Looking Back

Author's Note:

After Deathly Hallows, I have a strong urge to repair the damage that has been done. If you've read any of my stories, they have been exceedingly dark. This one will not be. This will be a more typical Portkey story - new for me, actually.

Hopefully you like it - this chapter is short because I want to get something out quickly and get a response. Do you think it's believable? I don't want to look back and want to start over because of a faulty premise.

Well, have fun reading, I suppose, and prepare for some revenge on the Deathly Hallows Epilogue, which I am conveniently ignoring. As far as I'm concerned, Rowling was JK when she wrote it (horrible, I know), so I'll just laugh it off.

On with the story...

(Formatting is fixed, thanks to Ancient Werewolf. Hope you like it.)

Looking Back

Prologue

by hpotter225

Happiness, joy, peace - feelings Harry had expected to have - were absent. He had won, with luck, and he was alive, a fortunate bonus, yet he felt as though he had lost. Up the hill to the castle he heard the occasional holler of triumph, but it fell upon deaf ears. Not only was the fight over; so was Harry.

The wand in his sweaty palm and the cloak draped about his shoulders were hardly prizes considering all that was lost, Harry thought bitterly. He just wanted to be normal. More precisely, he still wanted to be normal.

"Knut for your thoughts?" interrupted Hermione's calm voice, sending Harry jumping to his feet.

"How did you know where I was?" Harry asked, letting the cloak slip from his shoulders.

"Luna," answered Hermione simply.

Harry sat down and leaned back on his elbows, staring impassively over the lake. "Well I don't want to take you away from the festivities," he said.

"Nonsense," said Hermione, her face blank, though noticably forced. "How are you holding up?"

"I just killed Voldemort. How do you think I'm holding up?" asked Harry with intentional sarcasm.

Hermione stared at him for a moment. "Relieved, I would assume. Are you still planning on being an Auror?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging.

"Tired of fighting Dark Wizards?" asked Hermione, smiling slightly. "I don't blame you. But if you aren't going to be an Auror then what will you do?"

Harry sighed, still staring at the lake. "I haven't really thought about it. Didn't plan on living this long."

If Harry had been watching, he would have seen Hermione visibly stiffen. "That is a terrible thing to say," she said crossly. "Everyone has dreams. Just because you had to kill Voldemort doesn't take that away."

"Most of my dreams involved taking Voldemort down with me," said Harry, turning to face Hermione, whose face was a tinge of pink.

"Don't say that," Hermione said. "How could you have lived at all, knowing that if you killed Voldemort you wouldn't have been able to live your own life after? Wasn't that the whole point?"

"Give me a break, Hermione," Harry shot back. "I didn't have anything to look forward to then and I have nothing to look forward to now."

"Nothing to look forward to?" asked Hermione incredulously. "You have everything to look forward to - friends, a job, a wife and kids."

Harry snorted. "None of those can happen. I'm not going to find a job where I'm not chased by Harry Potter fans everywhere I go, and I can't get married with Death Eaters on the loose. I could live in Grimmauld Place, I suppose, and I have enough money to support me, but I can't do more than sit around all day."

Hermione looked hurt. "And your friends, Harry? You forgot about your friends. We-"

But Harry cut her off. "How many friends do you think I'll have after you and Ron get married? Everyone else is going to get a job and settle down because that's what people do when they leave school. They're not going to hang out with Harry Potter."

"So you think Ron and I are going to forget about you. Is that it?" asked Hermione dangerously, her eyes blazing.

"Look," Harry said, his face softening. "I know you won't do it intentionally-"

This time Hermione cut him off. "We won't do it at all. We stuck with you through the past seven years, through every expedition, every test, through good and bad. We're not going to stop now."

"Of course not," Harry responded dryly, once again staring over the lake. "You'll come visit every day once you have your own place, and you'll send me OWLs from work, and we'll go out to lunch and dinner all the time. And once you have kids, they'll have parties at Uncle Harry's house."

"I-" Hermione started, but she bit her lip thoughtfully.

Harry smirked. When Hermione was at a loss for words, he knew it meant he had a good point. And he did.

"It's not like we're getting married immediately. I mean, he hasn't asked... but it would be nice."

"He will," said Harry. "Soon."

This seemed to brighten Hermione's features and she lay back on the grass, letting her hair spill all around her in a fan. "I hope so," she said under her breath, then rolled her head to look at Harry. "But we'll still be friends. We'll always be friends."

"Right," said Harry, forcing a smile. But even though he had convinced Hermione, his thoughts were not so easily persuadable. The future looked nothing but grim for Harry Potter.

Author's Note:

I haven't split up the story into chapters, so the layout is still a bit odd. The next chapter is when the fun begins. And a disclaimer: this chapter was mostly written in the hours past midnight, so I won't guarantee that it meets any decent standard. Hopefully it does. Next one will be higher quality.

A few warnings:

The novel begins with slight Harry/Ginny (very brief) and with Ron/Hermione (nothing serious). But it will end up with the standard pairings. Don't worry!

Must... sleep...

Thank for reading. Ideas are welcome!

Looking Back

Chapter 1

"I don't believe it," said Ginny, folder her arms and shaking her head. "I don't believe a word of it."

Harry looked up from his sitting position on the couch and watched Ginny pace back and forth in front of him. She was breathing heavily and her lips were pressed tightly together, as if she was holding back an outburst.

"You told me to wait and I waited. My present - you didn't have any reservations then. Why now? Why, when it's all over and we have nothing to hold us back, do you tell me this? You're not trying to protect me from stray Death Eaters, are you? Because if you are..."

"It's not that," Harry said quietly. "I'm just not ready, not this soon."

Ginny spun around and dropped into the seat next to him, staring intently into his eyes. "Then do it for me. We'll work through this."

"Ginny..." Harry began. "It doesn't work that way."

Ginny bolted to her feet in frustration, then turned on Harry. "And why not?"

"I can't explain," said Harry. "I don't understand it."

This answer did not satisfy Ginny and she began pacing again. "Kiss me," she said finally, stopping in front of Harry, who turned his head cautiously upward.

It wasn't the prospect of kissing Ginny that gave him inhibitions - she was truly a beautiful girl. He just didn't want to lead her on, for her to read into it, to think that he would come around. But he had feelings for her, didn't he? Wasn't he just depressed and would come to his senses soon? There was a good chance, Harry reasoned.

"Just one, and you have to promise that you'll stop after," said Harry, standing slowly.

"I promise," said Ginny, grinning slyly.

Something felt wrong as Harry leaned forward - something felt terribly wrong. And as his lips met Ginny's, the feeling didn't go away. He didn't feel anything except emptiness - her attraction meant nothing. He was kissing her, but he wasn't. His mind seemed to be detached from his head and was watching from afar. It was neither pleasurable or disagreeable. It was nothing.

He pulled away.

"You'll come around," said Ginny confidently, a goofy smirk on her face. "I can tell."

I'm not so sure, thought Harry while the words "I hope so" came out of his mouth.

The creaking of the portrait hole indicated the entrance of Luna, Ron and Hermione. Ron was laughing loudly and Hermione was red in the face, smiling faintly. Luna looked pleasant and entirely detached from reality. It brought a smile to Harry's face.

"Hey Harry," said Ron brightly. "Some reporters want to see you. I told them to bugger off, but they followed me to the common room. You'd better stay in here where it's safe."

Safe. The word seemed to lift the spirits of everyone in the room. There was a great difference, Harry realized, between true safety and the safety he had felt at Bill and Fleur's house under the Fidelius Charm. Safety without freedom was only a facade. But true safety was real and permeated every thought, every emotion, every feeling. It was a pleasant change.

Ron crossed the room obliviously and collapsed onto a love seat, but Hermione stood just inside the entrance eyeing Harry and Ginny with curiosity. She smiled and looked at Harry, raising one eyebrow amusedly. Harry glared back.

"Now what?" asked Ron, looking around the room. "What are you all planning on doing now that it's all over?"

"It's not over yet, Ron," said Ginny, staring pointedly at Harry. "We still have to heal."

Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement. Harry stared at the floor.

After a long silence, Ron stood up and walked over to the couch. He sat down next to Harry and looked into the fire. "So what do all of you plan on doing?"

The wall was suddenly of great interest to Harry. He stared at it intently, ignoring Hermione's glare on the back of his neck.

"I might work at the Ministry," offered Hermione. "They'll need a lot of help rebuilding. Afterwards I might be a Healer."

"Way to be boring, Hermione," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to try out for the Cannons. Their Keeper's family got killed by some Death Eaters a couple weeks ago - they're having tryouts in a few days."

"Ron, that's great!" Hermione said encouragingly. "You'll be excellent - I know it."

The false tone in her voice sent shivers down Harry's back. He couldn't stand that she was trying to change herself for Ron, to say what he wanted to hear - as if he would stop seeing her if she wasn't a perfect girlfriend.

Ginny frowned. "I doubt mum will let me drop out of school."

"Neither will I," Harry and Ron said at once, both rounding on Ginny.

"You need to finish school," continued Harry. "If you don't then you've wasted six years."

"He's right, Ginny," confirmed Hermione. "Besides, what would you do if you dropped out?"

Ginny stared directly at Harry. "I don't know," she said slowly but firmly. "What will you do, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Probably get a flat and a job."

"What kind of job," probed Hermione stepping forward into Harry's sight.

Ron came to the rescue. "You don't need money, Harry. You can vacation for the rest of your life."

"Ron, why would he-" started Hermione.

"I never thought of that," said Harry suddenly, cutting her off. He smiled. "That's a good idea."

"No, it's a terrible idea," said Hermione, stepping forward so that she was directly in front of Harry. "You'll hate your life and you'll get depressed. And where are you going to get a flat?"

"Haven't thought about it," Harry said, turning away. "I'm going to get something to eat."

Ginny placed a hand on his arm. "Harry?"

"I'll be back in a minute," said Harry dismissively, pushing open the portrait.

Planning on a short walk, Harry did not expect to be pushed back into the wall by twenty flashes going off at once. He did not have the patience to deal with the media right now.

"Lay off," Harry growled, blinking hard to readjust his eyes. He pushed his way through the mob of reporters and took off down the hall at a quick jog, tossing his cloak on as he rounded the corner. When the chaos passed, he pulled it off and stowed it away in Hermione's magic bag. Finally, he thought exasperatedly. Some peace and quiet.

But even without people around, his head still swam with confusion, and he sat in the hallway praying that no one would find him and waiting for the day to be over.

Much of the next week, Harry found himself avoiding company and sitting in recluse spots. With his Invisibility Cloak on and the Marauder's map in his hand, he was nearly nonexistent, much to the annoyance of Ginny and Hermione. Both of them seemed to be trying their hardest to get Harry to talk to them - so much that he began avoiding them intentionally. Harry even suspected Ron was being paid off to talk to him.

When Wednesday rolled around, the castle inhabitants began to dwindle, only a few teachers and students left gathering their belongings. Everyone was stressed about packing, fussing constantly about where they would stay and what they would do, when they would meet next; but Harry felt nothing.

In one hour the train would arrive to take out the last load. Harry was sitting against a tree overlooking the lake covered by his cloak and debating whether to board it or to walk to Hogsmeade. He didn't flinch at the twig snapping behind him.

"You can't do this, Harry," Hermione said, sitting next to him. "We're worried about you - all of us."

"Don't," Harry said. "I'll be fine."

Hermione bit her lower lip. "You aren't fine. Every day you look more depressed. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Harry.

"Take off the cloak," Hermione said quietly. "Look at me." She reached out slowly and pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak, letting it slide to the ground as she repositioned herself to face Harry. "You haven't been sleeping."

Harry stared silently ahead.

"You haven't decided on a place to stay yet, have you?" Hermione inquired.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head.

"Why don't you come to my house - I'm going to let my parents stay in Australia for a few more weeks until I can get a stable job. You can stayuntil then - unless you want to live with my parents. I'm sure they'll let you but I'll be moving out."

Harry shrugged. "Sure," he said flatly. "Better than any plan I've come up with."

"Don't sound so excited," Hermione said jokingly.

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Hermione."

"It's what friends do," Hermione informed him. "They stick together." .

"Right," said Harry. "Have you run this by Ron yet?"

"Why should he care?" asked Hermione. "He knows you won't try anything." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Harry grinned. "I wasn't talking about me."

"Funny," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Get on the train."

* *

Ron, Luna, Hermione and Harry sat in the same compartment on the ride to King's Cross. Much to Ron's chagrin, Luna chose the seat next to him and, when he asked her to move, pulled out a leather bound book and began to read. Hermione watched amusedly; Harry stared out the window.

"Voldemort," said Luna quite suddenly. Everyone flinched and turned to face her. "It isn't taboo any more," said Luna with a satisfied grin. "Now we can say it all we want. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort."

"Just because we can say it doesn't mean we should say it," Ron said, visibly irritated.

"Well I think we should," challenged Luna. "All of this 'You-Know-Who' printed in the paper is just silly."

"It really isn't as bad as seeing Nargles and Crumple Horned Snorkacks in the paper," muttered Ron.

Luna didn't seem to hear, and turned back to her book.

Silence fell over the compartment once again. After a moment, Ron smiled and reached under his seat, pulling out a tiny chess board.

"Anyone up for a game?" he asked, grinning.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "After winning the war of a lifetime, I'm not too fond of losing again so soon."

"Oh come on," said Ron. "Just one game."

"I'll play," said Luna absently, putting her book down. "Daddy says I'm quite good."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Right, I'm sure," he said (Hermione mouthed, "Don't be rude!"). "Well, if none of them will play, then let's have a go."

"Can I be white?" asked Luna serenely, smoothing out her robes and turning to face Ron. She leaned in close to him and whispered loudly in his ear, "Your black pawns are infested with Grinklers!"

"Umm, right," said Ron awkwardly, dumping out his pieces. "I noticed that too."

Luna pushed her pawn out two spaces and picked up her book. Ron rolled his eyes and moved his piece.

"So what did you do with the stone, Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry turned away from the window. "I dropped it in the forest. Why?"

"You dropped it?" inquired Hermione. "And you left it there?"

"Yes," said Harry. "It's safe there."

"Wait," said Ron. "You left the stone in the forest instead of bringing your parents and Sirius back? There's something wrong with this picture."

Harry shook his head. "The dead like being dead. They don't want to come back."

"You know this how?" asked Ron.

"By talking to them," answered Harry, and he turned back to the window.

Hermione and Ron shared a look. "You what?"

"Before Voldemort killed me, I talked to my parents, Sirius and Dumbledore using the stone," said Harry calmly. "But they don't want to come back."

Hermione gasped. "What did they say?"

"Nothing much," said Harry. "Just that they'll be with me."

"As comforting as that is, it's a bit freaky," Ron commented. "Do you think they're here right now?"

"Thanks Ron," said Harry. "Now I'll be paranoid whenever I'm in the loo. You're the best."

"That's what friends are for," said Ron, winking.

Harry glanced at Hermione. She was smiling at him.

"Checkmate!" announced Luna.

"Impossible," muttered Ron, looking down at the board.

Harry and Hermione shared an equally shocked look, then turned to watch. Ron was frozen.

"Don't worry about it Ronald," said Luna, smiling. "I know you were just going easy on a girl." And she swept out of the room.

"Looks like you've met your match," Harry said, grinning.

Ron growled. "Wanker."

Author's Note:

Sorry for the long wait. Over the past month I have gotten a new job, moved to college and adjusted to college life. Free time has been a dream, with only enough time in a day to get a few lines written. However, though my keyboard has had little use, my mind has had quite the opposite. The plotline has matured much over the past few weeks and I cannot wait to pump out the next few chapters.

Thanks for all of your excellent reviews. I hope the quality of my writing hasn't fallen in the long absence.

It's good to be back.

Looking Back

Chapter 2

Sounds of farewells filled the air and hugs were exchanged all around as the train pulled to a stop. Everyone was smiling and making last minute promises to get together - everyone except Harry. He had walked off the train with Hermione, Ron and Luna, and had at once been left on his own. Ron and Hermione had taken off to somewhere by the exit and Luna had faded into the background. Meanwhile, Harry sat on a bench and closed his eyes, trying to drown out the commotion.

He had long become accustomed to seeing Cedric and Sirius and Fred, Tonks and Lupin, Dumbledore and Snape, Hedwig and his parents as he closed his eyes. But it was different now. He had seen them, spoken to them, understood them. It didn't make his insides tighten anymore, or squelch all his hope, or stir up feelings of anger. Now that he knew, he was content.

It had been a shocking revelation, when it was all over, that he had been fighting for everyone who had died. He hadn't been fighting for his future or for the futures of humanity, for the greater good. All of it had been for those who had died. And in the midst of it he had forgotten that life went on after the fight was over.

Even more unsettling was the empty feeling that had settled over him. He had nothing to look forward to; he had no goals, no aspirations, no dreams. It all seemed blasé. His entire world had been about winning the war and avenging the deaths of those who had died trying. His purpose was gone.

Harry looked up, noticing that Ginny was sitting next to him, fully engrossed in a conversation.

"...then we can visit Muggle London - dad will love it - and maybe watch a film. I've always wanted to try the restaurants, too, and go shopping. Mum and dad have never had enough money, but now that their identities have been revealed, the Ministry has given them both small fortunes for bonuses. Perhaps you can find a hobby to keep you busy. What do you think?"

Harry blinked. "Are you talking to me?"

"Merlin, did you hear any of that?" asked Ginny exasperatedly. "Was I talking to myself?"

"That's a distinct possibility," said Harry slowly.

"Men," grumbled Ginny. "So do you want to stay or not?"

"What?" asked Harry, confused.

"Stay at our house," clarified Ginny. "Mum and dad already said you could."

The idea was far from appealing. Harry could think of nothing worse than telling Ginny every day for months that he wasn't ready to go out with her. No, that would be torture.

"I would, but I already have plans," and I would rather live at the Leaky Cauldron, finished Harry in his head.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Already have plans? I thought you were still looking."

"No, I've found a place," Harry said, looking around for an excuse to leave.

"Where?" probed Ginny.

"Hermione invited me to her house. I'm staying there until I can find a flat."

Ginny's eyes slanted. "You're living with Hermione alone?"

"For a few months."

"A few months?" Ginny said loudly. "I don't think so. You're my boyfriend, remember?"

"Hermione and I are adults," said Harry, standing up. Ginny did not like his answer. "Just because you're an adult doesn't mean you aren't male."

"And just because I'm living in the same house as Hermione doesn't mean I'm going to take advantage of her," said Harry, raising his voice. "She's practically my sister."

"And what am I?" pressed Ginny angrily.

Harry turned around and began to walk away. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Don't you leave me," Harry heard faintly behind him as he pushed his way into the crowd. He ignored it and began searching for Hermione and Ron - it was time to get out of this place. All the way across the station he saw them standing by the door.

Ron was red in the face and had one hand fumbling around with something in his pocket. He didn't seem to notice Hermione waiting expectantly, but patiently, for him.

"Hey, what's up you two?" asked Harry loudly, stepping up to them.

Hermione shot him a death glare while Ron visibly relaxed.

"Just talking," Ron said. "What about you?"

"I don't know," Harry replied honestly. "Not well. With all these funerals to attend…" he said morbidly.

"Yeah," said Ron firmly, setting his jaw and staring straight ahead. "Funerals. I nearly forgot."

Hermione glanced concernedly between Ron and Harry. After a short silence she said, "They would want us to live. Isn't that why we all fought?"

Ron took a deep breath and nodded, but still stared stonily ahead. But Harry couldn't agree. He still couldn't figure out why he had fought.

"Hey, Ron," said Harry, trying to change the subject. "I found a place to stay this summer, but I want your approv-"

"You have it," Ron responded, cutting him off. "I would even go with you, but I've got to stay home with the family."

"Of course," Harry said, memories of his mother and father floating into his mind.

They stood silently for a moment, Ron staring morbidly at the ground. Hermione reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly.

And suddenly there seemed to be a gap between Harry and his friends. He hadn't moved and neither had they, but the distance between them had multiplied tenfold. It finally hit home; they were no longer the trio - now it was Ron and Hermione - and then there was Harry.

“I'll just be waiting outside then,” said Harry, scratching his forehead. “Right.” He looked around a few times and then made his way through the train station and out the front doors.

The slight breeze and sunlight washed over Harry as he stepped out from under the overhang near the door. For one brief moment he let himself forget everything and just exist. But it didn't last long, for almost immediately he heard a squeaky man's voice shout his name from behind him.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter,” repeated the voice.

Harry turned around to see a short, bumbling wizard who seemed to have no care for Muggle attire, hustling towards him from the train station. The man's face was round and his smile appeared to be plastered on his face. His long purple robes looked odd even in the wizarding world.

“Can I help you?” asked Harry, checking around to make sure there was no Muggle company.

“Most definitely,” assured the man, smiling even more broadly.

They stood for a good minute, the man grinning madly, until Harry broke the silence.

“Well?” he inquired.

“Bramwell Briggs,” stated the man, extending his hand. “Ministry of Magic, Head of Unspeakables.”

Harry skeptically shook the man's hand. “Harry Potter.”

“As we all know,” said the man, winking. “Now down to business. In light of the recent Dark Lord events, the Minister has decided to restructure; it was failing anyways, as you could see. He is reforming the defense - hold on a moment?” He flicked his wand over his head in a wide sweeping arc, a trail of purple sparks trailing behind it. “—silencing charm—do you mind if I Obliviate you?”

Harry raised both eyebrows. The man was surely mad. “What?”

“If you don't accept what I'm about to offer you, I'll have to Oblivate you,” clarified Briggs.

“Well I don't—”

“Well, now, it won't matter if you say `yes' or `no,' since you won't remember once I Obliviate you,” said Briggs, chuckling.

“What? Once you—”

“Worry not, my boy,” Briggs said. “I'm just asking you if you want to be a part of the new defense program.”

“But you haven't explained—”

“Of course not!” erupted Briggs. “Here, in a public place? Are you daft?” Briggs' eyes lit up suddenly. “Ah, here she comes now.”

Harry turned to see Hermione walking towards them from the train station. Briggs swished his wand and a purple aura surround her.

“Miss Granger, is it?” asked Briggs. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“It is, and you?” Hermione asked pleasantly.

“Briggs. Bramwell Briggs,” responded the short man happily. “Head of— ”

“Unspeakables. Yes, I know,” finished Hermione. “Dumbledore mentioned you once. Why are you speaking to Harry?” Her demeanor changed immediately to defensive.

Briggs grinned. “I'm offering him a job, Miss Granger. In fact, I was looking for you as well. You see, the Ministry has formed a new defense plan that will more effectively deal with Dark Lords and similar mass rebellion. Both of you are perfect for the positions.”

“What exactly is the job description?” asked Hermione suspiciously.

“Not here,” Briggs said quietly. “We'll have to go somewhere safe. We can't Apparate, but we can use this Ministry Portkey.”

As Briggs fumbled around in his pocket, Harry's attention was suddenly taken by a tall figure in black robes pushing his way through the crowd emerging from the train station. The man was walking quickly towards them, though his face was turned down towards the ground.

Harry turned his attention back to Briggs, who was now actively strip-searching himself, but he kept one eye on the approaching figure.

“A Portkey, Mr. Briggs? How do we know we can trust you?” asked Hermione.

“You can tell, Miss Granger. I'm sure of it,” responded Briggs. “Aha! Found it.” He hoisted a large silver coin out of an inner pocket of his robe. “If you would both lay your hands on the seal.”

“Well, I suppose I've already given farewells to everyone,” said Hermione skeptically. “You should speak to Ron before you leave, Harry.”

“We'll see each other in a couple hours,” Harry said nonchalantly.

Briggs coughed. “I don't have much time - busy day, you know? Are you coming or not?”

Harry narrowed both eyes. “Does `not going' involve getting Obliviated?”

“Of course,” Briggs said, grinning.

Harry waited for Hermione to make the first move. Their eyes met. Apparently she was waiting for him. He grinned and lifted his hand. Hermione smiled back, and together they grasped the seal.

Moments later, Harry slammed feet first into a hard, tile floor. Hermione nearly toppled over, but Harry grabbed her arm and steadied her.

Briggs motioned for them to follow him. “This way.”

They were in a long, wide hall with a single slanted wall instead of a ceiling. Lining the top were massive slits running the entire height of the wall and showering the floor with various patterns of sunlight. Briggs ushered them through a large black door at the end.

They entered a medium sized office with a large mahogany desk in the center, squeezed in on both sides by packed bookcases. Behind it was a huge plushy chair, all black and silhouetted in front of a low, but tall window.

“Take a seat,” Briggs said, indicating the two chairs in front of his desk. He sat down on the other side.

“What's this all about,” asked Harry, immediately sitting down.

“Quite frankly, Aurors aren't working,” Briggs responded bluntly. For once his smile was gone. “The balance of power in the Ministry is too lopsided - the Minister has too much direct power over the Aurors. If his position is ever challenged, the country's defense is cut off.

“We have been considering alternative forms of government. At first we looked at splitting power between political groups, but then the disputes and procedure would halt any productivity. A democratic government was also considered, but with the corruption in the media, we would degrade and eventually collapse from the inside. Instead, we decided on a combination: seven leaders, all formidable wizards, the best of their time, ruling together, each with an equal share of power.

“The Minister would still lead, but the seven would have the power to override the Minister's decisions, and would announce them to the public. They would be trained intensely and perpetually in logic, magic, history and fitness. They would be public symbols - idols - models for society.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Is this a joke?”

“I'm afraid not,” said Briggs grimly.

“So you're saying you want us to be part of these seven leaders?” inquired Harry, already hating the idea.

Briggs nodded. “You are both highly respected already, and as Dumbledore informed us many times, highly qualified.”

“Hermione is,” Harry said. “But I'm just an average Wizard with a lot of luck. I know that sounds odd, but I'm not all that I'm cut out to be, really.”

“Harry!” Hermione said, her eyes widening. “You're an excellent Wizard.”

“Please - Voldemort was a better Wizard than me - Dumbledore, too, and Snape,” said Harry. “You're triple my ability. That whole battle was dumb luck.”

Hermione was about to respond, but Briggs waved her down. “Despite what you think, Mr. Potter, your family has a long history of excellent Wizards and Witches. From what I hear, you learned a Patronus in your third year at Hogwarts, yes?”

“Yes, but,” started Harry.

“Let me explain something to you. I have been working in the Department of Mysteries for three times as long as you've been alive, and in all that time I've learned quite a bit about magic. You, at the age of thirteen, showed a higher magic than most grown wizards. That limit continually increases as long as you are alive. Mr. Potter, I would not be surprised if you are the most powerful Wizard alive.”

“I'm honored, really,” said Harry disbelievingly. “But I haven't noticed anything.”

“You have nothing to compare it to,” said Briggs. “Maybe you haven't tried as hard as your classmates.”

“Of course I did,” Harry said. “It doesn't matter, really. I don't want to do this anyways. Thanks for the offer.” He stood up and held out his hand.

Briggs sighed. “Please, just think about it.” He stood up and shook Harry's hand. “And you, Miss Granger?”

Hermione stared sadly at Harry. “We'll see. How long do we have to decide?”

Briggs tapped his desk and a small calendar popped out of it. He studied it for a moment, then said, “One week should do it - before Friday at noon.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said, shaking Briggs' hand. “How should we contact you?”

Briggs grinned. “Don't worry about that. We'll contact you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione said. “Now how do we get home?”

“A Portkey has been arranged - it will take you to your home. Mr. Potter, we heard will be staying with you.” Briggs slipped his hand into his pocket and held out a familiar looking coin.

“Right,” said Hermione. “He will. Thanks again.”

Harry glanced at Hermione, furious, for some reason, at Briggs. She read his eyes like a book and shook her head.

“Let's go, Harry,” she said firmly.

Harry leveled his head and stepped towards Briggs. “Good bye, sir, and thank you.”

Briggs nodded, and together, Harry and Hermione grasped the Portkey.

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Author's Note:

Thanks for all of the reviews! I love reading all of your encouragement, and, of course, my blunders. This chapter is a bit fun, lots of plot and some H/Hr.

Without further ado…

Looking Back

Chapter 3

Hermione's house was, at first glance, an average size condo. One hall, in which Harry stood, ran through the center of the house; at one end was the kitchen, and at the other was the front door. An open staircase ran up the right side and a large chandelier hung from the ceiling.

“Just an average Wizard?” came Hermione's voice, sweeter than usual. “If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were full of it, but unfortunately you believed every word of the rubbish you just spewed.”

Harry sighed. “It doesn't really matter. Where am I sleeping?” He glanced around him and saw that his belongings had magically appeared at his feet.

Hermione ignored him. “Doesn't matter? Thinking less of yourself doesn't matter? Crediting your triumph over Voldemort to luck doesn't matter? Throwing off your accomplishments doesn't matter? You must think you're Britain's biggest con-artist, fooling everyone into believing you actually have talent. I don't think so. The only person you're fooling is yourself.”

“I haven't fooled anyone,” said Harry, shaking his head. “They read everything in the papers - you know how skewed the Prophet is - and make their own ideas. Honestly, Hermione, think about it. Everything I've done could just as easily have been done by someone else.”

“So you think all of it was dumb luck?” Hermione persisted.

“Yes!” Harry said, his forehead beginning to heat. “It was. Now where's my room?”

“Felix Felicius,” stated Hermione.

Harry stopped. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Liquid luck,” said Hermione, grinning triumphantly. “It's a potion.”

“I know that,” said Harry. “So what?”

“You said you've just been lucky. Luck is magic.”

“That's absurd,” said Harry, rolling his eyes. “Please take me to my room.” He pushed open the first door and peered in.

Hermione stepped in front of him. “Is it, really? Why did Dumbledore have so much faith in you? Why did he bring you to get the Horcrux?”

“Because he made a mistake,” snapped Harry. “He was going to die anyways.”

“No! Because you were good luck!” corrected Hermione. “Your magic is controlled by your mind. That's how liquid luck works! It binds your magic to your unconscious will. The smallest urges are performed as tasks by your magic.”

“Okay, Hermione, you're right,” conceded Harry monotonically. “Can I unpack now?”

“Do you think you're a naturally talented seeker? Is that genetic, do you think?” continued Hermione, ignoring him again.

“Sure, whatever,” said Harry, peering into the next room and again being blocked.

“You never really thought much about flying, did you?”

“No, not really,” said Harry, going for the last door.

Hermione was still grinning. “Flying is all about unconscious magic taking over. Why do you think young students usually find it so difficult to learn?”

“Because they're dense,” Harry said as Hermione stepped in front of the last door and grasped the door handle behind her back.

“I don't think so,” Hermione said, then shrieked as Harry wrapped his arms around her, grasped her wrists and spun her around.

He lowered his mouth so close to her ear lips were covered in her hair. “You can explain all you want, but I won't believe a word you say until my super magic powers lead me to my room.” He let go of her hands and stood with both hands planted on the wall on both sides of her head.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, then smiled. “Upstairs, first room on the right. This conversation is not over.”

“You're the best,” said Harry, winking. He ruffled her hair (“Hey!” exclaimed Hermione) and turned around, grabbing his bags and making his way upstairs.

At the top of the staircase was a hall running from the left side of the house to the far right. Both sides of the hall ended in a door, and just to the left of the stairs was the bathroom, which Harry could see through the slight opening.

Without waiting for Hermione, Harry pushed open the first door to his right. He nearly dropped his trunk down the stairs at the sight. The room was square with bright pink walls and a walk-in closet with folding white doors. At the far corner was a mound of stuffed animals - mostly bears and dogs - and in the center of the room was a twin-size bed with an ornate frame, frilly comforters and a tiny, hot-pink pillow with white trim resting neatly at the top.

“Hermione!” shouted Harry, staring wide-eyed, unable to force himself through the opening. “You said the first room on the right?”

Hermione's bright laugh carried clearly down the hall and upstairs. In a few moments she appeared at the bottom, a wide grin on her face. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, actually,” said Harry. “It seems that someone broke into your house while you were gone and outfitted your guestroom with girly décor.”

“Hmm,” said Hermione, barely holding back her laughter. “I think it looks nice, actually.”

Harry stared disbelievingly at her. “Nice if I was eleven years old and female, sure.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. She pushed Harry forward into the room, then stepped back and watched as her stared morbidly around from the inside. “See,” she said, chuckling. “It isn't that bad.”

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Harry said.

“Make sure you don't vomit all over the pretty pink bedding,” responded Hermione, pulling open the doors to the closet. “And if you happen to need a dress, we've got a whole roomful.”

“Excellent,” Harry said sarcastically. “Now I can fulfill all of my cross dressing fantasies.”

“Remind me to knock,” said Hermione.

Harry flipped open his trunk and, with a swish of his wand, launched his clothes into the open closet, catching Hermione in the face with a white t-shirt. She peeled it away and tossed it on top of the heap in the closet.

She shook her head. “You really should learn how to unpack neatly.”

“You should learn how to paint a room,” Harry retorted.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “This was my old room - we didn't change it because it has sentimental value.”

“Why did you move to a new room?” asked Harry.

Hermione laughed. “Because I couldn't stand the colors.”

“See! I knew it!” Harry exclaimed in triumph.

* *

All guys were jerks as far as Ginny was concerned. Harry was no exception - in fact, he was the most frustrating of them all. He was hers - all hers - and then he had to go off and fight in the war. And finally, when it was all over, he came up with a lame excuse as to why he didn't want to get back together again.

Now he was bunking with her brother's girlfriend and he didn't say good bye when he left. Something was terribly wrong.

Yet the feeling was not unfamiliar - she was right back in school, first year and up, dreaming again that Harry would notice her and hold her close. But now it was ten times worse since she knew what it felt like. She had to get him back.

“Lean back,” said a voice directly behind Ginny. She spun around in her seat on the edge of her bed. Ron was sitting on the other side.

“Come on - you look stressed,” said Ron, indicating for Ginny to turn back around. She did, and leaned back into Ron's hands.

They sat in silence for a moment, Ron kneading the tension out of Ginny's shoulders, which she could not deny was quite soothing. It had been a long day.

“What do you think they're doing?” Ginny mused, staring lazily at the ceiling.

“I don't know,” said Ron quietly.

“Do you trust them?” asked Ginny, turning to see Ron's face.

It was impassive. “Absolutely.”

Ginny frowned. “You don't wonder at all? The way he was looking at her today - I just don't get him sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ron, now frowning slightly. “He wouldn't do anything, not to Hermione.”

Ginny sighed. “You're probably right. I keep thinking of them as average teenagers, but they're long time best friends. They wouldn't risk breaking that up.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, staring absently ahead.

It was then that Ginny had a positively brilliant idea - so simple, yet so effective. She could ensure, with only a few words, that Harry and Hermione stayed apart. She shook her head and smiled. How had she not though of this before?

“Ron, do you mind if I ask you something personal?” asked Ginny, grinning slyly.

“That depends,” said Ron, eyes narrowed.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Do you love Hermione?”

“Of course,” said Ron, taken aback.

“When are you going to pop the question?”

“What question?” asked Ron.

“Marriage, Ron,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes again.

The idea seemed to brighten Ron's features. A small smile crept onto his face. “I don't know Ginny, but soon, I think. I just have to find the perfect ring, and find out what Hermione's favorite restaurant is.”

This was more perfect than Ginny had expected. “Oh! That's just wonderful! If you need any help, I could offer a girl's opinion. I know exactly what Hermione would want.”

“You do?” asked Ron stupidly. “Really?”

“Of course,” said Ginny, as if she was insulted that he asked. “We talk about that sort of stuff all the time - you know, weddings and families and fashion.”

“Fashion?” repeated Ron, eyes wide open. “Hermione talks about fashion?”

“Yes, Ronald, fashion,” said Ginny, grinning.

“Right,” said Ron, grinning. “Now how about this ring?”

* *

At that very moment, Hermione was laying flat on Harry's bed with her face propped up in her hands. “So tell me,” she said to Harry, who was folding his clothes, due to much of Hermione's encouraging, “What's happening with you and Ginny?”

“Nothing,” said Harry, tossing a folded shirt into his new dresser.

“You can't do that, you know,” Hermione informed Harry. “It's rude.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” said Harry.

“I'm serious, Harry,” said Hermione. “She's in love with you. How would you feel if you were in love with her and she told you to wait?”

Harry looked up at Hermione and stared into her eyes for a moment. “Don't know. I don't feel much of anything anymore.”

“Sure you do,” Hermione said, tilting her head. “Everyone feels something. You're the most caring person I know. You must feel a lot.”

“Maybe, I guess,” said Harry doubtfully. “But I'm different now. I can't really explain it.”

“Try,” urged Hermione.

Harry sighed. “Alright, imagine you just broke up with Ron, and then imagine that you didn't care at all.”

“That's terrible,” said Hermione. “You didn't explain anything.”

“Okay, imagine someone just stabbed you, and you're going to die, but you don't really care. You feel the pain, but you don't understand why you should care that you're about to die. You just accept it because it's happening.”

“Harry…” said Hermione stepping off the bed and approaching him from the side. “That is so sad.” She knelt beside him and stared at Harry face.

He was determinedly looking at the clothes he was folding. “I suppose,” he said dully. “I just don't get it. Everything was supposed to be perfect after the war. Of course we have to heal, but I didn't expect anything like this. In fact, I expected the opposite. I just don't—did you hear that?”

Harry stood up suddenly and made his way over to the window. The sun had just disappeared behind the trees on the horizon, and the front yard was cloaked in darkness. But just in front of the door, against the stone path, Harry could make out the forms of five hooded figures, all clothed in black.

“Hermione, do you have an attic?” asked Harry, spinning around, his face hardened, and his voice deep and businesslike.

“Yes, why?” answered Hermione.

“Go there. Now,” ordered Harry.

“Why? What's going on?” asked Hermione, following Harry as he exited the room.

Harry turned around and glared into Hermione's eyes. “There are five people at the front door. I'm going to check it out. Stay hidden.”

“No!” said Hermione in a hushed whisper. “I'm just as capable as you. I can handle myself. We're doing this together.”

As the last word came out of her mouth, the front doorknob clicked and it turned to the side. Then the door swung open ever so slowly and someone stepped in the front hall. One by one, the other four follow behind.

Harry pulled his head back slowly, so as to not attract attention. He immediately rounded on Hermione and pointed directly down the hall.

She shook her head.

Looking frustrated, Harry snapped his wrist and his wand slipped out of the holster in his sleeve and into his hand. He slowly made his way back to the staircase, Hermione close behind.

Silence.

Then Hermione heard it - a shuffle on the carpet, only a few steps from the top. From the way Harry tensed, Hermione guessed he heard it, too.

Ever so slowly, a hand appeared around the corner. Harry spun—and turned his wand on Hermione. She looked down in astonishment as she was shoved backwards, unable to move, and Harry's invisibility cloak fell on top of her.

The spell hadn't caused a noise, but the intruder on the stairs hollered out loud and there was commotion downstairs. Harry leaped out by the top of the stair case and fired two quick curses, before landing in a roll on the other side. He pressed himself inside of a doorframe, wand held high.

The wall beside him exploded, and two of the men reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the explosion. Hermione could only watch helplessly as Harry prepared himself to meet his five adversaries.

“Lumos,” Hermione heard, and a bright light filled the hall. “There he is!”

“But where's the girl?” came a gruff voice from further down the stairs.

“I don't—” he began, but was cut off as a stunner struck him in the face.

Three more men appeared at the top of the stairs and began spraying spells down the hall towards Harry, who was still pressed firmly in the doorframe.

But then another man appeared at the top of the staircase. His hood was not up and his hair was long and bright white. In his right and left hands were wands, twice as long as normal and both dark red.

He turned around and stared directly at Hermione, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Miss Granger,” he said. Then he turned back towards the men, who had just noticed his presence, and he snapped his arms up above his head with his fists turned outwards and his wands pointing directly forward.

He swung both arms down and across and seemed to cut the air, leaving two trails of fire from the tips. There was a blinding flash, and the four men were laying on the ground, knocked out cold.

The man turned to Hermione again. “It's a pity we had to meet under such circumstances. Excuse me, I was rude. My name is Bryce White, second of the Seven, and it's a pleasure to meet you.”

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Author's Note:

I felt bad about writing a cliffy, so here's the next installment. This is a slow chapter, but I'm not writing this in any standard format. Also, there seemed to be some confusion about what happened in the last chapter, so hopefully this clears it up.

There isn't a cliffy in this one either, so it's a good stopping point.

Disclaimer:

I don't have a beta. Anything weird is due to my scatterbrained attempt at writing and incomplete knowledge of the Harry Potter universe.

Looking Back

Chapter 4

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “It does look quite tacky.”

“Rather unattractive,” added Bryce thoughtfully.

Hermione gawked at them. “It's a hole. And it's in the side of my bedroom. This is not funny.”

Harry grinned. “On the contrary…”

“You shut your mouth,” snapped Hermione, glaring at him. “I'll deal with you later.” She turned to Bryce. “Why don't we head downstairs to talk? I have a few butterbeers in the fridge.”

“That would be excellent, ma'am,” said Bryce, smiling.

“It's just down the stairs, up the hall and last door on the left. If you don't mind, I want to have a word with Harry first,” Hermione said.

“Not at all,” Bryce said, and he swept away down the steps.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Hermione rounded on Harry and glared furiously at him. “Never do that again.”

“What?” asked Harry, baffled.

“Never toss me aside like a useless child during a battle. Never.” Hermione said angrily. “Now let's greet our guest.” She spun on her heel and headed down the stairs, Harry following close behind.

Upon entering the kitchen, Hermione headed to the refrigerator and Harry sat at the table, opposite to Bryce. When all three were seated, Hermione began.

“So what brings you here?” asked Hermione, taking a sip of her drink.

“Briggs,” said Bryce. “He wanted me to meet the other members of the Seven. Normally, I don't barge into peoples' houses, but the door was already open and I heard loud noises from inside. You understand, I hope.”

“Of course,” said Hermione, smiling. “We're quite grateful. I don't know what you did back there, but it was impressive. Two wands? I've never seen that. Are you foreign?”

Bryce smirked. “I have been around.”

“Interesting,” Hermione remarked. “You keep saying `the Seven.' You're referring to Briggs' project, I assume?”

“Correct.”

“What do you think of it?” asked Hermione.

“The British Ministry is one of the most corrupt I have seen. Any change is a good change. It cannot get much worse. And I have seen their Auror department. It is pitiful. They are slow and uneducated in professional combat. I am helping here to share my knowledge and to obtain more knowledge from the other six and their trainers. The British government is of no importance to me,” said Bryce.

Hermione raised both eyebrows. “I've never heard it put that way.”

“No,” said Bryce. Then he turned to Harry. “You do not speak much. Why?”

“Because I don't have anything to say,” said Harry simply.

Bryce stared at him, then, after a moment, said, “Good man.” He looked down at his watch. “I am very sorry, but I must be leaving now. It was a pleasure to meet both of you, and Hermione,” he stood up and faced her, “be nice.”

She glared at Harry. “I'll try.”

Bryce smiled, shook his head, and with a spin and a pop he was gone.

Harry turned and looked quizzically at Hermione. “What did he mean?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “If you ever, ever pull such an idiotic, moronic stunt like that again, I will never speak to you again.”

“What?” asked Harry frantically. “What do you mean? What did I do?”

“You cast a body-bind and threw your invisibility cloak on me during a fight. All because of your heroic tendencies, you gave up your element of surprise, gave away your position, and put yourself on the defensive. Not only that, you treated me like a child. I am perfectly capable of holding my own - we just fought side by side against Voldemort; you should know that. The only thing that saved you was dumb luck, or in other words, Bryce.”

Harry stood up. “I didn't want you to get hurt. It's my job to protect you - that's what friends do. It has nothing to do with you being incapable. It has to do with me wanting to protect my friends. It's not heroics; it's decency.”

“Decency? Are you daft? That's idiocy. You cut your chances of winning in half. And what about you? What do you think I would do if you died or got hurt? Well, I'd probably curse you for being you, but only shortly. You have no idea how it feels to be useless and watch someone you care about get hurt. It's terrible,” ranted Hermione.

“Yes I do,” said Harry gravely. “And at the time it was horrible, but had it not happened I wouldn't be here today.”

“Don't even bring that up,” Hermione shot back. “Dumbledore knew he was going to die, and he knew if you fought you were going to die. This was entirely different. We could have taken those five intruders easily if we were together. But you almost got yourself killed by halving the odds.”

“And I would do it again,” said Harry right back.

“Get out,” said Hermione, standing up and pointing at the door. “I really don't want to talk to you right now.”

“That was fast,” said Harry.

“Well I'm not going to put up with you being insufferable. Come back when you've grown up.”

“Fine,” said Harry. “If that's what you want then let me get my trunk and I'll be out of your way.”

“Fine,” said Hermione, storming angrily out of the room.

Harry waited a moment, then headed up to his room and began throwing his clothes back into his trunk. He took all of his pictures and albums off the dresser and placed them on top, taking only one brief look at his picture of him and Hermione, then stuffing it down to the bottom. Looking around one last time, he slammed his trunk shut and dragged it loudly down the front steps.

As he went through the door and reached the end of the walkway, he heard Hermione's voice call out behind him.

“Harry, wait. Where are you going to stay?” asked Hermione, a small bit of concern discernable in her voice.

Without turning, Harry said, “I don't know.”

“You're coming back, right?”

Harry paused. “I don't know.”

“Harry…”

But her words were only heard by the empty space where he had been standing.

* *

It was only an hour later, but Hermione was already worried. She hadn't expected him to take her seriously. And she had no idea where he was or what he was going to do.

It was time to call Ron. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and knelt by her fireplace, tossing it in. “The Burrow.”

She stuck her head in the fire and looked around. In a few seconds, Ron appeared in the doorway n his pajamas. He looked surprised for a moment then walked over, kneeling beside Hermione.

“What brings you here?” he asked amusedly.

“Do you know where Harry is?” she asked.

“Right to business, I see,” said Ron, grinning. “He was just here, but he left a moment ago. He had to get something of his. What went on over there? He looked pretty put out.”

“We were just attacked a moment ago, and Harry put a body bind on me. He tried to take them out by himself, and I yelled at him after and told him to leave.”

Ron's eyes widened. “Harry didn't mention any of that. Are you hurt?”

“No, but Harry almost was. Some guy showed up and helped him out. When he left I yelled at Harry and he left.”

“Well you did tell him to leave,” reminded Ron.

“I know!” said Hermione in frustration. “Did he tell you anything when he was there? I'm going to go look for him.”

“No, he didn't tell me anything,” Ron said. “He wasn't very talkative. But I really don't think you need to go looking for him. He's a grown man. He can handle himself.”

The words came back with a bite. “Yeah,” she said. “You're right. I'm just worried is all. He's been acting weird for the past week. Like a few hours ago, he tried explaining that he didn't care if he died, and that he didn't feel anything at all. That isn't Harry.”

“He has lost a lot, Hermione,” consoled Ron. “I can't even imagine what it would be like to graduate, finish the greatest battle in the history of magic, and have no one to go home to. He doesn't have anyone.”

“Except us,” corrected Hermione, feeling sicker with every word.

“Well, technically, me, since you just kicked him out,” Ron said, grinning.

“Thanks a lot Ron. That really helps. I think I'll go cry now.”

Ron shook his head. “I'm just joking, Hermione. He'll be back. Don't worry.”

“I hope so,” said Hermione. “I wasn't very nice.”

Ron sighed. “Can you explain why you kicked him out again?”

“I told him that he was a complete prat for putting a body bind on me in the middle of a fight, and he said that he would do it again. I just… lost it, I guess. If he ever tries that again, I really don't know what I would do.”

“So you got pissed off at him for doing his best to save your life. That's understandable,” said Ron thoughtfully.

“He was saving my life and killing himself!” shouted Hermione. “And my life didn't need saving.”

“Hey, don't get mad at me,” said Ron, backing away. “But remind me to thank Harry. If you had gotten hurt I would have killed him with my bare hands.”

“Don't you start, too,” warned Hermione. “Look, I'm going to go now. I know Harry isn't in any trouble, but I'm still worried sick. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright, Hermione. But hey, wait. Where do you like to eat?” asked Ron suddenly.

Hermione tilted her head. “My favorite is Marios - it's a small Italian place in southern London. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” said Ron, smiling. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you,” said Hermione, and she pulled her head out of the fire.

Back in the Burrow, Ginny stepped out from behind the door frame. “That was smooth Ron, real smooth,” she said. “Now let's go find Harry.”

* *

To say Harry was merely confused would have been an understatement. He was walking down the road outside the Burrow with no idea what to do or where he was going. His visit to Ron's house had not been productive, and he couldn't think of a place to go where Hermione wouldn't find him. He did not want to speak to her.

It had been thirty minutes since he had left and he couldn't see the Burrow behind him anymore. He couldn't actually see anything anymore—anything except the long dirt road ahead of him and scattered trees on the side. If he remembered correctly, there was a town only a mile down after the bend.

Maybe he could find a bar and get hammered. That would solve his problems.

He cursed out loud. That would not solve his problems in the least. The last thing he needed was to be homeless and inebriated. No, he had to find a place to stay, maybe a hotel.

Ten minutes passed, in which Harry saw no cars, no people, no animals, and barely felt a gust of wind. But in the distance he could now see, if he squinted his eyes, a small town and a smokestack rising towards the sky.

Success.

He began to walk faster, but then heard another pair of footsteps in sync with his own. He turned around abruptly and saw none other than Luna Lovegood trailing behind him.

“Luna!” he said, relief washing over him. “What are you doing?”

“I was following you,” she said airily.

“Thank Merlin,” exclaimed Harry. “I have no idea where I am.”

“That's nice,” said Luna, smiling. “I know where you are.”

Harry folded his hands and grinned. “You're a lifesaver. Do you know where the closest hotel is?”

Luna thought for a moment. “Yes.”

Harry waited patiently. “Well? Where is it?”

“Just down the street. But why don't you stay at my place? I have a flat in the town at the bottom of the hill. I don't get very many visitors, so I don't mind.”

“Luna,” said Harry, shaking his head, “you're the best. Remind me to make this up to you.”

“No problem, Harry. Anything for a friend.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Anything.”

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