2. The first Victim

Authornote: First I would like to thank perivayne. For her assistance to this chapter. I love what you did. This is probably the start of a novel-length story. Which will maybe have a sequel. I have it all in my head. So I let it start.

The Low Shine of Light

Chapter One – The First Victims

Time passed slowly as Harry lay sprawled on his bed with his arms beneath his head and stared at the shifting of light and shadow along the walls on the smallest bedroom in Number 4, Privet Drive; his bedroom. Better to call it his prison cell. The bands of light were blurry because his glasses were on the bedside table.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Harry left King’s Cross to return back to his relative’s house, which was so far away from the Wizarding World. Here, isolated in his room from his now-solicitous relatives, he relived the events in the Department of Mysteries. Every time he closed his green eyes, Harry saw a familiar face set in a surprised, almost frightened expression. Sirius’s laughing voice dying away as he slowly falls backward through the veiled archway.

As the silence of night wore on, more images and sounds from his recent past echoed through his thoughts. Here in the Privet Drive, he did not attract misadventures as he did at Hogwarts. Here, deprived off the right to use his magic, Harry felt horribly powerless and vulnerable.

His fifth year at Hogwarts had been the worst year in his entire life. Though Harry loved Hogwarts for many reasons including being able to get away from the Dursleys, he now felt torn; longing to be back at school while also strangely reluctant to return.

During his more rational moments of grief, Harry knew that Voldemort was truly the only one guilty for the tragedies that had occurred. Voldemort had murdered Harry’s parents, who had actively worked against the Dark Lord’s forces. Murdered them because of an incomplete prophecy about a wizard boy born in the end of July. Harry survived the Dark Lord’s attack with only a lightning bolt scar on his forehead while Voldemort’s rebounded spell reduced him to a mere shadow.

He had also murdered Cedric, a brilliant and well-trained young wizard during the Tri-Wizard tournament during Harry’s fourth year simply because Cedric had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Indeed, it was Harry’s blood used in the spell to restore the dark wizard back to his powers after 14 years of relative peace for the rest of the Wizarding World. Harry was sure that in Voldemort’s hidden lair, the Dark Lord was currently busy plotting Harry’s demise.

But when his thoughts made their inevitable circle, Harry still despaired over the deeply rooted feeling that he, Harry Potter, was as much to blame for the deaths around him as Voldemort.

Wearily, the young man closed his eyes to try to sleep. The previous week had passed without Harry being able to find any uninterrupted rest. Always, the dreams would wake him, shaking and nauseated, after only an hour or two. In desperation Harry had taken to exhausting himself as much as possible to avoid the dreams, but still the dreams found him night after night.

His depressed thoughts also led him back to the prophecy and his seemingly inescapable fate.

Harry opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling while in the back of his mind a small voice kept asking, “Why me? Why didn’t he choose Neville? I don’t want this, let somebody else take my place…. why can’t I be someone, anyone else than Harry Potter?”

Sighing, Harry turned toward the wall and pulled his numb and prickling arms down from beneath his head; he had remained in that position so long that his arms had fallen asleep. The pillow had gone flat so he punched it into a slightly puffier shape before lowering his head.

To distract his mind from the self-pitying inner voice, he though about what small bits of innocuous news contained in the letters that his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, had just sent.

Ron was excited to help out his older twin brothers Fred and George Weasley in their new wizarding novelties shop. Business had been excellent in the Diagon Alley location, and Ron was making a decent income minding the store. Mrs Weasley was quite concerned over their safety, but with no further news of attacks or movement from Voldemort and his followers, she had relaxed a bit about Ron working there. His red-haired friend closed with a hope that his mother would convince Dumbeldore to permit Harry to visit before the end of the holidays.

Hermione had inquired about how Harry was feeling, and stated that what happened at the Ministry wasn’t Harry’s fault. She also was anxious to get her OWL scores and wanted Harry to owl her with his results the moment he got them. Unlike Ron, however, she had been scouring all wizarding and muggle papers and news broadcasts for anything unusual, but the summer so far had been remarkably quiet.

The voice trailed away after a few moments as sleep finally stole over his troubled mind. Even as he dozed, Harry knew the rare peace and stillness would not last long.

Darkness, silent and encompassing, swallowed any dreams that seemed would have come. Slowly, stars began to emerge from the abyss, followed by a comfortable coolness that surrounded him. Shadowy shapes formed out the darkness below him and Harry knew suddenly that he was hovering in the air. The amorphous shapes became recognizable as roofs of houses many feet below his point of view.

The homes were comfortably large and arranged similar to Privet Drive, but one home stood out to Harry. It seemed to be a muggle home with a too small chimney, cheery planted flowerbeds, electric lighting and winding walkway to the street. An incredibly powerful chill swept through Harry as he recognized the flash of magical green light spilling like lightning from the home’s windows.

His point of view lowered slowly until he looked through the large front windows into what seemed to be the front parlor of the home. Four people stood in the room, a couple in muggle clothing huddled against the far wall; two dark cloaked individuals stood opposite the couple, their wands pointing toward the man and woman.

As Harry concentrated on the scene, he suddenly was in the room behind the attackers. The dark wizard on Harry’s right raised his wand and in a sibilant voice said, “Crucio.” The red beam shot out and held on the older man across the room.

Horrified, Harry witnessed the man contort and writhe in agony, not screaming until he collapsed on the floor under the spell. The woman beside him cried out for the attacker to stop and tried to hold her companion. Realizing the dark wizards to Death Eaters, the young man fruitlessly searched for his missing wand to stop the attack.

Another voice screamed, “NO!” from Harry’s left. The two Death Eaters turned to face the direction the cry had come from, breaking off their attack on the man. The young woman moved forward into a swath of light from the outside and Harry recognized her. It was Hermione.

She raised her wand as the Death Eaters chuckled with evil glee, raising their wands to curse her. All three spoke their incantations but Hermione finished her spell first.

“Expelliarmus!” One Death Eater’s wand shot from his hand, disrupting his spell. Hermione managed to duck the red beam of the other’s attack. As she cast her next spell toward the remaining Death Eater, a strange globe of light absorbed the spell. He then Stunned Hermione as his companion retrieved his wand. Both turned back to the Muggle couple that Harry now recognized as Hermione’s parents and raised their wands.

Hermione struggled to her feet, screaming in denial as the attackers began to mutter an incantation Harry couldn’t quite place. Pulsating green light enveloped the Grangers, who both collapsed. Hermione found her wand and spun around to attack only to be caught in the spell cast by the Death Eaters.

“Crucio”

Hermione’s screams echoed shrilly through Harry’s mind as he fought to try and help his friend. The vision began to blur as Harry felt himself being pushed away. Evil laughter, distant, cold followed Harry into consciousness.

No, no, this can’t be real…NO!”

Harry sat straight up, his scream still ringing in his ear. He panted as he listened to hear if he had disturbed the Dursley’s, but no shout of indignation at being awoken came. As Harry swung his legs over to the floor and placed his head in his hands, he tried to calm himself.

“It can’t be true, what I saw…The Order is watching over the Grangers. Voldemort was just trying to trick me again… He wants me to go outside….” He kept repeating sensible statements that he heard in his mind, spoken in Hermione’s crisp, know-it-all tone.

Glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table, he placed his glasses on so he could read the time. It was almost 4:21 am and the sun was starting to brighten the day in earnest. Harry sighed and just chalked it up as another night’s sleep lost, and rose to dress for the day.

As he pulled on an old t-shirt over his head, Harry reflected on how isolated he felt here at Privet drive, separated from the magical world. Trying to tame his wild hair, the changes in his body due to proper feeding and exercise while he attended Hogwarts showed in the tight fit of the t-shirt across his shoulders and chest. Before, this old cast-off of Dudley’s would have hung loose over his skinny frame.

Harry tamed his hair into a semblance of order with effort, noticing that his scar seemed more prominent and redder than usual this morning. A distant squeal of car brakes drifted through his open window. Moving over to the window, he watched a bright red Vauxhall car turn into Privet Drive and headed up the roadway. From the way that the vehicle swerved from side to side, Harry suspected the driver might be ill or intoxicated. It continued toward Number 4, barely missing the post-box of Number 3 Privet Drive.

“What in the devil’s name…?” Harry whispered, unbelieving, as the car came to a screeching halt halfway in Number 4’s driveway. From his window, Harry couldn’t see who the driver might be, so he hastily gathered his wand and headed downstairs to the front door. Careful not to make noise and wake any of the Dursleys, Harry crept to the door and cracked it open slightly, his wand at the ready, to see the strange vehicle and its driver.

What he saw had him jerking open the door and running to the small form huddled on the grass with her head on her knees. That it might be a Death Eater trick didn’t cross Harry’s mind until he had almost reached her.

“Hermione! What are you doing here? What’s happened?” Harry slowed his approach as he spoke, coming to stand a few feet away. Hermione lifted her tear-streaked face up to him and tried to speak but nothing came out, and she starting shaking visibly as Harry, his concern overcoming caution, flung himself onto his knees beside his friend.

Her clothes were torn in places, and bloody in others. Tears started streaming down her face as Harry gathered her under his arm and tried to soothe her.

“Shh, you’re safe now….”

Hermione found her voice at last, “Oh, Harry… they came for us…two of them…”

Harry’s heart froze, the dream he’d had coming back with crystal clarity. Caution reasserted itself and Harry asked her quietly, “Hermione, what form does your Patronus take?”

Startled by Harry’s question, Hermione stuttered a moment, then realization flashed across her pale face.

“My Patronus is an otter.” Harry, closed his eyes, pain in his countenance, then he held her tighter as she sobbed against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Hermione –so sorry…” She cried for a few moments before attempting to try and tell him what had happened. Harry stopped her quickly.

“I saw the attack in my dream last night.” Hermione leaned back against his hold to stare horrified at him. Harry’s agony was visible in his eyes, and Hermione suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

“I couldn’t do anything to save them…I just grabbed Crookshanks and jumped in the car…didn’t even know if I could drive it …”

Harry smiled a bit at Hermione’s response. Obviously there hadn’t been a book handy to help her out in driving the car. A tired meow brought Harry’s head up to see Crookshanks on the grass in front of them, looking back over his shoulder. As Harry focused on the cat, he headed off down Privet Drive a few meters, and then looked back at the pair. Looking past the cat, Harry saw the street sign pointing to Magnolia Crescent. Mrs Figg, of course!

“We need to contact the Order at once, Hermione. We’ve got to get to Mrs. Figg’s, come on!”

Still in shock, Hermione stood up shakily with Harry’s assistance, and they headed toward Mrs. Figg’s house. Harry found himself trying to go faster, but Hermione was slowly starting to recover a bit as they went, so he curbed his anxiety and moderated the pace for her benefit.

Time seemed to be flying past as the pair crossed into Magnolia Cresecent and headed to Mrs. Figg’s home. Crookshanks trotted at their side, purring in encouragement for his mistress.

They reached the front door and Harry started pounding on the door when the doorbell didn’t produce Mrs Figg quickly enough. Hermione stood at the bottom of the steps and clutched her cardigan tighter around her body. Her familiar sat at her feet and leaned against her leg, purring loudly. She seemed to be swaying on her feet, her eyes becoming glazed.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry let off on his knocking as he noticed the change in his friend. She focused with difficulty on him, and then said, “I can’t anymore…anymore….the curse…”

Curse?!

Harry turned back to the door, frantic now. Hermione was in definite trouble and needed help.

“Mrs, Figg, open the door! It’s Harry!”

The door lock rattled and then the door swung open.

3. An Unexpected Visit

Author note: That’s the second chapter of this story and I would like to thank my beta-reader who is much more a co-author for me because she do so much to this story I should call her this. Thank you very much for your effort Perivayne. If you has any questions regarding to this story just post to this thread and I will answer you. I would like to thank you who did review I really thankfully to your kind words.

Chapter Two - An Unexpected Visit

Harry’s mind was racing with thoughts as he watched the door open and Mrs. Figg came peering blearily around the doorjamb. “What if we’re too late…. what if Mrs Figg can’t contact the Order…Where are the members who are supposed to be watching me…”. He quickly glanced back to Hermione to see she had closed her eyes to concentrate on staying upright. Crookshanks sat at her feet, staring upward anxiously and mewing in concern whenever Hermione seemed to be losing the fight to remain standing.

“What are you doing here at this hour in the morning, Harry Potter?” Mrs. Figg’s voice was clearly annoyed as she came forward into the threshold wearing a floral patterned dressing gown, floppy slippers and rag curlers completing the frumpy image of the older woman.

Mr. Tibbs, one of Mrs. Figg’s cats, poked his head out to observe the strange goings on at his mistress’ door. Crookshanks took immediate notice and meowed imperiously at the other cat, who then took off like a shot back into the house.

“Sorry for waking you, Mrs. Figg, but we need to talk to the Order straight away. It’s very important!”

The older woman was slow on the uptake due to the early hour, but after a moment, she finally noticed Hermione standing behind Harry, looking very wan.

“Are you trying to impress this girl, then? You shouldn’t be talking about the….the group to just anyone, young man! Really, I just don’t know wha…” Harry interrupted her grumpy harangue.

“Hermione is a witch, Mrs Figg, she and her family were attacked tonight by Voldemort’s …” Figg jumped as if she’d been bitten and shushed him, glancing anxiously about to be sure no neighbours were up and about to overhear them. As if there would be any Muggles lurking around at this time in the morning. Harry stated impatiently, “ We need to contact the Order!”

“Please, Mrs. Figg! My parents need help!” Hermione interrupted.

Harry turned around in surprise. His impression from his dream was that their attackers had killed Hermione’s parents, so his surprise soon turned to concern about the condition of the Grangers. Hermione seemed to exhaust her strength with her exclamation and she sank to the ground.

He sprang to Hermione’s side and knelt over her, “Hermione, are you alright?” Hermione shook her head as she held herself up with shaking arms. Harry slid behind her and took hold of her below her arms and called Mrs. Figg to assist him. The batty old Squib hurried down the shallow steps and went to the stricken girl’s side. Between them, Hermione was lifted to her feet and guided into Mrs. Figg’s home. Crookshanks brought up the rear, slithering past the doorjamb just before the door swung shut.

The smell of cabbages and cats still permeated the home. Hermione was placed in an overstuffed chair and a crocheting throw was tucked around her. Mrs. Figg bustled into her kitchen to brew a spot of tea for the ailing girl. Crookshanks jumped up onto his mistress’ lap and cuddled close. Mr. Tibbs and the other two cats then made an appearance and arranged themselves around Hermione’s legs and shoulders in similar comforting poses.

Harry, feeling a little useless in the face of all this feline solicitude, settled on the floor near Hermione and watched her face anxiously. She sat with her eyes closed and her breathing was shallow. After a few minutes, Mrs. Figg hurried back into the room and let Harry help Hermione sip her tea. She hovered in the background, muttering about missing help and wringing her hands.

Hermione began to recover as she drank the tea, and soon took the cup from Harry to finish the beverage without assistance. Harry turned to the older woman and repeated his demand to contact the Order of the Phoenix.

Mrs. Figg looked strangely anxious as she informed Harry that his guard had been called away during the night and had not yet returned. “Shacklebolt left a note that he was called away. Something to do with the Ministry, he didn’t say what.”

“How can we contact the Order? Hedwig? And what about the Grangers? They need help right now!” The older woman looked furtive for a moment, then mumbled, “Could use the Floo connection…”

“Your fireplace is connected to the Floo network? Brilliant! I’ll call them at Headquarters then!” He headed toward the large fireplace, looking about for the container of Floo powder. Mrs. Figg grabbed his arm to halt him.

“Not so quick, young man. The Floo connection isn’t to be used unless there’s no other way. That’s Dumbledore’s express order. And since I’m a Squib I don’t have a magical way to contact him.”

“But Hermione’s parents need help! We have to risk it, Mrs. Figg!” The batty old woman’s features set in a pinched expression and Harry felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. Aunt Petunia had a look very similar which usually boded no good in Harry’s experience.

“No, young man. We’ll wait for the next guard from the Order and let them contact…”

“WE will be using the Floo connection. Right now!” Hermione was on her feet, her wand held at her side with unmistakeable intent. Mrs. Figg blanched at the determined and deadly look in Hermione’s eyes, but tried to bluster in an attempt to regain her authority. “Now, wait just a minute, my girl, this is my …”

Hermione’s wand came up and held steady on Mrs. Figg who went silent in the face of girl’s obvious rage. Harry thrust himself in front of Mrs. Figg and faced his friend.

“Hermione, what are you doing? You’re not allowed to do magic outside of school unless it’s in self-defence!” Harry checked a moment, realising that somehow his and Hermione’s roles had been reversed. “We don’t have time to argue about this, both of you! Your parents need help! Hermione, please!”

His words seemed to finally reach his friend. She blinked, then a confused look came over her face and she lowered the wand. Mrs. Figg, thoroughly cowed by this point scrambled to a cabinet near the fireplace and retrieved a small container of Floo powder. She handed the stuff to Harry and beat a quick retreat to her kitchen, followed by her three cats. Crookshanks remained seated regally in Hermione’s chair.

Harry turned back to the fireplace, and took a pinch of Floo powder. Tossing it into the fireplace, he shouted, “12 Grimmauld Place!” The green flames sprang up hungrily and he knelt down and put his head into the flames.

After the spinning sensation stopped, Harry opened his eyes to see that the kitchen in Grimmauld Place was dark and silent. Looking around, Harry could detect no one in the room.

“Hello! Anyone there, please! Remus, can you hear me?” His voice echoed in the room. He called again and heard the sound of sudden and heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs. Finally, a rumpled and out-of-breath Remus Lupin arrived before the fireplace.

“Harry! What are you doing, calling here? You should be in your Aunt’s house!” Lupin paused to take a breath, and Harry interrupted, “Hermione and her parents were attacked by Death Eaters last night. Hermione got away and came to Surrey, but she was cursed with something, I don’t know what exactly.”

Lupin looked stunned, “ Hermione and her parents? But the wards should have let Dumbledore know if anyone…” The sound of the front door opening and the more footsteps echoed from above, accompanied by Tonks’ shout, “Oy, Remus! Where are you?” Lupin called for her to come into the kitchen as Harry continued, “Hermione’s ill, it’s amazing she made it here in one piece. She says her parents were still alive when she left. Somebody has to go help them!”

Tonks had entered halfway through Harry’s statement. Remus glanced over at her and nodded. Tonks spun round, to leave and tripped over a chair leg. The resultant crash made both Harry and Remus cringe.

“Bloody chair…bloody feet…I’m on it, Remus. Let Shacklebolt know when he arrives. I’ll let you know when we reach St. Mungo’s, alright?” And with that, Tonks dashed out.

Remus turned back to Harry. “I’ll apparate to Mrs. Figg’s in just a few moments to help Hermione, ok, Harry? I just need to let Albus know what’s been going on first. Don’t go outside again until I arrive!”

Harry nodded, relieved. Extracting his head, he sat back to let the spinning pass and then turned back to his best friend. She was sitting in the chair again, with Crookshanks on her lap. Silent tears tracked down her face as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Not knowing what else to do for her, he sat on the arm of her chair and placed his arm around her shoulders. Hermione turned her face into his arm and sobbed. Mrs. Figg, popping her head around the corner to see if it was safe to come out, saw the pair and ducked back out of sight.

The loud crack of a person apparating came from the kitchen. On the heels of that, Mrs. Figg’s feelings of misuse were evident in the complaints about high-handed behaviour by the youth of today. Remus came into the parlour room where Hermione and Harry waited with Mrs. Figg close behind.

Remus pulled his wand and held it over Hermione’s head. Harry steeped back toward the fireplace to not be in the way of the spell. The older man spoke in a soft murmur “Patesco Incantatum” while moving the tip in a figure eight. A mote of blue light formed in the centre of the pattern and slowly drifted down. As it touched Hermione’s head, it’s colour changed drastically, bright red bleeding into the blue and then beginning to pulse like a heartbeat.

Harry did not know what the change meant, but the look on Remus’ face indicated concern. He ended the spell and then turned to Harry. “Hermione needs to go to St. Mungo’s immediately, Harry. Since the situation is so confused, Dumbledore wants you to return to your aunt’s in the interim.” Harry immediately opened his mouth to protest, but Remus put his hand on his shoulder. “I know you want to go with Hermione, Harry, but this may be a ruse to lure you out of Privet Drive. Until we can be sure, you need to stay.”

Anger boiled up for a moment, and then froze as the memory of the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries surfaced in Harry’s mind. Yes, it could be a plot of Voldemort’s to catch Harry out. After a moment, Harry nodded, acquiescing to Remus’ order. Remus’s hand tightened briefly on the boy’s shoulder and he gave a small sad smile as he watched the frustration in Harry’s face.

Crookshanks suddenly let out an incredible yowl, and the two turned to see Hermione slumped over the arm of the chair. Remus quickly hurried to her and picked her up. Harry touched Hermione’s head quickly before stepping back and nodding to Remus to go. A with another sharp crack of sound, they were gone.

Harry said goodbye to Mrs. Figg and thanked her for the use of her fireplace. She snorted in disbelief first, but then seemed to be mollified by Harry’s good manners. Crookshanks appeared to have taken up residence in the chair beside the fireplace. He mewed as Harry passed, but made no move to follow the boy.

As he walked back to Number 4 Privet Drive in the early morning light, Harry pondered what could be wrong with Hermione and when he would get to see her again. He was so involved in his thoughts that he did not realise he had reached his relatives’ home until his Uncle Vernon bellowed, “Who’s bloody vehicle is blocking my driveway?”

4. The day after

Authornote: I’m really sorry that it took so long but finally here is the next chapter. It’s a little bit short but for this exist a plot reason. I would like to thank perivayne for her co-writing and betaing. She did a lovely job even as I insist a rather mean cliff-hanger.

The Day after – Chapter 3

After an extremely uncomfortable quarter hour of trying to explain what had happened to an increasingly louder Uncle Vernon, whose racket soon roused his wife and son to join him in united disapproval of Harry, the young wizard had had enough. His uncle stopped mid-invective when Harry’s wand covertly prodded his stomach, and his nephew whispered what he would do if his uncle did not shut up.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare u-use magic, they’d throw you out of that freak school…” Uncle Vernon tried to regain his authority, but Harry had become older, wiser, and now that his friends were possibly in danger, completely ruthless.

“Would you care to test me to find out?” Harry softly asked, his tone deadly. Aunt Petunia seemed to sense their danger more acutely than either Vernon or Dudley. She grabbed each one by the arm and hustled them inside the house; pausing to shoot a panicked glance to where Harry stood in the front yard before shutting the door.

The young wizard spent a few minutes puzzling over what to do with Hermione’s vehicle, before he figured out how to put it into neutral gear and push it to Mrs. Figg’s house on Magnolia Crescent. He let the batty old Squib know what the car was doing in her driveway, and gave her the keys.

When Harry returned to Number 4, he found that the doors and windows had been locked and the curtains drawn. Typical, he thought, and so he sat down on the front step with his arms wrapped around his knees and waited patiently for the Dursleys to overcome their panic attack and let him back into the house.

Later the same evening, Harry finished addressing a letter to Dumbledore, requesting that he be allowed to go and see Hermione as soon as possible. Two similar letters already completed on the desk were addressed to Dumbledore and Lupin respectively. Hedwig was out hunting at the moment, so he sat at his desk staring out into the darkness awaiting her return.

As the night wore on, he heard the Dursleys retire for the evening. Dudley came in an hour later, attempting to tiptoe quietly past his parents’ bedroom. Harry wished to open his door and inform him that people of Dudley’s size couldn’t be stealthy, especially when a floor squeaks under their weight, but Harry knew that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn’t do a blessed thing to curb their overgrown bully of a son, so he simply moved to his bed to stretch out and listen for his familiar’s return.

He must have dozed for a time, for when he opened his eyes; the moon had risen and was streaming through the window. Glancing over to Hedwig’s cage, Harry found she still hadn’t returned. Concerned, he got up to look out the window to see if he could spot the snowy owl returning, but the night was still and peaceful.

A soft crack caught his attention. The sound came from the top of the street and Harry rushed back to his bed to snatch up his wand before trying to spot any approaching wizards. The solitary form of a man hove into view, walking quietly and quickly down the lane toward Number 4. Harry strained to make out his features in the darkness until the man strode through an island light from the nearby lamppost.

“Lupin!”

Harry quickly rushed down the stairs, uncaring if he roused his relatives and opened the front door as Remus stepped up onto the front step. “Harry,” he said shaking his head resignedly, “You need to be more cautious now. What if I had been a Death E…”

“How’s Hermione? What about her parents? What’s be done to them? Can I go to St Mungo’s to see her…” Lupin held up both hands to stop the interrogation as he smiled. “I think we can address all that at a later time. Albus wants you moved to Headquarters so he can begin your Occulmency training. Let’s get your gear together quickly. The portkey’s set for 15 minutes.”

Harry sprinted back up the stairs, rapidly packing what little he hadn’t already packed in anticipation of leaving Privet Drive, though Harry honestly admitted to himself that he would have gone to see Hermione soon anyway without express permission. The Dursleys were awakened by his return to his room, and Harry could hear Uncle Vernon’s blustering about the disruption to his sleep come to abrupt end. Lupin’s voice was pitched low, with a menacing undertone Harry had never heard him use, but the young wizard couldn’t make out what was exactly said.

Picking up the end of his trunk, Harry dragged it to the top of the stairs where Lupin levitated it down the steps. Quickly returning to his room to snatch up Hedwig’s cage and his Firebolt broom, he glanced about once to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Spying his letters on his desk, Harry grabbed them and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans and left the room.

Uncle Vernon was standing on the far side of the parlour with large pieces of furniture between him and the werewolf wizard. Lupin looked quite mild and pleasant, with his worn jumper and trousers, Harry’s trunk at his feet. Harry said, “ All packed and ready, Professor,” Lupin chuckled and said, “You’re never going to stop using that title, are you, Harry?” He checked his watch and said, “One minute left.” A battered tin cup was pulled from his pocket, and he reached down to pick-up one end of Harry’s trunk.

“You won’t see your nephew until next summer,” Lupin stated softly, “You do intend to wish him well, don’t you?” Vernon blinked, looking like a wild animal suddenly caught by in a spotlight, before stammering out a simple, “Have a good year, Potter.”

Lupin began to count down; Harry stood stunned at the remarkably polite comment from his uncle, unable to formulate a coherent verbal response and so just nodded in acknowledgement of his uncle’s words. Clearly, he had missed something of great import between Lupin and Dursley before he had come into the parlour. Harry grasped the handle of the cup a bit tighter and felt the familiar jerk from behind his navel and the spinning sensation that ended abruptly in the front hall of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry’s breath caught as he looked around to the familiar sight of the ancestral Home of the Black family. Here in the front hall, everything remained as it had been the last time Harry had seen it and he half expected the kitchen door would open any minute and Sirius would come out to greet him.

Harry swallowed hard as the painful thought of Sirius’ loss caused his stomach to churn, but thankfully, his concern for Hermione overtook his grief and suppressed the knot in his stomach.

“Let’s go upstairs.”, whispered Lupin as he laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder to guide him past the curtained portrait of Mrs. Black. Harry took Hedwig’s cage and his Firebolt and quietly climbed the stairs with Lupin following with his levitated trunk. They proceeded to second floor, keeping their progress as silent as possible. As they approached the room he had shared with Ron the previous year, he stopped short, suddenly aware that he still didn’t know anything about what had been done to the Grangers and Hermione. Harry turned around to question the werewolf.

“Later.” Lupin said before Harry could open his mouth.

Harry’s anger rose; he couldn’t believe that Lupin would not answer his questions now. He had been patient and waited at Privet Drive without haring off or doing something rash, but now it was close to twelve hours since Hermione had appeared at Privet Drive. Again, they were treating him as if he was a child who must be protected from any hurt. She might be dead by now. At that thought, Harry felt his anger turn to ice around his heart.

Harry looked up and met Lupin’s eyes. “She isn’t…she isn’t dead, or…?”, his voice was low and hesitant. Lupin looked torn and briefly closed his eyes. There was a moment of silence and then Lupin said, “Harry, I-“

A loud crash from below and the screaming voice of Mrs Black interrupted him. “Go and get rest, Harry. We’ll talk later,” The older wizard turned and headed quickly downstairs while Harry watched him leave. Once the werewolf was out of sight, the young wizard entered his bedroom, placed Hedwig’s cage on the desk with his Firebolt and threw himself down on his bed.

What was going on? Why would no one tell him? Harry’s fists clenched as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He looked over at the other bed and realised he wished he could talk to Ron about what had happened and how he was being treated again.

Exhaustion won out however over ire, and Harry soon fell asleep.

5. The Real Hero/partone

Chapter 4. The Real Hero/ Part one

He floated in soft quiet darkness with no pain or memories there to torment him. The silence was complete and comforting in every way to the young wizard. How long he had been in this sheltered place, Harry could not say.

But as with most things in Harry’s life up till now, it wasn’t to last.

Suddenly an ear-piercing scream echoed through the void surrounding Harry. It rose sharply to an agonizing pitch that had Harry reflexively flinching from the pain-filled sound. Neither a single light nor any shape could be seen in the gloom. The only reality was the sound of agony, wrenched from the throat of someone unseen. As suddenly as the sound had come, it died down to a whimper and then it was gone.

“Harry…Harry…Harry...” A new voice was calling his name, sounding far away at first. The voice grew louder for a moment, then weaker before strengthening once more. It seemed to advance and retreat like waves across a beach. Harry turned blindly in place seeking the source of this new sound. The darkness lightened into grey fog and he felt a rushing sensation as if he was surfacing through a deep lake.

Light pierced the fog and Harry found himself tangled up in the bed covers, sweat soaking his pyjamas and hair. A shape was bent over here and was gently shaking his shoulders.

“Wake up, Harry.” It was the calm voice he had heard last in the darkness. Somehow, Harry realized instinctually that this voice had not been the screamer. Harry opened his eyes wide, blinking tears away to focus. Mild blue eyes shone through half-moon glasses perched precariously on a long nose came into focus when Harry squinted, relief blazing through him as he recognized the old wizard. Dumbledore.

Harry was panting slightly from the dream, if that was what it had been. He could still hear a distant echo of this scream in his mind. As he recovered his equilibrium, he now realized to whom the scream belonged.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Harry knew that had been just a regular nightmare born out of his fears and anxiety. “Professor Dumbledore!” Harry gasped. His heart was beating a fast tattoo inside his chest, causing him to gulp for air.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Dumbledore said carefully. Harry nodded quickly, questions blossoming in his eyes for the ancient wizard. Before he could vocalize even one, Dumbledore minutely shook his head and let his eyes shift toward the right. “Morning, Harry.” came the rather depressed voice of Ron Weasley.

Harry turned his head to see Ron sitting on the bed that had been his last summer. Slowly, Harry sat up and looked with expectation at the Headmaster. “What happened to the Grangers?” Harry asked him, guessing Dumbledore had wanted to keep something from Ron and so had asked a general rather than the specific question he had wanted.

“The Grangers are now being cared for in St Mungo’s as we determine what was done to them. The healers are still investigating their condition, but they are stable for now.”

Harry could tell that Dumbledore could read his irate expression at this lack of information. The older wizard turned toward the young red-haired wizard, “Mr. Weasley, could you fetch some of your mother’s excellent breakfast upstairs for Harry?” Ron nodded and trotted downstairs, shouting to his mother that Harry was finally awake and was hungry. Obviously, Ron had forgotten Mrs. Black’s portrait, which started screaming obscenities and imprecations at top volume.

Harry didn’t bother to listen to the row that had developed downstairs after his friend’s faux pas. He turned to Dumbledore, who gazed back serenly enough, but Harry noticed his twinkle was not present.

“What’s really going on, sir? I need for you to tell me.” Harry was proud of how even and calm his voice sounded. Dumbledore nodded and said softly, “I will tell you everything in shortly, Harry. Molly is adamant that Ron and Ginny are not to be told the particulars of the Granger’s situation. I would request that you do not share what I tell you with Ron or Ginny for Molly’s sake. Can you do this?”

Harry did not like the idea of having to keep secrets from Ron, but knew if he did not agree, Dumbledore would not inform him further about what had happened to Hermione and her parents. He nodded curtly as the Headmaster raised an eyebrow.

“As I said previously, they are in St Mungo’s and are in stable condition for now. Hermione seems not to be affected in the same way as her parents.” The old wizard sat down on the foot of Harry’s bed and pulled out his wand and quickly cast a spell. Small sounds that Harry’s consciousness had disregarded as simple background noises now seemed intensified. Privacy charm, the young wizard thought the voice sounded like Hermione in the back of his mind.

With a deep sigh, Dumbledore continued. “We are still working on determining the exact nature of the curse that was cast on the Grangers. We have discovered that it is slowly draining the life force from its victims.”

Harry stared; his face was a study in abject horror. Dumbledore met the eyes of his young student unwaveringly as he stated, “Harry, this spell is new to all of us. We can stop the progression, but until we gain a working knowledge of what the curse is truly… we cannot reverse the process.”

The pause caused Harry’s blood to boil. Dumbledore was censoring what he was telling him again. Unable to check his anger, Harry spat out, “So, now this is the part where you tell me that it isn’t my fault and pat me on the head and tell me not to worry?”

The young man’s tone was icy. Dumbledore reflected for a moment at the turn in the conversation, but then with a grave nod, continued.

“As I previously stated, Hermione is not affected in the same way, possibly the curse is not meant for witches or wizards, or something happened during the casting to disrupt it. The healers are positive she will recover fully within a few days. Her parents remain our greatest concern.”

Harry turned away to stare out the window. The sunshine was bright and clear today, as if in opposition to Harry’s mental and emotional state.

Dumbledore turned to gaze out to the brilliant light outside. “The ramifications of this curse is staggering, Harry; a new spell to kill Muggles and only Muggles. Such a heinous thing would broach the secrecy of the Wizarding World. This thing would rightfully panic any sensible individual, magical or non-magical. Voldemort’s hubris could very well lead to more than just a wizard civil war…”

Harry shifted his gaze to the slightly stooped back of his teacher. The weight of the knowledge lay heavily on Harry’s mind, and he saw its weight in Dumbledore’s posture as well. A sudden trill of sound sounded in the room. Dumbledore turned and dispelled the privacy charm just as Ron reached the door and carefully backed into the room with a tray of eggs, bacon and toast. A single glass of cold pumpkin juice must have been magically restrained, because as Ron juggled the tray, the liquid did not slosh out.

Ron placed the tray on the desk beside Harry’s bed and looked between his friend and the Headmaster, detecting the strained atmosphere in the room. In a rare moment of sensitivity, he mumbled about helping his mother downstairs and hurried from the room. The tall youth’s heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, waking Mrs. Black once again. Mrs. Weasley’s voice rose to a similar decibel level to berate Ron for waking the portrait once again.

Harry flopped back on his bed and stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. Dumbledore sighed softly, “Harry, I must discuss what you need…”

“I need to see Hermione.”

“I will take you to St. Mungo’s by portkey after you have eaten and dressed. Please do realize that events are in motion, and you need to be prepared for Voldemort. I will begin your occulmency lessons as soon as poss…”

Harry interrupted, “I see Hermione before I do anything, Professor.” His flat tone and calm voice made the determination behind the words. Dumbledore closed eyes wearily for a moment, then stood up and straightened his robes before saying softly, “I am sorry that you are angry with me, Harry. I had hoped that we could overcome what happened between us last year quickly, but I see that is not yet a possibility.” He removed a watch from his robes and then said, “I will escort you to St Mungo’s and Remus and Arthur will bring you back here when you have visited Hermione. I have business to attend at the Ministry but I will return tomorrow to begin your occulmency training. Remus, Kingsley and Nymphadora will also be instructing you in defensive and offensive skills and magic for the rest of your stay here.”

Harry clenched his jaw to stop himself from shouting at the headmaster. As always, he was being told how he would be living his life instead of being asked what he wanted. Stonily he stared at the older man and did not speak. Dumbledore nodded once, his weariness once more present before he swept from the room.

Harry leapt to his feet and began to pace, anger demanding any outlet it could find. He slammed open his trunk and pulled out some fresh clothes when a hesitant knock was followed by Ron’s head peeking around at him.

“Is it safe to come in?”

“Of course it is, you prat! This is your room, too!”

Ron glanced behind him as he entered, then quickly shut the door and demanded, “What’s going on with you and Dumbledore? It looked pretty tense, sort of like Mum when she’s about to lay into the twins…”

Harry held to his promise and simply told Ron he and Dumbledore had been discussing some special training. Ron’s face was pensive as he commented, “I thought he had told you what’s going on with Hermione. Mum won’t tell us anything. It’s bloody annoying.”

Harry quickly changed the subject, “So, how’s your summer been?”

“Pretty boring really. Did manage some Quidditch practice with Ginny at the Burrow before we got relocated here. The twins are living above their shop in Diagon Alley, which is driving Mum spare with worry. They’re doing really well though.”

Harry had just finished dressing and was starting on his breakfast as they talked about the twins’ business success and new products when another knock sounded on the door.

Ginny nipped in as soon as they called entry and sat down beside Ron on his bed.

“Dumbledore is waiting in the kitchen to take us to St. Mungo’s, Harry. Are you nearly finished?”

Harry glanced down at his plate. He had not eaten a third of the meal, but his anxiety tightened his stomach so much he felt he could not eat another bite.

“Yeah, I’m finished. Let’s get downstairs and go see Hermione.”

Authornote: I wanted to thank my co-writer Perivayne and I would like to explain why I needed so much time to update this story. Its like that normally if I write alone I can write more as one chapter at time. This means through the time my beta read the first chapter I write the second. But here I work with my co-writer together so I have to wait and to discuss how we write it and if its canon alike enough. We want to hold it believable that’s the goal of this story. Any comments are most welcome. I like to know what you think so far about this story. I did divide this chapter into two parts because its rather long. Thanks for reading.

6. The Real Hero/parttwo

The Real Hero, Part 2

The portkey trip to St. Mungo’s was quick and as normal as Harry had come to expect, but the corridor they arrived in was completely deserted except for them.

The silence was broken only by their footsteps echoing hollowly from the wooden floor. A few portraits of some unknown healers watched in interest as the group passed, but none spoke. Something about the portraits’ unwavering attention made Harry slightly uneasy. Nothing about this corridor was even remotely familiar to him.

“Molly won’t be happy about you two being here.” Said Lupin in a resigned voice. Harry could just imagine the tongue-lashing Lupin was probably going to receive from the Weasley matriarch.

“I’m almost of age. She needs to let go-.” Ron responded as Harry continued to glance around at their surroundings. This was a completely different part of St. Mungo’s that he hadn’t seen.

“Where are we?” Harry asked Lupin.

“This is the sixth floor.”

“Sixth floor? Hang on, there’s only five floors.” Ron stopped in his tracks and looked askance at the older man. Harry also turned to hear Lupin’s explanation.

“Well, yes and no, Ron. The Sixth floor is a completely warded and protected area, unknown to most of the wizarding world. After Voldemort disappeared 14 years ago this floor was closed.” A door opened several feet down the corridor and Mad-eye Moody appeared followed by Mr Weasley and Tonks.

”Here all research into understanding and reversing the Dark curses was done in secret. Also, those under Fidelius protection would be treated here in secret. The best Healers that the wizarding world had all worked here in those dark times.” Growled Mad-Eye as he joined them. Ron paled slightly as he saw his father. “Harry, how are you?” Mr Weasley asked him as he placed a reassuring hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“Fine!” Harry responded shortly.

“We should go. The portkey is set to return us in a half hour.” With that statement, Lupin headed down the corridor with Harry, Ron and Mr Weasley following him. Mad-Eye and Tonks went in the opposite direction. Obviously, they were going to be standing guard as Mad-eye’s lecture to Tonks on vigilance echoed back to the others as they walked away.

The activity of the corridor increased as they turned the corner. A few healers scurried back and forth between the rooms and the portraits whispered encouragement to lighten the depressing ambiance of the dimly lit corridor. Silently, Harry started to imagine what he could say to Hermione but his mind was blank. He didn’t know. He simply didn’t know what it was to fear for the life of one’s parents. A lump rose in his throat as he became painfully aware that he didn’t know how to help Hermione in this situation.

It had never been like this before. Finally, they stopped in front of stout oak door with a tarnished brass number plate that read Ward 9.

“I’ll wait out here for you.” Lupin told him as Mr. Weasley pulled Ron aside for a private word. Harry could see Ron’s reluctance as the two walked a bit further to be out of earshot. Ron was obviously questioning the timing, but Mr. Weasley was clearly insistent.

Harry turned to the door and pushed it open quietly, still stewing mentally about what was going on with Ron. It distracted him momentarily from his terror over not knowing what to say to Hermione.

The room was slightly brighter than the outer corridor than he had expected. Hermione sitting upright in a bed about halfway down the ward. Her face was turned away from the door toward the windows, which reflected a pastoral view of countryside instead of the London cityscape where they actually were presently. She didn’t turn around as Harry closed the door.

“Hey!” His voice sounded strangely soft to his own ears, but was still loud enough to get her attention. Her head whipped about as she gazed at her friend, desolation in her deep brown eyes. She seemed to struggle slightly before a slight smile appeared on her face.

“Harry!” Her voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if she had been using it too much. Harry went to her side. It was in her face and her eyes that it wasn’t an easy situation. As long as he had known her she hadn’t ever looked this way before.

He didn’t know if it was the curse or simply concern about her parents. But finally gaining control over his voice, he stuttered out, “I’m – I’m sorry –“

She interrupted him by grabbing his hand and holding it tightly, almost to the point of pain. “Thank you…thank you so much.” To his amazement, there was so much depth of emotion in her voice, but he didn’t understand why she would thank him.

He hadn’t done anything. “What…Why?”

For the first time she looked straight into his eyes. “Because of you my parents are still alive.” she whispered.

“No, not because of me. You – “ he tried to interrupt

“I did not,” Hermione told him sharply,” I – I wasn’t able to fight them. I’m so stupid.” Her chest was heaving under her gasping breathing as she leaned back against the pillow, her meager strength exhausted.

“Hermione, you aren’t stupid. Remember Dumbledore’s army? That was your idea. You’re such a brilliant witch –“ Harry couldn’t understand why his confident friend was saying this about herself. He couldn’t let her believe -

“I’m a brilliant know-it-all who wasn’t able to protect her own family.” She said bitterly.

“Hermione, they were adult wizards, those Death Eaters. You did everything you should have. I know, I’ve fought beside you. I doubt anyone else could’ve done more…” he trailed off, confused. Harry couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Hermione.

“Of course, you would have done better than me, Harry. You don’t lose your head when you’re attacked. It was Crookshanks who saved me. If he hadn’t attacked the Deatheater during the spell… I hadn’t gotten to you for help-” Hermione respond dispiritedly.

“You know, you’re right. You are certainly being stupid right now! Stupid to blame yourself for something you didn’t do. There were two Deatheaters and you were alone with your parents in the line of fire. It’s amazing that you survived at all. Don’t seek out blame and guilt, Hermione, because it’s not your fault that there are people like that in the world. Please, Hermione, I know you’re smarter than that.” Intently he watched her, willing her to understand, but all she did was to look back toward the windows.

A commotion at the door drew Harry’s gaze from his friend’s face to see his other best friend storm into the ward, his face and ears a blazing red that almost matched his hair color.

Harry sighed internally as Ron came toward them. This didn’t bode well.

Authornote: I would like to thank my co-writer perivayne. Well, I should now start to work at chapter 5, don’t I?

7. Promises made

Author note: I would like to thank my co-writer Perivayne and my betareader Renata. As you see, this is a much longer chapter. I can’t remember that I ever posted such a long chapter in any of my stories. I know it’s been a long time since I updated, but you know why it takes so long. But I hope this long chapter will do it. Of course I thank you for this many reviews.

Chapter 5 –Promises Made

Ron was seething with rage as he stormed across to Hermione’s bed. The last time Harry had seen him this angry had been in fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. The angry redheaded wizard looked back and forth between his friends as he tried to calm himself enough to speak.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked his best friend, with some trepidation. Hermione’s expression indicated some concern, but she remained silent for the moment.

“You won’t believe what my dad just told me!” Ron gulped a quick breath before continuing. “My parents,” he spat, “feel that just because I came with you instead of doing what my mum wanted, that it shows how they can’t trust me to have a proper sense of maturity to make my own decisions! They just can’t expect for me to stay behind when Hermione is here in this place. I’ve got the same right as you to see her.”

Harry tried to interject, but Ron’s sense of umbrage would not be denied. “Just because it might be dangerous to come see her? What about how dangerous it was for Hermione in her own home? I’ll tell you what, I’ll be happier when we’re back at Hogwarts.”

Harry sighed under his breath, not at all surprised at the Weasley’s protective attitude after his talk with Dumbledore. As he looked over to Hermione, he found she had turned away from them. Ron didn’t know the whole story, and Harry felt the promise he had given Dumbledore bite his conscience.

“It’s because of the Department of Mysteries, isn’t it?” His own voice sounded suddenly foreign to Harry, frigid and hollow. My fault, it’s my fault Ron’s parents are on about this…

“Yeah, after the brain attack scars healed, they started acting as if I’m still a child. Mum kept on about how I could have died, that it was just luck that Ginny and I were alive.”

“Your Mum is right. It is too dangerous. You shouldn’t be here, either of you,” Hermione said suddenly, turning to stare at both boys as they gaped in astonishment.

“Come on, Hermione. This is St. Mungo’s! It’s one of the safest places in London, and besides, we’ve only been here for maybe thirty minutes, tops. A dozen Aurors are walking the floors. We’re safe here, you know!” Ron went round to the other side of the bed and sat down near her feet.

Impatiently, she discounted that statement. “Even if there were a million Aurors, we still aren’t completely safe. Anywhere. Remember the stories of what it was like when Voldemort rose to power the first time? I read The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and I tell you that you aren’t safe. Only if you’re under Dumbledore’s direct protection, and then only maybe.” She turned back to Harry sharply. Harry wasn’t sure exactly what Hermione wanted him to do or say, but her eyes showed both temper and pleading at the same time.

To Harry’s amazement, Ron had not gotten angry at Hermione’s snappish remark, only flinching once at the mention of Voldemort’s name. Actually, he was smiling rather brightly. “Well, we’re in luck then, aren’t we?” Ron asked. “We are under the protection of Dumbledore.”

“Are we really?” Hermione replied to him softly, with a stiff expression, before Harry could speak.

The doubt and poorly hidden fear in her voice scored Harry’s heart. He didn’t like where this discussion was going, not at all. “You know, I didn’t want to upset you with arguing, Hermione,” he said. “Especially not about Voldemort.” He shot Ron an icy glare, and his tall friend looked a bit shamefaced.

“How are you, Hermione? Really?” Harry continued. At first, Hermione seemed to ignore this question in favour of her trademark death glaring at Ron who looked away from her after a few moments. Harry touched her shoulder to regain her attention.

“I’m fine. In two days, I should be able to leave St. Mungo’s, the Healers said.” Her voice was more normal now, and Ron returned his gaze to his bushy haired friend as she continued. “Then, I can at least get my homework done for….”

“You’re joking, right? It’s still summer holiday, Hermione! And with everything that’s happening, how can you think about homework at a time like this?” Ron shook his head disgustedly at this, completely missing the desperate look she shot at Harry.

It was in her eyes. She knew.

The whole time she was answering Ron’s dumbstruck query about her schoolwork, Hermione held Harry’s eyes. How did she know that Ron didn’t know everything about the attack on the Grangers? He wondered. This made Harry feel even guiltier about Ron’s forced ignorance of the situation.

The whole situation was becoming surreal. Now, Harry was increasingly forced to deal with his own situation alone. Ron couldn’t be told, Hermione was in deadly peril and Sirius had died in the Ministry of Magic trying to save him. One by one, all the people Harry had learned to depend on were being taken from him.

It struck Harry suddenly that he could no longer depend on his friends for advice as he had always done. They were all diverging from the single path that had seemed to be their destiny since they started at Hogwarts. How could Ron and Hermione be expected to help him with the Prophecy, Voldemort and all the rest that came with being Harry Potter?

It seemed that the only source that remained to him was Dumbledore, but Harry felt he wouldn’t get the answers he wanted from the elderly Headmaster. Was there a solution to this lack of support? If Hermione wasn’t healthy, and Ron didn’t even fully know what was going on around him, who else could Harry trust? Unable to think clearly about this epiphany at the moment, Harry sighed deeply and looked around the ward to distract himself.

The room wasn’t really bright or colourful, despite the magical windows reflecting the London skyline. Now that Harry was noticing, there weren’t any portraits on the walls either. The heavy wood panelling seemed dingy with dust and dirt, though the beds and furniture were spotless.

“There isn’t too much cheerful in here, I’m afraid.” Hermione had observed his attention to the room details. “This floor was only just reopened after…after the attack…” Hermione’s voice trailed off at the end but after a brief pause finished with slight hint of amusement. “But at least the beds are clean.”

“Isn’t it boring here with nothing to do?” Ron’s face reflected curiosity, while Harry rolled his eyes heavenward at his friend’s somewhat dense question. Hermione smirked at Harry’s reaction, and then answered.

“It’s not as if I could do much, anyway. I only managed to walk around the floor twice, since I’m still easily exhausted. They aren’t holding me here for another two days just for fun, you know.” Slowly, she laid her head back on her pillow and closed her eyes. It seemed as if their visit had cost her more energy than either boy had noticed.

A sharp rap on the door broke the silence that had fallen in the room. Remus Lupin opened the door and gazed at the trio of teens.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your visit, boys, but you need to say good-bye for now,” Lupin told them as he entered the room and went to Harry’s side. “The Portkey will be active in less than five minutes.” Ron looked a bit rebellious, but under Lupin’s intense gaze, he swallowed back his disgruntlement and rose to join the former DADA professor and Harry.

“Professor -- “ Hermione started, but Lupin stopped her gently.

“I’m no longer your Professor, Hermione. Please call me Remus.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Hermione’s face brightened with a small smile; Lupin smiled back.

Harry started to say his farewell, “I’ll -- We’ll see you real soon again, Her--“

The ward door slammed open against the wall with a harsh sound, causing everyone to turn and look at the dishevelled Tonks standing in the doorway, panting. An electric sense of danger swept through Harry, though he didn’t feel any twinges from his scar.

“Remus, we need your assistance. Now!”

Remus’ face was tense as he strode over to Tonks, who began speaking in a low voice that didn’t quite carry over to Harry and the others. With questioning expressions, both Ron and Hermione looked to Harry. But he could only shrug his shoulders. Just as Harry looked back to the pair in the doorway, he caught a glimpse of Mad-Eye moving forcefully down the hallway. The older Auror’s face betrayed no recognisable emotion, but Harry still sensed a difference. This wasn’t right; something was happening. Something that was not good.

“What’s going on?” Ron demanded as Remus turned back to them.

“Not now,” said Remus. “I’ll explain it later. First, you need to go back to Headquarters, all three of you. In two minutes, the Portkey becomes active again. I’ll send you three along to the Place. Do try to stay out of trouble, would you? We’ll meet you back there and then I’ll tell you what’s going on.” With this he handed Harry a copy of “Quidditch Through The Ages” and hurried from the room before anyone could say another word.

Alone in the room, Harry looked over to Ron, who just nodded sharply. Harry handed the book to Hermione, who stuttered, “What are y-you two d-doing…” Both boys ran to the ward door and carefully looked around the corner in the direction they had seen the adults going. The distant sounds of spells and screams issued from beyond their line of sight. Somewhere, a rather large fight was ensuing.

“Blimey! What’s happening, do you think, Harry?”

Harry shook his head and muttered, “Dunno. Maybe we should go see?”

As the two boys glanced at each other and made the decision, a pair of small hands pulled them back. Hermione held the book under her arm as she pulled the two boys back into the ward. She was visibly shaking from the effort, and Harry, concerned, reached his arm around her shoulders to support her.

“I can’t believe the two of you would be so stupid as…” Her diatribe was broken by a sudden spate of coughing. Across the hall, another ward door slammed open, revealing two unknown Aurors, who pelted out and down the hallway towards the ruckus. Harry could see several Healers in small groups surrounding what appeared to be three patients. Two patients were the Grangers, pale faced and unconscious, but the third was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Suddenly, the groups began to disappear as Portkeys were activated. Hermione stifled a sob when her parents disappeared. The best plan to the teens now seemed to be to leave as soon as possible.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked his friends, his voice shaky from what he’d just seen. He took the Portkey from Hermione. Ron just nodded, but Hermione remained motionless for a moment before she shook her head.

“What? What are you saying, Hermione?” questioned Ron.

“I – I can’t. You have to go without me,” she said in a quivering sort of voice. She straightened up abruptly, turned, and made as if to throw off Harry’s assistance to go to her bed.

It looked like she was forcing herself to stay due to her weakness, but Harry was determined to not leave one of his best friends behind, no matter her reasoning. “You’ll go with us,” he said. He put a hand on her shoulder and prevented her return to the bed.

“You don’t understand, I can’t leave,” Hermione said desperately, trying to stop him from placing her right hand firmly on the book Portkey. She fought to free her hand, but Harry was implacable. “Please, let me go. Please, Harry! You don’t understand, just leave me here, please!” she begged, with unshed tears in her eyes.

“Now, Ron.” said Harry, as Hermione still struggled against his grip. Without a word, Ron touched the Portkey as well. Harry felt the familiar jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet left the ground and the Portkey pulled him onwards in a howl of wind and swirling colour, Hermione and Ron at his side.

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground and fought to keep his balance, but Hermione’s additional weight made that impossible. He fell backwards onto the floor, and because of his strong grasp, Hermione landed atop him on the floor as well. Ron kept his feet, but only by grabbing onto one of the curtains over Mrs Black’s portrait.

The noisy arrival of the trio into the front entry of Number 12 Grimmauld Place became worse as the caterwauling of Mrs Black filled the room.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked Hermione, as she slowly regained her breath. He slid out from underneath his friend and carefully lifted her to her feet. Hermione tottered for a moment, but then managed to stand unassisted. Only after a few moments did Harry realise that he still had her hand in his.

He let go of her hand reluctantly when he saw her murderous glare. Never before he had seen her look at him like that. A cold shiver raced down Harry’s spine at her response to his high-handed behaviour.

“Where have you been, Ronald Weasley?” A horrified look passed over Ron’s face. He turned to his mother, who stood in the door to the kitchen, hands on her hips and a glint in her eyes that spelled trouble for her progeny. Ron was spared the oncoming storm of remonstrance from his mother only because she spotted Hermione standing in her nightdress just behind her son.

“Oh my dear, what are you doing here? I didn’t expect you for another few days. Let’s just get you settled upstairs, shall we?” Mrs Weasley bustled like a mother hen with an injured chick. She hurried over to Hermione and began to assist her to the stairs. The screaming Mrs. Black stopped in her diatribe long enough to pull in a gasping breath and Harry swiftly shut the curtains. Her voice died away quickly to a filthy mutter and then blessed silence.

“Professor Lupin – eh, I mean, Remus said that all three of us needed to get here. I believe St Mungo’s wasn’t safe anymore. We didn’t see --” As Harry described what had happened at the hospital in a low voice to Mrs. Weasley, he realized finally why Hermione hadn’t wanted to leave, what the terror in her eyes really meant. Suddenly painfully aware of what he had just done to his friend, Harry stopped short.

“Come, Hermione. You need to rest, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said sympathetically after Harry’s story finished. Hermione did not speak a word, but Harry could see in her face the exhaustion and pure frustrated rage that simmered below her quiet facade.

Harry couldn’t meet her gaze. He turned instead to hear Ron’s relieved sigh at his apparent reprieve from his mother’s wrath. It seemed that Ron would escape his mother’s ire without a lecture.

“And Ron, we WILL have a little chat later when your father gets back, young man!” With that, Mrs Weasley and Hermione made their way upstairs.

Ron cringed and shut his eyes tightly. “This doesn’t look good, Harry. She’s going to kill me.”

Harry forced an “hmm” of agreement, his thoughts dwelling on the terrible trespass he had just committed against Hermione. Ron continued stating his case, but Harry heard none of it and only responded when Ron stopped his rant, waiting for a response from his black haired friend.

“Come on, Ron, you know you did disobey her willfully. You said yourself you’re almost an adult. So, take responsibility for your actions and accept the punishment.”

“You have no idea what she’s able to come up with in regards to punishment, mate. She can surpass Snape sometimes in inflicted misery,” Ron whispered, glancing upward anxiously as if Mrs Weasley might overhear him.

Hermione’s parents were somewhere out there and probably in danger if the actions of the Healers indicated anything. Harry’s stomach somersaulted at this thought, especially now that he realised that this curse – whatever it was -- was the reason she had wanted to stay where she had felt safe. Lord, what if something happened to the Grangers?

Harry’s mouth went dry at the realisation that he had no idea how he could act around Hermione in such a case. Ron was still chuntering on about his mum as Harry closed his eyes. This little voice in his head, which had bothered him through the last two weeks, had returned. This part of his psyche that kept saying “What if?” was getting louder. All this evil was because of him and only him, Harry thought with despair.

“Well, she was quiet.” Ron’s voice penetrated his circling thoughts and stilled them with that statement.

“What?” Harry asked absently. Ron motioned for Harry to follow him down the entrance hall away from the stairs as he continued, “Hermione was too quiet. She isn’t normally like that. I mean usually she can’t stop speaking to save her life and granted she’s in hospital, but that quiet? I tell you there is something else going on with her. They must know what’s wrong with her.” Harry started at Ron’s uncannily accurate comment, but since his friend was still gazing up at the stairs, he did not see Harry’s reaction.

“It has something to do with You-Know-Who and they all think we’re too young to understand….” Suddenly, Ron noticed Harry’s stony expression. “I – I’m sorry, what did I say wrong?“

Harry spat out, “She has every right to be quiet after all she’s been through in the last few days, Ron! It’s not just about you, you know, prat! I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re going to have to look out for each other and our friends this year. Now that Voldemort’s shown us that he can hurt us, Hermione is right. No place is safe anymore, not even Hogwarts.” Harry’s own words made him cold. Ron stood dumbfounded at his friend’s sharp words.

At that moment, several loud cracks were heard and five wizards were standing in the entrance hall with Harry and Ron.

Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Mr. Weasley, Lupin and Bill glanced about anxiously for a moment before they spotted the boys, then relaxed. On Lupin’s right cheek a bruise was purpling up nicely, and the others all had signs of recent combat in their torn clothing and mussed appearances.

Ron’s reprieve from parental disapproval came to an abrupt end, for at that moment, Mrs Weasley came downstairs. After a cursory check of her husband and eldest son, she spoke firmly. “Ron, follow me to the kitchen. I need to talk to you. Arthur, please, I need you, too.”

“Wish me luck,” Ron said to Harry, who did as he requested. Ron’s face was glum as he followed his father into the kitchen.

As soon as Harry was sure Ron was out of earshot, he questioned Lupin. “What happened?”

For a second Lupin’s eyes were amused at Harry’s caution, then he answered. “Death Eaters attacked St Mungo’s, and a few Dementors, too. They got to fifth floor, but they were outnumbered and forced to retreat. We believe the attack was a warning to the Wizarding World. Everybody old enough to remember the first Rise knows what’s coming next.” Remus pulled Harry toward the front parlour as the other wizards headed off to rooms on the upper floors.

“Voldemort’s warning is as much to the people who supported him as to those who opposed him. It’s just a matter of time until his people start to practice the Dark Arts openly again.” Harry felt a sickening sense of horror at the thought, but he didn’t interrupt Lupin.

“Only one thing can be counted on from now on. Either you are for Voldemort or against him. Neutrality will not preserve anyone, and running away from the fight will only delay the inevitable. If he wins, Harry, life in the Wizarding World becomes a living hell. No Muggleborn will be safe anymore. Harry, dark times -- really dark times -- are at our doorstep.” Lupin stopped, though Harry could see he wanted to say more.

“Tell him all of it.” Moody’s gruff voice pulled Harry’s attention away from Lupin. “About the last time Voldemort held the Wizarding World hostage. About life under Voldemort’s last reign of terror. So dark a time that you didn’t, couldn't, trust anyone anymore. Not your family, not your friends, because they might betray you.”

“Are they all right? The Grangers?” Harry asked. Mad-Eye was looking at him with his normal eye while the magical eye spun around in its socket.

“They are in the same state as before. You can tell her that, Potter. There’s been no change,” he growled. On his scary-looking face a smile appeared, looking rather out-of-place there. Harry could feel both Moody and Lupin watching as he quickly climbed up the stairs to tell Hermione.

Each stair made a creaking sound as Harry stepped. This dark house was still like it had been just a year before, full of shadows. It was as if no time had passed since Harry had been here in the winter, but he knew his old life was gone. Forever. In its place was this twinned dark existence; full of nightmares and dread. Indeed, Dumbledore had been right in his statement to Voldemort in the Ministry that night in June.

There were things that were more terrible than death itself.

Slowly, he went along the shadowy dark hallway to the room that had been Ginny and Hermione’s last year. It was so quiet now that he could believe himself to be completely alone in the house.

More quickly than he liked, Harry was standing in front of her door and about to enter. He gathered up his Gryffindor courage and then soundlessly, Harry opened the door and peered through the gloom. He’d thought the corridor had been dark, but this simple room was darker than he could have imagined. Harry hadn’t been in the room before, but could just make out the shadows of two beds and a desk and chair near the window where the dark, heavy curtains had been drawn.

The only light streamed through a gap in the curtains and fell across the desk and floor. A single figure was silhouetted in the chair. As he crept inside and shut the door, Harry heard a cat begin to purr loudly.

He barely breathed, so tense was the mood. The figure turned its head toward him, and Harry knew it was Hermione.

“I’m sorry, Hermione.” he whispered, remorse and anguish in his voice.

“That’s the second time today, Harry, you’ve told me that. I would have done the same thing, you know, if I had been in your place.” She answered in a firm tone, motionless except for her repetitive stroking of Crookshanks, who lay curled up in her lap.

As Harry approached Hermione, he saw a faint glimmer of golden lines upon her face; silent tear tracks were gilded by the weak sunlight. He saw Crookshanks’ eyes reflect a ray of light before they closed and the purring intensified. He settled on the floor at her feet and gazed up at his friend, completely at a loss about how to help her and make things right between them.

“Your parents are safe. Nothing happened to them during the attack,” he said softly.

“My parents have always supported me, you know, though they knew I didn’t tell them everything that was happening. Everything I am, I am because of them, because of their love for me. I should have been able to protect them, but I failed. It was my --”

Harry reached up and took her hand. It was cold to the touch. He held it between both of his to warm it as he chided her gently, “Don’t do this to yourself. You did all that you could, Hermione. Not one of us could have done better, none of us. You are the smartest witch in our year, Hermione, and you will become a powerful witch when you’re grown. We will find a way to help your parents, I promise. Voldemort will pay for what he’s done.”

After a moment, her hand left his and rested against his forehead. Nonplussed, Harry stammered, “Wha-- what are you doing?”

“Checking for a fever,” she said cheekily. “Nope, no fever. Who are you and where’d you get the Polyjuice potion, sir? You can’t be the real Harry Potter. No way he’d ever be thiswise.” She chuckled at Harry’s disgruntled attempt to swipe her hand away. Her hand stroked through his fringe and traced his scar lightly.

“Do you really think we can help my parents? I wish I could have done more, changed what happened … what did I do wrong?” she whispered as she looked down at Harry.

“You taught me in 3^rd year that you can’t change what lies in the past, that you shouldn’t even try to change the past because it would be wrong. What happened happened, but if you keep worrying about what you could have done, then you risk missing your chance to affect the future.” Harry lowered his eyes as he struggled with his own doubts, mocking him for his past failures.

“We have to live in the now and work on making the present right, rather than dwelling on the wrong in the past.” He took her hand as he finished and held it tightly, willing his strength into her.

She nodded once as he finished, and a comfortable silence fell between them. Harry jumped when Crookshanks’ paw shot out and tried to catch his hand. He gave in to the cat’s importuning and reached over to stroke and scratch the feline’s head. The cat’s rumbling purr indicated he was in heaven over the attention. The purring began to relax both teens, making them loathe to break the mood with talking.

Hermione finally stopped her petting as she stared down into Harry’s eyes. Concerned, he asked her what was wrong.

“Would you do me a favour?” He was surprised at her quiet request but nodded in acquiescence.

She took a deep breath as if what she wanted was such an important thing that she feared he wouldn’t grant her request and needed to steel her courage to ask. She took his hand away from its stroking of Crookshanks’ ears and held it between both of hers.

“Promise me …” Her voice broke slightly, then she hurried on, “Promise me that you won’t leave me. No matter what happens, no matter how hopeless the outcome seems, promise me you won’t give up. That you will fight to stay with me.”

Harry was taken aback by her desperate plea. He had expected anything but this. He paused a moment, wondering if it was fair to give her an oath it was very probable he would not be able to achieve. The prophecy didn’t offer too much hope for his continued survival, but he couldn’t deny the need in her eyes.

“I promise. I won’t leave you, Hermione.” At least not willingly, he silently added in afterthought. Despite his misgivings about his ability to deliver on his oath, the smile on her face – the first real smile he’d seen on her face since last term -- more than outweighed his doubts.

He grinned back and then suggested she should probably be in bed. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at his mother-hen suggestion, but still got up and carried Crookshanks to the bed. He helped her into it and tucked her in.

“I’ll be just downstairs. If you need something, just send this large lump of fur to come get me, ok?” Harry smirked at Crookshanks’ narrowed eyes, but Hermione’s small giggle was reward enough.

As he left the room, Harry left the door cracked open enough for the cat to pass through easily and headed downstairs. The quiet of the house wasn’t broken until Harry reached the kitchen door. The muted sound of Mrs Weasley in full spate caused Harry to reconsider filling his empty stomach in favour of living to see his sixteenth birthday.

He spun around to head back upstairs before jumping back with a yell. Albus Dumbledore was standing just behind him, his blue eyes twinkling at Harry’s start.

“My apologies, Harry. But I’m not enthusiastic about attracting Molly’s attention at the moment. We need to talk.” Harry glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see that his yell had not attracted Mrs Weasley’s attention, and then he followed the Headmaster into the front parlour.

8. Training and Trials

Authornote: I would like to thank you for your patience to wait for an update that long. The past few weeks were pretty against me. Some of you may know that I was in the hospital and after that I needed some time to recover. Through this I couldn’t give Perivayne enough feedback. I thank her very much for her guidance and that she was so kind to point out flaws in this chapter which I send her without this you wouldn’t be able and read this update.This is the real update. The first one was a different vision. Its not really that much different but still its better to read. I like to thank Perivayne and Renata for betaing and guidance.

Chapter 6 – Training and Trials

The armchair was old and uncomfortable and the sun shining through the dingy windows played straight across Harry’s face. It was now midday -- the sun at zenith, the air warm and humid with the heat of summer -- but Harry still felt a chill deep inside.

In the last few days, so much had happened that he was still seeking to come to terms with all the changes and shocks. Always searching for a better solution for his problems, but finding none, Harry could not stop worrying. Hermione’s parents still hovered between life and death. Ron did not even know the impact of this new curse. It was only a matter of time until he figured it out or at least started to wonder why his parents were acting so strangely. Harry hated to keep Ron in the dark just because his parents didn’t want to let him deal with this situation.

“Harry, are you listening to me?” The soft voice of his headmaster penetrated his circling thoughts. Harry looked up into blue eyes, which were only twinkling this time because of the sunlight that touched lightly on the side of Dumbledore’s face.

“Sorry, sir. I was just – “

”Just deep in your thoughts; I understand, Harry. You carry a heavy burden on your young shoulders. As I said, we do not know what Voldemort is planning currently, at least not precisely. I’m determined to inform you as much as is possible. If you know what is happening, then you can prepare. ‘Chance favours the prepared mind.’ A strangely applicable Muggle quote…”

After a short pause, Dumbledore asked quietly, his voice sombre: “Do you remember what I said about the curse, Harry?”

Silently, Harry nodded.

“Only the order, Miss Granger and you know what this curse is doing to its victims, and I insist that you do not tell anyone else. We cannot risk Voldemort’s followers ascertaining that we know about his new curse, that the Order recognizes its design and purpose.”

This statement echoed in Harry’s mind, but he felt that Dumbledore wasn’t telling him everything he wanted to. That Dumbledore might answer to a higher authority was a concept Harry had learned in the most brutal way last term. “I know all this already, sir,” Harry stated, irritation rising inside.

“I hope you haven’t told anyone about the prophecy or what you felt when Voldemort possessed you in the Ministry?” Though the sun was shining along Dumbledore’s face, his eyes no longer reflected this light.

“No, I haven’t,” Harry answered in a small voice, suddenly very aware of where he was.

The walls of 12 Grimmauld Place seemed to close around him, to swallow him whole. Harry had never felt that since his arrival, but now it overwhelmed him to be here. Only a few feet away from this room, Harry had seen Sirius for the first time in this ancient house of the Black Family. How could Harry have forgotten Sirius’ loss, even for a moment?

“Very well,” said Dumbledore, “then we should start your Occlumency lessons. Voldemort must not be able to manipulate your dreams or your mind. It is now more important then ever to close the Dark Lord out.”

“Start the lessons now?” Harry questioned, taken aback by the Headmaster’s pronouncement. He knew a lesson wouldn’t help him today, for it would be impossible to clear his mind. Too much had happened the past days and weeks in his life.

Ron’s voice, raised in anger, drifted into the parlour despite the two closed doors. The argument with his parents in the kitchen was still going strong.

“Certainly not today, but tomorrow. Harry, you must know that I can only teach you until the next term starts. I hope you’ll understand that I won’t have enough time to teach you as often as you’ll need during term. On your weekends, probably, but during the week, Professor Sna-- “

“No! Not Snape,” Harry interrupted Dumbledore, his voice trembling with rage.

“Professor Snape, Harry. I understand that you don’t want -- “

“You don’t understand. I hate Snape. He hates me. I won’t have extra lessons with him again.” With that, Harry suddenly stood up and strode from the room toward the stairs.

As he reached the bottom step, Harry heard a loud crack, and he ran straight into Dumbledore.

“Do you want Voldemort to be able to trick you again, Harry?” The old wizard’s voice was no longer warm and comforting, but rather cold and abrupt.

Harry stared mutinously into Dumbledore’s eyes. The Headmaster held his gaze and after a moment, simply raised one brow in a questioning gesture.

“NO.” Harry finally shouted, goaded by Dumbledore into a response.

“Then you will have to have occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. Of course I’ll try to teach you as often as possible myself, but I can’t always promise you that. You need to learn restraint and control of your emotions, Harry. If you can overcome your dislike and mutual enmity to learn from Snape, it will only be to your benefit. You cannot let your temper rule your life,” Dumbledore said firmly.

“Tell Snape this. He is the one who hates me because of my father, the one who couldn’t care about Sirius’ death other than to celebrate it and he is the one who chose to serve Voldemort. Who’s to say that he won’t return to Voldemort?” Harry paused for a moment, then continued, “I hate him and I won’t let him weaken me, not again.”

Harry pushed past Dumbledore and ran up the stairs. Faintly he heard his headmaster’s response.

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll understand.” Dumbledore’s voice was soft and weary.

Panting for breath, Harry leaned his forehead against the cool wood of his bedroom door.

“I’ve had enough…” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse from yelling. With a final click, the door was shut and locked, and he was alone. It was something he desperately needed. Times like this he wished for Sirius and his advice. Sirius would understand him. At least, he could tell Sirius about the prophecy. Something furry brushed against his leg, startling Harry from his morose wishing.

He looked down and a squashed ginger face looked back. “Crookshanks, you blighter! You nearly startled me to death.” Remembering his conversation earlier with Hermione, Harry quickly unlocked his door and went to Hermione’s room.

Silently, he eased the door open to find Hermione resting peacefully, one hand tucked beneath her head. Harry looked down at Crookshanks, who gazed up at him with a definite “What?” expression.

“You were supposed to stay with her, you know that?” The ginger cat merely gazed back at the black-haired wizard inscrutably. Harry retraced his steps back to his room. Crookshanks followed him, meowing and scratching when Harry locked him out Giving in, Harry cracked the door wide enough for Hermione’s familiar to slip through, then shut and locked it once more.

With a soft sigh, Harry slid down against the wall next to his bed. The tomcat immediately curled up in his lap and began to purr. The purring intensified when the wizard stroked the ginger cat absently.

All the rest of the afternoon, Harry remained in his room, refusing to think about tomorrow. Crookshanks stayed with him, a solid comforting presence, rather like Buckbeak had been the previous year -- minus the rats, of course. Harry promised himself that Buckbeak would get a special dinner of a certain human rat one day. At dinnertime, he heard Mrs. Weasley softly calling his name from the first floor.

Getting up from his sitting position after several hours proved both difficult and painful, especially with Crookshanks’s bulk cutting off some of the circulation in his legs, but after some groaning and stretching, Harry managed. Crookshanks accompanied him out onto the landing, where Harry instructed the cat to go keep watch on Hermione.

“Don’t let on to Hermione about this. She would just worry about me. She always does,” Harry told Crookshanks as the cat headed off to Hermione’s room. He could hear her voice in his mind, lecturing him on how he needed to practice his Occlumency.

As he headed downstairs to the kitchen, her voice changed to another familiar plea, “Harry, I’m begging you, please!” he could still hear her say desperately. “Please let’s just check that Sirius isn’t at home before we go charging off to London. If we find out he’s not there, then I swear I won’t try to stop you. I’ll come, I’ll d – do whatever it takes to try and save him.”

And she had done just that. Shaking his head vigorously, Harry desperately tried to stop this particular memory and its painful conclusion. He did not want to agonize again over his lost godfather and the injuries to his best friends – friends who had put themselves in harm’s way for Harry’s sake.

It was early evening now and though Harry had not eaten anything since breakfast, he found he was not hungry. Mrs Weasley would very likely fret if he missed this meal, so Harry reluctantly went down to dinner.

Painful memories and deeply felt guilt made this house nearly intolerable to Harry. Several times during his isolation, Crookshanks had found his fur dampened by Harry’s quiet tears, but the cat had remained with him. He’d asked Crookshanks all the questions he had asked himself during his time with the Dursleys. Questions about death, about what it meant to be dead. Questions about fate, about destiny and whether destiny could be changed. Crookshanks could offer no reply except a soft meow or a comforting, rumbling purr.

Dinner was a strained affair, with the Weasleys all showing signs of the tension they were under. Ron barely spoke, and then only to Harry. Ginny bravely tried to keep a conversation going, but failed. As soon as the meal finished, Harry escaped upstairs with Hermione’s tray. He heard Ron enter the bedroom and slam the door.

Hermione had awoken at the slamming, and was a bit hungry. She ate lightly and then chatted quietly with Harry about nothing in particular. Harry did let her know about the Weasleys’ argument and Ron’s anger. Her expression showed concern, but also disdain at Ron’s antics.

“Honestly! No wonder they don’t treat him more like a grown man. He’ll have to show some maturity sometime if he wants them to change.” Harry felt he should defend Ron’s position, since facts were being withheld from their red-haired friend, but Hermione had snuggled back down with an exhausted expression, so Harry held his peace on the matter.

After returning the tray and dishes back the kitchen, Harry carefully opened the door to the bedroom that he shared with Ron. The steady snoring from Ron seemed genuine, so Harry undressed quietly before slipping into his own bed. The last time they had stayed in this room together flashed through Harry’s mind, with all the pain and anguish that Harry had felt made fresh once more. At least I don’t have to fear that Voldemort wants to possess me this time, he thought. Still, Harry wished that he could know what it would be like to be free of the fears and expectations. To be anyone but Harry Potter.

On the front page of the Daily Prophet the next morning was the grinning visage of a handsome boy of around nineteen years with a Nimbus 2001 broom over his shoulder. The boy’s image waved cheerfully at Harry. Under the picture scrolled the legend: Benji Looping, the new Seeker of the Tornados. TTT The front page of the Prophet annoyed Harry a great deal, because not a single line was about the attack at St Mungo’s yesterday. Instead there was just this silly guy and all the other mindless gossip that abounded in the Wizarding World.

Turning away from the paper irritably, he saw the flame-red hair that belonged to Ginny Weasley. She seemed to be adopting some of Hermione’s daily morning habits; she intently read her own copy of the paper as she ate. Harry forced down a bit of his porridge and a couple slices of toast, but nothing else. In the kitchen, the mood was still as tense as the night before, with angry glances still being exchanged between the elder Weasleys and their youngest son. Hermione was still too weak to come downstairs for breakfast, or so she had said.

The atmosphere in the room did not lighten as the meal continued. Harry kept glancing over at Ginny expecting to see someone else in her place. Ron did not seem keen to talk to anyone this morning, not even Harry. Harry assumed the argument between Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ron had been quite intense since the dark feelings had not even begun to subside.

“Ginny, would you be so kind as to bring Hermione her breakfast?” Mrs Weasley said firmly. The shock of hearing her voice caused both Harry and Ginny to jerk in their seats. Ginny was quick to take the opportunity to escape.

“Of course, Mum!” she said happily as she laid her paper down and jumped to her feet to take the prepared tray Mrs. Weasley held out to her.

“Isn’t she allowed to get her breakfast herself?” Ron asked sharply.

Harry looked in astonishment from Ginny to Ron then back to Ginny, who just shrugged as their eyes met.

“No, she’s not coming down today, Ron.” Mrs Weasley answered in the same sharp tone. “If you haven’t noticed, she is still suffering from being cursed. Hermione is a strong girl, but not invulnerable.”

“Oh, that’s rich. Like you even care!” Ron snapped back. Mrs Weasley’s face paled ominously as she lowered her voice, “Don’t take that tone with me, young man.”

Ginny gathered some pumpkin juice for the tray and left the kitchen quietly. Harry watched her departure with a wistful look. If only he could escape as easily as she had done. He had never been witness to such unguarded emotion from the Weasley family and it was becoming distinctly disturbing to Harry. As Harry glanced about for anything to distract the pair, he observed both of their faces were flushing a bright red as tempers roused.

“Bloody Hell, Mum!. Why can’t you accept that I can decide myself now? I’m sixteen years old!” Ron exploded with rage from his chair.

“You are not of age, Ronald Weasley! I’m your mother and I do care what happens to you!” Mrs Weasley’s eyes were bright with unshed tears that made Harry squirm inside with discomfort.

“C’mon Ron, let it be, won’t you? Your mother’s just worried for you. What’s wrong with that?” Harry asked.

His face even redder than before, Ron now turned on Harry. “Who asked you? Who asked you for your opinion? How…how dare you – “

”Ron! Stop this at once! Harry, I think you should go up to your room. Dumbledore should be here to see you very soon,” Mrs Weasley interrupted Ron hurriedly. Harry glanced at Ron as he stood up and left the kitchen, with a worried feeling that there was more to Ron’s anger than just his parents’ protectiveness.

As the green-eyed wizard climbed the stairs to the second floor, he realized that he had no idea what had happened yesterday between the Weasleys and their son. This bothered Harry a lot. He entered his room and found Dumbledore was already waiting for him. The tall figure of his Headmaster stood in front of the windows looking out over the somewhat seedy looking neighbourhood of Grimmauld Place.

“I just had a little chat with Miss Granger, and she informed me what colour light this curse had. I’m more than a little bit concerned about our young lady. You know, Harry, that her parents are still in a fragile state, but Hermione refuses to admit any particular weakness stemming from her attack.”

Without a pause, Dumbledore continued as Harry sank onto the edge of his bed, stricken by the elderly wizard’s words. “We both know she is stubborn, but in this case, this attribute could cause her harm. I’m afraid that she seems to be shutting out all of her normal fears and turning inward with an almost manic edge. Now is the time when her true friends must support and sustain her.”

Dumbledore finished speaking, and turned slowly to watch the younger man.

“I know, sir,” Harry said quietly as he gazed down at his hands, clasped loosely at his knees.

Light limned Dumbledore’s figure as he came forward to place his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Silence filled the room for an endless moment, then Dumbledore made a slight gesture and the lock on the door snibbed [0] with a loud click.

“Let us begin, Harry.”

9. Locked up

Author-Note:

I would like to thank DadofHermyGinny for his betaing this chapter. Now I know it had been a long time I did update and well I can’t tell you when I’ll update again. I’m really sorry there that this story need so much time. Four months are a long time but don’t think I haven’t written anything because I have like you see this chapter and another one. Currently I’m working on chapter nine right now. Anyway I thank you for reading this.

Phoenixwriter

Chapter 7: Locked up

No matter how often Harry had done this before, it continued to be unbelievably hard for him to empty his mind of all worry. Pictures of his past, and of his loss, haunted him once again as he rested on his knees, panting heavily, and tried to get his strength back. By now, his forehead was covered in a faint film of sweat.

Harry could taste salt on his lips as he stood up from the floor with difficulty. Not far away from him
stood Dumbledore, watching him intensely, as if to find an answer - as if to figure out if Harry already
had this power. As Harry lifted his wand once more, he could see that it shook slightly.

"Enough for today, Harry. We will practice further tomorrow. Remember to empty your mind before you go to sleep. Voldemort now knows that he can reach you if your mind isn't guarded well enough. Occlumency is the only magic that will keep your mind and your feelings safe. For your own sake, you must master Occlumency as soon as possible." Dumbledore looked deeply into Harry's eyes.

Harry nodded slightly. This was what Snape had told him just a few months ago.

"The last few weeks I didn't dream much." He cleared his throat as he tried to remember how this week's dreams had been. "Except for the night the Grangers were attacked." Before he knew it, he told Dumbledore about the dream.

It was still so very clear in his mind - he could still hear the screams of agony. As Harry ended his
story, the old wizard seemed to be in deep thought about something that Harry couldn't quite understand.

"It couldn't - it couldn't be that Voldemort wanted me to see this, could it? I mean, in this dream about Sirius he was there, too. He was always there in some way." Unbeknownst to Harry, his voice quivered slightly as the reason behind the dream became more and more clear.

"Voldemort wanted you to see his Death Eaters torture and kill the Grangers, but something prevented it," Dumbledore explained. "Something happened this time so that the plan failed. This would explain why his Death Eaters didn't perform the killing curse. As you woke up, the connection between you and Voldemort was lost. That is probably the only reason why the Grangers aren't dead now", Dumbledore explained, with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

As he heard this, Harry felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Now he knew that only he was truly to blame. If only he had practiced Occlumency. If he had mastered it months ago, the Grangers would never have been attacked in the first place. He felt so foolish and stupid for letting this happen.

"Voldemort's main goal will be to become powerful again", continued Dumbledore. "He will continue to gain power like never before, because he realizes that you must have a power which he does not know. I am afraid that the next months will be no easier than the past one. You are almost an adult, and therefore you must learn to duel. I certainly know that you duelled with Voldemort, but you must be even more prepared and know every trick in order to be successful in the end. Mastering Occlumency is a small step, but is the very basis of what you must learn. In our next meeting, we will discuss this matter further, and talk about who will teach you." Calmly, Dumbledore went on as though he hadn't recognized Harry's painful expression.

Harry was dimly aware of Dumbledore saying his good-byes and leaving him in his room alone. His first Occlumency lesson with the greatest wizard of the century had turned out to be one of the most unpleasant hours of his life. It just couldn't be possible that the Grangers had been attacked only because Voldemort knew he could reach Harry's mind. It didn't seem right - after all, the Order had known for almost a full year that the Dark Lord was back, and after Harry. Why hadn't there been anybody guarding the Grangers' safety? Why had nobody prevented all of this?

Harry shook his head to get rid of all these unreasonable thoughts. This had become his ritual in the past weeks since Sirius had fallen through the veil. As Harry moved slowly toward the windows, he could feel his temper rising. With an empty mind, he narrowed his eyes and stared through the glass. He could see a slight reflection of his glasses in the windows. The sky was grey and dark, although it wasn't at all late. To the contrary - lunchtime wasn't far away. On the horizon, Harry saw a brown owl flying in his direction. Just as he was about to open the windows for it, it turned slightly and landed on the windowsill outside of Ginny and Hermione's room. Nobody opened the window, and the owl sat there for several minutes.

Without a second thought, Harry opened his windows. Before long, the owl flew over to him and allowed him to unfasten the letter. On a white envelope was written the name "Hermione Granger" in deep blue ink. On the back side of the envelope was a slightly lighter blue seal with a coat of arms. Harry knew he had seen this coat of arms somewhere before, but couldn't quite place it. He turned the letter over, but could only see Hermione's name. This was quite unusual, as official letters addressed there had always indicated where the owl should deliver it - yet this only had a name.

He slowly made his way out of the room and went down the stairs to the next landing. He heard his name, and turned to see Ginny coming up the stairs.

"There you are! I was just about to call you for lunch", she said as she reached him. She saw the envelope in Harry's hands.

"What is it?", she asked, and took it out of his hands.

"Just a letter for Hermione", Harry answered with a tight throat, as he watched Ginny's face darken.

"It's from the Ministry", Ginny said. To Harry's amazement, she put the envelope in her back pocket. He stared at her for seconds before opening his mouth. "Don't you think Hermione should read it?"

She shook her head slightly as she gestured to him to follow her downstairs. "When I brought her breakfast, she told me that she wanted to be left alone. All she told me was that she needed time to think. I don't know, but I think that what happened to her parents is still bothering her greatly."

"She shouldn't be left alone", Harry whispered urgently to Ginny. She just sighed and shook her head. The gesture was starting to annoy Harry.

"Hermione locked the door after I left. I think all she needs is time to figure this out. You know how she is, Harry", Ginny said quietly as they finally entered the kitchen.

To Harry's great surprise, Mr. Weasley was sitting along with Mrs. Weasley and Ron. He gave Harry a faint smile.

"Harry, good to see you. I just came over to tell you that you might want to come along with Hermione to see Minister Fudge. He wishes to hear all about the attack firsthand." Harry sat down next to Ron, who was eating his sandwich without saying a single word.

"When are we meeting Fudge?", Harry asked.

"Tomorrow at 8:00 am, at the Ministry." Mr. Weasley looked questioningly at Harry before adding, "I thought Hermione got a letter from Fudge?"

Harry continued chewing his sandwich.

"She hasn't read her letter yet, Dad. She's spent most of the day sleeping", explained Ginny. Harry looked at her, saw her nod slightly to her mother, and understood. Mrs. Weasley had always fussed over them a great deal, but with Voldemort returning to power, her fussing had, if possible, increased.

Time passed slowly. Mrs. Weasley had insisted that they needed to clean even more rooms, and the third landing wasn't done yet. It wasn't until evening that a very tired Harry entered the room that he shared with Ron, who had been strangely quiet all day. Just as Harry started to change, the door slammed shut, and Ron was standing in the room, red-faced.

"Tell me what's going on, Harry!", Ron demanded through gritted teeth.

Harry had a sudden urge to not tell Ron what had really happened, so Ron would know how it had felt for Harry to spend all those weeks alone at Privet Drive last year without a clue.

"I don't know what you're talking about", said Harry casually as he changed into his pajamas.

"I know damn well that you know more than I do about the attack at the Grangers. What are you playing at, acting like Mom and Dad? Come on - tell me what happened that night!", Ron shouted angrily.

"Maybe you should ask your parents. They might tell you more", Harry shrugged, as he finished putting on his pyjamas. "I told you that they won't tell me anything", shouted Ron. "They're acting like I'm a bloody child. If you must know, they even forbade me to go to Hogsmeade this year!"

"Oh, I'm so very sorry for you, Ron", Harry said sardonically.

"Are you going to tell me anything?", Ron roared, as he planted himself heavily on his bed.

"No, I won't. Dumbledore made me swear I wouldn't. Good night." With this, Harry went to bed with an enormously satisfied feeling.

Harry nodded off. In a dark room, only a beam of light illuminated a person kneeling on the dirty ground. Soon, Harry realized that he was in a prison, and the person looked rather filthy, and in a bad state. She was thin and very pale, and in front of her knees was a thick book. A slight muttering was heard from the woman, which sounded very familiar to Harry.

"There has to be a counter-spell - there has to be..." She kept muttering her mantra.

Slowly and uncertainly, Harry went around the woman, who appeared to be very young. She had long, uncombed, brown, filthy hair, which made her appear even more pale under her dirty skin. A sudden noise, which sounded suspicious, and the sound of rattling breathing and chains forced the woman to slam the book shut and look up for the first time.

Her eyes had a look of pure terror, and Harry knew them so well. He was about to step closer and try to do something, but suddenly it was too late, and the scenery changed rapidly. He felt so very pleased with himself as he walked slowly down a dark corridor. At Harry's side was a man whose face he couldn't see. In the darkness, he could just hear his faint, low voice.

"Master, everything works as planned. Dumbledore doesn't suspect a thing." Harry flexed his pale, long fingers slightly in pure glee. "Indeed, this will be a great day", he said in a cruel voice.

Someone shook him roughly. "Wake up, Harry", a low voice said.

He stirred abruptly and looked around, but only saw Mrs. Weasley standing by his bed. A few strains of daylight came through the windows as Mrs. Weasley turned away and left the room.

Twenty minutes later, Harry left Ron and his snores alone and hurried down the stairs, for once finding the kitchen rather full. Mr. Weasley was absently eating a sandwich behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. Lupin was in a deep discussion with Bill and Mad-Eye Moody.

Mrs. Weasley was busy trying to assure Tonks that she didn't need her help making breakfast. Sitting all alone, with a firm, pale face, and in dark blue clothes, was Hermione. She was absently picking at her plate, which was untouched. It looked as though she was someplace far away with her thoughts. Her hair was tied together in a knot that made her look older than she was.

The expression and paleness of her face reminded Harry very much of their third year at Hogwarts. But this time it was different - it was caused by true illness and deep worry for her parents, rather than simply studying too much.

"Ah, Harry dear, sit down and eat! We're in a bit of a hurry right now because the Portkey will be active in a few minutes." Mrs. Weasley bustled him over to a free place and set a plate of sausages and eggs in front of him. Slightly distracted, he sat down and looked across to Hermione, who hadn't even recognized him yet.

"Um, well, why a Portkey? Last year, we went to the Ministry like Muggles", he asked, as he started to eat. Unlike last year, he was a bit more hungry.

"Because it's too dangerous! No guard can guarantee our safety if Voldemort is lurking and waiting out there", Hermione snapped impatiently, as Mrs. Weasley winced slightly at the name.

Unsure, Harry looked up, and found Hermione staring right back at him. It was not at all a pleasant morning. The atmosphere was tense, and Hermione's mood was anything but friendly, though silently, he understood why. Fudge was not the sort of person Harry wished to see again, and was most likely not a person to whom he'd wish to tell what Hermione had to tell.

The Portkey was a usual one - this time, a wooden stick which Mad-Eye had used. They arrived directly in the hall of the Ministry, where the lifts were to be found. Nothing had changed since the last time Harry had been there. Just a few weeks ago, and a few meters away, Sirius had fallen through the veil.

If Harry closed his eyes or just allowed himself to think about it, he heard and saw everything like an old dream replaying in his mind. As they stepped into the lift, he wondered absently if they hadn't been controlled.

"Goodness, didn't you know? Since the Ministry has finally admitted that You-Know-Who is back, you can only arrive as a visitor via official Ministry portkeys, and only if Aurors are guarding you. They even took care of the phone-box after the attack at St. Mungo's", Tonks said as the lift started to move.

Today, Tonks had short blue hair, which was the only thing that slightly lightened the mood. As Harry looked around and caught Hermione's eyes, he knew her thoughts were on the same day as his own. To his amazement, her eyes showed sympathy for him, and a sadness for the loss this place caused him. Each time the lift stopped, memos zoomed in and out. It wasn't long until the doors opened, and they saw Percy Weasley standing there, surrounded by Aurors.

He didn't look at Mr. Weasley or Harry, but looked at Hermione. It was a bit bizarre, as he acted as if nothing had happened.

Harry left the lift with Mr. Weasley at last, and with narrowed eyes followed Percy and the rest of his large group. To his satisfaction, he saw Hermione listening to Percy's encouraging talking with a deep frown, but this didn't seem to bother Percy much. Suddenly, Harry didn't know if he could hold back his temper if he met Fudge again - someone who had called him a liar and had made his life a hell, even at Hogwarts. Though feeling that something might go horribly wrong, and he might end up shouting at Fudge - Harry didn't feel that this was wrong at all. He might finally get what he wanted: answers.

10. Memory’s hurt

A/N: Imagine my surprise when I found in a forgotten corner of my drawer this thought lost chapters of this story. Of course it isn't yet betaed, currently I'm searching for someone who is willing enough to lean a hand. Yet I wanted to upload this to let you know I still haven't forgotten and there are at least two more chapters and a complete outline of the story which I intend to upload in time as well..

~ Phoenixwriter

Chapter 8: Memory's hurt

A low shine of light found its way through the windows which showed this time just a forget me not blue and a brightly shining sun. Slightly this light touched Hermione's pale face, illuminate her brown eye's which appeared tired, their all so well known fire was no longer to be found.

Minister Fudge talked a moment with Percy before he turned to his visitors. A silly smile appeared on his face as he saw Hermione. It didn't last long before he wrenched her hand and told her how pleased it was to meet her finally. All this time Harry watched with narrowed eye's how Fudge acted, what he said. Harry doubted Fudge would believe a single word though Voldemort was official back. At this moment his eyes met Harry's every sign of a smile froze to a forced grimace.

Silently Harry asked himself if it was possible to be already annoyed by a simple face without to have any conversation yet.

“Harry, nice to meet you, I think Miss Granger should start with what happened at this night.” Without a second glance Fudge sat down on an armchair behind an enormous table.

Few more chairs were conjured and Harry, Hermione, Mr Weasley and Percy sat down too. Lupin, Tonks and Mad Eye Moody rather chose to stand guard.

“Where should I begin?” Harry heard Hermione murmuring as her eyes darted nervously from one person to another.

“I wonder, Mr Fudge, why does Hermione need to explain anything? Aren't all facts already there? Don't you know already what happened? Don't you already know that Voldemort's Death Eaters did attack her home, tortured her parents?” Harry hissed angrily as he saw visible Hermione, how she struggled to remember this terrible night.

“We need to know if any use of magic was indeed needed!” Fudge answered calmly though Mr Weasley looked firmly to Harry.

“As you might be aware of our law by now, Harry, underage wizards aren't allowed to use any kind of magic especially not in front of muggle's!” Fudge explained further.

Loudly Harry could hear how his blood was rushing through his veins.

“She had to protect her parents if she hadn't they were by now dead. At first you deny a whole year Voldemorts return now you dare and deny that there was any need to use magic against Death Eaters? What are you thinking that those guys just wanted a nice cup of tea from the Granger? How foolish you need to be to believe in such nonsense?” Harry shouted standing on his feet's.

A cool hand tugging on his arm brought him back to earth and his attention to a pair of brown sad eyes.

“Harry, please!” Hermione pleaded with a low voice.

On his shoulder he felt a strong hand which dragged him out of the room. The last thing he saw before the door closed were Fudge furious face and Hermione's defeated look.

“What the hell were you thinking, Harry? Have you any idea what you have just done?” Remus rounded angrily at him.

“He deserved it, how dare he to questioning Hermione's motives?” Harry shoots right back.

“If you think you helped her, I may inform you how wrong you are, Harry! You should be in this room and be there for her, be a friend -“

“I'm her friend -“

“A friend, really? Then tell me what did you in there, was this your support for her or just your selfish thinking of pay back to Fudge what he had done to you last year?“ Remus asked dangerously.

Harry didn't answer to this just stared with his remaining anger into his eyes.

“Do you realise what you did with this? Hermione needed your support but now she is all alone in there facing Fudge and all his questions about this night. But no despite what happened she has to be again by her own. I don't understand you, I just don't understand you, is she so unimportant to you? She is about to lose her parents and can't even count on her friends if she needs them now more than ever!”

“You're wrong she can count at us, at me. We're there for her as long she needs us. It's only a matter of time till her parents are fine again.”

“I wouldn't be that sure there. You haven't seen them, did you? The Grangers are far, far away to be healthy again. They are between dead and life; no one knows how long the Healers can stop the effect of this curse. It is very possible that every counter curse might come too late for them and Hermione knows this, Harry. She knows it since the healer stopped this curse.” Remus shook his head slightly at this.

Before Harry could say anything the door opened again Mr Weasley, Tonks and Moody left the room too. They were staring at him as if he was the reason that they left Fudge's office too.

“Did you calm down or are you going to start it all over again?” Tonks hissed in an unusual serious voice.

“You wonder why we aren't in there, aren't you Potter?” Moody ignored her remark.

Slowly Harry nodded by this.

“Well, Granger made us leave. She said she didn't need us in there after all we are your guardian, Potter. “Moody growled with his normal brown eye fixed at him while his magical one was probably looking through Fudge's Office-Door.

“I would have never thought that I did find myself disliking to see Fudge in such a position but in this case you really proofed me wrong, Harry. Indeed you proofed me wrong.” Tonks whispered before she fell in silent again.

Dazzled Harry waited till the door would open once more and Hermione would emerging just to assure he hadn't made it worst. But the door didn't open that soon, she didn't came by to take away his guilt.

He had been so sure that everything would be soon all right again; that in no time his best friend would be again the all so studious, all so bright person again. Slowly he understood Hermione would be never the same as before this attack.

An unknown sadness filled his heart by this thought. He couldn't bear it to see her that sad again, that quiet. Just as he was about to turn away from the door it opened and to his and to his company's surprise Hermione was smiling as she said her farewell to Fudge and Percy.

It didn't seem right and most certainly didn't felt right; it was out of place even though it made his heart lighter. Harry had felt guilty that he had caused so many troubles just because he couldn't keep his emotions in check but it just had felt right to stop Fudge. This man hadn't any rights to questioning Harry's friends not if they just barely survived an attack by Death Eaters.

Just now Hermione finally reached them and appeared to be fully herself again as if never an attack had happened. It was uncanny and Harry could sense it as he looked to the members of the Order of the Phoenix that they felt the same. Each one of them had a disbelieving look as Hermione explained that everything was said and they could travel back.

Day's gone by without being really noticed. Harry was busy with his lessons of Occlumency. It wasn't anymore just practicing it but learning what it did exactly to one's mind. Sometimes Dumbledore kept just teaching him the theory in vain to bring Harry to learn Occlumency faster if he knew what happened if someone tried to read his mind.

Soon Hermione turned to her studious self back as fast as possible they came back from the Ministry. Hermione insisted she needed to do her homework. Something she hadn't even started with due the attack. No one was allowed to disturb her not even Ginny who shared with Hermione a room wasn't allowed to be through the day in the room. Frankly she never got an opportunity to be let in the room at least not before 10 pm.

Mrs Weasley was everything but happy with the idea that her youngest daughter was after 10 pm still up but not even she could enter the room without to break the door. It didn't help that Mr Weasley told his wife not to force Hermione out that she probably needed to study, needed to have her mind off from worries.

But no news off any change in state of the Granger's finds its way to Hermione, not once in all this time. Everyday work let Harry bear to be back at Grimmauld Place. It helped that each day was planned out what he ought to do. Before noon Dumbledore would come by and teach Occlumency till lunch time, after some sandwiches Harry would find himself together with Ron, Ginny and Mrs Weasley decorating room after room new of this old house till it was time for dinner after this Harry turned back to his room to do his homework which was a lot more than the years before.
Sometimes it felt like Hermione wasn't even with them at Grimmauld Place, if she wasn't in her room, she was at St.Mungos by her parents. She refused to come even down for breakfast, lunch or dinner. In turn they brought a tray with food in front of the door.

Even Ron was over the worry for their friend at least willing to let his anger go, instead he could be found to mutter once in a while to Harry, why nobody stopped Hermione's attempt to isolate herself. Harry must admit that Ron had a point but didn't know what they could do anyway. He knew if Hermione was like that there was no chance to get her out of it.

It was several days later as Harry was roughly shaken awake at first he didn't know why Ron was standing there with the silliest smile on his face he had ever seen. But as he saw at his clock Harry knew it was his birthday. For the first time ever he would share this day in company of people which meant so much to him.

“Come on, mate, it's time to stand up. Mum is eager to congratulate you to your 16th birthday.” Ron called before he turned to the door and was about to leave.

“I'll be there, just wait a minute!” Harry groaned slightly because it was rather early.

“You haven't yet been at a Weasley birthday party, have you?” With this Ron left.

Silently Harry doubted that he could enjoy this day at all not in this house, not with all this thoughts haunting him. Maybe if he tried to forget everything just for today then he could enjoy himself.
Turning 16 years old meant that Harry was soon allowed to learn how to apparate so he would get his license. Only one year was left till he became official an adult.

He throws the blanket from his still tired body. Far away was he from being fully awake as he got into the Bathroom and prepared himself for this day. It didn't felt like a birthday rather like a normal day. For a long time he didn't want to celebrate anything really.

It was like a different life when he had lain on a floor and counted till his 11th birthday was about to happen, just to be ignored again by the Dursleys. Now a day's Harry did no longer watch a clock and knew he got older any second, that a special day was about to start. No, now he did wish he were not special, he had not this scar.

His desire remained in all those years the same just to get a family, something he knew would never happen. In a bad temper Harry got dressed and made himself go down the stairs. In his mind he could already paint out how it might be, how the Weasleys and his friends tried to make this day special to him though he did not want this anymore.

People, every kind of them did look at him as if he was the savior of their world, as if they did expect from him to save this world though he wasn't even able cast a shrinking spell properly.

Nor was he able with his by now sixteen years to figure out if someone was just lure him into a trap. Deeply he sighed as he realised his thoughts were still turning in circles without any point what could help him out of this misery. He had become tired to blame himself though he couldn't help it.

Not if he was imprisoned in this house full of memories of a long lost carefree life. As he reached the kitchen he forced himself to clear his mind from those thoughts. On his face appeared an unnatural smile before he opened the door.

A dark and silent kitchen greeted him. Surprised he tried to get his eyes used to this change but before he could an unfamiliar sound reached his ears. People were singing in a hushed and low way that he didn't realise what they were singing about.

From the other side of the room a tiny light was slowly flickering on, then another, more and more lights were illuminated till a bright number was to be read. Sixteen. Mouth hanging open Harry was waiting what would happen next as the singing grew even more loudly.

It was by no means the most pleasant sound he ever had heard but still it was brilliant. Voices were singing brightly “Happy Birthday” in a rather uneven way but still it made him so full of happiness which he hadn't thought he still could feel. Several loud cracks disturbed his sentimental thoughts and six people apparated in front of him.

At least five had flaming red hairs and to Harry's amazement Ron was one of them. His best friend was just smiling back at him as Mrs Weasley hugged Harry tightly and wished him a very happy birthday. After her followed George and Fred where each of them clapped him on his back and announced that he is now just 12 months away to become a real man. Mrs Weasley scowled by this for some odd reason.

Mr Weasley gave Harry a fatherly hug.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.” He said in a bright warm voice.

It felt like having a real family, like celebrating this day once for real and not in the shadows of the smallest room in Privet Drive Number 4 eating cakes all alone. No, this time he'd get for once a cake he could happily share with the Weasley's and his friends.

Harry's bad mood was no more existence as Ron reached him and gave him his first present. Only Remus was watching, waiting probably till it was his time to shake his hand.
Behind the now laughing and cheering crowd Ginny stepped into the kitchen holding her own present under her arm.

If you never celebrated a birthday in your whole life you'll happy about the most normal things like a cake, like blowing out candles and keeping the wish in your mind. Despite they must clean a few rooms there was a lot fun for Harry.

In years which would come by he did certainly remember this day but not without recognising that even at his birthday Hermione did not leave her room. If it was quiet and the evening got closer and closer the lack of his other best friend and his worry became stronger and stronger.

The Weasley's, Tonks and Remus did their best to give Harry an unforgettable birthday. But nothing could eliminate these thoughts completely from his mind. He didn't voice it because it wouldn't change anything.

Around evening Mrs Weasley did prepare Hermione's tray and was about to bring it up to her room.

“You don't mind if I bring it up, Mrs Weasley?”

“Of course not, my dear.” She said taken a back but didn't argue about it.

Harry took the tray and made his way out of the kitchen and through the dark entrance hall. Over Mrs Black portrait hung the curtain's this impression was mirrored by all other portraits. It was an uncanny atmosphere in this building which used to creep up Harry's back as soon as he was alone.

As Harry climbed the stairs up the old wood did creak under his weight, as he reached the first landing a surprising sight stopped his journey abruptly. In the corridor was Hermione standing and holding something wrapped like a present in her hands. After all this days he did recognise imitable that she didn't look any better rather worst.

Her frame appeared thinner but maybe it was just the darkness which let her appear so breakable. Intensely they stared at each other before Hermione pointed at the tray and was about to ask.

“Is that for me?” barely Harry could hear her question.

“Yeah, it isn't much just a piece of the cake, pumpkin juice and a few chocolate frog's. I thought they might cheer you a little bit up.” He explained looking by doing so down on the tray.

“Can you set it down for a moment?” She asked him.

Puzzled he did what she asked for.

“What now?” He wondered as he turned to her again.

A slight smile displayed on her lips.

“Now? Now it's time for presents.” Brightly she stepped closer and lay a rather heavy and big present into his hands.

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” Hermione whispered and kissed him on his cheek.

“Thank you. What is it, it's not a book, is it?” Harry grinned at her as he weighted her present.

“Certainly not, Harry. But you might want open it if you are alone.” She answered at first incredulous at his supposition but ended with a warm, real smile.

Before he could ask her anything about what she was doing all days in her room she picked up the tray and left him alone in the corridor. Astonish Harry felt the present in his hands it was for sure a book nothing else could be that solid and heavy.

Silently he wondered why he should enwrap it if he were alone. On his heels he turned around and went upstairs till the second landing.

A soundless click told the door was closed behind him. The two four-poster beds were through the upcoming darkness unwelcoming and not at all inviting. Now that Harry was alone he wished Hermione had allowed him to ask her what she was doing but not only this he longed her reasoning, her companionship.

She was at Grimmauld place but yet not with him. Finally Harry looked back on this present which Hermione had given him only a few minutes before. With clumsy fingers he started to enwrap it and like he guessed before it was indeed a book in leather. There was no title to be read. It felt soft under his fingers almost as if it were an exquisite book something he didn't doubt.

Harry opened it and was surprised at what he found. It was indeed not a book, at least not a simple one. Instead of reading in Hermione's clean handwriting an explanation he found words from a man he thought he would never read again.

Dear Harry,
Turning sixteen was to me an important event in my life because I was finally allowed to learn to apparate and started to ride my motorcycle freely. Shortly after you flooed Remus and me I had this idea to put together a photo-album. I know you own already a little one but this here will be different. You'll recognise that this picture do display the scene much more exactly because they are charmed so you can hear the conservation's at will in case I'm not able to tell you all the stories behind this pictures. Your friend Hermione helped me with those pictures from your first four school years at Hogwarts. Of course I asked Ron too for help and he gave me his share of pictures too.
While working on this album I realised how much I missed about your life I hope this will change and we can make up the time.

The writing changed at this point and was now Hermione's writing.

It was at Christmas when Sirius told me about this idea of his so he had this idea a long before you talked with him. He managed to smuggle it due eastern in one of those packets send by the Weasleys. Of course Umbridge hadn't any idea about it because it was addressed to me. All pictures regarding your parents and Sirius were already inserted so all I did was to charm those few pictures of us. To let them speak all you have to do is to point your wand on one of them and say “Vox”.
Happy Birthday, Harry.
Love from
Hermione

Slowly Harry gulped this wasn't what he had expected not at all. A few weeks before he believed everything Sirius ever gave him was gone expect his Firebolt. But here in his hands was the true last present, something what won't disappear just like that.

-->

11. Losing control

Chapter 9: Losing control

Something was poking him. It felt like sharp talon's which bore into his skin but Harry was far too sleepy to wake up now. Being sixteen didn't mean to stand up every day that early just to clean again a few more rooms. He was sick to say it the best to do this. Since at least two if not three weeks his daily routine hadn't changed what did it matter if he once stood up later.

But to his annoyance this poking didn't want to stop, in fact it did increase. At one point or another it was becoming painfully. Tired and not really willing to do so Harry opened his eyes slowly. Nearly he fell out of his bed by this sight. An angry looking brown Owl with a few white spots was sitting on his chest. If Owl's could glare this one certainly did so. A thick letter was attached to it feet which Harry started to unfasten. As soon as it was off the Owl flow away without a second glance at the sleepy Teenager.

He couldn't believe that he had sleep at all so tired he felt. Slowly he looked around and found he was alone in their room. Ron of all people was already awake and probably eating breakfast. Yes, Ron his other best friend he thought. Harry knew he was angry with him and at some points Harry could understand it even though he didn't want to tell Ron anything. It had been a promise to Dumbledore to respect Mr and Mrs Weasley's decision.

And this Harry understood too who wanted to see their children's in the middle of a war? Who wanted to see them harmed or worst killed? Nobody. He sighed and stood up from his four-poster bed this letter he would open later. For an odd reason he wasn't that enthusiastic to read finally the OWL results.

Full dressed and ready for the day Harry went upstairs with nothing particularly in mind as he heard a loud screaming and it wasn't Mrs Black's insults but a very angry Ron. Though the corridor was dark Harry could see how Ron's face was red as he went on with hammering against a very solid looking door.

“Open the damn door, Hermione!” He yelled while slamming his fist against the dark wood.

Petrified Harry hold still in track and watched the scenery. It was the first landing and just like Harry a few days before was Ron standing there with a letter clenched in his free hand.

There was no response to Ron's request something what seems to make him even angrier. Maybe it was the past days and the fact things were hold in secrets from him that he acted like that. Louder, and harder he hammered against the door that Harry could hear the wood creak softly under the pressure.

“It's enough; you're since weeks in there. Stop this ridiculous behaviour and open the damn door so you can take your Hogwarts letter like a normal person.” Furiously he suddenly slammed his shoulder against the wood which gave loudly in.

“Ron! What the -“

“We aren't allowed to do magic, Hermione!”

“Let me go. Don't you dare -“

SMACK

As soon as Ron was in the room he was thrown out again. He was lying at the swell of the door on his back as Harry rushed to his side. A thin red line emerged from his mouth while glaring at Hermione. Astounded Harry followed Ron's look and saw for the first time the room.

It has been a long time since Harry felt like this reminded at a dark wizard house but one view in this room, fogy through the different cauldron's which held different kinds of potion's and this many books spread on the floor did remind Harry so very well on this time. The cauldrons were black because of the several times of use. Still blue flames were licking at the bottom of the metal.

The room was dark just a few lines of light showed Harry what mess it was. But Hermione didn't look better. Several days back she had been looked unhealthy but by now it was like she was downright ill. Her skin was pale, in a kind of white that told one she didn't eat much, didn't saw the sun for at least three weeks. Her clothes were baggy and didn't anymore fit on her. But this all wasn't that frightening not as much as her eyes which were now dull and slightly sunken in.

One wouldn't believe she were the same person Harry had seen at Privet Drive. A few days ago he had seen her just in the darkness of the corridors but now at daylight and even if it were just a few streams it was clear that things had gone too far. Her eyes were focused at Ron, threatening him. The wand in her hand was pointed straight at his chest. Ron kept looking from Harry to Hermione before he tried to get away from her.

Slowly he backed away but what he hadn't expected from Hermione that she stepped closer and ended the small gap between them. With an unusual terror in Ron's eyes he seemed to beg Harry to do anything about this situation yet Harry was far to surprised by everything what had occurred just a few minutes ago.

Hard he tried to understand what all these things in the girl's room did and overall what Hermione all the time had done alone in this room. Harry made finally to Ron's great relief a move to get closer to Hermione and to put her wand down. But she had nothing of it.

“You won't stop me, you both won't stop me to find It.” She hissed.

“What are you talking about? Harry, just take already her wand away, damn it. Don't you see she is mad?” Ron yelled while pointing at her with a shaking finger.

Barely recognisable a creaking noise told that all this hadn't went by unnoticed. Fast Harry looked from one to the other and than finally to the shadowy stairs at the end of this corridor.

“From what are we stopping you, Hermione?” He turned his attention back at her.

In his tone was no sign of his nervousness nor of any anger despite of himself he was strangely calm.

Slowly Hermione blinked before she answered in a whisper. “That I find a counter curse. Somewhere there must be a curse, potion what can cure them…”

She was still speaking as Harry closed the distance and finally reached her. By her own doing her wand wasn't anymore that threatening at Ron pointed but still Harry decided to get hold of it. Before he could take it out of her hands she let finally completely go of the wood. Briefly before Harry turned his attention to Ron he watched Hermione who had an expression of shock and disbelief written on her face.

“Are you all right, Ron?” Harry asked but Ron was already standing up.

Instead of an expected angry answer he said just nothing but starred obviously loss at words at the remaining door and touched absently his still bleeding lips.

“What is here going on? Does anyone care to explain me this?” A very angry Ginny stood near the stairs and was moving with big steps at them all the while pointing at the violated door.

Now in the small light what emerged from their room Harry could see that her face was just as red as her hair and a very determined look at it to discover what had occurred here while she wasn't there?

Yet a loud and painful sob interrupted Ginny's tantrum. Almost directly her expression changed into a softer one and every anger was gone as her eyes focused at Hermione who hold her face in her hands. Her shoulders, her whole body shook heavily under her sob.

“Hermione, what's the matter?” Ginny tried to reach for her but Hermione turned her back at her.

Slightly she swayed as she pressed one hand against the doorframe. All three starred at her with shock and helplessly. A few times Hermione seemed to try to suppress her desperate sounds before it did even increase and she completely broke down. Limp, and to weak to carry her body any longer her legs gave in.

Openly she was crying while on her knees. Ron was the first one to wake up from the shook and turned around on his heels.

“Ron!” exclaimed Ginny but he just shook his head and went for the stairs.

At first Harry didn't know what to do but tentatively he reached out for one of Hermione's shoulders but she didn't seem to recognise this touch.
Soon, maybe too soon Harry was on his own knees trying to reach, to calm her down but every word of comfort left his mind as he saw her face.

Agony, great pain was written all over it. Her eyes closed in attempt to keep the tears at bay but thick water drops framed her pale face.

“I - I don't want them to die.” She whispered with trembling lips.

With a great effort she opened her eyes and starred directly at Harry, who didn't know anymore what he could possible do.

“They can't die!” Her voice became louder and aggressive.

“Harry, they just can't die.” His ears ringed with her louder becoming mantra till all of sudden he was hard hit against his chest.

Another blow hit his chest before he realised that Hermione was hitting him and all the while saying that her parents couldn't die. Determined he got hold of her wrists and gathered her against her resisting in a tight embrace. After a while she gave in and only her quite muffled sobbing was too heard.

This was the only thing he could think of just holding her but not even this seemed to stop her crying.

“Hermione, dear.” Mrs Weasley said soothingly.

She saw sympatric at Hermione before she got hold of one of her hands which lay weakly against Harry's chest. But Hermione didn't react.

“Come on, help me Harry. She needs rest.” Now suddenly addressed let Harry realise that Hermione was completely leaning against him.

Carefully he laid one arm around her waist and started to stand up with help of Mrs Weasley. Hermione made no signs to hold herself on her own legs. Silently Harry admired that Neville had just a few months ago carried Hermione all alone. Together with Mrs Weasley's he brought Hermione back into her room pass all those books and pass the different cauldrons on one of the four-poster beds.

“I'm back in a minute.” Mrs Weasley said in a hushed tone.
“Ginny would you be so kind and tidy up here?” she added before she left them alone.

By side Ginny stood Ron who looked positively miserable about the whole situation. His lip wasn't anymore bleeding but still swollen though Harry suspected Mrs Weasley used a healing charm.

The atmosphere changed slowly into a tense mood. Nobody liked to say anything only a few suppressed sobs were to hear here and then.

“I'm sorry, Hermione. I - I didn't mean to -. “ Ron was interrupted by his mother who carried a vial in her hand and urged Hermione to sit up a little bit so she could drink it.

“Now that's the good girl. Sleep now, get some rest I look later after you.” She said as she covered Hermione with a blanket with a last sniff she slept in.

Astounded Harry looked at Mrs Weasley questioningly.

“Just a Sleeping Draught potion, Merlin knows she needs this. Now get out of here she needs to rest and I like to know what exactly happened. I probably need to inform Dumbledore about this though it might be just a natural reaction.”

“A natural reaction?” Ron exclaimed but Mrs Weasley hushed him.

“Not here.” She answered curtly and made them leave in the corridor.

With a few wand waves the door was repaired and closed. All the way down the stairs Harry could hear her muttering. Ginny and Ron remained however silent so very much touched by what had happened.

It was just luck that the order had been away Harry didn't like the idea that else all of them had seen it, seen what he saw. Unaware of his doing he sat down on a free chair not recognising that Mrs Weasley was busily making tea.
Absently he rubbed his chest, now that he was able to think again it started to stung quite well. He would have in the morning some bruises but this didn't bother him much.

His mind, his worries were somewhere else by his best friend who was no longer able to find a solution to a problem, something that seemed to destroy her.

“Dear, she is going to be all right now. Don't worry, everything will be fine.” Mrs Weasley assured him with a slight smile but she hadn't seen Hermione's eyes.

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