Harry Potter & The Power Of Gryffindor

J R Potter

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 20/05/2007
Last Updated: 29/05/2007
Status: paused

Harry's back at Privet Drive after the traumatic ending to his fifth year, wondering if he will ever feel happiness again. Little does he know what's in store for the year ahead. Not a great summary I know. I’ll try and come up with something more creative at a later date. This is a repost of my original story “The Second War."

Chapters

1. Chapter One: O.W.L Results & Letters

2. Chapter Two: Revelations & Answers

3. Chapter Three: Confrontation With The Potions Master

4. Chapter Four: Hermione's Many Conversations

1. Chapter One: O.W.L Results & Letters

Hi there. I’m trying once again to write my fan fic which I started working nearly four years ago, about a month after OOTP was released. Yes, it has been a long time in the making. See the A/N after the chapter for more.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Harry Potter & The Power Of Gryffindor: Chapter One – O.W.L Results & Letters

The drought that had plagued the country the previous year had all but passed. “Oh well, this makes up for last year!” was the general lame one-liner that most weathermen were saying. But they did have a point as England was well on track to record their wettest summer on record. Not that Harry Potter had noticed, or cared for that matter.

Right now, it was 6:30 at night and Harry was where he had spent most of his time since coming home from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the summer holidays: in his bedroom at number four Privet Drive with only his snowy owl Hedwig for company. The Dursleys had gone out into town for dinner but this didn't bother Harry at all. It meant that the house was quiet and that's what he liked at the moment.

Harry had only left his room when he really needed to. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and to use the bathroom. That was about it. He had hardly spoken a word to the Dursleys and he had pretty much ignored them. The Dursleys however, knew better than to shout at him, because they knew Harry would let members of the Order of the Phoenix know that he wasn't being treated well. Harry hadn't forgotten the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face when Mad-Eye Moody had showed him his magical eye.

Harry was sitting at his desk with his Transfiguration books open while writing away on a piece of parchment. He had been working on it all day. He was on his last piece of holiday homework and he had only been away from Hogwarts for just over two weeks. He had found that busying himself with his homework temporarily helped him to take his mind off other, more disturbing thoughts. Harry however, had just finished the Transfiguration essay, and he tried very hard to stop his mind from wondering.

He didn't want to have to relive memories of last year during the day. It was bad enough that he was having almost sleepless nights. Almost every night, horrible memories of that night in the Department of Mysteries filled his dreams: the moment that they were surrounded by Death Eaters, Neville being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, Ginny with her broken ankle, Ron fighting with the brain as it wrapped around him and Luna flying across the room. But two moments in particular stood out painfully. Dolohov striking down Hermione with his wordless curse, and Sirius disappearing beyond the veil with a look of shock on his face.

Just the thought of Sirius’ name brought Harry terrible sadness and overwhelming guilt. Harry still blamed himself. It didn't matter to him that Dumbledore said that it was mostly his fault. Dumbledore hadn't seen Voldemort's mind trick in his head, he hadn't seen Sirius supposedly being tortured. It had felt and looked real, but Harry had fallen for the trap just as Voldemort hoped he would and he had almost got himself and his friends killed. And Sirius had died.

Harry got up from his desk, shook his head roughly as though he was trying to clear it of thoughts, walked over to the window and looked out over the street.

Aside from the fact it was pouring with rain, Privet Drive looked exactly like the suburban street it usually did. Through the rain, Harry recognised Mrs Figg walking under an umbrella carrying a shopping bag. Probably full of cat food Harry thought. He had only talked to Mrs Figg once since he came back. She had again apologised for not telling him the truth about herself and the reason she gave was one that Harry was heartily sick of hearing: because Dumbledore said so.

Harry wasn't quite sure what he would do if he saw Dumbledore at this very moment. One part of him wanted to listen to what he would say, while the other part wanted to keep on yelling at him. His mind travelled back to their meeting in Dumbledore's office. He had talked about his scar, why Voldemort tried to kill him and why he had to go back to Privet Drive every summer. Even though he now understood why he had to go back to Privet Drive each summer, it didn't make him feel any better for it.

The words of the prophecy continually passed through Harry's mind. Just one reminder of the difficult times that are ahead he thought dully.

Harry left the window and sat down on his bed. He didn't know how much longer he would be at Privet Drive. He had completely thrown himself into his studies to keep himself busy. But he was more or less finished and there was still six weeks of the summer holidays left. He thought about what his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were doing now.

Ron sounded as though he was keeping himself busy enough helping out Fred and George with Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, which by all reports, was doing very well. Hermione of course, would be just as busy as Harry was with holiday homework.

Harry wasn't quite sure why, but lately just at the thought of Hermione’s name his stomach gave some sort of a funny jolt. It had been going on ever since that night at the Ministry. When Dolohov struck down Hermione, Harry froze. He couldn’t think of another word to describe it. For those few horrible seconds, he was unable to act at all, temporarily paralysed until Neville informed that Hermione had a pulse. He had never been more relieved in his life when Neville said those words.

Both of them were still at home with their families and as such, they didn't have any news on what members of the Order were doing, especially Hermione, whose parents were Muggles. You thought it was hard getting information out of Mum before, you should try it now Ron had written the previous week. At least this time, Harry knew that they were both really trying to tell him information. They were all keeping in frequent contact, although Harry had noticed that Ron had not written for about a week. Harry was still getting the Daily Prophet delivered, but all that was in it different methods of defending yourselves against Death Eaters and dark creatures. Not that most of the advice they were giving out wasn’t common knowledge. Don’t leave your house alone. Avoid travelling at night if possible. Just to name a few. Harry only glossed over the paper anyway, as his respect levels for the Daily Prophet were still very low after everything that was written about him over the last year.

Looking back on his behaviour over the last year, Harry felt slightly ashamed. During the last year alone, he had shouted more than he had for the first fourteen years of his life. He had a lot of pent up anger from everything that was being said and written about him and his friends, Hermione in particular, had coped the brunt of it. Throughout last year, Hermione had tried to be the voice of reason, but Harry wasn't a good person to try and reason with last year. Harry remembered back to his argument with Hermione whether or not Sirius was really being tortured. He was so infuriated that he had almost hit her. He was still horrified, that the thought of hitting Hermione, the one person who had always been there for him, had crossed his mind. Not that you’ve ever told her that, or thanked her he thought miserably.

Harry tried to shake all the negative thoughts out of his head again and tried to focus on something happy. This wasn't easy because there had hardly been a happy moment for him lately. There was one thing however, that had given Harry lots of satisfaction during school last year: Dumbledore's Army.

At the time that she suggested it, Harry thought it was another one of Hermione's wild ideas such as S.P.E.W. But after taking it under consideration, Harry took Ron, Hermione and twenty-five other students under his wing and taught them a wide variety of defence spells. But even that had ended on a sour note, after Cho Chang's friend Marietta Edgecombe sold them out to Professor Umbridge. Under the then Hogwarts High Inquisitor's rules, they would have all been expelled if Dumbledore hadn't taken the fall for them.

Harry looked at his alarm clock on his bedside table. It was now ten o'clock. Suddenly over come by tiredness, Harry fell onto his bed without bothering to change and fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry awoke next morning to find that the house was again empty except for himself and Hedwig. He hadn't gotten a lot of sleep because of his nightmares, but he knew he would never be able to get back to sleep now that the sun was up. He got up, took a shower, got dressed and went downstairs, where he found the same note that was left for him whenever the Dursleys went out.

Gone out. Back later. Only eat what's been left for you. And don't touch anything else.

Usually whenever they went out, the Dursleys would send Harry to Mrs Figg's or else lock him in his bedroom, seeing that they knew that Harry wasn't allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts. But because of the Order's warning, they didn't do this anymore.

Harry looked at the food that had been left out for him: four slices of bread and butter. ‘I think I'll pass’, he muttered to himself. He trudged back upstairs but before he could collapse back onto the bed, an owl that Harry didn't recognise was rapping on his window. Harry quickly opened the window where the owl flew in, dropped an envelope on his bed and promptly flew off again.

Harry suddenly realised what it was: his O.W.L results. He had completely forgotten about them. With his hands shaking slightly, he opened up the envelope and read:

Dear Mr Potter,

Your O.W.L examinations have been marked and here are your results.

Charms

Exceeds Expectations (O.W.L)

Transfiguration

Exceeds Expectations (O.W.L)

Herbology

Outstanding (O.W.L)

Defence Against the Dark Arts

Outstanding* (O.W.L)

Potions

Exceeds Expectations (O.W.L)

Care of Magical Creatures

Outstanding (O.W.L)

Astronomy

Acceptable (O.W.L)

Divination

Poor

History of Magic

Poor

Overall Results

Outstanding: Three

Exceeds Expectations: Three

Acceptable: One

Poor: Two

Dreadful: None

Troll: None

Total O.W.Ls: Seven

(* Denotes Extra Credit)

Congratulations on your results

Griselda Marchbanks

Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority

Harry wasn't surprised to see that he had failed Divination. As for History of Magic, no don’t go there… he thought fiercely. The Outstanding Defence Against the Dark Arts grade gave him immense satisfaction. He was also happy with Charms and Transfiguration, but at the same time, a little disappointed. With just a little more hard work, the ‘E’s’ could have been ‘O’s’. As Harry feared however, Potions looked as though it was his downfall for a career as an Auror. ‘E’ for Potions, while very good by Harry's standards, wasn't good enough, as Snape only took students into his N.E.W.T class who scored an ‘O’ at O.W.L level. Overall though, he was fairly happy with his results.

Another owl suddenly swooped into the room, dropped another envelope on Harry's bed and promptly flew out again.

Picking up the very thick envelope, Harry recognised the Hogwarts crest on the back. He opened the envelope and read:

Dear Mr Potter,

Firstly, the new school term will start on September the first as per normal. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock.

Secondly, I would like to congratulate you on your O.W.L results. Considering all the events that took place leading up to the examinations, you exceeded many people's expectations, including mine. With your results in mind, you have been recommended to continue with all of your subjects at N.E.W.T level, except Divination. And before you begin to wonder, Professor Snape has agreed to accept you into his N.E.W.T Potions class if you wish to undertake the subject. Make your subject choices carefully, as you will be undertaking these subjects for your last two years at Hogwarts. Please send back your subject choices in the supplied envelope no later than July 31. Booklists for your chosen subjects will be sent out to you when your subject choices have been returned.

Thirdly, with the removal (Thank Merlin) of Professor Umbridge as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Hogwarts High Inquisitor, all Educational Decrees passed by her and Cornelius Fudge have been abolished. Your lifetime ban from Quidditch has also been lifted. Your Firebolt will be returned to you at a later date. I would also like to take this opportunity to offer you the captaincy of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Please take time to consider this offer before letting me know.

And finally, you may know this already, but Ronald Weasley has given up his status as a Prefect. After consulting Professor Dumbledore, we have decided that you will be the new Gryffindor Prefect. Your Prefect badge has been enclosed. I am sure Miss Granger will let you know of your duties and responsibilities as a Prefect.

I wish you all the best for the upcoming year.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry had to re-read the letter, as it was full with more shocking information.

Why had Snape accepted Harry into N.E.W.T Potions? Perhaps Dumbledore or McGonagall had bullied him into it. Great Harry thought. If that's the case, Snape is going to be hell this year. Maybe he's just doing it to keep giving me a hard time. Just thinking about Snape was making Harry's blood boil. The two weeks at Privet Drive had done nothing to quell the bitterness Harry harboured towards Snape for his treatment of Sirius.

Pushing all thoughts of Snape out of his head, Harry looked back at the letter. The news of his re-instatement to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team wasn't a surprise, but the offer of the captaincy from McGonagall certainly was. Sure he knew a lot of different tactics, but not the fundamentals of each move. That was one of the good things about being a Seeker. Just stay out of the way of everyone else, the bludgers and grab the Snitch before the other Seeker. He decided to do as McGonagall suggested, and think about it.

The biggest shock of the whole letter however was in the last paragraph. Prefect? What the hell? Harry couldn't understand why Ron would give something like that up. Although he had never openly said it, Ron had always wanted something like that to help his own cause of attempting to outshine his older brothers. Reaching back into the envelope, Harry pulled out a shiny badge with a large ‘P’ superimposed on the Gryffindor lion.

Harry shook his head, and resolved himself to asking Ron about it as soon as he could.

Before Harry could think anymore however, another owl flew into the room; this one delivering the Daily Prophet. Harry put three Knuts in the owl's small pouch, and the owl flew off.

Harry unrolled the paper and glanced at the front page. His eyes went wide at the headline.

DEATH EATERS ESCAPE AZKABAN, SIX AURORS DEAD

The Ministry of Magic confirmed last night that six Aurors were killed in a breakout at Azkaban prison, in which all of the Death Eaters that were captured at the Department of Mysteries back in June escaped and have again realigned themselves with You-Know-Who. This is a severe blow to the Ministry, which is still under fire for the way they handled You-Know-Who's return.

Many people believe that this was inevitable, as the Dementors no longer guard Azkaban, having defected to the Dark Lord. Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge has warned the Wizarding public to be extra vigilant, but not to try anything rash if any of these people are spotted, as they are extremely dangerous.

Although details are rather sketchy, it is believed that one or two Death Eaters stormed the fortress with a group of Dementors. The six Aurors were all given the Dementor's Kiss trying to keep the prisoners at bay. We hope to have more details on this very soon.

That was all that was written about it. The rest of the page showed a big picture of the Azkaban fortress, with the Dark Mark hovering high above it. Harry put the paper down on his bed, sat down and thought.

He had been expecting this to happen. With no Dementors at Azkaban, the chances of escaping from Azkaban were greatly improved. Harry sighed and shook his head in frustration. Fudge has no one to blame for this but himself he thought bitterly. Harry felt terribly sorry for the families of the six Aurors. Dumbledore had warned Fudge that the Dementors would defect to Voldemort, but Fudge did nothing but deny that Voldemort had even returned in the first place.

Reaching into his trunk, Harry pulled out Flying with the Cannons and started to read, trying to take his mind off the breakout. It seemed to work as well as it was well past one o'clock before he was disturbed by the arrival of yet another owl, but Harry recognised this one. It was Pigwidgeon.

It was difficult work, but Harry finally managed to pluck Pig out of the air. He was slightly surprised that Pig took off back out the window the moment he relieved him of the letter. Harry shrugged and figured that he would just send a reply with Hedwig. He was curious with what Ron had to say.

Dear Harry,

I know it has been a week since I wrote last, and I'm sorry about that. Something happened four days ago, and I just wasn't really sure how to tell you. Should I wait till I see you, or should I just tell you in a letter? But since we got our O.W.L results and Hogwarts letters today, I'm guessing you already know what I'm about to say.

Why did I give up my Prefect status? Well to tell you the truth, I gave it up for two reasons. One, before Professor McGonagall got the chance to take it away from me. Two, I don't think I deserved it in the first place. Let me explain what happened.

As you know, I've been at Diagon Alley for most the holidays helping out Fred and George with the shop. It's been going great. It was great four days ago as well until three o'clock that afternoon. Malfoy came into the shop and started saying all the usual crap that he does. The whole time he had this weird looking smile on his face. Looking back, I think it had to be a knowing smile. If you ask me, I reckon he knew that his Dad was about to be broken out of Azkaban.

Anyhow, Fred and George managed to get him out fairly quickly (them being able to use magic helped there), and I followed him out to make sure that he actually left. It looked like that he was going as well, but he suddenly stopped and turned to face me. With that same smile on his face, he said “Next time you see Potter, tell him Black got what he deserved.”

Before I even knew it myself, Malfoy was lying on the ground with blood pouring out of his nose. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall happened to be right behind me and to say the very least, she wasn't happy. Furious would probably be the better word. Making matters even worse was the fact that there was a school governor across the other side of the street. McGonagall began admonishing me and Malfoy took his chance and ran off like the coward that he is.

McGonagall, the school governor and I sat down in a back room of the shop and I was asked to explain what happened. With the school governor there, I couldn't say anything about Sirius. So I said that Malfoy had insulted me and my family. Needless to say, that certainly wasn't an adequate enough reason. It was made worse by the school governor saying that as a Hogwarts Prefect, my actions were disgraceful. He recommended that I have my Prefect status removed. Being Head of Gryffindor House, it was up to McGonagall.

But I had been thinking ever since we came home, 'Do I really want this?' You probably know this already, but I'm saying it for the first time. I had always wanted something like this to separate myself from my brothers. Last year's school work was hard enough, but throwing Prefect duties into the mix, well you know how behind I was in my homework for most of the year. And to be honest, I really wasn't enjoying it. I feel that you deserved it a hell of a lot more than I ever did.

So here they were talking about taking it away form me and I decided 'If I'm going to lose it, I'm going to lose it on my terms.' So I got up and said “Professor McGonagall, first of all, I want to apologise. No matter what Draco Malfoy said to me, my actions were unacceptable.” Before she could respond to that, I went on. “Secondly, I regret to inform you that as of this very moment, I am relinquishing my Prefect status. My actions were a very poor example for everyone who saw what happened. (And there were a lot.) I also think that I did not deserve it in the first place, and I think you know who did Professor.” McGonagall was very surprised, but after making sure with me if that is what I wanted, she agreed. She wouldn't tell me who would take over from me, but as far as I'm concerned mate, if its not you, something is seriously wrong.

Anyway I better get going. Shop is fairly busy at the moment. Take care mate. Hope to see you soon.

Ron

Harry couldn't believe what he had just read. He felt incredible anger towards Malfoy. How did he know? How? And Ron! Harry couldn't believe that Ron had written all of that out. He had basically endorsed Harry to take over as a Prefect.

He was still trying to absorb everything, when there was a knock on the front door.

Taking no chances, Harry grabbed his wand and made his cautiously to the front door. He slowly opened the door, and let out a gasp of surprise.

Professor Dumbledore was standing on the doorstep.

A/N: If you remember reading the original, there are only very slight changes. It’s my hope that tinkering with this slightly will motivate me to keep going. The first four chapters are done and I’m working on the fifth now. Chapters 2-4 will be up after I’ve tinkered those to my satisfaction.

Until then, PLEASE tell me what you think, even if you remember reading this the first time. Nothing satisfies an author more than reviews. Cheers.

J R Potter

2. Chapter Two: Revelations & Answers

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

The Second War: Chapter Two – Revelations & Answers

Time seemed to stand still. It was probably only ten seconds, but to Harry, he felt like he was staring at Dumbledore for at least five minutes. He finally managed to find his voice.

“Professor Dumbledore?”

“Good afternoon Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “May I come in?”

“Um, sure,” Harry replied, still in shock and thinking that it was probably not a good idea to leave Dumbledore out in the rain, which was still coming down hard.

Harry showed Dumbledore into the living room. First, O.W.L results, Snape lets me into N.E.W.T Potions, McGonagall offers me the Quidditch captaincy, Ron's letter and now Dumbledore's here at Privet Drive Harry thought. What next?

“Harry?” Dumbledore’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “The Dursleys not home?”

“No, they went out. I don't know where though. Did you want to talk to them?”

“No, no I wanted to talk to you,” Dumbledore said. Harry was starting to feel uncomfortable. Not only were memories of his blow up at Dumbledore ever present in his mind, but this was the first time he had ever spoken to Dumbledore outside of Hogwarts. He was the host this time. He awkwardly motioned for Dumbledore to sit down. Dumbledore gave a small nod and sat down on the couch. Harry himself sat down in the armchair opposite Dumbledore. Another period of silence followed until Harry broke the silence.

“So, why are you here?” he asked tentatively.

Dumbledore hesitated and although he appeared calm, his eyes gave away his nervousness. There was no sign of the usual twinkle that was there. Finally he spoke.

“Harry,” he began, and Harry could definitely make out the nervousness in his voice. “There is no easy way for me to say this so I’m just going to say it.” Harry sat there looking at Dumbledore with his mind racing.

“There is a more specific reason why Voldemort went after you instead of Neville.”

Harry's face showed no emotion to this piece of news, but when he spoke, his emotion definitely showed.

“Oh really?” he said in a sarcastic relaxed tone. “And uh…when were you planning on telling me this?”

The look in Dumbledore’s eyes was now almost pleading. “Believe me Harry, I wanted to tell you that morning in my office, but after everything that happened and everything that I had already said, I couldn't bring myself to.”

Harry just continued to stare at Dumbledore. “Well, what was the reason?” he asked rather harshly, not feeling sorry at all.

Dumbledore took a steading breath, and began. “You know of course, that Voldemort is the Heir of Salazar Slytherin.”

Harry gave Dumbledore an exasperated look. Dumbledore got the point and went on. “Has it ever occurred to you that the other three co-founders of Hogwarts have Heirs as well?”

“Can't say it has,” said Harry dismissively. “What does this have to do with me?”

“What a lot of people don't know,” said Dumbledore, partly ignoring Harry’s question, “is that Cassandra Vablatsky made a prophecy about the Heirs of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in 1950.”

“What was the prophecy about?” Harry asked, still wondering what this had to do with him.

“It prophesised the rise of the Heir of Slytherin, and the discord that he would spread. It was said that with the combined forces of the Heirs of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, they might be able to stop him.”

“Well that obviously didn't happen so what happened?” Harry asked.

“Voldemort found out about the prophecy,” said Dumbledore sadly. “He investigated deeply and traced the family's whose bloodlines were connected to the other Heirs down. He had every family member killed. He wanted to make sure that he destroyed the bloodlines completely.”

“So that meant the prophecy was useless after Voldemort destroyed the first bloodline right?”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Hufflepuff’s bloodline was destroyed in 1971.”

“But he went after Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's bloodlines didn't he?” Harry asked, already guessing the answer.

“Yes, Voldemort wanted to eliminate all possible threats to his power. Ravenclaw’s bloodline was destroyed in 1977.”

“All right, that’s enough!” Harry interrupted. He rose abruptly from his armchair and paced around the living room. Dumbledore gave Harry a confused look.

“Is there any point to all of this?” he asked angrily. “All you're going to tell me is when Voldemort destroyed Gryffindor's bloodline. You haven't answered my question! What has this got to do with Voldemort going after me instead of Neville?”

Dumbledore hesitated again.

“What!?” Harry asked again.

Dumbledore finally answered. “Gryffindor's bloodline wasn't destroyed,” he said quietly.

Harry, slightly taken aback by this answer stopped his pacing by the fireplace. “It wasn’t? Why not?”

Dumbledore didn't answer. Harry tried again. “Did he try to kill me before he got the chance to?”

“Not exactly,” said Dumbledore quietly.

“Then WHAT!?” Harry shouted in exasperation.

It looked like what Dumbledore was about to say was costing him a lot of effort.

“Harry, you are the last of that bloodline.”

Whatever anger was left in Harry all but vanished with that sentence. Anger was replaced with absolute shock. He was speechless. He was stunned beyond all recognition.

Dumbledore went on. “Gryffindor's bloodline has been running through your father's side of the family for centuries. But by Halloween 1981, only two people remained: yourself and your father. Voldemort showed up in Godric's Hollow that night with the intention of destroying the last of it, but thanks to your mother's sacrifice and the fact that Voldemort had not heard all of the prophecy that Sybill Trelawney made, he was not successful. It is this reason why Voldemort went after you instead of Mr. Longbottom.”

Still in shock, Harry walked over to the living room window. The rain was still coming down hard, but Harry wasn't seeing anything. His mind was lost. Finally, after staring out the window for a few minutes, he turned to face Dumbledore.

“So…so that means…?”

“It means Harry,” said Dumbledore “that you are the true Heir of Godric Gryffindor.”

Harry closed his eyes as his brain tried to absorb all the information that he had received that day.

“What does this mean?” he asked as he sat back down on the couch.

Dumbledore reached into his cloak and pulled out a small glass case. Placing it on the floor, he pulled out his wand. “Engorgio.”

The glass case blew to its full size. Inside the case, was the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

“As you are Gryffindor's Heir, this now belongs to you.” Harry just looked at the sword, which looked in immaculate condition.

“Part of me wanted to tell you this after you came out of the Chamber of Secrets, but…”

“…you thought I would be too young to take it,” Harry finished tonelessly, his mind still reeling.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I know that excuse must be wearing thin, but that is honestly how I felt at the time.”

There was a period of silence as both men just stared at the sword. “Pick up the sword Harry,” said Dumbledore suddenly.

“What?” Harry asked, startled.

“Pick it up,” Dumbledore repeated. “Trust me.”

Harry slowly leant forward, opened up the glass case and took up the sword. It had been over three years since he had held it, but it felt no different. His attention was drawn back to Dumbledore, who was once again reaching inside his cloak, and pulled out another wand.

“You have two wands sir?” Harry managed to ask.

Dumbledore shook his head. “No Harry. This is Godric Gyffindor's old wand.”

Before Harry could say anything in response, Dumbledore handed the wand over to Harry, who instinctively took it. As soon as he took hold of it, he almost dropped it. It was as though the power form the wand was travelling into him. It was as if a voice inside his head was telling him what to do. With the sword in his left hand and the wand in his right, he slowly brought the closer together until the tip of the wand touched the tip of the sword.

An invisible surge of power connected between the two, vibrating madly, and Harry desperately tried to drop them both, but it was like holding a portkey. He just couldn't let go.

“What's…happening?” he gasped, as the vibration grew even stronger.

Whether Dumbledore answered or not, Harry didn't know, because at that moment a dazzling scarlet and gold ball shot out of the end of Gryffindor's wand. It travelled all the way down the blade of the sword, causing the sword to alternate between glowing scarlet and gold. The ball then travelled back up to the tips of the sword and wand, and the last thing that Harry could remember before he passed out was the ball shooting out and hitting him in the chest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He woke to find himself lying on a bed in a gloomy high-ceilinged room. It looked awfully familiar. Looking around, his worst fears were confirmed when he saw the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus. He was at Grimmauld Place.

Harry slowly sat up and walked over to the one window in the room where he once again found it was raining. He rubbed his head, trying to remember what had happened, but all he could remember was the ball hitting him in the chest. Before he could think anymore though, the door opened and in walked Dumbledore.

“Professor Dumbledore, what happened to me?” Harry asked without preamble.

“Something that should have happened before now,” Dumbledore said as he sat down on the other bed. “How do you feel?”

“OK I guess. Just really hungry that's all.”

“I’m not surprised at that. You have been unconscious for two days.”

“I have? Why? What happened?” Harry asked.

“What do you remember?”

“The last thing I can remember was that ball hitting me in the chest,” said Harry. “What was that?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and began to explain. “Godric Gryffindor, along with the other co-founders of Hogwarts, was a powerful wizard Harry. In fact, no one for sure knows the full extent of his powers.”

He paused for a moment, then continued. “Right before he died, he transferred his powers out of himself and into his wand and sword, in the hope that one day, his true heir would be able to inherit them if need be.”

“So-so I have Gryffindor's power in me?” Harry asked. “You mean I can just do the stuff that he could do without having to learn it?”

“Yes, but as I said, no one knows the full extent of Gryffindor’s power. Not just his power either, but his abilities both magical and Muggle. Unfortunately, it’s anyone’s guess what these may be.”

“Well, what do we know?”

“Unfortunately, I am only sure of two things. Gryffindor's sword, if in the hands of the heir, will be able to deflect spells. So I guess you could say it is something like a lightsabre.”

Despite of his amazement of being able to deflect spells, Harry allowed himself small grin. “You’ve seen Star Wars sir?”

“Oh yes,” said Dumbledore. “I’ve seen quite a lot of Muggle films. Star Wars is one of my favourites.”

Harry nodded. “So did you say that the sword can reflect any spell?” Dumbledore nodded. “Even Avada Kedavra?” Harry asked.

“As to that, I do not know,” Dumbledore said. “It seems as though Gryffindor himself wasn't game enough to try and find out.”

“Can't say I blame him,” Harry muttered. “So what was the second thing?”

“It involves the sword as well. You can use it as a normal blade, or you can use it to knock people out.”

“You mean it won't hurt them at all?”

“Not as long as you think what you want the sword to do.”

“But what about the rest of his power?” Harry asked. “If no one knows, how am I supposed to know?”

“From what I have heard, they will come to you naturally,” Dumbledore said.

“How do you know all of this?”

“Your father's side of the family had looked after Gryffindor's wand and sword for generations. Because they knew that Voldemort was after them, Lily and James asked me to take care of them.”

“So Voldemort knows about this?”

“He knows that you are the heir, but I am fairly certain that he doesn't know that you know about your new-found power.”

Harry studied Dumbledore's face carefully. It appeared normal, but there was still the nervousness in his eyes. For a moment, he double-checked himself, but he asked the question that had been on his mind for the last few minutes.

“Look,” he started. “I can appreciate how difficult this was for you to tell me, but…why couldn't I have…known this earlier? Everything could be so much different.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Like I told you in my office, my only defence is that I wanted you to be happy. I cared about that too much to worry about what might happen to you if Voldemort returned.”

He went silent. Slowly, Harry stood up and slowly paced around the room. His thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore's voice.

“All I can say Harry, is that I'm sorry. I knew you had proved to me time and time again that you could have handled this if I had told you earlier, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.”

Before Harry could respond, his stomach gave off a huge rumbling of hunger.

“Here,” said Dumbledore, pulling out his wand and giving it a wave. A plate of assorted sandwiches appeared along with a flask of pumpkin juice. “Eat. Then I suggest that you get some sleep. It will help your body adjust.”

“What is the date and time?” Harry asked as he took a sandwich.

“It’s July 18, and it's 9pm.” Dumbledore rose to his feet.

“Will I see you again? Before school starts again I mean?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. “I will be back tomorrow.”

“Right,” said Harry. “I just…have some questions I need to ask you that's all.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I figured that you would,” he said. “Get some rest Harry. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night sir.” Dumbledore left the room.

As overwhelming as the last few days had been, Harry didn't think about any of it at all as he hungrily devoured the sandwiches and pumpkin juice. After he finished it all, tiredness rapidly over took him. He fell back onto the bed and was asleep within moments.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry woke the next morning feeling refreshed. He found all of his gear at the foot of his bed. Searching through his bag of clothes, he found his watch and discovered that it was already midday. Stretching, he left the room and made his way downstairs.

Upon reaching the bottom, he noticed two things. First, the portrait of Mrs Black was still on the wall covered by the curtains. Swallowing the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat, he tiptoed passed and came across the shelf that had the heads of all of the previous house-elves.

At least it used to. The shelves were glaringly empty. Thinking about house-elves made Harry think of Kreacher, and anger started to surge through him like poison. He managed to keep it in check though. Taking a steadying breath, he entered the living room.

Seated around the table were Tonks, Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin. All three were engaged in conversation and hadn't noticed Harry, so he cleared his throat to alert them of his presence. All three of them looked up at once.

“Harry,” said Mr Weasley, getting up and shaking his hand. “Good to see you.”

“Are you hungry at all, Harry?” Tonks asked. “I’ll go make us some lunch.” She ruffled Harry's hair as she walked into the kitchen.

“I better go give her a hand,” said Mr Weasley, making note of Tonks’ well-known clumsiness. He too disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone with Lupin.

“How are you Harry?” Lupin asked quietly as he shook Harry's hand. The terrible sadness in Lupin's eyes almost made Harry’s heart break.

“I’m OK. You?”

“I’ll be alright,” Lupin said as he sat back down.

Harry sat down with him. “Where’s Kreacher?” he asked as calmly as possible.

“He’s dead,” said Lupin quietly. Seeing the surprised look on Harry’s face he continued. “He went delirious with delight after what happened to Sirius. He suffered a heart attack. You may have noticed all the heads are gone.” Harry nodded, not feeling sorry for Kreacher at all.

The front door open and closed and moments later, Dumbledore walked into the room.

“Good afternoon,” he said as he sat down. Harry and Lupin nodded in welcome.

“How are you today Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“I’m OK,” he said again.

Tonks and Mr Weasley re-entered the room with lunch, both of them greeted Dumbledore, and they sat down to eat.

“How has your summer been so far Harry?” Mr Weasley asked.

“Uneventful,” Harry replied. “I’ve already finished all of my homework. I found doing that helped me take my mind off…other things,” he finished quietly.

Everyone in the room knew he was making reference to Sirius, but thankfully for Harry, nothing was said on the matter. They all knew he would talk about it when he was ready.

“What's your take on the Azkaban breakout?” Lupin asked, diverting the topic.

Harry sighed in frustration. “I knew it was going to happen, especially with no Dementors there. Draco Malfoy said his Dad would be out in no time.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I had hoped that Draco would choose a different path to that of Lucius, but apparently not.”

Harry snorted. “I don't know why you bothered to hope sir. He was already gone the very first time I met him on the train.”

No one spoke again until everyone had finished. Tonks and Mr Weasley gathered up the dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

“What is he up to?” Harry asked quietly. Dumbledore and Lupin both knew he was asking about Voldemort.

“I wish we knew Harry,” said Dumbledore sadly. “Aside from the Azkaban breakout, he has been very quiet.”

“Too quiet,” said Lupin.

“Whatever he’s doing, it hasn’t made my scar burn,” said Harry. “It hasn't even twinged once, not even on the Azkaban breakout.”

“I don’t think that Voldemort felt too much emotion at that,” said Dumbledore. “I imagine that he was still fairly unhappy about the events at the end of June.”

Harry gave Dumbledore a sharp look, but was thankful that he had not made open reference to the prophecy. He had no idea if anyone else knew.

“No offence,” he said looking at Lupin, “but I have some questions that I need to ask Professor Dumbledore.”

“Of course Harry,” said Lupin. He left the room to help Tonks and Mr Weasley. Harry turned back to Dumbledore. He reached into his pocket, pulled out Ron's letter and handed it to Dumbledore. Dumbledore read it quickly and looked back up at Harry.

“How does Malfoy know?” Harry asked spitefully.

“I can't give you an exact answer, but the only assumption that I can make is that Bellatrix Lestrange has been in contact with the Malfoy family while Lucius was in jail.”

Although his face remained emotionless, under the table, Harry's fists were tightly clenched. His hatred for Bellatrix intensified even further. Steading himself, he went on. “What about Occulmency? Will I still need to learn it?”

“An interesting question,” Dumbledore answered. “While I still believe that he felt know emotion at the Azkaban breakout, I believe that Voldemort has realised how dangerous it is for you to have access to his thoughts. As so, I believe that he is now employing Occlumency against you.” Smiling slightly at the look of surprised relief on Harry’s face, Dumbledore continued. “Even so, I think it would be beneficial to you if you did, however I am not going to force you to do so. It is up to you.”

Despite this piece of good news, the final decision wasn't too hard for Harry. He didn't want anyone else to pay the ultimate price for a mind trick, even if it meant that Snape had to teach him. “I want to learn sir,” he answered determinedly.

Dumbledore nodded. “Originally, if you accepted of course, I was going to have you taught at Hogwarts, but since you have already finished all of your school work, we can do it here if you want. I will teach you. If all goes well, we may be finished before you have to go back to school.”

Harry felt some relief at this news. Not only would this not impede his lessons at school, but also he wouldn't have Snape teaching him either. And speaking of Snape…

“Sir, why did Professor Snape accept me into N.E.W.T Potions? I didn't get the required grade.” Dumbledore didn't miss the bitterness in Harry's voice when he said Snape's name. He sighed.

“I know this is not what you want to hear, but I convinced him to let you in. I really think that you would make an excellent Auror.” The answer was exactly what Harry had feared.

“Why did you do it?” he asked in an exasperated tone. “You both know that we hate each other all because of my father. I suppose he told you about the pensieve?”

“He did mention it.”

“Well maybe you can answer me,” said Harry quickly, before Dumbledore could say anything. “Everyone tells me that I am, but am I anything like my father?” he asked almost pleadingly. “Besides from looking like him?”

“You are more like your father than you realise Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “There is one big difference between the two of you though. That's your maturity. You have to understand Harry, that although Voldemort was on the rise when he and Lily were at school, he lived a relatively normal childhood. Something because of Voldemort, you have never been able to experience. You have fought him off more times than anyone. The person you are now Harry, is what James was when he fully matured. That was during his last year at Hogwarts, when Voldemort became a more serious threat. So when someone tells you that you are like your father from now on Harry, you should take that as the ultimate compliment. James Potter, regardless of his antics at Hogwarts and regardless of what Professor Snape may think, was a fine man.”

Harry tried to find something to say, but couldn't. He settled on nodding his head slowly. Dumbledore got to his feet.

“I know you probably have a few more questions Harry, but I have an appointment that I need to attend to. I will come back in a few days. Until then, practise clearing your head every night before you go to sleep. As you know, it will help in your Occlumency lessons. In the meantime, Remus will work on your sword skills with you. It can't hurt to practice.”

Dumbledore turned to go, but stopped and spoke again.

“I am one hundred and fifty years old Harry. So you can imagine that I have known quite a lot of people during my time. But out of all of them, you are the strongest of them all. You have overcome so many obstacles in your life just to get to where you are now. You’re parents would be very proud of you.” He paused. “I’m very proud of you.”

With those words, Dumbledore turned and left, leaving Harry still trying to find his voice. Finally, about ten minutes after Dumbledore left, Harry managed to drag himself to his feet and almost crashed into Lupin on his way out of the room.

“You OK, Harry?” Lupin asked concernedly.

“I’m fine,” said Harry quietly, finally finding his voice again. “I just need sometime alone.”

Lupin nodded as Harry wearily made his way back upstairs to his room.

A/N: OK. Blatant steal from HBP about Voldemort employing Occlumency against Harry. So you don’t need to tell me I know. Again, not too many changes here.

Some advance warning though. From June 1, I will be away for 2½ weeks, back for a week, gone for another 2½ weeks, back for a week, and then maybe gone for another 2½ weeks after that. Lot of travelling for me over the next month and a half. Hopefully the last 2½ weeks will be cancelled, because Deathly Hallows will be out by then, and if work forces me to miss that, heads will roll I assure you.

Anyway, let me know what you think.

J R Potter

3. Chapter Three: Confrontation With The Potions Master

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

The Second War: Chapter Three – Confrontation With The Potions Master

Lupin watched with sad eyes as Harry trudged up the stairs. He blamed himself for Sirius’ death just as much as Harry blamed himself. Harry blamed himself for falling for Voldemort’s mind trick, while Lupin blamed himself for failing to prevent Sirius from leaving Grimmauld Place. His mind went back to the frantic conversation that he had with Sirius that fateful afternoon.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Sirius, you know you have to stay here in case someone tries to contact us!” Lupin pleaded.

“Well I’m sick of it always being me!” Sirius shouted. “I’m sick of always being the one sitting around not doing anything!”

“You know you can’t be seen!”

“Don’t you think I’m willing to take that risk!? I made a promise Remus, you should remember, you were there! I swore to Lily and James that if anything happened to them, I would do whatever I could to help Harry! I lost twelve years of that time in Azkaban, and nothing you or anyone else says is going to stop me! I’m going with you to help Harry!”

“We need to get moving,” Moody growled. Tonks and Kingsley were waiting as well.

Lupin looked at the determined face of Sirius, and relented. “All right. Just be careful Sirius.”

“I know how to look after myself,” Sirius said contemptuously as they left.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That much Lupin knew. Add that to everything else that was going in Harry’s head…well, Lupin couldn’t understand how Harry could be putting on such a brave face.

“Remus?” Tonks’ voice jolted him from his thoughts.

“I’m OK,” he said quietly as they sat back down at the table where Mr Weasley was reading the Daily Prophet. “I just wish I could help Harry.”

“He needs to do quite a bit of thinking,” said Mr Weasley over the top of his paper. “It may take quite some time.”

Lupin sighed. “That’s the problem. We haven’t heard a thing about Voldemort, (Mr Weasley and Tonks flinched at the name) we don’t know where he is or what he is planning. I don’t want to pressure Harry into opening up, but he needs to be prepared.”

He trailed off and the three of them fell into silence. They all knew that they really couldn’t do anything until Harry felt ready to talk.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next three days seemed to last an eternity for Harry. Three hours of each day, Lupin worked with Harry on his sword skills. Lupin had charmed his and Harry’s swords so that they wouldn’t cause injury to each other. Although Harry picked up on Gryffindor’s skills very quickly, his heart simply wasn’t in it.

“That will do for today,” said Lupin, putting down his own sword. Harry had been quite surprised by Lupin’s skill with a blade. Lupin had explained that he had learned during his summers away from Hogwarts.

Harry put his sword back into his trunk and sat down on his bed. He felt very tired, as nightmares still plagued his sleep. He couldn’t try to sleep at the moment though. Dumbledore would be arriving later in the afternoon to start on his Occlumency lessons. He had tried to clear his thoughts, but it seemed almost impossible.

“You don’t have to do Occlumency today if you don’t feel like it,” Lupin told him, as if he was reading his thoughts.

But Harry shook his head. “I’m giving it a go Professor,” he said as firmly as he could.

“Please Harry, I’m not your teacher anymore. Please call me Remus.” He straightened up. “Dumbledore will be here in a couple of hours. Do you feel like any lunch?”

Harry nodded and Lupin disappeared down the stairs, returning a couple of minutes later with a plate of sandwiches that Mrs Weasley had made.

“I’ll leave you alone for a bit,” Lupin told him. Harry nodded his thanks as Lupin left the room.

As he sat there eating his lunch, Harry was again trying to clear his mind, but infuriatingly for him, it just wasn’t happening. Instead, for some odd reason, he kept thinking about the last few days. Not that anything special had happened.

He had stayed up in his room for the rest of the day after his talk with Dumbledore, only being disturbed after dinner when Mrs Weasley arrived and gave him her customary hug and some dinner. After giving her his seemingly automatic “I’m fine” answer when asked how he was going, she had said goodnight and left the room.

Harry went down to breakfast the next morning and found that Ginny was there as well, but there was no sign of Ron or the rest of the Weasley clan. Ginny told him that Ron was still helping Fred and George at the joke shop, and that Bill and Charlie were busy at work with the Order. Harry didn’t dare ask about Percy, but from what he had heard from Lupin later that day, Percy hadn’t been in contact with the Weasleys’. Harry could only guess that Percy was horribly embarrassed after Fudge’s major back-flip just over a month ago. Ginny (and Mr and Mrs Weasley for that mater) didn’t mention Ron’s incident with Malfoy in Diagon Alley either. Talk of Sirius was seemingly avoided like the plague, and for the moment, Harry preferred to keep it that way. Harry hardly said anything unless he was spoken too, and spent most of his time in his room, trying not to think about anything.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Harry called out quietly.

The door opened and Dumbledore entered the room. “Good afternoon Harry. Ready to begin?”

Well at least he didn’t beat about the bush Harry thought. Getting to his feet, he said “I don’t know how well this will go. Every time I try to clear my mind, something just keeps forcing its way in.”

“Try not to worry about it,” said Dumbledore. “I sure we will be able to work around it.”

Something else then occurred to Harry. “I have a tendency to fire spells while my mind is being attacked. What are we going to do about that?”

“The whole house has been charmed,” said Dumbledore. “The Ministry will not be able to detect any magic performed here.”

“OK,” said Harry, knowing he had bought all the time he could before the inevitable. “Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It didn’t go half as bad as Harry thought it would. Sure he wasn’t the world’s greatest Occlumens after just one lesson with Dumbledore, but he felt in the hour session that he had just had with Dumbledore that he had learnt more than he had with all of his lessons with Snape. Dumbledore always gave Harry sufficient time to recover from each mind probe, answered all of the questions that Harry had and was actually teaching him. Unlike Snape, who seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in continually breaking into Harry’s mind and instead of teaching him, seemed to be trying to shove all of the information down his throat at once.

“How do you feel?” Dumbledore asked.

“Not too bad. My heads a little sore, but my scar isn’t burning like it used to,” Harry replied, sitting down on his bed.

“That’s good,” said Dumbledore. “It means that you are learning. I hope that we can be finished before you go back to school.”

So do I Harry thought. “Where have you been the last couple of days?” he asked, surprising himself somewhat. He hadn’t expected himself to say that.

Dumbledore however looked at Harry thoughtfully, and then answered. “Well I suppose it will be in tonight’s Evening Prophet but”…he cleared his throat.

“Cornelius Fudge has resigned as Minister for Magic.”

Harry sprang to his feet. “What!?” he asked disbelievingly.

The door to the room burst open and Ginny rushed in. Her face turned bright red when she saw Dumbledore.

“I’m so sorry Professor,” she said sheepishly.

“No matter,” said Dumbledore smiling. “We just finished.”

Ginny nodded and turned her attention to Harry. “You might want to read this,” she said breathlessly.

Harry took the copy of the Evening Prophet from Ginny, who quickly left the room. Unfolding the paper, Harry looked at the first page.

MINISTER FOR MAGIC RESIGNS

After growing speculation and criticism over the handling of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Magical Community of Britain and members of the Ministry of Magic have given an overwhelming vote of no-confidence in the leadership of Cornelius Fudge, affectively leading him to resign earlier this afternoon.

Fudge’s resignation has been seen as inevitable ever since he announced You-Know-Who’s return at the end of June, after he continually denied all claims for the good part of a year that You-Know-Who had returned.

Fudge would not comment when leaving the Ministry. A temporary Minster will be appointed in the coming week, until an official election can take place. More news will follow in the coming days.

“Who is going to replace him?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore shrugged his shoulders. “That will be decided in the coming days. Sadly, I don’t think many people will want to take the job now that they know what is going on.”

“They’re scared,” said Harry bitterly. “This hasn’t helped us at all. We are a whole year behind on Voldemort and Fudge is going to get away with just resigning!”

“Voldemort is too much of a threat to be worried about that for now,” Dumbledore said.

Harry shook his head angrily. “The new Minister better know what they’ll be getting themselves in for. Has there been any news on Voldemort at all?”

“Nothing has changed in the last couple of days,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head. “I have to admit, it’s not like Tom at all to be this quiet. Like I have already said, I believe he is still very angry about the prophecy.” That caught Harry’s attention.

“Does-does anyone else know what the prophecy said?” he asked quietly.

“Only two,” said Dumbledore. “Remus and…” Harry didn’t need him to finish. He just nodded quickly and asked another question that had been bothering him.

“How am I supposed to tell Ron and Hermione?” he whispered so quietly that Dumbledore almost didn’t hear. “When I still have trouble accepting it myself?”

Dumbledore gave Harry a very sympathetic look. “I am afraid I cannot tell you how. That is going to have to be up to you.”

Harry had expected an answer along those lines. He thought how each of them would react. Ron’s reaction was bound to be the same that it always was: surprise and disbelief. But Hermione’s…Well this was something where asking other people or consulting books couldn’t help, so he wasn’t quite sure.

But the fact remained that he himself still could not accept what he had to do.

“I can’t,” he said suddenly.

“Sorry?” Dumbledore asked.

“I can’t do this,” Harry said almost desperately. “How can I be expected to end all this? How can I be expected to kill him?”

Dumbledore surveyed Harry closely. “Are you worried Harry, that people will think less of you if you do kill Voldemort?”

“I couldn’t care less what the public think about me,” Harry viciously replied. “It’s my friends I’m worried about,” he said very quietly. “Whatever way you look at it, my life is going to include murder; whether I perform the murder or my life ends with it.”

Dumbledore never felt for Harry more than he did at this moment. He had already been through so much in his life. From his mistreatment at the Dursleys, to the many ups and downs of his five years in the Wizarding World. Now here he was, and now the fate of the world hung on his shoulders, and he still wasn’t even sixteen!

“Harry,” he began. “In the eleven years before you were born, Voldemort showed the world what an evil destructive force he was. From his rise to power in 1969 to Hallowe’en 1981, he and his followers killed hundreds, if not thousands of people. Many of them died needlessly simply because they were what Voldemort hated more than anything else in this world. Many families that had Muggle-born witches and wizards were all killed. It wasn’t just them either. As you saw at the Quidditch World Cup, Death Eaters tortured and killed random Muggles simply for fun.” He sighed. “I know that there is nothing I can say or do that could possibly make you feel any better about what you have to do, but at least know this Harry. I meant what I said the other day when I told you that you are the strongest person I have ever known in my long life. I certainly wouldn’t think any less of you, and I know that your closest friends wouldn’t either.”

Damn, Harry thought. How does he do that? Coming up with things to say at the right time? He looked up at Dumbledore. “Well, it sounds a little better when you put it like that, but…”

“You are wondering if you are capable of killing.” Dumbledore gently finished. Harry just nodded. He didn’t really want to talk about this. It was going to have to be something that he would have to work out himself. Changing the subject, he asked Dumbledore, “What time is it?”

“Dinner time,” Dumbledore replied with a small smile on his face as he looked at his watch. “Don’t know about you, but I am very hungry.”

“So am I come to think of it,” said Harry. Together, they went down stairs, treading very quietly past Mrs Blacks portrait, and sat down at the table, where dinner had just started. Everyone with the exception of Mr Weasley was there.

“How was your lesson dear?” Mrs Weasley asked kindly as she loaded Harry’s plate with meatballs.

“Yeah it wasn’t too bad. Easily the best Occlumency lesson I’ve had,” he answered as he began to eat.

“Happy about Fudge’s resignation?” Lupin asked him.

“Yeah, but if no-one is going to be brave enough to take the job, it hasn’t really helped us has it?” said Harry disappointedly.

“No,” said Lupin quietly. “No it hasn’t.”

“Did you hear the news about Ginny, Harry?” Mrs Weasley asked with pride in her voice.

“Mum!” Ginny exclaimed, going slightly red.

“What is it?” Harry asked with a small smile, happy to have something to interrupt his thoughts.

“Well, I got my Hogwarts letter yesterday,” said Ginny a little sheepishly. “I’ve been made a Prefect.”

“Really? Congratulations,” said Harry sincerely. “I’m sure you’ll do a good job.”

“Thanks,” said Ginny, downing the last of her pumpkin juice. “That was great Mum, can I be excused?” Mrs Weasley gave her a kind nod. “She’s top of her year you know,” she said proudly after Ginny left.

“Wow. I didn’t know that,” said Harry, who then tried, and failed, to stifle a huge yawn.

“Tired?” Tonks asked amusedly.

“Just a bit. I can’t remember the last time I had a really good nights sleep,” Harry answered. Probably sometime before my name came out of the Goblet of Fire he thought darkly. “That was really great Mrs Weasley,” he said, finishing his last bite.

“I’m glad you liked it dear,” Mrs Weasley said as she got up and cleared the table. Harry let out another yawn. Sword and Occlumency lessons in the same day had really worn him out. “When will our next lesson be?” he asked Dumbledore.

“I hope that we can have a lesson every three days,” Dumbledore answered. “It’s important that you have at least that much of a break in between lessons. Also, I know you find it extremely difficult, but please keep trying to clear your mind.”

“I will sir.” Harry stood up from the table. “I’m going for an early night. Goodnight everyone.”

“Goodnight,” said everyone in unison.

Harry let out another huge yawn as he opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. Not being able to see where he was going, (his eyes had been forced shut by his yawn) he crashed into someone and fell to the floor behind them. Without looking to see who it was, he opened his mouth to apologise, but the other person spoke first.

“For goodness sake Potter. You are as clumsy as your father and Black were arrogant.”

The tiredness that Harry had felt moments ago evaporated in an instant, to be replaced with unbelievable hatred. Even after five years he simply could not believe the nerve of him. Not only had he again insulted the memory of his father, but also that of his godfather, who had only died weeks earlier.

And something inside Harry’s mind snapped.

“Terribly sorry, Snivellus.”

Snape froze in the act of closing the door.

“Oh yeah,” Harry continued quickly, pressing his advantage. “Don’t think I’ll forget that name in a hurry. So tell me, did my Dad manage to get your pants off that day?”

So consumed by rage was Harry he didn’t notice that Ginny was listening very intently up on the first landing, nor had he noticed the two people who had just arrived at the front door. Everyone in the living room and kitchen, even Dumbledore, were too shocked to do anything but listen.

Snape finally turned and faced Harry, and his usually pale face had gone red. “I suggest you watch what you say Potter,” he said acidly, “or I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Harry cut him off roughly. “We’re not at Hogwarts. You can’t take points from Gryffindor. But then again, that’s never stopped you before has it? Taking points from Gryffindor for any reason you can find. Anything to help out slimy Slytherin.”

Snape looked as though he was about to explode. Somehow, he calmed himself. Giving Harry a look of pure disdain, he coolly said, “The resemblance between yourself and your father at the same age is uncanny.” As if to signal the end of the conversation, he turned to walk away. But those words were the last straw for Harry.

“I AM NOT MY FATHER!” he screamed. Not only did Harry successfully cause Snape to jump a foot in the air, but his yell also woke up Mrs Black and the rest of the portraits in the corridor.

“FILTH! SCUM! BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS!”

“LOOK AT ME!” Harry yelled at Snape, somehow managing to drown Mrs Black out. “GIVE ME ONE INSTANCE WHERE I HEXED ANOTHER STUDENT JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT! YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT!” he continued before Snape could even open his mouth. “YOU CAN’T! MY NAME IS NOT JAMES POTTER. MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER, AND THE SOONER THAT BIT OF INFORMATION GETS THROUGH THAT GREASE-FILLED HEAD OF YOURS THE BETTER!”

“HALF-BREEDS, MUTANTS, FREAKS, BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE!”

“THIS ISN’T JUST ABOUT ME EITHER!” Harry shouted, continuing his uncontrollable rant. “MY FRIENDS HAVE SUFFERED AS WELL! CALLING HERMIONE A KNOW-IT-ALL AND REDUCING HER TO TEARS, INSULTING HER WHEN HER TEETH WERE ENLARGED, TWICE GIVING RON DETENTION JUST BECAUSE HE STUCK UP FOR HER AND THE WAY YOU CONTINUALLY BULLY NEVILLE EVEN THOUGH HE TRIES SO HARD!”

“BUT IT DOESN’T END THERE DOES IT? NO EVEN PEOPLE YOU WENT TO HOGWARTS WITH STILL SUFFER! YOU FORCED REMUS TO QUIT WHEN YOU TOLD EVERYONE IN SLYTHERIN THAT HE WAS A WEREWOLF SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU MISSED OUT ON AN ORDER OF MERLIN THAT YOU DIDN’T EVEN DESERVE IN THE FIRST PLACE! AND I WILL NEVER FORGET THE WAY YOU CONTINUALLY GOADED SIRIUS OVER THE LAST YEAR!”

By this point, Harry had tears of sorrow and rage pouring down his cheeks, but he didn’t care.

“HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS…”

“SHUT UP!” Harry roared, yelling louder than he had ever had in his life, and such was the fury behind his words, every portrait in the corridor was suddenly blown off the wall. Their screams were replaced by wails of panic. Harry however noticed none of this. His emerald green eyes were burning a hole right through a shocked looking Snape.

“YOU! YOU ACTUALLY SERVED HIM! YOU SERVED THAT BASTARD! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO EVER GAIN DUMBLEDORE’S TRUST AND I REALLY DON’T CARE! BECAUSE I WILL NEVER TRUST YOU AND YOU HAVE NEVER GIVEN ME OR SHOWN ME ANY REASON AS TO WHY I SHOULD! AND AFTER EVERYTHING YOU HAVE DONE TO ME, MY FRIENDS, REMUS, SIRIUS AND EVEN CALLING MY MOTHER A MUDBLOOD BACK AT HOGWARTS, I WILL NEVER, EVER, FORGIVE YOU!’

Tears still pouring down his face, Harry gave Snape one last scathing look before turning to go upstairs. It was then he noticed who was at the front door.

Mr Weasley was looking at him with a mixture of awe and shock. But Harry was looking at the person next to him.

Underneath the long bushy brown hair on her head, Hermione Granger was looking at him with an expression that could only be described as pure shock. Tears were also silently cascading down her cheeks.

“No,” was all Harry was able to gasp out, his voice not surprisingly sounding hoarse, before making a mad dash up the stairs. Ginny had to flatten herself against the wall on the first landing just so Harry didn’t run her over. Completely oblivious to her, Harry dashed up to his room, slammed the door behind him, and then collapsed onto his bed before breaking down completely.

A/N: Well, Harry sure let old Snapey have it didn’t he? That was a lot of fun to write, let me tell you. You know the drill. Let me know what you think.

J R Potter

4. Chapter Four: Hermione's Many Conversations

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

By the way, you may have noticed in chapters two and three, the title of the story is ‘The Second War’ instead of ‘Harry Potter & The Power Of Gryffindor.’ Just ignore it, as I, in my infinite stupidity forgot to change it. Anyway, well done me and onwards we go.

Harry Potter & The Power Of Gryffindor: Chapter Four – Hermione’s Many Conversations

The three weeks away from the wizarding world were full of conflicting emotions for Hermione Granger. She was happy to be at home with her parents, who she had not seen in nearly a year. But that was the only reason she could find to be happy.

She was worried. Worried sick.

Hermione’s family usually liked to go on summer holidays, but that wasn’t the case this year as Hermione’s father, Jonathon Granger, was away attending a dental conference in Wales which started on July 14. Hermione didn’t mind though. She wasn’t in much of a holidaying mood. She spent those two weeks with her parents relaxing the best she could, but found more often than not, her thoughts were drawn to her best friend, Harry Potter.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the few days left in the term after her release from the hospital wing, Hermione had tried talking to Harry about Sirius, but Ron had always stopped her. Initially, she was annoyed by this. All she wanted to do was help Harry. She felt she was failing her obligation as a friend by not being able to.

Before she knew it, the day of the end-of-year feast had arrived and Hermione was running out of time to talk to Harry. Fortunately, lessons for the term had finished, so Hermione had until that night to try. She was one of the first into the Great Hall for breakfast, with the majority of students taking advantage of no lessons and sleeping in. Not feeling like eating in a nearly empty Great Hall, Hermione grabbed a stack of toast and headed outside.

Her pace was slow as she walked around the edge of the lake, reminding herself of the times Harry and herself walked around the lake in the month leading up to the first task of the Tri-wizard Tournament. Hermione couldn’t believe that was just over one-and-a-half years ago. So much had happened since then and sadly, not a lot of it had been good.

Throwing her last piece of toast into the lake, Hermione watched as a tentacle of the giant squid lazily reached out of the water and grabbed it. Turning back towards the castle, Hermione noticed Hagrid was out the front of his cabin, sitting on a giant log playing his flute. Having not seen him since he had been back, Hermione wondered over.

“Mornin’ Hermione,” Hagrid greeted.

“Hi Hagrid,” Hermione said. “You look better.”

“Oh yeah. Me face healed up a bit while I was hidin’. But Grawpy’s behaving loads better,” he added enthusiastically. “He don’t hit me anymore, but still uprootin’ trees. Anyway, you alone?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “No lessons today, so most of the school are, or at least trying,” she added, thinking of Harry, “to sleep in.”

Hagrid understood her meaning. “How’s Harry?” he asked tentatively.

Hermione sighed and sat down next to Hagrid on the log. “Not good,” she answered quietly. He just seems… so distant from all of us, and every time I try to talk to him about Sirius, Ron always stops me.”

“That’s probably a good thin’.”

Hermione looked up at Hagrid. “Excuse me?”

Hagrid shifted a little uncomfortably. “He came down here last Sunday. I tried talkin’ to him then. Mind you,” he added quickly before Hermione could respond, “probably went ‘bout it the wrong way by tellin’ him Sirius would’ve preferred to have died in battle then sit ‘round doin’ nothing.”

Hermione took in a sharp breath. She knew Hagrid meant well, but that in her opinion, definitely wasn’t the way to try and open Harry up. “How did he react?” she asked.

“He said he was goin’ ter visit you an’ Ron up at the hospital wing an’ left before I could finish sayin’ goodbye.”

Hermione frowned. “He left us to go see you, and he didn’t come back. We didn’t see him for the rest of the day.” She sighed again. “I just want to try and help him Hagrid. I mean he’s not the only one sad and affected by what happened...”

“An’ deep down, Harry knows that,” Hagrid interrupted. ‘You have to understand it’s not easy for him. Harry has never known his family an’ Sirius was one of Harry las’ links to them as his Godfather. I can’t even imagine what he’s goin’ through…” he trailed off.

“Then what can I… we do?” Hermione asked sadly. Hagrid noticed her minor slip-up, but let it slide.

“Just be there for him. Harry’s goin’ ter need time to digest everything. Cause when the time comes, he goin’ ter need all our support. Just be there for him,” he reiterated.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione had left Hagrid shortly after to think about what he said. Normally, she wasn’t the kind of person to just sit back and do nothing. That evening, when it became clear that Harry wasn’t coming to the end-of-year feast, Hagrid’s words came into her head, and she was very tempted to run up to Gryffindor tower. But Harry had been the subject of conversation all year, both good and bad, and now that Hermione thought about it, what with Sirius’s death and Fudge finally announcing Voldemort’s return, Hermione really couldn’t blame Harry for not showing up.

Hermione noticed that Harry’s absence wasn’t lost on Dumbledore either. Halfway through his end of year speech, his eyes scanned the Great Hall, looking at all the house tables before coming to rest on the Gryffindor table. Hermione noticed that Dumbledore wasn’t exactly looking at her, or at Ron. Rather, he was staring at the empty seat in between and Hermione saw his eyes sadden. In the blink of an eye, the look was gone and Dumbledore resumed his speech. Hermione and Ron both knew that Harry had spoken with Dumbledore the morning they returned from the Department of Mysteries. Usually, they would ask Harry what was said in a heartbeat, but out of respect, both of them had come to an unspoken agreement that neither of them would ask what was said between them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Apart from members of the DA taking care of Malfoy and co. when they tried to jump Harry, and the brief discussion about Cho, not much was said on the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross. After the Dursleys were sufficiently warned by the Order, everyone said their goodbyes to Harry. Although Hermione could tell that the smile on Harry’s face as he left with the Dursleys was genuine, the smile didn’t reach his eyes, which looked horribly haunted. Hermione had a feeling it went further than Harry’s grief over Sirius’ death, but what she didn’t know.

After saying her quiet goodbyes to the Weasleys and members of the Order, Hermione left Kings Cross with her parents and hardly said a word for the entire trip back to her home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione sighed and bought herself out of her stupor. It was now the morning of July 22, and she was lying on her bed, propped up against her pillows as she lazily stroked Crookshanks who was curled up on her lap. Although she liked to think she was relaxing, she was sure any outsider looking in at her would think she was distracted. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t go a couple of minutes without thinking about Harry, and as such, she wasn’t as far into her homework than she hoped.

Hermione wrote to Harry every second day. She was always relieved whenever Hedwig would turn up with a response, and although Harry always wrote that he was fine, Hermione knew he was far from it. But what could she do? She knew Harry was strong, but there was only so much he could take. Harry however hadn’t written for nearly a week now and Hermione was beginning to get slightly worried.

She placed her left hand to her ribs, as she had done many times since she had been home. She was fine now, she knew, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming about what happened at night. The dreams didn’t come every night, for which she was grateful, and she had yet to shout out and wake her parents. Hermione hadn’t told them about the incident and wouldn’t if she could avoid it. Her dreams ended the same way: the purple flame that Dolohov shot at her just struck her chest before she would jolt awake. As soon as she awoke, the same thought would come to her.

Silenco. Honestly. Why didn’t I just stun him or full body-bind like anyone else would have? Hermione was very critical of herself about this. She felt as though she let everyone, particularly Harry, down. She knew voice-less magic could be performed, Merlin knew she had read enough about it in books. How could she make such a stupid mistake when her and her friend’s lives were on the line?

This wasn’t the only thing that was Hermione mind though. She remembered the one morning last week when many owls had arrived for her bearing all kinds of news, not the least being the breakout of the captured Death Eaters from Azkaban reported in the Daily Prophet. She sighed when she read this. She supposed it was inevitable with no Dementors guarding Azkaban that the Death Eaters would get out, but that didn’t make it hurt any less to read about it. Her gaze lingered on the moving photograph of Antonin Dolohov, and an involuntary shudder passed through Hermione. Hermione hoped that she would never meet Dolohov again, but if she did, she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

The next letter she opened made her feel slightly better. It contained her O.W.L results. She was slightly nervous about what he would find inside the envelope, but when she finally did open it, her fears were unfounded. She had scored ‘Outstanding’ in every aspect of every exam which gave her twelve O.W.Ls, the best possible score, which pleased her mother to no end. The small mistake that she made in her Ancient Runes didn’t seemed to have mattered after all, while she could only be thankful that she had finished her Astronomy practical exam just moments before Umbridge’s cowardly effort to remove Hagrid from Hogwarts.

Hermione read the letter she received from Ron next. The first paragraph shocked her when she read that Ron had given up his Prefect status. She found out why as she read the rest of what Ron had written, and while a part of her greatly disapproved what Ron had done, a far greater part of her could help but feel grim satisfaction when she read that Ron had knocked the bouncing white ferret flat on his arse.

Ron had hinted that Harry may be chosen as his replacement and Hermione honestly didn’t see any other alternative. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas weren’t exactly authority figures, but Hermione knew both of them would probably admit that anyway. Neville Longbottom didn’t quite fit the mould either, despite his dramatic improvement over the past year.

Hermione didn’t have to wait long to find out as she opened the last letter, which was the standard Hogwarts letter from Professor McGonagall. After reading through it, she came to the last paragraph.

And finally, you may know this already, but Ronald Weasley has given up his status as a Prefect. After consulting Professor Dumbledore, we have decided that Harry Potter will be the new Gryffindor Prefect. I am sure that you will let Mr Potter know of his duties and responsibilities as a Prefect in good time.

Hermione knew that Harry should have gotten the badge last year but for some reason, Dumbledore had chosen Ron instead. Hermione meant no offence to Ron, but she couldn’t believe it herself. Prefects were meant to set examples to the younger students and while Harry was certainly no saint, Hermione felt he could have done the job better than Ron. Harry leading the DA was the perfect example.

Although, she had thought bitterly, it might have been just a little difficult for him given the fact the 99% of the school thought he was a raving lunatic.

“Hermione?”

Hermione gave a small jolt, not enough to disturb Crookshanks, as her thoughts were interrupted, and looked to see her mother standing in the doorway.

Jane Granger had been worried ever since Hermione had returned from Hogwarts. She may not have seen her daughter as much as she used to, but she still knew the look Hermione had in her eyes when something was wrong. Jonathon had noticed it as well, and while he was away, Jane had resolved herself to find out what was troubling their daughter.

“Sorry dear,” she said apologetically to Hermione. “Did I scare you?”

“Just a little,” Hermione answered with a small smile. Mrs Granger moved into the room and sat at the foot of Hermione’s bed, wondering how to start the conversation she wanted to have with her daughter. Finally, deciding there was no easy way, she plunged in head first.

“What’s bothering you Hermione?” she asked softly, but firmly.

A look of surprise came across Hermione’s face. She opened her mouth to answer, but her mother cut across her.

“Don’t say nothing dear,” she said, all firmness in her voice gone. It was now almost pleading. “You’ve just been so different since you came back from Hogwarts. Usually you can’t wait to tell me what happened during the school year, but this year you have hardly said anything.”

Hermione felt her heart begin to break as she saw her mother blink furiously to hold the tears that were threatening. Gently putting Crookshanks aside, she quickly embraced her. “I’m sorry Mum,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She pulled away from her and resigned herself to having to explain. “I just really worried at the moment that’s all.”

“About Harry?”

“What makes you think that?” Hermione asked a little too quickly.

“You… you’ve been talking in your sleep,” Mrs Granger said a little hesitantly.

Hermione felt her face go red both with embarrassment and anxiety. Had her mother heard her nightmares? “What have you heard me saying?” she asked quietly, dreading the answer.

“Nothing specific,” Mrs Granger answered. “But Harry’s name has come up a fair bit.”

Hermione sighed and decided to tell the story of their horrible fifth year. She started off with Harry’s trial, explaining why Fudge desperately wanted Harry out of Hogwarts, and the campaign he had started to discredit both Harry and Dumbledore. From there it was on to Hogwarts itself and the appointment of Dolores Umbridge by the Ministry when Dumbledore couldn’t find a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Umbridge’s campaign against anyone at Hogwarts who sided with Harry.

The story seemed to be never-ending, but about half-an-hour later, Hermione finished the tale with Sirius’ death.

“But what happened to you?” Mrs Granger asked curiously. “You did go with him to the Ministry didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Hermione a little hesitantly, something her mother didn’t miss.

“Were you hurt?” Mrs Granger asked quickly.

Hermione hesitated again, and knew there was no point in trying to lie. “I-I got hit in the chest by some sort of purple flame,” she said quietly. “It did some damage, but I’ve been treated Mum and I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me or your Dad?” Mrs Granger asked crossly.

“Because I knew you would react like this,” Hermione replied a little tersely. “Don’t worry Mum, I’m alright.”

“It sounds like the magical world is becoming more dangerous….” Mrs Granger started.

“Well of course it is!” Hermione replied exasperatedly. “Voldemort’s back and now finally the rest of the magical world knows.”

“Well, if Harry knew that going down to the Ministry was going to be dangerous, why did he drag you and your friends along?” Mrs Granger asked accusingly.

“What!?” Hermione couldn’t believe it. “He didn’t! He wanted to go by himself, but we all told him point blank that if he was going, we were going with him!” she finished, her voice getting louder as she went.

“You went voluntarily?” Mrs Granger was aghast. “Hermione you could have been killed!”

“Harry has saved my life more than once!”

“It seems that Harry is always being targeted, and so are you just by being his friend! I don’t understand why you continue to stick by him…”

“I STICK BY HIM BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!”

Hermione had literally screamed this last part out. Instantly, her hands flew up to her mouth, and her eyes began to water with tears. It was the last thing she had expected to say in response to her mother’s attack on Harry, but there it was, the secret she had kept for over a year had been revealed.

Mrs Granger was shocked into silence, as they both stared at each other. After about a minute, she finally found her voice.

“Y-you love him?” she whispered.

At this point, Hermione could no longer hold her mother’s gaze. She looked down at her lap as the tears made their way down her cheeks. “For over a year,” she whispered in a choked voice. “When he disappeared for a time after the third task of the Tri-wizard Tournament, I didn’t know if I was ever going to see him again Mum! It made me realise how important he is to me. Then there was last year, when he started going out with Cho Chang. I tried to be happy for him. I even tried to help him when things weren’t working out between them. I thought that if I helped him, I might have been able to move on. But it didn’t work Mum, and know I love him even more.” Hermione finally broke down as she finished.

Instinctively, Mrs Granger wrapped her arms around her daughter and Hermione cried into her mother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Hermione,” she whispered. “I had no idea.” She gently rocked Hermione and her tears eventually subsided. They both just sat there, holding each other, not knowing how much time had passed, when they both heard the doorbell ring from downstairs.

“I’m sorry for what I said again,” she whispered as they separated. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll just go clean myself up,” she said quietly and headed in the direction of the bathroom, while Mrs Granger went downstairs to answer the door.

She got a small surprise as she opened the door. “Mr Weasley?”

“Good afternoon Mrs Granger,” Arthur Weasley greeted. “I hope I find you well.”

“Yes, quite well,” Jane replied, slightly confused as to why a wizard was on her doorstep. “May I ask what brings you around?”

“I would like to speak to your daughter if at all possible.”

“Yes, of course, come in.” Mrs Granger ushered Mr Weasley to the living room. “Would you care for a drink?” she asked.

“A glass of water would be fine thanks,” Mr Weasley replied. Moments later, Mrs Granger returned from the kitchen and handed Mr Weasley his glass. “I’ll just fetch Hermione from upstairs,” she said. Mr Weasley nodded in acknowledgement and she quickly made her way upstairs, where she found Hermione still in the bathroom, drying her face.

“Alright?” she asked.

Hermione nodded. “Who was at the door?”

“Arthur Weasley is downstairs. He wants to talk to you.”

“Downstairs?” One thought penetrated her mind instantly. Harry. She quickly made her way downstairs and found Mr Weasley in the living room.

“Hermione, how are you?” Mr Weasley asked.

“I’m OK. But do you know how Harry is doing? I haven’t heard from him in nearly a week.”

“Relax Hermione. Harry is at Grimmauld Place. I assure you he is safe.”

“Why on earth is he at Grimmauld Place?” Hermione demanded.

“I know it’s probably not where Harry wants to be, but according to Dumbledore, other than Privet Drive, Grimmauld Place is the safest place for him to be,” Mr Weasley answered. “That’s what brings me here today.”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Albus seems to think that Harry needs his friends at the moment,” Mr Weasley explained. “I gather Ron wrote to you about Diagon Alley?”

Hermione nodded. “Is he alright?”

“He’s a little moody at the moment. I think he’s a little worried about Harry’s reaction to the letter he wrote to him.”

“So that’s why Ron is still with Fred and George?”

“More or less. So if it’s convenient for you, Dumbledore really thinks it would be a good idea if you could be there for Harry.”

Hermione turned to look at her mother, who had been listening to the short conversation.

“Please Mum? I know it’s sudden and all, but…”

“Go on dear.”

Hermione looked disbelievingly at her mother. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Mrs Granger said with a smile. “I’ll let your father know.”

Hermione leapt at her mother. “Thank you,” she said as she hugged her, before releasing her and tearing up the stairs to pack.

Mrs Granger shared a smile with Mr Weasley before following Hermione upstairs. She found her in her room, packing at light speed.

“I know you love him,” she said as Hermione closed her trunk. “I could see it in your eyes, when you screamed it at me. I know because it’s the same look I had in my eyes when I realised I was in love with your father,” she said with a reminiscent smile.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile. “I’m all set,” she said as she carefully wheeled her trunk downstairs, where Mr Weasley was waiting.

“I’ll send your gear on ahead,” he said. Hermione placed down her trunk and Crookshanks’ cage. With a wave of Mr Weasley’s wand, they both vanished.

“It knows where to go?” Mrs Granger asked wonderingly.

“Oh yes,” said Mr Weasley. “Another one of Dumbledore’s creations. Don’t ask me how he did it. Great man he is,” he added. “Ready Hermione?”

“How are we getting there?” Hermione asked.

“I’ll place a Disillusionment charm on us, and then we’ll Apparate over. I know you can’t,” he said as Hermione opened her mouth, “so you’ll just have to hang onto my arm.”

Hermione nodded and turned to her mother, giving her one last hug. “I know we haven’t seen a lot of each other lately…” she started.

“It’s OK,” Mrs Granger said, holding her daughter tightly. “Harry sounds like he needs you. Just be careful Hermione.”

“I will Mum.” Hermione released her mother and turned to Mr Weasley. “Ready,” she said. Mr Weasley placed the Disillusionment charm on the pair off them.

“Bye Mum,” Hermione said.

“Bye Hermione. Take care.” Seconds later with a loud crack, Hermione and Mr Weasley were gone.

A/N: Well, that’s another one in the book. I had hoped to have chapter five done before I went away, but it’s looking unlikely, as I currently struggling to put words to paper (or computer screen as it were.) But maybe I’ll be able to string a few words together from somewhere and get it done. But it won’t be up unless I’m completely happy with it.

Anyway, cheers for reading and let me know what you thought.

J R Potter