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 good-bye."

his eyes rested on harry and his lip curled. harry glared back. since elara hoped to become either an auror or a healer, she needed an outstanding on her o.w.l. to pass to n.e.w.t. level.

"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 ordinary wizarding 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 elara's left, hermione 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 elara, harry, ron, and hermione had predicted, snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. elara was also eighty-seven percent sure that snape set this potion so he could stop brewing it constantly for her. 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 in 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.

elara, who ecstatic at how her potion turned out, looked around the dungeon. harry's cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam; ron's was spitting green sparks. seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapor, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant that he could find nothing to criticize. he stopped at elara's cauldron, and made no comment, except for a pointed look that meant elara would have to start mixing her own draught of peace soon. at harry'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 malfoy laughed.

"yes, i can," said harry.

"read the third line of the instructions for me, potter."

harry squinted at the blackboard as it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multicolored steam now filling the dungeon.

" '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."

the contents of harry's potion vanished; he was left standing beside an empty cauldron.

"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 uses in potion-making, to be handed in on thursday."

elara had scooped up a vial of her potion, asked snape if she could have another vial in case, and began to pack up her things. when at long last the bell rang, harry was first out of the dungeon and had apparently already started his lunch by the time elara, ron, and hermione sat down with him in the great hall. the ceiling had turned an even murkier gray during the morning. rain was lashing the high windows.

"that was really unfair," said elara consolingly, sitting down next to harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "your potion wasn't nearly as bad as goyle's. his shattered the vial and caught his robes on fire."

"yeah, well," said harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has snape ever been fair to me?"

no one answered; all four of them knew that snape and harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment harry had set foot in hogwarts.

"i did think he might be a bit better this year," said hermione in a disappointed voice. "i mean . . . you know . . ." she looked carefully around; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table. ". . . now he's in the order and everything."

"poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said ron sagely. "anyway, i've always thought dumbledore was cracked trusting snape, where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for you-know-who?"

"i think dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, ron," snapped hermione.

"oh, shut up, the pair of you," said harry heavily, as ron opened his mouth to argue back. elara stopped mid-chew and hermione and ron both froze, looking angry and offended. "can't you give it a rest?" he said. "you're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." and abandoning his shepherd's pie, harry swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there.

ron and hermione turned to look at elara.

"why is it always my job to calm him down?" said elara exasperatedly.

"because he lets you," said hermione knowledgeably, with the air of insinuatiting that she knows something elara didn't. ron nodded vigorously beside hermione.

"check the divination tower first," said ron through a mouthful of shepard's pie. "its our next lesson."

"tell him ron and i've stopped arguing, and that it'd be nice if he were to stop taking his temper out on us."

"why me?" elara asked again.

"because harry can't and won't be mad at you," said ron, still through a mouthful of pie.

elara sighed, stuffed a few rolls into her pockets, and set off toward the divination tower. she walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students still hurrying toward lunch. harry was semi-right, hermione and ron bickering constantly did get quite annoying, but elara was still hoping that one day their bickering would lead to them just giving up on ignoring the sexual tension and just snog.

she passed the large picture of sir cadogan the knight on a landing; sir cadogan drew his sword and brandished it fiercely at elara, who ignored him.

"come back, you scurvy dog, stand fast and fight!" yelled sir cadogan in a muffled voice from behind his visor, but elara merely walked on, and when sir cadogan attempted to follow her by running into a neighboring picture, he was rebuffed by its inhabitant, a large and angry-looking wolfhound.

harry was, in fact, sitting alone underneath the trapdoor at the top of north tower. he did not look up when elara took a seat next to him and handed him a roll.

"you know," said elara. "if i were you-know-who, i'd want you to feel like this. alone, i mean. and angry at the world. he wants us separated, harry. we won't stand a chance alone."

harry didn't say anything as he chewed on his roll.

"ron and hermione've stopped arguing."

"good," grunted harry.

"and hermione said, in the nicest way possible, and i agree with her too, that it'd be nice if you'd stop taking your temper out on us."

"i'm not -- "

elara held up a hand. "i get it, harry. i'm angry too. but like i said, there's no way we can get through all this without each other."

"you've got a worse temper than i do," said harry.

"some things you just have to be okay with. there's no changing this harry, this is happening."

they sat for the rest of lunch, chatting idly, and consequently they were the first to ascend the silver ladder that led to sibyll trelawney's classroom when the bell rang.

elara, now that she knew she was a seer, expected she'd enjoy divination a lot more now, even if it did seem like a load of hogwash. professor trelawney's favorite pastime was predicting harry's premature death every few minutes. a thin woman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads, she always reminded elara 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 harry and elara 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 seats in the shadows. the rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes. ron emerged from the trapdoor, looked around carefully, spotted harry and elara and made directly for them, or as directly as he could while having to wend his way between tables, chairs, and overstuffed poufs.

"lara's talked to you then?"

"yeah," said harry.

"and?"

" 'suppose i agree with her."

"amazing," said ron in an almost awe-struck voice. "she's the harry-whisperer."

"merlin, ron -- "

"good day," said professor trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice, and elara broke off, feeling both annoyed and embarrassed by ron's revelation. "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 your o.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 as examinations.

"turn, please, to the introduction and read what imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. then divide into threes. use the dream oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. carry on."

the one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. by the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. at the table next to elara, harry, and ron, dean and aspen had paired up with neville, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat; elara, harry, and ron merely looked at each other glumly.

"i never remember my dreams," said ron. "lara, you say one. you've got interesting ones."

"that's because i'm a seer," grumbled elara. "you must remember one of them."

more recently, elara didn't like sharing her dreams with anyone but particular members of the order. they'd become more terrifying then ever before. she'd been lucky enough so far to avoid a fainting spell during lessons, but that was probably due to the fact that she'd had vivid night terrors the night before.

"well, i had one that i was playing quidditch the other night," said ron, screwing up his face in an effort to remember. "what d'you reckon that means?"

"probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something," said harry, turning the pages of the dream oracle without interest.

it was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the oracle but elara was cheered up when professor trelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. when the bell went, she, harry, and ron led the way back down the ladder, ron 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! fred and george weren't wrong about o.w.l. year, were they? that umbridge woman had better not give us any. . . ."

"honestly, you two, just copy down dreams from my old journals. how you ever passed your exams, i'll never know," said elara exasperatedly.

when they entered the defense against the dark arts classroom they found professor umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. elara was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

the class was quiet as it entered the room; professor umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

"well, good afternoon!" she said when finally the whole class had sat down.

a few people mumbled "good afternoon," in reply.

"tut, tut," said professor umbridge. "that won't do, now, will it? i should like you, please, to reply 'good afternoon, professor umbridge.' one more time, please. good afternoon, class!"

"good afternoon, professor umbridge," they chanted back at her.

"there, now," said professor umbridge sweetly. "that wasn't too difficult, was it? wands away and quills out, please."

many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. elara shoved her wand back inside her bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. professor umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

"well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated professor umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "the constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your o.w.l. year.

"you will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. we will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. copy down the following, please."

she rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

for a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. when everyone had copied down professor umbridge's three course aims she said, "has everybody got a copy of defensive magical theory by wilbert slinkhard?"

there was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"i think we'll try that again," said professor umbridge. "when i ask you a question, i should like you to reply 'yes, professor umbridge,' or 'no, professor umbridge.' so, has everyone got a copy of defensive magical theory by wilbert slinkhard?"

"yes, professor umbridge," rang through the room.

"good," said professor umbridge. "i should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'basics for beginners.' there will be no need to talk."

professor umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad's eyes. elara didn't open the book. maybe the ministry's got it out for harry and dumbledore, but studying theory isn't going to do them any good in the end whether voldemort's back or not. elara's hand lazily raised into the air while hermione's shot up.