Harry Potter and the Demons Within by padfootmoony13

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 04/08/2004
Last Updated: 27/02/2005
Status: In Progress

Taking place where the 5th book left off, Harry is left with angst, haunting nightmares, and a
new thirst for revenge and improvement. Throw in new mysterious characters, Harry's growing
feelings for a 'friend', attacks, and Voldemort's latest plot...HHr/RL ***IF YOU'VE
BEEN LOOKING FOR A H/HR STORY THAT IS REALISTIC, EVENTFUL, HAS INTERESTING PLOT TWISTS, AND IS
WRITTEN IN A VERY SIMILAR STYLE TO JKR, THIS IS THE STORY FOR YOU.*** (according to Tori S., a
reader) **Chapter 21 Up... Quidditch try-outs, an odd letter, Grawp, Legilimency, a fight and... a
Billywig. please read and review!***




1. Are You Home?
----------------


**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.



2. Not Again
------------


**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.



3. A Clash With the Ministry
----------------------------


**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.



4. Floo Fiasco
--------------


**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.



5. The Kitchen of Grimmauld Place
---------------------------------


**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 4th 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.”



6. Explanations from the Order
------------------------------


**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.”



7. Concealed Identities
-----------------------


**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.



8. An Unexpected Roommate
-------------------------

**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.



9. The Dark Den Discussion
--------------------------

**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.”



10. An Inheritance
------------------


**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.



11. A Trip to Diagon Alley
--------------------------



**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 6th
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.

-->



12. The Trial
-------------



**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 2nd 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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13. Initiation, Celebration, Locomotion
---------------------------------------


**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
6th 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 1st, 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 6th 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 6th 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.**



14. A Leader Emerges
--------------------



**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?**

-->



15. The New Gryffindor
----------------------



**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!**

-->



16. A New Way of Life
---------------------



**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).**

-->



17. Two Aurors In-Training
--------------------------



**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 o**f 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.”

-->



18. Dumbledore, the Great Idealist
----------------------------------



**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.

-->



19. Giddiness and Shame
-----------------------



**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 goo****dness 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!**

-->



20. Admittance and Reunion
--------------------------



**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.**

-->



21. Try-Out, Block Out, Sneak Out, Knock Out
--------------------------------------------



**Chapter 21- Try-Out, Block Out, Sneak Out, Knock Out**

* * *

**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)**

* * *

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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