Chapter 10 Conflict

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Violet's squeal of joy unceremoniously interrupted Harry as he finished off another sentence, splattering a bit of ink on the table as she embraced her brother enthusiastically.

"You finally did it!" she declared happily.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Quidditch tryouts, you prat. It's about time."

"Oh. Right." Harry said tiredly. He had a Potions essay of Grawp-sized proportions due the next day, not to mentionhis first "lesson" with Neville in a couple of hours. After being bombarded by various Quidditch hopefuls asking for tips on making the team, Harry was officially exhausted. Not only that, but his increasingly less frequent visits to Hogwarts' Daily Prophet archives haven't been especially fruitful either.

Violet's smile fell as she cocked her head at him quizzically. "You don't look so good,"

"Neither do you," Harry retorted. It was true; despite her excited girly squeals before, her eyes carried subtle dark bags beneath them, and there was a slight clumsiness in the way she stood.

But Violet merely stuck her tongue out at him. "Girls only like you because you play Quidditch –athletic magnetism and all. Don't look very macho to me," she teased, pinching Harry's bony arm to emphasize her point.

Harry scowled playfully. "What a blow to my masculinity."

Violet smirked. "Indeed." She glanced over at Harry's half finished essay. "Egh, name and explain all the natural elements involved in a Dreamless Sleep Potion? Good luck with that." Violet peered closer. "Actually, mandrake root has nothing to do with it; jasmine's more like it."

"How d'you know that?" Harry asked suspiciously, remembering his discovery of Violet's unhealthy habit of taking Dreamless Sleep Potions just a month ago.

"I'm good at Potions," Violet said breezily, refusing to acknowledge Harry's narrowed eyes. "That essay shouldn't take you that long; but then, Potions has never been your strong point, has it? Got a date with Ginny after or something? That why you're rushing?"

"Actually," Harry said, recognizing the sudden strain in their conversation, "I'm tutoring Neville soon, so I'll have to hurry up to make it on time, won't I?"

Violet froze, hazel eyes angry as she remembered her row with Neville two days ago.

"Why would you be tutoring him?" she asked coldly.

"Tonks asked me to," Harry responded with a shrug, "So–"

"So he'll have the necessary skills to run around as the Ministry's pet monkey?"

"No," Harry said, becoming increasingly frustrated with his sister's attitude. "So he'll have the necessary skills for the Final Battle, for finding the Hor –" Harry stopped abruptly, cursing himself for almost letting that piece of information slip. Surely this Harry didn't have access to that information.

"The Horcruxes, I know," Violet finished for him, her tone bored. "He told me. How you found out . . ."

Harry quickly changed the subject. "Listen, if you're still pissed at him, fine; but you don't want him to face Voldemort unprepared, do you?"

Violet didn't say anything for a moment. "Have fun with your essay," she said stiffly before retreating up the girl's dormitory.

Harry turned back to his homework, wondering why she didn't just talk to Neville if it bothered her so much. Girls are so moody, he thought, shaking his head.

"You're late, Harry."

"Sorry, Neville, Potions essay got the best of me."

"Glad I dropped it, then," Neville commented, his voice pleasanter than it had been lately. Harry, however, could hear its strain.

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