Upon entering the Gryffindor common room on their way out to breakfast the next morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were confronted by a truly terrible smell. Fred and George, it seemed, had decided to set off another of their new inventions. Harry didn't know what this new invention was called yet, but whatever it was, the intensity and foulness of the smell put Dungbombs to shame. Trying not to breathe through his nose (was his sense of smell more acute than before, or was he imagining things?) Harry rushed out of the portrait hole and past the twins, who were cackling gleefully. Ron and Hermione followed him close behind.

"Eurgh, those two have really outdone themselves this time," snickered Ron, who looked torn between disgust at the invention's stench and the cleverness of his elder twin brothers. "Seemed like they never came out of their room over the summer, they were so busy experimenting and inventing things. Mum was ready to strangle them, but since they didn't blow anything up in the rest of the house, she didn't."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry grinned at that last remark. It was good to see the twins were making use of the thousand Galleons he had secretly given them at the end of last term. The money had been Harry's winnings from the Triwizard Tournament, but after Cedric Diggory's death, Harry didn't feel right about keeping it. He had tried to give it away several times before finally convincing the twins to take it on condition that they use it towards starting their joke shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

* * *

After breakfast, the trio separated, Ron and Harry heading towards the Divination classroom while Hermione left for her Arithmany class.

"Wonder what new rubbish Trelawney will be teaching us this year," grumbled Ron. Then he grinned. "What's the betting she predicts your death again this year, eh, mate?"

"My Inner Eye tells me that this is extremely likely." intoned Harry in a mock-dreamy voice. "Wish she'd stop doing that, it's getting really old," he continued more seriously.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were walking nearby, scowled at the two boys. Lavender and Parvati's favorite class by far was Divination, and they idolized Professor Trelawney.

Upon entering the classroom, Harry was confronted with the suffocating, cloying smell of the fumes from Trelawney's perpetually lit fireplace. The air inside seemed even more heavily perfumed and thick than in previous years.

"Welcome back to Divination, my dears. Now that you are entering your third year of the study of Divination, we will be moving on to more advanced concepts. For most of this year, we will be studying the art of Tarot cards." Trelawney droned on. She went on to explain the different types of faces on the cards, adding that they would have a chance to actually view a deck during today's class.

Ron's eyelids were already beginning to droop; Harry discreetly kicked his friend's shin under the table.

"Ron!" he hissed.

"Wha-?" said the gangly, freckled redhead as he was startled awake.

"Stay awake! Trelawney's coming over here to pass out the cards!"

"Wish she would pass out, these fumes would put anyone to sleep," muttered Ron under his breath.

Lavender and Parvati glared at Ron as though he had mortally offended them by dozing off in their favorite class. Eyes bright behind her overlarge spectacles, Professor Trelawney laid a deck of cards on Harry and Ron's table.

"Ah, my poor boy," she looked at Harry mistily. "I do hope that the fates are mistaken, and that you will not be in mortal peril again this year."

To Trelawney's surprise and dismay, broad grins appeared on both Harry's and Ron's faces. Told you so, Ron's mirthful eyes seemed to say.

"It is not a laughing matter!" sniffed Trelawney huffily.

The grin faded from Harry's face. The Divination professor annually predicted Harry's death or mortal peril, but whether or not she knew it, in this case she was right. Harry already was in danger. Of course, he always had been, because of Voldemort. But Trelawney couldn't have had a real prediction about Harry being in danger because who his real father was, could she? Harry certainly hoped not.

That thought kept Harry rather quiet for the remainder of class. Later, while walking down to the greenhouses for Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and the rest of Gryffindor House, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he barely heard a word of what Ron was saying about Quidditch tryouts.

"I dunno, Harry. Do you really think I have a chance?"

"Mmm-hmh."

"I mean, Fred and George are probably going to be extra-critical of me because I'm their brother, don't you think?"

"Mmm-hmh."

"Harry," said Ron reproachfully. He snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face, causing Harry to jump and focus on Ron. "You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?"

"What? Oh, sorry. Really, I am. I was just.kind of distracted."

"I'll say you were. You're not still thinking about what Trelawney said, are you? You know the old fraud predicts your death every year, and you've proved her wrong each time. Don't worry about it, mate. She's just making it up, as usual."

"Yeah, I know that. Stupid of me to waste so much time thinking about it," replied Harry. Still, a little voice in the back of his head kept saying, She's made true predictions before. "So, what was that you were saying about tryouts?"

* * *

Herbology passed uneventfully. Before long, it was five o'clock and time to head down to Hagrid's hut for tea. Fang, Hagrid's enormous boarhound, greeted them joyfully, nearly knocking them over in an attempt to cover their faces with big, slobbery kisses. The half-giant himself enveloped the three young Gryffindors at once in a rib-crushing hug.

"How've you lot been? 'ave a good summer?" Hagrid inquired as he poured out tea and passed around a large plate of rock-biscuits.

"Very well, thanks, and yes, Hagrid," replied Hermione with a smile, brushing a long strand of bushy hair out of her face.

Harry nodded as if to say, same here, avoiding actually speaking as he sipped at his tea. He had no intention of revealing what had happened at the Dursleys' if at all possible, even to his friends.

"And classes are going well? No problems so far?" the half-giant continued.

"Pretty well. It's good to have Professor Lupin back. The only downside is that we have double Potions first thing Monday mornings. And oh, yes, Trelawney's still convinced that Harry's fated to die by the end of the year," said Ron cheerfully.

"Ah, tha' old bat. Sibyll Trelawney always predicts at least one student's death a year. Don' worry 'bout it, 'Arry."

"I'm not worrying about it!" said Harry sharply.

Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid stared at him in surprise. It was unlike Harry to be curt.

"I mean, thanks for worrying about me and all, but Trelawney's death predictions are nothing I'm not used to. They don't bother me."

"'Course not, Harry," replied Hagrid gently.

Thankfully, the conversation shifted to other matters. The trio tried to get Hagrid to talk about the mission with Madam Maxime he had undertaken on Dumbledore's behalf last summer, but Hagrid refused to divulge any information.

"'s top-secret Hogwarts business. Can't tell yeh," Hagrid said firmly.

And that was all Hagrid would say on the matter.

After their visit with Hagrid, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked back across the grounds for dinner in the Great Hall, chattering away and speculating as to what Hagrid had been up to during the summer. Personally, Harry was convinced that it had something to do with the giants. Both Hagrid and Madame Maxime were half-giants, so it only made sense that Dumbledore would send them to negotiate with the giants before Voldemort got a chance to win them over to the Dark Lord's side. Harry only hoped the Care of Magical Creatures professor and the Headmistress of Beauxbatons had been successful- Voldemort had already recruited the Dementors. An involuntary shiver passed through the dark-haired boy's thin form. Witnessing that was an experience he had no desire whatsoever to relive.

To Harry, dinner was a tedious affair. He pushed the food around on his plate unenthusiastically, finding himself unable to eat very much. Summer at the Dursleys' seemed to have shrunk his stomach- or maybe it was just an after-affect of having been ill. Half-heartedly, he forced down a few bites of chicken and vegetables at Hermione's insistence. But when Ron started to tease him about getting so skinny he would start to look like Snape, Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He knew Ron was only teasing out of concern for getting him to eat, but the mention of Snape reminded Harry only too well of the secret he was keeping from them and how he wished he didn't have to conceal the truth from his best friends.

"Look Ron, just- just shut up, will you? I already said I'm not hungry, so leave it alone!" Harry glared. "And I don't look like Snape!"

"All right, all right! Calm down, mate. You just need to take care of yourself, okay? You've been sick, and you need to eat something. And of course you don't look like Snape, it's not like you're his son or anything. Ugh, imagine Snape having kids!" Ron shuddered.

That was the final straw. Snatching up his book bag, Harry stormed out of the hall. No wonder Dumbledore doesn't want me to tell Ron and Hermione, Harry thought bitterly. Even if doing so wouldn't put Harry and Snape in danger, Ron, at least, would never understand. Hermione might understand, but Ron would probably accuse Harry of having known all along. Memories of how Ron had been angry with him last year during the Triwizard Tournament suddenly flooded back to the young dark-haired wizard. Harry didn't want to destroy his friendship with his freckled, redheaded friend again.

Still upset, but beginning to calm down, Harry decided against heading back to Gryffindor Tower and instead went to the library. He wasn't as bookish as Hermione, so the library wasn't the first place anyone would think of to look for him.

* * *

Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones who had noticed Harry's tense behavior at dinner. From his seat at the faculty table, Severus watched as Harry stormed out of the hall. A scowl crossed the features of the Potions Master. What on earth was the boy doing? Hadn't he and Albus made it perfectly clear that Harry needed to keep a low profile? Clearly Harry didn't realise that such an argument with his two best friends was sure to attract attention. It was only with a great effort that Severus was able to restrain himself from storming out of the hall after Harry in order to berate the boy. Never mind, he told himself. I'll just have to catch up with him later and knock some sense into him.

Professor Lupin noted Harry's exit from the hall with concern. What on earth had gotten into James' son? As far as Lupin had ever been able to tell, Harry was a relatively easygoing sort of person. It was unlike Harry to quarrel- unless it was with Draco Malfoy. But clearly, Harry's quarrel this time had been with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, his two best friends. Amazingly, Malfoy was still seated at the Slytherin table and had made no effort to taunt his rival. Glancing at the blond-haired Slytherin, Lupin made a mental note to keep an eye on Lucius Malfoy's heir; the werewolf had no doubt that Draco would one day become a Death Eater like his father. Lupin also made a note to have a talk with Harry sometime soon and ask him if everything was all right. He knew that Harry and Sirius would not have had much of a chance to communicate over the summer, so he wanted to reassure the boy that his godfather was still safe.