Fawkes' Gift

First off, I want to apologize for having this up so late in the day. I usually manage to post around 4ish, but I got sidetracked today...having a good round of golf can do that to you. Sorry. ::sheepish grin::

It is time to return to the wonderful world of fanfiction, and this time with a brand new story.

Well, perhaps I shouldn’t say brand new, it is a sequel piece after all.

On that note, this is a sequel to What It Costs To Save The World, by Ahn Na Blue. The plot of that story is essential to understanding this one, so I strongly suggest you read it first if you haven’t already. That being said, I’m estimating this will be about 9-14 chapters long...not entirely sure, but I do want to have it done by the time I leave for Los Angeles on August 1st. If it’s not done by then, I’ll try to finish it once I’m all set out in LA, but hopefully that won’t be a problem.

So, as of right now, I have nothing else to say, except welcome, welcome, to another story at PK. Brought to you by your ever loving author, TGF2K of course ::wink::.

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Chapter 1: The Third Rise

The soft, low rumble of distant thunder caused the ground to shake slightly. A woman, hooded and cloaked, made her way along a forest path, shivering. She hated nights like this - cold, clouded, dreary, yet where the clouds were not heavy enough to rain. It almost reminded her of something...something she couldn’t remember.

It had been many months...years maybe (she had lost track), since something happened and her mind was ripped of something she knew was important to her. Dear to her. Grumbling, she continued to walk, following the path she had taken so many times by heart.

“Bloody tree roots,” she grumbled as she tripped and nearly fell over a large, old root sticking out of the ground in the middle of the path. Shaking her head, she continued on and thought about what had made her call the entire Order together.

A few minutes later she arrived at her destination, an old mansion, the very top of which just barely poked out above the forest’s canopy. Walking up to the front door, she knocked once, which prompted a small shutter to slide open.

“Password?” a cold male voice asked.

“Snaketongue,” she growled. The shutter closed and the door opened, revealing a man with sleek blond hair and cold, silver eyes.

“You’re late, Bella,” the man said.

“You know as well as any of us that my research takes precedence, Lucius,” Bellatrix said, lowering her hood, letting her black hair fall around her shoulders. “Has the meeting started yet?”

“We’ve been waiting for you to come,” Lucius replied, leading her up a flight of stairs. “After all, it’s rather tough to have a meeting when your leader isn’t present.”

“It will have been well worth the wait, I promise you that,” she said.

“You found something, then?” Lucius asked.

“You’ll be told at the same time as everyone else,” Bellatrix replied, allowing for no further discussion.

Bellatrix Lestrange never was one to care for Lucius Malfoy, or his family and their riches. It was only because he was the sole member of the Order who had space large enough for them to meet that she associated with him as much as she did.

They reached the top floor and Lucius opened the large double doors at the end of the hall and walked over the threshold.

Following him into the room, she saw twelve hooded figures assembled. It had taken a long time to gather everyone who was present together, but they had done it, thanks mostly to Lucius. The dozen people in the room were the last ones alive to carry the strange black tattoo on their left forearms: a skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. Together, the thirteen of them were the Order of the Snake.

“I know I’m late, and I don’t want to hear a word about it,” Bellatrix growled, addressing the room which quickly fell silent. “There’s good reason for it, and it involves our search.”

“What is it?” one of the hooded figures asked.

“In going over the enchantment calculations from the full-body scan we did on Rookwood, and in turn everyone else,” she began, pulling a large scroll from her cloak and unrolling it, “I discovered an inconsistency involving a very old version of the Protean Charm.”

“The alerting enchantment?” another figure asked.

“Yes, only this has been modified,” she said. “Along with a warning feature, this modification allowed those alerted to know the location of...someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” Bellatrix said, shaking her head. “I’m assuming someone who can tell us what’s happened. Why we all feel like there’s a part of our minds missing. Why we all bear the same skull and serpent on our arms.”

“Perhaps a leader of sorts?” Lucius asked.

“Perhaps,” Lestrange said. “All of our marks bear the same enchantment with the same modification. Because of the fact that we would all be alerted to the location of this person, I believe there’s evidence that we, in fact, may not have found everyone bearing the mark.”

“So how do we activate it?” one of the shorter figures asked.

“Wormtail, if I knew that, would we be standing here right now?” Bellatrix asked. “I tried touching mine with my wand, my hand, a drop of my blood...nothing worked.”

“But...” the man’s hood fell away to reveal Peter Pettigrew, almost completely bald. “I don’t see how it couldn’t be activated.” He pulled up his sleeve with his silver hand (something he still didn’t remember ever acquiring) and began to prod at the mark.

“Don’t be stupid, Wormtail,” Lucius said. “Bella just said there’s a way to activate it, we simply haven’t figured it...” He suddenly drew a sharp breath and grabbed his right arm convulsively before collapsing to the floor in agony. Quickly thereafter, everyone felt the same searing pain and were mimicking the action. Bellatrix, feeling the intense burning on her arm, pulled up her sleeve and saw the mark had turned a shade of glowing white. Suddenly, she heard a voice in her head.

“Tom’s. Reykjavik, Iceland.” Grimacing, she looked around the room quickly.

“Did anyone else just hear a voice in their head?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lucius growled, getting to his feet. “Somewhere in Iceland.”

“Do we have the Draught ready?” she asked.

“I’ll go get it,” a man said, and quickly got to his feet and sprinted from the room.

“Hurry, Macnair!” Bellatrix shouted after him. “Listen everyone!” she yelled, grasping everyone’s attention. “We don’t have time to nurse our wounds right now. When Macnair returns, we’ll all apparate to this...Tom’s...and get our answers once and for all.” They all nodded, and a minute later the man came running back into the room carrying a flask of black liquid with him.

“Here it is,” he said panting. “Are we leaving now?”

“No, we’re going to sit here and do nothing,” Bellatrix said sarcastically. “Everyone apparates on my count. Three...two....one.”

If anyone had been listening outside the door, they would have heard thirteen distinct pops from the other side.

=====

Bellatrix was accurate in her latest assumption that they hadn’t found everyone bearing the black tattoo on their arm; she had been incorrect in believing beforehand that they had.

Severus Snape sat calmly in his dungeons at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry silently stirring a thick, purple liquid in a cauldron. As a brief image flashed through his mind, he sighed and rubbed his temples.

‘My occlumency must not be as strong as it used to be...’ he thought to himself.

For two and a half years, Severus had been having memory flashes...at least he thought they were memory flashes...of a man he used to call his master. He knew in his mind that he never truly served this man, but instead fought to bring him down from power. Using his exceptional occulmency skills, he began to block out the images, feeling that these things were better left unknown to himself if he had indeed forgotten them in the first place.

Getting up, he gathered several empty flasks from his office’s shelves and lined them up next to the large pewter basin. He grabbed a ladle and had just dipped it into the potion when an almost familiar burning pain tore through his upper left arm. Groaning, he gently lifted up his left sleeve expecting to see the familiar black mark, but instead he saw that it had burned white. His mind shuddered as he heard an ethereal voice in his head, and seconds thereafter he passed out onto the cold stone floor.

=====

A hundred and fifty miles away in downtown London, large claps of thunder could be heard from overhead, along with the never-ending beating of rain against the cobblestone. Sighing, a boy of nineteen years turned over in bed and lay staring at the ceiling.

As far as he could remember, Harry Potter never had sleep trouble. Of course, he only remembered the past two and a half years of his life. He had been hit by a car while crossing the street (or so he had been told) almost three years ago. After lying in a hospital for a week, trying to figure out why he remembered nothing of his childhood and teenage years, the doctors dismissed him, telling him that he would never recover from his amnesia.

At the time, he was scared to no end. He had no idea who he was. He knew he was in London, and that his name was Harry Potter, but beyond that, he had no recollection of his past. And he had no money. So he sat under a dim streetlamp wondering what to do with his life, when he found five gold coins in his pants pocket. Amazed at his good fortune, he pawned them off to a local shop for a few hundred quid. Since then, he had managed to get himself a flat and a job working as a short-order cook in a local bar. He supposed he must have developed culinary skills sometime before the accident.

Harry sighed again as another clap of thunder sounded. Since his recovery, he hadn’t really dreamt of unnerving things. Usually, his dreams were about flying on a broomstick like in the movies, or about an old castle that strangely felt like home. His favorite, by far though, were the ones he would occasionally get about a beautiful woman with bushy brown hair. She seemed so...familiar...so loving.

But lately, nightmares had been plaguing his mind. Nightmares of a strange symbol made of emerald green stars, and two red, glowing eyes. Although he hadn’t really paid much attention to it, the thin, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was tingling constantly. If he really thought about it, he supposed it felt like a warning.

Looking over to his bedside clock, he saw that it read 4:45 AM. Deciding that there was no point in trying to get back to sleep, he swung his legs over his bed and stretched, wondering what to do during his day off. He was about to stand up and go to his bathroom when a pain unlike any other he ever felt before flared up inside his head, centered around his scar. Groaning, he fell backwards onto his bed and closed his eyes, trying to alleviate some of the pain. Before he could do so much as bring a hand to his forehead, he blacked out.

=====

“Who...who are you?” a thin man asked, standing wide-eyed behind a bar. He was facing thirteen hooded figures, the foremost holding a long piece of wood at arm’s length pointed at him.

“We bear the same mark that you do,” a woman’s voice spoke from underneath the hood of the leader.

“What mark?” the main asked, his dark brown eyes shining with more curiosity than fear.

“This mark,” the woman said, pulling up the sleeve of her cloak, revealing a black tattoo of a skull with a snake coming out of it’s mouth. Eyes wide, the man looked to his own left arm and the matching tattoo that was there.

“I don’t know where I got this,” the man said. “My friends told me I got pissed one night and hit my head. I don’t remember anything before a few years back.” The woman grinned sadistically and produced a flask containing a thick, black liquid.

“Drink this,” she offered. “And you’ll remember everything.”

“How can I trust you?” the man asked in a steadfast voice after a moment of consideration.

“We all have the same mark on our arms,” she said, looking at the dozen or so cloaked figures behind her. “You are a part of our group. Perhaps even our leader. We need to know who you are as much as you do.”

Warily, the man reached out and took the flask, swirling the contents around inside of it.

“What’s in this?” he asked.

“Phoenix tears, unicorn and dragon’s blood, and snake venom,” the woman said simply. “There are other things too, but those are the main ingredients.”

“Those creatures don’t exist,” the man scoffed. “Well, snakes do, but – ”

“I’m not a very patient person and I don’t have all the time in the world,” the woman said in a tiresome voice. “Are you going to drink that or not?” Giving one last look at the liquid, the man shrugged and downed the contents. The thirteen people looked on in anticipation as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Suddenly, a immense pain crackled in their minds, as if a spell was being broken. It lasted for only a few seconds, and when the pain dissipated, they looked back at the man who had fallen down and was laying on the floor of the pub, breathing in soft but menacing breaths. Sitting up, he flexed his hand and went into concentration before a long piece of wood like the one the woman was holding materialized in his hand.

“You have done well, Bella,” the man said, though his voice was now cold as ice.

“Master...you’ve returned to us,” the woman said, dropping to her knees.

“Indeed I have,” the man said, looking at her with glowing, red eyes. “And so begins the third rise of Lord Voldemort.”

Harry woke with a start, breathing heavily. Somehow...some way, through some strange twist of fate, Lord Voldemort hadn’t died as people supposed. And Harry remembered everything.

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I know it’s short, but it’s supposed to leave you aching for more ::laughs evily::.

A quick note before I go: I don’t know whether I’ll be able to update next week or not. I’m taking a short vacation in Philadelphia, which will be my last break before I move for good to LA. If I do update, it will be on Wednesday. Seeing as how I already have chapter 2 written, you may not mind that. Just keep in mind that the wait will be a little longer between 2 and 3. Adios!

I knew it was a good idea to do this sequel. I’ve already had several readers asking me to have their children...er...update as fast as I can. So I’m making this effort and letting you all have this one a little early. Just keep in mind that the update day isn’t changing, so Chapter 3 will be up the Friday after this one (nine days).

As of right now, I’d like to clear the air on a couple questions that were asked in reviews. I won’t be responding to reviews individually (unless I find exceptional reason to), so instead I’m just going to answer some major points that were brought up.

One: I’m not giving anything away about the ending. I have yet to decide whether to make it in Ahn Na Blue’s style, a nice happy ending, or my own personal flavor (those of you who read my trilogy will know that it’s a little bit of both).

Two: I had a few people complain about continuity involving the time loop. Trust me when I say I’ve got it figured out. Please don’t try and tell me how it should work. All will be revealed in time.

Three: The most popular question I’ve been asked is ‘how did Bellatrix make a potion to return the memories of someone (in this case Voldemort)?’. Yet again, all will be revealed in time, although I suspect the answer to this one won’t be closer until the end. It’s not that tough of an answer though, you’ll find all the pieces of the puzzle in Chapter 1 alone if you wanna hunt for them.

Four: Who remembers what happened? You will find out the answer to that in this chapter and the next one.

That being said, read this one! Enjoy and review.

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Chapter 2: The Return of Harry Potter

Harry collapsed to the floor of his apartment in a heap, trying to stem the flow of vomit threatening to make its way up his throat. Knowing that he wasn’t going to be successful, he crawled to his toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out all the memories and images that were flooding into the forefront of his mind.

“Give it back - it’s mine!”

“Yours? Who’d be writing to you?”

The letters...

“My name’s Ron by the way, Ron Weasley.”

Ron...

“Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore...

“You’re dead, Harry Potter. Dead. Even Dumbledore’s bird knows it. Do you see what he’s doing, Potter? He’s crying.”

Riddle...the Chamber...

...Fawkes.

Thinking of Fawkes brought a whole new slew of memories into his mind, each of them as painful as the next...but one stood out among all the others.

“Enough! Give the egg to me! It’s mine!”

Harry gently shifted Hermione from his lap, and stood, looking down at the egg in his hand, and seeing his face swirl in the mists, and Voldemort’s face as well.

“It’s mine!” Voldemort hissed again.

“No,” Harry said simply, facing him. “It’s ours.”

And then he smashed the egg against the stone floor. He heard a great wind, felt a great pressure building inside of his head. He could hear Voldemort screaming in agony, and heard Hermione shout, “Harry, I love you!”

Immediately Harry’s eyes snapped open and he shuddered as he suddenly remembered the girl who had been haunting his dreams.

Hermione.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He had defeated the worst Dark Lord in over a century only to have him rise again, empowered by his own minions. He had gone through hell and back to protect those he loved and cared about. He had given up his life to save Hermione. And now he had nothing.

So Harry Potter did the one thing he hadn’t done since he was five years old, when the behavior of his aunt and uncle had forced him into learning how to hide his emotions. He leaned against the cold, tiled wall of his bathroom and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

=====

Severus Snape stood in front of a house he had only once before entered. However, knowing that time was of the essence, he did not waste it standing in awe of the magical power that radiated from within the white walls. Instead, he knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” called a voice from inside.

“A friend,” Snape replied. The door opened a crack before opening the entire way to let the potions teacher inside.

“Is he here?” Snape asked the man who had opened the door, a middle aged man with greying hair.

“Down the hall.”

Snape nodded in thanks and proceeded down the long hallway of the house, magically expanded to be larger on the inside than on the outside. If he had been looking about him, he would have noticed that the candles that should have lit the way to his destination had burned down to their holders and extinguished themselves. Arriving at a large set of oak double doors, he knocked once.

“Come in,” a tired voice said. Snape entered and saw the familiar desk, with a high-backed armchair facing away towards the window behind it.

“I bring ill news,” Snape said.

“And somehow this does not surprise me,” the man in the chair said.

“The Dark Lord has returned.”

“Which one?”

“V....Voldemort, sir.”

The chair turned slowly around.

“I am sure you remember what this is,” Snape said solemnly. He pulled out a roll of parchment with a red ribbon and a wax seal on it, and handed it to the man behind the desk.


“All too well,” the man replied, opening the parchment and reading its contents. “The tale I wrote of those years ago.”

“The Dark Lord is back,” Snape said again, as the man finished reading the parchment. “The mark on my arm burned white last night for the first time in many years.”

“You are sure this is true?”

“Beyond any doubt, sir.”

The old man, who looked like time itself had woven its way into every wrinkle and crease on his face, sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“What are we to do now that he has returned?” Snape asked.

The man in the chair sighed again as a beautiful crimson and gold bird fluttered down from the rafters of the room and landed on his shoulder, singing softly.

“I am not sure.”

There was a very pregnant pause before the next words came out of Snape’s mouth.

“Woe betide the day that Albus Dumbledore does not know what to do.”

=====

Harry woke and groaned, his head and body aching in places he didn’t even know existed. He could tell through his closed eyes that it was already light out, and he shielded his face to help block out the morning sun.

Deciding that he was too sore from spending the latter part of the night on the floor to do anything at the present, he shed his clothes and made his way into the shower. Having the hot spray of water beat down on his neck did wonders to relieve the tension that had built up there, and he finally managed to clear his mind enough to realise that he had to take action.

“Where to start, though?” he asked himself out loud. As far as he could remember, he had no wand. Voldemort had it in the battle, and he didn’t remember anything after smashing the egg. He didn’t have his belongings; they were at Hogwarts.

“Hogwarts!” Harry shouted with sudden inspiration. “Dumbledore’s headmaster...he’ll know what to do. But how do I get there....?”

His mind raced furiously while he turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Sighing, he sank down onto his bed, not caring that he was still dripping wet. There was nothing for it, he concluded. It was the middle of July, the passageway to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters wouldn’t be open until September first, and damned if he was going to wait a month and a half to alert the wizarding world that Voldemort was back.

Then suddenly it struck him. He could floo. The Leaky Cauldron was only a few miles away...or so he remembered anyway. He wasted no time in gathering what little money he had, then exited his flat, ran down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, and promptly sprinted off in what he hoped was the direction of the tiny wizarding pub.

Half an hour later he arrived (albeit extremely out of breath) at an old doorway that blended in so well with its surroundings, he couldn’t help but think that no one else could see it.

‘But I knew that already...’ he thought to himself as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The Leaky Cauldron was still the same as he remembered it from all those years ago. Looking around at the surroundings, he saw that it was still as dark and shabby as it had always been. There were a few patrons scattered about, and smiling at the fact that he was back among familiar territory, he walked up to Tom the bartender.

“What’ll it be?” Tom asked, not looking up from the glass he was polishing.

“Erm...nothing actually,” Harry replied. “I was wondering if I could use your floo, Tom.” The barkeep looked up and squinted at Harry, a very strange look coming over the man’s face.

“Do I know you?” he asked confusedly.

“Uh....I’m Harry, sir. Harry Potter.”

“Don’t know anyone by the name of Potter,” Tom said offhandedly, as he resumed polishing the glass. That sentence alone took Harry by surprise.

“You...you don’t recognize me?” he asked.

“Should I?” Tom countered.

“Well what about my father...James Potter?”

“Hmm.” Tom looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Name rings a bell...poor bloke that got murdered by some insane muggle years back....he was your father?” Harry’s jaw dropped and he nodded dumbly. “Right sorry ‘bout that. I don’t normally let patrons use the floo, but you seem like a good one. Go right in through the back. Floo powder’s on the mantle.”

“Thank you,” Harry said graciously, though still reeling from the news that, instead of everyone ogling at his return, no one seemed to know who he was.

He walked into the back and wasted no one time going over to the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder. Not entirely sure if he could floo directly into Hogwarts, he stepped into the alcove and shouted ‘The Three Broomsticks’ while dropping the powder to his feet. Instantly the room whirled out of view and Harry felt the familiar spinning that he hadn’t experienced in years. Just when he thought he was going to be sick, the spinning stopped and he fell forward out of the fireplace onto a cleanly polished floor.

“Oi! I just cleaned that!” a familiar female voice shouted at him.

“Madam Rosemerta,” Harry said, standing up and brushing himself off. “I’m sorry.”

“Well don’t be sorry, clean it up,” she said placing her hands on her hips.

“I...er...don’t have my wand,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t have your wand?” she asked with a skeptical look. “How do you plan on getting anywhere in the wizarding world without your wand?”

“I...I um...I don’t know.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to make do then,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Go on and get out of here before I start to get frustrated.”

Harry, knowing that Madam Rosemerta could be comparable to Mrs. Weasley when angry, high-tailed it out of the Three Broomsticks and found himself standing on the main street of Hogsmeade, the great castle of Hogwarts looming in the near distance.

Not missing a beat, he promptly began walking towards the castle, and by the time he reached the great doors at the entrance, he was at a dead sprint. Not bothering to slow down, he ran the familiar route to the stone gargoyle and stopped in front of it as he realised he didn’t know the password.

“Erm.....Fizzing Whizbee?” he asked hopefully. The gargoyle remained motionless. “Lemon drop. Cockroach Cluster. Ton-Tongue Toffee.”

“What on earth are you doing?” a voice from behind him asked. Harry turned and saw the familiar figure of Nearly Headless Nick floating towards him. Figuring that the ghost probably didn’t remember him either, he decided to keep his true purpose quiet.

“Trying to see the headmaster,” he said. “I don’t know the password.”

“Bit odd for that kind of thing during the Summer Holiday,” the ghost said thoughtfully. “But the password is ‘Hogwarts, A History’.”

“Oh...” Harry said, slightly surprised at the password. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” the ghost said as he turned away. “Oh, but make sure you have a good excuse for coming. She doesn’t like to be disturbed during her afternoon work sessions.”

“She?” Harry asked.

“The headmistress,” Nick replied as he floated away down the hall lazily. Curiosity edging its way into the forefront of Harry’s mind, he turned back to the gargoyle and spoke, “Hogwarts, A History,” only to have the massive statue leap aside for him.

He ascended the stairs to the office slowly, stopping outside of the oak door when he heard two familiar female voices conversing inside.

“I’m...not sure about this,” one said....and Harry thought for sure he knew that voice too well.

“If you don’t want the position, I will understand,” another voice, older and more mature, said. “Though I have to admit, you are my first choice for the job.”

“May I think about it?” the first person asked.

“Of course,” the second said. “Though I would ask you make your decision within a few days’ time; if you turn down the offer, I will have to find a suitable alternate.”

“Thank you for the opportunity, regardless of what I decide.”

Harry heard the scraping of chairs and decided to knock on the door so it didn’t seem that he was eavesdropping.

“Come in,” the older voice said. He opened the door with a smile on his face, fully prepared to ask where he might be able to find Albus Dumbledore (since it was clear to him that he was no longer the headmaster), when he saw the person who was on her way out of the office.

It was Hermione.

It took all of his will power not to grab her and simply hold her against him, but he found his heart nearly breaking when all she did was smile politely at him on her way out of the office. He vaguely registered the sound of the door closing, but his mind was elsewhere.

‘She doesn’t know who I am...’

“Can I help you?” the older voice asked. Harry’s head snapped up and he found himself looking into the familiar face of his old Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagal.

“Profes – Headmistress,” he revised.

“Yes,” she said with a slight hint of impatience. “Can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find Albus Dumbledore.” McGonagal’s eyes narrowed at him appraisingly.

“And who are you?” she asked.

“Harry Potter,” he replied, praying that someone would remember at least his name.

“I’ve never heard of you in my life,” she said, looking down at pieces of parchment on her desk. “Albus is an old man who retired from the position of headmaster to enjoy some peace in the remainder of his life. I will not violate his trust by letting a complete stranger know where he is.”

“But –”

“No ‘buts’ Mister Potter,” she interrupted.

“It’s urgent,” Harry said quickly. The headmistress looked up at him.

“Oh really?” she asked skeptically. “So tell me, what is it that is so urgent, that you must come here to Hogwarts in the middle of the holiday, to ask me where Albus Dumbledore is?”

“A Dark Lord has risen,” he said.

McGonagal let out a derisive snort.

“I’m sure,” she said. “A new Dark Lord rises, yet no one except you knows about it. A likely story.”

“Professor, please –”

“It is Headmistress,” she corrected. “And I have already told you, I will not betray Albus’ secret by letting someone who has apparently no connection to him know where he resides. Now, if you have no further business, please leave my office.”

Harry wanted to protest, but he knew it was no use, partially because he knew that if he were in McGonagal’s position, he wouldn’t tell him either. Sighing, he turned to leave when a knock came at the door. He froze as the headmaster told the person to come in, hoping that it was Hermione again, but was disappointed (and taken aback) when he saw Severus Snape, his old potions master come through the door.

“Minerva, I’ve just come to inquire about whether you’ve filled the Defense....” he trailed off as he saw who was standing there.

“Professor?” Harry asked, praying that Snape remembered who he was.

“This is a private conversation,” he said with distaste. “Perhaps you could leave?” Harry’s hope dropped through the floor and he resignedly shuffled out of the office, closing the door behind him. Sighing, he sat on the top step wondering what to do when he heard Snape talking.

“What did he want?” he asked.

“He was requesting to see Albus,” Minerva said. “He told me a new Dark Lord had risen.” There was a considerable silence at these words before Harry heard Snape speak again.

“He is correct,” Snape said.

“What?” Minvera said, taken aback.

“It is true,” Snape replied. “But how could he have known about such a thing?”

“Go and get him,” the headmaster said. “Quickly, before he leaves the grounds.” Harry heard the quick sound of someone walking briskly before the door was flung open, revealing Snape.

“So you haven’t left yet,” he said. “Come back in here.” A small ray of hope blossoming in Harry’s chest, he followed his old potions master back into the office.

“I’m told that, in fact, a new Dark Lord has risen,” McGonagal said from behind her desk. “How do you know about this?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Harry said.

“Try me,” McGonagal replied.

So Harry told them. He told them everything from his life at the Dursley’s, to his years at Hogwarts, to Fawkes and the egg, right up to the final battle with Voldemort that had taken place in the very office where he was now standing.

“Sounds a bit stretched, doesn’t it?” he asked once he had finished.

McGonagal was looking at Snape, however, whose mouth was hanging open. “What?” Harry asked curiously.

“Minerva, I believe that Albus should be informed of this,” Snape said after a moment. “I do not know who this is...but his story does match the one Albus recorded years ago.”

“I know not of any story,” Minerva replied.

“That is because I am the one he gave it to,” Snape said. “And it fits perfectly with what this boy has just told us.”

“Is there any way of proving who this really is?”

Snape gazed at Harry thoughtfully for a moment.

“Yes,” he replied. “Potter, come with me. If that is your name.” He walked out of the office and Harry followed him with the headmistress close on his heels. The Potions Master led them all the way down to his office in the dungeons of the school, and once inside walked over to a very old cabinet.

“When the castle was cleaned out after all the students left for summer holiday three years ago, this was discovered in a boys’ dormitory in Gryffindor Tower,” he said, opening the doors. Inside, there was a dusty old trunk, with a broomstick standing in the corner behind it. “Dumbledore entrusted it to me, along with his account of the story. He believed that these were possessions of the one who had defeated the Dark Lord.”

“You?” McGonagal asked, looking at Harry. “You defeated a Dark Lord? You can’t be more than twenty.” Harry said nothing, he merely stared at his old possessions and raised his arm at them.

“Accio Firebolt,” he said. The broomstick instantly flew from the cabinet into his hand, and drawing a large breath, he blew all the dust off the handle. The letters were slightly faded, but he could still make out the word ‘Firebolt’ engraved in gold letters on the end. He walked over to the trunk and opened it, finding a familiar piece of parchment sitting on the top of the contents. Smiling slightly, he took it out and placed it on the ground next to his trunk before going through the rest of the things.

“Are you going to tell us what you’re doing?” Snape asked, once Harry had removed all the contents of his trunk and placed them in various spots on the floor of the office.

“Where’s my wand?” Harry asked.

“ I have no idea,” Snape replied. “If it’s not in there, I don’t know where it is.”

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated exceptionally hard on the piece of wood that he remembered to be his wand.

“Accio wand,” he muttered, barely uttering a sound. A moment later there was a snap at the door, the sound of something hard bouncing off the glass. Running to the door, Harry opened it and found his wand laying on the floor in front of it. He picked it up and for the first time in years, felt the familiar magic course through his body. Turning back to Snape he smiled.

“Tell me,” he said. “Who is James Potter?” Snape’s face turned green at the mention of his old tormentor.

“What does he mean to you?” the potions teacher spat.

“He was my father,” Harry replied. “Before Voldemort killed him.”

“He and his family, including his son, were murdered by an insane muggle nineteen years ago,” Snape replied.

“He was murdered, but it wasn’t by any muggle,” Harry replied, picking up the parchment next to the trunk. “Voldemort killed him, and tried to kill me but failed. And now he’s back.”

Both Snape and McGonagal looked as if they wanted to restrain him and call St. Mungo’s to have him taken away.

“You want proof?” he asked. “Fine.” Holding the tip of his wand to the parchment, he spoke, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Snape’s eyes flared as the names of the Marauders presented themselves and the map showed itself. A moment later, the map had finished drawing itself and Harry pointed at the section that showed the dungeons. Snape’s and McGonagal’s eyes widened as one of the dots indeed read ‘Harry Potter’. “Perhaps now you could take me to Professor Dumbledore.” Snape and McGonagal shared a glance before turning to Harry.

“Very well,” the headmistress said. “Come with me.”

---------------

There it is, and up two days early as well. Updates will now resume on Fridays, so you’ll have to wait until the 13th for chapter 3. It’s actually being fairly difficult to write, so the extra two days might do me some good. Ta ta for now!

After some consideration, I have upped the rating on this story to R. There are several dark and mature concepts that are discussed in this chapter, and I don’t think it would be appropriate for a PG-13 rating. Thanks for your understanding (and if you don’t like it, bugger off then) ::wink::. On with the story!

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Chapter 3: Dumbledore’s Decision

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, when instead of turning left towards the headmaster’s office, McGonagal made a right.

“Albus has a private floo connection outside of the ministry’s authority that directly connects the school to his residence,” McGonagal replied, not breaking stride. “Since such things are illegal, he thought it best to keep the entrance in a place where no one would ever look.” She stopped and turned to face a large painting featuring a silver bowl of fruit.

“The kitchen?” Harry asked as she reached out with her left hand and gently tickled the pear.

“It’s especially convenient, considering there is a house elf who travels back and forth so as to make sure Albus is always comfortable,” Minerva said stepping through the hole that now occupied the space the painting had just been in, Harry close behind.

“Dobby!” Harry exclaimed when he saw the house elf puttering about in the kitchen whilst cleaning a mug. Dobby looked up at him and the Headmistress.

“Headmistress,” he said with a smile, suddenly appearing at their side. He turned to look at Harry. “Dobby is sorry, sir. Dobby does not know who you are, even though you apparently know who Dobby is.”

“Er…that’s all right Dobby,” Harry replied, getting used to the fact that no one seemed to remember who he was anymore. “I’m sure you’ll find out eventually.” ‘I hope.’

“Follow me,” McGonagal said, walking off towards the back of the kitchen. Harry quickly followed her, giving Dobby one last backwards glance before turning all of his attention to the headmistress.

“Are you coming too?” Harry asked as they arrived at a fireplace.

“Of course,” McGonagal replied. “It wouldn’t exactly do to just have you show up with only that story of yours, now would it?” Harry shrugged as she produced a small pouch of floo powder from her robes. “Just follow my lead.”

Harry watched on as the headmistress knocked on the brick two above and three to the left of the upper right-hand corner of the fireplace. Immediately the fireplace roared to life.

“Who is it?” a voice emanated from the fireplace.

“Minerva,” McGonagal answered. “And someone who needs to see Albus. It’s urgent.”

“Very well,” the voice said. “Proceed.” The fire went out.

McGonagal handed Harry a small amount of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

“The sanctum,” she said and threw down a small amount of floo. Green flames sprang up around her and immediately she was gone. Harry sighed as he remembered how much he hated floo travel, but stepped into the alcove nonetheless.

“The sanctum,” he said clearly, dropping the powder at he feet. Harry arrived at his destination so fast he was sure he couldn’t have traveled more than a kilometer. The fireplace spit him out and he landed on the hardwood floor with a dull thud.

“Come on, then,” McGonagal said, pulling him to his feet.

She led him down a hall to a pair of large double doors. The headmistress raised her hand to knock, but stopped suddenly as a voice from within the room called out, “Come in, Minerva.” She moved her hand to the handles of the door and opened them inwards, revealing a beautiful study.

The walls were made of glass, while the wood floor was made of what Harry guessed was solid cherry. Looking up, Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he was told that the ceiling bore the same enchantment upon it that the Great Hall did. There were a couple bookshelves here and there, but aside from the desk and the chair behind it, the room was unfurnished. Sitting in the chair was Albus Dumbledore.

“I’m glad that you came,” he said. “Severus sent a message ahead to let me know you would be coming.”

“I see,” McGonagal said, with some annoyance.

“And you are Harry, I take it?” Dumbledore asked, looking at Harry.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Very well. Minerva, please leave us. I will let you know of any developments when we are done. I daresay Harry is going to have to stay with me for a time.”

McGonagal said nothing, she simply nodded and turned on her heel, quickly leaving the two of them alone.

“Sit, Harry,” Dumbledore said, waving his hand and conjuring a comfy armchair in front of his desk. “Tea?”

“No thank you, sir,” Harry replied.

“Very well,” he said, conjuring a pot of hot water and a mug that Harry saw held a tea bag. “We have much to talk about.”

“Do you know all of it already?” Harry asked.

“Most of it,” Dumbledore replied, pouring water in the mug. “But I am missing some of the more important details. Namely, why you and Tom Riddle are alive.”

“I couldn’t tell you that if I wanted to,” Harry said. “I wish I knew myself.”

“I do not know anything of you or Tom Riddle,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “Only what Severus Snape has told me.”

“What do you know?” Harry asked. “From what I know, Bellatrix LeStrange found both Tom Riddle and a way to restore his memories. It seems that when Voldemort drank the restorative potion, his memory was restored, along with all of his death eaters, which is why Snape remembers what he does.

“How do you know all of this?” Dumbledore asked.

“I saw it,” Harry said, pulling his bangs up to reveal his lightning-shaped scar. “When I was a baby, Voldemort tried to kill me but failed. This scar is what remains, and it binds me to him.”

“How very interesting,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “Do you remember what was in the potion that restored Tom?”

“Phoenix tears, unicorn and dragon’s blood….” Harry trailed off. “There might’ve been something else as well. I don’t remember.”

“Phoenix tears?” Dumbledore asked, surprised. “That is a useful piece of information.”

“How so?” Harry asked as Dumbledore looked up. A moment later a beautiful red and gold bird appeared high above them and flew down to land on Albus’ shoulder.

“Fawkes…”

“Oh, you two know each other already?” Dumbledore asked with amusement as the bird stared at Harry warmly.

“I don’t know if he remembers me, seeing how no one else does,” Harry said. In response to that, Fawkes hopped off Dumbledore’s shoulder and nudged the pocket where Harry’s wand was. Harry stared on in amazement as Fawkes then turned around and shook his tail at him.

“I think perhaps he’s trying to tell you something?” Dumbledore said with a smile. Harry took out his wand and Fawkes chirped brightly.

“The core of my wand is a tail feather from Fawkes,” he said.

“Then perhaps he does remember you,” Dumbledore replied with a smile as the phoenix started singing softly.

“Yeah.”

“If Fawkes remembers all that happened, then perhaps there is way for him to transfer this knowledge to me,” Dumbledore said, looking at the bird. Fawkes turned his head to look at him appraisingly. After a moment of this, the phoenix walked over to Dumbledore’s tea and cried two tears into it. Once this was done, Fawkes walked over to where Harry was sitting and bit him rather hard on the hand.

“Ow!” Harry yelped. “What’d you do that for?” His hand had begun to bleed.

Fawkes looked meaningfully at the wound before looking back over to the tea and chirping twice.

“Perhaps he means for your blood to be in the mixture,” Dumbledore said. “Two drops?” Fawkes chirped once in approval.

“Well…all right then,” Harry said, lifting his hand over the mug. “You’re sure about this, sir?”

“If my phoenix believes it is safe, then I trust him,” Dumbledore replied. “If one told me he was the most intelligent being on the planet, I would not be surprised.”

“Hermione might want to argue with that,” Harry said unthinkingly with a smile. When he realized what he had said, his face fell.

“Perhaps you could do this, so I may know why it looked like your heart just broke in two,” Dumbledore said, pointing at his tea. Harry nodded and held his hand over the drink while using his other to squeeze two drops of blood into it. When he was finished, Fawkes walked over to the drink and shook one of his wing feathers loose. He picked it up in his beak and stirred the drink.

“How remarkable,” Dumbledore said while watching with a smile. “He never ceases to amaze me.”

Fawkes finished stirring the drink and dropped the feather onto the desk while looking up at Dumbledore expectantly.

“Well, I believe the muggle saying is, ‘bottoms up’?” he said with a smile before downing the contents. He closed his eyes and brought his hand to rub his temples slowly while the mixture took effect.

“Are you okay, sir?” Harry asked.

“I will be,” Dumbledore replied. “All of these memories suddenly flooding back into my mind are making me a bit dizzy.”

“You’re remembering, then?” Harry asked extremely hopefully.

“A minute, Harry. Just give me a minute.”

He sat staring at Dumbledore for what felt like an eternity (even though in reality it was only about forty seconds), while Fawkes trotted over to him and cried on his hand to heal the wound. Finally Dumbledore sighed and opened his eyes, staring directly into Harry’s.

“Sir?”

Dumbledore stood and walked around from behind his desk, and showing a remarkable amount of strength for a wizard his age, pulled Harry clean out of the chair and embraced him in a hug to rival one of Molly Weasley’s.

“It is good to have you back again, Harry Potter.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Harry mumbled into Dumbledore’s cloak. “Could you let me go, please?”

“Sorry,” the former headmaster grinned stepping back, the familiar twinkle having returned to his old eyes. “Apparently we now have much more to talk about.”

“Sir,” Harry said.

“Albus, Harry, Albus,” Dumbledore corrected.

“Albus,” Harry revised. “I want to make it clear that my first priority is to rid the world of Voldemort once and for all. He’s caused too much damage to roam free.”

“It is clear to me that you have other priorities as well,” Dumbledore said. “I will understand if they are private, but could you perhaps enlighten me?” Harry sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“I need to make Hermione remember who I am,” he said quietly. At this, Dumbledore sighed.

“We should talk about Hermione,” he said. “There is much you should know about her.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?” Harry asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Dumbledore said. “It was really rather tragic.”

“But...she looked fine when I saw her in McGonagal’s office...” Harry said, eyes wide.

“She is fine now,” Dumbledore replied. “But she has only recovered very recently.”

“Recovered?” Harry asked. “From what?”

“Perhaps this –” Dumbledore retrieved a scroll from his desk. “ – will help you understand.”

“I don’t get it,” Harry said, reading the contents of the scroll. “This is you telling what happened after I smashed the egg.”

“Yes, well,” Dumbledore said, leaning back. “I was only partially right in regards to Hermione.”

“It says that she recovered from the Cruciatus Curse, forgot what happened...was sad...graduated with top honors, but never married...” he said reading from the scroll. “I’m confused.”

“Hermione graduated at the top of her class and never married, that much is true,” Dumbledore said. “But see the part where I said she was growing stronger each day?”

“Yes...” Harry said, squinting at the parchment.

“It was the other way around,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “She was slowly falling into depression.”

“Wha–?” Harry gaped.

“It is a terrible feeling, Harry, to feel as if half of your soul is missing,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sure you must have felt it too at some point.”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “I dreamt of her nearly every night, come to think of it. I guess that got me through the days.”

“Yes, hmmm...well I can say with certainty that she did not dream of you,” Dumbledore said seriously. “She tried to kill herself three months after graduation.”

“WHAT!?” Harry yelled, jumping to his feet.

“Calm down, dear boy, calm down,” Dumbledore said calmly. He waited a moment for Harry to settle back into his chair as tears started to run down his cheeks. “Fortunately, Ron Weasley is a much more accomplished wizard and friend than he lets on. He knew of her increasing depression and placed a ward on her so that if her life force was ever threatened, she would be held in a stasis while he alerted the proper authorities. It worked perfectly. He was able to bring the best mediwizards in the world to her apartment roughly two minutes after she slit her throat. Thanks to the stasis, she lost the amount of blood one would lose as the result of a paper cut.”

“I can’t believe this,” Harry sighed, wiping his eyes. “If I hadn’t gone and destroyed that blasted egg –”

“Then Voldemort would have it and we would all surely be dead by now,” Dumbledore said. “Including Hermione.”

“I suppose,” Harry replied with a sigh.

“Since her attempted suicide, Hermione has been in St. Mungo’s psychiatric ward. When the Transfiguration position opened up at Hogwarts when Minerva took my place as Headmaster, we both thought that it might be a good way to help take her mind off things.”

“So that’s why she was in the office,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied. “I do hope she will accept the position. It would be good for her.”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“So, now we must figure out what to do with you,” Dumbledore said appraisingly.

“Wait!” Harry exclaimed. “Couldn’t we just have Fawkes help us make that mixture and restore everyone’s memories?”

At this, Fawkes trilled loudly causing both men to look at him. He let out one long, quivering note before shaking his head once adamantly.

“I think he says that it’s not possible,” Dumbledore. “My phoenix-speak is a little rusty, but that the general gist of it.”

“You can speak phoenix?” Harry asked.

“I used to be able to, at any rate,” Dumbledore said. “Why isn’t it possible, Fawkes?”

The phoenix nudged the parchment telling of what happened after the battle with Voldemort and made an indent with his beak on the portion telling of Dumbledore’s connection to him.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said. “Yes, that would account for it.”

“What would?” Harry asked.

“Fawkes is my familiar, Harry,” Dumbledore replied. “It’s a difficult concept to explain, but whereas you and Hermione and soul-mates, Fawkes is my soul-brother. Does that make sense to you?”

“Sort of,” Harry said, looking at the phoenix.

“Good enough for the moment,” Dumbledore said. “Now, we were discussing your living arrangements?”

“Er...right,” Harry said.

“As it happens...” Dumbledore said looking through his desk. “The Defense Against the Dark Arts position is vacant.”

“What a surprise,” Harry said with a smile.

“How would you like for me to make a recommendation?”

“You want...you want me to be the Defense teacher?” Harry asked.

“Well you’re more than qualified,” Dumbledore said. “How about it?”

“Sure...” Harry said, still slightly shocked.

“Very good,” Dumbledore said brightly. “I will notify Minerva and make sure you get an interview shortly.”

“Th-thank you, sir.”

“Albus.”

“Albus,” Harry corrected himself.

“As for now, I think it best you stay with me,” Dumbledore said. “You might be a little...out of shape, given your absence from the wizarding world, and I think a little training wouldn’t be amiss.”

“Of course, Albus.”

“Come, Harry,” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet and placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let me show you to your room.”

---------------

A bit shocking about Hermione, I know. Please don’t yell at me about it just yet. Her story will be explained a little more in later chapters, so wait to flame me until then ;) . Until next week!

OMG Revenge of the Sith OMFGOMFGOMFG

Okay, now that my inner child has exhausted himself. Oh. My. God. Go see it. Even if you hate Star Wars (which I doubt many of you do), go see it. The special effects just will blow you away.

I am in apology mode for not having time to update on Friday this week. That stupid thing called real life interfered and set me back a few days. Just look at it like this: the next update will seem much sooner now. ::wink::

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Chapter 4: Hogwarts is Where the Heart Lies

“Excellent, Harry!” Dumbledore shouted from across the room. Harry was leaning over, hands on his knees, his heart beating much faster than what he thought was normal.

“And why...exactly...is it...excellent?” he asked, hyperventilating.

“I didn’t hit you once that time,” Dumbledore said, walking over to him. “Much improvement over yesterday.”

“You didn’t exactly warn me that you were going to start firing off jinxes at me yesterday,” Harry said.

“Constant vigilance,” Dumbledore replied with a smile.

“And making me run all over the place improves vigilance?” Harry panted. “Getting me once or twice would be enough, I have quidditch for stamina.”

“You had quidditch for stamina,” Dumbledore countered. “You’ll find that playing on a house team will be rather difficult once you start teaching.”

“If I start teaching,” Harry replied, standing up straight.

“You will,” Dumbledore replied. “I talked with Minerva today.”

“You did?” Harry asked.

“Yes. Come, let us talk about this over tea.”

Harry followed his mentor into the study where Dumbledore conjured a pair of cups and a teapot with a wave of his hand. Another wave and milk and sugar appeared.

It was now a week that Harry had been with the former headmaster, and the anticipation of whether or not he was going to be able to teach had started creeping up on him. That, and the anticipation of being close to Hermione again.

“Two spoons?” Dumbledore asked as he was pouring the tea.

“Yes, please,” Harry replied. Dumbledore scooped two spoonfuls of sugar into Harry’s cup and handed it to him. Albus added a small amount of milk and sugar to his own before sitting down behind his desk. “So...did she say anything?”

“She is rather skeptical about your abilities,” Dumbledore admitted. “But my word does go a long way these days. She will give you an interview, and if she feels you are acceptable for the job, she will hire you.”

“An interview with Minerva McGonagal,” Harry chuckled. “Now that won’t be difficult, will it?”

“Being pessimistic does not get anything done, Harry,” Dumbledore said wisely.

“I suppose not,” Harry replied in a down tone. There was silence for a moment while both of them sipped on their tea.

“What’s troubling you?” Dumbledore asked. “Hermione, still?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed after a moment.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Dumbledore asked. Harry shrugged.

“Part of it is the fact that she felt alone enough to want to kill herself,” he said. “I know if I hadn’t done what I did, we’d all be dead. That doesn’t lessen the fact that I feel somewhat responsible.” There was a pause as the former headmaster considered this.

“You know, for the first time in many years, I can think of no appropriate answer for a statement like that,” the headmaster replied. “You did what was right, what was needed to be done.”

“Over these past few days though,” Harry said, “I can’t help wondering what would have happened if we had all died at the hand of Voldemort. You said yourself that death is nothing but the next great adventure.”

“Ah, but I am one of few who are actually of that belief,” Dumbledore said. “Many people fear death wrongfully.”

“Is it wrong to fear losing those you love?” Harry asked.

“Not in the least,” Dumbledore replied. “But many people fear death for themselves, not for others. It is truly one of the saddest flaws of the modern world.”

“Modern world?” Harry asked.

“People weren’t so self-absorbed in the old days,” Dumbledore said. “Only in the past six or seven decades have they started to think like that. Since Grindelwald, actually.”

“Why Grindelwald?” Harry inquired.

“How much do you know about him?” Dumbledore asked.

“Only that you killed him,” Harry replied. Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

“You’ll find that although not all Dark Lords share the same views, they all share the same goal: absolute power.”

“You mean immortality,” Harry stated.

“Yes...and no,” Dumbledore answered. “Absolute power is to be able to control everything around you to such an extent where you get whatever you want, whenever you want, no questions asked. Once you achieve that, then immortality seems like a reasonable goal.”

“But Voldemort –”

“One of Voldemort’s flaws, perhaps his most exploitable, is that he truly believes that he is right, no matter what the subject. Although I think what happened in Godric’s Hollow all those years ago probably put him in his place a bit,” Dumbledore interrupted with a small smile. “He thinks that immortality should come first, and then he can go about conquering the world without resistance. He fails to recognise that there is a very noticeable difference between immortality and invincibility.”

“Being?” Harry asked.

“To be immortal only means you cannot die,” Dumbledore said simply. “Quite a bit off from not even being able to be harmed.”

“So then, wouldn’t the optimal scenario be to let him think he’s invincible and then capture and strip him of his powers?” Harry asked.

“It would, if Tom Riddle was even capable of becoming immortal,” Dumbledore said. “But cheating death is such a feat that only one in history has ever accomplished it, and it was with help.”

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Do you need to ask that question?” Dumbledore returned with a smile.

“Me,” Harry sighed after a moment.

“Quite right,” Dumbledore said.

“What about Flamel?”

“Nicolas only succeeded in prolonging his death. He did not cheat it entirely.”

“But the curse rebounded on Voldemort,” Harry said. “How could I be the only one to have cheated death if he lived through his own Avada?”

“The killing curse is fueled by nothing but pure hatred and the desire to kill,” Dumbledore said. “Your mother showed unconditional love when she sacrificed herself to save you. Thus, when the curse rebounded upon Voldemort, it had been touched by her love, and was therefore no longer pure. The fact that the curse was able to do what it did to Voldemort, given the impurity, is simply a testament to his raw power. Being the heir of Salazzar probably has something to do with it also. Getting back on topic though, Tom Riddle has never even come close to achieving immortality, even though he believes he has. It was because of your mother’s love that he lived that night, not his own magical ingenuity.”

There was silence for a minute or two while Harry let these words sink in. Dumbledore simply sat behind his desk and sipped at his tea while Harry thought.

“But we’ve gotten off topic,” Dumbledore said. “We were talking about why Grindelwald sparked the wave of selfishness that still exists today.”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Well, like I said, Grindelwald was trying to go about attaining absolute power the right way, by conquering first. He was really vicious when it came to dealing with those who opposed him. Especially when they were families or couples. He would force one person at wand-point to kill off everyone else, and then he would murder the last remaining person. Less messy, apparently.”

“That’s horrible,” Harry said shaking his head. “Don’t tell me people actually killed their own families trying to save their own skins?”

“That’s precisely what I’m telling you, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“Why would anyone ever do such a thing?!”

“There were two reasons for it,” Dumbledore said. “The first reason was that the people who didn’t do it the way Grindelwald wanted them to, died much worse deaths than the ones who did. He invented his own form of torture, similar to that of the Chakra. Are you familiar with that?”

“Not really,” Harry replied.

“In short, it involves probing the nine energy centers of the body in such a way to cause extreme pain while keeping the victim alive.”

“Energy centers?” Harry asked.

“Like the heart, lungs, or genitals,” Dumbledore said. “Suffice it to say, ‘Crucio’ would have been a more pleasant way to go for those people. The other reason, though not as influential, was that not all love is as pure as yours is for Hermione. People could exist without those they love, unlike you two. And Lily and James, to make a point. The combination of those two reasons, along with the fear Grindelwald struck in the hearts of the millions he affected has still carried over to this day.”

Harry sighed and leaned back in the armchair. They sat in a comfortable silence for about a minute and then Harry asked, “How did you kill Grindelwald?”

“It was a rather nasty affair,” Dumbledore admitted. “There were some complicated potions involved, but mostly it involved my spell deflecting one of his curses back at him. I killed him rather quickly after that.”

“Did you use the killing curse to kill him?” Harry asked.

“...No, and for right now, that is not something I wish to talk about,” Dumbledore said. “Suffice it to say, I wanted him to suffer for what he had done.”

Harry understood that part of the conversation was over, and was about to open his mouth to ask another question when Fawkes appeared on the desk with a loud bang, causing Harry to spill his tea all over himself. Dumbledore, however, remained stoic as though expecting it.

“I see it is time for us to part for the day,” Dumbledore said with a smile while waving his wand to dry Harry’s pants and shirt. “Fawkes will take you to Minerva’s office now.”

“I’m doing that interview now?” Harry asked, mouth slightly agape.

“You will need time to prepare a course load and select a suitable book,” Dumbledore replied with a smile. “It’s almost August as it is.”

“Er...all right,” Harry said hesitantly as Fawkes shook his tail at him.

“Good luck, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“Thanks,” he replied. With a deep breath he grabbed onto Fawkes’ tail and disappeared with another loud bang.

=====

He landed in a soft armchair in front of the headmistress’ desk. He gave Fawkes a quick nod of thanks and could’ve sworn that the phoenix winked at him before disappearing.

“Glad to see you’re at least punctual,” a stern female voice from behind him said.

Harry turned his head around and saw McGonagal peering over the top of her spectacles at a series of books in one of the bookshelves.

“Er...sorry about the loud entrance,” Harry said, not sure of what else to say. McGonagal, however, waved him off.

“Nonsense,” she said. “What with Albus popping in and out of here almost every other day, one gets used to it. Ah, there it is.” She smiled and pulled a dusty old book from the shelf. “Here you are dear.”

“Thank you,” another female voice, although much softer, replied. Harry jumped at the realisation that there was someone else in the room, and his heart nearly stopped altogether when he saw who it was.

“You’re quite welcome, Miss Granger,” McGonagal replied. “And off the record, I’m personally quite glad to have you teaching here.”

“Thank you, Minerva,” Hermione replied.

“Oh, I don’t believe the two of you have been introduced,” Minerva said, motioning Harry to come over to them. Shakily, Harry stood and was thankful his legs didn’t give out from under him as he walked over to the two women. “Hermione Granger, Harry Potter.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hermione said with a smile that made Harry want to melt into the floor. Instead, he composed himself and took her hand.

“You too,” he replied with a shaky smile. He expected Hermione to let go of his hand, but instead she held on, giving him a very appraising look.

“Do I...know you?” she asked, cocking her head to the right. Harry had to restrain himself from gasping when he saw the three-inch long scar on the left side of her throat.

“I...I don’t think so,” he choked out.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked concernedly. “You just paled there considerably. Perhaps he should go see Poppy.”

“No, I’m okay,” Harry said quickly, turning to face McGonagal, who was standing there with her arms crossed. “Really, I am.”

“Well, all right,” Hermione said. “Nice to have met you, Harry.”

“You...you too.”

He stared at the back of her head longingly as she turned around and walked out of office, closing the door behind her. A moment later he heard a slight cough and turned to face McGonagal who was giving a the same appraising look that Hermione had, only much colder.

“Care to explain that?” she asked

“I...no,” Harry said decisively. “Sorry, I just thought I remembered her from my former life.”

“You thought you remembered her?” McGonagal asked walking around behind her desk and sitting down. “Albus told me your entire story, Harry.”

“You believe him?” Harry asked, slightly surprised.

“An old fool, he may be,” McGonagal replied with a smile. “But he is not senile, and I doubt he ever will be.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “It’s difficult seeing her again. She has absolutely no idea who I am.”

“I hope she will not be a detriment to your teaching here?” the headmistress asked.

“My teaching?” Harry asked, surprised. “You’re already giving me the job?”

“I must say, you certainly seem qualified enough, given what Albus has shown me in his pensieve,” McGonagal asked. “My only question to you is do you think you’ll be able to concentrate with Miss Granger so close to you all the time?”

“I do indeed,” Harry said with a smile.

“How do you plan on doing that?” Minerva asked curiously.

“If I plan on getting her to fall in love with me again, I’ll have to be able to show her that I know how to properly teach a class,” he said with a smile.

McGonagal stared at him with a steely expression for a while, and for a moment Harry thought he had said the wrong thing. However, a moment later her expression softened and she held out her hand to him, which he shook.

“Good answer,” she said. “Welcome to the staff.” Harry released the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

“Thank you very much,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll let Albus know to transfer your things to the teacher’s quarters,” McGonagal said. “The entrance is in the East Tower, under the painting of Merlin. Tap the second block under the center of the painting to get in. You’ll be in room five.”

“Thank you very much,” Harry said appreciatively.

“Now be off,” McGonagal said. “You need to start on a lesson plan right away.”

“I will, headmistress.”

“Oh, and Harry?” Harry stopped on his way out and turned around. “You may feel free to call me Minerva.” Harry said nothing in reply, he only smiled and nodded as he walked down the stairs to the hallway below.

Harry nearly skipped all the way to the East Tower and wasted no time in tapping the correct block to gain entrance to professors quarters. He spent a minute looking around at the common room he was in; it looked similar to the Gryffindor common room in most respects, with the exception of having beautiful oak doors line the circular wall. Each had a small gargoyle holding a number above them. Harry quickly walked over to number five and put his hand on the knob.

“Password?” a gravelly voice above him said. Harry jumped back and looked up to find the gargoyle staring him in the face.

“Password?” Harry asked. “Er...I don’t know.”

“Then you can’t get in.”

“But this is my room,” Harry explained. “I was just hired here, no one told me the password.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Look, if I wasn’t a professor here, how would I know how to get into the professors quarters anyway?” he asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

“Ugh, let me in you infernal stone.”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“What’s going on out here?”

Harry jumped a foot in the air and spun around to find Hermione’s head peeking out from the door directly to the left of his.

“I...I, er...the headmistress hired me and gave me this room, but it wants a password and I don’t know it.”

“Oh, honestly,” Hermione huffed stepping outside of her room. “Haven’t you ever read Hogwarts, a History?”

Harry couldn’t stop the wide grin that appeared on his face at hearing the famous question again. Hermione, though, looked at him as if he were about to have a stroke. Realising he couldn’t stand there smiling like an idiot, he shook his head.

“Well, you have to create a password for it,” she said pointing to the gargoyle who just looked on in annoyance. “If it’s the first time, whatever you answer for the password will be the one you use all the time. Unless you change it, of course.”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a smile. He turned to face the gargoyle and opened his mouth to speak when Hermione spoke up.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “You don’t want to let me hear it, do you? Let me go back inside my room and give you some privacy.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry said truthfully. “I may not have read Hogwarts, a History, but I trust everyone who teaches here.” Hermione smiled at him and watched on in amazement as he turned back to the gargoyle.

“Password?” it huffed.

Harry thought for a moment and then smiled.

“Chudley Cannons.”

The gargoyle rolled it’s eyes at him but nodded all the same. Smiling he reached out to grab the doorknob and opened the door to his room. He turned back to Hermione who was still watching him with rapt attention.

“Thanks for that,” he said with a smile.

“Hmm? Oh, you’re welcome,” Hermione said, blushing slightly.

‘I know that blush,’ Harry thought. ‘She does that whenever she’s been caught doing something she’s not supposed to be doing.’

“You’re blushing,” Harry stated with a grin. This caused her to blush even harder.

“Oh...I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“Were you...staring at me?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Well, I...I...you just look so bloody familiar!” she said, frustrated.

“If it’s any consolation, I think I’ve met you somewhere before,” Harry said, enjoying just being able to talk normally with Hermione again. That feeling was quickly dismissed, though, as the two of them fell into an awkward silence. “Well, I’ll just be going then.”

“Wait,” Hermione said quickly. “Would...would you like to work on a lesson plan together, or something? I think it would be a great idea if we could come up with something for the sixth or seventh years that combined both Transfiguration and Defense.”

“Like animating something to block a curse for you,” Harry said, remembering the Department of Mysteries incident from four years prior.

“Exactly!” Hermione said, excited.

“I think I could fit you in somewhere,” Harry said casually, but with a smile.

“Then does tomorrow fit into your schedule?” Hermione asked.

“That would be great,” Harry replied.

“I guess I’ll see you then,” Hermione replied with a smile, closing her door softly.

Harry could barely contain his elation as he jumped into his room and fell onto the bed. Staring up at the hangings of what seemed to be a very familiar four-poster, he gave a sigh of relief.

‘Well,’ he thought to himself. ‘I guess I’m home again.’

---------------

And there it is. I think this story is going to be longer than I had originally anticipated. I’m guessing somewhere between 12-15 chapters now. More story for you all to read then! Again, sorry about the late update, and assuming there are no problems, I’ll be ready for the 27th, back on schedule. Until then!

I had some more ‘popular questions’ this chapter and thought I’d address two of them. The first is whether or not Ron will be in the story, and the answer is yes, in time, he will be. Not for a little while though, at least not until the school year starts.

The other is a two-part question, will Hermione regain her memory and when will she and Harry get back together. As of right now, I know the EXACT point in time (in the story) that Hermione will remember her memory, and no, I’m not telling. I’ll give you a clue that when and how it happens is basically the answer to the overall plot (aside from Tommy boy, of course). As for when she and Harry get together...well, you’ve already seen some sparks start to fly. I’ll just leave it at the fact that it simply continues to get better. ::wink::

This is the chapter where we start to get the ball rolling. I’ll give you all fair warning, the ball stops at the edge of a cliff in this one. Just letting you know. ::evil cackle::

---------------

Chapter 5: The Good Old Days

Harry started slightly when he was disturbed from going over the lesson plan he and Hermione had developed for the sixth years by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Harry said with a smile, having a feeling who it was. The smile diminished slightly, however, when he saw that it was Dumbledore, and not Hermione, who was carefully closing the door behind him.

“You perhaps thought I was Miss Granger?” Dumbledore asked amusedly as he sat on Harry’s four-poster, seeing the slight fall on his face.

“Is it that obvious?” Harry asked with a chuckle.

“Love is quite obvious to all those around it,” Dumbledore replied sagely. “I assume you are wondering why I’m here.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Harry replied with a nod.

“Well, I wanted to see how you were doing,” Dumbledore answered. “It has been only a few days since you’ve returned, and I wanted to make sure that nothing was amiss.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Dobby might have misplaced some of your belongings, perhaps,” Dumbledore said with a shrug. “Remember, you are not Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. To him, you are simply Harry Potter, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“True,” Harry acquiesced.

“So how have your three days here been?” Dumbledore asked. “Fairly good, I take it?”

“In truth, much better than I ever could have expected,” Harry replied in earnest.

“Hermione has been very receptive, then?”

“To say the least,” Harry answered. “In all the years I knew her, she was never as warm and open to strangers as she’s been to me.”

“Perhaps she was,” Dumbledore said. “And you just didn’t know it.”

“She was with Ron and me for eighty percent of every day we were here,” Harry replied. “When would she ever have had time to meet strangers?”

“She certainly got on well enough with Viktor Krum, did she not?” Dumbledore asked. Harry opened his mouth to reply and then realised the former headmaster had a point. “And just because she kept in contact with you and Ron every summer doesn’t mean that she didn’t meet people on her own.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Harry said slightly downcast.

“Do not fret, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Her kindness and openness is one of her most astounding qualities.”

“Yeah...I know.”

“I think, perhaps, that you being the missing part of her soul that she has long searched for may also contribute to her warmness towards you,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

“It’s not like she knows my story or who I am, though,” Harry countered.

“Who says she needs to know?” Dumbledore asked. “The fact of the matter is that you two belong together, and although her brain does not yet know you well enough to accept that fact, her heart is already heading down that path.”

“Is there any chance that she’ll ever remember?” Harry asked.

“I have been trying to get Fawkes to shed some light on things, but he seems to have his beak sealed on the matter for right now. I think if you asked him it might give better results.”

“How could I talk to him?” Harry asked. “I don’t know phoenix.”

“I think you might be inaccurate in that assessment,” Dumbledore replied. “You did, after all, understand the phoenix song in your fourth year when dueling with Voldemort.”

“I suppose I did,” Harry replied.

“You have the ear for it, being who you are,” Dumbledore said. “If you try, you will understand it without effort.”

“What do you mean, being who I am?” Harry asked.

“Given the magical aptitude and power that you have, does it really surprise you?” Dumbledore asked, although Harry thought it was slightly hesitantly.

“I guess not,” Harry sighed. Dumbledore smiled.

“Good. Well now that I know everything is in order, I must be off,” he said as he stood. “Now that Voldemort has returned, I feel it won’t be long until his first attack.”

“Will the Order be re-assembled?” Harry asked.

“Seeing that no one remembers Voldemort in the first place, I highly doubt anyone remembers the Order,” Dumbledore replied. “But while I am here, I shall speak with Severus and see if he remembers any of it.” Harry nodded. “Good luck, then, Harry.”

“Thank you, Albus.”

Harry went back to staring at his lesson plan as Dumbledore opened the door and stepped outside. The sound of voices reached Harry’s ears as the door started to close, and so he tuned them out so he could continue his work.

“Here to see Miss Granger, I assume?” Harry vaguely registered that it was Dumbledore speaking as the door shut.

“Yeah,” came the muffled reply. “I’m glad she took the job. It’ll be good for her.”

“Indeed it will, Ronald.”

Harry’s head instantly snapped up. Turning around, he looked at the closed door of his room and heard Ron knock on Hermione’s. A moment later he heard her voice followed shortly thereafter by the sound of a door close. He immediately stood up and ran to his door, opening it slightly and peeking to see if anyone was out there.

He found Dumbledore staring at him with the familiar twinkle in his eye.

“Perhaps you should work out here,” Albus said with a grin. “After all, being in a small room for too long can tire one’s mind.”

“Excellent idea,” Harry replied, catching on. “I’ll just and go and grab my work then.”

By the time he returned to the teachers’ common room, Dumbledore was gone.

=====

Harry sat in the common room with his eyes transfixed on the same spot of the parchment for about an hour before the door to Hermione’s room finally opened. Pretending to check and see who it was, he turned his head around slightly and saw Hermione and Ron in a friendly hug.

“Oh. Harry,” Hermione said brightly, seeing him. “I didn’t see you there. How come you’re working out here and not in your room?”

“Too hot,” he quickly improvised.

“You could’ve opened a window,” she suggested.

“Too stuffy,” he clarified.

“You still could’ve opened a window,” Hermione replied with a small chuckle.

“I just wanted some fresh air,” Harry said almost pleadingly.

“And does opening a window not accomplish –”

“Hermione, leave the poor guy alone for Merlin’s sake,” Ron interjected with a smile. “I’m Ron Weasley, by the way.”

“Harry Potter,” Harry replied, standing up and extending his hand, which Ron shook.

“Harry’s the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Hermione said.

“Oh really?” Ron asked, amused. “They tell you about the curse that job has?”

“Ron!” Hermione hissed.

“I’ve heard of it,” Harry replied with a smile. “Something like no one being able to keep the position for more than a year on end?”

“Since my first year, actually,” Ron answered.

“Chap named Quirrell, right?” Harry asked, having some fun with this.

“Yeah...” Ron replied, slightly impressed.

“What happened to him again?”

“Disappeared,” Ron answered. “Just disappeared one day with about a week left in the term. No one’s seen hide or hair of him since.”

“Pity, I would’ve liked to meet him,” Harry asked, feeling that he might be able to learn a bit here. “What about the others?”

“Well there was this absolute nut we had in our second year,” Ron said. Hermione smacked him on the arm.

“He was not a nut,” she said. “He was just a bit...unbalanced.”

“Only disappeared like Quirrell and came back not remembering who he was,” Ron finished.

“Lockheart, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron replied. “Third year we had our best teacher of all seven, chap by the name of Lupin. He was a werewolf though, and when everyone found that out he had to resign.”

“Ah.”

“Poor bloke got murdered in his sleep a few years later,” Ron said remorsefully, and Harry suddenly remembered the scene in the quidditch locker room where he had found Remus dead with the note threatening Hermione’s life pinned to his cloak.

“Then we had some really bad ones,” Ron continued, unaware of Harry’s change in demeanor. “A psycho posing as the person who was supposed to be teaching us...then the Ministry sent someone over but she got chased away by centaurs...sixth year, the poor chap passed away in his sleep one night, and in our seventh year Dumbledore himself filled the position. Since then it’s just been three simple witches or wizards who have all resigned after one year because they couldn’t handle the students.”

“Sounds like a tough job,” Harry said.

“It certainly appeared so,” Ron replied. “I hope you have better luck than they do.”

“I hope so,” Harry said.

“Harry, do you think I could borrow a quill from you for today? I want to get started on my seventh year lesson plan and my last one just broke,” Hermione asked.

“Sure, let me go get one from my room,” Harry replied. He walked over to his room and spoke the password when prompted, earning a gasp from Ron.

“You’re a Cannons fan?” he called out while Harry was rummaging around in his room.

“Used to be at least,” Harry replied, coming back out. “Here you are, Hermione.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Now that you’ve sparked Ron’s interest in quidditch, I’ll leave you two gentlemen alone to have it out.”

“All right,” Ron said. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Hermione replied with a smile before disappeared back into her room.

“You like quidditch, I take it,” Harry asked, playing dumb.

“Best sport in the world,” Ron replied. “You play?”

“Used to,” Harry said. “I haven’t been on a broom in years, though.”

“What?!” Ron nearly shouted. “Why not?”

“Been living as a muggle for the past three years,” he replied.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Ron asked.

“I was in an accident,” Harry said, which wasn’t entirely untrue. “After I recovered I found I actually liked living like that quite a bit.”

“But how could you survive without quidditch?” Ron asked, more to himself than Harry.

“I suppose I could learn how to play again,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Shake the dust off the Firebolt and see if it can still fly like it used to.”

“You have a Firebolt?” Ron asked in awe. Harry nodded. “That broom’s still the fastest in the world, you know.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Harry said with a chuckle. “It flies like a bullet.”

“D’you think...maybe...maybe sometime I could have a go on it?” Ron asked.

“Sure, why not,” Harry said. “Not today though, after you leave I need to talk with Hermione about finishing our lesson plan for the sixth years.”

“She’s been happier in the past few days than I’ve seen her in years,” Ron said, looking over his shoulder at her closed door. Harry wasn’t really sure how to respond to that. “You know what happened with her, right?”

“Er...Dumbledore told me she had some depression problems,” Harry said hesitantly.

“That’s putting it nicely,” Ron said. “She –”

“Wait,” Harry interrupted, feigning ignorance. “Should you be telling me this? I mean, wouldn’t she want to keep something like this private?”

“Yeah...you’re right,” Ron said with a sigh. “Sorry about that, I have a tendency to ramble on without thinking sometimes.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry said. “It happens to the best of us.”

“My point is that her face lit up like it hasn’t lit up in ages when she saw you just now,” Ron said. “Don’t go hurting her.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Harry muttered.

“Hmm?” Ron asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly. “Just a bit surprised.”

“It is rather surprising,” Ron said thoughtfully. “She stayed away from people for so long...and you can just get her to open up to you with a snap of the fingers.”

There was a sizeable pause in the room while the two men sat there thinking about the words that had just been spoken.

“I just met you, Harry,” Ron said. “But I feel like I can already trust you.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied.

“Don’t hurt her. She’s already been broken and repaired once. If she breaks again...I don’t know if we’ll be able to put her back together.” Harry nodded solemnly at this. “Well, I have to be off. My wife is expecting me home soon.”

Harry balked.

“Your wife?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, she’s the editor for the quibbler,” Ron replied. “You’ll get to meet her before the term starts, she loves to come up here and get interviews with all the teachers. Helps increase sales to the parents of first years.”

“Okay,” Harry said, not quite believing what he was hearing. “Have a good day, then.”

“You too, Harry,” Ron said, shaking hands with him. A moment later Harry was staring at the portrait hole that his former best friend had just walked through and shut. Sighing, he walked over to Hermione’s door and knocked.

“Just a second,” came her voice from the inside. “Oh, Harry,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t expect Ron to be gone so quickly. He loves quidditch more than anything else in the world.”

“Even Luna?” Harry couldn’t help asking as she let him in. Hermione stopped and faced him.

“How do you know about her?” she asked.

“He told me that she comes up and interviews all the teachers before the term starts,” Harry shrugged. Hermione looked at him for a moment, then nodded and closed the door.

“I bet if you asked him to choose between Luna and quidditch, it would be a tough decision,” she said with a smile.

‘And food,’ Harry thought to himself.

“So what did you want?” Hermione asked.

“I was hoping we could finish up that lesson plan,” Harry said. “I was going over it just now and I think that we’re getting somewhere with the animation idea.”

“Well it’s pretty much a given that they should learn to animate objects,” Hermione said. “I teach them how to animate, you teach them how to defend with them. Seems quite good, don’t you think? Harry?”

But Harry was no longer paying attention to her. His eyes were fixed on a spot outside her window way off in the distance. She turned to look at what he was staring at and saw, in the diminishing sunlight, a tiny speck of green just over the mountains.

Without warning Harry started to convulse and collapsed, clutching his forehead. His only words were, “There’s been an attack. Get Dumbledore,” before he lost consciousness.

---------------

Eh? Eh? Edge of cliff or not? Don’t worry, things start to get interesting from here on out, and next chapter, the biggest bombshell yet comes crashing down. Stay tuned!

Casing? Check. Nitroglycerin? Check. Fuses? Check.

I did warn you all that there would be a bigger bombshell in this chapter, and I’m not one to lie. It’s actually more of a large piece of the puzzle than a bombshell, and it’s probably something you’re all expecting to happen, so it might not be as big as I’m making it out to be. It will be a little dulled, however, by the fact that it will get explained in its entirety before this chapter is over. No cliffies this time, I’m afraid. Like that’ll bother you all. ::chuckles::

---------------

Chapter 6: The Revelation

“Harry? Harry are you awake?”

Harry vaguely registered that the voice belonged to Dumbledore, but was too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Hey, c’mon mate we know you’re awake,” another voice said. Harry guessed it was Ron’s. Still though, he did nothing. That changed a moment later when a spurt of cold water hit him in the face and he sat straight up in bed.

“Told you we knew you were awake,” Ron said with a grin as Harry blinked the water out of his eyes while Hermione cast a drying spell on him. Looking around he saw that he was sitting in a bed in the hospital wing.

“What’d you do that for?” Harry asked, turning to her.

“To get your lazy arse up,” she replied, tucking her wand away. “Dumbledore needs to speak to you.”

“Yes, indeed,” Dumbledore said. “It would be of help if you could tell me what you know of this recent attack.”

“So there has been an attack then?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Dumbeldore replied. “And I will need to talk with Harry about it in private.”

“Why?” Ron asked skeptically.

“Because it’s obviously none of our business, Ronald,” Hermione replied in a reprimanding tone.

“I didn’t mean –” Ron started but silenced when Hermione grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the ward. Harry and Dumbledore watched the doors close behind them before turning to look each other in the eye.

“Let us waste no time,” Dumbledore said. “Tell me what you know, and then I’ll relate to you what has happened.”

“I don’t know much,” Harry said. “I saw the dark mark floating over the mountains in the distance, and shortly thereafter I felt the familiar pain in my scar. He was happy, that’s all I remember.”

“He has good reason to be happy,” Dumbledore said. At Harry’s confused look, he continued. “Voldemort attacked a squib village just outside of Aberdeen. He expected, of course, that people would recognise him and the dark mark when he cast it into the sky. No one did, however.”

“Why would that make him happy?” Harry asked.

“Think about it,” Dumbledore replied. “No one knows who he is, the power he has, the destruction he can cause. Tom Riddle is much more powerful than when he first rose to power over twenty years ago, Harry. People will not prepare themselves to the extent that they should. He knows this, and will use it to his advantage. I promise you that.”

“What about the ministry?” Harry asked.

“The ministry only knows that there have been murders,” Dumbledore asked. “They don’t know that the attack was only the beginning of what is sure to be the systematic hunting of muggles, muggle-borns, and squibs.”

“Can’t you tell them?” Harry asked.

“I could, but they would not listen,” Dumbledore replied. “You surely remember what happened when I tried to help the Ministry at the end of your fourth year.”

“Right,” Harry said, downcast.

“From what I understand, the ministry has performed memory charms on everyone who lived...something that Voldemort will appreciate greatly, as more people will not know what has happened. They believe a natural disaster struck their area.”

“You can use a memory charm to modify someone’s memory?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Dumbledore replied. “It is similar to using the Imperius Curse. You simply think about what you want the person to remember when you cast the charm.”

“So what do we do now?” Harry asked after a pause.

“As of right now, our best course of action is to defend what we can, and let everything else happen as if we are none the wiser.”

“Give us more of an edge,” Harry said in understanding.

“Exactly,” Dumbledore replied. “Which is why I think you should have that conversation with Fawkes now. The more information we have, the more prepared we’ll be when the time comes for you to fight Voldemort.”

“Now?” Harry asked. “He’s here?”

The response he got was a bang and Fawkes appeared on the foot of Harry’s bed.

“You’ll find Fawkes has very good timing,” Dumbledore replied with a grin. The phoenix stared up at the former headmaster for a moment before turning to Harry.

“Erm...how...how am I supposed to do this?” Harry asked.

“Just ask him a question,” Dumbledore replied.

“Right,” Harry said. “Well...um...can you understand me Fawkes?” Harry asked. The phoenix nodded once in response. “Okay, well can you tell me why you made the egg?”

Fawkes let out a long quavering note in response, but for all Harry knew, it was an A flat. He heard no speech, no song, nothing that even remotely resembled English.

“I don’t understand him,” Harry said to Dumbledore. Albus stared blankly at him for a minute before speaking.

“Try again, then,” he said.

“Fawkes, why did you make the egg?” Harry asked.

Again, Fawkes let out the same note as before, but Harry still didn’t understand what was being said. Sighing, he turned to Dumbledore.

“Can’t you tell me what he’s saying?” he asked.

“No,” Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. “Phoenix is very remarkable in that only the person being spoken to can understand it. Very secretive creatures, phoenixes.”

“Why don’t you ask him then,” Harry suggested. Dumbledore shrugged.

“Why did you create the egg, Fawkes?” he asked the bird. This time, Fawkes let out two note, each of different tones than the first one. “He says he cannot tell me.”

“Why not?” Harry asked. Again, Fawkes sung a few notes and then promptly disappeared with a bang.

“He says that you are the only one who can know the answer to that question,” Dumbledore replied. “He also said that he will keep watch over you here until you can understand.”

“Where’d he go then?” Harry asked.

“To get his perch, most likely,” Dumbledore said. Sure enough, the phoenix appeared a second later seated comfortably on his perch before letting out a note and disappearing again. “He said he’ll be in your room.”

“Er...right,” Harry replied. “Well, what do I do now?”

“Now I think it is best to go back to your room,” Dumbledore said. “Surely you will have some explaining to do to your two new friends.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Albus, how are we supposed to beat Voldemort if no one can even defend themselves from him?”

“I cannot give you an answer to that yet, but rest assured, there will be a way,” Dumbledore replied. “I am currently trying to figure out if there is a way that would allow Severus to ‘see’ all of what is happening with the death eaters, but until I either achieve or fail, I cannot give you a finite answer.”

“At least we still have hope, then,” Harry said, standing up.

“Do not forget hope,” Dumbledore said in assent. “It is what gives us strength.”

=====

After what felt like an eternity Harry found himself at his door, giving the password to the gargoyle. Stepping inside his room, he sat down on his bed only to find someone already there, and it wasn’t Fawkes.

“Watch where you’re sitting!” Hermione exclaimed as Harry jumped up and promptly tripped over his feet, sending him to the ground.

“What’re you doing in here?” he asked, looking up at her.

“I was dropping off your copy of the finished lesson plan, but he wouldn’t let me leave,” she said pointing her thumb at Fawkes, who was perched comfortably near the door. “Every time I tried to go he’d squawk at me and fly around until I sat back down.”

“What are you doing?” Harry asked Fawkes tiredly. The phoenix merely looked at him and opened his beak in a yawn. “So unhelpful.”

“Why is he here?” Hermione asked.

“Watching over me,” Harry replied, lying down on his bed next to where Hermione was sitting.

“Why?”

“He’s got information I need, but I don’t know how to speak phoenix, so he’s going to hang around until I learn.”

“You can’t learn phoenix, Harry,” Hermione said, at which Harry looked up at her questioningly.
“Anyone who can speak phoenix already is born with the ability. They just need to refine it before it becomes distinguishable.”

“How do you know so much about phoenixes?” he asked, not surprised in the least.

“I read,” Hermione replied with a smug smile. “So, are you going to tell me what that fainting was all about?”

“Why was Ron there when I woke up?” Harry asked evasively.

“I summoned him to go and get Dumbledore while I made sure you didn’t die or anything,” Hermione replied. “Didn’t want to leave you by yourself after passing out like that.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

“So what happened?” she asked again. Seeing that she was not to be dissuaded, Harry sighed.

“When I was a baby, a dark lord named Voldemort tried to kill me, but failed,” he said. “This scar is what remains of the failed curse. It forged a connection between us that allows me to feel his emotions, and sometimes see through his eyes. I’m pretty sure he can do the same, but I’m not positive.”

“So this...Voldemort, did you say? Has attacked people and you felt his emotions through the scar?”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” Harry replied.

“There’s only one problem with that,” Hermione said, crossing her arms. “There haven’t been any dark lords named Voldemort. Ever.”

“He’s not on record,” Harry said, yawning.

“Why not?” Hermione asked. “If he tried to kill you, what, twenty years ago, surely people would know about him. Especially if you survived him as a baby.”

“Nineteen years,” Harry corrected. “I’m as old as you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione said. “What I want to know is why you’re lying to me. And how do you know how old I am?”

“Er...” Harry suddenly realised he was in a real bind.

“Is there something I should know?” Hermione asked.

“I...I er...um...”

“I guess I’ll just go then,” she said, standing. Harry was fully prepared to let her go and give himself some time to think things over, but was surprised (and disappointed) when Fawkes, just as Hermione described, refused to let her leave.

“Let me out you frustrating creature!” Hermione growled, exasperated.

“He wont,” Harry said, realising what must have been going through Fawkes’ mind. “He wants me to tell you everything.”

Hermione looked curiously between the phoenix and Harry while the former settled back onto his perch and nodded once.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“The truth,” Harry said, sitting up and looking her in the eye. “I doubt you’ll believe one bit of it, but Fawkes seems to think you should know.”

“That’s Dumbledore’s phoenix?” Hermione asked skeptically. “Seems much more ill-tempered than the books say.”

“There are books about Fawkes?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Hermione replied. “He helped Dumbledore kill Grindewald.”

Harry looked at the bird for a moment, and was surprised to see Fawkes looking down slightly, as if ashamed.

“So tell me the truth, then,” Hermione said.

“Have a seat,” Harry said. “It’s a long story.”

Hermione sat down in the armchair behind Harry’s desk and stared at him expectantly.

“I used to go here, you know,” he said, looking around him.

“To Hogwarts?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not possible,” Hermione said. “I was head girl, I knew everyone in my year –” Harry held up a hand to silence her before she could start a rant.

“If I’m going to tell you everything, you need to be willing to listen,” he said. Hermione immediately looked appropriately embarrassed and nodded. “You are right to be skeptical though. I know there’s no record of me ever attending, and you certainly don’t remember me even though I was in your year.”

“How is something like that possible?” she asked.

“The fact of the matter is, Voldemort was at the height of his power during our seventh year.”

“But –”

“Let me finish,” Harry said, and Hermione closed her mouth. “During that time, our good friend Fawkes over here made an egg.”

“Made?” Hermione asked.

“Well I’m not entirely sure how he made it, but yes, he made an egg.”

“Go on,” Hermione said with a sigh.

“This egg turned out to be a way to open a portal through time, but only myself and Voldemort could work it.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea,” Harry said. “Ask him if you want to know,” he said pointing at Fawkes, who now appeared to be listening with rapt attention. “Long story short, I figured out that by smashing the egg, it would kill both me and him. I did it.”

“But you didn’t die,” Hermione said pointedly.

“Apparently not,” Harry said. “Although until two weeks ago, I didn’t remember a thing about the wizarding world. When I woke up those years ago I was in a hospital and they told me I had gotten hit by a car.”

“How’d you remember?”

“Voldemort’s old supporters found him and restored his memory. Because of the connection we have, the memory restoration apparently spread to me too.”

Hermione looked at him for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“Suppose I believe you for a minute, even though your story is about as far-fetched as they come,” she said. “Why would you do something that would cause your own death?” Harry stared down at his feet in response to this. When he didn’t answer, Hermione spoke again. “Well?”

“I can’t tell you,” he blurted out.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it involves you,” he whispered.

“How could it?” she asked. “I would’ve remembered.”

“Oh, don’t you get it?” he asked, frustrated. “The smartest witch of our age, yet your skills of deductive reasoning leave something to be desired for!”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“No one remembers!” Harry yelled. “There wasn’t a damn person who even heard of me until Fawkes had Dumbledore drink my blood and his tears and only THEN did he remember it all.”

“How could something like that happen?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know!” Harry shouted. “Maybe everyone got memory charmed into not remembering any of it!”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Fawkes singing quite loudly. The sound ceased a moment later and Harry’s jaw dropped.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “Everyone got memory charmed?”

Fawkes chirped.

“You understand him?” Hermione asked.

“No, but whenever I’m right he always interrupts,” Harry said. “How...how is that possible?”

“I guess you won’t know until you learn to speak phoenix,” Hermione replied.

“No wonder he decided to stay here.”

Harry and Hermione sat in silence for a while contemplating the new information until she spoke up.

“So why did you smash the egg?” she asked.

“I shouldn’t tell you,” Harry said.

“You said it involved me,” Hermione replied. “Therefore I have a right to know.”

“Yeah...I know,” Harry replied. “Always standing up for rights, whether they be yours, or house-elf.” Hermione’s eyes widened at hearing this. “Do you believe me yet?”

“If you knew me...you must’ve known Ron.”

“We were best friends while I was here,” Harry said. “Ever since we saved you from a troll on Halloween in our first year.”

“I don’t remember that,” Hermione said.

“Of course you don’t,” Harry replied. “It involved me, therefore you don’t remember it.”

“Tell me something about Ron,” Hermione asked, seeking more reassurance.

“Ronald Weasley has six siblings, only one of which is female. His parents are named Molly and Arthur, and live in a very magical house called the Burrow. Fred and George, who are two of his brothers, opened a prank shop right out of school called Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.”

“You...you know everything,” Hermione said.

“I know even more about you,” Harry replied. At this, Hermione looked up at him curiously. “Your name is Hermione Jane Granger. You were born on September 19th in a hospital in Sheffield. Your parents are Dan and Emma Granger, both muggles, and were both surprised at your magical blood. In your third year you had a time-turner which you used to get to the extra classes that you should not have been taking. In your fourth year you learned about the treatment of house-elves and started the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare, which Ron jokingly referred to as SPEW. Your favorite spot in the entire school is in the library, although if it’s a nice day you prefer to read out under the tree on the far side of the lake.”

“I never told anyone about the time-turner,” Hermione said, jaw dropped.

“It must feel pretty boring, not remembering all the adventures you, Ron, and I had together,” Harry said.

“Tell me why you smashed the egg,” Hermione said. The tone of her voice said that she now needed to know, as opposed to wanted to know.

“I smashed the egg to save you,” Harry said truthfully. “We were trapped in Dumbledore’s office. Voldemort had you in the Cruciatus Curse and demanded I give him the egg. I smashed it to save your life.”

“There’s more to it though, isn’t there?” Hermione asked.

“...We were in love,” Harry said softly. “I couldn’t bear the thought of your death, and reasoned that if I could die to save your life, it would be worth it.”

“I had a feeling it was something like that,” Hermione said with a sigh.

“You did?” Harry asked. She nodded.

“Did Dumbledore tell you about what happened with me after graduation?”

Deciding that honesty was the best course of action here, Harry nodded.

“He told me everything when he regained his memory of me, and what I had done,” he said.

“I felt so alone...so empty,” Hermione said. “Ever since you’ve arrived here, I’ve felt as if that missing piece of my soul is suddenly back where it belongs.”

“Do...do you mean that?” Harry asked, his heart starting to beat wildly in his chest.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to accept it yet. I barely know you...even though you seem to know everything about me.”

“I understand,” Harry said, slightly deflated.

“It’s all so hard to believe,” Hermione said. “But everything you’ve told me...it suddenly seems familiar.”

“If it was a mass memory charm that made everyone forget, then it should start to come back slowly,” Harry said. Hermione nodded and stood up.

“I should get back to my room,” she said. “I have a lot to think about.”

“Don’t think too hard,” Harry said with a smile. “I’ve seen you trying to work out a problem with no rational answer. You look like your brain is about to overheat.”

“You must be telling the truth, because that’s exactly what it feels like,” Hermione replied with a slight smile. “I’ll talk to you later, Harry. You can be sure of it.”

Harry watched her leave the room and close his door before lying down on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly realising something, he sat up and stared at Fawkes, who was looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary.

“You sneaky bastard,” Harry said staring at the phoenix. Fawkes simply looked at him and squawked gleefully.

---------------

All right. So now that that’s out of the way, we can concentrate on some Pumpkin Pie fluff and the revival of Voldemort. Next chapter you’ll get to meet Luna for the first time this story, and perhaps more surprises.....until then. ::maniacal cackle::

HAHAHA! Wow am I a ditz! For those of you who yelled at me constantly (and there were a few) about Hermione’s middle name, I concede defeat. Unfortunately for me, I had NEVER read the World Book 2004 chat in which Jo says that Hermione’s middle name is Jane, so after hitting my head on the desk a few dozen times, I went back and changed that. So thanks to everyone who reviewed in yelling at me. I’d just like to remind a couple of you though that even as a writer and someone blatantly obsessed with Harry Potter, I, just like everyone else, get things wrong from time to time. So next time, just let me know how I’m wrong and where I can find the correct information instead of acting all pissed off because I made a mistake.

But don’t stop reviewing....::wink::

On another note...ok, so you all didn’t like that bomb I had last chapter. Try this one on for size.

---------------

Chapter 7: The Woes of Life

Harry sat in the common room looking to his right at Hermione, who was working silently on some project or another. Given the excellent first week he had at Hogwarts, he should’ve expected it wouldn’t last.

For two weeks after he had told Hermione everything, she had become more withdrawn from the world. She no longer greeted him with a beaming smile at breakfast in the Great Hall. She no longer was anxious to find out what he planned to do with his day, and if it was work help out. She didn’t give him any more than one word responses when he asked her how she was doing or if she wanted to do anything. It was killing him.

Harry sighed and turned back to the book he was supposed to be reading to help determine the text selections for each year. He noticed somewhere in the back of his mind that he had been staring at page 23 for the past hour or so. Just when he was about to give up and go back into his room, Hermione spoke up.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been awfully silent today.” Harry turned his head in surprise to her. It was the first whole sentence she had said to him in the past thirteen days.

“I’m normally not this silent?” he asked with a small smile.

“You usually say something to me while we’re working,” Hermione replied. “But today you haven’t said a word in the two hours I’ve been here.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to talk to you,” Harry said.

“What would give you that idea?” she asked.

“I dunno,” Harry replied. “You just seem like you’ve been avoiding me these past two weeks. You don’t even talk to me anymore.”

“I didn’t realise I was obligated to talk to you,” Hermione commented, looking back at her parchment.

“I didn’t say that,” Harry said. “I just.....”

“Just what?” Hermione asked, not looking up.

“I’ll just go,” Harry said, standing up with the book and walking towards his room. He gave the password to the gargoyle and opened the door, but didn’t step inside. “Look, I’m sorry I told you everything I did,” he said. Hermione said nothing. “If it makes you feel any better, I know exactly what it’s like to get life-changing information dumped on you when you’re least expecting it.” When she still said nothing, he sighed and walked into his room.

Closing the door, he dropped the book on his desk and flopped unceremoniously down onto the bed, looking over at Fawkes who was pruning his feathers.

“Right brilliant idea you had Fawkes,” Harry said, causing the phoenix to look up. “I bet she hates me now.” Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

“She doesn’t hate you.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open and looked wildly around the room, landing on Fawkes when there was obviously no one else present. “Did you say something?” he asked the phoenix. Fawkes simply stared at him for a minute before resuming his grooming. Suddenly a knock startled Harry out of his thoughts. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Hermione, her head bowed slightly.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied, waving his hand to make the chair behind his desk pull itself out for her. Hermione closed the door gently and sat down, still not making eye contact with him. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, not looking up.

“It’s okay,” Harry replied, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Like I said, I know what it’s like.”

“Do you mind telling me how?” Hermione asked. “I don’t want to intrude or anything –”

“No, no it’s fine,” Harry said before she could start rambling. “The most memorable time was after my fifth year.”

“What happened?”

“I had just witnessed the murder of my godfather,” Harry said, causing Hermione’s eyes to widen. “Since my parents had been killed, he was the closest thing I had to a father...even though sometimes he behaved more like the teenager inside of him than an adult.”

“I’m sorry...” Hermione said.

“It’s in the past,” Harry replied. “Anyway, about half an hour after I saw his death, Dumbledore and I had a fairly unpleasant conversation in which I learned some things that I felt I should’ve been told many years beforehand.”

“Like what?” Hermione asked.

“There was a prophecy made before I was born,” Harry said. “Long story short, it states that either I will kill Voldemort, or he will kill me.”

“That’s horrible,” Hermione said.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry replied. “Imagine being only 15 and being told that you’re the only person with the capability to kill the greatest dark lord of your time?”

“I imagine your summer wasn’t all that pleasant,” Hermione scoffed.

“I tried to kill myself that summer,” Harry said hesitantly. At this, Hermione’s mouth opened slightly.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Do you think I would joke about something like that?” Harry asked.

“No,” Hermione replied softly.

“No one knows except for my cousin, and as far as I know he didn’t tell anyone,” Harry said. “He caught me trying to hang myself and figured he could use the information to blackmail me if I ever got on his nerves.”

“That’s terrible,” Hermione said.

“I didn’t care,” Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Seeing as no one else did except for you or Ron.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“You and Ron were the only two people to write me all summer,” Harry said. “And I reckon that Ron only did because you made him. Everyone thought I should just have my space and that I’d snap out of my funk on my own eventually.”

“...Do...do you have anything I wrote you?” Hermione asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied, getting up. “I’ve saved every letter you’ve ever written me.”

“Have you really?” Hermione asked in astonishment as Harry opened his trunk and started rummaging around through it.

“Course,” he replied. “They were the only things that kept me going during my summers.”

“Why were your summers so unbearable?” Hermione asked.

“Let’s just say my aunt and uncle weren’t the nicest people in the world,” Harry said, standing up and handing Hermione a stack of parchment a half foot thick. “There you go.”

“I wrote all these?” Hermione asked, looking them over with an amazed expression.

“Yep,” Harry said, sitting on the desk next to her.

“I can’t believe all of this actually happened,” she said softly. “I knew your godfather too?”

“Yeah,” he said. “If you look through those, you’ll find a letter that you wrote me during my summer before sixth year telling me that you were almost as depressed as I was over Sirius’ death.”

“How come?” Hermione asked.

“You helped me rescue him in our third year,” Harry said. “On the back of Buckbeak, to be exact.”

“Hagrid’s hippogriff?” she asked.

“The same.”

“This is all...this is astonishing,” Hermione said looking at a letter she had written Harry just before their seventh year started. “I really did love you...didn’t I?”

“I sure hope you did, given what we did the night before I destroyed the egg,” Harry said without thinking. The moment the words were out of his mouth his face turned the color of Ron’s hair.

“Er...what did we do?” Hermione asked nervously.

“I didn’t mean to bring that up,” Harry said. “Ignore it. I just put my foot in my mouth like Ron does.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and Harry mentally cringed knowing that she wasn’t going to let this go when there was a knock on his door. Relieved, he waved his hand to open it, and saw Dumbledore standing outside next to a very familiar blond.

“Harry, Hermione,” Dumbledore said rather grimly. “Perhaps we could come in?”

“Of course,” Harry said motioning them inside the room. “You must be Luna,” he said warmly as though he had no idea of who she was.

“Indeed,” she replied with an airy smile. “Ron’s told me all about you, Harry Potter.”

“Nothing bad, I hope,” Harry said with a smile.

“That all depends on what you view to be bad,” she replied.

“I take it you’re here to interview me?” Harry asked.

“I would like to,” she said. “If it’s not a good time, I can come back later.”

“No, no now’s fine,” Harry said, grateful to escape the icy glare Hermione was shooting at him for a little while.

“Glad to hear it,” Luna said, sitting on Harry’s bed and pulling out a quick quotes quill.

“Hermione, perhaps I could speak with you outside while Luna’s asking Harry questions?” Albus asked, and Harry was surprised to see that he wasn’t making eye contact with her, but rather frowning quite a bit.

“Sure,” Hermione replied, giving Harry one last glance before following Dumbledore outside and closing the door behind her.

“A quick quotes quill,” Harry said looking at the quill nervously. At least this one was a bright blue instead of an acid green.

“I assure you, mine is not nearly as vicious as Rita Skeeter’s,” Luna said with a smile. Harry’s head snapped up so fast he got a crick in his neck.

“Wha-what?” he stammered.

“I’m lucky that I’m an astute person,” Luna remarked, looking at some point in the air behind Harry. “Or else everyone would have thought I was mental when I ended up asking what happened to you. More mental, anyway.”

“You....you remember me?” Harry asked, mouth hanging open.

“One of the benefits of having Seer capabilities,” Luna said absently, “is that if you know what’s coming, you can protect yourself against it.”

“You’re a Seer?” Harry asked, his mind reeling.

“Heavens, no,” Luna replied. “But I do get the occasional vision. Lucky for me I knew about two days before it happened that when the egg broke it would cast a mass memory charm on everyone in existence. You remember mass spells, don’t you Harry? Like how Voldemort cast a mass sleeping spell on everyone the day of the attack?”

“I...I can’t believe this...” Harry said.

“You have no idea how happy I was to hear you were alive when Ron told me you were the new DADA teacher,” Luna said, extending her hand. “Welcome back, Harry.”

“Thanks, Luna,” he said shaking her hand lightly.

“How have these past few years been?” she asked.

“Rough,” Harry replied, finally shaking the shock from his head. “I was living as a muggle working in a diner.”

“I imagine that cooking comes to you naturally, given how awful your relatives were,” Luna said making eye contact for the first time that day.

“You could say that,” Harry said. “Does anyone else remember?”

“Not that I know of,” Luna said, at which point Fawkes chirped from his perch drawing attention to himself.

“He and Dumbledore do,” Harry replied.

“Fawkes must remember because he made the prophecy in the first place,” Luna said absently, to which the phoenix nodded vigorously.

“What prophecy?” Harry asked.

“Harry, don’t you know?” Luna asked. When he shook his head she sighed. “How do you think the recordings of prophecies in the Department of Mysteries are made?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Seeing as how the keeper of the hall can’t possibly have heard all of them, I figure they just pop into existence when a prophecy is made.”

“That’s partially correct,” Luna said. “But they need help from somewhere. Now usually, the person the prophecy is told to goes into the hall and puts the memory of the telling into a glass sphere. But when that doesn’t happen, yes, the spheres essentially pop into existence.”

“So what does Fawkes have to do with this?” Harry asked.

“Fawkes, being the smart one, and apparently knowing you don’t understand phoenix yet,” Luna said looking at the bird which nodded its head once. “Made sort of a combination, knowing he couldn’t physically relate the prophecy to you himself. Mind you that’s just a guess on my part.”

“How do you know all of this?” Harry asked. “And how could it have been a prophecy since it opened a time portal?”

“I know all of this because I Saw it,” Luna said. “That, and I have Hermione’s knowledge when it comes to these type of things. I was a Ravenclaw, remember?”

“Right,” Harry said, feeling stupid.

“I think the time portal, along with the mass memory charm...mind you this is purely speculation, but I think that they were defense mechanisms, am I right Fawkes?”

The phoenix chirped loudly in response to this.

“Defense mechanisms? Why?” Harry asked.

“Probably has to do with what information the sphere actually contained,” Luna said shrugging. “I really couldn’t tell you much more than that.”

“It still amazes me that you could tell me anything at all,” Harry said leaning back.

“Thought I’d still just be plain old Loony Lovegood?” she asked with a faint smile.

“You were never plain, never loony, and I can hardly call you a Lovegood now, can I?” Harry asked with a grin.

“I suppose not,” Luna said looking at the wedding ring on her left hand with a smile. “I never thought he’d feel the same way.”

“Do you mind if I ask how it happened?” Harry asked.

“It was right after Hermione tried to kill herself,” Luna said. “Ron was in a bad place, and I helped him out of it. After that I think he realised that I wasn’t as crazy as he thought I was. Things just progressed from there.”

“What’s he doing now?” Harry asked. “He didn’t tell me when I saw him.”

“He’s the Keeper for the Liverpool Lightning,” Luna said. When Harry’s eyes bugged, she laughed. “Hard to imagine him playing quidditch professionally, isn’t it?”

“How on earth did he make the team?” Harry asked. “Not that he was horrible at it or anything but –”

“He blames me for it,” Luna said with a smile. “Said that I motivated him to practice and get good enough to play.”

“You two seem to be just right for each other,” Harry said.

“Just like you and Hermione,” Luna replied.

“I don’t know about that,” Harry sighed. “I told her the truth and she hasn’t been friendly to me since.”

“Why’d you tell her?”

“That arse over there wanted me to,” Harry said pointing at Fawkes, who ruffled his feathers indignantly.

“That’s the only reason?” Luna asked.

“I suppose part of me wanted to tell her too,” Harry said sighing. “I wanted her to love me again.”

“You know,” Luna said standing up, “I don’t think she ever stopped.”

“We’ll see,” Harry said as Luna put the quill and parchment away. “We’re done?”

“Of course,” Luna replied. “I already know almost everything there is to know about you, Harry, I’m sure I can just twist it so that it doesn’t seem strange to everyone else.”

“All right,” Harry said standing up and opening the door for her.

“It’s good to see you again, Harry,” Luna said giving him a hug as she reached him.

“You too, Luna,” Harry replied. “Say hi to Ron for me.”

“I will,” Luna said. “Now I think you should go see what’s wrong with Hermione.”

“Huh?” Harry asked, turning to look at Hermione’s closed door, behind which he could hear faint sobs. “How’d you –” But Luna was already gone.

Sighing, he made his way over to Hermione’s room and knocked once.

“Go away,” came her sobbing voice from the inside.

“Hermione?” Harry asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it...please just leave me alone,” Hermione sobbed.

“Did something happen?” he asked, not about to give up. When he didn’t get an answer he was about to go back to his room until the door opened slightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I...I just...”

“Shh.....” Harry said opening the door fully and wrapping her in his arms. “What happened?”

“My parents are dead,” she sobbed into his shoulder. Harry froze.

“What?” he whispered.

“Murdered...by that damn V-Voldemort,” she sniffled.

“Did Dumbledore tell you this?” Harry asked softly. Hermione nodded into his robes. “Just now?” Another nod as her sobs continued. “God...Hermione I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, still crying.

“It is...” Harry said. “He knew that it would hurt you because he remembers me...and everything about me...it’s my ruddy fault...”

“Stop it Harry, you’re not making me feel better,” Hermione said through sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” he replied snapping out of his own self-hatred for a minute. “Come on, let’s get you in your room.”

Hermione allowed herself to be led by Harry back into her room and onto her bed where she dissolved into tears again.

“They were all I had left...” she wailed.

“You still have me,” Harry said softly. At this, Hermione looked up and sniffled, tears still running down her cheeks.

“I do...don’t I?” she asked, sadly.

“Of course you do,” he said, brushing her tears away. “I still love you...you know that right?”

“I know,” she replied. “I think....I think I do too.”

“Do you really mean that? You aren’t just saying that because you’re depressed and feel alone?”

“I mean it...” Hermione said. “I haven’t been avoiding you these past few weeks, Harry. I’ve been trying to come to terms with the fact that I fell in love with you so quickly.”

He couldn’t take it any longer. Leaning in slowly, he touched his lips to hers in a tender kiss. He could faintly recognise the taste of salt from her tears, but pushed it out of his mind as Hermione wound her arms around the back of his neck. Finally, a minute later they broke apart, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Love me, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Love me like you did before you vanished.”

“You believe me then?” he asked.

“How could I not?” Hermione countered. “I read my own letters signed ‘With all my love’ at the bottom.” Harry smiled at that. “Love me,” she repeated. “Physically.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked softly.

“Yes,” she replied. “Help me forget all of this.”

“I don’t want to do something you’ll regret tomorrow just because you wanted to forget,” Harry said.

“I could never regret it,” Hermione said. “Not with you. Just take me a million miles away from all of this, for a little while.”

“You’re remembering,” Harry said with a smile as Hermione sniffled again. “You said that exact same thing to me the morning I smashed the egg.”

Nothing else was said between the two as they disappeared into their love for each other. Fawkes, on the other hand, was sitting on his perch in Harry’s room singing away, a slight smile showing in his features.

---------------

So how bout that? Huh? I count...let’s see....3 bombs in this one. Did I do a good job? Hmm? Make sure to let me know ::wink wink:: Au revoir!

Ah...welcome to another week of ficdom. As of when I’m typing this, it is exactly one month until HBP, which could very well solve all the shipping debate in HP fandom. Let’s all cross our fingers for our favorite ship, the H.M.S. Pumpkin Pie.

Speaking of HBP, I’m planning on posting the last chapter of this story on July 15th, so you can all read the finale before going out to the midnight release party (don’t roll your eyes at me, you know you are). That means that this story will be 12 chapters long...which I think is about right. I could actually end this story in THIS chapter if I wanted to, I know how it’s all going to work out, but I’m sure we all want to see Harry teach a little ::wink:: So that being said, let’s continue on!

---------------

Chapter 8: Puzzle Pieces

Harry awoke the next morning to find bright light flooding his face. Groaning, he made to move his right arm to cover his eyes, but found himself unable to lift it. Turning his head to the right, he saw Hermione sleeping contently on his arm, her own draped across his body. Harry sighed and smiled, remembering the night before with a smile on his face.

“Harry?” Hermione moaned softly, one of her eyes opening slightly.

“It’s me, love,” he said still smiling.

“What time is it?” she asked, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes again. Harry looked over at Hermione’s bedside table and saw that her mechanical clock read 9:45.

“Quarter to ten,” Harry answered. At this, Hermione’s eyes shot open.

“It’s that late?” she asked, quickly to a sitting position. “Oh my god...you have to get back to your room quickly before anyone notices...”

“Shhh...” Harry said holding a finger to her lips. “McGonagal already knows everything. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“She WHAT?!” Hermione screeched.

“Er...that didn’t come out right,” Harry said. “What I meant to say is that Dumbledore told her my story before she hired me, and she knows how madly in love with you I am.”

“Oh...” Hermione said lying back down. “Well then...I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay,” Harry replied, brushing an errant strand of hair from her face. “How are you feeling?”

“All things considered...not that bad I suppose,” she replied with a sigh. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over them.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Harry said honestly. “I feel like it’s my fault, but someone once told me that taking all the blame for something out of your control only leads to foolish self-hatred and pity.”

“Who said that?” Hermione asked.

“You did,” Harry replied with a smile. “Right after Sirius died.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “I know it must be a strain on you. You’ve already lost both your parents and your godfather, and I’m sitting here wailing about my problems.”

“I would be worried about you if you weren’t,” Harry said softly. “It’s because I’ve lost so many people...more than you know about, actually...that I can completely understand what you’re going through. I’ll be here to help you every step of the way, you know.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied. “It just feels so...so...”

“Surreal?” Harry suggested.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Hermione said. “I just can’t believe they’re gone. I don’t know what to do...”

“All you can do is live life,” Harry said. “And be happy. I didn’t really know your parents that well, but don’t all parents only want their child to be happy?”

“Most of them, anyway,” Hermione replied with a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll have to figure out when to have their funeral.”

“I’m sure Dumbledore can help arrange that,” Harry said. They lay together in silence for a little while until Hermione spoke up.

“Who else did you know?” Hermione asked.

“Hmm?”

“Who else did you know that Voldemort murdered,” Hermione revised. Harry sighed.

“The list is far too long,” he said. “My parents and Sirius are just the tip of the iceberg. Remus Lupin, your DADA teacher in third year was my surrogate godfather after Sirius died. Cedric Diggory was an acquaintance of mine when he was killed...that one was really was my fault.”

“I doubt that,” Hermione said.

“Then there was a slew of people in the Order that got killed in my sixth and seventh years...too many to remember the names of. Most of them were new inductees who just wanted to help bring down evil in the world.”

“That’s terrible,” Hermione said sadly, burying her face in Harry’s chest.

“That’s war,” Harry corrected. “But I’ll end it soon enough. I won’t let the slaughter of innocent witches, wizards, and muggle start to happen again.”

“We’ll end it soon enough,” Hermione said. “D’you think that after your performance last night I’d ever let you go again?”

“I hope not,” Harry said with a smile. “Care for an encore?”

“I think that could be arranged,” Hermione replied, love and lust shining in her eyes.

=====

“Does he know yet?” Dumbledore asked softly, trying to make his presence unknown to the people in the other room.

“A part of it,” came the reply.

“How much?”

“He knows about the protections it had, and what it was.” Dumbledore sighed.

“Do you know when he’ll figure it out?” the aged wizard asked.

“If I knew the future, I would’ve made a prophecy of my own, don’t you think?” came the response.

“Too right,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “You need to help him.”

“I already have.”

“Yes...that much is certain I think,” Dumbledore replied. “And while that was a rather grand thing you did for Harry and Hermione, Fawkes, I don’t think we have very much time left until a battle arrives at our doorstep.”

“You’re right about that,” Fawkes replied. “Traethis tells me that the Dark One is gathering his forces to storm the castle.”

“Already?” Dumbledore asked.

“He knows that people are refusing to accept him as a Dark Lord, and therefore he not only plans to put that knowledge in their heads, he plans to do so while we are at our weakest.”

“You have to find a way to tell him,” Dumbledore said. “Harry needs to know the contents of that prophecy.”

“It’s a shame Rowena made me the keeper, or you could tell him yourself,” Fawkes replied with a grim look.

“It’s much better that she did it that way, and you know it,” Dumbledore said. “Or else there would have been problems when the war broke out.”

“The truth is unfortunate, sometimes.”

“How is Traethis anyway?” Dumbledore asked.

“Quite well, thank you,” Fawkes replied. “Not liking his position very much...”

“Living with Bellatrix Lestrange can’t do much for one’s nerves, even if he is your brother.”

“He says the stench of evil in that place is unbearable,” Fawkes said.

“Quite understandable,” Dumbledore replied. “I must thank him when I see him next.”

“Help the boy learn to calm his mind,” Fawkes said as Dumbledore stood to leave. “He needs to understand me before it’s too late.”

=====

Harry woke some time later to muffled voices coming from the common room. He slid out of bed gently so as not to wake Hermione and threw on a pair of pants and a shirt before opening the door just enough to see what was going on.

“Severus can assist,” Professor McGonagal said. “I’m sure he’d be willing to if the request came from you.”

“I do not like using unnatural processes to accomplish something which can be achieved naturally,” Dumbledore replied. “That is the surest way to be trapped by dark magic.”

“If we have as little time as you really say...I don’t see how we have a choice,” McGonagal replied.

“I agree,” Dumbledore said heavily. “But I don’t think we should jump into this lightly. I want to consult with Harry first before any decisions are made.”

“Very well,” Minerva said. “But hurry, Albus. My power is not nearly as strong as yours. I don’t think the castle could withstand an attack right now.”

“I will speak with him right away,” Dumbledore said. “Go and tell Severus I will be speaking with him shortly. I have other things I need to discuss with him anyway.”

“Very well,” McGonagal said, turning towards the exit of the common room. “Good luck, Albus.”

“Thank you,” he replied as McGonagal left the room. “You can come out, Harry.”

Harry was startled but strangely enough not surprised that Dumbledore knew he was eavesdropping. He opened the door quietly and stepped out into the room, closing it behind him.

“Erm...sorry, Albus. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop...”

“Of course you did,” Dumbledore replied with a grin. “No harm though, you would’ve heard most of that conversation from me anyway.”

“What were you talking about?” Harry asked.

“Have a seat first,” Dumbledore said. “This may take a minute.” Harry sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, Dumbledore took the seat opposite him. “It has come to my attention that Voldemort is planning to attack Hogwarts within the next month.”

“Are you kidding me?” Harry asked. “Already?”

“Probably after the population arrives,” Dumbledore said, ignoring Harry’s question. “So that there’s more damage.”

“What are we going to do about it?” he asked. Dumbledore’s expression hardened instantly.

“From what I understand, Luna told you what she knows about the egg that Fawkes created,” he said. Harry nodded. “Do you understand why Fawkes created it with the protections that he did?”

“Not really,” Harry confessed.

“There were two protections on it,” Dumbledore said. “Each accomplished one form of the two teachings of safety.”

“What are those?” Harry asked.

“The first,” Dumbledore said. “Is to never let the enemy see you bleed. That was what the memory charm was for. If the recording of the prophecy was broken in the presence of anyone but yourself, it would trigger the charm and everyone’s memories would be wiped, except for Fawkes’ of course.”

“The doesn’t explain why Voldemort and I got transported to different parts of the world,” Harry said.

“Fawkes, being the smart bird that he is, knew that if the recording was broken in anyone’s presence but your own, you would likely be in trouble. He thought a portkey tied into the magical signature that only you and Voldemort possess would accomplish getting you out of harm’s way.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “So what’s the second ‘teaching of safety’?”

“Always have an escape plan,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

“So that was the portkey, then?” Harry asked.

“Not in the least,” Dumbledore replied. “The portkey was a ‘last resort’ if you will. No, the ability for the sphere to open a time portal, that was the escape plan.”

“That worked out well, didn’t it?” Harry scoffed.

“It actually worked out perfectly, with the obvious exception that you had the extreme misfortune to go back in time to Tom Riddle’s seventh year. You could’ve gone anywhere...it was supposed to be random. According to Fawkes it was completely bad luck that you ended up when you did.”

“Great,” Harry said. “So why did Fawkes put all these protections on the egg?”

“Prophecy, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected. “He did so because he is the only one with the capability to tell the prophecy to anyone else. I, myself, heard it for the first time only after you came to live here a few weeks ago.”

“Can’t you tell it to me, then?” Harry asked.

“No,” Dumbledore said. “The prophecy was given many, many years ago by Rowena Ravenclaw to Fawkes, who at the time happened to be Godric Gryffindor’s faithful friend. She immediately made him the keeper of the prophecy.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked.

“That he is the only one who can speak the information it contains aloud,” Dumbledore said. “So you see, that leaves us in a bit of a quandary.”

“I need to learn phoenix, obviously,” Harry said. “I take it Minerva had an idea that’s rather dangerous?”

“Not dangerous in the traditional sense, but yes, she did,” Dumbledore said. “There is a potion that allows the drinker to become universally fluent in all languages. The problem is that it’s considered very dark magic, as it contains basilisk blood.”

“If it’s not dangerous in the ‘it’ll kill me sense’,” Harry said, “why is it dangerous?”

“Because it’s an easy way out,” Dumbledore said. “Especially because it’s dark magic. Dark magic often contains unnatural ‘easy ways’ out of problems. I just wanted to make sure you understood what you’re getting yourself into if you drink this.”

“Because you’re worried it could turn me evil?” Harry asked.

“No,” Dumbledore replied. “I do not believe you could ever become evil like Lord Voldemort is. I do however, believe that being a practitioner of the dark arts is neither very wise, nor safe, so I want you to understand that using special ways to achieve what you want, like this, should only be used very infrequently.”

“I understand,” Harry said. “I’m not too thrilled about the idea of drinking basilisk blood as it is. Where will you find some anyway?”

“I believe that Severus has the ability to scrape some off Godric Gryffindor’s sword,” Dumbledore said. “It still resides in the headmaster’s office, you know.”

“Ah,” Harry said.

“I shall tell Severus to start making the potion right away,” Dumbledore said standing up. “It will take a week and a half to mature.”

“Very well,” Harry said. “I’ll see you around then, Albus.”

“Indeed you will, Harry.”

Harry stared at the retreating back of Albus until he was gone from the room. He couldn’t help but wonder whether the time when he would have to face Voldemort at last was coming soon.

---------------

I know it’s rather short, and, quite frankly, rather dull. A few of you may have problems with Hermione’s reaction to her parents’ deaths, but please don’t constantly yell at me in your reviews about it. If you would like, I will rationalize her behavior in a response to clear up any confusion. There’s also a reference to one of my favorite movies in this chapter...pumpkin pie to those who get it. Until next time.

Yeah...I had a feeling people weren’t going to care for last chapter that much. It got...let me count, a humongous, whopping total of NINE reviews. Now, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it, all I’m saying is let’s try and make up for it this week ::wink::.

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Chapter 9: The First Conversation

Two weeks later Harry was standing in Snape’s office with Dumbledore, wondering whether agreeing to take this potion was a good idea, given the smell coming from the cauldron it was residing in.

“Is it ready yet?” Harry asked, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down.

“Potion making is not a science that can be hurried, Potter,” Snape replied, looking down the length of his nose into the cauldron. “Another minute or two, perhaps.”

“You are quite sure that no mistakes have been made, Severus?” Albus asked cautiously. Snape looked up at him as if he had just suggested that he kiss Filch.

“I am positive,” replied the potions master, pulling a rather sinister-looking book from his desk and flipping it open. “As you can see, the potion is exactly as the book describes.”

“You had to make this potion from a book?” Harry asked skeptically. “You didn’t know how to already?”

“Well seeing how I haven’t dabbled around in the dark arts, it’s not like I know from instinct,” Snape retorted.

“I would prefer to avoid any arguments,” Dumbledore interjected, peering into the cauldron. “It appears ready.”

“So it does,” agreed Snape, summoning a ladle from one of the shelves, spooning the thick, black potion into a flask, and handing it to Harry. “All at once then.”

Harry took the flask from Snape’s hand tentatively and sniffed at the potion. He promptly had to set it down on the desk and cover his mouth to keep from retching.

“Is it supposed to smell that bad?” he asked, wincing.

“You’ll find that dark magic, powerful as it may be, rarely tastes good,” Snape said with a sadistic smile.

“I’d rather bathe in skele-gro than drink that, I think,” Harry said, eyeing it carefully. “What if I throw it up?”

“You won’t,” Snape reassured. “It’ll be absorbed into your system the moment it touches your stomach.” Harry sighed, and holding his nose with one hand, picked up the flask with the other.

“Bottoms up, then.” He closed his eyes and poured the contents of the potion into his mouth, gagging several times before finally being able to swallow it. Coughing, he placed the now empty flask back on Snape’s desk and promptly slumped to the floor, unconscious.

=====

“Harry?”

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain, Harry registered that it was Hermione’s soft, melodious voice calling to him.

“Harry...wake up...”

Not particularly inclined to cooperate, he breathed contentedly and let himself bask in the knowledge that Hermione was there. That, of course, changed when a jet of cold water hit him in the face.

“Gah! Must you always resort to that?” Harry asked, blinking the water out of his eyes as Hermione muttered a drying spell on him from her spot next to his bed.

“When the welcoming feast is about to start, yes,” she replied with a small smile.

“Welcoming feast?” Harry asked. “How long have I been out?”

“About two weeks,” she said sadly.

Harry looked at his surroundings and noticed that he was back in his own room, though Fawkes was noticeably absent. He did see, however, many of Hermione’s clothes on the dresser and could see some of her toiletries in his bathroom.

“Have you been staying here?” he asked.

“Er....” Hermione blushed. “Well Fawkes had to do something while you were unconscious, and Dumbledore thought it best if someone stayed here to look after you, and –” Harry put his finger up to her lips to keep her from rambling.

“And you probably jumped at the prospect of being able to sleep with me,” he said with a grin. Hermione’s blush deepened. “You know, you could probably move in with me if we could convince McGonagal of it.”

“I doubt she’d allow it,” Hermione said, her face starting to return to it’s normal color. “Even if she did, the governors would probably disallow it instantly. The school generally frowns upon unmarried professors living together. Bad example for the students and such.”

“Guess I should ask you to marry me,” Harry said jokingly. He smile dropped from his face though, when he saw Hermione’s horrified expression.

“I...uh...”

“Hermione, I was joking,” he said, not quite believing that she thought he was serious.

“Oh...”

“Does the thought of you being my wife really appall you that much?” Harry asked slightly hurt.

“No!” Hermione exclaimed. “I just...I thought you were proposing and wasn’t really prepared for it.”

“Oh,” Harry said with a slight smile. He took her hand in his and stroked the back of hers with his thumb. “Well, what if I had been serious?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, looking away slightly.

“I’ve found the unanswerable question for Hermione Granger,” Harry said with a dung-eating grin. “Ron would be so proud.”

“Oh stop being so full of yourself, Potter,” she retorted, also with a grin.

“Well...maybe we could find a way to live together without anyone knowing,” Harry said with a smile, picking his wand up from where it lay on the bedside table. “Porto vimi.”

A beautiful door appeared on the section of blank wall between Harry’s dresser and the wall that was the outer wall of the castle. Grinning, he flicked his wand and the door opened to reveal Hermione’s room.

“There, now we can come and go without anyone knowing,” he said mischievously.

“Harry...do you realise what you’ve just done?” Hermione asked breathlessly, her jaw dropped.

“No, what?”

“You just changed the school,” she said. “The physical properties of the castle are protected by very powerful magic. No one’s been able to do such a thing since the founders themselves.”

“Really?” Harry asked, interested. “Cool.”

“I think ‘cool’ is hardly the word to describe it,” Hermione said. “We should let Dumbledore know right away.”

“Don’t we have a welcoming feast to attend?” Harry asked, swinging his feet over the edge of his bed.

“Oh...right,” Hermione replied. “Well, we’ll tell him right after it’s over.”

“Seems like a plan,” Harry said. “Now, I believe we should change into our robes?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said standing up and walking over to the new door. “I’ll just....I’ll meet you in the common room, I guess.”

“Will do,” Harry said as she walked into her room and closed the door behind her.

Harry looked around and sighed. He hated being unconscious for prolonged periods of time, and two weeks was no exception. Waking up only to find out that Fawkes, who was the reason he had become unconscious in the first place, was not there was cause for slight aggravation. Throwing on a clean set of black robes, he fixed his hair up as best he could and walked out into the common room, only to find Hermione already waiting for him.

“That was quick,” they both said simultaneously, cause chuckles from both of them.

“Guess we both get ready quickly, huh?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Apparently,” Hermione replied. “Shall we?”

“Of course,” Harry said, opening the entrance way for her. “How come we haven’t seen any other the other teachers around yet?”

“They move in the same day the students do, most of the time,” Hermione replied. “From what I know about Snape, he has his own personal quarters down in the dungeons.”

“Ah.”

They arrived at the entrance hall a few moments later and walked into the Great Hall, which was, save for the other teachers seated already, empty. They walked up to the head table and were promptly greeted by Professor McGonagal.

“Glad to see you made it on time, Harry,” she said warmly. “You two can sit in the spots you were using over the summer.”

“Thank you Minerva,” Harry replied with a smile. “Who’ll be showing the first years around, since you’re the headmistress now?”

“Hagrid is still bringing them across the lake,” she replied as Harry and Hermione took their seats. “I believe Filius has volunteered to lead them into the Great Hall from now on.”

“Er...Minerva?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“Since you’re the headmistress now, who’s the head of Gryffindor House?” Hermione asked.

“Hmm...I have yet to name one,” McGonagal said, looking around at the assembled teachers. “Out of everyone here, you two are the only ones from Gryffindor. Would either you like to have the job?”

“Erm...I haven’t really done any kind of teaching before,” Harry confessed. “So I think we can rule me out.”

“Well...I don’t know how well I could possibly do it, seeing as how I’ve never taught either,” Hermione said. “But if you’re willing to let me try, I’ll certainly give it my best.”

“Very well then,” McGonagal said with a smile. “You’re the new head of Gryffindor House. Just make sure to check up on your students every once in a while, and make sure the prefects always alert you of password changes.”

“Got it,” Hermione said with determination.

“Think you can handle it?” Harry asked with a grin as the students began to file in the hall.

“Well, if your story about me and the time-turner in my third year is true, I should be able to handle this,” Hermione replied with a smile. “Oh, Minerva?”

“Hmm?”

“We were wondering if we could use your floo after the feast was over, Harry needs to contact Albus.”

“Of course,” McGonagal said. “I’ll have some business to attend to, so you can just go on up without me.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied.

“Anytime.”

The students filed in rather quickly, and before long the Sorting Hat was on its trademark stool putting the wary first years into their houses. Harry noted that there were no names worth remembering and soon Minerva was on her feet, giving the welcoming speech.

“I would like to welcome each and every one of you back to Hogwarts for another year,” she said. “Students are, as always, reminded that the Forbidden Forest is exactly that, no magic is allowed in the halls, and the complete list of banned magical items can be found on our Argus Filch’s office door.” There was a slight murmuring at the traditional announcements. “I would now like to announce our two newest teachers. As you know, when I became the headmistress over this past summer, the Transfiguration position opened. I am most proud to tell you has been filled by none other than Miss Hermione Granger, who was Head Girl in her time here.”

There was a polite applause from most of the crowd, except for a few of the six and seventh years who had been around during Hermione’s reign as Head Girl, who made sure their claps were heard above the rest.

“Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has fought in many a battle, and is one of the most qualified teachers you will ever have in the subject,” McGonagal continued. “I would ask you to please welcome Mister Harry Potter.”

It was the complete lack of strange response that Harry found amusing as he rose from his seat. There were no soft murmurings, no strange whispers, no cat calls, and no tumultuous cheers. There was only polite applause, just as there had been for Hermione.

“And now, we have a feast to eat! Tuck in!” McGonagal exclaimed, and immediately the tables were groaning under the weight of the heaping mounds of food that had appeared.

=====

The feast, all in all, was a rather uneventful one. Following the departure of the students, Harry and Hermione walked to the stone gargoyle and proceeded up to the headmistress’ office. Wasting no time, Hermione seized a handful of floo and tossed it into the fireplace, calling out, “Albus Dumbledore.”

A moment passed and Dumbledore’s head appeared in the fire, a smile on his face.

“Ah,” he said, looking up at Harry and Hermione. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you two. Feeling alright, Harry?”

“I’d feel better if Fawkes was around,” he said honestly.

“He has just returned,” Dumbledore said. “He was speaking with his brother about Voldemort’s plans.”

“Fawkes has a brother?” Hermione asked.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore replied. “I have been able to determine that it was his brother’s tears in the mixture that revitalised Tom Riddle. Apparently Fawkes and Traethis had been planning your return for quite some time, Harry.”

“Well, now that he’s back, can I speak with him?” Harry asked.

“Naturally,” Dumbledore replied. “He’s probably already back on the perch in your room.”

“Oh.”

“Albus,” Hermione spoke up. “There’s something else we need to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Right before the feast...Harry changed the properties of the castle.”

“Really?” Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling. “How so?”

“He...erm...”

“I created a door between Hermione’s room and mine,” Harry said unabashedly. He knew that while it was probably bad form, Dumbledore probably wouldn’t mind.

“And it serves its function perfectly?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes,” Harry replied.

“Well that is good news then,” Dumbledore said. “I suggest going and talking to Fawkes, he will be able to enlighten you on that subject more than I could.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry said. “Erm...how have you been, Albus?”

“Well enough,” he replied. “It’s okay, Harry, you don’t need to make small talk with me.”

“Okay,” he said with a laugh. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Albus replied. “Take care, Hermione.”

“You too, Albus.”

Dumbledore’s head vanished from the fire with a pop, and Harry and Hermione wasted no time in hurrying back to Harry’s room.

When they arrived there, sure enough, Fawkes was sitting on his perch, looking for all the world as if Harry and Hermione were the least punctual people in the world.

“Erm...hello Fawkes,” Harry said. For a moment the phoenix regarded him carefully.

“Hello.”

“Did it work?” Hermione asked, hearing only phoenix song. Harry nodded.

“I can understand you now,” Harry said, smiling.

“I know,” Fawkes replied.

“So...er...could you tell me about the prophecy?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No.”

“Come again?”

“I said no,” Fawkes replied. “You are not ready.”

“Excuse me?” Harry asked indignantly. “How come you get to decide when I’m ready?”

“Because I’m the one who holds the prophecy,” Fawkes said. “You hear me now not because of natural causes, but because of dark magic. You are not ready to hear what I have to say.”

“When will I be?” Harry asked impatiently.

“I don’t suppose we’ll know now, will we?” Fawkes said.

“I...but...” Harry spluttered. “Dumbledore said this would help! Why would he suggest something if it would be pointless to do it?”

“Who said it was pointless?” Fawkes asked. “You can now communicate with me.”

“But...I thought the whole point of that was so you could tell me the prophecy.”

“Prophecies are not something to be taken lightly, as you well remember from your fifth year,” Fawkes said. “Imagine if Dumbledore, instead of waiting, had told you the contents of the prophecy when you were eleven, lying in the hospital wing after defeating Quirrell? What do you think you would’ve done?”

“Probably something stupid, like going off and trying to find him,” Harry said after a moment.

“In short, you weren’t ready to hear it,” Fawkes said. “You’re not ready yet. Soon, but not right now.”

“So what do I do until then?” Harry asked.

“You must continue to live your life,” Fawkes said. “It is not wise to rush things. Learn to calm your thoughts, your emotions.”

“You sound a bit like Snape when he was teaching me Occlumency,” Harry said.

“In words, yes,” Fawkes said. “But I promise you, when I tell you to calm your mind, it doesn’t mean the same thing as when he says to calm your mind.”

“What’s the difference?” Harry asked.

“Severus would have you use force to accomplish the task,” Fawkes said. “He would make you ‘try’ to calm your mind. Trying accomplishes nothing. You must ‘do’. Just be at peace.”

“Easier said than done,” Harry said.

“You will learn,” Fawkes said. “Or else I fear there is no hope for any of us.”

Those words affected Harry more than any other he had heard in a long time, save for when Hermione told him she loved him. He sighed and sank down onto his bed, putting his arm over his eyes. Hermione sat down next to him and began to gently run her finger through his hair.

“To answer your question about your creation of the door, which I know you have forgotten about in your disappointment,” Fawkes said lightly. “I give you the same answer as before. You are not yet ready to know why.”

“Gee, thanks,” Harry replied.

“I will reside in Hermione’s room from now on,” he heard Fawkes say. “I neither wish to intrude on your time, nor do I wish to witness what you do with it.” With a bang the phoenix disappeared, along with his perch.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked.

“He’s going to live in your room so he doesn’t have to watch us do anything,” Harry replied. “Cheeky git, isn’t he?”

“I heard that.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at hearing Fawkes’ voice from the other side of the wall.

“So I take it he didn’t tell you anything?” Hermione asked gently.

“He said I wasn’t ready,” Harry replied. “Said that I have to calm my mind first.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do that,” Hermione said. “You seem to be able to do anything if you put your mind to it.”

“How so?” Harry asked.

“You got me to fall for you, didn’t you?” she asked with a smile.

“I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Harry replied with a grin.

“Perhaps you’d like me to try helping you calm your mind,” she said, reaching down and grasping him through his trousers.

“If you insist,” Harry replied with a smile.

---------------

Sorry it’s up a little late, I had a recital to go to that kept me from updating in the afternoon. I hope you all enjoyed it...you’ll get to see Harry teach his first class next week.

I really don’t have much to say this time around. Hopefully this chapter will be better than the last two...I haven’t been really pleased with either. As always, just let me know what you think. Reviews always make my day. ::wink::

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Chapter 10: The Unforgiveables, Round Two

“Harry?”

“Mmph,” Harry mumbled into his pillow.

“Come on, we have to get ready for breakfast,” Hermione said rubbing small circles in his back.

“Mmmm....if you keep doing that I’ll fall right back asleep,” Harry said with a grin. Hermione removed her hand to which Harry lifted his head and blinked at her. “I didn’t say stop.”

“C’mon, sleepy,” she said tossing his robes onto the bed. “I have to get dressed and leave from my room so it doesn’t look suspicious. Don’t miss breakfast.”

“I won’t,” Harry said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Can I have a kiss before you go though? I won’t get to see you again until lunch.”

Hermione smiled at him and kissed him soundly on the lips. Winking, she grabbed some clothes and opened the new door to her room. Harry distinctly heard Fawkes chirp at her before the door closed.

He sighed and got dressed quickly, eager to be away from Hermione for as little time as possible. He finished and taking a quick glance in the mirror, stepped out of his room and walked headlong into Ron.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” the red head shouted, rubbing his head.

“Sorry,” Harry replied, grinning. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“We’ve been training extra hard because the playoffs are just around the corner,” Ron said. “I wanted to come and wish Hermione good luck teaching. You too, since you’re here.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“How’ve you two been?” Ron asked.

“Good,” Harry said, trying to avoid the topic from progressing much further. “Your wife came by about a month ago.”

“How was she?” Ron asked, losing his focus. “Not too strange, I hope?”

“Hardly,” Harry said. “The interview was most enjoyable.”

“Harry, have you seen my wand?” Hermione asked opening the door to the common room, not seeing Ron. “I looked in your room, but I can’t find it.”

“Why would your wand be in Harry’s room?” Ron asked.

“Ron!” she exclaimed. “I...I erm...didn’t see you there.”

“I figured,” Ron replied. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room for a minute until Ron spoke again. “So...why would your wand be in Harry’s room?”

“We were working on a lesson plan together,” she lied.

“You finished that months ago,” Ron replied. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Harry and Hermione shared a nervous glance with each other before she sighed and walked over to Ron.

“Ron....Harry and I have been sort of...well, living together,” she said in a hushed tone.

“What?” Ron exclaimed in a whisper. “But....” he lowered his voice even further hoping that Harry couldn’t hear his next words. “You mean like...living living?”

“Yes, Ron,” Hermione answered, looking him in the eyes.

“But....what if he hurts you?” Ron asked so softly Harry almost couldn’t make out what he said.

“He wont,” Hermione replied.

“How do you know?”

“Ask Luna,” Harry interjected, causing both of them to turn and look at him.

“Luna?” Ron asked. “What does she have to do with this?”

“She knows my entire story,” Harry said. “There’s a lot more to my life than you know, Ron. Hermione and Luna both know it.”

“I read the interview,” Ron said. “There wasn’t anything special about it.”

“She lied for both our benefits,” Harry replied. “If she printed the truth, she’d probably have gotten committed and I’d have gotten sacked for sure.”

“Wha –”

“Just ask her Ron,” Hermione said. “She’ll explain everything better than I could.”

“Er....alright,” Ron replied.

“Why are you here anyway?” Hermione asked.

“I wanted to wish you good luck teaching,” Ron said. “Don’t let the little midgets get to you.”

“Ron, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. They. Are. Not. Midgets,” Hermione said adamantly.

“When did I first start calling them that again?” Ron asked with a wistful smile on his face.

“When you were made a prefect in your fifth year,” Harry said without thinking. Ron’s head turned so fast, Harry was surprised it didn’t spin around completely.

“How...?”

“Ask Luna,” Harry simply replied.

“Er....right,” Ron said, embracing Hermione. “Good luck then.”

“Thank you, Ron.”

“You too, Harry.”

“Thanks, just make sure to ask Luna. She’ll explain everything.”

“Right,” Ron said. “C’mon, I’ll walk you guys to the Great Hall.”

The trip to the Great Hall was relatively quiet, the only conversation was Hermione asking how Luna was doing with everything at home. They reached the Entrance Hall and went their separate ways, Ron through the doors onto the grounds, Harry and Hermione into the Great Hall.

They saw immediately realised that they were rather late to breakfast, as most of the student body was already seated and eating. They took their usual seats at the head table and found two schedules sitting on the table at their places.

“Your timetables,” McGonagal said to them. “Just so you know when you have the given years and breaks.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, spreading jam onto a muffin while looking over her schedule.

“Fourth years first,” Harry commented, sipping on a goblet filled with orange juice. “Then seventh. Fifth years after lunch, and third years last. Lupin’s class.”

“You must miss him,” Hermione said, looking sadly at Harry.

“I do,” Harry confessed. “What about you? You’ve been so collected about your parents’ deaths, you’d hardly know they were gone.”

“It was really hard at first,” Hermione said simply. “But a wise man told me that to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

“I believe that was Dumbledore,” Harry said. Hermione smiled at him.

“It also helped that I had a wonderful man to keep my mind off things,” she said softly, causing Harry to blush.

“Not here,” he said. “Don’t want to students to get any bad ideas.”

“Like that stopped you while you were in school,” Hermione scoffed.

“How would you know?” Harry retorted playfully.

“I have good instincts,” Hermione said. “By the way, you didn’t tell me that you told Luna everything.”

“I didn’t have to,” Harry said. “She remembered.”

“What?” Hermione asked, shocked.

“Did you know that Luna apparently has some Seer gifts?” he asked. Hermione nodded. “Well she Saw everything that happened to me...us before it did, and was able to defend herself from the mass memory charm. The ‘interview’ was just really us reminiscing about our school days.”

“I hope we can do that someday,” Hermione said longingly.

“I’ll find a way, Hermione,” Harry said. “I promise.”

“We’ll find a way,” she corrected with a smile, to which Harry nodded.

“You two should get to your classrooms and prepare,” McGonagal said. “You want to make a good first impression.”

“Okay,” Harry said, standing up. “See you later.”

“See you,” Hermione said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, you too,” Harry replied.

Harry arrived at the familiar classroom fifteen minutes before the class was supposed to start. As he had forgotten them, he summoned the lesson plans from his room.

“Accio,” he muttered to himself with a smile. “Figures I’m teaching the same year I learned that spell in.”

He chuckled as he started reading over the lesson plan he had made for the fourth year class. Although his own experience with Defense Against the Dark Arts in fourth year had been marred by the fact that his teacher was really a very deadly death eater in disguise, he had learned a lot, and decided (after receiving approval from Dumbledore and McGonagal) to teach the class the same way. He had just finished reading over the plan when the first students began to file in.

“Take any seat,” Harry said as they walked in. “I’m not fussy about you sitting next to your mates, as long as you keep the chatter to a minimum.”

This seemed to please most everyone, one boy (Harry guessed him to be a Hufflepuff from his extremely kind disposition) even told Harry about how Snape never let them sit where they wanted anymore, to which he could only chuckle. When everyone was seated, Harry took out the attendance list from his robes and called off everyone’s names.

“Excuse me, sir?” a boy from the back asked when Harry was done.

“Yes?” Harry asked.

“Will you be staying for more than one year?”

A round of soft chuckles broke out at this question, and even Harry couldn’t contain the smile on his face.

“Let’s see...” he said, looking over the attendance list again. “You’re Tobias Waltham, right?” The boy nodded. “I’ve been told by many of my peers that this job is indeed cursed. However, unless Professor Snape plans on doing me in so he can fill the position, I plan on remaining here as long as possible.” This caused more laughter from the students.

“Sir?” a girl near the front asked, waving her hand like Hermione did when she had to know something.

“Yes...Melinda?”

“Headmistress McGonagal said at the Welcoming Feast that you had been in many battles,” she said. “Is that true?”

Harry sighed and looked the girl square in the eyes.

“What do you think?” he asked kindly.

“Well, you have that scar on your forehead,” Melinda replied, pointing to the lighting-shaped cut that was nearly hidden from view by his bangs. “So I’d say yes.”

“That would be an accurate answer,” Harry said, nodding.

“Who’d you fight?” someone in the back blurted out. Harry looked up to see who the question-asker was, but couldn’t identify the person.

“Many,” Harry answered. “All of whom were very dark wizards and witches.”

“Were you an auror?” another student asked.

“I wanted to be,” Harry said, taking a seat on top of his desk.

“Why didn’t you become one?” Melinda asked.

“Motivation never met opportunity, I guess,” Harry replied. “Listen, we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here so that you learn what you have to face out there, in the world where everything isn’t as nice and cozy as it is here at Hogwarts.”

“What are you going to be teaching us, then?” Tobias asked.

“There are three curses more heavily punished than any others in the wizarding world,” Harry said, looking at Tobias. “Who can tell me what they are?”

A few hands went up, and Harry was not surprised to see that Melinda’s was one of them. He didn’t call on her, however, and instead chose a skinny, pale boy towards the back.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” the boy said. Harry looked at the attendance sheet for the boy’s name.

“Thomas Sanlow?” Harry asked. The boy nodded. “How do you know about that one?”

“My aunt and uncle were tortured to insanity by it,” he said gravely. “I hadn’t even been born then, but my mum and dad talk about it all the time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry said. “I know someone whose parents suffered the same fate. Yes, the Cruciatus Curse is the most painful curse known to wizard-kind. I will not show you how it works, not even on something like an insect, because it is also quite painful to watch.”

“Professor?” Melinda asked.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been under the Cruciatus Curse?” Harry sighed.

“Not only have I been under it, I’ve seen loved ones tortured by it as well,” he said. “And it hurts just as much to see someone you love under it.”

“It’s really that bad?” Thomas asked from his seat. Harry frowned, pulled out a very long piece of parchment, and placed it on his desk before pulling out his wand.

“Crucio!” he yelled, bringing forth all his hatred of Lord Voldemort. The parchment blackened and crumpled in on itself, though no fire was present to cause such an effect. The paper continued to crinkle and smolder until Harry lifted the curse and turned back to face the class.

“That,” he said, “Is what happens to your body.”

Looking around the room, Harry noticed that one or two of the students had turned an eerie shade of white.

“Does anyone else know one of the other two curses most heavily punished?” he asked.

Just like in Harry’s fourth year, fewer hands were raised and he called on a small girl in the back.

“The Imperius Curse,” she said.

“That’s right,” Harry replied. “Also known as the Mind-Control Curse. This, I will show you.” Harry looked around the room for some sort of bug, and (thanks largely in part to his seeker eyes) found a fly lurking on the wall near the window. “Accio!” The bug zoomed straight into his outstretched hand. He quickly stunned it and placed it on the desk, enlarging it so the class could see it better. “Now watch carefully. Ennervate. Imperio!”

Harry noted that the sensation was similar to being influenced by the curse, only that this time he was giving commands, instead of listening to them. He made the fly zoom around everyone’s heads a few times before making it dive at his desk while making a noise like a bomber plane. When he lifted the curse, he shrunk the fly and it flew off in an erratic pattern.

“Cool,” said someone near the front amidst chuckles.

“Cool?” Harry asked with a frown. “What if someone made you do that?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” the same voice, a boy, said.

“What if they made you murder your parents in their sleep?” Harry asked, his voice a deadly whisper. That silenced the class immediately. “These curses that I’m showing you are not to be messed around with. They are all equally deadly for a reason. Now, does anyone know the last one?”

Only Melinda’s hand was raised in the now shocked classroom.

“Yes, Melinda.”

“The Avada Kedavra,” she whispered, as if scared to see him perform the spell.

“The killing curse,” he said simply, taking his seat upon his desktop again. “I don’t have the capacity to cast it, and before you ask, I seriously doubt any of you do either. The killing curse requires such an amount of hatred along with a pleasure to cause pain and death, that only the darkest of wizards can cast it successfully. It is what gave me the scar on my forehead.” He pushed back his bangs so everyone could see.

“If the curse is meant to kill, how did you live?” Melinda asked in awe.

“It wasn’t pure,” Harry said, recalling Dumbledore’s words. “It was tainted by my mother’s love, who died to save my life.”

There was a hushed silence at these words, the class too stunned to speak.

“Those three curses are what’s known as the Unforgiveable Curses,” Harry said. “The use of any of them on a human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban.”

“Did you ever use them on someone else?” Melinda asked. Harry sighed as he thought back to when he transferred his powers to Tom Riddle in the distant past.

“No,” he lied, figuring it was best if they didn’t know that he had in fact tried to kill someone, even though that person was the epitome of evil through and through. “Now then, let’s talk about some of the less punished illegal curses...”

=====

Harry sat down to lunch at the head table with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

“Remember how I told you that I was going to teach the Unforgiveables to the fourth year?” Harry asked, to which Hermione nodded. “It affected me more than I thought it would.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said sadly, grabbing his hand under the tablecloth. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “The dueling in the seventh year class helped take my mind off things, but when I walked in here and saw you I couldn’t help but remember when you were being tortured by Voldemort.”

“Will you be okay?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, I think so...” Harry said. “It’s just weird teaching things when I used to come here and learn them.”

“Tell me about it,” Hermione said. “I almost messed up the incantation to switching spells today. Think of the disaster that would’ve been. My first day on the job, and I give the students a bum spell.”

“I’m sure you would’ve corrected it in a heartbeat,” Harry grinned. He opened his mouth to say something but suddenly the smell of burning wood, grass, and (sickeningly) flesh reached his nostrils and he coughed several times before speaking.

“Something’s...happening,” he gasped. Hermione opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the smell reached her and she had to cover her mouth to keep from retching. Harry quickly ran from the Great Hall as McGonagal was telling everyone to stay calm amidst the sounds of coughing and vomiting. He barreled through the doors in the Entrance Hall out onto the grounds and fell to his knees in shock as Hermione quickly reached him, and gasped at the sight that lay before them.

Hogsmeade was burning.

And the Dark Mark was hovering a hundred feet above it.

---------------

The action begins! There was something I was going to say here but I don’t remember it, so if I screwed up at all, just let me know in a review and I’ll get to fixing it. Hope you enjoyed this one (I actually enjoyed writing it), I’ll see you all next week.

ONLY A WEEK UNTIL HBP!!!! SQUEEEEEEE!!!!

And I get a nice mini-vacation to Montreal for the first three days of next week to help pass the time. One quick note before we get underway. I’m not entirely sure whether or not I’ll be able to keep my tradition and make the last chapter 10,000 words. There’s a lot that needs to be said, but I’m not sure exactly how much. We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess ::wink:: .

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Chapter 11: The Death Eaters

Harry gazed at the flames and smoke rising from the nearby village with wide eyes. The rank smell of burnt flesh continued to waft from Hogsmeade, while the Dark Mark hung lazily in the sky above it.

In truth, the shock Harry experienced at seeing the destruction evaporated quickly. Dumbledore had predicted, after all, the Voldemort was going to strike very quickly. The only thing truly bothering Harry was that there wasn’t a sound in the air aside from the heavy breathing of himself and Hermione. There were no screams, no cries of spells being cast, not even the flames that rose fifteen feet into the air made a sound as they consumed the wood and thatch the buildings were made of. In fact, it was because there was so little noise that when Harry heard the doors to the Entrance Hall open, he whipped around (giving Hermione quite a scare), and drew his wand at the approaching person, who just happened to be Snape.

“Watch where you’re pointing that thing, Potter,” Snape snarled before he realised what was happening in the background. Harry swore that had there been any color in Snape’s pasty face to begin with, it would’ve disappeared upon his seeing the village in flames. Harry was about to open his mouth say something when Snape’s eyes flicked up to the Dark Mark and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his left arm.

“Snape?” Harry asked, approaching him tentatively. The potions master was breathing heavily and from the grinding sound that Harry heard, probably gnashing his teeth as well.

“I remember,” Snape ground out. “I remember everything.”

“Well that’s nice,” Harry said sarcastically. “And as much as I’d like to reminisce right now, we have to decide what to do about this.”

“We have to go down there and see if there are any survivors,” Hermione said.

“There won’t be,” Snape interjected. “He’ll have killed everyone already. He’s just trying to draw you down there.”

“Well what if there are people who’re alive?” Harry asked. “Listen.” He paused for a second to let the unnatural silence be heard. “Hear that? That’s not right. It’s not right for it to be that quiet. I’ll bet anything that death eaters put up silencing charms around the perimeter in order to keep everything quiet while they rampaged through the village. There could be a fight down there right now that we should be helping.”

“Listen to me,” Snape said. “I may hate you as much as I hated your father, but your death won’t solve anything right now. The Dark Lord wants you do go down in that village. There’s no other reason for him to fire the Mark into the sky. And the last thing you do in war is what your enemy wants.”

“Well, what do you suggest then, oh supremely intelligent one?” Harry spat.

“Talk to Fawkes.”

A considerable pause came after these words, partially from the shock that not only had Snape made a good suggestion, he had made it to Harry.

“He’s right,” Hermione said. “We should go talk to him. Find out what he thinks we should do.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “Snape, go back inside and warn the other teachers of what’s happening. Merlin knows I’m no great shakes with large-crowd security, but get the students safe.”

“Thank you, Potter. I suddenly remembered that I have no idea what to do in times of emergency.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said. “Let’s go.”

Harry and Hermione sprinted past Snape into the Entrance Hall and up the stairs that would take them to the teachers’ quarters. They were almost halfway there when they saw Fawkes flying towards them at an alarming rate of speed.

“Fawkes!” Harry shouted in order to get the phoenix to slow down. Surprisingly, just as it seemed that Fawkes was about to barrel headlong into Hermione, the bird halted in mid-air and fluttered down to the ground.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said to Harry. “I take it you know what’s going on?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “How do you know?”

“Traethis alerted me of the attack about ten minutes ago,” Fawkes said. “I would’ve come after you sooner, but I had to alert Dumbledore.”

“So the attack’s only begun?” Harry asked, to which Fawkes nodded. “We’ve got no time to lose then, let’s go.”

“Hold on to my tail,” Fawkes said, flying up to Harry shoulder height. Harry promptly grabbed Fawkes’ tail and turned to Hermione.

“Grab on,” he said, which Hermione did immediately without question. The three of them disappeared with a bang.

They reappeared in one of the back alleys of Hogsmeade and Harry found immediately that his hypothesis of a silencing charm around the village was a good one. Shouts and bangs could be heard coming from several different directions, and Harry quickly backed against the nearest wall, trying to form a good plan of attack.

“We should move around to the right,” Fawkes said. “My brother said that they would be attacking from the south end.”

“Explain to me how your brother knows all of the death eaters’ plans,” Harry said looking at his surroundings for ideas.

“He’s been living with Bellatrix Lestrange for the past six months,” Fawkes said. At Harry’s stunned expression he continued. “I will explain in greater detail later. Now is not the time for such a conversation.”

“Can we figure out what we’re going to do here?” Hermione asked.

“Tell her that Dumbledore should be arriving momentarily,” Fawkes instructed Harry.

“Fawkes says that Dumbledore will be here any minute –”

The words were barely out of Harry’s mouth when a huge bang was heard from what he guessed to be about three hundred yards to their right, followed a moment later by a bright, silver flash.

“That’s our cue,” Fawkes said. “Move into the street, and curse anything that moves.” Harry turned and repeated the instructions to Hermione

“What about villagers?” she asked.

“They won’t be moving,” Fawkes replied as they began to move towards the end of the alley. “That bright flashed immobilized everyone except for those bearing the Dark Mark or conveniently standing within five feet of a phoenix.”

“They’ll be frozen in place,” Harry said as they reached the end. Without wasting time, they hurtled out into the street, firing curses at the first black cloaks they saw. Harry saw another death eater out of the corner of his eye and spun to meet the person head on, but froze when he saw the familiar black hair cascading down from underneath the person’s hood.

“Well, well, if it isn’t wee little Potty and his mudblood,” Bellatrix said, taking off her mask. “And a phoenix...I have a phoenix too, you know.” There was a sharp crack and a phoenix appeared on her shoulder, though this one was distinctly different from Fawkes.

Although it was quite obvious that this bird was a phoenix (and Fawkes’ brother, at that, given how similar they looked physically), instead of the traditional red and gold plumage, this bird was mainly black with purple markings. It emitted a soft cry upon gaining balance on Bellatrix’s shoulder.

“That’s Traethis,” Fawkes said to Harry softly.

“I figured,” Harry replied.

“You can speak phoenix?” Bellatrix asked as three cloaked figures walked up behind her. “How very disinteresting. Though I should’ve expected you’d learn a pointless ability such as that.” Traethis squawked loudly at this. “You see, he agrees with me.”

“He said that Voldemort is here, that he doesn’t know where he is,” Fawkes said. “But you can kill LeStrange.”

“How?” Harry asked.

“We will create a diversion,” Fawkes said, eyeing his brother carefully. “Go.”

Fawkes and Traethis sped into the air at each other and a fiery shockwave was created when they collided. Harry (and Hermione, as she had deduced what was going on) quickly cast flame freezing charms to protect themselves, but Bellatrix had been distracted by the sudden fight between the birds and failed to do anything in time. While she was physically unharmed, her robe and the other three death eaters’ robes had caught fire. Using the distraction to their advantage, Harry and Hermione unleashed a barrage of spells at the four of them, while the two phoenixes, seeing their opening, flew at breakneck speed towards the death eaters.

Unfortunately, one of the death eaters managed to extinguish his flames just in time to see Fawkes and Traethis barreling at them, and, using the first spell that came to his head, cast a severing charm at Traethis.

Everyone was surprised when the spell connected, and even more surprised when the bird’s head was severed from his shoulders. Fawkes took one look at his fallen brother at let out a cry (though some would call it more of a roar) and suddenly glowing orange, threw his magical energy at the death eater, who promptly erupted in a shower of flames. Wasting no time, Fawkes grabbed the head of his brother in one talon, his body in the other, and disappeared with a large crack.

By this time Harry and Hermione were upon the remaining death eaters. They quickly stunned the two that were not Bellatrix, and Harry kicked her to the ground, pinning her by planting his foot on her chest. Hermione quickly grabbed her wand from beside her.

“Whatcha gonna do, Potty?” she spat. “Kill me like I killed Sirius?”

“You act like I don’t have it in me,” Harry replied, no humor in his words.

“I know you don’t have it in you,” she said. “You couldn’t Crucio me in the Ministry, what makes you think you can Avada Kedavra me now?”

“Who says I have to kill you using that particular curse?” Harry asked with a evil laugh. “Your henchman gave me a rather good idea, if I don’t mind saying so.” Bella’s eyes widened when she figured out what Harry meant, but before she could utter so much as a plea, Harry had raised his wand and shouted, “Parsius!” effectively doing the same to Bellatrix as what happened to Traethis. Hermione groaned and turned away from the blood, but gasped when she saw what was at the other end of the street.

“Harry...” she said slowly.

“What?” he asked, he eyes trained on the severed head of Bellatrix lying a little ways away from her body.

“Look behind you.”

He turned and froze.

“Oh balls.”

About a hundred death eaters were packed into the little street, each looking at Harry as though he were some form of small-game animal that was being cornered by a lion.

“How the hell did he bolster his ranks so fast?” Harry asked aloud. There was no time for anyone to answer him though, as a large crack permeated the quiet and Dumbledore appeared between the death eaters and Harry and Hermione.

“Hide!” Dumbledore yelled as a barrage of spells flew at him. Harry briefly saw them hit an invisible wall, which pulsed white as each spell hit, before turning and running with Hermione back into the alley they first appeared in.

“What do we do?” Hermione asked, peeking out around the corner. “He won’t be able to hold them off forever.”

Harry glanced down at the ground and saw a knut lying at his feet. An idea struck him and he looked up.

“Hermione...you’re good at Transfiguration,” he said. “Could you turn something small like a knut into something large like a boulder?”

“I couldn’t do a knut, because currency is magically protected,” she said. “But something else, yes, I could probably do that. Why?”

“Because I just had a great idea,” he said, picking up a small pebble from the ground. “Conjurus!” Instantly, a ladder to the roof of the building they were leaning against appeared. Harry quickly started to climb it, Hermione close behind him, sensing his plan.

Once on the roof, Harry and Hermione quickly jumped from building to building until they were near where the wave of death eaters was slowly advancing toward Dumbledore.

“How good’s your aim?” Harry asked.

“If you mean to throw that pebble in the air and have me transfigure it while it’s moving, not good,” she replied. “I don’t think many people, if any, could do that.”

“We’ll have to do it the old fashioned way then,” Harry said, placing the pebble on the edge of the roof. Hermione, catching on, transfigured the pebble into a solid stone slab that was standing on its side and ran the length of the building.

“Bludgeoning curses on three then,” Hermione said. “Aim for the top.” Harry nodded. “One, two, three!”

Harry and Hermione simultaneously cast their curses at the top of the stone slab, which, upon impact, teetered precariously on the edge for a moment before falling over and landing on the street below with an extremely loud thud.

They chanced a glance over the edge and saw a thick cloud of dust covering the stone, but could make out several crushed bodies in black cloaks along the sides of the stone. Down the street, Dumbledore lowered his wand and apparated in front of the building that Harry and Hermione were on top of.

“That was a rather clever idea, if I do say so myself,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully, looking around at destruction. “And very little collateral damage too.”

Harry conjured a large foam pad on top of the slab of stone and jumped from the roof onto it, followed a moment thereafter by Hermione.

“Good work,” Dumbledore said. “But where is Fawkes?”

“Traethis got beheaded by a death eater,” Harry said. “Fawkes disappeared with him.” Dumbledore’s face fell considerably at this.

“Won’t Traethis be okay though?” Hermione asked. “I mean, I didn’t think phoenixes could die.”

“They can only die if their mind is separated from their soul,” Dumbledore said. “And unfortunately, the soul resides in the heart, and the mind resides...well, in the mind.”

“So, his brother’s dead, then?” Harry asked. “Like, dead permanently?”

“I’m afraid so,” Dumbledore said sadly. They were all quiet for a moment until a crash in one of the nearby buildings brought them back to their senses. “It appears we haven’t dealt with everyone yet,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Albus,” Harry asked as the jogged towards the building, which happened to be the Three Broomsticks, “how did Voldemort get so many followers so quickly?”

“From what I’ve been told, Bellatrix and the other death eaters in Tom’s inner circle did a lot of recruiting before they brought him back,” Dumbledore said as they neared the pub. “Nothing to the extent of actually initiating people, but opening them to the ideals that they held and such. All they needed before they could act was a leader.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks and Dumbledore wasted no time in blowing down the door with a small flick of his wand and walking inside, Harry and Hermione close behind him.

The sight inside was one that made Harry’s eyes bug. There were several hostages bound and gagged behind which four or five death eaters were hiding. Harry didn’t know most of the people, but he did recognise three immediately. Madam Rosemerta was tied firmly next to Luna, who was beside Ron.

“Well, well,” a sinister voice said. “If it isn’t the champion of muggles and wonder boy themselves.”

“Macnair,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I suggest you relinquish the hostages and give yourselves up. The penalties will be less harsh.”

“Like we’d give anyone up,” Macnair said. “You fire a single spell at me, and I’ll kill everyone here.”

Harry’s mind was racing. He had to do something and fast. All of a sudden he caught sight of Ron shaking his foot at him. Macnair, involved in his heated arguing match with Dumbledore failed to notice.

Harry looked at Ron and saw the redhead move his eyes to Harry’s left. He followed his gaze and saw a several empty bottles residing on the counter-top of the bar. Getting an idea, Harry silently levitated the bottles over the heads of each of the death eaters, with the exception of Macnair. When they were in position, he brought them down on the hooded figures with a resounding crash, knocking them unconscious. This caused Macnair to divert his attention for a split second and Dumbledore took advantage of that momentary lapse to throw Macnair against the wall. He had him pinned with his right forearm a moment later.

“Get everyone out of here, Harry,” Dumbledore said, his gaze not leaving his captive’s. Harry and Hermione quickly undid the bonds of everyone, who fled from the building. When they got to Ron and Luna, the two quickly undid the bonds and pulled them to their feet.

“What took you guys so long?” Ron asked.

“Your welcome, Ron,” Hermione said.

“Get back to the castle,” Dumbledore said. “Get help, I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of the death eaters yet.”

Harry and Hermione wasted no time in flying from the pub, closely followed by Ron and Luna.

“What were you two doing there anyway?” Harry asked as they were running towards the castle.

“I told Luna to meet me there for lunch to discuss everything you told me about,” Ron said. “We heard a commotion outside and were about to go check it out when those nutters came in and took us captive.”

“What do we do now?” Hermione asked as they reached the castle.

“We start looking for teachers,” Harry said. “We’ll check the Great Hall to see if anyone’s left there, then search the rest of the school by house.”

He flung open the doors to the entrance hall and was surprised by two things. The first was that all the students and faculty were still there. The second was the voice that sounded upon their entrance.

“Took, you long enough, Potter.”

Voldemort was seated at the head table, flanked by Peter Pettigrew and Lucius Malfoy.

---------------

Well there it is. At this point in time, I would ask that everyone reading this take a moment and pray for the people in London who were affected by the bombings yesterday morning. It is truly a sad story to see such harm come to people, no matter the nationality. So just give a thought to our friends from Great Britain, and don’t forget that if it hadn’t been for a certain very special one of them, we wouldn’t have this wonderful world to write fanfiction about.

Next week, the exciting conclusion of the story, and (more importantly)...HBP!! See you around.

HBP HBP HBP!!!!! WoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoT!

The time is finally here! YAYYYYYY!

ETA: POTENTIAL SPOILER!!!Fudge is a death eater. Well, working for Moldieshorts anyway, just have a looksee at the back cover of the Deluxe Edition of HBP recently released by Scholastic. It’s obviously him entering that sketchy-looking shack with the blatant snake on the door. Opinions, anyone? /POTENTIAL SPOILER!!!

And that means it’s also time to end this story. Forewarning, not 10,000 words, it’s 8,000. Sorry. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. It will be longer than all of my other chapters, but I really have lost my touch for making 27 page chapters. I’m not entirely sure how you all are going to like the ending...I think Ahn Na Blue will like it, which to me is what matters the most, since it is her story that this is the sequel to. There is a part of it that’s a little A/U, as it goes against something that JKR has directly said isn’t true. I won’t say what it is, but I bet you’ll know anyway.

I want to make it clear to everyone right now, that I’m not planning to write another story after this one for quite some time. I’m moving to Los Angeles in just over two weeks, and I have packing, driving across the country, unpacking, and by that time school to do. I have a concept for what my next story MIGHT be, and I’ll give you hints about that in the end author’s note. Don’t expect anything aside from an occasional one-shot from me for a long time though. That being said, welcome to the finale!

---------------

Chapter 12: Fawkes’ Gift

Harry’s eyes darted around the hall quickly and saw that several death eaters were standing in various places, wands drawn and pointed at the students and teachers who had been herded against the side walls.

“I have to admit,” Voldemort said. “I don’t know whether to be impressed that you managed to fight your way out of the village, or dismayed at the fact that it took you so long.”

“Tom Riddle praising my abilities?” Harry asked with a mirthless laugh. “Since when do I have any skill in your book?”

“Oh trust me, Potter, you still are no match for me,” Voldemort said. “As I am about to show you.”

Harry prepared himself for a spell to be cast at him, but instead Voldemort merely raised his right hand and flicked it upwards. Harry, not knowing what to be ready for, was helpless to stop his wand being pulled from his grip and into the outstretched grasp of his enemy, causing a round of laughter to ring through the hall.

“You see?” Voldemort said, holding Harry’s wand up high. “He is still but a child.” Harry felt his heart sink as Riddle grinned and snapped his wand in two. “Seize Potter’s friends.”

A swarm of death eaters from either side engulfed Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Luna. Quickly overwhelmed, Hermione, Ron, and Luna were dragged off and forced to sit next to some students on the left side of the hall. Harry noted, however, that Hermione had managed to shove her own wand into his pocket right before she was taken.

“So that there’s no interference,” Voldemort explained with a smile as Lucius and Pettigrew went over to guard them. “I don’t want anything getting in the way when I kill you.”

“You say that every time, Tom,” Harry said. “And you haven’t been able to kill me yet.”

“Better lucky than good, I suppose,” Voldemort said with a smirk.

“How did you get into the school?” Harry asked, trying to buy some time for Dumbledore to get back from the village.”

“People make the task out to be so hard,” Voldemort said. “They forget that it’s only difficult to enter Hogwarts undetected. We caused quite a ruckus coming in here and apprehending everyone, didn’t we Lucius?” Malfoy gave a small nod. “All that I wanted was for you and the mudblood to be gone so there was little interference. As you can see, my plan worked out quite well.”

“Except for the fact that just about every death eater you sent to Hogsmeade is dead,” Harry said. Voldemort arched a grey eyebrow at this.

“All of them?” he asked.

“Everyone that I laid eyes upon,” Harry said. “And I’d guess that was over a hundred.”

“I confess to being impressed,” Voldemort said. “But it is of no concern. I’m quite positive you didn’t overcome my minions by yourself, and you surely won’t get any help right now. But enough chit-chat. I’m here to end this once and for all. Avada Kedavra!”

Harry barely had time to whip out Hermione’s wand and cast a disarming spell, which he hoped would be enough to deflect the killing curse. The result of this was unexpected by everyone in the hall. The jet of green light rebounded on Voldemort and hit his wand, causing it to explode and take several of his fingers with it. The disarming spell rebounded back at Harry impacted on the tip of Hermione’s wand, blowing it to pieces and opening a gaping wound on his hand. Both duelists looked shocked, but Harry was easily the more surprised of the two when Voldemort’s hand regenerated to perfected condition.

“A useful side effect of the potion that Bella gave me,” Voldemort said. “I seem to possess some interesting regenerative powers now.”

“Bugger,” Harry muttered as he heard Voldemort’s high cold laugh. “Now what do I do?”

As if in an answer to him, a loud bang was heard overhead and Harry looked up to see Fawkes right before he dropped something long and shiny. Harry’s reflexes allowed him to catch the object, and he noticed that it was the Sword of Gryffindor.

“Albus is in trouble, I have to help him,” Fawkes cried from above. “Good luck, Harry.” Without another word he was gone.

“Well, well, well, this does bring back a few...memories,” Voldemort said with an evil smile. It must’ve been...oh...nearly ten years ago now that you had no chance of survival, and then Dumbledore’s songbird came and brought you the Sorting Hat...and consequently the sword. You even managed to kill my basilisk with it. Well, you know what they say...if you want something done right – ” Voldemort paused and drew a long sword from a sheath at his side, only instead of having a gold hilt that was encrusted with rubies, this sword’s hilt was platinum and covered in emeralds. “ – do it yourself.” He held the sword up and Harry could barely make out the name ‘Salazzar Slytherin’ inscribed in the blade. “I found I remembered many more things than just my own past when I recovered my memory. Including the location of this very special blade.”

He saw Harry’s slightly concerned look and laughed one of his most vicious laughs.

“Scared, Potter?” he asked. “You should be. While they may not teach weapons combat in Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore, they did when I was in school. I feel that you’re at a disadvantage.”

“Good for you,” Harry said, regaining his confidence.

“Let us duel then,” Voldemort said, walking around from behind the head table and coming out onto the middle of the floor. “What say you, Harry Potter?”

“Have at you, old man,” he replied, charging full force at Voldemort.

Riddle was expecting this, he quickly parried Harry’s attack and tripped him as he went by, sending him flying face first to the ground. Hearing quick footsteps behind him, Harry rolled blindly to his left, and just barely missed being impaled on the tip of Voldemort’s sword. He quickly regained a standing position, and swung the Sword of Gryffindor hard at Voldemort’s throat. Voldemort brought his own weapon up to block, and the two swords clashed together with a loud metallic crash, accompanied by red and green sparks flying from where the two blades touched.

A sickening smile in his ancient face, Voldemort pushed off from Harry with strength not generally exhibited by people over the age of seventy-five. Both of them stepped back and assumed a fighting stance, watching each other to see who would make the first move. After about thirty seconds of this, Voldemort grew impatient and flew forward, spinning from a crouch and swinging his blade at Harry’s waist.

Harry quickly blocked and using all of his strength, forced the two swords upward from his right side, over their heads, and down to the floor on the left side with a crash. Seeing that his enemy was exposed due to the fact that he was still crouched, Harry brought his knee up to meet Voldemort’s face. There was a sickening crunch as he connected, and Voldemort stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. Blood was running down the Dark Lord’s face, his nose clearly broken. A moment later, however, the bleeding stopped and Riddle’s nose righted itself.

“Damnit,” Harry muttered as Voldemort (who was grinning madly) came in to attack him once again, this time with an overhead swing.

Instead of blocking the strike, Harry stepped aside and let Riddle’s momentum carry him forward, leaving him vulnerable again. Quickly lowering his sword, Harry brought the blade up parallel to the ground and sliced open Voldemort’s torso.

There was a gasp from the assembled students, teachers, and death eaters as a splash of blood hit the stone floor, but a moment later, Voldemort was facing Harry again, fully healed.

“As you can see Potter, I cannot be destroyed,” Voldemort said with a grin.

“As you can see, you’re not a very good sword fighter,” Harry retorted with a smile that made the look of glee on the Dark Lord’s face fall instantly. “What’s the matter, Tom? Disheartened that we finally found something I’m better than you at?”

“I’m hardly concerned with swordplay skills,” Voldemort replied. “The power to cast the Avada Kedavra...now there’s something to be proud of.”

“Sure, if you’re a deranged hermit who thinks he’s all powerful but is really years past his prime,” Harry retorted with a grin.

“Very much like Remus when I drove the dagger into his heart,” Voldemort said viciously. “Though he obviously didn’t think he was all powerful. He didn’t even put up a fight. I stunned him before the wand was even out of his robes.”

Harry growled at this.

“Or perhaps like Sirius when Bellatrix cursed him through the Veil,” he continued. “What kind of man simply allows himself to get hit in the chest by someone while they’re dueling? He was always an arrogant prat.”

Harry’s fury was starting to build.

“Or maybe...” Voldemort said with a smile. “Your father when I killed him.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my father,” Harry said in a deadly whisper.

“Hit a nerve, have I?” Voldemort chuckled. “He was pathetic. Do you know one of the spells he cast Potter? Do you? He tried to cast a shield charm to block my killing curse!” A round of laughter was heard from the death eaters at this. “I’ll tell you, James Potter may have been Head Boy in his day, but that man couldn’t duel to save his life. Or your mother’s, for that matter.”

The air around Harry was starting to crackle with the energy that was building up inside of him. He was emitting a low guttural growl, his teeth bared.

“What’s the matter, Potter?” Voldemort asked with a smile. “Does the truth hurt?”

That was it. Harry let out a roar and flew at Voldemort, his sword raised. Riddle was ready for him, and blocked the first few strikes but quickly started to succumb to the speed and fury with which Harry was striking. He forced Voldemort backwards towards the staff table, and soon Riddle found himself pinned against the table. It took only three more attacks before Harry drove the tip of his sword through Voldemort’s chest. The Dark Lord’s eyes widened and he slumped to the ground. Harry pulled the bloody sword from his foe, then stood on the table and turned to his right, facing a few death eaters.

“Who’s next?” he asked furiously.

“HARRY WATCH OUT!” Hermione bellowed from her spot. Harry did the only thing he could think of and ducked. Glancing up, he saw the blade of Voldemort’s sword pass just inches above his head. Turning around, he saw Voldemort standing behind him on the staff table, the same blade coming down on a line that would take it right in between his eyes. Harry brought his sword up, grasping the hilt in his left hand and the blade in his right to block the strike. The force of the blow knocked Harry on his back, and Voldemort continued with his attack, leaning over Harry, the sword less than a foot from his face.

“I cannot be killed,” Voldemort whispered, leaning down on Harry with all his weight. “No one, not even your mublood mother can save you now.”

Blood was starting to run from the palm of Harry’s hand where the edge of his blade was digging into it. The pain was starting to become too much, but he knew that if he let up at all, Voldemort would cut his face open in three places.

“Sad, isn’t it?” Voldemort asked, as he started to win the proverbial tug-of-war and began pushing his sword closer to Harry’s face. “You’ve gone through hell and back to save the world, your friends, your mudblood lover, and you’re going to die for it, right here on top of this very table.”

“Not if I can help it,” Harry said, and doing the only thing he could think of, snapped his right leg up and planted the tip of his sneaker in Voldemort’s groin.

“Nice shot, mate!” Ron yelled from beside Hermione and Luna. Voldemort doubled over coughing, and Harry took the opportunity to get up and knock the sword from his foe’s hand with a solid stroke.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Harry said, nearly laughing. “I never thought you’d have any balls for me to kick in the first place.” Voldemort said nothing, he only continued to cough, specks of blood running down his chin. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“What’s funny?” Voldemort coughed out.

“You, the person who brought you back, and the bird that made the potion that brought you back all suffered the same fate.”

“And what’s that?” Voldemort sneered.

“Death,” Harry said, with a smirk. “By beheading.”

He swiftly raised his sword and brought it down in a graceful arc, cleanly severing the Dark Lord’s head from his shoulders.

This time, Harry kept his eyes trained on Voldemort’s body (both parts of it), until he was satisfied that no regeneration was going to save his foe.

“Now,” he said, addressing the stunned hall. “As I was saying. Who’s next?”

The death eaters scattered, all running for the exit at the front of the hall. They hadn’t even touched the oak of the doors when they flew open with a tremendous crash, and Dumbledore, Snape, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks burst through, wands drawn, pointed at the figures in black cloaks and white masks.

“I believe you are trapped,” Dumbledore said with a smile, as though he were discussing quidditch over a cup of tea. One by one, the death eaters lay down their wands, and Dumbledore bound them each with ropes as they did.

Harry was now thoroughly exhausted, and realised that his hand, between the shock of the explosion from Hermione’s wand, and the slice his own sword opened on it while he was holding Voldemort off, now needed medical attention badly. He barely had time to think about it when Hermione was in his arms, her face buried in his chest.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered against his chest. “I...that was...it just –”

“Shh...” Harry said consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I just need to get my hand taken care of.”

Hermione looked down at Harry’s hand and gasped. His hand was still bleeding profusely, a gaping three-inch cut open across his lifeline. The area around the cut was purple and blue, showing that the wound was deep, probably having sliced the muscles and tendons of his hand.

“Come on,” she said wrapping an arm around his waist. “Let’s get you helped out.”

Harry didn’t argue, he was too tired to argue. He just let himself be led by Hermione over to Madam Pomfrey, and slipped into sleep on the way to the hospital wing.

=====

When he awoke sometime later, the first thing he looked for was Hermione, and thankfully he didn’t have to look for long. Barely noticing that he had no feeling in his right hand, he saw that she was curled up beside him on the hospital bed, and though the thought passed through Harry’s mind, he restrained the urge to wake her up with a spray of cold water from his wand.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face and rubbing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You there?”

“Mmmm...” Hermione smiled into the sheets before her eyes snapped open and she grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into a heart-stopping kiss.

“I’m glad to see you too,” Harry said with a grin when they broke apart a moment later.

“Harry...” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Aside from the fact that I’m sore all over and my right hand is numb, I’m fine.”

“Harry...you don’t have a right hand.”

Harry pulled his arm out from under the sheets and looked at it with a mixture of disbelief and horror. Sure enough, he had no right hand. Instead, his arm ended in a bandaged stump right below where his wrist should have been.

“They couldn’t fix it?” Harry asked, his shoulders slumping.

“None of the healers could,” Hermione said. “Fawkes even tried crying in it, but it was damaged beyond repair.”

“No right hand...” Harry sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s a small price to pay for getting to be with you.” Hermione teared up nearly instantly at this, and started letting out small, quiet sobs a moment later.

“How can you say that?” she asked, looking into his eyes with tears in hers. “I couldn’t even help you while you were fighting that...that monster. I did nothing for you. How –”

But Harry quickly quieted her with a kiss, and he noted that he could faintly taste the salt of her tears on her lips. He pulled back a moment later and looked at Hermione, who had stopped sobbing, although her tears still flowed.

“I’m not talking about that,” he said. “And frankly, I’m glad you couldn’t help. I don’t even understand why the death eaters didn’t charge me after I killed Voldemort. They had us outnumbered five to one. You could have been seriously injured or worse if you had been up there with me.”

“But –”

“But nothing,” Harry said. “You helped me anyway when you yelled at me to watch out. You easily saved my life there. And what I meant was now that Voldemort’s gone, I can finally be with you. Losing my hand to kill him, while disappointing, was completely worth it.”

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, resting her head against his chest.

“I don’t wish to interrupt,” came Dumbledore’s voice from the left. “But may I?”

“Of course, Albus,” Harry said with a smile. Dumbledore walked over and took a seat next to Harry’s bed, pulling out a silver tin as he sat down.

“Sherbet Lemon?” he asked, holding the tin out to each of them. Smiling they each took one and popped them in their mouths, Albus doing the same. “Ah...quite excellent.”

“What brings you by?” Harry asked. Dumbledore peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles at him with a smile.

“I should think that would be obvious,” he said with a hint of a chuckle. “After all, the defeat of a Dark Lord is bound to cause a bit of attention.”

“True,” Harry said, wrapping his handless arm around Hermione. “So what news is there?”

“Mostly good,” Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. “Almost every death eater present at Hogwarts was captured, though Lucius Malfoy was determined to put up a fight and drew a hidden wand from inside his sock as he was being led away. He managed to injure Tonks with a fairly basic curse before Moody decided he was too dangerous and got...er...perhaps a little over-zealous.”

“Meaning?” Harry asked, his eyebrows raised.

“As you may or may not know, of all the spells that Mad-Eye Moody knows, he is most gifted in Repelling Charms. I believe he thinks them to be the most useful for an auror. Anyway, he used several of them on Lucius in quick succession which resulted in him being blasted through the castle walls and out into the lake. We quickly surmised thereafter that the giant squid, while kind enough to give Dennis Creevey back to Hagrid when he fell in the lake, does not take kindly to death eaters. I believe that it ate Lucius, though one never investigates things of that sort too closely.”

“What about Pettigrew?” Harry asked.

“Didn’t really put up much of a fight,” Dumbledore replied. “It seemed to me as if he realised at last that he had chosen the losing side, and had given up hope.”

“Hmm,” Harry said thoughtfully. “And Voldemort’s completely gone?”

“While you have been out these past few hours, I personally oversaw the complete and utter destruction of Tom Riddle’s remains, though I think he was thoroughly dead as it was when you separated his mind and soul.”

“Speaking of that,” Harry said, “How and where is Fawkes?”

“Fawkes is currently working with Professor Snape on a way to restore your hand,” Dumbledore said. “Do not forget, that it was his brother that originally came up with the recipe that restored Voldemort and gave him regenerative powers.”

“I might actually get to have my hand back?” Harry asked hopefully.

“I will not guarantee anything, but yes, it is a possibility,” Dumbledore replied.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said softly, as though afraid to interrupt the conversation. “But could you tell us how Traethis ended up living with Bellatrix Lestrange?”

“Certainly, Hermione,” Dumbledore said. “There may be some parts that Fawkes will have to tell you himself, Harry, but he has told me most of it.”

“I’d just like to hear how it came to be,” Harry said.

“From my understanding, both Fawkes and Traethis knew the contents of the prophecy that Fawkes keeps. Once you disappeared, they began to formulate a plan to bring you back, knowing that neither you nor Voldemort were gone for good. They decided that the best way to restore your memory was to have Tom Riddle regain his. Since the death eaters were meeting in secret, trying to remember everything, it fit perfectly. Traethis, being the extremely unnatural color that he was, managed to make Bella think that he was a wild phoenix, with no influences towards either the light or the dark. He stayed with her and helped the death eaters make the potion that brought Voldemort’s memory back.”

“If he was acting wild, how could the death eaters have let him get away with making a potion for a task he should’ve known nothing about?” Hermione asked.

“While they did not think it was necessary to learn phoenix, they knew that phoenixes understood English quite clearly. I believe they asked if he knew of a way to cure amnesia, and everything went along from there.”

“I’m sorry he had to die for the cause,” Harry said sadly.

“While it was unfortunate, you must remember after all that Traethis was over a thousand years old – so was Fawkes,” Dumbledore said. “I daresay he was ready to move on, especially since he was helping to fulfill the last prophecy.”

“He was well aware of the possibilities when we embarked on this quest,” a voice came from just beyond the doors of the hospital wing, which opened a moment later to reveal Snape holding a flask with steaming, black liquid in it. Fawkes was sitting on his shoulder.

“Potter,” Snape said walking over to Harry’s bed, though his tone was only slightly cold this time, instead of his trademark icy. “This may help your arm.”

Harry took the potion with his left hand and swirled the contents of the flask. He looked over to Fawkes hesitantly.

“Will it work?” he asked.

“Nothing in this life is certain, save death,” Fawkes said with a slight wink. “But it should work.”

Sighing, Harry looked over at Hermione and pressed his lips to hers for good luck, and downed the contents of the flask. His eyes unfocused for a moment while the potion was absorbed into his body, and then suddenly he felt a very strange sensation from his right arm. It felt like a flower was blooming from his right arm, and he vaguely registered the sound of his bandages ripping off. When all was said and done, he had a fully functional right hand again. Smiling, he quickly turned to Hermione and saw she was smiling back at him.

“It worked,” he said, grinning.

“It did indeed,” Snape said. “Do you require my presence here further, Albus?”

“No, Severus, I do not believe so,” Dumbledore said. Snape nodded and turned to go, but Harry called out after him, causing the potions master to turned around.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Thank you, Severus,” Harry said, albeit hesitantly. “For doing this even after remembering.”

For the first time in Harry’s life, he saw Snape’s cold exterior flicker away for a moment before it was back in place. He nodded and turned to go, although Harry would forever swear that the frown Snape always wore hadn’t quite reached his eyes that time.

“How come he only remembered when he saw the Dark Mark?” Harry asked, turning to Fawkes once Snape had left.

“It jarred his memory, so to speak,” Fawkes said.

“How come he didn’t remember everything when Voldemort returned?” he asked.

“I believe that had to do with his superb Occlumency skills,” Dumbledore said, looking at Fawkes, who nodded. “As it is, he remembered Voldemort, but nothing else. I have a feeling that because he had learned to keep closed the link that is forced upon death eaters when they take the mark, he didn’t remember everything as all the others did.”

“That makes sense,” Harry said. “But how come Hermione doesn’t remember my past now? I just took the same potion that Voldemort did, yet she doesn’t remember anything, do you?”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“It is because she doesn’t have the same mental connection to you that Voldemort had with you and his death eaters,” Fawkes replied.

“I thought everyone would remember everything once I killed Voldemort,” Harry said, his shoulders slumping.

“As I said earlier, nothing is certain,” Fawkes said.

“You will forgive me, but I have matters to attend to,” Dumbledore said, rising. “The Ministry and media are going to town on what’s happened, and so I may need to help Minerva quash any false rumors.”

“Okay,” Harry said, extending his newly regrown right hand. “Thank you, Albus.”

“No, Harry. Thank you.” The two shook hands and Albus gave Hermione a quick embrace before departing.

“It is time we had a talk, Harry,” Fawkes said when Dumbledore was gone.

“About the prophecy?” Harry asked.

“Yes...time no longer allows me to keep it from you.”

“How come?” Harry asked.

“The death of the one who made the prophecy in the first place,” Fawkes said. “My brother.”

“Phoenixes can make prophecies?” Harry asked.

“Naturally,” Fawkes said. “This was, of course, before the Ministry of Magic and the Hall of Prophecy, so I am the only one left alive who has heard the original version.”

“He related it to you, then?” Harry asked.

“No, he told it to Rowena Ravenclaw,” Fawkes replied. “And the reason she entrusted the prophecy to me was directly because of its contents.”

At Harry’s puzzled look, Fawkes continued on.

“You need to understand a bit of history about the Founder’s War before I tell this to you,” Fawkes said. “In actuality, the war began on the day that the three other founders refused Slytherin’s request to only grant entrance into the school only to purebloods. Thereafter, Slytherin created the Chamber of Secrets. Godric found out about Salazaar’s plan to exterminate all those with ‘dirty blood,’ and demanded that the Chamber be removed. When Slytherin didn’t comply, all hell broke lose. Literally.”

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“Hell broke lose,” Fawkes repeated, with a slight twinkle reminiscent of Dumbledore’s in his eyes. “Godric formally challenged Salazaar to a duel, and the challenge was accepted. During the fight, Slytherin opened a portal to the Æther and let demons not seen in millennia loose on his opponent. Godric was killed almost instantly. Salazaar, however, had overestimated his own prowess, and was not able to force the creatures back into the void. It was around this time that the Imperius Curse was discovered, as Salazaar, desperate to save his own life, used his very deep knowledge of magic and twisted a spell to control the mind of one of the creatures. In turn, that beast told its comrades of Salazaar’s ‘greatness’, and he unleashed them upon the world. That was how the war started.”

“So what does all of this have to do with the prophecy?” Harry asked.

Fawkes closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and started to sing a very soft song, though extremely high in pitch.

“The war that has lasted for thirty years shall not end for a millennium. Though the fighting may stop soon, the blood feud started by the founders will not end until one line is completely dead. Even as the fell monsters roam the world, one from the families will be born as the Son of the Light, and will bring peace and justice to this land. The one who is destined as the savior of the world will bear the mark of his enemy, as will his entire line. The Son of Light is the last hope for the world.”

“It means...it means me?” Harry responded for the second time after hearing a prophecy about himself.

“Strangely enough, just like the other prophecy, it might not have meant you at all,” Fawkes said. “It could have applied to either you or Voldemort. It meant you when you ended the blood feud started by Godric and Salazaar themselves.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said. “How did I end a blood feud?”

“You killed the last of the Slytherin line,” Fawkes said. “The Gryffindor line won.”

“But...I’m not related to Godric, am I?”

“You bear the mark of your enemy, don’t you?” Fawkes asked, and Harry touched his scar. “No, not that mark. You had the mark of Slytherin long before you had that scar.”

“I did?” Harry asked.

“You did,” Fawkes nodded. “You’ll notice, as many others already have, that your eyes are an astonishing shade of green.”

“But...I got my eyes from my mother,” Harry said. “Everyone says that, and my mother was a muggle-born.”

“Muggle-born is inaccurate,” Fawkes said. “Squib-born is more like it. Her entire family was comprised of squibs for over twenty generations. She was the first in the Gryffindor line in over six hundred years to have the gift of magic.”

“So...I’m the heir of Gryffindor?” Harry asked.

“Frankly put, yes. You are the rightful heir to the throne of Gryffindor.”

“There’s one other thing I don’t understand,” Harry said. “How did Gryffindor have a blood line if he died in his duel with Slytherin?”

“Who says he wasn’t already a father?” Fawkes asked. “He actually wasn’t, but his wife was pregnant at the time. She gave birth two months later.”

“Who was the mother?” Harry asked. Fawkes smiled at this.

“I doubt you will know her by name, but she was Brianna, one of the children of Gryffindor’s mentor.”

“Who was his mentor?” Harry asked.

“Merlin,” Fawkes replied with a smile.

“I...I’m stunned,” Harry said after a moment. “Explain something else to me. How could the prophecy have meant Voldemort? He’s not exactly a stereotypical ‘Son of Light’.”

“The sides of light and dark are merely just points of view,” Fawkes said. “From his and Salazaar Slytherin’s point of view, they were the side of light, and trying to cleanse the magical world of muggle-borns and half-bloods would have been bringing peace and justice. And just like you, Voldemort bears the mark of his enemy.”

“His eyes...” Harry breathed. “Vivid red.”

“Quite right,” Fawkes said. “So you see, when Rowena heard the prophecy, she knew that she couldn’t be its keeper. She was too involved in the war and was susceptible to capture. Therefore she made me the keeper, and had her memory wiped so as not to remember a word of it.”

“So why decide to bring me back?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t Voldemort have just died of old age before me if you had left it all alone?”

“We couldn’t chance that,” Fawkes said. “There were too many things that could’ve happened to you. You might have gotten into an auto accident, you might’ve been murdered by some mugger in a dark London alley, or in the long run, you might’ve done what Hermione tried to do.” Fawkes looked discreetly at her for a moment before turning his attention back to Harry. “There were too many risks associated with not bringing you and Tom Riddle back.”

“So that’s why you and Traethis came up with your plan,” Harry said, to which Fawkes nodded. “Tell me, why didn’t you think I was ready to hear this before now?”

“The last line,” Fawkes said. “The Son of Light is the last hope for the world. What would your reaction have been if I'd told you before the battle that you were destined to fight a blood feud - and that if you lost you'd be dooming the world to an eternity of justice under the rule of the Slytherin line?”

“Didn’t the other prophecy say that?” Harry asked. “Either must die at the hand of the other. If I failed, wouldn’t Voldemort be immortal?”

“One can be immortal and not rule the world, Harry,” Fawkes said. “He could have been contained...eventually. But the original prophecy states that your downfall would have guaranteed his ultimate rule over human existence here on earth.”

“Ah,” Harry said. They sat in silence for a little while until Hermione got impatient and spoke.

“Well, what do we do now?” she asked, seeing that the conversation had ended.

“You say hello to the two people you saved,” Ron said, entering the hospital ward, followed closely by Luna. “Hell of a show there, Harry.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, without looking up. “It didn’t look real nice from my end, though.”

“Yeah...your hand,” Ron said.

“I see they fixed it up, though,” Luna said with a smile. Harry grinned and flexed his regrown fingers.

“Yeah, Fawkes and Snape helped me out with that one,” he said. “Thanks, by the way.”

“I’m glad to be of help,” Fawkes said.

“Well –”

“There is one more thing,” Fawkes said, silencing Harry. He turned to the phoenix with a confused look on his face. “I wanted to wait to do this until Ron came along so he wouldn’t have to find you afterwards.”

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously.

“I told you earlier that I had to tell you the prophecy because circumstances would not allow me to keep it from you any longer,” he said. “That is because I am shortly going to leave this plane for the next.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “How?”

“I have been working hard since all of this happened to find a way to break the mass memory charm,” Fawkes said. “And I am sure it will work.”

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, seeing the shocked look on Harry’s face.

“He’s going to sacrifice himself to restore everyone’s memory,” Harry said. Hermione turned to the bird with wide eyes, while Ron and Luna looked on in fascination.

“It is okay, child,” he said softly, and to Hermione’s surprise, she understood him. He turned his head and spoke to both of them at once. “You two have done more than I could ever ask for. You saved this world from endless insanity at the hands of the dark, and you’ve lived up to the expectations that everyone has had for you. Even Ron and Luna. Ron helped Hermione out when no one else was there for her, and Luna the same for Ron. You all deserve something in return. Therefore, this is my gift to you.”

“Thank you...” Hermione said softly, a tear running down her cheek. Fawkes cocked his head to the side and extended a wing to brush the tear away.

“Do not be sad,” he said. “I am going to rejoin my brother where we may spend the rest of our eternities with those we truly miss dearly; Godric and Rowena. They were, after all, the ones who raised us from little fledglings.”

“It has been an honour,” Harry said extending a hand, which Fawkes shook as best he could.
“Goodbye.”

“Do not say goodbye,” Fawkes said. “For we shall all see each other again. There is another side, and we shall all meet again during the next great adventure. For now though, fare thee well, Harry Potter.”

Fawkes flew into the air and stopped about halfway between the floor and the ceiling of the hospital wing. Hovering, he let out a long, solid note and brought his wings up over his head so that every one of his wing feathers were pointing outwards, making a graceful arc. Slowly, the air around him started to glow gold, and several other phoenix voices began mixing with his own, creating a harmony more beautiful than any the four in the room had ever heard before. Finally, when Fawkes appeared to be entirely incased in a golden bubble, his body became one with the air in a brilliant flash of gold, white, and blue, and a tremor spread outward from the point where he had disappeared.

As the shockwave passed them, Harry looked at the spot where Fawkes had gone, and Hermione hugged him, a lone tear running down her cheek.

“Harry...”

Harry turned and saw Hermione looking at him with tears in her eyes, her mouth open in a silent gasp. Without warning she threw herself on top of Harry and promptly began bawling her eyes out, not able to control the sobs that wracked through her body.

“I remember,” she said shakily. “It’s you. Everything’s back....I...”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Harry said. Turning to Ron he saw the redhead’s eyes glistening, as though he also was trying to hold back tears.

“Come here,” Harry said. “Both of you.”

Luna and Ron promptly were with Harry and Hermione, all crying freely at the restoration of the friendship that had been broken nearly three years earlier.

=====

In the weeks that followed, Harry was swamped with people wanting the story of what happened and how he had coped. Finally growing tired of all the publicity, he gave Luna an entirely truthful interview of what had happened, and stated that it was the only interview he would be giving on the matter.

The restoration of everyone’s memory caused some minor setbacks for some, namely one Cornelius Fudge. Everyone still remembered the recent attacks by Voldemort that had left the Dark Mark floating over a squib village, and how Fudge waved them off as a simple set of murders. He was officially impeached by the Wizemgamot exactly one month following the final battle, and after much discussion and debate, Amelia Bones took his place. Dumbledore had, of course, been offered the position, but wished to remain in his peaceful retirement.

Harry and Hermione continued to teach at Hogwarts, though they were much more popular in the eyes of the students and parents now than when they first started teaching. Most of Harry’s students couldn’t focus on class and instead kept trying to ask him questions about his battles with Voldemort, and most namely the one they had all witnessed as captives.

It was the day before the Christmas break when Harry finally gave up trying to teach his fourth years what the long-lasting side effects of a stunner were, since they kept pestering him with questions.

“Professor?” Melinda asked. “What are you going to do over the Christmas Hols?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, wiping the board clean. “Well...there is something on my mind.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“I want to propose to Hermione,” he said, not facing the class. Many of the girls let out ‘oooohs’ of giddiness, while the reaction from the boys was mostly a chuckle or two.

“Professor Granger?” Melinda asked excitedly.

“Yeah, you know,” Harry said sarcastically but with a smile. “Your head of house?”

“Can we help?” she asked, looking around at some of her friends who nodded anxiously.

“Well I planned on doing it on Christmas Eve...”

“That’s so unoriginal,” Melinda criticised, sounding more like a empty-headed schoolgirl than the intelligent witch Harry knew she was. “You should do it next period.”

“Why? So you can all be there to see it?” Harry asked, knowing full well that the fourth years had Transfiguration next.

“It’d be so romantic, proposing at her job on the last period before the break,” she said. “Here’s what we should do...”

=====

Hermione walked into her classroom after her free period tired from the long day to find all of her fourth year students already waiting for her. Suspecting something was up, she eyed them warily but said nothing, walking to the front of the room.

“Okay,” she said, taking a breath. “We’re doing switching spells today, so if each of you could – Thomas, please do not spray chalk at my blackboard again. Five points from Ravenclaw.”

Thomas Sanlow had sent a cloud of white dust at the blackboard, which stuck there. Hermione went over and picked up the eraser and wiped it off, failing to notice the writing that had appeared when she did so.

“Now then, as I was saying –”

“Professor?” Melinda interrupted, her hand shooting into the air.

“Yes, dear, what is it?”

“What’s that on the board?”

“What is what?” Hermione asked, turning around, and freezing upon seeing ‘MARRY ME HERMIONE’ in big bright yellow letters on the board. She turned back and saw Harry walking towards her, pulling the invisibility cloak off.

“It was a rather good idea,” he said, looking at Melinda. “She didn’t even notice that we turned her eraser into a revealer. Ten points for each house, and five more for Ravenclaw to replace the ones they lost.”

There was a round of laughter as Harry came up to the front of the room and smiled at Hermione, who was still staring at him with wide eyes.

“Well?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he pouted playfully and sighed. “You’re going to make me do this the old-fashioned way, aren’t you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he dropped to his knee and pulled out a velvet box, opening it to reveal a silver ring with a single emerald placed in the middle of it.

“Hermione Granger...I had to live two and a half years of my life without you, and I never want to experience something like that again. Will you marry me?”

“I...I...”

“Yes would be nice,” Harry said with a grin.

“Of course I will you prat!” she exclaimed pulling him to his feet and into a breath-taking kiss amidst cheers and cat-calls from the students.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Harry asked cheekily as he slipped the ring on her finger.

“Prat,” Hermione said again, laughter ringing through the class.

Harry spent the rest of the class with her (as it was now his free period), and thanked each of the students personally for helping him. When they were alone, he scooped Hermione in his arms, causing her to shriek and giggle at the same time.

“You’re supposed to save this for the wedding night, you know,” she said wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Well technically we’re supposed to wait to consummate the relationship until after we’re married, but I daresay we’ve broken that rule many hundred times already.”

“And I’m thankful for each and every one,” Hermione said as she raised her head and kissed him.

“Hem hem,” a voice from the doorway said and they broke away so rapidly a pop was heard from the suction their lips had created.

“Minerva!” Hermione exclaimed, trying to make her hair appear less disheveled.

“You know I do not approve of teachers fraternizing in public, especially in front of the students.”

“Yes ma’am,” both Harry and Hermione said at once, neither knowing how the Headmistress knew about their snogging during the class.

“But seeing as how you two are celebrating your engagement, I suppose I can overlook that fact this one time,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Harry replied with a grin. “News does get around fast, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed it does, Harry,” she said. “Now then, I believe that the fall term is over. Don’t you two have something to celebrate?”

“I think we might have something,” Harry said pinching Hermione on the bum discreetly, causing her to jump slightly. Minerva either didn’t notice or paid no attention to it, because she smiled warmly at each of them before leaving.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted, smacking him on the arm. “That was NOT funny!”

“It was hysterical,” Harry said laughing. “The look on your face...oh I wish I had a pair of Omnioculars there so I could see that over and over again.”

“You know I’m going to have to punish you for that,” Hermione said.

“Yeah?” Harry asked. “And just how are you going to do that?”

“Why don’t we go to our ‘rooms’ and find out,” she said mischievously.

“Lead the way, milady.”

=====

Harry and Hermione were married eight months later in front of nearly all of England (at least it seemed like it). Ron and Luna were the Best Man and Matron of Honor, but aside from that Harry really didn’t pay much attention to the details of the wedding. All he cared about was Hermione being his wife, which she now was. Even though their lives took a turn towards the busy side, they still managed to find time to spend every Sunday with Ron and Luna, so they could reminisce about old days and catch up on present ones.

And every day on the anniversary of the defeat of Voldemort, the four of them would visit the little memorial that they had made by the lake at Hogwarts, and sitting gazing out over the water, they would remember Fawkes and the gift he had given them.


THE END

---------------

Well, here it is. It’s finally over, and I have to say I really like the way it turned out. I hope you all enjoyed it too. I want to thank each and every one of you who have reviewed the story for the entire way, it has truly been a wonderful experience.

And now, news on my next work. The first and foremost thing that needs to be understood is that I will not start posting any of it until I have it completely finished. Film school takes precedence, and I don’t want to keep myself on a set schedule to write fanfiction. I’ll write what I can, when I can.

That being said, it’s going to be a HP/Phantom of the Opera crossover with twists that aren’t in the musical. Think of it as a double A/U. I don’t know how successful it will be, but hey, it’ll help pass the time until book seven (I can’t believe we’re all about to start waiting for book seven to come out ::wink::).

And that my friends, is the end of our little adventure. Again, I hope you all enjoyed the story, and thought that it was every bit as good as the original. Until next time.

Your faithful author,
Greg S.
A.K.A. – TGF2K