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: Ah, December! I do so enjoy the freedom to write; I have several challenges that I wanted to take up, and they're slowly being worked on. I also have Chapter 11 for MEtyK brewing, as well. For now, I offer you this chapter, as I begin to stir this cauldron a little faster…

~TOW

Vendetta, Part 1: The Weasleys

=========================

"Duro!"

"Finite." Two hundred three...

"Duro!"

"Finite." Two hundred four...

Over and over, the robes hanging across the room from him shifted between stone and cloth as Harry worked his spells. This spell, Duro, was something Hermione had dug up that had proven very useful against the Death Eaters last year. Several ideas sprung to mind on how to best use this in a duel, but first, he needed the spell up to speed.

"Duro!"

"Finite." Two hundred twenty-seven...

"Duro!"

"Finite." Two hundred twenty-eight...

September was crawling by very slowly, every day punctuated by helping students practice spells, prefect meetings, nightly rounds, and a reasonably large amount of homework. More and more, the demands of the school year ate away at Harry's time, leaving only the morning hours of each day to practice and exercise. Ginny, too, seemed to quail under the strain of her schoolwork, the need for intense practice of any new spell eating away at her time.

To make matters worse, wizarding Britain seemed to be coming back to life. Owls arrived from the Ministry almost daily, demanding Harry's attention to matters that he felt were still quite above him. Most of the letters were from Kingsley, however, so he answered them diligently, providing answers to the new Minister in a manner that reminded him of Dumbledore advising Fudge.

One such letter, however, was not simply a request for advice, or information from the late Headmaster's journals. It was an invitation, and the importance of the event did not escape his notice. Finally, something to look forward to, he thought. Ginny would need to hear about this the next time they walked to the lake.

-----

"Kingsley expects me to attend this function," Harry said, idly sending waves across the lake, much to the joy of the giant squid. "I figure that it's a formal event, so that means dinner and dancing, a lot of hand-shaking and brown-nosing, several reporters, and, if I'm really unlucky, a short speech of some sort."

"Sounds like so much fun," Ginny said dryly.

"Don't they all? Well, at least it's not just a press gathering, so there's some fun to be had. What do I have to bribe you with to get you to come with me?"

"The twenty-sixth, was it? I actually don't think I can," she said, shaking her head. "Fleur's family is coming up for the weekend, and Mum expects me to be there. She's actually expecting you there, too."

"Ah, wonderful: The Ministry and the Weasleys collide." They laughed for a moment, before Ginny's smile faded.

"I'll break it to Mum that you're playing politician that night; as long as you can make an appearance on Sunday, I'm sure she'll be happy. I can guarantee you that she won't hear anything about me not being there, though."

"Oh, well," Harry sighed. "It would have been a nice time."

"You're telling me; this is probably the first time you've sounded eager to dance, and I can't go."

Harry grinned, but it eventually faded into a slight frown, which he tried to hide by turning and charming more waves across the lake. After a few moments of silence, he felt Ginny's arms encircle him from behind. "This isn't one of those 'date-optional' events, is it?"

Harry shook his head, but was otherwise silent.

"Who will you take with you?" she asked, hanging her head over his shoulder. "Would Hermione go with you?"

Harry shrugged and nodded. "Probably; I don't know if she'd drop everything to do it, but I'll definitely ask."

Ginny nodded against him. "It'd cause a lot less commotion, I think. I'd also feel a lot better if you're going with someone I know."

"Fair," Harry conceded. "I'll ask her later today."

-----

The day passed quickly, Harry's train of thought interrupted by the countless details that were now his responsibility as Head Boy. Before he knew it, classes were over, and he found himself hunched over his desk, penning an essay for Charms that was assigned earlier in the day. It would have been a difficult research assignment, but for Dumbledore's books. More and more, he was grateful for their presence; not only did they contain advanced magics and practices, but they also contained enough day-to-day wisdom that school projects such as this essay were ridiculously easy. All that remained now was to cite a few books from the library, and--

"HARRY!"

His quill dropped as he spun in surprise at Hermione's voice. The portrait had barely closed when Hermione rushed across to where he was. "I DID IT!" she shouted. "I DID IT, I DID IT!"

"What'd you do?" He asked, holding onto her hands while she bounced in place.

"I- What you asked- I did it! Look!" Tearing away from Harry, Hermione jumped and -- hovered. Suspended by magic alone, Hermione suddenly flew backwards, completing a graceful loop around the room before coming back to float in front of Harry, a slight golden glow emanating from her body.

"You found it!" Harry shouted, leaping to tackle Hermione in a hug. He felt Hermione grunt and her magic expand; Hermione put her arms around him, easily holding him aloft.

"I thought- that was so quick- I was sure-" Words would not form properly for him.

"I thought it would be harder, too," she said. "But it's so simple; it's just an augmentation of Apparition!" As she spoke, Hermione's voice slipped into lecture mode; Harry had no intentions of interrupting her. "You're creating the space-time flux without actually travelling through it, you see. You're using it to fold space in the direction you want to go, while expanding it behind you. I couldn't believe it: Apparition is a gravity effect! Once I found that out, controlling it and toning it down to fly was so simple-"

"-to you," Harry said, cutting into Hermione's explanation. "Every time I think you can't possibly surprise me more, you do the impossible."

"For you."

Harry had no answer to that statement other than to tighten his embrace, and Hermione did likewise. Several moments passed while they floated there, held aloft and weightless by Hermione's power. A sensation of movement brought Harry's attention back to his surroundings; Hermione had moved them to hover over the couch, and she slowly lowered them down, until the magic was removed completely, and they were sitting.

Hermione's day-planner appeared in front of her, floating obediently at writing level, along with a quill and ink vial. "Before we get into flying," she said, "I wanted to go over the next prefect meeting with you."

"Sure; what's our agenda?"

"The prefects have been doing their jobs, but they're going to need our help to coordinate across the houses. There are three major things to set up this year: A properly monitored gathering place inside the castle for students, one that isn't segregated by house; Some form of house competition aside from Quidditch, something that's open to most of the house, rather than a select few; and some sort of tutoring program that allows older students to assist younger ones, and receive some sort of credit."

Harry blew out a breath. "That's a tall order," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, then… The gathering place can be sorted out well enough, we just need to rework the prefect schedules, and have McGonagall find us a chunk of the castle to use. The rest is advertising." Hermione nodded, jotting down notes as Harry spoke.

"The tutoring thing can be worked right into that, unless you wanted a separate area…?" Hermione shook her head, and Harry continued.

"Okay, so same area, at least two prefects or one professor on duty at all times, and at least one volunteer per house for tutoring…?"

"Best to make it two per house," Hermione said. "Optimally, each with a different subject, so that eight subjects have tutors available per night."

"That works," Harry said. "Alright, then, we're once again down to advertising for that one. Now, a competition…"

"It shouldn't be exclusive," Hermione interjected. "Whatever it is, it needs to be open to most years."

"Alright, so dueling is out… I guess class-based contests would work: Transfiguration contests, like who can design the most elaborate furniture or how many different animals you can transfigure out of a chair; Charms could be something like showcasing enchanted items, like Fred and George used to do…"

"Those are great ideas!" Hermione said, scribbling furiously across a page in her book. "Defense could hold dueling contests between houses in the same year, I guess; and Potions could have a brewing competition for the fastest Pepper-Up, or something else that Madam Pomfrey needs. The theory classes can have group projects to present… Harry, this is fantastic!"

Harry felt his cheeks heat up a little at Hermione's praise. "It sounds like we know where to go with this. Once again, we're back to advertising."

"I can take care of all of that," Hermione said, finishing her notes. Her planner closed with an audible snap, and disappeared with the ink and quill to wherever Hermione had banished it. Harry raised an eyebrow at the display, a smile forming as he shook his head.

"Do you even notice when you do that?" he asked. Hermione fought away a blush, but her shoulders straightened at the implied compliment.

"It's gotten easier and easier for me," she said. "I don't even think about it now; if I thought I could get away with it, I'd never use a wand in class anymore, not even for the new spells."

"I'm glad you're figuring it out," Harry said. "I'll be very happy to pass on the spotlight to you, as you dazzle the wizarding world with your skills."

Hermione gave his shoulder a push, but her smile was dazzling. "You're being very nice to me tonight; is there something you want?" She stood and walked over to her desk, picking up a textbook. It was one of Hermione's most amusing and endearing traits in Harry's mind: She could never be without a book.

"Right in one," he said, lying back to rest his head on the couch's armrest. "I'm hoping that you'll go with me to the International Confederation Conference on the twenty-sixth."

Hermione's book fell from her hands, dropping heavily against the floor. "What? But... surely you'd be taking Ginny." She walked over to the couch, the book floating back to her hands, seemingly of its own accord.

"You're right, and I asked her. The Weasleys and Delacours are getting together that weekend, though. Ginny hinted that her Mum would disown her or something if she missed it, so she can't go."

"But, that's not right," Hermione said, frowning. "This is an important event, and Ginny should be seen with you. It's not as if there won't be more family get-togethers; a conference like this is a rare occurrence, though. She should be champing at the bit to go with you."

Harry shrugged. "I'd love to say she was, but she's not. It's probably just leftover hard feelings from the war. I can understand if Mrs. Weasley wants her family close; it hasn't been very long."

Hermione made her familiar noise of disapproval, and turned back to her book. "Still should go with you," she muttered, barely audible.

"Does this mean you won't go with me?" Hermione looked up with a frown, obviously ready to continue arguing for Ginny. Harry tried to keep his disappointment from showing, both on his face and in his mind. Hermione's expression softened immediately, however, which meant he hadn't been fast enough.

"It's not that at all," she said, reaching over for his hand; Harry leaned over to take hers. "I'd love to go with you. It's just... I'd think that after all that's happened, Ginny would realize that your needs are just a little more important than her mother's. She is entertaining thoughts of marrying you, you know."

"No, I wouldn't really know," Harry said, shrugging his back shoulder. "Ginny's had a whole lifetime of Weasley family values, and a lot of those values revolve around always coming home for dinner. I can understand, I suppose, but..."

He trailed off as his thoughts meandered down a darker road; a form of introspection that Harry hadn't considered since well before his desperate hunt for the Horcruxes.

"Harry?"

Her hand and presence caressed him, offering comfort in a way that only Hermione could. Only she had been there, only she had...

"My home's... mobile," Harry said, voicing his thoughts aloud. "It's... wherever I feel most comfortable at the moment. Most of the time that's Hogwarts, but the Burrow's felt like it. Even," he looked at Hermione, "even that tent felt like home a few times, with you there."

"But-!"

"I know Ron was missing, but it was tense with him around. It hurt without him, but we managed, and I felt... responsible. We lived together, we managed to stay ahead of any pursuers, we followed the shaky plans we made. We even survived on one wand." Hermione reddened a little as he said this. "So... it felt like home. I was comfortable, even with the stress."

"I guess... what are you trying to say?"

He frowned, choosing his words slowly. "My idea of home is where I have easy access to the people I care about: You, Ron, and Ginny. Ginny's idea of home is the Burrow, and I don't think that's ever going to change."

"I'm sure that Ginny would compare any home she had to the Burrow."

"I don't want to live near the Burrow," Harry said, cutting Hermione off nearly before she had finished. "I'm not entirely comfortable at the Burrow as it is; too many people. And I'm not going to let my life revolve around Mrs. Weasley and her needs."

"I thought you liked having a family."

Harry shook his head. "I always wanted parents; I always wanted to have people that cared for me. Never in all of that did I say I wanted less than absolute control of my life." There, he thought, he had said it. Control; this is about control.

"It can't be that bad," she said. "Surely you can talk this out with Mrs. Weasley. Didn't you say you liked being doted on?" There was a trace of sadness in Hermione's eyes as she spoke; Harry clamped down harder on his mind; his inner thoughts were not currently up for consumption.

"I do, but not if it's going to interfere with my life." Harry sighed, his frustration was beginning to show, and he wanted nothing more than to regain the feeling of contentment he had not five minutes ago. "Look, it's not like I'm holding this against Ginny personally or anything; I can't help but feel let down. I mean sure, it's good to support your family, but Ginny can't make me second-string to them in the long term, I won't put up with that."

"I think that everyone has their own set of priorities, Harry; you can't be right at the top of someone's list, especially in the case of family."

A spark of anger lit in Harry's mind; did Hermione have to defend the Weasleys so stubbornly. Mutinous thoughts raced through his head, and before he could censor them, he spoke. "You had me at the top of your priorities," he said. "You altered your parents' minds and sent them away so that you could come with me."

"I…" Hermione seemed both surprised and stricken at Harry's words; Harry waited a moment, but Hermione seemed to be unable to answer.

"I'd have done the same for you," he said, breaking the silence.

There was a light brush against his thoughts. "...I know," she said finally, her voice quiet. "I... I can see that."

"Ginny wouldn't have done that," he said. "Ginny would have chosen her family over me, if forced to."

"Harry, these are such dark thoughts, you sound like... before." The implication of Hermione's words was evident.

"I can't erase those years," Harry whispered, a haunted look in his eyes. "I remember all too well what it's like to feel worthless. I need at least one person that I can trust to place me as their highest priority. If I can't trust Ginny like that... then what's the point?"

Hermione said nothing, but she moved over to wrap Harry in a hug, her presence expanding through his mind.

"Shh... it's okay," she said, rocking him back and forth. "This isn't your best day. You'll feel differently tomorrow, it'll be better, I promise."

-----

True to Hermione's prediction, Harry's mood was markedly better the next day. The prefect meeting went off without issue, and volunteers slowly began to trickle in. It was a slow process, especially from Slytherin, but even they eventually filled their quotas for tutoring. The first and second year students made extensive use of the new meeting area, and slowly the higher years began to show up as well. Most students came for help with assignments at first, but as one week went by, then two, tentative friendships blossomed, and the traffic to the area increased greatly. Now, with September nearly over, the first of the House Contests were posted in the gathering place and every common room, to the students' general excitement.

Aside from the hours Harry put into these projects, Harry continued to push himself physically and magically. Gradually, under Hermione's instruction and mental guidance, Harry developed the art of flight. Far from a simple spell, the entire affair needed just as much, if not more, guidance than his Firebolt did. While not particularly draining on its own, maintaining what he began to think of as a constant Apparition did exhaust him after a time. Between his own diligence and Hermione's long talks about space-time magics, his mastery over flight improved.

Harry quickly figured out a side-benefit as well: While space could apparently be 'folded' to move you physically through it like flying, it could also be folded in such as way as to inhibit movement, acting in all respects like a weight machine, resisting his movements at every angle, even making it harder to run.

Finally, his Firebolt could rest; Harry had become his own gym.

By the end of September, Harry could begin to see the results of his efforts in all areas. Hermione had worked out the tailoring charms to adjust his robes as the last vestiges of the scrawny youth Harry used to be disappeared under a layer of wiry muscle. His grades were close to Hermione's in Herbology and Potions, roughly equal in Transfiguration and, to his surprise, slightly higher in Charms and Defense.

The chatter in the Great Hall during mealtimes was near-to-deafening now, as large groups of friends dominated the house tables, usually with a prefect or two at their center. Even Ron, who remained distant to Harry, could be seen entertaining a large set of first years, retelling stories of adventures past while the younger kids hung off his every word.

"It seems as though your plans are succeeding," McGonagall said to him on the way to breakfast one morning. "The student body as a whole is in very high spirits, and there have only been ten points, ten points, removed between all the houses."

"That's great news!"

"It is, indeed." McGonagall's smile faltered a little, and she gave a small sigh. "If only it was as easy on the professors." Harry tilted his head, and McGonagall elaborated. "The theory courses are progressing almost as planned; nothing's changed there. But all the practical courses now require intensive practice with spells in order to master them. That practice not only cuts into class time, but the amount of time that students have to devote to studies; it's there that the theory courses are affected."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione said, her brow creasing. Harry chuckled; of course Hermione wouldn't notice anything amiss, being light-years ahead of anything that Hogwarts had to offer.

"You wouldn't, Miss Granger," McGonagall said with a wry grin, voicing Harry's opinion. "Every single class is now a full week behind in coursework. We've had to slow down across the board to give students enough time to master the practical material before moving on. What's more is that the greatest delays were just this last week, which leads to my fear that we will have to slow our progress even further in future months."

"I thought that the workload had tapered off a little..." Harry said. Hermione frowned; McGonagall chuckled.

"It isn't just Hogwarts," McGonagall continued. "When you see Kingsley, I'm sure he'll tell you that Aurors in training have similar issues with new magics learned in the Academy. Naturally, as adults they have a faster learning curve, and they're hardly bound by the strictures of a school year, but still..."

"...They're affected," Harry finished.

"This is all very strange," Hermione said, pulling at a lock of her hair as they entered the Great Hall. "What could have happened globally that would create difficulties in learning magic?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," McGonagall said. "I know that research has begun to ferret out the cause, but for now, we're stuck waiting."
Harry and Hermione separated from the Headmistress, sitting beside Hagrid to eat.

"Do you have any ideas as to what it might be?" Hermione asked as they loaded their plates.

"Not sure," he offered with a shrug. "The only constant across to board with magic is Astronomy, and it's the only factor I could see affecting the world equally. I'm betting that it'll be something to that effect that's causing this."

"Mmm," Hermione said, nodding fervently and swallowing her food quickly. "That's a good point. We don't know if other countries are affected the same way we are. That would be really good to know."

"Well, you'll get your chance in a week, at the convention." Hermione smiled at Harry's statement, and he felt her excitement spill over into his mind. Not for the first time, Harry was glad that Hermione was going with him.

Hermione's magic coursed around him, and all sound from the Great Hall was gone. Harry turned to see Hermione looking at him with a slightly conflicted look on her face.

"I just wanted some privacy for this," she said. "I crammed Silencio, Confundo and the Illusory Terrain Charm together, so no one will notice a thing. As far as they're concerned, we're still actively listening and talking to them."

"I should be surprised," Harry said, "but I'm not." Hermione smiled for a moment, but it was lost in her previous expression.

"Would you like to dance? Practice, I mean." Harry froze; his mind was spinning as he processed the unexpected request. Dance practice with Hermione?

"Alright…" he offered hesitantly, his head quirking to the side.

"It's just that, well... You're going to a big event," she said, wringing her hands nervously. "It would probably win points for you to look as sophisticated as possible. That means knowing the little things. You know... table manners, dancing..."

"I guess."

"I don't mean anything by it!" she blurted, her nervousness seeming to increase. "I just know you haven't danced much, and there are almost never formal dinners, so…"

Harry placed a hand lightly on Hermione's mouth, silencing her.

"I seem to recall saying that I enjoyed you taking care of me," he said softly. "If you think it's important, then I'll practice." Hermione put on a soft smile, and Harry instinctively wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

When they separated, Hermione cancelled her spell, and they rejoined the conversations occurring around them, no one noticing their departure. Harry suppressed his amusement: Apparently the Confundus charm lingered a bit, judging by the vacant looks in everyone's eyes. He made a mental note to talk to Hermione later; perhaps that Illusory Terrain Charm would come in handy, after all.

-----

Dancing, Harry decided, was amazing. It was especially so when he shared a mental link with his partner, making synchronized movements a painless endeavor. He and Hermione glided effortlessly around her room, music playing from a small wireless on Hermione's nightstand. With Hermione able to echo every move, Harry made bold, sweeping steps and turns that he would never attempt with another partner.

"I'm sure we'll look wonderful on the dance floor," he commented as they turned, "even if we are cheating."

"If this is what cheating gets me, I'm all for it!" Hermione laughed.

All too quickly, the month of September drew to a close, and Harry was smoothing out his dress robes and charming his hair to lie flat, while Hermione took the necessary hours to tame her unruly mane. By silent agreement, they both exited their rooms at the same time, and each smiled as they appraised the other.

"You look amazing," Harry said as he took in Hermione's dress. She still favored her blue and silver colors, and memories of the Tri-Wizard Yule Ball flashed through his mind; but now Hermione was grown, and looked...

"Magnificent."

"I'm glad you approve," Hermione said, giggling. She reached over, and ran her finger across the black silk and gold designs on his dress robes. "You cut a fine figure yourself."

"We're in main reception hall, just off the Atrium in the Ministry," Harry said, taking her arm. "You seem to be breaking the rules of magic left, right and center. Think you can just take us to the Atrium from here?"

Hermione's smile became a smirk, and Harry was engulfed in her magic as it rolled off her body, enveloping him. The room distorted, and with almost no delay it reformed into the Ministry Atrium. Their sudden arrival caused a stir, and Harry walked Hermione gracefully through the crowded floor: the press gave way respectfully; the pureblooded politicians bowed slightly as they deferred to him; the Aurors saluted him as they would their superior; the Minister of Magic clapped his shoulder and shook his hand, addressing him as an equal.

"I'm glad to see you here, Harry!" Kingsley said, his deep baritone carrying throughout the hall. "And Miss Granger, too! You look stunning tonight!"

"Thank you, Minister," Hermione replied, a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Nonsense!" He said, brushing away the formality. "To the both of you, I am forever Kingsley."

Cameras flashed quietly as the three bantered lightly as old friends; in a way, they were. Aside from the three of them and the Weasleys, only nine other core Order members remained alive: Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Aberforth, Hagrid, McGonagall, Sturgis Podmore, Mundungus, and Hestia Jones. Others had helped, but it was this circle that Harry felt closest to from the war; it was these people who would mourn the loss of friends and family more deeply, who had fought the longest and hardest to achieve the victory that had been won.

And so, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger spoke to the Minister as equals and sat at his table; and the press took notice.

Kingsley had come with Hestia as a date, and the two chatted easily with Harry and Hermione. The rest of the table was made up of British delegates to the International Confederation of Wizards. Dinner was a sedate affair; wizards from across the world stopped to shake his hand and exchange small talk, but for the most part, Harry was left alone, talking quietly with Hermione, Hestia, and Kingsley.

"You seem happy to be here," Hermione commented while the others were discussing Ministry Policy.

"I am," Harry replied with a smile. "This might sound funny, but it's almost like I'm treated like an equal in this room: No more attention than anyone else, and not much less."

"A lot of them are being careful," Hermione said, discretely pointing out several people. "There are a few, like Germany and France, that obviously want to talk more with you, but they don't know how to approach you, I think."

"Well, I'm not about to make their job any easier." Hermione frowned at Harry's smirk while he said this, but she didn't comment.

"I wonder who those people are," Hermione said, pointing at a far table. Seated there were a severe-looking group of wizards, all in white robes with red trim.

"Those robes look like Auror uniforms," Harry said, shrugging. "Another country's law enforcement, maybe?"

"Who are those people?" Harry asked Kingsley. "Over there, in the white and red?"

Kingsley's expression darkened. "Vatican Inquisitors," he replied. "It's never a good thing to see them around." Seeing Harry's confusion, Kingsley motioned for him to lean in closer.

"I'm not big on religion, but the Vatican keeps its people largely to itself; they only come out when there's something going on that they consider a serious threat."

"A real threat, or just religious?"

"They certainly didn't lift a finger against Grindelwald or Voldemort," Kingsley said.

"Maybe they thought it would be a breach of international treaty..." Hermione suggested, listening in.

Kingsley was shaking his head before she had finished speaking. "There were open cries for help from all countries affected by the wars; they never came. Now, when the war is over, they want to start snooping around like they own the place."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, a worried look on her face.

"They have Unspeakable-class clearance in all Ministries by international treaty. There are a few stipulations of non-interference in there, but the kind of information they have access to makes it easy for them to get their way through blackmail." Hermione looked unsatisfied, but Kingsley quickly changed the subject, interrupting any further discussion.

"Are you two enjoying yourselves?" He asked; Harry and Hermione assured him they were. "That's good to hear.

"There are a few speeches just after dinner, but nothing should concern you. If you had needed to speak or do anything, I'd have been informed of it beforehand."

"That's great," Harry said. Tension that he didn't realize was building faded away; he had no responsibilities, he could just enjoy the night.

"I'm sure that you'll be talking to a few more people before the night is out though," Kingsley warned, and Harry nodded absently, far too happy to worry.

Dinner soon gave way to speeches, and Harry passed his time speaking quietly with Hermione. Throughout their conversation, Harry could feel Hermione's anticipation building as the speeches drew to a close. Once the final speaker finished, Hermione turned excitedly to Harry. Harry cocked his head to the side. What was --ah, the dance floor was opening. A smile grew on Harry's face, and he held his hand out to Hermione, who grabbed it enthusiastically.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow at the pair. "You're starting the dancing?" he said. "That's pretty brave of you."

"Well, we have a good reason to be celebrating," Harry said, his smile never fading. "You should dance, too; our whole table should." Murmurs of agreement sounded from all corners, and shortly the whole British delegation took to the floor. A few couples from other tables joined, leaving the dance floor mostly open.
The music started with a simple waltz, and Harry put his arm around Hermione, and felt Hermione's presence in his head shift, once again paying attention to his movements. Feeling happy and emboldened by their connection, Harry quickly stepped up their dancing, dominating the space available to them. He was vaguely aware that he had captured the attention of the room, but look of pure joy on Hermione's face and the happiness he felt flowing into his mind were all he cared about.

"Thank you so much for bringing me," she said as they moved around other couples. "This entire night has been amazing."

Harry leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'm really glad you came. I've never had this much fun at any event, and I can say that it's mostly because you're with me."

The remainder of the night passed in a blur. Some international delegates asked his opinion on current events: Yes, he was pro-muggleborn, as Dumbledore had been; yes, he was interested in pursuing a position in the International Confederation. When the delegates confided the difficulties that students had with magic, Harry suggested his practice routine, which garnered general praise.

The Daily Prophet managed a few moments of his time, as well: Yes, Hogwarts students were suffering difficulties, but the students were persevering; of course he'll outline his practices; yes, he was still considering becoming an Auror; and no, he wasn't going to respond to personal questions.

Hermione stood with him throughout his conversations, offering support and commenting when she could, and stealing Harry away to dance as often as she could get away with. All too quickly, the event drew to a close, and bidding Kingsley farewell, they headed back to Hogwarts. Reality blurred around him a second time and Harry found himself once again in the Heads' common room.

"Wow, what a night," he said, taking as step towards his room. Hermione tightened her grip on his hand, preventing him from moving further. Harry felt pangs of anguish pulsing, and turned to see a despairing look on Hermione's face.

"Don't go," she said softly, her voice breaking. "Please."

Concerned and confused, Harry gathered Hermione to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "What's wrong? I thought you were happy."

"I was; I am. I just..."

"Hermione?"

She sighed, burying her face in his chest. "We're here now, and you're going to change, and you're going to leave for the Burrow. I... I don't want to be alone." Harry reached out with his thoughts, brushing against Hermione's. What he felt shocked him.

"You think I'm... abandoning you?"

"I know it's silly," she said, trying to break away; Harry tightened his arms, and she relented. "It's just that we had so much fun, and now you're off to the Burrow, and the Weasleys, and I'm just left here, and..."

"Shh, shh... I won't leave. I'm here." Harry fished for his wand, and fired a Patronus out the window, watching as it faded off to the south at tremendous speeds. "There, it's all taken care of; I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as Harry guided her to the couch, not breaking their embrace.

"Don't be," he chided. "I'm more than happy to stay with you."

"Ginny's waiting; so is Mrs. Weasley, you should-"

"Shh. I'm here."

Hermione sighed and pressed into Harry, her pain fading, and a small undercurrent of contentment beginning to hum. "Thank you," she muttered into his chest. "Thank you so much."

Harry reclined on the couch, pulling Hermione down with him, shifting until they were comfortable. He reached out again with his mind, batting at Hermione's presence like a playful kitten. Hermione giggled, and her mood brightened considerably. They played cat-and-mouse inside his head for what must have been an hour, before Hermione yawned loudly, and made to get up.

"Stay," Harry said, holding her in place. She looked up at him, surprised.

"I'm comfortable," he mumbled, fighting futilely against his own yawn. Hermione seemed tense, but slowly she relaxed, resting against him, her head just below his. The fire was warm, the heat lulling them closer and closer to sleep.

-----

"It's so close!" God said. "Grab it!"

Despite the encouragement, the snitch slipped between Harry's fingers, and disappeared again. He dodged around an angel, lingering long enough so that they missed the Quaffle on a pass. Again, he took off, his own wings beating hard against the air, lifting him higher, and higher...

"...He... daughter... awake..."

Almost there.

An enormous angel hovered before him, resplendent in golden armor, taller than Hagrid...

Almost there.

There were so many Snitches now, beautiful ones: Balls of solid Ruby and Sapphire, and pure white diamonds glittering in the night sky. His focus remained on the small, tarnished gold snitch he remembered, however. The very first one he had ever caught, trailing just in front of him.

So close; reach...

His hand closed around his mother's; green eyes met green eyes.

"Welcome home."

-----

His eyes shot open, confusion and disorientation muddling his thoughts. There was a heavy weight on him; soft, and warm.

Hermione.

Her breathing was light and rhythmic, her brown hair still done up from yesterday. She slumbered, her entire being curled up and resting in his mind. Comfort and happiness radiated from it, and Harry couldn't help but think of Fluffy, Hagrid's massive Cerberus, and how it slept peacefully when music was played.

Hey, Hagrid! There's a Hermione in my head! The thought was truly amusing, and traces of his mirth brushed against the sleeping form, which roused somewhat, paying attention. Hermione's magic pressed into and through him, saturating his mind and inhabiting his body, as though Hermione was embracing his very soul. As his eyes unfocused, Harry saw a golden glow expand to fill the room, perhaps going beyond as well. Magic trailed from Hermione's back in beautiful streams, reminding him strongly of the angels in his dream.

"Angels...?" Hermione's voice was groggy, her eyes cracking open to look at him, blinking away her sleep.

"It was a weird dream," Harry said, pushing the memory towards Hermione's presence. Hermione touched it for a moment, and shook her head.

"I felt something aimed more at me," she said. Harry pushed his memory of her aura to her, and she gasped as she touched it. "Is that what my magic looks like?"

Harry chuckled. "When you're in your full glory, yes; most people have a couple inches around them, tops. That's actually the clearest I've seen it to date; Dumbledore could see magic on demand, but I'm not good at it yet."

"Will you show me how to do it?" she asked, her classical curiosity shining across the link, making Harry chuckle.

"Of course," he said. "Why don't you read Dumbledore's journal today; just skim through until you get to this stuff, and I'll try to help you with it. It's kind of like Occlumency: Not easy, and really, really vague."

"I'll do that," she said. "You're heading to the burrow, then?"

Harry nodded, absently flicking his wand to get a display of the time. "If I move now, I can catch Mrs. Weasley's breakfast."

Hermione nodded against Harry's chest. "Thank you for staying with me," she said. "It meant a lot to me."

"You're always worth my time," Harry said, squeezing Hermione tightly. He kicked his feet off the side, and brought them both to a standing position, Hermione making a surprised "Mmph!" against him. Shooting her a smile, Harry ducked into his room and hastily changed into a casual set of dark brown robes, grabbing his pouch and wand again.

"Do you think that you could send me to the outskirts of the Burrow?" Harry asked, taking Hermione's hand.

"I think so," she said, frowning in concentration. Harry felt her magic swirl around him, and her hand slipped away. Soon, reality became a swirl of colors that quickly resolved into the Burrow. Broadcasting his gratefulness, Harry walked through the field, heading towards the house. Unwilling to go through the annoying line of questioning that the security-conscious Mr. Weasley would insist on putting him through at the door, Harry sent his Patronus ahead of him, announcing his presence. He was rewarded with Ginny bursting out the back door, leaping onto him with a crushing hug.

"You're here!" she cried. "You're finally here!"

"Of course I am," he said, spinning Ginny around once before putting her down.

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking him over. "When you sent your Patronus last night, I thought maybe you were sick or something."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "No, I pretty much meant exactly what I sent in the message: 'Too tired to travel again, I'll come in the morning.' I collapsed right after I got back to Hogwarts."

A chorus of greetings echoed through the kitchen as Harry entered the house, and world became a sea of handshakes, backslaps, and a big hug from Mrs. Weasley.

"It's good of you to come," she said. "Come on, now; breakfast."

Everyone, even Ron, was in high spirits this morning. Harry spent most of the meal explaining microwaves to Mr. Weasley. Harry only peripherally noticed a pair of owls dropping off the Daily Prophet. When the conversation around the table died completely, though, Harry looked back to the others. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny looked at Harry with confusion; the male Weasleys had darker looks on their face. The Delacours were neutral, though they were obviously curious as to what the fuss was about.

"Let's see it," Harry said, motioning to one of the papers. Bill tossed his towards Harry, and he brought it up to read, Mr. Weasley reading over his shoulder.

Harry skipped past the headline completely, looking straight at an enormous, high quality picture of him and Hermione dancing early on in the night, gliding around the dance floor while the faces in the background watched appreciatively. Every now and then, his picture self would bend over and kiss Hermione on the forehead.

Other pictures and articles centered on him as well as he flipped the pages of the newspaper, but the headline of the front page sported the headline: 'OLD SCHOOL ROMANCE BLOSSOMS.'

"By Rita Skeeter, naturally," he muttered before tossing the paper back to Bill. "Oh, well, it's fourth year all over again," he sighed.

"Fourth year?" Mr. Delacour asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah; Rita Skeeter is an annoying b- well, you get the idea. Anyways, she decided that since Hermione spent every waking moment of her time helping me with the tournament, that she was automatically my girlfriend. Skeeter vilified me as a glory-seeking baby, while at the same time bashing Hermione for supposedly using love potions on me and Viktor, and 'playing with our hearts.' Needless to say, none of us were impressed."

"I'm kind of surprised she'd do it again," Mr. Weasley commented. "Didn't Hermione blackmail her or some such?"

"Yes, she did," Harry said, smiling at the memory. "It worked quite well, too. But with a picture like that," Harry indicated the paper, "I really couldn't go publicly ranting about the article with any credibility." Another frustrated sigh escaped his lips. "Politics and newspapers suck." His comment garnered murmurs of laughter from everyone but Ron, and the mood lightened a little.

"Now I really wish I went with you," Ginny said, looking at the photo. "You're an amazing dancer."

"Thanks," Harry said, fighting a blush. "It was a pretty good night."

"I can see that," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice oddly quiet. "You look very happy in these pictures, Harry."

"I was. For the first time since I can remember, a room full of people treated me like I belonged there. There weren't any lineups to meet me, I didn't have to speak, nor did the press pay any more attention to me than they did anyone else."

"Err, front page, Harry," George quipped.

"That's nothing," Harry replied, waving George away. "That article made the front because of that photo, because Skeeter has a lot of say as to what makes the front page, and because there honestly wasn't anything else eye-catching that was discussed at the convention."

"They've got you covered pretty well in here," Bill said, his eyes scanning the articles. "The world's most powerful wizards consider you an equal. And you're quoted pretty heavily in other articles: Your solution to the struggles with learning magic at Hogwarts; you looking at being an Auror, you being interested in being part of the ICW..."

"Well, at least they're quoting me properly; that's more than I usually get."

Ginny was still staring at the photo, a slightly lost look in her eyes. "Come on, Gin," Harry said, placing his hand over the photo. "We'll show up at the next one and dance the night away, and then we'll have a laugh at whatever Skeeter writes about it then." A smile made its way onto Ginny's face, and breakfast resumed, albeit awkwardly.

The shadow of the Prophet loomed over the Burrow for the remainder of the day. Harry spent most of his time with Ginny, Bill, Fleur, and the rest of the Delacours. Ginny's brothers, aside from Bill, were less than impressed at his taking Hermione to the convention, and Ginny, while openly affectionate, still seemed upset. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had a sad look in their eyes, as if Harry had already broken up with Ginny. Harry's annoyance and frustration at the situation was enough to draw Hermione's attention, which meant that all parties he cared about were now involved, and he had to clean up everywhere.

A hand on his shoulder kept Harry back as the family travelled outside to set lunch in the yard. He turned to see Ron staring at him, his eyes hard and cold.

"What are you doing to Ginny?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?"

"You pretty much announced to the world that you and Hermione are together!" Ron snarled. "What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

"Ginny told me to go with Hermione, you know." Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron, and watched as his friend's face contorted further. Despite the vitriol that Ron was no doubt gathering, he held his tongue.

"And what made you think it would be such a good idea to do that?" he eventually asked, his voice nearly a growl.

Harry shrugged. "I trust Ginny; I expect Ginny to trust me."

"I expect you to trust me too, Ron," Ginny's voice came from behind Harry. "Leave Harry alone; he hasn't done anything wrong." Harry felt Ginny's hands around his waist and on his shoulder. Ron scowled and pushed past, disappearing into the back yard.

"Don't worry about him," Ginny said, her hand working in soothing circles on Harry's back. "He's not mad at you for me, anyways; he's mad because you were with Hermione."

"What?"

Ginny smiled at Harry's look of surprise. "It's true," she asserted. "He still mumbles and rants about her when he thinks no one's listening. Sometimes Dean or Seamus will give him the time of day to let him vent, but he hasn't cooled down at all."

"That's… disturbing," Harry said slowly, frowning towards the back yard.

"Yeah, well… Where'd you learn how to dance like that?" Ginny asked, changing the topic.

"About three days' worth of dance practice with Hermione," he said with a grin. "That picture you saw was only possible because she's in my head."

"So, you can't really dance, then?" Ginny's smile was a little mischievous, and Harry felt the need to have some fun.

"Let's see, shall we?" He grabbed Ginny by her waist and spun her around while she shrieked, and settled into a dancing position. They stumbled around the kitchen, laughing, dancing to the wireless. Ginny wasn't much better a dancer than Harry, but he found her to be very agile with her feet, and they soon passed beyond the stages of tripping each other.

"I really wish I could have gone," Ginny said, her head resting on Harry's chest as they swayed.

"Me, too," Harry said, kissing her head lightly. "Don't worry about it, though. It's done."

"I'm glad you had fun, though. And thanks for dancing with me now; I really liked that." Ginny kissed him lightly, and made her way up to the washroom. Deciding to see what the rest of the family was up to, and walked out the back door.

-----

Ron was slightly more civil to Harry at the table, and the two families ate together noisily. Quidditch seemed to be the safest topic, and the rest of the table faded out as he and Ron bantered about this year's team.

"Our chaser line sucks," Ron said, waving his half-finished sandwich in the air. "Ginny's fine, but the other two…"

"They're the best we've got," Harry said with a shrug. "It's them or nothing, so we'll have to amp up the practices, or maybe get Ginny to practice with them one-on-one."

Ron grunted, attacking his food again, and Harry turned to find that the Weasleys and Delacours had all left the table; no one was in sight at all. Squinting to block out some of the morning light, Harry willed his eyes to dilate, bringing magical traces into being. Slowly and with effort, hazy auras began to form, and the circle of a wide-area Confundus-style repelling charm faded into view. "Ron, what-!"

The hairs on his neck rose, and Harry instinctively rolled forward, a curse hitting the wall of the house behind him. He rolled again, to the side this time, and the same curse scorched the ground where he had been. It wasn't an Unforgivable, which meant it could be blocked. The curse came a third time and Harry dove forwards and to the side, deflecting the curse with a shield, and rolling into a standing position, facing his opponent for the first time.

"What the hell are you doing?" He shouted. Ron stood opposite, his wand in the motions of yet another curse. A dark, hateful aura rose from Ron, a few inches from his body. Deep red splotches of color faded to black, and similar magics were gathering at his wand. Harry's attention was drawn by something else, though. Runes that glowed faintly to his vision, drawn on his chest and arms. His peripheral vision caught movement; the Weasleys would be here in a moment.

"I don't know what she's done to you," Ron snarled, "But I intend to end it!" As Harry swayed to avoid Ron's spell, he recognized it as a memory charm of some sort. That would mean that he's cottoned on to Hermione's Legilimency, he thought. But why does it show as Dark Magic? It wouldn't have emotions associated with it, unless…

Harry's eyes widened in shock, and his face contorted in fury. Ron couldn't have, he wouldn't. Harry focused all his attention on the runes that were glowing through Ron's clothing, lazily stopping the next curse with a shield and snapping off a Stunner. Ron was too slow to avoid the hex, but he seemed to be completely unfazed by it. As the spell hit, for just an instant, the runes came into focus, a mirror image of something he'd seen in Snape's journals.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Harry roared, launching himself toward Ron. Ron backpedaled as quickly as he could, throwing his own shield in between them. Harry snapped three Stunners towards Ron's shield, dissipating it. Ron was likely invulnerable to most of Harry's known repertoire, courtesy of those runes; he had planned well, and that thought angered him even more. An idea, conceived by his anger, took hold.

"Harry, you can't fight me!" Ron screamed, sending another curse towards Harry, who simply stepped to the side, his own wand twirling, two silent spells firing one after the other: Duro! Confringo!

"I've made sure of it! Once I've freed you, we can-WHAT THE-ARRGH!!"

Ron screamed in agony as he fell backwards, the stone shards of what were once his robes flying everywhere, and bouncing off of Harry's shield. Dozens of the shards protruded from Ron's body; blood was everywhere. The wounds were shallow, but they hurt, and Ron dropped incoherently to the ground. Harry summoned Ron's wand from his unresisting hand, and walked over.

Ron groaned as a kick to the side sprawled him out on his back, the blood-red runes staring Harry in the face. "Who did you use?" Harry shouted. Ron tried to scramble away. Another kick sent him rolling over and howling in pain. "WHO DID YOU USE?" Harry's wand now pointed at Ron's face.

"H-Harry, you're being…"

"SHUT UP!" Harry stomped hard on Ron's stomach, driving several shards in further. "This isn't about Hermione. You will tell me who you used for this ritual now, or so help me God I will kill you."

"S-She-aaahh!!"

"NOW!"

"L-Luna." Ron gasped, his face contorted in pain. "I used Luna."

Hermione's presence expanded in Harry's mind, searching for the cause of his distress. He let her sit in on his thoughts while he collected a sample of Ron's blood. After tucking the sample away in a conjured vial, he reached out and turned Ron's face to his. "If we can't fix Luna, I'm going to feed to the Dementors." He stood, then, and fired a Patronus off to the north; there was too much information and too many details to trust his link to Hermione by itself.

"Hermione will be looking for Luna now, Ron. Now start telling me what this is about."

"What's the point," rasped Ron, his breathing heavy and pained. "You're… you're with… her."

"There's spell that your ritual won't protect you against you know," Harry threatened in a low voice. "Talk or I will make you talk."

"You've got to listen to me! Harry, she's-!"

"Imperio!" Harry hissed, pressing his wand directly between Ron's eyes.

Ron's face lost all expression, and his mouth opened to speak. "I've recovered memories that Hermione has previously altered and erased; I suspect that she has done the same or worse to you."

Harry's thoughts and memories focused into laser-tight streams, well away from Hermione's ability to pry. "Start at the beginning," he prompted forcefully. "Elaborate on everything." He felt his words translated into power by his wand, and Ron once again began to speak in a toneless voice.

"In third year, Hermione stayed apart from us for extended periods of time. I confronted her, and she erased my memory of the confrontation; there were several times that I attempted to spy on her, but those memories were altered.

"In fourth year, I was subject to several charms while you and I weren't speaking. Hermione later removed those charms and replaced them with lighter ones. This ceased to occur once we were all back together. Viktor Krum was Obliviated by Hermione to prevent their date from becoming too intimate; I was Obliviated of my memory of this event.

"In fifth year, I attempted several times to spy on Hermione, who once again left us alone to work on something for long periods of time. Each time I was caught, and my memories erased or adjusted.

"Sixth year there were only two attempts, and last year there were no attempts, but Hermione began to practice Legilimency on me during our travels.

"Since June, I have noticed several times that she has amazing abilities, and is again studying material that she keeps completely private. I have attempted to steal the material and confront Hermione several times, each time failing.

"Hermione's charms are not perfect, though, and I had some lingering memories. I studied in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library to master rudimentary Occlumency and break the charms with the aid of several potions. Once I understood the extent to which I was manipulated, I knew she must have done the same to you, since you were just as close to her as I was.

"Your closeness to Hermione suggested that I couldn't reason with you; you would always choose her side. I prepared to force your memories to return, and used the Tectum Animae ritual to increase the potency of my restoration charm, as well as defend against what I knew about your dueling ability.

"It was my intention to plan further, but I realized that Hermione was pulling you away from my sister, and I couldn't allow that, so I attempted to restore your memories now, confident that I was prepared enough to take you by surprise. I failed."

"Who's responsible for this Confundus ring?" Harry asked; the spell was far too complicated for Ron to have cast it.

"Bill cast it for me," Ron said, confirming Harry's suspicions. "Bill is under the impression that I am pulling a prank in honor of Fred."

"It'll last a while, then," Harry muttered to himself, thinking. Remembering the source of his anger, Harry again focused on his wand. "Explain your attempt at the Tectum Animae; Elaborate."

"I found the ritual in the restricted section of the library, and intended to use it as a shield against your most common dueling spells, as well as to increase the potency of my memory restoration charm and my Occlumency. The ritual seemed relatively harmless, but it required the participation of someone who was considered at least a friend.

"I used Luna as the participant, gaining her support with a love potion, and Obliviating her of the event afterwards, including the potion's effects. Luna should be completely unaffected by her part of the ritual."

"Shows how much you know," Harry spat. He threw a silent Finite Incantatem at the Confundus ring, creating a sizable opening in the circle. "Come on; we're going to Hermione. She started this mess; she can help me fix it."

"N-n-no," Ron grunted, struggling against the curse. "S-she's dangerous. Y-you can't trust her. We've got to stay away, Harry."

"Of course she's dangerous," Harry agreed. "To you, anyways. My mother hugged Hermione and thanked her for taking care of me; care to tell me how that was possible if Hermione's a threat?" Ron's confusion showed on his face, and in that moment Harry struck again, renewing his Imperious forcefully.

"Tell me one more thing, Ron: Hermione stated that one of your goals is to eventually be 'better' than both me and Hermione. Is this true?"

"Yes," came the monotone reply; Harry shook his head.

"Figures; alright, move." Leading Ron at wand-point, Harry walked to the edge of the Burrow's wards, and grabbing onto Ron's arm, Apparated to Hogsmeade.

Forcing Ron to march to the Head's dorm, Harry found a rather distraught Hermione pacing in their common room. He was tempted to resume their mental contact, but shook the thought away. There's too much here that I don't know. Deal with this first, and Hermione later.

"Harry-!" she shouted as he entered, but stopped when she saw Ron's blank expression.

Keeping his wand on Ron, Harry asked "Do you know what the Tectum Animae is?"

"Vaguely," Hermione replied, and only a second later her eyes went wide with shock. "Ron's used it?" she hissed.

"Runes are on his chest," Harry said, returning everyone's robes to normal. "Luna Lovegood was the donor; that's why I wanted you to check on her."

"What has you so worried that you have Ron under the Imperius, Harry? I know it's a Dark ritual, but it's pretty tame as far as Dark Arts goes."

"You don't have Snape's journals," Harry said darkly. "That ritual is fatal to the donor in the long term. Ron's condemned Luna to death."

"What does this… thing… do?" Hermione asked, her face a mixture of anger and horror.

"Shields against some specified spells," Harry said. "Boosts your spell power and endurance a little, you know… a super-wizard ritual. Developed in Ancient Greece, but we have the Roman version of it. It was used a lot, so I'm not surprised that Ron got his hands on it. It was seen as pretty harmless; whoever the donor was never had any problems.

"But that's only because the donors were all dead in short order, along with the ritual user. The ritual was a military thing, used just before major battles. There hasn't been a case where anyone lived long enough for symptoms to spread, until recently, with the Death Eaters. It takes a few years, but the donor gets listless and depressed, and eventually becomes catatonic; it's a slow version of a Dementor's Kiss."

Hermione grimaced at Harry's description. "What are you implying, Harry?"

"Exactly what you think: Luna's soul is being siphoned off by Ron. So the question is: Are you strong enough to fix her?"

-----

A/N: This is my reminder for all of you to review, please. Even if it's just a couple of words to say you liked it or you didn't, feedback makes writing a hundred times more enjoyable.

~TOW