Besides, Teddy told him later that none of that stuff was even in the first third of the book, and he shouldn't have been expected to know any of it yet. How Miss Bloody Granger knew it all was anyone's guess. Teddy had a few theories, mostly having to do with her living the library, with books for pillow, blanket, bed and even the loo . . . the latter made of History of Magic books, of course.
Harry had been grateful to Teddy, and had avoided Draco for the rest of the day. He noted Crabbe and Goyle snickered right along with Draco, same with Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. But not Millicent, not Teddy, and not Neville Longbottom or even Ron. Instead, the red head had looked almost . . . angry at Snape, and on Harry's behalf! The thought had lightened his mood, which had plunged rather deeply as Snape mocked him in front of everyone. He'd thought the man would be fair; he'd said he didn't play favorites, hadn't he? That was the most disappointing thing about the class, in the end. And he'd been looking forward to Potions, too.
Looking into the bin, now, Harry saw he was more than half through his work after only an hour. Maybe he'd get a chance to actually study tonight with his group, instead of having to get up early and do his work in bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, though, so maybe they'd quit the study group early in favor of hanging out or playing Exploding Snap or Wizard's Chess.
It was just after nine when he finally finished, bottles of ground beetles lined up precisely and the table wiped down. He closed the door, unsure if he needed to lock it again, or if would happen automatically, and decided to just leave it shut like that, for surely Snape would have told him if he needed to do anything special when he left.
He headed back to the Slytherin common room, passing through several twisting corridors on the way. It was easy to get lost down here. Easier than the rest of the castle anyway. The torches – spelled to stay lit all the time – didn't give off as much light as one might hope, when wandering through dungeons, and the flickering light made shadows appear in odd places, so sometimes you could miss a turn or a recessed alcove you needed to take.
Harry was mostly used to it by now, but his thoughts were still running away from him with all that had happened over the last few days, and he didn't realize until he hit a dead end that he'd missed a cross passage somewhere.
Turning to retrace his steps, he found himself face to . . . translucent face with the Bloody Baron.
Silvery blood covered the Bloody Baron's hands and clothes, and his face, also splashed with a streak of sliver, was caught in an expression of deep pain. A gaping hole in his chest leaked a never ending flow of that silver blood, dripping toward the floor, but then it winked out of existence before actually hitting the stone. Chains wrapped the ghost's torso and rattled ominously, even while he hovered right in front of Harry.
"Harry Potter," the ghost intoned.
Harry had seen a number of Hogwarts ghosts in the last week, but not the Bloody Baron, not since the Welcoming Feast. He'd felt the ghost's gaze studying him that night, but he'd been so nervous about everything else that he'd quite forgotten. Now he said, "Yes, sir?"
The ghost's mouth curved, opening wide like a rictus more than a smile. "I did not expect you, of all people, to find a place in my House."
With an almost impatient sigh, Harry said, "Yeah, I get that a lot."
Surprising him, the Bloody Baron tipped his head back and laughed, a full-throated joyous sound that made Harry's head reel. "Ah, Mr. Potter, thank you," the Bloody baron said as he wound down. "I have not found such amusement in a stone's age."
"Er, you're welcome." Harry peered through the ghost at the corridor behind him, at the same wondering if doing so was considered rude. "Could you, er, tell me where I ended up? I seem to be a bit lost."
"I should say so."
Harry was pretty sure the Bloody Baron wasn't talking about just tonight, but he didn't feel like getting into some kind of weird philosophical discussion with a ghost, so he ignored that jibe and said, "I'm meant to be back at my common room, now. For a study group."
"Of course," the Bloody Baron said and stared into his eyes. The ghost's eyes were black holes, like the entrance to a cave in which something deadly lived and breathed and drew unwary victims in.
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