Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

J R LeDoux

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 26/07/2005
Last Updated: 25/02/2008
Status: in_progress

I began this story in Nov 2004, and spent six months developing a plot. This is my own personal version of book six. The plot was in no way influenced by the real HBP, and I hope you enjoy. :) This is book 6 how I think it should have been. Please understand, this is not simply a book 6 rewrite, this is my own complete, original version of sixth year, and so the original HBP and my version are completely incompatable.

Chapters

1. Daydreams

2. Spinners End

3. Through The Looking Glass

4. Return To Grimmauld

5. Turning The Corner

6. Letters

7. Small Revelations

8. Conversations

9. Felix Felicis

10. Visions

1. Daydreams

Chapter 1: Daydreams

The sun’s long rays filtered in through the windows as Harry pulled himself up again, a grimace on his face. Just two weeks had passed since he had stepped off the train, but in that time Harry had occupied himself by exercising on Dudley’s gym equipment, becoming quite fond of the chin-up which he was doing now.

The summer had been bland and ethereal for Harry, whose face slackened slightly whenever he thought about the burden he was carrying and the things that already happened because of it. Harry had always been different, but now he knew why.

Strange things had always happened when Harry got upset or afraid and he had no idea why until it was revealed to him one day that he was part of a world he hadn’t known existed.

Harry’s face was screwed up in concentration as he willed his stressed and sweaty body to lift one more time, pushing himself to do better than he had last time. Dropping off the bar, Harry’s arms fell to his side almost seeming exasperated. The room was cold and clean, but his body burned in exhaustion, the shirt he was wearing clinging to him.

Gulping down some water, he wiped his face with a towel and sat down in a chair, thinking about a variety of things, some bothersome, others not. One of the things which he had noted immediately upon his arrival was the marked difference in the Dursleys.

They had been keeping away from Harry even more than usual, though it seemed that it was out of fear, not out of spite. Uncle Vernon had tried to keep Harry out of the house as much as possible; his face swelling with rage and frustration when Harry explained that he couldn’t leave the house. Uncle Vernon’s expression went haywire whenever Harry was around, a mixture of fear and revulsion that none of the other Dursleys had.

Dudley and Petunia had been far more reserved in their opinions of Harry, avoiding him wherever possible. Harry had been amazed when Dudley put up no fight seeing Harry on his gym equipment and had a sneaky suspicion that he heard Dudley mutter something like “I don’t use it anyway” as he sulked away with a look of defeat on his normally hard face.

All of these mixed emotions whenever Harry was around were causing him a fair bit of anxiety. It seemed to him that the only people who really knew or cared about him were hundreds of miles away, even if he did read their letters frequently.

Harry had been sending and receiving letters from the Order, Ron and Hermione nearly everyday, though no one could say much in them beyond the mundane everyday sorts of things you might talk about over lemonade at the fence. He had been frustrated by it, but knew both why they couldn’t tell him much and why he had to stay at the Dursley’s at the beginning of every summer. He had felt nearly as frustrated as he had been last year, all bottled up in the house. At least last year he had been able to go for walks.

Harry reasoned that his solitude was somehow appropriate, for he was different from everyone else. Even among wizards he was a marked man, called to be either murderer or victim. He felt that his place at Number 4 was some sort of justice to the place in life he had. Besides, he thought darkly, a sinister and hollow defeat crossing his face, this prophecy just causes other people trouble and pain. The towel fell from his hands to the floor, and he drifted slowly to memories of his Godfather.

Harry shook the thoughts from his head and stood up, rushing into his room. The room seemed oddly dark to Harry, cluttered with all manner of things. His bed sheets were unkempt and made it look as if a dog had been using the bed all afternoon. His homework was strewn half-completed on his desk, the quill resting in his ink container, his books stacked precariously next to it.

The room seemed to swell with tension when he entered, the air stagnant and uncomfortable. It was both a sanctuary and a hell for him, a place where he could be alone, and that was just what comforted him… and bothered him.

Harry’s eyes fell on some of the letters that he had gotten so far this year, and he looked over them trying to take his mind off of things. He hadn’t received anything from Dumbledore yet, and it was beginning to get on his nerves. The absence of the letters drew Harry’s thoughts back to the conversation they had only a few weeks ago, a look of displeasure that could easily be described as Petunia-like donning his face.

The headmaster had told him everything, not that it mattered anymore. Dumbledore’s words were a worthless nuisance to Harry now, the prophecy an invisible wall, and when Harry had needed Dumbledore most, he had seemed weary and tired… weak. Dumbledore wasn’t allowed to be weak.

Harry felt a surge of anger and despair that was quite more than what he thought he felt, causing a voice to pipe up in the back of his head, a voice that sounded all too much like Hermione, reminding him that Dumbledore was human too. The voice chided Harry for putting such high expectations on one man, and Harry unwillingly recalled some of the unfair expectations placed on him.

The brooding was creating a storm of emotions and thoughts in Harry’s head, and he tenuously wished he had a Pensieve of his own so he could siphon off the thoughts to a place where he could deal with them outside of his detached body and mind.

Glancing at the letters again Harry noted that all of them delicately stepped around mentioning Sirius by name. “Are you feeling alright” or “keep your chin up” or “hope you’re feeling well” were the ways they all tried to tell him without telling him what they were worried about.

They didn’t know. None of them could. Harry looked over Ron’s sloppy scrawl and got a sudden feeling of disgust. Ron didn’t feel the pain Harry did and had never experienced this kind of loss, so why did he try to understand? He had parents that loved him, and siblings that at the very least tolerated him.

Harry dashed those thoughts quickly. Ron was his friend; that is why he was trying to understand. He was just trying the best he knew how to be Harry’s friend, and right now Harry realized, he could use them.

Harry could see how his friends would confront him when he next saw them, the scene playing out in his head. He would enter the room they were in confidently, determined to avoid any needless conversation, but they would press him anyways.

“You feeling alright?” Ron would ask in a bumbling sort of manner, like his words were scripted. Harry would nod, leaving Ron satisfied, but he could just see Hermione looking at him with a piercing and knowing stare which he couldn’t keep his rouse up under.

“Of course he’s not alright,” Hermione would say. “He’s had to live with those horrible relatives of his, and right after Sirius…” She would try and gauge his reaction before proceeding, but Harry wouldn’t give her anything to work from. A blank solitude would be his projection and his protection from uncomfortable conversations about a topic Harry wasn’t even ready to fully accept.

“Mum says dinner’s ready,” a voice said from the door, jerking Harry from his daydreaming, and when he turned to look he caught Dudley’s back end walking towards the stairs. Dudley had been acting very strange to Harry ever since he got back, glancing around whenever they were alone as if searching for a ghost. He was fidgety and seemed to be openly afraid of Harry in a way he had never been before, like Harry was an escaped convict who was holding him hostage.

Changing his sweaty shirt quickly, Harry got up to leave and walked down the stairs, pausing at the landing to collect himself.

Continuing into the kitchen where Uncle Vernon was watching the evening news on a small television set, Harry drew the attention of the Dursleys, their faces displaying some mild shock, as if he were supposed to be living somewhere else this time of year. The room went shockingly silent when he walked in, like it did every time he entered a room in this house, and Harry took his seat at the dinner table. Uncle Vernon scowled at Harry, turning back to the news.

Aunt Petunia quickly returned to her dinner, an unmistakable whisper of guilt in her eyes, and Harry was sure they had been talking about him before he entered. Dudley had nearly finished what Harry supposed was his first helping, and seemed intent on leaving the table before Harry got the chance to leave.

“What’s for dinner?” Harry asked in what he hoped was a respectfully indifferent tone as he sat down in front of his plate. The Dursleys had not openly despised him this summer beyond expressions of distaste here and there, and Harry was trying to do his part to be tolerable so that he might not be at the butt of all the arguments in the house.

“Meatloaf,” Uncle Vernon answered curtly, giving Harry a quick and narrow glance before turning back to his television set. Aunt Petunia snatched the butter and they ate in silence which was broken only by the newscaster relating the scores of that day’s football games.

Harry ate slowly, poking at his food a bit, a look of intense disinterest on his face. He wasn’t particularly hungry because he had been constantly supplied with various food stuffs by Mrs. Weasley, but he knew that he had to wash the dishes and could not be the first person to leave the table.

“What’s the matter boy, food not good enough for you?” Uncle Vernon glared at Harry and his nearly untouched plate.

“No, I just already had something to eat.” Uncle Vernon gave Harry a look that clearly said he did not believe him, but didn’t press the issue any further. Harry was just beginning to wonder if he would sit there all night waiting to wash the dishes when a small tapping noise came from the kitchen window.

The entire room stared for a moment as an owl with a letter attached to its leg pecked at the glass, asking to come in. The Dursley’s were frozen but Harry got up almost automatically and let the bird inside, at which point Uncle Vernon erupted.

“What the blazes is that thing doing delivering here?! Keep your infernal owls to yourself! I don’t want those things flying about where anyone could see them!” Harry nodded in agreement absentmindedly as he stared at the seal on the letter which he had removed from the owl. The letter was from the Ministry of Magic.

Harry sat back down at the table and began to open the letter as the Dursley’s stared at him in a queer sort of hypnosis. Pulling the letter out he noted that it was on letter paper and not on legal paper as his previous warning letters from the Ministry had been.

“Well? What’s it say? I’d like to know why we’ve been sent a letter right in the middle of dinner!” Uncle Vernon glared with a glint in his eye that very clearly showed he thought that nothing in the letter could possibly warrant a disturbance of meal time.

Harry unfolded the letter and started reading:

To Mr. Harry James Potter,

Your presence is requested for the reading of the will of your late godfather Sirius Black. You have been named a benefactor of the will, which will be read and executed by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore under the supervision of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

The date has been set for August the Tenth at eleven in the morning. Our sincerest condolences on your loss, and we wish you an otherwise enjoyable summer holiday.

Yours truly,
Amelia Bones
Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic

Harry’s mouth had gone sour by the end, his stomach in no mood to even entertain food any longer. They had something wrong, they must. It was a fleeting thought, for Harry was quite sure at this point that Sirius was gone, however the letter brought to the forefront something Harry had been hoping to avoid.

Uncle Vernon, who had been demanding an explanation this entire time, grabbed the paper from Harry and began reading it. Normally Harry would have objected but he was in too much shock to respond accordingly.

“I… don’t… what do you think Petunia?” He gave Harry a fearful sort of glance as he handed the letter to her. Harry was deep in thought about Sirius. This had been the first time since his talk with Luna at the end of last term that he had been confronted with the death of his godfather so blatantly. Talking to Luna had been an odd sort of relief to Harry, almost comforting in a way.

Sirius had always been able to comfort Harry and give him advice when need be, and Harry vaguely wondered what it must have been like when Sirius and his parents would talk to each other before Harry got his scar.

Harry could just see his parents talking in their dining room with Sirius, the house they lived in cozy and comfortably cluttered. He could see them sitting down to a meal talking with each other about the happenings of that day.

“What was it you needed?” Sirius would say, picking up his fork and stabbing a bite of casserole. The table would be set for three, little Harry sitting in a baby chair next to Lily begging for more food to squish between his fingers.

“We want you to take care of Winston for us,” Harry’s mother would say, indicating to the brightly colored cat that was circling their feet. Sirius’ eyes shift from side to side.

“Going on holiday?” he would ask them in a pointed manner.

“Something like that,” Harry’s father would say in a flat sort of way. “We just want you to look after him for us. If anything were to happen to our cat…” James would look downtrodden at the thought.

“You can count on me,” Sirius would reassure them with a smile, and the cat would rub up against Sirius’ leg in what appeared to be appreciation.

“Are you there boy?” Uncle Vernon cut Harry out of his daydreaming abruptly, and Harry noticed that both Petunia and Dudley were looking at him almost expectantly.

“Sorry… I was just thinking about something…” Harry stood slowly and grabbed his letter off the table where Petunia had put it down. “I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Harry didn’t even give them a chance to respond as he set his plate on the counter and rushed up the stairs into his room where he found Hedwig waiting at his closed window.

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

A/N: This story will also be posted on my website, www.witherwings.net, probably a few chapters ahead, but I dunno. Tell me what you think so far. (It's gonna be a pretty slow story, like the real books.)

2. Spinners End

Chapter 2: Spinners End

Harry closed his bedroom door and rushed over to the window to let Hedwig in. The owl gave him a satisfied look as it stretched out its leg for Harry to remove the note. He untied it wondering who the letter could be from, but as he opened it and saw the tidy handwriting he knew immediately who had written it.

Harry,

It’s been a while now, how are you? I just arrived at You-Know-Where after staying with my parents for a while, and it looks like you might be here for your birthday.

Harry stopped and looked out the window, as if he was expecting a car to be parked outside of it. For most people this would seem an absurd thing, but having already experienced it himself, Harry never knew quite what to expect. He turned back to the letter.

Don’t want to spoil anything, but it seems that Ron’s mum can’t stand the thought of you having to celebrate alone on your sixteenth birthday. I am looking forward to seeing you again, and I hope that you aren’t suffering too much over there. Study hard in your spare time!

Love From
Hermione

Harry folded up the letter and placed it on his desk grinning from ear to ear. He wouldn’t have to endure the Dursley’s for much longer, and that was something to look forward to. The letter didn’t say when they would come for him, but his birthday was just a little over two weeks away, so it couldn’t be too much longer.

He looked around the room and noticed that his things were everywhere. If he was going to be ready when they came for him, then he would have to keep his unused things in his trunk. He started to pick up his room a bit, not bothering to really clean it, when a knock came from his door.

“Come in,” he called as he picked up the Sneak-o-Scope that Ron had given him. Aunt Petunia opened the door slowly and came in with a confused look on her face like she didn’t know how she got into Harry’s room. Harry looked at her in mild surprise. “Er – yes?”

“I just… how much longer are you going to be here?” Aunt Petunia asked with a tone that was half-way between intrigue and disgust.

“I’m not sure,” Harry replied. “They said that they would pick me up before my birthday.” He looked at her for a moment before adding, “The thirty-first,” just in case she had forgotten.

“I know when your birthday is,” she snapped. She looked around the room, lingering on some of the obviously magical items thrown about it, and it occurred to Harry that she had never in his memory actually entered his room.

“Er… anything else?” Harry was beginning to get slightly nervous from her presence. He had been quite content with the Dursley’s just ignoring him, but it seemed that they were intent upon making sure that they knew enough about what was going on to not be surprised. He was sure that they were torn immensely being forced to ask about such things.

She silently shook her head and left, causing Harry a lot of confusion. Aunt Petunia normally, more so than Uncle Vernon, seemed to think that Harry would go away if ignored, which wasn’t without merit. He often did distance himself from the Dursley’s unless they were talking to him for some reason.

Harry looked around his room and continued to pick up his school belongings off his floor, placing them in his trunk. He was setting his History of Magic essay into his trunk when he noticed a shiny object at the bottom he didn’t recognize. Reaching into the trunk to pull it out, he knew precisely what it was the moment his hands clasped it.

He felt his heart lurch as the broken mirror which Sirius had given him came into full view. The cracks seemed fitting to Harry, who wistfully looked at all the images of himself in the pieces. Push it down. Put the mirror back and push the feelings down...

Harry jerkily tossed the mirror to the bottom of his trunk and covered it with the work that he had been doing in his room. The paper and books covered up the symbol of his loss, and he readied his quill to finish his Transfiguration essay.

Within a week Harry had managed to finish all of his homework, and he noticed a definite improvement in both his ability and stamina on the gym set. Harry supposed that this was due to the fact that the only two activities he really did were completing his homework and exercising. He was beginning to get anxious having finished the homework, and had taken to writing longer and longer letters to his correspondents, sometimes leaving him to wonder if he was burdening the poor owls.

It was only four days until his birthday before Harry received any other notice that he wasn’t going to stay at Privet Drive all summer long. He had been reading his Charms homework again to see if there was anywhere he could work on it some more, when a frantic tapping abruptly started at his window.

Harry looked up and was heartened to see Pig trying to get in, rather like a hummingbird. He opened the window and waited for the ecstatic bird to calm down before removing the letter. He hadn’t received anything from Ron in a few days, and Harry was eager to learn about what Ron had been up to lately. From what he had deciphered from Hermione’s letters, Ron was with his family at the burrow and she was with her parents on holiday.

Having coaxed the bird into holding still, Harry removed the letter and began to read it, his ravenous eyes looking for a glimmer of hope among the words.

Sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you... I’ve been busy helping Mum around the house. She’s been entirely unbearable this summer, but at least that’s coming to an end, right?

Thought I’d give you some good news, but I can’t say anything too specific. Be looking for a letter with some instructions VERY soon. We’re not going to leave you there all holiday. Hope you’re doing alright.

See you soon –
Ron

Harry reread the note, trying to figure out when the letter was going to get there and how. Would it come by owl? If they were going to send it by a normal owl, then why couldn’t Ron just put it in his letter? He looked around, trying to find something to occupy himself, ardent at the thought of leaving Privet Drive, and no longer satisfied by busying himself with finished homework.

He swiftly packed away all his things and locked up Hedwig’s cage, hopeful that they would come for him tonight. He went down to the kitchen for lunch and was wondering how to tell his Aunt and Uncle that he’d be leaving soon so as to not have a long conversation, when the most peculiar looking white bird caught his eye out the kitchen window.

The Dursleys were all eating and were not facing the window as Harry began to realize that whatever was outside the window it wasn’t a bird, and it was heading right for them. Aunt Petunia, who was directly across from Harry, noticed the expression of interest and guardedness on Harry’s face and turned just in time to see a paper airplane float in through the open window, and land right in the middle of the table, stuck in the butter.

They stared at it for a moment, as if mesmerized, until Petunia picked it out of the butter and unfolded it. Harry kicked himself, quickly realizing that it must be a letter and that he should have grabbed it off the table. Petunia’s lips got thinner and thinner as she continued on, until finally she gave Uncle Vernon a knowing look and handed the letter to him.

It only took Uncle Vernon one line for his face to turn purple. He rounded on Harry, as if the letter was his fault, and thrust the paper into his hands, apparently not wanting to speak.

Petunia,

It’s time for Harry to leave. You need to have him at Spinners End by seven tonight. Harry will know what he needs to pack and bring. Make sure your entire family comes with you.

Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry looked up at his Aunt with an odd expression on his face. What was Spinners End? Harry had never heard of such a place, but she obviously knew where it was, and by the expression on her face, Harry assumed that she probably wished she didn’t.

Trying to get out from under the Dursley’s silent glares, Harry excused himself and ran up the stairs for his belongings. He began bringing his trunk with Hedwig attached down into the entry way, but something was nagging him. Why couldn’t they just pick him up here?

By the time Harry had gotten all his things together, he noticed that all the Dursleys were dressed to leave, and Harry looked up at Petunia questioningly. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on.

“Don’t you have some way to… disappear?” Aunt Petunia flustered. Harry stood shock silent for a moment before nodding and moving towards his trunk. What was going on? Did they really want to not be seen with him so much that they’d rather he do magic to prevent it? Harry dug into his trunk until he pulled out the light cloth of his invisibility cloak.

“We’ll take care of the packages,” Uncle Vernon said curtly, motioning for Dudley and Harry to go to the car. Harry, not wanting to question their thoughtfulness, promptly followed Dudley to the car under his invisibility cloak.

Within minutes they were off, Harry remaining as silent as ever. There was an unspoken tension in the air, and Harry could see it in all of the Dursley’s faces. Aunt Petunia had thin lips telling of her anxiety. Dudley was twiddling his fingers, his eyes darting around as if looking for a specter passing by. Uncle Vernon was driving, his eyes staring straight ahead though seemingly unfocused, and more than once as they drove out to the countryside, Uncle Vernon narrowly missed hitting another car, swerving just in time.

As they drove on, the silence became far too thick for Harry, and so he ventured to strike up a conversation.

“Where are we going?” Harry had forgotten that he was still under the Invisibility Cloak and was only reminded when all three Dursleys jumped at the sound of his voice, Dudley looking slightly frantic. He began to remove the cloak, but as soon as he did Aunt Petunia hissed back at him.

“Are you a fool?! Put that back on!” Harry quickly put the cloak back over himself, waiting for her to continue. “We’re going to Spinners End.” Harry’s face, although concealed was terribly confused.

“And just where is that?” Aunt Petunia turned around to look at him, though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“You just wait till we get there and stop asking questions.” Aunt Petunia’s normal look of intense displeasure was on her face, but as she stared at Harry, he could have sworn that there was a cold fear in her eyes which he had never seen before, and Harry knew that somehow he was the cause of it.

The hours dragged on, and dinner time had come and gone by the time Uncle Vernon pulled off the highway onto a small two lane local road. Harry wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but he knew that it was somewhere up north.

As the sun pulled its long rays across the fields they were passing, Harry saw a clearing up ahead and felt sure that it must be where they were headed. The clearing was marked by a single tree which towered over the dirt, its leaves drifting slightly in the breeze, a canopy on an otherwise featureless patch.

Uncle Vernon turned the car into a gravel driveway and parked near the tree, getting out and moving to the back of the car. Harry looked around the dirt clearing and felt sure that they weren’t going to stay here; after all, there was nothing here but a tree. However, after Dudley and Aunt Petunia also exited the car, Harry felt sure that he was supposed to as well, and moved under his cloak to catch up to the Dursleys.

Dudley was helping Uncle Vernon unpack Harry’s things, and suddenly it dawned on Harry what was going on. They were leaving him here. They were going to abandon him here and have nothing to do with him. A small panic began to set in and Harry scampered after his Aunt who was walking over to the tree.

“Aunt Petunia!” he called, making her look up startled, trying to figure out where he was.

“Take that cloak off,” she told him plainly. He removed it carefully, setting it down at the trunk so that he knew where to find it.

“Why are you leaving me here?” Harry asked quickly. He didn’t want to waste time beating around the issue, he just wanted answers. “Dumbledore won’t be happy.”

“We’re not just leaving you boy, this is where we are supposed to drop you off.” She gave him a disapproving look, as if there was something he was supposed to have figured out.

“Oh, right in the middle of nowhere!” Harry fumed. He felt his face flush and knew that he was getting too worked up, but at the moment he didn’t care. “Just drop me, will you? You all have never really liked me, but at least you haven’t abandoned me! I never thought you’d stoop this low!” The effect of this on Aunt Petunia was quite unlike what Harry had been expecting. Her face was somewhere between abject horror, shame and reproachfullness.

“You aren’t the only one who knows what its like to be abandoned Potter.” She spat out his surname like it caused her terrible pain, and Harry at once softened his approach. “At least your parents didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. He felt a twinge of anger at hearing Aunt Petunia refer to his parent’s deaths so casually, but it was accompanied by something else which he had never associated with Aunt Petunia. Could it be… sympathy?

“Er – I’m sorry,” Harry clumsily apologized, for it was something he had never had to do with either his Aunt or Uncle out of guilt. “I guess I just – well, what’s going on?”

“You’re always so ungrateful, all the things we go through.” Aunt Petunia looked like she was hurting to even consider the words she was forming. “If only you knew the danger we were in, the danger you are in. But that fool won’t let me tell you.” She surveyed Harry for a moment before proceeding. “We brought you here because that old man of yours asked us to. We won’t see you again until next summer,” she affirmed curtly as Uncle Vernon and Dudley brought Harry’s things over to them by the tree. There was a look in Aunt Petunia’s eyes that Harry was sure he’d seen before but never understood, as if she was torn at sight of him, but concerned that he’d be alright.

“We’re ready,” Uncle Vernon said solemnly, looking straight at Petunia. She glanced between Uncle Vernon and Dudley before turning back to Harry.

“Spinners End can be found at 6 Rogpath Road, Cornsay,” she said slowly and clearly, and right before Harry’s eyes, a barn appeared next to him that he was sure had not been there before with a small hand carved sign above the door which read “Spinner’s End – The Rendezvous”.

3. Through The Looking Glass

Chapter 3: Through The Looking Glass

For a moment, Harry simply stared blankly. His mind had not caught up with his eyes, and it only struck Harry what had happened when he heard the Dursley's car roar to life.

"Wait!" Harry cried frantically, running towards their vehicle. "How… I mean, you’re a… secret keeper?" The absurdness of what he was asking hadn't quite come to him yet, and he was still partially expecting to wake up in a few moments, his face buried in homework that he'd already completed several times. Aunt Petunia turned around and gave Harry a meaningful look, but said nothing as she climbed into the passenger seat.

Harry raised his hand to motion for Uncle Vernon to stop, but just as he was about to voice his protest a sound from the newly visible barn behind him drew his attention, giving the Dursley's their window of opportunity to drive away unimpaired.

"Wotcher, Harry! How are you?" Harry immediately recognized the young witch and offered a small smile before turning back to see the Dursely's pulling out of the gravel. "The Muggles treat you alright?" Harry turned back to Tonks, trying to organize the thoughts in his head.

This had all seemed so… blasé; anticlimactic in a way. There had been no startling event that led to his removal from Privet Drive this year, no attempt on his life, no efforts to keep him from returning to Hogwarts, or at least not yet anyway. The calmness was extremely unnerving to him, just as complete silence is a danger signal to many animals of prey.

He didn’t feel like his summer with the Dursleys was over yet, but they were gone, and here he was talking to Tonks. Perhaps part of that was because the days seemed to blend together in Harry's dark room that he'd been retreating to.

"Er – yeah, I suppose," he offered lamely. He paused, realizing that Tonks was probably covertly trying to ask about Sirius as well. "I’m doing fine," he offered flatly in an entirely unconvincing tone.

"Right then," Tonks said, either not noticing his lack of enthusiasm or ignoring it on purpose. "Want to come in?" She motioned for Harry to enter to barn-like building. Harry went briefly to collect his things, then entered with Hedwig and his trunk in hand.

Inside was rather plain, with a large bed in one corner, a small kitchen in another and a table with a few chairs in the center of the single room, covered with only a few pieces of parchment. The walls were devoid of any decorations, except for three full length mirrors along the back wall which all had a different style to them.

"What is this place?" Harry asked pointedly. It was so plain that it did not appear it could possibly be a place you'd find Tonks, or drop off Harry Potter. His curiosity had conquered his confusion and gloom.

"This is Spinners End Harry." She glanced behind them and looked back at Harry’s eyes. "Hold on, let me get the door." Tonks moved towards the open door and pulled them shut, latching them from the inside.

"So, you were saying?" Harry probed, sitting down at the table. He pulled up one of the papers on the desk in front of him, but they all instantly disappeared with a flick of Tonks' wrist. She gave him a pained smile, then walked over to the corner with the kitchen.

"Yes. This is Spinners End. It’s a rendezvous for the Order." Tonks placed water on the burner for tea, and turned back to face Harry who was looking around the simple room.

"And my Aunt is the secret keeper?" Harry asked pointedly.

"Yes, but before you ask me why or how, I don’t know anything about it. You’ll have to talk to Dumbledore for that." She looked at him with what Harry was sure was pity. Harry didn't like being pitied nearly as much as he didn't like publicity. Pity made people coddle him like a child, and coddling is why he hadn't known the prophecy until just this last June.

"And why would this be the rendezvous? Why not at Grimmauld?" Harry looked at her intently as she turned around and lifted the now whistling kettle off the burner. She conjured up two cups and began to pour the boiling water into them.

"This place is a little more, er, unconnected if you catch my meaning. Grimmauld is an old wizarding house, known by many to at least exist, event if its actual location is now kept secret." Tonks handed Harry his cup of tea and took a quick sip of hers. "Even with the protections, it wouldn't look good if we all were coming and going from Grimmauld all the time." She grinned for a moment. "Plus there's nothing out here. A lot harder to approach unnoticed."

"I bet that’s a pain for the Order though."

"No. You see, we have other methods of getting here." She gestured towards the mirrors on the wall. "Those are special two-way mirrors. Do you know what those are?" Harry’s gaze quickly dropped to his swirling dregs, and his thoughts immediately went to the broken mirror in his trunk.

"Yeah," Harry said in a deflated voice. "I know what those are." Tonks looked at Harry questioningly for a moment, but quickly returned to regarding the mirrors.

"Well, these ones are special. These ones were made just for the Order by Dumbledore himself. Don’t know what exactly he did, but they act like portals almost." She pointed over towards them. "The one in the middle goes to Grimmauld Place. The one on the left goes to Dumbledore’s office. The one on the right... it goes to the Ministry."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Tonks. "The Ministry? Are we on friendly terms with them now?" Harry tried to make his question sound as innocent as possible, however, Tonks was not to be fooled.

"Sorry Harry, it's not my decision. Talking about Order business is something that Dumbledore mostly deals with." She gave Harry a pitying glance. "Let's just say they are more willing to listen to our point of view now." Harry snorted.

"I should hope so. They caught Death Eaters inside their own facilities... not to mention Voldemort himself!" Tonks flinched. "It's about time they woke up."

"Yes, well..." Tonks trailed off, looking around briefly as if to make sure they were alone. "I suppose I could tell you a bit." She took a gulp from her tea which was now a much more pleasant temperature. "Fudge is in a bit of a spot if you ask me."

"What's that mean?" Harry glanced back at the mirrors, then turned his attention to Tonks again.

"Well." She paused, eying Harry carefully. "This is all my own speculation, so don't think this is any special Ministry insider tidbit." She took another sip. "After the break in at the Ministry a few weeks ago, it's slowly been coming to light that Fudge was running things according to how he wished things to be, not how they really were. The Prophet's been grinding him into the ground over it." Harry watched her, listening intently.

"He's had to accept many of the, er, 'measures' which Dumbledore had proposed before in order to keep his office." She finished off her tea, looking at empty cup a bit sadly. "If you ask me, he's on his way out and he knows it."

"Well that's a good thing," Harry said brightly. Tonks shook her head.

"No, he's on his way out, Harry, and he's trying to hold on to power. I suspect that he might take some... drastic measures to remain Minister as long as possible." Harry got a sudden vision of Percy furious writing a nasty letter to someone in order to make his boss look better.

"Yeah, I see what you mean."

Tonks looked at Harry for a moment as if inspecting him for something, before finally breaking away and grabbing something off the bed. "Something for your birthday Harry. Don't know if I'll be around then or on duty." She handed the small package to Harry which was, as he noted taking it from her, remarkably light for its size. He opened it, and from the inside came two mirrors.

"Real two-way mirrors," she told him, beaming. Harry could feel pain welling up inside him, and he held onto his composure with all his effort. "You can talk to a friend if you want from across the grounds. Nifty little things really." She stared at his face for a moment. "Well, I thought it was a good gift..." she trailed off, still staring at Harry.

"No," he said, "it's perfect. Thanks." With that he motioned towards the hanging mirrors. "Best be going, shouldn't we?" Tonks nodded.

"Don't worry about your things," she told him. "I'll send them with Shacklebolt when he comes around later." Harry nodded, but suddenly remembered something.

"There is one thing I'd like to grab," he said, dashing out the door as quickly as he could manage. He searched for a few minutes before he saw its faint essence and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak. He ran back inside, shutting the doors again. "Couldn't leave this lying around," he told her, grabbing the present and heading for the mirrors.

"Are you ready?" Tonks asked. Hairy nodded. "Alright. Middle mirror. Step through as quickly as possible. They're expecting you." She smiled. "Happy Birthday Harry." Harry flashed her a genuine grin and stepped through the looking glass.

The experience wasn't quite like a portkey, but it wasn't like Floo either. He felt like he was being stretched as he put his hand through the mirror. Already his finger tips could feel the other side where they lost the elongated feeling, emerging normal once more. He pushed his arm out first, but it acted like a slingshot and the more of him came out the other side, the faster his stretched body approached the barrier. He came tumbling out the other side feeling as though he had stepped through solid steel, thoroughly disoriented. The feeling was compounded however as momentarily his vision was clouded by brown hair, the sound of several people yelping adding to his confusion.

"Hello Hermione," he said, realizing who has accosted him. She pulled away and beamed at him. He could see Ron and Ginny right behind her and could hear the approach of Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm so glad you're finally here," Hermione said emphatically. Ginny was grinning madly in agreement and Ron came over to clap Harry on the back.

"It's about time you had a proper birthday," he declared. Harry grinned, looking at Ron then Hermione. I wonder what my birthdays are usually like... Harry mused. It took him a few moments to realize that he already knows what his birthdays are usually like, unimportant and tortuous.

"Yeah," Harry responded, but his mind was drifting elsewhere. He looked at his friends and all he saw was his failure. He'd been separated from Ron, but Hermione had been right there in front of him when Dolohov cursed her.

He knew that they were looking at him concerned, as he had suddenly slipped out of the present, but all Harry could see was the surprised look on Hermione's face and the purple streaks, then rushing over to check her and having Neville tell him there was a pulse. The moment in which she had fallen had seemed like an eternity in which he felt helpless.

He saw Ron being attacked by an ethereal pickled brain, grabbing him with tentacles of what were apparently thought. He saw the horrific screaming that Ron had emitted when the brain attacked him. All he saw was failure. He never wanted to see a friend of his fall like that again. Ever.

"Are you alright mate?" Ron asked. Hermione glared at him for asking such a stupid question; and Harry had to agree, the question sending him into reliving the last couple of weeks, which even now seemed too dark altogether. The mere presence of his friends seemed to separate him from the before, something that Harry would do anything to have.

"Yeah, I'm alright," Harry told him, flashing a quick smile and quickly averting his eyes to the door where Mrs. Weasley had just entered.

"There you are dear! I was beginning to get worried." She pulled him into a quick hug. "I expect that you left your things with Tonks." Harry nodded his reply. "Well then, Arthur has a pair of pajamas that you may wear for tonight if Shacklebolt can't make it." He nodded. "Your birthday will be terrific Harry. We even managed to remove the painting of Sirius' mother."

And it was at this moment that realization came crashing down on Harry, and it dawned on him that this was Sirius' house, where he had tried to contact Sirius through the fireplace but instead gotten Kreacher. His face suddenly filled with something which puzzled Ron, but made Hermione gasp.

"Don't Harry! You don't even have your wand!" she told him.

"I'll kill him." Harry said it with such cold indifference and stark determination that it made Hermione's eyes begin to water. Ron seemed to catch on at this point and stared at Harry in confused shock. "I'll kill him with my bare hands."

4. Return To Grimmauld

Chapter 4: Return To Grimmauld

Harry stormed out of the parlor searching, Ron, Hermione and Ginny not far behind. He dashed through the house, looking for the rag covered creature, his friends shouting his name behind him.

“Harry!” Ron yelled. “Stop!”

“He's not here Harry!” Hermione shouted. Harry stopped and turned around to face them. It felt like his rage had been building all summer and was finally being released. He looked between them, their faces full of concern. His anger was overwhelming him, and as he realized what he had been doing and what he had said, all he could think about was Sirius and how it had been his fault. The stress was too much, and he simply fell onto his knees, tears streaming down his face.

Ron and Ginny looked at each other in confusion, not knowing what to do. Hermione however took a step toward Harry, grabbing Ron's arm. She walked over to Harry and sat down next to him, motioning for Ron to do the same.

“Harry?” she asked quietly. Harry lurched slightly from his silent sobs.

“He's gone,” Harry said with such finality that neither Hermione or Ron could respond. “I should have listened to you. Now look at me, making death threats.” He stopped for a moment, catching his breath and wiping his eyes. “I can't figure out why you two even hang around me.”

“Because,” Hermione said, “we love you. You're our friend.” Ron looked at her alarmed, but she gave him a piercing stare, and he turned back to Harry.

“That's right mate. We wouldn't just leave you.” Ron laid a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry looked up at Ron, and smiled.

“I'm acting like a git,” Harry said. “Sorry. I don't remember the last time I cried... and it had to be in front of you guys.” Harry smiled and wiped his eyes one more time.

“It just proves that you're human,” Hermione said evenly, and that settled it. She stood up and walked over to the stairs. “Come on you two, we've got a lot of catching up to do.” Ron and Harry looked at each other and grinned.

“We better hurry up,” Ron said. “Before she gets upset.” Ron and Harry dashed up the stairs to the room Hermione had entered; Ron and Harry's room. Harry looked around the room and saw the painting which contained Sirius' relative, Phineas. For a moment Harry thought he might become overwhelmed again, but to his pleasant surprise he felt a sadness, but not a debilitating one. It was as if the cry he had just had drained some of the excess off of him; as if some of the weight of his future had been lifted.

“So how has your summer been Harry?” Hermione looked at him expectantly. Harry's mind reached back to that time that now seemed so far away. It felt like he hadn't been to Hogwarts in years, as if he had been sleeping the entire time since he had returned.

“Dark,” Harry answered, thinking of how he remembered his room. “I stayed in my room.” He turned to Hermione. “You'll be happy to know that I finished all of my homework. I had nothing else to do.” He thought for a moment. “I did use my cousin's weight room every now and then I suppose.”

“I was wondering about that,” Ron said. He looked Harry up and down quickly. “You looked... I don't know... bigger.” Harry wasn't sure if he should thank him or laugh. Fortunately, Hermione saved him from having to guess.

“It sounds like it's been absolutely dreadful,” she told him. “At least you're here now, right?” Harry nodded. He had been waiting for this all summer long, and now that it was here, he was forgetting what to say.

“I'm sorry you guys,” Harry told them, looking out the window. “I almost got you killed.” He turned back to see Hermione and Ron glance at each other. He knew they had probably prepared for this conversation.

“It wasn't your fault,” Ron said. “Hell, it was probably as much my fault as yours. I was absolutely useless.” Ron drifted off as if he were remembering something painful. Harry looked at him remembering Madam Pomphery's words about Ron's damage.

“I know you guys are going to try and convince me otherwise, and I'm sure that you've planned this all out, but it was me that dragged you all there into a trap.” Harry turned to Hermione. “A trap you knew was there.” Harry felt his eyes begin to fill again. “You followed me even though you knew it was a trap.” He said it as if he were reciting something that was impossible.

“We all did Harry,” Hermione told him. “We all thought he was in trouble after the fireplace. It wasn't anyone's fault.” Harry looked down again; he could no longer bring himself to look at them. “If anything, I should have been more alert. I didn't study hard enough or serious enough in the D.A. or my classes...” Hermione trailed off. It was clear to Harry that all three of them felt it was their fault, but Harry knew something that they didn't.

“I could've prevented it.” Harry said quietly. “I could've found out it was a trap.” They both looked at him, but he was still staring at the bed.

“Harry, He tricked us all–” Harry looked up, interrupting Hermione.

“No, you don't understand. I had a two-way mirror that I could have talked to Sirius with. No one had to get hurt.” Harry felt another salty tear roll down his cheek. Hermione and Ron were looking at him with a stunned look. This was something they hadn't pre-scripted. He continued. “I was so bent on getting to the Department of Mysteries that I didn't even stop to think, and I put you all in danger.” Harry looked at Hermione. “I almost killed you.” Ron and Hermione paused for a moment before breaking the silence.

“It's alright mate,” Ron told him grabbing Harry's shoulders. “We're here and we're fine. You aren't alone.” At these words Harry got the sudden urge to prove just how wrong Ron was and tell them the prophecy which Dumbledore had confided in him, but thought better of it and simply nodded.

“We're not leaving and that's that,” Hermione declared. The three of them grinned, even though nothing was really funny. “You're birthday is just a few days away,” Hermione reminded him. “We're going to have to go to Diagon Ally tomorrow.” Harry nodded.

“Mum said that I could stay here at Grimmauld for a little while. She's heading back to The Burrow in a little while, but there should be a few Order members here tonight.” Ron grinned for a moment. “Ginny wasn't too happy that they wouldn't be staying, but mum said that this isn't our home and that we have to at least pretend we aren't in the Order. She thought too many of us being gone for long periods of time would look suspicious.”

Harry simply nodded. The rest of the night was filled with random conversations and questions between the three. Dinner was prepared by Mrs. Weasley before she left, and before long they were all in their rooms, Shacklebolt having stopped by, Mr. Weasley staying the night, asleep.

Harry awoke the next morning with the sun bathing his face. He didn't know exactly what time it was, but it seemed about midmorning by the position of the sun. He glanced over at Ron to find him still fast asleep, heavy breathing noises coming from him. Harry pulled himself out of bed and walked down the stairs into the kitchen. Hermione and Mr. Weasley were up eating some toast and talking. They stopped and looked at Harry.

“Good morning,” Hermione said with a smile.

“Today we're taking you to Diagon Ally,” Mr. Weasley told Harry, grabbing the jam and covering his remaining piece of toast. Harry nodded and headed over to the stove. He found bread waiting there and eggs and breakfast meats in the fridge. Having made breakfast for the Dursleys many times, Harry was adept at preparing a meal for himself and in minutes had a complete breakfast on his plate. Mr. Weasley and Hermione both watched him in mild surprise as he handled himself in the kitchen.

“Where'd you learn to cook like that?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Practice,” Harry answered simply. “It's only breakfast... nothing complicated.”

The smell of cooking bacon had evidentially woken up Ron who came trudging around the corner yawning.

“Smells good,” Ron said, looking for his plate. It took him a few moments to realize that there was no spare plate.

“Food's in the kitchen,” Mr. Weasley said, going back to his newspaper. Harry smiled as a dark look spread over Ron's face. He was certain that Ron would be having nothing but toast this morning.

When breakfast was done and they had all dressed themselves, they gathered around the fireplace to Floo to Diagon Ally.

“Speak clearly,” Mr. Weasley reminded Harry. He nodded and took a pinch of the powder in his hands. He stepped into the fireplace and made sure to say properly, 'Diagon Ally' before releasing the powder. The feeling of tumbling and spinning came over Harry and it wasn't long before he found himself standing at the end of the now familiar shopping lane. The others came through the fireplace quickly behind him, and after a quick trip to Gringott's, they were on their way to look for birthday arrangements.

Ron and Harry naturally gravitated towards the brooms, but Hermione kept them on task, taking them through a few shops which they had never had need to visit before. They had just walked into Magical Occasions when Harry accidentally bumped into someone.

“Ouch,” Harry said, picking himself up. “Sorry about– Luna!” Harry was surprised to see the wide-eyed blond Ravenclaw standing in front of him with a bag of what looked like party supplies. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked eying the bag.

“My dad just made a new discovery with the Bramble Backed Biskuks. We're throwing a party.” She looked at Harry for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting supplies,” Harry answered.

“It's Harry's birthday in a few days,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. Harry couldn't help but smile at meeting Luna. She had been the only person that he really felt like he could talk to right after Sirius died. It somehow hadn't felt hard, as if she knew what he was trying to say when he talked about it. Luna looked at the three for a few moments before looking back to Harry.

“I better be going,” she remarked, and with that, left. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked into the store and spent a few minutes picking out decorations. It felt very odd to be planning a birthday party for Harry. He had never had more than what he could provide himself and had previously been ignored on his birthday; to have someone want to plan something for him was entirely foreign.

After a short while longer deciding on things, which really meant Ron and Harry asking Hermione what she thought was best, they met back up with Mr. Weasley who had been out shopping for a present for Harry. This made Harry feel a bit uneasy, as he knew that the Weasleys weren't the richest of wizarding families, but thought he ought not bring it up or he might upset Ron.

They returned to Grimmauld and for a few days did almost nothing. Hermione tried to get Ron to finish the homework which Harry and Hermione had already completed, but Harry thought that was probably a losing battle.

The night before his birthday Hermione was pestering him to go to bed, making Harry wonder what was going on.

“We have to set the house up,” she said simply. At the word 'we' Ron got a fearful look, glancing around to check if there was someone else in the room. “It's your birthday Harry. It has to be a surprise.” Ron looked at Harry.

“Yes, you'll be shocked to learn that we're planning something for your birthday, which happens to be tomorrow.” Hermione glared at Ron.

“That isn't what I meant,” Hermione told him in an affronted tone.

“I don't see why we have to–” Harry interrupted them.

“It's alright guys, I'll go.” With that, he picked himself up off the armchair in front of the fire and started towards the stairs.

“I'll be up later,” Ron said.

“Goodnight Harry,” Hermione called after him. With a smile on his face, he reached his bed and realized that this was going to be his best birthday ever.

5. Turning The Corner

A/N: Well, I do so apologize to anyone who actually read the previous four chapters and waited for the fifth. To be honest, I kind of lost the will to write. The actual book 6 and book 7 were so disappointing that I did not feel especially good about writing.

I also received less feedback on the previous chapters than I had originally hoped. But in the end, I wrote this out because I wanted to. I have a story that I feel is worth telling, and I want to keep telling it.

On a side note, I'm looking for a beta reader to give me feedback and pester me about finishing my chapters. If anyone is interested, let me know.

Chapter 5: Turning The Corner

Harry woke up with a calm feeling that he wasn't used to. He didn't want to open his eyes... His dream had been so nice; a change from recent dreams. But as his mind became more corporeal, his grasp on what his dream was became looser and looser, until he was left looking at the ceiling with nothing but a content feeling filling him.

The time seemed as if it wasn't passing just laying there, but eventually Harry wrenched himself out of bed and pulled his clothes over his body. It was only then that something struck Harry: today was his birthday. He quickly looked around the room, just to make sure. Just as he thought, Ron wasn't there, and the clock only said 10 AM. Very suspicious indeed.

He opened the door slowly, an odd feeling in his stomach. He had never been anticipating going down the stairs on his birthday... it felt odd. As if it was something that didn't belong in Harry Potter's life. It was something that belongs to others, people who had a future...

Harry shook those thoughts from his head and slowly crept down the stairs. Everything was so quiet. Did everyone leave?

But the thought was fleeting and quickly dispelled by the smell of cooking breakfast meats. He poked his head into the kitchen upon reaching the bottom floor and was shocked by what he saw. Before him stood Ron and Hermione, both bustling around the kitchen, managing all sorts of food. Hermione looked as if she were concentrating hard on a difficult question while Ron appeared to be wrestling a Skrewt.

"What are you two doing?" Harry asked, causing both of them to jump. Ron turned and got a guilty look on his face, as if he had been caught in act of doing something wrong, but Hermione turned to him with a look of surprise.

"Get out of here!" she sputtered, pushing him back into the dining room. "You stay in here and wait until it's ready!" She turned to leave and Harry could hardly contain himself but for the fact that he didn't know how to respond. So out of habit he sat down and did exactly what she told him to.

Yawning as he looked around the room, Harry noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on the table and quickly picked it up to read the first page. The headline made Harry snort with indignation and a fair bit of contempt.

Ministry Assures Public Department of Mysteries Incident Isolated

Harry glanced down at the picture, a plump official looking wizard holding his hands as if to calm the reader down, motioning as you might to quiet someone. Harry opened the paper and glanced over the other stories. As he read them he felt as if he was being coddled, like you would a child.

"This isn't news anymore," Harry muttered in disgust as he put the paper back on the table.

"Oh, it could be worse," a voice from the door observed. Harry turned and greeted Mr. Weasley with a smile. "Happy Birthday, Harry." Mr. Weasley sat down next to Harry, grabbing the paper Harry had just discarded. "What's that wonderful smell?" he asked.

"Err... I think it's a birthday present," Harry mumbled. Mr. Weasley smiled and nodded.

"I still can't believe that Hermione got Ron into the kitchen," he said with a chuckle.

Harry was about to voice his surprise as well when the door to the kitchen opened revealing Ron and Hermione carrying several trays of the most elaborate breakfast foods Harry had ever seen outside of Hogwarts.

"Happy Birthday Harry," Ron said as they placed the plates in front of him.

"I don't really know what to say," Harry murmured, taking in all the food in front of him. He saw at least five different breakfast meats, eggs, several kinds of toast and preserves, a few pastries on the side, a few waffles and pancakes, and a couple different beverages. He looked up at Ron, then rested his eyes on Hermione. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," Hermione told him, "this little gift was Ron's idea." Harry looked over at Ron, who was quickly turning red, with a shocked expression on his face.

"But you don't even know how to cook!" Harry exclaimed. He looked back down at the breakfast before him, then over at Mr. Weasley. From the look on his face, he also had just learned of Ron's sudden creativeness. He turned back to Ron and a large smile broke out on his face like the Sun shining through friendly clouds on a warm day.

"Thanks Ron... this really means a lot to me..." Ron shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"S'nothing," he said softly. "I didn't know how to make any of it... would have been sunk without Hermione." Harry stood and put one arm around each of them, feeling an exuberance that he hadn't felt since his unplanned trip to the Ministry. His troubles and problems had melted away; only the feeling he felt now seemed to exist. It was different, Harry realized. He felt loved.

"Well," Mr. Weasley started, "best finish up breakfast. Afterwards I've been told to keep watch over the house while the three of you spend some time outdoors. I think we can spare one day outside in London, Harry." He grinned.

Harry sat down with Ron and Hermione, and together they ate their breakfast. Though they'd had better prepared meals at Hogwarts, there was a certain satisfaction of having something homemade that seemed to make the food taste better than it was.

It wasn't long before the three of them had finished and they promptly left the house. Harry was thankful for the time outdoors, just walking. He hadn't been allowed outside the house at all while he had been with the Dursley's, and walking outside in the sun with his two best friends, Harry felt another small weight lift off him.

The trio spent the day out in Muggle London, walking around and enjoying the small pleasures such as ice cream. Hermione and Harry enjoyed showing Ron some of the interesting things about Muggle life in London, explaining how the transit system works several times before Ron was able to put it all together.

When they returned to Grimmauld it was beginning to get dark, and the three of them were thoroughly tired of traveling. They walked into the house to find the entrance busy with activity as many people were in the house talking in groups. Harry looked around the room and saw familiar faces all over, and as the people in the room noticed the entrance, they raised their glasses with a chorus of "Happy Birthday"s.

"What's this?" Harry asked Tonks, who was close to him standing with Kingsley.

"Well you didn't think we'd go without a party for your birthday, did you Harry?" He smiled. She had on a flashy red outfit with apple red hair to match.

Harry felt an anticipation at seeing everyone in the room that was quite odd. It was as if he was anticipating his own reaction to the birthday party. He burst into a wide smile and beamed around the room at his companions. He couldn't recall ever being in a room where he felt more wanted in his life. All of the faces smiling at him; all there to wish him the best.

As he looked between the faces his smile drained however. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop himself. Looking at all of the friendly faces made Sirius' absence from them seem painful in a way which it hadn't all day long. Harry's moods had been moving up and down at breakneck speeds recently, moving from the highs of situations such as his birthday, to the lows of rememberence and guilt.

Harry looked up, realizing that the room had become tense in its silence, and saw everyone staring at him with concern. He looked over at Ron, then to Hermione, and as his eyes landed on her he felt them tingle, and a thought dashed through his mind. I wish I could help.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, trying to dismiss the uncomfortable silence. "I'm just kind of tired from the day... never really been sightseeing through Muggle London and all." He cracked a half-smile that seemed to put everyone in to room back into the scene. Lupin handed Harry a drink and started asking him about his day.

Everything about the party was beyond Harry's fondest dreams. His presents had been nothing short of excellent. The Weasley's gave him a cloak which would always keep him warm. From Fred & George, Harry received what appeared to be an empty box, but he was wary of believing that it was that simple of a prank. Ron gave him a set of Quidditch goggles that could change to fit the prescription for any pair of eyeglasses. Hermione's present was a book about hands on teaching techniques. When he asked, she explained it was just in case he found himself wishing for the times teaching the Dumbledore's Army.

The gifts he received were numerous and thoughtful. Everyone had seemed to put in a genuine effort to make up for all the lost birthday's Harry had suffered. The party lasted long into the night, and by the time the night was over, he felt loved in a way that he had never felt before.

There was a comfort within him about the people around him now that had not been there before, and he was glad of it. As he drifted to sleep, he smiled as the thought of his two best friends crossed his mind.

I have the best friends in the world.

* * * *

Harry was in a much better mood the rest of the week, and for the first time in a long time, he simply enjoyed himself. Though most of his time was spent indoors at Grimmauld, he did not feel trapped as he had before. Rather he felt free, spending time with his friends, forgetting many of his own troubles.

That morning Hermione was berating Ron once again for not having started on his homework.

"But Hemione, school is almost a month away," Ron whined, grabbing a pastry from the table.

"The homework this year is very involved," Hermione chided, "and besides, you're the only one of us who hasn't finished it yet." She turned to Harry for a moment and beamed at him in admiration. Ron passed him a dirty look, almost as if he was betrayed.

"I just had nothing else to do," Harry explained. Both Hermione and Ron seemed to dismiss this answer, though for quite different reasons.

"But Transfiguration is so dull," Ron whined, taking a bite of his pastry. Hermione got a flustered look on her face, as if someone had insulted her, and seemed as if she were torn.

"If I was of age," she said slowly, her fingers twitching, "I'd transfigure your pastry into a spider and show you just how dull transfiguration can be." Ron sputtered, nearly choking on his breakfast, and looked at the pastry in his hand as if to make sure it had not sprouted legs. Harry suppressed a laugh and grabbed a pastry for himself. Ron was about to issue a retort when Kingsley walked into the room.

"Good morning Harry," he said in a mildly professional tone. "Hermione, Ron." He turned back to Harry. "Today is August 10th Harry, and Dumbledore sent me to escort you to the ministry."

Harry wondered for a moment why that date seemed so familiar when he realized that today was the reading of Sirius' will. He didn't know what to say, which was fine as he didn't really feel like saying much.

"The ministry?" Hermione asked. "Why would Harry need to visit the ministry?"

Harry realized that he had forgotten to tell Ron and Hermione of his appointment, although to be fair he had forgotten about it all together.

"Sirius' will," Harry explained. Kingsley nodded and Ron gave Harry an odd look.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. Harry sighed.

"To be honest, I forgot." Harry had enjoyed forgetting. The world was much easier for him to enjoy when he forgot about the things looming over him. His two friends studied him; Ron with doubt, Hermione with... Harry wasn't quite sure. Sorrow? Sympathy?

"Well," she started evenly, "I'm sure that he left you something nice." She gave him a small, comforting hug before turning back to Ron. "And this would be the perfect time for you to start your homework." Ron rolled his eyes and, giving Hermione a defeated look, turned back to Harry.

"Hurry back, she'll have me cleaning the place like an elf if you're too long." Hermione gave Ron a light swat in the back of his head, and Harry laughed lightly before spinning back to Kingsley.

"Alright, let's go," Harry said solemnly. Kingsley nodded and they walked over to the fireplace, each declaring their destination. The spinning darkness had barely faded and Harry was already feeling a wave of emotion sweep over him at the sight of the entryway to the Ministry.

The pair turned to their left and walked over to the security counter as they passed the fountain which Harry had been intrigued by the first time he had been here.

"Hello there, Eric," Kingsley volunteered. "Just headed to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for an appointment." Eric nodded and turned to Harry, finally noticing who the visitor was.

"My word," Eric started. "Certainly have seen you a few times." Harry knew that the man had meant it in a joking manner, but Harry could help the surge of... anger that overcame him at the man's comment. It's not as if Harry wanted to be here, or had wanted to be here any of the previous times he'd entered the Ministry.

"If I could have your wand?" Eric said, holding out his hand. Harry felt compelled to tell Eric just where he could put his wand for a moment, but slowly, grudgingly, handed the wand over to him.

The official put the wand on the odd device he had seen last year, and turned to Harry with the paper it produce. "11 inches, Holly, Phoenix core?" Harry simply nodded and held out his hand for Eric to replace the wand.

As the two left the security booth and began to wait for a lift, Harry pulled back to when he had first received the letter about Sirius' will. It made him feel dimmer the longer he thought about it, but a sudden realization struck Harry, and the bottom seemed to fall out from his stomach. Harry had the understanding even if his mind could not form the words for several seconds, and an anger began to bubble in him, like one of Neville's potions.

Dumbledore is reading the will, Harry seethed in his mind. He had thought about the Headmaster several times over the summer, never with a positive outlook, but still, he had felt almost a weary indifference to him previously, as if Dumbledore had become a necessary nuisance that you put up with because you had to.

But Harry felt far from indifferent right now. His anger was rising at the thought of Dumbledore reading Sirius' will. Sirius' will! Harry still blamed Dumbledore for a large part of... the current situation, but reading Sirius' will just seemed wrong somehow.

Harry felt a gentle push on his back and realized that while he had been in his own world of thought they had caught a lift and arrived at the proper floor. Kingsley gently guided Harry to the room which they were headed to, and when Harry got there he found something that appeared to be a small conference room of sorts.

There at the head of the table sat Dumbledore, looking weary and apprehensive as Harry had ever seen him, and for some reason Harry's anger melted at the sight. The sparkle in the Headmaster's eyes was gone. Harry did not know why, but the realization that Dumbledore seemed deeply affected by something, quite possibly the task at hand, quashed Harry's anger, and for the second time in the last few weeks, Harry came to an important, yet surprisingly startling conclusion: Dumbledore was human too.

Harry slowly took his seat at the opposite end of the table. There was a goblin in the room, no doubt from Gringott's, as well as Kingsley, who remained standing next to Harry's chair.

"Very well then," the goblin rasped. He lifted a very large stack of envelopes onto table in front of the Headmaster. "The top envelope is the will to be executed. The rest are contents of the will." The goblin stepped back and let the old wizard begin to open the topmost envelope.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore began. Harry startled slightly at the address, as if he had not been expecting Dumbledore to speak.

"Hello," Harry muttered, then slowly he added, "sir." Dumbledore's face fell slightly at the response, but he continued to remove the letter which was contained within the envelope.

Dumbledore cleared his throat as he unfolded the letter and began reading in the way that only he could.

"To my legacy:

"Contained herein are my wishes and last words should any unfortunate event befall me. If it is Dumbledore who is reading this will, I ask as the first part of my will that everyone except Harry shall leave the room with no exceptions."

Dumbledore set down the letter slowly and as Harry looked up from the table to the Headmaster's face he saw something that he had never quite seen before: Dumbledore looked hurt.

He collected himself and Kingsley warrily accompanied Dumbledore to the door. He turned.

"The will said everyone," he said to the goblin. The goblin looked nastily at the Auror, but put up no resistance as he made his way for the door. Once Harry was left alone in the room, he suddenly felt disconnected. He would not be pulled through this by others who simply were doing their part, he was going to have to do this himself.

The resolve came remarkably quickly, and Harry walked over to the will, which had been left where Dumbledore had sat. He picked it up and read from where Dumbledore had left off.

"Harry,

"This is my will. It will become an official record after this reading, so please understand that anyone may know the contents of this particular letter once the will has been executed.

"I updated my will once a week while I was here at Grimmauld. Nothing else to do really, but it was a lot less of a morbid task than I thought it would be originally when Dumbledore first encouraged me.

"Dumbledore... I sent him out of the room as my last word, Harry. He is a great man, make no mistake, but he is also very stubborn and convinced of his own flawlessness, much like me and your father were. It is my hope that by refusing to allow him to read my will, I will finally reach him, perhaps in a way that I could not while living.

"There is plenty which is still left to be said. I feel especially bad for you should this be the will that you read, as this past week is not the best time for me to kick the bucket. However, as I am sure you know somewhere deep inside you, I have been living as much without regret as possible this last year, and I wish for you to do the same.

"Regret is a funny thing Harry. It is so natural and unnoticed, yet it consumes you. It possesses you in a way that no dark wizard can. I truly hope that you can understand that no matter how I died, I died knowing that I fulfilled my promise to your parents, and I fulfilled my promise to myself.

"There is much yet that you need to hear, that I need to be there so I can tell you, and yet I am not. As I am not there, I have bequeathed to you the letters with which this will comes, each addressed differently. Several are for you, however many are for others as well. And yes, I left one for Dumbledore.

"Please give these letters to their intended recipients when you feel they are ready to fully understand themselves. Each letter contains honesty that you can only expect from a a dead man, and so I feel it would not be wise for anyone to read it until they are prepared.

"The materials which my legacy has left me I leave to you. The first letter you will open shall explain in more detail, however, please understand that you must also only open your letters when the correct time comes. Each letter will only do you the good I intend at exactly the right time.

"I love you Harry. I love as much as one man can ever really love another, and I fear that you shall not understand that quite yet. Your parents gave their lives because they loved you. I gave mine for the same reasons. You are known by many as an orphan, as the boy who had no parents to love him.

"But that is not true Harry."

Harry startled in surprise at what Sirius had just wrote, tears now rolling off his cheeks. He continued.

"But that is not true Harry. Your mother and father showed you a love than many parents never can, and you have many more parents than you realize. Sometimes I felt like I was your father, others I felt like an older brother. But the point is that you have a family. You are proof of that in that you live. Even as your family doesn't even have their own lives anymore, they have you.

"That's a powerful thing Harry. Because you exist, your parents and your friends continue to live. That is more important to understand than anything else you can possibly know. We all die, Harry. But very few of us only truly live when we die.

"Please sign below, (once the others come back in), so that you may receive the inheritance. I leave you a part of myself in this. Please do not throw it away.

"Padfoot

"PS: Say hello to Crookshanks for me."

Harry set the letter down and wept. He did not cry. Crying was what children did when they were stung by a bee or when their feelings were hurt. Harry was weeping in a way that only a grown person can when faced with a reality they had only just accepted.

He did not know how long he sat there, tears rolling down his face, but eventually he simply finished, as if he ran out of tears which he could produce, and walked over to the door, wiping his face dry.

"You can come back in," Harry whispered, opening the door ever so slightly. The three shuffled back into the room, moving to their previous positions, as Harry walked back over to the read letter.

He grabbed the quill next to the stack of envelopes, and stared at the line beneath the letter for a moment. As the three watched him silently, he moved the quill over the paper, silently forming his name.

Harry James Potter

He felt satisfaction in seeing his name there in its fullness. He had never before signed with his middle name, but he felt it somehow appropriate at the moment, as if it's what Sirius would have wanted. Dumbledore offered a gentle smile that told Harry he still felt hurt at being sent out of the room.

"You can all read his will now... it doesn't matter if you do." Harry moved towards the stack of envelopes to gather them and was approached by the goblin. Harry stopped and looked at him as the goblin reached into a pocket and retrieved two key's.

"This," he said indicating the larger key, "is for your new vault. This," he paused, emphasizing the smaller key, "is for your new house." Harry was flabbergasted for a moment. His new house? He thought back to the letter. Sirius left him everything... that must have included Grimmauld as well. Harry somewhat bitterly took the two keys and pocketed them, then picked up the large stack of envelopes on the table.

Harry turned and looked at Dumbledore who was silently reading the letter, and as he watched two things happened; things that made much of Harry's anger towards the older man evaporate. First, Dumbledore began to ever so slightly tear. Second, Harry saw the twinkle in his eye return as he finished the letter.

Dumbledore looked up at Harry when he was finished with a very peculiar expression, as if he had something to say but didn't know what. Harry simply nodded and turned to Kingsley.

"Let's go," Harry intoned, walked out the door. Kingsley followed close behind and they made their way back to Harry's new house.

6. Letters

A/N: Hey, another chapter uploaded pretty quickly. I noticed that Portkey didn't update the date on my story when I put up chapter 5 so I belted out this chapter as fast as I could in other to get the story updated. :)

Hopefully I will be able to get through the next chapter without too much trouble. Just a few more things to take care of before they're off to school.

Chapter 6: Letters

Harry returned to find the house quiet. It almost felt as if the house was empty. Just as well, Harry thought to himself. I need to sort through these letters. Harry climbed the stairs softly, and on a sudden impulse headed into Sirius' room. It was dark, and felt neglected, though Harry knew it was just weeks since it had been occupied. He lit the room and walked over to the bed, setting the stack of envelopes down.

He picked them up and read their addresses one by one.

Harry: For when you finish reading my will

Hermione: For when you first see her

Hermione: For when she runs out of answers

Ron: For when you first see him

Ron: For when he learns how to hear himself

Petunia

Harry paused. Sirius wrote a letter to Petunia? How... strange.

Remus

Tonks

Arthur

Molly

Fred and George

Dumbledore

Snape

Harry: For when you feel all alone

Harry: For when you need comfort the most

Harry: For when you do not know where to go

Harry: For when you find true love

Harry felt tears welling in his eyes... the letters were so perfect. He felt a comfort knowing that Sirius had written down some of the things a Godfather needs to be there for. He felt just reading the envelopes that he was no longer alone, as if Sirius was not really gone.

Harry eyed his letters. When I don't know where to go? Harry wondered about the circumstance the letter was to be read under for a moment. When I find true love? Harry stopped. That letter might have been useful last year with Cho. But no, he shot down that notion. That hadn't been true love, Harry reasoned, so the information was not pertinent. He picked the letter up, wondering what the contents could possibly contain.

How will I know if I've found true love? Harry wondered fearfully for a second. How could he recognize something he'd never seen or felt before? That wasn't true, he told himself. He'd seen many people who truly loved another. But experiencing it... that was something foreign.

Harry set his letters together and put them in a pocket until he could store them, then gathered the rest and left the room to find Ron and Hermione. It didn't take long to find them as Ron was being rather vocal.

"...even McGonagall wouldn't!" he caught Ron exclaim. He heard Hermione begin to respond as he went through the door.

"McGonagall isn't here right now, is she?" They both turned to Harry and noticed the rather large stack of letters in his hands. "What's that Harry?" A look crossed her face as she suddenly remembered where he had come from. "Are you alright?" Harry waved his hand as if to dismiss the thought.

"I'm fine. Here," he said, pulling out two letters. "These are from Sirius." He handed one to each of them and they looked at the paper slightly bewildered. Slowly the two opened their letters and began to read them silently.

Harry eyed them, watching their expressions as their eyes traced over the paper's text. Ron seemed to be both sad and affronted at what he was reading, but Hermione was much more varied. Her expressions changed from sentence to sentence it seemed, going from sorrow to shock to indignant to fear. She finally settled on confusion, and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her face.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, and even though he hadn't been paying attention to Ron, he knew that Ron was not speaking to him. Ron folded his letter and put it in his pocket. Hermione held the letter to her chest for a few moments before standing.

"It you'll excuse me a moment," she told them, and walked out of the room.

"I wonder what it said," Ron noted curiously. Harry shrugged. Thinking back to the will, he thought he could understand why Hermione want to be alone for a few moments. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope he was supposed to read now.

"He left a few more for me," Harry told Ron. He looked up at the his red-headed friend. "Do you think I could have a minute to read it?" Ron promptly walked towards the door.

"And get away from my Transfiguration homework? You don't have to ask me twice!" Harry grinned as Ron left the room. Probably to get some food, he thought with a smile. He turned his attention back to the letter in his hand.

For when you finish reading my will

Harry ran his fingers over the words. It was Sirius' handwriting, there was no doubt about it. He slowly tore back the envelope and removed the letter. Right as he did Hermione walked back into the room, stopping when she saw Harry alone on the bed. She looked both startled and scared, like a deer caught in the headlights.

He paused for a moment, considering whether or not to send her away as well. But Harry motioned for her to sit.

"I suppose I could use a friend who doesn't have the emotional range of a teaspoon right now." He grinned as she sat down. "I just thought I could use someone here... you know..." Harry hoped she knew, because he didn't. He knew he needed someone else there while he read this letter, but he didn't know why it had to be her and not Ron. Ron, he reasoned, had left him several times. He was a very dear friend indeed, but Harry knew he could survive without Ron if he had to. Hermione...

Harry thought back to the Department of Mysteries, remembering how his mind and seemed to break when Hermione was hit by the mysterious purple flame. It had felt as if his mind was a machine that had simply stopped working. Don’t let her be dead, don’t let her be dead, it’s my fault if she’s dead...

The remembered thought raced through his mind and he with great effort forced himself to pay attention to the letter in front of him. Hermione, he noticed, sat patiently, apparently expecting him to read the letter to himself. And that was exactly what he did.

"Harry,

"The message contained is a bit more personal than the message in my will. If you are following my directions, the other four letters should still be unopened, and I sincerely hope that you are following my directions.

"First I would like to talk a bit about your parents. You have never got a good account of your parents I'm afraid, and that's as much due to cowardice as to the events that happened to you and your family. I cannot tell you the whole story, or rather the whole truth, myself. There are parts which can only be told by others, and I am confident that they will tell you these things when the time is right.

"James was an amazing man, Harry. I don't ever want you to doubt that. He could be a real git sometimes, but he never lost sight of what was important. He was a true Gryfindor Harry; he had a heart of gold.

"Your parents never saw eye-to-eye, especially when at school. James chased after Lily for years, though I am sure this is only because she was the only girl to ever rebuff his advances. She was something he couldn't have given to him, he had to earn her, and as he learned how to earn her respect and admiration, he fell in love with her. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life, Harry, and I am about as emotional as Ron."

Harry laughed to himself and Hermione looked at him quizzically. Harry shook his head. "I'll tell you in a minute." He continued.

"Lily was always an amazing person from the very first day we met her. James and me had been on the train to Hogwarts the first year, when this matter-of-fact girl with the greenest eyes we'd ever seen barged into the compartment and scolded us for the joke we'd played on good old Snape not long before.

"If James had a heart of solid gold, your mothers was made of diamond. She was impenetrable, unshakable, and cared for others in a manner which was jarring to a normal person. Being near her made you feel as if your life were that of someone who was only half a person, as if the only way a person could ever be whole was to be as caring as she was.

"And yet, this quality did not make you feel inferior, it only made you feel as if you could become so much more. That's really what Lily was. She was so much more than any of us. None of us deserved her, and your father was very lucky.

"When your parents announced that they would be having you, I saw them happier than I think they had ever been. Lily was glowing more than I think I'd ever seen a person glow, and James was puffed up so big I thought he might burst.

"They were so amazed by you that they seemed to grow in a way I suppose only becoming a parent can do to you. To tell the truth, I was always kind of jealous of them for that. Not because they had each other... I was happy for that. But that they had what they had together... I cannot explain in words how much I wanted that for myself.

"Being your Godfather was a very small part of that thing that they had, a part they shared with me. I never had a happier moment in my life than when James asked me to be your Godfather.

"All this is to say that your parents loved you, and each other, very much. You cannot imagine how different life might have been. I say this not to make you feel sad about the way things are, but to make you appreciate the way things are. This is the way your parents wanted it, Harry. They wanted the best they could give you, and this life that you have is the best they could give you."

Harry stopped reading for a moment and looked back up at Hermione. He needed to collect his thoughts before he continued.

"What is it?" she asked him softly.

"Stuff about my parents," Harry muttered. He paused for a moment. "I've never really missed them, or at least not the way I miss Sirius. I never..." Harry sniffed. He could feel tears building. "I never got to know them. It's hard for me to really miss them." Hermione looked at Harry with a compassion that was comforting. "Does that make me a horrible person?" Harry asked softly. "Does that make their love worth less than it would be?"

Hermione stood quickly and walked over to Harry. She kneeled down right in front of him, taking his hands into hers. When Harry looked up he saw a small hint of tears in her sad expression.

"No, Harry, no it doesn't." She didn't say anything else, perhaps because nothing else could be said. She gave his hands a squeeze then walked back over to the opposite bed, returning to her sitting position. Harry wiped his eyes then continued with the letter.

"Now I'd also like to talk a bit about Ron. Yes, yes, I'm sure that you think there's not much to talk about. But that is simply your youth showing. There are plenty of things that you need a parent to talk to you about with Ron, and I intend to give you some of it.

"Ron is far more sensitive than you give him credit for. He doesn't know how to express it, and he has been taught by all of his older brothers that it is a bad thing, but he is a sensitive soul Harry, and he needs you to anchor that part of him.

"This is not supposed to be all mushy and such, but this is the only chance I have to say what needs to be said. If I don't say it now, I will never get another chance to say 'oops, I guess I should have said something'. Ron is lost, and he needs you as much as you need him... maybe more.

"Ron will always be there for you, even if he doesn't show it, because he needs you in order to hold on to that part of himself. If you and him ever truly part ways in anger he will be cutting off a part of himself, and though you may heal over time, he will not.

"You need to be the bigger person whenever you can Harry. Ron will get older and wiser, but only in time. I don't mean this in a demeaning way, you are just as immature as he is, though in different ways. (I don't mean that in a demeaning way either...)

"Don't for a minute think you can go back and change the place you're in. Ron needs you to be stronger than that, and he will help you in ways you will probably never appreciate."

Harry looked around the room again, guilty that he had sent Ron out of the room. Especially with Hermione there staring at him intently. He turned back to the letter.

"Hermione is another subject. Harry, I don't know her very well... even less so than Ron due to the fact that I spent plenty of time with Ron's parents. There are several things that scream to be said though, and I sometimes wonder how you could possibly not notice them. Things that anyone with half a sense can see from the sidelines.

"She is the most valuable person you will have at your side Harry. She is both mature and intelligent, caring and compassionate, and from what I've seen she has never abandoned you. I will never forget when you locked yourself in with Buckbeak. I was thick, or maybe I was just scared of the responsibility of being the parent figure, or even the friend.

"Me, Ron and Ginny were all puzzled over what to do. We'd all tried to coax you out, but you'd refused and rebuffed all of us. I thought perhaps it was something we should just let you work through. I used to do that with James... I didn't know how to help so I avoided getting involved because I was afraid of failing at being a friend. I was just as afraid of failing at being a mentor.

"When Hermione arrived she was furious that no one was with you, trying to help you. I'll never forget her words: 'What is the use of having friends if none of them are willing to be good friends?' She stormed off and we all felt terribly bad, particularly when she came back with you in tow.

"From what I can see she is your crutch. The thing that gives you constant support and strength, and you can never lose that Harry. I mentioned before how Ron would cut off a part of himself if he happened to forsake you. Forsaking Hermione would be just as drastic for you, Harry."

He stopped reading for a moment and looked at Hermione in a calculating manner. She looked at him as if to ask what was wrong. He shook his head and returned to the letter.

"The worst part is that I think her comment could be aimed at you as much as it was aimed at us. When was the last time you really thanked Hermione for her support? How many times has she been there when no one else has? And what have you said to her in return.

"I ask you the same question she asked me, Harry: 'What is the use of having friends if none of them are willing to be good friends?' You need to be a good friend to her Harry. She has been pushing along on her own steam for the most part, and she can only keep that up for so long.

"Even if it's just a quick conversation where you tell her how much her support means to you, you need to do it. Hermione is a mystery... most women are, let me tell you. But this particular bit is not mysterious, you simply do not see it.

"Thank her while you can, because if you do not, eventually she will simply fade away, and it will tear that part of you off your soul. A true friend of the soul can never lose another.

"Please understand, I hold the three of you in the highest regard. You three are so much more than Me, James, Lily and Remus were. I simply want you to learn from our mistakes. That's what a mentor does, right?

"Your parents are still with you, in more ways than you know. You will find them in the most unlikely places Harry, and sometimes, when you wave, they will wave back. I will always be there, watching you, Ron and Hermione. The three of you are my hope for the world. First, save the world. But after, please teach it to love the way the three of you care for one another.

"Padfoot

"PS: I know you still haven't done it, but I would really appreciate it if you said hello to Crookshanks for me.

"PPS: I have enclosed a copy of my executed will in this envelope for you to keep."

Harry set the letter on the bed and looked at Hermione. She seemed apprehensive. Harry was overcome with a sudden surge of appreciation, and stood, taking the few steps to where Hermione sat. She stood slowly, a questioning look on her face.

He broke into a huge smile and pulled her into a hug. Harry and Ron had both received many hugs from Hermione. Hugs of encouragement, comfort and solidarity. But Harry realized with a bit of guilt that neither he nor Ron had ever actually hugged Hermione first.

"Thank you," he said softly next to her ear. She seemed to relax and gave him a hug in return. Harry felt a warmth spreading over his body and a feeling of accomplishment in his stomach. Doing things to make others happy, Harry concluded, made one feel very nice themselves.

When Harry let go he had a big grin on his face. Hermione for her part looked both thankful and startled, as if she didn't know what had just happened but was happy for it all the same.

"I need to talk to you later," Harry told her. He reached over to the stack of letters placed on the dresser and grabbed the second letter for her from Sirius. "This is also from Sirius. You are not supposed to open it until you run out of answers, whatever you take that to mean."

Hermione only nodded. It seemed that she was at a loss for words. Harry was about to comment when Ron appeared in the doorway.

"What's going on?" Ron asked in a slightly amused tone. Harry turned and looked at Ron with his big grin. Harry walked over to him and gave him a brief but firm hug.

When he pulled away Ron looked fearful and confused.

"Thanks you two... I don't know what I'd do without you." Hermione looked as if she might shed a few more tears, and Ron looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Don't worry about it," he said looking down. "Just remember that later when I need a favor." Harry laughed and clapped Ron on the back.

"Want to go play a game of chess?" Harry offered. Ron's face lit up and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Sure," he said starting out the doorway with Harry next to him. Harry turned around just as they were leaving to see Hermione still standing there.

"Are you coming?" he asked her. Her face exploded into a teary smile. She walked over and hugged her two boys.

"We're going to do this together, aren't we?" Harry looked at Ron, then back at Hermione.

"How else would we do it?" They all three laughed and continued to the sitting room where Ron and Harry set up a friendly game of wizards chess. Hermione sat in the chair next to their game, reading from a book while glancing up to check the game of chess every now and then. Ron proceeded to beat Harry in record time. Ron beat him so quickly that they decided to play a second game. While they were setting up however, Mr. Weasley came up the stairs with a set of envelopes in his hand and Ginny behind him.

"School letters," Ginny said excitedly. Hermione looked as if she were overcome with a sudden wave of fear. "They should have your O.W.L. scores," Ginny said. Mr. Weasley handed each other them their letters.

Harry was a bit apprehensive about opening his letter, but as he glanced sideways he realized that both Ron and Hermione seemed to be in greater distress. He smiled.

"How about we all open each other's letters," Harry offered, handing his letter to Hermione. She took the letter from him and he grabbed Ron's letter.

Ronald Weasley

Astronomy

A

Care of Magical Creatures

E

Charms

A

Defense Against the Dark Arts

E

Divination

P

Herbology

P

History of Magic

D

Potions

E

Transfiguration

E

Harry looked back up at Ron who had a shocked expression on his face.

"Blimey Hermione." Her head jerked up in apprehension. She bit her lower lip.

"That bad?" she asked him slowly.

"Bad," Ron exclaimed incredulously, "you got better scores than Percy did!" Hermione lit up with an enormous smile. She turned to Harry.

"You did very well also Harry. The only classes you didn't get an O.W.L. in were Divination and History of Magic, but we all know Divination is rubbish." Harry stared at her. He could not believe she was telling him he did a good job when he failed History of Magic. Although, he reasoned, he had had an 'episode' in the middle of the exam... Harry turned to Ron.

"Not too bad yourself," Harry said. "Everything 'cept Divination, Herbology and History of Magic." Hermione fixed Ron with a piercing stare.

"You failed Herbology?" she asked measuredly. Ron looked at her exasperated.

"How am I supposed to know what to do with plants?" Hermione was about to retort, but Harry cut her off, looking at the materials list that had come with the scores.

"Hermione, what score did I get in potions?" Hermione glanced down at the sheet.

"An Outstanding, Harry," she beamed. Harry nodded.

"That's probably why I have the potions book on my list." Harry laughed darkly. "Snape will be disappointed." Ron quickly looked at his book list, then back at Harry.

"What score did I get?" he asked tepidly.

"An Exceeds Expectations," Harry replied. Ron deflated at the answer.

"I must not have got into Snape's class. I guess I won't be taking N.E.W.T. potions with you two." Ron stopped for a moment, then suddenly brightened as if Christmas came early. "Wait a tic, I won't be in N.E.W.T. potions!" He turned back to Harry. "Bad luck mate."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Hermione scoffed. "Harry got his score by being good at potion making." Harry smiled at the two.

"So would you three be up for visiting Diagon Alley tomorrow?" Mr. Weasley asked. Harry nodded.

"Tomorrow sounds excellent." Mr. Weasley left the room and headed back down the stairs, but Ginny stayed behind and looked over Hermione's scores with her while Ron and Harry played another game of chess.

The day wound down lazily, and Harry slept soundly that night, his thoughts on the letters Sirius had left him.

The morning found Harry in a good mood and well rested. After a quick breakfast, the Weasley's, Hermione and Harry took the Floo to Diagon Alley, making a bee line for the bank.

"So what do we need this year?" Ron asked, looking his list over as they walked down the path towards Gringott's.

"Well," Hermione replied, "we'll need new books, as well as potions supplies and common school supplies." Hermione looked over the list in her hand. "Nothing else here... maybe some new robes?"

Harry nodded in agreement, walking into the bank. Hermione walked up to one of the goblins and exchanged some pounds. Ron walked over to his family who was getting ready to ride down to their vault, and Harry moved to one of the free goblins.

"I'd like to withdraw," he said. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the vault key he'd received from Sirius. The goblin grabbed the key and looked it over for a moment.

"This way," he motioned. Harry followed and after a brief but somewhat dizzy ride in a kart, Harry stood before a vault that appeared much larger than his own. The goblin opened it and stepped aside, letting Harry in.

The vault contained a vast amount of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts, far more than Harry knew to be in his parent's vault. There were also various items which appeared valuable strung throughout the vault. Harry walked over to a stack of money and got himself enough to pay for his supplies before slowly exiting the room. He looked back one last time before the door closed, and before long had returned to the surface where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.

"C'mon then," Ron said impatiently. "Let's go!" The three of them set out to pick up supplies, stopping at the apothecary as well as to get some new parchment and quills. Ron did not seem to need anything, and Harry assumed that Mrs. Weasley was taking care of the things he needed.

The trio had just entered Flourish & Blott's to get their new books, when a voice rang out from one of the aisles.

"Hermione!" it called. The three turned to see who was heralding and saw a middle aged man and middle aged woman whom they did not know. Or rather, whom Ron and Harry did not know.

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione ran to them and gave them a hug. "You made it! I was worried that we wouldn't see you here."

"Nothing could keep us from making it to see you," her father said smiling. The pair turned to Ron and Harry.

"So, from the descriptions my daughter has given me before," he pointed at Ron, "you must be Ron. Making you Harry." They both smiled.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Granger." Harry shook the mans hand firmly.

"No, the pleasure's all mine. My daughter has told me quite a great deal about both of you." A light tinge of pink crossed Hermione's face as both Harry and Ron looked at her questioningly.

"Well I hope she was kind," Ron said tentatively. Mr. and Mrs. Granger both smiled.

"Not much to say then, is there," a voice drawled from the door. They all turned to see a blond-haired boy smirking at them.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron seethed. "No one cares what you have to say." Malfoy walked over to them, his smirk growing bigger.

"I see the Mudblood brought her parents along." Harry grabbed Malfoy by the shirt, getting his attention.

"Watch your mouth, ferret boy," Harry flared. "Daddy isn't here to save you this time." Draco's eyes narrowed. Harry laughed coldly. "How's your father enjoying his little, er, vacation?" Draco pushed Harry's hands away and stormed out of the shop without saying another word.

"What was that all about?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Oh, just a boy we know from school," Hermione told them. "Nothing really, just likes to make trouble."

"How can you say that?" Ron asked her, almost livid. "He's the worst kind of scum." Ron nodded as if agreeing with his statement.

Harry couldn't help but agree with Ron, however he remained silent. They spent the rest of the time getting their books talking. Hermione's parents asked questions about many of the things they saw, and Ron and Hermione were all too happy to oblige. Ron even asked them a few questions about Muggle life in return, which Hermione let her parents answer, happy that they were able to explain something for once.

Their supplies collected, the trio found the rest of the Weasley family around Diagon Alley, and before too long they had returned to Grimmauld, ready to start the new term. Unfortunately for Ron, getting all of his new school supplies made the coming term seem a great deal closer, and as they went to bed that night, Mrs. Weasley informed her son that there would be no excuses for putting off his homework any longer. Harry felt quite accomplished at that moment knowing that he had the entire rest of summer to himself.

7. Small Revelations

A/N: Well, here's chapter 7. They should be returning to Hogwarts next chapter. Please give me some feedback. I haven't got much feedback on the new stuff I've written.

Also, I'm still looking for a beta.

Note: I changed this chapter's title to match my original intent. Sorry 'bout that.

Chapter 7: Small Revelations

Harry awoke the next morning rather lazily, and knowing that he had no reason to get out of bed, he decided to simply go back to sleep. Ron however did not appear to be as fortunate. When Harry finally did get out of his bed near noon, he promptly noticed that Ron was not in the bed next to his. Recalling Mrs. Weasley's threat, Harry could only assume that Ron was busy doing the homework he'd been putting off.

Harry passed Ron at the dining room table, books laid out in front of him, while on his way to the kitchen for some breakfast. Harry came back with a banana and sat down next to Ron.

"Wha'ch wok'in' on?" Harry said with a full mouth, drawing a sigh from the doorway where Hermione had just entered the room.

"Charms essay," Ron said absently. Hermione looked at Harry and he soon realized that he hadn't changed out of his pajamas or brushed his teeth before coming down. She wrinkled her nose.

"Honestly, Harry. Just because you finished your homework doesn't mean you should be sleeping in until the afternoon. You're just having breakfast, think of all the other things you could have been doing instead of sleeping!" Ron put down his quill and looked over at Harry who was still chewing on his last bite, fearful of responding to Hermione with a full mouth.

"Blimey, she's scolding you about being done with homework!" Ron finished his sentence with a hint if indignation, as if Hermione were not there. She looked at him sourly.

"I'm not scolding Harry!" she retorted. "I was simply saying that there are plenty of other, more productive things that Harry could be doing besides getting extra sleep he doesn't need." Harry turned to her, swallowing the last of his breakfast.

"Did you have something in mind?" Harry knew that was the wrong thing to ask as soon as her eyes lit up.

"As a matter of fact I do," she said excitedly, shuffling over to where he was and pulling him out of his seat. "I had some new ideas about S.P.E.W. that I think will provide some significant results!" Harry, while not as aversive to Hermione's passion for S.P.E.W. as Ron, certainly could think of other things he'd rather do. But as soon as the thoughts came to him, a voice nearly like Sirius' entered his mind, and he remembered the letter he'd read last night.

Maybe sometimes it needs to be about what she wants instead of what the boys want, the voice explained to him. He still needed to properly thank her like Sirius had asked, so Harry decided it would be best to help her, and smiling nodded his approval.

"I suppose I could spend some time on that," he said carefully. Hermione beamed at him and Ron rolled his eyes, turning back to the foot long piece of parchment in front of him.

Harry went to his room and changed out of his pajams, then followed Hermione into the sitting room that they usually played chess in and Hermione motioned for him to sit down next to the fireplace.

"So what's this new idea?" Harry asked, getting comfortable in his chair. Hermione looked extremely pleased with herself.

"Kreacher gave me the idea." Harry stared blankly, and Hermione realized that Harry might not be amenable to hearing about Kreacher's ideas. She paused, but Harry simply nodded stiffly. "Well you see," she continued, smiling again, "Kreacher is a really wretched little elf, even if the way he's imprisoned is wrong. But he did something that I hadn't noticed another elf do." She paused, smiling at her own thoughts. "Kreacher tried to find ways to do things for people other than his proper master. Think about it, Dobby did the same thing with you second year."

The wheels in Harry's head began turning. She was right, it seemed that for all of their magical binding and self-inflicted punishments, house elves were able to do things that they wanted for other people. The thing that Harry didn't get is how this helped Hermione's cause at all. In fact, Harry thought that it put a slight damper on the "free the elves from oppression" talk. Hermione however had a look on her face like the cat that ate the canary, so Harry simply waited for her to continue.

"Don't you see Harry, elves already understand what I've been trying to teach them!" Harry looked at her confused. "I've just been explaining it to them wrong. Think about it like this Harry, Dobby was the Malfoy's elf, right?" Harry nodded, following so far. "They mistreated him and were rather nasty to him, right? Well Malfoy talked about the things that you did at school, and though I'm sure he put a spin on things, Dobby heard about you and understood that you were a great person – a great wizard Harry." She paused as if to ponder the compliment for a moment and Harry just nodded. "Dobby understood right from wrong, and he also understood kindness from cruelty. He sought you out of kindness."

Hermione paused again. What she had been saying was all very interesting, Harry agreed. He just still couldn't see how it helped at all.

"Harry, the house elves pledge their professional loyalty to their family, but their personal loyalty, that lies with those who are kind to them! Think of Sirius," she said slowly. Harry tried not to and simply let her continue. "Sirius... I'm not saying anything is his fault, Harry." She took a breath. "Sirius wasn't very kind to Kreacher, but for all their faults I'm sure that Narcissa and Bellatrix accepted Kreacher with open arms because of what he could do for them. Their motivations may not have been pure, but they were kind, and Kreacher gave them his loyalty for it."

Harry didn't quite know how to respond to that. A part of him was furious that Hermione would suggest everything might have been alright if only Sirius had been kinder, but another part of him, the part that, ironically, usually spoke in Hermione's voice told him that she was right. Harry simply nodded again.

"That's the key Harry... honest kindness. I think the elves can handle being treated as equals by those who are kind to them. Or, they could learn to anyway." Harry just stared.

"What are you planning?" he finally asked.

"Well," Hermione started. She bit her lip and she decided how to phrase what she was going to say. "I think we need to make a real effort to be kind to elves first, then treat them as equals. If we can show house elves that they already have divided loyalties, and that being free simply allows their true loyalties to be their only loyalties..." she trailed off staring at a point past Harry. "We just might get through to them."

Harry finally began to understand. The plan seemed simple enough, and to be honest, it was a lot less pushy than any of Hermione's previous endeavors, which made Harry feel that it just might work. Harry had never really felt inspired by Hermione's speeches on elf rights, but this time he felt... hope, almost. As if this were suddenly something worth fighting for. As if the house elves really were trapped by their own minds.

"So how do we start?" Harry asked more enthusiastically than he had before.

"Well, that's the thing Harry." She looked at him intently. "I think we need to start by being nice to Kreacher. You received the house in the will, so Kreacher belongs to you. We need to start with him." A dark look crossed Harry's face, as if to say 'anyone but him'.

"Harry, you need to let it go," Hermione told him sternly. "Kreacher is what people have made him. You can't blame him for following the only people that have ever been kind to him." Harry looked at her in disbelief, a look that clearly replied 'I can blame him if I bloody well feel like it'. Hermione let out a small sigh.

"Harry, please, listen to what I'm saying." She looked up at him with a face that made Harry feel very guilty. He kicked himself mentally. He'd been intending to come up here and thank her for always standing by him, and here he was refusing to stand by her because of... vengeance. Sirius wouldn't have wanted that, even if Sirius had hated the elf, as Harry was now admitting. He looked down at his hands for a moment, contemplating her proposal.

"Well," he told her looking back up. "I can't make any promises. But..." he trailed off, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to do. "But I will do my best to not let you down," he finally said. "I... can't quite forgive Kreacher yet, but I will do my best to treat him with... kindness," he concluded. Hermione broke into a great big smile and gave him another warm hug. Harry again felt that doing nice things for others was quite rewarding, and hugged her back.

"I had something I wanted to talk about as well," Harry said, pulling away. He looked towards the door uneasily. For some reason Harry felt like this conversation needed to be private. A small talk between him, Hermione and Sirius. He went over silently and closed the door to the room, facing her with a serious look on his face. Hermione began to get worried.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him. He shook his head.

"I..." He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "I don't quite know how to start this." He paused for a moment. Best start with the point, Harry reasoned. "In my letter from Sirius, the one you saw me read, he asked me to do something. Something that I should have done before, but never have." Harry laughed. "He practically told me I was an insensitive git," Harry said chuckling. His face returned to its serious expression.

"You've always been with me," Harry explained, his opening phrase softening her worried expression. He chuckled again, this time for a different reason. "I actually can't figure out why, but you've never left me, even when you knew I was wrong, like at the Department of Mysteries, or when I locked myself in with Buckbeak." He stopped to measure her reaction, but she remained unchanged so he continued.

"I don't... I can't imagine how long ago I would have stumbled if you had given up on me," Harry told her. "Ron has... given up a few times before, but even then, you were with me through it. Sirius helped me realize that I have never once appreciated the support you've given me." Harry stopped. He felt that he was starting to sound rather silly, but she still wasn't laughing at him, so he kept going. "I... I don't know what I would do without you there to tell me I'm wrong, or tell me what's right, Hermione. I'd probably be dead right now." He dismissed the notion as though it were simply an afterthought.

"I just wanted to thank you, for always being a true friend to me," Harry told her. "I... I want to try and be a true friend for you and Ron as well, and the things Sirius said... they made me realize that I have been letting you two down in that regard. I've been letting both of you be friends to me, without being a friend back." Harry smiled. He was looking at his hands now. "What's the use in having friends if none of them are willing to be good friends, eh?"

Harry looked up and was startled to see her crying softly, a few tears streaking down her smiling face. Harry immediately began to worry that he'd said something wrong and fumbled an apology. "Sorry," he muttered, looking down again. Harry was quite unprepared for what happened next.

He was almost immediately overcome by a pair of arms that pushed him back into his seat, her hair clouding some of his vision as her face planted itself in his shirt, making it become damp. She tightened her arms around him, and laughed in a queer sort of way, or so Harry thought, as a few more tears ran down her cheeks to his shirt.

"Thank you, Harry," she said. "You don't know how much this means to me." She pulled back and stood up, brushing herself off and wiping her face, smiling the whole time. "You shouldn't apologize. You may have never said it, but I always knew that you appreciated the things I did." She looked at him with a smile that was infectious. Harry laughed at the look on her face, feeling much better about himself.

Yes, he concluded once more. Doing nice things for others is very pleasurable indeed. He made a mental note to try being nicer to Ron and Hermione when he was in a bad mood, since he figured that was the time he could benefit the most from feeling nice.

One thing bothered him though. He hadn't realized it until he started, but he really didn't understand why Hermione had always stuck with him. He always just chalked it up to being a Hermione thing to do, but what exactly that thing was he couldn't quite put together.

The Ron thing to do, he thought, was to vent. Not for Ron to vent on Harry, although that certainly did happen, but to help Harry vent away pent up emotional stress. Both were very important to him, he decided, and though Sirius may not have told him to directly, Harry felt that an important part of keeping Ron 'anchored' would be to have a similar talk with him later.

He smiled. Ron helped him release, Hermione helped him understand. They really were the best friends he could ask for.

"Oh," Harry started, suddenly recalling something from the letter. "I meant to ask, is Crookshanks around?" Hermione looked at him confused for a moment. "Sirius asked me twice in his letters to say hello to Crookshanks for him." He smiled wider and Hermione began to form one at the fond mention of the Marauder. "I think Sirius rather liked Crookshanks after talking with him as a dog third year," Harry continued. "Remember how he commented on Crookshanks being such a smart cat?"

"Yes, I was telling Ron all year long that Crookshanks was perfectly alright." She nodded as if to vindicate her statement. "Course I don't think any of us were expecting why Crookshanks despised Scabbers so much..." She trailed off.

"But yes," she continued. "Crookshanks has been keeping to my room mostly, but I can go get him if you would like." Harry smiled. He wasn't sure why, but the fact that Sirius had been so adamant to him about such a frivolous thing comforted Harry a great deal.

"I would like that very much, thanks."

Hermione made her way over to the door and let out a small yelp when she opened it. There was Ron looking as if he was just about to knock.

"Why was the door closed?" Ron asked oddly. Harry didn't like his tone very much, though he reasoned with himself he had no reason to dislike his tone.

"We were just talking about S.P.E.W.," Harry told him. Hermione seemed to snap out of her momentary surprise and walked past Ron, further up the stairs.

"Where's she in such a hurry to?" Ron inquired. Harry smiled again thinking of what she was doing.

"She's getting Crookshanks," Harry told Ron. Ron looked thoroughly nonplussed, as if he couldn't possibly understand why Harry would find that something to smile about. "Sirius asked me to say hello to Crookshanks for him," Harry explained. Ron seemed to accept that answer, though it didn't seem to change his opinion of the cat in question.

Hermione returned moments later with Crookshanks in her hands, looking very satisfied with himself indeed. She sat down in the chair she had been sitting in the day before with her book, and Harry looked down at Crookshanks who seemed to be purring from the attention. Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to a cat, so he figured exactly what he'd been asked would suffice.

"Sirius says hi," Harry said, looking at the half-Kneezle. "He's... gone now, and he wanted me to tell you hello and goodbye for him." Crookshanks turned and looked directly at Harry, right into his eyes. Harry could swear the cat was trying to say something back.

Harry scratched behind his ears, feeling the fur between his fingers, and thought back to the letter Sirius had written. Sirius had written about Harry's parents a bit, but nothing specific. What Harry really wanted was some of the stories about his parents, things that actually happened. Real memories. He remembered Sirius talking about watching James fall in love being the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he could almost see the Gryffindor common room in his head, Sirius and James talking to each other at a table while Remus did homework nearby and Peter read from his potions book.

Harry could imagine James turning to Sirius with a very, well, serious, look on his face.

"I think I have a problem, Padfoot," his father would say. Sirius would put down his quill and turn to James, huddling a little bit closer so that they could drop their voices. "I can't get Evans out of my head. I don't know what it is. I have all these girls chasing after me, many of them ravishingly beautiful, but my mind is always on Evans and how she doesn't like me... how she thinks I'm just a slimy git."

Sirius would smile at his father's worried expression and pick his quill back up.

"Did you ever consider that maybe you actually fancy her?" James would look scandalized at the very suggestion.

"Fancy her!?" James would say far too loud, drawing a few stares from around the common room. He would quickly drop his voice again, acting indignant. "I don't fancy girls! I mean, I fancy girls," James would say, realizing the implication of his first statement, "but not like that. Too much trouble actually fancying one of them."

"Perhaps," Sirius would say. "Why do you try to impress her?"

"Well," James would pause to gather his thoughts, "because she isn't impressed! I mean, all of the other girls in the school seem to be, why isn't she? What makes her so special?"

"Indeed," Sirius would respond. "What makes her so special? Why do you care so much?"

"Well... I just..." James would sputter. "Look here, Padfoot, that's not the point. I just want her to see me as worthy." Sirius would set his quill back down and turn to face James again.

"Worthy of what?" James would stop again, apparently in deep thought.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe I want her to think that I'm worthy of her... like she's not any better than I am." Sirius would look at James with a somewhat serious expression.

"Do you honestly think that Evans is no better than you?" Sirius would ask him. "Think about it. Sure, everyone around the school seems to like you, but she seems to like everyone around the school. Which matters more, Prongs?" James would remain silent, knowing he was beaten. "Evans is better than us. That's why I get such a kick out of seeing her prove it." Sirius would stop for a moment. "Maybe that's something that's good, you know. Knowing that there's someone out there who's better than you."

"Maybe..." he would look around the common room. "Maybe I do fancy Evans. What should I do about it?" Sirius would chuckle, picking up his quill again.

"Well, I would suggest you stop being 'a slimy git'." The picture in Harry's head faded as he felt Hermione shaking him gently.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Harry looked up at her and Ron, seeing a worried expression on their faces. "You weren't responding for a moment there."

"Yeah," Harry said smiling. "I was just thinking about my parents." Ron and Hermione looked at each other. This was something that had actually never come up between them before.

"Er, what about them?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Oh, just imagining how they got together." Harry chuckled. "Everyone's told me that my mum didn't especially like my father for most of their time at school, but that's not the truth. I think she just wanted to help him be a better person." Harry sat back on the floor. "I mean, from what I've heard, they didn't really fight, my mum just thought my dad was a bit full of himself." Harry laughed lightly. "Actually from what I've seen, that was probably true."

Hermione and Ron just listened intently. Harry had never really discussed his parents or how he felt about them with either of his two friends, and they didn't exactly know if they were supposed to say anything or not. Harry looked at them with a comforting grin.

"I think I understand them better lately. Their life and such." Harry glanced between his two friends. He felt genuinely better, as if a great burden were finally lifted off his shoulders. A burden of many things. Sirius, his parents, Cedric... he still felt for all of them, and he still felt very bad that they could not be there right then, especially Sirius. But he realized as he stood again that the hurt was dull and forgettable almost, like a wound that had scabbed over. He thought, like any wound, it could be ripped back open and hurt anew, but that he would be might able to move forward finally.

He also realized that this must be what Ron and Hermione were being so cautious about. They were not aware of the small transformation that Harry had undergone in the last few days. He had been worried that Sirius' will would hurt like nothing before had. That it would make Sirius' death real for him in a way that nothing else could.

Well, he had been right, he reasoned. It did make Sirius' death real for him like nothing else had, but he realized that he had to make it more real if he had ever wanted to get past it. He also realized that this was what Hermione and Ron had probably been so worried about since the beginning of the summer. Harry found himself thinking once again, I really do have the best friends.

Harry smiled at his pair.

"I think I'm ready to move on," he said plainly. "I think Sirius would have wanted that." Hermione beamed at him with obvious approval, and Ron grinned at him cautiously. He reached out and pulled his two friends into what he imagined must be the twelfth hug in the past two days.

As Hermione said something about how proud of him she was, Harry thought to himself that he still felt held back. I don't know if I can move forward, Harry told himself. But now I'm at least going to try.

8. Conversations

A/N: Well, this is certainly a surprise. I finished this much faster than I had originally thought I would. It's also MUCH longer than I thought it would be... I even considered moving the Cho scene off the train to make it shorter, but decided against it.

This chapter is my single most favorite piece of writing I've ever created to date. I really hope you enjoy it.

Unfortunately, my beta, ro10tom8oes, had to leave town right as I completed it, so this chapter was beta'd by me and my sister.

As always, feedback would be appreciated. I'm really starting to get into the groove of this story, and after this chapter there's finally enough mystery for people to speculate if they wish.

I look forward to reading your theories on what's going on, though I'm fairly certain no one will get it exactly right.

Chapter 8: Conversations

Harry saw a dark room with a small fire in the corner. A snake came into Harry's vision, slithering out towards the door which was ajar.

"Yes," Harry found himself saying raspingly. "Thank you Nagini." Harry turned to the left and saw the familiar face attached to a familiar hand.

"He should be here momentarily, my Lord," Wormtail sputtered out.

"You had better hope so," Harry replied. "I cannot tolerate any more wasted time. If I am to succeed in my plans, the prophecy must be revealed. I'm sure that the boy knows it by now." Harry turned back towards the door. "The old fool could never keep the secrets that were most important close to his chest, isn't that right?"

"Y–Yes, of course not," Wormtail said nervously. Harry laughed softly as he saw a cloaked man walk into the room cautiously.

"Ah, I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind," Harry told the cloaked figure.

"I would never dream of it," the cloaked figure replied. Harry let out a hoarse, cold laugh.

"Come now, I have fewer servants that would not betray me given the opportunity than I have fingers on one hand," Harry felt his face stretch into a painful smile, as if the muscles had nearly never moved in this way.

"You have found everything as I said, I trust?"

"Indeed," the cloaked figure replied. "It was not easy meeting on such short notice however." Harry smirked.

"Are you prepared for it?" The cloaked figure made a motion like it was nodding underneath the cloth.

"I am, my Lord," the voice called back. "I will deliver Potter to you." Harry felt himself let out another raspy laugh and his vision began to change. For a moment he thought he might have woken up, but what he saw appeared to now be the same scene from the view of the cloaked figure.

Harry felt his eyes burn as they settled on the horrifying visage of Voldemort, laughing almost mockingly. Voldemort's laughter died, and as it did, he looked back at the cloaked figure, and Harry looked into his eyes, directly into his cold, red eyes. Harry woke up screaming, clutching his scar like he had so many times before.

He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. He checked the clock; it was barely past three in the morning... Harry rubbed his eyes. They still felt like they burned from the dream, not to mention how his scar was throbbing. The pain in both quickly faded though and Harry simply lied there for a while going over the dream in his head.

It was just like the other visions he'd had before, except for the fact that he saw things from the cloaked figure's point of view for a few moments. That had never happened before, Harry thought. He'd seen things from Nagini's eyes and Voldemort's eyes, but never from someone else. He'd seen other people, never never seen other people's vision.

Perhaps Voldemort was possessing the figure, Harry reasoned silently. But that wouldn't make sense either, Harry thought. Voldemort had been talking to the figure. Why would he talk with a man he was possessing? It didn't seem to make much sense. Harry looked back at the clock. He'd already been lying there for ten minutes. Harry sighed and drew himself out of bed.

There was no use in trying to go back to sleep, the vision was too fresh in his mind. He'd have to wait until he could talk to Ron and Hermione about it. Harry walked down the stairs rubbing his eyes. Today was September 1st, he realized; they were heading to Platform 9 ¾ later that day, and then back to Hogwarts.

Harry laughed at the thought of the train ride. Getting to Hogwarts had always been its own adeventure he thought almost wistfully. Ron would be finishing up his homework on the way there, Harry thought to himself, which would probably put Hermione in a bad mood since she'd have to take care of prefect duties by herself.

The holiday had been rather varied, Harry thought to himself. The last few weeks had by far been the best part of it though. He'd simply relaxed around the house, doing things like playing games of Exploding Snap. He'd even begun to read through the book Hermione had given him for his birthday, forming pictures in his head about how he might use them in a D.A. meeting.

Harry didn't think he'd actually hold any more D.A. meetings, but the experience hadn't been a bad one, he noted. It made him consider that teaching wouldn't be quite that bad either, although Harry wasn't quite ready to give up on being an Auror. The idea of actually being out there, being active, instead of trapped inside a castle was still far too appealing to him.

Harry was drawn from his thoughts as he entered the dining room and saw Mr. Weasley sitting there with a glass of an amber looking drink. Mr Weasley turned and greeted him with a warm smile.

"Bit early to be getting up for the train, Harry," he said calmly. "What brings you to the dining room so early in the morning?"

"I had a dream," Harry told him, shifting uncomfortably. "Couldn't get back to sleep."

"Ah, yes, well that will happen," he replied, turning back to his glass. Harry paused for a minute before deciding to inquire.

"Is anything wrong, Mr. Weasley?" Harry saw the man shift a bit before he responded.

"Nothing in particular Harry," he reassured him. "Please, call me Arthur. We've known each other for long enough." Harry nodded as he took a seat opposite the man. "It's just everything together Harry. Don't worry," he added with a grin, motioning to the glass. "I'm not drowning my worries away, just couldn't sleep and thought a bit of warmth would send me off." Arthur sighed. "I fear I'm probably in the same boat as you are though. No more sleep for the night."

Harry nodded in reply. He wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed like there was something the man wanted to talk about.

"So, what's on your mind Mr. We – Arthur." Harry forced himself to use Mr. Weasley's first name.

"Oh, this and that," Arthur replied. "Not the sort of things that a teenager should really be worried about, you know?" Harry nodded his head even though he wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. Arthur took another sip and looked back up at Harry.

"You and Ron... you guys don't go looking for trouble... do you?" Arthur looked at him with a meaningful expression. It was a serious question, Harry realized.

"Well, not exactly," Harry said. "Most of the time trouble finds us. But we don't just ignore it," Harry said confidently. "We can't, you know?" Arthur nodded and Harry wondered if he was the one nodding falsely this time. "We... we don't go looking for anything, but we can't just stand by and let things happen. It wouldn't be right." Arthur continued to nod.

"I know what you mean, Harry." He looked back down at his glass. "I feel exactly the same way about the Order. I don't want my family to go looking for trouble... but still we can't do nothing, right?" Harry thought he was beginning to understand what exactly was on Arthur's mind.

"Mr. W – Arthur, everyone else wants to help. I don't think anyone wants trouble, but..." Harry thought about what Sirius would say; what Hermione might say. "If not us, then who? You know? If we don't do something, then who will?" The words came to Harry's surprise as much as Arthur's, and Harry stopped for a moment the think about what he'd said.

It did make sense, but Harry'd never thought of it like that. He smiled. Thinking about it like that was rather comforting actually; it made the prophecy seem a lot less intimidating than before.

"Yes, Molly says the same thing all the time." Arthur chuckled to himself. "I always find that funny, actually. She's the one most concerned about everyone's safety... it's constantly on her mind, but she always tells me exactly why we're doing this whenever I bring it up." Arthur looked back up at Harry. "Thanks Harry, you're a much older soul that you should be." Harry was taken aback at the complement.

"Err.. thank you," he mumbled.

"Harry, please look after Ron," Arthur told him in a way that was more sincere than anything Harry had ever heard him say. There was no trace of the slightly eccentric, Muggle obsessed youth in his face. "Ron needs you... he'd be lost without you and Hermione, and I think it frustrates him. Like he doesn't want to need either of you." Harry looked down.

"Needing friends isn't weakness," Harry muttered softly.

"Exactly, Harry. Just look after him, please." Harry looked back up again and Arthur took another sip from his glass. "I worry about him more than any of the others." He paused for a moment. "Maybe even because of the others." Harry wasn't quite sure what he meant again, but he nodded all the same.

"I'll do my best... Arthur." The older man smiled as he rose from his seat and drank the last of his amber drink.

"Well, should at least try to sleep." Arthur walked over to the door. "Thanks for the talk Harry. Best of luck at school this year."

Harry sat back in the chair for a moment, thinking about the things he'd said. They'd made sense, just not until he'd already said them. Harry rubbed his temples and rose from the seat. A little more sleep would definitely not hurt, he decided.

* * * *

Harry awoke smoothly later that morning. He wasn't sure what had woken him this time, but he was sure it wasn't a dream. In fact, Harry felt an odd sense of being at peace as he opened his eyes. Ron was still asleep next to his bed, snoring lightly, (for Ron anyway), the first rays of Sun streaming in through the only window in the room.

He was just about to remove his covers and get dressed for the day when the door opened slowly, revealing Arthur Weasley already in his robes. He looked at Harry with a bit of surprise.

"Oh, already up then." He smiled. "Well, make sure to get Ron up. We don't want to be late for the train." Arthur closed the door behind him, leaving Harry alone with the still fast asleep red-head.

Harry quickly got ready to leave, and woke Ron up as he was packing his trunk. Hedwig, whom he had let out during the night to stretch her wings before the long train ride, had returned to her cage sometime while he slept, and was just lifting her head as Ron grumpily began to pull on some clothes.

"Why does the train have to leave so early?" Ron muttered tiredly. Harry was going to point out that the train left at eleven o'clock, which could only ever be called "early" by Ron, but decided that his time would be better spent organizing his trunk so that everything fit.

"What time is it?" Ron asked, still groggy. Harry glanced at the clock.

"Nearly nine." Ron grunted and walked out of the room to use the facilities after putting on his clothes quickly.

Despite starting slow, it was not long before everyone was in the front room, trunks packed and ready, and they still had just over an hour to get there. Ginny was looking through her trunk one last time before they left, assuring she had left nothing out, while Hermione simply looked over a sheet of parchment which Harry could only assume was a checklist. Ron, however, was talking to his father.

"How are we getting there?" he asked in what Harry recognized as a still drowsy voice.

"Yes, well, the Ministry didn't have anything to spare this time, so we thought it would be fun to get there the Muggle way!" Molly Weasley gave him an admonishing look.

"You mean we actually have to go there in a normal cor?" Ron asked impatiently.

"It's called a car," Hermione corrected, not looking up from her list. Ron turned to reply.

"Well I don't care what it's called, it's slow!" He turned back to his father. "Who is going to drive it?"

"Well actually," Arthur started, "we're taking two cars." He seemed absolutely thrilled at the prospect. "One of you will ride with Hermione and her parents, and the other two will ride with me and your mother." He looked out the front window approvingly. "We had to use two cars you know, since these really are Muggle vehicles. Not even any space enlarging charms." Harry's eyes darted to the door nervously.

"Umm, no charms at all, Mr. Weasley?" His smile in response was answer enough.

"Not a single one! They even run on peter!" Harry stifled a chuckle.

"Actually, it's called petrol, Mr. Weasley," Hermione told him far more graciously than she had Ron. Harry, who was again looking nervously at the door, spoke up.

"Umm," he began, trying to find the words that wouldn't insult anyone. "I was wondering if it would be alright if I rode with Hermione and her parents." He turned and looked at Hermione for a moment who glanced up at him from the parchment in her hand. "I, er, never really got the chance to meet them properly," he rambled.

While strictly speaking it was true, it was not the reason Harry wanted to ride with Hermione's parents. For all of his good intentions and good naturedness, Harry was not certain that he was comfortable climbing into a car that had no charms on it when Mr. Weasley was driving. Arthur looked at him with a flicker of disappointment before proclaiming that such a thing was quite alright indeed.

Hermione's parents arrived within the next five minutes, and they all piled out of the house, trunks in tow, when they heard the unique sound of the car horn. Harry loaded his trunk into the back of the SUV that the Grangers were driving, looking over at the near identical SUV that the Weasleys were packing.

Making sure that Hedwig was quite secure, Harry opened one of the side doors and climbed up into his seat, buckling his safety belt like his Aunt and Uncle had taught Dudley to. Hermione climbed into the other door moments later, and after a friendly wave from Arthur behind them, they set out towards Kings Cross.

"Nice to meet you again," Mrs. Granger said warmly, turning in her seat so that she could see his face. "Harry, right?"

"Of course it's Harry," her husband said jokingly. "Black hair and a scar? Who else has our daughter told us about with that description." Both Harry and Hermione received very light blushes on their faces as Mrs. Granger turned back to him.

"You'll have to excuse my husband here. He always feels a little touchy about saying goodbye to Hermione after the short time we get to see her." Harry felt an immediate wave of guilt at this. He knew, of course, that Hermione didn't get to spend much time with her parents, but, he told himself, that wasn't his fault. Or at least, not his idea. True, many of the missed holidays had been because of something that was happening to Harry, but it's not as if Harry had asked Hermione to be with him instead of her parents. That revelation, however, also made him feel guilty, although for entirely different reasons that Sirius had been kind enough to point out.

"Hermione tells us that you came from a non-magic family as well," Mr. Granger said, glancing up in his mirror.

"Well–," Harry was cut off by Hermione, who seemed mildly embarrassed by her parents conversation.

"He lives with a Muggle family," she explained to them. "His parents were magical." Harry got a crooked grin on his face and turned back to Mrs. Granger.

"Yeah, I live with my Aunt and Uncle." The two adults passed a look between the two of them at the mention of his Aunt and Uncle, and Harry shot his own look over at Hermione. Just what has she told them?

"Hermione says that you're both dentists, Mrs. Granger?" Harry offered, trying to change the subject. She turned back to him with a startled look on her face.

"Goodness, call me Grace. My husband's name is Howard." Harry nodded in comprehension. "Yes, we're both dentists over on the other side of London," she said merrily. "We believe that your teeth are better looked after by good old fashioned care and attention then magic, not that we have anything against magic. But still, some things can't be done simply by the wave of a hand." Grace looked over at Hermione giving her a meaningful stare, and Harry suddenly recalled how she'd had Madam Pomfery shrink her two front teeth down to a size more in line with her mouth after a certain prank by Malfoy.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and looked back out the window on her right, watching the buildings pass by.

"So we hear you're quite the hero," Grace said, turning her attention back to Harry. Harry got somewhat upset at the comment.

"I don't even remember it, really," he told them, dismissing the praise. Grace looked at him quizzically.

"They don't mean with your parents," Hermione explained to him. "They mean at school." A look of sudden realization crossed Harry's face, and he laughed softly to himself.

"Oh, well, yeah, I wouldn't call that heroism," Harry told them. "We just... do what we have to, you know? Right place, right time; that sort of thing." Hermione looked back over at him with a knowing stare. She, of course, did not agree with a word of what he'd just said, and he could still hear her berating voice warning him of his 'saving people thing'.

"Well that's kind of what makes someone special, isn't it?" Howard said. "If you're in the right place at the right time enough times, that kind of does make you different, doesn't it?" Harry had no idea why they were both being so insistent on puffing up his reputation, but stayed silent to avoid outright disagreeing with them. Hermione, for her part, was now looking at her dad with a disbelieving look on her face.

"We just want to make sure our little girl is safe," Howard said, as if he was finishing an unspoken thought. Harry finally understood where they were going.

"Well, I certainly don't try to be in the right place, but it's Hermione here who always makes sure I get out of it." Hermione looked at him sharply, her expression somewhere in between pleased and distraught.

"Oh ho! Is that right?" Howard said rather loudly. Harry grinned.

"Yeah, honestly, Hermione is the only reason I ever get out of anything. Glad she's there, cause otherwise I wouldn't be here." Grace turned to her daughter with a look of approval on her face, while Hermione seemed mildly embarrassed at the attention. "Brightest witch at Hogwarts, I say," Harry finished with a mischievous smile.

Her parents seemed to decide that that particular answer meant the topic warranted no further discussion and the rest of the short car ride was relatively quiet. Within another ten minutes, Harry and Hermione were unpacking their trunks as the Weasley's pulled up behind them. Before the car even came to a complete stop, Ginny and Ron opened the doors and bolted for the sidewalk. Harry looked at them amused.

"That was one of the scariest things of my life," Ron told Harry in a disturbed fashion. Harry simply laughed and helped Ron and Ginny remove their trunks. With quick goodbyes, the Grangers drove away, leaving the Arthur and Molly to accompany the four through the barrier.

As he came out on the other side, Harry immediately felt at ease. There was something comforting about the smell of the engine, the sound of the platform that made Harry feel like he was coming home. Ginny walked off with her trunk towards Dean Thomas, who was in the middle of an animated conversation with Seamus.

Ron and Hermione started to walk towards the nearest car with their trunks in tow, when Mr. Weasley stopped Harry, pulling him aside.

"Hey Harry," Arthur told him, looking back at the train for a moment. "I just wanted to thank you for the talk we had this morning. You may be sixteen, but it seems that you've learned certain lessons from life quickly." Harry didn't quite agree, considering he wasn't sure what those lessons were. "Look after Ron for me, alright?"

"Okay," Harry replied, nodding his head. The older man smiled.

"Well, don't want to miss the train!" Harry nodded again and drove his cart over to the train. It took him a few minutes to find the compartment Ron and Hermione had settled in, and he sat down with a satisfied grunt after storing his belongings.

Ron was in the middle of explaining why he thought that he shouldn't have to go to the Prefect meeting later during the train, and Harry rolled his eyes, knowing better than to get involved. Just as the train began to pull away, Ginny knocked on the compartment door with Luna standing right next to her. Harry simply nodded his approval through the glass, and Ginny opened the door, drawing Ron and Hermione's attention.

"Hello again," Luna told them in her ever wispy voice. "Glad to see you all made it back this year." Ginny looked between them, a smile on her face that Ron did not appear to be comfortable with.

"So," Ron began. "How's, uh, Dean?" Ginny looked gloweringly at Ron.

"He's fine," she said icily. "Not that it's any of your business." Luna, who seemed completely oblivious to the tension between the siblings, pulled out a copy of the Quibbler and began to read intently... or at least something like reading.

"I was just asking," Ron told her defensively. "No reason to bite my head off!" Ginny stared at him disbelieving.

"I know exactly what you were asking, Ronald." Luna looked at the pair over her Quibbler at the mention of Ron's proper name. "And let me tell you right now, if I find out that so much as asked Dean about it twice, I'll tell Mum about the rice pudding!" A look of almost terror began to cross Ron's face. He just about to make a reply when there was another knock at the compartment door.

"Who is it?" Harry asked politely.

"It's me," came the soft voice. Harry recognized it immediately as Cho Chang, but wasn't quite sure how he wanted to respond.

"Come in," he replied after pondering for a moment. The door slid open, revealing Cho already dressed in her school outfit. She looked every bit as pretty as Harry remembered her, her hair straight and flowing, her eyes dark, but for some reason Harry didn't feel anything at taking the sight of her in.

Cho glanced around the compartment and shared a brief look of displeasure with Hermione, who Harry noticed with some surprise, returned the look in kind.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked turning to Harry. He nodded his head and stood to follow her out of the compartment, shutting the door behind them.

"What is it?" Harry asked. He realized as he was saying it that he didn't have that hopeful tone that seemed to let girls know you were hanging on their every word. Instead it just sounded like your average question. He felt a bit of satisfaction at realizing this.

"I..." she stopped and looked down the corridor both ways. Without warning she pressed her lips against his, albeit softly, before pulling back leaving a stunned Harry in front of her. "I'm sorry," she told him finally. "I was wrong. About... you and about my friends. And..." she seemed to pause as if the next words were truly painful. "About Hermione."

Harry, who was still completely dumbstruck by being accosted, simply stood there, waiting for her to continue.

"I want to start over again," Cho told him, putting her hands on his shoulders and getting much closer than Harry thought was necessary. "I want to take another shot at... things," she told him vaguely. Harry, who was just beginning to recover his composure, gave her a calculating stare.

"You weren't there," Harry told her simply. She looked at him confused. "I'm not... I don't mean this in a bad way, Cho," he glanced down at her clothes then back up to her face. "But you... and me... that was part of a life... before my little trip to the Ministry." She gently let go of his shoulders and he walked around a bit trying to collect his thoughts.

"It's nothing personal, I mean, you're a great looking girl," Harry reminded her, thinking that probably wasn't the most suave way to phrase it. "But my life is different now. I don't feel the same... about anything. You weren't there, at the Ministry, to see it all happen, to know where I am and what life is like for me now." Cho's eyes watered and her lip quivered ever so slightly.

"I could," she told him quickly. "I could if you would just let me." Harry shook his head.

"It's not you, it's just, when I look at you now, it's like that was part of a different life of mine, one that I don't have anymore." A few tears ran down Cho's cheek. He really didn't like it when girls cried. "But... I wouldn't mind becoming friends, I suppose." She wiped her face.

"I... I think I'd like that," she said, although Harry thought that the look on her face said it was definitely not what she would like. He chalked it up to her being a girl. "And... maybe sometime... in the future?" Harry sighed.

"Look, I honestly don't know what the future will be. But it's not the most likely outcome." Harry nodded to himself; that summed it up properly, he thought. Cho looked deflated, and yet, at the same time hopeful.

"Alright," she told him, finally getting her face dry. "Thanks, Harry." She gave him a smile that was so genuine, for a minute Harry felt a twinge, as if her smile made him feel reassured. But just as quickly as it was there, it was gone, and Cho turned around and started walking down the corridor.

As Harry made to open the door again, he saw Neville pass by Cho as she left, and waved to him from across the corridor.

"Hey, Neville," Harry said with enthusiasm. It was nice to see a friendly face after his last conversation. "Would you like to join us?" Neville looked at the compartment door before turning to Harry and nodding.

"That'd be great, I was looking for a spot to sit." Harry pulled the door open to find the room rather quiet. Ron was scribbling on a piece of parchment and Ginny was playing Exploding Snap, while Hermione and Luna read, although Harry felt that what they were reading was probably miles apart.

Everyone looked up to see who had entered the compartment and broke into smiles as they saw Harry return with Neville. Harry sat down in between Hermione and Luna, leaning back into his seat.

"So what'd she want?" Ron asked quickly. Harry closed his eyes for a moment.

"She wanted to get back together again," Harry told them. Ginny looked up from the game, and Luna dropped her Quibbler to pay attention, but Hermione seemed to shrink further behind her book.

"No kidding?" Ron said in an amused tone. "What about that bloke that she was dating... Michael?" Harry actually was surprised for a moment.

"Umm... didn't ask actually. She kind of surprised me with the kiss." Hermione lowered her book at that and gave Harry a chiding look. Everyone else however looked surprised by this turn of events.

"Kiss!?" Ron said exasperatedly. "You snogged her?" Harry shook his head immediately.

"Of course not. All I asked her was what she wanted, then she went and planted one." Ginny started snickering into her hands, but Ron had a look of wonder on his face.

"Blimey, if only all women were that straightforward." Ron left the rest of the thought unfinished.

"So what did you tell her?" Hermione asked in a calm voice.

"Well... I don't know exactly what I told her actually, it all just kinda came out." Harry stopped for a second. "I told her that I wasn't interested in that anymore, but that if she wanted to try being friends, I would do that."

"What!?" Ron looked almost beside himself. "You turned her down? Why!?" Ron's eyes flicked over to his sister for almost an imperceptible moment. "Did you have someone else in mind?" Harry shook his head.

"No, it's just... she's not part of my life anymore. Not like that. Not after the night." Everyone seemed to glance around the room at that comment, and it struck Harry that all six of them were here, in this very compartment. He had a sudden inspiration.

"Hey," he started, drawing all of their attention back to him. "I want the five of you to know... no matter what happens this year... well... thanks for everything you guys did." Harry looked at Neville, Ginny and Luna. When he had first realized they were coming his immediate reaction had been that they were not his first choices. Now, however, Harry could not imagine a better trio to accompany him, Ron and Hermione on any of their dangerous excursions.

Neville got a bit red from the indirect praise, but that made Harry feel even better about giving it. In fact, as he looked at the others, all of them, including Ron and Hermione, seemed to have proud grins on their faces. The moment lasted for a few seconds before Hermione spotted the time and sighed.

"Let's go, Ron," she said plainly. "We have to go to the Prefect car and listen to the announcements from the Head Boy and Head Girl." Ron grumbled as he set down what must have been the last of his homework. Evidentially Hermione had already done the work of, er, convincing Ron to do his prefect duties.

"We'll be back soon," Ron assured Harry. "I hope..."

Ron and Hermione returned two hours later looking thoroughly exhausted. Harry could never understand what was so tiring about telling people they were breaking a rule, but then he'd never been a prefect.

They were just getting settled back in when a familiar voice rang out from the still open door.

"Well, well, well." Harry turned and saw Malfoy, flanked by his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. "It's the whole gang, isn't it?" Malfoy smirked at them. "I guess that makes you all special, doesn't it?" Harry looked around the room briefly.

"We all got to see you're dad unmasked. I'd say that's pretty special." Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I'd watch your mouth, Potter, or that may be all that's left of you when I'm done." Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy was in no way intimidating after the events of last year.

"I'd watch your fingers, because I am done," Harry said shortly. Malfoy got a confused look on face until Harry started slamming the door shut. Malfoy barely moved out of the way in time to save them, and could be heard cursing from the other side of the door. He seemed to pause, as if considering opening the door again, but he must have thought better of it, because him and his two fellow Slytherins left the corridor outside their compartment shortly thereafter.

"That was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "What came over you?" Harry shrugged.

"I don't know... just seemed kind of pointless putting up with him after all we went through in the Ministry." Ron and Neville nodded in agreement, while the three girls all grinned.

The rest of the trip passed rather uneventfully, to Harry's pleasure, and it wasn't long before the train was pulling to a stop at the Hogsmead station. The six of them departed together and began walking towards the carriages, when suddenly Hermione, Ron and Ginny all stopped walking.

Harry stopped and looked back at them. They had horrified looks on their faces, and following their stares, he realized that they must be seeing the Thestrals for the first time. He walked back over to the three of them.

"Hey, don't worry, they've always been there," Harry told them in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "You can just, you know, see them now." The three of them seemed to snap out of their stare and start moving again. When the got into the carriage with Luna and Neville, Ron turned to Harry with very wide eyes.

"Those things look... monstrous," Ron stated. "You never told us they looked so shocking." Harry just sort of shrugged.

"How was I supposed to describe them to you?" Ron nodded.

"Right you are mate."

The Thestrals were quickly forgotten by the time they reached the castle though, as Ron was now complaining rather loudly that dinner was too far off.

"I don't know why they insist on sorting all the little midgets into their houses before dinner," Ron said. "It takes bloody forever."

"Ron," Hermione started in her that-wasn't-a-nice-thing-to-say tone. "What would you prefer they do, make all of the first years stand around while we ate?"

"I don't see why not," Ron argued. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, as if giving up.

The sorting ceremony was interesting as always. Harry rather enjoyed seeing the sorting, but that might be due to the fact that he hadn't seen too many of them while he was here at Hogwarts. After the last student had been sorted, (a Hufflepuff by the name of Marcus Zander), Dumbledore stood to speak to the students.

"We have a few announcements this year. Announcements we will get to right after we're done eating." And with that, Dumbledore sat back down and the plates in front of them filled with food. Harry had to admit he was hungry, as he saw Ron dive in like a ravenous animal, but he wasn't that hungry.

Harry chuckled as he picked up some giblet gravy for the potatoes he was just putting on his plate. He looked over at Neville, who was sitting across from them, and noticed a wand poking out of his pocket.

"Got a new wand Neville?" Harry asked lightly. Neville looked down at it then back up at Harry.

"Yeah," he broke into a smile. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved having my dad's wand, but this... I feel like I can really do things with this wand." He looked around as if checking for a spy before continuing. "Gran was furious that I broke my dad's wand, but I had the pieces still, so she took them from me and got me a new one from Ollivander's. I don't know what it is, but ever since things have just come a bit easier." Neville finished with a confident smile that Harry had never really seen on his face before.

It was good to see Neville so happy. Especially after what happened at the Ministry, Harry told himself. Harry grinned at Neville and turned back to his meal, which was far and above excellent. Coming home was certainly nice.

As he was about to take another bite, he felt a tug at his arm.

"Who do you suppose that is?" Hermione asked, pointing to a new face at the faculty table. Ron, oblivious to anything that wasn't on his plate, ignored the question. Harry looked up to see for himself. The man was what Harry could only describe as average, which made him stand out quite a lot among most witches and wizards. His hair was brown a medium length, combed flat, and he was neither remarkably skinny nor noticeably chubby. In fact, Harry had a hard time picking out a distinctive feature about the man at all until Harry caught his eyes for a moment. His eyes were shockingly green.

"Dunno," Harry replied after a moment of thought. "S'pose he'd be the new Dark Arts professor, right?" Hermione nodded and Harry turned back to the faculty table. From the way Snape was glaring at the man, it had to be the case.

Harry put the thoughts from his mind, figuring that Dumbledore would probably say something about it when they were done, and continued on with his meal.

They sat eating for a while, conversations about the preceding summer bouncing back and forth. Amazingly, or so Harry thought, Ron managed to get by with only a glare at Dean the entire time. That was probably due to the quality, and quantity, of the food in front of him instead of actual self-restraint though.

As everyone began to get their fill however, the Great Hall started to quiet, and before too long Professor Dumbledore rose again, and with the flick of a wrist, cleared the tables. The room feel silent as everyone awaited this years announcements.

"First, I would like to begin with a constant reminder that the Forbidden Forest is just that, forbidden, and no student should be venturing into it unless on official school business accompanied by a member of the faculty.

"Next, comes a reminder from Mr. Filch that magic is not to be used between classes, and that he has added several new items to the list of banned materials, all of which you may see outside his office. I believe that anything with the name Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes on it has found its way on to that sheet." Dumbledore looked over at Ron with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Finally, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Felix Felicis." Dumbledore stepped aside and the man Hermione and Harry had been surveying earlier stood, waving to the room. A polite applause rose from the students, though from the looks on everyone's faces, Harry could tell that no one seemed to be familiar with the new professor. Dumbledore took his place in front of the podium again.

"Professor Felicis joins us as a friend of the Ministry's, although," Dumbledore assured, smiling at the conversation that bubbled up at that comment. "Professor Felicis is simply here from out of the country on their behalf, not as an official representative." Harry could almost feel the Great Hall breathe a collective sigh of relief.

"And on that note, I think it's about time to turn in," the Headmaster observed simply, and with that, the Great Hall rose as a single mass of students and headed for their dorms. As they piled into the Gryffindor common room, Harry shared brief meaningful looks between Ginny, Hermione, Neville and Ron.

"A friend of the Ministry, huh?" Ron said speculatively. "I wonder whose Ministry." Ginny and Neville nodded in agreement.

"Well, nows not the time to discuss it," Hermione assured them. "We should get some sleep for our classes tomorrow. Our first class in the morning is Potions." A dark look crossed Harry's face, but Ginny smiled cheerfully.

"I don't have to see Snape until Wednesday," she proclaimed, and with that, climbed the stairs to her dormitory. Harry and Ron said goodnight to Hermione, and went up the stairs to the sixth year boys dorm with Neville close behind.

They entered to find Seamus and Dean already making up their beds, apparently ready to turn in. Dean caught Ron's eye, and for a tense moment as the rest of the room watched, they stared at each other, as if playing a game of chicken. Finally, Ron broke the silence.

"You hurt her, I'll kill you." Dean stared back at Ron.

"Right." And with that, everyone carried on. The single exchange seemed to encompass everything that either had to say to one another, and from what Harry could see, they both finished getting ready for bed without so much as a single glare between them. Harry crawled into his bed, glad to finally feel the familiar sheets against his skin, and with thoughts of a brand new term in front of him, drifted off to sleep seemingly without a care in the world.

9. Felix Felicis

A/N: Well here we are, Chapter 9. I'd like to clear up a few things before we start.

First, I named the professor "Felix Felicis" back in 2004, before book 6 was released. In fact, I wrote most of this story line before book 6 came out, let alone book 7. Any coincidences you see beyond allusions, (such as the professors name), are entirely coincidental. As in, I thought up my story first, then read hers.

Second, the story is about the same speed as a normal book, so bear with me on the progression here. It will be H/Hr in the end, so don't fret about that, no matter how bad it looks throughout the story.

That said, I would love to get some flames if it means I get more feedback. I was honestly hoping for a bit more response to Chapter 8, but oh well.

I'd like to thank my beta, ro10tom8os for the excellent job on betaing and very quick turn around on the chapter. . Now on to the story.

Chapter 9: Felix Felicis

The next morning Ron and Dean dressed without so much as looking at one another; Ron was out the door before Harry even had his shirt on. Harry glanced at Neville, who gave him a look that said he didn't understand either, and finished dressing.

By the time Harry descended the stairs to the common room it was already bustling with students getting ready for breakfast and their first classes of the term. Harry spotted Ron in a corner hunched over a parchment.

"Why'd you take off like that?" Harry asked as he approached the frantic red-head. Ron looked up momentarily before scribbling some more on his parchment.

"Had to touch up my homework. Couldn't finish it on the train 'cause of the sodding prefect duties." Harry gave Ron a look of disbelief that the preoccupied boy missed.

"You weren't avoiding Dean?" Harry ventured, figuring that if he was going to be in the dorm with both of them, he better figure this out at the beginning of the school year. Ron stopped and looked up at him again.

"Dean? What gave you that impression?" Ron seemed to dismiss the notion entirely and returned to his parchment. "There," he said, minting his last few scribbles. "That'll have to do." Ron quickly stored the homework, glancing up at the entrance to the girls' dorms, and just as he finished, Hermione popped into the room, ready to leave. Ron stood quickly and waved her over. Harry thought it a little more believable now that Ron had simply wanted to get down to finish his homework. Hermione eyed Ron suspiciously before speaking.

"Let's go to breakfast," she concluded. "We don't want to be late for Potions, Harry." He agreed entirely and the trio made their way toward the Great Hall.

"So who do you reckon the new Dark Arts professor is?" Ron said in a hushed voice. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before glancing back at the floor.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I've never seen or heard of him before." Harry nodded.

"Dumbledore said he was from out of the country. I wonder where he's from?" Harry got a sudden vision of a Bulgarian speaking professor dressed in a parka.

"Well he looked normal enough, didn't he?" Ron asked as they rounded a corner and started down the stairs. "Actually... almost odd don't you think?" Harry nodded in agreement.

"He looked a bit too normal if you ask me," Harry interjected. "Almost would have thought he was a Muggle." Hermione let out a sigh.

"Honestly, you two." She looked between them for a moment, as if deciding exactly what they were. "It doesn't matter who someone is. You two always assume the worst." She looked away from them, a dignified expression on her face. "He's probably just American or something of the sort."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry suddenly remembered something however, and he quickly grabbed Ron and Hermione pulling them to the side. They looked at him questioningly.

"I almost forgot to tell you guys," he started. "The night before we left on the train I had a dream." Ron looked at him expectantly, but Hermione looked him with worry.

"Harry, you know you're not supposed to be having those dreams any more!" she scolded him in a hushed voice. "What if it wasn't real?" Harry shook his head confidently.

"No, this was real," he told them. Harry explained the dream to them, telling them about seeing Wormtail, and the cloaked figure. He finished with how he had woken up seeing through the cloaked figure's eyes. Hermione and Ron passed a look to each other like they were each asking the other how to respond, then both turned back to Harry.

"Are you sure it wasn't, you know, just a normal dream?" Hermione asked tentatively. Harry looked at her disparagingly.

"Of course I'm sure!" Harry told her. Ron looked at Harry with a touch of disbelief, and he suddenly felt withdrawn like he had earlier during the summer, his mind drifting back to the prophecy.

"We believe you mate. It's just..." Ron trailed off. "It doesn't make sense, you know? You think maybe You-Know-Who was possessing him? I mean, that's how you've saw through the snake." Harry shook his head again.

"No," Harry told him firmly. "I don't know how, but I know that Voldemort wasn't possessing him. There was something else." Harry ended the thought vaguely. He knew that it was something else, but what was an entirely different matter.

"You should tell Dumbledore," Hermione said worried. Harry felt an instant resentment rise up from inside him.

"No," Harry said with such confidence and finality that neither Ron nor Hermione argued the point. "We'll just have to see if anything else happens. I'm not telling Dumbledore."

If he can keep secrets from me, Harry thought spitefully, I can do the same to him.

Harry started walking again, entering the Great Hall with Hermione and Ron close behind. Breakfast was nearly over already, so Harry and Hermione grabbed some fruit as they left for the dungeons. He could hear Ron talking about his fortune at not having Potions as he left the Great Hall with a wistful look back at the Gryffindor table.

"You'll have to tell him eventually," Hermione told him guardedly, drawing his attention back to her as they approached the Potions classroom. "You can't hide it from him, Harry, it's wrong."

This however just made Harry think angrily about how wrong keeping the prophecy secret had seemed to him, and for a moment he shot Hermione a venomous look that he was quite glad she had not seen. The momentary misplaced anger made him quite guilty about his two best friends and how he still hadn't told them about Dumbledore's shocking revelation at the end of last term. They were just trying to help after all.

Hermione and Harry walked into the Potions classroom with only a few minutes to spare and quickly grabbed two seats next to each other, looking around the classroom. Harry noticed Hannah Abbot across the room next to Ernie Macmillan and let out a sigh of relief. They would be in Potions with Hufflepuff it appeared. That is, until Michael Corner walked in a took a seat.

Harry looked around the room again and realized that he saw students from all four houses in their year. He turned to Hermione to question her, but almost as if on cue, she volunteered an answer to his unasked question.

"Some of the N.E.W.T. classes get so few students in them that they combine all of the students in the houses into a single class." She paused for a moment before continuing a little more softly. "Particularly Potions." She brought out her Potions book and turned to the page listed on the board at the front.

Harry looked around the room in a small bit of wonder. Well, at least he didn't see one face in the classroom.

"Sweet Merlin!" Harry's head snapped to the door, as did many of the other students in the classroom. "Potter! How did you get in to N.E.W.T. Potions?" Malfoy strode over and took the seat directly behind them, an look of immense amusement on his face.

"I can't imagine that Professor Snape would have wanted such a worthless student!" Harry rounded on Malfoy to rattle off a response.

"Face forward!" Snape's voice called out from the door as he walked briskly into the classroom. "I'll have none of your usual antics, Mr. Potter. It's by the grace of the Headmaster that I didn't re-administer your O.W.L. myself, Potter, to ensure its... accuracy." Malfoy snickered behind them as Harry turned back to the front of the classroom.

"We shall be wasting no time in this class," Snape continued as if he hadn't been talking to Harry at all. "N.E.W.T. level Potions is both difficult beyond anything you have ever done and requires a certain amount of finesse. You cannot simply push your way through this class on sheer determination." Snape's eyes settled squarely on Harry before he continued.

"Just as well, the first potion we will be studying in this class is called an Elixir of Fortitude. This concoction, like most potions learned in this class, can be extremely useful to one who uses it properly, but very dangerous to those with little restraint." Snape turned to the board and waved his wand briefly, words appearing at a dizzying pace.

"There are many Elixirs of Fortitude, and the all manifest very little magic themselves, and thus many doubt their effects. However, if you have all completed the reading that was assigned, you would know why its effects vary so much. Anyone?" Hermione's hand predictably shot up, and predictably Snape looked for another person to answer. "Corner?"

"The potion works off of the will and determination of the person using it, Professor." Snape got a nasty grin on his face.

"Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw." He pointed briefly at one of the sentences on the board. "The potion turns the power of sheer will into something tangible, giving the user a bit of whatever they need to complete their task, depending on how determined they are. Things such as strength or imperviousness to injury. Why is this its biggest danger?" Again Hermione's hand shot up. It seemed however that no one else was willing to volunteer the information. "Granger?" Snape almost spat out.

"An Elixir of Fortitude can cause the person using it to become overconfident and reckless due to its feeding on their determination. Animusentia, the strongest Elixir of Fortitude known, is said to have harrowing effects if used by someone who is already too confident. The people who can gain the most effect from it are also most likely to be injured by it, Professor." Snape waived his hand dismissively and a new set of words appeared on the second half of the board.

"Correct." He walked out from behind his desk, heading for the door to his office. "Follow the instructions on the board for a mild Elixir of Fortitude. Due to the nature of its effect, you will work in pairs to ensure that no one," Snape paused for a moment, looking directly at Harry again. "Becomes too confident." Snape disappeared into his office, but Harry didn't believe for a moment that he wouldn't be back soon, and got right to work getting out his potion supplies.

"It's quite simple," Hermione told Harry. He turned to her for a moment, thinking about how he wished he had a bit of the potion at the moment so he could be as sure as Hermione seemed to be. "Just follow my lead," she told him, already preparing her frog spawn.

"Oh, that's how you got into N.E.W.T. Potions," Malfoy said, his voice dripping with insinuation. Harry rounded on him, the knife out for his ingredients still in his hand.

"Shut it, Malfoy, before I send you to join your dear old dad." Harry watched with satisfaction as his retort seemed to get under the Slytherin's skin like it had two times before.

"Potter!" Harry heard Snape's voice ring out from the other side of the room. He quickly turned back to his preparations. "Do not threaten students in my classroom, I don't care if you think you're Merlin himself. Ten points from Gryffindor!" Harry was about to stutter a retort when he felt a tug at his robes.

"It's not worth it," he heard Hermione whisper. "Just do the work and we'll go to our next class."

Harry grudgingly resigned himself and before too long had a pot of simmering light blue liquid in front of him. Hermione had been right, the potion had been quite simple.

The only thing that made it difficult was how as the potion become more and more complete, the fumes seemed to have preliminary effects on the maker, causing them to be more and more confident in their ability to simply make the potion, which in turn did tend to cause you to simmer for a few too many seconds, or stir a few too many times. The only thing that made it possible to complete, Harry reasoned, was that you were fully confident in yourself, meaning that you were sure to tell your partner what they were doing wrong.

Hermione and Harry left the dungeons still feeling the residual effects of the potion as they headed to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. When they got to the class they were both pleased to see that Ron was already there, saving them seats in the class which they apparently had with Ravenclaw this time.

"Has the new Professor been in yet?" Harry asked. Ron looked between Hermione and Harry, as if asking a question, then answered.

"No, he hasn't." Ron paused for a moment. "How did potions go?" Harry felt a pang of guilt. Ron might be happy that he didn't have to deal with Snape, but Harry could tell that a part of the boy hurt that he didn't get to spend the time with his two best friends.

"It was horrible," Harry said, trying to brighten Ron's mood. "Slimy git was the same as always. Took ten points from me for telling Malfoy to keep his mouth shut." Ron snorted a response.

"Yeah, don't suspect that he was very happy that you were there." Ron smiled mischievously. Hermione looked as if she were about to add something when a sweeping sound came from the door.

"Welcome to N.E.W.T. level Defense," the voice rang out, and Harry turned to get a proper look at their new professor.

His initial assessment had been pretty spot on, Harry decided. The man was mostly average, with a rounded nose, green eyes and no blemishes on his face.

"My name, as you should all know by now, is Felix Felicis. You may all address me as Professor, Professor Felicis, or Sir, whichever you take a liking to." A hand to Harry's left rose slowly, and Felicis turned to face the new student. "You may ask your question after telling me your name."

"Anthony Goldstein, Sir. I was just wondering." He paused for a moment, apparently not sure of his question. "Professor Dumbledore said you were from out of the country but you don't have a foreign accent."

As soon as he had mentioned it, Harry noticed it as well, wondering how he could have missed something so obvious. Harry blamed it on the last of the Elixir's effects, and paid close attention for an answer.

"Ah, well spotted Goldstein. Yes, I think that deserves five points for Ravenclaw. Paying attention to details, that's one of the most important parts of Defense." Felicis smiled before continuing. "I was actually born and raised here on the Islands," the Professor started. "However, after graduating from Hogwarts some time ago, I decided to broaden my horizons and traveled a bit. After a short while in Egypt and the Himalayas, I finally decided to stay in the Americas, and have been there for years now." The Professor picked up a Sneakoscope thoughtfully before setting it back on his desk.

"I couldn't stay away from home forever though, and when Dumbledore offered to let me teach for the year, I couldn't refuse. Especially when I seemed to be the only person that him and the Ministry could agree upon." Professor Felicis paused for a moment, as if recalling something, then turned purposefully to the front of the classroom.

"Now," he began. "It seems that overall your Defense education has been pretty well rounded, though it seems each year has been a little, er, one sided." He glanced down at a sheet of paper sitting on his desk. "Seeing as you all seem to have covered enough theory last year, I thought it would be helpful to take a complete look at Defense." He turned to the board and words began to appear as he waved his wand effortlessly. Turning back to the class an expectant look crept on to his face.

"Well? Is anyone going to take notes?" There was a great rustle of paper and quill as everyone rushed to retrieve the items from their bags. "Now, today we shall look at how creative you are in difficult situations. Please follow the instructions on the board and raise your hand once you are finished."

By the time the class ended, it was lunch, and everyone was ready for a good meal. Hermione jogged to catch up to Ron and Harry who had left promptly once the class had ended.

"That was a splendid class!" Hermione said. Harry turned to look at her. "We learned so much about what to do in so many different situations." Harry didn't quite agree.

"Well, yes, but what good is knowing what to do if you don't know how to do it?" He looked at her for a sign of reproachfulness. "I mean, he's loads better than Umbridge, but still, all we did was talk about what we'd all do in different situations, then discuss it. I mean, we could have done that in the common room."

"Well give him time," Hermione bristled. "We can't just jump right into it on the first day, you know. We have to do it properly." Harry turned away ruefully.

I don't have time to do it properly, he thought to himself.

Walking into the Great Hall, Harry was immediately pulled aside by Professor McGonagall. Harry waved Ron and Hermione forward, telling them that he would join them shortly.

"Glad to be back, Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Yes, Professor."

"How was your Potions class?" Harry's face contorted as he was immediately conflicted. The class had not been especially bad, but Harry hated Snape.

"Er, alright I suppose."

"Well perhaps this will cheer you up," she said. "It seems that your lifetime ban for Quidditch was much shorter than expected. The Ministry has informed us that you are now free to play once more." Harry perked up instantly at the news. He was itching to get back on the field and ride his Firebolt. "And on that note, I was wondering if I could ask you a question." Harry nodded emphatically.

"Certainly, Professor."

"The lifting of your ban was contingent on one thing." She paused for a moment, studying Harry. "The condition was that you did not play as Gryffindor Captain." Harry drooped noticeably at the requirement. "I was wondering who you thought would make a good replacement." Harry blinked. Who would make a good replacement? But the answer came almost as quick as the question.

"Ron." Harry smiled, realizing just what his answer meant. "Ron would be an excellent Team Captain. He's brilliant at chess and strategy, and he knows Quidditch back to front." McGonagall nodded tersely.

"I hope he's good. I'd much like to keep the cup in my office." She offered a faint smile before turning to go pull Ron aside. No small feat, Harry thought, since he'd already started eating.

Harry walked over to seat himself next to where Hermione was, and just as he was sitting down he heard a voice ring out across the entire Great Hall.

"ME!?" Harry looked to see Ron standing next to Professor McGonagall in complete disbelief. Their conversation didn't last much longer, and when he came back to sit with Harry and Hermione, there was a smile on his face so big Harry wondered if it would even be affected by Dementors. Harry noticed something flashing in Ron's hand as he sat down next to them.

"She made me Quidditch Captain!" Ron exclaimed, perhaps a little louder than was necessary to tell Harry and Hermione. Harry smiled but noticed a reserved look on Hermione's face.

"That's great, Ron. I'm sure you'll be brilliant at it." Ron got serious and turned to Harry.

"I'll need to hold tryouts for new players, and schedule practices, not to mention making some plays for us to go over." Harry laughed at his friend. Ron seemed lost in his own world.

"Well don't forget about your prefect duties, Ron," Hermione reminded him. "I don't want to have to do all of them by myself." Ron nodded dismissively.

They ate lunch promptly, and by the time they had returned to the common room at the end of the day they were burdened with several essays that were due by the end of the week. Hermione was adamant about finishing their homework as soon as possible, and after the relaxation Harry had felt during the summer with his homework completed, he was inclined to agree. The draw of a game of wizard's chess with Ron however had been too great, and so Hermione could be seen in the corner scribbling away while the two friends played a game that Ron was handily winning.

Harry was considering a move he suspected Ron wouldn't think of, (mostly due to it being particularly suicidal), when Neville approached them looking a bit nervous.

"Hey guys," he stuttered. "I was wondering... What did you think of Defense?" Harry and Ron both looked at each other.

"It was alright, I guess," Harry said unenthusiastically. Harry noticed Neville pick up hopefully.

"Are... are we still doing the D.A.? I mean, I know Umbridge isn't here anymore, but still..." Neville trailed off apprehensively. "It... it really helped... all of us who were in it, you know?"

Harry hadn't given it too much thought, to be honest. They'd formed the group out of frustration at the teaching of Defense last year, but considering it more, Harry had to admit that the group had proven most helpful to everyone... especially during their trip to the Ministry. Harry's eyes fell briefly on Hermione who was still furiously writing what he could only assume was an important essay for one of their classes.

"Let's give the new Professor some time," Harry told Neville, remembering his early discussion with Ron and Hermione. "It's been one day, let's see how he does first." Neville drooped noticeably.

"Well, alright I guess." Harry reached out and grabbed Neville's arm reassuringly.

"Hey, if how you did at the Ministry is any indication, I reckon you don't have anything to be worried about," Harry told him honestly. "Besides, you said it yourself. Things are easier with your new wand, right?" Neville perked up at the words of encouragement.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Neville told them, a smile creeping over his face.

"And you can always ask for help if that's what you need," Harry told him. Neville brightened considerably.

"Thanks, Harry." They both watched as Neville walked off confidently towards the dorms.

"What're you on about?" Ron asked quickly. "If you tell Neville that we'll help him any time we'll be answering questions all the time." Harry looked back at Ron. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Neville is alright, but still, we'll never get any time away from school work." Harry shook his head.

"You didn't see him," Harry told Ron definitively. "At the Ministry Neville was completely different. He can do it on his own, he just needs someone to tell him so." Harry didn't know why, but he felt an odd comfort knowing that he could help Neville. Ron muttered an acknowledgment. Harry knew that Ron didn't necessarily agree with him, but that he couldn't find a counter-argument, which was nearly the same thing as agreement coming from Ron.

Harry turned back to the game of chess, moving his piece as he had considered earlier. Ron let out an amused laugh.

"That's suicide mate."

The rest of the week passed slowly, and despite the fact that Harry was doing well enough in Potions to impress himself, Snape still berated him for all of his mistakes. Ron had begun creating plays for the Quidditch team to go over that Harry thought rivaled anything Wood came up with, and was trying to schedule tryouts as soon as possible.

One thing about his new classes did not get past Harry however. Every other Defense teacher he'd had so far had taken at least a moment to comment on teaching the Harry Potter. Professor Felicis however seemed interested only in teaching his material, and for once Harry was thankful for such dedication from a teacher. That's why he was surprised when Professor Felicis asked him to stay after class later the next week.

"Yes Professor," Harry said diffidently.

"I was wondering about your thoughts on my class so far," the Professor said, sitting down at his desk. Professor Felicis kept the classroom devoid of much anything, and his desk looked like you might expect a businessman's office desk to look. Neatly organized and partitioned, with whatever he was currently working on carefully placed in the middle. Felicis grabbed a quill and began to work on the parchment, waiting for an answer.

"Er, well, not bad really," Harry said unconvincingly.

"Well the fact that you tried to lie to me at least reassures me that you aren't comfortable with your dislike of the class so far." Professor Felicis looked up at Harry and for a moment he saw a twinkle in his green eyes much like Harry had seen in Dumbledore's many times before. "What do you find lacking, Harry?"

"Well," Harry hesitated. The expression on his Professor's face however exuded sincerity, and so Harry decided to go ahead. "It's just a bit slow, Professor. I mean, I know most students would probably want to kill me for saying this, being in N.E.W.T. classes and all, but we only just got to applying some of our essays this class." Harry stared into his Professor's eyes for a few more moments before steeling his resolve and finishing the thought. "From all of my experience, it's the hands on reaction training that gets you through the tough spots. Knowing what to do doesn't help you at all if you freeze the first time you need to do it."

Professor Felicis looked down at his parchment for another moment and went back to writing. The expression on his face showed neither displeasure nor understanding, and Harry dangerously thought for a moment that perhaps the notion Harry proposed had never crossed Felicis' mind before.

"Yes, well, unfortunately I can't treat the class as if someone may be pushed into an actual scenario at any time, no matter how true that may be for some." He looked back up at Harry. "I'm teaching this class so that it will be of the most benefit to everyone when it's done, not as a crash course to someone with... unique, circumstances." Harry felt a bit ambushed at the retort. It's not as if the Professor hadn't asked for Harry's opinion. The Dark Arts teacher went back to his parchment.

"I'm sorry Professor, I wasn't questioning your teaching, I was just..." Harry trailed off, trying to figure out what he had been doing. "I was just explaining what I thought about the class from my point of view."

"How bad is your vision, Harry?" The question dumbfounded Harry for a moment. The first reaction Harry had was absolute rage that a Professor would make such a snide comment after Harry describing his "point of view". He was sure he'd heard the Professor wrong.

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked how bad your vision was," the Professor got a look on his face that told Harry he didn't like repeating himself. "You wear glasses, how bad is your vision?" Harry paused for a moment, trying to figure out why the teacher could possibly want to know such a thing. Professor Felicis sighed.

"Harry, it doesn't matter why I want to know, it's a fairly mundane question. I'm just curious." Harry studied the Professor for a moment. He didn't know what the reason had been, but Harry was sure that the question had not simply popped into his Professor's head.

"It's pretty bad," Harry said. "I can still see fine with my glasses on, but it's difficult without them." Professor Felicis nodded, as if understanding something.

"I see." He turned back to the parchment. He'd said it with such finality that Harry was sure their conversation was over, but he waited a minute before moving. Slowly gathering his things he headed for the door.

"If your vision... changes at all, come talk to me about it," the Professor told him. Harry turned and saw that the man was quite earnest, and nodded his response before heading out the door to find Hermione and Ron.

When he got to the Great Hall, he found them eating lunch at the Gryffindor table, and when they saw him approaching they knew he had something to tell them. All three quickly finished their food so that they could find somewhere a little more secluded.

"What's up, mate?" Ron started as soon as they were alone. "You look a little flustered."

"The new Dark Arts Professor, Felicis, he kept me after class, right?" Ron and Hermione nodded. "Well, at first it seemed like he kept me after for no reason at all. He was just asking about what I thought of the class." Hermione looked worried.

"What did you tell him?" she demanded. Harry scoffed.

"I told him exactly what I told you. It's a nice class, but it's moving too slow." Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry as if he'd told them Snape would be going home with them for Christmas.

"Faster?!" Ron started. "What, are you trying to fail everyone else in the class?" Hermione shot Ron a nasty look before handing out her own reprimand.

"He's teaching the whole subject, Harry. Everyone is going to learn the subject for once." Harry was a bit incensed that they were jumping on him like this.

"Yeah, everyone learned from Lupin and Moody." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyway. He told me that he wasn't teaching the class for students with 'special circumstances', and said that he was going to keep teaching the way he had been." Ron looked relieved but Hermione looked upset as before.

"He told you he wasn't going to help you?" She looked at Harry with a disapproving look. "Not that you're really down at a sixth-year N.E.W.T. level, but still. He shouldn't be dismissing you." Harry smiled at her sudden change of heart.

"Well, no, he more said he wasn't going to teach specifically me." Harry shook his head. "But that isn't what was interesting. Right as I was ready to go, he asked me how bad my vision was." Hermione and Ron looked at him disbelieving.

"Your vision?" they exclaimed simultaneously.

"Yeah, that was my reaction." Harry nodded. "But he asked again and when I told him, he asked me to come talk to him if my vision ever changed." He rounded on Hermione. "Have you ever come across something about bad vision meaning anything?"

Hermione looked startled at being put on the spot, but quickly regained her composure.

"No, I've never heard anything of the sort." They looked between each other meaningfully, and the halls began to fill with students.

"I guess lunch is over," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron added dully.

"Let's do a little bit of research once we're out of classes," Hermione offered. "See if we can turn anything up on bad vision." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, just what we need, more work to make our vision worse."

10. Visions

Author's Note: It's been about six months since my last chapter update. Previously, this story went on an eleven month hiatus before I picked it back up again. That was due to my loss in interest and other, similar causes. This... this was not because of any of that.

Since I have last posted a chapter, I have started a new term of school, and finished it. I have somehow scraped together enough money to pay for my tuition by borrowing from friends, only to fall behind upon completing my latest term, now some $1900 in debt. I have had to run up my only credit card in order to pay for my essentials, because I have had three jobs in the last six months, ranging from a television salesman, to a pressman.

My girlfriend of over two years, the only woman I have ever truly loved, ended our relationship, and though I still love her dearly, our relationship is now... less than perfect. My sister has got married and should be having my nephew in mid March, after which her and my brother-in-law will be moving across the country.

And if this wasn't enough, I now need to move out and produce $1000 in move-in fees for my new place within about four weeks.

So as you can see... writing has not been at the top of my list. But writing has always been one of my favorite activities, and so one night in February I opened my copy of Chapter 10, opened a bottle of Guinness, and plowed through the rest of the chapter.

The good news is that I now have a higher paying job which I can stick with, and a housing arrangement that I can stick with. So I should be able to write consistently again. I wouldn't expect more than one chapter every other week, but still, better than nothing right?

Chapter 10:Visions

The next few weeks were a blur for Harry. Between his N.E.W.T. level classes and chasing down every reference to vision in the library, Harry's days passed quickly and without pause. Despite finding out a lot about ways to magically cope with poor vision, nothing in their search had turned up anything Professor Felicis might have been interested in.

Ron was even worse off than Harry, or so he thought. While Harry did have Potions, which Ron did not, Ron had to deal with both Prefect Duties and Quidditch Captain duties. The teams tryouts had gone alright, with much of Gryffindor turning out for the event. Despite the enthusiastic response, Harry and Ron were a bit dismayed to discover that very few people had any real skill, particularly in the spot of Beater. Ron still hadn't decided who to draft, even though the time for practices was soon approaching.

Harry meanwhile, was beginning to think Hermione had been rubbing off on him. Perhaps it was the extra class they had together, or the satisfaction he had felt during the summer when his homework had been completed early, but he felt the need to do his homework stronger than he had previous years. No small part of this was the peculiar fact that Harry seemed to remember his studies better when he did his homework with her. It's not as if she helped him any more than she ever had, it was just that Harry always seemed to be able to recall what he had studied when Hermione was around. Now that he thought about it, he seemed to be keen on playing a game of chess when he was with Ron, and being near Luna gave him sudden urges to talk about Crumple-Horned Snorknacks. The whimsical thought brought a faint smile to Harry's face before he returned to his work.

He considered a particularly nasty Potions problem, furrowing his brow. What did a bat wing do in common alertness potions? He tried to think back to the lesson, but all he could manage was the immense displeasure he'd felt for Snape and Malfoy. Harry sighed. He glanced up at Hermione, doing her Potions assignment as well. Harry found that it helped him study if they were working on the same assignment at the same time.

Oh yeah, it keeps the potion from preventing sleep. Harry turned back to his parchment and began writing out his answer.

"I think we're looking at this the wrong way," Hermione said from across the table. Harry glanced up again, seeing that she was looking directly at him. "This whole vision thing... what if he didn't literally mean your glasses?" Harry shook his head. This was the third time they'd had this conversation in the last week.

"No, remember?" Harry watched as an annoyed look washed over her face. "He specifically said something about my glasses." Harry focused his eyes on the rims for a moment, causing him to almost immediately become dizzy.

"Well, maybe it's just a metaphor," Hermione offered hopefully. "We've looked up everything on bad vision in the library and all we've turned up is a lot of hexes and charms to either fix or cause the condition."

"Well then perhaps it can't be found in the library," Harry said matter-of-factly. Hermione looked affronted at the very suggestion.

"I don't think we should just stop looking!" She looked down at her parchment for a moment. "Well, this may be an obvious question, really, but I suppose I should ask. Has your vision changed at all recently?"

"Hermione," Harry replied annoyed. "I think I would have told you that." She shook her head.

"Yes, of course, but I had to be sure." They both were silent for a moment, before Hermione looked back up at him. "What could possibly be significant about your visi– wait, of course!" Hermione stood abruptly, heading towards the portrait.

"Where are you going?" Harry called out to her retreating form.

"The library," she called out over her shoulder before disappearing through the entrance. Harry looked back at his potions homework with a sigh. There was no use in doing the homework by himself, he just never seemed to be able to do it while sitting on his own anymore. He began to pack his things into his book bag when Ron stumbled through the portrait hole, looking thoroughly disheveled.

"Where was Hermione off to?" Ron asked tiredly. Harry looked his friend up and down before replying.

"Library... no clue why." Harry stopped for a moment. "You look terrible Ron." The red haired boy drooped his head and grunted.

"This is killing me, mate. I think I'm going to have to ask McGonagall to let me give it up." Harry looked at Ron alarmed.

"You're going to give up being team captain?" Ron jerked his head up at Harry and looked at him as if Harry'd grown a second head.

"Of course not! I meant being a Prefect." Ron's expression suddenly change into one of worry. "You, uh... won't tell Hermione, right?" Harry smiled.

"Course not." Harry gave Ron a significant look. "But you know that she'll notice when you don't show up for any of the Prefect meetings or duties." Ron sighed.

"Yeah, never get a moment do I?" He let out a chuckle. The pair decided that another good game of chess was exactly what the evening called for, and Harry grabbed the set from their dorm room as he stowed his books.

"So what do you reckon Hermione was on about earlier?" Ron asked Harry as they set the pieces up. Harry glanced at the portrait hole and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not sure. She'd been talking about the whole vision thing, then just jumped up and declared she was off." Harry turned to the board making his opening move, and glanced up at Ron. "You don't suppose she's figured it out, do you?" Ron quickly moved his piece forward, sitting back as if to ponder the question.

"I suppose she could have... course knowing Hermione she'll be bursting to tell us once she knows for sure." Harry quickly moved his piece to block Ron's, not giving much thought to the game.

"I'm beginning to think that perhaps the whole thing means nothing." Ron nodded in agreement as he took his turn. "I mean, sure it was a bit odd of Professor Felicis to ask, but since when is an odd Hogwarts teacher something... well, odd I suppose." Harry looked down at the board again and moved his knight around.

"I bet he's having a good laugh about it right now," Ron concluded, moving his piece in the process. "I bet the question meant bugger all and he knew that the three of us would spend so much time trying to figure it out." Ron rolled his eyes. "He at least could have picked something a little less vague." Harry nodded in agreement, taking his move and looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

"I've had something else on my mind as well," Harry voiced carefully, looking around the common room quickly. "Perhaps Neville was on to something with the whole Dumbledore's Army thing." Harry stopped for a moment to watch Ron's reaction, but Ron merely glanced up at Harry for a moment before looking turning back to the board and taking his turn. "I don't think that Professor Felicis is teaching us enough... well, rather I don't want to waste any time."

"I'm not so sure Harry." Ron sighed and gave his friend an apologetic look. "I mean, I know that Defense is really important, especially after... well, you know." Ron cleared his throat before continuing. "But... to be perfectly honest, I have enough on my plate as it is. I mean, studies for N.E.W.T. level classes are brutal, and what with the team and all..." Ron trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

"I know what you mean Ron, it's just..." Harry looked over to the table that the three had used for their study sessions for the last five years. He never really enjoyed studying or doing homework, and yet that corner seemed special to him somehow. It was the same kind of perverse special that he felt about Dumbledore's Army. "I feel like it's something I have to do... or maybe even something I want to do."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked moving his pieces absentmindedly. Harry considered the board for a moment before responding.

"I don't know exactly... this whole ‘Chosen One' business that the papers have been talking about. I feel like it's not me, like it's everyone." Harry and Ron traded a few moves in silence. "He's out there," Harry said simply. Ron looked up, a serious expression on his face. "He's out there, and I'm doing nothing. I don't want to be doing nothing, Ron. I want to be doing something." Ron couldn't really argue with that logic. In a way Ron felt the same.

"Well... maybe we should start it up again then," Ron offered. They traded a few more moves.

"I think I'm going to." Harry looked up at Ron and shared a significant look with his friend. Harry still hadn't told either of them about the prophecy, and a brand new wave of guilt swept over him at the thought. He was going to have to sometime... Dumbledore proved that holding back information like this did more harm than good.

Ron seemed to be wrapped up thought as well, and perhaps that's why Harry did a double take when he finally took a serious look at the board in front of him. Could... no, he couldn't have missed that, could he? Harry glanced up at Ron and saw that he had a faraway look on his face.

Looking back at the board Harry hesitantly moved his rook.

"Erm... Check... mate?" Ron looked down at the board and did a double-take. He checked his moves.

"Uh... yeah..." Ron shook his head. "Wow, I must really be out of it. Good job mate." Harry gave Ron a patronizing look.

"Gee, thanks." Harry was about to add that perhaps he had simply gotten better at the game when he spotted Hermione walking purposefully towards their seats.

"I think I know what Professor Felicis was referring to," Hermione told the two, a thick tome in her hand. Harry and Ron gave her their rapt attention as she set the book down on the table. Hermione glanced around before continuing to ensure that no one was close enough to hear them.

"I think we were approaching the whole thing wrong," Hermione began, opening the book to find a page. "This whole time we've been looking for ways to make vision better or worse, but then I remembered something I'd read once about wizarding traits." Hermione stopped having found the page she had been looking for. Harry and Ron leaned in to see what she had found.

Harry studied the illustration which showed several different kinds of eyes. On the page across from the illustrations a title read "Eyes as a Visual Marker For Inherited Traits". Harry wasn't sure that he understood what Hermione was getting at.

"You think that it's about something I inherited?" Harry queried. He didn't see what was so special about what she'd found.

"Not just something," Hermione said patiently, "something special. I'm not talking about inheriting a big nose, not that I think you have a large nose Harry," she added hastily. "I'm talking about inheriting a magical ability or quality."

"Well then what do you think it is?" Harry asked, even more puzzled. "I don't think that I have any special magical ability."

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "I mean it's not as if Harry here can fly without a broom or something." Harry broke into a grin at the image; Ron's mind was always on the field since he'd gotten the captaincy.

"I don't know what it is, but there are several qualities which usually are marked by eyes," Hermione explained. "Natural power at Legilemency and being a Seer, a real one mind you, are usually marked somehow in the eyes. A truly skilled legilemens for instance usually has eyes that are darker or different color." Harry suddenly jerked forward.

"Voldemort!" Ron fell backwards in his chair, having been in the middle of balancing it when Harry blurted out the Dark Lord's name. "Sorry Ron... didn't mean to startle you..." Harry turned back to the book and Hermione as Ron picked himself up grumbling. "Voldemort has red eyes that look like those of a snake, and he's a very powerful legilemens!" Hermione beamed at him.

"Excellent Harry! Now you get it!" Harry paused for a moment however, seeming to have just realized something.

"I don't have red eyes though... so I can't be a natural legilemens." Hermione shook he head.

"It doesn't work like that.," Hermione stated. "Eyes are simply the marker that something is inherited usually. What different colors or features mean varied depending on what family line they were inherited from." Hermione flipped through the pages to a table which listed qualities that were uncommon in eyes. Harry looked it over, but felt that none of them applied to him. He had, in his opinion, very normal eyes.

"There's nothing here about me," Harry pointed out. Hermione again smiled, indicating she knew something.

"Not if you look at a single feature... but if you look at several together... Harry, Professor Felicis asked about needing glasses, right? So we know bad vision is one of the indicators." Harry nodded.

"If it's something inherited that is," Ron pointed out. "We still don't know if you're right. This could be just another dead end lead."

"It's the best we've got!" Hermione snapped at him. "We've been looking for a long time, and have turned up nothing! We should at least check to see if anything makes sense!"

"That's what I'm saying," Ron replied annoyed. "It doesn't make sense! We haven't ever seen any special quality in Harry like you're talking about, unless you think he plays Seeker well ‘cause he wears glasses!"

"What about green eyes?" Harry asked suddenly, cutting off Hermione's retort. "People always tell me that my eyes are so green, and I know that my mother had them." Harry looked over at Hermione. "Could green eyes be another clue?" Hermione seemed to ponder it for a moment.

"Green eyes and bad vision... maybe..." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "We'll have to check in to it, but that may be it." She smiled at the two, clearly pleased with herself. "The point is that now we have somewhere to start!"

Over the next week the trio worked feverishly to find any known bloodlines that had magical traits linked to green eyes and bad vision to no avail. Harry was beginning to wonder if perhaps the whole thing was a big run around. Here they were, Saturday evening, sitting in the common room with dozens of books spread out over their table.

Everything they could carry from the library on magical traits linked to eyes had been carted back to the table and perused voraciously. Every so often one of them would stop and add some text to their Potions essay or their Transfiguration report.

The effort was monumental, and their school work had not gotten any easier, particularly for Harry and Hermione who still had to deal with Snape in Potions. The evening was made even terser by Ron's recent request to Professor McGonagall that he be removed as a Prefect. The small revelation had put Hermione in a sour mood, and every time she caught Ron's eye she gave him an icy glare to reprimand him for his priorities, while Ron, for his part, scoffed and huffed to make sure she knew he felt affronted by her judgment.

This was driving Harry a bit up the wall however, and after a particularly dramatic sigh from Hermione, he stood swiftly muttering something about getting a new quill from his trunk and stomped off to the sixth year boy's dorm room.

Upon reaching his trunk however, Harry felt a sudden urge to simply get away, and grabbing his invisibility cloak, left the room silently. He passed by Ron and Hermione at the table, who were making purposeful efforts at not talking to one another, and pushed out of the portrait-hole unnoticed.

Not quite sure where he was headed, Harry simply strolled the halls, following his feet. Dumbledore had once said that Harry surely knew what it must feel like to have too many thoughts, and he'd just nodded and smiled, completely oblivious to the sensation. Now though, Harry felt he understood what the old wizard had been talking about quite well.

There were dozens of fragmented thoughts traversing his mind at any given moment, and many were unrelated. The research they had been busy with was a prominent concern, but so were his studies and homework. Sirius also was always on his thoughts, and lately Harry had found himself very curious as to what was in each of the letter. Particularly the one addressed to his Aunt.

What in the world could Sirius have wanted to say to Aunt Petunia? And why?

But thoughts of Sirius, in any capacity, always conjured worries and gloom about the prophecy that he still had not shared with anyone. He didn't know why it was so difficult, but it just didn't seem the sort of thing you casually dropped in conversation. "Ron, could you pass the butter? Oh yeah, and the prophecy that we broke condemned me to either kill or be killed. Oh! And the salt as well!" Certainly not.

Yet despite all of this, his eyes were the thing he was most concerned with at the moment. In fact, he was so concerned with them that they hardly paid any attention to where he was, and by the time he stopped to take stock of his surroundings, he found himself on the first floor not too far from the Dark Arts classroom.

A moment's inspiration found Harry staring at the doorway to the classroom tentatively. He felt a strong compulsion to throw the door open and see if he could pick up any information from the average-looking Professor. The thought was dashed from his mind however when he heard someone behind the door approaching.

Forgetting for a second that he was under an invisibility cloak, Harry dashed off to put some space between him and the door before turning to watch the man emerge. Professor Felicis came out with his wand gripped in his hand, hanging limply at his side. He turned to walk down the corridor right in Harry's direction, and Harry pressed himself against the wall, trying to make space for the man to walk by. Please don't notice me, Harry pleaded in his head.

But just as the hopeful thought passed through his mind, Professor Felicis stopped and started looking around. Harry, fearful of being caught out after curfew, held his breath. The man glanced around the corridor, and as his eyes landed on the spot where Harry stood; he stopped, staring intently, his eyes intense in their scrutiny. He can't see through my cloak, can he? Harry simply waited and pleaded silently for the man to continue on.

An odd sort of smile spread over the Professor's face before he turned and continued down the corridor. Deciding he'd had enough exercise for the night, he quickly made his way back to the Gryffindor common room, finding it empty. The table they'd been using was likewise empty, the books most likely with Hermione in her dorm.

Harry pulled off the cloak and sat down in front of the low burning embers, letting a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding go. How had the Professor known something was there? Did he know about the cloak? Did he know that it had been him?

The only creature that had ever stared directly at Harry underneath his cloak was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat. Personally, he felt it was quite more unnerving when it was a person staring at you. After a few minutes however, Harry decided that it must have been coincidence. There's no way that a regular wizard could have known he was there.

Harry felt a soft pressure at his feet and looked down to see Crookshanks rubbing up against his legs. Ever since delivering Sirius' message, the half-Kneazle had been somewhat affectionate toward him. Harry grinned and reached down, rubbing between the orange creature's ears. It purred until Harry stopped, and looked up at him before jumping up on his lap.

Harry, startled for a moment, laughed at him heartily.

"I just can't get rid of you now, can I?" Harry smiled as he began absently stroking Crookshanks again, looking back at the fireplace. The logs were glowing, and he could feel the heat coming off them in waves. Taking his glance back toward Crookshanks, he noted curiously that the half-Kneazle was staring right at him.

Suddenly Harry's vision was filled with a picture of a green field and a laughing couple. One had long, red hair and shocking green eyes, while the other sported black hair that appeared wind-swept, both laughing richly.

"Lily, why don't you invite your sister over? I'd hate for you to upset her." The woman's smile changed to an almost sad grin.

"I'm not sure she'll come... she was always a bit jealous." Her face suddenly brightened, as if recalling something splendid. "But I don't suppose it would hurt to try."

Harry blinked and found himself staring at an orange cat once more. What had just happened? Had he fallen asleep? He'd just been sitting here, staring at the fire and for no apparent reason his vision had changed. Harry's eyes widened. Wait a minute, his vision had changed!