And Malice Toward None

Harry Potter sat on his thin cot, propped up against the colourless wall by the window. Nearly midnight, there was no way he was going to anger the Dursleys on the last night of his confinement to Privet Drive by turning on a bedside lamp. Besides, he could leaf through his album fairly well by the yellow light of the street lamp outside.

Usually he'd flip through the pages at the beginning, where Hagrid had assembled pictures of Harry's parents and family friends as a gift five years ago. He'd spent hours memorizing faces he'd never seen. But with ten minutes remaining to the stroke of midnight, he found himself turning through the last few pictures, the ones he'd added himself. He flipped past a shot of the Gryffindor Quidditch team rousting Slytherin, smiled at the picture of Ron asleep over a half-finished game of chess, and frowned a little at the picture of Ginny swaying demurely and fingering the top buttons on her shirt. There were shots of various members of the DA, and even one of Luna Lovegood and her ridiculously animated lion hat. He smothered a laugh at that.

Harry was looking through the album for one picture in particular. It was from the end of last year, after the fight at Malfoy Manor, after the hearings at the Ministry, and after the months-long detentions with Snape. There, he thought, holding the page open and running a finger along the portrait. It wasn't a wizarding picture, it did not move, or wave at him in any way. But it was one of his favorite possessions in the whole world.

It was a picture of his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, some huge tome on her lap as she sat by the fire in the common room, a smudge of ink alongside her nose. Harry thought she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

"I can't believe we're actually dating," Harry muttered to himself with a wistful smile. "Not that we've had any dates, really."

It was true. March, April, and May had found Harry in detention with Severus Snape every night and every weekend as punishment for attacking the greasy haired git and blasting down the doors to the Slytherin common room. Harry had been fortunate enough to escape the wrath of the Ministry of Magic after his assault on Malfoy Manor for the simple reason that it was the only success against the Death Eaters to date. Minister Percy Weasley was too busy celebrating the torching and taking credit for it to note that Harry's actions probably merited a visit to the Wizengamot. In any event, the closest Harry and Hermione had come to having a for-real date were the times she'd waited up for him in the Gryffindor Common room with some food following his sessions in the dungeons, or when he'd walk with her to her classes. It had been the subject of several conversations late at night; Hermione had never been asked out on a real date in her life, and somewhat surprisingly she wished to be. And for the first time ever, Harry was eagerly awaiting the prospect of a genuine date rather than dreading it.

But summer had meant being locked in with the Dursleys again, and Harry had been told in no uncertain terms that any friend of his was unwelcome in their house. Doubly so if it was a girl his own age. The soured lips and gimlet eye Uncle Vernon had graced Harry with when he'd brought up the topic of visiting his girlfriend suggested that the giant blow hard had thought up a few new reasons not to trust his nephew.

So Harry and Hermione had exchanged letters every day for the first two months of summer instead. They were, he reflected, a poor substitute for her company, especially now that he knew what it was like to kiss her. But her letters still brought a smile to his face, and that had been enough for now.

He'd re-read her letters earlier, and now Harry was engaging in a very nice expansion of his own personal birthday tradition. For years he'd waited up alone until midnight the night of July 30^th, so that at the very least he could celebrate the day, even if no one else wanted to. This night, he figured he'd be able to share his midnight vigil with the picture of the girl who'd actually said she loved him. It was made better by the knowledge that tomorrow morning he'd be seventeen, and an adult in the Wizarding World. Sooner or later the Order of the Phoenix would pull him out of his captivity on Privet Drive, and he'd finally be able to see Hermione again. With a month of summer left, Harry knew he could get in several wonderful dates, and hopefully many more of the shiveringly good kisses he'd found with his best friend.

Harry grimaced, realizing there were still some hang-ups in his plans for August. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd be leaving, or where he'd be going to. Harry couldn't do as he wished, and stay at the Burrow for the end of summer, as the Weasley house was closed up tight. Most of the family was gone on errands for the Order of the Phoenix, with Ron and Ginny squeezed into the Lovegood house for the duration. Ron's cramped notes suggested the Lovegoods lived in small flat over their printing house with barely enough room to turn around in, so Harry never even considered asking to stay there as well. The most likely place for Dumbledore to stuff him was Grimmauld Place, and Harry thought that Apparating and Disapparating to Old Marston every day to visit his girlfriend might be difficult when he was holed up in a completely hidden manour house. He imagined there'd be some bumps in the road, but once he figured out how, nothing was keeping him away from his girlfriend.

"I wish you were here," Harry said softly to the picture, careful not to wake his unpleasant relatives. "But I hope to see you soon."

"Then look up," came the soft, crisp, amused voice Harry knew so well.

He blinked a moment, then followed directions. Hermione Granger was chewing her lip, arms akimbo, in the middle of his bedroom. "Happy Birthday. Is this a good surprise?"

Harry blinked again, slowly, before a a wide smile split his face. He shoved his album to one side and scrambled out of the camp bed to lift Hermione off the ground in a tremendous hug. She squeaked for a moment as he held her aloft, but he could tell she was smiling even if his face was buried in her bushy hair. He breathed deeply, smelling the shampoo she always used before setting her back down, still smiling. "The best surprise! What are you doing here? How'd you get here? Where-?"

A finger on his lips stopped his excited questions, and he settled her back down onto the scuffed floor of his room. Hermione drew her ivy wand, and cast a quick Silencio on the door before favoring him with a lopsided smile. "I Apparated, I'm licensed to now, remember? As for why, it's your birthday, obviously." She held up a dainty digital watch on her wrist. "One minute after midnight, so you can leave right now."

"Leave?"

"Yes!" Hermione tugged on his worn out t-shirt, and leaned in to continue speaking in a whisper, even if it wasn't needed. "It's after midnight, so you're seventeen. You already know how to Apparate, so you can go anywhere you like. And since I convinced the Order I was bringing you to Grimmauld Place at nine in the morning, we have eight hours of uninterrupted freedom. Fancy a first date, Mr. Potter?"

As she spoke, Hermione casually waved her wand at Harry's scattered belongings and marched them into his open trunk, packing everything up in seconds. As he recalled, he'd shown her that particular charm last year. He grinned widely, adjusting his glasses to watch. "You've got it all planned out then." It wasn't a question; he knew Hermione too well to have to ask.

She turned back to Harry as his shirts and pants folded themselves atop his neatly stacked schoolbooks, and nodded with a self satisfied smile. "There's a theatre in Oxford, near my house, that stays open all night in summers. I've checked and there are also several after hours public houses for the university students within walking distance. That means we can have the traditional dinner and a movie date."

Hermione was very nearly bouncing, as she said this. Very deliberately stilling herself with an indrawn breath, she shut the lid on Harry's school trunk and sat neatly upon it. Her apparent calm was only betrayed by the fact she hadn't managed to still one nervously bouncing leg. "So?"

"So?" Harry drew the word out, not sure what he was supposed to say.

Hermione worried her lip. "So will you go on a date with me? Now, I mean."

Harry started to laugh, and bit it back so as not to wake the darkened house. "Of course I'd love to. And it's a brilliant plan, Hermione, but I think you forgot a couple of things."

Harry's easy acceptance of her offer visibly relaxed Hermione, enough for her to snort indelicately at Harry's last statement. "Forget something? Name one! I've fifty Pounds, the address of a Metro stop where we can store our trunks for our date, and times on three different films. I'm wearing comfortable shoes in case we choose to stroll around Oxford, a map of transit times, and now I've even got a boyfriend to escort me on my date. Honestly Harry, I've got it all covered."

Harry turned on the desk lamp, and pulled at his threadbare shirt. "Well, for starters you packed up all my clothes..."

Hermione blinked into the sudden brightness of the desk light. As her eyes adjusted, she pinked rapidly as she realized Harry was standing there, not five feet from her, in his boxers and a tattered t-shirt. She cleared her now-dry throat and jumped up from her perch on his trunk. She turned sharply away and kept her head very deliberately buried behind the lid as she quickly rifled through his clothes for something for him to wear.

Harry's very amused voice floated to her from across the room. "Do you need a hand?"

Her bright eyes popped up over the lid of their own volition for a moment before she ducked back into hiding. "No! Almost found everything!"

"Thanks Hermione, I was starting to get cold with-" Harry's good natured teasing was cut short as a pair of denims and a green shirt slapped him in the face. Harry dropped onto his bed, his clothes clutched to his lap as he laughed.

Hermione set his trainers and socks on the floor at the foot of his bed, closed his trunk, and regained her seat. She looked flushed, and her hair was starting to escape her control again, but otherwise she seemed at ease. "Well?"

Harry fought down a smirk. He figured he'd teased her enough, and didn't want to push a joke to the point that she wouldn't want to continue with that promised date. Instead, he kept his amusement off his face as he answered. "Well what?"

"Well," Hermione said with an eye roll. "Put your clothes on, Harry!"

Now it was his turn to clear his throat. Harry pulled at his shirt uncomfortably. "Um, do you want to turn around then?"

"Right then." Hermione turned away too fast for him to catch sight of her expression. Harry's worn t-shirt sailed over her shoulder and landed at the bottom of his dusty wardrobe. Hermione straightened her skirts, and cast about for something to say. "You said I'd forgotten a couple of things. That's only one item, unless you're counting each article of clothing separately."

Harry set the shirt Hermione had selected to one side, and shook his trousers out. "You thought I'd turned seventeen already, and could Apparate. It's still not my birthday yet."

Hermione very nearly spun around at that, but checked herself just in time. Instead, she held up her left hand, displaying her watch to him from across the room. "Which is correct, Harry. It's nine minutes after midnight, so you've been a legal adult for about as long as you can pay attention to Professor Binns."

Harry paused with one leg in his pants, and pulled his watch from his desk, and tossed it over Hermione's shoulder. She jumped a little, but managed to catch it before it fell. Harry shrugged, even though she couldn't see him. "It's not a very big thing to forget, but your watch is off. It's still one minute to midnight."

"Harry," she said with a trace of a laugh in her voice. "You're late everywhere you go. I'd tend to think your watch is the one that's dodgy."

"Trust me, Hermione." Harry sat back down to struggle with his jeans again. Somehow she'd managed to find his smallest pair. He sighed, and continued speaking. "This night of all nights, I'm positive what time it is."

He could see the back of her head shift as she looked back and forth between her wrist and Harry's battered watch. Although he couldn't see her face, he was sure she was frowning slightly. "But I'm sure I'm right. I always... oh, dear."

Harry paused with his pants half way up. "Oh dear, I always what?"

Hermione twisted halfway around on his trunk, tapping her watch sadly. "I was going to say that I check the time each week. I couldn't possibly be off. But then I remembered that I set my watch ten minutes fast every week, which means you were right, Harry. I'm here early."

Harry's brows knit. "Why would you do that?"

She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't deliberate! I wanted to get here just after twelve."

Harry shook his head. "No, I meant 'why would you set your watch wrong like that?'"

"Well, that way, I'll always be on time," she answered, a little of her usual certainty returning to her voice. "Even if I think I'll be cutting my schedule too close, I'll still be punctual."

"I'm starting to think that the year you spent with a Timer Turner did something to you." Harry grinned.

"Yes, well, be that as it may..." Hermione ducked her head and smiled slightly, not quite able to contradict her boyfriend. "In any event, it doesn't matter much anymore, since you're seventeen right... now!"

Harry stood up, still struggling to get his pants up further. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly Harry, are you seventeen or seven? You can get the best of a Hungarian Horntail, but denim trousers are too much for you?"

"Ha ha," Harry answered. "I'll show up in your bedroom some night, and we'll see how collected you are."

Hermione's jaw stuck open at this, thoughts very obviously whirling behind her eyes.

But whatever response she might have had was cut off as the bedroom door exploded inwards in a flash of red. Harry fell back onto his bed as the blast filled the room, and

Hermione slipped from her perch on his school trunk and landing between it and the foot of the bed,.

Smoke filled the splintered doorway, but black robed figures could be seen stepping through. Harry scrabbled for the wand he'd left on the floor. From her spot on the floor, Hermione managed to Stupefy the first masked Death Eater to step through the smoking doorway.

Two more robed and masked figures crowded in quickly, trampling their companion in their haste to rush the room. The first snarled as he chanted the Killing Curse, and the sickly green spell lashed out and blew the lid from Harry's trunk. Hermione pulled her legs in tighter behind the wreckage of the trunk, arms over her head as a second Killing Curse very nearly shattered her cover.

Still twisted across the bed, Harry came up with his wand, and wordlessly blew the Death Eater back from Hermione with a Reductor Curse. The third robed wizard brandished a tarnished bronze medallion, and Harry's next Reductor curse fizzled to a halt before the swinging amulet. A hellish flurry of lights leaped across the room as Harry and the masked Death Eater traded spells.

Ignored by the Death Eater dueling for his life, Hermione had an opportunity to sweep in under his guard. Not sure why the amulet had stopped the Reductor Curse, she took no chances. “Descisio! Supare," she called out quickly.

The Death Eater collapsed with a gurgle. Two more filled the doorway, and Hermione ducked behind the shattered trunk and a hastily raised Protego as a rain of hexes battered her position. Overhead, volleys of spellfire filled the small bedroom, punching holes in walls and filling the ceiling with dense smoke. A muggle fire alarm wailed briefly to life before a random hex shattered it.

Hermione sat up again, pulling the attention of one of Voldemort's supports away from Harry. She found herself pressed back against the brass foot board as this Death Eater managed to deflect her assault and press his attack back at her. Suddenly a brilliant green light flashed out, illuminating the dark bedroom. Hermione and the the Death Eater both stopped, turned and blinked.

The robed figure Harry had been fighting clapped Hermione's opponent on the shoulder, saying, "We did it! Back to Hangleton!"

Hermione managed to topple the speaker with a wordless curse, hearing his silver mask crunch quietly before he fell. His counterpart crouched over his fallen comrades, a flattened football in his hand. With a sudden pop, the dark robed figure and the four fallen bodies vanished.

Portkey, Hermione thought, dazed. She turned about on the floor, peering over the foot board at Harry sprawled out across the bed, still and unmoving. The desk lamp had been destroyed in the brief exchange, and her boyfriend looked cold in the feeble light from the broken window.

I'm being absolutely ridiculous, Hermione thought, fighting to control the tremors that were starting in her hands. I'm absolutely certain there are dozens of spells that cause a green flash of light. I'm working myself up over nothing, and when Harry sits up and needs me to mend his glasses for him, I'll look foolish for being shaken like this.

"Harry?" Hermione crawled over the wreckage strewn about the little bedroom, pulling nearer to the bedside. Sure enough, the both lenses in his glasses were cracked.

She reached out, and pulled his glasses away, tentatively sweeping his hair back as she did so. "Harry?"

The tears came suddenly, choking her. Harry's beautiful green eyes were open, staring blankly. Dead. Everything collapsed inward for Hermione, and she fought to stay upright. It was as though her very lungs were at war, trying at once to suck in a horrified gasp and let out a tremendous keening wail. Neither happened, and she wavered, unable to breathe. Her wand clattered to the floor, ignored, as she held hand to her mouth to stifle something, whatever it was that was clawing its way out of her throat.

She touched his chest, and made a noise deep in her throat as she felt that he was still warm, still firm, still felt like the boy she wanted to curl up next to on a date. But there was no slow pull of his breathing, no heartbeat to soothe her.

Hermione pulled herself away, and was very quietly sick on the floor, heaving until her throat burned with bile. She stopped, and turned back to look at Harry. At Harry's body.

She shivered at the thought, and fought the urge to be sick again.

His stocking feet were protruding from the tangle of his trousers, his glasses askew on his pale forehead, and Hermione shook her head convulsively. No, she thought, no, the Order, the damned Ministry, they don't get to see him like this.

With shaking hands, Hermione fumbled with the pants, easing them off limp legs. She slid his legs back onto the bed fully, and pulled the thin cover up to his chest. She smoothed the sheets with her hand, and a loud sob escaped suddenly. With a gasp, Hermione smothered her tears again, and retrieved Harry's fallen wand. It was worn, the dark polish scuffed and dulled by hard use. Such an unassuming, common looking wand. Hermione liked it very much. With a more confident voice than she felt, Hermione tapped Harry's glasses with the tip of his wand.

"Occulus Reparo." The cracks in the lenses sealed themselves with a puff of smoke.

Hermione, with soft touches closed Harry's green eyes, and eased his worn silver glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose. She smoothed back his stubbornly unruly hair, then turned her head abruptly as a white shadow fluttered through the shattered window. Harry's owl had returned.

"He's not here, Hedwig," Hermione said unevenly. "I'm sorry, I couldn't- couldn't..."

Hermione turned away from the impassive gaze of the snowy owl, rested her cheek on her boyfriend's still form, and let the sobbing overtake her. For a time that was all there was for Hermione, wracking open-mouth tears against Harry's smooth chest.

And then, slowly, shakily, she gathered herself together. Hermione wiped her eyes and slid Harry's wand into one of the pockets of her skirts. She bent and retrieved her own wand, slipping it into the matching pocket. She tottered to unsteady legs and left Harry's little room looking for the Dursleys. The master bedroom was empty, and Dudley's refuse-strewn flop was similarly deserted. She wiped her eyes, and looked downstairs towards the small foyer. The Dursleys' green-painted front door was ajar, swinging slowly in the gentle night breeze. There was no noise from downstairs, and Hermione couldn't summon any desire to run and try to find Harry's awful relatives just then. Instead she found herself standing there, frozen, staring out into the dark. She couldn't help but replay the evening over and over behind her eyes, an endless loop of torment just for her. But one word stuck out in her mind, what the Death Eater had said before Hermione had cut him down too late. Hangleton. Hermione blinked.

She knew where Tom Riddle was.

Feeling unsteady and somehow disconnected from her legs, she turned away from the empty and dark house and walked back through the wreckage of Harry's bedroom door.

Hermione kept her eyes averted from the still figure on the bed, knowing she would loose control again if she looked up. Instead she turned away and riffled through the wreckage of Harry's trunk until she found the slippery silvered fabric of his father's Invisibility Cloak. She stroked it, lost in her memories as she fought her tears back again. Shaking her thoughts off, she tossed it over her arm, and rooted around amongst the strewn bits for the sneakoscope Ron had given Harry years back. She found it, and slipped it into the tattered backpack she found on the floor near the wardrobe. Harry's rebuilt Potter's Pez was tossed into the backpack.

Propped up inside the wardrobe was his Firebolt, the rich finished pocked with discoloured patches from the repairs after last year's fight against the Death Eaters. Hermione swept it up as well; she hated flying, but Harry had proven time and again that fighting from the air gave one a distinct advantage. She shuddered, and knew she'd need every iota of an advantage she could eke out in the next hours.

Hermione moved over the Harry's desk and set the broom down on top, startling Hedwig into a ruffling of her feathers and shifting across the desk. Hermione ripped a page out of Harry's Transfiguration textbook, and wrote a quick note. She folded it up and wrote 'Ron Weasley' in the clear space of the margin.

Turning to the snowy owl, Hermione held the note just out of reach. "Hedwig, I... I need you to deliver this to Ron at the Quibbler. But not for a half-hour, okay? It's important, or else he'll follow me to Little Hangleton. Do you understand?"

Hedwig's wide amber eyes stared into Hermione's wavering red-rimmed ones. The owl craned its' agile neck forward and accepted the letter, then sprung from the desk in a whisper of feathers and disappeared into the night.

Hermione double-checked that she had both wands in her pockets, and that everything she could think of using in a fight was accounted for. They were, and she could put off no longer. Hermione turned back to Harry's body on the bed, and chewed her lip while she willed her tears to stay away long enough for her to say goodbye. "I'm going to get them, H- Harry. I promise."

It didn't seem right, for that to be all she should say. A pained smile crossed her usually friendly face as she remembered her Keats, and she knelt down next to the bed. "'I must stoop my head, and kiss death's foot, love. Farewell!'"

She bent her head, then paused with a hitch in her chest. Taking a steadying breath and blinking furiously, she finished bending to kiss Harry's still lips one last time.

Hermione cried silently, her lips gently touching Harry's. Merlin, she thought, I'm going mad; I'd swear Harry was stroking the back of my head! I've lost him, and now I'm losing my mind. She pressed her forehead against Harry's, sniffling as her tears fell upon his face.

"Shh, don't cry, Hermione."

Hermione jerked back with an agonized gasp, and Harry sat up to follow her! Hermione, trembling, reached out a hand towards him, then jerked it back quickly. With the reflexes of a Seeker, Harry captured her hand in his, and guided it to his chest. She felt his heart beating fast, and the shaky emotions in his breathing.

With one hand trapped over his heart, Hermione found herself speaking through the other. "I- I thought you were... you know."

Harry swallowed. "I'm pretty sure I was, actually."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no. No, you can't have been- been..."

Harry gave her a sickly smile. "Dead?"

She lunged forward to press his lips closed with her free hand. "Shh! Don't say that! You can't have been!"

Harry gasped a bit, and pressed his forehead against her palm. There had been an endless moment where he didn't think he ever would feel Hermione's touch ever again. He smiled, unseen by her in the dark. "You wouldn't believe how glad I am to see you again, Hermione."

There was a long pause following this, and Harry looked up. Without warning, Hermione launched herself at him, shoving him back onto the bed. Unexpectedly, it was accompanied by a rain of blows across his chest as she pounded on him.

"I wouldn't believe! I wouldn't! You- you," she spluttered, all her words lost. She gave up hitting him, fell across Harry as her tears returned.

Harry stroked the back of her head, near tears himself but still delighted in the feel of her hair between his fingers. "It's okay, Hermione. I'm okay. Nothing's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong?" Hermione turned her head sideways so she could speak. "Of course something's wrong, you were dead! Don't tell me nothing's wrong!"

He rubbed her shoulders, her hair, her arms as he comforted them both. "I thought you said I can't have been."

She sniffled, and laughed, and cried all at once. "I'm not up to being reasonable right now."

He had to laugh at this, even if it was a watery one. "Me either."

Eventually she managed to quiet her tears enough to look up at Harry. "You're really here?"

Harry poked his bicep twice, then prodded Hermione's shoulder the same way. "Yeah, it looks like."

"And you're not leaving again?" The look she shot him was scared and accusative all at the same time.

Harry blinked, thinking of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. There was no way he could know what would happen in the days ahead, but that didn't matter just now. "I promise."

Hermione rested her chin on his hard sternum. "After mummy... after my mum ... was killed... Harry, I don't want to lose you too."

"You won't," Harry said. "I'm in love, I'm not about to lose that."

Hermione pushed herself up a little at that, grabbing his shoulders to look him square in the eye. "What did you say?"

Harry knew in some part of his mind that he should be flushed right now, embarrassed about what he'd just admitted. He'd never been able to use that word before, not to describe how he felt. Somehow, at this moment, his feeling just seemed to flow from his heart to his mouth in a way that felt right. "I'm in love. With you, I mean, and you're not going to loose me."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Then she surged forward, finding herself kissing him. Part of her took note of his mouth moving on hers, and she hastily revised her definitions. She always thought kissing was the delicate, gentle thing they'd first done four months ago and snogging was the more passionate embraces they'd occasionally had found the opportunity to sneak when they were alone. Now she wasn't so sure; Harry's kiss was absolutely passionate, but there was just too much to it for her to call it snogging. Then he put a hand to the back of her head, the other dipping low behind her, and she decided to shelve the ontological debate 'til later.

"Harry! Are you- Oh... " At the sound of Remus Lupin's worried voice from the doorway, Hermione rolled off of Harry's chest so fast she nearly slipped off the bed. Only a quick catch by her boyfriend saved her from sprawling across the floor in an undignified heap. Not, she thought, that being clutched to her boyfriend's chest in his bed was particularly more dignified.

The two teens struggled to sit up together, the narrowness of the camp bed making it difficult to accommodate two people who weren't stacked atop one another. After a moment's tussle that nearly landed Hermione on the floor again, she pressed Harry into the bed with one hand, and got up by herself. It may have been dark, but he still caught the flustered glare she shot him.

Harry shot to his feet, and called to the old werewolf now hiding behind the door. "Professor Lupin! The Death Eaters, they were here!"

His Defense professor poked his head around the door, and offered a wan smile at his two now-vertical students. His lit wand was raised, at last bringing some light to the room. "Remus, Harry. And I rather suspected that, given the scorch marks. What I can't piece together is why you were fooling around on the bed, rather than calling for help."

Hermione just ducked her head at this. Harry, however, felt a need to say something. "It's not what it looks like!"

Remus' wandlight dropped fractionally, just enough to make it obvious he was looking down at the fact Harry was wearing only his boxers. Flushing, Harry grabbed the bedsheets and wound them around his hips. "Professor! We weren't-"

"Please," Remus interrupted. "At times like this, let me just be Uncle Remus. And it's all right Harry, Hermione. I was once a young wizard myself, during the last war. I understand the desire to... feel more alive, after a close brush with death, if you take my meaning."

Harry's jaw dropped as his teacher tried to set the two of them at ease. He was too embarrassed to look directly at Hermione, but out of the corner of his eye it looked like she was trying to use wandless magic to disappear, or let the floor open up and swallow her. Harry recognized the feeling.

Meanwhile, Remus was continuing inexorably forward with his speech, like some horrifying nightmare sex education lesson. "At times like these, it's perfectly natural to, what's the phrase? 'Take a loving relationship to the next level' was I think how James' father worded it. Just remember, although it's perfectly natural to have certain... feelings... your love, respect, and commitment are the real keys to a successful relationship. Also, I feel I should point out here there are certain preventative spells and potions you should know about first, before you go jumping into bed together."

"We did not jump into bed together after the Death Eaters left," Harry answered hotly. "I was in bed when they arrived, thank you!"

Hermione's head shot up at this, and she stared wide eyed at him, her expression unreadable. Remus fought to contain a chuckle, and Harry replayed in his head just what his last words were. He didn't know he could blush any more, but now it felt like his face was burning. "That didn't come out right. I meant-"

Hermione reached over and slapped a hand across his mouth, silencing him. Her voice, when she spoke, was remarkably even given how red her face was. "I think you've said enough for now, Harry."

"Remus! Have you found 'em?" Shocking pink hair and a union jack shirt rounded the doorway, and tumbled to an ungainly halt against Lupin's side. Tonks pulled up short, looking Harry up and down as he clutched his sheets around his waist. "Wotcher, Harry. Guess you didn't exactly need rescuing."

Hermione's mouth twitched to one side in irritation, and Tonks burst into a giggling fit. "Course, maybe you do if you blew the door off, eh?"

Harry's irritated look joined Hermione's, and Remus took the opportunity to shoo Tonks back out of the door. "We'll let you two... get cleaned up, and we'll be taking you back to Headquarters."

"No time for anything else, lover-boy," Tonks called out, laughing, as she was dragged down the stairs.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands, and he kept licking his lips. Finally, he broke the silence. "At least it wasn't Fred and George."

"Oh yes, because the last of the Marauders and Nymphadora are ever so much better," she answered hotly.

Harry tossed the sheets away and took her by the shoulders. "I'm not embarrassed they caught us kissing. I just don't want them assuming you're doing things you don't want to be doing."

Hermione sighed heavily, and gave her boyfriend a peck on the cheek. "Let's just get what's left in here gathered up, and we can get out of here. Hopefully, we can just forget about Professor Lupin's little speech."

"Sounds good," answered Harry as he hunted around for his least damaged clothes. "And I see I'm not the only one who can't stop calling him 'Professor.'"

Hermione had gathered most of his things in his invisibility cloak, and used it like a giant sack. "But Harry? When we get there, I don't think we should tell anyone about... you know."

He leaned over to her. "Me dying?"

She winced. "Yes. That."

Harry grunted, and tugged on the green shirt Hermione had thrown at him earlier. He wasn't so sure he liked the idea of keeping such a huge secret. On the other hand, he also didn't very well want to tell the whole Order that he was even more unusual than before, even more The-Boy-Who-Lived than they had thought. Finally struggling into his trousers, Harry nodded, deciding that in almost every circumstance, it was best to go with Hermione's advice. He grabbed Hedwig's cage and his backpack full of spell books, and followed her out of the ruined bedroom.

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The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

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A scarce minute later Remus pressed Harry and Hermione through the heavy front door to 12 Grimmauld Place as Tonks kept a watchful eye over the dark and empty street. Harry jerked to a halt just inside the door, and Hermione slipped around him before similarly pulling up short.

The entry way was sheer bedlam. The ancient portrait of Sirius' mother had been blown off the wall, and from the smoke and debris, it had happened very recently. Along both of the hallway walls were wounded men and women, propped up and hastily bandaged. The Hogwarts school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, and one other mediwizard were rapidly emptying a cart of healing potions as they worked. Several Order members and a couple of wizards in Auror blue robes were tramping up the stairs at the far end of the hall, obviously worn ragged and headed for the upper floor bedrooms. Over the din of voices from the hall, they could hear that still more people were in the various first floor rooms.

The two teens were jostled forward as Remus and Tonks entered behind them and secured the doors. Tonks ran past, for once not displaying her usual clumsiness as she stepped over people's outstretched legs, headed for the library. Remus stepped around Harry, took them by shoulders and guided them to one side of the hall.

"You two weren't the only ones attacked tonight," Remus said in a low voice, his eyes sad. "Stay here for a moment while I report in. I'll come get you afterwards, I promise."

Harry nodded mutely, still looking around the foyer in shock.

Hermione's hand found her boyfriend's as she looked around. "Oh my word, Harry..."

His intense green eyes found hers. "We can help."

She stood still, shocked, and watched him heading up to the Hogwart's nurse before following after him. "We can?"

Madam Pomfrey looked up as Harry and Hermione knelt next to her, and glared briefly before returning to slathering orange salve on a nasty burn. "Mister Potter! I should have known I'd find you amongst the injured! Really, couldn't you wait until the start of term, for heaven's sake?"

"I'm not hurt ma'am," Harry said, passing her the eyedropper of serum to harden the Scorcher's Salve. "We want to help."

The Hogwart's Healer looked him over for a long moment, then did the same to Hermione. Seeing something she liked, she nodded stiffly. "You'll do, for those in the hallway at least. There's a triage in the sitting room; leave that to the experienced healers."

With that she pushed herself to her feet unsteadily and headed for the open doorway, potion and blood stains on her white nurse's smock. At the last moment she paused to shake a finger at them. "And for heaven's sake, don't waste the potions. We don't know if we're getting any more coming in tonight, and we may need what's left in that cart!"

"We won't," Hermione called after the nurse, but the old woman was already gone

Working together, Harry and Hermione started down the row of wounded along the right hand side of the hall. By unspoken agreement, the Healer they'd seen earlier seemed to be moving along the left hand wall. Harry's one class with Madam Pomfrey was sorely tested he used spellwork to set broken bones and conjured bandages. Although he knew a number of the potions, it turned out Hermione was a defter touch, and she lead the way dosing people with Post-Cruciatus droughts and Blood Replenishing Potions. By the time they'd finished with two ministry office workers and had started in on the second of the Aurors, they were moving in a quiet synchronization. Harry dropped a small vial into her hand, and she thanked him with a tight smile as she poured a dollop over a superficial cut. Harry still hadn't recovered his wand, and instead swept his hand over the Auror's side as he cast a couple of healing charms.

Checking him over, there didn't seem to be any more that needed to be done, and so the two teens moved on to the next person along the wall. Harry pulled up short, seeing Minister Percy Weasley sitting there, pressing a blood sodden handkerchief to his forehead. For a moment, Harry could only think of how often over the last few years Percy had set himself against his own family, Harry, Dumbledore, and even common decency. Then he blinked the thought away and turned back to the cart to fetch another vial for Hermione.

Minister Weasley looked at the potion he handed off to Hermione, and spoke sourly. "Do you know what you're doing?"

Harry stiffened, but Hermione replied for him. "Do you, Minister?"

It was Percy's turn to bristle as even he caught the derision in her use of his title. But he kept his mouth a tight, thin line and didn't speak as they worked on him, so Harry decided to call it a win. After a minute of the most uncomfortable silence Harry could remember offhand, one of the Weasley twins bounded out of the ground floor library and skidded to a stop behind Hermione.

"Hey, you two," the twin Harry thought might have been George began. "You haven't got a potion to fix what's wrong with Grand High Bighead Weatherby there. Just come on, there's loads of people you need to talk to."

Their work for the most part finished, Harry and Hermione pushed themselves upright and followed after George. Along the way, Hermione retrieved her wand from her pocket and cast a few quick Scourgifies to clean their hands of blood and potions. At the open doorway into the Library there was a brief fumble as they tried to decide how to hold hands before walking into the Order meeting. Eventually Hermione took his hand and laced her fingers into it before they straightened their shoulders and marched in.

The library was a different form of bedlam from the entryway, with magicks being loudly used left right and center. The fireplaces on both sides of the room were awash with green flame, with Order members hunched over in Floo calls, and yelling back reports to others in the room. Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge stood on the dusty and darkened drapes that had been recently ripped from the walls and left crumpled on the floor. The tall and wide expanse of windows were liberally papered with bits of parchment pinned in place by means of sticking charms, forming a grandly crude map of Great Britain. The notes listed the names and conditions of Wizarding and Magical settlements and sites, and a disturbing number of them were charmed to flash red. A quick look showed that there had been attacks at the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's Hospital, Hogsmead villiage, and Diagon Alley. A couple of pages listed attacks at sites Harry had never heard of before; the Ynys Avallach International Floo Terminal in Wales and the matching terminal in Burgandy, three Gringott's branches that Harry could see, and an island called Dunazkabey. There was even a flashing scrap of paper indicating an attack on Hogwarts itself.

"Oh Harry, it looks like the Blitz," Hermione gasped.

He shook his head, not sure exactly what she meant by that, but was too overwhelmed to ask. "How... how could they do all this in one night?"

"The Death Eaters appear to have rebuilt their numbers after their rout at Malfoy Manor," Dumbledore said as he appeared at Harry's elbow. "It is, as Miss Granger said, a lighting war."

"I thought most of them were captured?" Hermione's voice was strained.

"Hmm, yes, or killed," Dumbledore agreed easily. "Harry's sudden appearance in their midst crippled their organization, to be sure, And your own small group brought down a number of those Death Eaters now residing in Azkaban, Miss Granger. I can only assume our adversary has found a way to bring in 'outside help,' shall we say. And I am sure that Tom thinks it to be is ironic that they should coincide with the eve of Lughnasad."

"But why?" Harry couldn't look away from the huge and terrible map as he spoke. "Why attack everyone now, after hiding all this time?"

"Although it is only a guess, I would say that whatever Tom Riddle had hoped to achieve with his long silence is either in his grasp or irrelevant at this point." The Headmaster sounded tired and sad. "As for the rest of it, I believe he is is intending to broaden the scope of this war, by bringing his panic, mayhem, and terror to all of the Wizarding world. And now, perhaps a question of my own, Harry? Would you tell me what happened at your aunt's house tonight?"

Harry turned at this to look at Dumbledore, then swung back just as sharply as Hermione pulled on his hand. Her dark brown eyes were burning with unidentifiable emotions, and when it looked as though Harry was going to speak, she jumped in abruptly and with more volume than strictly necessary. "We were attacked by Death Eaters, about five of them I think. Harry and I fought them off, sir. When they Portkeyed out, two of them were fine, and two or three were injured. Then I checked the house, and we couldn't find the Dursleys. We were about to contact the Order when Professor Lupin arrived."

"Indeed? How remarkable." Dumbledore glanced between the two teens, grey eyebrows raised. Hermione ducked under this scrutiny before visibly shaking her head and meeting his gaze with perfectly calm equanimity. Harry looked over at her and smiled that she could pull that look of haughty confidence and certainty off at a time like this. He could only manage to meet the Headmaster's gaze in fits and starts.

Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes seemed to bore into both of them, silently asking for more information. When neither seemed inclined to speak, Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and moved closer to the map, and continued. "Then the attack on the Dursleys was one of the largest tonight, Harry. In contrast to his first rise to power, tonight has seen the Death Eaters attack in small numbers, Apparating in and disappearing by Portkey. In the case of Ynys Avallach, they were even sighted arriving by broomstick. These attacks begin and end so quickly that neither the Order nor the Ministry has been able to respond in time."

Harry shook his head and squinted at the map alongside his mentor, trying to digest all of this. "So this isn't what they did twenty years ago?"

"No." Dumbledore looked over at Harry briefly, expectantly, before returning his gaze to the map.

Harry thought there was something he wasn't getting, and he turned to look at Hermione for support. She had one hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror. That's when it clicked for him, and a great sinking sensation hollowed him out completely. He turned back to the map, numb with dread that the old Headmaster would agree with the next thing he said. Harry didn't want to, but he had to say this.

"He got this from me, didn't he? Voldemort, I mean. He... you said my 'sudden appearance' at the Manor hurt them! And Hermione's 'small group' arriving by Portkey! He... he came up with this because of me."

"I believe so, Harry." Dumbledore turned to take the suddenly shattered young man by the shoulder, and steer him gently to a seat.

Hermione flowed along after him immediately, her shock forgotten and her voice quite clear as she spoke. "Harry! Don't you dare blame yourself for this, so help me I'll hex you into next week!"

Harry looked up at this, shocked by the vehemence in her voice. She squatted down until she could look him evenly in the eye, her expression and voice softening as she continued. "We've read about wars in Professor Binn's class, remember? Every war, people found more effective ways to fight. And every time, people on the other side have emulated the winners. Look, even I've copied Voldemort's better ideas. The idea for the Galleons I charmed in the Defense Association? That's from those horrible Marks he brands his followers with. It's not your fault he's finally decided to crib a page from your book, Harry. It's not! You're the only person to keep handing him his hat, and it was inevitable that he'd have to get wise sooner or later."

Harry nodded along, pushed into agreeing with his girlfriend's reasoning.

Dumbledore watched as Doge levitated another parchment up to its place on the windows and stick it there with a quick stream of orange sparks. He sighed heavily, conjured a well padded ottoman for himself next to Harry, and settled himself on it. "It is simply unfortunate that the many vulnerable targets of the Wizarding world make your tactics far more effective for Voldemort than for us."

Hermione shot her Professor a bald glare that said in no uncertain terms that she felt he was not helping. Anything further she would have said was cut off by the the familiar clunk-clunk-clunk of Mad-Eye Moody stumping up behind them.

Dumbledore sighed. "Back from Dunazkabey so soon, Alastor?"

"Not much point to stomping around any longer," the aged ex-Auror said gruffly as he dragged a battered wooden chair up and settled onto it. "Everyone's gone or dead."

The lines in Albus' face seemed to deepen a bit at this. "As we expected then, but disheartening nonetheless."

Moody's lopsided and scarred face bent into something like a smile. "They only got a handful though. Rest spread all over hill and dale already."

Dumbledore nodded. "Fortunately Minister Weasley hasn't ignored everything he has been told."

Harry listened to all of this with a blank face, clearly confused. Finally Hermione finished dragging a chair over to his side, and he could lean over to whisper in her ear. "Do you know what they mean by Dunazkabey?"

Hermione wrinkled her noise at him as she whispered back. "How could you go to a school in the Scottish Highlands for six years and not learn at least some Gaelic?"

Harry shrugged, and she continued with a small shake of her head. "Harry, it means the Island Fortress of Azkaban."

Harry pulled back an inch to look at her full in the face, shocked and angry. "Another breakout?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, leaning away from Moody to interject into Harry and Hermione's sidebar. "Although the Ministry had acted wisely for once in living memory and divvied up the captured Death Eaters amongst various places. As such Tom didn't retrieve the whole compliment of his imprisoned followers this time."

Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm and asked the questions he had on the tip of his tongue. "How many, sir? And who did Voldemort retrieve?"

"Only two." Dumbledore paused, looking very much as if he was weighing his words more carefully. "The younger Mister Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Well, it would take a shovel to retrieve the elder Mister Malfoy, wouldn't it?" Even Harry was surprised by the acid in his voice.

His Headmaster looked sad. "Indeed they would, Harry."

Harry shook his head, trying to lose the bite of venom he felt. It seemed so inappropriate, with Hermione sitting next to him, to be that bitter and vicious. It wasn't the kind of boyfriend he wanted to be for her. He rubbed at his scar. "Sorry. It's just... I'm getting fed up with fighting the same people over and over again."

"You and me both, kid." Moody was working his heavily carved artificial leg back and forth, looking as though it was bothering him. "Gotta remember, I caught Lestrange the first time sixteen years ago."

Hermione tried a weak smile. "On the bright side, Draco Malfoy isn't nearly as clever as he thinks he is. With any luck, he'll lead every Auror in the squad back to whatever hole they've crawled into."

Harry managed something between a nod and a shake of the head. "Do you remember back when we thought he was the brains of his little Slytherin bully squad?"

"He was. We just like Crabbe and Goyle a little better now, even if they aren't well-oiled intellects." She smirked at him, for a moment. Then her dark eyes resumed their serious expression and she turned to the Headmaster. "Sir, what about all the people here in the house? Why hasn't everyone been moved to St. Mungo's yet?"

Dumbledore gestured briefly at the wall of parchment "St. Mungo's was, I am afraid, one of Voldemort's targets tonight."

Alastor grunted. "Still in business, thank Merlin. But it'll be a bit before they can start taking in the wounded again. And those miserable masked bastards hit three other places right here in London tonight."

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "Indeed. As such, the Ministry has found itself needing a temporary shelter and hospital, which Grimmauld Place is somewhat obviously providing."

"We can help," Harry said earnestly, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

For the first time that night Dumbledore smiled a little, some of the old twinkle returning to his eyes. "From what I have seen thus far, the two of you have already been helping."

Hermione shot Harry a brief look, and took the lead in the conversation again. "What can we do?"

"For now, get some rest, the both of you," Dumbledore replied gently. "And as soon as practicable, leave Grimmauld place and do not return."

"What?" Harry started at this. "But we can-"

"Harry! Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said soothingly, a hand up to forestall further protests. "I understand your desire to do all that you can, I do. But you must realize that the Fidelius Charm that had protected this house had to be removed before it could be used as a hospital. Consequently, both of you are much less safe here than you used to be."

Hermione's response was stiffly proper. "We don't care."

"You most certainly do, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a sad smile. "You simply will not allow that care to stand between you and what you feel needs to be done. Admirable, both of you. But please know that I very much care what happens to both of you, and although we must make do for tonight, please allow yourselves the thought of finding a safe refuge until the first of September."

Harry tried not to look bitter. "Will you be sending me to Hogwarts, then?"

He shook his head, his long silver hair surrounding him. "No, Harry. The elves and staff are all away from the castle, helping to repair and ward the many places Tom has harmed tonight. Once they are done, Hogwarts herself needs certain repairs, following his rather futile bid to enter by force, and I am certain that elf-magic or no, we will be hard pressed to finish the work before school resumes."

Harry shook his head. "Where will I go, then? The Burrow is closed up for the summer."

"Indeed, we do seem to have a small problem on our hands." Dumbledore smiled indulgently and stood, his richly embroidered robes sweeping about him. "However, I do enjoy tackling the small problems, Harry, as that I can usually resolve them. Let's sleep for now, and perhaps by light of day, some answer or another will have struck me."

Harry squinted at his Headmaster, suddenly certain that the aged wizard already knew what he wanted to do, and was postponing telling him until tomorrow. Harry decided that his head already hurt, it had been a terrifying and long night, and perhaps just this once he could wait for answers until the morning. "Alright, sir."

"Good," Dumbledore nodded with a wink. "The Aurors are stationed on the the first floor, with the Order members sleeping on the second and third floors. Perhaps you can find yourselves some space left on the third floor, then?"

Hermione nodded, and led Harry from the room.

Alastor's rough growl turned him around just before he left the room. "And Potter? I talked to Tonks on the way in. Remember to conjure two sleeping bags."

As the import of Moody's subtle emphasis sunk in, Harry flushed. Deciding that he'd heard from Hermione something or other about what the better part of valour was, he left the room rapidly.

Out in the main hallway, Hermione seemed determined to drag Harry upstairs as fast as possible. But he had six years of Quidditch in his favor, and managed to steer her into the hall lavatory and quickly latched the door behind them. A second of though, and he quickly sealed the door and silenced it as well.

Hermione turned to face him, her mouth quirked as she leaned a hip on the vanity. "This won't exactly shut Mad-Eye and Tonks up, Harry."

He leaned back against the bathroom door. "Up there, we'll be surrounded by the Order. We won't be able to talk, and who knows what Dumbledore will do tomorrow."

Hermione sighed. "You want to talk about why I don't want to tell the Order about your mysterious resurrection."

"Not really." Harry grinned a little at her wide-eyed shock. It wasn't often he could completely surprise her. "I'm starting to get used to the Wizarding world changing their tune from hero and villain and back again every week. Who knows what they'd say about me if they found out about this."

Hermione screwed her face up in worry. "Harry, this is bigger than the whole Boy-Who-Lived nonsense. This... this whatever it is that happened tonight, Harry, it's out there with Merlin and Gryffindor. What if the Ministry decided that this means you're immortal? They might stop fighting Voldemort, and say 'let's have Harry deal with it all'?"

Harry started to worry, his eyes darting from side to side. "I can't be immortal! The prophecy said one of us has to die at the hand of the other, so it probably means that some random Death Eater can't kill me, that's all. And I know he's a prat, but Percy wouldn't-"

"Harry, Percy is the one who sent those Aurors into the Great Hall last year." She twisted her hands together as she spoke. "He nearly got me killed, because he's completely out of his depth, and I think he'd do anything to find a way out. And I'm sure you're not immortal Harry, but who knows what people will do, what they'll ask you to do, if they find out about tonight."

Harry forced his nervousness down with a deep breath and stepped up to Hermione. "Okay. I hadn't exactly thought about all that, but I already agreed with you about not telling anyone about tonight."

"You're not thinking of telling Dumbledore?" Her voice was a tiny thing.

"No." Harry tentatively touched the back of her hand, not sure if holding her hand was alright with her just now. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. You know, after everything tonight."

Hermione stared at him silently, and words just kept falling out of him as though he couldn't stop speaking. "It's just... I can't imagine thinking you were dead. I don't know what I'd do, and I know you actually had to think that for a minute there, and I know it's not really my fault, but I'm really sorry you had to deal with that. And if you want to talk about it, we can, and I wanted you to be able to, you know."

"I can't loose you again, Harry." Hermione looked down as she spoke, focusing instead on where her hand was absently playing with the collar on his shirt.

Harry trapped her hand, and smiled. "You won't. I promise."

Without preamble, Harry leaned down to kiss his girlfriend. Hermione pulled her head back at the last moment, and their faces stalled an inch apart. Hesitantly, she leaned into him, and very briefly touched her lips to his. Harry leaned back, and found that she had her eyes open the whole time.

Harry bit his lip. "Hermione? Do you... Um, do you not like me anymore?"

Hermione's hand moved from his collar to his chin as she shook her bushy head vigorously. "I'm sorry Harry. Of course I love you."

"Okay." Harry stroked the back of her head, not sure what was going on just now.

With a suddenness that seemed out of place, Hermione surged against Harry in a desperate kiss. One small hand twisted itself in his messy hair, the other still grasped his collar as her teeth collided against his. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Harry realized their cheeks were wet with tears. Eventually the burst of hunger in their kiss wound down, and Harry moved his hands to safer territory from where they'd wandered of their own accord.

Hermione pulled back and rested her forehead against Harry's, breathing deeply with her eyes closed. "I'm sorry, it's just... I just realized my boyfriend came back from the dead. It's... confusing."

Harry's voice was rough. "Anything to go on a proper date with you."

"I'm shaking, Harry." Hermione sniffled. "Why wasn't I shaking before, and why start now. It's ridiculous!"

He kissed her forehead, knowing enough at least to realize she wasn't looking for an answer to her questions. Instead he tried to smooth down her terribly messy hair and just be there next to her. "Shake all you want, it's okay. I usually get jittery right before something happens. Ron goes hysterical right afterwards. Only fitting you wait a bit before-"

"Ron," Hermione gasped. "Oh no! I sent an owl to Ron!"

"Huh," Harry asked intelligently as his girlfriend shoved him aside and fumbled at the door.

It was still sealed, and Hermione fought to get her wand out of her skirt pocket. Hurriedly she unsealed the doorway and flung the lavatory door open. Both she and Harry tumbled out, flushed and wild-haired.

Auror Dawlish was leaning against the dark and dusty wall of the main hall just outside the bathroom door, the tapping of his foot suggesting that he'd been waiting for the room become unoccupied. Hermione very nearly sent him sprawling as she collided with him, before caroming off down the hall.

Harry started after her, but Dawlish's rough drawl stopped him. "I never figured that annoying busybody of yours for a tumble in a bathroom. Does she like men in uniform?"

Instead of following Hermione, Harry spun in place and dropped the most solid punch he could land on Dawlish's jaw. It lacked the grace Hermione managed when decking Draco, but it was enough to bounce the large Auror off the wall. Dawlish drew his wand, and wiped a trace of blood from his split lip as he eyed Harry speculatively.

"Striking an officer of the Peace?" Dawlish smiled. "Thanks, Potter. Tonight's looking up."

Harry put a hand to his pocket, realizing suddenly he didn't have his wand. There was a second's pause before the fight erupted in full measure.

Hermione had already reached the other end of the hall, and was in no position to do anything about Harry's situation as the front door to Grimmauld Place was rudely thrown open. The injured Aurors all pulled wands on the intruders, nearly taking Ron's head off as he stormed in, tears running down his face. Behind him were an equally devastated Ginny and and surprisingly calm Luna.

Hermione skidded to a stop, trying to gesture with one hand for Ron to remain silent, and with the other for the Aurors to lower their wands. "Ron! He's with us! Don't cast anything!"

Ron barely noticed the Auror's wands trained upon him, seeing only Hermione before him. "Harry's dead," he managed to choke out.

"He's fine," Hermione hissed in a near panic.

"What's this?" Hermione and Ron both turned to see Minister Percy Weasley struggling to his feet nearby. "Harry's dead?"

Ron lunged at his older brother, clipping an Auror who tried to interpose himself between the two. "You! If you'd done anything bloody useful in your sodding life, maybe he'd have been protected!"

Hermione and Luna dragged Ron backwards, as one of the Aurors pulled Percy the opposite direction. Hermione shoved herself between the two struggling redheads, and dragged Ron's head down until his ear was level with her mouth. She whispered to him. "Ron! Shut up, Harry's fine!"

Ron reared back at this, still nearly yelling. "What? But your letter-"

Hermione concealed a solid punch to his arm as she pretended to push him further away from Minister Percy. "Shh!"

Into the midst of the mêlée, Harry himself arrived. He pushed easily past the Aurors, and took hold of Ron opposite Hermione. "Ron! Are you okay?"

Ron stared down at his dark haired friend for a moment, before sweeping him up into a huge hug. "Harry," he whooped. "You're alive!"

"Not if you keep squeezing me like that!"

Ron blushed to his ear tips and dropped Harry unceremoniously. Harry wobbled unsteadily to his feet before nearly loosing his balance again as Ginny hit him hard from one side. He wasn't the least bit sure what she was saying, but she was definitely trying to talk, cry, and hit him all at once.

Harry had barely managed to calm her down and escape with relatively few bruises when he found himself swung about to face Minister Percy.

The other tall redhead in the room was looking down his nose with what Harry suspected was an attempt at an appearance of authority, utterly ruined by his mop of curly red hair and ludicrous air of self importance. "Mister Potter, can you explain why my youngest brother just tried to attack me?"

"Isn't that everyone's response to you," Hermione sniffed at him, and tried dragging everyone away from the Aurors at the front door.

Somehow, Percy held tight to the thread of the conversation and refused to let go. "Now see here, why were they thinking he was dead?"

Suddenly Luna stepped out from behind Ron, and managed a complicated multi-part curtsy directed at the Minister of Magic that ended up stepping on the feet of the nearest Auror, flicking Percy in the face, and landing her wand neatly behind her ear, and somewhat accidentally pointing dead between the Minister's eyes. "I'm sorry about all the ruckus, as I could have easily started all this myself. Earlier today I took Ronald with me looking for Tadfoals in the lake outside Ottery St. Catchpole, which if you think about, really is a very silly name for a village. But the lake doesn't even have a name, not even a silly one, which is odd, since the village has three. If I'd been naming things, I'd have spared at least one for the lake, even if I couldn't find any Tadfoals.

"But while I had my head in the lake, something went running past along the forest edge, and while I didn't get a chance to see it, from Ronald's description I knew it was definitely a Blood-sucking Bugbear, or perhaps a boarhound. But the more I think about it, the more I think it could have been a Grim, and as we all know, Ronald has had several encounters with a Grim, or at the very least a completely innocent escaped Ministry prisoner who looked confusingly much like a Grim, so he definitely could have thought it was a Grim. And with all the attacks tonight, and the Grim in the forest, and the propensity for everyone in your family to worry a very great deal about everyone else, I'd imagine it was only natural to worry about Harry's safety.

"Incidentally Minister, I still think you should have the Heliotropes look into Azkaban prison, since holding people without trial for twelve years seems not altogether on the up and up, especially when they're innocent, don't you?"

Luna stopped abruptly, her large grey eyes blinking slightly at Minister Weasley from a very short distance away. To Harry it seemed as if she hadn't taken a single breath throughout the whole monologue, and he wondered idly if all of her seemly inane rants were actually this bloody brilliant.

Minister Percy goggled at her before shaking his head. He looked over Luna's dirty blond head to eye Ron suspiciously before clearing his throat. "For all the terribly poor lapses in judgment you've displayed over the years 'Ronald,' this is by far the most egregious."

Hermione managed to tow both Harry and Ron away from the door. Harry pulled loose a few feet away, and tossed a wand to Percy who couldn't catch it before it clattered to the floor. Harry smirked. "You might want to give that back to Dawlish when he wakes up."

With that Harry let himself be marched away and up the stairs. Behind him there was the unmistakable yelp of Ginny giving her older brother a taste of her opinion. Shortly thereafter, Ginny ran up behind them and followed them upstairs, her long red hair swinging behind her like a pennant.

Luna sighed. "I tried telling them you weren't dead, but they didn't believe me."

Ginny hit Harry again. "I am so mad at both of you, I can't even tell you!"

Hermione turned around briefly, her jaw tight. "Wait until we get someplace more... secure."

Harry gave them a resigned shrug. "We've got a lot to talk about."

Hermione gave him a worried look. "And do I want to know what you did to Dawlish?"

"No." Harry twinkled slightly. "But I promise it wasn't permanent."

Ron pushed open the first door he came to on the third floor, and peered about for passersby. "Okay, everybody in here. I want to hear about Harry not being dead, and I want to hear about it right bloody now!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as they all filed in, and quickly silenced the door. She reached into the other pocket of her skirt, and handed Harry his wand, so he could continue warding the door, as she set out to make the barren room a little more comfortable.

"You all might want to sit down," Hermione began. "It's been a bit of an evening so far."

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Chapter Three: Uncle Lupin and 'Dad'

* * *

The dingy third floor bedroom door squeaked open, casting the dim and dusty light from the room's windows onto the mouldering carpet of the black landing. Ron's ginger head peeked out, and seeing no one in the abbreviated third floor hall or on the stairs he opened the door enough to leave. Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ginny eased past him onto the landing, Harry with his slightly battered Firebolt slung over one shoulder. He had very few possessions left, and had decided sometime in the midst of recounting everything to Ron and Ginny that he should bring what was left along with him. Certainly, he wasn't letting the broom out of his sight. Hedwig really wasn't as accommodating, and so he had to content himself with the knowledge that she would find him again with little effort, once she'd finished her hunting.

With smooth movements, Ron inched the door closed after the others had passed by, making very little noise. He turned to look at everyone and wrinkled his nose. "I can't believe after all that talking last night, our brilliant plan is to sneak back to the Lovegoods' and hope no one notices Harry came back from the dead."

"First," Hermione answered acerbically, "the brilliant plan is for you three to sneak out before anyone wonders why you all came running last night, and second would you please shut up about You-Know-What!"

Ron blinked for a moment before a pleased smile appeared on his face. He turned to Harry and slapped his shoulder with the back of his hand. "Check it out, mate! V-Voldemort is 'You-Know-Who,' and now you're 'You-Know-What!' 'S actually pretty wicked if you think about it."

Harry smiled broadly. "At least it's better than 'The-Boy-Who-Lived.'"

Ginny and Hermione managed a synchronized eye-roll and huff. Luna just took Ron's arm and lead him down the stairs with a ridiculously overdone attempt at stealth.

The three left at the top of the stairs took in Ron and Luna's mincing tip-toe descent for a second, before Ginny addressed them in an aside. "I'm sure there's something witty I could say about my brother, but I'm tapped."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Quite."

They headed down side-by-side, leaving Harry to trail along in their wake. Everyone slowed noticeably as they eased past the doors behind which the Order members and Aurors were asleep. Finally they descended to the ground floor, which by the sickly light of day looked queerly abandoned. Bits of parchment, crumpled bandages, and shards of broken phials littered the floors along the walls, and the manky carpeting now had new holes, stains, and burns.

The wan light was broken by sudden shadows, and all five of them pulled back into the shadows of the stairs as people walked back and forth by the open doorway into the sitting room. Harry leaned down, the better to peer into the room through the balustrades. Several healers were moving between the camp beds of wounded crowding the room, and tending to a number of witches and wizards. One of the mediwizards looked up, and appeared to say something to his patient, a long wizard in pale robes, but no words came out. Harry turned to his girlfriend, perplexed.

"Silencing spell," she muttered back. "Probably an Imperturbable Charm as well."

"Right." Harry led the way, slipping past the open doorway when no one was looking. One by one the others slipped past as well. Fortunately, the library was emptied, although the blinking map of England still adhered to the windows. Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder opposite the racing broom, and led the way back though the rear passage toward the working part of the house.

The five teens crunched over some of the detritus as they slipped into the kitchen. Leading the way, Ron banged head first into one of the befouled pots hanging low from the ceiling, and he reached out quickly to silence it as it rattled against its neighbors. He turned a pale face back at the rest of them, all of whom had flinched at the brief bell-like gong that broke the stillness.

Everyone held their breath, and for a long moment listened to the silence. When it became apparent no one was coming, they blew out their breath as one.

Luna patted him on the cheek. "Ronald, you have to remember not to run into things like that. What if there was a Nargle infestation in there?"

Ron scuffed his trainers on the kitchen floor. "I'll remember that, then."

Hermione rolled her eyes again, and lit the fireplace with a muttered Incendio. Another incantation, and the heavy cauldron hanging in the center of the hearth drifted over to settle in a corner. "Well? Are you or are you not getting out of here before anyone starts asking questions?"

Luna pulled away from Ron and drew a pinch of Floo powder from the chipped gravy boat on the mantle. "Father should be working on the morning print run by now. I'll go ahead and let him know I was with Ronald last night."

Ron blanched as she tossed the powder into the flames, called out the name of the Quibbler's office, and disappeared into the green fires. Ron turned to look at Harry. "You don't reckon that'll sound as bad to her old man as that sounded to me, do you?"

"No Ron," Harry answered, eyes wide and his smile firmly repressed. "I think it'll sound worse."

"I've changed me mind." Ron nodded, and looked around the kitchen appraisingly. "I'll take on You-Know-Who, you face Mister Lovegood."

Harry's smile burst free at this. "I don't think I'm that brave, Ron."

Ron stared back at his friend. "I have complete faith in you, mate."

Ginny tossed her pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace before turning back to her brother and grinning impishly. "Just remember, 'Ronald,' facing Voldemort means you have to stay here, and that means sticking around Hermione. Still wanna trade?"

Ginny was swallowed in a gout of green flame as she Floo'd to the Lovegood home. Ron wrinkled his nose. At this, and darted to the fireplace. "Ugh, hadn't thought of that bit. Gotta go, see you two later!"

In a flare of green fire that ruffled Hermione's hair, Ron disappeared. Hermione looked dour as she circled the battered kitchen table to lean against Harry. "I think Ron's just insulted me."

"So, nothing's really different from usual, then?" Harry smiled down at her, a look that disappeared as she elbowed his sharply. Harry hastened to add, "And he's quite stupid, and insensitive, too."

"Better," Hermione sighed. "I may keep you."

"Really," Harry asked with a playfully hopeful note in his voice.

"Maybe," she answered in kind. "I haven't decided yet. I think I shall need to see how our first date goes, at the very least."

Harry poked her short ribs delicately. "What, all that kissing and you haven't made up your mind?"

"Mm-mmm," was her wordless reply. "I need more research, boyfriends really are a tricky subject. I should think it would take a month more to decide. Unless perhaps more research on kissing would speed things up?"

Harry turned, and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. Every now and again, Hermione managed to utterly surprise him, and this was one of those times. Staid, bookish, and prim Hermione Jane Granger was flirting with him! He had to grin widely at that thought. "So you need more kissing?"

"For research purposes." Except for a cocked eyebrow and pursed lips, she almost managed to look serious.

This did nothing to dampen his smile. "Well, you know I always want to help out with your studies."

Her expression barely changed, except for a faint narrowing of her eyes. "Rubbish, Harry. You just want to sit there while I do the studying. You never get anything done."

Harry leaned in closer, setting the Firebolt on the table behind her with a clatter. "Hermione, I promise I'll do more than just sit around for this research project."

"Promise?" Hermione closed her eyes as she stood on tip-toe to reach him. But their study plans came undone as a man cleared his throat from the corner of the room.

Hermione and Harry tumbled away from each other, both fumbling for wands before recognizing the wizard in the corner as Remus Lupin. The aging werewolf eased out of the shadows with a wan smile, entirely unperturbed to be looking down the shafts of a pair of wands. The young couple, however, was quite flustered. Remus let them stammer some mixture of welcomes and excuses for a few seconds. He may have been the responsible member of the Marauders, but he was still a Marauder; he almost had to let them twist in the wind a bit before stepping in. Eventually he decided to interrupt their fumbling attempts to explain what they were doing. "No need to explain what you were doing down here, alone. I think it fairly obvious, and I'd hope you wouldn't feel the need to keep it secret from me."

Hermione's brows knit, and Harry's rose. They looked at each other for a second, and their former Professor suppressed a smile at the very clear confusion on their faces. They looked back at him, still trying to figure out what to say, and Lupin let them twist a bit more before stepping in again. "I interrupted your... ah, romantic moment because I'm sure it wasn't something you wanted to share with an audience. But I'm well aware you didn't sneak down here for illicit trysting in a mouldering kitchen. You managed to get Ron and Luna out of here before anyone could ask them why they came here last night. And I'd imagine there's quite a story behind young Mister Weasey's premature pronouncement of your death."

Hermione stepped forward, wetting her lips. "Professor Lupin," she said shakily. "Please don't-"

"Just Remus," he interrupted gently. "And don't worry; I don't think anyone needs to hear anything about this from me. You're both quite clearly adults now. Whatever I may guess happened last night, and I stress that I am only guessing what happened, it's your business and yours alone."

"Thank you." Harry looked relieved.

"Don't thank me just yet, you two." Remus slid an old reference book toward them across the kitchen table, the bindings cracked and flaking. Hermione leaned over to flip through it carefully. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore asked me to speak to Doctor Granger on your behalf, but I think I'll leave it to you. Since both of you are adults, I think it only fitting you should be the one to ask your girlfriend's father for his permission."

Hermione shot up from the book, startled. Remus smiled benignly and continued. "Ask his permission to stay there through the end of summer, I should say. Dumbledore is convinced you should remain hidden amongst the Muggles 'til Hogwarts reopens, and who better to hide with than the brightest witch of your generation?"

"Excellent," said Harry, smiling widely again.

Hermione blinked as she tried to draw her focus back to the conversation at hand. "Pardon?"

Remus tucked his hands away in the coin pockets on his cardigan and edged around the table and towards the door. "It's the only sensible choice if you think about it, Hermione. No one will think to look for him in Oxford, and if they did, there'd be no wizarding community nearby to operate from. And can either of you imagine pure-blood supremacist wizards trying to puzzle out how to find someone in a Muggle city?"

Harry smiled, then frowned. "I can't see them figuring out 'Fellytone' directories, but won't they just use magic to find me again? I mean, isn't that how they found me last night?"

"And that, as I'm sure Hermione's already figured out, is the reason for the reference book." Remus didn't seem to notice when Hermione jerked to attention at the sound of her name. "It has every rune and charm you'll need to ward the Granger house. No tracking charms, no one in or out without you feeling it. In a day or so we should be able to get it under the Fidelius as well."

Harry nodded slowly. It wasn't perfect, but it was probably the best that could be managed. And while a part of him thought that being near Hermione might put her in danger, a louder voice in his head suggested that if something happened, he wanted to be there for her. "Okay then," was all he said.

"Good, Harry." Remus drew his wand, and saluted jauntily. "Then I'll be off. They'll need every wand they can get at St. Mungo's, trying to repair the damage."

And with a near silent pop, Remus Disapparated from the small kitchen. Harry paused for a beat before turning his most dazzling of smiles on Hermione.

"We should get going," Harry said earnestly, all thoughts fixed upon an uninterrupted month with Hermione Jane Granger.

"We can't!" She had a wide-eyed look Harry was only used to seeing on Ron.

"Sure we can, Hermione," he answered reasonably. "I can Apparate, and so can you. And there's nothing left to pack, so let's go!"

"It's not that," she said, worrying her lip.

Harry's smile faltered. "What is it then? Do you not want me staying there?"

For her part, Hermione looked downright queasy. "Harry, I've never brought a boyfriend home. Not even a friend who was a boy when I was a girl!"

"You still are a girl."

Hermione lost the queasy look, replacing it with a glare. "You know what I meant! When I was a little girl, Harry. Oh, this will be a problem."

Harry nodded in a manner which suggested strongly that he didn't get the point she was driving at. Hermione tried again. "Harry, my mum's gone... I'm daddy's little girl. Don't you see, he's going to be freakishly protective of me."

"I'm freakishly protective of you. We'll get along famously," he said with a smile. Hermione shot him a sour look, so he tried again. "Hermione, how bad could it possibly be?"

She cocked her head at him, and took on an all-too-familiar lecturing tone. "How bad could it be? Thirty-one days of 'what have you been doing with my daughter' looks, and you ask how bad it could be?"

Harry blinked, his face diplomatically blank. "Okay, that could be bad."

"Yes." Hermione managed to draw the word out flatly before steadying herself for her Apparation. "Plus, there's having you fifteen feet from me for a month, and not being able to kiss you the whole time. I should probably warn Dad before you get there. Eram Sumero!"

"What do you-," was all Harry managed before Hermione Disapparated with a sudden pop, leaving him talking to empty space. "Oh blast it!"

Harry pulled his broom off the table and clutched it to his chest. Concentrating for a moment he found himself winking into existence in the back garden of a warm house he recognized from his girlfriend's photo album. Hermione herself was just ahead of him, and already heading up the cobbled steps leading toward the back door. He recognized the determined set of her shoulders and the longish stride as something she did when heading into a fight, or to talk to Professor McGonagall. Harry knew that walk, and knew that this called for drastic action.

Harry bolted past her with all due haste and barred her way, hands outstretched. This was clearly important, whatever it was, and he decided to toss his Firebolt to grass at his side, so he's be free to deal with hugging or whatever else was needed. "Hermione! What do you mean, 'no kissing?' And why are you panicking?"

"I'm not panicking," she said, small red spots high on her cheeks, her hands aflutter. "I'm just calmly trying to figure out how to tell my dad that I'm dating a boy, that's all! There's obviously no reason to panic."

Harry stepped sideways to outmaneuver her bid to duck past him. "And the 'no kissing' bit?"

"Harry, be reasonable," Hermione snapped. "Do you really think my father- any father- would accept you kissing their daughter."

"I'd hope so," Harry said with a pragmatic shrug. "I mean, sooner or later, it's going to come up."

"I'd prefer later, Harry!" Hermione's leg jerked in what appeared to be an abortive stomping of her foot.

"You'd prefer?" Harry tipped his head sideways. "Hang on a minute. This is about what you're not comfortable with, isn't it? Not what your dad would allow."

Hermione spun around aimlessly. "Well, it's a little bit of both, isn't it? I can't imagine what he'd think of me if he saw me kissing a boy. For that matter, what do you do when your father walks in on you kissing someone? Do you come up for air, wish him a fine day at work, and then go right back to the kissing? Do you jump apart and pretend nothing was happening in the first place?"

"Wait a moment! No, actually 'stop a moment' would be better." Harry took her by the shoulders, and pulled her about to look at him square in the face. "We haven't even gotten to the part where you introduce me and I try not to look foolish shaking your father's hand, and already you're worrying about what to do if he catches us snogging in the closet."

This earned him a brief, friendly glare. "It's a house Harry, not a castle. Here the snogging is done on the living room divan."

Harry shot her a lopsided grin. "And I thought you said you'd never brought a boy home before."

"Charming," she answered dryly.

Harry pulled her in close for a chaste kiss before settling in to reassure his girlfriend that everything was alright. "Hermione, relax. This'll be fine. We'll just handle everything in a 'first come, first served' sort of manner. See, the first thing to come up is that you've got a boyfriend. This should be okay, after all you're seventeen. I have it on good authority that half your dorm started dating in third year."

"I hardly use Lavender and Parvati as examples of how to conduct my affairs, thank you very much." Hermione managed to throw in a dismissive sniff that Harry was certain was at least half jest. "And just what, exactly, constitutes 'good authority?'"

"One, I never said Lavender and Parvati." Harry ignored Hermione's snort of mirth. "Two, I room with Seamus and Dean. That's got to count for something."

Hermione's brows crinkled. "I'm still missing the point of this."

"The point is," Harry said slowly, "that somewhere in Britain, people have dated before. Other people, sure, but still. People may be dating right now. I'm guessing your dad is brilliant like you are, so I'm sure he won't be surprised to find out you're dating."

Hermione smiled at this, so Harry pressed on. "So that's the first thing, no problem. The second item is the question of whether or not I can stay here for a whole month. That's a huge imposition, and it's his decision. If I can stay here, that's wonderful. If not, I'll stay with Remus or something."

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head against Harry's shoulder. "And the kissing?"

Harry tipped her chin up and kissed her soundly, pulling her full length against him. At last, he set her back on her feet. "Lets try seeing how he takes the news were dating, then if I can stay with you two, and then if he even likes me before we worry about what'll happen if he catches us passionately embracing on the living room divan. Hmm?"

Her eyes widened, and Hermione gasped. Harry's smile turned into a puzzled frown as he watched his girlfriend pale rapidly. He thought hard for a moment before closing his eyes and wincing. "Your dad's right behind me, isn't he?"

He didn't have to open his eyes; Harry could feel her nod. He cleared his throat. "What do I do?"

Hermione squeaked. Under other circumstances, Harry would have found it hysterically funny to find out that his fierce and determined girlfriend squeaked, but he was too busy trying not to do the same. He cleated his throat yet again in the hope that his voice wouldn't break, and turned to face Hermione's father. "Doctor Granger, I, uh..."

"Call me Roger, Harry," came the cheerful response as Hermione's father strode down the garden path to shake his hand. "Especially since you'll be staying with us for a while. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just didn't know how to interrupt you two."

Harry nodded weakly, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to match Roger Granger's authoritative handshake. Roger clapped a firm hand on Harry's shoulder as he kissed Hermione's forehead. He looked back and forth between the two embarrassed teens with a toothy smile. "Well, let's have some breakfast, and you can tell me everything."

"Everything?" Harry felt a primal urge to run, screaming at him from somewhere deep in the most lizard-like portions of his mind.

"Sounds great, dad," Hermione responded hollowly.

"Hermione," Roger said to his daughter as he led the two teens into the kitchen through the garden entrance. "When I heard you two talking out in the yard, I took the liberty of ringing the Provincal bakery for some pastry and omelette take-away. Since you can do that popping thing, could you be a dear and pick it up for us?"

Hermione turned quickly to look at Harry, as though dreading leaving him alone for even a minute. But she nodded anyway and pulled a couple of pounds from the runabout jar by the door. She and Harry exchanged awkward hand gestures from waist level as they tried to work out how to say goodbye without touching in any way. Eventually they settled on a couple of small waves and sickly smiles before she Disapparated with only a faint pop.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the Granger family kitchen. Harry looked around to delay the inevitable, taking in the clean white cabinetry and modern appliances. With family photos on the refrigerator door and flowers on the sills, it wasn't the antiseptic unpleasantness of the Dursely's home, but it wasn't the welcoming clutter of the Burrow, either.

"Um, Doctor Granger-" Harry began, but was cut off by a smile from the older man.

"It's Roger, Harry, please." Hermione's father pulled out a spindle chair and took a seat at the kitchen table, and Harry did the same. Once they were both seated, Roger spoke up again. "I have a confession to make. I didn't order anything from the bakery. If I know my daughter, and I like to think that I do, she'll think they made an error, and she'll spend a good long time ordering breakfast from scratch."

Harry looked worried. "Um, why would you do that, sir?"

"A couple of reasons. Mostly, I just wanted us to have plenty of time for us to talk, son." Roger Granger's smile was friendly, but somehow seemed to Harry to be about as intimidating a facial expression as any he had ever seen. "I have a feeling this might be my only chance to get you alone, and I didn't want to miss it just because Hermione would think of a way out of it."

"Oh," was all Harry could think to say to this. Roger Granger's smile faded, and Harry swallowed nervously.

"First off, I'd like to hear from you what all this is about. You want to stay here for the rest of summer?" Dr. Granger's expression was in no way angry, but it also wasn't the most welcoming look Harry had ever seen.

Harry took a deep, calming breath before he began. This wasn't about him dating Hermione, Harry reminded himself. This was about a safe place to stay for a month. "Death Eaters attacked my Aunt and Uncle's house, sir. We don't know where my relatives are, and I can't stay there anymore. I'd like to stay here, if I can. We've got some spells we can use to try to make your house safer, but I understand if you wouldn't want me around."

Roger Granger looked thoughtful, in the same way Ron did in the latter half of their chess matches. "Now why do you think I should be more worried about Death Eaters if you were here than if it were just Hermione and myself? You'd think that two of you would be a better defense than only one magical person, wouldn't you? Or am I missing something?"

"You're not missing anything, sir." Dr. Granger's last question gave Harry an out, but it was one he knew with a sinking sensation he couldn't take. Here was somebody who had every right to know exactly why Harry was such a target. "There's a prophecy, erm... a magical one."

"Is there another kind?" Roger Granger smiled gently.

"I suppose not." Despite not really wanting to, Harry found himself with a half smile on his face at that. It fell away as he presses onwards, though. "This prophecy... it says I have to be the one to stop Voldemort, or rather one of us will lose to the other one. The Death Eaters are his... followers, I guess."

Roger evaluated him with dark and thoughtful eyes, and Harry knew where his girlfriend had learned that penetrating expression. "Do you think you'd be putting my daughter in danger being here?"

Harry felt his heart racing, as though the idea scared him almost as much as the reality. "I don't think so, sir, but I can't be sure."

Dr. Granger nodded slowly. "After Helen... my wife, Helen passed-"

Roger paused and looked out the window, his eyes bright. Harry took an interest in the little digital clock on the far wall, pretending not to notice as the older man blinked rapidly. A moment of silence fell before Roger continued. "Those murdering bastards, those Death Eaters... They took my wife from me, I don't want to loose my daughter. But they've taken a lot of people you love too, from what Hermione's told me. And I damn well won't leave anyone homeless because of them, either. So you just promise you'll try to look after each other, and you can stay in the guest room as long as you need."

Harry blinked. "I promise, sir, I-"

"Roger, Harry." Dr. Granger leaned in. "My name is Roger. And if there's a prophecy that says you're the one to stop these madmen, you do that. You do that for Helen."

Now it was Harry's turn to look away sharply and blink back a rush of feelings. "For a lot of people, I think."

The two sat in silence for a time, letting the air in the bright kitchen slowly thin. Eventually, Dr. Granger decided it was time for the other half of their chat, now that the somber mood had passed.

"Now, I know you've been my daughter's best friend for years, and two months ago I hear she's seeing you socially. I understand there are good reasons for it, but nonetheless I walked in on you two discussing your moving in together?" Roger Granger folded his hands upon the table, a shadow of a smile just forming. "Harry, I think I'd like to know what your intentions are concerning my daughter."

Harry slumped a little in his seat, and muttered to himself. "And to think, I was just telling people I was still alive..."

* * *

Some hours later, midmorning found Harry and Hermione circling the Grangers' Oxford flat, surreptitiously casting the series of smaller charms that would be knit together into a protective ward. The breakfast Hermione had brought back was long since eaten, and Dr. Granger had headed into his practice shortly thereafter, leaving the two teens alone. And although he was managing to focus fairly well on the series of new spells they'd found in the book Remus had given them, Harry couldn't help but notice that Hermione seemed to be peering worriedly his way every few seconds. After the first lap of the house, when she still hadn't ceased her quietly worried looks, Harry sighed indulgently.

"You can just ask, you know," he said. "I'll tell you."

Hermione sidled up to him and grabbed him by the wrist. "How was it?"

Harry looked out over the garden for a second before fixing his bright green gaze on his girlfriend. "Oddly, not as bad as I was afraid of."

"What do you mean, 'not as bad as you were afraid of?'" Hermione's cocked eyebrow held a lecture in and of itself. "Harry, you were the one calming me down, what on earth could you have been afraid of?"

Harry shrugged, suddenly keen to avoid the darker aspects of his conversation with Dr. Granger. "Well, he asked me about my intentions toward you-"

"Your intentions?" She managed to cram all three syllables with a great deal of emotion.

Harry pressed on dutifully. "I told him they were strictly honourable, and told him why I needed a place to stay. I told him how I felt about you, he decided he liked me, and he told me if I ever hurt you, I should train up on my long distance Apparition first"

Hermione was red with indignation, her lips working and reworking themselves into a tighter and tighter line. "Your intentions! I can't believe he'd ask you that! We've only just barely started dating, and he's acting like we're racing off to move in together!"

"Well," Harry muttered philosophically, "technically we are moving in together..."

Hermione fumed, not seeming to hear him at all. "And that's what comes out of his mouth the first time I bring a boy home! Oh yes, charming. And I thought the Wizarding world was stuck in another century!"

"Excuse me?" Harry cut into her rant at this. "First?"

Hermione shook her head and focused on her boyfriend momentarily. "I'm sorry. What was that?"

"You said 'first' boy you brought home. Implying a second, third, whatever." Harry's face clouded over in a way Hermione was fairly familiar with. "Suppose I shouldn't be silly. We've only just barely started dating, after all."

Hermione focused her intense dark-eyed stare upon him for long moments of silence while Harry pretended to be deeply interested in a battered Opel lorry pulling away from the curb several blocks away. After quite some time, she spoke up. "I'm torn between hugging you and smacking you, Harry James Potter."

This brought him back to her in surprise. "Huh?"

She ticked the options off on her fingers. "Either you think so little of yourself you don't realize how much I care about you, or you think I'm the sort to run around kissing boys when I don't... care about them very much."

"You said," he started tentatively.

"I know perfectly well what I said. You chose to take it as badly as possible." She poked him in the chest. "I'm mad at my father, not unhappy with you. I'm not in the market for a second or a third whatever. Get that through your thick head."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Then can I get the hug instead of the smack?"

Hermione hugged him quickly before pulling back and turning to face the house. "All right. Let's get back to the warding, then."

Harry pulled his wand again, but hesitated. "Could we get back to the first date thing, too? The other night, you mentioned a theatre in Oxford around here."

She frowned at this. "Harry, we're warding the house so you can be hidden until school starts up again. I don't think we can exactly go prancing around on a date and stay concealed."

"First, I seldom prance," Harry said seriously. "And second, I'm sure we can manage a date or two."

"We can, Harry," she answered primly. "When we get back to Hogwarts."

Harry sighed, and returned to warding the Granger residence. "Okay for now. But this conversation isn't over."

* * *

Days had passed, and Harry still hadn't managed to get back to the topic of their first actual date. The first few days were a flurry of magic, as Harry and Hermione wove ward after ward from Professor Lupin's textbook. Three days in, and nearly exhausted, the two teens were interrupted by Bill Weasley, who pronounced their work both solid and disturbingly comprehensive. Hermione had a grim look of satisfaction on her face, as it had been her insistence that every possible charm and hex be worked to secure the house. She'd stayed up late into the night researching some fairly obscure security wards, and Harry had worked long hours imbuing them. By the time Bill performed the Fidelius Charm, locking their location away from very nearly everyone else, two two teens looked near the brink of collapse. Hermione nearly dropped the sandwiches and chips she was trying to offer their guest, and Harry kept slipping chin first into his lunch plate whenever the conversation lagged.

After a baker's dozen tremendous yawns from his daughter and her boyfriend, Roger Granger bundled the two off to their respective rooms for a mid afternoon nap. It was a mark of just how tired they both were that neither put up more than token resistance. Dr. Granger and Bill Weasley then slipped quietly from the house, and headed into town. Neither had missed the fact that despite the frequent washings Harry had tried to sneak past everyone, his clothes were getting both pungent and threadbare. The recent Death Eater attack had left him without possessions or clothes other than the ones he had on his back, and Hermione refused to let Harry leave the grounds to replace them, citing quite reasonable concerns for his safety. With Bill helping to steer Roger's questionable fashion choices away from striped polos or vintage shirts, the two managed to very kindly deposit a smallish wardrobe outside Harry's door before he awoke.

Some days later, Harry and Hermione were sprawled on opposite ends of the divan, catching up on their homework over summer hols with their stocking feet twined together in the middle of the the plush Chesterfield when Dr. Granger returned home. Harry very nearly jumped away from his girlfriend at the first sight of her father, and from the twitch of her feet against his, he figured Hermione had stifled the very same reflex. Harry managed a welcoming smile, and tried not to think too hard about how very glad he was that they weren't kissing when her father had come home. Dr. Granger walked over to kiss his daughter on the cheek before wandering away to take off his coat and put down his briefcase. As he left, she caught Harry's eye, and the two teens fidgeted awkwardly as they tried to decide if they ought to move. In the end they decided not to, and instead settled uncomfortably back into place.

Dr. Granger returned to the living room, and settled into a wing chair with the oddly salmon-coloured financial sheets in one hand and a glass of water in the other. As he ruffled the pages and folded them over to find the bits he wanted to read, Harry looked up and noticed he bunched his eyebrows together just like his daughter did when she was reading. Harry shook his head, and bent back to his homework.

The Transfiguration homework was dreadfully dull, so much so that Harry found himself staring off into space for the fourth time in an hour. An idea struck him, and he wiggled his feet against Hermione's calves, just as he'd been doing all morning. Usually she wriggled her feet back in return, sometime looking up from her text, other times merely smiling softly while continuing to scratch away. This time however, she looked up with wide eyes and jerked her head repressively at her father. Apparently, 'Dad In Room' trumped 'Playing With Harry's Feet.'

Mischievously, Harry waited long enough for her to return to her book before again playing with her stocking feet. Hermione didn't look up, or change expression in the slightest. She simply used her biggest toe to poke him solidly in the sole of the foot.

Harry jerked his leg away reflexively, and a loose parchment sheaf spilled across the floor. Hermione stifled a giggle as Harry fumbled to keep his books from following. Harry looked up guiltily to see Dr. Granger regarding him over the rim of his water glass with piercing brown eyes.

Dr. Granger shifted in his chair. "You two have been awfully studious, these last few days."

"I've been Hermione's friend for years," Harry said with a disarming smile. "I'd bet she's been 'awfully studious' for a lot longer than a couple of days."

Hermione kicked his foot again, playfully. Harry returned the favor, and a brief bout of foot wrestling ensued. After a minute, they subsided. Harry smiled, noticing that Hermione seemed to have gotten over her nervousness in front of her father in the midst of their sudden playfulness.

Dr. Granger spoke up again, seeming to pick his words carefully. "I was simply wondering why the two of you didn't want to spend some time nosing about the village. I thought Hermione had some outings to a theatre planned."

"Ah," Harry said in comprehension. "I can't, really."

"What he means to say," Hermione interjected with an eye roll at her boyfriend, "is that the spell that keeps us safe here only works if we don't leave the property."

Dr. Granger wrinkled his nose, and for a moment Harry could see the familial resemblance with his daughter quite strongly. "Is this the same spell that keeps the mail from being delivered and repels all the curry delivery boys?"

"The same." Hermione said with an edge to her voice. "And you shouldn't be eating so much delivery in the first place. It's dreadfully bad for you."

"Well, not much point cooking for just one." In the ensuing silence, the rustle of Dr. Granger's paper as he shook it out sounded like thunder. For as long as Harry had stayed with the Granger's the topic of Mrs. Granger's murder last year had been beyond taboo. The comment about being alone was as close to a direct reference to his loss as Hermione's father had made the whole time, and Harry had no idea how to respond. From her fidgeting silence, neither did Hermione. Dr. Granger cleared his throat and tried to restart the flagging conversation. "Of course , with you two here, that's hardly a problem., is it?"

"Not really," Harry said with a smile. "I usually have to wait 'til I get back to Hogwarts before I eat this well."

"Getting off of my ongoing take-away habit, and back on track," Dr. Granger continued, "I was mostly worried the two of you would be bored trapped inside for a whole month. There's not really much here to keep you two busy; I haven't even found a reason to pay for a license for the Beeb."

"But we're headed into our NEWT year," cried Hermione, and she was off. One of the three study planners she'd been working on was produced as if by magic, and Hermione was busily pointing out the very few blocks of time not already colour-coded for class or revision. "We've six years of classes to review, and these tests are dreadfully important. We haven't even gotten to Hogwarts, and I'm already behind schedule. If we work at it, I should be caught up by the end of August."

In the midst of Hermione's oddly cute study attack, Harry found himself looking over from his girlfriend to her father. Dr. Granger seemed to be eying him thoughtfully. Harry blinked, suddenly realizing that as his girlfriend's father, he might have a reason or two to be concerned if Harry and Hermione had too much free time on their hands.

"You know, Hermione," Harry began reasonably. "The point of a vacation is so you can relax between stressing out in classes. Maybe you might want to schedule some time for going into town or something."

"And again I'd like to point out all the spells keeping us safe," she answered with some asperity. "And the way they don't seem to work in town or wherever."

Harry shrugged. "It's just me who's under house arrest. You could still-"

"Finish that sentence, and your feet will be cold for the rest of the day." She smiled to take any sting out of her words. "Honestly, I'm not about to go wandering off to the beach or what have you. I'd rather be inside studying with you for a month than be about town without you for a day."

Harry's brows knit. "I'm not sure if you'd be missing me or the studying more though."

Hermione repressed a smile. "I'll have to think about that a bit."

"And you're sure you don't feel stuck here?" Harry still looked a little worried as he asked.

"Positive," was her simple reply.

"Alright then." Harry gathered up the books and parchments and set them untidily on the low table. "But we're a couple of weeks overdue for that date of ours."

"Harry," she began warningly. Dr. Granger looked confusedly between the two teens.

Harry didn't notice her father's expression and didn't let Hermione build up a head of steam. "I just don't want to make you wait another month for our first date, though."

"Harry," she tried again. "It's not exactly an important issue if you stop to think about it."

"It is to me," he answered intensely. "We haven't even had one date together, not once. I know I'm not very good at being a boyfriend, but I can at least take you on a good first date."

"You are too a very good boyfriend, and anyone who says otherwise will be hexed repeatedly in ways not easily reversed," Hermione responded tartly. Then her expression softened. "But I do appreciate the sentiment. And I do want to go on a real date. But we can wait until we get back to Hogwarts."

"Ah, yes, because nothing ever happens there to muck up our schedules."

"Valid point," Hermione muttered softly. She cleared her throat as though abashed to be caught talking to herself, and continued in a more forceful tone. "But I don't exactly see a way around it. Not without taking a dreadful risk."

Harry smiled broadly. "I figured a way out."

Hermione's eyebrow arched of its own volition. "If it involves your invisibility cloak, flying in any manner, or a Time Turner, I'm putting my foot down."

"Oh, a Time Turner! I hadn't thought of that one." Harry stared at the carpet, lost in thought until Hermione cleared her throat at him. "Sorry, just realized a Time Turner would be nice. Anyways, I was thinking about one September."

"September first?" Hermione looked skeptical. "That's when we're headed back to Hogwarts."

"Yes, and the Order and the Aurors, and probably the Unspeakables and anyone else who can will be making sure Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters is completely safe. So we go a little early, and have our date then."

Hermione smiled at this, but Dr. Granger stepped in with a cough. "It's not very... atmospheric though, is it? A train yard first thing in the morning, I mean?"

Harry's face fell, but Hermione squeezed his hand. "Well first of all, we can do magic, so the atmosphere will be perfect. And second of all, it'll be my very first date with Harry, so I don't think we'll need much else."

Dr. Granger shook his head. "One of you is going to have to explain how exactly it is you've come to be dating for months without actually having been on a date before. This seems... peculiar. And what did you mean by an invisibility cloak?"

Harry sighed. This had all the makings of a long conversation.

* * *

"I don't get it."

Hermione didn't look up from her perch on the kitchen table, where she was meticulously copying from several texts and her own earlier notes onto a terrifyingly long scroll. Instead she charmed another slip of parchment to join up to the already lengthy scroll, giving her additional room to write. Only once this was done, and she'd blown across the fresh ink to dry it did she look up and sigh. "What exactly is it you don't get?"

Harry rumpled his already disgruntled hair, and slouched over the counter he was reading at. "Pretty much anything I've read for the last hour. I think my brain melted somewhere between Spatial Scrolls and Temporal Texts."

"Now it's my turn to not 'get it,'" Hermione said impatiently. She set her quill down at looked across the kitchen at him. "You study all year long at Hogwarts, and even if you don't like it, you manage. How is it your brain melts after only a week and a half of studying now?"

"Easy." Harry looked up from where he was slumped. "At Hogwarts I don't have perfect weather and the chance to spend time alone with my terribly cute girlfriend."

Hermione smiled warmly. "Wait 'til spring. You'll get to have pleasant weather and me, while you're at Hogwarts."

"Ah," Harry sighed. "I knew something was going to bollix my chances at the NEWTS."

That lit a spark in Hermione's eyes. "Don't you dare botch your exams! After studying with you for seven years, I full well expect your help setting the Ministry right once we've matriculated."

Harry pushed himself upright and off the kitchen counter. "I promise I'll try to focus, then. But does this mean you're already planning your first coup?"

"More like radical reform." Hermione closed her texts and began rolling up her notes. "Banning discrimination because of blood or species is one long overdue reform. Ending House Elf slavery is another."

"I don't think the Ministry'll think much of those ideas, Hermione." Harry shrugged apologetically.

"I know," Hermione answered primly. She rolled up her parchments, and tied them with a length of simple twine. "I'd imagine we'd first have to push through hiring and tenure reforms for Ministry personnel."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Harry responded warily, "but what do you mean by 'hiring and tenure reforms?'"

A quick swish and flick, and Hermione's Arithmancy notes sailed off to a shelf in the sitting room. Another wave brought fresh books and parchments for Ancient Runes to a gentle stop in front of her. "Imagine how many problems we've encountered at Hogwarts alone that could have been prevented if the Ministry had anything like a modern civil service test! Standardized entrance exams should prevent the grossly incompetent from getting their positions on pure nepotism. Rules barring blood discrimination, which should be the norm and not the exception in any event, would bring a more representative body of employees into the Ministry. With the addition of magic to the mix, there's no reason any high ranking official should be free of binding oaths barring them from working against the common weal. And for that matter, why is it we have no statement of rights the Ministry isn't allowed to infringe upon without legal proceedings?"

"Hermione," Harry said as he sat back slowly, no expression on his face. "Are you sure that's not a coup?"

She blew an errant curl of hair out of her face, and opened one of her texts with a loud and final thump. "Call it what you will, but I'm dragging the Ministry kicking and screaming into the thirteenth century."

Harry looked from side to side, a mixture of concern and amusement on his face. "Not that I don't like the idea of fixing everything, but I think between Voldemort and graduating I've got enough to worry about already."

"Fair enough," Hermione answered with a confident matter-of-fact tone Harry envied. "Just remember that I've got some plans for what we do after Tom Riddle is dead."

"I hope some of the plans are more fun than politics," Harry muttered as he slouched in his chair.

"Some of them," she answered with a mischievous grin.

Harry sat upright, but before he could pursue that grin, the doorbell rang. He deflated slightly. "I'll see who it is, and then we can get back to the more fun plans of yours."

Hermione wordlessly returned to her studies, but he noticed a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she did so.

Harry jogged lightly into the living room, slowing up as he saw a brilliant red jacket through the half-light front door. He blinked in surprise before continuing on to throw open the Granger's front door. The red-headed woman on the front step turned back from where she'd been looking up the street, and greeted Harry with a warm smile

Harry matched her smile. "Ms. Aedernmas! I'm surprised to see you again."

Morgan Aedernmas pulled Harry into an awkward hug as she pivoted on a broken leg. Her faintly Dubliner lilt was clearly amused as she answered. "Well, Harry, I know you're an adult now, and you certainly don't need a social worker anymore. I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you're doing alright."

"I'm alright ma'am. Um, can I get you a chair?"

"No, no, too much sitting as is. Best if I can be on my, well, foot for a bit." Ms. Aedernmas hopped around in a small circle to lean against the front door jamb. "And if you don't mind my saying it, you don't look alright, exactly."

Harry looked away, his green eyes sharp as he debated answering honestly or evading the question. He made up his mind quickly. "I really am alright, but I'm worried. Hermione is too, but we don't talk about it, not really. The Order isn't telling us anything about the attacks on the Wizarding world. We don't even know if our friends are okay, if their families are okay. I haven't heard from anybody, and I can't contact them. I'm worried about everybody from Hogwarts. I'm even worried about the Dursleys, to be honest. And I didn't think I'd ever worry about them."

"I heard from Dumbledore that your guardians disappeared in the middle of the night." Morgan's grey eyes were piercing as they regarded Harry levelly. "Given how they treated you, I'd think that you couldn't care less about them."

Harry shifted uneasily. "I don't really like the thought they'd just leave in the middle of the night the first chance they had to be rid of me. But if they didn't... I'm worried something happened to them,"

"Well, they truly don't rate my concern Harry," Morgan said as she leaned against the front door jamb. "But I'll keep an eye open for them. I'm sure they'll turn up, like a family full of bad pennies. As for the rest of it...are you sure you want to be worrying about all of that?"

Harry huffed and leaned against the doorjamb. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to be worried about much of anything, actually. I don't have a choice."

Ms. Aedernmas pinched Harry's arm. "Quit that. You may be an adult, but you still aren't old enough to brood without it coming across as petulance. And you certainly do have a choice."

When it became clear that nothing more was forthcoming, Harry gestured for her to continue.

Morgan sighed. "Look, you've got a moment of peace on earth here, what with the warder-things that got slapped on this cottage, yes? So if you want to ignore the outside world, you can. And if you want to worry, that's your choice too."

Harry winced. "I think that poking my nose into everything and worrying about my friends is second nature to me. Maybe even first nature."

"Doesn't mean you don't have a choice, though," she responded with a laugh. Sobering up Morgan fixed Harry with her grey eyes. "Look at your so-called 'Lord' Voldemort. Isn't his whole life kind of defined by fighting against who he really is?"

Harry looked away, down the row of town homes, and nodded.

Morgan joined Harry in staring off and down the street, rather than looking directly at one another. "Harry, it does you credit that you're concerned for your friends. It does you credit that you want to help. But you need to wait just a month more. Make the most of your time. Get ready to fight off this Voldemort, sure. But remember to live a little, too. It's normal to spend some time on the here and now."

"Just my luck; I've never been normal." Harry smiled wryly. "I just can't pretend people aren't in danger. I hate being holed up here, and not being able to do anything about what's going on out there."

"Even if it would put you in danger?" Morgan cocked her head, fixing Harry with a hard sidelong stare. "Even if this might be the last peaceful moment you've got before you land head first in this magician's war of yours, you'd rather be out there?"

Harry listened to a crow off in the distance as he considered his answer. "I don't want to. I mean, I know doing what's right is terrifying, and it can get me hurt or killed. And I'd really rather spend my time with Hermione, even if all we do is study for exams. But someone needs to do something. If not me, who?"

"If not now, when?" Morgan gave a little laugh when Harry nodded earnestly at that. "Well then, I wish you all the best in this hidden little war you magicians have made for yourselves."

Harry regarded his former social worker levelly. "Thanks. I'll need it."

Morgan patted his shoulder. "Now, is there any chance I can get you to help me back to my car?"

Harry jumped forward to help Ms. Aedernmas down the few garden steps into the Grangers' front lawn. She kept a hand on his shoulder as she hopped one-legged down the steps, her cast held akimbo.

The two of them slowly wound their way to the driver's side door of her grey Phantom, with an awkward three-legged hop over the crumbling and mossy curb. Ms. Aedernmas looked sideways at the young wizard as they reached the driver's side of her coach. "So Harry, I meant to say something earlier. You seem to have fallen into some interesting living arrangements here. Moving in together's awfully fast."

Harry flushed, and looked down. "It's not like that!"

"Oh?" Morgan pursued him slowly and teasingly. "So you aren't living with your girl, then?"

"No! Er, yes." Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, trying to ignore just how hot his face felt. "I mean, yes we're dating, and yes I'm living here for the last of the summer, but no we're not living together living together."

Ms. Aedernmas bumped Harry with a friendly elbow. "I'm just teasing you, Harry. I spoke to Dumbledore, and he told me all about your housing problems now that his vaunted protections on your home were gone."

"Oh, that's really funny. I just about had a heart attack," Harry said with equal parts humor and heat. "I'd best get back to Hermione. It's not exactly fair to leave her in there studying without me."

Morgan's red eyebrows ran together at this. "That's the second time you've mentioned schoolwork. I've got to say, that seems odd."

"Why," Harry responded. "I'm pretty sure it's my girlfriend's favorite pastime."

"It's odd because I've met Hermione Granger, and she strikes me as much brighter than that." When Harry's eyes went wide, Morgan continued quickly. "She's got to be as worried as you are, more so since she's worried about you facing Voldemort. I can't see someone as bright as her dedicated to homework when she's got so much else she could be doing."

Harry chuckled. "Ms. Aedernmas, I think you're underestimating how much Hermione loves books and learning."

"Think of this as some last advice from a genuine professional. Think of it as feminine intuition. Thank of it as whatever you like." Morgan gave Harry an unnerving, piercing stare. Even her voice seemed more focused, the Dubliner lilt more pronounced. "Ask your girl what she's got planned for the rest of summer. After the texts and revisions, yeah? I bet it's worth talking about."

Morgan popped the door, then spun in place with the jamb and roof line to grip for balance. She leaned on the door with an elbow while fumbling in her jacket for a biro and her business cards. When she spun back to face him her earlier focus was gone, wiped away by a warm smile. She jotted some digits briefly on the back of one of her cards before handing it over to Harry.

"You're an adult now," Morgan said with a slightly sad smile. "In part, that means there's very little for me to do as a social worker. That doesn't mean I don't want to be hearing about how things are getting on with your girl in there. I also want to hear about how you punched this evil wizard's ticket. So here's my home number. Call for any reason, yeah?"

"I'll do it," Harry said with a nod. "And thanks for, you know..."

"I do indeed, Harry James Potter. I do indeed." With that Morgan hopped sprightly into her Phantom and fired the engine to a low rumble. "I'm sure we'll talk again afore too long!"

Harry closed the door for her, and waved as the great, low motorcar crunched away down the tranquil Oxford road. He watched as a few crows scattered before the vehicle, and then she was gone. He tucked his hands into his trou and turned back to the house.

Harry slipped inside, threw the old brass latch, and padded back to the kitchen in the rear of the cottage. Hermione didn't appear to have moved from her perch at the table, though a number of heavy books and sheaves of parchment had shifted position around the room. She looked up with a small smile. "Who was it?"

"My social worker," Harry said with an answering smile. He dropped lightly into his vacated seat, trying to recall which book he had been reading when they were interrupted. "She wanted to make sure I was okay."

Hermione's brows knit, her work forgotten. "You didn't tell her about..."

"My incredibly disturbing birthday present from Voldemort?" Harry shook his head. "Not something I'd bring up."

"Good." Hermione shivered despite the warmth of the day. "She may not be a part of the Wizarding world, but I still don't want to think about what she'd do if you told her."

Harry set aside the book he had been reading and thought for a second. "Hermione, are you planning on studying until we go back to Hogwarts."

She sighed, and pushed her own work to one side. "I was wondering when you'd ask. No, not really. That's why I've been pushing so hard; so we'd get done as early as possible."

Harry nodded. "Why?"

She took a deep breath. "When we- Ron, Luna, and everyone- got to Malfoy Manor, the house was a wreck. Almost half the Death Eaters were down, and you were holding your own against the worst of the lot. It didn't look like when the DA was fighting, Harry. It looked like the Aurors, or maybe even Dumbledore was fighting in there."

"I've seen Dumbledore," Harry said quietly. "It wasn't anything like what he could do."

Hermione shook her head, clearing away a dozen tangents she needn't pursue just then. "My point is that it's going to happen again."

"Voldemort," she said, emphasizing the word. "is going to strike, and you're going to fight him. I'm going to be there to help, and a lot of other people too. I want you to show me what you did last year. Apparently this prophesy mean I can't stop Riddle myself, but that doesn't mean I can't keep his Death Eaters from helping him. And don't you dare tell me you want to keep me safe or some rubbish- "

"I wouldn't dream of it." Harry ruffled his hair, and sighed. "And I should have known this all comes down to you wanting more to study."

"You prat!" Hermione laughed, the tension broken. "I'm serious!"

"Me too! When it comes to studying, you're kind of unbelievable." At Hermione's outraged expression, Harry laughed and hurried on. "You're also kind of brilliant."

"You remember that!" Hermione pulled her book back to her.

Harry sighed, and opened his book, flipping through to the last section he remembered. "Just so you know, we're going to get a date in there before we get to all the Defense."

Hermione turned a page primly. "It's a date then, Mister Potter."

* * *

A week later, Harry was sliding a casserole pan full of bread pudding onto the Grangers' dining room table next to a tureen of some pale soup. From the open doorway into the sitting room he could hear an impatient tapping. Harry went and fetched two glasses of water, setting them on the table as well. "Okay Hermione, you can come in now."

"Honestly Harry, I don't know why I couldn't- oh my!" Hermione pulled up short just inside the doorway. There were lit candles in low cut crystal holders, and place settings for two on the small table. She looked up to where Harry was pulling out one of the Queen Anne chairs out for her. "I see. It's a date."

"Do you like it?" Harry tipped his head to one side, grinning uncertainly.

Hermione broke into a radiant smile. "It looks wonderful."

Harry's posture slouched a millimeter, in what Hermione had noticed over the years was a sign of relief. He quickly and efficiently dished up two plates and slipped into the chair opposite her.

"I made that French stew you liked, from the Triwizard Tournament, broccoli, and Thursday Night's Bread Pudding for dessert." The Hogwarts' House Elves made a different pudding nightly, and Hermione had long since resigned herself to the fact that Thursday Night's Bread Pudding was her fatal weakness. She'd always assumed they poured some mix of addictive potions into the bowls when they made Thursday Night's.

Hermione made herself start on the soup before sampling the bread pudding. "The bouillabaisse is excellent! And you remembered what foods I like!"

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a boyfriend if I didn't know what you liked to eat."

Her eyebrow arched at this. "Harry, you remembered a soup I liked from three years ago. I'm fairly certain we weren't dating then."

Harry toyed with his broccoli. "It was just unusual enough I remembered, that's all."

Hermione blinked. "Well, I''m impressed with this wonderful out-of-Hogwarts feast. I'd no idea you knew how to cook, Harry."

"Petunia Dursley might have been one of the least pleasant people I've ever met, but she made sure I learned how to cook and clean."

Hermione looked down at her plate without expression. "I know you're worried about them, and I know I should be, but I'm simply not able to bring myself to care about them."

Harry took a breath. "For today, I'm not worrying about anything." Hermione looked up at this to see her boyfriend smiling. "No horrible missing family, no Dark wizards, nothing. We've got hours 'til your dad is home, and I'm having our first date now."

She smiled tentatively. "It sounds like you've given this a great deal of thought."

Harry shrugged. "We finished our studying, and tomorrow we start in on everything I can remember from the fight in Malfoy Manor. So today's our day for a first date. Usually you come up with all the plans, and I'm the one who improvises. I thought that for our first date, I should plan."

Hermione pushed her soup away, and primly folded her hands atop the table. "Don't leave me in the lurch, Harry. Let's hear this plan."

"I found a comedy in your dad's collection of video tapes, so we can watch a movie after we eat." Harry ticked off the points of his plan on his fingers as he spoke. "I moved your radio into the sitting room, so we can listen to music, and there's plenty of room to dance if we want."

"That sounds like a plan I can support whole heartedly," Hermione answered with a smile.

"I hoped so."

Hermione toyed with her pudding. "So Harry, if you're doing the planning today, does that mean I'm in charge of improvising?"

Hermione's smile widened. as Harry's brow wrinkled in innocent confusion. "If you want to. Did I forget something?"

"More that you overlooked a couple of items," she replied as she leaned over the table. Harry realized she was going to kiss him, and grinned widely.

They were an inch apart when the front door creaked open, and Doctor Granger called out, "Harry! Hermione! I'm home!"

The two teens jumped apart fast enough to rattle the silverware. From the other room Mister Granger continued unabated. "And sweetie! You got a parcel from the Headmaster, it looks like you've made Head Girl!"

Hermione shot from the table with a high pitched noise. From the other room, Hermione called out, "Oh Harry come quick! I made Head Girl. There's an instruction booklet! Can you bring my green notebook? I think it's in the kitchen!"

Doctor Granger wandered into the dining room, sniffing. "Do I smell that fish soup Hermione picked up in France?"

Harry got up and headed for the kitchen. "Let me get you a plate, and I'll get Hermione's notebook."

Hermione shot back into the dining room, reading Hogwarts' Moste Anciente Head Rules et Regulations as she walked. "Oh dear, this is frightfully convoluted. It could take forever to decipher all the subsections."

Doctor Granger looked at the candles on the table, and all the good china in use. "Pumpkin, did I interrupt you two having a date?"

Hermione blushed and twitched, but persisted in her reading. "Yes, but it's fine. We'll get around to it later."

Her father plucked the rule book from her hands. "I didn't mean to break up your date with Harry just now. And please remember to leave some time for fun every chance you get."

Hermione sputtered, but he held up his hands to slow her down. "Date Harry, date whoever you want. Play in the snow, go for walks, whatever. I think I know how you feel about him, and I have a pretty good idea how he feels about you. You two enjoy spending time together, but you both need to learn to laugh together a lot more. Play footsie, even when I'm around."

Doctor Granger took a breath to organize his thoughts. "You mum... I miss her every day, pumpkin. Just... remember to enjoy yourself. And your friends."

Harry returned with a plate, a bowl, and a glass of water, and quickly laid out a third place setting at the table. Hermione's notebook landed next to her bowl "Congratulations, although I'm not surprised at all you're Head Girl. Is that the rule book?"

"Apparently, it's only one of them," she muttered without paying much attention. Suddenly focusing on Harry , she shook her head. "I can read through it tomorrow. What do you say we sit in the garden for the afternoon?"

"Hermione, are you feeling okay? Are you sure-"

She grabbed Harry's hand and started dragging him toward the back door. "Remember, today I'm in charge of improvisation. In a month it won't be warm enough to lie on the grass, so it would be a shame to waste it now."

The two teens disappeared through the door, the louvered blind covering the window rattling as they left. Doctor Granger smiled after them for a beat, glad that he still had things he could teach his brilliant daughter. Then he looked down at the lavish spread on the dinner table. "Of course, it would be a shame to waste all this lunch..."

* * *

One September overtook Harry and Hermione before they'd even realized it had happened. Usually Harry counted the days until his return to Hogwarts, but on the eve of his last year, he simply didn't have the burning desire to return to the world of magic. This was not to say that everything in Harry's life had gone his way. The Fidelius charm concealing the Granger household prevented either he or Hermione from hearing news from the Wizarding world, excepting those few occasions on which an Order member dropped in to check on them.

And this imposed isolation hadn't helped the two of them arrange their first date, either. Once Hermione set up a picnic in the garden as a break from their exhausting Defense work, only to be washed out by an unexpected summer shower. Another time Tonks and Remus arrived via Portkey in the sitting room while Hermione showed Harry how to waltz, which brought about a flurry of off-colour remarks from the purple-haired junior Auror for the rest of the night. Most recently and quite finally, Hermione's attempt to cook dinner set off the smoke alarms. An estate car from the fire brigade was dispatched, and circled the block futilely, unable to find the source of the alarm under the shield of the Fidelus. After Bill Weasley and Mad-Eye sorted the fire captain out with a couple of discrete memory charms, the two teens had written off managing a genuine date until school restarted.

Still and all, Harry wasn't eager to return to the real world of Dumbledore and Voldemort. Prophesies, war, and fate were all stalking him, and Harry didn't really want to set foot back on the path he'd been on for years. And in the interim, Hogwarts was full of well meaning friends who would want to spend time with him or his girlfriend, and he'd gotten all too used to spending whole days simply being near her.

No, the best way to describe Harry's mood was conflicted.

The knock at the front door startled Harry out of his reverie, and he went to let Bill Weasley into the Grangers'. Behind him, Hermione and her father were making their goodbyes. As Bill stepped through the doorway, Harry frowned. The Gringott's curse breaker was carrying a handful of necklaces made from butterbeer caps. Another looped around his neck, jingling just below his dragon-tooth necklace.

Harry shook his hand, and gestured toward the odd assortment of necklaces. "What's this? Did Luna give up her jewelry box?"

Bill's grin widened. "Actually, she did."

Harry blinked, and shook his head to try to clear it. "Alright, that's going to need explanation."

"Portkeys," Bill said, jingling the necklaces. "I'm your ride to Diagon Alley, so Luna very thoughtfully gave up something I could enchant and be sure wouldn't get lost."

Harry shook the knapsack that held all of his and Hermione's belongings shrunk down to doll-sized miniature. "Thanks for thinking of us, but I can Apparate, and use magic, remember. I'll jut side-along Hermione, and-"

"Go nowhere fast." Bill dropped the necklaces over Harry's head. "First, the whole Alley's been warded against Apparation. Secondly, so has Platform 9 3/4. Thirdly, to the best of my knowledge, you've never done a side-along. It's a lot more tricky, and not something you want to try out for the first time over a long distance. The phrase you're hunting for is 'Multi-Party-Splinching."

Harry flinched. "Okay, Portkeys."

"That's the spirit."

Harry used his off hand to pull one of the necklaces away to take a better look at the dangling caps. He thought for a bit, green eyes bright. "Say Bill, where exactly do these drop us?"

"There's two for each of you," Bill answered, pulling at the different caps as he spoke. "The two blue caps drop you in Diagon Alley, just off from Gringott's. That's a favor from the Goblins. The green ones go straight to the train platform, and bypass the Muggles. Bit of a good idea, not having you drop out of nowhere in the middle of a crowded Muggle transit station."

Bill stepped back. "So, now I'm off."

Harry looked up in surprise. "What? You're not coming along?"

"Yes and no." Bill shrugged. "I'll be going with Ron, Ginny and Luna. I think you and Hermione can look after yourselves, hmm? Without getting into too much mischief?"

Harry smiled widely, affecting a patently false expression of innocence. "Of course. I don't know why people think I go looking for trouble."

Bill just shook his head, and stepped back to clear the doorway before Disapparating.

Harry held out a hand. "Wait! Can you take Hedwig and Crookshanks? I don't want to try to take them along on a Portkey."

"Sure thing," Bill said as he bent to grab Crookshanks' cat carrier. "That's a certain recipe for a month of hairballs on your bed. But I think Hedwig might prefer to fly on her own, yes?"

Hedwig hooted, then clicked her sharp beak. Harry smiled at her. "Well, I see what you vote for. I'll catch up with you at Hogwarts. Just don't show off for the castle owls too much, alright?"

Hedwig hopped nimbly from her cage, and nipped Harry affectionately on the finger. Her huge white wings were nearly silent as she launched herself into the air, though the downdraft was enough to ruffle both men's hair. Harry quietly shrunk his familiar's cage and tucked it into his backpack.

Crookshanks meowed crankily as Bill adjusted his grip on the cat carrier. "I'll just drop this one off at the castle before I round up the Weasley clan. And I thought Ron was kidding when he said Hermione picked herself up a very small lion for a pet."

With that, Bill disappeared with a pop.

Harry turned back, and went to join Hermione and her father by the fireplace.

Hermione fingered Harry's new fashion statements. "Bill showed up to give you necklaces? Are these Portkeys, or should I worry about you fancying someone older."

"Well, technically you are older than me," Harry responded. Hermione tilted her head to glare at him, and Harry continued. "You're right though. They're Portkeys, whenever you're ready to go. Bill's taking Crookshanks straight to the castle, and Hedwig's flying."

Hermione nodded, and Dr. Granger held out his hand for Harry to shake. "It's been good getting to know the boy Hermione's been talking about for so many years."

Harry gave his girlfriend a disbelieving look as he shook her father's hand. Hermione huffed percussively, and tapped her foot. "Honestly! You make it sound like Harry was all I talked about."

"Honestly," Dr. Granger said with a smile. "You make it sound like he wasn't"

This drew the expected eye roll. Dr. Granger clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You take care of yourself. Both of you. I'm taking time off over winter hols, so when you stay here then we can catch up."

Harry smiled. "Sounds brilliant."

Hermione kissed her dad's cheek. "I'll owl, I promise!"

"Go on," Dr. Granger said with a small smile. "I hate long goodbyes."

Harry looped his arm around Hermione and triggered one of the Portkeys. There was a sharp and familiar tug, and Harry felt himself falling sharply toward the landing near Gringotts. Between them, Harry and Hermione managed to avoid tumbling to the ground.

Hermione straighted herself up, and pushed her hair back out of her face. "Didn't I see a Portkey for each of us?"

Harry stuffed the Portkeys into his backpack. "Yeah. But if we share, we have extras we can use later."

Hermione tugged Harry's shirt back into place. "You just wanted an excuse to put your arm around me."

Harry grinned. "You're not the only clever one. Now come on, if we hurry with our school supplies, we'll have time for a date at Florean Fortescue's."

"I think I might actually hurry through a bookseller's for once."

As they walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley, they quickly realized that hurrying wouldn't be difficult in the least. Almost every other store was closed, shuttered, and in some cases actually boarded up. One or two had menacing security trolls slouched in front, picking their irregular teeth and cradling knobby clubs. Gringott's itself had a full contingent of armed and armoured Goblins in ranks before the great golden doors, and nocked arrows followed them from the angled upper windows. Those few people on the Alley moved quickly about their errands, cloaks pulled tight around themselves. The last of the warm summer winds whipped loose newspapers across the nearly empty street.

Hermione dropped Harry's hand to retrieve a few of the littered pages. "'Attacks Slow, Continue,' 'Minister Refuses to Negotiate, Continues to Deny.' Wait, negotiate? And what exactly is Minister Percy Denying?"

"I think I've a good idea," Harry answered softly from a few feet away. Hermione ran over to where he stood, looking at a handbill crudely nailed to a shuttered shop front. With an animated Dark Mark coiling and uncoiling across the heading, there could be no doubt it was placed there by the Death Eaters themselves.

"'Harry Potter is dead!'" Hermione read the page aloud. "'Dumbledore Hides in a School! The Ministry Does Nothing! Surrender to Your New Lord Voldemort, and Peace Will Come to Britain.' Oh, that's rich."

"I guess his wizards brought back the news they got me." Harry shook his head. "Things can't be going well for Riddle, if he thinks that beating teenager is something to crow about. What's next, adverts saying he can steal candy from babies?"

Hermione reached out toward Harry's name printed on the handbill before snatching her hand back as though burned. Her voice shook as she spoke. "Harry, this is serious. Obviously the Ministry isn't doing much good, and Dumbledore has all but retired. He's old, Harry, older than the Lewis Carroll or Wagner. Everything on there is believable. People will think you're dead, Harry! And if they believe that, some of them will believe that maybe they should surrender."

Harry shook himself. "That's ridiculous! Why? What do they think is so important about me?"

"You may not like it, but you're still a symbol." Hermione grabbed his arm. "'Little Harry Potter stopped the last war.' You've heard people say that for years. If people think that you've died, that even you couldn't stand up to Voldemort..."

"For one thing, that's rubbish," Harry snapped. "For another,if it's so bloody important everyone knows I'm alive, why not just tell everyone?"

Hermione snapped one of the tattered sheets of newsprint up between them, forcing Harry to focus on it. "They have, Harry. Minister Percy's been telling everyone you're fine. But no one's seen you in public! Harry, everything he's saying is making it worse. Even the Prophet doesn't believe a word the Ministry's telling them. "

"Ah." When Hermione pulled the newspaper away, she could see how confused and frustrated Harry looked. "So what does this mean?"

"It means," Hermione started before hesitating. "It means you have to go show the flag."

Harry didn't look any less confused. "What?"

"Let people see you're alive and well, give them some hope." Hermione grimaced. "I know you hate it, but a speech wouldn't be amiss."

"Oh no, Hermione." Harry shook his hear hard. He pulled the newspaper out of her hand and pointed to a smaller article. "It says here that nothings working at finding Voldemort. Scryers, Telepaths, and Divination; everything's a non-starter. What do you say we pick up some books on finding people magically, and... and we can read through them when we get to Hogwarts?"

"Harry!" Hermione's nostrils flared and she tipped her head to one side. "You're trying to distract me."

"Is is working," he said hopefully.

A raised voice from Olivander's doorway interrupted their tete-a-tete "Look! It's Harry Potter!"

"No," Hermione said, turning Harry by the shoulders to face the handful of people running towards them excitedly. "I don't think you'll distract me with books."

Quickly the two teens found themselves at the center of a gaggle of excited witches and wizards, absolutely incomprehensible as they fought to talk over one another. The only things Harry was certain of was that they were happy to see him, and he was terrified of the lot of them.

Hermione leaned in close over his shoulder so she could be heard above the clamour of the rapidly growing crowd. "Say something!"

Harry turned to look wildly at her. "Nothing's coming to mind."

She pushed him forward a step, and silenced the crowd with a loud noise from her wand. Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper in the ensuing quiet. "If ever there were time for the old Mark Twain quote, it would be now."

"What?" Harry shook his head, deciding quickly he didn't have time to get Hermione to explain whatever brilliant and obscure idea she'd come up with. Instead he cleared his throat, and started talking. His voice wavered at first, picking up confidence and volume as he progressed. The more he spoke, the less he worried about how many people were around, and the more caught up he became.

"Hello. Well, if you're here you can see I'm alive and well. Minister Weasley was telling you the truth about that, and Voldemort was lying about my being, er... dead.

"Oh, please stop flinching when someone says his name. Voldemort. It's not magic, it's just a name. And a false one at that. Voldemort's just a man who hates every one and everything, pretending to be somebody he's not. He's just Tom Marvolo Riddle, an old man who thinks he deserves more than everyone else, and lies and pretends to be someone he's not to get what he wants.

"Over there is a handbill he wrote. Have you read it? He says there will be peace if you just surrender to him. How's that for a lie! How peaceful will it be when he's killing muggleborns, or people like me who wouldn't let him? How peaceful would it be when he demands everything you have, and threatens you if you don't give in again? His thugs, Death Eaters... They're murders, and torturers, foul loathsome excuses for witches and wizards. What do you think he's promised them, to get them to risk their lives for him? Gold? Land? You all, as their slaves? I don't know, but I know letting Death Eaters take what they want from us won't be 'peaceful.'

"Voldemort hasn't stopped me, and I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of giving up just to make things easier for him. And I don't expect anyone here to give up, either. It might not be easy to fight back. It's cost us a lot already, and it'll cost us more before the Death Eaters are gone forever. But we have a choice; do what's right, or do what's easy.

"I say we do what's right."

-->

* * *

Harry slung the backpack into the open passenger door on the last car of the Hogwarts' Express as the train picked up speed. He and Hermione ran hand in hand through the steam cloud, very nearly too late to catch the train. They wove back and forth through the throng crowding the long platform, nearly losing each other and the train itself from time to time. They ducked past a waving family and closed in on the doorway as the train picked up speed. Harry dropped Hermione's hand, instead taking her waist in both hands and hoisting her into the doorway in one smooth move. Hermione squawked in protest, but caught the polished brass grip rail and managed to board without stumbling.

After a handful of running steps, Harry made an abortive jump toward the open doorway and missed as the train continued to pick up speed. He put his head down, and tried to run just a bit faster. It seemed like the train was mocking him, pulling the wrought iron platform and brass handrails just inches out of reach as he tried to close the distance.

"Harry," Hermione called out. "The wall!"

He looked up, and sure enough the brickwork of the station curved around to come within a handspan of the side of the train, completely blocking the boarding platform some fifteen yards ahead. And Harry was running headlong at it.

Harry's breath nearly left him and he tried not to think about how much he could use his broom, shrunken down and tucked away inside the backpack already aboard the train. He tried a little harder, digging deep for some more speed. He was nearly out of space before he slammed into the wall. With a tremendous effort, Harry leapt for the rear platform of the caboose.

He missed.

With a stomach-churning lurch, Harry jerked sideways, barely clearing the brick wall and shooting out over the tracks. He hung in midair, canted crazily sideways and hurling along behind the train. Harry looked up, into the white and wide-eyed face of his girlfriend. It took a moment before he realized she had her wand out, and from the look of sweaty concentration on her face, was holding him a foot off the rail line and some few feet out of reach.

"Thanks," Harry called shakily.

Hermione yelled back. "Ron!"

"No, Harry," he called over the shrill double-blow of the train's steam whistle.

"No, Harry," Hermione yelled back. "Ron!"

"Ron?" Harry's response was almost inaudible over the rattling as the train barreled over the first bridge on the way north out of London. He looked down, and saw green tinted water below the steel girders whipping along past him. "What about Ron?"

"What about me?" Ron poked his head around the doorway, summoned by Hermione' shouting. "And where's- what? Harry, what are you doing off the train?"

Harry glared furiously. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Would both of you shut up!" Hermione interrupted their tete a tete in a near panic. "I can't hold Harry much longer."

The bridge disappeared behind Harry, some buildings whipped past, and then another ancient steel bridge clattered under his feet. "Wait! What?"

"Bugger." Ron paled. "Where'd they keep a rope on a train? Think!"

Harry winced at this. "Ron! Are you a wizard or not? 'Cause I could call for Luna, you know!"

Harry dropped sharply, and pulled his feet up smartly to avoid loosing a toe or five. Hermione gripped her wand with both hands and sank lower as she tried to keep her boyfriend airborne and following along with the rocketing train. "I don't think we've got time." Her voice shook as she spoke.

Ron wasted no time in drawing his scuffed wand from his dungarees. With a wave and a twist, a length of rope shot from Ron's wand and twined about Harry, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Ron!" Harry called. "Not helping!"

Ron very clearly debated some snarky response, but kept silent as Hermione dropped lower as she tried to hold Harry aloft. Instead, he quickly twined the trailing end of his conjured rope about his forearm and braced a worn trainer against the rail. He pulled hard, and the end looped about Harry's middle dragged him in toward the train. But he kept sinking even as he was reeled into the train's landing, finally swinging like some great pendulum from the edge as Hermione's spell faltered. He looked down at the track whizzing past his face, and felt the edge of the platform hard against his back.

With a lurch, Ron dragged him up and onto the platform. Harry tumbled, fetching up against his clearly exhausted girlfriend as Ron sank against the open doorway. Ron dispelled the magical rope, and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Always something with you, isn't it?"

"At least it wasn't a flying car," came Harry's response.

Harry could hear the affectionate irritation in Hermione's voice. "Can neither of you do anything the easy way?"

Ron chuckled. "Not actually."

After the adventure they had simply boarding the train, it took them some time to make their way to a compartment. Fortunately, Ginny and Luna had saved a bench, or else they might not have found two seats in the car. Although there were fewer students coming to Hogwarts this year, the train seemed just as crowded as ever. Hermione idly wondered if the train was charmed to be just as large as was needed.

The three of them dropped heavily into the compartment, and Harry tucked their backpack full of belongings under a bench as Hermione slid the door shut. Ron and Luna shifted around until she ended up sitting on his lap. Ginny sat on the other end of the bench from them, shooting nauseated looks at the two off-kilter lovebirds.

Hermione and Harry took the bench opposite the three of them, holding hands a little tentatively. The first hours of the ride to Hogwarts were full to the brim with talk, trading stories of the summer just past. Hermione took the lead in telling their friends about the summer spent studying and failing miserably to get a first date together. From the other three, Harry and Hermione found that the although the Death Eater attacks continued, they hadn't staged another widespread assault like the one in the first moments of Harry's birthday. Ron and Luna disagreed on the cause, however. He felt they needed time to plan and prepare for another large-scale attack, while she pointed out that if nargles had infested their headquarters, then all the Death Eaters would have a hard time concentrating long enough to plan much beyond lunch runs. But everyone was relieved to know that no one they knew had been hurt or killed in the most recent attacks.

As the conversation wound down, Hermione leaned over to her boyfriend and whispered

in his ear. "You know, we could use the Welcoming Feast as our first date, Harry."

He whispered back. "That doesn't seem very romantic."

Hermione smiled widely. "Harry, the feast is magical. Literally. How much more romantic do you need?"

"Fewer sugar chewing eleven-year-olds would be nice."

"Fair point." Hermione tipped her head, he cloud of curls obscuring her face from the other side of the compartment. "I'll sweeten the pot. Afterwards we can put that cloak of your to good use. Fancy a moonlit walk around the grounds?"

Harry smiled back. "That sounds good."

"It's romantic, it's terribly date-like." Hermione shrugged. "What do you say?"

Harry's smile turned mischievous. "I'd say I'm shocked you're encouraging me to break schools rules."

"Well, if you can summon all of that academic interest on my behalf, I can certainly manage a certain willful indifference for school rules for you."

Harry laughed. "Fair enough. We'll do it, then."

Hermione leaned in towards Harry, but he never got to find out what she was going to do. Instead, they were interrupted by a soft hem-hem from the opposite bench.

Harry looked up at Ginny, brow furrowed. "Do you have to make that noise? You sound like that toad, Umbridge."

"Works at getting your attention," she said cheekily. "I was wondering if I could steal you away for a minute?"

Harry managed a sidelong glance at Hermione, looking for her frown and not finding it before answering. "Sure."

Ginny opened her mouth, then shut it as she looked around to see the whole compartment gone silent as they waited for her. She pinked, and stood abruptly. "C'mon, I don't need my prat brother as an audience."

"Oy," Ron called out as Ginny dragged Harry out of the compartment. "That's uncalled for!"

Harry turned long enough to offer an apologetic shrug to his friends as the small redhead pulled him in tow. Once in the hallway, Ginny closed the compartment door, then turned to look at al the open doors running the length of the train car. She abandoned her plan to drag Harry, and instead spun him around and started pushing him toward the back of car.

He half laughed as he looked over his shoulder to where Ginny was steering him down the narrow, rocking corridor. "Ginny, I just barely jumped on a minute ago. I don't really fancy getting shoved off now."

"Ha, ha," was her only response as she steered him away from the landing and instead steered him toward the water closet at the back of the car. "Is this better."

"No, not really." Harry stumbled as she shoved him in against the sink. She tumbled in after him, and slid the door shut behind them.

Ginny held up a hand to forestall any further complaints. "I know, lousy timing and a worse spot for a talk. Just hear me out."

"I was mad at you last year. I was mad at you even after all of us went to Malfoy Manour to rescue you. That's why I avoided you so much. I couldn't say anything nice to you, and every time I tried, it just came out bitter and ugly.

"Then Ron and I got Hermione's note in the middle of the night. We flew the family brooms to Grimmauld, since the Floo was shut off there. We... I thought you were dead."

Harry looked pained. "Ginny, I-"

"Don't! I need to get all this out first." Ginny waved him to silence. "I'm trying to say that I had a couple of hours of freezing wind and dark where I thought you were dead, and I couldn't stand to think that you'd died before I could stop being mad at you, or ugly to you, or even try to be happy that you were happy dating someone. I'd forgotten that Mister Harry Potter doesn't like to live by the rules, and so I didn't think I'd get a second chance to do this. So here goes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't notice you weren't happy dating me, and I'm sorry I was awful to you and Hermione after we broke up. And I'm sorry I stopped being your friend there for a while, and I'd like to give that a try again. Okay?"

Ginny favored him with an earnest and hangdog expression, and for the first time Harry saw more family resemblance between her and Ron than just their hair. It made his decision infinitely easier.

Harry waved her off. "Everything's okay, Ginny. You weren't all that bad when we broke up, and I can't blame you for being ticked at me for how I went about it. I'm sorry I didn't just talk to you about how I felt, instead of running off like that."

"Apology accepted," Ginny said before worrying her lip. "Just answer me this one question. Why did you dump me?"

Harry's mouth stuck open at this, and Ginny continued hurriedly. "I want to know 'cause I'm going to start dating again, and I don't really want to have everything blow up in my face all over again. I don't want to make the same mistakes again. And I know it's got to be something I missed, because I thought we were doing really well at the exact same time you were figuring we were over and done with.

"So, can you help me out on this?"

"Um, Ginny..." Harry thought the WC walls were closing in on him. "We- or rather, I-"

Harry's rambling was interrupted as the bathroom door opened and Hermione squeezed in next to Ginny. She pulled her hair back into a messy knot, and looked back and forth between Harry and Ginny. "You know, locking yourself in a lavatory with your ex looks terribly suspicious."

"Um, Hermione..." Now Harry was certain the walls were closing in. "I- or I mean, we-"

Ginny dissolved into giggles, and Hermione smiled. "Never fear Harry. I trust you. I'm terribly sorry, but sometimes you're too easy to wind up."

"Sometimes?" Ginny snorted. "When is he not?"

"Well, he does sleep sometimes." Hermione smirked at Ginny. "Not that I don't enjoy tweaking your nose, Harry, but I came to let you know what's going on before you try walking to the compartment."

The dull confusion left Harry's green eyes, replaced instantly by a hard, sharp clarity. "What's going on?"

"There are Aurors all over the train." Hermione looked uneasy. "And Dawlish is leading them, so it would be a good thing to keep you two apart."

Harry's brow creased. "Well, it is even odds whether we'd just insult each other or actually start throwing curses. But I think stationing Aurors here to protect the students from Death Eaters is a pretty good plan."

"That would be a good plan, Harry." Her brow wrinkled worriedly. "Unfortunately that's not what they're doing."

Ginny beat him to the punch. "What are they doing?"

"They're... Oh Harry, they're searching the train for Professor Snape, they're trying to arrest him again. And they want to question you about... what happened on your birthday. I've put a Notice-Me-Not charm on the lavatory, and they should be gone in a moment, but I wanted to make sure-"

"That I didn't go walking right out into the middle of our Un-Welcome Party," Harry finished for her. "Thanks."

Ginny shifted sideways a little, bumping into both Harry and Hermione. "Not that I'm not thrilled with the accommodations in here, but how long do we have to stay locked in a privy together?"

"Not too much longer, I should think. Ron's supposed to- Ah, there it is." Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a seemingly solid gold Galleon, now vibrating softly. Clearly the Protean charms Hermione had placed on the Defense Association coins years ago were still both strong and dead useful. "That's the all clear signal."

Bumping into both of the other two people squashed in the lavatory, Hermione managed to turn about and draw her wand. She lifted the Notice-Me-Not Charm and unlock the door. Unfortunately though, she threw the catch as the train rumbled over a rough part of the track, and all three teens were unceremoniously dumped into the passageway. Hermione fetched up against a thick, broad chest and pushed herself upright. Ginny caught herself on Hermione, and Harry barely managed to keep from collapsing over Ginny. All three looked up into Vincent Crabbe's smirking face.

"Heard you had a fing abou' getting your kit off'n bathrooms, Potter." He ran a short fingered hand over the bristly hair on his head. "Didn't know you was inter menageries. Think you can give lessons on that in the DA?"

The three Gryffindors flushed as the implication hit home. Hermione was beaten to the punch by Ginny Weasley. "Now see here, you- you- you hydrocephalic flobberworm! If you ever-"

"If I ever," Crabbe interrupted as he pulled himself as upright as he could manage. "I'd like ta think you'd be speechess after, know wot I mean?"

"Yes, disgust and vomiting do leave a girl speechless!"

Crabbe elbowed Hermione and jerked a stumpy thumb at Ginny. " I like her. 'S a bit like winding up yer ex, only wif good bits ta look at."

Hermione's jaw dropped open at this.

Crabbe found himself pushed as far to one side as a wizard as wide as he could be in such a narrow passageway as Goyle shoved in. "Not'ta put a crimp on the witty repartee, but we don't got time fer this!"

Harry pressed in at this. "What's wrong?"

"It's Pansy," Goyle said worriedly. "She's gone all evil mastermind, I figure."

Harry blinked, and caught Hermione's eye. Hermione snorted first, and that set Harry off into gales of laughter. Hermione leaned against the passageway wall and held a hand to her mouth to cover her own giggling fit. "Pansy Parkinson is an evil mastermind? Pansy?"

Harry poked Hermione in the side, only to have his hand slapped away by a ticklish girlfriend. "Watch out everyone, it's Pansy!"

"I'm not kidding," Goyle continued. "She's got herself minions she 'as."

This was enough to distract Ginny from eyeballing Crabbe menacingly. "Minions? Pansy has minions? You mean she has Pansy Minions?"

This restarted Hermione's giggles. "Oh, I don't even know how to make fun of that. Pansy Minions?"

Harry looked perplexed. "Where did she find anyone dumb enough to be her minion?"

"Not to put a damper on anyone's comedy club routine," Goyle said truculently, "But the bint's taken the Dark Mark."

This sobered everyone up just as quickly as the tall Slytherin had hoped in would. "Oh, everyone over the case of the giggles?"

"What's she doing right now?" Hermione was suddenly very intense and focused.

"Right now, nuthin'." Crabbe gnawed a nail off and spat it onto the worn carpeting. "I mean, the Portkey targets don't go off for a while, and it's not like she needs to do nufink to 'em now she's placed 'em all up and down the train."

There was a moment of silence, disrupted only by the wet ptish of Crabbe spitting out another sliver of fingernail. Hermione shot a horrified glance at Ginny, who'd gone even more pale than usual.

Ginny spoke first. "If you enchant an item right, a Portkey can hit a moving target-"

Harry slipped past Hermione and Ginny, and bulled his way past Crabbe and Goyle, managing to bounce both of the very large Slytherins off the passageway walls as he went. A moment behind him, Hermione shoved her way past the two huge goons. Crabbe pushed himself vertical after she past him, and tugged his robes straight as he looked Ginny Weasley up and down.

"So, 's your turn to man'andle me, Red. Be gentle wif me, I'm delicate."

Ginny rolled her eyes and pantomimed gagging. Crabbe's retort was cut short as Goyle grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him after the rapidly disappearing Gryffindors. Ginny followed along as close as she could without bumping into Crabbe.

The three of them made their wending way through the throngs of students filling the passageway, in large measure due to Goyle forcibly clearing a hole. They arrived at Pansy's compartment to find the sliding door gone without a trace and Theodore Nott crumpled in a bloody heap under the cracked window. Harry and Hermione were in a tense standoff, wands held on Parkinson, who had an unsorted firstie clutched in front of her, her wand dimpling the soft skin under his jaw.

"Pans," Goyle gasped as he slid to a halt arms out to bar Ginny and Crabbe from interfering. "You don't wanna do this. I saw this bloke pull a tower down onna coupla Eaters. You know, for shits. You don't wanna do this."

Pansy blew a lock of errant raven black hair out of her face, quickly throwing a glance over her shoulder at the rocky terrain of the Scottish Highland sliding by outside. "What I don't want to do is fail the Dark Lord."

"Yeah," Goyle said with a shrug. "Speaking of, the Boy Wonder over here blew a hole bigger'n me man-tackle in his back."

"And still he lives," Pansy's eyes lit at this. "Nothing can stop my Lord."

Harry drew a very careful bead on her forehead as Pansy's pocket watch chimed. "I don't think the same can be said for you, Pansy."

"It doesn't matter, you twit!" Pansy laughed. "You're too late. Reinforcements are here!"

Harry's wand snapped vertical, and he grabbed it with both hands and concentrated as hard as he could. He had no reason to think this would work, but it was all that he could think of. "Iacto Portkey Targets!"

Pansy's watch shot by her head like a golden bullet, and she released the young student as she fought to keep it from flying through the window behind her. The boy bolted past them and away down the corridor as all along the train came the sounds of breaking glass and splintering wood as dozens of seemingly innocuous items suddenly launched themselves away from the train. Pansy managed to pull the pocket watch halfway back into the compartment before it activated.

In a rush of light and color, three Death Eaters appeared by Portkey. One landed in the compartment, one tumbled across an unconscious Nott, and one plummeted shrieking past the shattered compartment window.

Through the windows, Goyle caught sight of at least two more groups appearing suddenly midair at more than a hundred kilometres an hour, far from the train. Some managed to Apparate away, some didn't. The still, black robed shapes were left behind almost instantly.

Then the compartment exploded in fire and lightning, spells hurtling forth and being blocked at arms length. Harry held both masked Death Eaters and Pansy off with an array of shields and summoned bits of wreckage intercepting Unforgivables, while Hermione pounded them with Reductors.

Goyle fell back from the shower of white hot sparks and wooden shrapnel from the heated spell work, a suddenly bloody hand in front of his face providing his only protection. Next to him, the woodwork exploded as a deflected spell narrowly missed him. The next volley drove him to the ground, and he pulled Ginny down with him as three red blurs skittered down the passage at head level.

Crabbe thundered past him with a bellow. Forsaking his wand, the shorter Slytherin crossed his arms over his face and hit the one masked Death Eater as hard as he could with a full body check. Magical shielding intended to halt spell fire crackled and died as Crabbe hit like a bull elephant, pitching the man halfway out the wreck of the compartment window.

The Death Eater still slumped over Nott turned his wand on Crabbe in a desperate effort to save his partner. Crabbe's leg snapped in a series of loud crunches under the blue coils of a Bone-Breaker Hex, and he dropped to his one good knee with a howl.

"Supare!" Hermione yelled out, and the prone Death Eaters wand and wand hand dropped to the rubble strew floor. Beads of seat dotting his bright red face, Crabbe grabbed the legs of the Death Eater hanging halfway out of the window, and finished defenestrating him.

A quick spell from Harry dropped Pansy in a heap over Nott and the Death Eater fumbling desperately to staunch the wound where once his hand had been. Crabbe fell back onto the floor, leaning up against of the benches.

Ginny rushed into the compartment, and started casting charms to freeze Crabbe's leg in place, so the broken bones didn't do more damage as they shifted about. Looking nauseous, Harry stopped the bleeding of the Death Eater on the ground, and then stunned him twice. Pansy was also stunned again, but after a quick check, nothing more was done to Nott.

Goyle shoved in alongside Ginny, and hunched over Crabbe, grabbing his hand. "That was an ace hit, mate."

Pale and sweaty, Crabbe smirked nonetheless. "Noticed that, didja? Not a bad bit o' business."

"You did good." Goyle ran his free hand through his short, curly hair before patting Crabbe's hand. "Everything'll be fine. You'll be just fine mate."

Crabbe looked up at his friend. "I'm gone cold, Vincent."

Goyle sniffled. "'S'Okay, I 'spect. Just yer body healing an' all. You'll be right topper in no time."

"Are you two dense?" Ginny snapped at them. "You're cold because there's a bloody wind coming in through the bloody hole in the bloody wall!"

"Ginny! Language," was Hermione response.

Ginny looked back and forth between the two Slytherins, then slowly looked down to where they were still holding hands. "You do realize Crabbe actaully is going to be alright, don't you? I'm nearly done here, though Madam Pomfrey really should have a look."

Crabbe looked up hopefully. "Really?"

Ginny snorted. "Really."

Goyle dropped his friend's hand as though it burned. "Right then, I'l just go, uh, clean up the train a bit.

Crabbe coughed. "Yeah, I'll just cop a rest fer a bit."

Ginny pushed herself upright, and stifled her laughter until she moved out of the compartment. It was a fantastically hard thing to manage. Instead she tracked Harry and Hermione to where they were leaning up against the scarred and smoking wood paneling of the passageway. "You two were brilliant."

Harry looked drawn and pale. " I killed Ted Nott. I didn't mean to, he just..."

"Harry," Hermione began soothingly, "he was a Death Eater, and he was trying to kill everyone on the train. What else could you have done."

"Nothing." Harry looked up. "It doesn't change the fact he'll never see the other side of eighteen."

"I'm just glad you did it," Ginny said evenly, drawing a brief, bald glare from Hermione.

"I just wish no one ever had to," was Harry's reply. "Listen, Hermione. You make sure the train keeps going 'til it reaches Hogwarts. I'll try to get a message to Dumbledore, let him know what happened. Ginny, round up the DA, and see if they can't get the train fixed up, or half the school'll have a hundred sick eleven-year-olds with all the cold wind."

"And try to calm them down," Hermione interjected, a hand on Ginny's arm. "I imagine they're half hysterical by now."

Ginny shrugged. "Sure. Sorry, but I guess your date's kind of wrecked for tonight."

Now both Harry and Hermione glared at her, and Ginny toed the rubble-strewn passageway floor. "Uh, not that you were even thinking of that right now, because of the Death Eaters. I'll, uh, get going."

Ginny turned and left in a hurry, not staying to watch the other two trudge off to do what more they could.

* * *

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* * *

Harry's last ride on the Hogwarts' Express just kept getting more and more interesting, and all he could do was hope that it would please stop.

He'd sent his Patronus forward to warn Dumbledore, although he knew no one could Portkey or Apparate onto the train. Following that, Harry spent a tense half-hour helping to fix the myriad holes he'd blown through the train walls, and calming the students. It turned out Ginny just couldn't deal with the damage on her own, as the magics that allowed the train to move resisted her spells fairly stubbornly. In her capacity as Head Girl, Hermione was doing exactly the same thing Harry was, as was Head Boy Justin Finch-Fletchly. Harry has asked Hermione and Justin to leave the Slytherin's ruined compartment as it was, in the event there was some evidence to be found in the debris.

Nonetheless, the three of them were getting increasingly tense as the realities of the situation ground down upon them. Despite the positions and badges, a great many of the younger students just wouldn't accept Hermione's or Justin's words of comfort and assurance. Over and over, they had to call Harry in to repeat the exact same platitudes they'd used, only to find compartment after compartment accept his dicta as law. Justin had pulled Harry into the passageway to snap at him in a harshly controlled whisper when it happened.

"Damn it Potter! I'm Head Boy, not you!" Justin tugged on Harry's arm, pulling him toward the rubble of the ruined compartment, where no one would overhear. "You've got to stop this, or the younger one's won't listen to their Prefects!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Harry's eyes blazed. "You think I want-"

In a rush of hot wind and harsh light, flames burst into existence in the midst of the wrecked compartment Pansy had chosen for her last stand. The flames quickly expanded into a ball before disappearing just as quickly. Headmaster Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey dropped an inch to the smoking and torn carpeting as Fawlkes released his passengers before disappearing in an abbreviated bolt of flame. The two looked over to where Harry had his wand trained on them, his free hand holding Justin down and behind cover.

"Professor Dumbledore," Finch-Fletchly called out. "Thank goodness you're-"

"Tell me something only we'd know," Harry interrupted.

"What?" Justin goggled up at Harry. "Are you deranged? That's the headmaster and Chief Justice of the Wizengamot you're holding a wand on!"

"I'm afraid Mister Potter's caution isn't misplaced." Dumbledore smiled gently, then turned to look at the shattered window and unconscious Death Eaters behind him. A firm hand reached out to hold Madam Pomfrey in check, before she could bend to treat the injured. "Poppy, a moment please whist we identify ourselves as being ourselves, and not Tom's followers under the cover of Polyjuice.

"Harry, at the end of last year I told you that reasons to give your life were scattered liberally around, and very easy to find. The reasons to fight and live freely are the important ones."

Harry nodded, but kept his wand up.

Madam Pomfrey exhaled loudly. "Now can I treat my patients?"

"You next, Madam Pomfrey." Harry's voice was kind and polite, but his wand didn't waver.

"Me next? But Professor Dumbledore-" At the hard look she received from one of her charges, the kindly Mediwitch's eyes eyes narrowed. "Fine, Mister Potter. If you insist on having the healer who's treated every broken bone for seven years go through this ridiculous charade, I can can mange quite well, thank you. You've a birthmark and three moles in very delicate location that, when viewed from the side look like-"

"That's good, Madam Pomfrey!" Harry lifted his wand with a sudden jerk, holding his other hand up to forestall her, and talking both fast and loud.

"Are you quite sure?" The Mediwitch tipped her head to one side. "I'd hate to leave you doubting me, if I didn't put your mind to rest."

"No, we're good here!"

She looked like she had more to say, but instead turned and dropped to the floor in order to attend the wounded.

Dumbledore patted her shoulder and turned to the Head Boy. "Well done, Mister Finch-Fletchly. I can see you've left this compartment as it was, and started work on the rest of the train. Good thinking. If you and Miss Granger can continue as you were and keep the younger students reassured, Mister Potter and I will see to the safe delivery of the train to Hogwarts without further.... interruption."

"Of course, Pro... Professor." Justin trailed off, as the Headmaster and Harry hurried off in the direction of the front of train, and he found himself talking to air that tasted like smoke. "I'll just keep doing what I can, here."

At the front of the train, Dumbledore ran a hand over the wood paneling that blocked the corridor at the head the first carriage. For the first time, Harry found himself noting how thin the skin stretched along his bony hand was, and how despite the power and assurance in his gestures, deep blue veins were visible spidering down, disappearing into the Headmaster's sleeve.

Suddenly the paneling split and peeled back to reveal a brass-sheathed sliding door. Through a small sand cast brass grill, Harry could see the scarlet steam engine bouncing and rocking some six feet away. Dumbledore turned to Harry with a smile. "Alas, it isn't as impressive as it appears. Much like the castle itself, the train simply recognizes those who should come and go, and makes the adjustments itself."

The Headmaster slid the door open, and the pulsing roar of the engine and squealing clatter of the wheels on the track rolled over them. Coils of hot, wet steam whipped around and past the two of them, and Dumbledore's long white beard and hair joined the steam in whipping about wildly. "A great deal of my authority comes from the seemingly mysterious exercise of simplest of things without offering explanation. I'm sure there's some sort of lesson there, Harry."

A wide and somewhat childlike smile crossed his face, and the old Headmaster turned and leapt across the huge iron fittings that linked the engine to the train of carriages behind it. He tapped the engineer's door at the rear of the engine, and it slid open revealing a darkened doorway, which he slipped into quickly.

Harry looked down at the track racing past his feet, then across to the landing on the engine opposite him. "I suppose it's got to go better the second time."

Harry jumped across without incident, and let out the breath he was unaware he'd been holding. He slipped inside the engineer's room, and closed the door to block out the noise and steam. Turning, he found the Headmaster on one knee, deep in whispered conversation with a handful of House Elves. There was no forward wall in the engineer's compartment; instead a vast steel boiler painted the same scarlet as the outside of the engine dominated the tiny room. The only fittings in the simple wood and steel compartment were a scant handful of brass gauges and pipes, a pair of simple windows that faced the sides of the train, and a pair of brass levers projecting upwards through the floor. There wasn't a stick of furniture to be found. Ignoring the much taller intruders, three more House Elves were busy using their own innate magic to stoke the fires of the Express' boiler.

Harry gave them all a respectful distance, waiting for Dumbledore to rise slowly and turn back to him. The Headmaster pulled Harry close, and leaned in. "Somewhat obviously, the path the Express follows can be found by anyone who chooses to look carefully. The station in Hogsmeade is outside the school's wards, and thus outside the safety provided there. Indeed, the very time of our arrival is well known. Those of Tom's men who recovered from your abrupt expulsion of their Portkey Targets will have by now reported back that their attack on the train was a resounding failure. I should think it wise to avoid giving our adversaries any more easy targets, and so it would be best if we arrived unexpectedly."

"But how can we-" Harry began before cutting himself off abruptly. "You're not going to levitate the train, are you?"

"Heavens no, my boy!" Dumbledore leaned down. "It's far too heavy to be lifted for more than a short while, even if one happens to be rather good at overly dramatic bits of magic. Also, I should think a gently floating train would be as good a target as one at ground level."

"Then how...?"

"We simply have to arrive at Hogsmeade a good deal earlier than expected." Dumbledore's thick eyebrows raised significantly, and Harry knew that the Headmaster already had a plan of action. Moreover, he very clearly expected Harry to puzzle it out.

Harry glanced around the engineer's compartment for a clue, knowing that there had to be some reason for coming here. But there was little to look at other than the House Elves tending to the boiler.

The boiler...

"Steam," Harry muttered to himself. He barely noticed as the Headmaster nodded. "The train runs on steam. The more steam, the faster the engine goes. So we... Incendio?"

"Exactly." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder, and pointed a gnarled finger at the open boiler door the Elves were busied with. "The hottest fire you can conjure, please. We'll test the charms work holding the engine together. Headmaster Astlercork was very proud of his work, and I think it's about time we give this engine a chance to prove that his pride was well placed."

"Wait!" His eyes felt as wide as his glasses. "'Holding the engine together?'"

"Indeed." The Headmaster pointed to the bolts the size of crabapples that ringed the boiler from roof to floor. "The steam that pushes this train forward also tries to tear the boiler apart, rather a bit like a muggle bomb The bolts and rivets are, alas, not decorative in the slightest. Those gauges over there describe the pressure in the boiler, and that one the speed. I have every reason to believe you can get a rather more speed out of this engine than is usual. It is an Express, after all."

"Me?"

"Yes." Dumbledore removed his spectacles and tucked them into the folds of his robe before pulling out a beaded thong and binding his beard into something not unlike a girl's pony tail. "While you accelerate the engine, I'll be at the door behind us. The twin tasks of holding the train cars together and keeping them on the track should be... finicky."

"Finicky."

"Quite." The Headmaster drew his wand, and with a second thong bound his hand to the polished wooden haft. "Perhaps the next time we do this, you'll handle this set of charms. But for now, why don't you start on the fires, hmm?"

Harry turned to the boiler, and muttered, "I'm pretty sure we won't live long enough to try this again."

Harry knelt down, and turned to the House Elves. "You might want to, er, pop back to Hogwarts. Apparently this might blow up."

All of the House Elves looked offended at the suggestion, but only one spoke up in a reedy, piping voice. "We is staying where we is needed. We is House Elves. The Red Engine will not 'blow up!'"

Harry nodded. "Alright then. Best back up though. Incendio!"

And with that the fires in in the boiler leapt higher, going so far as to shoot out of the coal hatch. He noticed the fires were rapidly shifting from reddish-yellow to a nearly pure white. Then the sweat began to hit his eyes, and his vision became progressively fuzzier.

Harry had never used this spell for anything but lighting a fireplace or a candle, tasks for which the spell was applied and abruptly stopped. Holding one's wand on a candle for a moment too long due to inattentiveness was a surefire way to reduce a reading light to a pool of wax on Madam Pince's ancient library trestle tables. This usually ended in a three hour stint cleaning the darkest recesses of the library without magic, and never forgetting to cut one's Incendio off promptly again. For the first time, Harry discovered how much more difficult it was trying to keep the spell going for minutes at a time.

He swiped his eyes clear of sweat, and tried looking for the polished brass gauges Dumbledore had pointed out earlier but all Harry could see was the endless blackness of the corners of the compartment, and the unrelieved burning white light of the open boiler itself.

"Harry!" Hearing his name, he turned to look over his shoulder, and saw the Headmaster wreathed in a blue nimbus, tendrils of light arcing and snapping away from his wand to shoot down the length of the train on some unseen task. "I'm afraid we need rather more speed. Perhaps it's time to try a more... inflammable spell."

"Yes, Professor!" Harry cut his Incendio off, and the flames quickly died down to their former yellow. He snapped his wand up to his shoulder, then down sharply and to the left. "Inflamare!"

Instantly the heat slammed into Harry like a solid wall, or like some malicious living thing. The walls wavered unsteadily through the superheated air, and the backs of his hands and his face felt burnt by the flames as they licked and jumped out of the square coal hatch. The heat shot straight down his throat, burning his nose and lungs, and all Harry could taste was coal and ash. To his right, something cracked with a tinkle of broken glass, and a thin jet of steam shot forth from what was once a gauge. The jet diminished and finally stopped as a pair of House Elves worked over it energetically.

Harry didn't have to worry about wiping the sweat from his face, as it was now evaporating quicker than he could sweat. Small, nimble fingers fastened a blue and white striped cloth over his nose and mouth, and Harry looked around to see the House Elves had all donned similar kerchiefs to hold the roaring heat at bay. He shook his head, and redoubled his efforts on the Inflamare charm.

Suddenly Harry was thrown to one side of the compartment, and the flickering magics tying him to the engine vanished. He turned to see Professor Dumbledore braced in the doorway of the wildly tilted compartment, bluish bolts shooting out from his wand just as fast as he could move it. Harry grabbed the edge of the engineer's window, and pulled himself upright. Looking out, he could see that the steel and wood tracks were ripping themselves up from the sodden Scottish peat and swinging up and to the side to catch the train as it barreled forward far faster than he could have imagined. The tracks racked a bit under a jolt of magical energy, and the heaving scarlet engine swung back upright with a screech of over stressed steel.

"Just a bit more speed, my boy!"

For his part, Harry had to give the Headmaster at least a momentary glare as he wondered if the old man had at last lost it completely. From the matching stares of the House Elves, he wasn't alone in wondering. But Harry dutifully scrabbled back into position before the great scarlet boiler.

He couldn't think of a more potent spell than Inflamare, and wished that Hermione was there with him. He thought that if anyone had read a book like 101 Incredibly Obscure Spells for Firing An Antique Boiler on a Runaway Victorian Train, it would most likely be her. He shook his head, and thought harder. Spells all seemed to use the same rules, or at least versions of the same rules. He needed to think of a way of making a spell stronger.

He knew Lumos Maxima, which was a vastly brighter version of the normal light spell. He also knew Protego Maximus, which was a more difficult and more effective shielding spell than the usual Protego. Maybe Maximus or Maxima would allow him to fire the boiler hotter than just Inflamare. The problem was, he didn't know which to use. Harry rolled the words around inside his head, tasting them all. In the end, he decided to go with what sounded best to him.

"Inflamare Maxima!" Harry yelled it as loud as he could, and for a long second nothing happened. And then pulsing and flaring light gathered around his wand, and reached out ever so slowly toward the coal hatch in absolute silence. Once the pulsing light touched the licking flames, the silence was broken by a sudden, deafening roar. The magical light surged through the firebed of the boiler, and alarmingly the flames leapt up the beam to lick and flicker around Harry's wand. Then the roar built to a screech, and it felt like Harry himself was on fire, the heat from the engine was so great. The sudden waves of heat and exhaustion drove Harry to the deck, and the flames now surrounding his wand scared him, but he kept the spell going, even as the last of the gauges shattered and screamed around him.

Peering into the fire, it seemed to Harry that the once square coal hatch now turned jagged, like a great fanged mouth belching fire straight into him. Shadows danced around him, and dragging his attention away from the flames, they resolved themselves into House Elves, popping into and out of existence as they used their magic to keep the great bolts holding the boiler together from flying off. From the single glowing hole at ten o'clock, it looked as if the first of the bolts had already surrendered.

Harry dropped lower still, both hands holding his jumping and shaking wand, propped up only by his elbows on the scorching deck of the engineer's compartment.

With a screech and a ping, a second bolt gave way, and punched a hand-sized hole in the side of the compartment. A torrent of steam spilled forth to fill the compartment, and Harry couldn't breath as the air itself started to cook everyone there.

"Reparo," Harry croaked, his lungs burning. The hole sealed itself off, the light of the boiler no longer visible through through it. A second, more choking Reparo patched the first snapped bolt, and Harry managed to clear the air wordlessly, no longer certain he could say a spell aloud.

Rough hands caught him, and touched his throat. Indistinctly, he saw a trio of House Elves muttering, and his burning throat and tightened lungs suddenly loosened, the pain slipping away. He pushed himself up on his elbows again, and saw that the engineer crew had caught him and somehow managed to heal the burns from the steam.

One of the House Elves spoke up, his reedy voice roughened by the steam and smoke. "We is saying, our Red Engine is not to be 'blowing up.'"

"Well done," Dumbledore called from the doorway, and Harry couldn't miss the exhaustion in his voice. "We're should be arriving two hours early, and mostly intact."

"Mostly," Harry croaked.

"Don't fall asleep, Harry. You still need to stop the train."

Harry looked toward the doorway, where the blue lines of energy were uncoiling from the Headmaster more slowly now, and sluggishly twirling off towards their assigned tasks further down the train. Professor Dumbledore was very clearly hanging onto one of the handrails to keep himself erect, and Harry knew he would be on his own stopping the train.

He pushed himself to his feet, and decided to blame his swaying and staggering on the unpredictable jostling of the train. He fetched up against a wall near the House Elves, and crouched down nose to nose with one of them. "When do we have to slow down?"

The Elves conferred a moment. "Five miles ago," one yelled back shrilly over the squealing wheels.

"Right." Harry came to his feet as the train bounced back to port. "So we're rogered."

The House Elves busied themselves with the brake levers, and tortured squeals filled the compartment as the pads overheated almost instantly. Harry stuck his head out one of the windows, and saw yellow sparks leaping from the huge steel wheels up and down the length of the train. In places, a dull red glow issued from under the carriages.

Harry yelled back to the House Elves. "I don't think pushing harder on the brakes will do anything."

The talkative elf yelled back from where he had his shoulder to one of the levers and his feet dug into the wall opposite. "No, it be doing a great many things! Very bad things!"

"Right," Harry muttered to himself. "So what would Dumbledore do right now?"

The first thing that came to mind was that he'd probably let Harry deal with it, since that seemed to work most of the time. Harry shook the thought off as uncharitable, and tried to focus on the more impressive things he'd seen the Headmaster do over the years. He knew there had to be something there, if only he could remember it. Harry knew Professor Dumbledore wouldn't leave this for him to handle without knowing he could succeed. Then he remembered something.

Harry remembered being freezing cold, and soaking wet. He'd been on the verge of unconsciousness, a horrible scream echoing in his ears, but he heard the Headmaster shout out a spell as if from very, very far away. Come to think of it, the spell had come from very far away. Harry had been falling from a dizzying height at the time...

Harry offered a silent thanks to Ms. Aedernams for the contact lenses, as loosing his glasses was the one thing he wasn't going to have to worry about as he threw one of the engineer's windows wide open. "This is so not a good idea."

Harry tucked his wand into his pocket, and started climbing out the window. There was some commotion in the compartment behind him, but he couldn't hear it over the roar of the wind and the screech of the wheels. Harry ducked his head, eyes tightly shut, and felt his clothes battering and slapping at him. As he pulled his legs through the tiny window, the wind nearly plucked him from the train and pulled him aloft. Instead Harry clutched the wall of the cabin with both hands and let his feet blindly scrabble to find purchase on the narrow gangway that surmounted the wheels. Finally achieving some measure of stability, Harry pried one hand free from the wall to fumble for his wand. He couldn't afford to drop it now, even as the front wheels kicked sparks up and over him. Behind him flickering blue energy still arced over and along the length of the train, sent forth by the Headmaster's wand.

Despite the blurriness of a world seen squinting through a windstorm, Harry could still see the gingerbread roofline of Hogsmeade ahead of the train. If this was going to work, it would have to work now.

Harry leveled his wand at the great train and yelled. "Arresto Momentum!"

The first of the Tudor buildings whipped past him as the heaving, sparking train slowed. The wind ripped at him, and Harry knew they were still hurtling down the tracks much faster than they should. He caught a glimpse of more than one wide-mouthed white face staring at the train as it blew through the small town. Harry frantically tried to recall the Hogsmeade station. No matter how often he'd been there, he'd never thought to notice the tracks. Did they continue on past the town, or dead end there?

Harry decided he didn't like the phrase 'dead end.'

With a bit more of a flourish, Harry brandished his wand and yelled again, "Arresto Momentum!"

Now hanging tiredly from the train, Harry tried again and again as the train passed the buildings slower and slower. The sparks died down along with the wind, until only the squealing of the brakes remained. With a final crunch the train came to a halt, and great plumes of steam erupted from the engine all about him.

Harry looked forward, and saw that the wooden trestle marking the end of the line was stove in by the prow of the engine, and the front wheels were some eight feet from the end of the tracks themselves. Harry looked up at the compartment window over his head, and decided against trying to climb back in. Instead he figured he could just sit still for a little bit. He heaved a great, tired sigh and lowered himself to sit upon the gangplank, back against the great scarlet engine itself.

He just needed a moment to catch his breath.

Justin Finch-Fletchly appeared through the steam, herding the younger students toward the carriages that would take them to the safety of the castle's walls and wards. His charges slowed to an awed and whispering halt, staring wide-eyed up at Harry on the Express' engine. Harry couldn't help but note the crowd managed to form a good four metres away from him as usual.

"What's the hold up here?" Justin's Eton enunciation was as clear as ever as he shuffled through the herd of youngsters on the platform. "What do you- Harry? What are you doing on the engine? How did we get here early?"

"Just get everyone into the castle," Harry answered wearily. "I'm just catching my breath. I'll be along in a moment."

"But how did we-" Justin trailed off, paling despite the two spots of high colour on his cheeks. "I see. Everyone! Keep moving! Everyone move in an orderly line to the carriages! This way!"

Thankfully, Justin's terribly loud voice disappeared into the clouds of steam along with the first crowd of students. A few more prefects passed Harry, escorting Hogwarts students toward the safety of the castle as he rested against the engine.

Finally feeling a little more normal, Harry stood up and poked his head into the engine compartment. "Professor Dumbledore! Are you still in here?"

The Headmaster's voice was incredibly soft and worn. "Most definitely. And here I shall remain for a bit longer. I haven't your youth to see me through leaping to my feet again after such a foolhardy display of raw magic. I think I'll rest a bit longer here."

"Are you alright?" That had Harry's brow furrowed with worry.

"Certainly, my boy." Despite the obvious exhaustion in his voice, Harry could hear the laughter too. "I'm tired, not dead. But if you wouldn't mind directing Madam Pomfrey here, I think I could do with one of her Pepper-Up Potions. Never mind the unfortunate effect they have on my beard."

Reenergized by his concern for his mentor, Harry leapt down from the engine and wove through the press of students still heading for the carriages. He craned and twisted his head, searching for the Mediwitch amongst the throng of students being chivved none too gently toward the castle. Finally, he caught sight of Madam Pomfrey's distinctive white whipple through the crowd, escorting two unconscious forms bobbing horizontally behind her.

Harry ran up, skidding to a stop in front of the Hogwarts matron. "Madam Pomfrey! Professor Dumbledore's in the engineer's compartment and he needs a Pepper-Up potion."

The Mediwitch gestured toward Pansy and the handless Death Eater floating behind her. "Mister Potter! I've two seriously injured patients right here. I'm afraid the Headmaster's need for a potion will have to wait until I've stabilized these two."

"I s'pect you got two attempted murderers here, really. An' one o' the biggest wands in the castle 'o needs 'elp." Goyle cleared his throat from one side, where he was helping a limping Crabbe toward a carriage. "I'm just sayin' is all."

One of the Ravenclaws from Harry's Mediwizard Seminar, Veruca, spoke up. "Madam Pomfrey? Harry and I can get these two up to hospital."

The pinched and worried Mediwitch heaved a great, shoulder shaking sigh. "Oh, very well! I expect to see them in bed and recovering when I get there!"

Veruca nodded, but Madam Pomfrey was already bundling off towards the steam engine, her potions bag clasped under her bosom. Veruca leaned over Pansy's unconscious and floating body, leaning a hand on the Death Eater's face as she whispered. "We are going to be chaining them to those beds, though, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry whispered back, still watching Poppy stalk off.

"An I'm gettin' me leg worked on by Lord McBlows-Things-Up," Crabbe grumbled from his position hanging off Goyle. "You just leave a roof on the place when yer done wit me."

Veruca rolled her eyes. "I'll handle it, Slytherin. What'd you do, trip while running for the sweets cart?"

"Threw the last bloke what miffed me out a window, luv." Crabbe eyed the tiny Ravenclaw up and down. "You know wot yer doin'?"

She snorted at him. "Do you?"

A wide grin split Crabbe's round face. "Never!"

Veruca rolled her eyes at Harry. "And I thought it was you Gryffs that would give me grey hair!"

The diminutive Ravenclaw waved her wand, and the two unconscious Death Eaters drifted along after her. Harry and the two Slytherins hurried to catch up.

Goyle leaned over to whisper at Harry. "Granger, Cho, Weasley, Lovegood, Delacour and now Salt up there. You know any birds wot ain't real lookers?"

"What?" Harry blinked and looked up at the tall, curly haired Slytherin. He noticed that Goyle kept shooting sidelong looks at Veruca. "Got yourself a new fancy, have you?"

"Well, she can slap Crabbe here around pretty easy. I like that, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't," was Crabbe's response. "First yet holdin' me 'and, now yer sayin' you like wotchin' me get slapped aroun'. Is there somethin' you ain't tellin' me, Greg?"

Goyle shot a venomous look at his friend. "You want me to drop you?"

"Not really." Crabbe grinned.

Goyle grimaced briefly, before switching to an oddly earnest expression. "'S like she could give as good as she gets, you know?"

"An' I say that still sounds pretty pouffy." Crabbe spat onto the train platform.

"Oy! You want to hear all about me manliness, I can tell you stories about me an' every one o' your girlfriends!"

"Stories is about right," Crabbe answered in his slow, thick voice. "You want the truth, I'll tell you about me an' yer mum."

Harry tried very hard to tune out the rest of their conversation on the way up to the castle. He kept a weather eye out for Hermione, but she was nowhere to be seen. Given how many students appeared to have already made it to the castle proper, it wasn't much of a stretch to figure that she had already escorted a fair bit of the student body inside. Harry decided to pick up the pace as much as he could.

They had nearly limped to the towering entryway to the Great Hall when Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep blue Auror robes swept from the castle towards them. He cast tight eyes around the grounds before addressing them directly. "Potter, where's the Headmaster? He's supposed to be here."

"He's still on the train, sir." Although the Auror robes didn't mean as much to him as they used to, Shaklebolt's role in the Order still earned him a reflexive 'sir' from Harry. "He's exhausted, sir, and Madam Pomfrey is looking after him."

Kingsley flicked his wand discretely by his side, and two white bolts shot into the castle. Keeping his wand in his hand, he gestured impatiently for the students to move faster. "I'm not too thrilled with you being in this meeting without the Headmaster, Potter, but he was insistent you should be there. And the Minister moved the time at the last minute, I'm sure to keep you both out of it. Now come on!"

"Hang on," Harry said in confusion as he helped lift Crabbe up the stairs. "What meeting?"

Auror Shacklebolt seemed disinclined to answer, but before Harry could press the point, Professor McGonagall, Tonks, and a handful of Aurors joined them on the landing outside the main castle doors. Instead he pointed his wand toward the distant gates to Hogwarts. "Auror Tonks, take two men and make sure the Headmaster and the school's nurse make it safely inside the wards. And Tonks? Hurry."

The bubbly Auror was unusually subdued as she and a pair of officers headed off at a distance-consuming jog.

"I assume I was summoned to escort my students to the Hospital Wing, then?" From her tone and the sour look she shot the imposing Auror, Harry could tell that she was very pointedly not saying that he needn't have summoned her.

"If you don't mind, Minerva, I need to get Potter up to the Headmaster's Office." Shacklebolt swept Harry forward with a hand on his shoulder.

The Deputy Headmistress blinked in surprise. "Kingsley! Surely it can wait until the Headmaster gets here?"

"No, it can't. Minister Weasley's started already."

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned still further, but she turned to Harry and stepped in close. "Mister Potter, the phrase you must use is 'I speak with the full faith and confidence of the Supreme Mugwump Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore as his Legate.' Remember this, you must introduce yourself as his Legate! Now, follow Kingsley, Harry."

Kingsley winced. "Is that wise, Minerva?"

"If you need Mister Potter in that meeting and you cannot wait even minutes, it remains the only way." Professor McGonagall drew herself up stiffly. "Unless you can delay the Minister, Kingsley."

"Right. Let's go Potter." Shacklebolt propelled Harry ahead of him at a dead run, and over the echoes of their shoes on the flagstones, Harry distinctly heard Kingsley mutter. "And Merlin help the Wizarding world."

They only slowed down to catch their breath on the moving staircase sweeping them up toward Dumbledore's office. Harry finally braced the imposing Auror, as both of them panted to catch their breath. "Okay, what's all this about? A meeting with the Minister? I don't think he likes me very much, and I don't really want to talk to him either."

"Not a meeting with the Minister, Potter, though he'll be there." Kingsley used his wand to clean Harry up and and Transfigure his school sweater into a charcoal jacket with an unfamiliar crest on its chest. "The Headmaster's been trying to bring the Internationals in to help us with the Death Eaters. Minister Weasley is trying to keep them out, and he managed to move the meeting times up in order to block Dumbledore from attending. I've no idea how the old man got the Express here in time."

"Long story," Harry muttered. "So you want me to meet with these... Internationals. Like, Amabssadors?"

Kingsley made a futile effort to tidy Harry's black mop of hair. "I want to execute Dumbledore's orders to negotiate for international aid. That means getting you in there, to draw them into this fight."

"I have no idea what to do." Harry looked up wide eyed at Kingsley as the stairs deposited them in front of the Headmaster's doorway.

"The Minister's already driven away the French, Spanish, and Italian delegations. After talking to him for an hour, they all want to quarantine the Isles and be done with it. Just try to get help from whoever we can still meet with. Buy time for Dumbledore to get here. Don't promise anyone anything. And don't antagonize Weasley any more than you have to."

With that the senior Auror opened the door and thrust Harry into the office. For the first time in his life, Harry had to work to keep from stumbling as he entered the Headmaster's antechamber.

Harry's abrupt arrival didn't seem to draw the slightest bit of attention from the various wizards in the room. Minister Weasley stood with his back to the door, deep in close conversation with three other men, obviously from foreign ministries. A further two wizards, very nearly dressed as Muggles, sat in the Headmaster's squashy armchairs and pretended not to care about the negotiations that they weren't involved in. Harry shook his head, and focused on trying to figure out who was who.

Percy was easily spotted, with his bright red hair and lime green robes. Between his thin frame and the voluminous robes, he looked rather like a boy playing dress-up with his father's clothes. The wizard talking to him had a heavy accent that reminded Harry of Karkaroff and Krum, but sounded somehow polished with his boisterously rolled R's and vowels that sounded equally rounded. The well-kempt fringe that was left of his hair just brushed the heavy epaulets surmounting his beribboned purple robes with dignity, and he had a wide and genuine smile that never reached his eyes. Alongside him were two asian wizards. The nearer wore a long straight scarlet robe liberally emblazoned with embroidered decorations and a tall black hat the likes of which Harry had never seen. On the opposite side of the talkative wizard in purple was the other delegate from Asia, wearing some kind of loose white robe that split into wide pant legs below a wide fabric belt.

All told, Harry felt detached from everything around him. He was far too tired, and wanted to sit somewhere quiet and come to grips with the bloody aftermath of the attack on the train. He still wanted to think a little more about the shock of his arrival at Diagon Alley. Instead, he was in this smoothly polished room, surrounded by well dressed Ambassadors drinking tea and talking in the soft light of the great stained glass windows high overhead. The screeching steel and scalding steam were a million miles away, as was the abrupt violence of the day. This quiet meeting was surreal.

Dazedly, he shook his head. Not wanting to interrupt the ongoing conversation, Harry gathered what dignity he could and approached the two seated wizards. The nearer of them was painfully thin, and even seated he was nearly as tall as Harry. He could see bright pink skin through his short, thinning white hair, and he sat awkwardly in his night black three-button suit with one ankle on his knee and a cup of tea forgotten in his hand. Incongruously, Harry noticed an expanse of white athletic sock between the hem of his pants and his patent leather loafers. The only visible sign that he had not gotten lost on his way to Fleet Street was his lapel pin in the shape of a unicursal hexagram with the astrological symbol for Mercury at its center. The other wizard filled his neat grey blazer with too much muscle to be described as 'heavy-set,' but something about his wide brown face gave Harry that impression nonetheless. He sat flat-footed in his armchair, thick black hair falling down his chest far enough to almost conceal the turquoise and leather bolo he wore in lieu of a tie. Although everyone else continued to ignore him, this wizard favored Harry with an open smile as he approached their chairs.

The tall thin wizard covered his teacup with a long-fingered hand as Harry reached them. "Thank you, I'm fine."

Harry nearly stumbled at this. "Excuse me?"

The wizard with the open smile and wide face turned to the his taller companion at this. "Richard," he chuckled, "the young man isn't here to get you something to drink."

The older gentleman, Richard apparently, blinked at this and turned to give Harry a thorough looking over. "I suppose not. Terribly sorry, I just didn't think anyone was going to talk to us who wasn't some kind of enslaved sentient being or other. So you're a bit of a surprise, Mister... er, come to think of it, who are you?"

"Potter, sir. Harry Potter." Harry thrust his hand out, and had the singular experience of introducing himself to someone who didn't once examine his scar or startle at his name.

"Richard Feynman." Harry found the thin wizard had quickly discarded his teacup and was now fully focused on him. "So let's see if we can't sort you out, hmm? You're too young to represent one of the Ministries, and you wouldn't ignore Il Duce Weasley if you worked for him. You aren't two feet tall, wrapped in a towel and enslaved, so you can't work here. You don't know enough to avoid talking to Mister Tso and I, so you aren't some diplomatic savant come to save us all. So that leaves 'terrible mistake' and 'Albus Dumbledore' as the two reasons for you to be here. How'd I do?"

"A bit of both, sir." Harry shifted a bit from foot to foot. "I'm supposed to say something, actually. I, uh, I'm here with the confidence of-"

The thin Wizard, Feynman, leaned forward at this, smiling. "Would that be 'full faith and confidence' by any chance?"

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded abruptly, trying to remember what he had to say. "Of the Supreme Mugwump Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore as his... er, something."

Feynman smiled. "My guess would be Legate. Am I close?"

"Yes, thank you!" Harry didn't know if he'd have remembered on his own.

"You have to use the whole formulation for it to count." Feynman smiled slightly.

"Oh!" Harry cleared his throat, and tried again. "I speak with the full faith and confidence of the Supreme Mugwump Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore as his Legate. Was that right?"

"Absolutely!" Feynman's slight smile broke into a wide grin.

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. "It's been a long day."

"I'm afraid it's going to get longer, son." Feynman leaned sideways in his seat to look around Harry's shoulder. "Mister Weasley! The duly recognized representative of both the British Wizengamot and the ICW is here!"

The wide-faced wizard named Tso wasn't quite smiling anymore. He shook his head, and spoke softly to the other wizard. "Richard, I think this is someone else's problem. I don't think we want to invite the crows into our fields."

But his warning was late coming, and the cluster of standing wizards ceased talking and turned to glare at Harry and the two older gentlemen.

"What?" Percy turned, scowling. "Harry Potter is no such thing! He's just a student at Hogwarts."

"He's also announced himself as Legate." The wizard Feynman leaned back in his chair. "Have fun with your archaic laws. Let me know how it works out."

"What?" Percy repeated himself, looking paler than usual. The wizard in the crimson robe cast an unobtrusive spell with a jade wand, and held it up to show a golden glow upon the tip. Percy stared at the wand, gobsmacked. "What?"

The wizard in the crimson robes tucked his wand into one wide sleeve and pulled himself even more painfully upright. "The extension of an underling into the polite discussions of learned men can be seen as an insult to the stations of those present."

"I couldn't agree more," responded Feynman pleasantly. "Oh, say, aren't you all just a bunch of ambassadors? I mean, except for Percy Weasley, who's an actual Minister. So I guess you all insulted him first, right?"

The wizard in crimson continued. "A child has been presented, in affront to the dignity of the Forbidden Ministry, as a peer."

"Excuse me," the wizard Tso said as he inclined his head politely. "From what I hear, Harry here has faced his enemies in combat. Giving justice to murderers isn't the act of a child, is it?"

The wizard in crimson sneered down at the affable Tso before turning slightly to stare fixedly at the wall opposite. "Those without lands and proper civilized ministries have no place here. Their words have no meaning."

Tso laughed. "Richard and I sure don't belong here. But I'm pretty sure our words still have meaning."

The wizard in crimson bristled still further, visible only as delicate tremors in his long, thin beard. But the balding wizard in purple laughed brightly and clasped him on the shoulder. "Now, Meester Fan, there ees no reason to take such... umbrage to our new friend Meester Potter, eh!"

He swept forward, and wrapped a brotherly arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in tight to the cluster of heavily jeweled medals encrusting his barrel chest. "Harry- I can call you Harry, yes? Yes! Good! Now Harry, my name is Ambassador Volaire, but I eensist you call me Lorry, yes?"

"Lorry? Harry smiled back at Lorry Volaire from an uncomfortably short distance. "Like the car?"

Volaire grinned wide enough to show off his canines. "Yes, just like the cahr. Amusing! You know, you are the feerst person here in Britannia to theenk of that one. Now, on to business, eh?

"You are here to speak for the estimable Albus Dumbledore, and like heem, you want international aid to combat thees scourge that is Voldemort. Pah! In my country, I have no doubt someone would have drown thees Voldemort in a sack at a tender age. Of course, Englad is cursed weeth a shortage of good deep rivers. You must come, once the unpleasantness here is over, and see the Volga. Eet is magnificent."

Harry blinked a bit more at the smoothly jovial tone in which all this was delivered, but Volaire continued unabated as he steered Harry over toward the other standing wizards. "Now, your own Minister Weasley wants our help as well, and in what must be a singular event in politics, it just so happens my own government wants the very same thing. Eet is a good day's work when everything lines up just so, allowing us all to sign far too many copies of parchments covered in very pretty ribbons and seals. Eet is marvelous when thees can happen early enough in the day to let us go forth and rack up truly monumental bar tabs before the sun has even set! All that is left is to arrange the petty details and we may commence drinking. Please, Merlin forfend, please tell me you are of age to become drunk. It does not do to suffer through negotiations only to have sobriety waiting up for you at home."

"But now the duly recognized representative of the ICW is here!" Volaire squeezed Harry on both shoulders before spinning him to face the others. "What do you say Minister, my good Ambassadors? Shall we move quickly to render aid to our good friends the British?"

Harry looked around at the other wizards in the room. Percy was nodding in agreement with the crimson-robed Fan, Volaire was still smiling toothily, and the ambassador in the white robe looked somber. Harry tried to throw a quick glance over his shoulder at Tso and Feynman, but Volaire's firm grip kept him pinned facing away from the other two. That decided him.

Harry pulled himself firmly away from the balding ambassador in the rich purple robes. "I think I would like to know what those 'petty details' are, Ambassador," he said softly .

"Pah," Volaire responded with a complicated simultaneous shrug, wince and wave."Eeet is civil rights, worrying about what happens after thees Voldemort is arrested. Eet is not in the least interesting or pressing."

Harry's green eyes narrowed. "If it's not pressing, then why bring it up now? Why not just loan us Aurors to help fight the Death Eaters?"

Volaire tapped Harry in the chest. "Thees! Thees is why we must seek compact now! Before we involve ourselves militarily, not afterwards, when we must rely upon the British Ministry to be reasonable in dealing with thees cult. We offer aid in stopping thees madman, thees Voldemort! We do not wish to aid your government in its pogrom targeting innocent Purebloods."

"What?" Harry looked confusedly between Volaire and Percy. "What are you talking about?"

"Thees so called 'Death Eaters!' You toss thees words about, and want us to help you kill thees, thees victims without a care in the world!"

"You're mad!" Harry's eyes hardened, his voice rising. "The Death Eaters are the victims?

"Yes, victims!" Now Volaire snarled at Harry. "Victims of marginalization in a society that no longer values the old ways they grew up in. Victims of a deranged cult leader who preys upon them, uses them for their money and connections and then lets them die horribly. Victims of self-righteous crusaders, like you, Meester Potter."

At Harry's wide eyed stare, Volaire continued. "Yees, Meester Potter, I know all about you. Like thees Voldemort, you've drawn otherwise deecent witches and wizards into suicidal violence."

Harry flushed, and rammed an angry finger into Lorry Volaire's chest of medals. "Now wait just a minute you-"

"I haven't a minute to spare!" Volaire turned slightly as he spoke, the better to address the other ambassadors as he argued with Harry. "You've broken into sealed Ministry offices. You've led students- Students! Students into a war against your own Aurors! You've broken into a Pureblood's ancestral home and butchered nearly everyone there you could lay a wand upon!"

"What!" Muscles Harry hadn't realized he'd had before bunched and jumped along his jaw as he refrained from laying Volaire out like Dudley in a Golden Gloves match. Instead he ground the words out as evenly and politely as he could manage. ""That was a trap intended to kill me, and those 'innocent Purebloods' you care so much about were murderers and torturers."

"Perhaps," Volaire replied with an exaggerated shrug and theatrically perplexed expression. "Of course, the Aurors couldn't investigate these claims, since you'd keelled the witnesses and burned the building to the ground! It's a shame you didn't call the Aurors, Meester Potter."

"With Percy here suspending every law he can get his hand on? Sending soldiers into a school, using Unforgivables against students?" Harry held his ground. "Not likely I'd call on him or his men!"

Volaire smiled as though he'd met Father Christmas himself, and turned from Harry to address the other ambassadors directly. "And there you have it, gentlemen. Meester Dumbledore's proxy has as good as admitted he is at war with the British Ministry itself.

Thees man, thees Potter, has been brought in chains before the Wizengamot! And yet here he stands, a free man, spouting sedition. What we have here is not a Dark Wizard, or even a secret Dark society. What we have is no less than a civil war! A war with three equally mad sides, and thees reesks exposing the Magical world, breaking the Secrecy Statute and destroying everything! Gentlemen, on behalf of my Ministry, I demand the International Confederation of Warlocks convene! Immedeately!"

Volaire's smile returned full force. "We must move quickly to revoke the British Ministry's charter, and place thees dreadful situation under International control. We do not need Aurors, we need peacekeepers."

* * *

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