Rising Star

Rising Star
Rating: PG-13

Description: War is upon the Magical World, for Leo and Serpens burn brightly in a Dementor darkened sky. Death stalks freely wherever it chooses, and not even the Phoenix flame burns hot enough to stop it. A thin shield stands in the way of destruction, edged in courage, intelligence, and loyalty. Dumbledore’s final task must be completed, for only then will Fate chose which star can light the future of the World.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his associated world, including characters, locations, and themes, belong to some lady in Scotland. She’s bloody rich. I have no money, so it would be pointless for her, her representatives, or her partners such as publishing companies and movie production companies, to sue me. This is not for profit. Instead, this is for fun. All props to Ms Rowling for sharing her playground with us.

Also, the chapter sub-headings (the bit in italics immediately following the chapter title) are lifted from the Star Wars, Episode III – Revenge of the Sith novelization by Matthew Strover. So no, that doesn’t belong to me either.

I think I may be safe in claiming the plot as mine. Or at least the details thereof, since the overall plot still belongs to JKR.

Author’s Note: This will follow canon as close as I can. Which means, there will be a lot of Ron-Hermione relationship interaction that I know a lot of you won’t like. Tell me about it by sending me nasty reviews.

Chapter 1
The Trio in Privet
The dark is generous.

The first thought that ran through Harry Potter’s mind as a jolt in the train’s movement woke up from his laying down position on the seat was That’s a nice arse. Nice skin, too.

Of course, as the rest of his brain woke up, he realized how completely inappropriate it was to be thinking that about his best mate’s girlfriend and his own best female friend. Assuming she and Ron really are together, of course. I think they are, but… And ow, why does my head hurt?

It was not hurting, as was common, in the lightning bolt shaped scar that made him so famous, that identified him as the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One. Instead, it hurt directly on the crown of his head, dully throbbing beneath a mop of messy black hair. It took him a second more to put it together.

Laying down on the bench in the compartment he shared with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger on the Hogwart’s Express, returning early from their sixth year at the Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, thanks to the death of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore at the hands of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Severus Snape, when the train had jolted along the tracks as it approached King’s Cross station, he had hit his head on the bulkhead. Harry sat up, adjusting his glasses, which had shifted in his sleep, and watched silently as Hermione finished reaching up onto the luggage rack and fiddling with whatever, before relaxing.

When she turned around and saw him looking at her, she gave a little jump. “Oh, I didn’t know you were awake, Harry.” Somehow, she managed to stop from flopping onto the bench beside the snoring Ron, whose head occasionally bounced against the window, throwing off his rhythm, but not waking him, to gracefully collapse into the seat beside Harry.

Hermione’s eyes were slightly red still, and a few fresh marks adorned her soft cheeks where it was obvious tears had recently flowed. Harry reached out, and drew her into a one armed embrace. “Are you okay, Hermione?”

She nodded, almost convulsively. “Harry,” she whispered after a moment, “without… without Dumble… with Dumbledore gone, how are we going to do this?”

Harry sat back against the cushion, pondering the magnitude of the task that was their Headmaster’s legacy to them. “I don’t know, but the three of us have always found a way before. We’ll do it again, as long as the three of us are together.”

The train rattled along for a few more minutes in silence before Hermione spoke again. “I’m sorry for not trusting you, Harry. About Malfoy. Ron and I… well, we should have listened. I think, this year, we just…” With a snort, Ron awoke, and Hermione abruptly pulled out of Harry’s embrace.

He shivered slightly, suddenly feeling alone, despite his best friends sitting there in the compartment with him. His best friends who were suddenly meeting each other’s eyes and looking at each other like he had ceased to exist. Emerald eyes darted back and forth as first Ron broke into a smile, and then Hermione did the same.

A little wave of nausea passed through him before Ron and Hermione broke whatever connection it was their eyes held. Harry made a note to ask Hermione later what ‘they just’ this year, and kept his tongue as Ron spoke. “Are we almost back yet?”

Harry glanced out the window. The northern outskirts of London were rolling by. “Looks like it,” he replied, then continued. “I suppose I’ll see both of you when I get to the Burrow on my birthday.” It was deliberate, of course. He could not have them with him, for this. He needed them to be safe, like Ginny and Remus and everyone else. No one else could be allowed to die for him.

This time it was Hermione who broke in. “Honestly, Harry. Both Ron and I are perfectly aware you heard what he said before we left school.”

“No, you’re not coming with me,” Harry began, almost angrily, before Ron cut him off.

“Mate, just shut up and listen for a minute. I know Dumbledore put you there for a reason, to do with protecting you or some such, but I’ve seen you when we get you every summer.” Ron’s glare was fierce. “I’m perfectly aware we pulled those bars off your window before second year. Mum’s right, too, they never seem to feed you anything, though I’ll deny it if you ever tell her I said she was.”

Hermione broke in. “Firstly, we both know the prophecy says you’re the one who has to take on Voldemort, and that Dumbledore thought you would be the best person to destroy the Horcruxes. But you’re not going to be in any shape to do that if the Dursleys lock you up for over a month and don’t feed you. Yes, you’re more powerful than either of us, but you can’t do anything legally until your birthday.” She looked at Ron. “We’ve talked. We know you have to be the hero, however much you don’t want it. So we know you’re going to protect us from Voldemort.” This second time, Harry noticed that Ron’s shudder was barely there. Hermione smiled at him. “Let us protect you from what we can, Harry. We’re your friends, and even if we can’t help you at the end, we’re going to help you get there, ready for it, as best we can.”

Harry looked at his two friends in awe. They were willing to do this for him, but this was his last chance to make them understand. To make them go. “The two of you are really the best friends anyone could ask for, but… You can’t do this.” His voice broke. “You didn’t see Dumbledore before… before…” He moved past the idea, anger building in his voice. “There was nothing he could do. He was so weak, so helpless, and he was so powerful. He was the most powerful wizard alive, and the cost of going after the ring and the locket took all of that from him. And there are four left. This quest will kill you both, I can’t risk losing you.”

To surprise, Ron and Hermione laughed, before the brunette witch pulled out a Sickle and flipped it across the compartment to Ron, who caught it easily. Hermione smiled gently at Harry. “We’re not stupid, Harry. We know the risks, and the three of us have always done better together. If you failed at this, if it killed you while you were alone, both of us would be dead anyway, even if we didn’t know you, just because of who we are – the blood traitor and the Mudblood. Both of us know that if we die and it lets you beat Him, it will have been worth it.”

Harry would have dug his heels in if it had been that kind of argument. “If either of you die, I can’t fight him. You know how bad losing Cedric was. Sirius was worse, and now Dumbledore. I’m closer to either of you than I was to even Sirius. I’ll break,” he finished with a whisper, looking at the floor.

Ron got up and knelt down in front of Harry. “Neither of us are going to die doing this, Harry. We’ll be with you all the way to the end.”

Harry shook his head again, refusing to give up. “No, you to need to explore your new relationship, to find out about yourselves together, while you still have time. I’ll be in the way.”

Hermione looked slightly pink, and Ron nearly looked purple. “Harry…” he began heatedly, though silenced when Hermione put her hand on his mouth.

“Harry, we’ll have time after you win the war.” He froze at that comment. That was the first time anyone had put it exactly like that, and she had said it without a doubt. “If necessary, Ron and I will just move slowly. Right now, you and the quest are more important than what Ron and I have.” Ron, Harry noted dully, looked slightly rebellious at that suggestion.

He was fast running out of arguments, he realized, and switched to a different tack. “The Dursleys hate just me being there. They certainly won’t allow you and Ron to stay.” It never occurred to him he was only speaking to Hermione now.

She laughed softly. “They can be dealt with, either after we get to Surrey, or in King’s Cross if they’ve actually come to pick you up early.”

Harry blinked at that. Coming back early from school, would any of the Dursleys actually be present to pick him up? He was silent for a moment as he considered that, when Hermione seemed to read his mind again, like she had always used to do before that year. “I’ll Apparate you and Ron one at a time if they aren’t present.”

Harry shook his head. “That won’t work. You’ve never been there.” Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized he was quite right. Harry grinned, breaking out of his funk, and without even realizing it, stopped arguing with them. “Muggle transport seems unsafe. Maybe we can take the Knight Bus.”

Ron and Hermione stared at him like he had lost his mind. “No way, mate,” Ron began, seemingly calmed down, and Harry could tell that the brain that mercilessly slaughtered him at chess for six years was hard at work behind his blue eyes. “When you and Dumbledore went after the locket, you mentioned that you Side-Alonged Dumbledore, and you never got in trouble. Well, Dumbledore was licensed and so is Hermione. We know they track by location, so if there is an authorized wizard, or in this case, witch, you won’t get in trouble.” Harry felt blank, and then smiled as he worked it out, but as usual, Hermione was two steps ahead of him.

“That’s brilliant, Ron. Harry can Apparate me, and then I’ll come back and get you.” Ron nodded and grinned, pleased with Hermione’s praise. Hermione continued. “The Dursleys, even if they are there, are always further away from the barrier than everyone else. So Ron and I can inform our parents, and then go with you, Harry.” Her voice went up a notch as the motion of the train suddenly changed. They were back. “We’re here. Come on,” she ordered the two boys, standing up, going back to reach for her trunk.

Ron laughed. “Hermione, stop thinking like a prefect and a Muggle.”

“And just what do you mean by that, Ronald Weasley?” she questioned sharply.

Ron took at step back and ran into the wall. “Nothing. Just…” He lifted his wand in demonstration, and with a flick, floated all their trunks down from the overhead bins. “You’re a legal witch now, Hermione. Time to start thinking like one.” Harry gripped his trunk and all the rest of his belongings as the train shuddered to a stop. Then he moved out into the corridor, and towards the door, hearing the slight banging noise of his two friends behind him.

They were the first ones off the train, and Harry stood around aimlessly in King’s Cross as he waited on his friends to rejoin him. Well, not aimlessly, anyway. He was carefully studying the situation around him, watching. Hogwarts, after all, had been far safer than the train station.

He winked at Tonks when he finally spotted her, and grinned at the dismayed expression on her face when she realized he had seen her. She walked up to him and whispered, “How did you know?”

Harry just grinned. “Your eyes. They flicked away every time I looked at you.” He felt Hermione and Ron’s approach up behind him.

“Ready to go, Harry?” Hermione asked him.

Tonks chuckled, but not unkindly. “He’s not going with you, Hermione, despite the fact the Dursleys aren’t here. I have strict instructions to take him back to Privet Drive immediately.”

Harry smiled. “Sorry, Tonks. I have other plans.”

She looked at him angrily. “Harry, no. You know the Order needs to know…”

He cut her off. “No. The Order needs to know what I tell them. This was between Dumbledore and myself.” He inclined his head towards Hermione, and saw Tonks start to move, trying to cast a shield, but it was too late. Her eyes glazed over, confuddled, and Harry turned. “Thanks. Let’s get out of here before that wears off.”

Finding an area hidden from sight was easy enough, despite the crowd in the station. “Wait here, Ron,” Hermione said. “I’ll be right back for you.” She wrapped her hands around Harry’s arm. “Let’s go.” He gave her a quick look, making sure she was, in fact, sure, and she answered his silent question. “I’m not worried, Harry. I am with you.”

Harry nodded, and breathed out slowly, then inhaled sharply. The wrenching sensation was over more quickly this time, as he blinked and found himself standing in the backyard of Number Four. Hermione released his arm almost instantly, stumbling. “That’s so different from doing it on your own.” She shook her head. “I’ll be right back with Ron.”

When she vanished with a soft pop, Harry realized two things. He had not heard the residual echo of his own apparition when he had arrived, and more importantly, the words Hermione had said to him were the exact same words Dumbledore had said to him before they had returned to Hogsmeade. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he flopped lazily into the grass. He wiped at the tears, and calmed himself slowly. When he was calm again, he realized Hermione had not returned with Ron, and he shot to his feet, recalling the hidden corner of the train station. Fortunately, just before he jumped back, Hermione and Ron appeared with a soft pop. They both looked rather flushed.

“Is everything okay?” he asked hurridly, his eyes expressing his concern.

Hermione threw an almost triumphant look at Ron, and smiled at him. “Everything’s fine, Harry.”

He wracked his brain for a moment, then came up with two questions to make sure nothing bad had happened in those five minutes. “Ron, what’s worse than death?” The two of them had joked on it enough times, but the only proper answer was one thing.

“Being expelled,” Ron answered promptly, with a sheepish glance at Hermione.

But Harry had already moved onto his other friend. “What’s more important than books and cleverness?”

Hermione’s answer was equally fast. “Friendship, bravery, and being careful.” She grinned, then turned on Ron. “I told you he would be worried something had happened to us.” Ron shrugged.

Harry smiled, glad it was his friends. “What did happen to you? What took so long?” Hermione blushed, and looked down at her toes, and Ron, amazingly, did the same thing. “Oh,” was all Harry could think of to say, the implication clear. He wondered briefly if he was ever going to get used to the idea of Ron and Hermione snogging. “Let’s go surprise the Dursleys.”

He turned around, and heard them following him as he led them in the back door, to discover a very surprised Vernon and Petunia eating dinner. His uncle recovered first. “You, boy! What are you doing back? And how dare you bring your freak friends with you in this house?”

Harry felt anger boiling up inside him, and the lights above the kitchen table blew out before he felt Hermione’s hand on his arm. “Harry,” she whispered harshly, then stepped forward to introduce herself. “Hello,” she said, sticking out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Ron Weasley. We’re going to be staying with Harry until his birthday.”

Ron had heard enough about the Dursleys that Harry knew he was sucking his breath in for the explosion that was sure to come. Harry was merely fascinated by Hermione’s calm assurance. “How dare you?” Vernon began, but Hermione’s icy voice cut him off.

“I’ll dare rather a lot, Mister Dursley. As I’m sure you know, Harry has to stay in this house for everyone’s safety, including his own.” Uncle Vernon nodded, unwillingly. “With the death of Headmaster Dumbledore, it was decided that more extensive protection was needed. Both Ron and I are of legal age in the Wizarding world, and it was concluded that having more teenagers here would attract less attention than adults living in. In the event of another attack, like the one of two years ago, it is our responsibility to protect your family and Harry until such time as proper assistance can arrive.”

Harry blinked, and looked over his shoulder to Ron, who was just as stunned as he was at Hermione’s words. Scarily, they probably made just enough sense to the Dursleys. Harry blinked again when Vernon gave in. “Alright, but…”

Hermione cut him off once more. “We will stay out of the way, we will not take up any of your limited resources, and Harry will continue to get his chores done. Ron and I will both stay in Harry’s room, so you won’t need to concern yourself with us at all.” Vernon was gaping like a fish.

“Fine,” the old man finally choked out. “Don’t bother us.” Hermione led her two boys into the house, and then walked by the stairs, her eyes flickering about in examination, producing a small frown, before turning to go up them. They followed quietly. When they got into Harry’s room, Hermione stopped dead in shock.

“I know I said we would all stay in here, but this seems a bit too small for that.” She sounded shocked, and her next words confirmed it. “I have more space than this in my room with Lavender and Parvati at school.”

Harry trooped into the room and carefully examined the layout, pushing his school gear over into the corner. “It’s an improvement over the cupboard under the stairs, so I never complained.”

Absolute silence.

Hermione slowly turned around. Her eyes really were pretty when they flashed angrily like that. “What did you just say, Harry Potter?”

“Nothing,” Harry mumbled, looking away.

“That’s good, because it sounded like you said they kept you in that little cupboard I wouldn’t put a house elf in that was under the stairs.” Harry realized playing ignorant was not going to work. “And don’t you think I heard Ron when he mentioned the bars on your window?” She sighed, and flopped down on the end of Harry’s bed. “Even with the blood protections, I can’t understand why Dumbledore put you here.”

Harry sighed, fighting off the tears at the mention of Dumbledore again. “He knew what he was doing. And I have been safe here. Never got hurt such that it took time to heal.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped open, and her wand came out. Ron barely managed to interpose himself between her and door. “Get out of the way, Ron. I can’t believe they would treat Harry like that.”

Ron reached out and pushed Hermione’s wand down. “Hermione, you just talked them into letting us stay. They have the ability to toss us out if we give them reason to. Yes, what they did to Harry was wrong, and Dumbledore was mental for thinking it was a good idea to put him here, but it’s done. In six weeks, we’ll be out of here, and Harry with us, and until then, we’ll keep him safe, just like we promised.” He grinned at Harry over Hermione’s head. “And besides, if we’re going to do something to them, don’t you think we should wait until Harry can participate?”

Hermione nodded slowly, obviously reluctant to agree, but turned around. Her wand waved back and forth as she muttered quite a few spells, and Harry and Ron watched in amazement as she enlarged the room, conjured furniture, and with a last few flicks, put all their belongings away.

“Wow,” was all Ron could get out, but Harry’s question was a bit more practical.

“How much of that have Ron and I missed by goofing off in class, and how much is seventh year?”

Hermione grinned, obviously glad to once more be on top of things. “You two haven’t missed much. It’s mostly seventh year, and complicated, though logical, expansion of stuff we learned this year. I’m sure you two could do it if you tried.”

A knock at the door frame distracted them, and they all turned around to see Aunt Petunia standing there, an expression of shock on her face, which quickly cleared when she realized they were looking expectantly at her. She addressed herself to Hermione. “Young lady, you will sleep in the guest bedroom. While you may all be freaks, we don’t need any of that in this household, do you understand?” Hermione looked blank for a second, then blushed, and Ron’s face turned bright red. Harry was the only one in position to see both of them, though he felt his own face heat with the idea. “Your kind is unnatural, but I will not tolerate any sort of unnatural, immoral behaviour between the three of you under my roof.”

Ron looked fit to burst, and Hermione was just shocked. Harry recovered first. “Don’t worry, Aunt Petunia. My girlfriend from school isn’t here, and she would not understand any unnatural behaviour between the three of us any better. I assure you, there won’t be any of that sort of immoral activities in here.”

“Your girlfriend from school…” Petunia was obviously confused, given the look she threw at Hermione. “Even still, I won’t allow a young lady to share a room with two young men. Goodness knows what you’ll get up to during the day, but at night, I can stop you.”

Harry and Ron both looked to object when Hermione held up her hand, stopping them. “Of course, Misses Dursley. I don’t wish to cause any trouble. Thank you for being so concerned with my virtue.” Harry could tell Ron was holding back laughter, just like he was, at their best friend’s prim and proper tone. “As soon as the boys are settled,” Hermione continued, “I’ll have them move my stuff to the guest room.”

Petunia nodded, and stepped back into the hallway, moving quickly. Hermione snorted. “Honestly, while I love both of you, I don’t think I would ever do that.” She shuddered, and forstalled their questions with a look. “Of course I’m not going to move. I completely trust both of you, and I don’t trust any of the Dursleys. While you two finish in here, I’ll go charm the guest room to look like I’m staying in it. Which one is it?” The last bit was directed exclusively to Harry.

“Other side of the hall, second door. The first is the bath. The other door on this side is Dudley’s. The one on the end is the master bedroom.”

Hermione nodded and vanished into the hallway when Ron spoke up. “Speaking of Dudders, where is he?”

Harry shrugged. “At a guess? Probably out with his gang. I don’t really care. I’m just glad he’s not here. He would probably not react well to you being here. I can assure you, he remembers when you all came to pick me up before fourth year.”

Ron grinned, collapsing back onto the bed Hermione had conjured for him. “Well, that was pretty funny.”

Harry sat down onto his own bed, and noticed that Hermione must have done something to it as well. It was not nearly as uncomfortable as normal. “For a few seconds, yeah. Your mum certainly didn’t think so, though.”

Shaking his head, Ron agreed. “She tore strips off the twins more than once for their antics.” He turned his head and met Harry’s eyes. “In my opinion, rarely truly deserved. They knew what they were doing, despite the dangers.”

There was silence for a moment, and Ron continued. “Do we know what we’re doing, Harry? Despite the dangers? Are we ready for this?”

Harry bit his lip, and felt his eyes hardening. “I don’t know, Ron. I do know that we don’t have a choice. This is it, everything we’ve done has led us to this, and there’s no going back.” He met Ron’s eyes with a fierce glare. “If you have any doubts, I won’t hold it against either of you if you go.”

“Honestly, Harry, I thought we had covered this already,” came the sound of Hermione’s exasperated voice as she moved back into the room, perching herself on the end of Harry’s bed since Ron well took up all the one he was stretched out on. “Ron and I will stay with you until the end, and beyond. We’ll always be your friends, nothing can change that.”

Harry smiled tightly, though he knew it would be obvious to both his friends his heart was not in it. “Of course nothing will change between the two of you and me.” The implications of his phrasing were quite clear.

Ron looked startled, and Hermione sighed, but Harry continued on without interruption. “We need something to eat.”

Ron perked up at this. “Brilliant,” he announced, and turned a speculative gaze on Hermione. Harry moved past his melancholy quickly and grinned at this.

“I have a better idea than having Hermione have to conjure a meal every time we’re hungry.”

“Thank Merlin,” he heard her mutter, before he continued.

“Dobby,” he announced calmly. Nothing happened.

Ron looked around speculatively, his raised eyebrows seeming to ask “Well?”

“Dobby. Winky. Kreacher,” Harry announced a bit more forcefully, and less than a second passed before Ron was covered in three squirming house elves, two of which appeared to beating the hell out of the third.

“Hey!” Ron shouted, making sort of a half leap, half roll off his bed, dumping the elves on the floor in the process.

“Dobby, Winky, stop!” Harry ordered. They immediately froze in place, to be kicked by Kreacher, to whom they immediately went back to pummeling. Harry had no idea what to do, so he reached out and grabbed Winky, hauling her out of the pile. Ron followed his example, separating Dobby from Kreacher, but Hermione’s response was more appropriate. She merely immobilized Kreacher with a slight wave of her wand.

“Now, children,” she began with a slight smile on her face, and a tone of voice that made both Ron and Harry cringe, “what precisely is going on here?” Her brown eyes found Dobby, and he blabbered the whole truth.

Kreacher had, once again, insulted Harry, and also had insulted the Crouches, as well as expressing delight that Dumbledore was dead, apparently. Dobby and Winky had been the closest Hogwarts elves to him. Harry set Winky on the bed, with a command of “Sit,” and then turned to Kreacher, who was looking at him through frozen eyes. “Kreacher, when Hermione unfreezes you, I want you to return to Hogwarts without saying anything, and continue as you have been, but try not to say anything in the future that would insult people.” He nodded slightly to Hermione, who canceled her charm. Kreacher immediately vanished.

Harry sighed and turned to Dobby and Winky, then grinned as he realized Ron was still holding Dobby up in the air like a small child. “You can put him down now, Ron.” His friend blinked, and carefully set Dobby on the floor. Dobby immediately tried to apologize, apparently for both defending Harry Potter sir’s honor as well as attacking Harry Potter sir’s elf. “Dobby, shush.” The elf immediately fell silent, and Harry could feel Hermione’s disapproving gaze on the back of his head. He turned back to Winky. “I’m sorry for calling you here as well. You can return to Hogwarts if you want.” She nodded silently and vanished.

Turning once more to Dobby, Harry sighed. “Dobby, I have a business proposition for you.” The short little humanoid cocked his head sideways, his tennis ball like eyes begging Harry to continue. “Ron, Hermione and I are going to be staying here for the next few weeks, and none of us is particularly good at cooking spells and we’ve agreed not to use the Dursleys food. I’d like you to cook for us.” Dobby looked like he was about to speak but Harry cut him off by raising his hand. “Now, how much do you think I should pay you for this?”

“Dobby could do more for Harry Potter sir than just cook. Dobby could wash clothes for Harry Potter sir and Harry Potter’s Wheezy, and Winky could wash things Dobby is not allowed to mention for Harry Potter’s Miss.” Ron and Hermione turned bright red at the last, and Harry wondered if it was the identification as his of Hermione or the mention of her unmentionables that did it. To be fair to the elf, she was sitting on his bed. Harry glanced at Hermione to see what she thought.

“As much as I hate to abuse him,” she began, “he could be extremely useful. Your uncle did say he would expect you to keep doing your chores.” Harry refrained from interrupting to point out that Hermione had actually told Uncle Vernon he would do his chores. “Dobby could get them all done, along with our mechanics of living, and leave us free to concentrate on other things.”

Harry nodded, and turned back. Ron obviously had no problem with the idea. Harry met Dobby’s eyes. “Alright, I’ll employ you as a house elf at two,” a cough from Hermione, “three Galleons a week.” Another cough. “With Sundays off.”

Dobby looked ready to faint. “It is too much for Dobby, Harry Potter sir.”

Harry shook his head. “No, Dobby. It is what I want you to do.” His understanding of the house elf’s psychology came in brutally handy at that moment, and Dobby nodded.

“Of course, Harry Potter sir. Dobby will get started on dinner right away. What would Harry Potter sir and his friends like?” The little elf looked around expectantly to each of them in turn, craning his neck something horrible to look up at Ron towering behind him.

Harry glanced around. “It’s been a long day, Dobby. Something light, I think,” this time it was Ron who coughed, and Harry grinned, meeting Hermione’s eyes and getting her grin in return. “Something light for Hermione and myself, along with a regular dinner for Ron the Human Bottomless Pit here.”

Dobby nodded and blurred out oddly, zooming around the room. Dinner was ready in minutes, along with lap trays for the three of them, so they ate in companionable silence. Wizard’s chess was an after dinner activity for Harry and Ron, while Hermione curled up on Ron’s bed this time with a book, occasionally glancing up at the game, then the second, then the third, when one of them spoke. Harry had the pants beat off him each time, and it really was quite late by the time Hermione finished her book.

She puttered about for a few minutes in the room while Harry and Ron set up for a fourth game, then nipped out to go to the bathroom to change into her pajamas. Harry acknowledged her words with a nod, Ron, with nothing, concentrating on his move.

At some point or another, Harry realized five minutes later, they had missed Dudley coming home. But it was immediately clear he was when “Mum, Harry’s freak girlfriend is pointing her stick at me!” rang out through the house.

The chess board went flying as both Harry and Ron flew to the door, wands drawn, to discover Dudley cowering on the floor beneath an icy glare from an enraged Hermione, whose pajamas were askew. Petunia’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Leave her alone, Dudley dear, please. We don’t need to go to the hospital again.”

“Apologize to Hermione for whatever it was you did, Dudley,” Harry growled, taking two steps forward, Ron a half step behind him on the other side of the hallway, keeping Harry clear of his line of fire.

“Sorry,” Dudley sputtered out, then picked himself up off the floor, scampering back into his room. Hermione huffed, and straightened out her clothing, slipping her wand back into sleeve after casting a locking charm on the door to the room she was supposedly staying in.

Harry and Ron continued to glare at Dudley’s closed door for a second, and finally put away their wands as Hermione herded them back into Harry’s room. Once they were all back inside, Harry closed the door, and Ron waved his wand, locking it as well. Hermione was sitting on the bed claimed by Ron earlier, looking a little put out by something. “What did Dudley do, Hermione?” Harry asked, going straight to the point.

She avoided the question. “Harry, is there something wrong with me and Ron’s relationship?” Ron made a sound suspiciously like a squawk and she smiled fondly at him. “It’s just that your Aunt, Dobby, and now Dudley have all assumed I’m your girlfriend. None of them seem to have thought about me being with Ron.”

Harry squelched the nasty feeling that rose up inside him at her last phrase, and then looked thoughtful. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you two. Dudley didn’t know Ron was here. And you were on my bed when Dobby came in.” Why did Aunt Petunia assume, though, I wonder? He had no answer for that. He looked at Ron, who merely shrugged, then repeated his question. “What did Dudley do that made you pull your wand on him, Hermione?”

She smiled sheepishly. “He made a lewd comment to the idea that when you were finished and I wasn’t satisfied, I should come to his room to find out how a real man conducts business.” Ron shot away from the wall, his wand once more in his hand as he moved towards the door. “Calm down, Ron.” Harry chuckled at the obvious disdain and amusement in Hermione’s voice as she described Dudley’s actions, only to have it die away at her next words. “Then he tried to touch me.” Rage boiled up inside him, an uncontrollable monster, and he leapt to his feet, obviously intent on following Ron, but her voice cracked like a whip. “Sit down, both of you.” When they were slow to respond, she continued. “NOW!” They sat. “I’m fine, he’s scared now and nothing happened, so both of you can leave off it.” She flipped back the covers and crawled under them. “I’m going to sleep. I suggest you two do the same. We have a lot to discuss tomorrow.” Her brown eyes closed.

Ron spoke up. “Uh, Hermione, I was, uh, actually going to sleep there.”

She never opened her eyes. “Don’t even think about joining me, Ronald Weasley. There are three beds, go use the other one.”

Harry grinned at Ron, and shrugged, gesturing to the bed farthest from his own. A few minutes later, he and Ron had stripped down to sleeping gear, and the lights were out, with them each tucked securely into their own beds. “Good night, Ron. Good night, Hermione.”

“Night, mate,” came back the response from Ron. Nothing came from the already sleeping girl on the bed between them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry was never sure exactly which sound it was that woke him, but it hardly mattered as he rolled out of the bed, away from the window, blindly firing off a silent petrification jinx as he did so, then popping up to cast a wordless summoning and banishing on Ron and Hermione respectively, holding it only long enough to dump the two of them on the floor between their beds, covering them from anyone near the window. Their cries were muffled as they fell, but Harry was already bringing up the lights.

“Harry, what’s going on?”

“What’s the meaning of this, mate?”

“Professor?” All three teens were startled, but Harry rushed over and waved his wand, freeing Remus Lupin from his jinx. “Sorry.” The jinx was back on a second later. “Why did Tonks’ Patronus change, what is it, and when did it change?”

Remus glared at Harry. “Because she fell in love with me, a wolf, and about a week after Sirius died.” Harry let him go. By this point, Ron and Hermione were standing there, wands out.

“What are you doing here, Professor Lupin?” Hermione questioned, the picture of calm, as if she had not just been awakened in the middle of the night by a werewolf climbing in her bedroom window.

He glared at the three of them. “Tonks’ end of shift report was late, and it took us almost an hour to find her in Muggle London. You didn’t have to make the Confundment last so long. The Ministry is all over the place trying to sort out how many people saw her doing magic. I came to check on Harry when we discovered Tonks had no idea where you were.”

Ron grinned sleepily. “You could have asked my parents. They knew.”

Harry picked up the tale. “Tonks did not appear to be being helpful back in King’s Cross with getting us all here, so we came on our own. Hermione Side-Alonged with both of us.” Well, mostly the truth.

Remus fell for it, despite having been a Marauder. “Well, as long as the three of you know what it is you’re doing, I’ll be watching outside, then.” He padded silently over to the window, then looked back, the rebuke gone from his eyes, replaced by concern. “Don’t scare us like that again.” Then he was gone, and the three friends looked around. Ron firmly shut the window.

“No more visitors tonight. I’m bloody tired. Let’s get back to sleep.”

So they did.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dobby apparently decided they had had enough sleep, Harry realized, when the smell of breakfast awoke him early the next morning. It was not yet full light, so that meant it had to be early, considering it was late in June. Harry groaned. “Dobby, it’s not time to get up yet.”

“Oh, but it is.” The voice was not Dobby’s. Hermione continued. “Honestly, how you and Ron expect to get anything done if you don’t get up early is beyond me.” Harry fumbled for his glasses, then looked at the clock.

“Hermione, it’s five in the bloody morning. I’m sure we can get plenty done today without waking up before the sun.” He yawned widely, then finally saw the smell that had awakened him. Dobby was standing by with their lap trays from the night before, this time covered in heaping mounds of breakfast food. Well, two of them were, anyways. The third, balanced on the elf’s head and wide ears, was much less so. It was obvious which was Hermione’s.

Harry sat up, rubbing his head, and Hermione moved away as Dobby presented him with food. Breakfast in bed was a new experience for him, so Harry said nothing else and tucked in, while he watched Hermione try to wake Ron.

She shook his shoulder. “Wake up, Ronald.” Ron made a noise of disagreement and rolled away. She shook his other shoulder. “Ron, wake up.” Her voice was harsher this time. So was his response.

“Don’t wanna get up yet, mum.”

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione said sharply. Still he did not wake completely, and rolled over again, muttering something that turned Hermione’s face red that Harry did not catch completely. She hit his shoulder. “Ronald! You will not use such language in my presence!” She jerked Ron’s covers off him.

“Hey!” he shouted, sitting up, before realizing he was in nothing but his boxers and grabbing for the sheet again.

Harry heard the amusement in Hermione’s voice. “Honestly, Ron. You would think I didn’t know what you and Harry looked like without your shirts on.” Harry blinked.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” came Ron’s response. Hermione can look at me without my shirt on any time she wants. Woah, where did that come from? Harry shook his head briefly to clear it, then returned to his food.

“Your food is getting cold,” Hermione said, before moving back to her own bed and beginning to eat. She and Harry watched as they worked their way through their food while Ron struggled to find all of his consciousness. Even with a late start, the redhead still managed to finish eating before them, shoveling food into his mouth at his normal pace. Hermione merely shook her head as she watched Ron, and returned to eating daintly.

It was an hour or so later when they were all dressed and ready for the day. Over Ron’s arguments and at Hermione’s suggestion, Harry made breakfast for the Dursleys. They had still been bickering about it when he left his room. Now that Vernon had gone to work, Dudley to school, and Petunia had gone ‘out’, Harry was finally alone and looked at the list of chores they had presented him with.

Ron looked over his shoulder. “It’s a good thing you hired Dobby to do more than cook,” he said, which, in turn, attracted Hermione’s attention. And wrath.

“Honestly, just because he’s hired him, doesn’t mean he has to work him to death,” she said after looking over Harry’s shoulder at the list as well. “We know some spells that can help take care of these.”

Harry chuckled. “I won’t have him do everything. The three of us will paint the back of the house, without magic, while we have our discussion.” He tore off the part of the list labeled “Do today.” “Dobby.” The house elf was immediately standing before him, about to speak, when Harry continued. “Will you get these things done for us?”

Dobby vanished with a very soft pop after nodding. Which was when Ron spoke up, surprised. “We’re going to paint the back of the house without magic?”

Hermione sighed again, and Harry briefly wondered if all they ever did was argue. Of course they don’t. They’re together. They must, snog, or something, sometime. And I’m sure they must get along. Maybe it’s just me. “Honestly, Ron, it’s a Muggle neighborhood. It may be legal for us to do magic, but that still doesn’t make it legal to go flashing it in Muggle’s faces. Besides, we don’t need to attract any more attention than we have to.”

Which was how, three and a half hours after waking, Harry found himself climbing up a ladder to do detail work around the back windows while Ron and Hermione concentrated on painting lower down. Well, while Hermione concentrated on showing Ron how to use a paint roller. Pretty soon they were all painting, though Ron and Hermione had entirely more paint on themselves than was strictly necessary.

Which was, admittedly, because Harry had dumped paint on them to diffuse yet another argument over Ron trying to use his wand to charm the paint roller to work on its own, since as long as the grip of the handle stayed below the fence, no one would notice anything. Unwilling to put up with yet another argument, Harry had just dumped his can of paint over on them, getting it all over them, but making both of them mad at him instead, but it was a playful sort of mad. While they all knew they needed to have a discussion about their plan, they did not discuss it at all.

Instead, as they worked the morning away, they discussed, intelligently, Quidditch. Hermione had learned a lot about the game, even moreso following one of Ginny’s particularly spiteful comments during the school year, and knew enough about what was going on to discuss it when Harry and Ron did. Hermione then told them about the book she had been reading on the history of magical warfare. It was apparent that for the last thousand years, the primary cause of magical warfare, at least in Britain and the rest of Europe, had been the purity of blood. Well, other than Professor Binns favorite staple of goblin rebellions.

None of them needed it spelled out what had happened a thousand years before to cause that. Even Ron was not that dense.

By lunch time, the three sat in the Dursleys’ kitchen, watching the television set up in there while the ate the lunch Dobby had provided, when it came to a commercial and Hermione flipped it to a news channel she routinely watched at home.

What they saw stunned them.

The ambulances were seated at the entryways to the London Underground, its distinctive red circle and bar signs almost crying out. Except they were not being used as ambulances. They were being used a morgue lorries. The voice of the announcer overlaid the scene. “As we have been reporting since the early morning rush, the death toll for the massive wave of terrorist attacks keeps growing. So far, an estimated thirty trains were attacked with an odd type of nerve agent which rendered all souls aboard them completely catatonic, including the drivers, which ended in predictable, and gruesome, results. Between the destroyed trains and the derailments, the death toll is estimated to be approaching ten thousand, with over four thousand already extracted from the rubble. Scotland Yard reports that the people confirmed as survivors from the trains themselves are technically alive, but respond to no outside stimuli, and are merely frozen with an expression of extreme horror on their faces. So far, no terrorist group has claimed responsibility for…”

Harry’s snarl saw the television turn off, and it looked to him like his friends were surprised it did not just explode on the spot. “Dementors,” he spat angrily.

“Of course,” Hermione breathed. “It’s a rather brilliant use of them, really. Hundreds of people, trapped in an enclosed space, plus the damage from when the trains went out of control.”

Harry was spinning his wand in his fingers, feeling completely furious. “He attacked those people, Muggles, completely defenseless, just to show how powerful he was.” He slammed his hand down on the table. “We don’t have time to waste now. We have to find the Horcruxes now, and destroy them. Now.”

“This is too important to just rush out there, Harry,” Ron said cautiously, as if expecting an explosion. A year before, he would have gotten one, too.

Nodding, Harry acknowledged Ron’s point. “True.” He pushed back violently from the table and lifted his wand, but Hermione beat him, summoning quill and parchment for the three of them. He smiled. “Thanks.” He turned his gaze on Ron. “Alright, Ron. You’re the chess master and the strategist, what do you think?”

He reflected, as he said it, that it could have come out sarcastically, but it did not. Maybe they were all growing up. Ron looked sheepishly at Hermione, then said, “Well, the first thing to do is learn everything we possibly can about Horcruxes. Even if there is nothing about how they are destroyed, You-Know-Who had to learn how to make them somewhere, which means that Hermione can find it.” Both boys smiled at their brilliant friend, who blushed very prettily. “Unmaking one may be as simple as that. Also, we need to find out where He could have hidden them, and figure out how to get to them. We need every bit of information we have about Him, too.”

Hermione smiled excitedly. “We need a Penseive, and the three of us will go in and look at everything, maybe more than once, to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

Ron gaped at her. “Uh, you do realize what you just asked Harry to do, right?”

Harry knew his expression was not any better. If anything, he felt completely cold inside. Hermione was speaking quickly, but he barely heard as he stood up, pushing away from the table. “Harry, wait. Harry, I’m sorry, I should have thought…”

He wheeled angrily. “Damn right you should have thought! You want me to relive every single time I’ve faced him, every time I’ve talked with Dumbledore about him, everything Dumbledore showed me, what happened the night Dumbledore d… the night Dumbledore and I were in that cave!” The lights in the ceiling blew out again. “Ron’s right. You are abso-fucking-lutely mental.” He turned away from his shocked friends. “I’m going to finish the painting. Alone.”

He slammed the back door on the way out, breaking the glass. He heard two whispered repairing charms before he got too far away. He sat down on the lower steps of the ladder, hard, and could feel the tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the paint already located there.

Dumbledore was gone, well and truly, just like his parents and Sirius and Cedric. All because of some stupid prophecy. All because they had died to keep Harry safe. Eventually, he got up and began to paint. He did not stop until it became dark, despite hearing Ron and Hermione inside his room, and in the back garden, trying to talk with him. He did not stop when he saw them in the window, eating dinner, Ron cuddling Hermione on Harry’s bed, which admittedly, only made him angrier. The paint was cleared up and the ladder even put away by the time the sun went down, and Harry realized something over the course of the afternoon.

As always, Hermione was right. No matter how much he tried to make it not so, it happened anyways. He was going to have to share the memories.

He stood in his doorway for a moment, watching Ron and Hermione kiss, wondering this time, without anger, why they were using his bed for that. Of course, just watching them go at it like they were was disturbing enough for him, and he shuddered. Unable to take it, he spoke, and they leapt apart at the sound of his voice. “We need a Pensieve.”

Hermione smiled tentatively at him, and Ron watched him carefully as he continued. “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier, I just… I don’t want to go through all that again.”

Hermione’s hug was as bone crushing as usual. “I’m sorry too, Harry. I should have thought about reliving all that would mean to you, how horrible it would be.” She smiled sheepishly at him. “Ron and I wrote McGonagall a letter, though she might listen more if it came from all three of us.” Harry skimmed through it, noting that despite ‘Ron’ writing it, the only place his handwriting appeared at all was in the signature block, where Harry added his own, before beckoning Hedwig over to him.

After he strapped the message to her, the owl gave him an affection peck on the finger before flying away. He did not say anything through all this, but then his stomach rumbled, and Ron laughed, and then Harry laughed, and then Hermione joined them, and they laughed and laughed at the most simple things, until none of them were really sure why they were laughing any more. “Is there any more food, or did you eat it all, Ron?” Harry asked a while later.

Hermione hopped up and got it, performing a quick heating charm, and he smiled gratefully at her. He ate in silence, his friends watching him, Ron still sitting on Harry’s bed, next to the dark haired boy, and Hermione sitting across from them on her own middle bed. It seemed most of their meals were silent these days. Quick, and silent, as if they were running out of time, and slowing down their refueling might cost them something dear. But they never ate any faster than normal.

Then Harry began to talk, and neither Ron nor Hermione moved from where they sat, though a few times Harry sensed that the bushy-haired witch wanted to get a quill and parchment from the desk, but slight movements from Ron seemed to quell her. He told them everything, starting at the very beginning, the flashes that the Dementors called up of that fateful Halloween night so many years before, and he detailed everything he had seen or heard or discussed with Dumbledore following his many encounters with the Dark Lord. He redetailed to them the memories he had watched with Dumbledore, and every scrap of information let slip. Then he went over what happened that last night, the night Dumbledore died. Hours later, he concluded lamely, “That’s it, as best I can remember it. Without a Pensieve, anyways.”

“We’ll get one, Harry,” Hermione said softly while placing her hand on his, “and Ron and I will go in without you, if you want.”

Harry felt the reassuring weight of Ron’s hand on top of both of theirs. “Of course we will, mate. Don’t we always find a way when we trust each other and work together?” He smiled at them. “But since, thanks to Hermione here, the three of us have been up for just over twenty-three hours, it is my recommendation as strategist and chess mastermind that we get some more sleep. We can decide on what to do about this tomorrow.”

Harry and Hermione nodded, and they all went to bed, the first day of their quest behind them.

Fawkes arrived some time around noon, waking the three teens, clasping Dumbledore’s Pensieve in his talons and carrying a note from the Headmistress explaining firstly that Dumbledore wanted Harry to have this if anything were to have happened to him, and second, how to use it, specifically, extracting memories. To practice, they each one worked on extracting the memory of the first train ride to Hogwarts. Typically, Hermione got it on her first try. Harry got it on his third, and Ron, his fourth. After that, there was no stopping them, and Harry unloaded all the memories he had discussed with them the night before into the Pensive, where they looked at each one in turn, each of them carrying parchment and a quill to take notes on what they saw.

That night, they talked as they ate dinner. Ron started them off. “Well, I think a couple of things are clear. Obviously, we know next to nothing about what we are dealing with. Second, it is scarily obvious that Dumbledore possessed combat and other skills we do not, and were not going to learn in school, that we are going to need to do this. Third, Harry, Hermione, you two need to start thinking like wizards. Under pressure, the magic comes to you, and you know just what to do, but it is not natural all the time. You-Know-Who has been immersed in magic for fifty years, and you, Harry, especially, are going to have to be like that, because this really is up to you.”

Hermione and Harry nodded, obviously agreeing with Ron’s broad outline of points. Hermione was next. “Firstly, while I exhausted the library at school last year, we have another resource at our disposal that probably has even more books that are about dark magic.”

Harry’s eyes lit up, realizing there was a use for it. “Grimmauld Place.”

She nodded. “Precisely. I don’t know if you and Ron ever paid any attention to it, but the library there is nearly as large as the one at Hogwarts.” Harry knew his face was holding an expression of surprise equal to Ron’s. Hermione continued. “The Order is obviously the best place we have for learning magical combat, but what Dumbledore did in that cave… I’ve read about people doing that, but never how.” She frowned, and Ron smiled, obviously delighted to have the answer.

“Bill knows. Remember, he’s a cursebreaker for Gringotts. They pay him to do the kind of thing Dumbledore was doing, which means he must be good at it.”

Harry nodded slowly. “What about Hermione and I learning to breathe magic? How will we do that?”

Ron frowned in the same manner Harry had witnessed two nights before, considering his chess moves. “You can’t, yet. Not until you’re of age. Hermione can start now, though I suppose you can work on the mindset, Harry. You have to think like a wizard, not a Muggle who can perform some neat tricks.” He closed his eyes, and slowly waved his wand in midair, scribing three complete circles. Three red fabric bracelets fell to the floor, and Harry picked one up, and read the four letters in gold on them.

“WWDD?”

“I know it’s hard, Harry,” Ron said, “but… What would Dumbledore do?”

Harry swallowed. “That’s… brilliant, mate.” He slipped it onto his wrist, and watched silently as his two friends did the same, refusing to cry this time.

A moment passed in silence before Hermione spoke again. “These are my notes.” She spread four sheets of parchment out on her bed in such a way they formed a map of sorts – maybe a chart. It did look like something from a Transfiguration text. Studying it for a bit, Harry nodded.

“Good job, Hermione.”

She beamed at him. “I hope all these connections make sense.” At his nod, she continued. “I think the first thing we ought to do is try to find out more about the Horcruxes, though.”

Harry nodded. “Which means going back to Grimmauld Place.” He smiled. “First though, we promised the Dursleys all the chores would be done, so tomorrow we finish that, and however long it takes. We’ll get Dobby to help us, and we’ll all use magic. The Ministry can’t track me now that you are both here, and frankly, the Minister does not want me any madder at him. Anything these Muggles can come up with will be done by the end of the week.” Ron and Hermione nodded at Harry’s directions, once more letting him decide, as the unconsciously recognized leader. Harry smiled. “Let’s get some more sleep, and we’ll start early tomorrow. I want to be out of here by the weekend.”