Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related terms and characters are the property of JK Rowling. The use of copyrighted material is for non-profit entertainment purposes only, and in no way constitutes a challenge to the existing copyright.

A/N: Sorry about the delay; this chapter nearly destroyed me to write -- too many conjoining plotlines sometimes ruin the story. This is the heavily edited and chopped down final version: 17000 words of stuff that I couldn't leave out, and that's after removing a lot of crap. If there's an editing issue or two, please forgive me, as I'm posting this on a time limit - I'll correct anything monstrous next update. Those looking for a few good fights will enjoy next chapter, which will be coming soon.

Thanks to all that reviewed! I enjoy answering people, so keep them coming!

~TOW

YEAR 2: Home and Castle, Part 1

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So many things happened in 1992 and 1993; Quirrel was just the tip of the iceberg. This was the year that the entire world flipped upside down, and I was right in the middle of the spin cycle. It hurts to recall this year. Despite all the good things that happened, remembering this year is like being kicked in the nuts repeatedly with spiked boots. Most of the good things happened before Christmas '92, so I'll cover those first.

I had my first "pureblood" moment at the Dursleys' on the very first day there. After ten months of never having to worry about wiping yourself or hygiene in general, using toilet paper to push shit around your arse just felt... filthy. I missed the luxuries of Hogwarts and of the magic world in general. I suppose the Dursleys wouldn't consider some of them luxuries, but I bet I could sell my Aunt on a wizard's lavatory pretty quickly.

My aunt, uncle, and cousin were quick to forget about me, and I was more than happy to return the favor. I had more than enough money in my pocket to see me through the summer and more available if I needed it. I'm sure that everyone in the neighborhood mourned the loss of their cheap yard labor, but I was certainly not going to work if I didn't have to.

My summer freedom got me thinking about a future career as a wizard. It was obvious that they held jobs and that some, like Aurors or pro Quidditch players, were exciting and physical enough to hold my interests. The goblins had left me under the impression that looking for a job was not going to be the most pressing thing in the world, though; having money really does take the tension out of life.

I spent the first couple of days getting food and other necessities for my room, and looking around my old stomping grounds. The kids I knew were surprised and happy to see that I was taking good care of myself, and seemed to have come into some real money. These kids weren't exactly friends, but we all knew each other from school and hanging out at the mall, and any one of us that ended up with a better life was a cause for celebration. For some of them, it meant a new foster home and a decent set of parents. For others, it meant acceptance into a gang and the money and protection that came with organized crime. I thankfully avoided both sticky scenarios, courtesy of my parents and Dumbledore.

The more I thought about it, the happier I became with Dumbledore's decision to leave me be. He set me up to be independent from the moment I hit the wizarding world; I had the knowledge of how to take care of myself and the money to do it; I had the common sense to watch my spending and a survival streak that comes from having to take care of your own needs. A large chunk of this was also my Occlumency: Kids gloss over or forget details that adults know are important to catch; it's one of the defining characteristics of adulthood. As an adult you catch subtleties in social situations, and display patience in your day-to-day affairs. Courtesy of Occlumency, I had a huge advantage remembering and analyzing things, and a pen-to-paper vocabulary that puts most adults to shame. The patience of adulthood comes to anyone that has ever had to work for a living. Delayed gratification usually means something different to a child; as an adult, you will often delay things as essential as eating for however long is necessary when the situation warrants it, so your concept of what can be delayed is entirely different.

I'm sad to say I was already at that level before I went to Hogwarts.

Enough whining about my life; I found it refreshing to see that there was a level of maturity in wizarding society that was far beyond muggles. Children are expected to know University-grade material by their third and fourth year studies, and are expected to achieve adulthood by completing their OWL exams around the age of 15 -- a medieval holdover on when adulthood can be achieved. If you're a dunce and can't do the OWLs well enough, they force adulthood on you at 17. If you include NEWTs, wizarding children are asked to be a muggle's equivalent of a 25-year-old Masters graduate by the time they're done with their schooling.

Though it was much later in the year when I asked him this, it fits right here: I asked Dumbledore why Occlumency wasn't taught at Hogwarts since it could be used to such a great effect in school. "There would be no point," was his response. "We expect our children to become adults so quickly already in a society where we can live beyond two centuries if we're careful. There are unique circumstances that arise such as yourself and Ms. Granger, but why would we strip others of what little childhood we allow? Let them grow into their power naturally; there is no benefit to society to create super-soldiers out of children, Harry."

Hmm... Exactly the opposite opinion of Voldemort. I understood Dumbledore's position well enough, though: There's just no point in pushing to achieve something early that you'll be expected to achieve later. My testing out of classes would net me a much easier shot at all twelve OWLs, some one-on-one time with Professor Dumbledore, and some extra free time during the school year. Hermione was in it for the OWLs and probably a load of NEWTs. Would it get me anywhere special that normal studies wouldn't have? Probably not, and not any earlier, either. All in all, there wasn't a lot to gain for rushing ahead except avoiding a few years of boredom and getting some direct instruction from Dumbledore. That was more than enough reason for me, but it wouldn't be for most kids. On top of that, any more than one or two students outside the standard curriculum would probably strain their patience to breaking -- but kids don't think about the problems adults have, and I was still a kid as far as that went.

To avoid bothering my relatives, I had a second phone line installed in the house going to my room. Calling Hermione was long-distance, and I wasn't about to come to blows with my uncle about how much time I spent on the phone. My uncle readily agreed with the second line once the phone company assured him that it could be disabled when I was away. With my own phone available, I followed up on my promise, and called Hermione as often as I could. We arranged to meet at Diagon Alley in a few days time, with Hermione still wanting to avoid having me over, and my not wanting to subject her to the Dursleys.

Before I met Hermione, I decided to make my visit to the Weasleys. I made a it a habit never to leave any of my stuff at the Dursleys' besides the furniture, so it was a very empty room that I left behind with everything neatly packed into my tiny cube of a trunk, sitting in my pocket.

The Knight Bus is not a comfortable ride; not at all. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels like 0-200mph with no seat belt should be illegal, but Quidditch had honed my reflexes to the point where I never failed to grab the seat or the rail in time, even if my arms threatened to rip off. I suppose that it's one thing that any muggleborn needs to get used to in the wizarding world: Since broken bones, ruptured organs and other injuries muggles would consider 'severe' are fixed in a matter of moments by wizard Healers, wizards are a lot more lax in terms of personal safety. The Knight Bus and Quidditch are prime examples of that.

Upon getting to the Burrow, I found myself staring at the most haphazardly constructed house I'd ever seen: No symmetry, no obvious means of support, rooms on upper levels built jutting out the sides... Magic obviously kept this place together. There were farm animals out to pasture, and a rather large garden. I could see a tool shed and a small barn from where I was. Mrs. Weasley was working in the garden as I was walking up, and waved to me when she saw me.

"Harry! So good of you to come! You've grown quite a bit since last I've seen you. And your clothes! Are these proper muggle clothes? They look very nice on you. Come in, come in! Ron's been quite anxious to see you." Mrs. Weasley carried on in the way that only a mother could, leading me back to the house.

Before anything else, I asked if their washroom was free to use. "It'll be nice to wash up and feel clean again," I said. "Muggle washrooms just aren't the same."

Their washroom was similar to the one from my room in Hogwarts but there wasn't any fancy charms on the water aside from keeping it pure and removing dirt from your body, so a manual bath was in order. It struck me that luxuries like the Hogwarts showers weren't likely to appeal to the Weasleys, who were obviously quite tight on money. I imagined that the bulk of their money went into supporting their children's education. I never asked, but I assumed that tuition to Hogwarts was quite steep. I remembered from my discussions with Dumbledore that there was some form of financial reward for doing well on OWLs, so I imagined that whatever Bill (their oldest) Charlie (the second oldest) and Percy (the third oldest) got for their OWL awards was filtered back into the pot for the younger Weasleys. It wasn't my place to ask about it, so I just filed those thoughts away for later.

Feeling properly clean again, I chose a simple work robe to wear. It was a light brown, and had my family name in runes embedded in a woven line pattern down the back of the outer robes. It was a little fancy considering where I was, but it was the simplest robe I had, and I was sick of wearing blue jeans.

On my way back down, I saw Ginny in her room, playing with Hedwig. Figuring I'd say hello, I knocked on her doorframe. "Hey, Ginny. Hedwig behaving?"

She looked over and squeaked, nearly dropping Hedwig. She fumbled around for a moment, trying to get Hedwig onto the window sill, and then turned back to me, her face as red as her hair. "H-H-Harry. Um, hi. I-I, um..."

"Are you alright?"

"YES! Yes, I'm fine. Um... how long have you been here?"

"Just got in," I said, smiling. "Ducked into your washroom to knock the Dursleys off of me, and I'm ready to feel like a wizard again. Are you up for showing me around?"

Ginny got this absolutely horrified expression on her face that made me wonder exactly what her brothers had been saying about me. But slowly a small, hesitant smile began to appear. "...Really?" she said quietly, sounding as if I had just told her she'd won something.

"Sure, let's go!" I answered with confidence to mask my confusion. "Hedwig! Coming, girl?"

With a flap of her wings, Hedwig flew over to her favorite perch on my left shoulder, and I let Ginny lead me around to the various parts of the burrow. The inside was simple enough, and while she was showing me the grounds I ran into Ron, Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley, who looked like they were busy throwing small creatures around. Ginny was back to talking non-stop, filling me in on everything to do with the Burrow. She only stopped when Ron broke away from his family and came over to greet me.

"Ron! There are still Gnomes in the garden, we need your help-- oh, hello Harry. Is Ginny showing you around?"

"She was, and was being quite thorough about it," I replied. "Do you all need help? What're you doing?"

In short order, I was informed about Gnome-tossing, and why Gnomes were bad for the garden. Ron and his brothers seemed to have made this a sport, and were comparing the distance they could throw the Gnomes, as well as how dizzy they could make them while spinning.

I hadn't used my magic in three weeks, so I was itching to burn off some energy and have fun. I pushed my magic out into my muscles, feeling the rush of power. I took a Gnome from Mrs. Weasley, who was quite happy to have someone else tossing, and with only a token spin I threw the Gnome as hard as I could. It was barely a speck in the air by the time it landed, quite far from the Weasley property.

"Bloody Hell, Harry--"

"Language, Ron!"

"--How did you do that?" Ron asked, talking right through his mother's rebuke. The twins were looking at me in awe, and Ginny had that 'lost' look on her face again.

"Remember what I told you I did to Quirrel, Ron?" Ron winced, his hands automatically covering his groin. "Yeah, that."

Ginny promptly pestered me for details, so I regaled her (and horrified Mrs. Weasley) with the tale of Quirrel's attempt on the Philosopher's stone, his possession by Voldemort, and my 'answer' to Voldemort's offer of cooperation. The twins were now holding their crotches, too, while Mrs. Weasley just looked shocked.

"You-You attacked--"

"Voldemort, yes. Like I said, I punched him hard in the privates, and it gave me a chance to break the mirror. He went nuts after that, and I'm sure that if it weren't for my mother's protection, I'd be dead. As it was, I basically burnt his face off, and by the time he threw me off Dumbledore had arrived and cursed him into the wall. That was the end of the fight; we just watched the little trail of vapor that was Voldemort float off."

Ron and the twins were quite thrilled at my victory, and Ginny had this enormous grin on her face. Mrs. Weasley looked terrified, though. "He's still alive..." she whispered." Oh Merlin, he's still alive. Oh no." Whoops.

"I didn't mean to scare you, Mrs. Weasley. Professor Dumbledore's not worried about him, though; if he was concerned for anyone's safety here, he'd have let me know. We'll be alright.

"Were you involved in the war against him, like my parents were?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "Arthur and I, as well as my two brothers, Gideon and Fabian. Arthur and I made it out; my brothers were killed."

"Like he killed my parents..." I trailed off, looking at Mrs. Weasley's expression of anguish and fear. It was the first time I'd seen someone directly affected by Voldemort. For the first time since I'd fought Quirrel, I felt my rage, and the need for revenge. "When I was a baby, he lost to me and my parents, even though my parents died. Last year, he lost to me and Dumbledore, and only his loser of a servant Quirrel died. I'm sure I'll see him again, and when I do, I'm going to finish what he's started."

Mrs. Weasley pulled me into a tight hug, tears forming in her eyes. I was still a bit shorter than her, so it was rather suffocating. "You're a good boy, Harry. A very good boy." I couldn't help but wonder if she'd held her brothers like this, before they died.

To break up the mood, I gave a quick lesson on how to draw up your magic and push it into your muscles. Ron got it right off having worked a bit with me last year and the twins and Ginny got the hang of it quick enough. Mrs. Weasley was the best at it being a seasoned adult; she and I competed for farthest Gnome tossed that day. Soon, Gnomes were flying unheard of distances, and it was quite unlikely that they would be coming back anytime soon.

It didn't take long to figure out that Ginny had a crush on me. The twins teased her about it (for which I was a spectator to the disgusting and hilarious aftermath of the Bat Bogey Hex), and Ron offered his sympathies. I didn't particularly mind, though, Ginny was a good-looking girl, and was very passionate; everything she did she threw herself into... including arguments, of course. This brought the number of girls that wanted to be closer to me up to three; I admit to feeling rather good about myself, despite the hard feelings that might come about once I made a move myself.

Dinnertime at the Weasleys was entertaining. I spent most of the time talking about muggles with Mr. Weasley, while Mrs. Weasley got after the boys for their table manners. Ginny split her time between listening to me and getting Ron in trouble with her mom. Percy was last to arrive and first to leave the table, apparently more interested in his sixth-year homework than his family, the git.

I went back to the Weasleys a few days in a row, but I always returned to the Dursleys, not wanting to prolong my sleeping there. My only other outing during those three weeks was to meet Hermione at Diagon Alley.

In keeping with her nature, Hermione was already there when I arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, even though I was half an hour early. She smiled and hugged me, and we walked into the pub and through to the Alley.

"So, are you studying anything over the summer?" she asked once we were past the greetings and small talk.

"Not much to study," I replied. "Probably go over everything that I covered and see if I can absorb a few more details, and then make sure I'm clear up through fourth year Charms, Transfiguration, and whatever Quirrel had planned for fourth year Defense."

"Do you think that Professor Dumbledore will let you test out of those classes early?"

"Sure; he said as much before I left."

"That's good," she said, her eyes focused on something distant. "I plan on testing out of the practicals by Christmas." I was a little surprised at how quickly she wanted to test out, but Hermione was nothing if not determined. I, however, did not want to spend our time together talking just about school, especially when Hermione was always hedging around talking about her family.

"So, how're your parents?" I watched as Hermione missed a step and grabbed onto me for balance. I was worried about whatever was going on, but I can't deny that there were times like this where I had fun at her expense.

"They're… good," she managed finally. "Still busy, but I think they'll come in for a trip to Diagon Alley later this summer. You might be able to meet them then." A noncommittal answer with a promise for more information at a later date; Hermione certainly played the game well.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the Alley, and made plans to meet again once my time at the Dursleys was done. Since it would cost me mere sickles a day, and keep me close to the wizarding world, I decided that I'd rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer. My first day at the Alley, I finally met Hermione's mystery parents, shook their hands, and wondered why I didn't feel like my questions were answered. We were school shopping that day with the Weasleys, and Arthur Weasley, muggle enthusiast that he is, pounced on Hermione's parents like a wolf might jump on his prey. Ron and Ginny tried to monopolize my time, and Hermione seemed to stay very close to her parents. I probably would have let this day go by and forgotten all about my concerns if I hadn't noticed that Hermione was very jumpy and kept her wand out all the time - a pointless gesture for an underage witch, unless she was actually casting something. It made me watch her parents more closely.

Eventually, we were drawn to the bookstore, where I had a chance to fade into the background while the Weasleys and Grangers ogled the famous Gilderoy Lockheart. While Lockheart won the crowd over with his stunning smile, I was puzzling out why Hermione's parents looked so odd to me. They both had brown hair and brown eyes, but their facial structure was all wrong; Hermione looked nothing at all like them. As an adult, I'd have thought about adoptions or foster parents, but I didn't consider it at the time. All I knew was that something was very wrong with the scene in front of me, and that gut feeling prompted me to cast a revealing charm on Hermione's parents while everyone's backs were turned towards Lockheart. Small auras of spells showed up around the heads of Hermione's parents; the odd yellow color that is the telltale sign of Confundus-family charms. I stared wide-eyed at those balls of light; it wasn't at all what I expected. This was no Imperius or Obliviation, but a series of minor memory alterations that were more in the league of a young Hogwarts student.

Like Hermione.

I cancelled the revealing charm and stowed my wand quickly; just because the Ministry couldn't track my magic in public didn't mean that I wanted a bunch of adults seeing me breaking the law. My concern had hit an all-new level, and I nearly ran over to where Hermione was admiring Lockheart. Not waiting for acknowledgement, I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the bookstore and around the corner, giving us a degree of privacy.

"What the hell is going on?!" I demanded in a harsh whisper. "What are those charms on your parents? What's going on, Hermione?"

Hermione went pale as a ghost and fumbled around for her wand, and I saw red. Did she think I was another muggle to play with? With a small push for speed, I whipped my wand back out and into her face before hers was halfway up. "I told you before, Hermione. Don't ever, ever pull a wand on me for anything other than healing spells if you want to stay friends."

"I'm sorry!" she wailed, dropping her wand. She made to step nearer to me, but stopped near my wand's tip.

"Good," I said, indicating her dropped wand. "Now what the hell have you done?!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to draw, I swear, please don't be angry. Please..." Hermione's initial panic had passed, but she still seemed very frightened. My anger began to fade once I was sure that she wouldn't go for her wand again. Moving very slowly, I put my wand away, and held my arms out to her. With two wobbly steps, Hermione wrapped me in a fierce hug, her body shaking from head to toe.

"I'm sorry about the wand thing," I said softly. "It bothers me, and I'm already worried about you. I want to know what's going on. Your parents have memory charms on them, and I'm pretty sure you cast them."

"Harry, I'm scared. If I tell you, I could be..." she trailed off, still shivering.

"Please trust me, Hermione. I care about you; I'll take care of you the best I can. You're all right." I started to rub her back, saying anything I could think of to reassure her. We stood there for several minutes while Hermione brought herself under control. I couldn't make sense of the situation; were her parents abusive? Were they intolerant like the Dursleys? I had experience dealing with that directly. Was there something else? I couldn't understand why Hermione would do something so risky.

"Those two people aren't my real parents," she managed eventually. "They just think they are, and only with the shallowest memories, it was all I could manage."

"But why?" I asked, even more confused. What was the point of all of this?

"My … real parents ... are dead, Harry. They've been dead for a year and a half now."

Oh, shit, I thought. With a little prompting, Hermione began to explain, her voice gathering strength as she went.

"No one really knew us in London; my parents had closed their dental practice just before we moved to the city, but they were killed before they could start a new one. It was a car accident late at night, and the car was lost over the bridge. I forced the door open and was thrown out of the car with my mother's purse before it went over. It's been like this ever since. I cried so much, but I didn't want to be put in some home. My mother used to take me everywhere with her, even on her banking trips, and I remembered a lot about it. I used my mother's ID and passwords to manage her accounts over the phone, and had the banks free up the funds I'd need whenever I had to.

"Then I got my Hogwarts letter; once I was sure that it was real, I put everything I had into it. I needed to be a great student, and I figured that maybe there was some sort of scholarship system to use to pay for everything. I also figured that magic might help me manage my life without my parents. I didn't really understand that there was an entirely different society, but I was already committed.

"I found out that there is a scholarship program, but only after the OWL exams. I figured that I'd be able to scrape by until 5th year, and then the money from the OWL scholarships would tide me over until school was done, and help me get set up. It was a long shot, I know, but I had nothing else left and..."

"... You wanted to keep control of your life," I finished for her, trying to sound calm. "I get it; I was there, too, though it was a little different. But why the fake parents now?"

"I read a lot to try to stay ahead of anything the Ministry might want. A lot depends on parental consent in the wizarding world," she said. She wasn't shivering anymore, but she was still holding onto me tightly. "I needed at least some people to see that I had parents, just so that no one -like you or Professor Dumbledore-- would check on them. I also needed them to authorize the transactions at Gringotts to convert pounds to galleons.

"Since the Ministry can't easily track underage magic in public areas, I did those memory charms just off the train in King's Cross at the beginning of summer. I renew them periodically near the Leaky Cauldron."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn't help but be a little amused: Little Hermione, the harmless Ravenclaw bookworm who always looked down at her feet and barely came up to my shoulder, had bewitched two adult muggles into being her parents. I didn't call her on it, though; to be honest, I wasn't really worried about her controlling them -- I'd broken more than my share of laws as a kid, and re-wiring muggles was hardly a crime in wizarding society. Hermione, being Hermione, didn't need my prompting to defend her actions, though - she launched right into it.

"I ... I needed to," she said, her voice pleading for understanding. "I'd have set them right afterwards. They're wonderful people, Harry; I might get them to forgive me, but I had to -- I started this last year when I took over my parents' accounts, and I can't stop now. I need to be great at school, and I will now thanks to you and Professor Dumbledore, but I needed to be seen with parents. You understand, don't you? Please say that you understand..."

Yes, Hermione. In your distorted view of the world, what you're doing is exactly right, just like I did right in my own life. "Come with me, Hermione. We're going to set this all straight."

I strode fast enough to make Hermione nearly jog to keep up. I couldn't believe what a surreal set of events had taken place; Hermione's life seemed to be just as messed up as mine. I apparently had had Dumbledore for support, if at a distance, but Hermione had had no one. I felt that it qualified as a good time to be a "safety net." Thinking back to what I did to start my "new life," I figured that a repeat of what I did last summer was in order. My first stop would be Gringotts for a quick cart ride.

Once we got down to my vault, I asked the goblin if they could leave us there for a few minutes. I brought Hermione inside the vault, and I took her by the shoulders to keep her facing me.

"Hermione, I'm going to take care of you, and you're going to let me do it; okay?" Hermione looked around at the gold piles that surrounded us, clearly understanding at least some of my intent.

"Harry, I -- you don't have to. My parents had -- have money."

"Hermione."

"I-I ... ... alright."

"I'm going to do everything for you that I did for myself just before first year. So, help me count out about a thousand galleons. That will give us enough to do all that, and still have a ton of spending money besides. How much does Hogwarts cost you for a year?"

"... Twelve hundred."

"Twelve hundred!! Holy shit! You've paid for this year, right? Okay, then... that's another six thousand that's earmarked for Hogwarts. I'll talk to the goblins, and then send a letter to Professor Dumbledore. That's what, about 60,000 pounds a year on a good day? How did you afford your first two years?"

"My parents had a lot of money invested in stocks and such... I called it all in pretending to be my mother and traded the money at Gringots with people pretending to be my parents. I could probably have afforded the next two years, and then... I don't know what I would have done. The rent for the apartment I put everything in comes out of there, too." Hermione was clearly uncomfortable explaining this all to me; everything she said about her parents opened a would that hadn't really closed yet.

"Shh, shh," I said, pulling her close again. "I'll take care of Hogwarts. I'll take care of your stuff now. There's no need to worry about it any more. No more fretting about marks; no more charming muggles; you're safe now."

Hermione was much calmer as I led her out of the bank. The goblins cleared a draft form for the six thousand galleons that I could send to Dumbledore, and his letter would be the first thing to do once I got to the Leaky Cauldron. But first: Shopping.

We ditched the Weasleys at the book store with promises to write, and then ditched Hermione's "parents" at the Leaky Cauldron with promises to have Hermione home later in the afternoon. Within three hours, Hermione had a trunk like mine, the full seven-year set of books, the full potions kit, and all the other little bits that I could think of. I got her a complete wardrobe at Madam Malkin's which included having her family name in runes across her robes like mine. It's too bad that her family didn't have a crest, but the robe designs were beautiful even without it. Madam Malkin took the time to resize my robes as well.

With the same 5000 pound budget that I used, I took Hermione clothes shopping in London. She went so far as to get her hair cut and styled, as well as a manicure; things that she would never have afforded herself while trying to scrounge for Hogwarts years. By the time we got back to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione looked like an entirely new person. I'm sure she could tell I appreciated the view by the silly grin on my face.

Adjusting my summer plans slightly, I booked a room with two beds at the Cauldron, and gave the second key to Hermione. She took it looking at me very intently, and not for the first time I cursed not being a Legilimens. The room was a re-introduction to heaven. Proper wizarding washrooms and temperature-regulating beds. A proper perch for Hedwig. Yes, this would do nicely. I let Hermione use the washroom first while I got my thoughts together to write to Professor Dumbledore.

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Dear Professor,

Enclosed with this letter is a bank draft for 6000 galleons; the remaining tuition for Hermione Granger's years at Hogwarts. I have done this for reasons that are both personal and private to Hermione, but she and her family are very grateful for it.

I was wondering how on earth most muggleborn pay for their education at Hogwarts? Not every family could afford 1200 galleons a year per child; is there a system in place for that? It makes no difference to me at this point -- my money is well spent, so please sign the draft and file it with Gringotts. I'm far from poor.

Yours,

Harry Potter

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Short and direct; it would do.

I had just sent Hedwig off with that letter when Hermione came out of the washroom, saying "Your turn, Harry." I nearly ran to the washroom, wanting to remove all traces of the Dursleys from me.

After three long and sweaty weeks in the muggle world, I was clean again. I must have spent at least twenty minutes standing in that shower, luxuriating in the feeling more than any girl would have. The simple pleasures in life are by far the best.

By the time I'd gotten out of the shower, Hedwig had arrived with Dumbledore's response; he must have been in his office.

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Dear Harry,

You amaze me with your generosity; I will honor your request for privacy, and refrain from asking why this has occurred. If both you and Miss Granger are happy, the point is moot.

In most cases, the families of muggleborn students forward whatever costs they can cover, and the rest is simply owed in the manner of a loan with minimal interest. This has the unfortunate effect of forcing many muggleborn students to stop after their OWL exams and begin to pay back their owed amounts, sacrificing their seat at the school and their opportunity for taking the NEWT exams at Hogwarts. Those of Hermione's caliber can use the scholarship monies that they receive to pay for their NEWT year, as well as clear come of the lingering debt.

One of the things that I cannot change, even as Headmaster, is that fact that Hogwarts has become a school of prestige. The tuition is far greater than the costs of supporting a student, but it serves to prevent receiving thousands upon thousands of applications from across the world only to turn almost all of them down. The school generally hosts seven hundred students, and can only comfortably contain just under a thousand. The pressure of those waiting for a chance to attend Hogwarts keeps the returning students from straying; you must attend your years consecutively, or you must bow out and attend a different school. These are details of politics, though, and are not likely what you wished to hear. Perhaps one day this year you will join me for tea, and I will tell you tales of daring in which I have navigated the sea of Ministry politics for the sake of our students.

I wish you luck and patience in your studies; less of the former, and more of the latter.

Your Servant,

Albus Dumbledore

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Well, that was interesting and slightly educational, I thought. I gave the letter to Hermione to read. She skimmed through it, and looked up at me. "You already sent the money?"

I nodded, and she came over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you, Harry. I don't know why you did it, but thank you."

"You mean that much to me," I said before my brain could insert a more neutral answer. I promptly went beet red once I realized what had come out of my mouth. Still, I didn't look away from Hermione; I couldn't say that I didn't mean it.

Hermione had colored slightly too, and she had that intent look on her face again. Slowly, she came back close to me, bringing us pretty much nose to nose, her eyes never leaving mine. The room seemed to disappear from my senses, and the only things I could really focus on were Hermione's eyes and her face. With the clumsy instinct that came from watching older couples around Hogwarts, I pushed against hear nose with mine, tilting her head back a bit. With a mixture of desire and trepidation, I brought my lips down to hers. She pressed back immediately, and an unfathomable sliver of eternity passed with us standing there, connected by our first kiss.

I'm sorry to disappoint all the hopeless romantics reading, but that's about as mushy as I get. There really isn't that much more to cover, anyways, as far as romance was concerned; nothing in either of our messed up childhoods would help a loving relationship form faster. If anything, our beginnings made the process harder. It would take me and Hermione years to trust each other enough to become intimate, but it began here, just before my 12^th birthday.

We spent the rest of that evening packing Hermione's belongings in the apartment she kept them in, and depositing them in my Gringotts vault. I was there with my invisibility cloak when Hermione released her memory charms from her stand-in parents, and we watched unseen as they left slightly confused to continue on with their lives. I spent a large part of that night holding Hermione while she cried. It was hard for her to let go of another set of parents, even fake ones. I offered her my glasses to look into, but Hermione was too afraid of what she'd see in the Mirror of Erised to take them.

Hermione was far from depressed, though; as it sank in that her survival and independence were no longer in question, Hermione became happy to the point of bouncing. It made me wonder if I'd ever seen the real Hermione before. We tackled the endless list of assignments that she had left in order for her to test out of the rest of her theoretical classes, but her work went quite a bit slower than the pace Hermione usually set; the pressure to perform was off, and it showed. We spent many days walking through Diagon Alley, spending our money on stuff to decorate our rooms at Hogwarts, or indulging in the more exotic ice cream flavors at Florean Fortescue's.

Both Hermione and I got some interesting insights into each other over the summer. Most boyfriends and girlfriends don't really get a chance to live together until they're ready to marry, or are already married. Being in dorms at school is different, since there are so many other students around, and you tend to keep your guard up and stay civil. It's not a place where I would hear Hermione swearing in the morning, or making cute cooing noises to Hedwig. I'd never have seen her with only her pajamas on for modesty while she fought with her hair, nor would I have imagined I'd be helping her brush it. I'd have never heard her use such crass body humor in school, or heard her complain about her periods and the cramps that went with them. I let my own guard down, too. I slept in my boxers, and was in no rush to get dressed in the mornings. I wasn't bothered by Hermione seeing me like this before I got dressed; I swore a lot more than I usually did, and my humor was just as base as hers was. I remember showing her this game that Hedwig liked to play where she would hang upside down from your hand, and wanted you to spin around. I never asked Hermione to talk about her parents, just like I never talked about mine. She had her pictures like I had mine, and that was it.

The day before my birthday I took some time to visit with Pansy. She and her parents lived in the Diagon Alley area, so it wasn't much of a trip to make. Pansy's home was very formal and proper until you got to Pansy's rooms. Here the telltale signs of Pansy's enchantment projects were strewn all over the place. Pansy herself dressed in simple work robes that I'm sure her parents considered inappropriate for company, but she didn't seem to care.

I had the chance to meet Pansy's parents while I was there. Marius Parkinson was a self-employed Warder, and made a tidy profit from erecting and maintaining wards around people's properties. The wards were often tied to sensors monitored by clerks of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Marius was something of an installer and troubleshooter for those sensors as well. I never really thought that installing and monitoring alarm systems was a prestigious job by muggle standards, but it certainly paid well in wizarding society.

Livia Parkinson had a career as an Obliviator -- a member of the DMLE tasked with removing memories of magical events from muggles and replacing them with something more acceptable to muggle society. The position paid well, and between the two of them and their family inheritances, the Parkinsons were quite well off.

I enjoyed talking with adults, as I'd been doing it my entire life. I didn't get to talk about much more than their jobs and school before Pansy dragged me away, though. She showed me around the grounds, and some of her experiments in enchantment. While I was examining a moving Quidditch player, Pansy turned the conversation a little more serious.

"I'm not going to get a chance to be with you, am I?" she asked, trying to keep her tone flat.

"Err..." I wasn't ready for this conversation, and I was scrambling for something to say.

"I was hoping that you'd be interested, you know," she continued, not waiting for my reply. "My parents were looking forward to it for their own reasons, but I thought it would be fun. You know that they'll make me go after Draco now, right?"

"I'm sorry," I said once I had gathered my thoughts. "It's not like I wasn't paying attention to you. I do like you, but I'm really drawn to Hermione. If your parents are looking for an alliance or something like that, I'm all for it, but..."

"...But you're not available," she finished.

"I have to give it a shot with Hermione. You know that I'll be here for you, Pansy." This is where I expected there to be one of those long uncomfortable silences. To my surprise, Pansy just walked over and put her arms around me.

"I want to be mad at you," she said as she hugged me. "I want to watch you leave the house, and curse your name for a week. I want to spend my summer burning your pictures, and scream at my parents for not doing something about it. Then, I want to come back to school and hug you, and be friends again, because you're important to me. Can I do that?"

"Yeah," I said, returning the hug. "You can do that. I'm comfortable around you Pansy. It's like you're family." For some reason, that brought Pansy to tears, and she hugged me harder.

"Can we make that happen?" she asked me. "We can, you know. You could be a Parkinson if you wanted. I know my parents would agree."

"Would I have to change my last name?" I was the last Potter that I knew of, and I would have hated to let the name die off. The prospect of having parents and a sister was a very cool idea, though.

Pansy shrugged, and then called for her dad. Soon Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, Pansy and I were sitting in their living room, having a very thorough discussion about the merging of the Potter and Parkinson families.

"You're not the only one in this situation," Mr. Parkinson said. We are the last Parkinsons in Britain; once Pansy marries, unless the wedding is very unorthodox, the Parkinson name will die off with us. Livia and I weren't planning on having children again."

"In the case of us adopting you," Mrs. Parkinson continued from her husband, "You would have the legal option of using either last name. I would imagine you'd still use Potter for yourself, and whoever you married would be Mrs. Potter, so that your family name lived on. You'd still have a legal claim to the name Parkinson, though, and your children could take on that last name as well.

"The best thing that you could do for both you and us would be to have at least two sons, and have one son take on the last name of Parkinson."

"But… even if they went on to have kids, both families would still be the same family… right?" I said, scratching my head.

"Essentially," Mr. Parkinson said, nodding. "You'd have to file to legally separate the families, and they'd have to be two distinct bodies again, like I'm suggesting."

"So, will you do it?" Pansy asked, grabbing my hand. "Brother, boyfriend, I don't care as long as I don't have to lose you completely." I shot Mrs. Parkinson a look of confusion, but she motioned for me not to bring it up.

"We both understand that you've been largely independent," Mrs. Parkinson added. "There isn't a problem with you staying that way; we're not going to try to step in and be parents, though you'd certainly be welcome here."

"Alright," I said after a moment's thought, "Let's do it. Mr. Parkinson, you'll need to get a hold of Professor Dumbledore. According to current law, he's directly responsible for me."

Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson disappeared to go see Professor Dumbledore, and Pansy took me back up to her rooms. "Here," she said, holding out a small knife. "I want to do this the old-fashioned way, too. Cut your wrist."

It might have been a bit reckless, but if it made Pansy happy, why not? I slit my wrist and handed back the knife. She quickly slit hers, too, and we pressed them together. There was a small rush as our blood met, almost as if I had boosted my strength a little. Pansy gave a small gasp as it happened, but it was over in an instant.

We stayed like that for a couple of minutes before we pulled our sticky wrists apart. I was no Healer, but Pansy had a salve in her room specifically designed to mend flesh wounds. Two quick cleaning spells later, all evidence of blood was gone. Despite the rush of magic, neither one of us felt any different than we normally did, and we wrote the whole event off as a quirky personal touch to what was ultimately a legal matter.

Pansy's parents returned two hours later with the signed documents; I added my signature, and we celebrated the expansion of our mutual family over dinner. I later asked Mrs. Parkinson about Pansy and her comment about losing me. "It's more her story to say," She said, "but Pansy has lost a lot of male figures in her life. Her father is the last one she has left, and she's rather protective of him. You fill a void that's existed for a long time, Harry. Please be careful with her."

I decided then and there that damaged girls must gravitate to me for some universal reason. Hermione, Pansy… I wondered if Ginny had something horrible happen to her as well. Hey, maybe three won't be enough, I thought. Why not pick up a couple of extra deranged girls and try to make their lives better?

I spoke to soon on this one, as you'll find out.

When I got back to the Leaky Cauldron that evening, I told Hermione what I'd done. As a testament to her change in personality, her only reaction was to laugh and hug me.

"Well, Congratulations! I guess Pansy really wanted to hold on to you," she said. "So, you're a Parkinson now?"

I shrugged. "If I want to be. Basically, nothing changes except that Marius can open the Potter accounts and get that money moving again, which is a bonus. I'm going to stay a Potter; I'd feel really weird not keeping my parents' last name."

"That's true."

"Hmm… Now all we have to do is find you a family, and we're all set."

Hermione smacked my chest lightly. "Yeah, right, Harry. I think you and Pansy have Britain's quota of overly-permissive parents to yourselves. Besides, I'd still be on my own dealing with my parents' muggle accounts.

"Oh, right." I'd honestly forgotten about those. "What are you going to do with them?"

"I don't know," she said. "I should probably liquidate them and just create an account at Gringotts; there's nothing left in the muggle world to go back to.

"The only problem is that I need my parents to deal with Gringotts, so I'm still stuck in that circle."

"You know, I could probably convince the Weasleys to adopt you," I said jokingly. "You'd get those pesky parents, as well as an enormous family out of it."

"I could never ask that," she said. "Besides, Mrs. Weasley is as strict as you can get, and they're not in a good position to afford…" Hermione trailed off at my look. "Right, sorry, most of my expenses are covered. I don't know, it would be nice, I guess."

"Why not pay them a visit and ask?" I said, deciding that my joke might actually work out for real. "You might be surprised at how easy we both end up with families."

The Weasleys were delighted to have Hermione as part of their family, of course. There was a big argument about the fact that I had paid for Hogwarts, since it would quickly become a Weasley family matter, but as I'd already settled the matter with Dumbledore, there was nothing to be done. Mrs. Weasley was more than happy to have someone else to care for. "With Bill and Charlie gone, there's simply too much room in the house," she said, while the rest of the crowded kitchen laughed. Mr. Weasley was just as openly supportive, and more than happy to have Hermione around to talk muggle-tech with.

For the amusement of everyone Fred and George immediately started off on me for dating their "little sister," and we ended up in a two-on-one wrestling match. As I had way more power and experience with boosting my strength, I won. Bill and Charlie were fire-called, and wished their newly adopted sister well. Ron gave Hermione a one-armed hug and said "Welcome home," which of course made Hermione and Mrs. Weasley cry. It certainly made me smile; it was refreshing to see Ron do something nice for Hermione.

Ginny was the only one who had mixed reactions. While she thought a sister to share her time with was a good thing, Ginny was less than pleased that Hermione was my girlfriend, and that she wasn't. Oh, well; can't fix everyone's problems in one shot.

Dumbledore cleared the paperwork for Hermione like he had done for me, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley helped her sort out her parents' estate. Hermione convinced Mrs. Weasley to use some of that money to improve the Burrow and buy furniture, and Hermione slowly settled into her new family as the first weeks of August carried on. Since Hermione was no longer staying with me in the Cauldron, and I had a better place to be, I stayed with the Parkinsons to close out the month, and spent my time helping Pansy enchant items, or over at the Weasleys with Hermione.

The best part of that entire event was that Mrs. Weasley was so busy with Hermione that she forgot entirely about the fact that the day we had come over was my birthday, and that she had planned to host a small party for it. I didn't, and neither did the twins, but I shushed them and allowed Mrs. Weasley to dote on Hermione. It was three days later that a very embarrassed Mrs. Weasley invited me over for dinner to celebrate my birthday, and Fred and George were quick to congratulate me amidst much laughter on using Hermione as a clever diversion to avoid my own party.

You'll all notice how I neither heard nor saw a Malfoy all summer. That was a depressing fact to relay to Dumbledore, but even he could only shrug his shoulders. "You can't save everyone," he said. Oh, so true.

All too quickly, the summer was gone, and we were shipped back off to Hogwarts. My second year looked markedly different from my first. Hermione finished off her theory courses like she wanted to; it took me most of September to test out of my practical courses through fourth year. Unlike my other marks, however, these tests were solid O's. Dumbledore's wand lessons had paid off big time, and on the rare occasion that my wand motions weren't up to par, there wasn't really any practical work I couldn't just power through. Having finished off my course work until my OWL year, I was free of all scheduled classes.

One of the new Ravenclaws was a very quirky girl named Luna Lovegood. I've never seen Hermione so flummoxed as when Luna would come along and spout off information about some imaginary creature that couldn't exist even in a wizard's wildest dreams. She was an absolutely brilliant student, easily on par with Hermione, but her imagination was working in overdrive. A few of the snobbier Ravenclaws were quick to pick on her, but between me, Hermione, Roger, and Cho, it died off fast.

Draco was now the Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team, with his father having bought the entire team brand-new Nimbus 2001 brooms. There weren't any school regulations to prevent this from occurring, and while Draco received a lot of praise from the Slytherins for it, Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout were all ticked off because it drove the wedge between Slytherin and the other Houses even deeper. Having the means to do something about it, I sent Hedwig to Professor Dumbledore for permission, then to Mr. Parkinson for the 3000 galleons that I'd need to do it. Very quickly, all three other houses were equipped with ten Nimbus 2000 brooms each to replace the old school ones, ensuring an even playing field throughout. Pansy told me that the Slytherins hated me for it, but since I almost never saw them, I couldn't have cared less.

Aside from Ravenclaw having won their two scheduled games against Hufflepuff and Slytherin that term, there isn't a lot more to say about Quidditch; the season had a good start, and every team was better than they were last year.

There's a bit to say about the pompous git Lockheart, but I'll save that for the bad part of the year, where he featured quite prominently.

Professor Dumbledore met with me for at least two hours each weekday, and we'd cover everything from OWL-level material to his particular version of summoning charm to collect exam papers. We did some amazing stuff, and I'll share a few of my favorite moments with you.

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"There are many facets to magic, some of which you're beginning to understand," Dumbledore said in one of our first meetings. "Let's start by looking at how we expect students to proceed in learning magic.

"The most straight-forward area is Transfiguration. In this branch of magic, you are given several specific spells that change one object into another. This is done to get you used to the general process of Transfiguration, as well as the specific processes of applying minute details to transfigured works. Eventually, the goal is to have all the details such as shape, texture and hardness mastered by the end of fourth year. In fifth year, you are introduced to the four Universal Transfiguration spells: Non-living to non-living; non-living to living; living to non-living; and living to living. You will then add the necessary textures, shapes and other details to the universal spell to achieve any transfiguration you desire.

"Naturally, we could have started with the universals in first year, but they tend to require more power than the average first-year student can muster, and there is no student-friendly manner in which to pass on the additions to the spells for all the necessary details. Thus, we teach specific transfigurations first to build experience, and you have the system that we use now.

"After OWLs, Transfiguration ceases and the Conjury NEWT begins. Here, you will learn the Conjurus spell, which creates a basic malleable silvery substance similar to carbon in weight and composition from the pure magical energy that the caster provides. There are two variations of the spell: One for temporary conjurations, and one for permanent. Naturally, the permanent requires significantly more power to cast, and so we do not dwell on it in classes. Once the substance is conjured, you then use the Universal Transfigurations to turn it into whatever you wish. With practice comes skill and speed, and the result is exactly like the chair I conjured for you to sit in: Your item will appear as quickly as to seem like one spell rather than at least two very complex ones strung together."

"Okay," I said. "That doesn't seem too difficult to understand. Are we going to be practicing Conjury together?"

"A little," Dumbledore replied, nodding. "You have sufficient skill in Transfiguration that I believe you capable of using the Universals. Once you're fluent in Universal Transfiguration, we will move on to Conjury. Before we begin I must ask you to please use caution: Conjury requires a fair amount of power, even for temporary items. I don't see any issues with most temporary creations, but be careful with any permanent creations, as you'll likely feel very drained afterward, just as any adult wizard would. I have no issues with you passing your knowledge on to Ms. Granger, but please advise her against attempting permanent conjurations until she is older. If she truly needs something, I would prefer that you create it, as you have the power to do so without risking injury."

"I have one more question," I said, toying with a galleon in my robe's pocket. "If wizards can all just make whatever they want, why do we have so many stores?"

"Any muggle can draw whatever they want," Dumbledore said with a smile. "So why is it that some muggle artists are famous and in high demand, while others never manage to sell their work?"

Oh. Right. "Never mind," I said, hitting my head. As I quickly learned, being able to conjure a chair does not imply that the chair actually looks good, or is structurally stable; this branch of magic requires some talent.

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"Unlike Transfiguration, Charms are designed for specific functions, and so you will doubtlessly end up with a repertoire of at least a couple hundred by the time you are an adult. Naturally, however, there are similarities in the spell creation and manipulation process that we can exploit to make this easier."

What followed for the next two weeks was a crash course in the worst kind of Arithmancy and Runes work possible. I was pushing the concepts around in my head, trying to understand it all. The math made sense, but Dumbledore was obviously trying to make a point, not just prepare me for NEWT Arithmancy.

As I was playing with a pebble that I had levitated, it occurred to me that the Levitation Charm didn't have an opposite. What would that be; a Gravity Charm? Intrigued, I tried to crunch the Arithmancy backwards, thinking of how to reverse a Levitation charm. Dumbledore's Arithmancy lessons were good, and within ten minutes I thought I had a workable concept for the Charm. It was a very simplistic wand command (essentially "down"), and used two runes for the incantation that were vague at best. My mental image for the spell was simply the outcome: the pebble being forced downwards. The only reason that I figured this would work was that I could pump an enormous amount of power into the spell, but it was a start.

Dumbledore had stopped talking to watch me while I worked. Once I figured out the runes to use, I twirled my wand tip in a tight spiral, and then flicked it straight down, intoning "Ingravo!" The pebble floating over Dumbledore's desk rocketed downward and impacted the desk with a loud 'thwack!' My spell gave way immediately and the pebble bounced off the desk to the ground, and I could see the dent that it had made in the desktop. I would've been excited if the energy drain didn't almost knocked me out; as it was I collapsed backwards in my chair, thoroughly exhausted.

I mustered what energy I had left to answer Dumbledore's questioning gaze. "I think I've got it professor: Charms are based off of simple commands and processes; kind of like a do-it-yourself magic set. If you're familiar enough with the processes behind the wand control, incantation and mental imagery, you can basically create Charms on the fly."

"Indeed!" Dumbledore agreed with a huge smile. "It is the hardest lesson to teach, and one that most students simply do not understand. It's why so many students struggle with the Spell Creation NEWT. You see, we teach charms that are well-developed and complex; those are so useful that most wizards do not seek to apply their Arithmancy and Runic knowledge to seek out more direct, personal solutions.

"Naturally, you would need to work on this discovery," he said, pointing at the dent on his desk. "This charm of yours needs to be redesigned with the proper Astronomical constants, as well as further refinement on what Runes the incantation is based off of, both of which will help to reduce the power drain of the spell to something the average witch and wizard would consider acceptable. Add to that a new arithmantic algorithm to calculate the wand control to at the very least manage the speed of descent, and you will have a reasonable charm model.

"There would be even more refinement to do if you wished to publish your work, naturally: You want the spell to be as accessible as possible to all wizards and witches. The lower you can work the power drain, and the more complete and flexible the wand controls are, the more useful --and thus more popular-- the charm would be."

"Err, wow. That's a lot of work." That's probably about three months' work with no interruptions for someone very familiar with NEWT-level Arithmancy and Runes, as well as much more experience with Charms in general. I had absolutely no chance at doing any of that at this point.

That didn't stop Dumbledore from continuing the Arithmancy lecture, though, and I trundled along as best I could.

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I really wish that Dumbledore himself taught DADA. He could cleanly and concisely teach a student everything worth knowing within the span of a year, let the students get 'O's on their OWL, and then come back for one more year to finish NEWTs.

"There are as many different theories on personal defense as there are wizards,"Dumbledore began. "In my opinion, there are three areas of knowledge that you will call upon in dangerous situations. The first is evasion of combat, which means both dodging and moving when confronted, and avoiding the confrontation in the first place.

"The next area is Universal Conjury. I trust I don't have to explain why it's vital that you can quickly and easily produce anything and everything you wish on a moment's notice.

"Finally we have the creature-specific spells, which you will use against your adversary when the opportunity presents itself, and not before."

I was very eager to learn how to duel properly. After my near-fatal run in last year, and the spectacular battle between Quirrel and Snape, I was very interested in learning how to move like that. They hadn't been throwing around single spells like Expelliarmus or Protego; their fighting was much more like a ramped-up Kung Fu movie where all the attacks and blocks blur together silently and with little wand movement, and where each combatant had their signature attack move.

Dumbledore was surprisingly open about dueling, and we spent a lot of time on it once the more academic side of DADA was covered. It turns out my comparison of dueling to martial arts wasn't wrong, either: Aside from the hundreds of specific counter-curses that exist, there are something like 12 different shielding charms with Protego being only the most common; there are also close to 20 varieties of deflecting charms that divert spells away from you. These require some accuracy on the user's part, but take a hell of a lot less effort than a full shield would, and the strongest varieties can even deflect the otherwise-untouchable Killing Curse a couple of degrees, which could be a life saver.

There were the standard offensive spells, of course: Expelliarmus, Petrificus Totalus, Stupefy, Impedimenta, and others that you've likely all heard of, and a lot of you have used. These spells were certainly used to great effect in tournament duels, along with Transfiguration to control and change the field. In a real fight, however, it's more like Snape and Quirrel: Each fighter uses a spell that they've personally created or modified to prevent the use of a counter-curse.

Especially skilled combatants develop several variations of that spell and cycle through them so that the chances of a counter-curse being reverse-engineered are negligible. In every case, these spells are used silently, and almost always with muted wand movements. Dumbledore told me that fighters passed their signature spells on to students, like Master to Apprentice, and the secret of the spell is expected to remain with the Apprentice until he takes a student under his wing.

There was a lot to learn, and a great deal of physical conditioning to go through. We didn't run marathons, but Dumbledore introduced me to body-weight calisthenics, meditative breathing, and a change in diet to improve my stamina. I learned quickly that while Voldemort had given me the strength of a fifty-year-old wizard, I didn't have the endurance of one, and strenuous magical use like dueling tired me out very quickly. All the muggles reading this should put the book down and go to their local martial arts school and sign up. Do what they tell you with as much effort as you can muster for a year or until they hand you a black belt, which ever comes first, and you'll have a small idea of what I went through with Dumbledore. You'll also understand how different the concept of 'fighting' becomes after you've been trained and how important tactical movement and anticipation become.

Wizarding society is exactly like muggle society when it comes to fighting skill: The average wizard knows how to use Protego, Stupefy, and Expelliarmus, just like the average muggle knows how to throw a punch. Neither practices much, and they're not really concerned about being good at it. The wizard will cast vocally with textbook wand movements, and against most creatures, muggles or unskilled opponents that's good enough. The 'weekend warriors' and trained militia of wizarding society ('Hit Wizards,' we call them) tend to cast silently, have a reasonable repertoire of offensive and defensive spells, and don't ignore the use of Transfiguration in combat.

Professional duelists, Aurors, and most of Voldemort's Inner Circle fight with spells meshing fluidly together, and have developed signature spells that can't be easily countered. At this level, the wizards are usually pushing themselves to be physically faster and stronger as well, so they really are operating at a blur to the naked eye. Snape is a great example of someone at this level.

Beyond that, you have elite people like Dumbledore, Flitwick, Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort, whose styles are unique and untouchable except maybe by someone else at this level. Despite what I thought I knew I was useless in a fight when I started with Dumbledore. By the time Christmas came I was a little less useless and could duel with Dumbledore for a few minutes before collapsing, as long as he took it very easy on me. I began to understand what Dumbledore meant when he had told me that I could only progress so quickly; it would take years to become a competent duelist like Snape was, and I might never be able to reach the level that Dumbledore operated at.

Dumbledore was hardly modest, either: He would often go all-out on the same spell combinations that I was practicing, or the same exercises I was doing. For example, a five-spell combo like Accio/Universal Transfiguration/Reducto/Wingardium Leviosa/Waddiwasi would summon an item, change it to a granite slab, shatter it, render it weightless, and fire it at an enemy with the force of a shotgun blast. I could manage this combination in about 4.5 seconds on average after a few weeks of practice with Dumbledore, with my best time ever being about 3 seconds. Dumbledore, on the other hand, could manage it in about 0.5 seconds consistently (and yes, the books, tables and chairs he would summon moved that fast).

Remember my reference to words-per-minute for wand work in my first year? Here's a better indication of why skilled wand work is necessary: For those good at math, I was managing 1.2 spells per second on average, and the grade for active-duty Aurors was 2 spells per second. Dumbledore was managing 10 spells per second, 5 times the speed of your average Auror, and nearly 10 times my speed. I couldn't even think that fast at the time, but it was amazing to watch, and it gave me a target to strive for. To this day, I'm still striving for it.

There one conversation I remember during our dueling was quite depressing, but it saved my life later that year.

"Sir, what about fighting someone who's using the Unforgivable curses against me?" I had kept this question in for a while, but my concerns of battling Voldemort again prompted me to ask.

"Well, I suppose there are two options," he began slowly, stroking his beard, "Though only one if you truly think about it. The first option is to respond with the Unforgivables yourself. I truly believe this to be the wrong decision, as it only evens the odds against your opponent rather than offering any advantage, and it also paints you into a corner both morally and legally. Thankfully there is an alternative solution for the skilled duelist.

"This solution is to draw upon the essential flaw of the Unforgivables: Power. You will find, Harry, that any of the three Unforgivables are quite simple to learn, but require significant magical strength to cast for very obvious reasons. The Killing Curse is especially difficult for most people to cast, requiring most of a seasoned adult's power. As such, it is far more likely that you will be assaulted with the Cruciatus, which is the lowest-powered Unforgivable. You will only be targeted with the Imperius if your opponent is desperate or if they are certain that they are proficient enough to defeat your resistance. To a practiced Occlumens like yourself, the Imperius is next to worthless without first subduing you.

"With the exception of Voldemort and a select handful of his Death Eaters, everyone who uses these curses is quite unskilled, and is likely using them in desperation. Even those Death Eaters would struggle to use those curses consistently against skilled foes like Aurors, frequently resorting to standard spells or Dark Arts of lesser power. Only Voldemort has been known to duel using just the Unforgivable curses; the reason that he is so feared and his name is so unspeakable is due to such displays of inhuman power and ability.

"Continuing on, the Unforgivables derive much of their power from emotion; specifically hatred and the need to dominate. The effect of this emotional dependency is that the incantations are that much more important to the curses, as emotions demand a physical outlet more than a magical one. Withholding the incantation removes much of an Unforgivable's power. Done silently, the Imperius and Killing Curse are both ineffective, and the Cruciatus is somewhat painful but hardly incapacitating. Having said all of this, then, I offer my solution to almost every case of the Unforgivables: Silencio.

"Naturally you're not aiming this spell at your opponent as it would most likely be countered or blocked. Instead, you are warding the room or area you're in against internal sound, rather than external. This act will prevent both you and your opponent from vocalizing spells. Since you are skilled and not using the Unforgivables, this should not matter to you.

"Your opponent, however, will have been relying on vocalization to produce the Unforgivables consistently. Thus, you have forced him into a difficult decision. If he attempts to undo the Silencing Charm, he will leave himself vulnerable to your spells, and will most likely be defeated. If he chooses to continue the duel silently, he must either abandon the Unforgivables or attempt to work them silently. Once again, I have yet to see any Unforgivable aside from a very weak Cruciatus successfully attempted silently. Even Voldemort is not known for silently casting these curses, though he would be the most likely candidate to do so. It is almost a guarantee that your opponent will abandon the use of Unforgivables or attempt to flee the area."

That information had me thinking. Essentially, the Silencio tactic would disable the only spells that a decent shield or deflector wouldn't work against. Voldemort might have enough power to continue silently, but it would be far easier for him to just blow a hole through the wall and leave the silenced area, so it would work against him, too, at least to buy time. Still, the thought of fighting Voldemort with a silencing charm wasn't exactly the safety blanket I was looking for.

"That's really good, Professor," I finally said. "It would work well in every situation I can think of, except one."

"I know," Dumbledore said, his mood darkening. He stood from his desk and walked to the window of his office, looking out. He stood there for a long time, fighting some sort of internal battle. When he looked back to me, the Headmaster was gone; once again, I was looking at the General. "I hope you never find yourself pinned against Voldemort with no escape possible, Harry. I know that it nearly happened last year, though, and Voldemort will continue to move against you if you make yourself available to him. Try your best to avoid dueling Voldemort again; he should be taken by a group of skilled wizards, never faced alone. But if you have to... then use the first solution, Harry.

"No wizard alive will ever lay blame to you if you answer Voldemort with equal force."

We didn't talk any more that day. Dumbledore was thoroughly depressed that he had to tell a second-year student to use Unforgivables, even if it was against Voldemort, and even if it was me. I was reeling with the shock of Dumbledore's words; even with last year's events, the wizarding world still seemed like a fantasy world to me. The concept of the Unforgivables had been so many meaningless words to me. Of course there was a Killing Curse, just like muggle stories had Wicked Witches. Voldemort would melt at my touch like the Wicked Witch of the West melted when hit with water; I would suffer a bit, but there wasn't really a threat.

But Dumbledore, the Omnipotent Great White Wizard, the hero of old who could solve any problem and rule the world without getting out of bed in the morning, just told me to use the Unforgivables against Voldemort.

I had nightmares again that night. I saw my parents die; I saw the Weasleys die; I saw Pansy die; I saw Hermione die. I killed the people that killed them, and more showed up. And more people died. I killed those too, and an army showed up to replace them. It was a never-ending cycle of death. For the next few nights, I didn't sleep much. I spent a lot of time with my cloak in the Restricted Section of the library, studying what I swore last year I would leave alone.

---

It wasn't all just a free ride for me, though: In repayment for all this special treatment, I agreed to help with maintaining Hogwarts. On mornings where I wasn't working with Professor Dumbledore, I was in Madam Pomfrey's workroom preparing potions for her. I had pretty much replaced Professor Snape as the brewer for the Hospital Wing's supply of cures. I had asked Madam Pomfrey exactly why potions were used instead of spells to heal; after all, I saw Dumbledore attach two legs and an arm in just seconds. Madam Pomfrey answered by saying "We're not all Professor Dumbledore, dear."

The translation of that answer is that potions can accomplish what spells can without requiring someone there to provide the energy for the spell -- kind of like 100% skill, 0% power, and a shelf life to boot. Potions are an easily stored version of healing that can be used anytime and treat an array of injuries from the most minor to very lethal. Putting a leg back on requires complex healing spells and someone of close to Dumbledore's power, or 5 ounces of a potion designed to re-grow muscle, tendons and ligaments, an ounce of Skele-Gro, and a minor healing charm to mend the skin and clear the bruising. Since people of Dumbledore's caliber take over a century to produce, and the potions take about 2 hours per cauldron batch, it's not such a big surprise that potions carry the day when it comes to healing heavy injuries.

My afternoons were spent taking care of the castle and grounds. For the last two weeks of October I followed Filch and Hagrid around and learned everything to do with their jobs. Filch was a Squib, and his job as caretaker was a painful one due to his inability to perform magic. He coordinated with the House Elves, but as their name implies, House Elves are naturally attuned to working in houses. They can cook, clean, and pick up after the students and professors, but they aren't knowledgeable in any way about how to maintain a castle or the surrounding lands.

Hagrid was responsible for the grounds, and was more than capable of using magic. His job was to grow the various crops and tend to the livestock that Hogwarts used for food. On top of that, he was responsible for stocking supplies such as wood and leather, and had to keep all the creatures in the Forbidden Forest in line as well. All in all, Hagrid was a very busy man.

Having my help made Filch a very pleasant person -- well, at least to me. He'd walk around with me and tell me what to do, and I'd do it using cleaning, summoning, levitation, or repair charms. Using magic, I could finish in three hours what took Filch two days. Within those two weeks, the castle was nearly up-to-date on maintenance, and Filch's days were much shorter than before.

Helping Hagrid was a lot more involved: Specific transfigurations and charms to keep the grass short, the crops large, healthy and pest-free, and the animals in line; a ridiculous amount of pruning and trimming in the Forest to keep the trees healthy and prevent them from choking out the rarer plants that we collected for Professors Snape and Sprout, as well as Madam Pomfrey; intimidation and a few nasty hexes to keep the Acromantulas and Centaurs in line and within their parts of the forest. I've made myself out to be pretty strong, but Hagrid's got me beat. My Expelliarmus threw a Centaur's bow and arrows up into the nearest tree and knocked the Centaur back a step; Hagrid's Expelliarmus threw the Centaur into a tree, and I didn't see where the bow and arrows got to. It's not hard to figure out why Dumbledore trusted Hagrid to look after the grounds, or why Quirrel had been so quick to disable Hagrid in the forest last year.

By mid-November, both Hagrid and Filch were well on top of their work, and my afternoons were split yet another way. If Hagrid and Filch were good for the day, I would traverse the grounds with Professor Dumbledore and help him reinforce the wards around Hogwarts. By 'help' I really mean 'watch and take notes while he does it;' warding is ridiculously complex, and people like Dumbledore, Bill Weasley and Marius Parkinson have my awe and respect for what they do. It wouldn't be until late December that I first began to successfully aid Professor Dumbledore on some of the most minor incantations.

Why did Dumbledore have me doing all of this work and making life easier for Snape, Hagrid, Filch and Pomfrey? Public relations, of course; I had never dealt with Dumbledore in his Politician mode before now. Once I had stopped attending my practical classes it was obvious to everyone that there was something going on with me. Hermione only attended her practical classes now, so it was clear that she was only a step behind me, whatever we were doing. When the Prophet came calling, Dumbledore happily told them that I was finished my fourth and fifth-year material, and was just sitting around for my OWL exams. My volunteer work for Hogwarts was my way of contributing to the school while I was here, and learn a few extra tricks from the professors I worked with on the side. Hermione was getting there, and would likely join me in my efforts.

The Prophet ate that up like honey, and while I gained a few points to my name for being such a caring and proactive individual, Dumbledore gained points as a Headmaster for having Hogwarts working smoothly and efficiently, and Hogwarts itself gained points by having students advance so quickly that they were years ahead of the curriculum and by having students that are generous enough to donate their time to volunteer work, speaking volumes for the school's values.

Hermione's abilities also gained her some direct attention, as she was a muggleborn with no known magical relations of any generation. She existed as a testament to the fallacy of blood purity, and there were a couple of articles that made noise in that regard, using Hermione as their shining example. Blood purists were quick to debunk the equality of muggleborn, instead allowing for certain exceptions to exist. Regardless of who was winning the debate, all sides recognized Hermione's prowess with magic.

All of this happened because I flippantly asked to test out of classes early last Christmas break, knowing that I'd be turned down. From that question spoken in jest, Dumbledore managed to gain political momentum for himself, me, Hermione, and Hogwarts, as well as strike a blow against the pro-purebloods. On top of that he was well ahead of his planned maintenance to Hogwarts, and slightly under-budget as well. All of this was entrenched in the media complete with pictures and detailed articles, making the gains irrefutable by any political detractor. As I said before, Dumbledore plays games that make everyone else look like amateurs.

Christmas.

Everything went downhill at Christmas. Me, Hermione, Pansy and her parents were all over at the Burrow on Christmas Eve. The Parkinsons were trying to bury the pureblood hatchet with my friends, and were doing a pretty good job of it. Since I was now 'part of the family,' it gave them both the excuse and the foot-in-the-door to do so. Judging by the loud conversation and large smiles on everyone's faces, they were succeeding.

Hermione sat next to me, holding my hand under the table. Pansy sat on my other side, and would occasionally elbow me to emphasize whatever she was talking about. Ginny was on the other side of Hermione, trying to figure out how to switch places with her. I appreciated that Ginny hadn't been mean or pushy about it, but she was certainly determined in her own quiet way.

Ron had teamed up with the twins to pester Percy about his bookishness, which was the center of a blazing row on the other side of the table. Mrs. Weasley would have been all over them for being rude, but she was currently caught up in a conversation with Mrs. Parkinson, catching up on all the gossip that she'd missed, and offering a bit of her own.

Mr. Weasley, Mr. Parkinson, Bill, and Charlie were all swapping stories of their various jobs -- Mr. Weasley's job may not have paid much, but he definitely had the best stories. Biting toilet seats in a public washroom? I'd pay good money to see that.

Hermione, Pansy and I were talking amongst ourselves; a lot of the conversation was me telling stories about the interesting things I'd gotten into with Hagrid and Filch. I invited Ginny to sit with us to keep her from feeling left out and the girls were good with her, sitting her right in-between them on the couch when we left the table.

That's what I really enjoyed about both Hermione and Pansy: Hearts gold, the both of them. Coming from a large family with a lot of older brothers, Ginny was very receptive to being held or carried. She was very quickly spread out across Hermione's lap, with her legs on Pansy's, listing to me talk about school. Ginny reminded me of a very large playful cat: Very mischievous, but a sucker for attention. As far as I was concerned, it was a perfect night; one of those nights that you committed to memory as the definition of happiness.

With a deafening roar, the moment was gone.

The house rocked as though a giant was shaking it; pictures fell from the walls, plates jumped off the table to smash on the floor. Everyone was thrown to the ground, and the adults and I scrambled to erect dome shields above the others as the support beams creaked and groaned with the strain. I had all three girls under my shield, all holding each other and me. Several moments passed with everyone counting the cracks and shifts, waiting for the structure to collapse.

With Fawkes' telltale burst of flame, Dumbledore appeared in the middle of us all, in between the living room and kitchen. I could just make him out through my shield as he aimed his wand up, and with a thunderous series of cracks the building righted itself.

"Your home is secure," he said. "What you have just experienced is the shockwave of a tremendous explosion to the north. Azkaban prison has fallen."

I wasn't aware of Azkaban and its reputation, but I could see the seriousness of the situation in the pole axed looks on the adults' faces. There was an ominous silence that followed Dumbledore's statement that was worse than any sound could have been. It was Dumbledore who broke the silence, commanding in his General's tone.

"Marius, William, place as heavy a set of wards around this house as you possibly can, but be quick. Molly, Livia and Arthur, come with me. Harry, gather everyone else around you. I will arrange for transportation to the Dursleys. Just stun them to shut them up; we'll deal with them later."

Within moments of that statement, me, the younger Weasleys, Pansy, and Hermione found ourselves on a one-way Portkey ride to Privet Drive. We landed right in the living room, with all three Dursleys sitting on the couch, looking gob smacked. I wasted no time in following Dumbledore's commands.

"Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy. Make yourselves at home, people; we might be here for awhile."

"Hey!" exclaimed Ron, "Where's Scabbers?! He was right on my shoulder when we left!"

Everyone just shrugged their shoulders. I knew why some people might not have been able to make the trip, but not a rat. Any discussion of the matter was cut off by the fiery arrival of Professor Dumbledore.

"Everyone will be safe here from anything hostile!" he announced to everyone. "Charlie, please keep the muggles stunned, I will deal with them later. Harry, I need you with me; we're going to Hogwarts."

My response was drowned out by Hermione's and Pansy's cries of "NO!" Pansy ran to Dumbledore, crying "Where are my parents?!"

"Marius is assisting with barricading key houses and structures with William Weasley and other allies of mine. Livia is on duty with her Obliviator squad dealing with muggle reactions." Dumbledore then turned to the Weasleys. "Arthur is at the Ministry helping to secure the building from forced entry; Molly is rousing more of our allies to assist us.

"Now, we have no more time for talk; Harry, with me!"

I kissed Hermione quickly and hugged her; Pansy joined in, hugging us both. "Come back," she said. "I won't lose family because of this; come back to me."

"Both of us," Hermione corrected her. "Please be safe."

"I promise," I said, squeezing both girls tightly. "I'll be back."

As I let Hermione and Pansy go, I saw a very conflicted Ginny standing there with a tear running down her face; she was obviously unhappy with my leaving, but wasn't quite comfortable enough to hug me on her own.

"Come here, Ginny," I said, holding my arms out. The short girl jumped up into my arms, and I held her to me. "I have to go help Professor Dumbledore, now. You'll be okay here. Alright?" Ginny shook her head forcefully, hugging me harder. "Come on Ginny; I have to go. Be strong for me, and look after Hermione and Pansy. I know you can; I've seen your hexes. Can you do that for me?" Slowly, Ginny nodded her head, and she reluctantly let me go and walked over to the other two girls, who put their arms around her.

I smiled at the three of them, clapped Ron on the shoulder, and walked over to Dumbledore. "I'm ready, sir." Dumbledore put his hand on my shoulder, and in a burst of flame, we were gone.

We appeared in the Great Hall, and Dumbledore rushed off at a great pace, with me jogging to keep up. "What are we doing, sir?" I asked.

"There is a room in Hogwarts called the Chamber of Secrets," he replied. "It was originally built by Salazar Slytherin, but Voldemort has gained access in the past. I believe that he has gained access to it again in our absence."

"But... I thought that he couldn't enter Hogwarts again." I said uncertainly; Dumbledore had spent the summer adjusting the wards; had he failed?

"The wards are now drawing from your protection charm; he said." While you are here, it should become very difficult for Voldemort to operate at Hogwarts. If I could have, I'd have brought the Dursleys here permanently, but Hogwarts is public domain, so it won't work properly. It's not that specifically that I need you for, however.

"Only a Parseltongue -- one that can speak to snakes -- can open the Chamber. If I'm correct, Voldemort may have passed that on to you."

"And if he didn't...?" I asked. I had never talked to a snake before, so I didn't know if I could or couldn't.

"Then I'll open the Chamber by force," he replied, his eyes flashing with power.

We passed signs of battle all over the place, accented now and then by the body of a fallen professor. I sucked my breath in when we passed Filch's body; the thought he wouldn't have been able to defend himself made it so much more painful to see him splayed out across the corridor, staring at the sky. His cat, the red-eyed Mrs. Norris, was wailing pitifully by his side, occasionally nudging the side of his face as if hoping he would wake up. As soon as she saw me, Mrs. Norris ran to me and jumped into my arms. She buried her face into the crevice near my elbow and continued to wail. I wanted nothing more than to stop and pet her, and tell her that she'd be all right, but Dumbledore didn't slow down at all, and Mrs. Norris had already put me five paces behind. Holding the trembling cat tightly, I pushed for more speed and caught up.

I silently thanked whatever God was watching me when we found McGonagall, Hagrid, Snape, and Flitwick. They joined with us on the second floor and Dumbledore lead us all to the same girl's lavatory that I fought the Troll in last year. "The entrance is here," Dumbledore said. "Harry, visualize talking to a snake, and command the entrance to open. I don't know what specifically to say."

I focused on there being a large snake in front of me, and tried to talk to it. "Open the Chamber," I said, hoping that it would work. My voice started out in English, but slowly turned into a sibilant chorus of hisses and clicks. I repeated the phrase, and after I successfully said the word "open" in Parseltongue, the wall began a slow transformation into a large staircase down.

We carefully followed the steps down into a large round tunnel. I had to open one more doorway using Parseltongue, which opened the way to an enormous vaulted chamber like the one Dumbledore used for the Mirror of Erised last year. Unlike that chamber, though, this one was dark, with pillars made from what looked like Obsidian, and large effigies of snakes and wizards, their arms raised in supplication. On the far side of the chamber was an enormous stone carving of the face of Salazar Slytherin.

What captured everyone's attention, though, was the bloodied, lacerated man crawling towards us, calling my name.

"Harry... Harry... I-I'm sorry... I couldn't stop him. Harry..." I stared in horror at the blood trailing out of his mouth, the enormous holes in his chest, and the furry patches and fleshy tail still showing on his body.

"Scabbers...?" I said, remembering Ron's missing rat.

"Oh my God," Dumbledore exclaimed, breathless. "Peter Pettigrew."

The Professors scoured the Chamber, but it was empty aside from Pettigrew. Dumbledore tended to his injuries in mere seconds, but the damage done by the venom in his body had left him beyond saving. Fawkes' tears provided a powerful healing base, and it gave Peter a few minutes to talk before he died. Dumbledore also confirmed with Legilimency that this man --an animagus, and former friend of my parents -- had been possessed by Voldemort and used to enter the Chamber.

It came as a shock to know that this man was responsible for betraying my parents as well. Dumbledore explained to me the Fidelius Charm, and the double-blind that my parents had set up by using Peter as their secret keeper. "Even I believed that it was Sirius they had chosen," he said. "Sirius will have escaped with the rest of the Azkaban prisoners, especially if he is an animagus. I must find him immediately before the Aurors and Hit Wizards do. Get what you can out of Peter, Harry." With that, Dumbledore disappeared.

"I tried to keep it from Him when he found me," Peter told me, his inflection telling me he was speaking of Voldemort. "I tried, but He can read minds so easily, and the Dementors made it impossible to think straight. I folded before I even knew what I was doing. S-S-Sirius came after me, and we dueled. I tried to explain that I didn't mean it, but h-he knew that you have to offer the information to break the F-Fidelius. I s-s-swear to you, Harry, I didn't do it because I wanted to. I t-tried to be brave, but I could never stand Dementors, and couldn't do Occlumency. H-H-He made me feel worthless, made me feel like I had no choice... Then he Marked me, and I felt dirty and wretched.

"I hid after Sirius was taken away. I didn't want to be f-f-found with the Mark. I stayed in my r-r-rat form. Everything was so much s-s-simpler that way. When I s-s-saw you, I wanted to be close to you, Harry. B-But I didn't think you'd forgive me for what happened. Y-Your parents are dead because of me, and S-Sirius is --was-- in Azkaban.

"When He possessed me, I fought with everything I had, b-but it wasn't enough. H-H-He wanted my knowledge of being an a-animagus for something. W-When He had access to the Chamber, H-He left me. T-Then th-the b-b-basilisk came back. Tried not to l-look at it; tried to change back to a rat, but it was too fast." Peter's voice was fading now, his breathing very shallow. "I-I'm s-s-s-sorry, Harry."

With those last words, Peter Pettigrew, last and least of the Marauders, died in the arms of his one-time arch rival, Severus Snape. I'd have been touched if the blasted coward hadn't gotten my parents killed. Snape, a decent Legilimens in his own right, as it turned out, assured me that he had been telling the truth, "At least as much as he remembers it. We must allow for the fact that the Dark Lord is a master at mind games; Pettigrew likely believed that he had already betrayed the location before he offered up the information."

"I'd like to know how Voldemort knew he was the secret-keeper in the first place," I said. Snape just shrugged his shoulders and looked away. I was too focused on Pettigrew's cooling body to catch that guilty gesture, though.

In about two hours Dumbledore returned with a shaken and slightly insane Sirius Black. A little over a decade of Dementors will do that to you, I suppose. His only saving grace was some preliminary training in Occlumency and his animagus capabilities, which allowed him to remain in his canine form and prevent the Dementors from scrambling his higher-order brain functions with their radiating despair. It took several calming draughts and some careful Legilimency on Dumbledore's part to force the memories of Azkaban to the back of Sirius' mind, and return him to some sense of stability. I could picture Voldemort needing to work on quite a few of his Death Eaters in this manner, too.

It wasn't a fair trade off in any way, shape or form: We got one man back, and lost one half-rat, half-traitor; Voldemort got most of his people back, and had a bunch of wanted felons out causing chaos to keep the DMLE busy. On top of that, Azkaban, both castle and island, had been completely destroyed. Only a lonely pair of rocks jutting out of the water marked the former location of the island fortress.

To top it off, Dumbledore analyzed what Peter said and the memories he saw, and came to a very depressing conclusion: Apparently Slytherin had a 1000-year-old basilisk in the Chamber, which Voldemort had now possessed. With the knowledge of taking an Animagus form that he stole from Peter, Voldemort could reverse the process and force the basilisk's body to become humanoid, essentially granting him a virtually immortal and somewhat-human form. Any and all thoughts of celebrating Christmas had been quashed by the chaos that now ruled wizarding Britain.

I was mobbed by three nearly hysterical girls when I returned to Privet Drive, as well as a number of other people asking what had happened.

"I didn't duel anyone," I said in a monotone voice. "I'm fine. Your rat's dead, Ron. Voldemort used him to rampage through Hogwarts, so we're also short a few professors. I have a godfather now, and Voldemort's got all his Death Eaters that were in Azkaban. Apparently Voldemort can blow up small islands, because Azkaban's completely gone. Oh, and Voldemort has a new immortal and poisonous body now."

Silence. What could anyone have said, after all?

"Harry, you'll need to remain here, at Privet Drive. We'll use this location as a main staging ground, since Voldemort cannot reach us here." The thought of being stuck at Privet Drive was horrifying, but something in the back of my head clicked. For the first time since the summer, I remembered what Dumbledore had told me last year about my protection, and what a small sentimental gesture Pansy and I shared in the summer might enable me to do.

"Professor, any direct blood relation to me would work, right?" Dumbledore nodded at me, and I turned to Pansy. "Hey Pansy, can I live with you, wherever you are? Please say yes."

"Wha-? Of course you can," she said, confused. I felt a small tug on my magic right near my heart as soon as she finished talking, and I knew instinctively that the magic had altered to match the agreement.

"Awesome!" I said with a huge smile on my face. "Professor, do we have somewhere better to be? Everything should switch over around... January 14th, I think."

Everyone looked confused except for Hermione and Dumbledore. Hermione had easily caught on and was beaming at me; Dumbledore pulled out his wand and cast a couple of advanced revealing spells at me before pumping his fist in the air with a shout of triumph. "Yes! Wonderful, Harry! Alright, everyone should stay here for the time being, as others will know to come here; Harry, Pansy, I'll be back in a few hours with transportation to a secure location."

Thus concludes the good part of 1992. From here, things get really, really bad.