The Anger.

He stepped out and made sure the hallway was clear, and invoked, "Nox!" to turn his Light Charm off. Then beckoned the others out.

When they were all out he indicated the sconce that needed to be turned ninety degrees to open the passage again.

Walking to the cross corridor he pointed to the left and said, "I think the Slytherin rooms are that way. The grand staircase is the other.

Daphne looked about and said, "Yes, they are."

Then she turned to Harry, kissed him on the cheek and said, "Night!" before walking off to the left with Tracey.

"No kiss from me, Harry," grinned Susan, before she and Hannah went the other way.

Harry quickly returned to the hidden passage, returned to the seventh floor, and made his way from there to the Ravenclaw tower.

The only downside in Harry's days now, was the rapidly approaching Halloween Feast. Now that he knew it was the anniversary of the death of his parents, Halloween held no joy for him. And this year marked the tenth anniversary of their death.

The others noticed his occasional despondent attitude, and it wasn't long before Daphne pulled him aside. It was the Tuesday afternoon before the feast.

"Alright, Mister Potter," she said. "Spill. What keeps dumping you into this gloomy attitude you keep getting, of late."

With a sigh, Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Halloween's coming up," he simply said.

"Yes, the tenth anniversary of the defeat of..." it suddenly dawned on Daphne.

Harry, seeing the look pass betrothed's face, hung his head.

across

his

"Oh, Merlin; Harry!" she quietly exclaimed. "How could we have been so stupid?"

Snapping his head up to look into Daphne's eyes he raised his hand and lightly cupped her cheek. "No, it's okay," he fondly said. "I know it's a day of celebration for the wizarding world. For me..." He shrugged.

"It's the anniversary of murders," she softly finished.

your

parent's

"It's - just a little hard to see everyone so upbeat about it," he said. "I understand, of course. But, it's not something I can feel upbeat about; you know?"

"Of course not," she replied, pulling him into a hug.

"We've all been told it's mandatory to attend the feast, as it is a feast," said Harry. "I, however, will much prefer to be abed. So, that's where I'm going to be."

Nodding, she replied, "I understand. But, if you need me, I'll be there for you. Mandatory attendance, bedamned."

Together they went for a walk along various hallways and corridors through the castle, until they returned to the Great Hall for dinner.

Knowing that Daphne had gone to talk to Harry about his gloomy mood, the others didn't say anything about it at dinner. When Harry left afterwards saying he wanted to get in a couple hours of sleep before Astronomy that night, the others just bid him a good night. As soon as he had left the Hall, the others all looked expectantly at Daphne. She sighed and only had to remind them that Halloween was the anniversary of his parent's murders for them to realise what was going on with their unofficial leader.

"Please, don't talk to him about it, alright?" she begged. "He just wants everyone to continue as normal and pretty much said to enjoy the feast. I'm sure he'll be fine not long afterwards."

On the morning of Halloween Harry was sitting with Neville in Charms while Hermione was sitting with the redheaded idiot, Ronald Weasley.

Harry was helping Neville with the incantation and the wand movement for the charm, as he'd already mastered it, and could see the boy seemed to be struggling. Harry knew he was doing everything right but it wasn't working for him. "Here," said Harry, offering his own wand to Neville. "Try it with mine."

"But, Harry; that's not right," said Neville. "It's your wand."

"And I'm offering it," said Harry. "Please. Try."

With a sigh, Neville put his own wand on the bench and accepted Harry's. As soon as it was in his hand, his eyes widened. "Whoa," he said. "I can feel that."

While Neville was concentrating on the feel of Harry's wand in his own hand, Harry picked up Neville's. As an opposite effect, Harry could barely feel anything from the wand. It may as well have been a stick.

Looking closely at the wand Harry could see it was well worn. There were dings and nicks almost all along it's length, especially near the tip. The wand was well polished and cared for, but was clearly an old one.

Setting the wand back down, Harry said to Neville, "Settled into your hand yet? Now try the Charm."

With a flick and a swish Neville incanted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" The feather leapt off the desk straight up as if it was being shot out of a cannon. It hovered above five feet over their heads.

"I think that was a bit too much power, Neville," said Harry, as both boys were staring up at the feather.

Neville was gobsmacked. It had worked. Not only that; it had worked really well.

Professor Flitwick came over and said, "Well done, Mister Longbottom. Now, you need to back off on the amount of power you're using. Remember, it's only a feather; not a boulder."

"Professor Flitwick, Sir," said Harry. "This time, I loaned my wand to Neville and he's using that." Offering Neville's wand to the professor, he said, "And this is the wand Neville is using." Professor Flitwick took the offered wand while Neville was letting the feather sink back to the bench top. He moved it through his fingers, peering at it closely.

As the feather finally dropped into Neville's reach, he reached out and took it, placing it back on the bench top.

"Try it again, Neville," said Harry. "This time, only allow a trickle of your magic to flow through the wand.

With another flick, swish and incantation; a lot quieter and gentler this time; the feather rose into the air and hovered about two feet off the bench top.

"That was easy," gasped Neville. "I can't do that with my wand."

"That's because this isn't your wand, Mister Longbottom," said the professor, flicking Neville's wand in the air a little. "Why are you using it?" Looking abashed down at the bench top, Neville replied, "It's my father's. Gran - my grandmother - said I would be honouring my father by using it."

"Nonsense!" snorted the professor. "A wand has to be in tune with you as you have to be in tune with it. This wand is a very poor match for you, Mister Longbottom. You need to be fitted with one of your own."

The professor offered the wand back. Harry reached out and took it.

Looking at his own feather, he swished, flicked and incanted at it. The feather barely twitched.

"No wonder you're struggling," muttered Harry. Looking up at the professor, he asked, "Permission to contact Madam Longbottom to right this wrong, Professor."

"No," replied the professor. "I shall discuss the matter with Professor McGonagall and have her contact Madam Longbottom. It would be best if it came from a professor. There's no need for you to be involved further."

Thinking a moment, the Professor said, "And that's ten points to Ravenclaw for both care of a friend in difficulties, and for correctly identifying the problem, Mister Potter. Well done."

After the professor left to attend other students, Harry had Neville use his wand for the remainder of the class. When Neville tried to refuse, Harry merely said he'd already 'mastered' the Charm and did not need to practice it.

Hearing a noise from closer to the front of the class, Harry could see Hermione seemed to be becoming upset with her partner, Ronald Weasley. There was another student who could not seem to get it right.

Professor Flitwick moved down to see what the matter was and, after a few moments, had the boy's wand in his own hands. The professor took a closer look at the wand and clearly was not happy. He was shaking his head and frowning.

As soon as they were released from class Neville switched wands back with Harry and they left together. They dawdled a little as they were waiting for Hermione to catch them up.

From behind, they heard the Weasley boy say to someone in a clear voice, "Honestly! Mental, that one! Always such a know-it-all!"

A moment later, Harry felt someone nudge his shoulder as they ran past with their bookbag as it was held to their chest. It was Hermione.

It took only a moment for Harry to realise that she'd heard the boy make those disparaging remarks. He was of two minds. Did he run after her; or deal with the idiot.

Immediately after, he heard laughter coming from at least two young boys behind him. It was Neville who made the decision. "I'll go after her," he quietly said. "You deal with the loud mouth." And he took off running after her.

Harry was furious. He spun on his heel and was just in the right place to grab the redhead by the front of his robes and drag him closer. At a distance of barely an inch he barked, "What the hell is your problem, Weasley?"

Trying to back away, the boy gaped at him like a fish.

"She was trying to help you, you idiot!" he yelled. "Clearly, you desperately needed it after destroying at least two feathers and making a mess of a third!"

He shoved the boy away from him and snarled, "If Mister Longbottom is unable to calm her down and help her to see you are utterly unworthy of her help; may God help you. Because, I will be coming for you!"

Harry spun around and stormed away. But, as he did so, Weasley drew his wand and started to raise it.

As his arm came up, someone else's hand shot out and pushed his arm back down again.

Stepping forward as he pushed Weasley's arm down, Michael Cornfoot, the kid who appeared to have Amerindian blood, quietly glared and said, "Don't be an even bigger idiot, Ron. If you did manage to get a spell off at him, I have no doubt he'll rip you apart. You'll be lucky to get out of the hospital before Christmas break." Then walked away.

The crowd that had gathered when all the ruckus had started, moved away now that it was over. But, it was also clear there were no other students who would side with the redhead.

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