Disclaimer: There is actually someone who hasn't figured it out by now?
Summary: Look two lines up.
Small Snippet to Torture Reader Until Reader Reads (and Reviews .:Hint:. .:Hint:.): "Honestly, Harry! We need to get back upstairs. If someone finds us down here like this, we'll be in so much trouble!" - "Don't care." - "Well, I do!" To his chagrin, she tried to pry his hands off again, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. He couldn't help the smile that worked its way onto his face as he heard her frustrated sigh. He was having way too much fun with this.
~*~*~*~*~
Secrets of the Soulless
(Chapter Five)
~*~*~
At some point during the night, Harry's eyes had seemingly opened of their own accord. There had been no loud noises (well, no more than usual) or scary visions to wake him; it had just happened, and Harry found himself unable to keep his eyes closed for longer than thirty seconds before they would pop back open against his will. Yes, he had counted the seconds. He'd hoped that he would be able to bore himself back to sleep with numbers. It hadn't worked.
Finally, giving up on his quest for sleep, he slunk out of bed, careful not to make too much noise; though, he wondered if he needn't bother; Ron's snores easily drowned out the noise of creaking floorboards under Harry's feet. He vaguely thought of creating a contest for Ron and Neville for when they returned to Hogwarts called the Snore Sports and wondered if they wouldn't tie for the gold medal. Harry, Seamus, and Dean would be the judges, of course, and would determine who could snore the loudest and who could snore the best, staying on beat, to classical music. The final contest would be the trickiest; they would have to record each boy's snores and set the players off in the girls' dorms. The one to wake up the most girls would be the winner. The tricky part would be getting Hermione to help them set off the players and jot down the number of girls to wake from the loud racket. . . .
Harry only realized that his musings (or maybe, his empty stomach) had carried him all the way to the kitchen when he found his path blocked by the closed door. As he entered the room, he realized that he wasn't the only one unable to sleep that night. There she was, the girl who had occupied his mind only moments ago, sitting at the end of the kitchen table. She hadn't made any indication to his presence, and he was about to say something until his ears picked up on the soft sound that had escaped her lips. He quickly swallowed the words that he'd been about to speak, as he realised she was crying. 'Not again. Please, not again.' His spirit broke every time he saw her cry, and this time was no exception.
"Hermione?" he asked, as he rushed over to her, hoping that he was wrong, hoping that she was okay and wasn't crying. She jumped and nearly fell out of her seat when he called to her. Clearly, she hadn't heard him come in. 'So much for hope,' he thought; her face was streaked with tears. He sat down in the seat beside her, willing himself not to turn away from her pain. "What's wrong?" Her gaze was focused on the table in front of her, unmoving.
"I -," she began but stopped. More tears fell. He couldn't stand this. He didn't know what to do. She was in pain, and he couldn't do anything to help her. Why couldn't he do anything to help her? He could save her life when he had to, but when she was crying, he couldn't make her smile? No, he had to do something. Instinct told him to at least reach out and take her hand, show her that he was there for her, so tentatively he clasped his hand around one of hers and brought it closer to him so he could hold it. She finally turned toward him again. "I - I'm so sorry!" she bawled, suddenly jumping at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She was openly sobbing into his shirt now, soaking it profusely. Great. He'd made things worse.
"Shh, it's okay. Don't cry. You don't have anything to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong. Everything will be just fine. Please, Hermione . . ." Her cries only became louder at his words. He decided that keeping his mouth shut from that point on would be a wise idea. Why did he always make girls cry? Was it just him, or was it a Potter trait that had been handed down through the generations?
"I-I'm so s-sorry! I should have s-stopped you, but I d-didn't! It's all my fault!" she continued, soaking his shirt even more.
Now, his curiosity was piqued. What hadn't she stopped him from doing? What was her fault? "Hermione, what -"
"Sirius, he'd s-still be alive if - it's my fault! You must h-hate me!" She tightened her hold on him, forcing herself closer.
Of all the things he'd expected to hear her say, that wasn't one of them. She blamed herself for what happened to Sirius? How could she? All she had tried to do was help, but he had been too stubborn to listen. And . . . how on earth could she possibly think he hated her? "Hermione, don't be ridiculous! I don't -" Her tears almost doubled again. Apparently, it wasn't a wise idea to call a girl ridiculous when she was crying. Yes, keeping his mouth shut was a very good idea. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong moment to fall silent.
"You do hate me! You won't even say anything!"
"NO!" he almost yelled in his hurry to reassure her that he could never dream of such a thing, not at all. "Of course not, Hermione! How could you think that I . . . ? I could never! Even if it had been your fault, which it hadn't been, I still wouldn't! I could never hate you! Never . . ." he kept repeating, trying to reassure her, trying to drive away such horrible thoughts from her mind. "It wasn't your fault! All you did was try to help me. You tried to warn me. It was my fault for not listening to you, so don't you dare blame yourself for any of it!" He began rubbing her back in slow circles, hoping that it would have the same effect on her as it had had the last time she'd been upset.
No, it wasn't her fault. It was his fault for playing the hero at all costs; it was Dumbledore's fault for keeping secrets; it was Snape's fault for cutting off Harry's Occlumency lessons and acting like Harry was a raving lunatic when he'd tried to warn the smarmy Professor about what had happened; it was Kreacher's fault for lying; it was Bellatrix's fault for actually hitting Sirius with that damned curse; and it was Voldemort's fault for . . . well, everything; but it was least of all Hermione's fault.
Slowly her tears abated, her breathing steadied, and she finally calmed down enough to speak, only letting out an occasional hiccup. "I suppose a lot of people blame themselves, don't they?" He didn't answer her. "Tonks was upset because she'd been the one battling with Bellatrix before Sirius. She thinks it was her fault for not taking Bellatrix down first. Then, Remus thinks that it was his fault for not having been at the house like he was supposed to have been to check up on Sirius that night. He thinks that he could have stopped you from leaving in the first place. Then, there's Dumbledore . . . and a ton of people from the Order who feel horrible because they weren't able to come and help. I think everyone feels guilty in a way. You're not the only one to think the whole thing was your fault.
"But, Harry, it wasn't your fault." Her voice was soft as she spoke. "You were just trying to help Sirius. You were just trying to make sure he was okay." He could feel her fingers gently twining through his hair. "You didn't know what was going to happen. You even tried to check to make sure it wasn't a trap, just in case. How could you blame yourself for caring about his safety enough to go to him and help him? You only did what anyone who's brave enough would do for a loved one." There was a moment's pause; then, she finished in a whisper, "I'd do the same for you."
He didn't know what to say. All of the words he knew in the English language seemed too coarse to reply with. He didn't need to respond, though; she understood. He could see it in her eyes. Instead of speaking, he wrapped his arms around her holding her tighter. He'd missed this. Ever since the day before, he'd missed the feeling of her close to him. It felt like it had been an eternity since the last time they'd held each other. She was so warm and soft; all of his thoughts just melted away.
Too soon for his liking, Hermione pulled away from him. Her expression was still sad, but she'd stopped crying at least. "I'm sorry, Harry."
"Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you that you have nothing to be sorry fo-"
"No, not for that. I'm sorry for crying all over you." She wiped at his night shirt where her tears had soaked it. "I'm no better than Cho, am I? I'm surprised I didn't scare you away with all of those waterworks." She gave him a small smile before returning to her own seat.
"I guess I was a bit surprised. You usually seem so collected and together . . . this was the second time I've seen you crying in less than a day." She didn't respond to him at first, just stared at the table in front of her.
"I'm not, you know."
"Not what?"
"Always composed. I'm actually usually a mess inside. Even after all this time, I still get so anxious when we're on one of the crazy adventures we tend to get ourselves into. You'd think I'd have gotten used to it by now, but I'm not. I just don't normally show it. I think third year was when I showed it the most. That year was one of the worst when I had that wretched time-turner, when I didn't have you or Ron around much."
"Hermione, I'm sor-"
"Don't. I'm not looking for sympathy, Harry, and I don't want to make you feel any guiltier than you already are. I was just saying . . . but I'm all right now."
"No, you're not."
She gave him another smile. "No, but I will be. And so will you." She was quiet again until she spoke softly, almost to herself, "You know that sometimes, even though the thing drove me crazy, I wish I still had that time-turner. Maybe, I could have gone back in time and saved Sirius again for you. Maybe, it could come in handy again in the future? Maybe . . ."
"Hermione, there's no point in thinking that way. You don't have a time-turner anymore, so stop worrying yourself about it."
"I know, I'm just being silly, but I still wish I could have done something more. If only I had a time-turner again . . ."
He sighed. Once Hermione set her mind on something, it was almost impossible to divert her from it, so he decided to stop trying. Instead, he asked, "Why are you down here at this time of night, anyway? What happened to make you lose yourself so suddenly like this?"
"I've been feeling a bit down lately, that's all."
"It wasn't because of what I'd told you before was it? About the prophecy I mean . . ." He was curious since it wasn't like Hermione to be up this late, crying in the kitchen no less. He hoped it wasn't because of the prophecy. He'd never forgive himself if he'd been the one to make her cry.
"No, no. I suppose it was just a bad dream, and I couldn't get back to sleep. When I was young, my mom would make me warm milk to help whenever I had a nightmare. Somehow, it just seemed to always comfort me, so I decided to get some tonight. Only, there wasn't any milk, so I had pumpkin juice instead." She pointed to a glass on the table near her. "What's your excuse for being up?"
"Huh, oh. I couldn't really sleep - not because of a bad dream, though!" he'd hurried to say as soon as he saw the worried look on her face, "and I guess I was hungry. I was going to eat some leftovers."
"Well, that's a bit of a relief."
"What do you mean?"
"It's just that you haven't been eating a lot lately. I mean I know you just got here a few days ago, but you skipped breakfast, barely ate any lunch, and only ate half of your dinner. Mrs. Weasley wasn't kidding when she said you'd gotten thinner."
"Sorry. I don't mean to worry anyone. I just haven't been very hungry lately. I don't think being in this house helps my appetite any." He took a look around the dismal room, his eyes landing on the chair at the end of the table. That had been Sirius's chair. "Suddenly, I'm not so hungry any more."
"Harry." Hermione reached her hand out and laid it on his arm. "It'll get better. Just give it time."
He couldn't look anymore. He closed his eyes, fighting away the images that kept haunting him. "Time takes too long." He felt Hermione wrap her arms around him again as she settled on his lap, pressing his head down against her shoulder. She seemed to have a habit of running her fingers through his hair, but he wasn't complaining. The movement was relaxing and gave him something to concentrate on besides his memories.
He felt himself drifting off, lost in the sensations she was creating. "Harry." He didn't answer. "Harry, I think we should both get back to our beds." He didn't move. He hadn't even realized he'd wrapped his arms around her until he felt her hands brush against his. She tried to loosen his grip on her so she could get up, but he tightened his hold. "Honestly, Harry! We need to get back upstairs. If someone finds us down here like this, we'll be in so much trouble!"
"Don't care."
"Well, I do!" To his chagrin, she tried to pry his hands off again, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. He couldn't help the smile that worked its way onto his face as he heard her frustrated sigh. He was having way too much fun with this.
"Harry James Potter," uh-oh, she was using his full name, "if you don't let go of me, I'll tell Professor Snape who set off that firecracker in second year."
"You wouldn't!" He finally opened his eyes and pulled back to look at her in horror. "If you did, I'd tell him who stole the bicorn horn and boomslang skin from his private store!"
"I would, and it would be pointless for you to snitch on me because he thinks that you did that too and wouldn't believe you." She smirked at him knowing that she'd won. He groaned in disappointment but released his grip on her.
"Fine, spoil my fun."
She just rolled her eyes at him.
~*~*~
The next day brought on a busy household. During the morning and midday, Harry, Hermione and the two youngest Weasleys stayed in the drawing room out of the way of the others. Hermione read for the most part but was finally talked into playing a few rounds of Exploding Snap along with the others. That was until the ends of her hair got singed, and she swore off the whole game, returning to her book.
Harry noticed that something seemed to be bothering Ron, but every time Harry tried to ask what was wrong, Ron would change the subject. He decided that if he couldn't get his best mate to talk about it, then he'd at least try to get Ron's mind off of things. He figured a few games of wizard's chess would do the trick, but his plan hadn't worked very well since Harry had actually managed to win twice in a row; he chalked that bit of luck up to Ron's lack of concentration more than his chess prowess.
In the early evening, Order members filtered through the house, as if waiting for something important to happen. Harry soon found out what they were all there for as Dumbledore arrived and ushered everyone into the dinning area for their meeting to begin.
Harry wondered if he was going to be allowed in this meeting as well; after all, he wasn't an Order member, and it was likely that the last meeting he'd attended had been a one-time deal. He hoped that wasn't the case, though.
Slowly, he made his way, following the crowd, giving the others plenty of time to stop him and tell him he wasn't allowed in. Thankfully, no one held him back, and he proceeded to take the seat he'd occupied the last time next to a very worn looking Lupin. As he waited for the meeting to begin, he wondered if it had anything to do with the breakout from Azkaban.
Dumbledore stood at the head of the room, waiting for the chatter to die down. Once he had everyone's attention he asked, "I take it all who are coming are here?" No one spoke to tell him otherwise, so he continued. "As I'm sure most of you already know, there has been a breakout from Azkaban. However, there are some rather . . . strange details about the breakout that aren't widely known or fully understood. First, we believe that one of the three Aurors killed had been working as a double agent. We are no closer to figuring out who, though, than we'd been before. The second detail I'm not quite clear on. I believe Ms. Tonks has more information on this than I do. If you would please take it from here, Nymphadora -"
Tonks didn't seem too happy to hear her first name spoken aloud but didn't say anything to the headmaster about it. She stood from her place, a little farther down the table from Harry, to continue from where Dumbledore left off. "Right, well, the strange thing about the breakout was that it didn't just involve You-Know-Who's Death Eaters. Everyone from the prison escaped." A few people seemed curious at the prospect, but not many seemed to think such news was strange, so she continued, "When I say everyone, I mean every single prisoner. That includes Death Eaters, ex murderers and convicts, and also - the truly strange part - the soulless."
Chatter broke out amongst the members once again. A man's voice broke out from the mass and asked, "What do you mean by 'the soulless'?"
"What I mean by the soulless are those who have been given the dementor's kiss and have had their souls sucked out of their bodies."
A shiver seemed to pass around the room from the grotesque thought, as another voice rose from the crowd. "How can that be? Don't those who've been given the dementor's kiss die?"
Tonks was shaking her head from side to side, but before she could respond, Kingsley Shacklebolt answered, "No. The soulless become little more than vegetables, unmoving, but they do not die. Their hearts still beat. They still breathe, but they have no sense of self, no thoughts, no wills of their own. They have to be force-fed to keep them from starving to death. They're basically empty, living shells."
Tonks continued, "Right. What he said. Which is why it was so strange to see them moving at all, let alone fighting."
"Wait, you mean to tell me that the soulless were helping to fight against the Aurors in the revolt?" Mad-Eye Moody interrupted.
"Yes. I even saw Barty Crouch Jr. throwing out a few killing curses while I was there! It was complete chaos. We were lucky only three died," she replied.
"You've been rather quiet, Harry. What are your thoughts on this?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry was a bit startled, being asked to participate in the conversation, but he answered nonetheless. "I was just thinking about what all of this could mean. Voldemort has control over the dementors, so do you think it could be possible he might have found a way to return a person's soul?"
"I've never heard of it being done before, but it might be possible. Voldemort is capable of many things that most people aren't," the headmaster conceded.
"Yeah, but that still doesn't explain why the soulless who hadn't been Death Eaters had followed along with the others. The ex convicts who hadn't lost their souls all went in separate directions when they reached the mainland." Tonks told them, frowning in thought.
Harry continued his musings aloud since no one else had spoken up after Tonks' statement. "Before, when Voldemort didn't have his own body, he had to possess others to survive. If he took possession of a person without a soul, he'd probably have complete control over the body, making it seem like the person was almost normal again . . . well, to the point that the person could think and move again at any rate. He has his own body now, so it would be a lot harder for him to do, but it's still possible for him to possess people and animals." 'I would know,' Harry thought, remembering what had happened at the Ministry. "But that still can't be it."
"Go on, Harry," the headmaster prodded.
"While it is possible for Voldemort to possess someone, I don't think it's possible for him to possess more than one person at a time. Also, in my dream that night, I was seeing things from his perspective in his own body. When I had the dream of the attack on Mr. Weasley, Voldemort had been possessing his pet snake at the time, and I had seen everything through the snake's perspective. If Voldemort had been possessing someone during the breakout, I would have seen things through the eyes of the one being possessed instead of Voldemort's eyes."
Dumbledore nodded. "That's very true, but you might be on the right track, Harry." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps someone else was doing the possessing or was controlling the soulless in some similar way?" he muttered more to himself than the others; though, Harry still heard him. "Does anyone else have ideas?"
"I have a question, Professor," spoke a drawling voice from behind Harry. 'Oh no, not him! Anyone but him!' "How do we know we can trust Potter's dreams? How do we know he wasn't being sent false information like another time before? It's obvious his control over Occlumency hasn't improved at all if he still continues to have these dreams. Perhaps the Dark Lord really was possessing someone, but Potter wouldn't know any better since the Dark Lord could easily fool his weak mind."
Harry had long since turned around and was staring daggers at the vile Potion's Professor standing before him. His hands were itching to wrap themselves around Snape's throat. Oh, how he wished he could pay the wretched man back for what he'd done to Sirius. He hadn't had any good intentions where Sirius was concerned. He never cared about Harry's godfather. The bastard probably celebrated Sirius's death.
"Careful, Potter," Snape added in a low undertone for only Harry to hear. "Your anger is ruling your mind. I can see it as clear as day in your eyes. You're not keeping control."
Damn him. What right did he have to tell Harry he wasn't in control? Harry was in control. He hadn't given in to that urge to wrap his hands around Snape's throat and throttle him yet, had he? No. So therefore, he was very much in control.
"So, Potter. Tell us. How do you know you weren't being tricked again," Snape sneered at him, making Harry's hand twitch upward before he was able to regain enough composure to keep himself from harming the smarmy git.
"I know that it wasn't a trick. There was nothing in the dream that involved me. That other dream you keep referring to showed someone I cared about in danger. The whole point of showing that dream to me was to trick me into leaving Hogwarts' grounds and taking the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. None of my friends were being hurt in this past dream. There was no point in trying to trick me. It would have made more sense for Voldemort to have blocked me out completely than to waste his energy creating some illusion." Harry smirked when Snape flinched at hearing Voldemort's name. If he couldn't hurt him, at least he could make the slime ball uncomfortable.
"And how do you know that he doesn't have some ulterior motive, one that you would be incapable of seeing at the time?" Snape retorted.
"Okay, let's say the dream was a trick and he had been possessing someone. There's still the fact that he would only be able to possess one person. How would you explain all of the other soulless who were fighting, as though of their own accords?"
"The Dark Lord is very powerful, Potter. It is more than possible for him to be able to control more than one person."
"You think he could control that many? I highly doubt it. He had a hard enough time trying to possess me when we were at the Ministry; I can't imagine him being strong enough to deal with so many others. Also, you have to be near someone in order to possess them. Tonks, did either you or Kingsley see Voldemort anywhere that night?" They both shook their heads. "I didn't think so."
"Wait. The Dark Lord possessed you, Potter? If it's true that he can possess you so freely of his own will at any time, then you should be locked up without a wand!"
"I didn't say he could possess me at any time of his own free will! He did it once! At the Ministry on the night the prophecy broke. He was only able to do it when he was in close contact with me, and he was only able to keep me under for a few seconds!"
"Nonsense. Your mind isn't nearly strong enough to throw off the Dark Lord so quickly. Don't act as if you're a match for him!"
"It's not nonsense. It's the truth!"
"It's all about the mind, and yours is weak!"
"No. It's all about the heart! Though, it's not like you would know anything about that, would you, Snape?"
"Why you arrogant, little - you will refer to me as either Professor or sir!"
"I won't. We're not at Hogwarts, and at the moment you are not my Professor. Until I return to Hogwarts, I don't have to call you by either name. In case you've missed it, I have no respect for you, so unless I have to, I will not be giving you the satisfaction of those titles. To be a professor, you actually have to teach."
"How dare you-"
"Quite easily, actually."
"Enough." Dumbledore's voice echoed through the room, silencing them both. "This meeting is dismissed." Harry could see that Dumbledore was less than pleased with their display. He felt slightly guilty, but he didn't regret it. Everyone got up and followed the headmaster out. Most of the Order was leaving for the evening, and the few who were staying behind for dinner left the room to see the others off.
All except for two.
They were still glaring at each other, unaware of everyone else's departure.
"I still can't believe I'm going to have to put up with you for another two years," Harry mumbled.
"You what?"
"Yup, that's right. I got an 'O' on my Potions O.W.L."
Snape looked as if he'd been sentenced to an eternity in hell. "You're lying!"
"Nope."
"You must have cheated somehow!"
"Nope. You're stuck with me, and there's nothing you can do about it."
"The judges must have gone soft on you! You're always getting special treatment because of who you are!"
"Sorry to disappoint you, but nope. Whether you believe it or not, I earned my 'O'. I didn't cheat and nobody favoured me because of my damn name. I did it all on my own!"
"Give me a break! You are so much like your father! Arrogant-"
"You've already said that."
"Cocky-"
"That means the same thing as arrogant."
"Annoying!"
"You know, with your descriptions, I'd have to say you're more like my father than I am!"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me quite clearly. You're always going on about how horrible my father was, and how much I'm just like him. You really need to start singing a new tune, by the way; that one became ancient in my first year. You're always saying how much of a bully he was, and I suppose I can see where you're coming from with that one. I can't say I envy you after what I saw in that Pensieve-"
"I told you NEVER to mention that!"
"But you've been so focused on how you thought my father acted that you haven't taken the time to look at yourself. Arrogant, cocky, annoying - oh, and let's not forget some of you past descriptions - bullying showoff who struts about the school as if he owns the place . . . You seem to have described yourself nicely. How does it feel to have turned into your most hated enemy?"
"I am nothing like your wretched father!"
"No? Well let's see . . . you seem to like to emphasise the fact that my father was an arrogant, bullying show-off when he was my age. As for you, you're an arrogant, bullying show-off, and you're how old?"
"I am no such thing!"
"Again, I'm going to have to correct you on that one. You've despised me since the moment you laid eyes on me when I hadn't even done anything to you! In the first class I'd ever had with you, right away, I was the one you picked on. Tell me, does this seem familiar to you? 'Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity.' How about this? I had been taking notes when suddenly you shouted, 'Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?' When I told you I didn't know, you just sneered at me and said, 'Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything.' " Snape's face was twisted in rage but Harry wasn't nearly done.
"Then let's not forget, sir, about how you continued to ask me 'Where would you look to find me a bezoar?', and you even gave me a trick question like 'What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?' You even accused me of not bothering to open a book before coming to Hogwarts, which I had by the way, but honestly, had you expected everyone to memorize our Potions books before we'd even had our first class? No, wait, how silly of me. You didn't expect everyone to memorize the book, you just expected me to. Otherwise, you would have called on Hermione who had obviously known the answers to your questions at the time.
"And then, when you finally stopped embarrassing me long enough to give us all the answers so you could look superior, you yelled at the whole class for not taking notes when the whole thing had started because I had been taking notes!
"Then when Neville messed up his potion, you actually accused me of not helping him so that I could make myself look better, and you took points away from me for it! Not only that, but in later classes when Hermione did try to help Neville, you took points off of her for it!
"You tell people to treat me like they treat others, but you're a hypocrite! You're just as bad as everyone else if not worse sometimes! Instead of being kinder to me, you're crueller! Do you know that when I saw that memory of yours, I actually felt badly for you? I could sympathise with you because I knew what it was like to be embarrassed like that since you do the same thing to me as my father did to you. The only difference is that I have to put up with it in every single class!
"Right from the beginning, you've loathed me for what my father did to you, but guess what . . . I'm not my father! My father is DEAD! Get that through you're thick skull!"
Snape was completely speechless, his eyes wide and, if Harry guessed correctly, somewhat fearful. They were both staring at each other, as if having a competition of wills. For the longest time, neither moved, but Snape finally turned from Harry's eyes and stormed out of the room in a huff. Harry had won. He'd finally told Snape off, and he hadn't even gotten in trouble for it; though, he suspected Snape would make his life even worse than before when he returned to Hogwarts.
Dinner was served shortly after the meeting's end. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting with Ginny, the twins, and Lupin enjoying Mrs. Weasley's delightful meal and talking about visiting the twin's joke shop later in the summer when a very loud bell rang through the house.
Mrs. Weasley ran from the room to answer the front door while Lupin left to quiet Mrs. Black, who had woken from the noise and started shouting as was her usual.
Harry went back to asking the twins about some of their new inventions, but stopped and turned toward the door when he noticed Ron stiffen beside him. Now, he knew why Ron had been so bothered all day - Percy. Harry'd forgotten that Percy had reconciled with the rest of the Weasley family. He figured that Percy had actually arrived the previous night and had been at work all day, since no one was surprised to see him there. Harry must have just missed seeing him the other night and earlier that morning by no longer than half an hour.
Percy made his way over to Harry while Ron seemed to become even more rigid than before. "Ron." Percy said, acknowledging his presence but not seeming to be on the friendliest of terms with his younger brother; though, Harry wondered if that wasn't more due to a lack of effort on Ron's part. "Hello, Potter. I hope you've been well," he said in a formal manner.
"Er, okay, I guess," Harry replied.
"Good to hear. Good to hear. I-I would like to - erm - apologise for my unnecessary behaviour from before. I do hope you can forgive me?" He seemed a bit tense while he spoke, and Harry had to give him some credit for being able to approach Harry like that. No wonder Percy had been in Gryffindor. He'd been brave enough to go against his own family and then was able to face them afterward and ask for forgiveness.
"Don't worry about it. It's fine. Everyone screws up once in a while, right?"
"Right. Well then, now that that's settled, I should probably see a few other people. We'll speak again, Po - I mean, Harry. For now, good night."
"Erm, sure. 'Night. Hey, Ron, are you okay?"
"Huh, oh yeah, fine. We're just still not getting along. It's no big deal, really. Truth be told, I think Mum's the only one who's actually happy to see him. Everyone else is just pretending for her sake." Ron didn't carry on any more, and Harry didn't push him to.
After dinner, most of the Order members had gone home and Harry was already about to head to bed himself when he remembered he'd wanted to ask Dumbledore something before he left.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Can we talk for a moment?"
"Of course." Dumbledore led the way to a secluded room away from the lingering guests.
"I was just wondering about the prophecy . . . Does everyone in the Order know about it?"
"Ah, yes. They know about it. I didn't think it fair for members of the Order to risk their lives without knowing what it was they were working so hard for to protect."
"Have they actually heard it?"
"No. Nobody besides me, Lily, and James have ever known the exact wording entirely, unless of course, James had decided to tell Sirius. You're the only other person that I know of who has heard the exact content. Not even Professor Trelawney knows. The Order members have a basic idea of what the prophecy says, but they have never been told the exact wording."
"Oh. I see. Sir, would it be okay if I told Hermione and Ron? You see I've kind of already told Hermione, and I want to tell Ron soon too."
"Harry, if you believe you can trust them, which I have no doubt you do, then you may do so, but do try to keep the amount of people you tell to a minimum. Also, make sure nobody else is listening in. As I've found for myself, being overheard can have the most disastrous results."
"Right. Will do, Professor." Harry turned to leave, but Dumbledore held him back.
"Before we part, I have something for you. I'm afraid I'll be busy for the next few weeks and will be unable to visit you on your birthday, so I'll give this to you now on the condition that you must promise me not to open it until your birthday." Harry looked on in shock as the professor extracted a large package from his robes and held it out for Harry to take. "I think it may come in handy later on."
"I promise! Thanks, sir!"
"Happy early birthday, Harry." And with that, Dumbledore left.
Harry went to place his newly acquired present away in his room and was followed by Ron as he made his way up the stairs.
"What's that you go there, Harry?"
"Present from Dumbledore."
Ron frowned. "How come he only gave one to you?"
"Is there anyone else's birthday coming up soon?"
"Oh." A slight pink tinge covered Ron's face. "Right."
~*~*~
The next few days seemed to pass much too slowly for Harry's taste. For once, he was excited about his upcoming birthday. If for nothing else, he at least wanted to know what Dumbledore had given him, and because of his incessant need for time to hurry, it, of course, did the exact opposite.
Mr. Weasley and Percy were always at work, being asked to put in extra hours at the Ministry as more chaos occurred. Percy was still by the Minister's side; however, he was now serving a new minister. Fudge had been immediately thrown out of office after the incident that had happened in the Department of Mysteries and was replaced by Pierre Bagnold, son of Millicent Bagnold. As for Mr. Weasley, he had been promoted to a much more demanding job, and not only had his original work doubled, but now he had to supervise new additions to his department as well.
Fred and George had also been gone during most of the week, their joke shop having flourished so much they'd had to hire others to help them keep up with all the business they were getting. The twins had promised to take Harry and the others for a tour of their shop when they finally were able to visit Diagon Alley to pick up their school supplies.
On Tuesday of the next week, Lupin had left early that morning, and Harry knew it was so he could go to wherever it was he went to transform during the full moon. He'd told Harry before he'd left that he was sorry for not being able to stick around for his birthday, but he'd make it up to Harry when he returned.
It was ten 'til midnight, and Harry was counting the seconds that ticked by on the clock in the drawing room, waiting with his present in hand until he could finally open it. The Weasleys and Hermione were sitting with him too, all waiting for the clock to strike twelve so they could give their presents to Harry. Mrs. Weasley had been nice enough to allow them all to stay up late as a "special birthday treat"; though, Harry suspected that it was more likely because she was just as curious as the others about Dumbledore's present.
The clock finally chimed (and spat out a few bolts in the process), signalling to Harry that he was allowed to open his present at last. Carefully, he tore the paper away to reveal a stone basin with rune carvings on the side. Inside there was a small amount of white mist.
"What is it Harry?" Ginny asked.
"It's a Pensieve!" It was smaller than the one Dumbledore had, but there was no mistaking what it was. "I wonder why there are memories already in it. . . ."
"Harry, you dropped a note." Ron handed him a letter with curly handwriting scrawled across it.
Harry,
As you've probably guessed, you are now the proud owner of a Pensieve. You've also probably noticed that there have been a few memories added already. I thought you might like to know a little more about your parents, and these are a few memories that I'm quite fond of.
In the coming school year, I would like to give you private lessons, personally. I will be teaching you a number of things, including how to use your new Pensieve.
I'll be in contact with you again soon to give you more details, but until then, have a wonderful birthday.
"Great!"
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, trying to look over his shoulder to read the note. He handed it to her and the others crowded around her to have a look too. "Wow. Dumbledore is going to be giving you private lessons! Oh, you'll have to tell us everything that happens!"
"Don't worry, Hermione; you and Ron will be the first ones to know."
Harry finally opened the rest of his presents once they'd all settled down again. He got candy from Ron, a new defence book from Hermione, new quidditch gloves from Ginny, a wand holster with extra slots from Mr. Weasley, and homemade chocolate brownies from Mrs. Weasley.
Fred and George gave him a bunch of items from the twin's joke shop that they said were so new they hadn't even released them to the public yet. Harry was a bit cautious after hearing that; he wasn't sure if he should be honoured or scared of possibly being a test subject. Harry looked in the box of assorted objects and found a wide range of colourful goodies, including Bogie Bombs (Drench your enemies with snot!), Talking Toilet Tabs (Make your toilet talk and sing! Lasts for twenty-four hours.), Tongue-Twisting Forks (Know someone who talks too much? Then give them one of these! They won't be able to talk for hours!), and something that looked like a bracelet called a Haunting Hand (Perfect to go with your Headless Hat!). Ron commented on using the Tongue-Twisting Fork on Hermione some time, getting a smack across the head for it.
Once Harry was done, Mrs. Weasley shuffled them all up to bed, saying they had a big day ahead of them and needed to get some sleep. Harry soon drifted off, looking forward to his first birthday with some of the only people he'd ever considered family.
~*~*~
A/N: Okay, here's how I'm going to do this story . . . I had a whole plot figured out for this story and the next for Harry's seventh year. Now that HBP is out, I've decided to mix the two plots together (for the most part) for this story, so then I'll be able to pick up mostly where JKR left off in HBP. I'd actually figured out most of what was going to be in book six (including the basic idea of how Voldemort stayed alive when Harry was one), so I won't be drifting too far from my original plotline (just enough to be able to pick up where book six left off when I write Harry's seventh year). Everything works out for me this way, and you guys get a more interesting story.
Anyway, thanks again to all of my reviewers and to my beta! I love you, Nati!
- Amie