The Anger.

Weasley was left with only his two friends, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, for company. And even they didn't look to be happy with him.

Neville had managed to track Hermione down in the girl's toilet on the second floor. Though neither joined the others in the library, both made it for lunch.

Harry had already told the others what had happened. So, when Neville and Hermione walked up to where they were all sitting at the Hufflepuff table, the girls were quick to embrace Hermione in hugs and words of caring.

They sat her between Hannah and Tracey in a show of solidarity while they ate. During the course of the meal, she was approached by all four other Gryffindor First Year girls offering their own words of care and friendship.

On quite a few times, she had to take a small handkerchief from her pocket and wipe her eyes of tears. It was clear she was quite moved by the overt show of support she was receiving.

Harry had grabbed a book from the library and was avidly reading it while keeping a weather eye on what was going on.

As the meal finished and they were getting ready to head to their next classes - Harry had Potions with Susan and Hannah - he walked up to Hermione and said in a formal but carrying voice, "Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I, Harry James Potter, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, offer you the protection of my House. Do you accept?"

The rest of the group gasped suddenly at what Harry had said and asked of their muggleborn friend.

Those who heard around them from outside the group, suddenly ceased what they were doing and stared at the tableau in shock.

Hermione, knowing it was something big, looked back at Harry in a bit of shock. "I..." she stuttered. "I - don't know what that means."

Though he hadn't asked Daphne if he could do it first. She was clearly quite pleased with what Harry was set on doing.

Quickly, Tracey and Hannah began rapidly whispering to Hermione. As they did so, her eyes became as big as saucers staring at Harry, and she slightly paled.

When the girls backed away, looking at Harry quite pleased, Hermione steadied herself and said a little tremulously, "I, Hermione Jean Granger, accept the protection of House Potter, m... my Lord."

Drawing his wand, Harry carefully held out the tip so it was next to the left shoulder of the girl, and said, "Then, so mote it be!" And tapped her high on her upper arm as he did so.

There

was

sudden

but

muted

flash

at Hermione's shoulder and there appeared a small House Potter Crest outlined in white.

Harry resheathed his wand and said with a smile, "Welcome to the protection of House Potter, Miss Granger."

The others of the group crowded closer around. The girls clearly showing their excitement.

Neville reached across and grasped Harry's shoulder for a moment before saying, "That's a bloody clever idea, Harry."

"But, what does it all mean?" asked Hermione, softly.

"It means, Hermione," said Tracey. "That anyone who attacks you, for any reason, also attacks House Potter. Harry is now able to bring the weight of House Potter and it's allied Houses down upon anyone who stupidly does so."

"It also means," said Daphne. "That you're now considered to have all the rights associated with being a pureblood. You've just moved from being near the lowest scale of wizarding society to it's upper reaches. It's actually a very cunning move on Harry's part."

Thinking for a moment, Hermione was suddenly quite concerned. "This won't get you in trouble, will it?" she asked.

"No," replied Harry. "I've done nothing wrong. However, the bigots are probably going to be upset about it. But, there's nothing they can do without trashing their own customs and traditions. And they're not going to do that any time soon."

"Is there anything I have to do; while under your protection, I mean?" she worriedly asked.

"You have to allow me to graze my sheep on your land if I want to do so," he said. "However, as you don't personally own any land; and I don't own any sheep; I don't see that being a problem."

That elicited chuckles and giggles from the group.

"And we'd all best be getting a move on," said Daphne. "We'll be late for class if we don't hurry."

The Seven quickly left the Great Hall with Hermione often checking the House Crest was still there.

After class, Harry was surprised to see Daphne waiting for him.

"If you're having trouble sleeping tonight, Harry," she said. "Make sure you visit Madam Pomfrey and ask her for something to help."

Harry nodded and said, "I will. Thank you, Daphne."

"Do you want to come to the library and get some homework out of the way?" she asked. "Or, would you prefer to head back to your dorm now?" "Dorm; I think," replied Harry. "I'll see you in the morning."

Daphne turned him towards herself and gently kissed him on the lips. "Try and have a good night's sleep. And I'll see you at breakfast, alright?"

Nodding, he replied, "Alright, Daphne. And, thank you."

While Harry was walking away, Daphne watched his back. It wasn't until he had turned the corner heading for the grand staircase that she sighed and headed for the library with Susan and Hannah.

The Headmaster looked across the four House tables from where he sat upon his new chair at the head table. With a slight frown of reminiscence he thought to himself, 'I miss my throne.'

That made him think of the Potter boy.

Looking across at the Ravenclaw table he searched the collection of First Years. Not seeing him there, he then searched further down each side of the table. After a long few moments he realised the boy wasn't sitting at that particular table.

Casting his eyes over the other tables he searched for what stood out. The blue and bronze trim out of place at another table. He wasn't sitting with Miss Greengrass or Davis at Slytherin. He wasn't sitting with Miss Bones or Abbott at Hufflepuff. And, he wasn't sitting with Mister Longbottom or Miss Granger at Gryffindor.

With a frown he turned to his deputy, Professor McGonagall, sitting at his right.

"Minerva?" he asked.

"Yes, Albus?"

"Why do I not see Mister Potter sitting among the students?" he asked. "Has he taken ill and I've not been informed?" Professor McGonagall replied, "Not that I'm aware of, Albus," before she quickly scanned the tables herself.

"Please ask Professor Flitwick to locate him for me, will you?" he asked.

Turning to her own right, Professor McGonagall asked the diminutive professor sitting there, "Filius? It appears young Mister Potter is missing from the feast. Do you know where he is?"

Professor Flitwick, instead of verbally replying, hopped up to stand on his chair before looking out across the tables.

Once he'd carried out his own search with his eyes, he hopped back down and said, "No, I'm unaware of where the boy is. He's not in the infirmary?"

"No," replied Professor McGonagall. "Poppy's here and she wouldn't be if she had a student under her care." With a sigh, the Charms Master called for a house elf, "Tippy!"

When the elf popped in alongside and just behind the row of seats, the Professor saw it and asked, "We seem to be missing a First Year student, Tippy. Is there one in the Ravenclaw tower?"

"Yes, Perfessor FlittyWicky," replied the elf. "One student is abed in First Year boy's dorm."

"Thank you, you may go," said the Professor. Turning his eyes towards his students, he silently counted the First Year boys. Only one was missing; Harry Potter.

"Minerva," said the Professor. "It appears young Mister Potter is in bed, asleep."

He watched as she passed the message to the Headmaster.

Carefully holding his beard out of his meal, the Headmaster leaned forward in his seat and locked eyes with the much smaller Professor. "Get him and tell him attending the feast is mandatory, Filius," the old man said, a little angrily. "I expect to see him down here within the next fifteen minutes."

The little Professor sighed and replied, "Yes, Headmaster." He was enjoying his soup. Now he'd miss the end of it. He only hoped he'd be able to return before the main meal was served.

Hopping down off his seat he quickly made his way out of the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall.

Five minutes later he was walking into the First Year boys' dorm. The curtains around one of the beds was closed. The bed he knew to be young Mister Potter's.

Walking to the side he pulled the curtains apart near the head of the bed.

"Mister Potter," he called to the boy, clearly asleep in the bed. Harry barely twitched.

"Mister Potter!" the professor called louder.

Harry opened his eyes and looked around in confusion for a few moments. He then recognised the professor standing alongside his bed.

"Professor wrong?"

Flitwick?"

he

asked.

"What's

Sitting up suddenly, staring hard at the professor, he asked, "It's not Daphne, is it?"

"No, Mister Potter, it is not," replied the professor. "You are not at the feast. It is mandatory for everyone to attend. The Headmaster sent me to fetch you and tell you he expects you in the great hall in - five minutes."

"He naffing what?" snarled Harry.

"Mister Potter!" exclaimed the professor. "Watch your tone!"

"Tone?"

asked

Harry

near

speechless. "Tone?!"

"Mister Potter, as I said..." tried the professor, before he was cut off.

"E-nough!" snarled Harry, started to climb out of bed.

The little professor backed off to allow him room.

"I suggest you hurry back to the Great Hall, Professor," said Harry, ripping his pyjama shirt off over his head. "I will be there in five minutes."

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