In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class. Only Draco and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin.

"Look at the state of his robes," Malfoy would say in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like our old house elf."

But no one else cared that Professor Lupin's robes were patched and frayed. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After Boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblin-like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed: in the dungeons of castles and the potholes of deserted battlefields, waiting to bludgeon those who had gotten lost. From Red Caps they moved on to Kappas, creepy. water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting waders in their ponds.

Johnny dreaded the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at Harry. He couldn't like Professor Trelawney, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunch times, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed.

Nobody really seemed to like Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence. Johnny was still incredibly fond of it though.

"Why would anyone bother looking after them?" said Ron, after yet another hour of poking shredded lettuce down the flobberworms' throats.

At the start of October, however, Harry and Johnny had something else to occupy thrm, something so enjoyable it more than made up for theunsatisfactory classes. The Quidditch season was approaching, and Marcus Flint called a meeting on Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.

Flint was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field.

"This is our last chance -- my final chance -- to win the Quidditch Cup for a fourth time," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"Slytherin has won it for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world -- injuries -- then the tournament getting called off last year." Flint swallowed. "But we also know we've got the best -- ruddy -- team -- in -- the -- school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. "We've got three superb Chasers."

Flint pointed at Johnny, Graham Montague, and himself.

"We've got two unbeatable Beaters."

"Stop it, Marcus, you're embarrassing us," said Gregory and Roderick Blackwood together, pretending to blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has his moments!" Flint rumbled, glaring at Draco.

"The point is," went on, resuming his pacing, "the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it again..."

"Marcus, this year's our year, again," said Johnny.

"We'll do it, Marcus!" said Graham.

"Definitely," said Draco.

Full of determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, but no amount of mud, wind, or rain could tarnish Johnny's wonderful vision of finally winning the huge, silver Quidditch Cup.

Johnny returned to the Slytherin common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly.

"What's happened?" He asked Blaise and Pansy, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Blaise, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween."

"Excellent," said Graham, who had followed Johnny through the hole in the wall. "I need to visit Honeydukes. I'm nearly out of Bloodpops."

Graham was a vampire, who cured his thirst for blood through raw meat, Bloodpops (lollipops in blood flavour), and the occasional blood bag from Madame Pompfry. Johnny had been begging to be turned into a vampire ever since First Year, but Graham refused with a laugh.

Johnny threw himself into a chair beside Blaise, his high spirits ebbing away. Pansy seemed to read his mind.

"Johnny, I'm sure you and Harry will be able to go next time," she said. "They're bound to catch your father soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Grindelwald's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Blaise. "Ask Snape if you can go this time, Johnny. The next one might not be for ages --"

"Blaise!" said Pansy. "Johnny and Harry are supposed to stay in school --"

"They can't be the only third years left behind," said Blaise. "Ask Snape, or McGonagall, go on --"

"Yeah, I think I will," said Johnny, making up his mind.

Pansy opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment, Quorra, who was fond of Pansy, leapt lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from her mouth.

"Does she have to eat that in front of us?" said Johnny, scowling.

"Clever Quorra, did you catch that all by yourself?" said Pansy.

Johnny yawned. He really wanted to go to bed, but he still had his own star chart to complete. He pulled his bag toward him, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and started work.

"You can copy mine, if you like," said Blaise, labeling his last star with a flourish and shoving the chart toward Johnny.

"Yeah, cheers."

The next morning, Johnny found out that Ron was in a bad mood with Hermione. He barely talked to her all through Herbology, even though he, Johnny, Harry, and Hermione were working together on the same Puffapod.

"How's Scabbers?" Hermione asked timidly as they stripped fat pink pods from the plants and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail.

"He's hiding at the bottom of my bed, shaking," said Ron angrily, missing the pail and scattering beans over the greenhouse floor.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" cried Professor Sprout as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.

They had Transfiguration next. Johnny, who told Harry about the plan to ask McGonagall, had resolved to ask her after the lesson whether they could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the line outside the class trying to decide how he was going to argue his case. He was distracted, however, by a disturbance at the front of the line.

Lavender Brown seemed to be crying. Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus and Dean, who were looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" said Hermione anxiously as she, Johnny, Harry, and Ron went to join the group.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh," said Hermione, "I'm sorry, Lavender."

"I should have known!" said Lavender tragically. "You know what day it is?"

"Er --"

"The sixteenth of October! 'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!"

The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, "You -- you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily by a fox," said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, "but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't I?"

"Oh," said Hermione. She paused again. Then -- "Was Binky an old rabbit?"

"N -- no!" sobbed Lavender. "H -- he was only a baby!"

Parvati tightened her arm around Lavender's shoulders.

"But then, why would you dread him dying?" said Hermione.

Parvati glared at her as Johnny pulled her gently to the back out of the way.

"Hermione, darling, babe, love of my life," Johnny said with an amused smile. "I may think Trelawney is a fraud as much as you, but be a bit more considerate to Lavender's feelings."

"Well, look at it logically," said Hermione, resting her chin on Johnny's chest and looking at him. "I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today --" Lavender wailed loudly. "-and she can't have been dreading it, because it's come as a real shock --"

"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," said Ron loudly, "she doesn't think other people's pets matter very much."

"Ronald Billius Weasley!" Johnny yelled, putting on a frighteningly accurate impression of Mrs. Weasley.

Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, which was perhaps lucky; Johnny and Hermione were glaring daggers at Ron, and when they got into class, Johnny and Hermione sat on Harry's left while Ron sat on Harry's right, and didn't talk to each other for the whole class.

"I swear you and Johnny could be the modern day Bonnie and Clyde if you were criminal enough," Harry muttered to Hermione, who laughed quietly.

Johnny still hadn't decided what he was going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.

"One moment, please!" she called as the class made to leave. "As most of you are in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Neville put up his hand.

"Please, Professor, I -- I think I've lost --"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that's all, you may leave."

"Ask her now," Ron hissed.

"Oh. but --" Hermione began.

"Go for it," said Ron stubbornly.

Harry and Johnny waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Yes, Potter? Grindelwald?"

"Professor, my aunt and uncle -- er -- forgot to sign my form," Harry said.

Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at him but didn't say anything.

"So -- er -- d'you think it would be all right mean, will It be okay if I -- if I go to Hogsmeade?"

Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk.

"I'm afraid not, Potter," she said. "You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That's the rule."

"But -- Professor, my aunt and uncle -- you know, they're Muggles, they don't really understand about -- about Hogwarts forms and stuff," Harry said, while Ron egged him on with vigorous nods. "If you said I could go --"

"But I don't say so," said Professor McGonagall, standing up and piling her papers neatly into a drawer. "The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission." She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? "I'm sorry, Potter, but that's my final word. You had better hurry, or you'll be late for your next lesson. And Grindelwald, don't bother, your mother already said you can't go."

There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an 'all-for-the-best' expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry and Johnny had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they got into Hogsmeade.

"There's always the feast," said Ron, in an effort to cheer them up. "You know, the Halloween feast, in the evening."

"Yeah," said Johnny gloomily, "great."

The Halloween feast was always good, but it would taste a lot better if they were coming to it after a day in Hogsmeade with everyone else. Nothing anyone said made them feel any better about being left behind. Dean, who was good with a quill, had offered to forge Uncle Vernon's signature on Harry's form, but as Harry had already told Professor McGonagall he hadn't had it signed, that was no good. Ron halfheartedly suggested the Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione stamped on that one, reminding Ron what Dumbledore had told them about the Dementors being able to see through them. Percy had what were possibly the least helpful words of comfort.

"They make a fuss about Hogsmeade, but I assure you, boys, it's not all it's cracked up to be," he said seriously. "All right, the sweetshop's rather good, and Zonko's Joke Shop's frankly dangerous, and yes, the Shrieking Shack's always worth a visit, but really, apart from that, you're not missing anything."

On Halloween morning, Johnny awoke with the rest and went down to breakfast, feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing his best to act normally.

"We'll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes," said Hermione, looking desperately sorry for Johnny and Harry.

"Yeah, loads," said Ron.

"Don't worry about us," said Harry, in what he hoped was at, offhand voice, "We'll see you at the feast. Have a good time."

Harry and Johnny accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn't be going.

"Staying here, Potter?" shouted Draco, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. "Scared of passing the

"Ignore him," Johnny said, rolling his eyes as Hermione pulled away from the kiss and got in line.

Harry ignored him and made his and Johnny's solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Password?" said the Fat Lady, jerking out of a doze.

"Fortuna Major," said Harry listlessly.

The portrait swung open and they climbed through the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first-and second-years, and a few older students, who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.

"Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!"

It was Colin Creevey, a second year who was deeply in awe of Harry and never missed an opportunity to speak to him.

"Aren't you going to Hogsmeade? Why not? Hey --" Colin looked eagerly around at his friends -- "you can come and sit with us, if you like!"

"Er -- no, thanks, Colin," said Harry, who wasn't in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at the scar on his forehead. "I -- we've got to go to the library, got to get some work done."

After that, he had no choice but to turn right around and head back out of the portrait hole again.

"What was the point of waking me up?" the Fat Lady called grumpily after them as they walked away.

Harry and Johnny wandered dispiritedly toward the library, but halfway there Johnny changed his mind and dragged Harry with him; he didn't feel like working. They turned around and came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.

"What are you doing?" Filch snarled suspiciously.

"Nothing," said Johnny truthfully.

"Nothing!" spat Filch, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story! Sneaking around on your own -- why aren't you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?"

Harry and Johnny shrugged.

"Well, get back to your common rooms where you belong!" snapped Filch, and he stood glaring until Harry and Johnny had passed out of sight.

But they didn't go back to the common rooms, and was walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, "Harry? Johnny?"

Johnny and Harry doubled back to see who had spoken and met Evelyn, looking around her office door.

"What are you doing?" said Evelyn, though in a very different voice from Filch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade," said Harry, in a would-be casual voice.

"Ah," said Evelyn, looking apologetic. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for Professor Lupin's next lesson."

"A what?" said Harry.

They followed Evelyn into her office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

"Water demon," said Johnny, surveying the Grindylow thoughtfully. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with him, not after the Kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."

The Grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

"You're smart," Evelyn said in awe.

"Cup of tea?" Evelyn said, looking around for her kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."

"All right," said Harry awkwardly.

"Hey there, demons, it's me, ya boi," Johnny said, tapping the glass gently.

"You're weird," Harry said, making Johnny flip him off.

Evelyn tapped the kettle with her wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

"Sit down," said Evelyn, taking the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid -- but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?"

Harry and Johnny looked at Evelyn. Evelyn's eyes were twinkling.

"How did you know about that?" Harry asked.

"Professor McGonagall told me," said Evelyn, passing Harry and Johnny a mug of tea. "You're not worried, are you? As your Aunt, I'm aloud to be."

"No," said Harry.

Something of Harry's thoughts seemed to have shown on his face, because Evelyn said, "Anything worrying you, Harry?"

"No," Harry lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the Grindylow brandishing a fist at him.

"Yes," Johnny said suddenly, putting his tea down on the desk. "Did Lupin tell you we fought the Boggart?"

"Yes," said Evelyn slowly. "You're scared of your father, and you have every right to be."

"What if the Boggart was telling the truth?" Johnny asked. "That Dad was really in with You-Know-Who?"

"J-Johnny I don't know."

Johnny didn't know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea.

The silence was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Evelyn.

The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry and Johnny, his black eyes narrowing.

"Ah, Severus," said Evelyn, smiling. "Thanks very much. For Remus is it?"

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry, Johnny and Evelyn.

"I was just showing Harry and Johnny the Grindylow for their next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson," said Evelyn pleasantly, pointing at the tank.

"Fascinating," said Snape, without looking at it. "You should tell Lupin to drink that directly, Grindelwald."

"Yes, Yes, I will," said Evelyn.

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued. "If he needs more."

"He should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."

"Not at all," said Snape, but there was a look in his eye Johnny didn't like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful.

Johnny looked curiously at the goblet. Evelyn smiled.

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for Remus," she said. "Professor Lupin must be at home with his husband, enjoying his weekend."

"Why --?" Harry began. Evelyn looked at him and answered the unfinished question.

"Professor Lupin's been feeling a bit off-color," she said. "This potion is the only thing that helps."

"Professor Snape's very interested in the Dark Arts," Harry blurted out.

"Really?" said Evelyn, looking only mildly interested.

"Some people reckon --" Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, "some people reckon he'd do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job."

Evelyn pulled a face.

"Well, boys, I'd better get back to work. See you at the feast later," Evelyn avoided.

"There you go," said Ron. "We got as much as we could carry."

A shower of brilliantly colored sweets fell into Harry and Johnny's lap. It was dusk, and Ron and Hermione had just turned up in the common room, pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they'd had the time of their lives.

"Thanks," said Johnny, kissing Hermione and picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. "What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?"

By the sound of it -- everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides.

"The post office, Johnny! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!"

"Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look --"

"We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks --"

"Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up --"

"What did you do?" said Hermione, looking anxious. "Did you get any work done?"

"No," said Johnny. "Mum made me a cup of tea in her office. And then Snape came in..."

He told them all about the goblet for Lupin. Ron's mouth fell open.

Hermione checked her watch.

"We'd better go down, you know, the feast'll be starting in five minutes," They hurried through the portrait hole and into the crowd.

They reached Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes.

Seeing as it wasn't an important feast, other Houses were aloud to sit on different tables, so Johnny sat next to Hermione, opposite Ron and Harry. The food was delicious; even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything.

"Shall we go to the Gryffindor Common Room?" Hermione whispered in Johnny's ear. "I'm tired and fancy a cuddle."

Johnny nodded, saying goodbye to Ton and Harry. Hermione and Johnny walked hand-in-hand out of the Great Hall, and up to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Oh my god!" Hermione quietly gasped, clutching Johnny's hand tighter as she pointed ahead. There was a man there, and there was no mistaking who it was when he turned, even though he looked skinny and unkept.

"Johnny?" The man croaked, his voice hoarse.

"No... no... no..." Johnny whimpered, pulling his wand out of his denim jacket and taking aim at his father, pushing Hermione behind him. "I won't let you hurt them!"

"You need to hear-"

But Jakob Grindelwald's sentence was cut short when the rumble of footsteps was heard, and he ran, leaving a terrified Hermione and Johnny frozen to the spot.

"Why haven't you gone in?" said Ron curiously, pushing his way to Hermione and Johnny .

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password -- excuse me, I'm Head Boy --"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe.

"What's going on?" said Ginny, who had just arrived.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through, and Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer to see what the trouble was.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing." he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Jakob Grindelwald, like father like son, would you say?"