Author's Note: Talk about quick updates. This is why I love summer vacation! Anyway, in my haste to update last time, I completely forgot to give credit to the real person behind the Flatulent Fudge-my dad. Tells you what kind of humor he has, doesn't it? But it was one of the funniest conversations I've ever had with him. Many thanks to Nitya for being my beta and sorry about the constant teasing!
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
BLOODLINE
Dumbledore would not return for several weeks. In the meantime, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had kept checking for updates in the Daily Prophet as the wizarding world reeled over Cornelius Fudge's death.
Everyone in the school had been shocked, most of all Percy. When he found out, he slumped over his breakfast with his head in his hands. The staff all had reactions of varying levels, most of which were bleak. The Aurors, meanwhile, also had three very different reactions. Kingsley, after reading the article in the Prophet, had a grim look of determination on his face. Crow looked extremely shocked, and Harry had overheard him telling Kingsley one morning that he never would have expected You-Know-Who to kill someone so high up in the Ministry. Frost, however, looked nonplused at the whole situation. Harry noticed that the day that Fudge's death was announced, she merely raised an eyebrow at the Prophet, took a sip of her orange juice, and went back to breakfast.
While most of the people in Hogwarts had not liked Fudge in the slightest, they at least were respectful enough not to slander him, at least, not in public. The only one to do so was Draco Malfoy, who openly joked about Fudge's demise one morning before Potions.
"The oaf had it coming to him," Malfoy sneered. "He was pathetic and needed to be disposed of. The Prophet says the vampires in the Dark Lord's employment offed him. Could you imagine the look on his face when they bit in?" He distorted his face grotesquely and several of the Slytherins laughed.
"You're disgusting," Hermione spat from next to Harry.
Malfoy's features contorted in rage. "Did you say something, Mudblood? Maybe those vampires will come after you. I doubt it though-your blood is far too dirty for even their tastes!"
Harry whipped out his wand. "Shut up, Malfoy."
Malfoy stared at Harry's wand vaguely. "Or what, Potter? What are you going to do to me?"
"Hex you into the next millennium, that's what," Harry growled.
Hermione tugged on his arm. "Harry-don't!"
"He's old enough to make his own decisions, Mudblood," Malfoy said harshly, his eyes narrowing as Harry raised the wand tip to his throat. "Come on then, Potter. Hex me."
Harry nearly had half the curse out of his mouth when a stern voice uttered, "What's going on here?" Professor Snape had arrived.
"Potter, sir," said a rat-faced boy Harry knew to be Theodore Nott. "He threatened Malfoy for no reason."
"He was defending me, sir," Hermione said crossly. "Malfoy insulted me."
"Silence, Miss Granger!" Snape snapped and stared malevolently at Harry. "Lower your wand, Mr. Potter."
Harry glared at Malfoy for a moment longer before grudgingly lowering his wand.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor and a detention for Potter," Snape spat. "Now get inside."
*****
"Why that smarmy git," Ron spat later.
"Who? Malfoy or Snape?" Harry asked.
"Both," Ron muttered. They were standing out in the courtyard between classes. The sun was shining brightly and the temperatures were slowly starting to rise. "And I still can't believe Ravenclaw lost!"
"You're still on about that?" Hermione asked, an annoyed expression on her face. The 330 to 120 result from the match had Ron groaning every time he thought about Quidditch, which was frequently.
"Ron, didn't you predict it to happen?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, but I was hoping it wouldn't!"
"Nothing you can do about it, is there?" Hermione muttered.
"So when is your detention?" Ron asked Harry.
"Tomorrow after dinner," Harry replied. "He had this really malicious grin on his face when he told me."
Ron gave him a pitying look. "You're dead, mate. Either that, or you're going to smell really bad when you come back to the common room."
"I can hardly wait," he muttered sarcastically and checked his watch. "Come on, class begins in fifteen minutes."
"I've got to go run and get my book first," Ron said.
"Why didn't you get it before you came down here?" Hermione asked.
"Because I didn't feel like walking back to the dormitory yet," Ron replied, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. "I'll catch up to you two in class."
Hermione shook her head as she and Harry headed off towards the greenhouses. "He'll never make it to Herbology on time," she murmured.
"He could if he runs really, really fast," Harry said with a grin.
She shook her head again before glancing at him. "By the way," she said quietly, "thanks for sticking up for me before Potions. I'm sorry about the detention."
"It's not your fault I got the detention. I should have just punched Malfoy," Harry spat and held a door open for her. "He makes me so mad, especially when he calls you such a horrible name."
Hermione looked rather bemused. "And who said chivalry is dead?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Me? Chivalrous?"
"Certainly," she replied. "You're quite the noble guy, always helping the damsel in distress." She smirked.
Harry laughed. "You're no damsel, that's for sure. You can give as good as you get, as I'm sure Malfoy remembers from third year."
"I was peeved that day," she said simply.
He laughed again. "Now that's the understatement of the century."
She rolled her eyes once again as he held open the door to the greenhouse for her. "Thanks, Harry," she murmured with a grin. "You're a knight in shining armor."
"I try," he replied, grinning too as they joined their class.
*****
Later on that evening, Harry and Hermione sat in the library, Hermione helping Harry on his essay on properly growing a plant Harry remembered quite well from his fourth year, gillyweed.
"So once the gillyweed has sprouted, switch from dragon to mooncalf fertilizer?" Harry asked, sitting beside her and trying to reread the paragraph Hermione had pointed out to him.
Hermione nodded. "So which type of water must the gillyweed grow in?" she asked him, an expectant look on her face.
"Er…" He thought back. "Saltwater."
"Very good," she said happily. "It sounds like you have it."
He let out a small laugh. "I appreciate the help."
"Oh, you're welcome."
"Do you know whom all this talk about gillyweed reminds me of?" Harry asked, a small grin on his face. "Dobby."
"You know, with Fudge's death and the new Minister of Magic to be decided so soon, I thought it might be a good idea to perhaps start seriously campaigning those petitions I came up with, and you did promise to speak to Dobby and the rest of the house-elves with me…"
Harry had already started packing his things away. "A trip to the kitchens sounds good. We can pick up something for Ron while we're down there."
"Harry!" she scolded. "We're going down there to convince the house-elves that they deserve equal rights and wages, not to make them work for Ron's stomach."
He couldn't help but grin. "Okay, okay, it was just an idea." They headed out of the library. "How do you plan on convincing the house-elves to take wages?" he asked her.
"I don't know. It's going to be tough. Maybe if I told them that Dumbledore wanted them to take wages…"
"Hermione, that's manipulation," Harry pointed out.
She sighed. "Yes, you're right. But they've got to understand that they have rights! They do not need to live under the oppression of wizards."
"Well, you've got to admit, they've got it a lot better here than they do anywhere else. Dumbledore is very kind to them."
"Yes, but what about their fellows who don't have it so well? Look at the environments Dobby and Winky came from. They were treated like scum!"
"Some of them like it better that way…like Kreacher," he added darkly.
"They don't know any better," Hermione said distractedly and then stopped dead, realizing what Harry had said. "Oh, Harry…"
He shook his head. "No, it's alright. I'm fine. Let's keep moving."
They continued on, but Hermione remained silent for the rest of the trip down to the kitchens. When they reached the painting with the pear, she tickled it and waited for it to turn into a doorknob before walking in, Harry following her.
Just then, they heard a high-pitched squeal. "Harry Potter sir!" Dobby the house-elf bounced over happily. "Dobby was just thinking of you, sir! What can Dobby do for you?"
Harry looked down at Dobby, amused by his attire. Dobby wore a large knit hat with holes for his ears, a pair of polka-dot shorts, a small smock, and two mismatched socks that went up to his hips. "Hello Dobby," Harry greeted. "Hermione and I were wondering if we could speak to all of you?"
Dobby's smile faded. "This wouldn't be abouts elf rights, wouldst it? Dobby's friends do not likes it when Harry Potter and Miss speaks about elf rights."
"It's about a petition, Dobby," Hermione said.
"For rights and wages?" Dobby asked.
"Well, yes," she replied.
He shook his head fiercely. "Dobby is sorry, Miss, but Dobby cannot-Dobby cannot makes his friends sign a petition." By this time, most of the elves had stopped what they were doing and were listening intently.
"No one is making anyone sign a petition, Dobby," Harry said gently. "You and your friends have a choice. How's Winky?"
Dobby's face brightened once again. "We haves gots her off the butterbeer, sir. She drinks no more!"
"That's wonderful," Hermione said happily, looking around. "Where is she?"
A head poked around the corner of the kitchen and an even higher pitched voice asked, "Did someone asks for Winky?"
Harry and Hermione smiled. "Hello Winky," Hermione said. "How are you?"
Winky walked over to Dobby's side nervously. "Winky is better, Miss. Winky still misses her master, but is finding Hogwarts to be a good home. Professor Dumbledore is a very kind master."
"But Winky, Professor Dumbledore isn't your master…he's your employer," Hermione said and looked around. "How many of you consider Dumbledore as your master?" At once, every single hand was raised, save for those of Dobby and Winky.
"Well, 'tis true, is it not, Miss?" Dobby asked. "Dobby and Winky are the only free elves here."
Hermione sat down, Indian-style, on the floor, to which Harry followed suit. "But if you only asked, you all could be free. I'm pretty positive that Dumbledore would not want to be considered your master. He does not approve of slavery."
One of the house-elves plugged his ears. "Miss speaks treacherous words!"
"No she doesn't," Harry said sharply. "You lot have it good here. How many of you lived with other families before coming here to Hogwarts?" Quite a few raised their hands. "What was it like there? Why did you leave?"
"Flipsy didn't leaves her family, sir!" said a female house-elf near Harry indignantly. "Flipsy was sold to Hogwarts because her master could no longer affords her." She looked quite sorry about it. "Poor Flipsy never did anything that her poor master had to pays for, but Master was in debt…"
"And he sold you," Hermione said angrily, "without giving you a choice."
"A house-elf needs no choice," said an older house elf. "We do what we are supposed to."
"Here, at Hogwarts, what are you supposed to do? How is that decided?" Harry asked.
"Fixer," came the response, and all eyes turned on the old house-elf who had spoken before.
"I take it you're Fixer," Harry said, bemused.
The old elf nodded. "Fixer I am," he said. "Fixer has been here at Hogwarts the longest, and is the oldest of the house-elves. Professor Dumbledore lets Fixer give the others jobs to do."
"And how does that make you feel?" Hermione asked. "Do you like being able to choose which elf gets which job."
"Fixer will admit, it is nice," the elf said and looked away shamefully.
"Don't feel bad about it," Hermione said soothingly. "Having a choice is a nice thing."
"Exactly," Harry said. "Imagine being able to choose to do exactly what you wanted to. Imagine being able to choose where to work and where to live. Imagine not having to work long into the night. Imagine the respect you could receive from wizards, who would listen to you!"
Hermione beamed at Harry. "Here at Hogwarts, you have it good, but what about other house-elves, who live with cruel masters? How many of you were beaten before you came here?" Several elves raised their hands. "How many of you secretly wished to leave that home?" They looked hesitant, but not a single hand dropped. Hermione pulled out her petition. "Well that's what I'm trying to offer you! I want to help each and every one of you to be able to choose what you want to do and to help your friends out of those horrible situations with cruel masters. You deserve the right to wages and fair treatment. You deserve it."
The house-elves looked at each other. It was Fixer, the old elf, who spoke. "We do not want to do anything against Professor Dumbledore's wishes. We cannot sign Miss's letter."
"Then wait until Professor Dumbledore gets back," Harry said. "Hermione and I will personally take you to see him when he gets back and ask him if he minds if you sign this petition. Does that sound alright?"
Fixer frowned, but nodded. "Fixer agrees to that."
Hermione looked over at Harry happily before saying to the house-elves, "I'm sure he'll approve. Thank you so much for your time."
"Here!" said a squeaky voice as a small house-elf came forward with a tray of fudge. "Take some…Our treat!"
Harry laughed. "Thanks. Ron would certainly be happy." He snagged two.
"Good-bye," Hermione said to them. "Good-bye, Dobby-good-bye Winky!"
"Yeah, 'bye!" Harry said, giving the elves a wave before exiting. As soon as the portrait closed, Hermione promptly squealed in glee, hugged him tightly, and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you, Harry!" she said happily.
"Oh, you're welcome," he said, momentarily stunned by her giddiness.
"You know, Harry, I think they really listened to us! I think they may sign the petition!"
Her happiness was contagious. He grinned at her enthusiasm. "I think you're right," he said. "Provided, of course, that Dumbledore agrees."
"Oh he must!" Hermione cried as they headed back towards Gryffindor Tower. "If he doesn't…I don't think I could ever think of him the same again!"
"Ouch! Harsh words," he said jokingly.
"Quit teasing me," she said, giving his arm a little swat. She eyed the fudge in his hand. "How about you give me one of those pieces of fudge and don't mention to Ron that we were in the kitchens?"
He held out his hand for her. "I can't believe you wish to deprive a Weasley of food."
She took a piece of fudge from his hand and popped it into her mouth. "What he doesn't know can't hurt him," she said with a wink.
He laughed. "Why Hermione, this is a side of you I've never seen before and I have to admit, I like it."
She had a mischievous gleam in her eyes which told him loud and clear, you don't know the half of it. He could only laugh again.
*****
The next evening, however, was not nearly as fun. Ron and Hermione bade him good-bye after dinner as he headed down towards the dungeons for his detention with Snape. A thousand horrors ran through his head as he walked to the office of his most loathed professor, and it was with great reluctance that he knocked on the door when he arrived.
"Enter," he heard Snape bark from inside.
Harry walked in quietly, keeping his eyes averted towards the floor. The last time he had been in this office, Snape had thrown things at him.
"Ah yes, Potter," Snape said quietly, a malicious gleam in his dark eyes. I have quite the assignment for you…follow me," he snapped, getting up from behind his desk and leading Harry out of his office into the Potions classroom and over to a dingy storage closet. "There are a lot of potions ingredients in here. I want you to order them and shelve them properly. If you happen to run across any tadpole tails or newt eyes, their jars will have to be cleaned. I'm sure you're up to the task." He smirked. "No magic. And to make sure you don't use it, I'll be taking your wand." He held out his hand.
Harry gave him a look of deepest loathing. "Yes, sir," he said grudgingly, taking out his wand and placing it in Snape's hand.
"Happy cleaning," Snape murmured before turning on his heel and leaving. Harry looked into the closet and cursed before getting to work.
He had just opened up his third jar of tadpole tails to clean when he heard a knock, but it wasn't on the classroom door. He heard Snape mutter, "Enter," before realizing that the door between the classroom and Snape's office was ajar, making it quite easy for him to eavesdrop. Harry poured out the contents of his jar before beginning to scrub when he heard a woman's voice that made him cringe.
"I'm here to ask you a few questions, Snape," Mara Frost said.
"About the murders?" Snape asked distractedly.
"Would you drop your quill for a second, Snape, or do you enjoy being a greasy, rude git?" Frost asked scathingly.
Harry heard a quill drop. "I'm feeling so inclined to answer your questions now, Frost," Snape spat back sardonically. "And seeing as I'm a 'greasy, rude git,' I won't offer you a seat."
"Boohoo, I'm so upset," Frost muttered sarcastically. "I've been wondering for awhile now how that Lupin ever got to become a teacher here at Hogwarts?"
"That is a question I ask myself everyday," Snape replied. "Although he probably does a half-decent job on the werewolf unit with his third and fourth year classes."
"Holding observations during the full moon, I'm sure," Frost said with a snort. "But what exactly is the connection between Lupin and Dumbledore that allows him to teach here? Dumbledore's smart enough not to keep a werewolf around. Why keep Lupin?"
"I don't know," Snape replied shortly.
"I saw Lupin, McGonagall, and that great big oaf Hagrid speaking in quite the hushed tones the other day. The oddest group, wouldn't you say? What's Dumbledore got going on here, Snape? Surely you, Mr. Nosy, know something."
Harry finished cleaning out his tadpole jar before replacing the tadpoles and storing them away. Then, quietly, he crept over to the door to sneak a peek at Snape and Frost.
Frost was leaning on Snape's desk, her eyes icy and intense.
"I'm surprised at the oddity of the group and I happen to know nothing about why those three were chatting. It is not up to me to keep a running tab of all the gossip around here. Why are you here, Mara? Surely not just to gossip yourself-that's not like you," Snape murmured.
An eyebrow rose. "While I scoff at the idea of gossiping," Frost said, "I scoff even more at your notion that you actually know me."
"I spent seven years with you, Mara. I know you. I know a lot about you. I even know exactly why you became an Auror," Snape said.
"I became an Auror to defend the wizarding world from creeps like you," she spat.
"Ha! Do you actually believe that lie? You followed a delusion. You know, it was hard to tell whether you loved him or loathed him most of the time. Your twisted sphere of emotions was sickening to watch-your self-hatred pathetic. But your jealousy…your jealousy was simply an amazing sight. You are the ultimate green-eyed monster."
"Are you finished yet?"
Snape's lip curled. "I know what you are, Mara."
"And I know what you are too, Severus. You're a Death Eater-a man with hatred in his heart, a hatred that was fueled not only by childhood teasing and taunting, but also the jealousies of man. You felt something for that Mudblood I detested."
Harry's eyes widened and Snape rose, indignant. "You dare think that I was jealous of Potter because of Evans? How crossed your wires are! If I was ever jealous of Potter because of anything it was because he had…" he trailed off, turning away from Frost.
"Had what?" Frost asked, tilting her head slightly. "If you weren't jealous over the Mudblood, then…" she trailed off too, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You must be kidding me..." Her face contorted in disgust. "Me?"
Snape turned, furious. "Compared to the rest of those dragons you had the visage of a bloody goddess! You're talented and sarcastic and you understand exactly what it is like to hate practically everything. Forgive me for at one point being young and stupid and thinking that we for some reason were destined to be together! I am certainly happy that those feelings have long since gone away!"
"As am I," Frost said, "because I feel like vomiting."
"Well, you know where the loo is…don't let the door hit you on the way out," Snape snapped.
"Try not to get your nose stuck when you close your desk drawer," Frost retorted, turning to leave.
"Try not to get Azkaban duty," Snape returned coolly, to which Frost turned once again, her eyes blazing.
"I'll make sure you get there first, you dickless bastard," she said, her voice shaking. With that, she exited, slamming the door shut.
Harry hurried back to his closet and quickly put away several jars when Snape marched over and opened the door. "Work faster, Potter, or I'll give you another detention!" he spat vilely as Harry continued to work, his mind reeling over what he had just overheard.
*****
"That's just gross," was Ron's response when Harry came back to the common room and relayed the story to both him and Hermione. "Snape used to fancy the Ice Bitch?"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded.
"What? You think the exact same thing."
"But I'd never say it for everyone else to hear."
"Who's around to hear me?" Ron asked, sweeping his hand around the empty common room. "We're the last ones up, as usual."
Hermione turned to Harry. "Well, it explains why Snape hasn't turned her in. What else did you hear, Harry?"
Harry grimaced. "That Frost either fancied or despised my dad."
"Again, gross."
"Thanks, Ron."
"Don't get me wrong," Ron said, "your dad was probably a fine fellow, but Frost fancying anyone is just gross."
"I'm sure Frost wasn't your father's type," Hermione said. "After all, who would want to be with a cruel and malicious person?"
"At least I understand why she hates my mum so much now. She was jealous of her because she got my dad," Harry said. "Anyway, she suspects something about the Order."
"Does she?" Hermione frowned. "She's an intelligent woman, there isn't any denying it."
"I wish Dumbledore were back," Ron said. "I'd feel safer. Have we heard anything about You-Know-Who since Fudge's death?"
"No, but you would think that we would," Hermione said. "We are currently without a Minister of Magic. An attack right now would be perfect for him."
"Something's up," Harry said quietly.
"How do you know?" Ron asked.
"I don't know-I just do."
Hermione gave him a worried look. "Harry, please, I beg of you, the moment Professor Dumbledore returns, start your Occlumency lessons back up. You can't let Voldemort have access to your mind! And you can't feel his emotions…it would drive you slowly insane!"
He sighed. "I'll think about it."
*****
Dumbledore returned about a week later. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched him as he walked through the doors in the entrance hall and walked slowly up the marble staircase. He looked exhausted.
"That was the weakest I've ever seen him look," Ron said quietly the next time they had a chance to talk in private. "He looked really feeble-like an old man."
"He sort of is," Harry reminded him. "He's powerful, but he's still an aged man."
"It doesn't matter," Hermione said dismissively. "The point is that he's back now, meaning that the Ministry has finally chosen the new Minister of Magic."
"D'you think they'll announce it tomorrow?" Ron asked.
"We'll have to keep a lookout," Hermione said, nodding slightly.
Privately she said to Harry later, "I think I'll wait until he's more settled in before we go with Fixer up to his office."
Harry nodded. "It's probably for the best."
"And you'll talk to him about taking up Occlumency too, right Harry?"
He frowned. "Maybe," he said and tried to change the subject. "I wonder who the new Minister is."
Hermione gave him a patronizing look. "Occlumency, Harry," she said firmly.
"I told you last week I'd think about it," Harry said exasperatedly. "I haven't made up my mind yet."
"When are you?"
"I don't know!" Harry snapped. "Quit nagging, would you?"
Hermione looked highly affronted. "I don't want to see you get hurt."
He stood up angrily. "Hurt? Ever practice Occlumency, Hermione? It gives you one hell of a headache and last time I checked, that's getting hurt!"
"No, that's just pain induced by intense concentration!" Hermione shot back.
Harry cursed violently and glared at Hermione before saying in a low growl, "I know how to take care of myself. I'll do what is best for me."
"I know you can, Harry," Hermione said quietly, folding her hands and placing them on her lap. "But I'm worried that you'll suffer through a burnout with all of the weight you carry on your shoulders and that you'll try to take the easy way out."
Harry bit back his retort, letting Hermione's words sink in. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "It is my responsibility to get rid of Voldemort. I have to kill him. There isn't an 'easy way out.' I am going to use every tool available to me to stop him."
"And what if that tool backfires?" Hermione asked. "What if that tool is used against you? What then?"
He sighed. "I don't know."
"I think the cons outweigh the pros, Harry. Seeing as you're still thinking about it, think about that," Hermione said.
"I will," Harry promised. "Right now in fact," he added and headed towards the portrait hole.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.
"I'm going to a place where I can have some peace and quiet," he replied and opened the portrait before stepping through and heading to the Room of Requirement, where he thought about what Hermione had said while returning to his work on the Phoenix.
*****
Dumbledore looked much better the next morning at breakfast, Harry decided, after he, Ron, and Hermione had sat down. The headmaster had already been in the Great Hall and he was looking out at his students contently.
When the mail arrived, Hermione quickly paid for her copy of the Daily Prophet and opened it up to reveal:
New Minister of Magic
After weeks of closed door interviews and considerations, the Wizengamot has finally found a replacement for the recently deceased Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "We are pleased to announce," said Tiberius Ogden last evening around six o'clock, "that our new Minister of Magic is Madam Amelia Bones, the now former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
The article went on, but each of them looked up, grinning. "That's the one you really liked, right, Harry?" Ron asked.
Harry nodded. "She's decent and fair."
"She sounds like just what we need, what with this war going on," Ron said. "How well d'you think she'll stop You-Know-Who's attacks?"
"He's elusive," Hermione said. "It will be very hard."
"Well if she doesn't get results right off the bat the public's going to be against her," Ron said. "Wizards are a fickle lot."
"The public is always fickle," Hermione said just as Harry looked up to see Susan Bones at the Hufflepuff table get surrounded by her classmates.
He chuckled lightly. "Poor Susan Bones is getting all of the attention now," he said to Ron and Hermione, who both turned to look at Susan. "She'll be quite famous now seeing as her aunt's the new Minister."
"At least it's not all focused on you now, Harry," Ron said with a grin.
"She should be quite proud that her aunt is the Minister, but still," Hermione said, turning back around, "I'm sure she doesn't want all of that attention."
"How would you know?" Ron challenged.
"Do you remember how people wanted to talk to her after the ten Death Eaters escaped last year? Do you remember how nervous she looked? It was quite obvious that she didn't like the sudden fame," Hermione replied.
"Of course, the fact that they wanted to know all about her dead relatives had nothing to do with her anxiety, did it?" Ron shot back.
Hermione opened her mouth to retort and then frowned. "Well, yes, I suppose you do have a point." She turned around and glanced at Susan again. "Then again, she's making the same face now."
Both Harry and Ron looked-Susan Bones' face was showing the utmost signs of discomfort. Ron sighed. "Just for once I'd like to be right…"
*****
Susan Bones dealt with her newfound fame for days to come. By the beginning of the next week, Harry seemed to notice that she was getting bored with all of the people approaching her about her aunt. Honestly, he couldn't blame her.
That evening, Hermione approached Harry about going to see Dumbledore finally.
"He's had some time to rest up," Hermione said. "We should take Fixer up there and show him that Dumbledore does not want to keep him or the other house-elves as slaves and that he approves of the elves signing the petition."
Harry sighed. "Alright, let's go."
Hermione beamed as they left the common room and headed down to the kitchens. When they entered, they found Fixer immediately and asked him to accompany them to see Professor Dumbledore. Then they began their long, quiet walk up to Dumbledore's office.
When they reached the stone gargoyle, Harry muttered, "I hope he hasn't changed the password…Licorice wand!"
The gargoyle hopped aside and Harry grinned in triumph before ushering Hermione and the house-elf onto the moving staircase. When they reached the door, Harry knocked three times before waiting patiently.
"Enter," they heard Dumbledore call from behind it as the door gently opened on its own.
Harry stepped inside first, followed by Hermione and lastly, Fixer. Dumbledore smiled at them. "Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger…" His gaze fell upon the house-elf. "And Fixer!" He smiled warmly at the elf. "Quite a surprise this is. Please sit," he said, clapping his hands three times, each time an armchair appearing. "What can I do for you?"
"We're sorry to disturb you, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione began, sitting down in her chair.
"Oh, you didn't disturb me, Miss Granger. I was actually trying to decide on what to do next." His eyes twinkled.
Hermione blushed all the same. "Well, sir, I'm not quite sure if you know about my quest for equal rights for magical creatures…"
"I'm very well aware of S.P.E.W., Miss Granger, and I think it is a wonderful idea," Dumbledore said, his smile widening.
Hermione blushed again. "Thank you, sir. I've-er-made a petition-one for wizards and another for house-elves-to sign to help house-elves gain their freedom. However," she said, glancing down at Fixer, "the house-elves here believe that…well, they believe that…"
"That I don't want them to be free?" Dumbledore chuckled. "And I suppose that Fixer is here acting as the representative of the elves here at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, sir," Hermione replied.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled before turning to Harry. "Is there anything you need to ask me, Harry?"
"No, sir," Harry replied. "I'm just here for moral support."
"And Mr. Weasley isn't?"
"Well-er-Ron's a bit old-fashioned about house-elf rights," Hermione said, frowning.
"You will run across that a lot, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I know, sir," she replied, just as quiet.
"Well, you certainly do have my approval," Dumbledore said, smiling again. "Fixer, you may tell the others that I would actually be delighted if you would all petition for your freedom."
Fixer's eyes grew wide. "Really, sir?"
"Very much so. I've always been willing to free each and every one of you, but you wouldn't have it," Dumbledore said. "Freedom can be a scary thing for those who don't have it, but it really is a blessing."
"Yes, sir!" Fixer squeaked.
"Miss Granger holds an excellent opportunity for you all," Dumbledore said. "Take it."
Fixer nodded. "Fixer will tell all of the elves of your approval right away, sir!" He hopped down from his chair and ran off.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I suggest, Miss Granger, that you and Mr. Potter go with him. There are a lot of elves who are about to sign your petition."
"Yes, sir," Hermione said, her smile radiant. "Thank you so much, Professor."
He smiled. "One last thing before you go, Harry," he said as both Harry and Hermione were about to exit.
Harry turned back as Hermione quickly walked out and closed the door. "Yes, Professor?"
"Have you had any more dreams?" he asked, his eyes searching.
"No, sir, none." He frowned and looked down. "I'm sorry that I slipped up the night Fudge died."
"As dangerous as your link is to Voldemort, it is indeed helpful. But be mindful of your emotions before you slumber, Harry, or they could be used against you."
"Again," Harry added quietly, before turning and leaving.
*****
Hearing of Professor Dumbledore's approval, each house-elf signed Hermione's petition, although many were still apprehensive. When they returned to the common room, Harry noticed Hermione's satisfactory grin when Ron gaped at all of the signatures on the piece of parchment she was holding.
"They signed it?" he gasped. "I didn't even know that they could write!"
Harry could only chuckle silently to himself when he heard Hermione's exasperated sigh.
Two days later marked the last day of March. The chance to go home for an Easter holiday was fast approaching, but as usual, Harry, Ron and Hermione would be staying at Hogwarts-at least, Harry thought they would until Giles, Hermione's owl, arrived with a letter for her.
"It's from my parents," she said, opening the envelope and slipping the letter out. "I wonder what they have to say." She lapsed into silence as she read the letter.
"Holiday. Quidditch," Ron said bluntly before diving into a large plate of breakfast which included eggs, bacon, and waffles.
"That's definitely part of the game plan," Harry said, grinning. "Although I hate to say it, but we can't wait until the last minute to get our homework done, so we'll have to make room for it."
Ron's jaw dropped and he glared furiously at Hermione. "What have you done to him, Hermione? He's as insane as you are!"
She gave him an annoyed glance and went back to her letter, frowning.
"Something wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked her.
"It looks like I won't be spending my Easter holiday here with you two," Hermione said.
"What? Why?" Ron demanded.
"My parents have ordered me to return home. My grandparents will be spending the week with us and I have been kindly reminded how long it's been since I last saw them," Hermione muttered.
"How long has it been?" Ron asked.
"Six years."
Ron nearly spat out his milk. "Six years! I thought your family would be close."
"They don't live near us," Hermione said, shrugging it off.
Harry frowned. Obviously her father's parents would be visiting and Harry remembered a conversation with her where she revealed that they didn't even know that she was a witch. He watched as she set the letter down, rubbed her forehead, and set her hands in her lap. Harry reached over underneath the table and gave her hand a squeeze, trying to tell her that everything would be fine. She glanced over and gave him a slight smile, thanking him.
Ron was attacking his food again. "Well, a week with the grandparents can be fun. I always liked visiting my grandparents."
Hermione gave a small insincere laugh and went back to her breakfast.
*****
Later on that evening Harry found himself back in the Room of Requirement, working on the Phoenix. The common room had gotten overcrowded as the fifth and seventh years started to realize how close their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were while Ron continuously complained about an essay set by Professor Flitwick for Charms that both Harry and Hermione had gotten done the other night. When Hermione left to begin packing her trunk for the trip home, Harry got up and left the common room, swearing he wouldn't go back until after midnight.
He actually had gotten a lot of work done in the hours he spent in the Room of Requirement. By the time midnight rolled around, he had gotten all of the twigs attached to the shaft. It looked like a real racing broom-all it needed was all of the spells required to make it fly.
Harry yawned and stretched. "Mind making this stuff disappear again until I come back?" he asked the room and instantly it was gone. He grinned. "Thanks."
He headed back to the common room. He tiptoed up to his dorm and retrieved his mother's diary before heading back down the spiral stairs and lying down on a sofa. He checked where he had bookmarked the diary. It was somewhere in the middle of her fifth year. Part of Harry couldn't believe that he had somehow managed to read through four and a half years of entries.
18 February, 1976
My day was horrifically boring. No tests, no pop quizzes, no stressful situations-nothing. It was drab. Usual. Normal. Quite frankly, I'm sick of it. Maybe once the frenzy over O.W.L.s begin, life will pick up.
Even Potter and Black were boring today. Actually, they looked extremely tired for once, as did Remus and Pettigrew.
Speaking of Remus, there was a prefect's meeting this evening. It was the same thing as last time: discussing the rules, scheduling rounds, logging detentions…not even the brief arrival of Peeves made it interesting.
Okay, Mara Frost's argument with Portia Mackay was a bit entertaining. It was like watching a Muggle game show that has people match wits against each other. Sadly it was the ever-moody Frost who won out, somehow duping the Head Girl. Ravenclaws are smart, no doubt, but Frost can expose weaknesses. She's dangerous, that's for sure. She used to scare me, but not anymore. I mean, she still glares at me like always (have I mentioned that?), but I've become immune to them. I don't even care what her problem is with me anymore. She's just a spiteful girl.
Hopefully tomorrow won't be as boring.
Lily
19 February, 1976
Oh my God…I'm speechless. No really, I am! I think…I think that Potter actually flirted with me. We were in Charms putting legs on teacups when his starts to constantly bump into mine. Then he says, "I guess my cup just fancies yours," with this little look in his eye. Oh my God…I didn't know what to say! I still don't! He is the biggest prat in the universe and he flirted with me!
I need some time to recover.
Lily
Harry chuckled. His father was certainly a forward one-a lot more forward than Harry was. He could actually picture the look on his mother's face when his father tried to flirt with her. He imagined that she had a look of both pure shock and mortification on her face. He could see his father's cocky, lopsided grin.
"I guess my cup just fancies yours."
His father must have really matured in order for his mother to actually like him. From the diary entries that he had read, he knew that his mother wanted no part of James Potter.
And yet they ended up married and had a child together.
Harry closed his eyes, remembering the scene Professor Lupin had shown him in his Pensieve. He remembered the way his mother smiled down at him in her arms while his father stood, excited and oh so proud. He wished that they hadn't died when they did. He wished that he could have gotten to know them. He wanted to talk to them, to see if he was living up to all of their expectations.
Somebody was humming. He turned to see his mother in the kitchen, making dinner. Harry was just a little boy. The front door opened and his father walked in, accompanied by Sirius.
"That was excellent, Padfoot my good friend. It's a shame Moony wasn't there to see all of the-Lily!" James jumped as his wife entered the foyer, her eyebrow raised.
"See all of the what, James?" she asked. James looked as though he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Oh, nothing, my sweet. Sirius and I were just having a little fun, that's all." He gave her one of his smiles that Harry knew made his mum melt.
She laughed. "You two are the worst. The wizarding world has enough to deal with without you two running around."
"Ah, she's right, mate. Perhaps they should lock us up in Azkaban," Sirius said with a wink. "Now, where's little Harry?"
Harry came running out, knowing that whatever Sirius wanted him for was probably good. "Yes, Uncle Sirius?"
"I picked up something for you while your dad and I were out," Sirius said, grinning.
"You spoil him, Padfoot," James said, but he was grinning too.
Sirius pulled out a little package from his pocket. "Somebody has to." He gave the package to Harry.
Harry snatched it away and tore it open to reveal candy. "Candy!" Harry shouted excitedly. "Thanks, Uncle Sirius!"
"You're welcome. Give me a hug."
Harry rushed over and hugged him before pulling away and being picked up by his father, who ruffled his hair. "You're going to be nice and hyper now, aren't you?"
Harry nodded seriously, causing everyone to laugh.
"Well, I got to run," Sirius said. "Give your parents hell, Harry."
"Oh, thanks," Lily said sardonically. "Good-bye Sirius. Stay safe."
"Yeah mate," James said, putting Harry down. "Keep your eyes peeled."
"No bloody Dark Lord is going to off me," Sirius said arrogantly. "But don't worry, I'll be careful." With one last smile at Harry, he turned around and left.
Suddenly, Harry was launched back into his normal life. His parents had died fifteen years ago and Sirius had died last June in the Department of Mysteries. Only now, Harry wasn't in the common room; he was in the Chamber of Secrets and he was locked in a fierce duel with Voldemort.
"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort hissed, forcing Harry's wand to launch itself from his hand. "You are truly a weak, pathetic fool." He picked up the wand that lay near his feet before tapping his wand against it. Harry watched his wand explode.
"I've been waiting fifteen long years for this," Voldemort said softly, pointing his wand at Harry. "I shall enjoy killing you."
Suddenly, Harry saw something stuck in the wall. He recognized it at once: Godric Gryffindor's sword.
He only had one chance. He had to get that sword.
"You're going to hell first," Harry said and charged before holding out his hand, focusing hard, and shouting, "Accio!"
The sword leaped into his outstretched hand. He swung it hard at Voldemort and with some satisfaction heard it go right through the Dark Lord's wand.
Harry held his sword steady at Voldemort's throat. Voldemort looked down at it vaguely before examining the half of his wand that was still in his hand. "Interesting," he said. "But I'm sure it's still usable." He swung it violently and suddenly a boulder transformed into a gleaming snake sword before flying directly to Voldemort's hand. "Now we shall play fairly, Potter."
"Wonderful," Harry said and regarded the sword. The pommel of the hilt was a snake's head. It remained straight for the grip, but then twisted in order to make the guard. The blade looked like a gray snake's body with several "s"-shaped curves until it came to its particularly sharp point at the end. It looked positively lethal.
Voldemort suddenly brought his sword up to Harry's, knocking it away from his throat before attacking. Harry parried and Voldemort attacked again and again. Harry continuously blocked him, but could not take the offense. The Dark Lord was strong and Harry was doing everything he could to stay alive. Swordplay was not his forte.
"Give up," Voldemort said as Harry was backed into a wall.
"No!" Harry said and ducked as Voldemort swung. Harry brought his sword up, the blade smacking into the side of Voldemort's head. The Dark Lord paused and felt the wound.
"My, my, young Harry, you drew blood," he taunted before his eyes went cold. "See if you can do that again."
Harry attacked, but Voldemort easily threw him off, returning Harry to the defensive as he launched a new attack.
"You will fail," Voldemort snarled as he attacked. "Even if you were to somehow defeat me now, you will have still failed. My Death Eaters even now are above us, cleansing Hogwarts. Even if you survived, your friends would fall."
"NO!" Harry screamed, forcing himself to the offensive, surprising Voldemort. He used the Dark Lord's momentary shock and thrust his sword deeply into the Dark Lord's leg, causing him to howl in pain before collapsing to his knees.
He looked up as Harry stood over him. A chuckle escaped past his lips. "Are you going to kill me, Harry? Murdering me won't save your friends."
"But it will save the world," Harry said before sticking Godric Gryffindor's sword straight through Voldemort's chest. "You won't hurt another soul."
The Dark Lord fell backwards, his mouth open grotesquely and his eyes wide in shock. Harry stared at his lifeless form for a moment, surprised at himself. He had actually killed Voldemort.
He shook his head. He had to get to his friends.
He ran from the Chamber of Secrets. Somehow he managed to climb his way out of it before rushing through the hallways of Hogwarts and down to the entrance hall, where he stopped dead. Below him was the carnage Voldemort had promised him.
Slowly he picked his way down the marble steps. Students were dead. Professors were dead. He saw Professor McGonagall lying on the floor near the entrance to the cellar. Professor Dumbledore, too, had fallen. Then he turned-his stomach rolled. There was Hagrid. Near him lay the entire Weasley family. They had all died. Harry felt tears sting his eyes. He walked past Ginny, Charlie, Bill, Fred and George, Percy, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and then-his stomach dropped completely-Ron. He stopped and dropped to his knees beside to his best friend. Ron lay spread-eagle on the floor next to his mother. Blood covered him. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.
He looked up and opened them-his chest froze. He couldn't breathe. Before him was Hermione, hung from the doorway of the Great Hall. An example. "No!" he cried, jumping up. He searched around until he spotted a wand lying on the floor. Grabbing it up, he yelled, "Diffindo!" and caught Hermione when she dropped. "Oh God, no," Harry whispered, cradling her lifeless body to him. His heart ached. Of all the people in the world who Harry had come to rely on during the war, it was Hermione whom he had relied on the most for her level head and compassion. She had always stuck by him and she was always there when he needed her. Now she was gone.
"NOOOO!"
He awoke and tried to sit straight up, but felt himself restrained by gentle hands. "It's okay, Harry, calm down," Hermione said quietly, running her hand through his hair.
"Hermione?" he gasped. The air in his chest locked up as he looked up at her. She was alive!
"I'm here. It's okay. You were having a nightmare," she said, continuing to run her hand soothingly through his hair.
He shook his head and sat up. He had fallen asleep on the sofa. His mother's diary slid off his chest. Hermione, who was sitting next to him on the edge of the sofa, took it gently and laid it on a table near her.
"What are you doing up?" he asked. "What time is it?"
"It's three o'clock. I was having trouble sleeping and I accidentally woke Lavender up with all of my tossing and turning. She told me, quite moodily in fact, to leave the dormitory and read a book if I couldn't sleep." She gestured to a book lying beside his mother's diary. "I found you down here and you looked as though you were having a fit-twitching and shaking. I was going to wake you, but then I heard you say 'Oh God, no,' and lost my nerve." She looked at him meekly.
Harry inhaled sharply and shivered. His dream had been so real. She had been dead. But it wasn't real. Nothing in his dream was real, except…
Except for the way he had felt, holding her lifeless body to him. He felt like his heart had been ripped in two. He felt like he would never be whole again.
But somehow he knew that those same feelings wouldn't apply to Ron. Harry would have been broken had Ron truly died. Yet he knew that after many long years, he would eventually have healed. Hermione on the other hand…he didn't think he could ever be the same.
He looked up into her eyes. In those brown depths he saw worry, compassion, and most of all, acceptance. It was ironic that she was sitting there. She was always there when he needed somebody. He relied on her so much. He needed her and she provided him with so much more than just support. She provided him with something else-something he couldn't put his finger on.
Suddenly his mind flashed to the day after Christmas, to the day in the Room of Requirement.
He sucked in a breath as it clicked in his head.
It was love. And it wasn't the friendly or brotherly love that Ron exhibited-it was something beyond that. Harry could never consider Hermione like a sister, but he could-
He swallowed-hard. He suddenly knew.
He was falling for her.
"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked.
He nodded slightly, swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, and buried his head in his hands. Hermione reached over and ran her hand through his hair again.
"What was your dream about? Sirius?"
"No-I-ARGH!" Pain suddenly ripped through his scar and fragmented images ran through his head. He saw a cellar-Lucius Malfoy bowing-Rodolphus Lestrange approaching and bowing-Narcissa Malfoy walking towards him with a grin on her face-a hallway-a cot with Bellatrix Lestrange lying in it, looking exhausted, but smug-Narcissa holding a something wrapped in a blanket-a newborn's face with black hair on the top of his head-and Harry heard, "Seth," before the Dark Lord screeched in laughter.
"Harry! HARRY!" Hermione cried, shaking him. He had collapsed onto the floor and was laughing hysterically. He calmed himself and sat up. "Harry, what happened?" she asked. "Who's Seth?"
"Seth?"
"You said the name before you started laughing."
The images replayed in his head. "It's a baby." He felt sick to his stomach. "He is the son of Lord Voldemort."