Harry Potter and the Godric Parallax by lycanthropy

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 04/01/2005
Last Updated: 06/04/2005
Status: In Progress

This story takes place during the summer just prior to year Six. As it turns out, the ending
that I had originaly envisioned is still compatable with Book Six. The Book to which I am still
recovering from...




1. Mirror Mirror
----------------



**Disclaimer and a quick `Thank** **you****':** Harry Potter is the copyrighted
creation of one J.K. Rowling. I wish to thank her for allowing us `fans' to explore and expound
upon the wonderful world she has created for us… She truly is `The brightest witch of our
age.'

**Harry Potter: Year Six**

**---------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 1**

**Mirror Mirror**

He found it very difficult to sleep. Tossing and turning to the point that he was soaked through
from sweat. Nights had been this way for him ever since the incident at the Ministry of Magic. He
was flooded with images and feelings that he knew he was no shape to deal with. All he really knew
for certain was that the fates had always seemed to be against him. His life was always so hard and
unfair. He had long suspected, and now knew for certain, that it was destined to be this way. He
was incredibly frustrated and realized that sleep would not come until he cleared his mind. He sat
up on the edge of his bed and began to rub his temples in earnest.

“That is a funny thought.” He mused out loud, no trace of a smile on his face.

He couldn't quite believe it, but it seemed so long ago when that idiot of a Professor
pushed him beyond his means to master even the simplest forms of Occlumancy. He was having a very
difficult time of it. Since that fateful night at the Ministry he had been flooded with a wealth of
emotion… fear, frustration, anger, loss and… hatred… Ohhhh yes… Hatred like he had never felt
before. It had shaken him to the core.

*Exactly how did I get to this point?* He thought. *.* He lay back down onto his bed
and closed his eyes, focusing on the energies around him. *OK, relax and breathe. Concentrate on
the feeling of the air flowing in and out of your lungs**.* Energy began to permeate around
him. It seemed to gather to him and cocoon him to the point where he was completely relaxed and in
an almost hypnotic like state.

There it was again! He could feel it now rising from the depths of his very being. Soon the
images came to him from his past like an unforgivable curse, unblock-able and unrelenting in its
force. It hit him right in what was left of his heart and it fazed him if only for a second. Images
and sounds now began to come clearly to him…

There, in the middle of a sunlit room sat a crib. A baby boy of nineteen months with sparse
black hair was crying hysterically as if calling for help, begging to be picked up and held.
Begging for his mum or dad to come for him and comfort him, but no one came. He cried a little
while longer until sleep claimed him and the tears dried little white lines on his soft face. By
the time he was two he had learned to stop crying all together… He had learned that no one would
come…

A swirl of images and sounds again flooded his minds eye. Then... limping in the middle of a
hallway grasping his bleeding leg with both hands was a small boy. He couldn't have been more
than six years old and he wore clothes that obviously were meant for a larger child. He had messy
black hair and a pained expression on his face. He knew the instant the bigger boys friends had
knocked him down outside that he had seriously injured his leg.

He struggled to hold back the tears of pain as a tall slender woman with a slightly nasal voice
began yelling at him.

“What have you done to yourself now!?” she scolded. “Can't you stay out of trouble for five
minutes?”

“What has the little brat done to himself this time?” came a mans voice. “I am not spending
another pound on that boy's medical expense! Does he think we are made of money?!”

“But it wasn't my fault!” yelled the boy, “I was playing by myself when…”

“Don't you dare talk to me like that you little liar!” the woman spat, “You are lucky we
allow you to stay here at all…”

Another violent swirl of images and sounds… The same boy, now about eight, was walking amongst
the sneers and sniggers of several elementary school students. They routinely laughed at his messy
appearance, the over sized clothes and the school bag that had definitely seen better days, and now
the soles of his shoes were beginning to peel off and made clapping noises with every step. The
lunch break was over and he was doing his best to ignore the taunts as he hurried to make it back
to class before *the gang* saw him.

“Hey weirdo!” yelled a boy who was crisply dressed and easily stood a foot taller. “Going to do
any more maaagiiiiic today?” to the raucous cackling of his two friends which echoed in the student
hallways made of brick.

He had hoped that they would eventually tire of bullying him and move on to other things as this
same scene had occurred on a weekly basis since his schooling began. It seemed as though if it
weren't *this* group it would always be another. There seemed to be no shortage of people
who would treat him badly because he was different and in this instant he would be reminded of just
how so.

“Why are you in such a hurry freak?!” the leader spat as he quickly ran in front of him, his two
cronies positioning themselves behind him to cut off any means of escape.

“Didn't you like the mud bath we gave you last time? Just thought we'd help you look
better since your *parents* can't afford to dress you properly… oh, that's
*riiiight*, you don't *have* parents.” The bully sneered while again his friends
laughed.

“Look, just let me get back to class OK? Please… j-just leave me alone.” He begged.

“Nah, I think I'll just kick your arse a bit…” The bully said simply and promptly placed him
in a head-lock.

The cronies began to hoot and holler wildly. He was really starting to get worried. He knew no
help would come as it never did, and now he was starting to have trouble breathing. He was really
starting to panic, and he began struggling much to the bully's amusement until he suddenly and
instantly found himself in the principals' office standing on his desk.

“What the... how did I?” He began…

But he had no idea how he had suddenly found himself there and had little time to dwell as at
that same moment the Principal walked in. Upon seeing him dirtying all his important papers with
his shoes, gave him several whacks with a paddle and detention for a week.

More flashes of sights and sounds found the boy, now ten and still wearing clothes that were
three sizes too big, at the Zoo. He was always fascinated by animals and was feeling particularly
lucky to be visiting. He had never really seen them before, except for school books of course. He
knew that there were programs on the tele about them but he was never allowed to watch anything on
it.

At this moment he was leaning against the rail in front of the glass cages in the reptile house.
There was one animal that really caught his fancy and he was staring avidly at it. Every one else
he noticed would just stroll by, glance at it and then mumble *how boring* it was or that it
didn't *mov**e,* some even rapped on the glass before quickly walking away. But not
him, he thought snakes were brilliant, especially poisonous ones and this one in particular really
stood out to him. It was large, sleek, dark and beautiful and it pained him to see it caged and
gawked at. He truly felt that he could relate as he did not like captivity either and he rather
thought that this one really should be free. He had the funny inspiration of expressing this to the
snake, so he said:

“They **should** know what it's like to feel trapped-helpless, bothered day after day,
never leaving you alone, never allowing you to just be at peace…” and then much to his astonishment
the snake lifted its head and nodded as if to agree.

“You - you can understand me?” he whispered, shocked greater still to hear an answer.

“*Yessss*” replied the serpent.

Several things happened at once and he wasn't quite sure what happened in what order.
Suddenly the huge viper was swiftly slithering on the walkway as people began screaming in terror.
*How had he gotten out of his cage? Did* *I* *do that?* He wondered as he suddenly
found himself on the ground. No-one was paying him much attention and he was almost trampled but
the serpent aggressively began to hiss and snap at anyone who came too near.

Something even more surprising happened to the boy as he began rising. He suddenly stopped to
find that the giant snake had reared its head to look him straight in the eye. If a snake could
smile, this one was definitely doing it and for the first time in a great while, the boy grinned in
return.

Swirls of images and sounds faded once again into another time and place…A young man with untidy
black hair and piercing eyes sat deep in thought in his four poster bed as he loosened the tie of
his Hogwarts school uniform. He couldn't quite believe that the Chamber of Secrets had been
opened and he feared that even his closest friends suspected him. He had just recently discovered
that he was a parselmouth; he had no idea that it was quite a unique gift indeed. He was replaying
the conversation he had just had with the Headmaster. *Would they really close down the
school?* He knew he did NOT want to return to the home where the muggles constantly mistreated
him and acted as if he were a slave only tolerated to do their bidding. He had asked the Headmaster
before if he could remain at Hogwarts during the summer holidays but he had insisted that he return
home at the end of every school year.

Besides, ever since he had discovered the wizarding world it had become HIS world. How could he
leave it all behind? Moreover, there were quite a few witches and wizards who thought he had the
potential to become greater than the Dark Lord and even on day defeat him. But he was under the
strong impression, as was the great majority of the wizarding world, that it would be Dumbledore
himself to do it. Coming to a decision, he rose to leave the dormitory.

“I must solve this… there is no way I'm going back THERE sooner than I have to if there is
anything I can do about it!” He stated emphatically.

This image soon faded as the boy left the room… and was replaced with the recent image of
Dumbledore and the battle at the Ministry. *Dumbledore…* *the prophec**y…* Such an
incredible wave of absolute hatred coursed through his body so forcefully that he virtually flew
off the bed. He now stood in the middle of the poorly lit room as magic gathered and surrounded him
until it became so thick that it crackled with intensity like thick bolts of green-grey
electricity. He could feel himself becoming more and more powerful as the hatred swelled and flowed
through him, the magic reaching out and physically touching his surroundings so much so that the
bed that he was sleeping on and the night stand next to it disintegrated.

A satisfied grin stretched his pale face… and at that moment in a small bedroom several cities
away - the boy who lived awoke with a start.

A/N: I haven't written anything significant since 1989 so I'm a bit out of practice, but
I hope you will enjoy my version of the Harry Potter saga. I have tried to write this story
following a logical progression of the events that have occurred in the first five installments. So
naturally what I am writing is what I believe will take place in book six or seven to some extent
and I have done my best to keep all of the characters **IN** character. That being said, I write
in a style that is not pre-meditated, meaning that I throw the characters into a situation and then
let them work it out on their own. Maybe you'll see what I mean as this story progresses… I
will try to post a new chapter every other week or so.

On to explanations:


We know from the books that Tom Riddle was abandoned before he was born and he grew up in an
orphanage, thus the lack of love, money and proper fitting clothes. For those reasons alone he
would have been ostracized as Harry was at those same ages and notice that I never fully described
his care takers or bullies, they were meant to seem like the Dursley's.


I also imagine that he would have learned that he was a parselmouth at the zoo much like Harry
did. Where else would he have discovered that he could talk to snakes?


The `Dark Lord' reference is none other than Grindelwald, whom Dumbledore defeated in 1945,
so he would still have been alive and creating havoc in 1942 when Tom Riddle had opened the Chamber
of Secrets. Remember, by no means did I actually named the Headmaster of Hogwarts in Tom's
memory (It was Armando Dippet at that time) and I spoke of Dumbledore separately.


Tom learned Occlumency from *somebody* right? Why not a professor he didn't like
either?


I believe that Rowling has purposefully made Tom and Harry VERY similar because the key to how
these two turn out is *choice*. I think she has made it quite clear that it is the choices we
make and not our birth-rights that define who we are and will become. I tried to writing the first
chapter to illustrate that point, hopefully I succeeded.


To be continued…

5

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2. A Visitor in the Night
-------------------------



**Chapter** **2**

**A Visit****or** **in** **the** **Night**

*What was that all about?* Harry wondered as he rubbed the throbbing scar on his forehead.
He had a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he tried to recall the dream he just
had.

He sat up on the edge of his bed and attempted to grasp the fading images and emotions he had
felt just moments ago. As his eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight creeping in through his bedroom
window the pain in his scar lessened considerably, he wasn't sure it had awoken him at all.

He looked at the clock on his night stand and discovered it was quite early in the night. The
digital time had just changed to 2:35am. *Has it really been only a few days?* Harry thought
incredulously. It felt like it had been months. Sure it was better at the Dursley's now that
the threat of “strange people” showing up on their doorstep at any given moment was firmly planted
in their minds. He new for sure that they were more worried about what the neighbors would say than
anything else.

They pretty much left him alone now, no more demands to make their breakfasts or do yard work.
He wished they would have him do *something* though; he was starting to get a little stir
crazy with the events of the past month running through his head over and over again, in fact his
dreams were getting worse now that he had wasn't physically drained from chores to put him in
any kind of deep sleep like in the previous summers. He had even asked his Uncle Vernon if he could
wash his car simply to be doing anything at all. If Harry were in a better mood he would have
thought the expression on his Uncle's face hilarious, the veins would bulge out of his forehead
and his lips would turn an unnatural shade of blue. He would then absentmindedly pull small tufts
of hair out of his mustache while staring unfocused at the lighting fixture on the ceiling,
ignoring Harry until he felt uncomfortable enough to leave the living room and head back up stairs
to his room.

Every now and then when he spied Dudley it looked as if he wanted to say something meaningful,
but then he would get a look on his face that led Harry to believe that he would suddenly think
better of it… and Aunt Petunia avoided him all together. He had tried to question her on several
occasions about what had happened last year and why he has to stay with them every summer, but then
she would abruptly remember something she had forgotten to pick up at the grocery store and be gone
from the house for hours at a time.

Harry decided that he didn't want anymore nightmares and he was honestly afraid of yelling
anything out in his sleep as he had done in the past, so he got up and put his glasses on as he
turned on the lamp next to his bed.

There were unopened letters strewn haphazardly all over the top. He could see Ron's scribble
and Hermione's neat writing on most of them, there was even a letter from Gringotts Wizarding
Bank. The only letters to which he answered were from The Order as they were to check on him every
three days. They had written twice so far and were due to write again today. It was Tonks who had
written the first, and Kingsley the second. They had both said pretty much the same things. “How
are you doing?” and “Don't leave the house.” being the prevailing themes.

And each time he wrote the same response.

*I'm fine.*

*Harry*

He would then attach the return letter to the tawny owl that delivered it and then usher it away
as quickly as he could.

In truth Harry felt far from fine. He had a lot of time to think about the prophecy and what it
had meant. He quickly came to the realization that the only reason people cared for him was because
he was the supposed savior of the wizarding world; he was *the boy who lived* and nothing
more.

*No one cared that Sirius had died that night. No one cared that* *I* *had just
about gotten* *my* *friends killed*. He thought as he looked once again to the letters
his friends had written him.

Sometimes his thoughts were very clear on this but most of the time he just seemed muddled.

He knew that if Dumbledore had trusted him in the first place and told him about the Department
of Mysteries and what Voldemort wanted there, he would never have gone… *He kept everything from
me. He wouldn't tell me anything. Kept me locked up here and for what? I can't trust
him* *to tell me anything* *anymore…And now he's doing it again! I haven't heard
a thing about what's going on* *from him!*

Harry began to ball up his fists once more in aggravation as he thought again about the
prophecy. How on earth was he supposed to defeat someone as powerful as Voldemort?

He remembered watching the duel between him and Dumbledore. There was no way he could do one
hundredth of what those two did. He had no shot what so ever in surviving a confrontation.

He recalled what that old Charms witch said to Umbridge just before his O.W.L.s;

“... Dumbledore did things with his wand I had *never* seen before…”

Dumbledore was already incredibly powerful in his fifth year. His father and the other Marauders
were talented and potent enough to secretly become anamagi AND create on object as intricate as the
Marauders Map! Tom Riddle's friends were all ready conceding that he was going to be a “Dark
Lord” and started calling him Voldemort.

“And what can I do? At their same age…I can… I can… conjure a Patronus…” Harry whispered
dejectedly.

He couldn't help but to laugh softly at himself.

“Yeah, *that'll* kill him.”

He couldn't believe that he had the *audacity* to secretly teach Dumbledore's Army
last year. He couldn't believe how incredibly brash and stupid he was to think he could protect
and lead his friends into the Ministry to fight Voldemort.

He remembered the frightened look on Hermione's face when he wanted to shake her violently
as they had argued about whether the Ministry was a trap or not. She had tried desperately to force
some sense into him but he wouldn't listen. He was convinced his visions were real. She pleaded
with him to see how impossible they really were.

How wrong he was - how right she was, he should have listened to her reasoning. He should have
been less arrogant. But she followed him anyway; knowing he was wrong, knowing it was a trap…
Dolohov's curse could have killed her… it would have been his fault - just as Sirius' death
was his fault.

*Why did she do that?* *Why did she have to go? And h**ow many poti**ons did
Madam Pomphrey give her* *anyway**…**Ten?*

Harry felt a sudden pang in his heart when he realized that he had now made targets of his
friends - and for the first time since Sirius' death Harry began to sob uncontrollably. He
brought his hands to his face to completely cover his feelings of shame and deaden the noise he was
starting to make. He did not want to wake his relatives; he didn't want then to see him in such
an embarrassing state.

All of them; Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna were now marked for death. He knew Voldemort
would kill them simply because they were associated with him and it would be **HIS** fault,
Harry's fault. He couldn't have it. They didn't deserve the same fate as he.

He understood from the prophecy that he was the only one who could kill Voldemort anyway, not
even Dumbledore could do it. And that meant that in order to remove the threat from his friends he
would have to be proactive, he would begin looking for Voldemort. He wasn't going to just sit
and wait anymore while everyone else did the fighting for him.

*I will right what I have done. I will murder or be murdered. I will learn how to destroy*
*you… Do you hear me**?* Harry clamped his eyes shut and slapped the palm of his hand on
his scar. *I'll be looking for you... I'll end this on* **my** *terms,*
**not** *yours* …

After a few silent moments, Harry wiped the tears from his face and looked again at the unopened
letters on his desk. He felt another jolt to his heart as he realized he was going to miss his two
best friends most of all. All at once he started to have a fit of silent giggles.

“I'm… going… t-to… be… k-killed…I'm…g-going…to…d-die…” Harry was having a difficult time
trying to maintain control from laughing out loud hysterically. He had such a crazed look on his
face; he was quite worried that he was starting to lose his mind. There was simply no way he was
powerful enough to defeat Voldemort… he felt as if he were resigning himself to death… He just
hoped he could take *him* with him.

Harry's brutal fit of hysteria ended just as abruptly as it appeared. He was overcome by a
sudden rush of calmness…Peace.

“After all,” Harry breathed “I have nothing to live for really - no parents, no home,
nothing…but…Hedwig!”

Harry glanced up at Hedwig's empty cage and frowned.

“Where is she?” he asked with a confused expression.

Now that he thought about it he hadn't seen her in a while. He recalled that three days ago
she had delivered a letter from Hermione and began pecking at him in such a manner that clearly
indicated that she had wanted him to read it and respond. He refused and told her that he
wouldn't be writing to anyone this summer and then had simply told her to “go away”. She seamed
to study him for a long moment and then he remembered her hoot indignantly as she soared back into
the night.

His gaze turned back to the unopened letters on his desk and he suppressed the guilty feeling
creeping into his stomach. They were probably worried about him since he hadn't bothered to
answer. But what was he supposed to say? He knew what was written in those bits of parchment; he
knew he didn't want to hear about Sirius in the past tense and how he shouldn't blame
himself…

*What did they know? My parents, Cedric, Sirius - ALL OF THEM MY FAULT!! Just because*
*I* **exist***!!*

Harry had never felt so angry in his entire life. He stood in front of his desk clenching his
fists at his sides again but this time so tightly that his fingernails were cutting into the palms
of his hands and he could feel little droplets of blood falling from them onto the carpet.

He tried once more to calm himself and gently closed his eyes. He noticed immediately how he
could feel the anger in his heart - as if the emotion itself was a living entity coursing through
his veins, embracing him. He could not recall ever feeling this sensation before so he concentrated
harder on it.

He tried to harness the anger feeding into his heart, it made him feel more powerful than he had
ever felt in his entire life. He felt it grow stronger with every pulse. And as he focused, the
beating in his ears grew louder, the louder the beat - the more powerful the sensations became. It
was a strange and welcome feeling - every cell in his body brimmed with a physical type of magic.
Every hair on his body stood on end - almost like static electricity; surrounding and caressing,
making its presence known - tangible…

Harry's concentration broke suddenly and he jumped backward in surprise as he felt a brief
flash of intense heat.

He gaped at the pile of dust that stood where his desk should have been, the unopened letters
untouched.

*What the**…?* He started to wonder.

And for the second time that night he jumped in surprise as a very familiar voice startled him
from behind.

“Now *that's* something I wasn't able to do until I was twenty four!”

Harry quickly turned around to find the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's
Headmaster looking at him with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

5

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3. The Unexpected
-----------------



Chapter 3

The Unexpected

Harry wouldn't admit it, but he was glad to see that Dumbledore looked much better than when
he last saw him back in the professor's office. He was resplendent in his purple and green
robes, standing tall and straight as he waved his wand around the room casting a silencing charm so
they wouldn't wake the Dursley's. He looked much younger and fuller of life, much like he
had before he had revealed the prophecy - though his eyes still betrayed a hint of sadness.

“It appears as if we may need to begin harnessing this new found talent of yours sooner than I
had anticipated.” Dumbledore stated sounding quite pleased.

“P-Professor..?” Harry stuttered in bewilderment. He knew he was deep trouble now. How was he
going to explain this? He remembered what happened last year when he performed underage magic, at
least then he was defending himself… but now?

Dumbledore quickly read the expression on Harry's face and answered with a bemused
smile;

“The Ministry has no way of tracing wand less magic Harry. Their methods are directly linked
with their usage and incantations.”

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and said quickly,

“But what about just before third year - with blowing up my Aunt and all? The ministry knew what
happened then!”

“How could anyone NOT notice a rather bloated woman cursing at your Uncle and floating some
hundred feet above your neighborhood?” Dumbledore answered with a continued smile.

“Well then what are you doing here?” Harry snapped sounding harsher than he intended.

Dumbledore regarded him for a moment slightly taken aback, searching Harry's emerald green
eyes before replying seriously;

“I didn't wish to intrude upon your time of grieving Harry, but I dare say that there are
several matters I wish to discuss with you. One of which I'm afraid I must insist upon as it
involves life or death.”

Harry looked back at Dumbledore quite shocked and at a loss for words and started once again to
grow angry. *He's not even going to ask how I'm doi**ng! I can't believe this! I
haven't heard a thing from him since I've been locked up here* *and he just walks in
here expecting me to do his bidding! Life or death!! EVERYTHING involving me is about life or
death! Does he think I'm stupid? What does…?*

“I'm quite sorry to interrupt your thoughts Harry,” though Dumbledore didn't sound sorry
at all “I had not intended for this to be the first topic of conversation but… It is quite apparent
that we must continue your Occlumency lessons. If I can read your thoughts this easily Voldemort
most certainly can, and he will continue to invade your psyche to seek the information he so
desires.”

“Y-You just read my mind?” Harry asked stunned. “B-But you didn't use your wand or say
Legilimens or anything!”

“That is precisely the point Harry. You are not in control of your thoughts. You are projecting
them without being consciously aware of doing so, and thus become an easy target for anyone who
wishes to gain access to information to which you would otherwise choose to remain hidden.
*That* is why you must continue with your Occlumency lessons.” Dumbledore patiently
explained.

“I'm **not** doing anything with Snape! He hated Sirius! He's probably happy Sirius
is dead!” Harry spat, taking a step away.

“*Professor* Snape, Harry.”

Harry started to reply derisively to this but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him.

“As I promised you those many nights ago, I will explain as much as I can. Please hear me
out.”

When Harry didn't respond, Dumbledore continued.

“Initially I was only concerned of possession by Voldemort; I'll admit that I was worried
that you would suffer his influences to the point that you would have to be destroyed. I merely
wanted you to be able to block him out; I did not want him to be able to seduce you into the
confusion between what he desires and what you desire, hence the visions of the Ministry and the
Department of Mysteries. I was a fool on two counts; first I should have told you about the
prophecy and where it was kept. I believe that if you had been properly armed with this information
Voldemort would have had little success in luring you to the Ministry. Harry…I am to blame for this
blatant oversight.”

Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath. He removed his half-moon spectacles, lowered his head
and rubbed his temples before putting them back on. He looked searchingly into Harry's eyes
once more before he continued;

“Secondly I was also a fool to believe that you could have learned Occlumency properly from
Professor Snape. But you see I had no alternative at the time because I couldn't teach you
myself for reasons you now already know. Here again I should have explained this to you last year
so you would understand- and again - I didn't.”

Dumbledore sighed heavily.

“Errors of an old man Harry… I realize now that you should have been taught by someone of whom
you implicitly trusted.”

There was a moment of silence as Harry couldn't bring himself to believe what Dumbledore was
telling him. But, he was desperate for more information so he simply whispered;

“Go on.”

“Now however, it is imperative that you learn to control the projection and intrusion of your
thoughts. You are a special case because your scar directly links you to Voldemort. You know the
entire prophecy; we must not allow the contents to be discovered by him. Should he learn that you
have the knowledge he seeks, I'm afraid he will stop at nothing to obtain it. However, I do
think that we have some time before we need to worry ourselves as he assuredly believes that it was
destroyed that night during the battle.”

“That being said - I am right in assuming that I must work to regain your full trust?”

More a statement than question, Harry simply nodded.

“I thought as much. That is why I have already taken the liberty to train Ms. Granger... or
rather she *demanded* that I train her, so that she could pass the lessons on to you. Do try
to work with her on this Harry. If I interpret her letters of chastisement correctly,” Dumbledore
chuckled briefly at that, “she has your best interests at heart… all your friends do.”

“Don't shut them out Harry; they can be a great source of comfort if you let them.” He added
seriously.

Harry maintained a look of stoicism but he secretly marveled at the fact that Hermione would
*dare* scold the Headmaster. He found himself wondering what exactly it was she could be mad
at him for… and what about Ron? Surely he needed to be trained as well, Voldemort would definitely
try to get information from him too - it was common knowledge that he was his other best friend.
His musings were interrupted once more when he felt Dumbledore's concerned gaze.

Harry rapidly became self-conscious of the fact that he hadn't showered, eaten, changed or
slept properly in days and he looked every bit the worse for it. His appearance was in sharp
contrast to his room because he hadn't bothered to unpack since his return and thus, with the
exception of the desk that was now dust and the unmade bed, his room remained uncluttered and
relatively clean.

He quickly brushed the uneasy feeling in his stomach away reasoning that it was his right to
mourn in anyway he saw fit. He returned a defiant glare but Dumbledore just seemed pensive and
spoke again.

“Allow me to allay your concern for Mr. Weasely, If I am not much mistaken; he is completely
immune to Legilimency.”

Harry was astonished to say the least; he left his mouth open after muttering a bewildered,

“What? But how…?”

“It seams that the attack on him by `the brain' at the Ministry forced his mind to regroup
into itself, to protect its `self', as it were, against the foreign thoughts and emotions of
the other.” He answered gravely.

“So yes, he still has some emotional scarring but he will heal in time and because of this
singular event his mind now as the innate capability to completely shield itself against any
outside attack.”

Harry couldn't look at Dumbledore anymore and dropped his gaze to the floor. The troubled
feeling in his stomach returned when he realized that he had forgotten all about Ron's injury.
He once more became so guilt stricken for almost getting his friends killed that his knees shook
and he worried that he might collapse. He quickly sat hunched over onto the edge of his bed, buried
his head in his hands and let out a growl of frustration before he took another ragged breath and
exhaled slowly.

“So you've come here tonight to remind me of how stupid I was to drag my friends into a
trap.” Harry bluntly alleged.

Dumbledore let out a sigh and broke his gaze from Harry. He waved his wand around and conjured a
plush chair. As he sat he returned his stare to the boy who had become a broken young man and it
pained him greatly. He hoped it wasn't too late for save Harry from himself.

“Harry… your friends made a choice. Would you have allowed any one of them to go into a
potentially dangerous situation without following?”

Harry didn't want to talk about it anymore. He knew Dumbledore would just twist the
truth…somehow make him less to blame…

Harry stared intently at the blood droplets that were now black on the carpet floor and his
shoulders drooped a little more in a sense of hopelessness. The cuts in his palm stung and he
derived a sense of satisfaction from the pain. He felt it was the least of what he deserved.

He looked back up at Dumbledore and asked without expression,

“What else? You said that there was a matter of life or death?”

The Headmaster gave him a look of resignation and sighed once more not wanting to push the issue
of the night at the Ministry.

“I see that you have not yet opened the letter from Gringotts. Perhaps you should do so now.
What I'm about to ask of you wouldn't make sense otherwise.” Dumbledore stated
matter-of-factly as he nodded towards the pile of unopened letters on the floor.

*What did Gringotts have to do with life or death?* Harry wondered as he bent and picked up
the shiny blue and gold wrapped envelope. It was addressed:

**Mr.** **Harry Potter**

**Smallest Bedroom, Second floor**

**Number 4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging, Surrey**

Harry turned the envelope around and broke the Gringotts wax seal then pulled out and unfolded
the crisp brownish parchment. A sudden tingling sensation overcame his hands and just as quickly
disappeared.

The parchment was blank. Harry was going to question this when words gradually appeared:

**Identity verification complete…**

**Now decoding…**

*Well* *that explained the weird feeling in my hands**. I've never gotten a
letter from* *Gringotts* *before. I suppose they all come that way?* He wondered.

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**We regret to inform you during your time of loss that your presence is required in the
Department of Possessions****,** **as mandated by law and the will of Sirius Black,**
**to** **finalize the transference here****in named:**

**Number 12 Grimmauld Place**

**Kings Cross, London**

**Contents therein**

**Black Family Vault #711**

**You have already been authorized access to said items. Please come in at your earliest
convenience. Officer Glakkmer will be happy to assist you with the b****inding process and any
other needs you may have.**

**Signed,**

**Horad Wellsheild**

**President- Gringotts Council**

Harry was astounded! He hadn't expected this at all. He re-read the letter in his shaking
hands just to be sure of what it said. Sirius had left him everything! But he didn't want any
of it… he only wanted his God-father back. He continued to sit and stared unblinking at the letter,
no longer focused on it. He didn't know how to react or what to say. He just felt numb.

“Harry?” Dumbledore asked uncertainly.

“Yes Professor?” Harry slowly replied as he returned his gaze to Dumbledore.

“Your house has sealed itself and is waiting for its master. It won't allow anyone in
without your permission and regretfully it can't be given here. You must physically enter the
house and let your wishes be known.”

“B-but I don't want the house! I don't ever want to go back there!” Harry sputtered.

“There's an old friend of yours still in that house that needs you Harry. If he's not
seen soon I'm afraid he will die.”

Harry rose quickly of the bed and stood yelling at Dumbledore once more.

“Kreacher's **not** my friend! He betrayed Sirius! He betrayed us all! Let him die!
Better yet I'll kill him myself!”

When the Headmaster tried to speak Harry became so furious that he turned his back to him and
faced the nightstand.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing! How could Dumbledore ever expect him to go back to
Grimmauld Place, let alone save that wretched creature!

Dumbledore rose from his seat and tried to put a consoling hand on Harry's shoulder, but he
pulled away as if Dumbledore's touch would have burned him.

The Headmaster lowered his hand in resignation and returned to his seat.

“Not Kreacher Harry - Buckbeak.”

Harry's defiant stance relaxed in confusion.

“…Buckbeak?”

“As I've said, the house has not let any of us in since `the night' at the Ministry. I
have attempted on multiple occasions to gain access for the sole purpose of attending to him but I
have yet to be successful. The house is quite ancient and powerful in its defenses. Many wards and
protections have been placed on it through the times. That's one of the reasons we had chosen
it as the Orders' headquarters last year. I assure you that I had no intention of asking you to
return to it so soon, but under the circumstances… I know the house will harbor many ill memories,
but your friend needs your saving once more.”

Harry noticed that Dumbledore had avoided saying `Sirius' death' and instead said `the
night', deep down he was grateful for it. It showed that though the Headmaster may not
understand Harry's feelings, at least he was mindful of them. He turned to face Dumbledore.

“What am I to do?” Harry asked determinedly.

“Since I see that you are already dressed…” Harry shifted uncomfortably as Dumbledore gave him
another concerned look.

“Grab your invisibility cloak and your wand - for safety.”

Harry was slightly surprised to feel somewhat excited. *I'm finally doing*
**something**, he thought as he slid his wand out from underneath his pillow and shoved it
unceremoniously into the waistband of his jeans.

He quickly opened his school trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak. He only paused once
when he saw the tied mess of Uncle Vernon's old sock in the left hand corner. He remembered
breaking the mirror Sirius had given him and placing the pieces into it. He suppressed another
twinge of guilt and quickly closed the lid. He threw the cloak around his shoulders as the
Headmaster stood and made his chair disappear.

Dumbledore then pulled an old box of *Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans* out of one of
his robe pockets, pointed his wand directly at it and whispered *`Portus'.* The box glowed
blue then shook briefly, Harry recognized the Portkey spell.

Dumbledore returned his wand to his robe pocket and held the box up for Harry to reach it.

“Cover yourself completely and touch the corner of the box when you're ready Harry. Alastor,
Nymphadora and Remus should have already secured the area and will meet us there.”

Dumbledore was rather surprised when Harry walked up to him; he now stood eye to eye with the
old Professor. He gave a slight grin as he fondly recalled just how young and wide-eyed Harry once
seemed. *He's looking more and more like his Father…**Time passes too quickly for the
old* he mused.

Harry made sure his invisibility cloak was wrapped around properly and touched the proffered
corner of the box-made Portkey. He felt the all too familiar tug at his navel as the room began to
swirl violently away.

8

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4. The New and Most Noble Manor of Potter
-----------------------------------------



**Chapter 4**

**The New and Most Noble** **Manor** **of Potter**

Harry felt himself come to an abrupt stop on the front lawn of Number 12 Grimmauld Place and
nearly fell forward on to his face before he caught himself.

“I'm never going to get used to that.” Harry mumbled bitterly.

Dumbledore paused and took a moment to look around.

“It's OK Harry, you can remove the cloak if you like, the area is clear.”

Harry uncovered his head and started to unclasp his cloak but stopped when he felt a tingling
sensation and the hair on his neck rise. It was a very peculiar impression that he vaguely recalled
having once before during his fourth year. It caused him to instinctively draw his wand and take in
as much detail as he could of his surroundings.

Night was everywhere. The streetlamps were out and the only visible light emanated from the
stars in the sky.

Dumbledore began to stroll purposefully towards the front door with Harry in step behind him.
The sensation of unease didn't leave Harry and he felt a strong urge to turn around and face
the street.

He noticed an older woman in dark grey robes walking swiftly towards them. Harry thought she
looked very much like Professor McGonagall but he felt sure that she wasn't. Dumbledore
didn't seem to pay attention to her at all. She was only a few feet away from them when Harry
noticed that the woman had her wand out. She stopped abruptly just a few feet away when Harry
pointed his directly at her.

“Wotcher Harry! What happened to the rest of ya? Did you finally blow your buttocks off?” The
Professor look-a-like questioned with a wink and a smirk.

“Tonks…” he was just about reply when he observed a slight shimmering of pearl like colors in
the shape of a person coming towards them a few feet to the right side of her. Harry then moved his
wand from Tonks to the lights.

The lights also immediately stopped their forward motion. He stared intently at the dim
sparkling lights and was astonished to see that they were shaped just like a cloak. At the top he
saw a tighter ball of light emanating where a persons left eye should be and swore he could also
see a wide very light bluish beam coming from the `eye' of light. The beam appeared to have
focused itself onto Harry.

“Very good boy! You are getting stronger after all - I was afraid you'd be a bit… well…
Obviously Dumbledore was right.” The cloak of light stated gruffly in slight surprise.

“Professor Moody?” Harry wondered what on earth the old Auror had done to himself to end up in
such a state.

“Wow Harry, I didn't know you could see through invisibility cloaks! I'm impressed!” The
old woman - Tonks exclaimed with enthusiasm.

Harry was dumbfounded. He didn't know he could either…

“Yeah, he's getting mighty strong alright but he's still an idiot.” The still shimmering
Moody stated matter-of-factly.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't do much teachin'?”

“Don't mind the old man there Harry, he's just embarrassed he got caught with his pants
down. Constant Vigilance eh?” kidded an amused Tonks.

“Don't remind me - my damn eyeball still sticks every now and then, just hasn't been the
same since.” Moody complained as he removed his cloak.

Harry was surprised to see that Moody's cloak still shimmered with opalescent colored lights
as it draped over his arm and his magical eye still glowed with its blue beam and wondered why he
hadn't seen it before.

“Good to see you alive and well boy.”

Moody stepped forward and Harry shook his gnarled hand. He looked pretty much the same as Harry
remembered; grizzled hair, chunks missing from his nose, beady right eye and a clawed wooden leg
that thumped with every other step as he strolled to the front door and began whispering to
Dumbledore in earnest.

“Right, Mr. Cheerful himself… It is good to see you again Harry.”

Tonks turned back into her bright pink spiky haired self and gave Harry a quick hug. She then
pulled away and looked directly at him with a hint of concern.

Harry averted his eyes feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny and removed the rest of his
cloak. She was just about to say something more until he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to
find a very ragged looking Lupin with a small smile.

“Hello Harry, I see you look about as good as I feel.”

Harry hoped he didn't look **that** bad, Lupin looked terrible! He had large dark circles
under his eyes; his hair was a mess and if he appeared older before, then now he would be
considered ancient. He was obviously having just as hard a time as Harry was with Sirius'
death.

*`**Of course, he's the last of the three friends… the last* **true**
*Marauder…**'* Harry didn't know what to say. It hurt him to see Lupin in such a
state.

“Come on Harry, let's go inside.”

Lupin let go of Harry's shoulder and closed the distance to the large front doors as Harry
and Tonks followed.

Moody and Dumbledore had apparently finished whatever discussion they were having when they
arrived.

“Just turn the handle and step inside if you please Harry.” Dumbledore stated as he and Moody
stepped out of the way.

Harry braced himself, not knowing what to expect, and grasped the serpentine handle. He felt
nothing out of the ordinary so he turned the knob and crossed the threshold, stepping into what was
total darkness. Once he fully entered his new house however, the torch lamps that lined the walls
and the hanging chandelier came immediately to life.

The portrait of Mrs. Black was still covered by shabby drapes and the entrance remained as
gloomy as ever.

“May we enter?” asked Dumbledore.

Harry turned to see that everyone else was still outside on the doorstep.

“Oh… yes, err… of course come in.”

Harry stepped further into the entryway and made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Dumbledore, Moody, Lupin and Tonks walked into the main entrance of the home with Tonks
whispering with a wink;

“What a gentleman!”

Harry was about to ask what he should do next when Dumbledore spoke softly;

“Not here Harry, we'll talk in the kitchen.”

They passed the portrait and the troll legged umbrella stand and followed the steps down to the
main kitchen, which smelled dank and musty. The lamps were already on so they all took seats around
the large rectangular table.

Dumbledore gave his wand a few waves and several mugs full of steaming tea and hot chocolate
appeared on the middle of the table.

“Help yourselves please.”

Every one with the exception of Harry grabbed a cup. He had a strong feeling of unease in the
pit of his stomach as he recalled quite vividly the fight Sirius had with Snape in this very room.
Harry shook his head in an attempt to empty it.

Dumbledore next conjured a sack whose contents smelled suspiciously of raw meat, and seeing that
Harry had chosen not to get anything to drink, set it in front of him. He then cleared his throat
and spoke after he had everyone's attention.

“Harry, I would ask that you return to us here once you have seen to Buckbeak. We can discuss
our various courses of action and our plans without hindrance then.”

Harry suspected that they also wanted to talk about him amongst themselves. He was in half a
mind not to give them the satisfaction, but the thought of a starving Buckbeak made him take the
sack and silently rise. Once he had gotten to the kitchen door he paused and turned.

“What about Kreacher? If I see him I **will** kill him.” Harry stated quite matter-of-factly,
looking directly at Dumbledore.

Moody's real eye narrowed as his magical eye swiveled towards Dumbledore, Lupin gave a
slight shiver but did not look up from his mug and Tonks gasped.

“Kreacher is no longer here Harry.” Dumbledore answered - his face an unreadable mask.

“As this is now your house, he is no longer bound to it. I'm afraid he now serves Narcissa
Malfoy and her family.”

Harry nodded and left the kitchen closing the door behind him. He turned and walked up the
stairs past the second floor landing where the heads of the previous house-elves resided and past a
couple of half-closed doors that were once his and Ron's and Hermione's and
Ginny's.

He passed a couple more doors before reaching the old bedroom near the end of the hall that once
was Mrs. Black's. He grabbed the handle and prepared for the worst as he opened the bedroom
door and entered.

Harry quickly raised the crook of his arm and covered his nose to stop the assault of stench
that had struck him. He looked around the room to find droppings on one side and the skeletal
remains of rats and ferrets strewn all over the hay covered floor.

Buckbeak gave a loud squawk of greeting and stood up as Harry approached.

“Sorry it took me so long to see you boy, I bet you're starved.” He quietly said as he
gently stroked the side of the large half-eagle half-horse like creature.

Buckbeak was clearly in need of companionship. Even in the dim light, Harry could see patches of
fur and feathers missing and he definitely looked a lot thinner and in need of exercise.

“Hermione would go spare if she saw you like this. Thank goodness she's not here.” Harry
muttered absent-mindedly as he opened the bag of food and began dropping the large chunks of meat
onto the floor.

He was relieved to see Buckbeak eating in earnest and it brought a small smile to his face to
see his friend enjoying his meal.

“Let's get some of these windows open shall we?”

After opening several windows, Harry gave Buckbeak a quick pat and another promise to tidy up
the room upon his return and left.

Harry quietly closed the door behind him and chanced a look to his right towards the end of the
hallway where Sirius' bedroom once was and gave a start of surprise. The door stood slightly
ajar and he could see a warm flickering glow emanating within.

“Sirius?” Harry whispered, not daring to believe his eyes.

He felt certain that the light was not there before but he was preoccupied when he first got up
to the second floor. He slowly crept to the entrance of the bedroom and pushed the door fully open.
What he saw gave him another surprise.

The first thing Harry noticed was the mixed scent of freshly laundered clothes and paint. He
took another deep breath just to be sure and tried to take everything in at once. The room was huge
and **completely** different than what he'd seen of the rest of the house so far.

The wooden floor looked polished and clean, the walls were Gryffindor red with golden accents-
just as all the furniture appeared to be, and the glow came from the large roaring fire place to
the right of the entrance.

In front of the fire sat an oval coffee table and in front of that sat a twin sofa. To the right
and up against the wall was a hefty bookcase full of both old and new books. Up against the back
wall and in between two night stands lay a King sized four-poster with a chest larger than the
coffee table at the foot.

To his left sat another open door which led to a bathroom. In it contained a Roman bathtub, a
separate shower, toilet and two sinks. There were brightly colored dials everywhere and it reminded
Harry of the prefects' bathroom back at Hogwarts.

Before he could take in the rest of the room he heard a tired mans voice calling to him from the
bedroom entrance.

“I see that you've found Sirius' surprise.” Lupin said standing the doorway with his
hands in his pockets.

“What do you mean?” responded Harry puzzled, turning to face Lupin from across the room.

“Look about you Harry. He made this room for you, he promised you a home. He didn't want you
to live in the same dreary house he had so he decided to fix the place up a bit and wanted to start
with your room first. He had hoped to finish the rest of the rooms for your friends by the summer
but…” he trailed off looking towards the fire.

“He-he did this for me?” Harry asked - gazing around stunned that Sirius had gone through so
much trouble for him.

“Well, I helped a little, but it was his idea to brighten the place up,” Lupin paused for a
second, “and after hearing about your room at your relatives, he wanted you to have the biggest
room in the house with the nicest things he could find. He wanted to make sure you'd
**want** to stay here.”

“I-I don't know what to say…” Harry stammered.

“Sirius loved you Harry. I knew him a lot longer than you. We were friends and brothers. I know
he went the way he wanted to. What I don't know is how much longer he could have stayed trapped
in this house regardless of what he was doing to improve it.”

“He died because of me.” Harry whispered, dropping his head as he sat on the edge of the
bed.

Lupin sat next to Harry and they sat in silence for a minute before Lupin spoke again, this time
in intensely and his voice shook of emotion;

“Listen to me Harry, if there is one thing I've learned in life-then it's to live. Not
breathing, eating and sleeping, but truly **living**. So many people go about their daily lives
following one routine or another, not really paying attention to those around them and taking all
their friends and family for granted- as if they'd live forever. That's not living Harry.
Sirius knew how to live. He appreciated every single moment he got to be with you, his best
friends' son, and he relished and looked forward to it because he knew time was short. It
always was when Voldemort was around. You'd be talking to your best mate one day and in the
next the dark mark would appear above their house, and that's it Harry. All you ever had was
the time you got to spend with them and then it's gone and you can never get it back.”

Lupin paused once more and gripped Harry shoulder, though Harry refused to meet his eyes, and
then continued;

“Sirius learned this lesson almost fifteen years ago and it nearly destroyed him. I know that he
wouldn't want you to suffer the same way he did. He would want you to only remember the best
about him and the times you got to spend together. The fact that you knew he was innocent and
accepted him as your God-father made him the happiest person in the world Harry. Don't ever
forget that.”

Lupin took a loud breathe and sighed.

“He'd want you to **live** Harry, not just exist, but live. Take his lesson and cherish
those around you because you just don't know…”

Harry sat motionless deep in thought. It made some sense he guessed, but the hole left in his
heart by his God-fathers death remained as large as it ever did. It was still his fault he knew,
and that didn't make him feel any better.

*`Live? How can I possibly live when Sirius is dead?'* Harry tried desperately to
suppress the well of guilt from growing in his chest and, while continuing to stare at the floor,
forced himself to say out loud;

“Thanks, I'll try.”

“I'll do my best to be here for you Harry… if you need me.”

And with that, Lupin released his shoulder and walked out of the room; leaving Harry to sit and
ponder what had just been said.

A/N: I wish to thank you all for taking the time to write such wonderful reviews! I truly enjoy
reading them and am encouraged by them to continue.

I would like to also apologize for any errors in grammar and spelling, I have no beta and I am
writing as fast as my little free time will allow.

7

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5. An Elf, a Coat and a Cat
---------------------------

**Chapter 5**

**An Elf, a Coat and a Cat**

Harry was unsure of how long he had sat alone with his thoughts, but however long it was, he
felt sure it was enough. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his
unruly hair several times before finally getting up and heading out of his new room.

*‘Maybe I’ll finally get to leave the Dursley’s.’* Harry mused as he walked down the hall.
*‘I can just imagine the look on Uncle Vernon’s face when I tell him I’ve got a house of my
own…’*

A sudden banging noise from within one of the rooms to his right startled Harry out of his
reprieve. He remained still until he heard more noises from behind one of the closed doors and
discovered that they were coming from within the room that Hermione and Ginny had used during their
visits the past year.

He crept as silently as he could and placed one ear on the door. It sounded as if someone were
sweeping the floor and moving furniture around.

*‘That’s odd.’* Harry thought as he moved his ear away and cautiously pushed the door open
peering inside.

It seemed to Harry that the night would be full of surprises and he should definitely get used
to seeing them before long, but to say he was taken back would be an understatement.

Standing in the middle of the medium sized room with his back to Harry and waving long fingers
about the air as if conducting an orchestra was a house-elf. In between long pointed ears he wore
several small hats perched upon each other atop his head. On his feet - one black sock with orange
pumpkins and white ghosts traveling up and down its length and one dirty grayish looking thing that
was clearly too large for the elf as it had fallen to a skinny ankle. And in place of a Hogwarts
uniform he wore what appeared to be a bright velvety crimson colored pillow case with gold trim
that matched the ones in Harry’s new bedroom.

The house-elf had obviously sensed a presence because he quickly turned around, shrieked and ran
forward to hug the lower half of Harry’s body.

“Master-friend Harry Potter sir!” Dobby exclaimed whilst looking up with overly large eyes.

He then quickly let Harry go and pointed one long finger upwards, waving it back and forth as he
placed his other hand firmly on his hip much - like a mother scolding her child would, “You is not
to be in this room till Dobby has finished with it!”

“But Dobby… what are you doing here?” Harry stumbled with a bewildered expression as he scanned
the room.

Two brooms swept opposite corners as a giant mop busily washed the middle of the floor. Twin
beds, two dressers and a couple of nightstands were pressed up against a giant wardrobe on the far
side of the room.

“Dobby has chosen to serve Harry potter and his family sir!” Dobby exclaimed as he held his head
high and pulled the bottoms of his new pillow case so that he wore it taught in proud display.

“But Dobby I don’t need a servant…” Harry began but was quickly rebuffed.

“Master does not **need** a servant?” Dobby asked incredulously spreading his long arms and
waving them about the room, “Masters house is messy! There is lots of cleaning that needs to be
doing! Who’s doing cooking? Who’s taking care of Harry Potters’ family? Of Masters home?”

Dobby rested his hands on his hips and began to breathe faster than Harry liked. He began to
worry that if Dobby didn’t soon calm down he would hyperventilate and pass out.

“I didn’t mean to upset you Dobby – It’s just that you’re my friend! I couldn’t possibly ask you
to be my servant! What about your freedom?” Harry implored hurriedly before Dobby could cut him off
again.

Dobby clasped his hands together and drew them up to a wild grin. His eyes grew wider as he
cried;

“Master Harry Potter sir is truly the greatest wizard! Dobby is honored to be called friend by
his Master! You is in need of serving and I is choosing to serve! See? I **is** choosing! Master
has taught Dobby years ago he can be choosing so he is!”

Harry once again was at a loss for words so he simply stood and stared at the hopeful expression
on Dobby’s face. He didn’t want to upset him, and it seemed that Dobby was pretty determined to
stay.

Wanting to avoid any hard feelings Harry gave in and said with as much authority as he could
muster;

“All right Dobby – but you are **not** my servant. You will continue to be paid twice
whatever Professor Dumbledore was paying you back at Hogwarts.”

If it were possible, Dobby’s eyes became even wider.

“That is paying too much Master Harry Potter sir! What is Dobby going to be doing with such?” he
supposed in wonderment.

The look on the house-elf’s face gave Harry a small smile as he replied;

“It’s your **choice** Dobby,” and then as an after-thought he added, “and please stop calling
me *‘Master’* or I’ll fire you.”

Harry knelt and, looking straight into Dobby’s eyes, proffered his right hand for a
hand-shake.

Dobby, still unsure of himself, hesitated only a second before grasping Harry’s hand and shaking
it with an embarrassed smile.

“By the way Dobby, how did you get into this house? I thought you needed my permission
first.”

“Dobby is a house-elf sir.” He shrugged, as if that explained everything.

“I see…” said Harry, though he was certain he didn’t see at all and wasn’t about to confess
it.

Somewhat satisfied, Harry rose and surveyed the room yet again, not failing to note that the
brooms and mop had not stopped their cleaning before turning to leave once more for the
kitchen.

When he got to the door Dobby called out causing him to turn back around and give a questioning
look.

“Dobby is almost forgetting Harry Potter sir!”

Harry watched as Dobby sprinted to the wardrobe and pulled out a small feminine looking tan coat
with faux-fur lining. He quickly ran to Harry and pushed it into his hands.

“This is Mas - I means Harry Potter’s girlfriends’ sir!” Dobby emphatically stated.

*‘Girlfriend?’* thought Harry. He looked closely at the jacket and immediately recognized
it as the one Hermione wore when she ‘convinced’ him to leave Buckbeak’s room last Christmas;
apparently she had left it behind in her haste to leave at the end of the holiday.

“Dobby, Hermione’s not my girlfriend - She’s my best **friend**.”

Dobby looked at Harry as if he had just proclaimed that the Loch-Ness Monster had asked him to
tea and biscuits.

“Dobby is very busy and Master’s friends are waiting!” Dobby managed to proclaim before turning
Harry around and pushing him out the door.

Harry felt the door close roughly behind him and he wondered what on earth had gotten into his
house-elf friend.

He looked down at the soft jacket and decided he would hold on to it until he saw Hermione as he
made his way back down the stairs.

He stopped half-way down when the hair on the back of his neck rose and he experienced the same
sensations he had when he *‘felt’* Moody’s presence earlier outside. He looked in the general
direction of where the kitchen should be, in the lower level and through the wall past the grand
entryway on his right, and was pleased to see the familiar light blue ‘beam’ coming through the
wall and resting on himself.

Harry felt his temper rise when he realized that privacy was something he was going to lack as
long as Moody was around. He had the sudden inspiration to see if could do something about it.

He focused his mind on the beam for a long moment until he could feel the energy of it. He
focused on the light until he could see the tiniest of waves and sparkles, appearing very much like
shiny pearls in glowing water.

He was quite startled when he suddenly heard Moody’s gravely voice in his head.

“The boy’s caught me looking Dumbledore.”

“Interesting indeed.” replied the Head-Master.

Harry swore he heard Dumbledore’s response through Moody. *‘This is too weird.’* He
thought.

“Go on Harry, keep focusing.” Dumbledore said.

“You mean he can hear us too?” gasped Tonks.

“Through Alastor he can - at this moment – yes.” Dumbledore replied.

“Oh.” He heard Tonks say as Moody growled.

Harry closed his eyes and focused on the sensations of the light blue beam. He concentrated on
the tingling and attempted to suppress them. Slowly they began to fade and soon he couldn’t feel
them at all.

He opened his eyes to find the beam wildly searching about the stairs as Moody calmly said;

“I’ve lost him. I don’t see him at all.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin at what he had just accomplished. He was amazed and elated as he
strolled into the kitchen amongst Moody’s scowl; Tonks look of amazement, Lupin’s smile and
Dumbledore’s praise.

“Excellent Harry, well done! Now is definitely the time to discuss your training schedule.
Please have a seat.”

“Training schedule?” Harry asked as he sat carefully folding Hermione’s coat and setting it atop
his cloak on the seat next to him.

“Yes Harry, but not just yours. I thought it wise to include your friends as well, though I must
warn you - your schedule will be particularly grueling.”

Harry nodded. *‘Finally!’* he thought.

“Very well; Alastor, Remus, Kingsley and Professor’s McGonagall and Flitwick have all graciously
volunteered to work with you on varying days – I also will be training you myself of course.”
Dumbledore said as he stared at Harry over his half-moon glasses.

Harry nodded once more but this time acknowledging both Moody and Lupin, as both nodded in
return.

“As I mentioned earlier, Grimmauld Place has had many wards and protections set in place during
its occupation by the Black family. It is no secret that they practiced the ‘dark’ arts. I had long
suspected that the house would shield it’s occupants from the prying eyes of the Ministry, that is,
all sorts of illegal magic, including underage magic, could be practiced here - untraceable. My
suspicions were confirmed when Sirius informed me that his parents gave him lessons in a
specialized training room in the basement level of this house. His parent’s intention, naturally,
was to give him a ‘leg up’ as it were, so that he would easily excel in his classes when he was
ready to attend Hogwarts. Remus has located this room and I believe it will meet our needs.”

“You mean I’m going to train here?” Asked Harry perplexed. “I can do magic in this house?”

“Yes Harry - you can and should. You will need to practice as much as possible. The return of
Voldemort dictates that we make haste. It is imperative that we do everything necessary to prepare
you, for his attack is certain.”

“You’re not alone in this Harry.” Lupin said with certainty. “I don’t know what’s with you in
particular, but we’re going to fight him together.”

Tonks and Moody nodded in agreement.

Harry locked eyes with Dumbledore for a brief moment as he thought *‘they have no idea what
the prophecy said do they?’*

Dumbledore gave the slightest shake of his bearded head for an answer then asked;

“Do you have any questions for us Harry?”

“Well…” Harry began as he looked up deep in thought to find a spider spinning its web in a
ceiling corner, “what’s going on with Voldemort? Where is he and what is he doing? Are the Death
Eaters that you captured still in Azkaban? What is the Order doing and where have they been meeting
if not here? When does my training start and what will I be studying? How much longer do I have to
live with the Dursley’s? How soon can I visit the Burrow? How come I can feel and see all these
funny things now when before I couldn’t?”

“Jeez Harry! And all in one breathe too, I’m impressed!” teased Tonks from the opposite side of
the table.

When she saw the glare Moody had given with both his real and magical eye from next to her, she
quickly amended;

“Just trying to lighten the mood is all! Sheesh you’re **moody**!” Tonks stated as she turned
from Moody’s continued stare and lifted her left hand to shield her face from him before flashing
Harry a another grin and a wink.

“I saw that you know!” Moody grunted.

“Damn eye! If you weren’t so old and decrepit I’d be concerned!” retorted Tonks.

“Decrepit?” questioned Moody - as his face had been so deformed from years of curses, it was now
contorted with what Harry assumed to be incredulity, had the image not been frightening, he would
have laughed.

Dumbledore amusedly cleared his throat and began speaking once he had everyone’s attention.

“Ok Harry, I will answer as much as I can and in some semblance of order. First, we do not know
where Voldemort is, though we suspect he is still in the country. We do know however, that he
intends to rescue the Death Eaters who are currently imprisoned in Azkaban and renew his efforts to
obtain some sort of ‘weapon’ that I believe still resides in the Department of Mysteries. We are
also certain that he has made some sort of an alliance with the giants, has recruited foreign dark
practitioners, including vampires, and is currently in talks with the centaurs. Second, the Order
is continuing to monitor any unusual activity within the Ministry as well as any unexplained
disappearances of both wizard and muggle alike. On that account, nothing has stood out thus far. As
for the Order, we have been meeting haphazardly here and there. We cannot meet at Hogwarts for
obvious political reasons nor did I wish to intrude upon the family members of any in the Order as
it would unwittingly endanger them as well.”

“Why don’t you continue to meet here? I don’t have a problem with that.” Harry interrupted,
causing Dumbledore to smile proudly.

“Thank you Harry, but as I said I didn’t wish to intrude…”

“But it’s alright Professor. Won’t it make it that much easier for all the training if the Order
members were already here or due to be here?” Harry questioned. It would be easier Harry reasoned,
especially since he was afraid to be left out of the loop again.

“Thank you Harry, this is most generous of you.” Dumbledore replied with a small bow of his
head.

“Don’t mention it.” waved Harry. What else was he going to do with this place anyway? He then
crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair allowing Dumbledore to continue.

“Third, your training regimen will be difficult and draining at best. You will be studying some
theory but performing practical application mostly. Your power resides in the strength of will, and
we will be working on that more than anything else. I am presently in communication with someone
whom I believe can instruct you in wand-less magic, as I am no means an expert on the subject. This
is one area in which Voldemort far surpasses me and I wish you to have the utmost education on this
subject in particular. Nonetheless, Alastor will provide Auror training, Professors McGonagall and
Flitwick will provide instruction on advanced transfiguration and dueling, respectively, and Remus
will provide further tutoring on all the subjects we will cover.”

“What will you be teaching me?” asked Harry, curious and excited at the prospect of be taught by
Dumbledore himself.

The Head-Master’s enigmatic smile returned as he answered.

“I won’t speak of it here, but I can give surety that you will be far from disappointed.”

Harry hoped Dumbledore would elaborate but realized he wouldn’t as he continued to answer
Harry’s earlier questions.

“Fourth, you must remain at your relatives until your Birthday.” Dumbledore raised his hand to
stop Harry before he could protest, then continued “I’m sorry Harry, but that is how the protective
magic works – not even I can change that. As for the Burrow, I’d rather you stay here in your own
house simply to accommodate your training schedule, but I do not begrudge you a visit every now and
then – you will need a break.”

“Thanks.” Harry muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“And finally, the reason for your sudden outburst of talents may be summed up in one word –
puberty, and I am most certain you will find that some ‘funny’ feelings can be quite profound.”

Dumbledore shook his head slightly and smiled at the table while Tonk’s cheeks flushed and Lupin
shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hands and eyes glued to his empty mug. Moody seamed completely
oblivious and appeared to have understood as much as Harry had – nothing.

Harry scrunched up his nose as he tried to understand just how a funny feeling could be profound
when Dumbledore rose and announced that it was well past time to leave.

“We will return tomorrow evening to begin your training and to tend to Buckbeak Harry.” He said
while everyone else stood and prepared to leave.

The Head-Master then pulled out the box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans from his robe pocket
and handed it to Harry.

“When you’re ready it will return you to the bedroom in your Aunts house. Keep it on you, it
will activate once more tomorrow at 4Pm, bringing you directly here in this kitchen where both
Alastor and Remus will meet you. Dobby will allow them entry, he knows your wishes. I will see you
next week, sooner if there is news. Take care Harry, call for Fawkes if you need anything.” And
with that Dumbledore walked over to the giant fireplace on the far side of the kitchen, lit it,
grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the jar on top of the mantle, stepped inside and yelled “My
office!” and with a swoosh of brilliant green flames, disappeared.

Call for Fawkes? How was he supposed to do that?

“I’ll see you tomorrow boy. Be ready.” Moody grunted as he pulled on his invisibility cloak.

The shimmering opalescent colors came in to view once more as Moody exited the kitchen and out
the front doors of the house. Now that Harry thought about it, he couldn’t actually see through
Moody’s cloak, he could just see that it was there, well that and the eye he supposed. He’d have to
look that one up.

“Good bye Harry, I’ll try to see you some time this week Ok? My shift is going to start soon and
I better get to the office before all the coffee’s gone.” Tonks giggled as she formally shook
Harry’s hand. She too left by Floo yelling “Ministry Headquarters!”

“Alright Harry, you’d better go first, I can see my self out.” said Lupin as he again placed a
fatherly hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry really took the time to take in Lupin’s appearance now that he had more light than when
they had first met outside and became immediately alarmed by what he saw. He **did** look
terrible! The whites of his gray eyes were blood-shot and had large dark circles underneath them.
His hair was disheveled and the unshaven hair on his face stood out significantly against his
overly pale skin. His robes looked even shabbier than usual and Harry could see that Lupin had lost
some weight.

“I have been much worse.” Lupin said with a slight smile.

Harry wasn’t convinced and was struck by an idea.

“Why don’t you stay here and help me with the house? There’s so much still that needs to be done
and I’m not really all that sure what Sirius’ plans were for the rest of the house…”

Lupin gave Harry a side-ways look and responded;

“You have Dobby to do that, you don’t need me.”

“Yes he’ll clean up the place but I won’t be here most of the next couple of years. You know
this place better than anyone else; there are all kinds of rooms and things that need sorting. I
don’t know what half the stuff in this house does! I’m sure some of them are even dangerous!”

“I don’t know Harry; I don’t want to be a burden…” Lupin answered looking down at his shoes.

“Are you crazy?” Harry almost yelled. “Dumbledore told you to tutor me! How are you supposed to
do that if you’re not here? You said that you’d be there for me if I needed you – well I need you
to stay here and not only help me look after this gargantuan place but also help me to defeat
Voldemort.” He finished emphatically.

Lupin returned his gaze upon Harry and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“You say that like you’re the only one that can beat him.”

“You know what I mean!” Said Harry hurriedly, “so will you stay?”

Lupin’s stance relaxed and he stuck out his right hand grinning broadly.

“Alright, it’s a deal for now then.”

As soon as Harry reached for Lupin’s hand, Lupin pulled him into a fierce hug and after a brief
moment let go.

“You’d better get going Harry, It’s going to be dawn soon and I need my beauty rest.”

Relief washed over Harry knowing that Lupin would be well sheltered and cared to by Dobby as he
grabbed his invisibility cloak and Hermione’s jacket off the chair and draped them both over his
left arm. He was just about to activate the port-key when he heard Lupin speak.

“Thanks Harry. I know what you’re doing… and I appreciate it.” He said sincerely.

Harry gave Lupin his best Weasley twin impression of *‘you can’t prove that we owl-posted
**that** bit of pixy dung!’* and said “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”, and then
disappeared.

Harry didn’t realize how tired he was until he reappeared into his old bedroom. He glanced at
the clock on his nightstand and saw that it was just past six in the morning. Hazy sunlight was
already creeping through his bedroom window so he pulled down the shades and tossed his cloak
across the room and onto his trunk.

He then threw himself onto the bed before realizing that he still held Hermione’s coat, but he
thought he’d just rest his eyes for a second and put her jacket on the chair in a minute or
two…

Harry lay in the softest bed he had ever been on in his life. He was incredibly comfortable and
warm and he didn’t ever want to get up. He rolled over to his side and something tickled his nose.
A mixture of the most wonderful concoction of scents wafted into Harry’s nostrils; vanilla, nutmeg,
cloves and lavender, strangely recognizable and both calming and exciting at the same time. He
couldn’t explain it, he just knew he never wanted to leave this bed, never wanted to stop the
tender and enticing feelings that were stirring from someplace deep within his soul.

He could hear a distant door bell ring as his nose was tickled once more by something fuzzy.
Familiar voices could now be heard muffled as he snuggled his face against the warm fuzziness still
tickling his nose. Knocking could be heard now and someone was calling his name.

“Harry! Get up! You have a visitor!” Aunt Petunia yelled through the door.

“Go away!” Harry half yelled in his dream like state.

“I told you he didn’t want company!” He heard his Aunt say as her footsteps echoed back down the
stairs.

“Harry are you Ok? Harry please open the door!” came a girls voice followed by more
knocking.

“What the…?” Harry exclaimed as he opened his eyes to see that he had buried his face into the
faux fur lined hood of Hermione’s jacket and jumped immediately awake.

“Harry?” came the girl’s voice again.

“Hold on!” Harry yelled as he kicked the covers that he had somehow gotten under and sat bolt
upright on the edge of his bed. He looked down on to the bed and noticed Hermione’s coat had gotten
completely wrinkled and didn’t look nearly as nice as when he had first gotten it from Dobby.

*‘I can’t give that back to her looking like that!’* Harry thought as he hastily tried to
cover it with his bed sheets and then ran to the door, throwing it open.

With her hair pulled back into a loose bun and dressed casually in pair of light blue jeans and
a white blouse stood a worried looking Hermione Jane Granger with Crookshanks in her arms.

“Hermione… what are you doing here?” asked Harry perplexed, still holding the door.

“Well…” stammered Hermione whose hand shook as she petted her cat, “you haven’t answered any of
my letters and I really needed you to look after Crookshanks for me because my parents are taking
me to France for a couple of weeks and I can’t take him with us. I couldn’t ask Ron because you
know how they don’t get along and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him with anyone else. So I
asked my parents to bring me here so I could drop him off, they said I could stay for about an hour
- because they have a last minute errand to run, if that’s Ok with you, and Kingsley’s down stairs
running interference for me, since Dumbledore insisted that he accompany us to the airport anyway.
And how come you haven’t written back to me? Not that you could these past few days as Hedwig has
been staying with me, it’s been a blessing really as my Mom has been using her for errands, she
seems quite happy actually. And… oh Harry I was so worried at first when I didn’t hear from you!”
Hermione finished completely winded.

She dropped an unexpected Crookshanks (who hissed indignantly as he ran past and jumped onto
Harry’s bed), and threw herself into Harry nearly knocking him flat, squeezing him until he could
hardly breath.

Harry tried desperately to steady himself by leaning into Hermione’s embrace; hints of vanilla,
ginger, nutmeg, pumpkin (and mince pies?) assaulted his senses once more as he felt a commanding
rush of warmth radiate from his core and his stomach growled hungrily.

He then remembered that he hadn’t eaten properly in days and subsequently couldn’t recall a word
she had just said… something important… something about… Crookshanks?



6. Secrets and Serpents
-----------------------



**Chapter 6**

**Secrets and Serpents**

The room was surprisingly bright and well lit from the large fire burning in the corner. There
in the center, facing the only entrance, on top of an old worn rug sat an even older looking arm
chair, and in that - a tall and thin man whose pale skin stood in stark contrast to his midnight
colored robes. His long bony fingers grasped a Yew wand and his laterally slit pupils focused on
the cowering figure prostrating itself before him as if expecting to be struck by a venomous
serpent at any moment.

“Well?” hissed the high pitched voice, dark and snake-like.

The cloaked figure shivered as he continued to kneel with his head bowed, concealed in the
darkness of his hood.

“Dumbledore does not trust me my Lord. I feel he suspects…” whimpered the voice.

“Silence!” yelled Lord Voldemort, “I did not ask you to report on what I already know.”

“Y-yes my Lord, o-of course not…”

“I did not expect the old fool to tell you where the boy lived. You are a master Legilimens are
you not? I would have suspected that this bit of information would be easily found by the likes of
you… how disappointing.” He sneered.

“B-but my Lord, the protections on the place…” The figure began.

Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the hapless person.

“Crucio!” he yelled.

The figure was immediately thrown backwards onto the wooden floor and began to roll about
violently kicking up dust and arching his back in a most unnatural way. The final spasm resulted in
a loud `cracking' sound as one arm twisted so awkwardly that the bone broke.

“M-master… p-please!” it begged in half a scream.

“I told you not to tell me what I already know.” Voldemort reiterated as he pointed his wand up
and away. “I know I cannot enter the house… but that does not mean that my most faithful cannot
also…”

The figure drew ragged breathes and tried to return to a kneeling position but was doing so with
great difficulty as he supported his one limp arm with the other.

“Y-yes my Lord, I have discovered the home of Potters' blood relatives.” The voice came
shaking, “A-and I have had the home watched, I can report on their habits so that you may choose
the best time to strike.”

“Good - and his friends? What can you tell me about them?” questioned the Dark Lord as he
mindlessly twirled his wand in-between long fingers.

“We know the locations of the five,” the figure breathed “and aside from the broadly defended
home of the Weasleys' fathers', only one person seems to be heavily guarded and she is set
to leave the country as we speak.”

“Yessss - I know of this one. She is the *red*… she is an abomination and shall be dealt
with accordingly.” Voldemort coldly declared as he narrowed his eyes in thought.

The ensuing silence became deathly uncomfortable for the figure and he spoke once more to break
the stillness that had engulfed the room.

“M-master… t-the `red'?” he hesitantly asked.

The dark lord contemplated this question for a few moments before answering,

“Alchemy - it is beyond your understanding for me to explain this to you.” Then, almost in a
whisper and as if talking to himself he added, “suffice it to say that when polar essences merge
they tend to form a newer, more powerful body, and when meddled with become extraordinarily
dangerous and volatile.”

Voldemorts' vision abruptly returned to the cowering figure before him.

“Master, I have also discovered that Dumbledore has contacted an Unspeakable.” the figure added
as it had just occurred to him; clearly not understanding the Dark Lords' explanation and
wishing to change the subject.

“An Unspeakable?” he asked - not the least bit surprised, “Curious indeed… This must mean that
our young friend is undeniably progressing.”

“But Master… shouldn't the Potter boy be killed before he gets much stronger?” the figure
questioned, stunned that the Dark Lord would state such a fact and not be angry about it.

Voldemorts' snake like pupils narrowed and focused upon the figure once more as he jerked
his wand to the right in one swift motion and pointing it at the far wall.

The figure let out a yelp as if a troll had struck him with its club and was pulled forcibly
from the floor and thrown up against the wall with a loud crash. And as the Dark Lord released his
spell, the figure collapsed into a heap with the sickening sounds of more broken bones, moaning on
the floor.

Voldemort realized immediately that he should not have lost his temper so. It will be difficult
for his servant to explain away his injuries let alone perform the tasks that he had been asked of.
But the Dark Lord couldn't help the fact that his Death Eaters had failed miserably to obtain
the key to Harry's death. It wasn't the “weapon” he knew, but it was definitely the key.
That's why Dumbledore went to such great lengths to protect it, and now half his faithful were
locked away and heavily guarded in Azkaban; though for not much longer he mused.

*`**Yes, the meddlesome old fool* *unquestionably* *knows what had been
prophesized. He obviously failed to inform the* *boy;* *otherwise he* *surely*
*would have suspected* *my intentions.'*

He knew that Snape had been giving the boy Occlumency lessons and that he was not progressing
well at all.

*`Well, I didn't at first either.'* He briefly reflected. *`Perhaps it's time
to send another message…a test.'*

“Wormtail!”

The entrance door slowly opened and another hooded figure dressed in black robes and walking
hesitantly into the room with a slightly hunched over gait; Pettigrew stopped within a few feet of
his Master.

“Y-yes Master?” came Wormtails' frightened and squeaky voice.

“You are certain that the homes defenses can be breached?” Voldemort threatened as he narrowed
his eyes at the shaking coward in front of him.

“Yes my Lord! I have spent over ten years studying its weakness'!” Pettigrew responded as
confidently as he dared.

“Good, then I have a task for you Wormtail… do you think you're capable?”

“Yes of course my Lord!” Pettigrew responded quickly.

“You sound too happy… perhaps you wish to be away from me, for your own purposes?” Voldemort
hissed.

“N-no Master!! I only wish to do as you ask!” He answered as if pleading for his life.

“I grow tired of your lies… never forget your loyalties Wormtail. There is nothing that I shall
easily forget.” Voldemort paused to insure that Pettigrew had understood the threat completely
before continuing, “However, even you can surprise me… You have done well this past year. If the
information you have gathered proves to be accurate and of use, you will be amply rewarded…”

“T-thank you Master!” Pettigrew said as he bowed his head and shivered.

“Inform Lucius and the others that their Master has not forsaken them and they will be free in
two days time. You may go.”

Pettigrew nodded and hurried to leave as Voldemort glanced to the side of the room where the
broken heap of a figure lay silently sobbing and unable to move.

“And Peter…” The Dark Lord called as he rubbed his forehead with long pale fingers.

“Yes Master?” Pettigrew questioned, stopping half way to the door and turning to face Voldemort
once again.

“Alert the potions master - he has a patient.”

To which Pettigrew spun and ran as quickly out of the room as his little feet would carry
him.

A/N: I didn't want to do it but I had to in order to accelerate the plot. The next chapter
will be up very soon… I promise!

4

-->



7. Almost
---------



**Chapter 7**

**Almost**

“Hermione… I don't think… I can… feel my… arms anymore.” Harry said as he tried to catch his
breath through Hermione's bear like hug. She was, after all pinning his arms to his sides and
his fingers were beginning to go numb.

“Oh…” she replied sheepishly as she let go and stepped back, giving Harry an appraising
look.

The warmth that had radiated from within Harry not moments before quite suddenly dissipated, and
though the air was filled with summer heat, curiously he felt cold.

“Harry you look a mess!” she said as her worried expression returned in full force.

“Yeah…err…” Harry began as he dropped his eyes to the floor and ran his right hand through his
hair. It was true, he decided, he probably did look pretty bad. His hair felt even more unruly than
usual - and a bit greasy. He hoped that it didn't resemble Snapes'.

“Well… you see…” he began but it seemed his stomach had other plans than to talk because at that
moment it chose to growl loudly.

Harry hurriedly placed both palms over his angry stomach to stifle the noise as he began to feel
heat rush into his face in embarrassment.

“Oh I'm sorry!” she exclaimed, sounding more worried than before. “You must be
starving!”

Hermione stepped back out into the hall and picked up a medium sized card board box Harry had
not noticed prior. Before he could question what it was, he had to jump out of her way as she
hurried past him and set the box on the edge of his bed.

“Harry, what happened to your desk?” she asked, noticing the pile of unopened letters and dust
up against the wall next to the nightstand.

“Well… umm… It's kind of hard to explain really…” Harry began awkwardly, again avoiding
Hermiones' questioning stare as he rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand and pocketed
his left.

“Never mind - you can tell me after you've had a bite to eat.” she impatiently stated as she
waved her hand in the air.

Hermione returned her attention to the box and shooed Crookshanks to the head of the bed where
he promptly curled up into a ball on Harrys' pillow and stared at his mistress while she
removed one tinfoil wrapped item after another and set them lined up at the foot. She grabbed one
of the smaller round-shaped ones and turned back to Harry handing it to him.

Harry took it and upon unwrapping it saw what it was.

“Mince pie?” he asked with wide eyes.

His stomach gave another growl and forgetting his manners - took one large bite; taking half
into his mouth at once. Hermione simply beamed at the sight.

“Mmmm… this is great Hermione, wherever did you get them?” Harry hungrily asked while crumbs of
various sizes of breading escaped his mouth and he pointed at the other same sized and shaped
packages lying across his bed.

“Oh… well… I've been learning to bake this past week… d-do you really like it Harry?” she
asked nervously, searching Harrys' eyes for any discernable sign that he didn't.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle and grin broadly at the look on Hermione's face; until
she abruptly broke eye contact and started staring at the window pane, biting her bottom lip.
Harrys' grin fell in an instant.

“Hermione… are you completely nutters?! This is wonderful! This is better than at Hogwarts…
it's the best I ever had!” he exclaimed - for he felt sure that it truly was the best he had
ever tasted.

Hermione probed Harry's eyes once more and he was intent on focusing all his sincerity into
them. She must have believed him for the sparkle returned to her eyes and she stopped biting her
lower lip - which now glistened wet, looking softly swollen and puckered.

“Harry!” Hermione half yelled.

Her grin appeared to be even broader than before, and though she was blushing furiously - she
seemed rather jubilant.

“What?” Harry asked, now more bewildered than ever.

“I **said** - `thank you - you really know how to boost my confidence'.”

His stomach growled once more before he realized that he had quite forgotten about the other
half of mince pie still in his hand. In answer; he stuffed the remaining half into his mouth and
replied.

“You're the best at everything you do Hermione, and now you're a great cook too.” he
said matter-of-factly, then added “May I have another?”

“Of course Harry!” Hermione happily answered as she grabbed two more mince pies off the bed;
which she unwrapped before handing them to an eager Harry.

He took another huge bite out of one and motioned for her to sit on the edge of the bed, which
she did - apparently happy to see him eating.

“I was bored out of my mind this past week. Normally my parents would have me helping them at
the office - but for whatever reason they wouldn't let me, so I asked Mum to lend me her old
cook books. I heard you haven't been eating… and I always wanted to have a go at cooking, so…
Anyway, there are a lot of really good recipes I'd still like to try, though I had made an
absolute disaster of breakfast, I don't think I'll attempt it ever again - I nearly burned
down the house!” Hermione finished quietly laughing at the memory.

Harry finished off the first of the two pies and bit into the second before he absent mindedly
declared;

“That's no problem, I can make our breakfasts.”

Hermione sat silently and gave Harry a look he couldn't quite place when he suddenly
remembered something she had said.

“Wait… how do you know if I've eaten or not?” he asked quizzically.

Hermione at once seemed quite embarrassed and began nervously biting her bottom lip again as she
looked at the unopened letters on the floor.

“Well… I had talked to Dumbledore a few times and…” Hermione began but was then cut off.

“So now what?! Dumbledore's running around telling everyone about my business?” Harry spat,
quickly feeling his temper rise.

Hermione jumped off the bed and stood facing Harry squarely as she narrowed her eyes and pointed
to the letters on the floor next to the bed.

“Harry, I had written to you every day since we've gotten off the train! Not once did you
return my letters! I even told Hedwig to force a response form you - but when she came back looking
rumpled and dejected… What was I to do? I was worried about you Harry! I had to talk to someone!”
she argued, matching his ire.

Harry felt his temper turn to guilt as he remembered that he hadn't written back to anyone,
especially Hermione. He knew she would worry herself sick and yet he still chose not to answer her
letters. He had felt so justified in his anger and sadness; he wasn't worried about how his
behavior may look to his friends. But now that Hermione was standing not two feet from him, he just
felt guilty and confused.

“I'm sorry Hermione.” he sighed as he lowered his head and turned to look out the window.
“It's just… It's just that I feel so out of control… It's like I can't ever be
happy.”

“I'm sorry too Harry… I wish… I wish Sirius was still here for you.” she finished, wrapping
her arms around herself and looking back down unfocused at the letters, biting her lip yet
again.

Harry's shoulders drooped and he placed a hand on the bottom of the window as if to support
himself standing.

“You have no idea… everyone close to me has died… Sirius… my parents… Cedric… EVERYONE
HERMIONE!!” yelling the last bit as he straightened himself and turned his back completely to her,
facing Hedwig's empty cage. His eyes burned and he closed them tightly, desperately trying to
stem the flow of tears he hoped would not fall in front of her.

He could feel Hermione come up behind and as she placed a hand on his arm -he found his voice
again shuddering.

“Don't touch me Hermione… you're next… then Ron… then Remus…then everyone else I give a
damn about…”

“Harry… It's not your fault!” she said anxiously, then pleaded; “It's Voldemorts!
He's the one killing people… not you! Please Harry… please don't do this to yourself!” and
she only gripped his arm tighter, refusing to let go.

“Sirius died trying to save me… I should have practiced Occlumency like you told me… I should
have listened to you when you told me it was a trap… I should have…”

Hermione stepped right up against Harry's back and pressed her forehead in between his
shoulder blades, she started sobbing quietly as she said;

“Harry… If it's anyone's fault it's mine.”

Harry turned his head and looked down at the small trembling hand gripping his left arm;
astonished as he tried to comprehend how Hermione could possibly blame herself.

“How- how on earth can you blame yourself?” he croaked.

“I **shouldn't** have trusted Kreacher! I **should** have told you to Floo directly
into the house to check for Sirius! I **should** have remembered that Snape was in the order! I
**should** have paid more attention to the Death Eaters so I could have been with you in the
veiled room!” she had hammered her fist into Harry's right shoulder as she cried out each
point.

Harry rounded on Hermione so quickly that she immediately let go and took a step back clutching
her chest in alarm at the sudden ferocity emanating from Harry's eyes. He pointed an accusing
thumb at himself and hissed;

“He died because **I** was too stupid to listen to reason! He died because **I** was lured
into a trap! Don't you start taking responsibility for something that's **my** fault
Hermione!”

Hermione dropped her hands down to her sides and clenched her fists; eyes red and puffy, boring
into his as she took a half step closer.

“He died because he chose to go to the Ministry and save **us** Harry! **US**!! And it was
**his** choice to make - not **ours**!” she yelled, stomping her foot at the last bit in
frustration; then quietly whispering “I just wish I would have done things differently, so that he
wouldn't have had to make that decision.”

A painful throb burned in Harry's chest and it hurt to see Hermione so teary eyed and upset,
and it pained him even more deeply to see that she had already accepted blame for Sirius' death
as well. He found that he was no longer angry, but tired and afraid once more. His shoulders
drooped yet again in defeat and he looked down at the laces on her small brown trainers, ashamed at
his outburst.

“You need to leave…” he softly implored.

He sensed Hermione stiffen and quickly went on before he lost his resolve.

“Voldemort's going to kill me Hermione! He'll kill you too just for being my friend… he
only wants me… because I'm… I'm the only one...” he caught himself revealing the prophecy
and stopped before going any further.

Hermione waited with baited breath, staring at Harry with intense worry, hoping he would finish
saying whatever it was he was going to tell her - but when he remained silent with eyes focused
downwards…

“Harry?” she intoned, lowering her head and trying to reestablish eye contact.

She gently placed both hands on his slumped shoulders and quietly said;

“This is about the prophecy isn't it? You've heard it and its not good right? That's
why you've been so…” she glanced back down at the unopened letters, “distant.”

Hermione then gripped Harry's shoulders and shook him forcibly - willing him to see the
fierce determination and resolve in her eyes.

“He's not going to kill you if I have anything to say about it! It didn't take a
prophecy for me to figure out that there's something going on between you and Voldemort. And
when I heard about the duel between him and Professor Dumbledore… well, it's easy to conclude
that you are the only one that can defeat him. That's why he tried to kill you when you were
only a baby and that's why I'm going to make damn sure he can't kill you now!”

Harry sensed a small flicker of hope enter the furthest recess of his mind. After all, if anyone
could help him it'd sure to be Hermione… She had solved Snapes riddle in first year, figured
out a basilisk in the second, helped him save Sirius in the third, taught him both the four-point
spell and summoning charm - which saved his life in the fourth, and he had learned all kinds of
spells and jinx's from her research in the fifth with the D.A.. In fact, he came to the sudden
realization that if it weren't for her… He was quite confident that he would have been long
dead.

But then the haunting image of a lifeless and still Cedric combined with a collapsed Hermione at
the Ministry assaulted his heart with astounding force. He felt as if Grawp himself had struck him
down and he could find no way to recover.

“I-I can't allow it Hermione. I c-couldn't bear it if you died.” he softly said,
struggling to hold back the swell of tears trying to escape.

“Well that's not **your** choice to make now is it Harry!?” she questioned defiantly,
“I'm going to help you do whatever it takes to overcome Voldemort so that you can finally be
free. I'm going to be right by your side whether you like it or not and there's nothing you
can do about it! It's **my** choice to make and I choose to give you fighting chance!” she
huffed.

“You don't know what it's like Hermione!” he yelled, “You don't know what I went
through when I thought that curse killed you! You have no idea…”

Hermione didn't wait to see what it was she no idea of - for she chose that moment to
angrily respond;

“No Harry! It's you who doesn't know what it's like!” she cried, “I'm the one
who watched you disappear without a trace - not knowing if you were dead or alive! I'm the one
who watched you fall off your broom playing that stupid game! I'm the one who sits at your
bedside in the school infirmary every single time something bad happens! You know that there is a
joke running at school that says there's a golden bed in the infirmary with a plaque bearing
your name? How much longer do you think I can take this!?” she let go of Harry's shoulders and
crossed her arms, waiting for him to respond.

He realized then and there that he had never taken the time to consider what she must go through
every time something happened to him, and he quickly became disgusted with himself. So, when he
said nothing, but continued to look at her with mingled doubt and embarrassment, she continued -
desperate to resolve the issue at hand.

“Now the way I see it, you can either waste your time and energy trying to avoid me - as if
Voldemort wouldn't kill me anyway seeing as I'm not a `pureblood', or you can accept my
help and beat him to a pulp, and in so doing, protect me by default.” she finished, satisfied that
she had gotten her point across.

Harry nodded, figuring it was inevitable. He knew he couldn't argue with her anyway,
sometimes he wished she wouldn't make so much sense.

“Thanks…” he said taking a deep breath and nodding again.

Hermione uncrossed her arms and wiped away the tears that had fallen with her hands.

“Don't thank me Harry. I haven't done anything… yet.” she sniffed with a half smile then
sat down again at the middle of the bed.

Crookshanks stirred from Harry's pillow and began rubbing himself up against Hermione's
right arm. She reached over and placed him contently on her lap and began stroking him once more -
the loud purring breaking the silence that had come between them.

“Finish your food Harry.” Hermione admonished as she pointed at the half eaten pie, still in
Harry's right hand.

Harry had once again completely forgotten his unfinished meal and seeing the last little bit,
his stomach chose to remind him. Now that he was emotionally spent, he found himself hungry once
more, so in one giant bite he quickly finished off the remainder.

Hermione gave him a genuine smile and again grabbed two more mince pies and threw them to
him.

He wondered how many of these she had made as he took a large bite out of the first, they were
awfully good and he was certain that he would not be so well fed by the Dursley's.

“My Dad's says I've baked enough for a small army.” she laughed, trying once again to
return some normalcy to their conversation, “I've brought about thirty actually. There's
more in the box. I just finished baking the last of them earlier today since I had already packed
last night.” she smiled.

Harry hurriedly swallowed and said with a soft smile of his own;

“You are amazing Hermione… honestly I don't know what I'd do without you.”

She turned and looked once more inside the box, trying not to show the slight flush that had
again invaded her cheeks, and pulled out a large sealed flask.

Harry couldn't help but grin at the sight of Hermione trying to hide the blush - she had
every right to be proud of herself he thought. He truly was amazed at what she could learn and do
just from reading books.

“I also brought some pumpkin juice.” she said waving the canister, after which she set down next
to all the rest of the packages on the bed.

“What's everything else?” Harry asked as he took another giant bite of the pie in his left
hand and pointed at everything on his bed with the other.

Hermione beamed and pointed at the differing shaped objects next to her, identifying them with
one hand and continuing to pet a purring Crookshanks with the other.

“These of course are more mince pies, and these longer ones over here are brandy snaps -
they're Dads favorite but they're not sugar-free, so he didn't touch them - they were
hard to make but if you like them then it will have been worth it, and I had a go at making some
custard crèmes - they're in the tins. Oh…I also baked a pumpkin pie; it's still in the box
which, indecently I had Kingsley put a chilling charm on so everything will keep for a while.”

Harry, crumbs and all, simply stood and gaped at her; to say he was dumbfounded and speechless
would have been an understatement.

Seeing the expression on Harry's face she laughed,

“I told you I had been bored!”

“I guess so!” came Harry's stunned reply.

“So… are you going tell me what's been going on?” she asked nodding her head at the pile of
dust on the floor and then looking up at him expectantly.

Harry sat with his back to the wall facing her and began to recap as much as he could remember
from the time he destroyed his desk till his return to his bedroom, trying not leave out any detail
- except the part about her coat - as Hermione sat looking deep in thought and listening intently
to every word, patiently waiting for him to finish. He expected her to talk about the house Sirius
had left him, or even about Dobby - but instead she said;

“Well… it's not surprising that you can do wand-less magic, a lot of witches and wizards can
to some extent. But what is surprising is how you can manifest it in such a way as to completely
incinerate your writing desk and yet leave everything else completely untouched. Everyone can see
that you're going to be a powerful wizard Harry. I wonder who Dumbledore is getting to teach
you about it?” she asked with furrowed brow.

“No idea.” answered Harry, “And how is Flitwick supposed to teach me about dueling?”

Hermione rolled her eyes before answering;

“Honestly Harry, don't you ever listen? Professor Flitwick was a dueling champion for many
years! I didn't know he was in the Order though, I don't remember seeing him… I suppose
there are plenty of members we don't know about?” she questioned.

Harry shrugged.

“I'll have to ask him about that during my next lesson.”

“Flitwick?” he confusedly asked.

“No Harry, Dumbledore - my Occlumency lessons. Remember?”

“Oh…” said Harry, suddenly nervous as he remembered that she would be helping him with it. He
wasn't sure he wanted her poking around his head any more than Snape, but he knew the grave
consequences of not learning it properly - and he had to admit that learning it from Hermione was
definitely more pleasant than the alterative.

“Anyway…” started Hermione, who looked as if she were having similar reservations about having
Harry in her head as well but had come to the same conclusion as he, “how come you didn't ask
about the weapon Dumbledore mentioned?”

“I don't know… I think I was thrown off when he mentioned that the Order didn't have a
place to meet.” he sighed and rubbed his forehead, knowing he had missed something significant.

“Hmmm…” Hermione mumbled in reflection before saying “It's also very interesting that you
can see magical Items. I suppose that means you can see the magic in people too.”

“Huh?” asked Harry.

“I've been going through the books that Dumbledore left for me and I found that there have
been those who can actually see the magic in people - you know, see how much magic they in fact
have- how potent they are and how much power is actually behind their spell… this is great Harry!
This means that you can produce defensive charms that can protect you from more than just minor
curses and jinxes!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“Hermione - I don't understand what you're talking about!” Harry felt his head begin to
hurt.

“Think about it Harry!”

“I'd rather not…” he was now rubbing his head with both hands.

“If you can determine the amount of power cast in the spell then you can, in turn, increase the
amount of power you put in your own defensive spell! Oh… this is fascinating! I can't wait to
find out more! Maybe I can sit in on your lessons!” Hermione said very excitedly.

“Oh.” was all Harry managed to say as her brow furrowed once more.

“I don't understand about the whole puberty thing however… you've been going through
puberty since second year… there must be something else… I'm going to look that one up as
well.”

Harry didn't find this at all as thrilling as Hermione apparently did, and upon pulling his
knees up and resting his arms on them discovered he was still pretty tired.

Hermione dropped her voice and asked worriedly;

“Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

He looked up to find her face full of concern. The look she gave quickly suppressed any anger he
would have felt.

“Jeez Hermione - does everybody tell you everything?” he asked, unable to completely curb the
spiteful tone in his voice.

“Ron cares about you too you know.” she answered - still speaking softly, leaving Harry
embarrassed at his minor outburst.

“Well… today I slept the best I can ever remember.” he responded truthfully.

“No nightmares?” she asked.

He looked up at the ceiling in thought before answering;

“No… not this morning - I slept brilliantly in fact.” he grinned, still gazing at a spot on the
ceiling as he recalled the pleasant sensations, still vivid in his mind.

Hermione stared at him, unsure as to whether he was being truthful before finally deciding he
was.

“Finish your food Harry. You need a bath.” she said teasingly as she wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah,” Harry laughed looking down at himself “I probably smell funny.” he said wrinkling his
nose in return and smiling.

He stood, raised his arms over his head and stretched; twisting side to side. He grunted as
small pops and cracks came out of his joints.

“You look like Crookshanks!” Hermione laughed, putting her hand to her mouth.

“Thanks.” he replied as he walked to his trunk and removed a fresh pair of jeans, knickers and a
crimson t-shirt, “Since he's **your** cat - I'll take that as a compliment.” he
finished, grinning.

“You've got about fifteen minutes before I have to go, so get!” she playfully ordered.

“But… then maybe I should wait until you've left…” Harry said straightening and facing her
once again.

“Don't worry Harry; I'll still be here when you finish... besides how am I supposed to
know that you've really cleaned yourself up?” she smirked.

“All right, I'll be right back then…” he said as he headed out the door.

Once in the bathroom, he quickly undressed and jumped into the shower. He turned the water up
hot; he felt both metaphorically and physically cleaner as the water cascaded from the top of his
head to the bottoms of his feet. He didn't think he was ready to talk about Sirius, he knew
Hermione had tried to bring the subject of his death up several times back at Hogwarts - yet now
that she had finally confronted him on it, he found himself glad he did. He marveled at how
wonderfully calm he actually felt; it seemed as if the sun had peeked through the storm clouds of
his heart and he was warmed. He still missed his God-father, and he still blamed himself; but for
the first time he could ever remember, he didn't feel alone.

He finished and did his best to quickly dry himself, and after dressing as rapidly as he could,
ran back into his room only to find that Hermione was busily tidying up.

Hedwig's cage had been cleaned and the window and its blinds were both wide open letting in
much light and fresh air. The dust of his desk was gone and in its place rested the box she had
brought; the food and drink carefully returned and packed. On the nightstand, neatly stacked were
his letters. His wardrobe stood open revealing all the clothes from his trunk nicely folded and
hung, and it looked as if Hermione was getting ready to make the bed, as she held the comforter up
in one hand and the sheet in the other, until she noticed that he had entered and abruptly stopped
what she was doing and turned swiftly to face him.

She threw her arms behind her back and looked at Harry wide eyed, both shocked and embarrassed.
She was blushing so feverishly that he could almost feel the heat from where he stood.

“Oh… Harry! Um…I didn't hear you come in! I… I hope you don't mind. I… I was just…”

Harry frowned in complete bewilderment and looked down at himself wondering if in his haste he
had forgotten to put his pants on. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what he'd
done to cause a reaction like that from her.

“It's alright Hermione… I'm the one who should be embarrassed,” he said running his hand
through his still wet air and glancing at his trunk, “I haven't really been keeping up the
room.”

And then suddenly it hit him - she had emptied his trunk! She had touched his knickers! A girl
had touched his knickers!! And to make matters worse - that girl was Hermione!!

His mind began working frantically as he tried to remember what shape they were in. He prayed to
every God he could think of that she hadn't noticed his older holey ones…

Now he could feel the intense heat radiating from his face and was assured that his blush
matched hers when he heard a deep voice from the doorway.

“I'm sorry to interrupt your color contest, but it seemed to me that if both of you got much
redder you'd lose consciousness - I think I'd have a hard time explaining to the Order how
you two ended up at St. Mungos.”

Harry turned to find an amused Shaklebolt dressed in a crisp black suit and matching tie; his
bald head nearly touching the top of the entryway as the gold loop hanging from his ear glistened
from the window light.

He stepped into the room with a big smile and extended his hand to Harry.

“Rather small room you got here Harry, I didn't come up last time. Had I known I would have
threatened your uncle into giving you a bigger one.” Kingsley said as he shook Harry's hand and
glanced about the room. “It's nice to see you gain.” he finished.

The room really did seem small to Harry, especially now with Kingsley's added bulk.

“Err…you too Kingsley.” responded Harry, letting go of his hand.

“If you're ready, your parents are waiting for us outside.” he said nodding to Hermione,
then to Harry he finished, “They don't mean to be rude but they have heard plenty in regards to
your Uncles hospitality.”

“Oh, well let me walk you down then.” offered Harry, noting that both his and Hermione's
color had returned to normal.

“I'll go ahead and check outside the front.” Kingsley said. And when he received a
questioning look form Harry, he shrugged and answered “protocol”.

He then turned to leave, stopping at the door.

“I'll see you in a few days Harry - stay safe.” he added and then left.

“Come on…” said Hermione, her smile returning.

They walked out together only to find Uncle Vernon's look of disgust from the bottom of the
stairs to which Harry completely ignored. Hermione however wrapped her arm around Harry's so
that they walked down step in step with her head held high in defiance. Vernon continued to glare
from the hallway as they got to the open front door where Kingsley stood waiting.

Hermione let Harry's arm go and turned to face him. She looked up into his eyes searchingly
- he felt he ought to do something, but he hadn't a clue as to what it was.

She let out a sympathetic sigh and smiled as she said “I'll see you in two weeks. Dumbledore
says I'm to stay at Grimmauld.” then stood on her toes and softly kissed his cheek.

Uncle Vernon instantly became incensed as he took a roaring step forward, raised his fist and
bellowed;

“I will not have this behavior in my house! Especially with the door wide open so the
neigh..!”

Kingsley turned when he heard the shouting but stopped when he saw that Hermione had stepped in
front of Harry; abruptly halting Harry's Uncle in the middle of his tirade.

Harry saw that Hermione had her wand pointed ominously at Uncle Vernon; who had taken several
steps back, his bulging eyes fixed upon it as if the wand were a bomb which may go off at any
moment.

He briefly wondered where she had hit it for he was certain he hadn't noticed it
earlier.

“If you lay a **finger** on Harry, or harm him in any way - I will curse you into oblivion
and back again. **Do** **-** **you** **-** **understand** **-** **me?**”

Harry had never heard Hermione's voice sound so menacing and deadly before… It not only
terrified Uncle Vernon into nodding his understanding, it had scared Harry as well.

She turned back to Harry and threw her arms around his neck, then pulled his head down kissing
his cheek tenderly once more and, in his ear she whispered “sleep well.”

She released him, smiled at his confused expression for a moment then turned and walked outside
to Kingsley.

It was strange he thought as he watched them get into a silver car he didn't recognize. For
a second there he had almost felt whole again…almost…

1

-->



8. Training Begins
------------------



**Chapter 8**

**Training Begins**

Well past midnight, Harry returned from Grimmauld and fell to his bed, sweaty and exhausted. His
training wasn't going nearly as well as he had hoped. First, Moody and Tonks had gotten the
better of him, then he couldn't perform to McGonagall's standards and so received a four
roll essay assignment on defensive transfiguration and, Flitwick had positively destroyed any
illusions Harry may have had that he was a decent Dueler.

It didn't help matters either now that Moody had taken every opportunity to “surprise
attack” Harry several times a day, he had even done it during Harry's lessons with the others.
The fact that Harry had been unprepared to defend himself in time during each of these “attacks”
seemed only to fuel Moody's desire to increase the frequency of them.

“You never know when you might be on the wrong end of a wand boy,” Moody had admonished after
the fourth attack, “you aren't going to be able to tell when a Death Eater is coming for you,
so it's best to just be prepared at all times.”

Every creaking, popping, cracking, whooshing, and murmuring sound currently had Harry's hair
on end, wand pointed at the ready, and his left eye twitching uncontrollably. It seemed that
because Moody had no children of his own, he had taken it to heart to create a duplicate of himself
in Harry.

So once again, he found himself tired, depressed, miserable, and for the first time, truly
paranoid. If none of his mentors could defeat Voldemort, how exactly he was supposed to do it he
still hadn't a clue. He couldn't even defend himself against Moody's repeated
assaults.

The feeling of hopelessness had returned full force and strangely, a feeling of peace with the
inevitable. Destiny seemed to have called for his death, and as the days went by, Harry not only
became more aware of it, he became more accepting of it.

Harry closed his eyes and attempted to recall the events of the past few days, certain that
Moody wouldn't dare accost him at his Uncles house, after all Harry wasn't allowed to do
magic here. And truth be told, at the moment he was so sore and drained, Voldemort himself could
come waltzing into his bedroom and Harry would welcome the opportunity to be put out of his
misery.

Sighing heavily, Harry began the mental rituals Hermione had instructed him to do every night
before going to sleep in her first letter. He quickly learned that they were necessary for him
clear his mind and reflect properly.

A smile crept onto his face. Hermione had helped him already, and she wasn't even around to
do so. He thought it quite funny that she had taken to writing him every day again. In fact, the
first letter explaining the mind clearing techniques Dumbledore had taught her had been written on
airline stationary, which led Harry to strongly suspect that she had started her letter while on
the plane to France.

Seeing Hedwig had been a real treat also. He was happy to see that she looked in high sprits
once more and made a point to pet her affectionately. It seemed that being with Hermione had done
his pet good; she had obviously taken extra care of her. Harry hoped that Hermione would feel the
same once he returned Crookshanks, and at that thought, the part Kneazle jumped onto the bed,
purring loudly.

“Hello old boy,” Harry began as he scratched Crookshanks behind the ears.

“I'm sorry I have to keep dragging you back and forth between here and Grimmauld. It's
just that I can't let you run around here too much… you know how my relatives are.”

Actually, Harry had seen very little of them. They seemed to have taken on extra curricular
activities outside the house. They were seldom home these days. It was as if Hermione had actually
put Uncle Vernon completely out. He hadn't said two words to Harry since, and avoided him like
never before. Harry still had a hard time believing what she had done. He had been stunned into
silence at the time, though `scared' into silence might be a better description now that he
thought about it. A confrontation with Voldemort seemed a wiser choice, he decided, opposed to an
angry and hostile Hermione. Harry grinned fondly at the memory. He hadn't seen Uncle Vernon
with such a look of abject terror since before first year when Hagrid gave Dudley his tail.

It seemed so long ago. If he knew then, what he knew now, would he still have followed Hagrid
into this strange world? At the time, he had thought that anything would have been better than
where he was, but now? Harry wasn't as sure anymore.

It used to be one adventure after another. He realized that he had felt younger then - time
would last forever, and he, along with his friends, were immortal. The situation had become much
grimmer since, and the certainty of survival had long since passed. He found himself in quite
desperation; hoping both Ron and Hermione would not only survive being his friend, but that they
would also go on with their lives, and not take the responsibility for his death.

Harry had begun to think of his own demise with such ease now that he no longer shuddered. In
fact, he had taken a note out of his Godfathers book and had written a will of his own. He had been
quite surprised to find how easy it was to write of such things.

In it, he had thanked every one he knew for helping him prepare, and for all their offerings of
friendship. He told Remus not to blame himself, and that he would tell both his parents and Sirius
how much he tried and cared. He especially thanked both Ron and Hermione for being his best friends
through it all, and he had even taken the time to write how sorry he was that he could no longer be
with them, but hoped that the reading of his will meant that he had at least taken Voldemort with
him, and they could all live safely now.

He would leave one third each of his inheritance to Lupin, Ron, and Hermione. Grimmauld would go
to Lupin, the chocolate frog cards to Ron, and the two possessions that Harry cared about the most
would go to Hermione - Hedwig and his photo album. Hedwig did seem perfectly happy to stay with
her, and vice versa. His album was another story all together; he had fist thought of Lupin, as
there were of pictures of his parents and Sirius. Though curiously, he couldn't find any with
Lupin, and that had made Harry fell uneasy for some reason he couldn't quite grasp.

There were plenty of pictures of him with Ron and Hermione however, courtesy of one Colin
Creevey, and curious still, the majority of those were of just he and Hermione. Of course, most
were from fourth year when Ron wasn't talking to him, and Colin had gone absolutely nutters
with his camera in a futile attempt to capture every moment of the Tri-Wizard tournament,
especially those of the Gryffindor champion. Besides, Hermione was a girl, and Harry supposed she
would appreciate something more sentimental than his chocolate frog cards.

Harry took a deep breath and concentrated on clearing his mind once more as Crookshanks climbed
up onto his lower chest and curled into a ball. It seemed to have become his custom every night
since Harry started taking care of him. It kept Harry quite warm, and he felt that he slept better
for it.

A cool breeze wafted through the open window and the scents of Hermione's coat hanging on
the back of Harry's study chair entered his consciousness. He had draped it over the chair
shortly after she left, hoping to get all the wrinkles out of it so that he could return it
properly. At first, he thought of hanging it in his wardrobe, but peculiarly he gained comfort in
seeing out in the open. As the nights went by, he found himself pushing the coat-covered chair
closer and closer to the head of his bed. She seemed to be closer that way… and he felt less
alone.

Regardless, he hadn't had a single nightmare since he had obtained it. But, he guessed that
it had more to do with Crookshanks than anything else. After all, the Kneazle did make him feel
rather warm and comfortable. He supposed that was one of the many reasons Hermione was so fond of
her pet.

“Is this how you sleep with Hermione too?” Harry mumbled sleepily.

Crookshanks merely purred louder in answer, the vibrations relaxed and soothed Harry's
aching body even more than he had grown accustomed too. He grinned goofily at the pleasant
sensations and envisioned the bandy-legged cat similarly resting on Hermione as she slept.

Harry tightened his closed eyes and began breathing slowly, deliberately, and rhythmically,
focusing on the imaginary Hermione as she breathed until her chest rose and fell in sync with his.
Crookshanks' purrs became more pronounced, and Harry could feel the calming vibrations
throughout his body and imagined Hermione feeling the same. He could clearly see the ginger paws
resting at her pajama top's V, where her cream-colored skin met the flannel, highlighting the
little freckles like stars in some distant, glorious milky painted galaxy… rising and falling,
rising and falling…

A sudden rush of heat entered Harry's face, and he suddenly felt as if on fire when he came
to the crashing realization that he had been focusing not on Crookshanks, but on Hermione's
chest. Embarrassingly, he quickly adjusted his mental mechanics and forced the image from his mind,
concentrating instead on the first days of training…

…Harry found himself in the basement kitchen at Grimmauld. It was four in the afternoon and he
was prepared to meet Moody for his first lesson. He looked around and found a hot teakettle, two
cups, and some crumpets on the middle of the giant table. He noticed that one of the cups sat half
full and supposed it belonged to Moody. Too nervous for food or drink, Harry sat and waited for his
first instructor to return.

His thoughts returned once more to the events earlier in the day. He couldn't get his mind
off of what Hermione had done. She had really surprised him, not with just her cooking, but the way
in which she helped him with Sirius. Their talk had made him feel a bit better in spirit, and she
had even defended him rather like a mother bear protecting her cubs. He hadn't seen Uncle
Vernon run off, but by the time Hermione had left with Kingsley, and Harry turned to head back into
his room to prepare for the day, Uncle Vernon was nowhere to be found. Harry grinned rather
stupidly at the image; Hermione seemed to have frightened Uncle Vernon more so than the Order had
back at the train station.

And what exactly had she been embarrassed about when he caught her in the process of making his
bed? Harry had returned to his room only to find his knickers untouched in his trunk, nevertheless
she had acted so oddly…

Harry's musings were interrupted by the opening of the kitchen door, but when he looked, no
one was there.

“Moody?” asked Harry hesitantly.

To which there came no reply.

“Dobby?” called Harry questioningly.

The silence of the house remained, and Harry was growing anxious.

He pulled his wand out of his jeans and headed cautiously out and up the stairs into the main
hall. It was there in the middle that he could feel the prickling return to the back of his neck.
He knew immediately that he was being watched, so he narrowed his eyes and began searching about in
an attempt to locate Moody's eye.

He caught sight of the bluish beam emanating down the main hall from what Harry remembered to be
the study.

*`**What is Moody doing in there?**'* Harry wondered.

Harry approached the closed door and knocked softly, whispering “Mr. Moody?”

Silence reigned once more as Harry slowly opened the door. He looked to back of the room and
against a large bookcase where the “eye” obviously stood hidden behind the opalescent sheen of an
invisibility cloak.

“Honestly Mr. Moody, don't you remember that I can see you under that cloak?” Harry heard
himself say, and then roll his eyes as he realized that he had just sounded just like Hermione.

The only thing Harry heard before he fell to a heap on the ground was a woman's voice from
behind him as she whispered, “stupefy!”…

“…Alright boy, sit up and take it easy,” Moody's gruff and raspy voice said as he propped
Harry up against the back of the door.

Harry's head hurt as his vision spun wildly about the room.

“Wha-what happened?” Harry managed to say.

“Sorry Harry! It was Moody's idea!” exclaimed a voice that unmistakably belonged to
Tonks.

“T-Tonks?” questioned Harry as he looked bleary eyed at the obviously feminine figure hunched
over his right, she appeared very concerned.

“I told you this was a bad idea! We should have given him some hint of what was going to happen
today!” berated Tonks to a very unapologetic Moody.

“What? You think that the Death Eaters will give the boy some kind of advanced notice before
they attack him?” Moody growled. “You know better than that Tonks! He needs to be prepared!”

“Here Harry, drink some of this,” whispered Tonks as she handed him a small vial of white
colored liquid.

She uncorked it and a strong smell of peppermint entered Harry's nose.

Harry took a sip and noticed that it tasted just like the Pepperup Potion he was all too
familiar with, but a bit stronger. His head and vision cleared the instant he swallowed.

“That's it Harry, a sip is all it takes,” said Tonks as she re-corked the vial and placed it
in her robe pocket. She stepped back with an appraising look.

Harry quickly got to his feet before replying.

“Why did you guys attack me?” he asked incredulously, rubbing the back of his head.

“You got to be prepared boy,” Moody reiterated. “You got to be aware of your surroundings at all
times. You can't think that you're ever safe - **ever!**”

Harry thought Moody was being a bit unfair; after all, he had prepared himself for a lesson, not
an attack that's for sure.

“Well, at least you had enough sense to have your wand out,” Moody finished, shaking his head in
thought when Harry failed to reply.

“Harry, Death Eaters aren't going to attack you by themselves. They always work in pairs at
the very least, much as Aurors do. With any luck, Alastor and I will show you what it takes to
handle yourself against multiple attackers,” Tonks said, looking more serious than Harry had ever
seen.

The rest of the afternoon proved to be no better. Harry had a difficult time at best defending
himself against the two Aurors, let alone return hexing. Though he had managed to stun Tonks on two
separate occasions, Moody seemed to be cut out of an entirely different cloth. Harry quickly saw
why he was considered the best Auror that had ever lived, he was damn near impossible to defend
against even when Harry knew where he was and what he was going to do.

It didn't get any easier when Moody decided to chuck his invisibility cloak and remove his
magical eye, because then, he became truly invisible to Harry. Why he could see the magic in those
items, but not in the two Aurors like Hermione had supposed he would, he hadn't a clue. He
didn't think it would help much anyway, it would just confirm his depressing suspicions that he
was already magically out classed by his two instructors.

After the sixth time Harry regained consciousness, they called it a day…

…“Alright Potter, what we are going to attempt to do today is considered N.E.W.T level. It has
been referred to as *`defensive transfiguration**',* but all it simply is, is making
those objects which are inanimate around you, animate - to serve the purposes of either protection
or distraction or both,” Professor McGonagall declared sternly as she stood in the middle of the
basement training room and looked over her glasses at a confused Harry.

The basement training room looked at first to be similar to the room of requirement back at
Hogwarts, that is, empty until something specific was needed. Currently, there sat a large wardrobe
at one end to Harry's right, and a writing desk at the other to his left. The walls appeared to
be padded with heavy rolls of cloth, and the door through which they entered had disappeared. The
floor looked wooden, but felt spongy with every step, and the ceiling seemed to have recessed
lighting, much like his Aunt Petunia's kitchen. Other than that, the room didn't seem
unusual at all.

“I see by the look on your face that a demonstration is in order. Please retreat ten paces and
have your wand at the ready,” the Professor said, as she too removed her wand from underneath her
emerald green robes, and stepping a few feet back.

“Now, hex me Potter… if you can,” McGonagall stated as a small, challenging smile curled the
corners of her thin lips.

“B-but Professor, I can't attack you!” Harry sputtered; astonished that she would make such
a request.

“Please do Mr. Potter,” she replied somewhat impatiently.

Still uncertain, Harry raised his wand, hesitated for a moment, then pointed it at her and
yelled, “Expelliarmus!”

Just as the incantation left his lips, the Professor motioned her wand towards the wardrobe at
the far right of the room, which sprung to life and dashed in between Harry's spell and
McGonagall, effectively blocking it.

“There is a great benefit to this spell if you can master it,” she said pointedly. “Try again if
you please.”

“Rictusempra, Stupefy, Incendio!” Harry yelled in quick succession.

Just as the wardrobe came to life again, McGonagall pointed her wand at Harry yelling,
“Tarantallegra!”

The wardrobe threw its doors open and danced around catching the first two spells without
effect. Harry's third spell, however, completely incinerated it.

He motioned his wand up and down as he shouted, “Protego!” thereby blocking McGonagall's
counter attack.

McGonagall straightened, tilted her head to one side, and raised her eyebrows in mild
surprise.

“I can honestly say that I've never seen the Incendio spell have that exact effect before,”
she said, conjuring a duplicate wardrobe with her wand and setting it back against the far right
wall.

“But Professor, why transfigure the wardrobe at all? I mean, why not just summon it so that
it's in the way of the spell?” Harry asked, frowning. He reasoned it would be much simpler, and
besides, he already knew how to do **that**.

“I'm sorry Potter, I thought that to be obvious,” McGonagall answered wryly, “If you're
concentration and spell is fixated on an object during your defense, how are you supposed to
counter?” she questioned.

“Ok, you've got a point,” Harry replied sheepishly.

“As you may have noticed, by animating the wardrobe, and giving the specific instructions to
intercept all the spells aimed at me, I was free to return my attention to you and counter with my
own offensive spells,” she patiently explained.

“But how do I do that?” Harry asked, completely perplexed.

“It's no different than the tea cup exercises you do in my class, though the wardrobe and
table may be bigger, the principle remains the same,” the Professor encouragingly replied. “Shall
we give it a try then?”

“I suppose…,” answered Harry, a bit concerned.

He hoped he didn't make a complete fool of himself. He remembered that he could barely get
his teacup to stand, let alone move around on its own accord, whereas Hermione could make hers run
circles around his.

It would be so much simpler if he were allowed to dodge the spells instead, he mused.

“Tarantallegra!” yelled McGonagall.

Harry pointed his wand at the table, mentally ordering it to intercept the hostile spell; which
immediately came to life, tripped over its own legs, and crashed loudly to the ground. With nothing
to stop it, and no time to utter a defensive spell, McGonagall's struck him, to which
Harry's legs began moving about with a mind of their own.

This precise scene played itself out four more times in a row, and he was becoming completely
frustrated that he couldn't get the table to move without damaging itself. Now Harry's legs
were getting tired, and he felt he was losing his concentration.

“Finite Incantatem!” commanded the Professor, teetering on the brink of exasperation, “Honestly
Potter, must Ms. Granger be right next to you for you to get the…AAAHHH!”

Harry didn't understand what just happened. One second Professor McGonagall was lecturing,
the next screaming, and then, apparently, he passed out, only to wake up moments later with his
back to one of the padded walls in the training room, with both Moody and McGonagall hovering over
him - his vision blurry, and his head in an uncomfortable spin.

Harry's mood grew darker as the sudden realization that he had been stunned for the seventh
time in two days hit him. He was not growing fond of the experience.

“Here, drink some of this son,” growled Moody, “You'll pick right up.”

Harry recognized the vial as the same type of super Pepperup Potion Tonks had given him the
first day.

“What is the meaning of this Alastor?” shouted McGonagall, completely incensed.

“Preparing Harry of course,” answered Moody matter-of-factly as he straightened himself,
satisfied that Harry had sipped enough of the potion and was coming around.

“*Preparing*?” spat McGonagall, “*Preparing* for what exactly? You Disillusioned
yourself, hid in the corner of this room, and then stunned Potter with his back turned - in the
middle of my lessons no less!”

“Minerva!” retorted Moody in his gravelly voice, “The boy's got to be ready for anything!
Constant vigilance I say! Constant Vigilance!” he finished, yelling as he pounded one gnarly fist
into the palm of his other hand.

“Constant…?” started McGonagall in disbelief, clutching her chest with one hand and stepping
back, “Have you gone completely mad?”

“How else is he supposed to be ready? He's got to be aware at all times!” stated Moody
defensively.

“Why on earth are you wearing that ridiculous thing?” demanded McGonagall, completely ignoring
Moody's answer, staring intently at his disfigured face.

It was then that Harry noticed the black patch covering the socket where Moody's magical eye
should have been.

The old Auror contorted his face, scrunched his real eye even more than usual, and cracked a
crazed toothy grin. With his wild - scraggly hair flailing about, and wooden clawed leg, Harry felt
certain that a pirate's hat would have made Moody's look complete.

“Didn't Dumbledore tell you? Potter here can see magical objects, I would have given myself
away!” responded Moody the pirate rather proudly.

“I see,” said McGonagall, as she gave Harry the first true smile of the day, “Never the less,
four rolls of parchment detailing what we've attempted. I'll expect it by next week Potter…
”

“…Oh, I was so excited when the Headmaster asked me to instruct you in the fine art of Dueling!”
squeaked Professor Flitwick as he happily clapped his long fingered hands together.

He stood at one end of the training room, now devoid of furniture, and instructed Harry to stand
facing him at the other. For the first time, Harry really took a good look at the short Professor.
He unexpectedly had the brief thought that Flitwick might some how be related to the Goblins…

It didn't surprise Harry to see that the little Professor stood no taller than a few feet;
he came to the quick conclusion that his small stature definitely would be a strong asset in
Dueling - he simply presented a smaller target. He was surprised, however, at just how ancient
Flitwick seemed to be. His mannerisms and youthful disposition stood in stark contrast to both his
shock of white hair, and the wrinkles that lined his face.

Flitwick grinned happily and pulled his wand out from his brightly colored green-teal robes as
he hummed a strange, light tune. He pointed his wand about the room, causing the walls, floor, and
ceiling to give a faint bluish glow.

“An absorbent charm,” answered Flitwick, noticing Harry's questioning look.

He then brought his wand to his chest and played with the tip of it with the fingers of his left
hand, lecturing as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“The most important aspect of dueling is not simply dodging your opponents volleys, but in
knowing what the spell that is being cast actually is, and therefore, blocking, deflecting, or
altering it all together,” started Flitwick.

“I'm sorry Professor, but what do you mean by *`altering'*?” questioned Harry.

The old Professor looked up in thought for a moment, and then responded, “It involves the
varying degrees of spells. Some can be blocked, some deflected, and some altered. To block, your
defensive charm's power must be greater than your opponent's. If both your opponent's
and your defensive spells are of equal strength, then the offending spell will be deflected. If the
offending spell is of greater power than your defensive one, you will be struck. The key here, and
this is what separates the great Duelers form the average, is to alter the spell itself. If you
happen to be struck by a restraining charm, for example, you must override its basic command
structure to suit your own needs.”

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I see a demonstration is in order,” began Flitwick excitedly, “Please attempt to disarm me Mr.
Potter.”

Harry assumed his dueling stance and prepared to cast, the Charms Professor however, didn't
move at all.

“Expelliarmus!” yelled Harry, pointing his wand at Flitwick.

With surprising speed Harry didn't think Flitwick possessed, the old professor thrust his
wand in an up and down motion while muttering, “Protego!”, and the disarming charm became
completely absorbed by the shield spell.

“How about something a bit stronger this time Mr. Potter,” requested Flitwick pleasantly.

“Petrificus Totalus!” shouted Harry, aiming the spell at Flitwick once more.

Once again, Flitwick cast his shield charm, but this time, instead of Harry's spell being
absorbed, the body-binding spell ricocheted off with a low `twang' and struck the ceiling.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” Flitwick gleefully exclaimed clapping his hands together
once more, “Let's try something truly nasty now shall we?”

The old professor thought for a moment before excitedly stating, “Minerva tells me you're a
natural with fire charms! Let's have you set me on fire!”

If Harry never thought the little Professor entirely insane before, he surely would from this
point forward.

“P-Professor… I can't do that!” exclaimed Harry, horrified at the very idea.

“It's quite alright I assure you! It wouldn't be the first time you know!” he responded
confidently, “Go on!”

Harry felt sure he was going to regret this, maybe if he cast a small one…

“Incendio,” he mumbled softly, not putting any effort into the spell at all.

A small, pencil thin stream of fire escaped Harry's wand, easily deflected by Flitwick's
shield charm.

“Come now Mr. Potter, don't embarrass yourself so! How often do you get the chance to attack
a teacher?” he cajoled.

When Harry hesitated, Flitwick switched tactics.

“Pretend I'm Serverus,” he suggested, “We've all wanted to hex him at one time or
another!” he finished, covering his mouth with both hands in mild surprise.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at his Charms Professor as he dropped his hands and grinned
roguishly, twirling his wand with his long fingers.

“Ready when you are Mr. Potter.”

Might as well do as asked, he was a Dueling champion, Harry reasoned.

“Incendio!” yelled Harry.

Harry grew immediately concerned, though Flitwick had said he was ready, Harry didn't think
he was prepared for the ball of fire that hurled itself towards him at an alarming speed. He
watched as a wide-eyed Flitwick motioned his wand side to side, and then become completely engulfed
in flames.

Harry quickly panicked, thinking he had killed his teacher, but just as he started to run
forward, the flames surrounding Flitwick changed from a dark red and orange color to a white. Then,
to Harry's continued astonishment, Flitwick emerged unscathed from a plume of feathers,
breathing heavily, but smiling.

The Professor took a few steps towards Harry, then turned, pointed at the feathers still
suspended in the air and said, “See Mr. Potter, I altered your spell since I was incapable of
either blocking or deflecting it.”

The little Professor paused, bent over, and placed both hands on his knees. He took a few deep
breathes then stated, “Whew! That was quite the fire charm Mr. Potter; remind me not to be so
foolish next time! Now… let's Duel shall we?” he asked, straitening and smiling once more.

Harry didn't need to Duel with the Charms Professor more than once to realize just how
out-classed he was. Flitwick had easily disarmed, body-binded, jelly-legged, babbling cursed,
bat-bogied, twitchy-eared, silenced, petrified, and roped Harry in succession. All and all, Harry
felt this wasn't the best confidence building session he had ever had.

“I think that's enough for today Mr. Potter,” said Flitwick softly, “Just go over the
altering techniques you learned today with Mr. Lupin. You are a quick study young man; this is only
the first day. I had the same troubles with my first lesson. Now that you have been exposed to this
new way of Dueling, I guarantee a better outcome for you when we meet again next week,” he finished
encouragingly.

“Thanks Professor,” Harry replied, shoulders drooped, aching and worn-out, “I think I'll
just rest here a while.”

Flitwick gave Harry one last smile, then turned and left the room.

Harry fell to the floor and groaned. He lay completely sore, every joint in his body stiff from
the bombardment of hexes.

*`Now THAT was a workout**,**'* thought Harry ruefully.

A creaking sound from the corner of the room sent Harry's nerves into high gear. He sat bolt
upright and directed his wand to where he heard the sound and noticed the door had been left open,
possibly by Flitwick… but with Moody running around, he couldn't be sure…

He caught a shimmering movement out of the corner of his vision, and using every ounce of
reserve; Harry jumped to a crouched position, pointed his wand, and yelled, “Incarcerous!”

Harry saw the silver colored ropes shoot out of his wand before he passed out once more, only to
wake up moments later with his back to a padded wall in the training room, with Moody hovering over
him - his vision blurry, and his head in an uncomfortable spin.

“Here, drink some of this son,” growled Moody, still looking like a pirate and handing Harry the
same vial of Pepperup Potion.

If it were possible, Harry's mood grew darker still, as the sudden realization that he had
been stunned for the eighth time in three days hit him. He was not growing fond of the experience,
and now it seemed his left eye wanted to twitch uncontrollably…

“…Enough reminiscing Crookshanks,” mumbled Harry sleepily, quickly falling into a deep
slumber.

To which the ginger cat yawned, and gently pawed Harry's chest - as yet another gentle
breeze delivered yet another night of pleasant dreams, and the sweet scents of what Harry could
only describe as *`home'* …

16

-->



9. Dumbledore, and the Impossible
---------------------------------



**Chapter 9**

**Dumbledore, and the Impossible**

“Wow Crookshanks, it's really poring outside,” said Harry as he looked out his bedroom
window.

For being three in the afternoon, it was rather dark. Huge water droplets of rainfall hit the
patio cover beneath his room loudly. The occasional sounds of thunder, and bursts of lightening
flash, brought a small genuine smile to his face. The raw power and energy of a thunderstorm still
fascinated him, much as it did when he was younger.

Harry knew it to be strange; no one else he knew enjoyed this type of weather as much as he did.
But he always felt refreshed somehow, invigorated. He really couldn't explain it.

His room was a bit chilly, as he had not closed his window, so he quickly did his best to dry
his hair from the hot shower he had taken, and attempted to flatten it. He didn't know why he
always felt compelled to do so. He supposed it had somehow become forcefully ingrained in him by
his Aunt.

Dressing for the day's lesson, and already in jeans, he put on a long sleeved t-shirt and
threw the towel over the foot of his bed. He gazed once more out his window and watched as a couple
of neighbor kids ran and played in the rain in their back yard, throwing a tennis ball at each
other.

Harry recognized them as the brothers who lived directly behind him. They were about ten and
twelve, and he was quite surprised to see that they had grown considerably since last year.

Harry envied them more than they would ever know. They had never spoken to each other, but he
could see that they were very close, always together. He knew that no matter what became of them,
they would always have one another. And they grew being loved by their parents. Every now and then,
he would see them all out together, barbequing, swimming in their pool, or playing football.

Harry frowned at the last thought. He believed they were loved, because he could hear and see
how much fuss their parents would give about every little thing, and of course, there was all those
hugs and cheek kissing. But truthfully, he didn't really know what love was. He strongly
suspected that the only time he had ever felt love in his life was when he was a baby, when his
parents were alive.

Harry found himself wondering what love was. He had fancied Cho for a couple of years true, and
Ron kept teasing him about being *in love*. But if what Harry felt for her was truly love,
then he was sorely disappointed. He imagined having more intense feelings than he did at the very
least. He hadn't really even thought of her until now…

Even Ginny had fancied him because he was “Harry Potter” savior of the wizarding world. He would
never find a girl who wouldn't have some preconceived notion of him, expect him to be some
great hero he knew he wasn't. Maybe he could find a muggle born girl…

Harry couldn't help but laugh softly at himself. He removed his glasses, smacked his
forehead, and then rubbed the stinging sensation he had given himself vigorously. He couldn't
believe how ridiculous he was being. There he was, wasting time pondering the meaning of love when
he should be preparing to kill his mortal enemy.

He turned form the window, put his glasses back on and smiled at Crookshanks, who stretched and
pawed the covers of the bed.

“Do you think anyone will ever love me for *who* I am, and not who they *think* I am?”
asked Harry, running a hand through his untamed hair.

He didn't think it possible that a cat could roll its eyes…

Harry responded by scrunching up his face in utter confusion. He was just about to turn back
towards the open window when he was struck on the side of his head by, what he assumed to be, a wet
tennis ball - his glasses knocked askew from the impact.

“Ouch!” exclaimed Harry as he rubbed the side of his head and looked around the room, trying to
locate the offending ball. “Those kids, I can't believe they'd throw…”

Harry's mutterings were cut off by the spitting of Crookshanks at a small flying brown ball
of puff zooming about the room and twittering excitedly.

“Pig!” yelled Harry.

Harry was surprised to find that he was happy to see the little Scops owl, though scared at what
Ron's letter would say - Harry hadn't written to him at all so far this holiday. A feeling
of guilt crept into the pit of his stomach as he called for Pig to stop and get some water and
treats from Hedwig's cage.

With Crookshanks continued disapproving glares, the over-exuberant owl stayed as still as he
could on Hedwig's perch. Harry untied and unfolded the letter, then read Ron's easily
recognizable and untidy scroll.

*Harry,*

*How are you mate? I haven't heard from you in a while, though I did hear from Hermione
that you are `coping' (that's her word by the way).* *She's been sounding quite
the nutter in her letters,* *practically the whole thing* *about not getting you in any
kind of trouble. Why would I do* *something like* *that? And she's been writing to
Ginny a lot. I don't know what's up with those two. I get a couple of paragraphs and Ginny
gets a novel. What's up with that?* *And to make things worse Looney's been here for
the past two days!*

*Blimey Harry, she keeps staring at me all weird!* *Well, at least she laughs at my
jokes, she's the only one who does, as Ginny was `kind' enough to point out this
morning…* *And* *Pig's totally in lo**ve with her, you should see how strange he
acts around her. Last night when were all at the dinner table, Looney sat right next to me*
*even though* *there were plenty of* *other* *seats! I tried to move to another
chair but Pig kept circling* *the both of* *us like he was possessed or something! I
thought I was going to have to stun him!* *I mean really, Ginny's all weird,
Hermione's all weird, an**d* *Luna's all… well…* *I suppose she's always
that way… Geez Harry,* *what's gotten in to everybody?* *Even Mum's been a bit
off lately!*

*Anyway, h**ow are the muggles treating you? I could send over some pretty good stuff
from the joke shop for you to use on them if you like, just say the word mate! The Ministry
can't bust you for playing a joke on someone now can they!* *I wonder if some of the*
*really nasty stuff is illegal… w**on't hurt to try though will it? I'll see about
getting you some…*

*Did I tell you? Their* *joke* *shop has been doing great! Ginny**,
Looney**,* *and I have been helping them out for a* *few hours just about every day.
I**t's been nice to finally have some money of our own… Kate and Alicia have been*
*working there* *every day too. I overheard Fred* *and George* *the other day
saying they should all get a flat together, to be nearer to the shop. Eww! Do you think they like
each other like that?*

*Guess who else has been coming in every day. Neville! He just hangs around. I don't know
what he's doing there though. He never buys anything, so George finally put him to work the
other day, doing inventory with Ginny. Everyone seemed quite pleased with him when he did. I still
don't get it, and no one will explain it to me…*

*I saw Hedwig the other day, I thought you had written to me, but she went straight to Mum.
Mum then ran off to the apothecary. I* *figured* *Hedwig has been staying with Hermione
so… Do you suppose she's still taking potions `cause she's still hurt? I don't know
mate, should we ask her?*

*Mum says you can come to the Burrow tomorrow. Will you come? I hope so! Everyone's
looking forward to seeing you, and I need help!*

*Give your reply to Pig and chuck him out the window so he gets a good start (that's what
I do!).*

*Hope to see you tomorrow,*

*Ron*

Harry grimaced at the last bit. Was Hermione still taking potions? Why didn't she say
something to him about it when they last saw each other?

Harry had the brief thought of writing to Hermione to ask, but upon looking at Ron's little
owl, decided against it. There was simply no way that tiny bird, no matter how enthusiastic it was,
could make it to France.

He frowned once more in slight frustration, and silently vowed he would get to the bottom of it
one way or another…

Harry was grateful that Ron didn't once mention the fact that Harry had not written back to
him at all. He had felt a little guilty about it, but Ron seemed to have understood why, and had
written as if this was the first letter he had sent to Harry during the holiday. He grabbed a spare
bit of parchment and began scribbling a quick response.

**Ron,**

**It's good to hear from you.** **What makes you think your Mum going to the
apothecary** **was for medication for Hermione? Could it have been for someone else? I mean, she
still shouldn't be injured should she? I though Madam Pomphrey cured her. Do you think
Hermione's hiding anything from us? Surely she'd tell us if she was still hurt wouldn't
she? I don't know now, I'm really starting to worry about her. I hope it's nothing, but
be sure to ask her if you hear from her again ok? I will too.**

**Ps. I don't know what's going on with all the girls over there either, I'm sure
that you'll work it out. I will see you tomorrow if it's ok with the order.**

**Harry**

Harry re-read his letter, satisfied that he had asked all the right questions; carefully folded
it and attached it to Pig's leg, who was attempting to stand unusually still, as if to prove
that he actually could.

“Take this back to Ron straight away, and be careful out there, it's a bit windy,” said
Harry, who walked to the window with Pigwidgeon and gently tossed him out.

Harry thought he should have followed Ron's advice of throwing Pigwidgeon; the little owl
immediately plummeted to the ground, and Harry thought he'd have a hard time explaining just
how he had injured Ron's pet. As Harry winced from watching the inevitable impact, the tiny owl
gave a loud hoot and pulled out of its dive. He seemed a bit off balance at first, but with
surprising quickness, he managed to straighten himself and fly straight off.

He turned to Crookshanks, shook his head in disbelief at the ceaseless efforts of the little
bird, and said worriedly “Hermione would tell me if she weren't well wouldn't she?”

He didn't think a cat could look as if it wanted to slap someone either…

******

“…Now Harry, all you have to do is imagine what you like to happen, and then quite simply,
command it to be so,” said Dumbledore as he peered at Harry from across the kitchen table over his
half-moon spectacles.

Harry had already been at it for over two hours and he was beginning to feel inept. The
Headmaster had made it sound so easy, just focus on a steaming pot of tea resting on top of the
table, point the wand and *`command'* it into being.

After several failed attempts, the Headmaster's request of a steaming pot of tea - became
one of a teapot, which then became a teacup, which in turn became any cup at all. The only thing
Harry seemed to be able to conjure was the air itself.

Harry slammed his wand down on top of the table in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld, and rubbed
his temples in earnest.

“How am I supposed to do this without incantations or anything?” growled Harry in
frustration.

“Harry, magic has little to do with wand waving and words, it's all in the strength of the
mind,” Dumbledore patiently explained. “Words, like wand waving, are meant to be aids in
concentration only. They are the focal points of the spells that are to be cast. Surely, you have
noticed that not all the spells require incantations or such. In truth, no spell requires the use
of either. I hope to impart this very useful skill onto you.”

“But that just seems so impossible! I mean, I understand with simpler spells and all, but what
about the more complex ones?” demanded Harry, frustration quickly becoming the norm for him.

“Harry…do you remember the Duel between Tom and I?” asked Dumbledore.

“How could I forget?” retorted Harry.

“Did you hear either of us saying any incantations at all?” questioned Dumbledore.

“Well… no, I suppose not,” answered Harry, realizing what the Headmaster was getting at.

“Do you think, in the heat of battle, it would have been wise for us to have shouted out every
spell we cast at each other?” questioned Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course not,” replied Harry.

“We used, what you would call `complex' spells, but in reality **that** is a false
assumption, there is no such thing as a `complex' spell Harry. They are all inherently the same
thing - a projection of the casters strength of will and concentration, no more, no less. Our task
here together is to get you to see this simple fact,” stated the Headmaster.

When Harry furrowed his brow in concentration, Dumbledore continued, “If it helps, say the
incantation in your mind only and not out loud.”

“Ok,” said Harry, still unsure if this was going to work out or not.

“Let's start with something simple shall we?” said Dumbledore as he conjured a feather and
set it upon the table. “Go ahead and levitate it Harry.”

Harry pointed his wand, concentrated on the `swish and flick' motion Hermione had always
admonished, and in his mind said *“Winga**rdium Leviosa!”* and to Harry's mild
amusement, nothing happened.

He tried several more times, each time with identical results, until finally giving up for the
evening.

“I can't do this Professor. I mean, I'm trying, but I just can't get it,” said
Harry, grabbing and pulling his hair in complete irritation.

“It's quite alright Harry, I couldn't do this the very first time I tried either, that
is, until I realized that I had been trying too hard. Instead of concentrating on the end, I had
been concentrating on the means - perhaps you are doing the same?”

“Perhaps…” mumbled Harry, then quite suddenly he blurted out, “Is Hermione still taking potions
for the curse Dolohov gave her?”

Dumbledore looked as if he did not want to answer this particular question at all, but was about
to reply when he suddenly stopped and his eyes began to flicker in a most different and distinct
way. At that exact moment, the hairs on the back of Harry's head stood on end.

Harry raised his wand, intently focusing on the vague sensations coursing through the back of
his neck. There was definitely a presence, and something was certainly about to happen, Harry was
convinced that Dumbledore felt it too, but surprisingly was not reacting to it at all.

All of a sudden, everything began to happen in slow motion, as if Harry had slowed down time
itself. The door to the kitchen boiler flew open; Moody jumped out from a crouched position,
yelling something Harry didn't understand, though it was most likely a spell. And Harry jumped
just as quickly back from his chair, pointing his wand at his would be assailant, desperately
wanting to subdue him.

What happened next surprised both Moody and Harry, but apparently, not Dumbledore, as a thick
silvery rope shot out of Harry's wand and wrapped itself around a wide-eyed Moody even before
he had hit the ground from his initial jump. Now out of control, Moody went crashing face first
into the chair at the head of the table; wooden bits of the shattered chair were sent flying in
every direction from the impact.

Time appeared to have returned to normal just as quickly and abruptly as it had slowed. Harry
ran forward, hoping beyond hope that the crazy old Auror wasn't hurt.

“Professor!” yelled Harry as he ran forward to the end of the table -Dumbledore following from
the opposite side.

“Ooohhh,” Moody moaned face down, arms completely bound to his sides by what looked to be thick
strands of platinum rope.

Dumbledore bent down, quickly turned the old Auror over, and held him up into a sitting
position. Harry almost gasped at what he saw…

Moody's hollow eye was swelling and turning colors at a very uncomfortable rate. He seemed
to be out of it as he opened his good eye and stared blearily at Harry. He then cracked the largest
smile he had ever given to anyone in his entire life. It did nothing to sooth Harry's nerves
however; as it became abundantly clear that Moody had also lost several teeth from the unexpected
collision with the chair.

“Good job boy…” beamed Moody rather stupidly, before passing out completely.

Dumbledore conjured a stretcher and then levitated the unconscious Auror to it.

“Perhaps a call to Madam Pomphrey is in order,” said Dumbledore in obvious amusement, he then
waved his wand around the silver bonds surrounding Moody's wrapped up body.

Harry watched as nothing happened.

Dumbledore gave a start of mild surprise, looked briefly at Harry over his half-moon glasses,
and then repeated his previous wand motions over Moody's bonds.

Again, nothing happened.

“Professor…?” began Harry, puzzled at what Dumbledore was trying to do.

The Headmaster answered Harry's unfinished question by straightening himself and fully
facing him - eyes full of a twinkling, and a smirk, Harry had never seen before. He then opened his
mouth and pleasantly said, “Harry, would you be so kind as to remove your binding spell from
Alastor?”

7

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