Harry Potter and the Demons Within

Chapter 1- Are You Home?

There had never been a seemingly longer, more boring 6 weeks of summer by Harry’s standards. The sun rose early in the day to the sound of birds chirping and seemed to hang, frozen in place, radiating sweltering heat down on the world below it until late in the evening. A bead of sweat rolled down from jet black bangs, leaving a streak across a dusty, flushed cheek as Harry lazily pushed off the hard dirt ground for what must have been the thousandth time that day. Harry often found refuge from the pestering Dursleys on this old swing-set in the park off Magnolia road, where he sat in frustrated silence attempting to come to a conclusion as to what was happening in the world he was cut off from. All he could think about was gaining revenge over his godfather’s horrific death; forcing the one who had caused him to relive Sirius’ death every night, jolting upright just as Sirius fell through the demonic veil and feeling the heavy weight of agony settle on his chest, as he lay sweating and shaking within his twisted covers, feel the same terrible pain that he suffered through every day. Voldemort was still at large and Harry was sure that the newly captured Death Eaters he and his D.A. friends helped captured last year were bound to escape Azkaban any day now, if they hadn’t already.

“Don’t think of that,” he silently told himself, as he often found himself doing. “Besides, I’ve got another visit with Mrs. Figg later this evening.”

Harry practically lived for his meetings with his batty old cat-loving neighbor, Mrs. Figg, who shared limited news with him regarding the Order’s movements in fighting Voldemort. He had even grown accustomed to the odd smell of cabbages mixed with the potent smell of her many cats. Unfortunately, these meetings were only held once a week for that was the only time both Harry and Mrs. Figg could meet in private secrecy. The Dursleys still wanted Harry to have strictly limited contact with anything pertaining to the wizarding world and magic, and Mrs. Figg had only just managed to persuade the Dursleys to allow Harry to visit with her in her home every Friday evening. Mrs. Figg had claimed that she needed Harry’s help with her housekeeping, as she was aging “oh too rapidly”.

A few minutes passed with Harry lost in thought, mainly of Sirius and how he had ever managed to live this long without him, until a boy walked past, waving at him.

“Hi, Harry! I’d like to stop and chat but my mum’s expecting me home. I’ll see you around though!”

“Alright, see you Mark,” Harry said back as the boy continued. He had always felt a bit sorry for the boy, relating to him since Dudley beat him up, but also took a liking to him as at the same time he stood up to Dudley. Over the summer they became friends a bit; every once in a while Mark would stop by the park and talk for a while.

Another few minutes passed as the sun began to set. Glancing up from the ground, across the fence to the houses across the street, Harry caught a quick flicker of movement in some bushes, and immediately tensed up as he automatically jabbed a hand into his pocket to grab his wand. Naturally, he was very relieved and released his caught breath as he saw a cat climb out of the tangle of branches. The cat strolled across the pavement, weaving under the lowest fence post and trotted up to where Harry sat, watching the cat journey towards him.

A slight grin spread across his face as Harry welcomed the cat.

“Hello, Tibbles. What are you doing so far from Figgy’s?”

The brown cat just turned his blue eyes up to meet Harry’s green ones and meowed. Harry had the impression that the cat could understand him as much as Crookshanks could, and it unnerved him slightly.

Shaking off the feeling, Harry stretched out a long, toned arm to pet the cat behind its ear, while the cat smiled and pushed back against his hand in obvious pleasure.

After a few strokes through the brown fur Harry pulled his hand away and heaved a great sigh.

“Let’s get you home. Mrs. Figg will be worried.”

Tibbles meowed again in concurrence and turned, trotting off towards the park fence. Harry stood from his spot on the swing and followed, leaving the swing swaying slightly behind him. After vaulting the fence Harry turned and trudged down the street with his hands deep in his jean pockets, lost in thought. He couldn’t help but get the ominous feeling that tonight he would receive the news that he had been dreading, that the Death Eaters had indeed escaped. He now understood why he had to stay at the Dursley’s every summer, but that didn’t mean he accepted his forced imprisonment in the muggle world any more optimistically. Once again, Ron and Hermione and all of his friends in the Order were out there, fighting Voldemort, while he was stuck here, and Harry hated it. He hated not being able to do anything, when he was the only one who really could…. he was the one to kill Voldemort…. And the fact that Ron and Hermione were spending even more time together without him didn’t exactly please him much either; he wanted to be with them, to hear Ron joke, to turn to see Hermione smiling at him……

Harry started as Tibbles wound himself around his legs, and he looked up to see that they had reached Mrs. Figg’s house. Upon opening the front door, he was greeted with a strong smell of cabbages, as always. Dust was collected on every surface and Harry thought that perhaps he really could help out around the house as Mrs. Figg claimed he was doing. Tibbles walked past Harry and jumped up on a couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air, as Harry stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Hello,” he timidly yelled, “Mrs. Figg, it’s me. Are you here?”

Nothing but his own echoing voice returned an answer so he shrugged and sat down in the living room near Tibbles, creating a cloud of dust so thick that he coughed and had to wipe off his glasses to see. He hoped that she would get here soon; he was anxious for the news update and her absence made him uneasy; she was usually home at 5:00 on Fridays in order to greet Harry. Looking at the table next to him, Harry spotted the photos of all the cats that Mrs. Figg owned: Snowy, Mr. Paws, Tufty, and Mr. Tibbles; he could recall a story about every one of them easily after all the times Mrs. Figg forced him to look at them. Even during their meetings over the summer she had made him look at each of them in turn at least once; Harry determined that he would be quite happy to never lay eyes on one of their pictures ever again.

Just as he was examining the picture of Tufty, a loud CRACK sounded out through the house and the sound of breaking china came soon after. Harry was standing with his wand out before he knew it, staring wide-eyed towards the upstairs landing he could just see from his position in the living room (the front foyer opened up to the living room on one side and the staircase leading upstairs began in it, leading up to the landing towards the foyer ceiling and back wall). Mr. Tibbles bounded off the couch in an instant and ran upstairs, and Harry tried desperately to make him return.

“Tibbles get back here!” he whispered frantically. He wasn’t sure what was lurking upstairs but he was pretty sure that whatever it was would quite easily destroy the cat. “Shoot,” he quietly cursed, and creped over to the staircase, taking a deep breath. He had just placed his foot on the first step when he heard voices coming from upstairs, and it was quite obvious that they were making no attempt to keep quiet.

“Damn vase!” someone swore upstairs. “I thought we had a clear place to land.”

“Yeah, so did I,” a second voice responded, “Of course this house is so cluttered it’s no wonder that we landed on something. Now, come on, we’d better hurry up and find him.”

The sound of pounding feet told Harry they were on the move and as soon as one of them was in view he instinctively yelled, “STUPEFY!” as a jet of fiery red light shot out from his wand and hit the man, causing him to keel over. But before Harry could shout out anything else, the second man barreled down the upstairs hall, out onto the landing and shouted, “ACCIO WAND!” and Harry’s wand was yanked out of his grasp and flew right up into the other man’s open hand. Panicking slightly, Harry was just thinking of what to do next when a familiar voice spoke to him.

“Geez Harry, kill us why don’t you?” said Lupin as he stepped out of the shadows of the upstairs corroder and into the light of the landing.

Chapter 2- Not Again

“Lupin?” Harry said weakly, as a wave of relief washed over him. His heart was beating madly from the excitement and a smile was slowly spreading over his face as he looked up into the age-worn face of his dad’s friend- his friend. “What are you doing here?”

Lupin beamed back at Harry before answering, “We just came to retrieve you. Dumbledore thought that you might have had enough of the Dursley’s to last you this year, although I reckon you’ve had enough to last you your whole life. Well, I’m glad to see that you’re on your guard, although it really wasn’t necessary to knock Arthur out.”

“That was Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, his face flushing. “I-I-I didn’t know—I mean- I never meant to—“

“It’s alright Harry,” Lupin said. “As I said, at least you’re on your guard. It could have been worse. Mind you, we didn’t mean to land upstairs like that. I suppose that it gave you quite a nervous fright to hear us landing up there.”

“Yeah, it did a bit,” Harry admitted.

“Well, I’m just going to get Arthur up here and then we’ll accompany you to get your things,” replied Lupin. Harry was grateful of the change of subject. “Ennervate!” said Lupin as he helped Mr. Weasley up off the ground.

“Sorry about that Mr. Weasley,” Harry said as soon as he was standing again. “I couldn’t recognize you in the dark.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright Harry, don’t worry about it. Though I must say, you seem to have mastered that spell,” said Mr. Weasley as he smiled kindly down at Harry.

A few minutes later they were walking up to the Dursley’s house, at which point Harry hesitated.

“They won’t be happy to see you,” Harry explained. “Perhaps you should just stay out here. I’ll be right back down.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright Harry,” Lupin replied. “They won’t do anything- not for lack of trying. Uh, Arthur, why don’t you stay out here?” he added as an afterthought. With a quick glance between Mr. Weasley and Lupin that Harry just managed to catch Mr. Weasley nodded and Lupin and Harry continued up the path to the front door. Harry took a deep breath as he imagined what would happen when the Dursley’s saw Lupin with him, smiled to himself, and led Lupin through the door.

Shutting the door behind them, Harry turned and walked down the hall to the kitchen where the Dursleys were sitting, watching the television and eating.

As he entered the kitchen his very large, temperamental uncle greeted him with a harsh, “There you are, boy. Decided to take your time coming back to the house tonight, did you? Well, unfortunately for you you’ve just missed dinner. Where were you anyway? Vandalizing the street signs or some rubbish, I suppose?”

Harry, who was quite used to his uncle’s accusations, calmly replied, “No, I was at Mrs. Figgs’. It’s Friday.” And then he added quickly, so that it all came out as one mumbled word, “OhandI’mleaving.”

“What was that you said?” Uncle Vernon asked as he turned his beady eyes towards Harry. “Speak up boy.”

Remembering that Lupin was standing right out in the hallway behind him, Harry repeated more confidently, “I’m leaving.”

At these words Dudley, who had been poking at his salad while eyeing his father’s pudding, looked up at Harry in interest. Aunt Petunia also decided to look up from the show she was watching to look at Harry, a quizzical look on her face.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” she asked.

But before Harry could reply, he heard a voice from behind him answer, “He means, he is leaving. His stay is up.”

Lupin stepped into the kitchen and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” Uncle Vernon demanded. He was clearly quite upset that a strange man was standing in his kitchen.

“My name is Remus Lupin, and I’m a friend of Harry’s who is here to bring him back to the wizarding world. Of course, you don’t mind, do you?”

At these words Aunt Petunia piped up, “But the time is not yet right.”

Harry looked at her, puzzled by this unexpected statement. Surely she didn’t know… the prophecy… how could she?

“Dumbledore has agreed that now is a good time,” said Lupin calmly, as if his wizard-hating Aunt’s response was nothing out-of-the-ordinary.

Uncle Vernon, always hating being kept out of the loop angrily shouted, “What is going on here? Who are you to just come in and take him, eh? And who is this Dumleebore person?”

Surprising Harry even more, Aunt Petunia spoke up again. “Let him go.”

Harry goggled at his aunt. What was she doing standing up for him? Then, just as he thought he saw a bit of his mother in her sister, she continued. “It’s an excuse to get rid of him early after all.”

That was more like it. Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon saw her point and agreed fully, and that it was tormenting him that Harry got to do something he wanted at the same time.

“Oh alright,” he finally spat, “Go on and leave. It’s one less mouth to feed.”

Harry didn’t even stick around long enough to say thank you; he was down the hall and up the stairs into his room in a matter of seconds. Harry grabbed his books and clothes and shoved them in his trunk, before turning and letting Hedwig out of her cage.

“We’re out of here girl,” he told her as he stroked her back with his finger. “Just meet us at the Order Headquarters, alright?”

She hooted softly to show her compliance and took off through the open window with a flutter of wings. Harry watched her for a few seconds, flying away into the sunset. He wished he could do just that so many times, just fly away on his broom with his best friend by his side….

He snapped out of his dream and went to latch the window shut just when he caught sight of Mr. Weasley below. But what he saw made him do a double-take. Mr. Weasley wasn’t alone- there were three tall, dark, hooded figures hovering over him, and Mr. Weasley was on the ground cowering in their shadow. One of the Dementors bent down over him as it lowered its hood with clammy, scabbed, rotting hands and went to administer the Kiss. Harry didn’t even have time to think- he whipped his wand out of his pocket and summoned up the image of Hermione and Ron waving and smiling at him and shouted into the still night, “Expecto Patronum!” pointing his wand at the Dementors as a silver stag erupted from the end and charged at the Dementors, knocking them back. The three figures glided off into the night, leaving Mr. Weasley whimpering on the ground behind them. Harry sprinted out of his room, bounding down the stairs and yelling to Lupin, who was now sitting in the living room, conversing quietly with Aunt Petunia. Harry only had a second to notice how odd this was before the thought was pushed aside by more pressing matters.

“Lupin!” he yelled, panting. “It’s Mr. Weasley! He’s been attacked- Dementors…”

Lupin looked up with alarm at Harry and quickly stood up, following Harry through the door into the front yard. Yet, someone else had reached him before they did; a tall, thin man with brown hair and blue eyes was kneeling next to Mr. Weasley, feeding him a piece of chocolate and helping him onto his feet.

Harry wondered who the man was and where he came from, but before he could ask Lupin swiftly spoke.

“Selbbit, did you see where they came from?”

The man helped support Mr. Weasley as he answered, “No, I did not. All I know is that I felt the chill, and I knew what that meant. Unfortunately, I didn’t get here in time to help Arthur. Fortunately, Harry here did.”

Lupin turned abruptly to Harry, asking, “Did you fight off the Dementors, Harry?”

Harry answered, “Yes, I did. I saw them through my window surrounding Mr. Weasley and so of course I reacted.”

Lupin heaved a deep sigh and ran his hands through his hair, which caught Harry completely off guard. Sure, he hadn’t been expecting a party or anything, but he thought that they would have at least been happy he had saved Mr. Weasley’s life.

Trying to voice his confusion, Harry asked, “What’s wrong? They were about to administer their Kiss, I had to do something!” his voice slowly rising.

Looking over at Mr. Weasley, Lupin said, “Perhaps we should get inside. Selbbit, you’re welcome to come in, of course. I’ll explain everything inside, Harry,” he added, sensing that Harry was about to start asking questions again, as Harry obediently snapped his jaw back up again. Selbbit nodded and helped Mr. Weasley in, followed closely by Lupin and Harry. After they sat down in the living room, Aunt Petunia came into the room, with a worried look covering her stark-white face. Lupin turned to her and said, “Send a message to Dumbledore. Inform him that three Dementors were present upon our arrival and that we will be arriving at headquarters soon by means of floo powder instead of flying.”

Harry stared, his jaw wide open as his aunt simply nodded and exited the room as if Lupin had simply asked her to shut the door behind her, not contact Dumbledore. Something weird was going on, he was sure of it.

Chapter 3- A Clash with the Ministry

Before he really had time to dwell on the mysteries surrounding his aunt, Harry was jerked back into the here-and-now as Lupin spoke again.

“As soon as he manages to connect this place to the floo network, we should be on our way. Selbbit, perhaps you should stay here and remain on the look-out for any more, well, suspicious behavior- you know what to look for.”

Selbbit just nodded, turned to Harry and inclined his head again, and strode out of the room and through the front door. Harry watched him go, wondering again who he was, and where he came from; he had appeared so suddenly.

He turned back away from the window, where he was watching as Selbbit turned and hurried down the street, toward Mrs. Figg’s house, and asked Lupin, “Who was that man? I’ve never seen him here before. And the way he appeared, so suddenly-“

“I’ll explain back at Headquarters. For now we should just focus on getting out of here.” At these words Lupin glanced anxiously out the window, before continuing, “Harry, why don’t you go and grab your things from upstairs? We should be leaving any moment now.”

Although Harry was quite anxious to learn about what was going on, he was even more anxious to leave the Dursley’s, and so he turned and hurried upstairs to his bedroom to grab his trunk and broom. Upon walking into his bedroom, Harry noticed the photo album that Hagrid had given him still lying out on his desk, just begging to be opened. Picking it up and plopping down on the bed, Harry opened the front cover and smiled at a picture of his mom and dad, frantically waving up at him. James Potter had his arm around Lily, her red hair draping over her shoulders while his jet-black locks stuck out untidily in the back. Harry gazed back at his mother’s bright green eyes, which seemed to perfectly reflect his own, and then turned to the next page, bringing new faces with it. Standing, surrounded by Lupin and James, was Sirius in his late Hogwarts days. All three were grinning at Harry and laughing, without a care in the world. He forced a sad smile onto his face as a powerful wave of grief swelled up inside him, threatening to burst out of him. As a single tear streamed down his face, he summoned his sturdy defenses which many years of painful practice had built up, and lowered the album cover, forcing himself to focus on something else. Harry tossed the album into his trunk, fastened the top down, and went back downstairs, dragging his things behind him.

Just as he reached the living room and set his trunk back down, a loud flutter of wings alerted him as an owl swooped towards him through the open window, and Harry instinctively raised his hand to snatch the envelope it was carrying. However, just as the tawny owl relinquished its grip on the letter and zoomed back out the window, Lupin’s hand shot out over Harry’s outstretched arms and deftly snatched the letter right from over him.

Lupin immediately tore at the envelope, retrieving the letter within and Harry just managed to catch the purple Ministry of Magic seal poking through the torn envelope before it was in shreds and Lupin hastily un-folded the letter that it had contained; Harry was pretty sure he knew what the letter said, and he was not at all eager to hear it.

“We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm…. Blah, blah, blah… ministry representatives…will be calling shortly….to destroy your wand,” Lupin mumbled aloud as he quickly skimmed the letter. As soon as Lupin said those first words, Harry’s worries were confirmed as he felt a terrible feeling arise in the pit of his stomach, and a wave of panic rise in his throat. It was just like last year when Harry had performed the Patronus Charm to save himself and Dudley from two Dementors in an alley-way; when that happened the ministry sent him a letter informing him that he had broken wizarding law by performing magic underage during the summer in the muggle world. Luckily for him, that time Dumbledore had managed to call off the ministry from destroying his wand, and eventually had Harry relieved of all responsibility for the action in a trial later on. Unfortunately, Harry doubted that he was going to get off this time; by now the ministry officials would be on their way to confiscate his wand. He had completely forgotten the consequences of these particular actions, until now.

“…disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 10 a.m. on Monday, July 11,” Lupin finished.

Mr. Weasley looked at Lupin from the chair he was recuperating in and quickly asked, “How much longer do you reckon we have?”

Lupin pocketed the letter as he replied, “I’d give it two minutes, at the most. The ministry officials are usually pretty quick to arrive.”

Harry tensely watched as Lupin paced the length of the room several times, mumbling to himself, before finally finding his voice.

“They can’t destroy my wand. We’ve got to do something! Not just stand here like cows waiting to be slaughtered!” Harry shouted.

Mr. Weasley rapidly retorted, “I know, Harry. Don’t worry- we won’t let them do anything to your wand.”

This had the desired effect as Harry relaxed a little, reminding himself that Lupin and Mr. Weasley were here to assist him if he had to put up a struggle.

Lupin finally stopped pacing the room as he regained his head, offering up the plan he had apparently just conceived. “Harry, you need to hide somewhere, and quickly. Arthur and I will stand ready for the officials to arrive; there should only be two of them for this type of job, and I’m sure we can handle them. As soon as possible I’ll yell the o.k. for you to come out of hiding. Until then, AVOID THE MINISTRY MEMBERS!”

Harry nodded in understanding as he sprinted up the hall and into the cupboard under the stairs that he had stayed in not too many years ago. Harry slammed the tiny door behind him as he crunched up into an awkward ball; he had apparently long outgrown the cramped space. Bending an arm out behind him to attempt to reach the light-switch, he thought better of it and pulled his arm back into his body, brushing some spider-webs along the way. He briefly thought of what Ron’s expression would be if he was trapped in here with the spiders when a pair of footsteps hurried past him, and he clutched his wand in front of him in case he needed it to defend himself. There was a quick conversation between what he assumed were the Dursleys and Lupin, based on his uncle’s muffled shouts and Lupin’s equally muted warnings; the vibrating of heavy footsteps on the floor and the slamming of the back door told Harry that Lupin had the Dursleys exit the house for a bit, which would explain why Uncle Vernon was shouting; knowing him he would be very insulted at a strange “weirdo” telling him what to do in his own house. A few short seconds later Lupin ran back past his hiding spot and continued back into the living room to await their “guests” with Mr. Weasley.

Harry held his breath as he waited for a sign of the officials’ arrival. After a few seconds, his wait ended as several loud CRACKS sounded through the air in short succession. He took a deep gulp as he realized that there were more officials than Lupin thought there would be, and a wave of apprehension rose in him. As soon as the ministry officials appeared just inside the front door, Harry heard a roar and several booming bangs sound as the battle for his wand began.

Glass was shattering and walls and furniture had holes blasted through them as the ministry members defended against Lupin and Mr. Weasley’s attacks. After a quick fracas Harry’s breath caught as he heard Mr. Weasley groan and collapse to the ground, as spells continued to be shouted by Lupin and two other men.

Deciding to take a chance at a swift glance out of the cupboard, Harry creaked open the door a few inches, peering out it down the hall. He could just make out two men, hiding behind an over-turned bookcase, rapidly aiming spells towards the living room. They were bound to overtake Lupin at any moment- he had to do something. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Harry decided to go for it.

In one quick movement, he shoved open the cupboard door, thrust his arm out and bellowed, “Petrificus Totalus!”

A jet of blue light shot out of his wand and smashed into one of the ministry men, whose arms snapped to his side as he fell over, completely stiff and frozen. At the sound of Harry’s voice, the other man had whipped his head around to see Harry scrambling to close himself back into the cupboard again. Harry saw the man raise his wand, opening his mouth, and he knew he was too late, that it was all over- after all of these years, fighting Voldemort, he was going to be sent to Azkaban and have his wand destroyed. He squinted his eyes, preparing for the impact, just a voice rang through the air and a dull thud shook the ground as someone collapsed. Harry immediately reopened his eyes, looking up the hall to see Lupin stepping out over the ministry officials’ still form.

Chapter 4- Floo Fiasco

“You alright, Harry?” Lupin asked, walking toward him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry said, standing up and straightening his glasses.

“Good,” Lupin replied, “Now we had best get out of here before the Accidental Magical Reversal officials show up. If only Dumbledore could get us hooked up to the floo-“

Before Lupin could finish his sentence, a small brown owl darted through the window and came careening straight at Lupin. Lupin caught Pig in his hand and immediately ripped open the letter that he was carrying, skimming the note quickly.

Looking up from the letter to Harry, Lupin said, “The fireplace has been connected to the floo network. We have to hurry, though. It will be disconnected again in about a minute.”

They both turned and ran back up the hall, jumping over the motionless ministry member’s bodies and skidding around the corner. Harry just had a couple seconds to take in the damage that had been wrought on the Dursley’s living room; all of the furniture was overturned, feathers from pillows were all over the floor, and a cabinet containing some collectable figurines lay smashed on the ground. It was complete chaos.

As Harry stood in shock at the mess before him, Lupin dashed over to where Mr. Weasley lay on the floor, behind a charred armchair, and quickly muttered a spell to revive him.

Lupin’s voice woke Harry from his stupor, as Mr. Weasley moved over to the fire, withdrawing a small cloth sack from within his cloak.

“Harry! Hurry up, grab your trunk!”

Harry shook his head as he registered what Lupin just said and then immediately remembered that they had to get out of there before the fireplace sealed itself off from them. Shoving his wand in his pocket, he grabbed the end of his trunk and dragged it across the room to the fireplace, while Lupin retrieved his broom and Hedwig’s cage and followed directly behind him.

“I’ll go first with your trunk,” Mr. Weasley offered. Harry handed the trunk over to Mr. Weasley as he stepped into the fire, pulling some powder out of the brown sack as he went.

“Grimmauld Place!” Mr. Weasley clearly shouted, throwing the powder down in front of him as he and Harry’s trunk disappeared in a flash of blinding green fire.

“You go next Harry,” Lupin said as soon as Mr. Weasley disappeared.

Harry nodded and grabbed his broom and owl cage as he ducked into the short fireplace, taking a handful of the floo powder from the sack Lupin held out for him. Harry raised his hand high above his head, gripping his broom tightly as he remembered to annunciate his words clearly, and shouted, “Grimmauld Place!”

Harry was spinning faster and faster, pulling the Firebolt and cage tighter into his side, as he watched a blur of fireplaces pass by him before abruptly stopping and stumbling out into a dark kitchen. Before he even had time to pick himself off the ground, he felt a pair of hands grab his arms and help him to his feet.

“Wotcher, Harry,” said the unmistakable voice of Tonks, but Harry barely even recognized what she was saying. He was too busy worrying about something else.

“I have to go back!” Harry shouted over the welcoming voices.

After a short moment of silence, Mr. Weasley said concernedly, “What for, Harry?”

Harry struggled to put to words what he had just witnessed. Right as he took off from the Dursley’s fireplace he saw one of the ministry members pick himself off the floor and raise his wand toward Lupin from behind. Before Harry could yell out in warning, he had been whisked away.

“I don’t have time to explain,” Harry gasped, “All I know is that Lupin needs my help.”

Before anyone could protest, Harry had twirled around and seized a handful of floo powder from a bowl above the fireplace, and stepped back into the fire.

“Harry, wait!”

“There isn’t enough time!”

But Harry ignored them. “Number 4, Privet Drive!” he yelled, and in a flash he was spinning again, wand held firmly up against his chest, ready to aid Lupin.

Harry’s feet hit the floor of the Dursley’s fireplace with a loud thump, and he struggled to remain standing from the fast impact. Looking out at the living room, Harry just saw a man, bending over Lupin’s still form, turning to face the noise his arrival had caused, and anger surged through him as he raised his wand and roared, “STUPEFY!”

Lupin’s attacker was knocked back by the force of the spell and flew across the room where he smashed into a wall and sank to the ground, unconscious.

Harry had no time to feel guilty for the force of his spell; he sprinted out of the fireplace and had Lupin’s limp form draped over his shoulders four seconds later. He dashed back towards the fireside, adrenaline giving him unnatural strength as he snatched some floo powder from the sack that was lying open on the floor, and hurtled himself and Lupin back into the fireplace.

“Grimmauld Place!” he croaked, just in time as the fireplace began to reseal itself and he and Lupin spun around and around, falling out into the Order’s Headquarters’ kitchen once again, in quite a feeble manner.

A/N: Hey, I just wanted to take this time to thank everyone who has taken the time to read/review my story so far! Your input and interest mean more to me than you could ever know. I know reviews can be a rightful pain, but I wanted whoever is reading this to know that I really, really, really love reviews. Please take the time to review at the end of each chapter, even if you hated it! Also, I’m warning you that the next couple of chapters are more fluff than the first ones, simply because they just have dialogue. This one, in particular, doesn’t really have any point, but that’s why I posted Chapter 6 along with it. I hope you understand. Thanks, and happy reading,

-Casey

Chapter 5- The Kitchen of Grimmauld Place

Harry lay sprawled on the floor, momentarily trapped under Lupin’s unconscious form. His glasses had been knocked off when he and Lupin tumbled out of the fire, and he could barely make out a few blurry figures in front of him, as his hands traveled blindly around the floor in search of his glasses. Just as his left hand traveled along the gritty stone floor in front of him, coming across a round rim belonging to his glasses and snatching them up off the ground, two pairs of arms wrapped around him as Tonks and Mrs. Weasley hoisted him to his feet.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, returning his glasses to their rightful place on his face, only to find that the lenses were both shattered.

Before he could take them off to fix them, Mrs. Weasley hastened, “Oh, allow me, Harry, dear.”

He handed them over and she muttered, “Occulus Reparo,” before returning them to him, as good as new.

Looking around the room, Harry could see that he was in the basement kitchen, with its dark, dreary walls and dim lighting. In the center of the long room stood a large table, which easily seated 20 or more if needed. At the end where he was standing the massive fireplace rested against the back wall, blending in with the grey walls around it. On the opposite end of the kitchen there was the cooking area, with an old-fashioned stove and a big basin sink, with creaky cabinets hanging crooked above them, and a door to the side led into a large pantry filled with dusty bottles of Butterbeer and jugs of Firewhisky.

The countertops were covered with pots and pans and scraps of food, and a warm, delicious smell that wafted from the oven told Harry that Mrs. Weasley was fixing a meal. His mouth began to water as he realized how hungry he was; he had not eaten all day spare a piece of burnt toast in the morning that he grabbed before heading outside.

“We’ll be eating shortly, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, following his hungry eyes over to the cooking area. “But first, we should be checking on Remus.”

At these words all thoughts of hunger abandoned him, as Harry turned to see how Lupin was fairing. He was relieved to see that Tonks had managed to revive him, as Lupin sat propped on his elbows, smiling weakly.

“I’m fine, Molly,” Lupin said. “I just didn’t see anyone coming. Next thing I knew I heard a voice behind me, but before I could turn to see who it was, the spell hit me and, well… I don’t quite know what happened after that. How did I manage to end up here?”

“That was the work of Harry, here,” Mr. Weasley offered. “Before any of us could do anything, he had jumped back into the fire. He said he had to go back.”

“Gave us quite a fright, mind you,” said Mrs. Weasley. “You’re both lucky that the fire didn’t seal itself off from you before you returned.” She paused to give a scornful look to Harry. “What would have become of you if you were trapped back there, with the Ministry Accidental Squad arriving and finding you both?”

Harry looked down at his feet, as Mrs. Weasley continued to rant. He hadn’t even stopped to think about what would have happened had they not returned in time; it made him quite queasy to think of it now. He felt more and more embarrassed by his rash actions by the moment; he hated doing anything to upset Mrs. Weasley. She had taken him in as almost a surrogate son, offering him a place to stay every holiday, sending him gifts, even taking the time to come and watch him perform in the Triwizard Tournament in his 4^th year, when he had not believed anyone would show up to cheer him on. Over the years he had grown to love her and regard her almost as a mother-figure.

Luckily, after a few more ideas about what could have gone wrong, Mr. Weasley cut her off.

“Now, Molly. I know it was not necessarily the smartest thing to do, but Harry deserves our gratitude rather than our chaste,” he said, frowning at his wife. “He saved Remus as well as the Order from even larger disaster by returning for him. Can you imagine what would have happened if the Ministry had managed to contain Remus? Not only would he be in some Ministry cell right now, but I have no doubt in my mind that he would be forcefully divulging precious Order secrets to them, and we can not, under any circumstance, afford that!”

Harry could not remember a time that he had heard Mr. Weasley raise his voice before, and it scared him slightly to see him doing so now. Everyone in the room was silent as they looked in slight awe at him, and the silence was quite uncomfortable. Mr. Weasley was red in the face as he frowned at his wife, and Mrs. Weasley was rapidly becoming redder as well, her head now drooped in front of her.

“Of course you’re right,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I’m sorry, Harry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

She heaved a great sigh and began to shake slightly, tiny sobs escaping her as she began to cry. Harry felt even worse now than when she was yelling at him.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, stepping towards her and putting a hand on her heaving shoulder.

He jumped slightly as she sobbed louder and pulled him into a tight hug, and after a few tense seconds he relaxed slightly and hugged her back, wrapped in her motherly love. The Dursleys were not his real family- this was his real family.

Mrs. Weasley recomposed herself and turned to busy herself in her cooking again. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Lupin, looking down at him.

“Thanks, Harry,” he said, “I owe you one.”

“It was nothing,” Harry replied, content that Lupin was fine. Then he remembered all of his burning questions, and decided that now was a good time to ask.

“You said that you would explain everything once we got back here,” he started, looking at Lupin. “I have so many questions.”

Everyone fell silent at his words, and he looked around the kitchen as Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin all exchanged uncertain glances. He could tell that they were all hesitant to divulge any Order information to him, as he was not officially a member, being only 15. However, he was prepared for this. Over the weeks at the Dursley’s Harry had decided that he was not going to stand the adults keeping any more information from him this year. Since he arrived at Hogwarts, everyone seemed to know more about him than he did himself. Only a few months ago did Harry discover the secret that now weighed heavily on his shoulders and mind, but he decided that knowing the truth was worth bearing the burden. He had not told anyone about the prophecy, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted his friends to know yet. It wasn’t really worth them worrying over him, giving him strange, frightened glances, or treating him like he was some leper. However, he had decided that this year, he was old enough to know the truth about the world around him, and he was not going to just let anyone try to “protect” him by keeping it from him; after all, it did not protect him at all, it only hurt his chances of excelling and defeating Lord Voldemort even more.

Worried that they were going to avoid explaining things to him yet again, Harry said, “I have a right to know. I’m not just some baby who can’t deal with it. How am I ever going to accomplish anything if I don’t know the truth?”

At these words everyone slowly turned their heads in his direction, with looks of resigned recognition written all over their faces. Harry stood firm, face set, as he looked them all back in the eye determinably.

Lupin was the first one to speak. Languidly nodding his head in apparent submissive agreement, he raised his hands as if to say ‘I give up’ and said to Harry, “Alright, we’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But there are consequences for the knowledge of truth, and you may not like them.”

“I understand fully,” Harry said, not allowing himself to be tricked out of being told anything, “and I can pretty much assure you that I can handle it.”

Chapter 6- Explanations from the Order

A minute later Harry, Lupin, Tonks, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were all gathered at one end of the large dining table, steaming cups of tea set in front of them by Mrs. Weasley. Everyone held a serious demeanor, which pleased Harry as it was a sign that they were taking him seriously. He could tell that they were prepared to divulge quite a few classified secrets against regulation, and he could not help but smile discreetly to himself in the pleasure of the slight power he now held within the Order.

Restless to get started with his questioning, Harry quietly cleared his throat, indicating he was ready to begin.

Lupin, who had been staring straight ahead at nothing, lowered his cup of tea, saying, “I’m sorry, Harry. Well, what do you want explained?”

Harry felt a hundred questions fighting to burst out of him, and had to pause and consider which he should ask first. He had so many questions, but he knew he could not ask them all. What was happening with Voldemort? Had there been any more movements by him? What had everyone in the Order been doing all summer? Had Bellatrix been caught yet? And what about all of the events that took place this evening? Since arriving back at Grimmauld Place he had been struggling to put the pieces of the puzzle together, but everything escaped his understanding; he could not make much sense of anything that happened to him back at Privet Drive.

After a few moments of indecisiveness, Harry decided that questions about the most recent events would be a good place to start, and settled on asking, his mouth dry, “What were those Dementors doing at Little Whinging? I know that Umbridge sent them last time, but something tells me that it’s a bit worse this time.” Here he paused and took a deep breath as he looked around at the sullen faces around him, before saying what he had been expectantly fearing the entire summer, “The Dementors are under Voldemort’s control now, aren’t they?”

As soon as he said it, he knew the answer. He felt a weight drop in his stomach as he looked around the table at the brooding faces surrounding him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been expecting it; Dumbledore had warned that the Dementors would indeed turn to aid Voldemort at the end of his fourth year, but the denying Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, refused to take precautions against it.

In case he needed any more confirmation, Harry saw Mr. Weasley heave a sigh and answer, “Yes, it is as we have feared. I know that we all knew it would happen, but now that it has….” His voice trailed off as he looked down at the table.

“We believe the Death Eaters sent them after you,” Lupin added.

On Mr. Weasley’s left, Tonks spoke up, with a sharp, sarcastic tone, “Yeah, if only that pig Fudge had bigger brains than a toad, and wasn’t so bloody afraid of his own puny shadow, then maybe the situation would be a little bit better,” she fumed. With her short, spiky hair, currently a shade of bright red, Harry thought it looked as if her head was on fire. This look did not overly surprise him, since Tonks, who was a Metamorphmagus, often changed her dramatic appearance. “I’m just glad the blustering buffoon finally got the boot,” she continued, orange eyes flashing. “Even the other ministry officials could not ignore his slight oversight regarding Voldemort’s return, after they saw him with their own eyes. I just hope the new one fairs better, not that it should be hard to do better than Fudge. Mind you, the lad does have his work cut out for him, now that Fudge has gone and messed everything up,” she finished, arms folded in front of her chest as she glared straight in front of her.

Harry allowed himself a quick smile; he could not imagine anyone but Tonks raving on like that about the minister. But soon his attention was drawn away from Tonks, and onto Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. For some reason, at Tonks’s words Mrs. Weasley had begun to sniffle a bit again and Mr. Weasley had stood and walked around to the other side of the table to comfort his wife. What surprised him even more was Mr. Weasley’s expression; his usually cheery face was crinkled in a deep frown, with steely eyes staring at Tonks.

Tonks met Mr. Weasley’s glare and shot her hands up to her mouth as if she just realized something, and gasped, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to mention it. Please forgive me Mrs. Weasley,” she said whined, looking at her in horror at what she had done.

Harry turned his eyes and caught Lupin’s, silently questioning what made the Weasleys so upset. He had not seen them so upset since last year, when he first heard of their fight with…. Oh no.

Lupin leaned over towards Harry and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “Percy.”

Harry couldn’t believe it. Percy, Ron’s older, obsessively striving brother, was the new Minister of Magic. Sure, Percy was ambitious, but Harry could not picture him in such a powerful role; it made him shudder to think what would happen to the ministry. Of course, he should have seen it coming. Percy was the undersecretary to the Minister last year and loved rules and the ministry more than his own family, which he proved when he refused to speak to any of the Weasley’s last year, even when Mr. Weasley was in mortal danger, after they begged him not to take his job; the Weasleys hated Fudge for turning a blind eye to Voldemort’s return and they believed that the only reason that Fudge hired Percy was in order to obtain Order of the Phoenix information from him. Just the mention of Percy was enough to drive poor Mrs. Weasley to tears, and cause Mr. Weasley to go quiet for hours on end.

Harry shifted slightly in his chair, the awkwardness thick in the air. Tonks was completely exasperated and Lupin sat hunched over, hair draping in front of his face, his hand massaging one of his temples. Mrs. Weasley took out a handkerchief from her dress pocket and hastily dabbed at her eyes, flushing crimson as she realized everyone was waiting for her to recover. Mr. Weasley’s arm unwrapped itself from her shoulders and he sat back down, across from her.

“Right, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, as if nothing had happened, “What else would you like explained?”

Harry shot a quick glance at Lupin, who nodded once encouragingly, before carrying on. He determined that it would be best to avoid all Ministry of Magic discussion, so he veered off to a different topic.

“So, if the Dementors are out of Ministry control-“ a sharp intake of breath from Mrs. Weasley as Lupin kicked him swiftly in the shin, under the table, caused him to correct himself-“I mean are in the league with Voldemort now,” Harry continued, shin throbbing, “Then what’s happening at Azkaban? How is it going to remain secure?”

He was fully aware that Azkaban must have been in complete disarray without the Dementors. What Harry really wanted to know was what was going on with the Death Eaters that were being held there, but he decided to dance around the touchy topic rather than be blunt; he couldn’t quite bring himself to speak the question that his intuition had told him would be answered earlier that evening.

Mr. Weasley began, “Of course, Azkaban is suffering from the loss, for now, but security trolls have now been placed on patrol, and they are constantly monitored and controlled by Ministry- oh come now, Molly- by Ministry members-“

Lupin interrupted, reading Harry’s mind, “The Death Eaters we recently captured are, naturally, on the loose,” he groaned.

Harry, apart from being worried, found himself quite angry. His apprehensions were confirmed, and in a way that relieved his worries momentarily. However, he knew that Death Eaters left unaccounted for was a bad thing, and he could not help but be frustrated with the Ministry’s, and Fudge’s, defiance in taking the precautions that could have prevented it. Right then, he swore to himself that if he ever met Fudge again, he would not let him walk away without receiving a piece of his mind, and perhaps fist; however, that was probably wishful thinking; Fudge would be long-gone in some foreign country for the rest of his days, deep in hiding.

More than anything though, Harry was apprehensive about what would happen now that Voldemort’s most dear supporters were loose again. Would it be as it was when Voldemort was in power all those years ago, with muggle and half-blood wizard attacks alike? He could not even bring himself to imagine what would happen with the muggle world being blended with the magic. He thought briefly of how the Dursley’s would react, Dudley screaming with his hands over his rear, his Uncle attempting to make his large form seem rather small and unimportant, and his Aunt….The thought of his Aunt brought Harry to his next question.

Harry was so anxious to hear the answer he tripped over his own tongue. “My Aunt- how did-know- wizards-she-Dumbledore-contact-calm-behavior-odd,” he garbled.

“Come again?” Tonks asked.

“How did my Aunt know how to contact Dumbledore?” Harry repeated. “She normally hates wizards, but she was so calm this evening. It was odd; it was almost as if she knew more then she let on.”

Silence hung heavy in the air for one moment, before Mr. Weasley choked on his tea and dropped his mug in front of him, splattering hot liquid all over the table and floor in front of him as well as on his shirt.

Mrs. Weasley sprang up immediately afterward, saying, “I’ll take care of it!” before shuffling over to the cooking area, busying herself in attempting to find a rag, even though a dish towel hung over the sink faucet.

Shortly after her, Tonks also rose to her feet, offering to help Mrs. Weasley. “I think there’s a towel we could use in one of the main floor bathrooms, Molly,” she practically sang, before making a quick dash out the kitchen door, Mrs. Weasley trailing closely behind her.

“Right, um…” Mr. Weasley started, wiping up the tea on the table with a ratty shirt sleeve, “About your Aunt, Harry.”

Now sitting perched on the edge of his chair, Harry looked expectantly at Mr. Weasley. Apparently he had hit on something big, and he wanted to know what it was.

“Well,” Mr. Weasley continued, giving up on the tea puddle and putting his hands on his soaked lap, as he rocked in his chair, “This might come as a shock to you, Harry, but your Aunt, she…she’s a Squib.”

Chapter 7- Concealed Identities

Harry’s eyes shot wide open, as he felt his jaw lower slightly in awe. He studied Mr. Weasley and Lupin’s faces, both looking at him with serious but uneasy expressions, as if they were worried he would burst out laughing at any moment, which he almost did. After all, his Aunt, she couldn’t be- it wasn’t possible- she just simply could not be a Squib. After all, she treated Harry almost as miserably as Uncle Vernon, with his wizarding blood as the only excuse. Not to mention before he was even born; Aunt Petunia hated his mother just as much as she hated him; she regarded his mum as a “freak”.

Harry struggled to explain this. “No, she isn’t,” he stammered, stupidly, suddenly desperate to be understood, “I mean, she hates wizards, she’s just a muggle.”

Mr. Weasley bowed his head, looking down at the table and avoiding Harry’s wild eyes, so Harry turned instead to Lupin, longing for support in his belief.

“Lupin, I am right, aren’t I?” Harry said weakly, staring at Lupin and willing him to agree.

Lupin looked pityingly at Harry and said, softly, “I’m sorry, Harry. But Arthur’s telling you the truth.”

Harry refused to believe it. He felt slightly dizzy as he tried to think straight. “But she hates me; she hated my mum,” he said, voice cracking slightly as his head continued to swim.

“Think about it Harry,” Lupin said, consolingly, “Of course she would treat you with disdain; it isn’t exactly great and enjoyable to be born into a wizarding family, but to be denied learning magic.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, like a fish out of water, as he took in what Lupin was saying. It did make sense, he supposed. After all, he could not imagine watching Dudley go off to Hogwarts while he was stuck behind, to hear him rave about everything he was learning to his parents while Harry sat back in a jealous corner.

Suddenly, as he recalled his Aunt’s reactions, the pieces of the puzzle slid into place in Harry’s mind.

“That’s how she knew where Dumbledore was, and why I needed to stay there over summer,” Harry said slowly, the fog in his head lifting.

Lupin and Mr. Weasley just nodded leisurely in return, apparently relieved that Harry believed them.

Harry leaned back in his chair, mouth still agape as he grew accustomed to the truth.

“So then, she understands the risks of keeping me?” Harry asked to no one in particular.

No one returned an answer, but Harry knew she understood already, and he suddenly felt a bit warmer towards her. Eventually his head began to ache, and he longed to see Ron and Hermione, so he could discuss everything with them; they would know what to say. However, first he had a few more questions.

“Who was that Sellbit man?” Harry suddenly asked, changing the topic. “And how did he arrive so quickly?”

Harry could tell that both Lupin and Mr. Weasley were slightly taken aback by his abrupt change of topic, and he watched as their expressions both lightened dramatically, before Lupin said eagerly, “Well, Sellbit is working for the Order, Harry, and he’s another one looking after Privet Drive.”

So Mrs. Figg wasn’t the only one looking after Harry? He needed multiple baby-sitters to keep track of him now! He began arguing, slowly becoming angrier at their distrust in his independent abilities. “Another one?!” he shouted, standing up, shoving his chair back against the wall behind him, where it toppled over, and glaring at Lupin and Mr. Weasley. “I can take care of myself! Haven’t I proved myself enough times for you?!” he yelled, never tearing his eyes away from their cowering faces. “Everyone thinks I’m such an incompetent baby, but I’m not!” he finished, chest heaving as he stared at them fiercely, daring them to question his anger.

Lupin was the first to speak. Standing to talk to Harry directly, he said soothingly, “No one believes you are incapable of defending yourself, Harry. But as capable as you are to take care of yourself, it involves more than that. We need someone protecting Privet Drive, not just you; we need someone protecting your relatives.”

Harry stood, grudgingly identifying Lupin’s sense in his reasoning, and plopped submissively down in the chair next to him. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility that they were protecting the Dursleys as well, and he felt quite selfish in his oversight.

“Right,” he mumbled, “Of course.”

“And to finish explaining,” Lupin continued nonchalantly, “Sellbit is an Animagus. You know him better as Mr. Tibbles, I do believe. He stays with Mrs. Figg.”

Now, this was something Harry had not been expecting in the slightest. He always felt that there was something unique about Mr. Tibbles, but an Animagus?

Numb with astonishment, Harry slouched back in his chair as he said, bewildered, “This entire time, the cat that I’ve pet has been a human.”

Lupin let out a slight chuckle as he answered, “A little disturbing, I know.”

Harry’s face remained blank as he asked, staring off into space, “Why hasn’t he shown himself before now?”

At this Mr. Weasley re-engaged himself in the conversation, explaining, “Well, he isn’t exactly registered. Transforming into a human risks alerting the ministry to the existence of another wizard in Little Whinging, which they keep track of quite regularly.”

“Then how did you arrive without being detected?” Harry asked, curious.

“Well, since we did not linger long, we weren’t at as high of a risk,” Mr. Weasley began. “Not to mention a Concealment Charm Dumbledore placed around your block before our arrival,” he added as an afterthought. “It’s like a large, invisible, impenetrable dome encasing the neighborhood, and allows us to go undetected for a certain length of time.”

Harry marveled inwardly at Dumbledore’s incredible power. He could not picture anyone else accomplishing such a feat, except maybe Voldemort.

Although he had not previously believed it to be possible, Harry’s head was filled with even more confusing thoughts, chasing each other around his brain, than before he asked his questions.

He rubbed his forehead, willing his increasingly painful headache to go away. Then, just as he stood to thank them for their explanations, there was an incredibly powerful stab of pain in his forehead. Harry gasped, clutching his forehead in both hands, squinting his eyes closed against the pain. It felt as if a burning knife had been stabbed into his scar, and it seared as if it were on fire. He felt his head spin, the pain was unbearable, and he slowly fell…fell….

A high-pitched, icy laughter rang through his ears, a flash of blinding green light flashed before him. He heard his mothers’ cries, “Take me, not him!” his father screaming at Lily, “Take Harry and run! I’ll try to hold him off!”

“Harry! Harry! HARRY!”

Harry looked blearily up at Lupin’s face, bending over him. As soon as he opened his eyes he felt another stab of pain, slighter this time, but it still was painful enough to cause him to take a sharp breath through clenched teeth. Harry sat up, sweating slightly, as Lupin grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. He was still in the kitchen, though he now had a dull throbbing pain on the back of his head as well, and running his hands through his hair he felt a bump beginning to form where his head had smashed into the ground when he fainted.

“Are you alright Harry?” Lupin asked concernedly.

“Yeah,” Harry said, still rubbing his scar, “It was just my scar. It happens all the time.”

Mr. Weasley and Lupin continued to look at him as if afraid he would faint again; he needed to go rest, and escape their fretting stares.

“Um, I’m going to go upstairs now and try to rest for a bit,” Harry said, inching towards the kitchen door.

“Alright,” replied Mr. Weasley, “Everyone’s upstairs, if you care to see them.”

Harry nodded to show he heard and shoved the heavy kitchen door open, starting up a dark staircase leading to the main floor.

But before the door shut behind him, Lupin grabbed it to keep it open and said to Harry, “There are more things we must discuss, Harry. They can wait until after dinner, but they’re important.” Before Harry could say anything, Lupin retreated back into the kitchen, and the door dragged across the thick carpet and shut again.

He had to run his hands along the wall as he climbed the steep wooden stairs in order to keep from tripping in the dark. The only sliver of light shone from the top of the staircase, through a tiny slit at the bottom of the door. Harry creaked open the door quietly, clicking it shut behind him with hardly a sound, and tip-toed across the hall to the main staircase. Pictures of ancient Blacks with hollow eyes lined the walls, and a moth-eaten carpet ran under his feet. Every light in the old house cast an eerie heavy orange glow that bathed the ground below it, and then cast the rest in shadow. As he approached a grand painting with a curtain draped over it, he felt a burst of malice but continued on, careful not to disturb Sirius’ mother. She had locked herself in the painting and they had been unable to get it down from the wall. The picture used to taunt Sirius, throwing insults his way like grenades.

Just as he passed under the picture, there was a sudden noise that pierced the silence and made him jump, turning to see what it was. Harry relaxed, as he saw Mrs. Weasley bustling out a door, dusting everything in sight and humming to herself. When she spotted Harry, standing silently off on the other side of the hall, she said cheerily, “Dinner in an hour, dear.”

“Ok, thanks,” he whispered, glancing apprehensively towards the portrait.

“Now, why are you whispering dear, there’s no need,” said Mrs. Weasley, continuing to dust some old portraits, whose occupants spat at her in disgust. “Dumbledore had that old hag removed; we don’t need to worry about disturbing her anymore.”

“Oh, good,” Harry said, looking back at the wall. “I’ll be back down for dinner,” he added, turning to head up the main stairs. As he trudged up the stairs, he thought of what Ron and Hermione would say about what he had just been told, since he would obviously confide in them everything whether the adults willed it or not. He guessed that Ron would probably look horrified and point out the obvious, but he really wanted to know what Hermione had to make of it. He was so excited to see them, that by the time he reached their old room’s door, he could barely contain his excitement any longer. He smiled to himself as went to open the door, just as the door behind him opened and he heard a loud squeal as he was knocked headfirst into the wall.

“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his now extremely sore head.

“Oh, I’m sorry Harry. I didn’t mean for you to hit your head.”

Harry turned around to see Hermione, smiling apologetically at him. She was dressed in blue jeans and a pink sweater, usually bushy hair tamed into nice wavy curls falling across her shoulders.

Harry grinned at one of his best friends as he said, “It’s fine. I’m alright.”

Hermione grinned back and threw herself on him, arms wrapped in a tight hug.

“We’ve all been so anxious to see you, Harry!” she said, still grinning as she released him. “We were so nervous once we heard that the Death Eaters had escaped. As soon as everyone heard the news, Lupin said that they had to go retrieve you. We tried to force the adults into letting us come too, but they wouldn’t have it.”

“Yeah, I heard. It’s a good thing too,” Harry said. Hermione’s smile drooped a little, but Harry hastily continued, “Come on, I’ll explain in here,” as he opened the bedroom door and led Hermione through.

A/N: I just wanted to take this time to thank everyone who has taken the time to review my story! It means more to me than you could ever know; I greatly, greatly appreciate reviews. I am currently working on Chapter 17 and I’ve got the entire thing all plotted out, though JKR keeps inspiring me with new plot twists with every tidbit she releases about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I can’t wait for it to come out, it sounds fantastic! Sorry it has been a while since the last chapter, and I recognize that based on the definition of a Squib, Petunia can’t be one…but there’s more to this than meets the eye, so please don’t think I’m being stupid and that I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Thank you very, very much for reading my story and please continue! Reviews are GREATLY appreciated! I love them! Please take the time to review when you read it, even if it’s just to say whether or not you like it!

-Thanks again, Casey (padfootmoony13)

Chapter 8- An Unexpected Roommate

It was the same room that he and Ron had shared last year, two four-poster beds standing majestically against the dull yellow walls with a dark wood floor that was cold to the touch under their feet. There was a small wooden table resting against the opposite wall, complete with two hard wooden chairs. A tall wardrobe still stood against the back wall, bottom drawers cracked open with socks and shirts hanging out from when Ron was too lazy to do anything but shove his clothes into them. Next to the wardrobe, the aged, large portrait of Phineus Negellus still hung, currently just a framed blank piece of canvas; Phineus must have been off visiting in other paintings.

However, as soon as Harry closed the door behind him and Hermione and turned to assess the room, he was greeted with a huge surprise. Sitting at the table with Ron, who had apparently grown even taller and had his thick red hair growing untamed, down to well below his neckline, and bent over a game of wizards’ chess in deep concentration, was a slightly round, pudgy boy with a brown toad set on his shoulder: Neville Longbottom.

Harry stood stock-still, looking at Neville in complete confusion. What was he doing here?

On his left Hermione, still smiling, oblivious to Harry’s shock, said, “Ron, Harry’s here!”

Both Ron and Neville, who had been so focused on their game they hadn’t noticed anyone come in, now looked up from their game to where Harry and Hermione stood.

Ron beamed at him as he came over, saying, “Hi Harry, mate. It’s been a while.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, gripping it tightly in welcome.

Harry tore his eyes away from Neville, who was still sitting back at the table, smiling shyly at him, and grinned back at his other best friend, slapping him hard on his back a couple times. “Yeah, it has,” Harry said. “I don’t think I’ve ever missed you guys as much.”

Ron and Hermione’s smiles lit up even more at his words. Meanwhile, Neville had shuffled over, and as Harry shook his hand he said, “Good to see you again, Neville.”

“Good to see you too,” Neville replied.

“Um, not to be rude, or anything, but, what are you doing here?” Harry asked.

“Oh, my Gran and I are staying over this summer; she’s helping Ron’s mum finish cleaning and refurbishing the house. She’s officially a part of the Order of the Phoenix now,” he concluded, with pride.

“Oh, that’s neat, Neville. Which room are you staying in?”

It was not as if Harry disliked Neville; he liked him a good deal, especially after he helped in Sirius’s rescue attempt last year. He had not forgotten how brave Neville was that day, and the fact that Neville was involved, in some ways, with the Prophecy, bonded Harry to him even more. It was just that he wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione so much; he felt he would burst if he did not discuss everything he just learned with them right away. He just did not feel comfortable sharing his fears and private thoughts with Neville; they weren’t close enough.

“Oh, I’m staying just down the hall,” Neville said.

A wave of relief swept through Harry at this news; he could talk to Ron and Hermione alone after all.

Hermione, apparently sensing that Harry was anxious to talk to them, but was hesitant to share anything with Neville, offered, “Ron, why don’t you and Neville finish that game tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry thought to himself.

Ron began to argue, “Oh come on, Mione, we’re almost finished-“

“Tomorrow, Ron,” Hermione interrupted, eyes staring straight at Ron so he would understand her meaning. “Harry needs his rest.”

Ron opened his mouth again, saw Hermione looking at him meaningfully, then throwing her eyes towards the door to indicate that Neville should leave, and changed mid-word, “But Hermione, he can wait a few minut- I mean, yeah, you’re right.”

Ron looked back at Hermione, to see if he did what she wanted, and when she gave a slight nod of her head, continued, “Sorry, Neville. Hermione’s right. We’ll finish the game tomorrow, though.”

“That’s alright,” Neville said, completely oblivious as to what was going on. “Goodnight everyone!”

“Goodnight Neville,” the trio muttered together, fake smiles plastered on their faces, as Hermione held open the door for him and Ron began to gently push him through.

Just as Ron made to push Neville through the door, however, Ginny came in through it. Her long red hair, attributed to her Weasley genes, and freckled face smiled as she stood, blocking the doorway. Ron shrugged as he stopped shoving Neville and Hermione briefly rolled her eyes.

Harry groaned as he felt his headache increase from the pressure of keeping so many ideas locked up for so long, but he put on a cheerful façade as he greeted Ginny.

“Hey, Ginny,” he said, smiling for her benefit. Again, not that he was particularly unhappy to see her; it was just that he wasn’t quite so happy to see her that very moment.

“Hi Ginny,” Neville said, voice squeaking slightly. Harry noticed he was a bit more rosy-cheeked than usual.

“Hello Harry,” she said, smiling up at him. “Neville, I just saw you ten minutes ago,” she added, turning to Neville.

If it was even possible, Harry thought he saw Neville turn an even deeper shade of red, as he looked nervously at the ground.

“Oh, right,” he squeaked.

If Ginny noticed Neville’s odd behavior, she chose to ignore it. “Mum told me you arrived. I’m glad you’re finally here.”

“I’m glad to finally be here too,” said Harry, smiling politely down at Ginny, but then flicking his eyes behind her. For one split second he thought he saw Hermione, standing slightly behind Ginny, glower at the back of her vivid head. But the next second, any trace of a scowl was gone. That was odd…he thought.

“Anyway,” Ginny continued energetically, turning her attention from Harry, “Ron, mum told me to tell you Pig just arrived, downstairs. She wants you to go fetch him, since you’re the only one who can seem to manage to get a hold on him; last I knew he was flitting around the foyer.”

“Stupid git,” Ron muttered, heading out the door and down the hall.

“Speaking of owls, Harry, Hedwig arrived a while ago. I think she’s perched in the main-floor den, on the back of a chair. At least she knows how to sit still; you wouldn’t catch Pig in one place for more than ten seconds,” said Ginny.

“Alright, thanks,” he replied. Then he realized that it was the perfect opportunity to obtain solitude with Hermione and Ron. “Um, Hermione, why don’t you join me? Hedwig would love to see you again.”

“Alright, sure,” said Hermione, playing along.

They both made for the door, but just as they reached it two CRACKS sounded through the air, back-to-back, and they found themselves standing in front of the Weasley twins, Fred and George.

Harry skidded to a halt, sighing to himself and he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. Why, in Merlin’s name, did everyone come to greet him now?

“Hiya, Harry,” said Fred, stepping forward and grabbing Harry’s hand, shaking it vigorously.

George stepped forward and bumped Fred out of the way, pumping Harry’s arm up and down as he said, “Pleasure to see you again.”

Both were dressed in their fine dragon-skin jackets they bought at the end of last year, with slick brown pants and what appeared to be dragon-hide boots as well. Each wore a thick gold chain around their neck, and sported sharp sunglasses, glinting in the light.

“Business is well then,” Harry said, eyeing their new clothes.

“Absolutely booming,” Fred said, raising his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, where they flattened back his bold red hair.

“It seems to be a good market; Zonko’s was threatened by bankruptcy, but we bought them up,” said George.

“Wow,” Harry said, “That’s excellent.”

“It sure is; we’ve rented a place in London. It’s not too bad there either, even if it is crawling with muggles,” joked George.

Fred added, “Yeah, and muggle beer could be worse as well.”

Harry laughed; it sounded like Fred and George were enjoying their new life.

“Well, we just wanted to pop on up here to say hello,” said Fred. “We’ll be staying for dinner, so we’ll see you there.”

And with that, there were two more POPs as Fred and George disapparated.

“Well, Harry,” said Hermione, inching her way towards the door again, “We should probably go tend to Hedwig.”

“Right behind you,” he said, as they both walked briskly through the door and down the hall, leaving Ginny and Neville behind them.

“Finally,” he murmured as he and Hermione walked down the hall, and Hermione let out a slight giggle.

“I know,” she said, smiling as they started down the stairs next to each other. “I didn’t think we’d ever manage to get away, at that rate.”

Another flight down they met Ron, returning upstairs.

“Where are you two headed off to?” he asked.

“We’re going somewhere where I can explain everything to you both,” Harry said, continuing down the stairs.

“Explain what?” Ron asked, following behind.

“Everything that happened to me tonight and what I learned.”

“Huh?” Ron asked, as the reached the foyer, and Harry led them off towards the den.

“Oh, just come on, Ron,” Hermione said, following Harry into the dark room.

A/N: Thank you all for your continued support and interest. This chapter is quite short and I realize not too much happens in it, but Chapter 10 will be up very soon as compensation, and I promise a few more characters, events, and action are to come in the near future. Please stick with the story until then as every story has its slow chapters and its quick ones.

Thanks again and please take the time to review! Reviews are highly appreciated.

-Casey (padfootmoony13)

Chapter 9- The Dark Den Discussion

The den was just as gloomy as the rest of the old house. Ancient velvet drapes hung in front of the windows, floor to ceiling, blocking any chance of light. There were bookcases lining the walls, stacked high with thick, heavy books with leather bindings. Three moss-green, high-backed arm chairs and a large old couch all gathered around a wooden coffee table with serpents carved along the edges.

As soon as Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the room, Ron closing the heavy French doors behind them, a soft hoot greeted them. Hedwig sat perched on one of the chairs, as Ginny said she was, head cocked to one side as she looked over her shoulder at her new company. Harry came forward and stroked her soft feathers, as she clicked her beak happily. Meanwhile Ron and Hermione wandered further into the room, squinting in the dark as they glanced all about the den. Hermione ambled over to one of the bookcases, running her hands along the dusty spines, attempting to read the titles.

“Ugh,” she said, “I can’t see anything. Would someone please light a lamp or something? I left my wand upstairs.”

Harry scanned the walls, but found no lamps in sight.

“There aren’t any,” he said. Just then a loud crash rang through the room and Harry jerked his neck around to see what caused the noise.

“Oops, sorry,” said Ron, smiling nervously at a broken vase on the floor. “I didn’t see it.”

“This is so stupid,” said Hermione, walking over towards one of the windows. “Let’s just draw the curtains.” She fumbled to find a crack separating the curtains and then flung them wide open to the sides, exposing an incredible sight.

Instead of the dark night outside, with several run-down houses lining the street as there really was, there was a meadow full of bright flowers, with a stream running through it.

“Oh, wow!” Hermione gasped, marveling at the sight before her.

Harry walked over to the window, standing next to Hermione.

“I’ve heard of this spell,” Hermione said, continuing to stare out the window. “You can enchant the windows to project whatever image you’d like; I’ve read about it in Enchanting Enchantments.”

Good old Hermione; of course she had read it somewhere. She had read everything somewhere at some point. What always amazed Harry the most was how she managed to remember it all.

“So what were you going to tell us Harry?” Ron asked, stretching out on the couch.

He and Hermione came and sat down by him, in two armchairs, Hermione sitting cross-legged on her chair, looking intently at Harry, while he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Well, you won’t believe this but…” he began. Harry told them everything. He explained what had happened on Privet Drive; the Dementor attack, how his Aunt reacted, the Ministry officials coming to destroy his wand, going back to retrieve Lupin. Ron and Hermione were the perfect audience; they gasped at the right moments, they worried at the right moments. They both looked completely petrified; Ron stared at Harry with his mouth hanging open the entire time, ash faced, and Hermione rung her shirt bottom around in anxiety, eyes wide and never leaving Harry.

After about 20 minutes of relentless explanations, Harry said, “So, what do you think?”

Hermione and Ron, who were continuing to stare at him as if mystified with what they were hearing, both relaxed slightly as they tried to help him out. Ron leaned his head back on the arm of the couch, looking up towards the ceiling.

“You were right, I don’t believe it,” Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, it does make sense, I suppose,” Hermione began, eyes concentrated on the table in front of her. “I mean, I know we never suspected it, but everything fits together.”

Harry watched her curiously, as she stood up abruptly, pacing the room back and forth and gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

“Think about it. Harry, your mother was a wizard and so of course it’s possible for your Aunt to be a Squib, and she wouldn’t want you to know, because she hates wizards and she’s probably a bit ashamed of what she is.”

“And that explains why she seemed to know more than she let on; she’s been in contact with wizards,” Harry said, telling them what he thought.

“Plus, she’s not just in contact with wizards,” Ron began, twirling his legs around down onto the ground and sitting up. “She’s in contact with Dumbledore. That counts for something.”

Hermione continued pacing the room, saying, “Well, of course she is Ron. If she’s in contact with the wizarding world at all it would be with Dumbledore. He’s the one who knows most about Harry and his connections with his Aunt.”

“Hold on a moment,” Ron said, forehead wrinkled in concentration, “Why do you have to go back to the Dursley’s every summer?”

Harry’s thoughts immediately flashed to the Prophecy, but he decided there was no harm in telling them what Dumbledore had said regarding his stays at the Dursley’s.

“Dumbledore told me it was because of my Aunt, and her blood protection. Apparently, I’m safe from Voldemort there, and staying with her for a little while gives me a bit of protection all year long, or something,” he said.

“Oh,” Ron said, leaning back on the couch again.

“What about all that extra protection, that Animagus cat looking after me?” Harry asked.

Hermione stopped pacing the room and sat down in the chair next to Harry.

“Harry, you already knew people were looking after you during the summer. What’s really important with the extra protection was Lupin’s comment about needing protection for your relatives.”

Harry looked at her, questioning, “Why do you think they need protection? Do you think Voldemort will come after them?”

Ron took in a sharp breath at Voldemort’s name and Hermione flinched a little, but they didn’t say anything. They were becoming used to it.

Hermione said, looking meaningfully at Harry, “He just might. Harry, if you have protection through her, then there’s a good chance that V-V-Voldemort will take action against her.”

“But he doesn’t know,” Harry argued.

Hermione said, “Not yet, and let’s hope it remains that way. However, Dumbledore and the others must be taking special precautions just in case.”

Harry felt another pang of uncustomary fondness towards his Aunt, accompanied with sympathy. She was putting more than her comfortable, wizard-free life at stake by keeping him; she was jeopardizing her own life, and the lives of her family.

The three of them sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes, none of them speaking. After a while, Hermione said slowly, “I wonder what will happen with your trial, Harry.”

Harry groaned and slouched back in his chair; he suddenly felt extremely nauseous. He had completely forgotten all about the trial; he dismissed the entire Patronus Spell issue after they escaped with his wand intact.

Apparently Ron noticed the sick look on Harry’s face, because he said, scooting down the couch out of Harry’s projectile zone, “You don’t look so good, mate.”

Hermione looked concernedly at Harry. “Don’t worry too much, Harry. I’m sure everything will be fine; they won’t destroy your wand; they can’t. Besides, you had a reasonable excuse for performing the spell.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Harry said miserably. “But unfortunately, you forgot to mention the fact that we left six ministry officials unconscious in my Uncle’s home. And I’ve been warned before.”

“True…” Hermione said, and then she sighed. “I suppose all of our hopes rely on whether Percy decides to convict you or not.”

“Yeah, well don’t count on it,” Ron said heavily. “He doesn’t exactly love Harry after all. You aren’t likely to sway him from the rules.”

Chapter 10- An Inheritance

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all left the den, Ron closing the heavy drapes back over the enchanted windows and Hermione restoring the vase that Ron had knocked over. A giant, black lacquered grandfather clock stood in the main foyer, and by squinting his eyes Harry could just make out the time through the dirty face.

“We’d better get down to the kitchen, it’s time for dinner,” he said, leading the others down the dark stairwell.

“This meal should be rather festive,” Ron said, as they descended the stairs, “Now that Fred and George are here.”

“We’ll have to re-stock the Butterbeer supply afterwards, again,” Hermione said, as they reached the thick door.

Upon entering the kitchen, they found everyone else already there, all conversing noisily. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around the cooking area, pointing her wand at pots and pans, causing the water within them to rise to a sudden boil. Then, with a flick of her wand, the dishes all rose and carried themselves to set orderly on the long dining table. The air was thick and hot, carrying the same delicious smells that Harry had smelled earlier; his mouth began to water slightly as he felt a dull pain in his stomach; he was quite hungry. Meanwhile, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood discussing Order business against a wall, glasses filled with red wine. Already congregated around the middle of the table were Fred, George, Bill Weasley, and the dodgy, bandy-legged Mundugus Fletcher. Bill was dressed in a simple striped shirt and brown slacks, red pony-tail draped down behind him and dragon-fang earring dangling from one ear; Mrs. Weasley had tried numerous times, to no avail, to discourage Bill’s choice of attire. On the contrary, Mundugus Fletcher was dressed in his signature long, tatty khaki trench coat, the many randomly-placed pockets bulging with knick-knacks; Harry had the faint suspicion that many of the oddly-shaped objects were in some form illegal. Sitting on the end of the table furthest from them, by a roaring fire cracking and adding heat to the already sweltering room was someone Harry had not expected to see until next summer: Mrs. Figg. His batty neighbor was conversing rapidly, with wild gestures and flailing arm movements, with another old lady: Mrs. Longbottom, Neville’s Gran. Both ladies had on old gray dresses and had wispy hair pulled back in messy buns. However, unlike Mrs. Figg, who only wore the color gray, Neville’s Gran had on her crazy stuffed-vulture hat with a bright-red handbag. Harry suppressed a laugh as he remembered seeing Neville’s boggart Snape dressed in those clothes during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class in his third year.

Ron nudged Harry with his elbow and tilted his head in Mrs. Figg’s direction as he muttered, “Wonder who that is?”

“Oh, that’s Mrs. Figg. You know, the lady from Privet Drive. I guess she did not show up today because she was busy doing something here,” Harry said.

Hermione, who was standing on the other side of Harry, looked in the direction Harry and Ron were looking, attempting to spot the lady they were discussing.

“Is she nice, Harry? You’ve never mentioned much about her,” Hermione said.

“Oh yeah, she’s really nice. She’s just a bit loony sometimes is all, and she’s obsessed about her cats; she makes me look at their pictures every time I come to her house,” Harry said, continuing to look around the room.

Just to the side of the two old ladies, Ginny, a rosy Neville and Charlie Weasley all stood. Charlie, who was another one of Ron’s older brothers, was quite tall and brood-shouldered; he studied dragons in Romania. Harry took a great liking to him after he helped save Hagrid from a sentence in Azkaban, after he took the time to come and take a baby dragon away from Hogwarts; owning dragons, especially in domesticated areas, was against wizarding law. Apparently Charlie was telling them a joke, because they were all laughing hysterically, Ginny clutching her stomach as her face turned red.

Last, against the opposite wall in a shadow, stood Mr. Weasley and Lupin. Both had their heads together and they alone made an effort to keep their voices lowered. However, before he could point out the suspicious duo to Ron and Hermione, their attention was diverted away to something else as Tonks noticed their presence.

“Ho, you three!” she said, beckoning them over, “Kingsley wanted to say hello to Harry.”

Kingsley, who was quite an imposing figure, towered over the three of them, even Ron. The black man had great hoop-earrings and had a broad, muscular chest. His booming voice echoed around the room as he said, looking down at Harry and shaking his hand, “Good to see you again, Potter.”

“Good to see you too,” Harry replied. Despite Kingsley’s frightening stature, he was really nice. Kingsley was in charge of deterring the Ministry Aurors away from Sirius’s case and onto something else; he gave them wrong locations and leads. Or at least he used to; Harry wasn’t quite sure what he did anymore.

“What have you been doing lately?” Harry asked. “Have they pulled you from, you know, his case, in order to help fight against Voldemort?”

Shacklebolt let out a huge bark of a laugh, saying, “HA! You would think they would, wouldn’t you? But no, they keep me on Sirius’ case, not that it matters much now…”

Harry looked down at the ground, as more grief swelled inside him. Of course it didn’t matter anymore, now that he was… Sirius was…gone. Not dead, but gone. At least that’s what Harry told himself. And with that grief over his godfather’s death came shame; he didn’t care what Dumbledore had said, it was still partially his own fault that he no longer had Sirius with him.

He felt a large hand on his shoulder as he looked up at Shacklebolt, who was smiling down kindly at him, “Don’t worry, Harry. It will all look up soon enough.”

Harry nodded his head, forcing his mind to dwell upon something other than Sirius. However, he could never push the dark thoughts away for long; they were always waiting, stirring around in the back of his head, forcing their way into his thoughts at every mention of Sirius’ name. He felt his jaw reluctantly move, changing the subject, fighting against his mind, “Then what do you do all the time?”

Shacklebolt replied, “Well, I don’t do much. Pretty much just lie low; the only reason the Ministry is still on the case is because they still believe that he was in the league with he-who-must-not-be-named and he’s out there hiding somewhere; they think he may be one of his followers now.”

Harry surged with indignation, “But he’s not! He’s not even here; it isn’t fair that everyone thinks such things about him, when it’s all that filthy Wormtail’s fault!”

Tonks cut in, “We know Harry. Trust me, we know. But the fact still remains that there is no clear evidence, apart from yours’ and Hermione’s testimonies, that Pettigrew is even alive today. Kingsley has no choice but to send the other Aurors on pointless expeditions in search of him.”

Shacklebolt said, “Besides, it allows me more time to do something useful, to work for the Order. It allows me time to actually fight he-who-must-not-be-named, rather than sit back and allow the Ministry to waste another Aurors’ skills.”

Harry nodded his head in understanding, smiling weakly at Shacklebolt. “I understand,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to Mrs. Figg.”

“Alright, keep your chin up,” Shacklebolt said, turning back to Tonks, picking up their conversation where it left off.

“Come on,” Harry said to Hermione and Ron, sidling his way past the two Aurors and making his way towards the back of the kitchen, where Mrs. Figg was still talking to Neville’s Gran.

“And so I said, well if you don’t have Whiskers cat food any longer, I’ll just have to take up my business elsewhere. You should have seen the look on that man’s face, watching his most faithful customer walking out on him. Well, the bloke deserves it. Stops carrying Whiskers cat chow, I ask you.” Mrs. Figg was telling an attentive Ms. Longbottom a story, and neither noticed the three of them approach. As they stood off to the side of the two ladies, waiting for a good point to interrupt, Ron glanced sideways at Harry.

“I completely agree,” Ms. Longbottom began, “I had the same thing happen to me just the other week with my favorite toe-floss salesman. Just up and stopped carrying the stuff. He said there wasn’t enough demand for it, and I can’t imagine why. It’s such an essential item, really,” she said, and as Ron began to suppress a laugh, Hermione had to stamp hard on his foot to get him to shut up; Ms. Longbottom was being serious.

Harry cleared his throat, saying, “Um, Mrs. Figg?”

Both ladies turned around in their seats to see who was addressing them. As soon as Mrs. Figg saw Harry, she exclaimed, springing from her chair, “Oh! Harry! How are you, boy?” Before Harry could answer, she continued, “I heard all about what happened. Dementors again, my, my. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you arrived; a few of the Order members showed up to take me here; I had planned to run some errands, you see, in Hogsmeade. But then, when we returned back here, before I departed to head back home through the floo, there was a message sent from Dumbledore telling me to remain here, and now I know why! I’m just glad they got you out of there too, with those Death Eaters on the loose again; Merlin only knows what will happen now.”

Mrs. Longbottom rose to her feet too, smiling sweetly at the three of them. “Hello, Harry. I take it that Neville told you we’re staying here this summer.”

“Yeah, he did. That’s great to hear you’ve joined the Order.”

“Well, I decided I’d try to make myself useful, and some housework is just the type of exercise my old bones need. It really is a nice house, this Black Mansion. It just needs some new furniture and paint, or as I like to say, it’s time to put some lipstick on the pig.”

Harry smiled back at the kooky old lady in the vulture hat, wondering if Neville’s parents had been this odd as well. A clink of a knife on a glass alerted him, and he turned to look towards the other end of the table, where Mrs. Weasley was standing with a wine glass in hand.

“Dinner’s ready. Let’s all sit down to eat,” she said, smiling proudly at the fine meal she had prepared. And as everyone took a chair around one half of the extensive dining table, Harry found that it was a fine meal indeed; she could give the house-elves at Hogwarts a run for their money. Stretched all along the table in front of him were a large variety of mouth-watering dishes; there was roast as well as a whole chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, an enormous bowl of fresh tossed salad, a large range of vegetables from asparagus to corn, a basket full of steaming rolls, a large tuna casserole, and two enormous pumpkin pies. Harry grabbed a bit of everything, eating vigorously; he was incredibly hungry. To the right of him sat Mrs. Figg and Ms. Longbottom, now discussing some bad shampoo they had once bought. On his left, Hermione sat listening to Ginny, who was sitting next to her, tell her all about the letters Dean Thomas had sent her over the break so far. Past them, Fred and George sat discussing their business animatedly with Mundugus while Mrs. Weasley scowled slightly at them; she still did not relish the concept of the twins being in a joke-shop business.

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes sells more Fainting Fancies and Puking Pastilles than anything else,” Fred said.

George added, ripping off a piece of chicken from a drumstick with his teeth, “Not to mention Nosebleed Nuggets; we’ve sold at least a hundred crates full of them to the poor Hogwarts students so far this summer; they all seem to be stocking up in preparations for another year chocked full of History of Magic classes.”

Mundugus let out a harsh laugh, “That horrible, horrible class.”

Heading up the table was Mrs. Weasley, with Mr. Weasley and Lupin sitting to her left. Bill, who sat down opposite Harry, and Charlie, who sat next to Bill, had both leaned across the table to shake his hand and say hello before they began to eat. Bill was discussing his job at Gringotts and how he was still teaching Fleur Delacour her “eenglish.”

“She seems to be getting quite a bit better; her accent is less defined,” he told Charlie.

“So, when are you taking her out again?” Charlie asked, smirking.

Bill blushed slightly but kept his cool. “We’re going to dinner this Sunday, actually; she’s taking me to a French restaurant she likes.”

“You’re dating Fleur now?” Harry asked interestedly, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.

“They hit it off while they were working together,” Charlie said, still grinning mischievously. “Apparently she ‘waz takeen by heem’ when she saw him visiting you at the Triwizard Tournament.”

Harry and Charlie laughed as Bill elbowed Charlie in the ribs.

“What?” Charlie laughed, “It’s true!”

When everybody finished eating, and their pants felt considerably tighter, Mrs. Weasley and Ms. Longbottom began to magically clear the table, dishes stacking neatly in the sink. Everyone else slowly began to leave the room, heading upstairs to disperse into their own bedrooms. Ron and Hermione stood and turned to go back upstairs, arguing about which was better: Wizard’s Chess or Gobbstones.

“Personally, I think both are rather pointless,” said Hermione, “But, I’d have to go with Gobbstones; it’s not as brutish.”

“But that’s the whole point of Wizard’s Chess!” Ron said, opening the door. “Besides, I would have thought that a game requiring intellect would attract you.”

“Well, muggle chess does, but not one where the pieces smash each other up constantly. Harry, are you coming?” she asked, poking her head back through the door.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Harry rose to follow them, shaking his head; Ron and Hermione were always arguing about something. He often wondered why Ron simply didn’t give up; Hermione always won. Long ago, he had decided it was best just to stay out of it.

However, as he began to exit the kitchen, Lupin called him back. “Harry, we need to discuss something before you head off to bed, remember?”

“Oh yeah, sorry; I forgot,” he said. “I’ll be up in a bit,” he added to Hermione, who was standing on the stairs waiting for him.

“Alright,” she said, looking curiously at Harry, before turning and heading back up the stairs with Ron.

Harry walked back into the kitchen and sat down opposite Mr. Weasley and Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley and Neville’s Gran finished up with the dishes (“Scourgify!”).

“So, what’s so important?” Harry asked, leaning his chair back on two legs. He wasn’t too worried about what they were going to say. They would probably just tell him to be a good boy again this year, and to try to ignore the looming threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, as if he could even if he tried.

“Well, don’t worry, Harry; it isn’t anything bad,” Lupin began.

I’m not worried, Harry thought.

“It’s about the matter of Sirius’ will.”

Harry let his chair crash back to the ground, with a clunk. He had not been expecting this at all; he had never even entertained the thought that Sirius had a will, let alone that it involved him.

“What about it?” he croaked, trying to sound unconcerned; he hated thinking about Sirius and as he felt himself becoming secretly more and more curious about what Sirius put him in his will for, he began to feel incredibly guilty and ashamed of himself. His godfather was dead, and here he was wondering what he got out of it.

“Well, as soon as he met you and you saved him, he was so thankful and proud; all he talked about was you. He was really looking forward to you staying with him, up until the unfortunate circumstances involved with Peter’s escape, and it crushed him when he learned that he could not provide a home for his godson, as he had promised. So instead, when he took up residence here, at Grimmauld Place, he decided to revise his will; all of the possessions that were meant to go to James, he deeded to you, and then some.”

Harry watched on as Lupin withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment from inside his cloak, and handed it over to Harry.

“Harry, Sirius has left you his entire inheritance, including all of the Black riches from his vault, and his home,” Lupin said, as Harry unfolded the parchment and began to silently mouth the words as he heard Lupin speak them, jaw agape. He couldn’t believe it; Sirius had left him, well, everything. He, Harry, was the owner of Grimmauld Place, as well as even more wealth.

Lupin continued, smiling slightly, “He knew you didn’t really have a home to go to, after you graduated, and he figured that since it was going to be yours, anyway, if things had turned out differently…”

Harry just sat there thickly, dumbfounded. He could not believe his eyes or ears. Not only did he have a home to stay in, and invite others to, instead of always burdening them as a guest, but he had a terrific home; he had the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. In addition to that, he had now obtained even more wealth, not that he needed it; actually, that part made him feel rather guilty.

Mr. Weasley smiled at Harry’s flabbergasted expression, and said, “We would have told you sooner, but we did not want to risk any letters to your home being intercepted, and we only received news of it two weeks ago as it was.”

Harry finally found his voice. “I don’t deserve all of this,” he said.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lupin said, “Sirius wanted you to have it, and you will. It was what he wanted, whether you think you need it or not. Besides, none of us need a home; we already have ones.”

“Well, yeah,” Harry said, “But, I don’t need any more money. My parents have left me more than enough to be getting on with.”

“Forget about it,” Mr. Weasley said. “You can’t do anything about it now; he signed a magical contract binding the items to you. It’s all yours to do what you wish with.”

Harry nodded his head, looking down at the table; he always felt ashamed of his enormous wealth, while the Weasleys were incredibly poor. However, they would never accept his money, no matter how many times he offered it; they were too stubbornly proud to accept any forms of charity, whether it came from a friend or not, and in a way, that impressed Harry.

“Now, one last matter before you head off to bed,” said Lupin. “Since this is now your residence, we’re preparing to move the Order Headquarters to some other establishment.”

Harry sprung up from his seat, exclaiming, “What?! No! There’s no need to move it; I want it to stay here; then I can see all of you even more. Besides, this is the best place for it, and you know it!”

Mr. Weasley beamed at him, but Lupin still looked stern. “Are you sure, Harry?” he asked. “This is, after all, your home now, and it is not fair of us to pressure you into keeping such a risky operation head here, let alone all of the guests you will have needing to stay here.”

“I’m positive,” Harry said.

Lupin cracked a grin too, as he stood, saying, “Good. That’s settled then. Tomorrow we’ll head off to Diagon Alley, to visit Gringotts so you can make the transaction official. Everyone is going to get a head-start buying there school supplies, as well. We’ve already arranged for the Advance Guard to accompany all of you there.”

“Alright,” Harry said. “I’ll see you both tomorrow morning. Goodnight.”

Harry bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached his bedroom, he found both Hermione and Ron waiting up for him, dressed in their pajamas.

“What did they need to talk to you about?” Ron asked, as Harry came in and plopped down on the bed next to Ron’s, laying flat on his back next to Hermione.

“Sirius left me an inheritance,” he said, fighting to keep a straight face as he looked up at the bed canopy, hands behind his head.

Hermione turned around to face him and asked, “What?”

“Yeah,” he continued, “He left me the Black fortune and mansion.”

Ron and Hermione both stared at him before Ron bolted upright, staring excitedly at Harry and Hermione’s jaw slowly dropped.

“Are you serious?!” Ron asked.

Harry continued to keep a straight face as he sat up, looking at both Ron and Hermione. “I’m serious,” he said. He grinned as Ron hooted and jumped up into the air while Hermione shrieked and launched herself at him, arms wide, knocking him back onto the bed, laughing. As happy as Ron and Hermione were, Harry thought that they were not even half as happy as he was.

A/N: Here's a longer one for you- I hope you like it. Thanks for your comments, however I'm sorry if you want more romance, because I'm putting in just the amount that I think is appropriate given that Harry hasn't admitted to himself that he likes Hermione as `more than a friend' yet. If you feel the need to flame me, go ahead- I'll just laugh at you. On the other hand, if you have any constructive criticism or any suggestions/requests, I'd be happy to take them.

Chapter 11- A Trip to Diagon Alley

The next morning Harry awoke to the sound of a loud knocking on the door and Mrs. Weasley calling. “Come on now, you two. Wake up.”

Harry groaned as he rolled over and grabbed his glasses off the bedside table, sitting up as he put them on. To the left of him, Ron continued to snore loudly. Harry yawned and stretched before leisurely getting to his feet, shuffling his heavy feet over to the dresser drawer his clothes were in. After he pulled a t-shirt over his head and pulled on some jeans, he fed Hedwig a treat he retrieved from the bottom of his cluttered trunk and then walked over to Ron's bed.

“Wake up, Ron,” he yawned, shaking him slightly. Ron groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow defiantly down over his ears. Harry sighed and yanked the pillow from Ron's grasp, pulling the sheets off of him so that Ron sat up, shivering. “Get dressed,” Harry said, as Ron sat hunched over on his bed, eyelids drooping.

“Why do we have to get around so early?” Ron yawned, as he and Harry trudged down the stairs a few minutes later.

“Probably want to beat the crowd,” Harry said, tousling his messy hair. He and Ron scuffled their feet down the stairs, both too tired to use up any of the precious energy it took to talk.

They entered the kitchen and flopped down onto two chairs. Grabbing a box of cereal and a jug of milk, Harry prepared his breakfast in a zombie-like fashion; he had not woken up this early in over a month. As he spooned mouthfuls of cereal into his mouth, Hermione and Ginny entered the kitchen, sitting beside him and Ron. Unlike him and Ron, they were both rather pleasant and cheery.

“Did you have a good night sleep?” Hermione asked conversationally, pouring herself a bowl of cereal.

Ron just grunted and continued to nibble at his cereal, leaning on the table so that his nose was practically touching his breakfast.

“Yeah, it was fine,” Harry said.

“I can't wait to purchase all of the new school books; I want to get a head-start reading them,” said Hermione earnestly. “You guys should too,” she added to Ron and Harry.

“And I can't wait to pick out a pet,” Ginny said enthusiastically. “Mum said I could get one this year.”

“What kind of pet are you going to get,” Harry asked, spooning a bite of cereal into his mouth.

“Oh, I'm hoping to get a cat. They're so nice and cuddly; besides, I love Crookshanks so I'm hoping that my cat is as sweet.”

“That cat, sweet?” Ron asked, looking up from his cereal.

Hermione glared at him coldly as Ginny said, “Yes, Ron, sweet.”

Ron shrugged and buried his face back in his cereal again; apparently he had decided it was too early to argue.

A little while later Neville entered the room, along with his Gran and Mrs. Figg. Neville took a seat next to Ginny while she told him all about wanting to get a cat. When Mrs. Figg heard this, she said, “Great choice! Cats are wonderful creatures, really. I don't see why anyone would want anything other than a cat. Just a piece of advice: go for a white one; they're always the sweetest of cats and you'll find they will be incredibly faithful.”

Ginny looked at her uneasily but smiled just the same. “Thanks,” she said.

“Are you coming with us, Mrs. Figg?” Harry asked.

“Me? Oh, no. I'm heading back home, where I should be.”

Once everyone finished their breakfasts, the Advance Guard arrived to escort them to Diagon Alley. The group was comprised of a large amount of Order members, all of whom Harry had met before. Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody headed up the group, hobbling up to Harry on his wooden leg, bowler hat titled over his electric blue, magical eye and hip flask swishing.

“Potter,” he growled, shaking his hand.

“How are you, Professor Moody?” he asked.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a professor, I never was. Please, just call me Moody.” Moody had been his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in his fourth year at Hogwarts; or at least everyone had believed him to be. As it turned out, the Moody teaching them had been an imposture the entire time. Still, in his day Moody had been an excellent Auror, and now that he was in retirement, he had plenty of time to help out the Order.

“I take it your summer was a bit more pleasant than usual with that bunch, and that Uncle of yours,” Moody said.

“Yeah, it was, thanks,” said Harry. “They pretty much left me on my own, which was the way I preferred it.”

“Good to hear it,” said Moody. Then he looked over Harry's shoulder at everyone standing behind him, ready to go. “Everyone's ready I see. Good. We're going to have to walk a ways again, but the weather is nicer than last time. I want everyone to spilt into two groups that will walk on either side of the road. You three,” he growled, pointing a knotty finger at Harry, Ron and Hermione, “Will take the left-hand side. And the rest of you, take the right.”

As he talked, Harry glanced over his shoulder at the group standing behind him. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, a squirmy man named Dedalus Diggle, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and a pleasant yet reserved woman named Emmeline Vance all stood waiting. Each was wearing their finest versions of muggle clothes, and all-in-all, Harry thought they did a pretty good job. None of them were wearing cloaks or wizard's hats; in fact the only conspicuous part about them was Tonk's now purple hair. Emmeline Vance waved at Harry, who smiled back, while Dedalus Diggle bounced around Moody and shook Harry's hand.

“Hello, again, Mr. Potter,” he said excitedly. “Do you remember me? I was-“

“In the Advance Guard last year as well as in the pub leading into Diagon Alley in my first year,” Harry said, smiling at the jovial little man. “Yes, I do.”

Diggle blushed slightly at the recognition and released Harry's hand, retreating back into the group, grinning.

When they reached the street and the house that they had just exited shrunk back into invisibility, they found the weather was quite nice indeed. Although the early morning air was still crisp, the sun was rising over the houses, casting a bit of warmth onto their faces. Since he had spent his entire summer outdoors, Harry was more than happy to get out of the dark house and get a bit of fresh air and sunlight. They all split up into two groups accordingly; Moody, Tonks, Dedalus, and Lupin took up their places around Harry, Ron and Hermione, completely surrounding them. The entire time they were walking, each of the Advance Guard members kept their eyes peeled for anything unusual or any sign of danger; the way they glanced all around them constantly made Harry feel a little nervous.

When they reached the muggle train station, Harry and Hermione paid for everyone, since they knew how to count muggle money. The train was packed full of sleepy business men and women, all on their way to work. Harry stood, holding onto a pole as the train jerked around, looking out the window as the dark tunnel passed by. Several people seemed to be sleeping, but whenever the train would shudder to a halt and the doors squeaked open, they would miraculously open their eyes and get off as if they had been awake the entire time. After what felt like an hour of stopping and going on the train, they reached their stop as the train squeaked to a halt and the doors jerked open.

Moody growled, leading them all off the train, “This is our stop.” Several of the remaining passengers gawked slightly at their strange group as they filed off the train, into the dark station. When they climbed the stairs that led out of the station and up into the road above, Harry squinted and blinked his eyes against the bright sun.

“It's not too far from here,” Moody said, limping off down the street.

“Should we split up again once we're at Diagon Alley?” Mrs. Weasley asked as they all followed Moody down the bustling sidewalk.

“I think it's safe enough to split up a bit, as long as no one wanders off alone,” Mr. Weasley said.

“Right,” Lupin said. “I'll take Harry and anyone else who wants to head to Gringotts first.”

Tonks said, “And I'll go with you.”

“Alright,” said Lupin, as they squeezed their way through the crowd of hurrying customers and business men. “Alastor, why don't you, Emmeline, Dedalus, and Molly all take Ron, Ginny and Neville around to any shops that interest them while you're waiting for us; we'll all purchase the school books and other necessities together.”

“Sounds good,” Moody said, as they reached the tiny pub that served as the entrance way to Diagon Alley. Harry looked around as all of the muggles passed it by, completely oblivious to its presence. As he looked up at the swaying sign above the door, the emblem “The Leaky Cauldron” suddenly appeared.

“Come on, Harry,” said Lupin, as he led him through the door, followed closely by everyone else.

Inside, the pub was much cheerier than outside. As they all shuffled in, Tom, the innkeeper, looked up from behind the bar where he was cleaning a glass with a dishrag. Grinning a toothless grin, he put the glass down and scurried around to the front of the bar, in order to greet them.

“Hello, hello. Pleasure to see ye all again. What can I do for ye?”

“We're just heading through to Diagon Alley today, Tom. No time to stop for drinks,” said Lupin.

“Ah,” said Tom, as he glanced around at the group. When his eyes fell onto Harry, he came up to him and said, “Good to see you again, Mr. Potter. Fine summer?”

“I've been fine, thanks.” Harry said. Tom had taken care of all of his needs when he had stayed here in the summer before his third year, and Harry remembered his kindness. “And yours?”

“Couldn't have been better,” Tom said. Then he leaned closer to Harry and lowered his voice, “Although, them Death Eaters escaping hasn't favored me business; everyone's `fraid to go about much.”

Moody put a hand on Tom's shoulder, pulling him back away from Harry. “Sorry to hear that, Tom. We'll be sure to stop by later for a round of drinks.”

Tom looked furtively at Moody for a moment before mumbling, “Yes, right. I'd best be getting back to me job, now. Good day to ye.” He turned and scuffled back over to the bar, as Moody gently pushed Harry towards the back door, guiding him through the pub. Once outside, Mr. Weasley tapped the bricks that triggered the entire wall to shift and allow them to pass through. Diagon Alley, usually a crowded street full of witches and wizards, seemed completely deserted. The occasional passerby walked on, with their head down, but for the most part, the atmosphere was heavy and dreary. Hermione seemed to notice this because she leaned close to Harry and murmured, “This place is kind of spooky today. It's just like when they escaped back in our fourth year.”

Harry nodded his head, as they moved on close to one another. The group split up as they had previously determined it would, and Lupin, Tonks, Harry and Hermione headed off towards the end of the street where the great, tall, marble bank towered over the other humble shops. The others headed off the other way, in order to wander around until they met up again at Flourish and Blotts. However, Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley and Kingsley wandered off in their own directions, eyes scanning every alley way they passed. He shivered in the warm air as the four of them climbed the large stone steps into the bank.

Inside, the wizarding bank was just as Harry remembered it; the goblins that ran it were all either hobbling about the hall on their short legs, or updating the books. Lupin walked in front of Harry and Hermione, Tonks bringing up the rear, as they walked all the way to the back wall, where a head goblin sat recording data in an enormous leather-bound book. When they reached the desk, the goblin looked up at them and said, “Yes?”

Lupin said, “We're here to exchange some muggle money as well as officiate a certain transaction.”

“You may exchange the money at the desk to your left, as the sign says,” the goblin said coldly. “However, I can help you with the transaction. Who does it regard?”

Harry stepped forward and said, “Me.”

The goblin sneered down at him, glancing at his forehead. “Why, Mr. Potter. Back again, I see. Yes, I know all about the transaction of which you speak- most uncommon for such a large amount of money to be just handed over to another wizard.”

“We aren't discussing this,” Lupin said, angrily, “Just give him the document to sign and we'll be on our way to his vault.”

The goblin stared coldly at Lupin but obeyed his will, withdrawing from behind his desk a piece of parchment for Harry to sign. Harry grabbed a quill, skimmed through the document, which basically stated what he was receiving, and signed off at the bottom of the page.

As soon as he was done, the goblin snatched the letter back from him and yelled, “Griphook!”

Another goblin came scurrying out from amidst the throng and skidded to a halt in front of the tall desk.

“Yes?” he asked, and as he spoke Harry looked down at him; he thought the name sounded familiar; Griphook was the goblin who showed him to his vault for the very first time, in his first year with Hagrid.

“Please escort these people to Mr. Harry Potter's vault.” He then turned to Harry and said, “You will find that the transaction has already been made; you will find all of your new possessions in your own vault.”

The goblin then busied himself back in his paperwork as Griphook grunted, “Follow me,” and waddled off down a side hall to where the carts were waiting.

They all crawled onto the cart as Griphook said, “Hold on,” and they took off with a sudden swoosh. Harry's hair was blown back from his head, and the fast air made his eyes water, but he looked around as best as he could at all of the enormous vault doors whooshing past him on either side. He felt Hermione grab his arm next to him, and he turned to see her looking rather pale with her eyes closed tight. When they arrived at the vault, Harry practically had to pry Hermione's hand off of his arm, as he helped her off the cart.

“It's ok, Hermione,” he said, smiling slightly at her fretful state, “You can let go now. The cart has stopped.”

Hermione slowly released his arm, opening her eyes and sighing. “Sorry,” she said.

Harry smiled at her as they walked up to his vault. Griphook said, “Key,” and Lupin withdrew Harry's small golden key that Harry had given him earlier for safe-keeping. Griphook took it in his long fingers and wobbled up to the door, inserting it as the clink-clunking of a hundred internal locks unlocking rang through the air. Then Griphook stepped back as the vault door swung slowly open, green smoke billowing out of it. When all of the smoke cleared, Harry's jaw dropped as Hermione gasped beside him. His vault, previously containing neat piles of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts, had magically expanded to double the previous size. The room was full, floor-to-ceiling of mounds upon mounds of gold. Harry stepped forward cautiously, staring in awe at his fortune, pinching his arm to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Lupin stepped up next to him and stared with him.

“Wow,” said Lupin. “Even I wasn't expecting quite this much.”

Harry's mind suddenly snapped back into actuality, as the reality of it all hit him and he had to restrain himself from dashing straight into the vault and diving into the piles of money.

Instead, he stepped forward, filling his entire money bag with gold Galleons, and walked calmly back out again.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, walking past the three of them, who were still staring awe-struck, and hopped back into the cart again.

Once everyone else came back to their senses and hopped back into the cart, Griphook closed the vault door and sped the cart off again. This time, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand to keep her from digging her nails into his arm again, and she smiled weakly at him as they careened up the steep railway. Back in the lobby, Hermione exchanged the money her parents had given her for the year and they headed back outside, Harry's pants sagging from the weight of his money bag. They met up with the others inside Flourish and Blotts, although Mr. Weasley and Kingsley were still wandering outside. Even this store only had a few people, perusing the shelves stacked high with books.

Just as they walked towards the back of the shop, however, Harry pulled Hermione off to the side.

“Don't tell Ron about my vault, alright?” he said.

Hermione nodded and said, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, as they both began walking through the shelves, scanning the books. “I've just wondered,” Harry said, “How are we even going to know what books to purchase? School lists don't arrive for another month or so.”

Hermione looked thoughtful and said, “I suppose Dumbledore informed Lupin or somebody which books to buy; he probably already knows.”

They wound their way through the isles, heading towards the back of the shop to meet up with everyone else. When they walked up, Harry saw Ron look at them suspiciously, but he ignored him.

Meanwhile, just as Hermione predicted, Lupin withdrew a letter from within his pocket and read aloud all of the books they needed. The store clerk looked momentarily surprised that they were already purchasing school books, when he had only received the orders two days prior. However, he must have pushed the oddity aside as he scurried around the room, collecting all of their books in his arms, walking back with piles stacked precariously in his arms, teetering as if about to fall. Harry, who began to feel even guiltier of his newly acquired wealth, decided right as the store clerk read the total aloud that he wasn't going to allow his friends to pay for everything themselves; today, no matter how much they protested, he was going to buy each of them a gift.

As Neville dug into his pant pockets for enough Galleons, Harry came up to Lupin and muttered, “Here- pay for Neville's books, will you? Say that it's money his Gran left him.” He then slipped Lupin a handful of Galleons while Lupin began to open his mouth, and Harry turned and walked away. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Lupin smiling proudly at him, before he turned to Neville and handed him the money; Harry felt his spirits soar as Neville, who had apparently forgotten to bring enough money as it was, smiled gratefully at Lupin and paid the store clerk.

A few minutes later they headed out of the store, cloth bags full of books. Although it was already 10:00 in the morning, Diagon Alley was still basically deserted, and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle slightly.

“Where to next?” Tonks asked.

“We still need to restock our potion supplies,” Ron said.

“And I still need to pick out a cat,” Ginny said.

“And I still want to take a look at Quality Quidditch Supplies,” said Harry, staring longingly down the street at the shop window.

“Alright,” Lupin said. “Let's head to buy the potions supplies first, then we can go around looking at the other shops you would all like.”

The group traveled down the street, re-stocking their potion sets in the apothecary. Once that was complete, they moved on to Quality Quidditch Supplies, the store Harry was most looking forward to entering. In the store window, a new broom sat on display, lights illuminating it. Harry had never seen a more amazing broom in his entire life; even his Firebolt didn't match this. It's sleek, rich mahogany handle, perfectly stream-lined, led to a tail so perfectly trimmed it was unbelievable. Not only was every twig hand-cut to produce the finest angles possible, it had a sealant charm placed over it that gave it the ability to slice through the air like a swift sword. Ron came and pressed his hands and face against the glass, staring at the broom in longing awe, while Harry read the label aloud.

“The finest broom ever made- the Flash makes even the Firebolt seem outdated. With precision balance and turning, the rider could be zooming straight towards the ground, at over 100 mph, get within an inch of crashing, and halt in one tenth of a second. A concealment charm on the tail, which acts as an impermeable coat, adds super aerodynamic and speed capabilities. Out-fly all of your opponents, with an acceleration speed of 175 mph in under 8 seconds. This broom comes with a built-in navigational system as well; just speak your destination and the broom will point you in the right direction, and alert you when you arrive. Price On Request.”

It was just like with his Firebolt: price on request. Harry did not even want to think about how much money that cost. Besides, his Firebolt was more than excellent as it was, and Sirius got him that broom; whether he was willing to admit it or not, the broom was sentimental to him. Not to mention the fact that he did not want to run out of money, in only his 6^th year at Hogwarts….wait, that wasn't a problem anymore; it never would be. He glanced to his side, where Ron was still goggling at the broom, and made up his mind.

“I'm just curious how much it costs,” he said, swinging open the door. “You guys can stay out here; I'll be right back out.”

A bell on the door rattled as Harry shut the door behind him, and the store salesman came bustling out from behind the back room.

“Yes,” he asked, glasses perched on the end on his nose as he approached Harry. “How may I help you, young man?”

“How much is that broom?” Harry asked, pointing towards the shop window.

“Why, I'm afraid it's a tad bit out of your price range, lad. The Flash broom is the best to ever hit the market; there are only 50 in existence, since it takes so long to make them and such.”

Harry gulped as he imagined how much money that meant, but all the same reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his money bag, dumping most of its contents onto the store counter. The store clerk's eyes shot open, as he looked astounded from the money up to Harry and said, “Right, then. That would be 515 Galleons.”

Wow. Harry considered changing his mind; that was an awful lot of money. The most expensive thing Harry had ever purchased for Ron or Hermione was 10 Galleons, and he had said that the Omnoculars served as 4 years worth of Christmas and Birthday gifts. He was just backing down from his decision, when he glanced outside the window again, where Ron was still staring longingly at the broom, eyes drinking in every inch of it. At that moment, Harry made up his mind; Ron was his best friend, and he more than deserved every penny spent on this broom.

“I'll take it!” he exclaimed, shoving the pile of Galleons towards the store clerk, as the man beamed with joy.

Harry purchased the broom, paying an extra Galleon to have Ron's name engraved in gold filigree on the handle. He then had the store clerk wrap it up in gift wrap and headed back outside, as the man showed him to the door.

“Have a good day, Mr. Potter, sir!” he exclaimed, bowing as Harry turned and waved at him.

Hermione was the first one to see him exit, and she came running up to him while the others stood around, looking in nearby shop windows and talking.

“Harry!” she called out. Then she saw the package he was carrying. “Oh, my. Is that what I think it is?”

“If you're thinking a broom, then yes,” Harry said.

“But you hardly need another broom,” she said.

“I know. It's not for me. It's a gift for Ron,” he said, moving around her and walking up to where Ron still stood, idolizing the Flash.

As he walked up to him, Harry called out, “Hey! Ron!”

Ron refused to tear his eyes off the broom on display in the window.

“Yes?” he asked, never glancing at Harry.

“What are you doing goggling at that broom?” Harry asked.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? Didn't you see it Harry? It's the best broom ever! I'm sorry mate, but this thing even outdoes yours.”

“Wouldn't you rather hold it?” Harry asked, as Ron continued to stare in the window.

“Well, of course I would. But are you completely mad Harry? I can barely afford to look at this thing.”

Harry walked around behind Ron, so his reflection showed in the window.

“What if I told you that you not only could afford it, but you owned it?”

Ron said, “Then I'd say you'd gone completely mental-” He caught sight of its reflection in the window and he turned around abruptly on his heel. “Bloody hell!” he said, as Harry handed the broom over to him, grinning.

Ron ripped the paper off of it, holding it out in front of him, as carefully as if he was holding a baby. He examined every inch of it, until his eyes fell across his name engraved in the handle and he said, “You mean this is really mine?”

“No, sorry, it's my other best friend Ron Weasley's,” Harry joked.

“I- I don't deserve this Harry,” Ron said, looking up from the broom towards Harry, as Hermione came slowly walking over.

“Of course you do,” Harry said. “And don't try to argue about it, or try to change my mind, because I've already made it up, and it's yours. It's about time you let me give you something nicer than a bag of Bertie Bott's Beans.”

Ron closed his mouth silently, then burst into a great grin and pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, holding the broom out in his other hand.

“Thanks, Harry mate!” he said.

“Don't mention it,” Harry said, grinning, as Ron turned to show it to Hermione.

The next 10 minutes were spent by everyone from Ginny to Dedalus examining Ron's new broom, while he explained its features over and over again. However, Harry noticed that since Hermione had already seen it, she had wandered off down the street a ways, glancing in another shop's window. The sign above the door read “Jasper's Jewelry.” Harry found this a bit odd since Hermione usually wasn't into that kind of stuff; at least not that he knew. Maybe she had changed a bit since he last saw her; she was, after all, almost 16. Harry left Ron and the rest of the broom's admirers, and strolled casually down the street, hands in his pockets.

When he came up to Hermione she looked up from the window, apparently startled to find him so close.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, “You scared me a bit.”

“Sorry,” he said. Then he looked in the window to see what she had been looking at. Placed all along the display shelf were velvety boxes containing earrings, rings, and necklaces. Each piece of jewelry was comprised of either silver or gold, as far as Harry could tell, and some precious gem.

“What were you looking at?” Harry asked, nonchalantly.

“Oh, nothing,” Hermione said, turning away from the window and beginning to wander across the street. “I was just looking for something to possibly send home to my mum.”

Harry found this statement rather odd, but he went along with it; he could tell Hermione was interested in some of the jewelry, but apparently she didn't want to tell him which piece.

He caught up with her until they were walking side-by-side, back down the street towards the Advance Guard.

“How long did you spend at your home this summer?” Harry asked, kicking a stone with his foot.

“Only about a month; I wasn't at Grimmauld Place for more than a week before you arrived. Neville and Ms. Longbottom came at about the same time I did as well.”

“Do you ever miss them?” Harry asked.

“Who? My parents? No, not really. I see them over break and stuff, and they understand that I have to focus on school and the only way I can study magic is by leaving them every year.” She looked up at Harry inquisitively. “Why do you ask?”

“I'm just curious,” Harry said, which was the truth. “You hardly ever talk about your parents. I'd like to know more about them, and what you do when you're back with the muggles.”

They met up with the other group and Hermione said, “That would be nice,” before Lupin spoke.

“Let's move on, shall we? Only the Magical Menagerie left to go.”

Ginny began bouncing on her toes with excitement, as they all made their way towards the store. On the way, they passed the jewelry store again, and Harry looked in the window before squeezing his way through the group to talk to Lupin quietly.

“What's up?” Lupin asked, after Harry fell into step next to him.

“I was just wondering… if you could possibly help me with something?”

“Sure, anything,” Lupin said. “Why, what is it?”

Harry whispered something in his ear, as they continued to walk.

“Ah, I see,” Lupin said. Harry handed him a couple of Galleons left in his money bag and Lupin passed them over to Tonks, telling her quietly to spend them on Ginny's cat. Then, when everyone began filing into the pet store, Lupin said, “Harry and I will wait out here.”

No one paid them much mind; they were all too busy pointing out all of the pets Ginny could buy.

Lupin nodded at Harry and they turned, heading back down the street.

“You're going to buy her jewelry?” Lupin asked, as they walked back towards the jewelry store.

“I know it sounds odd,” Harry began, awkwardly, “But, I saw her looking in the window at something, and I can't think of anything else to get her that's good enough. After all, I got Ron that broom; the least I could do is get Hermione something she wants as well; she's one of my best friends. The thing is she wouldn't tell me what she was looking at.”

“Well, she probably didn't want to seem like she was giving you any hints,” Lupin said thoughtfully. “Hermione doesn't seem like the type of girl who will just come out and say she wants you to buy her something, especially something like this.”

“See, that's where she's wrong,” Harry said, as they entered the shop. “Giving hints about these sorts of things is exactly the kind of help I need.”

Lupin laughed as they looked around the room. Display cases were erected all over the floor, exhibiting wonderful jewels of all shapes, colors, and sizes. A short, elderly lady stood hunched over behind the main counter, an examining glass to her eye as she bent over some type of stone. When Harry and Lupin came in she yelled, “One moment please!” Lupin began wandering around the store, glancing at all of the pieces of jewelry scattered around the store. However, Harry ignored every display case except for the one in the window; he was sure that he would find something there that Hermione would like. Once the lady put her mini-magnifying glass down, she walked up to Harry.

“Hello, my name is Kathy Jasper. Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand for Harry to shake. “And you are?”

“Harry Potter,” he said, shaking the woman's hand. When he told her his name, he saw her eyes dart up to his forehead, glancing at his scar. He didn't really like people gawking at his scar all the time, so he turned and walked over to the display case in the window.

“I'm interested in a piece of jewelry in here,” he said, pointing at the case.

“And may I ask who you are purchasing this jewelry for?” Kathy asked. “It helps me to help my clients pick out the perfect piece.”

“I'm buying it for my best friend,” Harry said. He scanned all of the jewelry inside, trying to determine which Hermione would like best. Then he saw it. Lying in the center of the case, on a blue velvet blanket, was the most beautiful necklace he had ever seen. It had a silver chain with sparkling diamonds that shone in every color gathered in two rows of three, around the center jewel. At the center, a tear-shaped emerald hung, glinting in the light. He thought it was perfect; he was pretty sure that it wasn't too fancy, since there were about six small, circular diamonds and only one larger gem. For some reason, he thought that this was the piece she had been looking at; he wasn't sure what made him think about it, but as soon as he saw it he somehow knew.

“I'll take that one,” Harry said happily, pointing at the necklace.

The lady waddled up beside him and said, “Oh, my. That, Mr. Potter, is Esmeralda. It is one of the most precious pieces I own. Perhaps, your friend would prefer something a little less expensive…” She began to move over to another case.

“No,” Harry said. “I want this one.”

Kathy looked hesitant for a moment, as if not sure that Harry knew how much it would cost, or how exquisite it truly was. But then, looking at Harry standing defiantly, she smiled sweetly and said, “Great choice. Whoever she is, she'll love it.”

Lupin came over to see what he chose, and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

“That's a really beautiful necklace, Harry. I'm sure she'll love it.”

“I hope so,” Harry said.

Kathy wrapped it up nicely in a blue velvet case, before turning it over to Harry. He paid her 203 Galleons for it, which even he thought was a rather steep price for jewelry. Then she showed them to the door, saying, “Make sure she takes care of Esmeralda, Mr. Potter!”

“I will, thanks,” he said, as he pocketed the case. He determined that it would be best to give it to her later, when everyone else wasn't around. For some reason, he was slightly nervous to give it to her; he wasn't quite sure how she would react. After all, he had never bought anything like this for a girl, whether she was his friend or not.

When he and Lupin came up to the Magical Menagerie, they found Ginny and everyone else just exiting it.

“Look, Harry!” she said, coming up to him. In her arms sat a white, fluffy cat, with pale blue eyes. Unlike Crookshanks, this cat seemed rather mellow. When it turned its head towards Harry, he had the strange feeling that he had seen this cat before, but he couldn't put his finger on where.

“Neat, Ginny,” he said, smiling as she pet the purring cat happily. “What's its name?”

“It's a boy, and his name is Snowbell. I named him. The name seemed to fit, since he's pure white. And apparently, he likes it. Don't you, Snowbell?”

The cat purred as it continued to gaze with those pale blue eyes towards Harry. Harry shivered slightly; it was almost as if the cat was analyzing him.

Mrs. Weasley said, starting off again, “Well, there's nothing more to do here. Let's head off home.”

Everyone followed her, back to the Leaky Cauldron entrance. There, Kingsley and Mr. Weasley met up with them. As Moody had promised they all took a lunch break and stopped for some drinks and sandwiches. Tom waited on them happily, telling anyone who would listen all about the drinks he was trying to invent. When everyone had their fill, the group took off again, back into muggle London. Even though their group was quite large, Harry noticed that all of the muggles just kept walking past them, as if they hadn't seen them come out of the seemingly abandoned building. The entire train ride home, Harry sat in silence, jerking about with the train, with his hand in his pocket, fiddling with the jewelry case. Hermione and Ginny spent their time doting over Snowbell, who Harry avoided; every time he glanced over at the cat, he swore that it was staring back at him, like it was always watching. Once off the train, the Advance Guard members seemed anxious to get back to Headquarters, so they took a brisk pace down the winding streets back. When they reached the spot that should have housed the mansion, Harry, along with everyone else standing with him, closed his eyes and imagined the house there, thinking of the phrase that made it appear. Harry opened his eyes, and watched as the house magically expanded from a simple door to a huge mansion, shoving the houses on either side of it out of the way.

“Come on, then,” Lupin said, leading the way inside. “Hurry up.”

* * *

That afternoon, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville all sat in Harry and Ron's bedroom, lazily. Harry loaned Ron the Broom Maintenance Kit that Hermione had previously bought him, so that Ron could dote over his new broom. Ginny and Neville sat playing with Crookshanks, who Hermione brought over from her room so that he could meet Snowbell, and Ginny's new cat. Hermione, meanwhile, lay on Harry's bed, reading over the beginning of one of their new school books, “Practical Defense: A Guide to Every Defensive Spell in Existence,” by Harold Taylor. After a while of looking over Ron's Flash, Harry grew tired of it. He felt like he just needed to be alone, to escape and think through some things for a bit; last night he had had the same terrible nightmare that never ceased to haunt him his entire summer. He woke up shaking and sweating, Bellatrix Lestrange's cackling face engraved on his eyeballs. It had taken him an hour to get back to sleep, and before he finally managed to calm himself back down, he had to get up and talk to Hedwig, perched in her cage on top of the wardrobe.

Presently, Harry stood and strolled towards the door. Before he managed to escape, Ron noticed him leaving. “Where are you going?” Ron asked curiously.

“I'm just going to wander around the house for a bit,” Harry replied, slipping out the door. He wandered down the hall, and began to head downstairs. However, then he heard Mrs. Weasley and Tonks talking, and since he wanted to be alone, changed direction and headed upstairs instead. On the top floor, the hallway was even darker than the rest of the house, and Harry had to pull out his wand in order to see a few inches in front of him.

“Lumos,” he whispered, as light flared out of his wand's tip. All along the hall, the walls were lined with dead house-elves heads, hanging on plaques. Harry had forgotten all about the creepy things; Mrs. Weasley must have moved them up here somehow. He crept down the hall, holding his wand out in front of him as he grimaced at all of the unpleasant faces Sirius' great-grandmother had begun hanging. Then, as he reached the end of the hall, what he saw almost made him drop his wand. A burst of anger shot through him, accompanied with certain malice. Kreacher's head hung, chopped of, up on a plaque of its own. His ugly face was twisted into a dropping smile, his eyelids closed over his hideous eyes. Harry hadn't even thought about Kreacher since he arrived; he had been too busy thinking about other things. Yet, here, the dead house elf hung. As Harry stared at the disgusting little thing, that insulted him and Sirius, that lied to him and who contributed to Sirius's death, he suddenly felt a cruel satisfaction. At least Kreacher would never serve as a problem to the Order again.

Tearing himself away from the Kreacher's dead face, he went through the door at the end of the hall. Inside, Harry looked disgusted at the floor. All around him, dead rat and bird skeletons lay, flesh torn off of them. White sheets covered the small amounts of furniture in the room. Harry crept around, taking care not to crunch any of the skeletons, and lit two of the oil lamps he found. “Incendio,” he said, pointing his wand at the lamps, causing them both to light. Once lit, the lamps provided just enough dim light for him to see properly around the room without his wand. A rustling noise alerted him, and he whipped around on his heels in order to face the big mass that was moving towards him. Harry kept eye contact with the beast, bowing, before the Hippogriff bowed back.

Harry smiled as he slowly approached Buckbeak. “Hey, Buckbeak,” he said soothingly, stroking its neck. “It's been a while.”

Buckbeak nuzzled Harry's hand. For a while Harry just stood, petting Buckbeak, thinking through some things. Then the filthy condition of the room got to him.

Harry looked disgusted at the floor. “Let's clean this place up a bit,” he said.

He gathered a garbage bag from a room down the hall and summoned all of the skeletons and bits of animal remains into the bag. He then cleaned the entire floor, so that the putrid stench of rotted flesh vanished. After he was finished, he sat back against the wall, Buckbeak lying down beside him. Just as he was beginning to doze off, there was a soft knock at the door, as it creaked slowly open, and Hermione crept in.

“Harry?” she asked, closing the door softly behind her. “I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing up here?”

Harry looked up at her, as she stood with the lamp light flickering gently across her face. “Nothing,” he said, “Just tending to Buckbeak.”

She came and sat right next to him. “You've missed dinner.”

“That's alright,” he sighed, “I'm not really hungry.”

“Well, I've saved you something, just in case,” she said sweetly, pulling a warm roll wrapped in a cloth napkin out of her sweater pocket.

Harry smiled at her; he was a little hungry. “Thanks,” he said, taking the roll. “Want to split it?” he added, ripping it in half.

“Sure,” said Hermione, taking a bite out of her half.

For a while they just sat silently in the dim room, eating their rolls. Harry always liked that about Hermione- how he could just sit quietly with her and feel completely comfortable. Most of the time, he didn't even have to say anything in order for her to understand what he was feeling. He was still worrying about the trial he had later on, and what the outcome of it would be; he had been almost the entire time he had been sitting there alone with Buckbeak.

Almost as if she read his mind, Hermione suddenly said, consolingly, “I know you're worried about your trial this Monday, Harry- don't be. You'll do fine; everything will turn out alright.

Harry smiled softly towards the ground, then raised his head and looked at Hermione, who was looking comfortingly at him. “Thanks,” he said.

He put his hand in his pocket, pulling out the jewelry box. Keeping it hidden by his side, he sat up on his knees, facing Hermione. She looked at him questioningly.

Then, he pulled it out from behind him, handing it over to her. She took it in her hand as she looked at it surprised and asked, “What is this?”

“It's just a gift for you,” Harry said, slightly nervously. “I saw you looking at the jewelry earlier, in Diagon Alley, and when I saw this, I don't know- I just thought it was perfect for you.”

Hermione snapped open the box and gasped. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed gently. She held it out in front of her, so that the jewels shimmered in the light. “Harry,” she stammered, “It-it's gorgeous!”

Harry smiled at her joyous expression, relaxing a bit. “You like it then?”

She looked at him as if he was crazy. “Of course I do!” she cried. “It's beautiful! I can't believe you got this for me.”

She lifted it out of its case, pulling back her hair so that she could put it on. He saw her struggle slightly and offered, “Here, let me help.” She held her hair off to the side, leaning her head forward so that Harry could fasten it behind her. “There,” he said, as she dropped her curls again and he came back in front of her in order to see how it looked on her. Harry felt a sudden lump rise in his throat as he looked at her, astounded. Esmeralda looked absolutely stunning on her.

Harry suddenly found himself sweating a bit again, tripping over his tongue as he stared at her. “You- I mean it- it looks great, Hermione,” he stammered.

She beamed at him and then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He found himself thinking how she smelled like fresh sheets and sweet flowers, as he hugged her back.

“Thanks, Harry,” she whispered. “I love it.”

* * *

Harry and Hermione stayed up talking late into the night. By and by, Harry's eyelids began to feel like there were weights set upon them and Hermione's head began to droop, so they put out the lights and headed back downstairs. Tiptoeing down the hall, careful not to disturb anyone, they both went their separate ways into their bedrooms, across the hall from one another.

“Goodnight,” Hermione whispered, creaking open her bedroom door silently so as to avoid waking Ginny up.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, as he watched her disappear behind the closed door. In his own room, Harry found Ron already snoring, drooling on his pillow as he lay sprawled messily on his stomach. He sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling off his shoes and shirt, and placing his glasses on the bedside table. Harry then crawled under the covers and lay on his back, staring up at the dark bed canopy above him. Although his tired body longed to fall asleep, his mind was still churning. For an hour he lay there, in a befuddled state. His thoughts kept bringing him back to Hermione; he couldn't get her face or voice out of his head. No matter what he attempted to distract his mind with, he always found himself thinking about how amazing she looked, with the necklace on; how nice she was to bring him dinner; how comforting and understanding she was while he worried about the trial. Eventually, those uncommon thoughts lulled him to sleep.

That night, Harry finally managed to fall asleep, after much reflection. He had determined that it was best just to ignore it; he forced himself to believe it was all a trick-of-the-mind- that he was too tired to think straight. However, the next morning, when he went down to breakfast and found Hermione already there, talking to Neville and Bill, he felt light butterflies in his stomach and felt momentarily weightless.

“Stop being so stupid,” he thought, frustrated, to himself as he joined them for breakfast.

Only substantiating his decision even more, Ron trudged in a few minutes later and as soon as he sat down asked, scowling, “Where were you two last night? I waited up until 12 o'clock, but you never came back.” He glared suspiciously at Harry and Hermione.

Hermione said, rolling her eyes, “We were just talking upstairs, Ron.”

Harry added, “Yeah, we were. Sorry that you waited up.”

Ron, who had still been frowning at them distrustfully, relaxed and said, “Alright,” and began eating his breakfast as if nothing happened.

* * *

The entire day, all Harry could think about was the trial, which momentarily pushed Hermione out of his mind's eye. He dreaded facing Percy and what his ultimate decision would be. Of course, Lupin and Mr. Weasley would be there too, as they had indeed attacked ministry officials. Harry wished that Percy was not in such a biased position. As the day came and went, and the sun disappeared down below the horizon, Harry began to feel steadily more and more nervous, almost as if something very large was in his stomach and was fighting to get out.

That night, during dinner, Bill suddenly came bursting into the room, waving a muggle newspaper in one hand and the Daily Prophet in the other.

“You won't believe this!” he exclaimed, throwing the papers down onto the dining table as Harry and Mr. Weasley deftly snatched their plates out of the way. Bill began by spreading the muggle newspaper out, bending over it as Lupin and Kingsley sprang abruptly from their chairs and scooted around the table to look over Bill's shoulder. “Look,” he said, pointing fervently at the front page heading.

Harry read the title out loud, growing more alarmed with every word he spoke. “Train Explosion- Kills 30, Injures 42 Others.”

He scanned the article quickly, completely mortified. Bill announced ardently, “It says the mysterious explosion took place yesterday afternoon, on the 1:15 train heading out of London. The authorities haven't been able to determine the exact cause.”

Mr. Weasley looked up from the article, alarmed. “This happened on the train right after ours. Remember? We just managed to catch the 1:00 train on our way back here!”

“Exactly,” Bill said, pulling out the Daily Prophet and laying it crookedly over the other paper. “And it gets worse.”

Harry looked shocked at the article before him. On the front page of the Daily Prophet, complete with a moving picture of people cleaning up the area where the train exploded, was the bold title: “Muggle Train Attack- Believed to be the Work of the Recently-Escaped Death Eaters.”

“You mean…” Harry began, completely dumbfounded by the article.

“They probably meant to attack us,” Lupin said, “But then we managed to get on the other train and they somehow never knew.”

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. All of those innocent people- dead. Not to mention the fact that the Death Eaters were still hot on his trail; since they had escaped they seemed to have stalked him relentlessly. He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head slowly back and forth. “This can't be happening,” he moaned.

Nobody said anything. There were no words of comfort strong enough to obscure the horror of it all. Harry excused himself from dinner as everyone sat around the table in meaningful reflection. He stumbled upstairs and after closing his bedroom door behind him, slumped to the floor in front of it. Knocking his head back against the door, Harry sat hugging his legs tight up against him. As bad as things were already going this year, he knew they were only going to get worse. Without warning, someone pushed at the door from the other side, trying to push it open, but Harry dug his feet into the ground and pushed back against it so that it wouldn't open.

He heard someone's muffled voice coming from the other side of the door as the handle rattled. “Come on, Harry,” Hermione pleaded, “Stop being stupid and let me in.”

He sighed and reluctantly rolled over to the side as she came in. She watched him lie pitifully on the ground and strode over, grabbing his arm and hoisting him to his feet. Harry collapsed onto Ron's bed behind him and said, depressed, “It's all my fault.”

She kneeled in front of him, hands on his knees and looked straight into his eyes.

“You know perfectly well it's not,” she said disapprovingly. He turned his cheek to her, avoiding her eye contact but she huffed, “Look at me.” He swung his head back around to face her. “The last thing you need is to begin blaming yourself for everything that happens. It isn't your fault in the slightest what those horrid Death Eaters do. Listen, I know just as well as you do that this is going to be a rough year, but that's all the more reason not to allow these things to get to you.”

“I know,” he said dimly. She smiled at him and said, “Now that's better,” as she rose. “Now get some sleep, and stop worrying so much. I probably won't see you tomorrow morning, so good luck with the trial.”

Harry watched her head out of the room, and just as she was closing the door said, “Hermione- thanks.”

She smiled at him again before closing the door.

-->

Chapter 12- The Trial

Harry tossed and turned all night. By the time morning arrived, he had barely managed to get in half an hour of sleep. Mr. Weasley interrupted his dreamless sleep, shaking him slightly as he said, “Time to get up and around now.”

While getting dressed, Harry took special care to dress nicely, in a black suit, white oxford shirt, and tie. Although he spent many minutes in front of the mirror, trying pointlessly to flatten down his wild hair, it just kept sticking back up again, as usual. He refused to eat his oatmeal; he was too queasy. Instead, he just picked at it, stirring it with his spoon while Mr. Weasley along with Kingsley, who had spent the night, both prepared for leaving. Halfway through breakfast, Lupin wandered in, but like Harry didn't eat anything. Since it was too risky to take a muggle train again, Kingsley had managed to arrange for a Ministry car to pick them up somewhere just inside London. As they all set off, Mrs. Weasley came and tried to flatten Harry's hair again, but he shrugged her off, and then she handed him a sack lunch accompanied with a swift hug before scooting him out the door. It was only 5:00 in the morning when they set off from Grimmauld Place, and nobody cared to say much. After walking quite a ways, past the train station even, they approached an upscale area of London, lined with shops and town homes. Beside the curb, a black Mercedes Ministry Car was parked, waiting for them. As a special precaution, Kingsley had requested there not to be a driver, in case the fellow was untrustworthy or somehow caught on to where they came from. Kingsley withdrew his wand from within his long black coat, pointing it at the lock and muttering a spell under his breath to unlock it. He then hopped in the driver's seat, while Mr. Weasley sat beside him in the front and Lupin and Harry hopped in the back. The entire ride, Harry just sat in a sort of trance, watching the city pass by. Whenever he chanced a glance at Lupin, he seemed to be doing the same thing. He couldn't focus on anything either than what could go wrong, and the growing knot in his upset stomach.

Once they reached the Ministry of Magic visitor's entrance, which gave Harry the chills just looking at it, they parked their car along the edge of the curb between two lines that read “NO PARKING- FIRE ZONE. WILL BE TOWED.” They all traveled across the road to the broken-down telephone booth. Once they were all jammed inside and had the necessary name-tags pinned on, Harry looked over his shoulder and was surprised to find that the Ministry car had vanished.

“What happened to the car?” he asked, as the telephone booth shuddered to a start and began to descend into the ground.

Kingsley answered him impassively, “That area we parked in was the car return. I hope you didn't leave anything you need in there, but if you did then we can always retrieve it later in the Ministry's Lost and Found.”

“No, I brought everything with me,” Harry said.

After a few seconds of complete darkness, light began to stream through at the bottom of the booth, eventually flooding its entirety as the booth landed in the Ministry of Magic lobby, and the door popped open. All four filed out of the booth and, after Harry and Lupin had theirs wands checked, headed over towards the elevators. While they approached the elevators, Harry looked around and noticed that the Fountain of Magical Brethren was intact again, so he ran over to it and poured in almost all of his money from his money bag; somehow, he felt he owed it a debt of gratitude for helping to save his life, even if it was enchanted by Dumbledore. The rest of them waited for him by the elevators, until he returned. Harry kept looking back over his shoulder at the fountain.

“Come on, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, as the elevator landed and opened, allowing the group waiting around it to begin stampeding in. Kingsley pushed his way through the crowd, Harry, Lupin and Mr. Weasley all following in his wake, until they were all crammed into the elevator and it began to rise. Inside, Harry noticed a whole strew of people. One man held what appeared to be part duck, part monkey in his arms, as the beast tried to wriggle free from his grasp. Another lady had boils covering her face and was quietly moaning in agony; he wondered who had cursed her. Then, as the elevator reached the 5th floor, a tall, slender man shoved his way through the elevator crowd saying, “Excuse me. Pardon me. Make way.”

The man had dirty blonde hair cut short and messy, light blue eyes, and bore a smile so large it seemed to stretch across his entire face yet somehow it still looked natural. He pushed his way through, stopping directly next to Harry; it was then that Harry noticed the man was not too much taller than him; he couldn't have been older than Charlie or Bill Weasley.

The man smiled jovially at Kingsley and crooned, “Good morning. I'm surprised to see you up and about so early.”

Kingsley smiled back at the man and said, “Hello, Geoff. I had special matters to attend to today.”

“Ah,” Geoff said. “And what might those matters be, if it's my place at all.”

“I'm just showing Harry here around is all,” Kingsley boomed.

At those words, Geoff suddenly looked at Harry as if he hadn't noticed him standing there at all and said happily, “So, we finally meet, Harry.” He held out a hand for Harry to shake and Harry took it. “I must admit, I've been keen to meet you, though I wasn't expecting to find you here. How are you doing?”

“I'm fine,” Harry said, slightly taken aback by such a normal question. It was weird; although he had only met Geoff a few seconds ago, he had already taken to him. Maybe it was because Geoff had yet to gawk at his scar or treat him differently; he had just greeted him as normal.

“Good to hear it,” Geoff said, releasing Harry's hand. “I'm Geoff by the way, in case you didn't just hear. Geoff Everhurst.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said, smiling. Though he failed to realize it, all of his nervousness about the trial had momentarily vanished.

The elevator jerked to a halt, doors clanking open as the last people present streamed out, down the halls of the 2^nd Floor. However, Harry noticed two stragglers standing in their own corners silently, with sullen faces and dead eyes with heavy bags under them; he instantly recognized them as Unspeakables. He watched them disappear into the depths of the Ministry of Magic basement over his shoulder, unable to tear his eyes off of them until they were completely concealed from view. Even though Voldemort no longer forced him to dwell upon the Department of Mysteries, his curiosity often still took a hold of him so that he settled on fruitless daydreams of the inexplicable department. When he wasn't replaying the image of the Veil room over and over again in his mind, he was attempting to decipher what some of the oddities he had encountered there were. What were those creepy brain things that drove Ron crazy? What other prophecies resided deep within the department's bowels? And most of all, what was the powerful force contained in the locked room, which he apparently held in such vast quantities? These questions circled around his head, until he bumped headfirst into a wall, as the hallway veered off to the right.

“Whoa there,” Geoff chuckled, following closely behind Harry as he continued embarrassedly down the hall. “Are you alright?”

Harry felt his cheeks burn as his head throbbed dully and he mumbled, “Yeah-fine.”

“Thinking about something?” Geoff asked perceptively. Harry glanced back over his shoulder, where he saw Geoff looking at him sincerely, awaiting a reply; at least Geoff was not making fun of him.

He turned his head back around again, taking care to pay attention to where he was walking this time, and answered, “Yeah, I was.”

Geoff clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, as he walked past him, “Happens to me all the time; they should have some flashing lights there or something, warning you about the upcoming wall.”

Harry laughed as Geoff winked at him and continued on, catching up to Kingsley. Right then and there, Harry determined to himself that he liked Geoff, whoever he was.

They all turned into the large room that housed numerous cubicles filled with busy Aurors, hard at work. The room was in complete disarray; plastered all over the walls were posters showing the Death Eater's gloomy faces, frowning and cackling at Harry as he approached them. He stared at the posters with revulsion; right at the top of the page was Bellatrix Lestrange's wicked face grimacing at him, and he was having difficulties restraining himself from lunging right at the posters and ripping them all into shreds.

“I'll see you all later,” Mr. Weasley said, continuing through the Aurors' office and into his own. “I've got to sort through some files. Last week, someone enchanted a water-fountain in Central London to spew fire whiskey; it gave the muggles quite a fright to see fire pouring out from the thing. We're still trying to catch who did it.”

“I'm going to go with Arthur,” Lupin said, as he followed Mr. Weasley. “I'll see you all in a while.”

“Come over here, and take a seat,” Kingsley said, motioning to a chair shoved against his cluttered cubicle, covered in papers.

Harry did as he was told, setting the stack of papers on the ground next to him. Meanwhile, Kingsley set to work, filling out paper work on his desk and Geoff leaned against the cubicle, talking to Harry.

“So, what brings you here?” he asked conversationally.

“I sort of have a little issue to attend to; I have to go to trial,” Harry said, frowning.

“Ah,” Geoff said. “What'd you do- trip passing-by muggles from behind some bushes?”

“No...” Harry said. “Why would you think I had done that?”

“No reason,” Geoff said nonchalantly, whistling towards the ceiling with his hands behind his back.

“Ok...you have some odd ways of entertaining yourself,” Harry smirked.

“Hey,” Geoff said in a mock-defensive tone, “Had. I had some odd ways of entertaining myself.”

Harry laughed as he imagined muggles strolling down the street and suddenly tripping over thin-air.

Just then, a large, beefy man came stomping into the office, glaring. Harry swore the entire room went immediately silent as the man marched in, and he automatically stopped laughing and watched the man approach.

The man clumped up to where Harry and Geoff stood, and Harry gulped as he looked directly up into the man's steely grey eyes.

“Do you have that report for me yet, Everhurst?” the man grunted.

Harry glanced sideways at Geoff, who had beads of sweat collected on his forehead as Geoff said softly, “Um…no, not yet sir. But I can explain-!” he hastened.

The man took another step closer to Geoff, who backed into the cubicle behind him. “I don't like excuses Everhurst. If you don't start proving yourself more competent, then someone else will start showing up, filling your shoes, and no one will ever hear another peep out of your mouth ever again. Do I make myself clear?” he roared, heavy black mustache twitching.

“Yes sir,” Geoff said, looking towards his feet.

“Good,” the man said, smiling a crooked smile that gave Harry the creeps. Then the man suddenly exploded again, shouting through the office, causing Harry to jump a bit. “And I expect the same from the rest of you! We need to catch these Death Eaters, dammit!” He paused to glare around the room, at all of the frightened faces looking back at him. “Well?” he bellowed. “What do you all think you're doing? GET BACK TO WORK!”

There was a sudden rustle of papers as every Auror set back to work straight away, their faces buried in reports.

The man continued on, pounding through to the back of the room where an office resided, and slammed the door shut behind him, rattling the entire room.

Harry looked up at Geoff timidly, who was wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

“Who was that man?” Harry asked.

Geoff smiled a strained smile and said, cheerily again, “Oh, that is Mr. Randolph. He's been a little more uptight than usual lately; there's a lot of pressure on the Auror department right now to catch the Death Eaters and being the head he's kind of cracking under the stress. I can't blame him really.”

Kingsley spoke up, never looking up from what he was writing, “You're too kind Geoff. He was always a livid jerk, even before the Death Eater's escape.”

“Well, I suppose…” Geoff said.

At that moment, another man came bustling forward, and this time Kingsley rose to meet him.

“Did you find anything?” Kingsley asked seriously.

“Nothing,” the bushy-haired man said, red in the face. “No clue he had ever been there at all!”

“Really?” Kingsley asked in an exaggerated tone that Harry caught but the other man seemed to have missed. “I was assured he was there.”

“Well, whatever your source is, you might want to reconsider its legitimacy. I'm growing quite tired of this wild goose-chase; I feel like I'm walking around in a circle, never getting anywhere!” the man bristled before he stormed off again, yanking a curtain over his cubicle's entrance.

Kingsley turned back into his cubicle, muttering so faintly Harry barely caught it, “I wonder why they're having such difficulties finding him.”

“Is he another one looking for Siri-

“Yes, Allen's looking for Black,” Kingsley said hastily, whipping around in his chair and staring at Harry sternly. “Be careful what you say here, Potter,” Kingsley rasped.

Harry nodded his head swiftly as he regretted almost letting his tongue slip; it would sound odd to the casual eavesdropper to hear Harry regard Sirius by his first name.

“I should be getting back to work. Good day sir,” Geoff said, nodding to Kingsley. “See you this evening Harry,” he added. Then, as he walked past Harry he leaned close to him and muttered, “I'm being instated into the Order tonight.”

Harry watched Geoff stroll away, down the hall, with his jaw hanging wide open.

* * *

The rest of the morning, Harry sat talking with Kingsley about the Auror business; he was really interested in the field, so it was a good learning experience. Then, at 9:45 Lupin and Mr. Weasley came out of Mr. Wesley's office and came to collect Harry for their trial. Both of them were ashen-faced, though they were trying to conceal their nerves for Harry's sake, and their arrival made that queasy feeling return in Harry's stomach.

“Good luck,” Kingsley said, as they headed back down the hall, towards the lifts. Harry kept his mouth clamped tight in fear that he would hurl all over the place if he didn't. As the three walked through the empty halls, apart from the occasional purple memo fluttering overhead, Lupin was advising Harry on what to do.

“Just defend yourself, but keep your temper. Remember, you're innocent; if you keep your cool there's no way they can convict you. And when they are dealing with us, stay out of it. Arthur and I can handle our case, and the worst thing that could happen is if you jumped in and got involved.”

Harry nodded his head, as they turned around a corner and found themselves facing a courtroom door. The door had only a tiny slit at the top and had the rusty bronze number 2 nailed to it.

“Ready?” Lupin asked, as Harry straightened his tie.

“Let's just get this over with,” Harry said, as Lupin opened the door and led him through.

Inside, the atmosphere was a tad bit nicer than old courtroom 10's. This room, unlike the other, was a normal square with wooden seats as opposed to stone benches. The head table stood on a platform in the center of the room, with three high-backed chairs behind it. Along the side and back walls rested a continuous U-shaped table, with simple seats set behind it and tiny desk lamp set along every place. Three cold straight-backed wooden chairs, identical to the ones around the table, were already waiting for them, directly in front of the head table. However, the only lights came from the tiny desk lamps, whose shades directed the light down anyway, and a high-hanging lamp in the center of the room. No one awaited them in the room, so they took up their seats.

However, they didn't need to wait long. About a minute after they sat down, a door in the back wall opened and old hunched wizards filed in. Harry watched them all take a seat, sweat gathering on his forehead. A few witches waved cheerily at Mr. Weasley, who nodded his head politely back. Then three people came in, and took their places at the head table. One lady, who Harry recognized as Mrs. Bones, took the seat furthest to the left, smiling at Harry with raised eyebrows silently asking `What are you doing here again?' Harry blushed and looked down at his feet, which were bouncing around with jitters. Then an old witch Harry didn't know took up her place on the right. Her stern stature unnerved Harry even more, as he swiped his forehead with his jacket sleeve. At that time, everyone who was seated stood, scraping their chairs back against the floor, as a shadowed figure stirred behind the center chair. Someone slapped Harry's arm with the back of their hand, and he turned to see Lupin standing beside him, gesturing with his eyes for him to stand. Harry got the message and sprang upwards, bowing his head momentarily to add something a bit extra out of respect. He heard Lupin groan softly beside him and cover his own face with his hand, so he jerked upright again, cheeks burning.

At the front table, the figure standing in shadows moved dramatically forward into the light, and Harry found himself looking into the freckled face he had been dreading. The light reflected off Percy's horn-rimmed glasses, blinding Harry as Percy sat down slowly and majestically and Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes. Once Percy finally sat down, there was another quick commotion as everyone sat back down again and shuffled in their seats to get comfortable. Percy waited until every person completely stopped moving and, holding a stern and serious look that mirrored his prefect days and made Harry want to burst out laughing, began his little speech. Every word was exaggerated.

“Disciplinary hearing of the eleventh of July,” he rang. As he spoke, a quill scratched rapidly on parchment from a young witch with blonde hair at one end of the horse-shoe table. “Regarding offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, the International Statute of Secrecy, and the Cooperative Response to Officiated Ministry Officials Edict by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.” As Percy spoke, Harry felt his chair drag slowly across the floor towards the main desk, leaving Mr. Weasley and Lupin sitting behind him. “Interrogators: Percy Ignatius Weasley, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Gwyneth Leigh Traylor, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Sarah Michelle Wulbrecht.”

Here he paused, peering coldly down at Harry from above. Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh hysterically, punch Percy right in the face, or cower in his presence. Any of them sounded good to him at the moment as long as he could escape that loathing stare. Memories of the letter Percy sent to Ron, telling him to desert Harry, flashed through his mind. He remembered Percy shunning Ron's family, even when his dad was dying in the hospital. That's when he determined to himself what he felt like. He wanted to laugh in Percy's face then deal him one- hard. However, he settled on just returning the coldest look he could muster.

“The charges are as follows,” Percy announced, taking a break from staring at Harry in order to observe the parchment in front of him. “Performing not only one, but multiple charms in the forms of a Patronus, Immobilizing and Stupefy Spell underage and illegally in a muggle-inhabited area while fully aware of your actions and their consequences.”

Murmurs erupted from around the room as Percy mentioned the Patronus charm and Percy steadily grew red in the face until he finally spat, “Yes, we all know he can produce a Patronus- stop fretting over it!”

A few witches gasped but they all clamped their mouths shut just the same. Percy continued on, though slightly disheveled.

“As I was saying…You are Harry James Potter, correct?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“And you willingly performed all three charms in a muggle inhabited area, fully aware of the consequences?”

“Yes,” Harry said. That part was true.

“Even though you had already been taken to trial- only a year ago, I might add- in regards to actions of a similar nature?”

“Yup,” Harry replied. He refused to take Percy too seriously.

“Right,” Percy said, leaning back in his chair and looking at Mrs. Bones and Mrs. Traylor in turn. Then he jerked back forward again, reinitiating the interrogation.

“Let us first address your first offense. You performed a Patronus charm in broad daylight in the middle of a muggle neighborhood, did you not?”

“It was really more evening…” He smiled inwardly as Percy's ears grew red and he screwed up his face.

“Just answer the question!”

“Yes, I did,” he answered. “But only because of the Dementors.”

Murmuring broke out again but this time Percy ignored it. He rolled his eyes and said, “We have no record of any Dementors anywhere near Little Whinging. That story won't work again.”

However, Madam Bones had a different view on the subject.

“How many were there, Mr. Potter?”

Her reaction surprised him but he said, “There were three of them, and when I saw them they were already bent over Mr. Weasley, who was lying on the ground defenseless, and one of them was lowering its hood…so of course there was nothing else I could do.”

“And how did you become aware of their presence?”

“I was looking out my bedroom window when I saw them.”

She nodded her head and sat back. “That settles it then.”

Percy turned on her, flabbergasted. “Wh-what do you- you mean to say you believe this rubbish?”

“Although a part of me wants to deny it, I can't help but notice the sense in his explanation. Consider the date- it was on that very morning that we lost control of the Dementors at Azkaban and the Death Eaters escaped. And when you consider Mr. Potter's history…It only makes sense that he would be targeted.”

Percy stared at her, mouth slightly agape.

“Which was the reason that Misters Weasley and Lupin were present to begin with, I presume?” she boomed.

“Um, that is correct,” Lupin replied from behind Harry.

“We've been over this before, and we have no right to convict Harry if it was performed out of self-defense, as it was.”

Percy looked like he wanted to argue but at the same time recognized that rules were rules and he couldn't break them.

“Of course, I know that,” he began. “So let's continue on to the Petrificus Totalus spell. You have already committed to performing the spell willingly. However, what I feel the Wizengamot must understand is the context in which you used it.”

Harry gulped. Here it came. He wasn't sure how he was going to finagle his way out of this one; he just prayed he had a sympathetic jury making the final decision.

“As the Ministry officials were caught up in a struggle, you attacked one from behind using this spell, with the same wand they were trying to confiscate.”

“No,” he said calmly. “They were trying to destroy it. I couldn't allow them to destroy it when we knew it was for a reason that would later be justified. It was all a big misunderstanding.”

“Still,” Percy continued. “You attacked as a coward, from behind. Not only that, but we have been told that you were not even involved in the struggle until that point, so therefore you must not have been defending yourself and your wand.”

Harry's ears rang as he processed what Percy just said. Percy was calling him a coward?

“Well, I wasn't directly defending myself-“

“Aha!” Percy exclaimed victoriously. “So then you admit to being outside your own personal rights in your actions!”

“No!” Harry cried, realizing how Percy was twisting his words. “You didn't let me finish. I was going to say that although it didn't affect me directly at that point in time, if I hadn't stopped them from attacking Lupin then as soon as he was taken care of, they would have turned on me and then I would have been completely defenseless anyway.” Whoa. Hermione must have invaded his mind momentarily. He amazed himself even more as he continued, “Which would have left me to resort to taking action against them at that point nonetheless.”

Percy looked like a fish out of water. “Well, um, well,” he spluttered. “That doesn't excuse your later actions, with the Stupefy spell! You knocked out another Ministry member with such force that he was knocked back into a wall and was hospitalized for two days before he came-to. What do you have to say in your defense for that?”

Wow. He knew the spell was a little more powerful than originally intended, but now that Percy said it, it sounded even worse. He struggled to find something to say, but was spared the effort as Lupin spoke up again from behind him.

“He didn't do it, I did.”

Harry turned so fast he cricked his neck. What was Lupin doing?

Percy looked at Lupin disbelievingly, cocking his head to the side. “Explain.”

“Well, my wand had been knocked out of my hand when I fell down. I do believe that the ministry official in question thought I was unconscious, but I wasn't. Then I saw Harry's wand lying on the floor near me; he had dropped it earlier. So I grabbed it and turned on the official before he knew what hit him. I had to in order to get Harry to escape with his wand intact.”

Percy narrowed his eyes at Lupin suspiciously, but Lupin held firm.

Then the lady on Percy's right, Mrs. Traylor, spoke up.

“There's only one part of your story that fails to coincide with the official's account.”

“And that is?” Lupin asked calmly, though Harry noticed sweat break across his forehead.

“The official said he saw Mr. Potter appear suddenly in the room, near the fireplace. You have made no mention of Harry's presence. He believes that Mr. Potter was the one who cast the spell.”

“Well, yes, I saw that too. It just didn't involve how I was the one who cast the spell. You see, Harry had returned to the room after he realized his wand was missing and, and…”

“Yes?” Mrs. Traylor encouraged him to continue.

“And, well,” suddenly Harry saw Lupin's eyes light up and he could tell Lupin had devised a story. “The official was bound to automatically think that it was Harry who cast it, since he believed me to be unconscious. And it would register at the Ministry as Harry casting it, since I used his wand. But in reality, I turned on the official so swiftly that it does not surprise me that he didn't realize who cast it.”

Once Lupin wrapped up his story, Harry caught his eye and thanked him wordlessly. Lupin only acknowledged Harry by holding his eye for a quick second, but it was enough.

Harry breathed normally again, certain that Lupin's story worked. However, Percy had a different idea in mind.

“I don't believe him. I believe Potter cast the spell, and for whatever reason Mr. Lupin is taking the blame.”

“Oh, come now,” Madam Bones said. “Mr. Lupin's story makes sense and you can't forget that there are magical protections placed in this room that would detect if he was lying.”

This surprised Harry. If what she said was true, and something told him it was, then how was Lupin's fabrication passing as genuine?

“True,” Percy said, ears turning red again as he realized he revealed his ignorance about something. In order to cover it up, he continued hastily. “Then is there anything left to discuss about Harry? Or have we all reached the inevitable and unanimous decision that he is innocent?”

Silence returned him an answer and so he said with a strained face that told Harry how much pain Percy was in, letting him off, “Right. I, Percy Ignatius Weasley, Minister of Magic, hereby proclaim Harry James Potter clear of all charges.”

Harry felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he grinned as his heart rate slowed. Then his chair was dragged backwards again, and Lupin and Mr. Weasley passed him along the way. His smiled faded and his heart rate increased again. Percy wasn't in the best mood; this was going to be a tense trial.

Percy withdrew another piece of parchment and read off in a ringing voice that had managed to re-obtain its pompous tone, “Disciplinary hearing of the eleventh of July, regarding Misters Remus John Lupin and Arthur Lester Weasley and their flouting the International Statue of Secrecy as well as the Cooperative Response to Officiated Ministry Officials Edict. Unlike Mr. Harry Potter's trial, this will be held regarding the strictness of dealing with non-minor breaches. First- the charges. You are both charged with committing similar crimes, firing numerous spells directly at Ministry officials who were clearly within their own rights being present there. Not only did you knock several of them unconscious, but you had absolutely no right to fire one spell in their direction; their purpose there had nothing to do with either of you, and therefore you are both being charged with interfering with Ministry member's jobs as well. Do either of you have anything to say in your defense?”

Lupin began to talk, but was silenced by Mr. Weasley.

“Yes, I do,” Mr. Weasley said, looking upon Percy with revulsion as he spoke. “We were only protecting Harry's best interests, as every person in the wizarding world should. You are seriously sitting there, trying to defend the Ministry for sending members after Harry to destroy his wand, Percy?”

Percy glared portentously and said, “That's Minister to you.”

Harry could feel heat radiating out from Mr. Weasley. He half expected steam to explode out of his ears, but Mr. Weasley kept control of his temper- for the most part.

“Do you realize what would have happened, what will happen to the entire wizarding community, the entire world if Harry is harmed or set back in any way, Minister?” he hissed, rising from his chair.

So Mr. Weasley was aware of the Prophecy; it then dawned on Harry that most of the Order members probably knew. Thinking about the Prophecy made that familiar weight settle back on his shoulders. However, actually witnessing an Order member standing up for him like this…he didn't give a damn how uncomfortable the Prophecy made him feel at the moment.

“I don't care who he is, given our knowledge we had every right to send officials to his house,” Percy replied, face growing redder than his hair.

“How can you sit there, our leader, and sincerely say that you are willing to have Harry's wand destroyed, impairing his chance to improve and defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?!”

“He is not outside our laws!” Percy exclaimed, though is voice cracked as he said so.

“Our laws don't matter any more!” Mr. Weasley shouted, looking around the room. Harry knew that he wasn't just addressing Percy anymore. “Not when Death Eaters are roaming around breaking every single one of them without penalty! Not when it concerns destroying our only chance of defeating You-Know-Who! NOTHING IS WORTH THAT!”

Several people nodded their heads in agreement and many others gasped at Mr. Weasley's reaction. Percy was completely speechless, for once. It was Madam Bones who spoke next.

“Calm down, Arthur,” she soothed, and Lupin made a half-hearted grab towards Mr. Weasley's arm, as if to restrain him. However, Mr. Weasley ignored Mrs. Bones. He jerked his arm out of Lupin's grasp and marched forward until he was standing directly in front of Percy, who was shifting uneasily in his seat.

“We can't allow anything to happen to Harry,” he said, lowering his volume again. “And you can't let your stupid Ministry rules interfere with that. It's your place to help protect him now as well.”

There was a sudden shift in Percy. Although he was completely ashamed and embarrassed to be put in his place like that, his snobbishness took precedence over it. Percy wasn't about to let his father make a fool out of him in front of everyone. His ego surfaced again as he sneered, “I don't need some foolish man who can't let go of his stupid muggle-pride long enough to make anything of himself tell me how to lead.”

There was another wave of soft gasps and Harry saw that although many looked like they wanted to put Percy back in line, they were afraid of the consequences.

“You may be the Minister of Magic now Percy, but I'm still your father,” Mr. Weasley managed to say through gritted teeth.

Percy snorted. “My loyalty is to the Ministry, as I've already told you. And I don't care who you are- I still have authority over you in this court room. Your little outburst does nothing to help your case. Therefore I will have to act as I see fit. Harry is not outside the law, and neither are you.”

“There's more happening here than you and me, Percy. You can't let it blind you to the truth!” he yelled angrily.

“You interfered when it was not your place to, and unlike Harry, neither of you are minors. You attacked Ministry officials and knocked several unconscious, you destroyed a muggle home, and you did so without any personal rights. I have no choice but to suggest the only sentence I feel justifies the crimes.”

“Percy,” Mr. Weasley pleaded. “Think about what you're doing.”

“Three months each in Azkaban, and to be frank I think that's a little generous giving the circumstances.”

Harry waited for Mr. Weasley to argue- to do anything- but the fight was knocked out of him. Mr. Weasley simply stood, head drooping in front of him, and Lupin sat still in his chair. Realizing what they were being sentenced to, Harry sprang up from his chair, shouting, “That's not fair! They were only protecting my wand from being destroyed for an unjust cause! Surely there's some Good Samaritan Law or something that protects them!”

Lupin whipped around in his chair and fixed his eyes on Harry, and whispered hoarsely. “Harry- keep out of it.”

Percy laughed. “Yes, listen to our old professor here, unless you want to be re-trialed for misbehavior in the court.”

Harry was torn between telling Percy exactly what was on his mind and listening to Lupin. With great effort he restrained himself and plopped submissively down in his seat again.

“Is there anyone present among the Wizengamot who objects to the sentence, after taking into full account the crimes and our laws?” Percy rang out.

Harry appealed to the court members with his eyes, hoping that at least one of them would disagree. However, he felt his hopes plunge down into the bottom of his stomach as nobody spoke up. As a final resort, he tried to catch Madam Bones' eye but she refused to meet his pleading stare.

Percy looked around smugly, realizing he won.

“That settles it then.” He turned his smug face onto his father, who had silent tears streaming down his face. “I hereby sentence you, Arthur-“ here his voice caught slightly, as his face softened noticeably. Apparently he just realized what he was doing. But, being Percy, he couldn't break the rules- not even bend them for his own father who was only doing a good deed. Harry swore he saw a startling resemblance to Barty Crouch Sr. in Percy at that time, and sudden goose-bumps rose on his arms as he noticed it.

Percy recomposed himself and continued. “I hereby sentence you, Arthur Lester Weasley, and you, Remus John Lupin, to three months in Azkaban.” A gavel appeared in his hand and he struck it down on the desk once, powerfully.

The sound of the gavel aroused Mr. Weasley from him stupor, as he twitched. Harry jumped up from his seat and tore across the room to them. Lupin put an arm around Mr. Weasley in order to lend him strength. The members of the Wizengamot all stood and slowly exited the room again, through the door they had entered. Harry silently dared each of them to meet his eye, but they all just left with bowed heads. Percy left last, avoiding Harry's glance, but as he left the room he turned back to look at his father once more, and Harry caught tears on his face. Good. He had better feel bad. Even without the Dementors there, Harry was sure Azkaban would still be a horrible place to live in.

Percy turned his back on them again, turning the corner. As soon as he left, two large guards entered the room, with scowls on their faces and wands ready in their side pockets.

Lupin saw them coming and turned to Harry. “Don't worry too much about us Harry; we'll be fine. Just promise me you will enjoy the rest of your summer.”

Harry nodded his head. “I promise.”

Lupin smiled at him sadly and then said, “Oh. I almost forgot.” He put his hand in his pocket, pulling out a tiny box, and handed it to Harry. “Here. This is for your birthday- sweet sixteen already!”

Harry took it, touched by Lupin's thoughtfulness at such a time. “Thanks,” he said, then did something he had never done before and hugged Lupin.

Lupin held Harry tight against him for a few seconds then held him out in front of him, looking straight in his eyes. “I swear you look more like your father every day. You're growing up to be a great man, Harry. I'm sure your father would be as proud of you as I am.”

Harry felt his heart swell with pride at Lupin's statements. Then the guards reached them and grabbed Lupin and Mr. Weasley's arms, pulling them back across the room, leaving Harry standing alone.

“Apologize to Molly for me!” Mr. Weasley said. “And be careful the rest of this summer; try to stay indoors as much as you can!”

“Alright.”

“Oh, and Harry?” Lupin said back to him, looking over his shoulder as the guard led him through the back door.

“Yeah?” he called back.

“Just head back to Kingsley's office; he'll help get you home.”

Harry wanted to say something else, but he found he couldn't speak past the large lump in his throat, as Mr. Weasley and Lupin were both led through the door and the door slammed closed. He was left standing alone in the center of the room, as a single tear streamed down his cheek and fell to the ground, echoing around the dim room.

A/N: Did you like? Tell me what you did or didn't.

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Chapter 13- Initiation, Celebration, Locomotion

That night Kingsley drove him home in another Ministry car he managed to rent. He attempted to engage Harry in conversation several times, but Harry remained silent. Even when they walked the last few miles, Harry withheld a state of reticence. He had loosened his tie when he left the court room, and was carrying his jacket draped over his arm. He couldn’t forget Mr. Weasley’s expression or the haunting jibes Percy made; he could only imagine how Mr. Weasley felt. Percy- that jerk was the Minister of Magic, and it was a good thing he was, or else Harry would have pounded him so hard he wouldn’t have been recognizable. Percy had managed to jump from number six to number three on Harry’s hate list, and that wasn’t a place anyone wanted to be.

As he walked, he kicked a stone, sending it flying through the air.

“What’s bothering you so much Harry?” Kingsley asked sympathetically.

“Nothing,” he replied moodily, lashing out at another stone.

“It’s not your fault,” Kingsley said softly, causing Harry to freeze mid-step. However, he recovered quickly, continuing on as if nothing happened.

It took them several hours of walking in stiff silence before they reached Grimmauld Place. Harry’s feet ached and he had rolled up his shirt sleeves in an attempt to cool off. Therefore the blast of chilled air that hit him as soon as he stepped over the threshold came as a great relief. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the steps that led up to the upper levels, waiting for him. As soon as Harry came in, they both jumped up to greet him. Hermione looked incredibly nervous and squealed slightly when she saw him, and she scurried up to him quickly, giving him a brief hug. Ron was close behind.

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed. “We were so worried. It took you so long to get back. What happened? Did Percy let you off?”

“Calm down for a second Hermione,” he said, smiling at her sincerity. However, his smiled faded as soon as it appeared, as he saw Ron looking desperately over his shoulder.

“Glad to see Percy didn’t kill you,” Ron joked. “Um, where’s dad?”

Hermione looked towards the door as well, but it didn’t take her long to catch on. She cast her eyes down to the floor, leaving Harry to explain.

“Well, he and Lupin were convicted mate. I’m sorry.”

Ron looked at Harry like he had suddenly grown an extra head or something.

“Oh,” he said so weakly Harry barely caught it. “So they’ll be coming later or something? Or do they have to spend the night at the Ministry or wherever they’re staying.”

Harry shook his head sadly. “They’ll be gone for three months, in Azkaban.”

Ron almost fell to the ground. He backed slowly away from Harry, groping the air behind him until his hands closed around the stair post and he stood their confined in his disbelief, eyes never leaving the door.

“Per-Percy didn’t let them off then?” he stuttered thickly.

“No, he didn’t.” Harry did not know what else to say. He made to move closer to Ron, but Ron just backed up the stairs, away from him.

“I’m just going to go upstairs for a bit. I’ll be fine,” he added, as Harry stopped moving closer to him and let him leave. “Glad to see you back though.” Ron’s grin was so strained that Harry wished he hadn’t smiled at all. Then Ron disappeared up the stairs without another word.

Harry groaned.

“Harry, I…” Hermione said cautiously.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said sternly, heading upstairs. However, he walked right past the room he knew Ron was in, respecting Ron’s privacy, and didn’t stop until he reached Buckbeak’s room.

“Hello again, old friend,” he said, lighting the lamps before sitting on the floor, leaning against Buckbeak’s sturdy form.

* * *

He didn’t spend too long upstairs in solitude. After a while he remembered what Lupin said, about enjoying himself this summer, and he decided that was the best thing to do. Then he remembered the box Lupin had given him. He dug it out of his pocket, lifting off the top curiously. What he found inside surprised him, but intrigued him at the same time. Within the box rested a dull Golden Snitch. He plucked it from its spot in the box and twirled it around in his hand, examining it. Then he saw it. Scratched into the side were the initials J.P. He looked at the tiny ball in amazement. This had been his father’s. Perhaps it was even the same snitch he had seen him playing with in Snape’s memory. He grinned and rotated the ball in his hands, as the two wings unfolded and began to quiver rapidly. Mimicking his dad, Harry released the snitch, allowing it to fly just a few feet away from him, and then snatched it out of the air. After a few minutes of playing around with it, he discovered that by pressing on a tiny bump on the side for a few seconds, the wings retracted again, leaving the snitch a simple golden ball.

Harry couldn’t stop grinning and twirling the ball around in his hand as he headed back downstairs. However, he halted outside his and Ron’s room, and placed the snitch back in his pocket. Ron didn’t need Harry flaunting a new item of his dad’s when Ron’s dad was currently locked in some cold, damp cell in Azkaban. Ron had a pretty close relationship with his dad, and they loved each other deeply. Harry knew that if Lupin hadn’t instructed him to keep up a light mood, he would be thoroughly depressed as well; there was a strong sense of guilt that was gnawing at him even as he tried to remain upbeat. Still, he managed to push everything aside in order to be there for Ron.

He knocked softly on the door before creaking it open timorously and poking his head through to make sure it was a good time to come in. He found Ron sitting on his bead, back turned to the door. Although he didn’t look up, Harry knew Ron was aware of his presence. He shut the door behind him and went to his own bed, sitting on its edge, waiting for Ron to speak first. He didn’t wait very long.

“Look, Harry. I’m sorry if I didn’t seem all too happy when you came back, because I am you know, I really am. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting Percy to actually convict dad.”

“I understand. You have every right to be upset; if it helps at all, I couldn’t believe it either. You should have seen the row they had.”

This caught Ron’s interest. “What’d they say?”

“Well, basically your dad blamed Percy for allowing the officials to be sent in the first place, which really ticked Percy off.”

Ron grinned wickedly. “Oh, I bet it did. Percy hates being insulted.”

“And then Percy went on to say all of this rubbish about your dad- essentially the same stuff he said during their last argument- but your dad stood up to him, and he didn’t back down. He even chastised Percy in front of everyone for not respecting him. And when Percy did insult your dad, I could tell that a lot of the Wizengamot members wanted to put him in his place, but of course they were afraid to because they’re all stupid gits who were afraid Percy would lecture them on the issues with faulty cauldrons or something if they did.”

Ron joined Harry in laughing. Then Harry took on a more serious tone again.

“I tried to argue, saying they were only defending me, but it didn’t work. If it’s any consolation, Percy was really upset at the end of it all.”

“Good,” Ron grunted.

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

Ron smiled and sat up on his knees. He seemed to have gotten over the initial shock of his dad’s absence, and was back to his normal self.

“So, tell me more about what happened,” he said enthusiastically.

“Well, there were several odd things-”

He was interrupted when Hermione came in.

“What are you two talking about?” she asked, joining Ron on his bed.

“Harry’s just telling me about the trial. So, what was odd?”

“To start with, Lupin made up this whole story about how he attacked the one Ministry official with the Stupefy charm, even though I did, just to save my neck.”

“Wow,” Hermione said, deeply impressed.

“I know,” Harry replied. “I couldn’t believe it either, until he was finished. The story was pretty good too, considering the time limitations he had to come up with it. Basically, he told them that I had dropped my wand, and since his had been knocked away, he grabbed mine and shot the spell at the official while the official thought he was unconscious.”

It was Hermione who noticed something was wrong first.

“Wait a minute,” she said, her bookishness showing through again. “How could he have made that all up? I’m sure I’ve read all about their lie detectors; his story should have set alarm bells ringing or something.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Harry said earnestly, hoping she’d have some explanation for it, as it had been bugging him all day long. “Do you have any idea how he got away with it?”

She got that distant look she obtained whenever she was thinking hard about something but said, “To tell you the truth, I have no idea. The only possible explanation I can think of is if he had somehow prepared in advance something that would prevent the lie detectors from discovering him.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe he did. I guess we won’t know until he gets out again.”

“Did anything else happen?” Ron asked.

Harry went on to tell them about meeting Geoff, which reminded him that his initiation was that evening.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Hermione rolled up her shirt sleeve to check her watch. “It’s almost 7:30. Why?”

“Because Geoff’s initiation is tonight.”

* * *

A little while later, Ginny popped in for a few minutes to tell them that they were all to dress nicely for the occasion, since they were going to be having a nice dinner in honor of the Order’s new member. She told them how Fred and George figured whoever this guy was, he was lucky; the Order didn’t just receive any applicants due to mistrust; that was the reason that the Order hadn’t combined forces with the Ministry or come out into the open yet- it was hard to trust anyone these days. (That, and the fact that they didn’t want the Order to fall apart in the disorganized chaos that the Ministry was currently in.) But then she mentioned that she supposed it was probably because he was a friend of Charlie’s, and he was training to be an Auror; the two had met in Romania when Geoff was originally a dragon-tamer of sorts.

After she finished telling them everything she knew, she and Hermione scurried off to get dressed. Harry was surprised Geoff hadn’t mentioned his affiliation with Charlie earlier, but then again, he probably didn’t know Charlie was even in the Order yet. Since he was already dressed formally, he waited for Ron to change. Ron was hesitant to wear his suit, and when Harry saw it he understood why. Although it wasn’t as bad as his formal robes he had worn to the Yule Ball, it consisted of khaki colored corduroy coat and pants, which had tiny moth-eaten holes in random places.

Ron stood in front of Harry glumly.

“See why I hate getting all dressed up?” Ron asked, holding out his arms to reveal fraying sleeves underneath.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Can I at least borrow a tie?”

Harry loaned him a brown tie of his and swapped the one he had been wearing all day for an emerald one.

“Shall we go then?” Harry asked, pulling his shirt cuffs up around his jacket’s sleeves.

Ron held out his arm for Harry to take, and Harry pulled a fake curtsy before wrapping his arm around Ron’s. They marched out of the room to a silent tune, chins facing the ceiling. However, this impaired their view of where they were going, and they walked right into Hermione and Ginny, who were just leaving their room as well.

“Would you two watch where you’re going?” Hermione scorned, smoothing her dress front.

“Sorry Her..mi..” Harry began to say, but failed to finish, because he had just laid eyes on her. Ron released his arm and they both stood staring at her as if it was the first time they had ever seen her. She was wearing a slim, elegant plum dress that reached all the way to the floor. It was only the second time he had ever seen her in a dress, but this time was different than the last. He looked from her feet up to her hips and slim waist and up further where she curved back out again… He felt his face heat up, and darted his eyes back up to her face, praying she hadn’t noticed what he was looking at. Her hair was pinned up behind her in a messy bun, two tendrils of curly hair framing her face. She had even gone to the limit of applying some light make-up. However, the thing he noticed the most was lying right against her chest; she was wearing the necklace he had given her. The emerald seemed to absorb all the light of the hallway, causing it to glow.

Ron cleared his throat next to him, as the hallway suddenly appeared in Harry’s view again and he realized how long they had been staring. He swiftly nudged Ron in the ribs in order to stop Ron staring too.

Hermione watched them curiously with narrowed eyes, hands on her hips.

“Are you guys feeling alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” they both said at once.

Hermione’s look lingered on them both a few seconds longer, but then she shrugged and started downstairs.

Harry and Ron watched her for a few seconds, then turned and caught each other’s eye. Harry could tell by the stunned look on Ron’s face that Ron was thinking basically the same things he was. Ginny saw them and rolled her eyes, sighing. She then followed after Hermione. He and Ron walked behind Ginny, and he suddenly found the usually cool hallway unbearably hot. He loosened his tie as they headed downstairs, into the kitchen.

The table was set very nicely. A white lace table cloth was draped over its entirety, transforming its bulkiness into elegance. Lit candles were placed along the center of the table, surrounded by a flowering garland for decoration. The usual dishware was swapped for a formal set of white plates with gold trim that had belonged to the Blacks. The silverware had elegant designs carved into it, and it sparkled in the light. Each place setting had a large plate resting on the table, followed by a smaller salad plate then soup bowl stacked on top. There were even tea cups resting upside down on small crumpet plates in addition to the wine glasses. The napkins were all folded into swans, which actually flapped their wings periodically. Harry marveled at the effort Mrs. Weasley had put into preparing the room, despite the unfortunate circumstances regarding her husband’s sentence.

The room was already full of bustling guests, so many, in fact, that Harry couldn’t see to the opposite end of the room. He, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron all squeezed their way into the room, trying with difficulty to reach the table. Judging by the number of people present, Harry guessed that almost every Order member was in attendance. He watched all of the guests with interest. He had never attended an elegant dinner party before, apart from the Yule Ball; the Dursleys had forced him to wait up in his room every time they had company or went to someone else’s party. That is, after he fixed the dinner or made the dessert gift for them, of course.

Neville was already there, and when he saw them he hurried over. “Have you seen all of the people here?” he asked excitedly. “I never realized half of these people were in the Order before. I’m actually shocked that the adults let us attend.”

“I talked mum into it,” Ginny said.

Ron looked impressed. “And how exactly did you manage to do that?”

She smiled mischievously. “Well, I didn’t exactly talk her into it. I rather talked Bill and Charlie into it, and then they talked her into it.”

They all laughed. Harry then busied himself in trying to figure out who was there. It did not take long to figure Hagrid wasn’t there, and nor was McGonagall; they were probably busy. As he suspected, Snape was there. He looked extra ridiculous with his oily hair greased back in an attempt to look presentable. As Snape laughed lightly at a joke someone else was telling him, he scanned the room, unintentionally catching Harry’s eye. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, as Snape’s hard black eyes bore into his, holding Harry’s stare, and then his gaze passed over him, falling back on the man he was talking to. Harry continued to watch Snape, his blood boiling. A deep hatred that resided in Harry stirred, like a dormant animal waking. Snape was one of the reasons Sirius was dead. No matter how hard Harry tried, he could not forget those snide remarks Snape taunted Sirius with. That, if nothing else, fueled an accumulating hatred of Snape in Harry. And now it was getting so bad that even the sight of him made Harry suddenly tense all over. As a result, Harry dreaded what potions class would be like this year.

Luckily, his mind was taken off of Snape as a skinny, towering figure approached him through the crowd. Still dressed in wizard robes, he stood out against everyone else, though it wasn’t the robes that set him apart; it was the looming sense of power that seemed to encase him, and touch everyone who came near. His long white beard, with strands of silver in it, hung low in front of him. Although his skin was pale and wrinkled, his limbs frail, and his hair white, his eyes were still youthful and alive with unsettled energy and he never hunched. Dumbledore approached Harry, and his appearance made his blood calm as all hated thoughts of Snape abandoned him.

“Hello Harry,” he said, his voice carrying a calm that penetrated deep into Harry’s very soul.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, respectfully nodding his head.

“I’ve heard all about your dealings this summer, naturally,” Dumbledore said. “I hope you understand my decision to remove you from your Aunt’s home earlier than usual, as I know how much that must have upset you.” Though his expression was impassive, his eyes twinkled mischievously.

Harry couldn’t help smiling.

Dumbledore continued, “I would love to discuss your summer with you, but I hardly find this the time or place. So I will be sure to see you in my office at the beginning of term?”

“Sure, Professor,” Harry said while fully aware that Dumbledore did not plan on discussing his summer pastimes, but rather his misfortunes.

“Good,” Dumbledore replied, continuing on through the crowd.

The five of them spent much time allowing Ron and Ginny to point out various Ministry members and give them a quick blurb of background history on each. As it turned out, there were many influential people there, many in high positions within the Ministry. Then there were also a few elders who were loyal friends and allies of Dumbledore’s, and a few people Harry recognized as part of the Wizengamot. Ron and Ginny were a wealth of knowledge in the form of Ministry people and politics. However, even they did not recognize a few of the stooped wizards and witches around the room; that’s where Hermione got her word in. She explained that she recognized them as old Hogwarts professors, or other accomplished wizards about whom she had read about in one old book or another. She related their names to Harry and the others, as Harry struggled to keep up and memorize them. By the time they had covered the bulk of people in the room, Harry felt thoroughly ignorant and confused.

Then it was his turn to introduce the others to someone, as Geoff caught sight of him and made his way over, waving.

“Hello Harry,” he said cheerily, shaking his hand energetically. “I heard all about the trial from Kingsley. I’m sorry to hear about Arthur and Remus. However, I’m glad you got off alright.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling at Geoff’s high energy. Then he realized the others were standing around him, following the conversation curiously. “Oh, sorry,” he said, turning to his friends. “This is Geoff. He’s the reason we’re all here.” They all murmured polite greetings, before Harry said, “Geoff, this is Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger,” gesturing at them all in turn.

Geoff beamed at them all and shook their hands as Harry introduced them.

“I thought you two looked like Weasleys,” he said in reference to Ginny and Ron. “I know your brother, Charlie. He’s told me a fair amount about you. Let’s see,” he said, observing them both in turn, apparently searching his memory for facts about them. “You’re entering your fifth year, and you were a Gryffindor Seeker last year,” he said, looking at Ginny. “Am I correct?”

“Yeah, you are,” Ginny replied. She was apparently ecstatic that someone knew so much about her.

Geoff turned to Ron next, looking him over as if that would jog his memory.

“And you were made Gryffindor Keeper and Prefect last year, are entering your sixth year, love Honeydukes candy, and hate spiders. Right?”

Ron looked astounded. “Yeah. How’d you know so much?”

Geoff shrugged. “Charlie told me. And he also told me,” he said, now looking at Hermione and Neville, “That you’re arguably the brightest witch of your age and that you live with your Grandmother and have a strong suit in Herbology.”

They both stared at him, amazed at his memory. Harry could tell they were all growing to like him as quickly as he did.

“So you’re all Gryffindors?”

Everyone nodded yes in answer.

“Huh. I was too, back in the same year as Charlie. That’s actually where we first met. I was never any good at Quidditch; it’s more a Weasley gene. However, I was a Prefect and my best subject was undeniably Herbology, that is apart from Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts; I had always loved gardening in my parent’s garden, though there were no gnomes there- just regular muggle vegetables- so when I learned that there were such things as magical plants- well, let’s just say they held my interest for an entire seven years.”

Harry noticed it right away; Geoff had something in common with every one of them, and by making them realize that, he was automatically gaining friends. It was a good tactic to keep in mind for future reference.

“Well, I have to go and meet a few more people; it’s all very dull talk, really, with the elders. I’d much rather stay here.” He sighed and smiled once more, before walking on, engaging himself in a conversation with an old stooped wizard Harry now recognized as an old friend of Dumbledore’s, Edward Helingway. Since Helingway’s sight was failing him, Geoff managed to sneak them a quick glance and yawn without the man noticing anything at all.

Harry laughed along with everyone else, though no one laughed as hard as Ron, who was practically teary-eyed.

“He’s even nicer than you said he was,” Ron said, after he had settled down.

Tired of standing, they decided to sit at the table, and as they approached it they discovered there were little name displays set along each place, assigning place settings. So they set off down along the edge, scanning the name tags for their places. Luckily, they weren’t sitting at opposite ends of the table, but nonetheless were spread out a little ways. Ginny and Neville were placed across each other near the center of the table, and Ron was two seats down on Ginny’s left. Harry and Hermione found they were sitting next to each other on the same side as Neville, though they were closer to the fireplace. This left Ron sitting kiddy-corner to Hermione, a place he apparently did not favor, judging by his scowl. After Harry sat for a few minutes trying to figure out why, he determined it was because Ron would rather be sitting next to her. He was about to offer to switch places with him, but then Mrs. Weasley announced it was time to take their seats, and before he knew it everyone else was already sitting. There was a buzz of conversation in the air as they all sat while wine was magically poured into their glasses. Glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye, Harry decided to voice what he had been thinking all evening.

He leaned over and whispered in Hermione’s ear, “You look really nice tonight.”

She smiled warmly, rosy cheeks deepening, and replied, “Why thank you. And might I add you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Harry grinned, chuckling at her overly sophisticated tone of voice.

“I especially love that necklace. Wherever did you get it?” he said, playing along.

Now it was Hermione’s turn to laugh. “Do you like it? My best friend gave it to me. You might know him. His eyes reflect the color of this emerald perfectly.”

“Hmm,” he said, holding his chin in imitation of old professors in deep concentration. “Nope. Don’t think I know him.”

They laughed together as the clinking of a knife on glass rang through the room, drawing their attention. Dumbledore was standing at the head of the table, wine glass held in his hand. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled genially around at everyone sitting at the table, and his smile immediately set the tone of the room. Everyone waited respectfully for him to begin his speech.

“Welcome, welcome,” he rang in his hushed calm voice that oozed power. “I’m glad to see you have all managed to attend. As I’m sure you know, initiations to the Order of the Phoenix are rare, and therefore when the scarcity does occur, it is reason enough for us all to gather in reception. As some of you know, and others do not, our newest member is about to become Geoff Everhurst.”

When Dumbledore announced his name, Geoff rose from his seat, which was directly next to Dumbledore’s. He was grinning from ear to ear, barely containing his excitement.

“Previously an aspiring dragon-tamer, Geoff is currently in training to become a fully-fledged Auror, after discovering his true interests lie in fighting dark forces, rather than taming them. He proves to be highly ambitious and committed, as he has already expressed his deep dedication to helping fight Lord Voldemort.”

There were shudders and intakes of breath from all around the room at the mention of Voldemort’s name, though it didn’t faze Harry. Even Geoff had flinched, though the entire point of the speech was to display his bravery against Voldemort.

Dumbledore pressed onward with his speech, ignoring the disruption. He turned to Geoff, who was practically bouncing with either nerves or excitement; Harry wasn’t quite sure anymore.

Dumbledore placed his hand on Geoff’s head, declaring the Order’s Oath for Geoff to swear to. It was short and simple, but Harry somehow got the feeling that it consisted of more than it appeared to; the way Dumbledore had his hand on Geoff as Geoff swore to the Oath made it seem as if Dumbledore was almost casting a spell on him, or that there was certainly some transfer of binding power passing out of his long fingers.

“Do you, Geoff Thomas Everhurst, swear to always follow the code of the Order of the Phoenix, and to never betray our secrets?”

“Yes,” Geoff said.

Dumbledore smiled and lifted his hand off of Geoff’s head. He then turned to address the other Order members.

“I am certain that you will all join me in toasting our official new constituent, Geoff Everhurst.” He raised his glass into the air, and everyone followed suit, chiming “Here, here!”

The dinner party lasted late into the evening. The final guests to leave did not do so until nearly 3:00 in the morning, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed up to the very end. Harry had a light buzz from the wine by the time he, Ron, and Hermione stumbled back upstairs to their bedrooms.

“Goodnight guys,” Hermione said, slipping back into her room.

Back in their room, as Harry sat on his bed, yanking off his dress shoes, Ron could not help but mention Hermione.

“Hermione looked really great tonight, didn’t she?” he asked in an off-hand way, which failed to fool Harry.

“Yeah, she did,” Harry agreed. “She should wear her hair up more often.”

“Yeah,” Ron said with a dazed and dreamy look on his face.

Harry laughed lightly, unbuttoning his shirt before rolling over onto his side. “Goodnight Ron.”

“Yeah, g’night,” Ron managed to utter, still staring dazedly at the wall across from him.

As soon as Harry rolled over he stopped laughing because he did not want to listen to Ron talking about Hermione. He did not want to hear anyone talk about Hermione with a less-than reserved attitude or a dreamy look on their face. And although he felt that, he refused to admit it to himself.

* * *

The next week passed by swiftly. Harry and Ron spent much of their time being pestered by Hermione, as she continuously urged them to read over their books. After listening to a few days of Hermione’s nuisances, Harry and Ron both caved in and settled down to reading through their Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, Practical Defensive Spells for the Advanced Wizard- N.E.W.T level. Actually, after he set his mind to reading it, Harry grew to enjoy reading the book; it contained countless spells he could tell would be useful that he hadn’t learned before. Then, at the end of the week, each of them received letters that Harry had been silently dreading: their O.W.L results.

Harry and Ron were sitting in their room, engaged in a game of wizard’s chess, which Harry was losing miserably, when Hermione came bursting into the room, three letters clutched to her chest.

“Our O.W.L. results have arrived!” she exclaimed breathlessly, cheeks flushed.

Harry and Ron both groaned in turn. Hermione swiftly handed them their letters before tearing hers open along the top, snatching the parchment from within and unfolding it quickly.

She scanned her letter with twinkling eyes, a slow smile stretching across her face. Harry and Ron watched her wordlessly, waiting patiently for her to tell them how she did. However, when she was done reading it she simply folded it back up and then looked at them.

“Well?” she said. “Aren’t you going to open yours?”

Ron and Harry glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, before Ron said, “Let me guess. You received all ‘Outstandings.’”

Hermione kept a straight face as she replied, “I’m not telling you what I got yet. I want to know what you got first.”

“Fine,” Harry said, ripping open his letter, as Ron grudgingly followed suit. Harry unfolded his letter wearily, wanting and yet not-wanting to see his results. Then when he looked at it, he found it was not as bad as he had anticipated.

Somehow, he had managed to receive ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and in Transfiguration. He had just barely scraped by with an ‘Acceptable’ in Astronomy, despite the disruption during the practical exam, and in Herbology as well. Upon seeing his Defense Against the Dark Arts grade, he felt his spirits soar: he had actually received an ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L. Then his spirits lowered again, as he found he got a ‘Dreadful’ in Divination and History of Magic, but then again, he had been expecting that. However, the biggest blow came when he caught sight of his Potions grade: Acceptable. Well, there went his chances of becoming an Auror.

He lowered his sheet, crestfallen.

Across the table, Ron groaned. “Well, I wasn’t really expecting anything better. Nothing higher than Exceeds Expectations, and that’s in Defense Against the Dark Arts, because of the club. Did you get a ‘D’ in Divination as well Harry?”

But Harry didn’t answer; he couldn’t even bring himself to look at them; he was too disappointed.

“What’s the matter?” Hermione asked.

“I got an ‘A’ in Potions,” Harry mumbled, eyes fixed on the table.

“Well, that isn’t too bad!” Ron said. “I got a Poor on that one,” he added bitterly.

“But you don’t want to be an Auror,” Harry said, looking up at him. “Snape won’t accept anyone who didn’t get ‘Outstanding’ into his N.E.W.T. class.

Ron and Hermione both cast him sympathetic looks. He felt Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Harry,” she said.

“It’s not your fault,” he grumbled. “I mean, I didn’t really expect to get an ‘Outstanding’. I just wanted to so badly, you know?”

Hermione and Ron sat there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Harry decided to spare them the trouble.

“Ah, it’s alright,” he said. “I’ll get over it. Besides, who wants three years of training after school anyways?”

“I know I wouldn’t,” Ron said. “I can’t wait to get out of school. Too bad I’m not into starting a joke shop. Otherwise I would bail early like Fred and George.”

Hermione cast him a stern look. “You know that was a bad idea.”

“No it wasn’t. Look how rich they are!”

“That doesn’t mean they couldn’t have stayed there for a couple more months and then started their joke shop. Why would anyone who hates school that badly stick around for so long, only to give up at the end? It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

Ron grunted. “Yeah, well that’s because you love school. I’d probably like it a bit more too if I knew all the answers to everything.”

Hermione frowned slightly, though continued just the same. “I don’t know all of the answers, Ron. And don’t make fun of me; if you would just actually try for once, instead of expecting me to give you all the answers, then-

“I do try!” Ron said indignantly. “And I don’t always ask you to give me the answers! I do plenty of my own work, don’t I Harry?”

Harry pushed his chair back from the table. “Oh no, you’re not bringing me into this.”

Ron raised his eyebrows at him, but Harry just shook his head.

“Well,” he continued, taking a different approach. “Not everyone is a super-brain like you Hermione.”

“I’m not a super-brain. I just work hard.”

“Yeah- so hard, you hardly ever get out and have any fun. There’s such a thing as too much work Hermione.”

Hermione frowned deeply at Ron, and Harry could tell that comment stung her more than the others.

She huffed and turned on her heel, walking briskly to the door. Once she reached it she stopped and turned and said to Ron, “Just because I work hard in school, that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun Ron. And because, unlike you, I know how to balance the two, I’m the one with all ‘Outstandings’ and you’re the one who now only has a few class and career options left open for him.” She then stormed through the door, shutting it roughly. Ron was left staring at the place where she had been standing with his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Harry said softly, regretting Ron’s words as if they were his own.

Ron’s ears turned red. “Yeah, well, she shouldn’t have said I don’t try, because I do. We both do.”

“You still shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know,” he moaned, sinking back in his chair. “But you have to admit, anyone who gets all ‘Outstandings’ is an over-achiever.”

“Yeah, she does focus a little too much on school sometimes,” Harry admitted, more to make Ron feel better than anything else. He turned back to the chess board, determining his next move and said, “Rook to C9.”

Later that evening, after much convincing on Harry’s part, Ron grudgingly apologized to Hermione. She let go of any resentment and let Ron off the hook easily, for once.

Once everything was patched up with them, the rest of July passed by smoothly. Neville joined their daily routine of reading their textbooks and occasional games of exploding snap, while Ginny stayed in the room with them, studying on her own. Harry and Ron found they were happy they read ahead of time after all; they figured it would come in handy later on, when everyone else had to read a bunch for homework and they didn’t. Harry showed Hermione and Ron the snitch Lupin had given him, explaining to them with sparkling eyes that it had been his dad’s. Sometimes various Order members would attend dinner; Moody stopped in several times, the Weasleys had their seats carved in stone, and Tonks came in at least 3 times a week. When the group wasn’t studying, they were helping around the house a bit. There was dusting to be done and some of the carpeting had to be replaced; light fixtures had to be hung or swapped out for new ones as well, which really helped brighten the house.

Then came the final day in July. Harry awoke from a deep sleep, and it took him a few seconds to wake up fully enough to realize what day it was. He grinned as he sat up in his bed. Today was his birthday; his sixteenth birthday, in fact. Impatient for the day to begin, he slid out of bed and through on a favorite t-shirt of his and jeans. He fed Hedwig a treat, and she hooted gratefully. Then he retrieved his snitch from within his trunk and headed out of the room, careful not to disturb Ron as it was still early.

Since nobody else was awake yet, Harry crept upstairs to feed Buckbeak. The new lights they had installed throughout the house- in this hallway, sconces- only required a spell to light them all.

“Illuminare,” he whispered, holding his wand out in front of him. All of the lights lit at once, allowing him to see all the way down the extensive hall. He padded down the hallway on light feet, wary of the creaky floor boards. Inside, Buckbeak ruffled his feathers restlessly, turning his fierce eyes on Harry. Harry bowed, asking permission to enter, and once it was granted he grabbed a dead mouse out of a bag hidden away in a cupboard and tossed it to Buckbeak, who snatched it out of the air gleefully.

It had grown so that every time Harry entered this room, he felt immensely distressed for the poor Hippogriff. There were no windows in this room- no natural air of any kind. He knew full well what it felt like to be cooped up in a tiny room, all freedom torn away. Whenever he was back at the Dursleys, even when he had permission to wander around outside, he always felt that they had might as well put chains on him, for all the freedom he felt. And the thing he longed for most, when he was stuck in his tiny bedroom at night, was to fly away. Now here this great beast sat, with no more freedom than Lupin or Mr. Weasley. Buckbeak was born to stretch his wings in flight, and Harry would have more than gladly set him free to do just that if the Ministry wouldn’t have captured and executed him as soon as they saw him. Harry grew more and more sorry that nothing could be done with every visit to the stuffy, dead-aired room.

Almost as if Buckbeak sensed this, he stretched his wings and trotted over to Harry, nuzzling his shoulder. Harry stroked Buckbeak’s sleek grey feathers, thankful for the kind gesture. Buckbeak then let out a small cooing cry and curled back down on the floor to rest. Harry left the room quietly and crept back downstairs again, dimming the lights behind him.

He decided to check if Ron was awake yet, so he poked his head through their bedroom door, only to find Ron snoring loudly into his pillow. Harry shrugged disappointedly; he was impatient for someone to be awake. He shut the door with a tiny ‘click’ and turned to find himself facing Hermione and Ginny’s room. He hadn’t even seen the inside of it since he had been here. Maybe one of them was awake, reading or something. It was worth a peek.

He twisted the handle slowly and creaked the door open inch by inch, until he could see inside. The light of the hallway cast a sliver of soft light over two beds, identical to his and Ron’s four-posters. At the base of each, Snowy and Crookshanks lay, purring contentedly. In the bed nearest him, the light of the doorway fell across Ginny’s face, just peeking up above her blankets; she was fast asleep. He couldn’t tell whether Hermione was in her bed or not, so he opened the door a bit further, allowing more light into the room. She was sitting up in her bed, a small book resting against her bent legs and a pen in her hand. Harry squinted his eyes, attempting to read what the book was, while unconsciously leaning on the door. In a flash, the door swung open and Harry fell into the room flat on his face.

He heard Hermione let out a slight exclamation of surprise, and he pushed himself off the ground, to find her standing in her nightdress behind her bed. Ginny, a deep sleeper (it was a Weasley gene), only rolled over in her bed and remained asleep. Harry felt his cheeks burning in embarrassment, and he backed automatically towards the door.

“Harry?” Hermione asked in a rushed whisper. “What are you doing in here?”

Harry noticed the slight transparency of her nightdress, and he looked away humbly.

“I was just seeing if you were awake. I’m sorry.”

She must have noticed how he didn’t meet her eyes, for she snatched up her blanket and held in front of herself.

“It’s alright. But you should knock first! You can’t just go bursting into girls’ rooms without an invitation!”

“I know,” Harry said awkwardly, stepping back through the door. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”

As he closed the door Hermione whispered, “Just a minute. I’ll be right out.”

He closed the door as quickly as he could, sighing in relief. Man, he could be really thick. Of course he shouldn’t have just let himself in. Stupid, stupid. He groaned and hit his head against the wall, but then regretted that as soon as he did it and jerked back, rubbing his sore forehead.

It didn’t take Hermione long to get dressed. She appeared a few minutes later, and to Harry’s immense relief she completely disregarded the whole event with the wave of her hand, when he tried to apologize again.

They weren’t halfway down the hall when Hermione stopped him with an outstretched arm and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks,” Harry said grinning.

“I’m sorry that we aren’t allowed outside the house,” she said, as they continued down the hallway and then the stairs. “We could have gone to a park or restaurant.”

“That’s alright, I don’t really mind,” Harry said. “I’m just happy that I get to spend my birthday like most people this year: surrounded by friends.”

Coming from anyone else, the phrase would have sounded sarcastic and cliché, but he managed to get away with it since in his case, it was the truth. Harry was looking more forward to this birthday than any of his birthdays in years past. Spending time outside that cramped house with the Dursleys, here surrounded by magic, was exactly Harry’s idea of a perfect birthday. Even if they had to just stay inside- he didn’t mind.

“So, what were you reading?” Harry ventured, though wary to bring up anything dealing with his stupid mishap when she had forgotten it. He was just too curious to not ask.

“Nothing,” Hermione said a little too quickly to be inconspicuous.

Harry grinned sheepishly, as they entered the kitchen. “It was a diary, wasn’t it?”

“So what if it was?” Hermione said, moving over to the pantry with her back to him. “I don’t think it’s any of your business whether I decide to keep a diary or not- that is, if it was one.”

“Which it is,” he said, lighting the lamps so they could see better. “I never thought you’d be the type to have a journal. I’ve never seen you writing in it before.”

Hermione’s head appeared back out of the pantry. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘the type’?”

Harry felt like reaching out, grabbing his words, and shoving them right back down his throat again.

“How do you even know what type of people keep journals? All sorts of people do. There is no ‘type’. Don’t stereotype me.”

“I wasn’t stereotyping you!” Harry said indignantly, as her head disappeared back in the pantry again. “And there are ‘types’ when it comes to journals: those who keep them, and those who don’t.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” came in reply from deep within the pantry. “There’s no good cereal left,” she added.

Harry headed over into the pantry, and found himself surrounded by shelves that towered over him, laden with goods. There were loaves of bread, bags of flour, vegetable oil, sacks of potatoes, crackers, chips, a variety of jars full of sauces and preserves, some stale Honeydukes candy, and innumerable bottles of Butterbeer and jugs of Firewhisky. However, Hermione was right- there was only a battered box of ‘Flakes and Flies’, a wizarding cereal with bugs that actually moved around. And even though the bugs were fake, it was still completely unappetizing.

“Hmm, you’re right,” Harry said, moving on to the very back of the pantry where there was an old refrigerator and freezer. He pulled open the suctioned door and peered inside, taking inventory. There was a jug of milk, some butter, fruit and vegetables, a little bit of deli meat, some cheese, and- aha! - a carton of eggs.

Harry grabbed the eggs, milk, some mushrooms, ham, and cheese and kicked the refrigerator closed again, walking out of the pantry and dropping everything on the counter.

“Do omelettes sound good?” he asked, heading back in for some bread. “I make a mean omelette.”

“It sounds great,” she replied. “I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”

He came back out with a loaf of bread in his arms, shutting the pantry door behind him. “I learned at the Dursleys; they used to force me to make their meals for them. I guess once I got good at it I didn’t mind. The only problem was that I didn’t get to eat whatever I cooked.”

“They were real jerks, weren’t they?” she said, grabbing a frying pan out of a bottom cupboard.

Harry chortled. “They still are. No matter; let’s not talk about them today.”

The two worked together seamlessly, Hermione handing him ingredients and dicing the mushrooms and ham while he whisked the eggs and put everything together. They didn’t use any magic; they just did it by hand, which was the only way Harry knew how to cook. Towards the end he went to make toast, only to find there was no toaster.

“We need toast,” he said, popping a piece of ham into his mouth while he flipped one of the omelettes with his other hand.

Hermione searched around the kitchen and soon exclaimed, “We could use the oven!”

“Um, I’m not sure that will work, Mione.”

“Oh, sure it will,” she said stubbornly, tossing the toast slices straight into the oven where they could toast on the grate.

He watched her set the oven to ‘bake’ apprehensively, but was too distracted by the omelettes to worry long. A playful air suddenly came about him, and he grabbed a bit of diced ham and flicked it across the counter at Hermione. It hit her face before she noticed it coming. She brushed it off with a sly smirk, before snatching up some stray bits of shredded cheese and diced mushrooms and throwing them back at him. He ducked down below the stove, causing her glob of food to smash harmlessly into the wall, and popped back up grinning, just as another bunch of chopped food hit him square in the face. He laughed, wiping it off his face and throwing the same food back at her, as she squealed and dove behind a chair.

This went on for a couple minutes, until they were both laughing, covered in bits of food. Harry flipped the omelettes up into the air in a showy display before catching them on their plates, which ended with a burst of applause from Hermione. He bowed and put the plates on the table before he came back for some silverware while Hermione brought two glasses of milk for them.

They sat across from each other at the table, and as soon as Hermione tasted it she said, “Mmm…Harry this is delicious!”

“Thanks,” he said, taking a bite out of his as well. Then he stopped dead, sniffing the air. There was a burning smell coming from somewhere, but that couldn’t be right…. “Do you smell that?” he asked Hermione, and she nodded her head as they looked at each other.

It dawned on them at the same time and they both sprang from their chairs, crying, “The toast!”

They ran over to the oven, and Harry yanked it open. A puff of smoke came billowing out at his face, and he leaned back away from it coughing and waving it away. It didn’t take long to see that the toast, now nothing more than two small burnt black crisps, was on fire. Harry looked around frantically for something to put it out with, and was about to run to the sink for water when Hermione whipped out her wand and said, “Glacius!” A blast of ice shot out of the end of her wand and doused the flames instantly. They were left breathing heavily and coughing in the smoking air. However, it only took a nervously tense look between them before they burst out laughing again in relief that their stupidity did not get too out of hand.

“I told you not to put the toast in there!” Harry sputtered.

“I’m sorry! I thought it was a good idea!” Hermione exclaimed, still laughing slightly. She shook her head vigorously, glancing apprehensively towards the smelly oven. “I am never doing that again.”

“Yeah, neither am I.”

There was no way to get the smoke out of the room except to just wait for it to disperse and thin-out. So they settled back down to their omelettes, eyes a little watery from the thick, murky smoke. Just as they were finishing and were cleaning up the dishes, Mrs. Weasley came into the room.

They were talking and they hadn’t heard her come in, until she cried, “What on earth happened in here? Is that smoke I smell?”

Hermione nearly dropped the plate she was holding and they both jumped at the sound, and turned to meet Mrs. Weasley reluctantly.

“We just had a little accident. Nothing major,” Harry said.

Mrs. Weasley looked at them incredulously, but they just stared back innocently. She put her hands on her hips, scrutinizing them. “And exactly what kind of accident was it?”

“We just burnt some toast,” Hermione said. “Sorry about the smell Mrs. Weasley.”

Mrs. Weasley looked like she was going to ask more questions, but then looked at Harry again and her expression brightened.

“Harry, dear! Happy Birthday!” she exclaimed, arms wide as she came up and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thanks,” he croaked, glasses knocked askew on his face from where Mrs. Weasley bumped him. She released him and he gulped for air as indiscreetly as possible.

Mrs. Weasley then looked around them at the dirty dishes still out, with a slight frown. “You two already had breakfast then?”

“What? Oh yeah, we had some eggs,” Harry said.

“Omelettes,” Hermione corrected. “Harry made them.”

“Did you now?” Mrs. Weasley said. “If I had known you could cook I would have been putting you to work. Now you two run along; go wake the others; I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

Harry and Hermione tried to argue, but she insisted, shooing them with the careless wave of her hand as she grabbed a dirty plate and began scrubbing it. So they headed upstairs, Hermione going to wake Ginny while Harry woke Ron. Ron put up a struggle, whipping around in his bed in fruitless attempts to shake Harry from him. In the end, Harry shoved him off his bed, leaving Ron to roll to the ground. He tried to curl up there, but Harry just poked his foot at him, yelling at him to wake up.

Once Harry was sure Ron was getting around, he headed up the hall to the room Neville was staying in. It didn’t take long to wake him. Harry simply laid his hand delicately on Neville’s shoulder and Neville sat up in a flash, looking around him with frantic wide eyes.

“Don’t worry, Neville. It’s just me,” Harry calmed. “You’re supposed to get around.”

A few minutes later everyone was gathered downstairs in the kitchen, some groggy, some wide awake. As it turned out, Mrs. Weasley was preparing breakfast, and since Harry and Hermione had already eaten, they waited up in her room instead. The room was really neat and tidy, spare stray fluffs of cat hair coating almost every surface. This room had a green velvet couch against one wall with a modest end table beside it. They also had a small bathroom directly off the room, which was so tiny you could barely squeeze the door shut once you were inside. A soft rug lay underfoot and when Hermione slipped off her shoes before she came in, Harry did the same. He followed her over to the couch on which Crookshanks was lying, where she sat down with her legs crossed Indian-style. Harry glanced from where Crookshanks was lying to the empty spot in the middle, and tried to get the cat to scoot down a little ways. Crookshanks hissed and spat at him, not budging, and Harry pulled his hand back swiftly. Hermione scolded the cat and scooped him up onto her lap, leaving room for Harry. He sat down with his legs pulled up to his chin, facing Hermione, who was stroking her cat’s thick orange fur.

“I’m sorry about him, Harry,” she said. “He didn’t mean it. Did you Crookshanks?” Crookshanks turned his flat face on Harry with what he swore was a gloating smugness.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the cat and Crookshanks turned his head back away.

“I hope Mrs. Weasley didn’t need those eggs,” Hermione said, “Or that she was planning on making you breakfast.”

“Nah, I doubt it.” There was a short silence that seemed to blow out his eardrums, and he found himself struggling to think of a conversation topic. “So, you told me you’d tell me about your parents and your home.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” Hermione said, still running her fingers through Crookshank’s fur. “We live in a townhouse in Oxford, on Ryan Drive; my parents have their dental practice in the city, so we don’t live far outside of it. There’s a small garden in the back; my mother loves to plant flowers.” She smiled and her eyes glazed over a bit as she began to reminisce.

Harry listened intently, imagining this perfect home she grew up in. It seemed to form in his mind as if someone was actually painting it there, and he found himself viewing a home with much more detail then Hermione was describing; it was almost as if he could really see it- like he was remembering it rather then imagining it.

“There are pink roses and white daisies and yellow buttercups. In the summer, when I return home, I sit out in the garden on this little bench tucked away in a corner of the patio with a fountain beside it and read. The birds chirp all day and the sun warms the entire space below. But my favorite part is running outside when I come home to see the spring lilies; I planted them with my mom when I was little, and she says that when they bloom, they remind her of me, and she wakes up every morning and looks out her bedroom window to see them.

“Then inside, let me think…” she said, furrowing her eyebrows slightly for a moment. “There are three bedrooms and two baths on the upper level. It’s nice to come back from sharing a dormitory and bathroom and to have my own. I have a stereo in my room and some really plushy pillows on my bed. A couple of years ago I made my parents let me paint my room blue with clouds; that’s great to look at on rainy days. And I have my desk and closet and hammock-swing-”

“Hammock swing?” Harry interrupted. “What’s that?”

“You’ve never seen a hammock swing before?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s just like a hammock- you have seen those, haven’t you?”

Harry rolled his eyes with irritation and nodded yes; of course he knew what a hammock was.

“It’s basically a small canvas hammock hung from this one plate on the ceiling by rope coming from all four corners, which makes it bunch up like a bag almost. But then, they cut the front out so you can sit in it and they cut out half of the sides and insert little wooden poles to serve as armrests. When you sit in it, you sink down in it like a hammock with your legs hanging down like on a swing, only there’s a little footrest hanging from the seat so you don’t have to just hang there with your feet in the air. It’s really comfortable.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Harry said, not sure he understood it exactly.

“I miss that swing so much while we’re at Hogwarts. It’s one of my favorite spots to read.”

“So why don’t you hang one in your dorm?”

Hermione laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, sure Harry.”

“I bet you could if you wanted to,” he persisted. “I don’t remember reading any rules that said hammock swings aren’t allowed.”

“They don’t tell us not to bring rifles either,” she said, putting Crookshanks on the ground at her feet. He proceeded to creep up on Snowy, who was still sleeping on the edge of Ginny’s bed. In a sudden movement Crookshanks leapt up onto the spot where Snowy was lying- or had been lying, since Snowy rolled out of the way before Crookshanks landed. They began to chase each other around the room playfully.

Harry watched Snowy and felt something strange tug at his mind. He swore that he had seen that cat before somewhere, but he could not figure out where. It was right on the edge of his knowledge, hovering there but never coming close enough for Harry to grasp, and it was beginning to drive him insane.

He must have had an odd look on his face, because Hermione said, “Is there any particular reason why you hate that cat?”

Harry shook his head, tearing his eyes from that snow white blur. “No. I don’t hate it. But it looks so familiar, and I can’t figure out why…like when you know the name of a song and it’s on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t quite remember even though you’re trying so hard to…”

“Oh. I hate it when that happens; it’s so frustrating.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah.”

Hermione looked around the room as if searching for something to say or do and then offered, “Want to play a game of exploding snap?”

He grabbed the deck from his room and they sat on the floor of her room playing. Every time one of the cards exploded they would both jump in surprise, falling backwards and Hermione would give a little shriek. Harry won the first game and they were just beginning a second when Ron wandered in, sitting down with them.

“Want to play a round?” Harry asked, gathering and shuffling the cards.

“Sure,” Ron said. “I wasn’t expecting you to be in here; I wondered where you went off to when I didn’t find you in our room, so I went to check up in Buckbeak’s room.” Ron gulped, his face pale. “And I sort of forgot to bow and it was all dark so I didn’t even see Buckbeak on the ground and I sort of tripped over him…”

Harry looked up from dealing the cards, saw Ron’s expression, and burst out laughing.

“What happened?” he asked.

“He squawked and spread his wings out, knocking me back over again when I tried to stand up. So I…I backed away as fast as I could and then stood up and jumped over him before he could stand up fully. And he was going to chase me down the hall but I slammed the door closed before he could.” He recalled it all with horrified wide eyes.

Harry and Hermione couldn’t help laughing. Ron looked offended for a little but then calmed down and heaved a deep sigh before joining them in finding the amusement.

They spent a great deal of time playing exploding snap, and the round soon turned into a miniature tournament. Hermione was out after the first three games but she stayed next to them, cheering them on and putting out small fires on the rug, or on one occasion Ron.

Then, when noon rolled around, Mrs. Weasley came upstairs into their room, Ginny and Neville just visible behind her in the hall.

“Let’s get around to go now dears,” she said kindly.

Ron and Hermione got up immediately, but Harry sat on the ground looking up at them, completely confused.

“What’s going on?” he asked, standing up slowly.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Mrs. Weasley said, face working hard to suppress a smile. “Just feed Hedwig and come down to the kitchen.”

He looked at them all suspiciously, but was shoved out of the room by Ron before he could ask any more questions. Ron also refused to tell him anything, so he distractedly fed Hedwig and then followed Ron out of the room. They passed a table near the doorway with random objects on it, and Harry doubled back in order to snatch his snitch off of it, shoving it in his pocket.

Down in the kitchen, Harry and Ron found the others waiting for them, gathered around the fireplace. Mrs. Weasley had the bowl of floo powder down from the mantel and in her hands. Everyone was grinning with the knowledge of what was happening, but that only made Harry frown slightly.

“Why don’t you go first, Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley said, as Ginny stepped into the fire and grabbed a handful of floo powder, some of it sifting through her fingers and falling to the fireplace floor.

“The Burrow!” she said, loudly and clearly, and in a flash of blinding green light she was gone.

“The Burrow?” Harry asked Ron. “Why are we going there?”

Ron disregarded Harry’s question and pushed him towards the fire where Mrs. Weasley held out the bowl for him to grab some floo powder.

“I’ll see you there,” Ron said.

Harry grabbed a handful half-reluctantly, half-excitedly for his nerves were beginning to bounce around inside of him in anticipation of what was coming like fireworks in a jar. He didn’t think about what could possibly be at Ron’s house, but nonetheless, he felt his own inexplicable excitement and threw the powder down before him, shouting, “The Burrow!”

He spun around and around, willing himself to go faster while pulling his arms tight against his sides, and landed with his feet planted firmly on the ground. He brushed the fireplace ash off his shoulders and shook his head vigorously like a dog to remove the ash from his hair and then stepped out of the fireplace and took a look around.

The Burrow was undeniably one of Harry’s favorite places in the world. Every sight, every scent was welcoming. The tiny magical details were abundant inside and out, and the vibrant colors and diverse gadgets came together to make Ron’s humble home a cozy haven.

He took a deep breath through his nose, breathing in every aroma and smiled as he looked at the broom sweeping the floor on its own accord. There was a ‘whoosh’ behind him and Ron landed in the fireplace amidst a cloud of ash and dust. Harry walked over and offered his hand, helping Ron up.

“So are you going to tell me why we’re here now?” Harry asked Ron.

“Just hold your horses,” Ron said. “Let’s wait for Hermione first.”

Ginny spoke up from across the room, where she was leaning on the kitchen table. “And Neville.”

“Yeah, him too,” Ron said, rolling his eyes privately for Harry.

The other two arrived and were soon followed by Mrs. Weasley.

“Come on,” Ron said, leading the way. “We’ll go out back.”

Harry followed him, becoming more and more excited every moment. However, he wasn’t expecting what he found waiting for him outside. There was a large picnic table hidden under food and brightly colored packages of varying shapes and sizes. What was more, there was a large group of people gathered around the table, conversing with one another. Harry beamed. It was just like one of Dudley’s parties, only this time, it wasn’t for Dudley; it was for him.

Ron put his fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply beside Harry. All of the conversations stopped at once, as everyone turned their heads in their direction. The air hung silent for a split second and then a loud noise erupted again.

“Surprise! Happy Birthday Harry!”

Harry began to feel light-headed, as he looked around at the group of people gathered in celebration of his birthday. He never would have dreamed that he’d see some of the people there until the beginning of school. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were both there, standing close together in the front of the crowd. Luna Lovegood stood solitarily off a little ways from the bulk of the group, staring vaguely at her surroundings as if she had stumbled to the party on accident. Katie Bell was also there, standing with two other girls and a boy Harry wasn’t expecting to see ever again: Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Oliver Wood; Alicia and Angelina had graduated a couple months ago, and Harry was incredibly aware of how weak Gryffindor’s Quidditch team was going to be without them and the twins; Oliver, on the other hand, had been gone for over three years now and Harry was amazed he would take the time out of his grueling Quidditch schedule to come at all. There was a large group of Order members present as well. Tonks; Kingsley; Moody; Dedalus Diggle; Bill, Charlie, and Fred and George Weasley; as well as Geoff were gathered around the table, smiling jovially at Harry. Bill was accompanied by a witch with shining light blonde hair and unblemished clear skin: Fleur Delacour. One person in particular stood out to Harry, as he towered over all of the others, casting them in shadow. Hagrid, the very person who fetched Harry first from the ruins of his home then from the Dursleys was there, sweating profusely with his thick hair and heavy pants in the summer sun. At least he had the sense to wear a short-sleeve shirt, no matter how scruffy it was. There were also two teachers there whose presence astounded Harry most of all: McGonagall and Dumbledore. He hadn’t seen McGonagall at the initiation and was not expecting to see her again until the school year; after all, she never even showed up at Grimmauld Place for a quick word or meal, unlike most others. Seeing Dumbledore sent a tingling thrill down Harry’s spine. Last year Dumbledore would hardly look at him, and now he was standing at his birthday party. The gesture nearly knocked Harry off his feet.

Ron nudged him from behind. “Go on; go say hello to everyone!”

Harry walked up to Dumbledore first, Hermione and Ron accompanying him. Scatterings of conversation started up again as people began helping themselves to chips and other snacks from bowls on the table.

“Hello, Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said respectfully, shaking his hand.

“Pleasure to see you again Harry,” Dumbledore said vibrantly.

“Professor McGonagall,” Harry continued, shaking her bony yet firm hand.

“How are you fairing, Potter?” she asked politely.

“Fine-Great,” Harry said.

“Miss Granger; Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall acknowledged with the slightest nods of her head, which Ron and Hermione returned politely.

“I wasn’t expecting to see either of you until next term,” Harry said to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

“Well, we weren’t too busy today,” McGonagall began.

“Not to mention the fact that we were not about to miss a party,” Dumbledore finished, smiling.

McGonagall’s severe expression lightened as a rare smile flickered on her face, though it was so swift that Harry barely caught it.

“We won’t keep you here, Potter,” McGonagall said. “It was nice to see you outside of school for a change.”

“You as well,” Harry said.

“I’ll see you three at the start of term,” she said. “Remember your Transfiguration papers, will you?”

They all said they would, though when they turned to walk away Ron groaned lightly beside him. “Ugh. I had forgotten about that.”

Harry welcomed several of the guests, including the Weasleys and the various Order members, and then they made their way over to Hagrid. He was talking animatedly, large jug of what appeared to Harry to be ale in hand, with Bill Weasley and to Harry’s pleasure, yet Ron’s dismay, Fleur.

“So I says to him, I says ‘If yeh got a problem with the brute, then I might jus’ know someone to take him off yer hands fer yeh.’ O’ course he was in’trested in that, couldn’t turn it down- Harry! Ron, Hermione!”

Hagrid looked down at them from where he towered above.

“Hello Hagrid,” Harry said, craning his neck in order to see Hagrid’s face.

“How’re yeh doin’?”

“Fine,” he said.

“Good to hear it!” Hagrid said. “Happy Birthday! Another year already, eh? Time flies, don’t it? Time sure flies.” He smiled down at Harry, patting him on his shoulder, and in turn driving him a couple inches into the dirt ground. “I mean look at yeh. Wasn’t too long ago I was watchin’ yeh get sorted- just a little moppet-head. Now you’re gettin’ to be almost as tall as I am! I jus’ wanted to tell yeh, Harry: yer growing to be a fine man, a fine man. Lord knows I’m proud of yeh.”

“Thanks Hagrid.”

“Yeah, well…” Hagrid said, eyes glistening a little from something other than the sun. “And how’re yeh two doin’?” he asked Ron and Hermione.

“We’re doing great Hagrid,” Hermione said. “It’s so good to see you again; we missed you at the initiation.”

“Oh, tha’. I was busy, yeh know? Had some business ter be taken care of. Mainly caring fer the family. You should see ‘im! He’s grown so he can speak entire sentences now, if he feels like it. And he’s stopped tearing up the trees, and-”

“That’s great Hagrid!” Hermione cut in abruptly.

Bill and Fleur were standing right beside them, and although they were talking quietly themselves, they were more than close enough to overhear.

“You’ll have to tell us more later! We’d love to hear, wouldn’t we?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ron said.

“Of course we would,” Harry said.

“Alright,” Hagrid said. “We’ll have a lot better time with him this next year. Dumbledore’s lettin’ me keep him in the forest. He’s a great man, Dumbledore.” He grinned a lopsided grin. “Now, if yeh’ll ‘scuse me, I’m gonna find somethin’ more ter drink.” He lumbered off towards the coolers where the drinks were being kept, near the house, and he caused a few people to scoot out of his way quickly with his loopy walk.

“Someone’s going to need to escort him home, at the rate he’s going,” Bill said, watching as Hagrid fumbled to open the cooler. He then addressed Harry. “Happy Birthday. I hope you enjoy the party.”

“It’s brilliant,” Harry said. “Hi, Fleur. It’s good to see you again.”

“Why, thank yoo,” she said, tossing her shimmering hair back with a flick of her head. “I told Bill I was looking forward to seeing yoo again,” she continued, the flow of sentence broken up with some unnecessary pauses as she struggled slightly to speak in English, though Harry could already tell there was an improvement. “Gabrielle tells me to say hello.”

“Oh, that was nice of her. How’s she doing?”

“She iz to be attending Beauxbatons this year, as did I.”

She stopped and glanced at Harry, looking him up and down as if he was cattle she was checking over before purchasing. “I must say,” she said, still sizing him up, “that if I had been told you were competing this year, I would have no protest that you were too young.”

Harry heard Hermione make a faint sound of clear distaste behind him.

“Um, thanks…I guess,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Ok then,” Bill said abruptly. “So, I guess we’ll be seeing you around,” Bill said, tips of his ears glowing crimson. “Let’s go, dear,” he said to Fleur. “I’d like you to meet someone else…” He led her off, keeping his arm around her shoulders as if he was afraid she would get lost or he had a mission to make sure everyone knew they were dating.

“Buh-bye, Harry!” she said, with a feeble wave over her shoulder. “Bill, I wasn’t done talking to heem…”

“What was that all about?” Ron said, as they continued on towards Wood and the others.

“Beats me,” Harry said.

“That girl drives me insane,” Hermione said. She quickened her pace, and as she passed Harry was sure he heard her muttering, “The nerve…stupid vein phony…”

The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched as he watched Hermione storm off.

“Potter! It’s been a while.” Wood stood before him with a glass of pop in his hand. He offered his free hand and Harry took it.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again!” Harry said. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing great, as a matter of fact. Quidditch is going well; they finally offered me a raise just recently, and the team’s doing really well up against the competition. We’re currently ranked 6^th in the league.”

“That’s excellent!” Harry said.

“So, how’s Quidditch doing for you and Gryffindor? I heard Gryffindor won the cup last year?”

“Yeah, we did. I didn’t really help much though.”

Wood raised an eyebrow. “And why would you say that?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard all about Umbridge…”

“Yeah, Angelina was just telling me when you came over.”

“She gave me a life-long ban after I went after Malfoy at the end of a game.”

Wood’s eyes shot wide open. “I don’t believe it!” he said in his thick Irish accent. “That little ball of slime, eh? I’m glad he finally got a bit of what he deserved.”

“She banned Fred and George too,” Angelina said, joining in the conversation. “Happy Birthday Harry.”

He just managed to say a quick ‘thanks’ when Oliver spat out his drink, spraying it all over.

“Fred and George too?” he said disbelievingly.

“You heard me right,” Angelina said. “And Fred didn’t even do anything! I tell you what, that Umbridge woman was a real hag. I’m just glad you’ll be rid of her this year.”

Wood stood there with a stupid look on his face, as if he had just been hit with something and he still couldn’t figure out what had happened.

“So, how’d Gryffindor win then?”

“Practice,” Angelina said briskly, “And a miracle.”

“Ginny Weasley became the new seeker and my friend Ron was made Keeper in your state,” Harry explained.

“And Kirke and Sloper were made beaters. You probably don’t know them. A couple of clumsy morons, quite frankly,” Angelina said, arms crossed in front of her. “But I managed to whip them into shape after a bit.”

Wood downed the rest of his drink. “Wow. Depressing, yet impressive at the same time. You’ll be allowed back though now that Umbridge is gone, won’t you?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said bleakly.

“Don’t kid yourself, Harry,” Angelina said. “I’m sure they’ll let you back. Ginny was good, but she doesn’t come close to you; we all know it, including Ginny.”

“I’m just not getting my hopes up,” Harry replied.

Someone suddenly shouted his name from across the yard. “Harry! Come on over!”

He looked around to find Ron waving him over, standing with Dean and Seamus. Turning back to Angelina and Wood he said, pointing over his shoulder, “Uh, they’re calling…”

“Go ahead,” Angelina said.

“Good to see you again,” Wood said, offering a smile, before he and Angelina turned back to Alicia and Katie.

Harry strode across the yard to where the guys were gathered, waiting impatiently for him.

“Hey Seamus, Dean,” he said as he stopped near them.

“Harry you’ve got to get a load of this!” Ron said fervently, pointing to something Dean held in his cupped hand. Upon closer examination, Harry saw that it was a tiny remote of some kind.

“What’s that for?” Harry asked him.

“Fart machine,” Seamus said, grinning impishly in boyish amusement.

“I bought it in a joke shop in London this summer,” Dean explained. “Great gag.”

“So who are we going to plant it on?” Seamus asked quickly in an undertone. They were all standing in a close cluster near some bushes growing wildly along the Weasley house. They scanned the crowd through the corners of their eyes, being careful not to draw attention to themselves in case their joke was discovered, not that anyone was paying them any attention as it was.

Dean suddenly jerked his head to the left, indicating a possible victim a ways away. “How about Luna?”

“Nah, too mean,” Ron said. This caused everyone to swivel their heads in his direction. Ron squirmed under their glance and added, “Plus, she’s never exactly the center of a group, is she? How much good would it do? The point is for other people to hear it go off.”

“Weasley’s got a point,” Seamus said, nodding his head. “I know. We could plant it on Hermione.”

“Again, too mean,” Harry said at once, dismissing the idea. “She wouldn’t really appreciate the humor.”

“Aw, come on…” Seamus urged.

“Fine,” Ron said. “So long as you’re willing to get her mad at you before school even starts. You can sit under her cold glare every time you’re in the same room, or get points deducted for stupid little things like un-tucked shirts-”

“Alright, alright already,” Seamus said. “I get your point. So, we’ll just pick someone else. Ginny?”

“Nope,” Dean said firmly. “She’d figure it out in a second. She did grow up with Fred and George, after all.”

Seamus groaned, frustrated. “Well you choose who then!” he said, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

“I know,” Harry offered. “We could do it to Hagrid. He’s drunk so he wouldn’t even notice. Probably would be asking who else did it while everyone knows it’s coming from him. And he won’t really mind when the joke’s up.”

“Nice,” Dean agreed. “Who’s going to plant it?”

“I will,” Ron offered. “I’ll just slip it into his pant pocket; he won’t even be able to feel it through all of that fabric.” He shook his head slowly back and forth. “I don’t know how he survives the heat in those things.”

Dean handed the actual device over: a little black box with a speaker built in that could be activated from 20 feet away with the remote. They sat back and watched as Ron strolled up to Hagrid casually with the box shoved in his pocket. Hagrid was sitting on a big log stump at one end of the picnic table with Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Fred, George, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, McGonagall and Neville. Ron stood right next to Hagrid, and although they couldn’t hear what he was saying they could tell he was talking to him. Then, with a darting glance in their direction, he leaned across Hagrid to reach the chip bowl and deftly slipped the box into Hagrid’s pocket in the process. He then said goodbye to Hagrid and came back towards them across the yard, shoving the handful of chips into his mouth and giving them a greasy thumbs-up sign.

“Let’s go sit at the other end of the table,” Ron said. “That way we can hear everything going on.”

They took up seats on the two benches of the picnic table at the opposite end from everyone else, leaving some space in between. Harry grabbed a plate and helped himself to a brownie and some pretzels, as well as some Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.

“We’ll set it off when he’s laughing or something,” Dean whispered across the table. “It always works better that way. I’ve already tried it at a family reunion. Let me tell you, there’s nothing funnier than a few drunken cousins who can’t figure out what’s going on for at least 15 minutes. They kept saying sorry and laughing like they truly believed they were doing it.”

They all laughed when Luna suddenly plopped down right next to Ron, causing him to scoot over a little and knock Dean right off the end.

“Hey!” Dean said, getting off the ground. “What was that for?”

“Shh…keep it down,” Harry cautioned. “We don’t want anyone to pay us too much attention, remember?”

Dean brushed the dirt off his pants and came around to sit next to Seamus instead, as Harry and Seamus made room for him.

“Whatcha doing?” Luna asked airily, directing the question at Ron.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Oh. You know, it’s impossible to do nothing. Even when you’re dead then you’re lying there, or you’re decaying or you simply exist in the state of death.”

“Right,” Ron said, shooting a glance at Harry and the others. “Umm, Luna,” he continued, scooting down the bench a little ways from her. “Don’t you have anything else you’d rather be doing? We’re kinda having a private conversation.”

“Nope, not really,” she replied, picking at a loose splinter of wood in the table with her nail.

Ron shot another glance at them, this one even more desperate. Harry shrugged.

“Just go ahead with it,” Harry told Dean.

Dean pulled out the remote from his pocket and kept it hidden in his hand, which he laid on the table casually. They watched and waited for Hagrid to laugh, and they didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Hagrid threw his head back in a wild drunken hoot, Dean jabbed at the button in his hand with his thumb, and soon a loud farting noise erupted and resonated throughout the thick summer air and drowned out every other sound around. Every person sitting near him at the table simultaneously flicked their eyes on him in both questioning and aversion. Hagrid leaned forward and Dean pressed the button again. This time people began to catch each other’s eye, and some waited for Hagrid to excuse himself.

“What’s that you got?” Their attention was averted from Hagrid by Luna’s sudden question. They found her indicating the remote in Dean’s hand.

Dean hastily wrapped his hand tighter around it and pulled his hand in against his chest. “It’s nothing,” he told her. “Just a toy of mine.”

“It looks like a remote to me,” Luna persisted.

Dean looked around nervously, unsure of what to say, but Ron spared him the trouble. “Okay. If I tell you, will you promise to just keep quiet about it?”

Luna put her hand on her chest and said seriously, “Cross my heart.”

“Fine. It’s a remote. Alright? We’re in the middle of a little gag on Hagrid. It controls a little fart machine we planted on him. Are you happy now?”

“Mhmm,” she said contentedly. “But don’t you think that’s a little mean?”

Ron’s patience was used up. “No. I don’t, because it isn’t.” He looked at Dean. “Let’s just carry on with it.”

Dean smiled and pressed the button again, and again a loud offensive noise rang through the air. This time, everyone stopped talking and looked directly at Hagrid, awaiting an explanation. But Hagrid had noticed it too, and his brow furrowed a bit as he said, “Now, who did that? Yeh oughta fess up an’ apologize.”

Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Ron all stifled laughs, clamping their mouths shut or burying their face in their arm. Everyone was frowning at Hagrid, except Ginny and Neville who had caught each other’s eye and were working hard not to burst out laughing like Harry and the others. A second later another one rang out, and this time Hagrid exclaimed, “Alright! Who keeps doin’ that? It’s mighty rude.”

Clearly, nobody knew what to say, and they were all shifting in their chairs uncomfortably. Ron choked on his drink at Hagrid’s confused and disapproving expression.

“Do really think that’s funny Ronald?” Luna asked him, frowning slightly.

“Yeah, I do,” Ron said, catching his breath again.

What happened next took them all by surprise. Luna looked at Ron for a few seconds and then burst out laughing, smacking her hand down on the table and throwing her head back. Ron nearly jumped off his seat and he looked slightly frightened by her. Seamus caught Harry’s eye and he shrugged, not sure what was going on.

“Ha..heh…do it again!” Luna exclaimed it between laughing fits.

Dean pressed the button hesitantly, and this time Hagrid looked all around him, twisting in his chair, trying to identify the source and several people stood up and walked away.

“It’s not funny Hagrid,” Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

“Darn right, it ain’t!” Hagrid exclaimed.

Luna’s laugh escalated to a piercing volume and she clutched her sides and fell off the bench onto the ground, where she rolled around in a fit. This began to draw attention as Bill, Charlie and Mrs. Weasley all looked at her, questioning what was so funny.

“Stop it, will you?!” Ron muttered fervently, bending down and grabbing her arm to pull her back up to the table. “You’re drawing too much bloody attention.”

But it was already too late. Bill had noticed there was something suspicious and came up to them, questioning what was going on.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, as Luna continued to giggle lightly. Ron nudged her in the ribs and she finally stopped. “You wouldn’t happen to think Hagrid’s little issue is, would you?”

“Nah, of course not,” Seamus said.

“Ah. What’s that you’ve got?” Bill asked Dean, as Dean covered his balled up fist containing the remote with his other hand spastically.

“Just some chips,” Dean said, refusing to meet Bill’s eyes.

“Oh, really? I love chips. Mind if I have one?” Bill reached out and pried open Dean’s fist easily, snatching up the remote victoriously and examining it. “What do we have here?” he said, rotating it in his hand. Then what he did surprised Harry a little. He tossed it back onto the table and grinned. “Good gag. I’ve heard about these but never seen one. But the joke’s over now. I’ll retrieve your little machine for you and return it to you at the end of the day.” He then walked back to the others and sat back down again, and when Harry heard Mrs. Weasley ask what was going on, Bill just shrugged and told her Seamus had just cracked a funny joke.

They were all thoroughly relieved, though none so much as Dean.

“Phew,” Dean said, leaning back and using his legs to keep him from falling off the bench. “I thought we were in trouble.”

“Nah,” Ron dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. “Bill’s not one to overlook the sense of humor in a situation, luckily.”

Hermione, Neville, and Ginny soon came and joined them at the picnic table and were closely followed by their ex-classmates and any other stragglers for dinner. Mrs. Weasley had prepared a scrumptious meal for them all and at the end of the miniature feast Fred and Charlie suddenly appeared out of the kitchen carrying an enormous sheet cake between them. It was coated in vanilla icing and had the phrase ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ written on it and sixteen candles all around the edges. Everyone took time to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him in loud, raucous and joyous tones and Fred and George made up a little rap about him to go along with it. Then Dumbledore lit the candles with a wave of his hand and Harry was told to make a wish. He squinted his eyes tight and decided what to wish for right away: for a safe year with his friends. Taking a deep breath, filling his lungs to maximum capacity, he held it for a split second, said the wish in his head, opened his eyes and blew out every single last one of the candles with the single breath. He grinned as a cheer erupted and he was asked to slice the cake while everyone crowded around, picking their pieces.

After everyone had their fill and their pants felt considerably tighter, Charlie proposed to have a game of Quidditch. Someone went back to Grimmauld Place and collected Harry’s broom from his room, along with Ron’s new Flash. When people caught sight of Ron’s broom, they clustered around in awe. Ron smiled proudly and gladly showed it to anyone who would look, then hopped on it for the first time.

“Ready to give our brooms a go, Harry?” he asked, straddling his broom.

“You have no idea how ready I am,” Harry responded, as Ron and he both kicked off the ground at the same time, and he felt the whoosh through his hair and his spirits soar. A sense of exhilaration that overwhelmed him every time he took flight hit him now, and he grinned and took off as fast as he could, soaring up above the house, scraping the chimney with his toe, before zooming back around again and landing next to Ron, who had completed the lap before him with his advanced speed.

It was then Harry noticed how fast Ron had gone. It had only taken him about 5 seconds to circle the entire house and then touch back down again. He had been so busy enjoying the rush himself that he had failed to notice Ron zooming right past him.

“That was incredible!” Ron exclaimed, as more people began to goggle at his broom now that they had seen its capabilities. “I’ve never flown so fast before!”

“I want Ron on my team,” Fred said, taking a step closer to Ron, claiming him.

“No, I believe he would rather be on my team,” George said, grabbing Ron’s arm and pulling him over to him. They began pulling back and forth on Ron’s arms until Bill stepped forward, raising his hands in the air.

“Alright, alright- cut it out!” he yelled at Fred and George. They dropped Ron’s arms in an instant and Ron stood there looking slightly breathless, but happy just the same. “I’ll divide the teams. Let’s see….Harry, you team up with Fred, Angelina, Charlie and Wood. Ginny, Ron, Katie, Alicia, George and I will be on the other team.”

Harry was going to argue that Bill’s team had more players, but when he realized who he had on his own team, he decided not to dispute it.

Geoff went to fetch the balls from the shed and then came center ‘field’ to referee (they were going to use Harry’s snitch since the Weasleys didn’t have a real one). The Weasleys had three round rings that appeared to be hula-hoops on either end of the yard. They weren’t as tall as in real Quidditch but they served their purpose fairly well. The people who weren’t playing decided to spilt up and cheer for different teams; Mrs. Weasley divided the group down the middle and they sat on the grass on either side of the yard. Harry noticed that Hermione was on the side cheering for him, sitting next to Seamus, and he smiled to himself as he mounted his broom and prepared to kick off.

Ginny was to be the opposing seeker, and he looked forward to seeing how her skills compared with his; she had, after all, managed to catch the snitch every game she played in last year- and that was as a rookie. Wood was their Keeper against Ron on the other team, Fred and George were the natural Beaters, and the others were to be Chasers.

Geoff tossed the very beaten and patched-up Quaffle high into the air, and the game began. Harry kicked off the parched dirt ground as hard as he could, zooming up into the air and searching for the snitch with beady eyes. Ginny was also sitting rather stationary on her broom on the other side of the field as Harry, eyes scanning the air around them for any sign of the tiny golden ball. Down below them, Angelina and Charlie were making straight for the hoops Ron was defending, deftly passing the Quaffle back and forth between each other. As they neared it, Angelina faked a pass to Charlie on her left and tossed it into the right goal hoop before Ron could turn himself back around. Soon after, a cheer erupted from their supporters.

Since there was no announcer, Harry was finding it difficult to keep track of the score while he was busy searching for the snitch. It grew so that whenever a cheer erupted, he would look down to see which side it was cheering, so he could determine who had scored. He flew up and around the house, still looking for the snitch with keen eyes, finding joy in playing his favorite game in the world after what had felt like such a long banishment. Looping back around the house to the field, he found George smash a bludger right at Charlie as he went to shoot, but Angelina swooped under him and snatched up the Quaffle. From where he was positioned behind the hoops Ron was defending, Harry could visibly see Ron tense up and Angelina swarmed towards him, and he suddenly lunged to the right and a second later had the Quaffle held up in his hand, and was chucking it downfield to Alicia.

Harry felt the urge to cheer but restrained himself since it was bad news for his team. Instead, he flew upwards again, high over the game, glancing around impatiently for the snitch. The sun was beginning to set below, casting a blood-red and purple glow over the ground, and the moon rose and began to shimmer all the more brightly, taking up the sun’s place.

Ginny flew closer to him, shouting, “Have you seen it yet? You don’t think it would have flown away, do you?”

“Nope, I…” Harry began, but then his attention was drawn to something else, as out of the corner of his eye he caught a glint of gold in a patch of trees. Without a second thought, he instinctively took off for the trees at full speed. He could hear Ginny behind him, gaining on the trees faster than him from her favored position. The crowd below noticed them taking off and Harry heard Hermione yell, “Go Harry!” at the top of her voice. He gripped his broom handle tighter and laid himself flat against the handle as he shot forward even faster into the thicket of branches, leaving Ginny straggling right behind him. The pokey braches cut at his arms and face, scratching him up, but he didn’t take notice; now that he was in the race, nothing mattered other than grabbing the snitch. The little golden ball fluttered ahead and darted around through the thick cluster of trees, escaping his grasp. It then disappeared down through the canopy and Harry gritted his teeth and plunged down after it, covering his face with an arm as a myriad of thin branches smacked against him, stinging his exposed skin like an army of angry bees. He kept his eyes squinted for protection but open enough to see that he was gaining on the ball. It got caught on a branch, giving Harry the advantage that he needed, and he extended his arm out as far as it would go and snatched up the snitch, ending the game in seclusion.

Looking up through the branches, he saw Ginny abandon her pursuit and find a way out of the grove, and Harry tried to find the easiest way out too. At the bottom a shaft of soft light poked through the branches, gathering in a little pool. However, there was no room to fly so he planted his feet on a thick branch and lowered his broom to the ground as far as he could before allowing it to drop a few feet in the end. He then climbed down the tree as swiftly as he could by using the hand the snitch wasn’t held in to balance. His shirt got snagged on some tiny protruding braches several times, tearing tiny holes in it before he was low enough to swing himself down to the ground. He then crawled out below the branches where there was a little opening and stood up as soon as he had cleared the overhang. He found himself on the other side of the large cluster of trees from the group, facing the sunset, which was now a brilliant combination of splashes of red, pink, gold, and purple. Smiling at the beautiful sight, he walked back around the trees to the other side, raising the snitch in his hand to signal the end of the game. Geoff saw him first and whistled for the game to end, just as Alicia was going to shoot. The players all looked around to see who had caught it, and soon his team was cheering loudly as were their supporters off to the side.

Ginny approached him from the spot nearby where she had just landed and held out her hand for him to shake. “Good game,” she said, as they customarily shook hands.

“You too,” Harry said. “You’re a great flyer, you know.”

“Thanks,” she replied, “But I’m nothing compared to you.”

Harry smiled uncomfortably while his team came over to thump him on the back in celebration.

As the crowd began to disperse, Harry found Ron dangling off to the side a little ways patiently.

“Hey Ron,” Harry said, “great game. You had some excellent saves there.”

“You think so?” Ron asked. “Thanks. Did you see when I caught Angelina’s shot? She tried to feint but I remembered that she liked doing that a lot so I swerved over and found I was right about her plans.”

“Yeah, I was right behind you that time, looking for the snitch.”

“I saw how scraped up your arms were- ouch.”

“I’m just glad my snitch didn’t get its wings caught up on some branches and torn.”

“Yeah. It’s too bad that Alicia and Angelina aren’t going to be on the team again this year. Any idea about who will fill the open positions?”

“Dunno. Hopefully there’s some good new talent in the younger years though, or else we’re doomed. Of course, we do have a Flash on our side now…even Malfoy won’t have one of those.”

“Yeah…yeah, we do. That’s bound to count for something. I’ve already improved from it, honestly I have. Let them try to get past me now.” Ron pounded his chest with his fist proudly. Then Bill called out his name from across the yard, and Ron set off toward him obediently.

Unable to resist, Harry hopped back on his broom for a quick ride around the tree cluster. He hugged the trees tight as he skimmed along the edges of the branches. When he touched back down again, he found Hermione standing there waiting for him to land. He hoisted his broom up onto his shoulder and headed over to her, smiling from the lasting effects of exhilaration.

“I watched you dive into the trees, but after that I couldn’t see anything,” Hermione said after congratulating him. “After about a minute or two, Ginny emerged, but it was impossible to tell what had happened to you.” Her eyes scanned his scraped arms and face and she winced. “Here, let me heal these…”

He stood still as she ran her hands gently over the cuts on his cheeks, and he cringed slightly when her hand brushed one. Then she pulled her wand out of her jean pocket and said, “Amenden ,” as she pointed it at his face, then his arms and legs. A minute later there was no trace of any blemish left on his skin.

“Wow. Thanks Hermione. I didn’t know you could do that.”

She smiled but kept her modest composure. “I just learned this summer, really. After everything that happened last year, I realized how unprepared we were to deal with injuries. But it isn’t that powerful,” she continued, looking slightly more downcast. “It can only mend minor cuts and the like- no internal injuries. A truly effective spell would be much harder to come by; only a few wizards have ever accomplished much when it comes to immediate, on-site treatment of injuries.”

Harry scoffed. “It’s still better than I can do, and it’s still useful.”

Hermione’s slight frown vanished from her brow and her lit up again. “Shall we join the others for the bonfire?”

“There’s a bonfire?” Harry said, heading across the yard with his Firebolt in hand.

“Well, there will be within the next few minutes. The Weasleys have a pit around to the back of the house.”

Upon approaching the pit, they found a fire already roaring, its color corresponding perfectly with the last remaining tendrils of orange and red still vaguely visible on the rim of the horizon. People were already gathering around on stumps and backless wooden benches that encircled the fire. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Mrs. Weasley, Dedalus, Tonks, Moody, and Kingsley all sat in chintz armchairs back a little ways from the fire which Harry suspected were produced by Dumbledore.

He and Hermione found a space open on the end of a bench and listened to Bill tell a creepy ghost story that was actually true, though at one time Harry would have believed it to be a simple scary fabrication. As Bill’s voice rang out through the air and everyone listened and enjoyed the story silently, darkness enveloped them until the only source of light left was the crackling fire.

“And nobody has heard any word of the prince since, though some say that there still remains a ghost deep in the woods of Romania who knows exactly what happened to him: the ghost of the prince himself.”

A shiver ran through every person as Bill’s story came to an end, and it was soon pushed aside by applause. Bill stood and took a bow. Then Mrs. Weasley stood and said, “Time to roast some marshmallows. Who’s up for one?”

Sixteen hands shot into the air at once. Harry had never roasted a marshmallow before in his life, but Dudley had tried to roast one over the living room fire once out of desperation for some after seeing some people on the television doing it (after being kicked out the living room for making a sticky mess all over the fireplace and floor, he resorted to cooking some in the microwave- an act not well thought over.)

The next few minutes were spent hunting for sticks to use as skewers and distributing marshmallows to everyone who wanted one. After brushing off the sticks to the best of their capabilities and shoving the marshmallows on, everyone took turns holding their sticks over the fire. Hermione, who had been camping before, patiently demonstrated how to rotate the stick like a rotisserie and avoid allowing the sweet white puffs to get too close to the flames. After one failed attempt, during which the marshmallow slid off the stick and burnt to a crisp in the fire, Harry got the hang of it and soon had a close-to-perfect golden brown morsel to eat. Ron, on the other hand, was not doing so well. After spending five precious minutes tenderly allowing his marshmallow to toast, an unexpected flame leaped up at it and in a matter of a second wrapped itself around it; Ron swore and blew on it hard until the fire went out, but by that point, the previously white marshmallow was charred black. He stared at it with slumped shoulders and a defeated creased brow.

“You can still eat it,” Hermione said and Ron replied by tearing his gaze away from his ruined masterpiece and frowning at her instead. “Never mind then,” she corrected, turning back to her own over the fire in order to avoid the same thing happening to it.

Ron made to dump it into the fire, but at the last second Seamus snatched it up, exclaiming, “I’ll take it!” and popped it into his mouth. Ron watched, dismayed, as Seamus wolfed it down and then proceeded to burn his own and repeat the process. He glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye but Harry just laughed and shrugged.

After everyone had their fill of marshmallows (apparently Seamus’ fill was 14), they all sat back calmly and watched the fire flicker. The flames of the fire licked at the sky like an assemblage of serpents shooting into the air with daring tongues stabbing out above themselves before shrinking back into the glowing embers in a retreat of a soft orange glow. They danced around the logs in brilliant flashes and streaks, throwing bursts of heat outwards into the warm summer air with every movement. Just one glance at the gleaming red underside of the logs, and Harry felt a trace of their heat in his fingertips as if he had actually reached his hand into the flames and touched them.

Presently, a log shifted, sending burning sparks soaring out at them. A couple of the ablaze ashes landed on Hermione’s lap, and Harry and Ron were both on it at once, brushing the burning remnants off her legs before she even had time to react herself.

“Did they burn you?” Harry asked, searching her jeans for scorched holes.

“No, I’m fine,” she said with a nervous laugh that seemed to release some of the tension she felt. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, as long as you’re alright then…” Ron said. He shot an apprehensive glance at the fire. “But perhaps we should scoot back a bit, just to be on the safe side in case it happens again.”

Towards the end of the night, Dumbledore rose and cast a spell on the fire, causing it to glow in colors unimaginable. It was like a mini fireworks display contained within the fire. There were many appreciative ‘ooos’ and ‘ahs’ that broke the otherwise silence of the calm night. At the end, as the dancing colors died down and everyone began to feel a bit tired, Fred and George lit one of their Catherine Wheels and allowed it to soar all over the sky.

At 2:00 a.m. people began to arrive by floo powder to pick the younger kids up, and the others all disapparated back home with a quick hug or a wave goodbye and a final wish of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Harry was sorry to see many of them go, as he was aware it would be a long time until he saw them again. At least he knew he was going back to Hogwarts with some of them, and knowing that helped a bit. The Weasleys, Hermione, Neville and he all worked for a while to help clean up the yard and the kitchen, then a few of them grabbed some of the gifts off the table and he, Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Neville, and Ginny each traveled back to Grimmauld Place through the floo.

As everyone arrived and headed groggily upstairs to drop the packages in Harry’s room, Harry held back in the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley.

“Mrs. Weasley?” he said.

“Yes dear?” she replied, turning from the sink and facing him.

He walked right up to her and wrapped his arms around her as far as they could reach and said faintly, “Thank you.”

She hugged him back and said, “It was nothing Harry. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” They released each other and Mrs. Weasley brought a dishrag up to the corners of her eyes. “Run along now, before you get me all teary-eyed.”

Harry grinned and followed her orders, heading back up to his room where he found a small pile of gifts and Ron and Hermione all awaiting him on the floor.

“Where’s Neville and Ginny?” Harry asked.

“They went to bed,” Ron said. He yawned. “Which I’m about to do as well. Hurry up.”

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you guys for any part you played in organizing the party. It was the best time of my life, my best birthday ever.”

Hermione and Ron smiled sleepily with droopy eyes. “We didn’t do much,” Ron told him, “basically made the guest list. It was mostly my mum’s doing.”

“Well, I thanked her already, but if you could mention to her how much I appreciate it, that’d be good.”
Ron nodded his head and then allowed himself to lie down on the blanket thrown hastily on the ground for them to sit on.

“Open mine first,” he yawned, “before I fall asleep. It’s the one with the newspaper wrapping.”

Harry searched through the pile and sure enough, one box was covered in random pages of the Daily Prophet. Tearing the moving pictures apart, Harry found a large bag of Fizzing Whizbees inside, accompanied by an entire bag of Nosebleed Nougats, Puking Pastilles, and Fainting Fancies from Fred and George’s shop.

“Thanks Ron; a whole new supply for the school year- excellent.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ron said, finally allowing himself to close his eyes. He was out cold in a matter of seconds, before Harry opened any of his other gifts.

“Open mine next Harry,” Hermione said, handing him a relatively small, narrow box. He took it, trying to guess what was inside but failing dismally; he would have never been able to guess. In the box lied a brand new, shiny quill. He looked at its handsome mahogany finish and dark, fluffy feather in a curious amazement and puzzlement.

“A quill...” he said, taking it out. He liked it a lot, but to be honest he had no need for another quill, as nice as this one was.

“It’s not just any quill,” Hermione said enthusiastically. “It’s an Automated Script Quill.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

“Here, let me show you,” she said, taking it and setting it down on the underside of the green wrapping paper that she had wrapped it in. Instead of writing with it, she set it down directly upright on the paper and then removed her hand, and the quill remained poised upright on the paper without any visible support.

Harry’s jaw slowly began to drop, and then fell open completely as he witnessed what happened next. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on the quill, and it suddenly began moving, all seemingly of its own accord. But then Harry realized that Hermione was controlling it with only her mind- telling it what to write. She stopped concentrating on the quill and allowed it to fall, and there on the paper was the neatly written phrase, “See- it’s not just any quill.”

“That’s amazing!” Harry exclaimed, taking the quill back in his hands.

Hermione smiled at his approval. “And that’s not all…” she continued, pointing at the script. “It writes in the handwriting of whoever is controlling it, so the professors will never know you’re using one.”

“Incredible! Wait a minute- are these against the rules then?”

Hermione shifted slightly where she sat. “Well…not technically. They only ban certain Quick Quills and things like that- not Automated Script Quills. So, you can’t really get in trouble; but I sill wouldn’t allow the teachers to see it if I was you, because they’d probably confiscate it.”

“I can still use it on all of my homework though,” Harry said, more to himself than to her.

Then her enthusiasm mounted again, as she said, “Well, not necessarily only on homework. You see, since I knew that would be a problem, and you’d probably not want too many people knowing you have one in the first place- they’re quite rare, you know; it took me forever to even find this one and it was the only one left available- so I added a little feature of my own. Just hold the quill tightly in your hand, really focus on what you’re going to do, and say, “concēlāre.”

As soon as she said the spell, the quill suddenly disappeared altogether, though Harry noticed her hand was still positioned oddly as if she held it. He watched, awestruck, as she said, “expōnere,” and the quill appeared again in her hand.

“You thought of that?” Harry said, still admiring it.

“Mhmm,” she replied, handing the quill back over.

“But, what if I lose it when it becomes invisible?” he asked, beginning to worry that he’d do just that out of clumsiness.

“Oh, it’s not a problem; if you cast the spell, then you can still see it. I thought of that too, knowing that you were bound to lose something invisible after a while.”

“It’s brilliant, Hermione,” Harry said, carefully placing the quill back in its leather carrying case. He then leaned over and gave her a huge, warm hug. As soon as their arms were wrapped tightly around each other, Harry found he didn’t really want to let go. However, the hug didn’t last long as Hermione pulled back and then curled up on the floor with her head near Ron’s.

“I’ll try to stay awake,” she said, stifling a yawn, “but I’m not promising anything.”
He set to opening the rest of the packages, though his eyes kept traveling over his quill and Hermione, with her eyes closed peacefully on the ground beside him. Before long she had fallen asleep, and Harry allowed himself to watch her chest rise and fall with her calm breathing. A few minutes later, a Quidditch Players Collection Card Set with a lot of autographs scribbled on the trading cards, including Krum’s, Troy’s and Wood’s; a bag of special owl treats for Hedwig; some rock-hard handheld cakes; a bag of Dungbombs; two of Fred and George’s latest inventions: two miniature vials with blue liquid and green liquid that would, when a few drops were poured into someone’s drink, cause them to lose their voice for an hour or yell out an insult at the first teacher they approached; a new set of potion vials; a t-shirt with a lion emblem sewn on; a wrist watch that could tell the time anywhere in the world on command; a few new Defense Against the Dark Arts spell books; a grey knit cap sewn by Dobby; and-to his surprise- a spell book on Advanced Charms from Professor Dumbledore, all lay at his feet. He barely had time to register what he had received before he lied down with his head near Ron and Hermione’s and fell fast asleep.

August passed by too quickly for Harry’s liking, but it was enjoyable just the same. They finished reading through all of their text books; many days were spent taking turns reading aloud to one another. However, as the school year neared, Harry found himself looking forward to returning to Hogwarts; being stuck in Grimmauld Place was beginning to nag at him.

They all awoke early on the morning of September 1^st, wolfed down a quick breakfast, grabbed their trunks and other various belongings, and headed out to a Ministry Car with an Expanding charm placed on the interior. Harry had read about how to cast that spell in his new Charms book, which he had enjoyed skimming through. As soon as Hermione had seen it, she had gone nuts over it, reading every page religiously with sharp eyes. After a smooth car ride through the city, with Kingsley driving, they reached Kings Cross and shoved their way out of the car and grabbed their trunks from the back. Kingsley, who had to return to work, said a quick goodbye and then hopped back into the car again and zoomed off. They had half an hour before the train departed, so they dawdled for a little while in the station, posing as a group for a picture for Mrs. Weasley and purchasing drinks from a concession stand. Then they took turns passing through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, cautious not to draw attention to themselves.

Harry and Ron went through together, and the sight of the scarlet steam engine billowing steam and whistling impatiently was enough to bring a smile to Harry’s face. They all said goodbye to Mrs. Weasley and thanked her for her hospitality, though she insisted that it was Harry’s house, not hers, so no thanks were necessary. Then they walked down the length of the train, searching for an empty compartment, and found one near the middle of the train. After hauling their trunks up the steps and shoving them under their seats, Ron and Hermione announced they had to start their rounds for prefect duty.

“Who knows how long we’ll be,” Hermione said, dragging her robes and Prefect badge out of her trunk. “But if I was you, I wouldn’t hold my breath. I heard that, being 6^th years, we have a long shift.”

“Ugh, I hate prefect duties,” Ron said, scowling as he attached his badge to his robe front. “It takes up so much bloody time. I mean, we aren’t even at school yet and we’re already being sent to work.”

“Stop complaining, Ron. It’s a responsibility that you were absolutely brimming about last year- they’re not going to say ‘oh, now that you’re 6^th years, you don’t have any duties- but keep the badge and the title’. Besides, it’s also an honor to some degree.”

“Yeah- an honorable pain-in-the-rear.”

Hermione turned a stern look on him but he simply smirked and she turned away again, ignoring him.

“Alright, see you lot later. Maybe I’ll run into Goyle and find an excuse to deduct points. Or Crabbe…or Nott…Anyway, grab something off the trolley for me, will you?” he asked Harry.

“Sure…I’ll c’ya later.”

Ron and Hermione both left the compartment and slid the door closed behind them. However, before they got very far, they bumped into someone walking straight ahead without caring to look where she was going. Harry heard the faint “Ronald” Luna muttered and watched as Ron flattened himself against the wall and sidled past her with a quick “hello.” A few seconds later the compartment door slid open once again and Luna came bobbing in, dragging her trunk behind her. She had abandoned her radish earrings, and opted for a pickle necklace instead. Her bright blonde hair was pinned up in a messy lopsided bun behind her, crazy hairs sticking out from every angle. She had her wand behind her ear like a pencil, and carried a copy of the Quibbler in one hand.

“Great weather we’re having today isn’t it?” she said brightly, before even saying a simple ‘hello.’

Harry looked through the window and out at the grey sky with dark clouds rolling in.

“There’s room for your trunk over here, Luna,” Ginny said, shoving Harry’s trunk over with her foot and leaving room for Luna to sit next to him. Wanting to get a window seat, Harry scooted over towards the window with his trunk.

“So, did you hear about Fudge?” Luna said, after they were all situated.

“No. What about him?” Ginny asked.

“They found him hiding on the Galapagos Islands, with the Komodo Dragons.”

“Did they really?” Ginny responded.

Neville spoke up, arguing against it. “No, they didn’t. My Gran says that rumor is rubbish. I don’t think they’re ever going to find him, unfortunately.”

“They have pictures!” Luna exclaimed, waving her copy of the Quibbler upside down in Neville’s face.

Ginny snatched it out of Luna’s hands and flipped through to the article on Fudge impatiently.

“There’s nothing in here but some man’s backside in a tropical forest!”

“No, that’s Fudge. He likes living with the lizards, because he can talk to them.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow and handed the magazine back to Luna.

“Is there such a thing? Talking to lizards, I mean,” Harry said.

“Of course,” Luna said, looking at him as if he was the stupidest person on the face of the earth. “I just said Fudge can talk to them, didn’t I?”

With that Luna buried her face in the magazine and Ginny shook her head ‘no’ fervently.

The train lurched to a start, wheels churning and the whistle blowing as it started out of the station. Harry watched the platform pass by with growing excitement, eager to be back at Hogwarts again, despite the school work that accompanied his residency. Nine hours passed by with random discussions and a stop of the food trolley. Since Ron had neglected to return, he purchased a bag of Bertie Bott’s Beans and a couple Chocolate Frogs for him. As time passed, he began to feel a little more groggy, and spent all of his time wondering what classes he would be assigned to, what the new first years would be like, if he would be allowed to play Quidditch again, and how much time Ron and Hermione would have to spend without him on their Prefect duties this year. He hoped it wasn’t much.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews so far. As you’ve probably already seen, I’m responding to them individually on the review page, so you won’t see any personalized ‘thanks’ in the story. Yeah, I realize this one was really long. Did you like it? Please be as specific as you possibly can be.

Chapter 14- A Leader Emerges

Harry pulled his hood over his head, crossing his arms and leaning back in the seat, attempting to fall asleep. For all he knew, Ron and Hermione wouldn't be back until the end of the trip, and he didn't really feel up to talking to Luna about yellow-bellied ruptites. Outside, he could just make out a solid row of trees on either side of the train, rows of black towers amidst the grey dusk sky. Neville and Ginny continued to nod their heads along to Luna's airy deliverance, as their eye-lids drooped. Slowly, Luna's voice became a muffled blur in Harry's head, as he fell to sleep….

He watched on in horror as Neville released his robes. “Come on, you can do better than that!” Beams of multi-colored light flew back and forth between a witch with long black hair and Sirius, standing up on the archway's platform. A jet of light smashed into Sirius's chest. His smile faded as his eyes grew wide and he stumbled backward, falling so slowly…. How could anyone fall so slowly? Wicked laughter rang through the air. Harry tried to scream Sirius' name, but as he felt his throat tearing open, no sound came out. Sirius hit the black veil, causing it to ripple even more, as he fell back through it. Harry tried to sprint down the benches, still silently screaming Sirius' name, but an arm grabbed him, holding him back. Harry whipped his head up to see Lupin, smiling sadly. “Sorry, Harry. He's gone. Nothing more we can do.” Bellatrix's cackling face spun around in front of him. “Nothing more we can do….”

Harry jerked awake, breathing heavily and sweating. He looked around the compartment, where he found Luna with her face pressed against the window, and Ginny was standing with her head out the door, looking down the hall.

It was just a dream.

“Are you alright Harry?” Neville asked, looking at him with a look of concern on his face.

“Fine,” Harry lied. “Just had a bad dream is all.” If only it was just a dream.

“Alright,” Neville said, looking back out the window.

It was then Harry registered something odd was going on. He followed the other's gazes out the window, trying to spot what they were looking at.

“What's going on?” he asked, craning his neck to see over Luna's head.

Neville turned back to him. “The train has stopped,” he said nervously.

Just then, a piercing scream rang throughout the entire train, and Harry bolted upright and made his way towards the door, leaning over Ginny in order to get a better view down the hall.

“What was that?” Neville squeaked, wide eyes staring towards the door.

“I'm not sure, but something's definitely wrong,” Harry said, trying to figure out what was going on.

Outside, rain pounded against the windows, drowning out every noise except the worried murmurs escaping everyone's lips. Harry peered out the window across the hall, and to his surprise saw a large group of people heading away from the train in lines.

“It looks like they're evacuating the train,” Harry said, confused.

Just then, the cabin door at the end of the hall jerked open and McGonagall stepped through, yelling out, “Everyone must evacuate the train now and head towards the forest, as quickly as possible.”

“What's Professor McGonagall doing here?” Ginny asked, and Harry wondered the same thing.

Ernie MacMillan yelled out to McGonagall, “What's going on?” as everyone bustled around grabbing their coats in frenzy.

Harry strained his ears to hear McGonagall's response but all she said was, “No time for explanations. Just get moving!” before she turned around and headed back into the neighboring cabin.

“I don't like this; I don't like this at all!” Neville said, as the four shoved their way down the hall towards the exit along with everyone else. At this point everyone was talking nervously, sharing theories about what was happening. However, Harry couldn't shake this suspicious feeling he had in the pit of his stomach that something weird was going on. It did not feel right for the train to suddenly stop and to have them all evacuate without an explanation as to why they needed to. He needed to find Hermione and Ron, as soon as they got off the train. He tightened his hood around his head, as he was shoved in the chaotic group through the narrow door and out onto the sopping ground. He looked around and found several other groups of students heading swiftly towards the dim forest. Many were gasping and pointing over their shoulders towards the train. Harry turned around and found what they were all pointing at. Floating over an end compartment was an eerie, green smoke skull with a serpent winding its way out of the skull's mouth: the Dark Mark.

“Harry!” Hermione and Ron came running up to him.

Ron looked around them curiously as Hermione said, “Harry, something isn't right here.” She paused to catch her breath. “Why are McGonagall and Flitwick here, but not Dumbledore? Doesn't that seem a bit odd?”

Harry nodded his head enthusiastically, still looking all about him, squinting through the pouring rain. McGonagall and Flitwick were standing off to the sides, looking all around them, watching the students filing into the forest.

“Shouldn't we get away from here, and head into the forest?” Ron asked timidly, staring at the green skull in horror.

“No,” Harry said forcefully. “We need to figure out what's going on first; I don't trust anything that's happening right now. I don't know why, but I have this feeling there's something going on that we don't know about.”

Meanwhile, a group of students who were in Dumbledore's Army with him quickly wandered over to where he, Hermione, and Ron all stood near the train.

“Did you hear?” Katie Bell spat out as soon as the group approached.

“Hear what?” Ron asked, though Harry continued looking all around them.

“A student was killed!” she shrieked, “on the train! We shouldn't stay here…. the Dark Mark….”

Then Harry spotted something that made him stop dead. On the edge of the woods Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle stood in a close cluster. Someone's lit wand tip momentarily cast a glow of light on their faces as the wand's owner scrambled into the forest and Harry saw that instead of being frightened, each of their faces were quite smug.

“Hold on…” he said, trying frantically to make sense of what was going on. The group stood near him, waiting for him to instruct them. He glanced from Malfoy back to the teachers, who were still looking all around them as if looking for something in particular…Suddenly a strident scream rang through the air, radiating from deep within the forest. Harry felt everyone standing around him turn simultaneously towards the forest and hold their breaths. Someone grabbed his sweater sleeve as several other screams of different pitches followed it, growing in volume until the screams drowned out every sound of rain- rain that was steadily turning into ice as the temperature abruptly dropped drastically.

Harry's brain churned at a rapid pace as he put everything together and shouted, “IT'S A TRAP!”

He took off at once, sprinting towards the forest, the others hot on his heels, leaving the train and skull far behind them. He shouted instructions as they ran together, everyone around him withdrawing their wands as one would pull a sword out of its sheathe.

“I hope you've all practiced your Patronus spells, because you're going to need them!” he yelled breathlessly as they ran, ice drops smashing against their heads.

He breathed deep as he held his wand out in front of him, charging into the chilled forest, but a hand unexpectedly seized him from behind, halting him mid-stride and jerking him back. He stumbled but the person caught him, as everyone else ran on past them. He wrenched himself angrily around to face whoever caught him, and found Hermione frowning at him restlessly with rosy cheeks.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Harry asked, baffled by her behavior.

She grabbed his arm and half-led, half-dragged him off to the side, before pulling him down in some bushes. She kept a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him down as he tried to scramble upwards again.

“Harry, listen to me!” she hissed. He stopped struggling for a moment and listened to her curiously. “The Death Eaters are obviously involved in this, and what could they possibly want, setting a pack of Dementors on everyone?”

“I don't know,” Harry puffed, “Maybe to kill off another batch of un-loyal wizards?”

“No. I'll tell you what they want. They want you.”

He looked at her like she was mad, but as he did so her statement dawned on him as true.

“You can not been seen!” she rasped, releasing his shoulder.

He remained crouched down, and peered out between the braches, where he saw many bright lights emanating in the forest, as the others cast their Patronuses. “Then where are they? I haven't seen any Death Eaters around here.”

Hermione took on a look of deep concentration as she furrowed her eyebrows. “I have no idea…” she whispered. She examined the scene around them through a gap between branches, as Harry was. “Wait…” she said, a new look of comprehension replacing the confusion. “I think I do! Just wait here!”

She dove out of the back of the bush as Harry yelled after her, “What are you doing?” She ignored him as she crept around the edge of the forest, dodging between the trees.

Harry followed her movements inquiringly, praying that whatever she was doing worked. Screams continued to ring through the forest, accompanied with sporadic flashes of light. He watched nervously as Hermione, while hidden by trees, approached Flitwick and McGonagall, who were both hovering near the forest, almost as if hesitant to enter it, despite the screaming.

What is she doing? Harry thought to himself, watching her cautiously approach the two teachers from behind. The Death Eaters weren't over there… unless… Panic seared through Harry as he sprang from the bush and began running swiftly through the forest. He came towards where the teachers were just as a spell shot out of Hermione's wand from the shadow she was concealed in, and Flitwick fell stiffly to the cold ground, held firm within a tangle of binding ropes. As soon as Flitwick was hit, McGonagall spun around and raised her wand toward Hermione's spot in the forest. Without even thinking, Harry pointed his wand directly at McGonagall and yelled, “Concutere!” as a stream of black light blasted at her back, hitting her head-on. McGonagall collapsed to the ground haphazardly, lying in a crumpled heap as Flitwick continued to wriggle around. Hermione lit her wand tip and looked across the clearing at Harry, mouth agape. He motioned for her to come over and she jumped over Flitwick and ran over to him.

“Thanks,” she said, as soon as she met up with him.

“Don't mention it,” he replied casually as the two continued into the forest together. There was still some screaming going on and the two tripped over tree roots several times before finding themselves at the site of the chaos. Harry stopped dead as he looked about him. All around the area in front of him there were bodies of students lying on the ground, unconscious. The D.A. members were still working together to fend off the Dementors- there must have been fifty of them- from the other students. Some of the older students were carrying bodies into a cluster where the D.A. members surrounded them in a circle. However, it looked to Harry as though they were growing tired; the spell was taking a toll on them all. Neville was on his knees, trying to feebly cast the spell, and many others were standing on wobbly legs. Harry and Hermione looked at each other momentarily before they ran towards the group as fast as their legs would carry them. He tried to clear his increasingly foggy mind as they approached the weaning group, searching for the happiest thought he possessed. Continuing to run, he settled on the fact that he was back in the magic world again with Hermione and Ron, and stopped a ways from the cluster. Next to him, Hermione raised her wand, but he held out his arm to tell her to stop as he summoned his powerful thought and roared, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!!” A silver stag erupted from the end of his wand, charging at the group of chilling Dementors, pushing them away from the students. The stag galloped around the circle, herding the Dementors away, as Harry held on to the spell, though he felt himself slowly weakening. Eventually the stag chased them all away, as the Dementors swooped away into the dark sky. He lowered his wand as the stag cantered off to the edge of the group and dissolved into a disappearing mist. He found his legs shaking beneath him, and he stumbled backward where Hermione caught him, wrapping her arm around him to help him stand.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I just need a few seconds to regain my strength,” he breathed. Observing the group, he saw many students passed out on the ground, and about the other sixty percent watching him in awe. He felt his chilled face burn red as he found them all staring at him, and murmured, “It's fine- I can stand on my own Hermione.”

She released him as he yelled out to the group, “Everyone who can, grab someone nearby who is unconscious and carry them out of the forest.”

A few of the Slytherins cast him looks of disgust, but Ernie Macmillan, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Ron all found someone around them and lifted them into their arms. Soon the other Gryffindors followed suit, trailed by the Hufflepuffs and then Ravenclaws; even a few Slytherins helped hoist someone onto their shoulders. He and Hermione led the others out of the woods, dragging their feet. Katie Bell and a friend of hers Harry recognized as Dayna Schoenmacker came up to him and offered their assistance.

“Yeah, I know how you can help,” Harry told them, as they all walked on. “Can you two Apparate to the school and alert Dumbledore?”

“But McGonagall and Flitwick are already here…” Dayna began with a look of mingled confusion and curiosity written on her face.

“Hold on a minute…” Katie said, suddenly looking all around her as they walked. “Where are those two anyway? They never came in to help, as far as I saw.”

“The professors were never here,” Hermione snorted.

Katie and Dayna opened their mouths as if to speak, but seeing this, Harry cut them off.

“Just please, hurry. We'll all wait just inside the forest for you to get back. We'll explain later.”

“Oh, come on,” Dayna whined, but Katie grabbed her arm, casting her a stern look, and Dayna shrugged before the two Disapparated.

“Why do you want to wait in the forest?” Hermione asked, stepping over a knobby tree root.

“To keep out of the rain as much as possible,” Harry said, as they halted near the edge of the forest, Ron stopping directly behind them.

Ron carefully laid the tiny Ravenclaw first year on the ground and slumped back against a tree. “I wish I had some chocolate,” he grumbled.

Harry sat against a large tree right on the invisible border line where the forest left off and the expansive grass clearing began. The forest sheltered them from the worst of the weather, which had turned back into a dreary rain. Though he said that was the reason he wanted to stay in the forest, the truth was that he still felt a little nervous stranded out here with the two disabled Death Eaters, a whole strew of unconscious students, and rumors of a dead girl on the train, lying under the bright green skull that continued to loom above. Although he felt foolish to admit it even to himself, he felt like he wouldn't be comfortable until Dumbledore was around.

They sat there for a few minutes, waiting. Tension was still thick in the air as contagious nerves bounced around within the assembly. Harry's limbs still felt heavy and his head remained a bit foggy, like one of Trelawney's crystal balls- only the fog refused to clear and offer him insight into the future.

“Harry!” Hermione exhaled, seizing his arm and pointing over his shoulder out into the clearing. “I think something's moving out there!”

He struggled to make out what she was saying through the swirling fog, turning his head to find what she was addressing. Then he saw it too, and his head suddenly became much clearer. Out in the clearing, down about a mile along the forest perimeter two dark figures moved around, darting swiftly out of the forest. Affirming his initial fears, Harry saw the two hooded strangers heading toward the detained Death Eaters they had left carelessly on the ground.

“Argh,” he groaned, formulating a plan swiftly in his mind. If they didn't do something soon, the Death Eaters were going to get away, and their true identities would remain unknown. He made to at least run closer, but Ron and Hermione both held him back.

“Are you mad?” Ron said discouragingly, ripping him back to the ground. “You can't just go running out there.”

Noticing the commotion, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Ginny looked up from where they were sitting nearby. It had only been a few seconds but the hooded figures were only feet from their comrades, and every instinct in Harry cried out to at least fire rapid-aiming spells in their direction, but Hermione had a different agenda.

“We need to move!” she rasped impatiently, color draining from her face as she began running through the mass, yelling out to everyone to move as quickly as possible, away from the Death Eaters.

“What is she doing?!” Ron said incredulously, as he hoisted up the Ravenclaw girl into his arms again and fought to keep up with Hermione, running with the stream of panicked people.

“She's right- we have to get everyone to move!” Harry said back, glancing over his shoulder at the black figures, which were through bending over the thrashing impersonation of Flitwick and were heading rapidly in the direction of the forest where everyone had been sitting moments before.

Hermione came running back against the flow of stampeding students, being knocked around in the process, until she reached Harry and huffed, “You have to hide- right away. Just run as fast as you can or something…”

But as soon as Harry began to climb a nearby tree, there were several corresponding CRACKS that he distinguished as sounds of people apparating. Everyone stopped running and looked around, out into the clearing. Looking between the tree branches, Harry saw Dumbledore moving quicker than he had ever seen him move before, directly over to where the inert Death Eaters still lay; Dumbledore was followed closely by several teachers, including Snape, Madam Pompfry, Sprout, Hagrid, and the real professors McGonagall and Flitwick. However, there was another loud CRACK as a lone figure dressed in a flowing black cloak unexpectedly appeared at the sides of the impersonators, and in one swift movement waved his cloak over the two bodies and all three disappeared without a sign. A couple more quick cracks from a few feet away in the forest told Harry that their pursuers had Disapparated as well.

He sighed in relief and disappointment as he jumped back to the ground. People began to timidly file out from underneath the damp trees, continuing to support the unconscious victims of the Dementors. Hermione cast him a half-hearted smile as if to say “It's all over” as they marched weakly out into the pouring rain.

Seeing the group emerging from the forest, the teachers headed over at once. All of them were ashen-faced, looking around with sharp eyes as if taking inventory of the students. Upon viewing the many limp bodies bore by various people, McGonagall shot her hands up to her mouth and Snape stopped dead where he stood. Dumbledore, however, continued to look the students up and down naturally, though Harry saw the burning look he saw last year in his powerful eyes, and he felt his righteous anger flooding out of him. Dumbledore continued to steadily scan all of the students until his sharp eyes fell upon Harry, standing in the middle of the group, and his eyes softened drastically. Harry nodded at him slightly in acknowledgement.

“Headmaster!” McGonagall suddenly shrieked, wild eyes stretching open even wider than before, as she pointed towards the green skull above the train.

Snape and Dumbledore turned abruptly towards the train, and Harry noticed Snape compulsively seize his left forearm in his hand.

“Everyone, wait here,” Dumbledore commanded, in his powerful yet calming voice. “Severus, Minerva, come with me.”

Snape nodded curtly and set off at a brisk pace towards the train, accompanied by a squirmy McGonagall and firm Dumbledore.

“Oh my,” Madam Pompfry sighed, assessing her students. “Let me see here,” she said, examining a passed-out Hufflepuff girl with short brown pig-tails.

Professors Sprout and Flitwick began rounds, checking that everyone was still in a stable condition, and handing out small chunks of chocolate they had brought with them.

“All right there Harry?” Hagrid said, coming over to him as people scooted out of his way and smiling warmly.

“I'm alright,” Harry replied, though he found he could not return Hagrid's smile. He wasn't alright. The Death Eaters had just evaded capture, again, and Malfoy's haughty face was still haunting him.

“Tha's good, tha's good,” Hagrid mumbled absently. “Hermione? Ron?”

Hermione nodded a yes and Ron croaked, “Fine,” with a sickly face.

“It's just `orrible what `append,” Hagrid said, glancing around, looking like he was about to hurl. “Can't believe it, neither. Yeh shoulda seen Dumbledore's face when Katie and Dayna ran into the school, all wet, yellin' about Dementors and what-not. He didn' even wait for `em to say another word; he just bolted upright and headed as swift as a fox outta the Great Hall. Hardly ever seen `im as worried, `specially knowing you was out here, Harry.” He paused and looked up apprehensively towards the Death Eater symbol. “I never thought I'd see that again. Haven't seen it in years, and I never wanted to see it again.” He shuddered. “Ah, look, here comes Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore was marching back from the train, though Snape and McGonagall were still on it. He walked up to where the four stood and spoke to Hagrid.

“Do you by any chance, Hagrid, have some items that may be used as temporary portkeys?”

“Why, o' course I do.” He began patting his coat, withdrawing any object he came across (including a pair of enormous dragon-hide gloves, a bent spoon, a handkerchief, and a ratty copy of the book “Befriending Brutal Beasts”). “Here yeh go,” he said, handing them over to Dumbledore.

“Thank you Hagrid; I will be sure to return them to you later this evening.” Then he cleared his throat to quiet everyone, and soon everyone's eyes were turned eagerly onto him. “If we could now all split into five groups in order to take some portkeys to the school, it would be highly appreciated. I can assure you all that an explanation will be given at the feast, which will still be held tonight on the account of our un-sorted new students.” Many people began licking their lips in expectation of the feast, as everyone grouped into five clusters. There was a tap on Harry's shoulder, and he looked up to see Dumbledore looking at him with dead eyes, devoid of their usual twinkle. “I would like to speak to you after dinner, Harry,” he whispered, only loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Sure,” Harry said, stomach churning nervously while he continued to stare at Dumbledore's eyes.

Dumbledore gave Harry a quick half-smile and then headed off to a group standing further away, ready to leave, tapping the spoon as he went.

“I can't believe I'm saying this,” Ron began, as Harry stopped watching Dumbledore and joined his friends in a group. “But I really don't think I'm that hungry.”

“Me neither,” Seamus said, disappointedly.

“Hey, that was a great Patronus Harry,” Dean offered, thumping Harry on the back.

Harry felt his cheeks grow red again as he shuffled back and forth from leg to leg self-consciously. “Thanks, but it was nothing.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, whatever you say man. I couldn't do that if I practiced every day for a whole year.”

Harry felt his pride glow deep within him, but recognizing it and feeling guilty, he took on a harsher front. “Yeah, well it's not exactly something to celebrate about, when I do have to use it.”

It was Dean's turn to flush as he looked toward the ground and muttered, “Yeah, I know.”

There was an awkward silence during which Harry avoided everyone's eye contact, looking around as the fourth group disappeared in a flash. Then Dumbledore wandered over to their group, holding out the book in front of him and turning it into a portkey. However, as he approached and Harry looked back at the eerie train once more, he caught sight of McGonagall and Snape carrying a lumpy board covered with a white sheet draped over it out of the back of the train. He felt a sudden lump rise in his throat as he watched them solemnly carry it around to the other side of the train, and a tiny limp arm showed through, hanging there lifeless.

“Harry, hurry up,” Hermione said, as they all stood oblivious to the body with their hands on the book, waiting for him. He somberly reached out his hand and touched the edge of the cover, before he felt that uncomfortable tug below his naval and they were whisked away.

A/N: Thanks for the continued support. I love how many hits I'm getting and I love your kind reviews even more- they're excellent quality! Whether or not you liked this, could you please leave a review stating why (specifically.) It's cool if you didn't like it… maybe I did something non-satisfactory. It's even better if you liked it though! I promised you action… think this was enough for a short while? Was it realistic? Could you picture the setting and everything going on?

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Chapter 15- The New Gryffindor

The force of the abrupt landing caused their knees to give away, and they all fell to the ground in a messy pile in the Entrance Hall. As soon as they landed, some teachers came rushing up to them with towels and warming spells. Before long, Harry was almost completely dry, though his clothes were still moist. They were then ushered directly into the Great Hall, without so much as time to change into their robes.

“Your belongings will be fetched and you will find them in your dormitories in the morning. Now, I don't suspect the feast will last long; but in spite of what has happened, let us all give a warm welcome to our new students, and try to make them feel more comfortable!” cried Nearly Headless Nick from above their heads.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all ventured down the length of the table to the end near the professors' table in hopes of getting a better view of the Sorting Ceremony.

“I hope the new Gryffindors are up to scratch,” Ron said, as they sat down. “I would hate for all of our points to be worthless, because some little ones keep messing everything up.”

“Ron!” Hermione scorned. “I'm sure they'll be fine.”

“I'm just saying- I wouldn't want to lose the House Cup after keeping hold of it for so long, nor the Quidditch Cup for that matter.”

“I really think that all of these awards just fuel the tension between the houses; we should be rid of them,” Hermione remarked.

Ron gaped at her. “Rid of them?! Then what's the point of doing anything extra, or even being in the house you're in? Besides, you can't just get rid of the Quidditch Cup; that would be the same as getting rid of Quidditch! It's preposterous!”

“I'm just saying that Dumbledore should take heed to the Sorting Hat's warnings, because if he doesn't, I have a bad feeling that the tension between the houses will only grow and become more violent this year.” She glanced over at the Slytherin table as she said this. Malfoy saw them looking and held up a picture of a Dark Mark he had drawn, and pointed from it to Hermione, laughing.

“Forget about it, Hermione,” Harry soothed, glaring at Malfoy. “He's full of empty threats.”

The immense doors at the entrance to the Great Hall swung open, and a small procession entered the room, led by Dumbledore and the other teachers who had yet to sit at the table, and followed by a tiny group of students. The new students shuffled in nervously, fully aware they were under everyone's gaze, and stopped up at the front of the hall near the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore didn't even bother sitting down; he strode right up to his seat and addressed the silent hall.

“The first years are about to be sorted into their houses. In light of the events of this evening, I think it wise to be thankful for everyone's presence, rather than for the food. Before we begin celebration of any kind, however, there is something I must tell you all. On the train this evening, a young girl by the name of Amanda Siuniack was found dead under the Dark Mark.”

There were horrified gasps from all over the room, and Harry turned and looked at Malfoy again, who caught his eye and smiled smugly.

“It will come to no surprise to most,” he continued, causing a silence to fall upon the room once more. “That she was Muggle-born. We all know Lord Voldemort has now returned, and the Ministry has indeed distributed safety pamphlets. However, a little booklet with a handful of defensive spells is not all that we need. We need bravery, courage, friendship, and most of all…unity. Lord Voldemort's powers are strong, and his influence is even greater. In order to resist, you must remain true to yourself, and each other. Reach out to others more, unite as one and form a bond, or else perish in the dark.”

His voice rang out and echoed off the stone walls and ceiling.

“Let us honor Amanda in this feast: an innocent ripped from amongst us. And let us all keep in mind: no matter whom we are, if you cut us open, we bleed the same red blood, no matter our lineage. Do not forget that.”

He raised his glass and everyone followed suit, toasting the memory of someone nobody even knew. Though Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy's glass remained planted firmly on the table.

The first years were more fidgety than any group who had come before them, and Harry thought they had a right to be. Even he, who was frankly becoming almost used to tragedies, was appalled by the murder. Of course, he also thought that leaving out the part of the impersonating Death Eaters was a questionable move on Dumbledore's part. Sure, the students shouldn't feel like they were in constant danger from their professors like he, and he was certain Ron and Hermione, felt now; however, he didn't think Dumbledore should be withholding any information from them either. He sipped at his drink in thought, unconsciously toning out the Sorting Ceremony. His hands clapped along with everyone else's as someone clambered over to the Hufflepuff table, but he didn't even hear the name. The image of the limp arm kept replaying over and over again in his mind, and every time he thought about the dead girl, he thought about how she was Muggle-born. This brought him to glance at Hermione every few seconds, and occasionally over at Malfoy's lot.

Another cheer erupted again, and Harry smacked his hands together a couple of times unenthusiastically. Then the clamor died down again, and his thoughts wandered back to what had happened just an hour earlier. He tried to guess who the Death Eaters had been, and began wondering how Hermione guessed they were after him so quickly, even though she didn't know about the Prophecy yet. Not yet…

“Evans, Mark!”

And they wouldn't know until… Hold on… Harry thought, jerking his neck towards the group of students. A tiny boy with short auburn hair shuffled forward. Harry felt his heart suddenly racing as he watched the boy come forward and turn to sit on the stool. It couldn't be….Surely it wasn't?

But it was. There on the stool, the Sorting Hat shoved onto his head so that it covered his eyes, was Harry's neighbor: Mark Evans.

Harry found that he was holding his breath, and fought to exhale. The hat muttered something quietly so that nobody could hear, and Harry kept his eyes fixed on Mark, transfixed.

The Sorting Hat moved around on his head once more, muttered something else, and then announced, “Gryffindor!”

A loud cheer erupted from all around Harry, but he couldn't even manage to lift his hands. Mark took off the hat and wandered over to their table, smiling unsurely.

Harry finally managed to find his voice. “Mark?” he said.

Mark, Hermione, and Ron all turned their heads in his direction at once. Mark took a step back when he saw Harry, and almost tripped. Then he began smiling as his green eyes lit up and he replied, “Harry? Is that really you?”

He came up and Harry made room for him next to him. They both began laughing happily at such a wonderful surprise; it felt like they were being re-united after a long time apart, even though it had only been about a month.

“How are you doing Mark?” he asked. Ron and Hermione continued to watch them curiously.

“I'm fine- I'm great now, actually. Have you gotten a load of this place? Does this mean you're a wizard too?”

“Yeah- I've been here for five years already. I had no idea that you had magic in you…I…”

“Neither did I, until I got my letter. My parents weren't too happy about it though.” He frowned a deep frown that seemed too old and heavy for such a youthful face to wear. “I don't know if they'll let me come back home again. But hey,” he continued, forcing a smile back onto his face again. “You're here! That's great! I was worried I wouldn't fit in here since I didn't know anybody.”

“Don't worry about making friends; we're in the same house now, so we'll see a lot of each other and maybe even have some of the same friends.”

“Eh-hem,” Ron cleared his throat from across the table.

“Oh- sorry. Mark, these are my two good friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mark said.

“Mark lives near Privet Drive. We've hung out a few times over the summer.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, as if to say, `that explains a little.' “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, good to meet you,” Ron added.

“So, do you actually learn real magic here, and stuff?” Mark asked, looking up at the enchanted ceiling in awe.

“Yeah…we really do,” Ron said, casting Harry a `what's wrong with this guy' glance.

Harry returned a look telling Ron to drop it.

“I can't believe this wand,” Mark continued, pulling it out of his pocket. “Unicorn hair, 11 inches, holly, they told me. Will I learn any spells soon?”

“Yep. You start classes right away, and after a little bit of theory you jump into practical stuff,” Harry told him.

Mark's eyes were sparkling so much that Harry thought if all the lights were turned off, they'd glow in the dark.

“Hey, wait until you see Quidditch,” Harry said.

“What's Quidditch?”

“It's the wizard sport, played on brooms. I'll explain it to you later; maybe after you learn how to fly, Ron and I can show you a few tricks of the trade.”

“Me? Learn how to fly?! Unbelievable!”

Harry couldn't help smiling at the boy's sincerity.

As soon as the Sorting ceremony wrapped up (“Zuton, Christine” became a new Gryffindor), food magically appeared on the gold plates in front of them. Seamus got a hungry look in his eye and began loading up his plate with a bit of everything, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione all refused to eat.

Ron watched Seamus stuff his face longingly. “If only I didn't feel so sickened…”

“You're not the one who saw the girl's arm,” Harry said as the image replayed in his mind again. “I saw it when McGonagall and Snape carried her off the train.”

Mark, who had been eyeing all of the dishes with amazement, looked down at his lap. “Professor McGonagall told us before she brought us in. I met that girl, on the train. She was pretty nice.”

They spent the rest of the meal in silence, submerged so deep in their own thoughts that they managed to not hurl all over the other fools' dinners.

When they stood to head up to their warm awaiting beds, Dumbledore approached Harry.

“We'll leave our little chat for another time,” he said. His eyes traveled over Mark and he smiled lightly. “I think that for now, a reunion is in order.”

Harry watched him go. So he was aware they knew each other? How did he know that? Maybe Selbbit or another Order member who was on guard saw him and Mark talking one day and informed Dumbledore? Or perhaps Dumbledore was just figuring since they lived near one another and they were now already talking? Harry shrugged internally and pushed the matter aside, following Ron, Hermione, and Mark upstairs.

Upon reaching the Common Room, all of the students trickled up to their dormitories, pleasantly full and in high spirits; all except Harry, Ron, Hermione and Mark. Ron and Hermione also went up to their beds in order to refresh their spirits in a night's rest, but Harry and Mark remained in the Common Room. They each took up an armchair by the fire; the same chairs Harry had sat in so many times before. In fact, the room was exactly the same as he remembered. He took in a deep breath, savoring every detail in one of his favorite places in the world.

“Who killed that girl, Harry?” Mark asked suddenly. “And why did they do it? She seemed alright to me.”

Harry heaved a deep sigh. He struggled to find a good place to start. Then he remembered what Hagrid had told him when he had first come to Hogwarts. “You see, not all wizards are good. Just like there are criminals in the Muggle world-”

“Muggle?”

“Non-wizards. Just like there are muggle criminals, there are wizard criminals. You know what bigotry is, don't you?”

“Yeah. It's a form of intolerance where people are closed-minded towards other groups and think they're superior.”

“Exactly. In the wizarding world, there's one particular group of dark wizards who are the ultimate bigots. They're called Death Eaters, and they hate all `dirty blood' wizards- non-purebloods.”

“What are purebloods?”

“It means both of your parents were wizards, and you're family line is all wizards.”

“Well, that certainly isn't me,” Mark said. He frowned. “My parents aren't wizards. They've never been angrier than when they found out I was a wizard. They kicked me out of our home when I decided to come here.”

Harry observed this little, troubled boy. Over the summer, Mark had mentioned that he didn't get along very well with his parents when Harry had questioned why he was always wandering around outside.

Mark made a sour smile. “If only the leather belt had never been invented, eh?”

Harry looked away sadly. He couldn't figure out why Mark's parents would be that mad about him being a wizard, unless one or both of them were squibs. That would probably explain it…

“So, you were saying?” Mark said, signaling for Harry to continue.

“There's this one wizard who went as bad as they get. His name is Voldemort. He's murdered countless people, including my parents.”

Mark gaped at him.

“See this scar?” Harry said, holding up his bangs to expose his signature scar on his forehead. “I told you I got it in a car accident. The truth is Voldemort gave it to me. When I was a baby, he murdered my parents and then he tried to kill me. But my mother's love for me saved me, and his curse deflected on himself.”

“He's gone then?” Mark asked, voice trembling a little.

“No. He's so strong that it only weakened him. Since I've been at Hogwarts, I've already met him 5 times, and I've managed to get away so far.”

“So then, he's still coming after you? Why?”

Harry opened his mouth but then hesitated. He tried to think of a way to put it without mentioning the Prophecy, but he couldn't find one. So, shocking himself, he decided to tell this little boy he barely even knew, yet felt somehow connected to. “Promise you won't tell anyone this… my friends don't know yet. I'm afraid they'll worry too much.”

Mark nodded his head eagerly. “I promise.”

Harry took a deep breath, already feeling a little weight lifted off his shoulders by telling someone- anyone- about the Prophecy.

“There was a prophecy made shortly before my birth that predicted the coming of the only person who had the power to kill him. That's why he tried to kill me as a baby, because the Prophecy refers to me. And now either I kill him, or it's all over; he'll conquer and reign over not only wizards, but the entire world.”

Mark blew out his cheeks. “How do you deal with it?”

“Oh, believe me; it's harder than hell to. But I have my friends to help me out, and so far lady luck has been on my side. Last year, one of his Death Eaters- the same group who killed that girl tonight- murdered my godfather, Sirius Black. Even if it hadn't been personal before, it is now. All I can tell you is that I plan on working as hard as I can this year to improve, and just pray that when the fateful time comes, I can pull it off once more.”

They sat in silence for some time, both unsure of what to say. Then Harry stood and said he was off to bed, and Mark rose to follow him up the stairs. Halfway up, Mark stopped at his door. He bid Harry goodnight and went to enter, but Harry remembered something and held him up for a second.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I just wanted you to know that I'm amazed at how brave you are.”

“What-?” Mark said, but Harry was already continuing up the stairs.

A/N: It's not my best, but it's not too bad either. Anything in particular you liked or disliked? Please tell me what's on your mind. Thanks to everyone who has and who continues to review! Keep `em coming, and I'll be more motivated to churn out the story much quicker!

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Chapter 16- A New Way of Life

Harry was awoken by his recurring nightmare early in the morning and couldn't fall back asleep. Giving up on getting any more rest, Harry kicked his covers off himself, got a drink of water from the basin by the window and got around for the day. Down in the common room, which was empty and ghostly silent spare the faint crackling of the fire, Harry stretched out on a couch. A glance at a clock above the fireplace told him it was only 4:00. He sighed and folded his hands behind his head. He wished he'd stop having these stupid dreams; he would never be able to come to terms with his grief if he didn't stop re-witnessing the tragedy almost every night. Every time he thought of Sirius, it felt as if a vice was being tightened around his heart, making it hard to breathe. If only he hadn't been so stupid; if only he hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries that night; if only Dumbledore hadn't kept Sirius locked up all year…The list went on. Harry still kicked himself every time he thought about the danger he had put his friends in; he wouldn't let that happen again.

He glanced up at the clock again. 4:30. Growing restless, he decided to take a walk around the grounds outside. Although the entire castle was still asleep, outside the birds were beginning to wake up. A cheerful chirruping and chirping was carried by the breeze across the grounds. The air was crisp and cooled his lungs pleasantly. He wandered down by the lake and sat under the large beech tree he had seen the Marauders sitting under in Snape's memory last year. He didn't like to think about everything that happened in that memory, but he did like to remember the way his dad behaved, ruffling up his hair and playing with his snitch. Lupin, the rational one, would sit reading a book. Much like Hermione does, Harry thought. She was probably the most like Lupin. And then there was Sirius: carefree, confident, and cool. Every movement he made was just so casual, so easygoing, and so natural. Harry wished he could be more like that. Maybe if Harry had been able to spend more time around him, some of that would have rubbed off on him.

Thinking about Sirius made his heart ache a way thinking about his dad never did. It was odd, really. When he had first realized that, Harry had felt guilty and ashamed. After all, his dad was still his dad; Sirius couldn't replace that. But then he thought about it more, and it occurred to him that the reason it hurt so much more was because he had never even known his father; he knew nothing of him except what he learned through other people's memories. Yet Sirius was real to him; he knew him. And he'd had hopes of a future with him, which he had never had with his dad. Thinking about his dad made him want to strive harder and brought a burst of pride. Thinking about Sirius just made his eyes fill with tears and made him long to be rid of his misery, even if that meant just giving up altogether.

Harry wiped his eyes hastily with the back of his hand and stood to walk back up to the castle. He had to stop being so weak. He had to grow up and get over it and stop living in the past. And though he knew that, a part of him didn't want to let go.

* * *

Harry found Hermione already awake and sitting in the Common Room along with a few clusters of younger students and a couple of seventh years.

She looked up at him as he approached the chair she was sitting in.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, giving him a smile. “Where are you returning from?”

“I took a walk outside; I woke up early this morning and couldn't fall back asleep, and I figured the fresh air would invigorate me a little rather than feeling drowsy all day.”

“Good idea.” She glanced up at the clock, which now showed that it was going on seven o'clock. “I've got prefect duties. Care to come with me? Ron's supposed to go but I figured I'd let him sleep in, as long as you'll fill in.”

“Sure, I'll come. I'll just go grab my bag so we don't have to come back here before lessons.”

A minute later he and Hermione were clambering through the portrait hole with their bags dangling from their shoulders.

“So, where are we heading?” Harry asked, following her down the Grand Staircase.

“We just have to patrol a few of the halls, mainly to make sure there aren't any lost first-years wandering around.”

When they reached the ground floor, she veered left down the hallway Harry knew the Hufflepuff Common Room was located off of. Harry asked her if she knew where it was.

“No…only Heads are allowed to know the locations of all of them, unless you figure it out on your own somehow.”

“Or you sneak in under a clever disguise,” Harry said, grinning at her, referring to the time he and Ron snuck into the Slytherin Dungeon using Polyjuice Potion to transform themselves into Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione laughed lightly. “Yes, or you could do that.”

The hallway twisted around quite a bit, with hallways leading off in numerous directions at every bend. Harry often found himself walking straight while Hermione turned, and he'd have to back-track quickly and take several large steps to catch up with her. While they turned yet another corner, and the lights grew dimmer, Hermione spoke to him again.

“How did you enjoy your little reunion with Mark last night?”

“I dunno. It was nice I guess. He's a good kid.”

Hermione cast him a knowing sideways glance. “I saw a welt on his shoulder. Do you have any idea how he got that?”

Harry looked down at the ground as they continued walking and answered hesitantly. “His parents beat him. They lashed him pretty hard when he decided to leave to come here. Apparently they hate wizards.”

Hermione bit her lip. “That's horrible!” she exclaimed. “And he's so small, and happy. But did you see his eyes, Harry? They're so hard and cold, they look like they belong to someone who is dead, or soulless or something.”

Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye to find she looked incredibly frightened. Without even thinking, he put his arm around her, pulling her closer as they continued to walk.

“I know. I can tell he's had a pretty tough life. But he'll be happy here, I'm sure of it. It will all brighten up for him. Once you get to know him a bit, you'll really like him Hermione.”

She nodded her head as she led the way around yet another corner. They walked in silence for the next five minutes, and although Hermione was no longer upset, Harry kept his arm purposefully around her.

By the time they had wound their way all through the corridors and come back out in the Great Hall, Harry was thankful Hermione knew her way around so well. He would have gotten lost down there in a matter of minutes.

People were beginning to stream from all over toward the Great Hall for breakfast. Realizing he still had his arm around Hermione, Harry pulled his arm back to his side swiftly, feeling his cheeks grow red.

Inside the Great Hall, they found Ron already eating. Harry and Hermione sat down across from Ron, grabbing plates and loading them up with eggs, potatoes, and bacon.

“Thanks for letting me off duties this morning, Hermione,” Ron said.

“You're welcome, but don't think it's going to be made into a habit.”

A few minutes later, as they were each finishing up their breakfasts, there was a loud commotion as the mail was delivered. Hundreds of owls all swooped down in the Great Hall, dropping parcels onto students' laps. Neville had a rather large package, as usual, of things he had forgotten to bring along to school. Harry and Ron hadn't received anything, but a black owl swooped down and delivered a paper to Hermione. She fumbled in her bag, withdrew five knuts, and dropped them in the pouch attached to the owl's leg. The owl took flight again with a singular `hoot.'

Hermione had the Daily Prophet unrolled as soon as the owl took off.

Ron and Harry patiently watched her read it.

“Has anything else happened that we should know about?” Harry asked, attempting to read it from beside her.

Hermione sighed and rolled the paper back up again. “There was a group of ten bodies- 3 were wizards, 7 muggles- found in a park in Liverpool.”

“Are they sure it's the Death Eaters?” Ron asked.

“Of course they are, Ron,” Hermione snapped. “They found the Dark Mark above them, didn't they? Luckily, `they' is a wizard who was taking a walk through there, so the muggles didn't catch sight.”

“Well, that's good, isn't it?” Ron said.

Harry frowned at him. “Oh yeah mate, it's excellent! As long as the muggles don't notice anything, the Death Eaters can kill anyone they wish!”

“I didn't mean it like that!” Ron said back. “I just figured that the longer the muggles don't notice anything going on, the better.”

“Well, either way,” Hermione said, “The Prime Minister has already been notified of their movement's and before long the muggles are all going to catch on to the fact that something odd is happening- not just some muggle serial murderer roaming around the country.”

“Let's hope they don't anytime soon,” Ron said. “I wonder what will happen when they do.”

“Dunno. They'll probably all freak out and run around in frenzy,” Harry said.

Ron laughed. “Yeah- they'll all be running around in circles like chickens with their heads cut off, screaming with their hands over their heads.” Ron waved his hands over his head wildly and pretended to scream.

They both laughed.

Hermione frowned disapprovingly. She slapped Harry's arm. “It's not funny!”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. “You're right.”

While breakfast wrapped up, McGonagall went along their table passing out schedules.

“Here you go Mr. Weasley,” she said, handing one to him from over his shoulder. “Ms. Granger,” she added, handing hers over the table to her as well.

Then she continued on down the table. Harry watched her go, puzzled that she didn't give him his while she was there.

“Awww…I've got History of Magic today with Hufflepuff,” Ron groaned, frowning at his schedule. “But I've got Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon,” he said brightening. “How about you?” he asked Harry, looking up from the sheet.

Harry shrugged. “She didn't give me mine yet. Who's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?”
“Yeah, that reminds me,” Hermione offered. “Dumbledore forgot to mention the new teacher at the feast.”

“He probably forgot since his mind was on other things,” Harry said. “Who is it?” he persisted.

Ron looked down at his sheet and a dumb look appeared on his face.

“What?” Harry asked.

Ron glanced up at Harry and Hermione. “It says that it's Snape. There must be some mistake…”

Hermione quickly looked down at her own schedule and said, “I have Snape too. And look! There's a new Potion's master: Professor Teteran.”

Harry snapped his head up to the High Table. Sure enough, there was a new professor seated there who he had failed to notice before.

“You've got to be kidding me!” he groaned, banging his head on the table. “Why is Dumbledore doing this to us?”

“Beats me,” Ron said with a deep scowl on his face. “Bloody git. How could he let that giant ball of slime teach us now?”

“Well, I know Snape is our worst nightmare, but that doesn't mean he isn't really, really good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he's been applying to the position for years,” Hermione offered. “I don't know why Dumbledore didn't give him the job sooner. Maybe he couldn't find another Potions Master until now, or maybe he just didn't trust bringing in any new staff this year.”

She looked at both Ron and Harry in turn to find them both glaring at her. She blushed but continued strongly. “It's true! He must be good given his,” she paused and leaned closer to them, “history. I'm sure his knowledge is extensive; the real question is why Dumbledore didn't give him the job sooner.”

“Maybe because he's a bloody pillock. Ghouls have better personalities than he does!” Ron complained.

“He's right you know,” Harry said. “Snape's a horrible teacher. His classes are a living hell! Now Dumbledore's giving him to us in the class he knows is the most important one?! I'm with Ron. Dumbledore's an idiot.”

“He's not an idiot!” Hermione said. “I'm sure he has his reasons for giving Snape the position.”

“You don't know what it's like to live under Snape's full wrath Hermione,” Harry said, folding his arms in front of him. “He doesn't hate you like he hates me. And I hate him for that matter! I really do!” He suddenly felt himself getting angry, but he couldn't control it. The best he could do was lean forward and say it all in a vicious whisper. “The way he taunted Sirius, how he treats me just because he was jealous of my dad. He was just as bad as a kid as he is now. Not to mention Occlumency; the way he stopped giving me lessons! If he hadn't done that, Sirius would still be here today!”

He felt Hermione put her arm around him.

“Stop doing that to yourself,” she said sternly. “Quit dwelling on the past and on what could have been done to prevent it. There's nothing anyone can do anymore; you can't change the past.”

Harry looked up at her stubbornly. “You of all people shouldn't say that.” He smiled at her.

She smiled back and then withdrew her arm, sitting up again. Ron watched them curiously.

Harry was going to apologize for his outburst when McGonagall walked past again and failed to stop beside him. He watched her pass and then shouted after her, “Professor McGonagall!”

Hearing his call, she abruptly stopped and turned back to face him as he walked up to her.

“You didn't give me my schedule,” he told her.

“You will follow a different course schedule this year, Potter,” she said curtly. “Please meet with the Headmaster during first class today. He'll explain it to you.”

With that she turned back on her heel and strode away again.

Harry sat back down next to Hermione and simply stared at the table in front of him. What was going on around here? Why did he have a different schedule? So he wouldn't be in any classes with Ron or Hermione?

“Where's yours?” Ron asked in regards to his schedule. “Didn't McGonagall give it to you?”

“Harry, what's wrong?” Hermione asked, looking at him with concern.

“I have a special schedule this year; I'm not going to be attending classes with you guys.”

“What?!” Ron exclaimed.

“Yeah, Dumbledore's apparently altering my courses. I'm not really sure what I'm going to be taking, but it doesn't sound like any of the normal classes I would be in.”

“I can't sit through class without you there!” Ron said. “It'll be, like, wrong. I mean, what am I going to do all day?”

“Hmm, how about you try listening and learning,” Hermione said sarcastically.

“Very funny,” Ron returned. “Seriously, this isn't right.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry said miserably. “I don't particularly want to sit through any classes by myself either.”

“First Hermione, now you,” Ron said.

Harry turned to Hermione.

“What's he talking about?”

“Well, I've got a slightly altered schedule this year too. Since I did so well on my O.W.L.s, McGonagall felt it was appropriate to allow me some, well I guess you could say privileges.”

“Like..?” Harry prompted.

“I still have to attend a class a day, but other time is allotted for individual study. I'm basically allowed to go to the library and research material on my own, since that's how I learn best. Class tends to be kind of redundant when you've already read and memorized the books.”

“That's great Hermione,” Harry said. He knew how happy she probably was. She was probably only barely managing to contain her excitement for Ron's sake. Harry could tell Ron was upset that he would be left alone in most of his classes this year.

“I'm sorry Ron,” he said. “Trust me- I'd much rather suffer through class with you than by myself.”

“Thanks. I guess you two are just too good to stoop to the level of regular N.E.W.T. classes now,” he teased.

“We should probably get to class now,” Hermione said. Sure enough, the Great Hall was slowly emptying as students left for their classes.

They threw their bags over their shoulders and headed out of the Great Hall and up to the first floor. There Harry parted with them and continued to Dumbledore's office on the second floor. He stopped before the gargoyle and then cursed himself for forgetting to ask for the password earlier. He was about to walk away and find another teacher to ask when the gargoyle shuddered and twirled around revealing a winding staircase. Harry looked around then climbed the stairs, reaching the great oak door at the top and knocking lightly on it three times.

“Please, do come in,” came the reply from inside, and Harry opened the door to find Professor Dumbledore sitting by himself behind his desk.

“Ah, Harry. I was expecting you,” he welcomed. He motioned to the chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.”

Harry obliged and set his bag down on the floor next to him. To his right, Fawkes let out a low cry and tilted his head towards him.

The last time Harry had been in here, he had been incredibly angry. In fact, he had been angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. He had shouted at Dumbledore and thrown his objects against the walls, causing them to smash. Sirius had just been sent through the veil, and both Voldemort and Bellatrix had managed to escape again, right from the very heart of the Ministry of Magic.

“I'm sure you are very curious as to why your schedule has been altered this year,” Dumbledore said, bringing Harry's attention back onto him.

Harry nodded his head.

“Since you are now aware of the Prophecy, I felt it necessary to act upon it.”

“Sir?” Harry asked; he was not quite sure where Dumbledore was taking this.

“We must speed up your education, Harry. It is vital that you gain extensive knowledge and skills over this year and, hopefully, the next in preparations for the fulfillment of the Prophecy. I do not think it would be wise of me to allow you to sit through ordinary classes, only to leave you with too little time to learn what you must later on. Therefore, I have arranged a special schedule for you this year, a very grueling one.”

He looked at Harry with a serious expression, boring his eyes right into Harry's own.

“It will not be easy; you're in for a very rough year during which you will face many challenges and be tested in ways well beyond anyone your age has ever been tested. You must learn what it takes most wizards their entire lives to learn and then some. Do you understand this responsibility?”

Harry gulped. Dumbledore's description of the year to come made him nervous, but not fearful. Harry's thoughts traveled back to Bellatrix and his face set in determination.

“Yes Professor,” he said. “I do.”

Dumbledore nodded and allowed his eyes to leave Harry's. “Very well. Now, I have arranged for a variety of skilled wizards to come in every so often in order to instruct you. Other time will be spent with private tutoring sessions with one of the Hogwarts' professors or myself. In addition to the special sessions with the legendary experts and the private lessons with some of your old professors, I will be taking up where Professor Snape left off in teaching you Occlumency as well as Legilimency. You will also have to spend time studying on your own, learning spells from some of the restricted sections of the library in addition to all of the spells the other students will learn throughout the school year. It's a very heavy load, I warn you of this now. But I do believe that you understand why this is necessary.”

“Yes, I do,” Harry assured him.

Dumbledore smiled softly at him and then reached across the desk to a candy dish filled with little yellow candies. He popped one in his mouth and then offered the bowl to Harry.

“Would you care for a lemon drop?” he asked.

“Er- no thanks,” Harry said.

“Ah, very well then,” Dumbledore said, placing the lid back on the dish and setting it back down again.

“Before you leave, there is one more matter to attend to,” Dumbledore said, sucking on his candy. “I wish for you to restart that Defense Against the Dark Arts Club you led last year. Dumbledore's Army, correct?”

He didn't wait for Harry to answer; he just smiled with twinkling eyes and then continued.

“You are to lead it and instruct the other students as you were before, only with the extended knowledge you will be receiving this year.”

“Why?” Harry asked bluntly.

“Because it was extremely effective, that's why. Every single person who was in your club passed their Defense Against the Dark Arts exams with higher marks than all of the other students in this school. Harry, you have a great talent in this subject and it is neither right nor fair to refuse to share that talent with others. In fact, it is downright selfish.

However, there are some slight changes involved. One is that it is of course no longer going to be kept a secret. Secondly, I do not wish for just anyone to be admitted to it. At this point, it is important that you work on harder spells which not every student has enough background to master. Also, this club is going to be comprised of the school's elite. There are many students in this school who are going to have to choose sides in this war very soon and who are going to need to be educated in Defense Against the Dark Arts further than their class will take them. Therefore, I am going to have the House Heads determine who will attend your meetings. There will be students attending from each house.”

“But Professor,” Harry argued, “I don't mean to be rude, but I don't really get along too well with many of the Slytherins and I know they won't want to come, they won't listen if they do-”

“They will listen to you and they will respect you. While you are teaching in this school, you hold the same authority as any employed professor. You will have the ability to deduct or give points, grade, and keep reports of any misbehavior or excellence. Of course, there is also the responsibility aspect involved with teaching. It will be required of you to have the meetings planned out in advance, to keep track of everyone's attendance and conduct, to write individual and group reports monthly…there's a lot of work involved as well.”

“Professor, I- this sounds like an awful lot of work, I mean- I'm not sure if I can handle this on top of my studies.”

Dumbledore placed his hands together and held them in front of his mouth as he surveyed Harry.

“Oh you can Harry, and you will.”

* * *

Harry missed lunch while he was in Dumbledore's office. Since he didn't start class until tomorrow, he headed to the library to try to get a head-start with his reading. According to the crumpled sheet of paper in front of him, he was to have lessons with McGonagall in Transfiguration every Tuesday morning, lessons with Snape in Defense Against the Dark Arts every Wednesday evening, lessons with Flitwick in Charms every Thursday right before lunch, Potions with Professor Teteran every Friday (Harry was both surprised and thankful about that class: surprised in that he hadn't been expecting to continue with that class after he didn't receive an `Outstanding' on his potion O.W.L. and now a career as an Auror was still open to him, and thankful in that at least potions now held the prospect of not being quite as dreadful without Snape there; of course, that went both ways: no Snape in potions, but Snape there to likely ruin his favorite class instead.), Occlumency and Legilimency with Dumbledore on Saturday evenings, and Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid on Mondays. Actually, since Care of Magical Creatures wasn't something he had to be taught individually or on any advanced level, but still had to take in order to know how to deal with them in case the need arose, he was allowed to attend that class with Hermione and Ron. He was happy that he would at least get to spend a little time with them, even if it was in class; he was already growing depressed thinking about how little he would see them this year.

He wasn't going to continue taking History of Magic or Divination; luckily Dumbledore found them superfluous. It also was no longer required that he take Herbology, since there was no real practical use for it in what he was now training for, for Harry knew that he was now in training to fight and bring about the end of Lord Voldemort. At first that had scared him slightly, when the reality of it struck him, but then he grew more adjusted to the fact and it instead made electricity flow through his veins and skin. The thought of the final battle with Voldemort still worried him so much that he felt queasy, but the thought of training for it made him feel more secure.

Throughout the day when he wasn't in one of his private sessions, he was to be studying in the library, reading books that Dumbledore selected for him. Harry looked down at the list held in front of him, with Dumbledore's signature scrawled at the bottom. He was to get a book on Charms out of the Restricted Section of the library, in addition to reading over his Transfiguration book for his session with Professor McGonagall tomorrow. Now he was even more thankful than he was originally that he had already read through his textbooks. It wouldn't take as long to review as to read through five chapters for the first time.

Harry stopped at the main desk in the library and handed the sheet to Madam Pince, who snatched it out of his hand and lowered her glasses to the rim of her nose in order to verify the signature was genuine.

“Professor Dumbledore sent me to get a book,” Harry explained pointlessly. It annoyed him slightly that she thought he was forging a signature. He soon became impatient and said, “You can go and ask him if you'd like, he'll just tell you the same thing I am. He's going to be sending me down here all year to get books out of the Restricted Section, so I suggest you get used to it and not bother checking the signature over and over every time.”

Madam Pince removed her eyes from the sheet and frowned at him sternly.

“I mean, I'll be coming here often just so that you know,” he corrected lamely, deciding he had been a little too rude and not wanting a detention on his first day.

“Very well; I will go retrieve it for you,” she said briskly, handing the sheet back to him.

As Harry waited for her, he looked back down at his schedule again. Although he technically had Sundays off, the Defense Association (Dumbledore asked that he referred to it as that instead of `Dumbledore's Army', since it needed a fresh start and reputation) was to meet every Sunday evening from seven to nine. Of course, the club also meant that he had an extra pile of responsibilities to attend to each week in addition to all of his studies. Not only that, but on random days Dumbledore was having the experts arrive to help instruct him, on which days Dumbledore warned him he would be attending the special lesson from the time he awoke until the time he was sent off to bed. Harry understood that this was necessary in order to make the best use of the short time allotted, but the only thing that kept him from complaining was his high interest in what was to come on those days. He couldn't wait to learn some advanced spells, even if it took hours of work and all of the energy out of him on the days the experts came.

Madam Pince returned with the book in hand, and he slid it in his bag and thanked her before heading up to the Common Room to study. After going over his schedule in full, the only thing that was keeping Harry from groaning aloud and sinking to the floor in despair was the seed of determination that had been planted in him. Every time he felt like giving up, he had already determined that he would think about Bellatrix, the Death Eaters who harmed Hermione, the recent murders, Voldemort killing Cedric…anything that would fuel his passion and determination to keep going and striving harder. What he failed to realize at the time was that it would in turn fuel his hatred and anger as well.

* * *

Harry hunched over his Transfiguration book in an armchair by the fire when Hermione and Ron came in later that evening after Ron's classes had finished. Hermione had been in the library all afternoon but Harry hadn't seen her there, else he would have stayed there to read instead of by himself in the Common Room. Ron and Hermione sat down on the couch next to him, bags sliding from their shoulders and dropping to the ground. Ron had a scowl on his face but Hermione looked reasonably happy.

“I can't really talk right now,” Harry said, resuming his reading on Minor Self Human Transfiguration, “I've got to finish these chapters and I don't want to be up all night.”

Ron grunted. “Since when do you care so much about studying?”

“Since I learned what's in for me this year,” Harry said, flipping the page.

“And what exactly is that?” Ron asked. “You weren't at lunch today; Hermione and I figured you were probably still in with Dumbledore, so we didn't worry too much. Besides, we figured you'd tell us all about your new and improved schedule once we got back.”

Harry sighed and shut his book. Then he proceeded to explain to Ron and Hermione exactly what his schedule was to be like this year, handing the chart that planned it all out over to them. On the sheet Dumbledore had given him was a chart that stood for a month, each box a day just like a Muggle calendar, only it was bewitched and animated. Each box had tiny script in it that said what class he had each day, at what time, and where. If one of his professors changed the location of their lesson for whatever reason, it would show up on his sheet. It would also show what his assignments were at the bottom of each box (which would glow red once he completed them and then disappear altogether once he handed them in), and if one of the experts was coming in it would alert him with a gold star flashing in the box instead of the regular listings. Currently, all of the boxes were blank apart from the professor names, the times, and the locations of his lessons.

When Harry finished explaining everything to them, Hermione looked deeply impressed and Ron looked blown away.

“How do you think you're going to manage all of that? That's more work than we've done since we've been here!” Ron exclaimed incredulously.

“I think it's very responsible of you Harry,” Hermione offered, handing his schedule back to him. “But I do agree with Ron in some ways too; it sounds like an awful lot to handle- even more than what I had in third year.”

“I know, but I have to do it, I don't have a choice,” Harry said firmly. “I'm ready to start working harder this year.”

Hermione smiled approvingly and Ron said, “Good luck, mate. You make my N.E.W.T. classes look like a breeze. By the way, did I tell you I've still got Astronomy? I guess there was a large curve on the exam due to the `minor disturbance'. Right- I wouldn't exactly call a group of wizards attacking Hagrid and almost killing McGonagall a minor disturbance, more like `a large disruption that served not only as an inevitable distraction but also as the biggest mistake of those Aurors' lives.'”

Harry chortled.

“What else have you got?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts- of course, I couldn't fail that one even if I tried after your club, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic- I'd rather I'd failed that stupid exam now, rather than being stuck in that nullifier again, and now Muggle Studies as well; Dad'll be thrilled when he hears about that one, so he doesn't need to know it's only because I needed another class and that was the only one left open to me besides Arithmancy.”

“You'll like learning about Muggles,” Hermione said, “Even I rather enjoyed that class, and I'm muggle-born. It should fascinate you as much as magic used to fascinate me.”

“Or it could just bore me to death so that I fall asleep in two classes instead of just History of Magic,” Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes and addressed Harry again.

“That's great that you get to continue with your club! I suppose that's always something you can look forward to.”

“Yeah, apart from the fact that it's now going to be comprised of students I either don't know at all or hate for a large part and it's all official now; I have to construct lesson plans and grade people and things like that,” he said darkly.

“But you have a `Professor' status now. You can deduct points from the Slytherins or even fail them!” Ron said happily.

Harry smiled. “Only while we're in session, and failing them only affects them as far as getting them removed from the Club and their grade marked down a level in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“It sounds good enough to me. I hope I can even get in anymore, now that McGonagall's choosing attendees.”

“I'm sure you will,” Harry said. “And even if there was some fluke and you didn't get selected by McGonagall, you'd still get in anyway. I get to choose some students too, so that the people who were in it last time and trusted me are automatically in again.”

“Harry,” Hermione said suddenly. “Would you mind if I helped you with your lesson plans and organization of the club? Just help, of course.”

Harry gaped at her. “Are you serious? Of course I wouldn't mind! I'd love you to.”

A grin spread across her face and she sprang from her seat with gusto and ran up to her dormitory, already mumbling about plans.

Harry and Ron watched her go and then gave each other a look that clearly said `I really don't understand her sometimes.'

Ron sighed and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of his bag.

“Well, if you're going to be working, I might as well as get this essay Binns set us out of the way. I'd tell you you're lucky to be getting out of that class, but I know you've got more than I'd bargain for in return.”

Harry grinned and then set back to reading his book. After a half an hour spent in silence but for the scratching of Ron's quill, the turning of pages, and the soft murmur of voices of other students, Harry finished his last chapter right as his head began to dully ache and his stomach's grumblings began to demand his attention.

“Want to head down to dinner?” Harry asked Ron, who looked relieved to have an excuse to halt his work on his essay.

Before they headed downstairs they sent a first year girl scurrying up to the girls' dormitory to call for Hermione, who came down soon after. In the Entrance Hall they ran into Professor McGonagall. She called out to Harry and motioned for him to join her.

Hermione and Ron stopped to wait for him but Harry told them to go on ahead and that he'd be with them soon.

“Yes Professor?”

McGonagall led him off to the side. “Headmaster Dumbledore has just informed me of your new schedule, which I find very burdensome of him. I hope you do not feel the same way?”

“Well, sort of,” Harry admitted, “But I'll deal with it.”

She looked at him seriously and then continued. “In any case, I thought it right for you to know something so that you were not taken aback by it unpleasantly later. I had your name in mind for Quidditch Captain this year, but that was before I heard all about your new busy schedule, so I'm planning on offering the position to Mr. Weasley instead.”

Harry looked down at the floor disappointedly in a type of frustration. He had been looking forward to Quidditch this year despite the extenuating circumstances and now he was being denied the honor of Captain that he thought he rightfully earned in place of something that could not exactly be considered fun. The truth was that Harry should have been made Prefect too, in place of Ron, if Dumbledore hadn't mistrusted his abilities to cope with the burden of the Prophecy (though he seemed to have gotten over that and gone to the opposite extreme instead this year), and now Ron was being handed another honor that had been set aside for him. Sure, he was happy for Ron, but also couldn't help but find it incredibly unfair.

He tried to explain this to McGonagall.

“If I can handle all of my studies and my club, then I can handle Quidditch Captain as well. It's not really fair to give me a bunch of extra work to do but not allow me to do what I enjoy-”

“Yes, I understand Potter, but there just simply isn't enough time for Quidditch in your schedule this year-”

“-And if I'm going to be playing Quidditch anyways, I might as well as be Cap- What do mean, no time for Quidditch? You mean at all?”

McGonagall's severity seemed to soften a bit as she continued rather sadly, “Yes, Potter. I mean at all.”

Harry couldn't believe what she was saying. “Do you mean to tell me that you're trying to kick me off the team altogether? Wait, the ban doesn't still pertain now that Umbridge is gone, does it?”

“No, Mr. Potter, it does not. However, I do mean that I think it would be best for you to drop Quidditch this year and focus solely on your studies-”

“What if I don't want to drop Quidditch?” Harry said heatedly. “What if I were to tell you that it's one of the only things that keep me sane and happy around here and that I was miserable without it last year?”

“Mr. Potter, calm down-”

“How am I supposed to calm down when you're telling me that one of my favorite things in the world is being taken away from me because I've been piled down with work that I didn't ask for and responsibilities that I didn't ask for, all because Dumbledore doesn't think I can handle it?!”

“Professor Dumbledore to you, Potter,” she said briskly, “And he is not the one making this decision, I am. Now calm down and continue this discussion like the adult you claim you are.”

Harry felt his skin burning in anger and found his fists had clenched, but although her comment stung him it also made him feel ashamed enough to settle down. He took a deep breath and un-balled his fists.

“Now,” McGonagall continued, “What I was going to say is that although I do not believe it wise of you to continue with Quidditch, it is still your decision to make and the position as Captain is still open to you if you choose to take it. However, I have warned you and if you take this responsibility I expect it to be fulfilled correctly and without excuses or complaints. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry mumbled, now fully ashamed of his outburst. He had to get himself under control.

“Very well, consider yourself the new Gryffindor Quidditch Captain; I have already reserved the pitch for tryouts next Friday evening and it is now your responsibility to meet with me in order to arrange reservations for the season.”

Harry nodded his head to show he understood.

“Okay, you may continue on to your dinner,” she dismissed. However, before he made it two steps she added, “Oh, and do keep in mind that I hold every right to remove the position from you if I do not find your school results satisfactory.”

He nodded again numbly and headed inside, sitting down beside Ron.

“What was that all about?” Ron asked him.

“She was just informing me that I made Quidditch Captain,” Harry said modestly.

“Congratulations!” Ron said, thumping him on the back. “That's excellent! We'll win for sure this year!”

Hermione, however, apparently viewed it differently. “How do you plan on balancing this along with everything else you've got to do?” she asked skeptically.

Harry cast a pleading half smile. “Hopefully with your help.” He turned to Ron as well, “And yours.”

“And how am I supposed to help?” Ron asked.

“I'm going to need help coming up with new plays and strategies aren't I? Who else would be better for me to ask?”

“Alright, wicked,” Ron said approvingly, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, tilting his head and poking out his bottom lip.

She sighed and caved in, “Oh, alright. Of course I'll help. You didn't really expect me to resist, did you?”

“No, I just thought I'd make it look like I was asking rather than expecting it,” Harry teased.

Hermione flicked a pea at him from across the table.

“Watch it,” she warned, though she was smiling.

After they finished dinner they headed back up to Gryffindor Common Room where Ron took it upon himself to announce loudly to the entire congregation, “Hey, guess what? Harry's been made the new Quidditch Captain!”

There was a loud uproar and many `Congratulations' being yelled at him from around the room, as well as many handshakes. After practically every single person mentioned their approval the hubbub finally died back down again and Harry was able to stop holding his grin and turn on Ron with a slight frown.

Ron met his glance and said, “What?! I figured they ought to know, and look- they like you Harry, they really like you!”

Harry laughed and shoved him lightly on the shoulder. They were going to head upstairs when Mark approached him with a short, black-haired girl Harry didn't recognize. Hermione suddenly squeezed his hand quickly and he knew she was making a silent reference to the discussion they had earlier.

“Congratulations on making captain, Harry!” Mark said, although Harry knew he didn't even really understand the concept of Quidditch yet.

“Thanks,” he replied, smiling once again.

“This here's Christine,” Mark introduced, pulling the girl gently in front of him to face Harry. “She said she's read all about you and I told her that we know each other from back in Surrey but she didn't believe me. She didn't believe that you told me about how you made Voldemort flee.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from both Ron and Christine and Hermione flinched a little beside him at the mention of Voldemort's name.

Christine was quick to correct him. “Don't say his name,” she hissed.

“Oh,” Mark said apologetically. “I'm sorry, I didn't know we weren't supposed to say it, Harry says it…”

“You do?” Christine asked him with wide saucer eyes.

“Um, yeah- I don't have any problem saying Voldemort.”

Christine jumped and Ron grunted.

“Would you stop saying his name all the time?” Ron asked in a strained voice. “And don't go telling these little ones to start tossing it around…They don't understand yet, it's better for them to avoid saying it because people will yell at them. Only you and Dumbledore say it, and the way I figure it is that you have a right to if you wish, but these little midgets don't understand what they're saying.”

“Er, we're standing right here you know,” Christine piped up bluntly.

Harry laughed while Ron's ears turned red and Hermione, seemingly approving of this young girl standing in front of them, extended her hand to her.

“Hi Christine, I'm Hermione Granger; it's nice to meet you. And yes, Ron tends to do that.”

Christine and Mark laughed lightly, causing Ron's forehead and face to glow red as well.

“Very funny,” Ron said. “I'm Ron Weasley,” he added.

“I do know Mark,” Harry began. “It's nice to see he's already made a friend. Do you read a lot then, or were you raised a witch?”

“Oh, I simply love reading; I've already read all of our course books, which I hope will be enough. I never even knew such a thing as magic existed, until I got my letter a few months ago.”

“Neat,” Harry said. A quick proud smile flickered on the girl's face and then Mark led her off again with a `goodbye.'

“That girl seems nice,” Hermione said.

“She reminds me of someone else I know,” Harry said, exchanging a look with Ron, who nodded in return.

“Yeah, only I don't think Hermione was quite that out-spoken to older classmates at that age,” Ron said.

They both smirked at Hermione, who luckily took it as a complement and didn't take offense to it.

“I'm off to bed,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Goodnight you two.”

“'Night Hermione,” they said together, heading up the winding stairs to their dormitory.

Inside they found Neville, Dean, and Seamus already dressed in their pajamas and hopping into their beds.

Harry looked at his bed longingly. He suddenly felt extremely exhausted and all he wanted was to collapse on the soft mattress and rest his head on a fluffy pillow. However, before he even managed to button up his pajama shirt, he was addressed by a voice from another bed.

“Where were you all day?” Seamus demanded.

Harry yawned, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “I'm too tired to explain it now, I'll tell you later.”

With that he slid under his covers and closed his eyes against the candle-lit room.

“I heard you aren't taking any classes with us this year,” Seamus continued, attempting to force an explanation out of him, “That you're too great to bother with classes anymore, just like Granger.”

Harry knew Seamus was just trying to provoke him to get him to tell him, but he was too tired to care. He wished he'd quit so he could get some rest.

To Harry's gratification, Ron said, “Quiet Seamus. Let him be. He said he'd tell you tomorrow and he will; and as for Hermione, we all know that she deserves it, so don't go off teasing her for the fun of it. Just drop it and go to sleep.”

“Okay, you don't have to tell me twice. Sheesh, Ron. I was only joking.”

“Yeah, well it isn't funny.”

“Fine, fine…sorry.”

Harry heard Seamus pull his curtain hangings closed around his bed and Neville and Dean do the same. He opened one of his eyes and caught Ron's attention, who was rolled over facing him. Holding Ron's eye contact, he silently mouthed a `thank you' which was met by a swift smile from Ron before he too closed his hangings around his bed. Before Harry even heard Neville's snores, he was fast asleep.

Author's Note: As always, I thank whoever is reading this for taking the time out of their busy lives to take notice of something I've been pouring some of my time into. Nothing is more satisfying than knowing your work is being read. Well, that is besides knowing that your work is appreciated. Please let me know if it's worth continuing and specifically what you liked/disliked about it (though preferably the former).

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Chapter 17- Two Aurors In-Training

When Harry and Ron awoke the next morning they found their dormitory deserted apart from themselves. Down in the Great Hall they met up with Hermione. Harry took a seat next to her and proceeded to pile food on his plate.

“What's wrong with you Ron?” Hermione asked.

Harry glanced up to see Ron was still standing with a deep scowl on his face.

“It's nothing,” he replied, taking a seat.

Following Ron's eyes, Harry looked around behind him to find Malfoy making slash marks across his neck with his finger and then pointing to Hermione. Harry cast him the ugliest look he could muster and then turned back around again, not wanting Hermione to notice.

Near the end of breakfast a sea of owls swarmed in from the ceiling and began delivering mail. Harry had to move his plate out of the way as a large barn owl landed ungracefully and stuck out his leg. Hermione dropped a coin into the pouch and the owl took flight again, sprinkling feathers over the table below.

Hermione immediately buried her face in the paper and she didn't reemerge until Harry and Ron stood to leave.

“Anything?” Harry asked as they left the Great Hall.

“Not really.”

“What do you mean, not really?” Ron asked.

“There weren't any attacks, but…”

“But what?”

“It looks like the Daily Prophet gave Rita Skeeter her job back.”

“Let me see that!” Harry exclaimed.

Hermione fished the paper out of her bag and Harry snatched it from her. Sure enough, right on the front page, there was Rita's name in bold print directly under the Headline: “Hogwarts Is No Longer Safe.”

Harry read the article aloud for Ron to hear.

“On a gloomy September morning students boarded the Hogwarts Express, eager to return to school. It never occurred to them that their trip would turn into disaster and their lives would all be put in danger.

About half of an hour away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the train lurched to a halt in the freezing rain and the students were told to evacuate by two people who appeared to be their professors. Of course, the students exited willingly, trusting they were in safe hands with their own professors. However, when they entered the forest they encountered numerous Dementors (recently escaping the Ministry's control) who attacked them, forcing them to struggle for their lives as one by one they fell to the Dementors' chilling powers.

As it turns out, the two people who were seemingly professors at Hogwarts were in fact two Death Eaters who had consumed Polyjuice Potion in order to take the professors' forms. It remains to be determined how the Death Eaters acquired the hairs necessary for the complicated potion and the identities of the culprits.

You might be wondering why Death Eaters chose to attack these students. It was really one amongst them who they were targeting. None other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, as people closest to him call him, was present on the train that day. One wonders why current Headmaster Albus Dumbledore did nothing to prevent this scene from taking place as it is obvious that it was a perfect opportunity for the Death Eaters to strike. Why didn't Dumbledore take some precautionary measures to ensure that Harry Potter was not in a situation that compromised the safety of his fellow classmates?

Although we were not able to receive any direct interviews with anyone present at the scene, we did manage to contact a school prefect via the floo: Draco Malfoy.

“Yes, it was certainly lucky that I was there and was able to fight the Dementors and tell Potter to hide. He, being the attention-loving hero that he is, was trying to fight them all off by himself, but I knew he couldn't and he'd end up hurt, so I stepped in for him and protected him- you know, basically made sure no harm came to him.”

Certainly lucky indeed. As a result of the incident, many students were knocked unconscious and one new student was killed. This only leaves us to wonder: What was Dumbledore thinking, drawing Death Eaters near with the exposed presence of Mr. Potter? It's a good thing there are still people like Mr. Malfoy there to look out for him.”

Harry ripped the paper in half. He was seething.

“So Malfoy's chosen to befriend me now, has he? I hadn't noticed.”

“Don't let him bother you; you know that's what he wants,” Hermione contributed. “What's Rita Skeeter playing at, insulting Dumbledore like that? Of course he couldn't have suspected it was going to happen! How could he?”

“They barely even mentioned the dead girl… maybe the Ministry stepped in, trying to hush it all up,” Ron said as they continued up the stairs.

“Hey, Potty! Did you happen to see the little interview I gave?”

Harry went rigid and turned to face Malfoy who was a level below them on the stairs, waving the paper in his hand.

“You wish you had enough talent to be able to cast a spell like the Patronus, Malfoy!” Hermione yelled back. “Maybe if you paid more attention to defense against the dark arts, rather than the dark arts you would know how to by now.”

Malfoy's smirk disappeared from his face and was replaced with a frown. “Shut up, Mudblood. I didn't ask for your opinion.”

Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him. Ron reached for his wand but Harry held out his hand in front of him, warning him to stop.

“You can say anything you'd like about me Draco,” Harry said coldly. “Before long your precious daddy will be back in prison and his master will be dead. Then what are you going to call me? Oh, that's right… you won't even be able to afford to come here anymore, if you aren't in jail with him.”

“Watch your mouth Potter,” Draco spat, yanking out his wand and pointing it at Harry.

“Kindly put that wand away, Mr. Malfoy!” Dumbledore was heading up the stairs below them. Malfoy shot one last look at Harry, then motioned to Crabbe and Goyle and they stomped off into the Second Floor corridor.

Dumbledore climbed the stairs toward them. “I certainly hope that you weren't provoking Mr. Malfoy,” he said austerely as he passed them by. “Do try to learn to ignore others' inapposite comments, Harry,” he added in an undertone.

The way he said it led Harry to believe he was addressing the newspaper in addition to Malfoy. Well, he was going to find it awfully difficult to do that, when he had thought his name as a harmful liar had finally been wiped clear. He never did like Rita much, and this was a good example of why. Only a couple months ago she was the one writing his honest account of Voldemort's return and Cedric's murder. Then again, he couldn't have really been expecting anything else. `Write from the angle the readers want, even if it's completely inaccurate' was the motto she lived by.

There was a tug on his sleeve. “Come on,” Hermione said, “We'll be late for class.”

“Yeah, we wouldn't want that,” Ron said.

“Where are you two off to?” Harry asked them as they traveled up the stairs.

“Charms.”

“Who d'you have your lesson with today?” Ron asked.

“McGonagall,” Harry replied. “I'll see you later.” Ron and Hermione cast him smiles before they turned down into the third floor corridor. Harry continued on to the fifth floor and walked down the hall, lined with moving portraits of famous witches and wizards and various statues. He passed the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, under which now rested a tiny roped-off patch of swamp; Harry smiled to himself at the sight of the miniature memorial to Fred and George. He reached the Transfiguration classroom and knocked once before letting himself in.

Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk at the front of the room. She looked up from the parchment she was writing on when he entered.

“Ah, Potter. You're late.” She nodded her head at the clock on the wall.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry replied, though he couldn't help but think she was being a little hypersensitive.

The near-empty room made Harry feel out-of-place. His every footstep echoed, bouncing off the cold stone floor and walls. He sat across from her and dropped his bag to the floor. She had resumed writing and Harry waited patiently for her to address him. After a few minutes, Harry cleared his throat and she set down her quill.

“Right,” she said briskly. “First, let us discuss the general procedures that will be followed during our lessons. You are to arrive on time,” she raised an eyebrow at him before continuing, “and will be given a short written examination on your reading from the previous night. This is to assure me you have at least a vague idea of what you are doing. Then we'll jump right into learning and practicing the spell. With luck, we can skim through the first few chapters fairly easily. Although I expect the later chapters will require more than one day each before you have the spells mastered.

“Let us begin with a little quiz on the reading you were assigned.”

She placed a sheet of parchment in front of him with three short-answer questions on it.

“You have ten minutes, Potter. You may begin…now.”

Harry dipped his quill into his vial of ink and looked down at the first question. What wand movement is required for transfiguring a human hand into a claw? He searched his memory and began writing.

Precisely ten minutes later McGonagall said, “Time,” and took the parchment from him. Harry feebly tried to scribble a few last words down as she dragged it away, until she yanked it completely from his grasp.

Harry slouched back in his seat as he waited for her to look over the answers.

“Very well Potter, you passed,” McGonagall informed him. “However, you failed to mention that if you transfigure a human foot into a brick that you need to use a jabbing motion with your wand. Otherwise the foot will be smashed by a brick instead, which would not be good. So, let's try it out, shall we?”

Harry withdrew his wand and stood opposite Professor McGonagall. He felt his heart skip a beat when he realized that he was going to have to practice the spell on her.

“Er, Professor. I'm not so sure that I can do this perfectly.”

“Nonsense, Potter. I know you know how. Now stop fussing over nothing and start off by transfiguring my finger into a stick.”

Harry cleared his throat, aimed his wand at her finger and then hesitated. “What's the first word?”

“Transmutare, Potter, transmutare. Carry on,” she said impatiently.

“Okay. Transmutare penke-donec talea.”

In a flash her index finger disappeared and was replaced with a knobby brown twig.

Harry smiled in relief.

“Very good,” she said approvingly, examining her own deformity with ironic pleasure. “Now set it right.”

Harry nodded, refocusing his energy on the spell he was now repeating over and over in his head.

“Restituo!”

To Harry's immense satisfaction, the stick shrunk away and her finger grew back in its state.

“Potter, if I ever hear you complain that you're worried you won't do well again, then I'll have to place a silencing charm over you,” Professor McGongall said, corners of her mouth twitching into a quick smile. “That was very well done. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, let's move on to the entire hand…”

And hour and a half later, Harry had managed to successfully transfigure both of Professor McGonagall's hands and feet into various objects many times over. By the end of the lesson, he grew so that he only had to think the restoring spell in his mind for it to work properly.

She dismissed him with the next chapter's reading assignment and another complement on his accomplishments. He felt his spirits soar as he traveled down to lunch. Ron and Hermione were already seated at the table and when Ron questioned why he was so happy, Harry explained that he had done well in his lesson.

“Well, of course you did,” Hermione said plainly.

“Let's see then,” Ron said. “We don't start practicing the spells for a few classes yet.”

Harry pointed his wand carelessly at Ron, who soon had two claws for hands.

“Wicked,” Ron said as he snapped his claws together.

“Ron, did you screw up another potion?” Ginny slid onto the bench next to him.

The comment was lost on Ron, who was too busy trying to pick up his fork with one of the claws. “No. Harry learned some minor transfiguration spells this morning.”

“Ugh. I don't want to hear the word `transfiguration' again,” Ginny whined.

“Why not?” Ron asked, fork clanking back on his plate again.

“McGonagall set us a 3-foot essay yesterday. Can you believe that? It was our first class!”

“That's O.W.L. year for you,” Ron replied.

Ginny huffed and crossed her arms in front of herself as she stood. “I'm going to go find Luna. Oh, and Harry? Do me a favor and don't transfigure him back.”

“Fine by me,” Ron said. “I could do some damage with these babies…”

Ginny rolled her eyes and walked off toward the Ravenclaw table.

As soon as she was out of ear-shot, Ron leaned across the table to Harry.

“You aren't really going to leave me like this, are you?” he said, a note of slight panic in his voice.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “All depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you'll join me out at the pitch tonight and bring some new play ideas with you.”

Ron grinned. “I can do that. Hermione, are you in?”

“As much as I love sitting around and watching you two fly, no.”

“If you don't like watching then why don't you hop on a broom?” Ron asked.

“Because I don't care to, that's why.”

“Don't know why you're complaining then…”

“I just don't like heights, okay?” Hermione said. “You two go. I have work to do. I'll see you at dinner.” She grabbed her bag and left the Great Hall.

Ron shrugged. “Her loss.”

“Yeah,” Harry said distractedly, watching Hermione leave. He didn't know she had a fear of heights. In fact, he had never really noticed how little Hermione flew before. He always figured it was just something to do with the fact that she didn't have the natural talent for it, not a fear of it.

“…so if you'll twirl your wand and give me my hands back again, I might be able to start drawing up some plans.”

“Oh, sure,” Harry said hastily, restoring Ron's hands.

“I'll work on them during History of Magic,” Ron said. “Hopefully Lavender will let me borrow her notes.”

“Why don't you just scribble something down?” Harry said, as they walked out of the Great Hall together.

“Did you forget everything from our last years?” Ron questioned. “You know it's impossible to keep your eyes open in that class. I swear there's a sleeping drought being filtered through the air in there.” They began climbing the stairs. “Where are you headed to?”

“Oh, I think I'm going to head to the library… I have some books to check out, you know.”

“Right. If I don't show up for dinner, come and make sure I'm not still sleeping in the History of Magic classroom. Now that you aren't there, I'm not sure anyone's going to bother waking me up when class ends!”

Harry and Ron parted and Harry entered the library, handing his pass over to Madam Pince before searching the shelves for a heavy book on ancient potions. Harry dusted off the cover as he headed back over to the exit. Before he left, he heard someone call his name from behind him.

“Pssst! Harry!”

“Shhhh,” Madam Pince scolded.

“Sorry,” came the raspy response.

Harry turned around and, sure enough, found Hermione seated a table tucked into a corner, books and parchment spread across the entire surface. She moved some items out of the way, leaving room for him to sit across from her.

“I keep forgetting you'll be in here,” Harry whispered.

“I know what you mean. I suppose it's going to take a while to get used to these new schedules.”

“Yeah. So, what are you working on?” Harry peered at the text of the book nearest him.

“Potions,” Hermione said. “I have no idea what our new professor is going to be like, so I figured it would be a good idea to get a bit of a head-start, just to refresh my memory.”

“You call this a little refresher?” Harry said, gesturing at the spread of yellowed paper. “Hermione, you have practically an entire shelve worth of books here.”

Hermione raised a shoulder and dipped her quill into her ink. “It's better to be prepared than to fall behind right away. If we thought O.W.L.s were bad, we're in for a rude awakening. N.E.W.T. years are known to be the hardest years of your entire learning career, even harder than post-graduation courses.”

“Speaking of that, what do you plan on doing when we get out of here?”

“Well, I considered taking S.P.E.W. further, but I realized that's never going to happen. Still, I wanted to do something that benefits the community. So then I thought of perhaps becoming a Hogwarts professor-”

“Really? That sounds brilliant, Hermione,” Harry encouraged. He had never really pictured her as a professor before, but now that she mentioned it, he thought it was rather perfect. There was nothing Hermione loved more than school, after all.

“But…” she continued, suddenly growing self-conscience and casting her eyes feebly at her paper. “Then I realized that there's something more important than school, something much more worth-while.”

Something more worth-while to Hermione than school?

“Yes, there's something more worth-while to me than school,” she reiterated, as if she read his thoughts. “The War is, Harry. Fighting Voldemort and bringing about the end of evil in our world is more important. Ridding ourselves of the Death-Eaters and making the wizarding world that much safer for and muggle-borns is more important.” She tucked her chin into her chest and her voice grew so soft Harry could hardly hear it. “Helping you fight Voldemort is more important.”

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Hermione was giving up one of her favorite things in the world- Hogwarts, learning- in order to help him battle Voldemort?

“Are you telling me that you're planning on becoming an Auror?” Harry asked.

She raised her chin proudly at these words, all humility vanishing from her, and looked him directly in the eye.

“Yes. I know you're planning on becoming an Auror too; we can help each other train.”

Harry looked at her in deep amazement. She was going to help him become an Auror. She was giving up any of her other life's ambitions to help him fight Voldemort.

Remembering something, Harry's mood darkened.

“What makes you so sure I'm even going to fight Voldemort?”

“Harry, I just know. Maybe you don't want to face the truth, but we both know that's how it's going to happen. It's always been you who has fought him, ever since you came here. I mean, have you ever even considered why he tried to kill you in the first place? You're somehow special, Harry; you have a great destiny. Otherwise, why would Dumbledore be placing you in a special training program this year? Why would he have given me all these extra privileges…”

“Wait a minute. He altered your schedule so you could help me?”

“Well, yes, that is one reason. Of course, he couldn't allow me to skip classes if he knew I would do poorly either.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing his bangs to fall back lightly on his forehead. He was having difficulties absorbing everything that was being thrown at him and determining what he thought of it. Sure, he was happy Hermione was going to be able to help him out this year, and he was ecstatic that she'd chosen to become an Auror; he had always thought she would make an excellent one, with all the spells she knew. However, he didn't want her to compromise what she really wanted to do for his sake, especially on a hunch.

He shivered in the warm air as he thought how close she had been to hitting on the Prophecy. He wasn't ready to tell Ron or her yet. Not yet.

“...so, what d'you think?” Hermione looked at him expectantly.

Harry pushed his troublesome thoughts out of his head and smiled at her. “Thank you, for doing this with me.”

-->

A/N: Thank you to everyone who continues to read and review! I'm sorry that it's taking me longer to churn out updates for you; my only excuse is my busy schedule. By all means, take it up with my school if you have any problems- I'd be more than happy to have the weight of my backpack each night lightened. Anyway, hopefully this is interesting enough to tide you over until we get into the really interesting plotline stuff in a little while. Until then, please continue reading and leave a comment,

Casey (padfootmoony13)

Chapter 18- Dumbledore, the Great Idealist

That evening Harry and Ron spent over an hour in the pitch, tossing the Quaffle back and forth and looping around one another in complex patterns Ron had designed. Harry put the equipment away feeling very optimistic in Gryffindor's chances at taking the Quidditch Cup this year.

Harry and Ron made their way back to the castle together, brooms resting on their shoulders. They talked eagerly about new plans as they went. As they climbed the path towards the castle, a shadowy figure moved towards them; it appeared that another student was taking advantage of the warm, starry night to practice.

When they grew close enough to see who it was, Harry felt his stomach plummet: it was Cho Chang. He hadn't talked to her since they had broken up and already the mood surrounding them felt awkward.

She stopped in front of them.

“Hi, Harry. Good summer?” Her sugary tone of voice took Harry off-guard.

“Fine,” he said plainly. Then he thought perhaps he sounded a bit too rude and attempted to make up for it. “How about you?”

She sighed. “Oh, you know. It was okay. Michael and I broke up.”

“Oh.” What was she doing? Was she trying to make him jealous? He didn't care about her love-life matters.

“I heard you were made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain this year,” she continued.

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations. It looks like I'll have my work cut out for me this year.”

“Er, yeah. It will be fun,” Harry said lamely.

“Well, I'll see you around,” Cho said. She continued on past them.

“What was that all about?” Ron questioned.

“I dunno.”

They reached the Entrance Hall, nearly empty at this time.

Ron clapped Harry on the back.

“I guess it's your lucky day then,” he said with a silly grin.

Harry shrugged him off.

“Ron, I could care less what Cho Chang thinks about me. I'm over her.”

* * * * *

Back up in the Common Room, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all studying, accompanied by many other Gryffindors. It seemed that almost the entire house was occupying the room, every one of them with a book to their nose or a quill in-hand.

Harry lay on his stomach on the floor, dully reading over his Defense Against the Dark Arts book. He was dreading facing Snape the next day and it was all he could do to try to focus on his reading instead of what Snape was going to make him do- or do to him.

Snowbell and Crookshanks sat on the other side of the room, directly across from one another. They appeared to be looking each other directly in the eye. Every once in a while one of their tails would lift off the ground and thump back down, but apart from that they were entirely still.

Harry watched them curiously. He had never seen cats behave like that. As he continued watching them, Snowbell's head turned momentarily away from Crookshanks and directly toward where Harry lay. Harry felt that uncomfortable sensation he felt whenever he met Snowbell's eyes that made his stomach squirm and the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.

Snowbell's gaze passed over him again and the cat resumed staring at Crookshanks.

“Those two behave so oddly…” Harry muttered to himself.

“What are you mumbling about?” Hermione was looking at him suspiciously from her armchair.

“Your and Ginny's cats- they're acting strange is all,” Harry replied.

Hermione looked around the back of her chair.

“Cats typically play with string, Harry.”

“What?” Harry located the cats again. Sure enough, they were now busy batting at a snippet of string.

Hermione glanced at him. “Are you feeling alright?”

Harry tore his eyes off the cats. “Never mind, I must have been imagining things.”

He attempted to read more and managed to trudge through another chapter before his eyes began to water and Snape's jeering face obscured the words in front of him. He slammed his book closed in frustration and sprang up.

“I'm off to bed,” he told Ron and Hermione, who were both still working studiously.

They both nodded and bid him goodnight and he lugged his books upstairs to his dormitory. He was the first one there and he was thankful that he wouldn't have to struggle to sleep against Neville's snores.

Harry climbed into bed and removed his glasses.

“Maybe it won't be as bad as I'm making it out to be after all,” he said to himself. He snorted as he rolled onto his side. “Yeah right.”

* * * * *

Harry spent the next day finishing up his Defense Against the Dark Arts reading, even reviewing some parts in preparation of facing Snape. He was determined not to allow Snape to make a fool of him in any way in that class. Even if it meant reviewing every single word he read, Harry was eager to prove to Snape that he wasn't incompetent.

Harry ate a quick dinner and headed straight to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When he entered, he found no one in the room. He decided to take a seat, figuring that he was early.

After a good ten minutes passed by, Harry grew anxious. Surely Snape should have been there by now…. Harry drummed his fingers on the table and tapped his foot and then glanced at the clock again. Where was Snape?

As he sat thinking of something to pass the time, Harry decided to look up what page McGonagall wanted him to read to, since he couldn't remember. He retrieved his folded-up schedule from the bottom of his bag and unfolded it. Page 67- that was what he thought it was. Harry began folding the paper back up again when he caught sight of something that made his heart beat faster. In the box that stood for the current day, tiny black letters said `Staff Room.'

Harry cursed and sprang from his chair, grabbing his bag as he went. He sprinted down the hall, skidded around the corner, and knocked head-first into a figure with red hair.

“Hey! Harry, watch where you're going!”

“Sorry Ginny!” Harry called over his shoulder as he continued running. He began taking the stairs three at a time, while halfway down the flight he was on, the stairs shuddered and began swinging around to face a different direction. Harry's face set in panic and he launched himself down the last steps and onto the landing before the stairs could fully rotate. He landed hard on his knees and scrambled to his feet with bruised knee-caps and many questioning looks from observers. Harry ignored the stares he was now receiving as he ran down into the first floor corridor. Why had Snape changed the location of the lesson? It was in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when Harry checked that afternoon. He changed it deliberately, knowing Harry would show up at the wrong place: Harry knew he did.

He slid to a halt in front of the Staff Room and burst into the room, face red and sweaty. As he tried to catch his breath, Snape looked up at him coldly from the chair he was occupying.

“You're late, Potter,” he sneered.

“I didn't know we were supposed to meet here,” Harry panted. “I went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.”

“A likely story,” Snape said sourly. He rose. “Didn't the Headmaster devise a little convenient schedule so that you would be able to figure out where to go when you got lost trying to find your way around this big school you've only been in for five years now?”

“Yeah, but I checked it earlier and it said-”

“Enough Potter. I'm not here to waste my precious time listening to you babble on in vein about why you could not possibly show up to our lesson on time. Ten points from Gryffindor, and don't be late again.”

Harry glowered at him but remained silent; he had learned that questioning Snape's authority resulted in nothing but more points deducted, if not a detention.

“Did you finish the reading I assigned?” Snape asked.

Harry nodded, still not trusting himself to speak.

“Then you should be able to tell me how to annunciate the incantation for the Blasting Curse and demonstrate for me the proper wand movement.”

Harry twirled his wand around once in his hand and thrust it outwards.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “And the incantation?”

“Flabra.”

“Care to give a demonstration, Mr. Potter?”

Harry raised his wand toward Snape, perfectly happy to have a reason to hex him. As soon as he opened his mouth Snape cut him off impatiently. “Not on me, fool. Demonstrate using the pillow I have brought along for this purpose. I'd rather not spend my night in the Hospital Wing, if you don't mind.”

Harry turned his back to Snape and rolled his eyes. And he was so close to hexing him too….

“Flabra!” The pillow resting on a small table soared across the room until it was stopped by a wall and it tumbled to the ground.

Apparently Snape could think of nothing negative to say, so instead he said curtly, “We're moving on.”

After the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson (at the end of which Harry was feeling very content and Snape had a vinegary smile on his face) the rest of the week passed by quickly. Ron had taken to dashing to the library during all of his breaks between classes in order to toss a new play idea on the table. Hermione was studying right alongside Harry, helping describe to him anything he didn't understand. They sometimes took turns reading aloud to one another when they both grew sick of simply reading in silence. With Hermione's help, Harry was managing to keep his studies up so far, only by studying into the late hours of the night.

Harry and Hermione sat together at a corner table in the Common Room. It was Friday evening and they were planning out the Defense Association meeting for the following night.

“Do you think I should start off with the basics again?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I do. You shouldn't jump right in with hard stuff, people will feel overwhelmed.”

“Okay. So, I'll start off with `Expelliarmus' then. I'm not positive, but I think we'll be able to move on to some easy jinxes as well by the end of the meeting.”

“Where do you plan on holding the meetings?” Hermione asked as Harry scribbled down their ideas.

“Er, I was just going to have it in the Room of Requirement again. It's really the best place for it, with all the supplies I need there. Besides, I'm sure it will expand to fit everyone if that's what we desire.”

“Good point. Do you have any idea how many people are going to show up?”

Harry shook his head. “All I know is that there will only be fourth years and above, since otherwise the spells will be much too difficult and that there will be people from every house there.” Harry set down his quill. “Unfortunately,” he added darkly.

“Quit worrying about the Slytherins already, you've been on about it all week,” Hermione scorned. “They have to respect you and even if they don't, it's their loss. It's just like any other time you have to deal with them.”

Harry frowned. “No, it's not. During the meetings it's different, because if a few people don't listen to me, then that ruins my entire reputation right off the bat. The Slytherins don't want to be there; they don't care! They'd much rather enroll in a Dark Arts club and practice the curses we're learning to counter. They're only coming because Snape is forcing them to, and it will just be another excuse for Malfoy to have time to insult me.”

“Well, if he does, then you'll just have to tell Dumbledore-”

“I'm not going to Dumbledore because Malfoy's being a git. He's got bigger things to worry about. Besides, I've already tried telling him that the Slytherins won't listen to me, but he's too hung up on his unity and peace fantasies to care.”

“I think Dumbledore is wise to try to unite us more. He's right to take what the Sorting Hat told us to heart….”

“He's also idealistic. The Slytherins are never going to join hands with us and start skipping down the halls. It goes both ways; I don't particularly want to be friends with future Death Eaters as much as Malfoy doesn't want to be my friend.”

“You don't have to like each other to be civil,” Hermione said pointedly. “You haven't even held a meeting with the Slytherins attending yet. For all you know, they could behave reasonably.”

Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing aloud. He didn't want to make Hermione mad at him, so he put on a resigned face and said, “Maybe you're right. I guess I'll wait and see.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Now that's a better attitude.”

Harry rolled his eyes when she turned away from him. There was a better chance of Malfoy and him marrying than there was of them ever getting along. And he didn't have a negative attitude simply because he realized that that was the truth. Hermione and Dumbledore were the only ones who believed it could be any other way. If Ron had been there, he would have agreed with him.

As if on cue, as soon as Harry thought of Ron, he came in through the portrait hole. He had his Flash with him, which told Harry he had been out flying. Ron apparently didn't see either Harry or Hermione, because he headed straight upstairs.

Harry set about to gathering up the parchment he had been writing ideas down on.

“Wanna head down to the kitchens and nick some food? I've worked up an appetite.” Ron was standing over him, no longer carrying his broomstick. He held his stomach as if to prove he was hungry.

“Alright.” Harry agreed to accompany him. “I've been meaning to visit Dobby anyway.”

Suddenly Hermione sprang from her seat. “Wait for me! I'll come too.” With that she dashed upstairs.

“What is she on about now?” Ron groaned. He didn't wait long to find out. A minute later, Hermione reemerged from the girl's staircase, a couple colorful knit caps in hand.

“I knitted them this summer for Dobby and Winky,” she said brightly. Harry and Ron both let out exasperated groans and turned away without her. “What?” she said, catching up to them. “What?”

“Nothing,” they muttered in unison.

When they reached the portrait of a bowl of fruit, Ron reached up and tickled the pear. The picture swung to the side, allowing them access to the kitchen. Inside was hectic. A sea of tiny house elves bobbed around, cleaning and stacking dishes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione's presence didn't go unnoticed for long, however. Almost as soon as they set foot inside the kitchen two house elves came bustling up to them, a plate of tarts and a pitcher of pumpkin juice in eager hand.

“Hey, thanks,” Ron said as he grabbed some tarts off the plate and then took the glass of pumpkin juice the other elf handed him.

“Would sir and miss like some as well?” the elf with the tarts asked in a squeaky voice, shoving the plate in front of Harry.

“Er, no thanks,” Harry said, pushing the plate away.

The elves began retreating but Ron halted them.

“Hold on!” He pocketed a few more tarts. “I'll take a few more of these for later.”

“Harry Potter, sir!”

Before Harry even had time to look for the source of his name, a colorful bundle smashed into his legs, gripping them tightly.

“Hello Dobby.” Harry grinned.

Dobby removed himself from Harry's legs and beamed up at him.

“Harry Potter has come to visit Dobby at last! Dobby is so happy to see sir again.” Dobby looked around at Ron and Hermione. “And sir's bringing his Wheezy and miss too. Hello Wheezy, hello miss!”

“Hi, Dobby,” Hermione said. “Good summer?”

“Yes, Dobby is traveling into Hogsmeade on occasion and even going to Diagon Alley once. Look! Dobby is buying new socks with his pay-check!” He pulled up his bright, baggy orange pants to reveal many layers of socks, the topmost with smiley-faces and tie-die peace signs that danced and flashed.

“Those are really…err…neat,” Harry lied, catching Ron's eye.

Hermione handed Dobby a blue and orange stripped stocking cap she had with her. “Here you go, Dobby. I made it for you this summer.”

Dobby took it with trembling hands. “Miss is making Dobby a hat? Miss is thinking of Dobby over the summer. Dobby knew miss must be great to be so kind to Dobby and Winky, to be Harry Potter's girlfriend, but never this great!”

“Hermione's not my girlfriend,” Harry quickly corrected under Ron's sudden glare. “She's just my good friend.”

“Right. Harry Potter's girlfriend.” Dobby repeated.

“Er, yeah,” Harry said. “Sorry, I thought you meant it in a different way….”

“So, how's Winky fairing?” Hermione was quick to change the subject. When Harry glanced over at her, he thought she looked a little flushed.

“Oh, Winky is getting much better!” He leaned close to her ear, causing Harry and Ron to move closer as well. “She's given up her drink, but now she's having bad dreams all the times. She's awfully quiet now at times, but then she'll be a little too loud at others.”

“Can we see her?” Hermione asked. “I've got a hat to give her as well.”

“Ooo, yes, of course. Winky will be loving a gift; maybe it will be making her smile again.”

They followed Dobby back to the rear of the kitchen where Winky was sitting slumped on a stool against the wall, staring stone-cold at the wall across from her.

“Winky, we is having visitors! Look! Miss has made you something!”

Hermione halfheartedly held out the hat, her spirits sinking when Winky took no notice. She dropped it on her lap instead. “Here you go, Winky. I hope you like pink.”

Apparently Winky did like pink, as that was what her billowing dress was colored. Although she wasn't as erratically dressed as Dobby, she too had mismatched socks and a tie hanging from her neck.

Suddenly Winky seemed to come out of her reverie as she smiled abnormally wide and then knocked the cap onto the floor before grinding it under her heel.

Hermione took a step back and her shoulders slumped in disappointment and shock.

“WINKY!” Dobby cried. He pointed a finger at her and a second later she was dangling a foot off the ground, her back firmly against the wall. “APOLOGIZE TO MISS! She is making a nice gift for Winky and Winky should be ashamed of herself for not acting grateful!”

“Dobby let me go!” Winky complained, wriggling around in the air.

“First apologize to miss!”

Winky plastered a clearly fake grin on her face and said in a tone to rival Umbridge's, “Winky is terribly sorry. She was not meaning to let miss know how much she could care less about her cap.”

“Winky!” Dobby warned.

“I mean… Winky is sorry. Winky likes miss's gift very much.”

Dobby seemed to find that satisfactory, though she was obviously being sarcastic, and he set her back on her feet again.

Harry glanced over at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and found her eyes were turning red and puffy.

“Er, Dobby. We have to go. I'll stop back in again some other time though.” Though I won't be bringing Hermione back here anytime soon, he thought to himself.

Dobby looked very sad to see them go. “Oh, okay. Thank you for coming to see Dobby, Harry Potter and Wheezy. Thank you for the cap miss. Dobby very much likes it. Winky does too; she is just being stubborn is all.”

Hermione nodded and then quickly turned on her heel, leaving the kitchen. Harry and Ron followed close behind her. Once they were heading back through the Entrance Hall, they caught up with her.

“Hermione, don't worry about it. That bloody house-elf didn't know what she was talking about,” Ron coaxed. “I told you that you were being too nice to them in the first place. You shouldn't have bothered. Winky has always been an even bigger weirdo than Dobby.”

“Don't you see why you're wrong, Ron?” Hermione said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “She acts that way because of how Mr. Crouch treated her. She's been neglected and this is apparently her new way of coping with it. I'm just sad that there's nothing I can do to make her feel better.”

“Wha-what? You're still sympathizing with her after what she just did?” Ron exclaimed.

They reached the Gryffindor Common room. “It's not what she did that I sympathize with, Ron, it's why she did it. If you had half a heart you'd realize it too.”

“Yeah, well if you had half an ounce of common sense, then you'd see what a pillock she was being and you wouldn't feel so sorry for her after the way she acted!”

Hermione sighed and headed up to her dormitory. Ron turned to Harry.

“What is it with her offensive creature loving habit?”

“I guess she sees something in Winky that we don't,” Harry said pointedly. As hard as he tried to see things from Hermione's point of view, he had to agree with Ron. If he had taken the time to make something for someone and they just threw it back in his face, he wouldn't be about to carry on about how sorry he felt for them.

The next day, what Harry viewed as his day off, passed by too quickly to be to Harry's liking. When Hermione set off to spend some time alone with Ginny, Harry and Ron spent a good portion of the day out on the grounds with Dean and Seamus. Dean showed Ron, Seamus, and Harry how to play football with the ball he had brought with him to school. Harry had only played a few times in gym class so he did not remember the rules very well. Seamus was in basically the same situation he was, having attended a muggle primary school. Ron, however, was not fairing as well. He seemed to have a major problem with the entire concept of simply kicking a ball around when there were no bludgers flying at your head and your feet maintained constant contact with the ground.

Despite Ron's initial puzzlement, in the end he got more into the game than even Dean. Every time the ball was relatively near him, he kicked it as hard as he could while Harry cheered him on from in between the two bushes they were using as a goal. After a while they gathered a bit of a crowd, as many witches and wizards had never seen the sport before, and a few muggle-borns who had grown up playing football joined in as well, happy to be able to play the sport they had not played in years.

In the end, Harry and Ron's team- the Pixies- lost to Dean's strong skills, but only by a few points. Then they met up with Hermione at dinner and afterwards all headed to the Room of Requirement together to prepare for the Defense Association meeting. Focusing hard on what they wanted, they passed back and forth in front of a patch of wall until a door appeared and they entered. Inside, shelves were lined with books and dark-detectors and the floor was decorated with pillows; everything had been magically repaired from when Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad tore the room apart.

“I hope you're right about this place expanding to fit more people in,” Ron commented as he looked around the room. Harry saw Ron was right; it would be very hard to cram any more people than last year into the room and still have enough space to practice spells.

“Hey, what's this?” Ron had wandered over to the shelves and now picked up a small round object. It looked like a magnifying glass without its handle, only the glass was black. Ron began shaking it roughly like a magic 8-ball and then peered into it again. “Nothing's happening. What a load of junk.” He tossed it back onto the shelf. Hermione meandered over to them and scooped it up as if it were some precious gem she had found lying on the ground.

“Do you have any idea what this is?” she breathed, clearly excited. “It's a Scrying Glass. They're really rare. Archaic magicians used to use them to spy on other wizards. Apparently, a spirit is trapped inside that can show you whatever you want, but only if it will obey your command. That's why they aren't made anymore, they gave people too much trouble and Spirit Magic- when witches and wizards would summon beings from the Other Realm and the like- was outlawed back during the construction of Rome and Greece. The only people who ever made them to begin with were the Egyptians, and only the elite at that. I wonder how one ended up here….”

“There's no such thing as Spirit Magic,” Ron said dismissively.

“Yes there is, or rather was. It's like I said; it was outlawed long ago.”

“Why'd they outlaw it?” Harry asked.

“It's dangerous to mess with the Other Realm- the Spirit World,” she said as Ron opened his mouth to ask what the Other Realm was. He promptly closed it again, content. “Demons and Spirits of the Light are powerful beings. Only a handful of wizards ever accomplished summoning them; most lost their lives trying. If a malicious spirit were to escape into the mortal realm, the results could be disastrous, even apocalyptic.” She shook her head. “It's a good thing they outlawed it. Most people,” she glanced over at Ron, “don't even know it existed today because it's so obsolete.”

Ron glanced uneasily at the Scrying Glass. “Er, Hermione, you don't reckon that thing could escape now, do you?”

“Ron, if it was going to escape, don't you think that it would have done so by now? Besides, these were made with Spirits of the Light. Even if it did escape, it wouldn't do you much harm.” Ron looked incredibly relieved at the thought. “That is unless it's angry for being locked up for so long and places an unbreakable curse over you,” Hermione added as an afterthought. Ron gulped, weary eyes traveling back over the Scrying Glass again.

“Hermione, when you say the Other Realm, do you mean, like, Heaven?” Harry questioned.

Hermione shrugged. “Even the greatest witches and wizards in existence don't know the secrets of the spirit world; all they know is that one exists. I suppose that's where souls end up when people die, but I'm not sure whether it's divided into a Heaven and Hell. Last I knew, people were studying the matter in the Department of Mysteries….”

Harry's mind was rushing, his heart pounding. If souls were found in this Other Realm, maybe he could reach to Sirius using the Scrying Glass….

“Are we early?”

Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ginny, Katie, Luna, Colin Creevy, Susan Bones, Parvati, Lavender, Padma, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and Ernie Macmillan all entered the room and plopped down on a pillow. Hermione and Ron joined them but Harry hung back for a second and slipped the Scrying Glass off the shelf and into his pocket, taking care that no one noticed.

“So, what have you got planned for today?” Seamus asked.

“We're going to start off with the basics.”

There was a collective groan. “We already know the basics,” said Lavender.

“I'm sorry, but a quick review will do us all some good. After all, it wouldn't be fair to the new members to simply pick up where we left off.”

“The Slytherins might not be able to keep up if we don't start from `Expelliarmus' again,” Dean remarked. Everyone, with the exception of Hermione and Luna, laughed.

“Think of it this way,” Harry said. “You've all been here before, but the Slytherins haven't. You'll all have a clear advantage over them.”

“Ha! They won't even be able to do a Patronus, I bet,” Ginny said. There was a murmuring of agreement and several wicked grins surfaced.

“If they are able to do them, it'll be because they had to learn in order to help their Death Eater dads to control the Dementors while they're around,” Justin remarked smartly.

“We'll see I guess,” Harry said. “But that won't be for a few lessons.”

“We'll see what, Potter? How pathetic you are at instructing? I doubt we'll have to wait a few lessons to see that.” Malfoy sauntered into the room, flanked by a large group of glowering Slytherins. Like Harry expected, as the Slytherins entered, the room seemed to expand outwards from each side, dwarfing its occupants. They all headed to the back of the room and sat there in an isolated group. Many had their arms crossed in front of them with scowls on their faces; clearly they didn't want to be there.

Harry chose to ignore the comment. Over the next few minutes, a few straggling Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws tiptoed in and joined the large prismatic group.

While he waited, Harry fretted over ways to make himself feel more, well, official. I need a desk…. Obeying his will, a broad wooden desk appeared behind him, complete with a high-backed chair and a jar full of quills.

“Okay then, let's get started,” Harry said, leaning back on the desk in what he hoped was a casual fashion. The chatter died down and soon Harry held most everyone's attention. Under everyone's piercing gaze, Harry felt his hands grow sweaty and his tongue suddenly felt much too big to be in his mouth. “Er, I-I thought that we'd start off with a basic spell that…that...”

Malfoy laughed in the back of the room, a very satisfied expression on his face.

“Er, that I've found really useful over- over the years,” Harry continued. He tugged at the collar of his shirt; the room was incredibly hot. Ron sat at his feet, smiling encouragingly up at him. Next to him, Hermione mouthed the word Harry couldn't manage to remember.

“Right, the `Expelliarmus' spell. True, it's a really basic spell, but it's very useful-”

“Is this some sort of a joke?” Pansy Parkinson said while many of the Slytherins around her snickered.

“Actually, no, it's not,” Harry said, growing agitated. “It's already saved me from Voldemort and helped me escape from peril last year as well.”

There was a collective intake of breath and the Slytherins who had been snickering promptly shut up and instead looked disgusted.

“So if we all pair off we can take turns practicing the spell on each other. Try to disarm your opponent, but only disarm for now. I don't want to send anyone down to the Hospital Wing on the first day.” He smiled mischievously. “We'll save that for another time.”

Everyone paired up and soon there was a roaring din from all of the spells being shouted out. Ron and Hermione stood in front of him, rapidly shooting the spell at one another. Hermione allowed her wand to hang in a loose grip as she uninterestedly blocked all of Ron's attempts.

“Harry,” she said. “You should probably have everyone write down their names before they leave- Expelliarmus. Come on, Ron, you can do better than that, can't you?”

“Why? Wait a minute, you didn't hex the parchment again, did you?”

“There's no need to this time, there's no real secrecy involved- Expelliarmus! It's so that you know who's attending and you can begin ordering a grading system.”

“Good point, although I have no desire whatsoever to do that in the near future.”

“Well, you're going to have to do it in the near future. Don't worry, I'll help.”

“Ah, you're a life-saver Hermione.” Harry began making rounds, assessing where everyone stood. He made a few comments here-and-there, when he felt it was necessary, and gave a few orders.

“Nott, I said `Expelliarmus' only!”

“Sorry, sir,” Nott said contemptuously, restoring Padma's rightful nose to her body.

“I bet you wish the Slytherins weren't here.”

Harry turned to see Cho Chang standing behind him, eyeing Nott with clear distaste. Harry was startled to find her there because he hadn't seen her come in.

“Er, it'd be nice if they weren't here.”

“Are we going to be practicing our Patronuses again this year?”

“Yes, we will in a few weeks, if all goes according to plan.”

“Ooo, good. I love my Patronus, it's so pretty.”

Harry recalled that hers was a swan. For lack of anything better to say, he commented, “Yours was a swan, right?”

She smiled. “Yes, how'd you remember?”

“I only remember because it was so graceful, the way it flowed around the room.”

“You know,” Cho said, taking a step closer to him. “If I remember correctly, Patronuses take on a form that reflects the wizard that cast it.”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“A stag's a really strong, regal animal, don't you think?”

“I suppose so, I've never really thought about it…” Harry noticed what she was getting at and color slowly crawled up his cheeks. What was he supposed to say to that? She was obviously flirting with him, and he had no idea what to say that wouldn't hurt her feelings.

He was spared the trouble when someone shouted a few pairs over, drawing his attention.

“AHA! I finally got you!”

Hermione turned away, but not quickly enough for Harry to miss the livid expression on her face. Ron was doing a little victorious jig as he yelled out to Harry, “Hey! I disarmed Hermione!”

Harry wound his way over to them, leaving Cho standing alone with her partner, a Ravenclaw girl with light blonde hair Harry didn't know.

Hermione retrieved her wand from the ground and said disconcertedly, “That's only because I wasn't paying attention.”

“Don't try to take away from my victory with some lame excuse. I disarmed you and that's all there is to it.” He folded his arms in front of him as if that settled it and stuck out his tongue childishly for good measure.

“Expelliarmus!” Ron's wand flew into Hermione's awaiting hand.

“Hey! That's not fair! Harry, tell her that's not fair!”

Harry was too busy laughing to tell Hermione off. “Seems fair enough to me, mate.”

“Well, who asked you anyway?” Ron requited. Hermione tossed his wand back to him. “So, was Cho complimenting you on your Quidditch skills again?” Ron batted his eyelashes. “Oh Harry, you're so great, you're great competition. Perhaps I can help you service your broom sometime?”

Harry chucked a pillow from the ground directly at Ron's face. Ron doubled over in peals of laughter. Harry felt the color creep into his cheeks.

“When did Cho say all of that?” Hermione asked, her voice oddly formal. She did not meet Harry's eye, but instead busied herself in re-tying her shoes. Harry had to restrain himself from hexing Ron.

“We just ran into each other last night on the way back from playing Quidditch.”

“Oh. Well, that's nice.”

“Not really,” Harry said truthfully. He swore that that evoked a tiny smile from Hermione. He didn't really understand why she was acting all weird about it in the first place. It seemed like every time Cho was mentioned, even last year, Hermione would go all business-like or quiet on him. Maybe she was afraid that he would forget about her if he was dating someone else, which was of course preposterous- like he could ever forget her. Even if that was the case, it didn't matter anyway- Harry was less interested in Cho than in flobberworms.

He decided that they had been practicing disarming spells long enough and decided to move onto minor jinxes instead.

“Hey, that's enough! You can stop now!” he yelled as loud as he could. No one paid him any notice. Dean and Seamus continued dodging behind other people in order to gain an advantage on one another, Ginny continued disarming Neville over and over again, and Katie had given up practicing all together as her partner, Luna, had wandered over to the shelves to examine the items placed there.

Growing frustrated, Harry pointed his wand at his own throat and said, “Sonorous.” When he tried again, his voice was so loud that it seemed to fill the room. “Excuse me! That's enough! We're moving on now!” Harry could practically see everyone's feet simultaneously leave the ground a few inches when he began talking. Satisfied that he had gained their attention, he muttered, “Quietus,” and walked to his desk at the front of the room. “That was very good. Now, let's move on to some jinxes.”

All of the Defense Association members signed a sheet of parchment before they left, as Hermione had suggested. Harry was surprised that he only had to deduct a sum of twenty points from the Slytherins for either back-talking him or practicing unsanctioned jinxes. However, he was not surprised that Malfoy was proving to be a real problem. Harry couldn't say one thing without Malfoy countering it with some snotty comment under his breath. He had difficulties focusing on what he was trying to teach when the Slytherins all broke out laughing every five words.

“Well that was pretty productive,” Hermione said as they returned to the Common Room.

“Yeah, as long as the Slytherins clean up their act,” Harry said grimly, upset that the Slytherins had ruined his otherwise perfect first lesson.

Ron clapped his hand on his back as they stepped over a Wizards Chess game two first years were engaged in on the floor. “Don't worry, mate. I'm sure they'll come `round; it's nothing that a few points knocked off won't fix anyway.” Harry smiled but inwardly doubted that anything would make people like Malfoy listen to him. Dumbledore was crazy to believe there was any way they could ever get along.

-->

A/N: First off, I would like to apologize for my extremely long break between chapters! Please give me a chance to explain, though I know it makes little difference to you. School, as usual, is consuming more and more of my time to the extent that I do nothing else; I'm sorry for this, but I'll never be able to pursue the writing career I want if I disregard my studies now, and this fanfic is just for fun in the end. Also, I've been ultra-busy with the holidays and my best friend died recently, so I've been dealing with that.

This chapter is a bit shorter than they have been lately, but it's decent length nonetheless and perhaps some of you will prefer that. Anyway, more will be coming just as soon as I can get around to writing it- I promise.

Also, for those of you who have been asking when the Harry/Hermione romance will play in more prominently, it is coming, and when it does come I think you'll rather enjoy it. In the meantime, please bask in the Harry/Hermione goodness that is already present- because there's quite a bit of it, even if it isn't accompanied with flashing red lights and sirens to alert you to its immediate presence.

Sorry again, and thank you very much for your patience and understanding, and for continuing to return to the story despite my inconsideration,

Casey (padfootmoony13)

Chapter 19- Giddiness and Shame

Sunday evening arrived and brought with it gloomy weather. Rain pattered against the corridor windows as Harry made his way to Dumbledore's office. Once he was settled in a warm and comfy chair, a tiny cup with dregs of tea left forgotten at the bottom like men lost to the sea, their lessons began.

“Now, let's get started, shall we?” Dumbledore announced merrily, gently setting his cup on the matching plate next to him. In one flowing, graceful movement he stood and Harry soon followed. “Professor Snape has built a great base for us to build off of…” Harry made a faint sound of disapproval under his breath. “…now all you must do is focus. I must ask you to do that, Harry, because no matter how long I spend teaching you, it is all completely futile without a true positive effort on your part. Now, stand still and face me- look me in the eye. Good. Ready? 1, 2, 3 Legilimens.”

Harry felt the effect of the spell instantly. Before he had a chance to settle his thoughts, images popped one after the other into his mind's eye, flickering like a projector slideshow. Snape was standing over him with a wicked sneer on his face, frowning at the contents of his cauldron and vanishing them with a wave of his wand… Mr. Weasley and Lupin were led through the doorway in the back of the courtroom before it slammed shut… he and Hermione were studying together in the library… Sirius was flying away from the castle on Buckbeak… Sirius' head was in the fire, green and detached… Sirius was falling backwards into the veil…”

“NOOOOOO!” Harry was on the ground, his head throbbing. He opened his eyes to the painful light of the fire beside him and squinted up at Dumbledore, who was standing unnaturally still and looking straight at him. Harry knew Dumbledore had lifted the spell after the last image in an attempt to spare him, but he wasn't quick enough. His chest constricted in something quite different from the ache of the spell.

He groaned as he raised himself to his feet, using the chair behind him for support. Dumbledore continued looking at him, although Harry felt that he was almost looking through him. He didn't need that. Hadn't Dumbledore seen his thoughts enough already? Hadn't Harry just exposed how weak he was, and now Dumbledore was scrutinizing him yet again like some specimen under a microscope.

“I have to go Professor, I'm not feeling well.”

“Harry, I-”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Harry said firmly. “I'll be sure to be a good boy and practice until next week. Goodnight, Professor.”

Harry barely heard the faint, “Goodnight, Harry. I'm sorry,” as he closed the door and strode back through the deserted hallways, straight to his bed, where he pulled the covers up to his chin, curled up on his side, and considered whether or not he could control the weather- because it seemed to be reflecting his mood perfectly.

The next morning Harry was miserable. How had he forgotten that Sirius' image was bound to come up during Occlumency lessons? The physical toll on his mind was tough to bear with, let alone the pain that accompanied his darkest thoughts. How was he ever going to be able to go through the lessons without being driven insane with the thoughts stoked from the fire in his mind like failing logs?

As Harry struggled with this, Ron and Hermione walked alongside him down to Hagrid's Hut for their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the year. It was the only class the three had together, and if Harry had been in a better mood he would have been enjoying it. Instead, Hermione and Ron were arguing about what Hagrid would likely have for them to observe. Hermione thought it would be an ashwinder while Ron insisted it would be a new hybrid of a dragon and a basilisk that Hagrid construed over the summer.

“Or maybe he'll show everyone Grawp!” Ron offered as they walked down the hill toward the small stone cabin where a small crowd of red and green was already gathered; they were stuck with the Slytherins again.

“Ron, come off it,” Harry said grumpily. “Hagrid's not that clueless. He's not about to announce the existence of his half-brother to the entire school, when keeping Grawp here is illegal in the first place.”

“It was only a suggestion was all,” Ron replied defensively. “Blimey, what's gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Harry muttered, taking a seat on the lawn. Hermione sat down close beside him, crossing her legs in front of her.

“Did something happen in Occlumency?” She asked quietly while Ron chatted with Seamus a little ways along the hill. Harry nodded, plucking a strand of grass from the ground and twirling it in between his fingers. “Do you want to talk about it?” Harry shook his head `no'. Then he found himself talking anyway, feeling the need to let his worries out.

“It's just I've been having really bad dreams ever since, you know, that day,” Harry turned to face her. “And now with Occlumency lessons, I'm being forced to relive those memories again, you know? And not only that, but Dumbledore's observing me the whole time. Who knows what's going on inside his head? He probably thinks I'm pathetic.”

“He doesn't think that,” Hermione said quickly, grabbing his shoulder. “And you should look at these lessons as a blessing rather than a punishment.”

“How so?”

“First of all, there's no Snape anymore, so that's good.” Harry smiled slightly despite himself. He had to agree with her on that one. “And this will also prevent something like that from ever happening again.” She hesitated at the word `that', careful not to upset him. “Think about it. Once you know Occlumency well enough, you can probably control your own thoughts to some extent as well as block other people from your thoughts. Maybe it will help you get rid of your bad dreams.”

“I guess you're right,” Harry said sullenly as Ron approached and sat down on his other side.

“Where's Hagrid?” Ron asked. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen.

“He probably was taking a walk through the woods and got his bushy hair tangled in some branches.” Harry twisted his neck around to see Malfoy flanked by his cronies. “If you're quiet you can hear some screams… `Help, I'm stuck in a bloody tree's branches again!'”

“Shove it, Malfoy,” Hermione said above the Slytherins' laughter.

“Why of course you're sympathetic Granger. You've probably had the same thing happen to you at least a few times, with that….is that really hair? Gosh, it looks more like a Doxy's nest.”

“You're one to talk, Malfoy,” Ron said defensively, standing up alongside Harry to meet him face-to-face, “With that greasy smattering of hair. Tell me, what's your secret? Do you just take the grease from your forehead to slick it back like that, or do you use the slime from your snotty nose?”

Malfoy abruptly stopped laughing. His face turned red and his hand clenched his wand tight in his pocket.

“You're going to pay for that o-”

“`Ello Harry, Ron. Is there a problem here?” Hagrid was standing behind Malfoy, a huge burlap sack slung over his shoulder.

“I don't know, is there a problem Malfoy?” Harry said in a tone he knew tormented him.

“None,” Malfoy said icily, and continued under his breath, “that I need some filthy half-giant to handle.”

Luckily Hagrid didn't appear to hear him. He smiled and said, “Good. Let's all settle down on the lawn here then.”

“Hagrid, what's in the sack?” Ron asked, pointing at it.

“Oh tha'. Yeh'll see in a moment. I've got a great lesson planned fer today, yeh're gonna love it.”

“Does it involve anything fire-breathing by any chance?” Ron asked uneasily.

“Nah, not these. I know that sounds like a bit of a disappointment, but I assure yeh it'll be a good lesson jus' the same.”

“Oh, I think I'll still enjoy it.”

Hagrid grinned and said, “That's the spirit!” before they followed him over to a long wooden table set out to the side of his hut, along the edge of the forest. “I was `specting to see yeh three down here `fore now,” Hagrid continued as they continued.

“We're sorry, Hagrid,” Hermione said. “We've been meaning to, honestly, but….”

“Aw, yeh don' have ter explain, Hermione. I understand yeh all have schoolwork to be tending to. `Specially you, Harry, from what Dumbledore tells me. Lord knows I'm proud of yeh, taking on all this responsibility in preparation for fulfilling the-”

“Er, yeah Hagrid. Thanks,” Harry blurted, frantically meeting Hagrid's eye to warn him to stop. Luckily Hagrid seemed to pick up on the fact that something was wrong, and he dutifully changed topic. Harry almost fainted with relief.

“Can yeh all make it down here Thursday evening for a short visit? Bring yer cloak.”

“We can manage that alright,” Ron replied as they stood alongside the table.

Hagrid swung the sack down on the table as he smiled at them. Then he straightened back up again, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey! Gather `round, gather `round. The lesson's startin'.”

Everyone filed less-than-eagerly over to the table. Parvati stood with her arms crossed in front of her, scowling at the empty table. Lavender blew a large bubble of gum and allowed it to pop loudly. She leaned over close to Parvati's ear and whispered, “I do hope this class will be better than last year. Of course, our only hope for that rests in whether or not Professor Grubbly-Plank returns.”

Parvati grinned wickedly and whispered back, “I don't see why they can't hire her in addition to Hagrid. I mean, both Firenze and Trelawney are teaching Divination now, aren't they? Like, maybe Hagrid could teach the lower classes and Grubbly-Plank could take the upper. After all, the earlier classes are easier, I'm sure Hagrid could at least manage those.”

“They aren't as important either. Now that we're moving into some of the more complicated creatures, it only makes sense that our teacher should be..." she trailed off and glanced contemptuously at Hagrid out of the corner of her eye, “basically competent.”

Parvati nodded seriously as both she and Lavender reestablished their disapproving composure.

“I ought to hex them both into oblivion,” Ron snarled to Harry under his breath. They were both standing near Parvati and Lavender and overheard their little debasing conversation.

Harry held out his hand cautiously as Ron slowly withdrew his wand; as happy as he would have been to allow Ron to hex them both, even shoot a few himself, he didn't think they'd think it was such a good idea after they were both shoved on a train back to their homes.

“Now, let me show yeh what I've got `ere,” Hagrid announced. He reached a hand into the sack and withdrew a jar the size of an average jam jar. Inside, a tiny brilliant blue creature with a stinger attached to its rear and wings attached to its head flitted around, buzzing against the sides of the jar. It twirled around the jar, observing everyone through its tiny bug eyes. Several people started laughing and whispering to the people next to them, clearly happy at Hagrid's choice of creatures for the day's lesson.

Hagrid had an enormous grin plastered on his face as he said, “Anyone know what this bugger is?”

Hermione's hand shot in the air, along with several others.

“Dean?” Hagrid pointed over at the boy.

“It's a billywig.”

“Very good. Ten points for Gryffindor. Now, can anyone tell me what billywigs are known for?”

Again, Hermione's hand was found high in the air. Hagrid pointed at her and she immediately began her deliverance.

“They're known for the effects of their sting. When a person is stung by a billywig, he or she will grow dizzy and loopy, feeling a strong sensation of light-headedness and silliness. Then they will levitate. The effects will last for around thirty minutes at most, although if the person is stung more than once in frequent intervals, he or she will feel the effects for a fair amount longer.”

“Exactly! Another ten points to Gryffindor! Now, what I want yeh to do today is tempt the billywigs with the food they like and then catch them in a jar. This is how yeh'd handle them in the wild, see, if yeh were tryin' to capture them. They like all sorts of sweet fruits, but I find they flock to sugar-coated strawberries the most. As they can prove to serve as a useful temporary pain medication in emergencies, it's good to know how to get yer hands on `em, since they're quick little things without the proper lure.

“Now, Dumbledore did me the service of comin' down `ere earlier and makin' this line here.” He traced the outline of a purple line in the shape of a hexagon drawn on the grass nearby with his finger. It was around the size of the Entrance Hall. “What'll happen is it will send out a shock at anything that walks over it, since its marks where an invisible cage, if yeh will, is.”

“Then how're we supposed to get in it, if it'll shock anyone that steps in or out of it?” Pansy Parkinson asked impatiently.

“I'm getting' to tha', give me a sec. As I was gonna say, it only delivers a slight shock. To us it will feel like a little buzz, a tiny vibration. It's like when yeh get hit with a spell, right, only slightly stronger. But to the billywigs, well, let's jus' say it'll hold `em back.

“So, grab a jar and head on into the hexagon. Don't be afraid of their sting, either. It won't really hurt more than a prick, and yeh won't feel much pain after tha' anyway.”

There was a slight stampede as everyone shoved forward eagerly to claim a jar. Crabbe and Goyle plowed through the group, shoving people out of the way.

“There's no need ter shove now, there's plenty to go around!” Hagrid yelled.

Harry and Ron finally reached the burlap sack and managed to get a hold of some jars. Harry grabbed one for Hermione as well, who was leaning patiently against a tree, waiting for the crowd to clear. She thanked him for his concern, evoking a smile from him and a frown from Ron.

“These ought to cheer you up a bit, Harry,” she commented as they stepped into the hexagon. Hagrid was right: it didn't hurt much at all. However, it was enough to startle many of the girls. Hermione frowned at them all distastefully and remarked, “Wimps,” under her breath. Harry smiled. When he thought about it, Hermione was substantially braver and stronger than most of the girls he knew around Hogwarts. Try as he might, he couldn't really imagine them doing half of the things she had done over the years on their many adventures together.

“Let's set these puppies free,” Ron said, twisting the lid of his jar off. The billywig shot out immediately and made a beeline for Ron, its rear end thrust toward him. Ron yelled and ducked down, but not quickly enough. The billywig's stinger made contact with Ron's shoulder, even as Ron thrashed his arms. It then pulled back out again and buzzed off. Harry stepped over and pulled Ron to his feet, laughing at his silly smirk.

Ron staggered a bit and giggled. “Bloody hell. You look kinda blurry, Harry. Are you moving really fast or am I just seeing things?”

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was laughing at Ron. “Yeah, I forgot to mention that vision is distorted a little too.”

Ron loped over to Seamus, stumbling back and forth like a drunk, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hello, Hermione! You look pretty today.” He fell into another fit of giggles.

Seamus gave him a strange look and took a slight step back. “Weasley, are you feeling alright?”

“Of course I am, Hermione! My, your voice sounds rather deep. Perhaps you are mistaken, for it sounds like it is you who is sick.”

Harry and Hermione doubled over in laughter. Soon billywigs were flying every which way, bouncing off the invisible walls with outraged cries. Harry and Hermione had both been stung once each and Ron had been stung twice more, when he tried to catch one in his bare hands straight out of midair. However, it turned out that the strong effects, including the levitation, only lasted for around five minutes; after that, all that was left was a lingering sense of euphoria and a grin.

Hagrid entered the dome with a large tray of sugar-coated strawberries and distributed one to everyone. When he handed Harry his, he leaned down and said, “I'd like to have a word with yeh after the lesson's up, if yeh don' mind.”

“No, of course I don't mind,” Harry replied. He did not have anything urgent to attend to, apart from lunch, as this was a double lesson. There was time to spare.

Harry located Ron and Hermione attempting to attract two billywigs to their jars, in which they had dropped their strawberries.

“This has been a surprisingly good lesson,” Ron commented, holding his jar an arm's length from himself. “I actually kinda like these things.”

“At least I haven't heard any complaints yet; that's always a good sign,” Hermione said cheerfully.

“Any idea how many billywigs Hagrid has? There certainly seems to be a lot,” Ron suddenly remarked.

“Er, I'd say around sixty,” Harry said as a billywig began inching its way toward his jar. “There were still around ten jars left in the sack. Why?”

“Just curious,” Ron replied impassively as his billywig finally flew down in the jar and he slammed the lid on it, trapping it in. The billywig did not like being imprisoned again, and it responded by buzzing around the jar wildly, rebounding off the sides purposefully. Ron had to wrestle to keep a firm grip on the jar.

“Bloody git,” he said though gritted teeth. “Calm down, would you?”

Harry caught his soon after, though it didn't put up as much of a struggle as Ron's. At first it also hit at the glass, but soon abandoned that maneuver, apparently content to enjoy its feast.

“Why did you get a calm one?” Ron frowned. The jar gave another violent lurch in his hands. He raised the jar in front of his face and yelled, “Would you bloody settle down already?!”

Hermione was also facing troubles with her billywig. It would continuously draw close and then dart away again, leaving Hermione exasperated.

She tossed the jar onto the grass beside her with a cry of frustration. “This method is so stupid! Why don't we simply use a Summoning Charm to catch them?” Harry and Ron both watched as she withdrew her wand, aimed it at the billywig hovering in front of her, and said, “Accio billywig!”

There was a flash of blue light and a high-pitched squeal. A second later the billywig in question was clutched limp in Hermione's hand. She stared at its droopy, still form with wide eyes. Then she loosened her grip and it only remained unmoving on her palm.

Ron leaned close and poked it with a finger. “What'd you do?”

“I-I don't know,” Hermione stammered. “I only summoned it and… is it dead?”

Harry picked it off her palm between two fingers and held it close to his face.

“Nope, it's just knocked out is all.”

“Ah, I figured someone would try an' summon one.” Hagrid peered over Harry's shoulder at the tiny blue, smoking mass.

“Harry didn't do it; Hermione did. We didn't even think about it,” Ron offered, earning a glare from Hermione, before she turned swiftly to meet Hagrid.

“I didn't mean to harm it, Hagrid. Honestly, I didn't. It's just my billywig wasn't responding and so I thought that summoning it would be a good idea and-”

Hagrid cut her off with a laugh and a pat on the shoulder. “There, there Hermione. It's alright. I forgot to mention tha' happens earlier, so it's my fault really. They're just too tiny to withstand it, plus there's somethin' about their defense mechanisms tha' causes it too. Besides, it's already startin' to heal. See?” He poked it with his finger and it rolled off Harry's palm onto the ground. “Eh, right,” said Hagrid, frowning at it warily. Hermione's eyes widened in concern. “Perhaps we'll give `im a few more minutes to recover.” He picked it up gingerly and dropped it into a jar. Tucking the jar under his arm, he made his way back to his hut.

The class ended with a group of very giddy and content sixth-years. Harry explained Hagrid wanted a quick word with him after he, Hermione, and Ron he expressed their approval with the day's lesson, for which Hagrid was extremely grateful.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Harry inquired as Ron and Hermione's heads disappeared over the top of the hill.

Hagrid suddenly grew a bit uneasy. “Um, let's head inside, shall we?”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, eyeing Hagrid suspiciously. Why was he acting so oddly all of the sudden?

They entered his stone hut and Fang bounded up to him, soaking Harry in slobber.

“Down Fang,” commanded Hagrid as he pulled him off Harry. He gestured at a chair large enough to fit Harry and Ron. “Have a seat.”

Hagrid took a seat opposite him and fixed him with a stern gaze.

“Well, first off I just wanted to ask you how you're doing.”

Harry peered at him quizzically. “I'm doing fine,” he said uncertainly.

Hagrid waved his hand dismissively. “Yeh know wha' I mean. How're you feeling after- yeh know- the incident.”

It finally clicked into Harry's mind what Hagrid meant and he suddenly felt very self-conscious and bothered. “Oh- that. I'm getting by.”

Hagrid looked at him with great sympathy. “Tha's good. Obviously yeh're not going ter be a hundred percent yet, but tha's to be expected. I've jus' been worried is all, ever since the end of last year. I couldn't be sure how yeh'd handle it- no one could. But as far as I can tell, yeh seem to be handling it well.” He gave him a slight encouraging smile. “And I'm also glad ter see yeh've stopped pushin' Ron and Hermione away.”

“What?”

“Oh, well, at the end of last year yeh seemed to be kinda closing yerself in, taking long leaves by yerself to go off somewhere, not talkin' as much. Ron and Hermione were going mad with concern. They'd be down here all the time- Hermione every day- tellin' me how worried they were about yeh and how they didn't seem to be able ter get through to yeh.” Harry looked out the window; he was growing rather ashamed of himself. Hagrid shook his head somberly and began talking almost to himself. “Poor Hermione, I've never seen her fret as much as she does lately, especially last year. She'll be steeling down here every other evening, carrying on about how worried she is, crying.” Harry looked up at him sharply. “She's worried sick about yeh, Harry. Bless her soul. She even took on this odd schedule this year ter try an' help yeh. And yeh know what? I think she's rather scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Of something happening ter yeh. Of not being able to understand yeh as much anymore, to understand what's wrong and what yeh're feelin'. Of yeh closin' yerself off from her.”

Harry focused his attention ashamedly at the floor. He had no idea Hermione was feeling all of this. She didn't show it.

“Listen, Harry. Hermione's a bright girl. She knows something's wrong. She seems to think there's somethin' yeh're not tellin' her about, and I do believe I'm right in sayin' that the fact that yeh're keeping something obviously significant to yeh from her scares her too.”

Harry felt a sudden overwhelming pressure closing in on him from all sides. It grew hard to breathe normally. He rose and stood by the open window, glaring out at the grounds.

“Harry, is she right? Is there somethin' yeh aren't tellin' her? Something yeh're not telling Ron either?” Hagrid said softly.

Harry's shame was making him feel angry. He didn't feel like being questioned at the moment. He didn't need to be a legilimens to know that Hagrid was referring to the Prophecy. He must have caught on to the fact that Ron and Hermione didn't yet know when Harry silenced him earlier.

“I don't want to talk about it,” he said stubbornly. “I've told them all they need to know for now.”

“An' what exactly do yeh mean by `fer now'”?

“I mean until I'm ready to talk about it, which I'm currently not! It's my business! I can tell them whenever I bloody well want!”

Hagrid stood up suddenly, a movement that was quite powerful and intimidating given his stature. He grabbed Harry by the shoulder and turned him around to face him, which immensely scared Harry. Hagrid rarely grew angry.

“Now you listen ter me!” Hagrid yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “They have a right ter know! Yeh can't just keep on lying ter them an' think tha's alright, because it's not! How'd yeh feel if yeh found out Ron was lying ter yeh. And about something as important as his role in the War and future? Yeh should be bloody ashamed of yerself!”

Harry tried to twist himself from Hagrid's grasp, but his grip was too strong.

“Hermione's been cryin' over this, likely every day! Cryin'! An' all `cuz yeh're too cowardly to tell her the truth! Tha's not fair, Harry, and I know yeh know it ain't.”

Harry gave a mighty twist and Hagrid released him.

“I can't tell them yet Hagrid! You don't understand! And I can tell whoever I want whenever I want, since the Prophecy's about me. Not them- me. I didn't ask for the burden of it and they certainly don't need it either!”

“Harry, yeh're jus' hurting `em more by not telling `em.”

Harry didn't know what to say. The accusations Hagrid had thrown at him had hit him hard, and now his vision was growing blurry and his forehead was tightening near his temples and he did the only thing he could think of over his anger and disgrace: he ran. He tore out the back door, up the hill, past the castle, around the lake, and up onto the top of the hill behind it. There he faced the lake and screamed. The birds nestled in the trees behind him took flight as his roar echoed through the valley below. Then he collapsed to the ground onto his back and wished desperately for a form of Occlumency that allowed him to block out his inner thoughts, rather than outer.

A/N: Thanks again for being patient and continuing to read!

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Chapter 20- Admittance and Reunion

When Ron and Hermione questioned Harry about his conversation with Hagrid upon his arrival to lunch, he brushed it off, stating simply that Hagrid was checking up on how his summer had been. Harry was careful to avoid Hermione's eyes as he said this, instead pretending to be extremely interested in his food, which he merely pushed around his plate with his fork. He could feel her gaze penetrating him from across the table the entire meal, but whenever he looked up at her she only gave him a warm smile. Harry was grateful that Ron was too preoccupied with thoughts about Quidditch to pay him much concern. Even as he shoveled food down with his right hand, Ron's left hand was scrawling busily away at a play he entitled “Sink and Dash.”

After lunch Ron headed off to his next lesson and Harry made directly for the library. However, he didn't make it more than a few steps up the stairs when Hermione called out to him.

“Harry! Wait!”

She appeared in front of him, heaving her bag back onto her shoulder with both hands.

“I want to know the truth,” she said simply.

The unease and panic he had felt a short while earlier returned full blast. He couldn't do this. He couldn't tell her.

“What are you on about?” he snapped moodily, shoving past her.

She caught up to him quickly, running up in front of him again and holding her arm straight out against his chest, pushing him back. Tears were gathering in her eyes and Harry had to bite his lip and turn his face away from her, the sight hurt him so much.

“Stop doing this to me, Harry,” she pleaded. “Why won't you just tell me what's really wrong?”

Harry took a deep breath, met her eyes again, and made up his mind.

“Follow me,” he said plainly, grabbing her hand and leading her up the stairs and down a deserted corridor. They reached a seemingly ordinary wall. Harry released her hand, closed his eyes tight, and thought about what he desired.

“I need a place where no one will interrupt us or hear us,” he repeated over and over again in his head as he paced back and forth in front of the wall three times. Soon a tiny door half his height appeared in the wall, leading to the Room of Requirement. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand again and they both bent down double in order to squeeze under the top of the doorway.

Inside the room was much different than what Harry was used to seeing. The walls were thickly padded and a crisscross pattern of intricately woven electric blue lines coated every square inch of the room. Harry figured it to be a silencing charm of some sort. The room was tiny and the ceiling low. Candles floated all throughout the air around them, producing the only light in the room. Two low chairs set directly across from one another in the very center of the room. The top of Harry's head scratched the surface of the ceiling when he stood fully upright.

Hermione maintained her attentive silence even after they sat down. Her eyes never left his face as minutes passed by while Harry's mind and heart battled each other over what he meant to do.

Finally he found the words he had been searching for and began. He forced himself to meet her eyes as he spoke.

“Hermione, you were right. I have been keeping something from you. I've been afraid how you and Ron would react; I didn't want you treating me any differently.”

“Why would we treat you any differently?” Hermione asked.

“Because- because, oh I don't know- because it's so horrible.”

“What is, Harry?”

Harry inhaled deeply. “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 power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies….”

For the first time since Harry had known her, Hermione was completely speechless. Her entire form seemed frozen in a position of utter bewilderment, mouth open slightly and owl eyed.

“When the Prophecy about me smashed, we thought it had been lost forever,” Harry continued painfully, “But it hadn't. Someone heard it. Dumbledore did. Professor Trelawney delivered it to him not long before my birth. He told it to me when we returned from the Department of Mysteries. Do you see? All along you've realized there was something special about my relationship with Voldemort, apart from the obvious. Well, you were right. I'm the only one who can kill him. It's up to me.” Tears were now flowing freely from Hermione's chocolate eyes. “See why I didn't tell you?” Harry whispered. “I didn't want to burden you with it. You shouldn't feel burdened with it. It's my burden, Hermione, and mine alone. Oh, don't cry, please don't cry.” She had broken into muffled sobs, her entire chest shaking and heaving. Before he knew it, Hermione flew from her seat and flung her arms around his neck.

“Oh Harry,” she sobbed into his back. “It'll be okay. You'll defeat V-Voldemort, I'm sure of it!”

At this he wrapped his arms around her. “Hermione, I don't want to be a murderer. I don't know how I'm going to do it… I'm not a killer.”

“I know you're not, Harry. I know,” she said firmly. “No one's going to hold that against you. You're our hero. You have been in the past and you will be ultimately. I just know it. You're going to defeat Voldemort and everything will be the way it was meant to be.”

Harry smiled gratefully and sat back up again, lifting her arms off his shoulders.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Try to understand. I just hadn't come to terms with it yet myself, you know? With that and Sirius, everything was so overwhelming I just kind of pushed all into the back of my mind and tried not to face it. But then I began feeling guilty that I wasn't telling you and--” He gave a short laugh. “I can't keep anything from you.” She smiled at him briefly and then wiped the tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Will you forgive me?” asked Harry.

“Harry, there's nothing to forgive. I understand. Just know that I'm always here for you, okay? And you're right,” she smiled again, “you can't keep anything from me. So next time, don't even try. Just tell me.”

“Okay,” Harry said, returning the smile. She climbed off his seat and he stood up beside her. “Oh, can you do me a favor?” Harry asked.

“Anything.”

“Please don't tell Ron. I'm not ready to tell him yet.”

Hermione looked slightly hesitant for a moment but then said, “Sure. I promise I won't tell him. But you're going to have to tell him sooner or later, you know.”

“I know. Only not yet.”

Hermione nodded her head once. “Understood. Now,” she continued, seizing his hand. “Let's hit the books. We have a lot of learning ahead of us in order to properly arm you, and for what it's worth, I'm going to help you every step of the way.”

* * *

“Oi! Harry!” Harry turned on the steps the same way he had turned to meet Hermione three days earlier. This time it was Ron. Ron grinned at him as he approached. “I take it you're heading to the library, as usual?” Ron teased.

“You know you reading a book wouldn't kill you,” Harry returned.

“Yeah, well, you've probably got a point there. So is that where you're heading?”

“Actually, no. I'm off to the Common Room.”

“Really? That's terrific! So do you have time to play a game or two of wizards' chess this evening then, if your studies are all done?”

“No, I don't,” Harry groaned. “I'm heading to the Common Room because Hermione already brought the books we need there.”

“Oh,” Ron said, looking significantly downtrodden. He raised a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it. “I never get to do anything with you anymore, mate. I mean, since we've returned the most we've done is gone out flying once. I can barely drag your nose out of your books long enough to tell you about my new play ideas- ones you asked me for, by the way. Quidditch try-outs are tomorrow! You haven't even organized it yet!”

“I have too,” Harry retorted grumpily. “In case you hadn't cared to notice, there's a sign-up sheet alongside a flyer on the Gryffindor bulletin board. People know when it's happening, Ron. It's not like I have to run up to each of them individually and make sure they've remembered to practice! Besides, all we need to audition for are two Chasers.”

“I know, it's just—“

“It's just what, Ron? You have to realize that this year's going to be different from the last ones. I've got a lot of lost time to make up for in my studies.”

Ron sighed and let his arm fall back to his side.

“I know. Look, I have to grab a book from the library for Binns. D'you have a few minutes you can spare, or will you implode from the effort of not studying something for ten minutes?”

Harry glared at him and then realized he was taking Ron's teasing too seriously and laughed. After all, Ron didn't really understand why Harry needed to study yet, and they always teased Hermione about her studies before; this was no different.

“Sure, I'll come.”

“Good,” Ron said as they continued up the stairs together. “So, exactly what are the lessons like? I know I wouldn't want to be trapped in a room with Snape alone… nor McGonagall, for that matter…or really any of the professors, except Hagrid.”

“It's actually not as bad as I thought it would be,” said Harry truthfully as they turned toward the library. “Well, Snape's still Snape, of course, so that isn't exactly pleasant… but with the rest of them it's really no problem at all. It's easier for them to see if I'm doing things right or not, to help me fix things.”

“Since when is them knowing everything you do wrong a good thing? Blimey, you've been spending too much time with Hermione. She's already going to your head.”

They strolled across the library through beams of dusty light streaming from the upper windows. To Harry's surprise and confusion, they didn't turn off to either side as he would have expected, but instead headed straight for the back of the library. They stopped in front of the iron barred door to the Restricted Section and Ron withdrew a tiny bronze key from within his robes. He inserted it in the keyhole and swung the door open.

“Since when did you have a key to the Restricted Section?” Harry asked. “Since when is there even a keyhole?”

“Since the beginning of this year. Apparently Filch grew rather tired of having students sneaking in at night--” he cast Harry a meaningful glance along with a smirk—“so he installed a lock over the summer. Sixth and seventh year Prefects are each given their own key.”

“Wonderful,” Harry said under his breath. Now there was no way to sneak down under his invisibility cloak at night.

“Bloody History of Magic,” Ron commented as they walked straight down the middle aisle between the shelves. “I'm telling you, it's even worse than before! I mean, a paper on the history of Dark Curses goblins used in the rebellions of 1540 in contrast to the spells they used in the 1730 rebellion? Who cares?”

They halted in front of one of the towering shelves and began searching for the book Ron needed: “A History of Rebellions- Goblin Revolts Circa 1400-1800 A.D.” Thinking about goblins struck a nerve in Harry.

“Ron,” he said with some trepidation, “You don't s'pose the goblins will side with Voldemort, do you?”

Ron continued his quest to find the book, obviously not as concerned with the notion as Harry. “I don't know- I'm not a goblin. Good thing too- I hear they eat bugs.” He made a revolted face. “Although it would be nice to have free access to that much money,” he added as an afterthought. Harry felt the pang of guilt that always accompanied the blatant remembrance of how poor the Weasleys were. “Aha! Here it is….” Ron withdrew a heavy black-leathered volume from the shelf. He opened it and Harry moved closer, looking over his shoulder.

“See right here?” Ron pointed at a black and white moving picture. The occupants of the photo, which in fact were a large number of goblins, were moving around in a frenzied state. The towering edifice behind them was shaking and swaying while the goblins fought with ropes and hands to keep the structure standing. “That's why Gringotts is so crooked,” Ron said with a hint of amusement. “There was some sort of earthquake caused by giant mating rituals in a forest in the north. It almost shook the entire building down.” He began flipping the pages, glimpsing each page in search of another interesting photo. Around the middle of the book, Ron's fingers suddenly back-tracked and flipped to a page they had passed. “Hold on! Would you look at that?”

Harry examined the picture in awe. It depicted a spacious, cavernous space filled with stalactites and stalagmites hanging from the ceiling and protruding from the floor. There were magical fires bobbing in the air, suspended by invisible means. The limestone walls that framed the room had wide jagged arched openings placed randomly throughout, leading to narrower tunnels. Unlike in the last picture, there was no movement spare the trickling of some water off the stalactites and the flickering of the fires. Harry had never seen anything like it before.

Ron read aloud the short caption underneath the picture. “Here exists Halizize, one of the greatest natural features on earth- or rather under. The Halizize cavern is located many miles under Gringotts bank, and it is reportedly as far as the banks' carts will go. I knew that Gringotts went far underground, but I didn't know that cavern was there.”

Something in the picture caught Harry's eye. “Look here,” he said, pointing at the upper left corner of the picture. “Did you see that bit of movement?”

Ron shook his head and squinted his eyes. “No, I didn't see anything.”

“There it is again!” Harry exclaimed, thrusting his finger toward it again.

“Oh yeah, I see it now,” Ron said in a hushed voice. “What is it?”

“I don't know….” Harry and Ron both leaned in closer, struggling to determine why the vast dark space in one of the stone archways was apparently moving.

“Hello Ronald.”

Harry and Ron jumped and twisted around, hearts racing. Luna Lovegood was standing behind them, hands clasped together behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels innocently.

“Bloody hell, Luna!” Ron cried. “What'd you do that for?”

“Do what for?”

“Sneak up on us like that! You nearly scared us out of our wits!”

“I didn't sneak up on anyone. I was only saying hello.”

Ron frowned at her and picked up the book he had dropped. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

She shrugged her shoulders, still rocking on her heels. “I dunno. The gate was open.”

“Yes, because I unlocked it to get a book I need. If you don't have permission from a teacher, you aren't allowed back in here.”

Luna fell back down onto the flats of her feet and began wandering down the row, running her hand along the dusty volumes' spines. Harry and Ron followed after her. She spoke, though she never turned to face them.

“There was another muggle attack, did you hear?”

“What? No, we didn't hear. When was it?” asked Harry.

“Just last night, in Leeds. The Death Eaters killed an entire wizarding family known to be Dumbledore's supporters and then continued into a pub down the lane where they killed 7 unsuspecting muggles, then blew up the place.”

“So then the muggles don't know there was any magic involved?” Harry asked.

“Nope. They just think that there was a gas leak that led to the explosion. Apparently they took the remains of the Dark Mark that were still hovering overhead to be gaseous fumes. The skull had already begun to dissolve, but there were a lot of reports of people claiming they saw a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth in the smoke.

“And the one at the house had already dissolved too. Wizards from the ministry arrived there before the muggle police and placed traces of carbon monoxide throughout the air in the house, so that's what they think killed them.”

They had wound back through the shelves to the gates. Ron turned, locked the gate, and placed the key back in his pocket.

“Well, I'm off to re-fill my quills,” Luna announced suddenly. “Goodbye Harry, Ronald.” She nodded her head at Ron with a faint smile and he waved back awkwardly.

“That is the oddest girl I've ever met,” Ron commented as he watched her round the corner. “C'mon, let's check this book out and head back to the Common Room.”

Back up in their dormitory that evening, Ron pulled a sweater over his head.

“I'm going to head down to the Quidditch Pitch. Care to toss a ball around for a bit?” he asked Harry as his head reemerged.

Harry almost said `yes' when his thoughts traveled to the Scrying Glass he had neglected to tinker with yet; he had been thinking about it all week. “Not this time, Ron,” Harry replied in a regretful tone from his bed. “I'm kinda tired and I've got some reading left to do.”

Ron grabbed his broom and then turned to Harry, one eyebrow cocked. “Are you feeling alright? It's not like you to turn down Quidditch.”

Harry nodded reassuringly. “I'm fine. I just really need to finish this assignment is all.” He smiled at the end for good measure.

“If you say so,” Ron said, leaving the room. “I'll see you later, mate.”

“Bye,” Harry said as Ron closed the door. Harry puffed out his cheeks and blew out all the air. He didn't like lying to Ron, but he wasn't about to tell him about the Scrying Glass either. Harry flipped himself onto his stomach, bent his head down over his trunk and dug around for the tiny bundle that held the glass. When he found it, he scooped it up gingerly in his hands and sat back up again. Just as he was unwinding an old shirt of Dudley's from it, he heard footsteps outside the door. As quickly as he could, he dove for his pillows and stashed the glass under it, then grabbed his book from his nightstand and jerked it open to a random page. At that very second the door opened and Ron wandered in.

“I forgot my hat,” he explained as he crossed the room to his bed. He yanked the maroon and brown striped stocking cap onto his head. “I guess you weren't kidding when you said you were tired,” he commented, glancing at Harry.

“Huh?”

“Your book's upside down.”

“Oh, right,” Harry hastily turned it over, blushing.

Ron chuckled to himself as he left the room again. As soon as Harry heard his steps fade away he sighed and tossed the book down on the floor. He then reached behind his pillows and finished unwinding the shirt from the Scrying Glass. Sitting propped up against the headboard, Harry twirled the dark glass disc in his hands, looking for some clue as to how to activate it. There weren't any marks along the solid gold edge except nicks and scratches it obtained over the years. Harry picked his wand off his nightstand and tapped the glass.

“Reveal your true self,” he commanded as he tapped it. Nothing happened. “Er, show me the Other Plane! Demon, take heed my command! Abra Kadabra?” The glass remained black and motionless. Harry tossed the thing on the bed beside him in frustration. He was never going to figure out how to work it; he would never talk to Sirius again. This thought brought a heap of despair onto Harry's chest. This had been his last chance, after the mirror hadn't worked and he had learned Sirius would never be a ghost. Growing angry at his foolishness at getting his hopes up again, he grabbed the Scrying Glass firmly in his hands and yelled directly into the surface, “I want to see Sirius Black!”

As soon as he spoke the last word, the dark glass swirled rapidly and transformed into a view of a dreary grey landscape. Harry almost dropped it in shock. A sense of euphoria and hope returned as he peered into it, trying to determine what it was he was seeing. There was no color to speak of, spare shades of solemn grey. It appeared to be a never-ending plain of some sort, with flat light-grey ground and a few dark-grey, dead bushes dotting the sparse landscape. Harry's view was a bird-eyed one, and now the ground drew closer and closer, and as it did so, more details surfaced. What Harry had taken to be the ground was in fact a sea of drifting figures.

“What the…” he said softly to himself.

The view changed from an overhead view to one of someone walking on the ground among the figures. And it was then that Harry discovered what the light-grey figures were. People, or rather semi-transparent ghosts of people, drifted all around him in various directions with the same stoic, solemn look on their faces. It appeared as if they were numb to their surroundings, to everything. They certainly took no notice of Harry's presence, which led him to think that however the demon trapped inside the Scrying Glass was showing him the scene, it was doing so by invisible means. Yet again, the ghosts here were looking straight ahead anyway. Harry felt involuntary chills run down his spine at all of their dreary expressions and sluggish movements as they each floated in and out of view.

Harry's view propelled him forward through the crowd at a leisurely pace. One thing he noticed as he watched the people pass by was that whenever a spindly bush blocked their path, they floated around it or over it, rather than directly through it. Similarly, they never passed through each other, but slightly diverted their paths enough to avoid a collision. Harry couldn't figure why ghosts would do that, which soon led him to think that perhaps these weren't ghosts, but rather spirits of some kind, neither solid nor permeable.

Another thing Harry noticed was the variation in the spirits' appearances. Some were wearing hats; some had long hair, others short; some were women, some were men; some were merely young children while more were adults or elders. Harry found himself wondering how they had all ended up here, and where `here' was.

Suddenly whatever was allowing him his view stopped again. Spirits of the deceased continued floating by on either side of him, but Harry took no notice, as the figure in front of him captured his complete attention. He felt a stirring in his heart, both happy and sad as he observed the person drifting directly toward him with unblinking eyes. He had long, dark hair and dark robes as well. His shoulders were slightly hunched and there was a hint of something about his countenance that the other spirits Harry had observed didn't have, a sort of anguish in his eyes that gave them life. Harry could hardly believe what he was seeing. All he wanted to do was dive into the glass and run to the man who faced him as if his life depended on it.

“Sirius?” he said in a voice filled with hushed awe.

What happened next shocked Harry almost out of his mind. Ever so slowly, the spirit of Sirius lifted his chin and gazed directly at Harry. His eyes lit up like a spark and his mouth slowly opened. He stopped drifting forward and hovered in place. Harry looked on longingly, gripping the glass in his hands so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“Harry?” Sirius said, clearly amazed himself. His voice was so feeble Harry could hardly hear it. “Is that really you?”

Harry almost cried out with joy. Sirius could hear him! He could see him! The Scrying Glass worked both ways.

“Sirius! Yes, it's me!” Harry fought to keep his voice under control; he didn't want anyone hearing him and coming in.

“Oh my God, it is you! I-I don't know what to say! What is this thing?” He motioned in front of himself at something Harry couldn't see.

“I'm not sure what you see, but I'm using a Scrying Glass. I found it in the Room of Requirement.”

“A Scrying Glass, huh? I've heard of those, very rare. Only a handful left.” He shook his head briskly. “But that's not important. How are you?”

“I'm fine,” Harry replied. “I miss you,” he added.

Sirius looked back at him sadly, his expression readopting the one of sorrow he had worn a short while earlier. “I know, I miss you too. I'm so sorry. I was so foolish, not taking the fight with Bella seriously enough. I could have prevented it.”

“You shouldn't have come at all, but please don't apologize. I could never be mad at you for coming to my rescue. It's Dumbledore I'm mad at.”

Sirius' voice grew stern as his brows knitted together. “Why's that?”

“Well, it's his fault, isn't it! The way he kept you under house arrest for so long, it was enough to drive anyone stir crazy. Maybe you wouldn't have come if you hadn't been so desperate to get out—”

“That's not the case and you know it! You can't blame Dumbledore; he was right in what he did, telling me to stay indoors. Who knows what would have happened otherwise. And it didn't matter how stir-crazy I was, that's certainly not the reason I came with the others. I came because I knew you were in trouble. That's the only reason.”

“Kreacher lied,” Harry choked through gritted teeth.

“I figured as much,” Sirius said. “I hope Dumbledore gave the little beast what he deserved.”

Harry nodded. “He's dead; his head's on the wall with the rest of them.”

“That's a generous fate in my opinion. Of course, Dumbledore was never one for torture.”

Harry laughed shortly. “So what is that place? Where are you?”

“Some sort of purgatory,” Sirius responded. “Some of these people have been here for a hundred years, bidding their time. That's what we're all doing here. It's like a world between the worlds.”

“Does it hurt, being there?”

“Nah, not really. Although it could be a tad bit less drab, couldn't it?” he commented, looking around himself.

Harry laughed again. “Yeah, it could a bit.”

“Listen Harry, we hear things here, news from your world. Every time a newbie shows up whispers are passed round until everyone knows the latest happenings. I've heard all about the breakout at Azkaban and the Dementors shifting sides. But news isn't the only thing we hear. People here know things; don't ask me how they do.” He glanced around suspiciously, as if he suspected those around him to be eavesdropping. “And from what I hear, Voldemort is plotting something involving you. I don't know what it is, but be on the look-out. Practice your Occlumency. I take it you are still taking lessons?”

“Yeah, with Dumbledore.”

“Good. He'll do a much better job.”

“There's something I have to tell you, Sirius. There was a Prophecy made about me….” Harry related the entire thing to Sirius, who listened attentively.

When he finished, Sirius said passionately, “I'm sure you'll defeat him. I'll keep you updated on anything I hear that may help. And don't let your virtue get in the way when the time comes that you have the chance to kill him. Don't let anything stand in the way, okay? You were meant to do this, it's your destiny. He's evil and he must be killed.”

“I understand,” Harry said bleakly.

“No you don't,” Sirius replied. “And you won't for a while, but you will eventually. When the time comes you will.”

Something that had been gnawing away at the back of Harry's mind the entire conversation pushed through now. “Have you seen my mum or dad there?”

Sirius frowned. “No, I haven't. Of course, this place is so big it's no wonder we haven't run into each other. For all I know, they could be in the Beyond by now.” Sirius was silent a moment and then spoke again. “I hope you took me up on the offer of Grimmauld Place. I know you need a place to stay once you graduate and seeing as I was going to offer you to stay with me anyway…well, I figured it was the least I could do.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply just as he heard voices right outside the door. He jerked his head up at it and then quickly back down to Sirius again. “I have to go! Someone's coming!” He didn't even wait for Sirius to say goodbye, he willed the image to disappear and the Scrying Glass followed his whispered plea, transforming in a rush of grey back into the same solid back block of glass it was originally. Harry shoved it underneath his pillow just as the door opened. He twisted back around to face them, but they didn't notice his odd behavior at all.

“Should've seen Parvati's face when she heard what Lavender had done,” Seamus said to Neville and Dean as they each walked over to their separate beds. “She grew all red and then dashed off to the loo, I s'pect.”

“Hello, Harry,” Neville said as he pulled his pajamas out of his trunk.

“So Parvati and Lavender have had a row then?” Harry asked them with feigned interest, when he was actually rather annoyed at their interruption.

“Yep,” Dean said, clearly amused at the situation. “All over that bloke Thomas from Hufflepuff as well- Seventh Year. Don't ask me why they're bothering to fight over him in the first place.”

“Maybe because he's older and he's a Quidditch player,” Seamus commented, “Which is more than I can say about you, by the way.”

“Well I'm the one who's got a girlfriend, aren't I? So look what Quidditch and a year got him- nothing but two blubbering girls who are going to both dump him in the end as part of their little make-up treaty anyway.”

“Which reminds me, how are things going with you and Ginny?” Harry asked. He swore he saw Neville stiffen up out of the corner of his eye as he said it.

“Pretty good. She's got a fire to her, that's for sure. She's going out for Chaser tomorrow, now that you're back as Seeker. Reckon you'll give it to her?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. It all depends on how she plays compared to everyone else. I can't be biased.”

“Aw, c'mon, Harry! If she doesn't make Chaser, I'm going to have to deal with her fits and crying for a month! Don't do that to me!”

Harry and Seamus laughed. “I'm pretty sure she'll get it anyway, Dean,” Harry assured. “She's really good.”

“How's studying going for you, Harry? We never see you around anymore, unless you're snuggled in some corner with Hermione reading a book,” Seamus said, a teasing smirk playing across his lips.

Harry fought back the color that was rising in his cheeks. “It's going well. The studying I mean, not anything with Hermione, because there's nothing going on between me and Hermione. And by studying I mean actually studying, as in studying for class,” Harry stumbled over his words.

“A little defensive, are we Harry?” Dean teased.

“No! I just don't want you to get the wrong idea is all, because Hermione and I are just best friends.”

“Well, we'll just see how long the “just friends” thing lasts,” said Seamus. “You're spending so much time with her I'm sure something will happen, if it hasn't already started.”

“Plus, just because you insist you're just friends, that doesn't mean you don't harbor a secret wish to be more than just friends,” Neville joined in, a distant expression on his face. “It doesn't mean that it can't evolve into more, that she won't eventually take notice of you and realize how you've secretly admired her for so long.”

Harry, Seamus, and Dean all stared at him. Neville seemed to come to his senses as he looked back at them, blushed deeply, crawled onto his bed, and yanked the curtains closed with a mumbled, “Goodnight.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Harry while Seamus had to shove his fist in mouth to stifle his laughter. Harry strongly suspected the girl Neville was referring to was Ginny so he chose not to pursue the subject more with Dean there, and announced he was ready for bed too. After he closed the hangings around himself, Harry carefully wrapped the old shirt back around the Scrying Glass and tucked it inside the pillow case of his bottom pillow until he had time to stow it back in his trunk. He heard Ron return and draw his bed curtains closed many minutes later, as he finally drifted off to sleep, a content smile on his face as thoughts of seeing Sirius danced across his mind.

A/N: Thanks again for your patience between chapters and for reading. I hope you liked it.

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Chapter 21- Try-Out, Block Out, Sneak Out, Knock Out

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A/N: Alright, I know that I've been taking long breaks between chapters lately, but please try to realize that I have to focus on my grades as I begin to look into beefing up my resume for college. As much as I try to tell myself I shouldn't, I still feel guilty for leaving all of you loyal readers hanging for so long, and for that I am terribly sorry. Now, this is a lengthy one, and it's very full too, which is part of the reason why it took me so long to write! I hope you'll take that as some form of compensation…. I'm rather proud of this chapter, so I hope you'll like it.

Thanks for returning for another chapter! Your reading (and reviews) mean everything to me… they're what keep me writing when I grow discouraged.

Regards,

Casey (padfootmoony13)

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The weather the next day was the best it had been all fall. There were no clouds to serve as obstacles to the sun's rays. The fall leaves, now brilliant shades of red and orange, rustled under a slight breeze. Harry had, like many students at Hogwarts, spent a good part of the day staring longingly outside, unable to focus on anything other than what he was missing out on. The other part of his day had been spent down in the dreary dungeons alongside a brewing cauldron while Professor Teteran looked on authoritatively.

Now, walking across the grounds, flanked by the Gryffindor Quidditch team on their way to Quidditch try-outs, Harry couldn't have been happier to feel the breeze blowing his hair off his forehead. The air was still pleasantly warm, which attested to the fact the sun had indeed made an appearance that day. Hermione had planned on observing try-outs, but had dashed off to the library at the last moment after she had reached the conclusion that her Arithmancy paper had to be completed that evening. Ron tried to convince her that all the information she needed to write it would still be there the next day, but it was too late: she was already in one of her determined modes and could not be persuaded out of studying.

Inside the locker room, the team sat around on the two benches, chatting animatedly. It was clear that everyone was excited to be outside the castle, engaging in Quidditch again. Harry explained how he intended to conduct the try-outs.

“Alright, I know we're all happy to be here again.... Er- welcome back, I guess! Now, I've never done this whole “captain” thing before, but I have done the whole “Quidditch” thing before, so I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing in general. I know from playing with all of you—” he looked around at Ron, Katie Bell, Andrew Kirke, and Jack Sloper and suddenly realized he hadn't really played with all of them before—“well, erm, from watching all of you play before, that this is a good team. I feel confident in our chances at winning the Quidditch Cup again this year. On the other hand, we've unfortunately lost two excellent Chasers from the team, so we've got our work cut out for us. Yet again, that's why we're here, as you all know- to find two new just as talented Chasers to replace Angelina and Alicia with.”

“Although it will be very difficult to find two Chasers who can match Angelina and Alicia,” Katie interjected defensively on behalf of her two good friends.

“Of course,” Harry said. “But let's not get discouraged before we've even seen the candidates. So, I figured we'd just run through a few basic drills. Jack and Andrew, try to go after the auditioning Chaser, but don't go too hard on him.”

“Or her,” Katie threw in.

Harry frowned at her. “Or her,” he corrected, slightly annoyed. Apparently she was having a hard time without her two female companions. “Ron, just block the goals as you usually would.”

“Shouldn't I go a little easy on them too?” Ron questioned; he sounded a little insulted. “Otherwise they might not make any goals in at all, you know.”

“Sure- do whatever you like,” Harry replied. “Katie, you and I will play the other Chasers. We'll run through a few plays to see how they handle direction. Make sure you don't handle the Quaffle too much though, it's important that we see the person who's auditioning play a lot.”

“It's not like I haven't done this before, Harry.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush. “I know. I was just making sure everyone was set on what to do.”

Upon seeing him grow embarrassed, Katie's demeanor softened. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Right,” Harry said pointedly, regaining his composure. “Let's head out.”

As they exited the locker room, Katie pulled Harry off to the side. “Listen, you're doing fine, Harry. I always thought you'd make a great Captain. Just know I'm on the same page here as you are- I want to keep up our winning streak this year!”

“Thanks, Katie,” Harry said as she gave him a quick hug.

“I hope the selection's good,” Katie said as they walked along the base of the stands toward the center edge of the field, where they were to meet the auditioning Gryffindors.

“I hope so too. Mind you, you're right in saying it will be difficult to replace Alicia and Angelina. I think Ginny Weasley's trying out though, and she's pretty good.”

“But that still leaves one slot open...and apparently our options are severely limited.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead of him, the rest of the team had done the same. Ron turned around and walked back to him.

“There're only three people up there! Three!” Harry gulped audibly; he was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. “And one of them is Ginny!” Ron continued. “What're we going to do?”

Harry shook himself mentally. Get a grip. You're not even sure how good they are yet. They could both be excellent for all you know. Ignoring the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that was telling him the chance of the two unidentified people being adequate Chasers was very slim, Harry said, “Let's not panic yet. For all we know they could both be fantastic, and we'll have a hard time choosing between them.”

Looking around at all of his teammates' discouraged faces made Harry's stomach plummet, but he pushed past them all and led the way up to the other three just the same. They were right about one thing for sure: Ginny Weasley was one of the people trying out; that was no surprise. The other two, however, were both rather unexpected: a third year Gryffindor boy named Frank Tullip and Dennis Creevy.

“Hiya, Harry,” Dennis said as soon as Harry approached, striding up to him and energetically shaking his hand. Dennis was a very lively, outgoing young boy who had openly displayed those qualities since he had arrived at Hogwarts. Harry couldn't help thinking to himself that Quidditch would be a good way for Dennis to relieve some of his pent-up energy. The question was whether or not he was any good.

Frank was much shyer than Dennis. A tall, gangly youth with stringy red hair hanging in his eyes, it was a wonder he had worked up enough courage to venture out of Gryffindor Tower long enough to try-out. Harry had only seen him once or twice before, painting miniature Quidditch models at one of the tables in the Common Room, which, come to think of it, probably explained a lot of why he was there; he was obviously a fan of the sport.

Harry explained the rules to each hopeful and then picked Ginny to go first.

“Good luck, Ginny!” Ron said supportively as they mounted their brooms in the center of the field. Harry released the bludgers and then tossed the Quaffle high into the air. Ginny was quick to kick off the ground and catch the large red ball before anyone else had even left ground yet. Ron and Harry exchanged an impressed glance and then Ron zoomed off to defend the rings and Harry marked Katie and Ginny, remaining a little to the left and behind Ginny all the way down field. She dogged the first two bludgers hit her way with ease and on the third time rolled all the way over on her broom while passing to Katie to avoid getting hit by one of the heavy black balls. Katie caught the Quaffle and passed it over to Harry, who quickly passed it back to Ginny as she pulled out of her roll. When she reached the goal rings, she dodged left and then right, slanting downwards each time, and then darted over Ron at the last second and scored in the center hoop.

Jack and Andrew cheered and Dennis could be heard whistling from the stands.

“Hey! That wasn't fair! You knew that was my weak spot!” Ron called out, clearly embarrassed to be outsmarted by his little sister.

They circled back around again several times and Ginny managed to score twice more before Harry called her and Katie to the ground to try some plays.

“Wow, Ginny. You're an even better Chaser than you were a Seeker,” Katie said, beaming.

“Thanks,” said Ginny humbly.

“We're going to try out three plays now, back-to-back,” Harry explained. “Now, in order to make sure you don't have an unfair advantage over the other two, having been on the team, we're going to use three plays Ron just designed.”

“Fair enough,” Ginny said, leaning on her broom.

“Katie, do you know the Obeski Dash?”

“I know them all. Ron's made sure to hound the whole team about them.”

Harry fought back a grin. “So then let's do that one, Sink and Dash, and Reverse Psychology.” After explaining what each play entailed, all three mounted their brooms again. Harry flew over to Andrew and Jack and instructed them to not show any mercy, and then resumed his position on the left of Ginny. With a quick look and a nod at Ginny, Harry, Ginny, and Katie all shot straight ahead at once. Ginny held the Quaffle tightly under her arm and flew straight toward Ron, who was hovering in front of the center hoop. Harry and Katie pulled right up against Ginny and nudged the entire trio to either the left or right whenever a bludger flew their way. Then, at the last moment, Harry and Katie pulled straight ahead of Ginny before dropping abruptly straight downward just as they reached Ron. Ron, who understood what they were doing, maintained his position in front of the center hoop. However, Ginny, surprising even Harry and Katie, threw the Quaffle with great agility around her back and through the left goal hoop at the last possible second. She had to jerk upwards in order to avoid colliding with Ron.

Harry circled around past Ron, who turned to him and said, “Did you tell her to do that?”

“Nope,” Harry called back, grinning as he shot off to the other end of the field again.

Ginny executed the other two plays perfectly as well, though Ron did manage to block one of her shots.

“Fantastic!” Katie exclaimed when they all landed. “You're a definite shoe-in.”

“Great,” Ginny replied, beaming. She tossed the Quaffle over to Harry and then strode back to the stands. Next up was Dennis, and before Ginny even made it halfway back to the stands he was running past her, clutching his Nimbus 2000.

“Do you know what's expected of you then?” Harry said as Dennis swung his leg over his own broom without waiting for instruction.

“Yeah- shoot the Quaffle.”

“Er, I s'pose that's basically it.”

“C'mon, let's go!” Dennis cried, kicking off the ground. He hovered above Harry with his arms extended. “Pass the Quaffle, Harry!”

Harry glanced sideways at Ron, who was snickering. “He's a bit enthusiastic, isn't he?” Ron commented.

“Tell me about it….” Harry whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry rose up to meet Dennis slowly, allowing Ron time to return to his post.

“Good luck,” he said, passing the Quaffle to Dennis with both hands. Releasing his broom, Dennis caught it sloppily, upsetting his own balance. Katie shot toward him, intending to steady him, but Dennis regained his balance before she got there, and yelled, “Nice pass, Harry!” before he soared toward Ron.

The entire length of the field, Dennis maintained his possession of the ball. He never even glanced over his shoulder for oncoming bludgers, let alone for Harry and Katie. Luckily, he tended to sway back and forth while he intended to fly straight ahead, so all of the bludgers hit in his direction missed. Reaching Ron, he brought the Quaffle back over his head with both hands and chucked it like a football player heaving the ball in from the sidelines. Ron caught it easily enough, but it did hit his stomach hard and knock the wind out of him.

The next few laps down field produced the same results. Dennis could maintain his balance easily enough while he threw the Quaffle, but he didn't catch passes very well; twice he fumbled the ball. He had a strong arm, but he was horrible at outsmarting Ron. He followed directions well when it came to the plays, but he simply could not score.

Back on the ground, Harry and Ron discussed their opinions on Dennis. “I dunno,” Ron said. “He didn't score at all… even that time I was distracted by the bee, he just clonked the Quaffle against the back of my head.”

“He's strong though,” Harry countered. “And you've got to admit, he can fly fairly quickly. Plus, he's dedicated.”

“All that aside, the guy still can't score a point to save his life! And you can't forget that that's kinda the Chaser's job. What good's a Chaser who can't score?”

“Well then, I just hope Frank can score a point.”

As it turned out, Frank was even worse than Dennis. Not only did he miss every shot, but he missed them far and wide. Half the time the Quaffle fell short of the hoops, and Ron was forced to fly out and meet it. By the end of his try-out, Frank had a black swell forming on his cheek where a bludger had hit him and knocked him clean off his broom; if he hadn't been flying so low to the ground at the time, they would have been carting him off to the Hospital Wing.

“What're we going to do now?” Ron whined, voice straining as he tried to keep it down. “We've only got one new Chaser! Neither Frank nor Dennis are good enough at it!”

Jack buried his face in his hands. “We're going to lose every game this year, that's for sure.”

Harry was trying to figure out what to do over the panicky buzzing in his head.

Suddenly Ron turned on Harry, pointing a finger at him. “It's your fault!”

“How is it my fault?”

“I told you people wouldn't know about try-outs when all you did was put that tiny little notice up on the bulletin board! I told you to prepare more!”

“Hey now, Ron, you're out of line,” Katie said sternly, lowering his hand. “It's not Harry's fault nobody's interested this year. We just didn't have a new batch of talent ready for us; that's just poor luck.”

Ron kicked at the ground with his toe. “Yeah, well he's the Captain, after all,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Harry said hotly.

“All I'm saying is that you have responsibilities as the Captain and you haven't put any time into it.”

Harry frowned at Ron. “You know very well why I've been so bu….” He trailed off as he realized Ron didn't really understand why he had been so busy with his studies that year. He didn't know about the Prophecy yet. Harry took in a deep breath to calm himself and then blew the air out slowly through his teeth. “Listen, there's no point in placing the blame on each other. What we should be thinking about right now is what we're going to do about the situation.”

They all stood around in contemplative silence. Ron was leaning his head against his broom handle, Katie was pacing back and forth in a short line, Jack had his eyes closed, Andrew was biting his lower lip, and Harry had his thumbs pressed against his throbbing temples. Suddenly Andrew broke the silence.

“I have an idea,” he said somewhat timidly. “I'll try out for Chaser, if it's alright with you.”

Harry thought about it for a moment. He had never seen Andrew play as a Chaser. Was he any good? What if he wasn't? But then again, what did they have to loose?

“Alright, let's see what you've got,” Harry said, picking the Quaffle off the ground and tossing it to him.

Andrew had always been a rather graceful flier for a Beater. He flew with one hand holding his broom steady easily enough since he was used to it. Harry soon discovered that Andrew could also pass and catch the Quaffle with relatively no error. When it came time to shoot, Andrew dodged up and down, left and right, until he had an open shot, or passed it off to either Harry or Katie if he noticed they did. Apparently he had observed the plays during the others' try-outs, because he executed them seamlessly. In the end, he was actually a better Chaser than he was a Beater.

As soon as they all landed again Harry announced joyfully, “Andrew, congratulations: you're our second new Chaser.”

Andrew beamed as Jack and Ron patted him on the back.

“Hold on a second….” said Katie. “Now that Andrew's a Chaser, we've only got one Beater.”

“Oh, that's bloody terrific!” Ron exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. “Are we going to hold Beater try-outs now as well?”

Harry, however, was already turning an alternative to Beater try-outs over in his head. He looked over at the stands and watched as Dennis and Ginny laughed and talked.

“What is it?” Ron asked, noticing the scheming glint in Harry's eye. “Who are you looking at?”

“Dennis,” Harry said simply, setting off for the stands.

“Dennis?” Ron repeated, following along behind Harry. “We've already been over this, Harry. He's a horrible Chaser. Andrew's a fine replacement. We'll just need to hold auditions for a Beater now, and there's a good chance someone will show up to that who's fairly good.”

Harry stopped at the supply trunk and withdrew a beater's bat from within it, then continued.

“Whoa!” Ron exclaimed. “Now I know you're unhappy with Dennis, but there's no reason to beat him for being a poor Chaser!”

“Stop being thick, Ron. I'm not going to beat Dennis. And I don't want Dennis as a Chaser. I want to try him out as a Beater,” Harry explained. “Hey, Dennis!” He called from the foot of the stands. “Can you come down here for a second?”

Dennis was standing in front of Harry in a flash, bouncing on his toes. “Yes? Am I on the team?”

“Er, no.”

Dennis's smile vanished from his face like it had been wiped off him with a towel. “Oh….”

“But,” Harry continued hastily, “As it turns out we need another Beater. Care to try out for that position instead?”

“Sure!” Dennis said, accepting the bat Harry held out to him.

Harry gave Dennis a cram session in Beater tactics, demonstrating how to swing the bat and aim. He then instructed him to hit the bludger through each goal hoop in order to demonstrate he could do it.

“So basically I just swing the bat when the Bludger flies near me?” Dennis asked, twirling the bat in his hand.

“Er… yeah, basically,” Harry said, feeling foolish about wasting a good five minutes trying to explain something that didn't need explaining.

Dennis assumed his position on his broom in front of the goal rings while Harry and the others gathered around the supply trunk on the ground. Jack held a bat ready in his hand in case he needed to defend the others from the Bludger if it flew at them.

“Ready?!” Harry called to Dennis, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Ready!” Dennis shouted back.

Harry bent down and undid the latch holding the quivering Bludger in place and then jerked his body out of the way as the Bludger shot out of the trunk and straight up toward Dennis. Dennis gripped the bat tightly in his hand, pulled his arm back, and swung it with all his might. It connected with the Bludger with a loud CRACK and sent it zooming in the other direction, straight through a goal ring.

Harry couldn't help grinning as Dennis continued to hit the Bludger through the next two hoops successfully as well. Ron sprang into the air and pumped his fist. Katie pulled Dennis into a tight hug when he returned. Jack and Andrew both pounded him on the back. Dennis appeared quite flustered but pleased nonetheless by the time everyone stopped celebrating the discovery of their new Beater and returned to the stands to inform Ginny she was officially a new Gryffindor Chaser.

By the time they all headed back inside the castle, it was pitch dark outside. Harry and Ron took a detour to the kitchen and gathered as many treats and jugs of pumpkin juice as they could carry in their arms before heading back up to the Common Room to celebrate the initiation of the newest team members. Nobody got to bed until well past midnight. By the end of the night, Harry was too tired to notice Hermione was nowhere to be seen amongst the Gryffindor partiers.

* * * * *

Harry fell hard to his knees on the floor of the Headmaster's office, cursing himself.

“Not bad, but you can do better. Let's try it again.” Harry scrambled to his feet and steadied himself on the wall behind him. It was Saturday evening, and he was attending another Occlumency lesson with Professor Dumbledore.

“Take a deep breath, and empty your mind of all thoughts and concerns,” Dumbledore instructed in a low, soothing voice. Harry did what he said as he said it. “Now, focus all of your thoughts on a single, mundane thing. Imagine there is a mighty wall surrounding your mind, so tall and thick that it is impenetrable. And open your eyes….ready? Legilimens!”

Harry felt the effects of the spell instantaneously. It felt as though Dumbledore was prodding his mind with a blunt sword, attempting to puncture the wall he had built around it. He desperately focused all of his energy on visualizing the wall, on adding additional layers to it. However, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering very long, and before he could help it his thoughts strayed briefly to his Occlumency lessons with Snape, as they typically did during his lessons with Dumbledore. It only required that split second for Dumbledore to force his way into his mind. Harry gasped as memories he could no longer control flooded out through the hole Dumbledore had poked in the barriers: images of Quidditch try-outs the past night, of the party afterwards- the first time Harry had had a good bit of carefree fun since he had returned to Hogwarts, and then darker images; images of a ghostly, grey land and Sirius looking back at him with that desperate glint in his eye. Panicking, Harry struggled to push Dumbledore back out of his thoughts before he saw too much and realized Harry had contacted Sirius. He frantically located where Dumbledore's essence was, and mentally grabbed it. Then, breathing hard, he pushed with all of his might; it felt as though his head might explode, and he had unconsciously braced himself against the wall behind him with both hands, leaning forward, but he continued shoving Dumbledore out until suddenly, like a gasp of fresh air, Harry felt Dumbledore leave his mind altogether with a final explosive thrust. At the same time, it felt as though a real wall had been inside his head, and was now crumbling as he slowly found his orientation and could see the room in clear focus.

Dumbledore smiled merrily. “Aha! You did it! You were able to master your own mind and remove an unwanted intruder. Not many wizards can do that, especially at your age. You should feel very proud of yourself right about now.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, although secretly he wasn't very happy. That had been a very close call, and Harry was still shaken by it.

“Let's try once more; I want to make sure you've got it while you're still in the correct mindset.” Harry groaned inwardly and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “This time I want you to try to block my access altogether, understand? Here we go… focus…legilimens.”

Again Harry felt the same uncomfortable sensation. This time he jumped right to visualizing a wall around his mind and then adding layers on it, since that seemed to help last time. Then a new idea struck him; perhaps he could seize Dumbledore's essence just as he had previously, only before Dumbledore broke through his barriers. He decided to give it a try. Still focusing a large part of his mind on his mental wall, he focused another part of it on leaving the protected part of his mind and seizing Dumbledore's prodding essence from behind. He found where Dumbledore was poking at him the most and then imagined himself wrapping himself around the prodder and pulling away. As he tugged, he felt the prodding stop and it wasn't long before he launched Dumbledore clear of his mind with a burst of concentration.

Harry staggered forward and caught himself on a chair. He looked up at Dumbledore expectantly. Dumbledore smiled at him like a proud father smiles at a son who just won a football game. Despite his underlying anger at Dumbledore (he no longer referred to him as “sir” or looked upon him with the same humbled respect), Harry found his chest swelling with pride in his own accomplishment. This was something he had been struggling to achieve since the beginning of last year, and it was very important to him to master it after he realized what could be prevented by employing it, and now he had accomplished just what he set out to do.

His sense of achievement, however, was short-lived.

“Since you are now officially an Occlumens, I believe it's time to move on to our next task, which you will find is even more difficult and requires even more practice and dedication. I am referring to Legilimency, of course.”

Harry shuffled back and forth on his feet nervously. Dumbledore couldn't have waited until their next lesson at least before jumping into Legilimency? Hadn't he, Harry, proven himself enough for one day? He would have been more enthusiastic if he wasn't so exhausted from spending an hour and a half on Occlumency, and if he hadn't heard how difficult Legilimency was. Even fewer witches and wizards could perform Legilimency than Patronuses; the odds of him being able to do well at it were very slim. Dumbledore had already wished for Harry to keep his Occlumency lessons a secret (this year he simply didn't let anyone catch on to where he was going, with the obvious exception of Ron and Hermione), but surely Legilimency was something to be kept even more under wraps. The implications of Legilimency- and of keeping it a secret- made Harry feel woozy. Imagine being able to know what he would know! It was a frightening thought; Harry wasn't sure if he necessarily wanted to know what others were thinking, and he didn't fully trust that he wouldn't abuse the power to some extent.

“Do not fret, Harry. I'm sure that you will not only be able to accomplish this task, but will also use it sparingly.” Dumbledore's comment startled Harry. He made a mental note to always be on guard whenever around the graying old Headmaster. “As for keeping it a secret,” Dumbledore continued, either oblivious to Harry's indignation or resigned to it, “I do believe it would be in our best interest to do so. After all, we don't need the other students growing upset about it, nor do we want word of it to leak out to Voldemort or his followers. Of course, I'm not saying that anyone in this school would do such a thing—” Harry suppressed a snort “—but we should take it as a precautionary measure nonetheless. Not to mention the fact that the Ministry does like to keep track of who is a Legilimens and who is not, for obvious reasons, and no good can come from them knowing- nor, for that matter, will any harm be done to them if they do not know.

“So, the actual spell is rather easy to learn. Simply establish eye-contact with whomever it is you are trying to “read”, as it is referred to, and say the incantation: Legilimens. Now, once you grow more accustomed to using the spell and you improve at it, it is no longer necessary to say the incantation- you must only think it, which I like to think is a very useful feature of the spell. The tricky part lies in mastering the spell, much like in Occlumency. It takes even more time and practice to learn Legilimency than Occlumency. Furthermore, it is increasingly difficult to practice as it requires someone to practice on.”

“Can't I practice on a cat, or owl?”

Dumbledore twirled the tip of his beard between his fingers contemplatively. “In theory, I suppose, yes. However, it does little good, for an animal's mind differs greatly from a human's; just as they have their own languages, they have their own mental processes.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore dumbly. “Erm… I don't exactly understand what you mean.”

“Allow me to rephrase. Essentially, if you were to attempt to enter the mind of, say, a cat, then you would find nothing. However, it is not as if there is nothing there, it's rather encoded in such a way that humans can not understand it.”

“So it's a bit like trying to read computer code?”

Dumbledore laughed lightly. “I don't know much about the latest muggle gadgets and their workings, Harry.”

“Of course, I knew that. Sorry,” Harry said, agitated. “I was just thinking aloud.”

“Do you understand now?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, nodding his head. Dumbledore took a seat in a plush chintz armchair similar to the one he had conjured in Harry's trial back in his fifth year, and gestured for Harry to sit opposite him.

“I don't want to keep you much longer; I'm sure you're growing rather hungry,” Dumbledore said. “But first let's see you attempt the spell once before I let you go. I'll lower my barriers for you, to make it easier.”

Harry was relieved to be told he would be allowed to leave soon; his stomach had been rumbling for quite some time. A hot mince pie sounded like the best thing in the world to him right now.

Setting back easily and resting his hands on his thighs, Harry forced himself to look straight into Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes and then muttered, “Legilimens.” He gasped as a very strange sensation overwhelmed him. His whole body tingled as his mind ventured from his own body and entered Dumbledore's; he felt strangely detached, like he was floating at high speeds underwater. The room swam in front of him and was soon replaced by a huge white mass. Harry couldn't determine the shape of it. A voice inside his head said, “Use your mind to prod at it; try to shove past.” Harry did just that. Using his brain, he pushed and shoved at the white mass until he emerged on the other side of it. He caught a quick glimpse of what appeared to be an enormous room full of colorful images layered on top of one another, when the same slide-show style projection of images he was used to seeing with Occlumency flashed before him.

A man with a large grey beard and a woman with light blue eyes, just like Dumbledore's, waved… he, Harry, was stretching his arm out for the snitch across the field…Voldemort's red eyes flashed and he laughed wickedly—”

Harry shuddered and unintentionally broke the connection between them. The sight of Voldemort's deformed body sent shivers down Harry's spine.

“That was very good,” Dumbledore said, observing Harry as he shook his head to try to rid himself of the image; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. He couldn't rid himself of the other images either. “Ah, I see you have discovered the cursed side of Legilimency,” Dumbledore said softly. Harry rubbed his arms; he was shivering. “Whatever images you see remain with you for the rest of your life, including sights you never wished to witness.”

Harry hit the side of his head with his palm. “I can't stop picturing Voldemort,” he said darkly.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. “In a few minutes the image will pass back into your memory, and I promise you will not have to continue looking at it. However, I can not promise that it will not surface in your dreams or when your mind subconsciously makes a connection between it and whatever you are thinking… that is why Legilimency should be used sparingly. You have to be prepared to be faced with any multitude of images, and accept that as part of the power.” Harry nodded to show he understood. “You also need to learn speed, subtlety, and eventually how to read current thoughts, rather than being faced with a stream of disconnected memories. I could tell you were intruding in my mind the second you poked at it; you need to learn how to be less obtrusive about it. Also, it took you quite a while to actually reach my thoughts; if I had had my defenses in place, it would have taken you even longer to prod through those; so, we must work on concentrating your thoughts more efficiently, and locating a more direct line to your subject's mind. In time you may also be able to search for a specific memory, but I doubt we will reach that level soon… in fact, don't count on learning that until next year.”

Harry sat in silence; he was too busy absorbing everything Dumbledore said to analyze it and think of questions. Not to mention Voldemort's evil face was still leering at him.

“Before you leave, I was wondering… is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“Er, no,” Harry said, bewildered. “Why?”

“Oh, I was just curious how such an image of Sirius came to rest in your mind…” he said with the air of one commenting on the weather.

Harry felt the panic he had felt earlier creep back into him, mingled with fury at Dumbledore's nerve to say Sirius's name in front of him. “It was just a dream,” he said shortly, carefully avoiding Dumbledore's eyes by pretending to be distracted tying his shoe. When he looked back up again, Dumbledore was peering at him intently.

“Ah, I see,” Dumbledore said lightly. “A most curious view of him, and most curious surroundings… but then again, dreams are mysterious things.”

Harry fought to keep his face impassive. There was a rather uncomfortable minute of silence during which Harry's eyes wandered the office and Dumbledore's eyes remained locked on him.

“Well, that's all for today. Make sure to continue practicing your Occlumency,” Dumbledore instructed after he realized Harry was not going to say anything. He stood as he spoke. “Focus on emptying your mind as well as focusing on a single thought as a defense. Also, if you believe either Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger would be willing to allow you access to their thoughts, feel free to practice Legilimency on them. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Goodnight,” Harry muttered shortly, as he always did at the end of each lesson. He didn't care to thank Dumbledore for taking the time to teach him; in Harry's opinion, he should have taught him last year, and if he had, Harry might not have been so angry with him. He felt Dumbledore owed him for being a large contributing factor in taking Sirius away from him. Harry never noticed the sorrowful look of apology and regret on Dumbledore's face as the old man watched him leave.

* * *

Ron leaned back and patted his stomach. “Ah, that was a good meal.” Harry agreed. His lesson with Dumbledore had left him very hungry and everything the house elves had cooked up really hit the spot.

“Meal?” Hermione said incredulously. “More like a feast. You ate enough food to feed the entire village of Hogsmeade.”

“Hey,” Ron said defensively, sitting back up again. “I'm a growing boy. I need food.”

“Not fifty pounds of it in one meal,” Hermione said under her breath as she turned her attention back onto the book that lay open on her lap.

Ron frowned at her, then grabbed a honey bun from a bowl in front of him and bit into it purposefully, staring at her the whole time as if to say he'd eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Suddenly there was a loud screeching noise and everyone automatically turned his or her head up to watch a large barn owl fly in with a letter clasped in its beak. Harry watched on, puzzled, as the owl swooped over Ron and dropped the letter right on his lap, and then turned on his wing and flew right back out of the Great Hall again. The rest of the students went back to talking and eating again, content to know who was receiving a delivery so late in the day.

“Who's it from?” Harry asked, craning his neck across the table to try to glimpse the address.

“I dunno,” Ron said, turning the letter over in his hands. “It's blank.”

“Well, hurry up and open it then.”

Ron picked at the sealing wax and then slid his nail under the edge of the flap and pulled out a tiny piece of parchment folded in half. He unfolded it and skimmed it for the addresser's name. “It's from Geoff!” Ron exclaimed. “What would he be writing to me for?”

“Maybe something's happened, and he thought it would be safer to write to you than it would be to Harry!” Hermione said in hushed tones.

This notion made Harry's very full stomach churn, which was not a pleasant feeling. He waited as Ron quickly read the letter. When he finished reading it, Ron smiled and held it out to Harry.

“Nothing's wrong. He was just writing to me because he wanted to catch up on how I was doing and to tell me we get to visit Dad and Lupin when they get out of Azkaban.” Harry felt a pang of jealousy. Why was Geoff writing to Ron and not him? Didn't he, Harry, know Geoff better than Ron did anyway? Didn't Geoff like him? Harry thought he did, but….

He took the letter from Ron's hands and read it, ignoring Ron's very pleased expression.

Dear Ron,

It's been a while since we last saw each other, and I wanted to know how everything was going over at Hogwarts. How're you enjoying your classes? I've heard that Harry and Hermione are both on special schedules this year; I hope you're okay with that, as I'm sure you see less of each other now. Bill and I have been working together on a mission for you-know-what. Can't say more there, except that it's good fun to know I'm making a difference. Once you're of age, I suspect you'll join as well; perhaps we'll work on something together. Write me back to let me know how Quidditch is going. I know we don't know each other too well, but I realize your brothers are busy so… if you ever need advice about anything…girls, or Quidditch, or how to skive off Prefect duties without getting into a heap of trouble…, just ask me.

Give Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville my best wishes.

Cheers,

Geoff Everhurst

P.S. Your Dad and Lupin are both fine. They should be out at the end of the week. Dumbledore will be talking to you about coming to visit over the weekend.

Harry finished and handed the letter over to Hermione. For some reason the letter seemed odd to him. It was almost as if Geoff was reaching out to Ron as a replacement brother. Come to think of it, Ron's brothers didn't pay him much attention; he was often living in the shadow of his brothers' accomplishments. Still, at least he had brothers. Harry didn't have any real family at all; he couldn't help but think that it would have been nice if Geoff had written to him instead. He could use some advice on Quidditch and girls… he glanced over at Hermione, who had just finished reading the letter. They exchanged a weary glance after she handed it back to Ron.

“We'll talk about it later,” she mouthed as Ron's head disappeared under the table while he stowed the letter in his bag.

When his head popped back up again, he was still smiling. “Ready to head to the Common Room?”

All three gathered their materials and headed upstairs. Once they reached the Common Room and sat down in their favorite chairs by the fireplace, Ron asked, “Harry, are you up for a game of Wizard's Chess?”

Harry considered his homework and then decided it could wait until tomorrow; his head was still throbbing dully from his lesson with Dumbledore and the prospect of reading five chapters out of various books made his head throb all the more.

“Sure, why not,” he replied.

Ron's face split into a grin. “Wicked! I'll go grab the chess set….” He disappeared up the stairwell to the boys' dormitories.

Hermione was quick to bring up the letter. “Don't you think Geoff writing to Ron of all people is a bit odd?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Harry said truthfully. “I s'pose there's no harm in it though. Ron's happy enough.”

“I suppose you're right. It just seemed rather out of the blue.”

“Do you think we've been spending too little time with Ron this year?” Harry asked all of a sudden, reflecting upon Geoff's comment in the letter.

Hermione looked slightly taken aback. “I don't think so… are we?”

Harry considered it. It was true that he hadn't been around Ron as much as he was accustomed to, but then again it couldn't really be helped. They still had Care of Magical Creatures and Quidditch together, and they ate together at every meal.

“No. We've just been busy with schoolwork. I'm sure Ron understands,” Harry said, as much to assure himself as Hermione. “Besides, you still attend class with him almost every day, and I still see him at Quidditch and meals, as well as whenever we are in Gryffindor Tower.”

“Yeah,” Hermione added. “We still spend enough time with him.” She fell silent and moment and then spat, “Do you wish you still had him around more, instead of me?”

“What? Of course not! I like spending time with you; you know that.”

Hermione smiled nervously and sighed, “Oh, I thought so. Just checking.”

Harry peered at her quizzically as she sunk down below her book, cheeks glowing red. He meant to say more, to somehow reassure her how much she meant to him, when Ron came bounding across the room, chess set in hands. Harry sat back up abruptly; he had been leaning toward Hermione, intending to look her straight in the eye as he talked to her. As Ron set up the board, Harry stole several glances at Hermione, whose face was still hidden behind her book. Then a log collapsed in the fire, pulling him out of his trance, and a stream of unwelcome thoughts flowed into his head. Why had he sat upright so abruptly as soon as Ron approached? Why did he feel so inexplicably guilty whenever he looked at his best mate? And why on earth could he not take his mind off Hermione?

* * * * *

That Tuesday, at lunch, another letter fell onto the table in front of Ron. This one, however, was not from Geoff. It was from Hagrid. And it was short and to the point.

All three o' you,

Meet me at me hut this evening, at 9 o'clock. Wear the cloak.

Hagrid

“Why d'you think Hagrid wants us to meet him?” Ron asked after he read the note aloud in an undertone.

“He probably wants us to visit Grawp,” Hermione said knowledgably. “He mentioned something about it earlier.”

Ron frowned. “He's a bit more under control now, isn't he? I mean, he won't attack m- us, will he?”

“He was getting better last we saw of him,” Harry said. “And let's not forget what a favor he did for us, distracting the centaurs.” He looked meaningfully at Hermione. “Who knows what would have happened to us otherwise.”

She looked back at him and nodded, lips drawn thin.

“Let's make sure to thank him,” Harry said, looking out the window at Hagrid's cabin, which from so far away was just a tiny glow.

At 8:55 Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all crammed underneath Harry's invisibility cloak, taking tiny steps in order to avoid tripping over one another. They were all growing so it was hard to squeeze under the cloak together. Ron was bent double, and Harry had to twist his neck in odd position so by the time they were halfway down to Hagrid's hut, his neck had developed a crick.

“Ouch! Ron, mind where you put your feet!” Hermione hissed as they passed a pair of prefects making their rounds outside.

One of the prefects, a boy Harry didn't know, held up his hand and halted in his tracks.

“Hold on. Did you hear that, Emmeline?”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped pacing and stood as still as they could, collectively holding their breath.

The girl squinted her eyes and looked around. “I thought I heard something, yes. Lumos!” She held her wand at arm's length and paced around. In time she walked straight up to the trio, huddled under the cloak.

They backed up as quickly as they could, though they could barely manage baby-steps. Just when Emmeline stopped moving toward them, and turned back to leave, there was a noticeable “crack.” Harry looked over at Ron, who was wincing. Ron lifted up his foot to reveal a stick, broken in half.

Emmeline whipped back around again, motioned for the boy to come, and approached steadily.

“Now what are we going to do?” Harry rasped so quietly he could barely even hear himself.

“Hold on,” Ron whispered back, and before Harry could do anything to stop him, he fell to his knees and rolled out from under the cloak

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, before Harry clamped his hand over her mouth. He motioned for her to be quiet and then removed his hand.

Ron crawled on the lawn in the darkness, silent as a ghost. He darted around the edge of the pool of light cast by Emmeline's wand and then bolted to his feet off to the left of her.

Harry heard Ron's voice say, “Lumos!” just as Emmeline was an inch from bumping into Harry and Hermione. Distracted by the light, she whipped around to face Ron, shining her light on him.

Ron shielded his eyes with his hand and said, “Oi! Lower your wand, would you? You're blinding me here.”

Emmeline and the other boy, who had just walked up to her, both lowered their wands to their sides.

“Weasley? Is that you?” the boy called.

“Of course it's me,” Ron said back, walking up to them. “What I want to know is why you two felt it was necessary to stalk me and then nearly blind me while I was out on an innocent evening stroll, trying only to observe the stars in all their beauty and splendor.”

Harry had to slap his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing.

“We thought you were a student who had snuck out of the castle,” Emmeline said, shoulders slouching.

“Well, I'm not. In fact, I'm your superior. And quite frankly I feel like my privacy has been violated. So, if you don't want me to report this to the Head Boy and Girl, I suggest you hurry along now.”

They both skirted along as fast as their legs could carry them for the castle. When they were a safe distance away, Ron called, “Where are you?”

Harry lifted the cloak off their heads and waved to Ron. “We're over here!” Ron saw them, smiled, and strolled over.

“I don't think we'll ever have a problem running into those two again,” he said smartly, sliding his palms together a few times like someone who has just finished a task they are proud of.

Harry laughed. “I can't believe you thought of that!”

“Hey, Hermione's not the only one who can think of brilliant plans at the drop of a dime,” Ron said indignantly.

They set off down the slope for Hagrid's hut, disregarding the invisibility cloak. When they reached it, Harry only knocked once when the door was jerked open and Hagrid stepped out, almost knocking them over.

“Are yeh sure no one followed yeh?” Hagrid said nervously, looking over their heads up the hill.

“We're sure,” Harry said. “Why--”

Hagrid stopped looking up the hill and ushered them all toward the forest with vigor; their heels were digging trenches in the dirt as he pushed them. When they were a safe distance back in the forest, Harry yelled, “Hagird! Okay, enough already! Stop!”

Hagrid stopped pushing them and they all brushed the twigs and pine needles off their clothes. Harry shook his head to free it of debris and Ron glowered at Hagrid then spit a whole cluster of needles out of his mouth.

“What's the rush?” Ron demanded.

“Oh, sorry `bout tha',” Hagrid said, sounding much calmer now. “It's jus' Grawpy's on his las' chance. If anyone found out he was `ere, Dumbledore'd have to get rid o' him.” He withdrew a handkerchief the size of a dish towel from inside his coat and blew into it. “I dunno what I'd do if they took `im away,” he blubbered. “He's family, yeh know. And he's getting so much better now, too! Lord, wait `til yeh see `im. Yeh'll hardly believe it!”

“We're really looking forward to seeing him,” Hermione said enthusiastically. “Aren't we?” She glanced over at Harry and Ron meaningfully.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Ron said.

Hagrid failed to notice the sarcasm in his voice. He beamed down at them and said, “Aw, it's good to hear tha'. Grawpy's been lookin' forward to seeing yeh too,” he added as he led the way through the forest. Harry could tell by the way the ground was pounded down and branches that normally would have stood as barriers were broken off the trees that Hagrid used this path often. “He's been asking me all summer `bout yeh, Hermione. All I heard day in an' day out was `where's Hermy?'” He let out a laugh, trailed by a sigh. “Ah, Grawp. He's a good boy.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. Harry could tell how attached Hagrid had really grown to Grawp since he'd last seen them together. It pained him to think of what it would do to Hagrid if word of Grawp ever leaked out.

“Hey, Hagrid,” said Hermione, “Whatever happened to Grawp when the centaurs attacked us last year? He was bleeding pretty badly when he staggered off through the woods.”

“Well, he was a bit o' a mess when Dumbledore, Minerva, and me found `im; arrows poking out all over his face. It took a good hour to pull `em all out, an' we had to stun `im before we could even get to `em. But anyway, I guess he ran off into the woods after he grew scared by the centaurs attacking `im and then plum' tired out after a while and fell asleep. Bloody centaurs. Grawp wasn't doin' nothin' to `em, but they go off and shoot their arrows at `im anyway, and claim the forest is all theirs.”

“Where are the centaurs now anyway?” Harry asked. “How can you still keep Grawp in here without the centaurs attacking him? And what if they catch us back in here; they've already declared they'll kill us if we come into the forest.”

“Ah, well… turns out Grawp killed a few o' `em.” Hermione gasped and rasied her hands to her mouth. “He didn't know wha' he was doin'. Like I said, he was scared. So Dumbledore, he went and had a talk with Bane. He yelled at him about how the forest belonged to everyone and yelled at him about attacking you two as well. And Bane yelled back that Grawp didn't belong here, and their laws required that he be killed after he killed their brothers. So then Dumbledore- he's a great man, Dumbledore- he drew a magic line around the whole of Hogwart's grounds, back `bout ten miles into the forest, which the centaurs can't cross. So long's yer within tha' ten miles, yer safe from the centaurs. Same goes fer Grawp.”

They walked on in silence for a while, guided by the moonlight that lit up the path. Harry was very relieved to hear about the centaurs being banished; he hadn't considered what might happen to them if they bumped into the centaurs while they were back in the forest before he agreed to enter it.

“Well, `ere we are,” Hagrid announced what must have been a good fifteen minutes later.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all breathing heavily from the effort of keeping up with Hagrid's giant strides.

“Geez, Hagrid, d'you think you've got him hidden far enough back in here?” Ron huffed.

“I hope so,” Hagrid said simply. Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs, as if to say “stop being so insensitive!”

They emerged into a different clearing than the one Grawp had stayed in before. It was quite big, and the presence of twenty or so stumps told Harry Hagrid had probably cut down some trees in order to enlarge the space. To Harry's surprise, Grawp was not tied up this time. He was standing next to a tree, looking into its branches. Harry looked on, bewildered, as Grawp pulled a nest out of the tree, held it up to his face for a minute, and then placed it back where it belonged, as gentle as could be.

Hagrid smiled at Harry and Hermione. “I told yeh he was better!” He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Eh, Grawpy! I've got some visitors fer yeh! Look! It's Harry and Hermy!” Hermione noticeably cringed at Hagrid's reference to her as `Hermy'. “They've come ter see yeh, Grawp! And look! This here's Ron. He's a friend of Harry and Hermy.”

Grawp turned around slowly. When he caught sight of Hermione, he moved forward as fast as a bolt of lightening. Harry made to step out in front of her, but Grawp got there before he did. He snatched Hermione up in his enormous hand and held her up in front of him. Hermione released a scream.

“Hermy!” Grawp called. “Hermy! Hermy!” He shook Hermione up and down slightly.

Harry looked desperately to Hagrid for help, and Ron had run up and started kicking Grawp's foot, yelling, “Let her go, you great brute!” Hagrid, however, only laughed until he was doubled over.

“Ah, Grawpy,” he choked. “Yer such a hoot! See, Hermione? I told yeh he was lookin' forward to seein' yeh!” he called up to her.

Hermione squeaked in response. Her hair was frazzled and her face was very pale. Ron finally stopped kicking Grawp, realizing it was doing little good, and walked back over to Harry.

“Er…Hagrid,” said Harry. “I think it would be best if Grawp put Hermione down now….”

“Aw, he was just sayin' `ello is all. Hey, Grawpy! Be a good boy an' let poor Hermy go now.”

Grawp looked back and forth between Hermione and Hagrid a few times, then bent over and set Hermione gently on the ground. Harry and Ron both rushed up to her and pulled her back to where they were standing. She clung tightly to Harry's arm, shaking slightly.

“Why Harry and Hermy no visit Grawp over summer?” Grawp asked.

“We were on holiday, Grawp,” explained Harry. “We were far away from here, so we couldn't visit you.”

Harry wasn't sure whether or not Grawp understood. He simply stood there, staring at him, and then grunted. “Grawp live here now,” he said slowly, pointing around at the trees. “Me show you home.”

“O-okay, Grawp,” Harry said uncertainly.

“What's there to see?” Ron asked.

“Ah, you'll see,” Hagrid said, grinning.

Grawp stomped over to a gigantic tree lying flat on the ground and stabbed his finger at it.

“Bench.”

He then plodded a few steps around the clearing and pointed at a place on the ground where it looked like a huge rock had set before, smashing the ground down firm and smooth. “Bed,” he grunted, looking over at them and pointing his finger at the ground.

Ron nodded his head slowly, pretending he saw the point.

Grawp clumped a few more steps around the clearing to a huge boulder.

“Table.”

Then, finishing off the tour, he walked back to the tree he had been standing beside when they first saw him and said happily, “Bird family.”

Hagrid smiled and clapped. “Well done, Grawpy! You showed them your home, didn't yeh! Isn't it nice?” he asked the trio.

“Oh yeah,” said Ron thickly. “It's really great.”

“Listen, Hagrid, it's been great visiting and all, but we should really be heading back to the castle. It's getting late,” said Harry, noticing Hermione was still rather shaky. He thought it would be good to get her away from Grawp.

“I understan',” Hagrid said sadly. “Grawpy? We have to go now! It's their bed time! But they promise to visit you again very soon, okay? Can you say `goodbye'?”

Grawp raised his hand and jerked it back in forth, trying to wave. “Bye Hermy! Bye Harry! Bye Run!”

“It's `Ron',” Ron corrected under his breath.

“Oh, before we go, Grawp, Hermione and I wanted to thank you for helping us out last year. Remember? You chased the centaurs away, and you really saved our lives. So thanks,” said Harry. He shook Hermione slightly, and jerked his head at Grawp.

“Oh…yeah, thanks,” she squeaked, attempting a smile.

“What do you say, Grawp?” Hagrid prompted.

“Yoo Wellcoom!” Grawp said loudly, throwing his head back and clapping his hands. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all had to cover their ears with their hands to keep from going deaf from the noise of Grawp's clapping.

“Alright, alright,” Hagrid said, chuckling again. “Tha's `nuff, Grawpy. Goodnight, now!”

As they all left the clearing, Grawp fell onto his side and rested his head on his hands in the area he called his bed. There really had been a transformation in him. Sure, he was still a giant, but he was certainly the tamest giant Harry had ever heard of. He guessed Hagrid's devotion had really paid off in the end.

* * * * *

The next day was a typical Wednesday for Harry. The first half of the day was spent in the library, alone, while Hermione and Ron were off at Charms. After that, he had a hurried lunch and then returned to the library to finish his essay for Snape, before heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Snape spent a good part of their lesson grading Harry's essay while Harry sat around, extremely bored. In the end, Snape awarded him an `A', which was about the lowest grade he had ever received in the class. This naturally put Harry in a bad mood, so the hexes they practiced the rest of the lesson were a bit off, and Snape assigned him a load of homework as what he referred to as “compensation for an abysmal lesson.”

Harry left the lesson in a bitter mood. His bag was so full of books that he was leaning to the side, so he decided to drop it off in his dormitory before heading down to dinner. He stomped through the Common Room, which was completely empty of students, and up the stairs. When he entered the dormitory, he yelped and dropped his bag on his foot, which caused him to yelp again. He had been startled by Ron jumping out in front of him. Ron was now rolling on the floor, clutching his sides as he laughed hysterically.

Now very agitated at the way his day was going, Harry glowered at Ron, scooped up his bag, and stepped around Ron to set his bag on his bed.

“I'm glad my misfortunes are so funny to you,” Harry said bitterly.

Ron continued laughing as he scrambled to his feet.

“You should've seen your face! You came in and then I jumped out and you went `Ahh!' and then- and then the bag fell on your foot and you- you yelled `Ahh!' again.” Ron burst into another fit of laughter.

Harry peered at him strangely, eyebrow cocked. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Wha? Yeah, I'm feeling GREAT!”

Harry observed Ron as he proceeded to skip around the room like someone watching a drunk make a fool of himself. Come to think of it, Ron was acting a bit like a drunk might. Uncle Vernon had returned from a company banquet one night incredibly tipsy, and had patted Harry on the head and referred to him as `Little Prince William' the rest of the night. Harry had sworn to himself right then to never drink too much.

“Are… are you drunk?”

Ron stopped skipping and said, “No! I am not drunk! Do I look like some mad drunk to you?!”

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he set to looking around the room for some clue that would point to what was wrong with Ron. Before long he spotted it. On the windowsill beside Ron's bed was a jar. Inside the jar was an electric blue Billywig.

Confirming Harry's suspicions, Ron's feet suddenly left the ground and he levitated a couple feet above the floor, laughing and flipping himself over by spinning his arms.

Harry shook his head reproachfully and strode across the room to the windowsill. He undid the latch and swung the window open, then twisted the lid off the jar and set the Billywig free. The Billywig zoomed out of the jar faster than a racehorse out of the gate, and then turned around and blew a raspberry at Harry as he shut the window again.

There was a loud crashing sound, and when Harry turned around he found Ron on the ground, sitting up and rubbing his head.

As he looked at him, Harry remembered the comment Ron had made during the lesson they had on Billywigs, when he had asked Hagrid how many Billywigs he had. Apparently he had smuggled one of the extras back with him to the castle and hid it in his trunk.

Harry made a tutting sound as he walked back across the room and pulled Ron to his feet.

“You great fool, you weren't supposed to steal the Billywigs and hold them hostage!”

“Ouch, my head,” Ron groaned, still rubbing the back of it where he had apparently hit a bedpost on the fall down.

“Serves you right,” Harry said, shoving him back on his bed. “Just stay here until you're rid of the Billywig juice. I'll bring you some dinner.”

“Oh, okay…” muttered Ron, turning over onto his side. Harry drew the hangings closed around Ron's bed and then headed down for dinner. When he sat down, Hermione asked if he had seen Ron anywhere, and he related the whole story to her.

She adopted a motherly tone and crossed her arms as she said, “He shouldn't have done that. It's not exactly healthy to have Billywigs sting you day in and day out. In fact, many wizards who do that have weird reactions in time that can make them really sick. He's lucky that didn't happen to him, the git.”

Harry laughed to himself as he stabbed a beef tip with his fork. “That's Ron for you. He's not about to look into the consequences of something before he does it like you would… especially not if he'd rather not know them and just enjoy it for what it was worth,” he said, resting his elbow on the table and waving the beef tip at her as he spoke.

“Well, it's not worth having an ear fall off or his immune system destroyed, that's for sure,” Hermione said pointedly, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

“Those are the side effects?” Harry said, bemused.

“Mhmm.”

“Wow,” he said, stabbing another beef tip. “Definitely not worth it.”

* * * * *

By the next morning, Ron was fine. He apologized to Harry for acting like such a buffoon and then listened, face very pale, to Hermione lecture him on everything that could have gone wrong. When she mentioned writing to his mum about it, Ron's fork clattered to his plate and he practically cried as he begged her not to tell his mum. Luckily for Ron, Hermione wasn't really planning on writing to Mrs. Weasley; she threatened him with it in order to teach him a lesson. Ron had never looked more relieved in his life than when Hermione assured him she wouldn't write to his mother.

After his Charms lesson with Professor Flitwick, Harry decided to ask Hermione to help him practice his Legilimency. She agreed to right away, and so they packed up their books and headed through the corridors until they came across an empty classroom. Along the way, Harry explained why he needed to practice with her, instead of alone, and what it consisted of. Hermione made a comment along the lines of they could practically read each others' minds anyway, and explained how she had been hoping to learn Occlumency as well. She was very supportive in expressing how she was glad she could help him out with his training in a way other than helping him study.

On the fourth floor they finally found an unoccupied classroom. They sat across from each other on the classroom floor after Harry closed the door.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

Hermione took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and nodded. Harry kept his eyes focused on hers and said, “Legilimens.”

Before he knew it, Harry was faced with a stream of unfamiliar images rushing through his mind. It felt like watching a very odd, sporadic film. On a street lined with townhouses, each with its own healthy green lawn, a tiny girl with bushy brown hair wobbled on a purple bicycle. She managed to roll a couple feet before she toppled over to the side and when she looked up a concerned man was bent over her, offering his hand; it was Mr. Granger. His face disappeared and was replaced with a little boy's filthy face, smiling at Hermione from the opposite end of a see-saw. Again the images changed, and this time Harry recognized the setting: the Hogwarts' library. It was very dark; it was clearly after-hours. Harry saw Hermione's hand skim the book bindings in search for whatever it was she had gone there for, and then suddenly another hand appeared, grabbing hers and pulling it back behind her, out of sight. Harry, his heart rate accelerating, listened to a deep voice speaking menacingly in her ear. Hermione was shoved forward into the bookcase and then she fell to the ground. The undistinguishable figure moved away in the dark and then disappeared all together.

Presently, Harry extracted his mind from Hermione's thoughts and stared at her wildly. He knew exactly who the voice belonged to, and anger was steadily boiling inside of him.

Hermione spoke, voice quavering, “Harry, I—”

“Why didn't you tell me about this? When did this happen?” Harry interrupted angrily.

“Friday night, while you were at Quidditch try-outs… you already have so much to worry about right now… it's not that big of a deal….”

Harry sprang to his feet. She grabbed his arm.

“Harry, forget about it. I'm fine.” With that he tore across the room to the door.

“Harry, wait-”

He shut the door firmly and stormed down the hall. It was as obvious to Harry who had grabbed Hermione as if he had been standing in the room watching the whole scene unfold. The bell rang and the halls began to fill with students, happy to be released from class for the day. Harry ran outside, knowing the Slytherins were heading back from Herbology.

He found his fists and jaw were clenched as he jumped in a little alcove hidden behind a protruding wall. A group of gossiping Slytherin girls strolled past, Pansy Parkinson leading the pack.

“And she actually thought he was looking at her? She wishes.”

“I know; it was obvious he was looking at you.”

Their voices trailed off and others took their place.

“Well, Sprout is really beginning to impress me,” said a voice with a thick drawl. Harry dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. “She's managed to lead a dull class for six years now without ever making it interesting.”

There was a low rumble that sounded like gorilla calls. It basically was, seeing as it came from Crabbe and Goyle.

As they neared Harry's hiding spot, he reflected upon the time he had managed to get Cedric Diggory alone, and decided to make his move.

“Diffindo.” Harry pointed his wand at Draco's bag, causing it to rip along the seam. His books all toppled out and he cursed.

“Forget about it Goyle- I'll meet you in the Great Hall.”

Crabbe and Goyle strode off again, eager to eat their dinners. Harry waited for them to round the corner and then jumped out to face Malfoy.

Malfoy looked up at him in surprise, still holding his books. “I should have known my new bag wouldn't have ripped on its own,” he sneered.

Harry took a step forward, clenching his fists even tighter. He felt like his blood was boiling.

“You came up behind Hermione in the library,” he said fiercely.

Malfoy laughed. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Who knows?”

“You harassed her!” Harry shouted, stepping forward again.

“What would I want to touch the Mudblood for?”

“Don't call her that!” Harry roared, closing the remaining gap between them with his fist. All thoughts except causing Malfoy as much pain as possible abandoned him. His fist collided hard with Malfoy's nose and blood splattered all over his hand.

Malfoy cried out but reacted fast, driving his fist into Harry's stomach. Harry felt the wind get knocked out of him, but still he pulled back his fist over and over again, pummeling every square inch of Malfoy that he could reach.

Suddenly Malfoy launched himself at Harry's legs and they both fell, ripping at one another viciously as they began to roll down the hill. At the bottom of the slope Harry felt a jolt and a strong blow of pain hit him in the center of his back; he had just smashed right into a tree. He groaned and grabbed his back, allowing Malfoy to scramble free from his clutches. Before Harry realized what was happening, Malfoy was standing a few feet from him with his wand extended.

Harry looked up in alarm and rolled himself over to the left just in time, as a jet of light hit the tree and bounced off in an odd angle. He stood quickly, withdrawing his wand as he went.

“Esclater!”

A yellow jet of spiraling light shot from his wand and skimmed Malfoy's cheek, leaving a deep bloody slash there.

Malfoy was quick to retaliate. “Stringere!”

Harry felt every muscle in his body suddenly tighten in a tense pain and he was forced to hunch over his back where it felt like an anvil was being set on it.

Malfoy smirked, clearly thinking he was victorious. The sight of his pompous sneer made more righteous anger sear through Harry. He discreetly mumbled the minor healing spell Hermione had taught him, easing some of the tension through his now very sore back and then shot another spell at Malfoy.

“Lanceare!”

Malfoy's eyes shot wide open as the spell hit him and he was launched high into the air in a wild arch before falling hard on his backside further up the hill.

Harry straightened up completely and ran up after him, intending to give him one more threat. However, before he got very far, another unexpected spell hit him and he felt a sharp stabbing pain directly below his left shoulder. He groaned and grabbed his shoulder; blood was flowing freely from the wound, soaking through his shirt.

Harry distantly heard a mad cackle. Malfoy was standing again. “Thought you had beaten me, Potter? You can't stand against the powers I've learned.”

Harry felt dizzy and weakened as he lost more and more blood. He continued stumbling up the hill towards Malfoy.

“Oh, still trying to fight, are you?” Malfoy taunted. “Well then, I'll just give you another example, shall I? Eicere!”

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry blocked the spell and it deflected back on Malfoy, launching him in a twisting spiral straight up, high into the air before the spell wore off and he freefell the 25 feet back to the ground, where he landed in a crumpled heap.

Harry walked up to him, standing over him. Malfoy was groaning on the ground, his arm bent out in a weird angle.

“Who's winning now?” Harry asked. Malfoy groaned again, wriggling in his spot. Harry seized a handful of Malfoy's robes, pulling his face up close to his own.

“If I ever hear you've harmed Hermione in any way again, you'll be feeling a lot worse than you are now. Understand?”

Malfoy groaned again dramatically, refusing to look at Harry. Harry shook him slightly.

“Do you understand me?” Harry repeated.

Malfoy looked up at him with utmost loathing and spat directly in his face.

Harry dropped him in disgust and wiped the spit from his face. A second later he was finding it very difficult to breathe or move. Malfoy stood up haphazardly, his wand pointed at Harry.

Harry fought to inhale, hands traveling to his throat. His head began to swim and he collapsed to his knees. Malfoy kicked him hard in the ribs.

“I'll do anything I bloody want to that hideous little wannabe witch.”

Harry was now panicking, gagging on the ground. Malfoy was going to suffocate him. Spots were spinning in front of his vision and his head throbbed, yet Malfoy still held the spell over him.

“Malfoy, leave him alone!”

Harry strained his eyes to see Hermione running up to them. Malfoy cursed but still held the spell. Harry could no longer see anything and he was only faintly aware of any sound.

“Accio wand!”

Harry felt the spell lift off of him; he leaned forward and gasped for air.

“Ah, I see Potty needs his precious mudblood to come and save him again. Go figure.”

“You almost killed him!” Hermione shrieked, looking at Harry with deep concern.

“Did I? Whoops. Wouldn't want that now, would we?”

A second later Hermione had her wand pointed directly at his heart. Malfoy gulped. He was quite defenseless without his wand.

“Give me one more reason to hex you, and I swear you'll wish you were never born,” Hermione said icily.

Harry, having finally managed to catch his breath again, stood feebly and also pointed his wand at Malfoy.

Malfoy snorted and turned on his heel, striding briskly back to the castle.

Hermione watched him go with steely eyes and then turned back to Harry, who was again nursing his shoulder wound.

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed distressfully, examining his bloody wound with great concern. “I wish I could heal this, but I can't. You're going to need to go to the hospital wing; Madam Pompfry can mend it.”

Harry nodded grimly. They set off for the castle, Hermione supporting him around the waist as he swayed. His loss of blood was really taking a toll on him; Malfoy's curse had been powerful. Harry was silent, trying to focus his mind on Quidditch instead of the immense pain he was in.

Hermione sighed again. “Harry, why did you have to go after him? It wasn't that important, I can take care of myself.”

“What d'you mean, why'd I go after him?” Harry said incredulously. “What'd you s'pose I do, let him get away with it? He….he….he had no right to touch you, Hermione! The filthy bast-”

“I know Harry, I know. I just hate to see you hurt is all, and now I've gotten you into trouble-”

“You didn't do anything to get me into trouble. I got myself into this and to tell you the truth, I don't regret it one bit. Too bad I couldn't have done more….”
As they approached the great oak doors to the Entrance Hall, Hermione suddenly stood on her tip-toes and kissed Harry on the cheek.

“You've done more than enough already,” she whispered into his ear.

Harry found himself blushing and simpering in spite of himself.

Hermione accompanied him all the way to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pompfry was quick to shoo her away. She hastily promised to stop back in later as Madam Pompfry closed the door on her.

“What is it this time, Mr. Potter?” Madam Pompfry asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Harry glanced around the room. Sure enough, Malfoy was a few beds down, curtains pulled partially closed around him; his arm was in a sling and he appeared to be sleeping.

“I, er- kinda got in a little fight.”

Madam Pompfry bustled around, grabbing various items she would need.

“Fighting, eh? It wouldn't have been with Mr. Malfoy, now would it?”

She stood at his bedside and pressed a blanket hard onto his shoulder. He grunted in objection, sitting up on the bed and gritting his teeth.

“Oh, stop fussing,” she scolded.

Harry gave her a look that clearly said he wasn't over-reacting.

“Remove your shirt and I'll bandage it up for you. Seems like this spell hit you pretty good; I've never had a student come in like this before. It doesn't seem to want to clot up; odd, considering I've never seen any spell cause that before. Well, not counting dark magic of course, but this must be something else…”

Harry glanced back over at Malfoy again as he lifted his shirt over his head with his good arm. Apparently he was learning plenty of dark magic already.

“Oh my,” she gasped with her hand placed delicately over her mouth, looking at his wound. Harry looked away, afraid he would be sick. What appeared to be a large bullet hole went all the way through his shoulder, exposing all of the muscles and vessels inside, as well as the pillow behind him.

“Just wait one moment.” She went and rummaged through a cupboard and came back with a big jar of green paste. Harry continued to hold the cloth against his shoulder in a futile attempt to halt the stream of blood. Madam Pompfry spread the paste all over his bandage before wrapping it tightly around him.

It stung so much that Harry had to bite down on his tongue until it was bleeding to keep from screaming. She wound the bandage around him tightly and then poured him two glasses of potion.

“Here- drink the orange one first, it'll help heal the wound quicker.”

Harry gulped it all down and almost gagged it all back up again; it tasted like tar. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yes, I know it isn't exactly sweet. Here, this one will let you sleep through the night.”

Harry took it less than eagerly, pinched his nose, and downed it all in one go. He barely managed to lay his head on his pillow before he yawned off to a dreamless sleep.

A/N: Thank you for reading (correction, finishing) this lengthy chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. PLEASE let me know what you thought, and resist the temptation to flame me for my long absence.

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