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THE NEXT MORNING, Este, Pansy, and Daphne all woke up around the same time, with Este being the first, Daphne at a close second, then it was Pansy. They all finished getting ready and left their dorm room to find the boys all sprawled around the couches, waiting for them. Este walked with Atlas on one arm and Draco on the other──they were the closest in the group. The cousins. The big 3, Mattheo often joked. The imperial trio, Theodore jested. It didn't matter what nickname they had, Draco, Atlas, and Este were like three peas in a pod. Of course, Este and Draco fought a lot──and sometimes, their teases went a little overboard──and if it weren't for Atlas, Este and Draco might've murdered one another──but at the end of the day, Este could take a killing curse for Draco and he would do the same.

They followed the Hufflepuffs into the Great Hall, looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Este's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud grey. "Oi listen up you little shits!" Atlas yelled, drawing everyone's attention to him, "Tryouts are on Thursday at five o'clock and the whole team will be there. Then we can see how the new person will fit in. If you think you won't make it. Don't bother coming, alright?" There was a collective nod, and the group of friends made their way to the end of the table, Atlas occupying the middle seat at the end of the table with Este and Draco on either side. "I need to beat Gryffindor this year," Atlas told them blankly, "It won't hurt to have new blood on the team."

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Royal, her owl, was nowhere to be seen, but Este was hardly surprised; her only correspondent was Narcissa, and she doubted Narcissa would have anything new to tell her after only twenty-four hours apart.

Professor Snape was now moving along the table handing out schedules. "Look at today!" groaned Mattheo. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts . . . Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day!"

"Divination is a pathetic subject," Atlas deadpanned, "Loads of random guessing and lying."

"That's the beauty of it," Este said, "I won't have to try hard. I'll just have to tell that Trelawny woman about my upcoming doom."

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by Wizard-kind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Theodore, Blaise, and Mattheo had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Atlas's notes before exams; he alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice. Este had bought herself an enchanted peacock feather quill that helped her write her notes down for her, and so she never really paid any attention in class.

Today they suffered through three-quarters of an hour's droning on the subject of giant wars. Este heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher's hands, the subject might have been mildly interesting, but then her brain disengaged, and she spent the remaining thirty-five minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment with Mattheo, while Atlas shot them filthy looks out of the corner of his eye." How would it be," he asked them coldly as they left the classroom for a break (Binns drifting away through the blackboard), "if I refused to lend you my notes this year?"

"We'd fail our O.W.L.s," said Mattheo. "If you want that on your conscience, Ati . . ."

"Well, you'd deserve it," he snapped. "You don't even try to listen to him, do you?"

"We do try," said Theodore. "We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration──you're just cleverer than we are──is it nice to rub it in?"

"Don't try to bullshit me," said Atlas, but he looked slightly mollified as he led the way out into the damp courtyard. A fine misty drizzle was falling so that the people standing in huddles around the yard looked blurred at the edges. They chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after the two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner toward them.

"Black," Harry said very carefully, "I want to speak to you."

Este looked up as Draco, beside her looked as if he was ready to jump Harry right then and there. "Alright then," she said, getting up and dusting the dirt off her brand-new robes. She glanced back and her best friends, "I'll be back in a moment," she informed them, as they all shared a confused look. She turned and followed Harry into a more secluded corner of the castle.

"Listen. Sirius wanted me to check up on you," Harry said once they were alone, "I don't really know what's going on between you two, But all I know is that Sirius has not been himself lately, he's been staring at your portrait at the headquarters──Are you smoking?"

Este looked up at him and took a drag of her cigarette, "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "You couldn't focus for one moment?"

"No. Especially when you were completely fucking with me," Este snapped, "Listen, Harry. I'm really grateful that you care about me. It's a refreshing change, but Sirius... he and I... we have a complicated relationship."

Harry frowned, "Can't be that complicated."

Este smiled, "I can't forgive as easily as you do. He abandoned me when I was a baby. What do you want me to do? Welcome him back with open arms. Run back into his embrace? I'm sorry to disappoint Harry, but I can't do that." She paused to stare at Harry's face, taking a drag of her cigarette while she was at it.

"Cigarettes are bad for you," Harry said suddenly, startling Este.

"Sure they are," Este nodded, "Have you ever tried?" Harry shook his head, and at the moment, Este extended her cigarette out for him to take it. He held it with his thumb, index, and middle finger. He glanced at her suspiciously and when she gave him an encouraging look he took a drag of the cigarette. Este stared at him, finally noticing his handsomeness that was only enhanced by smoking. Harry handed it back to her, coughing. "How does it taste?" Este asked, curious.

"Smoky," Harry told her truthfully, "And almost woody. I get why you'd get addicted to it."

Este gave him a wry smile and checked her gold Patek Phillipe watch, she cursed. "Fuck," she murmured, tossing her cigarette away. "Potions in five minutes," she informed him. Harry let out a string of curses and the two of them hurried down to the dungeons.

They joined the queue lining up outside the classroom door. Snape's dungeon door creaked open and they all filed in. "Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my . . . displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped. "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, "But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at OrdinaryWizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On Este's left, Atlas sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. "The ingredients and method"── Snape flicked his wand──"are on the blackboard"──(they appeared there)──"you will find everything you need"──he flicked his wand again──"in the store cupboard"──(the door of the said cupboard sprang open)──"you have an hour and a half. . . . Start."

Just as Este and her friends had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added."A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Este, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. Her own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of a shimmering mist of silver vapor; Theodore's was spitting green sparks. Blaise was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out. Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant that he could find nothing to criticize about Este's potion. At Harry Potter's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, looking down at Harry with a horrible smirk on his face."Potter, what is this supposed to be?" The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco and Mattheo laughed, Este and Atlas bit back their smiles.

"Yes, I can," said Harry.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

" 'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.' "

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore. . . ."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its issues in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

After Este filled up her flagon, at long last the bell rang, and Este was the first of her friends to leave the dungeon, and by the time her plate had been filled up, the others joined her. The ceiling had turned an even murkier grey during the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows. "Did you see Potter's potion?" Draco said gleefully as he sat down, "Merlin, Snape never fails to surprise me with his hate for Potter."

"Snape's an arse," Atlas remarked, "He only targets the Gryffindors. Frankly, his act is getting boring."

"Oh get off your high horse, Ati," Daphne rolled her eyes, "You've got to admit, it's amusing."

Este snorted, "Oh come on, Harry's potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's, when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire." Goyle blushed.

"Yeah, well," said Mattheo, smirking "since when has Snape ever been fair to Potter?"

When they finished lunch, Este and Mattheo made their way to Divination, and most of their friend group opted for Ancient Runes. They passed the large picture of Sir Cadogan the knight on a landing; Sir Cadogan drew his sword and brandished it fiercely at them, who ignored him."Come back, you scurvy dog, stand fast and fight!" yelled Sir Cadogan in a muffled voice from behind his visor, but they merely walked on, and when Sir Cadogan attempted to follow him by running into a neighboring picture, he was rebuffed by its inhabitant, a large and angry-looking wolfhound.

Divination was one of Este's least favorite classes, which was due mainly to Professor Trelawney's habit of predicting Este's premature death every few lessons. A thin woman heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads, she always reminded Este of some kind of insect, with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busy putting copies of battered, leather-bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which her room was littered when they entered the room, but so dim was the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire that she appeared not to notice them as they took a seat in the shadows. There was only one other student, Harry Potter. Then the rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes.

"Good day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice, "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely──as, of course, I knew you would. You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in yourO.W.L. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so . . ." Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters examinations.

It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the Oracle and Este was not cheered up when Professor Trelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. When the bell went, Este and Mattheo led the way back down the ladder, Mattheo grumbling loudly. "D'you realize how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! That Umbridge woman had better not give us any or I think I'll go rogue. . . ."