Annabeth Chase and Things Are Getting Intense

Chapter Five

Annabeth was woken up the next morning by someone bouncing as they plopped down on her bed. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, pushing herself up to see Hermione at the foot of the bed, beaming down at her.

"We didn't expect you until morning!" she said, wrapping Annabeth in a hug.

"When did you get here?" Ron, sitting on the side of Harry's bed, said energetically. "Mum's only just told us!"

"About one o'clock this morning," Harry said.

"Were the muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?"

"Same as usual. They didn't talk to me much, but I like it that way. How are you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Hermione said, turning to Annabeth. "And you? How have you been? There's a bruise on your cheek."

"Eh, nothing unusual." Annabeth dug into her backpack resting against the bed frame and pulled out her canteen of nectar Ash the satyr had gotten for her last year. She took a sip and felt the tender spot on her cheek fade. "Percy and I got ambushed by a monster earlier. No big deal."

"I keep forgetting about that," Ron said ponderingly. "You're from the future. What's it like?"

Hermione gave him a reproachful look. "She obviously can't say, Ronald. It would mess with the continuum, right, Annabeth?"

Annabeth shrugged. "Probably." Her stomach rumbled. "Did we miss breakfast?"

"Mum's bringing up a tray," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "She reckons Harry looks underfed. So what's been going on?"

"nothing much," Harry said.

"Come off it! You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting," Harry said. "He just wanted us to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

"Oh." Ron's face fell just a little bit. "We thought—"

Hermione gave him a look.

Annabeth smirked. "You thought we'd be off fighting Death Eaters?"

"Well... yeah," Ron said. "But... Well, now that Umbridge has left, obviously we would need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er... what's he like?"

"He looks a bit like a walrus," Harry said immediately, "and he used to be head of Slytherin. Something wrong, Hermione?"

Hermione jumped. She'd been looking at Harry with a strange gleam in her eyes, and Annabeth knew she was looking for signs of grief. But Annabeth knew that a lot of times, people didn't show their feelings, especially after someone had died. They could look perfectly fine the next week, but that didn't mean they felt it.

"No, of course not!" Hermione said. "So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'd be a good teacher?"

"Maybe," Annabeth mused. "But he seems biased, even though he'd deny it."

Harry shrugged. "Can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge." Ginny stalked into the room, arms crossed and looking annoyed. "Hi, Annabeth. Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Ron asked.

"It's her." Ginny plopped down on Annabeth's bed. "She's driving me mad."

"What's she done now?" Hermione said sympathetically.

"It's the way she talks to me—you'd think I was about three!"

"I know." Hermione lowered her voice. "She's so full of herself."

Annabeth frowned. "Who are you talking about?"