Harry Potter and Ill Fated Karma
by runningidiot

Rating: PG
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 6
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance
Status: Abandoned
Length: 12,318 words in 4 chapters
Published: 14 Mar 2006
Last updated: 12 Jun 2006

After the events of their sixth year, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off to find the last Horcruxes. Though, with the help
of our friend karma, they will all discover multiple things that will forever change the world. CHAPTER FOUR PREVIEW:
“I’ve got breakfast going….” Both Harry and Ron wheeled around to see Hermione wearing an astonishingly pink apron with
multiple white flowers floating around it. Harry recognized it as one of his Aunt’s cooking aprons and he smiled at the
thought of her reeling at the realization that someone she considered inferior wearing it. Yet as he followed the
bickering pair into the kitchen (yes they had conjured up an argument that quickly) he couldn’t help thinking how anyone
could feel that Hermione Granger was inferior to them.

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/5848/

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1. Scrimy Governors

Harry Potter and Karma

Summary:

After the events of Harry's sixth year, the Boy-who-lived sets off with his two friends to find the last Horcruxes. What
they find with them, is up to our friend karma.

Disclaimer:

Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I, Runningidiot, own nothing from this story, and do not
plan on making any sort of profit by selling. I do not intend to make a mockery of the epic tale of Harry James Potter,
but I continue to write H.P fanfiction for the mere enjoyment of it.

Rating:

Pg - though it has a chance of rising … dramatically.

Author's Note:

I can't get ANYWHERE with any of my other fics…. The ideas are there … they just simply … refuse to come out onto the
computer ^_^. So I give you this, my full length year seven fic.

Chapter One:

Scrimy Governors

Kingsley Shacklebolt admitted it at last. Nymphadora Tonks was simply a genius. Not only was she a fantastic Auror and
Witch and she had the ability to create a plentiful of humour even in the aftermath of Albus Dumbledore's death, but she
came up with, simply, the best nicknames. With a snort of laughter that attracted the attention of a couple of chubby
looking wizards who were discussing Merlin-knows-what, Kingsley recalled the occurrence of Tonks naming the new minister
of magic, who's name, as she put, was quite a mouthful.

The legendary Order of the Phoenix was meeting right after their previous leader's death. Organized and chaired by fair
Minerva McGonagall, she broke the news to all of us, only to be replied with several resounding crashes. A lawer (or
whatever you call them, defenders of justice apparently in the Muggle world) who was listening to McGonagall beside
Kingsley dropped his glass of red wine as well.

“The first thing we should do.” McGonagall shouted, gaining the attention of all of those who were despairing. “Is elect
a new leader, without one; we are truly disbanded. I recall Albus explaining to me, that Fawkes, his pet Phoenix, would
present himself to the new leader when his or her time comes. Until then, I am assuming leadership-”

This in turn was replied with shouts from multiple people.

“Why should she?!”

“McGonagall?! That old bat?!”

“Wish I could have got pumpkin juice instead of this wine….” Remus Lupin muttered from beside Kingsley. The bald Auror
smiled at him slightly, Lupin promptly tossed the glass away, not caring that it shattered into multiple pieces once it
contacted the table most of the Order was situated near. He ran a hand through his long, faded, brown hair and snorted
at Kingsley. “Acting like a bunch of Death Eaters aren't we?”

Kingsley shook his head, looking at the floor. “You're getting to be more like Sirius everyday, Remus. It amazes me.”

“Yeah well, seven years tends to help friendships grow.” Lupin smiled at Kingsley, looking back at McGonagall, who was
fishing for the attention of everyone.

“I - I will take questions after I present t-” McGonagall shouted.

“Now wait just a moment!” A random member roared out of turn. “Did Dumbledore wish for you t-”

“Yes.” McGonagall answered sharply, knowing the question before he finished verbalizing it. Silence once again appeared
in the small basement they were meeting in, after all; Grimmauld Place was rather dangerous to go to now, what with no
Fidelius charm to protect it anymore. “Yes, Albus said I would assume leadership until the true leader is elected. He
also told me, to inform you all that … that…”

Lupin narrowed his eyes and Kingsley removed his glasses, preparing for the worst.

“We are to continue fighting against You-know … oh codswallop, Voldemort-” she was interrupted by multiple frightened
noises which both Kingsley and Lupin ignored - “even if the Ministry forbids us to act or even if we're without a true
leader. I - I quote from Albus himself….” McGonagall fished through some loose pieces of parchment she laid on the table
in front of her. With a cry of frustration, which signalled that she couldn't find the exact piece of parchment she was
looking for, Kingsley realized that this was the first time he had ever seen McGonagall disorganized and flustered.

“You know something's up when McGonagall's acting like this….” Lupin muttered to himself, seemingly reading Kingsley's
mind and running another hand through his mopped up hair.

“You know something else?” Tonks said brightly from behind both Kingsley and Lupin, startling not only them, but the
lawer as well, he promptly trotted elsewhere and Tonks took no notice of it, plopping herself next to Remus. “If you
keep muttering, you'll soon become the next House Elf of Great ol' place.”

Kingsley chuckled at the intended pun as Tonks swung one arm around Lupin's neck and helped herself to a nearby glass of
red wine which someone left unattended. Though, McGonagall soon recovered, signalling the return to her speech.

“What … what Albus wishes us all to do right now is regroup and … and well.” McGonagall lowered herself from her
standing position and into a slumped one as she sank dishearteningly into her chair. “Go onto the defensive, let Vol …
Voldemort make the first move.”

This was echoed by silence, until yet another seemingly moronic howler yelled out, “isn't that what we've always done?!”
Kingsley sighed, rising from his seat, surprising Lupin.

“No, no it is not, Irving.” He congratulated himself on his usually non-existent memory of faces. “You expect us to
charge in on some stupid revenge ploy? Dumbledore died, not in battle, not with honour, but shame. He was lured by the
most devious person I have ever met, and killed, saving another life while at it. Just like the ol' Dumbledore eh?” Some
hearty cheers could be heard after Kingsley's comment.

Clearing his throat, the Auror continued. “One death isn't going to change us, I - I think that is what Minerva was
attempting to say -” The battered Transfiguration teacher smiled at him, silently thanking him, “- was that Albus wished
for us to go on, but wait for a replacement. He or she will guide us further from there.” Kingsley sat back down,
ignoring the abundant applause and helping himself to more wine.

“Quite the speech Kingly!” Tonks said perkily and he smiled slightly at her, remembering her nickname for him. “You
know, I'm really liking these nicknames I've given to people. I owe Sirius more then I would like, you know.

“First there's Moony,” she kissed Lupin's cheek heartedly, beaming at the blush on the werewolf's face. “Then Kingly,
Erva, Potter, `Mione, Wonny, Chocolate….”

Lupin cocked his head in confusion. “Chocolate? You mean Fudge…?” Tonks nodded profoundly. “Er … Nymph, aren't you
trying to shorten peoples' names?”

Tonks merely shrugged, kissing Lupin once again. “It seemed like a good idea at the time!”

Kingsley detached himself from the two lovers' conversation and tuned himself to the more relevant one, “- and we will
wait till we hear from the Ministry for news on recent Death Eater activity, many of our spies have been apprehended by
Death Eaters, we assume, since we had no news whatsoever on Draco Malfoy's plan to murder Albus. Scrimgeour apparently
is willing to fully cooperate with the Order now that Albus has … has, well, moved on.”

Maybe it was the sadness of the fact that the legendary Albus Dumbledore was never coming back that made Kingsley ask,
as Remus called her, Nymph what her nickname for Scrimgeour was. Though He didn't really know what he blurted out until
he asked it fully.

“Oh, I simply adored it. Since Scrimgower is … well, you know, quite a mouthful. I call him Scrimy!”

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the usually serious and brawny hearted Auror, had never laughed so hard in his life before that
moment.

Chuckling at the memory for the tenth time since Tonks had informed both Lupin and Kingsley of her nickname, the Auror
noticed that the meeting was starting, he straightened his stance and extracted his wand from his back pocket (how
Mad-eye would love that) he took his extreme guard position.

“Shacklebolt….” Kingsley pretended not to be startled by this new voice from his right side, maintaining his guard
position, he stared forward blankly. “Aren't you supposed to be guarding the Muggle Prime Minister?”

“Ahh … the wonders of Polyjuice,” another voice said from, Kingsley assumed, beside the first newcomer. “I bet someone
else is guarding him with the effects of Polyjuice, of course, Muggles won't know the difference.”

“Ah! Edgar, are you sure? Could you have it mixed up?”

Kingsley was getting quite annoyed by this discussion of whether or not he was fake or real. “It matters not who I am,
Sir Condal and Sir Bones, but I am here, keeping watch over you and all of the School Governors so please take your
seat; the meeting is about to start.”

Grumbling, both men went off, “quite a fine choice I must say, Edgar. After all, Shacklebolt is one of the best Aurors
in the Ministry at the moment.” Kingsley paid it no mind, for his attention was attracted by many, if not all, of the
School Governors rising out of their seats to address their superior. Dolores Umbridge.

Kingsley frowned at the entrance of, as Harry and his two friends called her, the toad. One would think that she had
caused enough trouble at Hogwarts, but now Scrimy had appointed her to the post of head of School Governors. Sure, she
was headmistress for almost half a year and head of the seemingly legendary Inquisitorial Squad, but really….

“Hem hem…” Kingsley Shacklebolt shivered slightly at the sound of her clearing her throat. Or at least attempting to,
for not even Merlin would know what foul stuff eroded her throat. “Let the meeting begin…. With the death of Albus
Dumbledore, we at the Ministry believe the school, which many of us enjoyed attending, is now quite unsafe. All of dear
Dumbledore's protections have now vanished from the school; Muggles are turning up there, wondering why they have never
seen the castle or the village before….

“The purpose of this meeting is to come to a decision as to whether or not the school will open again. Hem hem, the
Ministry feels that Dumbledore did not prove himself to be a great headmas-” roars of disapproval came from all around
the room, even the School Governors (the chubby grey haired men all situated around Umbridge) had trouble concealing
their displeasure. “- and that if we all decide to reopen the school, we are recommended to find a more … hem hem
suitable, headmaster or headmistress.”

“Dumbledore was the best we could ever get!” Edgar Bones shouted from the far side of the room. “You want to get another
Slytherin Nigellius?! Ha, that'll be the day! We'll see Hogwarts turn to the You-know-who's side if we get someone like
that!” Multiple protests and shouts came from all sides of the small room at this remark.

Kingsley pointed his wand into the air, lazily waving it around to release a loud, gunshot, noise which created silence
instantly. “Please continue Miss Umbridge.”

“Thank you Mr. Shacklebolt. Hem hem….” She fished around through some pieces of parchment, adjusting her glasses so that
they sat on the edge of her nose. “How many object to … Minerva McGonagall inheriting the title of …” it seemed Umbridge
was having difficulty seeing McGonagall as the next head of Hogwarts, could it be jealously. Kingsley smiled, sensing
Tonks's input on the matter. “Headmistress from the late Albus Dumbledore?”

No hands were raised. “V - Very well, if the school were to reopen, Minerva McGonagall would be the next Headmistress.
Hem hem…. Now onto the matter of whether or not the school will reopen. Does anyone object to the reopening of Hogwarts
school of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

Several hands rose, lots actually Kingsley observed. Umbridge proceeded to count, once she was finished, she frowned
quite profoundly. “Eighteen…. And there are thirty seven people. Hem hem, the majority of Ministry members vote that …
that Hogwarts will reopen once more.”

And so Kingsley left to report back to the Order with a smile on his face and the many cheers echoing Umbridge's
decision still screaming in his ears.

Author's Note:

Well? Review with criticism and/or opinions please!

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2. A Token of Unnaturalness

Harry Potter and Ill fated Karma

Summary:

After the events of Harry's sixth year, the Boy-who-lived sets off with his two friends to find the last Horcruxes.
Though with the help of our friend karma, they will all discover multiple things that will forever change the world
around all three of them.

Disclaimer:

Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I, Runningidiot, own nothing from this story, and do not
plan on making any sort of profit by selling. I do not intend to make a mockery of the epic tale of Harry James Potter,
but I continue to write H.P fanfiction for the mere enjoyment of it.

Rating:

Pg 13 - for strong language

Chapter Two:

A Token of Unnaturalness

The narrow path of the chosen one
reaches beyond life
I set sail for the ageless winds
No fear of dying or thought of surrender

Token of Time - Ensiferum

Even after a sleepless day, Harry Potter could find no slumber. Familiar, but rather unpleasant, memories of the past
would always consume his mind whenever he shut his eyes, replacing the present with the past. Though Harry didn't always
see Dumbledore tumbling down through the night air from the Astronomy Tower, sometimes Dumbledore would be replaced with
Ginny, Ron or even Hermione to his surprise, other times he'd envision his family, scolding him on failures. Because of
these nightmares, Harry rarely slept more than an hour during a day.

Harry rolled over, attempting to find the spot on his bed. He flipped his pillow over, relishing the cold feel of it. He
shut his emerald eyes, his pet owl disappearing from his line of sight. Only to be replaced with a still image. A
photograph it seemed. The image was of, Harry suspected, Hogwarts, but the amount of flames covering it made it look
more like a slaughter house then anything. The Boy-who-lived began to hear screams, pleas for assistance. Then a roaring
voice rang into ears as if Uncle Vernon himself was yelling at the top of his lungs right next to a half-asleep
individual.

“Weren't you supposed to be Dumbledore's man through and through?!” The voice sounded rather … odd to Harry. For it
sounded like a handful of people, of both genders, were yelling the same thing at the exact same time. “Where were you
when this happened?!”

“Harry!” This voice was by itself, very familiar. So familiar that Harry could hardly believe his ears.

He opened his eyes and cried out the memorable name. “Ginny!” He rose from his bed, expecting to see the red haired girl
lying next to him and that she would proceed to comfort him immediately.

“Ginny's not here, Harry.” Hermione Granger said bluntly. The Boy-who-lived could not hide his disappointment; he lay
back on his bed. The brown haired girl laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling at him with an air of sadness and
pity around her. “But I know she's thinking of you, Harry.”

The emerald eyed boy smiled at her, wordlessly thanking her for the comfort.

“You want to talk about it?” Hermione asked conversationally, removing her hand from Harry's shoulder and adjusting her
seat on the edge of his bed. Harry sighed, knowing that he would have to verbalize his daily reveries sometime in the
future anyway.

The Boy-who-lived took both of his hands and, with another long sigh, sent them through his hair as if he were cleansing
it during a shower. “They're … new….” He said in a whisper, staring at his blanketed feet blankly while his two hands
fell to either side of the bed soundlessly.

“The nightmares?”

Harry nodded, shutting his eyes. “D - Dumbledore … Ginny…. You and Ron….” Harry found he couldn't choke any other
coherent word out of his oesophagus. He felt the sobs coming, and then the tears came pouring out of his closed eyes,
seeping through the small line, past his eyelashes. He felt Hermione's arms hold him, while she whispered soothing
words, not that Harry could actually hear them, but merely the sound of her voice brought his sanity to a healthy level.

He brought his hands up and grabbed her tightly, bringing her so close that Ron would have brought out the good ol'
Avada Kedavra on poor old Harry.

Moments passed wordlessly, while Harry released all the tension that had been building up for the entire summer and
Hermione continued to comfort her as best as she could. “Its okay, Harry….” He heard his best friend whisper peacefully,
whilst she continued to run her hands all around his back. Harry found himself liking this feeling very much, much more
than Ron would have liked anyway.

“Her - Hermione….” He said, wanting to banish the feeling. The, normally on-the-ball Hermione Granger, gave a quiet
“oh,” of surprise and let go, moving back to a suitable distance between two friends, or at least, suitable by Ron's
standards. She was now standing next to Harry's desk, absently petting his sleeping owl through the golden bars of her
cage. “I'm sorry, Hermione….”

She turned around, looking hardly surprised at how he looked. “It's alright; you tend to bubble up your feelings, I'm
just glad I heard you while I was going to the loo.” Harry cocked his head in confusion.

“I - I was making noise…?” He asked incredulously, the feeling of Hermione pressed against him, comforting him,
momentarily forgotten.

Hermione nodded, stepping forward slightly. Harry rose to make room for her beside him and she smiled, sliding in beside
him easily. Harry admired how comfortable she seemingly was, for Harry's heart was now hammering against his ribs.
“Ron's told me that you tend to mutter whenever you're having a nightmare.”

“Oh … R - Ron told you that.” The Boy-who-lived stated, looking away from her.

“Yes he did. He's always told me that he's worried about you.” Harry found his head turning back to her automatically.
“I am too as a matter of fact. A typical day seems to go by like this: you wake up first, you prepare breakfast for the
Dursleys, Ron and I. You're finished your own breakfast when I wake up, merely muttering a “morning,” to me, and go off
on your own. You never even see Ron all day; I doubt the two of you have made any eye contact over the past week.” She
said in a couple of breaths.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. “You've rehearsed this conversation haven't you?” He said with a grin. Harry found
himself staring at his best friend's own smile grow with every second.

“Yes!” She said between laughs, but then her laughter stopped and her tone was much sharper. “Yes, I did. I'm getting
tired of you doing all the planning, Harry. You're not even supposed to leave here until your birthday, I - I tired to
follow you once and I think you must've noticed since you apparated away as soon as I caught up to you.”

Harry sighed and looked back at his blanketed feet once more, finding them easier to stare at then Hermione.

“Look, Harry.” Her voice was a lot less critical now; it was reminiscent of her soothing tones from earlier. “The
Ministry will b-”

“Oh, fuck the Ministry.” Harry found himself saying automatically, whipping his hand through the air as if slamming his
hand on a table. Harry didn't know whether the Wizarding World would be better off with Fudge, or Scrimgeour.

“NO, Harry, the Ministry fucks you!” The acclaimed Chosen one jumped and surprised himself by gasping; it was unusual
for a member of female sex to swear, let alone Hermione. Harry dared to look at her, and found her quite the piece of
artwork. Her hair was electrifying and her cheeks were rosy pink, flushed with anger. “Scrimgeour wants you to be their
propaganda campaign, Fudge wants you to mess up and Voldemort wants you to come to him easily so he can deal with the
fucking world without even blinking an eye. You'll be playing right into all of their hands if you go off on your own,
Harry!

“Ron and I are here for a fucking reason, Harry.” She paused, breathing raggedly for a couple of seconds. When she spoke
again, her tone was much more pleasant and softer, though Harry could hear it as clear as her yells from earlier.
“You're … you know you need us. You know that don't you?”

Harry didn't know what to say, his mouth continued to open and close as if he had suddenly become a fish. He raised his
hands to his face, pressing his palms against his cheeks; checking to see if he had gills like he did way back in the
second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament in his fourth year. “I - I need you to stay alive.” It was true, just like with
Ginny. He could wait for happiness; he had to deal with the problem at hand, the problem of Lord Voldemort and him being
bound by that stupid prophecy.

Hermione gave out a dry laugh. “That's rich, Harry, simply rich. Ron and I will probably rip each others' heads off by
the time you're finished finding one Horcrux by yourself.” Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he just continued
to listen to Hermione's soliloquy. “Don't … don't you ever forget that we need you too, Harry.”

Now the Boy-who-lived was truly sputtering his thoughts. “Wh - what?”

The brown haired Muggle born girl laughed dryly again. “You're the hero, Harry. I know I'm probably the last person who
you thought would say this to you, but you're the one who will win, Harry.” She paused for a moment, knowing that Harry
was letting it all sink into his gut. “You're the one who'll be beat him, not Ron, Ginny, or me.”

“You'd probably do better than me….” Harry found himself saying automatically. Hermione laughed cheerfully at this, her
dry one but a memory now. Hermione merely shrugged with a half smile on her moonlit face.

A comfortable silence ensued, in which the two friends were both thinking about the discussion they just participated
in. Hermione's soliloquy brought the many memories the short holiday had already brought onto Harry. Hermione and Ron
had decided, while the three of them were snacking on the trolley's arsenal of candy in their cosy compartment on the
Hogwarts express, that they would join Harry at Privet Drive. There, they would begin to contemplate the many things
which needing serious thought.

Ron was going to attend Bill and Fleur's wedding, Harry and Hermione both politely declined, both feeling that they were
merely intruding in the Weasleys' happiness. That, and they were worried about whatever Fred and George had cooked up
for the wedding.

Hermione was merely reading as much as she could within Privet Drive. Occasionally, she would go to Hogwarts after
telling Harry that she was going somewhere for the day, and return with a stack of books. Harry, at one point, asked her
what exactly she was looking for, but she merely smiled and looked back at her book, saying that she was looking for
anything relating to the Dark Arts. Harry couldn't help but think that was a rather broad topic, and he knew that she
was quite frustrated with the lack of results.

Harry was taking charge of the hunt. He searched for anyone related to Dumbledore, demanding any information they had
relating to the Horcruxes and his suspicions of what, and where, they might be. More than once, he had run into several
Death Eaters who had tracked him and eliminated the person Harry was seeking. He would return from those, dishevelled
and drained, no doubt from running to a safe apparition point as quickly as possible. The only person Harry would ever
see after one of those encounters was Hermione. He would find her on his bed, reading a book while having a couple of
earphones in her ears, playing soft, melodic, classical music. Harry would catch her attention and thank her, sometimes
he would tell her where he had gone, or what he had been looking for. But those were rare occasions, most of the time
they just played out with Hermione leaving his room silently, returning to the guest room she shared with Ron.

“You okay?” Hermione asked softly after a minute of stillness. Harry nodded immediately, far too used to the question.
“No you're not.” He smiled at this, remembering Hagrid saying the same thing to him.

“I will be though.” He on purposely incited eye contact between the two of them, still smiling, “I'm … I'm sorry,
Hermione. I just wanted … you know….” He looked away uncomfortably while Hermione watched on, not in the least bothered
by his awkward speech.

“Go on….” She coaxed soothingly.

With a heavy sigh, Harry did as she asked. “I don't mean to … you know … ignore you two or whatever. It - I … it's just,
you two are er … together and all.” Harry didn't dare look at her face, knowing that it was coated in a splatter of red,
as his was too no doubt. “You know, you don't have to … to be he-”

“The hell we don't!” Her anger had returned, unfortunately for Harry. “Don't you ever listen to me?! Ron and I will
probably rip each others' heads off by the time you're finished finding one Horcrux by yourself!”

“I - I didn't think you were serious….” Hermione snorted and Harry couldn't help but feel quite scared by this new
Hermione emerging seemingly out of nowhere; angry and blunt, rather than the compassionate and understanding version of
the golden brown haired girl from earlier.

“This is exactly what's making me so … so angry! I'm tired of you and Ron treating me … treating me … like someone n -
not worth any attention! I'm so fucking tired of it, Harry!” Harry admitted, at that exact moment, that he had to be the
most self-centred person on the face of the Earth, just hearing Hermione confess so angrily like this made him feel
lousy, and deflated. “Where would you be if you ... you didn't rescue me from the t-troll….” She paused; no doubt
remembering just how much fear how engulfed her when she was facing the troll. “What would have happened to you then?”
Her eyes were brimming with tears, Harry felt even more deflated by the realization that all he seemed to do for
Hermione was make her cry.

No wonder why she likes Ron better than me. He couldn't help thinking.

“H - Hermione…. I'm … I'm so sorry.” He couldn't think of anything else to say, honestly, and by her expression, Harry
suspected that she wished for more then that. “But … but can you really blame me? I've been running from Death Eaters
all my life….” Harry felt that was a sufficient enough argument, Hermione shrugged, looking away from him.

She rose from the bed suddenly and Harry couldn't help but wonder why she was leaving so suddenly. “Where're you going?”
He blurted out. Hermione turned back to him, smiling slightly at him.

“We'll talk more tomorrow, but I'm tired now…. And if Ron weren't fast asleep, he'd probably be wondering what I was up
to.” With a stifled yawn, and a short stretch of many different limbs and muscles, Hermione left Harry with a short, yet
oddly sweet, good night.

Within moments, Harry was fast asleep, his dreams oddly … normal for a teenager. Fleeting visions of Ron and Hermione
wearing golden crowns with glittering jewels visible on every single piece of flesh on them, even their teeth were
glinting as if multiple jewels were drilled into them. They seemed so happy, so damn blissful, how Harry wished he could
be just as happy.

Then, with an ear splitting screech, the figures of Ron and Hermione dissolved, their seemingly magnificent throne room
disappearing as well, only to be replaced by a canyon with an eerie mist surrounding it. The sky, from what Harry could
see, was full of dark rain clouds, though there were two holes in the huge clouds where he could see a swirling black
hole. One hole was shaped in the familiar outline of Dumbledore's head, with a tall, yet slightly askew, hat. The other
was shaped in Sirius's, messy hair cutting into the clouds around the hole.

“You see them.” Harry froze at the sound of the peculiar voice. He rose from the ground, not remembering ever falling
from anything and looked around him; soon he spotted the owner of the voice. And his heart skipped.

“You are surprised to see me.” Ginny Weasley said in a voice that didn't belong to her. Her once magnificent flaming
hair was now replaced by, what looked like, worms dangling from her scalp. Her face was without any freckles, and
instead of soft and pure looking white skin, it was fairly pale. Harry couldn't figure out how he knew she was Ginny,
for the … creature standing in front of him looked nothing like his ex-girlfriend.

“You have not figured out what I am now. Even though you know that I am greater than you in many ways.” Ginny said
flatly, she stood rooted on the spot, the mist around her swirling around her feet.

“Wh - what?” Harry stuttered, finding the volume of his voice quite inferior to Ginny's.

“You see the many mistakes within your life. You do not wish to see anymore.” Harry was getting tired of the many
statements the creature was making. “Yet I am going to show you more, Harry. Your past is full of mistakes and you need
to fully acknowledge them.”

The same ear splitting screech filled Harry's ears yet again, and he shouted out in pain, feeling his knees crumbling
beneath him, Ginny swam out of view just as Ron and Hermione had.

~*~

With a sharp stab from his scar, Harry awoke from his, quote on quote, nightmare. Up till now, Harry had understood what
all his nightmares meant. Cedric's death, his parents' deaths, Sirius falling through the veil and, of course, one
cannot forget about Albus Dumbledore's. Harry rose from his lying position on his bed and to a sitting position on the
edge of it. This nightmare felt different to him, it left him feeling … cold and unnatural. He absently blew air from a
small hole between his lips and ran both hands through his messy raven black hair.

Harry was ripped away from his thoughts by a quiet tapping noise from his window; an unfamiliar owl hovered beyond the
threshold, repeatedly knocking his talons against the glass. Harry hastily opened the window for the owl. The proud
looking great horned owl flew in and landed on Harry's bed, settling on the soft blanket. The owl extended his leg,
revealing a small letter. The Boy-who-lived quickly retrieved the letter, his heart pounding at the sight of the
familiar Hogwarts emblem plastered on the envelope.

“Why … why would they be sending them now?” Harry whispered out loud, forgetting about the letter for a moment. “Or is
this one somehow … different?” He opened the letter easily and quickly, his eyes scanning for the answers he lusted for.

Mr. Potter,

This is without a doubt the first letter I have ever written to a student that isn't relating to their education. I
recently put up a life size portrait of Albus Dumbledore in his office, which did not speak at all until today where
upon he coughed up a large amount of blood. The transition from life in the real world, through death and into the life
of a portrait is not the easiest of things in the world, Potter. For now, Albus has merely spoke of light subjects, no
doubt waiting till he regains his full strength to tell the actual tale of his hunt for the Horcruxes.

Yes, Potter, he has informed me of the Horcruxes. I am honoured that he felt that it was necessary for me to know it.
Also, the Ministry has come to an agreement to open the doors to Hogwarts once more, and even though you are hunting for
these vile instruments, I still feel it necessary to ask for your return to Hogwarts.

Why, you ask? Well, other than the fact that you and Miss Granger are clearly two of the most talented people to have
entered the school, you and Miss Granger were to inherit the positions of Head Boy and Head Girl respectively. If you
were to not attend, I would find it most difficult to choose any other people for the positions.

I await your answer Mr. Potter,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding

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

3. To Us Heroes

Harry Potter and Ill fated Karma

Summary:

After the events of their sixth year, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off to find the last Horcruxes. Though, with the help
of our friend karma, they will all discover multiple things that will forever change the world.

Disclaimer:

Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I, Runningidiot, own nothing from this story, and do not
plan on making any sort of profit by selling. I do not intend to make a mockery of the epic tale of Harry James Potter,
but I continue to write H.P fanfiction for the mere enjoyment of it.

Rating:

Pg 13

Genre:

Action/Adventure and Romance. Classic stuff

Author's Note:

A tad short, but here's the third chapter!

Chapter Three:

To Us Heroes

Production at any price
Admiration of those who earn
With blood on their hands
We will never learn

Heroes to us - Kalmah

“Hold still, Harry! If you keep squirming I'll hurt you even more….” Harry moaned in his unconscious state, writhing a
bit around his bedspread, attempting to find a more comfortable position. “Oh, by Merlin, Harry!”

“S - Sorry…. It's just … weird, you know?” Harry saw Hermione nod from her hovering position above him. She continued to
dab the cloth to his forehead, sending even more pain through all his nerves. “What the hell is in that cloth?” Harry
asked, hoping Hermione's lecture on the properties of the cloth would distract him from the pain.

“Remember, Harry? I told you earlier, it's a potion Ron conjured up. It's supposed to help with the pain.” She turned
away from Harry to glare at Ron for a moment. “I … I thought he did it adequately, but it seems like it's hurting you
more than anything!”

Ron backed away from the bed because of the glare, soon reaching the wall across from it, ending up next to Hedwig, who
was nibbling on a dead rat. “I - I put in everything you told me to put in, Hermione!”

“Did you let it sit for five minutes after dropping the Bubotuber pus in the cauldron?” Ron shifted uncomfortably while
Hedwig ripped the rat's head off, creating a loud tearing noise that seemed to say: screwed. Hermione sighed slightly,
taking off the wet cloth from Harry's forehead and shrugged at him.

“Look, mate … I'm … I'm sorry.”

“D - Don't worry…. Ron…. I'm fine.” Harry attempted to rise from his splayed position, though he couldn't help but
cringe at the pain that shot through his entire body from his forehead. “It was just … me … stupid me.”

It was well past daybreak, yet Harry could barely make out Hermione's frame let alone the spectacle of the sun rising
through the light blue sky. He sighed, remembering how he got into the encumbered position.

Harry had just shown both of his friends the letter he received from McGonagall, realizing that Hermione also received
one almost identical to his own. Together, they woke up Ron and went to the kitchen to discuss the letters together.

“Yet another reason to go back there, Harry.” Hermione said anxiously as the Boy-who-lived sighed, turned on his heel
and shoved both of his hands into his long black hair, messing it up even more than it already was. He begun to pace
around the small kitchen in the Dursleys' residence while both Hermione and Ron watched him worriedly, hoping he wasn't
going to burst out any second.

“Look … look, mate.” Ron said tentatively, but he paused when Harry wheeled upon him, flashing his eyes madly. “I - I
don't know what you're getting all … all fuss-”

Harry blew up then. “Would you want to go back there, Ron? Would you want to go back to the place you saw … saw …
Dumbledore die at?!” Harry growled in frustration, resuming his pacing around the kitchen floor.

“H - Harry,” Hermione said softly, halting Harry's pacing for a moment. “First off … calm down. We won't solve anything
by getting angry at each other!” The trueness in this didn't stop Harry from blowing another fuse off of his sanity by
kicking the screen door that served as the threshold between the kitchen and the garden of the Dursley residence. He
watched it shattered around his foot while Hermione screamed out something incoherent.

“WHAT THE RUDDY HELL ARE YOU DOING, BOY?!” Another growl of frustration came from Harry at the familiar shouting from
his uncle, who was currently stomping down the staircase, no doubt awakening the entire neighbourhood if Harry didn't
already. Vernon stomped into the kitchen, no source of light surrounding him so Harry couldn't see the generic purple
faced angry expression of Vernon Dursley. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BOY?!”

He resumed his stamping charge towards Harry, but Hermione sighed quite heavily and loud, Harry watched her flick her
wand lazily and Vernon suddenly halted, his arms and legs clasped to his body, sending him to the ground. A tremor shook
the kitchen floor for a second, Harry automatically grabbed for Hermione, bracing her fall.

“Nice one,” he muttered to her after he let go of her. She smiled at him nervously, it seemed as though she was still a
bit uncomfortable with attacking people in general, no matter how villainous they acted.

“VERNON!” Hermione's smile disappeared at the sound of the familiar shrill call that signalled Petunia Dursley's
arrival. She rushed to her husband's bound body and felt for a pulse, although she could undoubtedly feel one; that
didn't stop her from shouting at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “What … did you do to him?!” She screamed. Ron cringed
prominently from the sound of her shouting; Harry couldn't help but snort slightly. Seeing as he was usually on the
receiving end of one of Mrs. Weasley's shouting rampages nowadays.

“Aunt Petunia….” Harry begun nervously, he pushed Hermione behind him, hoping that she wouldn't take the blame for
everything.

“YOU FREAKS! WE'VE KEPT YOU, BOY, IN THIS HOUSE FOR SIXTEEN YEARS AND THIS … THIS IS HOW YOU THANK US? BRINGING … FIRST
SCARING OFF ALL THE NEIGHBOURS … THEN BRINGING A GIANT OAF … NOW YOU'RE BRINGING LUNATICS TO THE HOU-” Harry couldn't
remember ever letting go of Hermione, all he knew was that he was rushing at Petunia Dursley, preparing to harm her in
anyway possible.

“H - Harry!” He heard Hermione shout, but he chose to ignore it and continue his pursuit towards Petunia, the older
woman looked rather frightened, she was backing away slowly towards the wall behind her, reaching for anything that can
serve as a weapon against the angered Harry.

“LUNATICS?!” Harry shouted; all the glass around him shattering into millions of pieces. “YOU, PETUNIA DURSLEY, ARE
CALLING HERMIONE GRANGER AND RON WEASLEY; LUNATICS?!”

“Harry, stop this now!” Hermione rushed forward, shielding his aunt from his rage. “You … you have absolutely no idea
what you're doing!”

Harry laughed bitterly, shoving Hermione out of his way, though she stumbled slightly, Harry didn't realize that her
spirit was crushed more than anything. “I know exactly what I'm doing. It's about time I do something about the actual
lunatics here!”

Before Harry could actually reach his aunt to cause any damage to her, all light around Privet Drive vanished, even the
moonlight fingering through the broken glass seemed to disappear. The silence that echoed the sudden darkness seemed
rather eerie, but then, after listening to his own breath for far too long, the world around Harry lit up again and he
found himself looking up at Hermione Granger with his head pounding painfully.

“Her … Hermione…?” The Boy-who-lived said, finding his tone very raspy. She quickly shushed him and continued to dab a
wet cloth to his forehead.

“Ron's making a potion right now. It should help in easing the pain.” The coldness from the cloth soothed Harry as he
shut his eyes and entered a blissful realm of his own.

“What happened to me?” He asked, disliking his tone.

If Harry's eyes weren't shut, he would have seen Hermione shrug. “I'm not exactly sure. One second you were charging at
you aunt, and then you were on the floor … cl - clutching your scar.”

This remark was replied with a long pause on Harry's part. Usually he remembered the pain from one of his “scar
moments.” Harry shook his head, knocking the cloth Hermione was dabbing against his forehead off it. Hermione looked
momentarily puzzled, but Harry held up a hand and attempted to rise from his lying position.

“You … you don't think this is from Voldemort, do you?” Harry asked, pressing a hand against his scar, which was burning
quite prominently.

Hermione shrugged. “I don't know, you've told us before that you … your feelings are linked with you-kn … Voldemort's.”
Hermione paused for a moment, attempting the grasp the name once more, it seemed as though she was still getting used to
saying the name. “He … he, well, could have been extremely angry at the same time you were attempting to confront your
aunt.”

Harry sighed, once more bringing his hands up to his hair. He lay back down on his rock hard bed, finding himself very
uncomfortable. “This is not what we need….”

“Look … Harry.” Hermione started softly, causing him to lower his hands and look at her with a concerned expression.
“This may answer … well, a couple of questions we have.”

“Like?” The Boy-who-lived said sharply, Hermione did not look discouraged though; she prowled on with her explanation.

“Like whether or not we return to Hogwarts.” Harry sighed and shut his eyes with a groan of frustration. “No, Harry …
Harry, hear me out. If you're ... acting like this to Vo - Voldemort's presence within your mind…. Maybe … just maybe,
you're not….”

“You're saying that I'm not fit enough to hunt for these Horcruxes?” Harry suggested, looking at her with raised
eyebrows. She nodded. “Hermione, Dumbledore and I already discovere-”

“NO, Harry, no you didn't! It was a fake remember? Maybe your connection with Voldemort isn't … isn't a good thing.”
Hermione paused, looking rather depressed.

Harry took a long amount of time to reflect on the revelations Hermione had proposed, while she calmly picked up the
cloth once more, soaked it up in a nearby basin of water and continued to pat it against his forehead.

How could Harry fight against Dumbledore's killer if he couldn't even get near him without searing pain striking at him?
Not for the first time in his life, Harry cursed his scar silently, because of this connection with Voldemort; Hermione
was proposing that they would all return to Hogwarts and research from there rather then acting now, which seemed to be
the best decision to Harry at this moment.

“Oh, Ron!” Hermione said, bringing Harry out of his reverie. “Put them here, on this table.” Ron nodded from the
doorway, bringing a couple of vials of the potion Hermione asked him to brew. He placed them where Hermione had asked
him to and she took one lightly, shaking it slightly, mumbling under her breath.

“Is it okay…?” Ron asked, no doubt unsure of his own potion proficiency.

“Seems alright, it's supposed to be …” Hermione fished through the textbook next to her for a moment. “… A bright yellow
colour, the one we've got here isn't that bright, you must have just done something little.” Hermione smiled up at Ron,
pressing her lips to his cheek for a moment before carefully dumping a small portion of the vial's contents onto the wet
cloth. She placed the vial down and let the cloth soak up the potion before pressing it to Harry's forehead once more.

Harry screamed out in pain when the cloth made contact with his scar, his eyes turned blurry as the shooting pain
scurried throughout his body at high speeds. Hermione, frightened by this, stepped back with a puzzled expression.

“Look … Harry, its bound … bound to hurt, but please….” Harry nodded, apologizing for his outburst with a mumble.
Tentatively, Hermione returned to cloth to his forehead, where upon he promptly hissed at the pain. He moved for a more
comfortable position on the bed when Hermione, in turn, hissed at him.

“Hold still, Harry! If you keep squirming I'll hurt you even more….” Harry moaned in his unconscious state, writhing a
bit around his bedspread, attempting to find a more comfortable position. “Oh, by Merlin, Harry!”

“S - Sorry…. It's just … weird, you know?” Harry saw Hermione nod from her hovering position above him. She continued to
dab the cloth to his forehead, sending even more pain through all his nerves. “What the hell is in that cloth anyway?”
Harry asked, hoping Hermione's lecture on the properties of the cloth would distract him from the pain.

“Remember, Harry? I told you earlier, it's a potion Ron conjured up. It's supposed to help with the pain.” She turned
away from Harry to glare at Ron for a moment. “I … I thought he did it adequately, but it seems like it's hurting you
more than anything!”

Ron backed away from the bed because of the glare, soon reaching the wall across from it, ending up next to Hedwig, who
was nibbling on a dead rat. “I - I put in everything you told me to put in, Hermione!”

“Did you let it sit for five minutes after dropping the Bubotuber pus in the cauldron?” Ron shifted uncomfortably while
Hedwig ripped the rat's head off, creating a loud tearing noise that seemed to say: screwed. Hermione sighed slightly,
taking off the wet cloth from Harry's forehead and shrugged at him.

“Look, mate … I'm … I'm sorry.”

“D - Don't worry…. Ron…. I'm fine.” Harry attempted to rise from his splayed position, though he couldn't help but
cringe at the pain that shot through his entire body from his forehead. “It was just … me … stupid me.”

Harry hissed once more as Hermione gripped the cloth properly. “I've never liked using Bubotuber pus, ever since….”

“Those hate letters?” Harry suggested and she nodded a sad expression on her face. “Luckily, this is the diluted
version, but I'm surprised it's hurting you this much. Even with Ron's mistake.”

“Look, you were acting impatient!” Ron said defensively. “I wanted to finish it quickly enough for yo-”

“Acting impatient?!” Hermione dropped the cloth onto Harry's head, letting his head soak up the vile liquid, much to his
displeasure. “How am I acting impatient?”

“Well, right now, you told me, specifically, to do it as quickly as possible! You never let me take my ti-”

Hermione snorted, placing her hands on her hips. “Did you stop listening after that, Ron? I quote from myself: do it as
quickly as possible, while following the instructions carefully. Apparently you didn't follow the potion's, or my own,
instructions at all!” Harry cringed for the tenth time since his two friends' argument begun, and not because of the
argument itself.

“See what I mean? Hey, Harry! It appears as though our good friend here, Hermione, does not wish to acknowledge the
fucking time I put into that damn potion!” With a huff of frustration, Hermione turned away from her supposed boyfriend,
back to Harry, who she noticed immediately, was not looking too well.

“Th - thanks….” Harry wheezed after Hermione had rushed over and removed the cloth. “I - I tried calling out….”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry….” The witch said softly, running a hand over his scar.

His world then promptly faded into blackness.

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

4. On Board Once Again

Harry Potter and Ill fated Karma

Summary:

After the events of their sixth year, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off to find the last Horcruxes. Though, with the help
of our friend karma, they will all discover multiple things that will forever change the world.

Disclaimer:

Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I, Runningidiot, own nothing from this story, and do not
plan on making any sort of profit by selling. I do not intend to make a mockery of the epic tale of Harry James Potter,
but I continue to write H.P fanfiction for the mere enjoyment of it.

Rating:

Pg 13

Genre:

Action/Adventure and Romance

Author's Note:

Chapter four's up. Enjoy!

Chapter Four:

On board once again

Days after Harry's final recovery, their research on the Horcruxes was still getting nowhere due to different
circumstances. Harry attempted to leave the house to interview Dumbledore's many subordinates, but he was finding it
difficult tracking them down, seeing as most of them were going into hiding.

Just now, Harry received a reply from one of them, a certain Garth Nex whose writing looked as though he had prepared it
in less than a minute.

Mr. Potter

I regret to inform you that I am unable to give you any information concerning Albus. Ever since his death my family has
been scared practically to death, so I have decided to quit my job and take them into hiding. Because of the threat of
interception, I am unable to tell you where I am going off, but believe me when I say I wish you luck on defeating this
evil. I am glad to see the responsibility present within you.

My best regards,

Garth Nex

He promptly crumpled the letter and tossed it, unceremoniously, with all the other regretful letters. The increasing
number of contacts going into hiding was troubling Harry. Along with the Ministry's numerous failed attempts to bring
peace back to the world. To topple everything, Harry thought Ron and Hermione would cease their meaningless arguments,
but, if anything, they had increased dramatically.

Harry was surprised into laughter yesterday when the Dursleys got so fed up with their petty arguing that they got up
and left, not bothering to inform Harry where they were going off to. Harry promptly told them that he was thankful that
they were together finally, which made them both blush profoundly. The Boy-who-lived had not seen the two of them since,
but he noticed the door to the room they shared was closed when he left for the loo this morning.

Shaking his head, he rose from his chair, cringing slightly at the sudden pain erupting from his scar's region.
Automatically, he pressed one of his two hands against it, willing the pain to go away. He went to his small closet in
his equally small room and looked at the piece of parchment nailed to the wall beside the two doors.

To do list regarding Horcruxes

- Contact as many of Dumbledore's affiliates and question them about Dumbledore's last activities.

- Before Harry's birthday, find a suitable location for a “headquarters”

- Think of what objects Voldemort would use as Horcruxes

A current list of known Horcruxes:

- The Ring (X)

- Riddle's Diary (X)

- Slytherin's Locket ( )

- Hufflepuff's Cup ( )

Maybe Horcruxes:

- Something belonging to Ravenclaw

- Something belonging to Gryffindor

- Voldemort's pet snake which Harry has seen in his many dreams.

- Voldemort himself (Hey, he could be!)

- If Voldemort himself is a supposed Horcrux, its also likely that … well, Harry could be one too….

After reading the list of supposed and known Horcruxes, Harry blew out some air. Reluctantly, Harry waved his hand
lazily summoning one of his many quills from his nearby desk. He caught it easily, feeling pleased that there was some
dry, but useable, ink on it still. He drew a long thin line right through “Contact as many of Dumbledore's affiliates
and question them about Dumbledore's last activities.” Dropping the quill back onto his desk, Harry sighed and fell back
on his bed, hating the shooting pain throbbing in his head at every single damn minute.

Half an hour passes slowly for the Boy-who-lived as he tries to piece together everything.

Alright, so we've got the ring and the diary. He shut his eyes, hearing Hermione's optimistic words echo inside his
head.

Just think about what we've destroyed! She had said so softly, Harry had to strain to hear her. Don't beat yourself up
about the locket, we'll find it eventually, Harry!

He sighed, rising from his bed, staring back at the list, willing himself to not think about the possibilities…. But
there it was, stamped painfully in his mind.

To create a Horcrux, it was necessary to commit to ultimate crime of ending another person's life. All throughout his
life, Harry had seen quite a few miracles performed throughout it. Who's to say that a Horcrux can be created from a
miracle?

The realization actually came to him during one of his dreams (he didn't even bother calling them nightmares anymore,
seeing as those are the only dreams he ever has these days). The dream was of that fatal day all those years ago at
Godric's Hollow, in which both his parents died and Voldemort was reduced to ashes.

Though he was reduced to ashes because of a killing curse, Avada Kedavra, or as Ron likes to call it: A.K. This would
normally do anybody in the blink of an eye. But Harry had survived, and now, at the age of seventeen, he was wondering
if a freaking Horcrux was created then.

And if he was that very Horcrux.

“HARRY!” Ronald Weasley's voice brought him out of his reverie. “HARRY, MATE, COME QUICK!” Literally leaping from his
bed, Harry rushed down the stairs, wincing at the creaking noise and automatically reassuring himself that the Dursleys
were not present within the house.

He arrived at the living room, finding his estimation of Ron's location to be correct. He was staring at the fireplace,
which was a wonder because Harry knew the Dursleys had an elec-

His theory was proven wrong when Arthur Weasley's head was grinning up at him from the middle of the fire.

“I've hooked up the fireplace again, Harry.” He said, answering one of the questions in Harry's mind. “Molly just
reminded me of the date and I just wanted to congratulate you on becoming an adult in the Wizarding world.”

“I didn't get any congratulations….” Harry heard Ron mutter from the side of the fireplace, if his father heard it, his
face said otherwise.

Harry was surprised at Arthur Weasley, who he had always looked up to as a councillor, a confident, or even an actual
father. Harry had only glimpsed the eldest Weasley the last year; no doubt it was because he was paying more attention
to another member of the Weasley family. Though now, looking at Mr. Weasley, it seemed at least ten years had passed
since he had last seen him.

His red hair looked as though it was beginning to fade and his aura, which was usually fairly pleasant, seemed to add to
more of Harry's piling misery.

“So now that you are of age, Harry.” He continued, his voice sounding odd as it travelled across connected fireplaces
of, no doubt, the Burrow and the Dursley residence. “What do you plan on doing?”

Harry honestly couldn't find an answer. He had told Ron and Hermione not to tell anyone about the quest they were going
to embark on. Eying Ron for a moment, Harry struggled with his answer. “N - nothing really different, Mr. Weasley. I'm
planning on going back to Hogwarts and … and hopefully….”

“Find out a way to kill You-Know-Who?” Mr. Weasley suggested wryly. Harry was rendered speechless. “I've been talking
with McGonagall a fair bit; she's worried about you, Harry. I'm told she sent you a letter a while ago…?”

“It was yesterday.” Harry said equally, if not more, wryly.

Arthur Weasley paid the tone no mind. “Regardless, she was expected a prompt reply, I have to tell her that you're
planning on going to Hogwarts for your final year. But I know for a fact that she would rather hear it from you.”

“So this is it huh?” Harry said challenging, forgetting all about proper ness. “I turn seventeen to have a teacher and a
father of one of my best friends nag me?” Harry regretted saying this much as soon as he was finished.

“Call it whatever you like, Harry.” Once again, paying the tone no mind, Harry found himself thinking of truly how great
Mr. Weasley was. “But I know that my wife's also, as always, worried about you. Remember that you're all always welcome
at the Burrow, McGonagall's been telling me that the three of you are planning something and by the atmosphere of the
two of you, I can see that claim is true.

“I won't pester the two of you into telling me what's going on. You are all of age now and you are all now responsible
for your own lives. But I will tell you this much, you have friends. While the Order is disbanded until a new leader is
elected, you are always welcome at the Burrow.”

With that said, the head of Arthur Weasley disappeared from the fireplace with a resounding pop. An eerie silence
followed in its wake.

“I've got breakfast going….” Both Harry and Ron wheeled around to see Hermione wearing an astonishingly pink apron with
multiple white flowers floating around it. Harry recognized it as one of his Aunt's cooking aprons and he smiled at the
thought of her reeling at the realization that someone she considered inferior wearing it.

Yet as he followed the bickering pair into the kitchen (yes they had conjured up an argument that quickly) he couldn't
help thinking how anyone could feel that Hermione Granger was inferior to them.

~*~

The rest of the summer passed far too quickly for Harry's liking. They had visited the Burrow twice, both times were
excruciating awkward for Harry and he could tell it was just as awkward for his two best friends as they each tried to
pass the time as quickly as possible by playing as much Quidditch and Chess as possible. Harry had even spotted Hermione
strolling around the expansive land of the Burrow while reading, to Harry it looked so peaceful, yet again he felt envy
of his friends swell inside of him, Ron had grown up surrounded by beautiful landscape and didn't even know it.

And best of all, both of them were brought up by actual human beings. Harry thought venomously as he threw the tattered
Quaffle at Ron harder than he had intended to, nearly knocking his best friend off his broom.

Another thing that made visiting the Burrow so damn awkward was seeing Ginny moping around. While in previous years, all
of the Weasleys would mention Ginny babbling about Harry non-stop; it appeared this year she had finally stopped.

I wonder why. Harry thought sarcastically as Ron threw the Quaffle back at him. I'm doing this to defend her, not to …
to kill her. His heart seemed to break every time he saw her, her seeming enchanting aura was gone, replaced by one full
of misery and contempt.

“She doesn't talk anymore, really.” Mrs. Weasley said to Harry when he was helping her clean up in the kitchen. “Ginny I
mean….” He didn't need to hear the addition to know who she was talking about.

“I wonder why?” Harry replied, trying his best to sound innocent.

“She sent me a letter during the year.” With a resounding crash, the plate Harry had been attempting to dry crashed onto
the floor. “Oh, Harry! This is why you use magic to clean up!” She quickly repaired the plate and went about her
business, halting any discussion on Ginny.

Harry tried his best to put the contents of the letter off his mind as much as possible, after all, he didn't need the
woes of his ex-girlfriend to weigh him down when he, as Hermione said to him, needed to be as optimistic as possible.

He had meant to tell her about that encounter some time, so after Ron made another spectacular save (Harry's arm was
getting too tired, he wasn't built as a chaser) he called it quits and sped off to Hermione while Ron was left to put
away all the equipment.

“Hey, Hermione!” He called out as he stepped off his broom. Hermione looked up from her book to see Harry rushing
towards her.

She closed her book with a snap as soon as he caught up with her. “Hey, what's up?”

“Just wanted to tell you something….” Her eyes narrowed as she begun to walk once more, her book held firm at her side.
“Its abou-”

“Ginny, right?” Yet again, Harry was amazed at her perception. He nodded, looking at the relatively tall grass as he
adjusted his walking speed to match hers. “What'd you want me to know?”

“Mrs. Weasley just said … the other day that … that, um … Ginny sent a letter home during the year.” He was starting to
feel awkward again; he wasn't supposed to get awkward with Hermione.

Its just Hermione … and we're just talking about girls…. Don't worry about it….

“So?” Harry stopped and stared at her honey coloured eyes for a moment.

He didn't say anything for a moment; he couldn't seem to formulate any coherent sentence as he stared at the two brown
eyes looking right back at him. “Well, well … what if she said that I - I broke up with her!”

“You did though…. Nothing can change that.” Hermione said bluntly.

Now Harry was starting to feel really uncomfortable. “No, no I meant it …. Like, I don't know….”

“Harry,” The girl said calmly, Harry froze. “Just take a deep breath, and breathe…. There you go. Now just say
whatever's on your mind.”

Taking another breath for good measure, Harry told her his suspicions. “She might've said that I threw her away, you
know…. That explains the awkwardness in the Burrow doesn't it?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don't know … I thought the whole feeling of risking our lives might've set off the awkwardness….”
Harry did admit that she had a point.

“I don't know then!” He screamed out in frustration, tossing his Firebolt to the grass unceremoniously. Though when he
saw Hermione's seemingly frightened expression, he softened his tone. “I - I can't take this, Hermione…. I ju - just
can't…. She … She was so perfect, you know?”

Hermione nodded not saying anything. She pointed to the grass to her right side and Harry obediently lay down on the
grass there, hearing Hermione lie down next to him.

“We never got in arguments…. It was like … like I entered a dream world. I remember only a couple of things from our
first year, one of them being you telling me about friendship and bravery beneath Hogwarts, the whole Philosopher's
Stone ordeal, meeting Hagrid, meeting Dumbledore and seeing Hogwarts for the first time.

“Seeing the castle, with its many blinking lights and … and just … just the aura made me feel right at home, like I
entered a dream world. It was the same with Ginny, you know? I finally found someone who actually cared about me rather
than f I made the news again or not….”

Hermione smiled slightly up at the fluffy clouds high above them. “It wasn't anywhere near that with Ron.” She said
simply, while Harry felt taken aback, Hermione and Ron rarely spoke of their relationship with him at all.

They didn't even bother asking me if I was comfortable at all with it…. He thought bitterly, rising from the grass,
suddenly feeling a yearning to be alone.

“Harry?” Hermione rose along with him.

Without saying another word he left, leaving Hermione looking more than a little disappointed.

~*~

Now that the summer holidays had passed, Harry was a little more anxious to get on the hunt for the Horcruxes. Hopefully
Hogwarts would prove to be a suitable place to both research for them and actually hunt for them.

Who knows? Maybe Voldemort even left a Horcrux here.

The end of the summer holidays brought the usual Hogwarts owls, soaring into the kitchen of number four Privet Drive
with their last letters informing them that Hogwarts would be reopening this year and all previous students plus new
year students were welcome to attend. Harry and Hermione (much to her glee) had also received respective Head Boy and
Head Girl badges. Hermione had actually thrown her arms around Harry's neck, which created an awkward atmosphere between
Ron and him while he looked on with obvious contempt.

Now Harry was speaking to all the newly elected Prefects.

“I don't know if it's come as a surprise or anything, really…. But the fact that Hogwarts is open means more than just …
school.” He said, leaning against the slide door which marked the entrance of the compartment. “Hogwarts has always
served as a real home for me, and I want to keep it that way.

“Your jobs are more important than you know. Laughter and glee is going to be … scarce throughout the year…. You as
Prefects have to keep the … the … whole “hole” atmosphere intact!”

This was followed by mere staring from most of the Prefects, though some were looking at the floor uncomfortably.

“McGonagall has chosen all of you, because she thinks you are suited for this task, this task of a Hogwarts morale
boaster and the normal, rather boring, duties of any prefect. Now go and patrol the halls, two to each car.”

Dutifully and silently they filed out while Ron and Hermione stayed behind, smiling slightly at Harry.

“You should have been Prefect in fifth year, mate.” Ron said simply as he clapped his back. Harry smiled uncomfortably
before he led them back to the cart which Luna, Ginny and Neville were all waiting at.

“Where were the three of you?” Neville asked as each of them sat down. “Oh, Slug Club…. I always thought Professor
Slughorn would get bored of me eventually…. I mean when I was invited to that par-”

“We weren't at the freaking Slug Club, Neville.” Ron said exasperated. “Prefects' meeting….”

“Oh,” was all that Neville said.

In reply to this fascinating conversation, a heavy silence weighed heavily on the entire compartment. Harry sat next to
the window while Hermione and Ron were together at the other side of his row. He found it uncomfortable that Ginny was
seated right across from him, not only did he notice her staring at him more than once, but every time she did Harry
could sense the sadness within her and the small, but hopeful, feeling that they could return to it.

Harry didn't want to think about it, really…. After talking to Hermione about it he seemed to loose all interest in
Ginny. His relationship with the youngest known Weasley was eccentric and, as he had said to himself before, he had felt
like he was living in someone else's person. Yet after Dumbledore's death, the light that was his love for the girl had
all but extinguished only to be replaced with blackness so dark that he couldn't feel anything anymore.

With these depressing thoughts solidified in his mind, he continued to stare out at the window as the many plains of
grass and beautiful trees whooshed by, leaving their own stories behind.

~*~

Harry had found the ride to Hogwarts foreshadowed the year quite well; depressing, far too long and really, really,
gloomy. Conversation was never really initiated in their compartment, not because there was nothing to talk about….

I mean, they could have discussed their plans on the Horcruxes, but those were to be kept secret.

Oh, they could have talked about their conflicts relating to jealousy the previous year! But that would just make four
occupants uncomfortable and the rest even more uncomfortable.

Well, then there was the whole issue with people going into hiding all over the world? Harry tried bringing this up,
only to hear Luna's story of how an individual had gone into hiding and was never found, well, wholly that is.
Apparently an off duty Muggle policeman in the Americas had discovered an arm hanging off a branch of his willow in his
backyard; apparently it had frightened his kid to death. Luna said this was due to the man in hiding forgetting
everything about Wizarding procedures, thus, when he tried to apparate properly….

Harry tried to ignore the images his mind was conjuring up about the rest of his limbs.

Well, that topic was thrown overboard, and not an hour had passed, which meant that the half-way point was not even
close.

So what else can we talk about? Harry thought to himself. There's always the summer holidays….

“So how was everyone's summer?” Harry asked abruptly. Neville shrugged, not brandishing a birthday present from his
parents like he did two years ago. Luna merely said that it was alright, nothing too exciting had happened in the two
month period according to her. Of course, Harry already knew what Hermione and Ron's summer was like, since he had spent
the whole of it with them. And Ginny wasn't talking to anyone.

So much for that…. Harry thought wearily.

~*~

Arriving at Hogwarts changed nothing. Even though Hagrid was present, guiding the first years into the boats docked just
behind him, he had lost the joyful, springy, tone that Harry had become so accustomed to whenever he spoke to Hagrid. In
addition, he was ignoring him seemingly on purpose, Harry couldn't really blame him. The last year had saw little of the
half-giant and no doubt he had noticed Ginny's quiet demeanour and contrasted that to her abundant cheerfulness at the
end of last year. Hagrid wasn't stupid, no matter what people thought, he could put two and two together, much to
Harry's displeasure this time.

Seeing the Thestrals dragging the carriages this year only made him feel gloomier, he wondered if seeing more than one
murder would make their shape more defined, but found them quite the same, their eerie eyes staring at him no matter
where he stood.

The feast was scrumptious of course, conversation wasn't made there either. Harry found it extremely odd that he could
talk with Ron and Hermione when it was just the three of them, but now that he had returned to this place, and all its
glory….

When the first years filed in, Harry wasn't surprised in the least that there were so damn few, the death of Albus
Dumbledore had shaken the trust in the school and its staff members it seemed. Looking at Hermione, Harry knew she was
equally, if not less, surprised as him. McGonagall brought out the sorting hat; it seemed she was still acting as the
Deputy Headmistress even when she had been promoted to head.

Surprisingly enough, when she let the hat be, it did not sing a song, but rather, just talked conversationally, as if he
were reading a letter to his pals.

“Hogwarts, much to my glee, has reopened. And I know very few students return, but as long as one student files into
this school, I shall place him or her in the house I deem worthy of him or her, though when no student walks through
those gates, that, that is the point I shall lay myself to rest. And only at that point shall I refuse to let a child
wear me.”

Saying nothing else, McGonagall read out the first student's name.

“Richard Drifus.” A small seemingly tawny boy stepped forward, placing the hat on his head.

“Hufflepuff!” The hat screamed out, its yell not even close to being reminiscent of the “GRYFFINDOR” it had shouted for
Harry in his first year.

“Illyana Nix!” It seemed to Harry and everyone else in the entire hall, that she was skipping quite a lot of letters.

No students were sorted into Slytherin, whether this was the hat's own doing, or the first year's innocence, Harry could
not tell. But when he had finally finished showing the first years where his own room was (The Head Boy and Head Girl
actually shared a separate part in the castle, which came with a common room, two bathrooms and two bedrooms) so that
they could ask him questions any time, he bid Hermione a good night and fell onto his soft queen sized four poster.

Relishing the feeling of nausea in him, he cast away any thoughts about the sorting and fell into a dreamless sleep.

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