Harry Potter and the Mysteries of Love

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Everything belongs to that wonderful genius, J.K. Rowling.

Author’s Note: This is my first fanfiction. Special thanks go out to Pen for getting me my author’s account, Whitney and Jessica for being my betas, and Nitya just because. This goes out to all of them.

Harry Potter and the Mysteries of Love

CHAPTER ONE

COPING WITH THE LOSS

Summer was the worst time of year, especially if you had to spend it at number four, Privet Drive. For fifteen year old Harry Potter, life couldn’t get much worse than spending his summer holiday with his terrible relatives, the Dursleys.

They had always treated him badly ever since he had arrived on their doorstep at the age of one. But when he discovered the secret six years ago that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon kept, they treated him even worse. For you see, Harry was a wizard. And every summer he’d return from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to whittle away the hours until the next term started.

All was quiet around Privet Drive as most people were still in their beds asleep as the sun kissed the horizon. And in the smallest bedroom in number four, Privet Drive, Harry Potter thrashed in his bed as powerful images played in his mind.

“Come on, you can do better than that!”

The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch, a look of fear and surprise on his wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil.

“SIRIUS!” he screamed as he jerked awake. His whole body was covered in a cold sweat and a chill ran down his spine.

Yes, life could get worse than spending the summer with the Dursleys. Much worse.

Harry took in a shaky breath as he laid back down in his bed, the memories of his godfather’s end still echoing in his mind. The shock that he’d never see Sirius Black’s face ever again haunted him wherever he went and whatever he did. And he, Harry, felt he’d never be whole again.

The next thing he heard was a sharp rap on his door and the shrill voice of his Aunt Petunia yelling at him to get up. Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed and then rested his head in his hands, trying to control the surge of emotions that wanted to pour from him.

When he felt ready, he stood up and searched around for a clean set of clothes. He had let his room fall into disarray after returning and didn’t care at all to clean it up. All he wanted was for Sirius to come back and to tell him everything was okay and nothing was going to happen. But he knew that would never come.

He pulled on his clothes, ran a hand through his unruly black hair, adjusted his round glasses over his once bright emerald eyes, and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where Aunt Petunia was waiting.

“Well it’s about time,” she snapped. “Now get breakfast started.”

He didn’t argue; he did not feel like it. He simply got out a skillet and some eggs and started to fry them. The only thing he felt was slightly lucky that the Dursleys had finally given up on his cousin Dudley’s diet. It meant that he could eat real food again.

By the time he had finished cooking the eggs and plenty of bacon, his Uncle Vernon, a big man with a huge mustache and very little neck, and Dudley, who was big enough to occupy one whole seat on a school bus, had arrived and were sitting down, waiting to be fed. Vernon looked up from his newspaper scathingly at Harry when his plate was delivered.

“I suppose I’ll have to take you in for another haircut before Marge arrives,” he muttered as Harry gave Dudley his plate.

Aunt Petunia sat down with her plate and a cup of tea. “Ah yes, you told me last night. When is the dear arriving?”

Harry, who hadn’t heard that his viscous Aunt Marge would be arriving at all, sat down angrily with his plate and orange juice.

“Tomorrow. She said she’s bringing Ripper with her again,” Vernon replied.

“I can’t wait to see her,” Dudley said eagerly.

Harry snorted under his breath. Of course Dudley wanted to see her, she always gave him money.

Vernon was studying Harry again. “No, forget the haircut. It’s just a mop of ragged filth anyway.”

Harry said nothing. He just continued to look down into his plate of eggs.

“You keep out of Marge’s way, you hear? I won’t have you—you blowing her up again,” Vernon said, purple starting to work its way into his face.

“I won’t blow her up just as long as she doesn’t get me angry,” Harry snapped back. “If she says anything about my mother—”

“Your mother deserves all the criticism she gets,” Vernon spat.

Dudley finished off his meal and jumped up. “Gotta run,” he said with a grin. This surprised Harry. Usually his favorite activity was hearing his father yell insults at Harry.

“Good-bye, Diddy. See you later,” called Aunt Petunia as Dudley grabbed his leather coat and headed out.

Harry sat back, watching his uncle closely. “My mother was a good person.”

Both his aunt and uncle glowered. “We will not discuss her,” Petunia said fiercely and jumped up, snatching Harry’s plate along with her own.

“I don’t see why Marge must come here with that pathetic dog of hers,” Harry grumbled as the remaining food on his plate was scraped into the garbage.

Uncle Vernon looked furious. “That’s Aunt Marge to you! And don’t you go asking rude questions again, boy!”

Harry rolled his eyes as his stomach garbled. Uncle Vernon, seeing this, snapped.

“Don’t you go rolling your eyes at me boy! We took you in when we didn’t have to! We could have given you to an orphanage! But we kept you, out of the kindness of our hearts, even though we knew you’d be nothing but a scruffy lowlife! We should have just kicked you out the moment you started to cause problems,” Vernon bellowed.

“You should have just kicked me out,” Harry repeated, “the moment I started to cause problems.” He laughed, cold and angry. “Don’t pull that crap on me. I know the truth. I know why Aunt Petunia received that Howler last year. ‘Remember my last, Petunia.’ That’s what it said. You can’t get rid of me until I choose to leave.”

Uncle Vernon looked very angry now. “Get out,” he whispered malevolently. “Get out right now and don’t come back until you’ve learned some manners!”

Harry jumped up and eyed his uncle with an equal amount of rage. “I’ll leave,” he told him, “but you won’t like where I’m going. And you definitely won’t like who I’ll be talking to.”

He stalked away as Vernon jumped up. “No!”

Harry swung around. “What?” he demanded.

“Don’t—don’t go talking to those friends of yours. You don’t have to leave,” he pleaded.

If he wasn’t so consumed with rage, he would have actually laughed at the situation. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

He was instantly bathed in the morning sunlight as he crossed the Dursleys’ front lawn and headed off towards Magnolia Crescent. He didn’t really know where to go but he knew he had to get away from his relatives.

He thought about going to the park but immediately scratched that idea. The park was going to be crowded on such a fine July day and all he wanted was to either be alone or talk to someone who could understand him.

But no one understood him, not anymore.

He scowled as he walked. No, not a single person understood him anymore. The last person to understand him in every single way was now dead and never returning. He was completely alone.

And what about Ron or Hermione? asked a voice in his head.

No, they wouldn’t understand. Neither Ron nor Hermione had ever faced death like he had. They would never be able to understand why he was having such a hard time coping with the loss of his godfather. They had never felt such pain.

True, his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, had been a great asset to him. He wouldn’t have been able to do half the things he had done in his time at Hogwarts without their help. Each of them had dealt with their share of scrapes and somehow had managed to come out okay in the end, but neither had faced the biggest scrape of all—facing Harry’s nemesis, Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort, a man (if you could call him a man) who’s name many wizards feared to speak, had murdered Harry’s parents nearly fifteen years ago. Harry had managed to escape thanks to his mother’s sacrifice, placing a protection on her only son. Voldemort’s powers were diminished while Harry gained his legendary scar. But now that Voldemort had returned to power, Harry was aware of what the Dark Lord was doing. His scar tingled a lot and he had felt great bursts of pain time after time telling him Voldemort wasn’t pleased. And why should he be? Harry had once again thwarted him by taking away the one thing he wanted for a full year—a prophecy made about both him and Harry. A prophecy Harry knew because Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts, was there to hear it and knew the prophecy in its entirety. Voldemort was probably thinking of some other way to hear the prophecy, or maybe he had just forgotten about it and was planning on how to kill Harry right at this very moment.

Harry heard footsteps come up behind him. He stopped, turned, and came face-to-face with his beefy cousin Dudley and his gang of ruffians.

Dudley smiled broadly with an evil glint in his eye as his gang cracked their knuckles menacingly. “Well, well, well,” Dudley said triumphantly, “look who we have here. If it isn’t the freak, Harry Potter.”

“How’s St. Brutus’s, Potter?” sneered one of Dudley’s friends, Piers Polkiss.

Uncle Vernon had once made up a story that every fall Harry went off to St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Harry imagined that once Aunt Marge arrived he’d have to keep up the fiasco. But it was very apparent that Dudley had fed the same story to his gang.

“Pleasant as always,” Harry snapped back. “Did Dinky Diddydums tell you how many times I get caned while I’m there?”

Dudley purpled as well as his father as a few of the boys laughed while others gasped.

Dudley took a step forward. “I’ve been waiting fifteen years to do this…”

Harry took an immediate step back as some of the members of Dudley’s gang shouted, “Get him, Big D!” or “Rip him apart Dud!”

Dudley swung and Harry managed to miss the first blow, shouts of “Get him, Big D!” still being yelled. Dudley tried to hook him but Harry swerved. Finally, Dudley settled on a couple of jabs, one of which connected with Harry’s jaw magnificently.

Harry rubbed his jaw as Dudley plowed his fist right into Harry’s gut. Harry wheezed but dodged the next punch and said, “You’ll pay for that Dudley. I’m not going to say how, but I will say that it has to do with some of my friends. Y’know, like the one with the eye.”

Dudley backed away immediately. “W-What?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I’m due to talk to them again too,” Harry told him and watched the panic rise in his cousin’s eyes.

“Who’s he talking about Big D?” asked Gordon, another one of Dudley’s friends.

Harry smiled. “Oh, I’ve got some friends at St. Brutus’s. Friends who like to make sure everything’s going okay for me. One of them murdered his neighbor’s dog because it looked at him funny.” Several of the gang members gulped. Harry turned back to Dudley. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you, Diddy.”

He walked away, heading up the street once again. He didn’t stop until Dudley’s gang was out of sight. Then he paused and rubbed his jaw again.

Now what was he going to do? If he headed back, he’d either run into Dudley or go back to a very bad tempered uncle. Where was he to go? He suddenly wished he could head to the Burrow to spend time with Ron and the Weasley family.

No, not yet. I’m not ready to talk yet, said a voice in his mind.

So he’d put up with the Dursleys for a while longer, until he was ready. But what about right now? He couldn’t possibly go back to Privet Drive yet.

He heard a noise on the other side of the street and swung around. Sitting on the pavement on the other side of the street was a cat, one that Harry thought he recognized. He stared at it for a minute until he realized that it was Mr. Tibbles, one of Mrs. Figg’s cats. He watched the cat for a moment as it eyed him from across the street.

Probably sent to spy on me, Harry thought angrily as he walked on, but he stopped again. The cat probably was sent to watch after him, because the wizarding world needed Harry alive and walking out and about like he was wasn’t the greatest of things for him to be doing. He could get attacked by the dementors, the Azkaban guards, again.

Harry turned back, thinking about having to face his uncle again when he stopped for a third time and looked at the cat again. Of course, how could he have been so stupid? Why should he go back to the Dursleys while the Order would welcome him with open arms? All he would have to do was talk to Mrs. Figg and get her to talk to a member of the Order for him, maybe even Dumbledore himself.

He eyed the cat one last time as he headed off and down the road Mrs. Figg lived on. He was well aware that the cat was following him down the block as he made his way to Mrs. Figg’s house.

He stepped up to the door and sighed. I can’t believe I actually want to go into Mrs. Figg’s home, Harry thought. I must have lost my mind. He knocked three times and waited. As he stood there, he could already smell the sent of cabbages and cats. He groaned inwardly.

When Mrs. Figg opened the door, she gave Harry a worried look. “Come in, come in,” she said, ushering him inside.

He stepped in, Mr. Tibbles following right behind him. He suddenly thought how strange it must seem to Mrs. Figg. He shouldn’t be bothering her with such stupid teenager emotions.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked as she bustled about. “I wasn’t expecting you to come over, but it is a pleasant surprise.”

“Er—thanks. Yeah, I’ll take some tea,” Harry replied.

“It’s actually good that you arrived. An Order member is supposed to arrive here shortly, to see how everything’s doing,” Mrs. Figg was saying as she led Harry into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Harry murmured and sat down in the seat she motioned to as she got out the makings for tea.

“Those Muggles haven’t been treating you badly, have they?” she asked as she studied him.

“The same as always,” he replied as one of her cats rubbed up against his leg.

“Really? Then what’s that forming on your chin? Looks like a bruise to me. You haven’t been fighting, have you Harry?”

“What? Oh, no—I sort of had a small run-in with my cousin and his gang,” Harry explained hastily. “But I gave him a good scare.”

“You be careful around those lousy Muggles. That Dursley boy is nothing but trouble. A big fat pig, if you ask me.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he smiled. “That describes him accurately.”

Suddenly, there was a loud crack in the living room and Harry jumped. “Ah, that’d be our Order member now. I’ll just go greet him.”

Mrs. Figg headed out and Harry listened hard for snippets of the conversation.

“You’ll never believe who’s here,” came Mrs. Figg’s voice. “Come in, he’s in the kitchen.”

Harry jumped up as Mrs. Figg returned to the kitchen accompanied by a man who Harry hadn’t seen in a month.

“Hello, Harry,” Remus Lupin greeted.

“Hello, Professor Lupin,” Harry replied and sat back down.

“How is it at the Dursleys’?” he asked as he joined Harry at the table.

“Same as always,” Harry answered.

“What’s going on? It’s not like you just to drop by for a visit,” Lupin said as Mrs. Figg poured tea into three cups.

“He and his cousin got into a fight,” Mrs. Figg said as she handed Lupin his cup. “Can’t you see the bruise?”

Lupin looked at Harry for a moment, then said, “I’ll inform Dumbledore. I don’t know what he’ll do.”

Harry took his cup from Mrs. Figg, thanked her, and took a sip as Mrs. Figg ranted. “Those Muggles should treat this boy with a bit more respect. He’s defeated You-Know-Who so many times. He’s a hero.”

Lupin didn’t seem to acknowledge this. Instead he asked, “Have you received any letters from Ron or Hermione lately?”

“A few days ago. Neither said much. Ron said that Percy’s finally reconciled with his family and Hermione’s just waiting for the O.W.L. results to come in.”

“That sounds like Hermione,” Lupin said with a smile. “So what’s happening with the Dursleys?”

“Aunt Marge is coming with her stupid dog,” Harry spat angrily.

“Is she the one you blew up a few years ago?”

Harry nodded and Mrs. Figg let out a snort of laughter. Lupin chuckled thoughtfully.

“I’ve already warned Uncle Vernon that if she says anything about my mother I might blow her up again,” Harry said.

“So is that why you blew her up last time? Because she said something bad about Lily?” Lupin looked rather thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t see how anyone could say anything bad about Lily. She was the most kind-hearted person any of us knew.” He chuckled. “I remember how James had such a crush on her. Every time she passed he’d mess up his hair. Siri—” He cut off, seeing the anguished look on Harry’s face.

“I’m sorry, Harry. It’s affecting me as well. He was like a brother to me, even if he was more so to James. But I have to keep remembering all of the great things about him—all of the fond memories I have of him to keep going. It’s hard, I know.”

Harry stayed silent. A wave of emotion was threatening to break through the dam he was building inside of himself.

“You know, Harry, we can talk,” Lupin said gently. “He was my friend too.”

Harry stayed silent still. He didn’t need to talk about him yet. He couldn’t talk about him yet.

“Would you mind, Harry, if I just sat back and told you some stories about him? I’ve got a bunch of good ones. Would it be okay?”

Harry sat there in turmoil. As much as he wanted to shout out that he wouldn’t, he nodded his head weakly.

Lupin sat back and took a sip of his tea before he began. “I remember the first day I met Sirius. He and your father were already inseparable. It was during the welcoming feast after we all had been sorted. James and Sirius were congratulating each other on making Gryffindor. I was sitting pretty close to them and was pretty nervous, considering that I’m a werewolf and all and I didn’t think I was going to have any friends.

“The first thing I noticed about them was that they, from the start, were very mischievous. Sirius put a spell on one of the other first years at our table—a boy by the name of Peter Pettigrew.” Both Lupin and Harry scowled. “I laughed and James turned to me and introduced himself, Sirius following suit. Then James said, ‘If you liked that, just wait to see what we’re planning to do to one of those Ravenclaw girls over there after the feast.’ So after the feast I followed them and James performed a spell that made the girl’s skirt fly up, revealing her knickers.”

Mrs. Figg rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like, “Immature boys.”

“Sirius wanted me to try it,” Lupin continued, “and so I did. I never thought I’d see the day when two girls blushed such a shade of red. James and Sirius liked me and for the first time in a long time, I had friends, and I liked that. I didn’t care what I did, as long as I had those two with me, I had fun.”

He took another sip of his tea. “Oddly enough, I don’t remember when we let Peter into the group. Maybe when we decided it wasn’t fun to pull pranks on someone who actually enjoyed it. Peter was such a rat, pardon my pun.”

Harry frowned. But he had to admit, he was enjoying hearing about Sirius and his father. He had always thought the Marauders were interesting.

“It was later, when James, Sirius, and Peter became Animagi that we developed our nicknames. It was like our own secret code to be able to send notes signed by ‘Mr. Moony’ or ‘Mr. Prongs’. And then of course we made the Marauder’s Map. We knew so much about Hogwarts it was scary.

“I remember one time when James and Sirius went to go investigate a new passageway Sirius had stumbled into during the day that they came back scratched up and bleeding. Apparently, Sirius had found a hall with knights who liked to swing their maces at anyone who passed. That was quite a night getting them back into shape before classes the next day.

“Oh, and then there was the day in seventh year when Lily and James went on their first date in Hogsmeade. Sirius and I were determined to have a little fun that day and so we hung out at the Three Broomsticks until Lily and James showed up.” Lupin chuckled again. “It was terrible. We secretly jinxed James so that he’d keep kicking Lily. She was so mad she stormed out. Come to think of it, I can’t remember a time when James was so mad either. He came right over to our table and gave us a good swift kick that took the smirk right off Sirius, Peter, and mine’s faces. We never meddled in their dates again.”

“You guys really did have a lot of fun, didn’t you?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yeah, it was great, even if we were completely stupid at the time. Peter and I were only bad when James or Sirius were and Lily straightened James out right away. Soon Sirius mellowed out too.”

“He shouldn’t have been cooped up like that,” Harry said suddenly. “He should have at least been allowed to visit someone.”

“Harry, if he had been spotted, he would have been back in Azkaban and I know you wouldn’t want that,” Lupin said gently.

“Is that traitorous house-elf, Kreacher, gone yet? Did someone kill him yet?” Harry asked fiercely.

“Harry, Kreacher is under control now. I know it’s hard to know whom to blame for Sirius’s death, but don’t blame the house-elf, or Dumbledore, or even yourself. Remember, Bellatrix Lestrange is the one who hit him with that spell and sent him behind the veil. If anyone deserves to be punished, it’s her.”

“I know. And one of these days, she will pay,” Harry said quietly.

Lupin didn’t say anything for a moment and then he murmured, “I don’t think Lily and James would want you to become a murderer.”

“It doesn’t look like I have a choice,” Harry snapped back.

Lupin looked appalled. “What?”

Harry scowled. “Dumbledore didn’t tell you the prophecy, did he?”

“No, he didn’t,” Lupin replied.

“Then ask him about it sometime,” Harry advised. “Then you’ll see I have no choice but to become a murderer.”

Lupin stared at Harry for a long time and then finished off his tea. “I’ll do that,” he said and stood up. “Arabella, thank you for the tea.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Mrs. Figg. “Are you going to try to get Harry out of that terrible Muggle home for the rest of the summer?”

“I’ll do the best I can, but there are no guarantees. I’ll see you around, Harry,” he said.

“Yeah, bye.”

And with a loud crack, Lupin was gone.

Mrs. Figg looked at her watch. “Dear Lord, look at the time! While I enjoyed your visit Harry, you must be getting back to those retched Muggles. I told Dumbledore that I’d make sure you didn’t stay out for too long. Now go on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said reluctantly and put his cup down. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Of course, now let’s get going,” she said and ushered Harry out the door. “Hurry home quick—don’t know what’s lurking behind the bushes.”

Harry nodded and without a backward glance, he headed on his way back to Privet Drive. As he walked, he saw Dudley’s gang across the street on a corner smoking cigarettes, guffawing dumbly as Dudley told them some joke. Harry passed by quickly and luckily, they did not see him.

He didn’t see anything else and soon he was on the doorstep of the Dursley’s again, not wanting to go in. He looked out over the street and watched as a mother called her young son inside. Would his mother have had to do that if she was still alive? Would she have had to call Harry in when it was time to go eat lunch?

He had missed so many things in his life because that he didn’t have any parents. The Dursleys didn’t care about him and by the time he had met Sirius, he had been too old to do such simple things like play catch or other things fathers and sons did.

But Sirius was not his father; he was just the closest thing to it.

And now he was gone.

Harry sighed and sat down on the steps. He wished that he could return to the wizarding world, where people knew who he was and respected him. That was, when the Ministry of Magic didn’t want to make him look like an utterly insane idiot. Otherwise, without the immediate danger of Voldemort, the wizarding world was an absolutely perfect world, where he didn’t have to worry about Aunt Marge coming over or whether or not Uncle Vernon was going to yell at him again.

But no, he was forced to spend his summer in the Muggle world, with no magic, no friends, and no respect.

He sighed again and got up. With one last look around Privet Drive, he opened the front door and entered the place that Harry could describe with one word: Hell.

Author’s Note: I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. Uh, this chapter would be one of the reasons why this story is rated PG-13, because of Aunt’s Marge’s excessive use of adult language. Enjoy!

CHAPTER TWO

THE ARRIVAL OF AUNT MARGE

The next day found Harry scrubbing the windows spotless as Aunt Petunia mopped the floor. Uncle Vernon and Dudley had yet to get up.

“Good, now go out and weed the garden,” Petunia ordered as she finished the mopping.

Harry stumbled out into the slightly lit back yard and headed towards the garden. Aunt Petunia awoke him at 5:30 in an attempt to get an early start at cleaning the house for Aunt Marge’s arrival.

Harry looked up to see dawn approaching. He yawned, wishing he hadn’t stayed up so late doing his Charms homework and also wishing that his dreams about Sirius would end so he could have a peaceful night’s sleep.

He had just bent down into the garden when a large barn owl swooped over his head and landed next to him, a large sheet of parchment clasped in its talons.

Harry slipped a little bronze Knut into the bag attached to its leg and the owl dropped the parchment, then flew away. Harry opened his Daily Prophet and got a severe jolt as he read the first headline.

YOU-KNOW-WHO’S SUPPORTERS ARRESTED AFTER KILLING MUGGLES

Nearly a dozen or so of You-Know-Who’s supporters (called Death Eaters) were found in a Muggle town outside Bristol last evening. Three of them were captured and arrested after four Muggles and two Aurors were killed.

“It’s clear that the Death Eaters are up to their old tricks again,” said Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge last night. “I’m upset to hear that once again Muggles have become victims of You-Know-Who.”

The three Death Eaters that were caught, Thorton Braddock, Julius March, and Edgar Roddick, will all be sent to Azkaban to join their fellow Death Eaters who were caught last month.

A memorial for the two Aurors that died, Gavin Farrell and Aidan Curtis, will be held in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic tomorrow night.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror who arrested two of the three Death Eaters last evening said this about his fellow Aurors: “They gave their lives to the war with You-Know-Who. There’s nothing much more honorable than that.”

Harry sat there, stunned. The Death Eaters were up to their old tricks again, killing Muggles for sport. Harry felt sick.

He stuffed the paper away into his back pocket and began to weed the garden. He’d look over the Prophet a little later when he had the time. That was, if he had time left after all of the things Aunt Petunia was scheduling for him to do before the arrival of Aunt Marge. As he weeded, he thought about the Death Eaters and the Muggles they killed. His resolve for becoming an Auror strengthened as the image of dead people swam into his mind. He had already lost his parents and Sirius to Voldemort and his followers and he was there when Cedric Diggory died at the hands of Wormtail, the man who betrayed his parents to Voldemort. The night that Sirius had died he had led his friends into a trap that nearly killed all of them. He recalled clearly the moment when Hermione had been hit by that spell that knocked her unconscious. He remembered how scared he had been, hoping that she hadn’t died. She survived, but Sirius hadn’t. He had to become an Auror. He hoped that he had enough O.W.L.s to do so.

When he finished, the sun was fully up and he headed back inside, taking his shoes off first so he wouldn’t dirty up his aunt’s floor. He cleaned up quickly just as Uncle Vernon strode into the living room and turned on the morning news.

Aunt Petunia stepped up beside Harry. “I see you’re done,” she said coolly. “Now grab a dust rag and dust the living room.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” he muttered nonchalantly as he wandered off to go get the dust rag.

By the time he had returned to the living room, the morning anchorman had finished with the local news and was saying, “In other news this morning, four people were found dead last evening in a town just outside of Bristol.”

Harry slowly turned and began to dust, listening hard to the television.

“Police say that there was no sign of an assault and there is no clear sign of death. The police do think, however, that these deaths are somewhat related to a few murders that took place nearly fifteen years ago. The police are hoping to catch the person or persons who have committed these crimes.”

“Damn incompetent police force,” Vernon muttered as he took a sip of his coffee.

Petunia was hanging in the doorway. “Did he say that there was no sign of an assault?”

“Yes. Why?” Vernon asked.

“Oh, no reason.” She looked faintly pale. “Odd, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Vernon replied.

“And they said that the murders might be linked to some that happened fifteen years ago?” she asked nervously. Harry swore that for a mere millisecond her gaze flickered over to him.

“Yes, but I highly doubt they are,” Vernon said and took another sip of his coffee.

Petunia walked away, leaving Harry puzzled. What on earth could she be thinking?

*****

After breakfast that morning, Vernon headed off to the train station to pick up Aunt Marge. Petunia was fixing Dudley’s hair as he ate an ice cream sandwich and watched TV.

“Why must you mess with my hair?” Dudley demanded around a mouthful of chocolate and vanilla ice cream.

“It makes you look so grown up, Popkins,” Petunia replied adoringly as she smoothed his hair.

Dudley scowled and took another bite of the ice cream.

Harry was sitting on the stairs, trying to avoid being noticed, and reading the rest of the Daily Prophet. He had managed to avoid anymore work and was enjoying the chance to read the paper, but there was nothing else about Voldemort or the Death Eaters, just trivial news about wizards around the country.

Harry went to his room and put the paper away. Hedwig, his snowy white owl, was asleep in her cage. And suddenly, it hit him. Hedwig! Aunt Marge was coming and she didn’t know he had an owl and if she saw her, she’d surely find out that he, Harry, was a wizard. He couldn’t imagine the repercussions of that.

He quickly scrambled to his desk, got out a piece of parchment, a quill pen, and some ink and began to write a letter to his friend Ron.

Dear Ron,

Sorry to bother you, but could you take care of Hedwig for me for about a week? My Aunt Marge is coming over soon. Yeah, she is the one I blew up a few years ago, in case you were wondering.

Thanks a bunch Ron.

Harry

“Hedwig,” he whispered, “wake up. You’ve got to go to Ron’s. Hedwig. Hedwig. Hedwig!”

The owl shook away, giving him an irritated look. “You’re going to have to stay with Ron for awhile, okay?”

She gave him a reproachful look. “It’s only for a week. Aunt Marge is currently on her way. You’ve got to go.”

She stuck out her leg and let him tie the letter on her. “Thanks, Hedwig. Have fun at Ron’s,” he said and ushered the bird out the window not a moment too soon. He heard a car door slam.

“Potter, get down here! Aunt Marge is here!” Aunt Petunia yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Harry walked slowly and reluctantly down the stairs. Through the front door he could see Aunt Marge’s form get bigger and bigger. He hesitated on the last step before Aunt Petunia ordered, “Don’t just stand there, open the door!”

He stepped off the last step and opened the door, immediately trying to hide behind it. “Petunia, darling!” was the first thing beefy Aunt Marge said as she dropped all of her luggage and kissed Aunt Petunia on the cheek.

Marge looked just like Uncle Vernon and even had a mustache, albeit a thin one.

“Hello Marge. Wonderful to see you again,” said Petunia, returning the gesture.

“And where’s my neffy-poo Dudder’s?” Marge asked in her usual gruff voice.

Right on cue, Dudley waddled out with a big fake smile plastered on his face. “Aunt Marge!” he yelled in false delight.

Marge wrapped her beefy arms halfway around Dudley. Harry rolled his eyes. When Dudley stepped away he was holding a crisp twenty pound note.

Uncle Vernon walked in with Marge’s bulldog, Ripper. “Get her luggage, boy, and take it to her room,” he ordered.

Harry complied just as Marge rounded on him. “Vernon, Petunia, you mean to tell me that you still must take care of him?”

Harry bit his lip to keep from retorting. He continued to gather Aunt Marge’s things as Vernon steered her away. “Unfortunately, St. Brutus’s won’t take him for the whole year, no matter how many times we ask.”

“I’d keep asking if I were you. Honestly, having to keep that miserable scruffy boy. I tell you, Vernon, I’d have sent him to the orphanage straight away.”

Harry grabbed the last of her things with a scowl and took them upstairs to the guest bedroom. He dropped them off in her room and then stepped out, lingering in the hallway, deciding whether or not to go back downstairs.

His decision was made for him when he heard, “Boy, get down here!”

He sighed. With Hedwig gone, he had lost all connection with the wizarding world. He’d stop his subscription to the Daily Prophet in the morning. He was officially alone.

He walked slowly back downstairs into the kitchen where Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and Aunt Marge were having tea. Ripper was lying on the floor by Marge’s feet.

“…and then the attendant just walked away. I never did get a pillow,” Aunt Marge was saying.

“That’s awful,” Petunia said. “Whatever happened to good service?”

“That’s just what I was wondering,” Marge said gruffly. “I’ll be writing a letter to the train company when I get home.”

“As you very well should,” said Vernon in the same manner as Marge. He looked up and saw Harry. “Well it’s about time. Get us some more tea, boy.”

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” he said tonelessly as he grabbed the teapot off the stove.

He stopped at Marge first, who took the teapot roughly from his hands and said, “I’ll do it. You’ll just mess it up.”

Harry bit his tongue and stood by, waiting to receive the pot back, but Marge passed it on to Vernon who said, “Sit down boy.”

Harry obeyed and sat down between Aunt Petunia and Dudley, who took the opportunity to kick him hard in the shins. Harry winced, but didn’t say a word.

Aunt Marge was studying him closely. “I see he’s pretty silent now, eh? Finally got the mutt trained.”

Harry quickly removed his hands from the table, which were making fists.

Vernon eyed Harry closely. “Oh, it depends. I’d like to think St. Brutus’s has broken his spirit, but he’s practically the same as he’s always been.”

“Still a rude and ungrateful little maggot then, is he?” Marge sneered. “I should have expected nothing less.

Harry looked down at the table. Think about Hogwarts. Think about Quidditch. Think about flying. Think about Ron and Hermione. Think about Hagrid.

“Nothing like my good neffy-poo Dudders, is he? I bet when you’re not watching he smokes marijuana and snorts cocaine.”

Think about Hogwarts. Think about Quidditch. Think about flying. Think about Ron and Hermione. Think about Hagrid.

“You know, I’ve never thought of that. Petunia, perhaps you and I should go check out his room sometime to see if he has any of that filth in our house.”

Think about Hogwarts. Think about Quidditch. Think about flying. Think about Ron and Hermione. Think about Hagrid.

“Oh, I’d bet anything he’s into that garbage,” Marge said. “Just look at his parents. Weirdoes, lowlifes, scum.”

Think about Hogwarts. Think about Quidditch. Think about flying. Think about Ron and Hermione. Think about Hagrid.

“He’s probably got loads of junk he shouldn’t have up there in that room of his,” she finished.

Think about Hogwarts. Think about Quidditch. Think about flying. Think about Ron and Hermione. Think about Hagrid.

“I thought I saw him looking at a dirty magazine once,” Dudley said loudly, causing all of them to turn and look at Harry with the utmost revulsion.

“What!” Harry cried. He could not keep his silence any longer. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I saw it. He was in his room flipping through the pages. I was going to tell you before, but I didn’t know if he had seen me looking at him. I was scared,” Dudley continued to lie, his eyes focused on Harry with glee.

Harry jumped up out of his seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Dirty magazines, ha! Then what’s underneath your bed, huh? And not only that, you’re the one whose been lying about going out for tea! You hang out with Piers and your gang, beat up little kids, and smoke on street corners!”

Aunt Petunia looked shocked by the outburst while Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge looked furious. “Come with me, boy!” Vernon shouted, grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck and leading him out of the kitchen.

“Who the hell do you think you are, telling such lies about Dudley like that?” he bellowed.

“I’m not telling lies, unlike your precious son,” Harry shot back. “If you want proof go look underneath his bed or check the pockets of his leather coat.”

“YOU’RE A FILTHY ROTTEN LIAR!” roared Aunt Marge, who was now standing in the doorway. “If I were you, Vernon, I’d kick him out.”

Petunia now was also standing in the doorway, partially blocked by the huge form of Aunt Marge.

“Yes, yes, that sounds like and excellent idea, Marge,” Vernon agreed, nodding his purple head. “I’ve been saying for months it’s high time you go where you belong, boy—the streets!”

“So, you want me out?” Harry asked, enraged. “Fine. I’ll leave here. I will. But I have to inform some people first.”

“Who? Who must you inform? Your parole officer?” Aunt Marge said with a cackle.

“Oh, you would think so,” Harry replied sourly. “No, just a friend of mine. Y’know, Uncle Vernon, the one you met last month when you came to pick me up from the train station. My good friend Mad-Eye.”

Vernon went from purple to pale and then yelled, “YOU DON’T HAVE ANY FRIENDS, POTTER.”

“Shows how little you know. Now, I’m going to go write my friends and pack.” He frowned. “I pity you, actually. Mad-Eye and Moony aren’t going to be too happy when they hear about this. Nope. Then there’ll be hell to pay. I’d love to see what they’d do to you,” he said, pointing at Marge.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THAT WAY TO MARGE, YOU FOUL LITTLE INGRATE!” Vernon roared.

Harry turned. “What, I’m leaving, so I don’t have to care anymore.”

“GET OUT!”

“Just as soon as I go write Mad-Eye and my friend’s dad about all of this. I’m sure he’ll take me in.” He then looked at Petunia. “Sorry, Aunt Petunia, but you broke your promise. Terrible thing too. Who knows what’s going to happen now.”

“Vernon,” Petunia called quickly as Harry started for the steps, “he’s under age.” There was a slight quaver to her voice. “We are his legal guardians and we could get in trouble. He must stay.”

“Nonsense, Petunia,” said Aunt Marge. “Let the son-of-a-bitch go. He deserves it. I bet the police will catch him and throw him in prison. He belongs there.”

“I can’t,” said Aunt Petunia painfully. “As much as I hate it, he’s my sister’s son. He’s blood, as filthy as he is. We cannot in good conscious leave him for dead.”

“Even though he’s a menace to society? A good-for-nothing lowlife who’s leeching off of you and Vernon?” Marge said, clearly not understanding.

“He’s blood,” Petunia repeated, sounding miserable. “Harry, you’re staying.”

“Fine, whatever. If I must,” Harry replied as he leaned against a wall.

“You ungrateful little brat!” yelled Marge. “Honestly, Petunia, you’re much too soft. Let the little wart go. He’s suited for a life of crime, there’s nothing you can do.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, yeah, I’m the criminal.” He shot a glance at Dudley. “I’m taking away your light, Dud. How about that.”

“Enough of your foolish lies about my son!” Vernon bellowed. “Petunia, darling, are you sure about this?”

“He must stay,” Petunia insisted.

“Quit fooling yourself, Petunia. Let the hellion go. There’s no need to support him anymore. I’m quite sure he’s probably got enough money from pick pocketing around the neighborhood. How often do you let him out?” said Marge.

“I’m allowed out whenever I want,” Harry answered for Aunt Petunia.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, BRAT!” Marge shouted.

“Yes, Aunt Marge,” he said in a mock polite voice.

“Stop that!” yelled Uncle Vernon. “Or you’ll be sleeping in a box.”

“What, you mean he won’t be sleeping in a box?” Marge asked, looking astounded. “Hell, I’d make him sleep in the mud.”

“No, we can’t. He will, however, be staying in his room,” Petunia said.

“For the rest of the summer. And you won’t disturb any of us again,” Vernon added to Harry.

“Of course not,” he said with a mock bow. “Now why would I want to irritate such pleasant people such as yourselves?” he asked with a sarcastic sweetness in his voice.

“Keep it up, boy, and I may not send you back to St. Brutus’s, if you get my meaning,” Uncle Vernon threatened.

Harry clasped a hand over his heart. “You wouldn’t!” he cried out in false anguish.

Obviously, that was not the reaction Vernon expected. “BOY! Keep it up and it will be prison for you.”

“He’s enjoying this far too much, Vernon,” Aunt Marge scowled. “Send him away now. Prison will be good for him.”

“People,” Harry said, grabbing their attention, “prison is nothing. I mean, come on! Don’t you realize that I already live in hell?”

Vernon looked like he was going to leap at Harry when Petunia squeezed her way out from behind Marge and placed a hand on Vernon’s huge shoulder. “Forget it, Vernon. He’s just trying to rattle you. Just leave him alone and let’s all go into the kitchen and have some lunch, okay?”

Vernon snorted, but nodded. “Don’t expect any food for awhile, Potter!” he yelled.

“Absolutely not, sir. After all, you never fed me very well anyway. That’s why I’m the toothpick and Dudley’s the…well, what would be a good word for him? Hmm, elephant’s not big enough. Hmm, maybe a blue whale. I don’t know. Something big like that though.”

“Watch your mouth, Potter,” Vernon sneered.

“Certainly. Oh, and Big D, if you happen to see any of your gang today, tell them I said hello. Oh, and tell your latest victim that it’s not their fault you’re beating them up—it’s just that you’ve been so spoiled that you don’t know any better.”

Dudley walked slowly towards the steps and Harry stood calmly, watching his every move. “You think you’re so clever, Dudley,” he went on. “It’s quite pathetic. Step on that stair and I will have to hurt you,” he said casually, bringing his hand up to his pocket and patting it. Dudley stopped immediately.

“Vernon, he’s got a knife!” Marge shrieked.

“A knife? Hardly,” he replied. “I’ve got my wa—”

“GET UP THERE, NOW!” Vernon roared, looking paler than ever. “Dudley, get back over here.”

Dudley did as he was told as Uncle Vernon eyed Harry angrily. “If you don’t get up there now, boy, I will make you get up there.”

Harry smirked. “Oh, I’m so scared,” he replied sarcastically.

“GO!” Vernon ordered.

Harry yawned loudly. “What? I don’t think I heard you.”

“VERNON, HARRY, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Aunt Petunia screamed at the top of her lungs. Both stopped. “Vernon, come back down and leave him alone. Harry, go to your room and leave us alone, please.”

Harry looked from Aunt Petunia’s pleading face to Uncle Vernon’s purple one and back again, realizing that enough damage had been inflicted. Not only that, but Harry now felt weary. He nodded. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely,” he muttered and headed up the stairs, leaving the Dursleys to gape after him.

Author’s Note: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. I’m truly flattered to see that you all think so highly of my work and I hope that I will be able to live up to your expectations as this story goes on. Well, on with the next chapter!

CHAPTER THREE

O.W.L.S AND INVITATIONS

Harry didn’t get any food for the next two days in which he spent all of his time locked up in his room. The third day, Aunt Petunia walked in to discuss certain things with Harry.

“Vernon and I have come to the conclusion that if you promise not to make any more trouble, we will let you out of your room. But, you are not allowed out of this house and you are not allowed to talk unless spoken to. Understood?”

He frowned. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“Good. You can come out at noon. Oh, and one last thing—stay away from Dudley,” she said coldly.

“Certainly,” he muttered as she closed his door. Great, he thought to himself. I can spend time with a wicked hag that I have to call ‘aunt’.

He would rather continue his punishment.

But then again, the Dursleys knew he hated Aunt Marge, so maybe it was their way of torturing him. The more he thought about it, the more he figured it was most likely the case.

A tapping at his window diverted his attention and he looked up to see a brown barn owl outside.

What’s this about? he wondered.

He opened his window and let the owl inside. It flew in and landed on top of his desk chair, an envelope clutched in its beak. He quickly removed it and the owl spread its wings and took off once again.

Harry quickly closed the window and then looked down at the letter, his eyes widening when he saw it was from the Ministry of Magic. His O.W.L. results had arrived.

He gulped and set the letter down, not wanting to look at it. The only scores he felt confident in were his Defense Against the Dark Arts scores; otherwise, it was a toss up.

What if he didn’t have enough O.W.L.s to become an Auror? His chosen career path would be over before it had even begun. What would he do then? The only other thing he was really good at was Quidditch. Maybe he’d become a professional Quidditch player. He doubted that they needed to have high O.W.L. scores. All they needed was talent, and Harry had quite a bit of talent when it came to being the Seeker on his House team.

But what if he did have enough to become an Auror? Then he’d have to prepare for his N.E.W.T. level classes, and what if he failed those?

Stop it, he chided himself. You’re beginning to sound like Hermione. Just open the stupid thing.

He picked up the envelope carefully, like it was the most fragile thing in the world. Opening it, he slipped the parchment inside out and, closing his eyes, opened it.

Please let me have enough. Please let me have enough, he prayed and opened his eyes.

The scores were set up in boxes, telling him which classes he had taken the tests in and what he received in both his written and practical examinations. Then there was a column of boxes for the O.W.L.s he had gotten out of each test.

He quickly looked down at the “Total” box and felt his eyes go wide. He sat down on his bed in shock.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered and a grin spread across his face.

In the “Total” box was a large number ten.

“I got ten,” he breathed. “Ten.”

He knew that was good. His score was one below Ron’s older brother Charlie, who was prefect during his days at Hogwarts. He couldn’t believe his good fortune.

“Ten,” he repeated and then jerked his head up to the sound of more scratching at his window. Another owl, an eagle owl this time, was waiting for him.

“If Uncle Vernon sees this I’m a dead man,” Harry muttered to himself as he opened the window and let the owl inside.

The owl soared around his room and dropped another envelope on his desk, this time with emerald ink, then flew back out the window.

Harry closed his window again and studied the envelope on his desk. He knew whom it was from, or rather, where it was from, but why would Hogwarts be sending him a letter?

Shrugging, he picked up the envelope and opened it, taking out a short note and reading it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Congratulations on getting enough O.W.L.s to become an Auror. I knew you had it in you somewhere.

Sincerely,

Prof. M. McGonagall

Harry smiled. While Professor McGonagall was by no means his favorite teacher (although she had been this past year due to her dealings with Professor Umbridge), the support she had shown him made him feel better about himself. He just couldn’t believe that he had done it; he had gotten enough O.W.L.s to go on and try to become an Auror.

He didn’t even realize the time when he heard the clock downstairs strike twelve noon. It was quickly followed up by his uncle yelling, “Potter, get down here!”

Harry put the letter down and walked out of his room with a little bounce to his step. It was the happiest he had felt in a long time, but it was instantly shattered by the sound of Aunt Marge’s voice asking, “What’s got you in a good mood?”

“Food,” Harry lied.

Uncle Vernon, who was sitting next to Aunt Marge in the living room, laughed. “You’re not getting anything yet, boy. Come over here now. I want to talk to you.”

Harry entered the living room soundlessly and stood before Uncle Vernon. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

“Before you can eat anything, Potter, you’re going to work off the damage you did. I first want you to clean up the backyard,” he said gruffly.

“Poor Ripper’s had the runs,” Aunt Marge sneered.

“And after that,” Vernon continued, “I want you to cut the hedge outside. It’s starting to look dreadful. And while you’re out there, you can weed the flowerbed for your Aunt Petunia. And after that, you can mow the lawn. When you are done with all of that, then you may eat.”

“Yes, sir,” came Harry’s automatic response. “May I at least get a glass of water first, sir?”

“Hell no you can’t get a glass of water!” Marge scowled. “Get to work, boy!”

Thinking of his O.W.L. scores and the little food he might receive after all of this, he bowed his head slightly and headed for the backyard.

Ripper was out there, squatting and making a new pile of mess for Harry to clean up. Harry sighed and got himself a bag and a shovel. When Ripper noticed him, he ran over to him, barking loudly.

Harry scowled. “Shut up you dumb dog,” he muttered and began to clean up. Ripper continued to bark and started to bear his teeth. “One of these days, Dog, I’m going to chase you up a tree. See how you like that,” he growled as he shoveled up more dog feces.

Ripper followed him all around the yard, barking, growling, and showing Harry his sharp teeth. Harry continued to clean up the yard, wishing with each passing minute that he could just kick the dog and walk away.

When Harry finished, he set down the shovel and headed to the garbage to throw the bag away. Just as he lifted the lid, he saw it, out of the corner of his eye—Ripper squatting again.

“You damn dog,” Harry spat as he grabbed the shovel again.

Ripper growled as Harry walked over to clean up Ripper’s latest mess. And as Harry finished, Ripper finally struck, biting Harry in the leg.

“Owww!” he yelled, dropping to one knee. He checked the wound quickly and grit his teeth in anger when he found blood. Ripper started to growl again.

And suddenly, the dog pounced, but Harry was too quick. Ripper landed on the ground with a thump and a yelp.

Not even a second had passed when Harry heard the back door open and Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Aunt Marge come out.

“What the devil—” Uncle Vernon started but was cut off by Aunt Marge’s cry of anguish.

“Ripper!” she moaned. She ran over and crouched by her beloved dog. “What happened? What…” And then she saw Harry. “You!”

“He attacked me,” Harry said, trying not to let the anger seep into his voice.

“What have you done to my Ripper?” Marge demanded.

“Nothing. This time he missed me, that’s all,” Harry replied.

“Missed you? What do you mean, he missed you?” Uncle Vernon interrogated.

Harry showed Vernon his bloody leg. “He didn’t get me the second time around.”

Aunt Marge was hovering over her dog. “Did he hurt you, my dear? Where did the little bastard hurt you?”

“Get back to your room now,” Vernon ordered. “And you can forget about that food.”

“He doesn’t have rabies or anything, does he? I may need a tetanus shot,” Harry said, the last sentence coming out sarcastically as he got back up on his feet. “But then again, you wouldn’t care if I died, now would you?”

“I’m not taking you to a bloody hospital, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vernon snapped back. “I’m sure you deserved it. But make sure you clean yourself up. I wouldn’t want blood all over my house.”

“Yeah, that’s a shame, because I have eight pints just waiting to decorate your walls,” he snapped back as he headed in the house. Petunia followed him.

“Sit down,” she ordered as she moved about the cupboards, taking out gauze and a nasty looking can of spray.

Harry sat down on one of the kitchen chairs as she took one out and sat down in front of him. She picked up his leg and hoisted up his pant leg to where the wound was. Then she shook the can, aimed, and sprayed.

Tears formed in his eyes as he squinted them shut, trying to block out the stinging pain the spray caused. He opened them once he felt Aunt Petunia start to wrap his leg.

“Tell me, Potter, why do you get yourself into so much trouble?” she asked as she wrapped his leg in a rough manner.

He winced in pain. “I don’t go getting myself into trouble,” he replied. “Trouble usually finds me.”

“That’s for sure,” Petunia muttered and finished wrapping his leg. “There, now go to your room.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” he said and got up. But before he went through the doorway, he turned back and studied his aunt for a moment. “Thanks,” he said suddenly.

Petunia looked up, startled by the politeness. “You’re welcome,” she replied and stared at the doorway, long after Harry was gone.

*****

Harry lay on his bed later on that afternoon, thinking about his friends, Hogwarts, Voldemort, but mostly about Sirius.

He looked over at the broken two-way mirror that lay on his desk, wondering if he should just chuck it. Sirius more than likely had the other, so the mirror was useless to Harry. Yet for some odd reason, he held on to it.

There was a tap at his door and then it opened, revealing Aunt Petunia. She was holding a plate of what appeared to be a ham sandwich. Harry sat up and eyed her in bewilderment.

She walked in and set the plate down on his desk, brought out his chair, and sat. “There,” she said none too gently, “so you can tell that freak group of yours that we do feed you.”

So that was the reason behind her bandaging up his leg and now bringing him up some food.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the plate off of the desk and then taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“You know, Potter, sometimes I don’t understand you. Why are you being so polite all of a sudden?” she asked waspishly.

He chewed and swallowed before answering. “Although you won’t believe it, I really am a polite person. And I’m usually nicer too.”

She scowled. “You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged. “You’d just have to ask my friends. They know.”

“What? That you’re some charming gentleman?” she shot back.

“That if I’m given respect, I’ll return it,” he corrected. “But that doesn’t happen here a lot, so I am the way I am.”

“You want respect?” she nearly shrieked. “How do you expect any of us to respect you when you’re a—you’re a—”

“Wizard,” he finished for her. She scowled again, but said nothing.

“I’m still surprised I came out the way I did,” he continued. “That is, the good side of me. I shouldn’t have been a very kind person at all, what with growing up in a house where no one has ever showed me love or even compassion. I suppose that all changed once I became eleven, and met good people, like the Weasleys. They’re far too good for me.”

Her nostrils flared in disgust, so Harry figured it was about time to end their little conversation. “Is there another reason why you came in here, Aunt Petunia?”

She looked rather hesitant. Finally, she asked him, “Those people who died in Bristol—you know who killed them, don’t you?”

He looked down in sorrow. With a heavy sigh, he nodded his head. “It was the followers of Lord Voldemort, better known as Death Eaters.”

She turned her head away, but Harry did catch a glimpse of what was that? Bitterness?

“Isn’t that Lord What’s-His-Name the one who wants to kill you?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he replied.

She got up then and placed the seat back underneath the desk. As she took a look around, her eyes narrowed. “Clean up this mess,” she ordered and then left the room, leaving Harry stunned.

What an odd conversation that had been.

*****

The next day found Harry finishing his Transfiguration homework and cleaning up his room so Aunt Petunia wouldn’t yell at him again if she came back in. He was in a better mood that usual, however, because Aunt Marge would be leaving the next morning.

Just as he finished straightening his room, Hedwig flew in through the open window and landed on her cage. When Harry walked over to her, she stuck out her leg to reveal a letter.

“So that’s why you came back,” he said and untied the letter from her leg. “Did Ron decide to send me a letter?”

He sat down and opened the letter, but the letter wasn’t from Ron, it was from Hermione.

“Ron sent you to go pick up Hermione’s letter, huh?” Harry said as he began to read.

Dear Harry,

How are you? How are you feeling? Ron told me that your Aunt Marge is visiting. I do hope everything’s all right. Please don’t try to blow her up again.

Did you get your O.W.L. results yet? I got them yesterday and you’ll never believe it. I got twelve O.W.L.s! Can you believe it? I didn’t expect that many, but I’m excited that I did. Mum and Dad are so pleased.

The Weasleys have invited me over and I should be going next week. You should be expecting a letter from Ron soon about the subject.

Stay safe and I can’t wait to hear from you.

Love from

Hermione

Harry smiled. Hermione was going to the Weasleys and Ron was going to write him a letter inviting him too. Excellent, he’d get away from the Dursleys.

He looked down at Hermione’s letter again. He was proud of her for getting twelve O.W.L.s. She studied very hard and had to endure more tests than either Harry or Ron because of the classes she took. She deserved it.

He looked back up at Hedwig. “You can’t stay very long,” he told her. “Aunt Marge is still here. I’ll write a letter for you to take back to Hermione, then go to Ron’s again, okay?”

Hedwig hooted softly. Harry quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and his quill pen and began to write his response.

Dear Hermione,

Congratulations! Twelve O.W.L.s—wow! You beat me, I got ten. I imagine we’ll be in a lot of N.E.W.T. classes together, huh?

I haven’t received a letter from Ron yet, but there’s still plenty of time. I want to leave here so bad. I’m currently on punishment for my aunt’s dog biting me. But don’t worry, it looks to be healing nicely.

Hope to see you soon.

Harry

“Here you go,” he said to Hedwig as he finished up. “Take this to Hermione, then return to Ron.”

Hedwig was flying away just as the door opened and Aunt Petunia walked in with some food for him. She scanned the room, sniffed, then left.

Harry sat down with his plate and looked over his homework. He had completed his History of Magic essay, his Herbology essay, his Astronomy charts, his Charms essay, and just this morning completed his Transfiguration essay. That left one thing: his Potions essay.

The fact that Harry only had one more assignment left was a shocker itself. Harry usually never had more that three of his assignments done before his birthday, which was coming up soon—just a week from that upcoming Tuesday.

He grabbed his Potions book and started through it, preparing for his essay on healing potions. By the time the sun started to set he was halfway through it. He decided to stop there and wait for the next day to finish it. He put all of his stuff away and then laid down on his bed.

His stomach rumbled. Aunt Petunia hadn’t been back since earlier and he was beginning to get hungry again. He’d endure. After all, if he could go two days without food, then surely he could go a couple of more hours.

He didn’t budge until he heard a twittering enter his room through his open window. He jumped up and saw what was making the noise—a small gray owl.

He frowned. “Pig, come here.”

Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl, fluttered around Harry’s room until Harry jumped up and snatched him right out of the air. Pigwidgeon then stuck out his leg for Harry to get his letter.

“Thank you, now be quiet,” Harry ordered as he tore open the letter from Ron.

Dear Harry,

Sorry to hear about your aunt visiting. How’s it going? Hedwig’s been fine here with Errol and Pig. Hope you don’t mind that Hermione’s going to borrow her. We figured you wouldn’t, seeing as you won’t need Hedwig for the week.

Anyway, want to come and spend the rest of the holiday at my house? Mum and Dad agreed and Hermione will be coming too. Mum and Dad are trying to get things squared away even as I write this letter, but it might take some time. I doubt you’ll need the Muggles’ permission, but you may want to tell them. Don’t know why, but Mum said to tell you that. If everything’s okay then we will pick you up on your birthday, but I’ll send another letter along anyway to let you know if you can come.

Be prepared to practice Quidditch. Can’t wait for you to come. I’ll write you back as fast as I can.

Ron

Pigwidgeon was still hooting when Harry finished. “Jeez, stop already,” Harry commanded as he took out a piece of parchment and his quill. He dipped it in ink and started to write back to Ron.

Dear Ron,

Life sucks here. The first day Aunt Marge came she started throwing insults at me when I hadn’t even said anything to her. Then my cousin tried to get me into trouble. I got two days for that. Then, when I’m freed, that woman’s dog bites me. He tried to do it again, but I moved and he got hurt. So now I’m in trouble for that. My leg looks terrible, but don’t tell that to your parents or Hermione. I wrote back to Hermione telling her that it was healing fine, which it is, but it’s ugly.

I’d love to come to your house, why do you even ask? I’m assuming arrangements must be made before I can come. I hope everything’s fast. I need to get out of here, now! And don’t worry, I doubt the Dursleys will even care when I leave.

I take it things are going well over there. I’m not really asking because you can tell me all about what’s up when you pick me up.

See you soon.

Harry

“There, go, take this to Ron,” he said, folding his letter up and tying it around Pigwidgeon’s leg. Pigwidgeon started to fly around and circled in his room. “Come on, get going,” Harry urged, “before I get in trouble.”

He forced the tiny owl out his window and watched him fly off. The sun was completely down now.

He sighed. Once arrangements were made with Professor Dumbledore, or, at least that’s who he was guessing the Weasleys needed permission from, he’d be able to rejoin the wizarding world again.

He yawned, pulled off his shirt, and laid down on his bed. Soon, he was fast asleep.

Author’s Notes: Just a bit a housecleaning. Once again, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. You guys are the coolest! Um, I was asked what Ron got on his O.W.L.s and I just wanted to say that you all should sit tight, you’ll find out soon enough. Okay, enough housecleaning. Here’s the next chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR

STRANGE MOODS

He was in the Department of Mysteries, standing before the veiled arch, listening. He could hear whispers from those behind the ratty veil, but he waited to hear just one voice.

“Harry?” came an echo from beyond the veil.

“Sirius?” he asked, stepping closer.

“It’s your fault, Harry. It’s your fault I died.”

“No, no, please. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he tried to explain to the echo behind the veil.

“You killed me, Harry. I died because of you. You should have stayed at Hogwarts, but you are too much a hero. Everyone you love will die because of you.”

“No, please. You weren’t supposed to die, Sirius. I didn’t mean for you to die,” he begged, getting down on his knees in front of the arch.

“You failed. You failed me, Harry. You didn’t save me. It’s your fault I’m dead.”

“No, I had to save the proph—”

“You didn’t save me. It’s your fault I’m dead. You killed me.”

“I had to save the prophecy, Sirius. Please don’t—”

“You’re weak. You failed. Others will die because of you. Your friends will suffer greatly because of your stupidity. Good-bye forever, Harry.”

“No, Sirius, wait! Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to end like that. Please, stay!”

“Good-bye, Harry.”

“No, wait! Please, wait. Wait!”

And he woke up, covered in a cold sweat. His lips trembled and a chill ran down his spine. His scar prickled in pain. He closed his eyes tightly to the tears that started to form.

It was true. It was all true. It was his, Harry’s, fault that Sirius had died. If Harry had kept up with his Occlumency lessons, Voldemort wouldn’t have been able to plant that dream in Harry’s mind. Harry wouldn’t have gone to Umbridge’s fireplace and talked to that foul little house-elf, Kreacher. Kreacher wouldn’t have lied to him and Harry wouldn’t have gone off with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood to the Ministry of Magic. Harry wouldn’t have gone to the Department of Mysteries and met the Death Eaters. He would have spared his friends from getting hurt. They never would have lost the prophecy and the Order of the Phoenix would have never needed to arrive. Sirius would never have had to fight his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and he wouldn’t have died. It was all Harry’s fault.

He was the reason why his godfather was dead. He had killed Sirius Black.

The tears fell down his face and splattered onto his bed. I should have listened to Hermione, he thought. Then Sirius would still be alive.

He sucked in a breath. Sirius was like a father to him, and he, Harry, had killed him. It was because of him that his own father was dead.

“Damn prophecy,” he muttered as he wiped the tears away.

Just because of some stupid prophecy Harry was special. Harry was so special that his parents had to die, his godfather had to die, and probably several others had to too.

No, he thought to himself. No more deaths. No one else is going to die because of me. I’m not going to kill another person I care for.

His resolve strengthened and he could feel the anger rise in him. He was going to rip every Death Eater he met apart. He’d make them pay for all of people, wizards and Muggles alike, that they had killed. They would never hurt another person.

He could hear a baby-like voice in his head.

“Ooooh, whittle wee Potty is cwying over his dead godfather. Boo-hoo.”

Lestrange. She was a dead woman.

He laid back down. If he ever saw that woman again, he pull out his wand and mutter the unforgivable curse that would send her to hell.

His anger ebbed somewhat as he started to think about Sirius again and soon, he fell back to sleep.

*****

The next morning found Aunt Petunia knocking on his door loudly, yelling for him to wake up. He could hear Aunt Marge’s voice beyond the door yelling, “Yes, get your bum ass out of bed!”

“Get dressed and then bring your aunt’s luggage down,” Petunia continued. “If you’re quick you might get some breakfast.”

Harry was up faster than a bolt of lightning. The prospect of food, other than the sandwiches Aunt Petunia kept bringing him, made his stomach growl. He was dressed and grabbing Marge’s first suitcase in five minutes.

He gathered everything up and began to make his way through the hallway to the stairs when Dudley tore out of his room, knocked Harry over, and bounded down the stairs as the scent of pancakes floated up to the second floor. Harry’s mouth watered as he rubbed his shoulder. He gathered Marge’s belongings again and headed down the stairs.

Uncle Vernon was just closing the front door after getting the paper. Harry figured that if he were to get any breakfast he might want to try and be genial with the Dursleys.

“Where would you like me to put Aunt Marge’s luggage?” he asked Uncle Vernon before the beefy man could pass by.

Vernon turned towards Harry, his eyes cool and suspicious. “Over by the door,” he replied and continued on his way to the kitchen.

Harry set Aunt Marge’s luggage neatly by the door and then walked into the kitchen. Ripper, who sat by Marge’s feet, growled softly as Harry passed by. Both Aunt Marge and Dudley scowled.

Harry took a seat next to Aunt Petunia and stared at the tall tower of fluffy pancakes. His mouth watered again.

“Well, let’s tuck in, everyone,” Petunia said.

Dudley snatched up five pancakes immediately, while Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge both took two. Aunt Petunia forked up one, leaving two left. Harry waited patiently, not trying to screw up his one chance at the first decent meal for him in a week.

“Go on, Harry,” Petunia said. “You did what I asked.”

“Thank you,” he said gratefully and forked up one of the final two. He poured on a little maple syrup and added some butter.

It took everything in him not to eat ravenously and when he was done his stomach only yearned for more. But he had to keep in his aunt and uncle’s good graces if he wished to go to the Burrow, so he got up and excused himself once his plate was clean.

“What the hell was that?” he heard Aunt Marge ask after he left the kitchen.

“Apparently, Harry feels more polite today,” Petunia responded as Harry made his way up the stairs and back to his room.

He was finishing up his Potions essay when he heard voices from downstairs.

“Good-bye Dudders. You have another good year at Smeltings when you go back,” Aunt Marge was saying.

“I’m going to try for another boxing title,” Dudley said proudly.

“Good boy. Good-bye Petunia, dear.”

“Good-bye Marge. You should come and visit sooner next time,” Petunia said.

“We shall see. Come along Ripper—time to get to the train station.”

“See you in a few hours,” came Uncle Vernon’s voice.

Harry heard the door shut and he sighed in relief. Aunt Marge was finally gone.

He wrote the last couple of sentences to his essay and then packed all of his school books and supplies back in his trunk. He then took out his broomstick servicing kit that Hermione had bought for him years ago for his birthday. He had yet been able to use it on his top-notch broom, the Firebolt. The Firebolt was the best broom in the entire wizarding world, used by some of the most famous professional Quidditch players today. Harry’s Firebolt was still at Hogwarts after being confiscated by Dolores Umbridge, but he could still remember how he felt when he opened it up on Christmas nearly three years ago. Sirius had bought it for him.

The memory of Sirius made him put the servicing kit away quickly.

He turned to his mirror and studied himself closely. His hair was a mess as always and he looked pale, but his jaw line looked a little darker than normal. Taking a closer look, he noticed small black stubble growing on his face. He rubbed it absently and found it to be very coarse.

He wondered what it would be like if he had a beard, or a goatee. People said that growing facial hair could really change a person’s appearance.

Too bad it won’t hide my scar, he thought sourly.

He wondered suddenly how many people would stare at him this year when he went back to Hogwarts. How many people would point at his scar and murmur or laugh? How many people, despite the Ministry and the Daily Prophet announcing that Voldemort was indeed back, would still ridicule him and call him an attention-seeking liar?

He rested his head against his desk. “What I wouldn’t give to not be Harry Potter,” he whispered. Maybe then he would have a normal life, be a normal teenage wizard, and all whom he cared for would still be alive.

He continued to stare into the mirror, at the face of his father and the eyes of his mother. They had died trying to protect him. Sirius had died trying to save him from the Death Eaters.

“I miss you, Sirius,” he whispered as tears formed in his eyes. He turned away from the mirror, went over to his bed and buried his head in his pillow, and stayed like that for hours.

*****

For the next few days, Harry only came out of his room to eat, do his chores, and use the bathroom; otherwise, he stayed in his room, brooding.

None of the Dursleys talked to him, which probably suited both them and Harry fine. He had nothing to say to them and they obviously didn’t care enough to say anything to him.

One week before his birthday, Harry stared out of his window into the clear night sky, where a full moon was in sight. He wondered if Professor Lupin had taken his Wolfsbane potion.

Actually, he wondered about the wizarding world in general. Hedwig had returned the day before and Harry had decided not to continue his subscription to the Daily Prophet. What made him angry was the fact that when Hedwig returned, she did not have a note with her from Ron. No confirmation on whether or not Ron and his parents were going to pick him up from the Dursleys, not even a simple “Hello, how are you doing?” It seemed as though his best friend had dismissed him.

Bitterly, Harry wondered if Hermione had arrived yet at the Burrow. Harry had noticed how Ron’s behavior changed slightly when it came to some aspects of Hermione. Harry even went as far as wondering whether or not Ron had some feelings for their friend. At least it would explain why Ron hadn’t even spared a thought for his supposed “best mate.”

He scowled as he pulled on his bed clothes. Ron and Hermione were probably having a blast at the Burrow. He would bet anything that right now they were settling themselves down and tucking into some of Mrs. Weasley’s great treacle fudge. He stomach growled at the thought.

He laid his head back on his pillow and tightly closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to think about was all of the fun that he was missing out on, but then again, perhaps everyone was right not to want him. Soon, sleep overtook him.

He was at the Burrow, yet he wasn’t. It was like he was a ghost; no one could see him or hear him, although he could see and hear everyone else. Ron and Hermione were sitting in a corner, playing wizard’s chess. Ron, of course, was winning.

“Y’know,” he said as he prodded his castle forward, “I’m so happy Harry’s not here.”

“I know,” Hermione agreed. “Mr. Moody.”

“Without any mad eye,” said Ron and they both laughed heartily.

Ginny walked up to the laughing duo. “Hey, I was just thinking about how great it was not to have the brooding, depressing Harry Potter around.”

“Us too,” Ron said to her. “He hasn’t been any fun since that what’s-his-face Hufflepuff died.”

“Yeah,” muttered Ginny. “What was his name? Delaney?”

Suddenly, with a loud CRACK, Fred and George appeared. “Hello all,” Fred said happily and sat down.

“Did you read today’s paper?” George asked as he brandished the Daily Prophet. “They reckon Potter’s dead.”

“Really?” asked Ron without interest.

“No sign of him. S’pose it’s a good thing,” Fred said while George nodded his head.

“Percy was right, y’know; that boy would have gotten us all killed,” George said.

“I’ll say,” Ron agreed. “I mean, blimey, he got his parents and his godfather killed. We’d all be next.”

“I won’t miss him,” Ginny said as Hermione ordered her bishop to take one of Ron’s pawns.

“Neither will I,” said Fred.

“Nor I,” George said.

Ron smiled. “Hey, I can be ‘Ron Weasley’, not ‘Harry’s friend’. Sounds better, don’t you think?”

“Definitely. And I’ll be known as ‘Hermione Granger’, not ‘That book-worm who hangs with Harry Potter’,” Hermione said happily.

“Fudge!” announced Mrs. Weasley as she entered the room with a tray full of treacle fudge.

“Hey Mum, aren’t you happy that Harry isn’t here?” Ron asked as he took a piece of fudge.

“Oh, dear me, yes. He’s a home wrecker,” Mrs. Weasley said bitterly. “Because of all this You-Know-Who nonsense, we’ve lost poor Percy. Oh well, the Ministry favors us now and Percy will be home soon.”

“Yep. Dad’s getting a promotion,” George said. “Bet it would have happened sooner if we didn’t associate with that Potter.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Weasley murmured. “Now Ron, Ginny, and I suppose you too, Hermione, don’t go talking to that Potter boy. He’s dangerous and he’ll ruin your chances at becoming Head Boy and Quidditch captain, Ron. It’d be a lot better if you were to start talking to that Malfoy boy. You know, Lucius Malfoy’s not so bad once you get to know him…”

“I think Draco’s cute,” Ginny said and Hermione giggled.

Ron sniggered. “Don’t worry, Mum. We won’t go associating ourselves with murderers any longer. In fact, if I have to, I’ll hex Potter to the next century.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled adoring down at her youngest son. “Wonderful.”

“POTTER! POTTER! WAKE UP BOY AND SHUT THAT BLOODY BIRD UP!”

Harry awoke immediately and looked over at Hedwig, who was hooting loudly, also trying to wake Harry up. At the window, Pigwidgeon fluttered and tapped his beak against the window like a woodpecker, trying to get into the room.

“Okay, okay, I’m up,” Harry muttered and rubbed his eyes. His dream about the Weasleys and Hermione had been unsettling; the last thing he wanted was a letter from Ron.

He opened the window and Pigwidgeon flew in, dropping a letter on Harry’s bed. He then started circling the room at a very fast pace.

Harry sat down on the bed and started at Ron’s letter for a moment, then opened it and began to read.

Dear Harry,

Sorry for the long wait, mate, but it took a while to convince Dumbledore to let you come. He finally said yes, though, so you’re coming! Hermione will be arriving tomorrow and Dad has actually gotten a car for us to borrow to come to your house. We remembered what happened last time when we tried to floo there. Anyway, we’ll pick you up on your birthday around noon. See you then!

Ron

So he was going. Ron’s father, Mr. Weasley, was going to come and pick him up in a car on his birthday. The Weasleys really did want him over. He felt suddenly guilty for the dream he had.

He’d have to tell the Dursleys. While they really wouldn’t care, they wouldn’t be happy if Harry abruptly left. Plus, he’d have to notify the Order, even though he imagined Dumbledore would, but Harry needed to write another letter soon anyway, or one of the members might be on his doorstep the next day, demanding to see if Harry was alright.

First things first, he had better go down and tell the Dursleys. After sending Pigwidgeon away, he pulled on some clothes and opened the bedroom door, sighing deeply. He hoped that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were in a good mood.

Slowly, he headed down towards the kitchen, where the Dursleys were having breakfast. He walked in saying nothing and sat in a chair. He didn’t take any of the food lying on the table even though his insides screamed for him to do so.

“What do you want?” asked Uncle Vernon gruffly as he took a bite out of a sausage link.

He might as well get it over with. “I—er—was wondering if I could go to my friend’s house for the rest of the summer. His parents invited me.”

Uncle Vernon stared at him coldly for a moment. “It’s not those freaks who destroyed half my living room two years ago and then threatened me earlier this summer, is it?”

“Er—Yeah, it is.”

“Then no. I don’t want them coming over here again the way they came last time,” Vernon said as he shoved a mouthful of pancakes in his mouth.

“But they said that they’re coming by car this time,” Harry protested. “They’re not coming by Floo Powder.”

“Floo Powder? What the devil is Floo Powder?”

“That’s the stuff the used last time to come by the fireplace,” Harry explained.

“Those two boys won’t be coming, will they?” asked Dudley nervously. He had stopped eating the moment Harry made his request.

“I don’t know. They own a shop now, so they might be there,” Harry replied honestly, then turned back to Uncle Vernon. “Please?”

“By car you say they’re coming? It doesn’t fly, does it?” Vernon asked warily.

“I don’t know. I think Mr. Weasley is getting one from the Ministry.”

“The what?”

Harry sighed. This was beginning to get annoying. “The Ministry of Magic.”

“Oh. That government thing you people have.”

“Can I go?”

Uncle Vernon sat back. “I don’t know. You haven’t been very good this summer.”

“Let him go, Vernon. We won’t have him around then,” Aunt Petunia said. Harry looked over at her and expected a malevolent stare, but instead, she looked as though she were concerned. But what about?

“Fine. When are they picking you up?” Vernon asked.

“Next Tuesday around noon,” Harry said.

“Fine, you can go.”

Harry decided it would be a good time to leave. “Thank you,” he said as he got up and headed back to his room.

*****

In the afternoon, Harry was just sending Hedwig out with his letter to the Order of the Phoenix when Aunt Petunia called him down. They were the only two people in the house as Uncle Vernon was off at work and Dudley was out with his friends.

He entered the kitchen to find Aunt Petunia making lunch. “Yes?” he asked.

“Sit down,” she ordered and he quickly complied. “What do you want on your hamburger?”

“My what?” he blurted.

“Your hamburger. Ketchup, mustard, pickle?”

“Er—All three, I guess.”

She stood by the counter with two burgers and squeezed on ketchup and mustard. Then she placed three pickles on each and handed the plate over to Harry. Then she went about making her own.

Harry sat there, gaping. What was she doing? When she sat down with her own food and saw that Harry wasn’t eating, she asked, “What, don’t you like hamburgers?”

“No, I like them very much. Why?” he asked and then quickly regretted it.

She looked up at him sharply. “I don’t need a reason why. Eat, you skinny boy.”

He looked down at his plate of food and felt his mouth water. Slowly, he picked up the burger and brought it to his mouth, taking a small bite. The flavor of the meat made his stomach roar and he wanted to devour the whole plate, but he slowed himself down.

“Harry,” Aunt Petunia began, and Harry looked up. He knew there was a reason behind all of this. “Harry, would you tell me about that man…that man that killed Lily…who wants to kill you?”

Harry’s mouth hung open in shock. Never in Harry’s life had Aunt Petunia used his mother’s name. It wasn’t very often that she ever talked about her, and it was never voluntary.

“Voldemort? What about him?” he asked when he recovered.

“Why does he want to kill you?”

Harry set down his burger. He suddenly wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. “I—I’m the only one in the world who can kill him. That’s why he wants me dead.”

“You?” she said skeptically. “Why you?”

“I don’t know…wait—yeah, I do. He did it himself. He chose me to be his adversary.”

“He what?”

“He marked me to be his equal,” Harry told her, totally not convinced that he was actually having this conversation with her.

“Marked you to be his equal? What—you’re lying!” Harry pulled up his bangs to reveal his lightning bolt scar. Aunt Petunia stared. “You mean to tell me that’s why you have your scar?”

He nodded. “My mum and dad died trying to save me that night. I shouldn’t have survived.”

“Obviously you did,” Petunia muttered. “You must so special, to survive whatever that man did to you.”

He stared at her. “You have no idea how much I wish I weren’t special at all. Excuse me,” he said, getting up and leaving Aunt Petunia and his half eaten hamburger behind.

*****

The rest of the week went without incident. On Monday evening, Harry started to pack his trunk in preparation for the Weasleys’ arrival the next day. He was very happy to be leaving the Dursleys’ home. Perhaps then he would finally be able to get his mind off Sirius.

He went to sleep that night hoping against hope that he would not dream of Sirius, that he wouldn’t be plagued by that nightmare so that when the Weasleys’ arrived he’d be happy, or at least, happier than he had been for a long time.

At first, he dreamed that he was out on the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, flying high above the stands on his Firebolt. Below the crowd was cheering as a streak of scarlet grabbed the big red Quaffle and headed off to the three hoops on the other end of the field, guarded by something green. He ignored what was happening in the game completely and kept a look-out for the Golden Snitch, the tiny ball that, as Seeker of the Gryffindor team, Harry was supposed to catch.

He saw a flutter of gold below and quickly dived to catch it. He was flying so fast that the crowd screamed in delight. He was getting closer to the Snitch. All he had to do was reach out and grab it. But when he snatched it out of the air, he found himself with a handful of robes worn by a short, bald, and wheezing man.

“Well?” he asked in a cold, cruel voice.

“It has happened, my lord, it has happened. Your plan is going perfectly,” the wheezing man said, bending in such a ridiculous manner that Harry was sure that if the man bent any lower his nose would brush the floor.

“Excellent,” Harry said in the same cold voice. “As stupid as the Muggle ways are, sometimes they can be useful. She will need attended to. Send forth for her sister. She will take care of her.”

“Yes, master. I will send someone at once,” the man said and turned away, but not before Harry caught a glace at his silver hand. Wormtail.

Harry sat down and placed his fingers together. His whole being was filled with a vile and twisted pleasure. Then, quite suddenly, he let out a high-pitched shriek of chilling laughter. All was going as planned. It would only be a matter of time before the wizarding world bowed down before him again. Slowly, more of those dark, bone-chilling chuckles escaped Harry’s mouth until he woke up, blinded by the pain in his scar and still laughing.

Something had happened, Harry knew at once, and Voldemort was very pleased.

Author’s Notes: I hate to break it to you all, but this is my last prewritten chapter. Don’t worry though. I’m working very hard on the next chapter and am almost finished, but I still need to send it off to my betas. That could take some time. I hope you enjoy this chapter, the final one with the Dursleys, and I will update as soon as possible.

CHAPTER FIVE

PRECAUTIONS

When morning came, Harry woke up and grabbed a quick shower before he went downstairs to get a small bite before the Weasleys came. Reaching the kitchen, he found Aunt Petunia cleaning furiously. Uncle Vernon was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and Dudley was looking up at Harry with a terrified look in his eyes.

“So, those people are coming around noon, correct?” Vernon asked as Harry grabbed a slice of toast.

“They should be,” Harry replied and brought the jam his way.

Vernon grunted and went back to his paper, while Aunt Petunia stopped cleaning and then said, “Harry, come with me into the hallway.”

Harry, feeling a little apprehensive, got up and followed Aunt Petunia out into the hallway where she stood in front of the door to the cupboard underneath the stairs. Petunia fiddled around in her pockets, searching for something. Finally, she produced an envelope. “Here.”

Harry took the envelope out of sheer curiosity. “What’s this for?”

“It is your birthday today, is it not? I thought it was about time you saw this,” she said and walked back into the kitchen, leaving him alone.

Harry looked down at the envelope, which was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley in emerald ink. He stared at it for a few moments until he realized what it was. In awe, he opened it and read:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

I am very deeply sorry to inform you of this, but your sister, Lily, and her husband James were killed last night. They were murdered by a very powerful man who was, and still is, after their son, Harry.

Because of their tragic deaths, young Harry now needs a home and protection. The man who wishes Harry dead will stop at nothing to ensure that your nephew does not live. But there are ways to save the boy.

Mrs. Dursley, your sister died to save her son, which ultimately placed a protection on him. Her blood lives on in Harry, as it lives in you.

I ask you to take little Harry in and make your home his home, thus placing a powerful charm upon your house which may just save Harry’s life. He will not be able to be hurt if you take him in. But if he leaves, the charm shall be destroyed.

I implore you to take your nephew in. He is the last standing tribute to your sister and may ultimately be the only one who can avenge your sister’s murder.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

So that was it; that was the letter Professor Dumbledore sent Aunt Petunia the day he was delivered to number four, Privet Drive. He felt sick with rage at Dumbledore for leaving him with the Dursleys, yet he also felt tears sting his eyes because the Dursleys, no matter how much they didn’t want to, did take him in. Because of his blood connection to Aunt Petunia, he was protected from Lord Voldemort.

He wiped away his tears and, sucking in all emotion, walked back into the kitchen where he finished putting jam onto his toast and began to eat. Aunt Petunia gazed over at him from the chair she was now occupying and he gave a small nod of thanks to her. She blinked in response and Harry assumed that was her way of saying, “You’re welcome.”

After breakfast, Harry cleaned all of the dished while Petunia finished cleaning the house. Uncle Vernon was making a phone call and Dudley was watching some TV show. About a quarter till noon, the Dursleys stopped everything they were doing and sat down in the living room, waiting nervously for the arrival of the Weasleys.

Harry, however, was in his room double-checking his trunk, making sure he had everything. Finally, he turned to Hedwig in her cage.

“You should get going,” he told her as he opened her cage. “The Weasleys will be picking me up any minute. I’ll see you at the Burrow.”

Hedwig nipped at his fingers affectionately as he stroked her head. She then gave a small hoot and took off, leaving Harry behind watching from his window before he gathered up her cage and took a hold on his trunk and began to haul them down the stairs.

Once everything was downstairs and next to the door, he went into the living room and checked the clock. It was exactly twelve noon and Uncle Vernon was looking steamed.

“Where are they?” he demanded. “Can they ever be punctual?”

“Would you rather they try to come by fireplace?” Harry asked smoothly and watched his uncle turn a deep shade of purple. “Or better yet, would you like them to just pop out of thin air?” he asked, knowing full well that if that happened, Harry would not be able to Apparate back with them.

“Potter, I’m warning you now…”

“Stop it now, both of you,” Petunia snapped just as someone knocked on the door.

Dudley jumped. “Is that them?” he asked, terrified.

Harry rolled his eyes and quickly exited before someone else could say something. They knocked again as Harry put his hand on the doorknob, turned, and opened the door to four people, three with bright red hair and one with brown.

“Harry! Happy birthday!” exclaimed his best friend Hermione Granger as she wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug.

“Hey Hermione,” he greeted with a slight laugh and hugged her back, before turning to the other three.

“Happy birthday Harry,” his other best friend Ron Weasley said as he smacked his hand onto Harry’s shoulder. “How’ve you been?”

“Okay,” Harry replied and then greeted the other two. “Hello Ginny, Mr. Weasley.”

“Hello, Harry,” Mr. Weasley returned and shook Harry’s hand enthusiastically.

Harry smiled. “Come on in,” he said and stepped aside, letting the Weasleys and Hermione through. “My relatives are in the living room.”

“Oh, good. I want to go see that cousin of yours,” Mr. Weasley said as he stepped through the doorway. “Lupin told me what happened.”

“It was nothing,” Harry said quickly. “Just a minor altercation.”

Mr. Weasley, who was bald except for the red hair on the sides of his head, nodded slowly. “If that’s the way you see it.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet your cousin,” Ginny whispered to Harry. “If what Fred and George told me is true then this is going to be fun.”

Harry led the group into the living room, where Uncle Vernon jumped up and Dudley’s eyes widened in fear. Aunt Petunia looked rather nervous.

“Ah, Mr. Dursley, how are you?” Mr. Weasley asked as he crossed the living room and shook Uncle Vernon’s hand.

“Er—fine,” Vernon mumbled, obviously taken-aback by Mr. Weasley’s polite question. The last time the two had spoken, Mr. Weasley had threatened him.

“Er—Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, you remember Mr. Weasley.” Harry turned to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. “And I’m sure you remember Ron,” he said and Ron gave a quick grin. “This is Ginny, his sister,” Harry went on, motioning to Ginny, who looked over at Dudley and winked. “And this is Hermione, who I’m sure you’ve met before,” he finished as Hermione gave a shy smile.

“Yes, of course,” Aunt Petunia said apprehensively. “Would anyone like some tea?”

“Oh, I’d love some, thank you,” Mr. Weasley said.

“Me too,” Ginny said, before giving another wink to Dudley.

“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen,” Petunia said and took off.

“Er—Petunia, dear, I’ll help you,” Uncle Vernon said and followed her.

“Yeah, me too,” Dudley said and bolted.

Ginny giggled. “Wow. They certainly couldn’t leave fast enough.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “It seemed like they thought we were going to hex them or something. Mind you, I would—”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded, but she turned to Harry. “How’s your leg?”

“Leg?” he asked.

“In your last letter you said your aunt’s dog bit you. Did it heal as nicely as you told me it was healing?”

Harry actually had forgotten all about his leg. It still hurt occasionally and there was a gigantic bruise, but other than that it didn’t bother him. “It’s okay. I still have a bruise, but it’s okay.”

She regarded him worriedly for a moment and then turned away.

“Got your trunk ready?” Ron asked him.

“Yeah, it’s out in the hall,” Harry replied, glad for the change in subject.

“Good. We just have to wait for the others to get here—”

“Others?” Harry asked.

“Well, yeah. The Order is sending some people to look after you while we go home, just in case something happens,” Ron explained.

“Apparently Dumbledore insisted upon it before he agreed to let you come,” Ginny told him in a hushed tone, all the while stealing glances at her father, who was looking around the Muggle home with great interest.

Harry scowled. “Still worried that the dementors are going to come after me?”

“No,” said Hermione as she stepped up next to Ron, “not dementors. But he is worried about another Death Eater attack.”

“Another? Has there been more since the Bristol attack?” Harry asked anxiously as Mr. Weasley joined them.

The other four looked grim. “Outside of Canterbury,” Mr. Weasley said solemnly. “Two Muggles were dead by the time the Aurors got there, but the Death Eaters were gone.”

“Fudge is terrified,” Ron told him. “Haven’t you been reading the Prophet?”

“No, I decided not to receive it after I sent Hedwig to your house. What else has been happening?”

Mr. Weasley frowned. “We’ll tell you more later,” he said as Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley returned with tea from the kitchen.

“Thank you very much,” Mr. Weasley said as he took the cup Aunt Petunia offered.

“We’ll be leaving as soon as some others arrive,” Harry told them, noting the curious look that was mixed with anger on his uncle’s face.

“Others?” Uncle Vernon asked, horrified.

“Just a precaution,” Mr. Weasley said as Aunt Petunia gave a cup to Ginny. “We can’t be too careful. They should be along shortly.”

Uncle Vernon turned a darker shade of purple and sat down, as did Aunt Petunia. Dudley, however, kept eyeing both Hermione and Ginny. Ginny, who noticed this, gave Dudley a flirty little smile before taking a sip of her tea.

“Such interesting things you Muggles have,” Mr. Weasley said as he sat down with his cup. “Like the fellytone—”

“Telephone,” Hermione corrected automatically.

“Sorry. The telephone, electrickity—”

“Electricity, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione again corrected.

“Oh, yes, silly me. But anyhow, it’s fascinating, all of the things Muggles have invented to get by.”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, everything from refrigerators to e-mail, automobiles to mobile phones. Believe me, Muggles get by all right.”

The Dursleys were staring at Hermione in amazement. “How does a person like you—” Uncle Vernon began.

“Er—Hermione’s a Muggle-born,” Harry explained hastily. “Her parents are Muggles, but she is a witch.”

“You mean you’ve got normal parents?” Vernon blurted.

Hermione looked extremely offended, but Harry said curtly, “Yep, she has normal parents—parents that aren’t prejudice against the wizarding-kind.”

“I didn’t ask you, Potter,” Vernon growled.

There was another knock on the door as he spoke and Ginny went off to go answer the door. Moments later, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody stepped into the room. “What’s going on here?” Lupin asked cautiously, seeing Uncle Vernon’s angry face.

“Mr. Dursley just asked about Muggle-borns.” Mr. Weasley explained, his enthusiasm gone.

Lupin looked puzzled. “Alright, Arthur, you and I will get Harry’s things. The kids and Tonks will come next, followed by Mad-Eye. Got it?”

Mr. Weasley nodded. “Very well. Good day to you,” he said to the Dursleys and left the room, accompanied by Professor Lupin.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks greeted. Her hair, which she could change at will, was short with neon green spikes today and she grinned widely at Harry. “S’pose your summer’s been terrible.”

Harry scowled as he gave a final look over his shoulder at the Dursleys as he and the rest left the living room. “That’s sort of an understatement.”

“Well, now you’re going to have fun,” Ron said enthusiastically as Tonks looked out the door. “I want to practice Quidditch so badly to work on my Keeper skills.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to let me borrow a broom. Mine’s still at Hogwarts,” Harry replied as Tonks ushered them out the door.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron assured as the four piled into the back seat of Mr. Weasley’s car. Very quickly, Mr. Weasley jumped into the driver’s seat and Lupin, Tonks, and Mad-Eye Moody all crammed into the passenger seat. But with the same spell that Harry was sure was used on Mr. Weasley’s old Ford Anglia, everyone was comfortable.

“So what’s been happening?” Harry asked as they took off. “What’s Voldemort been up to?”

Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and Tonks all shuddered. “We don’t know what he specifically is up to, but his Death Eaters have been killing Muggles, as you already know,” Professor Lupin told Harry from the front seat.

“There have been two attacks, right? The one in Bristol and now the one in Canterbury?”

“Well…that’s what we’re hoping,” Lupin said quietly.

Harry looked, wide-eyed, at his fellow companions in the back seat. Ron just shrugged while Hermione looked worried. “What’s the Ministry been up to?” Harry asked.

“Trying to keep the Aurors on top of everything,” Tonks replied. “I’ve got to go to Hogsmeade tonight for protection duty.”

“Protection duty?”

“Yep. We’re trying to prevent anything from happening. There are patrols all over Britain. It’s incredible.”

“Fudge is absolutely terrified,” Mr. Weasley said.

“The funniest thing about it all is how many times he’s apologized to Dumbledore for not believing in him. It has to be over fifty,” Moody told him. “And now he says that he’s going to make it up to him.” He gave a sharp cackle. “Yeah, right.”

Harry sat back, satisfied with the information at the moment. “So how bad was it at the Dursleys’s this year, Harry?” Ron asked him.

“Just about the same as it is every year,” Harry answered and for the first time was able to regard his friends.

Ron looked as if he had grown at least another inch and some of the freckles on his face were starting to disappear. Ginny had gotten her long red hair cut up to just above her shoulders, giving her a slightly more mature, attractive look. Hermione was tanned to a nice golden brown color and had gotten her ears pierced.

“What did you do to your hair?” he blurted.

Ginny giggled. “I got mine cut, you dingbat,” she said.

Harry turned to Hermione. “When did you get your ears pierced?”

“Hmm?” she murmured as she touched one of the earrings. “Oh, a few weeks ago. My parents let me do it.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Ron said, looking at the earrings unscrupulously. “I still can’t believe you actually go for that stuff.”

“There’s nothing wrong with getting your ears pierced,” Hermione grumbled with a scowl. “I don’t see why you have a problem with it.”

Harry, sensing a fight, quickly jumped in the only way he knew how. “I like them. They’re pretty.”

Hermione’s scowl melted away into a bright smile. “Why thank you, Harry.” She shot a triumphant gleam at Ron.

“Whatever,” Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione glared at Ron. “So, Harry,” she said, turning her attention towards him, “were you surprised when you got your O.W.L.s?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t believe it. Congratulations on yours, again.”

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.

“How’d you do, Ron?” Harry asked, leaning forward to look at his other friend.

“Not as well as Hermione, that’s for sure. I got eight. Mum’s a little disappointed I didn’t do as well as Bill or Charlie or Percy—”

“But she’s happy he did better than both Fred and George,” Ginny piped in.

“What’s so wrong with eight?” Harry wondered. “That’s great.”

Ron grinned. “Yeah, I suppose I did do pretty well, didn’t I?”

Harry smiled and turned to look outside. They were out of the city and hurtling along a road in the countryside, heading towards Ottery St. Catchpole, the town in which the Weasleys lived outside of. They passed farms and trees, hills and lakes.

Harry was glad to be away from the Dursleys. He was glad to be in the company of his friends. He was glad to hear what was happening in the wizarding world. He was glad to hear that Fudge had finally found some common sense regarding the Second War. But most of all, he was glad that he would finally have some rest from his dreams about Sirius.

Author’s Notes: Well, I have some more bad news. You all are up-to-date on where I am at in my story. So I beg you to please be very patient with me. I promise to make it worth your while. The only good news I can offer is that in a week I’ll be on vacation, which means I can spend morning, noon, and night on this. Sadly, my betas will be out of town for that same week. Thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews!

CHAPTER SIX

BIRTHDAY AT THE BURROW

By the time they reached the Burrow, the group had exhausted every subject they could safely talk about. Harry was grateful that not a single one of them mentioned Sirius in any way shape or form. When the car stopped, he opened the door and with a great sigh climbed out. It was refreshing to be back at the Burrow, where there was non-stop excitement. He breathed in the air and looked around, seeing that nothing had changed from the last time he was there nearly two years ago. It was a wonderful feeling to know that some things didn’t change.

Behind him, Lupin and Mad-Eye were getting Harry’s belongings as Ron stepped up and beamed at Harry. “The whole family’s staying here for the summer, so it’s a packed house, just like it was last time you were here. Only this time Fred and George have volunteered to sleep downstairs. They’ve got a flat in London, right off of Diagon Alley.”

“How is their business, anyway?” Harry asked.

“Ask them yourself when you get inside,” Ron said with a smirk as Hermione and Ginny stepped up next to them. “Ginny, why don’t you run ahead and announce our arrival. Everyone was so happy when Dumbledore said you could come. They all can’t wait to see you,” he told Harry as Ginny ran off towards the house.

“I missed everyone as well,” Harry replied as Lupin and Mad-Eye took Harry’s trunk up to the house. Tonks was following behind with Hedwig’s cage. “I sent Hedwig along early,” Harry told Ron. “D’you think she’s made it already?”

“I imagine so.” He looked up just as Mr. Weasley walked into the house. “So, really, how was your summer, mate? Get any odd feelings?”

“My scar’s been hurting almost daily,” Harry admitted. “I suppose that’s because of Voldemort’s—” Ron’s breath hitched. “—activities.”

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione admonished, “when will you get used to it? Try saying it once.”

Ron shook his head profusely. “No way! C’mon, Harry, let’s go in so everyone can see you.”

Hermione only shook her head in pity as Ron led the way up towards the Burrow. Harry followed along behind, wondering if he should tell them about the dream he had and how he had seen Wormtail. Voldemort was certainly up to something, but Harry did not have a single clue about what it could possibly be.

It could wait, Harry decided. Right now he just wanted to bask in the happiness that he was feeling at the moment. After all, they were few and far between.

Ron stopped right outside the door. “Go on Harry,” he said, turning back. “They’ll want to see you first.”

Harry felt slightly suspicious, but he stepped forward anyhow, opened the door, and walked into pitch blackness.

“Er…Ron?”

And with a great boom, the lights came back on as a large crowd shouted, “SURPRISE!” in unison.

Harry staggered backwards. Inside the Burrow was decorated with balloons, streamers, and a humongous banner that flashed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!” in several different colors.

What was even more spectacular was all of the people. It wasn’t just the Weasley family, several others were there as well. Harry immediately saw his fellow Gryffindor dorm mates, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, and he saw many of the members of Dumbledore’s Army, the group he, Hermione, and Ron started the previous year. Not only that, but several members of the Order were there as well. Harry distinctly saw Mundungus Fletcher in the back take a swig out of something particularly grimy looking. Of course, the easiest person of all to spot was the great form of Rubeus Hagrid, who was twice the size as any normal man and thus whose head was brushing the ceiling.

“Wow,” was the only word Harry could utter.

“Oh, welcome back, Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, rushing forward to give him a hug.

“Hey, Harry!” greeted Fred as the twins stepped forward.

“Happy birthday!” George exclaimed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Looking back at the crowd, he shouted, “Well, is this a party or not?”

Everyone laughed and started talking. Harry tried to see just who exactly was there, but George guided him off to the side, Fred right at their side.

“Fred and I have to thank you again, Harry,” George told him.

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be making the money we are now,” Fred said with a big smile.

“Don’t mention it, literally,” Harry said with a grin as Ron and Hermione walked over.

“Were you surprised?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. This is wonderful. Thank you very much,” Harry told the both of them.

“Well c’mon Harry, you’ve got to meet your guests,” Ron said.

Harry walked away and followed Ron and Hermione through the crowd, saying hello to the Patil twins, Lavender Brown, the Creevey brothers, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and several of the Order members including Kingsley Shacklebolt and Dedalus Diggle.

“Hullo Harry,” Hagrid said happily when they finally got to him in the back of the house. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry said with a small smile.

“How’ve yeh bin doin’?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I’m happy to be back amongst friends.”

“O’ course you are. When I gotta letter from Ron here sayin’ there was to be a birthday party for yeh, I couldn’ wait. Gosh, seems like so long ago since the last time I saw yeh.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed and then dropped his voice to a whisper. “So, how’s Grawp?”

“Grawpy? Aw, he’s fine. He knows a lot o’ English now. He’s a good boy.”

Out of the three of them, Hermione looked the most relieved. “So he’s not ripping out trees anymore, is he?” she asked.

“Nah, he’s happy with the ones he’s already knocked down,” Hagrid replied with a grin.

At that moment, Ron’s brother Bill jumped up onto a chair. “Hey everybody! It’s a lot nicer outside, so let’s head on out and have some fun!”

Ron chuckled. “If we’re not careful they might start a game of Quidditch.”

“I would play, but I still need my broom,” Harry muttered.

“Ah, don’ worry. Professor Dumbledore’s got it,” Hagrid said. “He’ll give it back the next time he sees yeh. Well, I suppose we better join the festivities outside, eh?”

Ron nodded and everyone followed him outside, where Fred and George were pulling pranks on unsuspecting guests.

“We sent an invitation to Neville,” Ron told him when the three sat down at one of the tables that Mr. Weasley and Lupin had just floated outside, “but he said he couldn’t come.”

“That’s okay,” Harry said. “After all, yesterday was his birthday.”

Both Ron and Hermione blinked in surprise. “Was it?” Hermione asked. “I didn’t know. Why hasn’t he ever told us before?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably because we never asked.”

“Hey Harry!” shouted Colin Creevey as he came up to the trio with his camera. “Mind if I take a picture of you three?”

Harry looked at his two friends, who shrugged and smiled. “Sure Colin.”

“Great!” Ron and Hermione leaned in closer to Harry and posed for the camera. With one click of the camera’s shutter, they were done. “Thanks, Harry. I’ll get you a copy as soon as I get them developed.”

Ron’s stomach garbled. “I can’t wait until Mum’s done cooking. She’s making the biggest pot of beef stew you’ll ever see and Hagrid brought a whole load of sausages.”

“Enough to feed the entire Royal Navy,” Hermione added.

They laughed. Harry couldn’t believe how much better he was feeling. He hadn’t laughed like that since before Voldemort’s return. His contented sigh only reflected his peace.

“I’m going to go see if I can help Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione told them after awhile and took off.

“C’mon, Harry, let’s go mingle again,” Ron said.

They traveled amongst the guests again and this time stopped and talked to someone whom Harry hadn’t seen the first time around.

“Hello Luna,” he said a blonde haired girl with very protuberant blue eyes.

“Hello Harry. Your birthday is today,” Luna Lovegood replied.

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think he knows.”

“Of course he does,” Luna said, flicking her dreamy gaze between Harry and Ron. “Happy birthday, Harry.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Luna. I appreciate you coming.”

“I appreciate being invited,” she returned. “I believe I should be thanking Ronald for that.”

Ron turned a slight shade of pink. “Well, what can I say…” he trailed off just as Ginny walked up to them.

“Hey guys! Bill, Fred, and George are starting a gnome throwing contest. Do you want to join?”

“Sure!” Ron said, obviously glad to change the subject. “How about you, Harry?”

“Why not? Sounds like fun. Do you want to join us, Luna?” he asked, turning back to the Ravenclaw.

“I will be content to watch.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “Let’s go.”

As they headed over towards where Bill, Fred, George, and several others, Harry was flagged down by Percy Weasley, whom Harry considered to be the biggest deserter of all time.

“You guys go ahead,” Harry told Ron, Ginny, and Luna. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

Percy held out his hand. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry, unsure of what was going on, shook it. “Er—Hi Percy.”

He quickly shook Harry’s hand and released it. “First of all, Harry, happy birthday—”

“Thanks.”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything I’ve said or done. I didn’t want to believe that You-Know-Who was back and I didn’t want to jeopardize my family—”

“—or yourself.”

He sighed. “Yes, I suppose. I didn’t want to jeopardize my future. I didn’t mean what I said about you. You are quite the bright young man with a good heart, but I—” He stopped when Harry held up his hand.

“Please, don’t flatter me. I know very well the reason why you said those things about me. I know why you left your family. You were trying to save your own ass and that’s fine, but in the process you alienated your family. You hurt them. I can forgive you for saying what you did about me, but I can’t forgive you for hurting them. So don’t apologize to me, apologize to them.” With that, Harry turned around and headed off in the direction where Seamus Finnigan was preparing to throw a gnome.

He hadn’t gotten very far when he was joined by Hermione. “Mrs. Weasley didn’t need that much help. What did Percy want?”

Harry scowled. “To explain himself.”

“Oh. Of course, he wouldn’t even be here if Fudge still refused to believe that Voldemort has returned. He’d still be trying to suck up.”

Harry regarded Hermione for a moment as they walked. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he said with a laugh.

“So, thus far, how has your birthday been?” she asked him.

“Fine. I can’t believe you all went through the trouble,” he murmured. “Thanks.”

She shrugged. “Nothing’s all that much trouble when it comes to you,” she said.

“Well, I still appreciate it,” Harry told her.

“Oi, Harry!” yelled Fred. “You throwing gnomes or what?”

“Hang on!” he called back and turned to Hermione. “Are you watching?”

“Yes, I might as well,” she murmured. “Good luck.”

He smiled. “Thanks,” he said and took off to join Ron with the gnomes.

*****

After an incredible gnome throwing contest that Ron’s second eldest brother Charlie won, everyone was called by Mrs. Weasley to have a seat and start eating. After putting up a small protest, Harry found himself sitting at the head of the largest of three tables with Ron and Hermione on either side staring down at a large bowl of beef stew.

“This looks so good,” he commented as Ron started shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth.

“Mum’s stew is the best,” he said around a mouthful of food. “She’s been slaving like a house-elf all day making it.”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “That’s not funny.”

He held up his hands. “Sorry. It’s just an expression.”

Harry could tell that she wanted to say more, but held herself back for some reason.

“So,” Harry began, “you two never really told me what you did during the summer.”

“Nothing of course,” Ron muttered. “Especially once Percy came home. Mum was so happy she was crying. Other than that, everything’s been normal.”

“What about you, Hermione?” he asked, turning towards her.

“Oh, nothing much. My parents and I spent a week in Paris, but that was for an International Dentist’s Convention. It wasn’t bad. I got to go see the Louvre finally. That was fun. Other than that, I didn’t do anything noteworthy.” She sighed. “But I supposed to your summer that seems like heaven.”

“A little closer to it, at least,” he replied. “But I’m happy you had fun.”

An hour or so later, Harry was settled down in front of his guests, to which he asked Mr. Weasley, “What’s going on?”

“Time for you to open your presents, Harry,” he replied with a grin.

“Presents?”

“Certainly,” Mr. Weasley said. “Everyone must present a gift for the person of honor and today, that’s you.”

Harry looked around at the amount of people around. “Everyone?”

“Well, some people go in on a present with a few others. Are you ready for them?”

Harry looked around apprehensively. “I don’t want any gifts. I’m happy enough with the party.”

“Well, you’re going to get both,” Mr. Weasley said with another grin. “Everyone! It’s time for the presents!”

There was an excited murmur throughout the crowd and everyone rushed forward, trying to find a good place to sit.

“Honestly, Mr. Weasley, this isn’t necessary,” Harry tried to plead.

“Nonsense. It’s your birthday, Harry, and it’s about time you had a good one,” Mr. Weasley said, then turned towards Mrs. Weasley, who had just walked out of the house accompanied by Tonks and Lupin, all carrying an enormous amount of gifts.

“Molly, bring our gift forward first,” Mr. Weasley told his wife.

Mrs. Weasley brought forth a small wrapped parcel with a bow and held it out towards Harry. “Happy birthday,” she said happily as Harry accepted the gift and began to open it.

When he took the last piece of wrapping off he read the label aloud, “Broomstick carrying case.” He opened it up and took out a long black bag that sort of resembled at duffle bag. “Thank you so much,” he said to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

They both beamed. “You’re welcome, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley replied.

Fred and George came up next and handed him what was clearly a bottle. Unwrapping it he noticed the label read: Weasley Wizard Wheezes presents: L’eau d’âne. Just one sip will make an ass out of you!

“Something for Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins,” Fred whispered.

“Have fun,” George added with a wink.

Harry laughed. “Thanks, I think.”

Several more people walked up and gave Harry gifts, including Hagrid, who gave him a new leather wallet on a chain to replace the one he bought for him last Christmas. Tonks had gotten him a wand holster, while Luna gave Harry a new penknife as his old one was destroyed over a month earlier in the Department of Mysteries. Harry immediately put on Moody’s gift, which was a watch that not only told the time but also if there were people around you that had harmful intentions. Ron’s gift was excellent too. It was a book called The World’s Toughest Quidditch Plays and went over the most difficult scenarios in moving color illustrations.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry was saying when he heard a voice he hadn’t heard for over a month.

“I hope I haven’t missed much.”

Harry turned around to see the form of Albus Dumbledore with his long silvery beard and sparkling blue eyes right behind him.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry greeted.

“Hello Harry. Happy birthday,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I believe this belongs to you,” he continued and help up a broomstick.

“My Firebolt!” Harry exclaimed and took it gratefully when Dumbledore offered it. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re very welcome. I also have a gift from the house-elf Dobby and a letter to deliver from Professor McGonagall,” he said and handed both a present and a letter over to Harry.

Harry opened Dobby’s present first, revealing a severely colorful necktie and an equally colorful scarf. Not knowing what else to say, Harry looked back up at Dumbledore and said, “Tell Dobby I said thanks.”

“Of course.”

Harry then opened up his letter from Professor McGonagall, read it once, did a double take, and then read it for a second time to be sure.

“What’s it say, Harry?” Ron asked.

“I don’t believe it,” Harry whispered to himself. “I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

Harry looked up at Ron in sheer amazement.

“What?” he repeated. “What is it Harry?”

Harry smiled and read aloud:

Dear Mr. Potter,

After careful consideration, I am pleased to inform you that you have been made captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team due to your leadership skills and abilities on the field. It is up to you to make the Gryffindor team as strong as possible to win yet another Quidditch Cup. Good luck and congratulations.

Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

“You’re the captain of the Quidditch team? That’s excellent!” Ginny cried.

“Yeah, you can put that book Ron got you to good use,” Fred said with a grin.

“But hopefully you won’t turn into the next Oliver Wood,” George said and the twins snickered.

The three Chasers from the former year’s team, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet all walked up to Harry and hugged him.

“Congratulations,” Angelina said as she gave him a bear hug. “I’m sure you’ll make a better captain than I was.”

“Wish I could be there one more year,” Alicia said.

“We’ll have a great team this year, I know it,” Katie said with a grin. “Congratulations, Harry.”

“Thanks,” he replied with a grin.

When everyone settled down, Hermione walked up to him. “I don’t know how I’ll compete with that, but here,” she said and placed a small box in his hands.

He quickly unwrapped it, opened the box, and was completely taken aback. Inside the box was a small gold pendant designed as a Snitch on a gold chain necklace. He took it out and stared at it as the sun hit the gold and bounced off in several directions. “Wow, Hermione.”

“Do you like it?” she asked, looking a bit nervous.

“Like it? I love it! This is great,” he said and undid the clasp. “Thank you very much.” He placed it around his neck, hooked the chain back up and looked down at the necklace and noticed it seemed rather perfect for him. “Wow,” he murmured again.

After Hermione sat down, Lupin walked up to Harry. “Er—My gift’s a little too big for me to carry, so if you could follow me,” he said with a small smile.

Harry got up and followed Lupin around to the other side of the house, where he immediately dropped his jaw.

“No way!” he exclaimed. Right next to the edge of the house was a motorcycle. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not just any ordinary motorcycle,” Lupin told Harry. “It flies.”

“Flies?”

“Yes, it does. Harry,” Lupin said, turning towards him, “this used to be Sirius’s bike.”

Harry stepped back. “Sirius’s?”

“Yes. He wanted you to have it,” Lupin explained. “I’m just sorry he isn’t here to give it to you himself.”

By this time several people had joined them, all talking about the motorcycle. When Mrs. Weasley arrived, she looked at the bike, then looked at Lupin and said, “You can’t give him that.”

“Why can’t I?” Lupin asked. “Sirius wanted him to have it.”

“He’s too young,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“He’s not going to ride it yet. I’m just giving it to him because Sirius couldn’t.”

“You’re starting to get as bad as he was, trying to get Harry to do things that he shouldn’t,” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

“He wasn’t a bad man,” Harry said quietly. He didn’t like hearing Mrs. Weasley talk about Sirius that way. “I’m happy Professor Lupin gave me the bike.”

“But Harry—”

“Please, don’t,” he murmured. “Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate it. Excuse me.” He quickly turned on his heal and left, hoping to avoid anymore talk of Sirius for the rest of the day.

*****

Later on, after blowing out the candles on his birthday cake and eating enough to make him feel as though if he ate another bite he would explode, Harry sat back playing a game of Exploding Snap with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the Creevey brothers. Others, thanks to Fred and George buying over a dozen super soakers, were engaging in a water gun fight.

“Where did they get those?” Harry asked as he watched Fred chase Angelina around, spraying her every chance he got.

“Some Muggle shop,” Ron replied. “They’re loads of fun, but…” He rubbed his stomach.

“That’s your fault for pigging out so much,” Hermione said as the whole deck suddenly went up in flames.

“Well, there goes that game,” Ginny muttered.

At that moment George walked up, completely soaked. “Oh, that was refreshing. Too bad it’s over.”

“Who won?” Colin Creevey asked.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was certainly fast.”

“Probably because he’s used a squirt gun before,” Hermione commented.

“Yeah. Well, Charlie, Fred, and I were going to start up a Quidditch game. Good ole Charlie’s caught himself a golden snidget bird. It’s practically a Snitch. Anybody want to join?” he asked.

“I will,” Ron said immediately.

“Me too,” Ginny said.

“Harry?” George asked. “Charlie’s already claimed Seeker on one team. We could sure use you to equal it out on the other.”

“Why not? I could use the practice,” Harry replied.

“Great. Grab your brooms and meet us in the field,” George said and walked off, his shoes sloshing with every step he took.

Within a minute Harry had his Firebolt and was standing at the edge of the field. Fred and George were flying up on either end of the field and placing three hoops in the trees that surrounded the Weasley’s faux pitch while Charlie was placing a spell on two balls to act as the Bludgers. After everything was in place and everyone who wanted to play was at the edge of the field, Charlie stepped forward and grabbed Harry.

“As birthday boy, you get to be the honorary captain of one of the teams,” he said with a smile.

“Who’s the other?” Harry asked.

He grinned again. “Me. Okay everyone!” he said, addressing the gathering. “We’re doing a schoolyard pick. Harry chooses first.”

Ron was jumping up and down, waving his hands frantically in the air. Harry chuckled. “Ron.”

Ron quickly ran forward as Charlie chose Angelina Johnson. Harry next chose Katie Bell, while Charlie took George.

“Dang, I was hoping I’d get both of them,” Harry muttered.

“One’s better than none,” Ron murmured.

“Yeah. Fred!” he called.

Fred ambled over next to Harry, swinging his bat the entire way.

“Alicia!” Charlie called.

“Ginny!”

“Dean!”

“Justin!”

“Seamus!”

“Which Creevey brother do you think we should get?” Harry asked Ron.

“Make it Colin, he’s bigger,” Fred said as he leaned forward.

Harry nodded. “Colin!” Which meant Charlie got Dennis.

Both teams quickly divided into positions, Ron and Seamus as Keepers, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Ginny, and the Creevey brothers playing as Chasers, and Justin and Dean joining Fred and George as Beaters.

The game took off quickly. Harry found himself back in his element as Seeker, although he was slightly worried. He had heard of Charlie’s legendary Seeker skills but never had a chance to see him in action. He wondered if he was still as great as he was in Hogwarts.

Soon it didn’t matter. Everyone was having fun and Harry found himself quite amused with some of the party guest’s Quidditch skills. He watched as Justin Finch-Fletchley completely missed hitting the acting Bludger as it zoomed towards Dennis Creevey, who was fumbling with the ball.

By the time Harry saw the snidget, he had lost track of the score. He bolted around the field with Charlie at his side until Harry made a sharp turn and, with the superior Firebolt, completely lost one of Hogwart’s greatest Seekers. He reached out and easily grabbed the little snidget, ending the game.

“That was great, Harry!” Ron shouted when they landed.

“Who won?” Harry asked him.

Ron thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Great job, Harry,” said Charlie when he walked up next to the boys. “I knew you were a good flyer, but damn!” he exclaimed as he walked off.

Harry laughed as Hermione joined them. “Did you all have fun?”

“Loads,” Ron said. “I can’t wait for Quidditch season to start!”

“I can’t believe how late it’s getting,” Ginny murmured as she joined them. “Anything going on inside the house?”

“Not really,” Hermione replied. “Just the adults talking.”

“About?” Harry asked, his interest caught.

“I don’t know. I’ve been outside,” Hermione told him. “But I have a feeling it’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

“What do you mean it’s exactly what he’s thinking?” Ron asked.

“The Order,” Harry and Hermione said in unison, then looked at each other in awe.

“You two are creepy,” Ginny said with a giggle.

“An Order meeting now?” Ron wondered. “Why?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it,” Hermione answered. “Most of them are all here. What better time than now?”

“But it’s Harry’s birthday,” Ron said incredulously.

“So? Voldemort’s still on the loose,” Hermione shot back.

Ron shuddered and frowned. “You’d think they’d give it a rest for one day.”

“The day they do is the day something worse happens,” Harry murmured, stopping Hermione from uttering a word.

“D’you think we could go eavesdrop?” Ginny asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“D’you have any of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears?” Harry asked.

“Only two,” she replied.

“Fine. Ron and I will go over and listen in,” Harry said.

But he never got the chance. Just as Ginny was digging into her pockets for the Extendable Ears, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked over accompanied by something extremely short that Harry recognized to be a goblin. Following them were Professor Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody.

“What’s going on?” he asked when they all stopped right in front of him.

“Are you Harry James Potter of number four, Privet Drive?” the goblin asked in a gravelly voice.

“Er—yes.”

“Here,” the goblin said and held out an official looking envelope.

Harry took it carefully and saw that it was from Gringotts, the wizarding bank. “What is it?” he asked, looking back up, but the goblin was gone.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Perhaps you should open it and find out,” Moody advised.

Harry looked down at the envelope suspiciously and tore it open. Inside was a piece of paper and a small gold key. “What’s this all about?” he wondered as he held up the little key.

He looked up at the faces before him. Everyone around him looked mildly interested, except for Professor Lupin. He looked very sad and dismayed.

“Professor Lupin? Do you know anything about this?” he asked.

“Just read it the letter, Harry,” Lupin said mournfully. “Although I would have picked a better day.”

Confused, Harry took out the letter, unfolded it and read:

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

Diagon Alley

London

Mr. Harry James Potter

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinning

Surrey

Dear Mr. Potter,

As the beneficiary named on Sirius Black’s will, you are hereby given all of his assets, as stated. This includes the contents in his vault, number 711, and his family’s home, number 12, Grimmauld Place. We are very sorry for your loss.

Sincerely,

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

“No,” Harry breathed.

“What is it, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry stumbled backward, dropping the letter. “No,” he said again and did the only thing he could think of. He ran.

Author’s Notes: First off, I want to thank everyone for their patience. Seeing as I’m still in school for about another month, there will be more delays as I won’t have that much time to write. I would really like to thank the Wonks, who have been my backbone. Your support has helped me a lot. Also, a very special thank you to Daniel. I’d like to dedicate this chapter to him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ACCEPTANCE

Avoidance was the only thing on Harry’s mind. He had to avoid the party; he had to avoid the people. He did not want to see their faces, the looks of pity. It only brought the letter closer to home.

When he locked himself in Ron’s bedroom, he slumped against the wall and let out a deep breath he did not know he had been holding and finally let himself wonder: why? Why did Sirius name him the beneficiary on his will? How long ago had he done it? Why didn’t he tell Harry that he had.

He banged his head back against the wall and shouted at the top of his lungs, “WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME? Why did you have to die?” he finished in a voice just above a whisper.

But his sorrow soon changed over into a twisted anger. He felt a vile hate uncoil inside his stomach as he clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly. How could Sirius just give him everything; how could he place such a burden on Harry? Didn’t he know that he already had the greatest burden of all on his shoulders: being the only one able to defeat Voldemort? Didn’t he care?

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” He bellowed. “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO PLAY HERO AND TRY TO COME AND RESCUE ME? I DON’T NEED RESCUING!”

Fuming, Harry threw the closest object he could get his hands on, a pillow, as hard as he could. “WHY, DAMN YOU, WHY?” he asked over and over again as he punched the wall and kicked the bed. “Why?” he uttered with a sob and collapsed on the floor.

As he laid there, his earlier question came back to mind. Why did you have to play hero and try to come and rescue me? No, it wasn’t Sirius who was trying to play hero, it was Harry. Hermione had said it herself. Harry liked playing the hero. He had played the hero and he had tried to rescue Sirius. It was his fault. His fault. Sirius was not to blame.

“Oh, God!” he sobbed and crawled over to the wall, where he sat himself up.

It was like this how Ron found him nearly a half an hour later. “Hey, Harry,” he said quietly.

“Ron,” Harry acknowledged in the same manner.

“Er...you okay?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Oh. Er…some of the guests are getting ready to leave. D’you want to come down and say good-bye to them?”

“I probably should, shouldn’t I?”

“Er...yeah, you probably should.”

“Okay.” He got up and faced Ron.

“Boy, mate, you look like hell.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Harry’s face. “Thanks, Ron.”

Together, the two best friends walked out of the room and down the stairs to meet the public once again.

*****

Later on that night, Harry was trying to fall asleep. Over in the bed across from him Ron was snoring softly. Harry took a long look at his friend, shook his head in slight amusement, and starred out the window right above Ron’s bed. It was a starry, quiet night. Everything was peaceful.

It won’t be that way forever, he thought mournfully.

Sighing, Harry tried to clear everything from his mind. He didn’t want to think anymore, he just wanted to sleep.

For just one night I want peace. It was with that wish that he finally fell asleep.

Harry was standing outside of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, looking up at it. Suddenly, he heard footsteps. Turning around, he saw the face he longed to see.

“Sirius!”

Sirius Black stood before him, hands in his pockets, and stared at him.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Harry went on, feeling uneasy. His godfather was still staring at him. “Sirius?”

“I can’t believe you,” Sirius spat.

“What?” He reached out to touch him, but felt his hand go right through the man before him.

“You let me die,” Sirius said, “just so you could get all of my stuff. All of my money. Aren’t you rich enough, Harry? Didn’t Mommy and Daddy give you enough?”

“What are you talking about?” he cried, stepping back in disbelief. “I would never—”

“Liar. You’re a greedy rotten little murderer. Pathetic.” Sirius muttered.

“No. I’d never—”

“You couldn’t wait until I died, could you Potter?” Sirius interrogated mercilessly. “Who are you going to kill next? Ron? Hermione?”

“No!”

Sirius barked in laughter. “They’re going to go my way, aren’t they? You’re pathetic. Well, enjoy the money, thief!”

Before Harry could say another word, Sirius turned and simply disappeared, and Harry awoke to the pale pinkness that was coming through Ron’s bedroom window.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream, he repeated to himself over and over in his head.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he knew it wouldn’t be any good. He got up and dressed quickly before sneaking out of the room.

No one else in the Burrow was up yet and he wanted to keep it that way. Fred and George were both snoring loudly on the couches when he reached the first floor, making it easy for him to sneak through the back door and outside. He wandered around until he found himself on top of a small hill where he sat down on the soft, dewy earth and dropped his head into his hands, his dream coming back clearly.

He didn’t hear the footsteps come up from behind him, but he did feel the presence of someone as they sat down beside him. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Hermione sitting next to him, hugging her knees to her chest, looking up at the sky.

“Looks like we’re going to have a beautiful sunrise this morning,” she said, not taking her eyes from the sky.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry agreed and cast his eyes down upon the ground.

“You had a nightmare.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“I can’t imagine getting a letter like that on my birthday,” she said quietly. “You seemed so happy before it arrived, but that was just a smokescreen, wasn’t it Harry? You haven’t been happy since before Cedric died. Sirius’s passing only made it worse.”

“Since when did you become a psychologist? You don’t know how I feel,” Harry snapped and regretted it immediately. “I’m sorry.” He looked over at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were pressed together tightly. “Hermione?”

“Please don’t say I don’t understand how you feel,” she whispered and opened her eyes. Harry was shocked to see that she was crying.

“Hermione…what—”

“My grandmother died when I was ten. She had cancer,” Hermione told him quietly.

Now Harry really felt miserable. How could he be so insensitive? “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“We were very close, just like you and Sirius. She died at the end of May. I got my Hogwarts letter a week later. I couldn’t even tell her,” she said and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I promised myself that I would do the best I could, that I would become the best witch possible. I miss her so much.”

“I’m a git, aren’t I?” he asked, feeling guilty.

She looked up at him. “No,” she said with a small smile. “You’re just in pain. But at least now you know that you’re not alone. I know how you feel.”

He frowned. “Thanks. How did you know I was out here anyway?”

“I heard a creak on the stairs. Light sleeper,” she explained, seeing the puzzled look on his face.

“Oh. Sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it. You are in pain, I had to come. Do you still blame yourself for Sirius’s death?”

“Sometimes,” he told her. “He wouldn’t have come after me if I hadn’t gone. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“It was a risk I was willing to take. I’m sure Sirius was willing to too.” She looked directly into his eyes. “He doesn’t blame you. No one blames you.” She scooted over and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I hate seeing you do this to yourself.”

He breathed deeply and could smell a faint sent of lilac in her hair. “I see him every night,” he admitted to her. “He’s always in my dreams dying, or looking at me like he’s asking, ‘Why did you let me die?’ Last night was different though.”

She pulled back, but didn’t let him go. “How so?”

“He and I were standing in front of Grimmauld Place and he was just staring at me. He then accused me of letting him die so I could have all of his stuff: his money, his house. I tried to explain, but he just turned away and disappeared. I know it sounds stupid—”

“No it doesn’t,” Hermione interjected. “You feel guilty about being given everything that was his. You were like a son, or at least a little brother, to him. If he didn’t want you to have it, he wouldn’t have put your name on that will.”

And it was as simple as that. She had given him the eye-opener he needed to come to his senses and stop worrying. A sigh of relief escaped past his lips. “Thanks, Hermione. I needed that.”

“Anytime,” she replied back. She tilted her head towards the sky again. “Look, I was right. What a beautiful morning.”

*****

Later on that morning, Harry was sitting between Ron and Hermione at breakfast. Ron and the rest of the family were chatting on merrily while both Harry and Hermione remained quiet. No one seemed to notice.

“A few more tests and it will be done,” Fred was telling everyone.

“I can already tell that Weasley Wedgies are going to be a hit,” George said with a grin.

“You two could have been so much more if you had just taken your N.E.W.T.s,” Mrs. Weasley chided. “Weasley Wedgies, Ton-Tongue Toffee, Nosebleed Nougat—”

“All wonderful trademarks of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Fred replied, beaming with pride.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves for making a profit off of other people’s misfortunes,” Mrs. Weasley scolded.

“Oh, come now, Mum. Those misfortunes are nothing but a bit of fun. And people love them,” George told her. “Fred and I are doing very well. Enough to give Zonko’s a run for its money.”

“We do owl-order too. That brings in plenty of revenue,” Fred said. “George and I are living pretty well. You don’t need to worry, Mum.”

“They are doing well, Mum,” Bill commented. “Clever merchandise, too. You might as well relax, Mum; they aren’t going to be stopping anytime soon.”

Mrs. Weasley scowled. She muttered something that sounded distinctly like, “You’re wasting your lives.”

Everyone was silent for a moment before Ginny dropped her fork with a slight scream.

“Wha—” Mr. Weasley started before looking over at the fireplace, where Ginny was staring. “Oh, Remus, hello!”

“Hello Arthur,” said the head of Remus Lupin, which was poking out of the fireplace. “I have some excellent news.”

“What it is?” Mr. Weasley asked as everyone at the breakfast table leaned closer to get a better look.

“Is Harry around? He’ll want to hear this the most,” Lupin said.

“I’m right here,” Harry replied, standing up.

“Good. Dumbledore just dropped by to tell me that after a lengthy investigation, the Ministry has finally cleared Sirius,” Lupin announced with a smile.

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Now? “Why does it matter? He’s dead,” Harry muttered.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said gently, “it means that people won’t believe he’s a murderer anymore.”

“So? I doubt he cared what people thought about him. All he wanted was freedom. He can’t get that now,” Harry retorted.

“I understand, Harry,” Lupin murmured. “But now we can honor Sirius the way he is supposed to be honored. We can have a proper ceremony for him.”

“Ceremony? Why couldn’t we before?”

“Because he was considered a criminal,” Charlie answered. “Criminals cannot be honored by wizard law.”

“Since when do we do anything by wizard law,” Ron muttered.

“Dumbledore has set up the ceremony for him to take place next Friday in one of the Ministry’s halls,” Lupin informed them. “I’ll see you all there, right?”

“Of course you will,” Mr. Weasley said. “Thank you, Remus.”

“You’re welcome. See you then.” With that, he was gone.

Harry sat down and picked up his fork. When conversation picked up again, he felt Hermione reach over and squeeze his hand. He squeezed hers back, letting her know that he was fine. She nodded, let go, and went back to her breakfast as Bill started to tell about the latest goings at Gringotts.

*****

The next Friday, Harry found himself pulling on his green dress robes while Ron was pulling on a pair of sleek black robes.

“I’ve never had a chance to wear the robes Fred and George bought me,” Ron told him. “What a fit.” Harry grinned over his shoulder at Ron, who was trying to examine himself. “I see yours still fit you, Harry.”

“Barely,” Harry admitted and it was true. If the hem went up another millimeter they would be considered too short. “So Ron, what usually happens in these ceremonies anyway?”

“Nothing much. It’s supposed to be a big celebration of the deceased’s life. Usually there are a couple of speeches, followed up by the Eternus charm, then—”

“Hold it—the Eternus charm?”

“It’s something that’s supposed to send wizards into the afterlife. It’s pretty hokey, but it’s tradition,” Ron explained.

“Oh. What happens after?”

“After that, we come to my favorite part, the feast.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Ron laughed as they both headed downstairs, where Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys were waiting.

“Dumbledore was kind enough to provide a portkey for Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione,” Mr. Weasley said to his older children as he held up a red feather that looked distinctly like it had come from Dumbledore’s pet phoenix, Fawkes. “I’ll be traveling with them.”

“We’ll see you there, Father,” Percy said and suddenly disapparated.

“Yeah, see you all in a few minutes,” Fred said as both he and George disapparated.

Both Bill and Charlie gave their good-byes and disappeared, leaving Mrs. Weasley.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, Arthur?” she asked.

“We’ll be fine, Molly. I’ll see you there,” he said and gave her a peck on the cheek. Moments later, she was gone.

“Okay,” Mr. Weasley said, checking his watch, “the portkey is scheduled to leave in a minute, so everyone grab hold.”

Harry grabbed onto the feather’s tip as everyone else grabbed onto a piece of the feather.

“Any second now,” Mr. Weasley murmured as Harry felt a familiar pull around his navel and his feet left the ground.

When he landed, he was in a medium sized room decorated in wood paneling with a long table draped in black table covers. At the front of the room was a small podium. Harry noticed that every person there was a member of the Order.

“Come on kids, let’s get a seat,” Mr. Weasley said and led them over to where Mrs. Weasley and the other Weasley boys were sitting along with Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody. When Harry sat down, he noticed a small piece of paper in front of him that read:

Sirius Black

Good friend and fellow knight

Today we honor the loss of one of our own. Today we will remember all of the deeds that Sirius has done; all that he had to suffer through. Today we say farewell and hope that he may find eternal peace.

As he read onward it told him that both Dumbledore and Lupin were to give a speech and below that, it told him exactly how to do the Eternus charm.

“Nice of them to put that on there, isn’t it?” Ron whispered as he poked Harry in the ribs. “I can never seem to remember how that thing goes.”

“It looks rather complicated,” Hermione said in a low tone as she leaned closer to both Harry and Ron.

“Nah, it’s all for show,” Ron told her.

“You’ve done it before?” Harry asked him.

“Well, no, but I’ve seen it done loads of times. Besides, the charm isn’t supposed to do anything.”

“Shh, you three, the ceremony is about to begin,” Mrs. Weasley chastised as Professor Dumbledore stepped up to the podium. A suddenly hush came over the assembly.

“First, I would like to thank everyone for coming today, especially on such short notice. It is with great sorrow and yet great pride that I stand before today to celebrate a man we all knew and we all cared for, Sirius Black.

“I had known Sirius since he was eleven, the first day he stepped into Hogwarts. He was quite the little rascal. In the seven years that followed, he along with his friends, James Potter and Remus Lupin, caused quite the stir on my grounds.” At that, he grinned, his blue eyes twinkling brightly.

“Sirius was an excellent wizard, a formidable warrior. But most importantly, he was a good friend. We all know what happened nearly fifteen years ago. It affected him the most. Unfortunately, what happened to him afterward was the most shocking of all. Twelve years. Through only his will did he manage to survive and when he returned to us, he was still a formidable warrior and a good friend. He kept his promise that he made sixteen years ago until the very end without any concern for his own well being. He was brave and compassionate, although reckless at times. He is a true hero and for that, we honor him.” He raised a gleaming goblet. “To Sirius Black.”

As one, the congregation lifted their goblets and spoke in unison, “To Sirius Black.”

The never-ending sorrow was still inside Harry as Dumbledore stepped away from the podium, but suddenly Harry felt a new feeling: pride. Sirius was a hero, in every sense of the word. He went into battle to protect the ones he cared for without a single thought of himself. He went out to battle Wormtail after Harry’s parents had died and he had also fought Bellatrix Lestrange to protect Harry from harm.

As these new feelings rolled through Harry, Lupin stepped up to the podium and looked out over the crowd.

“Sirius, along with James, were my first two friends at Hogwarts and, being a werewolf, you don’t find many of those. They were like brothers to me. They helped me through some of the toughest times in my life and they made sacrifices to help me.

“When James and Lily died, I lost a brother. When they threw Sirius in Azkaban, I lost another. I was lost. But years later, I found my way. Sirius escaped and I had my brother back again. He was the most courageous man I have ever known and the most honorable. Two months ago, I lost my brother again, but this time I know that it was for a good reason and it eases my pain to know that he’s with our other brother. Which means, whatever lies beyond, both he and James are running amuck in there. Heavens beware.” The crowd chuckled appreciatively. “Maybe one day, I’ll be there too,” he said and lowered his head. “I’ll look after him,” he finished quietly. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after him.” Harry felt several eyes glance his way as Lupin got out his wand. “If you will all please join me in performing the ritual Eternus charm, to send my brother home.”

Harry, along with everyone else in the room took out their wands and as one recited:

“Farewell to thee, our dear beloved

We hope for safe travel to the above.

May your days be without strife

As you begin your eternal life.”

Everyone’s wands, which had begun to glow, suddenly shot off a magnificent gold light that went straight through the ceiling.

At the podium, Lupin gave a small smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly and stepped away. Harry watched him carefully and saw a tear fall from his former teacher’s eye. Then, without realizing it, Harry stood up, goblet in hand. Everyone stared at him. Lupin looked up and met his eyes as Harry raised his goblet with a tear also in his eye and said, “To Padfoot.”

A bittersweet smile came over Lupin’s features as he grabbed a goblet, raised it, and uttered back, “To Padfoot.”

Inside of Harry, something cracked as he sat down. His anguished seemed to seep out of him and when he was drained, the pride that had been there earlier returned. Sirius was gone, but one day, one day Harry would see him again. But not now, not now.

Hermione leaned in close to Harry. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah…I’m fine,” he said and for once truly felt it. He felt at peace and that night when he went to bed he did not dream of his godfather for the first time in several months.

Author’s Notes: Well, I got this chapter done a lot faster than I had anticipated. Thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews and enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHT

RETURN TO DIAGON ALLEY

By Monday morning, all of Ron’s older brothers were gone, leaving just Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Even without the five other members of the Weasley family, the breakfast table was still noisy.

“Work will be hectic this morning,” Mr. Weasley said as he buttered his toast. “I feel sorry for poor Perkins, having to handle all of it while I was gone.”

“How about some Quidditch practice today, Harry?” Ron asked as he took a bite out of a muffin.

“Sure,” Harry answered.

“Girls, would you like to help me today in the garden?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Certainly, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione replied just as Crookshanks, her ginger cat, jumped onto her lap. “Crookshanks!”

Ginny giggled and gave him a small piece of toast before Hermione set him back down on the floor. “It’s good to see him active again.”

“Well, I must be going. Good-bye dear,” he said and kissed Mrs. Weasley’s cheek. “Good-bye kids!”

“See you, Dad.”

“Good-bye, Arthur.

“Bye, Mr. Weasley.”

“I’ll see all of you later,” he said and disapparated.

“Any ideas yet for the new Quidditch season?” Ron asked eagerly.

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it yet. We’ll have to have tryouts for the vacancies. Two Chasers and two Beaters.”

“But we have two Beaters, that Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke.”

Harry looked at him incredulously. “Ron, they were horrible. They’re not staying on the team unless they’ve greatly improved over the holiday. I won’t let them.”

“Goodness Harry, you’re harsh.”

“I’m captain. It’s on me now,” Harry retorted. “I want to have a knock-out season.”

“So basically you’re saying if that any player doesn’t meet your requirements, you’ll sack them. Would you ever get rid of Katie, of me?” Ron interrogated, his face as red as his hair.

“No—Ron, you’re loads better now.”

“So I was dreadful before?”

“No! You just needed some confidence.”

“Ron,” Hermione said gently from across the table, “you’re an excellent Keeper. Everyone thinks so, especially Harry.”

“Really? Excellent?” he asked, turning even brighter. Hermione nodded. He turned to Harry, who also nodded. “Well, okay then.”

“Besides,” Harry went on, “if I got rid of you, who would be my unofficial co-captain?”

“Co-captain!” he sputtered. “You want me to be your co-captain?”

“Of course. I’m going to need the help,” Harry said and caught Hermione’s grin out of the corner of his eye.

“Harry, aren’t you a dear,” Mrs. Weasley said as she started to clean up the table.

“I’m not sure Professor McGonagall will go for it though, that’s why we have to keep it ‘unofficial.’ Think of it as though you’re my assistant coach,” Harry explained to Ron. “You’re going to help me come up with strategies and help train the new players. I’m going to rely on you a lot.”

“Don’t worry, you can count on me, Harry,” Ron said with a mock salute. “C’mon, let’s go practice now.”

“Hold it right there, boys. I want you two to check the garden for gnomes before the girls and I go in. You never know how many came back after your little throwing contest last week,” Mrs. Weasley said as she waved her wand over all of the dirty dishes in the sink setting them to work cleaning themselves.

Ron sighed. “Alright, Mum. Let’s go, Harry.”

It took them ten minutes to check out the garden and chuck out four gnomes.

“So what am I going to do as co-captain, Harry?” Ron asked as they walked back up to the house.

“Well…I don’t really want to say it’s like being my assistant, because I’ll let you have a say in everything, but…I guess that’s the best way to describe it,” Harry explained, watching Ron’s face carefully for any change in expression. He didn’t get one.

“Wicked,” Ron grinned, his eyes gleaming.

When they walked through the backdoor and into the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was looking through the morning mail that had just arrived.

“Hmm…some new magazine called Teen Witch wants you to subscribe, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley muttered and held out a slim magazine with a glossy cover. “They’ve sent you the first copy for free.”

“A new magazine?” Ginny said with interest as she took the magazine from her mother.

“Oh, and it appears your Hogwarts letters have arrived,” Mrs. Weasley continued as she riffled through the mail. “Here is yours, Harry.”

Harry stepped forward and took his letter as Mrs. Weasley handed over Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s letters. Harry quickly opened it up, read through the standard reminder that the Hogwarts Express was leaving at eleven o’clock on September the first, and then checked out the booklist for his N.E.W.T. level courses.

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6) by Miranda Goshawk

The Complete Guide to Transfiguration by Eleanor Echo

Magical Dark Monsters by Erik Cerberus

Dueler’s Delight: A guide to curses, counter-curses, and jinxes by Achilles Porthos

Advanced Potions-making by Helio Frothbit

Exotic Plants of the Wizarding and Muggle World, Part I by Rose Defleur

Also, please bring with you a set of formal dress robes as they may be required for some occasions.

“Wow, Harry, you’ve got more books than I do,” Ron remarked as he looked over Harry’s shoulder.

“Apparently Dumbledore has found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Hermione commented as she looked over her list. “We wouldn’t have these so soon otherwise.”

“A new Defense teacher? Whoever it is, I hope they aren’t as bad as Umbridge,” Ron muttered and all four of them shuddered.

“Dress robes?” Ginny inquired as she looked at her booklist.

“I was wondering about that myself,” Hermione murmured. “You don’t suppose Hogwarts is going to hold some big event this year, do you?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Ron replied.

Harry looked up to see Mrs. Weasley staring at Ginny expectantly. When Ginny noticed, she huffed out a breath and muttered, “No, Mum, I didn’t get the prefect’s badge. I’d expect it went to that Druantia Danu. She’s scored a lot of points for Gryffindor and has never lost any. She doesn’t like causing trouble.”

“And you do?” Mrs. Weasley asked, a small frown forming.

“No, but sometimes it just happens. It’s not like I’m Fred and George,” she said.

“So when are we going to Diagon Alley, Mum?” Ron asked Mrs. Weasley.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “Now come on girls, let’s go out to the garden.”

Hermione and Ginny quickly set down their letters and followed Mrs. Weasley outside.

“Ready to go play Quidditch?” Ron asked eagerly.

“Yeah,” Harry said as he also put his letter down. “Let’s go.”

They headed outside and walked around to the broom shed. They both grabbed a door and pulled it open, revealing Harry’s Firebolt, Ron’s Cleansweep, one other broom, and Sirius’s motorcycle. Suddenly, an idea sparked in Harry’s brain and as he turned to Ron, he could tell that he had the same idea.

“D’you want to try it out?” he asked cautiously.

“It’s your bike, mate.” He grinned mischievously. “Let’s go for it.”

Harry’s grin mirrored Ron’s as he walked in and brought the motorcycle out. They walked around the gleaming metal and leather a few times before Harry swung his leg over the seat and sat down. After a few moments of fiddling around with everything, he eventually got it started and listened as the engine roared to life.

“Bloody hell!” Ron yelled in excitement. “What’s it like, Harry?”

“Fantastic! Climb on!” Harry yelled back.

Ron clambered aboard behind Harry. “Let’s take her for a ride!”

“Hang on!” Harry said and looked around. After a couple of tries he finally got the motorcycle moving. He slowly moved the bike past the house and then, gathering speed, headed towards the road. But he didn’t get very far before he heard someone bellow, “WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DO YOU TWO THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

Harry immediately stopped in horror and cut the engine as Mrs. Weasley stalked towards them from the garden.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, get off of that thing right now!” she screamed and Ron quickly hopped off. “What in blazes do you think you were doing? I cannot believe you were actually on that contraption! Get inside right now!” Ron didn’t need to be told twice. He took off the moment his mother yelled the words “get inside.”

Harry gulped as Mrs. Weasley rounded on him. “As for you, Harry, I am not pleased with your actions. You don’t know how to use that thing and you could have gotten yourself and my son seriously injured. I would have expected you to have learned by now not to do things that get others killed—”

“What!” Harry exploded. “Do you really think I’m trying to get someone killed? Do you think that I killed Sirius?”

“Sirius killed himself when—”

“He was murdered! I know what I saw that night and I had to do something. Yes, it was my fault for being tricked into believing—”

“YOU NEARLY GOT MY SON AND DAUGHTER KILLED!” Mrs. Weasley screamed and then covered her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.

Harry just stared at her before closing his eyes and hanging his head in shame. He didn’t see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny walk up behind Mrs. Weasley. The only thing he heard was Ron murmuring, “And we’d do it all again.”

Harry opened his eyes as Mrs. Weasley turned and faced her son. He simply stood there and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not Harry’s fault Ginny and I were in danger,” he told his mother calmly. “We followed him, we took the risk, and we’d do it again.”

“None of what happened that night was Harry’s fault,” Hermione spoke up from beside Ron. “It was Voldemort’s.”

The three Weasleys cringed. “I don’t see how your mother and father can agree with this, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“What they don’t know can’t hurt them,” Hermione replied. “This is a war, Mrs. Weasley. There are bound to be casualties. I’m willing to be one of them if it means that we can defeat Voldemort.”

“Me too,” Ron said.

“Me too,” Ginny told her mother, “and so are you. You wouldn’t be in the Order if you weren’t willing to risk your life. It’s just as hard on us to know that you’re in danger as it is for you to know we’re in danger. But we’re doing our part and that’s important.”

“Don’t blame Harry, Mum,” Ron said softly. “If we’re in peril, it’s our own faults.”

Mrs. Weasley turned from her two children and Hermione to Harry and then back again. In defeat, her shoulders slumped and she murmured, “Don’t get into too much trouble,” as she walked away.

Harry stood shell-shocked. Both Ron and Ginny had just gone up against their mother for him. Both of them faced punishment for him and he was profoundly grateful. “Thank you,” he said quietly as he took hold of the motorcycle and started to lead it back to the broom shed.

Ron smiled grimly and walked away as Hermione and Ginny decided to go back to the garden and work.

“We meant what we said, Harry,” Ginny said as they were walking away. “We’d all face it again even if it meant our deaths.”

Harry nodded as he walked on, making eye contact with Hermione. Her gaze spoke volumes to him, putting him at ease. He gave her a tiny grin before making his way behind the Burrow and to the broom shed.

*****

The next day, everyone was up and ready by nine o’clock to go to Diagon Alley. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing next to the fireplace, Floo Powder in hand.

“Ron and Ginny will go first,” Mr. Weasley said as the two youngest Weasleys stepped forward and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

“I can’t stand traveling by Floo Powder,” Hermione whispered to Harry as both Ron and Ginny yelled clearly, “Diagon Alley!”

“Neither can I. Come on,” Harry said and Mrs. Weasley beckoned them forward. They both grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace.

“Remember, speak clearly,” Mr. Weasley said with a smile.

Harry grinned as both he and Hermione threw down their Floo Powder and yelled, “Diagon Alley!”

As the green flames tickled his sides he remembered exactly how much he hated Floo Powder. The spinning didn’t help much either, but soon his body settled and he found himself inside of the Leaky Cauldron. Ron and Ginny were waiting. Suddenly, there was a loud CRACK and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared.

“Did everyone make it?” Mrs. Weasley asked as both Harry and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace.

“Yeah,” Ron replied.

“Well, let’s go,” Mr. Weasley said. “Gringotts first.”

They headed out and down the alley towards Gringotts. Along the way, after helping both Hermione and Ginny to keep Ron from running to Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry noticed a large sign that said Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“So that’s where Fred and George’s shop is,” he commented as they past it.

Ron nodded. “We can go in later if we ditch Mum. She won’t set foot in that store.”

They entered Gringotts a minute later and approached the goblin at the main desk. After requesting to go to their vaults, the Weasleys parted ways with Harry as he and Hermione hopped into a different cart to take them down to his vault. After one crazy and fast cart ride, which made Hermione turn an interesting shade of green, they reached Harry’s vault.

“I’ve never had to do that before,” Hermione gasped as they exited the cart.

Harry grinned and stifled a chuckle as the goblin opened up his vault. He heard Hermione inhale sharply. “What?” he asked her.

“Goodness, Harry. I knew you had some money, but…wow!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, but don’t mention it to Ron, okay?”

“Of course not. I know how sensitive he is about it,” she murmured as Harry stepped inside and grabbed a fistful of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

When he stepped outside he asked Hermione something that was rather important to him. “Would you mind if I also went to…if I went to Sirius’s vault?”

“No, not at all,” Hermione replied, the sympathy evident in her eyes.

They hopped back into the cart and Harry asked the goblin to take them to vault 711. Another heart-stopping cart ride and they were there. Harry quickly fished out his key and gave it to the goblin, who opened the vault for him. When he peered inside, he couldn’t believe what he saw.

Sirius was extremely wealthy, more so than Harry’s parents. There had to have been over a billion Galleons alone, not to mention all of the gems and such. “My God,” he whispered.

“And I thought you had a lot,” Hermione said as they stepped inside.

“I had no idea…” Harry murmured. “No idea.”

He looked around until something caught his eye. It was a long, wide roll of parchment with the names Moody, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs written on it. Harry picked it up and unrolled it to reveal what looked to be drawings of a broomstick.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked from behind him.

“A broom,” he replied as he studied it. There were notes jotted down and arrows pointing to different parts of the broom.

“It looks like blueprints,” Hermione commented as she got a closer look.

“Yeah,” Harry said as he looked down at the name of it in the right-hand corner. “The Phoenix.”

“You don’t think that they were trying to make a broomstick, do you?” Hermione asked him.

“Knowing the Marauders, I’d bet that’s exactly what they were trying to do,” Harry said and rolled the parchment back up. “I’ll ask Lupin when we see him again.”

They continued to look around until Hermione caught Harry’s attention. Pointing to a corner of the vault she asked, “What do you suppose that is?”

Harry reached down and snatched up a small, slim brown book. On the binding the initials L.E. were engraved.

“L.E. I wonder who…” Harry started as realization hit him.

“What?” Hermione cried.

Harry opened the book up quickly and scanned the first page. “I don’t believe it!”

“What?” Hermione repeated.

He turned the book around to show her the signature at the bottom of the page.

Lily

“Your mother,” Hermione whispered and looked back up at him. “Oh Harry, it must be her diary.”

He closed the book. “I’m taking it with me, I have to. And I’m taking the blueprints too,” he said and grabbed the long roll of parchment. “Now let’s get out of here before Mrs. Weasley begins to worry too much.”

*****

After leaving Gringotts, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys all headed over to Flourish and Blotts to pick up their schoolbooks. Inside, they ran into Neville Longbottom and his stern grandmother.

“Hello Neville,” Hermione greeted.

“Hello,” he said. “Harry, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your birthday party.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure you had something much more important to attend to,” he said with a grin.

“I just saw Dedalus Diggle pass,” Mr. Weasley said. “Molly and I are going to say hello. We can leave you all alone, right?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Ginny replied and Mr. Weasley quickly stepped out of the shop.

“So what else do you need to buy, Neville?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, lots of stuff. I just got here,” he replied.

“Would you like to come with us? We’ve just started ourselves,” Ginny said.

He blushed. “Er—Can I?” he asked, turning to his grandmother.

Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose. I’ll meet you back in the Leaky Cauldron at twelve-thirty, no later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and turned back, grinning.

After they all paid for their books, they headed over to the Apothecary so Harry, Hermione, and Ginny could replenish their potions supplies.

“I’m so happy I won’t be having Potions anymore,” Ron said with glee. If it wasn’t for his desire to become an Auror, Harry would have been jealous of him.

“Sod off, Ron,” Ginny muttered. “I’ve got to suffer through O.W.L.s with him this year.”

“Have fun,” Ron said with a snicker.

Afterwards, they went to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions to buy some new dress robes. Once again, Ron didn’t have to buy anything, thanks to his older twin brothers. Because of this, the Weasleys were apparently able to afford Ginny some nicer robes.

Eventually they bought all of their quills, ink, and other necessities for school and were standing outside of Eeylops Owl Emporium.

“You know,” Hermione said as she looked at the owls through the window, “I wish I had an owl, so I could quit borrowing Hedwig from you, Harry.”

“I don’t mind, and I don’t think Hedwig does either. In fact, I think she’s really bored now,” he said.

“Do we need to get anything else?” Ron asked.

“Er…actually, I still need to buy a new wand,” Neville told them. His had been snapped when a Death Eater stepped on it last June.

“Of course. Let’s go over to Ollivander’s,” Ginny said and led the way.

Inside, Mr. Ollivander greeted them. “Good morning. Oh, I remember all of you. Mr. Weasley—willow, fourteen inches, unicorn hair. Miss Weasley—black walnut, twelve and three-quarters inches, unicorn hair. Miss Granger—vine, ten and a quarter inches, dragon’s heartstring. Mr. Potter—holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather. And here is Mr. Longbottom, who has yet to buy a wand from me. You were using your father’s, were you not? Cedar, thirteen and three-quarters inches, phoenix feather.”

“Yes,” Neville replied.

“And now you need a new one,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Mr. Ollivander said and started rummaging through boxes of wands. “Try this one first. Oak, twelve inches, unicorn hair. Very flexible.”

Neville gave the wand a wave and it was immediately snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. “Here. Cherry and maple, ten inches, dragon heartstring.” But that too was snatched back the moment it touched Neville’s hand. “Ash, nine inches, phoenix feather.” Neville barely touched it before Mr. Ollivander took it away.

“Hmm…maybe this one. Maple, thirteen and a half inches, dragon heartstring.” When Neville waved this wand, a small shower of sparks erupted from it. “Excellent,” Mr. Ollivander said in delight.

Neville purchased his wand and then they all headed out. “Let’s go to Fred and George’s shop,” Ginny said.

“Is that a new broom over there in Quality Quidditch Supplies’ window?” Ron asked as he drifted over to the shop. When the others joined him they saw that there was, indeed, a new broom being showcased.

“The Mercury Silver,” Hermione read aloud. “‘A broomstick for the upcoming millennium. This broom’s speed and agility rivals that of the Firebolt.’ ”

“Rivals the Firebolt?” Ron gasped in excitement. “Wow! Gee, Harry, maybe you should get yourself one.”

“Why should he? It says ‘rivals,’ not ‘beats.’ Honestly, it’d be a waste of money,” Hermione said.

“Aren’t we going to Fred and George’s shop?” Harry reminded them.

“Huh? Oh, right,” Ron said as his shoulder’s drooped.

When they arrived at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George were quite busy, but once they noticed the arrival of their family and friends, George shouted, “Oi, Fred, why don’t you give Harry a tour of the place. Do you see what your money bought, Harry?”

Fred jovially walked over to Harry and steered him off to one side of the store, pointing out every one of their inventions, including the Puking Pastilles and Fainting Fancies. Their array of fireworks was simply marvelous.

“Wow,” was all Harry could say.

“We expect to sell at lot more Skiving Snackboxes now that Hogwarts will be back in session. I can see the owl-orders already,” Fred said with a dreamy grin.

Over at the counter, Ginny was whispering to George, “Can I get some Nosebleed Nougat and Puking Pastilles on discount?”

George grinned as Harry and Fred rejoined them. “You definitely are our little sister,” George said in glee. “How about we give her a whole snackbox for free, Fred?”

“Only if,” Fred said somberly, “she tells me one thing: Did you get the prefect’s badge?”

“Of course not!” Ginny said, her face wrinkling. “I don’t want to be like Percy.”

“My baby sister!” George cried and hugged his sister tightly. “A true Weasley!”

“Hey!” Hermione called. “It’s almost twelve-thirty. We should go over to the Leaky Cauldron now.”

Fred quickly shoved a snackbox in Ginny’s hands and grinned. “Have a great term,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks for dropping by!” George called as the group headed out the door and down the alley to the Leaky Cauldron.

“I’ll see you all on the Hogwarts Express,” Neville said when they entered the old pub.

“Certainly. See you, Neville,” Ron said as they all said their good-byes and Neville walked over to his grandmother’s table.

“Ah, I see you’re done,” Mrs. Weasley said when they arrived at the table both she and Mr. Weasley were sitting at. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Ron said.

After yet another spin cycle with the Floo Powder, Harry found himself back at the Burrow, school items, blueprints, and his mother’s diary in hand.

“Hey Harry, how about a game of Quidditch?” Ron asked as he set down his schoolbooks.

“Maybe later, Ron,” he said, looking down at the blueprints. “I’ve got something to do first.”

Ron looked utterly confused, but only nodded his head. “Okay. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah…sure,” he said distractedly.

As Ron, Hermione, and Ginny went outside, Harry sat down in one of the Weasley’s soft, plump chairs and began to study the broomstick that his father and godfather were going to make, letting ideas form in his head and he didn’t set the blueprints down until Mrs. Weasley called him into the kitchen for dinner.

“So what have you been up to, Harry?” Ron asked at the table.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” he replied. Hermione gave him a concerned look, but Harry just shook his head. I’m doing this myself, he thought. I have to do this myself. And he would, as a testament to his father and godfather.

Author’s Notes: You are all in luck. I’ve had this chapter planned for over a month and so I was able to write it very quickly. I won’t be able to say the same about Chapter 10. Anyway, thanks again everybody for the reviews and I will try to get Chapter 10 done as fast as I can.

CHAPTER NINE

THE ARMY OF DARKNESS

Ron had Harry up early the next morning to practice Quidditch. So Harry was up and on his Firebolt, throwing the same ball they used in the Quidditch match on his birthday at Ron’s head. Luckily for Ron, Harry was still too sleepy to throw accurately.

“Are you okay, Harry,” Ron asked after awhile.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…I’m just tired.”

“How long did you stay up last night?”

“I dunno. Past three.”

“Three! What the hell were you doing? You weren’t still looking at that weird parchment thing, were you?”

“Yeah.”

“What is that thing? Why is it so important?”

“It’s nothing. It just—er—belonged to Sirius, that’s all,” Harry said quietly.

“Oh. Do you want to stop practicing?” he asked.

“Could we? After all, it’s not like we won’t be practicing a whole lot at Hogwarts,” Harry said and he started to drift towards the ground.

“Got a lot of practices scheduled for us, eh?” Ron said with a grin as he also started to drift downwards.

“Well, we’ve got to train two new Chasers and maybe two new Beaters. Of course we’re going to have to practice,” Harry told him.

“Great,” said Ron happily as they both landed. “So what do you want to do now?”

“I wish I could ride around on Sirius’s bike, to see what all it can do,” Harry replied. “Lupin said it could fly.”

“I don’t think Mum will let you on it. I wouldn’t want a repeat of two days ago,” Ron said grimly.

“It’s okay. How about we go see what Hermione and Ginny are up to?” Harry suggested.

“Oh great, just what I want to do, go see what two teenage girls with hormones are up to. They’re probably whispering in each other’s ear and giggling,” Ron muttered.

Harry chuckled as they walked back towards the house. “Giggling about what?” he asked.

“About whatever it is girls giggle about. How should I know?” Ron said with a shrug as they walked into the house.

They found Hermione and Ginny in the living room talking, but they weren’t giggling. “What are you two up to?” Ron asked as he plopped down on a couch that had several patches in it.

“We’re talking,” Hermione said. “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“About what?” Harry asked as took a seat in one of the chairs.

“About whose broomstick is bigger, Viktor Krum’s or Oliver Wood’s,” Ginny said nonchalantly. Harry and Ron gaped. “Oh grow up! Of course we weren’t talking about that,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes.

“Thank God!” Ron cried, looking disgusted. “Who would give a damn about Vicky anyhow?”

Hermione just frowned, shook her head, and turned to Harry. “I expected you two to be out longer,” she said.

“Harry’s tired,” Ron said.

“Bad night?” she asked.

“More like a late night,” Ron told her. “He stayed up past three.”

“Harry is capable of answering himself, you know,” Hermione scowled, then turned back to Harry once again. “Past three?”

He nodded. “I had a lot of thinking to do.”

A small frown played over her features. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

He shrugged. “Some things became clearer.”

“That’s good.”

Ron was looking more and more confused as Harry and Hermione kept talking. “Would somebody like to tell me what you two are talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it, Ron,” Harry murmured as he looked outside. “It’s a nice day outside. What do you all want to do?”

“I thought you were tired,” Ron said incredulously.

“I’m feeling a little more energized now,” Harry said. “How about for lunch we go out and have a picnic in the field?”

“That sounds nice,” Hermione murmured.

“I’ll go grab us a blanket,” Ginny said and launched herself from her seat and up the stairs.

“Come on, Ron, let’s go make some sandwiches,” Harry said and took off for the kitchen.

“The man is too tired for Quidditch but now he wants to make sandwiches for a picnic,” Ron griped as he followed Harry.

“Oh, quit whining, Ron,” Hermione said with a chuckle as she went over and grabbed a basket off of a self in the kitchen.

“I’m not!”

“You are too,” Hermione said with a laugh as Harry grabbed some bread.

“I am not,” Ron muttered as he got out some ham.

“Oh, please, don’t start, you two,” Harry said as he shuffled around the kitchen.

“I’ve got the blanket!” Ginny said when she arrived back downstairs.

“I’m not whining,” Ron said earnestly as both he and Harry started to make the sandwiches.

“Sounds like you are,” Ginny commented as she set the blanket down.

“What is it, Gang Up on Ron Day?” he muttered as banged his head against the counter.

*****

Later on, all four of them were sitting on the blanket underneath a large oak tree near the edge of the field, munching on sandwiches and talking about the upcoming school year and what they wished would happen.

“No, no,” Ron said as he talked around a mouthful of food, “it would be better if Snape showed up late during the welcoming feast in a skirt and blouse.”

“I knew he was a cross-dresser,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Ugh, I wouldn’t want to see Snape in a skirt. Imagine his legs,” Ginny said and they all shuddered.

“Yeah, they’re best kept hidden,” Hermione agreed.

“He’s got chicken legs,” Harry said as he took a swig of chilled pumpkin juice.

The other three stared at him. “How d’you know that?” Ron asked.

Harry opened his mouth, about to explain what he saw in Snape’s Pensieve, but thought better of it. “Remember in our third year when Neville put the Snape boggart in a dress?”

Ron and Hermione started laughing, but Ginny pouted. “I didn’t get to see it.”

“Remember that funny stuffed vulture hat Neville’s gran wears?” Ron asked her. When she nodded, Ron chuckled and said, “Now imagine Snape in that hat wearing a green dress.”

Quite suddenly, Ginny burst out in laughter and the others joined her as the memory played in their minds. Hermione sighed. “We don’t get enough moments like these anymore.”

“No, we don’t,” Ron said as they all went quiet. Then, Ron snorted in laughter and muttered, “Snape in a dress,” bringing forth another onslaught of laughter.

*****

That night found Harry and Ron in Ginny and Hermione’s room. All of them were sitting on the floor and somehow Ginny had gotten them all to consent to a game of Truth or Dare, much to Ron’s chagrin.

“Really, why are we playing such a girly game?” Ron asked.

“Because this ‘girly’ game can be a lot of fun,” Ginny said. “Harry: truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he muttered and awaited his question.

“Did you ever think about really naughty things when it came to Cho Chang?”

“I’m a teenage guy. What do you think?” he said as Ron laughed and Hermione frowned.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ginny said with a grin.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ron: truth or dare?”

“Er—Dare,” Ron replied.

“Okay. I dare you to go tell your Mum that you wet the bed last night,” Harry said.

“What!”

“You heard me,” Harry said with a grin.

Five minutes later, Ron walked back into the room, his face extremely red. “Ginny: truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Just how many times did you kiss that Michael Corner?”

Ginny thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I have no idea. Too many times to count, really.”

Somehow, Ron’s face turned even redder. “That bastard! I’m going to kill him!”

Ginny laughed. “Hermione: truth or dare?”

Hermione shrugged. “Dare, I suppose.”

Ginny grinned wickedly. “I dare you to kiss Harry.”

Both of them turned red. Harry turned to Hermione, who looked quite panicked, but suddenly a small gleam came into her eye and she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

“Hey!” Ginny cried.

“You never said where,” Hermione said in triumph. “And Harry, have you ever thought about shaving? You feel like sandpaper.”

Ron and Ginny laughed and Harry rubbed his hand over his cheek. “Is it really that bad?”

“Well, unless you’re aiming to grow a beard,” Hermione told him with a smirk.

He rubbed his hand over his cheek again. “So maybe I’ll shave tomorrow. I’ll need a razor though.”

“Don’t worry. With so many boys in the house, we always have an abundance of razors,” Ginny said somewhat irritably.

Hermione yawned and checked her watch. “It’s getting late and I’m getting tired. Why don’t we stop and pick this back up some other time, okay?”

Ron got up and stretched. “That sounds like a good idea. Good night, Ginny. Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Ron,” they both said.

Harry was still rubbing his face when he got up and said good night to the girls.

“Oh Harry, it’s not that bad,” Hermione assured him. “It’s just a little rough.”

When Harry went to bed that night, he suddenly wondered how bad he would be at shaving.

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Ron said when he expressed his concern to him. “You should have seen Percy. Bloody fool cut himself about twelve times the first time he shaved.” This gave little comfort to Harry as he fell into a restless sleep.

At first, he dreamed about a dragon, something that looked strangely like a cross between Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback, which used to belong to Hagrid, and that Hungarian Horntail he faced in the first task in the Triwizard Tournament. He was flying around on his Firebolt as the dragon breathed flames up at him. Suddenly, he heard someone panting behind him and he turned around to see Wormtail.

“You called, my master?” he asked.

“Remember your little assignment I sent you on in Romania?” Harry asked him quietly.

“Of course, my lord. Your faith in me is all—”

“Silence! I have another job for you. But first, how are things at the manor?

“The manor? Everything is well, Master. She is doing well,” Wormtail informed him.

“Good. Now, on to your new mission. Order up some others and send them to Southampton. Then, send our new Romanian allies along with Flint.”

“Flint, sir? Senior or junior?”

“Senior. Judas will lead them. You can send young Marcus with the entourage to Southampton,” Harry told him.

“Yes, my lord. Where would you like Judas to go, Master?”

“Judas Flint shall take our new friends and attack the town of Ottery St. Catchpole,” Harry said with a malicious smile.

“Yes, Master,” Wormtail said, but Harry could feel is confusion.

“You’re bewildered by my orders, Wormtail,” Harry said with a scowl.

“No, Master. I do as you—”

“Quiet you insolent fool! That miserable town is where the Weasley family lives. Understand now, Wormtail? We will not only divide up those pathetic Aurors with our double attack, but also we will have dealt a painful blow to Harry Potter.”

At that, Harry woke up with a strangled cry, waking Ron.

“What is it, Harry?” he asked.

“Go! We’ve got to get out of here! They’re coming!” Harry yelled as he jumped out of bed. “They’re coming!” he repeated as he fumbled towards the door in the darkness.

“Who?” Ron asked, still in his bed.

“The Death Eaters!”

If Harry could have seen Ron’s face, he’d know that his friend had gone extremely pale.

“You saw it?”

“Yes. I was…I was in Voldemort’s head again. I saw what he did,” Harry said.

“I’ll go tell Mum and Dad,” Ron said quietly and rushed towards the door.

“I’ll go wake up Hermione and Ginny,” Harry said and wrenched open the door before taking off down the stairs.

After some mumbling from Hermione and a “What the hell?” out of Ginny, everyone was in the kitchen, frantic, as Mr. Weasley stuck, his head into the fireplace to contact the Order.

“They’ll notify the Aurors and be here in a second,” Mr. Weasley told them once he removed his head. Suddenly, there were two loud CRACKs and both Lupin and Moody were in the kitchen.

“The Ministry is sending Aurors here and to Southampton,” Lupin said.

“Everybody go get your trunks!” Moody ordered. “Grab enough clothes for a few days.”

They all traveled back upstairs quickly and packed. Harry stuffed Hedwig in her cage as Ron grabbed Pigwidgeon and Hermione took Crookshanks. By the time they returned, Lupin ushered them outside as Moody took hold of a kitchen ladle, muttered “Portus,” and headed outside.

“Wait, my broom!” Ron cried and headed off towards the broom shed.

“Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley screamed.

Harry took off after him. “Ron, forget about it!” But Ron had already wrench open the doors and was grabbing both his Cleansweep and Harry’s Firebolt. “Ron, let’s go,” Harry said, but then his eyes rested upon Sirius’s motorcycle. Suddenly, they heard an explosion from within the town. Running away from the shed, they saw that a large portion of Ottery St. Catchpole was on fire.

“Get moving,” Harry said quietly and headed back for the motorcycle.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” Harry said as he took a hold of the bike.

“Harry!”

“GO!” he bellowed as he hopped on and kicked the engine into life.

Ron ran and Harry took off. He heard someone behind him shout, “Harry, wait!” He turned his head to see Lupin running towards him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Taking care of business,” Harry replied.

“Harry—”

“You’re going to Grimmauld Place, right? I’ll meet you there,” Harry told him. “Just tell me how to make this thing fly.”

Lupin sighed. “Molly’s going to kill me, you know,” he said as he pointed to a small pedal by his right foot. “There. Hit that and you start flying.”

Harry revved the engine. “Thanks,” he said and took off.

Somehow, Harry found riding a motorcycle as natural as flying on a broomstick, although he had never even ridden on a bicycle. The wind blew in his hair as he sped down towards the town faster and faster until finally he passed a smoking house and saw people running and screaming.

He slowed a bit to assess the scene. People were everywhere, escaping from burning homes and running from whom Harry figured were the Death Eaters. Suddenly, a man with gelled-back green hair and a leather jacket walked out into the road, laughing at the sight around him. As woman passed, screaming, and with an excited cry he ran off after her.

Harry gunned the engine and took off after them. Within an instant, Harry was next to the green-haired man and he kicked out hard with his leg, knocking the man down. Harry stopped and turned back to find an incredible surprise. The man was standing up already, laughing harder than ever.

“Stupid human. Like that would kill me,” he said with an accent that sounded a little like Viktor Krum’s. Before Harry knew what was happening, the man jumped an unnatural length and knocked both Harry and his bike over.

“You’re just a lousy kid,” he said as he looked at Harry closely and then he grinned. “I always liked my food young.”

Quite suddenly, Harry felt something bite him and it took him a moment to realize that it was the man that was biting him. He tried to kick him off, but the man was extremely strong.

There was a WHOOSH in the air and man jumped up, howling in pain. He twisted his body and Harry could see a long wooden arrow sticking out of his back. With another twist, he fell and laid quite lifeless in the street. Harry finally realized that the man had long, white fangs.

“Hey there, are you…Harry?” asked a man with a deep voice. Harry looked over at the other man and recognized him to be Kingsley Shacklebolt. In his hands was a crossbow.

“Kingsley!” Harry gasped as the tall Auror helped him up. “What was that thing?”

“A vampire. What are you doing here?”

“A vampire? A real vampire?”

“Yes,” Kingsley said. “What are you doing here?”

“Fighting a war,” Harry replied.

“Are you bleeding? Did he bite you?” he asked.

“Yeah…wait, am I going to become a vampire?”

“I don’t know, did you bite back?”

“No.”

“Then no, you won’t. But I don’t want there to be another chance that you will be one. Get on your bike and get out of here, Harry,” Kingsley said.

“No,” Harry said defiantly.

“This is no place for you. Get going!”

“No,” he said more firmly.

“Come on Harry,” he said and tried to grab Harry’s arm.

“I said no!” Harry said and stood his ground. “How do you kill vampires?”

Gritting his teeth, Kingsley reached into a satchel on his belt and pulled out a wooden stake. “Pierce this into their heart.”

“That’s it?” he asked and took the stake from him.

“Unless you want to throw holy water or decapitate them. Garlic wards them off, too,” Kingsley told him.

“Right,” Harry said and took off.

“Be careful!” Kingsley called after him.

Harry ran around, searching. There were people lying dead in the road, some burnt to death, some with two bite marks on their necks. The first one Harry came across sent him over to a nearby bush to hurl.

Eventually, Harry became accustomed to death and the metallic smell of blood as he continued searching. Suddenly, he heard a heart-wrenching scream only a few meters away in an alley. He ran to the mouth of it and saw a woman being pinned to a wall by a vampire with extremely long brown hair, sucking on her neck.

“Help me, please!” the woman begged and the vampire turned around to see who she could be talking to.

Fear rushed through Harry’s body as the vampire released the woman and faced him. Blood covered his pale face and his eyes were an eerie light gray. He snarled and stepped towards Harry. Then he looked down at the stake in Harry’s hand and laughed. “Pathetic boy,” he muttered in a thick accent before he launched himself at Harry.

Harry grappled with the taller, stronger being and yet felt all of his fear melt away. He simply reverted back to his instincts whenever Dudley was around, ready to take a swing at him. He dodged a critical blow to the head, side-stepped, and brought his knee up to connect with the vampire’s abdomen. Had the vampire had the ability to breathe, he would have wheezed a bit, but instead, he just stumbled back and then charged at Harry again. Harry, however, was ready. He simply moved out of the way and tripped the vampire, sending him sprawling to the ground. A second later, Harry had him flipped over and the stake sticking out of his heart.

“No more meals for you,” Harry murmured and pulled the stake out once the vampire’s body went limp.

“Thank you,” the woman sobbed as she rushed over to Harry and gave him a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Now go on and get medical attention. You’ve probably lost a lot of blood.”

“What was that thing?” she asked.

Harry looked back at the dead vampire and replied, “A monster.”

After he and the woman parted, Harry found himself once again roaming the streets as the fires burned and people ran. Eventually, he entered the center of town and saw what he didn’t want to see: a man lying in street, his wand next to him. What was worse was that four other men surrounded the dead Auror; three of them were kneeling next to him, feasting. The fourth was wearing a hooded mask.

Harry’s blood boiled and his grabbed his wand. With one swift wave, he shouted, “Stupefy!” and all three vampires dropped, unconscious.

The Death Eater’s reaction was that of mild surprise, but his wand was at the ready and he was looking around for the attacker. When he spotted Harry, he laughed.

“My, my, I never thought I’d meet Harry Potter,” he said in a voice that made the hair on the back of Harry’s neck rise.

“You must be Judas Flint,” Harry said and watched the Death Eater jerk in surprise.

“Stupefy!” he yelled in anger.

“Protego!” Harry yelled and blocked the spell.

“Tut, tut, Potter. You know the rule: no magic if you’re underage.”

“Then quit forcing me to use it,” Harry shot back.

“You really are a smart aleck,” Flint muttered.

“Like father, like son. You’d know all about that,” Harry said with a smirk.

He could see Flint’s eyes go wide behind the mask. “You little—Impedimenta!”

“Protego!” Once again the spell was blocked.

“Crucio!”

At that, Harry dived out of the way as the curse hit a building, blowing a huge hole in the wall.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried and Flint’s wand went flying. “Accio!” With that, Harry had Flint’s wand in his hand. He laughed. “Ouch, beaten by a sixteen-year-old. Perhaps you should go back and practice dueling, Flint.”

Flint was about to launch himself at Harry, but suddenly somebody yelled, “Stupefy!” The spell missed Flint and, swearing, he disapperated.

Harry heard footsteps approach from behind him. He turned to see Kingsley coming his way. “Vickers!” he yelled. “Did you get him?”

“No!” shouted back the other Auror. “He disapperated.”

Kingsley frowned and looked down at Harry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, although the Ministry may try to expel me again. I—er—used some magic.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it,” Kingsley said and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Did you recognize the Death Eater at all?”

“Yeah, it was Judas Flint,” Harry told him. “Here’s his wand.”

Kingsley took the wand and stared at it. “Judas Flint? I can’t believe you got his wand away from him. How did you know it was him, anyhow?”

“The same way I knew they would be coming tonight. A dream,” Harry replied. “Is everything okay now?”

“The Muggle fire department is taking care of the flames and most of the vampires had fled. You-Know-Who probably doesn’t want his little army destroyed right away. I’d bet anything that they had orders to stir up some trouble and then leave,” Kingsley said.

“I wonder how bad it is in Southampton,” Harry mused.

“I wonder if they had vampires,” Kingsley said, but then focused his attention on Harry. “You better get going. Did Lupin move you all to Headquarters?” Harry nodded. “You don’t mind, do you Harry, that we use Grimmauld Place as the HQ? It is, after all, your place now.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Good. Now, let’s get you back to your bike so I can turn it into a portkey and send you to London. A cleanup crew will be here any minute to alter memories.”

“Okay.”

After reaching the edge of town and collecting Harry’s motorcycle, Kingsley performed the spell to make it a portkey. “Hey Harry,” he said and Harry sat down on the motorcycle, “good job tonight. You’ll be an excellent Auror one day.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks,” he said as he felt a familiar pull around his navel.

Author’s Note: I like to thank everyone for hanging in there with me. I have some great news though. I’ve graduated from high school and am on summer vacation, so I should be able to get a lot of writing done. Woohoo! I just want to say one more thing. This entire fic is no longer dedicated to Nitya just because. This story is dedicated to her because she has been there while I threw ideas at her and has always given me her honest opinion. So, thanks Nitya! (You’re blushing like mad, aren’t you?)

CHAPTER TEN

THE TRAIN RIDE

“Vampires!” Hermione exclaimed as she held a rag to Harry’s bleeding neck. “You mean to tell us you were bitten by a vampire?”

“They weren’t just any vampires. I understand it all now,” Harry said. “My dream, I mean. Voldemort’s new allies are Romanian vampires. He sent Wormtail to go get them.”

“Wormtail?” Lupin asked, who was standing in the doorway of the same room Harry and Ron had shared the previous summer in Grimmauld Place. “You mean to tell me Voldemort sent that scum on a mission?”

“Yes, and Voldemort’s got him doing something else,” Harry said, remembering another part of his dream. “Voldemort seemed very interested in something happening at a manor. He mentioned a ‘she.’ What do you think he’s talking about, Professor?”

Lupin looked deep in thought for a moment and then whispered, “I don’t know, but I am concerned.”

“We all should be,” Hermione said. “Whatever he’s planning—”

“—will more than likely be our doom,” Ron finished.

“The fact that he has an army of vampires is what worries me the most,” Lupin said. “They’re deadlier than what everyone thinks.”

“How could they be deadlier? They’ll drink you dry!” Ron exclaimed. “Harry, it bit you. Are you going to become one now?” he asked, looking very pale.

“Vampires are like werewolves, except with werewolves, if they bite you, there’s no hope,” Lupin said sadly. “However, with vampires, you have to bite back, and if you do…” He trailed off.

“What?” asked Ginny, leaning forward on Ron’s bed.

“It’s worse than being a werewolf. Your very soul is dead, as are you, yet you are still alive. You must drink the blood of another to survive. Being a vampire is like living in limbo, except that you don’t care, and it’s deadly not to care. All of that strength and no care in the world, except to keep feeding, to stay alive. It’s a deadly combination.”

“And now Voldemort has a bunch of these guys on his side,” Harry murmured.

“First Death Eaters, then dementors, now vampires,” Ron moaned. “What’s he going to do next, get the goblins to join his army?”

Lupin only frowned. Harry could tell that he wanted to stay something, but instead he just said, “You all should get back to bed. Good night.” With that, he quickly exited from the doorway.

“You didn’t bite back, did you, Harry?” Hermione asked, adjusting the rag, her eyes full of worry.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t be here if I had,” Harry replied and placed a hand over hers, which was still holding the bloody rag to his neck. “I’m fine, Hermione. Don’t worry about me.”

She gave him a rather patronizing look. “Then stop doing things to make me worry,” she said and removed the rag, then leaned closer to examine the wound.

“What was it like, Harry,” Ginny asked, “killing a vampire?”

“I honestly can’t believe that I did kill it,” Harry replied. “I mean, I’m not capable of murder.” In the back of Harry’s mind, he thought of the prophecy. “But the vampire wasn’t human; it wasn’t even alive. It was a monster and I could deal with killing that.”

Hermione was sticking something on his neck. “There,” she said when she was finished, “that should do it.”

Harry reached up to feel gauze and surgical tape around the area where the vampire bit him. He smiled up at Hermione. “Thanks.”

“I really hope this will be okay. If I had it my way I would have said we should have gone to St. Mungo’s,” Hermione said as she packed away the Muggle first aid kit that was for some unknown reason in the house.

“I’m glad Mum doesn’t know you’ve been bitten,” Ron said. “She’d freak. You would have gone to St. Mungo’s for sure.”

“People don’t need to know about this,” Harry murmured. “If I went to St. Mungo’s, there would be a story about it in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. The last thing I need right now is publicity.”

Hermione nodded as Ron stretched with a yawn. Outside the dirty window, the pale sun could be seen rising. “I’m tired,” he said. “I think I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Me too,” said Ginny, rising from the edge of Ron’s bed and walking over to the door.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Hermione commented and headed for the door. “Good night.”

“Yeah, good night, Hermione,” Harry replied.

“Even though it’s almost morning,” Ron added with a grin.

Hermione only shook her head and walked out, quickly followed by Ginny.

“What a night,” Ron murmured as he pulled the sheets up to his chin. “Try not to have anymore dreams tonight, okay Harry?”

Harry pulled back his own covers and settled in. “I certainly hope not, although this prickling I currently have in my scar makes me think that Voldemort’s—” Ron’s cheek twitched violently. “—angry. I wonder how many people were captured in Southampton.”

“We’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we? Good night, Harry,” said Ron as he rolled onto his side, facing away from Harry.

“Good night, Ron.” It took awhile, but Harry finally fell asleep and dreamt of men with long fangs and a cemetery.

*****

Within the next two weeks, Harry, Ron, and Hermione read the Daily Prophet to discover five Death Eaters were captured in Southampton and that Aurors had arrested Judas Flint. After a quick trial he was sent to Azkaban. Yet, Harry felt neither anger nor glee come from Voldemort during that time. In fact, Harry hadn’t felt any pain in his scar since the night of the attacks. He expressed his concern to Ron and Hermione as both he and Ron packed their trunks to leave for Hogwarts the next day. Mr. Weasley and Moody had gone back the day after the attack and had gotten all of their belongings.

“It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Ron asked as he folded up another robe and set it inside his trunk.

“You’d think he’d be upset,” Harry said. “He’s down five more Death Eaters and his vampire army has taken a hit.”

“That’s all part of war,” Hermione said from the edge of Harry’s bed. “I’m sure Voldemort realizes that.”

Ron shuddered. “But wouldn’t he still be mad?”

Harry nodded. “You’d think he would.”

“As much as I hate to say it,” Hermione said, “but he’s smart. Anyone who plans world domination must realize that his troops are going to be arrested or die.”

Harry slipped his Firebolt into the carrying case that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had bought him for his birthday and then frowned. “I suppose you have a point.”

Ron finished packing his robes and then carefully took his prefect’s badge and laid it on top. When he closed up his trunk, he slumped happily down onto his bed and sighed, “Done.”

Harry packed the last of his books and grinned before closing his own trunk up. “Let’s stay up here a little longer so your Mum doesn’t set us all back to work,” he said and sat down next to Hermione. Mrs. Weasley had them for the past two weeks cleaning the house again, although it still looked as depressing as the last time Harry was there.

Being back in Sirius’s house did a lot of things to Harry when he woke up later in the afternoon after they had arrived. He had spent most of the day up with Buckbeak the hippogriff, who was now under the care of whoever was around. In the time spent with Buckbeak, he brooded about his godfather, remembering everything, whether it was good or bad, about him.

Although Harry was aware that the house he was currently staying in was owned by him, he didn’t feel that way. It was Sirius’s house and now it was the Order’s house. The place would never belong to Harry.

“I’m happy they were finally able to get rid of that retched painting of Mrs. Black,” Ron commented. “She was a nightmare.”

Harry smiled faintly. Apparently Dumbledore had come in several weeks ago and was able to reverse the charm on the portrait of Sirius’s mother that make it stick to wall. He also was able to remove the tapestry with every one of the Blacks on it.

“It caused Kreacher to go into a depression,” Hermione said. “You have to kind of feel sorry for him.”

“I don’t,” Harry said. He was very pleased that he hadn’t seen the house-elf around anywhere because he didn’t know whether or not he would have been able to contain himself if he were to.

Hermione frowned, but then asked, “Did you two notice Lupin leave this morning?”

“No,” Ron replied. “He did?”

Hermione nodded. “You don’t think the Order’s up to something, do you?”

“Come to think of it,” Ron said, thinking, “Mum has seemed a little more worried this past week, don’t you think?”

“We haven’t seen Tonks in awhile. Perhaps she’s doing something,” Ron suggested. “Maybe it’s gone wrong and Lupin’s going to help her.”

“We haven’t seen Mundungus Fletcher around lately either. In fact, we haven’t seen either of them since my birthday,” Harry said. “Maybe both he and Tonks are on a mission together.”

“I doubt that,” Hermione said.

“Why?” Ron asked.

“Because Tonks is an Auror. Don’t you remember what Tonks said when we picked up Harry from his aunt and uncle’s?” She gave an exasperated sigh when the two boys looked at her blankly. “She said she had Protection Duty.”

“So?” Ron queried.

“So, that means that the Ministry has her very busy. I doubt she has time for the Order when she’s off watching over towns all over the British Isles,” Hermione said.

“Considering what happened a couple of weeks ago, it doesn’t sound like they’re doing their job,” Ron muttered.

“I think Voldemort knows something,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, like which cities are being watched and which are not,” Harry replied. “He’s probably got spies.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Hermione said and frowned. “I wouldn’t doubt it at all if Voldemort had spies amongst the Aurors, let alone the Ministry.”

Ron looked as though he was about to reply when Mrs. Weasley’s voice came up the stairs, “Are you all done yet?”

Ron groaned. “Back to work we go,” he muttered and got up, yelling back, “Yes, Mum!”

“Then get down here,” Mrs. Weasley yelled. “I have a job for you all!”

Sighing, the three headed down the stairs to see what exactly Mrs. Weasley wanted them to do.

*****

The next morning was hectic. Mrs. Weasley had everyone up at 7:00 to make sure that they were ready to leave by 10:15. Around 8:00, Harry was standing at the bathroom sink with a razor in his hand, staring at his reflection.

“Today, Potter,” he muttered to his reflection in the mirror, “you will not cut yourself with this thing.” He glared down at the razor. “You can do this.” With that, he lathered up and began to shave.

“Harry, are you almost done?” he heard Ron call from behind the door. “Other people have to use the bathroom too.”

“Give me ten minutes,” Harry called back. He heard a frustrated sigh and footfalls as Ron walked away.

At 9:00, everyone was down in the kitchen, bolting down their breakfast.

“Arthur and Charlie are getting cars from the Ministry to take us,” Mrs. Weasley told Moody, who was to be traveling along with them.

“I still believe there should be more than four people for this,” Moody growled.

“We’ll be alright,” Mrs. Weasley said, but she didn’t sound too convinced.

Suddenly, the kitchen door opened and Kreacher the house-elf came stumbling through carrying an odd assortment of candles. The moment Harry saw him, a vile, twisted feeling coursed throughout his entire body. He had a sudden urge you jump up and strangle the old house-elf.

“Kreacher, what are you doing with those and where did you find them?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Kreacher does not have to answer to the Blood Traitor,” he muttered. “Kreacher only must answer to those who belong to the noble and sacred house of Black.”

“No,” Moody said, “you don’t have to answer to Molly, but you do have to answer to Potter now.”

“The little half-blood does not belong to the sacred house of Black. Kreacher does not have to answer to him,” he muttered back.

“No, he doesn’t, but he owns the house now, remember?” Moody said roughly. “So you’ll take orders from him now.”

Kreacher looked over at Harry and then cast his eyes upon the floor. “Worthless half-blood; he’s not worthy to own my mistress’s house.”

“That’s enough out of you!” Moody snapped. “Return the candles and get out of here.”

“Kreacher does not answer to the one-eyed man,” he muttered.

Harry had had enough. “But you’ll answer to me!” Harry snapped. “Get out of the kitchen and get rid of those stupid candles!”

Kreacher jumped and glared at Harry. “Oh, if only the traitor had not given my poor mistress’s house to this foul-blooded boy, Kreacher would have been free to leave.”

“Now Kreacher, before I do something I’m not going to regret!” Harry yelled.

“Harry, please—” Hermione started.

“I can’t forgive him, Hermione!” Harry cried. “He’s the reason Sirius is dead! You killed Sirius,” he screamed at Kreacher, “you lying little son-of-a—”

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

Harry shook in rage. He looked down at Kreacher and said in a deadly whisper, “Remove yourself from this kitchen now.”

Kreacher bowed ever-so-slightly and backed out of the kitchen, muttering, “Rotten little half-blood,” over and over again.

*****

By 10:00, Mr. Weasley and Charlie had returned with the cars from the Ministry. Both of them inhaled what was left over from breakfast and by 10:15 were placing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s trunks in one of the cars.

“You’ll all be in the same car with Molly and me,” Mr. Weasley said as they started to load Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, and Crookshanks. “Alastor and Charlie will follow from behind.”

After a short and uneventful car ride over to King’s Cross station, Moody and Charlie went over and grabbed trolleys to load up trunks and cages. Then they all headed to platforms nine and ten and towards the barrier that would let them on to platform nine and three-quarters.

“Right,” said Mr. Weasley. “I’ll go first. Ron, Harry, you’ll go next with Charlie. Ginny, Hermione, you’ll come after with Molly. Alastor will come last.”

They all nodded as Mr. Weasley leaned against the solid barrier and suddenly disappeared.

“Alright, you three next,” Mrs. Weasley said and nudged Harry, Ron, and Charlie.

Harry and Ron walked forward with Charlie behind them, pushing one of the two trolleys. Without pausing, all three of them walked straight through and onto platform nine and three-quarters. A moment later, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley emerged too, followed up by Moody and the other trolley.

“Let’s get going so you all can find a compartment,” Mrs. Weasley said and headed down the platform.

As they followed Mrs. Weasley, Hermione reminded Harry, “Ron and I will have to go to the prefect’s compartment for awhile.”

“I know,” he replied, yet in the back of his mind he was groaning. He hated not being able to be with his friends for the whole train ride to Hogwarts.

“It’s not something I enjoy doing, mate,” Ron said. “It’s rather boring.”

“It’s nice to meet and get to know the Head Boy and Girl, though,” Hermione said vaguely as they found an empty compartment and climbed aboard.

“For you it may be,” Ron muttered as they slid their trunks inside. “Come on, let’s go say good-bye.”

They quickly got off the train and walked back to where the Weasleys and Moody were standing. Mrs. Weasley was hugging Ginny tightly as Charlie grabbed her trunk and set it on the train while Moody was grabbing Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, and Crookshanks and setting them aboard.

Not to far away stood somebody that Harry had no desire to see: Draco Malfoy. He was standing next to his mother, who looked distinctly displeased about being there. Malfoy glanced over and scowled at Harry, before initiating a conversation with his mother.

“I wonder what he’s talking about,” said Ron, who was also looking at Malfoy.

Before Harry could even open his mouth, Mrs. Weasley walked forward and wrapped both he and Ron in a bear hug. “You two have a good term,” she said. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble finds us, Mum,” Ron said with a grin.

A whistle sounded, warning everyone to get aboard the train. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny quickly climbed aboard, grabbed their respective cages (or for Ginny, a trunk) and hauled them into their compartment, where they all stood by the window and waved. Everyone else was scurrying aboard. Then, at exactly 11:00, the train started to move and they all stopped waving good-bye as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, and Moody were out of view.

Ron sighed. “Well, off to another year at Hogwarts.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, well, Ron and I should head down to the prefect’s compartment. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Have fun,” Ginny teased as Ron scowled and followed Hermione out of the compartment. She turned to Harry. “So, what do you want to do?”

“Er—I dunno.”

“Well, we could play—”

“Excuse me,” came a voice from the compartment door. Harry turned his head to find Neville standing there, along with his trunk and his toad Trevor.

“Hello Neville,” Ginny said. “Need a place to sit?” He nodded. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”

A bashful smile etched itself across his face. “Really? Thanks.” After a few moments of getting Neville settled in, they all finally sat down and Ginny brought out an Exploding Snap deck.

“So Harry,” Neville asked after awhile, “are you going to continue the D.A.?”

“I dunno. It all depends on what kind of a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we get this year,” Harry replied.

“I hope you do, because it was a lot of fun,” Ginny said.

“Fun? I was just trying to prepare people for what might come,” Harry said and examined his cards again.

“But it was fun, too,” Ginny said. “Y’know, getting to duel with others.”

Harry frowned. “But dueling with a Death Eater isn’t so much fun,” he said and waited for Neville to finish his turn.

“Some of us don’t know what that’s like,” said a voice from behind him and they all turned to see his dorm mates, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, standing in the doorway. “Wish we could have come with you,” Dean said.

“No, you don’t,” Harry muttered.

“Hello Dean,” Ginny said pleasantly. She jumped up and pecked him on his cheek.

“Why didn’t you write me back?” he asked her. “I sent at least three owls after the party.”

Ginny frowned. “Let’s take this outside, shall we?” she said, leading Dean out.

Seamus came in and sat down. Harry and Neville threw in their cards and sat back. “So,” Seamus said, “any clue who the new Dark Arts professor will be?”

Both Harry and Neville shook their heads. “Not a clue,” Harry replied.

“You two will never believe what I heard from Lavender Brown and the Patil twins,” Seamus said.

“What?” Neville asked.

Seamus snickered. “You know that big buffoon who always hangs around Draco Malfoy—Goyle? He’s got himself a girlfriend!”

“A what?” Harry exclaimed.

“A girlfriend,” Seamus said with a laugh. “You’ll never guess who.”

“Who?” Neville asked excitedly.

“That big mannish-looking Slytherin girl, Millicent Bulstrode!” Seamus shrieked in laughter as Neville clapped a hand over his mouth. “How fitting, right?”

Harry couldn’t help it, he started laughing too, but quickly stopped when Ginny walked back in, her face as red as her hair. “What’s wrong, Ginny?” he asked.

“Dean! He can’t seem to understand that I can’t focus all my attention on him!” she yelled. “We are so over!”

“You broke up?” Harry asked.

“Of course!” Ginny growled.

Seamus looked from Ginny, to Neville, to Harry, and then to the doorway. “I better go,” he said, jumping up and heading out the door.

“Boys!” Ginny huffed and collapsed onto a seat. “They think women are their mothers!”

Harry was about to point out that there was no possible way that he could think any girl was his mother when Ron and Hermione returned. “That wasn’t too long,” he commented instead.

“No,” Ron agreed. “Has the cart been by yet?” Harry shook his head.

“Well, Ron, you’ll be happy,” Ginny snapped. Ron sat down next to Harry and gave him a questioning look. Harry frowned. “I just broke up with Dean,” she told him, to which Ron cheered.

“It’s about bloody time!”

“Ron!” Hermione admonished and sat down next to Ginny. “Are you okay, Ginny?”

“I’m fine,” she muttered and went completely silent.

“So…” Harry began, testing the waters, “how was your prefect meeting?”

“Good. Oh Harry, you’ll never guess who the Head Girl is!” Hermione said as a big grin broke out on her face.

“I probably won’t, so why don’t you tell me?” he said with a grin.

“It’s Katie, Harry,” Ron said happily. “Katie Bell.”

“Katie?” Harry repeated. “Well, that explains why she’s not Quidditch captain.”

“It’s funny though,” Ron said. “She wasn’t even a prefect.”

“You don’t need to be a prefect to become Head Boy or Head Girl, Ron,” Hermione said testily. “You should know that.”

Ron was about to say something, but Harry cut him off to avoid a quarrel. “Who’s Head Boy?” he asked.

“A Ravenclaw,” Hermione replied. “Eddie Carmichael.”

“Oh, Harry, guess who’s the new prefect for Ravenclaw,” Ron said.

“No idea,” Harry replied.

“Luna Lovegood,” Ron said. “I wonder how she became prefect.”

“Many ask the same about you, Weasley,” said a cold, drawling voice from the doorway.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Ron said without looking over.

“You know, it never fails,” Harry said, glancing over at Draco Malfoy and his two thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. “You’d think that after his father is thrown into Azkaban and his family is disgraced, that he’d stop trying to prove something. Everyone knows he’s a wimp.”

Malfoy’s face flushed a light pink before he replied, “At least I didn’t get my godfather killed.”

Harry jumped up, as did Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. “Take that back,” Harry growled.

“Why should I?” Malfoy sneered.

“Because if you don’t, we’ll make you take it back,” Ginny said.

Malfoy sized Ginny up and laughed. “You may have gotten me good once, Weasley, but that won’t happen again,” he said, taking out his wand.

Ron took out his wand too. “You won’t go near her.”

“Try and stop me, Weasel,” Malfoy spat as he started to wave his wand, but Harry was too quick. He tackled Malfoy then and there. Crabbe and Goyle stared dumbly and both Harry and Malfoy rolled on the floor, both trying to get control of Malfoy’s wand. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville, stood back, gaping.

Finally, when Harry thought he had a good hold on Malfoy’s wand, he shouted, “Expelliarmus!” and the wand flew slipped out of Malfoy’s grasp. It was then that Harry realized that he hadn’t had a grip on Malfoy’s wand at all; he instead was grabbing Malfoy’s thumb. Harry let him go and stood up. “Get out of here, you little cockroach.”

Hair askew and face a light shade of pink, Malfoy jumped up and grabbed his wand. “This isn’t over yet, Potter,” he spat, turning on his heal and marching out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

“Nice one Harry,” Ron said and thumped him on the back.

“Bloody ferret,” Harry muttered and sat down on the seat. But what he couldn’t understand was how he was able to pull of a disarming spell without using a wand. True, whenever he was angry he was able to pull of great feats of magic, like when he blew up his Aunt Marge the summer before his third year, but nothing like that had ever happened while he was saying a spell.

“You okay, Harry?” Hermione asked, obviously seeing the puzzled expression on his face.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I’m fine.”

She frowned just as the plump witch with the cart came by. The rest of the train ride was very peaceful. Harry told Ron and Hermione all about what Seamus told him concerning Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode, giving them all a good laugh, while Ron and Hermione told them that, although they didn’t know exactly what was going on, Professor Dumbledore was going to hold a lot of different activities as the year went on. (“I suppose he just wants to keep us calm,” Hermione had said.) Before they new it, they were changing into their Hogwarts robes and the train slowed to a stop. Hogwarts was awaiting their return.

Author’s Note: I suffered through an incredibly major crisis while writing this chapter. Yes, I’m on summer vacation and thus have plenty of time to write, but the problem was that I wouldn’t see my beta readers as often, which meant horrendous delays. But thanks to my level-headed friend Jessica, we’re all set. Thanks again everyone for reviewing! There’s now this cool little feature that lets me reply to your reviews, so I may do that. So don’t be afraid to ask questions. If I deem them harmless, I’ll answer them. Anyway, on with the next chapter!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHANGES

Upon exiting the Hogwarts Express, the first thing Harry heard was the voice of Rubeus Hagrid yelling, “Firs’ years, firs’ years come forth!” Harry caught Hagrid’s eye and waved. The Care of Magical Creatures teacher and gamekeeper grinned and waved back. “Hullo, Harry!” he called.

“Hey Hagrid!” Harry called back as he followed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny over to an empty stagecoach. He turned in time to see the black horse-like creatures called thestrals.

“You okay Harry?” Hermione asked, poking her head out of the coach as Ron helped pull Harry’s trunk inside and Ginny grabbed both Hedwig and Pigwidgeon.

Harry eyed the black horses and climbed inside. “It’s the thestrals. I doubt I’ll ever get used to them.”

The coach took off and headed for Hogwarts. “If I could see them,” Ron was saying, “I doubt I’d get used to them either.”

The ride up to the school was marginally quiet. Hermione was peering inside of Crookshanks’ cage and cooing, “We’re almost there.”

Ron scowled at her and turned to Harry. “Well, I suppose the big mystery about who the new Dark Arts teacher will be solved soon.”

Harry nodded as he coach came to a stop. “Time to get out,” he said and opened up the door.

They climbed out and grabbed their trunks and cages. Ahead of them, Harry saw Malfoy look back and scowl. Ginny adjusted her robes and looked up at Malfoy too.

“What an asshole,” she muttered and grabbed her trunk, heading towards the large oak front doors.

“Let’s get in,” Ron murmured as he dragged his trunk towards the doors. “I’m starving.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him, while Harry turned his head, looking back at the thestrals. He didn’t suppose they were that bad, especially after they took him to the Department of Mysteries last June.

“Hey, Harry! Are you coming?” Ron called.

Harry looked back to see Ron and Hermione waiting for him by the door. “Come on,” Ron urged, “the feast!”

As they entered through the large oak doors, they heard someone ahead of them squeal and cry, “Ewwww!”

Harry looked ahead and saw a forth year girl trying to pull what looked to be gum out of her hair. A second later, another person was yelling, also with gum in their hair.

“Peeves,” Hermione muttered, gesturing towards the ceiling. She walked towards him with a purposeful stride. “Peeves! Stop that immediately!”

Next to Harry, Ron whispered, “Yep, that will do loads of good right there.” Harry laughed.

“Why look at Perfect Prefect Granger!” Peeves boomed joyously. He popped another piece of gum into his mouth and chewed.

Hermione removed her wand from her robes cautiously as Harry and Ron watched from the other side of the entrance hall. “Leave us all alone, Peeves,” Hermione demanded. “You’ve plenty of other chances to pick on us, so leave us alone for now.”

“Oh no, Hermy, I must give the lil’uns a taste,” he said while he chewed, “of what it is like to be at Hogwarts. And the big’uns could do with a reminder,” he finished and spat out his gum right at Hermione.

But Hermione was ready. Raising her wand, she yelled, “Waddiwasi!” and sent the gum flying back up at Peeves and straight into his nose. Hermione smirked. “Now go!”

Peeves cursed violently and flew off, knocking over a suit of armor on the way. Hermione turned back and was just about to be congratulated by Harry and Ron when Professor McGonagall yell, “Miss Granger!”

Hermione froze dead in her tracks as Professor McGonagall stalked over towards her. “I can’t believe it—you know the rules—a prefect no less—” she muttered.

“But Professor,” Ron said, “all Hermione did was get Peeves to go away so he wouldn’t bother us. You can’t possibly punish her for that.”

“You know the rules, Weasley,” McGonagall said severely.

“But she was just doing her prefect duties,” Ron said imploringly.

“If Hermione hadn’t done what she did,” Harry said reasonably, “more people would be walking into the Great Hall with gum in their hair. Now surely that must count for something.”

Professor McGonagall sighed. “Very well. Miss Granger, while I thank you for getting Peeves out of here, please let a teacher handle it next time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione said quietly.

“Professor McGonagall?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Potter?”

“I—er—wanted to thank you for making me Quidditch captain,” he said quietly.

Professor McGonagall’s face formed a slight grin. “You’re welcome, Mr. Potter. Now, all of you, get into the Great Hall. I must meet the first years.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly slid off into the Great Hall, where they sat down near Neville, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil.

“You could say thank you, y’know, Hermione,” Ron said.

“For whatever help you did, Ron, thank you,” she muttered and then turned to Harry. “Thanks for your help too.”

Harry shrugged. “I never thought I’d see that day that I would be trying to get you out of trouble,” he murmured with a smirk. Hermione smiled.

“So,” Parvati was saying to Lavender, “your little brother is being sorted?”

“Yes,” Lavender said with a scowl. “That boy’s a menace. I sort of hope that he isn’t in Gryffindor.”

“You have a little brother?” Ron asked.

“Yes, and he idolizes your brothers, Weasley. He thinks that those twins were the coolest people to ever walk this earth. He’s already bought loads of their products in Diagon Alley. Rotten little bugger, that’s what he is,” Lavender said.

“That’s just what we need,” Ron said with a grin, “another Fred and George around here. What’s his name?”

“Dylan. I’d bet you anything the first chance he gets he’ll jump into the lake. The boy loves to swim and doesn’t fear anything,” Lavender said. “He once jumped off the roof of our house. The idiot broke his leg. Mum was furious. She hates taking trips to St. Mungo’s.”

Ron snickered as Hermione looked up at the staff table. “Lupin!” she whispered excitedly.

“What?” Ron said, turning.

“It’s Lupin! He’s back!” Hermione squealed in delight.

Harry looked up at the staff table and sure enough, there sat Remus Lupin next to Professor Severus Snape, who was scowling.

“Snape doesn’t look to happy about all of this,” Ron commented. “But it’s great to have Lupin back. Defense Against the Dark Arts will be interesting again.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “but I wonder why he’s here. The last time he was our teacher, he quit after everyone found out he was a werewolf so people wouldn’t complain. Wouldn’t people just complain again?”

“Maybe Dumbledore doesn’t care,” Hermione said. “Professor Lupin is the best person for the job and maybe Dumbledore was able to persuade Lupin to come back.”

“But what about the Order?” Harry asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

Hermione could only shrug. “I don’t know.”

Harry looked back up at the staff table and scanned it before receiving another shock. “Kingsley!”

“Kingsley?” Ron murmured. “You mean that bloke in the Order who has the earring?”

Hermione smacked him. “Not so loud!”

Harry stared up at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was sitting between two other people that Harry didn’t recognize. The one, a man, had long flowing black hair, immensely deep blue eyes, and had a beautiful golden brown tan. He was examining the students with great interest. The other was a woman with short, dark blonde hair, and icy blue eyes. The difference in the look in her eyes and the other man’s was remarkable. The man had a warm look in his while the woman looked as through she could smash a brick wall with just one glance. She terrified Harry.

“Who d’you suppose those other two are?” he asked Ron and Hermione.

Ron shrugged while Hermione studied them. “Perhaps they are the ‘guests’ that we were told about during the prefect’s meeting.”

Lavender and Parvati were looking up at the staff table too. “Oooh,” Lavender whispered, “who’s that guy with the long black hair? He’s cute.”

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall entered, leading a line of nervous looking first years.

“It’s about time,” Ron hissed. “Some of us are really hungry.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and watched the first years as they passed. “We’ve got a lot of them this year,” she commented.

Professor McGonagall brought out a four-legged stool along with a patched and frayed hat. This was the infamous Hogwarts Sorting Hat. She set the hat on the stool and waited along with the rest of the school. Suddenly, the brim of the hat opened like a mouth and it sang:

Oh, we are living in times of peril

That most of you have yet to see,

It is time for you to find

Where you ought to be.

Whether you belong in Gryffindor

And are brave at heart

Remember it is at Hogwarts where

You made your start.

If I put you in Hufflepuff

You must be very loyal,

Either that or hard-working,

Willing to dig through the soil.

Ravenclaw is where you may belong

If you are truly bright,

With words of great wisdom,

You’ll find it hard to be in a fight.

Yet perhaps you belong in Slytherin

Where they value blood.

‘Twas Slytherin who left this school

And tried to drag it through the mud!

But what I tell you next is true

And please be kind to listen,

For if you don’t pay heed to my words

This school shall never glisten.

We are in very dark times

And must do the best we can,

So I beg of each and every one of you,

Respect your fellow man!

If you don’t then we shall be

At Mercy’s hand

Because if you split right now

It may destroy the land!

So, before I bore you anymore

With my simple song

Let’s begin the Sorting, shall we please

And find where the first years belong!

When the Sorting Hat finished, everyone clapped. “It wasn’t as long as last year’s song, thank Merlin,” Ron muttered.

“Yes, but the message is still the same,” Hermione said.

Harry nodded in agreement as Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment and said, “When I call you name you will step forward, sit down, and place the Sorting Hat on your head. Then, when you are sorted into your Houses, you will join them at their table.” She looked at her list. “Ashland, Diana!”

A small girl with brown hair and freckles stepped forward. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head when she sat down and Harry watched as it fell below her eyes. There was a moment’s pause before the hat shouted, “RAVENCLAW!”

The table next to Harry’s cheered and he watched as Cho Chang clapped happily as the girl walked over to her table and sat down.

“Auckland, Henry,” became a Hufflepuff while “Bowman, Paul,” became the first new Slytherin. Harry scowled as he saw Malfoy pat the young first year on the back. Lavender groaned when “Brown, Dylan,” was proclaimed the first new Gryffindor when the hat barely touched his head.

“I hope this year’s new batch of Gryffindors are a good bunch,” said somebody next to Harry.

“Hello Nick,” Hermione said as “Cranston, Victoria,” was made a Hufflepuff, “how are you?”

Nearly Headless Nick floated in a sitting position and smiled. “Excellent. Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore is no longer the leader of the Headless Hunt.”

“Does that mean they’ll let you join?” she asked anxiously.

“I’ll find out next month,” he said, beaming as “Eastley, James,” was made a Slytherin.

They went silent and watched the sorting. Harry took a particular interest in “Farrell, Hunter,” who did not look nervous at all, unlike the rest of the first years. He looked rather somber and Harry noticed that the Sorting Hat took awhile to decide which House he would belong to, reminding Harry somewhat of himself. Finally, the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table cheered.

They continued to watch and as “Matthews, Jessica,” was sorted into Gryffindor. Ron’s stomach gave a loud grumble. “Come on, come on,” he muttered, “some of us are hungry.”

At last, after sorting “Warrick, Alison,” into Gryffindor and “Winters, June,” into Hufflepuff, “Zucker, Adam,” was placed in Ravenclaw and Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll, taking the Sorting Hat and stool away. By the time she returned, Professor Dumbledore was standing up and calling the assembly to silence.

“Welcome, first years, welcome to Hogwarts! And for everyone else, welcome back!” He beamed down at the hall. “Unfortunately for your stomachs, I have quiet a few announcements to make, so I beg of you to please bear with me.

“First, I would like to announce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The fourth years on up may remember him well. I am pleased to announce the return of Professor Remus J. Lupin to Hogwarts!”

Everyone fourth year and up cheered and clapped heartily, as many would say that Professor Lupin was the greatest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that Hogwarts had ever had. Harry, Ron, and Hermione clapped the loudest while Dean Thomas whistled loudly.

After the cheering died down, Professor Dumbledore continued. “Now, as some of you have noticed, we also have three more people who aren’t usually in our number among us. Due to recent events, the Ministry of Magic saw fit to summon three Aurors to help protect Hogwarts from the evils outside this school. I would like you all to welcome our three Aurors: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Joaquin Crow, and Mara Frost.”

There was a polite spatter of applause as the man with long hair, Joaquin Crow, flashed a smile and Kingsley raised his goblet. The woman, Mara Frost, did nothing but stare out at the students. Harry felt a cold chill run down his spine.

Dumbledore called for silence as murmurs ran throughout the hall. “This year will be very different,” he told them. “As the prefects and also our Head Boy and Girl already know, there will be several different events happening this year as I see fit. I feel we need to have a little more fun.” Many more started murmuring after that. “However,” Dumbledore said louder, “we must also stick together. The older must help guide the younger. That is why I have decided to implement a mentorship program between the first and sixth years, and also the second and seventh years.”

“What?” Ron hissed.

“Next Monday,” Dumbledore said, “the first, second, sixth, and seventh years will return here after dinner and each first year will be given a sixth year mentor, someone they can ask for help and guidance. The second years shall be matched up with the seventh years. I will explain this more when you are all paired up.

“Well, enough of this old man’s wheezing. Tuck in!”

With that, every plate in the Great Hall was filled with an assortment of food.

“Can you believe that?” Ron groaned. “We’re going to have to baby-sit some little first year.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Hermione said. “Lord knows I wouldn’t have minded an older student helping me.”

“But why us?” Ron moaned.

“Because the seventh years are mentoring the second years,” Hermione said.

“This is all very stupid,” Ron muttered and started in on his steak.

“It’s all in how you look at it,” Hermione murmured. “But you’re going to have to participate, Ron. We were told on the train that everyone has to participate.”

“I suddenly wish I were a fifth year again,” Ron said around a mouthful of steak.

“Then you’d be taking your O.W.L.s again,” Hermione said, buttering a roll. “Maybe this time you could get more.”

Ron’s ears went very pink. “Hey, eight is pretty good.” Hermione frowned. “Eight’s good.” He looked desperately at Harry. “Isn’t eight O.W.L.s good?”

Harry was starting to get sick of their bickering. “Don’t try to drag me into this conversation. I wouldn’t want to sound like an old man bickering with his wife.” Both Ron and Hermione turned to Harry with stunned looks on their faces. “Just leave it alone, would you?”

Hermione looked taken aback, but said, “Okay Harry.”

Ron looked at Hermione, and then had a look of pain on his face. “Sure Harry. Whatever you want.”

After the standard warnings about the Forbidden Forest and a reminder to follow the rules, Harry followed Ron and Hermione out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircases.

“It’s good that we don’t have to escort the midgets up this year,” Ron said, to which Hermione scowled, yet she remained quiet, to Harry’s surprise.

They climbed up several flights of stairs and walked down several corridors before coming to a stop in front of a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress.

“Phoenix ashes,” Hermione said and the portrait opened to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

After they climbed in, Ron yawned. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll head off to bed.”

“’Night, Ron,” Harry and Hermione said in unison.

Harry sat down by the fire as Hermione waited for other Gryffindors to enter, probably to tell them to get off to bed. As Harry sat there, he had a sudden urge to read something. Quietly, he slipped upstairs to the boys dormitories and retrieved his mother’s diary from his trunk. Then, settling down in front of the fire, he opened up the small book to reveal that its first entry was written on that day twenty-five years ago. His mother’s first day at Hogwarts.

“What are you reading, Harry?” asked Hermione as she settled down in front of the fire next to him.

He turned to her and then noticed that they were alone in the common room. “My mother’s diary,” he murmured. “I’ve just started. I thought tonight would be a good night to finally start reading it.”

She gave an understanding smile and then eyed something around his neck. Before he could ask what she was looking at, she reached over and pulled a gold chain from underneath his robes.

“You’re wearing it,” she said in awe as the little golden pendant snitch gleamed in the firelight.

“I always wear it. Didn’t you notice?” he said as he took the chain back from her and placed it underneath his robes again. “I wear it underneath my clothes so no one tries to snatch it.” He opened up his mother’s diary again.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably and started to rise. “Well, I’m sure you want to read this alone, so I’ll—”

“No, you can stay if you want,” Harry replied.

“Really?” He nodded and she settled herself back down onto the floor.

“Here,” he said, moving closer to her so she could read. “Better?”

“A little,” she said. She adjusted one more time so that their shoulders were brushing up against each others. “There.”

Leaning in a little closer to her so she could read even better, they began. They read all about Lily Evan’s train ride to Hogwarts on 1 September 1971, about how the Sorting Hat considered briefly about putting her in Ravenclaw (which really sparked Hermione’s attention), about how unsure she was that she was going to succeed because she was a Muggle-born, and how she had met two mischievous boys by the names of James Potter and Sirius Black. They continued reading about her first week at Hogwarts and about how she really liked her Charms class, when the clock stuck midnight and Hermione suggested that they had better get off to bed so that they would be able to survive through classes the next day.

“Your mother sounds like a really lovely person,” Hermione commented as she opened the door leading up the girls’ dormitories.

“She was, at least, that’s what everyone says,” he said with a smile. “Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Harry,” she replied and headed up to her dormitory.

Harry looked down at the book one more time and headed up to his own dormitory, now marked SIXTH YEARS, and went inside. He was back at Hogwarts. He was home.

Author’s Note: You all are smart, I’ll give you that. And that’s good. It makes things so much more enjoyable for me, the writer. Thanks again for all of your wonderful reviews. Seeing the feedback you all give me makes writing this some much more worth it. Special thanks go out to Jessica, for quickly reading through this, and Nitya, who also did a beta job on this chapter. Thanks you two!

CHAPTER TWELVE

SCHEDULES AND SPHINXES

Morning arrived and Harry awoke with a start. He didn’t understand why he was up so early, especially since he had fallen asleep very late the previous night, thinking of his mother’s diary. He drew back the hangings on his four poster and looked out the window at the pale dawn, but it wasn’t his mother’s diary that was bothering him. Surprisingly, it was the role of parchment that Harry had not touched since the night the vampires attacked Ottery St. Catchpole. It was the broomstick. He had to make the broomstick, but he did not know how. He’d need wood and twigs and complicated spells.

The moment I try to fly it, he thought to himself, it’ll probably break apart.

Maybe he could pick Hermione’s brain about it. She would surely know what to do. Certainly she would not approve of him making a broomstick, but if he was subtle enough…

His resolve strengthened, he slipped out of bed and dug around in his trunk, looking for the blueprints. When he found them, he laid back in bed and opened them up, studying them as carefully as he had before he left the Burrow.

Pretty soon, he felt his stomach grumble, which seemed impossible considering how stuffed he was after the feast the night before. Putting the scroll back in the trunk, he grabbed his clothes, a set of robes, his mother’s diary and then closed the trunk before getting dressed. Then, very quietly as not to wake his fellow dorm mates, he opened the door and left, heading down towards the common room.

When he reached the common room, he was surprised to see a small girl, a first year no doubt, with blonde hair and brown eyes sitting in one of the big armchairs with her nose in a book. She looked positively Hermione-ish, in Harry’s opinion. He sat down on one of the cushy sofas and said, “Good morning.”

The girl looked up, startled. “Oh! Good morning,” she said as her eyes rested on Harry. She eyed him up and down before gasping and asking, “Are you Harry Potter?”

Harry wondered what her reaction would be before saying, “Yes.” He was quite surprised to see a smile form on her face and to hear her say, “It’s nice to meet you.”

He blinked. “Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Alison Warrick, but everyone called me Ally.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Ally,” he said. He was very pleased that she didn’t seem either excited or afraid to meet him. He grinned. “What are you reading?”

“Number the Stars,” she replied, “by Lois Lowry.”

Again, all Harry could do was blink. “Is that a Muggle book?”

She nodded. “It’s about this girl and her Jewish friend during the Nazi regime in Denmark.”

“Are you a Muggle-born?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She smiled again. “No. I’m a half-blood. My mother is a pureblood witch and my father is Muggle-born.”

“My parents were like that too, except my mother was Muggle-born,” Harry told her.

The door to the dormitories opened behind them and Harry turned around to see the same boy he had noticed the night before during the sorting ceremony.

“’Morning, Hunter,” Ally said.

“’Morning,” he mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“What are you doing up so early?” she asked him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, plopping down into the chair across from the first year girl.

Ally sighed, but then asked, “Have you met Harry Potter yet?” The boy known as Hunter cast his eyes over in Harry’s direction before shaking his head. “Well now you can,” Ally said. “Harry Potter, this is Hunter Farrell. Hunter, meet Harry Potter.”

“Hello,” Harry said with a small smile.

“Hello,” the boy replied back in the same monotonous tone.

“I take it you two know each other?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Ally replied. “Our dads—” Hunter stiffened. “—are best friends.”

“Were best friends,” Hunter corrected quietly.

Harry thought about asking what the boy meant by that, but he decided it was best not to. The three sat in silence for a few moments before the door to the girls’ dormitories opened and both Hermione and Ginny walked out. Spotting Harry, Hermione smiled and said, “My, aren’t we an early riser today.”

“Speak for yourself,” Harry replied, checking his watch. “They won’t even start serving breakfast for another two hours.”

“I couldn’t wait,” Hermione said, a gleam coming into her eye. “N.E.W.T. level classes start today.”

“And you, Ginny?” he asked, turning to the redhead.

“One of the girls was snoring loudly. I couldn’t sleep,” she replied with a yawn.

“You get that problem too?” Harry asked. “Ron and Neville could wake the dead.”

Ginny giggled before sitting down. “Well, I knew Ron was bad…”

Hermione was looking over at the other two occupants of the room. Obviously recognizing that they were first years, she smiled brightly and said, “Hello.”

Hunter, who had been staring into the fire, glanced over and muttered, “Hi,” before turning back to the flames. Ally, however, closed her book and said cheerfully, “Hello.”

“I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Ally Warrick, and he’s Hunter Farrell,” she replied, gesturing to Hunter. “He doesn’t talk much.”

Hermione smiled at Hunter, who merely continued to watch the fire. “Well, look, if you two ever need help,” She tapped her prefect’s badge, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Oh! You’re a prefect!” Ally said. She seemed more excited about meeting a prefect than she was Harry, much to his surprise. Not that he was complaining. “That must be so cool!”

“It’s interesting, to say the least,” Hermione said, grinning. She sat down next to Harry, while Ginny sat down next to her.

“So what do you have to do?” Ally asked.

Harry rolled his eyes and opened his mother’s diary as Hermione launched into an explanation of her prefect duties. He turned the pages until he finally found where he had left off the night before. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he began to read.

8 September, 1971

I have just realized something! I have been writing in this diary for a week and I still have yet to say anything about myself. How incredibly silly of me!

My name is Lily Diane Evans and I was born on 8, February 1960. I am the second and youngest daughter of Charles and Rose Evans, who are both Muggles. My older sister’s name is Petunia. My hair is red and my eyes are green, like my mother’s.

When I started to show magical abilities, my sister was terrified. Mum and Dad just thought I was “special.” They had no idea how “special” I was until I received my Hogwarts letter a few months ago. My sister looked more horrified than ever. I can’t understand what her problem is.

So here I am, learning everything I need to know to become an accomplished witch. In seven years’ time I should be able to perform the most complicated of spells.

While in Potions today, I met a boy named Remus Lupin. I think he may be a friend of that Potter and Black, because he kept glancing over at their table and they kept winking back at him. But he’s a nice boy, unlike that Potter and Black, who both walk around like they run the place. Their arrogance will be their undoing, I swear.

Remus is a shy person, that much is clear. He is very polite too. I could also tell, when Potter and Black weren’t distracting him, that he can also be very studious. He didn’t need to ask questions. He understood what he had to do and he did it, with my help. I wouldn’t mind being his partner again.

I do have something that I must learn about though, and fast. Several of my fellow classmates talk about Quidditch. A few of my dorm mates and practically all of the boys talk about it as if it was the greatest thing in the world. I understand it’s a sport, but can it be that great a thing?

Lily

Harry chuckled about his mother’s ponderings about Quidditch. She sounded like somebody he knew, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

The door to the boys’ dorm opened and a few fourth years stepped out, followed by Dean, Seamus, and Ron. Ginny looked over at Dean, scowled, and turned around, folding her arms across her chest.

“’Morning,” Ron said with a yawn as he rubbed his eyes.

“’Morning,” Harry replied and slipped the diary underneath his robes. For some odd reason he didn’t want Ron knowing about his mother’s diary.

“How much longer until breakfast? I’m hungry!” Ron groaned.

Harry checked his watch. “We could go down there now. We’ll be a good ten minutes early though.”

Ron considered this for a moment and said, “But then we’ll be the first to get food. Let’s go!”

Harry grinned. “Let me just go put something back and we can go,” he said, getting up and walking over to the door leading up to the boys’ dormitory.

“Okay, but be quick.”

Harry laughed and pulled open the door before running up the steps, taking them three at a time. After putting the diary back in his trunk, he headed back down the stairs and into the common room, where Ron was waiting for him by the portrait hole.

“Come on,” Ron said exasperatedly.

“Where are you two going?” asked Hermione as she stepped up behind them. It was apparent that her conversation with Ginny and the first year girl was over.

“Down to the Great Hall,” Ron said. “I’m hungry.”

“When aren’t you?” she muttered. “I’ll come with you. I’m anxious to get my schedule. I really want to attend my classes.”

“When don’t you?” Ron muttered as he opened the portrait and climbed out.

No one was in the Great Hall when they entered, yet plates were already set out. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their customary seats towards the middle of the table.

“So,” Ron said, “when are we holding Quidditch tryouts?”

Harry shrugged. “I thought I’d wait a few weeks, let people get adjusted to being back in school, then hold them.”

Hermione looked very approving of this idea, but Ron just scowled. “We need to start soon. We’ve got to replace at least two people. We need to gain balance so we can win the Quidditch Cup again!”

Harry blinked and then started to laugh. “Ron, you have no idea how much you sounded like Wood just there.”

“Wood knew what needed to be done when it came to the Quidditch team,” Ron said sharply.

“And so do I,” Harry said, not laughing anymore. “There’s a reason why I’m the captain, Ron.”

“And you asked me to help you, to give you advice. That’s my advice: start as early as you can,” Ron said.

“But I think Harry has the right idea, letting people settle in first,” Hermione said.

Ron sighed. “Forgive me, Hermione, but you know nothing about Quidditch.”

Harry laughed and Hermione scowled. “Sorry, Hermione, but he does have a point, on both matters,” he said, turning back to Ron. “I see your point, Ron, I really do, but I don’t think it would be wise to begin the first week of school, or even the second week. Tell you what, the day I see the notice for flying lessons for the first years, is the day I’ll post the announcement for tryouts.”

Ron frowned, but nodded his head. “Okay.”

By this time several people were starting to file into the Great Hall. Harry noticed Cho Chang walk in with a group of Ravenclaw girls, one of which was Marietta Edgecombe, who had betrayed Harry and the rest of the D.A. the year before when she told Dolores Umbridge of its existence.

“There’s the traitor,” Rom muttered, looking off in the same direction as Harry. He then turned to Hermione. “It’s a good thing you put that jinx on that paper. No one dared to say a word after the incident.”

Hermione was beaming with pride when Harry turned back to them. “With Lupin back,” he said, “there really is no point to continue the D.A. is there?”

“I still think it’s a good idea,” Hermione said. “It could become an official club.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Look at the loads of stuff you were able to teach us. I actually could pay attention.”

“But we have Lupin back,” Harry said. “He’s the greatest Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had. And his classes are never dull. Even Ron can stay awake,” he said, nudging Ron in the ribs.

“Hey!”

Food appeared on the table and everyone began to dig in. Harry immediately tucked himself into a plate full of sausage, eggs, and toast.

“Ow, don’ et me ong, I love m’Mum’ coo’in’, bu’ ‘Ogwar’s makes th’bes’ foo,” Ron said around a mouthful of hash-browns and pancakes.

“That’s all house-elf labor,” Hermione muttered.

“Wha’? Choo still not on abou’ tha’ spew, are ya?” Ron muttered and swallowed his food.

“When will you get that it’s S.P.E.W.?” Hermione scowled.

“Yeah, spew,” Ron muttered. “You’re still not going through with that, are you?”

“Of course I am! But I’m not worried about just the house-elves anymore,” she replied, causing Ron to spit out the pumpkin juice he was drinking.

“What!”

“Centaurs need rights, too,” Hermione said.

“Centaurs! Centaurs!” he turned to Harry, flabbergasted.

“Er…Hermione, I don’t think the centaurs want or care about rights,” Harry said, thinking of the time both he and Hermione were nearly killed by them in the Forbidden Forest.

“Look at Firenze,” Hermione said shrilly. “He’s an outcast in society.”

“Yeah, centaur society!” Ron exclaimed.

“Ron’s got a point, Hermione. Firenze was cast out of the Forest because he helped Dumbledore. You know just as well as I do about centaurs not wanting to help humans,” Harry said.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, take his side.”

“No, no,” Harry said, “I’m not taking sides. House-elves are one thing, Hermione, but centaurs are completely different.”

“Yeah. Just work on house-elf freedom first, and then move your way up,” Ron said before shoveling yet another forkful of hash-browns in his mouth.

Hermione scowled, but muttered, “Fine,” before going back to her breakfast.

Before they were finished, Professor McGonagall was sweeping up and down the table, handing out schedules.

“Double Transfiguration,” Ron groaned as he looked at his schedule. “Then after lunch we have double Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“I also have Arithmancy and Ancient Runes today,” Hermione commented. Ron looked at her. “What? Did you honestly think I would give up those classes?”

Ron glanced back down at his schedule. “I’ve got a lot of breaks in mine. And yes!” he shouted, pumping his fist into the air. “No more Potions!”

“Speak for yourself,” Harry muttered. He was scheduled for double Potions on Tuesdays and another class first thing in the morning on Thursday.

“Bad luck, mate,” Ron murmured, patting Harry on the back.

“But it looks like we both have Friday afternoons off after Defense Against the Dark Arts. How about you, Hermione?” Harry asked, examining both his and Ron’s new N.E.W.T. schedules.

“No,” Hermione replied. “I have Defense Against the Dark Arts and then Ancient Runes.”

“Do you have a break at all?” Ron asked.

“Er…yes—right after Charms tomorrow,” she replied.

Harry and Ron turned to each other, apparently both thinking the same thing, by the look of horror Harry saw on Ron’s face.

“Well, come on,” Hermione said, getting up. “We’ve got to go collect our things for Transfiguration.”

Ten minutes later, they were inside Professor McGonagall’s class, taking their seats towards the middle of the classroom.

“Congratulations on making it into N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration,” McGonagall said once everyone had taken their seats. “I told you that you could all make it.”

Harry looked around. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil smiled at each other while Neville looked extremely shocked to have the class at all.

“Now, you may have been having thoughts over the summer that now that your O.W.L.s are over, you are going to have an easier time. Let me take this time to strike that notion from your minds. Things are going to get harder, much harder. Before you had five years to learn the necessary skills to pass your O.W.L.s; now you only have two. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s get out your wands and begin.”

Professor McGonagall spent the entire class putting them all through the ringer. She made them vanish fetal pigs and turn ropes into snakes. Harry and Ron had trouble. The tail could still be seen on Ron’s pig and Harry’s snake had frayed ends. Hermione, however, was having no trouble at all. She vanished three pigs and turned four ropes into snakes.

“Excellent, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said. “Ten points to Gryffindor. Homework, two sheets of parchment on transfiguring animals into other animals.”

Hermione was very pleased when the bell rang. “That was fun,” she said.

“To you it was,” Ron muttered.

“I’ll see you two at lunch, right? I have to go to my Ancient Runes class,” Hermione said happily.

“Yeah,” Harry said as they parted ways on the staircases.

Harry and Ron climbed a flight of steps, as Ron grumbled, “I’ll need this break just to get ready for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Can you believe McGonagall?”

“That snake of mine was horrible,” Harry muttered as they passed a group of giggling second year girls.

They spent their time before lunch playing wizard’s chess and then met Hermione in the Great Hall. After eating their share of sandwiches, they headed up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room to see what Lupin had in store for their first class.

Lupin was standing at the head of the class, waiting for it to begin. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took a seat at the very front of the classroom, knowing that they were going to have a good experience that year. But who entered the classroom next made Harry’s stomach drop.

Draco Malfoy sauntered in followed by Pansy Parkinson and several other Slytherins.

“What’s he doing here?” Ron hissed.

“We must have Defense Against the Dark Arts with Slytherin now,” Hermione murmured and they all groaned.

By the time the whole class arrived, Lupin was smiling. “Welcome back,” he said. “I hope you all had a good summer.”

“Apparently you haven’t,” Malfoy muttered to his group, so loud that Harry could hear him, as could Professor Lupin. Lupin, however, was still smiling.

“I have quite a lesson for you all today, so, put your books away, grab your wands, and follow me,” he said, heading off towards the back of the class and to the door.

Harry felt a rush of excitement. It had been a long time since he had had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The whole class followed Lupin down the corridor and down the staircases, down the marble stairs and through the entrance hall all the way outside before leading around the castle and near the lake, where a magnificent sight beheld them.

“So,” said Professor Lupin, “who can tell me what that is?”

Hermione raised her hand, still staring at the sight in awe.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“It’s a sphinx,” Hermione uttered.

“Excellent! And who can tell me about the sphinx?” Hermione’s hand shot up again. “Hermione?”

“The sphinx has a human head on a lion's body, as we can all see. For over a thousand years it has been used by witches and wizards to guard valuables and secret hideaways. Highly intelligent, the sphinx delights in puzzles and riddles. It is usually dangerous only when what it is guarding is threatened,” she said, sounding like she was reciting a book.

“That correct. Ten points for Gryffindor,” Lupin said, still smiling. “Now, our sphinx is not guarding anything, but she still is tricky. Today we are going to work on safely warding her off, without having to go through one of her tedious riddles. Repeat after me please. Discedo!”

“Discedo!” the class repeated.

“Alright, I have a cage over by the edge of the Forest. You all, one by one, are going to walk up to the sphinx, slowly,” he added, “then, brandish your wand, and thus cry, discendo! The sphinx should be forced away from you. Try to force her towards the cage. Who wants to go first?”

Much of the class moved backwards, trying to stay away from the sphinx. “Ron,” Professor Lupin said, “how about you?” Gulping, Ron stepped forward. “Very good. Now, just remember to approach the sphinx slowly.”

Ron gulped again and set off at a slow pace. The sphinx, who was gazing off in the direction of the lake, turned and peered down at Ron, who paused, eyes wide in horror, and then took off again. When he was about twenty feet from her, he took out his wand, causing her to tilt her head to the side. Then, in barely more than a gasp, he uttered, “Discedo!”

The sphinx leapt to her feet, causing Ron to stumble backwards. Yet instead of harming him, she simply turned around and walked away before settling back down on another patch of grass.

“Very good, Ron, very good!” Professor Lupin said, beaming. “Okay, who’s next?”

“I’ll go!” shouted a Slytherin boy as Ron returned to where Harry and Hermione were standing.

“Excellent, Mr. Zabini. Go right ahead,” Lupin said.

“Good job, Ron,” Hermione said as Blaise Zabini stepped forward.

“Yeah, Ron, that was great,” Harry said.

Ron beamed. “I thought she was going to kill me when she jumped up, but I kept my cool.”

After most of the class went, including Malfoy, his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, Hermione finally went up for her turn. They were very close to the cage by the Forest’s edge. Hermione edged forward slowly, then shouted, “Discedo!” The sphinx yet again jumped up and moved away.

“Wonderful Hermione,” Lupin said. “That just leaves Harry.”

Harry stepped up as Hermione passed him. The sphinx eyed him, obviously knowing what lied ahead. Harry inched forward slowly, keeping eye contact with the sphinx.

“That’s it, Harry,” Professor Lupin whispered. “Very good.”

Slowly, Harry removed his wand from his robes and scooted about two more feet forward before coming to a halt. “Discedo!” he yelled and the sphinx jumped up.

“Great, Harry, now walk her slowly to the cage,” Professor Lupin instructed.

Harry walked slowly forward, forcing the sphinx backwards. Just as she was about to hit the cage, Lupin walked forward and smiled. “That’s good enough, Harry. Thank you. For homework, please write a page on sphinxes and some of their famous riddles, due by the next class. You’re dismissed!”

The class headed back up towards the castle, the Gryffindors all talking excitedly about Lupin’s class.

“That was awesome,” Dean Thomas commented.

“That was bullocks!” Malfoy drawled from behind them all. “Sphinxes! Since when did this class turn into that oaf’s Care of Magical Creatures class? And I was hoping to actually learn something this year.”

“You would if you’d quit sneering!” Hermione muttered.

“Maybe I would if you would stop trying to be the teacher’s pet, you little Mudblood,” Malfoy spat, making both Harry and Ron turn on him.

“Watch your mouth, Malfoy,” Ron warned.

“Or you’ll live to regret it,” Harry added.

“Come on,” Hermione muttered. “He’s not worth it.”

“You’re lucky, Malfoy,” Ron said, turning back towards the castle. By the time they reached the oak front doors, he was muttering, “If only I could get my hands on that slimy git without getting in trouble. That’ll show him!”

“Plan your revenge later, Ron; you have homework to do,” Hermione said. “I’ll see you both later. I have Arithmancy.”

“Homework,” Ron groaned as they parted ways with Hermione. “Must she bring that up?”

Harry shrugged. “Want to have a game of Exploding Snap?”

“Good idea,” Ron said as they made their way back to the common room, happy to have survived their first day of classes.

Author’s Note: Thanks again everyone for your fantastic reviews. I see that many of you are divided on whether or not you want your full-blown snogging scenes now or later. Hey, I have to keep your attention somehow, right? ;) And, as I keep getting this question…no, I’m not JKR, I’m just somebody who is trying to write like her and I have no clue if I am succeeding. Again, I have to thank Nitya and Jessica. Okay…I’ll shut up now.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

OUT OF THE BOX

Potions was right after lunch the next day, something Ron had reminded Harry and Hermione gleefully that he didn’t have to go to all during Charms that morning. So, after lunch, Harry and Hermione parted sadly from Ron and headed down towards the dungeons, where Professor Snape was bound to be in one of his moods.

They still had Potions with the Slytherins, but the number of Gryffindors in the class had dropped sharply. This seemed to make Malfoy, who was sitting over by Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson, very happy.

“Looks like those Gryffindors were too inept to make it into N.E.W.T. level Potions,” he sneered.

“It appears that way,” Professor Snape agreed, sweeping up to the front of the class, but not before pausing briefly by Harry to say, “Yet I see that some other inept wizards miraculously made it. I’m sure they’ll be gone before the end of term.” The Slytherins sniggered as Snape glanced loathsomely down at Harry before continuing on his way to the front of the class, leaving Harry clenching his fist in anger.

“Don’t rise to it, Harry, don’t,” Hermione whispered urgently next to him. “That’s just what he wants to happen; he can chuck you out of class.”

“This class,” Snape snapped, catching everyone’s attention, “will be harder than ever before. We have several potions to concoct, most of them highly dangerous, so much so that they are banned from usage.” Harry looked over to see Malfoy staring hungrily at Snape.

“We will be making poisons,” Snape continued, “and their antidotes. Today we shall begin the Nocturnal Poison. This poison, when brewed properly, will send its drinker into a coma, which is a lot better than what could happen if you don’t brew it properly. One tiny mistake and this poison is fatal, so be careful, because we will be testing this out on each other.

“We shall also be brewing its antidote next week. Therefore,” he said, taping the board with his wand, making writing appear, “follow these instructions with one partner and set to work, now!”

Harry and Hermione got to work. By the end of class, they, like the rest of their classmates, had only just finished chopping and slicing the ingredients they would need. After putting everything away, they headed out of the classroom. But before they did, Snape muttered, “I don’t know how you managed to make the grade to be in my class, Potter, but I promise that it will be rectified.”

Harry stormed out of dungeons and up into the entrance hall. “D’you hear that?” he muttered to Hermione. “He’s really got it in for me this year!”

“We’re not going to let him,” she said matter-of-factly. “Just focus Harry. You’re in there so that you can become an Auror. I’ll help you the best I can.”

He sighed. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now I have to go off to History of Magic, so I’ll see you later,” she said, heading up the marble stairs.

Sighing again, and wanting to be alone for awhile, he turned and headed out the front doors and onto the grounds. Down the sloping lawns he could see Hagrid out with a class, his students all sitting on the grass with something furry in their laps. Harry turned and headed towards the lake. It was quiet and peaceful, especially since no one was around. Finding a spot near his favorite tree, he sat down and stretched his legs out; finally able to think about something that had been on his mind from the moment he exited the train.

How was it that he was able to perform magic on Malfoy without the use of a wand? Had he been that angry with Malfoy?

Of course, his mind said. When am I not angry with Malfoy?

But he had performed magic at the exact moment he uttered the incantation to a spell. That wasn’t normal, was it? How many others around Hogwarts could do magic without the use of their wands? The only person he could think of was not a student. He could only think of Professor Dumbledore. What did that mean?

Before he could dwell on that anymore, a shadow appeared next to him. Looking up, he saw Ron staring down at him, a look of concern on his face.

“Why didn’t you come back to the common room after your class?” Ron asked.

“I wanted some fresh air. The dungeons, y’know…” Harry trailed off, only half-caring that he was lying to Ron.

“You could have come and gotten me. I would have loved to come down here,” Ron murmured.

“Sorry, Ron. I didn’t want to go back to the common room. That would have made me think of homework,” Harry replied.

Ron grunted and sat down next to Harry. “I haven’t even started mine yet. Don’t tell Hermione.”

“Why would I?” Harry asked, bemused. “I haven’t started mine yet either.”

“Part of me wishes we still had Divination just so we could make up stuff for homework.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, it was fun trying to predict my own death.”

“So how was Potions?” Ron asked, stretching out.

“Horrible. Snape’s out to really get me this year,” Harry said.

“Greasy git,” Ron said simply.

“Yeah. I wish my dad were here to hear about all of this. I can only imagine what he would do to Snivellus,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Snivellus?” Ron asked, a wry smile forming on his face.

“It’s what my dad and his friends used to call Snape,” Harry explained.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Er—Sirius,” Harry replied. He couldn’t possibly tell anyone about what he had seen in Snape’s pensieve. He didn’t want anyone to know that his father in his younger years was nothing more than a school bully.

“Oh,” was Ron’s reply before he snorted. “Snivellus!” Both of them started laughing uncontrollably. “I must tell Fred and George that one. It’s classic!”

“Another great moment for Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Well, not Wormtail,” Harry said darkly.

“Yeah, that little rat-faced traitor,” Ron agreed. “I hope, for your sake Harry, he gets what he deserves.”

“A trip to Azkaban,” Harry said quietly. “Let the dementors have their fun with him.”

Ron shuddered. “Want to go inside?” he asked. “Classes are nearly over with. Maybe we can persuade Hermione to help us with our homework,” he added with a wink.

Harry stood up and stretched. “Why not?”

*****

“You two have had so much time on your hands,” Hermione scolded two nights later. “You could have gotten your work done then.”

“But we didn’t have Defense Against the Dark Arts the next day,” Ron said as he poured over a book, looking for anything he could find on sphinxes along with Harry.

“Or Herbology,” Harry added. “We still have to finish up that paper on common Muggle plants.”

“Don’t you two remember what it was like for you last year?” Hermione scowled. “I would have thought you would have learned your lessons.”

“What can we say, Hermione? We’re pretty thick,” Harry said as he turned the page in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

“You’ll find minimal information in there,” Hermione stated. “I found some useful information in not only Dark Magic Monsters but the Monster books we use for Care of Magical Creatures.”

“We don’t need a whole lot of information, Hermione,” Ron said. “Just enough to write a page on.”

Hermione huffed. “Well, when you get a ‘D’ don’t come crying to me.”

“Who said we’re getting a ‘D?’ I say that this is at least ‘P’ work,” Ron said with a grin, causing Harry to laugh.

“Quit joking Ron! That isn’t funny!” Hermione admonished.

“Don’t worry, Hermione, we’ll keep our grades up,” Harry said as he flipped open Dark Magic Monsters.

“I just wish you two would take your studies a little more seriously,” Hermione sighed.

“Hey, we took care of that Care of Magical Creatures paper straight away,” Ron said. “We don’t have Hagrid’s class again until next Wednesday.”

“That’s because it was half a sheet of parchment!” Hermione cried. “That’s easy!”

“We’re fine, Hermione; we really are. Don’t you have some homework to do too?” Harry asked.

“Just to practice for Transfiguration,” she replied.

“You don’t need to practice,” Ron muttered. “You’re perfect!”

Hermione beamed. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Say Hermione? Could you read this and see if adding something about the sphinx attack of 1147 would be good?” Harry asked, holding out his paper.

She sighed. “Fine,” she said and took his paper, scanned it quickly, and then said, “No. Your paper needs to flow. Doing that would disrupt it.”

Harry looked at Ron and saw that he was in the same position that Harry was in. They both didn’t have a clue what Hermione was talking about. “Okay,” Harry replied. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, handing him back his paper. “You’ve had an experience with a sphinx. Write about that. It would work well with your paper.”

“Okay. Thanks again, Hermione.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

*****

The next day, after a morning of Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and lunch, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were back at the room they had last seen Monday afternoon.

“Okay,” Professor Lupin said. “Someone tell me one thing they learned about our activity Monday from their homework assignment.”

As usual, Hermione’s hand shot into the air. “You mean there was something to learn in that class Monday?” Malfoy muttered.

“Indeed there was, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Lupin said coolly. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“That sphinx you had us practice on was five years of age or younger. After the age of five, a sphinx becomes too intelligent to fear the spell you taught us,” Hermione said.

“Very good. She’s absolutely right. Five points to Gryffindor,” Lupin said with a smile. “The sphinx I had you practice on was actually only four. Big for its age, wasn’t it? So, for today, we’ll be learning about adult sphinxes.”

By the time class was over, Harry learned that when he faced a sphinx in his fourth year at the Triwizard Tournament, he was very lucky to have guessed the riddle and escape with his life.

Ron breathed a sigh when they left the class. “We survived the week. Nothing but a weekend ahead of us.”

“For you maybe,” Hermione said, scowling. “I have a class to go to now. How about afterwards we go see Hagrid?”

“Funny,” Harry said, glancing at Hermione, “I was just about to suggest that.”

Hermione smiled. “See you two later.”

A few hours and several wizard’s chess matches later, Harry and Ron joined Hermione in the entrance hall and headed out onto the grounds and down the sloping lawns to Hagrid’s house, where he was outside with his great boarhound, Fang.

“Well, hullo!” he said brightly when he saw them. “I was hopin’ you’d come an’ see me today.”

“Even though we just saw you yesterday?” Ron asked, an amused sound in his voice.

“Yesterday don’ count. That was class. We couldn’ talk then, really. So, how was yer first week?” Hagrid asked pleasantly, leading them inside his hut.

“Fine,” Harry replied. “Did you see the sphinx Professor Lupin had on Monday?”

“O’ course I did. I’m the one that got it fer ’im,” Hagrid said proudly. “I heard what he’s gonna make yeh tackle next. Should be fun.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“Doxies. Ever handle ’em before?”

“Yeah, at Sirius’s…” Ron began but trailed off, glancing over at Harry.

Hagrid frowned. “Yeah, nasty little buggers. You okay Harry?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry asked.

“Never mind,” he said quickly. “Do yeh all want summat to drink? Tea?”

“Sure,” the three of them replied and Hagrid set to work making tea.

“Hagrid,” Hermione prompted, “when did Professor Dumbledore receive word that Hogwarts would be playing host to three Aurors?”

“A few weeks ago,” Hagrid answered.

“Do you know why?” she asked. Harry suddenly felt very curious about the whole deal himself.

“Fudge be wantin’ to look good, I ’spect. But then, havin’ those Aurors ’round ain’t such a bad idea,” Hagrid murmured. “Yeh never know what could happen.” He passed each of them a cup of tea on a saucer.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea having another Order member here, do you?” Harry asked. “I mean, we’ve got you, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and now Lupin and Kingsley.”

“Yeh be quiet abou’ the Order now, Harry,” Hagrid warned. “Dumbledore knows what he’s doin’. O’ course, Kingsley comin’ here wasn’ nobody’s choice. Fudge sent him and Fudge don’ know nothin’ about no Order.”

“But don’t we need more people to—”

“Don’ worry about it,” Hagrid said shortly. “We’re fine.”

“Is Grawp still doing all right?” Hermione asked, trying to change the subject.

“Grawpy is doin’ fine. He’s bin a good boy. Dumbledore knows, o’ course. But we’re trainin’ him up so he’ll keep an’ eye on the Forest, so no outsiders can get in,” Hagrid told them.

“Outsiders? How could any…why would any outsiders want to get into that Forest?” Ron asked.

“Ter harm Hogwarts,” Hagrid said somberly. “Professor Dumbledore has bin worried about that.”

“How could they possibly—”

“Sirius did,” Harry said quietly, cutting Ron off. “He transformed into a dog and snuck onto the grounds by going through the Forbidden Forest.”

They were all quiet for a moment, before Hagrid grunted. “Ain’t nobody gonna get past Grawpy, that’s for sure.”

“Whatever happened to Fluffy?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“Fluffy? He stays out in the Forest. I show him to my N.E.W.T. level classes. Yeh’ll get to see him again,” Hagrid said and by the way his bushy black beard twitched, he was obviously smiling.

“Why doesn’t he help Grawp guard the forest?” Hermione asked and shared nervous glances with Harry and Ron.

“Between Grawp, the centaurs, and the other creatures in the Forest, Fluffy ain’t really needed. But I suppose I could suggest it ter Dumbledore,” Hagrid said as they all finished up their tea.

“I think that would be a good idea,” Hermione said.

Ron got up and stretched. “D’you suppose we ought to get back to the school? It’s getting late and dinner should be starting soon.”

Hagrid chuckled. “One thin’ about those Weasley boys, they sure know how ter eat. C’mon now, I’ll go with yeh.”

*****

The weekend went by quickly, and before Harry knew it, his last class on Monday ended with the ringing of a bell.

“I think it might be wise to start that Transfiguration homework,” Harry told Ron when they entered the common room. “It looks like it will take us all week.”

“Hey!” said a voice from behind them. They turned around in time to see Neville climb through the portrait hole. “Are you two ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Ron asked, puzzled.

“We get to start mentoring first years tonight,” Neville reminded them. Harry found it quite amusing that Neville of all people was reminding them of something.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ron said with a scowl.

“I wonder who I’m going to have to mentor,” Neville said.

“Who knows?” Harry replied and sat down.

“How are we supposed to be paired up anyway?” Ron wondered.

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Harry said.

*****

Hours later, as dinner started to wind down and people started to leave, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and cleared his throat. The entire Great Hall went quiet and the students stared up intently at their headmaster.

“I would simply like to remind the first, second, sixth, and seventh years that they are to remain in the Great Hall after dinner so that we may conduct the ceremony to begin the mentorship program,” Dumbledore announced.

“Ceremony? There’s going to be a ceremony?” Ron groaned.

“We’ve got to find out who we are mentoring somehow,” Hermione said.

Ron huffed out a breath and crammed a small muffin into his mouth.

Eventually, the Great Hall emptied, leaving the selected years behind. The plates were cleared and everyone left sat, waiting expectantly for Dumbledore to begin.

“Well,” he said, staring out at the younger and older students, “it is time to begin.” Carefully, he picked up a handsome wooden box with intricate carvings on the sides and set it on the table next to him. “This box,” he told them all, “is filled with each and every one of your names. It has been charmed to emit the names of a student and then it will find another student in the same house who shares similar qualities. I ask that, when I call your name, that you stand. Once you have been paired, you are free to leave with your companion.

“Now, I feel that it would be best for me to explain why we are doing this. My older students, I’m sure you can remember what it was like to be a first or a second year. How many of you would have appreciated some guidance when it came to the school, its teachers, and piles of difficult homework? How many of you, as you grew older, have lost touch with the younger generations that join the Hogwarts family every year? It is time for that to end. We must care for one another and help each other as much as we can. Thus, this program was born—a program that shall begin right now.”

With a tap of his wand on the box, it shuddered to life and began to shake violently. Suddenly, with a WHOOSH the lid of the box flew open, shooting a small piece of parchment into the air like a geyser shoots water. Dumbledore quickly snatched it. “Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he called.

Justin, a curly-haired sixth year boy in Hufflepuff, rose nervously from his seat as the box started to shake uncontrollably again. With a second WHOOSH, the lid flew open again and emitted another name, which Dumbledore caught and read, “Michael Drake.”

A small boy with a mat of brown hair jumped out of his chair, glanced over at Justin, and finally joined him. Together, the two left the Great Hall.

And so it would continue. The box would shake and open, letting a name fly out. Then after a pair was made, the two people would leave the Great Hall. Harry scowled as Malfoy sauntered out of the Great Hall, followed closely by a snobby-looking boy named Mathias Underwood.

“Ronald Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore called later on in the evening. Ron sighed and got up. A few moments later, Dumbledore called, “Dylan Brown.”

A boy who was unmistakably Lavender Brown’s younger brother, walked back towards Ron with a little bounce to his step. “Hi,” he said cheerfully when he met Ron.

“Hello,” Ron said and turned around, exiting the Great Hall with the boy.

“Didn’t Lavender say that he’s a troublemaker?” Hermione whispered from beside him.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Then no wonder Ron is going to be his mentor. After all, Ron knows how to get into trouble too,” Hermione murmured.

Not too long after, Cho Chang was paired up with a second year Ravenclaw girl that Harry didn’t catch the name of. Cho smiled at the girl as they walked out of the Great Hall, leaving only a handful of people left.

“Hermione Granger,” Professor Dumbledore announced. Hermione grinned and stood up, waiting for the box to spit out the name of a first year. When it did, Professor Dumbledore caught it and called, “Alison Warrick.”

“I thought that might be the case,” Hermione said to Harry as Ally Warrick jumped up and joined Hermione.

“Hi Hermione,” she said, looking slightly relieved.

“Hello Ally,” Hermione replied as they both turned and exited the Great Hall.

A few more names were called and people left the Great Hall. The only few left at the Gryffindor table were two seventh years, two second years, two first years, Harry, and Seamus Finnigan.

“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore called finally and Harry stood up, a sense of foreboding coming to him. He waited for a moment and then—“Hunter Farrell.”

Hunter, the quiet boy Harry had met in the common room on the first day of school, stood up and walked towards Harry.

“Hello Hunter,” Harry said with a small grin.

“Hi,” the boy replied, his gray eyes merely glancing over at Harry.

“Well, let’s get out of here,” Harry said and turned, heading out of the Great Hall with Hunter Farrell at his side.

“So,” Harry said as a little later as they walked down a corridor, “you and I must have something in common or we wouldn’t have been paired up.”

“I doubt that,” Hunter said quietly.

Harry frowned. Oh yes, this program was off to a great start already. “Why do you think that?”

Hunter spun, fury evident on his face. “Look, let’s get a couple things straight first. One: I don’t care that you’re the ‘Boy Who Lived.’ I don’t care that you’re famous. And two: I don’t need a mentor, so don’t try to be one. You don’t know anything about me, anything at all. So don’t try to act like you do!”

Harry sighed irritably. “You’re right, I don’t know anything about you, but that’s because you haven’t told me anything! I know one thing about you and that’s your name. You’re Hunter Farrell. I don’t know anything else about you. So don’t act like I’m trying to act like I do.”

“Whatever,” Hunter muttered. “But I don’t need a mentor.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “I don’t need to mentor anyone. I have more pressing concerns. So let’s just get back to the common room and go on with our lives, shall we?”

The boy scowled and stalked off. Harry watched him go and sighed again.

“You know,” said a portrait on the wall, “that was a troubled young lad right there.”

“Troubled?” Harry asked, turning towards the portrait.

“Aye, very troubled,” the portrait replied. “He’s hidin’ something. Makes me think of you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry scowled. “I am not troubled,” he growled and marched off.

“Whatever you say, laddie!” the portrait shouted back.

Author’s note: I just simply want to thank everyone again for their wonderful reviews. They certainly mean a lot to me. Again, thanks to Jessica for reading this long chapter for me. Don’t know what I’d do without her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SWEET SIXTEEN

Flying lessons were posted for the first years the following week. Ron immediately pointed this out to Harry and told him that he had better get moving on drafting up a Quidditch tryouts announcement.

“This Saturday,” Ron insisted.

“Fine,” Harry said. “I’ll start on writing it the moment I get back from class.”

“Good.”

“Say, Ron, what are you getting Hermione for her birthday?” Harry asked quietly.

“Hermione’s birthday? It’s this week?” Ron looked quite panicked. “I’ve got to get to the Owlery and ask Mum and Dad for some…” he trailed off, eyeing Harry.

“Better hurry then,” Harry said.

“What are you getting her?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, but I have an idea,” he replied with a sigh.

Ron frowned. “Okay. See you later,” he said and bolted out through the portrait hole.

Harry watched him go and felt as horrible as he usually did when it came to the Weasley family and their financial situation. Ron was very sensitive on the subject. Harry wanted to offer to pay for Ron’s gift too, but he knew that Ron had too much pride and would never let Harry do such a thing. The whole thing made Harry feel quite helpless.

After breakfast and Transfiguration class, Harry himself went up to the Owlery, knowing that his idea for a birthday gift for his bushy haired friend would be a good idea. When Hedwig saw him enter the drafty tower filled with owls, she swooped down and hooted at him cheerfully.

“Hello Hedwig,” he said and patted her head. “I’ve got an errand for you to run.”

Taking out some parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle, Harry settled himself onto the Owlery’s floor and began writing a request. When he was done, he took a small bag filled with Galleons out of his pocket, folded the note, and attached both to Hedwig’s leg.

“Go as fast as you can,” Harry instructed after he told Hedwig where to go. “This present has to be here on Thursday.”

Hedwig hooted once more, nipped his fingers affectionately, and took flight. Harry had faith in her; she would make it in time. After all, she had never failed before.

He headed down to the Great Hall, where Ron and Hermione were already sitting. Ron was chatting with Seamus and Neville while Hermione had her nose in a book, reading intently. He sighed as he sat down.

Hermione glanced up from her book. “Are you okay, Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, giving her a smile to prove it. “What’s for lunch?”

“Fish and chips, it looks like,” Hermione said, going back to her book.

“What are you reading?” he asked her, grabbing a plate and dishing up some food.

“My Ancient Runes homework. It’s fascinating,” she said, her eyes glazing over. Although Harry couldn’t understand how anything in Ancient Runes could be fascinating, he grinned anyway.

“Well it’s about time you got down here,” said Ron from across the table, eyeing Harry with amusement.

“Sorry. I had some errands to run,” he said and started to eat. Hermione gave Harry a quizzical look, as did Ron, but Harry just shook his head. “Nothing too important.” This seemed to satisfy them both. Hermione went back to her book and Ron started chatting about the Quidditch tryouts.

“Would you like me to go talk to Madam Hooch about reserving the pitch for Saturday afternoon?” Ron asked.

“No, I’ll do it,” Harry said.

“I’m thinking noon. You?”

“After lunch,” Harry said.

“Okay, fine. After lunch,” Ron agreed.

“Great. I’ll go talk to Madam Hooch after Defense Against the Dark Arts and then start working on the announcement,” Harry said and shoved some food in his mouth.

*****

And after Defense Against the Dark Arts class, that’s exactly what he did. He walked down to Madam Hooch’s office and knocked on the door three times. He waited patiently until she opened the door.

“Mr. Potter,” she greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could book the pitch for Saturday at one o’clock and get the equipment,” he told her. “I’m planning on having Gryffindor tryouts for that day.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m assuming you’ll need plenty of the school brooms, too?”

“Yes, please,” Harry said.

“Very well then. Come and pick everything up at twelve forty-five. Oh, and Potter, perhaps you could help me. Do you have any free time on Thursday?” she asked.

“Well, you could say I do seeing as my last class of the day is Astronomy, so I have the last class period off until midnight. Why?” he asked.

“Perfect. That’s when the Gryffindor first years are having their flying lessons. Perhaps you could come help me out,” Madam Hooch said. “I’m sure they would all love to meet the Seeker and captain of their House team.”

Harry knew he would have several misgivings about doing this, but he nodded his head anyway. “Sure.”

“Good. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon then, Potter. Good-bye,” Madam Hooch said.

“Yeah. ‘Bye,” he muttered and left, heading back towards Gryffindor Tower to inform Ron and Katie Bell of the tryouts and then to draft up an announcement.

When he reached the common room, he found Ron and Ginny playing Exploding Snap. “So how did it go?” Ron asked.

“Fine, although I’m going to be helping with the first years on Thursday,” Harry said and sat down near them.

“The midgets? Rotten luck, mate,” Ron said. “So, are you going to start up that Quidditch announcement?”

“Yeah, right now, in fact,” Harry replied. He searched around until he found a blank piece of parchment, an ink bottle, and a quill. “Do you think Dean would mind drawing a lion on the top of this for me?” he asked.

“Who cares?” Ginny snapped suddenly and jumped to her feet.

Harry gaped at her for a moment until realization dawned in his head. “Oh Ginny, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” she scowled and marched out of the common room.

“Still touchy I see,” Harry said when he heard the portrait slam shut.

“I’m glad I don’t have to live with her anymore,” Ron murmured. “I feel sorry for her dorm mates though.” Harry chuckled as Ron muttered, “Girls: nothing but a cluster of horrendous hormones.”

“And I should remind you that testosterone, that vulgar thing that makes boys think they’re men, is nothing more than a ‘horrendous hormone,’ so it would be quite hypocritical for you to say anything about us, Ronald,” said a fiery voice from the spot Ginny had just ran through. Turning around, Harry and Ron came eye to eye with a livid Hermione.

“Oh, hello Hermione,” Ron said cheerfully.

“Don’t ‘hello Hermione’ me, Ron,” Hermione said menacingly.

Ron’s eyebrows flew up and behind his bangs while Harry took a tentative step towards the angry witch. “Hermione,” he began cautiously, “are you okay?”

“An ‘A!’” she glowered. “I got an ‘A’ on my first quiz in Arithmancy!” Ron snorted in laughter, to which Hermione glared at him. “But that’s not all! I just saw Ginny. Which one of you was so utterly tactless as to mention Dean in her presence? Isn’t it enough that she must see him everyday? You two don’t have to keep shoving him in her face!”

“Calm down, Hermione,” Ron said with a grin on his face. “An ‘A’ in Arithmancy—”

“This is not about the bloody ‘A!’” Hermione yelled.

“Hermione, please, it’s all my fault,” Harry said pleadingly. “I’m the one who mentioned Dean and I apologized for it, but Ginny ran out anyway.”

Hermione cast her angry eyes upon Harry and slowly, all of the anger melted away. “Why?” she asked.

“Why did I mention Dean?” She nodded. “I wanted to know if I could possibly get him to draw a lion on the top of my flyer for tryouts. You’re right, I was being tactless. I totally forgot about Ginny—”

“It’s okay, Harry. You have so many other things on your mind. Ginny’s just a little emotional right now. She’ll get over it,” Hermione said and sat down.

From the corner of Harry’s eye, he could see Ron’s jaw drop. Sitting down next to Hermione, he asked, “Do you want to talk about Arithmancy?”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know…I’m just angry at myself, that’s all. I know I could have done better. I don’t know where my head was when I was taking that quiz. Professor Vector was disappointed in me, I could tell.”

Harry frowned. “So you had an off day, who doesn’t?”

“Yeah, Harry and I get those type of marks all the time,” Ron piped in.

Hermione glared at him. “You’ll get an ‘O’ on your next quiz, I’m sure,” Harry said quickly.

“You really think so?” she asked.

“Of course,” Ron said, finally copping on. “You’re the smartest witch in the whole bloody school!”

Hermione grinned. “Besides,” Harry said. “An ‘A’ is a good grade. If I were to take Arithmancy, I know I’d probably get a ‘P’ in there.”

Hermione laughed. “Oh, I doubt you’d be that terrible, Harry. You’re quite brilliant when you want to be.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry murmured. “So, could you put your brilliant mind to work and help me come up with a decent announcement for Quidditch tryouts?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Hermione said with a laugh.

“I’ll just sit back and let you two work,” Ron said with a grin.

A half an hour later, Harry was staring down at a very decent announcement. Dean had entered the common room while Harry and Hermione were working and in ten minutes flat had drawn a spectacular lion on top of the announcement.

“I think it’s ready to be posted,” Harry said, admiring the work.

“Great. Post it up,” Ron said eagerly.

Just as Harry tacked the flyer onto the bulletin board, Katie Bell entered the common room. “Hello Harry, hello Ron,” she said.

“Hey Katie,” Harry greeted. “Quidditch tryouts will be this Saturday. Meet me at Madam Hooch’s office at twelve forty-five.”

“Okay. Just tell me one thing: we’re not going to keep Kirke and Sloper, are we?” she asked.

“Not unless they’ve improved greatly,” Harry murmured.

Katie breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s one less thing for me to worry about.”

“Yeah, how is it being Head Girl?” Ron asked with an bemused grin.

“Hard work. But at least I get to boss around you prefects,” she said with a sly smile. “Speaking of which, Ron, you’ve got patrolling duty tonight.”

“I do?” he asked, horrified. “But I have homework that’s due tomorrow!”

“Better do it now,” she advised. “See you two around,” she added before heading up to the girls’ dormitories.

Ron groaned. “I’ve got to patrol tonight? Isn’t that what those bloody Aurors are here for?”

“See,” Harry said, “this is exactly why I’m happy I’m not a prefect.”

Ron scowled at Harry just as Ginny finally came back to the common room. She marched straight over to Harry and Ron and said in a low voice, “So, have you two gotten anything for Hermione yet?”

“I’m working on it,” Ron said indignantly.

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to Harry expectantly. “Well?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already made arrangements,” he assured her.

“So what are we doing exactly?” she asked them both. “This is her sixteenth birthday, after all. I was thinking about a little party—close friends only. We all know Hermione wouldn’t want a big bash in her honor.”

“Where should we hold a party?” Harry asked.

“Well that’s easy enough,” Ginny replied. “I’ve already talked to Hagrid. He’s more than happy to have the party in his hut.”

Ron nodded. “I’ll go down to the kitchens and nick some food for us all.”

“I’ll go down beforehand and tell Dobby that we’ll need a cake whipped up. When, exactly?” Harry asked.

“Right after classes are all over,” Ginny told him.

“Is this going to be a surprise party?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Hermione doesn’t exactly like surprises.”

“It would be best to tell her,” Ginny agreed. “We can do so at dinner.”

“So now all we have to do is invite the guests,” Ron said.

“Right. Hagrid already knows he’s invited,” Ginny said.

“Neville, definitely,” Ron said. “I mean, he came to the Department of Mysteries with us.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “What about Luna?”

“She and Hermione aren’t the greatest of friends,” Ginny said.

“But she was with us,” Harry said.

“We could invite the whole D.A.,” Ron suggested.

Both Harry and Ginny scoffed. “No!” they replied in unison.

“I won’t have Dean there, or Michael,” Ginny said angrily.

“And the last thing I need is Cho there either,” Harry murmured. “What about Lavender and the Parvati Patil? They are her dorm mates.”

Ginny snorted. “The followers of Professor Trelawney? Think about that one, Harry,” she advised.

Ron grunted. “She’s right, mate.”

“Any of the other prefects?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. “The Creevey brothers?”

Harry glared at him. “This is Hermione’s party, not mine.”

“Point taken.”

“Right,” said Ginny. “I think we have it settled then. We’re going to invite Neville and Luna.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Ron asked. “Let’s get started!”

*****

Neville and Luna agreed immediately to attend Hermione’s party, something Hermione herself wasn’t too pleased about. (“Thursday is our most hectic day!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t possibly have a party!”) But after much cajoling, she finally gave in. (“I just hope that I’ll be able to concentrate in Astrology later on,” she muttered.)

Harry awoke bright and early on Thursday morning, ready for the day’s activities. He trusted Hedwig to return today with his gift and he knew the party would be successful, not to mention the flying lesson that afternoon with the first years.

He took out his Quidditch robes and smoothed them out before pulling on his school robes for the day. Many people had expressed an interest in joining the Quidditch team and Harry was eager to see what talent his fellow Gryffindors brought to the game. It would only be a matter of time.

When he walked into the common room he noticed Hunter Farrell sitting in an armchair near the fire. Harry and Hunter had not spoken since the night Harry was chosen to be the boy’s mentor and Harry was inclined to keep it that way.

Not far away from Hunter was the person Harry was looking for. Smiling brightly, he took out his wand, and whispered, “Orchideous!” before walking up to Hermione and saying, “Happy birthday.”

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, startled. Crookshanks, who was lying in her lap, looked up grouchily when his owner stopped scratching him. She saw the flowers and laughed. “Oh my, Harry. Thank you!” she said, accepting the bouquet.

“You’re welcome,” he said, sitting down next to her. “All ready for a gruesome day of school and then a nice, relaxing party?”

“Oh, I suppose, although when am I not ready for a gruesome day of school?” she asked, grinning.

He have her a lopsided grin. “Fell right into that one, didn’t I?” She nodded and laughed.

“What are you two on about?” asked a sleepy Ron from behind them.

“’Morning Ron,” Harry said.

“Good morning, Ron,” Hermione said.

“’Morning Harry, Hermione. Happy birthday,” he said and stifled a yawn. “Bit early, isn’t it?”

“You could say that,” Hermione said. “And thank you.”

The door to the girls’ dormitory opened and Ginny came out, wide awake with a sparkle in her eye. “Good morning all!” she said brightly. “Happy birthday, Hermione.”

“Thanks, Ginny,” Hermione said.

Ginny eyed Ron as he was stretching. She cleared her throat once and he stopped, mid-stretch. “Oh!” he said and rushed forward. “Here Hermione.” He held out a brown paper-wrapped parcel.

“What’s this?” she asked, accepting the parcel.

“A present from Ginny and me,” he said as she ripped open the brown paper to reveal a fine set of luxury quills and ink.

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “Thank you!” She jumped up and hugged first Ginny and then Ron. “They’re wonderful.”

Ginny smiled and Ron’s ears turned red. “Y-you’re welcome, Hermione,” he stammered.

“Ooh, where’d you get the flowers?” Ginny asked.

“Harry,” Hermione replied.

Crookshanks jumped down off of the couch and rubbed up next to Hermione’s leg as Ginny gave Harry a slightly reproachful look.

“Who’s hungry?” Ron asked.

“You are,” Hermione replied. “Let’s go eat.”

“That wasn’t my present,” Harry whispered to Ginny as Ron and Hermione led the way out of the common room. “But it should be arriving shortly.”

“Arriving shortly?” Ginny looked horrified. “Talk about cutting it close, Harry.” But Harry only grinned.

In the Great Hall, while they were all eating their share of eggs and toast, Hedwig returned with a note for Harry. Turning away from the table and the discussion Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were having, he opened it up to read that his gift would arrive shortly. But what he didn’t expect was for her gift to arrive only a minute later.

“What’s this?” Hermione asked when a handsome brown owl landed in front of her, a note attached to its leg. She slipped the note off, read it quickly, and turned to Harry in awe.

“Happy birthday!” he said, grinning.

She gaped at him. “You didn’t!”

He laughed. “I did.”

“What’s the note say, Hermione?” Ron asked curiously.

Hermione turned to Ron and then read aloud: “Dear Miss Granger, Eeylops Owl Emporium is pleased to send you one male brown owl, sent by Mr. H. Potter. Thank you for choosing an Eeylops owl! Mr. H. Potter also sends along this message: ‘Happy birthday, Hermione. You once mentioned that you wanted an owl, so here it is—Harry.’ Once again, thank you. Sincerely, Eeylops Owl Emporium.”

“Wow Harry,” Ginny said, obviously impressed.

“Yeah. That must have cost a pretty Sickle,” Ron said, eyeing the brown owl.

“What are you going to call him?” Ginny asked Hermione.

“I—er—I’m going to have to think about it,” she said, still completely stunned.

Ron chuckled. “For once, she doesn’t know the answer.”

Hermione snapped herself out of her reverie and rolled her eyes. “Come on Harry,” she said. “We have to go to Potions and finish up the antidote for the Nocturnal Poison. Snape’s going to make us test both the poison and the antidote on each other next Tuesday. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die.”

“Ron,” Harry said as he got up to join Hermione, “go check on Dobby when you’re done eating. See you later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ron said. “Good luck in Potions!”

*****

Harry had very little luck in Potions. But, with Hermione’s help, they were able to finish the antidote. By the time Harry was finished with his classes for the day, he was in no mood to help the first years and their flying lesson.

“It will be fun, Harry,” Hermione assured him when they climbed through the portrait hole. “It will be a good warm-up for Saturday. Now go get your Quidditch robes on and meet Madam Hooch!”

He gave her a mock salute, rushed up to his dormitory, changed, grabbed his Firebolt, and was out on the grounds within ten minutes.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Madam Hooch greeted when he reached her. She already had several broomsticks laid out and ready. “The Gryffindor first years will be here shortly, as will the Slytherin first years.”

Harry frowned. He had forgotten that the Gryffindors and Slytherins learned how to fly together. That’s the last thing he wanted. The Slytherins were sure to try to do things to the Gryffindors and they would make themselves difficult just for Harry, he was sure.

Within no time, he spotted the first of many first years heading his way, all of then talking excitedly except for one, he noticed. As they drew nearer, he noticed the one was none other that the brown haired and gray eyed boy he was suppose to mentor, Hunter Farrell.

The first years gathered around the broomsticks, many of them eyeing Harry and whispering. Ally Warrick waved as she stood next to two other girls. A boy, who Harry recognized as Lavender Brown’s younger brother, strode over and held out his hand.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully. “Dylan Brown. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Harry.”

Harry shook his hand, taken aback. “Hello,” he mumbled and noticed several Slytherins scowl.

“My sister, Lavender, told me a bit about you this summer,” Dylan said. “The Seeker of the House team, captain too, and she told me about you fought You-Know-Who a little more than a year ago.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, surprised at how anybody could be so outgoing. He was nearly as bad as Colin Creevey.

Dylan’s attention then focused on Harry’s Firebolt. “Wow! A real Firebolt. Wicked!”

At that moment, Madam Hooch blew her whistle. “Alright everyone, enough chit-chat. Welcome to your first flying lesson. Now, everyone choose a broom and step up to the left side of it.”

Everyone did so and waited for Madam Hooch’s next instruction. Harry noticed that a few Slytherins, and even Hunter, looked rather bored.

“Before we begin today’s lesson, I would like to introduce the young man standing over there,” she said, gesturing towards Harry. “Harry Potter, the captain and Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He will be helping with today’s lesson.”

Harry, feeling foolish, gave a small wave.

“Right. Okay everyone, stick your right hand over your broom and say ‘Up!’” Madam Hooch told them.

“UP!” the first years shouted. Harry took particular interest in this part. The brooms immediately jumped into only two people’s hands; a Slytherin boy with auburn hair and, to Harry’s great surprise, Hunter. Then slowly, little by little, the brooms rose to the first years’ calls.

Madam Hooch quickly showed them how to mount their brooms without falling off. Hunter looked extremely bored at this point.

“Potter, if you don’t mind,” Madam Hooch called from between two first years, “could you please fly a couple of laps around us all, so that the first years may see what an expert flyer such as yourself does?”

Harry nodded and mounted his Firebolt. He then kicked off from the ground and rose like a rocket, feeling the wind blow both his hair and his robes. The incredible feeling of freedom that he so loved returned to him.

He sped around the first years quickly, added a loop just for kicks, and landed exactly where he started as many excited murmurs broke out.

“Thank you, Potter,” Madam Hooch said. “Now, when I blow my whistle, you’re going to kick off from the ground hard, just like Potter did. Steady your broom, rise about a meter, and then lean forward slightly to come back down. Everyone ready? On my whistle then—three—two—one—” And she blew her whistle.

The first years all rose up a good meter and then hovered. After a few moments, they leaned forward on their broomsticks and touched back down.

“Excellent!” Madam Hooch said approvingly. “Mr. Potter, will you please fly up a good eight meters into the air?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said and mounted his broom once more. Kicking off hard, he soared up a good eight and a half meters before settling back down to eight.

“Do you see Mr. Potter up there?” he could hear Madam Hooch ask the first years. “You are about to fly and practice maneuvering. Do not, I repeat, do not go any higher than where Mr. Potter is. The more uncomfortable you feel on your broom, the lower I suggest that you fly. Whenever you are ready, mount your brooms and take off.”

It didn’t take long for the first years to all join Harry in the air. He noticed most of them stayed below where he was at, circling around as though he were doing laps around the Quidditch pitch. Very few went as high as he was. Three Slytherin boys, one Gryffindor girl, Hunter and another Gryffindor boy that Harry did not know were about even with him, and Harry noticed that only Hunter and the auburn-haired Slytherin seemed the most at ease on a broom.

“Psst! Kyle!” one of the Slytherin boys called loudly to the auburn-haired boy. “Watch this.”

Just as Harry turned around to see what was up, the third Slytherin boy hurtled a large rock towards the Gryffindor girl, who was hovering and watching somebody below her. Harry dashed off, hoping against hope that he could catch the rock before it hit her and possibly knocked her off her broom. It was falling in a graceful arc right towards her head. Harry put on an extra burst of speed when suddenly a hand reached up and knocked it aside.

Harry pulled up on his Firebolt gently and stopped right next to the girl. A meter below them was Hunter Farrell, the rock in his hand. He was glaring at the Slytherins malevolently. “Learn to play nice,” he spat at the Slytherins and then launched the rock just barely over their heads.

“You missed,” Harry said to Hunter. By this time the girl had swung around and was watching everything, a look of surprise etched on her face, not that Harry could blame her. He was in fact surprised that Hunter pulled off such an amazing catch and near miss.

“No I didn’t,” Hunter snapped. “Three centimeters above Bowman’s head, just where I was aiming.”

By this time, Madam Hooch was on a broom and was level with them. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.

“Those Slytherin boys over there thought it would be funny to throw a rock at her,” Harry explained, nodding towards the girl.

“And what exactly was Mr. Farrell doing?” she asked.

“He caught the rock,” Harry told her, “and got rid of it.”

“Nearly hitting those boys in the process!” Madam Hooch shrieked.

“No, ma’am. I don’t know about your angle, but from ours it went right over their heads. Never got close,” Harry said.

Madam Hooch frowned. “Very well. All of you, back to the ground.” With that, she blew her whistle. “Everyone land now!” she shouted. Once everyone landed, she beckoned the three Slytherins. “Class dismissed! You three, follow me. We are going to have a talk with Professor Snape.” Scowling, the three boys followed her back towards the castle.

As the rest of the class was leaving, Harry called out, “Hey, Hunter!”

Hunter turned and, scowling, walked back towards Harry. “What?” he demanded.

“You fly pretty well,” Harry said. “Did you mean what you said though? That you missed them on purpose?”

“Why do you care?” the boy spat.

Harry let out a frustrated growl. “Look, I just saved your ass from a detention up there. The least you could do is drop the attitude for a moment, okay?”

Hunter shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds, then muttered, “Fine.”

“Okay,” Harry said and relaxed somewhat. “Did you really miss them on purpose?”

“Yes,” Hunter replied.

“That was a pretty accurate shot,” Harry commented. “Ever play Quidditch?”

“With my D…” he trailed off.

“Your dad?” Harry asked.

Hunter nodded. “I’d play Chaser and he’d play Keeper.”

“Did something happen to your dad?”

Hunter looked up at Harry furiously. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said flatly.

Harry frowned. “Okay. Tell you what, meet me down on the Quidditch pitch at twelve-fifty Saturday, okay?”

“What for?”

“I want to run you against Ron and Katie,” Harry said. “Gryffindor needs a new Chaser.”

Hunter looked up at Harry incredulously. “I’m a first year.”

Damn! Harry thought to himself. That’s right! The First Year rule. He had avoided it when Professor McGonagall asked Professor Dumbledore for special permission, and Professor McGonagall was sure to try to do anything to help the Gryffindor team. “I’ll talk to Professor McGonagall,” Harry told him.

Hunter blinked. “Really?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, unless you don’t want to play Quidditch.”

“No! No, I want to play. For my birthday my dad…” he trailed off again.

“Your dad what?” Harry asked.

Hunter looked incredibly sad. “He bought me a Nimbus Two Thousand.”

“A Nimbus Two Thousand?” Harry asked. “I used to ride one of those before it got smashed up by the Whomping Willow during a match.” The memory was still painful.

Hunter gave him a puzzled look. “How—”

“Long story,” Harry said shortly. “But that was really wicked of your dad to buy you one. It’s a good broom.” Hunter shuffled his feet and didn’t say anything. Harry frowned. “Look, I know you don’t want a mentor, but will you settle for a friend?”

He looked up, startled. “A friend?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

“With you?”

“Yeah. Is that a bad thing?”

And for the first time since Harry had met him, Hunter grinned. “Well, no. I guess not.”

Harry grinned too. “Well okay then.” He held out his hand. “Friends?”

Hunter shook it with his own. “Friends.”

*****

That evening, Hermione’s little party was in full swing inside Hagrid’s hut. Hermione herself was talking to Hagrid, Ginny, Neville, and Luna at Hagrid’s table, while Harry and Ron were in discussing what happened earlier during the flying lesson.

“So, you mean he—”

“Yeah.”

“And then he—”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it just barely—”

“Yep.”

“But that’s exactly where he—”

“That’s right.”

“Wow.”

Harry laughed. “So he’s going to come to pitch ten minutes before the tryouts begin on Saturday, so you and Katie can see what I think.”

Ron grinned. “Poor Ginny. She may not make the Quidditch team this year. She’s going to try out for Chaser.”

“There’s still a chance,” Harry reminded him. “We need two new Chasers, not one.”

“Okay, okay. I reckon we should get back to the party,” Ron said.

Harry laughed and headed back to the table with Ron. He noted that the chocolate cake that Dobby had made for the occasion was now completely gone and that most of the tea cups were empty.

“Hermione,” Ginny said, “you never told us what you named your new owl.”

“Oh, I decided to name him Giles,” Hermione said.

“Giles?” Ron asked, grabbing the tea pot and pouring himself a cup. Hermione nodded.

“A saint,” Luna said simply.

Again, Hermione nodded. “It was either that or Hermod.”

“I like Giles better,” Luna said. “Hermod was a Viking god.”

“And it sounds too close to Hermes,” Ginny said.

“Yeah. That owl is as pompous as Percy,” Ron muttered. Hermes was, indeed, Percy’s owl.

Hermione grinned while the others laughed, although Harry noticed it did not reach her eyes. Suddenly, she got up. “Excuse me,” she said. “I could do with some fresh air.”

Harry watched her go, concern etched on his face. He looked back and saw the same expression mirrored on Ginny’s face. When their eyes made contact, she jerked her head slightly towards the door.

“You know,” Harry said, getting the hint, “I could use from fresh air too. Excuse me.”

He got up quickly and walked out the door, searching around for Hermione. Edging around Hagrid’s hut, he found her in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, looking off to the west at the fading sunlight. “Hey,” he said when he reached her. “You needed fresh air?”

“Yes…well, no,” she said with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s stupid really,” Hermione said, turning away from the sunset and facing Harry. “I shouldn’t be moping about it.”

“What is it?”

“Well…it’s Viktor. I haven’t received a letter from him in over two months and he said that he would make sure he’d send me a letter on or before my birthday,” she said sadly.

“Viktor Krum? You know, I’ve been always meaning to ask you, and I hope you don’t mind…what happened between you two forth year?”

Hermione looked quite surprised. “I’m astonished you asked me that, Harry. The truth is, nothing happened. Nothing at all.”

“Nothing? He didn’t even peck you on the cheek?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t like Viktor like that. He’s a friend, or at least, I thought he was.”

Harry frowned. “Maybe he’s a little busy. I mean, he’d be crazy to lose you as a friend.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious. Do I look like I’m joking?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked up at him and frowned. “No.”

“See. You’re the best friend anybody could ever have Hermione. Krum’s an idiot if he doesn’t see that. Now, let’s get back inside before everyone else starts to worry, okay?”

Hermione gave a small smile. “Okay. Thanks, Harry.”

He only shrugged as he led her back to Hagrid’s hut. “It’s the truth,” he said and held the door open for her. After she walked back inside, he followed her, rejoining the party.

A/N: If any of you were wondering, Giles really is a saint. He is the patron saint of Edinburgh, Scotland.

Author’s Note: Well, I finished this one must faster than usual. I just felt like doing a lot of writing, so I’m sure you’re all happy about that. Another reason why this chapter is out a lot sooner than usual is because of the quick beta work of both Jessica and Nitya. Merci beaucoup to both of them. And finally, thank you. Yes, you. Thanks for actually reading this.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HUNTER’S SORROW

In Harry’s mind, Saturday looked to be the perfect day for any type of Quidditch. The sky was a bright blue, the sun was warm and friendly, and the slight wind was like wisps of someone’s breath lightly tickling the hairs on the back of the neck. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.

Absolutely perfect.

He spent the morning in the common room, his Firebolt in his hands and his broomstick servicing kit open at his feet. Ron and Katie Bell sat near him, both talking of their hopes for the upcoming season. Ginny sat Indian style on the floor, a book open at her side, while Hermione was at a table with Ally Warrick, Dylan Brown, Hunter Farrell, and a girl that Harry didn’t know of, helping them with their Charms homework.

When lunch rolled around, both Harry and Ron took their brooms with them to the Great Hall, where they all munched on sandwiches. Harry, however, was very preoccupied.

“I want to ask Professor McGonagall to come and see Hunter,” Harry told Ron, Hermione, and Katie. “It will be easier to ask her to let him join if she sees that he can play.”

“You sound pretty positive that there isn’t going to be someone who’s better than this Hunter,” Katie commented.

“Well, I’m not,” Harry replied, “but what I saw was pretty good.”

At that moment, Professor McGonagall walked into the Great Hall, accompanied by little Professor Flitwick. “Well, now’s your chance, mate,” Ron said.

Harry stood up and quickly walked over to Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. “Professor McGonagall, may I have a word with you?” he asked.

“Certainly Potter. Excuse us, Professor Flitwick,” McGonagall said and headed with Harry back through the doors and into the much quieter entrance hall. “What is it?”

“Well—er—I was wondering if you’re coming to see the tryouts today?” he asked.

“No, I will not, Potter. I believe in your judgment, along with Miss Bell’s and Mr. Weasley’s,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Oh. Er—I was hoping that you would, because I really would like you to see somebody who I think would be great for the Quidditch team,” Harry explained hastily.

“As I said, Potter, I trust your judgment.”

“But there’s a problem, Professor,” Harry said. “It’s Hunter Farrell.”

“Farrell? But he is a first year,” said McGonagall shrilly. “You know the rule Potter.”

“Yes, but I was hoping arrangements could be made, like they were for me,” Harry told her. “Please Professor, if you would just come and see him. I’ve got a special tryout set up at twelve-fifty. He could really be great for the Quidditch team. I feel we’ll have the Quidditch Cup in our hands again for sure.”

“Well,” Professor McGonagall said, “I could see if he has any talent. Merlin knows I want to defend the Cup.”

Harry smiled. He knew that if he appealed to her desire for an excellent Quidditch team that she would grant his request. “Thanks, Professor! I’ll see you later then!” he said and walked happily back into the Great Hall.

*****

At 12:45, Harry, Ron, and Katie headed down the sloping lawn and to the Quidditch pitch. After placing the crate with the four balls and all of the extra broomsticks inside the stadium, the three of them quickly ran into the locker room to change into their scarlet Quidditch robes. By the time Professor McGonagall and Hunter arrived at 12:50, they were ready.

“Hello, Professor,” Harry said as they approached him. “Hello Hunter. I want to introduce you to Katie Bell, our Chaser, and Ron Weasley, our Keeper. Katie, Ron, this is Hunter Farrell.”

“Hey,” both Ron and Katie said, to which Hunter replied with a small, “Hi.”

“Well, come on, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “You don’t have much time.”

“Yes, Professor. Ron, Katie, let’s take Hunter through the paces.” With that, Katie opened the crate and grabbed the bright red Quaffle while Ron hopped on his broom and took off, closely followed by Katie. Harry grabbed a broom for Hunter before taking off himself. A moment later, Hunter joined them in the air, a nervous look on his face. “Just relax,” Harry called as he signaled Katie to begin. “You’ll do fine.”

Harry flew around and watched as Katie passed the Quaffle to Hunter, who soared through the air and towards Ron, but at the last second, passed it back to Katie, who flew low and scored.

Well, Harry thought to himself, the kid apparently knows teamwork.

Katie passed the Quaffle to Hunter again, who did a sort of loop before passing it back to Katie, who passed it immediately back. Then, Hunter took aim and plowed the ball right past Ron’s left shoulder. Harry laughed.

“You see!” he called. “I told you!”

Ron looked a little upset by having the ball so close to him yet not being able to catch it, but then he grinned. “Not bad!”

Hunter looked far more relaxed now as he and Katie continued to pass the Quaffle and get it past Ron.

“Looks like you need to practice, Weasley!” Katie joked as she flew past him. Ron stuck out his tongue. “Hey, Hunter!” she called as she headed back. “Take the Quaffle from me now!”

Harry watched as the boy was able to steal the Quaffle from Katie several times. When he looked down to where Professor McGonagall was standing, he could see her nodding her head in approval.

“Okay!” he yelled a moment later. “Time’s up!”

All four of them landed and both Ron and Katie shook Hunter’s hand before walking over to meet up with Harry and Professor McGonagall. “So,” Harry asked, “what do you think?”

“He’s good, no doubt about that,” Katie said. “Shame he’s a first year.”

“You were right about him, Harry,” Ron agreed. “Killer aim.”

Harry grinned. “Well, Professor?” he asked, turning to her.

Professor McGonagall sighed. “If you cannot find two good Chasers that are in second year or higher, I will talk to Professor Dumbledore and ask him to consider it.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said. After McGonagall left, he turned to Ron and Katie. “Do you really think we’re going to find two good Chasers?”

Ron coughed. “No, I think we’re going to only find one.”

“Yeah,” Katie said, winking, “only one.”

Harry looked over Katie’s shoulder to see the first of many Quidditch team hopefuls entering the stadium. He sighed. “Well, let’s find our other Chaser and new Beaters.”

After Harry, who was rather nervous, had explained how the tryouts were to proceed, he took to the air with Katie and Ron, but not before Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper marched up to Harry.

“Hey, how come we aren’t on the Quidditch team?” Sloper asked angrily.

Katie and Ron quickly joined Harry. “Because,” Harry replied, “you were simply replacements seeing as Fred and George were banned.”

“But you still need two Beaters,” Kirke said earnestly.

“And you’re more than welcome to try out for the positions,” Katie told them scathingly, “but I doubt you’ll make the team if you play the same way you did last year.”

Both Kirke and Sloper turned bright red. “I practiced,” Kirke mumbled.

“Good,” Harry said, “then I’ll expect a good performance out of you.” With that, he mounted his Firebolt and was off, closely followed by Ron and Katie.

The tryouts went rather smoothly, although Harry couldn’t find anyone who seemed to be good enough for the team. As he flew around Katie, she shook her head, as did Ron when Harry flew near the goalposts.

When Sloper and Kirke tried out, Harry noticed a great improvement in Kirke, but not Sloper. Sloper was the same, if not worse, than what he was the year before. Kirke, however, looked to have some promise. All of the other Beater hopefuls that had tried out already seemed to have Sloper’s skill—none at all.

Hope came in the form of a second year with light brown hair named Alex McGuire. His aggressive nature with the Bludger reminded Harry greatly of Fred and George. He grinned and looked over at Ron and Katie, who were both nodding.

“I think we’ve found a new Beater,” Katie said as she flew up next to Harry.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Harry said with another grin.

He flew around, waiting for the next hopeful to fly up and join them. In the stadium, he saw the familiar bushy hair of Hermione. Smiling, he waved as he passed and saw her wave back.

As he flew back up towards Katie, he noticed Ginny flying up to meet them. She looked slightly nervous, but otherwise fine. Harry flew up next to her. “Hey Ginny.”

“Hi Harry,” she said, taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous,” he advised.

“I’m not,” she replied.

“Good. I mean, it’s pretty simple. Just steal the Quaffle from Katie and beat Ron,” Harry said. “Good luck.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and waited until Harry gave her the signal, then she was off. Harry watched as she did an interesting crossover move on Katie and then efficiently stole the Quaffle, before turning and heading off towards Ron and the goalposts. She flew straight towards the right goal, then suddenly jerked left. Ron bought Ginny’s feint and dived as Ginny plowed the ball right through the right hoop. Harry laughed.

“Very good,” he said as Ginny flew back towards him. “Now, one more time.”

Ginny shrugged and waited for Harry’s signal again, then tore off after Katie and the Quaffle again. After she stole it, Harry flew up next to her and yelled, “Great, now work with Katie!” With that, he motioned Katie and Ginny quickly passed the Quaffle off to her.

Ginny was very good, Harry had to admit as he watched Ginny and Katie continuously pass the ball back and forth, back and forth, confusing Ron. Harry chuckled. It looked like his Keeper needed to practice. Suddenly, with a quick twist, Ginny threw the Quaffle through the middle hoop, straight past Ron.

Harry flew towards them. “Nice, very nice. Thanks, Ginny.”

She shrugged and flew back down to the ground and the next Chaser hopeful flew up, but it only took a minute for Harry to realize that that person had no hope to join the Quidditch team. In fact, none of the other people that tried out were good enough to join the Quidditch team.

Harry sighed after the last hopeful flew down. “Well?” he asked Ron and Katie.

“Yeah, we are definitely going to need that Hunter kid,” Ron said.

Katie nodded. “Ron’s sister was good, but the only other person who was halfway decent was that fourth year girl—Clouse, but we can’t use her.”

“No,” Ron agreed. “The rest were bloody awful.”

“So we know who our Chasers are, but what about the Beaters?” Harry asked. “I’m all for that McGuire guy.”

“Me too,” Katie said. “But the rest of them…”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I suppose our best bet is to let Kirke back on the team. It looked like he at least practiced over the summer holiday.”

“So, do we have our team?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “I think so.”

“Harry,” Ron said, “we are going to have to practice often.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry replied. “It’s not like we’ve got Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia still on the team. We are going to have to really practice to get them all in shape.”

“Just don’t make the practices at five in the morning, okay Harry?” Katie said with a wry grin.

Harry laughed. “I am no Wood, that’s for sure. Now come on, let’s go inform everyone and then tell Professor McGonagall that we couldn’t find anyone else.”

They landed and everyone watched them anxiously. Harry saw that Ginny was standing next to Hermione and kept shuffling her feet, while Hermione whispered a few words to her. Harry walked towards the front of the crowd and an excited murmur whipped its way through the group.

Harry cleared his throat. At that moment, Ron walked up next to Harry and whispered in his ear, “This is the reason why I’m definitely happy I’m not the captain.”

Harry scoffed. “Gee, thanks, Ron.”

“Anytime, mate,” Ron said and clapped him on his shoulder before running back to where Katie stood.

Harry rolled his eyes and cleared his throat again before beginning. “Excuse me,” he said loudly and a sudden hush came over the crowd. “Well—er—thank you all for coming and trying out. It’s a shame we can’t take all of you. Er—anyway, to announce who our new Beaters and Chaser are…”

“Chaser?” came a voice from the crowd. “I thought you needed two?”

“Er…we’ve already found one,” Harry replied as a disappointed murmur ran through the crowd. “Anyway, so we’ve decided that our new Beaters are Alex McGuire and Andrew Kirke.” There was a small smatter of clapping. “Our new Chaser,” Harry continued, letting a smile creep onto his face, “is Ginny Weasley.” Ginny lit up brightly and hugged Hermione, who was jumping up and down, laughing. “Thanks again, everybody,” Harry finished as both Andrew Kirke and Alex McGuire walked up and shook hands with him.

“Thanks, Harry,” Andrew said.

“You got yourself on the team, Kirke,” Harry said. “I’ll let you both know when our first practice is. It should be soon.”

“Who’s the other Chaser?” McGuire asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Harry replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to.” He turned to Ron and Katie, “I’m going to talk to McGonagall. Can you two clean up for me please?”

“Will do, Harry!” Katie called.

Harry began to take off then suddenly he found himself in a giant bear hug and red hair in his face. “Thank you, thank you, Harry!” Ginny said.

“No problem, Ginny, although you did everything yourself,” he replied. Behind Ginny, Hermione stood trying to stifle her laughter.

Harry freed himself from Ginny’s grasp. “I’ve got to go talk to Professor McGonagall. In the meantime, go give your brother a hug. See you later.”

He quickly walked back to the castle and up the stairs until he ran right smack into Professor McGonagall, who was holding a stack of books. “Oh! Sorry, Professor,” he said sheepishly and began to help her pick her books back up.

“Yes, Potter, please watch where you are going,” she said. “Where were you going in such a hurry?”

“I was looking for you,” he replied. “We’re definitely going to need Hunter on the team.”

“You’re positive?” she asked, eyeing him.

“Yes, Professor. The only good Chaser we found was Ginny Weasley. We couldn’t find any decent Chasers after that,” he told her.

She frowned. “Very well. I will go speak to Professor Dumbledore about Farrell. Does he have a broomstick?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Good. Can’t go buy one for him like we did for you,” she said as she picked up the last of her books. “Don’t worry, Potter, I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will allow it.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks Professor,” he said and took off up the stairs. He traveled down halls and corridors until he finally reached the Fat Lady.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “It’s a nice day outside.”

“Need to find someone,” he replied absently. “Phoenix Ashes.”

She swung open on her hinges, admitting him into the common room. But as he climbed through the portrait hole, she said, “You kids need to learn to value sunlight and fresh air.”

In the common room, Harry did a quick sweep and saw that the one he was looking for was not there. Instead, he saw Dylan Brown with what looked remarkably like one of Fred and George’s fireworks.

“Excuse me Dylan,” he said, walking over, “but have you seen Hunter?”

Dylan looked up, surprised. “Oh, hi Harry!”

“Have you seen Hunter?” Harry asked again.

“Hunter? I saw him at lunch. He was telling Ally and I that he was trying out for the Quidditch team, which is impossible because he’s only a first year. But he left around twelve-fifty anyway. Saw him not too long after and he was grinning, which is odd because I’ve never seen him grin before. Something’s up with him, I know it. Anyway, he and Ally went down to the library to go work on their homework. They wanted me to come along, but it’s Saturday. I can do it tomorrow night.” He said this all very fast.

“So he’s in the library?” Dylan nodded. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

Harry took off again, heading down to the library, hoping that he would find Hunter there. However, when he arrived in the library, he saw somebody he wasn’t expecting to see.

“Hello, Harry,” Cho Chang said, going slightly pink.

“Hi Cho,” he said, also turning pink.

“Haven’t spoken to you in awhile,” she said. “How are you?”

“Utterly delightful,” he said waspishly without knowing why, but then he suddenly blurted out, “How’s Michael?”

She blushed even harder. “We broke up.”

“Pity,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your problem? What, has your precious Hermione given you the cold shoulder?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “She’s not my girlfriend!” he said fiercely.

“Funny, you could have fooled me!” she said in the same tone.

“Funny, you did,” Harry muttered.

“What?” Cho exclaimed.

“Potter! Chang!” Madam Pince, the librarian snapped. “Take your little quarrel outside, now!”

Harry and Cho marched outside the library. “What do you mean, Harry, ‘you did?’”

“Exactly what I said. You did. You fooled me,” he said angrily.

“And how did I do that?” she said incredulously.

“By making me think you cared about me, when all you wanted was to find out about Cedric,” he responded.

Enraged, she slapped him. “How dare you!” she bellowed.

He didn’t flinch; he didn’t even move an inch. “Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

“No! I cared about you, Harry, I did,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “But now I don’t know why I ever did, you great prat!” And just like that, she ran off, trying to keep the tears from falling down her face.

He touched his face gingerly before turning back to the library and entering, once again looking for Hunter.

He swept passed the aisles and tables, searching until finally he saw Ally Warrick. Hunter was not with her. He stepped up to her table. “Ally,” he said quietly.

She looked up and smiled. “Hello, Harry. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I was told by Dylan Brown that you and Hunter were down here. Er—where’s Hunter?”

“Oh, he couldn’t concentrate,” she said sadly, “so I told him to gather his books, go outside, and get some fresh air. I could tell he wanted to be alone.”

“What—” he started, but stopped, knowing better than to ask for speculation from somebody who may or may not have been Hunter’s friend. All that Harry knew was that their fathers were friends, or had been. It didn’t seem that Hunter or Ally were that close at all. “Thanks,” he said to her and turned around, heading out towards the grounds.

It was still beautiful out, Harry noted, as he searched the grounds for the young first year. He only wished that the boy would stop being so elusive. It was starting to get on his nerves a little, to be honest, and he had not known the boy for very long.

He finally found Hunter sitting down under a tree near the lake, his bag beside him as he stared out into the bright blue water. Harry cleared his throat as he approached, making the boy jump. “Sorry,” he said when he finally arrived at the tree. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Hunter looked up. “Yeah? What for? Am I the new Chaser?”

Harry grinned. “It looks to be that way. McGonagall’s going to talk to Dumbledore about it. I don’t see why Dumbledore would refuse.”

Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’m a first year?” he asked sarcastically.

Harry wasn’t going to have any of that. He sat down next to Hunter and said, “What’s with you, huh?”

“What do you mean?” he asked irritably.

“Your attitude. I thought we made some progress a couple of days ago,” Harry said.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Why the hell are you so moody? Why is it when anyone even mentions your father—” Hunter’s breath hitched. “—do you always get so reserved?”

“Why do you care?” Hunter retorted.

“Because,” Harry said, “I want to know if I can help.”

“Well you can’t!” Hunter said, jumping up. “You don’t know how it feels!”

“How am I supposed to know what it feels like if I don’t even know what it is?” Harry shot back.

Hunter stared down at him venomously. “You lost your parents long ago and you don’t even remember. You don’t remember what it feels like,” he said quietly.

Harry blinked. “Hunter, did your dad…die?”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes and he turned away from Harry furiously. Harry sighed sadly and leaned back against the trunk of the tree, his own feeling of loss returning to him. “You’re wrong,” he said quietly, so quietly he wasn’t sure Hunter heard him. “I do know what it feels like.”

And Harry understood—he finally understood—why he was chosen to be Hunter’s mentor. They both were suffering a personal tragedy.

Hunter turned slowly and faced Harry, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You do?” he asked in a voice much like a young child’s.

“Yes,” Harry replied, closing his eyes and willing his feelings of despair away. “My godfather died recently too.”

“Godfather? You had a godfather? What was his name?” Hunter asked, settling himself back down upon the ground.

“Sirius Black.”

His eyes widened. “The murderer?”

“He wasn’t a murderer!” Harry snapped. “He was innocent. The Ministry finally cleared his name after his death. One of these days,” he said quietly, “I’m going to make the real murderer pay. He’ll rot in Azkaban.”

“My father may have heard about the real killer,” Hunter said. “He was an Auror.”

“An Auror?” Harry repeated, turning to look at Hunter. “When did he die?”

“In July. He was fighting some Death Eaters during a Muggle attack,” Hunter said sorrowfully.

“July? Muggle attack?” And suddenly the last issue of the Daily Prophet Harry received that summer flashed through his mind. A memorial for the two Aurors that died, Gavin Farrell and Aidan Curtis, will be held in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic tomorrow night. “Gavin Farrell,” he whispered.

“What?” Hunter said hoarsely.

“Gavin Farrell,” Harry repeated. “Your father.”

And with those words, the boy fell into a fit of sobs. Harry didn’t know what to do, but he felt his instincts take over and, in what he supposed was a brotherly manner, he hugged the boy, letting him cry on his shoulder.

“He promised, damn it, he promised!” Hunter howled, his voice muffled. “He promised he’d come home!”

Eventually, his sobs faded and both boys, pasty and pale, made their way back to the castle.

Broken promises were, Harry realized that day, the only thing a war ever brought. And in many years to come, that would haunt him.

Author’s Note: Whew! Another chapter done and it hasn’t even been a week since my last update. Wow. Of course, once I start college in a few weeks, these chapters will be more spaced out sadly. I’ll get as much written as I can in the meantime. Thanks for reviewing everyone! And thanks again to Jessica and Nitya for reading this chapter over and correcting all of my errors. I’d like to dedicate this chapter to Daniel, a friend of mine who I’ve been keeping an email correspondence with since the very beginnings of this story. He’s unfortunately injured at the moment and can’t type—much. Thanks for the friendship Daniel and I hope you feel better soon!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MARA FROST

“You’re kidding!” was Ron’s reaction when Harry told him and Hermione about Hunter’s father later that night. “His father was murdered by a Death Eater!”

“Yes,” Harry said quietly. “He was killed in the attack near Bristol.”

“Poor kid,” Ron said. “Must be hard.”

“It is,” Harry murmured.

Ron went silent, obviously noticing that he had hit a nerve. Hermione, strangely enough, had not said a word since Harry told them. She was sitting in her usual chair with Crookshanks in her lap, scratching his ears slightly and staring at the crackling flames in the fireplace. She had a melancholy look on her face as she seemed quite lost in her own thoughts. Harry thought it was best to leave her alone, especially since he had a small inkling on why she looked so sad.

“Well,” Ron said, getting up and stretching, “I’m off to bed. See you two in the morning.”

“’Night Ron,” Harry said.

He waited for a moment for a response from Hermione, but when he didn’t get one, he knitted his eyebrows and shrugged slightly before turning and heading up to the boys’ dormitory.

Harry sat by and watched Hermione for a moment longer, before asking, “Are you thinking about her?” She released a choked sigh before nodding and opening her eyes. Harry fidgeted slightly. “What was she like?” he asked quietly.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and trembled. “She was the most wonderful woman I ever knew,” she said shakily. “She was kind and sweet…she didn’t deserve what she got.”

“Was she your mum’s mum or your dad’s mum?” he asked.

“My mum’s mother. Charlotte Jane Lowell. She and I share middle names,” Hermione told him, glancing over his way. “I never knew my grandfather. He died a year before I was born.”

Harry frowned, thinking of his mother’s diary and the information he had uncovered about his own grandparents. “What about your dad’s parents?”

“Hmm? Oh, Grandma and Grandpa Granger are still very much alive, but I’ve never really been close to them,” Hermione said before adding bitterly, “They don’t even know I’m a witch.”

She sighed. “Oh, listen to me, blubbering on about my grandparents when you...you never even had a chance to meet yours.”

Harry gave a small smile. “I don’t mind. I found out what my mum’s parents’ names were though,” he added brightly.

“Really? That’s good. How far have you come along in your mother’s diary?”

“I’m up to the end of the first term of her first year. Mainly all she does is talk about her classes and how annoying that Potter boy and that Black boy were.”

She laughed, and he was pleased to hear it. “Your poor mother.” She sighed and glanced down at her watch. “Oh, is it that late already?”

Harry glanced down at his own watch. It was approaching midnight. “Yeah. I reckon we had better get to sleep.”

“Yes. Ally and I have decided to spend some quality time together so we can get better acquainted,” Hermione said as she got up.

“Really? I take it the mentorship program is going okay for you then,” he said, also getting up.

“Yes. Ally’s a really nice girl. She’s quite intelligent, but I think she may have a knack for adventure. She told me just the other day that she would love to see what Hogwarts was like at night, when you’re not supposed to be out…”

Harry chuckled. “I think you, Ron, and I know a bit about that.”

“Yes, but I’m not telling Ally that,” Hermione said and she headed towards the door to the girls’ dorms. “Well, good night Harry.”

“’Night Hermione,” he said and watched her leave before heading up to his own dorm.

*****

On Sunday, Harry and Ron settled down at a table in the common room to tackle the large amount of homework they had accumulated over the week.

“Are you going to get it all done?” Hermione asked them before she and Ally left for their little girls’ day out.

“As much as we can,” Harry replied and Ron groaned, looking at the subject of their immensely difficult Transfiguration essay that was due the next morning.

“The Dangers and Difficulties of Transfiguring Animals into Other Animals,” he read. “Why didn’t I just drop Transfiguration?”

Hermione scowled and left, leaving Harry and Ron alone in the common room with a few fifth years and a couple of third years.

“Might as well get a move on,” Harry said sadly, grabbing some parchment and The Complete Guide to Transfiguration. “At least we know it won’t take us long to do our Herbology essay.” Indeed, the topic of their Herbology essay was to discuss the properties of the Muggle aloe vera plant and how even the wizarding world used it.

They spent a good part of the day writing, researching, and talking. By the time Hermione returned with Ally before dinner, Harry was putting the finishing touches on his Potions essay while Ron finished drawing a star chart out for Astronomy.

“There, done!” Ron said triumphantly before leaning forward and whispering, “I’ll let you copy it after dinner.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks, Ron.”

After saying a few words to Ally, Hermione came over and sat down next to them, pulling Harry’s Dark Arts essay, which finished up Lupin’s lesson on doxies, towards her. “So, how much work did you boys get done today?” she asked.

“I’m all finished,” Ron told her, a smug grin on his face.

“Good,” she said, reading Harry’s essay.

“How was your day with Ally?” Harry asked, settling down his quill and letting the ink dry on his Potions essay.

“Excellent. She’s such a nice girl,” Hermione said, grabbing Harry’s quill and correcting a spelling error. “She adores reading, has a little brother, likes Charms class, enjoys playing Gobstones, and wonders what exactly is in the Forbidden Forest.” She looked up and smirked.

“I hope you told her that if she doesn’t want to get attacked by giant spiders or centaurs she should stay out of there,” Ron said.

“I told her there are more dangers in that Forest than most people realize,” Hermione said. “This is a really good essay Harry.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking it back when she returned it to him. “What else did you and Ally talk about?”

“Well, I discovered she likes Quidditch. She’s a Holyhead Harpies fan.” At that, Ron snorted. “And she’s interested in S.P.E.W.”

“Spew? What, is she going to knit socks and scarves with you?” Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione shot him a venomous look. “If you had bothered to notice, Ron, I haven’t been knitting anything for a while now!”

“Oh really?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “And why is that?”

“Because it was a futile attempt,” Hermione spat. “I know when an idea isn’t working!”

Harry eased away from the table slowly and looked down at his watch. “Hey, look at that, dinnertime! I’m just going to go down to the Great Hall…” With that, he jumped up and dashed away, leaving Ron and Hermione scowling at each other.

When he reached the Great Hall, he walked over to the Gryffindor table and plopped down across from Ginny. She glanced at him and said, “Boy, you look delightful.”

“Oh I am,” he replied in the same tone as he began to gather food towards him. “Ron and Hermione are at each other’s throats again.”

“When aren’t they?” Ginny said. “Honestly, he needs to get over it.”

Harry stilled and looked up at Ginny. “Get over what?”

An eyebrow rose. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.

“What’s obvious?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “About Ron?”

“Oh,” he said, “yeah.” In reality he had no idea what Ginny was on about. Were his suspicions about Ron having feelings for Hermione true? A small part of him for some odd reason hoped not.

It wasn’t long after that both Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall. Both looked slightly ashamed as they sat down on either side of Harry.

“Harry, we’re sorry,” Hermione said while Ron started dishing up. “That was rather immature of the both of us.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He simply started in on his dinner. Hermione, obviously taking the hint, didn’t say anything more to him. Ron, however, did not and turned to him. “How about a game of wizard’s chess after dinner?” he asked.

“I have my Astrology homework to do,” Harry reminded him.

“Oh…yeah, that’s right. It’s going to be nice having all of our homework done for the week though,” Ron said.

“Which is why I always do mine the night I get it,” Hermione said. “Freedom is nice, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it freedom,” Ron muttered and went to back his meal.

Hermione sighed. Within moments she and Ginny were engrossed in conversation. What it was about, Harry had no clue.

Suddenly, Ron jerked beside him. “What is it?” Harry asked him.

“Luna,” Ron whispered. “Is it just me or is she staring at me?” he asked, not daring to look up.

Harry glanced over at the Ravenclaw table and sure enough, Luna Lovegood was looking directly at Ron, her eerie, protuberant eyes never wavering. Harry looked down also and then back at Ron. “Yeah, she sure is.”

“Help me focus my attention on something else, please Harry?” Ron asked, his ears turning red and still not looking up.

“Er—Quidditch,” Harry muttered to him frantically. “How are the Cannons doing this year?”

“Horrible,” Ron replied. “The Appleby Arrows demolished them in their last match.” He sighed. “I think Puddlemere United is going to take the league.”

Harry grinned. He happened to like Puddlemere United. “I’m sure they’ll do better.”

“I hope,” Ron muttered. “So, when’s our first Quidditch practice?”

“I was thinking Tuesday after class. D’you think that will be good?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I’m thinking Tuesdays through Saturdays, what do you think?” Ron asked.

“Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday,” Harry said.

“Why not Wednesday or Thursday?” Ron asked.

“I don’t want to overwork the team like Wood did,” Harry replied.

“But that’s why the team was good!” Ron exclaimed.

“Shh!” Harry shushed. “Fine, I’ll add Wednesday. Better?”

Ron frowned. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said and started eating again, as did Ron, but he noticed that Ron kept his eyes away from the Ravenclaw table.

After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all got up and left at the same time. The moment he entered the entrance hall, he suddenly felt like it was he who was being watched. He looked around as Ron and Hermione chatted idly. Finally he found a figure standing in the shadows at the top of the marble staircase, on the opposite side of the direction he, Ron, and Hermione were going to take once they made it there through the throngs of people.

As they moved closer some of the shadow disappeared from the figure and Harry recognized the short blonde hair. It was Mara Frost, the female Auror who was sent to protect Hogwarts. Her icy blue eyes stared down and watched Harry closely, sending a chill down his spine. He tried to look back defiantly, but found that he could not. He could not meet her gaze. Something in her gaze petrified him, causing him to turn away and follow Ron and Hermione up the stairs and off in the direction that Gryffindor Tower was. He wanted to discuss this with Ron and Hermione as they climbed the flights of stairs up to the seventh floor, but thought better of it. They would probably think he was just being paranoid.

Once they reached the common room, Harry slumped down into a chair and pulled his star chart towards him. Ron walked up behind him and whispered, “You’re more than welcome to copy mine right now.”

Harry nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured and pulled Ron’s toward him while Ron went over and cajoled Hermione into a game of wizard’s chess, which was, Harry realized, Ron’s way of distracting her so she wouldn’t notice Harry copying Ron’s homework.

By the time he finished, Ron had successfully put Hermione’s king in check mate and Hermione was frowning. “I should know better than to play against you, Ron,” she said and got up.

“And yet you can’t resist,” Ron said with a grin as Harry packed up all of his books and supplies. “All done, mate?”

“Yeah,” Harry said gratefully. “I’m tired. I’m going to head off to bed.”

“Okay,” Ron said as he also started to pack up.

“Good night,” Hermione said, taking a seat in front of the fire.

“’Night,” Harry replied and headed through the door and up the stairs.

Once in his dorm, he settled down on his four-poster and grabbed his mother’s diary. Opening it, he began reading where he left off.

5 January, 1972

Christmas holidays are over sadly, but I am very pleased to be back at Hogwarts. While I missed my mum, dad, and sister greatly, I missed Hogwarts just as much in my few weeks away. This place has certainly grown on me.

So now the second term has begun. Professor McGonagall has certainly made us step up our work. Naturally the two that complained the most were Potter and Black. I swear, they act like a little work would kill them and I know James does very well in Transfiguration.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was horrible today. I don’t understand why Gryffindor House and Slytherin House hate each other so, but Potter and Black almost got into a fight with Severus Snape today for a comment Snape made about them and a counterjinx we were practicing today. Granted, I personally think Snape would have deserved what Potter and Black were about to give him, but it wouldn’t have been right. Fighting is wrong; I don’t care what anyone says.

The wizarding world is definitely an interesting one, that is for sure. I have only begun to unravel its many mysteries.

Lily

Harry felt his eyebrows rise as he read the passage. That was the first mention of animosity between not only his father and Snape, but also Gryffindor and Slytherin. Had it really taken her that long to notice, or had nothing so extreme ever come up? Either way, Harry was greatly surprised.

After closing the diary and tucking it underneath his pillow, where he had been keeping it, he changed into a pair of pajamas and then settled back down into his bed where he eventually fell asleep.

His sleep was a fitful one. At first, he was sitting by the lake watching as the Giant Squid floated along the surface, but that slowly melted away until he was in a room with several people around him, one of which was Wormtail.

“My lord,” beseeched a man, kneeling in front of Harry, “please, we need more men. An attack on such a large Muggle city…”

“Silence!” Harry bellowed in a voice that was not his own. “Our attack on Winchester will be successful!”

“But Master—”

“I am finding your lack of faith highly disturbing, Blackshear,” Harry murmured. Suddenly, his wand was in his hand and he cried, “Avada Kedavra!” The Death Eater, Blackshear, crumpled as many of the others winced. Harry turned to the others gathered before him. The part of Harry that was him was shocked, but the Harry that he currently was now sneered.

“Any other complaints?” he asked. No one dared to move, let alone speak. Harry scowled at them all. “Mordred, Schrader, remove this filth from my sight.”

Two men stepped forward, bowing slightly, and scooped up the lifeless body of the dead Death Eater. Another stepped forward, bowed, and kneeled. “My lord, may I ask a simple inquiry?”

“What is it, Burke?” Harry asked as he settled himself down in an armchair that was directly behind him.

“I was wondering, sir, if the vampires are to accompany us to Winchester?” the Death Eater known as Burke asked.

Harry stared down at the man and tapped his long white fingernails impatiently on the arm of the chair. “They will not,” he replied. “They will have more important matters to attend to within the next month.”

Burke bowed again and rose, taking his place back amongst the group. Harry felt slightly distracted. “Go now, all of you! Go and light up the sky with the Dark Mark! Go and remind the world exactly how strong Lord Voldemort really is!”

With a cheer from the crowd of Death Eaters they all stormed out of the room, each and every one of them grabbing masks and covering their faces, leaving to strike fear into the world’s heart.

Once alone, Harry placed one of those long white fingers against his forehead. “Still there Potter?” he hissed, tapping his forehead. “Still trying to peer into my mind?” He laughed, cold and cruel. “Then you are still open to me.”

And with that, Harry awoke to the darkness of the dormitory, screaming in pain and clutching his scar.

Ron awoke, as did Neville, Seamus, and Dean. “Harry!” Ron cried. “What is it?”

“Voldemort!” Harry gasped, still clutching his scar and writhing in pain.

“Somebody go get Professor McGonagall,” Ron murmured, leaning over Harry.

Harry heard someone hurtle from the room and down the stairs and then felt very sick. He did his best to abate the nausea. Ron must have noticed his battle, because he backed away. “You’re going to be alright, Harry,” he said.

Another wave of fresh pain hit Harry and he cried out, squinting his eyes shut. “Oh God!” he gasped as yet another wave hit him.

“He’s really looking sick,” he heard Seamus whisper and he was right. Harry couldn’t take it anymore as he rolled over and vomited onto the floor. Suddenly, his pain vanished, leaving his scar tingling.

Moments later, Professor McGonagall entered the dorm with Neville, who looked very shaken. “What’s happened?”

“Harry, Professor,” Ron explained quickly. “He woke up screaming and said something about You-Know-Who.”

Professor McGonagall stepped over to Harry, who was sweating profusely and resting up against his pillow. She looked down at him and said in a rather maternal voice, “Was it a dream?”

Weakly, he nodded his head. “There’s to be an attack,” he told her.

She frowned. “Come with me Harry. We must see Professor Dumbledore,” she said, helping him up.

Ron came over with Harry’s robe. “We’ll get the mess cleaned up, Professor,” he said and helped Harry slip into the robe. He then placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, mate.”

Harry gave a meek grin and followed Professor McGonagall out of the dormitory. Others were peeking their heads out of their dormitories, wondering what all the commotion was. Professor McGonagall looked at them all and snapped, “Back to bed!”

Down the stairs, out the portrait hole, down more stairs and corridors until finally he was in front of the gargoyle that hid the entryway to the spiral staircase that led up to Dumbledore’s office.

“Fizzing Whizbee!” Professor McGonagall muttered.

At once the gargoyle hopped aside and the spiral staircase started to move upward like an escalator. Harry and Professor McGonagall quickly stepped onto it. Once at the top, Professor McGonagall grabbed the brass knocker that was shaped like a griffin and rapped sharply three times.

“Come in,” came a quiet voice from beyond the door and Professor McGonagall opened it quickly and ushered Harry inside.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, a roll of parchment and a quill laying out before him. “Ah, Minerva,” he greeted, standing up and smiling as his eyes rested on Harry. “What’s wrong? Harry?”

“Potter has had a vision involving You-Know-Who,” McGonagall told him.

Dumbledore’s sparkling blue eyes turned back to Harry. “What did you see?” he asked, conjuring up two chairs for Harry and Professor McGonagall before sitting back down himself.

Harry sat down gratefully into the chair Dumbledore provided. “He’s going to attack,” he told them wearily. “He’s going to attack Winchester.”

Dumbledore wasted no time. He quickly turned to his pet phoenix, Fawkes, and whispered something. Suddenly, Fawkes burst into flame and disappeared. “This will be a few moments,” he told them.

About five minutes later, somebody rapped on the door. “Enter!” Dumbledore said quickly, getting up as Kingsley and his fellow Aurors, Joaquin Crow and Mara Frost, entered. “Something wrong, Dumbledore?” Kingsley asked briskly.

“I have just become aware of a plot on the Muggle town of Winchester. The Ministry must be informed quickly,” Dumbledore told them.

“A plot?” Crow asked in a funny accent that sounded slightly Spanish.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied. “Voldemort.”

Four of the six in the room cringed. “You’re positive?” Kingsley asked in the same manner. Harry was wondering why he was talking in such a way to Dumbledore when he suddenly realized that he had to in order to seem inconspicuous.

“Very much so,” Dumbledore replied.

Harry suddenly became very aware of someone’s eyes focused on the back of his head. Turning his head slightly, he saw Mara Frost out of the corner of his eye watching him closely, just as she had earlier that day. He glanced down at his watch, just to do something and noticed something odd. The face, which was usually white, had turned red.

“We’ll report this immediately,” Kingsley was saying and he turned to his fellow Aurors. “Let’s go.”

Harry felt Frost’s eyes on him for a moment longer, and then she turned and left, following Kingsley and Crow.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“I’ll be okay,” Harry said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded and sat, considering him. “Minerva, if you would leave us please?”

McGonagall did not ask any questions. She simply got up and left, leaving Harry and Dumbledore alone.

“So, Harry, we have not had a chance to talk since you have been back. How have you been?” he asked.

What a thing to ask, Harry thought sourly, especially when he was probably as pale as a ghost and had recently vomited all over the dormitory floor. “I’m fine,” he replied.

“You still have access to Voldemort’s mind,” Dumbledore murmured. “It would be wise if you started to take Occlumency lessons again.”

Harry frowned. “It didn’t work last time.”

“No, it didn’t. But I think it would be best if you tried again.”

Again, Harry frowned. “If you say so.”

Dumbledore sighed. “You might as well get back to bed. Try to have a good night’s sleep, Harry.”

“I’ll try,” Harry replied. “Good night, sir.”

He left as quickly as he could and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. Along the way, he ran into Peeves, who was flying up and down the corridor, tilting all of the picture frames and causing those in the pictures to make snide comments.

“What’s Potty doing up so late?” he asked mirthfully.

“None of your business, Peeves,” Harry grumbled, walking along.

“Oooh! We’ve got a grumpy boy, yes we do!” Peeves said as he zoomed along next to Harry. “Old Peevsy will cheer you up!”

Harry rolled his eyes. Peeves zoomed around him, sticking one of his index fingers into his mouth. Just as Harry was about to tell Peeves to leave him alone, the poltergeist stuck his wet finger into Harry’s ear. “Wet Willy!” Peeves cackled merrily.

Harry shouted in disgust and Peeves blew a raspberry and took off, laughing. Harry scowled after him and then continued on, wishing someone would banish Peeves to some wasteland.

By the time he stumbled back into the common room and up the stairs to his dorm, he was extremely tired. Everyone had gone back to sleep and Harry noticed the mess he had left was gone. Gratefully, he slumped back into bed and fell promptly asleep.

*****

The next morning caused Harry to feel worse than ever once the mail arrived and Hermione opened up her copy of the Daily Prophet.

MUGGLE TOWN ATTACKED

Last night several Death Eaters attacked the Muggle town of Winchester. Several Muggles were killed when the Death Eaters set fire to many houses.

Aurors, after receiving an anonymous tip, arrived on the scene not long after, as did Muggle “firemen.” All of the Death Eaters escaped, however.

Many wizards have been lately questioning Cornelius Fudge’s abilities to be Minister of Magic. Many have been questioning his security policies. As Madam Louisa Ketchburn told the Daily Prophet: “Minister Fudge can’t even help protect the Muggle world. What makes you think he’ll be able to protect the wizarding world?”

But Mr. Phoebus Snyder, however, disagrees. “We must look after our own first. I’d rather have the Death Eaters attack Muggles than my kin.”

“Oh that’s awful!” Hermione muttered as they read the article. “Some people…”

News of the latest attack spread like wildfire throughout the school as the day went on. By the time Harry, Hermione, and Ron entered the common room after their last lesson, it was the subject of nearly every conversation.

“People are losing their faith in Fudge,” Hermione murmured as she sat down and began her homework.

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t you?” Ron commented.

*****

Tuesday meant Potions for Harry and Hermione. It was not something Harry was looking forward to. Snape had promised that they were going to try their Nocturnal Poison on each other and then the antidote. Just the thought of it all made Harry feel extremely nervous.

“What if we did something wrong?” he groaned to Hermione as they descended down into the dungeons.

“I doubt it,” Hermione said, but she didn’t sound as confident as usual.

In class, Harry felt even worse. “Now,” said Snape in his usual manner, “administer the poison. I would recommend the lighter of the two take the poison as they will be easier to catch. We wouldn’t want any damage to befall anyone.” He said this with a sneer.

Harry turned to Hermione. “I guess that means you.”

She looked very nervous. “Yeah,” she squeaked.

“Once the poison has been administered, simply wave the antidote underneath the nose of the poisoned person,” Snape said, sweeping up and down the rows.

Hermione picked up the vial of poison, closed her eyes, and gulped it down. Almost instantly she went into a coma and would have collapsed if Harry hadn’t quickly caught her.

Adjusting her in his arms, Harry reached over and grabbed the antidote, popped off the cork, and waved the vial underneath her nose. And just as quickly as she had fallen asleep, she awoke.

She blinked and stared up at him. “I think it worked.”

He grinned and helped her as she righted herself. “Yeah, it did.”

Snape eyed the two loathsomely. “Well, you survived, Miss Granger.”

“Yes sir,” she replied.

He scowled and walked away.

After class, both Harry and Hermione were in much better moods, but that instantly vanished the moment they walked into the entrance hall and heard a drawling voice call, “Hey Potter! Is it true?”

“No!” Hermione whispered to him frantically. “Harry, don’t!”

Harry turned and looked at Malfoy, who was leaning against the wall right next to the entrance that led down to the dungeons. “Is it true, Potter?” he asked again.

“You act as though I know what you’re talking about, Malfoy,” Harry said.

Malfoy sneered. “Is it true that you had a nightmare last night and screamed your head off like a little pansy?”

Hermione placed her hands on her hips. “You leave him alone, Malfoy!”

“Stay out of this, Mudblood,” he spat.

“Don’t you call her that!” Harry yelled and whipped out his wand.

“Harry, no!” Hermione moaned.

“Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t call her,” Malfoy said back and took out his own wand.

And from somewhere above, someone shouted, “Expelliarmus!” Both Harry and Malfoy’s wands flew out of their hands and clattered to the floor near the base of the marble staircase. Looking over, Harry saw Mara Frost walking down the marble staircase, her wand out and pointing directly at both Harry and Malfoy.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” she said, giving the two an icy glare, “but unless the rules have greatly changed I do believe there’s no fighting allowed here.” Her gaze flicked between Harry and Malfoy, but when she looked at Harry he thought he recognized the look on her face as the one Snape usually gave him.

Now Frost turned her attention to Hermione. “You,” she snapped. “You’re a prefect, are you not? You should have stopped these two.”

“Malfoy’s a prefect too,” Harry muttered.

“Silence!” she said sharply and she turned back to Hermione. “I would have expected more out of you. After all, many of the teachers speak very highly of you, Miss Granger.” Hermione looked quite ashamed and hurt.

Frost turned to the wands that were lying next to the stairs. “Accio!” she commanded and the wands flew to her hand. She gave them back to their proper owner. “I had better not see either one of you fighting again, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” both Harry and Malfoy muttered.

“Good, now get out of my sight!”

Harry and Hermione took off towards the marble staircase as Malfoy turned towards the dungeons. “And I so wanted to Locomotor Mortis his arse,” Harry muttered as they started up. Suddenly, they heard a loud THUMP from behind them. Turning, Harry saw that Malfoy had fallen over and his legs were stuck together as if he were in the Leg-Locker Curse.

Hermione looked back at Malfoy in awe. “How did that happen?”

Harry was equally as stunned. “I don’t know.” But part of him wondered if he had done it.

Author’s Note: Again, I’ve been able to update much faster than I previously thought. The funny thing is, I’ve had a small case of writer’s block too. Thanks again for reviewing everyone and a big thanks to Jessica, who is the only person I allowed to read this chapter before publishing it. Hopefully she and I have caught all of the typos; if not, well, c’est la vie! Enjoy!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY RETURNS

October came with a flurry of cold weather as autumn settled over the Hogwarts grounds. Harry spent most of the time in class, doing his homework, or out on the Quidditch pitch, training the team as best as he could.

On one particular rainy day, Andrew Kirke flew up beside Harry and muttered, “Why are we practicing today? It’s pouring and it’s cold!”

“Because,” Harry replied, “you may have to play in these conditions. We wouldn’t want to lose just because we can’t play in the rain.”

Kirke grumbled, but that was the last complaint Harry heard out of him.

A few days later, Professor Lupin approached Harry after class. “I’ve been hearing these rumors out of a few students saying that you started a secret Defense club last year and actually taught them a thing or two about jinxes and such. Is this true?” he asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. It was all Hermione’s idea really.”

Lupin grinned. “Well, I did hear all about that lovely Professor Umbridge person. It’s no wonder you took matters into your own hands. I heard you had a very interesting name for the group too.”

“What? The D.A.?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“Yes. Dumbledore’s Army,” Lupin said, amusement prevalent in his voice. “I can only imagine how upset the ‘High Inquisitor’ was to hear about that.”

Harry grinned. “She was pretty livid.”

Lupin laughed. “So why haven’t you been holding meetings this year?” he asked.

“Well,” Harry began. “Well, because we have you now. You actually teach.”

Lupin smiled. “While I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, Harry, I think it would be an excellent idea if you started the D.A. again. I’m sure with Professor Dumbledore’s approval it could become a legal club.”

“But, sir—”

“I am most anxious to see you teach them, Harry,” Lupin told him. “Rumors are that you’re an excellent teacher yourself.”

Back in the common room, Harry told Ron and Hermione of this.

“So he wants you to start the D.A. back up again?” Ron asked, a grin on his face. “Wicked.”

“No, not wicked,” Harry muttered. “What’s the point really? I taught you all enough last year.”

“But you could teach more people,” Hermione pointed out. “With your help they won’t be weak or defenseless.”

“And if it’s a legal club we won’t need the Room of Requirement anymore,” Ron added. “We could hold it in a classroom or something.”

Harry sighed. “Fine. When?”

“How about Halloween?” Hermione suggested. “That should give it enough time for the word to spread and to get people interested.”

Harry only wondered exactly what he was getting himself into.

*****

A week later, a note was pinned to the notice board announcing the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year.

“Great, I can stock up on candy before Halloween,” Ron said enthusiastically. “Plus I can’t wait to get my hands on some butterbeer.”

“I’m just looking forward to a little change in scenery,” Hermione commented as she scribbled furiously on a roll of parchment.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked.

“I’m writing a letter,” Hermione muttered distractedly.

“To whom?”

“Viktor.”

Ron went red. “Why are you writing a letter to him?”

She glared at him. “It’s really none of your business.”

Ron’s eyebrow shot up and he turned to Harry, who only shrugged and tried to change subjects. “Anyway, about Hogsmeade…”

*****

That weekend they queued up near the oak front doors as Filch checked off the names of the students as they passed. As Harry passed with Ron and Hermione, Filch scowled at him and checked off his name.

Once out the door, they headed with the other students third year and up towards the village of Hogsmeade, the only all-wizard village in Britain. Harry found Hogsmeade a rather wonderful place; it was safe and friendly.

The first place they went when they entered the village was the local candy shop, Honeydukes. Many of the Hogwarts students, all in their black cloaks, were already huddled inside, scouring the shelves for the items that they desired. Harry picked up three boxes of Every Flavor Beans for Ron, Hermione, and himself. Afterwards, they set out again, looking at all the shops.

“Oh look!” said Hermione, walking quickly over to a shop with a hanging sign above the door that read “Antiques.”

“A junk shop,” Ron commented.

“It’s not junk,” Hermione said. “Let’s go in.”

Harry shrugged and followed her inside, followed by a sighing Ron. Inside were numerous items that looked extremely old. Harry was pretty sure that Ron’s assessment of the shop was correct.

Hermione, however, seemed fascinated. She wandered around the store looking at all of the odds and ends. One moment she was checking out an odd-looking snow globe, the next, a kerosene lamp whose flame was a bright purple.

“Hey Harry,” called Ron. “Come and look at this!”

Harry walked over to where Ron stood and found himself standing before a rather lethal-looking axe. It reminded Harry strongly of the axe the Ministry’s executioner, Macnair, was going to use to kill Buckbeak the hippogriff.

“I suppose not everything in here is junk. Eh, but I’m not sticking around here any longer. I’m going outside. Go drag Hermione away from this old stuff and we can head to the Three Broomsticks,” Ron said and turned, heading towards the door.

Harry shook his head and started searching through the store, looking for Hermione. As he walked around, he noticed a display case with an assortment of jewelry inside. As he peered inside one item caught his interest. It was a ring that looked remarkably like the class rings he had seen some Muggles wear.

“Like the ring, do you?” said a raspy voice from behind him, causing him to jump.

An old man stood behind him with thin wisps of white hair on his nearly bald head and when he laughed, Harry noticed several of his teeth were missing. “Sorry, sonny, I didn’t mean to scare you. The name’s Ludwig Taylor,” he said, holding out his hand. “I own the place.”

Harry shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” the old man said with another smile. “Harry Potter. It’s a pleasure to meet you. So, do you like the ring?”

“Er—yeah, it looks nice,” Harry replied.

“I make them. They can be engraved with anything you want,” he told Harry.

“Nice,” Harry said with a small grin. “Er—if you could excuse me, sir…I have to find my friend.”

“Of course. You have a good day, Mr. Potter,” the man said with a smile.

“Er—thanks,” Harry said with another small smile and then went in search of Hermione again.

He found her standing in an aisle between two large shelves, looking at a small box, which was open and planning music. Harry glances at the box, decorated with musical notes, and then looked at Hermione, who looked quite sad.

“Hermione?” he asked tentatively as he approached her.

She turned her head slightly to face him and gave him a melancholy smile. “Hello, Harry,” she murmured.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“Do you hear the music it’s playing?” she asked quietly.

“Yes...” he said, wondering where this was leading.

“My grandma used to sing that song to me when I was little,” she replied.

Harry turned back to the music box and listened to the song closely. He didn’t recognize it, but he thought it was pretty just the same.

Frowning slightly, he turned back to her and said, “Ron’s waiting for us outside. He’d like to go to the Three Broomsticks.”

She sighed. “Okay,” she murmured and with Harry, walked away from the box and out of the shop, where Ron was standing against a wall, waiting.

“What took you so long?” he asked. “Come on, let’s go.”

The three of them walked down the street to the Three Broomsticks and as they opened the doors, they came face-to-face with the much loathed Rita Skeeter.

“Well, well, well, hello Harry, Hermione, and…friend.” Ron scowled. “How are you this fine day?”

“We were enjoying it,” Hermione muttered.

Rita scowled at her. “Harry, do you feel up to an interview? The Prophet would love to get an article on you.”

“So you’ve got your job back, do you?” Harry asked. “No thanks, Rita.”

Rita scowled again. “Yes, I do have my job back.”

“Thanks to Harry,” Hermione added.

“You know, Miss Perfect, I am so happy our little year-long agreement is up,” Rita spat.

“Oh, yes, go make up some garbage about Harry or myself. Most people won’t believe you anymore,” Hermione replied.

“But it would give us all something to laugh at,” said Draco Malfoy, who was standing behind Rita now with Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson.

Rita smile appreciatively at Malfoy. “How about an interview with you, Draco, on Harry here.”

Malfoy frowned. “Why would I want to do an article all about Potter?” he spat.

Rita raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Draco,” Pansy muttered beside him. “Let’s go. See you, Rita!”

Rita turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Well, I’ll just let you three get back to your day. Owl me Harry if you reconsider the interview.” With that, she turned and left.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks. “Honestly!” she was muttering.

They each bought themselves a butterbeer and then settled themselves around a table towards the back of the pub. Not too far away from them, Ginny was sitting with Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“What the bloody hell is going on over there?” Ron wondered.

“Hmm?” Hermione followed his gaze and grinned. “Oh, Justin asked Ginny out on a date last week.”

“WHAT!” Ron bellowed, causing many in the pub to turn and stare at him. His face turned a bright red and he muttered an apology. “What do you mean, Hermione?” he asked in a fierce whisper.

“Just what I said,” Hermione replied back calmly. “Justin asked her out. Honestly, you act like the world has ended.”

“She’s my baby sister!” Ron growled.

“And she’s fifteen years old,” Hermione said sternly. “She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck.”

Harry glanced over at the table Ginny and Justin were sitting at and he noticed Justin shoot a nervous glance over at Ron. Harry had to give Justin some credit; he knew when to be scared. Harry wondered how worse it would have been if Fred and George were still around.

As they sat and guzzled down butterbeer, talking about various subjects to amuse themselves, Harry continuously felt someone’s gaze on the table. He glanced over at Justin, but he was listening to something Ginny was saying and not paying attention to Harry’s table at all. Searching around the pub, Harry finally saw who was staring: Luna Lovegood. But she wasn’t staring at Harry; she was staring at Ron.

“Don’t look, Ron,” Harry murmured.

“Don’t look? Don’t look where?” Naturally, he looked up and caught Luna’s eye. Turning red once again, he quickly looked back down. “Gee, thanks, Harry.”

Hermione looked over at Luna for a moment, seemed to consider her, and then turned back to Harry and Ron with a grin on her face.

“What are you smiling about?” Ron muttered.

“Oh, nothing,” Hermione replied. “At least, nothing you want to hear.”

Ron gave her a funny look. “What?”

Hermione just simply shook her head. “You’ll have to figure it out for yourself. I could always be wrong…”

“Ha!” Ron muttered. “You’re never wrong.”

Hermione grinned at this comment and finished up the last of her butterbeer. “Come on, let’s go do something else,” she said, getting up from the table. Harry and Ron quickly downed their drinks and followed her.

*****

The Monday after their Hogsmeade weekend, Harry noticed flyers around Hogwarts inviting everyone to attend the first D.A. meeting of the year on Halloween.

“Who made these?” Harry asked, showing one to Ron and Hermione.

“Oh…er—I did,” Hermione said meekly.

“Hermione!” he exclaimed.

“The whole point of having the D.A. this year is to teach more people, Harry,” she explained calmly. “How can you teach more people when they don’t know about it?”

He scowled and glanced back down at the flyer. “Before the feast, eh?”

“Yes. And Professor Lupin has donated his classroom. He says he’ll be there to watch, too,” Hermione told him.

“He will?” Ron asked, looking quite taken aback. “You hear that, Harry? Lupin’s going to come and see you teach!”

Harry, if anything, felt rather queasy. But by the next day, he felt, if possible, even worse.

“A Defense Club taught by you, Potter?” Malfoy sneered in Potions. “That’s not legal.”

“Professor Lupin will be there,” Hermione retorted. “It’s perfectly legal. You can ask Professor Dumbledore yourself.”

“Silence, Miss Granger! Ten points from Gryffindor!” Snape snapped. “Now, get back to work on your stamina potion!”

Quidditch practice seemed even worse.

“It sounds cool,” Andrew Kirke was saying.

“Yeah, it does,” agreed his fellow Beater Alex McGuire. “And you teach it, Harry?”

“He sure does,” Ron said, grinning. Ron found the whole thing quite amusing.

“I’m there,” Alex said.

“Me too,” Andrew replied.

“Ally, Dylan, and Laura think it would be interesting too,” said Hunter quietly from next to Ginny.

“Laura?” Harry wondered.

“Laura MacKenzie,” Hunter muttered. “She and Ally are becoming good friends.”

“Ah,” Harry replied.

*****

By Halloween, Harry heard about several people who were interested. All of the former D.A. members assured Harry that they would be coming back; all except Cho and her friend Marietta.

His Herbology class went by in a blur. He remembered something about pruning some oddly shaped fichus that kept emitting a foul odor, making everyone in the class gag and run out of the greenhouse once the bell rang for some fresh air.

After lunch, Professor Lupin gave a particularly interesting class, showing them all an ashwinder, which was a thin, gray serpent with glowing red eyes. The serpent was laying fiery hot eggs near a shadowed corner in Lupin’s class.

“Professor Snape will be very pleased to have these,” Lupin told them. “They can be used as ingredients for potions.”

After the snake was done laying eggs, Lupin quickly tossed the serpent back into a magical fire and asked for a two page essay on them.

“To be handed in on Monday,” he said as the class exited the room.

Up in the common room, Harry sat down on the sofa and stared into the fire, thinking about what was going to happen at the D.A. meeting. How many people were going to show up? How many of them actually wanted to learn how to defend themselves? Could Harry even teach them all?

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione murmured to him from the armchair she was sitting in. She had a book lying open on the arm next to her while she studied him thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’m sure I will be,” Harry said, although he really didn’t feel he would be at the moment. His stomach was doing flip-flops and he wished he had never eaten those pasties during lunch.

“Besides,” Hermione went on, giving him a rather penetrating look, “once it’s all over we can go to the feast, and that’s always fun.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured.

The time to go back to Professor Lupin’s room came quickly. Harry hated how fast time could fly when you didn’t want it to. It was rather annoying.

As he, Ron, and Hermione traveled down the corridors, they spotted Nearly Headless Nick floating along ahead.

“Hey Nick!” Harry called.

Nick turned and smiled. “Well, hello, Harry! Hello, Ron, Hermione! How are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” Harry asked.

“Wonderful. I’m looking forward to my party tonight,” he said, pulling his ruffled collar high up his partially severed neck.

“Ah, that’s right. Today’s your deathday,” Harry said, making Nick beam.

“Indeed it is, and I’m hoping to get my Headless Hunt letter tonight too, considering Podmore has been sacked,” he told them, looking absolutely delighted. “Well, I’ll let you three run along. I hear Harry here is going to be running some sort of club. I’m sure it will be fun.”

Harry chuckled nervously. “Yeah, thanks, Nick.”

“Of course,” he said and floated away, humming.

“I’ve never seen him look so cheerful in all my life,” Ron muttered to Harry and Hermione as they continued on their way to Lupin’s class.

By the time they made it, several people were already inside the classroom, talking. A buzz of excitement filled the air as Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the room and Harry tried to pay little attention to it. Instead he searched for Lupin, who was standing in a corner in the front of the room. Harry immediately approached him.

“Professor,” he said, looking around at the people in the room nervously.

“Hello, Harry. All ready?” Lupin asked, a smile forming on his face.

Harry continued to look around. “Are all these people here to learn from me?” he asked, staring as more and more people entered the classroom.

“Apparently. I’m looking forward to seeing you teach,” Lupin said. “I won’t be interfering.”

That made Harry feel, if possible, more nervous. “Er—okay.”

“Harry!” Hermione said, rushing over. “We’re ready to begin.”

He sighed and nodded. Hermione ran back and joined the crowd as Harry slowly made his way towards the head of the classroom.

“Oh, and Harry?” Lupin called.

He turned back. “Yes?”

“Here,” he replied, tossing something silver Harry’s way.

Harry caught it and looked down to see a whistle. He grinned. “Thanks,” he murmured. Looking back at the crowd, he placed the whistle to his lips and blew loudly, silencing everyone.

“Erm—hello,” he said to all of the faces now looking at him. “Well, er, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Harry Potter and last year, er, my friends and I started a little group called Dumbledore’s Army, or D.A. for short, to help people to learn how to defend themselves.

“The group did very well last year. I am proud of their accomplishments. Each and every one of them learned a great deal about how to defend themselves. I’m hoping that you all want the same thing. I’m hoping that you want to learn how to defend yourselves from the darkness that is out there. Believe me, I know it’s out there.

“I don’t ask for much. I only ask that you listen, pay attention, and try. Don’t be afraid to fail on your first, second, or even third try. Within time, with a little patience, you’ll get it.” He stared out at them all as they listened in rapt silence.

“Now then, I think a good place to start is the Disarming Spell. So, if you would all—”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” came a drawling voice from the back of the room. “The Disarming Spell? That’s a first year spell, that is!”

Malfoy stepped up through the crowd and sneered at Harry. “I thought you taught important jinxes and such, Potter. Then again, I think a chimpanzee would teach this lot better than you.”

“Do you really think so, Malfoy?” Harry said, irritated.

“Yeah. I bet I could take you on easy,” Malfoy muttered.

Harry frowned. “Well then, why don’t we give them a show?” he said, gesturing to the crowd. “Come on then.”

The gathering started to shuffle backwards as Malfoy stepped forward and both he and Harry took out their wands. They stood across from each other and raised their wands high. Harry waited for Malfoy to strike.

He didn’t have to wait long. Malfoy waved his wand and shouted, “Conjunctiva!”

“Protego!” Harry shouted, and was very glad he did so. He knew that Malfoy would have won easily if he had managed to perform the Conjunctivitis Curse on him.

Malfoy attacked again, this time using a Banishing Charm. Harry dodged out of the way and cast a perfect Jelly-Legs Jinx on him, causing Malfoy to topple over.

“Locomotor Mortis!” Malfoy roared from his place on the floor.

Harry’s legs snapped together. If he tried to move, he would surely fall, so he stood his ground as Malfoy tried to stand on his wobbly legs.

Malfoy turned towards Harry, his wand held high. Harry knew he thought that he had won. Harry knew he could use this to his advantage.

A smirk came over Malfoy’s face. “Stup—”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried with a wave of his wand and Malfoy’s wand went flying. Harry then pointed his wand at himself, muttered, “Finite Incantatem,” and then pointed his wand at Malfoy, who was trying to run for his wand, his legs trying to move in the opposite direction. “Don’t move,” Harry growled.

Malfoy stopped, but his legs gave way and he fell flat on his face, causing the crowd to erupt in laughter.

“And there you have it,” Harry announced to the crowd, “a Disarming Spell. Very useful.”

They all clapped and cheered, sounding thoroughly excited. Harry couldn’t help but grin. Malfoy hauled himself up on his wobbly legs as Crabbe and Goyle grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him out of the room, Pansy Parkinson following along behind them carrying his wand, all the while scowling at Harry.

“So, the Disarming Spell…” Harry went on, “it’s ‘expelliarmus.’ Say that one time, would you?”

“Expelliarmus,” the group chanted.

“Great. So, if you all could grab a partner, we’ll practice the Disarming Spell. Er—if my fellow D.A. members could possibly help the others,” Harry said, looking over at Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the others, “I would greatly appreciate it.”

The crowd started moving around and pairing up. Once they did, Harry began to walk around, watching people as they disarmed their partners. He corrected several as he went and he watched as the other D.A. members helped out the newcomers.

“Hey Harry!” called Dylan Brown, who was paired with Hunter. “Watch this! Expelliarmus!” Hunter’s wand flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

“Very good, Dylan,” Harry commented and moved on.

By the end of the session, many had perfected the Disarming Spell, which pleased Harry. He couldn’t help but grin as he addressed the group again.

“That was really good,” he said, watching as several people beamed in pride. “Next time, we’ll learn a few jinxes and such. Now,” he murmured as he checked his watch, “it’s almost time for the Halloween feast, so let’s get going.”

Everyone started to shuffle out of the classroom, all of them talking. Lupin stepped up next to Harry and grinned. “Excellent, Harry, excellent. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry muttered sheepishly.

“Great job today, Harry,” Hermione told him as she and Ron stepped up next to him and Professor Lupin. “You can tell that they really learned something today. You might get a bigger assembly next time.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and Ron laughed. “C’mon, Harry, let’s get down to the Great Hall and grab some food. I’m sure the house-elves have prepared loads—just kidding Hermione!” he added, chuckling at the look she gave him.

“See you at the feast, Professor,” Hermione said as she followed both Harry and Ron out the door.

The Great Hall, as usual for the Halloween feast, was decorated in its usual live bats and floating jack-o-lanterns. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down at their usual spots and waited for the feast to begin. Not long after, Lupin walked in, talking to Kingsley. Harry noticed Crow rush in about a minute after. He looked up to the staff table. Everyone was seated and talking with one another; everyone except the third Auror, Mara Frost. Harry wondered where she was.

A moment later the golden plates around them all filled with food that made Harry’s mouth water. He and Ron started to dish up immediately, talking about Harry and Malfoy’s duel.

“He looked rather pink when Crabbe and Goyle hauled him out,” Ron said and bit into a piece of chicken.

“Yeah, that was pretty good, Harry,” Hermione said, buttering a roll.

Harry grinned and noticed the scowling form of Mara Frost enter the Great Hall, striding up to the staff table and muttering something to Dumbledore before sitting down between Kingsley and Crow.

“So what are you planning on doing for the next meeting?” Ron asked.

“The Impediment Jinx, I think,” Harry replied, going back to his meal.

“Great! I love that one,” Ron said with a grin.

“Maybe the Leg-Locker Curse and Jelly-Legs Jinx too, seeing as they’ll probably want to know how to do those after seeing Malfoy and I use them,” Harry muttered.

Ginny scooted down next to Hermione and said, “Hey, I’ve just been talking to some forth years and they think the D.A. is awesome. Within time I really do think we will be an army.”

“Good,” Hermione murmured.

“Justin’s happy that we’re back,” Ginny went on.

“Speaking of Justin,” Ron said, eyeing his sister. “When did this start? Aren’t you still getting over Dean, who I still have no idea why you broke up with?”

Ginny scowled. “I am over Dean, and the reason why we broke up is that he just requires too much attention. He wanted me to consider him the center of my universe.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “That doesn’t sound like Dean.”

Ginny turned that scowl towards Harry. “Then you apparently don’t know him,” she muttered and scooted away.

Hermione sighed. “Nice going you two.”

Ron shrugged and shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth while Harry frowned. He hadn’t meant to get Ginny even more upset, he just found it hard to believe.

After the feast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Great Hall and went up the marble staircase. As they walked up the stairs, they ran into Luna Lovegood, who smiled at each of them.

“Hello, Ronald. Hello, Harry, Hermione,” she said. “Have a nice time at the feast?”

“Er—yeah,” Harry replied as they headed up another flight of steps and stepped into a puddle of water.

“What the…” Ron murmured, turning back to Harry, Hermione, and Luna. “What do you suppose…?”

“Let’s go check it out,” Harry said, heading down the second floor corridor.

The other three followed him as he walked down the hall, which got progressively more flooded as they traveled through it. Eventually, they ended up in front of a door that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had avoided for the past four years.

“Moaning Myrtle,” Ron groaned.

“You know about Myrtle?” Luna asked, looking as though the water on the floor was perfectly normal.

“Er—yeah, we’ve met her,” Ron muttered.

“Do you think we should see why she’s flooding the bathroom?” Harry asked.

Luna turned to him. “That’s a girls’ bathroom.”

Ron shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Come on,” Harry said, making up his mind.

He opened the door and walked into a nightmare.

Water was everywhere, as was blood. It drenched the walls and the floors and gave the bathroom a foul smelling odor. One of death.

And in the middle of the floor was the small dead body of a girl. Hermione gasped.

“Bloody hell,” Ron murmured, and his assessment wasn’t too far off.

Harry rushed over to the body and kneeled down, staring into the face of the girl that no longer lived. He saw a gash in her robes. “Dear God,” he whispered and turned back to Ron, Hermione, and Luna, who, for once, had a look of shock on her face. “Go get help!” he yelled.

Both Ron and Luna turned around and ran, while Hermione stepped forward cautiously. “What—”

“I think she was stabbed,” Harry murmured, feeling quite sick to his stomach now, but he didn’t dare move.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“Do you recognize her?” Harry asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Her name was June Winters,” said a moping voice from above them. Looking up, Harry and Hermione saw Moaning Myrtle floating above them. “She was a first year who used my toilet once. Funny name, isn’t it? June Winters.”

“Myrtle, did you see what happened?” Harry asked quickly.

Myrtle floated down next to him. “No, I was at Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party. Peeves played a cruel joke on me and I came back here to find her like that,” she said, pointing at the body.

At that moment, Professors McGonagall and Snape ran through the door, accompanied by Ron and Luna. Professor McGonagall shrieked when she saw the body.

“Oh my heavens! What…how…explain!” she snapped.

“The corridor was flooded,” Hermione told her. “We came to see what was wrong.”

Snape sneered. “And you two,” he said, looking at Harry and Ron, “decided it was okay to walk into a girls’ lavatory?”

“Aren’t you glad we did?” Harry retorted.

Snape scowled, but before he could say anything, Professor McGonagall said, “We must inform Professor Sprout so that she may inform Miss Winters’ family. Oh, how did this happen?”

“I think she may have been stabbed, Professor,” Harry told her. “Look at the gash in her robes.”

McGonagall cringed. “All of you, I want you to go back to your common rooms now, and don’t speak a word of this, do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor,” they all replied.

“Good, now off you go.”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, not saying anything. It wasn’t until Luna was about to part ways with them did she say, “Something very wrong is happening here.”

Once they reached Gryffindor Tower Ron asked, “Who do you think did it?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Author’s Note: School starts for me in a week. Horrible, isn’t it? I won’t be able to spend a lot of time on this. Hopefully I’ll have Chapter 19 up before I go back to school, but there are no guarantees. Anyway, thank you so much for reviewing everyone! I really appreciate it. Also, thanks again to Jessica for checking this over for me and a special thanks to Kalie for helping me come up with some names and to Romy and Nitya, my Spanish advisors. Now I know which language I should have taken while in high school. Anyway, on with the next chapter!

CHAPTER EIGTHTEEN

UNSAFE GROUND

June Winters’ death was announced the next morning at breakfast by a very solemn Dumbledore, although he did not say how. It was apparent that he understood that it wouldn’t take long for the student body to find out about her death, but how she died would not be revealed unless Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, or the staff told. Dumbledore must have spoken to Moaning Myrtle, for not even the ghosts knew how the young Hufflepuff first year died.

The Aurors seemed very upset by the news. The following Monday, Harry walked by the three of them in a corridor as they were discussing the death.

“A little girl is dead! What are we to do?” Crow was saying in his funny accent.

Harry jumped behind a statue and listened closely.

“We have a mission,” Frost muttered. “We are to keep Hogwarts as safe as possible.”

“Death!” Crow screeched. “Death! That is what has happened here! Hogwarts is not safe!”

“We must figure out how she died,” Kingsley murmured. “If we do that then hopefully we can protect the rest of the students.”

“There are no clues,” Frost said coldly. “We’ve scanned that loo for prints and they all must have been washed away when that pathetic ghost decided to flood the place.”

“And this was done not by the wizard’s way,” Crow said. “She was stabbed.”

“That’s probably because if the murderer had done it by wand we could simply use prior incantato and figure out who did it,” Frost told him.

“That would take a lot of time,” Crow murmured.

“Indeed it would,” Kingsley said. “But the fact of the matter is, she was not killed by a spell, she was killed by a blade.”

“A blade, which could easily be wiped clean,” Frost murmured.

Harry wanted to hear more, but at that moment the bell rang and he realized he was late to his class. He slipped away, making sure the Aurors didn’t spot him, and rushed down to Transfiguration, where he apologized profusely to Professor McGonagall.

“I would hope that as you have a watch, Potter, you would be mindful of the time,” she muttered as he took his seat next to Ron. “Now, as I was saying before we were interrupted, we will be spending the rest of the term transfiguring large objects into large animals. After the Christmas holiday is over and the second term begins, we will begin human transformation. You will even learn the beginning steps on how to become an Animagus.” The class murmured with interest.

She set them to work transfiguring objects into animals. It was very difficult work. Harry was at least able to place spots on the table he was trying to transfigure into a Dalmatian. Hermione was doing the best of them all; her volume of Hogwarts, a History turned into an eagle, although the wings were made out of the pages of the book. She sighed wearily as Professor McGonagall told them to clean up.

Later on that day, Harry sat in the common room, doing his homework when Hunter, Ally, Dylan, and another girl that Harry didn’t recognize walked in whispering to each other. Harry listened closely and caught part of their conversation.

“No one’s saying how, that’s for sure,” Dylan was murmuring.

“Maybe they don’t know how,” the other girl said.

“They do, Laura, they do,” Ally assured.

“They’re just not saying,” Dylan said.

The girl known as Laura frowned. “But why? I mean, if it was just an accident or something—”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Hunter murmured.

Dylan nodded. “My sister’s told me that some pretty dodgy stuff happens here. Like back when she was a second year, she told me something called the ‘Chamber of Secrets’ was opened and petrified a bunch of people.”

“So what happened to June then?” Laura wondered.

Hunter frowned. “I think she was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Laura whispered frantically. Hunter nodded grimly.

“But why, and by whom are the real questions,” Ally said.

“What do we know about June?” Hunter asked.

“Erm…she was a Hufflepuff first year,” Dylan replied.

“And she was Muggle-born, not that that is important. Maybe she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ally said.

“Harry?”

Harry jumped. He turned to see Ron standing next to him. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I was wondering if I could borrow your Astronomy book.”

“Er—Yeah, sure,” he replied. “It’s up in our dorm. Come on, I’ll go get it for you.”

They trooped up the stairs and to their dormitory where they found Neville lying on his bed. “Hey Neville,” Ron greeted as Harry fetched his Astronomy book.

“Hello,” he said gloomily.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, handing the book to Ron.

“Nothing,” he replied.

Harry frowned. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“What is it, Neville?” Ron asked. “Classes? Teachers? Home life? A girl?” Neville stiffened slightly at the last one and Ron grinned. “So it’s a girl?”

Neville didn’t make a sound.

“Who?” Ron pressed.

“I’m not telling,” Neville replied. “It’s not like it would ever work out anyway.”

“Well how are you supposed to know unless you try?” Ron asked, grinning.

Neville shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway—she’s already with someone.”

Harry frowned. “Well then, Neville, she’s obviously got the wrong guy.”

Neville sighed. “No one would ever want to go out with me.”

Ron looked as though he actually agreed, but Harry shook his head. “I’m sure somebody does, Neville. You just aren’t looking hard enough.”

“Yeah, Neville, Harry’s right,” Ron said, looking as though he could barely contain his laughter.

“Yeah, right. You two are just trying to be nice,” Neville said sadly.

Ron cleared his throat and said very seriously, “Neville, if you keep that attitude up, you’ll never know.”

Neville only sighed.

*****

The next afternoon found Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Gryffindor team out practicing. In only a week and a half would they be playing Slytherin in the first match of the year. The tension was rising between both Houses. That morning, a Slytherin seventh year had tried to trip Ron down the staircase as they headed to Charms.

“I can’t wait to beat those smarmy buggers,” Ron growled as they mounted their brooms when practice began.

The first Slytherin attack sent the team into a furious frenzy. It would have been flawless had Andrew Kirke not had been so angry and hit a Bludger so hard it nearly took Katie Bell’s head off.

“Careful Andrew!” Harry yelled as he released the Snitch again, waited about ten seconds, and then tore off after it again.

“Sorry!” he called.

By the time Harry and Ron dragged themselves up to Gryffindor Tower, thoroughly exhausted, it was time for dinner.

“Let’s just turn ourselves around—no sitting down—and go right back downstairs to the Great Hall,” Ron muttered.

At dinner, they slumped down at the Gryffindor table and dished up until their plates were full. Ron then looked at the empty seat next to Harry. “Where’s Hermione?” he asked.

His question was answered immediately as Hermione entered the Great Hall with a wide grin on her face. “Hello,” she said happily as she sat down next to Harry and began to dish herself up some food.

“Where were you?” Ron asked.

“In the library,” she replied.

“Of course,” Ron muttered.

His snide comment didn’t make the grin on her face falter. “I’ve come up with an idea for S.P.E.W.”

“You what?” Ron groaned.

“I’ve come up with an idea,” she repeated. “I’m going to start a petition—two actually—and then send them off with a letter to the Ministry of Magic.”

Ron stared at Hermione, wide-eyed, and then turned to Harry. “She’s mad!”

Harry chose not to comment on that and instead asked Hermione, “Why two petitions?”

“One for…well, humans and the other for house-elves,” she said. “I figured if I had enough people sign the one petition and got enough house-elves to sign the other, the Ministry couldn’t ignore it.”

Ron laughed. “Well, good luck with that.”

She gave him a wry look. “What are you talking about? You’ll be signing it too.”

“Me? But—”

“You’re a member of S.P.E.W. Why wouldn’t you sign it?” she said, smiling at him sweetly.

Harry could see his jaw clench and unclench until he finally muttered, “Fine, I’ll sign.”

Her smile grew even bigger. “Great! And you, Harry?” she asked, turning to him.

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, of course I’ll sign.”

She beamed and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you!”

Harry could only laugh.

*****

The rest of the week went without incident, unless a Gryffindor third year’s scuffle with a Slytherin fifth year was to be counted. Harry found the Aurors making rounds after dinner, eyeing anything and everything. Anytime Mara Frost swept past him, she gave him the same cold, hateful glare.

Saturday afternoon, while the Quidditch team was practicing, Harry noticed a dark figure wearing a hood walk into the stadium. Wondering if it was a Slytherin spy, he flew down and yelled, “Hey!” The figure stopped and looked up at Harry as he hovered just above the stands.

“Yes?” the figure asked, removing his hood and revealing himself to be Joaquin Crow, the Auror.

“Er—what are you going here?” Harry asked, a little alarmed that an Auror was in the stadium.

“I am just doing my rounds,” Crow replied, but then smiled. “Okay, that’s a lie. I’m here to watch the Quidditch practice.”

“Why?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Crow shrugged. “Because I love Quidditch. I’m looking forward to seeing Gryffindor and Slytherin play next weekend. Should be fun.”

“Er—okay,” Harry muttered and flew back up to join his team.

The practice went as well as the last one—only a few minor errors that they would work on the upcoming week. Other than that, Harry felt confident.

But that confidence sunk like a stone when Harry saw seven green-clad people walk onto the pitch.

“Time’s up, Potter!” yelled the Slytherin captain, Graham Montague.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team landed in front of the Slytherin team. “What are you on about?” Harry asked. “I’ve booked the pitch for the entire afternoon, as always.”

“Not today, Potter,” Montague said, sneering. “Our new Chasers need time on our new brooms.”

“New brooms?” Ron asked, scowling.

“That’s right Weasley,” Malfoy said from his spot between Crabbe and Goyle. “Our new brooms. Seven brand new Mercury Silvers. My mum bought them all for us.”

“Yeah, because your daddy couldn’t,” Ginny said scathingly, causing the entire Gryffindor team to laugh.

“Shut your mouth, Weasley!” Malfoy spat.

“Don’t tell my sister to shut up, you ferret!” Ron growled.

“Quiet Weasel! I didn’t ask you to speak,” Malfoy said haughtily.

“Sod off, Malfoy!” Ron snapped back.

“Montague!” Katie Bell screamed. “Get your team away from us now!”

“Nothing I can do, Head Girl,” Montague snapped back and the whole Slytherin team snickered.

Harry rubbed his forehead, wishing he could shut them all up. “If only I had my wand,” he muttered to himself, “then I could just say ‘Silencio’ and be done with it.”

And suddenly, everyone stopped yelling. Montague grasped at his own throat, trying to speak, but he couldn’t.

By this time, Crow had finally reached them. “What is going on?” he asked.

Several people tried to explain, but couldn’t because their vocal cords for some odd reason would not produce any sound.

Harry answered for all of them. “Just a misunderstanding,” he replied. “But it’s all cleared up now. We’re letting the Slytherin team take the pitch. We don’t need anymore practice anyhow.”

The Slytherin team glowered at him.

“Ah, very well then,” Crow said.

Harry motioned for his team to head back to the locker room to change. As he headed back himself, Crow walked along beside him.

“You are an excellent flyer, Mr. Potter,” he said. “You remind me of my younger brother.”

“Your brother?” Harry asked.

“Sí, mi hermano,” he replied. “He plays Quidditch too.”

“He does? What team?” Harry asked.

“Well, he plays for the Spanish National Team every time the World Cup plays, but normally he plays for the Toledo Toros. He’s a damn fine Beater,” Crow said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“So you’re from Spain?”

“Well, I was born in Spain. My mother, Adelaida Sangre Pura-Crow, comes from a very prominent pureblood Spanish family. My father comes from an English pureblood family. I lived in Spain for three years, but after Mateo was born we moved to London, although we returned to Spain for the summer.”

“So, you went to school here, at Hogwarts?”

Crow nodded. “Sí. A Ravenclaw. So I will be rooting for them when they play against you,” he said with a smile that showed off his white teeth.

“That’s okay,” Harry said. “I’m used to getting booed. So was your brother a Ravenclaw too?”

“Mateo?” Crow frowned. “He was only at Hogwarts for a year and he was sorted into Hufflepuff.”

“A year?” Harry asked, then realized he was being rude. “Er—sorry.”

“No, it is quite alright,” Crow said. “My parents divorced after my fourth year at Hogwarts. As Mateo was only a first year, he went to live with my mother in Spain, but as I would be taking my O.W.L.s the next year, Mother said that I would have to stay with my father and take them. Oh how I wanted to return to Spain with my mother and brother. I loved it there.”

Harry frowned. “So—erm—what happened?”

“My mother told me that if I received twelve O.W.L.s I could go to the Sombrero Negro School in Spain.” He smiled bitterly. “I received eleven.”

“So you didn’t go?”

“No, I remained in England where after Hogwarts I went into Auror training. I only return to Spain to see my brother play,” he said as they reached the locker room. “England, I realized, is where I belong.”

Harry smiled slightly as he opened up the locker room door.

“Well, Mr. Potter, it has been a pleasure talking to you,” Crow said, extending his hand, which Harry took.

“And you too,” he said.

“Well, hasta luego,” Crow said, turning and heading back towards the castle.

*****

By the following Wednesday, the weather had turned extremely cold. Many were walking to their classes wearing their cloaks and gloves.

“I hope it warms up a little for this Saturday,” Ron said as they crossed the grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures class, his teeth chattering.

Hagrid, thankfully, had a fire blazing for them all outside his cabin. He stood outside with his boarhound, Fang, and next to a large glass case holding several furry insects.

“Ev’ryone here?” he asked, looking around.

“Everyone who is stupid enough to go out in this cold weather,” Malfoy muttered.

“If you haven’t noticed, Malfoy, you’re one of those so-called ‘stupid’ people too,” Hermione retorted.

Malfoy scowled, but Hagrid cut off any chance he had to speak. “Today we’ll be studyin’ glumbumbles. Now who can tell me what’s so special about a glumbumble?”

Hermione raised her hand and said, “A glumbumble produces a fluid that can cause sadness.”

“Very good. Five points ter Gryffindor,” Hagrid said, smiling underneath his wild beard. “Now, yeh see, glumbumbles will only eat nettles, so that’s what we’re gonna be doin’ today.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione got to work feeding the glumbumbles their nettles along with the rest of the class. Not too far away they could hear Malfoy muttering to Crabbe and Goyle about how much a waste of time the class was. Harry felt a strong urge to hex Malfoy then and there, but Hagrid idled his way over between them.

“How’ve yeh all been?” he asked.

“Cold,” Ron muttered, his teeth still chattering.

“I was thinkin’ about salamanders for today, but then I thought that they would be better for the really cold weather, eh?” Hagrid said.

“Good idea,” Hermione said, shivering. “I mean, there’s not even snow on the ground yet.”

“I can’ wait for next term,” Hagrid said, grinning. “I got this special order comin’ in. I think the class will really like it.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at each other with the same expression on their faces—fear. They knew Hagrid’s love for dangerous creatures and they only hoped that whatever he was planning wouldn’t end up with any of them in the Hospital Wing.

“That’s—er—great, Hagrid,” Harry said.

He beamed.

*****

That night, Harry laid in his four-poster, bundled up with his mother’s diary. He was now reading several entries a night, a desire to connect with his mother growing stronger and stronger each day.

7 February, 1972

The second Quidditch match of the season is drawing nearer and nearer—Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. I’m hoping, for Gryffindor’s sake, that we don’t lose like we did to Slytherin, because that seemed to send the entire House into a strange sort of depression. I don’t see why a person’s happiness should be mandated by the win or loss in a sport. It’s quite ridiculous!

We received our marks back from our Dark Arts test. I actually received the highest grade! I’m so proud, although a girl named Mara Frost kept watching me throughout the rest of the class. I don’t understand why.

Lily

8 February, 1972

Today is my twelfth birthday! It was a great day too! Even the antics of Potter and Black couldn’t dampen my day. Mum and Dad sent me a brand new book and several new clips for my hair. They even bought me color changing ink! The only thing I miss about not having my birthday at home is that there is no cake and I really miss the chocolate cake Mum used to always make for me.

The girls in my dormitory—Belinda Drake, Samantha Fitzgerald, Tabitha Kelley, and Zelda Starling—have all decided to throw me a little party. They’re all such wonderful people, Belinda especially. As the year goes on we are becoming more and more like sisters. She’s definitely my best friend here. Oh my, the party is beginning…I must go!

Lily

Harry smiled and thought of what he, Ron, and Ginny had done for Hermione for her birthday. Sighing, he placed the diary back underneath his pillow, gathered up more of his blankets around him, and closed his eyes, falling asleep.

He was in a room, a dark room, with a fireplace that did not hold a fire. He was sitting in a chair in the darkness, waiting. What he was waiting for, he did not know.

There was a small knock at the door and Harry said in a raspy voice, “Enter.”

A bright light shined through the doorway as it was opened and squinting, Harry saw a bald man enter before closing the door and returning the room to darkness. The bald man trembled.

Harry took out his wand and pointed it towards the fireplace. “Incendio,” he muttered and flames erupted in the fireplace, casting some light into the room. “What is it, Wormtail?” he asked.

“Master, they are ready,” Wormtail said, bowing.

“Good. Carry on then—it is time,” he said and rubbed his forehead. “Now leave me, Wormtail.”

“Yes, Master,” Wormtail said, continuing to bow as he backed out of the room, illuminating it once more when he opened the door and then returning it back to its state once he closed it.

Harry laughed, high-pitched and cruel and suddenly, Harry awoke, laughing. He would have woken everyone else in the dorm up, but Neville’s loud snoring drowned out his laughter. Breathing slowly, Harry calmed himself, but immediately started to worry. Voldemort was up to something and Harry had no idea what it was. Rubbing his aching scar, he tried to think of what it would possibly be, but the more and more the pain in scar dulled, the less and less he remembered. He felt rather weary too and as he wondered about Voldemort’s next plan of attack, he fell asleep, only to be shaken awake by Ron several hours later.

“Harry? Harry, come on, wake up! Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago and if you don’t get up quick, you’ll completely miss it and you’ll probably be late for class. Get up!”

“Wha—okay,” he said, rubbing his eyes and grabbing his glasses off the nightstand next to him.

“Hurry,” Ron urged. “I’ll see you down in the Great Hall.”

“Okay,” Harry mumbled, fetching his school robes.

He dressed quickly and gathered up his supplies for Potions, his first lesson of the day. Then he ran down to the Great Hall and walked in to find everyone in the room pointing at something and murmuring to themselves. Harry walked over and sat down next to Hermione, who was in deep discussion with Ron.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Harry—look,” Hermione said, thrusting her copy of the Daily Prophet at him.

Harry read the first headline and felt a jolt of surprise.

BREAKOUT!

The Ministry of Magic announced early this morning that there was a major breech of security and a mass breakout from Azkaban prison.

The breech of security happened when an army of around fifty vampires attacked the Aurors guarding the prison and gained access to the fortress, releasing several prisoners who have been convicted of being supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (called Death Eaters).

Some of the Death Eaters that escaped include Antonin Dolohov, who was sentenced to Azkaban previously for murdering Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Augustus Rookwood, who had been imprisoned before for espionage, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, who were convicted previously for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Judas Flint, who was convicted for the attack last August in Ottery St. Catchpole, and Lucius Malfoy, who was captured last June along with his fellow Death Eaters while infiltrating the Ministry of Magic. Each of them are highly dangerous and if spotted, do not approach them. Contact the Ministry immediately.

This latest breakout has only strengthened the doubts several witches and wizards now have for Cornelius Fudge’s capacity to lead. On the rumors arising that he will soon be leaving office, the Minister of Magic chose not to comment.

Ron frowned as Harry finished reading. “The world is in big trouble. You-Know-Who’s definitely got his army now.”

Harry frowned too, knowing Ron was right. The question was: what was Voldemort going to do with his army?

Author’s Note: Woohoo! I was able to get this chapter out before school begins tomorrow! I’m so happy about that. Thanks again to all you wonderful people who reviewed…this chapter happens to be one of my favorites, so I hope you enjoy. And, of course, a big thanks to my betas, Jessica and Nitya, for putting up with me.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE SOUL REAPER

Quidditch and the Azkaban breakout were the two most talked about subjects for the rest of the day. The Daily Prophet had done an article on the fourth page on all of Voldemort’s attacks to date, including details on the Death Eaters who were arrested and what damage had been done, starting with the infiltration of the Department of Mysteries last June. Harry had felt a lump in his throat rise as he read the article.

In Potions, Snape spent the whole time scowling at Harry as the class brewed a particular potion both Harry and Hermione knew rather well—the Polyjuice Potion. Hermione particularly breezed right through the beginning steps as she personally had made the potion back when she and Harry were in their second year so that they could turn themselves into Slytherins to interrogate Malfoy, whom at the time they had believed to be the Heir of Slytherin. Of course, Hermione, in the end, was foiled by her own potion when she added the wrong type of hair and had thus turned herself into a sort of cat-woman.

Malfoy took every chance he got to jeer at Harry. At one particular point, he threw a wad of parchment over onto Harry’s desk, which he promptly opened and read, “You’re going down Saturday, Potter.” Harry turned back to Malfoy and gave him a rather rude gesture, which was luckily not caught by Snape.

“Bastard,” he muttered and resumed making his potion.

In Charms, Professor Flitwick taught them how to perform a Confundus Charm, which Harry had been keen to learn since his fourth year, when the charm had been used to hoodwink the Goblet of Fire and let Harry enter the Triwizard Tournament. However, it was a very difficult spell. Harry tried to confuse Ron and make him believe he was a chicken, but he only got Ron to walk like one.

“Tonight for homework,” Professor Flitwick squeaked, “practice the Confundus Charm.”

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall continued to make them transform objects into animals. Again, everyone struggled, except for Hermione, who was finally able to turn all of her school books into many large, exotic birds. Harry managed to add a tail to the spotted table that he was still trying to transfigure into a Dalmatian.

After lunch, they walked out onto the cold grounds and over to the greenhouses for Herbology, where Professor Sprout was. She smiled as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs entered the greenhouse, shivering.

“Today we’re going to work on making a hybrid,” she announced. “Now this particular hybrid may just be the key ingredient to a developmental potion. So, first off, everyone get into a group of four.”

Neville slid over next to Ron. “Hey,” he said, “mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Hermione said, smiling.

“Once you have your group,” Professor Sprout called, “collect up two puffapods and four bubotubers. There are two large pots underneath your tables...nestle your puffapods into the pots. Then, collect the pus from your bubotubers and pour it around the puffapods. Within a few weeks time we’ll see what happens. It will be a nice experiment for all of us.”

Harry and Ron grabbed the bubotubers while Hermione and Neville grabbed the two puffapods they needed. Once they returned to their station, they took out two very large pots and started moving the dirt around inside of them so that the puffapods would be well placed. Once Neville smoothed out the nook they created, Ron gently placed the puffapod inside the pot, while Harry and Hermione worked on the other. Then they started to work on the bubotubers, pulling on their dragon hide gloves first.

“So,” Neville said quietly, “what do you think about the Azkaban breakout?”

“Honestly, I expected it,” Hermione said. “What I didn’t expect were the vampires to attack. I thought he would have sent the dementors; they’re following his orders now.”

Neville shuddered. “Vampires…”

“No, he wouldn’t send the dementors,” Harry murmured, squeezing pus out of a bubotuber.

They stared at him. “Why not?” Ron asked.

Harry blinked before looking up at their confused faces and replying, “Because the dementors can be driven away by a Patronus Charm, which the Aurors should be able to perform. Vampires require a bit of brute force and a good aim.”

Hermione frowned, but Ron said, “I bet you got that lot good, didn’t you Harry?”

Harry eyed Ron before quietly saying, “I only killed one.”

“One more than the rest of us,” Neville murmured. The four stood still for several moments, lost in their own thoughts.

It was Hermione who finally said, “Come on, let’s get back to work.”

*****

Rain started to fall as Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Quidditch team changed into their robes in the locker room for practice.

“Do you think it will rain Saturday?” Alex McGuire asked as he grabbed his Comet Two-Sixty.

“I hope not,” Ginny replied.

“Come on,” Harry said, grabbing his Firebolt and heading to the door. “Let’s try to make this quick so we all don’t come down with colds. The last thing any of us need is to take some Pepper-Up Potion and have steam blowing out of our ears for hours.” As a last thought, he pulled out his wand from his school robes and yanked off his glasses before tapping them with his wand and muttering, “Impervius.” Putting his glasses back on, he walked out of the locker room with his team following along behind him, staring up at the gray clouds and sighing to themselves. Harry hoped the fat raindrops would motivate them to perform flawlessly so they could all get inside faster than usual.

The wind howled as they took the field. Beside Harry, Hunter shivered slightly, but mounted his Nimbus Two-Thousand just the same. In fact, Hunter had never once complained about the weather or the Quidditch practices. He endured them, something that Harry admired.

“Let’s go!” he yelled, mounting his Firebolt and taking off.

An hour later, Harry ended practice due to the increased winds and for the fact that Ron had yelled to him when he passed by the goalposts, “Harry, I’m bloody numb!”

The team entered Gryffindor Tower, completely soaked and quite tired. Harry and Ron sank down into the chairs in front of the fireplace. “D’you think we’re ready for Saturday?” Ron asked.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, water flying as he did so. “Yeah, I think we’ve got a pretty good shot.”

“Those Mercury Silvers will be tough to beat.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “but I think we can do it.”

Hermione walked over to them, two blankets in her hands. “You’re both drenched. You lot are crazy, d’you know that?” She handed them both a blanket, which they gratefully accepted.

“It’s just a little rain, Hermione,” Ron said, wrapping himself up.

“Hopefully it’ll pass and we’ll have sunshine on Saturday,” Harry said.

But Ron laughed. “With our luck, mate, we’ll have hail.”

*****

The next morning, Harry and Ron got dressed and waited in the common room for Hermione to join them before heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Today will be our last practice,” Ron said as they traveled through the corridors.

Harry nodded, but it was Hermione who said, “You’ll do fine, all of you.”

Ron shot a glance over at Hermione. “Someone’s got some confidence in the team.”

“Well, with you and Harry running it, why shouldn’t I?” she shot back, a grin playing over her features.

Harry smiled at her, glad to know that she felt confident in his leadership abilities, but truth be told he was feeling more nervous about this match than any other match he had ever played in. The match would not just be a reflection of his Seeker abilities, but also how fit he was to be a captain.

Apparently something about him must have given him away because Hermione linked his hand with hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. And just as quickly as she did that, she let him go, although a small part of him for some odd reason wished she hadn’t.

Just as they were about to walk into the entrance hall, Harry heard a soft voice right behind him. “May I have a word with you, Harry?”

Harry jumped and spun around to see Professor Dumbledore standing right behind him. “Professor Dumbledore,” he said in surprise.

“Good morning, Harry,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I would like to have a word alone with Harry, if you’d please.”

“Certainly,” Hermione said and grabbed Ron by the sleeve, pulling him into the entrance hall and down the marble staircase.

“See you later, Harry!” Ron called.

Harry waved and turned to Professor Dumbledore. “Follow me, please,” he said to Harry and started back up the stairs.

He led him up another flight of stairs and down a corridor to a deserted classroom. When he opened the door, he motioned for Harry to go inside.

“What is it, Professor?” Harry asked when Dumbledore closed the door.

Dumbledore turned to him, a very grave look on his face. “Harry, I must know—did you have a dream the night Azkaban was attacked. Were you inside Voldemort’s mind at all that night?”

Harry frowned. “Briefly,” he replied honestly. “I was with him when he gave Wormtail the order to proceed, but I didn’t know what they were talking about. Then I woke up and just as quickly fell back asleep again. I should have tried to warn you—”

“It would have made very little difference,” Dumbledore said. “Harry, you must continue your Occlumency lessons from last year. I would like you to come to my office after your Defense Against the Dark Arts class on Monday and also after your Care of Magical Creatures class on Wednesday. We cannot leave your mind open to Voldemort.”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

“Now, has any other strange occurrences been happening to you? Anything at all?” he asked.

“Er…” Harry wondered whether or not he should tell him about the time on the train, or in the entrance hall, or out on the Quidditch pitch. Part of him didn’t want to, but his curiosity got the better of him. “I’ve been able to do these things…”

“What sort of things?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, I’ve been able to perform magic—without a wand—at the exact moment I utter a spell,” Harry explained.

“Ah, really? And just what led to these cases?” he asked.

“Er…” Now that was something Harry didn’t want to explain. He looked down at his feet and mumbled, “Malfoy.”

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps he just caused a reaction in you. Wandless magic, while rare, does happen when one is very angry or hurt…”

“But at the same exact moment I was saying the incantation to a spell?” Harry asked. “I mean, the first time I thought I had his wand in my hand and it turns out I didn’t. The second time I just mentioned the spell I would have liked to use on him and poof! It happened. The third time I just wanted everyone to shut up and I said the spell I wanted to use and it happened.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, studying Harry closely. Then he murmured, “Come to me immediately if it happens again. I will see you Monday.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. Good day, sir.”

Harry exited the classroom and ran down to the Great Hall at top speed so he wouldn’t miss the rest of breakfast. For some odd reason he had really gotten hungry.

He sat down next to Ron and pulled his plate towards him, which had already been dished up with sausage links and biscuits with gravy. “Who—”

“I did,” Hermione said, before taking a drink of her pumpkin juice.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully and tucked in.

“So what did Dumbledore want?” Ron asked, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth.

“Just to ask me a question,” Harry replied, cutting a sausage link in half with his fork.

“A question?” Ron said with a quizzical look.

“He wanted to know if I had seen anything the night of the breakout,” Harry whispered.

“And did you?” Hermione asked, leaning forward.

“A little snippet really,” Harry replied. “I had no idea what was going on.”

Hermione looked extremely worried. “Harry, you—”

“You get the weirdest dreams,” Ron interrupted.

Harry frowned. “You have no idea.”

At that moment, hundreds of owls swooped down into the Great Hall, delivering letters and packages. Harry didn’t expect anything; he no longer had someone to write to. Hermione, however, received her usual copy of the Daily Prophet and then suddenly, her new owl, Giles, dropped a scroll of parchment right in front of her before flying up to the Owlery.

“What’s that you got there, Hermione?” Ron asked, munching on a piece of toast.

Hermione took out her wand and tapped a small seal on the scroll, breaking it, before opening it and beginning to read.

“It’s a letter from Viktor,” she said, smiling.

Ron scowled. “Vicky?”

Hermione glared at him and began to read. As she made her way down the scroll, her smile began to fade and a sad look entered her eyes.

“Hermione?” Harry asked gently.

She rolled the scroll back up and shut her eyes. When she opened them, they looked as though they were on fire.

“So what does Vicky have to say?” Ron asked, poking his food furiously.

“Nothing important,” Hermione muttered, setting the scroll aside with more force than necessary.

Ron glanced at Harry, who was eyeing Hermione, and then lunged for the scroll.

“Ron!” Hermione yelled. She snatched the scroll back and gave him a scathing look.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry asked her. “What does the letter say?”

Hermione’s face contorted slightly and she thrust the scroll at him. “I’m going to go get ready for class,” she said, jumping up and stalking away.

Ron smirked. “What did he do to piss her off?” he wondered and leaned closer to Harry as he opened the scroll to read.

Dear Hermione,

I am sorry I was not able to send you a letter for your birthday. Work is very stressful and I do not have a lot of time for socializing or sending letters unless it is business related. I am sure you understand. But a very happy belated birthday to you. I wish I could have been there.

I still wonder what would have happened had you been able to visit me during the summer a year ago. Perhaps these letters would not have been needed and you and I would have been together. But the truth is you did not come and we are not together. I know your heart does not belong to me.

Accepting that, I am focusing solely on my work, as I have already said. Doing what I do is very important and rather dangerous. I cannot really discuss it, but I hope your thoughts are with me.

Because I am truly focusing on my work, I am afraid that I will not be answering any more personal letters. I hate to break off such a wonderful relationship, but I must do what I must do. Perhaps one day we will see each other again.

If I ever have time I will write to you to see how you are doing, but I doubt I ever will. Traveling alone takes up so much of my time. I am very sorry.

Do not forget me, Hermione.

Love,

Viktor

“I can see why she’s mad,” Ron groused. “Selfish bastard, isn’t he?”

“Very,” Harry agreed and glanced down at his watch. “Come on, we’ll be late to class if we don’t get moving.” He rolled up the scroll and got up.

“If I ever see him again I swear I’ll—” Ron made a punching gesture. Quite honestly, Harry couldn’t blame him.

*****

When Harry woke up the next morning, he felt like someone had set one hundred butterflies loose in his stomach. As he got dressed, he noticed Ron had a rather pale look to his face.

When they entered the common room, they noticed Hermione and Ginny sitting on one of the sofas, talking in low whispers. Harry noticed that Ginny was tapping her foot nonstop. Nerves, Harry realized.

Hermione looked up and smiled brightly when Harry and Ron entered the room. “Good morning,” she said. “Have you taken a look outside? There are just a few clouds but mostly sun. You should have some excellent playing conditions today. How are you feeling?” she added, looking at both of them.

“Peachy,” Ron grumbled.

The dormitory door opened again and Hunter stepped out with Dylan.

“Aw, it’s going to be great!” Dylan was saying to Hunter. “Ally, Laura, and I will be there watching. We can’t wait to see you play.”

“’Morning Hunter,” Harry said, after seeing Hunter pale significantly. “Good morning Dylan.”

“’Morning Harry,” they both said.

Hermione looked as though she were trying to bite back a laugh. “Are you ready for today’s match, Hunter?” she asked.

He looked up at her and Harry saw one thing in his gray eyes: fear. But he nodded just the same.

“We had better get downstairs and get some breakfast,” Harry murmured.

They traveled silently down to the Great Hall, where the Gryffindors who were already there clapped and cheered them. The Slytherins hissed as they passed their table.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of their entourage sat down near Katie, Alex, and Andrew, who had already started on their meals. Katie looked rather calm, but Alex and Andrew were eating rather slowly, glancing around at everyone and everything.

“Well, eat up everyone,” Harry said as he grabbed a piece of toast and started to butter it. “We’ll need our strength for today.”

“Harry! Hey Harry!” yelled a familiar voice, causing Harry to groan.

Colin Creevey ran up to Harry with a huge smile plastered on his face. “Guess what, Harry, guess what!”

“What?” Harry asked.

“McGonagall just asked me if I’d like to be the commentator for today’s match. Can you believe it? I’m going to announce today’s match!” Colin gushed.

“Er—congratulations, Colin,” Harry mumbled.

Hermione smiled at him. “I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.”

Colin beamed. “Well, I’ve got to go! I’ve got to get ready!” At that, he sprinted back out of the Great Hall.

“Hyper kid,” Ron muttered and shoved a piece of toast into his mouth.

Suddenly there was a loud roar and all of them jumped and turned around to see Luna Lovegood enter the Great Hall with her large lion hat perched atop her head.

“Oh bloody hell,” Ron groaned, “not that thing again!”

Then, to Ron’s obvious horror, she walked directly over to the Gryffindor table. “Hello,” she said, gazing at the Gryffindor team as they ogled the large hat on her head.

“Hi Luna,” Ginny said, smiling gently. “Supporting us, are you?”

“Oh, yes,” Luna replied vaguely. “I just wanted to wish everyone good luck. Good luck, Ronald.”

Ron blushed and shrunk down lower into his seat as Luna walked away, heading towards the Ravenclaw table. Ginny snickered.

“It would figure only a loon would ever fancy you, Weasley,” said a drawling voice behind them.

Each member of the Gryffindor team turned around and faced Malfoy, who was standing in front of Crabbe, Goyle, and two boys Harry didn’t recognize. Probably the two new Chasers, he figured.

Hermione stood up and faced him. “Go away, Malfoy, and save your insults for later.”

He sneered. “Don’t worry, Mudblood, I’ve have plenty of insults before, during, and after the match.”

“Wonderful,” Hermione said sarcastically. “But I wouldn’t start now. After all, you’re hopelessly outnumbered currently.”

His sneer turned into a scowl. “We’ll see who outnumbers who in the match,” he snapped and turned on his heal.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down. “Be careful today, okay?” she said to the team. “Slytherin’s out for blood today. Remember, for the past five years, Slytherin has lost every match against Gryffindor. Hopefully today you’ll make it number six.”

Harry grinned, although his butterflies remained. “Don’t worry, we’ll do our best.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Besides, we’ve got Harry if all else fails.”

“Gee, thanks, Ron,” Harry mumbled.

“Nice way to put the pressure on, Ron,” Ginny muttered.

“Hey, he’s never failed us before, unless you count that one time with the dementors,” Ron added as an afterthought.

Ginny shook her head. “Ron, now would be a good time to shut up, okay?”

At that, Ron went silent.

*****

Around eleven o’clock, the Gryffindor team changed in the locker room. Each of them looked rather nervous and Harry didn’t blame them. His butterflies had at least quadrupled.

He gave a shaky smile to his team as they finished changing. “I guess the only thing I can say is that the odds are against us. They’ve got better, faster brooms, but I think we’ve got a really good chance. We’ve got one thing they haven’t got and that’s talent. So—er—just try your best and we should get the outcome we’re looking for.”

He pulled open the door and stepped out to the cheering crowd. One by one they stepped onto the field, Colin announcing their names as they entered.

“And here comes the Gryffindor team—Bell, Farrell, Weasley, Weasley, Kirke, McGuire, and the captain and Seeker, Harry Potter!”

Three-fourths of the crowd cheered wildly as the team made their way to the middle of the pitch where Madam Hooch and the Slytherin team were already standing. Malfoy showed off his Mercury Silver.

“Scared, Potter?”

“Not in the slightest,” Harry replied as Madam Hooch stepped forward.

“Captains, shake hands,” she said and Montague took Harry’s hand, trying to crush it with all his might. Harry only gave him a grin.

Fourteen players mounted their brooms and waited for Madam Hooch’s whistle. “Keep it clean,” she ordered and suddenly blew her whistle.

Harry and thirteen other players kicked off hard from the ground and soared up high. Harry felt the cold air rush past him and watched as the Quaffle was released, beginning the match. He only hoped he could find the Snitch quickly; he didn’t want to let what was his team’s only chance at winning to fly away.

He started to circle the pitch, eyeing everything closely. He thought he saw something gold in the stands, but it turned out to be a chain that Joaquin Crow was wearing. He watched Harry closely and waved. Harry gave a slight wave back and continued on, searching and listening to Colin’s commentary all the way.

“Slytherin Chaser Malcolm Rich has the Quaffle and passes it to—no, it’s been intercepted by Gryffindor Chaser Hunter Farrell!”

Harry grinned as the crowd cheered, but then cringed when he saw a Bludger barely miss Hunter.

“Ooh, and Slytherin Beater Goyle nearly kills Farrell with a Bludger,” Colin announced, “but he holds on and passes it to Chaser Ginny Weasley. Weasley heads for the goals…NO! Stolen by a much faster Montague, who is the captain of the Slytherin team. Montague passes to Julius Blitz, who is another new addition to the Slytherin team along with Rich. Blitz to Rich—Rich to Blitz—they’re approaching the goalposts—”

“Come on, Ron!” Harry whispered.

“SCORE!” Colin roared and Harry groaned along with three-fourths of the crowd. “Blitz gets it past Keeper Ron Weasley for a goal. Ten points to Slytherin. So possession returns to Gryffindor…”

Harry flew around, circling the pitch, searching. As he flew past the Gryffindor goals he shouted, “That’s okay, Ron. You’ll get them next time!”

“Bell has the Quaffle and she’s taking it up the pitch—passes to Weasley, who dodges a Bludger sent by Crabbe. Weasley passes to Farrell, who’s flying high and—OUCH! He got slammed by Montague! The Quaffle is picked up by Rich who passes it immediately to Blitz. Blitz with the Quaffle—passes to Montague, who dives underneath Weasley and—SCORE! That’s twenty to nothing, Slytherin!”

Malfoy flew past Harry, smirking. Suddenly, a familiar chorus erupted from the Slytherin side of the stadium.

WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING,

HE CANNOT BLOCK A SINGLE RING,

THAT’S WHY ALL SLYTHERINS SING:

WEASLEY IS OUR KING!

From his position on the field, Harry could see Ron turn a bright red. He threw the Quaffle to Katie with probably more force than necessary and glanced at the Slytherin crowd, glowering.

“Calm down, Ron!” Harry shouted as he passed and he saw Ron close his eyes and breathe deeply.

“Bell to Farrell—Farrell passes to Weasley—BLUDGER! Ah, Beater McGuire got to it in time. Anyway, Weasley with the Quaffle—nice dive under Rich! She passes it to Farrell who…SCORES! Hunter Farrell scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!”

The crowd cheered and Harry heard Luna’s lion hat roar. He shook his head and continued on.

“So possession is back to Slytherin now. Blitz passes it to Rich. Rich soars right past Beaters McGuire and Kirke. He might score…NO! WEASLEY SAVES IT!”

The crowd cheered once more. Ron sighed and tossed the ball to Ginny.

“Move! Move!” Montague screamed at Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry swung around.

“Weasley with the Quaffle—Oi! Look out!” Colin yelled. Ginny turned just in time to get smacked right in the side of the face by a Bludger.

“Alex!” Harry yelled as McGuire flew underneath him. “Get that Bludger!”

Alex gave him a small salute and tore off after it.

“Slytherin has possession again. Montague dives under a Bludger sent by Beater McGuire, dodges oncoming Chaser Farrell—OH NO! WEASLEY!”

Harry turned and saw it—Ginny, apparently rather disoriented, had fallen from her broom. He landed flat on the handle and belted off, hoping against hope that he would reach her in time.

Flying directly underneath her falling form, he reached up and—UMMPH! She fell safely into his arms.

“You okay?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “Just got a little lightheaded—I’m fine now. Thanks, Harry.”

“It was nothing,” he said and, holding out his hand, he caught her falling broom. “Here.”

She swung her leg over and mounted her broom in midair, flying off just as Montague threw the Quaffle in for another ten points.

“Damn,” Harry muttered and flew off again.

“So now it’s thirty to ten, Slytherin and did you all see that amazing catch by Harry Potter, rescuing Ginny Weasley? Wow…”

“Nice one, Harry!” Katie yelled as she flew past him, flying next to Hunter, who had the Quaffle.

“Farrell with the Quaffle—passes it to Bell—STOLEN! Montague steals the Quaffle and heads back to the Gryffindor end…”

“Come on, Ron,” Harry murmured.

But no, Montague scored, making the score forty to ten. Harry sighed and continued his search.

“Farrell with the Quaffle—dodges a Bludger—passes to Bell, who dives underneath Blitz—only the Slytherin Keeper Bletchley now, who is in his final year here at Hogwarts. Bell twists—SCORE! GRYFFINDOR SCORES!”

The crowd cheered. Harry himself smiled, but it was immediately wiped away when Rich threw the Quaffle into Ron’s left hoop, causing the Slytherins to roar with approval.

“So it’s fifty to twenty now, Slytherin and there is no sign of the Snitch currently,” Colin announced. “Bell with the Quaffle—here comes Blitz to steal—she dives! She edges closer to the goals…I think she’s going to shoot—NO! SHE PASSES TO WEASLEY WHO…SCORES! FIFTY TO THIRTY!”

Suddenly, Harry saw it: the Golden Snitch. It was fluttering towards the right Slytherin goalpost. Harry dived for it—and so did Malfoy. At its current position, it favored Malfoy, but it suddenly sped off down the field—Harry and Malfoy adjusted to chase it. The Snitch rose higher and higher into the air as it went and Harry heard the crowd scream, although he didn’t know why. He was so focused on the Snitch that he did not notice the sky turn an ugly black above him.

“Come on,” he growled, putting on an extra burst of speed. He reached out with his right hand and reached, Malfoy doing the same…

But it was Harry’s hand that closed itself around the Snitch.

“YES!” he shouted and held his hand up high in triumph, but there were no cheers, there wasn’t even a whistle to signal the end of the match.

Harry swung around, wondering what was going on, when he finally noticed the black sky and the purple swirl within it.

Malfoy turned around and stared at it too. “Merlin,” he whispered in awe as he watched it. “A Soul Reaper.”

“A what?” Harry asked as suddenly, a bright ball of light shot out from the purple swirl, causing the crowd to scream.

He looked down and around. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Kingsley were staring up at it, talking furiously. Crow was standing near the entrance to the stadium, also staring up at it. Just then, Frost ran up the stairs and entered the stadium, watching the bright light closely.

The bright light was coming closer and closer. Everyone had stopped playing to watch it.

“Damn, it’s coming this way!” Malfoy yelled and flew off, heading towards the ground.

Harry realized Malfoy was right and flew away, watching the light over his shoulder. But as he did he noticed something; it seemed to be changing its course to follow him.

“Bloody hell!” he muttered and flew faster, swerving, but the light followed him and—if possible—seemed to be catching him. The Quidditch players scattered as he flew past them.

But he couldn’t outrun it. The light got closer and closer to him until he could see it was touching the hem of his Quidditch robes, and before he could turn away from it, it passed right through him.

He screamed in agony. It felt as though something had been ripped right out of him and he felt rather dizzy. As he watched the light leave, he saw that it was brighter than ever. Then another wave of dizziness hit him, followed up by blackness, and he knew no more.

Author’s Note: Sorry about the cliffhanger last time everyone…I know that was a horrible way to leave you all hanging when I didn’t know how long it would take for this chapter to come out. I want to thank you all for your patience and I beg for you all to give me some more of that over the upcoming months. College is a busy time, as those who are in college right now know. Big thanks to Nitya and Kalie for betaing this chapter for me…gotta love those two. *huggles* Anyway, I won’t keep you all waiting any longer. Go ahead and find out what happened to Harry.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE QUEST FOR UNITY

Eight days later, Harry’s eyes fluttered open and he found himself looking up at a blurry form with a mass of bushy brown hair.

“Hermione?” he croaked.

“Oh, thank God!” she sighed in relief. “You’re awake!”

He blinked, wondering why everything was so out of focus, when he realized he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Er…”

“Here,” Hermione said, holding out a black blur that Harry recognized to be his glasses.

He accepted them gratefully and put them on. “Thanks,” he murmured and looked around. He was in the hospital wing, completely alone except for Hermione, who was sitting on the edge of his bed looking rather anxious. “Er—what happened? What was that thing that passed through me?”

Before she could answer, Ron entered carrying a stack of sandwiches. “This is all I could nick from the kitchens…” he trailed off as his eyes rested on Harry and his face broke out into a grin. “Hey, you’re awake!”

“Yeah,” he murmured as Ron handed Hermione over a sandwich. “Did you two miss dinner or something?”

“Have been for the last eight days,” Ron replied, settling down into a chair next to Harry’s bed before taking a bite of the sandwich he brought himself. “Hermione absolutely refused to leave your bedside for anything except for class. Madam Pomfrey thinks she’s nutty.” Hermione looked down at her sandwich and turned a bright red while Ron continued. “I’ve been here most of the time too, although I ran a practice on Friday. At first we didn’t know if we should because you were gone and all, but I figured you’d want us to still practice. Ginny and Katie thought so too, so…” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m glad you did,” Harry replied and eyed one of the sandwiches. He was terribly hungry—who wouldn’t be, after eight days?

“Here, Harry,” Hermione said, handing him a sandwich. “You must be hungry.”

“Thanks,” he murmured and took a bite, savoring it. “So, what was that thing?” he asked again after he swallowed.

Hermione looked grim. “It’s called a Soul Reaper—powerful dark magic; very ancient too. It hasn’t been seen since the defeat of Grindelwald, and very few know the counter curse. The only reason why you’re alive, Harry, is because Dumbledore is one of the few people who do know, which is no surprise because he defeated Grindelwald, didn’t he? He made sure you landed safely on the ground and then performed probably the most complicated spell I’ve ever seen—”

“—this weird purple light covered you when he did—”

“—and then Dumbledore conjured up a stretcher, assuring Ron and I that you were going to be alright,” Hermione finished.

Harry stared at both of them. “And what does a Soul Reaper actually do?” he asked.

Hermione stared down at her feet. “It takes away your soul,” she whispered. “You aren’t alive and yet you aren’t dead. It’s like you’re trapped in limbo for eternity.”

Ron shuddered. “I think I’d rather have the Killing Curse performed on me than that.”

“Harry, we heard Dumbledore speaking to McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape. He wondered if you had seen anything the night before the Quidditch match. Did you have any dreams…about Voldemort?” Hermione asked and Ron shuddered again.

Harry shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

Hermione frowned. “Who did this to you, Harry?”

Harry sighed and frowned too. “I don’t know, but ten Galleons says that whoever sent that Soul Reaper after me also killed June Winters.”

*****

Madam Pomfrey kicked Ron and Hermione out an hour later, which was fine because they both looked rather weary. Apparently, they had stayed very late every night in the hospital wing and returned at the earliest hour possible. Harry couldn’t help but smile at their devotion.

Now Harry laid alone in the hospital wing, thinking about the events eight days prior. Ron had assured Harry that right after the Soul Reaper passed through him, Madam Hooch finally noticed he had caught the Snitch and ended the match, Gryffindor winning 180 to 50.

But that was not what plagued his mind the most. He wanted to know who could have possibly conjured up such a dark force without Dumbledore knowing. Was the Headmaster and possibly the greatest wizard in the world losing his touch? Or was the attacker that clever and sneaky?

Who could it possibly be? That thought echoed in his head until he fell asleep…

He was running down a corridor, a corridor in the dungeons he recognized, and he was being chased. Sparing a glance behind him, he saw it was a dementor. Quickly as he could, he fumbled around in his robes, searching for his wand. When he found it, he turned and faced the dementor, shouting, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” but it had no effect.

Terrified, Harry turn and ran again. As it charged for him, he dived and rolled on the floor, dodging it. Suddenly, the dementor changed shape and it turned into Sirius. He looked down at Harry and smiled. “Up you get now, Harry. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said, striding over to where Harry laid sprawled on the floor. He held out his hand to help him up with a smile, and that was when Harry noticed his eyes, his bright red eyes.

“No!” Harry cried and jumped up, running. But suddenly he found himself face-to-face with his mother and father, who were also smiling.

“Don’t be afraid, Harry,” his father said and his eyes flashed red momentarily.

Harry backed away, shaking his head. “Y-you’re not my father!” he yelled and felt himself hit something hard. Turning around, he saw Sirius, who grabbed him around the waist.

“Harry,” his mother said gently, walking forward, “it’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid of death.” Her eyes turned from their bright green to red. “After all, you’ll be with us, the people you killed.”

Sirius slammed Harry against a wall and released him, his wand pointed at him. James and Lily followed suit.

“You’ll be with us for eternity,” James said. “And we can remind you every day how we died.”

Sirius smirked and waved his wand. “Avada Kedavra!” But instead of green light pouring from the tip of his wand, the bright light of the Soul Reaper appeared and swallowed him whole…

Harry awoke and sat straight up, a cold sweat covering him. It’s just a dream…it’s just a dream…he told himself over and over again. It was just all of his previous nightmares about his parents and Sirius coming back to haunt him, mixed in with his new anxiety concerning the Soul Reaper, that was all. He shouldn’t worry about it.

And I won’t, he thought, taking a steadying breath. He grabbed a glass of water off the nightstand by his bed and drank it dry. Then, lying back, he closed his eyes, although sleep would not find him until long after.

*****

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey released him, as he was feeling absolutely fine. He changed into a set of school robes Ron had brought down for him and headed off to the Great Hall for the last ten minutes of breakfast.

Ron and Hermione were talking quietly when Harry reached the table. “Hey,” he said, “what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Ron muttered, looking very annoyed.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “We have a prefect meeting on the third. Ron here was just expressing his displeasure.”

“It’s a Monday night,” Ron complained. “Who wants to do anything on a Monday night?”

“Ron, grow up and act responsible for a change!” Hermione snapped and got up, leaving Harry and Ron behind, gaping at her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Harry wondered.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s that time of the month,” Ron replied.

“Or maybe you’re acting like a great prat,” Ginny said, sliding down and taking Hermione’s seat. “She’s right, y’know; griping just because you’ve got a meeting on a Monday. Just be grateful it’s not a night when we have Quidditch practice, although I’m starting to think that’s a bad idea.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

Ginny have him a patient look. “Well, as you’ve been out for over a week, you’ve no idea how cold it is outside. It’s frigid, and it’s only the end of November! Saturday poor Alex couldn’t feel his toes after practice. I think it’s time to let it go until January at least. Besides, Christmas is coming.”

Ron stared at her in disbelief. “Have you gone mad? We’ve got to practice or else we’ll get rusty.”

“Ron, you do realize that you sound as obsessed as that bloke Wood, right?” Ginny said with a smirk.

“Tomorrow,” Harry said, finishing off his meal. “We’ll see what happens tomorrow. If it’s bad, we’ll wait out the cold weather, deal?”

Ginny nodded and smiled. “See,” she said to Ron, “now that’s a captain right there.”

Ron scowled as she got up and left. “She’s on her high-horse now,” he muttered and looked down at his watch. “Come on, Harry, let’s get to class.”

*****

Later on, after dinner, he walked slowly up to Dumbledore’s office. Granted, he was a week late, but that couldn’t be helped considering he had been unconscious. So one week later, he gave the password to the stone gargoyle and let the spiral staircase take him up to the door to Dumbledore’s office. He knocked quietly.

“Come in, Harry,” came Dumbledore’s voice from beyond the door.

Harry walked in and noticed all of the portraits on the wall immediately close their eyes and begin to feign sleep. Harry shook his head bemusedly and walked up to Dumbledore’s desk. “I’m—er—here for my lessons,” he said lamely.

Dumbledore smiled. “Yes, I figured you might be and I am very pleased about that. I know how much you dislike Occlumency.”

Harry frowned. “To be frank, Professor, it was the teacher I disliked more than anything.”

He chuckled softly. “Yes. Please forgive me for having Professor Snape teach you last year. It was a rather ill conceived thought in a year filled with many mistakes. Hopefully those days are behind us.”

“Just don’t make me go back to Professor Snape and all is forgiven,” he said with a smirk.

Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Deal,” he said. “And now, to work.” He walked in front of his desk and in front of Harry. “Remember,” he said, “clear away any emotions you have and relax.”

Harry tried his best to relax and to let all of his emotions—his anxiety—melt away into utter calm. He sighed and looked back up at Dumbledore.

“Ready?” Harry nodded. “Very well, on the count of three….one—two—three—Legilimens!”

Dumbledore’s office swam in front of his eyes and vanished as image after image raced through his mind; he was crossing the lake before entering Hogwarts for the first time…playing wizard’s chess with Ron in the common room…Hermione giving him a kiss on the cheek at the end of their fourth year…Sirius falling back through the veil…

“NO!” he screamed as he fell to the floor.

“It’s alright Harry,” Dumbledore said, grabbing Harry by the elbow and pulling him back up. “You appear to be out of practice.”

Harry frowned. “I never had much to begin with,” he said darkly.

Dumbledore frowned too. “Let us try again, shall we?”

Harry nodded and readied himself, taking a deep breath and trying to purge all of the emotions from himself.

“Very well then….one—two—three—Legilimens!” Dumbledore said.

He was in his first Quidditch match, chasing after the Snitch…he was on his disastrous date with Cho Chang on Valentine’s Day the year before…he was on the train, fighting with Malfoy, grabbing what he believed to be Malfoy’s wand…

“Expelliarmus!” he shouted and suddenly he was free. Dumbledore’s wand clattered to the floor.

“Very good, Harry, very good,” he said with a smile. “And I see what you mean about being able to do magic without a wand preciously when saying the incantation to a spell. This is a very interesting development indeed.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “Why can I do it?”

Dumbledore turned and paced for a few moments, deep in thought. Then he turned back to Harry and said, “I have a hypothesis, Harry. When Voldemort tried to kill you and he transferred some of his powers to you, such as the ability to speak Parseltongue, he must have advanced your magical capabilities. You are most definitely not an ordinary wizard, Harry.”

“Does Voldemort have these powers too?” Harry asked.

“No, he does not, which makes my hypothesis highly unbelievable. Including you now, there have been only three wizards in this century alone who have had those particular abilities—true sorcery,” Dumbledore explained.

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Besides yourself, they would be the dark wizard Grindelwald and…myself.”

“You?”

“Yes,” he replied, a bemused look in his eyes.

“Wow.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “It is not a common gift. Most wizards need a catalyst for their magic, thus the wand. But true sorcerers do not. They can command magic at their will.”

“So you mean I can perform any spell I want by just saying the incantation?”

Dumbledore smiled. “With time and training, you won’t need to say anything at all.”

*****

After the lesson, Harry walked back up towards the common room, his mind racing. He had powers, powers that Voldemort did not have. Suddenly a voice echoed though his mind.

“But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…”

Was this it? Was this really the power that Voldemort knew not of? Harry couldn’t believe it. He was so absorbed in whether or not it could be true that he walked right into Professor Lupin.

“Careful, Harry,” Lupin said.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry muttered sheepishly.

He grinned. “What has you so preoccupied?”

“Er—my Occlumency lesson with Professor Dumbledore,” Harry replied.

“Ah,” Lupin murmured with a nod. “Be vigilant with that, okay Harry? It will be good for us all in the end.”

Harry frowned and he suddenly thought of something. “Professor, does The Phoenix mean anything to you?”

The grin on Lupin’s face disappeared. “The Phoenix? How did you find out about—”

“I found the blueprints in Sirius’s vault awhile ago,” Harry told him. “Was it the Marauders’ next great feat?”

Lupin studied him closely. “Yes, it was. We started it about two months before your mother and father went into hiding with you. James and Sirius were in charge of drafting up the blueprints and I was in charge of researching all of the spells required for it. Peter would be our gopher. Harry—you’re not planning on making it, are you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, not meeting Lupin’s eyes.

“It’s dangerous Harry,” Lupin said. “The spells alone are very dodgy.”

“So?” Harry said. “I think my dad would be proud if I made that boom, as would Sirius.”

“Sirius was always rather reckless,” Lupin interjected.

“And I’m sure back then you were just as reckless,” Harry snapped back before he could stop himself.

Lupin sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But Harry, as a teacher I cannot condone this course of action.”

“Then as a friend of not only Sirius and my dad, but me too, and as a Marauder, help me, please,” Harry beseeched.

Lupin looked away, deep in thought. He paced for a few moments and then, turning back to Harry, he said, “Well, I reckon no one would know, right?”

Harry nodded. “If I’m caught I will deny your involvement.”

Lupin chuckled. “You’re James Potter’s son! You won’t be caught. I will have the list of spells for you at the end of class on Friday.”

Harry grinned. “Thank you, Professor!”

“Now go, before Filch catches you for something,” Lupin said with a grin, walking off in the opposite direction.

*****

The next afternoon found the Gryffindor team out on the pitch in the freezing cold weather. Harry shivered as he flew around on his Firebolt, watching the rest of the team as they practiced. When Ginny dropped the Quaffle, he shook his head and flew down to the Chasers.

“What’s wrong?” he asked them.

“My fingers are frozen,” Ginny said.

“I think my ears are frostbitten,” Katie said, touching them gingerly.

Harry turned to the youngest of them all. “How about you, Hunter?”

“Honestly Harry, I can’t feel my arse,” he said and all of them chuckled.

“Alright, fine. That’s enough.” He turned and motioned for Ron and the Beaters to join them as they all flew towards the ground.

“What’s up?” Ron asked anxiously.

“I’m not going to have you all turn into ice cubes,” Harry said. “We’re done for today—back to the locker rooms.”

“What!” Ron exclaimed as the others gratefully walked off. “Harry, have you gone mad?”

“We can’t practice under these conditions, Ron,” Harry said. “Come on, let’s go change and warm up by the common room fire.”

“But...but…but…” He slumped his shoulders and followed after the rest of the team.

Once in the common room, however, Ron slouched down into a chair and stared at Harry for a few moments before saying, “We didn’t have to quit. Everyone was fine.”

“No they weren’t,” Harry said. “Your own sister couldn’t feel her fingers. I bet anything that if she goes down to the hospital wing she’ll receive some Pepper-Up Potion.”

“She’s a tough girl,” Ron murmured.

“Katie was frostbitten!” Harry exclaimed. “Will you stop worrying about the damn Cup and worry more about your teammates?”

Ron glared at him. “I do care about them, but I also care about the glory of Gryffindor.”

“More the glory of yourself,” Harry muttered without realizing it.

Ron’s ears turned a bright red. “Me? The Quidditch team isn’t about me! It’s about you, the star Seeker. That’s why you’re captain.”

“I am not the captain because I’m famous,” Harry said furiously. “I don’t even like the fame, you know that!”

“I’m surprised you aren’t a prefect, considering Dumbledore,” Ron said, his entire face red now.

“I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE!” Harry bellowed and then realized what he had just said.

The color drained out of Ron’s cheeks. “What?” he croaked.

“Nothing,” Harry murmured and turned, heading to the portrait hole and out, needing to leave.

He walked around in the corridors, furious with Ron and with himself. Ron was turning into a fanatic and he was sick of it. But he knew that he shouldn’t have said the things he did. He didn’t want Ron to know that he, Harry, had been Dumbledore’s first choice for prefect. It would take away the light from Ron on the only thing he was that Harry was not.

Harry kicked the wall, hard. How could he have been so stupid as to blurt that out? He gritted his teeth and growled in frustration. He needed someplace quiet so he could be alone, but where?

He continued to walk, wondering where he could find a room that would give him some solitude. And suddenly, just as he passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, a door appeared on the opposite wall. He stared at it blankly for a moment before realization dawned on him; he had just summoned the Room of Requirement.

Stepping forward, he cautiously opened the door and peered inside. It was a small room this time around, with a winged armchair and a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace. Harry entered and sat down gratefully, letting the events of the past couple of days sink in. And he stayed there like that for hours.

*****

Harry and Ron didn’t speak often to each other over the next few days. Hermione was simply furious with both of them, calling their silence immaturity and their differences petty. Harry knew that she was right and that he ought to apologize to Ron about the argument, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, because he didn’t want to have to face the fact that Ron knew that Dumbledore had preferred Harry over Ron for the position of prefect.

After a particularly interesting Dark Arts class involving an occamy on Friday, Harry hung back after class, telling Ron and Hermione that he would catch up later, and waited for Professor Lupin.

Lupin emerged from his office with a slip of parchment in his hand. “Here it is, Harry,” he said, handing the slip over. “I even did a little more research and found a better Braking Charm, like the one on your Firebolt. And I also wrote down how to enhance the Acceleration Charm. I don’t know what you’ll manage to make the top speed on it, but Sirius, James, and I believed that at the time, it would be as fast as what the Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones are. Perhaps with that enhancement it will match your Firebolt’s.”

“Great,” Harry said, glancing down at the list. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, but do you even know where you’re going to build this thing?” Lupin asked.

Harry had already thought of this and only one place seemed appropriate to him. “Yes, sir; I have an idea.”

Lupin nodded. “Good. Well, best of luck to you then, Harry.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry replied and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Harry?” He turned back to look at Professor Lupin. “You’ll let me have a go on it when you’re done, right?”

He grinned. “Absolutely, Professor.”

*****

The weekend came and went and on Monday evening, Ron and Hermione went off to their prefects’ meeting. As Ron passed him on his way out, he gave Harry a rather furtive look before pushing open the portrait and waiting for Hermione.

“We’ll see you soon, Harry,” she told him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze and then following Ron out.

Suddenly, Hunter, Dylan Brown, and Ally Warrick plopped down next to Harry on the sofa he was sitting on. “Hey Harry!” Dylan said. “We’ve got a question for you that we didn’t think we should ask Ron or Hermione considering they’re prefects and all—are there any secret passageways around Hogwarts that we can use so Filch doesn’t catch us? I’ve heard talk that Fred and George Weasley knew a bunch and we’d like to try them.”

Harry looked over at Hunter and Ally—Hunter looked a little worried and Ally was looking at Dylan disdainfully. “Why do you want to know?” he asked Dylan.

“Just wondering,” Dylan said with a grin.

“No you’re not!” Ally said sharply before turning to Harry. “He’s trying to figure out a way to get back at this Slytherin bloke named Underwood.”

“What for?” Harry asked.

“He and this other boy named Deveaux managed to get me into some trouble with Snape,” Dylan replied darkly.

“He has detention,” Ally said.

“I’m sure Fred and George would be proud,” Dylan said.

“Stop worshipping those two!” Ally groaned.

“Fred and George have had their moments, but nothing beats the Marauders,” Harry said. “Now, let me get this straight…two blokes named Underwood and Deveaux got Dylan into trouble and now Dylan wants to pay them back. Ally—you’re against this and Hunter…I suppose you’re going to help Dylan however you can, right?”

Hunter nodded, but Dylan was looking at him curiously. “Who are the Marauders?”

“Four former Gryffindors who wrecked havoc on this school,” Harry said with a grin. “My dad was one of them, as was Sirius Black and Professor Lupin. We won’t discuss the fourth member,” he said with a scowl.

“Professor Lupin! Sirius Black! Didn’t he mur—”

“He was cleared of all charges,” Harry said furiously. “He didn’t kill anybody. That was the fourth member and the traitor, Peter Pettigrew.”

“But isn’t he dead?” Ally asked.

“No, he’s very much alive,” Harry said darkly.

“Your dad was one of these troublemakers too?” Hunter asked.

Harry nodded. “You should ask some of the older teachers around here sometimes about the exploits of James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and the traitor. Although don’t let Professor Lupin know I told you,” he added with a wink.

Dylan grinned. “Wicked.”

“So can you help us?” Hunter asked.

“Depends on what you want to do to enact your revenge,” Harry replied.

Ally gasped. “You’re going to help them?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve done this a couple of times. Ron and I have gotten ourselves into a fair share of scuffles with the Slytherins.”

“Do you think Ron would help?” Dylan asked.

He shrugged again. “You’d have to ask him. Do you have anything from Fred and George’s shop?”

Dylan nodded. “I’ve got a few of their Snackboxes.”

“So do you have a Puking Pastille?” Harry asked.

Again, Dylan nodded. “Yep.”

“Great. Slip them some of that, or maybe some Ton Tongue Toffee,” Harry told them. “It’s much better than trying to challenge them in a duel.”

Dylan thought about this for a moment and then muttered, “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

Hunter quirked his eyebrow in amusement. “Thanks Harry,” he said and grabbed Dylan by the shirtsleeve, pulling him away.

“Good luck,” Harry said, watching them go as Ally muttered, “We are going to get in so much trouble…”

About an hour later, Ron and Hermione returned, both looking rather excited.

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry asked.

“Sorry, Harry, we can’t tell you,” Ron said. It was apparent that Ron was very pleased at the moment that he was a prefect and that keeping information from Harry was a sort of payback for the knowledge that Harry was actually supposed to be one instead of him.

“What? Why?” Harry asked, turning to Hermione and refusing to look at Ron.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but we just can’t,” Hermione said, sitting down next to Harry and giving Ron a reproachful look. “You’ll find out tomorrow evening at dinner, I promise.”

Harry sighed. “Fine, keep secrets from me,” he muttered and got up.

“Like you don’t,” Ron said nastily.

Harry turned and glared at Ron. “You know what, Ron? Blow it out your rear end and get over it, would you? I’m sorry about it all. I’m sorry Dumbledore ever told me, because I was just as happy not knowing. So get over it and be grateful that Dumbledore did what he did; don’t hold a grudge. You’re the bloody prefect, not me! Perhaps one day you’ll get over your need to be glorified!” And he stormed away up into the dormitory without looking back.

The next morning, he woke up and found Ron sitting and watching him. “What?” he grumbled, fumbling for his glasses.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for acting like an arse this past week,” Ron said slowly, as if he were forcing the words out of his mouth.

Harry, understanding how hard it must be for him to say that, nodded. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting like an arse this week.”

Ron grinned. “But you did have some points though. I am turning into a fanatic and I am jealous that Dumbledore really did choose you for prefect. I just—I guess—”

“I know,” Harry said quietly. “Forget it, okay?”

Ron nodded. “Okay.”

*****

Later on that evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down in the Great Hall, finishing off their beef casserole as Dumbledore stood and addressed them all.

“If I could have a moment of your time,” he said, “I have an announcement for you all about the upcoming events here at Hogwarts.” There was a murmur of interest. “Thanks to the efforts of our Head Boy, Head Girl, and the prefects, we will be arranging several unique occasions for the entire student body.”

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. “How long have you two been working on these things?” he whispered.

“Awhile,” Hermione said, “but Ron wouldn’t know, would he?” She glared at him.

“So I’ve missed a couple of meetings…I was there for the last one,” Ron said indignantly.

“A couple? Try five!” Hermione shot back furiously.

“Shut up, would you all?” a seventh year growled from behind them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione focused back to what Dumbledore was saying.

“—that will hopefully encourage unity between the Houses. The first of these events will be something those third year and higher might remember from two years ago when we hosted the schools of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons: the Yule Ball.”

The Hall rose into a fevered pitch as many girls squealed in delight and many people began to discuss the upcoming event.

Dumbledore held up his hands for silence. “There will be a few differences at this year’s Yule Ball. The first would be that it will be held the night before the winter holiday begins: Friday, the twenty-first of December. The next day those wishing to return home for the holiday will, of course, board the train. The other difference is that the ball is open to anyone who wishes to attend, which I hope will be all of you. Dress robes will be required, however, dates are not.” He said this with a twinkle in his eye.

“The next event will be held between the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin Quidditch matches. It will be a boys versus girls match which will mix all four of the Quidditch teams. The final event will be for anyone who wishes to participate. It will be a dueling contest held in the late spring. Those who participate will have to learn and adapt to each participant’s dueling style, thus learning something about the person himself. I hope that many of you choose to participate in these events to help unite the Houses. Thank you.”

The Hall exploded with conversation. “A ball, a Quidditch match, and a contest?” Harry asked, looking at both Ron and Hermione.

“We thought they would be interesting,” Hermione said, “although only Quidditch players can play in the Quidditch match and it does divide the school by gender, but hopefully it will help unite some of the Houses.”

“The Houses are already united,” Harry said. “Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw get along fine, it’s Slytherin that doesn’t.”

“And Slytherin is part of this school—a major part. Without them we are down two hundred people,” Hermione reasoned.

“It’s rubbish,” Ron muttered, “but we have to go through it.”

“Well, would you prefer for us to have those two hundred people or would you prefer Voldemort to?” Hermione said fiercely as Ron cringed.

“Touché,” Harry said with a grin. “We’ll see how this turns out.”

Author’s Note: First off I have to tell you how incredibly lucky we all are. A few weeks ago, my computer crashed and this story looked to be doomed. That’s right, doomed, as in gone. But thanks to my wise mother, it was saved with the help of some computer technicians. So now I’m back with another chapter! I know, you can all groan now. Anyway, thanks to Nitya and Kalie for being my beta readers and also a special thanks to the Wonks for getting me through this tough time. This chapter is dedicated to all of them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PREPARATIONS AND PREJUDICES

December’s weather was as cold and bitter as late November’s had been. By the end of the second week in December, many of the students around Hogwarts were getting colds and had to receive some Pepper-Up Potion from Madam Pomfrey. Students with steam pouring out of their ears were not an uncommon sight.

One fourth year Ravenclaw girl was so busy trying to cover up the steam pouring out of her ears that she ran right into Harry as he was heading to Dumbledore’s office for his Occlumency lesson.

“Sorry,” she said hurriedly and then looked up at Harry. “Oh!”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Harry bemusedly. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Yes—er—I’m fine, Mr. Potter,” she replied, blushing.

Harry blushed too. “You can call me Harry,” he told her, causing her to blush even more.

“I’m Sinead,” she replied. “Sinead Cassidy.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said with a smile. “I hope you feel better soon, although I’m sure that Pepper-Up Potion is doing its job.”

Her face was as red as a cherry. “Er—thanks, Harry.”

He smiled again. “Well, good-bye.”

“’Bye,” she murmured as Harry walked away, continuing on his way to Dumbledore’s office.

He muttered the password and rode up the stone steps before knocking on the door and waiting to enter.

“Come in,” called Dumbledore and Harry entered to find Cornelius Fudge sitting in the chair Harry usually sat in before beginning his Occlumency lessons.

“It looks like I’ve showed up at a bad time,” Harry murmured.

“Yes. Unfortunately, Harry, we will have to wait until next time. But I do suggest you continue working,” Dumbledore told him.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied. Wondering what Fudge wanted out of Dumbledore, he turned around and left, rushing back off to the common room to talk to Ron and Hermione.

“He must be feeling the pressure finally,” Hermione said matter-of-factly after Harry told her and Ron about Fudge.

“And he should, shouldn’t he?” Ron said. “I mean, how many blunders has he made when it comes to You-Know-Who?”

“Exactly,” Hermione said. “The public is now against him. They blame him for not listening to Harry and Dumbledore and now everyone’s paying the price. It’s only a matter of time…”

*****

Several days passed since Fudge’s visit to Dumbledore. Harry managed to get in another Occlumency lesson and at it Professor Dumbledore asked him a question.

“So, when are you having another one of those ‘Army’ meetings?”

“Huh? Oh—that! Er…quite frankly I’m not sure, Professor,” Harry replied, shuffling his feet.

“Well, official clubs meet every so often,” Dumbledore said with a bemused expression on his face. “Perhaps it is time for the D.A. to meet again.”

“Yes, sir. Maybe the Friday of the next Hogsmeade weekend,” Harry suggested.

“Ah, that would be this weekend then,” Dumbledore murmured. “You had best get word out.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said and took his leave so that he could prepare.

The next day, Professor McGonagall swooped up and down the Great Hall, getting the names of those who would be staying over the winter holiday. Harry, Ron, and Hermione signed up immediately.

“Mum and Dad won’t be pleased,” Hermione told them, “but I’m going to tell them that I have a lot of studying to do and that as a prefect Hogwarts needs me over the holiday.”

Ron smirked. “Lying to them now, are we?”

“I’m not lying to them!” Hermione said indignantly.

“Well you aren’t exactly telling the truth,” Ron said with a snicker.

Hermione glowered and before she could say anything, Harry said, “Y’know Ron, it sounds like you don’t want her to stay here with us.”

Ron gaped. “What? Of course I do! I was just…I was just…”

Hermione’s anger melted away into a giggle. “Stop while you’re ahead, Ron.”

“So I’ve been wondering,” Harry said quietly. “D’you reckon all of the D.A. members kept those charmed Galleons we had last year?”

“I dunno,” Ron replied. “I still have mine.”

“So do I,” Hermione said vaguely and began to look around. She scanned the Hall, gave a little shrug, got up, and walked over to the Ravenclaw table where Luna Lovegood, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and Padma Patil were sitting.

“What’s she doing?” Ron asked.

“I have no idea,” Harry replied.

She returned two minutes later with a smile on her face. “Well, they all kept theirs, so hopefully everyone else did. What’s your plan, Harry?”

“They did? Good. My plan is to inform them when the next meeting is and spread the information by word of mouth. I reckon it will work, don’t you?”

“Perhaps. It could alienate a lot of students though—younger students,” Hermione pointed out.

“We could put a sign up in the common room,” Ron said.

“And what about Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin students?” Hermione asked.

Ron’s eyes widened in horror. “You actually want Slytherins there?”

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. “Ron—have you been listening to Dumbledore at all? This school needs to be unified. If we exclude the Slytherins we—”

“We’ll lose two hundred students in the fight against You-Know-Who,” Ron finished dully. “I listen to you, believe it or not.”

“I’m amazed,” Hermione muttered.

*****

By the end of classes, Harry walked down to Professor Lupin’s office to ask if he could borrow the room again.

“Ah, Harry, come in,” Lupin said when he opened the door. “What can I do for you?” he asked when Harry stepped in.

“Well—er—I was hoping to have another D.A. meeting tomorrow—”

“Say no more. The room is yours. Besides, the mandate is that every student organization must have a teacher to supervise, so I will be more than happy to do so,” Lupin said with a smile.

“Great. Thanks, Professor.”

“Of course.”

Harry left and headed to the library, where he was to meet Ron and Hermione.

“Ugh! This Transfiguration essay is impossible!” Ron groaned when Harry took a seat.

Hermione ignored him. “Did you get the room?” she asked Harry.

“Yeah. Lupin’s happy to let us use it,” Harry replied as Ron glared daggers at the reference book he was using.

“I figured he would. He seems to think the D.A. is an excellent idea,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, he and Sirius gave me all of those defense books last year, remember?” Harry said as Ron jabbed the parchment he was writing his essay on with his quill, blotting ink all over, causing him to swear viscously.

“Yes, he did,” Hermione said, nodding. “Plus clubs are an excellent way to unify the Houses, which is what Hogwarts is truly after. You’re doing your part, Harry.” At that point, Ron grabbed his wand and smacked it against the parchment, igniting it.

“Eh, I just want to prepare people for the war,” Harry replied and Ron quickly put out the fire.

“Exactly. Unity is an added bonus. Ron, will you stop playing around and actually study? This is a library after all,” Hermione scolded. Ron gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s.

“Come on,” Harry said, “let’s go back to the common room. Maybe Ron will be able to concentrate more there.”

At that, Ron crumpled the ruin that was his Transfiguration essay. They all stood up and left the library, heading up towards the seventh floor, but before they got there they heard some snickering coming from one of the corridors, followed up by a male voice saying, “What are you going to do now, Mudblood?”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly followed the fresh bout of snickering and found five fourth year Slytherin boys surrounding a smaller figure. “Hey!” Harry yelled.

The Slytherin boys turned around. “Look boys, it’s the great Harry Potter,” said a chubby brown haired boy.

A weasel-looking boy beside him sneered. “And his little sidekicks, the Mudblood and the Muggle-lover, are with him.”

“Watch your mouth,” Ron spat.

“What’s going on here?” Hermione demanded.

The chubby boy cackled. “We don’t answer to Mudbloods, Mudblood.”

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at the boy’s throat. “Then you’ll answer to this,” he said in a deadly whisper. “You!” he said to the person beyond the Slytherins. “Come here.”

A girl emerged from the crowd and ran over between Harry and Ron. Suddenly, someone burst around the corner. “Siobhan!” a girl exclaimed.

Harry turned to see the girl he had met a few days ago, Sinead Cassidy, running towards the girl. The girl ran over to Sinead and hugged her fiercely. “Are you okay?” Sinead asked. The girl, Siobhan, nodded weakly.

“What did they do to you?” Harry asked her, not moving his wand away from the boy’s neck.

“He threatened to dunk me into a toilet,” the girl said and began to sob.

Harry’s eyes blazed as he turned back to the boy. “You slimy piece of—”

“That will be a detention for all of you,” Hermione said, cutting Harry off. “Names—now!” she demanded.

“Morgan, Youngblood, Simms, Zervas, and Shelton,” Sinead said, eyeing each one of the Slytherin boys.

“I will be informing Professor Snape,” Hermione murmured. “Get back to your common room.”

The boys looked at Hermione in disgust, then to Harry with his wand pointed at them. Obviously deciding it was better to follow Hermione’s instructions than get hexed by Harry, they turned and left. Harry lowered his wand.

“Bastards,” Ron murmured.

Hermione sighed. “I have to go to Professor Snape’s office.” She frowned at that and turned to the Cassidy sisters. “You two had better get back to your common room as well. Harry—Ron, I’ll see you soon.”

Harry and Ron turned in the opposite direction and continued on their way to Gryffindor Tower. Along the way, Ron was cursing the Slytherins.

“Unity,” he spat and then cursed so strongly that even the portraits on the walls cringed.

“Watch your mouth, sonny!” an elderly lady wearing a monocle scolded

“Bite me,” Ron suggested as they passed her.

The portrait gasped. “Why I never!” she exclaimed as Ron rolled his eyes.

“So Harry,” Ron went on, trying to forget about the Slytherins, “the ball is about a week away…any idea who you’re asking?”

“Nobody at the moment,” Harry replied. “I mean, we don’t need dates, do we?”

“It would be nice though,” Ron said.

Harry gave him a shrewd look. “Who are you asking?”

Ron’s ears went red. “Well I…I—er—I have an idea…I just haven’t gotten around to asking her yet,” he said sheepishly.

Harry chuckled. “You better hurry, mate, or someone else might ask this girl of yours. Speaking of girls…we haven’t heard anything about Hermione or Ginny when it comes to dates, have we?”

“Ginny’s going with her boyfriend,” Ron scowled. “I swear, if that Finch-Fletchley does anything to her…”

“Relax, Ron,” Harry said soothingly. “We know Justin; he’s okay.”

“We thought the same thing about Dean too, remember?” Ron muttered.

“I have a feeling there’s more to the story than what meets the eye,” Harry said as they approached the Fat Lady. “Red nose,” he murmured and the portrait swung forward to admit them.

“Ginny told us what happened,” Ron said as he climbed into the common room.

“But she was being rather vague, wasn’t she? I dunno, maybe I’m just being stupid,” Harry said, heading up to the boys’ dormitory, Ron following right behind him.

“She just needs to choose her boyfriends more wisely,” Ron said, glancing at Harry.

Harry chuckled. “The overprotective big brother mode never leaves you, does it?”

“If you had a little sister, Harry, you’d understand perfectly,” Ron said and laid down on his bed. “I’m tired. I think I might turn in early.”

“You do that. Good night, Ron,” Harry said and grabbed his mother’s diary from underneath his pillow.

“What’s that book you’re reading?” Ron asked, his eyelids drooping.

“Just something I found,” Harry replied. He didn’t think Ron would understand his urge to read his mother’s diary. The redhead, Harry feared, would probably laugh at him.

“Oh, okay,” Ron said with a yawn.

“I’m going to go back downstairs,” Harry told him. “See you later.”

“Uh-huh,” Ron said.

“Don’t forget to do your Transfiguration essay,” Harry said with a grin and at Ron’s groan, he left.

Settling himself into a seat, he opened the diary just as the portrait opened and Hermione entered. “I don’t know if Snape believed me, but he’s going to force those boys to go with their detentions.”

“Good,” Harry said.

Hermione saw the diary in Harry’s lap. “Reading again, are you? How far along are you?”

Harry looked down at the date. “Would you believe I’m already into her second year?”

“Her second year? Really?” Hermione said, sitting down next to him. “That’s great. What’s she like?”

“She’s exactly like what everyone says she was like: kind, caring…” Harry sighed. “I wish I had known her.”

Hermione looked at him in pity for a moment before leaning over and wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sure she’s very proud of the young man you’ve become,” she said quietly.

“I hope so,” Harry said just as quietly. “I hope they both are.”

Hermione pulled back and looked at him straight in the eye. “They are,” she said firmly.

Harry frowned slightly. “How do you know?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Hermione asked back.

“My mom was into academics and my dad was into mischief. My marks aren’t the greatest and I doubt I have made any of the Marauders proud,” Harry said.

“Your marks are good,” Hermione countered. “A little more study time and I’m sure you could do very well. I mean, you received ten O.W.L.s, didn’t you? That’s excellent! As for the Marauders…didn’t you ever see the pride in Sirius’s eyes when he looked at you? Professor Lupin looks at you the same way. I’m sure your father would too.”

Harry sat back and sighed. “I just don’t know.”

“They’re proud of you, Harry, I know it,” Hermione said.

“So,” she went on, “are you ready for tomorrow and for next Friday?”

“Yeah, I’m ready for tomorrow. I’m not exactly ready for next Friday though,” he replied.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Ron seems to have it in his head that we all need dates. I, quite frankly, don’t want the hassle again. If I’m going to go with someone, I want to make it a friend and not some girl I may like because I don’t want to be nervous or anything. I just want to relax and have a good time.”

Hermione smiled. “Isn’t that everyone’s goal? To have a good time?”

“I can’t do that if I am wondering about what to talk about with my date. Friends make things casual. Hermione,” he said, turning to her, “who are you going with?”

Hermione laughed. “I’m in your boat, Harry. I’m not going with anyone. I’m content to be with my friends—I don’t need a date.”

Suddenly, an idea sprung into Harry’s mind. “Well, why don’t we go together? That way we know we’ll both have a good time, we won’t have any trouble with conversations, and Ron won’t bug us about not having a date.”

Hermione turned a bright red. “You want me to be your date?”

“Sure,” Harry said and suddenly felt a little self-conscious. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“No, no, I do. It sounds like a good idea. I’d love to be your date, Harry,” Hermione said, turning crimson again.

Harry smiled. “Great. It’s all settled then.” He picked the diary up off his lap. “D’you want to read this with me?”

Hermione gave Harry a blank look before murmuring, “Sure,” and leaning closer to him to read.

*****

The next morning, Harry and Ron got dressed and went down to meet Hermione in the common room before heading down to the Great Hall to begin their day. They found Nearly Headless Nick floating gloomily along outside the doors.

“Hey, Nick,” Harry greeted. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s of little consequence,” Nick said, a scowl forming on his pearly white features. “I just wish people wouldn’t make such reckless mistakes.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Well, after Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore was sacked, I received a letter stating that I would be admitted into the Headless Hunt,” Nick said.

“That’s great!” Harry said with a grin.

Hermione only frowned. “And then what happened?”

Nick sighed. “I received a letter yesterday stating that it was all a mistake and that as I am not completely headless I cannot join the Hunt. They’re toying with me, that is for certain,” Nick said indignantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He floated off.

“Mental,” Ron muttered and walked inside the Great Hall.

“Poor Nick,” Hermione murmured and followed Ron. Harry glanced at the ghost one more time before following her.

“So, Harry,” Ron said, sitting down, “I was thinking about how we both need dates…here’s my plan: if we don’t have dates by Monday night, we’ll spend Tuesday asking anyone and everyone.”

Harry laughed. “Sorry, Ron, but I actually found a date,” he told him.

Ron looked stunned. “Really? Who?”

“Hermione,” he replied, nodding towards her. “We decided it would save us both a lot of hassle if we just went together. No awkwardness, no boredom—it will be good.”

Ron had turned a bright red at the mention of her name. “Really?” he said in a squeaky voice. “That’s…that’s a great idea.”

“Are you okay Ron?” Hermione asked as she dished up breakfast for all three of them.

“Bloody fantastic,” Ron croaked and gave them a rather forced grin. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Hermione frowned and didn’t reply while Harry just shrugged. “So it looks like you’ll be the one finding a date by Tuesday,” he said.

Right at that moment, Hunter, Dylan, Ally, and their friend Laura walked up next to Harry. “Harry,” Hunter said, “there’s a rumor going around that there’s to be another D.A. meeting tonight. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “Same time, same place.”

Hunter nodded. “Great. See you then.”

Harry grinned. “Okay.”

The four first years walked down the table and sat while Harry, Ron, and Hermione finished up their breakfast.

“Let’s go get ready,” Hermione said and got up. Harry and Ron followed her out.

*****

The day went by quickly and before Harry knew it, he was walking to Professor Lupin’s classroom with Ron and Hermione for the D.A. meeting. Butterflies began to rise in his stomach again.

“Hey Harry! Harry!” someone called from behind them.

Harry turned to see Sinead and her little sister Siobhan running up towards them. “Hello,” he said and gave them a small smile.

“Is it true? Do you really run a Defense club?” Sinead asked, her brown eyes shining.

“Er—yeah,” Harry replied, feeling some color rise onto his cheeks.

“Wow. Mind if we come?” she asked, motioning to her sister.

“Not at all,” Hermione replied, smiling. “The more the merrier.”

Sinead grinned. “Great! Thanks!”

“In fact,” Hermione told them. “We’re heading to it right now, if you’d like to join us.”

“Sure!” Sinead said happily and, with her sister, followed along behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

When they entered Lupin’s room it seemed to be, if possible, more full than it was the last time. Harry gulped.

“Knock ’em dead, mate,” Ron said with a grin and gave him a shove to the front of the classroom.

Professor Lupin smiled from his place in the corner as Harry turned to face the crowd gathered inside the classroom, which went silent the moment he skidded to the front of the class.

“Erm—hello,” he said to everyone lamely, then cleared his voice and willed his nervousness to leave him. “Welcome back to those who were here last time and welcome to those who weren’t. Er—I was planning on doing a slight review of the Disarming Spell and then move on. So—er—partner up and start disarming. Remember, it’s ‘Expelliarmus.’ Good luck.”

Everyone immediately followed his instructions and soon the room was filled with people shouting the Disarming Spell. Harry walked around, praising people or correcting them. Then, after about fifteen minutes, he called their practice to a halt.

“So, who thinks they have the Disarming Spell down pretty good?” he asked.

Several raised their hands and Harry scanned them. Finally his eyes rested upon a boy his own age off towards the left side of the group. “You,” he said, nodding to the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Zabini,” he replied. “Blaise Zabini.”

It was then that Harry realized that he had found a Slytherin. “Er—well, Blaise, would you please come here?”

Blaise Zabini stepped away from a smaller Slytherin boy who looked exactly like him and walked up next to Harry. “Yes?”

Harry got out his wand. “I’d like to see how well you know the Disarming Spell,” Harry replied, raising his wand, as did Blaise. “On the count of three…one—two—three!”

“Expelliarmus!” they both shouted.

Their spells hit each other head on and bounced off, hitting two other people, causing their wands to fly. Harry nodded in satisfaction. “Very nice. Thanks, Blaise.”

Blaise simply nodded and then returned to his spot next to the smaller boy. Harry turned back to the group. “That sometimes happens,” he explained, “when two people say a spell at the same time. Anyway, time to learn a new spell…

“I would teach you how to stun somebody, but I’m not going to teach you how to knock out your opponent yet. Instead, I will teach you how to slow them down. It’s a very nifty jinx and it has come in quite handy several times for me—the Impediment Jinx.

“So, every repeat after me, please…Impedimenta!”

“Impedimenta!”

“Very good. So here’s what I want everyone to do with their partners: one will run at the other and the other will shout, ‘Impedimenta!’ If all goes well, your partner will slow down. Everybody ready? Right—off you go.”

Soon people were running and others were shouting the incantation to the Impediment Jinx. Harry was pleased to see how well most of them were doing. Other, naturally, were having a bit of trouble.

“Impedimenti!” shouted Ally Warrick’s friend, Laura.

“No, it’s ‘Impedimenta,’ Laura,” Harry corrected.

“Oh—right. Sorry,” she murmured sheepishly.

Harry grinned. “It’s quite alright. It can take awhile to get some of these spells and considering you’re a first year, I’m actually very impressed.”

Laura blushed. “Thanks, Harry.”

He smiled and walked away, watching other people, until his eyes fell upon someone he had not expected to be there: Cho Chang. He was about to walk away, but she turned at that precise moment and their eyes met. She gave him a small smile and then walked over to him.

“Hello, Harry,” she said.

“Hello, Cho,” he returned, a little wary of her. After all, the last time they had spoken to each other, she had slapped him.

“It’s nice to see the D.A. together again,” she murmured, looking around.

“Yeah,” he said and then asked before he could stop himself, “What are you doing here?”

She faced him again, but the anger he expected to see was not prevalent on her face. “We acted like little children the last time we spoke,” she said. “I’d like to be friends, Harry. I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I,” Harry said quietly. “I’m sorry I said such a horrible thing about you regarding Cedric. I was completely out-of—”

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Part of me now believes you were right.”

Harry frowned and was about to reply when suddenly the door burst open and the blonde-haired and blue-eyed Mara Frost entered with a hard, cold look on her face. Her eyes did a sweep around the room and she murmured, “So it’s true.”

Harry, against his will, stepped forward. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed and became even more icy as she glanced down at Harry. “I was under the impression that clubs cannot be run by students, Potter, and therefore this club is illegal. Plus, it goes against the Educational Decrees made last year.”

“Those Educational Decrees were repealed, if I remember correctly, Frost,” said Lupin loudly from his corner. He walked towards the back of the room where Harry, Cho, and Frost stood. “And the rules for clubs are that they must have a teacher to advise them. I am the advising teacher for this club, so it is perfectly legal.”

“It is not ethical to have a sixteen-year-old boy teach his fellow students dangerous spells,” Frost spat.

“He isn’t teaching them ‘dangerous’ spells,” Lupin said evenly. “I would never let him teach a spell that could possibly harm the students.”

“And what spells has he taught them already?” she asked.

“The Disarming Spell and the Impediment Jinx, that’s all,” Lupin told her. “No harm there.”

She turned to Harry. “What are your next plans?”

“I was thinking about the Leg-Locker Curse, the Jelly Legs Jinx, and perhaps the Full Body Bind,” Harry said. “I don’t understand what could be wrong with those spells.”

“There’s nothing wrong, Harry,” Lupin said. “Nothing illegal is happening here, Frost. There are no Death Eaters among us. You can go back to your patrolling now.”

She scowled at him. “Y’know, Lupin, you’ve become as arrogant and superior as Potter and Black were. And where has that gotten them? Dead, that’s where!”

“Get out!”Lupin roared as all of the students watched the two. Beside Lupin, Harry was shaking in anger. “Get out or I’m going to speak to Dumbledore about you!”

Frost snorted. “How mature,” she muttered and with one final glare at Harry, she spun on her heal and left.

Lupin turned back to the group and looked around. “That’s all for tonight. Everyone, get back to your common rooms.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly left with everyone as they all charged out the door.

“What in blazes do you think that was about?” Ron asked.

“I dunno,” Harry said angrily, pushing his way through the students.

“She had no right to barge in on us,” Ron said, following Harry. “What’s with her?”

Harry stopped so abruptly that Ron ran into him. “She hates me,” he said. “I don’t know why, but she hates me, and she hates Lupin too. The question is, why?”

“Who knows?” Hermione said from beside Ron. “Did she go to school with Professor Lupin and your parents?”

“Yeah, she did,” Harry said. “I don’t know who hates me more, her, Voldemort, or Snape.”

Author’s Notes: Not much to say this time around, except for thanks for the reviews everybody and thank you Nitya and Kalie for betaing this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A BALL TO REMEMBER

The next morning, everyone who was eligible to go to Hogsmeade lined up behind the large oak front doors and waited patiently as Filch checked their names off. Overnight, a heavy snow had fallen, making the ground a bright white as the students who were already checked off marched through it on their way to the village, probably to buy a butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta to warm up after their hike.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were midway through the line and talking about what they wanted to do in Hogsmeade.

“Chug back a couple of butterbeers,” Ron said firmly.

“The Three Broomsticks is going to be packed,” Harry murmured.

“I say we go Christmas shopping,” Hermione said. “Then we can go to the Three Broomsticks and chug back a couple of butterbeers.”

“Christmas shopping?” Ron groaned. “I hate Christmas shopping.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed you’re more of a receiver instead of a giver,” Hermione murmured.

“Hey! I give gifts! I’ve always gotten you two something for Christmas,” Ron said.

“That’s not what I meant, Ron,” Hermione said. “What I meant was that you enjoy getting gifts more than you enjoy giving them.”

Ron gave her a disbelieving look. “Who doesn’t?”

“I don’t. I’d much rather give than receive,” Hermione said.

Ron could only shake his head. “You’re weird.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks,” she murmured and walked out the door as Filch murmured, “Granger, Weasley, Potter…”

“You don’t understand the meaning of Christmas at all, do you?” Hermione asked once they started walking across the snow-covered grounds.

“Of course I do,” Ron said. “A big fat bloke named Santa gives us all presents.” He shot a grin at Harry, who chuckled.

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re hopeless, Ron, you’re completely hopeless.”

“I know,” Ron said, his grin growing wider, “but you all still love me anyway.”

Hermione, smirking, slipped her wand out of her pocket and, with a wave, sent a snowball at Ron.

“Hey!” he yelled, brushing the snow off his chest and then ducking down to retrieve a large amount of snow. After forming it into a ball, he launched it at Hermione, who ducked behind Harry at the last second, causing the snowball to hit him.

“Don’t use me as a shield,” Harry said, laughing and gathering some snow for himself as Hermione continued to send snowballs after Ron. He then dumped all of the snow he had on Hermione before grabbing his own wand and sending some after Ron.

“Harry!” Hermione screeched, hitting him with a snowball.

“You started it,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders and then threw another snowball at Ron.

“We are getting soaked,” she said, also throwing one at Ron. “Maybe the Three Broomsticks is a good idea.”

“Great,” Ron said, beaming when he clobbered Harry in the face. “Let’s go!”

Harry paused to wipe the snow off of his glasses as Ron and Hermione continued on. Then, as he rushed up behind them, he ducked down and snatched Hermione up by the thighs, forcing her to be carried over his shoulder.

“Harry!” she squealed as she laughed. “Put me down!”

“Fat chance, Snowball Queen,” Harry said, chuckling.

Ron grabbed her wand with a cackle. “No more snowballs for you!”

Harry carried her all the way to the gates of Hogwarts, where he finally set her down. She gave him an indignant glare and then a smile before taking her wand back from Ron. “Butterbeers first, shopping later,” she said firmly and strode on ahead of them.

Harry and Ron grinned at each other and followed her all the way into Hogsmeade village. Once inside the Three Broomsticks, they ordered their butterbeers and found a table towards the back of the pub that was free.

“So,” Ron said after taking a long gulp, “what do you two want for Christmas?”

“There’s this book called Ancient Mysteries that I’d really love to read,” Hermione said. “It’s supposed to be fascinating.”

“Maybe for you,” Ron said. “Anything else?”

Hermione shrugged. “Sometimes I wish I had a Quick-Quotes Quill when trying to come up with a decent letter to help out S.P.E.W.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “What about you, Harry?”

He shrugged. “I’d be happy with some cauldron cakes, chocolate frogs, and pumpkin pasties.”

Ron chuckled. “If I’m going to get candy, I’m going to get candy that I can use on other people, like a Canary Cream.”

“Ron, you’re a prefect,” Hermione scolded.

“Yeah, so?”

“So you just can’t go and act like Fred and George,” Hermione said.

Ron sighed. “Being a prefect isn’t any fun.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t trade that badge for anything in the world,” Hermione said with a grin before taking another sip of butterbeer.

Harry gulped down the last of his butterbeer. “Okay, if we’re splitting up and going shopping, I might as well head out. When do you want to meet back here?”

Hermione checked her watch. “Three-thirty sound good?” she asked both of them.

“Sounds fine,” Ron said, also draining his butterbeer.

“Okay. See you two then,” Harry said, making sure his cloak was in place and heading out.

He walked down the road for a bit, trying to think of some gifts, when he saw the antiques shop Hermione had dragged Ron and him to during their first visit of the year. As if being pulled by an unknown force, he walked directly over to it and opened the door.

Inside, the same old man, Ludwig Taylor, was stocking some rather fragile looking items onto the dusty shelves. He smiled when he saw Harry enter.

“Mr. Potter, welcome back!” he said happily, quickly shoving the items onto the shelf and walking over. “Can I help you?”

“Erm—” he started and suddenly his eyes fell upon the display case containing the ring that had caught his eye the last time he was in the shop. “I’m looking for a Christmas present for my friends,” he said. “How long does it take you to engrave those rings?”

“The rings?” Taylor smiled. “For you, Mr. Potter, I can have them owled to you on Christmas Eve.”

Harry smiled. “Well, in that case…”

*****

At 3:25, Harry walked back up High Street towards the Three Broomsticks with a bag in his hand. He was pleased with the items he had bought for his friends and he took a moment to settle down onto a bench and open the bag, congratulating himself for at least one of the gifts.

He looked back up the road and at the white, crystalline snow and grinned. Suddenly, he thought he saw a flash from somewhere. Looking around, he saw nothing but witches, wizards, and Hogwarts students walking by. It must have been his imagination.

Grinning again about the contents of the bag, he got up from his seat and quickly walked over and into the Three Broomsticks, where he found Ron and Hermione sitting at a table, bags sitting underneath them.

“Hey,” he greeted, walking over to them and sitting down before stowing his bag underneath his chair.

“Hey, mate,” Ron replied as he took a sip of butterbeer.

“Did you have fun?” Hermione asked him.

“Hermione,” Ron said in a tone as though he were talking to a six-year-old, “guys don’t have fun shopping.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ll try to remember that the next time I get stuck shopping with my dad.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Your dad actually likes to shop?”

“Yes, for certain items, especially for his vegetable garden,” Hermione replied.

“How come you never told us your dad has a vegetable garden?” Harry asked.

Hermione turned to Harry with a bemused look on her face. “You never asked,” she said simply.

“We have to?” Ron said. “I tell you two stuff about my family all the time. You two practically are family.”

“Yes, we’re the Weasleys without the red hair,” Hermione said with a grin.

Harry leaned over and ruffled Ron’s hair. “My older brother,” he said with a laugh.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Cut it out,” he muttered.

Hermione looked down at her watch. “We had best be getting back to Hogwarts now. Come on.” She grabbed her bags from underneath the table. “Wouldn’t want to miss dinner, right, Ron?”

At that moment, Ron’s stomach gave a loud garble. “Right.”

With a laugh, Harry gathered his bag and followed them out of the pub.

*****

The week leading up to the ball went by terribly slow. On Monday, Professor Dumbledore announced that he had booked the famous Singing Sorceress Celestina Warbeck, sending the girls into chatter. On Tuesday, the Polyjuice Potion had completed its month cycle and was ready to be administered.

“Now, go find someone else in the room and trade hairs—and don’t even think about it, Mr. Goyle,” Snape snapped as Goyle tried to give his girlfriend, Millicent Bulstrode, one of his hairs. “Give your hair to someone of the same gender.”

Harry and Hermione looked around, cringing. They were the only two Gryffindors in that class other than one of Hermione’s dorm mates. Hermione gave him a pitying look and rushed over to exchange hairs.

“Hey Potter, want to trade?” asked Blaise Zabini from the table in front of him.

“Er—okay,” Harry said, holding out his hair and taking the one Blaise held out for him. After he added the hair, his potion turned into a sky blue. Having many misgivings, he pinched his nose and took a swig.

After going through several gut-wrenching minutes where he felt like his skin was being pulled and dragged, he noticed his vision was very blurry, so he took off his glasses and then immediately yelped when he saw himself looking back at him.

“Er—Potter?” the other him asked. “Could I borrow your glasses, please?”

“Er—sure,” Harry said and handed over his glasses, in which the other Harry put them on.

“Thanks,” he said. “I never knew how bad your vision problems were.” He leaned forward and examined Harry. “I need to shave.”

Harry looked around very quickly. “Hermione!” he called.

A girl turned and looked at Harry before a look of realization dawned on her face. “Yes, Harry?”

Harry looked from the girl who looked like Hermione, to the other girl and then chuckled. “Do you happen to have a mirror?”

“I do,” said the girl who looked like Hermione. She fetched her bag and rummaged through it until she produced a small mirror, which she handed to Harry.

“Thanks,” he murmured and looked into it to see Blaise Zabini’s face staring back at him.

“It’s weird to see me in Gryffindor robes,” Blaise said.

Harry laughed. “It’s pretty weird to see me in Slytherin robes.”

“At one point,” came a voice not too far away from them, “they would have fit you well.”

Harry, Hermione, Blaise, and the other girl turned to see Theodore Nott standing there with Malfoy right behind him.

“Draco?” Blaise asked. “Did you trade with Theodore here?”

“What, you thought I’d trade with Crabbe or Goyle and have one of their ugly mugs for an hour?” Nott said sarcastically. He scanned Harry up and down. “Y’know Zabini, the only reason why you’re in Slytherin is because of your ambitions—the only reason, you pathetic Mudblood.”

Blaise glared at Malfoy, which looked very weird as it looked like Harry was glaring at Nott. “We’ll settle this later, Draco,” he said quietly. “Snape’s coming, so you better move along.”

Harry looked over just in time to see Snape sweep up the aisle, looking at them. Malfoy and Nott walked away.

“Well, this is a moment I will have to remember,” Snape sneered. “The day Harry Potter acted respectfully. Pity it’s not the real Potter.” He walked away as several of the other Slytherins snickered.

Harry turned to Blaise. “You’re Muggle-born?” he asked curiously.

“I am not,” Blaise said indignantly. “I happen to be pureblood, but unfortunately, both of my parents happen to be Squibs. They both shamed their families,” he said darkly.

“Shamed?” asked Hermione from the other girl’s body. “Well that’s stupid.”

Blaise turned to her and Harry saw a grimace pass over his features. “My mum and dad are resentful of me and my little brother—resentful that we are everything that their parents wanted them to be. We’re wizards, they weren’t.”

“You’d think they’d be happy,” Hermione said.

“They’re not,” Blaise said darkly, silencing the conversation until their hour was up and both Harry and Hermione had their bodies back.

“I never knew about Blaise’s parents,” Hermione said as they walked out of the dungeons and into the entrance hall where they were to meet Ron.

“Makes me think of Sirius’s mum,” Harry muttered.

Hermione glanced at him sideways before murmuring, “It’s good that you can talk about him.”

He frowned. “It still hurts, God knows I’m still in pain, but I’m dealing with it.”

“You’re coping with it, not moping around and that’s good.”

“I used to mope,” he said quietly, remembering all of those dark times in his bedroom on Privet Drive over the summer.

“I know,” she said, just as quietly.

He stopped and faced her in the crowded entrance hall. “I could have lost you that night too.”

She nodded slightly. “Yes, you could have. But you didn’t, so don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

He had this urge, this strange urge, to reach out and caress her face, but he squashed that notion the moment it entered his mind. One did not caress the face of their best friend. Not unless they wanted a very awkward moment on their hands.

“Hey you two!” Ron said cheerfully as he walked up to them and clapped on of his hands on their shoulders. “How was Potions?”

“Delightful as always,” Harry muttered, turning away from Hermione. “Why couldn’t you have been in that class? It would have saved me from being a bloody Slytherin.”

Ron cringed. “You were a Slytherin? Oh, mate, I pity you, really, I do.”

“So, how was your afternoon?” Hermione asked.

“Er…” Ron turned a brilliant shade of red. “Interesting.”

“What?” Hermione asked, a look of amusement etching its way across her face.

“Oh, nothing,” Ron said, shuffling his feet.

“What is it, Ron?” Harry asked, feeling his interest rise.

“I—er—got a date for the ball finally,” he murmured.

“And?”

Ron frowned. “Promise you won’t laugh, okay?”

“Of course we won’t, right Harry?” Hermione said.

“Absolutely,” Harry replied. “No laughing.”

Ron gulped and then whispered, “Luna.”

A short, high-pitched squeak emitted from Hermione before she was able to control herself and Harry couldn’t help but grin. “Luna Lovegood?”

“D’you know any other Lunas?” Ron said testily, eyeing Hermione shrewdly.

“Nope. Well, congratulations, mate, you’ve got yourself a date. D’you ask her?” Harry asked.

“No!” Ron shrieked. “I was in the library, trying to find something to put into my Herbology essay that’s due tomorrow, because I’m still a couple of feet short when she just…cornered me. Whatever happened to the guy asking the girl?”

Hermione stifled her giggles the best she could. “Oh, that’s quite conservative, Ron. Luna’s a bit…eccentric.”

“She had better not wear that bloody lion hat of hers. Could you imagine?” Ron said, looking aghast.

“I’m sure everything will go fine, Ron,” Harry said, still grinning. “It should be a fun night.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “You’ve got Hermione.”

At this, Hermione finally let loose her laughter. “How sweet of you, Ron.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron muttered. “Let’s go eat.”

*****

Wednesday went by as slowly as the first two days. Harry looked at his watch impatiently towards the end of Herbology, but the seconds seemed to take minutes to tick by.

Care of Magical Creatures went by just as slowly, but it was far more tolerable thanks to Hagrid. The weather was still extremely cold, but, as promised, Hagrid had produced some salamanders to help keep everyone warm. The large lizards rolled around in the burning fire happily as the class sat by and drew pictures.

“Are yeh all ready for the holiday?” Hagrid asked them as they packed up their things at the end of class.

“Yep,” Ron said happily. “Bed, here I come!”

“Yeh’re plannin’ ter sleep ev’ryday?” Hagrid asked.

“Yep. Past noon,” Ron said, grinning.

Hagrid rolled his eyes. “Teenagers.”

Harry laughed. “Can we come and visit you on Friday before the ball?” he asked Hagrid.

“Sure. I was hopin’ yeh would actually,” Hagrid said with a smile.

“We’ll be there, don’t worry,” Hermione said. “Right after classes are over.”

“Well, Harry and I can come down earlier than that,” Ron said. “Right after Defense Against the Dark Arts, in fact.”

“Yes, don’t be gentlemen and wait for me, I’ll come down on my own, thanks,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Hagrid chuckled. “Yeah, perhaps yeh two ought ter wait for Hermione.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, we can’t let anything happen to our answer guide, Ron.”

Hermione gave an indignant huff. “A what? Is that all I really am?”

Ron laughed. “Lighten up, Hermione! We’re just joking. Come on; let’s get back to the castle. See you Friday, Hagrid!”

Hagrid waved as they trudged their way through the snow and back up to the castle, where, the moment they opened the doors, they were greeted by warm, dry air.

Ron let out a huge sigh. “That’s better,” he said and walked in, followed closely by Harry and Hermione.

“The hearths have probably been tended to by house-elves all day long,” Hermione said, frowning.

“And they’re happy to do it,” Ron said in exasperation. “When are you going to see that?”

“And when are you going to see that house-elves can do the exact same work for payment? When are you going to see that house-elves deserve rights? When are you going to see that their enslavement is wrong?” Hermione said, her eyes blazing.

Harry sighed. “Not today, okay? In fact, could you two stop arguing until the New Year? Could you possibly do that?”

Ron looked quite affronted, while Hermione looked rather ashamed. “Sorry, Harry,” she murmured. “I’ll try not to have another row with him. Will you try, Ron?”

Frowning, Ron nodded. “Sure. It’s only a week. How hard could it be?”

*****

Later on that evening, after a rather exhausting Occlumency lesson, Harry sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs Dumbledore offered.

“How are you doing?” Dumbledore asked him, surveying from behind his half-moon spectacles.

“I’m tired,” Harry said, “and I have a headache.”

“Which is normal for those learning Occlumency,” Dumbledore said simply.

Harry sighed. “Just out of curiosity, besides you and Professor Snape, is there anyone else I know that knows Occlumency?”

“No, although your father considered learning it at one point for his Order work,” Dumbledore replied.

“My dad?”

Dumbledore nodded. “He was very serious about his work for the Order, and about his family.”

Harry smiled. “And yet he was a troublemaker.”

“He wasn’t a troublemaker for as long as you think, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “If he was such a troublemaker, haven’t you ever wondered why he was made Head Boy?”

Harry felt his eyebrows knit together. “Actually, yeah.”

Dumbledore grinned. “Your father was a very smart man. One of the most brilliant students to ever grace this castle. But he was extremely mischievous. It wasn’t until finally, during his sixth year, did he mature into the man everyone knows and respects. The way he is now in history. He matured so much that even your mother finally took a liking to him—she used to frown upon his behavior. His better performance in school and his transition into manhood could not be overlooked. So, I made him Head Boy.”

“So just because he got better grades and matured so much, you made him Head Boy?” Harry asked.

“He always had good grades. It was the maturing that impressed me, and the fact that he calmed down somewhat.”

“So you’re saying that if I improved my grades and matured, I could become Head Boy, just like my dad?” Harry asked, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Improving your grades would help you, that is true, but you are already a mature individual, Harry. At this point in your life, you are more mature than what James was. But I would not make you Head Boy,” Dumbledore said.

Harry blinked. “Why not?”

“Because being Head Boy is quite the burden, and you have too much to think about already. Quite honestly, I had some misgivings about making you Quidditch captain.”

“A burden? I doubt being Head Boy would be harder than dealing with the fact that if I don’t kill Voldemort, he’s going to kill me,” Harry said irritably. “I’ve seen and done more things around this school than any other student. I actually love being captain of the Quidditch team. And besides, isn’t the Head Boy allowed to be in the halls whenever he wants? I could use that type of freedom at night, like when I come to these lessons. The other night Filch tried to give me detention for ‘being a minute past curfew.’ I think I could be Head Boy easily.”

Dumbledore sighed. “You do make a substantial case, Harry. And I have been wrong in the past. Just this past June I did tell you that I had every intention to make you a prefect.” He looked Harry straight in the eye. “There are no guarantees, Harry. A Head Boy needs some of the best grades in the year and the capacity to be a leader. You fulfill one of those qualifications.”

Harry nodded. “But you won’t overlook me if I do qualify?”

“No, Harry,” Dumbledore assured him. “I won’t. That will be all for tonight. Have a good night’s sleep.”

Harry nodded and, with one last look at the aging professor, left.

*****

Thursday went by as slowly as the previous three days until finally they had reached Friday, in which the whole school started to buzz with excitement. Many could not pay attention as their lessons went on and in the corridors everyone talked about the evening’s event.

After the final class, Hermione met Harry and Ron in the entrance hall and they headed out to Hagrid’s. Surprisingly, Ron and Hermione had kept their word and had not had one argument since Wednesday, but Harry doubted they would last much longer. There were several moments where they would glare at each other after giving the false impression that they were quite calm in their conversations.

They trudged through the snow and down to Hagrid’s hut. When they knocked on the door, Hagrid opened it with a grin. “Hullo!” he said happily, moving aside and letting them in. “I bet yeh’re all excited about tonight.”

Hermione smiled. “It should definitely be fun. Are you coming, Hagrid?”

“O’ course! I wouldn’ miss it for the world,” Hagrid said, still smiling. “Who are yeh all goin’ with?”

Ron sighed. “Luna Lovegood.”

“Well, she’s a nice girl. Bit quirky if yeh ask me.”

Hermione snickered.

“Hermione and I are going together,” Harry told Hagrid. “It would be more fun for us that way.”

“Really?” Hagrid looked at Harry and then to Hermione. “Well, that’s nice. Now, the ball includes dinner, right? I can’ remember…”

Hermione nodded. “Just like last time, although I’d hate to think how hard the elves are working for this.”

Ron rolled his eyes but, to his credit, said nothing.

“Hagrid, would you sign a petition for house-elf rights if I wrote one up?” Hermione asked him.

“Well—er—s’pose I could. Don’ know if it’d make a diff’rence,” Hagrid said.

“It must!” Hermione said vehemently. “If only the Ministry would see that house-elves are beings too they would give them rights and proper wages.”

Hagrid sighed. “Some people are just stubborn.”

And Harry was sure Hagrid wasn’t referring just to the Ministry.

*****

They returned to the castle an hour and a half before dinner so that they could get dressed. Hermione had insisted upon it.

“How much time do you need to get ready?” Ron asked, scoffing. “You’re just throwing on some dress robes, right?”

“I need to freshen up,” Hermione said. “See you both a little later.” With that, she marched her way through the common room and to the girls’ dormitories.

Ron stared after her. “Women,” he muttered and headed towards the door to the boys’ dormitory. “Come on, let go get ready. After that we can play some wizard’s chess.”

“Okay,” Harry replied and followed him up.

Within fifteen minutes, both were in their black dress robes and sitting down in the common room again, getting ready to play. Harry ran a hand through his hair. “D’you think I should do anything about this mess?”

Ron gave him an appalled look. “What? D’you think Hermione is going to do much for you? You’re only friends, after all.”

Harry frowned. “Good point,” he replied and prodded his pawn forward.

“I mean,” Ron went on as he also prodded a pawn forward, “she’d never go all out for you like she did for Krum.”

Although Harry knew he should have known better, he felt rather shocked and disappointed about it for some odd reason. Quickly he chastised himself for his thoughts. Ron’s right, we’re friends. I shouldn’t be expecting anything more, Harry thought as he moved another pawn forward.

They played for a full hour until Lavender and Parvati walked out of the girls’ dormitory giggling. “Hey Harry,” they both said with knowing looks before walking over to Seamus and Dean, their dates for the evening.

Harry turned and saw his puzzled look mirrored on Ron’s face. “What’s up with them?” he wondered.

“Dunno,” Ron replied. “Must be all of this idiotic Yule cheer.”

Several more times the doors to the boys’ and girls’ dormitories opened and people flooded in and out of the common room. About ten minutes later, Ginny entered the room wearing very nice looking green robes. “Hey Harry, hey Ron!” she greeted. She checked the time. “Ron, shouldn’t you be down in the entrance hall to meet Luna?”

“Er…”

“Is Hermione done yet?” Harry asked her.

Ginny grinned. “She’ll be down here shortly. Come on, Ron. We can’t leave our dates waiting.”

She grabbed her brother by the arm and pulled him up. “See you soon, mate,” Ron said as he was being dragged out of the room by Ginny.

“Yeah, see you,” Harry replied.

After Ron and Ginny left, the common room cleared out, but there was still no sign of Hermione. What was she doing? Harry checked the time. If she didn’t get down there soon, they’d be late.

He turned to the fireplace and stared into the warm flames. Suddenly, he noticed his glasses were rather dirty. Taking out his wand, he tapped the tip of it to the lens and said, “Scourgify!” His vision cleared somewhat.

Satisfied, he returned his wand and continued waiting, but he didn’t have to wait long. A very quiet voice behind him said, “Harry?”

He turned—and immediately felt his jaw drop. Hermione was standing in the doorway to the girls’ dormitory, wearing slightly form fitting midnight blue robes which hung off of curves Harry never knew she had. Her hair was sleek and smooth and done up in a rather articulate knot with two curly tendrils hanging on each side of her face. She also appeared to be wearing a bit of makeup, including lipstick.

“My God,” he whispered. “You look beautiful.”

She turned a bright crimson. “Thanks,” she said. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

This time Harry blushed. He stared at her for a few more moments before remembering himself and holding out his arm. “Er—shall we go?”

She walked over and took his arm with a smile. “Sure.”

As they walked through the corridors to the Great Hall, Harry noticed that Hermione seemed a bit taller. Looking down, he caught a glance at the reason why.

“You’re wearing high heels,” he said in disbelief.

She laughed. “What, did you expect me to wear my school shoes?”

Harry grinned. “Well, no. I guess I’m just a little shocked, that’s all.”

“It was Ginny’s idea,” she told him. “I wanted to get some flatter shoes, but she insisted. She helped me with the hair and makeup too.”

They walked down into the entrance hall where the last of the students were entering the Great Hall. “I don’t see why you needed makeup; you look just as nice without it.”

Hermione blushed again as they entered the Great Hall, which, as it had been two years ago, was set up with numerous round tables. When they found the one Ron, Ginny, Luna, Justin, and Neville were sitting at, they walked over and joined them.

“Hey Harry! Hi Hermione!” Justin said happily. He was wearing robes of deep red, which brought the color out in his cheeks.

“Hi Justin. Hey Neville, hey Luna,” Harry said, nodding to each of them while pulling out a chair for Hermione, who blushed again and murmured a thanks before sitting down.

“Hello Harry,” Luna said, her eyes glassy. She was sitting next to Ron and was wearing sky blue robes which highlighted her eyes nicely. Beside her sat Neville, who was wearing robes of deep purple and answered with a “Hullo Harry.”

Harry sat down and glanced at Ron, who was staring at Hermione with a look of shock on his face. Hermione appeared not to take any notice.

Within moments, Dumbledore stood up from the staff table and smiled down at them all. “Welcome everyone to what I hope will become an annual tradition. I hear that there is a wonderful feast prepared for all of us, but I hope you all do not fill yourselves to sickness, because afterwards the lovely Celestina Warbeck will join us and you will all have a chance to have a fine evening. So let me not bore you any longer. Tuck in!”

The entire room applauded as plates filled with food. For nearly an hour there was nothing but chatter and the clatter of forks and spoons on plates and bowls. Then, after the food disappeared, Dumbledore stood up, as did everyone else. With a wave of his hand most of the small tables disappeared, leaving about twenty scattered about. The staff table also disappeared and was replaced by a magnificent stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dumbledore said to the hushed crowd, “it is my pleasure to introduce Ms. Celestina Warbeck.”

The crowd cheered as the famous Singing Sorceress took the stage. Within moments, she began singing a ballad.

“Come on, Justin,” Ginny said, pulling the Hufflepuff out onto the dance floor, where several people were now converging upon.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna sat back down at their table (it was one that had been spared) and watched everyone dance. After the first song was over, Luna said idly to Ron, “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

“I thought you didn’t like to dance,” Ron said, eyeing her in fear.

“Oh, usually I don’t, but I thought it would be nice for tonight. So, are you going to ask me or aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes gleaming.

“Er—” He looked like he’d rather do anything but that, yet he cleared his throat and asked, “Luna, would you like to dance?”

She smiled. “I’d love to,” she said and took his hand when he offered it. Beside Harry, Hermione was snickering quietly.

“So, you didn’t come with a date, Neville?” Harry asked after Ron and Luna took to the dance floor.

“No,” Neville replied glumly.

“You should have asked that girl you’re interested in,” Harry said.

Neville frowned. “She already had a date.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean you actually asked her?”

“No,” Neville said. “She’s got a boyfriend—she’s got her date.”

Harry frowned. He felt bad for Neville, he really did. “Well, if all doesn’t go well with this girl’s boyfriend, don’t be afraid, okay?”

“Yes, Neville,” Hermione said, giving Neville a knowing look. “Maybe she’s not aware of your feelings.”

Neville only frowned again. Hermione sighed and looked longingly out at the dance floor just as another slow ballad began. Harry gave the floor an apprehensive look before sucking up his nerves and turning to Hermione. “D’you want to dance?”

Hermione smiled brightly. “I’d thought you’d never ask.”

They got up and walked over to the dance floor, Harry feeling rather nauseous. “Just to warn you, I’ve got two left feet.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to dance properly,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “I can help you there.”

Harry blinked. “You can?”

She nodded. “Of course. Here, find the beat of the song.”

“The beat?”

“Just tap your foot,” she said with a grin. Feeling rather foolish, he did. “Ah, perfect,” she said and stepped closer, placing her hand in his and then guiding his other hand to her waist before placing hers on his shoulder. “Just move with it now.”

Again, feeling rather foolish, he did and Hermione grinned again. “There you go.”

“You mean I’m doing this right?” he asked, rocking back and forth to the beat with her.

She nodded with a grin. “For a novice.”

He laughed. “Gee, thanks.”

“Move your feet a little,” she said and he complied, making her smile widen. “See, you can do this.”

Before he knew it, the song had ended, as had the next one. As surprising as it was, he found dancing with Hermione as easy as flying a broomstick. He didn’t have the feeling of freedom he had whenever he flew, but he felt at peace. Part of him knew that had it been any other girl, he would have been a bumbling idiot. But with Hermione everything was okay, because she didn’t have any expectations of him. He was simply her friend, and she was his.

It was exactly what Harry had been hoping for.

As yet another song was sung, Harry looked around at the other people around him. Ron and Luna were dancing not too far away and Ron actually looked like he was enjoying himself. Hunter, Ally, and Dylan were sitting beyond Ron and Luna at a table, chatting merrily. Dean and Parvati were getting some punch; Dean’s eyes were trained on Ginny. In fact, his were not the only eyes on Ginny, Harry noticed. Neville was also watching her very carefully. Suddenly realization slammed into him like a Bludger.

“So that’s who Neville fancies,” Harry whispered fiercely. “It’s Ginny!”

Hermione laughed. “You just now figured that out?”

Harry grinned. “Well, I am a little daft sometimes.”

And he could have sworn that he heard Hermione mutter, “A little?”

The song ended and Harry took the opportunity to ask, “D’you want something to drink?”

“Sure,” Hermione said.

“Okay. I’ll go get some punch,” he said and headed off towards the punch table. As he was filling up two glasses someone walked up beside him.

“Hello Harry.”

Harry turned and met the eyes of Cho Chang. “Er—Hello Cho. Having a nice time?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m here with Eddie Carmichael, the Head Boy. I couldn’t help but notice who you brought. So you two finally started dating,” she said.

“What?” he asked, startled. “No, Hermione and I are here as friends. Just friends.”

“If you say so,” she said and poured some punch for herself. “Have a lovely evening.”

Harry frowned and returned to Hermione with the cups of punch. “Would you like to take a walk outside?” he asked.

“Er—sure. It is a little stuffy in here,” she said and took her cup when he offered it before following him out of the doors and into the night.

The paths, just as before, were lit with fairy lights. The snow had been magically cleared from the paths and Harry and Hermione found it easy to make their way around on the grounds.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as they walked.

“What? No—I just wanted some fresh air,” he said with a smile. “Bit nippy tonight, isn’t it?”

“It’s winter,” she reminded him. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes. Are you having a good time tonight?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from him.

She nodded. “It’s been quite lovely.”

Suddenly, they could hear two voices from not too far away. Giving each other a pondering look, they quietly walked closer to the voices. Sneaking down low behind a bush, they could see Snape and Frost standing together, both looking highly agitated.

“Still caring a grudge, eh Severus?” Frost said.

“You would know something about caring a grudge, Mara. If possible, yours was worse than mine,” Snape said curtly.

“At least I don’t take mine out on a kid,” she snapped back.

“Oh don’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at Potter—I know what you’re thinking.”

“That’s right,” Mara said snidely, “you’re a Legilimens. Just a warning, Severus, stay out of my head.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t want to look into the depths of your bitter brain,” Snape snapped back.

Frost raised an eyebrow. “At least I’ve found my place. You, one the other hand, flip-flop. But let me tell you this, Severus—once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. You may not believe this, but the Dark Lord does, and so do I.” She smirked. “He’ll make you pay one of these days and I doubt it will be pretty.”

“At least I’ve never been to Azkaban,” Snape shot back.

Frost paled and her smirk was suddenly replaced with a rather ugly look. “Don’t you speak of that. DON’T YOU EVER SPEAK OF THAT!”

Snape sneered at her. “Still hurts, does it? Now, is that the reason why you give Potter the looks of utter loathing, or is it because of her relationship with his father? I mean, you hated Evans for so many reasons.”

She scowled and then called Snape something that made even Harry cringe before stalking off. Smirking, Snape headed back towards the castle, leaving Harry and Hermione hiding behind the bush, both looking at each other with shock written all over their faces.

Author’s Note: As there is a lunar eclipse tonight I thought it would be nice to update again. I hope you all enjoy this chapter—I had a lot of fun writing it. Merci beaucoup to Nitya and Kalie for taking time out of their extremely busy RLs to beta this for me. *huggles* You two are the best!

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HIS NEAREST AND DEAREST

Neither Harry nor Hermione told Ron about what they overheard until the students who were going home for the holiday had boarded the thestral-drawn carriages the following afternoon. After they relayed the entire story to him, his eyebrows flew up so high that they disappeared underneath his bangs.

“She’s been in Azkaban!” he cried. “What the bloody hell is she doing here then?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Harry said, frowning. “Why would Dumbledore allow her through his doors?”

“Maybe she isn’t as bad as we think,” Hermione said.

Harry and Ron turned to her, gaping. “Isn’t as bad as we think?” Ron repeated.

“Come off it, Hermione, you know she’s out to get me. Snape himself said she might have a worse grudge than he does,” Harry said, sitting back in one of the cushy armchairs in the common room, which they currently had all to themselves.

“The question is why?” Ron said.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “What could your mother have possibly done to make that Frost woman hate her so?”

“I dunno,” Harry replied. “I wish I did.”

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, Harry, perhaps you just haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

Harry blinked momentarily before realization dawned on him. Of course! His mother might have written about it in her diary! Giving Hermione a small grin, he said, “No, I guess not. I’ll work on it.”

Ron looked between the two, confusion etched on his face. “Am I missing something?” he asked.

Harry shook his head. “Not at all.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Ron.” He hated lying to him, but he still feared about what Ron would think if he knew that he, Harry, was reading his mother’s diary. He did not want to hear Ron laugh or give him the looks of pity. The only reason why Hermione knew was because she was there with him when he found it, and she did not look at him any differently because of it. He was sure Ron would.

“Okay,” Ron replied. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about all of this now. Let’s play some wizard’s chess!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, Harry, play. I have some essays to do.”

This time Ron rolled his eyes. “Come on, Harry. Let’s leave the homework queen to the only thing she loves.”

Hermione scoffed. “Shows how little you know. Have fun,” she said, grabbing her bag and marching out of the common room.

*****

After two hours of being beaten by Ron in chess, Harry slumped down on his four-poster to, as he told Ron, relieve a headache. In reality, he was just finding an excuse to find anything that his mother may had written about Mara Frost.

He flipped through the pages, scanning as fast as he could. Suddenly, something caught his eye and he stopped.

17 November, 1973

Gryffindor House is cheering. Honestly, I will never consider Quidditch to be a wonderful sport, but I do understand the importance of this event. Gryffindor has finally taken down Slytherin in Quidditch. Now, why is this important? Well, according to Lupin, who was standing with me along with Black and Pettigrew, Slytherin hasn’t lost a match in the past decade—decade!

What happens to be even more amazing about this feat is that Slytherin’s Keeper, Mara Frost, was finally defeated. Frost joined the team last year, which is highly impressive considering Slytherin’s reputation for not admitting second years or girls onto the team. Frost must be very good. According to Belinda and Black, who kept butting in, Frost shut out all three games she played in last year, meaning, according to Black, that no one has ever scored against her—until today.

Potter joined the team this year and, I must admit, he’s rather good. Gryffindor was losing rather horribly when suddenly Potter got the ball, or Quaffle, and flew at Frost. With Black muttering to Lupin, “I bet you five Galleons she stops him,” Potter threw the ball…and it went in! Poor Black lost some money.

Potter was excellent. He scored at least five more times, the only Gryffindor Chaser to do so. Finally, when the game ended, Gryffindor had won, bringing down Slytherin House at long last. Today is a day of celebration. I just hope Potter’s head isn’t too big about his victory. And oh, I hope Frost calms down. She looked extremely upset at her loss. Hopefully things will be back to normal by Monday. The only difference will probably be that most of the Slytherins will want to hex Potter, which actually might do him some good.

Lily

Well, that would be an explanation on why Frost would hate Harry’s father, but it seemed that she didn’t hate his father at all—she hated his mother. The question was boggling Harry’s mind. From what he knew about his mother, no one could ever possibly hate her.

Frowning, he continued to flip through the diary, hoping to find something that might answer his question. The next entry he found that dealt with Frost, however, did shine some light on the answer.

24 March, 1974

Nothing really interesting happened today. Classes were rather normal, except that all during Defense Against the Dark Arts, Mara Frost kept giving me dirty looks over her shoulder. I didn’t understand why until I got to Charms class. I received the highest grade on our test out of all the third years! I’m so proud of myself. It does explain Frost’s dirty looks…I honestly don’t think she can stand it when people beat her in something. Obviously one can’t be the best at everything, but I think Frost is of the opinion that she can. One of these days she will be in for a very rude awakening and I hope I’m not there to see it happen. I’ve heard about her temper. Yikes.

Lily

Harry continued on, finding offhand comments about Frost glaring at his mother whenever she seemed to get the highest grade in a class. What made him laugh, however, was when he read a passage out of an entry on the nineteenth of June, 1974.

We received our exam results back. I got the top grade in Charms yet again, yet Frost was glaring even harder at Severus Snape, who overtook her as the best third year student in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It makes me wonder why she doesn’t glare at Potter so much, as he is the top student in Transfiguration, but she does glare at Black, who comes in second. But I’m sure she glares at Black for different reasons, like for the fact that he’s a great big prat.

If Frost was as competitive as Harry was thinking, it came as no surprise to him if that was the reason why there was such an animosity between both Frost and Snape. Of course, it didn’t take that much to loathe the man.

“I think I may have something,” he told Ron and Hermione at dinner that night. The Gryffindor table held significantly less people. Besides Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, two seventh years, a small handful of fifth years, three second years, and four first years, including Hunter and Ally, remained for the holidays.

“What?” Hermione asked, leaning forward.

“D’you think Frost has a competitive side?” Harry asked.

Hermione’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then went dark. Ron, however, looked bewildered. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“I—” Harry began, trying to think of something when Hermione cut in.

“I don’t think that’s the whole reason. There must be something else,” she said.

Ron nodded. “I’m with Hermione on this one,” he said and went back to his plate of shepherd’s pie.

“Keep looking, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “I’m sure the answer is in there somewhere.”

*****

The next few days went by slowly. On Monday night, Harry stood in front of Dumbledore, his wand out, and his mind spinning. Dumbledore had just put him under an excruciating test, but the results made the old man grin.

“You are doing very well, Harry. It is not an easy task to drive Legilimens out of your mind. You have just successfully done so,” he said and sat down, motioning for Harry to take the chair next to him.

Harry sat and murmured, “Thanks. It’s leaving me quite dizzy though.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Within time you won’t even feel light-headed. You’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Harry said quietly. “Professor, did you really mean what you said last week, that you’d consider me for Head Boy if I fixed up my grades? You’d actually give me that honor?”

“One does not receive the honor of becoming Head Boy, Harry. It must be earned,” Dumbledore said. “But yes, I did mean what I said. Now, it’s getting quite late. You should head off to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, getting up. “Good night,” he murmured and left.

He rushed through the halls and gave the password to the Fat Lady before plowing through the portrait hole. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked up from their Exploding Snap game when he entered.

“What’s up, mate?” Ron said, throwing a card in as Harry rounded around the sofa and grabbed Hermione’s arm.

“Harry! What—”

“I need to talk to you,” Harry said to her and practically dragged her towards the portrait hole and away from Ron and Ginny.

“Me? Why?”

“Because I need your help,” he said quietly. “I need you to tutor me.”

“Tutor?” Hermione gave him a concerned look. “Why?”

“I need to improve my grades,” he said. “I want to improve my grades.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked with a slight grin.

Harry frowned. “Hermione…”

She laughed. “I’m sorry Harry, but it’s so…unbelievable. Why do you want to improve your grades? You’ve never really cared about them before.”

Harry thought quickly. “I figure the more I know the better I can teach the D.A.”

This time Hermione frowned. “This has nothing to do with the D.A. What’s the real reason?”

Harry sighed and looked down at his feet. “Dumbledore told me that if I improved my grades he might consider me for the Head Boyship. I know it’s a long shot, but I actually think it would be nice to be Head Boy, considering that Dumbledore did say I was originally supposed to be a prefect,” he finished in a voice just barely above a whisper.

“Head Boy? That’s great, Harry!” Hermione said in an enthusiastically quiet voice, obviously realizing the need to not let Ron hear their conversation. She knew as well as Harry did that not having a chance at Head Boy would crush Ron.

“So will you help me?” he asked desperately.

“Of course I will,” Hermione said, grinning. “You deserve to become Head Boy.”

Harry felt his cheeks go red and he knew that Hermione meant what she said. Part of him wondered what she thought about Ron and his prefect position.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Harry!” yelled Ginny. “Are you done talking with her yet? It’s her turn!”

“I’m coming, Ginny,” Hermione said and grinned at Harry. “Day after tomorrow, in the library.”

Harry nodded and they both emerged back into the common room. “What were you two talking about?” Ron asked as Hermione sat back down.

“Er—nothing too important,” Harry said. “I’m going to bed—really tired. Besides, tomorrow’s Christmas, so you all should head off to bed pretty soon too.”

“We will, don’t worry,” Ginny said with a grin.

“Good night, Harry,” Hermione said with a smile as she successfully played her cards.

“Damn!” Ron muttered. “That’s the third game in a row, Hermione.”

She simply shrugged, making Harry laugh as he turned and headed up to his dormitory.

*****

Harry and Ron were awoken the next morning when two people started pounding on the door to their dorm.

“Oi! You two! Get decent quick!” came Ginny’s voice through the door.

“We are decent!” Ron groaned and rolled over in his four-poster. “We’re wearing pajamas.”

“Good,” Ginny said and the door swung open, revealing both Hermione and Ginny with a handful of presents.

“Happy Christmas!” Hermione said enthusiastically.

“Happy Christmas yourself,” Harry said, rubbing his eyes and then searching for his glasses. “What time is it?”

“Just after eight,” Ginny replied and dumped her pile of presents on Ron’s bed, causing him to jump.

“Ginny!”

“Get your lazy arse up then,” she scolded and sat down.

“Here, Hermione,” Harry said, shifting to make room.

“Thanks Harry,” she replied and set her load down before climbing up next to him.

Ron yawned. “Well, come on. If I have to be up this early we might as well open our presents.”

Grinning, they all started in on their piles. Harry opened up a rather lumpy parcel first, but before he could pull off all the wrapping paper, he heard Ron groan, “The infamous Weasley jumpers.” Sure enough, Harry pulled out a red and gold jumper with a golden snitch on it. He chuckled.

“Oh wow! Ron!” Hermione said in awe, her eyes focused on a little box in her hand.

Ginny hopped off her brother’s bed and looked down at the gift in Hermione’s hand. “Earrings!” she said with a laugh.

“I thought you disapproved of my ears being pierced?” Hermione said, turning the gold earrings towards Harry when he tried to get a look at them.

“Yeah well,” Ron said, his face a bright red, “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Hermione hopped off the bed and gave Ron a peck on the cheek. “Thanks,” she said brightly as Ron turned redder still. She plopped back down onto the bed next to Harry and then put the earrings on.

“Hey, thanks for the hair clips, Ron,” Ginny said with a grin. “You’re getting so sensitive.”

“Sod off,” he muttered, not looking at any of them.

Harry glanced at Ginny with a grin and opened up his next gift, which was from Ron. “Nice one, Ron,” Harry said with a laugh. “Wizard’s Chess: Quidditch Edition. Very nice.”

“I was hoping you’d like it,” Ron said as he unwrapped his gift from Hermione. “Oh God, a book—Highlights From the World’s Greatest Quidditch Matches. Well, at least it’s a good book. Thanks, Hermione.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“Oooh! I forgot! I’ll be right back!” Ginny said as she got up and bolted from the room.

“She’s weird,” Ron said after a moment and went back to his pile.

“Hey Harry,” Hermione said, holding up a small velvet bag, “what’s this?”

“It’s a present,” Harry said with a grin. “Ron has one too. In fact, so do I. Let’s open them together, shall we?”

Ron rooted around for a moment until he found his little velvet bag. Then, together, they each opened their bags to reveal—

“A ring?” Ron asked, puzzled as he pulled out a rather large ring with a light blue stone.

Hermione, however, was grinning. “They look like class rings,” she said examining hers.

“Well, sort of,” Harry replied. “Consider them friendship rings.”

“The stones must be our birthstones,” Hermione said. “Oh neat, the little emblems on the side…and they’re engraved with our names!”

“Hey, you had them engraved on the underside too!” Ron said, examining his ring rather closely.

Harry nodded. “I had to keep it short, because these things were getting rather expensive.” He flipped his own ring over and read the inscription:

Friends for Life

“Hey,” Ron said, looking over at Hermione’s ring, “how come her ring is smaller than ours?”

“Because I’m a girl, Ron,” Hermione replied. “It’s meant to look more elegant.” With that, she slipped the ring on her right ring finger. “Perfect fit.”

“It’s charmed to fit the first finger it is slipped onto,” Harry said, also slipping his ring onto his finger, Ron following suit.

“Nice,” Ron replied and then went back to his pile.

“Lovely gift, Harry,” Hermione said with a smile.

“I’m back!” Ginny announced as she rushed back in and thrust a parcel at Harry. “Happy Christmas.”

“Thanks Ginny,” Harry said, accepting the gift and immediately unwrapping it reveal a pair of Quidditch goggles. “Whoa—really thanks,” he said with a grin.

“You’re welcome. I figured you could use them—beats having to charm your glasses every time it rains,” Ginny said, sitting back down.

“Ginny!” Hermione squealed suddenly. “Thank you!”

Ginny laughed. “No problem. You said you wanted Ancient Mysteries, so I got it for you.”

Hermione bounced happily on the bed, causing Harry to bounce with her. “Hermione…”

“Oh! Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

Ginny laughed. “Hey Harry, thanks for the Snackbox,” she said with a wink.

“A Snackbox? Harry!” Hermione scolded.

“She may need it,” Harry said as he set his present from Hagrid down—a large plate of treacle fudge.

“Wicked!” Ron exclaimed, jumping up off his bed and examining a pair of orange Quidditch robes. “Thanks Harry! Chudley Cannons robes…wow!”

Harry laughed and reached down to grab his last present, which was from Hermione. After unwrapping it, he pulled out a large knitted blanket. “Did you knit this yourself?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Do you like it?”

He grinned. “Do you know how warm this is going to keep me? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said and blushed slightly as she grabbed her last gift. “Another one from you, Harry?”

“Yeah. I went a little wild this year,” he said with a sheepish grin.

She smiled and opened her present. Suddenly, her smile was gone and he could feel her stiffen. “Oh my God,” she whispered and looked at him with tears in her eyes as she held the music box that he had found her standing in front of during their first Hogsmeade visit of the year. “I can’t believe you bought this for me.”

Harry wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. “I just wanted to—”

“Thank you so much,” she whispered and leaned in to embrace him.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. “Happy Christmas.”

Over on Ron’s bed, both Ron and Ginny were giving each other bewildered looks, but Ginny just shrugged and grinned.

*****

That afternoon, the four of them went outside and trudged down the snow covered grounds to where those who were staying were building snowmen and having snowball fights. Suddenly, Harry felt something very cold and wet hit the back of his head and as he turned he saw three other snowballs hit Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

“Got them all, pay up Crabbe,” came Malfoy’s drawling voice from them. “Extra for hitting the Mudblood.”

“There goes my Christmas,” Ron muttered angrily and turned to face Malfoy. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

“Ron, stop,” Hermione said, but her face was red with anger.

“No, Weasel King, I can do a lot more,” Malfoy said with a smirk.

“Why are you even here, Malfoy?” Ginny asked sardonically. “Didn’t the escaped convict want to see his son?”

That wiped the smirk right off of his face. “You little—”

“Eat dung,” Ginny murmured and turned away.

Harry and Hermione made to walk away with her when Malfoy snatched his wand and cried, “Reducto!”

Harry’s hand had already dived for his wand and before it was completely out of his robe’s pocket, he had cried, “Accio branch!” causing a large branch to flying towards him and thus Malfoy’s curse. They hit head on and the branch exploded into a thousand little splinters.

By now Ron had his wand out and trained on Malfoy. “You’re going to pay for that, Malfoy. I mean it this time.”

“I’m so scared, Weasley,” Malfoy sneered. “One of these days, you’ll all get what’s coming to you, that is a promise.”

“When you start looking like a great white, ugly snake, perhaps then I’ll be afraid of you, Malfoy,” Harry said.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “So you’re afraid of the Dark Lord? You must have received a brain this morning for Christmas, Potter. It’s about time.”

Laughing, he, Crabbe, and Goyle walked away.

“Are you afraid of You-Know-Who, Harry?” Ron asked as he slid his wand back in his pocket.

“No,” said Harry defiantly. In truth, part of him was.

“I can see this becoming a vicious rumor around school,” Ginny said. “Thanks for the branch thing, Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “No problem.”

“Little creep,” Ginny spat. “Attacking girls…”

“Quite the gentleman,” Hermione said sarcastically. “Come on, let’s try to enjoy our day.”

“Oh, I will,” Ron replied, “the moment I get Malfoy back. Stupid asshole.”

And suddenly, the perfect idea dawned on Harry. “Thank you, Ron,” he said with a grin. “You’ve given me an idea.” With that, he took off running for the castle.

“What?” Ron said, looking at the others, trying to get some idea of what Harry meant. “Wait up, Harry!”

Shaking their heads, Hermione and Ginny followed both Harry and Ron back inside.

*****

“Fred and George are geniuses. Big helpers for mischief makers; pains in the arse for you prefects.”

“Shut up, Ginny. I completely forgot they gave that stuff to you for your birthday, Harry.”

“D’you think Dobby would really do it?”

“Dobby practically feels like he’s in my eternal debt. Plus, who wouldn’t like getting back at their abusive former masters?”

“Isn’t that the truth!”

“You three are going to get into so much trouble,” Hermione scolded from her seat near the fireplace. Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat at a table examining the bottle of L’eau d’âne that Fred and George had given Harry for his birthday.

“It’s about time we paid him back,” Ron said fiercely.

“Yeah, like for all those times he called you a Mudblood,” Ginny said.

“Like I actually care what he calls me. Ron—you’re a prefect and Harry—this is no way to behave if you want to succeed,” Hermione said harshly.

“Sorry, Hermione, but we’ve made our decision. You’ll just have to live with it,” Ron said.

“You’re not going to put us in detention, are you?” Harry asked with a grin.

Hermione frowned. “No, I would never do that.”

“Great, we’re good to go then,” Ginny said happily. “Ready to go to the kitchens?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Are you coming with us, Hermione?”

“I do not condone what you are doing,” she said flatly.

Ron grinned. “We’ll take that as a no. Come on.”

It took awhile to get Dobby to agree to go along with their plan. “You’s are sure Dobby won’t gets in no trouble?”

“Absolutely, Dobby,” Harry said gently. “Don’t worry. There won’t be any proof. Just pour a tiny bit of this into the goblet Malfoy will be using and dispose of the bottle.”

“That’s quite a waste, Harry,” Ron said from beside him.

“It will be worth it,” Harry replied.

“Dobby will do what Harry Potter asks,” Dobby said, but he was wringing his hands.

“Just keep your secrets with your silence,” Ginny said with a wink. “No one’s going to get in trouble.”

At that, Dobby grinned. “Miss is right. Dobby wishes you all a Happy Christmas and here,” he said, shoving a lumpy parcel into Harry’s hands, “a present for Harry Potter.”

“Er—thanks, Dobby,” Harry said and forced a grin onto his face. “We’ll see you later.”

“Happy Christmas, Dobby,” Ron and Ginny said, grinning.

“Bye…Happy Christmas!”

“You’ve got to love that elf,” Ron said after they left the kitchens. “So what did he give you, Harry?”

Harry, who had just finished unwrapping his present, held up a bright red wool hat. Ron and Ginny laughed.

“Yeah, you’ve got to love Dobby.”

That evening at dinner was one to remember. The moment Malfoy took a sip of his drink, he started choking until the ears of a donkey sprouted from his head and a tail ripped open the seat of his pants. Then, with the loud and sputtering, “Hee-haw!” he ran from the Great Hall, Crabbe and Goyle on his heels. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and even Hermione had to cover their mouths to stop them from sniggering too loudly.

“That was excellent,” Ron said happily and went back to his leg of lamb. “Awesome.”

“Remind me to send a letter to Fred and George, telling them how well it worked,” Harry said, grinning as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice.

They finished their dinner, bantering on and congratulating themselves and went back to the common room. After being soundly defeated by Ron several times with his new Quidditch edition wizard’s chess game, Harry went to bed, having had the best Christmas of his life.

*****

The next morning, however, was not at all pleasant. No sooner had he started on his bowl of porridge did Hermione gasp at the first headline in the Daily Prophet.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“There’s been another attack. Listen…

CHRISTMAS ATTACK IN EDINBURGH

It has been over a month since the infamous Azkaban breakout and now You-Know-Who has finally struck again, this time in Edinburgh, Scotland. Wizards and Muggles alike, enjoying their Christmas, received a huge shock around 9:00 in the evening when over twenty Death Eaters and a swarm of vampires attacked a section of the city.

“There had to be at least three-hundred of those blood suckers,” Gaius Slothby, a survivor from last night’s attack, told the Prophet.

The death toll is catastrophic. Over 100 wizards are dead, as are at least 350 Muggles. Ministry Aurors arrived too late, but it has been reported that there are at least 5 confirmed dead vampires. No Death Eaters were captured.

The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was not available to take questions.

“My God,” Hermione whispered and looked up at Harry. “Did you know? Did you have any dreams last night?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I didn’t. You would think that I would, but not even my scar hurt.”

“The Occlumency must be working then,” Hermione said and looked back down at the paper. “All those people…”

“They’re in Scotland now,” Ron said, his eyes full of fear. “You don’t think they’re…” he trailed off.

Harry quickly looked up to the head table, but he did not see Dumbledore amongst the remaining staff members. “I’ll see you guys a little later,” Harry said, getting up.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“To Dumbledore’s office,” Harry replied and walked away.

He walked quickly down the corridors and to the stone gargoyle that blocked the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. Absently muttering the password, he rode the stone steps up to the door and then knocked on it urgently. Just as he was about to knock on it for a second time, it opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore standing behind it.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” he asked and stepped aside to let him in.

“I just read about the attack, sir—the attack in Edinburgh,” Harry said.

Dumbledore frowned. “I had warned Minister Fudge to extend every caution for Christmas day. Voldemort loves wrecking havoc on what should be happy days. Sadly, he didn’t heed my warning.”

“The Aurors didn’t make it in time,” Harry said quietly.

“No, they did not,” Dumbledore said and walked over behind his desk and sat down in his chair. “They were all enjoying Christmas at home, just as Voldemort, I can only assume, planned. But I do not believe that the attack alone has brought you before me. What is troubling you, Harry?”

“There was no warning,” Harry said indignantly. “Professor, I didn’t see it!”

“No? Then it appears that our efforts have not been in vain. You are keeping Voldemort out of your mind, and you likewise are out of his,” Dumbledore said.

“But…but…” Harry sputtered, “but I was able to warn the Aurors before. How many lives were saved in Winchester? How many lives could I have saved last night had I had the ability to enter Voldemort’s mind and see what he was about to do?”

“There is no guarantee that you would have seen it, Harry,” Dumbledore reminded him.

But Harry was too angry to listen. “I bet I would have! I bet I would have seen him order his Death Eaters out with those vampires! I would have seen it! It’s these Occlumency lessons that are stopping me!”

“Yet those Occlumency lessons are also keeping you from being tricked again, Harry,” Dumbledore said evenly, causing Harry to go silent. “It is in your best interest for you to be proficient in Occlumency. If Voldemort can enter your mind and control you, the world is in great danger.”

Harry stared at the floor, his fists clenched. “I still don’t see what I have that he doesn’t,” he said quietly. “I don’t see how I will be able to beat him.”

“Within time, Harry, you will.”

“But the world doesn’t have time,” Harry said harshly. “I can’t be their blessed savior.” Dumbledore only frowned. “I’m not what everyone thinks I am,” he finished and he left, leaving Dumbledore frowning still.

He stalked up stairs, through corridors, down passageways until he finally found himself in front of the Fat Lady.

“Red nose,” he said rather aggressively and bounded into the common room when she opened up for him, making the three second years who remained for the holidays jump. Hermione was also there, sitting at a table with her homework spread out around her. She gave the second years a look and soon they scattered.

Harry plopped down on his favorite chair in front of the fire. He sighed heavily, his thoughts on Dumbledore’s words. He didn’t even notice Hermione close her books and sit down in the chair next to him.

“I take it your visit to Dumbledore’s office didn’t go so well,” she said.

“No,” he replied flatly before adding, “Where’s Ron?”

“He went up to the Owlery with Ginny to write a letter to their mum,” she told him.

“Oh,” he said indifferently. “I hope he tells her we said hello.”

She eyed him carefully, making him squirm slightly. “What?” he asked her.

“What are you hiding?” she asked quietly.

“Hiding? What makes you think I’m hiding something?” he asked.

“I can tell, Harry,” Hermione replied.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Harry said defensively.

She frowned. “You are a terrible liar. You’ve been hiding something since that night in the Department of Mysteries. Is it about Sirius?”

“No,” he snapped.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why are you being so nosy?” he shot back, his temper rising faster and faster.

“Because I care,” she replied.

“Well you shouldn’t!” He jumped up and started to pace around the common room. “You shouldn’t worry about what the hell’s going on in my life.”

“And why not?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Because I’m not worth it,” he answered and settled by a wall.

“Not worth it?” she repeated. “What on earth does that mean?”

“Just don’t worry about me,” he muttered.

She eyed him angrily. “This does have something to do with Sirius.”

“Leave Sirius out of this,” he growled.

“Sirius is a part of you, Harry. You haven’t been right since he died. You know, you had me going there for awhile. I thought you were doing better.”

“This has nothing to do with Sirius!” he roared.

“So then it’s Voldemort,” she stated matter-of-factly.

He breathed out a slight laugh. “You’re fishing.”

“I am not. It’s either one or the other for you. Sirius or Voldemort. You may act like you’re fine around everyone, including Ron and I, but I know that you think about both of them often,” she said.

“You don’t think I should worry about Voldemort, especially when he’s killing innocent people?” he asked, stepping away from the wall.

“Of course n—”

“You have no idea what I know. No idea! If you did you’d know that it’s either kill or be killed.”

“What?” she breathed, her energy leaving her as she slumped further down into her seat.

“You wouldn’t understand one bit,” he raged on, not hearing her. “You’ve never had a prophecy with your name on it.”

Her head snapped up. “But I thought the prophecy was destroyed?”

“It was, but Dumbledore knows it. He was the one who originally heard it. A.P.W.B.D.…Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He told me, so now I know the truth.”

Hermione stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Us?”

“Ron and I.”

“It’s not your problem.”

“Yes it is!”

“No, it’s not!” he yelled. “You aren’t the one the prophecy’s about!”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” he said. “Yes! You won’t die!”

All of the color drained out of her cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

He was walking dangerously closer to her. “‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but He will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…’ ”

Hermione was silent for a moment, then, “You. Your parents…you were born on July 31^st.” Her eyes lit up. “Marked…your scar.”

Harry nodded. “‘And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.’ ”

Hermione gulped. “You’ve got to kill Voldemort…”

“Or he has to kill me,” Harry finished. “It’s either kill or be killed.”

“Oh God, Harry,” Hermione groaned, rubbing her forehead.

“So the question is,” he said, resting his hands on the arms of her chair and learning forward, so they were face to face, “can you be best friends with a murderer?”

She closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them and looking directly into his eyes. “If it’s you, Harry, yes.”

It wasn’t the answer he had expected. He stared at her, his anger evaporating and before he knew what was happening, he closed the gap between them and placed his lips gently on hers.

It was over before he had a chance to comprehend what he was doing. He continued to look into Hermione’s eyes, however, as he straightened himself and sat back down in his chair.

“Hermione—”

Suddenly, Ron and Ginny entered the common room. “Hey you two,” Ron said. “I just sent Pig off with my letter to Mum—told her that you two said hi.” He examined both of them. “You two okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, Ron. We’re fine,” Hermione said, not looking at Harry.

Harry nodded slightly. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “So, what did you tell your Mum?”

Ron settled down into a seat along with Ginny and began to tell them about what he wrote in his letter. Harry wasn’t paying much attention to him though. Instead, his mind was reeling with what had just transpired between himself and his best friend. Glancing over at Hermione, he noticed that she determinately wasn’t looking at him but was also lost in her own thoughts.

Great, he thought. I think I just lost one of my best friends.

Author’s Note: Wow. Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews. I’m so…honored, really. Fizzing Wizzbee, I cannot believe you reviewed Chapter 23 five times! I’m amazed! So, to thank you, I’d like to dedicate this chapter to you. You’re the reason why this chapter is out today. Also, as always, thanks to my lovely betas, Nitya and Kalie. It constantly amazes me that you two take time out of your busy schedules to bother with this fic. So really, thank you.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WINDOW TO THE PAST

Getting their homework done was Harry and Ron’s objective for the next few days. They were both up by noon and they worked steadily, with Hermione smiling approvingly at them, for three straight hours before taking a long break. Then, after dinner, they would go at it again for another hour. They both just wanted to get their work done and to enjoy the rest of their holiday.

But that was not the only reason why Harry was working so diligently. His real reason for doing his homework nonstop was to have an excuse not to talk to Hermione, and he was sure Hermione was just as grateful for it. They had rarely spoken after the incident (they hadn’t even gone to the library to study) and when they did, both blushed frequently. They found it best not to speak at all because if Ron was in the vicinity when the blushing occurred, which he was constantly, he would ask questions, questions that Harry and Hermione were not ready to answer. So, for the time being, they both avoided each other, which gave Harry ample time to think.

He didn’t know what drove him to kiss her that day. He couldn’t understand why he had so suddenly lost all control and went with his instincts. More to the point, why did his instincts decide that he should kiss his best friend? Why did his body just go on autopilot?

He rubbed at his forehead dully, looking down at his Potions essay on the properties of dragon’s blood. It was the last bit of homework he still had to finish. Ron was sitting next to him with his unfinished Charms essay out, twirling his quill. Hermione was sitting in front of the fire, writing nonstop on two different rolls of parchment while Ginny sat in a chair, scratching the ears of the purring Crookshanks, who was lying in her lap. The only other people in the common room were the four first years. Ally sat sitting in another chair, reading, while Hunter was over in a corner with the other two first years, playing a game of Gobstones.

Harry sighed heavily and started to write again. Next to him, Ron returned to writing too, and occasionally Harry would hear him cross out words with his quill, grunt at something he was reading, or yawn. It was not the way either of them wanted to spend their Saturday night, but they wanted to get their work done in time for Sunday night, which was New Year’s Eve. Dumbledore had announced at breakfast that morning that Hogsmeade was planning on shooting off fireworks in celebration and that everyone would be welcome to go up to the Astronomy Tower to watch them if they wanted to. It sounded at lot more fun than just sitting around the common room, playing Exploding Snap or wizard’s chess, two activities that had been play constantly since the end of Christmas Day.

Then, quite suddenly, Hermione jumped up from her place in front of the fire and beamed at the rolls of parchment she was holding. “There,” she said triumphantly, “it’s done.”

“What’s done?” Ron asked and dropped his quill, obviously happy to have a distraction.

“My petitions,” she replied, waving both rolls, “for S.P.E.W. I’ve had the hardest time trying to word them, because I know if I called the wizarding race a bunch of idiotic and lazy trolls, I wouldn’t get anywhere, and phrases just like those seemed to always want to pop up and be written.”

“That would have been a lovely petition,” Ginny said with a smirk.

“So, you all will sign, won’t you?” she asked anxiously.

Harry, deciding that this would be a good way to break the ice with Hermione, held out his hand. “Sure, I’ll sign.”

She beamed at him and walked over quickly, handing him one of the rolls of parchment while Ron simply stared. “You want me to sign that, when the elves are perfectly happy?”

“They are not happy,” Hermione said stiffly. “They don’t know what the happiness of freedom feels like. Dobby could tell them.”

“Yeah, well, Dobby’s a bit of a nutter, don’t you think?” Ron muttered and went back to his essay.

Hermione frowned as Harry finished signing the petition. “Does that mean you aren’t going to sign it?”

“I don’t see why I should. Right now, the elves don’t want to be set free, Hermione. If you are so interested in their rights, become a barrister or something. Help werewolves get rights.”

Hermione looked like she had been slapped across the face. It was Harry who spoke next. “Ron, she’s going to have to face attitudes like yours the more she pursues S.P.E.W. Can’t you be a friend and support her?”

Ron dropped his quill again, staring at Harry. “What? But I—I am—you can’t be—” He huffed out a breath. “Oh alright, hand it over.”

Harry gave Ron the petition and turned back to Hermione with a smile as Ron opened it up and dipped his quill in his ink bottle. “Y’know, Hermione, Ron’s idea isn’t a bad one. You should become a barrister. Imagine all the things you could do, fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves.”

“D’you really think so?” she asked. “I’ve thought about it once or twice, but it would mean working for the Wizengamot, and with Cornelius Fudge as Minister, I don’t think I could stand working for him.”

“Well, anyone who gets a Ministry job has to work under Fudge,” said Ginny fairly as she walked up to the table. “Your only hope is that he gets sacked.”

“We haven’t heard anything more on the subject, have we?” asked Ron as he finished signing his name. “The people are getting quite upset at him and yet he hasn’t been sacked. What’re they waiting for?”

Hermione passed the petition to Ginny, who snatched her brother’s quill right from his grasp. “Well,” Hermione said, “at a time like this, it wouldn’t be exactly the wisest idea to have a political upheaval. Getting rid of our Minister in a war must be done delicately, very delicately.”

“But Fudge has to know what’s coming,” Ron said. “If he wasn’t so bloody stupid and believed Harry and Dumbledore straight away we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does know that he’s not going to stay in office for much longer,” murmured Hermione. “It’s going to be very interesting to see what happens.”

Harry finally put the finishing touches on his Potions essay. Closing his book and letting the ink dry on his parchment, he sat back and said, “Well, we do know he’s worried. He wouldn’t have been in Dumbledore’s office that one day.”

“Who d’you think will replace him?” Ron asked.

Harry could only shrug. “I dunno.”

*****

That night, Harry sat in front of the fire in his favorite chair, writing a letter to Fred and George describing the effects the L’eau d’âne had on Malfoy. I have never seen Malfoy look more like an ass than that night, he wrote. Bloody brilliant, mates.

Ron got up with a yawn and stretched. “I’m exhausted. I can enjoy the rest of the holidays though.” He, Harry, and Hermione were the only ones left in the common room. “G’night.”

“G’night, Ron,” Harry and Hermione replied in unison and Ron left, leaving Harry and Hermione alone for the first time in four days.

Harry sealed his letter to Fred and George and looked up at Hermione, who was gazing into the fire. She was biting her lower lip and tapping her foot incessantly. Harry felt a lump rise into his throat right by his Adam’s apple.

“Harry?” Hermione said suddenly, causing him to jump.

“Er—Yeah?” he asked, trying to sound calm.

“Er—” She glanced at him momentarily, blushed, and got up. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night,” he said quietly, wishing that the awkwardness between them would end. Then suddenly, just as she pulled open the door to the staircase leading up to the girls’ dormitories, he jumped up and shouted, “WAIT!”

Slowly, she turned and faced him, a look of fear in her eyes. “Yes?” she asked.

“W-we need to talk,” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably.

“You’re right, we do,” she replied. “But are we ready to talk?”

“We have to. We can’t keep going on like this forever.”

Hermione looked at him as though he were a different person. “Harry, sometimes you are wise beyond your years.”

He gave a shaky laugh. “Thanks, I think. Er—we should probably sit down.”

“Good idea,” she agreed and retook her seat. Harry sat down across from her. She looked vaguely into the fire before saying, “Why did you do it, Harry? Why did you kiss me?”

“I—er—I dunno,” he answered truthfully. “I don’t know why I did it, and even if I did know why, I don’t think I’d understand it. It wasn’t intentional, I assure you. I didn’t mean—” He cut himself off when he saw the stricken look on her face. His stomach sank when he saw tears forming in her eyes just as she jumped out of her seat and turned away from him. “Hermione?” he asked weakly. “What’s—”

“Y-you didn’t mean it,” Hermione said, her voice trembling as she turned back to face him. “D-don’t you understand, Harry? T-that was m-my f-first kiss.”

His stomach sank even lower. “It was?” And then he remembered that she and Krum had never had a romantic relationship. He mentally slapped himself for being so stupid and insensitive. “Oh, Hermione, I’m so—”

“Please, don’t be,” she said quietly.

“I’m a git, a daft git,” Harry muttered.

A ghost of a smile worked its way onto Hermione’s face. “A git you are not, but daft…well, yes.”

Harry stood up so that he could eye her levelly before murmuring, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Her sad eyes were now sharp as she stared at him. “Lose me? What made you think that you were going to lose me?”

He scratched the side of his head uncomfortably. “Well…I kissed you, did I not? Friends don’t just kiss each other and remain friends. They lose everything, or their friendship develops into something more, and I don’t think that’s going to happen here.”

Hermione looked down at her feet, biting her bottom lip as though she was trying to stop herself from saying something. Then, with a sigh, she said, “Yes, you’re right.”

“So then you see why I’m worried? The only other option is to lose everything.”

“We’re not going to lose anything,” Hermione said sharply. “I won’t let that happen, and I hope you won’t either.”

“No! No, of course not,” Harry replied.

“Then we shouldn’t be worrying about it,” said Hermione.

“But—but what about all of the awkward moments?” Harry asked, shifting uneasily.

“We’re friends,” Hermione said firmly. “Let’s just—let’s just put all of this behind us, okay? Forget about it.”

“Can we?”

Hermione frowned. “Honestly, no, but if it meant nothing, then what’s to worry about?”

Harry considered this. She had a really good point. “Yeah, it’s not like we fancy each other,” he said brightly. Hermione gave a small laugh and looked at her shoes again. “We’re going to be fine, right Hermione?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Thank God.”

Hermione laughed. “You know, Harry, we never went to the library so that I could tutor you. Monday?”

“That would be nice,” he replied.

“I’ll tell Ron you’re helping me with S.P.E.W. or something,” said Hermione.

“D’you think he’d believe that?” he asked, starting to feel some of the awkwardness leave them.

“Well, say I convinced you tonight to talk to Dobby about talking to the other house-elves about the petition,” she said, a hopeful tone in her voice.

“Very subtle,” he teased. “I could do that too, if you’d like.”

“You would?” Her entire face lit up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

She squealed in delight before rushing forward and enveloping him in a bear hug. “Thank you so much!” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Er—no problem,” he said, feeling his face go red.

She released him, her smile radiant. “You know, I was thinking…you and Ron are right, perhaps I should become a barrister. I mean, sure it would be awful working under Fudge, but I will run into closemindedness for as long as I try to gain rights for house-elves and other beings.”

“You’d be a good barrister.” Suddenly, the clock in the common room chimed midnight. “It’s late.”

“Yes. We should head off to bed. G’night, Harry,” she said.

“G’night Hermione,” he said and then added as she opened the door to her dormitory, “Sweet dreams.”

She laughed. “You too, Harry.”

After she closed the door, Harry turned and headed up to his own dormitory, and that night, he did have sweet dreams.

*****

Harry was up bright and early the next morning, and he didn’t know why. After listening to Ron snore for several minutes, Harry finally got dressed, grabbed his letter to Fred and George, and proceeded down to the common room, intending to go to the Owlery. When he arrived, however, he saw Hunter Farrell sitting by the hearth, looking into it gloomily.

“’Morning, Hunter,” Harry said. The boy did not look up. “Something wrong?”

Hunter sighed. “No, not really, it’s just that—that this was the first time I haven’t spent the holidays with my dad. I could have gone home to visit my mother, but I—well, neither of us have been quite the same since he died.”

Harry frowned and walked over before settling himself down next to Hunter by the hearth. “I spent my Christmas last year with Sirius and I would give anything to be able to spend another Christmas with him again. I know how you feel.”

“How many years did you know Sirius?” Hunter asked.

“Two,” Harry replied. “Not a long time, I know, but long enough for him to become the only father figure I have ever known.”

“Two,” Hunter repeated and then sighed. “I want my dad back so bad. I’d do anything—anything—just to be with him again.” He looked forlornly into the fire as he said this. Then suddenly, he asked, “When is Quidditch practice going to start again?”

“Er—I was thinking perhaps a week after everyone returns. We’re going to have to be sharp for the Hufflepuff match,” Harry answered.

“And what about the D.A.?”

“Er—again, a week after everyone returns.”

Hunter nodded. “I wish I could duel as well as you do.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, I am a little older than you, Hunter, and I have quite a bit of experience, sadly.”

“You can fight Death Eaters,” Hunter pointed out. “I want to be able to do that.”

“No, you don’t. You may have the impression that I go looking for fights. I don’t. I defend myself, not enact revenge on Voldemort and his followers,” he said, frowning slightly when Hunter jumped at the sound of Voldemort’s name.

“How can you say his name like that?” Hunter hissed.

“Because it’s just a name. Who needs to fear a name?” Harry replied.

The boy stared at him wide-eyed. “You’re nuts. This is You-Know-Who we’re talking about, the most feared wizard of all time.”

“Yeah, Voldemort. And okay, so people fear him, but why be scared of his name? Fear of his name only increases your fear of him,” Harry said, paraphrasing something that Dumbledore had said to him his first year at Hogwarts.

“Again, you’re nuts.”

Harry rolled his eyes and got up. “Maybe one day you’ll understand. See you later, Hunter.”

Hunter simply nodded. Shaking his head, Harry turned around and headed out of the portrait hole.

His walk to the Owlery was prolonged when Peeves suddenly zoomed into view and dropped several ink bottles right near Harry. Harry jumped back just in time, and scowled up at Peeves, who was cackling.

“Peeves—” Harry began to yell when Peeves suddenly blew him a raspberry and flew away. A moment later, Harry realized why as Argus Filch came panting up the steps, his cat Mrs. Norris in tow.

“Potter!” Filch barked. “How dare you make this mess!”

“Me! I didn’t do it—Peeves did,” Harry said indignantly.

“Did not, sir,” said Peeves, coming back through a wall. “I was about to tear down a tapestry.” He laughed wickedly.

Harry glared at Peeves while Filch looked back and forth between the two, deciding who to believe.

“Look,” Harry said, “if I dropped ink, I’d have it one me, right? I don’t, do I?”

Filch scanned Harry momentarily, then with a scowl, muttered, “No.” He shot a nasty look at Peeves. “I’m going to find the Bloody Baron.”

Peeves’ eyes suddenly went wide and he gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

“I am—right now.” And with that, Filch stalked off, closely followed by Peeves.

Pleased with his triumph over Peeves, Harry took off again for the Owlery, grinning. When he arrived, he was surprised to see that he wasn’t the only person sending off a letter early that morning. The Auror, Joaquin Crow, was muttering something just as a tawny owl flew off his shoulder and out the window.

“Un día, cuando esta guerra termine, volveré victorioso a España. Ahí sí valdré la pena.”

Harry frowned, wishing he understood Spanish. Quietly, he walked in, hoping not to disturb the now brooding Crow. But suddenly, Crow turned around and looked momentarily shocked to see Harry. A slow smile crept over his face. “Mr. Potter,” he said in his accented voice. “You’re up quite early.”

“Er—yeah,” Harry said and held up his letter. “Mail to send.”

Crow smiled again. “Me too. A letter to Mateo, my brother. That is an interesting necklace,” he said, pointing to the Snitch necklace that Harry hadn’t tucked under his shirt, as he was prone to do.

“Er—yeah. It was a birthday gift from Hermione,” he replied.

“Hermione? The prefect—Granger, right?”

Harry nodded. Crow eyed the necklace for another moment, making Harry feel slightly uncomfortable. To ease the discomfort, Harry walked over and called Hedwig down from her perch.

“She and Mr. Weasley are very good friends of yours, no?” Crow asked suddenly.

Harry paused and nodded. “My best friends.”

Crow smiled again. “It’s important to have good friends. You are lucky.”

Harry took Hedwig over to the window. Looking back at Crow, he said, “Yeah, they mean a lot to me.” Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a gold chain around Crow’s neck. “I see you wear a necklace too.”

Crow blinked and touched the gold chain before smiling. “A gift from my brother. I have finally found free time to sit down and write a letter to thank him. I’ve been busy patrolling and continuously scanning the lavatory that—” He cut off abruptly and looked away.

“That June Winters died in,” Harry finished for him. It had seemed like a long time ago, but Harry suddenly realized that it had been exactly two months. “Have any leads?”

“None,” Crow said. “Why would someone kill a helpless girl—with a knife no less? Why didn’t the murder use a wand? Kingsley, Mara, and I are looking into it, but there aren’t any promises.” Suddenly Crow’s eyes sparkled. “But what if…what if the person couldn’t use a wand?”

Hedwig hooted dolefully and Harry, who had been listening to Crow, turned back and tied the letter to her leg. Then, with a spread of her wings, she took off.

Crow was stroking his chin. “Something has just occurred to me, Harry. I must go discuss this with Kingsley and Mara. Oh, why haven’t we thought of this before?” And without saying anything else, he turned and strode quickly out of the Owlery, leaving Harry puzzled.

Harry eventually left the Owlery with the intentions of going to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. However, before he got there, he saw Lupin climbing the stairs. He smiled when he saw Harry.

“Good morning,” he said.

“’Morning, Professor,” Harry replied, smiling back.

“I have barely seen you this entire holiday. Where have you been hiding yourself?” Lupin asked.

“Under piles of homework,” Harry muttered. “Have a good Christmas?”

Lupin nodded. “Yes, I did. It was nice. Here, why don’t you come into my office? We can have a nice long chat then.”

Harry turned and followed Lupin up a flight of steps and down a corridor. Skipping breakfast was no big loss when it came to talking to Professor Lupin, Harry decided. Lupin was, after all, somewhat like Sirius, although Harry privately preferred his godfather.

When they walked into Lupin’s office, Harry caught sight of a shallow stone basin on Lupin’s desk—a basin with runes and symbols carved on it.

“A Christmas gift from Dumbledore,” Lupin said, following Harry’s eyesight. “It’s a Pensieve. Dumbledore has one too.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve seen it,” Harry said.

“Dumbledore thought I could use it. I’ve been placing memories into it since Christmas. A lot of memories…”

“It’s a nice gift,” Harry mumbled, looking at the basin. “It must be nice to be able to just siphon off your thoughts.”

“Yes, it has been useful,” Lupin said, walking over to his desk and peering down into the basin. “I would have gotten you something for Christmas, but as a teacher, it would have been highly inappropriate. Although,” he said, taking out his wand and stirring the contents in the Pensieve with a perplexed look on his face, “I could…yes, I could. Harry, come here please.”

Suddenly feeling nervous, Harry stepped forward. “Yes, Professor?”

Lupin was looking at the substance in the basin, which was now becoming clear as glass. “I want to show you something. Dip your head into the Pensieve.”

“Sir?” Harry asked, his eyes widening. Lupin wanted him to go inside his memories?

“Consider it a Christmas gift,” Lupin said. “Come on now; dip your head into the Pensieve. I’ll be right behind you.”

Harry looked down at the surface of the contents in the Pensieve. Then, inhaling sharply, he dipped his head down into the Pensieve and immediately felt as though he were being tipped forward into it.

He landed on his feet on grassy land. Cheerful music was playing and Harry turned to see a good number of witches and wizards all wearing colorful dress robes. Three canopied tents had been erected behind all of them. Harry heard chatter and laughter—sounds of joy.

“This was quite the day,” Lupin said from behind him. Harry was just about to ask him where they were at when Lupin suddenly said, “Ah, there I am.”

Harry turned to see a younger version of Lupin standing with a rather pretty young woman. “Who is she?” Harry asked.

“Zelda Starling, a girl from my year at Hogwarts and one of your mother’s former dorm mates,” Lupin replied. “Pity what happened to her.”

“What happened?”

“Murdered by a Death Eater for trying to protect a Muggle,” Lupin said grimly. “But that’s not why we’re here. Come on.”

Lupin headed into the crowd, Harry following at his heels. They had made it all the way to the tents when Lupin stopped. “There they are,” he murmured.

Harry looked over—and received quite a jolt. Standing before him were three people Harry recognized instantly: his mother, his father, and Sirius Black. James had his arm around Lily as Sirius clapped James on the back.

“I can’t believe you’re hitched already, mate,” Sirius said. “But hey, I could pick no better woman for you.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Sirius.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I think this party needs to liven up. What d’you say to a drinking contest, Prongs?” Sirius asked with a smirk on his face.

“I think that’s an ex—”

“James!” Lily scolded and nudged him playfully in the ribs.

James laughed. “Sorry, Padfoot, but my lovely wife wins. You’re more than welcome to try it against Moony or Wormtail, but I think your best bet is Mundungus.”

“Are you mad?” Sirius said, his eyes alight with mirth. “Get Moony drunk? That’ll never happen. But a contest against Mundungus doesn’t sound half bad. Excuse me. Oi! Mundungus!”

James and Lily laughed. “Sirius is going in over his head if he thinks he can win a drinking contest against Mundungus,” Lily said.

“Well, that’s Padfoot for you—completely reckless,” James said with a grin and pecked Lily on the lips.

“Ah, there you two are,” said an older man with messy gray hair that stood up in the back. He was walking towards James and Lily with a woman who also had gray hair.

“Mum—Dad!” James said happily as he let go of Lily and hugged the older woman before shaking hands with the older man.

Harry felt a tear at his heart. “My God,” he whispered.

“Your grandparents,” Lupin murmured from beside him.

“This has been a lovely wedding,” Harry’s grandmother said. “Lily, dear, you’re absolutely stunning.”

Lily blushed. “Thank you.”

“We’ve got a gift for you two,” Harry’s grandfather said as he reached for the pockets of his robes, a second later producing an envelope. At this point, Harry suddenly noticed that all conversations had stopped and everyone was watching the Potters intently.

“A gift?” James asked. “Mum—Dad—you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, well, we wanted to,” Harry’s grandmother said.

Glancing sideways at Lily, James accepted the envelope and tore it open. Lily leaned over to read what the letter that James pulled out said and gasped.

“Merlin’s beard,” James murmured, his eyes wide. “You bought us a house!”

The crowd cheered in approval, clapping and discussing. Lily stepped forward and threw her arms around both of Harry’s grandparents. “Thank you so much!” she cried.

Lupin placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Perhaps another memory now?” Suddenly everything swirled together and faded, then swirled again and refocused. They were not, however, outside standing on the grass. They were inside in a room lit only by a single lamp. Lupin was there, sitting in an armchair and across from him, also sitting an armchair was Sirius. Both of them were looking rather anxious.

“How long has it been?” Lupin asked.

“Five hours,” Sirius said immediately.

“Did you hear that the Longbottoms had a boy?” Lupin asked.

“Did they?” Sirius asked. “Good for them.”

Sirius examined the clock on the wall and began to tap his foot impatiently. Lupin took out a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Harry turned to the real Lupin. “What are we waiting for?” he asked.

Lupin only grinned. “You’ll see.”

Harry turned back and looked at the other Lupin’s copy of the Prophet. Suddenly he caught eye of the date: 31 July, 1980.

“Bloody—” But he was cut off when James ran into the room, a look of elation on his face.

“A boy!” he cried. “It’s a boy!”

Sirius jumped up and shook James’s hand heartily. “Good job, Prongs. D’you hear that, Moony? Another Potter boy!”

“So I heard,” Lupin said, tossing aside the Prophet and grinning. He, too, got up and shook James’ hand. “Another rascal. Well done, mate.”

“Thanks Moony,” James said. “D’you want to see him?”

“Of course!” Sirius said.

James led the way. Sirius and Lupin followed him upstairs, as did Harry, who was too absorbed in the memory to pay any attention to the real Lupin. They went straight down a hallway to the last door on the left, which James opened and let Sirius and Lupin inside. Harry and the real Lupin followed before Sirius shut the door.

There, lying in the middle of a large four-poster bed, was his mother. She looked weary, but her green eyes were brighter than Harry could ever imagine. And in her arms was a small bundle wrapped in blankets—a bundle that had jet black hair protruding from the side that laid in the crook of Lily’s arm.

“A fine patient,” said a woman in neon green robes from the side of the room. “Congratulations again, Mr. and Mrs. Potter.”

“Thanks,” James replied as the woman stepped between Sirius and Lupin, opened the door, and left.

Lily looked up at them all, smiling. Harry couldn’t help it, he walked right up to her bedside and looked down at the bundle. Sirius and Lupin had done the same thing.

“Merlin—he’s beautiful,” Sirius whispered.

“Look at those eyes,” Lupin said. “Just like his mother’s.”

James sat down on the edge of the bed, his hazel eyes shining. “I can’t believe I have a son.”

Lily’s smile widened and then she said to the little bundle, “It’s about time you’re introduced, isn’t it? Sirius—Remus, this is Harry.”

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Lupin, who was smiling. Suddenly, the room began to fade. Harry looked back one last time at his mother, father, and his newborn self as he felt himself rise and quite suddenly found himself back inside Lupin’s office.

Harry wiped away a stubborn tear from his eye and whispered, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Lupin replied. “Would you like some tea?”

“Er—sure,” Harry said and sat down in a rickety chair sitting in front of Lupin’s desk.

Lupin grabbed two tea cups and then with a wave of his wand, he produced a steaming hot kettle of tea. After pouring Harry a cup, he poured himself one and then settled down into the chair behind his desk. “So,” he said, “how are you doing, exactly? Anything troubling you?”

Harry stared into his cup of tea for a moment, then murmured, “Frost—Mara Frost. She hated my mother and she hates me. I don’t understand why.”

“Frost has a bitter soul, that is for certain. She—” Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Lupin said.

The door opened to reveal Snape, who was holding a steaming goblet. He scowled at Harry when he saw him. “Your potion, Lupin,” Snape said stiffly and set the goblet on Lupin’s desk. Then, without saying another word, he turned and left.

“Right. Well, Harry, you should go. It’s not pleasant to be around me when I’m drinking this. Enjoy the rest of your holidays, okay?” Lupin said with a slight smile.

“Yeah, okay. You too,” Harry mumbled and got up. “Thanks again, Professor.”

“Anytime, Harry,” Lupin replied.

Harry took one last glance at Lupin and his Pensieve before opening the door, stepping through, and shutting it.

He spent the rest of his day in the company of Ron and Hermione. Hermione, however, remained uncharacteristically quiet for most of the day though, which made Harry worry slightly. So when it was time for everyone to hike up to the Astronomy Tower to watch the fireworks display Hogsmeade was putting on, Harry let Ron walk ahead with Ginny and he hung back so that he could talk to Hermione.

“You okay today?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” she said vaguely.

“Then why are you being so quiet?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today,” she replied.

“About…”

“Lots of things.”

“Like?”

“The upcoming term, S.P.E.W., my parents…lots of stuff.”

Harry frowned. “We’re still okay, right?”

She glanced at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Oh, no reason,” Harry murmured.

“Come on, you two!” Ron said, looking over his shoulder. “It’s almost midnight!”

“We’re coming,” Harry assured him. To prove it, they both walked faster to catch up.

They entered the tower with five minutes to go and began to chat idly while they waited. Finally, with a minute to go, Dumbledore silenced them and they all began to count down. Then, right at zero, fireworks lit up the sky. The younger students watched in awe and the older students who had a girlfriend or boyfriend that remained for the holidays kissed them passionately.

“Get a room,” Ron murmured before turning towards the colorful night sky.

Harry and Hermione laughed. “Happy New Year, Harry,” Hermione said.

Harry turned and saw that her face was bathed in the color of the fireworks going off above them. Then, on a strange impulse, he leaned over and kissed her on her cheek, whispering, “Happy New Year, Hermione.”

She smiled and he put his arm around her as they turned back to watch the fireworks.

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’m sorry about how long it has taken me to update. College has been hectic, leaving me little time to write. And then…exams started. Anyone in college knows how that goes. But I’m back now, on break and working hard. Thanks so much to Nitya and Kalie reading this over and pointing out every single tiny mistake. Don’t know where I’d be without you two. Finally, I’d like to dedicate this chapter to Courtney, one of my faithful Wonky readers who celebrated her first PK anniversary last month. Happy Anniversary Courtney (even if this present is extremely late)!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SQUIBS AND SQUABBLES

Classes started again before Harry knew it, and he could tell that they were about to get a lot harder by the look Professor McGonagall was giving everyone when they entered her classroom on Monday.

“Well, I hope you all got enough rest over the holiday, because now it is time for some serious work. Your N.E.W.T.s will be upon you faster than you know it—your sixth year will be gone within a blink of an eye. We may have given you a bit of a reprieve last term, but all that will change. You must be prepared.

“With that, we will begin human transfiguration today,” she announced and then waved her wand, causing scrolls of parchment to appear on everyone’s desks. “But first, a little pop quiz.”

The class groaned. “A pop quiz on the first day back?” Seamus complained loudly.

“That’s right, Mr. Finnigan, and if you don’t like it, you can leave—forever,” McGonagall said. Seamus gulped. “Now, you will have a half-hour…begin now!”

When the bell rang, Harry and Ron stumbled out of the classroom, Hermione walking serenely behind them. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ron gaped. “You’re bloody mad!”

“Hermione, we don’t have your brains,” Harry said.

“I can’t help it that you two don’t use yours properly,” Hermione said with a shrug. “The results should be interesting.”

“Yeah, as in ‘dismal.’” Ron groaned.

Hermione scowled. “I, for one, did not get a ‘D.’ If that’s what you got, then it’s your own fault.”

“Our fault?” Ron scoffed. “It’s bloody McGonagall’s fault if we—”

“Will you two just shut up?” Harry snapped, irritated. “If we failed, we failed—end of story.”

Ron frowned, as did Hermione. “Sorry, Harry,” they both replied sheepishly.

“Hey,” Dean said, catching up to the group with Seamus at his side, “that pop quiz in McGonagall’s class was sure something, wasn’t it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned towards Harry as Ron began to complain with Dean and Seamus. “We’re still meeting in the library, right?”

“Yeah. I want to get that Transfiguration essay done,” Harry replied.

“Especially before your Occlumency lesson,” Hermione reminded him.

He frowned. “I’m not going.”

She stopped and a first year nearly ran right into her from behind. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I mean exactly what I said. I’m not going,” Harry said.

“Why not?”

“I reckon I don’t need it anymore, if I can’t see what Voldemort sees anymore,” replied Harry.

“Oh, Harry, you can’t be serious!” Hermione groaned.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Harry—no, you can’t!”

“Why not? It’s apparent I can do it,” Harry said.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Please reconsider,” Hermione pleaded.

“There’s little point in arguing with me, Hermione. I’ve made up my mind,” Harry said and continued walking, forcing Hermione to follow him.

“But Harry—”

“No buts, Hermione. I’m done,” Harry said firmly and sped up so that he could catch Ron, Dean, and Seamus, leaving Hermione looking very put-out.

That afternoon, Hermione put Ron between herself and Harry when they sat down in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Ron gave her a puzzled look, but then shrugged.

Professor Lupin walked into the class, but he was not holding an animal’s cage like he was prone to do. Harry and Ron eyed each other curiously. Learning about dark creatures had been a lot of fun—was Lupin stopping?

“What do you think is going on?” Ron whispered.

“I dunno,” Harry replied.

“Books away and wands out,” Lupin said briskly, taking his place at the front of the class.

An overall feeling of thrilling excitement washed over the class. Harry happily put his book away and waited for Lupin’s next instructions.

“We are done with dark creatures,” Lupin announced. “Now it is time to start learning how to defend yourself properly. It is time to learn some of the more difficult defensive spells magic has to offer. Today, we will be learning the Patronus Charm. Now, I know some of you already know how to conjure a Patronus thanks to Harry and the D.A. but I don’t believe any of you, except for Harry, have ever used it against a real dementor.” There was a collective gasp as many began jumping to conclusions. “I’m not going to pit you against a dementor,” Lupin said calmly. “We shall instead practice on a boggart, but that will be for next week when I find one.

“So, to start us out, we need to know the incantation. Harry, what’s the incantation?”

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry replied.

“Exactly. Harry here knows how to conjure a Patronus quite well—a true corporeal Patronus.” Malfoy glowered at Harry from the other side of the room. “So, Harry, would you like to show us how it’s done?” Lupin asked.

“Er—okay,” Harry said, getting up and going to the front of the class. He looked around at the faces, some that held interest and some (those of the Slytherins) that held distaste.

“Just take us through what you do when conjuring a Patronus, Harry,” Lupin said.

Harry nodded. “First, I think of a happy thought.” He thought of his birthday party, where he had felt so elated. He raised his wand. “Then, I cry out the incantation. Expecto Patronum!” Suddenly, a huge silver stag burst from his wand and cantered around the classroom.

“Very good. Thank you, Harry,” Lupin said, eyeing the large silver stag. Harry returned back to his seat and waited for further instructions from Professor Lupin. “So, as Harry said, the first thing you need to do is to think of something that makes you feel happy. Now, it can’t be any old happy thought. It must be something that makes you truly happy. So, let’s begin, shall we? Think of a time where you were extremely happy.”

Next to Harry, Ron shut his eyes tightly. Eventually, a grin spread across his face. Hermione was biting her bottom lip. Malfoy, Harry saw, was drumming his fingers on his desk, a bored look on his face.

“Everyone have their happy thought?” Lupin asked. Several people nodded. “Okay, who would like to go first?” Hermione raised her hand, causing Lupin to smile. “Alright, Miss Granger, stand up and go ahead when you’re ready.”

Hermione stood up and raised her wand. She inhaled deeply and shouted, “Expecto Patronum!” Slowly, a silver otter escaped from her wand and floated in front of her.

“Well done!” Professor Lupin said, beaming. “A corporeal Patronus! Ten points for Gryffindor.” Hermione smiled and sat down as the otter faded away. “Who’s next?” Lupin asked.

Neville raised his hand, which shocked Harry. Neville was never one to openly participate in practical Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, but perhaps because of his time in the D.A., he felt more comfortable.

He stood up, his face screwed up in concentration. “Expecto Patronum!” he said and a non-descript silver something shot out from the tip of his wand. The Slytherins laughed, Malfoy the loudest of them all. Neville went red and sat back down.

“Very good, Neville,” Lupin said and then turned sharply towards the laughing Slytherins. “You don’t have to create a corporeal Patronus to get the job done, so you lot can quit laughing. In fact,” he said as Malfoy continued to laugh, “Mr. Malfoy, why don’t you give it a try?”

Malfoy blanched and his chuckles ceased. He jumped up, his wand out, and then, with a haughty smirk, said, “Expecto Patronum.” Silver wisps floated hazily up from his wand tip. The Gryffindors roared in laughter.

Lupin could barely hide his grin. “Think of a happier thought and try harder next time, Mr. Malfoy. Next!”

*****

That evening, Harry sat with Hermione in the library, parchment and Transfiguration books strewn all over the table. Hermione was being extremely quiet, which unnerved Harry greatly. He was used to her giving him helpful tips on how to search through books faster to gather information. They usually bantered while they studied, something that Harry had greatly appreciated. It had kept him from becoming bored with their studying, but now Hermione was not speaking to him, and he found he was losing focus on the passage he was reading in his Transfiguration book.

“Argh! This is impossible!” Harry growled finally.

Hermione stopped jotting down notes and looked up at him. “How so?” she asked. “Isn’t the information in the book?”

“No, not that,” Harry said exasperatedly. “I’m talking about us. So I’m not going to Occlumency, big deal! Is that really a reason not to talk to me anymore?”

“Don’t be thick, Harry. If I weren’t talking to you, would I be speaking right now?” Hermione asked.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Smartass,” he muttered.

“Better than a dumbass,” she retorted, laughing when Harry’s jaw dropped.

“You—you—”

Hermione giggled. “Yes I did. Don’t look so shocked. You act as though I’m completely innocent.”

“You mean to tell me you’re not?” Harry asked with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, when it comes to Occlumency, I wish that you would go, but I can’t force you.”

“Well, thank you,” Harry said. “I’d appreciate an end to the nagging.”

“I nag because I care,” Hermione said indignantly before a grin spread across her face.

“Nice way of showing it,” Harry teased. “Now, I’m trying to find another thing a human can transfigure themselves into.”

“What have you covered so far?”

“Animals, as in an Animagus, and plants,” Harry replied.

“Could I, if I so chose, turn my head into a tea kettle?” she asked him.

“Yeah, but why would you?”

“I’m being hypothetical. So, what’s a tea kettle?”

“An—er—object?”

“What type of object?”

“Inanimate?”

“Exactly. There’s your answer,” Hermione said, beaming at him.

He smiled. “You know, Hermione, you could be a good teacher too.”

She laughed. “So, do you think you can finish your essay now?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. We should get back to Gryffindor Tower now before Madam Pince kicks us out,” she said.

“Right. Let’s go.” They got up and left as Madam Pince was swooping around the library, telling people to leave. “D’you think the other teachers will pile on the homework as much as McGonagall did?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied. “I’m expecting essays from all of my classes this week, although I am surprised at how easy Professor Lupin’s is.”

“Isn’t a Lethifold the other creature that the Patronus Charm drives away?” Harry asked her as they walked through the corridors.

“Yes. It’s funny—we’re studying charms and hexes and stuff and yet we’re still learning about Dark creatures. Lupin is an excellent teacher. I hope he stays next year,” Hermione said, pulling back a tapestry so they could walk up the stairs behind it.

“Yeah, me too.”

They continued walking, muttered the password to the Fat Lady when they got to the portrait hole, and entered the common room.

“Oi! You two! Where’ve you been?” came Ron’s voice through the crowd of Gryffindors.

“In the library, doing what you didn’t want to do yet,” Hermione said scathingly as she and Harry pushed their way through the Gryffindors.

“Glad I didn’t,” Ron said. “You two missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“Filch.”

At that moment Harry noticed exactly how excited his fellow Gryffindors seemed to be. “Filch?” Hermione was saying. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

“You two missed it,” Ron repeated. “About fifteen minutes after dinner in the Charms corridor. That bloke, the Auror—Crow—had Filch up against the wall while that Frost was interrogating him about some knife they found in his office.”

“Knife?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, a knife. But Filch kept howling that he uses it as a letter opener or something,” Ron said. “I think that they think he killed that Hufflepuff girl!”

“But she was only a first year,” Hermione said. “She couldn’t have possibly have done anything to make Filch want to kill her. I mean, if Filch ever wanted to kill anybody it would have been Fred and George. You’d think he’d be in a much better mood these days seeing as they’re gone.”

“Maybe Filch finally snapped and went bonkers,” Ron said, shrugging. “He’s wanted to hang us all by our thumbs for years now. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

But a thought had just occurred to Harry. “Say Ron—was Kingsley there?”

“Kingsley? Well, not originally. He arrived with Snape and McGonagall just after Dumbledore arrived to break it all up. Dumbledore looked quite upset. Asked Frost and Crow to accompany him and Kingsley to his office.”

“Well there you go,” Hermione said. “Sounds like Dumbledore doesn’t believe it was Filch.”

“Yeah but think about it, Hermione. He’s hated the lot of us for ages,” Ron said.

“It doesn’t mean he’s going to kill us,” Hermione snapped back.

“You sure? I saw him the other day muttering that he wanted Umbridge back so he could whip anyone who dared to drag in dirt on his precious floor. Maybe he finally wanted to pay somebody back.”

“But why a first year girl?” Hermione asked, skepticism in her voice.

“I dunno. Let’s think about what we know about her, okay? A Hufflepuff—we know that Filch favors Slytherins—and—erm—”

“That’s all we know,” Hermione said. “Great deduction there, Ron.”

“She was also a Muggle-born,” Harry replied softly, thinking hard. Ron jumped on this information.

“Aha! That’s right! Filch is a Squib. Maybe he’s mad because Muggle-borns, those with no wizarding background, can do magic while he, someone with wizarding background, can’t.”

Hermione regarded Ron in awe for a moment before saying, “You know, Ron, you actually just made sense there.”

Ron opened his mouth to retort before the words sunk in. Suddenly he gave her a dazed look and said, “I did?”

Hermione nodded. “But it still doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know. This is all very confusing.”

“I think it’s time we went to visit Moaning Myrtle, don’t you think?” Harry asked.

“You know I hate visiting her, but alright,” Ron muttered.

“I’m patrolling tomorrow night,” Hermione said. “You and Ron can go with me underneath the invisibility cloak.”

Harry grinned. “Tomorrow night it is then.”

*****

The school buzzed with gossip the next day. Filch was nowhere to be seen. Harry heard Malfoy joking with Crabbe and Goyle about it in the entrance hall that evening.

“The useless fool is probably holed up in his office, clutching that ugly cat to his chest.”

For once, Harry actually found something Malfoy said funny, although he did not laugh. He was too focused on sneaking out of the common room later on that night when Hermione went on patrol. It had been quite awhile since Harry had last snuck out with the invisibility cloak and he hoped that it still would cover both Ron and himself. They weren’t as short as they used to be.

Before he knew it, it was nine o’clock, and Harry and Ron were covering themselves with the invisibility cloak and heading down to the common room. Both of them had to bend their knees so that the cloak would cover their feet as they walked.

Hermione was standing at a table, adjusting her prefect’s badge. As Harry and Ron passed her on their way to the portrait hole, Harry gently touched her arm, letting her know that they were there. Then, with a nonchalant look on her face, she went to the portrait hole and pushed the portrait open, letting Harry and Ron out first before following. They walked down the corridor in silence until they turned the corner, where Ron whispered, “Let’s be quick, okay?”

“Come on,” Harry whispered.

They traveled down to the floor where Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom was. They were just about to turn a corner to the corridor where the bathroom was at when a voice called out, “What are you doing?”

The three of them turned around to see Mara Frost striding towards them, eyeing Hermione. Harry grabbed Ron and pulled him back against the wall.

“I’m patrolling,” Hermione replied.

“Patrolling?”

“Yes. I’m a prefect and I’m on duty tonight,” Hermione explained. “I’m just making my rounds.”

Frost scowled. “I know you’re a prefect. You shouldn’t be down around here. You’re very close to a crime scene. Go away.”

Hermione looked highly affronted, but she walked away all the same. Ron made to follow her, but Harry held him back and shook his head underneath the cloak. Frost stood by for a few more moments, scowling fiercely, before turning and walking away.

Ron waited until her footfalls diminished before speaking. “We have to go get Hermione,” he said.

“Just wait a minute,” Harry said quietly, listening hard. A moment later, he heard someone walking their way. Suddenly, Hermione turned a corner and was walking back towards them.

“Harry? Ron? Still here?” she whispered.

“Right here, Hermione,” Harry replied. “Let’s go.”

They continued walking until they reached the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Ron suddenly murmured, “Please let us be quick. Moaning Myrtle really does annoy me.”

“You’re such a nice guy, Ron,” Hermione muttered and pushed open the door to reveal something none of them were expecting.

“What are you lot doing here?” Ron blurted.

Hunter, Dylan, and Ally jumped and spun around. “Hermione!” Dylan exclaimed.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

“Why did I just hear Ron’s voice?” Hunter asked.

“Because,” Harry said, pulling the cloak off of himself and Ron, causing the three first years to jump, “we’re here too.”

“Holy—”

“What are you three doing here?” Hermione asked again.

“How did you two—” Dylan asked before Ally said, “That’s an invisibility cloak!”

“Yeah, it is,” Ron said, eyeing them darkly. “Why the bloody hell are you here? Don’t make me put you lot in detention.”

“We’re searching for clues,” Dylan said.

“Clues?” said Ron incredulously.

“Yeah, clues,” Dylan said.

“We’re trying to see if Filch really did stab June to death,” Ally said.

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Hermione asked, watching the three of them with great interest.

“Well, we knew that June had been murdered—” Hunter began.

“—And when those Aurors started to yell at Filch about a knife in his office—” Dylan continued.

“—We figured that she had been stabbed and that he was their leading suspect,” Ally finished.

“But how did you two know to come here to search for clues?” Hermione asked.

“We overheard that Crow bloke talking to that Frost lady,” Hunter said. “He said, ‘I think I know who killed that girl in that ghost’s bathroom.’ Ally told us that a ghost lives here.”

“Do you think Filch murdered June?” Dylan asked.

“We don’t know,” Harry replied, “and it’s not up to you lot to find out.”

“Yeah, so go back to Gryffindor Tower,” Ron said.

“Then why are you here?” Hunter asked. “It’s not up to you lot to find out who killed June either. What are you here for?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Ron spat.

Harry frowned. “Look, you want the truth, right?” The three of them nodded. “Well, you’re right, she was stabbed. We’re here to see if the Aurors missed something. I don’t think Filch murdered anyone. I think a more powerful force has. A force that I’m familiar with. So we’re here to find proof of that. Trust me, it’s nothing you want to get into.”

“Why not?” Hunter asked.

Harry stared at him for a moment before asking, “How much do you want to be part of a war?”

Ally’s eyes went wide. “The war against You-Know-Who?”

Harry nodded. “Four years ago, someone Ron, Hermione, and I know very well was possessed by Voldemort and opened the Chamber of Secrets, letting loose a basilisk that petrified Hermione and three others, not to mention Nearly Headless Nick and Mrs. Norris. So it is possible for Voldemort to somehow be among us. I’m hoping it’s not true.”

Ally, looking horrorstruck, turned to a pondering Hermione. “Do you think it’s true, Hermione? Is somebody here being possessed?”

Hermione remained silent for a moment before murmuring, “It is very possible. Harry, didn’t Voldemort possess you in the Ministry of Magic last summer?”

“Yes, when he tried to get Dumbledore to kill me,” Harry replied. Beside him, Ron was looking just as horrorstruck as Ally.

“It’s plausible. The wards around this school are impossible to penetrate, but somehow I wouldn’t put it past Voldemort to figure out a way,” Hermione said. “I mean, he possessed someone when in the form of a memory in a diary, did he not?”

“And he did come back to life,” Ron added in a wavering voice.

Harry nodded. “It’s possible. Do you three see what we could be up against?”

Hunter was frowning. “I want to help though.”

“Stand united against him,” Hermione said. “Don’t show him any weakness. He feeds on it.”

“Is that all I can do?” Hunter asked darkly.

“Hunter…” Ally warned quietly.

“I want to kill them!” he screamed. “I want to kill those wankers who killed my dad!”

He walked forward and looked into Hunter’s eyes. “That anger—that desire to destroy someone—is exactly what Voldemort wants. You’re playing right into his hands, like some puppet.”

Hunter shoved him as hard as he could, forcing Harry to step back several feet. “I’m not his puppet!”

“Then learn to cope! If I learned how, I’m sure you can too,” Harry said.

Hunter scowled. “Let’s leave them to it,” he spat while heading towards the door. Dylan and Ally eyed him warily before following.

“I hope you three find what you’re looking for,” Ally said and closed the door.

Harry sighed. “Okay Hermione, do you know any spells to x-ray this place?”

“X-ray?” Ron asked, puzzled.

“It’s a Muggle thing,” Hermione said simply. “So, you want to scan the bathroom?”

“Yes. Can we?”

“Well, there is a spell I know that causes the wand to shine black light…you know, that stuff that Muggle forensics investigators use,” Hermione told them.

“Great. Let’s do that,” Harry said. “But won’t we need goggles?”

Hermione searched around. Then, she plucked the prefect’s badge off of her robes and muttered a spell, transfiguring it into a pair of orange goggles. “Ron, give me your badge.” Ron took his off and handed it to Hermione. With a wave of her wand, Ron’s badge turned into a pair of orange goggles too. “Harry, your glasses.” Harry took them off and handed them to Hermione, who tapped them with her wand. Suddenly, they transformed into a third pair of orange goggles. “There we go,” she said, handing back his glasses.

“Excellent. Now, what’s the spell?” Harry asked.

Hermione slipped on her goggles, Harry and Ron following suit. Then, with a flick of her wand, all of the lights went out. “Lumos Niger,” Hermione murmured and suddenly a bleak light shined from the tip of Hermione’s wand.

Harry and Ron looked at each other in the light, shrugged, and also murmured, “Lumos Niger.”

“Okay, let’s split up,” Harry said. “Search around for anything that looks peculiar.”

“Right,” Ron murmured and walked away.

It didn’t take long for any of them to find something. The moment Harry took a step, he heard Hermione gasp behind him. “Harry—Ron, come here!” she cried frantically.

Harry turned and shined his light down on what Hermione was looking at and saw exactly what put a terrified sound in her voice. The image on the floor stabbed his heart with fear.

“What is—bloody hell!” Ron yelped, staring down at the faint image of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. “Merlin,” he whispered faintly, “the Dark Mark.”

Hermione gulped. “This proves it. There’s a Death Eater at Hogwarts.”

*****

“The question is, who and why?” Harry said the next day as they were walking across the grounds towards Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures. “Why did they kill a first year, of all people?”

“Because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time?” Ron suggested.

“Or because she was Muggle-born,” Hermione said quietly. “Death Eaters do hate Muggle-borns.”

Both Harry and Ron frowned. Harry could only imagine what was going through her head. On sheer instinct, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Ron frowned again.

Hagrid was standing outside of his hut with Fang at his side, whimpering. There were several small crates beside them. “Gather ‘round!” Hagrid called happily as the class approached. “I got summat special fer yeh!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione each gave each other worried glances. Not far ahead of them, Malfoy said in a quavering voice, “They’re not Blast-Ended Skrewts again, are they?”

“No, no,” Hagrid said with a chuckle. “It’s a project fer yeh all this term. Come on, gather ‘round!”

Harry let go of Hermione as they stepped closer, Ron right with them. Finally they stopped just in front of Hagrid, who was smiling. “In these here crates are some kneazles. Who can tell me about kneazles?”

Hermione, unsurprisingly, raised her hand. “A kneazle is a cat-like creature that can detect suspicious people. Kneazles have been known to make excellent pets for witches and wizards though.”

Hagrid nodded. “Right. I’ve got a bunch of them and this term yer project is to breed them!” he said happily.

“Breed!” Malfoy said incredulously. “You can’t be serious!”

“Well—er—yeah,” Hagrid said. “So—er—yeh’re going to need partners. “So, pair up with someone of the opposite gender.”

Both Harry and Ron instinctively moved toward Hermione. All three of them looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. “Ron! Parvati ’ere needs a partner!” Hagrid called.

Ron went red. Beyond him, Harry could see Parvati scowl. “Right. Well, have fun,” Ron said before turning and joining Parvati.

“Everyone got a partner?” Hagrid asked. “Okay, take one crate marked ‘M’ and another marked ‘F.’ That’s fer ‘male’ and ‘female.’”

“Gee, like we couldn’t figure that out,” Malfoy said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson, who laughed shrilly.

Harry and Hermione walked over to the crates and picked up the appropriate ones. “Okay, got yer kneazles? Good. Now, I’ve got pens set up near the ol’ pumpkin patch. That’s where they’ll be staying. So, go claim a pen and take yer kneazles over to it and put ’em in. Fer this class, we’ll be watchin’ as they become accustomed to each other,” Hagrid said.

Harry and Hermione, along with the rest of the class, carried their crates behind Hagrid’s hut where his pumpkin patch, now covered with snow, usually stood. Next to it were at least a dozen pens.

“This ought to be an interesting project,” Hermione said as she opened her crate and pulled her kneazle out. Harry proceeded to do the same thing with his crate. “Do you think we should name them?”

“Name them?” he asked as they placed their kneazles in the pen. “Er—if you want to.”

“How about Eros and Psyche?” she asked, grinning.

“Sure,” Harry muttered.

Hermione laughed. “You’ve never heard the Greek myth of Eros and Psyche, have you?”

“No, but why don’t you tell me while we watch these two,” Harry suggested, causing Hermione to grin again.

*****

A few days later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were approached by several people, including Luna, Zacharias Smith, Ernie Macmillan, Sinead Cassidy, and Terry Boot. All of them wanted to know when the next D.A. meeting was.

“This upcoming week,” Harry told Sinead in the corridor before lunch on Saturday. “Probably Wednesday.”

“Do you need help letting everybody know? I can make flyers and hang them up,” she said enthusiastically.

“Er—okay,” Harry replied, blinking.

“Great! See you later, Harry!” she said happily, and practically bounced down the marble staircase.

Ron joined him. “Hyper one, isn’t she?”

Harry nodded. “More than Colin and Dennis Creevey combined.”

Ron shuddered. “Quidditch practice Tuesday?”

“Yeah. Time to prepare for Hufflepuff.”

“Great! I’ve been dying to get back on my broom,” Ron said happily.

“You and me both. Hopefully the weather will cooperate,” Harry said.

“I don’t care if my entire body is frozen. I want to practice,” said Ron as they walked down the stairs. “I don’t care if I freeze my bloody ba—”

“Hey you two!” Hermione greeted. She was walking down the stairs behind them. “Just got done with our Herbology essay.”

Ron groaned. “Good feelings are gone…I’ve been reminded of homework.”

Harry chuckled. “Then let’s go fill your stomach with lots of food, shall we?”

Ron perked up. “Food?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Weasleys,” she muttered and marched ahead of them.

*****

The next evening, Ron joined Harry and Hermione in the library as he had to get his Transfiguration essay done. Harry and Hermione were busily working on one of two Potions essays Snape had assigned during the week. Harry was finishing up his first while Hermione was halfway through her second one.

“Teachers are so cruel,” Ron muttered as he crossed out a line in his essay.

“Sorry they make your life so tough,” Hermione muttered distractedly.

Ron shot her a glare. “Just because we’re not geniuses doesn’t mean you—”

“Just shut up, Ron. I’m trying to study,” she said irritably, which wasn’t a big surprise as she and Ron had had a row earlier that day about prefect duties.

Ron grumbled and turned to Harry. “Don’t you think the teachers are cruel?”

“Snape is, that’s for sure,” Harry replied.

Ron shot a triumphant look at Hermione, but she was too busy looking through a book to notice. Ron sighed and went back to work.

Eventually they all finished the essays they were working on and decided to head back up to the common room. Just as they were heading down a corridor on the seventh floor, however, they heard a voice floating from around the corner, a voice that made Harry inwardly groan.

“Since when have you been allowed to post flyers up in the corridors?” came the voice of Mara Frost. “I remember that they are strictly for House notice boards.”

“But this is to inform everyone about the next D.A. meeting,” came the earnest voice of Sinead Cassidy. Unwittingly, Harry marched forward to defend her, Ron and Hermione right along with him.

“The D.A.? Do you mean that little group Potter put together? The group that defied the Ministries decrees last year?” Frost said sharply.

“Er—I think so. Yes, ma’am,” Sinead replied.

“Then I’m afraid that those flyers are extremely forbidden,” Frost snapped. “Dispose of them.”

“But—but—” Sinead sputtered.

“Do you want me to do it for you?” Frost asked.

“You can’t do that,” Hermione said as she, Harry, and Ron rounded the corner to see Frost towering over a shaking Sinead. “We’re allowed to post flyers around school for clubs and such.”

Frost glowered. “Oh really? Since when has that been in effect?”

“Since Dumbledore allowed it in 1980. Teachers and prefects are aware of this, as are students. I’m surprised that you aren’t, Miss Frost,” Hermione said coolly.

“I left Hogwarts in 1978,” Frost spat. “It’s a stupid change to the rules. Litters the corridors and promotes stupid club—clubs that promote violence, like your little Defense club.”

“Funny, I haven’t seen any one of our members dueling in the hallways,” Harry said loudly, causing Frost to turn her icy eyes on him.

“That’s because you’re too incompetent to train them,” she retorted harshly.

“How dare you!” Hermione cried, indignant.

“Oh can it, Mudblood,” Frost spat vilely, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s eyes to go wide. Frost let out a slight scream of frustration. “Fine, put up your damn flyers! See if I bloody care!” With that, she stalked away.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Sinead watched her go. Sinead gulped. “Maybe I shouldn’t hang any more of these up,” she said sadly.

“No, don’t let that hag scare you. That’s what she wants,” Harry said angrily. “Go finish putting the rest of them up.” Sinead looked terrified, but she nodded and left all the same.

Hermione was still staring down the corridor where Frost had just been. She looked as angry as she had been the day she slapped Malfoy three years prior for insulting Hagrid. “I should report her,” she said in a deadly whisper.

“And provoke her even more?” Ron asked. “I’d rather just stay out of her way. I can’t believe she called you a Mudblood.”

Hermione frowned. “Neither can I. What did I ever do to her?”

Harry frowned too. He hoped it wasn’t for the reason he thought of and he didn’t want to voice that thought to Ron or Hermione either. But his mind kept repeating over and over, Because you’re my friend. It was a thought that would keep Harry awake later that night long after everyone else had fell asleep.

Author’s Note: Happy New Year’s everyone! Since you guys had to wait for the last chapter for so long, I thought the best way to make up for it was to get this chapter out as quick as I could, so here it is. Merci beaucoup as always to my betas, Nitya and Kalie. Here’s hoping everyone has a wonderful 2005.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE LETTER

Sun shined through the window in the boys’ dormitory the next morning, causing Harry to rouse and groan in irritation. He had been having a nice dream about a picnic he was sharing with a brown-haired girl whose face he could never fully see. He was very curious as to whom this person was and he was getting very close to finding out when the bright light of the sun awoke him. He rolled over and tried as hard as he could to fall back to sleep.

“Harry, wake up! We’ve got to go to class!” Ron said loudly.

Harry groaned again. Why did it have to be Monday?

“Come on, mate, up!” Ron said again.

Harry flung back his covers and muttered, “I’m up, I’m up,” before stretching.

“You’ve only got five minutes before breakfast, so get moving okay? I’ll see you down in the Great Hall,” Ron said as Harry shuffled out of bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he said sleepily as Ron turned and left. Harry felt very tempted to collapse back onto his bed and try to dream about that picnic again, but instead he moved over to his trunk and pulled out a pair of school robes before getting dressed.

Ten minutes later, he slumped into the Great Hall and sat down next to Ron as Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet.

“Anything interesting?” he asked Hermione, gesturing to the paper in her hands.

“Not really, unless you count this ridiculous article by Rita Skeeter on how Voldemort might be funding his army,” she replied.

“Oh? What does that she-devil have to say?” Ron asked over his bowl of cereal.

Hermione sat the paper down so that Harry and Ron could see as she read along:

You-Know-Who and His Monetary Sources

You-Know-Who has quite the large army, Aurors say—an army full of wizard soldiers (called Death Eaters), vampires, dementors of Azkaban, and even perhaps giants (writes Rita Skeeter). What Aurors don’t tell us is how You-Know-Who is paying all of them. Surely the vampires, dementors, and giants would not work for free. What has You-Know-Who offered them? Perhaps he has offered the vampires and giants plenty of human snacks, which seems reasonable for them. Perhaps he has offered souls to the dementors, which would obviously bring them in his favor, but what about his soldiers? Surely they are not there out of desire. They must be there to make gold, but how?

It is my firm conclusion that a Gringotts worker under You-Know-Who’s control is smuggling gold out from the safest bank in the world and giving it to You-Know-Who and with that money, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gaining power. But who could possibly be the Gringotts worker under his control?

“The goblins,” curse breaker Jeremiah Palmer told this reporter last week. “They control all the money.”

Could the goblins be working for You-Know-Who? They have always known to be anti-wizard and it seems very likely that they would do whatever they could to annihilate the wizarding race.

“We’ve got to do something about those little buggers,” Palmer said. “They could be the ones killing us next.”

This reporter believes it is time the Ministry took a look into this.

“Goblins?” Harry murmured. “She thinks goblins are funding Voldemort?”

“She’s just trying to discriminate against them,” Hermione said furiously. “Anybody with a brain knows that Voldemort gets his money from his supporters, who pay him out of fear.”

“It’s completely bullocks,” Ron agreed. “Bill’s told me loads of times that goblins would never align with You-Know-Who because they’re too smart and would see right past his lies.”

“I bet the rest of the world believes her though,” Hermione said darkly.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “There’ll be a story in tomorrow’s paper about Fudge deciding to investigate.” He rolled his eyes.

Harry sighed. “Well, at least she’s writing about the war now and not slandering innocent people.”

“Voldemort’s bigger news right now,” Hermione muttered. “I’d bet that if you were to get tossed back into the spotlight, Harry, she’d write some horrible story about you.”

“Let her. We’ll see how much I care,” Harry replied, finishing off his cereal.

“That’s the spirit, Harry,” Ron said with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Come on, we’d better hurry up or we’ll be late for class. I don’t know about you, but I really enjoyed the last class. Human—”

“Hermione, please don’t,” Ron murmured as the three got up from the Gryffindor table, grabbed up their bags, and walked out of the Great Hall. “I don’t want to hear the words ‘enjoy’ and ‘class’ in the same sentence for at least a week.”

Hermione sighed. “If you possessed a love of learning you would understand where I’m coming from.”

“This is why I’m seriously surprised the Sorting Hat decided against putting you in Ravenclaw,” Ron said as they climbed the marble stairs. “You’re as much of a homework-hugger as the rest of them.”

“Which isn’t a bad thing,” Harry amended for Ron, before Hermione could say anything.

“No, it’s not as bad as being a power-hungry jackal, like the Slytherins,” Ron said. “Could you imagine the Sorting Hat thinking about putting you in there?”

Harry tensed slightly and frowned. He remembered, quite clearly, the day he was sorted and how the Sorting Hat had considered placing him in Slytherin. It was one of the secrets he held deep inside him that he never wanted Ron or Hermione to know.

“Not all Slytherins are bad, Ron,” Hermione was saying. “Blaise Zabini for example—he seems like an okay person.”

Ron frowned. “That’s one bloke who has his ambitions. What about the others? Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Nott, Montague, Bletchley…loads of them!”

Hermione frowned but didn’t say anything. It was apparent that Ron had made his point. Ron must have seen it too, for he said, “There, you see?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You didn’t prove your point, Ron.”

Ron gaped. “Yes I did!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh yes, I did.”

“No, you most certainly did not.”

“Y—”

“Let it go, Ron,” Harry muttered.

Ron scowled. He refused to speak to either Harry or Hermione until Defense Against the Dark Arts class, when Lupin said, “I’ve got excellent news! I was able to attain a boggart in a trunk. We can now practice our Patronus Charms properly.”

Ron gulped. “Properly?” he whispered to Harry.

“It’ll be alright,” Harry murmured. “That thing will have to be a dementor, not a spider.”

“Oh great, that helps me so much,” Ron muttered sourly.

“Harry, if you would come up here, please?” Lupin called.

Harry got up and walked to the front of the classroom, where Lupin pulled him aside. “Yes, Professor?”

“Do you still fear dementors above all else?” he asked quietly.

“Well…I’m not sure. I don’t really think so. I know I can defeat them, after all, but they still do creep me out sometimes,” he admitted. “I don’t like the feeling they give me.”

“I don’t blame you,” Lupin said. “I need you to do me a favor, Harry. I need you to focus on your fear of dementors and I’d like you to stand close to that trunk next to my desk, okay? A dementor must come out of that trunk every time, so everyone can practice.”

Inwardly, he was groaning. “Okay,” he murmured.

“Great! Thank you, Harry! I’ll have a block of chocolate standing by, don’t worry,” Lupin said as Harry walked over next to the trunk.

“Harry here will be standing next to the trunk, ensuring that a dementor comes out every time,” Lupin announced to the class. “Now, who would like to go—”

“What? Is Potter’s greatest fear a dementor?” Malfoy said, sniggering.

“Fearing a dementor is nothing to snicker at, Mr. Malfoy,” Lupin said coolly. “A dementor is fear, and by fearing it most, you show that you fear nothing as much as you fear fear itself. Not Death Eaters, not Dark Lords.”

There was a slight murmuring throughout the class after Lupin has said that, all of which ceased when Lupin asked, “Who will go first?”

No one wanted to go, it was obvious. Everyone in the class sat rigidly in their seats, staring at the trunk next to Lupin’s desk. Finally, Ron raised his hand slightly.

“Excellent. Thank you, Ron,” Lupin said with a smile. “Don’t worry, it won’t be that bad. This isn’t a real dementor after all.”

It was apparent by the look on Ron’s face that he did not find that at all comforting, but he got up just the same and stood in front of the trunk, his wand in his hands.

“Go ahead and summon a happy thought,” Lupin said. “Take your time.”

Ron sighed and Harry silently prayed. Please let him produce a Patronus, please! He didn’t want Ron to flounder; he didn’t want all of the Slytherins to laugh like they did at Neville the previous week. He wanted Ron to succeed.

“Have your happy thought?” Lupin asked and Ron reluctantly nodded. “Very well then. Harry, if you could open the trunk?”

Harry stepped forward and undid the latch before pulling open the lid and stepping back as the huge form of a dementor floated up out of the trunk. Ron inhaled sharply.

Concentrate, Harry thought at Ron. Concentrate!

The dementor loomed in front of Ron, sucking all of the warmth out of the room. Harry could see Ron turning pale. “Come on, say it,” Harry whispered under his breath.

Ron raised his wand. “Expecto Patronum!” Whips of a silver substance drifted up from the end of his wand. “Expecto Patronum!” he yelled, more forcefully. The substance solidified somewhat. “Expecto Patronum!” More of the silver gas shot out of the end, causing the dementor to pause slightly.

“Concentrate harder,” Harry whispered.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Ron bellowed and suddenly a silver seal erupted from the tip of his wand and floated towards the dementor, causing it to back away, back into the trunk, where Harry and Lupin pushed the trunk lid down, trapping the boggart inside.

Harry turned back to Ron and placed a hand on his shoulder as they both watched the seal float around the room and fade. “That was fantastic, Ron,” Harry said, grinning.

“Very much so,” Lupin said, also grinning as he held out a chunk of chocolate. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Ron accepted the chocolate, his face still pale. “Thanks,” he said weakly and sat back down.

*****

The next afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Quidditch team were pulling on their Quidditch robes for their first day of practice since Harry called it off nearly a month prior. He knew that they would be rusty, but he was ready to work, in hopes that would be ready for the Hufflepuff match, which was more than a month away. Plenty of time to get back into shape, in Harry’s opinion. Ron, however, seemed to disagree.

“We’re going to need to practice every single day to get back into shape,” he said as they walked out onto the pitch, carrying the crate. “Today won’t be pleasant. There’s going to be a lot of rough spots.”

“I know,” Harry said calmly as a chilling wind howled. Ahead of him, he saw Katie shiver. “We’ll be fine.”

“D’you really think so?”

Harry looked at him for a moment. “Yes. We’ll be as good, if not better, than we were before. I want the Quidditch Cup.”

Ron nodded. “Good.”

On the field, Harry was sad, but not surprised, to see that Ron was correct. The two that were the rustiest were his Beaters, Alex McGuire and Andrew Kirke. Andrew missed a Bludger that nearly knocked Ginny right off her broom.

“Careful Andrew!” Harry yelled, flying by. “We don’t want to kill our goal scorers!”

Andrew looked rather sheepish as he flew away. Over by the goal posts, Ron hovered in front of them as the Chasers did conversions and tried to score. Ron was doing very well—not showing many signs of being rusty at all—blocking several of the difficult shots.

“You’ll have to try better than that!” he taunted as Ginny tried to score against him.

“Sod off, Ronald Bilius Weasley!” she called back.

“Wench!”

“Baboon!”

“Ah, siblings,” Katie murmured with a grin as she pulled up alongside Harry. “I just wanted to let you know, Harry, to keep your eyes and ears sharp for information about the boys versus girls Quidditch match. If you don’t make the boys’ team, I’ll be highly surprised, because Malfoy and Summerby have nothing on you.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks.”

An hour later, Harry called it quits. “Good practice today. We need to work on some stuff though. We’ll do that Thursday.”

By the time Harry, Ron, and Ginny made it back to the castle, it was dinnertime. Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table, talking to, surprisingly, Luna Lovegood. Ron groaned.

“Thank you, Hermione,” she said vaguely as they drew nearer. “Hello Ronald. Good practice?”

“Er—”

“I wasn’t bad. How are you, Luna?” Ginny asked.

“Very good,” she replied and looked wistfully over at her own table. “I better get back. See you later.”

“What did she want?” Ron asked moodily when he sat down next to Hermione.

“She wanted to know what time the prefect meeting was Friday night,” Hermione answered airily.

“Prefect meeting? There’s a prefect meeting Friday night?”

“Yes. If you had gone to the last one, you would know,” Hermione said testily, scooping up some mashed potatoes and plopping them down on her plate. “Honestly, you act as though it will kill you to go to one.”

“Who knows, it just might,” Ron said, dishing up some meatloaf. “I have better things to do then to be bored for hours on end.”

“Like what?”

“Quidditch practice,” Ron replied.

Hermione looked over at Harry. “You’ve scheduled practice for Friday evening?”

“I—er—OW!” He glared at Ron, who had just stamped on his foot, hard. “I was thinking about it.”

Hermione frowned. “Nice try, Ron.”

He groaned. “Come on, Hermione. Don’t make me go.”

“I can’t make you do anything. I’m not your mother,” she said.

“Thank God,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Hermione scowled. “You’re impossible!”

Ron gave a sardonic grin. “Thank you.”

Hermione gave a growl of frustration and lapsed into silence. Ron, apparently happy, turned to Harry and started to talk about Quidditch, but Harry wasn’t paying much attention to him. He instead was watching Hermione, wishing there was something he could do to make her less upset and to not make Ron upset in the process. Sometimes he hated being the friend in the middle.

*****

After dinner, he felt like he was in the middle again, only this time it was between two different people.

“You went off and got yourself a new boyfriend quick enough!” Dean Thomas yelled at Ginny. “Is that why you broke up with me?”

“Oh, you’re going to pin this on me when it’s you who acted I was like your mother! You are insufferable!” Ginny snarled.

“I never treated you like my mother!” Dean retorted.

“Yeah right! Letters every week over the summer! Always forcing me to focus my attention on you!” Ginny screamed.

“What’s so wrong with writing to my girlfriend over the summer?” he snapped back.

“You were smothering me!” she said.

“You’re afraid to commit,” Dean spat. “I wonder how Finch-Fletchley deals with you.”

And suddenly, Ginny slapped him and called him something rather unpleasant before stalking away. Dean touched his cheek and looked around. There were several people in the common room, all staring at him. “Oh sod off, all of you!” he muttered and stomped away to the boys’ dormitories.

Harry heard Colin Creevey say to his younger brother Dennis not too far away, “Note to self: Never piss Ginny Weasley off.” Harry couldn’t more heartily agree.

Another fifth year boy was saying to his friend, “You know, I think Dean’s cool and all, but go Ginny.”

Hermione was frowning. “It’s a shame. Dean is an attentive boyfriend, but Ginny’s far too independent to be saddled for too long.”

“He was smothering her,” Ron said, also frowning.

“Probably not, but to Ginny, he was. Oh well,” she murmured and walked away.

Ron turned to Harry, who shrugged. “I hate it when she does that.”

*****

The next morning, Harry woke up bright and early; the first thing coming to his mind was the fact that the D.A. meeting was to happen that night. Again he felt the familiar nervous jolt shoot through his stomach and he lay in bed, quietly pondering what he could teach that night. Finally, when he settled on something, he rolled out of bed and got dressed. Then, checking his watch, he decided to go down to the Great Hall so he could get an early start on his day. But when he reached the top of the marble staircase, he heard two familiar voices that made him stop.

“I am deeply surprised that you are telling me this, Firenze,” came the voice of Albus Dumbledore.

“It is a thank you for continuing to give me shelter as my own kind will no longer,” Firenze replied. “Even though I am no longer teaching the students here how to properly interpret the stars.”

“The honor is more mine,” Dumbledore said. “So you have seen this in the stars?”

“Yes. Mars is particularly visible. It is certain. There will be much more bloodshed throughout this land,” Firenze said gravely.

“Did perhaps the stars tell you where?” Dumbledore asked.

“No. The stars do not give such information, but it is soon,” Firenze replied.

Harry knew that Dumbledore was frowning. “Thank you very much, Firenze.”

Firenze said nothing, but Harry heard the distinct clip-clop of him walking away. Harry waited a minute or so in order for enough time to pass so that it would not seem that he had overheard the conversation before walking down the marble stairs. Dumbledore was gone.

Harry entered the deserted Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table before burying his face in his hands and brooding. Eventually, about a half-hour later, he was interrupted when Joaquin Crow walked into the Great Hall.

“Mr. Potter, once again you are up early,” Crow said, tilting his head to the side. “Are you that hungry?”

Harry actually chuckled somewhat. “No. I just needed someplace quiet.”

Crow looked around. “The Great Hall? This is not a place one usually finds quiet.” He walked over and sat down next to Harry. “What is troubling you, mi chico?”

Harry frowned. “Have you ever thought, as an Auror, that you may die in this war?”

Crow also frowned. “Everyone can die in this war—Aurors, wizards, Muggles, Death Eaters…There is no certainty who will live and who will die.”

“Are you afraid to die?” Harry asked him.

Crow placed a hand on his shoulder in a rather fatherly manner. “Are you?” he countered.

“No,” Harry said defiantly, making Crow grin.

“It’s okay to be afraid of death, I think. A nice dose of it keeps you on your toes, no?” His grin grew wider.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You sound rather brave. How come you weren’t in Gryffindor?”

Crow laughed. “Those fools who love bravado? Er—no offense.”

Harry laughed. “None taken.”

Crow shook his head. “I enjoyed learning. I liked having the ability have a few small tricks up my sleeve when needed. Ravenclaw is a fine House.”

“They’re all fine Houses,” Harry said, but then added, “Except for perhaps Slytherin.”

Crow laughed, his eyes full of mirth. “Slytherins are not as bad as you think, Mr. Potter. I knew quite a few of them during my days here—knew them well.”

“You had Slytherin friends?”

“Sí. If you can get over their competitive natures, they can become very good friends,” Crow told him.

“I somehow find that unbelievable,” Harry murmured. “From what I’ve seen they’re more prone to backstabbing than being best mates.”

“I find that Slytherins aren’t so trusting, but once you gain their trust, you won’t find so much ‘backstabbing,’ as you put it,” Crow said.

He grinned again. “So, I hear your Defense club is meeting again this evening.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, in Professor Lupin’s room.”

“I may have to drop by for a little while to see how good of a teacher you are. Your dueling skills are, around here, legendary.” He smirked. “You’ve taken on full-grown wizards…Death Eaters…”

“Not by choice,” Harry retorted. “It was out of necessity.”

One of the Auror’s cultured eyebrows arched. “Yes, I do look forward to watching you this evening.” He looked up to see the first trickle of students walking into the Great Hall. “Well, I must be on my way—can’t be late to my morning meeting. Adiós.”

“Adiós,” Harry replied, grinning.

*****

The day went on without incident and soon Harry found himself walking up with Ron and Hermione to Professor Lupin’s classroom after dinner, ready to introduce a new spell to his “students.” Harry cringed—he didn’t like thinking about them as his students.

“You okay, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“What? Oh—I’m fine,” Harry assured her with a slight smile as they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor.

When they reached the classroom, Ron pulled open the door and they stepped inside to see Crow and Frost standing in the middle of the room talking in what seemed to be forcefully calm voices.

“You understand that this group you’re so interested in seeing was illegal last year,” Frost was saying.

“But it’s not this year, Mara. Professor Lupin supervises the club. It’s quite legal,” Crow replied.

“It’s stupid,” Frost spat. “These children will think they’re trained well enough to take on Death Eaters, and only Aurors are trained well enough—” She abruptly cut herself off when she noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing at the door. “You’re early,” she said sharply.

Harry looked down at his watch and, with a jolt, saw that the face was glowing red. “Just a little,” he replied, trying to keep his cool.

Crow rushed forward with a jovial smile. “Come in, Mr. Potter. Mara and I were just having a little discussion about the D.A.”

“I heard,” Harry replied snidely.

Crow put an arm around him and ushered him inside, Ron and Hermione following along behind them. “Mara likes keeping things legal,” Crow explained. “She doesn’t want to put any of you in danger either.” He dropped his arm.

Frost came up next to him. “What will you show them this evening?” she asked.

“Er—the Full Body Bind and the Leg-Locker Curse,” Harry replied.

“I hope that you’ll have cushions for the people who fall,” Frost said disdainfully.

“I can help you there, Mr. Potter,” Crow said happily and took out his wand before waving it around. Suddenly, several plump purple cushions appeared.

Harry smiled. “Thanks!”

“De nada,” Crow replied. “Now, Mara, don’t you have to go patrol?”

Frost scowled. “You do too, so don’t take too long socializing.”

He gave a slight bow. “Do not worry; I won’t be here for long.”

Frost gave one final icy look at Harry before turning on her heel and walking out the door. Ron shivered. “That woman gives me the creeps.”

Crow laughed. “You’re not the only one, Mr. Weasley. Mara is very…”

“Bitchy?” Ron finished for him.

Crow laughed again. “I could never say that about a colleague.”

“It’s okay—we won’t tell,” Ron said, grinning.

“Won’t tell what?” came Lupin’s voice from the doorway.

“Oh, nothing serious, Professor,” Harry said, also grinning.

“Mr. Crow,” Lupin greeted. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your esteemed company?”

“I have come to watch Mr. Potter conduct his D.A. lessons. I find them rather fascinating,” Crow replied.

“If I recall, you were never one who particularly loved the Dark Arts, which was why I was very surprised to hear that you became an Auror,” Lupin said.

“Not the Dark Arts, but the defense against them,” Crow said as students began to file into the room. “All wizards should know how to defend themselves.”

Lupin smiled. “I couldn’t agree more.” He turned to Harry. “Well, it’s all yours. Teach them.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said and took his place in the front of the room, watching as people walked in. Ginny walked in with Luna Lovegood…Neville with Seamus and Dean…Lavender and the Patil twins…Hunter, Ally, Dylan, and their friend Laura…Siobhan Cassidy…

Harry frowned. Where was Siobhan’s older sister, Sinead? He was surprised to see the younger sister all alone, considering how much Sinead wanted to come to the meeting.

He pushed his thoughts aside as everyone looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. “Good evening,” he greeted them. “Tonight I thought it would be good to learn both the Leg-Locker Curse and the Full Body Bind. Both can be useful in a duel. So, partner up. We’ll start with the Leg-Locker Curse. The incantation is ‘Locomotor Mortis.’ And, to show you how it works...Hermione, would you come here please?”

Hermione looked rather nervous, but she walked up to the front just the same. “Yes?”

“Hermione’s going to demonstrate the Leg-Locker Curse by using it on me,” Harry said before turning towards her.

Hermione’s eyes widened before she took out her wand and sighed. “Locomotor Mortis!” she cried and instantly Harry felt his legs spring together. He fought to keep balance.

“You see? A perfect Leg-Locker Curse. Now go ahead and try it yourselves,” he instructed and then muttered, “If you would, Hermione?”

She waved her wand and his legs snapped apart again. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you,” he said with a grin.

He went around the room, watching and correcting people trying the curse. The cushions Crow had provided were very useful as several people toppled over, unable to keep their balance.

Crow walked over to Harry, grinning. “This is very good. I am impressed. Sadly, I must go now. Enjoy the rest of the meeting.”

“Oh, I’m sure we will. Thanks for dropping by,” Harry said, also grinning.

Harry finished off the evening teaching everyone the Full Body Bind, something that went over much better than Harry had expected. Then, with smiles on their faces, everyone filed out, saying good-bye to Harry as they went.

“That was rather productive,” Ron commented as he and Hermione joined Harry. Ron was rubbing his shoulder. “Neville got me good.”

“Neville’s gotten good,” Hermione replied.

Harry nodded and stuck his hands inside his robe pockets and got quite the shock, which obviously showed on his face. “What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry turned. “See you later, Professor!” he called and began to walk quickly to the door.

“Bye you three,” Lupin called, waving.

In the corridor, Harry pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. “What’s that?” Ron asked.

“I dunno. I didn’t put it in my pocket,” Harry said, opening it up. He read it quickly and felt his stomach plummet and his face pale.

“Harry?”

“Oh God,” Harry whispered, looking at the parchment.

“What?”

“It’s a letter,” Harry breathed, “from Voldemort.”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other for a moment before rushing over to read the letter in Harry’s hands.

Potter,

You have disappointed me greatly. I would have expected more out of a “hero,” but it is obvious that you are no hero. Either that or you are stupider than I thought. I thought that you would care a little more about that pathetic Mudblood girl that died, but obviously you don’t. Maybe my attack on you during your Quidditch match has addled your tiny brain. No matter, we shall see if you care. At 9:00 sharp, another pathetic Mudblood will be stabbed by my faithful servant. Find her—and save her—if you can.

“Oh God,” Hermione breathed. “No—it can’t be…”

Harry was thinking frantically. “Ron—go to the dormitory and get the Marauder’s Map. Use it to find us.”

“Right,” Ron said, running.

“Hermione—if you were to murder someone in this school, where would you go to do it?” Harry asked.

“I dunno—er—the dungeons?”

“Right. Let’s try there,” Harry said, checking his watch. 8:55.

He and Hermione took off, running as fast as they could, down corridors, down stairs, and through shortcuts until they were finally running along in the dungeons. Harry glanced at his watch again. 8:59.

“Which one?” he growled, fear rising into his heart.

And suddenly, he heard a scream that made his blood chill. He automatically glanced at this watch. 9:00. “No!” he breathed.

“This way, Harry!” Hermione called, running. They turned a corner and ran.

“Which door?” Harry cried when they reached the end of the hall.

“I don’t know!”

“Try all of them!” he ordered, turning the first doorknob. It was locked. He growled. “Alohomora!” he cried and suddenly, the knob turned and the door opened. Nothing.

Behind him, Hermione had her wand out and she shouted, “Alohomora!” Harry turned. “Nothing,” she groaned.

Harry turned to the final door. He pulled out his wand.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, “what if the attacker’s still in there?”

Harry paused. “You take left and I’ll take right,” Harry said before shouting, “Alohomora!” The door unlocked and Harry kicked it open, turning to the right and scanning the room in the dim lighting, but no one was there, save one, a girl lying on the floor, blood surrounding her. Harry dropped his wand and rushed over to her side and, with horror, immediately recognized her.

“Sinead,” he murmured. She was still breathing; she was still alive.

Her eyes, so cloudy looking, looked up at him. “Harry,” she gasped.

“Hermione! Go get help!” Hermione was gone in a blink of an eye. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t…” Her breath was becoming more labored. “I…don’t…know.”

“Where did your attacker go?” Harry asked.

“I…don’t…know. Left.”

“But we didn’t see anybody on the way down,” Harry murmured. “What did your attacker look like?”

“Don’t…know…wore a…mask.”

“Do you remember anything?”

She coughed. “The eyes…such…blue…eyes.” She gave a shuddering gasp as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Sinead, no! Stay with me!” he cried, clutching her hand, but it was too late, he knew. He placed his fingers on her neck and felt nothing. “Dammit!” He let her hand go and placed his head in his hands.

He should have been there in time to save her. It was his fault that she was dead—Voldemort had her murdered because of him. It was his fault.

There were footsteps coming his way. Suddenly, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Lupin and Snape were there along with Madam Pomfrey, Ron, and Hermione. He heard both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey gasp.

“She’s dead,” Harry said quietly, in a voice not his own.

Madam Pomfrey rushed over, as if to confirm it for herself.

“Did she mention anything about her attacker before she died?” Dumbledore asked.

“She couldn’t see him,” Harry replied, his voice dead. “He wore a mask.”

He could tell that the other professors were looking at each other in alarm. “How did you know she was down here?” Snape asked.

Harry felt suddenly angry. “What does it matter? I was too late to save her.” He then looked directly at Dumbledore. “I told you I wasn’t any better than him. I can’t stop him.” Then, without another glance any of them, Harry fled. He didn’t even notice Ron and Hermione follow him.

“Harry, wait!” Hermione called.

He stilled, feeling anger and guilt tear through his body. Hermione came to his side, as did Ron. “Harry…” Hermione began.

“I killed her,” Harry whispered fiercely. “She’s dead because of me. I killed her.”

“Harry, no…”

He looked down at his hands and felt sickened to see the blood on them. With a strangled cry, he ran away as fast as he could—away from Ron and Hermione, away from the dungeons, away from the horror he had just seen until he found himself running in front of the same stretch of wall on the seventh floor three times, when a door appeared. He opened it up and ran inside, before collapsing on the floor and letting his anguish and guilt consume him.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m going back to college tomorrow, so I thought I had better get the next chapter up before I return to class. Let me warn you all right now that I may not be able to update for awhile—I’m sorry. School means homework, papers, and studying…in other words, a busy RL. I’ll make as much time for this story as I can, but there are no guarantees. I’d like to thank you all for your reviews (I always enjoy reading them) and also, thanks to Nitya and Kalie for checking this chapter over.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE DARKNESS WITHIN

He did not return to the common room until after he was sure everyone was at their first lesson the next morning. He had remained in the Room of Requirement for the whole night, staring at a wall, reliving the moment when he found the younger Ravenclaw in the dungeon. Somewhere along the line, his imagination took control and in his mind’s eye he could see a dark figure with a knife stabbing her. Sleep eluded him. He could tell that his eyes were bloodshot as he walked down the corridor to the Fat Lady.

“Where have you been?” she asked. “Merlin—how did you get blood on your robes?”

Harry looked down and examined his robes. The blood that stained them was now dry, as was the blood on his hands. “Fool’s gold,” he murmured. The Fat Lady sighed, but admitted him.

The common room, as he expected, was quite empty. One thought crossed his mind: Must get the blood off. He walked up to the boys’ bathroom, stripped, and stepped into one of the stone showers before turning the nozzle and letting steaming hot water hit him. He did not feel the heat, though; he was too preoccupied by his own thoughts and emotions.

So it was clear: June Winters died because of him, and now Sinead Cassidy had too. Voldemort had them murdered to do what? Attract his attention? Harry leaned against one of the stone walls. Voldemort had his attention from the very moment Harry had learned that he had murdered his parents. He could see their faces floating in front of him—his parents, Cedric, Sirius, June, and Sinead…people who had died because of him. Cedric, June, and Sinead were just innocent bystanders; Sirius and his parents died to protect him, something that could have been avoided had that prophecy be never made.

He swore viciously. He wasn’t anybody special. He was just an ordinary young man, a young man that was cursed because of something a Seer saw and one of Voldemort’s minions had overheard. Had that inn been more protected when Dumbledore went to go meet with Trelawney, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

But he was in that mess. There was no changing the past. There was nothing he could do. And now he had a destiny to achieve—to become a murderer or to die. He already felt like a murderer.

Maybe if he died now the world would be safer.

His mind scoffed at him. Yes, the world would be much safer if Voldemort runs free, unchallenged, with no one to stop him. No, he had to remain alive, to defeat Voldemort. But the question was: how many people would die because of him?

He cleaned himself up and turned off the water before stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and groaned. His eyes were indeed bloodshot after staying up the entire night and his five o’clock shadow appeared to have come in ages ago. His face was, if possible, paler than Malfoy’s.

He walked back to his dormitory and pulled on a pair of boxers and a bulky tee-shirt that used to belong to Dudley before crawling into bed. He needed to sleep, but he was afraid to. He was afraid of what he might dream. Eventually, exhaustion won out and his eyes drifted closed.

*****

“Boy, he looks awful.”

“D’you think we should alert one of the professors?”

“No. He doesn’t look sick.”

“D’you think this has anything to do with that girl dying last night?”

“I dunno. Dumbledore didn’t say who found her, or how she died.”

“I can’t believe someone else is dead.”

“Me neither.”

Harry opened his eyes to find Dean and Seamus at the foot of his four poster talking. He looked out the window and saw that the sun was setting.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Seamus said indifferently when he noticed Harry. “You’ve been here all day?” Harry grunted. “Guess so. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Harry snapped. He hauled himself out of bed and rummaged through his trunk for some clothes to wear.

“Did you hear that another girl has died?” Dean asked. Again, Harry grunted. “What d’you think is going on here?”

“A war,” Harry replied flatly, pulling out a jumper and a pair of blue jeans.

“Here?”

“Everywhere,” Harry said.

“Hermione’s been looking for you,” Seamus told him. “She’s been worried sick all day.”

Harry paused. “Where is she now?”

“Looking for you, last I saw,” Dean replied. “Ron was with her, but he had to go off to Quidditch practice. Maybe he was hoping that you’d be there.”

“They never even thought to check the dorm,” Seamus murmured.

“Too obvious,” Dean said.

Harry pulled his jumper over his head before grabbing his shoes and putting them on. Then, when he was ready, he crossed over to the dormitory door.

“Where are you going?” Seamus asked.

“Nowhere,” Harry replied, pulling open the door and leaving.

No one who would bother him was in the common room, but he felt the stares of many as he walked through it and to the portrait hole. Once outside, he walked down the corridor, his only thought telling him to flee.

He found his way back to the Room of Requirement—for some odd reason he felt he could truly be alone there—but he wanted something to do, something that would take his mind off of the terrible feelings inside of him.

When the door appeared, he opened it to find lumber everywhere and a worktable sitting in the middle of the room. Frowning, he stepped up to it and saw something that amazed him—the blueprints to the broom the Marauders were going to make—the Phoenix. And sitting next to it was the list of spells Lupin had given him to help him on his way.

He looked around. Next to the table was a stack of books with titles like Broomstick Carving for the Obsessed and Speed and Agility: How to Properly Shape Twigs. He picked up the book on broomstick carving before settling down on the floor and beginning to read. By the time he finished, he looked at his watch to see that it was 3:00 in the morning.

“How about a place to sleep?” he asked the room. He wasn’t entirely sleepy, but the rational part of his mind urged him to get back to normal sleeping habits.

The room seemed to shimmer in acknowledgement and suddenly, a small cot appeared by the rear wall. Harry grimaced. It didn’t look too comfortable, but he didn’t care. He gratefully crawled into it and relaxed, but the moment he did, every feeling he had been trying to avoid came crashing back to him…anger, guilt and sorrow. He rolled over. It was going to be a long night. By the time he fell asleep nearly an hour later, he could once again see Sinead Cassidy being stabbed by an unknown assailant in a black hood, something which continued to plague him in his dreams, and when he awoke in the morning, a cold sweat had dampened his bangs and his hands felt clammy. He shivered involuntarily as he tried to shake the image of blood.

He crawled out of the cot and immediately felt his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten for an entire day and he briefly toyed with the idea of going to the kitchens and enlisting Dobby’s help, but before he even took a step towards the door, a plate of eggs appeared on the worktable. Silently thanking the room, he crossed over to the table and picked up the plate.

“Could use a fork,” he murmured and suddenly one appeared on the table, as did a goblet of orange juice.

He ate and drank until he lost all desire for food and drink and the room apparently recognized this, for the plate, fork, and goblet vanished. Harry looked around at the lumber and the blueprints, deciding on what to do first. Finally, he took a rather thick log and dropped it onto the worktable before examining the blueprints. Then, he got to work, taking out his wand and uttering spells in order to trim and shape the wood. It took a better part of an hour, but when he was done, he stood before a rather rough-looking broomstick shaft.

Consulting the blueprints again, he thought, What I could really use is a piece of sand paper. Then, right next to the broomstick, a 6x6 inch piece of sand paper appeared. He picked it up and began to sand down the shaft, mildly irritated at the room’s ability to hear his thoughts.

You provide so much, he thought savagely, but you can’t bring those girls back to life. You can’t bring Sirius back, or my parents, or Cedric. You can’t stop the pain. You can’t make me lose the knowledge that they’re dead because of me. You can’t end my suffering! He threw down the piece of sand paper and fell to his knees panting. You’re just a room that provides simple, trivial things that don’t help anyone at all!

The room did not react. Harry growled in frustration. It was apparent that the room didn’t take offense to his mental onslaught, which was just as well. Harry really didn’t want to lose his supplies.

He sighed. Was this how his life was to be—pain, death, and misery? Did he have nothing to look forward to in his life? He shifted and sat, brooding. Closing his eyes, he searched within himself for some lingering form of happiness, a memory that would make him smile, but every memory he thought of only seemed more dismal. He saw the Dursleys frowning at him, dementors swarming ever closer, his godfather falling back through the veil…

“NOOOOO!” he howled; his eyes opened to the dark room and he discovered he was shaking. He jumped back up and the room lightened a little as he launched himself back at the worktable, throwing all of his energy and emotions into his work. Within time, the shaft was completely sanded and he turned his attention to the twigs that would make up the broom’s tail.

He worked tirelessly until he had honed at least half of the twigs, always glancing at the blueprints to assure he was shaping them right, and always checking Lupin’s spell list to make sure he was using the right spell. Then, hours later, he collapsed on the floor, exhausted. The cot appeared in the back of the room again, but he shook his head.

“No,” he gasped. “I think I might go back to the common room tonight.” He checked his watch; it was past midnight. He hauled himself wearily onto his feet. “Keep this stuff safe for me, will you?” he asked the room. Suddenly, everything disappeared and he was standing in a completely empty room. He murmured his thanks and walked to the door before looking back sadly. Why he was leaving the room that had been his refuge, he did not know, but something was drawing him away.

He walked down the corridors on the seventh floor, not caring if he was caught by Filch or some prefect. Detention was a lesser hell than what he was feeling. In fact, a detention would probably take his mind off of the deep well of darkness he felt inside of him.

The Fat Lady was snoozing as he approached, but she woke up with a start when he tapped her frame. “Whozair?”

“Fool’s gold,” Harry murmured and the Fat Lady blinked.

“Oh, it’s you. You’ve got some people worried, you know,” she told him.

“Fool’s gold,” he repeated, irritated.

“Alright, alright,” she muttered, and swung forward.

He climbed through and entered the common room, thinking about his four poster when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He diverted from his path to the boys’ dormitory and walked over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, where someone was sleeping, someone with bushy brown hair.

Hermione looked as though she were freezing. She had pulled her body into a tight ball and she did not have a blanket. Harry frowned. What was she doing down here?

He turned away and headed up to his dorm, but the image of Hermione’s sleeping form lingered in his mind. As he pushed open the door, he sighed. Getting out his wand, he murmured, “Accio blanket,” and the blanket Hermione had knitted him for Christmas soared from his bed and to his outstretched hand. Then, turning, he headed back down to the common room, where he crossed back over to the sofa and the sleeping form of Hermione.

He stood before her for a moment, watching her sleep, wondering if she was able to sleep peacefully at night. Slowly, he draped the blanket over her, all the way up to her shoulders. Then, he got on his knees before her and, on impulse, caressed her cheek. He rose, and as he did, he heard a voice. “Harry?”

He looked down. Hermione’s eyes were open and she was staring up at him. “Harry, where have you been?” she asked as she sat up, concern etched in her eyes.

He hesitated for a moment, then murmured, “Nowhere.”

“Are you alright?” she asked him, getting up and standing before him.

He felt like running, but his legs felt like lead. “I’m fine,” he said quietly.

“You don’t look alright,” Hermione commented. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“This morning,” he replied.

“Harry—”

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Just don’t.” He managed to move his feet and he walked to the boys’ dormitory. “I don’t want to talk about it—I just want to be alone. Good night, Hermione.”

She frowned. “Good night, Harry. Thanks for letting me borrow your blanket.”

He turned and faced her as he opened the door. He regarded her for a moment, standing by the sofa wearing a set of pale blue pajamas, clutching the blanket in her right hand. “You’re welcome,” he replied as he started up the steps. He thought he heard her whisper something more, but he had shut the door before he heard it properly, and he did not want to turn back to find out what it was.

*****

He awoke the next morning to find the sun shining. How could the sun shine when he felt so terrible? Looking around, he saw that everyone was sleeping in, so he took his chance and exited as quickly as he could.

He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. He actually took the time to shave away the fuzzy beard that was growing. He ran a hand through his damp hair, causing it to look even more unruly. He didn’t care. Finally, he got dressed and went down to the common room, where several people were, including Hermione and Ginny, who sat on the sofa. Ginny had laid a hand on Hermione’s and was murmuring something to her as Hermione gazed into the fireplace.

He tried to get away, but Ginny saw him. “Harry!” she called. Hermione looked up sharply as Harry reluctantly turned towards the two. “It’s about time you showed your face. Where the hell have you been?”

“None of your concern,” he snapped, causing Ginny’s eyebrows to rise.

“Oh don’t take that tone of voice with me. What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said and turned again, but then Hermione suddenly called out to him quietly.

“Harry, don’t go,” she pleaded quietly.

He frowned. Staying was going against everything his mind was telling him, but he looked into Hermione’s sad brown eyes and he felt some of his own sorrow melt away slightly. He sighed and sat down in one of the armchairs. “Alright,” he muttered.

Ginny gave Hermione a significant look as Crookshanks jumped up off the floor and into Harry’s lap, purring. He scratched the cat’s ears absently as he stared into the fire.

“So what have you been doing?” Ginny asked him suddenly.

“I don’t want to answer questions,” Harry told her. “Just leave me alone.”

Ginny scowled. “Oh, that will make things better.”

“Ginny,” Hermione said sharply. “Just drop it for now, okay?”

Ginny looked like she couldn’t believe her ears. Just then, the door to the boys’ dormitory opened and Ron walked out. “Harry! You’re back! Where the bloody hell—” He broke off when he saw Hermione’s warning look. “Er—glad you’re back,” he murmured lamely and sat down.

Harry looked down at his watch. Then, he gently placed Crookshanks back on the floor and got up.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“Breakfast,” he muttered vaguely and opened the portrait. The other three jumped up and followed him. Down in the Great Hall Ron and Ginny chatted while Harry remained quiet, pushing the cereal in his bowl around with his spoon.

“So yeah, while you’ve been gone, Katie and I have handled the practices,” Ron said. “They were okay, not as good as when you’re around through.”

“Hunter had his first bad practice Thursday—wasn’t so good yesterday either,” Ginny told him.

“Caught a couple of Slytherin first years spying on us,” Ron muttered. “Don’t know why the little buggers would. I mean, we’ve already played Slytherin.”

“Maybe they’re going to give information to Hufflepuff so that we won’t have the lead in the Quidditch Cup standings after our match with them,” Ginny suggested.

“Hufflepuff’s rubbish though,” Ron murmured. “And I hope you don’t plan on going easy on them because of Finch-Fletchley.”

Ginny looked quite offended. “My loyalties lie with Gryffindor, you great prat. Justin’s not going to change that. He doesn’t care about Quidditch really.”

“Just making sure,” Ron mumbled. Ginny punched him—hard. “OW! What was that for?”

“For not trusting me,” Ginny said scathingly.

Harry dropped his spoon. “I’m going outside,” he decided and got up, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny scrambling after him.

“We’ll come too,” Ron said. Harry only shrugged. In all honesty he didn’t care whether Ron, Hermione, and Ginny accompanied or not.

“Actually, I can’t,” Ginny said as they climbed the marble staircase back to Gryffindor Tower to get their cloaks, scarves, and gloves. “I’m meeting Justin soon and we’re spending the day together.”

Ron’s jaw dropped, but before he could say anything, Hermione said, “You’re mouth’s open, Ron. Do us all a favor and don’t insert your foot into it.”

Ron scowled. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Yes you were,” Ginny said with a smirk. “Thanks, Hermione.” Hermione shrugged, but gave a small smile just the same.

When they retrieved what they needed, they headed back downstairs; Ginny parted ways with them eventually, heading to the library to meet Justin.

“What do you want to do outside?” Ron asked as they crossed the entrance hall to the oak front doors.

“It’s all up to Harry,” Hermione replied.

Harry grunted at that before opening the doors and stepping out into the cold winter air. He shivered slightly as he walked across the grounds, Ron and Hermione following him. Suddenly, he caught sight of something he was sure he didn’t want to see, something that made him stop in his tracks: two people, a man and a woman, walking towards the castle with a girl, flanked by Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

“What is it, Harry?” Ron asked, but Hermione was following Harry’s line of sight and whispered, “Oh God.”

“What?” Ron asked her. “What’s going on? Who are those people?”

“I imagine they’re Sinead Cassidy’s parents,” Hermione replied. “Isn’t that her little sister, Siobhan?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered. He turned his back on the sight, closing his eyes tightly, fighting off the emotions brewing inside him.

“What are they doing here? They’re Muggles,” Ron said. “I thought Muggles would just see old ruins and a ‘Keep Out’ sign if they approached Hogwarts.”

“Yes, but if you’d ever bother to read Hogwarts: A History you’d know that Anti-Muggle Charms can be removed for certain people, like a Muggle-born’s parents,” Hermione explained and then frowned. “They must be here to pick up the body.”

Harry grimaced and began walking as fast as he could. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the girl’s parents, to feel their pain and to know that he was responsible for it.

Ron and Hermione swung around as he marched away. “Harry!” Hermione called. “Wait!”

He didn’t wait though; he didn’t even pause. He continued all the way down to the frozen lake, Ron and Hermione joining him a second later. Ron rubbed his hands together and then pulled his scarf closer to his face. “It’s so bloody cold outside. How about a little heat, Hermione?” he suggested.

Hermione took out her wand and waved it, the classic bluebell flames she was fond of appeared and floated in front of them. Ron huddled near it and shivered. “Is that better?”

“Much,” he said. “Thanks.”

“How about for you, Harry?” she asked, glancing at him.

“It’s fine,” he said flatly. He looked out at the frozen water, quelling his emotions to the point of feeling vacant inside. He was nothing more than a shell.

“Y’know Harry, that boys versus girls Quidditch match is coming up soon. All Quidditch players are invited to the next prefects’ meeting, to discuss the rules and how everything’s going to happen. It’s next Friday,” Ron told him. Harry grunted.

“As Gryffindor captain, you’re required to attend,” Hermione added, to which Harry grunted again.

“You will, won’t you?” Ron asked him.

Harry shrugged. “It’s cold. I’m going back inside.”

Ron and Hermione gave each other worried glances as Hermione waved her wand to dash away the flames before following Harry back up towards the castle. As they entered through the oak front doors though, Harry came to a dead stop and fear flooded his eyes as Dumbledore walked out of the Great Hall with Sinead’s parents. Dumbledore paused when he saw him and turned to the parents, murmuring something. Harry felt a strong urge to run.

Before he could move one foot, however, Dumbledore called softly for him. “Harry, could you come here please?”

Harry gulped. His brain kept urging him to run, but his feet shuffled forward automatically. He hung his head in shame as he approached Dumbledore and Sinead’s parents.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said gently, “these are Sinead Cassidy’s parents. They would like to have a word with you.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, gazing at his feet.

“Perhaps we could take a walk outside,” Mr. Cassidy suggested.

“Yes, sir,” Harry murmured and followed Mr. and Mrs. Cassidy outside, Ron and Hermione watching them go.

They walked around the grounds for several minutes before Mr. Cassidy said, “Professor Dumbledore told us you were there when Sinead died—that you found her, but could not save her as she was wounded so badly.”

“I wanted to save her,” Harry whispered.

Mrs. Cassidy stifled a sob. “Did she s-say anything about us b-before she d-died?”

Harry was quiet for several moments. The truth was he didn’t give her enough time to speak about her family—to say any last words. He pressured her for information on her attacker and she died trying to tell him. Another pang of guilt wrenched through his stomach.

When he finally spoke, he lied to them. “She said that she loves you both and that she loves Siobhan too.” At that, Mrs. Cassidy wept.

Mr. Cassidy wrapped his arms around his sobbing wife and pulled her close so that she could cry against his shoulder. His voice was shaky when he spoke. “Is that what she said?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied. “I’m so sorry.”

“S’not your fault, dear,” Mrs. Cassidy said, detaching herself from her husband and wiping her eyes. “We’re just grateful you found her.”

Harry frowned. But it is my fault, he thought. Voldemort is having these girls killed because of me—to get my attention. It’s all my fault.

“Thank you for talking to us,” Mr. Cassidy said. “I’m sure you have things you must attend to, so you better be on your way.”

Harry nodded, taking his opening and walking away as fast as he could. He walked into the castle, through the entrance hall, up staircases, and down corridors until he found himself at a familiar patch of wall. Concentrating hard, he walked past the area three times until the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. Sighing heavily, he opened the door and walked inside.

The room was not what he expected it to be. It was full of glass and china…fragile objects that could be broken easily. He picked up a rather delicate looking snow globe and felt his anger rise. The room had obviously sensed his rage before he had and now all he wanted to do was to destroy things, things the room had so kindly offered.

With a howl of frustration, he launched the snow globe across the room and watched it shatter against the wall. He grabbed a Rememberall next and threw it too, a savage pleasure filling him when he heard it crash against the wall as he picked up a wooden chair, carried it over to the doorway, and swung. The ensuing CRACK made him only want to do more damage. He hit the chair against the doorway again and again until all he was holding was two stubby legs. He tossed those aside and marched back for more.

He tipped a table holding several glasses and ceramic plates over so that they shattered when they hit the floor. He picked up a crystal ball and tossed it straight downward. Anything he could get his hands on and destroy, he did. Teacups, jars, inkbottles…fragments and shards glistened on the floor as the candlelight played over them as Harry continued his rampage. He didn’t stop until he felt his emotions drain and exhaustion take over. He shuffled his way over to a spot by the wall where there wasn’t that much debris lying around and leaned back, his breath labored.

Suddenly the door opened and Harry slipped back into the shadows. One lone figure walked in and closed the door, squinting around the dimly lit room before whispering, “Harry?”

“How did you find me?” Harry asked fiercely, his anger rebuilding.

“The Marauder’s Map,” she replied, holding up the piece of parchment. “Ron completely forgot until about fifteen minutes ago that he still had it.”

“I’ll have that back now. Accio!” he said sharply as he pulled out his wand. The map was wrenched from Hermione’s grasp and fell neatly into Harry’s outstretched hand.

“Harry—”

“What do you want, Hermione?” Harry asked her, stepping out from the shadows and facing her. “Why did you come here?”

“To talk to you,” she said. “Harry, I know you’re feeling guilty about—”

“IT’S MY FAULT!” he bellowed. “I KILLED THOSE GIRLS!”

“No, you didn’t! It’s not—”

“IT’S MY FAULT!” he repeated, grabbing a broken teacup and throwing it at the left wall, where it shattered into a thousand tiny little fragments. He picked up a mangled candelabrum and threw it too.

“Harry! Please, stop!” Hermione cried.

He looked up at her face—the terror and worry in her eyes—and felt a surge of guilt flood his being, leaving him mortified with himself. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to frighten Hermione.

“Oh God,” he whispered and slumped to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands.

She looked around the room, at the destruction. Then she looked down at the young man who had caused all of it. How could he live with the burdens he did? She kicked aside a broken piece of wood as compassion filled her and she knelt down in front of him.

“I’m a horrible person,” he murmured, his voice shaking.

“No,” she said earnestly, “you could never be a horrible person. It’s not your fault, Harry, and it never will be. Voldemort is trying to break your spirit by putting the very things that make you so much more powerful than him against you. You care about people, Harry, and that alone makes you a wonderful person. It’s not your fault,” she repeated.

He looked up and to her great surprise there were tears in his eyes. “They didn’t deserve to die—those girls…Cedric…my parents…Sirius…they didn’t deserve it.”

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “No, they didn’t,” she said quietly as she pulled off his glasses and gently pulled him closer still so that he laid his forehead on her shoulder.

“They shouldn’t have died,” he whispered and finally let his grief poor as his tears fell.

Hermione held on to him tightly, rocking back and forth to help soothe him. Only once before had Harry been this vulnerable and that was the night Voldemort had returned. She reached up and ran her fingers through his messy hair, breathing deeply and trying not to cry herself. His tears were soaking the blouse she was wearing. A tear escaped her eye.

As comforting as Hermione’s shoulder was, he needed more. He needed to talk to her, to hear to her soothing voice. He pulled back from her gently, and as he did so his cheek brushed against hers, the rooting reflex instilled from birth causing them to both to turn their heads towards each other…their faces mere centimeters apart. And suddenly, his lips were on hers, desperately seeking the comfort he so needed.

He expected her to pull back and run away, but he never expected her to kiss him back. He never expected her to reach up, touch his cheek, and deepen the kiss. Just as part of him was beginning to enjoy what was happening, his mind screamed for him to stop, reminding him that he was kissing his best friend.

He pulled away gently, although he felt like he had done so abruptly. Hermione’s face was flushed pink. They gazed at each other for a moment when Hermione sighed. “I know,” she said quietly, “you didn’t mean it.”

“No,” he said, just as quietly, “I did.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes,” he said and it was the truth. “I did, but I—” He took her hand in his suddenly and looked into her eyes earnestly. “—I don’t know why.”

She nodded slowly. “Maybe you’ll figure it out.”

He looked into her brown eyes and saw hope mixed with fear. “I will, don’t worry.”

She looked down at their joined hands and squeezed his gently. “How about we get out of here and go back to the common room?”

He nodded. “Alright.” He pulled himself off of the floor and helped Hermione up, never letting go of her hand. As they turned towards the door, he paused. “Hermione?”

“Yes?” she asked, turning towards him.

“Thanks,” he whispered and gave her a slight smile.

She returned his smile as she pulled open the door and led him back into the light.

Author’s Note: The first two weeks are always the easiest, it seems, so I’m updating before it gets harder. I’m glad all of you seemed to like my last chapter—I actually had a lot of fun writing it, considering how dark it was. Once again I ask all of you for your patience…it’s going to be a long and bumpy road from here on out, especially since I’m looking at a pile of scholarship applications. Yay! Essays! *groans* But I promise this thing will be finished before HBP comes out. Thanks again to Nitya and Kalie for everything!

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

PERCY THE PRAETOR

Kissing Hermione, Harry had decided by the following Friday while walking down the corridors alongside both her, Ron, and Ginny to the prefects’ meeting, wasn’t as horrible as his mind was telling him. Truth be told, he had rather enjoyed that kiss they had shared in the Room of Requirement and whenever he thought about it, it helped battle the guilt he was still feeling inside him for June and Sinead.

The days since had been more lighthearted. Harry had returned to Quidditch practice, much to his team’s delight, and he began studying with Hermione with a renewed vigor. Ron noticed his significant change in attitude and had inquired about it on Tuesday.

“Hermione and I had a talk and she finally got through my dense skull,” Harry had replied.

So now they were walking towards Professor McGonagall’s classroom, where that night’s prefects’ meeting was to be held, to discuss the boys versus girls Quidditch match that was to take place. Ron was babbling on and on about it as they went.

“We’ll be discussing the rules and stuff tonight because we wanted all of the Quidditch players’ takes on it. Malfoy, Katie, and I kept arguing in the last one and all of the other prefects feel they need to have control over every tiny little detail. Bunch of dictators.”

“Ron, that includes you,” Hermione reminded him.

“Yeah, but at least I know Quidditch,” Ron said.

“You’ve never organized a Quidditch match,” Hermione said.

“Neither have you!”

“Until now! And you didn’t even participate in the logistics part of the planning!” Hermione shot back. “You just want to figure out if you’re going to play in it.”

Ron gaped. “I am going to play in it! There’s no doubt the way the rules—”

“The rules haven’t been finalized,” Hermione snapped back. “You may not be chosen.”

“If Harry’s chosen team captain, I will—won’t I, Harry?” Ron asked.

“What if I’m not team captain?” Harry asked.

“You will be,” Ron assured him. “Team captains can only be current captains, which means Chang automatically is the captain for the girls’ team.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll be team captain,” Harry pointed out.

“Compared to Montague and that Hufflepuff Keeper, John Warren, you’re the best, hands down,” Ron said. “And besides, even if you’re not the captain, you’ll make the team. I mean, making Malfoy or that Summerby Seeker is idiocy.”

Harry laughed. Hearing Ron’s confidence for him made his heart continue to feel light and carefree. When they arrived at Professor McGonagall’s classroom, it was filled with all twenty-eight Quidditch players, all of the prefects, the Head Boy, Madam Hooch, and Professor McGonagall.

“That’s everybody,” the Head Boy, Eddie Carmichael, said, closing the door behind Ginny. “Professor McGonagall.”

“Attention!” Professor McGonagall called. “We are beginning tonight’s meeting! Tonight we will be discussing the exhibition Quidditch match. Miss Bell, as the appointed Chief Organizer for this event, will you please get everyone in this room up to speed with what’s going on.”

Katie jumped up from her spot amongst the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and walked to the front of the room. “Eddie, the prefects, and I have been working on preparations for the boys versus girls Quidditch match that is to take place before the regular matches that are to take place next month—”

“But I thought it’s supposed to be between the matches,” Zacharias Smith said loudly from his place within the Hufflepuff team.

“Maybe if you kept your mouth shut, Smith,” Ron said scathingly, “Katie would already be addressing that.”

“I was, in fact,” Katie said in a falsely pleasant voice. “Anyway, we’ve moved it because we want to be able to separate focuses in team practices. The match will take place the week after the next Hogsmeade weekend, which is…” She paused, looking at Professor McGonagall with a questioning look.

“First weekend in February,” McGonagall replied.

“There, so it’s the second weekend in February, which is the ninth, I believe,” Katie told them. “The Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match will then be two weeks later on the twenty-third while the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin match will be a week after that.”

Ron leaned in and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Those two weeks need to be jammed packed to get back on target.” Harry nodded.

“The rules for this event are still dodgy,” Katie admitted to them. “That’s why we’re here—to finalize the details. What we’ve come up with so far is how players shall be selected for the teams, but they need tweaking. So, to go over them…” She took out her wand and waved it—a neat and tidy scrawl appeared on the blackboard behind her, revealing how the teams were to be made up.

“As you can see,” she said, “we are trying to go for equality. Because Slytherin does not have any female team members, we’ve had to make some trying adjustments.” She pointed to the side of the blackboard marked “Girls.”

“The girls’ team begins with Cho Chang, the only female captain. The girls’ team will be comprised of seven girls from the three Houses with girls on their teams—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Two of these Houses will have two team members on the girls’ team. The other House will have three.

“Meanwhile, the boys’ team has all four Houses to contend with,” she said, moving over to the side of the blackboard that said “Boys.”

“We have to wait and see what the girls do,” Ron whispered to Harry.

“The boys will have team members from all four Houses. Three of the Houses will be represented by two players, while the fourth, which will not be Slytherin, will only have one. The House that only has one will be the House that holds three on the girls’ team. Everybody following thus far?” she asked, turning to face them all.

“Basically,” Madam Hooch said from her place in the corner, “if Chang selects two other Ravenclaws to join her on the girls’ team, the boys’ are allowed one Ravenclaw.”

“Exactly,” Katie said. “Now, as I’ve said, Cho Chang is automatically the captain of the girls’ team as she is the only female Quidditch captain. Potter, Montague, and Warren will have to come up with a way to decide who is captain for the boys’ team. Then, the captains need to work on making their teams. I’ve already had it set with Madam Hooch about practice times, so neither team can hog up the pitch. Any questions thus far?”

Harry looked at Ron as the hands shot up. “This will be interesting.”

“You bet,” Ron replied.

After the meeting, both Montague and Warren approached him before he could leave. “Let’s get this over with,” Montague said aggressively. “I’m captain.”

“That’s not very fair,” Warren said. “Don’t Potter and I get a say?”

Montague stared down at Warren. “You don’t get a say because your captaining skills are worse than a flobberworm’s.”

“So is your intelligence,” Harry snapped back. “Look, what’s our goal here?”

“To slaughter the girls,” Montague replied.

“To work as a team,” Harry corrected.

“I’m on the team, Potter,” Montague said.

“And you think that the only way you’ll be on the team is if you’re captain?” Harry asked. “You’re a decent Chaser, Montague, and we’re required to have two Slytherins on the team. I would never choose Crabbe and Goyle to be those two.”

“Nothing against Summerby,” Warren whispered, “but I’d rather have Potter be the Seeker.”

“What about Malfoy?” Montague said angrily.

“Potter kicks Malfoy’s arse every time they play,” Warren said. “It makes sense to make Potter the Seeker. How about if we say each of us will be on the team?”

“Bletchley’s a better Keeper than you,” Montague said.

Harry frowned. If he agreed to the arrangement, it meant that Ron would not play in the match; something he knew would crush him. “We’ll have tryouts to see who’s the best for each position, okay? Now, let’s settle who the captain is.”

“It is settled. It’s me,” Montague said.

“No, it’s not,” Warren said and turned to Harry. “You be the captain, Potter. I wouldn’t be able to handle this blockhead.”

Harry glanced at Montague and dug out a Sickle. “Let’s flip for it, okay?”

Montague sneered. “Fine.”

“Call it,” Harry said, and tossed the Sickle into the air.

“Tails,” Montague said as the coin fell back into Harry’s hand.

He flipped it onto the back of his hand. Montague and Warren leaned in as he removed his hand. Montague swore.

“Heads it is,” Warren said cheerfully. “Okay Potter, you’re captain. When do we start?”

“Monday,” Harry replied. “You can bet Cho will start as soon as possible.”

Warren nodded. “Alright.”

Without another word to each other they turned and exited the classroom. Ron and Hermione had waited for him.

“What happened?” Ron asked quickly.

“Flipped a coin and now I’m captain,” Harry replied.

“Excellent!” Ron said, pumping his fist triumphantly into the air. “When do we start?”

“We assess everyone on Monday,” Harry said.

“Assess?”

“To get the best players,” Harry replied, “the best person for the job.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Ron,” Harry said, “but getting on the team has to be done the hard way, not by association.”

“Which is how it should be,” Hermione said. “Besides, what if Hunter, or McGuire, or Kirke, are the best Chasers and Beaters? Gryffindor will only be able to let two people on the team and you must think strategically. You must do what’s good for the team as a whole.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

Ron, however, was frowning. “It would be bullocks if I didn’t make the team.”

“You never know, Ron,” Hermione said quietly.

“Bullocks,” Ron repeated and took off, leaving Harry and Hermione behind, grimacing.

*****

Monday was a cold, harsh, bitter day. As Harry stepped onto the pitch in the late afternoon, he knew it would be a tough practice for everybody. On Sunday, Cho had taken the girls out and by dinner she told Harry the information he needed to know.

“You’ll be down to one Ravenclaw,” Cho had told him. “My Chaser, Stella Hazelwood, and a Hufflepuff Chaser volunteered to be our Beaters. So our team consists of them, Zoe Reid, my Keeper, the other Hufflepuff Chaser, and of course, Katie and Ginny Weasley.”

From what he knew of most of the girls on Cho’s team, most of them were playing in their first or second year of Quidditch. Most of Harry’s team had been playing for longer than that.

Hunter walked up next to him, the snow crunching underneath his feet. “We’re going to be ice cubes by the time we’re done here,” he murmured softly.

“I know,” Harry said. “There’s a large patch of ice in the middle of the pitch there.” He pointed to it. “I had planned on doing a scrimmage match, but now it looks like we’ll have to kick off from the side and circle around the center.”

Hunter nodded. “At least it’s not snowing or anything. It would make visibility horrible.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed and turned as he heard more snow crunching behind him, signaling the arrival of everyone else, Draco Malfoy in the lead and looking very sulky.

“If everyone else has to work for their position on the team, Potter, then you should too,” he spat.

“Potter’s a much better Seeker than you, Malfoy,” said a Ravenclaw that Harry didn’t know.

“Besides,” Hunter said from beside Harry, “he’s captain.”

Malfoy looked down at Hunter in disgust. “You’re that pathetic little first year, aren’t you?” He glanced up at Harry. “They’re against the rules, Potter. The First Year rule is in place, as always. I don’t know how you got him through it for your measly team, but he can’t play here.”

“He’s a Quidditch player,” Harry said sharply, “and that means he’s qualified.”

Malfoy sneered at Hunter for a moment, then mounted his broom and soared into the air. “Come on, Potter, let’s get this over with.”

Harry gave an exasperated sigh. “Let’s go,” he muttered to everyone else. With Alex McGuire’s help, he pulled the crate of balls over to the edge of the field and then opened it, tossing the Quaffle to Zacharias Smith before releasing the two Bludgers and taking the Snitch. Finally, when everyone had kicked off from the frozen ground and hovered in the air, he gave his instructions and took off, letting go of the Snitch as he did. “You really want to try and beat me, Malfoy?” he asked. “Then let’s play.”

Malfoy pulled up alongside him as they waited, Harry counting softly to thirty. Then, on twenty-eight, Malfoy tore off, flying as fast as he could to catch the little golden ball. Harry swore and took off after him, flattening himself on the broom’s handle.

It was here where he saw the true speed of the Mercury Silver. While Harry was flying faster than he ever had before, he seemed to not be making any ground up on Malfoy. They soared around the pitch, no more than blurs to the naked eye. Then suddenly, the Snitch dived. Both Harry and Malfoy followed, Harry taking an angled path towards it rather than Malfoy’s ninety degree dive. The Snitch flew lower and lower until it was nearly a meter above the ground. Harry spared a glance up at Malfoy, who looked like he was about to slip right off of the broom. And suddenly, with a yell of surprise, that’s exactly what happened, and Malfoy fell three meters to the ground as Harry barrel-rolled over him and caught the Snitch. Slowly to a stop, Harry noticed the clapping and laughing from those above him—clapping for Harry’s triumph and laughing at Malfoy’s failure.

“Looks like Potter beat you!” a Ravenclaw Beater shouted merrily.

“Sod off, you wanker!” Malfoy snarled back as he picked himself up off of the ground, grabbed his broom, and turned his back on them all.

“Let’s get this little session over with, okay?” Harry called, watching Malfoy go. “We’re allowed one Ravenclaw and I want to make sure the Ravenclaw we choose is the best man for the job. You lot, what are your names?” he asked the group of four Ravenclaws hovering in the air.

“I’m Jack Chambers, Ravenclaw Chaser. This is Noah Bradley, our other Chaser, and those two are our Beaters, Samuel Emerson and Will Bancroft,” the Ravenclaw in the middle said.

Harry turned to the two Hufflepuffs he did not know. “And what are your names?”

“Robert Mathis,” replied one.

“Henry Vance,” replied the other.

Harry nodded. “Great. Okay, let’s get to work.”

*****

Sitting down in the locker room later, the boys sat around while Harry wrote on a sheet of parchment, writing names down and scratching them off. Quietly, John Warren walked over and sat down next to him.

“Look, I know I said I wanted to be on the team, and that each of the captains should, but that Weasley sure did his job today. I think it would be wise to make him your second Gryffindor,” Warren whispered.

Harry nodded. It was true that Ron had done a knockout job that day, besting both Warren and Bletchley. It was painfully obvious that Ron wanted on the team and Harry was more than welcome to have him.

“With that said, I would suggest that the two you use from Hufflepuff are Vance and Smith. Vance isn’t the best Beater, but he’s better than those two Slytherin blokes. And, if I were you, I’d use that Ravenclaw Beater, Bancroft,” Warren suggested.

“Yes, I already had him penciled in,” Harry replied. “I have the team decided now, so I’ll just make the announcement and then we can all head back.”

Warren nodded and got up, leaving Harry to jot down the names and double-checking them to make sure they properly fit within the rules. Then, he stood up and addressed them all. “Well, I’ve got the team figured out. Our Chasers will be Smith, Rich, and Montague. Beaters will be Bancroft and Vance. Keeper is Ron and I’m the Seeker. I’d like to thank you all for coming and trying out. So—erm—let’s get back to the castle and warm up, because it’s freezing.”

“Hey Harry!” Ron called as they all exited the locker room. “Thanks for putting me on the team.”

“Don’t thank me,” Harry said with a wry grin. “You got yourself on the team. Warren himself said you bested him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Fantastic job, mate. It’s good to have you on the team,” Harry said as they walked through the snow and up to the castle.

“It’s good to be on the team. We’re going to kick some girl arse,” Ron said, grinning wickedly, causing Harry to laugh.

“Don’t let the girls hear you say that, Ron, or you’ll never get near one of them again,” he replied, winking. “Now come on, let’s go tell Hermione.”

They raced up to the common room to find Hermione sitting with Ginny, doing their homework. “Oh Ron, glad you’re back,” Ginny said the moment she saw him. “Pig brought a letter.”

“Pig? What, did Mum send us something?” Ron asked blankly as he sat down.

“No—Percy did,” Ginny replied, holding up an opened envelope, “and he’s really bloody annoying.”

Ron snatched the envelope from Ginny and took out the letter before roughly opening it. “What in blazes does the git want? And why didn’t he use Hermes?”

“I dunno, but you’ll see,” Ginny said vaguely, going back to her assignment.

Ron slumped on the arm of a chair and began to read while Harry stood behind him and read the letter over his shoulder.

Dear Ron and Ginny,

I hope you are well and that everything happening at Hogwarts hasn’t been too troubling for you. The Ministry is well apprised of the situation and is handling it to the best of their abilities. The Aurors already stationed there have been investigating, so don’t worry, but the Ministry feels there needs to be something else done. Listen to me, jabbering away. I guess all I wanted to say was to be careful.

Oh, and read tomorrow’s Daily Prophet. You may find something of interest in there.

Percy

“Quite subtle, isn’t he?” Ron muttered, folding the letter. “I bet he’s quoted or something. How is that supposed to be interesting to us?”

“Well, he is your brother, is he not?” Hermione asked distantly. “Shouldn’t you care?”

“No,” Ron replied. “He’s a prat, a brown-nosing prat.”

“Still though,” Ginny said, “it would be funny to see what kind of garbage he said in the Prophet.”

“The fact that he’s working for Fudge makes me not care,” Ron spat, looking at the letter. “You can’t even call this thing a letter. It’s a bloody note! Is that all he can send us?”

“You said it yourself, Ron—he’s a prat,” Ginny said, grinning.

Ron scowled. “The way he crawled back home after it was proven that You-Know-Who was back, practically begging for forgiveness. Makes me wonder why the hell he was a Gryffindor. His ambitions and cowardice makes him a worthy Slytherin!”

“He’s not a model Gryffindor obviously,” Hermione said reasonably, “but there must be something in Percy that we all don’t see that the Sorting Hat did.”

“Like in you?” Ron suggested. “But I think he was right to put you in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. Look at all of the things you’ve done—going with Harry and me to save the Philosopher’s Stone, saving Sirius and Buckbeak with Harry, battling Death Eaters last summer in the Department of Mysteries…”

“I will admit to being completely terrified when we took on McGonagall’s giant chess set,” Hermione said. “I was afraid you had died when you sacrificed yourself to win.”

Ron reddened a little. “Really?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron, you’re my friend! Of course I was scared!”

A little grin spread over Ron’s face.

“Bloody hell, Ron, I was scared,” Harry added and found it strangely satisfying to see the grin wiped right off of his face.

“What about you, Ron? Did the Hat ever think about putting you in any other House?” Hermione asked.

“Me? No.”

“Never thought twice about me either,” Ginny piped in.

“And there’s no doubt about Harry,” Ron said with a grin. “He’s braver than all of us. A pure Gryffindor.”

They all laughed, but Harry didn’t meet any of their eyes as they did so. The last thing he wanted was for them to find out that he, Harry, had been seriously considered for Slytherin. If the Sorting Hat had made him a Slytherin, he was positive that his life would be completely different from the way it was now. He had wondered several times that if his current self were to ever meet his Slytherin self, would he even be able to recognize himself?

“Harry? You okay?” he heard Hermione ask distantly.

He shook his head clear and focused on her. Ron and Ginny were joking about their older brother again. Harry nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“Absolutely.”

*****

The next morning, they took Percy’s not-so-subtle hint and snatched the Daily Prophet the moment the owl had delivered. It didn’t take them long to find out what exactly Percy had been talking about.

Ministry Assigns “Praetor” to Supervise Hogwarts Investigation

Yesterday afternoon, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, announced that in order to help with the Auror investigation of two deaths at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry would send a “Praetor” to supervise them in hopes of speeding up the investigation and finding the perpetrator.

Chosen to be the Praetor is Percy Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister himself. “It is an honor to be able to carry out this duty in such dark times,” Weasley said after the announcement. “I will do my best to guide and assist the Aurors as needed.”

“Percy’s a fine candidate for the job. He was a prefect and Head Boy at Hogwarts, so he knows the school well and he’s very organized,” Fudge said to critics who asked why the Head of the Auror Division, Xavier Jarrett, was not chosen. His agitated response was this: “Jarrett is quite busy at the moment, directing the Aurors in the war against You-Know-Who. It’s not practical to send him away from that and to a school. We need him here!”

Weasley will arrive at Hogwarts today. For more information on the two deaths at Hogwarts, see pages 8 and 9.

Harry heard Ron groan from across the table. “Today? He’s going to be here today?”

“That’s what it says,” Harry murmured.

“Somebody hates me,” he muttered and stabbed his bacon strips with his fork.

*****

Sure enough, around noon, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking down to the Great Hall for lunch, they saw the oak front doors open, Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway with Kingsley, Crow, and Frost. Harry couldn’t help but notice the sour look Frost had on her face. Approaching the front doors at a fast pace was one of the thestral-drawn carriages. Dumbledore smiled warmly as it stopped and the red-haired Percy Weasley stepped out before striding up the short steps and grasping Dumbledore’s outstretched hand.

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore greeted.

“Thank you, Professor, although I would prefer to be called Praetor,” Percy said pompously.

Dumbledore gave a slight bow. “As you wish, Percy.”

Kingsley stepped forward and shook Percy’s hand. “Kingsley Shacklebolt. Let us get you updated, Praetor.”

Ron started pushing Harry and Hermione down the marble steps and into the Great Hall. “Move! Move!” he whispered urgently. “I don’t want him seeing us!”

Percy, unfortunately, glanced over and obviously caught sight of his brother’s red hair. “Ron! Harry, Hermione!”

They paused and turned around to face him. “Hello Percy,” Ron muttered. “I got your note.”

“Oh, good. So I suppose you understand what I’m here to do,” Percy said importantly. “You three will be safe now.”

“Right, no fear now,” Ron muttered.

Percy frowned. “And why don’t you be a good son and write home? I’m sure Mother would like to hear from you.”

Hermione tugged on Ron’s sleeve just as he was about to snap out something particularly vicious. “We’ve got to go to lunch,” Hermione said pleasantly. “See you later, Percy.”

He gave a slight nod and turned his attention back to the Aurors and Dumbledore. “Now, let us discuss these ghastly happenings around here.”

Harry spared a glance back as they walked into the Great Hall and saw that Frost was visibly gritting her teeth, her eyes blazing. Suddenly, Harry reached out and caught Ron’s arm. He turned back. “Do you have any of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears?” Harry asked him.

Ron stared at him curiously while Hermione’s eyes widened. “Er—yeah. Six of them, actually.”

“Great. You and Hermione get back to Gryffindor Tower, pick up the ears, my invisibility cloak, and the Marauders’ Map and then find me,” Harry said, taking off.

“Where are you going?” Hermione hissed after him.

“To follow them,” Harry replied. “Be quick.”

They rushed off as Harry stealthily took off after the Aurors. They weren’t hard to follow—Percy’s loud, pompous voice echoed down the corridors. Part of him hoped Percy would continue talking in that manner once they got to their location so that Harry would have an easier time listening to them.

He turned a corner…the Aurors were at the other end of the hall. Frost stopped and opened up a door to an empty classroom. Harry quickly jumped behind a suit of armor and flattened himself against the wall.

“In here,” he heard Frost murmur. “It’s safe.”

Percy marched in first, followed by Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Crow. Frost swept her sharp gaze up and down the corridor, searching. When she was apparently satisfied, she strode in herself.

Harry pounced, making his way to the door, his ears craning to hear. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder and was grabbed from behind as the silky material of his invisibility cloak was pulled over him.

“Here’s an Extendable Ear,” Ron whispered, handing him a flesh-looking string. “Have they started yet?”

“Just walked in,” Harry whispered back, inserting the string into his ear and watching it lower and crawl along the floor and under the door.

“Shhh!” Hermione said irritably, her Extendable Ear under the door.

“So, when did the first murder take place?” they heard Percy ask.

“Halloween,” Kingsley replied. “Potter, Granger, Lovegood, and your brother found her.”

“The second took place a little over two months later,” Crow told him. “Potter and Granger discovered her.”

“Rather quickly, in fact,” Frost added. “The girl wasn’t even dead yet. Funny that Potter and Granger happened to be wandering around that part of the dungeons at that time.”

“Ms. Frost, I hope that you aren’t insinuating that Mr. Potter or Miss Granger committed murder,” Dumbledore said sharply. “Especially when they both have an alibi for the first.”

“Certainly not, Professor,” Frost said smoothly. “I just find it…curious.”

“What was Potter doing the night of the second murder?” Percy asked.

“He was conducting a Defense Club meeting,” Crow replied. “I attended part of it.”

“I’d like to know what led him to the dungeons that night, and why he dragged Miss Granger with him,” Percy said.

They heard Frost snort. “Perhaps to snog,” she muttered.

Underneath the invisibility cloak, Harry and Hermione looked at each other and blushed. Ron’s face was looking rather red too.

“Well, check into that,” Percy ordered. “What have you uncovered in your searches of the crime scene?”

“No fingerprints, no fibers—practically nothing,” Kingsley replied.

“Any suspects?”

“Well, there was Argus Filch,” Crow replied, “but Professor Dumbledore has been vouching for him.”

“Evidence to prove it?”

“Filch had a knife and the girls were stabbed to death. The man is a Squib, and I’ve asked a student how resentful Filch is of the students. The reply was quite a bit,” Crow told him.

“Which student?”

“Eddie Carmichael, the Head Boy,” he murmured.

“And you firmly believe Filch didn’t do it, Professor?” Percy asked.

“I do,” Dumbledore responded.

“Does Filch have an alibi for either of the murders?”

“Filch claims that during the first he was battling with the Poltergeist and for the second he was cleaning the windows on the third floor,” Kingsley said.

They heard Percy sigh. “We’ll have to watch him. Now, anything else?”

There was a pause—“Just one other thing,” Kingsley said quietly.

“Which is?”

“At the second crime scene, I noticed something on the floor, so we investigated it. We found—” He let out a sigh. “—the Dark Mark. And when we checked the bathroom again, we found it there too.”

“The Dark Mark,” Percy repeated, a hint of fear in his voice. “That means—that means there’s—”

“A Death Eater here,” Crow finished for him.

“Or someone out to prove they’re worthy of becoming one,” Kingsley said.

“Prove they’re worthy? Tell me, how many children of Death Eaters go to this school?” Percy asked.

“Several,” Dumbledore replied. “But I do not think—”

“It’s possible that one of them is trying to show You-Know-Who how brave and loyal they are, how they’re willing to kill, but I doubt it,” Kingsley said. “Only a highly advanced student would have the abilities to clean up after themselves the way our killer did.”

“Precisely,” Dumbledore murmured, nodding to Kingsley.

They heard footsteps coming towards the door and even then had to strain to hear Frost mutter, “They wouldn’t have the guts to kill Mudbloods.”

“Yes, only a real Death Eater is capable of these attacks,” Crow said, “And we do have a ‘former’ Death Eater right here at Hogwarts.”

“Severus Snape was sitting in the Great Hall when Miss Winters was killed,” Dumbledore said sharply. “Unless he has the ability to be in two places at once Professor Snape could not have possibly killed her.”

“Praetor,” Kingsley said, “that is all the information we have for you.” His voice took on a sharp edge. “I would appreciate it if my colleagues would stop name tossing until we have some hard evidence. We will continue our investigation tomorrow. Now, I’m sure you’d like to get settled into your room.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione yanked on their Extendable Ears and quickly walked away before the door opened. They cut around different corners to lose them and when they were far enough away, Harry pulled the cloak off of them and they stood, gazing at each other.

“Well,” Hermione said at last, “it certainly seems as though the Aurors are as lost as the rest of us.”

“But that Frost sure does hate Muggle-borns. Did you hear her?” Ron spat. “She’s the number one suspect in my book.”

Harry nodded. “She hates Muggle-borns—June and Sinead were both Muggle-born.”

“And let’s not forget that we saw her days before Sinead’s death screaming at her,” Ron muttered. “Rotten little b—”

“Funny how she seemed to dismiss that it could have been a child of a Death Eater,” Harry said.

“It would be stupid to think that anyway,” Hermione said vaguely, her brow furrowing.

“Why?” Ron asked.

“Because everyone seems to forget who else has been attacked this year,” she said irritably.

“Me,” Harry replied softly. “The Soul Reaper.”

“Exactly. No Hogwarts student, no matter how brilliant and talented, could have pulled that off. It takes some serious Dark magic to do it,” Hermione said.

“And we know a Death Eater’s here,” Ron said.

“Two, actually, but only one is obviously still active,” Harry said. “But I wonder why Snape hasn’t mentioned Frost to anyone? He confronted her at the Yule Ball.”

“Perhaps it’s part of Snape’s Order assignment. I wouldn’t doubt that he’s playing double agent,” Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. “Voldemort would kill him if he got too far back in. He knows Snape switched sides. He’s not fool enough to believe he switched back.”

“But does Frost know this?” Hermione asked.

“If she’s here, I’d say she was close enough to Voldemort. He wouldn’t send just anybody here to spy and commit murder,” Harry said.

“Yeah, but what if she’s the only Auror in You-Know-Who’s pocket?” Ron said suddenly.

Harry considered this. “So she hears about the assignment and works to get selected for it. Once she is, she contacts Voldemort. He’s now got a spy in Hogwarts, so why not do some damage?”

“Why not turn Dumbledore’s focus back to his school instead of the war? Without Dumbledore being a step ahead of you, you can reign supreme,” Hermione murmured.

Harry looked at both Ron and Hermione for a moment. “Let’s keep an eye on her, and let’s find out her history. Maybe then I’ll find out why she hated my mother,” he said, “and maybe we’ll be able to keep her from striking again.”

Author’s Note: Hello everybody! I’m back! Sorry, it’s taken me such a long time to update (fizzing whizzbee), but I did it for special reasons. This chapter has been done for quite awhile, in fact, Chapter 30 is done too, but it’s currently being beta read and I don’t expect it back for awhile. Nitya has state required standardized testing to go through (good luck Nitya!) and poor Kalie’s computer decided to die. It’s going to be awhile before I get 30 back. So I held off Chapter 29 until today for one special reason: one year ago today, I posted the first chapter of MoL. It’s actually been a year! So, to celebrate, I’ve gone back and reread this entire story, fixing as many mistakes as I could find, including Sirius’ vault number (thank you Scholastic for not putting that in the American version of PoA). So anyway, I’ll let you read and I hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

COLD EQUATION

Life at Hogwarts since Percy’s arrival was just a little above bearable. The ambitious Praetor was keeping his eye on everything, obviously trying to impress someone, but no one honestly cared. It was his haughty and controlling nature that was driving everyone crazy, most noticeably Ron.

“He must think that if the killer is caught while he’s here he can take all of the credit and receive a promotion,” Ron spat at breakfast a few weeks later. “Everyone knows he wants to be the youngest Minister of Magic!”

“Well, you’ll get to get away from him today,” Hermione said. Today they were going to Hogsmeade with the rest of the students, all of them chattering happily about getting out of the castle and away from the overbearing Praetor.

A dreamy look came over Ron’s face. “Off to Honeydukes to pick up chocolate frogs…sugar quills…”

“I’d like to go to Scrivenshaft’s myself,” Hermione said, sipping her pumpkin juice.

“What? For new quills?” Ron asked. “Don’t you already have a hundred of them?”

“For other supplies too, Ron,” Hermione said irritably. “Besides, weren’t you complaining the other night that you needed a new bottle of ink?”

“Yeah, but Harry gave me one of his,” Ron said.

“Meaning you should still buy some more,” Hermione shot back.

“I’d rather buy a butterbeer,” Ron said simply.

“I’ll buy the butterbeer, you buy your inkbottles,” Harry said, finishing off a piece of toast.

Ron’s ears went red. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Harry murmured.

“There you go,” Hermione said. “We’re definitely going to Scrivenshaft’s.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron groaned. “Just wipe the smirk off your face, would you?”

Hermione scowled. “I do not have a smirk on my face.”

“Well, you did.”

“I did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Children,” Harry chided, “if you can’t play nice then you can’t play at all, meaning no Honeydukes or Scrivenshaft’s, clear?”

Hermione sighed. “Sorry. That was pretty childish of us.”

Ron, however, was pouting. “You’re not really going to take away our trip to Honeydukes, are you?”

At that, Harry laughed. “If you behave.”

Another pout had Hermione laughing too. “Oh Ron, you’re incorrigible. Now come on, let’s go get ready.”

They jumped up and headed out of the Great Hall, passing those who had already gotten ready and were coming back. They quickly made their way up to Gryffindor Tower and to their dormitories where they grabbed their cloaks, scarves, gloves, and hats before meeting up in the common room again.

“We’re going to Honeydukes, right?” Ron asked pleadingly.

Harry couldn’t help it—he doubled over in laughter. “Yes, Ron, we’re going to Honeydukes.”

He pumped his fist into the air in triumph. “Then let’s go!”

Harry and Hermione shared a look and grinned as Ron led them out of the portrait hole and all the way back to the entrance hall. The hall was filled with students getting ready to head to Hogsmeade, all of them chattering happily with their friends. The only one who wasn’t talking with anyone else was actually heading their way, causing Ron to groan.

“Not Loony,” he hissed in Harry’s ear.

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled as Luna Lovegood approached them. “Hello Luna, how are you?”

“Good,” she replied absently. “And you?”

“I’m fine.”

“What about you, Ronald? Alright?”

“Er—yeah, alright.”

She glanced over at Hermione. “And you?”

“I’m fine too,” Hermione replied.

“Going to Hogsmeade?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes,” Luna said vaguely. “I’m in need of some supplies.”

Harry nodded. “Well, maybe we’ll see you in the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer.” He suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through his foot as Ron stepped on it.

“Perhaps,” Luna said and looked over at the doorway where Filch was preparing with his roll of parchment. “It’s time to go get in line.”

“Then we better get in it,” Hermione said, touching Harry on the shoulder.

Harry nodded. “We’ll see you, Luna,” he said and followed Ron and Hermione into the line.

Ron shook his head. “Did you have to invite her for a butterbeer?”

Harry frowned. “I was just trying to be nice. She’s not as bad as everybody thinks. A little quirky, sure, but not bad.”

“No,” Hermione agreed. “Quirky, but not bad, although I find her logic to be quite skewed.”

Harry grinned. “That’s what makes her quirky.”

“Quirky is weird, and I don’t like weird,” Ron muttered as they moved with the line.

“That’s because you’re not open-minded,” Hermione replied.

“And you are?” Ron shot back. “You hated the idea of a Crumpled-Horned Snorkack as much as the rest of us.”

“That’s because there’s no proof it exists,” Hermione whispered harshly. “I’m not about to believe in something that no one’s ever seen before!”

Ron grinned. “Our open-minded Hermione.”

“Weasley…Potter…Granger…” Filch muttered, ticking their names off as they strode through the door.

Hermione scowled at Ron. “Otherwise,” she said, “I’m perfectly fine with Luna.”

“Sure,” Ron muttered.

Hermione let out an exasperated huff and marched ahead, leaving Harry and Ron behind. Harry frowned. “Nice one,” he murmured to Ron. “Now she’ll be like that for the rest of the day.”

“Are you taking her side on this?” Ron asked, indignant.

“You’re acting like a git, Ron,” Harry said testily. “Does it really matter if Hermione likes Luna or not?”

Ron frowned slightly but said nothing.

“Maybe you should apologize,” Harry murmured.

Ron gaped at him. “Apologize! Are you mad? The last thing we need for her is to be on her high horse with her nose in the air because she thinks she’s right!”

“It’s not up to you to say if what she thinks about someone is right or wrong. Those are her personal feelings, not yours, so lay off,” Harry said.

Ron opened his mouth to day something, then shut it and looked at his feet as they walked. After several moments he finally said, “You’re right. I don’t know what it is about her that makes me act like such an arse, but I do. She just annoys me so much sometimes.”

“You’re just so easy to get riled up,” Harry remarked. “Your temper is as red as your hair. Maybe we should dye it blue or something.”

Ron scoffed. “You can’t be serious!”

Harry chortled. “Of course not! Honestly, Weasley, you’ll believe anything!”

“Uh-huh,” Ron said dangerously while slipping out his wand. “Let’s see how your hair looks blue, Potter!”

Harry laughed. “You can’t turn my hair blue if you can’t catch me!” he said and ran. He was catching up to Hermione when he heard the incantation from behind. “Hermione—duck!”

She turned, a furious look on her face, and saw the spell coming at both her and Harry. Eyes widening, she ducked as Harry grabbed hold of her, and tumbled to the snow-covered ground when they lost their footing.

“Harry!” she shrieked. “What—”

Ron cackled above them. “Got you now, Potter!” he said triumphantly.

Harry looked up at Ron with a pleading look in his eyes. “No, Ron, please, don’t do it! Don’t turn my hair blue!”

Hermione’s shocked face contorted into one of amusement. “Blue?” She took Ron’s hand when he offered it and helped herself up, before turning and helping Harry. “He wants to turn your hair blue?”

Harry nodded and looked at Ron. “You won’t do it, right?”

Hermione fingered an unruly lock of hair on his head. “I think blue would be a lovely shade for you, Harry,” she said, giggling.

Ron grinned. “Yep. Sorry mate, but your hair is…” He trailed off as three fourth year girls passed, each of them giggling and glancing at Harry. “What’s their problem?”

“I dunno,” Harry replied, watching them go. One of them was carrying a magazine in her hand. “Let’s get to Hogsmeade though, okay. Some Honeydukes fudge sounds really good right about now.”

Ron nodded. “After that we can go to Scrivenshaft’s so Hermione can buy everything she needs for her quills.”

“Don’t forget your inkbottles, Ron,” Hermione added as they continued walking.

“How could I forget, Mum?” Ron asked, sending a lopsided grin at Hermione, making her laugh.

They entered Hogsmeade village and went straight to Honeydukes, which was already packed with students. The moment they walked in, Ron took off for the large display of chocolate frogs while Harry and Hermione looked around at the other displays.

“Coconut Clouds,” Hermione read off as they passed a rather large display of cotton candy-looking sweets.

“Not a very good idea for wintertime,” Harry murmured and then eyed the fudge.

About an hour later, the three walked into the Three Broomsticks with their purchases in hand. Heading out was Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls. She eyed Harry as they passed and said, “I can’t believe he beat Ingo Blackpool. He’s not even that cute.”

“What are they talking about?” Harry muttered as they found a table and sat down.

“No idea, mate,” Ron replied.

Hermione glanced around the tavern. “Be right back,” she murmured and got up.

Harry sighed. “Come on, let’s go get the butterbeers,” he said to Ron.

They walked up to the bar and ordered three butterbeers, and by the time they returned, Hermione was sitting back down, reading a magazine, her eyes wide.

“What d’you got there, Hermione?” Ron asked and lifted up one side so he could read the title. “Teen Witch!” He then focused on the picture on the cover. “Blimey!” He smacked it down.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Hermione closed the magazine quickly and shoved it roughly underneath the table. “Nothing, Harry.”

“Nothing my arse—what’s up?” he asked Ron.

“You don’t want to know, mate,” Ron said, sending him a pitying look.

Scowling, he launched himself at Hermione in a mad attempt to get the magazine from her. “Let me see it,” he demanded as she tried to fight him off.

“Trust me, Harry, you don’t want to,” Hermione breathed raggedly, trying to push him back, but Harry managed to get a hold of the magazine and snatched it away from her.

“Now, let’s see what…” he trailed off when he saw his own face looking back up at him, smiling nervously. He recognized it to be the same picture that had been used in the interview he gave for Rita Skeeter and The Quibbler nearly a year ago. He opened up the magazine and rifled through it until he saw his name underneath the legend “The 21 Hottest Wizards Under 21.” He groaned. Along with his name was a lengthy article and a picture of him sitting on a bench with snow around him during their second Hogsmeade visit. Harry suddenly remembered seeing a flash of light. “Those bastards,” he whispered fiercely.

Ron could only shake his head. “And you’re number one, mate,” he murmured. “Well, that should make you feel good. Witches everywhere think you’re hot.”

Harry scowled as he read the article. “Oh good God,” he groaned, “The mysteriousness that surrounds Harry Potter only adds to his sex appeal.” He looked up at Ron and Hermione blankly. “I’ve got sex appeal?”

“You’ve apparently got something,” Ron said. “So, shall we cast a permanent Disillusionment Charm on you now or later?”

Hermione smacked him. “Ron!”

Harry turned the page to see a rather roguishly good-looking wizard with light brown hair smirking back at him. He read the caption below the picture aloud, “Rising star and Australian singing sensation Ingo Blackpool, age 19, comes in second. His lyrics are currently rocking the WWN’s charts.”

“Ginny’s spoken of him,” Hermione said, taking the magazine back and flipping the page before scoffing. “Oh, too busy with work, are you?” she muttered angrily at the picture of Viktor Krum, who had come in third.

Ron sneered. “Has time to take pictures for a girly magazine to get publicity, but not enough to give a rat’s arse about you. Some friend.”

Hermione closed the magazine with more force than necessary and strode off to go return it. Harry and Ron finished off their butterbeers and when she came back, Ron suggested, “How about we get out of here?”

They were just reaching the door when it swung open and Luna Lovegood walked in. “Hello,” she said. “I suppose I just missed you three for butterbeers.”

“Yeah,” Ron replied. “We were just leaving.”

“A shame,” Luna said and turned her eyes towards Harry. “I saw your article in Susie Shinderling’s copy of Teen Witch. Quite the stunt they’re trying to pull, isn’t it?”

Harry frowned. “Yeah.”

“It’s a bunch of nonsense if you ask me,” she said airily. “People have eyes and don’t need to be told who the most handsome young wizard around is.” Her gaze flickered slightly to Ron. “All that magazine is doing is demeaning itself.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Care to join us, Luna?” she asked. “We were planning on taking a walk.”

Luna nodded. “I’d love to.”

They walked out along High Street when Luna suddenly asked, “Have you gotten any leads on who killed Sinead and that other girl?”

Harry frowned. “Did you know her?”

“Sinead?” Luna nodded. “I knew her because she didn’t find me…crazy. She and her sister liked to talk to me. I enjoyed their company. Siobhan’s a wreck.”

Harry sighed and then looked around to make sure nobody was near them. Suddenly, he caught sight of a woman with short blonde hair and icy blue eyes walking down the street. “Frost,” he muttered.

Ron and Hermione spun around. “Shouldn’t she be at the school, investigating? Percy’s not giving the Aurors any time off,” Ron spat.

“I dunno,” Harry replied and turned away.

“Maybe she’s here to look after us,” Luna said, and received three scoffs of disbelief.

“I sincerely doubt it,” Ron said.

“Ever notice that she has thorough eyes?” Luna asked. “I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed something that would lead the Aurors to the killer.”

“They’re more like ice shards,” Ron commented. “She’ll freeze you as she looks at you.”

Suddenly a voice echoed in Harry’s mind…“The eyes…such…blue…eyes.”

“Bloody hell!” he gasped.

The other three turned to him. “What is it?” Hermione asked, alarmed.

He glanced at Luna for a moment, but then thought it was safe enough. “Sinead. Right before she died, she mentioned the eyes…‘Such…blue…eyes.’ It’s another strike against Frost—she’s got blue eyes!”

Luna looked slightly confused. “Mara Frost? The killer is Mara Frost?”

“She’s a Death Eater, not that you’re supposed to know that,” Ron hissed.

“A Death Eater? Really?” She displayed no interest in this information, not that Harry found that unusual for her.

“We think she made sure she got the assignment and then contacted Voldemort,” Harry told her.

“It’s an interesting theory,” Luna said.

“It’s not a theory,” Ron shot back. “It’s the—” And suddenly the air become extremely cold.

Harry stepped back and looked around, the air becoming chillier yet. He felt all of the happiness begin to seep out of him. “No,” he whispered.

“What’s happening?” Ron asked, his once annoyed voice now taking on a fearful edge.

Hermione was looking around as well. “They can’t be here, can they?”

“Who?”

“Dementors,” Harry answered and then, to his horror, he saw nearly three dozen of them turn a corner and enter High Street. People screamed. “Come on!” he shouted, running towards the cloaked demons and taking out his wand.

He was busily summoning his happy thought when someone jumped out from a doorway and tugged on his arm. It was Justin Finch-Fletchley, and he had a look of absolute terror on his face. “What do we do, Harry?”

Harry yanked his arm away. “Think of a happy thought and use the Patronus Charm!”

“But Harry—I’ve lost Ginny!”

“YOU WHAT?” Ron bellowed from behind. “My sister!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her!” Harry said. “Now help me out!”

Ron turned and looked at the approaching dementors. “Think of a happy thought…think of a happy thought…think of a happy thought…”

Harry searched his brain for a happy memory, and came up with his Quidditch Cup victory in his third year, how happy he was when he was hoisted onto several Gryffindors’ shoulders with the silver Quidditch Cup gleaming as he held it high. With a slight smile he shouted, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” and watched as a silver stag burst from his wand tip and charged at the approaching dementors. They drifted back and floated away from the Patronus, heading elsewhere. “Split up!” Harry ordered. “Justin, go with Ron and Luna. Hermione, with me!”

Ron looked thoroughly frightened. “Right,” he said and ran off, Luna and Justin taking off with him.

“We’ve got to drive them out of town!” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice calm, but Harry noticed the slight tremble at the end.

“Got your happy thought?” Harry asked her, looking around as people ran in all directions, dementors dispersing every which way. Hermione nodded. “Then let’s go get them!”

They ran off after the closest three dementors. Then, in unison, both cried, “Expecto Patronum!” and both a stag and an otter shot out, hovered slightly for a moment, and then took off after the dementors.

“Get ’em, Prongs,” Harry said in pride.

“Harry! Look!” Hermione cried suddenly.

Harry turned—and gasped. Two dementors were heading into two separate buildings. “Go! We’ve got to stop them!”

He ran off after the one on the left; Hermione took the building to the right. When he ran in, he saw a person in a Hogwarts cloak cowering before the dementor. “No you don’t! Prongs!” The silver stag was right behind Harry and it charged at the dementor, driving it backwards and towards Harry. He got out of the way just in time.

The student—a Hufflepuff girl—stared up wildly at Harry. “Thanks for that,” she gasped as he hauled her up.

He nodded and looked around the room, realizing he was in the Gladrags Wizardwear shop. “If another one of those things comes in here, find yourself a happy memory and conjure a Patronus, okay?”

An older wizard nodded. “Blimey, Harry Potter. No wonder you’re the Boy Who Lived.”

Even in the grave situation, Harry felt some color rise into his cheeks. “Er—thanks, I think.” He turned and ran back out into the street and saw Hermione coming out of Scrivenshaft’s. “Did you get it?” he called. She nodded. The dementors seemed to be leaving the area, but Harry wanted to make sure they were leaving the village. “Come on!”

They followed the dementors down High Street, a fresh stag Patronus charging after them. Suddenly, Harry ran right into Ginny, who was accompanied by Justin. “OW—they found you!”

“They? Justin did,” Ginny replied, backing away from the sight of the dementors.

Harry looked at Justin. “Where’s Ron and Luna?” he snapped.

“I dunno! We got separated. They were heading towards the Shrieking Shack! I found Ginny in Honeydukes,” Justin replied.

Harry looked over at the retreated dementors and noticed—to his horror—that they were heading towards the Shrieking Shack. He cursed. “Let’s go!”

They ran as fast as they could towards what was known as the most haunted building in all of Britain, and just as they got there, they saw a terrible sight—

Ron and Luna were lying on the ground, unconscious, as the dementors swarmed around them. Then, two dementors floated forward, their scabby hands reaching out to grab Ron and Luna, bringing them closer and closer to their hooded faces.

“RON!” Ginny screamed.

Harry ran forward. “Expecto Patronum!” he yelled, but only whips of silver floated out from his wand. He stared at his wand tip in horror. “No!” He closed his eyes tight and fought for a happy memory. The first one that popped into his mind was how his misery seemed to evaporate as he pressed his lips to Hermione’s in the Room of Requirement not a few weeks ago.

“HARRY!” Hermione shrieked.

He opened his eyes and saw that the dementors’ mouths were nearly on Ron and Luna’s—the Kiss was being administered. Concentrating hard on his own kiss, he screamed, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” and Prongs shot forward. “Go, go!” he urged as the dementors’ mouths touched those of his two friends’. The stag ripped through the dementors and on to the two that were performing the heinous acts on Ron and Luna. He saw the Patronus bow its head low, its antlers poised—when it hit, it knocked the dementors away and both Ron and Luna fell to the ground.

“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Justin gasped as Harry, Hermione, and Ginny ran towards Ron and Luna. Prongs continued to charge around, driving the last of dementors away.

Harry dropped to his knees between Ron and Luna and touched their cold, clammy skin. “Bloody hell,” he murmured and began to haul the unconscious Ron up. “Help me!”

Justin ran forward and helped Harry with Ron, while Hermione and Ginny grabbed Luna. “We’ve got to get them back to Hogwarts,” Ginny said. “Fast.”

With grunts as they worked to carry the bodies of their friends, they took off, desperate to get back to Hogwarts. Harry hoped and prayed as they worked, hoped and prayed that they would not have to be sent to St. Mungo’s, because that surely meant that they were dying. Or much worse. Those thoughts haunted him as they passed through the winged boar gates and up to the castle.

*****

“You’re lucky, that’s what you are,” Madam Pomfrey was saying to Ron and Luna a few days later in the hospital wing. “A few moments longer…” She broke off a piece from a huge slab of chocolate and handed it to Ron before doing the same with Luna.

“And which one of you do we have to thank for saving our souls?” Ron asked weakly, but a ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

“Harry,” Hermione replied. “He kept his sanity.”

“Which still amazes me,” Ginny said.

“I almost didn’t make it,” Harry murmured. “It seemed like an eternity before I could find another happy thought because what I was seeing was so…” he trailed off, the image in his head.

Ron cringed. “Must have been quite the sight to see because I feel like hell.”

“And you’re going to feel like that for awhile longer. I want both of you to remain in here for observation,” Madam Pomfrey told them.

“How much longer?”

She pursed her lips. “When I believe you can leave.”

Ron groaned. “But the Quidditch match is on Saturday.”

“And you’re not playing in it.”

“WHAT!” he bellowed, nearly jumping out of his bed.

“Mr. Weasley!” she scolded. “You can’t expect to be able to fly around on a broom after such an attack, can you?”

He let out a snarl of frustration and turned to Harry. “Go—now. Replace me. You’ve got no time to lose!”

Harry sighed. “I’m gone,” he murmured and left.

*****

Ron and Luna were released on Friday, but Madam Pomfrey had warned Ron that if he even so much as touched a broomstick, she’d force him to remain in the hospital wing for another week.

“Crazy bat,” he muttered on Saturday morning at breakfast. “How was practice yesterday?”

Harry had replaced Ron with John Warren and cut Henry Vance from the team, replacing him with Alex McGuire. “It was okay. I think we’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Ron replied. “Something’s got to cheer me up.”

“For once in my life, Harry, I’m sorry to say I won’t be cheering for you,” Hermione said with a wry grin.

“That’s okay,” Harry replied. “It might do you some good to wish that I take a Bludger to the head or something.”

Hermione laughed. “Knock some sense into you, it may. But Ginny and the rest of the girls have my full support.”

“Good luck winning,” Ron said. “Harry will catch the Snitch and all of you girls can take your emotions and hormones to the loos.”

“It’s because of Harry that I figure the boys will win, so I don’t feel so bad about not cheering for him,” Hermione said as Percy stepped up to them.

“Morning all,” he said brightly. “How are you feeling this morning, Ron?”

“Fine,” Ron muttered, but a lot of the bitterness in his voice that he usually held for Percy was gone. While in the hospital wing, Percy had visited him twice each day, to check in on him. “I wrote Mum a letter to tell her I was fine.”

“That’s good,” Percy said. “She’ll be pleased to hear from you. Have fun at the match today,” he finished, striding off.

Harry checked his watch. “I’ve got to run,” he told them. “See you later.”

Ron and Hermione nodded. “Good luck, Harry!” Hermione called after him.

He smiled back at them and headed out of the Great Hall and through the entrance hall. When he opened the oak front doors, cold air blasted in and chilled him immediately. It was quite the bitter day. The snow crunched underneath his shoes as he walked toward the locker rooms next to the Quidditch pitch. The wind howled. Harry sighed at the thick pelt of fog that covered the grounds. Visibility was going to be terrible that day.

He walked into the locker room, not surprised to see a few of his teammates there already.

“Morning, Potter,” said John Warren as he finished putting on the black Quidditch robes that the boys would be playing in that day.

“Good morning,” Harry greeted, nodding his head towards Alex McGuire, Zacharias Smith, and the Ravenclaw Beater, Will Bancroft.

As Harry started pulling on his robes, the door banged open and Montague walked in with Rich, each carrying three brooms. “Got good news,” Montague said, kicking the door shut. “My Slytherin teammates have been generous enough to donate their brooms for this match—except Malfoy. He says Potter’s broom will do him fine, as we all know.”

Smith jumped up, his eyes bright. “Mercury Silvers? We get to play on Mercury Silvers?”

Montague nodded with a smug grin. “That’s right, Smithy. Now maybe you can keep up with us.”

“And maybe catch the Quaffle when we throw it to you,” Rich added with a sneer.

Montague held out a broom. “Here you go, Smithy. Don’t break it.”

Smith held out his hands for it. “We get to play on Mercury Silvers.”

“No we’re not,” Harry snapped, tugging on his boots.

The other six players spun to stare at Harry. “W-what?” Smith gasped.

“You’re not going to use one of their brooms,” Harry told him.

“B-b-but why?”

“Yeah, Potter,” Montague snapped, “why?”

“Because,” Harry said evenly, “it’s not fair. Think about who’s playing on the girls’ side, will you? Think of the experience. Not much. This match is meant to be entertaining, not let’s-see-how-bad-we-can-kick-their-arses. Be gentlemen and let the girls have a little dignity, okay?”

Montague blinked. “Boy Potter, you’re either a wuss or some girl has gotten you whipped.”

Rich snorted in laughter. “That Chang, didn’t he go out with her last year?”

“Probably doesn’t want to break her heart anymore,” Montague teased.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to the rest of his team. “You’re playing on your brooms, and that’s final, okay? Now come on, hurry up, because the match will be starting soon.”

By the time everyone had their Quidditch robes on, they could hear the thundering of the students making their way into the stadium. Harry had been going over their strategy one last time, but the noise was too great and he stopped, wished everyone good luck, and led the way out of the locker room.

As they stepped out onto the pitch, they could hear Colin Creevey announcing. “And here are the boys—Slytherin Graham Montague, Slytherin Malcolm Rich, Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith, Ravenclaw Will Bancroft, Gryffindor Alex McGuire, Hufflepuff John Warren, and their captain, Gryffindor Harry Potter!”

For once in his life, Harry heard the roar of approval from every male in the stadium, except for probably Malfoy, Harry mused. He was probably sulking.

“And here come the girls—Gryffindor Katie Bell, Hufflepuff Rachel Knowles, Gryffindor Ginny Weasley, Hufflepuff Bonnie French, Ravenclaw Stella Hazelwood, Ravenclaw Zoe Reid, and their captain, Ravenclaw Cho Chang!”

The girls stepped out onto the pitch in their white robes, each of them looking around the stadium as the every female in the stadium cheered for them.

“Captains, shake hands,” Madam Hooch ordered when both teams made it to the middle of the field. Harry leaned over and shook Cho’s hand gently, causing her to smile. “Mount your brooms,” Madam Hooch said and Harry swung his leg over the side of his Firebolt, ready to go. “On my whistle then—three, two, one!” She blew her whistle and fourteen brooms rose high into the air.

“And there’s off!” Colin said enthusiastically. “The match begins with Montague nabbing the Quaffle away from Bell—he is fast! He zooms around Weasley…Bancroft smacks a Bludger towards her to help—nicely battled back by French, who is not normally a Beater, but special times call for special measures. Montague passes to Rich—they’re so close to the goal…passed back to Montague—SCORE!”

Harry whipped around from his search of the Golden Snitch to see the black-clad figures of Montague and Rich celebrating through the fog. He saw Reid, the Keeper, immediately pass the Quaffle to Knowles. Montague and Rich were too busy celebrating to notice it. “Idiots,” Harry muttered and flew down into the haze. He saw Zacharias Smith. “Smith!” he yelled. “Go!”

Smith turned and saw the white figure of Knowles just as she passed the Quaffle to Ginny. “Aw, damn!” he spat and flew off after them.

Harry flew as fast as he could to Montague and Rich, who were searching for the Quaffle. “Pay attention!” Harry spat. “It’s heading towards the other side of the pitch!”

They grunted in response and streaked off after Ginny, who was flying as fast as she could to Warren and the goalposts.

“Weasley passes to Bell, who ducks under Smith, passes back to Weasley—nice save by Warren! Possession returns to the boys as Rich catches the pass from Warren and rolls around Bell.”

Harry shook his head and returned to looking for the Snitch. The fog was giving him some problems, but he preferred it to the heavy blankets of snow they could have been having. As he zoomed around the pitch, searching, he listened as Colin enthusiastically told the crowd what was happening in the match.

“Rich passes to Montague and the superior speed of the Slytherin brooms are surely being exhibited here and Montague simply dodges a Bludger sent by Hazelwood. Quick pass to Rich—SCORE! Malcolm Rich scores to make the game twenty to nothing, boys.”

Once again Harry saw Reid, the Keeper, pass the Quaffle off quickly to Ginny. Montague and Rich tore off after her.

“Weasley passes to Knowles—A Bludger! Ooh, she barely missed that one! Sharp pass to Bell, who dives under Montague to get it. She tries to fly to the goals, but Montague’s too quick for her—STOLEN! Montague steals the ball from Bell and rushes off. My, the girls are certainly having problems when it comes to defense.”

Montague pounded the Quaffle past Reid a moment later. Moments after that, Rich scored, followed up by another goal by Montague.

“Bell has the Quaffle now. She passes it to Weasley, who is being chased down by Rich…Rich is about to steal—whoa! Hazelwood sends up a nice Bludger and nearly knocks Rich off his broom! Weasley makes an easy pass to Knowles…she’s only got the Keeper left to finally get the girls on the board…NO! Warren saves it!”

There was a shrill groan from every female in the crowd.

“Warren passes it to Smith, who has had very little action in this match thus far. He dodges Bell—dodges Knowles. French sends a Bludger—McGuire smacks it back! Weasley is trying to chase Smith down, but Rich blocks her. Smith looks to be going right—feints and throws left—SCORE! The boys continue to build their lead fifty to nothing!”

Another fifteen minutes passed. Montague scored twice and Rich also got a goal to bring the score up to eighty to zero. It was positively one of the most boring matches Harry had ever played in. Ninety, one-hundred, one-hundred ten…Harry started to wonder if there was a point to even continue searching for the Snitch.

Even Colin started to sound like he was getting bored. “And Montague rams it home to continue the boys’ onslaught of the girls. The score is now one-twenty, nil.”

Reid passed it off quickly to Knowles. Harry suddenly took notice to a peculiar pattern Ginny, Katie, and Knowles had taken in concerns to their Beaters.

“Knowles soars past Smith…Bancroft sends a Bludger. Knowles passes to Weasley—Hazelwood smacks a returning Bludger towards Montague, letting Weasley slip by. Rich is heading towards her…OUCH! A Bludger sent by French hits his arm and sends him off-course! Ginny passes to Katie Bell…McGuire tries to send a Bludger, but French is there, sending it back! Bell is on her own…Warren’s waiting. Bell gets ready to—wait a minute! She loops over Weasley and Knowles—throws to Knowles, who passes to Weasley who…SCORES! THE GIRLS SCORE! That makes the score one-twenty to ten, but do the girls still have hope in concerns to this dominating boys’ team?”

Harry smiled, admiring the tactic. He was wondering which of the girls had thought it up when he noticed Cho had started to tail him. His smile widened. If she wanted to fly with him, she’d have to keep up.

Harry took off like a rocket, soaring down, faster and faster, Cho trying to keep up. He was getting closer and closer to the ground, drawing Cho with him. Then suddenly, about two meters above the ground, he pulled up out of this dive and watched as Cho barreled past him, also trying to pull out of it. He rose up in the air and then hung there, waiting for Cho to join him as Colin yelled, “What a feint by Potter!”

“That was low, Harry,” Cho said when she finally made it back up to him.

He smiled ruefully at her. “That’s why you don’t follow me.” Then, he saw it, fluttering around by the other side of the pitch—the Golden Snitch. His smile grew wider. “Bye!” he said and took off, chasing after the little gold ball.

Suddenly, he heard Cho whistle shrilly from behind him. Then, with a WHOOSH of air, a Bludger plowed right past him, causing him to ease up slightly to make sure he avoided it. Then, the second Bludger slammed into his gut—he never saw it coming. He came to a full stop as he wheezed, clutching onto his broom tight as he felt himself begin to slip off. He righted himself just as Cho shot passed him, chasing after the Snitch. He groaned in pain and took off again, his stomach flip-flopping. He flattened himself on the broomstick, increasing speed. Cho had gotten so far ahead of him—it would take a good minute to catch up to her. Vaguely he heard Colin yell, “SCORE!” again, but he had no idea which side scored. He was pulling up alongside Cho as she held her arm out, trying to grab the Snitch. Then he was neck to neck, taking his right hand off of the broom and reaching out. He leaned forward to snatch it—and felt his hand brush over the back of Cho’s.

They both came to a full stop—Harry in shock, Cho screaming in triumph. Harry had not caught the Snitch; Cho had, and now the match was over as the crowd roared. “Amazing!” Colin was screaming. “Absolutely amazing! Unbelievable! Chang beats Potter! The girls win! The girls win one-hundred and sixty to one-hundred and thirty!”

Harry floated down as the girls flew over to celebrate with Cho. He landed on the pitch just as every single female at Hogwarts flooded it. He looked up and saw the smiles on the faces of Ginny, Katie, and Cho. With a slight chuckle and a shake of his head, he turned and headed off of the field with the rest of the boys.

In the locker room, everybody but Montague and Rich came up to Harry and shook his hand. “It was brilliant, Potter,” Will Bancroft said to him. “Just sorry we lost in the end.”

Harry quickly changed and walked out of the locker room. Cho was there, still in her Quidditch robes, beaming. “Hi, Harry,” she said.

“Hello,” he replied and held out his hand. “Great game.”

Her smile grew wider and she took his hand and shook it. “Yeah. Sorry about the Bludgers. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m lucky I wasn’t hit any higher or I might have had some cracked ribs,” Harry said, but grinned. “It was a good idea.”

“Yeah, I thought so. I was afraid you were going to fall off of your broom.”

He laughed. “No, I’m alright. The only thing that got damaged is my ego.”

“Well, everyone deserves to have that bruised at some point, don’t they,” she said with a wry smile.

Just then, Ron and Hermione walked over and joined them. Ron was looking rather sulky, but Hermione was smiling. “Hello,” she said. “Congratulations, Cho.”

“Thanks,” Cho replied, but her tone had changed slightly. “Anyway, I had best get changed. Good-bye.”

“Bye,” Harry said. When she was out of eyesight, he rubbed his stomach. “I’m going to have one nasty bruise come tomorrow.”

Hermione walked over and put her arm around him. “Come on. Let’s go get you some ice.”

He laughed as they started back towards the castle. “Okay.”

“We’re going to have to watch out for that move when we play Ravenclaw,” Ron said finally.

Again, Harry laughed. “No kidding.”

A/N: Yeah, okay, I’m sorry about the whole 21 Hottest Wizards Under 21 thing, but I just had to spoof Teen People’s 25 Under 25. It just makes me laugh every time I look at it. (They need to put Dan, Emma, and Rupert on it!)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Sorry it has taken me nearly three months to update, but hey, RL has been evil to me. It has been evil to my beta readers too. But school’s out for all of us and hopefully I can mass produce chapters for you all to finish the story before July 16th. That’s the deadline I’ve given myself. Anyway, you’ve waited long enough for this chapter, so have at it.

CHAPTER THIRTY

CREATING CHAOS

Xavier Jarrett, Amelia Bones, and Linus Towler were the three nominees selected by the Ministry,” Hermione read over a week later from the Daily Prophet.

“Huh?” was Ron’s response.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Have you been paying attention to me at all?”

Ron munched on his breakfast. “You started blabbing on about the Ministry, so I tuned out.”

Hermione gave him a scathing look and then started over.

Wizards Call for Fudge’s Dismissal; Ministry Responds

The dementor attack on Hogsmeade village caused an uproar within the wizarding community, and several owls flew into the Ministry of Magic the next day, all of them condemning Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and vehemently requested his removal from office. The sheer number of Howlers forced the Wizengamot into session to discuss their options and how to keep the wizarding world safe at this time of war.

Elder Tiberius Ogden, who rejoined the Wizengamot in June this past year, announced late yesterday afternoon that Xavier Jarrett (Head of the Auror Division), Amelia Bones (Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement), and Linus Towler (Wizengamot Elder) were the three nominees selected to the Ministry to replace Cornelius Fudge.

Interviews with the three nominees will commence tomorrow morning. It is expected for the Ministry to complete their interviews by Friday and to have come to a decision by mid March.

Cornelius Fudge declined to comment and is expected to resign.

“About bloody time,” was all Ron said.

“Amelia Bones,” Harry said thoughtfully. “She seemed like a level-headed person when I met her.”

“And I’m sure she has some fine credentials,” Hermione said as she continued to read. “She’s been employed by the Ministry the longest, so she probably knows the ins and outs better than the other two. She must be good at her job and well organized in order to be the Head of her department, and she must also be politically savvy.”

“Is all that in the paper?” Harry asked, amazed.

“No, that’s just a simple deduction.”

Harry laughed. “Hermione, you amaze me sometimes.”

Her cheeks went crimson. “I don’t see how.”

“Because your brain works in such a way that it befuddles my mind half the time,” Harry replied.

“You can say that again,” Ron muttered.

Harry grinned. “Well, let’s go. We’ve got Herbology first, followed by Care of Magical Creatures. I wonder what Hagrid has in store for us today?”

“I imagine we’ll continue to work with other animals while the kneazles prepare to mate,” Hermione said as she grabbed her cloak and books.

“What’s taking them so long?” Ron asked, annoyed. He always seemed to get annoyed when talking about Care of Magical Creatures since the class had taken on the kneazle project.

“It’s quite obvious, Ron, that you know very little about reproductive systems,” Hermione said, exasperated.

“I know enough,” Ron said defensively.

“Oh? Then you know about all of that, do you—about how female mammals go into heat?”

Ron’s ears turned red. “I just know that your lot get extremely moody once a month—especially Mum. She looks like she could kill you if you get her irritated. Ginny’s, if possible, worse. And no matter what we blokes do, we’re always wrong.”

Harry grimaced and sent a sympathetic glance at Ron. The only women he had ever been around for long periods of time were his Aunt Petunia and Hermione, and Harry thanked his lucky stars that Hermione always had an even temperament. Aunt Petunia…well, she always acted that way.

“Well,” Hermione said pleasantly, “you get one and deal with the whole thing and see how you like it? I say that we’re entitled to a bit of grouchiness while going through it. Bloody painful.”

Ron stared at her in disbelief. “I didn’t want to know that.”

“Well now you do, so deal with it,” she replied with a smirk as they entered the greenhouse.

He looked over at Harry, his eyes showing a mixture of horror and disgust. “How did we get into this conversation again?”

“Kneazles,” Harry answered and shook his head. “Now just don’t mention it again and we can avoid this topic, okay?”

Ron nodded. “Right.”

In Herbology, Professor Sprout had them carefully tend to a group of her poisonous plants, causing all of them to pull on their dragon-hide gloves. Neville was pruning one of them when suddenly a green acid shot out of it and hit Ernie Macmillan on the arm.

“OWWW!” he cried as the acid ate its way through his clothing.

Professor Sprout got out her wand. “Evanesco!” she said, pointing it at Ernie’s sleeve. “Five points from Gryffindor for that serious blunder, Longbottom—class dismissed!”

Neville looked completely devastated. Ron patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Neville. Madam Pomfrey will have him fixed up quick. Look what she did for me!”

Neville sighed. “That was a stupid mistake. I cut the wrong part of the stem…I should have known better.”

“It’s alright, Neville,” Hermione said gently. “Accidents happen. Why don’t you go find Ernie after Care of Magical Creatures and apologize? You’ll feel better afterwards.”

“Alright,” Neville murmured, slumping off.

“Any of us could have made the same mistake,” Hermione said to Harry and Ron. “The poor guy is just beating himself up so bad.”

“Not surprising, is it? People always put him down,” Ron said.

“But he’s been doing so well lately,” Hermione said. “Think of all he’s done in the D.A.”

“Yeah, Neville’s definitely gotten better, and he proved it in the Department of Mysteries,” Harry said, a small lump rising in his throat. He hated thinking about the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione put a comforting hand on his arm as they walked through the snow to Hagrid’s hut.

Hagrid stood outside with Fang at his side. He had a huge grin on his face as they approached. “Hullo!” he greeted them.

“Hello Hagrid,” Harry said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Got a letter from Olympe this morning. Nice to hear from ’er again,” he said.

The rest of the class approached, Malfoy in the lead. “Oh God, why are you smiling? Did you bring some sort of monster to show us today?”

Hagrid chuckled. “None of yer business, Malfoy. Now, I’ve just bin over ter check on yer kneazles…it’s gettin’ to be that time. So, I thought today would be a good day to study ’em some more. Perhaps if yer lucky, yeh’ll even get ter see their matin’ habits.”

“Yeah, if we’re lucky,” Malfoy muttered sarcastically, loud enough for everyone to hear him.

“So go on and get with yer partner,” Hagrid said, ignoring him.

Ron frowned and walked over towards Parvati, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. She smiled. “Come on, let’s go see how Eros and Psyche are doing.”

Harry followed her over to their pen to find Psyche mewing slightly while Eros walked around the pen. Hermione smiled. “They’re so cute!”

“If you like felines,” Harry said. “I’m more of a dog person myself.”

“You and Crookshanks get along well enough,” Hermione commented.

“Yeah, well, he’s your cat, so he’s alright in my book.”

Hermione smiled. “You know, if it wasn’t so cold out I’d ask Hagrid if he would let Crookshanks come down here with the kneazles, but seeing as we’re trying to get them to mate, it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

She smiled again. “Males are rather territorial,” she replied. “They’d try to tear my poor Crookshanks apart if he came near their pens.”

“I’m sure Crookshanks could show them who’s boss,” he said, causing her to laugh.

“The mighty Crookshanks, I’m sure,” she said and giggled.

Harry laughed and looked over at the kneazles. Both Eros and Psyche were doing something rather strange…“Er—Hermione? What are they doing?” he asked.

She looked over. “—Oh! Er—let’s go get Hagrid,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him away.

*****

Harry was very happy to get away from Hagrid’s hut when the class was over. Hagrid had both him and Hermione sit down and write, in detail, what they saw. Harry had found it quite disturbing. That was why he was welcoming the distraction of Quidditch practice as he pulled on his Quidditch robes in the locker room.

“Heard your kneazles mated,” Ron said as he pulled on his boots.

Harry groaned. “Did you have to remind me?”

Ron smirked. “Yeah.”

Harry pushed his shoulder. “Git.”

Ron laughed. “Well, you just had this mortified look on your face as you walked away from class, mate. I had to tease you.”

“So like Fred and George,” Harry muttered.

“So like a Weasley,” Ginny corrected, walking over. “We’re ready.”

“Alright,” Harry said, nodding.

The team headed out to the pitch. On Harry’s instruction, they took off and began practicing. Harry watched his team in pride. They had worked tirelessly to return to the state they were in when they had played Slytherin. None of them showed signs of being rusty. And the person who had worked hardest of all was Ron, continuously proving that he was, even after the dementor attack, still able to play. Harry was incredibly proud of him.

When they finally called it a night, they walked back into the Great Hall and sat down as one, discussing their theories on the upcoming Hufflepuff match.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Katie was saying. “It’s the Ravenclaw/Slytherin match that we’ll have to worry about.”

Ron nodded. “Both teams are good. I’d give it to Slytherin though, because of the brooms.”

“But Ravenclaw is talented,” Alex McGuire added. “Talented enough to be versatile. Look at that Hazelwood. She’s a Chaser but she played Beater in the exhibition match. And I played with Bancroft—he’s a good Beater.”

“And Cho outwitted you,” Ginny added with a grin.

“I still say Slytherin will win,” Ron said.

“It will be a high-scoring match, I think,” Katie said.

“Which means we have to score a lot against Hufflepuff to stay in the hunt,” Harry told them. “Do you think that will be a problem?”

“There was one nice thing about working with the girls,” Katie said. “We shared information about our teams.”

“Our information on you, Harry, was how Cho came up with that Bludger ploy—sorry about that,” Ginny added, grimacing.

Harry brushed it off. “Don’t worry about it. So, you two have information on Hufflepuff then?”

Katie nodded. “Yes, that Knowles told us a bunch, such as that Smith really fears Bludgers—”

“Then Andrew and I will be sure to send one his way whenever we get the chance,” Alex said with a grin.

“She also said that if they start losing by too much, Warren gets down on himself and starts leaving his left goal hoop open,” Ginny added. “So once we start getting a big lead, it will just get easier.”

Harry nodded. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

*****

Ginny was right, Harry thought bemusedly on Saturday as Gryffindor made its tenth goal. John Warren had been wide open when Katie shot the Quaffle past him, making the score 100 to 40. Gryffindor was having an excellent day, and the weather reflected that. Harry felt the nice, warm sun on his back as he flew around the pitch, listening to Colin’s commentary on the match.

“Hufflepuff with the Quaffle again…Smith passes to Knowles—attempted to pass to French, but stolen by Weasley! She’s soaring back…quick pass to Bell, who scores!”

Harry watched as Ginny and Katie gave each other a high five. Warren was kicking the air in frustration before passing it off to Knowles. Harry glanced around. Summerby, their Seeker, was on the other side of the pitch, looking around. Harry shook his head.

“Knowles passes to Smith and here comes a Bludger sent by Kirke! Smith does a squirrelly roll to dodge it—drops the Quaffle! French picks it up. Boy, were they lucky! She flies around McGuire, Weasley and Farrell chasing after her. Farrell flies in front of her—Weasley steals! She tosses off quickly to Bell, who flies under Beater Mathis. She passes it to Hunter Farrell…here comes a Bludger! Ooh, he barely missed that one! Quite the talent this first year is. Smith tries to block him—doesn’t work. He’s only got Warren to deal with now…GOAL! Farrell plows it right through Warren’s left hoop. So the score is now one-twenty to forty in this lopsided match. This is doing some damage to Hufflepuff’s hopes of becoming the Quidditch Cup winners.”

Harry secretly began to wonder what had happened to the Hufflepuff team that had defeated them last year; granted, Harry, Fred, and George hadn’t been on the team. Funny what one year could do.

“And what’s this?” Colin cried, grabbing Harry’s attention. “Smith dives under Bell—breaking away. Only the Keeper Weasley is left. Ron is eight for twelve today. Smith throws—SCORE! Weasley missed the feint and Smith brings the score to one-hundred and twenty to fifty, Gryffindor, but they’ve got a long way to go to get back into this.”

As Harry flew down towards the Gryffindor end of the pitch, he saw Ron scowling at Smith. “It’s okay, Ron!” he called. “You’ll get him next time!”

Ron nodded before shouting back, “You bet I’ll get that little twit.”

By the time Smith got back to the Gryffindor end of the pitch, the score was 150 to 50, and that time, Ron stopped him with an amazing catch, causing Harry to laugh and cheer.

“And what an amazing save by Weasley! It almost slipped through his fingers, but somehow he hung on!” Colin said

Just then, Harry caught a glimmer of gold over by Summerby, who had completely abandoned his search and was watching the match, shell-shocked.

“You bloody fool,” Harry whispered and flew around in a casual manner, keeping his eye on the Snitch for any sudden movements. Then, as he was getting closer to the suspended Summerby, he dived, causing the other Seeker to jump and nearly fall off of his broomstick.

“Potter’s seen the Snitch!” Colin sang merrily. “Harry Potter’s diving—Summerby is heading after him.”

The Snitch twitched and sped away, but Harry was following it at top speed. Summerby was falling behind. Apparently he didn’t see that it was pointless. Harry reached out, followed the Snitch as it made a thirty degree turn, and snatched it out of the air.

“He’s caught it! Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!” Colin yelled as the crowd roared. “Gryffindor wins in a blowout match, three-hundred to fifty!”

Harry landed, holding the Snitch up high, and was nearly pounced on by the rest of the Gryffindor team when they landed. Ron pumped his fists into the air triumphantly as the Gryffindors stormed the pitch, running over to congratulate their team.

“What a match!” he heard Ron shout over the sea of students enveloping them.

Harry couldn’t have agreed more.

*****

Monday morning, after breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were heading to Transfiguration. Harry and Ron were still talking about the match.

“They ought to cut that Summerby from the team,” Ron was saying. “Even I noticed the Snitch was right under him. He must be as slow as Crabbe and Goyle.”

“I think he was just devastated that his team was losing so horribly,” Harry said.

“Especially after they beat us last year,” Ron added sourly.

“Last year was an odd year,” Harry said and then smirked. “But we still won the Cup.”

Ron perked up. “Yeah, nobody could believe it.”

“The comeback of the year,” Harry said.

“Of the decade,” Ron corrected.

“Of the century,” Harry amended.

Hermione rolled her eyes behind them. “When you two stop flattering yourselves, maybe you’ll notice that you just walked past Professor McGonagall’s classroom,” she said.

They paused and turned around. Sure enough, they had waltzed right past the Transfiguration room. They both turned red before walking back. But before they could walk in, someone called out gently, “Harry!”

The three spun to see both Professor Dumbledore and Kingsley Shacklebolt walking down the corridor towards them. Kingsley’s face looked extremely serious, but Dumbledore had a small smile on his face. “Good morning,” he said to them. “Harry, we’d like to have a word with you…if you could come with us? Could you two tell Professor McGonagall that I’m borrowing him?” he asked Ron and Hermione.

“Er—sure,” Hermione said, grabbing Ron by the sleeve and pulling him inside.

Dumbledore’s smile widened. “I think my office would be a suitable place, so why don’t we go there?”

“Er—okay,” Harry murmured, following into step behind Professor Dumbledore. He wanted to say hello to Kingsley, but the stoic look on the Auror’s face made him think better of it.

They ran across Filch and Peeves along the way—Filch was howling and trying to remove a suit of armor’s helmet from his head and Peeves was cackling merrily. When he spotted Harry, Dumbledore, and Kingsley, his twisted smile widened. “Why, Professor Dumbly-dorr, how are you this fine morning? Filchy here has gotten his head caught. And what’s this? Potty-wee Potter? And the skinhead?” His eyes were filled with mirth. “Are they finally putting you in Azkaban, Potty?”

“That’s quite enough, Peeves,” Dumbledore said, waving his wand and releasing Filch.

“That’s it!” Filch spat. “The Bloody Baron will be after you!”

Peeves jumped up to the ceiling. “That’s a low blow, Filchy.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said, “I could find something a little more constructive for you, Peeves? There is a tapestry on the fourth floor that has been unoccupied for quite some time. I believe its former tenants enjoy playing two floors below and they have agreed to letting me put up a new tapestry in its place. So, could you possibly remove it to the best of your abilities?”

Peeves’ eyes sparked. “Don’t worry, Professorhead, I’ll have it down for you.” With a cackle, he sped away.

“He’s a menace, sir,” Filch grumbled. “He needs to be kicked out!”

“He has his uses,” Dumbledore murmured, picking up the helmet. “But I am sure this unfortunate fellow is in agreement with you.”

Filch took the helmet back when Dumbledore handed it to him. “Yeah, I’ll go return it,” Filch muttered, and stalked off.

There was a glimmer of amusement in Dumbledore’s eyes when he turned back to Harry and Kingsley. “Well, now that that’s settled, shall we continue on our way?”

They walked down the corridor, around a corner, and down another corridor. They passed Percy, who paused as they walked by him, looking anxious. Harry noticed Kingsley shake his head slightly, but not before inclining it towards the redheaded man.

Finally they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office. “Cupid cakes,” he murmured and it sprung aside. At Harry’s inquiring look, he smiled. “They’re a specialty a bakery in the wizarding portion of Manchester makes around Valentine’s Day. I haven’t changed my password yet.”

They hopped onto the rotating steps that took them up to Dumbledore’s office. Once inside, Dumbledore took out his wand and waved it, creating two chintz armchairs for Harry and Kingsley to sit on. Harry took his seat, wondering why they both wanted to talk to him. He wondered if he should have felt nervous, but Dumbledore’s smile had him feeling at ease.

“Well,” Dumbledore began, sitting down behind his desk, “you’re probably wondering why you’re here. Am I right, Harry?”

“Er—yes,” Harry murmured, looking back and forth between Dumbledore and Kingsley.

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Dumbledore told him, “for the investigation.”

“And for the Order,” Kingsley said, breaking his silence. “So please, Harry, tell us everything you can, okay?”

Again, Harry glanced between Dumbledore and Kingsley before nodding. “Of course. Any way I can be of help.”

A small grin formed on Kingsley’s face. “Good. We hoped you’d say that.”

“It’s not going to involve Veritaserum or Legilimency though, is it?” he asked, glancing at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore chuckled. “We trust you to give us an honest answer, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

“Alright then. This is for the investigation and it’s protocol, so don’t take offense to it, okay Harry? Where were you the night of October 31^st between the times of six PM and eight PM?”

Harry thought back. “On Halloween, I was in the Great Hall at six o’clock. I stayed until the feast ended at eight.”

“And what about January 16^th between the times of eight PM and ten PM?”

“At eight, I was still in Professor Lupin’s classroom conducting a D.A. meeting. It ended around nine.”

“You went to the dungeons,” Kingsley said. “Why?”

“Because—” Harry paused, considering whether or not he wanted to tell them about the letter.

“Please Harry, we have to know,” Kingsley said, “for the Order’s sake. Does it have something to do with You-Know-Who?”

He nodded. “I found a letter in my pocket that night, telling me that a girl was going to die at nine o’clock unless I could find her and rescue her.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dumbledore frown. “That’s why I went to the dungeons.”

“The letter told you it would take place in the dungeons?” Kingsley asked.

“No. It was…a deduction by Hermione and myself. A lot of intuition went into it,” Harry replied.

“Intuition?”

“Well, before my Occlumency lessons, I had been able to see into Voldemort’s mind,” he told Kingsley and watched his jaw twitch in reaction. “I guess some of that lingered.”

“Remus told us Ron was with you when you left, so why didn’t he accompany you and Hermione to the dungeons?” Kingsley asked.

“I—er—told him to go get something that may have helped us find her,” Harry said, scratching his shoulder uncomfortably.

“Go get what?”

“It’s not prudent to the investigation, Kingsley,” Dumbledore said.

Kingsley nodded. “Very well. Do you have any idea who put the letter in your pocket?”

“No,” Harry replied.

“Do you still have it?”

“Yes,” Harry said, nodding. “I’ve hidden it in my dorm.” He frowned. “Afraid it’s got a bit of blood on it though.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Dumbledore said gently. “Would you mind giving it to us though?”

He shook his head. “Anything to not remind me of it.”

Kingsley’s face looked very grave. “Then you’re going to hate my next question.”

Harry frowned. “Just ask it. I’ve relived that moment plenty of times already. Would you like to also know I stumbled upon June Winters?”

“Yes, please,” Kingsley said.

And so Harry related the tale, about running into Luna in the corridor and seeing that Moaning Myrtle had flooded the bathroom, causing them to go talk to her, and thus finding June’s body. He then spoke of the night Sinead died, and how he came across her, how she had been still alive.

“But the killer wasn’t there,” Harry said. “How could they have just vanished?”

“Disillusionment perhaps, but you would have noticed something moving,” Kingsley said.

Harry suddenly thought about something. “What about an invisibility cloak? Do you know anybody who owns one?” he asked, choosing his words carefully.

“Only Mad-Eye Moody,” Kingsley said, “and I’ve heard you have one yourself.”

“Yeah, but not a whole lot of people know about that,” Harry murmured.

“And it will remain that way,” Dumbledore said reassuringly.

“But you said Cassidy was still alive,” Kingsley said. “Did she see anything?”

“Her attacker wore a mask,” Harry said quietly, but did not mention the other thing Sinead had said.

“That figures,” Kingsley murmured. “Okay, Harry, I’m fresh out of questions for you. Thanks for cooperating.”

Harry nodded and began to get up, but Dumbledore held up his hand. “I have a question for you, Harry. Have you been receiving any more visions?”

He settled back down and shook his head. “None.”

“Very well. Is there anything you’d like to ask us?”

Harry frowned as a number of questions entered his mind. Again, choosing his words carefully, he turned to Kingsley and asked, “Your partners…can I trust them?”

Kingsley sat back and considered this. “I believe you’ve spent some time talking to Joaquin Crow, am I correct?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, “we’ve spoken on a couple different occasions.”

“Has he ever told you about his uncle?”

“His uncle?”

Kingsley nodded. “Yes, his uncle.”

Harry shook his head. “No. He’s spoken of his brother, and has mentioned his mother and father.”

“So then you know about his parents’ divorce?”

“He said they divorced in his fourth year and that his brother went with his mother to Spain while he stayed with his father so that he could take his O.W.L.s the following year,” Harry replied.

“But he didn’t tell you about his uncle, Jeremy Crow?”

“No.”

Kingsley nodded. “It’s rather personal. I only know about it because I was one of the Aurors who reported to the scene.”

“Reported to the scene?”

“When Crow’s parents divorced and his mother refused to take him back to Spain, his uncle took him in for the summer, and every summer after that, as Crow and his father have never gotten along very well. Crow’s father…well, he was a business man and he never spent time with his children, so naturally Crow was resentful. But his uncle was a very good man, widely respected, and Crow loved him dearly. See, Jeremy Crow was one of the first people to voice their objections to You-Know-Who’s rise to power. The Crows, while being a pureblood family, saw the importance of half-bloods and Muggle-borns. Jeremy Crow was an activist.”

“Was he in the Order?” Harry asked.

“No,” Dumbledore replied, “but he would have made an excellent member.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was murdered by Death Eaters the summer before Crow’s seventh year, and Crow witnessed the entire thing,” Kingsley replied.

“He came back to Hogwarts with such determination, I recall,” Dumbledore said. “He was bright enough that he was open to any career. At first, he wanted to become a Healer, but after his uncle’s death, he decided to become an Auror.”

“He had sworn vengeance against the Death Eaters who killed Jeremy,” Kingsley murmured. “And then, a month after he entered Auror training, you defeated You-Know-Who. We tracked down the Death Eaters who killed his uncle, so he never had the chance, but by talking to him these past months, I know that he’s shifted his vengeance to Death Eaters in general.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. His brain had fogged over with shock and sympathy. He shook his head to clear it and then asked, “Okay, what about Frost?”

“Mara Frost is a gifted individual,” Kingsley said. “She was in the same class as your father, actually. Not a very sociable woman though. She is probably the third-most authority in the entire Auror Division on the Dark Arts and the defense against them. She’s a very skilled dueler and knows a thing or two about potion making.”

“The only people to surpass her abilities in school were your parents and Sirius,” Dumbledore commented. “Professor Lupin was close.”

“She’s very thorough,” Kingsley added, “a bit of a control freak, and she can be secretive at times, but she’s a good Auror.”

“Nothing interesting about her past?” Harry asked.

At this, both Kingsley and Dumbledore frowned. “Nothing that is worth repeating,” Dumbledore replied. “Now, I have kept you away from your class for too long. Thank Professor McGonagall for me when you return to class, will you?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Good day, Harry.”

“Good day, sir,” Harry said, getting up.

“Thanks again, Harry,” Kingsley said. “Don’t forget to give one of us that letter.”

“I won’t,” Harry assured him and opened the door. “I can give it to you tomorrow morning before breakfast.”

“Very well, then. Good-bye.”

“Bye,” Harry replied, closing the door behind him as he exited.

*****

The next morning Harry handed the letter over to Kingsley to review with the Order.

“Thank you, Harry,” Kingsley said again, and stuffed it into his pocket.

He walked into the Great Hall, feeling as though a small weight had been lifted from his chest. There were still several more to go. He sat down next to Ron, who was chatting happily with Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. Harry smiled. He knew exactly what Ron was talking about.

“So anyway, because I’m not leaving for the Easter holiday, I’ll take the Apparition test a few days after we return home,” he was saying. “I can’t believe I’m going to be seventeen tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Dobby wants to know what type of cake you’d like,” Ginny said.

“You shouldn’t force the house elves to help with your party,” Hermione scolded.

“Dobby offered!” Ron retorted.

“He sure did,” Ginny agreed, grinning before letting her eyes go wide and altered the pitch of her voice to sound like Dobby’s. “Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter’s friend, Mr. Wheezy.”

Everyone but Hermione laughed. “Say Harry, d’you think we could somehow manage to sneak into Hogsmeade and get us some butterbeer?” Ron asked.

“Tonight?”

“Ron! Harry!” Hermione reprimanded.

“What? You only turn seventeen once!” Ron said. “I’d like for my birthday to be a blast. A party in the common room—everyone’s invited.”

“Including those whom you call ‘midgets,’ Ron?” Ginny asked, smirking.

“Sure, invite the midgets,” Ron said merrily, causing them to laugh again.

That evening, while everyone else was at dinner, Harry obliged the cheerful Ron by grabbing his invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map in order to sneak into Hogsmeade.

“This is going to be great!” Ron said enthusiastically.

Harry grinned before pulling out his wand and tapping the Marauder’s Map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Instantly, ink began to spread across the paper, mapping out Hogwarts.

“Hey, how about instead of getting some butterbeer, we get some firewhiskey from the Hog’s Head?” Ron asked.

“Hermione’ll kill us if she finds out what we’re doing,” Harry said as they headed out, covered underneath the invisibility cloak.

“Oh, what can she do to us?” Ron muttered. “Put us in detention?”

Harry snorted, and echoed the words Fred and George once said, “I’d love to see her try.”

Ron snickered. “I think the Marauders would be proud of us, don’t you think?”

“Sneaking out and causing mayhem? Definitely,” Harry replied. “My father would probably have been proud—his son the miscreant.”

The reached the statue of the hump-backed witch on the third floor. Harry pulled out his wand and tapped it, murmuring, “Dissendium.”

The hump on the witch’s back opened. “You go first, Ron,” Harry whispered. As soon as Ron was through, Harry followed right along behind him. At the bottom, Ron folded up the cloak and put it in his bag while Harry checked the Marauder’s Map. “Okay, let’s go.”

They traveled the length of the tunnel until they reached the steps leading up to Honeydukes’ cellar. Carefully and stealthily they climbed the steps, entered the cellar, climbed another set of stairs, and maneuvered their way out from behind the counter without anybody noticing them. They exited to the street easily, and Harry looked at his watch. “Honeydukes closes in an hour. We have to be back before they close or else we’ve got to find another way back to Hogwarts, and quite frankly, I don’t want to have to break into the Shrieking Shack.”

“No kidding,” Ron replied. “Let’s get to the Hog’s Head, get the firewhiskey, and be done with it.”

“Stay alert,” Harry advised. “You never know where spies and other nonentities are lurking.”

“I doubt Dung is in the Hog’s Head this evening,” Ron said, grinning. He remembered just as well as Harry did when they found out Mundungus Fletcher had been spying on them for the Order when the Hermione had invited everyone to start the D.A.

They continued walking and headed down the side street the Hog’s Head was located on. When they opened the door and walked in, they immediately noticed how the smell of goats permeated throughout the inn.

Ron wrinkled his nose. “You’d think they’d clean up in here sometime,” he whispered to Harry as they walked up to the bar.

“Be with you in a second,” the barman grunted as he filled up a dusty looking glass with ale.

Harry and Ron turned to take a good look at the inn. People were drinking—some were talking to others, but most appeared to keep to themselves. Suddenly, with a loud THUD, a man fell backwards off his barstool as another man dived after him, all the while punching. In a corner, another man, Harry saw, looked quite green in the face. He saw the man turn and hurl on the floor.

“Yuck!” Ron murmured, watching the sick man too.

The brawl continued, many of the patrons hooting and hollering, as the man who had fallen to the floor slugged the other man right in the face.

“Oooh! Youngun’s!” said somebody with a scratchy voice from beside Ron, causing both him and Harry to jump. He was a short old man, with long straggly white hair and yellow teeth, most of which were missing. His stomach stuck out between his holey shirt and sagging pants. “Comes here to gets a drink, eh? Ah, you’re good boys. How old, eh? Just barely seventeen?” He chuckled. “I started when I was seventeen. Been drinking lots, I have. They says it’s bad for you, but looks at me! I’m quite healthy!” He showed off his missing yellow teeth again.

“What can I get for you?” asked the barman behind them, causing them to jump again.

“Er—butterbeers,” Ron said, giving the old man a terrified look. “Definitely butterbeers.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, slapping some gold onto the bar. “However many that will get us.”

*****

Hermione did not learn about Harry and Ron’s evening in Hogsmeade until the following morning when she and Harry were giving their birthday gifts to Ron.

“I can’t believe you snuck into Hogsmeade!” she chided.

“Hermione, don’t scold us for one day, would you? It’s my birthday,” Ron groaned.

“So it means you’re allowed to be reckless?” she asked.

“It means I can have fun,” he said.

She scowled. “Here,” she said, handing over her gift. “Happy birthday.”

Ron opened it up. “Er—what’s this?” he asked, holding up a bronze disk about the size of the palm of his hand. Emblazoned on it was the figure of a man tied to a tree with an arrow through his heart.

“It’s a medallion,” Hermione told him, “of Saint Sebastian. He’s the patron saint of athletes, among other things. He’s supposed to give you good luck.”

Harry pulled on the gold chain around his neck, dragging his Golden Snitch pendant out from underneath his shirt. He wondered if his necklace was supposed to symbolize something.

“I didn’t know you believed in luck,” Ron teased.

“I believe in skill, but a little luck is required on some things from time to time,” she said.

Ron laughed. “Thanks for the present, Hermione,” he said, tossing it lightly into the air.

Harry handed over his gift. “It isn’t quite as symbolic as Hermione’s, but it will have to do.”

Ron tore it open. “Holy hell! Chudley Cannons Quidditch collection cards!” he said, jumping up. “Wicked! Thanks, Harry!”

Harry grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Ron received several more gifts throughout the day. Through the mail, Fred and George sent him sent him one of their newest items, Flatulent Fudge. Ron looked over at Harry, a glint in his eyes, and asked, “Who should we give these to?”

Harry scanned the Great Hall until his eyes came upon Crabbe and Goyle, who were stuffing their faces. He grinned. “Targets identified,” he murmured.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You two are certainly up to a lot of mischief these days.”

“After all of the hell we go through, don’t you think we deserve it?” Ron asked, grinning.

“I won’t have anything to do with this plot,” she stated.

“Of course not, Hermione,” Ron said. “You’re shooting for Head Girl.”

“That’s not the reason,” she said.

“Then why won’t you help us?” Ron asked.

“Because I don’t want to be anywhere near Crabbe and Goyle when you give those things to them,” she said, going back to her breakfast.

“Here, hand over that package,” Harry said. Ron picked it up and gave it to him; Harry began to read. “Ah, thank you Fred and George. They’re geniuses. Look here,” he said, pointing to the instructions on the label. “Mayhem will begin five minutes after fudge is administered.”

“Hey, if we time this right, they could possibly gas the entire Slytherin common room!” Ron said excitedly.

“You could perform a Switching Spell and make sure it’s the last thing they eat before they leave,” Hermione said vaguely.

Harry smirked. “I thought you weren’t in on this?”

Hermione shrugged. “I’m not. I’m just thinking out loud.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but was grinning just the same.

*****

The day went by rather uneventfully. Harry and Ron carefully planned out what they would do at dinner and when it finally came, they couldn’t have been more excited. They sat at the Gryffindor table, eating happily and watching Crabbe and Goyle. Suddenly, someone came up and tapped Ron on the shoulder. Both he and Harry looked up to see Luna Lovegood standing by them.

“Hello,” she said. “Happy birthday.”

“Er—thanks,” Ron said, shifting uncomfortably.

“Here,” she said, holding out something for him. “You mentioned you still needed it.”

He accepted the gift—a chocolate frog card, Harry realized—and looked at it. His eyes grew wide. “Mother of Merlin!” he gasped. “It’s Agrippa!” He stared up at Luna in awe. “Where’d you find it?”

“In my collection. I thought you’d like it,” she said hazily.

He looked back down at the card. “Thanks, Luna,” he murmured. “Is there a certain card you want in return?”

“No,” she replied. “I don’t want anything in return.”

“No really,” Ron insisted, “I should do something for you in return.”

Luna laughed. “Ronald, it’s a birthday present, although I wouldn’t mind a picnic,” she added vaguely.

“But it’s cold outside,” Ron said blankly.

“Who said anything about going outside?” she asked, smiling slightly. “Happy birthday again, Ronald.”

He watched her go and then looked down at the card in his hand. “Incredible,” he whispered.

Harry caught movement on the other side of the Hall out of the corner of his eye. “Malfoy’s leaving,” he murmured to Ron. “That means Crabbe and Goyle won’t be far behind. Let’s get this over with.”

They quickly performed a Switching Spell on the fudge, swapping it for two harmless pieces of chocolate that sat on both Crabbe and Goyle’s plates. Then they watched as they picked up the fudge and popped it into their mouths before getting up and heading out of the Great Hall.

“Shall we follow them?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, but not too close. I don’t want to smell anything,” Ron said.

Harry grinned. “See you in the common room,” he said to Hermione, who was reading something and not paying the least amount of attention to Harry or Ron.

They casually walked out of the Great Hall. Ron stopped, pretending to tie his shoe, to let Crabbe and Goyle get far ahead of them. Then they crossed over and entered the dungeons. Harry searched around for a safe place. “There,” he said, pointing to a large niche in the wall. “That should do nicely.”

Harry and Ron quickly jumped into it, waiting. A few minutes later, they heard the pounding of feet and people gasping for air. “You blokes are gross!” they heard somebody yell.

“Move! Move!” someone else shouted. “Get us out of here!”

Then they heard Malfoy’s voice. “Crabbe! Goyle! There’s no way in hell you’re sleeping in the dormitory tonight!”

Harry and Ron snickered, giving each other congratulatory high fives. “Let’s get to your party,” Harry said and ducked out of the niche, heading back to the common room with Ron, grinning all the way.

*****

Ron’s party went over extremely well. Ron told the entire common room about the Flatulent Fudge and what he and Harry had pulled. The Gryffindors roared in laughter. Dean slapped Ron on the back. “You’ve got to hand it to your brothers,” he said. “Those two really know what they’re doing.”

“Hey Ron, do you think you could get me some of that stuff to use on people?” Dylan asked, grinning. “To give the Slytherins another dosage?”

Ron laughed. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

By the time Harry fell into bed, he was extremely sleepy, and he was in a very good mood. He was happy that Ron had had such a nice birthday, and that nothing had brought it down. He slipped into sleep, grinning.

He was in a room, sitting, and others were standing before him. It was dark, a fire in the hearth giving off the only light in the room. The faces before them, half-lit, were a pasty white.

“Do you understand your mission?” he asked them.

“Aye, we understand,” said one of the men.

“And you understand that you are to do this as stealthily as possible?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“Only kill those who get in your way and complete your mission,” he said. “Oh, and I will know if you do something funny. My pet, Nagini, will be going with you.”

The men glanced down as the large snake hissed and slithered into view. “Don’t vorry,” another one of the men said. “Ve shall carry out our mission.”

“Excellent,” Harry said. “My followers are currently carrying out a ploy to distract the Aurors. You should have little trouble. Now go.”

They bowed and exited. When Harry was alone, he looked down at the snake. “You shall be my eyes tonight, my pet,” he murmured and then suddenly, Harry found himself on the floor, slithering out of the room after the men.

Harry traveled out to a large room with several fireplaces. The men threw powder into them, and emerald flame erupted. Harry quickly slipped into a fireplace with one of the men as he yelled in a raspy voice, “The Ministry of Magic!”

Harry felt himself whirl around and around until he reached his destination. He slithered out of the fireplace and into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, following the men. One of them smiled, and he caught a glimpse of white fangs. Vampires.

It was late. The only person in the Atrium was Eric, the security guard whom Harry had met the year before. He stood up, wide-eyed. “Stop!” he shouted, pointing his wand at the vampires. They smiled.

“I think he means to get in our way,” one of them said and advanced on him, as did several of his cronies.

Harry did not watch, but he heard the screams as he continued on, following the men to the lifts and heading down. When they got off, he slithered along behind them as they walked down the corridor. They came across a young woman, who gasped.

“She’s in our vay,” a vampire said and grabbed her, closing his hand over her mouth to muffle her scream.

“This door,” somebody said and opened it, leading them into an anteroom. They looked around. One of them pointed to another door. They carefully and quietly walked over to it. A vampire with dark brown hair knocked.

“Judith? Is that you?” came a familiar voice. “Come in.”

The vampires smiled. A violet haired vampire kicked open the door. “Surprise!” he shouted.

Harry slithered inside as the vampires swarmed in. Harry rose up and saw the face of Cornelius Fudge, looking frightened and alarmed. “Sweet Merlin!” he cried.

“Aurors are out handling a Muggle attack and you’re all alone,” a vampire taunted. “What a shame. We would have liked more blood.”

And as they crowded around Fudge, Harry turned away. When he heard Fudge’s scream, he screamed himself and jerked awake.

“Oi! What is it?” Ron asked groggily as Harry launched himself out of his bed and pulled on a robe. He felt sick, but he had to get to Dumbledore. He put his shoes on and ran towards the door. “Wait! Where are you going?” Ron asked.

“Vision…Dumbledore,” Harry mumbled, pulling the door open and running out.

He jumped down the spiral steps three at a time and ran through the common room, out of the portrait hole, and down the corridor. He took every shortcut he could think of to Dumbledore’s office. Then, when he reached the stone gargoyle, he cried, “Cupid cakes!”

Nothing happened.

“What? No!” he groaned. “You can’t have changed the password on me! Dammit! Er—chocolate frogs? Sugar quill? Cauldron cakes? Licorice wand?” The gargoyle suddenly moved aside. Harry sighed and ran up the rotating stairwell before pounding on Dumbledore’s door.

“Come in,” he heard from behind the door. As he pushed open the door, part of Harry’s brain that wasn’t in panic mode wondered how Dumbledore could stay up so late.

“Professor Dumbledore—”

“Harry? What it is? Did you have a vision?” Dumbledore asked, quickly standing up and moving around his desk.

“Yes!” Harry gasped. “Voldemort—he sent vampires! Fudge is dead!”

Dumbledore stiffened. “You’re sure of what you saw?”

“Yes,” Harry said, breathing deeply. “I went to bed and I was in Voldemort’s head, but then I was in his snake’s. He must have possessed it.”

“I must leave immediately,” Dumbledore said, grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill before scribbling down a note and handing it to his phoenix, Fawkes. “Take this to Minerva,” he murmured to the bird. It blinked before bursting into flame and disappearing.

“What should I do, Professor?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done everything you can, Harry. I truly thank you for coming to me immediately. Now, go back to bed, clear your mind, and try to get some sleep. I will return when I can.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “Sir? What does this mean for the wizarding world?”

Dumbledore frowned. “Chaos—exactly what Voldemort wanted.” Suddenly Fawkes returned. Dumbledore took hold of his tail, and, looking grim, disappeared with a burst of flame.

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.”

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! It’s time to end the cliffhanger that made you all go “ewww!” Thank you everyone for your reviews. On June 17th, I noticed over on PK’s forums that it was dolphingurl’s birthday, so a happy belated birthday to her. I’d like to dedicate this chapter to her as sort of a late birthday present. Many thanks to Nitya for her speedy beta job. You rock girl!

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

REVELATIONS

“Go to Dumbledore, Harry, now!” Hermione told him. “He must know this immediately.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, you’re right. The Order must know this. I just hope Professor Dumbledore is up this late at night.” He got up and headed to the portrait hole. “Erm—Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Her features, which looked so alarmed only moments ago, softened into a smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll stay up for you.”

“Okay,” he said and left.

He found Professor Dumbledore, however, not in his office, but on the first floor with Professor Trelawney and the centaur Firenze. Professor Trelawney was looking dazed and confused while Firenze spoke to Dumbledore.

“Mars continues to be bright, but I saw both Phobos and Deimos tonight, the small moons of Mars. Something gravely important has happened,” Firenze said.

“My discussion with Professor Trelawney just now has also speculated as such,” Dumbledore said, to which Professor Trelawney spun and looked at him, amazed.

“I don’t recall giving you any warnings, Professor,” she said.

“My dear, you made a prophecy,” Dumbledore informed her.

Firenze frowned.

“A prophecy? Then why don’t I remember it?”

“Professor Dumbledore!” Harry called, rushing down the stairs.

Dumbledore turned. “Harry? What is it?”

“I know what that important thing is,” Harry said, reaching the bottom where he commenced to try to catch his breath—running from Gryffindor Tower to the first floor could be quite the chore.

Professor Trelawney looked quite excited. “You saw? You had a vision?” she asked, grabbing Harry by the upper arms and looking into his eyes wildly.

“If you could call it that,” Harry said, glancing up at Professor Dumbledore, a plea in his eyes.

“Sibyll, I’m afraid that is all I will need you for tonight. Try to get a decent night’s sleep. Firenze, I thank you deeply for your report. It is an honor to have you here,” Dumbledore said, moving to Harry’s side.

“The honor is mine,” Firenze said before turning and walking away.

“Harry, if you would accompany me, please,” Dumbledore said as he started back towards his office.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, falling into step behind Dumbledore. Once they were out of earshot of the others, he asked, “Sir, may I ask what Professor Trelawney said in her prophecy?”

“Certainly. Reciting it is a good way to help an old man remember. ‘The month of war is at its end but the constellation Aries still reigns...A new power has arisen from the darkness; it will serve its master well…All innocence shall became tainted, no purity will remain…But there is still hope if the power is taken away…’ I look forward to whatever light you may shine upon this, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

They reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore muttered the password, and both he and Harry rode the revolving stairwell up to his office where Dumbledore opened the door and ushered him inside.

“Now, Harry, tell me what you’ve seen,” he said once he sat behind his desk.

“They were just flashes really,” Harry said, “but they were clear. I was in Voldemort’s head and I saw…I saw a baby before I felt his…pleasure.”

Dumbledore sat back and steepled his fingers. “A child,” he murmured.

“Seth.”

He glanced back at Harry. “Seth? How appropriate for Voldemort. The Egyptian God of War, Strength, and, in the myths later on, Evil. I’m surprised he didn’t choose ‘Anubis.’ That seems more fitting of his style.”

“Sir?”

“Anubis was the God of Death,” Dumbledore told him.

“Oh.”

Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked to the window. “This is a very interesting turn of events. I can only imagine the plans Voldemort has for his son. Yet again, this may just turn back to his quest for immortality. Some people say that having offspring—continuing the bloodline—is the only way for immortality. He will pass his evil onto his son.”

“I think…I think that Bellatrix Lestrange is the baby’s mother,” Harry said darkly.

“That does not surprise me. Bellatrix has always been his favorite female Death Eater. But the maternity of the child does not matter,” he said, turning back to Harry. “Voldemort will not care about that—he will only think of the opportunities the child will present.” He looked pensive for a moment. “He does not know love; therefore he could never provide his own son with it. I daresay that the child, if left in the care of Lord Voldemort alone, could die.”

“Die?”

“Oh, a child can be provided with everything he or she needs, but if he or she is not given an ounce of affection, the child will die,” Dumbledore explained.

He sat down and brooded before looking back up at Harry and asking, “Do you have an idea of where they were—the child and Voldemort?”

“All I saw was a cellar and then a room. I don’t know,” Harry replied.

“Does Voldemort know that you have this information?” he asked.

“No. At least, I don’t think he does. He didn’t seem like he detected me,” Harry replied.

Dumbledore nodded. “Very well. It’s late. You should head off back to your dorm and try to have a good night’s sleep.”

Harry got up, ready to exit.

“But Harry—”

“Yes?”

“Try to clear your mind beforehand,” Dumbledore advised.

“Yes, sir. Good night.”

“Good night, Harry.”

*****

When Harry returned to the common room he found not only Hermione waiting up for him, but Ron too.

“When did you wake up?” Harry asked when he entered.

Ron yawned and pointed in Hermione’s direction. “She actually had the—” He yawned again. “—nerve to go up to our dorm—a room filled with four sleeping boys, mind you—and wake me up.” He yawned for a third time. “And I was having a nice dream.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you want to know the latest on Voldemort?” she asked.

He shuddered, but the sleep had left his eyes. “Is that what you woke me up for?” He looked over at Harry. “What’d you see, mate?”

Harry grimaced. “A baby.”

Ron’s brows furrowed. “A baby? How does that have to deal with You-Know-Who?”

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be thick, Ron—wake up and put two and two together!”

He scowled. “I’m thinking, I’m think…EWW!” He looked desperately at Harry. “Please tell me what I’m thinking isn’t true!”

“Well, if you’re thinking that Voldemort now has a baby, you’re right. He has a son,” Harry told him and watched as Ron went an unpleasant shade of green.

“Who on earth would shag him?” Ron gasped.

Hermione frowned. “That’s what I’ve been wondering.”

“Well, the mother is Bellatrix Lestrange, but I…” he trailed off and sat down on a sofa, thinking.

“You what?” Ron asked.

“I don’t think that’s the way the baby was conceived,” Harry said.

This time Ron’s eyebrows raised. “And what other way is there to make a baby?”

“Well, Muggles have different ways of conceiving a child, other than…that way,” Hermione said.

“Like what?” Ron demanded.

“Well, surrogate motherhood, donors, in vitro fertilization…”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s when a woman has her eggs—”

“Stop! Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Ron said, cringing.

Suddenly, a voice drifted up into Harry’s mind…an echo from a dream.

“As stupid as the Muggle ways are, sometimes they can be useful.”

“That’s it,” Harry whispered. “That’s how Voldemort did it!”

“What? In vitro?”

“Yes! I had a dream over the summer involving Voldemort and Wormtail when he found out that the procedure had been a success. He may hate Muggles, but he had to use their technology to quietly have one of his most faithful Death Eaters impregnated!”

“That’s brilliant, Harry,” Hermione said, grinning. “Brilliant, if not disgusting.”

“Huh?” was Ron’s response.

“Don’t ask, Ron,” she advised. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

*****

Before any of them knew it, the Easter holiday was upon them and Hermione was ready to go. Her trunk was packed and she was waiting for the carriages to arrive to take her to Hogsmeade station. Harry was going to miss her. He and Ron stood outside of the castle, waiting with her.

“Well, it’s only a week,” Hermione said, although it sounded like it was more for herself than either Harry or Ron.

“Yeah, here’s hoping it doesn’t rain on you all the while you’re home,” Ron said with a grin.

“Thanks Ron,” she said and rolled her eyes before hugging him. “See you.”

“Bye,” he murmured before releasing her.

She turned to Harry. “Take care of yourself,” she said, hugging him too. “Try not to have any more visions.”

He laughed. “I’ll try,” he said as he pulled away and looked into her eyes. “You take care of yourself too.”

“I will,” she promised as the carriages arrived. “I better go.”

He nodded. “See you in a week.”

She smiled. “Bye.”

With that, she grabbed her trunk and walked to a carriage. Before she entered, she turned back and waved good-bye.

Harry waved, as did Ron. “A week without Hermione,” Harry said sadly.

“I know. At least we won’t have her nagging us about our homework,” Ron said.

Harry gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah.”

They stayed there until the carriages rolled away. Ron turned to Harry and asked, “So mate, it’s just you and me. What do you want to do?”

“I dunno. What do you feel like doing?”

He shrugged. “Nothing really. How about a wizard’s chess match?”

“Yeah, sure. Okay,” Harry replied, and followed Ron back up to the common room, but his mind was on the train and with Hermione, while his new-found feelings made his heart ache as he already had begun to miss her.

*****

A couple of hours later found Harry in the Room of Requirement. Ron had successfully defeated him in wizard’s chess six times before Harry called it quits. When he got up to leave, Ron had asked him where he was going, and Harry merely told him that he was going to the library to get some homework done.

“Merlin, what has Hermione done to you?” Ron groaned.

Harry chuckled as he thought about it. Wait until Ron found out about what he was really doing.

Harry examined the broomstick floating in midair in front of him. He thought it looked good. He had applied all of the spells and charms that were required on a broomstick—Cushioning Charms, Braking Charms…the works. He was steadily going through the list that Professor Lupin had written for him, adding the specialty ones as well. It was almost done.

“All that’s left is this Anti-Hexing Charm and that’s it,” Harry said to himself. He grinned. He couldn’t wait to take the broom out for a test flight. The end drawing near, he inhaled excitedly, waved his wand, and murmured the incantation. The broomstick glowed red for several moments, and then dropped to the floor. Harry bent over and scooped it up, examining every detail of it. He had created that broom—the broom that the Marauders were going to make. He just hoped it worked.

Grinning, he decided to finally tell Ron about his secret project. He checked his watch. It was nearly dinnertime. Harry figured he could find his best friend already down in the Great Hall. He sighed. Morning would be a much better time to give his broom a test flight. He’d wait to tell Ron about it until then.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” he told the room. “Please keep this stuff safe until then.”

The room shimmered and then everything, like always, disappeared. Harry grinned again, before opening the door and leaving.

After dinner, Ron and Ginny settled down on the floor in front of the fire to play a game of Exploding Snap. They had invited Harry to join them, but he had declined with a smile before going up to the dormitory and getting out his mother’s diary once again. He got through the rest of February and read all of March’s entries of her fifth year. April came and went before he read through the panic of May as her O.W.L.s drew nearer. Before he knew it, he was into June’s entries when Ron opened the door tiredly. He quickly closed the diary and slid it under his pillow.

“Hey Harry,” Ron greeted, and yawned. “What were you reading?”

Harry frowned. He had hoped that Ron wouldn’t have noticed. “Oh, just some book Hermione said I should read sometime,” he lied, turning away and glancing out the window.

“What’s it about?” he asked.

“Er—” He racked his brain. Suddenly he had remembered something Hermione had told him about long ago. “It’s actually a very long poem. Ever heard of Beowulf?”

Ron gave him a reproachful look. “You’re reading that?”

“I take it you have,” Harry replied with a smirk. He really wanted to give a sigh of relief. “It’s not that bad, really—monsters and all.”

“Haven’t you had enough monsters in your life already, Harry?” Ron asked as he dug around in his trunk for something to sleep in.

“Yes, but this one isn’t real,” Harry said.

Ron looked over at him as he pulled out a pair of pajamas. “So you’re a fan of monsters you don’t have to kill?”

Harry laughed. “You could say that.”

He shook his head. “Mate, whether you like monsters in real life or in fairy tales, you’re weird.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry murmured before laughing again.

*****

The next morning found Harry and Ron right outside of the Room of Requirement as Harry paced three times, concentrating hard.

“What is it that you want to show me?” he asked as Harry paced.

“Just wait,” Harry told him as the door finally appeared. He turned to Ron and grinned. “Ready?”

“I’ve been bloody well ready since you said, ‘Hey Ron, come with me. I’ve got something you’ll want to see.’ That was ten bloody minutes ago!”

“Okay, okay,” Harry said with a laugh as he opened up the door before stepping inside, Ron following right on his heels. Before them was the Phoenix, hovering a mere inch above the worktable Harry had used to make it.

“Holy s—”

“What do you think?” Harry asked.

“When did you do this?” Ron queried, gaping. “How did you know how to do it?”

“When Hermione and I went into Sirius’s vault this past summer we found some blueprints of a broom that he, my father, and Professor Lupin were going to make. I sort of…decided to make it in their honor,” Harry explained.

Ron turned back to him, still gaping. “And you didn’t ask me to help?”

Harry shrugged. “I wanted to do this on my own. It’s called the Phoenix.”

“When did you find time to do this?”

“Off and on. I started it right after Sinead’s death.” He frowned.

Ron gave him a skeptical look. “It only took you four months to make this? Are you sure it works?”

“I dunno. That’s what today’s for. I would like to take it on a test flight.”

Ron’s eyes widened in horror. “Is that what you wanted me for?”

Harry laughed. “No, I’ll test my own invention. But I want you there in case I actually get off the ground and plummet to my death.”

“Not funny, Harry.” He examined the broom before whistling appreciatively. “Even if it doesn’t work, it’s still a thing of beauty. Absolutely wicked, Harry.” He touched the shaft before turning back towards Harry with a gleam in his eye. “Let’s take it out for a test spin.”

Harry stepped forward and grabbed the broom, letting Ron lead him as they headed outside. “If this works,” Harry was telling him, “I have to let Professor Lupin know.”

“Why?”

“Because he gave me the list of spells I used on this,” Harry explained. “And I promised I’d let him have a go on it when I was done.”

Ron just laughed. “Sounds like the boy in him is trying to come out,” he said in between chuckles.

“I guess so.” They walked into an open field. “Ready?”

“Yeah. I want to see how fast it can accelerate,” Ron said eagerly.

“I have no idea, but we’re about to find out,” Harry said as he swung his leg over the broomstick. He made a silent prayer, hoping that it would work. Then, he kicked off from the ground and, to his amazement, he soared like a bullet into the air. He heard Ron’s whoop of excitement as Harry guided the broom around. It was as though he was just riding his Firebolt. Harry couldn’t believe it. He laughed and gave a yell of triumph as he soared around.

“Hey Ron!” he yelled down. “Go find Professor Lupin! He’s got to see this!”

Ron gave him a thumbs up and ran off while Harry maneuvered around, enjoying the wind as it blew through his hair. He decided to see just how fast the broom could go, so he laid flat against the handle and tore off like a rocket. For a moment, he wondered just how fast he was going. It certainly felt like he was going as fast, if not faster, than he could on his Firebolt. He made a loop and headed back for the castle, slowing down so that he could spot Ron and Professor Lupin when they approached. He did not have to wait very long.

Ron and Lupin were sprinting out to the field. Harry almost laughed at the sight. He flew down to meet them.

When Lupin saw him, his eyes went wide. “Sweet Mother of Merlin, it works!”

Harry landed neatly and dismounted. “So, who wants to give it a try?”

“How fast does it go?” Lupin asked as he marveled at the broom.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out,” Harry said, grinning.

“I’ll have a go on it,” Ron said. “You two can run tests and stuff.”

Harry handed the broom over to Ron. “Okay. Be careful though. Honestly, I had this odd feeling that I was going faster than what I could do on my Firebolt. Do you think that’s possible, Professor?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. After all, the Firebolt can achieve what speed how fast?” Lupin said as Ron mounted the broomstick.

“One-hundred and fifty miles per hour in just ten seconds,” Ron recited.

Lupin laughed. “Ron, you sound like a broomstick magazine.”

“There aren’t any kinks in this thing, are there?” he asked Harry.

“I don’t think so. We’ll see if it bucks you off,” Harry replied with a wink.

“Gee, thanks,” Ron muttered.

Lupin raised his wand and muttered a spell. The Phoenix glowed a bright orange for a moment, and then went back to its normal color. “Okay, Ron, give us a show.”

He nodded. “Okay.” Then he kicked off from the ground and tore into the air while Lupin timed him with his watch.

After ten seconds, Lupin flicked his wand. Suddenly, readouts appeared in the air before them. “Well, would you look at that,” Lupin murmured, turning to Harry and grinning. “It’s actually five miles per hour faster than the Firebolt.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Lupin said, laughing. “Harry, you did it! You made the Marauders’ broom! I know your father would have been so proud—Sirius too.” He grinned. “And I’m proud of you too.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, an immense pride bringing a bright smile to his face. “I just can’t believe it actually works!”

Lupin laughed. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. So,” His eyes sparkled, “when Ron’s done, would you mind if I had a turn?”

“Not at all. I mean, the broom is your design,” Harry said.

“James and Sirius’ actually. Peter and I only had a little input,” Lupin told him.

“I wouldn’t think that Wormtail would have had much input in it,” Harry said darkly. “He wasn’t the brightest now, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t, that’s certainly true,” Lupin agreed as Ron came in for a landing, laughing the entire way.

“That was wicked!” he said.

“Professor Lupin would like a turn now,” Harry told him.

“Okay. Careful though, Professor—it’s really fast! How’d the test go?” Ron asked.

“One-fifty-five,” Harry replied as Lupin took off.

“Blimey! That’s faster than the Firebolt!” Ron exclaimed.

“I know.”

“Bloody hell!” he said in awe.

After Professor Lupin had finished his turn, he excused himself and went back to the castle. Harry and Ron spent the rest of the morning and a good part of the afternoon taking turns on the Phoenix.

“Harry,” Ron said after he landed again, “I think you may want to adjust whatever Cushioning Charm you used. Being up there for more than fifteen minutes doesn’t exactly feel good.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll check into it.”

“I think I’m ready to go inside. My arse is killing me,” Ron said. Harry noticed that he was walking a little bowlegged.

“Alright,” Harry agreed, taking the broomstick back from Ron.

“It’s a great broom though, Harry,” Ron said.

Harry grinned and looked down at the broom. He’d have to research a new Cushioning Charm, or maybe use the patented one, before he could fly it again. Provided, he thought as his feelings suddenly and unexplainably grew sour, that I live that long. After all, how much longer did he have before Voldemort decided it was time to kill him?

“Hey Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“Er—I was just thinking…well, if something were to ever happen to me, I’d want you to have the broom,” Harry said awkwardly.

Ron stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Harry frowned. He didn’t know about the prophecy. He didn’t know that Harry was probably never going to live to his twentieth birthday. He didn’t know that it was up to Harry to try to kill Voldemort. But he should, Harry decided. Ron was his best friend, and it was time to bring him into the loop. “What I mean is that I may not live long enough to truly use it.”

“What are you talking about? Does this have something to do with You-Know-Who? You’ve beaten him before—”

“But can I be lucky enough to beat him again? That’s the question, Ron,” Harry said grimly.

“Can’t somebody else do it? You’ve had too many turns with You-Know-Who.”

“No, Ron, only I can.”

“Why?”

Harry sighed. “D’you remember that prophecy that Voldemort—” Ron cringed. “—wanted me to get from the Department of Mysteries last summer?”

“Yes, of course I do, but you said that Neville dropped—”

“He did, but I know what it says anyway, thanks to Professor Dumbledore.”

Ron’s eyes went wide. “Professor Dumbledore knew what it said?”

“Yes,” Harry replied.

“Then why didn’t he tell you before?” Ron asked, outraged.

“He didn’t think I was ready,” Harry replied.

“That’s bullocks!” Ron muttered darkly before looking up anxiously at Harry. “So what did the prophecy say?”

Harry took a deep breath and recited the words that had been engrained into his memory. “‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but He will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.’ ”

Ron stared at him. “Bloody hell…you’ve got to kill him—”

“Or he has to kill me,” Harry finished. “Cheery, isn’t it?”

He looked mortified. “That’s awful! Fate has certainly dealt you a crappy hand, mate.”

“Yeah, no kidding. But Ron, you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“What about Hermione?”

Harry grimaced. “She—er—already knows.”

“WHAT?”

“Shush!” Harry urged.

“You told her already? And you didn’t tell me? When did you tell her?” Ron demanded.

“It was on accident! I didn’t mean to tell her, really. It just sort of slipped out,” Harry said lamely.

“When did you tell her?” Ron repeated.

Harry sighed. “The day after Christmas.”

“Christmas!” he hissed.

“I should have told you sooner, I know, but I didn’t want you freaking out about it,” Harry said. “I didn’t want you to treat me differently, knowing that I’m a marked man and that I may die tomorrow, next month, or twelve years from now! It’s my burden and I really didn’t want to have to share my burden with either you or Hermione. But now you know. Now you know what it means to be Harry Potter.”

Ron looked quite ashamed. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry I’m acting like a prat.” He frowned. “Is that the reason why you’ve been spending so much time with Hermione? Are you two preparing or something?”

Harry shook his head. “No, Hermione and I are simply studying. She’s—er—well, she’s actually tutoring me.”

“Tutoring? Why?”

He couldn’t tell Ron about trying to become Head Boy. He didn’t want to deliver two blows in one day. “I figure I might as well do my best and receive some good marks before I die.”

Ron frowned. “Does she know that’s your motive behind it?”

Harry shook his head. “And you’re not going to tell her it is.”

“No,” Ron said. “I won’t tell her.”

“Thanks.” Harry looked up at the sky. “Storm clouds are coming,” he murmured to the darkening western sky. “We had better get back inside the castle.”

By the time they got to the great oak front doors, it was beginning to sprinkle. Both Harry and Ron could hear the thunder in the distance.

“Glad we’re no longer out there,” Ron said

Harry nodded. They headed up the stairs, and were well on their way to Gryffindor Tower when they ran into Professor McGonagall.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” Harry greeted.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Potter, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for the past couple of days. Would you follow me, please?” McGonagall asked.

“Er—sure. Ron, would you take this?” he asked, handing the Phoenix to him before following McGonagall back down the stairs.

“Now,” McGonagall said when they were seated in her office, “I would like to talk to you about your marks this past term.”

Harry gulped. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No. On the contrary, your marks this past term are the best I’ve ever seen out of you. Even Professor Snape could not muster up an excuse to give you a poor mark. You’ve done exceptionally well this term, Mr. Potter—nearly as well as Hermione Granger.” She looked at him sternly over the top of her glasses. “I’ve always known that you have been capable of such marks, but what I am wondering is, why now? Why is it that only now are you getting good marks?”

Harry frowned. “I guess I never really cared before. As long as I survived the year and moved on to the next one, I was happy.”

“Does that not satisfy you any longer?” McGonagall asked.

He scratched his head absently. “I guess it doesn’t anymore. My parents were the Head Boy and Girl and I’m…I’m nothing.”

“You’re the captain of the Quidditch team,” Professor McGonagall reminded him.

“And how long did it take you to convince Professor Dumbledore?” Harry demanded, anger stirring inside of him. “He feels that I can’t handle any burden placed on me, like I’m some fragile piece of china! He didn’t make me prefect even though me, you and him knew that I should have been one. I know he was hesitant about making me Quidditch captain. And I know that he’ll pass me over yet again for Head Boy, just because he thinks I ‘can’t handle’ it. Where does he get off saying that anyway?”

“Albus Dumbledore is one of the wisest men I know, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. “But even wise men make mistakes, as I know he did in concerns to the prefect’s badge and you. Believe me when I say that he may have underestimated you once, but he will not do so again. One other thing, Mr. Potter—do not presume that you are the front-runner for becoming Head Boy next year and that you are even worthy. There are several candidates and your lack of maturity here makes me wonder if I should nominate you at all. There are gentlemen in your year who possess just as much leadership abilities as you have, and have the maturity and the marks to back it up. Do not blame Professor Dumbledore for your lack of success—you’ve had quite the hand in it yourself!

“However, generally I find you to be a mature young man and I can understand your frustration about the prefect’s badge. While I am surprised that Professor Dumbledore told you in the first place, any jealousy you may feel towards Mr. Weasley is well hidden and you have not let any ill feelings ruin your friendship. I find that admirable. And in these dark times there is no question that you have the most experience of all of the students in the school when it comes to sticky situations. You possess a great amount of leadership ability. The younger students in that little organization of yours admire you greatly, even though I doubt you realize it. You truly have the capacity to be Head Boy, Potter, and your improvement in your marks only shows how much you desire to be recognized. But don’t get your hopes up. There are several young men that the staff can and will consider to recommend. Your improvements could be deemed too little too late. I’m terribly sorry, Potter, but I doubt that you will take after your father and become Head Boy.”

A heavy weight had settled in Harry’s chest. “It’s alright,” he murmured quietly. “I’ve screwed up over the years, I know. I guess—I guess I just wanted to make something of my life before it all comes crashing down, and the war takes it over completely.” He got up. “Thank you, Professor McGonagall.”

“Mr. Potter, you can do a lot more than you think you can do and you can be a lot more than you think you can be,” she told him. “Remember that.”

He nodded slightly and exited, heading back towards Gryffindor Tower. He felt angry and sad at the same time. All of that work, all of that time Hermione had wasted to tutor him; all of it might be for nothing. He sighed as he approached the Fat Lady.

“April showers,” he said, and the portrait swung forward.

He expected to find Ron sitting in the common room, waiting for him, but he was not there. Instead he found Neville sitting in a chair, doing his homework.

“Hey Neville, have you seen Ron?” Harry asked.

“Er—yeah. He showed up not too long ago with a broomstick, which he took upstairs to the dorm. Then he left,” Neville told him.

“Left? Did he say where he was going?” Harry asked.

“No. He just left,” Neville replied.

Harry frowned. “Alright. Thanks.” He turned and decided, instead of searching for Ron, he’d let Ron come to him. He headed up to the dormitory, plopping down on his four poster and kicking off his shoes before grabbing his mother’s diary and reading again.

15 June, 1976

Today was an interesting day. I took my Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. today. I hope I did alright. Potter, Black, and Remus seemed pretty confident about themselves. I could hear their boasting echoing off of the hallways.

Belinda, Zelda, Zelda’s Hufflepuff friend Nora, and I were by the lake when the fight happened. Potter and Black went after Snape. I tried to stop them—to defend Snape even—but Snape had the nerve to call me a Mudblood! What a greasy git! It’s no wonder that they call him ‘Snivellus.’ And then, Potter tried to get me to go out with him—again! You’d think he’d get it through that thick skull of his that I don’t like him! What an insufferable prat!

I need to study. If Potter comes near me anymore today, I’ll hex him.

Lily

Harry stared at the entry. It was the day that he had seen in Snape’s Pensieve a year ago. Now he knew his mother’s point of view on that day. She had skipped a lot of details, but it still relayed the anger she exhibited that day. He sighed and turned the page.

16 June, 1976

So Potter came up to me this morning before breakfast and asked me if he could talk to me alone. This was really early in the morning…his friends weren’t even up yet. I was so mad at him though, that I said no. He sat down anyway. Then he apologized about yesterday. He said that while Snape deserved everything he got, he shouldn’t have tried to use Snape to get me to go out with him. He called himself immature. Honestly, this is a side of James Potter that I have never seen before. But really, it’s not me who he should be apologizing to, is it? Snape was humiliated. I may not like him very much, but no one deserves that.

The Transfiguration O.W.L. was today. I think I did well, but Potter and Black certainly scored the most points during the practical portion of the test. It was quite the spectacle and the examiners loved it.

I am looking forward to the end of O.W.L. examinations. They have completely worn me out. There are still a few more to go. I will manage. I don’t know about Belinda though. She seems hysterical and she’s studying more than I am. We’ll pull through.

Lily

Harry closed the diary as he heard footsteps approaching. He stuffed the book back under his pillow as the door opened to reveal Ron. “Hey,” Harry greeted. “Where were you?”

“I took a walk. I had some things to think about. What did Professor McGonagall want?” Ron asked.

“She praised me about my marks improving this past term,” Harry told him.

Ron gave him a funny look. “That’s odd.”

“Yeah. So what did you have to think about?” Harry asked as Ron sat down on his bed.

Ron’s ears turned red. “I was just sort of thinking about your prophecy.” He frowned. “You don’t have much time left.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Harry grimaced.

“Sorry, but it’s got me thinking that, hell, any one of us could die in this war. We both could die tomorrow, Harry, and neither of us will have had all of the experiences that adults do.”

“That’s certainly true,” Harry agreed. “Were you thinking about any particular adult experiences?” he added with a grin.

Ron’s face flushed. “Surprisingly, I wasn’t thinking about that. Actually, I was thinking more about—and don’t laugh at me, Harry—I was thinking about love.”

Harry didn’t laugh. “You’re afraid you’ll die without ever experiencing love?”

“Real love. So—erm—I was thinking that—er—perhaps I should finally…that I should finally tell this girl that I—erm—fancy her.” His face was beet red.

Harry grinned. “You should. You would be a braver man than I am. After all, Cho had to approach me.”

“Really? You think I should?”

“Absolutely. Who’s this girl anyway? Do I know her?” he asked.

“Er—well...yeah.”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Er—it’s…it’s…it’s…” His face was getting, if possible, redder.

“It’s who?” Harry demanded.

“Hermione!” Ron shouted quickly.

Harry felt the color drain out of his cheeks and his anger ignite like a bonfire. A deep black hole of jealousy entered his heart.

Ron was looking at him anxiously. “What? What is it?”

Harry tried to look calm as he worked on stamping out his anger. The black hole remained, but he was pleased that his voice was calm and steady when he murmured, “Nothing. It’s just that I’m a little surprised.” In actuality, part of him had known about Ron’s feelings for her for a long time. He gave Ron a hard look. “Are you positive you fancy her?”

Ron’s eyes widened and he gave Harry a defensive look. “What do you mean, ‘are you positive?’ Of course I’m positive!”

What was he going to do? How could two best friends fall for the same girl? How was he going to deal with this? He didn’t see how Ron or Hermione could ever possibly fancy each other. They bickered far too much. Granted, in all of those shows Aunt Petunia watched during the day, the bickering meant an underlying tension, and not one that ended up with the two slapping each other. Instead they usually wound up…

Harry barely was able to control his grimace. He did not want to think about Ron, Hermione, and that.

But what if Ron somehow got it into his head that bickering with a girl all the time meant that he felt something for her? What if he was just living under a delusion?

Ron was tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for an answer. Harry cleared his throat. “I didn’t want you to take that the wrong way, Ron. I certainly didn’t mean it that way. I’m just trying to look out for what’s best for both you and Hermione.”

“What’s best? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry frowned. “You two are my best friends. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“Get hurt?” Suddenly Ron’s eyes sparkled. “Did Hermione say something to you? Does she fancy me as well?”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I don’t know how Hermione feels about you,” Harry replied. “What I meant was, let’s think things through before you go rushing off and proclaiming to Hermione that you fancy her. She may not feel the same.”

Ron sighed. “It’s definitely a risk.”

“Hermione could fancy someone else. She doesn’t exactly tell us about who she has feelings for.”

“Krum,” Ron muttered darkly.

“She never told us she felt anything for him,” Harry reminded him. “As it is, I think she’s really mad at him because of the letter she got after her birthday and then the magazine article.”

“Yeah. What a git.”

“As it is, if you truly desire to…become her boyfriend,” Harry said, controlling his cringe, “I have to know a few things first.”

Ron looked up. “Overprotective, aren’t you, Harry? Okay, what do you want to know?”

“First, is there anyone else out there who you may have the remotest feelings for?” Harry asked.

Ron sat up straighter and Harry noticed his eyes wander slightly down to the floor. His face began to turn red. “Well…”

Hope restored itself slightly as Harry leaned forward anxiously. “Who?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Ron muttered.

“Try me,” Harry replied.

His face flushed even more. “It sounds unbelievable even to me,” Ron said with a sigh of defeat. “Luna Lovegood.”

Harry jerked back in surprise. “Really?”

“I don’t know how!” Ron said suddenly, as if he needed to explain himself. “But after the dementor attack in Hogsmeade, we had to spend all of that time in the hospital. After you, Hermione, and Ginny left, she was the only person I had to talk to. I really didn’t want to, but she just kept chatting and I wanted her to shut up, but instead I found myself chatting along with her. And she listened to me so well—better than you and Hermione, even. I felt she truly was interested in everything I had to say—everything! Even the stupid things. I mean, I know she listened to me because look at what she gave me on my birthday! She gave me one of the rarest chocolate frog cards around! She’s crazy to have given that away, but—”

“She fancies you, Ron, and you know it,” Harry reminded him.

He blushed again. “Yeah.”

“And how do you feel about her?”

Ron frowned. “I’m rather confused about it all. She’s weird, Harry, and yet I enjoyed talking to her. She’s carefree. She doesn’t care what people think about her at all. She talks about some insane stuff. But she sat there in that bed and listened to me while I rambled on and on about everything I’m interested in. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone listen to me so intently before. I really, really liked it. And really, she’s not all that bad.”

Harry sighed. “Quite frankly, Ron, I wouldn’t want you attempting to go out with Hermione until you’ve gotten your feelings for Luna sorted out. Besides, if you really want to go out with Hermione, I would suggest trying not to bicker with her so much.”

Ron actually laughed. “I don’t try to bicker with her. It just happens, Harry. I bicker with Hermione as much as I bicker with Ginny, and I don’t try to bicker with her either!”

Suddenly, Harry went very still as realization dawned on him. “You bicker with Hermione as if she were your own sister.”

Ron’s lip curled. “I highly doubt that.”

“No,” Harry insisted. “You do! You two sound like bickering siblings.”

Ron looked rather disgusted. “Impossible!”

“Ron, the second thing I have to ask you is to really think about your feelings for Hermione,” Harry said desperately. “To protect both you and her, I want to know exactly how you feel about her.”

“I care about her,” Ron said. “I really do. I care about her welfare. I don’t want anyone to hurt her. I definitely don’t want some boy to hurt her,” he added with a scowl, “like that Krum.”

That sounded a lot like being overprotective to Harry. Like the way Ron was about Ginny when it concerned her getting a boyfriend or getting into danger.

“How does Hermione make you feel?” Harry asked instead, his voice very quiet.

“She annoys me most of the time. Always babbling on about how we should do our homework and being completely bossy. Then she’s always spouting off knowledge and telling me that I’m wrong. And she doesn’t really like Quidditch! But still,” he said, shrugging slightly, “she’s my friend. She’s helped me out over the years and I’m grateful for her. I am willing to do anything to help her.” He looked up at Harry, finished.

Harry weighed his friend’s words carefully. “Ron, I used to fancy Cho and I must tell you, everything you just said then sounded nothing like what I felt for Cho. As it is, you sound extremely overprotective of Hermione, just like you are with Ginny. You hate Krum. Well, you didn’t exactly like Michael Corner, and you weren’t so keen on Dean while he and Ginny were dating, and now you don’t like Justin. When did you start thinking that you might fancy Hermione?”

“Well, it sort of started a bit in second year, when she got petrified. Then it went away. But then I really felt it in fourth year.”

“Why?”

Ron blinked. “I dunno. I think I realized it when I found out she was going to the Yule Ball with someone else. I couldn’t believe it. I got jealous, I will admit. She should have gone with one of us.”

“So there wasn’t any chance that she could get hurt by being suddenly rejected,” Harry said.

“Precisely!” Then Ron paled. “Merlin, that does sound like how I act towards Ginny.” He looked at Harry in horror. “Have I really been confusing these sibling-like feelings for something more?”

Harry wanted to grin, but instead he frowned. “It certainly sounds like it. Ron, I don’t think you really fancy Hermione.”

Ron looked quite sad. “I think you may be right,” he conceded. “I treat Hermione like I treat my little sister.”

“But the good news is,” Harry said with a small grin, “you still have a chance to experience what it’s like to be with another person.” Hearing Ron admit that Hermione was more like a sister to him made Harry want to cheer. The black hole in his heart had been filled and he felt happy again.

“How so?” Ron asked.

“You said you have an interest in Luna, didn’t you? Ask her out,” Harry suggested.

Ron’s jaw dropped. “Are you mad? Ask Luna out on a date?”

“Why not? You pretty much just said that she makes you feel really special. Why not try it? Why not give it a go? I’m positive she’ll say yes.”

Ron looked highly uncomfortable, but then, as the idea sunk into his head, he looked more and more thoughtful. “I could do it, just once. I owe her a picnic as it is since she gave me that chocolate frog card.”

“There you go,” Harry said, grinning.

“Alright,” Ron murmured, “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Harry said.

“D’you know what, Harry?”

“What?”

“It feels weird to finally understand exactly how I feel about Hermione.”

Harry chuckled.

“D’you know what else?”

“What?”

“I’m hungry. Let’s go down to dinner.”

“Okay,” Harry said as he examined his best friend. Had Ron truly fancied Hermione, Harry knew that he would have had to completely put a lid on his developing feelings for her and bury them. He would have done that so his two friends could be happy together. They would have lived happily, while Harry would have lived in misery, because Harry knew that there was no way that he could have stopped himself from feeling the need to be near her or to stop himself from relying on her strength and compassion. He was lost without her, and he knew it. He wondered why he hadn’t realized the truth before. It was so simple. Harry needed Hermione, badly.