Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that's the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: I'm baaack! OK, A few words of note.

First, all I can say is, "FINALLY!!!" This has been a long time in coming. I can now use personal pronouns, instead of having to try to find creative (and subtle ways) of not using them. Go reread the earlier chapters... you'll see!

Second, many people correctly caught the Blaidd Drwg (Blythe Droog) reference to the new Doctor Who series. Zoe Wanamaker (Madam Hooch) played the voice of Cassandra (the 'last' human) in episode 102, "The End of the World" and also again in 201, "New Earth." David Tennant (Barty Crouch, Jr.) is the new Doctor in the second season, which is currently showing in the UK. Roger Lloyd-Pack (Barty Crouch, Sr.) plays John Lumic, the villain of episodes 205 & 206. And most recently, Shirley Henderson (Moaning Myrtle) played Ursula in 210. It's fun to see all the HP guest stars in other shows.

The first part of the story has certain repeated elements. I did this on purpose to show what really happened, and then how it was perceived, then how it was remembered. The section with Ginny in her room has more feelings of repetition, but again it's intentional. She's working through everything, trying to figure it all out. Hopefully it all makes sense. Give her the benefit of the doubt. This is growing up, not a temper tantrum.

As always, similarities to Book 6 are entirely intentional... as are the differences.

Thank you to my beta, MapleMountain! That one comment alone was worth an entire box of black raspberries!

I PROMISE I'll get through my backlog of reviews this weekend!!

Chapter 28. More Unexpected Tidings: The Circle of Life.

Thirty-three years ago.

Thirteen year-old Molly Prewett was sitting with her friends, enjoying the Welcoming Feast that heralded the beginning of her third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

And then she saw him.

An older boy she vaguely remembered seeing in passing once or twice the year before walked into the Great Hall, surrounded by several of his friends. She didn't know much about him... she didn't even know his name. All she knew was that he was absolutely gorgeous!

Why had she never noticed him before? She'd seen him, sure, but never like this. Then again, she was thirteen-going-on-fourteen. Born on October 30, she was one of those students whose birthdays only just missed the cutoff date of September 1. Last year, in second year, while most of the students in her class had only had only recently turned twelve, she was two months away from being a teenager.

Originally, she'd hated it because she had to wait an "extra" year to go to Hogwarts. Now however, she liked it because she was one of the oldest in her class. Any girl who started displaying certain female attributes in second year was easily queen of her dormitory room.

Back in the present, the rest of her third year feast was pretty much of a blur. She'd managed to get a little food down, but that was only because the living god at the far end of the table had turned towards her direction. Of course she knew he was only reaching for the flagon of pumpkin juice, but she didn't want to take any chance of him catching her staring.

Oh, he was such a dream! Red hair, fiery like a sunset, much more vibrant than her own red-brown. And oh so gorgeous! Did she mention that already? Molly couldn't keep her mind off of him. What was his name? Did he have a girlfriend? What year was he in?

Please don't let him be in seventh year! Please don't let him be in seventh year! Molly prayed to herself. Mum would kill me if I fancied a seventh year. Molly was startled when one of her friends told her the feast was over and it was time to leave. Weren't they supposed to have start of term announcements? Then again, she really wasn't too surprised that she'd missed them, even without the Auburn Adonis sitting twenty feet away from her.

Headmaster Dippet could have told them there was a three-headed dog in the school and few would have noticed. Even the Slytherins didn't bother making fun of him; they were that bored.

"Who's he?" Molly whispered to her friend as the Gryffindors marched their way upstairs to their tower.

"Which one?" her friend, who was in fourth year, whispered back with a giggle.

Molly waited a few moments until they could see him as he climbed one of the opposing staircases.

"Him!" Molly whispered, pointing him out. "The red one."

"Oh! He's cute! He looks familiar for some reason. I think he's in fifth year. Who is that with him? Is that... it is! Okay, you see his friend, the blonde one? I do know who he is! And now I know why I remember your boyfriend. I don't know his name, but I do know his friends call him Wart sometimes."

"Wart?" Molly asked, aghast. "Do I want to know?"

"It must be a nickname or a joke, since he doesn't seem to mind it," Molly's friend explained.

"And just how do you know they call him Wart, anyway?" Molly asked.

Her friend grinned. "I had to follow the blonde one around for a while last year to find out if he had a girlfriend."

"And?" Molly asked suggestively.

The scowl on her friend's face answered that question just fine. "Seventh-year Hufflepuff," she answered with distaste. "The bitch!"

Molly and her friend then started laughing. Oh, it was so much fun to insult the girlfriends of the boys they fancied.

"What about mine?" Molly asked one flight of stairs later.

"I don't know," her friend replied. "I don't remember seeing him with any girls last year. Then again, I wasn't watching him."

That was good enough for Molly Prewett.

Over the next few weeks, Molly tried to find out as much as possible about her mystery man. It was a lot harder than she expected. He was two years ahead of her, so they didn't share any classes. Because of that and the age difference, they each had their own groups of friends, so they always sat at different parts of the table for meals.

When it came down to it, he literally did not know she existed. Their uniforms had the same color trim, but that was about it. They were fellow housemates, nothing more.

The more Molly thought about it, the more she felt that if he would simply notice her, he would like her as much as she liked him. Determined to get him to notice her, she used her Potions know-how to whip up a batch of (entirely forbidden) love potion. Although never invited to one of his "parties," all of the Prewetts were well known to then Potions Master Horace Slughorn. Evidently it took more than skill or intelligence to get an invite, however.

After much planning, Molly finally succeeded in slipping some of the illicit substance into the dreamy Arthur Weasley's morning pumpkin juice. Her diligence paid off in spades. They were officially boyfriend and girlfriend by the end of the day. The only reason they weren't together by the end of breakfast was that the enamored young man was terrified that the girl of his dreams, Molly Prewett, would reject him in front of his friends.

It was a very long day for young Arthur Weasley as he waited for an opportunity to talk to the enchantress privately, away from the prying eyes of his friends. After all, what chance was there that the living goddess whom he'd just noticed this morning could ever say yes to someone nicknamed Wart (the regal source of that name was irrelevant, of course, in his frenzied state)? Why hadn't he noticed her before?

Young Molly was easily the happiest girl at Hogwarts; everyone could see it. Sure, both parties' sets of friends thought the new romance a bit sudden, but it was simply chalked up to hormones... a good three-quarters of the school knew full well about that. Still too young to comprehend the darker side of brewed romance, Molly gave no thought to using up the rest of the magical elixir. It was oh so easy too; Arthur was more than willing to drink the butterbeer she handed him, even after he watched her pour something into it.

Molly was happy; Arthur was happy. The fact that everything about it was completely against school rules was beside the point. The ends justified the means.

All of that changed however when her meager supply of happiness-in-a-bottle ran out. She'd been so distracted by her perfect life that she'd neglected to pay attention to how much she had left. The phial, now empty, signaled to her that his feelings for her might quickly go the same way. The last dose would wear off before she could start and finish another batch.

She'd been so easily swept away. How could she have forgotten that at some point it would run out? How would she be able to keep his attention without resorting to the kinds of attentions some the sixth- and seventh-year girls were known to give? Faced with all of these questions and uncertainty, another even more terrifying thought occurred to her... one she honestly had never even considered.

How would Arthur react once the potion wore off? Only then did she realize how much trouble she could get into. Love potions were forbidden! She could get expelled! If Arthur's parents wanted to, they could even press charges! She'd never meant for all of this to happen! All she'd wanted was just to get him to notice her. That was her only intention when this all started.

Even if she hadn't carefully calculated how much longer that final dose would last, Molly could see the difference that first morning. As he walked into the Great Hall breakfast, Arthur walked right past Molly, as he innocently had done for the two years prior. Only when he finally saw her did everything fall into place in his mind.

And then the dragon poo (as Fred and George's fireworks might say) hit the ceiling.

In the seclusion of the Forbidden Forest (forests have ceilings), the two of them had the first of what would later be known as a Weasley argument. As the betrayed Arthur railed against everything she'd done and how he thought he knew her and couldn't understand how she could do something like that to him, he began to realize something.

He didn't fancy her (now that the potion was gone), but he actually did quite like her as a person... if he ignored what she'd done. When they weren't locked at the lips, so smitten was he that he drank in every word she ever spoke as a parched man might water. As he'd gotten to know her, he found out that they had a lot in common. She really was just about everything he could have hoped for in a girlfriend. Just about.

She didn't share his love of all things Muggle, but she did tolerate his "unusual hobby." All of the other girls he'd ever been interested in didn't want anything to do with the Muggle world. They didn't dislike Muggles... it was just that there was the Muggle world and there was the wizarding world, and they saw no reason to mix the two.

Now that he personally knew her as he did, she was no longer just another face wearing red and gold. Even though his amorous feelings had been artificially coerced, he'd still had them... and, he still had them.

After he'd had his chance to rant and rage at her, and justifiably so, he stopped to give her a chance to say something. Whatever she said he felt would determine what would happen next.

Molly, to her credit, made absolutely no effort to defend her actions. All she did say was that she'd never meant for things to turn out like this, for things to go this far. All she'd wanted, she told him through her tears, was to get him to notice her. Everything else had followed from that, not out of deceptive intent or some grand scheme, but rather from the lack of forethought... any forethought.

She simply hadn't given any thought to what happened next... to where things might lead... to the consequences of her actions. She told him all of this, not as an excuse or defense, just as an explanation.

Arthur did not know which was worse: the betrayal, violation even, he felt at being drugged, or the complete loss of her should they become estranged. Part of him never wanted to see her again, and part of him would be devastated if he never did (and yes, both of those parts were above the waist). He honestly could not make that decision. So he forced her to. What would happen next was up to her now.

She could confess what she'd done to Headmaster Dippet and swear a wizard's oath to him (Arthur) that she'd never again make a love potion. If she did, they could start over from scratch as "just friends" and then see where things went. He specifically told her that there were no guarantees that things would ever develop beyond that point, or that they would even remain friends as time progressed.

Or, she could walk away from it all and never speak of it, or to him, ever again.

Armando Dippet was not exactly the most forceful headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen (some might even call him feeble), nor was he respected by mischievous students like his successor was. That would probably explain why Molly only got a week's worth of detention for her actions after she confessed. It was two very long months where Arthur and Molly struggled to salvage whatever they could. But within a year, the two were known for getting caught snogging on the common room couch.

Molly burst into tears when Arthur surprised her one day by celebrating their one-year dating anniversary... on the same day she first gave him the love potion. He said he wanted to do that because he felt it was the ultimate expression of the idea that "which does not kill us only makes us stronger."

He added with a grin that he wasn't going to let her out of her love potion oath, however. That night, the two of them didn't get back into the school until four in the morning. Arthur "took one for the team," so to speak that night by heading off the caretaker as Molly was having a hard time waking the Fat Lady.

She found a way to make it up to him though.

Thirty years later (three years ago)...

On the morning of September 1, the day Ginny would be traveling back to Hogwarts for her second year, Molly, Ginny, and Hermione were sitting around a small table in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for the boys to drag themselves out of bed and come down for breakfast. Arthur was rather distracted by his Daily Prophet, reading all about the escape of the convicted murder, Sirius Black... the man who betrayed James and Lily Potter.

"Mummy!" Ginny exclaimed excitedly, "Can you tell us a story about when you were at school?"

"Oh, I doubt there's anything I could tell you that would interest you two girls," Molly said.

"Tell us about how you met Daddy!" Ginny prodded with a slightly dreamy look on her face. Her mind wandered to the dreamy Harry Potter, he who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and who was currently just one floor above her.

Molly, intrigued, looked to her daughter and her best friend. Both looked excited to hear the story.

"Well, it all started in my third year," Molly began to explain. "I was sitting in the Great Hall with my friends when all of the sudden the most gorgeous boy walked in," she said with a smile, then a wink. Ginny and Hermione giggled.

"Then what happened?" Ginny prodded.

"Well, not much. I didn't even know who he was, and he didn't know who I was. But other than that, it was love at first sight," Molly said with a slight giggle herself.

"And then?"

"Well, it took a while to find out everything I needed to know, namely what his name was and whether he had a girlfriend," Molly said, waggling her eyebrows. Ginny and Hermione giggled again.

"But since he was two years ahead of me, we didn't have any classes together, so it was practically impossible for me to get his attention, short of flashing my knickers, which I wasn't going to do."

"So what did you do?" Ginny asked breathlessly, clearly enthralled.

"I spiked his morning pumpkin juice with a love potion," Molly said, almost as if it was the punch line to a joke.

Ginny-twelve years old, a small little girl head over heels for the Boy Who Lived, about to enter her second year-just sighed and smiled as if it was the most romantic thing in the world. Even thirteen year-old Hermione, who'd never fancied a boy yet, giggled.

Ginny felt it all sounded so simple. Love in a bottle. Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed Hermione look up towards the staircase and wave. Ginny looked and her breathing caught in her throat. Harry had just come downstairs, surrounded by her brothers.

"I just wanted a little something to get his attention, so I... uh, snuck into the Restricted Section of the library and found a book that had love potions in it. Oh, dearies, when he took that first drink, he certainly took notice of me then. He..."

Ginny's attention drifted away from her mother as Harry and her brothers walked by. She felt that usual twinge of jealousy when Harry absently smiled hello to Hermione as he walked by but yet didn't seem to notice her, Ginny. Yes, she knew that Harry and Hermione (and Ron) were friends. But oh, how jealous she was. Without even trying, Harry noticed Hermione, but despite all of Ginny's efforts last year, including that singing Valentine, he never seemed to notice her. If anything, he seemed to avoid her.

Ginny watched as Harry's smile-of-a-hello faded as he and Ron resumed whatever they'd been discussing earlier.

"What were you saying?" Ron asked Harry as they sat down.

"Later," Harry muttered as Percy stormed in. Now that Harry was thoroughly enthralled by his breakfast with the arrival of Percy, Ginny turned back to her mother.

"...very long months. But in the end, it was just one of those things that, if you survive it, it only makes you stronger," Molly finished.

Ginny noticed the happy smile on her best friend's face. "I'm just glad it all worked out for you in the end," Hermione said, then looked at Ginny. Ginny, who'd missed much of the middle of the story, just returned Hermione's smile.

"Well, like I said, that which does not kill you only makes you stronger. The 'that which does not kill you' being the important predicate," Molly said with a giggle. Hermione giggled back. Since Ginny still didn't know what she missed, nor did she know what 'predicate' meant, she just joined in their laughter as well.

Everything had worked out between her mum and dad, after all.

Present day, 10 August.

Ginny lie on her bare bed in her empty room at Grimmauld Place. The occasional tear rolled down the sides of her face as she stared up at the ceiling. She already finished packing up her stuff, ready to move back home. Actually, everyone had finished packing up their stuff... except Ron. Everyone was waiting on him to finish up.

Ginny took these few moments alone to lock herself in her room as she took stock of where she was.

This was too hard. It was too hard, fancying Harry. In her mind, it was supposed to be the obvious, classic, storybook romance. She was the fairy princess, the first Weasley female born in what seemed like forever. Harry was hero who defeated the great monster. He was the Boy Who Lived. They were meant to be together, weren't they?

She thought so. It seemed rather obvious to her at least. She'd practically fallen in love with him before she even met him. They had everything in common: he liked Quidditch; she liked Quidditch. She knew that things would always be easy for him with her. Harry would never have to talk about his problems with her; that's what Hermione was for.

And of course, don't forget, everyone always talked about how much Harry looked like his father, James. Everyone knew that his mother was a redhead. Ginny was too! It was just so simple, so perfect: James and Lily, Harry and Ginny.

But it wasn't that simple, Ginny knew. Harry didn't fancy her. The whole universe as she saw it seemed designed to set the two of them up, and yet... it didn't happen.

And that hurt. It wasn't exactly the fact that he didn't fancy her. If it was possible for a person to feel good about being let down, then that was what Harry did after she'd asked him out at his birthday.

The problem was that she still had feelings for him. It was hard to fancy someone when you knew they didn't fancy you back. If it was just that, then she probably would have continued on like she had been: acting as though she'd moved on, but still secretly harboring her hopes and desires for things to change.

But it wasn't just that. When she and her brother overheard her mum and Bill arguing about his and Fleur's engagement, his scathing remark about the love potion shocked her to the core.

Ginny clearly remembered when her mum told her about the love potion she made to catch her father's attention. At the time, the world was much simpler to Ginny and a love potion sounded so simple... the perfect way to get a person to notice her. She also remembered commenting to herself how Harry never seemed to notice her.

And then just over a week ago, when they were shopping in the twins' store, something had happened that began to put everything into perspective. She'd seen the WonderWitch products. She'd wondered out loud to Hermione whether or not they worked.

On the one hand, she really wasn't surprised by Hermione's reaction. She just felt Hermione Granger wasn't the kind of girl bold enough to try a love potion. And yet on the other, she was surprised because Hermione had been rather giggly about it when her mum told them the story.

"But that was different back then," she remembered Hermione saying. "That was before I... before I ever actually fancied anyone." Before Ginny could ask if she meant Viktor, Hermione continued. "Let me ask you this. Pretend you fancy Harry."

Ginny smirked. That was easy to imagine.

"Now, imagine that you actually went and bought this love potion," Hermione said as she picked up the pink, heart-covered bottle, "and then slipped it into Harry's drink. How would you feel?"

Hermione paused to allow Ginny to think about it, but then resumed the instant Ginny started to open her mouth to reply. "How would you feel, knowing that it wasn't real? Knowing that the feelings he displayed for you were coming from this bottle, not from his heart?"

Ginny hadn't considered that. Thinking about it like that, she didn't really like the idea of that. She'd dreamed about Harry returning her feelings. But if they weren't real? Was that what she wanted?

Of course not, she thought. She wasn't going to buy the love potion to actually use on Harry. She was just looking at it, wondering if it worked.

When she heard the venom in Bill's voice as he threw their mother's use of a love potion back at her, she suddenly realized how bad it sounded. The idea of someone, especially herself, using a love potion to trick Harry into fancying someone positively turned her stomach.

It was then, lying on her bed, that Ginny realized it. Back in the twins' shop, she would have bought that love potion. If Hermione hadn't been there, complaining about it, she most certainly would have bought it.

Not to use it, of course... but just because it was there, on the shelf, in a pretty pink bottle. It just seemed like some fun little novelty. Love in a bottle. She honestly, truly did not have any plans to use it on Harry.

But, once she had it... Ginny wiped away another tear. Her mother's words echoed in her mind. "A little something to get his attention." All Ginny really ever wanted was to get Harry to notice her. She would never have given him a love potion to make him fall in love with her.

She hadn't had any plans for the love potion. But once it was in her hands... it was just one of those things. If separate ideas float around in a person's mind long enough, they might just suddenly come together at some point. "Something to get his attention." "Love potion." "He certainly took notice of me then."

It was that realization that was making her cry. Ginny Weasley would never buy a love potion to make Harry Potter fall in love with her. But if it hadn't been for Hermione, she probably would have bought it, just because it was there, begging to be bought.

And once she'd theoretically had it, she couldn't guarantee herself that she wouldn't have taken a page out of her mother's book. It wouldn't have been planned... it was just one of those things that just sometimes happened on its own. "Something to get his attention..." that was all.

Without even the slightest intent of using a love potion on Harry, Ginny could envision a series of events that could have unfolded in such a way as that the end result would have been Harry under the influence of a love potion, by her hand. The thought of what could have been mortified her, sickened almost even.

This was too hard. It was too hard, fancying Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived... now the Chosen One. And yet she did. Why? Why did she fancy him? Why was this so hard? And it wasn't that Harry didn't fancy her back. She'd already been through that. So what was it?

For the next ten minutes, Ginny searched her memories and heart as she listened to the sounds of her brother swearing at his stuff in the vain hope that it would hasten his packing. Part of her vaguely noted that Ron had been in a particularly surly mood after receiving his most recent "just a letter" from her other best friend, Luna.

Finally, Ginny noticed a common thread linking everything together... something that went all the way back to before she even met him. And that was the key: it went back to before she met him.

Was it possible, Ginny wondered, that she didn't fancy Harry, but rather she fancied the Boy Who Lived? And therein lay the problem: Harry was the Boy Who Lived. Harry was the Chosen One. They were one in the same person. She couldn't separate them.

Deep down, she knew that she fancied him before she ever met him. So how could she fancy Harry when all she saw was the Chosen One... the one who would defeat You Know Who, once and for all? The last five years had proved that she couldn't fancy a title, or rather that a title couldn't fancy her back. But that's all he was to her. He was the Boy Who Lived.

And yet at the same time, she also knew that there were some things about Harry that she was certain would make good boyfriend material. He was loyal, trustworthy, smart. Okay, maybe not Hermione-smart, but compared to goons like Crabbe and Goyle, he was a bloody genius. He was brave... he came and rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets.

So, Ginny decided that what she needed (in a perfect world) was to find another Harry... someone who was everything that Harry was, just someone who wasn't Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Oh, and it really helped if he, whoever he was, fancied her too. Five years of fancying someone who didn't return her feelings made that abundantly clear.

Ginny was not such the fairy princess to think that the universe revolved about her. But it would be nice, she felt, to be the center of someone's universe. Was that too much to ask? That someone out there... just one person... might think her more important than anything else?

At that very moment on the other side of London in Diagon Alley, Neville Longbottom was finishing up his own school shopping. Armed with the suggestion Harry had owled him, he was about ready to head to the Magical Menagerie to make his final purchase of the day.

On his way there, he decided to stop into Weasley Wizard Wheezes to check out Fred and George's new shop first. It was his first time there, and he wasn't too keen on carrying a live animal around a joke shop... at least one owned and operated by the Weasley twins. Thoroughly impressed by everything he'd seen, Neville was about to walk out the door when a familiar sound caught his attention.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.

"Pygmy Puffs," said George. "Miniature puffskeins. We only started selling them this week and already we can't breed them fast enough. And you know the saying, 'don't count your puffskeins before you feed them.'"

Neville stared at the little creatures in the cage. They were so cute, he'd even buy one for himself if he didn't already have Trevor... and if they weren't pink or purple.

He looked at the sign on the cage. To be entirely honest, the price was about one Galleon higher than he felt it ought to be. Then again he knew that demand versus supply had an effect on prices. In any regard, it was well worth the price if it really was what Ginny wanted. Harry said he'd been shopping with the Weasleys when she mentioned she wanted one.

"Can I buy a purple one?" Neville asked George.

"Only if you have money," George replied back with a grin. After putting one of the little fluff-balls into a traveling box, he took Neville's money, then handed the cage over.

"Wise decision, mate," George said. "The purple's not too bad, but the pink is really too girly."

"Oh, it isn't for me. It's a present," Neville replied.

"Who for?" George asked conversationally, curious.

Neville turned bright red and said nothing.

"For a girl, huh?" George teased. "Way to go, Nev! As a desperately single guy, I only have two words for you: GOOD LUCK!"

"Thanks!" Neville said, then headed out, down to the Leaky Cauldron to find his grandmother. He didn't know how the twins (or Ron) would react if they found out it was for Ginny, so he just took the good luck wish and left it at that. Besides, they'd all find out who it was for soon enough.

* * *

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione said, looking embarrassed. "I tried to stop them."

"Harry, when was the last time you've been to the dentist?"

Before he knew it, Harry found himself scheduled with an appointment in Dr. Granger's (didn't know which one yet) dental chair. He was impressed; even the Death Eaters didn't attack that quickly.

On the Friday morning before they went back to school, Harry and Hermione were to accompany the elder Grangers into their London surgery. Afterwards, they could take the Tube back to Wandsworth, then hop a bus back home. Stop 'A' was not even three hundred feet from the intersection of West Hill and Broomhill Road, after all.

"We have nothing but respect for you, Harry, but we just don't think magic and teeth should mix," Dan explained to him as he cast a weighted glance at Hermione. Harry remembered her saying something to that exact sentiment when she got her teeth fixed by Madam Pomfrey back in fourth year.

With everyone's dental safety assured, talk finally drifted back to what to do with the rest of the day. The weather was such that it certainly looked to be a stay-in sort of day. Ginny's birthday was tomorrow; Harry realized he still needed to get something to give to her at the combined birthday/returning home/"surprise announcement" party which was tomorrow. After all, why would they have Ginny's birthday party on Monday instead of Sunday, unless of course someone got the days mixed up originally.

Harry asked the Grangers if they would mind terribly a trip into Diagon Alley to go shopping. Since none of them really had anything else to do, they all agreed. After calling Tonks and Lupin to tell them of their plans, they all loaded into the car and set out for London.

On the drive in, Harry realized that this would also be a perfect chance to stop by the music shop to get everything there started. The trick would be to find some way to separate himself from Hermione so as to not draw her suspicion.

After a light lunch in the Leaky Cauldron (and Harry being enthusiastically greeted by patrons as the Chosen One), the four of them stood for a few moments just on the other side of the brick wall at the entrance to Diagon Alley, deciding where to go first. When he noticed Hermione was looking away from him up the street, Harry decided now was a good time to try to split them up for a little bit.

To his luck, Emma was looking in his general direction. He only hoped she remembered their earlier telephone conversation. Once he subtly got her attention, Harry nodded his head backwards slightly in sort of a "come here" manner. He then stared pointedly at Dan and Hermione and nodded forward slightly, hoping she'd understand he wanted her to send them away.

Fortunately, Emma Granger was just as smart as her daughter... not that he ever doubted it.

"Dan," Emma said suddenly. "Why don't we split up? You can go with Hermione while I stay with Harry. This way we should be able to get everything done in half the time. We can then get home that much sooner." Ordinarily all four of them would like to have spent more time in Diagon Alley. Since they all had to wear their jackets today however, none were too eager to argue against the idea of returning to a nice, warm house.

Making plans to meet back in front of the brick wall in half an hour, the two groups went their own ways. Harry slowly wandered over to the window of the shop nearest him as he watched Hermione drag Dan up the street towards the stationery store.

Harry turned back to Emma once they were out of sight.

"Alone at last," Emma joked in what sounded to Harry to be a sultry voice. "I thought they'd never leave."

Harry tried to play along by waggling his eyebrows suggestively, but unable to come up with an appropriate comeback, he just burst out laughing instead. He then asked her, "Do you remember our phone conversation?"

"When I offered our help in keeping a surprise present a surprise?" Emma confirmed.

Harry nodded then looked seriously at her. "I need your help," he said. The two of them then headed straight to Gringotts. After repaying Dan, buying Ron's food, and other incidental expenses, Harry was about out of pound notes.

Emma knew that Harry was financially secure thanks to his parents and Sirius, but nothing could prepare her for the sight of seeing just over 1.6 million Galleons neatly stacked up in the vault... not that she knew how many there were.

As Harry went to fill his money bag with enough Galleons to cover his purchase at the music shop as well as replenish his pocket money, Emma slowly looked around in awe. Each one of these gold coins represented about five pounds.

Hang on, Emma noted to herself, unable to resist her inquisitive side. Thought so, she said to herself after picking one up and feeling its weight in her hand. "Gold-plated base metal," she observed absently, mainly to herself.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed behind her, startling her. "They'd be worth far more than five pounds if they were solid gold." Emma nodded then put the Galleon back.

She only lasted until halfway up the cart ride back to the lobby. "I wonder how much they would weigh if they were all made of gold," she finally asked. Harry began to laugh.

"What?" she asked.

"Hermione wondered the exact same thing when she was down there."

"Well, you can't expect any less from a Granger," Emma said with a smile.

After converting the Galleons to pounds, the two of them returned to Muggle London and went next door to the music shop. Fortunately for Harry, the manager worked Saturdays.

* * *

Hermione was not fooled for an instant. She knew full well that Harry was trying to get away from her so he could get her present. What she didn't know was how involved her mother was in all of it. That could be trouble. Her only consolation was that it seemed Harry had already decided what to get, so she felt it unlikely that her mother might make any gift suggestions with an ulterior motive.

Hermione felt that she had everything well in hand when it came to how things were progressing with Harry. The last thing she needed, she felt, was for her parents to get involved and start mucking about.

Then again, if her mother was with him, then maybe she could find a way to get it out of her what Harry was doing.

Yeah, Hermione didn't think so either.

* * *

Five minutes later, Harry and Emma walked out of the music shop; they were, after all, only paying a deposit on the gift. She noted that he was grinning so broadly and looking so excited that she felt he might just float away if a strong breeze came along.

Emma had to admit to herself that she was very impressed with Harry's present. She listened patiently as he rattled on breathlessly about how he got the idea, pointing out what he saw in the store that got it all started. She had a strong feeling that if the two of them hadn't figured things out by then, that the moment Hermione saw what Harry had bought for her, they'd both figure it out pretty quickly then.

"Thank you again, for helping me with this. And thanks for agreeing to pick it up."

"For the fourth time, literally, Harry, you're welcome," Emma replied. As they waited for the bricks to rearrange themselves to grant them reentry to Diagon Alley, Harry became very pensive.

"Oh, wow, I forgot! I still need to get something for Ginny." Emma suppressed a smile. He used his Ginny-shopping-time to go buy Hermione's present. She felt sorry for the small redhead.

The poor girl never stood a chance, Emma thought to herself.

"Do you have any recommendations?" Harry asked her suddenly.

She was surprised. "You mean you don't know what to get her? You seemed to do quite nicely on Hermione's," Emma pointed out.

"Yeah, but Hermione's was easy," Harry replied absently. On the inside, Emma smirked. There was nothing easy about what he was buying her, hence the need for one hundred percent prepayment. "Besides, I don't want something that might give Ginny the wrong idea."

Again, Emma smirked on the inside. And what idea might Hermione get from your present?

"Well, what message do you want to give her?"

"Erm, Happy Birthday... to a friend... just a friend," Harry replied.

"Well, nothing quite says 'just a friend' like something that is heavy on utility and light on sentiment. Oh, and you can really kill the mood by giving something that you could just as easily give to Ron as well."

A smile began to appear on Harry's face. "Just be sure it's something that Ginny would like too. Giving her Ron's present says that you couldn't even be bothered to spend five seconds to pick something out for her. That sends an entirely different message... one that everyone will notice. And believe me, it won't be pretty."

Harry smiled again. "I know just the thing," he said as he grabbed Emma's arm and pulled her up the street.

With about two minutes to spare before they were due back in front of the wall, Harry and Emma walked out of a store with Ginny's new present: a broomstick servicing kit.

Emma kept trying to remember as they walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron. "Isn't that what Hermione bought you a few years ago?" she finally asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, grinning.

Emma chuckled. "If you're trying to not send her mixed signals, then I think you've found the perfect gift. Extremely useful... completely lacking in emotional sentiment and involved planning... and it could just as easily be given to Ron. And forget what I said before... NOTHING says 'I don't fancy you' more than the exact same gift as what another girl gave you. Trust me on that one."

Emma thought back to the chess set Hermione gave him. That wasn't just ANY chess set. She could have given him a regular set, or she could have bought a wizarding set. But no... Hermione went out and found an exquisitely beautiful regular set and then had it changed into a wizarding set. Emma quickly looked around as they walked back to the meeting point to see if Hermione was anywhere in sight. She knew she might get in trouble for this.

"But, just to safe, Harry. There's nothing special about this kit, is there?" Emma asked. "It's just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill servicing kit. You didn't special order it? You didn't magically enchant it to turn it into a self-servicing kit, did you?" She then added to herself, You know, exactly like what Hermione did for your present, and what you're doing for hers?

Harry looked at Emma out the corner of his eye. "Merlin, when you say it like that, you'd think I hated her or something. I just want a plain old birthday present... something that doesn't have any hidden meaning."

Emma had to backtrack a little. She knew she'd laid it on a bit thick. "And that's what you bought her, Harry. It only sounds bad because we're over-analyzing it. Trust me, if I were Ginny and I got this, my thoughts would be, 'Oh. A servicing kit. Isn't that what Hermione bought you? How unoriginal and uninspired. If he actually fancied me, you'd think he'd spend a little more time picking out a gift for ME.'"

Emma smiled, then added to herself one last time, Like what you're getting Hermione, and what she got you.

Harry began to laugh. "It is a bit unoriginal and uninspired, isn't it?"

"Well, but let's not forget however that it is still a very nice present," Emma reminded him. "I just don't thing it's something you get a girlfriend to say, 'I'm thinking about you, Ginny Weasley.' At least, not until after you've been married for a few years. My last birthday present from Dan was a new set of kitchen knives. Extremely useful, not at all sentimental, and exactly what I wanted.

"The trick, you see," she explained, "was that all of the sentiment was expressed when he took me out to dinner beforehand." Emma stopped her story there. The truth was that Dan further expressed his sentiment later that evening... several times.

Harry and Hermione showed each other what they bought Ginny on the drive back home. Hermione had found an elegant note-taking quill that featured a built-in spell-correcting charm... very handy for Ginny's O.W.L. year. She joked that it wouldn't help Ginny if she wrote that Europa was covered in mice, but at least she'd spell Europa correctly.

"You make one little mistake saying Saturn's moons have a rodent infestation and it follows you around for the rest of your life," Harry joked. Hermione looked scandalized.

"I was just kidding!" he promised. "Jupiter!"

"That's better!" Hermione admonished him, but with a small smile. "What did you get Ginny?"

Harry showed her the broomstick kit; Hermione looked less than impressed. "Well... it's very... useful," she finally said. If he buys me a musical bookmark... or a bottle of perfume, I'll kill him.

"I know!" Harry agreed excitedly. "It's brilliant!" Hermione looked to the front of the car when she heard her mother cough, covering up a single laugh.

Once they got home, since everyone still had no plans for today, and before anyone got too settled in for a lazy day, Harry decided he would ask Hermione if she would help him with the Imperius Curse. Based on Tonks' advice, he felt it would be best if Dan and Emma were present.

"I was wondering if you would help me with something. It's not exactly homework-related, but..." Well, he didn't exactly know how to describe what it was. 'Life or death' struggle seemed a little too dramatic.

"Oh?" Hermione said with interest. "Homework on a Saturday? Surely you jest."

Harry grinned his unspoken "Don't call me Shirley," then laughed awkwardly. "No. Actually, I was wondering..." This was it. It was a lot to ask of a friend... to have her perform an Unforgivable on him. "I was wondering if you would help me practice against the Imperius."

Hermione looked surprised. He could see it on her face, the confusion. Deep down, she knew what he was asking, but she just couldn't, or didn't want to, believe it.

"You want me to...?"

"I need you use the Imperius on me, so I can try to throw it off," Harry said clearly, so there was no mistaking his request.

Understanding appeared on her face, but she still looked uncertain. "But..." she started.

"I already talked to Lupin about it. It's all right if I'm a willing volunteer," Harry assured her. Hermione didn't seem entirely convinced. He stood up from the sofa where he'd been sitting.

"Please, this is important to me. I can't practice this by myself. Do you remember that reporter from the Prophet? It would kill me if I hurt someone because of that spell. It's been years since we did it in class. I NEED to know that I can fight it," Harry said urgently.

He watched as Hermione looked down at the floor as she seemed to weigh something in her mind. Would she help him with something like this? Finally, she looked back up at him.

"If you're SURE," she said emphatically, not looking enthusiastic. "But only on one condition," she added.

"Anything," Harry said without hesitation.

"I won't perform the Imperius on you until I'm sure that it won't hurt you... that I won't hurt you. I have to know exactly what's involved in this before I do it," she told him.

Deep down, some part of Harry knew what she was insisting, but his conscious mind wouldn't accept it. "What... what do you mean?" he asked.

Hermione also stood up from her spot on the loveseat. "You'll have to do it to me first," she said simply.

Dan and Emma, who didn't know what the Imperius was, immediately saw the look of concern and worry on Harry's face.

"What does he have to do first?" Dan asked insistently as he stood up the sofa where he'd been sitting next to Harry; Emma also rose from the loveseat. Hermione ignored her parents and locked her gaze on Harry. He knew she wasn't going to back down.

He wanted to argue with her, to tell her that there had to be another way. But he knew there wasn't. That's why he was asking her in the first place. And now that she was demanding on being "involved," he knew there was nothing he could say to talk her out of it. He hated that about her. But more importantly, he loved that about her.

"The Imperius is a mind control spell, essentially," Harry explained to Dan and Emma. "The caster can make the target do anything he or she wants. Anything. It's so hard to resist that Death Eaters were able to avoid Azkaban during Voldemort's first war by claiming they were doing his bidding under the spell.

"But it can fought," he then added confidently. "The problem is, I can't do it by myself. Someone has to use it on me. And I'd prefer that to be someone I trusted."

"Is it dangerous?" Emma worriedly asked Harry. She didn't know anything about the Imperius, but mind control sounded straight-forward enough (and she couldn't believe that thought just went through her mind). Her own concern came from Hermione's demands that Harry do it to her first, and his subsequent hesitation.

"If it's safe enough for Harry, then it's safe enough for me," Hermione answered before Harry could say anything. Emma turned to look back at Harry.

"Is it safe?" she asked. With two willing participants with no desire to harm each other, as well as Tonks' suggestions, it was reasonably safe. Safer than not being able to defend against the curse at least. Harry simply didn't want to have to subject Hermione to it.

"With a few simple precautions... yes," he finally answered. Harry STILL didn't want to perform the curse on Hermione. Dan and Emma then both looked back to Hermione.

"Let's get started then," Hermione said.

Harry briefly explained what would be involved, based on Tonks' suggestions. First and foremost, suggestion #1: make sure the participants don't need to use the loo when practicing this. According to the Technicolor-haired Auror, the extreme mental focus summoned when attempting to repel the attack had been known to cause a momentary loss of muscle control on very rare occasions.

Harry wasn't sure if Tonks was joking or not, but he didn't want to find out.

Her other suggestions for the logistics were pretty self-explanatory. Always have witnesses in case there was ever any question about a person's willingness to participate. Bystanders were also useful to catch a person should they fall, either from exhaustion or from a semi-successful attempt. Harry's kneecaps knew all about that.

Tonks' next suggestion surprised him, but it made more and more sense as he thought about it. All parties involved should agree upon, in advance, what they would command the other to do. The last thing anyone wanted was for some secret to be revealed by accident.

It wouldn't do to surprise someone under the curse by telling him to snog his best male friend, only to find out that secretly he really wanted to... because he didn't resist the curse. Resisting only worked when the person truly didn't want to do whatever was asked of them.

And finally, it was suggested to try several different commands so that a person could feel how they reacted to the curse. Everyone was different, after all. They were to perform at least four tests: willing commands with and without magic, and unwilling commands, with and without magic.

A willing command was one the target would want to do. It was like a control experiment, a way for the target to feel how the curse affected them without the element of having to fight against it. They also needed to do something with magic so they could feel how their magic was affected.

An unwilling command, obviously, was one that the target didn't want to do. This was the true test: whether a person could resist the command. Again, both with and without magic were tested. Commands that required the use of magic were easier to throw off, as simply the act of using magic required a certain amount of concentration (dependant on the witch or wizard, of course). That concentration used in casting the spell essentially subtracted from the amount of willpower needed to throw off the curse. In other words, it was harder to force someone to use magic than it was to make them do something that didn't require magic.

After a minute or so, Harry and Hermione had agreed upon what four things each would try to make the other do under the Imperius. It was with trepidation that the two of them returned downstairs, each with a cherished possession: Hermione's favorite stuffed animal (Harry's suggestion) and Harry's Firebolt (Hermione's suggestion). Dan had already returned from the garage with a small metal stepladder and set it off to the side.

Emma went to stand behind Hermione, ready to catch her if necessary; Dan was behind Harry. "Are you ready?" Harry asked after a deep breath. Hermione nodded.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, then drew his wand and pointed it at her. "Imperio!"

Harry could see all of the tension in her body wash away as that unique feeling of being under the Imperius spread throughout her body.

First things first, Harry thought to himself as he cast a glance at Emma, who nodded. He then looked back at Hermione who was smiling blankly.

Turn around and hug your mum, Harry ordered her in his mind. He really didn't know how "talking" to her in his mind was any different than to himself. Then again, maybe it wasn't... other than in intent. Intent was everything when using magic.

Hermione immediately turned around and gave her mum a great big, warm hug. Emma looked extremely unnerved by it, but eventually relaxed and returned the hug after Harry smiled at her and nodded. This is the control, Emma remembered. Making her do something she wants to, to get a feel for the curse itself.

Turn around... Harry told Hermione; she did. Next...

Turn your stuffed animal into a tea cosy, and then return it to normal, Harry ordered her next. Hermione immediately drew her wand and pointed it towards the floor where she'd set the toy. Harry watched as the reindeer, or whatever it was, transformed into the aforementioned covering.

Tea cosies frequently looked like woolen hats. It was not surprising then that the transfigured one before them looked exactly like the ones Hermione had knitted for the house-elves. Since it was another chance to witness magic in action, Dan and Emma watched eagerly. Hermione then canceled the transfiguration and returned it to normal.

Harry looked at Hermione again; she was still wearing the same, vacant smile. He knew what was next; they all did. Hermione said she would be embarrassed if she let them hear her sing.

Jump up on the loveseat and sing 'Sing a Song of Sixpence.'

The smile disappeared from Hermione's face. Everyone could see her tense up, ready to move; she'd been so relaxed for her first two tests. She started to turn towards the loveseat, but then stopped herself.

She seemed indecisive... Harry had to push her until she either turned back to him to show she'd successfully thrown it off, or until she demonstrated her singing voice.

Jump up and sing! Harry ordered more forcefully.

After another false start, Hermione finally climbed (not jumped) up onto the loveseat. After another moment of hesitation and another order from Harry, Hermione finally began to sing.

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye.

Four and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie.

Stop, Harry "told" Hermione. Climb back down.

He could see the disappointment on Emma's face. Harry held up his other hand to her to indicate this wasn't over yet. Well, Harry thought to himself, at least I can tell her that she is actually a decent singer.

There was one last command. Harry watched the happy, vacant smile return to Hermione's face while Dan set the stepladder down between them and then set the stuffed animal on top of it.

Before returning behind Harry, Dan looked questioningly into his eyes, silently asking if he was sure about this. Harry nodded; in actuality, he was only about three-quarters sure.

Draw your wand, he told her. She did, holding it at the ready; there was no command for her to fight against yet. Harry took one last deep breath and again focused his attention on Hermione. In his opinion, he was ninety-nine percent sure he would be able to stop her before she performed the magic, should she fail to throw off the curse.

Set your stuffed animal on fire, he finally ordered her. Hermione looked down at her most favorite stuffed animal. Immediately her face screwed up in concentration. Her arm began to shake as she slowly lowered her wand to point directly at the toy.

Burn it! Harry ordered, while simultaneously watching for the slightest sign that she would actually do it, so he could stop her. She began to tremble from the intense concentration. Her mouth moved slightly; Harry was ready, but did nothing yet. He knew she had four syllables with which to fight.

Hermione's wand was now directly pointed at the stuffed animal and it had stopped shaking. It seemed as though now that she had gone that far, she was no longer fighting against that aspect.

"In..." she started to say, but did not finish it. "Inc..." she stuttered. Her eyes moved from the stuffed animal to the wand in her hand. Harry saw this and realized what might happen. Tonks had told him about what often happened when people tried to resist performing magic.

She also told him what they did in Auror training to counter the instinct. At Tonks' suggestion, he hadn't told them about this part.

Harry knew he had to let this play out, one way or the other. BURN IT!

"Incen..." she again tried to say, but again stopped herself. Her hand began to shake as she stared at it. Harry knew it: she was trying to let go of the wand. If she couldn't resist the order, she was going to try to remove her ability to perform it by dropping the wand.

Still focusing his attention on Hermione, Harry now spoke to Emma.

"Get ready to catch her, Emma. I promise you this won't hurt her." Emma nodded; she didn't know what he was going to do, but she trusted him and did as he asked.

"BURN IT!" Harry ordered one last time, this time both in his mind and out loud.

Hermione let out a gasp then dropped her wand. "NO!" she shouted.

"Stupefy!" Harry said calmly, stunning her as gently as he possibly could. Again, intent and intensity mattered; he didn't want her out for half the day. Hermione collapsed unconscious into her mother's arms. Harry stumbled backwards as he broke the connection created by the extended-duration Imperius. Dan caught him easily.

"Harry?" he asked uncertainly.

"She's okay," Harry assured them.

"What about yourself?" Dan asked.

"I'm okay. I'm amazed at how much that took out of me. I can't explain it, but I had to fight her fighting me. I wasn't expecting how strong she'd be... not that I doubted her... I've just never done this before," Harry said. He and Dan slowly walked up to Hermione and looked down at her.

"It was a very light stunner," Harry explained. "She'll be awake in a minute or so."

"Accio wand," Harry summoned the dropped wand. Emma looked up at Harry after brushing Hermione's hair out of her face.

"You look pleased, Harry," she said in confusion.

"I am," he quickly replied. "She left herself open to an attack by dropping her wand, and believe me, it bothers me to have stunned her, but... she did it. She was able to fight me enough that she didn't set it on fire. I'm really proud of her. For her first attempt in just under two years, I think she did really well."

Harry waited anxiously as Hermione began to stir. She opened her eyes and looked up at Harry, blinking several times.

"You stunned me!" she said, more in surprise than accusation.

"You dropped your wand," Harry explained. "You left yourself defenseless. A Death Eater might have killed you instead. You have to resist the urge to drop your wand and focus on fighting the curse." Hermione looked down at the floor for a few moments, then nodded dutifully. After she climbed back to her feet, Harry walked up to her and held out her wand.

"But," he then said, "you were able to resist enough to actually drop your wand. According to Tonks, most Auror trainees can't even do that on their first try."

As she reached for her wand, Hermione noted that he held it out to her handle first. "You do realize that I could stun you before you even let go of it, when you hold it like that?"

Harry smiled. "I know."

"My turn," Hermione said with a wicked grin, and then the two of them took their places again.

Seeing her unasked question, Harry nodded that he was ready after repocketing his wand.

"Imperio!" he heard her say, then that familiar, wonderful floating sensation returned as every thought was gently wiped away. He wouldn't realize it until after it was over, but he no longer remembered what Hermione was going to tell him to do. Then again, he really didn't remember much of anything. It was too nice, too easy, not having to think. Why bother thinking about anything at all?

Shake my dad's hand, came the voice of Hermione as it echoed through his empty mind. It was her voice, but then again, it wasn't. There was something odd about her disembodied voice. It sounded distant somehow... cold... hollow.

But that wasn't important at the moment for the voice told him to do something. It was so much easier to not have to think for himself and to simply be told what to do. And it seemed like such a perfectly nice thing to do, to shake Dan's hand. He really liked Dan; so he did.

Harry turned around with a blank grin on his face and shook Dan's hand, then turned around again, back to Hermione.

Levitate your broom, Harry was told now. Oh, that would be so much fun to watch his broom fly around on its own. He drew his wand and happily pointed it at his Firebolt.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said, extremely pleased with himself for doing what the voice told him to.

Stop, he was now commanded. Yeah, the voice was right. He'd done that long enough. Harry was enjoying his empty-headed feeling so much, he paid no notice of Hermione patting her mother's shoulder in a reassuring way.

Tell my mum she's the worst cook in the world and that you hate her food, the Hermione-like voice ordered.

Harry was confused. Emma was a wonderful cook; he really liked her food. His only fear about her cooking was that someone might ask him to compare hers and Mrs. Weasley's.

Tell her you hate her cooking! the voice ordered more insistently.

But that's not true, came another voice in the back of his mind. He remembered that voice. Back when the imposter-Moody's voice told him to jump on the table, there was another voice that appeared and told him it was such a silly thing to do, and then asked why he should.

Tell her she's awful!

But she isn't. You really like her cooking, that other voice reminded him.

Now it was Harry's turn to gasp. He recognized that voice finally. The first time he'd heard it in fourth year, surprised by its presence, he simply thought it as "another voice," but he hadn't identified it. But now, hearing it again, he did.

Surprised by the recognition, without thinking about it or even knowing what he was doing, Harry pushed Hermione out of his mind. So forceful was her mental expulsion that she actually stumbled backwards as if she had been physically pushed. Drained from expelling her, Harry also fell backwards. Both teens were caught by their respective adults.

For some reason, Harry found himself out of breath. "It was you!" Harry gasped, looking at Hermione. "It was your voice!" he said in shock. Ever since that first time back in fifth year he recognized her voice telling him he was being reckless, Harry knew that his reasonable side, his conscience, spoke in Hermione's voice. He didn't know why; it was just something he'd come to accept.

But now he knew that her "voice" had been there with him for much longer than that. He'd just never recognized it until now.

"What was me?" Hermione asked in concern as she got back to her feet. Now Harry was stuck. He wasn't sure he wanted Hermione to know about that. Even without his feelings for her, it still might be a little weird for her. But he knew it was too late now. After ejecting her so unceremoniously, he knew she wouldn't let it go.

Okay, how could he downplay it as much as possible?

"Have you ever argued with yourself?" Harry asked her. "Ever had a debate with yourself where part of you said one thing and part of you said something else?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course," she said simply. "Everyone does."

Okay, Harry said to himself. That isn't making this any easier.

"Well..." he said slowly, not eager to reveal this. "Sometimes one of those voices in my mind... is... yours." Harry looked up at Hermione to see her with her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"The part of me that says to look before I leap, the part that asks me why I should jump up on the desk, the part that reminds me when I'm being reckless..." Harry trailed off with an embarrassed grin.

Hermione looked very thoughtful. "When we did this in fourth year, you said some voice in the back of your mind told you that it was stupid to jump up on the desk. That... was... me?" she asked slowly.

"Well, your voice, yes. But I didn't realize it at the time," Harry quickly clarified. Hermione continued to look at him thoughtfully.

"So, to employ a euphemism, are you saying I'm the voice of your conscience?" Hermione asked with a smile. Harry couldn't tell if she was pleased or just taking the mickey out of him.

"I know it's pretty weird," Harry said dismissively, trying to play it down.

"Personally," Hermione slowly said, "I think that's one of the highest compliments you could pay me... to know that even when I'm not there, I'm still keeping you in line," she said with a mischievous grin. It was obvious she was enjoying this very much.

"Actually, if it makes you feel better, do you want to know something?" she then asked.

This should be good, Harry decided; he nodded.

"First of all, let me tell you that you, Harry Potter, are the last person in the world who would be the voice of my conscience. All I ever seem to do is get in trouble when I'm around you."

This isn't making me feel good at all! Harry complained to himself. What's she on about? She was smiling, so he hoped this was actually going somewhere more pleasant.

"So, once the voice of my conscience, my voice, tells me that I have to go with you anyway to keep you out of trouble, and hence I get in trouble, sometimes there's another voice that pops in there from time to time. It's a voice that only appears once I am in trouble. It's the one that keeps me safe... that gets me out of trouble.

"Do you remember when we were in the Department of Mysteries? It was my voice that told me I had to go with you that night. When we were in the room with the Veil that first time, it was your voice that told me we needed to leave." Hermione looked off into the distance as though she was reliving that moment.

"It was quite odd, really, to hear your voice warning me we had to get out of there, to get away from the Veil, and then having to try to convince the real you of that," she said.

Harry shuddered. "There was something about archway that just drew me to it... even before I heard the voices in there." Harry looked down at his feet. "It was just a stone archway, but I felt like I needed to walk through it for some reason. How dangerous could it have been? If I'd been there alone, I probably would have."

Dan cleared his throat after a few awkward silent moments. "Well, I think that's enough for one day. We can come back and do this again tomorrow, after you've both had some rest."

"No. There's just one more test to go," Harry said, determined. He returned to his position, drew his wand, and pointed it at his Firebolt, giving a meaningful stare to Hermione; she nodded.

"One more, then that's it for today," Hermione said with a note of finality. Harry agreed. She then cast the Imperius once again.

Now that Harry recognized that "other" voice he heard, he actually now found it much easier to listen to it rather than the empty, hollow-sounding Hermione voice that was ordering him to destroy his broom with a Reducto. He was able to successfully throw off the curse on his first try.

Despite his success, it was not an easy matter to do however. He could feel the weight of her ordering voice, the strength of her command, the power of her mind trying to impose itself upon his.

He was able to draw strength from the "warm" voice that was telling him to not destroy his broom. It was a good thing he did for he needed every bit of it to consciously throw off the curse. Pushing her out of his mind completely the first time was a fluke; he didn't know what he did.

Afterwards, as both were quite exhausted mentally, they decided they would give their minds a break and watch some television. Later that evening, they had a light dinner. Harry and Hermione both wanted something light, as did Emma, "just in case" the following morning started just as this morning did. Considering neither of them was very hungry, Hermione didn't say anything when she caught Harry feeding Crookshanks a few bits of his leftovers. Afterwards, the two of them wrapped their presents for Ginny.

Harry also went and found a box that he could put Neville's plant into so he could wrap it in the morning right before they left. A quick check of the traps on the plant indicated it was still working on a few bugs, so he wouldn't need to feed it. That was good since the instructions told him that he needed to feed the plant bugs. For some reason, he thought he could just feed it bits of meat, but the instructions warned that could kill the plant.

He also hoped Neville would even be there. He'd asked Ron to see if they could invite Neville since he hadn't been able to make it to Harry's party. He hoped the invitation was delivered as he hadn't heard back from Ron since his last letter.

* * *

The following morning, Hermione woke up to the sound of the front door closing. A few moments later, she heard their car starting up in the driveway. By the time she'd gotten out of bed and made it over to her window, she was just in time to see her parents' car back out of the drive, then drive away down the street.

Hermione looked at the clock: almost eight o'clock. She groaned silently to herself. It was a good half hour before she normally got up on her own. Ordinarily, her parents made breakfast for the four of them on the weekends, while she and Harry made their own on the weekdays. But if they'd just left to go somewhere, then that most certainly meant that they'd have to make something themselves.

Tomorrow was Harry's turn, so she figured she might as well do it today. Besides, she was already awake. Hermione quickly got dressed, waited for the Sunday Prophet owl to deliver (fortunately Metis must have been out hunting), then headed downstairs.

Sitting on the kitchen table Hermione found a note and this morning's newspaper.

H,

There's an early-bird sale over in Camden Town E saw in the paper this morning that she wanted to go. So we are. It's about 8 now, should be back by 10. If you leave for Ginny's before we get back, leave us a note.

Love,

Dad

PS: Be sure to take a look at this morning's paper, Community section. Maybe it's time to revise your open-window policy.

Hermione opened up this morning's newspaper and started looking at the articles. She quickly found what she was looking for.

Fowl Play: Local Mystery Solved

If you thought you saw something in King George's Park but just chalked it up to your imagination, you may very well have.

Regular visitors to King George's Park in Wandsworth have reported unusual bird activity in the last two weeks.

"I take my dog for her walkies in the park everyday," said Eve Berg, a resident of the surrounding neighborhood. "In the past week or so, every once in a while, out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw a pair of white birds in the trees. But when I turned back to look again, they were gone. I assumed it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, or something shiny making a reflection, so I never mentioned it."

Eve was not alone.

"Brilliant," Hermione said sarcastically to herself as she looked up from the newspaper. Still standing, she'd leaned against the counter as she read. Before she could continue, she cringed as she heard the wonderful sound of Crookshanks' claws scratching at the glass of the back door. Someone must have let him out earlier this morning. Glancing from where she was standing, she saw his paw swiping at the glass, letting her know he wanted in.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," she said, not really looking up from the paper. After opening the door, he quickly ran past her and then up the stairs. About all she saw of him was his back end.

"Good morning to you too," she said, then went back to the paper.

The local bird-watching society has fielded numerous telephone calls about the unusual sightings. Some reports were of one mysterious white bird, however a majority were indeed of two of them.

Details are murky however as no one has been able to get a good look at them. All of the reports were similar in that they were gone whenever anyone tried to get a better look.

Hermione groaned. "I can just see the Prophet headline now: 'Wizarding world exposed by Hogwarts students' owls.' What are those two up to?"

* * *

An odd noise woke Harry up. He listened for it again. There it was. Scratching... at his door. What? Did Crookshanks need let out?

He groaned to himself. And speaking of odd noises, he really needed to have a little chat with Hedwig this morning. All night long, his sleep was broken by her shuffling around in her cage. He could hear the sounds of her moving around inside of it. If he didn't know better, he'd think there were half a dozen owls flying in and out all night long. More than once, he called Hedwig's name during the night, grumpy from being woken up.

But before his wizard-owl chat, Harry really needed to use the bathroom. He quickly got up, not bothering to put his robe on. If Crookshanks was scratching at his door, then everyone else must have still been asleep, so there's be no one around to see him with his male morning malady. He could safely put the cat out... but after he used the bathroom.

Harry opened his door and indeed did find the ginger cat waiting for him. There was an unpleasant surprise waiting for him as well. Crookshanks had a mouse in his mouth.

"Ughhh!" Harry groaned. "Crookshanks!"

"What?" came Hermione's voice from downstairs in the kitchen.

"Your cat has a mouse!" Harry complained. He looked down at the half-kneazle. The half-kneazle looked back up at him, his tail twitching in what appeared to be happiness. "And he appears quite proud of himself."

Harry could hear Hermione laugh downstairs. "That's what you get for feeding him at the table," she replied back. "He will sometimes bring us... presents if he's particularly happy with us for something."

"Ughhh!" Harry articulated again.

"Just get rid of it," Hermione called up.

"Put it down, Crookshanks," Harry asked; the cat did. Harry went over to his night stand to retrieve his wand. "You're next," Harry informed his owl, not bothering to look in her cage. He was about to vanish the dead mouse when he noticed something.

"It isn't dead!" Harry called back downstairs. "It's obviously badly injured, but it's still alive. I can't kill it!"

There was a momentary pause. "Well... just give it to Hedwig, then. The circle of life, and all that." That, he could do. It had already been caught, so if Crookshanks wasn't going to eat it (Harry certainly wasn't), then he supposed Hedwig could. He would just have to remind her that this wasn't a treat for keeping him awake half the night.

Harry levitated the mouse and directed it towards Hedwig's cage as quickly as he could. He still needed to use the bathroom. As he walked over there, he finally looked in her cage.

What the...? Harry said to himself. Why're you sitting on the bottom of your cage? Harry was now close enough to get a good look inside her cage. What're...

* * *

After telling Harry to give the mouse to Hedwig, Hermione returned to the newspaper after finding where she left off.

All of that changed this week however, when another local resident, intrigued by the reports, set out to spot the elusive, and alleged, spectacles.

"Oh, they were real, all right," confirmed Kara Thrace, resident of Croydon. "I'd heard talk of birds that just disappeared like magic, so I thought I'd come and see them for myself. Or not see them," she added with a smile.

Hermione let out a growl of annoyance. She recognized that name. It was that Muggle-born witch from the Auror Department they'd met earlier... well... Arthur met her. And to top it all off, she'd used the magic word: 'magic,' on purpose, most likely. One of the ways the Ministry kept tabs on strange goings-on in the Muggle world was to monitor the media.

When Muggles reported things that happened "just like magic," (or any other decidedly non-Muggle sounding way) they usually had. Someone from the Ministry, whether an MLE officer, an Auror, an Obliviator, or even someone from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office (in other words, Arthur himself) would then be dispatched to make sure the whole thing quietly went away.

So, now that the magic word had been used, the Ministry was certain to take notice.

Great, Hermione thought to herself, I've had her for two weeks, and already I've gotten in trouble. Post Owls weren't licensed. Maybe they wouldn't know it was hers if Metis didn't get caught. And (almost) no one knew that Hedwig was in Wandsworth. Hermione could only hope.

Miss Thrace visited the park several times in the hopes of catching sight of the elusive critters.

"Birds can be quite skittish sometimes, so considering so many people reported them disappearing, I picked a bench, sat down for a while, and did everything I could to not appear as I though I was looking.

Did her covert tactics work? "On my second morning, I saw them!" she told us. And what was the source of this avian enigma? Lost cockatiels? Escaped white parrots? Albino pigeons?

"Seagulls," Kara said. Yes, after all of the mysterious sightings, after all of the concern about lost winged companions, it turns out all of the fuss was over a couple of garden-variety gulls... the kind anyone with food about considers a pest.

"AHHH! HEDWIG!" came the shout from Harry's room. As Hermione flew up the stairs drawing her wand, a very startled, agitated Crookshanks streaked out of his room and ran down the hall to Hermione's room.

At least his door is open, Hermione vaguely remembered thinking before bursting into Harry's room. He was standing next to the dresser, staring at Hedwig's cage in shock.

Hermione did not see any of that, however. Her attention was elsewhere. She didn't mean to look; she didn't even try to look. It was simply not possible to NOT look. It was very obvious.

Harry, having woken up only moments ago, and still in need of using the bathroom, was quite literally pointing at Hedwig's cage, both with and without his arm. And the lightweight material of his pajama bottoms did nothing to hide that fact either.

Hearing her come in, Harry turned to look at Hermione. It took a moment for him to realize that she wasn't looking at the cage or at him... his face at least. It took a moment to realize in which direction she was looking; he looked there too.

"Oh, God!" Harry swore in panic as he remembered the state he was in. He'd forgotten all about it from the shock of what he saw in Hedwig's cage. At least Fate had been kind enough to him that he'd been so tired the night before from the Imperius practice that he'd been lazy and just dropped his shirt on the chair next to him. He quickly snatched it up, used it to hide his midsection, then ran out of the bedroom for the bathroom.

Hermione snapped out of the trance-like state she'd been in when Harry bolted. She was pretty certain she'd heard a mumbled "So sorry" as he ran past.

Hermione knew about "morning wood." And she really hated the fact there wasn't some technical term for it (the morning variant, at least). Living in the same room as Lavender and Parvati, it was hard not to hear them giggle about it. And she really needed to avoid that word right now.

Ginny too had complained about it on several occasions. Living with six older brothers, most of whom were not morning people and hence were usually not very cognizant of their surroundings as they blundered their bleary-eyed way to the bathroom in the morning, it was ha... impossible for her to not notice it on occasion.

And so because of her abundant secondhand knowledge of the phenomenon, Hermione knew how to handle her first firsthand encounter. Note to self, 'handle' is also now a forbidden word, she decided. And 'firsthand' and 'secondhand' too.

With Harry out of the room, Hermione shook her head to clear "those" thoughts from her mind. She really needed to find out what had him so alarmed. She moved closer to the cage, with her wand still drawn, just in case. At first, all she could see was a very agitated Hedwig watching her intently, feathers ruffled, occasionally snapping her beak and hissing in irritation, most likely from Harry's shout.

"What's the matter, girl?" Hermione asked soothingly as she got closer. "What's gotten Harry so upset?" Whether the owl was showing her the source of the problem, or merely moving because she was still upset, Hermione gasped when she saw it.

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered. "It's not possible."

And yet, there it was, plain as day.

It's not possible, Hermione reasoned with herself. How could it be possible?

Well, there is one obvious... but that's not possible. She's a... She is! Isn't she?

This was starting to make Hermione's head hurt. No wonder Harry screamed.

The only way that could be the case is if she is a... But she's not! I'm sure of it! Didn't the thing say so?

Hermione thought back to what she'd read. She reread it in her mind again.

No... it never did say there. But then how did WE know?

A sobering thought crossed Hermione's mind: DID they know?

She then replayed the sequence of events trying to figure out where it all started.

First I saw her... then I screamed... then Harry came in... then he left... then I realized I was topless. Hermione couldn't help but laugh to herself. Well, I guess we're even now for seeing things we weren't supposed to.

She then continued through her recollection, skipping some parts that weren't relevant. And THEN I asked him... and then HE replied back...

Oh my God, Hermione again gasped as she realized something. That could be it. How did he know? He didn't check. I didn't check. No one checked. And it didn't say anything in the letter. And once he said IT, we just took it and ran.

Hermione looked again at Hedwig. "Did we make a mistake, girl? A huge mistake?" she asked timidly. Harry was still hiding in the bathroom, so Hermione returned to her room and got down on her hands and knees as she started looking thought the three-ring binders she'd assembled over the years and were now tucked away on the bottom shelf of one of her bookcases.

First year, first term class notes. First year, second term class notes, she read as she examined each one, looking for that handout that she knew contained the spell that she thought she'd never in her life ever use, at least on herself. Ah, third year, first term class notes. She pulled the notebook out and started looking through all of her old class notes.

As she did, she heard the bathroom door open up. A moment later, she heard a drawer open and close, she heard some clothes hangers swing against the wall in the closet as he removed something, and then finally she heard the bathroom door close again.

Finally, she found it. Removing it from the notebook, she then went back into Harry's room, up to Hedwig's cage. At least the owl had seemed to calm down quite a bit. Hermione couldn't say the same thing about herself. She took another look at the handout to make sure she had the incantation correct. After performing it, a faint, pale glow appeared around Hedwig.

Well, THAT much was obvious, Hermione noted sardonically. The glow faded after a moment. There was little for her to do but wait now... wait for a certain someone to return so she could test her theory.

Hermione stared with morbid fascination at that which had cause the uproar. She was still having a hard time coming to grips with all of this. But, as the saying went, the deed had been done. She decided to sit down on the bed for a moment to think about everything.

A few minutes later, Harry returned from the bathroom, now fully dressed. It took every ounce of strength in her being to keep her eyes on his as he walked into the room. It was for that very reason that she knew that he was looking everywhere in the room, except at her.

He doesn't want to talk about it.

Considering his face was still red from embarrassment, Hermione was perfectly fine with that... as long as he didn't start making a big deal about it, in terms of feeling guilty or blaming himself. It was an accident.

Harry walked right past Hermione, not saying a word. As he passed by, she allowed her gaze to drop for a instant, but only for an instant. She noted with relief that he was wearing her least favorite pair of jeans of his... the ones that were of the heaviest material, and hence obscured the most amount of detail, front or back.

Harry stood in front of Hedwig's cage, appearing as if he was afraid to look in again. Hermione went and stood next to him.

"Is that...?" he tried to ask. "Is it?"

Hermione could tell from the tone of his voice that he wanted her to tell him that it was not. But it was.

"Yes, Harry. It's an egg."

"But how?" he asked weakly. Hermione turned to look at him. "I know HOW!" he defended. "But HOW?"

Fate again must have been listening for just then, Metis flew in through Harry's window, carrying a freshly caught mouse. The second owl looked for a moment from Hedwig to Hermione to Harry, then jumped up to Hedwig's cage.

"Now is as good a time as any," Hermione decided, then cast the charm again.

The same glow she witnessed before again surrounded Hedwig for a few moments. But another glow surrounded Metis as well. The glows were so faint that Hermione could hardly detect any color in Hedwig's the first time. But now, seeing the two glows side by side, she could discern the difference in hues.

The glow surrounding Hedwig was a very pale pink; the glow surround Metis was a very pale blue.

Quod erat demonstrandum, Hermione admitted to herself.

Harry looked from Hedwig to Metis and then to Hedwig again. "Do those glows mean what I think they do?" Harry asked with a strangled voice. The two of them looked at each other. Hermione nodded.

"I performed the charm on the egg. The pink glow indicates that Hedwig is the mother." A deep breath. "The blue glow indicates Metis is the father." Harry said nothing, but blinked a couple of times. "Harry, Metis is a male."

The beating of wings drew their attention back to Hedwig's cage. Metis, who'd obviously passed the mouse over to Hedwig when Harry and Hermione weren't looking, was now trying to get back out. Hedwig's cage was certainly not designed for two.

Once Metis was back out, he briefly looked at Harry and Hermione, then flew out the window.

Like I said, FINALLY I can use personal pronouns. It's so much easier to say "he" or "his" sometimes.

Congrats to Korval for being the only person to have have actually asked me about Metis/Hedwig, despite everything I did to try to trick you!

Okay, so I didn't get to that scene in Ginny's birthday party yet. I didn't have time to do that and still get this out before the holiday weekend. But at least you know whodunit. Emma just had mild food poisoning from her week-old leftovers. She even told you so!

There's still lots of stuff great for short, quick little chapters before we get to the "back to school" part. Yeah, I know I keep saying that I'll post shorter chapters faster. I swear... they all start out that way!