Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

DarkWizardKiller

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 19/02/2010
Last Updated: 20/09/2012
Status: completed

The nightmare was finally over! Liberation rang throughout the wizard world like the tolling of a bell. But the days that followed that fateful night in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would not bring peace to the three youngsters who were most responsible for the destruction of the Dark Lord. For Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, life was not going to be at all what they had anticipated or hoped. As you can see I have changed the status to COMPLETED! YAHY! It's finally done after long last! Thanks to one and all who reviewed! It was quite a task to get it done! T.T.F.N.

Chapters

1. 1 - The Day After

2. 2 - Setting Things to Right

3. 3 - The Death of Innocence

4. 4 - Chasing Answers

5. 5 - Down Under

6. 6 - Celebrations

7. 7 - Moving Forward

8. 8 - Alternatives

9. 9 - Saying Goodbye

10. 10 - The Witching Hour

11. 11 - Interview

12. 12 - Adjustments

13. 13 - Warning

14. 14 - The Ministry of Magic

15. 15 - Assistance

16. 16 - Prodigal Dunderhead Returns

17. 17 - Making Plans

18. 18 - Visit

19. 19 - Preparations and Introductions

20. 20 - Holiday (Part 1)

21. 21 - Holiday Part 2

22. Chapter Twenty Two - Holiday Part 3

23. Chapter Twenty Three - Discoveries

24. Chapter 24 - Return

25. Chapter 25 Farewells and Dreams

26. Return To Hogwarts

27. Training Part 1

28. Chapter 28 - The Final Term

29. Chapter 29 - The Dueling Club

30. Chapter 30 -Lessons Learned

31. 31 - Changes

32. 32 - Training Part 2

33. 33 - Not Again!

34. 34 Errors in Judgment

35. 35 - Remembering

36. 36 - Training Part 3

37. 37 - May Wonders Never Cease

38. 38 - Life Goes On

39. 39 - Coming Home

40. 40 - Cho's Revenge

41. 41 - Finding The Lost

42. 42 - Detention

43. 43 - A Fight for Survival

44. 44 - Slytherin A History

45. 45 - The Final Piece

46. 46 - Epilog

47. Chapter 47 - Deleted Scenes

1. 1 - The Day After

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

A.N.

Welcome to Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait and thank you for taking the time to read it. It is a rather involved days after the final confrontation story that popped into my head one day. As this is simply a tune-up story for practice prior to beginning some original work, I'm having a bit of fun with this concept. While the plot line lives in my head, getting in down in words is a bit more difficult so please bear with me.

Part one of this story might be a bit confusing to some but you must realize that the first several chapters are happening at the same time. It is a re-introduction of the three main characters of the Potter Series and necessary for the development of this story. It was the only way I could make things fit within a specific time line.

I am trying to follow canon as closely as possible in the beginning but lives and relationships change as the story progresses. While I do try to proof and edit as I write, this story knows no beta at this time so keep that in mind as you read. Please leave comments about this story because they do help and are appreciated greatly (positive and negative) but suggestions on possible plot line changes will be ignored. Sorry, the story is already finished in my head.

As always, Harry Potter and all things connected to his world are the sole intellectual property of J.K. Rowling/Scholastic Books/Warner Bro. and whomever else may legally have their hands in the cookie jar! Therefore, this story may not be published or reproduced in a for-profit environment in any way, shape or form. All original characters and the basic plot line are completely my own and were created for entertainment use only within the realm of this story. Thank you! I truly hope you enjoy!

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Chapter One - The Day After

As they made their way out of the Headmaster's office, the halls seemed eerily quit after what had taken place throughout the castle a few scant hours before.

They each stepped over the broken form of the gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's office.

It shot them a doleful look as it lay there in pieces.

“Oh, don't mind me. Certainly wouldn't want to get in the way! Hope you didn't get any of me on your shoe!”

Ron stopped and glared down at the gargoyle's head.

“Now see here you…”

“Ronald!” Hermione cut across Ron's retort in an exasperated sigh. She waved her wand and recited a spell as if from memory, “Statueus Reparo!”

The many pieces of the gargoyle flew through the still air, jump back together and set itself in its place in front of the Headmaster's office entrance once again. It blinked its huge eyes for a moment.

“Thanks for that missy,” it growled, “Haven't seen me tail have you?”

They could see over its haunches to a spot on its hind end that was still jagged. It looked down at Ron's feet.

“Hey ginger, do you mind?”

Ron looked down to find that he was, indeed standing on what appeared to be a chunk of stone. It was wiggling, trying to extricate itself from Ron's right trainer. He lifted his foot and the small piece flew back into place.

The gargoyle looked at Ron blandly.

“Hoping for a bit of a souvenir were you?”

“Oy,” Ron's eyebrows shot up.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm. In a huff she spun him round and began pushing him away from the Headmaster's hallway.

Ron kept glaring at the gargoyle.

It stuck its tongue out at him as he was being ushered away.

He pointed at the gargoyle, mumbling nasty epithets under his breath.

Harry could do nothing but roll his eyes as he watched it all unfold. His head began to pound with lack of sleep and nourishment. He was beginning to feel slightly ill.

They passed no-one as they made their way through the corridors, mostly in silence - each lost in their own thoughts but they could hear the sounds of people in the distance already hard at work making repairs to the damaged school.

Ron's ire at the gargoyle slowly faded and his thoughts turned to his family. He knew he needed to be with them as they mourned the loss of Fred. He was sure they would be taking his body somewhere, most likely to St. Mungo's.

He thought about George. His injury aside, how would the loss of his twin affect him? Fred and George had never been apart that he could remember. He was going to be plenty angry when he found out that he lost his ear accidentally by an errant severing curse from Snape.

He also thought about the Burrow. It lay in ruins as a result of the fire that destroyed everything his family owned. He had no idea what was to become of them now.

Hermione's thoughts were on so many different things. They all seemed to be crowding her mind at once.

She thought about her parents, whom she had left to the mercy of the Fates in a bungalow in Perth, Australia with a completely fictitious identity. She wanted them back as soon as she could get them. She was going to have to recruit Professor McGonagall's assistance for that.

She thought about the seemingly countless number of people she knew who were dead or severely injured.

She thought about poor Teddy Lupin who would never know his mother or father. That thought hit a bit close to home for her as she glanced clandestinely at Harry.

She thought about little Colin Creevey. He had snuck back into the castle to fight and died in the battle.

She thought about Hagrid and concern filled her for all of them, but the thought that plagued her conscious mind the most was Harry.

She couldn't help but think that, with the death of Remus Lupin, there was no-one left to connect him to his past or his family. The last of the Marauders was gone.

He was truly all alone.

She knew that he and Ginny had started something before the end of last term. She wondered if Harry was going to try and get back together with her.

All Hermione knew was she hoped Harry could at last find some peace and happiness. She silently vowed to do everything she could to help.

Harry's thoughts could seem to go no further than his old four-poster in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory.

He was physically and mentally exhausted.

The adrenaline that coursed through his veins during his confrontation with Tom Riddle had long since waned and he was finding it difficult to remain standing.

It felt so good to have his old wand back in one piece that he still held it in his hand, unable to part with it even long enough to place it in his pocket.

He had unceremoniously shoved the Elder Wand in the right front pocket of his old hand-me-down cargo trousers and had not given it another thought.

As they walked silently along, Hermione noticed the wand sticking out of the pocket. She froze mid-stride.

Harry and Ron noticed and glanced back to see a look of horror on her face as she stared at the wand. Ron was the first to break the silence.

“What is it Hermione,” he asked with one eyebrow raised. He noticed that she was breathing a bit heavier than she should be.

Hermione pointed at the wand then looked at Harry with wide eyes.

“The Elder Wand Harry…you told Dumbledore's portrait that you were going to put it back where it came from?”

Harry gave her a quizzical look then glanced at his pocket. He nodded.

“Yah, I did…and I will.”

Hermione still looked frightened. Ron was looking back and forth between them in confusion. He then looked at Harry and shrugged.

“I still think you're barmy mate,” Ron said matter-of-factly, “You won the wand's allegiance fair and square and you did it without killing anyone. I'll bet you're just about the first bloke in history to do that and I'd be willing to bet my whole Chocolate Frog card collection that you could do just about anything with that wand.”

The implications of Ron's words hit Harry like a physical blow to the chest. He pulled the Elder Wand from his pocket and held it out in front of him.

Hermione looked as if she was about to be sick.

“That's not the point Ronald. That thing is dangerous and I for one think it should be destroyed!”

She was starting to squeak. When Hermione Granger started squeaking…that was bad.

Part of Harry wanted to argue the point that it wasn't the wand itself that was dangerous but the one who wielded it, but he was much too exhausted to even try. However, as he stood there, Mr. Ollivander's words echoed in his head once again…

The wand chooses the Wizard, Mr. Potter…

If Harry was going to be honest with himself, he thought she had a point.

All three stood staring at the wand for a moment.

Harry glanced at Hermione and could see a storm of rage and indignation brewing in her eyes. She was winding up to argue her point if it came to that.

He then looked at Ron and saw unmistakable desperate longing in his eyes. It sent cold shivers down his spine.

That was enough to convince him Hermione's words rang true enough.

“No!” Harry said flatly and tucked the wand back in his pocket, “It goes back where it came from.”

He turned and continued walking, not caring if they followed.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye before he turned away, the tension leaving Hermione's shoulders. He was glad. He cared very deeply for her but he didn't think he was in any condition to endure one of her lectures.

She shot Ron a glowering look of disdain before she continued down the hall in Harry's wake.

Ron simply shrugged his shoulders again as he fell in step behind his two best friends.

Hermione caught up to Harry and she placed a hand gently on his arm as they walked along.

“Harry I…I think we should put that wand back now.”

Harry stopped walking again and turned to face her. Irritation flashed white-hot across his beleaguered mind until he looked into her eyes.

He saw real fear there.

He closed his eyes for a moment to stamp down his growing frustration. He knew it was fueled by his daunting fatigue. A voice in his head calmed him.

Trust her Harry…

He did. Completely, and she was the only one he did trust in that way.

If he had learned anything over the past year it was when Hermione Granger spoke, you should listen. Trusting her had saved his life more than once.

He just wished he had learned that lesson several years earlier. He wouldn't have rushed to the Department of Mysteries to save a Godfather who wasn't even there. She wouldn't have been hit with Dolohov's curse.

The guilt from that night still hung heavy in his mind. He could have gotten them all killed!

He smiled at her.

“I think you might be right. Maybe we should find Professor McGonagall. She can help us open Dumbledore's tomb. I'm not sure how I feel about doing something like that.”

Hermione seemed to deflate slightly as if she had been holding her breath. She returned Harry's smile as Ron sidled up next to her.

“I don't know Harry,” Hermione said sadly, “but I believe the less people who know about where this wand is, the better.”

They both looked pointedly at Ron. He bristled slightly under their gazes.

“Well I'm not going to tell anyone where it is,” he grumbled, “I can't believe you would even think such a thing!”

Harry and Hermione looked at one another for a moment and it was as if they had reached the same conclusion without the need for words.

Fidelius Charm!

They both thought the exact same thing at once. They continued on their way through the castle to find McGonagall.

As they got close to the Great Hall they heard talking ahead of them. When they rounded the corner of a bisecting hallway they ran into Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.

As they neared their fellow D.A. members, Harry could see that Neville still looked battered and bruised as ever, which made his big toothy grin appear quite out of place. Luna looked a bit disheveled but otherwise unharmed.

“There you three are,” Luna said in her ever-present dreamy voice.

“Looking for us, were you?” Ron asked.

Neville looked at them with such reverence it made Harry a bit uncomfortable.

“Yah, we were sent to find you,” Neville looked at Ron, “Your mother asked us to tell you the rest of your family is about to leave. They're taking Fred to St. Mungo's. I think they want you to go with them.”

A look of deep sadness washed over Ron's features. Hermione touched Ron's arm affectionately. He reached up and patted her hand.

“Right,” Ron said, “thanks Neville,” he looked down at Hermione, “You coming?”

Hermione was suddenly torn. She wanted to be with Ron. She felt she should be but she also wanted to be with Harry to make curtain the Elder Wand was returned to Dumbledore's tomb and the Fidelius charm was administered properly.

Harry could see her struggling.

“Go on Hermione. I'm sure Professor McGonagall and I can handle,” he glanced at Neville and Luna, “you know.” He patted his pocket.

Neville's eyes grew wide as he looked at the wand sticking out of Harry's pocket.

“Is that the Death Stick Harry? Think I could take a look at it?”

Hermione blanched and Harry stiffened. Ron just rolled his eyes.

“Don't be daft Neville, that's not the Death Stick,” Ron said with as much conviction as he could muster, “It got destroyed when Harry put old Voldy's lights out. Do you really think Harry would be walking about the castle with a thing like that stuck in his pocket? That's Malfoy's wand and we were taking it to Kingsley. I'm hoping it will get the little ferret faced git chucked into Azkaban for a good long holiday!”

It was just as Hermione had warned. Everyone had seen the final fight between Harry and Voldemort. Everyone had heard. She was right. The wand was nothing but trouble and he wanted to be shed of it.

Neville looked at the three of them for a moment as if deciding what Ron was telling him was the truth or not, but then he smiled at Harry.

“Good call that. I hope you're right Ron. Malfoy is a git. Kingsley's in the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall at the moment.”

Harry let out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding and the color returned to Hermione's cheeks.

Luna, however, stared at Harry for a bit longer, her brows furrowing in consternation. Harry got the uneasy feeling she could somehow sense their deception and it made him feel a bit ashamed. She reached up and lovingly stroked Neville's arm.

“Neville pulled the sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat and killed that great serpent all by himself.” Luna beamed up at him.

Neville blushed so red he looked like a bruised tomato.

Ron coughed to stifle a chuckle.

Hermione shot Ron a withering glance, then gave Neville one of her most dazzling smiles.

“Well done Neville. You're a hero!” She stepped forward and gave Neville a hug.

“Yah, he did Luna.” Harry smiled and looked at Neville, “and you're absolutely right Hermione but not just for killing the snake. The way you stood up to the Carrows here at Hogwarts and again to Voldemort last night makes me proud to call you my friend. Dumbledore once told me only a true Gryffindor could pull the sword from the Sorting Hat.”

Harry held out his hand. Neville took it in his and shook it slowly. He looked as if he were on the verge of tears.

“Th…thanks Harry. That means a lot coming from you,” Neville whispered.

Ron sobered immediately, turned quite red then patted his shoulder.

“Right mate! You know…like they said.”

“We'd better be getting back to the Great Hall Neville,” Luna said as she gave him a gentle push, “or we won't get to help.”

“Help?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Luna said, “We're helping repair the damage to the school. Everyone is.”

She gave Ron a look that told him that was a silly question to ask as they turned to go.

“Well, I better get going as well,” Ron said looking at them both, “Mum will be plenty angry if I don't go with them. Besides, I'm not sure were we're going to be staying now, what with the Burrow a mess.”

Harry and Hermione looked at one-another. Neither had given Ron's predicament much thought as they were immersed in their own troubled musings.

Harry made an instant decision.

“You're all more than welcome at #12 if you need a place to stay until the Burrow is mended.”

Ron smiled.

“Thanks mate! That's right kind of you. I'll tell mum and dad that…but honestly Harry, I'm not sure I could handle being yelled at every day by that barmy old hag's portrait.”

He changed his voice to a rather passable imitation of Sirius' mother…

“Blood traitors, filth, scourge of the Wizarding world!”

They laughed.

“I'm sure Ginny would love the idea though.”

Ginny!

Harry felt a sudden stab of anxiety as he thought about her.

The thought of how she had seemed to sense his presence when he passed her on the Hogwarts grounds as he made his way to what he was certain would be his demise filled him with a sense of wonder.

His tired brain couldn't seem to grasp the concept that, with the threat of impending doom that loomed over his life every moment now gone, it would be safe to resume his budding relationship with his best mate's sister.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him along down the hall in her usual bossy fashion.

“Come on then,” she looked back at Harry, “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Harry nodded as he watched them go. They turned the corner and Harry found himself standing in a silent, deserted hallway.

He suddenly felt very much alone.

He could hear Hermione and Ron's presence had caused quite an uproar as they entered the Great Hall.

He decided to slip his invisibility cloak over his head as he made his way in. He chose to be less conspicuous. He didn't need or want the attention.

The sights and sounds of people milling about, working to repair the damage appeared to fill the entire castle. Windows knitted back into place. The house hour glasses had been mended, large chunks of stone stacked themselves neatly back into holes that were blasted into walls by flying curses.

He watched as two older wizards replaced a large section of the handrail that ran along the outer edge of the floor above the grand staircase.

He saw Hermione and Ron. They were gathered at the entrance with the rest of the Weasley clan. Bill and Arthur were levitating a large wooden box out onto the castle grounds ahead of the small group.

Fred…

He strained his eyes against the sunlit entrance to see if he could get a glimpse of Ginny.

He spotted her and could see she was engaged in what appeared to be a rather private conversation with Dean Thomas.

Part of him thought he should be concerned about that but in his present state, he knew he had about just enough energy left to dispose of the wand. He would worry about those things later.

He also noticed Hermione was constantly looking over her shoulder back into the Great Hall as if she were looking for someone. He had a good idea who that was.

He spied Professor McGonagall in a small group huddled by the head table. It consisted of the Deputy Headmistress, the temporary Minister Elect Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor Slughorn, Professor Sprout and little Professor Flitwick.

As he neared the group, he picked up on their conversation. Professor McGonagall was speaking.

“…think it would be wise to position as many Aurors as possible around the grounds just to be safe. While I am confident the greatest threat has past there is always the possibility of retaliation from those who avoided capture. Besides, there are still many Dementors on the loose and until they are brought back under Ministry control I'm not willing to take any risks. Would you agree with that assessment Minister?”

Kingsley frowned deeply.

“Yes, I readily agree Minerva but please don't call me Minister. It is a title I truly feel I have no claim to and one I'm not certain I even want yet. You and I have been friends far too long for us to be so formal anyway.” He smiled at her.

“Yes, well,” McGonagall replied a bit rosier in the cheeks, “I'm merely attempting to follow decorum, you understand.”

Kingsley gave her a reverent bow.

She looked at Professor Sprout.

“Pomona. Could you be a dear and round up as many volunteers as you can. There is much repair needed in the west wing on the second, third and fourth floors.”

“Of course Headmistress,” Professor Sprout nodded, spun on her heel and was off.

“I'll gather as many of my Ravenclaws as I can muck up and assist Pomona,” Professor Flitwick squeaked.

“Thank you Filius,” McGonagall replied wearily, “Has anyone seen Hagrid?”

“I think he went to look for that insufferable brother of his,” someone said.

Kingsley gave McGonagall a significant look.

“I'll see to it my people help put his hut to rights while we're patrolling.”

“Thank you, Kingsley,” she smiled as he turned to leave. She turned to Professor Slughorn.

“Horace. Do you feel up to checking the lower levels?”

“Certainly Headmistress,” Slughorn bowed slightly, turned and was off.

Madam Pomfrey appeared from out of the small room behind the Head table.

Harry remembered that room from his fourth year when the Goblet of Fire unceremoniously spit his name out for the Tri-Wizard tournament.

“All of the injured and…deceased have been transported to St. Mungo's as per your instructions Minerva.”

“Bless you Poppy. What in the world would I do without you?” McGonagall smiled at her old friend. She leaned against the edge of the Head table gripping it with both hands. The aged Headmistress suddenly looked very much like Harry felt.

“Think nothing of it Minerva,” the nurse smiled warmly, “Looks like you could do with a spot of Pepper Up yourself dear.”

McGonagall waved her off smiling.

“There's much to attend to Poppy. I believe Mr. Potter has been waiting for me patiently so if you'll excuse me.”

Harry almost swallowed his tongue.

How in the name of Marlin's beard…

“Of course,” Madam Pomfrey placed a small hand on McGonagall's shoulder then turned to leave, “I'll be in the infirmary if anyone needs me.”

Professor McGonagall looked pointedly at the exact location Harry was standing completely hidden under the invisibility cloak, or so he thought.

“Follow me Mr. Potter,” the Headmistress said as she made her way to the room Madam Pomfrey had just exited.

She opened the door, stood aside to allow Harry to enter then closed them both in. She plucked her wand from the folds of her robe and gave it a flick.

“I believe it is safe to come out now. No one will disturb us.”

Harry slid the cloak off and looked at the old professor sheepishly.

“How did you know?”

McGonagall's eyes twinkled in the candle light.

“Even though one's eyes cannot see does not mean one's other senses cease to function properly, Mr. Potter? I take it you have a reason for your surreptitiousness?”

“Yes, Headmistress,” Harry was about to pull the Elder Wand from his pocket when there came a loud bang on the door.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up as she stared at the door for a moment.

“Perhaps I was a bit premature about not being disturbed,” the old witch looked perturbed, “If you'll excuse me.”

McGonagall moved to the door. She waved her wand again and the door flew open.

Hermione Granger tumbled into the room, her wild mane covering her eyes as she fought to regain her balance. McGonagall regarded her with lips pursed, arms folded, peering at the intruder over the top of her tiny spectacles.

Harry wasn't surprised in the slightest. He couldn't help but chuckle. Hermione was nothing if not resourceful.

Hermione looked as if she had been caught doing something very naughty.

“I…I'm very s…sorry Headmistress but I really thought I should be here,” Hermione cringed.

“Of course, Miss Granger,” McGonagall flicked her wand and the door closed.

This time, however, the door glowed brightly and then quite unexpectedly disappeared all together.

“Where one goeth, so shall the others follow, much like the three blind mice, I believe,” She muttered under her breath smiling slightly as she said it.

She turned back toward the two.

“Now can you please enlighten me as to what this is all about Mr. Potter and why all this clandestine behavior or should we wait for Mr. Weasley?”

He and Hermione shared a quick look as he pulled the Elder Wand from his pocket. He placed it on the table he was standing next to.

The Headmistress looked at the wand and her eyes grew large with fear and trepidation. Her hand flew to her mouth as if to stifle a scream.

“Why that's…”

“Yes,” Harry said, He was about to say the Elder Wand when McGonagall's face turned red with sudden rage.

“HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU ACQUIRE ALBUS DUBLEDORE'S WAND YOUNG MAN? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

Harry was suddenly struck dumb by the Headmistresses unexpected distress.

“Wha…NO!” Harry cried.

Luckily, Hermione was much quicker on the uptake. She stepped between Harry and the Professor quickly and raised her hands.

“No, Professor,” she said speaking rapidly, “you don't understand. Harry didn't remove the wand from Dumbledore's tomb. Voldemort did. This is the Elder Wand. It's often referred to in history as the Death Stick or the Wand of Destiny. Professor Dumbledore won this wand from Grindelwald all those years ago. It's one of the Deathly Hallows…”

That seemed to get the Headmistress' attention.

“One of the Deathly…? You mean …”

“Yes,” Hermione cut across McGonagall, “as in the story from the Tales of Beedle the Bard. I didn't believe it at first either but the story, as it turns out is a true adaptation, although greatly embellished I'm sure, about the Peverell brothers.”

“They were real wizards. Harry is a direct descendant of Ignotus Peverell. His grave is in the church yard in Godric's Hollow, the same one where the Potter's and the Dumbledore's are buried.”

“His invisibility cloak has been handed down for generations. It's one of the Hallows as well. Professor Dumbledore didn't want the Hallows falling into the wrong hands so he gave Harry clues to find them.”

“He knew Harry was the only one who could possess all three Hallows and not use them for evil. It was said the one who possessed all three Hallows would be the Master of Death!”

Hermione took a breath and gave McGonagall a moment to absorb what she had said so far. The old Headmistress looked aghast from Harry to Hermione.

Harry knew all of what Hermione said may not have been the exact line of thinking but it was bloody close enough. He also couldn't believe McGonagall did not realize this during the confrontation with Voldemort. Tom Riddle had admitted to taking the wand. He was wondering how she had missed it but that detail mattered little now.

“I think I need to sit down,” she put her hand to her head.

Harry whipped out his own wand and conjured a chair from thin air. He placed it under the old Professor as she practically collapsed onto it.

Hermione looked at him impressed with his spell work.

“I'm really sorry Professor,” Harry stammered, “I thought you knew…” It was about all he could say.

Harry had never been so glad Hermione Granger was his friend and had figured out a way to be there with him at that moment. He looked at her as if she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. She smiled and squeezed his arm. Hermione then turned back to McGonagall who seemed to be struggling to regain her usual poise and composure.

“Headmistress,” Hermione asked, “how much did Professor Dumbledore tell you of what he was doing with Harry before he died?”

McGonagall was beginning to look a bit green in the candlelight. Harry and Hermione shot each other worried glances. Hermione pulled her wand and conjured a cool glass of water.

“Here, Professor.”

She handed the glass to McGonagall who accepted it willingly. She nodded.

“Thank you, child.”

The old Headmistress took a long drink then placed the glass on the floor beside her. She looked wearier than ever. She removed her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose. Looking off into the shadows of the room, she began to speak.

“I must confess I knew little of what the Headmaster was planning. I have always trusted his judgments when it came to what was best for our school or our students or the wizard world at large for that matter. I knew he was spending an inordinate amount of time with Professor Snape. Whether my exclusion from such things was intentional or that I was simply more concerned for the welfare of Hogwarts I cannot say.”

She looked pointedly at Harry for a moment then continued.

“I do know he cared for you very deeply Harry. He carried an enormous amount of guilt for putting so much on someone so young…but he had faith you would prevail. He asked only that we trust you when the time came to do so. He said I would know when and, of course, he was right.”

“So you're saying Albus set you on this path to keep the Dark Lord from procuring these…Deathly Hallows?”

“Professor,” Harry said tiredly, “That's not even the half of it.”

Harry looked at Hermione trying to get an indication from her how far he should go in this revelation.

“We might as well start from the beginning Harry. There's no reason to keep this a secret any longer, at least not from her.” She waved her wand and produced two more chairs.

Harry nodded. That four-poster bed seemed even farther away now but he knew this was necessary if they were going to get her to help them replace the Elder Wand. So they told McGonagall everything.

From the first time Harry had realized he had a connection with Voldemort's mind to the moment he had finally understood why the Elder Wand hadn't worked for the Dark Lord the way it was supposed to, Harry and Hermione recounted all of it.

McGonagall took it much better than they had expected. She only fainted twice. Once when they told her Voldemort had split his soul into seven pieces and again when Harry told her he had an unexpected Horcrux inside of him that could only be destroyed if Voldemort killed Harry himself.

After all was said, Professor McGonagall could manage only one comment.

“What a horrible, evil creature!”

“Sums it up quite nicely I think,” Harry said as he tried to rise to his feet. He was beyond exhausted now. He was becoming giddy. Hermione had to catch and steady him so he wouldn't fall on his face.

“Really Professor,” she implored, “We need to replace that wand and perform the Fidelius charm. I don't think Harry can last much longer. He's been up for over twenty four hours and has been through so much.”

Harry looked at Hermione and smiled.

“You've been through as much as I have.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione muttered, “I managed to dodge that whole getting murdered thing.”

“Right,” McGonagall said as she stood rather abruptly. She seemed to be invigorated by her indignation, “You're correct, of course, the fewer people who know the whereabouts of this wand, the better.”

“Once we exit from this room I will place a disillusionment charm upon us so we can move freely out to the monument and take care of this once and for all.”

“I also agree Ms. Granger that we should create the elusion this wand has been destroyed. I will meet with Kingsley and see to it personally the proper people are notified and covered under the Fidelius umbrella.”

“I believe I still carry a small amount of weight at the Ministry.” She smiled as she made her way to open the exit.

And so it was done. With the Elder Wand replaced back in the hands of Albus Dumbledore and the Fidelius charm performed to make sure it stayed there, Hermione took Harry by the hand and they made their way back toward the castle.

I can finally get some sleep!

As he looked up, he noticed they were headed out away from Hogwarts toward the gate guarded by the two winged boars.

“Where are we going Hermione? I thought you were taking me to lie down?' Harry asked quizzically through his sleepy haze.

“I am,” she said smiling, patting him on the back, “not to worry.”

As they passed beyond the Hogwarts boundaries, Hermione turned and gathered Harry in a tight embrace.

Oh my, Ron wouldn't like this at all!

His brain was slowly taking on the consistency of porridge.

She gave him her sweet crooked little smirk, turned on the spot and they both vanished with a loud `POP.'

The next thing Harry knew, he was being gently laid down into his Godfather's old bed at his house at #12 Grimmuald Place. As he found himself burrowing into the comfortable mattress, he heard Hermione's soft voice.

“Hang on mister,” she scolded, “not quite yet.”

He felt her tugging his shirt off over his head. Next went his trainers and then his socks. He could then feel her tugging on his…

HELLO!!

…Harry sat bolt upright just in time to see Hermione unbuttoning his trousers.

“May I ask what you're doing witch?”

“What does it look like I'm doing you dolt?” Hermione looked at him strangely, “I'm taking off your trousers.”

“I can see that,” Harry said in a slur, “I think I can handle that part of it,” his face flushed a bright red.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin Harry,” She put her hands on her hips, “you're acting like you're eleven years old.”

“By the way,” he asked as he gave up. He fell back on the bed and let her do as she pleased, “how did you get away from the Weasley clan?”

Harry looked down, watching as she unzipped him and begin to tug him out of his trousers. Her hair covered most of her face so he couldn't see her reaction, if she even had one.

“Lift,” she said.

Harry lifted his rump off the bed as she pulled the trousers down to his knees. His body felt like it weighed a thousand tons.

It's all very clinical, being undressed by a bossy little know-it-all nightmare. I always thought being disrobed by a girl would be…erm…different.

Harry chuckled. Hermione looked up at him.

“What's so funny?” She asked.

She always looks so serious…

“Nothing really,” he paused to reflect for a moment, “It's just that you're always the one stuck taking care of me when I can't seem to take care of myself.”

He tried to read her face as she finally extracted his legs from his worn out Dudley hand-me-downs. He could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a smile but his vision had gone blurry, even with his glasses on so he couldn't be sure. It could have been a grimace.

“Someone has to Harry,” he heard her whisper, or had she said it at all. Maybe he was imagining it. He was so tired.

He was then suddenly struck with a terrible thought.

“What am I going to do when you're not around any more?”

That was what he wanted to say but he wasn't sure it had come out right. He had lost control of his mouth as well.

Harry could no longer keep his eyes open as he felt blankets being pulled up to his chin. The warmth and softness of the bed took him.

Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard Hermione say something.

“I told them I had more important things to do and I will always be around to take care of you, you git, now go to sleep,” she reached up and slid his glasses from his face and placed them on the small, spindly legged table beside the bed, “Besides, you'll have Ginny.”

Ginny!

He felt soft, warm lips being pressed on his forehead right over the lighting bolt shaped scar just before total blackness claimed him.

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2. 2 - Setting Things to Right

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A.N. The first several chapters were so large I thought it better to break them up into smaller ones. Please review…even if you hate it! Thanks.

Standard disclaimers apply

Chapter Two - Setting Things to Right

After Hermione had taken Harry to #12, she decided to return to Hogwarts instead of going home to her parent's house. They weren't there yet, after all and she had asked permission to leave Crookshanks with Andromeda Tonks. It was the only one she could think of who might look after her little beastie.

Her old cat-kneazle immediately took to little Teddy from the start. Crooks loved the little Morph-magus. He wouldn't let anyone he didn't know anywhere near the child. Hermione thought it quite un-natural but Andromeda thought it very sweet.

Crookshanks would sit at the edge of Teddy's crib and swish his furry tale. Teddy would laugh and gurgle happily trying to catch it in his chubby little hands. It would keep him occupied for hours. Her pet seemed quite content at the Tonks house.

Her plan was to try and get a good night's sleep and meet with Professor McGonagall in the morning. She was going to need assistance getting her parents back and since the Headmistress had been the one to oversee the administration of the memory modification to her parents, McGonagall was the one she needed to help her.

What bothered Hermione was how they were going to integrate her mother and father back into their dental practice. The wizards and Oblivators swooped in and generally shut the office down. She just hoped her parents hadn't lost all their patients to other clinics. She would have to discuss that with the Professor as well.

The hallways of Hogwarts were silent now in the late evening. The repair efforts had been halted until the fallowing day. She could still see places that had yet to be fixed.

The old castle took quite a beating yet still stood as strong as ever.

There was one more thing she wanted to take care of before she turned in. She worried about Harry being alone at #12 so she was going to try and convince someone to stay with him.

As she made her way down into the lower hallway, she found the painting of the large bowl of fruit. She tickled the pear and the doorway to the kitchen opened.

She ducked inside to find a multitude of house elves scurrying this way and that, all busy preparing for what promised to be a large breakfast with all the volunteers present to help with the repairs.

The smells of food was almost overwhelming her senses as she scanned the space for one old, wrinkled house elf in particular.

She spied Kreacher in the midst of the organized chaos croaking out orders in every direction. It seemed he had become a leader of sorts.

The fake Horcrux locket still hung about his skinny neck although his appearance was much improved.

When the house elves spied her, they rushed toward her bearing trays laden with all manner of food, bread and cheeses, bowing low to allow her to take what she pleased.

“Thank you…b…but no,” Hermione was taken aback slightly by the fuss, “I'm just here to see Kreacher. Kreacher may I have a word please.”

Kreacher ambled toward her and bowed low. The locket rapped heavy on the stone floor.

“Kreacher is at your service Mistress,” he croaked.

That statement made Hermione's heart twinge slightly. Though she had mostly abandoned her S.P.E.W. endeavors, it still didn't set well with her most wizards still considered house elves to be beneath them.

There would be time for that someday…

She hoped, but today was not the day. Other things…other people were more important then even her own self interests.

“Kreacher, I was wondering if I could ask a very important favor of you?”

“Of course, Mistress,” the wrinkled old house elf bowed low once again.

“Harry Potter has returned to Grimmuald Place. I believe he will be staying there for a while. He's sleeping at the moment but he's there quite alone, none the less. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to pop in on him from time to time just to make sure he is alright. I'll try to look in on him myself but I'm not sure it will be as often as I would like. I do think he would appreciate your company.”

“It would be my honor to see to Harry Potter's well being Mistress,” he croaked excitedly.

“Excellent! Thank you Kreacher.”

A rather small house elf came up and pressed a cup of tea into her hands. She noticed something oddly familiar about this particular little elf. Then suddenly it hit her.

“Winky!”

The little elf's eyes grew wide. She seemed suddenly frightened.

“Don't you remember…,” Hermione then recalled Winky had spent most of her time under the inebriating effects of butterbeer. She probably couldn't remember her own name those years ago.

“Well anyway,” Hermione added hastily, “I was a friend of Dobby's…”

As soon as the name left her lips the little house elf crumpled in to a sobbing heap on the floor, dropping her tea tray with a loud crash.

Several agitated house elves rushed to clean up the mess as others hauled Winky's blubbering form off to a secluded corner.

Hermione felt horrible.

“She'll be alright in a day or so Mistress. Not to worry,” Kreacher croaked but he looked a bit embarrassed by the whole spectacle.

Some things never change.

“I'm really sorry Kreacher. I best be going,” she downed the last of her tea and handed the cup and saucer back to Kreacher. He bowed as Hermione made her way out of the kitchen.

As she made her way toward the Gryffindor tower Hermione found herself instead standing outside the Prefect's bathroom.

“Pine fresh,” she muttered and the door swung open silently.

The next thing she knew, Hermione was up to her neck in a hot, soothing bath. It felt wonderful on the many bumps and bruises she had acquired during the fight.

She soaked there for what seemed like hours trying to let the events of the past several months float away along with the severe layer of grime and dirt that had accumulated over the past 24 hours.

She blearily gazed up at the portrait of the beautiful half-naked mermaid lounging on her divan, watching Hermione with barely veiled interest.

Hermione had never paid the portrait much attention in her previous trips to the bath.

She could see the woman was beyond natural human beauty.

She had an angelic face with long tresses of spun gold. She was un-naturally well endowed for a woman with such a slender frame.

She seemed unashamed to display them for anyone who cared to gaze upon her portrait, completely unconcerned about her immodesty.

Even the shimmering blue-green scales that covered her fish-like lower body did nothing to detract from her femininity.

She now understood why the boys spent such an inordinate amount of time in this place. Ron was at the top of that list. He'd single-handedly logged more hours in the Prefect's bath then all the other Prefects combined.

Hermione couldn't help but look down over her own body and feel a wave of inadequacy wash over her tired mind.

How could she ever compete with women who were so much more desirable than she felt she was?

She thought of girls like Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, Angelina Johnson, and even Ginny. Mother Nature had been most kind to the little redhead over the past year. She was gorgeous.

It was easy to see why Harry was smitten with her.

Hermione's mood seemed to darken as she allowed herself to sink into self loathing and pity.

It was very unusual for her to be so self-conscious but the events of the past few months had taken a toll on her. It made her re-evaluate many things.

As she washed herself in the hot fragrant water an ethereal voice cut through the silence of the bathroom.

“Why do you human women insist on comparing yourselves to one-another to gauge your own self-worth?”

Hermione jumped, her knee-jerk reaction was to duck under the bubbly water and covered herself with her arms looking around the bath for the source of the voice. It was obviously feminine.

“No need to hide my dear. I've seen you bathing here for years you know. I could tell you that you have nothing to be ashamed of but I fear it would do little good to assuage your feelings of inferiority.”

She glanced up at the mermaid and found the woman smiling at her and swishing her tail slightly. Her large lavender eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight of the bathroom.

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to her first comment. Her initial reaction was one of annoyance but as she floated there in the fragrant water the mermaid's second comment sunk into her beleaguered mind.

“What? Can you read my thoughts or something?”

The mermaid laughed quietly. It was like the sound of small silver bells tinkling in the vast open space of the Prefect's bath. The sound was more than pleasant, Hermione had to admit.

“I'm afraid it's nothing so dramatic love. I have spent over one hundred years observing students who bath here and have become quite adept at reading their emotions. So tell me then, my dear Ms. Granger. Why do you torment yourself so?”

“How do you know my name?” Hermione looked at the painting with her eyebrows raised.

The mermaid rolled her beautiful eyes and lay back down on her divan, wearying from the silly questions.

“You must be joking…every painting in this castle knows your name. I can see you are in no mood for conversation so I shall leave you to your bath.”

That revelation stunned Hermione. She knew she had spent a lot of time at Hogwarts but she didn't realize the paintings even cared that much. As she floated there her mind drifted back to the mermaid's initial question.

Why did she compare herself to those other girls? Wasn't everyone special in their own way? Why did she care that Cho Chang had bigger boobs than she did? The girl had an empty head!

Because that's what boys want Granger and you know it…You could have brains oozing out of your ears - which would be rather gross - but boys would never even notice. They haven't yet, have they?

She glanced up at the mermaid who was now fanning herself slowly with a large palm leaf.

“I suppose it's only natural for us to compare ourselves to others who have…things we wish we did.”

The mermaid stopped fanning herself and her eyes fell upon Hermione bobbing in the soapy water like a cork.

“And what…things... would those be?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't sure she liked having her questions thrown back at her.

“When boys look at me they don't see the same things when they look at other girls. They don't see me in the same way for the same reasons. I guess it's just a bit…discouraging sometimes.”

“So you feel as if you're not as desirable as other young ladies?”

If the mermaid was trying to help Hermione feel better, she was failing miserably.

“I suppose,” She found herself becoming annoyed again, “Look, it really doesn't matter all that much and to be honest, in the grand scheme of things, it's just not that important…”

Hermione made her way to the edge of the pool sized tub. She figured if the dirt hadn't come off by now then it was stuck to her for good.

“Would it help to tell you there is one who holds you in higher regard than any other?”

That gave her pause for a moment but then she figured maybe Ron told the mermaid things when he was bathing. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or mortified.

“Yes…well some boys don't know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“Oh I assure you, he didn't speak freely. He was much like you. He seemed to be deeply troubled. He never came very often…”

That surprised Hermione greatly. She realized the mermaid wasn't talking about Ron.

“Once he came with a rather strange golden egg. I often wondered why he didn't take my advice and pursue you but I suppose it was because you were both so very young.”

Hermione glared at the mermaid for a moment.

“We had more important things to do and I'm sure he fancies another girl anyway.”

The mermaid gave Hermione a sultry smile.

“I'm sure you're right my dear but you may be surprised at what boys tell me…”

With that cryptic statement, Hermione had had enough. She decided she didn't want or care to know.

She dragged herself from the warmth of the tub, dried off, dressed in her freshly scourgified clothes and headed for the Gryffindor tower.

She pushed what the mermaid had said to her to the back of her mind. She knew the truth and there was no sense thinking about things that didn't matter.

As she made her way through the silent castle hallways, she thought about Ron. She thought about the way she had ditched him and his family. Guilt spiked in her mind and it made her stomach clench uncomfortably. It only served to make her feel worse.

Ron was angry with her when she tried to explain why she thought she had to help Harry replace the wand. She hoped it wasn't as lame as it sounded to her then but she was right in her assumption. She hoped he would understand. If she and Harry explained McGonagall's reaction then surely he would see. He had to.

Upon her arrival, she suddenly realized she didn't know the password to get beyond the Fat Lady's portrait. The portrait eyed her wearily.

“Something wrong young lady?” The Fat Lady asked her.

She was about to ask to enter anyway for what good she knew it would do when two burley Aurors came around the corner and spotted her.

“You there!” one of the men said, “Whaddaya mean by bein' ou' this time o' nigh'?”

Hermione stiffened and her hand instinctively reached for her wand.

As they came closer, recognition seemed to dawn on their faces. They both pulled up short as they looked down at her.

The other Auror thumped the one that had spoken on the arm.

“Blimey Luther, tha' there is Herminownee Granger. You know, th' one what was wiff `erry Potter. The young lady what's picture's in the Prophet I showed ya'.

Hermione had to stifle a roll of her eyes.

Thanks for murdering my name!

Luther squinted down at her.

“Bugger, I believe you're righ' lad,” he mumble. He glanced at his mate, then with a growl, swatted Henry's head, “Take off ye' hat ya' tosspot. Show some respect why don' ya'”

Henry whipped his hat off looking slightly ashamed.

The whole display took Hermione completely by surprise but then his words sunk into her exhausted mind.

“Hang on. Did you say my picture was in the Prophet?”

Luther brightened.

“Oh ya' Miss. Big story `bout what happen' las' nigh'. Whole wizard world's talkin' `bout it. See for yourself.”

The large man slipped a folded paper from beneath the crook of his arm, unfolded it and handed it to her.

A glaring headline read…

VOLDEMORT DEFEATED!!

Hermione quickly scanned over the story and saw, below the fold, a picture of her, Harry and Ron that was taken several years earlier by Colin Creevey. The caption under the photo read, `Golden Trio Ends Dark Lord's Reign of Terror!'

She suddenly felt terribly weary. Less than 24 hours after the final battle the news had spread throughout the entire world like a wind-driven forest fire.

Good news travels fast…bad news travels even faster…gossip travels at the speed of light!

She looked up at the two men and could do nothing but grimace.

The man named Henry looked at her awkwardly strangling his cap.

“Um…'scuse me Miss…Do ya' think…um…well, could ya sign the Daily Prophet for us?”

Luther gave Henry a scathing look.

“Don' be `n idiot `enry. She prolly gits that sort a rubbish from loads a' folk. Pardon me mate Miss Granger. He's a bit daft sometimes.”

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh, cry or be incensed by the request.

Autograph indeed!

“Er…you're the first actually.” Reaching out, she took the quill and paper and scratched her name as neatly as possible across the bottom of the front page. She handed them back to a very pleased Henry.

“Blimey! Thanks miss. If `ere's anythin' I can ever do…”

Hermione smiled at them sweetly.

“Actually there is something.”

“Name it!” Luther growled.

“Headmistress McGonagall forgot to give me the new password to the Gryffindor dormitory and I'm really tired…”

She was about to explain further when Henry held up a large hand.

“No' ta worry young lady,” he turned to the Fat lady and said, “Maroon and Gold!”

The portrait swung wide as Luther gave her a slight bow and a sweeping gesture with his arm.

“Thank you.” Hermione said as she stepped through the portal.

“Thin' nofin' of it miss,” Henry said, then he stopped abruptly, “Oh, Hang on, jus' one more question if I may?” He fumbled with his copy of the Daily Prophet for a moment.

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

Henry's eyebrows pinched together in concentration on the paper.

“D' ya' happen to know a six letter word for…a cry of anguish or sorrow?”

Hermione chuckled.

“I believe the word you're looking for is L-A-M-E-N-T.”

He scribbled on the paper then smiled brightly.

“Tha's it! Thank you Miss Granger!”

Luther rolled his eyes as he guided his partner away.

“G'night Miss.”

“Goodnight gentlemen and thank you again.”

She could here them talking as the portrait swung closed.

“Toll' ya' she's brilliant.”

“Come on ya' bloody toe rag, we go' corridors ta' check.”

The Gryffindor common room was silent and deserted as she made her way to the stairs to the girl's dorm rooms. The light from a waning moon streamed through the windows, bathing the space in an ethereal glow.

Memories swam through her mind of happier days spent there. A deep sense of melancholy swept over her.

The events of the past several weeks seemed to come crashing down on her all at once.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she leaned against the ancient stone wall next to the stairway.

She couldn't seem to hold back the tears as a single thought pushed itself to the front of her exhausted mind.

What does the future hold for me now?

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3. 3 - The Death of Innocence

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A.N. This was a tough chapter to write. I hope you like!

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Three - The Death of Innocence

There were simply too many of them to apparate at the same time and with Fred's coffin it would have been very dangerous to try so Charlie and Percy had gone ahead to make sure the lane in front of the main entrance to St. Mungo's was secure and Muggle free.

Mr. Weasley retrieved an old watering can from the ruins of Hagrid's hut and created a portkey. As they stood waiting, Hermione kept looking back over her shoulder into the Great Hall.

“Ron, I don't see Harry. Something's gone wrong! He was right behind us!”

“Relax Hermione,” Ron whispered, “He's the bloody Savior of the Wizard World. Not to mention, he's got the…you-know-what!

“No, Ron! You don't understand.” Hermione was beginning to panic, “He's exhausted. Someone could have knocked him out and taken it! I need to find him.”

She recalled Neville had asked Harry to see the wand. It wasn't that she thought Neville would try to take it but Neville wasn't the only one who knew about the Elder Wand.

She steeled herself.

“I'm sorry Ron. I'll try to catch you up if I can.”

Hermione kissed him on the cheek then streaked back toward the Great Hall.

“Hermione!” Ron watched her go, his irritation spiked.

Ginny and Dean came up beside him.

“Everything alright, Ron,” Ginny asked, watching Hermione's retreating figure.

Ron just shook his head. His anger at Hermione was palpable. Part of him understood her concern for replacing the Elder Wand but he felt there were plenty of others who could have helped Harry accomplish the task.

“I don't know. She said she was worried Harry didn't follow us into the Great Hall. He was right behind us in the hallway.”

Now Ginny looked a little worried.

“Do you think we need to go help her find him?”

Ron looked at his baby sister and then at Dean. He was trying to figure out why Dean was even with them but he remembered what it was like to poke his nose into Ginny's affairs so he just sighed and kept any comments to himself.

“No. I think everything's alright. She's just over-reacting as always. He's probably using his cloak. You know Harry. Probably doesn't want the attention.”

Arthur called everyone to the portkey.

“Very well, on three then,” Arthur counted, “One…Two…Three!”

There was a brilliant flash of blue and the group disappeared.

Everyone made it to the landing point in front of the Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Department Store window standing up. Bill and Arthur still suspended the long, narrow pine box that contained Fred's body as Charlie and Percy joined them. Lee Jordon joined the group as well. He gave George a pat on the shoulder.

All the Weasleys were present along with Fleur and Dean.

“Lee if you would be so kind,” Mr. Weasley asked.

Lee made his way to the mannequin and announced their presence.

“Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Percy Weasley, George Weasley, Fred Weasley…deceased, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Fleur Weasley, Dean Thomas and Lee Jordon requesting entrance.”

They waited silently for a moment then a voice crackled out of the mannequin.

“Very well, you may proceed.”

Bill and Arthur went first with the casket then the rest followed. Charlie touched his mother's shoulder.

“Mum, Percy and I are going to wait a bit, make sure we're not followed.”

Molly looked at Charlie slightly alarmed.

“Followed by whom dear? Are you expecting trouble?”

“No mum,” Percy chimed in, “But the confrontation at Hogwarts is all over the Prophet so it wouldn't surprise me if they're monitoring the flue and portkey networks to try to get a scoop. Believe me, it's what I would do.”

Molly cringed, her sad eyes resting on each of her boys faces.

“Very well, but you two be careful!” She scolded.

Charlie rolled his eyes as the rest went through.

As the group gained the main corridor of the hospital, it was a virtual riot of activity. Healers and nurses rushed by in every direction. Wizards and witches of every shape and size lay on gurneys, sat in chairs or simply slumped against the walls.

They tried to make their way through the crowd as carefully as they could. Bill and Arthur had the casket suspended at shoulder height.

There was a loud thump and they turned to see an older healer sitting on his backside dazedly rubbing his head.

Ginny and Dean rushed to help him to his feet. Dean brushed off the back of his robe.

“My apologies Adler,” Arthur said as he and Bill lifted the casket above their heads out of harms way, “I shouldn't have been so careless.”

The healer wobbled slightly but waved a hand.

“Think nothing of it Arthur. I should have been paying more attention. Is that…” he pointed at the casket.

Arthur nodded.

The healer came up to Molly and took her hands in his.

“I'm so sorry for your loss, Molly dear.” He looked sadly around at all of them.

“Thank you Milben,” Molly gave him a fervent hug, “Thank you so much.”

Healer Adler waved his hand again; an angry-looking bump was forming on the right side of his forehead. He tottered away only to be swallowed by the throng.

“Dad, we best get Fred to the lift as quickly as possible,” Bill said, giving his father a significant look.

Charlie and Percy came up behind them.

“Right you are Bill,” Arthur looked around, “Alright, no sense in all of us going to the morgue. Ginny, Dean, Fleur, Lee why don't you four accompany George to the Healers while the rest of us see to Fred. Well join you as soon as he's in the proper hands.”

Fleur moved next to Bill and kissed him deeply.

“Do be careful, mon amour, s'il vous plait.”

Ron was amazed his brother Bill could get kissed like that and not drop the casket.

George laid his hand then leaned his head reverently on the side of Fred's casket.

“See ya' in a few days bro',” he whispered, “Don't you be making a racket down there and wake the dead.”

Everyone nodded and the group split up. Ron watched the others go. He didn't like the fact they were splitting up. He wasn't sure why, exactly.

He suddenly wished however, he would have been sent to the Healers with George but said nothing as he fell in step with the others moving toward the lifts.

Hermione's absence was like a glaring spotlight shining down on the floor next to him. He wanted to understand why she felt she had to help Harry but it still irritated him that Ron seemed, once again to be playing second-fiddle to the Savior of the Wizard World.

Maybe my leaving them during the hunt for the Horcruxes had a worse effect than I first thought…

He wanted to believe the way she had kissed him in the Room of Requirement the night before had settled things but now he wasn't so sure.

As they waited for the lift to arrive, Arthur gave his wife a significant look.

“Molly, perhaps you should go with George as well…”

Molly looked at Arthur mortified.

“Arthur Weasley, I will not! We'll see George straight away,” her eyes began to well; “The idea!”

“Sorry dear,” Arthur cringed, “Not to worry.”

The lift rattled to a stop and the gate slid noisily back. More than a dozen people clamored off and much to the group's relief it was quite empty when they carefully guided the casket inside then piled in after it.

As the gate slid closed, Arthur said, “Morgue, please.”

A pleasant female voice chimed, “Wizard morgue…Level Seven.

The lift groaned as it began to descend down through the floors below.

When it reached Level Seven, they all crowded out and stepped aside so the casket could be guided out without hitting anything.

As soon as Ron stepped off the lift, the cold air hit him like an Arctic blast. He couldn't help but shiver. Little puffs of mist hung in the air as each of them breathed.

The Wizard Morgue was much more modern then Ron had expected. The lift opened into what was a rather long, wide hallway. The floors were a highly polished white marble.

On either side of the hall were many narrow white doors. Each door had a window set in the wall next to it.

The walls and frames around the doors and windows seemed to be made of shiny silver metal. A small red plaque hung on each door. Ron could see the plaques had names on them printed in white letters.

At the end of the long hall were two large metal double doors. Each had a small window set at about head height in the center.

Ron could see a face peering out at them through one of the small windows.

“This way everyone,” Arthur said as they began moving to the large double doors at the end of the hall.

As they passed each door Ron could see some of the smaller side rooms had names on the doors. He saw a plaque that had Colin Creevey's name on it.

Ron crossed the hall and saw the name Tonks; Nymphadora. Next to her was Lupin; Remus and some additional words were below his name; Lycanthropic DNA.

He peered into the window. He could see that inside the room was a shiny metal table against the wall just below the window. There was nothing on it.

There was a waist-high table in the center of the room. On it laid the outline of a body covered in a white sheet.

He could tell the feet from the outline of the sheet but the rest of the image was lost in the darkness of the little room. There didn't seem to be anything else inside.

Suddenly, the reality of the battle from the previous night landed heavily upon him. People he knew had died! His brother Fred died! He felt heavy, as if the forces of the earth were pressing down harder on his body.

Just as he was about to go back to the others, the hall was filled with an ear-splitting, howling shriek.

Ron turned, his wand in his hand, just in time to see his mother flying across the hall in a blur with her wand out.

Confusion clouded his mind as he watched the scene unfold.

“CHARLIE…P…PERCY,” his father yelled, “YOUR MOTHER!” He and Bill were struggling to lower Fred's casket to the floor.

Ron was finally able to make his feet move as he dashed to try and intercept her as well but they were too slow to react.

Molly raised her wand and literally blew one of the small white doors off its hinges to one of the rooms ahead of Ron.

She screamed again as she made her way into the room, Charlie and Percy were right on her heels.

Ron got there just in time to see Percy reach out and grab his mother's outstretched arm and redirect it as she screamed a curse.

“INCINERATE!”

The red streak just missed the figure on the table, barely nicking the sheet as it hit the white wall beyond. The wall erupted in flames.

Percy yelled as he struggled with his mother.

“Mum Please!”

Charlie was on them in an instant. He waved his wand and the flames were extinguished before they could do much damage. The only thing that remained was a little smoke.

His mother's face was a purple mask of raw rage. It shocked Ron. He'd never seen her like that before. He piled inside the room to help restrain her.

“Mum what are you…” It was all he could get out.

“YOU FOUL, DISGUSTING ANIMAL!” Molly was screaming and struggling to free her wand arm. Tears coursed down her cheeks as her eyes bore holes in the figure lying still as death on the metal table.

Behind them out in the hall, Ron could hear shouts of others. Several Morgue employees had burst through the large double doors at the end of the hall. They were trying to figure out what was going on.

“Now see here,” someone shouted, “what is the meaning of all this?”

Ron heard Bill.

“Not to worry gentlemen, we've got this.”

They had managed to move her back toward the door when Arthur seemed to materialize out of thin air.

“Molly,” he cried. When she didn't respond, her wild eyes still locked on the body, Arthur yelled, “MOLLY!”

His father's booming voice seemed to cut through the noise and confusion. Everything seemed to come to a grinding halt and all went silent, except for his mother's desperate sobs.

It was the first time in his life Ron had ever heard his father raise his voice like that.

Arthur took Molly in a tight embrace and turned her to face him.

“Molly…Molly! Look at me!”

She turned and looked up at Arthur, her eyes still wild with anger, her cheeks soaked with tears.

His father's voice returned as calm and controlled as ever.

“Listen to me dear…”

Molly struggled again.

“I WILL NOT HAVE MY SON IN THE SAME PLACE AS THAT…THAT…”

“Molly please!” Arthur implored, “There is nothing good that can come of this. This won't bring our Freddy back. That…that THING…is gone…He's gone Molly and he will never hurt our family again. Harry saw to that!”

Molly didn't appear to be convinced. She seemed to wrestle with a monumental internal struggle. Arthur took her face gently in both his hands.

“Molly love! You can not give in to despair. Do you understand? If you do then you allow him victory. Don't you see…don't you remember? This is precisely what he wanted, to tear us apart from the inside. If you give in then he wins…he wins Molly, even from the grave! I know you don't want that. I need you Molly. We need you here with us…now!”

Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting.

Those final words seemed to snap her out of her blind rage. Molly looked up into Arthur's worried eyes and nodded.

“I'm sorry Arthur,” she whispered as she fell forward into her husband's arms, burying her face in his chest. Her whole body racked with deep sobs of unendurable pain.

“There, there, Molly. You have nothing to apologize for.” Arthur held her tightly, gently rocking her where they stood. They all seemed to take a huge sigh of relief.

Arthur looked over his shoulder and motioned to Bill and Ron to guide their mother out of the room.

For the first time, Ron saw real fear in his father's eyes. It was raw and deep. He tried to give his father a smile as he took hold of his mother and, along with Bill, swept her from the room. He glanced down and saw the name on the red plaque. It made his blood boil.

Tom Marvolo Riddle (AKA)

Lord Voldemort

Ophidian DNA

Ron stomped the plaque hard and it shattered into a dozed pieces, obscuring the words.

That felt bloody good!

Arthur leaned against the metal table next to the doorway. He raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brows despite the bitter cold of the room. It was shaking. He then realized he was shaking all over.

Charlie stepped in front of him.

“You ok dad?”

Arthur took a few deep, steadying breaths before he trusted himself to say anything.

“I thought we'd lost her there for a moment son,” his attempt at a smile failed.

“Dad,” Charlie said, “I've met some brave people in my life. I've watched men stand their ground against some of the fiercest creatures in the world. I watched a seventeen year old boy face down the worst nightmare in wizard history…but what you just did took more guts and courage than I have ever seen.”

Charlie placed both his hands gently on his father's shoulders.

“Arthur Weasley you are one of the greatest, most noble wizards I have ever known. Have I ever told you how very proud I am to be your son?”

Arthur reached out and pulled Charlie in a tight embrace, patting his son on the back of the head.

“Thank you son,” Arthur sniffed, “That means more to me than you could possibly imagine.”

Arthur released Charlie and stood up.

A rather tall, thin wizard in periwinkle robes, beady dark eyes and an oversized white handle-bar moustache came up to them and peered around the room. Percy was right behind him.

“Arthur, what in Merlin's name?”

“Sorry Whellingsby,” Arthur shot the man a thin smile, “Just a misunderstanding I'm afraid. Not to worry. We'll put everything to right at once.”

Ron stood out in the hall holding his mother. It amazed him that his father seemed to know everyone in the Ministry.

Whellingsby nodded.

“Very well,” Whellingsby waved the other officials off, “Bringing in Fred I see.”

“Yes,” was all Arthur could say. He glanced at Molly who was now surrounded by Ron and Bill.

“Bad business this was,” Whellingsby said, “but at least there wasn't as many as last time.”

That was small consolation to Arthur. He remembered how it had been the last time Voldemort tried to rise to power.

So many died…and for what?

Percy came up to his father.

“You go on dad, Charlie and I will see to this.”

Arthur nodded, patting Percy on the shoulder then made his way over to where the others were waiting. He and Bill levitated Fred and Whellingsby led them toward the double doors.

Charlie set to mending the door as Percy scourgified the room. When everything looked as it had, they turned to leave.

As Percy pulled the door closed he stopped and gazed down at the lifeless figure lying on the table with unveiled contempt.

“We should have let mum send your arse to hell in ashes…Would have been a fitting end, I'd say. Your quest for ultimate power…failed,” he said threw clenched teeth, “Beaten by a child! Now that's justice!”

Percy slammed the door and turned to join the rest of his family as they made there way into the morgue.

Charlie smiled and clapped his brother on the shoulder, “I think there's hope for you yet Perce.”

It took about an hour to process Fred's body in the morgue but once they were done they wasted no time getting out of the place.

As they made their way to the surgical ward, Ron noticed Dean and Ginny sitting very close together on a bench in a hallway. He called to the others as he headed toward them.

Ron gave Ginny a questioning look as he came up to them. Ginny just glared at him. He let it go. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation with his sister at the moment.

“George still in with the healer,” he asked.

“No,” Ginny answered, not looking up at him, “I think he's just waiting for his ear to come back. Phlegm and Lee are in with him.”

“Right,” Ron said as the others arrived. They all went into the room to see George.

He was sitting up on a table smiling and laughing with a very pretty black-haired nurse. The hole where his ear used to be looked much cleaner and smoother then it had. Molly went to his side and hugged him tightly.

“Hello mum,” George beamed, “get Fred squared away alright?”

Molly was still sniffling so Arthur replied.

“Yes George, Fred's in good hands.”

Bill looked quizzically at George for a moment.

“What is this then, George? What are they going to do with that hole in the side of your head?”

George simply smiled.

“Glad you asked that question Bill. It seems there is a Healer that has been experimenting with certain types of prosthetics for magic folk.”

“Pros…what?” Ron asked scratching his head.

“Prosthetics…They are like replacement body parts. They're not real of course but Muggles have been using them for years. Let's say a bloke looses a leg in a horrible accident. A prosthetic leg allows that bloke to walk again quite normal from what I understand.”

“Wicked,” Ron said.

Everyone looked shocked.

“Mad Eye Moody could have done with one of those legs, I'll bet,” said Charlie.

“Nah,” said Bill, “he would have just gone and gotten it blown right off again.”

They all chuckled.

“Right in one Bill,” George continued, “So the Healer came in and made a cast of my good ear. Now he's making a mirror-image cast of the ear and he's going to make my replacement from the new cast.”

“What's it made out of?” Lee asked.

George shrugged.

“Not sure really, I suspect it will be something like our Extendable Ears. As a matter of fact, I gave the healer a set to look at. He was quite impressed with them.” George smiled widely.

“How is it attached to your head,” Ginny inquired?

“Probably a simple sticking charm Gin,” answered Percy.

“I suspect,” replied George, “but it will be removable if I want to take it off to clean it or whatever.”

Lee Jordan got a mischievous gleam in his eye and he looked at George.

“Too bad it doesn't spin round or flap or something like that.”

George got the same look as he stroked his chin in thought.

“Now boys,” admonished Arthur, “let's not be too hasty.”

As Ron stood there watching his family, he couldn't help but wonder why they weren't more sad at the thought of their son and brother stuffed in a refrigerator like so much sausage several floors below them at that moment. For a reason he couldn't quite understand he felt a growing sense of frustration as he watched them laughing and smiling and joking.

He couldn't seem to quell the anger swelling in his chest. He suddenly wanted to hit something. What he said next just seemed to come out on its own.

“I don't suppose any of you care that Fred's below us right now and he can't be here to have a go at George's new ear because he's quite DEAD at the moment.”

Everyone seemed to freeze in place. Ron stepped toward George with his hands clenched in fists.

“Want to know how you really lost your ear mate? It was a curse sent by Severus Snape! That's right! It was meant to hit the Death Eater who was trying to off Remus Lupin. Snape missed and hit your ear instead.”

No-one said anything. George sat on the examination table looking at Ron with an unreadable expression. He then looked around at all the others.

“Mind if I have a word in private with my gormless brother?”

It took a moment for everyone to file out of the room. Arthur hesitated for a moment looking at both his sons.

George held up a hand.

“It's alright dad. I just want to have a little chat. I swear he'll have both bullocks when I'm done.”

Arthur nodded and left the room. Ron stiffened with resentment. George took a deep breath.

“What seems to be your problem Ron?”

Ron had no idea why he was so angry but he couldn't seem to quell the fury running through him at the moment.

“Seems to me you should be a bit more broke up about our brother being dead, that's all.”

Still, George's face remained impassive.

“And what does that mean exactly?”

Ron just shrugged. He wasn't sure what it meant.

George looked down at his hands for a moment and then returned his neutral gaze to his brother.

“Listen to me carefully Ron. No-one in this family is more devastated by Fred's death then I am. It's as if I've lost a part of me and you can't possibly understand how that feels. I'm going to miss him every day for the rest of my life but what I will not do is dishonor his memory by moping about or hiding like a scared little rabbit under my bed.”

“Our brother died a hero Ron, don't you see. Feeling sad or depressed wouldn't make anything better. Besides, he'd probably come back to haunt me…looking like toad-faced Umbridge or something just to spite me if I went moping about.”

George chuckled and Ron couldn't help but crack a smile at that one. George reached out and put his hand on Ron's shoulder.

“Understand what I'm getting at?”

Ron nodded looking at his shoes.

Something occurred to George.

“Now…if Fred had gone and blown himself up creating one of our experiments then I'd be down right grief-stricken but thankfully, he didn't. He sacrificed his life for us just as so many others did so we could be free.”

“Blimey, imagine what mum would have done to me if that happened. I suspect there would be a twin funeral!”

That cracked Ron up proper. George finally smiled a sad smile.

“Better now?”

“Makes sense I suppose.” Ron answered but he still didn't feel quite right.

“Good…fetch Lee for me, won't you? I want to discuss with him the finer pointes of magically modifying a prosthetic appendage.” He looked pointedly at Ron, “and if you breathe a word of this to the old man I'll hex warts all over your Ickle Ronnykins, got it?”

Just then a young-looking Healer walked in with a silver tray covered with a white cloth.

“Ah, speaking of said appendage!” George quipped.

Ron went out into the hall to fetch Lee. He heard them all talking in hushed tones.

“Well, I suppose we could stay at Aunt Muriel's,” Molly said.

“Nonsense,” Fleur announced, “`You and Ginevra must come and stay wiz us! We inseest, do we not, Bill?”

“Of course darling,” Bill smiled at his bride, “I only wish I had enough room to accommodate everyone.”

Molly looked a bit hesitant. Ginny looked as if she had stepped in stink sap.

“Thank you, dear,” Molly said with a smile.

“What about dad and Ron,” Ginny piped up a bit huffily, “Where are they going to stay?”

Arthur gave his youngest a significant look. Ginny shrank back behind Dean.

“I'm sure George wouldn't mind Ron staying with him in the flat over the shop,” Lee added.

“That will do for now,” Arthur said, “I can stay with Muriel for a few weeks. I'm sure she'll appreciate the company.”

“Harry said we could all stay at Grimmuald Place if we wanted,” Ron added.

Molly looked thoughtful for a moment. Ginny blanched three shades whiter.

“That's an idea,” she said, then added, “But poor Harry's been through so much. I don't think he needs us all blustering about the only place he feels safe. Lad needs some peace and quiet.”

Ginny's color seemed to return and she looked very much relieved. Ron's irritation returned. He wanted to know what was going on with his sister but that could wait. He wanted to stay at #12 but wasn't sure that anyone was even there. He figured Harry was still at Hogwarts.

He was about to tap Lee's shoulder to tell him George wanted him when they all heard a commotion at the end of the hall.

An elderly wizard in magenta robes was talking quite loudly to several harried-looking Healers.

“Arthur Weasley, have you seen him. They told me he could be found…” The old wizard looked toward them, “Ahh, Arthur there you are!”

He was stooped over, hobbling toward them with the aid of what appeared to be a very crooked cane. His breath came in wheezing gasps as he moved stiffly up the hall.

As he made his way closer, Ron could see the old man looked like he was a hundred years old. His face was folded in deep wrinkles and his eyes were drooped half closed.

Arthur moved forward to meet him.

“Penrose, what on earth are you doing here?”

The old man stopped and looked up at Arthur. When he tried to straighten up, his spine gave a nasty crack! It made everyone jump.

“Oh,” Penrose groaned, “this lumbago's going to be the death of me! Had to come Arthur. Just in from the Ministry…heard Kingsley Shacklebolt's bypassed the Minister's job...”

The old man paused. When the pause stretched on for what seemed like several minutes, they realized the old man had fallen asleep standing there. He started snoring lightly.

Arthur looked at the others over his shoulder. Everyone was staring at the old man open-mouthed.

“Sherwood Penrose, oldest member of the Wizengamot.” He said, as if that would explain everything.

Arthur reached out and gently gave Penrose a shake. The old man startled awake with a snort.

“I vote to allow Transylvania into the League of Wizards!” Sherwood yelled but then looked around confused, “Who are you?” He said as if stunned, “How in the name of Morgan le Fay did I get here?”

“Erm…you wanted to see me, Sherwood. I'm Arthur Weasley.”

“What...On yes…of course, of course,” Penrose blustered, “Shacklebolt told me he has put your name in the running for the Minister's seat, thought you'd like a leg up before the Prophet gets hold of it…MY WORD LADDY!”

The old man reared back, looking wide-eyed at Percy.

“Did anyone ever tell you you're the spitting image of Boreguard Fentwistle?”

“Beg pardon, sir?” Percy looked dazed.

Arthur looked at Percy shaking his head slightly as he took the old man by the arm and led him down the hall.

“I think it would be wise for you to head back to the Ministry Sherwood…”

Sherwood Penrose's announcement left everyone standing in stunned silence.

Charlie was the first to speak.

“Did I just hear that old codger right? Did he say dad was in the running for the Minister's job?”

“I believe so Charlie,” Bill said dazedly.

They all looked at one-another. Smiles started breaking out on all their faces, all except Ron.

Ron couldn't help but think of all the times the ministry had treated his family like scourge because of their position in the conflict with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He remembered how they conspired with the Daily Prophet to make Harry look like a complete nutter and portrayed Hermione as a scarlet women.

It annoyed him his family seemed to be getting sucked into the very thing that had kept them in abject poverty for most his young life.

Percy looked as if he was about to burst into tears. His bottom lip was quivering slightly.

“Arthur Weasley…Minster for Magic. Why that's…that's…”

“Ridiculous,” Ron said loudly. He was standing back a bit from everyone else with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

“Why in the world would you say such a thing Ronald?” His mother asked with a surprised look. They were all looking at him now.

“I'll tell you why, but first,” Ron looked pointedly at Lee, “George wanted to see you in the room mate…”

Lee ducked, gladly, in the door that led to George's room. When it swung closed Ron continued.

“I suppose you've forgotten how the ministry has treated us all these years. How they put dad in the worst possible positions and tried to convince everyone that Voldemort wasn't back and that Harry was a bleeding nutter…” Ron's anger was increasing with each word.

“That was before,” Bill said.

“Yes,” added Percy, “the Ministry was filled with spies from the Dark Lord's camp. Members were Imperiused right under our noses. Things will be much different now.”

“That's provided dad even wants the job,” Charlie said.

Fleur stepped from Bills arms into the middle of the group and looked around at them all with a red face.

“Listen to you! I can not believe what I am `ering. Arser Weasley would make a wonderful Meenister. `E `ees kind and generous. He `as more integrate zan any man I have ever known. He treats others weeth repsectamon. Your fazar ees a great weezard. I am surprised at you all!”

She tossed her silvery-blond main to the side as she stomped back toward Bill. She certainly got their attention.

“Oh Fleur,” Molly sniffed, “You're absolutely right, of course.”

“And just think,” Ginny said with a bright smile, “If dad gets chosen Minister we would get to live in the Minister's mansion!”

“That's right,” said Percy, “I almost forgot about that. Oh mum, you'd love it! It's got eight bedrooms!

“Eight bedrooms,” Molly asked, incredulously.

“Yes,” Ginny said, “that means we wouldn't have to rebuild the Burrow.”

Molly looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I suppose you're right Ginny dear,” she sighed, “beside, after next year you'll most all be out on your own. It will be just Arthur and I.”

Her face wrinkled into sadness again.

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing.

NOT REBUILD THE BURROW! How could they possible think such a thing?

“What do you mean, not rebuild the Burrow?” He asked, but his question was lost in a throng of excited confusion.

Just then George came out from the room with Lee looking very much normal with two ears. Everyone gathered around him to have a look.

His father then returned from ushering Penrose to the lifts and they all congratulated him on his nomination.

Ron stood there watching as his family was gathered in what could only be described as a happy celebration of these new events. He couldn't help but feel as if his whole life was being turned upside-down.

Everything was changing right before his eyes and for the first time in his life, he had no where to go. The only home he had ever known lay in ruins, destroyed by evil.

What little he did possess was gone. What remained was packed in his Hogwarts trunk. He couldn't even remember where he had left it.

He thought about Hermione. For what seemed like a brief moment he felt as if she wanted to be together but now, even that wasn't so clear.

He watched as Ginny and Dean came toward him. Ginny looked excited.

“Dad's going to accept the nomination!” She clapped and jumped as she spoke. Dean was grinning widely as he watched her.

Ron had been so absorbed in his thoughts he had barely heard a word she had said but his anger suddenly flared. He looked at Ginny darkly.

“Mind telling me what the bloody hell you're playing at?” He looked back and forth between the two of them.

Ginny's excitement evaporated instantly. A brief look of guilt flashed across her face for just an instant. She shifted her visage to one of indignation but it was too late. Ron had seen.

“What are you on about,” she asked tersely.

“You know damn well what this is about!” He again looked pointedly at Dean.

Dean shifted uncomfortably and started to retreat but Ginny grabbed his arm and held him fast. She gave Ron one of her deadliest blazing looks.

“I've told you more than once Ronald, what I do is none of your business,” Ginny said angrily through gritted teeth. With a flip of her long red hair, much like Fleur had done a moment before and spun around to go back to the others with Dean in tow.

Ron recoiled a moment, not sure he wanted to get involved in all of it but then Harry's face flashed across his mind.

The thought of telling him that Ginny had tossed him over for Dean was more than he was willing to take. He stepped forward, grabbed her arm and spun her round to face him. His face filled with rage.

“You made it my business when you started snogging my best mate,” he yelled, “or are you pretending that little tryst last year at school didn't happen. What am I supposed to tell Harry, Ginny? He's going to ask me about you, ya' know, where you're staying and all. He's going to want to see you. What am I supposed to say?”

He was breathing heavy now. His anger and frustration was growing beyond his ability to control. He glanced up and noticed everyone else had stopped talking and was staring at them with fixed expressions on their faces. Ron suddenly didn't care any longer.

His whole life was coming unraveled right before his eyes but he was not going to let Ginny hide behind them to keep from facing the truth.

Dean looked as if he was about to throw up. He was turning a bit green around the edges. Ron just wanted to punch his lights out.

Ginny gave Ron the most stubborn look she could manage. She couldn't believe what was happening but she wasn't all that surprised. She should have been a bit more open with Ron about this, she knew but it didn't occur to her to include him. She didn't know he would go off the deep end in the middle of St. Mungo's.

She had kept her relationship with Harry a secret from the rest of the family for a reason. If the war had gone badly it would have spared her all the unwanted condolences and attention. They treated her like a child enough already.

Now she would have to explain. It wasn't something she was looking forward to. It was complicated and she felt the only one she needed to explain anything to was Harry, which she planned on doing after Fred's funeral.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she glared at her brother, who didn't seem to understand anything.

“I plan to explain everything to Harry, Ronald but I haven't exactly had the opportunity now have I?” Her voice was dangerously calm, “You can tell him whatever you like for all I care.”

With that she turned and pulled Dean back toward the others who were now looking at her with surprised expressions on their faces.

As Ron stood there watching her go the weight of everything that was happening came crashing down on him. He felt dizzy and disoriented.

The walls of the Wizard hospital seemed to close in around him. He was struck with the urge to get out. He needed to leave that place before he was sick.

No one seemed to notice as he slipped silently passed them and made his way back to the first floor lobby.

The main corridors were still bustling with activity when he made is way to the front entrance lost in a fog of jumbled thoughts and emotions.

The pressing darkness encompassed him as he stepped through the plate glass store front of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. A cold, light mist was falling. It wasn't like rain. It was just enough to stick to everything.

He turned and walked absent-mindedly toward busy, crowded Muggle London. He was lost in the thought of what he was going to do. He had no money, he had no clothes or anything.

As he made his way forward with is hands shoved in his pockets, he suddenly heard girls giggling not far away. It brought him out of his reverie and he looked around for the source of the laughter.

Not far from him, standing in the shadows of some small trees that lined the busy Muggle street, he saw two women leaning against a high stone wall. They were looking pointedly at where Ron was standing.

Ron looked around him to see what they were staring at but he was quite alone on the deserted lane that ran in front of St. Mungo's entrance.

The girls shifted and started making their way toward him. He noticed they were dressed rather skimpily as they sauntered his way.

He could tell one was a bit younger than the other. The younger of the two wore some very tight jeans with a red halter top made of what looked like leather. She had blond hair that hung to the middle of her back. She was slender and very pretty but Ron thought the thick black eye makeup and bright red lipstick made her look a bit cheap.

The other woman was noticeably older the closer they approached. He could see wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and around her mouth. She also had blond hair but it was shoulder length and Ron could tell it used to be a different color. The roots at her head were almost black. She was smoking a cigarette and smiling at Ron rather suggestively.

This one was slender also and a bit taller than the younger woman. She wore a tight black mini skirt and a very tight white long sleeve blouse. It was unbuttoned so low that the top of her lacy black bra showed. She was very well…equipped.

They made their way over to Ron who just stood there gawking at the two women.

“Hello there,” the older woman said, “I'm Megan and this is Cassandra. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Ron smiled.

“Hi, I'm…”

Cassandra looked at Ron with wide eyes.

“You're Ron Weasley!” She said enthusiastically.

Ron leaned back a bit.

“You know who I am?”

Megan looked at him grinning then rolled her eyes.

“Love, everyone in the bloody Wizarding World knows who you are. You're one of the Trio that dispatched old moldy shorts.”

“You're witches then,” Ron inquired. He realized what a stupid question that was about a second too late, “Well of course you are. How daft of me, yes?”

“Well, Cassandra here is a pure blood but I'm afraid I'm just a pathetic little squib,” Megan pouted.

“Oh stop teasin' Megan,” Cassandra smiled a bit dreamily at Ron, “She's Muggle born an' just as much a witch as most everyone else. Where ya' headed to sweaty?”

Ron's thoughts drifted back down the lane to St. Mungo's. He thought of how happy his family seemed in the face of the death of his brother. He thought of Hermione and how she decided being somewhere else was more important than being with him. He looked at the two women smiling at him as if he was a very rare steak.

“No where at the moment.” He answered Cassandra honestly.

“Ya' know Cassie,” Megan swatted her younger friend on the arm with the back of her hand, “I'll bet we could get into all the great parties with this bloke. I'll bet there wouldn't be a door closed to us if we were to show up with one of the Golden Trio on are arms.”

Cassandra slipped her arm into Ron's and looked up in his face with a look of wonder. She snuggled close, pressing her body into his side.

“Whaddaya say love,” Cassandra cooed, “Wanna go to some parties with us?” She pressed her lips to Ron's ear, “I promise you won't be sorry,” she whispered.

Ron shuddered at Cassandra's warm breath on his ear. He looked down at her and his eyes were instantly drawn to the top of her halter. It was a lovely view.

Oh bugger!

“Yah, sure,” Ron said with a Cheshire grin, “I'd love to have fun with you ladies tonight.”

Megan sidled up to his other side and hooked his other arm.

“Let's go,” Megan said with a devious smirk, “I know a great place to start. We'll go to Darby Danforth's for starters. I know he's got a crowd tonight. Then we can crash the shindig at The Dancing Leprechaun.”

They turned toward the Muggle street and made their way off into the night.

-->

4. 4 - Chasing Answers

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A.N. As you can see things jump around for the first several chapters. Please be patient…there's a method to my madness…I promise! As always, thanks for reading and please review.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Four - Chasing Answers

When Harry next opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was there was no sunlight streaming in the windows. His old battered alarm clock he used at the Dursley's was still packed in his trunk.

The second thing he noticed was for the first time since he could remember, he had a restful, dreamless sleep.

Bless you Hermione!

Apparently she had known sleeping at Grimmuald Place would be much better for him than Hogwarts. He lay there marveling that the house seemed quiet as death and he would have continued to lay there but much to his dismay, Mother Nature was dictating otherwise.

He slipped on his glasses and made his way to the loo. He didn't bother to put on his trousers. He was the only one in the house…or so he thought.

As he stepped out into the hall, he turned and saw Kreacher coming up the stairs.

“Harry Potter sir,” the old elf croaked as he bowed low, “good to see you are finally awake. Kreacher was getting a bit worried.”

Harry stopped a bit self conscious about being caught in his boxers.

“Worried?”

“Yes! You have been sleeping for almost two days.”

Two days! Merlin's ghost! No wonder why my eyeballs feel like their floating!

“I guess I was more tired then I thought. If you'll excuse me Kreacher…”

Harry moved hastily toward the lavatory just as his stomach gave such a loud rumble it echoed around in the hallway.

Kreacher straightened up at once.

“Kreacher will make Harry Potter a good, hearty meal!”

“Thanks Kreacher. That's very kind of you.”

Kreacher turned to go to the kitchen. He waved a tiny hand.

“Kreacher is glad to do it. Harry Potter's mistress asked Kreacher to look after his Master.”

“Hang on, did you say Mistress?”

Kreacher turned and looked at Harry.

“Yes. It was Harry Potter's mud…I mean his Muggle Mistress, the one with the bushy hair. She asked Kreacher to look in on his Master. Kreacher is honored to do it.”

Figures…Doesn't miss a trick that one.

He couldn't help but smile.

“Very well, thanks Kreacher. I'll be down shortly.”

Kreacher bowed again as Harry finally went to relieve himself. After a much needed shower and a fresh set of hand-me-downs Harry appeared in the dungeon kitchen assaulted by the smells of fresh tea, bacon and maple syrup.

He found the morning edition of the Daily Prophet folded neatly next to his plate. He picked it up and perused the headlines as he annihilated three whole plates of food.

He read that Kingsley Shacklebolt had declined the Minister of Magic position and had decided instead to head up the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That didn't surprise Harry all that much after what he heard Kingsley say to Professor McGonagall. Besides, Kingsley was one of the best Aurors in the business.

He also discovered, much to his shock, Kingsley had nominated Arthur Weasley to the post of Minister and there was to be a special session of the Wizengamot to confirm the nominations. There were a few others in the running but Harry didn't recognize their names.

On the inside of the front page he saw the smiling face of Ron Weasley staring up at him with glassy eyes and what appeared to be a small metal pale on his head. The caption under the picture read;

Golden Boy - Life of the Party!

He had his arms draped around two very attractive witches as he waved sappily up at Harry from the page.

Harry was trying to figure what that was all about. He wondered where Ron had been.

Hoo boy! You better hope Hermione doesn't see this!

But as Harry sat there looking at the photo, he realized it was a stupid thing to think. Of course Hermione's going to see this. She always reads the Prophet.

“Yah, well…the golden boy is going to be more like the crispy sot once Hermione gets a hold of him!”

He couldn't help but chuckle but it also left him feeling a bit disturbed.

Harry wondered why Ron wasn't either with his family or helping Hermione get her parents back. Why was he cavorting about with strangers and getting his picture in the Prophet. That wasn't like Ron…

Then a memory struck him quite out of the blue.

…Yes, actually. It's exactly like Ron!

The chant Weasley is our King echoed from the depths of his memories. He recalled how Ron had acted after the Quidditch match when he thought he was under the influence of the Felix Felicis potion. It had all gone to his head rather quickly.

Ron was now a part of something much larger and more important. He was one third the Golden Trio. Part of the one's who'd dispatched the darkest sorcerer of all time. Just the thought of that made Harry ill but for Ron, he assumed, it was a chance for him to be in the spotlight…to shine very much on his own.

Harry couldn't help but wonder how this would affect Hermione. He knew she had feelings for Ronald Bilius Weasley but he also knew those feelings had been sorely tested in the past. He was almost afraid to find out the answer.

Ron had to know Hermione would find out. How could he do something like that to someone as wonderful as her? It made his blood boil a bit as he thought of it.

But as he laid the Prophet back on the table, he realized he had other things to attend to.

He wanted to see Ginny.

After breakfast, which turned out to be more like dinner because it was now 7:00 o' clock in the evening, Harry decided he was going to try to find Ron, attempt to knock some sense into him and find out where Ginny was staying.

He had no idea where that would be since they obviously had opted not to stay at #12. He figured the best place to start would be the shop in Diagon Alley.

Harry knew Fred and George had added a flat or two above the shop. That was where they stayed now or at least it was while the Death Eaters were running about the place.

Harry let Kreacher know he was leaving and Kreacher said he would return to Hogwarts and if Harry needed him to call. Harry thanked the wrinkled old elf profusely and he went to his room to gather his things.

As he made his way to the bedroom door, he noticed his invisibility cloak hanging out the corner of his trunk. He paused.

Voldemort is gone. The Death Eaters who survived are on the run. You don't need to hide any longer…do you?

The cloak had been like a security blanket for him for almost half his life. There was a time he had spent more hours under the cloak then not.

In three long strides across the room he snatched the cloak out of the trunk, folded it and tucked it in his shirt.

Old habits die hard I suppose.

He could hear Mad Eye Moody's voice in his mind.

Constant vigilance!

He made his way to the front entrance and let himself out on the front stoop. Harry knew the wards the Order of the Phoenix put on the place still held because of Kingsley, Mr. Weasley and McGonagall.

As he was about to step off the porch he noticed a rather large contingent of strangely dressed people milling about in the shadows of the park across the street. He knew them to be magic folk right away. Some held strange looking cameras while others held parchment and quills. Other small groups of younger people seemed to be lounging near by.

Are they waiting here for me? How could they even know about this place? Surely not!

As he stepped off the porch, he instantly heard a sound he recognized at once. It made his blood freeze as the unmistakable shriek of a Caterwauling Charm filled his head.

In the blink of an eye, he could hear the sounds of apparition all around him as the small front lawn was instantly covered with people. Those who were waiting across the street surged forward in a mad rush to get a spot.

“THERE HE IS!” Someone hollered.

“It's the Savior of the Wizard World,” someone else said.

“Blimey, I thought he'd be bigger,” a man shouted.

Before Harry could react to the crush of admirers, photo flashes were going off everywhere as people pushed all manner of Potter memorabilia in his face for him to sign. They were all pushing and shoving each other to get closer to him.

As he tried to step back onto the porch, he noticed a young woman standing a bit apart from the rest of the crushing throng. She was slender and pretty with long black hair. She was wearing a rather tight black tee shirt and jeans that rode low on her hips. She smiled at Harry when she saw he was looking at her.

She then reached down, grabbed the hem of her tee shirt and pulled the front of it up over her head. He blanched as he could see she was not wearing any under things. On her chest was painted a pair of glasses just like Harry's. They surrounded her ample breasts that were painted to look like two green eyes. Below the artwork were the words I love you Harry Potter painted in the same green color on her flat belly.

As Harry began to panic, he heard the sounds of more apparition as he tried to fish his invisibility cloak out from under his shirt.

Suddenly, people started to vanish. They scurried away as quickly as they had come. Harry looked out over the front lawn and began to see Aurors tunics everywhere. They were quietly herding the mass of people away back into the shadows of the park across the street.

Harry could then see the white robes of Oblivators as they moved among some of the neighbor's flats that surrounded #12.

He glanced over to see the girl had thankfully pulled her shirt back down and with a sad face, allowed the Auror to escort her back across the street. Harry couldn't help but give the girl a little wave. It was rather clever artwork after all.

She beamed and waved at him in return just before she disappeared.

A younger Auror who looked to be in his mid- twenties stepped up to Harry with a stern look on his face.

“I'm sorry about all this Mr. Potter,” he said, “things got a bit out of hand, didn't they?”

He stuck his hand in Harry's face and smiled.

“Twycross, Benjamin Twycross, at your service.”

Harry looked at the Auror a bit surprised.

“Twycross, I know that name…”

“I'm certain you do. Most witches and wizards do who've taken their apparition tests. That's my Grandfather.”

Harry smiled and took the young man's hand.

“Brilliant, but it's Harry…just Harry.”

“Very well just Harry. I suspect this isn't the end of it, I'm afraid,” Benjamin swept his arm around; “Folks have gone completely nutters since you dispatched You Know Who. Poor Oblivators are logging some serious overtime as a result. You'll want to watch yourself when you're out and about.”

“I suspect things will calm down in a few weeks or so but until then you're going to be a prime target for anyone with a camera or quill if you get what I'm saying.”

Harry did. It made his stomach grind his recently eaten breakfast/dinner into chutney.

“Thanks,” Harry said, “Can I go now?”

“Certainly,” Benjamin replied with a smile. He turned back toward the park.

Harry slipped his invisibility cloak over himself, turned and apparated to a spot just across the street from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron in Charring Cross.

Being a bit later in the evening, Harry hoped the street wouldn't be as crowded as it would mid-day but was surprised to find quite a few oddly dressed people milling about in front of the wizard pub.

He also noticed several Aurors standing near by as well. As he crossed the street he was hoping to be able to slip into the pub when someone came out.

He didn't have to wait long. A rather portly witch and her companion came teetering out the door just as he reached it. As Harry slipped through next to the staggering wizard, he looked back and noticed the Aurors were all over them, telling them to apparate immediately.

The Leakey Cauldron was busier then he had ever seen it. All manner of magical beings were celebrating the end of Lord Voldemort. A look toward the bar told Harry that Tom the barman had hired a couple of very attractive witches to assist him behind the bar and business was brisk.

The fire whisky, scathing scotch and volcanic vodka was flowing like water. He watched as a tiny witch tossed back a shot of the vodka. As soon as the drink went down she started vibrating like someone had picked her up and was shaking her. Everyone she was with started laughing uproariously.

It was almost impossible for Harry to make his way through the bar to the rear entrance to Diagon Alley without bumping into the revelers but he had managed to make his way to the far side of the room.

It took some time but he finally made the small alley behind the Leakey Cauldron that led to Diagon Alley. When he stepped out the door he noticed the passage way to the hidden wizard street was left open.

People came and went as he stood there waiting for a chance to slip through. When he was finally able to gain the entrance he noticed Aurors stationed here and there among the milling crowds.

Diagon Alley was alive again; the way Harry had remembered when he had first seen it. Many of the old shops had been re-opened and were doing a brisk business. Even though it was getting late, most every establishment was jammed with customers.

It amazed Harry how quickly those places had put themselves back together.

As he made his way towards Fred and George's shop he noticed the Ministry had opened an extension office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Auror's Division in a vacant store next to Ollivander's.

That explained the heavy Auror presence throughout the alley and in the pub but people seemed to pay them little mind as they went about their business. Aurors were trained to be inconspicuous.

He was thrilled to see the old wand maker was setting up shop once again. He could see workers milling about inside putting everything back in place. He told himself he would definitely have to stop in and say hello one day soon and show Ollivander his repaired wand.

Harry found himself standing in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as the crowd milled around him. The storefront was as garish as ever and it appeared to be the busiest place in Diagon Alley.

Harry saw his own face plastered on the large front window. His likeness had an un-naturally toothy grin as his visage gazed down at the crowd and waved stupidly at them. Under his picture was an announcement in blazing bright orange, blinking words;

Harry Potter's Hero Happy Packs!

Limited Supply

Get them while they last!

Harry groaned but then he couldn't help but laugh.

Leave it to George to capitalize on silly heroic notoriety…

Harry saw Lee Jordan standing at the side of the entrance trying to direct the surging shoppers as best he could.

“Sorry for the inconvenience folks but we'll try to serve each and every one. Please be patient…”

Harry worked his way next to Lee and leaned close. Harry didn't think anyone else could hear due to all the noise surrounding them.

“Lee, it's me Harry!”

Lee jumped a little when Harry spoke.

“Blimey Harry,” Lee tried to look nonchalant, “Didn't expect to see you here,” even though Lee couldn't see him.

He kept smiling at the customers filing into the shop.

“I don't think it would be wise to try and get in at the moment. If these folks knew you were here we'd have a stampeding riot on our hands!”

“Right,” Harry replied a bit darkly. He knew this kind of thing was going to get old very quickly.

“Hey, I've got it!” Lee said quickly, “Why don't you wait up in George's flat above the shop. He and Fred added a few flats after Diagon Alley got hit by Death Eaters. George's is number one. You can wait up there until we close the shop. The password to get in is Fizzing Wizbees. Take the stairs up the side of the building behind us.”

Lee pointed toward the stairs with a slight jerk of his head. Harry could see the set of steps going up the side of the building to a small covered landing.

“Alright then,” Harry replied, “You sure George won't mind?”

“'Course not mate,” Lee whispered, “I know George would love to see you. Oh, and Harry? ”

“Yah,” Harry looked back over his shoulder.

“I hope you don't mind us using…well…you know,” Lee pointed to Harry's picture on the front of the building.

“No, I don't mind,” Harry laughed, “As long as you haven't got me selling You No Poo.”

Lee smiled broadly but looked quite relieved.

With that Harry made his way up to flat number one. Once inside the hallway that led to the flats he pulled off his cloak. He recited the passwords Lee had given him and the door swung open.

The flat seemed large and spacious. There seemed to be boxes, bags and brightly wrapped packages on every level surface. He peered into one box that was labeled Tingling Truffles.

Harry had learned long ago not to touch anything that had to do with the joke shop. He recalled the time Hermione was holding what appeared to be an innocent looking telescope when, in a blast of bright light and a bang, it punched her in the face. Upon recalling that moment, he couldn't help but laugh. Hermione hadn't thought it was all that funny though. She had been rather annoyed.

He thought about where Hermione might be but was sure she would be with her parents. Surly they would be back from Australia by now.

As he milled about the flat, he could hear the crowds down below. It amazed Harry how quickly things had changed. It also amazed him how one evil person could affect so many other lives.

He passed the time waiting by trying to recount the events that had brought him to where he was and how he was going to deal with his unwanted notoriety. It made his stomach churn when he thought of being the center of all the madness.

How am I expected to live a normal life if I'm pursued by everyone in the bloody wizard world?

The thought of spending the next few months hiding under his invisibility cloak left him feeling depressed.

What was the point of dispatching Voldemort if nothing has changed?

Just as that thought occurred to him he listened to the crowd below. They were laughing and yelling happily, patting one-another on the back and wishing each other well going about their evening without fear…

Things have changed you moron! People aren't running for their lives and hiding…

He thought of what young Auror Twycross had told him at Grimmuald Place about things dieing down in a few weeks. Harry hoped he was right.

His thoughts slowly drifted to Ginny. His memory replayed that brief stolen moment at the Burrow on his last birthday. He recalled how he wanted that moment to last forever but then reality intruded to bring him crashing back into his life.

He thought about their time together at Hogwarts his sixth year. It seemed even then their entire short-lived relationship consisted of nothing more than stolen moments in time, each one more intense then the one before it. It was as if they were trying to fit a lifetime of experiences into those all too brief encounters.

It was as if Ginny had known. She had realized even before Harry did he would set her aside for her own protection. How could he not? He remembered how disappointed she seemed after Dumbledore's funeral.

He couldn't help but think of her quiet conversation with Dean Thomas at Hogwarts. He wondered what it meant.

Now that his life stretched out before him with a big question mark atop it, he didn't seem to feel the relief he expected. There were so many unanswered questions in his mind.

As he sat in the dark flat lost in reflection, he could hear the crowds thinning and the noise receding. He heard George and Lee thanking their customers and letting them know the shop would re-open promptly at nine a.m. in the morning.

Below him he could hear the sounds of happiness. It seemed to only bring him a small measure of comfort.

A bit later he heard them making their way up the stairs to the flats. The next thing Harry knew a small group of people was spilling through the door engrossed in a jumble of excited conversation.

With a flick of his wand, George set a multitude of candles around the flat ablaze while the others removed their Wizard Wheezes uniform cloaks.

Harry saw George and instantly noticed he looked quite normal with two ears! It was a complete shock. He also saw Lee Jordan as well as another brown-haired bloke and a rather pretty witch with short, spiky blond hair. They saw Harry and froze for a moment.

George was the only one other than Lee who seemed to know he was there. George smiled broadly.

“Greetings mate,” George said with enthusiasm as he crossed the room and took Harry in a bone-crushing hug.

Harry pointed at the side of his head with a look of shock on his face.

“Your ear?”

George grinned.

“You like it? Something new they've conjured up at St. Mungo's…” and he proceeded to fill Harry in on the process, “Lee and I did a little experiment on the ear and, well have a go at this,” George leaned down a bit, “tweak the earlobe.”

Harry looked puzzled for a moment, the others laughed.

“Excuse me?”

“Go on, give the earlobe a pinch!”

Harry reached up and gently pinched George's new ear on the lobe and the room was filled with the head-splitting sound of a ship's fog horn as a thick cloudy mist sprayed out everywhere. It was so loud it rattled everything in the flat and blew out two windows.

They all reached up to cover their ears as the sound died away and the smoke quickly dissipated.

George and Lee were laughing so hard they were red-faced. The others seemed as shocked as Harry was.

Lee quickly repaired the windows while George introduced Harry to the two newcomers.

He told Harry the brown haired young man was Benton Hornsby. George had brought him on to fill the empty space Fred had left and the young lady was Gretchen Huffnagle, she worked the register and restock.

Harry looked at Gretchen and noticed that, from the side view, she looked quite normal. She had a very slender figure and was quite attractively proportional but looking at her from the front or the rear she seemed quite a bit wider than a normal person. Harry thought while it did nothing to detract from her appearance; it was just a bit disconcerting and unexpected.

Gretchen, in return, regarded Harry with unveiled fascination and maybe even a bit of wanton desire. Her gaze seemed to ratchet the heat in the room up a degree or two. She moved to where Harry was sitting on the couch and plopped down unabashedly right next to him and held out a rather wide hand.

“'ello, I'm Gretchen,” she said with a pleasant smile and a rather breathless voice, “It's an honor to meet you.”

“Erm…thanks,” Harry stammered, “Likewise.”

Gretchen glanced at Lee and George then looked at Harry with a wink.

“Don't let these two nutters rattle you. They may come across as wankers but their both mostly harmless.”

Harry looked at her grinning broadly. He liked Gretchen at once. Besides, she smelled wonderful. He wondered if she had spilt love potion on herself or something because he was rather enjoying her sitting quite close to him and he had no idea why.

George leaned over to Harry and whispered in his ear that Gretchen thought there might be a bit of Troll in her family tree somewhere hence her unusual girth.

Harry had no idea if he was being serious or not. It was impossible to tell with George sometimes.

“You tosspot,” Gretchen punched George affectionately on the shoulder.

Benton Hornsby came up and shook Harry's hand as well. He and Gretchen seemed fascinated by Harry's presents and he politely answered their questions for a bit as they sat and made quiet conversation.

Harry looked around at all the boxes and packages and laughed.

“What is all this stuff?”

“New inventions mostly,” Lee replied proudly.

George moved over to a table and started rifling through a box.

“Come take a look Harry. We've got some really good ones just out of testing.”

Harry rather reluctantly got up and joined George and Lee at the table. He discovered Gretchen had laid her arm over the back of the couch and Harry had found himself almost sitting on her lap, with their bodies pressed together. He found the contact with her warm and pleasant. That surprised him. She gave him a smoldering smile as he looked back at her. Her effect on him was most Veela-like.

As Harry approached the table, George held up a box of what looked like mints they hand out at Muggle restaurants.

“Mutating Mints,” George said proudly, “We've fashioned them to be a bit like Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans. Pop one in your mouth and it's anyone's guess what you'll turn into. We've used mostly small animal transfiguration effects though. Don't want anyone getting injured. The effects only last about five minutes, just long enough to get a laugh.”

“Great at parties,” Lee added.

Gretchen literally jumped off the couch.

“Can I do one?” She asked enthusiastically.

Benton laughed loudly.

“Last time she did one she turned into a mouse. Alley cat got sight of her and chased her all the way to Knockturn Alley before she changed back!”

Gretchen gave Benton a scathing look.

“Ha bloody ha, Benton,” she said, “Glad you enjoyed it! Didn't do a thing to help did ya? What if that cat woulda' caught me. I'd a been kitty kibble for certain!”

“That cat jumped ten meters straight up in the air when you turned back,” Lee laughed, “Probably scarred the poor thing for life.”

“Used up at least four of its nine lives,” George added, “You had nothing to worry about Gretchen. There's a fail-safe built into the effect. Any threat and you'll instantly turn back. That was Lee's brilliant idea by the way.”

“Thank you George,” Lee bowed extravagantly.

Harry couldn't help but laugh along with them. This was exactly what he needed. He was very glad he decided to come to Diagon Alley.

Gretchen glided up to the table next to Harry and held out her hand. George dropped the small mint into her palm and she popped it into her mouth without hesitation. She looked at Harry and grinned.

“Here we go!” She juggled her eyebrows.

Suddenly she started to shrink and change, morphing into a small spider monkey. The monkey jumped up onto the table and began tearing around the room, squealing and shrieking. It jumped onto Benton's back and began pulling his hair.

“Gerroff!' Benton tried to reach behind him to grab the little primate but she leaped across and landed on Lee's shoulder. Lee reached for her but she was too fast. The monkey deposited some poo on his shoulder before it leaped to George's head.

When it landed, the monkey proceeded to hose the top of his head with monkey pee and then leaped into Harry's arms.

It looked up at Harry as if it were smiling at him then tore up his chest. It pulled his ear painfully hard, and then leaped from his shoulder to the back of the couch.

The monkey shrieked on final time looking at them before it started to mutate once again. As it grew in size it slipped off the back of the couch and landed with a thud out of sight.

Lee and George were busy scourgifieing themselves as Benton stood grumbling rubbing the back of his head.

Harry was laughing so hard he was crying. He saw Gretchen's hand appear on the back of the couch. She was laughing so hard she couldn't seem to stand up.

“That was more fun then a barrel of monkeys!” She quipped.

That made the rest of them crack up as well. George looked at Harry laughing.

“Want to have a go Harry?”

Harry held up his hands.

“Erm…not at the moment, thanks,” he said, “I think I get the picture though.”

He looked at another box and asked what was in that one.

“Oh ho,” George yelled, “You picked one of my very favorites. Flatulating Fudge.”

George looked at Benton and beckoned him closer with a finger.

“Oh, not again George,” Benton groaned, “I'm still feeling a bit peaky from the last time. What about Lee?”

Lee held up his hand.

“Oy, mate,” Lee exclaimed, “These are brand new trousers thank you very much!”

George beckoned again and Benton reluctantly moved forward and took the rather tasty looking piece of fudge in his had.

“There's a good lad,” George smiled, patting him on the shoulder, “this'll be the last time for a while, I promise.”

Gretchen had regained her equilibrium and came up behind Harry. She quite unexpectedly slipped an arm around his waist and nuzzled the back of his neck with her cute little nose.

“That was fun but it leaves you a bit disoriented for a moment. You should try it Harry.”

Harry smiled at her a bit dreamily but his attention was fixed on Benton as he took a bite of the fudge.

They all waited for a few moments as Benton stood there cringing with his eyes shut tightly in anticipation of something horrible.

George shot Lee a glance.

“You might want to move mate…”

Lee realized he was standing almost directly behind Benton. He realized it about one second too late.

“Bloody…,” was all Harry heard before there was a muffled explosion.

What happened next had Harry and Gretchen holding one-another upright because they were laughing so hard neither one could stand up on their own.

A bright blue flame shot three meters from Benton's back side. With it came a blob of sticky brown goo that splattered Lee from head to toe. The flame scorched the seat of Benton's trousers leaving a huge smoking hole.

Benton doubled over holding his stomach and Lee could only stand there wide-eyed and trembling.

“GREAT CSESAR'S GHOST,” Lee screamed, “Would one of you get this mess off me?”

George moved forward and cleaned Lee with a wave of his wand. The he turned and helped Benton put himself back together. When all was back to normal, Harry and Gretchen were still crumpled in a fit of laughter at the whole thing.

After they had managed to get control of themselves, they all moved into the sitting area and reclined. George passed cold Butterbeer all around and they fell into conversation.

Harry however was still chuckling.

“That was absolutely the funniest thing I've seen in ages.”

Benton looked perturbed. He sat stiffly with his arms tightly folded in front of him

“Humiliating is more appropriate.”

“Oh come off it Ben,” Gretchen laughed, “You know we've all done it. Besides, George would never ask you to do something he wouldn't have already tried himself.”

Benton didn't look mollified in the least.

“Fred perfected the Flatulating Fudge the day before we left for Hogwarts.” George said.

“I'm really sorry about Fred, George. You must miss him a great deal.”

George looked solemn for a moment as the others fell quite. He gave Harry a significant look.

“Yes, Harry I do,” he replied, “and I'll not have you blaming yourself for what happened either.”

Harry couldn't help but look down at his hands.

“Sorry mate,” he whispered, “bit late for that I'm afraid.”

“That's what I figured,” George said with a slight frown, “Listen. I'll tell you just like I told that gormless younger brother of mine. I'm not going to morn or mope about or feel sorry for myself. Fred died a hero and to do anything less then go on with our lives would be a complete disservice to his, and everyone else's, sacrifice. Get what I'm saying Harry?”

Harry nodded. George continued,

“And for you to sit there and blame yourself for any of what happened is utterly ridiculous.”

Everyone else nodded in agreement. Gretchen took Harry's hand in hers.

“Fact is we all owe you a debt of gratitude for having the courage to stand up to You Know Who,” she added.

Harry suddenly felt unsettled and more than a bit uncomfortable but he sat and tried to accept what they were saying with as much grace as he could.

These people were the closest thing to real friends he had and to become surly and argumentative over frivolous insecurities was pointless. Trying to make them understand he's had a prophecy wedged up his rectum since he was a carpet crawler was redundant and useless.

George was right. The best way to stick it to the Dark Lord was to move on and forget him all together. Let the memory of him fade into the dusty shelves of libraries. Harry knew it was something easier said than done but now was as good a time as any to start trying.

“So when is Fred's funeral?” He asked.

“Well,” George replied, “we thought it best to lay him to rest in a place we were happiest so the family decided the garden at the Burrow would be that place. It's not as if we'll use it for a garden any longer.”

“How sweet,” Gretchen said.

“Yah, I thought so too. The ceremony is set for tomorrow night at midnight if all goes as planned. Dad had to get the necessary permitting from the Ministry but with all of Percy's connections I'm sure that's done by now. Bill and Charlie are at the Burrow now getting everything ready I believe.”

“Why midnight,” Harry asked puzzled.

“It's the Witching Hour Harry,” Lee said with a gleam in his eye.

George smirked.

“While that's an appropriate reason enough, it's not precisely true. It's because Dora and Remus' service is going to be held tomorrow at six p.m. and we all want to attend theirs as well.”

Harry nodded. He knew tomorrow was going to be a difficult day. He remembered reading in the Daily Prophet that Colin Creevey's funeral service was going to be tomorrow as well at nine a.m.

He wondered if it had all been planed that way. It made sense to him. He had every intention of attending as many services as he could without causing unnecessary distractions. He tried to think how he was going to pull it off but he knew his Invisibility Cloak would once again play a major roll in his life.

Anonymity and Invisibility…

With all the Cloak and Dagger shite, minus the dagger of course, he was beginning to feel like a non-person again.

“So when does your father find out if he's been selected to the Ministry?” Gretchen asked.

“That's right,” Harry piped up, “I read in the Prophet Kingsley rejected the Minister's post and nominated your dad. I thought it might have been something they were making up. So it's true then?”

“Yah,” George sighed, “I'm afraid it is.”

“You don't seem all that thrilled about it George,” Benton remarked.

“To be honest, I'm not sure how I really feel about it. Maybe it's good the Weasley family is finally getting the recognition it deserves after all these years.”

“But you don't feel that way?” Benton was a bit confused. He was a pure blood wizard like George. Harry guessed he expected George to have the same allegiance to the Ministry as many others.

“Look at the last three Ministers,” Lee added, “They weren't exactly up to scratch now were they. Fudge totally abused his power in office, Scrimgeour was completely ineffective and Thicknesse was under the Imperius curse. Not a stellar track record to say the least. George's father is going to be inheriting an office that doesn't carry a lot of respect with it.”

“If anyone can bring integrity back to the Ministry, that's Mr. Weasley,” Harry said tersely, “He's the best.”

“Harry's spot on George,” Gretchen grinned at Harry.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” George smiled, “He'll be pleased he's got your endorsement. I'm sure he's considering it anyway. I know Mum is behind him and Ginny is absolutely barmy about the possibility of living in the Minister's Mansion.”

“What does Ron thinks about it all?” Harry was wondering where he was.

“Haven't seen him,” George said with a shrug, “Lee, didn't you say you saw him here yesterday?”

Lee had gotten up to fetch another round of Butterbeer.

“Yah, he was leaving when I was coming up to get some supplies. Said he was just in to get a quick shower and a change then he was off again...had two rather striking-looking witches with him. They were hanging all over the bloke. One looked to be quite a bit older then him anyway.”

“Where's he staying?” Harry queried.

George frowned.

“He's supposed to be staying here but that's the first anyone of us had seen of him. If half the stories in the Prophet are true then he better stay on the lamb. If mum gets her hands on him, ooh boy!”

He didn't have to finish that statement for them to understand what he meant.

“With your dad being up for the Minister's post and all…” Gretchen chuckled, “yah, I'd say he's neck-deep in stink sap!”

They laughed. Harry wasn't sure how to ask the next question. He wasn't sure how much George or Lee knew about his time spent with Ginny. They had already left Hogwarts before he and Ginny started seeing one another.

“Erm…George, where is Ginny staying?”

“Oh, she's staying at Shell Cottage with mum. Dad's in and out at Aunt Muriel's for the time being. I think Percy still has his flat in London but it's so small you can bump your head if you turn about too quickly.”

“I suspect Charlie will go back to Romania after the service. Personally I wish he would stick around a bit longer but, oh well.”

“If dad gets the top spot, I don't think they're going to rebuild the Burrow. Ron really didn't like that idea but you can see their point I suppose.”

“The only one left at home now will be Ginny, but even she will be flying to coup after next year. The way she was carrying on with Dean Thomas the other night at St. Mungo's, it might be sooner rather than later…”

That revelation made Harry stop dead in his tracks. His mind immediately flashed to the memory of Ginny and Dean in conversation at Hogwarts. His first reaction to George's statement was to ask for more details but something inside prevented him. He wasn't sure if it was insecurity or simply the fact he was afraid of the response.

The obvious questions swirled around in his head. He sat frozen in place next to Gretchen on the sofa. Luckily she was absorbed in the conversation with the others and didn't seem to notice how Harry had stiffened with fear and dread. He suddenly felt uncomfortably disconnected from the others around him.

Has Ginny changed her mind about us? Is Dean putting pressure on her to get back together?

He sat for a moment as reasons and possible explanations swirled in his head but he decided to push it all to the back of his mind.

Face it Potter. You won't know the truth until you talk to Ginny face to face. She's the only one who can tell you. Don't jump to conclusions…

He physically relaxed as he came to those conclusions but his insides still squirmed uncomfortably. He glanced up at a strange-looking Cuckoo clock hanging over the fire place and saw that it was ten thirty. He stood abruptly.

“Well, I think I should be heading home…” Harry made his way toward the door amid protest and requests for him to stay but he barely heard them. It was Gretchen who followed him to the door and placed a hand gently on his shoulder as he grabbed the doorknob.

“You don't have to leave so soon, do you?”

Harry looked at her eyes. She appeared genuinely sad that he was leaving. The strange effect she had on him all evening almost made him change his mind as he stood there in close proximity to her but the thought of Ginny seemed to drown everything else out. He searched his jumbled thoughts for an excuse.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I've got to get up early. I'm expected at quite a few funeral services tomorrow so I really should be getting home.”

Gretchen looked at him with affected sadness, pouting with her bottom lip out.

“All right then,” she sighed, as she turned away. She suddenly stopped, turned back toward Harry, grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him round and planted a heart-stopping French kiss on his unsuspecting mouth. It lasted for well over a minute and she pressed her body firmly against his while she kissed him senseless.

When Gretchen finally released him, Harry looked as if he had been hit with several bludgers to the head. His body instantly reacted to the smoldering kiss in ways he had never known before. Parts of him became very aroused but the rest of him was mortified.

“Erm…wow!” Harry said with a stupid looking smile on his face.

Gretchen gave him a steamy look as she retreated back into the flat.

“You can come see me anytime Harry. I'm in flat number three if you're so inclined.”

“Fla…three…yah,” Harry mumbled as he stumbled his way out the door. He could hear Gretchen giggling as the door closed.

As soon as he was alone in the hallway his self control returned. He stood in wonder at the power she had over him when she was close. It made him a bit nervous but it wasn't uncomfortable or threatening in any way. He thought it was kind of…well, nice! He couldn't help but think of how her body felt pressed firmly against his. He shuddered.

Merlin's ghost...focus Harry! You're acting like a swotty little teenager…

The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like a bossy witch he knew very well. That thought was enough to snap him back to complete sobriety. He made his way out of the flats and down the stairs. When he reached the ground he spun and disappeared into the night.

He decided to apparate into the space behind the building where #12 was located It was the first time he had seen it. It was a single lane alley and was surprised to find it quite a bit cleaner than he had anticipated. He was expecting the worst.

As soon as he appeared he donned his invisibility cloak just to be safe. No crazy alarms or stripping fan-girls or crushing mobs met him which helped him relax a bit but he noticed there were several Aurors placed in strategic locations the length of the narrow lane.

At that point he had no idea how he was going to get into the house. He figured the best way was to go around to the front and go in the usual way. No sense in making a fuss trying to get in a rear entrance he didn't even know existed.

He passed a few of the unsuspecting Aurors as he made his way to the front. He spotted Benjamin Twycross and almost went over to say hello but thought better of it when he turned the corner of the building.

He spotted two Muggle police foot patrolman standing under a streetlamp across from his front entrance. He knew they couldn't see #12 but it made him leery all the same. Some of his Muggle neighbors must have called the authorities and complained before the Oblivators could get to them.

How can anyone blame them! All those nutters running about the place…

As he made his way inside of the house, he instantly saw a tall man at the end of the hall bent over a small table. Harry saw the feather of a quill twitching as he wrote quickly on a small piece of parchment.

Harry's first reaction was to go for his wand but he instantly recognized the shiny bald brown head of Kingsley Shacklebolt and knew he was quite safe.

When Kingsley heard the front door he turned at once and saw Harry step into the foyer. Kingsley greeted Harry with a wide, friendly smile.

“Ah, you caught me,” Kingsley said in his deep, rumbling voice, “I was just leaving you a note.”

Kingsley laid the quill on the table and met Harry half way down the hall. Instead of taking Harry's hand in a manly handshake Kingsley pulled Harry into what could only be described as a rather fatherly embrace. That took Harry a bit by surprise. Kingsley stepped back and looked at Harry in the eyes.

“Good to see you again my boy,” he smiled, “Sorry for such a late intrusion but my days, of late, have been filled with meetings and interviews and all manner of Ministry business.”

“That's fine sir,” Harry smiled in return, “I understand…”

“I'm glad you do,” Kingsley laughed, “Mrs. Shacklebolt is quite annoyed with me right now. Tells me she's beginning to think she married one of the Hogwarts ghosts.”

Harry laughed, “Not good that. I'm just a bit surprised to see you, sir.”

“Actually, I'm here for two reasons Harry,” Kingsley's face went serious; “Do you feel up to having a chat at this ridiculously late hour?”

“Sure, sir,” Harry responded curiously. Harry had slept for two whole days so he wasn't tired in the least. He gestured into the sitting room. As they moved inside Harry sat on the sofa and Kingsley took one of the over-stuffed arm chairs next to the fireplace. The older man turned the chair so they were facing one-another. Kingsley began…

“I'm glad you agreed. Quite frankly, with my schedule it could be weeks before I have a chance to meet with you again so I shall get right to the point.”

“The first reason I came is to update the Fidelius Charm on this house. Once I received the reports of the incident here earlier today I thought it wise to help strengthen the wards and protection on this place. I believe it would be only a matter of time until someone figured out how to get past them.”

“Unfortunately, Harry you are a much sought-after commodity at present…but I'm sure you are more than aware of that fact.”

Harry nodded with a sigh.

“I'm sure you'll agree extra protection would be advantageous.”

“Yes sir,” Harry answered, “I appreciate that.”

“Very well,” Kingsley continued, “Once we have concluded discussing the other reason for my visit we shall do just that.” Kingsley shifted in his seat.

“I'm wondering Harry if you have given your future any thought since that night at Hogwarts?”

Before Harry could respond, the older man seemed to answer the question for him.

“I realize there hasn't been much time for you to think of such things but I would like to offer you…” Kingsley paused thoughtfully, “an option.”

“As you may know, I have decided not to accept the Ministers post and have opted instead to head up the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Harry smiled. It didn't surprise him after what he had heard Kingsley tell McGonagall in the Great Hall the other day. Kingsley went on.

“Just between you and I Harry, to me the Minister for Magic is nothing more than a glorified figure-head in many cases. Don't misunderstand, the position carries with it a great responsibility but it is also constricted and controlled by the limits of executive power, or at least it should be. I think Cornelius Fudge forgot those limitations often during his tenure. He seemed to believe he was exempt from Wizengamot oversight.”

“I simply believe with my background and experience my expertise lies in a different direction.”

“However, I have found that as a result of past administrations and the Death Eater occupation of the Ministry, the Auror's Department as well as some of the others that fall under the jurisdiction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Kingsley's face darkened slightly, “things are in complete and utter chaos at the moment.”

Harry sat and though about what kind of havoc the Death Eaters wrought on Hogwarts. He could imagine the mess they made of the Ministry.

“I'm not surprised sir,” Harry responded solemnly, “So do you think Mr. Weasley will get the Minister's job?”

Kingsley gave Harry a significant look.

“I'd be willing to bet my wand arm on it Harry.” He grinned, “While I realize Arthur is going to be inheriting an absolute mess of an administration I am confident he will surround himself with competent people and bring back to the Ministry what it is lacking most.”

“What's that sir,” Harry asked. He thought he knew the answer but he didn't want to appear presumptuous.

“Honesty and integrity Harry,” the old Auror replied.

“So what does this have to do with me, sir if you don't mind my asking?”

“Yes,” Kinsley responded, “I suppose I got a bit sidetracked there, sorry.”

Harry held up his hand as if to tell him it was no problem.

“I have decided to restructure the entire Auror department Harry and use some ideas that I witnessed while protecting the Muggle Prime Minister.”

Harry remembered seeing Kingsley in the background on the Muggle television guarding the Prime Minister.

“I had the opportunity to see how the Muggle Law Enforcement departments were structured and operated. They were quite efficient and superior to our system in both response and tactical maneuvers in the field. I think it would benefit us to implement some of those operations in our departments.”

“Their chain of command was top notch and information flowed smoothly and effortlessly across the entire system. The entire department could be brought up to speed within moments of a response to a disaster or an attack.”

Kingsley leaned forward in his chair toward Harry.

“That's what I want for the Auror's Department and I think you could be a significant part of that operation Harry.”

Harry's eyebrows all but disappeared. His first reaction was shock at the fact that Kingsley thought he could be a viable part of his plans. He couldn't see how but he figured he was going to find out shortly so he kept his reservations to himself.

“Instead of having individual Aurors running about with little or no for warning of an attack or disaster, as it was with this last nightmare with Voldemort, my idea is to create teams of highly trained and skilled Aurors and Hit Wizards to respond in an organized and synchronized fashion.”

“These teams would be so well trained they will know instinctively how to take down a threat using official tactical maneuvers that are practiced and perfected. Each teams members would be permanently placed so they will know each-others moves and personalities. I would like you, Harry to seriously consider being on one of these teams.”

Harry sat contemplating this for a moment. Part of him instantly reacted negatively to the suggestion. He had had what seemed like a lifetime full of dealing with the darker elements of the wizard world.

He wasn't certain he wanted to make it a career choice but another side of him couldn't help but get caught up in the enthusiasm in Kingsley's voice. The thought of taking down the remaining Death Eaters that were still at large and being at the for front of a crack operation sounded quite exciting.

Even though, he could hear Hermione's voice echoing in his head…

Oh Harry, I can't believe you're even considering such a ridiculous idea. You know you're just mollifying that `saving people' thing I said you suffered from…

He groaned internally. Kingsley saw that Harry was struggling with the decision so he tried to alleviate his concern.

“If it's all the same Harry, I would rather you not respond at this time. I would really appreciate it if you would give it some thought and serious consideration.”

“I think you are a powerful wizard and I believe you would fit perfectly into this system and flourish, however having said that I want only those who are committed to this idea one hundred percent. I don't want anyone to go into this program half-heartedly. Not only will it put you at risk but it could compromise the entire team.”

“A chain is only as strong as its weakest link but I truly believe with your talent and skill you would be more than up to the challenge.”

“At present, it's going to take a few weeks to get the mess cleaned up at the Ministry and a bit more time to sell the idea to the Minister and the Wizengamot. After all, they may not go for it at all so this conversation might be pointless but I'm going to push hard for these changes. I think they are important and needed to bring some organization to our Enforcement Division. What do you think, Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath and decided to answer Kingsley honestly.

“Sir, I really appreciate your confidence in me. It means a great deal but I'm going to be perfectly honest and tell you my first reaction was to say no thanks…”

Harry looked at Kingsley to gauge his reaction. The old Auror only looked at him thoughtfully.

Harry couldn't help but recall how Rufus Scrimgeour had wanted him to be nothing more than the Ministry's Poster Child of Righteous Superiority but then did nothing to assist them in the fight until it was too late. He felt the Ministry's lack of concern was partially responsible for his Godfather Sirius' death. That had left a very bad taste in his mouth and he wasn't sure he had shaken off that stigmatism yet. Some of his wounds left scars under the surface no-one could see.

“You must understand I've been walking around with a bloody target on my back since I was eleven years old. There is a part of me that says, “You've done what everyone expected you to do and you managed to survive in the process. Enough is enough…”

Kingsley started to respond to what Harry had said but Harry cut across him.

“Mr. Shacklebolt, sir. I mean no disrespect but please let me finish.”

Kingsley nodded. Harry looked down at his hands a bit ashamed for the way he was talking to this man who was so much older and wiser than him but he felt compelled by his own self-righteous sacrifices. Being the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World should afford him a little authority even though it made him very uncomfortable to think that way.

“I have spent the last seven years just trying to survive and keep the people I care about alive so I didn't have to watch them be destroyed because of me, having said that I've found I've become pretty good at not getting killed. I'm not convinced it's because I'm some great wizard or anything like that. I think it had more to do with luck and my friends.”

“Without the sacrifices Hermione Granger made to stand by my side and my friendship with Ron Weasley as well as so many others I would have never succeeded in any of this. I would have been dead five years ago.”

Harry sat looking off into the void of his memories as many of the things he had gone through flashed across the back of his eyes. It all just made him feel weary.

“But as I sit here and think about what my future might hold for me I can't think of anything else I might be suited for except maybe Quidditch but I'm not sure I'm good enough to make a professional team.”

“My whole life since I boarded the Hogwarts Express that first time has been in preparation to take Voldemort down. I didn't know it then but that's exactly what Professor Dumbledore was doing in his own, strange way.”

“His brother Aberforth told me once that he thought Dumbledore was tossing me right into the mouth of the dragon. You know, in a way, he was right. I didn't see it that way, of course. I was Dumbledore's man through and through, still am I suppose.”

“I guess what I'm trying to tell you is…if I have the ability to prevent people from getting killed by those who choose to practice dark magic then I guess it's my responsibility to try. I've had a lot of practice recently.” Harry smiled.

“But I'm not going to make any promises just yet. I would like to talk it over with some of my friends first to see what they think.”

He knew what Hermione and possibly Ron would say but he felt compelled to ask them anyway. They were the only ones left he had to confide in and Hermione's opinion mattered to him more than any other.

Even though he knew her initial reaction would be one of frustration and anger, she would eventually offer him sound advice in the end. It was simply the way Hermione worked. You sometimes had to endure a lecture in order to benefit from her wisdom. That was just the price you paid but to Harry, most times it was worth it.

“I understand completely Harry,” Kingsley nodded, “I would expect nothing less and even though I might be loosing a highly qualified candidate for my team, you need to seriously take into consideration what your friends tell you. That's all I'll say about that. All I ask is that you give this some fair consideration.”

Harry nodded his agreement as Kingsley rose to his feet.

“Very well then, I think we can set to strengthening the wards on this house.”

Harry and Kingsley revamped most of the wards as well as updated the Fidelius Charm and made it possible for only three people to apparate into and out of the house. Harry himself, Hermione and Ron. They restricted the flue to let only those three in and everyone else would have to seek permission prior to entry.

They also modified the anti-appartion ward to include a rebounding spell. If anyone unauthorized tried to apparate inside #12 they would be bounced to a random location kilometers away from Grimmuald Place. Harry loved the idea and thought that quite funny. Kingsley said it was even funnier to see.

Once their work was concluded Kinsley gave Harry another warm embrace, bid Harry a goodnight and was about to let himself out when something occurred to Harry.

“Mr. Shacklebolt, sir?”

Shacklebolt looked up, “Yes Harry?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

“Certainly Harry,” Kingsley smiled, “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to attend the funeral services of Colin Creevey, Dora and Remus as well as Fred's at midnight but I'm fairly certain my presence would be a major distraction for the families. Would it be possible for you to provide a bit of security so there won't be any interruptions because of me? I know it's a lot to ask but I would really like to pay my last respects and say goodbye. I owe them that sir.”

Kingsley didn't flinch or hesitate in his response.

“Absolutely Harry,” Kingsley said with a sad smile, “We had planned on providing security at the Tonks service as well as the Weasley's simply due to the fact that Arthur is now a candidate so it's Ministry regulations to provide him protection, however I will be more than glad to do the same for the Creevey family. When and where is their service to be held?”

“The Prophet said the service starts at 9:30 a.m. and is to be held at the family plot in Crossbones*.”

“Ah,” Kingsley said, “Crossbones, down off Borough High Street. Know the place well. Many a wizard family has been laid to rest there over the years. It used to be a Muggle pauper's burial place but has since been abandoned. We still use it though. Some Muggles think it's haunted which makes it perfect for us. Not to worry Harry, we'll be there in force.”

“Thanks sir,” he watched as Kingsley stepped out onto the front porch, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight Harry.” Kingsley closed the door.

As Harry stood in the silent foyer thinking about all he had said to Kingsley. He decided to turn in.

Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day.

*Crossbones Cemetery is a real place in London!

-->

5. 5 - Down Under

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Five - Down Under

After a rather restless night filled with odd dreams and images Hermione had no compunction to analyze or think about, she made her way through the lavatory, dressed and headed to the Great Hall hoping to pick up a spot of breakfast before she went to see the Headmistress.

The castle was already a flurry of activity. As she made her way from the Gryffindor tower, she found herself accosted by almost everyone she encountered. They wanted to congratulate her or have a photograph taken with them or just simply be able to say they had met one of the Golden Trio, as the Prophet had penned them.

By the time she made the Great Hall, her mood had decidedly taken a turn for the worse.

The two burly Aurors she had met the night before waved at her wildly. She managed a rather weak smile and wave as she made her way to the Gryffindor table and sat with a huff in the most deserted spot she could find.

She had just enough time for a small stack of blueberry flapjacks and a few gulps of pumpkin juice before the house tables were expediently swept from the room.

As she looked around searching the crowd for someone she recognized, she spotted Professor Grubbly-Plank coming in from a hallway. Hermione made her way over.

“Excuse me, Professor.”

The old part time Care of Magical Creatures instructor smiled at Hermione warmly.

“Yes, my dear,” she asked, “What may I do for you this bright and wonderful morning?”

“I was wondering if you've seen Headmistress McGonagall.”

“Why yes dear. I believe I spotted her coming from the Slytherin dungeon just a moment ago.”

“Do you know where she might have been heading?”

“I'm quite certain she mentioned something about returning to her office…”

Hermione smiled.

“Thank you professor,” she said as she dashed up the stairs to find her way to the Headmistresses hallway on the seventh floor.

She was able to bypass many of the volunteers by taking a few of the shortcuts she knew about. Being friends with Harry, who had made it a habit of exploring the castle at night and what she had learned from Fred and George gave her access to secret passages most didn't know about.

As she made her way along, she wondered about Ron and where he was. She wondered where he would be staying. Perhaps he would go to #12.

That would be good. Harry would like that…

Part of her wanted to find him and explain her hasty departure of the night before but she was painfully aware, much to her consternation, that she had much more pressing matters to attend to.

Her mind drifted to Harry for a moment. She wanted to check on him as well but it seemed time would not allow it. She had to be confident Kreacher would keep his word or the Weasley's would decide to stay with him.

You need to focus on the task at hand…Get your parents back!

Hermione knew she had a long day ahead of her.

As she turned the corner from the stairs, she spotted the now-mended gargoyle sitting quite stoically on its haunches.

She approached it realizing she once again had no idea what the password was.

Bugger!

She stood for a moment trying to think of a way she could get a word to the Headmistress.

She looked beseechingly at the stone figure.

“Um…hi, do you remember me?”

The gargoyle eyed her wearily,

“Of course I remember you! You fink I'm an empty-headed suit of armor?”

“Erm…right,” Hermione grimaced, “Then you'll also remember it was me who mended you last night…”

“Remember that too,” the gargoyle growled then his intimidating features split in a wide mischievous grin, “Don't `ave the password, do ya?”

“No,” Hermione pleaded, “but I really need to speak with the Headmistress on a matter of the utmost importance…please!”

The gargoyle seemed to snap to attention.

“No password…no entrance!”

Hermione's ire was returning with renewed vigor.

“But…”

The gargoyle didn't budge an inch.

“You of all people should know the rules!”

“Oh parrot poo!” Hermione stomped her foot in frustration.

Just then she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She flinched.

“I would consider it a personal favor if you would not take your frustrations out on the security staff, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said with lips pursed, “He is merely performing his duty.”

The Headmistress stepped around Hermione and faced the gargoyle.

“Knowledge First,” she said clearly. The gargoyle leapt aside and the wall split to reveal the rotating stairs. McGonagall turned back to look at Hermione over her tiny spectacles.

“And do tell me…what does parrot poo have to do with anything?”

Hermione blushed to her roots. McGonagall held her arm out to direct Hermione forward. As she made her way to the stairs, the gargoyle chuckled at her quietly.

Hermione glanced at it, giving the statue her most haughty glare.

“Should have left you in pieces,” she mumbled.

The gargoyle waggled its tongue at her and sneered.

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as her hand twitched toward her wand.

Just one well placed reducto…

McGonagall rolled her eyes and followed Hermione up to the office.

As they entered, McGonagall made her way around to sit behind her desk. She motioned to Hermione to sit in one of the chairs in front.

Hermione noticed that most all the portraits of the past Headmasters were snoozing…or pretending to be. Dumbledore's was empty.

“Now,” McGonagall inquired, folding her hands on the desk, “what can I do for you Miss Granger?”

“I realize you're terribly busy with the repair to the school and everything but I was wondering if you could find a moment to help me retrieve my parents…” Hermione asked beseechingly.

The Headmistresses eyes grew wide with sudden understanding.

“Oh, for Marlin's sake Ms. Granger,” McGonagall apologized, “that arrangement has completely slipped my mind. Do forgive me!”

Before Hermione could respond, McGonagall was on her feet. She walked over to one of the portraits.

“Everard!” She snapped her fingers and the grizzled old man's head popped up and his eyes sprang open.

“Yes…yes,” he stammered, “Everard at your service m' lady!”

“I need you to visit your frame at the Ministry. Please ask acting Minister Shacklebolt I need to see him at once. It is a matter of the utmost importance.”

Everard nodded fervently and exited his painting to the left.

McGonagall cast an apologetic glance at Hermione as she made her way back to her desk and sat down.

“I'm afraid I've been so busy with reparations to the school I have had little time to consider anything else.”

“I completely understand Headmistress,” Hermione assured her, “I wouldn't bother you with this at the moment if I wasn't so desperate to have them back home safely.”

McGonagall gave Hermione a grimace.

“While I appreciate you're conciliation, Ms. Granger forgetfulness is no excuse for the dereliction of one's duty.”

The Headmistress folded her hands beneath her pointed chin and peered at Hermione for a moment.

“While we are waiting for Mr. Shacklebolt, I wonder if I might enquire as to what your plans are for the near future. I realize the past few months have been a whirlwind of events for you however…”

McGonagall paused for a breath. Her naturally stern visage softened somewhat as she appraised her most promising pupil.

“I must admit I have taken a rather…personal interest in your endeavors since you've come to Hogwarts.”

“I have seen many students come and go through these halls in the past fifty years and I can tell you without reservation, young lady that you are one of the most brilliant young minds I have ever had the privilege to teach.”

Hermione looked as if she was about to cry. McGonagall continued before she could say anything in response.

“Having said that, I would very much like you to consider returning in the fall to complete your studies. I realize you may feel Hogwarts has nothing further to teach you in the realm of magic and, truth be told there is little in the way of magical theory and application you do not already know.”

McGonagall smiled. Hermione wanted to melt right through the bottom of the chair she was sitting on.

“The fact is, Ms. Granger there is much more to life than books, spells and Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration. I cannot impress upon you enough the importance in completing your N.E.W.T. level finals. I only wish for you to have the best possible start toward what I am sure will be a bright future.”

The truth was Hermione had not had much of a chance to think about her future. It seemed the task of keeping her boys alive as well as herself had been all-consuming.

Now that she found herself sitting in front of the one person she strove to impress more than any other, the thought of returning to Hogwarts felt…redundant.

She certainly didn't want to convey that message to her mentor so she decided to come down firmly on the side of waffling but she was spared the indignation when Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped though the fireplace of the Headmistresses office.

He shook soot and ash from his cloak.

“I'm sorry for the delay Minerva. I came as quickly as I could.”

“Nonsense Kingsley,” McGonagall said as she rose from her chair, “I realize you're busy but I'm afraid this matter is most important and cannot wait.”

The Headmistress quickly explained to him about Hermione's parents. Since Kingsley was not Minister when they sent her parents into hiding, he knew little of the details on how it was accomplished. He had been assigned to guard the Muggle Prime Minister during that time. She then recommended Kingsley be allowed within the restrictions of the Fidelius charm because he would be integral to the success of their mission. Hermione agreed without question.

It had taken some very extensive spell work to completely remove any recollection of their previous lives and only four people knew their whereabouts, Hermione, McGonagall and two Aurors who had been assigned to them for security. They were protected by a very powerful Fidelius charm.

It was an ingenious bit of spellwork to create the modified Fidelius. If any attempt was made by anyone under the Fidelius umbrella to reveal the whereabouts of the Grangers, not only would that person suffer complete loss of motor functions but their wand would automatically send a patronus to all the other members of the Fidelius immediately. The spell was Hermione's own invention and everyone involved was quite impressed.

As it was, it took a whole host of Oblivatiors and Order of the Phoenix members to suspend her parent's dental practice for the duration. Hermione knew a detailed list of her mother and father's clients and patients was created and placed in secret in the Minister's office under lock and key. Since it was written in the runic language, Hermione and McGonagall were the only two who could decipher it. They would be required to retrieve the list and try to restore the memories of all those people once the Grangers were back in place.

It was going to be a daunting task but Hermione was eager to proceed. She was relieved to see that McGonagall seemed to understand.

“…so once we have returned with the Grangers from where they are hidden it will be imperative we act as quickly as possible.”

McGonagall made her way over to a tall, glass fronted cabinet, opened one of the curved doors and reached deep in the back to retrieve two tall, thin glass vials. They were both filled with a bright blue swirling gaseous mist.

Hermione stared at them for a moment.

My parent's whole lives are in there.

It was as if McGonagall could read her thoughts. She pulled her wand out and with a flourish; the two delicate looking vials were encased in a thickly padded metal box. She gave Hermione a knowing smile.

“We certainly don't want any accidents with your parent's memories.”

She handed the case to Kingsley.

“I think it would be prudent to have two of the best Oblivators ready and I don't think it would hurt to have a few Aurors in attendance for security as well. I'll call when I require them.”

Kingsley nodded.

“Very well then, I'll have everything ready upon your return,” he looked at the case and then at Hermione. He could see the look of concern in her eye, “Not to worry Miss Granger, we'll take every precaution to make sure your parents are retuned to their lives with as little interruption as possible but you must understand this is going to be an extremely difficult task.”

“Returning someone's memories seamlessly is a very tricky business even after a few days. We're attempting to restore your mother and father's memories after almost a year.”

Hermione could tell that even McGonagall looked worried.

They had told her when she decided to do this back then this was not something they would have recommended. Too many variables and too many things could go wrong over such a long period of time but since Hermione had no idea how long it would take them to find the Horcruxes or how long it would take them to dispatch Voldemort, if they even could, she had decided it was worth the risk.

Her reasoning was that if the war turned out badly, at least her parents would be very far removed from it all, relatively safe and blissfully unaware.

McGonagall reminded Kingsley before he left to send word to the Auror guarding the Grangers they were coming.

Kingsley returned to the Ministry to put the operation in motion. They would be waiting for Hermione and McGonagall at St. Mungo's.

So with their plans in place and Hermione's parents memories safely in the hands of one of the best Aurors in the Ministry, she and McGonagall set off for Perth, Australia.

They were instructed to meet the assigned Auror at the Australian Ministry of Magic office. They were told they would find the entrance at the corners of Howard St. and The Esplanade.

They discovered the entrance was what appeared to be a boarded up restaurant that was once named The Laughing Kookaburra.

McGonagall picked up the receiver of an old pay phone outside the front entrance. At once a voice crackled over the handset.

“State ya' business please?”

“Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger to see the Ministry Auror from the London office…I believe our Minister contacted you of our arrival?”

“Yes, miss,” the voice answered, “If you'll kindly step through the front entrance door to your right…”

“Thank you,” McGonagall returned the handset and they stepped right through the boarded up door.

When they entered, they found themselves standing in a reception area not much larger than a closet. The receptionist sat behind a small desk toward the back of the cramped space.

He was about four feet tall with dark skin. He was naked except for a loin cloth. He was covered head to foot in white painted stripes. He had a wild mane of black hair that was tied up in tufts about his head and, to Hermione's shock, what appeared to be a bone sticking through his nose.

He stood and greeted them with a pleasant smile.

“G'day ladies,” he squeaked, “Your ministry bloke'l be along shortly. Can I get either of you something to eat or drink while you wait? Just made a batch of grilled goanna and fresh baked damper*.”

Hermione looked at McGonagall with wide eyes.

“Erm, no thank you,” Hermione said hastily, “I'm fine.”

The little man shrugged. Just then a section of wall behind the reception desk opened and a rather young-looking Auror stepped through.

“Miss McGonagall, Miss Granger,” the Auror tipped his head as he came up, “The Minister let me know you were on your way.”

Hermione moved forward urgently wringing her hands.

“Where are my parents,” she asked, “Are they safe?”

The young Auror looked at Hermione anxiously.

“Of course, Miss Granger, your parents are quite safe but…” the young man paused for a moment, “their not in Perth any longer.”

Hermione blanched.

McGonagall spoke up.

“What do you mean not in Perth?”

The young Auror held his hands out as if to try and calm them down.

“Now…now, don't panic. Let me explain.”

Hermione's patience, already stretched thin as a thread, felt dread welling up in the pit of her stomach. She stepped right in front of the young man, who took a tentative step backwards until he was pressed against the false wall into the Ministry. He eyed Hermione wearily.

“Tell me where my parents are,” Hermione whispered dangerously through clenched teeth.

“About three months ago, your parents were talking to some of the locals. They were told about a free health clinic needing volunteers down in a place called Mandurah. It's a town south of here at Madora Bay. They decided to move down there to work in the clinic. They're staying in a one-bedroom bungalow in Silver Sands.”

“They work in the clinic most days and they spend the rest of their time in their bungalow or walking on the beach. Believe me, Miss Granger, they are quite fine. You must understand we were left with strict instructions not to interfere with your folk's lives in any way.”

“Take us there at once!” McGonagall said, “When we arrive I would appreciate it if you would contact our Ministry. Tell them I will require additional Aurors as well as two of their most capable Oblivators. Is that clear?”

The young Auror nodded wide-eyed.

“Very well,” McGonagall added, “please proceed.”

Hermione and McGonagall placed their hands on the Aurors arm and after the uncomfortable compression of apparition they found themselves standing in an alley behind a row of similar looking, single-level bungalows.

The lawns were little sections of neat Palmetto Buffalo grass with tufts of Chilean needle here and there.

Hermione turned to the Auror.

“Which one is my parent's?”

The Auror pointed to the bungalow on the right. Hermione made a b-line to the back door. McGonagall caught her just as she was about to knock.

“Please exercise caution and restraint, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall whispered, “Keep in mind at present your parents don't know who you are. I would think it ill-advised to go barging in at the moment.”

“Oh, there not here,” the Auror spoke up, “They would be down at the Clinic just now,” he glanced down at a normal-looking watch on his wrist, “in fact they would be just about to go to lunch. They go to a small café a block down from the Clinic.”

“Is the Clinic far?” Hermione asked.

“Not at all, it's just a few blocks over on Mandurah Terrace,” the Auror pointed behind them, “but I don't think it would be wise to walk about dressed like this.”

“Right,” McGonagall nodded, “Very well, you will lead us to the clinic and after we arrive please contact the Ministry.”

With a swish and flick of her wand, McGonagall changed her appearance. She was now dressed in a stylish sun dress and matching wide-brimmed hat. Hermione thought she looked nice dressed in Muggle attire.

Hermione was already dressed in her usual form-fitting tee shirt and blue jeans. The only evidence she was not a normal teenaged girl was the front of her light pink shirt said Restricted Section written in silver glitter script across her chest.

When they reached the clinic, the Auror went off to contact the Ministry. Hermione and McGonagall waited on a bench set in the shadow of a building across the street.

They watched people come and go from the clinic entrance for about a half hour when a man and woman emerged and turned to their right, walking slowly down the sidewalk.

Hermione recognized them at once but they seemed much different then when she had left them those many months ago.

They were dressed much more casual than usual and were tanned. Her father Edward had on a comfortable white button-up shirt over kaki trousers. He had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. She had never known her father to wear facial hair before. His hair was quite a bit longer as well. She had never seen it below his collar. She thought he looked ruggedly dashing.

But it was the changes in her mother's appearance that struck Hermione the most. Daphne Granger had always been the picture of prim appearance and posture as long as Hermione could remember. Her mother had always displayed a professional image even when she was at home.

Now, as Hermione watched them walk arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, her mother looked

at ease in a loose fitting white short-sleeved blouse over kaki shorts. Her hair, much like Hermione's, was unfettered and hung long down her back.

Wendell and Monica Wilkins looked ten years younger than their real identities. Hermione could see the look on their faces as they smiled at one another and kissed. They looked happy and content. She could see no traces of Edward and Daphne Granger in either of them.

Hermione continued to watch as they disappeared into the small café. Then, a sudden horrible thought overcame her consciousness.

Could this be my parents if I had never been born? Would this have been the life they chose for themselves without me?

Hermione suddenly felt ill. She could not mistake they way her parents looked. It was as if they were completely at ease in this place she had exiled them to for their own safely.

This was not what Hermione had expected at all. She was sure she would find her parents disoriented and confused, not settled and so…so…happy!

She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. McGonagall looked at her young charge with worried eyes.

For the first time, the full impact of Hermione's decision to protect her parent's hit her with all the intensity of a blunt force trauma to the head. She had been so insistent on moving them to safety she gave little thought to the possible long-term effects it could have on their lives.

This was, as she could see now, the unknown factor that McGonagall and the Oblivator tried telling her about.

A single thought kept repeating itself over and over in her mind…

My parents would have been happier without me!

Nothing at that moment could have stopped the tears that seemed to burst from deep inside her. She covered her face with her hands as she leaned forward to try and control the body-racking sobs that overcame her.

“What is it child?” McGonagall asked deeply concerned. She placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione couldn't have responded if she wanted to. She had always been a creature of self control and poise but at that moment she couldn't seem to get a handle on her rampaging emotions.

It all seemed to be coming up to the surface. The years of worry about the threat of dark wizards and Death Eaters, her constant feelings of inadequacy in personal relationships and her private fear of the chasm that had been growing between her and her parents since she found out she was a Muggle-born witch.

She could see it clearly now. It was displayed before her like a nightmare that had become reality.

“Perhaps it would be best if we were to wait for your parents at their bungalow,” she heard McGonagall whisper. Several passersby were beginning to stare at the sobbing form sitting hunched over on the bench.

They weren't helping themselves by making a scene.

Hermione nodded. She used every ounce of fortitude and self control she could muster to reign in her emotions. She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she stood up to follow the Headmistress back to her parent's temporary residence.

Once there, they went again to the rear of the bungalow and making sure there was no-one to see they let themselves into the flat.

Again, Hermione was surprised by what she found. In their normal lives, her parents were organized and her mother was a stickler for cleanliness. Everything had its place in the Granger house.

But here, in the world of Wendell and Monica Wilkins, things were much more casual. The flat was neat but she could tell they were much less concerned about organization.

The tiny bungalow consisted of a sitting room, a small kitchen, a rather large bedroom and a tiny bath.

In the corner of the sitting room near a large front window Hermione saw a painter's easel. On it sat what appeared to be a half-finished water color of a sunset out over the ocean. It was very good. On the floor behind the easel were a few finished paintings of similar scenes.

She never knew either of her parents to have an interest in painting.

They heard the Auror step into the bungalow. He saw Hermione pick up one of the finished works.

“You know she's quite talented with a brush, your mother. She's sold several paintings to a business man from Melbourne and donated the proceeds to the clinic. Your parents are quite well liked here.”

He then turned and spoke to McGonagall.

“I contacted the Ministry as you requested Ms. McGonagall. They informed me they would be dispatching the additional Aurors and Oblivators in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” the headmistress replied as she too watched Hermione, “What time do the Grangers usually return from the clinic?”

“They usually get here between three-thirty and four but sometimes they stay a bit later depending on the number of patients they have,” he glanced at his watch again, “being a Thursday I would say they should be here at the usual time today. That leaves about an hour to wait.”

“Very well,” McGonagall said, “I should think it would be wisest to take them here. You do know what to do once the Granger's are returned safely to London?”

“Oh, yes ma'am,” the Auror replied, “My partner and I were briefed on the procedures back when we were first assigned to the Grangers.”

“Excellent,” McGonagall smiled at the young man, “then perhaps you should take up your station outside the clinic…”

The young Auror jumped slightly then smacked the heel of his hand on his forehead. He turned and bolted for the door.

Hermione had moved to the front window. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, lots in the depths of her thoughts, peering through the sheers at the ocean between two flats across the street.

McGonagall came up silently behind her.

“What is bothering you so, my dear?”

Hermione tried to organize her thoughts. She wanted to reason out everything that was happening to try and make some sense of it all but rationality seemed to elude her for the first time since she could remember.

“Am I doing the right thing Headmistress?” She asked without turning away from the window.

“What do you mean Ms. Granger?”

“Maybe I'm making a mistake by bringing them home,” tears were threatening to constrict her throat again but she fought them back.

“Why on earth would you consider such a thing?”

Hermione told her mentor what had occurred to her while sitting out in front of the clinic.

The old witch looked in horror at Hermione.

“Why, that's ridiculous Ms. Granger! Your parents love you! How could you think such a thing?”

Hermione finally turned around and looked into McGonagall's eyes.

“I know they love me but you don't understand Professor. For the past several years I've found myself becoming more deeply entrenched in the world of magic and less connected to the Muggle world. I know my parents have felt this as well. Maybe they knew it was coming even before I did. I think that's why they've been distancing themselves from me to make the eventual detachment easier.”

“It seems there's a gulf that's been forming between us, one I find harder and harder to bridge with each passing year. I don't even know if it's conscious on their part but it's happening none the less. Upon each return after the school session I find we've less and less to talk about.”

“They tried desperately to involve themselves in our world at first but lately it seems it's become less important. They throw themselves into their work. Even holidays are different now. I find myself wanting to spend as much time as I can with those…of my own kind.”

The words my own kind felt foreign to her but she could not deny the truth in them. That concept smacked of the very same mentality used by Voldemort and the Death Eaters to justify their reign of terror over those different from themselves. The truth was, she was different from her mother and father and she resided most of her life in a world wholly apart from them. Although, the estrangement from her parents was unintentional it was real and it was happening whether she wanted it to or not and she felt powerless to change it.

McGonagall looked at Hermione sadly for a moment then turned away to sit on the nearby couch. She suddenly looked very tired.

“While I would like nothing more than to tell you this is something constructed by an over-active imagination, Ms. Granger, I cannot. For, you see, I have first-hand experience with what you are going through.”

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond so she said nothing.

“Does this revelation surprise you?”

Hermione was slightly taken aback but she couldn't really be surprised by much of anything. She was feeling rather numb. She sat on the couch next to the Headmistress, folded her hands in her lap and listened.

“Both my parents were Muggles. Neither one showed the slightest magical ability nor did they care much for our society. There was a World War going on during my youth so mine was spent in much the same way yours has been. Staying alive was the main priority then as well although the threat came from the Muggle world.”

This did surprise Hermione. She knew about the Second World War. She had learned about it in Muggle grade school. When she thought about it for a moment, she realized the parallels between Voldemort and Adolph Hitler were a bit unsettling. Still she said nothing but let the old witch continue.

“I wanted nothing more than to protect my family from the utter destruction that followed in the wake of the Third Reich but my parents would have none of it. They chose to stay and fight. They did allow me to save some of my younger cousins but in the end, the decision to remain behind cost them their lives.”

Hermione was about to ask why the Wizard world did nothing to help during the war but McGonagall answered the question before she could ask it.

“Due to our law of secrecy, magic folk were forbidden to take part in the Muggle conflict. It was unfortunate. We could have saved thousands of lives. Although I missed them terribly, my parents did not die in vein. They managed to save hundreds through a covert underground network that smuggled people across the borders to neutral countries. It was small consolation to a terrified teenaged girl but it was the only thing I had to hold on to.”

“So when I tell you I understand what you are feeling Ms. Granger, I truly do, but I must tell you if you choose to leave your parents behind, it will be a decision you will come to regret. However, having said that, the decision is of course yours and yours alone to make.”

McGonagall paused to collect herself.

“I will honor your decision whatever it may be.”

They heard the unmistakable popping sound of apparition out in the alley. McGonagall rose to see to the newcomers as Hermione weighed the Professor's words.

They're your parents Granger. You put them in this mess so you need to buck up and see this thing through to the end! Maybe once you've got them home you can find a way to reconnect with them somehow. The Headmistress is right. You'll regret it if you don't.

Her mind made up, Hermione went out to meet the others. She told McGonagall she would go through with the retrieval process as planned.

About thirty minutes later the Auror watching over her parents came up and told them the Grangers were coming.

Everyone took their places and after her parents had gone into their bungalow, they all swooped in and took them down. They were put in a state of unconsciousness, then transported by portkey to St. Mungo's

The Oblivators and Aurors stayed behind to tidy up and remove all traces of Wendell and Monica Wilkins from Australia. It was going to be an arduous task but the Oblivators were very good at what they did.

The reversal of the memory modification process went as smoothly as anyone could have hoped for but when all was complete there seemed to be a rather unusual complication.

As Hermione sat in the waiting area of the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor, Professor McGonagall had come out to give Hermione an update on the progress. Just as she was about to sit down next to Hermione a Healer popped his head around the edge of the door.

“Excuse me Miss McGonagall may I have a word?”

She moved over to the Healer and they talked in hushed tones. When McGonagall suddenly stood ramrod straight, Hermione knew something was wrong.

She jumped to her feet and made her way to the ward entrance just as an Auror caught her by the shoulders.

“What is it Professor,” Hermione asked trying to free herself from the Auror's grip, “What's wrong? Is there something wrong with my parents? LET-ME-GO!”

The Auror released Hermione as if he had been shocked by electricity but she had not drawn her wand or cast any kind of spell. The Auror looked at his hands. They were smoking slightly. He looked back at Hermione as if she had just sprouted two additional heads.

“Please remain calm Ms. Granger,” McGonagall pleaded but Hermione had had about enough of remaining calm. If someone did not tell her what was going on in the next few seconds she was liable to pull her wand and start hexing everyone. McGonagall was wise enough to recognize this fact. “It seems there has been an unexpected…complication with the reintroduction of your parent's memories.”

Hermione couldn't seem to draw air into her lungs.

“What complications?” she asked breathlessly.

“While they seem to be quite normal and alert, it appears there are some…for the lack of a better description…gaps in your mother's and father's memories. We are, at present, at a loss for a reason for this. Their memories have remained in the Headmaster's office since they were removed. The vials were sealed with warded spell-o-tape and the seals were unbroken when we removed them to replace them into your parent's minds.”

Hermione stood frozen in place, unable to move or think or react to anything around her. She suddenly realized she had single-handedly destroyed her parent's lives. Voldemort didn't have to because she had done it herself. She looked at McGonagall who was watching Hermione closely.

They warned me this could happen. They tried to tell me. I can't lose control. It won't do anyone any good for me to fly to pieces. I should have left them in Australia. I should have let them have their happiness. I was selfish and this is my punishment! Broken parents!

The thought was almost enough to crush her. The guilt felt like a planet sitting on her shoulders.

“I want to see them.” It wasn't a request. She moved toward the door to the ward.

McGonagall held up her hand to stop the Auror as he began to reach for Hermione again. He looked relieved.

Hermione made her way to her parent's room with her entourage in tow. When she got to the door, she took a deep, steadying breath and went inside.

Both her parents were awake and sitting up in their beds. Hermione went to her mother's side first and sat in a chair beside the bed. She had to fight to keep her emotions from showing on her face but she managed a weak smile.

An Oblivator was talking quietly with her father. She looked up at her mom.

Her mother stared back at her for a moment with an odd look on her face.

“You're Hermione, aren't you?” Her mother asked.

“Yes,” Hermione answered in a shaky voice, “and you're my mother.”

“That's right,” her mother said but she didn't look right, “I have a daughter,” she looked away as if she was trying to see something far off in the distance, “and I'm a Dentist you know.” Her mother looked back at Hermione and smiled. “Do we have a cat?”

Hermione nodded. The fine thread of control she had been holding on to for the past two days seemed to snap. She could feel herself loosing it. If she didn't remove herself from the room in the next minute things were going to get even more difficult. Her parents were going to witness their daughter come completely unhinged and think they were raising a nutter.

Hermione forced herself to smile and take her mother's hand in hers. She kissed it and held it to her cheek for a moment. Her mother smiled warmly at her but her eyes were still strangely blank.

“Will you excuse me for a moment mum?”

Not waiting for her mother's reply, Hermione got up and made her way quickly to the door of the room. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out as she barely made the hallway.

Hermione Granger collapsed in a heap on the floor of the hallway and let the anguish and guilt take her. She could do nothing more than curl up in a tight ball and sob uncontrollably.

She could hear people talking and moving above her but she didn't care. She just wanted to be left alone.

The next thing she remembered was being lifted by several pairs of hands. They carried her to a different room and gently laid her on a soft bed. She heard them leave and the room became deathly quiet.

Somewhere between the body-racking sobs and the uncontrollable weeping she managed to slip into blissful unconsciousness.

*Damper is a kind of Australian bread.

-->

6. 6 - Celebrations

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard disclaimers apply

Chapter Six - Celebrations

As Ron stood talking quietly to the two women at the end of the alley that passed in front of Purge and Dowse Megan produced a wand and held it out.

The next moment they were bathed in the wash of headlights from a large vehicle as it materialized out of nowhere. It was headed straight for them.

Ron reflexively grabbed Cassandra by the arm and pulled her out of the way as the Knight Bus sounded its strange horn and lurched to a stop right next to them in the middle of the intersection.

As Ron watched the door of the bus fold open a young blond haired bloke with a terrible overbite and a serious acne problem peered at them from the bottom step of the doorway.

They could hear the shriveled old driver Ernie cackling in the background.

The pimply-faced young man stepped off the bus, pulled a well worn laminated note card from his pocket and cleared his throat. The young lad's voice was comically stuck in between adolescence and adulthood. His pitch changed constantly as if he were trying to yodel. The effect was quite amusing.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is…your name here,” he muttered squinting at the card. He paused, shook his head with a frown, rolled his eyes then continued, “Sorry, still new at this. My name is Hubert Higbey and I'll be your conductor for this…”

Megan stopped his speech with an irritated wave of a hand as she stepped toward the door of the bus.

“Yes, yes Hubert,” Megan sighed impatiently as she pushed the young conductor aside, “we know all about the Knight Bus love.”

Before Ron knew it he was being swept up into the bus by a very excited and overly enthusiastic Cassandra.

Megan paused to tell Hubert their destination and dropped some galleons into his fingerless gloved hand. In return he produced three tickets.

Cassie towed a bewildered looking Ron toward the back but before they could get settled the old faded purple double-decker bus lurched forward instantly with a loud bang.

Cassie landed on top of Ron on one of the many beds positioned on either side of the isle. Cassie smiled down at him with a mischievous little grin and started snogging him senseless.

Megan, on the other hand, was thrown right on top of the young conductor. She landed on the startled lad with a shriek knocking them both to the floor.

They heard Ernie cackling again as they sped their way at break-neck speed through the dark and mostly deserted London streets.

Megan was struggling to get off the boy when she heard the muffled voice of Hubert below her.

“Beg pardon miss!”

Cassandra and Ron rushed to help Megan to her feet when they realized Hubert's head was tightly wedged between Megan's ample breasts. Cassandra exploded into a fit of squealing laughter as they finally got Megan upright.

The young conductor only laid there, a dazed and bewildered look on his crimson face.

Megan adjusted herself with a scowl at her best friend.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

Cassandra could only nod as she tried to stifle her gleeful laughter.

Ron reached down and pulled the conductor stiffly to his feet. Hubert held out their tickets in a shaking hand. Megan snatched them with a glower as the young lad turned and fled to the front of the bus.

“I'll get that old tosspot if it's the last thing I do,” Megan growled staring icy daggers at the back of Ernie's head.

“Oh stop Megan,” Cassie chuckled, “I'm sure it wasn't intentional.”

Megan's perfectly plucked and shaped eyebrows seemed to disappear into her hairline.

“Not intentional! That bloody old gas bag does that sort of thing every time we get on this stupid bus and you know it.”

Cassie looked at Ron and shrugged. Ron worked hard to keep his face as neutral as possible. It was difficult with the picture of the young conductor's head wedged between Megan's big boobs. He tried to change the subject.

“So where's this, what's his name live?” his eyes shifting between Cassie and the older woman.

“You mean Darby?” Megan said, “He lives over in east London. It's not far.”

He was beginning to wonder what he was getting himself into.

Cassie seemed to sense Ron's concern and patted his arm gently.

“Don't worry love. He's a really nice bloke. Loves a good party, he does and he's loads of fun to hang out with. You'll see.”

She playfully towed Ron toward one of the beds once again as Megan followed close behind.

When the bus took another sharp turn Megan lurched to grab one of the many shiny silver metal poles put there for hand holds for standing passengers. She turned to glare at Ernie again. She could see his toothless grin in the rear view mirror.

Cassie had fallen on top of Ron again as they were tossed about and began snogging him even more intently.

Suddenly Ron found himself lost in this sexy and very pretty girl. He knew Cassandra must be a bit older than he was but she seemed to really like him. It was quite shocking since they had not known one-another for more than an hour. He was still quite dazed from the events earlier that evening at St. Mungo's but he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything other than her soft, warm lips and her slender, curvaceous body pressing him into the mattress of the bed they had fallen on.

He let himself become lost in the flowery scent of her perfume as his hands roamed over her body. Cassie writhed gently at Ron's touch. He could feel her intense need for…something as they lay there locked in a heated exchange of intense kisses.

He felt like a randy little bastard for letting himself enjoy the attention of this strange, affectionate girl.

His mind was suddenly filled with the memory of his snogging sessions with Lavender Brown. He recalled what it had been like to kiss his fellow Gryffindor classmate but as he lay there yielding to this strange girl's attention he realized it had been completely different. Kissing Lavender had been fun and thrilling and new…but that was all it was…just kissing. There was never a promise, unspoken or otherwise, of the possibility of something more.

Now, there with Cassandra, he was hit with the sudden notion her kissing seemed to hint that something more was not only possible, it was almost a certainty!

At that moment he realized he was with two real life scarlet women! It wasn't just a description of their behavior…it was what they really were!

Before he could stop it his mind's eye was next filled with the seemingly innocent face of Hermione Granger. The memory of how she had flung herself into his arms and kissed him that night in the room of requirement flooded his consciousness.

A sudden stab of guilt flashed across his mind but as he felt Cassandra's tongue swirl over his it evaporated just as quickly. It was replaced by the realization she had decided to go with Harry. Hermione had made a conscious choice to abandon him and his family in one of their darkest hours to be with The Bloody Savior of the Wizard World!

It frustrated him to know that. He tried to be angry with Harry as well but he knew he couldn't. Harry didn't cause Hermione to change her mind. In fact Harry had told her to go with him. It just made it seem that much worse. It made it seem like a conscious betrayal.

He decided then he would give himself over to this strange girl with no guilt or remorse.

If they can do as they please…so can I!

He heard Megan clear her throat from the bed next to them.

“Would you two please control your hormones for Merlin's sake? I'm getting queasy,” she muttered.

She glanced toward the front of the bus where the young conductor was starring at Ron and Cassie with unveiled, slack-jawed fascination.

“I think our young Hubert there is about to swallow his bloody tongue.” She chuckled.

Cassie reluctantly untangled herself from Ron and sat on the edge of the bad facing her friend. It took Ron a moment to get his wits about him then he sat up next to Cassie.

They spent the rest of the ride talking quietly among themselves as the Knight Bus hurled them through the London darkness.

Ron learned Cassie and Megan worked together at a place called The Dancing Leprechaun. It was a newer wizard pub just over the border in Scotland. He discovered they also worked in London at night sometimes to make extra money but they seemed reluctant to discuss exactly what that entailed.

Ron decided not to push for more information and pushed the thought from his mind as the Knight Bus came to a lurching halt. Peering out the windows he noticed they had stopped in a rather decrepit and run-down section of London.

As they disembarked the conductor bid them a hasty farewell as the bus sped off, disappearing into the night.

Ron found himself standing at the entrance to what looked like another alley. There were overflowing and overturned trash bins everywhere. The pungent smell of rotting refuse and what he thought might be urine permeated the air. He was about to ask the girls where they were taking him when Megan moved off into the alley at a brisk pace completely unconcerned about their surroundings.

Cassandra tugged on Ron's sleeve and began pulling him after Megan.

As they made their way down the dark alley Ron could see figures here and there moving in the shadows of the buildings on both sides. He tried to keep his fear from showing as they moved deeper down into the narrow lane.

Cassie held Ron's arm. She looked up at him with a smile.

“You'll like Darby. He's a lot of fun. He can tend to get a bit tipsy sometimes but he's pleasant enough.” She paused as Ron looked down at her smiling face. He tried to smile back but it looked more like a grimace.

“Don't worry love!” Cassie laughed, “I promise you'll have a great time. You'll see!”

“Believe her Ron,” Megan said, walking slightly ahead of them, “These folks know how to celebrate!”

A moment later, Megan guided them to a battered heavy metal door partially covered in peeling blue paint. The rest of the door was covered in rust. There was a small square portal about eye level.

Megan winked at Ron as she pounded hard on the door. When no one answered she pounded again.

It seemed like they waited for a long time as Ron peered nervously about. When he heard the awful screeching and grinding of metal on metal his attention was snapped back to the door. He watched as a panel slid back in the portal to reveal two dark eyes overshadowed by bushy pale blond eyebrows pinched closely together. The eyes looked angry.

“Who goesh there?” The eyes blinked and asked in a voice slurred by inebriation, “What do you want?”

“For Merlin's sake Darby,” Megan's lips pursed as she put her hands on hips, “Are you so toasted that you don't recognize me?”

It took the eyes a moment to focus on Megan's face then they widened in surprise.

“Megan Youngblood! Ish that choo?”

“No, you barmy sot,” she quipped, “I'm Voldemort come to curse your socks off! Now let us in!”

The eyes laughed raucously but then paused mid-chortle as they spied the other two.

“Who you got with ya?” The voice demanded.

“You know Cassandra,” Megan said with a bit of irritation. She was about to introduce Ron when the eyes in the portal almost popped completely out of the opening when they focused on Ron's face.

“Great galloping ghosts!” The voice shouted, “I know that bloke. He'sh one o' them what off'ed the Dark Lord ishn't he?”

Ron could see the eyes roll up in thought and a long thin finger press against a blond go-tee below.

“Why, you're that Ronald Welby or Wiggly fellow or something like tha'. Am I right? Saw your picture in the Prophet I think? ”

Before Ron's ire could spike and any of them could respond they heard a rusty bolt being thrown on the other side of the door.

“Come in…come in!” The voice said as he threw the door wide open.

When Ron's eyes finally adjusted to the light flooding the alley from the doorway he could finally make out the figure standing there.

Darby Danforth was a tall, rail thin bloke dressed in bright lemon-yellow robes and sporting a tall, pointy wizard hat.

“Greetings one and all,” Darby shouted as he flung his arms wide, staggering a bit. The drink he was holding sloshed all over the place.

Megan stepped through the door and immediately danced to the right out of the way of the flying liquid. Cassandra towed Ron into the room as Darby staggered backward a bit. He seemed quite unsteady on his feet but he was smiling broadly at Ron with a fascinated gaze.

Another shorter man dressed in royal blue stepped forward and pulled the heavy steel door closed and slid the bolt home. He then turned to Ron and the others with a pleasant smile.

“Hello and welcome,” he said, “I'm Leonardo Talbot, pleasure to meet you. You're a real hero!”

Ron only smiled and nodded at the man. He looked around and could see the place was packed with people. Everyone seemed to be dressed in brightly colored robes.

The floor of the room they were in was wide open to the ceiling above. The ceiling was exposed metal latticework with skylights set into the roof panels here and there. The second level seemed to consist of a wide balcony that ran all the way around the main floor. He saw slender white columns that held up the second floor balconies spaced evenly around the room.

Directly across from them was what looked like another entrance and two sets of wrought-iron and wood steps that went up to the balconies above on either side of the far entrance. Several other witches and wizards were entering at the other end.

Everyone seemed to be watching Ron and the girls as they made their way into the main room.

Ron noticed a small crowd under the balcony to the left then realized it was a bar that ran from one end of the far left wall to the other.

Bright lights, music and lively conversation filled the place. The pleasant positive energy all around them seemed to be infectious. Ron could feel the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin as he took it all in.

As the man named Leonard hugged both Megan and Cassandra Ron realized he seemed to know them quite well.

Cassie beamed up at Ron.

“What say we go have some fun?”

He watched as Megan slid her arm around a teetering Darby and wandered off into the crowded room. Ron smiled down at Cassandra widely and draped an arm over her shoulder nodding.

“Lead the way!” He grinned.

Before they could take more than a few steps Ron found himself being mobbed by a rush of genuinely fond greetings, well-wishing faces and quick introductions to almost everyone in the room. What shocked him more than anything was that they all seemed to know his name...his real name. Thankfully not everyone was a drunk as Darby.

Cassandra held on to Ron's arm tightly as people swarmed around them trying to get close enough to Ron to shake his hand or simply to pat him on the back, thanking him for what he had done to rid the world of the Dark Lord.

It was all a bit overwhelming but he was really enjoying the attention. Cassandra seemed to be enjoying it as well.

A few moments later a staggering Darby Danforth supported by Megan elbowed his way through the crush of well wishers and pressed a drink into Ron's hand. Megan handed one to Cassandra as well.

With that Darby raised a hand and shouted loudly above the throng.

“Here…Here,” he hollered, “Attention everyone, SEE HERE…”

Everyone seemed to fall silent at Darby Danforth's request. He offered the room a crooked smile.

“That's lovely,” he chuckled, “I would like to offer a toast!” He looked all around as most everyone hoisted their drinks into the air. He looked pointedly at Ron.

Ron wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do at that point so he hoisted his glass over his head.

“To Ron Wallaby,” Darby shouted. Megan quickly put a hand to his ear and whispered something, “Wha…Oh, So Sorry.” Darby said unabashed, “To Ron Weasley…The young man who aided in sending old Voldemort to the great beyond and make our world safe once again! We salute you!”

The rest of the crowd exploded shouting “SALUTE!” Then they all broke into a deafening cheer, “HIP HIP…HORAY…HIP HIP…HORAY!”

Ron couldn't believe what was happening. He simply couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that all those people were cheering for him.

He lowered his drink and drained the glass into his mouth. He had no idea what he had just drunk but at the moment he didn't care. Whatever it was burned his throat all the way to his gullet but he hardly noticed as most everyone around him drained their own glasses.

Before he knew it someone had pressed another full glass into his hand and without another thought he drained that one as well.

Cassandra sidled in front of him and capturing him with her arms around his neck kissed him hard and open-mouthed. When she pulled back from her heart-stopping kiss she smiled up at him.

“I told you, you're a hero.”

The rest of the evening was spent mingling with anyone and everyone. Ron regaled them with descriptions of events over the past several months. Everyone listened with rapt attention and seemed to hang on his every word.

Ron told them of the time they were captured and taken to the Malfoy mansion where they managed to escape before Voldemort arrived. They were quite surprised to hear they had been sprung by a house elf.

He also told them of how they broke into Gringot's, how they had taken the battle to Hogwarts where they fought and eventually defeated the Dark Lord and his minions.

Everyone was enthralled and amazed at the details and Ron had no problem telling the tales over and over.

Before he realized how much time had past since they had arrived he found himself getting very tipsy. It seemed as soon as he would finish his drink another would be shoved into his hand.

What struck him as quite surprising is that Cassandra never left his side. She seemed to hang on his every word and marveled at his tales along with everyone else.

When they found themselves alone for a moment she pulled him into yet another heart-stopping snog then chuckled at the befuddled look on his face.

“You know Ron,” she said, “You should write a book about all those things that happened to you and your friends. They're so exciting! I'll bet just about everyone in London would buy it. It would make a bloody fortune.”

Ron considered her words for a moment. Even in his slightly pickled state the idea struck a cord inside him. He had never considered himself much of a story teller but he recalled how they all seemed mesmerized by his tales. He smiled down at his lovely companion.

“You know Cassie…that's a smashing idea. The wizard world needs to know what happened. They need to know the truth…(hic)…but how does one go about writing a book like that? Don't know if I'm much of a writer…”

Cassandra was about to respond when a short plump witch seemed to appear out of nowhere next to Cassie. She was wearing a shimmering silver dress and black glasses that were studded around the lenses with glittering rhinestones. She smiled widely at them.

“Forgive me” the woman said in a silky voice, “but I couldn't help overhear you say something about writing a book?”

Ron squinted at the woman then his eyes flew wide with recognition. Cassandra scowled at her.

“I know you! You're Rita Skeeter!”

“That I am, my dear and you're Ronald Weasley. One of the Golden Trio if I'm not mistaken,” she beamed and held her hand out to Ron lavishly, “I don't recall having ever been formally introduced?”

Ron absently reached out to take her hand but Cassandra swatted it glaring at the older woman.

“Buzz off you old tart. Ron's with me!” She growled.

Rita was unaffected by Cassandra's display of territorial jealousy.

“How lovely dear,” Rita gushed in her most silky manner, “but I'm afraid you misunderstand my intentions. I merely wish to inform Mr. Weasley that I am a published author specializing in the exact sort of book he wishes to write.” Rita turned her attention back to Ron.

“Perhaps you've read some of my work? Armando Dippet; Master or Moron, or perhaps, The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore? That was an international best-seller with global sales of over fifteen million copies to date. Those have sold out and the book is now in its third re-print.”

Cassandra's surprised gaze snapped back to Rita's smiling face, “Fifteen million copies?”

“Indeed young lady,” Rita smirked as she inspected her fingernails, “At twelve Galleons each…well, I'm sure you can do the required calculation darling.”

“My next endeavor promises to be just as successful. It's going to be called Cornelius Fudge; The Unraveling of a Dictatorship. It's going to shed much needed light on the former Minister's attempts to use his influence and the power of his office to manipulate and suppress the truth while costing the Wizard world countless lives.

Ron looked at the woman with wide unfocused eyes.

“Yah, I remember The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore!” He snorted, “Hermione Granger wanted to curse you into oblivion over that one.”

At the mention of Hermione's name Rita physically winced, blinking her eyes rapidly.

“Really?” Rita asked a bit nervously offering them a shaky smile, “Is the…erm…lovely Ms. Granger in attendance tonight?”

“What?” Ron asked a bit confused, “No…no. Have no idea where she is. Last I knew she was still at Hogwarts with Harry.”

“You don't say!” Rita's eyes narrowed.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Ron asked angrily.

“Beg pardon?” Rita looked pointedly at Ron, “Oh nothing. Nothing at all,” she said waving a hand, “Now, Mr. Weasley…about that book…”

Before Rita left she had a firm commitment from Ron for a formal interview to discuss the possibility of telling what Rita had cleverly described as his side of the story.

The whole time the older woman was there Cassandra regarded her with barely veiled contempt. When Rita walked off Cassandra continued to glare at the woman's back.

“I don't know that I care for that smarmy little witch,” she said, “but I must admit…fifteen million copies is nothing to sneeze at Ron.”

“That's a bloody trunk load of galleons isn't it?” Ron remarked grinning.

“It certainly is love!” Cassandra beamed up at him.

It was not long after Megan found them and suggested they go to The Dancing Leprechaun before the placed closed for the night. Ron was a bit apprehensive at first because he had no money. The girls assured him there would be no need for money. With his new-found fame and the fact the girls knew everyone in the place they assured him he would be well taken care of.

This time however they decided to apparate instead of taking the Knight Bus. Megan was still a bit miffed at Ernie and with them being a bit tipsy there was no telling how they would end up tossed around inside the thing.

Much to Ron's surprise The Dancing Leprechaun was a real authentic Muggle Scottish pub. Again the place was packed with all manner of witches and wizards celebrating the death of the Dark Lord.

Once again Ron was the toast of the night. Just as the girls had said all three of them were treated to all the food, drink and attention they wished. The celebration went on into the wee hours of the morning until Megan decided they had all had quite enough.

Ron was positively obliterated when Cassandra, not quite as pissed, side-along apparated Ron to their flat just outside of a town called West Tallyvale.

The last thing Ron remembered before blissful unconsciousness swept over him was Cassandra's sweet warm lips nibbling at his ear.

-->

7. 7 - Moving Forward

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N; This chapter is a bit of a fill-in…As always, thanks for reading.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Seven - Moving Forward

Harry woke the next morning after another dreamless night of sleep He felt rested and more relaxed than he ever remembered.

I could really get used to this…

Even though the weight of the day's events sat heavily on his mind it was nothing like the stress of the last several years. It made him feel a bit guilty to be so…care free.

He thought about Hermione and how much better things would be for her once her parents were back. He figured she would want to spend some time with them and help get things back to normal.

As far a Ron was concerned, Harry had no idea what caused him to go completely off the grid but he figured Ron would surface sooner or later. He still couldn't understand why he wasn't with Hermione or at least with his family.

As he made his way to the kitchen after a nice hot bath, he was assaulted with the smells of breakfast. Hermione may have disapproved of what he was thinking at the moment but having a house elf was worth its weight in galleons!

“Morning Kreacher,” Harry said brightly as he sat down at the table.

“Master,” Kreacher replied and bowed low. The heavy silver locket rapped hard on the stone floor again.

Harry tensed for a moment, then slid off the bench and went to crouch down in front of the wrinkled old elf.

“Now see here Kreacher,” Harry said as kindly but sternly as he could, “Let's stop this whole master business shall we? I'm not your master and even if I were, I wouldn't want to be. I'm your friend, ok so as friends I would much prefer if you would just call me Harry.”

Kreacher stood there blinking at Harry for a moment then his bottom lip began to quiver. Harry guessed what would come next and he wasn't disappointed. The old house elf's eyes began to tear and he covered his face with his hands.

“No-one has ever considered Kreacher a f…friend!”

“Know what,” Harry replied matter-of-factly, “They do now. After what you did for us at Hogwarts the wizard world thinks of you as a hero, wouldn't surprise me if they don't award you a medal or something for your bravery.”

Harry made a mental note to pass that idea on to Kingsley and maybe even mention it to Mr. Weasley as well. Dispatching Voldemort should have earned him a few points with the Ministry so he may as well use them for a good cause.

Kreacher, as expected, burst out in a fit of wailing tears. All Harry could do was pat the elf lightly on his thin shoulder until he got a hold of himself. After a moment Kreacher looked back up at Harry.

“Mas…er…Harry Potter sir is indeed the greatest and most noble wizard who ever lived!”

Harry couldn't help but smile and chuckle, “Right erm, thanks Kreacher. We'll work on the whole formal addressing thing. Thank you for breakfast by the way.”

“It's Kreacher's honor to look after his ma…Harry Potter sir. If there is anything else you require…”

“No…no Kreacher,” Harry replied looking over the mouth-watering spread on the table, “I think this is plenty.”

Kreacher scurried off to attend to cleaning up the kitchen humming in his low scratchy voice while Harry settled himself to his scrumptious breakfast. As he dove into eggs, kippers, muffins, and fresh, ice cold pumpkin juice he perused the day's copy of The Daily Prophet. When he saw the photo and the headline below the fold he almost spit his juice across the room.

The photo showed Ron, who was obviously drunk out of his mind, with his arm around a very pretty, beaming blond witch. He was mugging for the camera.

The caption below the photo read,

Golden Boy- The Celebration Continues!

He then read the article that followed;

“Last night Ronald Weasley, one of the members of the now famous Golden Trio of young Hogwarts Students who were primarily responsible for the demise of Lord Voldemort, was spotted at the new wizard night spot The Dancing Leprechaun having what could only be described as lively evening of marry celebration.

Word spread around the local village and before long the pub was standing-room only as folks waited in line for hours just to get inside to get a glimpse of the red-haired hero.

We were fortunate enough to make our way in to try and get a word with Mr. Weasley. By the time we were able to reach him however, the celebration had been going on for quite some time.

When asked to share a snippet of the harrowing adventures that took place over the past several weeks, Mr. Weasley replied, “Hey…you, pull me finger!” When we respectfully declined he turned to another reveler and repeated the request. The man was then rewarded with a loud flatulent sound followed by raucous laughter. They then made their way to the bar.

Mr. Weasley was never very far from a lovely young witch by the name of Cassandra Crenshaw. It was later discovered Ms. Crenshaw is in the employ of the pub and was there having a good time on her night off. When asked about her relationship to Mr. Weasley she replied,

“Oh yah! Me and Ronny's real close. I'm just bonkers about `im! Isn't he the cutest thing and he's a bona-fide hero ya know? It was me what suggested Ronny write a book about all the things him and his friends went through. He's gotta meeting with this snobby author lady what's gonna help Ronny put it together.”

When asked who the snobby author lady was Ms. Crenshaw was unable to recall her name. Some speculation led us to someone who might have been the author in question. When asked if she had been approached about a possible book deal with Mr. Weasley she declined to be identified for this article but did offer a tantalizing non-statement, “Now sweetheart, let's not put the Wizard before the wand so to speak shall we. Like a fine mulled mead…all good things in time.”

Prestwick Pittman, the owner of The Dancing Leprechaun had this to say about the night's events and his special V.I.P. guest,

“Weer' mighty prood ta' haf sech a sportin' brier ta come callin' this nie'. As fine a lad `er there wuz one eya! B' mighty prood ta' `ave `erry Potter n' tha' wee bonnie lass come t' call as wail! Dars opn' `eny tym' n' `er gold is na' goot `er.”

When asked about the other two members of the Golden Trio Mr. Weasley had this to say, “No idea where they are but I'm `avin a jolly good time!(hic)” We're wondering when Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger will end their fastidious self-imposed exile and join the rest of the wizard world in celebrating their amazing accomplishments.

Further inquiry revealed the night of revelry for Mr. Weasley began earlier at the residence of one Darby Danforth, the rather notorious son of Digby Danforth, the member of the Wizengamot suspected in being a Death Eater sympathizer. No further information on that case has been released and no trial date has been set although one has to wonder if it is due to the chaos and disarray of the Ministry of Magic at present.

As more celebrations take place throughout the wizard world to signal the end of Lord Voldemort's dark reign of terror we'll be there to bring you the scoop.”

Harry could do nothing more than stare dumb-founded at the paper watching Ron's face contort into stupid silly muggings over and over.

The first thought that occurred to him was how Hermione was going to react to this. He couldn't help but feel bad for her. It would be the second time Ron had landed in the Daily Prophet completely pissed but not only that, with an attractive witch on his arm.

He could only hope Hermione was still in Australia although Harry thought it would serve Ron right if she saw what he was up to.

Hermione doesn't deserve this.

He also wondered what book the article had been referring to. Harry had no clue.

He laid the paper down with an exasperated sigh and glanced at the clock on the mantle. He was going to have to finish his breakfast quickly if he was going to make Colin's service on time. He cursed himself for loosing track.

After a hasty farewell to Kreacher Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and made his way to the front door of the house. Surveying the area as he stood on the concealed porch he noticed a few Aurors nearby. He recognized Benjamin Twycross but slipped his cloak over his head all the same. He stepped off the porch, turned quickly and disappeared with a pop!

---@>---

Hermione's eyes fluttered open to complete darkness. Disorientation made her head spin painfully for a moment until she recalled the events of the previous evening.

…Or maybe it's the same evening.

Stiffly she lifted her body from the bed and made herself move toward the sliver of light showing beneath the door of the room she was placed in when she had collapsed.

She cursed herself for her weakness and the memory of it irritated her greatly. She snatched at the doorknob and flung the door open. When the bright lights from the hall flooded the doorway she felt as if someone had stabbed her in both eyes, the pain piercing her brain.

Well that was really stupid Granger!

She stood there with her hand over her eyes waiting for the tears to stop flowing and the pain to ebb when she heard voices coming down the hall from her right.

When the two Healers came within sight of Hermione's open door they stopped.

“Ms. Granger,” The male Healer said, “You're awake.” They then noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks from beneath her hands covering her eyes, “My dear are you alright?” He exclaimed sounding suddenly concerned.

Hermione nodded, “Just opened the door too quickly. Should have lit my wand in the room first I suppose.”

Seemingly assured by her explanation both Healers seem to exhale.

“Do you know my parents Daphne and Edward Granger?” Hermione asked. “They're Muggles brought in for memory modification.”

“Yes, of course Ms. Granger,” the female Healer replied smiling, “I'm responsible for their care for this shift.”

Hermione removed her hands and began blinking rapidly to clear her vision. When she could see the Healers clearly she looked at the woman.

“Is there any change in their condition,” she asked hopefully.

“I'm sorry but only a little,” The woman suddenly looked sad, “The Oblivators and Ms. McGonagall have been working non-stop to try and find a solution. So far there seems to be no reasonable explanation for what is happening to them. I believe Ms. McGonagall is presently at the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry to find any information they my have on the subject.”

“I hear tell,” the male Healer added, “the next step if a solution can't be found here they will be transferred temporarily to a Muggle facility and there they'll undergo what I think I heard an Oblivator call a cat scan although I can't for the life of me figure out what the devil a cat would have to do with looking into ones head.”

If Hermione didn't feel so bad at the moment she would have thought that quite amusing. She knew, of course, the Healer was referring to what was known in the Muggle world as a Computed Tomography or C.T. scan that was used to take very detailed cross-section x-rays of just about any object including the human brain.

That knowledge only served to make her head pound even worse. She felt her stomach rumble with emptiness but she had no desire for food. Just the though of eating made the bile rise in her throat.

“Can I see them?” She asked.

“Of course Ms. Granger,” the female Healer replied, “In fact we encourage it. We feel the more familiar people spend time with them the better.”

With that Hermione made her way across the hall to the door she remembered from before. She realized she had no idea what time it was or if it were day or night or even what day it was for that matter but she also realized she didn't really care. The only thing that mattered to her was finding a solution to her parent's problem.

As she entered the room she could see they both looked much better then the last time she saw them. She recognized personal items they must have brought from their house to see if any of it would spark recognition. The female Healer told her they recognized a few of the items and it was a very good sign. Although Hermione was glad to hear, it did nothing to lessen the sheer weight of stress and guilt trying to squish her.

She spent time with both her mother and father, talking to them about things they had done together and places they had gone. Some they could remember some they couldn't.

The Healers had asked her to purposefully avoid mentioning anything connected to the magical world to try and stimulate as much of their Muggle memories as possible. They felt trying to assimilate too much wizard world information into their minds at this point would just be too confusing for them. She agreed.

At one point when fatigue got the better of her, without giving it another thought Hermione crawled into her mother's bed and enfolded her in a tight embrace laying her head on her mother's chest just as she had done when she was a little girl. Her mother seemed to respond rather stiffly at first but then slowly relaxed and even put a hand on top of Hermione's head after a while. It seemed to spark a deeply hidden maternal memory in her mother.

A bit later Hermione heard the voice of Professor McGonagall out in the hallway. She reluctantly excused herself from her mother's arms with a smile and made her way out to speak with her mentor.

She found her in deep conversation with a few Oblivators and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

McGonagall started slightly when she saw Hermione come out of her parent's room.

“Oh, I see you're awake, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said, “I'm glad to see you spending time with your parents young lady but you look as if your about to fall over from exhaustion. Did you not get any rest last night?”

“A bit,” Hermione replied but really didn't care to discuss her own condition at the moment, “Did you manage to find out anything at the Department of Mysteries Professor?” She didn't even realize she had addressed the now-official Hogwarts Headmistress that way.

“How did you kn…” McGonagall was about to ask then pursed her lips knowingly, “One should never underestimate your resourcefulness Ms. Granger however, unfortunately no. The Unspeakables were unable to find any useful information on correcting memory modification problems with Muggles. Most of the information that does exist pertains to wizard folk only and I will not risk any further…complications by applying untested theory.”

Hermione nodded. She wasn't surprised.

“The Healers told me you're going to try a Muggle C.T. scan next.”

“Yes,” McGonagall nodded, “That's one of the reasons Kingsley is here. He's going to personally oversee the transfer of your parents to the Muggle institution. All the necessary arrangements have been made so there is nothing for you to worry about.”

Kingsley stepped forward and laid a hand gently on Hermione's shoulder.

“I assure you Ms. Granger,” he said in his deep voice that resonated with surety and confidence, “They will be perfectly safe. The entire procedure should take about forty-eight hours. The Oblivators are already on route to make the necessary preparations on the other end.”

“What's the other reason?” Hermione asked.

Kingsley and McGonagall glanced at one-another.

“Beg pardon dear?” McGonagall asked.

“You said transporting my parents was one reason Mr. Shacklebolt was here. What's the other?”

“Yes…well. So I did,” McGonagall's face pinched slightly with concern. She looked at the Head Auror holding out her hand, “I think she needs to know Kingsley.”

Kingsley nodded glumly and Hermione could feel the blood turning to ice in her veins. She didn't know if she could physically handle any more devastating blows to her emotions at the moment but she steeled herself for the worst.

If you can survive the Crutiatus curse you can survive anything Granger so suck it up!

Hermione felt herself lifting her head and stiffening her jaw at the thought.

“Arthur and I were going through the Minister's office earlier today and we've discovered an egregious amount of papers, files and…other things have been removed and we have no idea at this time where it all might be or if any of it even still exists.”

What Kingsley was saying didn't surprise her all that much. After all Pius Thicknesse had been an imperiused Voldemort puppet and the Death Eaters would have had the run of the place after the ministry had fallen.

She should have seen it though. She should have been clever enough to realize what was coming next but she simply felt numb at the moment. Her mind was filled with so much sorrow and guilt she was completely unprepared.

“Hermione, the coded list of your parent's clients was one of the documents they took.”

She suddenly felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She wanted to vomit but she fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her and took a deep ragged breath.

McGonagall had voiced her concerns at placing her list within the Ministry but she knew if things went badly the Aurors and Oblivators would need access to the list and besides, she was relatively certain at the time all this was put together Hogwarts would eventually fall. She had refrained from making more than one copy because there was less chance it would be discovered. Once again she had outsmarted herself.

For a moment she couldn't figure out why the thought of her list being taken by the Death Eaters would cause such a reaction of dread. After all it had been written in an all but dead language and only two people on the planet had the key to decode its contents. One was herself and the other was standing right in front of her looking at her with compassionate concern.

It had taken her three days to compile the list but it wasn't as if she couldn't do it again.

“I'll make you another Mr. Shacklebolt,” she said but it didn't sound like her. It sounded as if the voice speaking was at the other end of the hallway.

Suddenly Hermione wanted to be somewhere else. She knew her parents would be in good hands and safe during the up-coming transfer and she thought she should be there but a C.T. scan was a relatively simple non-evasive procedure and she needed to get out of St. Mungo's. She wasn't sure why but then a face filled her mind quite out of the blue.

Harry…I need to see Harry.

She had no idea why but she was certain of it.

---@>---

He was riding on the back of Aragog rushing through the Forbidden Forrest and why he was on the back of that dirty great spider he had no clue.

`I HATE SPIDERS!'

But as he sat astride the creature's hairy back he could see its legs moving back and forth as they flew through the forest.

There was a constant pounding in his head.

It was then he realized Kreacher was riding his shoulders and the barmy old elf was constantly whacking him on top of his head with the handle of Harry's Nimbus 2000 broomstick chanting `Fight…fight…fight!'

The next thing Ron realized his eyes were opening to bright sunlight streaming in through the slit in some heavy curtains covering a window in a strange room.

A dull throbbing pain pulsed in his forehead just behind his eyes.

He then realized a body was lying next to him in a strange bed. A girl's body!

She was lying on her stomach in nothing but some very skimpy red satin and lace knickers. His eyes moved along the soft curve of her lower back and the gentle swell of a rather perfect looking bum.

Cassandra! I bloody slept with Cassandra last night!

At first shock and fear gripped him but then he slowly realized if something had happened she wouldn't be wearing her knickers…would she?

He looked down at himself and saw he was only in his boxers himself.

Oh Bugger!

He lay there trying to reason through the pain. He tried to search himself to see if anything was different. He could still feel the dull throbbing in his loins that had been a constant thing since he started snogging Lavender so that must mean nothing happened…didn't it?

I mean…wouldn't I feel different somehow?

Another dreadful thought occurred to him as he felt Cassandra stir beside him.

What if we tried and I couldn't…couldn't do it! What if I didn't know how? What if I made a bloody arse out of myself?

With those dreadful thoughts still swirling around in his throbbing head Cassie popped up and looked around for a moment until her hazy eyes fell on Ron.

Her face broke out in a wide, sleepy smile Ron thought just too cute for words.

“Mornin' love,” she whispered. She then leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the lips, “How you feeling this mornin'? You sure threw down a gob of whiskey and good cheer.” She chuckled as she rolled over and sat up, “You hit the bed and passed right out!”

Ron moaned to himself.

“I feel like I've got the bloody Hogwarts Express speeding through my brain. Erm…sorry for…you know…passing out and all. I didn't…erm…I didn't make an arse out of myself did I?”

“What?” Cassie looked at him still smiling, “No, love not at all. You were fine. You were so funny. That's the most fun I've had in ages.”

Ron exhaled in relief. He felt better except for the throbbing that had now shifted to his temples. He reached up and messaged them with his fingers. Cassandra watched him amused.

“I think you need a spot of Megan's after-party concoction. Amazin' stuff! Fix you right up, it will.”

She then proceeded to crawl over him to the other side of the bed. He couldn't help but take in the girl's amazing body. A different voice sounded in his head.

And you did absolutely nothing last night! Some lover boy you are…

Cassie slid off the bed and rooted around the room for a moment until she found a thin silk gown and slipped it on. She then went back to the bed and grabbed Ron's hand, giving him a yank.

“Come on,” Cassie laughed again, “Let's go see if Megan's up yet and I'll get her to fix her brew.”

As they made their way to the bedroom door they heard voices out in the hall. When Cassie pulled the door open Megan was standing there having a rather heated discussion with a strange bloke. He was shirtless and Megan was wearing a short black silky gown that showed all her shapely legs. Her arms were crossed tightly under her ample breasts.

“Look Gabriel,” Megan said, “We had a lot of fun last night but it's time for you to go love.”

“But,” the bloke stammered. Megan held up her hand.

“No really,” Megan said sternly, “The party's over, time for you to go home now.”

The bloke looked angrily at Megan for a moment. Ron bristled but when the bloke glanced at Cassie and Ron standing there but he just huffed and went on his way throwing his shirt on over his shoulders.

Megan turned to look at Ron and Cassie.

“Some blokes just don't seem to get the message.” She winked at them smirking.

“See you had some fun last night!” Cassie said brightly. Megan just lifted a slender shoulder then cast a glance at Ron.

“You as well,” Megan said grinning, “But our resident hero looks a bit peaky this morning.”

“Yah,” Cassie replied but grimaced slightly, “I believe he's in need of a spot of you magic potion dear.”

“Not a problem,” Megan nodded and headed down the hall, “We'll have you feeling right as rain in no time flat my boy.”

“Thanks,” Ron mumbled as he followed the girls.

They came out into what appeared to be the sitting room. The furnishings were old and a bit shabby but the place was clean and neat. Megan went into a small kitchen area and began fishing around in a cabinet for a few items. She produced what Ron recognized right away as a bottle of Pepper Up Potion. Turning to the icebox she produced a container filled with a thick red liquid.

After mixing a few things together in a glass she handed the concoction to Ron.

“Best not think about it love. Just open up and pour it in.” Megan said.

Ron gaped at her for a moment but it was Cassandra who piped up.

“Really Ron, it'll make you feel loads better, right Megan?”

“That it will, my love now in you go,” Megan said nodding.

Ron closed his eyes, threw the brew into his open mouth as he was instructed and swallowed. It tasted vile and he had to force himself not to wretch but once he had got the concoction down he smacked his lips and realized it really didn't taste half bad and he started feeling better almost at once.

As he stood there marveling at the effects the brew had on him he found himself grinning, “Not bad. What's in it?”

Megan beamed. “Told ya' so,” but then she looked at Ron a bit more seriously, “Oh a spot pf Pepper-Up, some Muggle tomato juice, and a little of this and that but be aware. I've found it can have some odd side-effects for…”

Before she could finish her declaration they heard a low rumble deep down in Ron's stomach. He looked down, placing a hand on his roiling gut. His face then wrinkled into a grimace and sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Loo?” He asked.

Megan pointed back down the hall, “Last door.”

Without another word Ron shot down the hall. The girls heard the door slam and the sounds of moaning relief coming from behind it.

Megan just shook her head then turned to give her younger companion a significant look.

“What's he still doing here Cassie?”

Whaddya mean,” Cassie asked innocently, “I like Ronny! I think he's really nice and a lot of fun,” she said but then a puzzled look crossed her pretty face as she bit her thumb, “but I don't think he's ever been with a bird before, know what I mean?”

“If he spends another night with you that'll change,” Megan retorted, “He's just a baby Cassie! What is he seventeen, eighteen tops?”

“So,” Cassie replied indignantly, “I'm only a few years older than he is besides, he really likes me and he's nice to me.”

Megan ran a hand over her face.

“Cassandra, far be it from me to tell you how to live your life but you're twenty-two years old and have shagged blokes old enough to be your grandfather! What's Golden boy gonna say when he finds out what we do in our spare time?”

“Well,” Cassie narrowed her eyes, “who says he has to find out?”

“Oh for the love of…” Megan was getting exasperated at her often-bubble headed best friend, “Of course he's gonna find out! Maybe not today or tomorrow but eventually he will, then what are you going to do? You plan on giving all that up?”

Cassandra simply shrugged her shoulder looking blankly off into the distance, “He does have that lucrative book deal in the works.”

“And who says he's gonna share any of that loot with you?” Megan asked. Cassie slapped the counter top.

“Well why not? T'was my idea after all, it was!”

“I see,” Megan said darkly, “Make an honest woman of you right?”

“Jealous, are we?” Cassie asked haughtily.

Megan mentally threw up her hands. She knew trying to talk common sense into her friend when she got like this was an exorcize in futility.

“No Cassie, I'm not jealous,” Megan sighed, “I hope things work out for you. I really do but just do me a favor and don't get your hopes up too high alright?”

With that Megan turned toward the stove and began pulling pans from the cabinets with her wand.

“You hungry?”

“Ravenous,” Cassie said with a slight growl but then smirked as they heard Ron come out of the loo, “but not just for breakfast!” She giggled.

As Ron turned the corner of the hall Megan tossed him a glance.

“Feel better?”

Ron took a quick inventory and stretched as Cassandra moved forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. He had pulled on his trousers on the way back from the loo.

“Yah, actually,” Ron smiled, “Never better. That's some amazing stuff you've got there!”

Just then an owl arrived at the kitchen window carrying the morning copy of the Prophet.

“Can you get that Cass?” Megan asked, “What do you like for breakfast Ron? I assume you feel up to eating, am I right?”

“Yah…erm…I'll just have a bit of whatever you're having, thanks.”

Cassandra took a few coins from a plate by the window and tucked them in the owl's pouch. Unrolling the paper she scanned the front page quickly. When she saw her own face next to Ron's on the front page she squealed so loudly it made Megan slosh porridge all over the stove.

“WE'RE ON THE FRONT PAGE OF THE PROPHET!” She screamed and started bouncing up and down.

Ron couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Cassandra's amazing, almost unfettered bouncing boobs. When Cassie ran to him and showed him the paper he could see she wasn't exaggerating in the least. There he was, sloshed out of his mind making stupid faces out of the photograph for everyone in the wizard world to see.

That includes my family, Harry and…Oh Merlin…Hermione!

He had not thought about her at all in the last few days. He had not thought about anything but getting lost in the world that was Cassandra. He liked being with her but when he thought what would happen when his mother saw the paper. His stomach knotted all over again.

Cassandra, still excited, began reading the article that accompanied the picture. When she read where the reporter had quoted her she squealed again. Ron could only offer her a smile that looked more like a grimace.

Megan was watching him with keen-eyed attention. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

“And see,” Cassie pointed to the article excitedly with wide eyes, “they even mentioned your book Ronny! Oh Merlin! Why you're gonna be even more famous and the book is gonna sell like fish n' chips! WAIT!” Cassie looked back down at the photo, “I'm gonna be famous now too!”

With that revelation Cassie tossed the paper up in the air and leaped into Ron's arms and started kissing him all over his flushed face. With one final squeeze Cassie slid to the floor and rushed toward the loo.

“Hold on I gotta pee! All that jumping up and down I guess!” She laughed and began singing all the way down the hall.

Megan looked at a completely stunned Ron with a smirk on her lips.

“You got family don't you Ron?”

He could only nod and flush bright red.

“Ooh,” she said, hissing between her teeth, “How do you think they're gonna take it?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth then a spastic little owl landed on the kitchen window sill. It was carrying a thick red envelope. Ron knew at once what that was. Megan saw his face turn sheet white. She turned to look at the fidgeting little owl.

“Oh boy,” Megan winced, “I think I know what that is. Better get it or there's no telling what will happen. I'd rather not have my kitchen destroyed if you don't mind.”

Ron crossed to the window and snatched up a hooting Pigwidgeon. He snatched the letter from the strap that held it to the owl's leg and tossed Pig back out the open window like a tiny feathered dart.

He rushed to the front door as the envelope rumbled and fluttered madly in his grasp. Ron had just managed to clear the threshold when the scarlet letter burst open with a shower of angry red sparks and loud popping sounds and hung in the air a scant few inches from his sweating nose.

He cringed as the booming voice of his mother exploded all around him. It was so loud it blew his hair back and made his cheeks flap.

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! HAVE YOU COMPLETELY TAKEN LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES? WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT FOLKS ARE SAYING ABOUT YOU? AND WHAT ABOUT THIS BOOK I'M BEING TOLD ABOUT? YOU MUST BE CONFUNDED! THAT'S THE ONLY PROPER EXPALINATION! YOU LISTEN TO ME YOUNG MAN…YOU WILL GET YOUSELF TO YOUR BROTHER'S FLAT IN DIAGON ALLEY THIS INSTANT AND YOU WILL REMAIN THERE UNTIL I SEND FOR YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? TO THINK THE TROUBLE YOU ARE CAUSING FOR YOU FATHER WHILE HE'S TRYING TO ASSUME THE ROLL OF MINISTER! HOW DARE YOU! GET TO DIAGON ALLEY…IMMEDIATELY OR I'LL TELL YOUR FATHER TO HAVE YOU ARRESTED AND HAULED INTO THE MINISTRY IN IRONS!”

As his mother's voice echoed off the walls around him the letter quickly burst into red-gold flames and disappeared in a puff of hideously smelling dark smoke. Ron stood there for a moment stunned and blinking as black soot from the mini-explosion covered his terrified face.

Back inside the flat Cassandra had returned from the loo as Megan began serving the breakfast she was making, putting the food out on plates and the porridge in bowls. They could here the booming voice of Mrs. Weasley clearly coming from the entrance at the front. Cassandra tossed Megan a quizzical look.

“Howler,” the older woman shrugged, chuckling, “and a good strong one too from the sound of it!”

“Who in blazes would be sending Ronny a howler, I wonder?” Cassie asked to no-one in particular as she watched the letter blow up on Ron's face. It made her jump slightly.

“Who do you think Cassie?” Megan stared at her dingy best friend, “Use your head. The bloke's been running around with us getting pissed and getting his picture in the Prophet to boot. Seems his old man is up for the Minister's post or something and finding his son running with the likes of us won't sit too well with those stodgy Ministry types.”

“What are you on about Megan,” Cassie looked suddenly aggravated, “Those stodgy Ministry types are some of our best customers!”

“Yes, well,” Megan actually blushed at that declaration, “This is a bit different Cassie.”

Ron came back into the flat looking glum and resentful but had seemed to take on the appearance of a scolded school boy all the same.

“Mum a bit miffed with you Ron?” Megan asked trying desperately to stifle the laughter trying to escape her throat. Cassie had retrieved a wash rag from the bathroom with her wand and was dabbing the soot from his face.

“You could say that,” he replied a bit dazedly.

“Come have some breakfast and you can sort it all out after,” Megan said as she sat down at her plate, “I don't think your mum will send the Hit Wizards after you this very moment.”

“Thanks,” Ron replied, “but I better go. You don't know my mum. Wouldn't surprise me if she put a tracing charm on the howler,” he looked down at Cassie, “I don't want to make any trouble for you two. You've both been really nice to me and well, I just better go that's all.”

Cassandra looked worried for a moment. She stepped away from Ron wringing her hands nervously.

“Your mum really wouldn't have you arrested…would she?”

Ron said nothing as he looked glumly at the floor.

“Why that's…” Cassie began to say but Megan quickly cut across her.

“Look Cassie, maybe it's for the best. Ron, you should go patch things up with your folks and after things settle down for a bit you can come back. We'll be here, won't we Cassie?”

Cassandra looked as if she wanted to argue her point, whatever point that was but Ron seemed to be resigned to his pending fate. He stepped toward Cassie and pulled her into a tight hug.

“I really like being with you. I've had more fun the last few days then I've ever in my life but Megan's right.”

“M…maybe I can go with you,” Cassandra asked. She looked as if she was about to start crying. Ron knew he wouldn't be able to handle that. Megan came to his rescue.

“I don't think that would be a good idea Cassie,” Megan said flatly, “There'll be time for that after, right Ron?”

“Of course,” Ron smiled at Cassie, “I'll be back as soon as I'm able. It might take a while to get things sorted out but I promise I will be back. I have to admit I kind of like being famous.”

With that Cassandra seemed mollified and Ron felt only slightly better about his chances for survival over the next few days. Cassandra folded him into a heart-stopping kiss then, after snatching a few pieces of bacon and stuffing them quickly in his mouth and retrieving the rest of his things he turned and apparated to Diagon Alley.

-->

8. 8 - Alternatives

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Eight - Alternatives

That was the thing about sleepy little Muggle villages. Once the witching hour was upon them one could always count on Muggles shuttering themselves up in their comfy little homes safe from the darkness outside their doors and the unknown things that prowled outside their windows…

If they only knew…

The dark figure stayed well into the shadows of some medium sized fir trees that grew between two quaint three-story stone walk-ups off the avenue that ran through the center of the town.

She watched as a Constable made his way up the sidewalk on the other side of the street, whistling softly, wholly unconcerned and oblivious to the deceptively quiet of the night.

A thin fog hung lightly in the air as a misty rain swirled in the chilly gentle breeze as it meandered down the lane.

She wasn't concerned about detection due to the industrial strength glamour she had placed on herself before aparating to this place but there was no sense in being careless.

One thing the mysterious figure was certain of…she didn't want to be here.

In fact, she had made it a point to stay very far away from any place associated with him.

The risks were simply too great and the possibility of being associated with him in any way was to jeopardize one of her most cherished assets…complete anonymity.

Anger roiled inside her at the thought she was now forced to do just that but she realized without hesitation what must be done could not be left to anyone else.

She caught herself muttering epithets under her breath. She chastised herself for letting her self control slip.

Oh for the love of…The idiots have me muttering to myself like a doddering old fool!

In the past these tasks were left to lackeys to perform, those who were weak of mind and easily controllable. Those like that pathetic boot-licking Peter Pettigrew.

But as she moved from the shadows and proceeded down the street in the opposite direction of the Constable she remembered how unreliable even those who professed unwavering allegiance could be. In the end Peter Pettigrew betrayed them. Peter had kept secrets of his own.

She had been the one to recruit Peter for the cause all those years before and had convinced him to use the man. She had been the one to convince the sniveling rat to betray the Potters by planting fantasies of glory in his mind. It was simple to bend him to her will but as those memories filled her mind she realized she had been careless. She had counted on his weakness as an asset and completely neglected to realize weakness could work both ways, a terrible miscalculation on her part and one which she had no intention of repeating.

Even staunch supporters of the cause like the Malfoy's had wavered in their forbearance. That would never happen again!

It was why she found herself in this place, heading to the deserted and decaying house on the hill.

It was why she risked exposing herself against her own better judgment, a sound judgment that had kept her alive and undetected for centuries.

Now, after the events of the past several weeks and the complete lack of patience and common sense on his part she was forced to put into motion an alternative plan.

It was something that had occurred to her shortly after she had received word of his unfathomable incompetence.

I swear I don't know why I bother. He's shown his failures and weaknesses far too often to garner any confidence in his ability to control even himself, let alone anything else…

But even as her reservations plagued her she knew she still needed him. If for nothing more than the fear he instilled on the world around him by the mere mention of his name.

She had invested too much time, knowledge and energy into letting it all be thrown asunder but if there was to be success this time she would have to be in complete control. There would be no loose ends to fret over. No weak links in the chain. The new chain would consist of a link of only one... Hers!

The path that led to the dark and foreboding manor house was overgrown with weeds and brambles that snagged at her cloak as she swept her way through. She was much too irritated to care.

The previously grand entrance looked menacing and dangerous now. The wood that made up the wide front steps sagged and appeared rotted beyond use.

All the first floor windows and doors had been boarded up years before and most of the second story windows had been broken out by vandals or curious wildlife. She was aware of the servant's entrance around the back of the large, multi-story house so she picked her way through the waste high growth to the rear.

In the darkness of the overcast night she found there was just enough light to make out the small, nondescript wooden door. She moved forward startling a bevy of Black Grouse nested along side the path. She froze for a moment waiting for the birds to scatter, listening intently for any other sounds coming out of the darkness.

Behind and to her left she heard the faint rustle of something moving in the tall, wild grass. She spun, wand at the ready but realized it was only a small grey fox. The animal shot her a disdainful look as if to tell her she had just ruined his possible supper for that evening, then turned and bolted into the darkness.

She couldn't help but smirk.

When she finally made the door she fished around inside her cloak and produced a key.

Discovering where the key was had been a simple task. It was nothing more complicated than asking him where it was kept. Finding it, on the other hand, had been much more laborious. He had entrusted the key to his family's estate to none other than that conniving Severus Snape.

It took her the better part of a day to find it in Snape's home in Spinner's End. Breaking down his wards and charms was simple due to his demise but he had been very clever about his hiding places.

She finally discovered it suspended in an apothecary of Essence of Mertlap in his potions making traveling kit he used to take to Hogwarts with him when he taught.

She had to give the man credit for his intelligence and ingenuity. He had fooled them all into believing his dedication to the cause only to discover he was working against them the whole time. She realized he had been very much like her in many respects and that was difficult for her to admit.

She had discovered the many secrets this old abandoned house contained. She had discovered the truth when she had seduced Snape. He had been an intriguing and capable lover but she was only after information and this was what little he allowed himself to divulge. She wasn't sure if it was a calculated maneuver on his part or that he was simply a master at Occlumency.

As she slid the key into the door and unlocked it, she decided at this point none of that mattered any longer. What mattered now was waiting inside this dreary and desolate place somewhere below her in the vast damp darkness of the basement.

Once inside she closed and locked the door behind her, pocketed the key and cast a dim red lumos so she could make her way through the dark manor. She dare not shed more light then necessary for fear of detection from outside.

The property was well away from other inhabited structures but she knew very well the place could still be monitored but the Ministry. She had detected no charms, enchantments or alarm spells upon her approach but it still paid to be thorough.

The one thing she could count on from the Ministry of Magic was when they solved a problem their attention was quickly diverted to the next order of business. With the Minister's office, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and many of the other smaller Ministry offices in total disarray it was the perfect opportunity to put her plans into motion.

That was one of the scant few things he had actually done right!

Officials were presently looking the other way but she knew it wouldn't last long. They were nothing if not diligent and resourceful in their efforts to right their own ship.

When news reached her ears Harry Potter was being recruited by the new acting director of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement she knew it was a major cause for concern. That potential threat would not manifest itself for many months or even years but it was still something to keep a weathered eye out for.

It was also going to make implementing part of her plan a bit more difficult but she had contingencies in place for just such unforeseen circumstances.

The Ministry weren't the only ones diligent and resourceful.

As she made her way through what used to be a grand kitchen she stole to the far side of the room to a small door tucked into the corner of a niche. When she tried to open it, the door was suck fast, swollen by weather and age.

Bugger!

She was hoping not to have to use any major magic while she was on the premises but it seemed unavoidable.

With a swish of her wand and a muttered shrinking spell the door opened with a shriek of its rusty hinges that seemed to echo through the whole house.

Oh for Merlin's sake! Why don't you just dance naked on the roof singing Celestina Warbeck tunes at the top of your bloody lungs while shooting fireworks out of your arse!

She stood motionless for a long moment listening intently. Nothing could be heard but the rats scurrying in the walls. At the moment rats were the least of her worries.

Inspecting the steps that led to the basement level she discovered they were passable for the most part. Irregardless, she took her time and care descending into the utter blackness below.

The floor of the basement was lined with flagstones and the walls were mortar and brick. The smell of mold and decay assaulted her nostrils as she looked around the space.

She decided it was safe to cast a more powerful lumos considering she was now underground with no windows or doors to show light.

There was a single narrow hallway that seemed to run the length of the house in both directions with doors set into the walls every so often on both sides of the hall.

While she was certain what she was looking for was here she wasn't certain which small chamber it would be in and searching them all would take time…much more time than she wanted to spend there.

With an exasperated sigh she moved off to the left and went to the last door at the end of the hall. She figured she would start her search backward and might get lucky.

After all, what you're searching for is usually in the last place you look!

She wrenched the small white paint-peeling door open and peered about the small room. It wasn't much larger than a cupboard. This room contained stacks of rotting and molding books, papers and what appeared to be boxes of files.

The next room contained much the same. The third contained a few small pieces of furniture, lamps, odds and ends and an old bicycle. It was the kind that had the huge front wheel and the tiny rear one where the rider sat on what looked like a small wooden seat atop the large wheel. She had no idea how anyone could actually ride the silly looking thing without the use of magic.

And I thought brooms were dangerous!

The fourth and final room on the left side of the hall was quite a bit larger than the others and contained what appeared to be a vast majority of the furniture from the den and living room. She stepped inside and paid particular attention for…

Ah…There we are!

Portraits and paintings!

Several of them, all stacked neatly on a pallet and covered with what looked like an old canvas tarp.

She lifted the tarp with her wand carefully so as not to stir too much dust. When she had the tarp safely out of the way she approached the stack of frames. There were about a dozen all of different sizes. Thin slats of wood separated each frame from the other so as not to damage any of the canvases.

Someone certainly took great care when they stored these! And she thanked the Gods they did.

Laying her glowing wand on a nearby table she gently lifted the first frame off the stack. It was a scene of what appeared to be a rustic Italian village…or something like that. She could tell instantly it was a Muggle painting because there was no movement.

It was obvious the house would possess this type of art. His father and grandparents were Muggles after all but the portrait she sought was one of the very few…if only magical paintings that would have resided within these walls.

She knew it had been done at the request of his grandmother. The portrait had been commissioned just after his graduation and he had hated it. It was bad enough he had to endure the constant attention of his doting fool of a Muggle relative but sitting for a portrait was almost too much for him to bear. A compromise was made and his request it be done by a wizard artist was granted by his grandfather if only to keep the peace.

Besides, somewhere in that twisted mind of his he had actually envisioned his portrait hanging one day in the hallowed halls of his beloved educational institution.

The old woman had been the snobbish aristocratic type and fought to bring her strange grandson in line with the conventional ideology of the rest of the stodgy family, wealth and power were the orders of the day.

There are those who thought she had succeeded but not quite in the way the old Matriarch had hoped.

As she worked through the stack of antique and ornate frames it was becoming clearer the closer she got to the bottom the one painting she was searching for was not among them.

As she turned over the last frame on the bottom she saw a portrait of a boy standing dressed in fancy blue satin togs. It was a hideous portrait. The brass plaque on the bottom of the frame read; Thomas Gainsborough; The Blue Boy, 1770.

She made a face at the painting that suggested the thing smelled bad and laid it back on the pallet. She then grabbed her wand and with a swish the rest of the art returned to its original place, then she levitated the tarp back over the pile.

Why isn't it here? One would think all the artwork would have been stored together.

She resigned herself to keep looking. On and on she went through the storage rooms until at last she came to the door of the final room. Exasperated at the amount of time she was spending in this place she snatched the door open with her wand this time.

Stepping inside the room she saw the usual furniture, piles of linens, lamps and a collection of other such household items. This storage space seemed to contain what looked like the contents of the master's chambers. A huge, ornately carved wood headboard leaned against the back wall.

As she picked her way through all the effects she did not see what would appear to be a portrait. Discouraged at the thought of having to go back through all the rooms again or search the rest of the derelict old house she sat on the dusty corner of a red velvet settee half covered by a sheet.

As she sat there miserably deciding where to go next she laid her wand across her lap and put her hands to her face. When she slid them down, tugging at her cheeks making them sag slightly a glint of gold color caught her eye from near the floor behind the massive headboard against the back wall.

What's this then?

With as much care as she could she levitated the headboard as high as it would go. The wood made a dull thump as it bumped against the low ceiling.

There, leaning against the wall, almost covered completely by what looked to be a hand-made quilt was a piece of artwork. The only visible part of it was the two bottom corners of its ornate gold frame. The front of the painting was turned toward the wall. It was about three or four meters square in size.

With her free hand she gripped the top of the frame and hauled it out from behind the headboard then slowly lowered the huge piece of furniture back in place.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment but then an amusing thought struck her.

Always in the last bloody place you look!

She carried the painting over to the settee she had sat on and leaned it against the back. Slowly she lifted the quilt to expose the canvas beneath.

As the picture came into view a wide smile played across her face as she recognized the subject immediately.

The figure in the painting blinked a few times then, peering out of the canvas, sneered at the woman's grinning face.

“It's about bloody time someone decided to come and find me!”

“You, young man, are fortunate enough I even bothered,” the witch shot back gruffly.

“Yes…yes, whatever,” the figure in the portrait waved a casual hand at the woman, “now be a good girl and get me out of here!”

The look the figure projected could only be described as careless boredom as he sat back on his chair.

The mysterious dark witch took in the whole of the portrait for a moment as her mind filled with indignant rage and her vision suddenly turned red with seething anger.

A teenaged Tom Riddle sat quite casually on a stiff, high-backed gilded chair that put one in mind of what a medieval throne may have looked like, its cushions covered in a gaudy red velvet.

One leg thrown over the other and arms crossed his visage projected an air of supreme arrogance and superiority.

She wanted to reach into the painting and smack the smug look right off his unquestionably handsome face.

She lunged forward with her wand a scant millimeter away from the canvas spitting angry red sparks from the tip.

Tom Riddle's image reared as far back as the chair would allow keeping his wide eyes on the tip of the wand.

“Now you listen to me you pathetic excuse for a sorcerer!” The witch spit with all the venom she could muster, “It's your blundering and continued ineptitude that has brought me here in search of your smarmy little picture! If you possess even a smattering of useful common sense you will keep your repulsive mouth shut and do exactly like I command or I swear I'll torch this little painting of yours and send you on to the next great adventure without so much as a twinge of regret…am I making myself clear or would you prefer that I etch it into the canvas above your oil painted head so you don't have the misfortune of relapsing into stupidity?”

Tom Riddle's image blinked rapidly at the dangerous, glaring eyes of the woman before him then settled back in his chair, arms folded tightly at his chest.

“I suppose I'm at the mercy and whims of whomever possess this painting so…” He held out a hand toward her wearily this time, “I'm yours to command.” As he said it his face pursed as if he had just tasted something dreadful.

“Argh!” The woman slung the quilt back over the portrait with a flick of her wand. She repeatedly reminded herself this was a necessary evil so as not to incinerate the thing. With another wave of her wand she reduced the portrait to a size small enough to fit in the pocket of her cloak and slid it safely inside.

“Now, we will be traveling shortly,” she said to the empty room but she knew he could hear her voice, “so do remain silent until I say otherwise.”

“As you wish oh perpetual queen of the shadows…” She heard his miniaturized voice exclaim.

Gods! I should have just switched sides centuries ago!

With that sarcastic declaration she could almost feel the bones of her Great Grandfather tossing about in his grave.

After making certain she removed all traces of her presence at the old Riddle Manor she apparated to the room she was keeping at the Leaky Cauldron.

Now that the first phase of her plan was complete it was time to implement the next. She needed to prepare for her up-coming interview with a very important and clever witch. She would have to be on top of her game if she was to succeed in her endeavor.

It had been quite simple to produce the necessary documentation and credentials to pass even the most in-depth inquiries into her past and she had spent years perfecting her skills and knowledge necessary to acquire the position she sought. It wasn't that she had a desire to hold such a position in the past, it was as a result of his failures that required her to do so now.

But to fool her interviewer was going to take some very prodigious skill. She could ill afford to make any mistakes.

-->

9. 9 - Saying Goodbye

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N; Character and plot development in progress. This chapter is a bit long. It does get better and more exciting, I promise. Some of the next chapters will contain gratuitous smut. A few of our teenaged characters will be acting like…well…teenagers!

Standard Disclaimers Apply…as always.

Chapter Nine - Saying Goodbye

Harry appeared in the shadows of some trees next to what looked like a small park. Across the street was a tall row of hedges that ran the length of the sidewalk completely obscuring whatever was on the other side.

After making certain he was still covered in his cloak he made his way toward a set of ancient-looking arched top wrought iron gates nestled smartly within the thick hedges. Two stone pillars stood on either side of the gates and were topped with miniature medieval looking gargoyles. Both looked like smaller versions of the one that guarded the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

Set in the arched tops of the ornate ironwork of the gates were what appeared to be two bones crossed in an x-pattern signifying Harry was at the right place.

As he made his way toward the gates he spied a thin, bent old man who seemed to be tending to the hedges.

Must be a caretaker...

As he got closer, the old man straightened with much more alacrity then he should for a man his age and it set Harry on edge instantly. His hand twitched for his wand.

The wrinkled old man looked in Harry's direction then muttered, “Who goes there,” in a voice that should have been coming from a bloke half his age. Harry realized at once this was probably one of Kingsley's Aurors in disguise and relaxed, but only slightly.

“I here your footsteps,” the man stated pulling his wand, “Show yourself!”

Harry looked around and could see the street was mostly deserted. There were a few Muggles with their children at the park across the street but none seemed to be paying them any attention. The few cars that passed zipped by much too quickly to pay them any heed. Still, Harry moved off the sidewalk and pressed himself as close to the hedge as he could before removing his cloak.

When the old man spied him he relaxed completely and put his wand away.

“Thought it might be you Mr. Potter but just being cautious, you understand,” the Auror said in a hushed voice, “Kingsley told us to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”

Harry nodded without responding.

“Right, this way then,” the old man said turning. He made his way toward the gates but just before he reached them he stopped at a rather thick section of hedge just to the left of the entrance.

He tapped on a branch three times with his wand. The hedge gave a slight shudder but that was all. Harry simply stood there.

The old man glanced at Harry then grinned, “Just walk right through Mr. Potter, nothing to it. Once on the other side just stick to the path. It will take you where you want to go.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. He took a breath, closed his eyes then leaned into the hedge. He fully expected to feel the branches pull and scrape at him on the way through but was surprised to find he felt only a pleasant waft of cool breeze.

Once he cleared the hedge a wide open expanse spread out before him. Headstones and monuments cluttered the landscape as far as the eye could see on the gently rolling hills. A narrow foot path marked on either side by what looked like a knee-high fence made from human bones wound pell-mell through the graveyard.

It took a better part of twenty minutes to make his way to a slight rise. When he crested the low hill he stepped out into an open area where the ground was covered in lush green grass. The sun overhead was bright. He had to shadow his eyes to see a small group of what he was certain to be witches and wizards off to the left.

As he came closer to the congregation he started seeing a few people he recognized. There was a podium set up behind a casket covered with flowers of all kinds. A wizard photo sat in the center of the arrangement and Colin Creevey's smiling face peered out of the frame laughing, winking and snapping off photos with his ever-present camera.

Harry couldn't help but smile.

Several rows of small white chairs were down in front of the podium and casket. As Harry took a seat in the very last row still hidden beneath his cloak he spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt standing off to the far side of the gathering. He recognized Dennis Creevey sitting in the front row with who Harry assumed was his mother with her arm around Dennis' shoulder.

A young man in an Auror's tunic stepped up next to Kingsley and whispered in his ear. He only nodded and went back to listening to the speaker.

As Harry listened he discovered it was Colin and Dennis' father at the podium. Between fits of weeping and smiles he told everyone what a great son Colin had been. Other's got up and spoke on Colin's behalf.

As Harry sat and listened to Colin's friends and family speak about him, he was getting a bit frustrated. He knew he had no right to feel that way but it seemed to Harry his family and friends were missing a great deal of what Colin's true nature was all about.

He agreed Colin was small and sweet and kind and gentile but there were other more significant sides to the little bloke they hadn't seen.

For the first time in his life, Harry felt compelled to get up, throw off his invisibility cloak and go down there and say what was on his mind. As he sat there thinking he decided to do just that.

Harry stood and slipped the cloak off, folded it and slipped it under his shirt. He then made his way right down the center isle of the service toward the front where a Healer was regaling everyone with a story about patching Colin up after a rather nasty broom accident when he was 12. When he was finished the Healer asked if there was anyone else who would like to say something. Harry piped up.

“I would like to say something if I may, sir.”

As the crowd turned to see who had spoken it was if they had all been hit with a mass Petrificus Totalus.

Harry stepped up to the podium, tried to collect his thoughts and calm his nerves. He knew he had no gift for making speeches and wasn't as cleaver as Hermione or witty as Ron so he decided to speak from his heart.

As he looked out over the small stunned group sitting before him, he realized there was absolute silence. It seemed even the breeze stopped blowing.

“I…I've been listening to the things everyone has been saying about Colin today and I think they are all very nice…”

Harry swallowed nervously. His throat suddenly seemed as dry as two year old parchment left in the sun.

“But the Colin I knew was much more than innocent and sweet and kind. He was also one of the bravest blokes I've ever met.”

There was a collective gasp.

“That's right. Colin might have been small but he had the heart of a Gryffindor Lion. I saw it first hand.”

“When I first met Colin his first year I must admit I was a bit annoyed with him at times. He was always taking pictures of me with that camera of his. I think he thought of me as some kind of hero or something. But as it turned out, that camera saved his life from a Basilisk.”

A ripple of shock ran through the group.

“As time went on I got to know Colin a bit better and I guess he decided I wasn't much different than anyone else and calmed down a bit. He was so funny some times. But the thing I remember most about Colin was his strength and courage.”

Harry glanced at Colin's mother and father and his younger brother Dennis as they sat there in disbelief that The Savior of the Wizarding World was actually in front of them saying these things about their son and brother. It made his insides squirm a bit but Harry was determined.

“In our fifth year, the Ministry took over Hogwarts for part of the school year. They didn't want us to learn defensive magic because they were unwilling to believe Voldemort had returned. I guess we all know now they were wrong.”

“So some of us got together and created a club of sorts. It was banned by the new administration but we didn't care. We wanted to learn how to defend ourselves. It was a great risk to do this but we were determined. We called it Dumbledore's Army…”

Some in the crowd nodded their heads in recognition of the story Harry was telling and his brother Dennis, who was also in the club, beamed at Harry and gave him a thumbs up. He pressed on.

“We would meet once a week in a special place in Hogwarts and practice defensive magic until we learned as much as we could. I tell you about this because I want you to know that Colin and Dennis were very much a part of our group. Colin was always the first to show up and usually the last to leave. He would help us prepare for our lessons, stand lookout or do anything we asked of him.”

“No-one worked harder and wanted to learn more than Colin. He was fearless and threw himself into every lesson completely.”

Harry smiled as he looked down at the podium as a fond memory of Colin filled his mind. He had to tell it.

“Once when we were practicing disarming jinxes, I was partnered with Colin. He was trying so hard. He tried to hit me with an expelliarmus. It backfired slightly, knocked poor Colin quite off his feet and tossed him into the fireplace. We all rushed to extract him from the floo but by then the back of his head was smoldering and his jumper was on fire.”

He could here the tittering and cackles of laughter at the anecdote.

“He wasn't hurt but he jumped right up telling everyone he was fine smoking like a steaming bowl of porridge. That's just the way Colin was. He was tough and he never gave up. He volunteered for everything. He had more grit than any of us.”

“I stand up here today to say goodbye to a good friend. Colin Creevey was my friend. I had a lot of respect for him. But as I stand here I can't feel sorrow or regret. If I do then it will make Colin's sacrifice seem pointless. So the best thing I can do is remember him for what he was.”

“Colin was honest to a fault, tougher than a bloke twice his size and braver then all of us. He gave his life so we could be free. Thank you for allowing me to know you Colin. I'll never forget what you've done for us all.”

With that Harry stepped away from the podium and went over to Colin's casket. He placed his hand on the cold metal lid.

Many of Colin's relatives came to Harry's side. His mother held Harry tightly thanking him for his wonderful words. Harry took the time to shake every hand and accept every embrace before he decided it was time to leave.

Before departing he thanked Kingsley. Kingsley took Harry's hand in a firm shake.

“That was a wonderful thing you did Harry,” Kingsley smiled warmly, “It will be a long time before those people forget those words.”

Harry looked at Kingsley for a moment.

“That's good,” Harry said, “Because they were all true.”

Kingsley reached into his robe and produced a folded piece of parchment and handed it to Harry.

“Enchanted guest list for the Lupin-Tonks service,” he said, “You'll need it to get in. There's going to be quite a few dignitaries there as well as the Minister. Security's going to be tight. Present that to any guard and you'll be admitted without any trouble.” He turned to go but then stopped and looked back at Harry, “I don't think you'll need to hide under your cloak this time Harry.”

Harry nodded.

With that he turned on the spot and went back to Grimmuald Place to make ready for Dora and Remus' service.

---@>---

Hermione was in a daze. When she apparated into the kitchen at #12 she hoped to drop right into the midst of Harry and the boisterous gaggle of homeless Weasleys but instead all she encountered was the utter silence of an empty room.

She wondered where everyone could be. She thought they may have gone to Ottery St. Catchpole to work on mending the Burrow or maybe they were still at St. Mungo's.

She wondered if she should just go to her parents place and clean up a bit. She was still wearing the same clothes she had on when they faced down Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She had cleaned them since but she still wanted to change. A long soak in her own bathtub at home sounded good…

…But I really need to see my boys right now…I need them.

As she stood in the middle of the silent kitchen she spotted the Daily Prophet sitting folded on the nicked and scarred old table. With a sigh she plopped down on the bench and unfolded it without much interest.

Normally she thought it important to stay abreast of the latest news and happenings in the wizarding world but since the death of Voldemort, the subsequent disintegration of the Death Eaters and the problems with her parents it just didn't seem all that important.

As soon as her eyes landed on the bottom of the front page she froze. It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over her head.

Ron Weasley's contorted face looked up at her as that…that little blond tart smiled and waved out from under his arm.

If there was ever a moment in her life when she could have raised her wand to utterly destroy another human it was at that moment.

Hermione's face flushed hot and her ears burned. Tears of anger and frustration blurred her vision. She closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she dropped the paper back on the table like it had burned her hands. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Only a small part of her wanted to read the accompanying article to make certain she was not jumping to conclusions but the rest of her just wanted to throw up.

Her stomach twisted violently. She realized she'd had little to eat in the last few days. With an angry swish of her hand she turned the front page over so it covered Ron's ridiculously vapid image.

When she glanced at the small headline on the inside of the first page she saw that Mr. Weasley had been nominated and then chosen for the Minister for Magic post. He had chosen his son, Percy Weasley as Under-Secretary. The story directly below it tagged Kingsley Shacklebolt Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

At least there's some positive news.

She suddenly decided she was not going to let the exploits of Ron Bilius Weasley drag her emotions down any further then they already were. She had too many other much more important things to worry about. She had research to do, she had a list to reconstruct and she had to get her parent's house in order for when they were ready to come home. She had their Dental practice to re-open and she had no time for the stupid, juvenile antics of a boy who refused to be responsible for anything.

Just as she jumped up from the table to leave she heard the front door open. As she heard Harry's voice calling for Kreacher, the wrinkled old Black matriarch's curtains that covered her portrait flew open and she tore into Harry with her usual vitriolic diatribe wailing at the top of her lungs.

Hermione dashed to the steps that led up from the kitchen into the hall just in time to see Harry swipe his wand at the curtains cutting the hateful old woman off mid-insult with nothing more than an irritated wrinkle on his brow.

As he moved down the hallway she saw he was looking at a piece of paper in his hand and didn't notice her standing there.

He was wearing what she knew were the only nice clothes he owned which could mean only one of three things…He was either at some sort of hearing in front of the Wizengamot, had just attended a wedding or he had just come from a funeral. Those were the only occasions that would cause Harry bloody Potter to dress up.

The Yule Ball didn't count…He hadn't really wanted to go to that.

For reasons she could not at that moment identify the frustrations and anger she was just experiencing seemed to ease as she watched him moving toward her.

“I think it's well past time to do away with that barmy old hag's portrait isn't it Harry?”

Harry looked up a bit startled but he knew the voice at once.

“Hermione,” he exclaimed as a huge smile exploded across his face, but as he took in her emaciated and disheveled appearance his smile slid right off like someone had smacked him, “You loo…what's wrong? Are you alright?”

The alarm in Harry's voice startled her quite a bit. She had not looked at herself in a mirror since she left the Prefect's bath at Hogwarts. She just shrugged her shoulder, “I've been better,” was all she said.

To Harry it looked as if she hadn't eaten in days. The dark bruises under her eyes looked almost painful. Her hair was a mess and her clothes looked as if she had worn them while being put through a mangle to wring them out.

“What's going on,” Harry moved forward and took her hand. It was cold, “Did you get your parents back from Australia alright?”

Hermione ignored the barrage of questions with a shrug of her shoulders.

Harry called Kreacher again. This time the old house elf appeared down in the kitchen.

“Is there something you require ma…Harry Potter?” Kreacher asked.

Harry pulled Hermione along with him and she reluctantly followed. When Harry saw the copy of the Prophet open on the table he knew right away she had seen Ron's front page picture. He would address that later. He was much more worried about her condition.

“Hermione you look like your starving. Have a spot of lunch with me, won't you?”

Just the thought of food made her ill but she knew she needed to get something in her stomach. She couldn't keep going like she had been. She had much to do so she reluctantly agreed.

They decided on something light. Kreacher suggested a hardy beef broth soup with veggies and fresh baked bread.

“That's fine Kreacher, thank you,” Hermione said without much enthusiasm.

As she sat with Harry at the table she glanced at the Daily Prophet then back at Harry quickly.

“So,” she asked looking at her hands, “have you seen the brainless oaf?”

“No Hermione,” Harry replied not needing to ask who she was referring to, “not since we left Hogwarts.”

She didn't inquire any further and Harry got the impression by the dark look on her face she didn't really want to so he changed the subject.

He told her about Colin Creevey's funeral and about the Tonks/Lupin service later that afternoon. Hermione let her head fall into her hands feeling ashamed.

“I've forgotten completely about the services,” she moaned, “I feel so embarrassed.”

“Nonsense, Hermione,” Harry said, “Everyone knows you've been busy getting your parents situated. That can't be an easy task. You've got people helping you don't you?”

If you only knew!

She only nodded. She had no desire to go into details about her troubles. She had no desire to talk about much of anything she had been through over the past several days.

The smell of the soup and fresh baked rolls permeated the kitchen. Hermione found her hunger returning with a vengeance. When her stomach made a loud rumbling sound that made her and Harry laugh Kreacher was sliding two good-sized bowls of the soup in front of them and a carving board with a sliced loaf of steaming bread slathered with butted landed gently between them.

The first spoon-full of soup with the tender chopped vegetables made her almost weep.

“Oh Kreacher,” Hermione moaned, “This is so good. It's exactly what I needed. Thank you so much!”

Kreacher bowed low looking very pleased with himself.

“Yes Kreacher, thank you,” Harry added.

“It is my pleasure Mistress, Harry Potter,” he croaked, “Enjoy.”

Harry couldn't help but watch Hermione devour the soup. He had never seen her so put out before. He knew there was more than what she was telling but decided whatever it was could wait. He wasn't going to pressure her to talk. He figured if she wanted to she would in her own time. She usually did anyway.

Another full bowl of the delicious soup and several pieces of warm, buttery bread later Hermione leaned back with her hands on her tummy.

“Better?” Harry asked chuckling slightly.

“Merlin yes,” she whispered, “thank you Harry. I can always count on you to know what's best for me can't I.”

That statement surprised him for a moment then he regarded it.

“Erm…Not really Hermione,” he said matter-of-factly, “It's usually the other way round. It's us who seem to always count on you to know what's best. That's the way it's been since I can remember but it's nice to be able to return the favor now and again.”

She looked down into the empty bowl. Harry saw such a deep look of sadness in her eyes he almost said something.

“I'm not sure I would be the one to count on now Harry,” she whispered cryptically. It was almost as if she were speaking to herself.

Harry was becoming even more concerned but he forced himself to keep his raging curiosity in check.

“I would like to go to the service with you this afternoon if that's alright Harry?”

“Of course it's alright Hermione,” Harry replied.

She wanted to ask the obvious question but decided it was none of her business. It surprised her Ginny wasn't there with him at that very moment and she found it a bit surprising but with everything going on she figured there had to be a reasonable explanation. She was just grateful she had someone to turn to even if it was just to share some space and some really scrumptious nosh.

She knew she had so much to do but going to the funeral felt necessary. She was lost in her overwhelming things to do list when Harry's voice cut across her silent reverie.

“Maybe you should try and take a kip before the service this afternoon Hermione,” he said, trying to be nonchalant about it, “No offense but you really look like you could use the rest. Service doesn't start `till six.”

Hermione looked at the clock on the mantle. It was almost eleven. She just shook her head.

“I'm fine Harry,” trying to convince herself more than him, “I know I look a fright. I just need a nice hot bath and some clean clothes. I still have a few things back to my parent's house so I'll just nip over there and meet you back here at about five, ok?”

Harry nodded and stood up. Kreacher began clearing the table. Hermione rose and went to Kreacher. She bent down and placed a kiss on the top of his wrinkled old head.

“Thank you Kreacher,” she smiled.

Kreacher bowed again as Hermione readied herself to apparate.

“See you at five then,” Harry said.

With a loud pop she was gone.

---@>---

During her first term at Hogwarts, Muggle-born witch Hermione Granger, then just 11 years old had wanted to experiment with all manor of spells, charms, incantations and magic from the very day she received her wand but the Reasonable Restriction for the Use of Underage Magic had prevented it and since she lived in an all Muggle community it made things even more difficult. It was then she asked Professor McGonagall if there was any way around that restriction.

After several inquiries to then Cornelius Fudge's Ministry she was informed if she could show just cause for performing such magic in a Muggle setting she may be granted special permission but she'd have to have a very good reason.

After a twenty-one page dissertation on the benefits of practicing magic away from Hogwarts and two meetings with the Wizengamot, Hermione Jean Granger had been granted a limited permit to practice her magic within her home but only when Muggles were not present and she had to agree to tell no one. The secret had been protected by the Fidelius charm. Her parents didn't count because they already knew about her magic.

Hermione was the first and likely only student in history to have ever been granted such a privilege. Even the likes of Albus Dumbledore had never been granted access to underage magic outside of school.

As a result, after years of practice, study, application and trial and error, there were only two other places in Great Briton safer than and as impenetrable as the Granger house. They were Gringotts Wizard Bank and Hogwarts itself.

Much to her dismay, however both the wizard bank and Hogwarts had been breeched by intruders. One she was personally involved in. It was partly as a result of the continued breaches of defense at Hogwarts she had made the decision to move her parents.

Besides, most of her experiments have gone largely untested against a real threat so she decided not to take any chances with her parent's lives.

Although for the common wizard and/or Muggle burglar, the Granger home would be a very bad place to try and get into.

As a result of her experiments no-one was allowed to apparate into or near the house. All manner of traps were in place for any who tried to gain entry without permission and the floo had been warded against being connected to any other.

If that wasn't enough, if one did manage to gain entry and were still alive, there were charms and spells in place to trap them there so they couldn't get out.

Now, as she approached the house from the back yard she began removing the many wards and curses that permeated the residence. She felt there was no longer a need for such protection at present.

I'd like to see a Death Eater try to get in just now!

In her present state of mind it would be a fatal mistake.

As she made her way through the dark and silent house she had grown up in she continued to remove the many traps and spells she had so diligently placed throughout.

Once she reached her bedroom she pulled open the door. She was instantly attacked by the incantation of a huge, vicious slobbering guard dog with a nasty spiked dog collar.

It knocked her to the floor pinning her arms with its massive paws. As the beast leaned forward drooling slobber all over her shirt it was about to take a bit out of her neck.

“SPELLMAN'S SYLLABARY!” Hermione yelled.

The guard dog vanished in a puff of white smoke. She lay there on the floor shaking and panting, trying to get her pounding heart back under control.

Forgot about that one!

Once she managed to get back to her feet she made her way through her room and collected some clothes. She decided to dress for comfort.

She selected one of her most comfortable pair of blue jeans, a white cotton button-up blouse, her well worn cotton briefs and her favorite sports bra (no binding and really good support…not that there was all that much to support), thick ankle-high socks (the ones with hippogriffs embroidered on them) and her most favorite white trainers.

As she moved to the closet to find a light jacket she spied the picture hanging just over the lamp next to her canopy bed.

It was a copy of a picture Colin Creevey had taken of the three of them in the Gryffindor common room just after they had won the Quidditch cup. She reached up and pulled the picture down and settled on the edge of her bed.

Her fingers glided gently over the photo.

Tears came unbidden, splashing on the glass as she tried to remembered a time when things were simpler, when things were much less complicated and all she had to worry about was grades and essays and… but the truth was there had never been a simpler time.

Their lives at Hogwarts had always been filled with solving mysteries and narrow escapes, figuring out puzzles and riddles that meant the difference between life and death.

She suddenly realized it hadn't been bad luck or the misfortunes of fate; it had been a conscious choice from that very first day on the Hogwarts Express. She could have just as easily walked right past that compartment and ignored her curiosity. She could have been just like any other young student of magic.

As she watched the laughing, beaming face of Ron Weasley cheering for his best mate she tried to understand how it had all gone so horribly wrong. She wanted to convince herself there were things happening that were beyond her control but she knew better.

It was the choices one made that caused actions and reactions to the things around them. She knew her choice to remain at Hogwarts with Harry had hurt Ron. She didn't want to think her decision had caused him to go spinning off out of control. After all he had done and said some pretty ugly things to her over the years but as much as she disliked admitting it she knew her choice had contributed.

She made a decision right then she would try to mend the damage, irregardless of the results she had to try and find a way to pull them back together if it were possible. They had gone through too much and been friends too long to let this rift continue to widen between them.

With her decision lightening her heavy heart just a little she made her way through a long, soaking bath and then a quick shower to rinse off the bath oils. She took a bit of extra time with her hair and even applied a bit of muggle makeup to try and hide the dark circles under her eyes.

Even though she had decided to dress casual and comfortable she opted for her best dress robe for the service. She slipped it and her light jacket into a small Muggle back pack.

As she folded her dress robe neatly she spied her little beaded bag she had used to carry all their essentials during the hunt for the Horcruxes laying on her dresser. She realized she hadn't even unpacked it yet. She moaned. It was just one more thing she had to add to her ever-growing list of things she needed to do.

She spent the rest of the time drifting through the house planning how she was going to put things back together and clean it all up. There wasn't much to do really, a handy dust repellant spell had kept most everything clean, restocking the ice box and pantry with perishables and removing the sheets that covered everything was about the extent of it but would still take time.

She needed to be researching a solution to her parent's memory problems but she knew she would have to prioritize. Somewhere within all those things she needed to do she would have to find time to sleep, eat and do a better job of taking care of herself.

At five p.m. she went back out the back door and into the yard. She replaced a few of her stronger wards on the house then went back to #12.

---@>---

When Ron arrived in Diagon Alley he was almost shaking with dread at the thought of facing his family. He knew his much publicized nocturnal activity had caused an enormous stink with everyone judging by the tone and severity of the howler.

As he stood looking at the front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes he decided there was no sense in delaying the inevitable so he strode inside, head held high like he owned the place.

To his relief, the shop was crowded as usual. He spotted George and Lee right away but didn't recognize the other two wearing the unmistakable Wheezes smocks.

As he elbowed his way toward the sales counter Lee was the first to look up and spot him.

“Well…well…well,” Lee said, nudging George who was assisting a customer, “the Prodigal idiot has decided to show his well photographed mug!”

“Bugger off Lee,” Ron sneered.

George looked at Ron with eyebrows raised.

“Lad,” he said sternly, “You have absolutely no idea how much trouble you're in do you?”

Ron just shrugged. His insides were twisting into knots but he decided he wasn't going to let these two bait him into an argument. He still felt the twinges of the previous night's bender and his head still throbbed slightly.

“Mum sent me a howler that almost burned down a bloody flat,” he eyed George wearily, “so I think I have an idea.”

George and Lee laughed loudly at that.

“I could just imagine,” George chuckled, “Well I guess that takes the Mickey out of anything I could add to it. You look like something a cat puked up,” he reached behind the counter and came back with a key in his hand. He tossed it to Ron, “Flat number two is yours to use for now. Mum made me promise to put you up until they decide what to do with you. All I know, you better stay put if you know what's good for you.”

Ron bristled at the thought his mother was treating him like a child but after all the ridiculous public attention he decided to make as little noise as possible. He took the key and was about to mention he didn't have any of his things and didn't even really remember where they were when George seemed to read his thoughts.

“You can thank Dad and Ginny for collecting you things. Dad got your trunk from Hogwarts and Ginny and Dean went by the Burrow and scraped together what they could salvage from the destruction. Isn't much but it's probably more then what you had the last few days.”

“Right,” Ron replied glumly, “thanks.”

“Hey, don't thank me,” George laughed, “I'm following orders just like you. Just so you know, the Tonks/Lupin funeral service is being held this evening at 6:00 and we're going to lay Fred to rest in the old garden at the Burrow at midnight tonight. I think Charlie, Bill and Percy are already over there.”

Ron nodded, “Does this mean mum and dad are going to rebuild the Burrow then?”

George shrugged, “Have no idea but if I had to guess I'd say I doubt it. I heard mum say something about too many memories and she's completely taken with her new digs at the Minister's residence. I think she likes living in London but she won't admit it of course. I know Ginny's bonkers about the new place.”

“Said `it's about time the Weasley's got to hold the non-crappy end of the stick for a change',” Lee added laughing, “One of the funniest things I've ever heard her say!”

Ron made no comment and turned to go to his flat when Lee moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. He moved close to Ron and dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Say Ron. I was just wondering. Who was that bird you were with the other night. I swear I recognize her from somewhere but I just can't quite recall. She's quite a looker.”

Ron was beginning to get a bit angry. He frowned at Lee for a moment not really sure how he should answer but he was in no mood for Lee's nonsense.

“Look, I don't know,” Ron replied, “I really don't care to talk about it right now.” He turned and left the shop.

Once he had let himself into the flat he looked around for a bit then began sorting through his things to find something half-way decent to put on. After a much needed shower he dressed in a pair of dark brown corduroys and a blue and gold striped shirt with the Gryffindor coat of arms on the left breast pocket. He had found packages of new socks and boxers and silently blessed whoever had got them for him. Mum…of course!

After he was dressed he stood at the window looking out over the small alley that ran beside the shop.

He thought about Hermione for the first time in what seemed like days. He still felt a twinge of anger at her for running off but he simply resigned himself to believe she had felt the replacement of the Elder Wand more important. He wondered where she could be at the moment…then the realization that her parents were still in Australia finally occurred to him.

Of course!

He thumped his forehead with the heal of his hand. She was off getting her parents back or maybe they were already back and she was with them now. That would explain a lot.

He wondered if Harry had gone with her. The only mention of either one of them in the Prophet was to comment on their seemingly complete absence from the wizard world. He wondered if he should try and find them and explain. He knew Hermione wouldn't understand. She would be angry with him like always but then that seemed to be the way things had always been between them. He would do or say something stupid and she would be angry and act like she didn't care. The constant tension between them had shifted only for that brief moment at Hogwarts during the final confrontation but it must not have been enough to erase years of being at odds with one-another. He realized with a heavy heart he had been mostly responsible for it. He realized his behavior over the last few days would be the final straw as far as he and Hermione were concerned…he knew that.

He thought about Cassandra and how she had looked when he first opened his eyes that morning, the slender arch of her back, the taught rounded curve of her delectable bum. He couldn't seem to shut the images out of his mind.

As he stood there lost in his recollection he almost jumped right out of his trainers when an owl slammed beak-first into the closed window with a loud bang. The owl fluttered dizzily outside the window for a moment until Ron threw open the sash. It then zoomed in and crashed on the floor at Ron's feet. He plucked the note attached to its leg as the small owl wobbled around in a circle trying to regain its balance.

Ron opened the note and read…

Ronny,

I miss you soooo much love! I really want to see you.

Megan and I will be in London later on this afternoon.

Please meet us at the Leakey Cauldron! We'll be there

at about 6 o'clock tonight. Please, please please…Ronny!

I would really like to pick up where we left off last night

if you know what I'm saying? Until then love…

Cassie

Ron's face flushed hot at the thought of what she meant. He thought about what his mother would say but he suddenly didn't care. Cassandra really liked him and he really liked her. His hormones were raging almost beyond his control at the thought of her half-naked form lying next to him on her bed. He knew exactly what he was going to do…

I'm not a bloody kid anymore. I'm an adult now aren't I? Time to make my own decisions…

--@>--

The Lupin/Tonks funeral was much as Harry had expected. When he and Hermione arrived they were immediately approached by Aurors. The guest list Kingsley had given him was scanned with wands for authenticity. When it was discovered Hermione didn't possess a copy Kingsley was summoned at once.

As soon as the Head Auror saw Hermione he magically added her name to Harry's copy and they were allowed in.

Everyone who was anyone in the English wizard world was there. Almost the entire Ministry of Magic was present along with every member of the Wizengamot. Surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix were conversing with the staff of Hogwarts. They even spotted who Hermione had guessed were some of Remus' werewolf acquaintances. They looked dark and menacing but were trying to make an effort to be cordial. There were a few members of the original D.A. but they were aware of one glaring exception. Ron Weasley was no-where to be seen.

As Harry and Hermione made their way through the crowded reception they heard a very familiar voice.

“Hello Hermiown,” the voice said, “It is good to see you again.”

Viktor Krum materialized out of the crowd to stand like a baleful buzzard at Hermione's left elbow. Harry watched as the Quidditch star's eyes slid up and down Hermione's form. Something inside Harry suddenly burned with indignation but he stamped it down with effort.

“You haff…changed,” Viktor drawled.

Hermione was so surprised by his sudden appearance she actually took a step backward physically wincing away from her old acquaintance. As soon as she realized it she felt slightly ashamed of herself for her reaction.

“Viktor!” Hermione squeaked, “It's…it's good to see you!” She tried desperately to recover by moving forward and giving him a loose embrace. Viktor responded by grasping Hermione's waist with both hands and kissing both cheeks. Hermione reddened instantly.

“I vish ve could haff met again under better circumstances but I am glad to see you again just the same,” he said as he reluctantly released her. His doleful gaze fell on Harry who was standing slightly back from them. Viktor thrust a hand toward him.

“Harry Potter,” Viktor attempted his version of a smile as he shook Harry's hand, “It is good to see you again as vell. You are spoken of as a hero in my country as is Hermiown and Ronald Veesly,” his glance back toward Hermione could only be described as hungry. It made Harry a bit uneasy but he forced himself to smile.

“Erm…thanks Viktor but really,” Harry replied, “we just did what had to be done and we certainly couldn't have done it alone.”

Viktor gave him a stiff nod.

“Vere is your red-haired companion?” He asked that more of Hermione than Harry.

Hermione just grimaced and shrugged looking a bit embarrassed and distant for a moment, “I'm not really sure,” she mumbled but then recovered some semblance of a hollow smile.

Viktor's expression seemed to change from grave reflection to a barely veiled look of wonton desire. Just then an inhumanly beautiful blond girl sidled up next to Viktor's side slipping her arm possessively into his. Viktor seem to stiffen and Hermione's eyebrows seem to disappear into her bangs.

Viktor glanced at the girl with what could only be described as a look of annoyance.

“Hermiown,” Viktor said a bit darkly, “I vould like to introduce Evanova Getrenovich. She is…”

The girl interrupted Viktor and held out a limp hand to Hermione…

“I am Viktor's fiancée,” she smiled a rather deviously, “Ve are to be married in zee spring.”

Harry watched as Hermione's appearance of slightly uncomfortable but pleasant surprise shift almost imperceptibly to the look of vapid, cold indifference in the blink of an eye. There were very few who could have even recognized the change in her demeanor but Harry had known her far too long not to recognize those subtle shifts in her moods.

As he stood there watching the rather uncomfortable exchange Viktor's comment about Hermione looking different suddenly struck him.

Hermione had changed. She seemed a bit taller than he realized. Her hair now hung to her lower back and was much less frizzy than it always seemed to be. It was a mane of shiny, controlled curls and waves that spilled over her shoulders framing her lovely features.

The girlish smattering of light freckles that crossed the bridge of her tiny nose seemed to be gone now and the juvenile slope of her shoulders was replaced by the squared look of maturity and strength.

She wore a hint of what he thought was makeup. He had seen his Aunt Petunia apply gobs of the stuff on her face. It sometime made his hideous Aunt look more like a clown but not on Hermione. She looked…older…more mature than he could remember ever seeing her. The close fit of her clothes accentuated aspects of her form he had never recalled seeing before that moment.

For the first time in his memory he looked at Hermione Granger not as the brilliant, bossy little Muggle-born witch who had been by his side for the past eight years…she was a woman…and despite her rather poor physical condition at the moment…she was beautiful!

When he had snapped out of his reverie he realized Viktor had leaned in close to Hermione once again, clasping both her hands in his and kissed her on both cheeks again. He then gave Harry another stiff nod, looped his arm back into his fiancée's, turned and left without a backward glance.

Harry kept his eyes on Hermione's face as she watched the two walk away. Her face was a mask of indifference but her brown eyes could not hide the whirling storm of emotions that raged behind them. For just a brief moment more he watched as what he thought could have been outrage or betrayal or maybe even a hint of jealousy flash across her eyes but in the next moment it was as if she had come to a decisive internal conclusion. In a blink all emotions were gone and there was nothing left but a complete sense of emptiness.

It was that more than anything that shocked Harry and a cold chill ran down his spine. There was no despair or sadness or even anger any longer…there was just nothing!

He wanted to say something to her. He wanted to reassure her of…of what? Hermione turned toward him and they continued on moving almost mechanically. She acted as if nothing had happened as they found their seats for the ceremony and settled in.

As the ceremony began Hermione spotted Ginny seated with her mother, Dean Thomas was on her other side and Seamus Finnegan sat beside Dean. She thought it rather curious the youngest Weasley seemed to have little interest in Harry at all. She would steel a glance back at him every so often and the look on her face seemed to be one of sadness. It left Hermione with more questions than answers.

Between speakers Hermione finally plucked up enough courage and asked him.

“Harry,” she whispered, “are you and Ginny at odds or something?”

Harry suddenly looked as if he had been punched in the chest to get his attention.

“No,” his brows pinched together but then when he glanced at the back of the redhead he seemed to blush, “truth is I haven't seen her since we left Hogwarts. I just figured with everything that's been going on with Fred, her dad's new post and…” he was about to say Ron's foray into the boundaries of complete stupidity but refrained, “she's just needed time to sort it all out…I guess.”

Hermione just looked at him with that empty, blank expression again but said nothing more about it. She simply didn't have the energy to consider it further at the moment.

Many Ministry people and a few members from the Order stood up and spoke on the behalf of Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks and her father Ted. Mr. Weasley, acting in the capacity of Minister for Magic was the final speaker. When he had finished with a tearful and heart felt speech he then posthumously awarded Dora and Remus the Order of Merlin First Class and Ted received the Order Second Class.

After the ceremony concluded Hermione was out of her seat and making her way toward the exit before Harry even realized she had got up.

He managed to catch up to her just as Molly stepped in their path.

“Oh Harry dear,” she blustered slightly, “How are you and Hermione…” The Weasley matriarch looked Hermione over with appraising concern at her physical condition.

Harry could tell Hermione was forcing herself to remain calm. He could also tell she had little patience for any further confrontations at the moment.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry smiled.

“Harry I just wanted to thank you for your invitation to stay at Grimmuald Place dear. It was ever so kind of you but we simply felt you needed some peace and quiet without all of us blustering about…”

“That's ridiculous Mrs. Weasley,” Harry winced a bit uncomfortably, “After all you've done for me over the years it was the very least I could do.”

“That's so very thoughtful of you,” and with a sniffle she pulled Harry into a bone crushing hug. Then she turned her attention to Hermione who seemed to go completely rigid when Molly wrapped the surprised girl in her ample arms, “I'm so very sorry dear.”

She had whispered those words in Hermione's ear and she wasn't sure why but after thinking about it for a moment Molly seemed to be apologizing for her wayward son's behavior.

Hermione simply patted Molly's back unable to come up with an appropriate response.

What the hell am I supposed to say…`That's all right Mrs. Weasley. Everyone knows Ron is a selfish, brainless twit!' or `I'm sure he didn't mean to be completely insensitive…'

Hermione suddenly wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

The next to approach them was Headmistress McGonagall a Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hermione thanked Kingsley again for adding her name to the list but he just waved it off. She also told him she would have the new list shortly. She was headed to her parent's office to start working on it and she hoped to have it finished before Fred's service so she would give it to him then. Kingsley simply nodded.

She asked Minerva how the procedure was coming, as she glanced at a bewildered Harry. The old Professor said things were progressing as planned but no new information was forthcoming. They left things at that and Hermione continued on through the milling throng.

Harry had been lost through the whole conversation but he was intelligent enough to realize his earlier concern that things were not as they seemed was spot on. He caught Hermione gently by the arm and urged her to stop.

“Hermione I know something's wrong,” He asked as undemanding as he could, “Please talk to me.”

Hermione looked back at him over her shoulder. The look of utter sadness was back in her eyes once more. He could see her big brown eyes swimming.

“It's just something I need to deal with alone Harry and truly don't have the time or the patience to go into it all right now. Please try and understand.”

As soon as she had said those things she regretted it. She knew her words would sting him harshly but she simply didn't have the strength to explain. The look on Harry's face told her everything. He looked as if she had slapped him across the face.

Harry got a bit angry then.

“You know,” he said trying to keep his temper, “I remember telling that very same thing to my best friends once and you know what they told me?” he didn't wait for her to respond, “They told me I didn't have to fight that bloody war by myself and they were going with me…like it or not.” He took a deep breath and looked at his shoes, “And you know what,” he sighed, “they were right.”

She couldn't handle any more right now. She felt the edges of her self control crumbling.

“Look, Harry,” she said miserably, “This isn't the same. I have to go. I'll see you at the Burrow.”

She pulled slowly from his grasp and made her way through the exit without looking back. She could not see the look in his eyes without falling to pieces but she told herself it was for the best right now. She needed to stay focused on her tasks ahead. As soon as she had cleared the protection wards she disappeared.

Harry stood there utterly confused. Even though he was surrounded by dozens of people he knew, he felt utterly alone. It was that same emptiness he had felt standing in the hallway at Hogwarts when Hermione and Ron left to go to St. Mungo's.

His best friends…the two people who knew him better than anyone else in the world had gone their separate ways, each with their own troubles to cope with and Harry felt utterly unneeded.

As he stood there trying to figure out a way to get Hermione to let him into her troubled life he felt a tiny warm hand slide into his and entwine their fingers.

He knew that hand instantly because he had felt it many times before. He closed his eyes and hoped this was a sign of what he had hoped for, for months.

She stepped beside him but stayed just out of his field of vision for some reason. He felt her press her cheek against his shoulder.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny whispered softly, “I know you're probably wondering why I haven't been around. I owe you an explanation and I have every intention to talk to you but you must understand. Things have been a bit crazy for me lately and…well…” she paused as if choosing her words carefully, “Right now mum wants to take me to Diagon Alley to get some new clothes before the shops close. I lost almost everything in the fire and we simply haven't had the time to go. I promise I will tell you everything after Fred's funeral tonight…I promise Harry.” She squeezed his hand before he felt it slide from his grasp.

Harry could do nothing more than nod. He felt his stomach roll uncomfortably. He, himself suddenly wanted to be somewhere else at the moment.

-->

10. 10 - The Witching Hour

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N - Please be advised there is some sexual content in this chapter. If you are opposed to such things you might wish to skip over that part but after all that's why this fic carries the rating it does. There will be more. You have been warned. As always thanks for reading and please review.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Ten - The Witching Hour

Hermione stepped into her father's office with all the determination of a young woman on a mission. She flung a hand up, swatting irritably at the light switch on the wall just inside the door. She was still feeling angry and annoyed at Ron's antics. She had decided to read the article that accompanied the ridiculous photo and it hadn't helped.

The thought of him writing a tell-all book with that hag Rita Skeeter made her blood turn to molten lava. He best pray their paths don't cross for a while. She'll make his old slug puking hex look like child's play.

Part of her thought she should have been much more devastated by his antics but the problems with her parent's memories seemed to overshadow everything else. Besides, this wasn't the first time he had done something like this.

What had surprised her more was Ginny. The way she acted at the funeral confused Hermione. It's as if Ginny wanted nothing to do with Harry. She felt bad for him because he really seemed to love the little redhead but apparently it wasn't enough. If that's true Harry was truly alone now.

Well…not exactly. Harry will never be alone if I can help it…

But Hermione was also acutely aware that in the present state of things, she couldn't help Harry much. She couldn't help her parents. She could barely help herself. She couldn't help but feel incensed and betrayed by the Ministry's failure to keep her list safe.

She wanted to scream and rail against those responsible but she realized most of the people involved in her original plans were dead or missing. It wouldn't help anything anyway.

The small office was bathed in the soft white glow of several lamps around the room. She was determined to re-build the missing list even if it took her all night and day. She didn't care. She felt she had done enough damage to her mother and father's lives.

Her fear the list had fallen into the Death Eater's hands made her ill in the extreme but she wanted to believe the security measures she and Professor McGonagall had placed on the document were enough of a deterrent but truthfully she couldn't be sure.

She could no longer be very confident of anything.

She made straight for the large file cabinet that sat in the back corner of the office, waved her wand at the lock securing the files, yanked open the top drawer and began pulling the alphabetically arranged files and placing them in a neat pile on her father's desk.

She produced several sheets of parchment, a few quills and an ink well. She plopped herself into her father's desk chair and bent to work.

This was not new to her. She had done this very thing almost a year ago. She worked as quickly as she could. Her hand flew across the parchment recording each name and address in the file.

There was no need for secrecy or codes this time because she had planned on placing this list into Kingsley Shacklebolt's hands herself. He was aware of what she was doing and why so he was anticipating the information.

Once she was relatively certain the list was complete Kingsley would set the Oblivators and Aurors to work. This was contingent on the ability to find a solution to their memory problems of course. Hermione knew it could take weeks to complete this task but she was absolutely committed to seeing it through even if she had to do it all herself.

Once she finished a stack of files she replaced them back into their respective drawers and pulled a new stack. On her third trip to the file cabinet she slipped the completed files back in the drawer and grabbed a fresh pile.

As she turned to go back to the desk a file slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, scattering its contents. Hermione's irritation spiked as she slammed the other files on the desk with a bang and stooped to clean up her mess.

I really don't need these careless delays…

She scooped up the records and receipts and slipped them back into the folder but as she was doing so the name on the top of the file made her come to a grinding halt.

I know this name! Where have I seen it before?

She closed her eyes and tried desperately to scour her overly-exhausted mind to place the name on the file. It suddenly hit her…

She looked at the contents of the file again praying she was mistaken but as she read the names and ages of the family within her blood turned to an icy sludge in her veins.

…A father, a mother and three children all under the age of ten - two little girls and a boy…a family of five…OH NO!

It was the exact name and description of one of the many Muggle families the Daily Prophet identified as those mysteriously killed or missing during the war. She knew this could not be a coincidence.

The implications of what she was holding in her hands hit Hermione like a sledge hammer to the temple.

Her legs turned to liquid as the rest of her took on the consistency of semi-congealed bubotuber puss. She felt dizzy and weak.

She realized her worst fear. The Death Eaters or maybe even Voldemort himself had managed to decode her list and used it to systematically execute the people it contained. If they had done it to get at her or her parents, it hardly mattered.

She was also aware if she compared these names in her parent's files to those in the Prophet's obituaries, they would probably match exactly.

I'm responsible for the deaths and disappearances of hundreds of Muggles!

Her stomach clenched like an angry fist. Hermione leaned over just in time to empty its contents into a small waste basket sitting next to her father's desk.

As she tried desperately to get a grip on her heaving insides her emotions overcame her. Once again she found herself lying in the fetal position on the floor unable to get control of any part of her.

With her mind completely paralyzed by the realization of what she had done and her body shaking violently with uncontrollable sobs, she could do nothing more than lay there on the dusty carpet and let the insurmountable guilt crush her for the second time in as many days.

She could feel another piece of her falling off. If this kept up there would be nothing left of her.

“How could you have ever believed you were cleverer than those who were so much older and wiser? You're nothing but a fool, you stupid, arrogant little know-it-all…”

The voice that echoed in and around her complete paralysis was one she remembered well. It was Severus Snape himself. She thought it fitting. Her old Potions Professor had never been impressed by books and cleverness.

As she lay there in the shadowed silence of the office another voice filled her tortured mind. It was much stronger then her own convoluted thoughts.

Remember what you told me Hermione? You cannot blame yourself. You were only trying to protect them. Muggles would have died regardless of any list. I won't allow you to do this to yourself and tell me I can't…

She wasn't certain if the voice in her head was a product of her own imagination this time or not.

Get up! You have work to do…

“I don't want to do this any more,” Hermione whispered to the empty room.

So you're just going to give up…That doesn't sound like the Hermione I know…Courage, Granger!

She knew the voice was right. It simply wasn't in her genetic construction to give up. So with a monumental physical effort Hermione heaved herself to a sitting position and leaned against the side of the desk.

She was physically exhausted and drained. Lack of fuel for her body was taking its toll but with the acrid taste of bile now sitting on her tongue, food was the farthest thing from her mind.

Wiping her tears and blubbering nose on the sleeve of her cloak she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, she mechanically returned to the task at hand.

With several more hours of work she managed to complete the list. Hermione returned all the files to their respective drawers in the file cabinet threw a quick scourgifieing charm at the waste basket and left the office.

As she made her way through the streets of Muggle London where her parent's office resided she could see the gold and dark purple of sunset spreading across the edges of the black background of the encroaching darkness.

A chilly breeze danced around her and helped keep her alert. She was well beyond exhaustion but knew she still had much to do. Once she gave the list to Kingsley she was going to have to return to her parent's house to make it ready for their return…if they could return. She was going to have to return to Hogwarts to scour the library for some shred of information that might help her parents. The fact the Unspeakables had found nothing bothered her greatly.

NO! Hermione chastised herself, I will find a solution. I must!

When they had moved Daphne and Edward to Australia, the Ministry shuttered the house. They had also removed anything that was considered perishable and donated it to a near-by Muggle food bank for the poor. They had carefully recorded every detail as they shut the house and office down.

It was now up to Hermione to see that all the details were put back in place. She felt it even more significant now that her mother and father's memories were damaged that everything was put back precisely the way it had been. She was also aware she couldn't keep on going in her present state but the voice that pulled her out of her self-pity in the office spurred her forward.

You are the cleverest witch of your age Hermione! If anyone can fix this…it's you!

But for the first time in her memory the feelings of inadequacy and helplessness hovered like dark shadows just on the periphery of her consciousness. They were concepts as foreign to her sensibilities as not having the correct answer on a test or not being able to find a solution in one of her many books. Fear seemed to be her constant companion now.

She made for the Ministry knowing her parents were still undergoing the C.T. Scan treatment. She determined Kingsley should be there.

After gaining entrance through the red phone box she made her way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The receptionist told her Kingsley was in the Hit Wizard office so she hurried on her way.

She found Kingsley in the midst of a group of Aurors repairing the rather extensive damage and sifting through reams of parchments and documents that were piled everywhere.

Kingsley turned and spotted her as she approached. He offered her a sad smile.

“Ms. Granger,” he said looking a bit surprised at seeing her there so soon.

Hermione held out the list, “Here's the new list Mr. Shacklebolt,” she said but then her face turned grim, “There's something you need to know...”

He looked down at her with concern.

“What is it Ms. Granger?”

“I'm almost certain if you compare some of the names on this list to the list of Muggles murdered or missing at the hands of the Death Eaters you'll discover, as I did, they are one in the same. I think they were able to break the code and use it to systemically eliminate them,” Hermione was beginning to feel sick again, “I'm sorry Mr. Shacklebolt. It's my fault.”

Kingsley looked at her shocked for a moment but then realized what she was saying. He knew all too well how the Death Eaters had worked their evil. He was well aware how Voldemort had used doubt and fear and mistrust to get the upper hand in his attempts to gain power. He knew at once the existence of a list of names made little difference and the outcome would have been much the same either way. Muggles would have still died regardless.

“Ms. Granger,” he said calmly, seeing the fear and dread in her eyes, “I am absolutely certain you are intelligent enough to know that irregardless of the existence of this list it made little difference in the outcome. You must not blame yourself…”

Hermione made to protest but Kingsley laid his large hand gently on her shoulder.

“I think your energy would be much more wisely spent on caring for your mother and father at this point wouldn't you agree?”

She could only nod. Her throat had seemed to seize up with guilt. She wanted to believe he was right but she could not seem to shake the knowledge she had still been somehow responsible.

“Your parents,” Kingsley went on, “are scheduled to return to St. Mungo's in the morning at approximately 9:00 a.m. You will want to be there I'm sure but I highly recommend you get some rest between now and then young lady. You look strained to the limit.”

Again Hermione only nodded. He was right but the thought of sleeping or eating for that matter felt like an utter waste of time right now. She wanted to find an answer. She was determined to find it…even if it killed her.

As she made her way out of the Ministry she remembered the service for Fred at the Burrow at midnight. She knew trying to start researching tonight would be pointless. She was exhausted so she decided to return to her parents, get some rest if she could and try to make a plan…

---@>---

Ron Weasley stood near the rear entrance to the Leaky Cauldron in turmoil plagued by anxiety and a touch of guilt. The lure of Cassandra's owl was just too great.

He had snuck out of his flat while George and the others were still busy with the shop and apparated just outside Dervish and Bangs. He was still a bit shaky when it came to aparating and with his nerves so jumbled he managed to land in a refuse bin near the rear of the shop.

I'm really going to have to work on that whole `destination' thing!

Once he had extricated himself from the bin he scurried as quickly and unobtrusively as he could toward the wizard pub with as little attention as he could manage. That moment he really appreciated the usefulness of Harry's invisibility cloak but the use of a hooded jumper at least helped hide his flaming red hair.

As he was about to step into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron he felt a large, hard hand fall on his shoulder.

“Hold on there, you,” Ron turned to stare at a rather tall man with a serious look on his face. Ron noticed the Auror's tunic at once and turned to stone with dread, “What's the meaning of skulking about…,” the Auror took in Ron's appearance then opened his eyes a bit wider with recognition, “You're one of new Minister's brood aren't you, the one that's been in the Prophet the last few days?”

“Erm…” Ron's brain seemed to jamb.

“What's with the cloak and dagger twaddle?” The Auror asked but then something seemed to dawn on him and the man's face broke out in a knowing grin, “Trying not to draw any attention to yourself, aren't you? Can't say I blame you but if you're trying to be less conspicuous you might want to stay away from places like this,” the man jabbed his wand toward the pub.

Ron thought quickly. He remembered what it was like when they had been captured by the Snatchers and how quickly Hermione came up with her idea to protect Harry and his story about being Stan Shunpike. A thought occurred to him immediately.

“Just going in for a spot of dinner that's all,” Ron lied, “Really hungry, you know?” He patted his stomach.

The Auror seemed satisfied with that and let Ron continue on his way. He hastily stole into the rear entrance of the Leaky Cauldron and immediately saw the place was packed as usual.

The pub was filled with singing, cheering and raucous laughter. As Ron made his way around the outer edges of the room he finally spotted Cassandra's curly blond head at the far end of the bar. She was sitting talking to several older wizards and they all seemed to be standing very close to her. One of the blokes reached up and tweaked her cute little nose and she giggled madly looking coy in response.

Something raged inside Ron's chest. He felt his face grow hot suddenly as he made his way over to her. But when Cassandra caught sight of him moving through the crowd she squealed his name with delight throwing herself off the stool and pushed her way through the crowd toward him.

When she got close enough she threw her arms around his neck and snogged him madly right in the middle of the bar.

“Oh Ronny,” Cassie gushed, “I've missed you so much!”

“Cassandra,” Ron replied incredulously, “It's been less then a day!”

She shrugged her shoulders and kissed him again.

When she finally let him come up for air he glanced over to where she had been sitting. The three blokes she left behind looked quite disappointed as they watched her snog Ron. That made the tightness in his chest completely disappear.

Cassandra giggled madly as she towed Ron by the hand toward the bar. She wedged herself between a very tall hag on one side and a small group of Goblins on the other. The Goblin nearest to them gave them a distrustful snarl at being interrupted. Ron gave the grotesque looking creature an apologetic smile.

“Oy Tom?” Cassandra yelled smacking the bar with her hand.

The bent old barkeep came over and offered her what could only be described as a knowing grin. “Yes my dear what can I do for you?”

“Bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses please,” Cassie replied smiling, “Is it alright if I take them up?”

“Certainly my dear,” Tom croaked as he handed the bottle and glasses over, “Want me to put this on the room tab then?”

“Sure,” Cassandra replied.

Tom the barkeep eyed Ron with great interest. He was certain the old man recognized him but his leering gaze returned to Cassandra landing in the vicinity of her breasts.

“Captured you a trophy tonight egh love?” Tom laughed.

“Tom!” Cassie said with surprise but then blushed deep red, “Behave yourself you old sot.”

With that Cassandra turned away from the bar. She handed the glasses to Ron then, grabbing his other hand, towed him toward the stairs that went up to the rooms above the pub. As they moved away from the noise Ron's brain began to process what was going on. Cassandra must have let a room here and she was taking him up to it!

His nerves began to show just how uncertain he was about all this but his curiosity was much stronger. He managed to propel himself forward none the less.

As they made the landing on the second floor he needed to do something to break the knots of tension and apprehension roiling in his stomach.

“Where's Megan?” He asked in an almost breathless voice.

Cassandra looked back at him over her shoulder smiling. There was a very strange look in her eyes, one that Ron could not identify.

“Oh she's with some…erm friends. She'll probably be out all night if I know her.”

When they reached the room Cassie turned and flung the hand carrying the bottle of firewhiskey over Ron's shoulder and kissed him again while her other hand fumbled with the key and door latch.

When the door finally opened she tugged Ron through then with her foot she pushed the door closed. She let go of Ron long enough to set the bolt on the door then turned back to him with a wicked smile.

“You don't mind spending some time alone with me do you Ron?” She asked coyly as she placed the bottle on a small table by the door.

“N…no, of course not Cassandra,” Ron said a bit nervously as he sat the glasses down next to the bottle. Cassandra pulled the cork and tipped some of the smoking brew into both glasses. She picked them up and handed one to Ron.

They both blew out the tiny blue flames dancing around the tops of their glasses looking into one-another's eyes. Cassandra put her glass to her plump red lips and tipped the entire contents of the glass in her mouth and swallowed without a wince. Ron smiled and did likewise.

Just as it had on previous occasions the whiskey burned all the way to his stomach and seemed to instantly take the edge off his nerves.

Cassandra's smile was devious and dark as she advanced toward Ron. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lithe body into his as she kissed him again deeply.

The effects of the whiskey and Cassandra's intense kiss made beads of sweat form at his hairline as well as the back of his neck and across the bridge of his nose. He could feel his body reacting like it had never reacted before. Lavender Brown's kisses never made him feel like that.

Cassandra could feel Ron's reaction to her kiss so she responded by pressing her thigh tightly between his legs and swirling her tongue with his. As soon as her tongue touched his she felt the bulge in his trousers twitch and swell.

Blokes are so easy to turn on…

The next thing Ron realized Cassie had release him, took a step back and began unbuttoning her blouse. Their eyes were locked together as she seductively disrobed right there in front of him.

Ron felt his own hands begin working on his clothes as if they had minds of their own while he watched Cassandra's beautiful body come into view. First were her perfect breasts once she removed a black lacy bra. Ron felt himself react again to her naked upper body. The swelling in his groin was becoming almost painful.

After she had let her blue jeans drop to the floor she stepped out of them and stood in front of him in nothing but very tiny black lacy knickers. The thin straps rode high on her slender hips.

She moved forward and grabbed the front of Ron's now tented trousers smiling as she deftly unbuttoned them. He was still fighting with his shirt that seemed to want to tangle his arms awkwardly as he tried to extricate himself from the garment.

Before he could get the shirt pulled off over his head he stopped as he felt his trousers and boxers fall to his ankles. He felt a warm hand wrap around his throbbing shaft and he could hear Cassandra gasp softly.

“Oh Ronny,” she whispered as his head was still comically stuck in his shirt obscuring his view, “you are a very big boy aren't you.” Cassandra's hand squeezed tightly around him making him shudder and tingle all over. He let out a groan and closed his eyes.

With monumental effort he jerked the shirt free and flung it off behind him. He looked down to see Cassandra looking at his manhood smiling broadly. She had placed her other hand on him now and was stroking his shaft in her warm tight grip.

“B…bloody hell,” Ron muttered.

Cassie looked up into his wide eyes and chuckled.

“You've never been with a girl before like this have you Ronny?”

All Ron could do was shake his head. With that Cassandra released his captured shaft and pressed her now almost naked body into his again letting his shaft press against her flat belly as she kissed him again.

“Well,” she whispered into his lips, “why don't we take it slow. Being new at this and all I'm sure you won't last long but that's alright…we have all night.”

As Ron's overheating brain began to try and process everything that was going on a whisper of a thought worked its way to the front of his mind. There was something he had to do tonight. He couldn't quite remember what it was as Cassandra pulled him toward the bed.

With both hand on his upper arms she turned him around and sat him down on the edge of the bed. Ron kicked his trousers and boxers free of his feet as he sat watching Cassandra slither out of her tiny knickers. She tossed them over her shoulder with a smile then moved forward forcing Ron's legs apart so she could press herself into him again.

Ron couldn't seem to take his eyes of the soft, blond triangle of fir that resided between her slender thighs. He slid his arms around her lower back as she wrapped hers around his neck guiding his mouth to one of her hardening nipples.

Ron seemed to know what she wanted as he took the dark nub of flesh into his eager mouth and began to suckle and swirl his tongue over it. The moans and sounds of pleasure Cassandra made went right to Ron's groin as he pulsed and throbbed.

She reached down between them and wrapped her hand tightly around his shaft as she had before. It made Ron a bit lightheaded as her hand moved up and down his rigid length. He could only offer a muffled moan with a mouth full of her other breast.

His body jerked as her finger gently but firmly flicked the underside of the tip of his shaft. He thought his head would explode right then and there.

Cassie chuckled as she moved back from him slightly pulling her breast from his hungry mouth with a subtle pop. She giggled madly at the sound. She looked at Ron with a devious smile as she went to her knees in front of him.

With a hand she pushed his upper body back a bit and he fell back on his elbows as her other hand curled around his rock hard shaft once again.

“This will make you feel really good Ronny,” Cassie gave him her smoky little grin, “Don't hold back ok? Just let the sensations take you and let yourself go. You'll love it I promise.”

Again Ron could only nod in response. The next thing he knew Cassie moved forward between his legs and took his manhood into her warm wet mouth and began sucking and licking him until he thought he was going to burst into flames.

He watched as his shaft would disappear into her mouth then she would pull it back out as her hand would return to squeeze and stroke him again and again. He could barely breathe as the tingling sensations coursed through him. His body shuddered and lurched of its own accord until his groin seemed to tighten almost painfully. He could feel his shaft swell even harder as his stomach churned with butterflies.

Cassie could tell he was close so she slowed her deep plunges and began licking and sucking around the tip.

It only took a few minutes and Ron grunted, gasping for breath. He exploded into Cassie's warm mouth as she sucked and swallowed him completely dry.

As the intense physical sensations began to subside Ron tried to get control of his breathing. He was dizzy and flushed and felt hot all over.

Cassie got to her feet and climbed on the bed right over the top of Ron's convulsing body, pushing him to lie down. She straddled him as she kissed him on the mouth and all over his blushing face.

She took both his hands in hers and guided them to her ample breasts as Ron instantly began to squeeze and kneed those firm mounds of flesh in his eager hands. He could feel her hard nipples pressing into his sweating palms.

Cassie moved her hips sliding her hot moist valley over Ron's still quivering groin. He couldn't help but feel her heat scorching him. He felt himself lurch as the blood rushed from his head once again to settle between his legs.

She moaned as she felt Ron's shaft swell again grinding her hips down hard on him. Before he knew it Cassie had reached down between them again and took him into her squeezing fist. His body reacted to her insistent touch instantly and he rewarded her with a blissful groan.

Cassandra giggled again as she raised her body slightly off the bed and guided his shaft between her damp thighs. As she lowered herself back down on his lap Ron felt himself sheathed tightly within her hot, wet channel. He bit his tongue hard not to scream from the sheer delight of the sensations coursing through his loins.

Ron knew the basic physical mechanics of sex with a girl. Blokes talked after all but none of those conversations or boastings could have ever prepared him for this!

The pure delightful physical sensations exploding through him burned out every preconception he had about sex with a girl. Cassie rode him up and down with her head thrown back and her mouth open in a silent scream. Ron unconsciously grabbed her hips and began thrusting up into her delicious bum harder and faster as if by instinct.

After a few moments Cassie let out a long, wailing moan as her whole body shuddered. Ron could feel his own intensity rising beyond his ability to control himself. He felt steaming hot fluid flood his groin soaking him. He could hold on no longer as he-himself shuddered and let himself go in a completely blissful release of his own. Convulsions racked his body as he felt himself gush deep inside her.

After what seemed like long minutes of drawn out climax Cassandra collapsed on top of Ron in a boneless heap. Her hot, sweaty body pressed Ron deeper into the mattress below him. She laid her head next to his kissing his ear and whispering to him as he lie there completely paralyzed with the sensations of overwhelming pleasure.

“Oh Ron,” she panted, “That was magnificent! It's been ages since I've had such a strong orgasm.”

If he had a bit more experience at that sort of thing he would have picked up on the surprise in her voice but he didn't.

Ron felt himself flushing with her praise. He felt his confidence rise even though his erection dwindled still deep within Cassie's incredible body.

After a bit she rolled to his side smiling, “Don't know about you love but I could do with another drink.”

With that she slid off the bed and made her way over to the bottle and poured herself about half a glass. Ron couldn't take his eyes off her amazing naked body…a body he had just filled with his own seed. The thought of that made his groin clench again.

Cassandra looked at Ron seductively over her shoulder, “What about you?” She held up her glass.

“Sure,” he responded, “Why not!” He leapt off the bed and made his way toward her.

They spent several more hours making intense love and drinking the strong whiskey as time passed completely without notice.

Before Ron knew it he was laying on the bed with Cassandra curled up next to him, her head on his chest. She was breathing heavy with inebriated sleep. Half drunk, sweaty and exhausted himself he heard the chime of a small clock on the mantle over the fireplace. He listened sleepily as the tiny gong sounded…eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve…

Midnight…Merlin's beard we've been making love for…

It was in that instant he suddenly remembered what he was supposed to be doing tonight…

…OH - NO!!!

---@>---

Harry arrived at the Burrow at exactly half-past eleven. As he made his way from the crossroads that went in several different directions he could feel himself slipping into wards he knew were in place from the Aurors.

As he made his way out of the small forest that surrounded the Weasley home…or what was left of it, he could see the utter destruction the fire had caused.

After an Auror confirmed his identity he was allowed to pass into the clearing where he could see things much better in the bright moonlight.

The only thing left of the house was a section of the first and second floor. The piles of charred debris must have been hauled away but the scorched earth around the little house was evidence of its complete destruction.

Harry's temper flared at the sight of it.

This is my fault. If it had not taken me so bloody long to figure out what Dumbledore was trying to teach me none of this would have happened.

He knew everyone would disagree with his assessment but it didn't make him feel any better. To him age and lack of experience was no excuse for being slow and stupid.

As he continued to look around he noticed Mr. Weasley's work shop and the chicken coup had survived the attack. He could hear several people milling about inside his tinker's shop. Other groups were gathered here and there as he made his way to the far side of the house to where he knew the old garden to be.

It was in the garden where most all the Weasley's were gathered. The same type venue was set up as it was for Colin Creevey's service with the same white chairs, a similar looking casket set on a low dais covered in bright flowers. A beaming photo of Fred sat in the center of the arrangement. His picture, unlike Colin's was making ogling faces and muggings at whoever happened to be close enough.

Harry almost burst out laughing at the sight of Fred's image sticking his finger in his nose and crossing his eyes at his old Aunt Muriel as she tottered by grousing about “catching her death in this cold, damp night air,” and “why they couldn't have a service during the day like sensible wizards. You'd think the whole lot of them bloody vampires or something…”

As most of the Weasley's greeted Harry warmly as he came closer he couldn't help but look around for Ginny, Ron and Hermione. He spotted Ginny's beautiful long red hair standing in a small group of their Hogwarts friends but he could not find the other two.

“We're so glad you're here Harry,” Molly came up and crushed Harry in a tight embrace.

“Wouldn't have missed it for anything Mrs. Weasley,” Harry replied a bit sadly.

“What have you been up to these past few days,” Charlie asked him.

“Not much,” Harry said darkly, “Kind of hard to go anywhere just now.”

“I've heard Kingsley has recruited you for his new Aurors training program,” Percy said, “You thinking about taking the appointment?”

Harry just shrugged his shoulders. The truth was he had not thought much more about it.

“I'd say he's had about enough of all that haven't you Harry?” The soft feminine voice came from behind him. He knew who it was immediately. He turned to see Ginny's lovely features coming toward him with many of his old friends and D.A. members in tow.

He noticed right away something very different about Ginny from the moment his eyes landed on her but he said nothing as he accepted congratulations and greetings from all his friends. He wanted to take her aside and ask her what was going on but refrained when he heard Mr. Weasley coming toward them all with a few of his Ministry people, Headmistress McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt and many of the other elders he knew.

They all greeted him warmly as well. As he stood chatting everyone up as best he could he looked toward the other end of the garden and saw Hermione coming out of the shadows of the destroyed house.

She was instantly swallowed up in the same fashion he had been so he didn't get much of a chance to speak to her. He did, however notice she still looked thin and strained but the dark circles under her eyes seemed less severe then they had before.

He could tell her smile was strained and she was forcing herself to relax and converse with those around her. No-one else seemed to pick up on her condition except McGonagall and Kingsley who both engaged her in quiet conversation away from everyone else. Harry thought that was rather odd but let it drop.

He was beginning to wonder if Ron was going to be another no-show like he had been for the Lupin/Tonks service when he heard Mr. Weasley having what could only be described as a heated conversation with George and Lee Jordan.

Harry could only hear snippets of the conversation as he tried to make his way to where Hermione was in conversation with Bill, Fleur and Andromeda Tonks. He heard Mr. Weasley growl…

“…supposed to be looking after him!”

…and part of George's reply…

“…we got to the flats after closing up shop he was gone dad! We don't know where he's gone…”

When Harry reached Hermione she gave him her best, sweet apologetic smile. She placed her hand gently on his arm and leaned close.

“I'm really sorry for acting the way I did…” She whispered.

Harry cut her off.

“There's no need to apologize Hermione. I know you're under a lot of stress. I just wish you would trust me enough to tell me what's going on with you.”

Harry was looking at her with an intense gaze. He saw her take a deep breath but before she could answer Minister Weasley announced the commencement of the service. The entire crowd moved to take seats.

Harry followed Hermione but watched as Ginny sat in the first row next to her mother and with the rest of the Weasley clan…all except for Ron.

As they settled into their seat Hermione leaned close to him again, this time her shoulder pressing into his. She did this on purpose because she had noticed Ginny stealing a backward glance at Harry over her shoulder. She wanted to give the torrid little snot something to think about. Hermione saw Ginny's eyebrows pinch together before she turned back around shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Hermione also noticed Dean Thomas watching Ginny from the far end of the second row. She smiled to herself.

“Where is Ron do you think?”

Harry shook his head, “No idea.”

As the service began Minister Weasley got up and went to the podium. He stood silent for a moment looking out over the congregation then took a deep breath.

“Welcome everyone and thank you for coming tonight. It is no easy task to lay one's child to rest however I must say my son George said it best when he helped us to understand Fred's loss was not…in vein. He paid the ultimate price to help protect us all and he did so with honor, courage and dignity. So we are gathered here tonight at the Witching Hour to say goodbye to that brave and kind young man…”

Arthur paused for a moment to collect himself.

“My son…”

He paused again. Everyone could see him fighting the lump that was stuck in his throat. Tears rolled off his cheeks as he looked around at them all.

“The rest of the family decided each of us would come up and recall one happy memory of Fred and I for one think it a smashing idea. So if you'll bear with me I will share with you one of my fondest memories of Fred…”

After Minister Weasley was finished one by one the rest of the Weasley family came up to the podium and told their memories of Fred's exploits and antics. They all laughed and cried as the loving and heart-felt stories were shared.

George was the last to take the podium and the congregation fell silent in anticipation of what he would share. George was, after all, the other half of Fred. He stepped up behind the podium wiping tears from his eyes. He smiled as best he could out over the crowd.

“Oh my,” George sighed, “Where do I begin…”

Before he could say another word they all heard the unmistakable crack of apparition then a loud crashing sound like the snapping of limbs off of trees mixed with shouted oaths from behind the podium and casket.

Harry and Hermione, as well as most of the others including all the Aurors in attendance for security rushed forward with wands ready.

Harry's chest tightened with dread as he pushed himself through the milling throng toward the disturbance just in time to see Ron Weasley at the base of a thick fir tree struggling to get to his feet.

Everyone who reached the scene the same time he did had the exact same reaction. They all stood there struck dumb with their mouths hanging open.

It was apparent Ron had tried to apparate to the service but the wards had bounced him out to the edge of the garden space. He had crashed head long into the top of the tree and fell all the way to the ground where he landed painfully in a pile of broken tree limbs and a tangle of arms and legs.

As Ron was finally able to stand he staggered unsteadily as he peered around him with a wild look in his eyes. Pine bows were stuck to him everywhere and a few needles were stuck to his forehead and in his mussed hair.

“Bloody he…” He stopped as he saw more than a dozen surprised sets of eyes gaping at him. Then a rather goofy smile spread across his dazed face as he raised his hand and gave them all a little wave, “'ello everyone! (hic) Lovely evening…” With that his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he passed out falling straight backwards into the pile of debris.

Harry could tell right away Ron was drunk out of his mind.

“Let me through…please…what's going on…”

It was Molly Weasley's voice pushing through the crowd now gathered around the edge of the wood.

Oh boy! Ronald Weasley is - a - dead man!

Both Harry and Hermione took a reflexive step backwards when Mrs. Weasley finally came to the front of the queue. It took her a moment to take in the scene before her but when it finally registered her face turned a horrid shade of dark purple.

Molly Weasley was so angry she couldn't speak…Harry thought ashamedly it had to be a first for her.

Arthur appeared next to Charlie whispering orders. He told him, Bill and a few of the Aurors to carry Ron to the tinker's shed at once.

When Charlie bent over the unconscious form of his youngest brother Ron belched loudly.

“Great Merlin's ghost,” Charlie reared back fanning his nose, “He's dead pissed dad!” Charlie quickly put his hand over his mouth realizing he had said that out loud.

Now Arthur's face turned a very similar shade of purple as he stood there gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

“Get him to the shed NOW!” Arthur spit, then turned and stomped off toward the shed himself.

Harry caught Hermione's expression with a glance. He could see the utter sorrow and disappointment in her eyes. As they watched Charlie, Bill and the others hoist Ron's limp carcass in an abbreviated version of the fireman's carry, each holding and arm or leg, they moved off toward the shed with Ron's bum bouncing painfully off the ground as they walked.

“Oy Cassandra, there's a good girl,” Ron mumbled then fell silent, eyes still closed

The others in the congregation moved off murmuring and whispering among themselves. Harry saw Hermione's face go dark folding her arms tightly under her breasts as she moved back toward the seats.

When everyone settled in their places once again George took to the podium once again and went on with his tribute to his brother.

Harry continued to glance at Hermione sitting quite rigid now next to him.

“You ok?” he whispered.

She merely nodded but her jaw was set tight.

A moment later they both noticed Ron, being lead by a flustered Arthur and a livid Molly coming from the shop. Arthur unceremoniously dumped the youngest Weasley son in an empty chair at the back row with whispered instructions not to move a finger.

Harry saw Hermione's head sag as she put her face in her hands. He could do nothing more than slip his arm around her shoulders and give her a gentle pat. He felt clumsy and stupid. Telling her things were going to be alright sounded empty and hollow.

He looked over his own shoulder and glared at Ron sitting there glumly. He felt a sudden surge of anger at his best mate not understanding why Ron was acting like a blithering moron.

Ron sat there in the chair trying not to think of anything. His head pounded with the effects of the firewhiskey, crashing through a tree and the nasty tongue lashing he had just received from his mother and father.

Everyone seemed to be angry with him now. Cassandra was mad because he had left so abruptly without really explaining. His family all wanted to kill him and as he sat there he saw Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and give him a very exasperated look.

Is she crying…over me? Oh bugger! Well…you've certainly made a gob of things this time Weasley!

As he sat there looking at all the dark faces glaring at him he decided he didn't really care. He looked at the wreckage that used to be the only home he'd ever known. He stared at the shiny metal box the body of his dead brother lay in and it only made him angry. He looked at Harry sitting next to Hermione. They always seemed to be together. He wasn't sitting with Ginny or his family…but Hermione.

Something finally occurred to Ron cutting sharply through his whiskey addled brain watching his two best friends.

This is the way things were supposed to be. Now that Ginny had decided she didn't need or want Harry…who does the bloke have left? Who else knows him better than Hermione besides me? Who else does he have to turn to? - No one…

With those thoughts swirling in his throbbing head he looked around at what was left of the Burrow and came to the conclusion that with his father now firmly ensconced in the Minister for Magic's position with his mother and younger sister residing in the posh digs of the Minister's mansion in London and everyone else out on their own…this place was no longer his home. It was a tomb - a place to bury the dead and a lifetime worth of memories.

He suddenly came to the conclusion he no longer wanted to be here. So with an effort to make his sore muscles work he got unsteadily to his feet. With concentration he made his way down the isle between the rows of white chairs to the front of the crowd gathered to say goodbye to his late brother Fred.

Ron didn't hear George fall silent, nor did he feel the many sets of eyes boring holes in the back of his head as he staggered his way toward the casket.

When he reached it he laid his hand on the cold surface and muttered, “Goodbye old Fred. Say hello to everyone for me.”

With that he stumbled his way around to the back side of the burial site and made his way toward the tree he crashed in.

He didn't see two people standing up silently watching this take place. One was his mother, red faced and livid with anger and on the verge of flying to pieces - the other, a formerly bushy-haired girl in tears wringing her hands with worry and fear.

As Ron made the edge of the forest only one thought kept repeating itself in his mind…

Destination, Determination and Deliberation!

A ripple of mumbles and murmuring swept through the crowd as Arthur tried desperately to pull Molly back to her seat. Hermione collapsed boneless back into hers when they heard the sound of someone apparating. Only old Aunt Muriel sat cackling like a hen. She thought it one of the funniest things she had ever seen.

When George was finally able to conclude his tribute he waved his wand and all manner of fireworks went off behind him. A shower of gold sparks exploded over their heads that spelled out Fred's name.

With that most of the congregation began making their way to the exit. Hermione almost jumped to her feet and set off toward the exit herself.

Harry was just able to catch up to her as she darted around Hagrid's large frame.

“Hermione wait!” Harry called, “Where are you going?”

Hermione stopped but did not turn around. Harry knew she was in tears.

“I'm going home Harry,” she said gruffly, “I have things I must do. I'll see you later.”

Harry watched her loose herself in the small crowd of people queuing up to apparate out of Ottery St. Catchpole.

When he turned he saw Ginny coming toward him. Any other time that would have been a welcome sight but at the moment he wasn't certain of anything. Nothing seemed to be going the way he had hoped now that Voldemort and the constant threat of death was gone.

“Hi Harry,” Ginny said as she reached him. The look on her face was unreadable. “Think we can talk?”

“What's the deal with Ron?” He blurted out. He had not planned on asking that but his irritation spiked at the memory of Hermione's face when Ron had made his exit.

Ginny just shrugged her shoulders, “I don't know what's gotten into him. All I know is being near mum and dad just now isn't a safe place to be.”

He couldn't believe how badly all that Golden Trio business was going to his head. It was as if Ron simply didn't care about anyone or anything but himself any longer.

She led him by the hand away from the disbursing crowd. They walked along the fence that separated the garden from a near-by pasture in silence for a while until Ginny finally turned and stopped in front of him.

“I suppose you're wondering why I haven't come around since the night of the final battle.”

“The thought had crossed my mind but I figured you've been busy.” Harry said. That sounded so lame to him but he really didn't know what else to say.

Ginny sighed deeply and looked down at her hands for a moment then continued. She suddenly seemed quite nervous.

“The truth is…things have changed Harry.”

She looked at him to gauge his reaction to that statement. Harry kept his features as neutral as possible but inside his guts were twisting into uncomfortable knots.

“There's no other way I know how to say what I have to so please try to understand. This isn't easy for me.”

He nodded. He wasn't sure he could trust his voice at that moment.

“I suppose it all started the day of Dumbledore's funeral. When you sat there and told me that we couldn't be together because it wasn't safe. I felt so…” Ginny felt herself loosing control a bit, “so…frustrated and angry…”

That revelation surprised Harry. He was sure she understood. He said nothing.

“I wanted to be with you so badly. I knew you would go off chasing Death Eaters and Voldemort and get caught up in that stupid prophecy. I wanted to help you and fight side by side with you. But what you said to me at the funeral made me feel like I was still just a silly little girl with a stupid crush on The Chosen One.”

“It made all those things you said to us in the D.A. meetings seem like empty words. I thought the whole reason we were learning to defend ourselves was to be able to face the threat of Voldemort together…but you chose to leave me behind.”

Harry was beginning to feel ill. He couldn't believe what she was saying. He wondered how she could have misunderstood his intentions so badly. He kept silent and listened.

“I tried to convince myself you were really protecting me but when I discovered you let Hermione join you I was completely insensed. I know why she was with you…cleverest witch of her age and all but it didn't make it any easier to take. I was the one who cared for you and yes…I think I may have even been in love with you so it was devastating to know she was allowed and I wasn't.”

“At the wedding, you didn't even stay to see if I was all right or anything. You just let Hermione grab you and dash off to who knew where.”

“Call me a jealous, selfish little tart if you like but it was how I felt at the time. I felt abandoned Harry.”

She paused for a moment. Harry was frozen in place. He had lost all feeling from the neck down.

Merlin…How did everthing go so wrong?

“Dean, on the other hand, stayed by my side the whole time. Even after I had tossed him over to be with you he never gave up on me. He was kind and understanding. It was much more than I deserved.”

“I wanted to be with you so badly I completely disregarded Dean all together. That was wrong of me.”

“I remember the Yule Ball, Harry. Do you remember? I wanted you to ask me to go with you but all you could think about was Cho bloody Chang! I remember sitting in our dorm room listening to Hermione wonder why neither you nor Ron had asked her. That was before Victor Krum, of course. She couldn't believe Victor had asked her. She almost said no. Can you believe her?”

For a moment Harry found himself back at Hogwarts during the whole Tri-Wizard fiasco. Instead of standing there wondering why he was loosing the one girl he thought he truly cared for more than any other, he was wondering why he hadn't asked Hermione to the ball. No-one knew him better than she did. Even though they were nothing more than close friends, he would have felt emensly more comfortable with her than with anyone else…even Cho. Was it because of Ron? He couldn't recall why.

“So…I guess what I'm trying to tell you is Dean and I have, well kind of re-connected unexpectedly. I don't want to hurt you Harry and I still care for you very much but I'm not going to lie to you and pretend.”

She looked at him, blushing.

“Are you angry with me Harry?”

He honestly searched inside himself for how he felt about what she had said. Besides his guts twisting and churning he didn't think he felt angry. It was more like…disappointment.

“No Ginny,” he said softly, “Why would I be angry with you for telling me the truth?”

“You hate me then,” Ginny whispered, her face wrinkled as if she was going to cry, “I suppose I deserve it.”

“I don't hate you either,” Harry added, “I'm not sure what I really feel at the moment. I just wish you would have told me these things when they first started to bother you, that's all.”

“I was frightened,” she sniffed, “I know I didn't handle things very well and I'm sorry,” Ginny burst into tears as she fell into his arms, “I'm really really sorry Harry.”

The memory of his last birthday flooded his mind. It was the last time he had held Ginny in his arms. She had just about kissed him into unconsciousness with her soft, tender lips. He remembered how her warm body felt pressed into his, how her hair smelled so nice, how she had given him that wonderful blazing look of hers that held so much promise of what the future might have held.

Now, as he stood there holding her she felt like a complete stranger sobbing softly into his shoulder, her body rigid.

He felt the weight of depression land on him like a rampaging troll.

Harry had the sudden desperate desire to be somewhere else. He wasn't exactly sure why but he no longer wanted to be among the Weasley's for the first itme since he had met them.

It wasn't just because of Ginny, it was multitude of reasons. The day had been filled with the constant reminder of loss and mourning and Harry had reached his limit.

He gently pushed her away from him and held her at arm's length. Looking at her cheeks glistening with tears he couldn't seem to muster any pitty or remorse. He just felt…empty.

He was starting to understand that look in Hermione's eyes as he realized he needed to find her. Harry looked down at Ginny.

“I appreciate you being honest with me Ginny but I've got to go.”

He turned away from her and without looking back he made his way to find Headmistress McGonagall. She would have the information he needed.

When he finally spotted her she was in a tight group of witches and wizards that appeared to be in a quiet but serious discussion but at the moment Harry didn't care about interupting. He strode forward with purpose and tapped her lightly on her shoulder. The Headmistress turned and looked at him with surprise.

“Professor,” Harry said, glancing at the others, “I'm sorry for interupting but may I have a word with you…in private.”

McGonagall's eyebrows dissapeared but she nodded at the others, “If you'll excuse me for a moment.”

Minister Weasley, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few others he did not recognize all nodded and went back to their conversation as McGonagall stepped away with Harry toward the remnants of the Weasley home.

“What may I do for you Mr. Potter?” McGonagall asked.

“I was wondering if you knew what was going on with Hermione. She's not acting herself at all and she seems almost ill. I'm really worried about her.”

McGonagall looked at Harry for a moment but then her face hardened slightly.

“If she has not confided in you what she is going through at the moment then I can only assume she has her reasons Mr. Potter. I realize this is most likely an unsatisfactory response to your inquiry but I feel it is my duty to protect her privacy in this matter. You understand of course.”

He did…but then again he didn't. Hermione was his best friend.

“Well,” Harry asked, “can you at least tell me where her parent's house is? I've never been there so I don't know where it's located. She said she was going back there and I just don't think she needs to be alone right now.”

McGonagall looked at him with lips pursed. She didn't look as if she was going to respond. Harry was getting desperate.

“Please,” he pleaded.

Something in the old Transfiguration Professor's eyes softened as she gazed at Harry intently.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

“The house is in Camden, just off Primrose Hill. Number 410 Chalot Square. Do you know the area?”

Harry shook his head, “No but I'll find it. Thanks Professor.”

Harry turned to go but McGonagall stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I must warn you Mr. Potter. Proceed with caution. There's no telling what kind of wards, spells and traps she's placed on her residence. She's been experimenting with that sort of thing for years.”

Harry grinned at her and nodded.

Sounds just like her!

A moment later, gaining the outside edge of the wards he was off to London.

-->

11. 11 - Interview

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Eleven - Interview

Zalina Sheryl Star descended the stairs from her room above the pub at the Leaky Cauldron dressed in the most conservative clothes she could find. In fact, she thought she pulled off the whole stuffy school matron look fairly well.

In true form Zalina Star was a tall, slender olive-skinned, raven haired Goddess by most Muggle and Wizard standards. Her beautiful youthful face and electric blue eyes could captivate any man without the need for magic and her habit of wearing those thin, tight gowns with the plunging neck line to accentuate here full, firm breasts and slit up to her firm thighs to show her long perfect legs could stop any man in his tracks.

This was, after all, an interview.

Not just any interview…but an interview with the stodgy and prim Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She had twisted her long shiny black mane into a tight bun at the back of her head and applied a slight glamour to dampen her undeniable beauty. The application of some horrid looking glasses finished off her mild disguise.

Having sent Headmistress McGonagall all her records and transcripts along with her application by owl on a previous occasion she was told in reply this meeting was nothing more than a formality to meet in person. Zalina's teaching history and credentials had all been investigated and approved but she knew they would be.

As she settled at a table to wait for the Headmistress Old Tom sidled over to her eyeing her intently. He had seen her in her normal appearance when she had checked in. The old pervert could barely take his eyes off her bum.

She was a bit confused by the Headmistress's odd request to meet in the early hours just after midnight but after McGonagall explained about the late-night funeral service she would be attending nearby Zalina supposed it made sense. The truth was she would have met the Headmistress in a boat in the midst of the Hogwarts Lake in a driving rain storm if she had asked.

The pub was now closed to outsiders and those in residence had taken to their rooms at this late hour so they would be quite alone for their meeting.

“Can I get you anything Madam Star?”

“No thank you Tom,” she flashed him one of her devastatingly sensuous smiles, “I'm quite fine for now. I apologize for keeping you at such a late hour.”

She wasn't really. Truthfully she could care less…

“Think nothing of it Miss,” Tom replied bowing low.

She could see beads of sweat break out at the old codger's temples. She smirked inwardly. She knew how to use these gifts she had acquired…

Tom was about to make his way back to the bar when they heard a knock at the rear entrance that came from Diagon Alley.

The old barkeep shuffled his way over to the door, unlatched it and pulled it open with a groan.

Minerva McGonagall bustled into the pub clutching a small satchel purposefully nodding to Tom as she passed.

“Good evening Tom. I do appreciate your assistance and patience for allowing this meeting at such a ridiculous hour. Do forgive me.”

“Nonsense Minerva,” Old Tom waved her off, “Happy to oblige. Can I get you anything?”

“No…no,” she replied, “I shall only be a moment I assure you. I have another interview in the morning and I've much to do at the school yet before it will be ready for next term. You needn't make a fuss.”

When McGonagall reached the table Zalina stood and took the Headmistress's hand in hers warmly.

“I must apologize to you as well Miss Star.”

“Quite alright Headmistress,” Zalina replied with as warm a smile as she could muster, “I understand you're quite busy. Please…”

Zalina motioned to one of the other chairs at the table and both women settled in their seats. The Headmistress placed a small satchel on the table and pulled out a sheaf of documents and arranged them in front of her.

“I shall get right to the point Miss Star.” McGonagall began, “I have reviewed your application and information and am quite satisfied that you possess the necessary experience and qualifications to fill the post of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts however I do have one or two minor reservations and quite frankly would very much like to see your skill…first hand if I may?”

“Of course, Headmistress,” Zalina smiled as she looked around the pub for a moment. As her eyes landed on Old Tom sweeping the floor nearby just close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation she was struck with a rather devious idea.

Zalina pulled her wand and concentrated on the old man looking blank for a moment. With a quick flourish Old Tom suddenly changed from his usual appearance into what looked to McGonagall like a young girl with curly blond hair, pink cheeks wearing a gaudy bright pink dress with a huge white bow at her back tied about her midriff with a wide white ribbon wearing white stockings and dainty white slippers. The old barman seemed to notice nothing as the young girl continued along sweeping the floor. The barkeep reached behind him and scratched his bum just as Old Tom was in the habit of doing often.

With another flourish of her wand Zalina changed him back. Tom merely looked at them and smiled his mostly toothless grin and kept on sweeping as if nothing was amiss.

McGonagall's lips curled into a wry grin.

“I must confess that was most impressive Miss Star. How you were able to transfigure him without his knowledge took some rather prodigious skill I must say.”

“Thank you Headmistress,” Zalina nodded to her, “I am quite adept at Legilimens as well as Occlumens. I've studied both skills quite extensively and found I have a natural talent for both it seems.”

McGonagall's eyebrows rose.

“That's remarkable Miss Star,” McGonagall replied, “I've known those who were proficient at one skill or the other but to be gifted in both is extremely rare indeed young lady.”

“Yes…well” Zalina feigned a look of slight embarrassment, “Those skills manifested themselves quite early in my youth. It was difficult to control at first. There was not an irritating boy or aggressive pet safe in my neighborhood until I went off to school.”

McGonagall couldn't help but smile.

She took in Zalina's appearance, demeanor and posture for a moment. Although slightly nervous as would be expected, she sat upright - if not a bit stiffly - with legs properly together and hands folded in front of her on the table in what Minerva would consider a proper position for a young lady. She could find nothing untoward in the prospective instructor's attitude or conduct. Zalina projected an air of competence, maturity and all-around likeability and even though her dress suggested mild stodginess she was quite attractive underneath. It was as if the woman was attempting to downplay her looks.

But with all of Minerva's years of experience and knowledge assessing her students and faculty she was struck with the undeniable sense there was much more to Ms. Zalina Sheryl Star then what appeared on the surface. While possibly not malevolent or evil there was just…something more…something she would like to keep hidden from prying eyes.

But then again there are many in our world who possess the very same trait.

“As a result of your application and my personal evaluation Ms. Star I am quite certain you indeed possess the necessary skills and abilities to make a qualified instructor however, having said that, the only possible concern I can ascertain to the contrary at this moment is your…how shall I put this without sounding biased…lack of years. As I am sure you know Hogwarts takes great pride in providing the very best curriculum for our students and that includes the most highly qualified instructors in their field. Most all our Professors are of a somewhat advanced age but this does in no way deem you unqualified, I assure you. It is more of a control and disciplinary issue than anything else.”

McGonagall took a breath and continued.

“I am prepared to offer you a position as interim or probationary Transfiguration Professor for a period of sixty days, the contract to be evaluated based on an average of your student's marks and assessments from myself as well as other members of my staff. While I realize there are minor restrictions in a probationary period I assure you Ms. Star you will have complete control of your classes as well as whatever additions to the basic curriculum you wish to add or change to assist you in your capacity as an instructor as long as they are in the best interests of the institution and your students. No one will be perched on your shoulder like an owl watching your every move, I promise you. Is this situation acceptable to you? I assure you I will take no offense if you decline based on the limits of this offer. You will be compensated just as any other Professor on my staff. I will not subject you to a lesser salary as a result of my reservations or temporary restrictions.”

“I understand your concerns Headmistress,” Zalina said with a serious look on her face, “and I appreciate your candidness. My only request is that I be furnished with whatever criteria needed to meet your institutions acceptability guidelines in regard to student mark qualifications and whatever else I will be evaluated on so I may stay abreast of those requirements…”

“Of course, Ms. Star,” McGonagall replied and handed her a parchment with a detailed description of what Zalina would be evaluated on under the terms of the probationary period, “Once the interim period expires the contract will automatically be renewed to our standard and a ten per-cent adjustment will be added to your salary for enduring such a restriction.”

Zalina nodded approvingly as she read over the requirements.

“These certainly don't seem to be unobtainable by any means Headmistress,” she smiled handing the list back to McGonagall, “I think I can live with the probationary period.”

“Excellent Professor,” McGonagall said smiling. After going over the contract, signing all the necessary documentation and issuing Zalina the base curriculum as well as rules, regulations and guidelines for Hogwarts both woman stood and shook hands.

“Welcome to Hogwarts Ms. Star,” McGonagall gave her a tired smile, “I do hope you find our institution to your liking. At 28 years of age you will be one of the youngest Professors in the history of our school.”

Zalina beamed.

“Well!” She blushed, “That's quite an honor Headmistress! Thank you. I won't disappoint you.”

“I do not think you shall, Ms. Star,” McGonagall replied, “I'll expect you two weeks prior to the start of next term. The starting date is in your information package. You may arrive early of course. You will have accommodations on premises if you so choose. The residence quarters within the Transfiguration Department office are quite comfortable I assure you. I've resided there myself for the past 50 years. I believe that is all for now Professor Star,” McGonagall made her way to the rear entrance, “If you have any additional questions you may owl me at any time. Good evening Professor.”

“Thank you again Headmistress and goodnight.”

Zalina watched as Old Tom opened the door and let McGonagall out into the darkness of the alley beyond.

“Good news I gather?” Old Tom asked as he shuffled back toward her still carrying his broom.

“Good news indeed,” Zalina murmured, “How about a snifter of your best Bubbling Brandy Tom? I have reason to celebrate this night?”

“Very good Madam,” Tom croaked with his wide toothless grin, “Right away.”

He turned to go back to the bar. He returned a moment later with a bottle and a round globe shaped glass.

As Zalina settled back in her chair with her glass of warm spiced brandy waiting for the bubbles to recede her mind raced ahead to the next phase of her plan.

She had managed to ensconce herself in one of the most prestigious magical educational institutions in the world by nothing more than deception, forgery and clandestine tactics and no-one was the wiser for it.

Seems they've learned nothing over the past several years!

Although she knew it was more of a testimony to her underhanded creativity and skill she could now bask in almost unquestionable integrity under the guise of her new respectable profession.

Zalina realized the most difficult phase of her plan was yet to come but she was almost certain her efforts would be successful. Her research and preparations had been thorough.

After finishing her drink she bid Old Tom goodnight and made her way up to her room. As she entered the first order of business was to remove the glamour and untie her hair. She let her long tresses spill down her back as she fluffed her locks free with her hands.

Undressing and slipping into a sheer nightgown she washed, brushed her teeth and made ready for a good night's rest. As she made her way though the small sitting area of her room blowing out candles she heard his voice as she bent over to snuff a candle with a soft puff of breath.

“My…my,” the voice uttered haughtily, “I do appreciate a good quality see-through night robe!”

The fact was, with Zalina standing in front of the light one could see the dark skinned shape of her perfect naked body almost as if the shift did not exist.

As she snuffed the last candle she turned to look at the leering image of the teen-aged Tom Riddle sitting on his chair in the portrait propped against the wall behind her.

“Get a good long look did you?” Zalina sneered.

“Quite!” He responded, “I must admit you are an exquisitely sensual creature Miss Star.” The look of raw wanton desire on his oil painted face was unmistakable.

With that, Zalina reached up and untied the dainty ribbon that laced the front of her sheer nightgown. With a tug she unraveled the bow and the thin garment slipped off her shoulders and pooled on the floor at her slender ankles.

“Is this what you were referring to?” She asked, gesturing to her gorgeous naked female body standing before his image.

Tom Riddle's eyes slid from her face down over her perfect breasts with their dark areolas and rather erect nipples to her firm, flat stomach and lingered for a moment on the dark triangle of thin fur that covered her womanly valley. He continued gazing along her muscular thighs and slender long legs. Her dark skin was supple and flawless.

“Mmm yes indeed,” Riddle's image hissed.

In one smooth motion she bent and snatched the shift from the floor and slithered her body quickly back inside tying the ribbon deftly. She glared at the portrait for a moment.

“I hope you got an eye full you disgusting vermin! It's something you'll never be able to touch, enjoy or possess!” She spit.

“Still sore about Bellatrix I see,” Riddle's image sneered completely unaffected by her display.

Zalina's eyes flew wide.

“What? Me…envious of that psychotic, pathetic excuse for a sorceress?” Zalina laughed, “You must be bloody daft!”

“Perhaps - even so,” Riddle continued, “She served me well. Her deviousness was one of her greatest assets and she was loyal to the end…unlike others I trusted.”

Zalina's anger spiked white hot. She lunged toward the portrait and shoved a long, perfectly manicured finger in his miniature painted face.

“Listen to me you stupid self-absorbed twit,” she growled, “If you would have listened to me from the beginning I would have given you the secrets that have kept me alive for eight hundred years but no, you had to be impetuous and arrogant. You let Bellatrix and Severus Snape assist you in creating those…those abominations!”

Her anger was rising inside her to an almost dangerous level. She could feel the edges of her eyes going red with furry.

“Splitting your soul into seven pieces? What were you thinking you blithering idiot? If that wasn't ridiculous enough you did pathetically little to secure your Horcruxes and they were systematically eliminated right under your nose!”

“I…I don't know how Dumbledore discovered my plan…” Riddle stammered.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” Zalina said trying to restrain her temper, “Albus Dumbledore was a thousand times the sorcerer you had never even hoped to be! He'd been watching you from the day he came to pick you up at the orphanage to take you to Hogwarts.”

Riddle's face wrinkled with fury. He lurched to his feet, hands clenched in tight fists at the end of his stiff arms.

“I AM THE GREATEST SORCERER WHO EVER LIVED!”

Zalina put her hands to her face peering at the figure in the portrait with unveiled disgust. She settled on the edge of one of the over-stuffed chairs in the sitting room across from the painting.

“You were…you mean,” Zalina whispered loud enough for him to hear.

That comment made Riddle's image deflate like a pin pricked balloon. She watched as his face contorted through several different attitudes before settling on confused self-righteous indignation. He folded his arms tightly and slumped back in his chair.

“My plan would have succeeded if it weren't for those meddling kids!” Riddle huffed. {*}

“Did you not learn anything while you were in exile in Albania?” Zalina asked.

“What was I to learn?” Riddle spit miserably, “I was completely alone until that disgusting rodent Pettigrew found me and brought me that Hogwarts Professor. Neither you nor any of the others certainly did anything to assist me.”

“Really?” Zalina replied with a slit-eyed gaze, “Who do you think instructed the rodent to go find you? How do you think he came to know where you were? Chance… happenstance? And I think if you remember correctly I was forced to go to ground myself after someone put a decree of death on my head! Let me see,” Zalina stared at Riddle with as much hate as she could muster, “I think that was you wasn't it?”

Tom Riddle's image waved his hand arrogantly.

“Simple misunderstanding on my part,” he said with nonchalance, “I was misinformed.”

Zalina's blood began to boil. Her hands worked clenching and unclenching. Riddle's image had no idea how close he was to being completely annihilated. She had to physically force herself not to go get her wand and do him in once and for all. She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath.

“You knew how important it was to me to remain anonymous. I tried to convince you of the legitimacy of my…talent and knowledge but you refused to listen.”

“You should have instructed me in your complete knowledge from the beginning,” Riddle shouted, “instead what did you teach me…how to occupy another's body like a lowly parasite? If you would have given me the complete process then…”

Zalina cut across him.

“…You'd still be just as dead! You weren't ready for that yet. I told you! It takes years to perfect that ability. You should have been patient.”

“Bah,” Riddle spit, “That is precisely why I devised my own plan. I did not want to rely on someone else's knowledge or skill.”

“Is that so?” Zalina asked smirking now, “Who conducted the ritual to bring you back to a corporal form?” She didn't wait for a response, “Who assisted you in creating and preparing the potions necessary for you to create your Horcruxes? Who placed your diary in the Weasley girl's cauldron? Who did you dispatch to the Ministry the night Harry Potter arrived to save his Godfather and whom did you trust to spy on your most hated and feared enemy?”

The last was the most damming question of all.

“Tell me oh great Lord Voldemort?” Zalina said in a dangerous whisper, “How did all that turn out for you?”

Tom Riddle's painted image said nothing. He merely sat glaring at her with vehement disgust but just as quickly as his rage had appeared it evaporated. His face returned to his usual arrogant sneer gazing down at his fingernails.

“So do you think this new plan of yours will really work? Seems sound in its theory but…”

He intentionally left his comment hanging.

“I have no idea but you best hope so,” Zalina replied as if she had tasted something unpleasant, “It's a brilliant plan and it's the last and only chance you've got. We'll only have one go at this so if you would like it to succeed, if it can, you will continue to do as you're told! Is that clear?”

Riddle's image said nothing but sat back in his chair brooding darkly.

With that Zalina returned to her bed chamber and to settle down for a good night's rest. She was certain she had made her points this night. It didn't mean she didn't worry. Her plan was completely improvised, untested and she was certain nothing like it had ever been attempted before. She had found nothing anywhere to suggest it had so her apprehension was not unfounded.

If she succeeded though, her life-long dream might stand a chance of coming to fruition after all rising out of the wreckage of Voldemort's short-sighted stupidity like a flaming Phoenix.

One can only hope!

{*} Well used line from just about every Scooby Do cartoon and movie ever made! Sorry, I couldn't resist!

-->

12. 12 - Adjustments

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

A/N; Another fill-in chapter. As always thanks for reading. Will try and update faster. Life has been…interesting and the Holidays are coming. Marry Christmas to all!!!

PLEASE REVIEW!!!! It would be greatly appreciated!!!

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twelve - Adjustments

Harry decided it would be best to go back to #12 and try to find out where Hermione lived from there.

After consulting a much outdated street map of London found in the Black library he at least now had a general idea where her street was located.

He apparated to Primrose Hill and made his way to a call box just outside the park. Checking the small map in the directory he found Chalot Square with no trouble.

It took him about twenty minutes to walk the distance and located the house at the end of what appeared to be a very well manicured court yard.

The formal two-story house was twice as large as the Dursley's with bright white siding and black shutters. Lights lit up many of the windows on the first floor. The big crystal chandelier behind the cut-glass arched transom over the large black front door cast multi-colored prisms of light across the front yard.

As Harry made his way across the dark shadowy yard he constantly looked around. With the exception of a few barking dogs off somewhere in the distance the area seemed deserted. He was about to step up onto the front porch when he stopped.

Heeding the words of the Headmistress he decided to make his way around to the back. As he swung around the left side he encountered a high wood fence that blocked the rear of the house from view. He noticed a gate in the fence up close to the side wall.

He was a bit surprised when a simple alohomora let him through. He made his way silently and carefully around the side to the rear. There was a large stone patio off the back of the house with what looked like a trellis over it. The trellis was covered with all manner of ivy and grape vines. Ornate wrought-iron chairs and a glass top table set under the canopy like an outdoor café.

As Harry stepped onto the stone patio he was suddenly jerked off his feet, flipped upside down and suspended in mid air. As he dangled there confused and disoriented he realized he had stepped in a trap similar to the one he encountered in the maze during the Tri-Wizard tournament.

He heard the rear entrance of the house open slowly. He knew Hermione had heard him. She probably had alarms going off all over the house.

“Who's out there?” He heard her call out from the shadows, “Identify yourself! You won't be able to get in!”

“So I've discovered,” Harry said. He couldn't help but chuckle.

“Harry?” Hermione responded with exasperation. He heard her approach as he felt himself slowly lowered to the stone, “Why didn't you just come to the front door? I would have let you in.”

Instead of trying to explain what McGonagall had told him he just lay there looking up at her dark shadow hovering above him for a moment.

“This is so much more fun!” He laughed.

“Well,” she said as she reached down to give him a hand to help him to his feet, “I guess I know my traps and wards work anyway.”

“Don't get many visitors do you?” He asked as he came to his feet.

“You're the first actually,” Hermione said with a grimace, “Come on inside before we wake the neighbors.”

He followed Hermione through the darkness of the patio into the rear entrance of the house. They stepped into what appeared to be the laundry area. Hermione closed the door and threw the bolt.

She led him into a huge sitting room complete with a big bay window at the front, massive black leather L-shaped sectional sofa, matching overstuffed chairs and a huge stone fireplace that took up almost one whole wall of the room.

The house was beautifully decorated. The rich hardwood floor not covered by a huge Persian rug gleamed in the soft lighting. The whole place looked comfortable, cozy and warm.

Hermione carelessly tossed her wand on a table just inside the sitting room. She then turned and gave Harry a rather dour look, arms folded tightly.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” She asked sounding a bit put out, “Did you follow me?”

“I was worried about you and no,” he replied, “I begged McGonagall for your address.”

“Brilliant,” Hermione muttered, “Can't trust anyone…”

“Hermione,” Harry said a bit gruffly. He was getting irritated at her attitude, “Don't blame her. She wouldn't tell me what's going on with you, said you might have your reasons for not telling me…”

Hermione said nothing as she stood looking at her shoes.

“Do you have reasons for not telling me?” He asked.

As he stood there watching her he saw Hermione's face crumple into utter sadness as she began to sob uncontrollably.

Harry automatically moved forward and took her into a tight embrace. He was beginning to get choked up himself seeing her like that.

“Oh Harry,” she gasped as she grabbed his jacket and buried her face in his chest. She was shaking, clinging to him so tightly he was afraid she might tear the coat right off him.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, “please talk to me.”

They stood that way for a long moment until she slowly regained control of herself. When she let go Harry conjured a handkerchief and guided her to the sofa. Hermione sat sniffling and hiccupping for a moment until she gave Harry a sideways glance. She looked miserable.

He said nothing trying to wait and see if she would open up and decided not to push her any farther. After a moment fumbling absent-mindedly with the hanky she stood.

“Come on,” Hermione said holding her hand out to Harry, “I need a drink.”

She towed him through an arched doorway that led into what looked like a formal dining room with a large mahogany table that looked very old. It was set in the center with a large basket of what appeared to be wildflowers and two candelabras on either side of the basket. The high backed chairs were ornately carved. A massive matching etched glass front antique china hutch sat to one side and contained all manner of china, crystal, silver and goblets.

The large crystal chandelier that hung above the table fit the décor perfectly.

As they passed through another arched doorway at the other end of the room it was like stepping out of the past and into the modern era into a kitchen filled with stainless steel and gadgets everywhere.

It looked like a kitchen right out of one of the finest restaurants in London. The huge island in the center of the kitchen was topped with black granite and had a four burner gas stove top, griddle, grill, sink and an oven below the range top.

A stainless pot rack ran around the perimeter of the island and all manner of shiny pots and pans hung around the rack. Harry had never seen two refrigerators before. Hermione didn't bother to explain one was a sub-zero unit and what it was used for.

Harry marveled as he watched her take a glass from a cabinet and slid it into a slot in the massive refrigerator's door. With a slight swishing whir the glass filled with cold water.

When Hermione took a long drink she handed the glass to Harry. He drained the rest.

“Can I try it?” He asked pointing to the fridge.

Hermione cocked a slight smile and nodded. Harry tentatively pressed the glass into the slot and watched it fill with water. He took another drink then handed the glass back. Hermione opened a shiny silver door next to the big sink and placed the glass on the rack of the dishwasher.

“Hermione this is a really nice house,” Harry said looking around in wonder. He knew Mr. Weasley would be going into Muggle gadget sensory overload if he saw this place.

He suddenly realized what was missing.

“Where are your parents? Are they sleeping?” Harry asked.

He saw tears slide down her cheeks again as she sat down at a small table tucked in a niche off to the side of the kitchen next to what Harry assumed to be a pantry larger than his old bedroom at the Dursley's.

“My parents are at St. Mungo's Harry.” She replied.

As Harry joined her at the table she began to talk. She told him everything. From the moment she left for Australia right up to her trip to the Ministry to deliver her new list.

He sat and listened quietly. He didn't interrupt her with pointless questions or hollow regrets. He simply listened until she had got it all out.

Hermione had to admit to herself it helped to tell him. She felt the monumental guilt and tension ease a bit.

When she was done Harry felt like throwing up. He had no idea she was going through so much agony. His anger at Ron flared even hotter as he sat listening to her.

“Right now I don't know if I'm coming or going most of the time. Not knowing why is so bloody frustrating.”

“Well,” Harry quipped, “If you pass yourself on the street or something just remember Polyjuice…”

Hermione gave him an odd look.

“At the rate you're pulling your hair out someone's bound to find some and try to capitalize on all your Golden Girl fame and glory.” He grinned.

Hermione couldn't help but crack a smile at that. She knew Harry was trying to ease the tension and she appreciated it very much. She reached across the table and placed a hand on his arm softly looking up at him with watery eyes.

“I'm really sorry for being so distant and hateful Harry.”

“Stop,” Harry said, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Well,” she said sadly, “I feel I've been a hag to everyone the last few weeks and now sitting here talking to you I realize it was stupid. I have no idea why I was trying to hide everything. I was just so afraid the Prophet would get a hold of what was happening and they would have a bloody field day with it.”

She looked up at Harry with such sadness it made his heart throb with pain.

“Wasn't life supposed to get better after dispatching Voldemort and his lot?” She whispered.

“It has Hermione,” Harry responded with a grimace, “Just not for us…at least not yet but it will. You've got to believe that. I have to anyway. It's the only thing I've got to hold on to at the moment. If I didn't believe that I'd probably Avada Kedavra myself!”

The look on Hermione's face told him his attempt at levity fell a bit flat.

“You can't use an unforgivable curse on yourself you dolt,” She mumbled.

“Maybe your right,” Harry said looking at the floor, “but I never thought I could survive the curse twice either.”

That revelation shocked Hermione. Harry had survived the killing curse on two separate occasions. It was impossible not to see there was much more to Harry Bloody Potter than what was on the surface.

“So there's nothing that can be done to help them?” Harry asked

“Nothing we know of right now,” Hermione sighed tiredly. “It doesn't mean there isn't an answer. It just means we haven't found it yet. I just need to stay focused and not get sidetracked by things like the antics of Ronald Weasley; Blubbering Baboon.”

“I don't know what's gotten into him Hermione,” Harry said, “and apparently no one else seems to know either. You know Ron. He'll come round eventually…”

“NO!” Hermione shouted. She was on her feet in a blink. She stood with her back to him, arms wrapped tightly around herself again, “No Harry. Don't you dare make excuses for him! You always do! Not this time.”

“I was willing to forgive him when he called me a `nightmare' when we were younger. I forgave him when he completely overlooked me for the Yule Ball. I forgave him about the whole misunderstanding with the Slug Club,” she started shaking, “I was even willing to forgive him for that whole Lavender Brown mess.”

She looked down at her hands.

“I might have even been able to forgive him for abandoning us during the hunt for the Horcruxes some day Harry but this…I know I'm not pretty or attractive or alluring but I won't ever be someone's afterthought.”

“Afterthought,” Harry was on his feet now himself, “Hermione how could you possibly think that? You are all those other things and so much more! Don't you dare let some empty-headed sot make you feel inferior. Why I just wish I had the courage…”

Harry stopped that thought right there. He wasn't sure he wanted to delve into his inner most feelings. It was a dangerous place to go and he wanted to kick himself for letting even that slip.

Hermione turned to look at him with surprise. He cursed himself.

“Courage for what Harry?” She asked calmly.

When he hesitated she repeated the question. She wanted to know what he was going to tell her.

“Harry, you're the most courageous bloke I know. What didn't you have the courage to do?”

He looked at her with a sideways glance then quickly down at his trainers.

“To do what Viktor Krum had the courage to do.” He replied.

Hermione flushed hot. She suddenly felt even more weak and ill.

Does he know? But how? No-one knows what happened between Viktor and I the night of the Yule Ball, do they? Oh Merlin! Did Viktor tell someone?

She sat back down at the table before her knees gave way. She had to find out…

“What - what do you mean Harry,” she asked as innocently as she could.

“You know,” Harry said, “I wish I would have asked you to the Yule Ball instead of Cho or whoever.”

Hermione took a deep steadying breath. She tried desperately to get control of herself.

“Oh…well, I understand why you didn't Harry. I was a bit miffed at Ron for not asking because I was under the impression he fancied me. To be honest I'm surprised you didn't ask Ginny but I think she was still with Michael or Dean then wasn't she. I can't quite remember.”

“Yes, well,” Hermione saw Harry's face darken completely, “I've learned that sometimes things like that don't change. Seems to be a Weasley trait among the younger lot.”

“What?” Hermione asked. She thought that a very strange statement.

“Let's just say I don't think I'll be spending too many holidays with the Weasley family.”

“What are you trying to tell…” she began to ask but then reasoning took over…“Oh! What happened?”

“I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it quite yet. To be honest I'm not sure I even understand it all. I haven't had the time to reason things out yet…not that it really matters.”

“I'm sorry Harry,” Hermione said sadly. She herself suddenly disliked the idea of spending time with the Weasley clan. She looked at Harry for a long moment and realized he now had no-one. He was completely alone in the world…both worlds!

How could everyone just turn their backs on him like that? He saved Ginny and Ron and Mr. Weasley! He saved all our lives!

Before she realized what she was doing she stood and moved to Harry. She wrapped him in as warm and tender an embrace as she could muster in her present state of depression. When he slid his arms around her in kind she nuzzled her head against his chest under his chin and closed her eyes.

They stood that way for what seemed like a long time just holding one-another. Hermione realized how pleasant it felt to just bask in the warmth of him listening to the strength of his beating heart. She began to feel calmer than she had in weeks, all the tension and stress seemed to fall away. He rested his cheek gently against her forehead.

The next thing Hermione realized she was waking up from a drowsy slumber lying across Harry's lap on the couch in the sitting room. He had covered her with her mother's afghan that hung over a rocking chair next to the fireplace. He must have carried her.

He was sleeping as well propped against the side of the couch sitting up, his arms still wrapped about her protectively. She couldn't believe she had fallen asleep standing in the kitchen like that.

She noticed it was still dark outside so she knew it was still early in the morning. When she moved to raise up Harry came awake at once with a slight jolt.

“Harry I'm sorry…” Hermione tried to apologize.

“Shush,” he said with a slight smile, “You were exhausted. I didn't know where your room was so I did the only thing I could think of.”

Hermione smiled at him. She stretched and yawned raising her arms over her head.

“It's fine Harry thank you. Besides…you would have never made it up the stairs. It's a good thing you didn't try.”

Harry chuckled.

“Yah,” he grinned, “McGonagall warned me about that.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Then why did I find you in my upside-down trap?”

“I didn't say I was clever,” His eyes sparkled.

As they sat looking at one-another Hermione got a strange tingling sensation all over as she looked into his familiar green eyes. It was something that had never happened before. She had looked in his eyes countless times but never had a reaction like that. It felt odd yet familiar.

She could see so many things there in his gaze. The things he had been through over the past 8 years she could scarcely comprehend and if she had not been standing right next to him when he went through those things she would not have though it possible for someone to endure so much and still be able to smile at all.

Before she could think about it or reconsider or stop herself Hermione was falling forward. When her lips met his it was as if she was covered in a subtle wave of warmth. Her whole body clenched and shuddered in response to the feel of his warm soft lips on hers.

It was wonderful and thrilling and frightening all at the same time.

For Harry the feeling of Hermione's lips suddenly pressed against his was quite unexpected. He had no idea she was going to kiss him so it took a moment for him to realize it but when he did it was as if someone was running their fingers softly down his spine. It felt…so right!

Hermione found herself becoming lost in the power of their connection, so strong and unexpected. Before she realized what she was doing she shifted her position and was now straddling Harry's lap. Her hands came up to cup both sides of his face as their kiss deepened and became more urgent. The feelings of longing and desire were almost overwhelming her senses as she pressed her mouth hungrily into his.

Harry found himself consumed by her. As he sat there reveling in the intense emotions she seemed to be pouring into him through her kiss he forced himself into rational thought.

You're snogging Hermione Granger! She's your best friend!

…But when a soft sensuous moan escaped Hermione's throat as she pressed her body even closer to his he lost all sense of reason or rationality. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment but her.

In the next moment it was as if sobriety had returned to both of them in the same instant. Hermione lurched back off the couch to stand blinking, wide-eyed at Harry for a moment. She reached up and touched trembling fingers gently to her lips as Harry's gaze fell to his hands.

“I - I'm really sorry Harry,” Hermione stammered blushing profusely, “I don't know what got into me…I…”

Harry held up his hand to stall her. He couldn't quite meet her shocked expression.

Hermione stood there for a moment more. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to get control over her jumbled emotions. As she searched inside herself she became aware that kissing Harry had brought her a feeling that had been absent inside of her for a long time.

Comfort!

In the next moment thoughts of her parents flooded back into her consciousness and the magic of the moment before was gone in a puff of smoke.

She was an absolute mess.

Hermione settled into one of the overstuffed chairs beside the couch with a heavy sigh. Weariness settled on her like a pile of boulders.

Harry glanced at her when she settled into the chair and realized she suddenly looked much older and very haggard. Before he knew what he was doing he was on his feet.

“Maybe I should go Hermione,” he whispered, “You need to get some…”

Before he was able to finish his statement Hermione was on her feet as well. A rather wild look crossed her beleaguered features.

“NO!” She said imploringly, “Please don't leave…” She forced herself to stamp down a growing sense of urgency. She had no idea where it came from or why but she was suddenly aware she didn't want to be alone…in this house. She took another deep breath. “Erm…what I means is…I would really appreciate it if you would just stay here…tonight…” She wanted to say with me but something stopped her.

Merlin…Granger when have you become so needy?

Harry nodded.

They both just stared at each other for a moment. The nervous tension crackled through the air between them like electricity.

Hermione smiled sadly then turned toward the stairs.

“Give me a moment to remove the wards and I'll make sure the guest room is ready,” she whispered.

Harry glanced at her nervously as he turned to follow.

---@>---

Ron landed heavily on the cold damp cobblestones of Diagon Alley after apparating away from Fred's funeral service. He had no idea where in the Alley he had landed. The only thing he could think of was getting back to Cassandra so he reasoned she must still be at the Leakey Cauldron.

His head pounded and he felt sick after the night's events. The thought of Hermione sitting so close to Harry flittered through his addled mind. He had finally come to the realization Harry was there for her because he wasn't. It made sense. He had always been there for her. He wasn't quite sure how to handle the knowledge the girl he had secretly, (or maybe not so secretly) fancied for ages was possibly with his best mate now.

Part of him was grateful Hermione wasn't alone and he was glad it was someone other than Viktor Krum.

That was one of the few secrets he had managed to keep over the years. The knowledge of what Viktor had done the night of the Yule Ball sent him into a blinding rage whenever he thought of it but he had kept mum about it besides, he still wasn't absolutely certain it had actually happened that way and he didn't have the nerve to ask Hermione about it. He was certain a nasty hex would follow his question.

As he tried to get to his feet he heard voices and the sound of shuffling footsteps coming quickly toward him out of the darkness.

“There he is!” One voice shouted.

“Put up an anti-apparition ward,” said another.

Before Ron realized what was happening he was jerked to his feet by two very large and very strong sets of hands. As he gazed wildly around him his eyes finally focused on a tall, dark figure coming toward him out of the shadows. He didn't look pleased.

“Ronald Weasley,” Kingsley Shacklebolt announced formally with a growl, “The Minister for Magic has requested we apprehend you and transport you at once to the Minister's quarters in London. You will remain there until the Minister returns, is that understood?”

Ron was too dazed to do anything else but nod.

The next thing he realized he was standing in a rather grand entrance hall of a very large and opulent residence.

The foyer was a cavernous area. The floor was covered in large dark marbled tiles that were so shiny they seemed to glitter from the light of a huge crystal chandelier hanging above their heads set in the large domed ceiling. Two wide staircases went up to a second level on both sides of the grand entrance hall.

The walls on both sides of the foyer were covered with paintings and portraits whose faces peered down at them scowling with obvious disapproval.

Large mahogany doors led to rooms on either side of the entrance hall and the foyer opened up to what appeared to be a huge sitting room through a wide doorway set between the staircases.

A tall, thin man dressed in what appeared to Ron to be a tuxedo came out from the sitting room and glided across the entrance hall toward them. He wore a scowl similar to the ones in all the portraits. With every other step the man made a strange squeaking sound as he walked.

Kingsley stepped forward and addressed the man.

“We've managed to find him Gibble,” the head Auror said, “Please send word to the Minister. I must return to the Ministry. There is still much work to be done there.”

Gibble bowed and hooked Ron's arm with one of his long boney hands. Kingsley looked pointedly at Ron.

“You're to stay here, understand and I wouldn't advise giving Mr. Gibble any trouble. He's been taking care of the Minister Elect for thirty years so he's seen and done just about everything you can think of. Besides…I think you've caused enough trouble for your family already!”

With that, Kingsley turned and with the other two men made his way out the front entrance without a backward glance.

“Mr. Weasley,” the old butler said in a calm polished tone, “This way if you please.” Gibble motioned with his free hand to the staircase on the right.

Ron realized very quickly Gibble wasn't asking as the old man's other hand tightened almost painfully on his upper arm.

“I will show you to your room,” Gibble added stiffly, “May I suggest you clean up a bit before the Minister arrives. Your possessions have been transported from your flat in Diagon Alley so I pray you will find what you need.”

Ron felt himself being guided toward the stairs.

Part of him was terrified at the prospect of facing his father, and worse…his mum! The small inkling to flee was instantly quelled by the fact the head of the Auror's Department was dispatched to find him and they put anti-apparition wards on him to keep him from running. He knew this place would have all types of wards and spells on it so he resigned himself to do as he was told for now.

Gibble half-guided, half-dragged Ron up the stairs. At the top they turned right and continued into a long hallway with large dark mahogany doors on both sides. When they reached the second door on the left Gibble stopped.

With a flourish of a wand the door swung wide to reveal a bedroom unlike any Ron had ever seen. In the middle of the back wall was a huge four-poster bed. All the furnishings looked antique but in remarkably fine condition.

“You will find your personal bath behind the door to the left. The closet is on the right.” Gibble gestured with his hand toward the open door. “If there is anything else you require simply touch your wand to the silver bell on the night stand next to the bed.”

Gibble gazed at Ron seriously for a moment.

“I would not advise trying to leave Mr. Weasley,” his dark eyes flashed, “It would not bode well for you.”

Ron said nothing as he staggered his way into the room. Gibble pulled the door closed as Ron surveyed his new digs. The whole room looked opulent and resplendent with all the fineries life had to offer but it left Ron feeling like he was a stranger invading someone else's home.

He made his way over to the huge bed, turned and fell backward onto the immaculately made surface. The mattress was like landing on a cloud. Without even removing his shoes Ron was unconscious in minutes.

An unknown number of hours later he was torn from the slumber of the dead by sharp rapping on his door. Before he could get to his feet he saw Percy push his way into the room through his hazy vision still blurred by drink.

Percy came to stand over Ron with a disapproving glower, hands on hips.

“Feeling a bit peaky are we?” Percy asked.

Ron could only grunt in response. The next thing Ron knew he was being jerked to his feet and forced to stand stiffly at attention. He saw Percy standing in front of him holding his wand.

“I'm afraid nap time is over Ronald.” Percy said in his most serious and authoritative tone, “You've got about fifteen minutes to get yourself cleaned up and pulled together. Dad wants to see you in his office at once and if I were you…and I assure you I am most glad I'm not…I would not keep the Minister waiting one more second than necessary!”

Ron peered at Percy for a moment.

“That angry are they?” He asked. He knew it was a stupid question.

Percy only shook his head as he retreated out of the room. As Ron made his way into the huge opulent bathroom he spotted a new unopened bottle of Pepper-Up potion sitting next to the sink.

He thanked whatever wizard, witch or deity had deposited the bottle there as he fumbled the stopper off the top and drained the entire bottle. After a loud belch he began feeling the effects and he managed to make his way quickly through a shower without falling down.

After he dried off he went to the other side of the room to a matching door that led to a giant closet. Inside was an entire new wardrobe complete with underwear, socks, shoes, trousers and crisp new button-up shirts. There was even a suit or two. Ron thought about putting on one of the suits for about two seconds but abandoned the idea when he spied a pair of tan trousers with creases so sharp they looked like they could slice fruit.

He chose those along with a crisp white shirt and a new pair of brown wing tips that fit like they were made just for him. He was just checking himself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door when he heard the bedroom door open once again. Percy stuck his head in and taking in Ron's much improved condition cracked a wry grin.

“You look almost human. Come with me…” Percy motioned for Ron to follow and he did so without protest although he didn't like the idea of being ordered around by his older brother who had at one time defected from the family. Even though Percy had seen the error of his ways that stigmatism and a bit of resentment still existed in Ron's mind. Everyone else had seemed to have gotten passed it.

Ron took in what Percy was wearing and suddenly felt woefully underdressed. Percy had on what looked like a finely tailored charcoal grey business suit, bright white shirt and stylish tie under his matching business robe bearing the official Ministry seal on the breast pocket.

As they made their way down the hall toward the staircase Percy began talking rather rapidly under his breath in a very official manner.

“There's something you need to understand right away Ronald,” Percy said, “You are about to have an audience with the Minister for Magic…not your father. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Ron stopped walking and looked with raised eyebrows at Percy who took another step or two before he realized Ron wasn't beside him any more.

“No, actually I don't,” Ron said as if he had just tasted something unpleasant. He stood stubbornly still glaring at Percy with arms folded tightly.

Percy suddenly looked tired as if he would rather be doing anything else than attempting to explain wizard politics to his gormless younger brother. He took a deep breath.

“What do you think is going on here Ron? Do you think this is just some kind of game or a silly joke? Our father is now Minister for Magic and along with that comes an enormous amount of duty and responsibility. If that wasn't enough dad has inherited the complete mess of the past three administrations not to mention trying to sort out the damage done by the Death Eaters and all those Ministry Officials who were under the Imperious Curse.”

Ron looked sour.

“So what does that have to do with me?” He asked.

Percy looked at Ron trying to summon a colossal amount of patience. He realized Ron knew very little of how a political machine worked so he tried to explain things as simply and succinctly as possible.

“Look Ron,” Percy sighed, “Politics, no matter it Wizard or Muggle has as much to do with perception as it does anything else. It's how people view an administration that makes the difference between being an effective governing body or being a complete waste of time and resources. As unpleasant as that might sound it is simply the way things are.”

“If the Wizengamot views our father as a weak leader then they will be less likely to work with him in making effective changes that will benefit the wizard world. Do you remember how Cornelius Fudge tried to cover up the fact Voldemort had returned?”

Ron nodded. He also remembered how Fudge had tried to push Dumbledore aside and discredit him and Harry. He tried to force his influence on Hogwarts as well as the Daily Prophet.

“How well did that work out for him?” Percy asked.

Ron shrugged.

“I still don't see what this has to do with sending Aurors to pick me up like a common criminal and bringing me here against my will!”

Percy held up his hand, “I'm getting to that Ronald.” He continued.

“What I'm trying to tell you is the truth will out Ron. What that means is that anything and everything you do…” Percy pointed at Ron's chest, “reflects directly on this administration for no other reason except that you are a Weasley. You are, like it or not, directly connected to all this and if that wasn't profound enough you just happen to be one of the Golden Trio so what you do out there is magnified ten times more because of your notoriety…understand?”

Ron was beginning to and he didn't like it one bit. He didn't realize how complicated being famous had become. If his father had not been elected Minister it probably wouldn't matter what he did all that much but he knew his mother would still be angry. It made him feel a bit queasy.

“So what's going to happen to me then,” Ron asked a bit angrily. He didn't want to be a part of any of this. He just wanted to be left alone but he also knew that was no longer possible. “Dad going to send me off to Azkaban or something…Family embarrassment and all?”

Percy gritted his teeth.

“First of all it's not dad you have to be worried about!” Percy growled, “He and I have convinced mum to allow the Minister's office to handle this…problem. Believe me, that wasn't easy. She wanted your bullocks on a plate! As I said before you are not going to be talking with dad. You are going to have an audience with the Minister and that requires a certain amount of politeness and respect. Got that? I have no idea what's to become of you but I will tell you this Ron. If you go into that office with a big chip on your shoulder things will go bad for you…do you understand what I'm telling you?”

Ron sighed. He felt the weight of the past week settle on him like it had down in the wizard morgue when he finally realized the loss of life that had occurred the night of the battle at Hogwarts. He felt he no longer had any control over his own life and that more than anything made him angry and resentful.

He didn't want to have an audience with the Minister for Magic. He could care less about the whole bloody thing but as Percy's words sank in about Ron being undeniably connected to the office now he came to the quick conclusion his brother was right. If he went in there with a belligerent attitude he would regret it. He had to begrudgingly appreciate Percy's insight on that particular notion.

“Alright,” Ron asked, “What should I do then?”

Percy rubbed his forehead.

“Honestly,” he looked tiredly at Ron, “I don't know Ron. All I can say is you're going to hear some very unpleasant things…possibly things you didn't know but what I advise is not to loose your temper and don't be disrespectful. As Minister, Dad is under an enormous amount of pressure from the Wizengamot at present.”

“There are things happening I cannot discuss being in the position of Undersecretary but suffice it to say he is on tenterhooks. Just get in and get it over with. Take whatever punishment he decides on and run with it. I'll try and suggest the least unpleasant course of action. He listens to me and is relying on my past experience much more than he should I think but it gives me a little influence on some of his decisions. I won't make any promises but I'll do what I can.”

Ron wanted to rail against this outrageous treatment. He felt like he was being tried for some crime. He suddenly remembered how it must have felt for Harry when he had to go before the entire Wizengamot for breaking the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic. If Harry had enough courage to face an entire Wizengamot then he could muster enough gumption to face his father…but Harry had Dumbledore to help him…Ron had Percy!

I'm doomed!

Ron held his hand out telling Percy to get on with it. Percy nodded and led Ron down the hall to the staircase on the right. They descended to the foyer and turned right to one of the large mahogany doors that lined the sides of the entryway.

Gibble appeared as if out of nowhere to open the door. He nodded at Percy with what appeared to be the greatest respect.

“Will the Minister and the Undersecretary require tea sir?”

“Thank you, yes,” Percy nodded to Gibble slightly, “That is most kind.”

Ron studied this seemingly simple exchange and marveled at the level of rigid formality of it all. Gibble glanced haughtily at Ron with one eyebrow raised as if to say, That's how things are done around here boy. Ron couldn't help but bristle with resentment. He tried to push those feelings aside as Percy first knocked then slowly pushed his way into the Minister's residential office.

As they entered the office Percy stiffly and formally announced their entrance.

“The Undersecretary requests permission to enter. I have brought Mr. Ronald Weasley as you have requested Minister.”

From where Ron was standing he took in the vast room that lay before him. It was huge. His father sat behind a massive and ornately carved wood desk. He looked rather small sitting behind it. Ron could see nothing more than the shiny bald spot on the top of his father's head as he sat hunched over a pile of parchment, the feather of his quill quivering as he wrote.

“Percy,” Ron heard his father's voice say without looking up from his work, “There's no need for such formality son. Come in and make yourselves comfortable. I'll be finished in a moment.”

Percy ushered Ron toward one of the chairs sitting in front of the huge desk. It was made of a heavy dark and ornately carved wood and covered with plush red leather. The back of the chair was ladder straight and as soon as Ron's bum hit the seat he was uncomfortable. Percy moved to another smaller desk off to the side of the office and gathered what appeared to be a folder. He came and settled in the chair next to Ron.

Gibble came in a moment later and placed a silver tea service on the corner of the desk. He placed a cup of tea down for Arthur then came around the desk and set one down for Percy. He completely ignored Ron's existence. He then bowed.

“Will there be anything else Excellency?” Gibble asked.

“No thank you Gibble,” Arthur replied without looking up, “That will be all.”

The man Friday seemed to evaporate into thin air.

They sat in silence for a long moment as his father worked feverishly on the stack of parchments. Percy sat sipping his tea. Finally Arthur slipped his quill into the ink well and leaned back in his chair peering across the desk at Ron for a moment. The look on his fathers face was both weary and a bit agitated.

Percy rose and passed the file he had picked up moments before across the desk to his father. Arthur took the file, laid it carefully on the desk in front of him and flipped it open. He studied the top document for a moment, let out a soft groan then looked back at Ron again.

“Ronald,” his father inquired, “Can you please explain what has gotten into you son? I suppose I can understand having a bit of fun but this…”

Arthur pulled a wizard photograph from the file and held it up so Ron could see it. It was a picture of him kissing Cassandra at Darby Danforth's party. He could see Danforth as well as a few other wizards in the background. Ron couldn't understand what the big deal was. He was just kissing the girl. It wasn't like they were shagging naked or something.

“She's just a bird I met dad,” Ron said a bit more defensively than he wanted, “We went to a few parties and had some fun. What's the bloody big deal?”

His father handed a piece of parchment over to Percy and his brother began to read it out loud.

“Cassandra Crenshaw…also known as Clair Crane, Daphne Brooks and sometimes goes by the professional name of Bubbles. She's been charged with eight counts of solicitation, three counts of attempted bribery and a jay walking charge. She's been convicted twice. Mr. Darby Danforth. Five counts of drunk and disorderly, two counts of collusion, prime suspect in several Muggle disappearances and presently under investigation for suspected involvement with Death Eaters.”

“What's Solicitation?” Ron asked a bit bewildered by what he was hearing.”

Percy couldn't help but smirk but his father looked glum.

“Erm, Ronald,” Percy replied, “I'm not sure how to tell you this but your little girlfriend is a lady of the evening!”

“A what?” Ron asked confused.

“Cassandra Crenshaw is a convicted prostitute Ron,” Arthur chimed in, “and that's not the half of it. We received this the other day from George. He told me Lee found it while going through some of his old issues. He said he was sure he had seen the girl somewhere before so he came up with this…”

Arthur handed Ron a magazine. He had seen one before. Seamus Finnigan had a copy tucked under his mattress at Hogwarts years ago. It was a copy of a tacky skin rag called The Sassy Sorceress. His father had a certain page marked with a tab. When Ron opened it there lay Cassandra wearing nothing more than a seductive smile as she waved up at him from a red satin covered bed.

Ron's blood went to ice as he starred at the pictures. Percy cleared his throat and Ron snapped his attention back to his father's stern gaze.

“I…I had no idea dad, honest!” Ron stammered.

“I believe him Minister,” Percy hastily added, “I believe while there is really no excuse for Ron's excessive drinking he truly didn't know anything about the girl's history or anything about Darby Danforth. It is in my opinion she was using Ron in order to take advantage of his fame and notoriety…”

Ron shot Percy an angry glare. He didn't believe for one moment Cassandra was taking advantage of him. She had never asked him for anything except wanting to be with him and have fun.

“That's not true,” Ron protested.

Percy held up a hand to stall his argument.

“Did you sign a contract with Rita Skeeter about a book deal you two came up with?” Percy asked calmly.

Ron paled, “Yah…how did you…”

Before he could finish his question Percy rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on Ronald! It's all over the Daily Prophet. Your little bird has contacted Ms. Skeeter several times inquiring about when the Galleons will start rolling in and how much your little book might fetch. I contacted Ms. Skeeter myself for corroboration.”

“I…I…” Ron stammered. He suddenly felt ill.

Arthur looked darkly at Ron for a moment.

“Your mother wanted you thrown in Azkaban for a few weeks to rid your befuddled brain of all this silly nonsense.”

“Azkaban!” Ron twitched like he had been struck in the face.

“Lucky for you she decided to visit with Fleur for the next few days.” Percy interjected, “seems Fleur's been a bit under the weather.”

“Calm down,” Arthur said. He rubbed his tired face with both hands, “We're not going to send you to Azkaban but I promised her that I would do…something with you.” His father looked off into the shadows of the corner of his office for a moment, “Maybe I can convince the Muggle Prime Minister to put you in his military for a while. That aught to teach you a bit of discipline at least.”

Ron began to sweat. He couldn't believe the mess he had gotten himself into. The prospect of being sent into the Muggle world frightened him beyond comprehension. He was about to do some serious groveling and pleading when his brother unexpectedly came to his rescue.

“I think that might be a bit extreme Minister,” Percy said frankly, “While I realize Ron has acted like a buffoon I really don't think the Muggle Military is the answer.”

“Have you any suggestions?” Arthur asked Percy. They were speaking as if Ron was no longer in the room.

“Actually I do Minister,” Percy nodded. “He still has one term left to complete at Hogwarts in order to be eligible for his N.E.W.T.S. I recommend sending him back to finish his last year. We can make it official by Decree if it will satisfy the Ministry.”

Ron knew Percy was actually referring to his mother, not the Ministry but the prospect of being forced to go back to Hogwarts was much more palatable then the alternatives.

His father nodded.

“Also,” Percy added, “I think Ron should be confined to the Minister's residential compound until the term at Hogwarts starts in September. That should satisfy mum.”

“I think that's a capitol idea! Write up an appropriate Decree and make certain it states he must finish his last term with acceptable marks.”

“Consider it done Minister,” Percy nodded.

“Oh,” Arthur added, “and better put a clause in there about being confined the school ground so he can't bolt if he were of the mind to.” He looked pointedly at Ron's pale face.

Percy nodded. Arthur rose stiffly from his chair and scooped up several rolls of sealed parchment.

“I have a meeting with the Undersecretary of Finance this morning at six-o' clock. I'll be at the Ministry until about nine.”

“Very well,” Percy rose as well. Ron sat still as death, his head still reeling from what had just taken place, “I'll have the Decree on your desk for approval within the hour.”

As Arthur came around his desk preparing to leave for the Ministry he laid his hand on Ron's shoulder.

“All I can say Ron is this is for your own good son,” Arthur said sadly. “Please don't squander this opportunity to set things to right.”

After Arthur left the office Ron could feel Percy's gaze boring a hole in the side of his head.

“That went much better than I thought,” Percy said with a sigh, “That whole Muggle Military thing came out of nowhere.”

Ron was still numb but the realization of what he had discovered about Cassandra depressed him. He turned to look at Percy.

“How did you find all that out about her?”

“I didn't!” Percy shrugged, “Most of this stuff was the back pages of the Prophet. All I did was contact Kingsley to verify if it was true or not. When Lee came up with those nude pictures I thought mum was going to spontaneously combust. You do see how badly this reflects on the family now don't you Ron?”

Ron could only nod. “I never meant…”

Percy stalled his apology with a hand placed on his shoulder.

“I know Ron,” he said quietly, “Look…just do us all a favor and behave yourself at Hogwarts. Once this mess blows over…and it will with a little time just try not to draw too much attention to yourself for a while ok? That will at least keep mum off your back. Dad doesn't need that kind of stress just now.”

“Alright,” Ron said looking off into space, “Guess I don't have much of a choice do I?”

“Consider the alternatives,” Percy chuckled then left the office.

Ron looked seriously at Percy for a moment.

“Thanks…for your help,” Ron said blushing slightly, “That was…” He wasn't sure what else to say.

Percy shook his head.

“I know I wasn't around for the family much over the past few years. I bought into Fudge's administration hook, line and float. I really thought I was doing the right thing. I thought loyalty was what was needed to succeed but…” he looked down at the floor for a moment. Ron stepped forward and put a hand on Percy's shoulder.

“That's not important any more Percy,” Ron said, “All that mess is in the past. You came to your senses in the end and that's what matters.”

Percy offered Ron a weak smile.

“I'm sorry things turned out so badly for you Ron.”

Ron waved him off as he sat back down in the chair with a heavy sigh.

“Ahh, I brought all this on myself. If I would have went to #12 and stayed with Harry none of this would have happened.”

Percy nodded and exited the office.

Ron sat where he was lost in contemplation. Finishing his final year at Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad but the thought of returning to the school without Harry or even Hermione made it seem empty and pointless.

He thought about being 18 and still in school. He wondered if old McGonagall would make him Head Boy if he inquired but then remembered she and her father were very close. He would be lucky if he wasn't tagged with a tracking charm after what had just transpired.

What will Harry and Hermione say when they find out I've been sequestered to Hogwarts!

He knew Harry would probably laugh. Hermione would most likely tell him it served him right for being a brainless twit.

He thought about Hermione for a moment. Surly she had read about his infamous exploits in the Daily Prophet. He wondered if she would ever speak to him again. For the first time since the end of their sixth year after Dumbledore's funeral he felt the first twinge of regret.

He knew there was no chance things would ever be the way they once were between the three of them and that made him feel worse than any punishment his father, the new Minister of Magic, could dish out.

He remembered what he had seen that night he looked into the Mirror of Erised. It amused him how differently and disappointing real life had become and how tenuous and fickle fame could be. He was certain at that moment the Mirror with all its empty promises of the future reflected nothing more than one's own selfish desires.

He vowed to himself as he got up and made his way from his father's office, if he ever saw that stupid Mirror again he would throw a rock through it…

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13. 13 - Warning

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Thirteen - Warning

It wasn't unusual to find Sibyll Trelawney sitting at the end of the bar at The Three Broomsticks these days. As a matter of fact Madam Rosmerta considered the strange Hogwarts Divinations Professor somewhat of a fixture. There had been several times the pub owner had to summon Hagrid to come and escort the rather tipsy seer back to her quarters on the school grounds.

So it wasn't strange at all to see her sitting in her usual place on that rather stormy evening a few weeks before the new school term was to begin. As a mater of fact, the pub was enjoying a rather brisk night of business for a change, much to the joy of the proprietor.

Rosmerta was ecstatic Hogwarts was re-opening for the new term. Although the pub did a fair business with all the witches and wizards that had come to help repair the school it was still nice the repairs were now complete and the new term would start on schedule.

Thankfully she had been pardoned for her roll in allowing herself to be Imperioused and used by Draco Malfoy to try and deliver the cursed necklace to Dumbledore through a Hogwarts student. What very few people knew was…it hadn't been Draco at all…it had been Bellatrix Lestrange in the women's bathroom that night.

The death of the Dark Lord had brought about a renewed sense of comfort and normalcy there in Hogsmeade that had not existed in quite some time and the start of the new school term would help get things back to a somewhat normal rhythm. Even though many were still a bit hesitant to let go of their fears and weariness completely life was certainly beginning to move in the right direction.

For some like Professor Trelawney, whose life changes had little to do with the rise and fall of Voldemort she still found herself lamenting her fate and future. But no-one could have anticipated what was about to happen as many of the pub's regulars sat enjoying a quiet evening of drinks and casual conversation.

Hagrid entered the pub carrying the same old pink umbrella as Madam Rosmerta looked on in amusement.

“Evenin' Hagrid,” She greeted him with her ethereally gorgeous smile.

“Evenin' Rosy,” Hagrid smiled as he hung his damp overcoat on its usual peg behind the door, “Nasty weather ou' there tonigh'”

“The usual?” She asked.

“If ye' please my dear,” Hagrid replied as he slipped onto one of the stools at the bar. It groaned and creaked loudly in protest to Hagrid's excessive weight.

Rosmerta put the huge bucket-sized mug of ale down in front of Hagrid and after he set a few galleons on the bar he glanced over at Sibyll.

“Alrigh' there tonigh' Professor?” Hagrid asked but as his gaze lingered on the odd woman he noticed she looked strangely blank…at least more blank then she usually did when she had too much sherry.

As Rosmerta noticed Hagrid watching her Sibyll rose slowly from the stool and stood silently, arms stiff by her side, head lolled back and her mouth slack.

Hagrid's eyes went wide and he was about to leap off his stool to rush to her aid when she started speaking in a strange gravelly voice that was nothing like her own.

“Evil stirs once more in darkness

Born unto the house of the serpent

Ancient's magic within youth disguised

Will unchain the dead from restless slumber

To awaken upon the Savior's demise”

After the last words were spoken she seemed to slowly gather herself back into sobriety. Sibyll coughed and cleared her throat blinking her eyes rapidly then sat back down on her stool and resumed sipping her Sherry as if nothing what so ever had just taken place.

Hardly any of the other patrons even noticed Sibyll standing there much less spitting out another prophecy.

She glanced at Hagrid who was still frozen in place gaping at her.

“I…I'm sorry Hagrid. Did you say something dear?”

Hagrid slowly turned and found a stunned Madam Rosmerta looking back at him. They both uttered the same phrase at the exact same time…

“Not again!”

Rosmerta scrambled to fetch some parchment, quill and ink and she brought them to the bar where she and Hagrid tried to remember the words Sibyll had just said. When they were certain they had it right Rosmerta rolled the parchment, tied it with a string and handed it to Hagrid. She swallowed hard.

“You know what to do with this.”

Hagrid nodded with a sigh. He then gulped down his mug of ale and headed for his coat and umbrella. Tossing an irritated look over his shoulder at the barmy Divinations Professor he left the pub in a hurry mumbling epithets under his breath as he stepped back out into the driving rain.

At that same moment, deep in the bowls of the Ministry, in the Hall of Prophecies within the Department of Mysteries a small globe appeared high up on shelf number 99. It contained the bright blue swirling mist of a memory that flared once then faded to blend in with the surrounding globes. The small tag that dangled from the accompanying wooden base read;

Sibyll Trelawney,

8:15:31p.m. August 22nd, 1999.

RE; Harry Potter; Tom Riddle;

And {S.S.}?

As Hagrid made for the winding staircase up to the Headmistress's office he was still in a very dark mood.

The barmy old tosspot's a' it again! Can't leave well enough alone can she!

He remembered long ago when Sibyll had done the very same thing and what had followed.

Out of her words of warning the Order of the Phoenix was born and even the combined knowledge and efforts of hundreds of experienced witches and wizards could not contain the evil that gripped the entire wizard world then.

The darkness of those days of the loss of so many of his friends still hung heavy in his heart and with the recent loss of his beloved friend and mentor Albus Dumbledore Hagrid felt more alone now than ever.

It was true he now had Grawpy to attend to but the biting emptiness never seemed to let up. It was too soon. The scars were still much too raw and the losses still too near to be going through something like that again.

He mulled over Trelawney's words again as he ascended the stairs.

Hagrid knew he wasn't the smartest bloke in the world but even he could see the obvious message in some of the phrases. There was only one evil he could remember that she would be warning about - but how? He was dead! Really dead this time…wasn't he? He had seen the corps with his own eyes.

As he reached the Headmistresses office door he could hear voices on the other side. It was clear to him that McGonagall was in conference with the portraits of the past Heads. He was reluctant to knock at first but realized the importance of what he was carrying and knew she would want to be informed.

He knocked a bit louder than he had intended and he realized the office beyond went completely silent.

“Come.” He heard McGonagall's muffled voice say from the other side of the door.

As Hagrid swept into the room he noticed all eyes on him. He glanced up to see Dumbledore looking down on him with a touch of amusement in his gaze.

“Evenin' Headmistress,” Hagrid said a bit nervous and nodded to the portrait hanging above McGonagall's head, “Professor.”

Dumbledore's likeness nodded with a warm smile but said nothing as Hagrid's attention fell back to the Headmistress.

“To what do I owe this unusual meeting Rubeus?” McGonagall asked peering at him over her tiny spectacles.

Hagrid blushed. He wasn't used to being addressed by his first name. He got right to the point.

“Bad business I'm afraid, Headmistress.”

McGonagall's eyebrows rose as Hagrid handed her the parchment Rosmerta had made.

She untied the parchment, uncoiled it and began to read. When she was finished she looked back up at Hagrid, a confused look on her face.

“I'm not certain I understand Rubeus. What does this mean?”

He recalled what happened at the Three Broomsticks less than an hour before. He watched as all the blood drained from the old Headmistresses face. The office was as still and silent as death.

“Are you absolutely certain Rubeus?” McGonagall asked in a dry voice. Her throat seemed to seize up.

Hagrid nodded and with that the office exploded into a cacophony of shouts, arguments and discussions from all the portraits in the room. Questions and comments were flying at them from every direction.

“What is the meaning of this,” yelled Everard.

“This is most upsetting,” hollered Dilys Derwent

“Can this mean the Dark Lord has returned…again? Preposterous!” shouted Armando Dippet.

“I've always said that barmy old woman was a few knuts short of a galleon,” added Phineas Nigellus Black.

Finally an aggravated McGonagall stood abruptly.

“SILENCE!” She hollered, “Please! I need a moment to think.”

Behind her she could hear Dumbledore chuckling under his breath.

“Well done Headmistress,” Dumbledore mumbled, “I didn't think you had it in you. Quite impressive.”

She glanced over her shoulder with such a dour look it made even him fall silent. McGonagall looked back at Hagrid.

“You say Sibyll uttered these words just now - tonight?”

“Yes Professor,” Hagrid said in a rather shaky voice, “Have you any clue what all tha' migh' mean?”

She sat for a moment and studied the words on the parchment.

“Evil stirs once more in darkness. Born unto the house of the serpent,” she repeated, “It's rather obvious who that refers to I would think…any thoughts Albus?” McGonagall turned to look speculatively up at the old Headmaster's image.

Dumbledore's painted eyes twinkled even from the canvas of his portrait as he stroked his long white beard for a moment lost in thought.

“The meaning of that statement seems obvious on the surface dear Minerva but I'm not quite certain it's that simple.” Dumbledore mused.

“It rarely ever is,” McGonagall sighed, “Please explain?”

“Well,” Dumbledore said, “We are relatively certain Tom Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort is quite dead, is he not?”

“Yes,” McGonagall responded, “I'm quite certain. His lifeless remains were sent to St. Mungo's. I saw the corps myself as did many others. What do you mean by relatively certain Albus?”

Dumbledore's image chuckled slightly.

“You do recall his proclivity for defying death?”

“What are you saying Albus?” McGonagall asked, becoming a bit nervous not certain she wanted to know the answer.

“All I'm saying, my dear friend, is that Tom Riddle was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin's Coat Of Arms contained a snake or what could be described as a serpent yes?”

“Of course,” McGonagall replied, “That is a well documented fact Albus. What of it?”

Dumbledore smiled again.

“That statement doesn't specifically name Tom Riddle. It simply states that evil stirs again once more. That being said one could surmise the possibility that there may be another…”

Dumbledore's response was followed by a long stretch of silence. It was Hagrid who broached it first.

“Another what professor?”

“Not precisely a what my dear Hagrid…but a whom I would think.” Dumbledore replied.

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore's portrait with shock.

“Are you saying what I think you're saying Albus?” She inquired.

“While it is only speculation on my part dear Minerva, I think yes. I am saying what you think I am saying.” Dumbledore's smile was that of great amusement as if he were enjoying himself immensely.

McGonagall was becoming a bit flustered. All the portraits in the room began buzzing in hushed but exited conversations with one-another. It was old Everard who piped up.

“You're saying there could be another heir of Slytherin Albus? I don't ever recall old Salazar having more than one child with his wife.”

“True…true,” Dumbledore replied, “but do you recall his wife's sir-name?”

All the portraits looked at each other with confusion. McGonagall's hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide. She had remembered.

“Salazar's wife's maiden name was…Black!”

“Quite right Headmistress,” Dumbledore gleefully stated, “I believe her first name was Isadora if I recall correctly. Hence the connection of the Black family to the Hogwarts Co-Founder, however you must also recall there is a connection of Slytherin to the Gaunt Family name as well. The only connection to this name I could find in Ministry records was with one Elladora Black born in 1850 I believe. The only record to connect the Gaunt name is a single marriage certificate issued to Elladora and one Magnus Gaunt in 1871. It was through this single document I was able to make the connection of Tom Riddle to the Slytherin name all those years ago when I found him in that orphanage.”

“I believe Salazar's wife's name was actually Illzadora Headmaster,” Phineas Black corrected.

Dumbledore nodded, “I stand corrected Phineas.”

“So why was this fact left out of the Black Family history,” Minerva asked.

Dumbledore's held a hand toward Phineas Black's portrait.

“I believe we must consult a Black family expert for that answer.”

The old Slytherin Headmaster's face contorted as if he was chewing on something that tasted unpleasant. McGonagall crossed her arms and glared at the painting.

“Well Phineas?” She asked haughtily.

“It was because Magnus Gaunt was a Muggle!” Phineas spit, “Elladora was a disgrace to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!”

The rest of the paintings murmured loudly.

“You knew?” McGonagall said. She suddenly looked as if she had been confunded.

“Did I know then young Tom was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? Yes. Did I know he would grow up to become the Dark Lord Voldemort? Of course not however I suspected he would be…how shall I put it…different.”

“So what does all that have to do with this new prophecy Albus?” Phineas Nigellus Black inquired.

“I'm certain I'm not sure Phineas however a clue lies in the next statement of this new prophecy I think.” Dumbledore peered down at Minerva with a playful smile.

McGonagall turned back to the parchment and read the next line out loud.

“Ancient's magic within youth disguised,” McGonagall turned again to Dumbledore's portrait expectantly, “I'm not sure I follow Headmaster.”

“If we take that statement at face value one could ascertain that it could be someone young in years protected by ancient magic much as Harry Potter was protected by Lilly's sacrifice those years before. However, if you examine the statement more closely…”

McGonagall studied the phrase on the parchment for a long moment until her head snapped up.

“I don't think that's what this phrase is saying at all Headmaster!”

“Really?” Dumbledore looked surprised, “What is your assessment Headmistress?”

“I believe it could be telling us that someone old…very old may be disguised as someone much younger.” McGonagall replied looking up at the portrait.

Dumbledore's face split in a wide grin.

“Excellent deduction my dear Minerva,” The old Headmaster said, “I believe you've hit the head on the nail as the Muggles would say.”

“Erm…beggin' yer pardon Professor Dumbledore sir,” Hagrid interjected a bit sheepishly, “I thin' tha's hittin' the nail on the head but ye' were close.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore grinned, “Of course. Thank you Rubeus.”

McGonagall gave them both a look of irritated contempt.

“Would it be possible for us to remain focused on the matter at hand?”

Both Dumbledore and Hagrid reddened brightly. When Minerva turned back toward her desk to continue to decipher the phrases before her Dumbledore stuck his tongue out at the Headmistress.

Hagrid had to turn around to stifle a sudden fit of laughter that threatened to spill out. Luckily McGonagall noticed nothing but all the rest of the portraits were stifling their own grins and chuckles.

“So what are we to make of the final two lines of this phrase?” McGonagall asked no-one in particular, “Will unchain the dead from restless slumber…To awaken upon the Savior's demise.”

“It seems to suggest,” McGonagall continued, “the possibility that someone who is deceased at present will be brought back to life…but that's impossible. No-one can be brought back from the dead. You've said so many times yourself have you not Albus?”

“Indeed Minerva,” Dumbledore's visage changed from jovial playfulness to serious insightfulness in an instant. “I agree those who've…gone on can not be brought back to the living world as we know it but what if the one spoken of here has not…passed on yet.”

McGonagall glared at his image on the canvas again.

“I swear Albus if you don't cease speaking in riddles I'll have your portrait transferred to the boy's lavatory on the second floor!”

He held up his hands, his eyes twinkling again.

“I mean no disrespect Minerva. I'm merely suggesting that it's possible for some to linger. Think of the Hogwarts Ghosts for example. While they are not here among you in corporal form you can see and interact with them. It is the same for us contained within our portraits. We are not alive in the conventional sense but we are here just the same, are we not? And I don't think it a stretch of our imagination to consider who the Savior is the prophecy speaks of.”

All within the Headmistresses office mulled over Dumbledore's words in silence for a long moment.

McGonagall found herself collapsing into her chair behind her desk staring at nothing in particular.

“Oh no,” she whispered bringing her hand to her mouth, “Magical Saints preserve us Albus, not again! The poor lad! I think Harry Potter has had enough of this kind of nonsense to last a lifetime. Who else could the Savior be?”

“Not again. Tha's just what Rosie and I said when we heard Sibyll speak those words Professor.” Hagrid added, “So what do we do now? Who do you thin' the youth is the prophecy is talkin' abou'?”

“I have no clue Rubeus,” McGonagall replied with a tired grimace. Her mind turned over all the possibilities of someone that might fit that description and one face in particular kept coming up in her mind but she brushed it aside for reasons unknown. It was preposterous, ridiculous enough not to share it with the others.

Hagrid looked at the Headmistress with a worried expression.

“Do ye' thin' we should warn Harry?” He asked.

It was Dumbledore who responded.

“While I am the first to take Harry's safety into consideration I don't think it wise to burden the lad with this just yet. I think everyone will agree he is most capable of taking care of himself. I believe whatever this prophecy reveals will manifest itself in time just as it did before. Revealing details prematurely my prevent events from occurring at all.”

“But he could be in grave danger Professor sir!” Hagrid replied adamantly.

“I believe many underestimate Harry's abilities. You must remember he has Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley who will assist in times such as these. They make a formidable triumvirate if I do say so myself.”

“The Golden Trio,” McGonagall whispered with lips pursed.

“Indeed!” Dumbledore said with a wide smile and settled back into his chair folding his hands on his lap as he relaxed. The twinkle in his painted eyes never had shown brighter.

End…Part One

A/N…After doing a few various forms of research I've discovered there isn't much that exists to connect Slytherin to the Black Family so I've taken creative license here to make that connection using canon names and history. I heard a statement somewhere that informed us that `back in the day' it wasn't unusual for Pure-Blood Wizard families to inter-marry so one could assume that would have been true for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black as well.

There isn't much information that exists about Slytherin's family tree and his connection to the family name of Gaunt however the Gaunt connection to Tom Riddle is well documented.

One thing that does puzzle me is the Gaunt connection to the Peverell name. If you recall Marvolo's ring possessed the symbols of the Hallows which was believed to be the Peverell Coat of Arms. If the Gaunts came into possession of said ring by inheritance then it would suggest some form of Peverell connection to the Slytherin name as well, hence a connection (somewhere down the family tree) to the Potter Family name. I found this connection (although unconfirmed) quite curious and a bit confusing.

Many thanks to Steve Vander Ark's (on line) Lexicon for containing excellent reference information. It has helped immensely in the creation of this story!

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14. 14 - The Ministry of Magic

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter 14 - The Ministry for Magic

Arthur Weasley stood looking out over nighttime downtown London with hands clasped behind his back. The large picture window of his office at the Ministry ran with streaks of rain that lashed the enchanted view. Crooked fingers of lightning lit up the city with a dull white light as the low rumble of thunder followed close behind.

The early fall, or perhaps late summer, storms that rumbled over the British Isles was typical for this time of year. It was fitting to his mood none the less.

He had imagined many times what it would be like to sit at the Minister's post but nothing in his most elaborate musings could have prepared him for the utter mess he now faced.

He recalled very clearly what he had felt when he was told he had been nominated to the top job. He was thrilled, elated and flattered beyond comprehension. The pomp and pageantry of the swearing in ceremony was filled with happiness and a clear sense of relief for all. Now, after only three weeks as Minister, he was beginning to realize he may have prematurely jumped feet first and completely blindfolded into a proverbial meat grinder.

The Ministry was in utter chaos after the occupation by Voldemort's lot. While most of the damage and destruction was confined to the office of the Minister and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the Death Eaters and those under their control had done their jobs well.

It took more than a week just to sort out the Minister's office and wade through the devastated records from the past administrations. It was only yesterday that his son Bill managed to break through the entangled magic that was placed on the Minister's vault and safes that contained highly sensitive Ministry financial information only to find almost all the existing Ministry funds had been stolen.

Millions of galleaons in Wizard bonds and tax receipts had been liberated leaving the Ministry on the verge of financial collapse.

At once, Arthur had attempted to invoke a little known Ministry law that was put in place to protect Ministry assets from just such a thing but Gringotts was being very uncooperative at present.

The Goblins were still plenty sore about the breach of security at the Wizard bank as well as the massive amount of damage done to the age-old establishment. They were angry no-one had been prosecuted and punished for the crime. If it were not for the fact that Bill was a Weasley the Goblins would not have given him permission to break the curses that seemed to entangle the entire Ministry.

The Wizengamot had issued a provision that, in the case of theft or attempted embezzlement all Ministry financial assets and accounts would be automatically frozen for protection and no one individual could claim or cash in stolen bonds or gain access to Ministry assets. This was indeed the case. The Goblins clamped down the Ministry accounts and refused to allow access to the assets by his office.

It would take a unanimous decision by the Wizengamot to gain access to any of the Ministry accounts and at present, with some members of the wizard governing body being implicated as Death Eater sympathizers, a full meeting of the Wizengamot was almost impossible for now. However, even then, without the actual bonds being in the possession of the Ministry access would still be denied.

To make matters even more complicated, Arthur's first meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister had not gone well. It had been only two days after he had been sworn in as the new Minister for Magic when the Prime Minister had sent a message demanding a meeting at once.

As a result of that meeting Arthur had been informed, none too politely, his administration would be held financially accountable for a vast majority of the damage sustained to muggle London as a result of what the Prime Minister called “your war!” The Muggles expected reparations to the bridge that was destroyed as well as many other buildings and structures. The amount of galleons necessary to cover the cost was going to be staggering to say the least.

The Prime Minister also informed Arthur any Civil liability that arose from Muggles missing or outright killed during the conflict would be passed on to his administration as well.

After the meeting Arthur felt like a well beaten bludger after a grueling Quidditch match. He also felt Wizard/Muggle relations had taken a major step backward.

Adding all that to the antics of his son Ronald he was beginning to think he had made a horrible mistake in accepting his appointment. Even though Arthur cared little what other's thought of him and his family Ron's indiscretions had, much to his dismay, given his new administration an unintended black eye with many of the wizard public.

If it had not been for Percy's quick thinking and insightfulness in such matters things would have been much worse. The Undersecretary's timely and well thought out press conference had eased much of the tension and pressure being put on his office. It was the first of its kind since Arthur could remember. Usually the Wizard Press just chased down and accosted whoever they wanted to question without regard for privacy. This new way was much more organized and kept the Minister insulated from being hounded by those wanting answers to questions he wasn't sure he could answer.

Arthur remembered the meeting well. Percy had been brilliant.

A room had been hastily prepared down on the second floor in the Division of Wizengamot Administration Services. It was about the only secure location within the Ministry at the moment.

Percy Weasley had sent owls to as many members of the Wizard Press as he could find within the Ministry records. With the date and time of the press conference set Arthur had voiced his concerns and skepticisms of Percy's decision.

“Do you think it wise to call attention to all that is happening just now Percy? It seems to me it would be better to wait until we had some good news to convey.” Arthur looked at Percy with eyebrows pinched together.

“We need to get on top of this situation Minister. There is much rumor and speculation floating around out there right now. You've read the Prophet. You know what people are saying. We need to set the record straight and try to stop some of the bleeding before things get beyond our control.”

Arthur looked pointedly at his son. He was proud of Percy for how he had stepped up and took charge of keeping the `hounds' at bay and standing between him and the muddled nonsense that battered at his office door daily. It allowed Arthur to focus on the important matters he needed to attend to.

“Promise me you won't lie or use those old misdirection tactics Cornelius Fudge used to use?” Arthur asked.

Percy cracked a wry grin, “I promise Dad…I mean Minister, nothing but the truth as we know it.”

The meeting room was filled with eager-looking faces of every stripe as the Undersecretary stepped to the podium set on a raised platform at the front. A low rumble of buzzing conversations came to an abrupt halt and the only sounds that could be heard as Percy took to the platform were those of his own footsteps on the hollow wooden dais.

When he reached the podium hands started reaching for the ceiling and questions began being hurled at him from all sides. The noise was almost stifling. When Percy held up both hands the crowd quieted almost at once but there were some who would not be denied. A few questions lingered but he chose to ignore them. He had a clear set agenda and was not about to be bullied into changing it.

“Please…please,” Percy said loudly to quell any opposition to his control over the proceedings, “I assure you, you will have a chance to pose your inquiries but I have a statement I would like to make that may answer many of them. Please hold your questions until then.”

Percy paused looking out over the crowd waiting until he was sure everyone was willing to cooperate. When they all sat in silence he continued.

He knew these reporters and media people were like piranha. If they smelled just a hint of blood the feeding frenzy would be ugly and vicious. Many still smarted from being completely hoodwinked by the Fudge Administration and the complete tight-lipped office of the useless Rufus Scrimgeour. Percy had recognized many of the faces in the crowd and remembered how Fudge had manipulated all of them. Now, however, was not the time for innuendo or misdirection. He cleared his throat.

“As many of you know this new administration is being headed by a well known and much respected wizard who most of you know personally. However, having said that I feel it is my duty to remind you that he has only been in office for three weeks.”

“Arthur Weasley, our new Minister for Magic has inherited an administration in turmoil, not only from the Death Eater occupation but from the past three administrations as well. As many of you already know those administration's tenures were short-lived and left many more questions then answers.”

“The first issue I would like to address is one of grave concern. There is speculation that there has been wide spread infiltration of the Wizengamot by the former Dark Lord's followers…”

With that statement many sat up straighter and listened intently with quills poised over parchment or `Quick-Quotes” quills quivering in anticipation of his next words.

“The truth is that at present I cannot comment on that particular issue due to an ongoing investigation into these allegations within the Ministry. I can assure you there is no immediate threat from any of Voldemort's known associates and any found to be sympathetic to his cause will be uncovered and dealt with appropriately.”

“Irregardless of what you've heard about the state of the Ministry at present I can assure you we are in complete control. Yes, things are in disarray right now but we are working tirelessly in setting the various departments to right.”

“As many of you also know, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been appointed as Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and has submitted plans for significant changes to that Department pending approval from not only the Minister's office but the Wizengamot as well.”

“I'm sure many of you have seen the increased Auror presence in such places as Diagon Alley and around Hogsmeade. These are some of the preliminary changes that are taking place.”

“However, due to the current state of the investigations any meetings of the full administrative body have been suspended until our investigations have been concluded. I have been told by the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement it will be approximately two weeks hence.”

“The Minister has had an initial meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister to discuss issues pertaining to the Muggle world addressing the damage caused by this recent conflict. Negotiations are on-going so details of those negotiations cannot be revealed for obvious reasons. Relations with the Muggle world are strained at present as I'm sure you can all understand so it is a very delicate situation that needs to be handled with the utmost discretion.”

“After much discussion the Minister has decided to appoint a liaison to the office of the Prime Minister to alleviate some of the pressure. Former Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge has been assigned to that post via the Department of Muggle Affairs Office and will report directly to the Minister.”

That announcement caused the crowd of reporters to buzz with hushed conversations. A few brave correspondents even went so far as to stand up but were quelled by the Undersecretary's raised hands.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen you will all have your chance to ask questions in a moment. Please bear with me…” Percy waited until the gathering quieted once again, “Thank you.”

“The decision to appoint Mr. Fudge to the position of liaison was due to the former Minister's familiarity of the Muggle Prime Minister's office. We felt it important to have a familiar face in place to work with the Muggle world at present. We feel Mr. Fudge is most qualified to competently carry out his duties as liaison and will be an asset to the Ministry in this position.”

Percy took a long breath and continued.

“I know many of you have questions regarding our relationship with Gringotts and the Goblins. At present relations are strained with them as well as a result of what occurred during the conflict with the Dark Lord Voldemort. I assure you we are doing everything within our power to improve the situation between the Goblin community and wizards. Please understand that the Minister's office has no official comment on this particular situation and will be working as best we can with the Goblins to repair this relationship as expediently as possible.”

“On a more pleasant note, I would like to announce that reparations to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are complete and the new school term will begin as scheduled. The Ministry would like to thank everyone who volunteered and worked tirelessly to bring our historical educational institution back to its former glory. Those involved should be praised for their diligence and self-sacrifice to get the job done. Thank you one and all.”

“In the very near future The Minister's office as well as the Wizengamot hope to be announcing the latest recipients of the prestigious Order of Merlin to be awarded for bravery and sacrifice to the cause of freedom and justice during this latest conflict with the dark forces that threatened our lives. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen we all here at the Ministry take the sacrifices by so many very seriously and wish to reward those who paid the ultimate price for our security. As many of you may know that sacrifice hit very close to me personally as well as the members of my family and the Order of the Phoenix.”

Percy paused to gather his suddenly scattered thoughts as memories of Fred flooded his mind.

“We will announce the date and time of the Award Ceremony as soon our investigations have been concluded.”

“Now…” Percy looked out over the crowd with apprehension and dread at the thought of what kind of questions he would shortly be subjected to but he had asked for this so, thrusting his chin forward he continued, “as I promised you may begin your questions as I call on you.”

Almost everyone in the throng stood with hands raised. Percy looked out over them and selected a person at random. He pointed to a tall, skinny woman wearing a lime green hat.

“Delilah Dillywig, Daily Prophet. Thank you, Undersecretary for taking my question. Is it true what they are saying about Digby Danforth? Has he been implicated as a Voldemort supporter?”

Percy groaned internally. They would push for classified information and he was bound by duty to stand his ground. He knew it would make this administration seem evasive and secretive but there was no help for it.

“As I said prior, I can not comment on any of our investigations at this time as it may compromise them. Any member of the Wizengamot implicated as possible associates of the Death Eaters will be discovered and dealt with according to our laws.”

While Ms. Dillywig didn't appear to be all that pleased with the response she made no further protest. Percy pointed at the next reporter.

“Anatol Zanzibar, Bulgarian Wizard News, Undersecretary. What about the remaining Death Eaters who are still at large?”

Percy's response to that question was immediate and decisive.

“We are aware that there still may be some minor players still at large but as you should know most of Voldemort's high level subordinates were killed in the final confrontation at Hogwarts. I have been assured by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that finding and bringing to justice any remaining followers of the Dark Lord is our number one priority. However, to our knowledge there have been no reported attacks or incidents involving what remains of Voldemort's camp but we remain on full alert just the same.”

The foreign correspondent's quill quivered across his parchment as he nodded in response. For the most part everyone was being sensible and Percy began to relax slightly but he knew the tough questions were yet to come. He nodded to the next person.

“Fenton Arbuckle, Daily Prophet. What about Lucius Malfoy? I heard he has been taken into custody?”

“Yes,” Percy replied, “Lucius Malfoy has been detained by the Ministry and awaits trial before the full Wizengamot however as I previously stated any hearings have been postponed due to the on-going investigations. We are not prepared to set a trail date at present but as soon as we do you will be among the first to know.”

“Sebastian Brint-Humbolt, International Wizard Press. Will he receive the Dementor's Kiss?”

“I cannot answer that question. It will be up to the Wizengamot to decide Lucius Malfoy's fate.”

He pointed at the women to his right.

“Gloria McDoogal, Scottish Wizard-Times. I must say, Undersecretary this press meeting was a brilliant idea. My question is, are there any Death Eaters left in the Ministry? Those who bear the Dark Mark?”

“Thank you Miss McDoogal. We thought this much more organized and informative than what the press was previously subjected to by past administrations. I'm glad you approve. To answer your inquiry there are none that we are aware of. Our initial sweep of Ministry Personnel has not revealed anyone from Voldemort's camp but Kingsley is still looking into those matters as well as many others at present.”

“Gustov Prestovinichek, Albanian Wizard-Herald. Is the wizard public in danger of any reprisals from survivors of the Dark Lord's followers?”

“While I am certain there is no major threat the truth is…until we've rounded up all who were in league with Voldemort the Ministry will remain on high alert. I would be remiss if I did not caution everyone to remain diligent and watchful for any suspicious behavior. Having said that however, we do not wish to create paranoia nor do we encourage the public to partake in `witch hunts' as the old saying goes. We will investigate any and all claims of the conduct of dark magic or subversive behavior but please allow the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to conduct the investigations. We don't want to imprison our neighbors for having a bad case of spattergroit or something equally as silly.”

There was a smattering of laughter throughout the crowd at that response.

“Randolph Hurzog, London Times, Undersecretary.”

At that announcement many of the witches and wizards in the crowd sucked in a collective gasp. It was unexpected for a muggle reporter to be in their midst.

“Is there any danger from the remaining Dementors? Are they still on the loose?”

“That's an excellent question Mr. Hurzog and the answer is no. All the original surviving Dementors have been rounded up by the Ministry and are back under our control however there may be a few breeding grounds yet to be discovered but we are still looking for them.”

“The Minister's office is in the process of producing a pamphlet that will educate the wizard public about Dementors, how to recognize one and what to do if one is encountered. This is highly unlikely but just to be on the side of safety we will be distributing those within the next few days. Zeno Lovegood, the editor of the Quibbler has graciously volunteered to produce, publish, print and distribute those for us and we would like to thank him for his generosity and good will.”

Percy paused with a quizzical look on his face.

“I must ask, Mr. Hurzog - I'm just a bit more than curious why the Muggle press is interested in wizard affairs? Surely you're not planning on printing this in the Times? It would be a serious breech in the International Statute of Secrecy would it not?”

It seemed that the entire room was holding its collective breath waiting for his response to the Undersecretary's plausible question.

“I assure you Undersecretary,” Mr. Hurzog replied, “I'm her on the behest of the Prime Minister's office and any information I collect shall go no further than his desk.”

“I see,” Percy sighed in slight relief, “Very good then.”

At that moment Rita Skeeter stood and without introduction, preamble or recognition from the podium fired off those questions Percy had been dreading. She stood swathed in expensive jewelry and impeccably dressed in custom-tailored business robes that announced her recent success with her literary efforts. The smug smile that plastered her overly-plump lips seemed to leave all with the impression of someone who thrives on controversy and stirring up the pot of gossip and subtle innuendo.

Percy cringed inwardly as he prepared himself for what he knew would be a distasteful experience.

“Does the Minister think it wise to appoint Cornelius Fudge to the position of Muggle Liaison? Seems to me he greatly abused his powers as Minister to try and subjugate the truth of Voldemort's return. If Wizard/Muggle relations are as tenuous as you say why should the Minister trust him to this important position?”

Percy took a deep breath and considered her question. He had to admit he had asked the same question of the Minister when his father told him of his plan.

“The Minister has the utmost confidence in Mr. Fudge's ability to carry out his duties in the position without question and the rest of his officers are behind this appointment as well. While there may be some question concerning Mr. Fudge's appointment as a result of his previous administration I assure you those issues have been addressed and discussed at length. Mr. Fudge has graciously accepted the post and has expressed nothing less than complete loyalty to the cause. The Prime Minister agrees and at present that means volumes in this climate.”

Percy leaned over the podium and stared pointedly at Ms. Skeeter.

“The Minister, as well as I, believes everyone deserves a second chance...” he paused dramatically, “Don't you, Ms. Skeeter?”

She knew at once he was referring to her subversive activity at Hogwarts years before regarding how she was able to get within the confines of such a secure location to gain access to certain inside details. She had just barely kept the subsequent discovery of her being an unregistered Animagus out of the press. She still cursed the little `busy-body' who discovered her secret.

Rita blushed to the roots of her copper-colored hair but pressed on without pause.

“You are the Minister's son, are you not? Mr. Weasley? Do you think it a conflict of interest to have a family member in such a high ranking position within the Minister's camp? Do you not have a position of influence over the Minister's decisions?”

Percy's visage took on a dark hue for the briefest of moments as he turned his gaze to Rita Skeeter's benign smiling face. His voice remained calm and controlled but dropped to a deep resonance that emanated authority.

“I assure you that my last name has little to do with my dedication to my position. I take the job of Undersecretary very seriously no matter whose name in on the Minister's office door. I was, much to my dismay, just as loyal to the Fudge Administration at the time of his tenure in office. While some of his decisions were questionable, I stood by my appointment as Assistant Secretary and did not question the Minister's rationality. Some say I should have but my loyalty was with the Office, not the man. I'm sure if I become unstable in my position or start making questionable decisions you all,” he swept the gathering with an arm, “will be more than willing to let me know right away.”

Percy smiled out at the crowd genuinely. Some of the agents laughed heartily at his statement. Rita wasted no time in dropping the next bomb.

“Do you have any comment on the antics of one of the Golden Trio, Ronald Weasley who is, I presume, one of your brother's if I'm not mistaken. How does his…” Rita paused for dramatic effect, “behaviors reflect on the current Administration?”

Percy inwardly cringed at the inquiry. He knew the subject would be breached and he was fully prepared to respond but it still made his insides squirm uncomfortably. It simply amazed him that with all the other more important issues to worry over this frivolous drivel needed to be addressed. Even he was surprised that the wizard public even cared about such things at present but here he was, standing in the proverbial spotlight requesting he answer for his brother's stupid indiscretions in an official capacity. It was simply ridiculous. He took a deep breath, leaned forward on the podium and plastered a very stern but neutral look on his face.

“Please allow me to make something very clear to you all. The Minister's office has no official comment on the conduct of Ronald Weasley or anything that may, or may not be reported on this lad in the press. Yes, Mr. Weasley is the Minister's son and as his father these issues are being handled.”

“This side issue has no bearing on the Minister's official capacity and has no effect on his ability to carry out his duties as an elected official of his office. We would appreciate that your questions pertain to issues related to his office and not those of a personal nature. However, unofficially, Mr. Ronald Weasley will be attending his final term at Hogwarts this fall to finish his education at the request of his parents. What he chooses to do upon graduation is his own choice.”

“We would hope that his contribution to the demise of Voldemort and the subsequent destruction of the Death Eaters, which was substantial, would overshadow any silly adolescent mistakes of judgment that may have occurred over the past few weeks. Need I remind you there are much larger problems to contemplate and correct at present.”

With his response Rita Skeeter seemed to physically shrink in size. Even though she still stood with her smarmy little smirk splayed across her face and her Quick Quotes Quill quivering ceaselessly across her notebook everyone in the room knew she had just been verbally spanked by the administration. The only recognition of that by Rita was the small rosy little patches that appeared on her cheeks.

With as much dignity and aloofness as she could retain she sat back in her seat. The rest of the session were general questions about disappearances and deaths as well as the state of the various Ministry departments and what was being done to correct them.

The correspondent from the London Times inquired about the many missing or dead Muggles. While it was difficult for Percy to put into words how horrible the idea was that those of his world had been responsible for the deaths of so many, what he did not tell him was that the administration possessed the knowledge that it was a list that was created by Hermione Granger that was used to systematically eliminate those who were placed on it innocently for no other reason than abhorrent evil. There was no reason he could think of to throw the young woman to the lions for such a thing. All agreed it wasn't her fault so that was the only truth he had kept from the press that day.

His conscience was clear.

When the stories and articles came out the following day the tone of those reports were much less vitriolic and hateful. Almost all praised the Ministry for the press meeting and considered it a smashing success. To Percy's knowledge, there was only one who had anything detrimental to say about it. One didn't need to possess an extensive imagination to figure out who that was.

While there was only a small portion of her article in the Prophet devoted to blasting, quite anemically, the Ministry for being as secretive and closed-lipped as always Rita Skeeter seemed more interested in announcing the first edition of her new publication, The Wizardly Inquisitor. It was touted to be a weekly publication devoted to what she described as “the true truth” whatever that was.

She was also more than thrilled to announce the up-coming release of her new book,' The Demise of Darkness; The Final Days of Lord Voldemort' but what struck Percy as significant was there was absolutely no mention of Ron's name anywhere in the article as being the source of the book. That suited him just fine for now. He would worry about the details later.

They all had enough to worry about at present.

-->

15. 15 - Assistance

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Fifteen - Assistance

When Harry opened his eyes he found himself disconcerted for a moment. While he remembered Hermione pleading with him to stay the night before and recalled settling in what she had called their guest room for the night he still found himself a bit out-of-sorts to realize he wasn't in #12.

The room was three times the size of his old room at the Dursley's and larger yet than Sirius' room at #12. The furnishings were all modern and the décor was quite nice. The bed he had slept in was huge in comparison to any other he had ever been in and quite comfortable.

He lay there in wonder that his life had been so utilitarian. He also wondered if most other Muggles lived this way.

Surely not? Hermione's parents were professionals. That afforded them a bit more than most others…didn't it?

It amazed him just how limited his views and experiences were of either world he was part of. He was brought out of his reverie by the sounds of soft footsteps in the hall. As he listened they stopped just outside his room door. There was a soft knock followed by Hermione's timid voice.

“Harry? Are you awake?”

Harry reached for his glasses and sat up. He realized he was wearing a pair of dark blue pajama bottoms. He knew at once they must have been Mr. Grangers because Harry had never owned such a nice pair of sleeping trousers.

“Yes Hermione,” he replied, “I'm up.” He looked around the room and could see it had an adjoining bathroom in the far right corner. The door was slightly ajar and he could see a sink and mirror above. “I'll be out in a moment. I just want to wash up a bit. Is that alright?”

“Of course it's alright,” Hermione answered, “What a silly question! I'll be in the kitchen when you're finished. I'll put some coffee on and I think I might be able to find something to eat. I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook.”

“Not to worry,” Harry said with a smile as he made his way to the lavatory, “I'll help with breakfast. I've had plenty of practice.”

After washing up and doing his business he scourgified the clothes he had on the night before and went to find Hermione in the kitchen mostly shuffling things about without actually doing any cooking. The smell of rich Turkish coffee seemed to fill the whole first floor as he entered the modern space.

When he found Hermione she was reading the preparation instructions on a package of porridge. He chuckled to himself until he took in what his best friend was wearing. When it finally sunk into his sleep-hazed brain he almost swallowed his tongue.

Hermione was wearing nothing more than a very thin white tank top and a very small pair of white boy shorts. Her hair was a mess but she had captured her long tresses into a hasty pony tail tied with what looked like an old shoelace. He couldn't help but think she looked a bit discombobulated but as he took in her appearance from her small bare feet to the tip of her cute little nose he couldn't help but realize how suddenly warm the kitchen was.

He tried desperately to quell the thoughts that were invading his mind at the moment as he moved to look over her shoulder. The sad smile she gave him when she looked up almost made his heart skip a beat or two.

“Morning,” Hermione said, “How does porridge sound? It's about all I know how to make without the possibility of burning down the entire house.”

Harry reached out and snatched the package from her grasp with a wry grin.

“You mean there's something I know how to do the clever Ms. Granger doesn't? I should alert the Daily Prophet. They might want to put it on the front page.”

Hermione folded her arms and gave Harry a rather dark look. He had to tear his gaze from her as he discovered how thin the material of her tank top was.

“I think that's more the Quibbler's type of headline,” Hermione replied.

“Just point me to the food and stand back,” Harry said chuckling, “I'll take care of the rest. I guess all those years living with the Dursley's wasn't a total waste.”

Harry busied himself making them a scrumptious breakfast of scrambled eggs, perfectly light and fluffy mixed with tender chunks of honey ham and cheese. He added chopped and fried potatoes and lightly toasted slices of bread on the griddle to finish things off.

“Harry, this is delicious!” Hermione gushed as she completely annihilated two whole plates of the tasty nosh.

“Thanks,” Harry replied with a smile, “Nice to be able to take care of you instead of it being the other way round.”

Sadness washed across Hermione's features for an instant and it made Harry regret having said it but she rallied quickly to the blank, emotionless look that seemed to dominate her character of late.

“So what are your plans for today?” Hermione asked.

Harry simply shrugged.

“Don't really have any plans to speak of.” he replied a bit glumly, “It's not like I can take a stroll or hang out in Diagon Alley or something. That would probably cause a bloody riot, ridiculous really. What about you?”

“I'm off to St. Mungo's this morning to see my parents then I thought I would pop over to Hogwarts. I'm going to ask Headmistress McGonagall if I can use the library to do some research on their condition now the school is mostly repaired…see if I can find some kind of solution. There has to be something somewhere that can tell me what happened to their memories. There's plenty about Wizards who've suffered memory loss and spell damage but almost nothing exists about Muggles. It's almost as if we don't count.”

Harry didn't miss the desperation in her voice or the worried look that settled upon her beautiful face. He was all too aware of the prejudices that existed between Wizards and Muggles. The sentiments reached far beyond Voldemort. He had been witness to both sides of it. He remembered how his Aunt and Uncle viewed those of the magical world and the ill feelings Wizards had toward Muggles was well documented throughout history.

It didn't make it any easier to realize Hermione was caught between both worlds with the struggles she now found herself in. He suddenly wished he had paid more attention in both his Muggle schools and at Hogwarts. He felt like a complete brainless oaf sitting next to her.

If she was stumped that meant there was little hope for the rest of them. That revelation made him feel slightly sick.

“Mind if I tag along with you today?” Harry asked not really knowing what else to do with himself. “I'm not sure if I can be of any help but I'll try.”

Hermione seemed to brighten only slightly but tried to offer him a smile none the less.

“Thanks Harry,” she replied, “That's awfully kind of you.”

Hermione leaned over the table and kissed Harry on the cheek. It took everything he possessed in the manners department not to gawk down her tank top when she leaned over.

If I have to endure much more of this I'm going to become completely brain dead!

Fortunately Hermione noticed nothing as a cold sweat broke out on Harry's forehead due to the fact the instead of sitting right back down Hermione lingered close to Harry for a moment looking deeply into his eyes before she reluctantly settled back into her chair.

In that moment he couldn't help recall what happened the night before. The feeling of her warm soft lips on his and the desperate way she had kissed him. He tried telling himself as he lay in bed it was just her disheveled emotional state that caused her to react but as he sat there at the kitchen table peering into her sad brown eyes he could not stop the realization something had happened. He also realized she had felt it as well.

But when Hermione blinked it was as if sobriety returned and she quickly settled back into her chair, small patches of red rising up on her cheeks.

The moments that followed found them clearing the table. Harry declared the dishes off limits seeing how he was already dressed so he shooed her off to her room to dress while he cleaned up with the help of a little magic.

It was a good feeling to use his own wand again. He found he could now perform just about any spell without having to say a word and since he had not really practiced command-less magic he thought it quite remarkable. He was almost certain it was because he had mended his wand with the Elder Wand that gave him this unique ability. It was only a guess on his part but after years of being subjected to strange things he liked to think he had become a little wiser as a result. It still left him dumb as an ox compared to Hermione but he thought maybe some of her cleverness had rubbed off along the way.

Hermione reappeared looking quite comfortable in a pair of kaki trousers and white button-up blouse. She had set her long mane into a rather intricate looking French braid that hung to her lower back.

Even though she still appeared thin she looked much better than she had in the many days previous. The worry lines on her forehead still remained prominent but she seemed to move with much more purpose. Harry couldn't help but look down at his own clothes and got the sudden feeling he was dressed like a homeless person. His worn out ill-fitting togs were getting old even for him.

Moments later they found themselves making their way to the Spell Damage ward within the Wizard hospital. Making their way toward her mother's private room they spotted a still-confunded Gilderoy Lockhart and were surprised to see Neville Longbottom talking with one of the Healers holding a rather large bouquet of flowers.

They spotted Headmistress McGonagall in a hushed discussion with two Healers just outside the Granger's room door. When she turned and spotted them a sad smile crossed her aged features.

“Well Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said, “I see you've decided to take Mr. Potter into your confidence.”

Hermione only nodded as the Healers took their leave.

“I must admit I am pleased with your decision. It is difficult enough what you are going through. Doing thus alone only serves to exacerbate the situation. In times of great tribulation one needs support from one's friends,” the Headmistresses gaze shifted pointedly to Harry, “Isn't that correct Mr. Potter?”

Harry glanced at Hermione whose expression remained impassive.

“Yes Professor,” Harry replied not taking his eyes off Hermione, “You're absolutely right.”

Hermione shifted a bit uncomfortably but lifted her chin as if to tell them she was quite capable of dealing with whatever she had to quite on her own but inside she realized the Headmistress was right as usual. She wanted to steer the attention somewhere else so she turned to face McGonagall.

“Is there any changes with my parents?” She asked expecting the obvious.

“I'm pleased to report your mother seems to be showing very slight signs of improvement in a few small areas of her past but other than that…the situation is much the same. It doesn't mean we are giving up by any means you understand Ms. Granger. We will not rest until a proper solution is uncovered and your parents are restored to their former selves. I remain confident we will find it.”

“Headmistress,” she asked, “I was wondering if it were possible to get permission to search the library at Hogwarts for anything that might help in shedding some light on my parent's problem?”

“Of course Ms. Granger,” the Headmistress responded without hesitation, “Any publication or reference material at Hogwarts is at your disposal. I have also taken the liberty to request you have unrestricted access to any information regarding memory problems contained within the reference material here at St. Mungo's as well as the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries.”

“While I realize the latter has been thoroughly searched I am also well aware of your acute ability to glean subtle information where some may not have the wherewithal to find it. I have been assured by the Head Unspeakable of his full cooperation in this matter.”

“Thank you Headmistress,” Hermione said with a heavy exhale, “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Not at all Ms. Granger,” the old Transfiguration Professor said, “It's the least I can do. Not meaning to change the subject I was wondering if you've given any further thought about returning to Hogwarts to complete your studies?”

Hermione seemed to hedge slightly but McGonagall offered a small but tight-lipped smile.

“I realize this is probably an inappropriate time to inquire but I would like to offer you some incentives for you to return,” again she turned to gaze at Harry for a moment with the same small smile, “I would make the same inquiry of you Mr. Potter however Kingsley has informed me of the offer in which he has presented to you to become a member of his staff.”

The Headmistress turned back to Hermione and continued. Hermione, in turn, glanced questioningly at Harry for an instant.

“I realize you could very well pass your N.E.W.T. level finals without much difficulty but I would like to offer you the post of Head Girl as well as the unrestricted ability to select your own curriculum for your final term. You would be able to select any class you desire to complete your studies. It would be utterly ridiculous for us to think you would be anything but completely successful.”

Hermione's eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in amazement at what she was hearing. This was completely unprecedented and knew at once there had never been a student who attended Hogwarts or any other Magical Training Academy that had ever been given such an honor. She didn't quite know how to respond.

McGonagall recognized her young protégé's hesitance.

“You do not have to respond at once Ms. Granger. There is still time before the next term starts in the fall. Think it over won't you?”

Hermione had turned quite pink upon receiving that request.

“I will Headmistress and thank you,” Hermione replied then added, “not just for the kind and very generous offer but for all your help with…well, everything!”

“Nonsense,” McGonagall said as she drifted away, “There are those of us who feel just as responsible for all this as you Ms. Granger. Please keep me apprised of any breakthroughs you may find in your research.”

“Yes ma'am.” Hermione answered, “You'll be the first to know.”

When Harry reached for the doorknob to open her parent's room door Hermione placed a hand gently on his arm and looked seriously into his eyes.

“Harry, what did the Headmistress mean about Kingsley's offer?”

Harry quickly told her what Kingsley had proposed to him several nights before when he came to strengthen the wards on #12.

Hermione said nothing but the look on her face told Harry that she didn't really approve. He knew she would not want him putting himself into the path of rouge Death Eaters curses again but she also knew she had no right to tell him what he should do.

“I told him I would think about it. I didn't say I would do it. As a matter of fact I told him my first reaction was to respectfully decline but…”

“Have you thought about it?” She asked.

“Not really,” Harry answered honestly, “What with all the funeral services and worrying about you…to be honest I've not given it a second thought.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“You're worrying about me? Why?”

Harry gave her a definitively flat look of utter annoyance.

“You're joking right?” He said with a bit of a frown.

With that they went in to visit with her damaged parents for most of the morning. Neither remembered Harry but he put on his bravest face and saw first hand what Hermione had been enduring completely alone. It was almost impossible for him to process what was happening. Her parents were like two complete strangers who were trying to process untenable information in their strange surroundings.

They often spoke as if they were in pain as they tried to recall even the most minute details of a simple memory. It was excruciating to watch and they weren't even his family.

By the time they had emerged from her parent's room to go get some lunch Harry was mentally exhausted. He felt queasy and ill at ease. His heart ached for his best friend as he watched her endure it all with a level of grace and patience he had never seen and his admiration for her increased exponentially during that visit.

As they made their way into the Visitor's Tea Room and Hospital Shop on the fifth floor they spotted Neville sitting at a table nibbling on a sandwich. Hermione glanced significantly at Harry.

He knew why Neville was there but he wasn't sure Hermione did. He recalled how Neville had asked him those years ago not to let on about his own parent's plight. He had never told anyone…not even Hermione.

Now it seemed a bit pointless to keep it all a secret but he still felt some sort of loyalty to Neville so he resigned himself to keep mum unless Neville decided to tell her himself.

When Neville spotted the two he was out of his seat in a blink looking quite surprised and pleased to see them.

“Harry…Hermione,” Neville said with a huge smile, “It's really great to see you!”

“You too, Neville,” Harry replied shaking Neville's hand.

“What are you doing here Neville?” Hermione asked a bit nervously.

Neville took a step back giving Harry a significant look.

“You never told!” Neville said with a big smile.

Hermione looked at Harry perplexed but Harry just returned Neville's smile and shrugged.

“You asked me not to Neville, remember?”

“True,” Neville said still looking shocked, “but I thought you'd tell Hermione. I figured you told her everything.”

“I usually did but well,” Harry said glancing at a still confused Hermione, “I figured if you wanted to tell the others I would leave it up to you.”

Finally Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at both boys.

“Would someone mind telling me what this is all about?”

Neville gestured to the table where he was sitting and they all settled into seats. Neville recounted what had transpired back then as close as he could remember with Harry filling in a few bits of information here and there. When he was done the look on Hermione's face was completely unreadable.

She sat silently for a moment then her face slowly crumpled and tears began to fall. She reached up to hide herself from the others.

Both Harry and Neville became alarmed. Harry reached for her and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Hermione what's wrong?” He asked deeply concerned, “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just thought…”

But what he thought upset her wasn't even close.

“It's not that Harry,” Hermione said through her bitter tears, “I've been a complete self-absorbed fool!”

That statement shocked both boys as they sat there trying to understand why she had said it. Neville produced a handkerchief form somewhere and handed it to Hermione who took it with a quavering `thank you.' She then took a deep breath and began to explain.

“Don't you see? All this time poor Neville has been dealing with much the same thing as I have but he's had to deal with that all on his own. He's asked no-one for help and has asked for no sympathy from anyone. Here I've been running about like a banshee thrashing like a haddock out of water making a complete nuisance of myself while making everyone else's life miserable! I'm such a stupid weak little girl!”

It was Neville's turn to look properly confused.

Harry took it upon himself to tell Neville as much of Hermione's parent's troubles as he could remember while Hermione continued to chastise herself silently. When Harry was finished Neville looked up at Hermione sadly.

“Hermione don't be ridiculous. You're not stupid or weak and you're certainly not a fool. I'm not going to pretend it's been easy but there came a point when I simply had to accept my fate just like everyone else. At least I can still see and talk to my parents even though they don't understand. I think about Harry who lost both his parents and I suppose I feel fortunate…in a way. My parents are still here.”

“I know it doesn't sound like much of a consolation to you right now Hermione but if what Harry said is true then you've got a chance to bring them back. Don't loose sight of that. I stay strong for my folks because if I don't then it's like admitting the Death Eaters won and I'll never let that happen. You've got to concentrate on finding the answers just as Harry said. Nothing is more important than that.”

Hearing those words come out of Neville was not only surprising to both Harry and Hermione it felt like a balm to her battered nerves and self control.

Harry looked at Neville with a surprised expression and smiled.

“Well said Neville and you're exactly right!”

Neville blushed beet red but smiled back at Harry just the same. Hermione reached across the table and took Neville's hand in hers.

“You're absolutely right Neville,” she said. Her features took on a look of determined defiance, “No more feeling sorry for myself.”

“That's the spirit,” Neville glowed, “Well I best be off. My Gran's doing a bit of shopping while I have been visiting. If I don't find her she'll be buying a bunch of her barmy old moth-eaten hats. Those bloody things scare me.”

Harry and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

After Neville departed Harry watched Hermione for a moment.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“I'm surprised at you Harry?” Hermione said rather cryptically.

“Erm…” He didn't know what to say to that.

“All this time you knew about Neville's parents and you said nothing.”

Harry didn't know if she was admonishing him for keeping a secret or if it was something else until she offered him a sad smile.

“It just proves what I've known about you all along,” she said, “that you are one of the most trusted friends a person could have.”

It was Harry's turn to blush. After they had eaten some lunch they made their way back to spend some more time with Hermione's parents. This time was a bit easier for Harry having already been exposed to the difficulties that presented themselves to Hermione.

She seemed much more like herself when it came time to leave for the day. Harry found himself thinking it was their conversation with Neville and the fact that Hermione wasn't alone in dealing with her problem that made the difference. He reminded himself to thank Neville next time he saw him.

The next several weeks were spent in and out of the various magical departments trying to find any information that would shed even a shred of light on the problem that plagued Hermione's parents with absolutely no success.

With each passing day Hermione became more desperate and dejected. She had even gone so far as to meet with a Muggle brain surgeon but even he could shed little light on a possible cause.

Harry found himself becoming vastly educated about the inner workings of the human mind and the many spells and incantations that affected it but to him it was mostly pointless. None of it helped Hermione's parents get better.

They spent as much time as they could with her folks, Harry there right beside her. Hermione's quest had unwittingly become his.

As the summer dragged on with no answers Hermione was slowly loosing hope. Harry wanted to say something to boost her spirits but had no idea what to do or say. He simply stayed by her side and did as much as he could to help.

He was afraid if they didn't find a breakthrough soon he would have to watch his best friend fall completely apart and he didn't know how he could prevent it.

They had heard absolutely nothing from Ron during that time. The torrid reports of his nocturnal behavior had all but ceased but his new book hit the stores with a vengeance.

It was the talk of the Wizard world. Many touted it as a masterpiece while some literary critics said it was the best look inside what had really happened in those final days of Voldemort's reign of terror.

For Hermione, she had neither time, patience nor the desire to read it and since Harry was by her side most every day he hadn't given it much thought.

That all changed one evening when Harry arrived at #12 to find something very strange going on at his home.

He arrived by floo into the old dungeon kitchen when he was confronted with what appeared to be articles of clothing everywhere. Kreacher was seated at the table eating a bowl of something grumbling miserably to himself.

“Kreacher,” Harry asked surprised by the mess, “What in Merlin's name?”

“Kreacher tried to keep them out Harry Potter but Kreacher was told to mind his business. They came in through the floo late last evening while Kreacher was sleeping. They made such a racket as to wake my mistress from her slumber. They taunted and laughed at my mistress. She bade them to leave but they just laughed and mocked her. Finally Kreacher was forced to draw her curtain when they went up to Master Regulus' room. They have defiled the sanctity of my former Master's room!”

Kreacher broke down in tears.

“Who Kreacher?”

The old wrinkled elf sniffed and looked at Harry miserably.

“The one you call Weasley, the blood traitor to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!”

Harry's blood froze. He couldn't understand why Ron would come here all of a sudden but he was going to get to the bottom if things very quickly.

He bound up the stairs. There seemed to be a trail of clothing all the way through the house. He followed them up the stairs to the second floor as he saw them stop at the door to Regulus' room at the end of the hall on the right just across from Sirius' old room.

As he approached he saw the door slightly ajar and he could hear soft snoring coming from the other side. At first he recoiled at the idea of peeking into the room but then realized he was being an idiot.

This is my house now! He's come in here mucking things up, terrorizing Kreacher, causing a complete ruckus without so much as a `how do you do'!

Harry's irritation spiked as he slowly pushed the door open. He saw a girl's naked bum. She had one leg thrown across Ron's. Ron was spread eagle on his back, mouth hanging slack. They both seemed to be completely passed out cold.

Harry looked down to see an empty bottle of Firewhiskey lying in the floor at the foot of the bed.

His first thought was to rouse the both of them and throw them out on the curb but he realized that would solve nothing. He would let them sleep for now but as soon as they woke up they would be out on their collective bums. He was certain of that.

As he turned to make his way back down the stairs to apologize to Kreacher he decided he might as well collect their things and set them just inside the door for when they woke up. He didn't want them traipsing about the house in their birthday suits.

Once he had reached the main hall he picked up some very skimpy black lacy knickers and was holding them up to the light examining them with a bit of curiosity when he heard the fireplace in the kitchen flare.

Hermione! Merlin's beard, why did she have to pick this very moment to show up unannounced?

He tucked the knickers into the pile of clothing in his arms and dashed to the stairs that led down into the kitchen. He met her half way across the floor.

“Hello Harry,” she started to say, “Sorry to…” She stopped, gaping at the clothing in his arms with an odd look on her face, “I'm sorry am I interrupting something?”

“Wha…no! Of course not…” But as he said it they could hear footsteps on the floor above.

Hermione just blinked and turned back toward the fireplace when Kreacher mumbled.

“The blood traitor is awake.”

“What did he say?” Hermione asked as she looked up at the ceiling.

“Hermione!” Harry warned but it was too late. She had dashed around him and made for the stairs.

Harry turned in pursuit and bounded up after her, still clutching the bundle of clothing. As he made the top of the stairs he found Hermione standing just off the stairs. As he came up behind her ready to explain they heard the door to Regulus' room open and a girl strode out turning to a door at the end of the hall that went to the loo. She was as naked as the day she was born.

Apparently she had not noticed the two of them standing in the hallway or maybe she simply didn't care. As she disappeared into the bathroom they heard Ron call from the room.

“Oy Cassie,” Ron slurred, “Where'd ja' get offth to love?”

Harry could see Hermione's whole body go rigid. He watched as her hands clenched into fists. With a quick jerk she pulled her wand and took a step toward the open door. Harry dropped the bundle of clothes and was about to reach for her when she stopped.

Her shoulders slumped and her arms dropped limply by her side. It was as if she had come to the conclusion that whatever she had planned to do simply wasn't worth the trouble.

Without a word she turned and, without looking at Harry she descended the stairs and turned down the hall back toward the kitchen.

Harry wasn't sure what he should do but he was certain he didn't want to be caught there watching the naked girl come out of the bathroom so he quickly scooped up the bundle of clothing, dashed forward and threw them into the open door then turned and fled down the stairs as quietly as he could. By the time he reached the door to the kitchen he heard the fireplace flare again. She was gone.

Harry's first though was to go after her but he was aware how angry Kreacher was at his two unwanted guests. He figured he better stay or there was no telling what Kreacher might do.

Bugger you Ronald Weasley! I should curse you myself!

Harry plopped down on the bench across from Kreacher. He looked at the tired old elf and felt terrible for what the little guy had to put up with.

“I'm sorry you had to go through this Kreacher. I didn't know Ron was capable of such ridiculous behavior. Why don't you use the spare room for now and we'll clean and scourgify everything tomorrow. You should try and get some sleep.”

Kreacher nodded. He climbed down from the bench, placed his bowl and spoon in the sink and went off to bed mumbling under his breath the whole way.

Harry didn't blame him one bit.

Harry sat at the kitchen table for a long time lost in thought. He had come to the conclusion that, where it concerned Hermione Granger, Ron Bilius Weasley had just driven the last proverbial nail in the equally proverbial coffin lid of what could have possibly been a relationship they could have shared if Ron had not, for some bizarre reason, lost his bloody mind.

But as he sat in the dwindling firelight he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad for Ron. It wasn't just because Ron had caused the demise of the possibility of a relationship with Hermione but because he, himself was beginning to develop feeling for his best and most trusted friend.

Part of him felt guilty for that. It was that part of him that made him enter the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny. It was the part of him that made him rush to the Department of Mysteries to rescue his Godfather. It was also the part of him that made him face certain death when he finally realized the truth.

The other part, the part that might have lingered even after the demise of his nemesis, was elated by this development.

As he sat there the images of the locket Horcrux swept across his memory. He remembered what they looked like as if he was standing there at that very moment. The realization that those images could in any way be prophetic at all made Harry's hair on his arms and neck stand on end.

Could that be the reason why Ron went off the deep end? Did he somehow know those visions would come to pass? Am I guilty of making them come true?

Harry suddenly felt sick. He felt dirty and evil as if he were playing right into the hands of Voldemort as if he were reaching beyond the grave to touch his life.

NO!

Harry lurched to his feet standing with his fists and his teeth clenched.

That's ridiculous! Voldemort is DEAD! He's gone! There must be another reason why Ron's done what he has. You're being stupid.

With that Harry stomped off to his own room cursing Ron's pure-blood heritage.

-->

16. 16 - Prodigal Dunderhead Returns

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Sixteen - The Prodigal Dunderhead Returns

The morning found Harry sipping a cup of fresh hot coffee at the table in the dungeon kitchen as he perused the day's copy of the Prophet.

He knew Hermione would either be at St. Mungo's with her parents or at her house and he planned to join her as soon as he was done with his breakfast.

The anger he felt for Ron the night before had changed into something more like pity for his best mate. The guilt he felt the night before dissipated with the rising of the sun because he had finally understood Ron had caused his own troubles. Voldemort had nothing to do with anything anymore. It was just an attack of a guilty conscience but the memories of the visions the locket produced lingered in the back of his mind.

All Harry knew was his feelings for Hermione were growing stronger and more real by the day and he was beginning to realize their connection might be mutual. It was all that mattered to him at present. She needed him and he would do anything to be there for her no matter what. Nothing else was more important to him at the moment.

As he scanned the headlines he saw another review of Ron's book with Rita Skeeter. He finally saw what it had been titled;

The Demise of Darkness; The Final Days of Lord Voldemort {By Rita Skeeter…as told by Ronald B. Wheezly}

It made Harry chuckle Ron wasn't even getting top billing on his own book and she had even spelled his name wrong! He could hear Hermione - “Serves the idiot right…”

Ahh…Poetic justice!

He heard someone shuffling about on the floor above him then footsteps falling on the stairs. A moment later a much hung-over Ron stumbled through the kitchen door and practically fell onto the bench on the other side of the table across from Harry. He gave the little house elf a significant glance.

“It's alright Kreacher,” Harry said glaring at Ron, “I'm quite interested in what the idiot has to say to explain himself.”

Kreacher glared at Ron as well while making a soft growling sound reluctantly sliding a cup of coffee in front of him then turned back to Harry.

“Shall I prepare more breakfast Harry Potter?”

Harry tossed another irritated glance at Ron but then sighed. As much as he didn't want to admit it at the moment Ron was still one of only two friends he had in the world he could somewhat trust these days. That thought wasn't causing any warm and fuzzy notions at present though.

“You hungry?” He asked.

“Famished,” Ron croaked.

“Yes Kreacher,” Harry looked at the elf as if trying to apologize for having to put up with the whole mess, “If you would be so kind.”

Kreacher returned a look that suggested he would rather lop off his own head and mount it on the wall next to his kin than cater to the half-drunk half-wit but bowed none the less and went about his task.

“So,” Harry said trying to break the tension, “Looks like your book is doing well. I suppose the galleons are rolling in. What will you do with all that wealth?”

The scathing sarcasm in Harry's voice was not lost on Ron's pickled brain. He shot Harry a scowl.

“It's not like I've got a vault full at Gringotts or something but it should net a tidy sum if I'm lucky.”

Ouch! - Touché! Well at least we know his wit isn't as dead as his brain!

Harry leaned forward looking pointedly across the table at Ron.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking bringing that girl here last night? Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

After he said it he realized not all Ron's senses had taken leave. His Ickle Ronnykins was apparently working just fine.

“Look,” Ron replied, “she wanted to meet you alright? I…didn't realize things would get quite so out of hand,” Ron paused and took a shuddering breath, “Sorry about that. Besides I had to break out of the Minister's mansion to see Cassie and I knew this place was still un-plottable. I'm sure mum's got the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement looking for me.”

“Great!” Harry huffed, hands smacking the table top, “So you're saying I can expect Aurors to be crashing in on the place any moment? Thanks for that. I should have tossed your arse out last night!”

“Lighten up Harry,” Ron grinned, “I don't think it's like all that. You might get a visit form Kingsley today though. We should be gone by then.”

Harry was still plenty angry but part of him, the bloke, was curious about this girl. She had quite a reputation according to the Prophet. He had never met a girl like Cassandra before. The closest he ever got to a real scarlet woman was Romilda Vane but as Ron's antics seem to complicate his life all of a sudden he just wanted to be shed of it as quickly and quietly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to see his own face and/or name in the Prophet associated with Ron's utter lack of responsibility. Things were hard enough as they were.

“Hermione was here last night,” Harry said, knowing the knowledge would cause a twinge but as he sat there looking at Ron he saw absolutely no reaction to the news at all, “She saw the girl come out of the room and go to the loo.”

Ron still didn't indicate the news bothered him in the slightest.

“The girl was starkers Ron!” Harry added.

That bit of information made Ron's eyebrows raise then a smirk crossed his puffy and chapped lips.

“That's Cassie for you,” he chuckled, “Got bullocks the size of grapefruits that one!”

Harry's irritation spiked. He couldn't help himself. Ron's cavalier attitude made his blood boil.

“You mean it doesn't bother you to know Hermione saw you in bed with her?”

Ron smacked the table top and leaned back.

“Why should it Harry?” It was Ron's turn to become irritated, “Why should she care who I'm with or what I'm doing? It's not like Hermione's all that interested in being together with me now is she? I mean really…”

“Well Ron,” Harry shot back, “It isn't like she's had much time with fetching her parent's from Australia and…”

He stopped. Harry wasn't sure it was wise to be telling Ron everything. Hermione had kept the problems with her parents a secret. He knew telling Ron was tantamount to printing it in bold script on the front page of the Prophet.

“Yah,” Ron shot back, “Well where was she the day I took my brother to St. Mungo's Harry?”

Harry tried to explain what happened when he met with McGonagall but Ron didn't seem to care.

“Look Harry. It doesn't matter,” Ron replied looking a bit sad, “Hermione made a choice based on what was best for her at the moment, yes? Why am I just supposed to accept that and then have everyone get on my case for doing what I want?”

“Maybe it's because she's not running about getting her picture in the Prophet drunk out of her mind hanging on whatever bird happens to be nearby…”

“Is that what you think I'm doing?” Ron asked, “and since when do you put any stock in the rubbish printed in the Prophet?”

Harry jumped up from the table and snatched an older copy of the Prophet from a stack near the fireplace. He crossed the room and slapped it on the table in front of Ron. It was the night he was photographed at The Dancing Leprechaun.

“Then you tell me what it is you're doing Ron,” Harry asked agitatedly, “Public relations for your new book!”

Ron wanted to try and explain what he was feeling that night. The loss and confusion of what was happening with his family but it was much too difficult and the after-effects of too much fire whiskey made it seem daunting in the extreme. He looked up into Harry's angry gaze and a thought occurred to him.

“Why is it of the three of us everyone thinks Hermione Granger always knows what's best for everyone else? Why is everyone so convinced she always has the right answers about everything?”

The question caught Harry completely off guard.

Why, indeed?

He had to think about it for a moment but it didn't take long for him to come to the obvious conclusion.

It was simply that Hermione was right. She was much better at life than both of them combined. It wasn't a mystery she had been the glue that held them together through the years. They'd probably both be dead if it weren't for her and it shocked Harry slightly to think she still cared for Ron even after all the things he had done to try and ruin even a friendly relationship with her.

Hermione's right! You are thick as mud!

“You know as well as I do we could not have accomplished what we did without her. We'd all be dead and Voldemort would still be alive! That has to count for something yes?”

“No argument there Harry,” Ron admitted, “and the next time I run into an evil dark wizard bent on enslaving the world I'll know who to turn to for help but as far as why she and I aren't together,” he paused to sigh, “That wasn't my call mate.”

Harry still thought Ron could have been a bit more understanding about the whole thing but he didn't really care any longer. He looked at Ron as Kreacher slid plates full of piping hot breakfast under their noses.

“Bless you Kreacher,” Ron muttered as he dug in.

“What about the girl?” Harry asked.

“I suspect she'll be down shortly,” Ron said right before he crammed a fork full of eggs in his mouth, “she's all agog about meeting the Golden Boy!”

“Please don't call me that!” Harry grimaced.

“Not me, mate,” Ron picked up the Prophet and threw it at Harry.

He realized instantly the message being sent by that gesture.

“Alright,” Harry conceded, “Point taken.”

“Glad we can at least agree on something,” Ron grinned.

Ron looked at Harry for a moment reluctant to ask the next question but curious all the same.

“So what's with you and Ginny?”

Harry sighed and looked at his hands.

“Apparently,” Harry said sadly, “there is no me and Ginny. Seems she's gotten back with Dean Thomas. Said she was angry I didn't let her fight with me during the war and what made it worse was I let Hermione…or something like that.”

Ron smirked.

“Well I would like to sit here and be all shocked and surprised and everything but the truth is I suspected something was happening. I saw them together at St. Mungo's and got in Ginny's face about it. She just told me to mind my business. You know how she gets when I start meddling?”

Harry nodded glumly.

“Hey,” Ron asked, “You want me to rough Dean up a bit for you. Maybe I can make him disappear for a while, you know like the bloke who got lost in the vanishing cabinet?”

Harry gave him a dour look. Ron shrugged.

“Just a thought!”

As he sat there he suddenly wanted to tell Ron about his feelings for Hermione. He wasn't sure why because he knew it would probably cause another row but the way Ron had acted about the news Hermione had seen Cassandra last night made him think Ron had gotten past his feelings for her. He wasn't sure how he would react to the knowledge he and Hermione were beginning to feel things for one-another. He thought it was better than keeping it all a secret because he was getting tired of that.

“Listen Ron,” Harry said shifting nervously in his seat. Above them he could hear footsteps. He knew the girl was stirring. He heard the bathroom door close and glancing at Ron decided to just be out with it, “I think things are changing between me and Hermione. I'm not exactly sure what that means at this point so don't ask. The only reason I'm telling you this is because I don't want there to be any secrets between us. She says she needs me and to be honest I don't mind being there for her. I feel it's the least I can do after everything she's done for me over the years.”

Ron stared at Harry for a moment, his face unreadable. Harry braced himself for the worst but then another smirk crossed his lips as he leaned forward on his elbows.

“I'm really not all that surprised Harry.”

“Well that makes one of us,” Harry said a bit glumly but inwardly a bit shocked at Ron's response.

“You know,” Ron went on, “it's stupid but I think one of the reasons I wanted to get Hermione was because you and her are so close.”

That statement was like a cold slap in the face to Harry. He sat bolt upright and was about to go off but Ron continued.

“I mean after all here you were, the bloody Boy Who Lived. Everyone knew who you were. You were famous before you were old enough to even realize you were a wizard and if that wasn't enough you turned out to be tops at flying and one of the best Seekers ever. A bit of a tough act to follow, I'd say. Even Dumbledore seemed to hold you in higher regard than any other student…”

Harry leaned forward to say something but Ron put up a hand to stop him.

“…And yes Harry we know why now. It was because of the barmy Prophecy. It's just to a twelve year old pure-blood wizard who has lived all his life in this world it just seemed a bit unusual and hard to swallow that's all. Call me a shallow prat if you like but it doesn't change the past now does it?”

“When you got picked for the Tri-Wizard Tournament it was like…I couldn't believe it. Even Fred and George couldn't get in. The outcome not withstanding I'm not going to pretend I wasn't just a bit jealous.”

“A bit?” Harry smirked sarcastically.

“Ok…ok,” Ron muttered, “Maybe a lot but still, here I was trying to figure out if there was anything I could do you couldn't.”

“After the Quidditch match when Lavender threw herself at me I thought maybe I had found something I was a bit better at then you were.”

When Ron paused for a moment to shove two pieces of bacon in his mouth Harry asked the obvious question.

“And that was?”

“Birds!” Ron replied, “I was going to be much better at getting girls than you so I think that's why I wanted Hermione so badly…well…that and to keep here away from Viktor Krum.” Ron scowled when he said that name.

Harry's mouth fell open in disbelief. He couldn't believe how shallow his best friend was.

“Oh don't look at me like that Harry,” Ron growled, “It's what happens when you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon! I had to rely on other subtle qualities like deception and under-handed sneakiness. Don't even pretend you didn't suspect.”

“I figured if I started snogging Lavender in front of Hermione it would make her realize what she was loosing and she would…you know, fight for me or…something.”

Harry was stunned but couldn't help but dig at Ron's pathetic logic.

“And how well did that work out for you?” He asked chuckling.

Ron's eyes narrowed.

“You know exactly how it turned out. I still have the scars from those bloody canaries to prove it. Ok…so my idea of using reverse psychology backfired horribly.”

“No Ron,” Harry quipped, “It completely blew up in your face! Did you really think you could manipulate someone as clever as Hermione? I can't believe you would even try something so foolish.”

“Yes…well,” Ron muttered, “I didn't realize you have to be at least as clever as the one you're trying to let on. What do you expect Harry I was 15. I didn't say it was good plan. It was all I could think of. The worst of it was I wasn't smart enough to realize she already fancied me but of course she didn't make it easy for a bloke to know that, all the thrashing about simply pushed us farther away from one-another!”

Ron looked at Harry soberly for a moment.

“Did you know Hermione shagged Viktor Krum?”

His declaration made Harry feel like he had suddenly been stepped on by Grawp. That had to be stupid empty gossip. His temper flared hot.

“I don't believe it for one…” Harry growled but before he could finish his admonition Ron cut across him.

“Padma told me,” Ron said, “She was making her way to the Owlry to send a post when she passed the Charms classroom that night after the Yule Ball. She said she heard moaning and groaning coming from inside. Apparently in their haste they forgot to latch the classroom door. Padma said she thought it might have been someone hurt what with all the strange things happening around Hogwarts so she peaked inside.”

“She said she saw Hermione starkers from the knickers up sitting on top of Viktor who was almost completely naked. Shocked her so much she had to look twice to make sure it was really Hermione.”

“I don't believe a word of it Ron!” Harry said angrily.

“Calm down Harry,” Ron raised his hands to try and settle Harry down, “I wasn't sure I did either but the next morning Ginny asked me if we had gone down to Hagrid's or something. I asked her why and she said she was just wondering because Hermione didn't come back to the girl's dorm until very late.”

“I went back to Padma and made her swear what she told me was the truth. I also told her if she breathed a word of it to anyone else I'd hex her into oblivion for it. I don't think she ever told anyone else about it and I'm almost certain she really didn't like me very much after that. Of course, I don't think she thought much of either one of us after that ridiculous dance. What a nightmare!”

“But think about it mate,” Ron added, “It would explain the whole Second Task thing wouldn't it? I mean…why would a famous and internationally known Quidditch star who could probably have any bird he wanted tell the Officials Hermione was the dearest and most important thing in his life? Doesn't make sense, that. They had known one-another for what…less than a bleeding month!”

As uncomfortable as it made Harry to think it he had to admit what Ron was telling him started making sense. He remembered how Viktor had looked at Hermione at the Lupin/Tonks funeral service, like he was undressing her with his eyes. The thought of it made Harry's anger flare again.

“I still find it hard to believe,” Harry said, “It just doesn't square with the Hermione we know. She's just not that kind of girl…”

But the truth was Harry wasn't really sure any longer. They sat in silence for a moment while Harry's mind tried to absorb the possibility that Hermione Granger could be an experienced woman.

“So why tell me this now,” Harry asked, “and if you knew why didn't you tell me back then?”

Ron looked pointedly at Harry for a moment.

“Like I said Harry, I wasn't sure I believed it either and I certainly wasn't going to spread something like that around. It could have ruined Hermione's reputation…not that any of us were all that popular to begin with but still…that's not the kind of thing you go tossing about in general conversation now is it?”

“Besides,” Ron added, “I wasn't about to give that Bulgarian bastard the satisfaction of letting on I suspected and the reason I'm telling you all this now is just as you said…no secrets. If you're starting to fancy Hermione then you need to know the whole truth.”

Harry got up from the table, his breakfast only half eaten and began to pace the floor in front of the fireplace. He tried to figure out why he hadn't known or why he hadn't suspected. He glanced at Ron.

“Why would she do something like that and why didn't I realize?” He asked.

“Harry?” Ron leaned back and folded his arms, “Don't be daft mate. I mean think about it. You were gone on Cho Chang and being chased around by Death Eaters and such. Me,” Ron gestured to himself with a hand, “I was so thick I didn't realize what was going on at the time so I completely looked right past her like she wasn't even there. I was completely self-absorbed in my own stupid endeavors to top the great Harry Potter. It's no wonder she fell for the bloke.”

Ron looked down at his plate, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“Viktor was the first one to see what we should have seen all along and he gave her something we didn't…attention…I mean real attention because she was a lovely girl…not just our resident know-it-all…get what I'm saying Harry?”

“Well it doesn't matter any more,” Harry spit, “We saw Viktor at Dora and Remus' service. He's getting married to some snobbish prig he was with that afternoon. She made certain everyone knew it the way she was acting. Knowing what I know now I can't imagine how it must have made Hermione feel…”

“You think she still has feelings for him?” Ron asked.

“I don't…” Harry wanted to say she didn't but in light of what he had just been told he wasn't sure of anything, “…think so but who's to say Ron. I'm slowly finding out nothing has turned out the way I thought it would and nothing seems to make any sense.”

“I'm not so sure about that Harry.” Ron said, “You ending up with Hermione makes a hell of a lot more sense then she and I, yah? I'm just sorry things didn't turn out for you and Ginny. I know you really cared for her.”

“Yes…well,” Harry sighed, “at least she had the courage to face me and tell me the truth. It says a lot about your sister.”

“Yah,” Ron chuckled, “The girl's got stones and I'd rather kiss a blast-ended skrewt then cross her.”

Harry smirked at the comment as he sunk limply back onto the bench across from Ron still shoveling food into his mouth as if it were his last meal.

“So tell me Ron,” Harry asked sternly, “What about this book you've written with that troll Rita Skeeter? I'm telling you right now…if you've spilled your guts to the woman then you're a nutter…”

“It isn't like that Harry,” Ron replied looking seriously at Harry, “I swear it. I made her put a clause in the contract to force her to write exactly what I told her…”

“And that's supposed to make me feel better about it?” Harry quipped.

“Look mate,” Ron held up his hands, “I'm telling you it's nothing but what happened during the hunt for the Horcruxes and up until old Voldy stopped breathing. Honestly. Read it! You'll see for yourself.”

Harry was still skeptical. He crossed his arms offering Ron another glare.

“Harry,” Ron added, “I promise I didn't tell her anything she didn't need to know. The whole thing is protected by a Fidelius charm. I'll admit there are probably a few facts missing, like the time I wasn't with you two when we were camping out all over the place but the rest is on the up and up. Just the events as they happened.”

“Well,” Harry sighed in resignation, “You really didn't miss much only that Hermione seemed completely out of sorts because you left.”

Ron grimaced.

“I figured as much,” he said, “I mean, none of that kind of thing is in the book, mind you. It's just I wonder if my leaving had more of an effect on her than I thought. Do you think it did Harry?”

“Honestly,” Harry shrugged, “I don't know Ron. I will tell you I had never seen her so sad. It was like she was heart broken.”

Harry realized they had never talked about it before. He wondered if telling Ron this was going a bit too far. There was nothing to be gained from opening those old wounds but as he sat there he realized Ron's actions and attitudes told him he no longer seemed to care for Hermione in that way but he also knew how inconsistent and confusing Ron could be when it came to Hermione. One almost needed a score card to keep track of their tempestuous relationship.

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I deserve that.”

“Look,” Harry added, “I didn't tell you that to try and hurt you. It was just an observation of the situation Ron. It doesn't mean anything.”

“Yes, Harry,” Ron replied matter-of-factly, “It means everything you dolt. The truth is…you've been there for her…all along. It's not just for leaving you two in the Forrest of Dean. It's for all the years we bickered and argued and were constantly at odds with one-another over some of the most ridiculous things. It was mostly my shallow stupidity that caused it. I'm just amazed she felt anything for me at all but loathing.”

For the first time since he had known his two best friends he had to admit what Ron was saying had some merit. Ron had done and said some pretty stupid and hurtful things to Hermione over the years and now as he looked at it from Ron's perspective he too wondered why Hermione continued to have feelings for him. He was simply glad she did. If she hadn't he didn't want to think what his life would have been like without both of them. Without Hermione they would have had no chance of succeeding against all the Dark Magic surrounding them and without Ron his life would have been completely devoid of any solid, trustworthy companionship. What Harry had realized from the start was Hermione's value as a friend and companion…Ron didn't and never could get past seeing her as just another “bird.”

He couldn't help but wonder how it would affect his two best friends as they moved toward an uncertain future. He worried if Ron and Hermione could find some kind of common ground? He didn't want to be between them if they remained at odds with one-another. He didn't know how he would be able to manage it. It was just one more question he had no answer to at present and it left him feeling a trifle empty.

They both looked up as Cassandra swept into the kitchen like she owned #12. She was wearing a bright red half-tee shirt and very tight jeans. It was obvious to both boys at once she considered underwear optional. Her large breasts strained the thin material of the shirt so they stood out as if she were not wearing a shirt at all.

Harry tried his best to divert his gaze but Ron wasn't nearly so subtle. He turned on his seat, gathered the girl in his arms and proceeded to burry his face between her ample mounds making strange growling noises.

It was most embarrassing. Harry stifled a roll of his eyes.

After extricating his face from Cassandra's cleavage, he turned to Harry.

“Cassandra,” he said grinning stupidly as if he was suddenly confunded, “This is the famous Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding world, one of the Golden Trio, etcetera…etcetera.”

Cassandra's smile seemed to broaden so much Harry thought he could see all her teeth. There was something in her eyes that unsettled Harry quite a bit. He wasn't sure what it was but it was as if to her, he suddenly took on the appearance of something very tasty. It didn't seem to bother Ron in the slightest.

He had to admit the girl was gorgeous. He thought she could even give Fleur a run for her money in the looks department and that was saying something.

She held out her hand and Harry politely took it in his.

“Oh, it's such an honor to meet you Harry,” Cassandra gushed, “Ronny's told me so much about you.”

Before Harry knew it she had plopped on the bench sitting so close to him all he had to do was look down to get an up close and personal view of two of the most incredible female breasts he had ever seen. He forced himself to keep his eyes locked on hers.

“I suppose we all owe you a debt of gratitude for what you and Ronny did for all of us,” she continued, “it was so awfully wonderful of you.”

“Erm…thanks,” Harry stammered. He could feel the heat rising out of the collar of his shirt. If he sat there much longer his glasses were going to fog up. As gently as he could he extracted himself from her close proximity and acted like he was helping Kreacher in the kitchen, “Would you like some coffee, maybe some breakfast? Kreacher can fix whatever you like.”

“Oh yes, please,” Cassandra gushed again, “That's ever so kind of you, as long as it's no trouble.”

“No trouble,” Harry smiled. At least the girl was polite.

Moments later she sat devouring her breakfast with the same wild abandon as Ron. Harry thought they were more alike than different in the way they acted but he still couldn't quite figure out why this exceptionally beautiful woman was with a dunderhead like Ronald Weasley?

I guess the bloke's got something she wants.

“So what are you up to today Harry?” Ron asked as he swallowed another mouthful of eggs and kippers.

“I don't know,” Harry replied shrugging while he absent-mindedly washed the dishes in the sink. He had no idea why he was doing it. Kreacher usually waited till he had all the dirty dishes then, with a snap of his fingers the dishes washed, dried then put themselves away, “I thought I might go visit little Teddy this morning. I haven't seen him since he was born for Marlin's sake. Some Godfather I'm turning out to be.” He lied. He did indeed need to go see the little tyke but it would have to wait until things with Hermione settled down a bit.

“Well it isn't like you've had loads of free time now is it?” Ron replied as he got up from the table, “Hermione going with you?”

Harry turned to look at Ron.

“I don't know what Hermione's doing just now. I think she went back home last night as far as I know. She wasn't exactly very chatty when she left.”

Harry's scathing comment wasn't lost on Ron who simply frowned.

“Hermione?” Cassandra asked, “You mean Hermione Granger, the third member of the Golden Trio? Oh do you think I could meet her too? Then I could say I've met all three of you?”

Cassandra said it with so much enthusiasm it almost made Harry burst out laughing. He could just imagine that meeting in his mind. The fall out and destruction would be devastating. It would make Voldemort's evil look like a Muggle child with a toy wand.

Ron's face blanched white instantly.

“Err…Cassandra,” Ron stammered, “I'm not sure that's the best idea, besides I need to get to Diagon Alley to get my books and things.”

That statement caught Harry by surprise.

“Books?” he asked.

“Yah,” Ron replied with a dour look, “Seems I'm being required to finish my last term at Hogwarts. Mum and dad said I had to go. Not so bad, really. At first he was thinking of putting me in the Muggle military! I swear, they've both gone barking mad!”

“Well can you blame them Ron!” Harry blurted out before he thought better of it. “I mean your father is now Minister for Magic!” He tired to back-peddle a bit. “I mean, it's not such a good idea getting your picture in the Prophet totally knackered now is it?”

The look on Ron's face could only be described as mutinous.

“Gods,” he growled, “They've gotten to you too haven't they?”

“What? What are you…”, Harry stammered.

“My mum,” Ron blurted out, “She's been telling everyone `That Ronald's going to be the death of us all. Try and talk some sense into him if you please!' His attempt at sounding like his mother made him sound more like his impression of the old hag in the Black family portrait just up the stairs. “What? Did she come here and lecture you too?”

“No Ron,” Harry said shocked, “I haven't seen your mum since Dora and Remus' funeral. She didn't say anything about you at all! She did thank me for offering to let the lot of you stay though.”

Ron seemed to deflate and the horrid red glow of his head dissipated abruptly.

“Oh…well…sorry,” Ron said as he got up from the table. Having finished their breakfasts he and Cassandra decided they best clear out before his parents figured out where he was.

“So what about you Harry?” Ron asked as he turned to go back up stares to clean up, “You going back to Hogwarts as well?”

Harry briefly told him the offer Kingsley Shacklebolt had made him. Ron just gave Harry a significant look.

“So you're going to be an Auror?” Ron chuckled, “Guess I shouldn't be surprised by that either. I just figured you were over all that chasing down dark wizards shite. You know,” Ron said putting a hand on his pointed chin, “I'll be willing to bet you could get on just about any Quidditch team you wanted to if you had a mind to go professional. What with you being famous and all I'd bet they'd snatch you up in a second!”

Harry thought about what Ron said for about three seconds and came to a decisive conclusion about that idea.

“Maybe you're right Ron but I really have no desire to play professional Quidditch. It was fun in Hogwarts and I do love flying but really,” Harry smirked, “I've had enough concussions and bludger pulverized bones to last me a lifetime and I think going back to Hogwarts at this point would be a bad mistake. I think it would cause the school more trouble than it's worth. Besides,” Harry's look went serious, “I've had just enough of being treated like an oddity and gawked at like a transfiguration experiment gone horribly wrong all the time. I think it would be much worse now.”

“Hmm,” Ron grunted contemplatively, “Maybe you're right Harry, maybe the Auror's Department in the best place for you. All those budding Dark Wizards out there would think twice about trying to rise to power with you on the job.” The look on Ron's face was one of scathing cynicism.

“Right,” Harry replied darkly as he himself got up and decided to make ready to leave. He stopped suddenly and turned on Ron as he watched Cassandra disappear up the stairs, “By the way, I think you owe Kreacher an apology for last night and we would very much appreciate it if you would clean up Regulus' room and put it back the way it was before you leave. That's Kreacher's room now, just so you know.”

Ron looked properly chastised. He moved over to where Kreacher was gathering dishes and bent down to the little house elf's level.

“I am truly sorry for last night Kreacher,” Ron declared honestly, “I was a bloody ingrate and a twice-bloody fool. I hope you'll forgive us. We were fairly trashed last night. We'll put your room back just as it was and I promise the next time we visit we'll be much better behaved. Thanks for the nosh all the same.”

Kreacher bowed slightly but still looked as if Ron smelled like spoiled stink sap.

Within a half hour Ron and Cassandra snuck out the front door using a Disillusionment Charm and Harry apparated to the Granger house. He was not looking forward to what he might find when he got there, if he would find Hermione there at all. He knew where she would be if she wasn't.

A/N; I realize the story is moving kind of slow but as I've said before…it does get better and more exciting - I promise. (And you all thought Voldemort was gone for good! Ha Ha…That's what you think!!!)

I thought it necessary to try and develop the transition from Ron/Hermione into Harry/Hermione in a realistic and believable way. Even though this is obviously not canon it has always been my opinion Harry and Hermione were much more suited to one-another than Ron and Hermione just from a personality stand point.

In canon, Harry would never throw himself in front of Ron to get to Hermione or even Ginny for that matter. It wasn't in his nature and he lacked the experience to pull it off. He would, however, want to protect her even from his best friend if it meant keeping Hermione from getting hurt…yes? Think about it…

I simply loath stories that gloss over or ignore all together the events as they occurred in the books. Throwing Harry and Hermione together without creating some form of transition is annoying and a complete disservice to J.K.R's creation…even though we take liberties with it.

As always…thanks for reading and putting up with all this. Please let me know what you think!

DWK…

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17. 17 - Making Plans

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Seventeen - Making Plans

Later that day Harry returned to Grimmuald Place quite depressed. He had gone to the Granger's as planned and not finding Hermione there he went on to St. Mungo's.

The Healer on duty said he had seen her but she had left an hour before. He also told Harry she looked rather out-of-sorts. For someone who didn't know her to say that wasn't good.

As he sat on the bench outside her parent's room he tried to figure out where she might have gone. If she had gone to one of the places to do some additional research he could spend hours trying to find her and reasoned she might not want to be found so he decided to head back to #12.

Later that morning as he sat in his chair in the sitting room drinking an ice cold pumpkin juice he heard the familiar sound of the fireplace flare in the kitchen. Part of him was relieved and the other part apprehensive. He knew her mood would be dark and ill. He hoped she wouldn't take it out on him.

As he heard her footsteps getting closer she stopped for some reason. Harry waited but still she did not come into the room.

Harry was just about to get up when her head appeared around the doorway.

“I'm not interrupting anything am I? I'm sorry, I suppose I should announce the fact I'm coming over instead of barging in like this.”

“Don't be daft Hermione!” Harry chuckled, “You're welcome here any time. You don't have to announce yourself! You might catch me in the loo from time to time but other than that…” Harry raised his arms, “Just me and Kreacher here.”

He wasn't sure if he should mention Ron yet or not so he decided to keep mum about that until she brought up the subject.

The rest of Hermione appeared in the doorway. She looked coy and a bit apprehensive. It was quite unusual for her. She was usually filled with self-righteous indignation and nervous energy most of the time these days.

Harry also noticed she still looked thin and drawn, like she had not slept at all. His heart pinched at the thought of what she had to endure over the past weeks. It was easy to feel for her because he had been on the emotional roller coaster with her for some of it.

Hermione looked into Harry's eyes only briefly as he approached. She couldn't seem to hold his gaze.

That's very much unlike the Hermione I know!

Harry knew something was wrong at once. Hermione looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting nervously.

“I just wanted to come by and…and say goodbye Harry.”

Harry froze.

“What do you mean goodbye?”

His brain seemed to jamb for a moment as his eyes searched hers for some kind of unspoken clue as to what she was really trying to tell him.

Hermione's whole demeanor changed then. She no longer looked timid. She stood straight and squared her shoulders as if preparing to argue her case if it came to that. A serious look settled in her eyes.

It was only because he had known this girl for years he was able to understand her often rapid mood changes. It was also the fact he and Hermione had developed what could only be described as the uncanny ability to often communicate with one-another without the need for words.

He had never pretended to understand it nor took the time to analyze it either. It never manifested itself with anyone else so he wasn't sure it was even something tangible. It had been very useful during some of the most harrowing times for both of them but at the moment it didn't seem to be working.

“I've decided to go away Harry and I wanted to tell you face to face,” Hermione replied, “You're the only one I am telling besides McGonagall. I feel the need to separate myself from the wizard world for a while.”

She walked past him into the sitting room while she was talking, casting Harry a furtive glance over her shoulder as she passed.

He watched her for a moment, turning so he could keep his eyes on her. She sat down stiffly on the edge of the over-stuffed ottoman in front of Harry's favorite chair. Her eyes seemed distant and unfocused.

“There seems to be nothing anyone can do for my parents for now and it seems horribly obvious the longer they remain in this condition the less likely we are to find a solution. One only has to look at Neville's parents to see that.”

A look of raw anguish washed over her features for a brief moment before the empty, blank look that had been her mask for the past weeks returned. It was her attempt to keep all her pain inside that stirred Harry into motion. He moved to the chair behind the ottoman and sat leaning toward his best friend.

Harry reached out and without realizing, gently forced Hermione to turn around on the ottoman and face him. He took both her hands gently in his and peered into her eyes. He expected to see them glistening with tears but he was not at all prepared to see a look of utter despair and resignation hidden beneath her stoic countenance.

“The situation with Neville's parents is completely different. They were tortured into madness by evil. You know that. Hermione I know there is a way to help your parents and I know you'll be the one to find it. I've never known anyone in my life as clever, resourceful and determined as you. I would not be here right now if it weren't for your ability to reason things out. You just need time.”

Harry dropped his gaze to their hands. Hermione had entwined her fingers with his and she held onto him tightly. He continued.

“Maybe getting away from everything is just what you need. You know, help clear your head and all. Can I ask where you're going or is that a secret protected with one of Hermione's cleverest hexes?”

He glanced back into her eyes and realized to his relief her usual `what-an-idiot' smirk played across her lips for a moment. He was relieved to discover she was not too far gone into the depths of despair.

“No Harry,” she said softly, “That's one of the reasons I came here before I left you dolt.”

“Oh?” Harry's eyebrows shot up, “And what's the other reason?”

Hermione glanced up into his eyes with another serious look.

“I want you to go with me Harry.” She replied in an almost breathless whisper.

Harry was stunned for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say. Hermione began speaking rapidly like she did when she was very nervous.

“I mean really Harry. Think about it for a moment. You can't leave this place without getting mobbed by every Tom, Dick and Sally wanting a piece of the…bloody Savior of the Wizarding World and the Prophet haunts your every step. I mean, you've got blokes bouncing off #12 on a daily basis for Merlin's sake.”

He knew she was referring to the two wizard reporters who tried to break the wards to #12 and got thrown all the way to the Scottish Highlands by the rebounding charm Kinsley installed as a joke. It had happened while they were at Hogwarts doing research. An alarm spell had been tripped when it happened and Aurors were dispatched instantly. Kingsley had sent them his patronus to let him know.

Hermione released her grip on Harry and stood up. She began pacing the room, her hands animated as she made her case.

“Ginny in her infinite stupidity tossed over the most powerful Wizard in the world for her old boy toy. Not to mention your best friend has written a ridiculous tell-all book with one of the wizard world's biggest gossips and there's no telling what kind of rubbish that work of fiction contains…”

Harry watched her with amusement. He had already made up his mind but she was on a roll and he liked seeing her like this much better than being lost inside her own head.

Hermione stopped pacing and looked back at him expectantly.

Harry sat back in the chair as if in contemplation. He looked up at her with a smirk.

“Well when you put it that way it sounds like I need a vacation worse than you do.”

Hermione crossed her arms and stared at him, her eyes had gone to thin slits.

“You do!” She answered.

“Alright, you've convinced me,” Harry said matter-of-factly as he stood up, “When do we leave?”

Hermione seemed to morph like the sun had suddenly come out from behind heavy dark clouds. She was beaming as she threw herself into Harry's arms with a squeal of delight.

“Do you mean it Harry?” Her face was covered in a huge toothy smile. It had been a long time since he had seen it and it was like one of Madam Pomfrey's healing potions to an open wound.

Harry seemed to think she was a bit more excited about this than he thought was appropriate but as he stood there in the sitting room of his home holding his best friend in his arms wrapping him in a bone crushing hug new and very un-platonic thoughts swirled in his brain.

Harry couldn't help recall, once again, the night she had kissed him at her parent's house. She seemed to press her body into his molding herself to him as though she couldn't get close enough. She laid her head against his shoulder for a moment holding him in a death grip.

Her body felt almost frail in his arms. The past few months had taken a physical toll on her. He knew she had not been eating or sleeping well. If going away with her could alleviate some of her anxiety then it would be worth it. He would do it for her.

Before he could react Hermione leaned her head back just enough to look up into his face with a very Ginny-like blazing look. The smell of her lavender scented skin and the softness of her hair assaulted his senses like nothing before.

Harry suddenly felt her lips, soft and warm on his again. The contact, while anticipated this time still sent a wonderfully exciting tingling sensation right up the middle of his back. His hands seemed to grip her tighter all on their own.

What started out as nothing more than a friendly peck seemed to change into a sudden desperate need even stronger then the last time.

Hermione felt a rush of heat that started somewhere near her navel and coursed over her body flaring past her cheeks to scorch her ears.

Suddenly their mouths crushed together. She wanted to taste him. It was is if she couldn't breath unless she did. It was a curious and frightening feeling. Hermione's lips parted and her tongue touched Harry's. It was as if a bolt of lightning blasted through her. She suddenly realized she wanted more.

For the second time in her life the thrill of physical desire coursed through her body. The first time had been with Victor Krum. The passion and desire he had felt for her had been thrilling and dangerous. She had given in only out of the sheer longing to be needed and wanted by…someone.

Victor had made it easy. He hadn't cared if she lacked grace or the skills of her seemingly well experienced dorm mates. What began as an awkward attempt at self-discovery and an attempt to strike back at Ron for being such an insensitive idiot ended in a blazing inferno of physical passion and mutual need but Victor had become nothing more than a vehicle to assuage her curiosity. It had been intense.

She had felt guilty for weeks after her brief affair with the Bulgarian Quidditch star but he had taught her things she wanted to know.

The fact she had, for quite a while, remained in contact with Victor through their on-going correspondence was what she considered her penance for using him. Victor never saw it that way. He had been so caring and understanding. His gentleness was a stark contrast to the person he showed the world.

She knew at once she didn't love Viktor. It was one of the things that made it so horrifying to think of after it was over. He, however, had been completely smitten with her. She had to tell him it wasn't intended as a start to a long-term romance. He would be leaving soon. The words Scarlet Woman echoed in her head for a long time after. She thought maybe Rita's article in the Prophet wasn't so wrong after all.

But even with all the knowledge and experience she had gained from Victor it had not prepared her for the things she was now feeling in the arms of the boy she suddenly realized she had been in love with all her young life.

The certainly of it filled her conscious mind as she stood there probing the depths of him with her tongue. His taste, his warmth, the strength of his body pressed firmly against hers. It was enough to burn her to ashes right there in the middle of the sitting room.

After months of debilitating sadness and grief the damn that seemed to be holding back all her emotions burst wide open and emptied into the depths of Harry's physical presence in her life. She finally understood he was now and had been for most of her life as a Muggle-born witch the only one she had ever turned to who truly understood her to the depths no-one else possibly could. Not even her mother and father.

Hermione clung to him as if Harry was a life preserver being tossed about in an endless stormy sea.

For Harry, Hermione's desperation became clear very quickly. He kept himself anchored to the reality he was snogging most intensely with his best and most trusted friend. For reasons he could not fathom at the moment something inside told him she needed this. Hermione needed him in a way, here to for, he had never considered possible or practical.

But there he was, locked in a passionate and intensely heated physical encounter with the most amazing girl he has ever known. The feel of her soft lips and swirling tongue on his wiped every other conscious thought from his slowly over-heating brain.

It was impossible for the rest of his body not to react to Hermione's raw need. He wanted to be embarrassed but just couldn't seem to manage it. Hermione slid a hand to the back of his neck keeping his mouth pressed firmly against hers and grinding her hips against his in response to his growing excitement.

If he was to be honest, he had never had this kind of reaction with Ginny. He never felt like this when he had kissed Cho Chang for the very first time. It was so much more intense. It was so much more…real.

Is this what true love feels like?

The thought slammed into Harry's mind as he stood there enjoying the sensations Hermione was making him feel but he also knew if he didn't stop soon it would be very easy for him to loose control of himself. With Hermione in the state of mind she had been in for the past months, common sense told him she was vulnerable and weak. That thought was enough to gently put a bit of space between them.

With great reluctance Hermione's lips left his and she leaned back looking up into his bewildered face.

“Wow,” was all Harry could mutter.

The heat that flashed through him during the kiss diminished only slightly as he saw the look in Hermione's eyes. He wasn't sure he recognized it. He recalled seeing a similar look on the face of one Romilda Vane a few years before. He was just as clueless then. He thought it best to steer them into safer waters.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to stay within the safety of Harry's arms. For the first time since they left Hogwarts after Dumbledore's funeral she felt at ease as if nothing bad could touch her there within his embrace. Her tired mind felt calm and she could feel his strength and resolve flow into her. The kiss had caused her own body to react in ways it had never done before. Not even during the throws of passion with Victor. This was different…it was much deeper.

“So where are we going anyway?” Harry asked in a rather breathless voice.

Hermione smiled.

Always the gentleman this one…even when I'm not sure I want him to be…

Hermione took his hand and pulled him toward the hallway.

“Come on,” she said with a big grin as she tugged on his arm, “I'll show you.”

Harry allowed her to tow him up the stairs and into the small Black library on the second floor. She stopped in front of an old, faded antique globe of the world set in a shadowy corner of the room. Harry could scarcely remember the globe even being there.

Hermione spun the dusty orb slowly letting her fingers glide softly over the embossed surface until it came to a stop with her fingers resting over the island of Australia.

Harry's heart pinched again but to his surprise Hermione was smiling. She pointed to a collection of what appeared to be tiny brown dots in the middle of an almost endless expanse of blue. She turned and looked at Harry's surprised face.

“These are the Islands of what is called French Polynesia in the Tuamotu Archipelago. See the largest island here?”

She pointed to a brown dot that was only slightly larger than the rest.

“That's the island of Tahiti…”

“Tahiti,” Harry repeated as if he was trying the word on for size.

“Yes,” Hermione continued. Her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she smiled sadly at him, “My parents took me there when I was 8. I couldn't help but fall in love with the place. It's so warm and peaceful.”

A distant look passed across her face for a moment but then she smiled again looking into Harry's eyes.

“I know you'll fall in love with it too Harry.”

“It's so far away from everything isn't' it?” He asked. “Are there…”

Before he could ask the question Hermione seemed to already know the answer. The wordless communication ability seemed to be back.

“No Harry,” she said as she stepped back from the globe, “there are no wizards or witches there at all, at least none who live there that I know of.”

Harry nodded.

“How will we get there? Are we going to apparate?”

Hermione didn't look at him.

“No Harry,” she said as her eyes scanned the globe again, “It's much too great a distance to apparate. I think I just need a break from magic for a while as well. Can you understand that? You being half Muggle should understand what I'm saying, yes?”

That statement caught Harry completely by surprise. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. It was like hearing the Muggle Prime Minister saying he was tired of politics or Victor Krum was through with Quidditch but as he stood there absorbing her words the rationality of what she had said sank in.

Over the past several years Hermione had become so engrained in the world of magic she had all but lost touch with a wholly separate world she had been a part of half her life. Even if she felt she never truly fit in she had a life there. She had a childhood and memories and wonderful times with her parents.

Harry could scarcely relate. His life as a Muggle had been filled with abuse, emptiness and loneliness. None of which he understood or realized until he found out he belonged to a completely different world himself. For him it was an escape, a way to break free of a life filled with hate and the lack of self-identity.

He never before thought about what it must have been like for Hermione to learn she was completely different from those around her. It must have been the same for his mother Lilly as well. To find out you don't even fit in with your own family must have been devastating for them.

For Hermione, she had taken hold of the Wizard World with an iron grip of her tiny fist. She had proved to everyone Hermione Granger would take a back seat to no one when it came to magic. Her skills and abilities rivaled those twice her age and her intelligence was incomprehensible to any but the most experienced of their kind.

But for the first time since she had burst into their compartment that fateful day on the Hogwarts Express Harry wasn't seeing `The Bossy little Nightmare.' He was seeing a young woman who had been through much pain and sorrow. He wasn't seeing the determination and strength that had kept them alive the past five years, he was seeing a girl who needed to be loved and cared for. Someone with feelings and needs even though he wasn't quite sure what those needs were at the moment.

As he looked into her eyes Harry thought he could sense she felt he could give her what she needed and he decided right then and there he would…whatever it was he would give it to her. It was just as he had told Ron, after all Hermione Granger had done for him it was the least he could do.

The realization of what he had just decided filled him with a warmth and happiness he had never felt before.

“So how, then,” he asked again, “How are we to get to that little dot in the middle of the ocean?”

Hermione's face broke out in a wide, devious grin.

“Ever been on a Muggle airplane before Harry?”

“No, actually,” Harry blanched, “Is it anything like flying on a broom?”

Hermione wrinkled her cute little nose and rolled her sparkling brown eyes.

“No silly,” she quipped as she grabbed his hand and in her usual bossy fashion she towed Harry from the library, up the stairs and toward his bedroom, “flying on a plane is nothing like a broom. The one we'll be on is very large so you don't even know you're flying really. Now we've got to get you packed!”

Hermione's excitement was back as they entered his room. She turned his hand loose and went right to the closet. She pulled her wand from her pocket and with an expert flick of her wrist all his hanging clothes marched into the room and laid themselves in neat stacks on the bed.

Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

“I thought you said you needed a break from…”

Before he could finish his retort Hermione cast him a withering glare. It shut him right up. He made himself busy pulling under things from the drawers of Sirius' old dresser.

As Hermione stood surveying his clothes a look of sheer agony crossed her face.

“Oh Harry,” she groaned, “Are these the only clothes you have?”

Harry's face blushed scarlet. He knew he didn't possess nice things. Most of his wardrobe consisted of old, worn out Dudley hand-me-downs both tired and ill-fitting. Until that moment he had never cared much about his appearance. It wasn't like he went to fancy parties or social events like Ron. He had only one set of nice clothes and he usually reserved them for hearings in front of an angry Wizengamot or funerals. There had been way too many of both in the past few years.

As they stood surveying his pathetic wardrobe Hermione's whole expression changed as she placed her hands firmly on her hips. She turned to look at Harry with a most serious expression on her face.

“I think it's time for you to get some new things Harry,” Hermione said with an authoritative air, “past time, actually. You once told me you've got plenty of galleons in your vault at Gringotts yes?”

Harry nodded as he fingered one of Dudley's old ragged t-shirts that was two sizes too large.

Hermione reached out and took his hand once again.

“I'm taking you shopping,” Hermione ordered. “We'll stop by Gringotts bank and get the funds you need. Besides, you're going to need a bit of spending money for the trip. I'm sure they can convert some of your galleons to Muggle money.

With that Hermione towed a reluctant Harry away from his room.

Harry's head was spinning slightly as he allowed himself to be pulled down the stairs toward the fireplace down in the kitchen.

A sudden unpleasant thought occurred to him as he followed Hermione through the house.

He stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione stopped with a jolt and turned back to look at Harry's pale face.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I'm not sure how wise it would be for us to show up at Gringotts at present if you know what I mean.” Harry replied.

She realized what he was getting at instantly. The memory of breaking into the wizard bank flooded her mind. They had been single-handedly responsible for an enormous amount of damage to one of the most secure locations in the wizard world. The Goblins were not likely going to forget it any time soon…if ever.

The here-to-for impenetrable establishment not only took a major hit to its reputation but also to the Goblin's pride. There was not only an Official Investigation demanded by the Goblins but there were articles in the Profit for days after detailing every aspect of what was now being called, `The Assault on Gringotts.'

What was left of the Ministry and several members of the Wizengamot had rushed in and attempted to explain to the Goblins what had happened but the Goblins were not at all please there would be no one to answer for the crime. It had created a larger rift in an already strained relationship between Wizards and Goblins and would not be healed any time soon.

For Harry, he felt guilty for being responsible for causing the problems at the Wizard bank.

For Hermione, she thought the whole thing completely ridiculous.

Even though, she stood looking thoughtful for a moment. Then her face took on her usual no-nonsense look as she continued toward the fireplace in the kitchen.

“Not to worry Harry,” she said with her head held high, “That won't be a problem.”

---@>---

The silence of Shell Cottage was almost palpable as Fleur sat on the ornate floral sofa trying to concentrate on a book her mother had given her on her last visit. The only sound was the constant lulling waves rolling gently against the shore in the background of the bright, late morning sun.

It usually had a calming effect but for the last few days it was an effort for her to keep the nausea and light-headedness at bay.

Since Arthur had been elected as Minister for Magic, Molly and Ginny had decided to move into the Minister's residence in London.

Part of Fleur was glad to have her home back to herself but she felt a bit guilty for feeling that way.

Molly was an ever-present entity at the cottage since the night they went to St. Mungo's wanting to be useful as always and Ginny, restless as ever, seemed to be joined at the hip with Dean Thomas the entire time she was there.

Between Arthur, George and Percy constantly popping in and out and Bill being under an enormous amount of stress trying to convince the Goblins what had happened at Gringotts was for the greater good of the wizard world she got very little peace or privacy.

She was about to give up on the book for the present and go make herself a cup of tea when the fireplace in the corner of the living room flared to life in billowing green flames.

Fleur started so violently her whole body seemed to clench painfully.

She looked at the fireplace to see a fiery representation of Hermione Granger's head and shoulders sticking out from the grate.

“I'm really sorry for the intrusion Fleur. I hope I'm not interrupting…” Hermione's flaming head announced.

“No…no, eet is quite alright `ermione. What can I do for you mon cheri?” Fleur asked, still trying to calm her fluttering heart.

“I was looking for Bill actually. Harry needs to withdraw some of his money from his account and as a result of what happened we thought it best to check with Bill first. We don't think the Goblins are…very pleased with us right now.”

Fleur's annoyance at the stress and pressure Bill had been under the past few weeks flashed through her mind but she kept it from reaching her face. She understood as well as anyone why they had to break into Gringotts but it was still hard for her to reconcile the fallout that her husband had been dealing with, her present physical condition not withstanding.

“Bill is at the office at present I believe. Perhaps it would be best eef I were to send him a message on your behalf, no?”

“That would be great,” Hermione's head smiled, “Thank you Fleur. I certainly wouldn't bother you…”

Fleur waved off the apology and rose from the couch. A sudden spell of dizziness swept over her and she had to clutch the arm of the sofa to steady herself. Her stomach seemed to roll unpleasantly as she absent-mindedly clutched her mid section.

Hermione noticed and a look of concern crossed her flaming visage.

“Are you alright Fleur?”

Fleur nodded without answering for a moment. She then straightened up slowly and turned to the fireplace. Hermione thought she looked a little green but made no further comment.

“Just a beet under zee wezar,” Fleur cringed. “Not to worry. I will tell Bill to meet you and Harry out in front of Gringotts at say…” Fleur glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was 10:00a.m., “eleven o' clock? Will zat be acceptamon?”

“That will be perfect Fleur, thank you again for your help,” Hermione paused before she pulled back from the fireplace, “Are you sure…”

Again Fleur's hand came up to stop her question.

“I'm quite alright `ermione,” she answered, “not to worry. I sink I just need to go and lie down for a bit.”

“Very well then,” Hermione still looked concerned but said nothing further about it, “thanks again.”

With that she pulled back from the fireplace and returned to the kitchen at Grimmuald Place. Having been the first time Hermione used the floo in such a manner she found herself a bit disoriented by the experience. She had to sit for a minute and gather her wits. When she recovered she related the info to Harry and they made their way up to the library to wait until about 10:45 before they left.

In that time Hermione had called the Airline she had booked the flight on to see if she could get Harry a seat otherwise she would have to cancel her flight and take a different one. Since the airlines weren't all that busy at present she had no problem getting Harry on and was even able to get them seats together.

She also contacted the Muggle resort where she had booked her reservations and changed them to two guests instead of one. She was pleased to discover she would receive a 15% discount on Harry's stay for adding the extra guest.

She had also made arrangements for them to pick up Harry's passport and Visa on the way back from Diagon Alley.

By the time she was finished she admitted her Muggle credit card was now almost maxed out. Harry frowned at that.

“Don't worry Hermione, I promise I'll pay my part. Maybe Bill can fix it up to put the money back on your card while we're there.”

“Don't worry about it Harry,” Hermione said, “I'm just relived I'll not be going alone.”

Something occurred to Harry at that moment. He had no idea where the thought came from but he couldn't help but grin slyly.

“Well, you could have always invited Cormac McLaggen.”

The look she gave him made him suddenly wish he had not opened his mouth.

“And you can fly half way round the globe in a full body-bind curse as well smart arse!” She glared, “I'd feed you to the sharks but you'd probably just give them indigestion. Can we go now before I really lose my temper?”

Without another word Harry spun on his heel and they made their way down to the front entrance. Thankfully, by the time they reached the door Hermione was chuckling and mumbling to herself about confunded-muscle-bound-bludger-beaten-idiots.

As Harry grabbed the door knob he stopped. He recalled the last time he left through the front entrance. He turned to look at Hermione's surprised face for a second.

“What now Harry,” she asked with her eyebrows raised.

“Erm…maybe we should just apparate from here.”

He really didn't want to get into a long explanation about what had happened to him last time so he just gave her a serious look.

“Wizard press.”

“Ah,” Hermione nodded. She needed no further information then that.

They clasped hands and with a twist Hermione thought of Diagon Alley very clearly in her mind. With a “pop” they both vanished on the spot.

Appearing just outside the entrance to Knockturn Alley they made their way across the small square to the corner of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley near the front entrance to the wizard bank.

They saw Bill standing just outside the building talking to two Aurors who were guarding the front entrance. As Harry and Hermione approached they noticed something very unusual about Bill's appearance.

They realized at once Bill looked quite normal. The damage that had been done to him by Fenrir Greyback seemed to be completely gone! They looked at one-another with large smiles on their faces as they approached Bill's smiling handsome face.

“I can see by your expression my glamour is working flawlessly,” Bill grinned, “Good to see you both again. It's been too long.”

He reached out his hand to Harry shaking it and gave Hermione a quick embrace.

“How…” Harry asked unable to hide the look of surprise.

“It seems the Healers at St. Mungo's are experimenting with all sorts of things like this these days,” Bill replied as he ushered them into the bank, “They've even managed to make a replacement ear for George. It's quite amazing. Looks just like his old one.”

Harry already knew about the ear of course but Hermione was stunned. Harry didn't tell Bill that George and Lee had already modified his ear to do some crazy things.

“Fleur hates it,” Bill added, “She says it's not the real me. I just use it at work. It makes dealing with clients and customers much more comfortable and these days I need to try and be as inconspicuous as possible.”

They knew exactly what Bill was saying. Their little stunt had caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people.

As they made their way toward Bill's office Harry and Hermione got the unmistakable sense of a multitude of eyes on them as they passed. The feeling of malevolent anger settled on the back of Harry's neck like a sunburn and the tension in the place was so thick you could cut through it with a wave of a wand.

As they entered what was a rather large and nicely appointed office Bill went around and settled behind his desk.

He motioned for Harry and Hermione to take two comfortable chairs setting in front of his large oak desk.

To the right a tiny Goblin sat at an appropriately sized desk bent over what looked like a large and elaborate ledger, his quill scratching across the surface filling in numbers taken from a pile of papers on the left side of his tiny desk. He didn't even bother to look up when the others came in.

“That's Trumble Fent,” Bill said introducing the Goblin. The little creature only waved to them without looking, “He's my assistant. Good fellow - very smart with the numbers. Now what can I do for you two. Fleur said you needed to make a withdrawal Harry?”

When Bill said the words withdrawal and Harry the little Goblin's head popped up and he turned to stare at them with wide eyes. Bill scowled at his assistant.

“Mind your business Trumble,” Bill growled, “I'm dealing with a customer.”

The little Goblin said nothing but simply turned and closed the huge ledger book slowly, slipped off his stool and shuffled his way to the door.

“I shall return in a moment Mr. Weasley,” Trumble croaked, “Shall I bring our customers refreshments upon my return?”

“No thank you Trumble but it's very nice of you to ask,” Bill replied not taking his eyes off the Goblin until the office door closed. Bill sighed heavily.

“I'd wager within minutes every Goblin in the building is going to know you two are here so it would probably be best to finish our business as quickly as possible.”

Harry's face fell with a look of sadness.

“I'm really sorry for causing so much trouble for everyone but getting in here without the Death Eater's knowing was essential. I just didn't realize it would cause so much damage…”

Bill held up a hand.

“Think no more about it Harry,” Bill said with his usual handsome roguish grin, “What had to be done is done. So how much will you need?”

Harry thought about it for a moment but then turned to Hermione for advice.

“Well,” Hermione replied looking thoughtful, “You need a complete new wardrobe Harry. You'll also need a few things for our trip…”

“Trip?” Bill asked, his eyebrows set high.

“Yes,” Hermione said blushing slightly, “I need a break from the wizard world for a while so I invited Harry to go on holiday with us for a few weeks. We both need a break from all the ridiculous attention and nonsense.”

Harry couldn't help but catch the us in Hermione's explanation. He was certain she didn't want to explain about her parents.

“Ah,” Bill said with a smile, “I understand completely. So when you say a complete new wardrobe?”

Hermione quickly explained the pathetic state of Harry's clothing. Harry couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Hermione laid a comforting hand on his knee.

“I see,” replied Bill, “Well that will certainly be a bit of an expense. Would you say two thousand would be enough to cover it?”

Hermione looked at Harry, eyes wide not realizing just how much money it would cost to replace everything he had with better stuff. She nodded ruefully.

Harry just grinned, “Better make it three thousand just to be on the safe side.”

Bill only nodded completely unaffected by the request. Hermione blanched.

“For Merlin's sake Harry,” she said glancing at him worriedly, “You don't want to empty your account do you?”

Bill chuckled and Hermione looked at him puzzled.

“Hermione,” Bill said with a smile, “It would take days for a team of Goblins to count all the galleons in Harry's vault. Three thousand pounds worth wouldn't put the smallest of dents in his balance.”

Hermione's eyes flew wide, “I see.”

“The exchange rate from galleons, or should I say gold, to pounds right now is better then it has been in ages. The exchange at the moment is,” he shuffled some papers on his desk until he found what he was looking for then held it up to read it, “790 pounds to the Galleon.”

“Seven hundred and ninety pounds!” Hermione almost choked. She stared at Harry wide-eyed.

Bill nodded.

“Something tells me I should have been investing my allowance in galleons,” Hermione quipped under her breath.

Harry and Bill laughed.

“Can you transfer funds over to say…a Muggle credit card or something like that?” Harry asked. Hermione shot him a look.

“Certainly,” Bill replied, “You've got a credit card Harry?”

“No…no, It's just Hermione went to a lot of expense to make the necessary travel plans and I think she spent most of her money doing it. I would like to replace what she spent on me.”

“It was my parents actually,” Hermione added hastily. It wasn't exactly a lie. The card was in her father's name after all.

“No problem,” said Bill, “Let me see the card and I can do the transfer right from here. Believe it or not the Goblins are heavily invested in the Muggle world. Much of their financial resources come from the profits they make on a few…shall we say…clever inventions they hold patent rights on in the Muggle world.”

Hermione blanched.

“Isn't that a breach of the Statute of Secrecy?”

Bill held his hands out palms down as if to signal for Hermione to keep her voice down. He was suddenly sorry for saying anything about that particular subject.

“Technically…yes,” Bill responded, “but the inventions are only minor ones and the Ministry has seen fit to look the other way so to speak. It's netted a sizable profit and the Goblins have been generous to the Ministry as a result. It's politics Hermione. Having said that it would not be in the Ministry's best interest to object to much of anything at present due to the climate which we find ourselves in if you understand what I'm saying.”

They did but it stuck in Hermione's craw the past Administrations had seen fit to allow such an obvious breach in the law.

Bill cleared his throat and decided to steer the conversation to safer waters and get back to the business at hand.

“So how much do you want in pounds and how much transferred to Hermione's card? Bill asked with a smile.

Harry and Hermione talked it over for a moment then she looked back at Bill.

“Ok, the round trip ticket was 4125 pounds, the open reservation required a 300 pound deposit, add on the Visa and passport fees of 50 pounds and that's it for the expenditures on the card for Harry.”

Bill was working an old-fashioned adding machine while she was speaking.

“Very well, that's 4475 pounds total, factor the exchange rate, transfer and conversion fees, and done!”

Harry tossed Hermione a rye glance then looked back at Bill.

“Transfer an even five thousand to her card if you would please Bill.”

Hermione looked at Harry like he had just insulted her mother.

“No you will not Bill! Just the amount I specified please.”

“Bill.” Harry said.

“Harry!” Hermione glared.

“Hermione,” Bill chuckled, “It's his money. He's the customer.”

Hermione folded her arms in a huff looking mutinous.

“Fine!” she growled, “Do what you like.”

Harry chuckled then they finished making all the necessary funds transfers. They finally decided on three thousand for the wardrobe, one thousand pounds in cash with an additional five thousand put on a Muggle cash card they could use anywhere. It was Bill's suggestion they not carry such a large amount of cash on them.

Harry split the cash and handed half to Hermione who at first refused to take it. When Harry explained it was just for security reasons she reluctantly agreed.

With the funds put back on Hermione's credit card they felt they had enough money to cover just about any situation they might encounter in the Muggle world.

Hermione was still miffed about the extra money but she suddenly recalled how Fleur had looked when she floo-ed Shell Cottage.

“Is Fleur not feeling well Bill? She looked positively ill when I popped in on her. Is she alright?”

Bill's face unexpectedly went a light shade of pink that showed even through his glamour. He sat back in his chair and gave Hermione a significant look mumbling something about confounded clever little witches. Luckily Hermione didn't catch it.

“I'm going to tell you both something I would appreciate not being repeated to anyone else for the time being, understood?”

Both Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Of course Bill,” Hermione said, “not a word. We promise.” Harry nodded.

Bill took a deep steadying breath.

“Fleur's pregnant.”

It took a moment for the announcement to sink in but when it did both Harry and Hermione were on their feet smiling, laughing and congratulating Bill most jubilantly. Bill, on the other hand didn't look quite as enthusiastic about the news. That struck Hermione as quite odd.

“What's wrong Bill? Why do you look so unhappy?”

Bill looked as if he were struggling with some very unpleasant thoughts for a moment.

“Fleur's alright isn't she?” Harry asked, becoming a bit alarmed himself.

Finally Bill decided to out with his concerns.

“It's just I'm scared that's all. What with Fleur being part Veela and you're well aware of my affliction…I'm just worried there will be complication or we might lose the baby for some odd reason,” Bill leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. He dropped his head in his hands, “Losing the baby would absolutely kill Fleur. We've decided not to tell anyone yet until we are sure she can carry the baby to term. Mum doesn't even know yet and she's been popping in and out for the past two weeks. We've just been telling her Fleur's ill.”

When Bill looked up finally he saw Harry had a look of honest concern on his face but when he glanced at Hermione she was giving him a knowing little cryptic smirk.

“What's that look for Hermione?” Bill inquired a bit haughtily.

“Personally I don't think you've got a thing to worry about Bill,” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“Explain?”

“Very simple actually,” Hermione replied grinning, “I think you're forgetting an important fact. This had already been accomplished if I'm not mistaken…and I'm not.”

Both Harry and Bill gave her quizzical looks. Hermione just rolled her eyes at how thick they were being.

“Nymphadora and Remus you knuckleheads!” Hermione laughed, “And if I recall correctly, and I think I do,” she continued smugly, “Remus' lycanthropic infection was quite a bit more severe than yours and I believe little Teddy picked up his mother's traits instead. Even though it would seem the lycanthropy would be the dominant trait in that situation it didn't seem to manifest itself in Teddy at all…quite curious actually but really Bill, I don't think you need to torture yourself like this. I think your chances of having a perfectly healthy baby are ten times what they were for Remus and Tonks and it didn't stop them in the least.”

A look of sheer wonder and surprise settled on Bill's features. Harry just sat grinning at her. He had become well accustomed to her level of intelligence over the years.

“Why that's…I…” Bill stammered, then recovered quickly. “You know, the Healers didn't even pick up on that. Why do I suddenly feel very foolish?”

“Not to worry Bill,” Harry said, “Happens to me all the time when I hang around with this one.” He threw a thumb in Hermione's direction.

Hermione just rolled her eyes again but decided to bask in the glow of her own cleverness for a moment. That hadn't happened in a long time.

Now, if I could just fix the problems that plague my parents I would be a bloody genius!

She tried to shake those dark thoughts away. It would do her no good to start brooding.

“Speaking of Teddy,” Harry turned to Hermione, “Do you think we have time to pop over for a visit before we leave tomorrow?”

Hermione consulted the large, antique clock on the wall of Bill's office. They had been there a little over an hour. She figured it would take several hours to get everything Harry needed even if they hurried.

“I'd say we could go visit Andromeda this evening if you like but we'll need to hustle. Our flight leaves Heathrow at 11:00 a.m. in the morning.”

Bill shot Harry a surprised look.

“You're going to fly,” he asked quite amused, “on a Muggle airplane?”

Harry just shrugged. Hermione smirked again.

“Ever try apparating with luggage?”

“Ah!” Bill understood at once.

With that he stood and escorted the two back out into Diagon Alley. Harry and Hermione wasted no time in returning to #12 for as soon as they stepped outside the bank they realized Diagon Alley had become thick with witches and wizards and it didn't take long for someone to recognize them. The last thing they wanted was to get mobbed.

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18. 18 - Visit

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Eighteen - Visit

Once back at #12 Harry and Hermione wasted no time in making their way into Muggle London via the tube. They quickly made their way trough a few clothing stores picking up the essentials like trouser, shirts, socks and undergarments.

Harry's mind was in a constant state of dizziness as Hermione dragged him from one location to another. It was the first time in his life he had ever been shopping for himself and he felt dull-witted and completely out of sorts. He simply relied on Hermione's knowledge and expertise in the present situation.

He determined if he could trust her with his life he could very well trust her to outfit him with some stylish togs so he simply went along for the ride and did as he was asked without much fuss.

Hermione had become so intent on getting Harry squared away not only was she at her bossiest best but she had not thought about her parents in hours. The distraction, while making her feel a touch guilty, was welcome. She had managed to find quite a few bargains and sale items that helped trim down what she knew was going to be a whopping expenditure.

She had to admit to herself the lessons in frugal shopping learned from her mother through the years had paid off big time.

After they had acquired most all the essentials Hermione concentrated on items he would need for his trip. She wanted Harry to have fun without worrying about anything. She figured this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime holiday so they might as well go big.

They found themselves running through Allders in Croydon, then off to Selfridges & Co. and John Lewis on Oxford St. then found themselves in the ever-present BHS (British Home Stores) where they managed to round out Harry's makeover with one of his first ever pair of new trainers. He was so please with his new shoes he told the sales lady he wanted to wear them out. Hermione could help but laugh.

They had a bit of time left before heading out of London to visit Andromeda and little Teddy so they browsed in the store.

“We certainly got a lot of stuff didn't we,” Harry asked looking at the huge pile of bags and boxes they had accumulated in their spree. They had lugged it all to BHS by hand.

Hermione frowned as she took it all in, then casting a furtive glance about the men's department saw they were quite alone for the moment.

With a wave of her wand she cast a shrinking charm on all but two of the bags. All the rest of their items fit quite nicely in those.

Harry gave her a significant look but she just smirked at him. He couldn't help but chuckle.

She saw some very nice Hawaiian-type shirts that screamed Tropical Vacation on a display rack and talked Harry into trying them on along with some swim trunks. He rolled his eyes but said nothing as he made his way to the fitting rooms.

As she browsed the Misses department waiting on Harry something in the display window made Hermione stop in her tracks and gawk open-mouthed.

It was a gold, very tiny string bikini made out of some type of very shiny fabric. It was to DIE FOR! The top was nothing more than two small triangles of gold caught in a web of thin strings to keep them in place. For someone as buxom as say…Cho Chang or Lavender Brown the top would have left scant little to the imagination of their ample breasts but for Hermione, who found herself looking down at what she considered her paltry bust line she thought it would fit quite nicely.

The bottom was of the thong variety and the practical woman in her gagged at the idea of ever getting caught dead in such a scandalous garment…but for the first time in her life Hermione was feeling a bit rebellious. Getting killing curses hurled at you, tortured, chased by blood-thirsty Death Eaters and tossed aside by the boy you thought you were in love with can change even the most introverted of souls.

She stood there staring longingly at the bathing suit when a saleswoman approached.

“Can I help you with something Miss?” She asked.

Hermione contemplated for a moment sucking on her bottom lip, then decided to take the plunge.

Why not? It's my escape! I'll do it my way. I don't care what anyone else thinks!

“Do you have this in a size to fit me?” She asked the clerk pointing to the gold bikini.

“Certainly,” the woman smiled broadly, “Would you like to try it on?”

Hermione nodded but then stopped.

“Wait,” she inquired with her brows pinched together, “How much?”

“I believe that one is 125 pounds Miss. It's on sale!” The woman said smiling.

A HUNDRED AND TWENTY FI…

Hermione started to sweat. No matter how lovely and sexy it looked she could not justify spending that much money on less than a dozen square inches of fabric and some pretty shoe strings. The rebellion seemed to be squashed before it was able to muster any steam at all.

The saleswoman seemed to understand Hermione's hesitancy.

“Why don't you try it on anyway Miss,” the women said, “No harm in looking yes?”

Oh! This woman's clever!

“Right,” Hermione said wincing inside.

“I'll meet you at the changing booths.”

She passed the changing room Harry was using and knocked. She heard the latch click open. When she peaked inside he was wearing a pair of dark blue swim trunks and nothing else. The sight of his slender but rather well defined body made the temperature go up a bit.

Harry turned to look at her with a smile

“Well how do I look?” He asked.

“Smashing Harry,” she wasn't really talking about the swim trunks, “if you don't mind I'm going to try something on.”

Harry glanced out into the store with a grin.

“Of course not,” he said, looking at her a bit funny, “Why would I mind?”

“Well, it's just we're here for you not me,” she said shyly, “that's all.”

“What a load of rubbish Hermione,” Harry worked on taking one of the shirts from the hanger and unbuttoning it, “get whatever you want or need. It's on me…”

Hermione threw up both hands out in front of her as if to stop something.

“No…NO, Harry,” she stuttered, “I'm just trying something on to see how it looks that's all. No way can I afford it.”

Harry gave her a look of annoyance but Hermione made a hasty exit as she saw the saleswoman approach. She was holding the bikini high up in front of her as if to parade it around the shop for everyone to see.

Hermione approached quickly and snatched it from her grasp.

“Umm…sorry, thanks.” Hermione muttered as she slid quickly into the fitting room.

Before she could snatch the bikini from the woman's hand Harry had poked his head around the corner of the fitting room door and saw what the woman was holding. He couldn't believe how tiny the bathing suit was.

Hermione? In a tog like that? Ooh my... I think I'd give my wand arm to see her in that…

He quickly derailed his train of thought right there! In fact…he laid dynamite on the tracks, blew them up and the train disappeared into a smoking hole!

Blushing scarlet from the neck up he went back to his own fitting.

For Hermione, the silky gold two-piece fit her body like it was made specifically for her. In her mind it showed just the right amount of what to her were her pathetically small breasts. (Although, they really weren't that small. She just didn't burst out of her tops like Cho or Lavender) Not too much…not too little. She thought it scandalous but found her reflection smiling at the thought of the look on Ron's face if he saw her.

I'll show you Scarlet woman you moron!

The straps of the bottom rode high on the slender curve of her hips and tied off on both sides. The tiny triangle panel in the front was large enough to cover what needed to be covered but that was all. The smaller panel in the back seemed to be just for show. It fit snugly against the small of her back but left both cheeks of her bottom completely exposed. She felt almost completely naked but as she stood there looking at herself she couldn't help thinking.

Merlin…It looks smashing on me!

She fluffed her abundant hair and let it spill unfettered down her back. The young woman looking back at her in the mirror was not the introverted know-it-all book worm she came to recognize throughout her life and she liked it.

But as quickly as the magical moment came, it evaporated like the morning mist over the Hogwarts Lake as the price tag tickled the extreme left edge of her breast.

It took her less than five seconds to remove the most beautiful bikini she had ever seen. With a heavy sigh she re-dressed, hung the garment back on the hanger and went out to tend to Harry.

When she opened the door she found him sitting on a bench just outside her fitting room waiting. She flung the bikini behind her with a twitch but it was much too late. He was looking right at her.

“What's that you've got there,” he asked.

Hermione blushed so hot she thought her hair was going to spontaneously combust.

“Oh…erm, nothing,” She stammered, “Just wanted to see how it…looked.” Hermione turned on her heel and fled.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He continued to sit waiting for Hermione to return when the sales woman passed by with an arm full of garments on hangers.

“Excuse me Miss,” Harry asked as he stood up.

The sales woman stopped and smiled brightly at him.

“That thing my friend tried on. You know what it was?”

“Yes sir, of course,” she replied brightly.

“Can you do me a favor please,” Harry asked.

“Certainly,” the sales woman said.

“Can you wrap it up like a present and put it in a separate bag for me? Nothing to elaborate just a simple package. I would like to purchase it for her but I don't want her to know. She would probably throw a fit but if I give it to her once we get to where we're going she won't be able to say no.”

“Oh, how romantic,” the sales lady's eyes grew wide, “she'll love it I'm sure. Consider it done.”

“Thanks,” Harry said as she rushed off.

Romantic? What's romantic about a present? We give them to each other all the time.

Several hours and a few thousand pounds later Hermione had outfitted Harry with a complete new wardrobe and everything she thought he would need for an extended holiday on the islands.

Before they returned to Grimmuald Place she called to double check the flight departure time, boarding pass confirmation, Visa registration and the accommodation update. Everything was in order.

When they got back they spent the time removing tags and packing. By five that evening Harry was all set.

As he stood there clad in a pair of new, well fitting blue jeans, a light grey button up long sleeve blouse and his spotless new trainers Hermione couldn't help but marvel at how much more put together he looked in clothes that actually fit him. He was handsome.

Granger…you are a bloody genius! Now if you could just do something with that hair!

After a quick evening meal at #12 they decided to head out to visit Andromeda and little Teddy.

“Do you know where the Tonks cottage is,” Harry asked as they prepared to apparate, “I know I've been there but I don't exactly know the way.”

“Not to worry Harry,” Hermione smiled as she latched on to Harry, spun on a heel and vanished with a loud pop!

At the other end they both stumbled out into the park across from the Hermione's parent's house. It surprised Harry for a moment. He was expecting to land at the Tonk's.

When he made to ask Hermione what she was doing she just smirked.

“I've got a bit of a surprise for you.”

“Ok…” Harry replied but decided not to push. She would tell him in her own time.

They made a bee-line toward the front yard careful to look around to check for any unsuspecting Muggles.

As they gained the front entrance Harry was laughing to himself. Hermione turned and gave him an odd look.

“I was just thinking of the last time I came here.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she let them in. Hermione went directly to the kitchen leaving Harry standing in the foyer.

The place looked as if someone had been living there all along now. Harry made his way about the den looking around as he waited for her to return.

“Is Crookshanks still with Andromeda then?” Harry asked in a loud voice. He had remembered she had told him about that a while ago but he had forgotten.

“Yes,” she said from the other room. It sounded as if she was going through drawers looking for something, “as much as I hate to admit it I think he's much happier there with them…ah there you are!”

Harry heard a drawer slide shut and something that made a metallic jingling sound. When Hermione appeared in the doorway to the kitchen she was holding a set of keys in her hand and smiling rather sadly looking around the room.

“What is it?” Harry asked but he already knew the answer.

“I miss them Harry,” Hermione whispered.

It was caring and a deep concern for her that propelled Harry forward. He folded Hermione into a gentile embrace. She laid her head on his chest.

“They'll be home before you know it,” he said with all the conviction he could muster.

“I know,” Hermione said as she looked at her hands, “but I can't help but feel like I'm abandoning them in their time of need.”

“Having second thoughts about this trip?” Harry asked holding her by the shoulders looking her squarely in the eyes.

Hermione's expression changed to one of certainty and conviction. She knew she had done everything she could to help her parents up to this point and nothing could be gained by coming apart at the seams. She needed to get away, if for no other reason then to clear her mind and get some much needed rest.

“No Harry,” she replied a bit more sternly then she had intended, “We both need this. My parents are in the best capable hands and until we can find an answer there's nothing more that can be done for them. I have to face that. It's just as Neville said. I'm going to have to eventually come to terms with the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” Harry asked but he already knew the answer.

“That there my be no way back for my mother and father. I have to somehow accept that as a possibility yes?”

Harry frowned.

“That sounds like Hermione has given up,” he said darkly, “That's not the Hermione Granger I know.”

It was Hermione's turn to frown.

“You of all people should know me better than that Harry.”

That shut Harry up right and proper. He smiled as he looked at her sideways for a moment. Hermione pushed him back with a gentle stiff-arm to the chest.

“Let's go visit your Godson shall we?” Hermione grinned, “We'll save the heavy discussions for some other time?”

“So how are we to get to the Tonk's? Apparate…floo…or take the Knight Bus?”

Hermione smiled her devastatingly devious and cute little dimpled smirk.

“None of the above Mr. Smarty New Pants,” She held up the ring of keys and jingled them in his face, “We're going to drive!”

Harry was completely stunned by that revelation. At first he thought she was trying to make a joke but when she grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the front door he quickly realized she wasn't kidding at all.

She let them out of the house and locked the door behind them. Turning to the right side of the house they went to what Harry recognized as the garage. He remembered some of the houses in his old neighborhood at Little Whinging had a single-car garage attached to them but this one was three times the size.

Hermione went to the side of one of the big roll up doors, lifted a small lid that revealed a hidden key pad. She touched the pad a few times and the big door began to open all by itself. Hermione chuckled at Harry's amazed expression.

Inside were three automobiles, each one looked larger than the next. The first was a large black sedan. Harry didn't know much about Muggle cars but he was looking at a Mercedes-Benz 500SEL.

Hermione quickly explained it was her mother's car. Her father wanted her to drive something safe.

Next to the big black sedan was a slightly smaller beautiful blue BMW M3. It looked fast just sitting there.

Finally Hermione pulled him toward what looked to him like an older, smaller little convertible car that looked positively antique next to the other newer modern vehicles. Hermione smiled at him as she laid her hand lovingly on the top of the little green machine.

“This is a car my father bought from some bloke who refurbished these things for sport, I think. This one needed some repairs so my father purchased it and had a repair shop go through the whole thing to make certain it operated correctly.”

“What is it?” Harry asked. It looked nothing like his Uncle Vernon's small sedan nor did it resemble the Weasley's old Anglia.

“It called an MG Midget. My father fell in love with it and thought it would be a car I would like to drive around if I got the notion, not that I drive all that much.”

Harry looked at her with eyes wide.

“You drive this thing…or does it fly?”

“Well, of course I can drive it and no it doesn't fly!” Hermione gave him a funny look as she opened the driver's door, worked the latches on the convertible top laying it back then slid behind the wheel, “I got my driver's license two years ago.” She paused then smiled, “I am a Muggle you know. Come on…get in!” She patted the passenger's seat.

She noticed Harry's reluctance.

“Oh come on Harry don't you trust me?” She said grinning. With that she slid the key into the switch, turned it and with a few tries the little car came to life. The engine purred quietly as she sat there waiting. Finally, swallowing a mouth full of saliva Harry slid into the passenger seat and settled in.

“Don't forget your seat belt.” Hermione quipped.

Harry looked around for a moment a bit confused.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” Hermione huffed with a sigh as she leaned over Harry and snapped the lap belt in place. After she buckled her own belt she yanked up on the center console parking break lever and dropped it, slid the shifter into first and eased out the clutch. Revving the engine just slightly the little sports car began to ease forward. When they cleared the garage Hermione reached up and touched a red button on a small box hanging on the sun visor.

Harry turned to watch the garage door close all by itself. With that Hermione laughed and took off out of the driveway screeching the tires slightly. The sudden acceleration threw Harry back against the seat.

He was amazed at how easily she maneuvered the little car through the crowded London streets, zipping in and out of traffic as if she had done it all her life. He watched as she seemed to know exactly when to move the leaver in between them to make the car go faster or slower depending on what the traffic around them was doing.

She briefly explained to Harry the differences in an automatic transmission and a manual one. He couldn't help but be completely impressed and amazed by her.

As they passed beyond the crowded busy city center and into the English countryside Hermione told Harry she was going to stretch the little car's legs a bit. The car hadn't been driven in a while. With that she worked her way up through the gears until it felt as if they were flying down the road.

“This thing really goes fast doesn't it?” Harry asked, “I feel like I'm riding a broom but it's much less windy.”

Hermione laughed. Harry couldn't help but notice she seemed to be relaxing. This drive was definitely having a positive affect on her disposition.

“Not really Harry,” she explained, “This little car will only go about 90 or maybe 95 miles per hour top speed.”

“Well, that's pretty fast isn't it?”

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders.

“Not when you consider your Nimbus flies nearly as fast and that blue car you saw in the garage…”

Harry nodded.

“It can reach speeds well above 150 miles per hour.”

Harry mouthed the word `WOW!'

They settled into a comfortable silence as Hermione concentrated on driving and Harry, his initial nervous jitters now subsided, watched the scenery flash by as they made their way further into the country.

Soon businesses and residences gave way to quaint country farm houses and long stretches of open rolling fields and knots of dense forest. After several miles of that Hermione finally turned left onto a narrow roughly paved road that wound deep into a thick grove of very large trees that towered over them.

The dappled sunlight flashed across them as the crisp clean air assaulted his nostrils. Harry sat back and took it all in. It wasn't long before she turned again onto an even narrower dirt road that wound ever deeper into the dense forest. The trees and undergrowth seemed to press in on the little car on both sides.

Hermione seemed completely unaffected by it as she expertly piloted the car up over a small incline then out into a clearing. The road curved sharply to the right and they came to an abrupt stop at a white and red stripped warning barrier. It appeared to be a dead end.

Hermione pulled her wand, swished it saying “Evanesco!”

The barrier and the wooded area beyond seemed to slowly shimmer and evaporate. In their place the dirt road continued. When Hermione continued on she pointed her wand over her shoulder and the dirt road all but disappeared behind them.

Not much further up was the house Harry remembered. He could see the area where he and Hagrid crashed. He knew the remnants of Sirius' motorbike were still ensconced in Arthur's tinker's shed. It made him a bit sad to realize it would probably never fly again as they came to a smooth stop in front of the house.

He looked over at Hermione beaming widely as she turned off the engine.

“That was brilliant Hermione!”

“Yes…well,” she quipped a bit glumly, “Not quite like a broom though is it?”

Harry frowned at her slight as they got out of the car. He wondered where that came from all of a sudden. She seemed in such better spirits while they were driving. He thought that a bit curious.

Andromeda had already opened the front door waving a jovial greeting with little Teddy in her arms.

“Hello Hermione!” Andromeda beamed, “How lovely to see you again.” When she saw Harry passed her shoulder her smile got bigger, “And Harry as well, how wonderful! Come in…come in!”

She waved them both into the house with great enthusiasm. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Hermione took hold of little Teddy almost immediately and Andromeda seemed almost relieved to hand him off.

Harry watched in wonder as Hermione cooed and spoke to little Teddy. He smiled and laughed like mad when Hermione grabbed him. He seemed to know her instantly.

“Please Harry come in and make yourself at home,” Andromeda told him. “This is the first time you've seen Theodore since he was born isn't it?”

“It is actually,” Harry said not able to take his eyes off the little tyke.

Hermione turned and looked at Harry smiling.

“Do you want to hold your Godson Harry?”

Harry could only nod. He suddenly found himself unable to speak. Little Teddy was as cute as any little baby he had ever seen. It was impossible to miss the features of both his parents but what shocked Harry most was as Hermione approached Teddy's smile seemed to grow as his eyes stayed locked on Harry's face. He reached out for Harry.

When Teddy settled into Harry's embrace he held on to Harry for dear life. It was almost as if the little tyke knew exactly who Harry was.

Harry's heart melted at once. It was all he could do to keep from breaking down into a blubbering mass. Hermione wasn't so subtle. Silent tears leaked from the corner of her eyes as she watched Harry nuzzle Teddy affectionately for the first time. It was almost as if she could see the physical connection being made between them.

For most of the rest of the visit the baby stayed in Harry's arms or sat quite contentedly in his lap while he and Hermione caught up with Andromeda. Several times Crookshanks came and wound his way around Harry's legs, finally settling quite contentedly at Hermione's feet when she finally sat down.

At one point Harry was sitting talking to Andromeda when he felt something warm and wet on his leg. He snatched Teddy up only to realize he had hosed his diaper leaving a rather large dark circle of wet on Harry's jeans. They all laughed as Hermione took Teddy from Harry.

“I'll take care of this,” she chuckled, “I'm becoming quite good at swaddling the little imp.”

With that she disappeared down the hall to one of the bedrooms.

“I'm so glad you two came to visit Harry.” Andromeda said as Harry scourgified his pants. “Hermione comes when she can and Molly comes by but I so rarely have any company.”

“Well,” Harry looked at her seriously, “When we get back from holiday I promise I'm going to be more of a presence in Teddy's life if I can. I want to know and spend time with my Godson. I know if Sirius was able we would have had more time together. I want him to know he's not alone.”

The conviction in his voice made Andromeda move to embrace Harry lovingly.

“He needs you,” she whispered, “He needs as many people as are willing to take the time with him. It's important.”

“You're absolutely right,” Harry said.

“I suppose you of all people should understand that,” Andromeda said a bit sadly.

“As long as I'm able Teddy will never feel alone.” Harry said as he watched Hermione reappear with a freshly swathed Teddy huddled tightly in her arms.

He couldn't help but marvel how at ease Hermione was with him. They seemed to have an amazing bond only they could understand. Hermione whispered something into Teddy's ear and the tyke giggled madly. His hair suddenly went from a light sandy brown color to a flaming red.

“Well done!” Hermione said laughing, pinching his chin affectionately. She seemed like a completely different person since they arrived at the house.

They visited for a while longer as the sun began disappearing behind the trees. They took little Teddy outside and Harry rolled around with him in the grass for a time, laughing and playing, Crookshanks never very far away.

Andromeda looked expectantly at Hermione for a moment almost seeming hesitant to ask a question but then gave in.

“Hermione I was wondering if it would be possible for Crooks to…stay a little longer. I realize you must miss him terribly but Teddy has become so attached to the furry little beastie…”

“Of course Andromeda,” Hermione said, her eyebrows pinched together only slightly.

As if knowing he was the topic of discussion Crookshanks made his way over to Hermione and practically vaulted into her arms. She snuggled her part Kneazle for a moment then wrinkled her nose.

“Merlin's ghost Crookshanks,” she coughed, “what have you been rolling in. You smell terrible!”

“Oh Crooks,” Andromeda put her hands on her hips, “You've been chasing gnomes into the peat bog again haven't you?”

Crookshanks just gave them a look as if he was saying, `Who…me? Sorry you must have me mistaken for another Kneazle.'

“Ugh,” Hermione put him back down, “I suppose I should give him a bath before I leave.”

“Oh think nothing of it Hermione,” Andromeda smiled, “I'll just toss him in with the baby later. He loves splashing about the bath with Teddy.”

Hermione's eyebrows all but disappeared in surprise.

“You mean Crookshanks likes to get wet?” Harry asked shocked.

“Only when he's chasing gnomes or when Teddy's taking a bath. I think he feels a bit left out when Teddy's getting washed. Sometimes I have to fill both sides of the kitchen sink. Teddy sits in one and the barmy old cat in the other. Funniest thing I've ever seen.”

Hermione began laughing so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks. Harry couldn't help but laugh along with her. The thought of her cranky old cat-kneazle sitting in a sink full of water looking for all the world like a drowned rat was just too much.

They watched as Crooks sauntered away quite haughtily in response. He apparently didn't see the humor in it at all.

Once Hermione regained control of herself they bid their farewells to Andromeda and Teddy who decided to morph into what appeared to be a furry little monkey for a brief moment.

“That's his father coming out in him,” Hermione explained.

Teddy held on to Harry for dear life until Andromeda had to practically pry him out of Harry's arms. He cried for only a short moment but it was enough to make Harry's heart almost break. He was reluctant to leave.

“Don't worry,” Hermione whispered in his ear, “We'll come back when we get home. He has a way of growing on you…doesn't he?”

“Yes,” Harry replied sadly, “He does.”

They watched Andromeda and Teddy disappearing into the house but Harry just stood there, the aching in his heart something strange and new.

For a moment he thought about love. He knew he loved little Teddy even though the tyke belonged to someone else. He felt like family to Harry, not that he ever really had a real one of his own. He thought about what Dumbledore had told him about it but that didn't quite explain what he was feeling at that moment. It was different.

The love he had felt for Ginny was real. He knew it was but it was different. He knew he loved the Weasley family but again it was different. What he was feeling for Teddy was unexplainable…at least until he felt Hermione slip her hand in his and lean against him as he stood there looking at the Tonks house.

When he glanced at Hermione's face, upturned slightly, giving him a quizzical look it finally dawned on him what he was feeling…because she felt it for him as well.

Unconditional love!

He wasn't sure if he fully grasped the concept but he understood that to love someone unconditionally there were no barriers between you. You accepted one-another exactly as you found them. Nothing that could be done or said would ever change that connection, that trust…and nothing could ever come between that love - not even death.

He slipped his arm around Hermione's shoulder and gave her a slight hug.

“Thanks for bringing me her today,” he said softly, “This visit was long overdue.”

Hermione beamed up at him and merely nodded.

“What say we go back to my folk's?” Hermione suggested, “You might want to let Kreacher know we'll be gone for a few weeks, yes?”

Harry nodded.

As they made their way back toward London he couldn't seem to shake the melancholy feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach. Many things passed through his mind as the countryside gave way to brick, concrete, asphalt and stop lights. Once inside the city limits the noise was almost deafening after the quiet of the country.

For some strange reason Godric's Hollow popped into Harry's mind. He had no idea why but the memory of Bowman Wright's old home place, the house his mother and father had lived in sat decrepit and destitute.

Why?

He thought he remembered Hagrid telling him something about how the house couldn't be repaired because of how it was destroyed.

Does that still apply now that Voldemort is truly dead?

He was suddenly struck with an idea. Maybe it was born out of the feeling of family he got when he was holding Teddy. He wasn't sure but at that moment he was certain some day, maybe not tomorrow or even next year…but some day he wanted to return to Godric's Hollow. Not just for a visit…but to live there…in his parents old house if he could manage it.

It was much more than a promise - it was a conviction.

A/N - I'm not certain if the conversation between Harry and Hagrid about the destruction of the cottage in Godric's Hollow ever took place or not. I distinctly remember hearing that somewhere but could find no references to it during my research. It may not have been Hagrid who told him that or I might have read it in another Fan-Fic story somewhere. I'm only mentioning this so I don't get “called on the carpet” for it later! Thanks - as always for reading!

DWK/NGL

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19. 19 - Preparations and Introductions

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

A/N - I apologize for taking so long to update. I've had Everest-sized personal issues to deal with over the past few months. I'll try to update as quick as I can and thanks once- again for reading.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Nineteen - Preparations and Introductions

Headmistress McGonagall looked around at her staff pleased most of her original Professors had decided to return…with a few obvious exceptions.

A single long table had been set up in the Great Hall to provide space necessary for this impromptu staff meeting before the term began. She felt it necessary not only to introduce the new additions but also bring everyone up to scratch on repairs, preparations and final details.

Minerva found herself rather preoccupied at the prospects of being Headmistress for the coming year. In her heart she would gladly trade her position to have all those who gave their lives so this meeting could take place back among the living.

The revelation of Sybill's new prophecy did little to assuage the feeling of gloom and urgency that seemed to permeate the Headmistresses office but she did her best not to let it trickle down to her staff. She constantly worried Hagrid would spill the beans but he seemed to understand the importance of keeping it secret for now.

The addition of her hand picked Transfiguration Professor seemed to set well with all who had introduced themselves to Zalina Sheryl Star. She seemed genuinely pleasant. It wasn't difficult to understand why she seemed so popular with the male members of the staff but Ms. Star remained cordial and professional.

The position of Defense Against the Dark Arts had been filled by a middle-aged gentleman named Hilliard Dervish. He was a high spirited chap who seemed to have nervous energy oozing from every pore.

He had worked inside the Aurors Department for over 11 years as an administrator and his skills were quite extensive. The reason he never saw fieldwork was due to his high-strung nature and had developed a severe pigeon toed condition about a year after he had graduated from training.

After Professor Sinistra had met Professor Dervish she had quietly compared him to a Yorkshire terrier that had been fed too many sweets but he was pleasant and jovial and seemed to be accepted by the rest of the staff readily enough.

Professor Dervish put others in mind of Gilderoy Lockhart but with the actual skills to teach D. A. D. A. although they looked nothing alike. Professor Dervish was reed thin, rather short, bulging ice blue eyes and a wild shock of auburn hair that looked like someone had attached several rusty wire brushes to the top of his head.

The Muggle studies Professor Charity Burbage was replaced with a Muggle-born witch named Agnes Llewellyn. She had been living primarily in the Muggle world after she graduated from Hogwarts some 15 years before. It had been as a result of a rather nasty splinching incident during a side-along apparition with a friend that caused her to temporarily abdicate from the Wizard world. She didn't like to talk about it.

And finally, after all the falderal that took place at Hogwarts during the destruction of Voldemort, Professor Binns formally announced his retirement. Atriums Croaker, a retired Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries agreed to take over the History of Magic position.

He was a rather quiet and reserved bloke but seemed pleasant enough. He had a bald head, weak chin and a very long neck. He bore a very strange resemblance to a light bulb.

After the formal introductions were concluded McGonagall took a deep breath and began the information portion of the meeting.

“Firstly, I am proud to announce that our Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick has been selected and has graciously agreed to accept the position as the new Assistant Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

He received unanimous applause and congratulations all around.

“Thank you, Minerva,” Professor Flitwick said beaming, “and thank you all very much. I will try to bring as much honor and respect to the position as you did Headmistress.”

“I have no doubt you will Filius.” McGonagall said smiling.

“Next I would like to announce the new Head of Gryffindor house will be none other than Rubeus Hagrid.”

The reception to this news was rather mixed but all applauded appropriately.

Hagrid nervously lurched to his feet sending the bench he was sitting on sliding back several feet with a loud screech across the flagstone floor. Many cringed at the sound.

“Than' ye' Headmistress for this opportunity,” he nodded at McGonagall, “I'll do my bes' ter' keep all our fine Gryffindor's in line.”

“Yes,” McGonagall said clearing her throat gently, “I'm sure you'll do a fine job Rubeus.”

When Hagrid awkwardly regained his seat she turned her attention back to the table.

“And lastly, in regard to our new appointments I am sorry to announce that Rolanda Hooch will not return this year.”

There were many groans and awe's among the table.

“She has accepted a position with International Quidditch Officiating Committee to referee professional Quidditch matches. We have accepted Mr. Oliver Wood to take her place but he will not be available to start until a few days before the term begins. It seems he's being required to complete his contractual obligations with the Puddlemere United before he can accept the position.”

McGonagall took a breath and continued.

“As you all know the reparations are now complete. Most everything has been put back in place but there still may be some minor adjustments left to be made in each department or classroom. Please inform me as soon as possible if you require any additional materials or items not present in your areas.”

“Now, I wish to take this time to discuss a few items that I believe will have an impact on the coming school term.”

“As most of you are aware, many of our 7th year students were unable to complete their N.E.W.T. level courses due to the…interruption of our curriculum last season. I am pleased to report most all those students will be returning this year to finish their studies…however, this presents an unusual and unique situation Hogwarts has not been subjected to in its long and illustrious history.”

“Most all these returning 7th year students will be eighteen years of age. I don't think I need elaborate on the possible problems that can arise from this situation but at the Sorting Ceremony I shall take great care in reminding our older students they will be expected to conduct themselves as young ladies and gentlemen for the duration of the term but as we are all aware and I am certain you realize, boy and girls will be boys and girls.”

“I am counting on you to be diligent in assisting me to maintain an acceptable level of decency within our institution. Please do not hesitate to report any…untoward behavior to either myself or Professor Flitwick at once.”

“As a result of the notoriety of some of our returning students, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…”

McGonagall indicated with a hand toward Kingsley Shacklebolt who was sitting quite stealthily in the far corner of the Hall. All heads turned in his direction and he gave a curt nod in response.

“…has agreed to provide appropriate security for the school term. We feel it in our best interest to protect these individuals from outside interference and over-zealous…well wishers. Mr. Shacklebolt, would you like to inform the staff of the details of your security?”

“Certainly Headmistress,” Kingsley rose and made his way to stand at the far end of the conference table. He looked around at them all smiling pleasantly, “As a result of what took place in the final confrontation with the Dark Lord a few of the students have become…rather well known for their rolls in defeating the evil that plagued our world. It is for this reason, as well as ensuring no retaliation will take place, the Aurors will be a constant, but unobtrusive presence in and around the institution for the duration of the coming term. As many of you may already know the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has opened several new satellite offices throughout the wizard world. One such office now exists in Hogsmeade and will be staffed with some of our top Aurors.”

Pomona Sprout raised her hand a bit tentatively but Kingsley smiled at the Herbology professor warmly.

“Yes Madam Sprout?”

“I was wondering,” she asked pleasantly, “Will the Aurors assigned be under the authority of Hogwarts or the Ministry?”

“Those stationed here at Hogwarts will answer directly to me however if any of you have problems with any of my staff please feel free to contact me directly at once or let the Headmistress know. They have all been briefed to be as inconspicuous as possible but do not hesitate to call on them if you suspect trouble. That's precisely what they will be here for.”

Professor Sprout nodded.

It was Zalina who raised her hand next as she felt most everyone's attention shift to her. Kingsley nodded to her with the same pleasant smile.

“Are we to assume the…Golden Trio will be returning to complete their final term, Mr. Shacklebolt?”

Kingsley glanced at McGonagall. He wasn't sure just exactly what she had told them. The Headmistress picked up on the significance of his gaze immediately and returned a rather stern look of her own. She wanted Harry to complete his education but also realized it would be difficult if not nearly impossible for him to return to Hogwarts without being bombarded by…well…almost everyone. She still felt a bit miffed at Kingsley for suggesting he go into Auror training. She cut in.

“To be perfectly honest we are not precisely certain which, if any, of the Trio will return this year. I have personally extended the invitation to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger but have not received confirmation they will capitulate at this juncture. I certainly hope they will.”

Kingsley held up a hand briefly.

“I can assure you Ronald Weasley will be attending his final term.” He tried desperately to keep his face completely neutral. “I'm sure the Minister will want to speak with you regarding his son before term starts Headmistress.”

McGonagall gave the Head Auror a quizzical look but simply let it go for now. She presumed she would find out what his cryptic statement meant in due time.

Zalina Star felt a knot tighten in her stomach for a moment. Her entire plan rested on the fact she was 99 per-cent sure Harry Potter would be returning to Hogwarts to complete his final year. It was preposterous to think otherwise?

…But if he chooses not to return where would he go - what would he do? After all it was the whole reason I took this ridiculous position. It certainly wasn't because I want to teach these annoying, empty-headed sots the finer points of Transfiguration! Baah!

She could feel her annoyance spike but she forced herself to keep it from reaching her face. She was lost in her own musings for a moment shutting out everything else going on around her.

She suddenly realized the meeting had been adjourned and the new D.A.D.A. professor was speaking to her.

“…think it's marvelous we get an opportunity to shape the minds of our youngsters!” Professor Dervish gushed with a beaming smile at her.

“Oh, yes,” she stammered trying to appear as if she had been listening, “I personally can't wait for the term to begin. If you'll excuse me Professor I have much work to do before I will be prepared for the start of coming school year.”

“Of course my dear Professor Star,” Professor Dervish bowed to her and gestured with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, “If I can be of any assistance please don't hesitate to call on me at once!”

“Eeh…thank you Professor,” she said as innocently as she could muster in her agitated state of mind, “That's very kind of you.” She turned to Headmistress McGonagall, “Headmistress if there isn't anything further I would like to return to the Transfiguration department if I may?”

“Of course Professor Star,” McGonagall replied.

Zalina wasted no time in vacating the Great Hall. She had much to contemplate.

The rest of the staff stood conversing quietly among themselves. Many congratulated Professor Flitwick and Hagrid on their new appointments. Hagrid in particular was practically beaming with pride he was given such an important position but expressed his nervousness about being the Head of Gryffindor to anyone that would listen.

A few moments later they all heard one of the huge doors to the Great Hall open and watched as Mr. Filch made his way swiftly but stiffly toward them with Mrs. Norris close at his heels. He limped up to the Headmistress and bowed slightly, wheezing like a tea kettle about to boil.

“Begin yer' pardon Headmistress but the Minister of Magic as' me ter' announce `es presence and requested an interview with ya' in yer' office a' yer' earliest convenience. Said it was important.”

“Very well,” McGonagall replied immediately, “I believe I am free to meet the Minister right away.”

Filch stood there unmoving as if he was unsure what to do next. McGonagall stared incredulously at the old caretaker for a moment.

“That means you can tell him he may meet me in my office,” she paused. Filch still stood there with a blank look on his gnarled features, “Now, Mr. Filch!” She pressed.

Filch jumped slightly as if someone had touched a flame to the bottom of his trousers.

“Righ'” He finally turned and hobbled back toward the entrance.

McGonagall chuckled and shook her head. Kingsley wasn't quite so subtle. His wide shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

“I swear,” the head Auror said finally, “That old codger get stranger every year.”

“Yes…well,” McGonagall gave him a pointed glance with a rather crooked smirk, “You'd be a bit odd too if you had to put up with the goings-on in this place for as long as he has Mr. Shacklebolt.”

Kingsley nodded, “You're probably right on that score Minerva.”

Later, the Headmistress found herself sitting behind her desk waiting patiently for the Minister to arrive. When she heard the rotating staircase outside her office she moved to the office door and ushered a rather flustered-looking Arthur Weasley into the office.

Once informal greeting with the portraits of the past Heads as well as a beaming Albus Dumbledore were concluded McGonagall conjured a pot of tea and pressed a cup into Arthur's hand.

He sat in one of the chairs in front of the Headmistresses desk and suddenly looked like a scolded school boy. She would have laughed at this picture had it not been for the urgency in Arthur's request for an interview.

McGonagall sat back down at her desk and quietly waited. Even though she and Arthur had known one-another for decades, he was Minister for Magic now and his office and title demanded a certain level of respect, however she had always respected Arthur without the title.

The Headmistress noticed his hands were shaking slightly as he set his untouched teacup and saucer on the edge of her desk.

He began to speak…

“I may as well be candid with you Minerva. There is no reason to beat about the bush, as the Muggles say.” Arthur managed a weak smile.

McGonagall smiled warmly back. This seemed to help with his nerves somewhat. He took a deep, calming breath.

“The Ministry Finance Department and I have repeatedly gone over the books of the past thee administrations and have determined that by the end of this year the Ministry will be utterly bankrupt.”

McGonagall's face turned sheet white as she sat frozen in place.

“Oh Arthur,” she whispered, “what a horrible prospect!”

“Yes,” Arthur replied, “I'm sure you can ascertain the ramifications of this predicament. If the Ministry can not raise the funds to balance its budget by the end of November then I'm afraid Hogwarts will become one of the many casualties of the shortfall.”

“It seems during the occupation of the Ministry by the Death Eaters during the war, many important documents were liberated from the Minister's office. That includes over five hundred million galleons in Wizard bonds.”

“The Ministry uses the bonds to procure funds from our general accounts to pay bills, write purchase orders, pay salaries and balance the general budget ledger. While those bonds are unaccounted for, the Ministry assets are frozen by law to protect the assets against procurement from outside sources.”

McGonagall sat thoughtful for a moment.

“Can't the Ministry borrow against those frozen assets to at least maintain its operational status? I thought in times of emergency the Wizengamot allowed for just such a measure?”

“You're correct of course Minerva and I suppose we could borrow. The main problem there is we will only receive approximately eight to ten sickles on the galleon due to the interest rate applied to such a loan. I have already met with Geldron the Wise who is now in charge of Gringotts and he is `by the book' steadfast in his application of the by laws, I'm afraid.”

“Seems there was a major shake-up in management after Harry's little stunt to gain access to the Black family vault. The goblins are quite distrustful of the wizard community at present. I was fortunate enough to even get an interview. If it wasn't for Bill, I don't think I would have been granted the time of day.”

McGonagall felt as ill as she began to look. She couldn't believe what she was hearing but she wasn't all that surprised. Similar things happened the last time Voldemort tried to usurp power over the wizard world although not to quite such an extent.

It angered her to no end he still seemed to be affecting their lives even though he was destroyed. She stood up and paced the office, wringing her hands in worry.

“Surly there is something we can do Arthur, some way out of this dilemma?”

“Oh I assure you Minerva,” Arthur stated, “it gets worse.”

The aged Headmistress stopped pacing and looked pointedly at the Minister.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems the Muggle Prime Minister is…how can I put this kindly…requesting Ministry financial assistance in the repairs of not only the bridge that was destroyed but also many other structures damaged or destroyed during the past year. Not only that, the Prime Minister assured me any civil liability arising from the private sector having to do with those mysterious disappearances of Muggles would be deferred to us as well.”

“What an absolute mess you've inherited Arthur,” McGonagall looked deflated. She sat heavily back down in her chair.

“While I can't disagree with your most colorful assessment of my present administration, Minerva, it will not due for us to loose precious sleep over all this. The picture is not as bleak as it seems. There may be a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.”

“We have managed to seize many of the accounts of the known Death Eaters involved as law allows. We will use those funds to cover as much of the damage to the Muggle world as is possible but I'm afraid it will only scratch the surface. We will still find ourselves on the negative side of the ledger.”

“Do you have any clues to the whereabouts of the missing Bonds?” McGonagall asked, “I realize it is most likely a ridiculous question but I'm afraid I have no other ideas. While I cannot speak for my staff, I can tell you with the utmost certainty I will do what ever I can to assist you.”

“Thank you Minerva and no, we have no leads as to the location of our missing funds, however, after much research we believe Voldemort possessed a rather vast fortune in addition to any assets he may have…acquired along the way. He was, after all a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin.”

“It is safe to assume the Hogwarts Co-Founder was well subsidized. However, Ministry records are a bit confusing when we searched through the history of disbursements of funds from the Slytherin trust.”

“It seems there was a Marvolo Gaunt listed as an heir and was entitled to an enormous disbursement but those funds were never claimed.”

“There was another name on the ledger as well as Tom Riddle. It was the name Ella Dora Black. We thought that quite odd. A vast portion was claimed by her over one hundred years ago but she is now listed as deceased, of course.”

“Not only that, Voldemort was also heir to the Riddle fortune as well.”

“We have been able to unearth the Muggle financial records of his late father's assets and holdings and have discovered Tom Riddle Sr. and his Grandparents were quite financially well off. It seems upon his family's death, Voldemort quickly liquidated many of their investments and converted the cash into galleons.”

“We have been able to trace the funds to an account we believe is the correct one in a financial institution in Albania. However, the name on the account isn't Tom Riddle but again, Ella Dora Black. We find this most odd because the name on the account was said to have been changed only 18 years ago.”

“That would have been about the time Voldemort went into hiding after he killed James and Lily and tried to kill Harry. What's even stranger still is…her name was placed on the account more than seventy years after her death.”

“We cannot understand why her name was used as sole holder of the account. Since she is listed as deceased, we are having a most difficult time convincing the institution to release the funds since it can no longer be traced, at least in recent records, directly to Tom Riddle or Voldemort.”

“If that wasn't enough, it seems there was an enormous insurance settlement paid to Tom Riddle Jr. after his father and Grandparent's…unusual demise. Since the officials listed their deaths to be of natural causes, the insurance company was obligated to settle the claim.”

“While we have no hard figures at present, we are estimating the settlements were in the millions of pounds, Muggle. We're almost certain Voldemort converted those funds into galleons as well.”

“My stars,” McGonagall placed her hands over her heart.

“Well put Headmistress,” Arthur said, “So you see, we are sitting on what could potentially be a rather substantial windfall if we can only convince the Albanians we have a legal right to the account. It would certainly solve many of our financial woes but at present, we cannot assume those funds are forthcoming so I am forced to prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst is reducing expenditures, reducing staff and unfortunately eliminating certain programs from our budget. I only just managed to get approval from the Wizengamot to allow the Law Enforcement department to expand to a few select satellite locations before we had all the hard figures in place. I realize that was more than likely putting the proverbial cart before the horse so to speak but I felt it necessary to bring about some sense of security to Wizard London.”

McGonagall sat up a bit straighter.

“I realize you are trying your best Arthur,” she said with as much compassion as she could, “Surely no one blames you for the predicaments we find ourselves in at present. As I said, I will do what I can to assist.”

The Minister looked a bit sheepish for a moment then took a sip of his tea. Wincing at the now-cold brew, he pulled his wand and waved it over the cup until steam curled from its surface once more. He then turned to face the Headmistress.

“There is a…favor I wish to ask of you Minerva if I may? Something of a personal nature which has been made into an official one at the behest - or should I say insistence - of Molly. I find myself in a difficult position in regards to Ronald.”

McGonagall caught herself pursing her lips at the mention of the lad's name. His extra-curricular activities had not escaped the attention of the staff. Some of her professors had made comments. She herself had seen some of the more vitriolic statements in the Daily Prophet and was none too pleased but she tried to keep her thoughts on such things to herself.

“I realize I'm most likely being out of line when I say this Minister but I think Ronald needs good swift kick in the…”

“Yes!” Arthur interrupted, “I cannot disagree however I think Percy and I have a suitable alternative. I have, albeit reluctantly agreed to issue an official Decree that will require Ronald to return to Hogwarts to finish out his seventh year. He must pass his N.E.W.T.s with acceptable marks and will be confined to this institution until the term is completed.”

“I think it a brilliant idea Arthur,” McGonagall nodded in approval.

“I simply ask you keep me apprised of his progress and inform either myself or Percy if there are any…problems along the way.”

“Consider it done, of course,” McGonagall said with a warm smile, “I am certain we can convince Ronald of the importance in completing his education.”

“Excellent Minerva,” Arthur slapped his thighs as he stood to take his leave, “Thank you for your patience and assistance. I believe Ronald has…seen the error of his ways. He's not a bad young man you understand.”

“Of course he isn't,” McGonagall said incredulously, “Even the best of us can go astray now and again…isn't that right Albus?”

McGonagall turned to face Dumbledore's portrait as he sat feigning sleep in his chair. The only sign he had heard the conversation was a slight curling at the corner of his wizened old mouth.

-->

20. 20 - Holiday (Part 1)

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twenty - Holiday (Part 1)

Hermione took several deep breaths as she settled back in the comfortable seat of the Air Tahiti Nui AirBus A340 as it was finally taxiing down the runway at the Paris-Charles De Gaulle Airport. The connecting flight from London Heathrow was a mad rush from one check point to another until they were safely aboard the plane. With a little help from some mild and subversive wand-less magic negotiating security had been almost effortless.

He wisely followed Hermione's lead as they navigated the intricacies of modern mechanized flight. He seemed to be in a constant state of surprise and a bit of detached amazement.

Hermione, however, seemed to be completely at ease, almost like she was in her element, being the one in control and Harry was quite content with that. Her prior statement saying she needed a break from magic not withstanding, her decision to shrink most all their luggage into two backpack sized carry-on bags was, as it turned out, a brilliant idea and made moving through the crowded airports much easier.

It was then she finally reluctantly agreed, regardless of her present emotional disposition on magic, it was indispensable in making their lives in the Muggle world much easier. Harry had done nothing more than offer her a knowing and rather smug grin.

Hermione had also pressed her marvelous little beaded bag back into service in which they put items they might need to get at quickly - like their wands.

She had read somewhere once many airlines had a terrible habit of loosing luggage and the more connecting flights the greater the possibility one had of reaching their destination with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and the items in their pockets.

Now sitting safely ensconced in their seats on the flight into the island of Bora Bora she felt herself relax for the first time that day.

Harry, on the connecting flight from Heathrow to Paris had gripped the arms of his seat with white-knuckled intensity for the entire flight. Hermione had told him constantly to relax but he did not relinquish his death grip until they had landed.

“You know, this is rather curious behavior from someone who can fly a broom at break-neck speeds doing all sorts of crazy stunts.” She had whispered.

“Yah…well,” Harry replied a bit stiffly, “I can't see the ground, makes me nervous.”

After, on the way to the Air Tahiti Nui departure terminal he had commented, “That wasn't so bad.” Hermione really wanted to smack him but was content to give him that look.

When they were finally aboard the final leg of their trip and settled down they both seemed to take very deep breaths and melt into their seats.

As Harry sat there he began fiddling with everything like an overly-curious child. He produced a set of ear buds and figuring out where to plug them in sat back and closed his eyes while listening to some soft music.

Hermione couldn't help but study him for a moment. She noticed the tenseness around his eyes and mouth seemed to ease.

As she turned to peer out the window she let her mind drift to the night before at her parent's place…

---@>---

She had sat cross-legged on her favorite comfy chair in her big sitting room perusing Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. She had already made her way through The Healer's Helpmate as Harry sat completely engrossed in the DVD she had put in for him.

Upon making her way back down the stairs after she had gone to her room to change her clothes and readied herself for bed, she heard the unmistakable theme music of a special disc set her mother had purchased for her on a lark not long after she had received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts.

She couldn't help but put her hand over her face and shake her head both embarrassed and bemused by the fact he would chose that particular DVD out of an entire library of films and serials.

When Hermione first received the disc she remembered being so excited, thinking it some form of multi-media introductory information about Hogwarts and/or the Wizarding World. After all, with a title like `BEWITCHED' one would think, having just been accepted to one of the most prestigious magical training institutions in the world, it seemed to make perfect sense.

Rushing to complete all her chores that day she then went to the kitchen, proceeded to make a plate of some of her favorite healthy snacks, (Celery slices with peanut butter on top, fresh baby carrots with ranch dressing to dip in, green seedless grapes and her very favorite of all and one guilty extravagance - chocolate covered raisins!)

She had also retrieved her brand new copy of `Hogwarts- A History', a note pad and pencil just in case she needed to make notes.

She placed the disc carefully, almost reverently on the tray and pushed the button on the DVD player. Dashing back to the sofa and sitting ready with pencil poised quivering over her notepad the adventure began.

Less than 30 minutes later Hermione found herself storming up to her room in a towering temper.

The film hadn't been about Hogwarts or Wizards or magic at all for that matter!

It was, her mother later explained between fits of raucous laughter, nothing more than a ridiculous Serial that was made in the United States when her mother was a girl. The little she had managed to sit through had a rather attractive woman named Samantha, about her mother's age, doing ridiculously impossible things just by twitching her nose…TWITCHING-HER-NOSE!

Hermione had remembered feeling so incensed and hurt. She felt her parents were poking fun at her for being different. It wasn't until her mother explained it had just been in fun she had stopped crying.

Even though it was a rather unpleasant memory she couldn't help but smile remembering, especially now with her mother and father in such dire circumstances.

She had swept into the sitting room in her usual bossy fashion and snatched the remote from Harry's hands as the credits were rolling before the first episode began. She quickly hit the `stop' button.

Harry just looked up at her a bit surprised.

“I'm sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly, “I didn't think you would mind…”

“Of course I don't mind Harry,” Hermione said smiling, “It's just…that particular disc is probably not what you expect.”

She then proceeded to tell him an abridged version of the story. He laughed and nodded.

“You're absolutely right. That is ridiculous…ha…twitching her nose…Stupid!”

When she went to the entertainment center she scanned the titles on the shelves until her eyes landed on what she thought would be a perfect film for him to watch…Pirates of the Caribbean. It even fit with the theme of their pending adventure…sort-of.

Holding the DVD case in her hands, it suddenly sparked an even deeper and darker memory from her past…

---@>---

She had asked her father if she could get that particular movie after it had been released. It was when she had a rather serious girl crush on one Orlando Bloom.

Strangely enough she had first seen the actor in the film Lord of the Rings. She had seen him one evening when her parents had the movie on. Hermione wasn't really watching it, she just happened to be in the room at the moment his particular character was on the screen.

She had thought the character of Legolas (although she didn't hear his name the moment she had spied him) the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on and found herself becoming unwittingly drawn into the film for a while until she recognized some of the character's names. Gorgeous or not, she had no affinity to sit there and watch anything associated with The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings.

Hermione Granger had a deep seated dislike for all things J.R.R. Tolkien.

It had all started when she was in 5th grade. Nearing the end of that school term her father had become engrossed in the Tolkien novels and in his spare time read them incessantly.

Hermione - being Hermione - really had no attraction to fiction unless it was of the `historically accurate' variety but as she watched her father become completely immersed in the tomes she became curious.

One evening she got the courage to ask her father what the books were about and his response was to hand her his copy of The Hobbit.

“Just read it sweetheart,” he had said with a beaming smile, “I promise you'll enjoy it very much.”

And that's precisely what she did.

She too became completely lost in the tales of Bilbo Baggins and his adventures. The thing that impressed her most was how the author had created his own languages, alphabets and symbols to describe Middle Earth and all its inhabitants. She thought it remarkable and clever and spent some of her free time trying to teach herself how to speak and write Elvish.

It was silly and frivolous but to her it had been fun.

Not long after she had read the books her teacher had set before them a simple essay. `Write about an interest' was the assignment. No specifics were given, just be clear, precise in your description, spelling, grammar and construction counts, of course.

As a result of her recent interest in the Tolkien books Hermione had decided to write about languages, specifically written languages, a historical look at writing itself, the significance of certain ancient alphabetical and graphical systems and the influence they had on those that followed.

She had spent days doing intensive research in the library both at school and the public. She enlisted her mother's help to track down some very archaic texts from near-by Oxford. She had gone with her mother and even managed to obtain an interview with a Professor of Ancient Languages. The crusty old bookworm had found little Hermione Granger delightful, curious, inquisitive and thoroughly engaging (her mother had told her later).

In the end Hermione had constructed a masterful and complete work on a historical glimpse of the written language - nineteen pages of text complete with preface, index, references and even a bibliography.

She remembered being so proud of her work. Her mother and father had praised her paper saying it was well written, concise and well constructed. She remembered she couldn't wait to get to class that day to hand her paper in.

Even at ten years old Hermione Jean Granger's essay would have been more than acceptable in any entry-level college course.

In her 5th grade Grammar School class, however…

She remembered it all very distinctly. Her paper was handed in on a Thursday, by the following Monday she was sitting in the Head Master's office with her mother and father having a `discussion' about what they described as Hermione's rather odd and often eccentric behavior.

“This is not the first time something of this nature has occurred, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” and “We are a bit concerned Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” and “Perhaps Hermione would be better suited…” and on and on it went.

Her father had been completely bewildered while her mother completely incensed by the whole ridiculous interview. Hermione remembered feeling completely embarrassed. How could someone's best be considered so…so inadequate or inappropriate?

To Hermione, it merely drove home the undeniable fact that she was different. That realization had been a constant albatross since the day she began to read, write and attend school. She had never fit in…and was convinced she never would. She would always be `that queer girl” or “teacher's pet!”

It had utterly crushed her and she had shut herself in her room refusing to go to school. In the end she had gone back. She had decided to finish and in the process decided she would not let a bunch of pencil-pushing public education system bureaucrats dictate to her how she would learn. The lingering effects, however, would be to wall herself and her emotions off from those who could hurt her. It had become a habit.

She remembered her mother and father having long and involved discussions behind closed doors about their `unique' little Hermione. Thankfully it wasn't much later that her Hogwarts letter arrived and after a subsequent interview with then Professor and Assistant Headmistress Minerva McGonagall things about their little girl seemed to become much clearer to her parents.

She had later rationalized (once she was a bit older) that `setting the curve' in school is one thing, making it completely unobtainable by not only her class but the rest of the entire school system was something else altogether. She supposed it made their curriculum look bad but as she was packing her trunk for Hogwarts she realized she no longer cared.

---@>---

When she found her books shed no light on her parent's dilemma she irritably tossed them on the small table next to the chair and let her mind drift.

She and Harry had spoken little after returning to her parent's house from their visit with Andromeda and Teddy. They were both lost in their own thoughts.

Harry contemplated the idea of resurrecting the old Wright house in Godric's Hollow and eventually establishing a home there. Hermione seemed to be preoccupied with everything else.

She found herself going back over the night she met with then Professor McGonagall to propose her idea of protecting her parent's lives by moving them far from London.

She remembered the conversations, the advice against such a risky operation and her subsequent stubborn refusal to listen. Once again regret washed over her as she sat there looking at Harry who was completely oblivious, lost in the world of movie make-believe.

She had kept them out, he and Ron. She was afraid to tell anyone details of her plans, especially Harry with his unintended mental connection to Voldemort. She had mentioned it to them that night in Ron's room at the Burrow before Fleur's wedding and it occurred to her afterward she probably shouldn't have but thankfully her error in judgment had not done any irreparable damage to her plans.

So many secrets…

She felt weary as she thought of all the things she had done neither Harry nor Ron knew about. She let her memories drift away again…

---@>---

There was the time turner, for one. That had been a huge blunder. Trying to shift time to acquire more knowledge was just a disaster waiting to happen. If it had not been for all the extra-curricular activities going on at the time maybe it would have worked out better but…

…Was all that really necessary?

She knew if she had not had the time turner saving Sirius and Buckbeak would have been impossible but she also realized it made little difference for Sirius in the end. That realization made her sad even now and the thought of how utterly dangerous and stupid meddling with time was left her feeling foolish. How McGonagall had even trusted her with such a thing still astounded her.

Then there was, of course, her secret ability to practice under-aged magic outside Hogwarts. She had used it to get a leg up before starting the Wizard school. The thought of confronting the famous Harry Potter and those who had grown up in the wizard world drove her to seek the required knowledge she thought was necessary to compete and the thought of being shown up by those who considered themselves pure bloods left a horrid taste in her mouth.

It didn't take long for her to realize how utterly ridiculous her rationality was. She quickly found out Harry was just as lost and confused as every other Muggle-born and breeding had little to do with one's ability to perform competent magic. It wasn't long after, much to her dismay, she discovered it wasn't all about learning and knowledge either. Some magical ability was instinctive and some imbued in others by unintentional consequences.

Books and cleverness, indeed!

Hermione tossed Harry a clandestine look and couldn't help but smile as he sat watching the pirate movie completely oblivious to her musings. He was completely engrossed and utterly mesmerized.

She remembered how she was given unrestricted access to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library in her second year. Madam Pince had not been happy about that. She felt it was a desecration of the sanctity of her library allowing any student unfettered access but since the order came from Dumbledore himself she was forced to oblige…not that it had helped all that much in the end.

Then there were her own secret meetings with the Headmaster. He had summoned her many times during their years at Hogwarts with strict instructions not to mention them to anyone…not even her boys. He had enlightened her about many things that had to do with Voldemort and Harry. It was how she came to know about the books Dumbledore had removed from the Restricted Section even though she had played it off to Harry and Ron later.

Much of it she had surmised on her own but he had given her many details to fill in the blanks of not only her own theory but his as well. It was he who had impressed upon her the importance to assist Harry in his quest. She had quite happily told the Headmaster she had every intention of doing so anyway. She remembered his beaming smile in response to her rather cheeky retort. After Dumbledore became ill after wearing the Gaunt ring he was most adamant about her roll in what was to come.

At first she refused to accept it but as the words of Trelawney's prophecy began to fulfill themselves she realized his advice could not be ignored. She was still a bit aggravated Dumbledore had not confided in her about the Hallows or the Horcruxes. It would have been much simpler for her to understand when the time came and she wouldn't have been so resistant to the idea…but she also now understood why he didn't. It would have tainted their quest and the necessary destruction of those vile pieces of Voldemort's soul.

She was also a little miffed he had not told her about his theory Harry's scar was also an unintended Horcrux but then again, Dumbledore was wise enough to realize she would not have let him face Voldemort alone to do what needed to be done, no matter how necessary it seemed at the time.

There were the secret potion treatments she had to endure at the hands of Professor Snape after she had been hit with Dolohov's curse the night they went to the Department of Mysteries to supposedly save Sirius. Madam Pomfrey was at a loss. It had left no mark on the outside but at times Hermione's insides felt as if they were boiling. They never determined precisely what the curse was but the residual effects caused her excruciating pain for months after.

It was Professor McGonagall who had approached the Headmaster to enlist Professor Snape to find an answer. Hermione absolutely did not want Severus Snape poking and prodding on her for answers but she reluctantly agreed when the pain became so acute she would have done just about anything to make it stop. In the end Snape had found the nature of the curse and cured it with a month-long regiment of potions and meditative healing techniques. He had refused to divulge the nature of the curse only because she had asked him. It had angered her greatly but in the end, she had to reluctantly admit he had probably saved her life, although it hadn't been something either one of them enjoyed.

The result, however, had been utterly devastating. It was during a post-treatment examination she had been informed by Snape that, as a result of the damage done by the curse and an unforeseen side effect of the cure she would most likely be unable to bear children. In fact, he had given her a less than twenty per-cent chance of ever successfully carrying a child to term. It wasn't so much the damage as it was the extensive scarring to some of her reproductive organs.

He had been cold and utterly unfeeling in his pronouncement. It was as if he were telling her she had received an `Exceeds Exceptional' instead of an `Outstanding' on a Potions essay. When Hermione broke down in front of him Professor Snape became angry.

“Please do keep in mind Ms. Granger, you - are - alive!” he spit hatefully, “I realize this may be little consolation to one with your…obsequiously illuminated mind but let us look on the bright side shall we? You'll be forever more a truly unique insufferable little know-it-all!”

Severus Snape had loathed weakness and self-pity about as much as he had hated the Marauders.

Throughout her young life Hermione had prided herself on being impartial and as unprejudiced as she could possibly be but after that day she realized she hated Severus Snape more than any other creature on the earth. Even after all had been revealed about his motives for allying himself with Albus Dumbledore her opinion of the man changed little. He was still the vilest most despicable man to ever have drawn a breath as far as she was concerned and even death could not assuage her hatred of him.

It was one of the main reasons Hermione had seemed so distant to her boys in their 6th year. Trying to come to terms with it all had occupied most of her strength. It hadn't helped Ron seemed to be determined to swallow Lav Lav's head every fifteen minutes.

Now, after all had been said and done she found herself sitting across from a young man who meant more to her then anyone with the exception of her parents. Even she and her parents had been drifting slowly apart as she finally admitted to McGonagall in Australia.

She marveled at how they had arrived at this very moment. Both their lives had taken so many strange twists and turns to end up at what Hermione finally realized as the truth…the real truth but the guilt for keeping him at arm's length for all those years settled on her like a sack of wet sand.

He and I were made for one-another. How could it be any other way?

---@>---

The jet hit some turbulence and jolted both of them out of their introspections.

“Wha' was that,” Harry asked lurching upright gripping the armrests again. Hermione chucked and patted his hand.

“It's perfectly fine Harry, just a bit of a rough patch.”

“Oh…rough patch, yah…ok.” He settled back in his seat but was still a bit tense.

It was remarkable to her that he grew up in the Muggle world just as she had but it was as if he's had little to no experience with it.

“You know, Harry you sometimes act like you've never been in the Muggle world before at all.”

He cast her a rather strange look as he pulled the ear buds from his ears.

“I might have grown up in this world Hermione but it's not like I ever really went anywhere or did all that much. I was too busy playing resident slave and house elf to the Dursleys.”

“They let you watch the telly didn't they?”

“Yah,” Harry said, “sometimes but it was always whatever Diddykins wanted to watch. Merlin forbid if I ever got my hand on the remote. I would have been scrubbing toilets for weeks.”

The back of Hermione's neck suddenly felt hot. She couldn't believe how he had been treated by his own supposed family. It was utterly despicable.

“That explains a lot.” She whispered.

“Yah,” Harry said, “but I can tell you in detail what the underside of a staircase looks like. I know that part well.”

Hermione's eyes began to swim.

“Look Hermione,” Harry shifted in his seat, “I really don't want to think about that anymore. That time is behind me now. The Dursleys are gone and I don't ever have to see them again.” He smiled at her despite the dark thoughts swirling in the back of his mind. “I'm on holiday going to a little brown speck in the middle of the ocean with the most important person in my life. As far as I'm concerned nothing else matters at this moment. Get what I'm saying?”

She nodded. She dare not speak because her bottom lip was beginning to quiver.

“I want you to make me a promise right now Granger,” Harry looked at her seriously.

He rarely ever called her by her sir-name. She looked deeply into his beautiful green eyes. She nodded.

“I want you to promise me you're going to have fun. That's what we're doing this for, to let go and have fun. No moping about wondering, worrying or thinking about this or that. You need to clear your mind and relax, yes?”

Again she nodded.

“Do I have your word?” He cracked a grin.

This time Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked.

“Do I have to take an oath in blood or something?” she asked with a smile.

Harry stroked his chin for a moment looking thoughtful and she swatted at him.

“Tosspot,” she mumbled, “Yes, Harry I promise to have fun. I promise to have the time of my life! Is that acceptable?”

“I suppose it'll do for starters,” Harry grinned, “So tell me about this place we're staying?”

Hermione brightened instantly. She reached in to fish several travel brochures out of her beaded bag. While she was rooting around looking for the ones she wanted her hand fell across a book. When she pulled it out she read the title then cast Harry a dour sideways glare.

“Oh Harry,” she grumbled, “You must be joking!”

She was holding a pristine, hard bound copy of The Demise of Darkness - The Final Days of Lord Voldemort.

She instantly noticed Ron's name had been misspelled.

Hermione burst out laughing and had to cover her mouth when nearby passengers turned to stare.

Harry snatched the book from Hermione's hand and laid it in his lap.

“You know,” he said, “It's really not half bad. At least they get most of the facts right and I have to admit the way its written is well…rather interesting.”

Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. She refused to accept anything that came from a self-serving, dishonest, loose-lipped gossip and a thick-as-mud, whiskey-addled, hormonal teenager could be worth the paper it was printed on but she begrudgingly realized if it got Harry to read it might not be a complete waste of material.

At least the rubbish can be recycled!

As she watched he opened the cover. She could see writing on the inside.

“Oh Harry,” she cackled, “Don't tell me he autographed it! When did you get that?”

He told her Ron had left it for him the night he came to Grimmuald Place with that girl. Hermione forced herself not to think about that night.

He showed her the inscription. It read…

To my best mate Harry Potter. Without whom this book could not have been possible.

Ronald B. Weasley

The penmanship looked as if a third grader had written it but Hermione kept that comment to herself. At the very least Ron seemed to recognize the importance of Harry's contribution to his success so she rationalized it had to count for something.

“So show me this place already,” Harry asked blushing slightly trying to change the subject.

They spent most of the rest of the flight talking about Tahiti. Hermione gave him a brief (at least brief for Hermione) history of the Polynesian Islands. The fact their language was French concerned Harry a bit.

“Don't worry,” Hermione told him, “Most all the residents speak English. They get a lot of tourists from the United States and besides…I can speak French fairly well.”

It was almost dawn the following morning by the time they reached the small airport in Bora Bora due to flying almost half way around the globe but even at the early morning hour the place was alive with people and activity.

Hermione informed him they could get to the island of Tahiti in one of three ways, (well, four if you count apparating and five if you count swimming but neither option very appealing), they could either take a smaller plane or ride on a water taxi that jumped from island to island or they could charter a boat to take them directly to Tahiti.

When Hermione asked Harry which he preferred he told her he didn't care but he was a bit tired of riding on airplanes for a while. They eventually decided on the water taxi when they found out how much a charter boat cost. Harry was more than willing but Hermione's frugal nature and common sense prevailed in the end. It would take longer for them to get there but they would have a chance to see so much more on the taxi.

After boarding the next available water taxi they settled back onto a bench just outside the bridge house of a boat called The Galloping Guppy. They were remarking on the name with quiet snickers when a tall dark man in a captain's hat turned the corner. He apparently heard their comments.

He looked down at them, hands on hip and a rather knowing grin on his face.

“Does de name of dis boat amuse you?” He asked in a good-natured way, his broad white smile never leaving his face. His voice was heavily accented in an unknown dialect.

Harry and Hermione both began to back peddle quickly but the man just held up his hand chuckling.

“I realize da name is a beet strange but eet was geeven to me by my then four year old daughter when I brought she and my wife to look at de craft after I had first purchased her from a feesherman in New Guinea. She say `Papa, de boat looks like a beeg fat guppy!'” He shrugged, “The name stuck!”

Harry and Hermione couldn't help but smile and laugh at the story.

The Captain chatted them up for a bit. He informed them his route took them first to the island of Morea, then to a few of the smaller islands in the chain, then onto Tahiti before turning and retracing their route back to Bora Bora. After that he made his way to the bridge wishing them a pleasant Holiday.

Harry and Hermione spent the trip from Bora Bora to Morea mostly in silence looking up at and endless sea of stars in the utter blackness of the night. There were very few lights on the boat because, (as a deck hand had mentioned in passing) many people liked to nap on the late night crossings. Harry and Hermione had slept a little on the flight so neither was tired. They were both excited and Harry seemed to fidget relentlessly.

Hermione had pointed out several constellations as well as the Milky Way as Harry sat listening in rapt fascination. He remembered many of them from Astronomy class but he was quite content to let Hermione be - well - Hermione.

He could tell she was becoming more and more her old self and it made him feel good. She was relaxed now, more so than he had seen her in the last several months.

Just as they were arriving in Morea the first tendrils of light could be seen on the eastern horizon. At first a deep bronze, then gold spreading like glittering diamonds across the surface of the rather calm ocean, then the deep blues of what appeared to be a pristine sky veiled the stars to announce the coming of a cloudless dawn.

They decided to explore the wharf area for the hour the Galloping Guppy remained at port in Morea. The Captain told them they could find a quaint little café not far from the boat that served some of the best Turkish coffee in the Polynesian Archipelagos. They sat sipping the robust brew as they watched the morning unfold in front of them. They had an unobstructed front row seat.

Harry commented on the way back to the boat he felt like the coffee had reached right out of his cup and slapped him across his face. Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud. Before she realized it they were holding hands as they made their way slowly and lazily back to the Guppy. They perused the little shops along the way not really stopping to look at anything in particular, just a leisurely stroll.

For the first time in months she found herself thinking of nothing, merely taking in everything around her and letting the sights and sounds and smells of the island permeate her entire being. It was absolutely cathartic.

Harry seemed quite pensive as he, too took everything in. The only thought that permeated his mind was the realization he should have done something like this a long time ago but things were quite different back then. He hastily shoved any thoughts of the past aside.

They decided to remain on the boat at the rest of the Guppy's stops and it was early afternoon by the time they reached the island of Tahiti.

As they approached from the north-west they could see the towering cone of Mount Orohena. Hermione could sense Harry's growing excitement.

After the boat turned a densely forested corner of land they entered into what appeared to be a shallow bay. To Harry it was a lot like some of the places he had seen in the pirate movie. The smile that spread across his face and the absolute delight in his sparkling green eyes made Hermione laugh. Harry glanced at her.

“It's brilliant Hermione,” Harry laughed taking in the thatched huts that seem to come right out over the water into the bay. Brightly colored triangular shapes skimmed across the smooth surface of the crystal clear turquoise-colored water in every direction stood out like beacons against the back drop of the almost bright-white color of the sand. There were smaller boats and personal water craft zipping back and forth.

On the right side of the lagoon was the harbor with docks and landing areas. Hermione explained that massive cruise ships docked there and they would most likely see one or two while they were there.

Harry took it all in. He let his imagination soar as the taxi eased its way into the harbor zone.

“Do you think there are any pirates here Hermione?” Almost at once he realized what a stupid and childish question it was but he was letting his excitement get the better of him.

Hermione was about to offer a snarky response when one of the deck hands came up behind them grinning.

“They say dis place was once a pirate haven back in de day,” the deck hand said, “Eet is said there is still pirate treasure buried on some of de islands in dis Archipelago.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Please don't tell him that or we'll be spending the next two weeks looking for buried treasure!”

The deck hand laughed loudly. Harry just blushed but grinned himself.

“I think it would have been brilliant to be a pirate like Captain Jack Sparrow!” He said laughing.

Hermione gave him a rather strange look but then laughed.

“I don't know Potter,” she quipped, “For some reason I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of you…swashbuckling!”

They both burst out laughing.

After leaving the Galloping Guppy at the harbor with cheerful farewells to the captain and crew they made their way to one of the ground transportation locations and took a rather modern looking shuttle to the front entrance of the Tahiti Intercontinental Resort.

Coming up the circular drive they could see the place was beautiful. All color of flowers lined the entryway.

Several men dressed in what appeared to be red suits with dark blue trousers with red stripes down the sides of the legs came spilling out of the entrance and immediately began taking bags and ushering the guests up the few steps into the grand and very formal-looking reception area.

A very tall, thin man with a long nose, heavily lidded eyes, long graying hair slicked back over a high forehead, dressed in an impeccable black formal tuxedo complete with tails made his way from guest to guest shaking hands, bowing stiffly and welcoming them all to the resort. When he had finally made his way around to Harry and Hermione they got the instant impression they were being sized up, appraised and inspected all at the same time.

From the man's expression and demeanor Hermione caught the unmistakable air of questioning suspicion as he peered down his long nose at them. He stood stiffly, head thrown back almost leering down at them.

“I am Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque,” he said in a clipped and formal heavy French accent, “I am Concierge here at The Intercontinental, a…pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The pause was not lost on Hermione. She instantly did not like this man. Her first impression was that he was arrogant and snooty.

“You will be staying with us for two weeks I believe Monsieur Potter, Mademoiselle Granger?”

The fact he knew their names shocked Hermione almost speechless. She nodded but Harry wasn't so subtle.

“How did you know…” Harry began to ask but the Concierge cut him off with a wave of his thin spindly looking hand as if his knowledge should have been obvious.

“It is my duty to know who is staying at my resort Monsieur,” he was regarding Harry as if he were a particularly nasty stain on one of the lobby's expensive Persian carpets.

His manner was grating on Hermione's sensibilities when he turned toward her and pinned her with a long and rather peculiar stare. She was instantly becoming uncomfortable under his obvious scrutiny and she was about to comment when he spoke.

“If I may be so bold as to enquire, Madmioselle,” he asked haughtily, “I noticed you are from London, oui? Are you any relation to a Daphne and Edward Granger?”

His question stunned Hermione like a cold slap across the face. She knew she must be gaping at the man like a complete idiot so she quickly tried to get control of herself. She set her features to much the same as his before she replied.

“I am?” she responded matter-of-factly, “They are my parents. Why do you ask? Do you know them?”

The Concierge's rather stiff and icy demeanor evaporated almost instantly. Instead his features took on what appeared to Hermione to be almost a whimsical look of fond memory.

“Indeed Madmioselle,” Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque replied with a tight smile, “You parents are well known to me and I remember them with great fondness. You mother…” the Concierge began but his voice trailed off for a moment as if lost in a pleasant memory. She thought she had caught an almost inaudible sigh come from the snooty man. With a slight shake of his head he seemed to snap out of it.

Harry cast Hermione a quizzical look but Hermione could only shrug in response looking a bit bewildered herself.

“Please allow me to explain,” Des Fortesque continued, eyes closed with a spidery finger upraised, “I came to know your mother and father upon one of their many visits to our humble resort. I'm sure you are aware Madmioselle this was their favorite vacation destination I believe.”

Hermione nodded. She couldn't seem to find anything to say.

“As I recall you accompanied your parents here several years before, no?” He asked, smiling rather genuinely now.

“Yes,” Hermione said slowly, “When I was eight years old.”

“Ah yes, of course,” the concierge said, “I knew I recognized you. You have become, if I may speak freely Madmioselle, as lovely as your wonderful mother.”

Hermione couldn't help but blush a deep crimson.

“It was a most unusual circumstance that brought your parents and myself together on a previous occasion. They hand mentioned to me once they were both practicing dentists. It was this memory that caused me to call upon their services under rather dire circumstances.”

“There was a very important person staying wiz us at the time. He was the Puja of Nom-Gamier. He was…how can I say it politely…a most difficult guest to please. The Puja had a most peculiar affinity for pistachio nuts. He would consume several pounds of them a day.”

“One evening the Puja's personal assistant rang the front desk in a terrible panic. Apparently the Puja had broken a tooth on his pistachio nuts and requested we do something to ease his pain immediately. He was most insistent. I then remembered your parents were dentists and…voila, they were most gracious in assisting the Puja and pulled the offending molar most expeditiously.”

“Your parents not only helped me personally but they helped save the reputation of our establishment. The Puja was most pleased and vowed to make the Intercontinental his favorite vacation destination. He has returned every year since.”

“Erm…Well,” Hermione replied still a bit stunned by the strange man's revelations but he seemed to have changed his opinion of the two young people standing before him, “I'm very please my parents could help. They both have a very charitable nature…”

“Indeed!” Des Fortesque bowed slightly, “I hope they are well. I'm sorry they were unable to accompany you this time.”

Hermione's expression darkened at the thought of her parents and Harry picked up on her distress instantly. He jumped in to save her the pain of explaining. Thinking quickly he covered for her.

“Hermione's parents aren't doing so well right now. They were both involved in a serious accident that caused them both to be put in the hospital. They'll live but their condition is…delicate right now. It's hard for Hermione to talk about it.”

“There's nothing more that can be done for them at present so I suggested Hermione get away for a while. The stress, you see.”

Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque put his hand over his heart and closed his eyes.

“I understand completely,” the Concierge nodded to Harry, “Mademoiselle Granger, I am so sorry,” he whispered, “My heart goes out to you and I shall remember your mother and father in my thoughts.”

Hermione was touched by the sincerity in his declaration and she couldn't help but smile.

“Thank you Monsieur Des Fortesque. I will be sure to pass along your sympathies to them when I return to London.”

“Of course,” the Concierge clapped his hands twice in quick succession as his haughty manner resumed as if they had not had the previous conversation at all.

A skeletally thin man, about the same height as the Concierge with the same haughty expression appeared at the older man's shoulder at once as if appearing out of thin air.

“Oui Monsieur Des Fortesque?” The man asked bowing slightly.

The Concierge peered down at Harry and Hermione with the same snobbish expression he gave them when they first arrived. Harry began feeling a bit confused by it all.

“Trousseau, this lovely young lady and her gentleman escort are my personal guests,” the Concierge stressed the last two words with a pointed stare at his assistant, “They will be treated as such. Please place them on the fourth floor in the continental suite and make it your personal duty to see to it their stay is most pleasant. If they require it you shall make it so.”

Both Harry and Hermione gaped at the Concierge for a second before looking at one another.

“”Erm Monsieur,” Hermione said aghast, “That's really not…”

But Des Fortesque simply tut-tutted her. With a pinched smile and a wink he turned and made his way back to the reception desk leaving an attentive Trousseau in his wake.

The gentleman named Trousseau bowed slightly and bade them follow. He led them to the elevator and up they went until they came to the fourth floor. Following the assistant they were brought before a double door entrance with the doorknobs in the center of each door slab.

When Trousseau opened the doors Harry and Hermione's mouths dropped open in amazement. The suite was huge with a large sitting area complete with overstuffed couch, love seat and easy chair. A huge screen television was mounted to the wall on the right side. To the left was a small but modern looking kitchenette that was separated from the sitting room by a short bar.

To the far left were a huge bedroom with a monstrous king-sized bed, walk-in closet and an adjoining bath with a whirlpool tub you could swim in but the best part of the entire space was the balcony. It spanned the entire length of the suit with French doors that spanned the entire back wall. On the balcony were several loungers along with a glass topped table and comfortable looking wicker chairs. From the low rail you could see the entire bay.

Trousseau took a few moments to explain where everything was and even showed them the panel that operated the motor-driven blinds that would open and close to pre-set times to let in the morning sunlight or close to block the view.

“Why would anyone want to do that?” Harry had commented which made Hermione and Trousseau laugh. When he was done he bowed himself out of the room and left them alone.

Hermione was stunned at their good fortune.

“I never dreamed we'd be in a place like this Harry,” she beamed.

It made Harry's heart pinch for a moment. The look in her eyes brought back memories of when they were younger and both still so new to the world of magic. Everything seemed to be wondrous and exciting then, before all the darkness…

He forced those thoughts aside and they began un-shrinking all their things and with the help of that very same magic, they had all their things stowed away.

Hermione stood for a moment looking at the massive bed in the room. Harry came up beside her.

“Erm, I believe Trousseau said the sofa folds out into a bed. I don't mind…”

But before he could finish his statement Hermione looked up at him with an odd expression and cut him off.

“Don't be ridiculous Harry,” she motioned to the bed, “Look at the size of this thing. I think we could both sleep on it and never even see one-another for days!”

Harry laughed loudly at that. She swatted his arm playfully.

“So what do you want to do now?” Hermione asked.

Harry thought for a moment then replied in a matter-of-fact way.

“I think I would like to look around the resort for a bit, you know, find out where everything is and then I would really like to get something to eat. What about you?” He looked at Hermione with a grin.

“I think that's a lovely idea Mr. Potter,” Hermione beamed again, “Why didn't I think of that!” She giggled.

Hermione Granger just giggled! This is going to be more fun than I thought!

With that she told him she wanted to freshen up and change her clothes to something more tropical and bid Harry to do the same. She gave Harry the bathroom first because, as she said, girls tend to take longer than boys.

Harry didn't put up a fuss so when he was done Hermione disappeared into the cavernous bathroom while Harry dressed for the evening. He put on a light tan pair of linen slacks, a white button-up shirt left unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. He wore a white cotton tank under his shirt.

Instead of shoes he opted for a pair of brown leather sandals Hermione had told him were a must for beach life. Checking himself in the mirror he decided trying to do something with his hair was pointless but he looked and felt completely different than he ever had in his life. The clothes fit perfect and they felt good.

He moved out onto the balcony and looked out over the clear blue water and pristine white sand. The sun was falling low off to the left but was still high enough in the sky to see everything. Life teamed below him with people sun bathing on the beach, children swimming and splashing in the shallow water and subtle waves that washed up on shore. All manner of multi-colored sails carved across the surface of the calm surf out in the midst of the lagoon, lazily bobbing up and down as they passed.

This is paradise!

He couldn't suppress a smile as he took it all in. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back slightly for a moment to let it all soak into him like a sponge. He heard Hermione's voice behind him. When he turned he could scarcely believe what his eyes beheld…

Hermione was wearing a lovely white sleeveless sundress that went to her ankles. The top was like a spaghetti string tank but was lacy and frilly. She had done her long mane into an intricate French braid that fell to her lower back. On her feet were the same style sandals as Harry's (they had bought them at the same place at the same time - they were on sale!)

She looked lovely and radiant in the late afternoon light. She noticed Harry gaping at her as she fit one of her earrings in place.

“What?” Hermione asked grinning a little. Harry swallowed hard.

“You…you look…erm…wow Hermione,” He stammered.

She beamed again. Harry was really, really beginning to like Tahiti very much.

“You look pretty wow yourself Harry,” as she made her way out onto the balcony. Turning toward the bay her face lit up with that same look of wonder she had right after they entered the suite.

“Oh isn't it magnificent Harry,” she said breathlessly. Harry couldn't seem to drag his gaze away from her.

“It most certainly is Ms. Granger!” Harry replied.

When she glanced up at his face his look made her blushed profusely.

“Stop it,” she chided but only half-heartedly, swatting his arm gently, “You're making me self-conscious.”

Glancing up at him again she grinned and leaned against his shoulder.

“You know Harry, you should really consider getting that Muggle procedure that corrects your vision. Then you wouldn't have to wear your glasses any more. If you're thinking of joining Kingsley's special program it might be wise, don't you think. I mean, just one simple spell and any Death Eater worth their salt could render you potentially helpless…then where would you be?”

“True,” Harry responded considering her words, “but that's what Auror-grade sticking charms are for yes?” He smirked.

“It's just a thought,” Hermione sighed turning back to look out over the bay. She had unconsciously threaded her arms around his leaning against his body as she gazed out over the lovely view. When she realized what she was doing she disentangled herself form him with a bit of a jolt at her forwardness.

“Erm, sorry Harry didn't mean…”

Before she could finish her words Harry leaned toward her and captured her mouth with his. He had no idea what drove him to do it. The moment - her look - the place, but as his lips met hers Hermione practically melted into the kiss like butter on the hot stove.

Before either of them knew it their kiss turned into a heated exchange of barely restrained longing and desire for one-another. Hermione reached for him, pulling him closer as his arms encircled her body and pulled her in even tighter.

When they finally separated they were both gasping. Harry looked Hermione right in the eyes. Something was driving him forward. He wasn't sure what but it felt wonderful - she felt wonderful!

“Thank you for inviting me on Holiday with you. This is wonderful.” Harry whispered.

“We've only just arrived Harry,” Hermione whispered in return looking into his sparking green eyes, “but I'm glad you came with me.”

They kissed again, both of them getting lost in the warmth and familiarity of one-another. After a moment Hermione realized if they didn't stop things were going to get intense. She could feel Harry responding and it wasn't at all unpleasant.

She reluctantly pulled her lips from his.

“Erm, why don't we go exploring now Harry,” she offered him a rather coy smile.

He nodded grinning himself. He took her hand in his and they made their way down to the lower levels of the resort and began wandering all over the place. They found the indoor and outdoor pools, spas, steam rooms and a full weight training facility complete with personal trainer. They found a bar that was both inside the resort building and outside by the outdoor pool. One could actually swim right up to the bartender and get a drink.

The outdoor pool had a waterfall! Harry thought that was the coolest and told Hermione they would definitely investigate that closer soon. When they made it down to the beach they decided to take a walk there later, after they got something to eat, so they returned to the restaurant.

The dining room was formal and elegant as they found themselves seated at a cozy little table for two. Hermione had seafood while Harry decided to order one of the largest steaks they offered. After the drinks and salads arrived a waiter brought a bottle of a very expensive French wine, “Compliments of the management!” he explained with a smile. The waiter pulled the cork, poured just a little in a glass and handed it with a bow to Harry.

Harry looked at Hermione quizzically when she quickly and quietly explained the waiter was waiting for Harry's approval on the wine before he poured. Shrugging slightly Harry took the glass, sniffed and tasted the wine, then nodded to the waiter.

The waiter smiled, nodded then poured a bit more in his glass and did the same for Hermione. When the waiter left, Hermione burst out in a fit of stifled giggles at Harry.

“What?” Harry whispered.

“Nothing,” Hermione snorted, “I've just never pictured you like this before. It's a bit, I don't know…discombobulating!”

Harry just sat back folding his arms with a slightly devious grin.

“Would it make you more comfortable if belched, farted and jumped up scratching my bum?”

Hermione had to cover her mouth to keep from bursting out in a loud fit of laughter as she nodded her head, eyes beginning to water from her silent glee.

Harry could only chuckle rolling his eyes. After the food came they ate talking about the subtleties of proper etiquette while in public. Hermione instructed Harry in things he never had to think much about before.

“A finger bowl is for what?” He asked, “Why that just seems silly. Why not just lick the sauce off your fingers? That's a waste of good food!”

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes mumbling something about channeling his best Ronald.

After their delicious and very filling meal they decided to take a leisurely stroll on the beach. Hermione admitted the day was beginning to catch up to her when she yawned.

Night had settled in earnest with only the slightest hint of glow on the western horizon.

Hermione pulled off her sandals and before they had gone very far she realized Harry had taken her hand in his. She looked up at him with a smile.

Harry thought Hermione never looked so lovely as she walked beside him on the sand. He looked up into a night sky filled with billions and billions of pinpoints of light.

“You don't see this many stars in London,” He said in a hushed tone.

With another girlish laugh she let go of Harry's hand and dashed ahead of him slightly. She then held her arms out straight, leaned her head back and began to spin slowly in circles.

“What are you doing you silly witch?” Harry asked chuckling as he watched her spin round in circles.

“Try it Harry!” Hermione said laughing, “Fix your eyes on the brightest star then spin in circles.”

Harry did…and after a moment it seemed that he was spiraling through a vortex of circles of light. It was amazing to see but after about three spins his head began to feel funny. The next thing he knew he was crashing to the sand, landing hard on his shoulder.

Laughing madly Hermione crashed down next to him.

“My goodness Harry! You were spinning so fast it looked as if you just might lift off!”

“Well, that explains it,” Harry mumbled rubbing his shoulder.

“I really thought you a bit more coordinated than that,” she chuckled as she let herself fall back on the sand, arms flung over her head. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

Harry gaped at her for a moment.

“Hermione,” he exclaimed, “You're going to get sand all over you and your pretty white dress. I really like that dress, by the way.”

“Lighten up Harry,” Hermione quipped, “We're at the beach - on a tropical island - in the middle of the ocean. Sand is our friend!”

Harry laughed loudly and fell back on the sand beside her.

“That's better,” she said turning her head to gaze into his eyes. She reached out and touched his face letting the pads of her finger glide lightly across his cheek.

Harry closed his eyes shuddering slightly at her soft touch. He reached up capturing her hand with his and pressed his lips against her wrist, kissing softly. Harry heard a soft sigh escape her. It was just barely louder than the sound of the gentle waves lapping the shore of the pristine white sand.

Even though the sounds of Tahiti night life went on all around them they seemed lost in a bubble of their own little world for a moment. Harry desperately wanted to kiss her just then but she gently withdrew her hand and settled back on the sand again gazing up at the night sky.

“It's marvelous isn't it?” Hermione whispered.

“Yes Hermione,” Harry said as he too looked up into the night sky. His eyes landed on the star he focused on when he was spinning in circles like a nutter a few moments before, “What's that bright star there Hermione. I don't remember that one.”

Hermione shifted her gaze to the star in question and smiled widely.

“You should remember that one Harry!” Hermione glanced at him with a wry grin, “That's the star Sirius!”

“Of course,” Harry replied feeling a bit foolish, “The Dog Star. You're right. I should have remembered that one!”

“The Polynesian people in this region have been using Sirius to navigate by for thousands of years.”

“Sounds funny when you say it like that…” Harry chuckled.

Suddenly Hermione was on her feet looking down at Harry grinning. She reached out a hand to help him up.

“I think I'm ready to call it a day Harry,” she said as Harry grabbed her hand and she yanked with all her strength. When Harry got to his feet she wrapped him in a tight embrace and kissed him letting her tongue swirl with his for a moment. When she released him Harry was a bit dazed, “Time for bed…” The sleepy, slightly sultry look in her eyes made Harry's heart jump all over his chest.

With that she began towing him back toward the resort hotel. Harry wasn't sure what to make of this girl at the moment. Her slightly erratic behavior was quite out of her usual character but after what she had been through over the past several months he realized she hadn't exactly been herself in a long time. Harry just decided to roll with it and see where it took them. He had promised himself to give her what she wanted without protest or question…and that's exactly what he intended to do.

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21. 21 - Holiday Part 2

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply - Please see comments at end of chapter…

Chapter Twenty-One - Holiday (Part 2)

The next morning Hermione was up well before Harry. It was partly due to the fact she had always been an early riser and the radical time change had scrambled her internal clock somewhat but what really got her wide awake at 6:15 a.m. local time was when she opened her eyes found herself snuggled up tightly against Harry's chest with his arm thrown over her shoulders.

Her first reaction was to burrow deeper into him and go back to sleep but then reality dumped on her head like a bucket of cold ice water. Much to her relief she managed to extricate herself from his close proximity without waking him.

She wasn't sure why really. She had been ever so comfortable there pressed against him. His warmth and familiar scent was safe and reassuring - like Crookshanks on those blustery winter nights at Hogwarts when she sometimes cried herself to sleep not knowing what fate had in store for them then.

I love him…I love him more than anyone on this earth. So why am I so reluctant to give myself to him that way? Is it fear? Fear if we don't…fit together that way…would I lose him completely? No…surely not. Harry Potter would never be so shallow. You're just being insecure…

As she sat on one of the little bar stools she could see into the bedroom. The only thing she could see of Harry was his haphazard locks sticking up out of the massive comforter on the bed.

Her mind drifted to Viktor and how that craziness had happened. It had been like a flash fire - unplanned, unexpected and completely out of control. She had been a jumble of emotions because of the altercation she had with Ron earlier at the Ball.

Viktor had listened to her lament about the boy she was certain she was coming to fancy…a lot! When Hermione turned to him to bid Viktor goodnight she felt he at least earned a kiss for his patience and thoughtfulness but when their lips met it had been like and explosion of mutual desire and urgent need.

It had been a horrible mistake on her part. She blamed it on her vulnerability but she now knew better. She had known what she was doing and she had hated herself for it. She had not been old enough or mature enough to handle something like that but her curiosity and weakness had gotten the better of her.

But the utter danger and thrill it caused in her was like nothing she had ever felt before. It had been intoxicating. All the things she had heard older girls in her dorm talk about when it came to boys had landed on her and she had tucked it all away in her overly regimented mind.

The thought of getting killed by Death Eaters without ever knowing what physical pleasure was like was unacceptable to her so she simply closed her eyes and jumped…

Impetuosity is the fodder for utter self-destruction!

She told herself after that night, she would never…ever do that again!

She wondered if Harry had ever gone farther with Ginny then she had let on. Ginny had, at times, been rather vocal about some of the things she had gotten up to with Michael Corner and Dean Thomas. She seemed completely unabashed to talk about it but after she and Harry hooked up…not a peep.

As she sat there watching Harry sleep trying to push all her musings about such things out of her head she heard a gentle rapping on the door.

When she opened it a crack, a bellman was standing there with a stainless steel push cart. On it was an urn of coffee and plates piled high with bagels, muffins, crepes, tarts, pastries and all kinds of treats.

Hermione looked at the bellman with eyebrows raised.

“Complements of the Concierge and the Intercontinental Resort Mademoiselle,” he bowed, “May I?” He then gestured toward the interior of the room.

“Oh, of course! Thank you,” Hermione had to take a moment to get a grip, “Please give Monsieur Henry Bouchard-Gaston Des Fortesque my sincerest thanks. He is such a wonderful host! Thank you very much. Wait just a moment,” Hermione dashed back to the bar and found her small change purse. She took out a five pound note and gave it to the bellman. He bowed thanking her profusely as he backed out of the room closing the doors in his wake.

She was marveling over their bounty when she looked up and saw a much rumpled and still very sleepy Harry coming from the room. He was wearing just his pajama bottoms. His hair was a mess and his eyes squinting without his glasses. He stretched, yawned widely and scratched his left butt cheek.

Now that's the real Harry Potter I know and love! But Merlin…isn't it a lovely picture to see him so unpretentious!

“Did I miss something?” He mumbled.

“Yes actually,” she replied quite seriously, “The Minister for Magic was just here. He proclaimed all House Elves are now free!” She had no idea where that snark came from.

But Harry was not to be outdone. She might be the cleverest young witch and all but he had been paying attention all those years.

“Lovely,” he replied just as serious, “Fetch me when they issue wands to the Goblins then won't you?” He turned right around and went back into the room.

Hermione Granger stood there stunned speechless - which was an accomplishment!

When did Harry bloody Potter get so clever?

She started laughing like mad. A rather impetuous notion overcame her - she dashed after him and attacked him from behind pushing him onto the huge bed with an affected growl. In seconds they were both laughing, rolling around the bed play fighting, Harry quickly turned the tide of her assault and began taunting, teasing and tickling her relentlessly.

Finally, he had her arms pinned to the bed lying on her back crying “Uncle!”

He looked down at her as he hovered above. She was wearing the same small tank and those maddeningly tiny boy shorts she had worn at her parent's house the first night he had stayed.

Her expression was part demure and part impish and wasn't quite certain which he should act on at the moment. He could have stayed right there looking into her beautiful sparkling brown eyes forever.

He wanted to kiss her but also knew he had just got up so he needed to brush his teeth and do his business. He pushed himself up off the bed and moved to the bathroom.

“How long have you been awake? We're on holiday for Merlin's sake. You should sleep in Hermione.”

“Not long,” she replied. She was a bit disappointed when Harry left the bed. She was certain he was going to kiss her. She wanted it…much more than she realized. Part of her was ready to know Harry that way. She thought she longed for it and it was very much not like her…

But there's time for that. Maybe he's not ready. Don't push this Granger or you'll ruin it!

She thought it could be his lack of experience with such things although it wasn't like she was an expert.

Maybe I'll have to be the one to make the first move…

“Oh…stop it Granger,” she whispered to herself becoming irritated, “You're acting like a complete ninny!”

She threw herself off the bed and went to enjoy some of the treats on the cart and get a cup of coffee.

When Harry emerged Hermione had annihilated an apple filled pastry that was to die for and she was well on her way through her second cherry filled delight.

“Save some for me you piglet,” Harry chuckled. She had cherry compote on the right side of her mouth. “Good grief, you're gobbling those things like someone might take them from you!”

“I'd very much like to see them try,” she laughed.

Harry leaned close pointing to the corner of her mouth where the filling was.

“Seems you missed,” he then kissed the side of her mouth licking all the filling off the corner of her lips and cheek, “Not to worry,” he whispered in her ear after, “I'll volunteer for clean up.” He smiled that ever-familiar roguish smile of his.

Hermione could have died right then and there! To say she found her panties twisted into a knot was a rather accurate assessment of her present situation. She had the sudden but incontestable urge to toss her pastry over her shoulder and proceed to shag the snot out of one Boy-Who-Just-May-Not-Live-Through-It!

But alas, she just took another bite of her sweet pastry and sighed. They sat a while longer enjoying their tasty treats when Harry finally came up for air.

“So what do we want to do today Ms. Granger?” He asked as he swallowed the last bite of a blueberry and cream cheese filled crepe.

“Very glad you asked Mr. Potter,” she smiled then made her way to her little beaded bag. She reached in and pulled out a roll of parchment. When she untied it the scroll fell to the floor.

“I've got the entire next two weeks planed right down to meals, rainy day alternatives, even a bathroom schedule if we need it.”

Harry just looked at her for a moment then got up and moved to where she was beaming at her usual skill at proper planning with great pride.

“May I see that for a moment?” Harry asked smiling.

“Of course,” she handed him the itinerary and pointed to the first lines, “See, I have today planed for…”

But before she could finish he whispered Incendio! Hermione's well thought out and well planned itinerary burst into flames and charred to black ashes in seconds fluttering to the floor like demonic snowflakes.

Her mouth and eyes flew wide with shock. She was about to come completely unhinged when Harry gathered her up in his arms and kissed her for a very long time. When he finally released her she looked as if she had been properly confunded.

She tried to recover her previous indignation but failed miserably. That annoyed her even more than his destroying her itinerary.

“No plans, no schedules,” Harry said with a dreamy smile rocking her back and forth gently, “Let's just wing it, shall we?”

“Fine,” she replied a bit stiffly, “but you know what usually happens when we just wing it don't you Harry?”

Harry looked at her a bit surprised.

“Well we'll not be chasing after dark wizards this trip love, I promise you that! Might get the notions to try and find a few pirates maybe.” He chuckled.

She couldn't help but smile. It was her turn to kiss him back.

“Alright Potter,” she relented finally, “We'll do this your way but I'm still plenty miffed at you for torching my itinerary.” Her countenance changed suddenly to a pouty little girl. She turned her back to him and crossed her arms, “I had some really good ideas on there I thought you'd really enjoy.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind kissing her softly on the back of her neck making her body physically shudder.

Merlin's ghost! Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?

“I'm sure you did and I appreciate all the thought and hard work you put into your plan but please Hermione, just this once, let's just take things one day at a time and just do what we feel like when we feel like it. You'll love it, I promise.”

“I won't,” she said pouting more. She had completely resigned herself to accept Harry's idea but she wanted to punish him a bit for what he did so she decided to make him grovel a little.

“Please Hermione,” Harry said gently turning her to face him, “Don't be like that. Since when did you start pouting?”

“Since you hurt my feelings,” she answered with affected haughtiness looking sadly up into his eyes. She poked her bottom lip out even more. She was pouring it on.

“Ok,” Harry sighed, “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Hermione twisted her hands together, one over the other bringing her right shoulder up to her ear like a little girl. She looked at him with a bashful grin batting her eyelashes coyly. She was being completely ridiculous but it was fun.

“Erm,” she pointed back over her shoulder, “you can go over to my beaded bag and get the extra copy I made of my itinerary.”

“Oh you little…!” Harry growled.

With that she turned and bolted for the bedroom laughing and squealing playfully with Harry right on her heels.

When Harry dove to grab her Hermione side-stepped him at the last second and he went crashing head-long onto the bed laughing his head off. Hermione then proceeded to pounce. It was her turn to tease, torture, terrorize and tickle him into submission. It didn't take long.

He smiled up at her and whispered `Uncle.'

The strange and unexpected changes in Harry's personality had completely disarmed her. She fell forward into his arms and melted into his kiss.

The fire was lit - and his lips and hands were fanning the flames. If she didn't pull back soon there would be no stopping the inferno that would engulf her and there would be no turning back. She knew this but - at the moment Harry was gently kissing the soft flesh just under her left ear - she simply didn't care any more…

The soft sight that escaped her went right to Harry's heart. This girl he had known for so many years was opening a door - a door to possibilities he had never imagined or expected and it was a very heady thing.

He wanted to know more - do more but wasn't quite sure how he should proceed. He had no experience with this kind of thing. His time with Ginny had been about exploring one-another, a bit of petting, soft touches and quiet conversations about things that had little meaning. It was easy and care free with no pressure to do or say something deep and meaningful. They thought they had the future for those things…but now, at that very moment, with Hermione Granger so soft and warm and vulnerable above him he could not see his life any other way.

“I love you Hermione,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you more than anything in this world.”

For the first time since she was a little girl she was feeling and experiencing the raw and unencumbered emotional responses to this boy she knew so well. All her natural and learned personal defenses came crashing down. All the impenetrable walls she had built around her heart for so many years crumbled into utter ruin as he reached up for her.

With a desperate gasping sob she collapsed on top of him wrapping her arm around his middle and held him tightly. The sudden flames of desire raged inside her like never before.

Want him…Need him NOW!

Those were the only two thoughts in her mind at the moment. She kissed him through her tears trying desperately to control her raging emotions.

“I…I love y…you too Harry,” she choked but then her voice became heavy with longing and need. She looked down into his eyes as Harry reached up and wiped the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “And I want you!”

She had said those last words in almost a growl. Hermione wasn't certain she was capable of fully understanding what was happening to her. Her body was reacting to his words and his touch in ways she had never experienced before.

The intense throbbing and wetness was almost embarrassing but she was way too far gone to care.

Harry put his hands gently on Hermione's taught bottom and let his fingers drift ever-so-softly over her curves to slip up under the thin tank top. The pads of his finger glided gently over her warm soft skin.

This gentle sensual contact caused every muscle in Hermione's lower body to contract like a clenched fist. She gushed even more. The sound that escaped her throat was like a strangled cry of pain and she found herself pressing her bottom down harder on Harry. Her building lust was almost beyond her control.

Harry sat up wrapping his arms around her kissing her with his own barely controlled desire. As he searched for her soft warm tongue with his a smell hit his nostrils. It was a scent unlike anything he had ever encountered before and it was affecting him in ways he had never experienced.

He realized at once it was coming from Hermione. He wasn't about to stop what he was doing and analyze but he realized it was reaching deep inside him, scorching his baser instincts. His groin pulsed and throbbed in response.

Hermione could feel him swell, pressing against her now sodden center. While she loved the sensations and feelings he was provoking in her she couldn't take any more of this sensual torture without the top of her head blowing clean off.

She broke off the kiss a bit abruptly and sat back on her haunches gasping for air. She reached over her head with her right hand and mumbled, “Accio wand,” in an almost breathless whisper. When her wand zipped into her grasp from the other room she waved it once and what little clothing they had on was gone. With another swish and flick she mumbled a protection charm on herself then quite unceremoniously tossed her wand over her shoulder with teeth clenched.

“I want to make love to you Harry,” she growled in a heated whisper, “Please!”

She fell on him then kissing him hard. She shifted just enough to let her hand slide down between their bodies wrapping her slender fingers around his throbbing shaft.

Harry stiffened throwing his head back against the pillows of the bed letting a groan escape his throat.

“Oh…oh, Hermione!”

That was all she could take. She lifted her bottom and leaned forward enough to guide him to her dripping center. With a gasping sigh she slowly lowered herself down onto him letting her body wrap around him with her warm wet channel.

“Great Godric's ghost!” Harry murmured, “That feels…that feels.”

When Hermione had settled on him completely a hissing, “Yesss Harry, it does!” escaped her. She let her head loll back with eyes closed tightly. Her mouth fell open in a silent `OH' as he filled her.

After a few moments just enjoying him inside her she began to move. It was nothing more than a gentle rocking at first but it was enough to elicit some very favorable responses from her lover. Harry reached up to cup her breasts in his palms. The contact of his hands sliding gently across her swollen nipples was enough to make her gasp and clench again.

The feeling of her muscles tightening around him made Harry groan loudly.

He liked that! He liked it when I tightened around him!

What Hermione found she liked very much was that she was in control at the moment. With a twitch this way or a movement that way she could give Harry some very intense pleasure with her body. It was very empowering for her.

With this knowledge she began to move a bit faster gliding up and down on his hard shaft. For Hermione she could feel the heat and pressure building inside her and it wouldn't take much more for her to explode in an intense release.

For Harry the change in her movements sent thrilling sensations spreading out from his groin to make his hands and feet tingle. The sensations she was eliciting from his manhood were making his groin muscles clench in the buildup of his own pending release.

Harry sat up and took Hermione's mouth again. It caused her to pause her grinding motions on his hardness for just a moment but this young witch was not to be denied. With clenched teeth she pressed him back down on the bed and resumed her motions with a renewed intensity. She looked him directly in his eyes hovering above him.

“You feel so good,” she gasped, “Does it bother you I'm on top?”

“Erm…should it?” Harry gasped. He couldn't quite understand how she could even create a coherent thought at the moment, He could barely breathe, “I just want to make you happy.”

His words combined with her intense building need were enough to break even the most introverted and self-protected soul. As she pressed her body down on him as tightly she could feel the first throws of a majorly earth-shattering orgasmic release slamming into her with all the subtlety of a speeding locomotive.

Harry could feel something change within her after that last verbal exchange. He could feel her body grip him even tighter and he was about to lose himself completely in the warm tight wetness of her body…but there was something else happening.

He could feel it out on the periphery of his consciousness. He tried to ignore it and focus on this amazing girl who was about to come completely undone on top of him. He didn't want to miss a second of it.

Hermione gasped out loud as she plunged up and down on him several more times before her entire body clenched this time. She threw her had back with eyes shut tightly and screamed as the full force of her release exploded.

Lights and heat and the sound of what could only be described as a hurricane filled her senses as her channel clenched hard on Harry's shaft. Her body gushed squeezing out of her around Harry's hardness. She could feel him swell and the tip of his shaft expand to fill her even more.

Harry's own body clenched as his hips bucked up to meet Hermione's desperate downward thrust. With a gurgling cry his own intense release hit him and he could feel himself let go. The hot fluid exploded from the tip of his manhood and he was powerless to stop it. His body jerked once, twice, three times, four times as he tried to push himself even deeper inside her warm soft body. He could feel her hot fluid flow down over his groin and it felt so warm and comforting. The smell of her sex was intoxicating him.

Hermione's release seemed to go on and on buffeting her in the intense sensations. It was like nothing she had ever experienced or could have ever been prepared for. It was all at once debilitating but at the same time so completely fulfilling. She knew at once she could learn to like this very much!

After the last clenching release subsided she collapsed boneless on top of Harry's heaving body beneath her. They were both bathed in an intensely heated sweat. Harry was sticky with her fluid and she could feel his oozing out of her as she lay on top of him with his slowly softening shaft still inside her. Harry, still gasping for breath, encircled Hermione's body in a loving and gentle embrace.

What he had seen as he watched this girl come completely undone would never leave him. She had taken what she wanted and he let her willingly. He knew in his heart he would do it again if that's what she wanted. He began to realize as she lay atop him panting and trembling and weak from her release this was what true love was all about. The giving of one's self whatever the other needed without hesitations or reservations and the trust required allowing it to happen. It was the knowledge the girl he was holding in his arms would never leave him…not ever. They may be separated by space and time but their hearts would never come apart. It was enough to make his own tears fall but as he looked around them trying to reign in his emotions what he saw was enough to stem his sentimentality instantly.

“Erm…Hermione,” Harry whispered.

It took a great physical effort for her to raise her head from his chest. The look on her face was of a rather sleepy befuddled happiness.

“Oh Harry,” she whispered in a very raspy voice full of drowsy contentment, “That was so…”

But the look on Harry's face cut off her praises and her gaze followed his. What she saw made her sit up with a jolt and a slight squeak of complete shock.

The room was a complete mess. Wallpaper had curled up from the baseboards and was scorched black along the edges. Pictures and paintings were all haphazardly hanging and some looked as if they had been burnt. Several vases of satin flowers were smoldering with thin trials of smoke drifting up from what was left of the stems. Plastic had melted and fabric scorched. A large door length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door was warped and looked like something one might find in a carnival fun house. Furniture had been moved and light bulbs had popped.

“Oh…oh my!” Hermione exclaimed, “Harry! Did we…?”

“I suppose it had to be…” He replied as he gently shifted Hermione's flushed and sweaty body off his and stood up to survey the carnage. He could only scratch his head with a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

As Hermione sat in stunned silence taking in the utter destruction of their room she started laughing. It started as a quiet chuckle as she put her hand over her mouth but quickly became a full-blown belly laugh. She fell back on the bed gasping for air as the comic tragedy of it all overcame her.

Harry looked at her as if she had come unhinged.

“I'm not sure I see the humor Hermione?”

Hermione forced herself into control. She rolled to her side peering up at him with a devious looking little smirk. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over her lovely naked form. Her skin still glistened with sweat and her hair was a mess but she had never looked so completely unfettered and lovely.

“Oh Harry,” she chuckled waving a hand nonchalantly at the room, “This can all be fixed easily enough. You know what this means don't you?”

“I've no idea,” He replied, hands on hips looking around the room astonished.

Hermione slowly and with as much seductress as she could manage slipped off the bed and came to stand in front of him. She slipped her arms around him pressing her still over-heated body against his. She leaned her head on his shoulder and pulled his head down to her kissing him with all the passion she possessed. When she let him come up for air she smiled.

“It means when we are together and so intensely focused on one-another our magic apparently likes to wander. We're going to have to be careful. That was just the first time. I can't imagine what might happen if we really let go!”

Harry's eyebrows all but disappeared.

“Is this supposed to happen?”

“I don't…think so,” Hermione replied, she really wasn't certain, “but what it tells me,” she looked up at him with a blazing look of pure affection and love, “is that you and I are meant to be together Harry. I felt it. Didn't you?”

Harry searched himself for a moment. What he felt for this girl could not be put into words to do it justice. It was simply indefinable at present but he was certain of one thing…

“Yes Hermione,” he grinned, “I felt something happening around us but I just tried to ignore it. I didn't want to take my eyes off you.”

“Potter,” she smirked, taking his hand and leading him toward the bathroom, “you and I together are a menace and quite possibly dangerous,” she giggled, “and I think it's lovely!”

After quick showers and the subsequent repair of the room, which turned out to be a bit more difficult than first anticipated, they decided to spend the rest of the day sunning on the beach.

As Hermione came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel she spied Harry sitting on the corner of the bed holding a bag from the B.H.S. they shopped at before they left. She gave him a quizzical look because his expression was that of the cat who had just eaten the canary.

“What's that you've got there?” She asked fluffing out her wet hair.

Harry patted the bed next to him and Hermione moved to sit in the spot he indicated without protest.

“I got you something while we were shopping,” He replied smiling. He reached in the bag and pulled out a thin flat box wrapped in bright blue foil paper. It had a white ribbon wrapping its length and width.

Hermione looked at him a bit bewildered.

“Harry, I was with you practically the whole time. When did you get this?” She took the present from his hand and laid it gently on her lap still looking at Harry's slightly pink features with surprise.

“Consider it a thank you present for helping me get clothes that make me look human,” he smirked, “If I had to do that on my own there's no telling what I would have come back with. I would have probably ended up looking a lot like Mundugus Fletcher!”

She laughed out loud shaking her head, “I doubt it Harry! You're not that thick,” she paused gazing down at the box, “You know you really shouldn't have…but thank you and I love you for being so thoughtful.” She bonked her forehead against his shoulder playfully.

She sat there for a moment, her fingers lightly tracing over the shiny foil paper.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well, open it silly?”

“Ok…ok,” Hermione huffed, “Can't a girl make the moment last a bit? Sheesh!”

With a grin she tore open the wrapping and slipped the lid off the box. When she parted the tissue wrapping the gift on the inside her eyes went wide and her mouth fell completely open.

Inside was the very same incredibly sexy golden swimsuit she had tried on that day.

“Oh…oh Potter,” she chastised, “Now I know you shouldn't have! Harry this…this…”

“Shut it you,” Harry groused, “I got this for you because I love you and I know you loved it, you git…and besides…,” he paused practically glaring at her.

“Besides what,” She asked folding her arms returning his glare.

She thought his gesture, while sweet and lovely, a bit frivolous and extravagant. She wasn't sure why but the thought of him spending so much money on such a thing grated on her frugal sensibilities.

“I get to see you wear it and quite frankly, I can't wait!” Harry's face broke out in an almost manic grin. He wiggled his eyebrows while holding his tongue between his teeth.

Hermione burst out in a fit of laughter and wrapped him in a bone crushing hug around the middle.

“I should brain you,” she quipped, “but all I really want to do is shag you senseless again!”

“Oh…darn!” Harry sighed looking properly surprised then his expression changed to affected sorrow, “The things I must endure in the pursuit of happiness.”

“Oh, you cheeky little snot!” Hermione growled.

After rolling around the bed again in a tangle of arms, legs and a bit of heavy petting they both agreed if they didn't stop they would never make it outside the room…for most of their holiday…so Hermione clamped down on her suddenly raging hormones, for which she completely blamed Harry, and wandered off to make ready for a day down on the sand and surf.

Harry had already dressed in his new stylish swim trunks and was gathering up what Hermione had indicated they would take with them. He was holding said items when Hermione finally exited the bathroom adorned in her new barely there swim tog. She had done her long hair into a French braid again.

So…all the items Harry was holding ended up on the floor as he couldn't help but gawk stupidly at the incredibly gorgeous and sexy young witch before him.

Seeing his incredulous look Hermione rolled her eyes, hands on hips.

“Harry, we just made love and I was completely naked for Merlin's sake!”

Harry's response was to babble something totally incoherent and begin to drool like Grawp.

“Merlin and Morgana, Hermione!”

“Oh stop Harry,” she grumbled, “I'm not all that attractive. At least not like most of the other girls you know.” She then moved to the dresser and slipped a tee shirt over her head and began to gather up some of the things Harry had dropped.

“Are - you - MAD!” Harry stammered.

“Come on lover boy,” she said grabbing his hand and towing her partially confunded best friend toward the door, “We'll miss the best sun if we don't get a move on. I want to start on a good base tan. I want to look like a native before I leave this place.”

After they made their way down to the sand Hermione decided to settle into one of the loungers provided by the resort but Harry wanted to lie on the sand so he spread his towel down next to her chair.

After Hermione had situated all her beach-going necessities, (towel, sun tan oil, book, sun glasses, sun visor and a bottle of spring water) she then crossed her arms and pulled off her tee shirt stretching her arms over her head. The next moment had her oiling her lithe body with suntan oil.

All male heads turn in her direction and all conversation, activity, heartbeats and breathing come to an abrupt stop.

Harry looked around and as he saw every bloke on the beach gawk at Hermione he watched, open mouthed, as a rather strange and comical sequence of events occurred behind them…

1. A man carrying a rather large cooler full of beer and ice (while gawking at a very sexy young woman's completely exposed bum) tripped over the guy line of a small tent erected by a young family to protect their sleeping young child from the sun.

2. Cooler full of beer and ice tips and splashes an older woman soaking her with ice cold water. She flies out of her chair screaming and lands on grandson's wind surf board.

3. Grandson, sitting on end of surfboard goes flying forward and dives into a very intricate looking sand castle being constructed with tender loving care by a father and his young daughter.

4. Father building sand castle rears back away from flying boy slinging a small shovel full of sand behind him and falling back sits on a bucket full of water.

5. Sand from father's shovel is flung into man's eyes standing watching father and daughter building castle. He lunges back tripping over tie line holding a small sail boat on shore and tears line from its mooring.

6. Wind takes small sailboat off shore in the path of speeding personal watercraft. Watercraft slices through small sailboat sinking it to the bottom of the shallow bay.

7. Young man riding watercraft is thrown off into a young man riding another windsurfer. They both go tumbling into the water.

8. Wind surf board goes flying into the side of a ski boat and punches a hole in the side of same and sends it to the bottom of the shallow bay.

9. Skier being towed by the sinking boat skips off the back of the boat, flies through the air and crashes into a small Orange Julius stand on the beach.

10. Wheel from Orange Julius stand rolls into the Lifeguard's stand. The Lifeguard's stand is knocked over making quite a few people scramble to safety.

11. Umbrella from Lifeguard stand flies off and the point pokes the same man with cooler full of beer and ice in the bottom. He screams throwing what was left of the beer and ice all over the people around him on the beach.

Harry and Hermione stood there gaping unbelievably at what had taken place. When all the carnage settled all the men were still gawking at her.

Hermione folded her arms tightly under her barely covered breasts and huffed.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” she groused, “How utterly ridiculous!” With that she plopped down in her lounger arms still folded tightly. She reached behind her and flipped her towel over her head.

Harry laughed and slowly pulled her towel off.

“I'd say you got everyone's attention,” he chuckled as he settled himself on his towel on the sand.

“Humph,” she huffed scowling.

“Hermione,” Harry said sitting up and leaning against her lounger, “I told you, you are a very lovely girl. I can't believe I never realized just how lovely but,” he shrugged, “I'm just thankful it's me you chose to be with,” then he leaned closer to her whispering, “I'm having a hard time believing it all.”

Hermione didn't seem mollified in the least but the memory of earlier caused her to blush profusely.

“You'd think these blokes had never seen a woman in a bikini before!” She grumbled, “It's preposterous!”

“I'd say very few on them have ever seen one as amazing…”

“Oh enough Harry!” She growled loudly, “I'm not that attractive!”

Harry held his hand out gesturing to the continuing reparations to the carnage around them.

“Your Honor, I present to you for examination as evidence…exhibit A!” He chuckled.

Hermione found herself in a bit of a huff long after the destruction had been cleared away and life went back to normal on the beach around them, all but the owner of the ski boat. It took hours to get the thing pulled out of the shallow bay area.

They spent the rest of the day sunning, swimming and, as Harry had called it, being horribly lazy.

Hermione refrained from going in the water. She was almost afraid to get up from her lounger but when nature called she slipped her tee-shirt back before going to the loo.

Even wearing an over-sized shirt the men (and even a few women) seemed to watch her every move.

By the late afternoon Hermione informed Harry he was getting a bit pink even though she had continually applied her sun lotion to him on a regular basis. They decided to call it a day.

After a pleasant dinner they decided to go for another late night stroll on the beach.

“So what do you want to do tomorrow,” Hermione asked, “I had planned on introducing you to some very fun aquatic sports I thought you'd really enjoy but we can stick to your plan of pure randomness if you prefer.”

Harry stopped and gazed into her eyes seriously for a moment.

“Look, I'm sorry about the whole list thing but I just thought it would be a bit more relaxing if we just did whatever but I see now I should rely on your experience. So what are these aquatic sports you speak of?”

“Well,” she resumed walking towing him along, “There's snorkeling. We can swim a bit farther off shore and look for seashells and things. Then I wanted to take you scuba diving at least once while we were here…”

“Scuba diving?” Harry looked at her puzzled but then grinned, “Wait, I know what that is. I've seen it on the telly.”

“It's great fun Harry. You can actually stay underwater for an hour or so. It's wonderful to dive off coral reefs and such. The ocean floor is full of life and color. It's wonderful!”

“And you've done Scuba diving before I suppose?”

“Yes, a few times but mostly when we went to France. I got my certificate for shallow diving when I was 15. So…you think you'd like to try it?”

“Absolutely!” Harry grinned, “The program I saw had these blokes who went all over the world swimming with all kinds of sea creatures and such. Looked like great fun.”

“Well,” Hermione smiled a bit sadly, “What we'll be doing won't be quite that spectacular but I'm sure there's plenty to see out there,” her arm swept out over the shallow bay, “You'll be required to take a short diving class through the resort before we can go out but it's really necessary and important for you to know at least the basics. I can show you some things but I'm not a qualified diving instructor.”

“That sounds brilliant Hermione,” Harry beamed, “Let's do it!”

“Ok,” she responded by gathering him up in her arms and kissing him passionately, “what say we snorkel a bit tomorrow then we'll get you into the next diving class so we can go out at the end of the week, sounds rather romantic actually.”

The look on her face made Harry's heart beat like a bass drum in his chest as they stood there on the sand, the sound of the gentle surf and Tahiti night life surrounding them with a rather strange sense of peace.

It wasn't something either of them had felt since entering the wizard world when they were eleven. It was so wonderful to think about even the most mundane things instead of worrying if the next day would bring the possibility of death or utter destruction to their world.

Once back in their room they seemed a bit reluctant to lose themselves in one-another again so soon. The desire was still there but for Hermione, she tried to convince herself that too much of a good thing tends to make you take it for granted and she never wanted that to happen between her and Harry.

For Harry, he didn't want to become pushy or demanding when it came to making love with Hermione. It was all still very new to him so he resigned himself to allow her to decide when. He was also a bit intimidated by what had happened to the room around them and wasn't sure he was ready to deal with all that again just yet. He wanted her, there was no doubt about that but the thought of burning down the bloody resort hotel scared him a bit.

The next day found the skies a bit overcast with some high thin clouds so Hermione said it was a good time to go snorkeling. The lack of direct sun would serve not to cook them too badly although she made it very clear one could still get a nasty burn even on a cloudy day.

So they donned their swim togs and headed for the surf with their swim fins, masks and snorkels. Harry instantly noticed Hermione had opted for a more conservative one-piece suit covered by a white tight-fitting short-sleeved body shirt. He couldn't help but laugh.

She was still a bit aggravated by what had happened the day before and commented the lack of swimsuit allowed her to get sun in places she wasn't quite accustomed to.

Taking an hour or so to practice in the swimming pool Hermione explained it was a bit different in the ocean because of the waves and the constant movement of the tide but it gave Harry a chance to fit his mask and work the snorkel.

When she thought him ready off they went. They paddled around the shallows of the bay until Harry wanted to go a bit farther out to deeper water so they could find some shells and see some things.

A bit farther out they encountered crabs and all kinds of shells. The plant life was a bit sparse but they still got a good glimpse of some sea grass and small patches of kelp and seaweed.

Hermione found a good sized Hermit crab and placed it in Harry's hand. It scuttled about for a few moments until it crawled off the edge of his palm and plopped back into the surf. They found a few sand dollars and a beautiful conch shell Hermione declared was a must keep.

They spent quite a few hours out in the bay when Hermione finally begged Harry to head back. She couldn't help but laugh. He was like a little kid, everything being so amazing and wondrous.

That evening found them wandering downtown checking out the local scene. They didn't go into many places but simply wanted to check things out.

The easy pace of the island permeated both of them and Hermione began to admit to herself the idea of just `winging it' had its merits.

A.N. July 19th 2011

Yesterday I witnessed what I consider to be the culmination of one of the greatest and most prolific literary achievements of our modern age - and I must report my feelings were greatly mixed at the conclusion of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Part 2.

I, like so very many others who have been pulled into this world created by nothing more than a unique and talented mind, find myself a bit…let down by those who chose to shoulder the task of transforming this captivating tale into a visual artistry.

I have learned there are two distinct `schools-of-thought' on the process of adapting the written word to film. First is a visual representation - the process of lifting scenes and images from the pages of a story and bringing them to life through the talents of well selected physical performances and the monumental technical challenge of creative videography.

The second is what - in my opinion - could be considered a visual interpretation of the written word adapted to film using the very same means as the first, however, the end result being quite different, in many respects, from the original source.

Both methods could be construed as being an acceptable means of adaptation but when a story has already been told and generally accepted by those who view that particular creation in a dogmatic context it can often be considered rather degrading or detrimental to find what could be considered by many to be egregious changes in the intrinsic details of a particular tale.

I find myself in that particular place when it comes to almost all the Harry Potter films. While, by themselves, they are very amazing and incredible visual creations that captivated millions of us the world over, allowing us a glimpse into this world we have all found ourselves fascinated by but if one finds themselves expecting these same films to remain within the confines of the original work one also finds one's self greatly disappointed as a result.

As an author as well as a fan I have discovered I'm not certain I can subscribe to the art of `visual interpretation' and feel there are some things that simply should not be improved upon or altered to fit within the confines of someone-else's perceptions.

As for these characters I've come to love over the years - The bungling but courageous Harry Potter, the affable and gregarious Ronald Weasley and our ever-illuminated and effervescent Hermione Granger (as well as the real people who brought them to life for us on screen) - I will miss them but as it is with the written word, they will still be here with us long after the films have faded into obscurity and the true spirit of the story will remain for generations to come…just as it should be.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for giving us this amazing and wondrous tale - for allowing us to lose ourselves in a world so vastly different from our own…so full of endless possibilities…and dreams…

In the words of one ginger-haired Weasley who couldn't seem to cast a spell to save his own life and had a rather annoying smudge on the side of his nose…it has all been most…

Wicked!

DWK…

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22. Chapter Twenty Two - Holiday Part 3

Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twenty-Two - Holiday (Part 3)

The weather remained almost perfect as the end of their first week on the island approached.

Harry was a bit nervous as Hermione helped him slip the air tank harness over his shoulders and buckle him in.

The instructor allowed her to assist when he discovered she was already certified so he could attend to the others taking his short instructional course for first-time divers.

After Harry was all buttoned up they waited until the instructor went over the regulator, gages, simple procedure and weight belts.

Finally Hermione helped Harry slip in his breathing apparatus and settle to the bottom of the deep end of the pool.

He sat looking out his mask at a smiling Hermione. Bubbles leaked out of both sides of her mouth. He tried to smile but his lips were stretched tight around the mouthpiece. He gave her a thumbs-up instead.

She patted him on top his head then drifted to the surface, her wonderful lithe body sliding slowly passed his face mask. The tight black diving top and bikini bottoms doing nothing to assist in helping keep his breathing calm.

He sat wondering how he had completely not noticed how amazingly beautiful this girl was. It simply astounded him how utterly daft and distracted he had been for most of his life.

As he watched her move off to assist the diving instructor with some of the others Harry found his mind going back.

This was very different then the last time he had spent any time under water. His experience with the Gillyweed had been rather surreal but it had been much simpler than this. It amazed him how much stuff was required for a Muggle to spend time under water.

Even though magic could be complicated, strange and often difficult to comprehend at times it made life so much easier in many ways.

He began watching the bubbles from his exhales and found himself a bit hypnotized by them so it was a bit of a jolt when the instructor tapped the top of his head. When Harry's attention snapped to the instructor's face the dark man tapped his air gauge.

When Harry looked he realized he was almost at reserve air which, he was told was also called return air, enough air to get back to the surface plus a little extra just in case. It was set up that way for novice divers like Harry who would tend to forget about their dive gauges.

Harry then dropped his weight belt and with a bit of help from the instructor floated to the surface. Harry removed his mask a bit red-faced at his lack of attention. He completely forgot the instructor told them they would only have about 15 minutes of air for the pool test so they needed to keep an eye on the air gauge.

“You don't want to be 30 feet down and run out of air Mr. Potter.” the instructor said, “It's not like you'll drown because there will be several dive assistants along but it can be quite uncomfortable.”

“Sorry,” Harry replied, “I got really relaxed down there. It was kind of nice,” his glance darted to Hermione helping an old woman out of her tank harness, “I'll do better at keeping an eye on my gauges.”

“Not to worry Mr. Potter,” the instructor smiled, “The idea is to have fun on the first dive. We're more than happy to take care of the details for you. It's our job to keep an eye on everyone! Besides,” he too glanced toward Hermione, “you'll be with someone who almost has as much dive experience as some of my assistants so I don't really have to worry about you.”

He winked patting Harry on the shoulder then moved off toward an American couple coming to the surface.

After they concluded their short training in the pool the small group had a quick lunch then was taken by the resort van to a waiting boat at the harbor near where Harry and Hermione came on the island for the first time. After being ushered aboard the dive instructor and his three assistants loaded the tanks and equipment onboard and stowed it all in their proper places.

Once the boat shoved off from the dock the dive instructor, who was also the boat's captain came forward and addressed them.

“Ok folks, now that were hear I'm sure you're all anxious to get in the water but there are a few things we need to talk about before we get to our diving location. First, please remember what we went over in dive class and please, while you're down stay with your dive partner. Since we have all couples this time it shouldn't be a problem.”

“You may go in your own direction if you choose but please try to keep the other groups in sight. Let's not stray too far from the launch please.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. The instructor continued.

“Now, we have a choice for you to decide on as a group. We have three different dive sites we can go to each a bit different for various reasons. The first sight is approximately four miles due west. It's a small coral grove that has quite a bit of marine life in, on and around the short reef. It's a good diving spot and only about fifteen to twenty feet down. The second location is approximately twelve miles north-west. It will take a bit longer to get there but is a cove on one of the smaller islands in the Archipelagos. It is also a bit deeper dive at about twenty five feet. There are underwater caves and such that can be quite amazing to see. It's a bit difficult to negotiate some areas of the cove due to the currants but I think most of you could handle it without incident. However, due to the longer travel time and the depth there will be less time down.”

“The third location is one of our most popular for experienced divers. It is approximately 18 miles to the south of the main island and is a wrecked Spanish merchant ship that went down in what was suspected to be a very strong typhoon somewhere around the late sixteen hundreds.”

Harry's eyes went wide and he brightened instantly.

“A real shipwreck Hermione!”

His boyish enthusiasm made her laugh as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“That's right up your alley Pirate Potter!” She quipped kissing him on the cheek. Everyone laughed.

“However,” the instructor added, “I must tell you it can be a bit challenging for first time divers partly because it is very close to the limit of the standard dive or what we call shallow dive air mix. Any deeper than say…thirty feet or so requires a specialized mix of air called tri-mix or the use of what is called a re-breather.”

“Since we don't get quite that technical on these pleasure dives we try to stay shallow. So, diving on the shipwreck is possible without too many problems but we have had divers experience a variety of discomforts after because of the depth. Just letting you know. Again, as a result of the trip time and depth we'll only have about an hour down.”

The instructor looked over the five couples and smiled a bit sheepishly.

“Since we have so many first time divers in this group I would recommend the first choice…Carnival Reef…but it's your decision. We'll take you where you decide but it must be unanimous with the group. Fair enough?”

Everyone nodded. When the instructor went back to the bridge they all began discussing the choices. Harry was convinced he wanted to dive on the shipwreck but after some common sense advice from not only Hermione but from both the young Americans who were both certified divers Harry reconsidered. He knew they were probably right about the stress in deeper water and didn't want to ruin it for everyone else.

“The first time I went deep was in the U.S. Navy,” the American man said, “After I hit fifty feet I thought my head would explode. I threw up in my face mask. It wasn't pretty.”

Some of the other woman gagged while others made faces. Harry looked at Hermione who just shrugged.

“Strange things happen under water Harry. It's one of two places humans don't really belong.”

“What's the other,” he asked.

“Outer Space,” she said smiling, “Complete vacuum!”

So the unanimous decision was Carnival Reef. When they told the instructor he smiled and told them they made a wise choice. As a result of their kindness to the less experienced divers the experienced and certified divers were given a fifty per-cent discount coupon if they wanted to come back for a second trip. Hermione thought that was very cool.

One of the crewmen turned on a stereo that blared music for a moment until the cd player stopped working. One of the guys smacked the top of the player a few times.

“Stupid thing,” he grumbled, “Only works when she wants to.”

Hermione got to her feet with a smirk and moved to where the crewman was fiddling with the player.

“May I,” she asked with a smile.

“Be my guest,” the crewman grinned, “I'm about to make the thing walk the plank!” He laughed. Some of the other crewman laughed as well.

The others watched as she did something with the disc, then using her finger she reached inside the player and did something. When she was done she set the cd back in the cradle and snapped the lid shut.

When she hit the play button the music played just fine. Harry could only look at her with amazement as some of the other passengers cheered along with the crew.

“I swear Hermione,” Harry laughed as he got up and kissed her unabashedly, “Is there anything you can't do?”

She looked up into his beaming face and a very snarky thought occurred to her. She gave him a silly little smirk.

“Well I can't piddle standing up,” she smiled.

Everyone cracked up laughing at her response. Not to be outdone Harry thought of a snarky comeback of his own. It came completely out of the blue.

“I think,” he retorted, “Not only can you piddle standing up. I'm willing to bet you could write your bloody name in the snow!”

Hermione turned bright red and her mouth fell open wide in affected shock. She thumped Harry on the shoulder as everyone on the boat burst out in raucous laughter. The captain/dive instructor was laughing so hard he had tears coming out of his eyes. Some of the other crew were rolling around the deck.

When the cd player changed to a very popular song everyone seemed to know the American couple jumped up with shouts and began dancing on the deck. The next few moments had the rest of them joining in, Harry and Hermione included. Before they knew it many of the crewman joined them and it was a happy, wonderful celebration of life and freedom.

Harry had no idea what he was doing but he didn't care. He just moved his arms and wiggled his butt. They laughed and whooped and hollered all the way to the dive site.

Hermione overheard the instructor comment to one of his dive assistants he wished all their trips were like this, people having fun and getting along with one-another.

When they reached the dive site the celebration concluded and everyone began suiting up and slipping into their tanks and gear. The mood was light and happy as the crew dropped anchor. It wasn't long until one after the other slipped over the side and waited treading water for the rest of the group to join them.

Hermione double-checked Harry's gear before she let him drop backwards over the side. Once in the water herself she showed him a little trick to keep his mask from fogging under water.

“Just spit inside your mask then rub it around like this,” Hermione puckered up and spit a little on the inside of the lens. She smeared it around a little with her fingers then looked at Harry.

He did as she illustrated then slipped his mask over his head smiling.

Once all the dive assistants were in among the divers they handed out weight belts. They then swam a few yards away from the boat then gave the pre-assigned hand signal to let them all know it was ok to go down.

With a thumbs-up Hermione took Harry's hand and slowly pulled him below the surface. As they sank he was absolutely amazed at what awaited them at the bottom. He marveled at the color of not only the plant life but the brightly colored fish that swam all around them in large schools.

As they neared the bottom Hermione tapped Harry's shoulder. When he looked at her she pointed to her depth gage. When Harry looked at his he saw they were at about 18 feet. She pointed to him then made the ok sign with her fingers. Harry knew she was asking him if he was ok so he nodded. With that they finished descending to the bottom.

The small reef they were diving in was horseshoe shaped. There were all types of coral and shells with creatures still living in them as well as larger more menacing looking fish. Harry marveled at it all taking everything in as they swam along the edge of the reef.

Many of the others had underwater cameras and were taking a lot of pictures. Critters scuttled here and there at the bright flashes from the cameras.

At one point Harry found himself drifting slowly along just above Hermione as she dove to the bottom to get a closer look at a huge fan coral. As he watched he couldn't help but let his eyes take all of her in.

She was amazing. Her long hair in a tight French braid - her tanned legs moving slowly propelling her slender body along effortlessly. It was as if she had been born into this world. It was having a rather peculiar effect on him.

One of the dive assistants managed to catch a rather large spiny crab and they all gathered around to look at it. It seemed quite content to let itself be held as everyone looked and some who were brave enough touched its shell.

When the assistant placed it gently back on the sand it scuttled off quickly sideways slipping under a nearby rock to safety. A bit later they watched a huge sea snake slither by along the top edge of the reef.

As Harry and Hermione reached the southern end of the reef Hermione found a huge abandoned conch shell that she had to keep. It was beautiful with multi-colored layers and dotted with little brown speckles everywhere.

Hermione found a rock that had several very large starfish attached and they looked at them for a while.

It was then Hermione glanced at her dive gauge. She tapped Harry on the shoulder pointing to her gauge then to the surface. Harry nodded reluctantly and they very slowly began finning toward the surface of the reef.

When they broke top water they found they had drifted a fairly good distance from the boat. Harry followed Hermione's lead as she swam toward the boat much like they did when they were snorkeling. It was a bit difficult for Harry to manage because the weight belt and gear was trying to pull him back under. It didn't seem to bother Hermione at all.

When they reached the launch Harry was about exhausted. He felt muscles pulling he didn't even know he had.

Many of the first time divers were already back aboard and it wasn't long until the rest came back. The American couple was the last to return. The woman had found what looked like a rusty length of chain. Everyone gathered around to look at her find.

She willingly turned the artifact over to the captain knowing that anything found in the waters around the Archipelago were sent to the Department of Maritime Antiquities for research and preservation and belonged to the French Polynesian Islands. They were just excited to find it.

The whole trip back the group was lost in discussion about where the chain may have come from. The captain and crew told stories of ships lost near the islands and they listened with rapt attention. Any mention of pirates and Harry would brighten like a light bulb.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh each time. They were having a wonderful time.

That evening after another outstanding meal at the restaurant they found themselves wondering the streets of Pepeete once again, Harry in a pair of jeans and one of his tropical print shirts and Hermione in a light yellow sun dress.

As they made their way to what appeared to be a small park they heard music. It was unlike any they had ever heard. The drums and instruments were not the conventional types but the music was quite rhythmic. When they made their way deeper into the little park area they came upon what looked like a festive celebration of some kind.

A large group of what appeared to be local native people were all gathered under an open shelter. Multi-colored festoon lights were strung around the outside of the shelter and the inside was a mass of tiny twinkling white lights that looked almost like stars.

The floor of the shelter was a mass of people dancing and laughing and having a wonderful time. Children ran here and there chasing after one-another. It was a happy celebration of some kind.

Harry grinned down at his radiant and lovely companion.

“Let's go see what this is all about Hermione,” He looked at her, his eyes sparkling in the reflection of the distant festive lights, “What do you say?”

Hermione couldn't help but marvel at how different he seemed completely removed from the world of magic. How relaxed and at ease he was…and she was finding she liked this Harry…very, very much. She held out her hand chuckling.

“After you, Mr. Potter.”

They found themselves greeted with smiles and very warm welcome as they found out it was a birthday celebration for several family members and friends. One of the elder women was 101 years old this day.

Harry and Hermione paid their respects to the wizened old woman who seemed quite spry for someone just over a century old. She told them they were welcome and to enjoy the celebration.

The music was happy and joyful with a rhythm that pulled them both toward the dancing crowd. Harry took Hermione's hand and pulled her close as the people near looked at them smiling. A very large woman with a wide smile patted them both on the shoulders.

“Welcome to you both. Enjoy yourselves,” she beamed. She had a heavy French accent, “Don't forget to try the puinta!”

“Pweenta?” Harry asked.

“No…no,” the woman laughed, “Poo-een-ta! It's a local drink made from fruit. It's very good. We use it for celebrations such as this. But be careful…” she smiled as she danced in place.

“Careful?” Hermione asked.

“Oui,” the lady smiled, “Too much puinta can make you silly!” She cackled loudly as she spun away from them dancing in circles.

Harry and Hermione looked at one-another ginning. As he looked into her sparkling brown eyes he found himself becoming lost in them.

As they danced and moved together he pulled her body close and held her. Her warmth and the sheer magnetism consumed his attention. The people all dressed in brightly colored dresses and shirts seemed to fade into the background as the music swept them away.

Hermione was feeling it too - The all-consuming strength of Harry's presence was almost overwhelming as he pulled her close. She pressed her soft warm lips to the side of his neck as she allowed him to move them around the dance floor. She didn't care how they looked or if their dancing was any good or not. It didn't matter. She felt her love for this boy becoming as strong as an industrial strength binding charm.

They had no idea it was even happening. They were so lost in one-another they had not noticed the others around them began moving away and staring in wide-eyed wonder at the young foreign couple dancing in the center of the shelter floor oblivious to all around them but each other.

When Hermione finally noticed the wide empty space that had opened up between them and the pressing crowd she saw they were all standing quite still gawking at them. Some of the older women were chuckling, speaking to one-another in hushed tones behind their hands. A few of the younger children were tugging on their mother's or father's garments and pointing.

It was then Hermione realized she and Harry were surrounded in a bright blue swirling mist filled with silvery sparking light. It swirled in a spiral up from the floor and drifted in tendrils along the ceiling of the shelter in every direction.

“Erm…Harry,” she whispered in her ear.

“Hmm,” Harry looked down at her with peaceful dreamy eyes.

“I…erm…think we're attracting a bit too much…err…attention,” She pressed herself even closer to Harry's body as if trying to hid inside him. Her face had gone bright crimson.

When Harry finally snapped back to attention he saw what was going on. It was then the bright blue sparkling mist dissipated and they were left standing there looking like two deer caught in the bright headlights of an approaching vehicle.

It was the rotund woman who had first spoke to them when they first started dancing who approached them with a very bright and surprisingly knowing smile on her plump lips. She wrapped her ample arms around them both laughing loudly. She first kissed Harry on the cheek then Hermione in turn.

“It is obvious to all,” she said. She then released the two of them and turned to the gaping crowd, “These two were made for one-another! It is love as true as the Heavens above and they have been touched by the Creator with his blessings!”

The entire crowd exploded with applause and joyous shouting and laughter.

A very relieved Harry and Hermione were then pressed in a crush of well-wishers and friendly faces. The celebration continued with even more happiness.

Still blushing slightly Hermione pulled a rather bewildered Harry to the side near where the impromptu band was playing.

“Harry,” Hermione asked wide-eyed, “What in Merlin's ghost was that?”

“You're asking me?” He replied glancing around. He shrugged, “I've no idea. I think I need a drink!”

Moments later had both of them holding glasses full of a light pink colored liquid with unmistakable bits of fruit pulp floating through it. When Harry sipped it the flavors of several different fruits exploded in his mouth making his lips pucker at the tartness.

“Wow, that's really good!”

Hermione couldn't help but grin at him as she took a sip of her own. She squealed slightly as she took a sip. When the initial shock of the strong citrus tang subsided she knew at once what the slight after-taste was - Alcohol!

Oh my!

She was about to warn Harry to drink with care when he tossed back the entire glass full and handed it back to the smiling dark-skinned man for a refill. He looked at Hermione suppressing a long belch as best he could smacking his lips with unfettered delight.

“Erm, Harry. I'd be careful if I were you…” She was about to explain why when he waved off her warning with a toss of his hand.

“It's alright Hermione,” he grinned, “We're here to have fun yes?”

A little over an hour later she realized Harry was getting very `silly' as the large woman had said earlier that evening. She decided to take charge and began pulling him away from the celebration. The festivities seemed to be winding down anyway.

The little band stopped playing putting their instruments away and most of the adults began gathering in groups talking. The large woman bid them a jovial goodnight as they made their way back to the resort.

By the time they reached the entrance to the resort hotel Harry was trying to recall the song Ron and Seamus had taught him about `Ladies in short skirts with no knickers doing high kicks' or something like that. Hermione thought she should have been mortified but he was butchering it so badly it only made her laugh.

When they reached the door of their room Harry leaned against it smiling down at her with a look of pure love and desire on his slightly inebriated face.

“I love you Hermione,” he whispered, reaching up and cupping her face gently, letting his thumb caress the apple of her cheek, “I love you with all my heart. Tonight was…was…”

He looked in her eyes lost in his own mind searching for the right word when Hermione's soft whisper cut through the slight imaginary haze hovering around his buzzing head.

“Magic…Harry…It was magic and I love you too.”

They fell together kissing one-another with such intense passion it could have set the entire hallway ablaze. Hermione knew they needed to get control of their strange run-away magic before they did some real damage but she was stumped as to how to go about it. That bothered her much more than she was willing to admit.

They separated gasping.

“Merlin Harry,” she whispered, “You're bloody dangerous with those lips of yours you know.”

He laughed loudly. Hermione reached up covering his mouth gently shushing him.

“You'll wake the whole resort…oh let's go in before we're arrested or something!” She was grinning when she said it.

Hermione was completely enchanted with this Harry who seemed to sprout from within him almost overnight. He was charming and witty, passionate and confident and it was almost impossible to resist him.

She pushed a still-chuckling Harry into the room backwards gripping his shirt with a tight fist so he wouldn't fall over. He really wasn't that dunk but she wasn't taking any chances.

Once inside Hermione reached to flip on the light but Harry, with a rather devious grin on his face reached out and flipped the light right off again. He then reached out and pulled his beautiful and sexy little witch into a tight embrace kissing her with as much heated passion as he could muster in his present state.

Hermione could do nothing more than allow him letting her arms fall limply at her sides as Harry kissed her into complete submission. He could have done anything he wanted to her at that moment and she would have been powerless to stop him. The realization both thrilled and frightened her at the same time. There was something else she was certain of at that moment…

“I want you Harry,” she whispered into his lips, “I want you so badly!”

Her own forwardness shocked her. She thought maybe the fruity alcoholic brew was having an effect on her as well but as she proceeded to unbutton his shirt and practically tear it of his body as they worked their way to the bedroom she didn't really care.

She was throbbing with need again, coming upon her almost as quickly as turning off the lights.

A cool stiff breeze blew through the open French doors as Harry kissed as much of Hermione's warm soft skin as he could get his mouth on. The power of her taste and heat and scent was even more intoxicating than the drink he had earlier.

The slight chill caused goose flash to rise all over Hermione's heinously sensitive skin. The breathless moan that escaped her throat made Harry throb almost painfully. Her breath came in heaving panting gasps as Harry's hungry mouth captured her swelling nipple. He sucked gently feeling it harden against his tongue…another gasping moan sent a shuddering tingle through his entire body.

“Yes Harry,” Hermione hissed, “I want you inside me please!”

Her heated breathless plea was enough to make him obey. He crawled above her and without any subtlety or inexperienced hesitation he drove himself into her warm, tight and very moist body in one smooth motion.

Hermione's threw her head back pressing it deep into the mattress and let out a deep guttural growling scream.

“OH YES HARRY,” she growled through gritted teeth.

Harry looked down to see the muscles in her neck tight, her eyes closed tightly and teeth clenched as he drove himself into her again picking up the pace, moving even faster. She was gripping his upper arms like she might fall if she let go as her slender hips rose off the bed to meet Harry's pounding downward thrusts.

On an on Harry rode his lovely, sexy little witch as she exploded in muscle-twisting, bone-snapping climax after climax. Hermione was completely lost in a swirling hurricane of sensual bliss and mind-numbing orgasmic release and she found herself wishing it would never end.

After what seemed like hours of Harry's relentless assault on her heaving sweaty body she could feel him swell inside her. With an almost animal-like growling cry Harry's loins tightened and he could feel himself about to let go.

“Hermione!” He cried out still slamming his hips against her gushing sweaty bottom.

“Give it to me Harry,” she growled as she tightened her grip on his arms, “I want all of you! GIVE IT TO ME NOW!”

The sound of her own demanding voice shocked her but as the first hot jet of semen filled her she let go of his arms slapping the bed as she gathered up as much of the comforter in her clenching fists as she could. She knew she was about to have an earth-shattering climax and she wanted to anchor herself to something so she didn't throw them both completely off the bed.

Harry couldn't believe how intense this girl beneath him had become. Her taste and scent - the heat coming off her sweat-soaked tanned body was more than he could take. He let himself be consumed in the sheer power that was her. He slammed into her hard as he felt himself let go.

The inebriating effects of the drink was completely gone now and he was well aware that he could burst into flames at any moment and burn to ashes loosing himself inside this amazingly sensual girl's incredible body, mind and spirit.

Whatever was happening between them was so much larger than both. It was pure and real and stronger than any force in the universe. It was a true love of the rarest kind, unyielding, unbending with a devotion that could even span the chasm between life and death itself.

As they both lay there in the afterglow of their second time making love. It was even more intense than the first but this time Hermione had wisely placed wards around the room so as not to damage anything further.

Hermione lay in Harry's arms, her head cradled in the crook of his arm.

Her finger idly traced small circles on the sweat covering his chest. Harry notices she looked very far away staring off into the night sky out the open sliding glass doors to the balcony.

“Thinking about your parents?” Harry asked in a whisper.

Hermione glanced up at him with a rather sad smile but shook her head slightly.

“No actually,” she whispered in reply, “at least not at the moment.”

Harry looked down at her for a long time but decided not to enquire further. He felt completely at peace and content and he didn't want to do anything to ruin it. As he lay there lost in thought Hermione shifted slightly to look up into his sleepy eyes.

At first she wasn't sure she wanted to share her thoughts with Harry. She too was feeling things that at first were exciting and thrilling but now in the aftermath were a bit difficult to categorize in her overly-regimented mind.

She was convinced what she felt for this boy was real and true…and she knew why. It was time to finally admit it to herself. Sharing her thoughts with him felt only right. He deserved to know the truth.

“Harry I have a confession to make,” She said softly, looking at her hands for a moment.

Harry stiffened. When Hermione said things like that she usually followed with dropping a bomb right in the middle of his forehead.

Hermione could sense his tension. She knew he was afraid of what she might say and didn't know what she was about to tell him would make him feel better or just cause him more confusion. It was too late now though…

“I think I've been in love with you from the day I met you on the Hogwarts Express. Maybe even before that though I'm not quite sure…I was just a little girl then.”

Harry was expecting her confession to contain a potentially explosive revelation…but that wasn't it…at all!

He was stunned beyond speech or rational thought. As the words echoed around in his head for a few moments the implications of what she was saying finally landed on him…but so did a multitude of questions that all crowded the front of his brain at once. Sorting out the most important to know first was difficult.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He kept his voice soft and low so as not to cause her any unnecessary stress. He knew she could sense his surprise. No one else was so closely tuned to his emotions and moods as she was but she said nothing, perhaps waiting for him to come to terms with her revelation.

He chose his words carefully for the first time in his life. This was important. It needed to be handled just right. It wasn't something to just bulldoze through with annoyance and discord and he had learned long ago that had been a large part of Ron's problem. Ron had no tact. Neither did Harry but he was learning…slowly.

“I see,” he whispered, “and when did you come to this conclusion if you don't mind my asking?” It sounded almost snobbish and trite but she didn't seem to take offense to his question at all. In fact, she seemed to give it serious consideration judging from the concentration on her face.

“To be perfectly honest I think it was at the beginning of our sixth year. I'm sure it was nothing more than an acknowledgment of my physical attraction to you…”

Harry was stunned again but did not interrupt.

“I mean, after all Harry, you and Ron hit some sort of unnatural growth spurt or something, I'm not sure but you were just…well…” her thoughts seem to trail off with her voice for a moment but then she snapped back to the present, “I don't know…so much more put together than ever before. I wasn't the only one who noticed you know.” She smirked up at him.

As he sat there hearing this he was suddenly filled with a bit of self-righteous indignation. He shifted to face her more squarely.

“Then what was all that rubbish about trying to get me to notice other girls like Cho and Ginny and all that?”

“Oh Harry don't you understand?” She said with lips pursed slightly, “It was because I wanted you to be happy. It didn't matter to me where that happiness came from I just wanted you to be able to feel...normal for as long as our insane lives would allow it.”

“I guess I realized early on you didn't really look at me like you did other girls. I knew why but I guess there were times when I just wished you would look at me the way you looked at Cho or Ginny or the way Ron looked at Madam Rosmerta or the mermaid in the Prefects bath.”

“Part of me didn't really care but then there was another part that…longed for it sometimes I suppose, even though I refused to admit it.”

“When neither you nor Ron asked me to the Yule Ball it hurt me…much more than I was willing to admit to myself at the time. It was as if I was invisible to both of you that way.”

“Is that why you went with Viktor?” Harry asked softly.

“I suppose that was part of the reason. The other was that I guess I just didn't want to be left out and Viktor was a convenient excuse. Beside,” she flashed a devious little grin, “I knew it would drive Ronald spare. A little payback for that whole Lavender Brown thing I suppose. Quite juvenile of me I'll admit, stooping to his level.”

“Well, you hit the mark on that score,” Harry chuckled, “Believe it or not I was happy for you.”

“I do believe you,” Hermione said laying her hand softly on his chest, “and I think that's why it wasn't so difficult to look past things like that when it came to you because you wanted me to be happy as well.”

Harry nodded.

“So you were secretly crazy about me before you came to Hogwarts? How did that work? You'd never even met me before.”

Hermione laughed. It was a real laugh and it sent a tingling thrill down Harry's already sweating spine.

“It wasn't you so much as it was the idea of you.”

“Huh?” Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion, “Sorry for being a bit thick but I'm not sure I get it.”

“Oh for the love of Merlin Harry, think about it?” She stared at him grinning, “Here I was a pure Muggle-born girl about to enter the world of magic reading about the famous Boy-Who-Lived in wizard books and publications. I guess you captured my imagination. You were larger than life to me then like a Muggle actor or…I can't believe I'm admitting this…Gildaroy Lockhart.”

She made a face that caused Harry to crack up.

“Well!” She looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, “I was just an impressionable little girl then!”

“Hermione,” Harry smiled, “You've never been an impressionable anything.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“To be honest I really thought you'd be more like Draco Malfoy than anything, this spoiled, pampered snot that everyone treated special and only got by because he was famous. Oh was I going to show you a thing or two.”

“That was one reason why I studied so hard to become proficient in first year magic and what drove me to learn as much as I could…”

“What!” That revelation stunned Harry, “You mean you turned yourself into a know-it-all just to show me up?”

“No, of course not Harry,” Hermione smirked again, “I've always been a bossy little bookworm. I think it was genetic, passed down from my mother's side of the family I'm not sure but I wanted to show the Great Harry Potter what real knowledge and hard work could accomplish,” all mirth and playfulness was suddenly gone, “and then I actually met you.”

A look of sadness washed over her beautiful face so profound it caused Harry to sit up. She looked as if she was about to start crying.

“What Hermione,” He asked gently as he pulled her into his arms.

“You were nothing like I had imagined,” she whispered sadly.

“Yah,” Harry replied a bit darkly, “I must have been a real disappointment to someone as smart and clever as you. I couldn't even mend my own glasses.”

“What…no!” Hermione sat up staring at him intently, “No Harry that's not what I meant at all. What I discovered that day on the train was that you were…a lot like me.”

Her voice trailed off as her mind went back to that day she had met the famous Harry Potter then after she had returned to her compartment and began realizing the truth trying to come to grips with her miscalculation of judgment where he was concerned. It had been a bitter pill to swallow then and it wasn't much better reliving her narrow-minded thinking.

“A lot like you?” Harry scoffed, “Hermione I'm nowhere near…”

But she placed her fingers gently on his lips to silence his protest.

“I realized we weren't that much different when it came to fitting into a world were neither of us really belonged…at least not initially. I came to realize that once I got to know you better. We were misfits…oddities everyone else looked at like we were exhibits in a freak show. You more than I once Voldemort decided to re-emerge from the dead.”

“Neither of us had any friends and most of the time people treated us like we were contagious or something.”

“I know it might sound a bit crazy but I think that might have been why I thought I felt something for Ron. Here he was this pure blood wizard bloke. It was like he was immune or maybe just a bit too thick to notice, I'm not sure which but then we both know how that turned out in the end don't we? At least for me.”

“I tried to remain immune to your notoriety myself for a time, thinking it was nothing more than the wizard worlds way of explaining your survival and having a sacrificial lamb to rally itself around. I think it was after we started our D.A. meetings when I finally realized you really were the real thing…Somehow I knew inside you would succeed.”

“I just convinced myself if I followed you and tried to help in any way I could we would get through it somehow. It didn't hurt that one of the greatest and most respected wizards of all time believed in you as well.”

She smiled so brightly at him he could feel his heart skip wildly all over his chest.

“And guess what…we were right.”

Harry smirked as he reached out gently taking her by the chin, then pulled her to him.

“You just love being right all the time don't you?”

She just shrugged a shoulder as she leaned into a steamy kiss that made his bones turn to liquid.

Great Caesar's ghost! If I only knew then what I know now…

As she curled into Harry's lap and laid her head on his chest she could hear the strong pounding of his heart.

“All I know Harry,” she whispered as she began drifted into a peaceful slumber, “to lose you would have been a fate worse than death for all of us.”

He couldn't resist…

“Or worse…expelled!”

Hermione swatted his shoulder playfully then chuckled.

“You're never going to let me live that one down are you?” She asked smiling.

“Not in this lifetime Granger,” Harry sighed.

Physical exhaustion and the cool evening breeze lulled them both into a peaceful dreamless sleep clinging to one-another in the darkness of their own private paradise.

-->

23. Chapter Twenty Three - Discoveries

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Two

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Twenty-Three: Discoveries

Hermione sat on her lounger, the back rest in the upright position so she could prop her book on her knees and read while she sunned. Harry had opted to lay a towel on the sand beside her. It was a ritual they had developed since the second day on the island.

Harry had told her he loved feeling the sand beneath him, warm and soft. It was something completely new to him and he reveled in all the new sensations he was experiencing.

Even at the urging, begging and pleading from Harry, Hermione had opted not to wear her new swim suit Harry had bought her since that first time. She still couldn't quite get over the reaction and unwanted attention it had caused so she opted for one of her more conservative one-piece suits. It was white with the British flag printed on it.

Harry knew it made no difference what kind of swimsuit she wore. She was gorgeous and would attract attention no matter what she put on.

As Harry lay back on his towel beside her propped on his elbows watching people swim and others riding wind surf boards skittering across the calm water of the shallow bay, he glanced sideways at her.

She had laid her book aside and stretched her lithe, tanned body along the length of the lounger with one leg drawn up and arms tossed carelessly over the back of the chair.

He couldn't help but think how incredibly beautiful and sexy she looked. He couldn't help but suddenly wish the sun was gone and they were back in their suite again. He closed his eyes remembering what her body felt like pressed against his. He recalled the heat and sweat and the intense smell of her when she had her powerful orgasms.

Hermione noticed Harry staring off into space. She knew he was probably trying to process and come to terms with what was happening between them. Things had changed dramatically for both of them over the past week but she sat there in the warm sun looking at Harry so relaxed and…

And what…Happy? Content?

He turned and smiled at her as if he could feel her eyes on him even through her dark sunglasses. It was a smile that told her so much but seemed to be touched with a hint of something she couldn't quite recognize.

Was it fear?

“Sixpence for your thoughts Harry,” Hermione asked smiling warmly at him. She reached out and let her fingers play in his constantly unsettled hair. Even the most industrial strength Muggle hair care products couldn't make his hair behave.

It was almost embarrassing for him to get caught thinking about her naked body so he wanted to drag his mind away from that as quickly as possible.

“I was just thinking about what was going on back home,” he lied.

Hermione face seemed to darken slightly when he said it.

Harry mentally kicked himself. He suddenly realized it would have been much better if he had told the truth. She had not thought about or talked about her parents in days and she had been much more relaxed as a result. Now he had practically dragged her right back into those depressing thoughts. He frantically groped for a way to distract her.

“I was just wondering if all the barmy Golden Trio nonsense has died down yet.”

“I wouldn't worry about it Harry. You're just going to have to accept you are now an even more famous wizard and learn to live with it. I'm sure Ron's little book is doing as much as anything to fan the flames.”

Harry said nothing. As far as he knew Hermione had not even looked at Ron's book yet and had no intention of doing so. He wasn't about to tell her he had read some of it and had to admit Ron was telling the truth about nothing but the facts. He also had to admit the old hag Skeeter did a pretty good job of describing things.

“I really didn't think his memoirs would be all that popular but I guess I was wrong,” Harry said.

“I'm not sure how much actual memoir there is amongst all the speculation, innuendo, half-truths and rubbish.” Hermione quipped.

“You think so?” Harry sighed, “You're probably right. I can see her Quick-Quotes quill dancing feverishly across the parchment embellishing every word. Do you think you'll ever read it?”

Hermione just shrugged her shoulder.

“I can't believe he actually had the stones to do something like that…” Hermione began to say but then caught herself, “never mind…Actually, I can.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh, thankful his devious little distraction worked.

Hermione rolled over on her side to face him with a sudden thought.

“You know Harry,” she said with a wide smile, “You should write your own book. I mean really, think about it. If the Wizard world is clamoring to know what really happened who better to hear it from then the person who was right in the middle of it all. There would be no question about the facts, that's for certain!”

“You were in the middle of it just as I was Hermione,” Harry blanched at the thought, “and besides, I'm no writer. That's more your department.”

“Nonsense Harry,” Hermione's eyebrows pinched together. She didn't like it when he put himself down like that. “You're very intelligent. You just need to have a little faith in your own abilities. Besides,” she grinned her heart-stopping little crooked smile, “I could be your editor. We could make Ronald Bilius Weasley and his ghost writer look like a couple of third-rate Society column hacks.”

Harry laughed, “I don't know Hermione. I'd have to sit down and try to remember everything we've been through and that's plenty yah? I'm not sure if I would even want to.” He paused for a moment then added, “I'd probably need a pensive for that. I wonder if McGonagall would let me use Dumbledore's old one. Can you buy those things?”

As Harry said those last words the gears and cogs inside Hermione's brain began whirring and spinning until they all finally meshed into place with an inaudible clank! The memories of the night they removed her parent's identities and installed the alternate ones filled her thoughts. She sat bolt upright in her lounger yanking off her sunglasses.

“What did you say Harry!” She whispered.

He glanced up at her. Her face was frozen with eyes wide. Her expression was that of utter surprise and shock. He started to become a bit alarmed.

“Wha…what do you mean…about what?” Harry asked.

In the next second she was on her feet, pacing the sand in front of their spot on the beach, fingers on her bottom lip mumbling to herself.

Harry lurched to his feet as well, “What is it Hermione?”

She flung her hands at him as if she was trying to shoo him away. She kept pacing, looking at the sand lost in the depths of her brilliant mind. Then suddenly she stopped. She turned abruptly and looked at Harry, eyes wide again.

“THAT'S IT!” She yelled.

It made Harry jump. The few people within ear shot all looked up at them.

“What Hermione, for Merlin's sake!” Harry asked. He was beginning to get a bit panicky now.

“Don't you see Harry? That's the answer. It has to be!”

“Erm…” Harry didn't see.

“The pensive…the pensive,” she was rowing her arms now, trying to get the thoughts to come out of her head, “My parents memories were placed into Dumbledore's pensive before Professor McGonagall put them into the vials! I'll be willing to bet it has something to do with the fact they are pure Muggle with no magic ability at all! That must be the answer! Storing my parent's memories in a magical device did…did something to them - but what?”

She was lost in though again, staring out across the bay not really seeing anything.

Harry stood watching her lost in his own thoughts about the pensive. He remembered watching Dumbledore pull memories from his temple with his wand and drop them into the magical bowl. The bright blue vaporous stream swirled on the misty surface for a moment then blended in with the rest of the murky substance that filled the device.

“You think your parent's memories got damaged somehow while they were in the Pensive?” Harry asked not really understanding how that could happen but not really understanding how the pensive actually worked either. “Who had access to it while the memories were in there?”

Hermione forced herself to focus on his words.

“No-one,” she replied, “I was there when the memories were extracted. McGonagall placed them into the pensive one at a time. She extracted each one only minutes after they were put there. She said she didn't want to take any chances while transferring the memories from mind to vial - just in case…”

“Just in case of what?” Harry asked.

Hermione's head snapped toward him.

“That's a bloody good question?” Hermione replied. Her face became set with a look of utter concentration and determination. She continued pacing.

“Normally when one stores a memory in the pensive it's only a small portion or single strand of that person's thoughts. With my parents…”

“It was their whole identity,” Harry finished the thought for her, “It was everything that made them who they are, right?”

That statement made Hermione come to a dead stop again. She stiffened for a moment then bolted to her lounger and started gathering up her things quickly.

“I need to send McGonagall an owl at once Harry!” She said almost breathlessly, “I think I have an idea of what happened to my parent's memories.”

“Hermione,” Harry interjected as he bent to snatch his towel off the sand and slip into his sandals, “Didn't you tell me this place was mostly Muggle. Where are we going to find an owl?”

Hermione was half way back to the hotel by the time Harry looked up. Even in the face of this sudden possible breakthrough he couldn't help but smirk. Even dressed down in what Hermione had considered a conservative one-piece swim suit almost every bloke on the beach turned to watch her incredibly slender body and delectable bum swish and twitch its way back across the sand.

Back in their suite, Hermione got out a quill, ink and parchment and set them on the computer desk in the sitting room. They had determined it would be necessary to summon a postal owl from the Ministry in order to send her message.

She told Harry to find a secluded location and quickly instructed him on how to send a request charm to summon an owl.

“Have you ever done this before Hermione?” Harry asked.

“No - not really,” she admitted.

So neither knew if it would work or how long it would take for a postal owl to arrive.

“Why not just send your patronus?” Harry inquired.

“Too much information to convey through a patronus Harry,” she replied, “and I think the distance might be a bit too great anyway.”

Without any further delay Harry found a spot in some trees across the narrow road that ran in front of the resort and sent the summoning charm.

Back in the suite Hermione feverishly poured over the letter to the Headmistress, her hand flying across the parchment. When she finally looked up the sun was settling into its warm bath in the ocean on the western horizon. She had written seventeen pages.

While she was attempting to fold her letter and stuff it into a very uncooperative envelope Harry spotted three small specks appear out of the deep orange, bright crimson and gold of the setting sun.

As the three owls came closer Harry watched them swoop in low over the bay, wings spread wide gliding like fixed-winged aircraft pointed straight at the hotel in a “V” formation. He could see a few people walking down on the beach looking up…some pointing at the odd sight.

“Bugger Hermione,” Harry said as he backed into the wide open French doors to their bed chamber, “Three of them coming in fast. They didn't even wait till it was dark!”

“What did you say in your request Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I just said we needed an owl A.S.A.P. That's all, I swear!”

She realized the how's and why's were really not all that important at the moment as she managed to smash the last pages into the over-stuffed envelope. She had to put three wax seals on it to keep it closed but was relatively satisfied with her work.

When the three owls reached the balcony they pulled up short and landed lightly on the railing that surrounded the outer edge of the overlook. The owl in the center was a large barn owl. The other two were much smaller in size. They looked exhausted.

Harry moved to the bathroom and filled three glasses with water. He then carried them and set them on the floor of the balcony so the owls could get a drink. All three hopped off the railing and settled in front of the water drinking gratefully.

“We don't have any t-r-e-a-t-s for them do we?” Harry spelled out asking Hermione.

The big barn owl glanced up at Harry with a doleful look.

Well…apparently postal owls can spell! Who'da thought?

“Wait!” Hermione said holding up her hand.

She made her way over to the small table she and Harry had eaten room service on a few times. There was a small basket that contained many different types of crackers and biscuits she had decided to keep in case she got the munchies. She fished around in the basket until she produced several packages of Melba toast. They were rather dark, crunchy biscuits that looked like little slices of bread. Hermione didn't really care for them but she had to admit they felt and smelled much more like actual owl treats than any of the others.

She opened one package, broke the two little slices into smaller pieces and put them into a crystal candy dish she swiped from a small table at the entry door filled with small round pieces of multi-colored glass.

When she sat the crumpled biscuits down in front of the owls the big one turned its huge eyes up to her as if to ask, `What are we supposed to do with this mess?'

He hopped forward and sniffed the dish. The big owl snatched a piece of the toast and crunched it in his beak. The two smaller owls watched as the big one chewed and swallowed. He just stood there for a moment as if trying to decide if he liked the stuff or not.

The next moment had the big barn owl pecking furiously at the candy dish while trying to keep the other two from getting any of the toast.

Hermione glared at the big barn owl, “Well that's not very sporting of you now is it…big bully!”

Harry gave Hermione an exasperated look then moved to provide the smaller owls with their own portions.

“I guess they really like that stuff,” Hermione chuckled incredulously as she watched all three devour the treats.

“I've never even heard of Melba toast!” Harry said, “What is it made from anyway?”

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders. That was the last thing on her mind.

When they had eaten half their supply of the Melba toast and drank a majority of the water Hermione was becoming impatient.

“All right, I think you've had quite enough,” Hermione finally said in a huff. While Harry removed the cups and dishes Hermione tied her tome-sized letter to the big barn owls leg but after she was finished all three owls just stood there unmoving looking at her with their huge unblinking eyes.

Harry came up behind her to look at the owls over her shoulder.

“Why are you just standing there you silly things?” Hermione growled, “Off with you!”

Harry looked at all the empty biscuit wrappers lying on the table next to the basket. He got an idea.

“Hermione do you have a small pouch or some type of draw-string bag?”

“What?” She asked confused, “Why?”

“I have an idea,” Harry replied.

They couldn't find a small bag like Harry had asked for so he took a rather large handkerchief and transfigured it, crushed up the remainder of the little pieces of Melba toast in it and attached it to one of the smaller owl's legs.

When he was finished they stood back. The owls hopped up onto the railing and took off into the night sky without a hoot or a backward glance.

Hermione just stared after them with a look of bemused confusion on her face.

“So enlighten me `O' Cleverest Witch of Her Age?' What took you seventeen pages to tell McGonagall?” Harry asked as he drew her into his arms and kissed her gently on her warm, soft lips.

Oh…two can play this little game Potter!

With that thought Hermione pulled him to her sliding her arms tightly around his body intensifying the kiss. She forced his lips apart with her insistent tongue and hers swirled together with his in what quickly turned into an intensely heated exchange.

When Hermione's mouth left his Harry's brain would have normally been fried beyond rational thought but he was slowly becoming wise to her tactics. Her kisses still left him tingling all over though but he was not to be denied.

“Why Miss Granger,” Harry smile wryly, “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Parish the thought Mr. Potter,” she chuckled.

Hermione couldn't help but be completely charmed and disarmed by that. The wide-eyed Boy Who Lived from the Hogwarts Express was gone completely now.

For now, though, she gently pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind.

“I have a theory Harry,” Hermione began as she towed him out onto the balcony. They both settled into the cushioned chairs and she began to tell him what she had concluded as a result of their conversation on the beach earlier.

“This is probably going to sound insane and I have absolutely no evidence to back up this theory but I think my parent's memories were somehow damaged or…altered while in the pensive.”

“How?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Hermione responded, “That's the question isn't it? What strikes us as so odd is that they know who they are. My mum and dad know they are Edward and Daphne and they know who I am for the most part but there are holes or gaps in their memories that seem completely random in nature. It's as if their memories became - fragmented or something. That's what has made this all so infuriating because there's no logical reason for it. Even using the pensive theory doesn't explain how it happened.”

“So do you think if you put their memories back into the pensive they would repair themselves?” Harry asked.

Hermione sat lost in thought for a moment.

“That or simply make them even worse,” Hermione replied glumly, “I'm not sure if I'm ready to take that kind of chance, at least not without a bit more concrete evidence.”

“You know,” Harry asked, “I've never even thought much about it before but how does a pensive work? I've seen Dumbledore use it of course but have never even begun to understand it.”

“Well you've had more exposure to the pensive than I have Harry and again I only have my own theories and what I've read about them to go on.”

“In order to understand how the pensive works is to have a specific knowledge of that magical theory and a thorough understanding of how the human mind works, neither of which I profess to be an expert in, however if I had to take an educated guess it would be that the innate physical properties of human thought are nothing more than the controlled firing of synapses of the brain. Those are made up of a combination of the firing of small electrical pulses and some chemical reactions thus producing a stimulation of a particular region of the brain and in turn stimulating the central nervous system to produce what we perceive as a conscious, or in some cases, unconscious thought. You following me so far?”

Harry gave her a look that suggested she had suddenly begun speaking in a foreign language. She chuckled but pressed on deciding she would probably only serve to confuse him even more if she tried to clarify.

“It obvious by using a bit of magic a memory, or conscious thought can be extracted from our brain. Just exactly what that thought consists of or is made from is a complete mystery to me and might just be the missing key to the discovery of what happened to my parent's memories. It's almost as if their memories began to brake down, possibly as a result of a chemical reaction to what ever resides in the pensive that makes it a container of conscious thought. Again, I'm not sure. These are only guesses.”

“One of the things I suggested to McGonagall in my letter was to take a single memory from one of my parents and place it back into the pensive. I'm hoping if any of the fragmented pieces still exist within the device they will be able to identify its memory stream somehow and we can extract them with some type of spell or I'm hoping like will attract like in this case.”

“So you're hoping that memory will call to the pieces left behind?” Harry asked not even trying to understand the rest of what she had said.

“Exactly,” Hermione grimaced, “It's a long shot but it's all we've got at present.”

“Have faith Hermione,” Harry smiled taking her hand, “You might just get lucky.”

Hermione smiled sadly, “I could do with a spot of luck.” Her expression changed from that to slight disappointment.

“Harry,” she whispered, “I really hate to ask this of you but I was wondering if you would be terribly upset if we were to cut our holiday short. I realize this is something we both needed but in light of this new possibility…”

Harry stood so abruptly it made Hermione set back a bit.

“Don't be daft! I understand completely,” Harry reached for her hand, “We're not packed yet?”

With a huge smile Hermione threw herself into his arms and kissed him so thoroughly it left him dizzy. The look she gave him when they separated made his heart pinch. He could see it in her blazing eyes even before she said the words…

“I am completely, hopelessly and utterly in love with you Harry Potter!”

-->

24. Chapter 24 - Return

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - (Part Two)

Standard Disclaimers Apply...

Chapter Twenty-Three; Return

The flight back from Tahiti was long but seemed to pass quickly. Both Harry and Hermione slept for the most part.

The jump from Paris to London was quick but tedious and they wasted no time apparating from Heathrow to St. Mungo's.

Even thought they had both slept jet lag and the severe time change seemed to be pulling at their edges as Harry followed a rather anxious Hermione into the Spell Damage Ward.

When they turned the corner of the hallway leading to her parent's room they pulled up short.

The hallway was filled with people. They recognized a few of the Healers who were assigned to look after the Grangers. They also recognized some of the Oblivators and Hermione had seen a few of the Unspeakables but huddled in a tight group were several odd looking, very oddly dressed men who seemed to be carrying on a rather lively and animated conversation. They were talking a bit loudly with much gesticulation of hands, arms and heads.

Minerva McGonagall was right in the midst of them trying to shush them as best she could. When the Headmistress spotted Harry and Hermione at the end of the hall she broke rank with the strange group and made her way toward them.

Harry and Hermione moved forward to meet her half way but when they came together the old Professor didn't seem the least bit concerned. Quite the contrary, she looked elated.

“I'm so glad you're here,” she said in a rush of excitement, her hands clasped in front of her. (It was completely out of her character.) “I have the most wonderful news.”

Hermione was about to burst if she wasn't allowed to ask the questions plaguing her mind the entire trip home. McGonagall picked up on her angst at once.

“You have questions Ms. Granger, I'm sure?”

“Yes…Sorry Headmistress…”

“Quite alright,” McGonagall replied with a weary smile, “Perfectly understandable. Go right ahead young lady.”

“Did you understand what I wrote in my letter explaining what my theory was?”

“Certainly,” McGonagall nodded with a slight grin, “You were quite explicit and detailed as always Ms. Granger.”

“And did you apply the test I recommended?”

“Indeed,” McGonagall was still grinning, “And the subsequent reintroduction of the test memories back into the Pensive revealed absolutely no results…” she paused to take a breath.

In that moment Hermione's face fell and it looked to Harry like someone had suddenly set a full grown Mountain Troll on her shoulders, but to their surprise McGonagall was still grinning. She continued…

“However, one of the…erm…Specialists,” McGonagall waved a hand toward the strange group of men still huddled in a circle talking, “decided to attach a simple repairing charm to the memory and after a few moments the most incredible thing occurred. We watched as what could only be described as small fragments of thought re-attach themselves to the fragmented memory stream,” McGonagall was beaming now, “You're suggestions and theories were spot on young lady, with a slight creative adjustment!”

The pride in McGonagall's face made even Harry smile.

Cleverest Witch of her Age doesn't even begin to describe this girl!

Hermione looked a bit surprised but there was still worry in her eyes. McGonagall kept speaking.

“The most amazing coincidence occurred while you were away and I discovered it completely by accident.”

“I was glancing at the latest edition of the Prophet when I came across an article describing a Conference that was to take place here in London over a week's time beginning two day ago. I must say I was absolutely stunned to discover it was to be a Healer's Conference and Healers from all over the world would be attending.”

“Needless to say I knew I must find a way to attend the Conference and attempt to gain an interview with the Board of Healers as quickly as possible. I was absolutely convinced they would be able to assist us with the problem with your parents.”

“Much to my dismay, however, I discovered the location of the Conference was a closely guarded secret, for reasons I do not even begin to fathom but as it was, I was forced to…erm, how does the saying go…pull a few strings to get the information I needed.”

“Well, really all that was required was a meeting with the Minister and that was that! After I managed to convince the Board to allow me to speak on your parent's behalf let's just say they were only too eager to assist.”

McGonagall's pointed stare was meant to be part light-hearted and part mischievous. They had never seen the Headmistress so casually animated and excited.

“The gentlemen behind me are a few representatives from the Conference of Healers and they have been assisting us ever since my rather…insistent request, however they also were at a loss for an explanation or solution until we received your remarkable letter Ms. Granger. We were all impressed with what you were able to ascertain while you were away.”

“Well, actually,” Hermione looked at the Headmistress a bit sheepishly, “Harry was the one who figured it out.”

Both McGonagall's and Harry's eyebrows all but disappeared as they gapped at her.

“Is that so?” McGonagall asked shifting her surprised gaze to Harry's bewildered face.

“What?” Harry asked, “How do you figure it Hermione? How did I…”

She cut across him.

“It was your suggestion you would need a Pensive to collect all your thoughts in when we were discussing the possibility of you writing your own book, remember?”

“Yes…b…but…” He spluttered.

“It was your comment that got my mind working in the right direction. If it wasn't for that…” She didn't want to finish her thought. Harry just smiled at her.

“Well, maybe the luck we were wishing for is coming true.”

“All things happen for a reason Mr. Potter.” McGonagall said a bit flatly, “I'm not so sure I subscribe to the fortunes of blind chance but…at this juncture, I'm also not willing to hedge my best if you understand what I'm saying?”

Hermione did. She smirked. Harry laughed amused by their old Transfiguration Professor's less-than-prim behavior.

“There's an old Muggle saying my father used to use all the time,” Hermione said fondly, “It went something like, `Never look a gift horse in the mouth.' I'm not really sure what that means exactly but it seems to apply here.”

“I think,” Harry said grinning himself now, “it's nothing more mysterious than some very smart people doing really smart things and making very smart decisions.”

Both McGonagall and Hermione turned a bit pink but the Headmistresses mouth pursed slightly at his cheek.

“Well said, Mr. Potter,” she turned to Hermione, “The Specialists are eager to meet you Ms. Granger,” she gestured over her shoulder again toward the knot of odd men.

When they moved to join them the group all stopped talking and turned to regard the two younger people as if they were examining a rather interesting exhibit or specimen. The Headmistress made the introductions quickly.

Healer Rabani al-Zipdup was a skinny, bald man with huge round glasses that gave him the strange appearance of a bug with bulging eyes. He was wearing a tight turban, sandals and what appeared to be nothing more than a large diaper. His legs looked like two toothpicks stuck in a large ball of cotton.

Healer Heimlich Glockenspiel looked ancient. He had an amazing shock of white hair that stuck out of his head in all directions. He wore a pair of hip waders as trousers complete with rubber boot but the rest of his ensemble was a formal black tuxedo coat complete with tails, cummerbund and four-in-hand tie.

Healer John Smith, from the United States, was rather young-looking and positively handsome next to this strange lot with blond hair and blue eyes but he was wearing a full-length night shirt over a pair of bright green checked pattern trousers and a pair of red cowboy boots.

Healer Alto Arpeggio was tall, dark, jet black hair slicked back over his head with a hawk-like nose. He looked like a Spanish flamenco dancer complete with a red sash and white shirt with huge puffy sleeves. Hermione, chuckling slightly, thought he looked a bit like an older version of Viktor Crum.

The last was a tiny Siamese man named Healer Hung Dong Lo. He was the least oddly dressed of them all. He wore what looked like a finely tailored business suit and looked quite normal until you looked down at his feet. He was wearing what appeared to be multi-colored bowling shoes. His eyes seemed perpetually closed.

They stood in a semi-circle eyeing Harry and Hermione with great interest when Healer Hung Dong Lo moved forward and looked up at Hermione with his squinty eyes.

“You are de young lady who sent de letter yes?” Healer Lo asked in a squeaky elfin voice.

“Erm…yes, I am,” Hermione replied.

“Brilliant!” Healer Lo said loud enough to make them jump slightly.

The rest of the Healers all nodded fervently in agreement mumbling the same word, some with hands to chin looking quite severe. It was most comical-looking.

Hermione began looking perplexed when she glanced at McGonagall who simply grinned slyly at her protégé.

“The Healers were just discussing how to apply your theory to facilitate a complete repair to your parent's memories Ms. Granger.”

“Yes,” the American Healer stepped forward, “With the success of the individual memory test brilliantly modified by Healer Glockenspiel,” he waved to the old white-haired gent who bowed slightly in response, his rubber boots making a squeaking sound on the tiled floor, “we are attempting to discern the best way to apply a similar technique to make a complete restoration.”

“Do you think it's possible?” Hermione asked expectantly wringing her hands.

“Not only is it possible young lady…” Healer Alto Arpeggio interjected.

“There is a good chance for complete success…” The Healer named Rabani al-Zipdup finished with finger pointing up in the air.

“So there's a chance it might not work,” Harry asked. He had been mostly silent until then.

Everyone turned to look at him with eyebrows raised. He wasn't going to be intimidated by a bunch of oddball Healers no matter how `brilliant' they seemed. He knew what it would do to Hermione if something else happened to her parents. It wasn't long ago she had been a different person and Harry had no desire to see her like that again.

“I'm not trying to be a `stick in the mud' mind you but it's just…I think you should be certain about this before you go mucking about with her parents memories, that's all.”

McGonagall gave Harry a stern look but there was also a twinkle in her eyes. She realized Harry was doing what came natural to him - he was protecting his best friend. She moved forward and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“I assure you Mr. Potter these gentlemen have only Hermione's parent's best interest in mind, however, you must understand with any procedure such as this there is always an element of risk involved especially when you consider we are operating in completely uncharted territory.”

“We must concur with Ms. McGonagall,” Healer Lo added, “but we are most certain we shall be able to find an effective application that will be successful.” He bowed toward Harry looking who started feeling a bit sheepish.

Hermione placed a hand softly on his arm giving him such an endearing look it made his face turn bright red. He could only nod after that.

Hermione then turned her attention back to the group of Healers.

“So how do you plan on implementing repairs?” She asked, “I'm not certain removing their memories and placing them back into the Pensive is the best course of action or at least I'm not sure I'm prepared to take that kind of risk. If placing their memories in the Pensive caused the problem to begin with then it seems to me it would only exacerbate the situation.”

“Yes Ms. Granger,” Healer Smith said, hand on chin, “I must admit it was one of the options discussed but we are in the process of determining what other possibilities might be available to us.”

“Conference gentlemen!” Healer al-Zipdup shouted with finger pointed toward the ceiling again. With that they all moved back into a huddle with heads bowed toward the center resuming their animated conversation as they were when Harry and Hermione first approached.

They gawked for a moment at the group of Healer's odd behavior.

McGonagall turned toward Harry and Hermione with another weary smile.

“Ms. Granger,” she asked, “I realize this is most likely an inappropriate time to be asking such a question but I feel compelled to inquire if you have given any further thought to returning to Hogwarts to finish your studies?”

Hermione hesitated but then made to answer when McGonagall held up a hand to stall her reply.

“I would like to offer you an incentive to return. I am prepared to offer, with the full approval of the Ministry mind you, complete freedom in course selection for your final term. You may select your own courses and set your own schedule. I am also prepared to offer you the position of Head Girl and all the rights and responsibilities that go along with such an appointment. You will have complete access to all common rooms and dormitories as well as full use of the private Head dormitory and common space.”

Hermione's mouth fell open with a look of utter shock on her face. She instantly realized that never before, in the history of Hogwarts has any student ever been offered such a thing. Not even the great Albus Dumbledore!

“Headmistress…I…I,” Hermione stammered. McGonagall held up her hand again.

“I would rather you not respond immediately. I merely ask that you give this offer fair consideration and will expect your reply before the term starts in a few weeks, is that acceptable?”

Hermione could only nod her agreement looking like she had just been confunded. McGonagall turned to Harry looking at him pointedly.

“I would bid you return as well Mr. Potter, however, Mr. Shacklebolt has enlightened me to the offer he extended to you to join his staff.”

The look on the old Headmistresses face made it very clear to Harry what she thought of that idea.

“Why don't you two go in and visit with your mother and father for a while. I'll fetch you if there is any sort of breakthrough.”

They both nodded and made their way to Hermione's parent's room. When they reached the door Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm as he reached for the door knob.

“I don't think McGonagall approves of your decision Harry and I must admit I have my reservations. Just exactly what will be involved in the program?”

He briefly told her some of the details of what Kingsley had offered him that night at Grimmuald Place. He had told her about Kingsley's proposal but had not offered details.

The look she gave him mirrored the Headmistresses but only for a brief moment then shifted to that same blank unreadable expression she had worn for the past several months.

Harry didn't know which was worse.

“I'm not going lecture Harry. I think it's time I move past all that silly nonsense,” Hermione said a bit flatly, “You're 18 now and you've earned the right to make your own decisions regarding your future. I just want you to know I love you and I'll stand behind whatever you decide.”

Harry suddenly felt his knees go weak as he looked into her eyes. He could tell without question what she had told him was the truth. He leaned close kissing her softly on the lips then whispered.

“This is why I love you back and you mean everything to me Hermione.”

Hermione's heart fluttered at those words but then gave him a playful look meant to be serious. She had to be snarky or she would break down crying.

“Oh, don't think we're done talking about this mister,” she quipped, “I want more details about this so-called special program before I put my stamp of approval on it.” She was grinning now.

Harry couldn't help but grin right back.

“Well,” he said, “I look at it this way Hermione. I've practically been doing the job of an Auror over the past seven years anyway. I might as well get paid for it…and who knows, I just might learn something.” He chuckled.

Hermione only gave him her notorious, sarcastic What-an-idiot look.

“You thinking about taking McGonagall up on her offer? Sounds spot on for you if you ask me,” Harry said.

“Oh does it?” She glared at him with a smirk crossing her arms under her chest. Harry couldn't help but look down and gaze in wonder at those two perfect mounds of… He mentally smacked himself.

Merlin's beard - I'm turning into Ron! She's made me a complete randy little…

“I must admit her offer is quite unprecedented,” Hermione said just in time, thankfully not picking up on Harry's train of thought.

“I think you should take it,” Harry said without hesitation, “I mean really Hermione, how many students do you know get to pick their own classes and have free run of the school?”

“Well,” Hermione responded by staring blankly at the door chewing on her thumb for a moment, “when you put it that way,” but then she dropped her arms looking up at him seriously, “I've got time to consider it. I've got more important things to think about at present.”

Harry nodded in understanding. They pushed through the door and went in to visit with her parents for a while.

Hermione's mother Daphne seemed quite a bit more like herself since they left for holiday (at least, according to Hermione) and it eased some of her anxiety a little. Her father still seemed a bit befuddled by many things but they hoped the Healers could help find a solution.

Several hours later McGonagall came into the room and asked to speak to Hermione. She left Harry with her mother who was becoming very familiar with him. He was much more comfortable with them now.

Hermione found herself in a room sitting at a rather large table with the Healers on one side and her with the Headmistress on the other. It was the ancient looking Healer Heimlich Glockenspiel who did most of the talking this time.

“We have come to the determination Ms. Granger we see no reason an effective solution to your parent's problem should not be forthcoming, however, at present we are unable to determine the best course of action to facilitate a complete repair.”

“We have devised several possible courses of action but I'm afraid none are without a certain element of risk.”

“One such method of approach is to remove another fragmented memory stream from each of your parent's minds and applying an as-of-yet modified charm use it to attempt to attract all remaining pieces of fragmented memory to this single strand.”

“Another method discussed is to create a charm to collect all like memory fragments together while still in the Pensive then using an individual memory from each of your parents try and attach them to that stream to pull them out as a single block of memory.”

“A third possibility is to create a spell or charm to collect all remaining fragments of memory from your mother and father while still in the Pensive and store them in a vial or some other independent receptacle until the memory fragments can be identified as either your mothers or fathers, separated somehow and then placed back into your parent's minds.”

“Is any one method better than the others?” Hermione asked considering the options for a moment, “It seems to me the first and second methods are quite similar in nature but the first having less steps involved. Seems to me it would be the best course of action simply based on that criteria alone.”

“While we tend to agree…it will be necessary to create the needed charm and that may take some time due to the need for careful and limited testing. We don't want to make matters worse Ms. Granger. We want to make certain we have your approval before we move forward with our diagnosis.”

“Do you honestly think this can work?”

“We are more than confident Ms. Granger,” Healer Glockenspiel replied.

“To retain such confidence Ms. Granger one must possess knowledge of the Pensive and how such a device works,” it was Rabani al-Zipdup who spoke up. Hermione couldn't seem to make it past his huge bugged out eyes but she listened intently.

“The concept of such a device is to contain and preserve bits and pieces of memory. It uses a combination of ancient magic, properties of the correct type of crystalline impregnated stone from which the Pensive in constructed as well as the specific ancient Runes that adorn the exterior surface of the Pensive itself. The specific location of the Runes is critical to the retention ability of the device.”

“There are counterfeit and cheap imitations of these remarkable devices out there and unless you are absolutely certain of its provenance usage of such questionable devices should be limited to short term memory storage if used at all but it is not recommended. Memories fade rather quickly and if the Pensive is not constructed properly it will do nothing to contain the integrity of the individual or collective memory streams.”

“Each memory fragment is stored using what is theoretically known as a Unique Electrolytic-Magnetheric Frequency or U.E.M.F. It is also often referred to as a unique individual memory `signature' to those in the scientific community. Each copy of a selected memory fragment would in theory possess the exact same U.E.M.F. when extracted from the same source but the same memory taken from a different source should possess a different U.E.M.F. altogether, having said that, it should be possible to separate your mother and father's individual memories based on their unique signatures.”

“We are hoping,” added Alto Arpeggio, “that we will succeed in constructing a charm to collect or contain the specific memory fragments using these individual U.E.M.F. signatures and place them successfully back into your parent's minds. It will take time and a bit of research but I, as well as my colleagues, believe it can be done but you must understand this theory is untested and has never been applied in such a manner.”

“It's really nothing more complicated than finding the right U.E.M.F. to attach to the correctly modified charm and implementing the procedure,” added Healer John Smith glancing a bit annoyed at Healer Arpeggio, “but I think it would be prudent to move ahead slowly to be certain our theory of application in this case is sound, hence it involved this round table discussion.”

“I understand completely gentlemen,” Hermione sighed looking at her hands for a moment. She then looked at her mentor, “What do you think Headmistress? Do you think it conceivable?”

“Conceivable, of course Ms. Granger,” McGonagall replied evenly, “Successful…that remains to be seen but I am nothing if not utterly determined to see this through to the very end no matter what the outcome.”

Hermione nodded.

“You have my full consent to move forward gentlemen and I thank you for all your wisdom and assistance. I will assist you in any way I can.”

“Brilliant!” The Siamese Healer piped up. All the others nodded in consent, “Ms. Granger, would it be permissible to bring dis most unusual case to present before da board of Healers at our Conference to obtain a wider general consensus of our prognosis?”

“Of course,” Hermione replied a bit baffled why they would be asking her permission, “In fact, I encourage it. The more minds working on this solution the better as far as I'm concerned. All I ask gentlemen is that you keep in mind these are my parents…not laboratory experiments.”

Again all heads bobbed up and down with murmurs of agreement. With that the Healers excused themselves to begin working on the charm needed to collect the memory fragments.

Hermione sat back, her head spinning at all the information she was processing.

“Headmistress?” Hermione asked.

“Yes Ms. Granger?”

“The next time I attempt to be cleverer than my peers would you please just stupefy me instead!”

McGonagall laughed loudly at that patting Hermione on her shoulder.

“You did what you thought was right at the time Ms. Granger. Don't throttle yourself over it. Regret resolves nothing, yes?”

“Indeed,” Hermione replied. The weight of the unknown was pressing down on her like a building but she knew she had to move forward.

Nothing ventured - nothing gained. Please forgive me mom and dad! If this all blows up in my face it will be nothing less than what I deserve!

It was that thought she carried with her back to her parent's house to await word from the Healers. It would either be a success or back to the beginning. She was hoping for the former because she didn't know how much more resolve she had left.

When they reached her parent's house they were both so exhausted they fell asleep on the couch in the sitting room again like they had that first night she practically begged Harry to stay.

The next morning Hermione was so distracted she had squirted antibiotic ointment on her toothbrush instead of toothpaste. With much grumbling and cursing under her breath she cleaned her toothbrush with a wave of her wand.

It was while they were in the middle of breakfast at about 8:15 a.m. when McGonagall's owl arrived. With a scream and a rather impressive leap in the air Hermione dashed to her room to dress, not caring she put on two different socks and her tee shirt was on inside out.

When she and Harry arrived at the Spell Damage Ward of St. Mungo's she was crying. When they walked into her parent's room to find both her mother and father standing looking quite normal if not a bit bewildered by their strange surroundings she broke down, a mass of blubbering goo.

Her mother was a bit taken aback by her daughter's unusual behavior so it was left to Headmistress McGonagall and Harry to try and explain.

When all was said and done Hermione, finally able to reign in her emotions, found the Healers and embraced each one of them thanking them profusely through her tears of utter relief and joy.

She especially thanked Headmistress McGonagall for all her concern and effort and committed to her mentor her plan to finish her education at Hogwarts. McGonagall quietly told Hermione that was thanks enough for her.

…After all her appreciation Hermione Granger, along with a very relieved and thankful Harry Potter, escorted her completely repaired and healed mother and father home.

Later that evening after her parents had time to settle back in she began making plans to re-integrate them back into their dental practice as soon as possible.

After her parents had gone to bed she applied a silencing charm to her room and made very passionate love to Harry. Hermione knew she would be very busy over the next few weeks before the term started at Hogwarts and she had so much to do so she had no idea when they might be able to find a quiet moment to spend together.

She poured her heart and soul into him that night giving all of herself to him without reservation and he gave back to her just as intensely.

After the roaring flames of their incredibly heated love making they both lay panting and sweaty completely exhausted but very, very happy and content.

Hermione found herself lying on top of him again. She looked into his dreamy drowsy eyes and couldn't help but chuckle at his completely befuddled look.

“I love you Harry,” she whispered, “and I'm sorry…” she added cryptically.

“Sorry?” Harry asked confused.

“Yes,” Hermione said shifting to wrap her arms about his body holding on to him tightly, “I'm sorry for not letting you in just after I returned from Australia. I'm sorry for keeping so many secrets from you over the years but what I'm most sorry for is not realizing that I've loved you practically my whole life and completely denied it. I don't deserve your love or your kindness…” She turned her head to kiss him softly, “but I'm so very glad I have them.”

“You've nothing to be sorry for Hermione,” Harry reassured her, “It's just as McGonagall said - There's a reason for everything. Besides, I think I'm the lucky one here. I'm just thankful we've learned to control our magic so we don't set half of London ablaze while making love.”

They both chuckled. Hermione burrowed deeper into him as they both drifted off into a blissful dreamless slumber.

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25. Chapter 25 Farewells and Dreams

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Twenty Five - Farewells and Dreams

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat bolt upright in his bed. He realized at once he was bathed in a cold sweat as the disjointed images swirled around his mind.

He shook his head trying to organize his thoughts. When he felt a bit calmer he began to review what he had seen…

He was with the Muggle Prime Minister during a Press Conference. The Prime Minister was trying to reassure everyone the events that had occurred were isolated and singular in nature…but they weren't. He recalled trying to convince the Prime Minister the threat was real and grave but for some reason he refused to listen. They all were laughing at him as if he had told a very funny joke.

Next, he was at Hogsmead. Everyone was there! All of them…the Order of The Phoenix! Edgar, Benjy, Arabella, Hestia, Caradoc, Alice, Frank, Marlene, Fabian, Lily, James…all of them there…but they were dead, littered across the ground like discarded toys and broken dolls. It was Alastor who came to him out of the carnage, bloody and broken. Kingsley heard him speak.

“Do you really think you're clever enough to stop evil? Its magic is older and wiser than you are. You will fail!”

`Why would Mad Eye Moody, of all people, say such a thing?'

Next he found himself at Hogwarts. The castle was engulfed in fire. Hogwarts was burning! Black smoke billowed skyward from the mass of roiling flames. His eyes followed the smoke until they came to light on the Dark Mark! It hovered over the inferno shimmering in the glow as if feeding off the destruction below.

`No…not again!'

His thoughts were suddenly a mass of confusion and, for the first time since graduating from the Auror's Academy, fear…yes fear!

The green vaporous scull seemed to leer down at him as a hauntingly familiar shrill voice filled his mind's ear…

`You will fail!'

The mad cackling laughter that followed made his blood turn to ice.

The vision shifted to the Minister for Magic's office inside the Ministry. He was there but it was he who was seated at the Minister's desk…Why? He wasn't the Minister for Magic. He'd declined the appointment. He was the Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! Then they were there…standing in his office, Pius, Cornelius, Rufus and Arthur.

“You must do something Kingsley,” he heard Rufus Scrimgeour urge

gruffly, “The situation has become completely untenable. How do you plan to deal with this?”

“Yes,” Pius Thicknesse added in his high, nasally irritating voice, his eyes looking vacant and blank, “You must give in. You cannot possibly defeat him. We must negotiate!”

“This is Dumbledore's doing I tell you!” Cornelius groused, “He simply wants all the power for himself! He'll do anything to have it! It's he who must be stopped!”

“Don't be ridiculous Fudge!” He heard a voice say, “You're just being paranoid as usual!”

“He'll destroy Potter,” Pius interjected, “You'll see. The high and mighty Dumbledore will throw the lad into the snapping jaws of death before it's over! Mark my words! Where will your resistance be then Shacklebolt?”

“The words of the Prophecy are clear!” It was Arthur Weasley who spoke next. “We must take swift and decisive action!”

It was his own voice he heard next.

“I'm surprised at all of you, especially you Arthur. Since when do you allow yourself to be swayed by the mere words of a barmy old drunken sot?”

What words? What Prophecy? Was it the one that had resided in the Department of Mysteries, the one about Harry and Voldemort? It had been lost the night of the raid, had it not? It was the night Fudge had finally acknowledged Voldemort's return.

Voldemort - is - DEAD!

The words he heard in the Hogwarts vision returned, echoing in his mind once again with a frightening finality…

“You will fail!”

It was then he had awakened. His breath coming in short, deep gasps as he tried desperately to calm his frazzled nerves.

Audrey stirred beside him, turning to face him.

“Are you alright husband?” she asked in her soft voice rich with the accent of her true African heritage. It was like soft warm silk on the frayed and raw ends of his nerves.

How did I ever live without this woman…

“I'm sorry for disturbing you Audrey,” he mumbled weakly, “Go back to sleep.”

“You should know me better than that by now my love,” she looked up at him with her lovely sleepy gaze, “What troubles you so?”

Kingsley could not stop the smile that slowly crept to his lips.

“Just a dream dear,” he said, “Just a terrible dream, nothing more.”

“Tell me,” Audrey insisted. She would not be denied this night, or any other now that the constant threat of evil had been vanquished.

He did tell her. He told her all of it. Every detail he could remember.

There had been a time when it was not the case. There had been a time not so long ago when he would not…could not tell her anything. Often it had been due to the Fidelius but other times it had been the knowledge of the enemy and his motives and tactics. He knew Voldemort would not hesitate to strike at any advantage.

Kingsley had come to realize very quickly Voldemort had no use for such emotions as love or caring but he had been clever enough to realize what potent and powerful weapons emotions could be when used against those who valued such things.

He also knew how devastating they could be by the effects they had on those he knew, like young Harry Potter. The memories of the lad's losses were almost too difficult to recall but even though he had persevered in the face of insurmountable loss and pain. Now he would be a part of something new, untested and unique.

Kingsley was certain once Harry was exposed to the knowledge and experience he and his assistants had developed there was no telling how powerful the lad would become.

On one hand it was thrilling and gratifying to know Harry would be trained and educated in ways to master his natural talents. On the other, it was a bit frightening to know that one person could possess such indomitable power. If it were any other, Kingsley would not attempt it. He would have not even considered the possibility.

Kingsley also realized he had not been the only one who recognized Voldemort's tactics. At first it surprised him the young and seemingly inexperienced Ms. Hermione Granger had been so quick to recognize the danger but after getting to know the young Gryffindor he understood very quickly. Her unique intelligence and uncanny perception was unrivaled in most twice her age and experience.

Even though the procedure had been wrought with potential risk and the dangers of the unknown she had seen to the safety of her family. He thought it remarkable and daringly brilliant. One could not help but admire and respect the young woman who seemed so much older than her tender years would lead one to believe possible.

When he looked back down at his wife she lay silent for a time absorbing the words and images that haunted his mind. Then, in her usual graceful and calm manner proceeded to be his rock, his solid foundation she had been for him for so many years.

“Do you believe what you are doing is in the best interest of the safety and security of our world husband?”

Audrey's depth of perception never ceased to surprise him. He considered her words seriously for a long moment.

“Yes Audrey,” Kingsley whispered, “I do. I'm almost certain of it.”

“Then stay the course,” she replied, rising up on her elbow to kiss her husband on the cheek, “Let belief and confidence in your own quest be your guides. I love you and have faith in your intuition and instincts. They have not failed you yet. Now go back to sleep. No more bad dreams.”

“No more bad dreams Audrey,” Kingsley smiled into the darkness for a moment marveling in his wife's faith and undeniable trust. He lay back down but this time, fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

---@>---

The weeks that led up to her eventual return to Hogwarts found Hermione Granger working closely with a small army of Oblivators and Aurors to restore her parent's dental practice. It was a difficult and arduous but she went about the task with relish.

After an extensive and well-conceived explanation of the past months with a very relieved Minerva McGonagall the Grangers quickly fell back into their old routine and, somewhat to Hermione's dismay, old habits.

The memory of seeing her mother and father so unfettered and casual had stuck with her. Watching her mother become the prim and rather stiff matriarch she had always been was almost painful but Hermione didn't complain. They were alive and whole and they loved their daughter.

They had been very proud of her when McGonagall told them what Hermione had done, along with Harry and Ron, to save the wizard world. They both also agreed with the Headmistress that Hermione should complete her education so the possibility of not returning to Hogwarts was, at that point, inconceivable.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it. She knew Harry was going to accept Kingsley Shacklebolt's appointment to the special Aurors training program and would be gone to Merlin-knew-where for months.

As they stood in the Granger's driveway her father was finishing loading the last of her bags in the boot and her mother had quite inconspicuously went to sit on the passenger side.

For Hermione, standing there looking up at Harry she was struck with the sudden urge to call the whole thing off. She knew the decisions they both had made were the best for both of them…for their future but she just couldn't seem to keep her emotions from bubbling to the surface.

She thought her self control had weakened after all that had happened over the past months but as she looked into his sad eyes the reasons didn't seem to matter anymore.

Tears of misery exploded from her eyes as she threw herself at him with complete abandon. She held Harry in a death grip crying as hard as she ever had in her short life. She tried to reason with herself that this wasn't permanent or it wasn't like she was loosing him but just the thought of even a short separation from him now was almost unbearable.

Harry said nothing as he held the love of his life tightly to him. He knew what she was feeling because he - himself was feeling the same. Now that they had found each other he was loath to giver her up…even for the rational reason of completing her education. It was important just as Headmistress McGonagall had said. He knew that and to think otherwise would be selfish on his part but he couldn't suppress the sudden emptiness that filled him as he stood there on the steel grey chilly September morning.

The night before she had come to #12 so they could spend one last night alone together. Their lovemaking was so much more intense then it had been on the island. It was wrought with urgency and desperation as they clung to one-another in the darkness of Sirius' old room. They pleasured each other like never before - each wanting to give the other something of themselves to remember - remember why they were meant to be together.

He committed to memory everything about her. Every sound she made - every moan and cry that escaped the depths of her throat, every smell - how the muscles of her wonderful body moved and flexed under her warm sun kissed soft skin as she writhed beneath him - the way her eyes sparkled and flashed and how she clenched her teeth when she climaxed screaming and growling his name.

He marveled at how the magic swirled around them as they became completely lost, one wrapped around the other. It was incredible how light and colors seem to bend and swirl and dance around them. The magic seemed to weld them together - two hearts, two bodies, two separate minds but one soul - indelibly linked together forever.

As the heat and power of their physical love subsided and the magic that surrounded them settled the weight of what she knew was to come the next morning settled on Hermione's consciousness.

It was just as impossible to stop the emotions than as it was at that very moment standing there in front of her parent's house about to let him go for how long she had no clue.

He had told her about the petronus Kingsley had sent him with instructions earlier that day. Even though she knew he had accepted the Head Auror's appointment the reality of it all escaped her as she worked relentlessly to get her mother and father's lives back in order.

Now, standing at the threshold of the future she could not seem to make herself let go.

This is absurd Granger, she told herself, Get a-hold of yourself!

…But the words that echoed inside her head sounded empty and hollow.

“I love you Harry,” she choked through her unstoppable tears, “I love you so m…much. I've just found you and now I've got to watch you walk away from m…me. I don't know if I'm strong enough.”

This Hermione shocked Harry a little. He had seen her at her most vulnerable just as he had seen her at her best - on the hunt for clues and completely in control. This weakness was not something he was used to but he knew he had to be the strong one now even if he wasn't certain he could pull it off.

He leaned back slightly and took her face gently between his hands as she gazed up at him miserably.

“Please Hermione,” he whispered then kissed her lips softly, “This isn't any easier for me but everyone says this is the right thing to do for both of us - your parents, the Headmistress, Kingsley, Mr. Weasley…all of them. That has to mean something, yes?”

Hermione put her hands over his and pulled them slowly from her cheeks to fold them in hers clutched tightly to her chest directly over her heart. She nodded unable to speak for a moment. She took a deep gasping breath to try and get control of her raging emotions.

Her father came over to them smiling laying a hand on both their shoulders.

“I'm sorry Harry…sweetheart, we must leave for the train very soon if we're to make it to King's Cross on time.”

Over the past few weeks Hermione's parents had come to know Harry very well. They liked him very much. Her father thought him polite and respectful. Her mother thought him endearing and charming. Hermione made no secret her love for Harry but they had refrained from open displays of affection in front of her parents until she was certain how they would feel about just how deeply in love they were. At the moment though, she didn't really care what they thought.

Hermione took another deep breath and forced herself not to choke and burst out crying again. She didn't want Harry's memories of this moment to be of her as a blubbering idiot.

She pulled his hands to her lips and kissed them, her eyes never leaving his. With a blazing look that told Harry more than words could ever say she smiled a sad smile followed by her trademark sexy little crooked smirk…

“I love you with all my heart and everything that is within me to give to you for the rest of my life Harry James Potter…Now go be great!”

The desperate kiss that followed could have been classified - at least in Hermione's befuddled mind - as one of the greatest kisses of ALL TIME! Her body reacted in ways she never imagined when kissing a boy. Her heart pounded like a base drum being assaulted by a hale storm. Her tight-fisted, white knuckled grip on his jumper was almost painful as her toes curled inside her trainers and her dainties twisted into painful knots inside her trousers.

When they finally and reluctantly separated she was gasping for breath her face bright crimson.

“I don't have the words Hermione…” was all Harry could reply.

Still gasping and a bit light headed she smiled again her eyes wide with wonder.

“Erm…I…I don't think words are necessary at this point Harry!”

“I love you Hermione.”

“And I you,” she said backing toward her mother's sedan, “Write me Harry please!”

“I will,” he said, leaning forward and reaching out as if to take hold of her again but he stopped himself.

They both knew she had to go.

Finally, Hermione turned and opened the door to the car and slid into the back seat. Harry couldn't stop from propelling himself forward.

Mr. Granger smiled and took Harry's hand in a warm shake.

“I'm sure we'll see you soon Harry. Take care of yourself.”

“Yes,” Hermione's mother said leaning over so she could see Harry from the other side of the car, “If you need anything don't hesitate to call on us, please Harry. We're here for you alright?”

Harry could only whisper a choked `thank you', smile and wave at the elder Granger matriarch. He placed his hand on the window next to the girl that meant more to him than life itself. Tears were falling again as the sadness that dominated her beautiful face was almost unbearable.

She reached up and placed her tiny hand against the glass completely obscured by his larger one.

How am I going to make it without her…

The last seven years and so much of what they had gone through flashed across his mind like a film on fast-forward. The wonderful time they had spent alone together in paradise settled on him like a warm blanket.

He couldn't have stopped his own tears even if he wanted to so it took all the strength he possessed to step back as the big black sedan slowly backed out of the drive. Their eyes locked together one last time before the car moved forward then turned to the right and moved out of sight up the tree-lined avenue toward downtown London.

Harry stood there, hand still raised as loneliness settled on him like the empty and silent Granger house behind him.

---@>---

As the car turned the corner Hermione closed her eyes and tried to hold herself together but it was no use. She let her head fall into her hands as she tried not to let the shattering pieces of her heart become lost somewhere inside the depths of her soul. She tried to tell herself they would be together again one day soon but it helped little. The uncertainty and insecurity that had plagued her for the past several years had become a part of who she was. She was well aware it was much more profound for her Harry.

When she looked up she saw her mother's concerned face blurred through the vale of her tears.

“You really love him don't you Hermione?” Her mother asked, one eyebrow raised slightly.

She couldn't speak. She only nodded as she turned to look out the window at London passing by. Cars parked on the street passed in an incomprehensible blur while the houses set further back moved by her more slowly.

Her mother just looked at her daughter for a long silent moment before she reached back between the front seats and took Hermione's hand in hers. The look in her mother's eyes was uncharacteristically warm and tender which was a bit incongruous to the resurgence of her rather stiff demeanor.

“True love doesn't stop, rest or diminish when we are separated from the ones we love daughter,” her mother whispered, “It gives us time to appreciate how much they mean to us and just how important they are in our lives. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that young man loves you just as much in return…wouldn't you agree?”

The smile on her mother's face was full of joy and just a touch of that Granger know-it-all mentality she had seen so many times in the mirror over the years. It was just that time and experience had taught her mother to conceal it well.

Hermione couldn't help but smile through her own misery and tears. She knew the answer to that inquiry, of course…

“Yes mother,” she whispered, “You're absolutely right.”

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26. Return To Hogwarts

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

A.N. There is a significance to the number used for the decree issued by the Ministry in this chapter. If anyone can guess what that number represents or what it was taken from then they are, in my estimation “The World's Greatest Harry Potter Fan!” I will give you one clue…Books! You can put your answers or guesses in your reviews and if someone gets it I will post the winner(s) on the review board. If no-one guesses by the end of the story I will post the answer then. Good Luck! And as always thank you for reading! DarkWizardKiller

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Twenty-Six - Return to Hogwarts

It was a day Hermione had both looked forward to with a touch of excitement and almost dreaded with vehement trepidation.

Standing on Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station was an almost surreal experience…almost. Looking at the shiny, steaming locomotive of the Hogwarts Express brought on a sudden bout of melancholy that she could not quite dismiss.

Her now repaired and fully recovered parents had come to see her off to Hogwarts for what would certainly be the last time. She kept telling herself since she had decided to accept Headmistress McGonagall's rather insistent invitation to complete her N.E.W.T. level courses she had made the right decision.

The enticement of Head Girl and the promise of a 100% elective course schedule were just too good to pass up. Hermione was well aware she was quite capable of passing all her N.E.W.T. level finals if she never cracked another book in her life but much to her chagrin, she knew the old Headmistress was right when she reminded Hermione how important it was to actually graduate!

It would have been such a waste of all her hard work in the past to leave this chapter of her life incomplete…and Hermione Jean Granger did not like leaving things incomplete.

But walking away from Harry was almost impossible this time. The memory of seeing him standing in her parent's driveway as they drove away was one of the hardest things she had ever done in her life.

Their (all too brief) vacation had brought to the surface many latent feelings and emotions she had been harboring for what she now realized was years and the thought of being without him now was almost debilitating…but Hermione was nothing if not resilient. She recalled what Harry had said…

`It's not like we're saying goodbye forever Hermione…”

Even though he only said that to try and assuage her sorrow and fear those words had sunk in - and she was going to cling to them like a life preserver.

After all…He's going where you can't follow this time Granger so deal with it!

Standing there watching what she could only surmise as first, second and maybe third year students running around the platform with excited glee she suddenly felt much too old for all this.

Merlin's beard…Where we ever that young and…small?

She knew the answer to that question, of course but she just wasn't sure if she was prepared to accept it as fact yet. She was well aware it wasn't the years that aged her, it was the experiences and there had been many bad ones. She had no intention of dwelling on them now. It was time to move forward.

Even with the promise of seemingly unlimited time in the Hogwarts Library and invariable free reign of the school she knew it wasn't going to be the same.

There were two very important things she knew were missing this term even if she was dreadfully annoyed with one and desperately in love with the other.

The absence of Harry and Ron would be glaring.

Even though, she was determined to make the best of it.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had assured her they would provide the necessary security to keep the wizard press and other rabid well-wishers from disrupting the school for the duration. That only made Hermione feel slightly better but after the last few months it would be a welcome respite from the constant attention and spot light on the Golden Trio.

The publication of Ron's ridiculous tell-all book written with Rita Skeeter and his antics in public had the entire wizard world in a constant buzz.

Hermione realized if she ever got close enough…she would simply have to kill him.

With warm embraces and kisses from her mother and father she bid them farewell and began making her way toward the train. She couldn't help but watch them over her shoulder as she moved down the platform. It just felt so good to have them back to normal once again.

But the memory of how happy, relaxed and content Wendell and Monica Wilkins had looked that day in Perth, Australia would haunt her subconscious mind from time to time. It was impossible not to feel a touch of guilt for everything she had put them through.

It was as if a dark veil had been removed from her existence since they had been brought back. The only bright spot in the last four dreadful months had been the discovery of her true feelings for a certain messy-haired, bespectacled boy she had known now for 8 years.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about Harry's decision to join Kingsley's new and improved Auror's department. On one hand it was just as he had said…

“I mean really Hermione. I've been doing the job of an Auror half my life. At least this way I'll get paid for it.”

When Harry had first said that it was in jest but after she had thought about it for a while she knew he was right.

On the other hand, he would at least be getting proper training and not just running around in a panic or in constant fear for his life. He could at least assuage his saving people thing with proper back up.

She missed him though…she missed Harry terribly already.

As Hermione pushed her cart toward one of the porters she began seeing faces she recognized.

She passed Cho Chang in a tight group of girls. One of which was Marietta Edgecombe. Cho was even more strikingly beautiful, if that were possible and Marietta…

“Hello Cho…Marietta,” Hermione said with a slight smile as she passed the group, “Complexion's looking much better.”

Marietta seemed a bit shocked at first but then a slight scowl crossed her rather pock-marked features. The rest of the girls seemed reluctant to say anything as Hermione strolled past sporting her Head Girl badge proudly.

Some things never change.

She sighed as she continued on.

A bit further on she spied Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood coming out of the mist that surrounded the old steam engine. Much to Hermione's surprise they were walking hand-in-hand.

When Neville spotted Hermione his face split in his familiar huge toothy smile. He towed Luna toward where Hermione was assisting the porter with her things.

“Hello Hermione!” Neville said with such enthusiasm it made her chuckle. He let go of Luna's hand and his cart and folded her in a tight embrace, “It's really great to see you again!”

Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye that Luna didn't look quite as enthusiastic.

“It's great to see you too Neville,” Hermione replied with her own smile, “Luna, how are you?”

Hermione stepped forward and embraced Luna, who accepted it rather stiffly.

“I didn't know you were coming back this year?” Neville said. She couldn't help but notice the Head Boy badge on the lapel of his Hogwarts robe.

Luna saw what Hermione was looking at and moved forward to take Neville's arm rather possessively.

“The Headmistress rewarded Neville for his courage and bravery and chose him for Head Boy this year.” Luna said in her ever-present dreamy voice, “He's a hero you know.”

Hermione smiled at them warmly. Neville's face looked like it was about to burst into flames.

“Yes Luna,” Hermione said, “He most certainly is. The Headmistress could not have chosen anyone better.”

Luna beamed at Hermione and seemed to relax after that. Neville looked as if he was about to faint.

“Does this mean Harry and Ron are coming back as well?” Neville asked expectantly.

She tried desperately to keep the look of sadness off her face but wasn't sure if she managed it.

“No, Neville. I'm certain Harry's not coming back this year and quite frankly, I'm not certain about Ron.”

A quizzical looked passed over Neville's face but thankfully he didn't press her for more details. Luna, however, was unabashed.

“Seems Ronald is having great fun these days,” Luna mused, “The Daily Prophet follows him everywhere he goes.”

Leave it to Luna to expose all ones bleeding wounds.

Thankfully, Neville seemed to recognize the subtle but sudden shift in Hermione's features.

“Well, we best be going Luna,” he began tugging her on down the platform, “See you in the Head Boy and Girl compartment later Hermione. It's really good to know you'll be here this year. Quite frankly, I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be doing as Head Boy yet.”

Hermione looked at Neville with surprise.

“Didn't you read the Head Duties manual sent with your badge? It details our duties quite clearly.”

“No time,” he shouted as they moved off, “I took several horticulture classes at a Muggle university this summer and worked with Professor Sprout for several weeks.”

“Not to worry,” Hermione said loudly, “I'll help get you up to speed during the trip.”

“Thanks Hermione. You're the best!”

As she stood there watching them go she noticed most of the other younger students were eyeing her with great interest. It made her feel a bit self-conscious so she gathered her back pack and boarded the train.

A few minutes later she had stowed her grip in the Head compartment and began her duties as Head Girl.

She heard the conductor shout “All aboard! Last call for the Hogwarts Express!” so she made her way back out to the platform to make sure any stragglers were ushered onto the train. It pleased her to see Neville doing the same on the other end. Neville gave her a wave to let her know all was clear.

When the few students who were getting last minute hugs and kisses from parents were aboard, Hermione gave the conductor a wave and hopped on herself.

Just as the footman was raising the steps of her car she heard someone rushing down the platform yelling at the train.

“Oy…Hold the train! Hold the bloody train!”

There was no mistaking that voice.

Her first reaction was to tell the footman to pull the stairs and slam the door quickly but with a heavy sigh she looked at the older man with a grimace.

“Best wait.”

The footman only nodded and patiently stood by the door waiting.

As the straggler approached pushing a cart laden with a trunk, bags and an owl cage Hermione turned and made her way off down the corridors without a backward glance. She had no desire to see that particular person aboard. He could very well fend for himself.

The thought of Ron Weasley returning to Hogwarts this year was as much of a shock as it was unexpected. The animosity, hurt and anger she felt toward him these days was almost palpable.

She thought she had seen Ginny get on the train with Dean Thomas and a few others but made no attempt to approach the youngest Weasley yet. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Ginny, it was more about getting on with her Head Girl duties than anything else…or at least that's what she was telling herself.

As far as Ron was concerned, she had no desire for that confrontation yet. She knew she would have to be in the proper frame of mind and with absolutely no access to a wand. It would be all too easy to simply curse his bullocks off and be done with it.

She went back to the Head compartment and found Neville and Luna had already arrived and settled in. Neville was deeply engrossed with the Head duties manual and Luna was hidden behind a recent copy of The Quibbler.

As Hermione sat down she glanced at the cover of the magazine and noticed a rather grainy wizard photograph of what she recognized immediately as the giant three-headed dog Hagrid used their first year to guard the Sorcerer's Stone. The headline blared;

MYSTERIOUS GIANT KANIS-SCHNUSER SPOTTED IN WILDERNESS AREA NEAR HOGWARTS!!!

Apparently Luna noticed Hermione gaping at the cover. Her eyes peeked over the edge of the book.

“Quite frightening-looking isn't it?”

Hermione was gawking at Luna pointing at the photograph. Neville kept his attention fixed quite studiously to his manual ignoring the conversation and everything else around him.

“But that's not a Kanis-Schnuser Luna! Why that's…that's Fluf…”, she spluttered but then stopped. Hermione wasn't sure how many people were aware of the vicious giant three-headed dog but she was certain very few students had ever seen it.

Luna looked completely unaffected by Hermione's shocked expression.

“Most wizards think the Kanis-Schnuser is a horrible creature but father says they are quite mild tempered and can be domesticated and kept as pets. We're going to try and catch it.” She paused looking thoughtful. “We're not quite sure what they eat yet though.”

I think you can safely add nosy and disobedient first year students to the menu!

“Erm…Yes, well,” Hermione felt as if she had been stupefied. She couldn't believe what Luna was saying but she knew that to try and contradict the spacey girl would simply fall on deaf ears, “Please do me a favor Luna?”

“Certainly,” Luna grinned.

“If you ever actually see that…erm…creature, please approach it with caution, ok?”

“But why,” Luna looked quite bewildered, “They're not dangerous. Have you ever seen one?”

“I'm not sure,” Hermione blanched, “May have…once.”

“Well see,” Luna looked appeased, “You're still here aren't you?”

“Quite,” was all Hermione could say with a grimace.

She was certain one day she would pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet and read a story detailing the demise of her lovable, flighty friend and her hapless father after being squashed, trampled, gored, eaten or blown up by one of their bizarre eccentricities. She decided to change the subject.

“Did you manage to get your house back in order alright Luna?”

“Oh yes,” Luna beamed, “Thank you. We're still looking for another Snorkack horn though. They're terribly rare.”

Hermione stifled a roll of her eyes with monumental effort.

Why do I even bother…

She glanced at Neville, “How's it coming?”

He looked up a bit alarmed.

“I never realized how much we were responsible for. There's so much to remember.”

Hermione sighed.

“Would you like me to take first rounds so you can have more time to study?”

“Would you, Hermione?” Neville grimaced, “That would be ever so kind of you. I'll make it up…I promise.”

“Gladly,” Hermione muttered as she rose and headed for the compartment door, “but there's no need for all that. I don't mind.”

Part of her was glad to be away from Luna's nonsense. As she made her way through the train her thoughts went to how she was going to handle Ron. She didn't want there to be animosity or conflict between them. That would be an unwelcome distraction. She wanted to focus on getting her studies done so she could graduate and get on with her life.

She knew a confrontation was inevitable but she didn't think she was emotionally capable right now. She thought of Harry and wondered where he was and when she would get to see him again.

The time they had spent together had awakened something within her that she never even knew existed. It was completely different then what happened between her and Viktor. The feelings of longing and an undeniable physical desire were so strong between her and Harry she still wasn't sure how to categorize those in her well-organized mind quite yet.

She knew she loved Harry. That was certain. She was certain he loved her in return but it was all so strange. She felt incomplete when he wasn't around and she wasn't sure how she liked that. She wasn't the type of person to ever be dependant on another to provide a sense of fulfillment for her but as she walked along the corridors she was well aware of the empty place inside her that she was certain only Harry could fill. It made her feel both warm and anxious at the same time. Two emotions that were ill suited to one-another.

As she made her way down one corridor she saw ahead of her three young boys spill out into to hallway tittering and laughing in what could only be described as a devious manner. Hermione was instantly suspicious. She could hear snippets of their hushed but excited conversation. They were so engrossed with what they had in their hands they didn't notice her approaching.

“No…no let me have a go,” One lad said.

“You already got to try that one. It's my turn,” said another.

“Hey, you think she'll be alright,” asked the third.

“Yah, she'll be fine! Directions say the effect only lasts for a bit,” The first answered.

“I dunno Payton,” the third one said glancing back into the compartment window, “she's starting to look a bit pale.”

Hermione's internal alarm went off instantly.

This can't be good!

She knew by the unmistakable banter she was dealing with the subsequent purchase and subversive application of some form of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes interminable and devious Skiving Snack Boxes on some unsuspecting victim.

It's going to be a long year…

“Just what are your three up to and why are you out of your compartment?” Hermione said in her bossiest tone as she came up behind them completely unnoticed.

All three boys almost jumped out of their shoes, stiffened and turned to see her with looks of sheer terror on their faces.

“Um…nothing,” the apparent leader practically shouted as he grinned nervously, trying to hide his contraband behind his back. His nervous eyes kept darting toward the compartment door.

The other two just looked up at Hermione with sappy faces like they had suddenly encountered a Veela.

“Y…you're Hermione Granger!” One of the boys said dreamily.

“Yaahh,” gushed the other. They were smitten almost instantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Nothing egh?” With a flick of her wand all the items they were holding and the contents of their pockets flew out and landed in a pile at Hermione's feet, “Oh yes. I see the nothing now,” Hermione glared at them dangerously.

The boy called Payton shrugged slightly and giggled nervously.

She suddenly heard quiet whimpering coming from the compartment and looked in the window. She saw a tiny girl perched on the edge of the bench. Her nose was bleeding profusely. She was trying to keep the blood from getting on her Hogwarts robe while she sobbed pitifully. There were several other first-year girls sitting with her but they were on the other side of the compartment trying not to get any blood on them

“Now see here! What have you three done!” Hermione bellowed as she threw open the compartment door. With another expert flick of her wand the three boys were jerked ramrod straight and pinned against the train car wall as if by invisible hands. They couldn't so much as move a finger as Hermione went in and sat next to the crying little girl.

Most of the other girls were looking at Hermione with open-mouthed fascination. One of them scowled hatefully at the boys.

“Told you - you better not do it! Stupid boys!” She sat back with her arms folded tightly in front of her with a huff then looked at Hermione with awed fascination.

One of the other little girls looked sadly at Hermione.

“We wanted to help her. We were looking in our book for a spell but we were afraid to try anything. We didn't want to make it worse.”

Hermione glanced at the girl's worried look.

“It's alright,” she replied reassuringly, “You did the right thing by not trying to help at this point. Best wait till you've got a bit more experience.

“Hmm,” Hermione sighed, “Nosebleed nougat. Not to worry.”

With another swish and flick the young girl's nose instantly stopped gushing and the rest of the blood disappeared. She looked down at the little girl with a smile, “That better?”

The little girl nodded. All the other girls just gaped.

“What's your name,” Hermione asked.

“Tabitha Birchmyre.”

“Did those boys convince you to eat that piece of candy?”

Tabitha glanced at the three trussed up youths then back at Hermione's stern gaze. She hesitated to answer. Hermione understood immediately. She didn't want to be labeled a snitch.

With a wave of her wand the three boys were released from captivity.

“You three,” she growled, “Front and center,” pointing to the floor in front of her.

All three rushed to stand in front of Hermione with terrified looks on their faces.

One of the boys looked as if he was about to start crying. He glanced at the other two.

“It was all Payton's idea!”

Hermione's deadly slit-eyed gaze landed on the boy who spoke. He paled three shades whiter.

“Irregardless,” she said in a deceptively calm voice, “none of you did anything to prevent it, did you SO,” Hermione stood up so quick all three boys flinched back, “You'll all three loose five house points from whatever houses you'll be sorted into, you'll all three receive one weeks detention and you'll throw away ALL of your little Skiving Snack Boxes. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

She didn't wait for a response but their heads were bobbing up and down frantically. Her eyes narrowed at them dangerously again.

“Believe me, I'll know if you keep even one single piece of that stuff so don't-even-think-about it, GOT ME?”

All three jumped again.

“Now off with you. Throw that refuse away in the trash bin at the end of the corridor, find yourselves another compartment and do not so much as put a TOE outside the door until we reach Hogwarts, is that understood?”

All three nodded and took off as if shot out of a cannon.

“Serves them right,” one of the other girls said.

Hermione sat back down wearily next to the little girl again. She eyed the tiny first year sadly.

“Boys are so mean aren't they,” Tabitha said sniffling.

That simple statement opened up a rush of first year memories in Hermione's mind. She recalled how everyone considered her that bossy little know-it-all nightmare. It was horrible to recall. It seemed the only one who never considered her that way was one boy-who-lived...twice!

She looked past the little girl and saw a bright new copy of Hogwarts, A History lying on the bench beside them. She gently reached around the girl and picked up the book. It was like holding an old friend. She couldn't help but smile.

“You're the famous Hermione Granger, aren't you?” one of the other girls asked shyly.

“Not sure about the famous part,” she sighed glancing toward the other girl, “but yes. I am.”

“My mum says you're the most brilliant Muggle-born witch ever!” One of the other young girl's eyes flashed brightly at Hermione, “I'm Muggle-born as well. She said if I study hard and learn all I can, I could be…” She stopped abruptly blushing bright red to the roots of her curly red hair.

“You could be what?” Hermione asked gently.

“I…I could be just like you.” The girl looked at her hands embarrassed.

Hermione smiled warmly at the little first year.

“Oh I'm certain you could be much brighter than me if you choose. All of you,” Hermione said, “but your mother is right. It takes hard work and a lot of study to be really good at magic. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't be whatever you choose. But using that same logic you get out of something exactly what you put into it. Keep that in mind won't you.”

Tabitha's smile was so bright and alive with curiosity Hermione felt her heart pinch slightly.

“Do you really kn…know,” Tabitha put her hand up to her mouth to cover it and whispered, “Harry Potter?” Her look was nervous and expectant.

She looked down at the little witch with a grin.

“Yes Tabitha,” Hermione whispered leaning close to the little girl, “He's my best friend.”

Tabitha smiled widely.

“He's so dreamy,” one of the other girls swooned.

“Yes he is,” she smiled, then added quietly, “and he's a great kisser too.”

The young girls squealed loudly laughing and putting their hands over their faces.

Hermione found herself envying these first year girls. This was something she had completely missed most all her life, this easy camaraderie of friends…real friends. It illustrated just how difficult it had been for her to open up to those around her. Sitting there watching the ease in which these little first-year girls interacted with one another left her with that seemingly ever present feeling of utter self-imposed isolation and she could not for the life of her figure out why.

The importance of such relationships seemed less so now but it didn't help to realize it was she that, intentionally or not, walled herself off from those around her. As those revelations came to her they only served to make her depressed. Shaking off those unpleasant memories she told herself there was no use in beating herself up about it any longer.

Hermione got up and was about to resume her rounds when an idea struck her quite out of the blue. She glanced back over her shoulder at the girls all eyeing her with amazement.

She turned back around and grinned at them sheepishly.

“Want me to teach you a great charm to keep the boys from pestering you?”

They all clapped and agreed excitedly.

“All right then,” Hermione turned quickly back to the door, opened it and glanced both ways down the corridor, then turned back closing and locking the door. She reached up and lowered the blind. “You mustn't tell anyone how you learned this and you mustn't use it unless absolutely necessary, agreed?”

All the girls nodded tittering like pixies.

About a half hour later Hermione emerged from the girl's compartment. Behind her there were small flocks of twittering little bright yellow canaries fluttering all about the heads of the four young female students.

“Now remember. Not a word about this to anyone agreed? Better send them away for now.”

With well practiced swishes of several wands the birds disappeared in a blink.

“Thanks Hermione,” one of the girls said. As she was closing the compartment door she heard them whispering.

“She's amazing!”

“Yah!”

“I heard they never could have finished off `you-know-who' without her!”

“Do you think she and Harry Potter are…you know…together?”

“Well you heard what she said. He's tops at kissing!”

Snickering laughter…

“Oh, I hope not. I'm going to marry him someday.”

Hermione could only laugh and shake her head.

I guess I better watch my step. I've got some stiff competition.

The rest of her rounds went mostly without incident. She saw many familiar faces but decided not to stop and talk with any of them quite yet.

She knew that being Head Girl was going to put a further strain on many of her limited relationships with most of her fellow students. She understood all to well her position of authority and for the first time understood what Ron's brother Percy had gone through. She had already made up her mind to adhere to Hogwarts rules and regulations irregardless of who she was dealing with. Hermione knew that made her Enemy #2, second only to the entire staff but she would need to be consistent.

She knew she had to put her days of flaunting the rules for the greater good behind her or else her authority would be completely ineffective. Well…for the most part anyway. Being in charge did, after all, have some privileges. The thought of the Marauder's Map tucked safely in the bottom of her trunk made her smirk.

Harry had given it to her as a going away present the night before she was to return to Hogwarts. They both knew the map would go a long way in making her life as Head Girl much easier and she was grateful for his kindness. She had showed him just how grateful for the rest of that evening.

The memory of it sent shivers up her spine.

As she made her way into the very last car on the back of the train she noticed who she immediately recognized as Pansy Parkinson exiting the very last compartment.

The Slytherin girl looked much different then Hermione remembered. She was a bit taller and had much longer hair. She was actually rather pretty.

As Pansy made her way toward her Hermione realized the girl was crying.

Pansy was so lost in her misery she had not noticed Hermione approaching.

“Everything alright there, Pansy?”

Pansy jolted to a stop with a hiccup startled as she gazed wide-eyed at Hermione. For a moment they both stood there looking at one-another, neither quite certain how to react to the other.

It was as if Pansy came to a silent decision standing there facing someone she had despised in the past. Her demeanor relaxed slightly as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” Pansy replied. Hermione could tell the girl was attempting to keep her attitude neutral. She wasn't hateful but she wasn't being very cordial either. “Not surprised you made Head Girl,” Pansy said glancing at the badge.

“Yes, well,” Hermione replied evenly, “I don't think it has to do with a glowing assessment as much as it does with the fact that no one else really wanted the job.”

Much to Hermione's amazement the corner of Pansy's mouth turned up into a slight smile.

“You're probably spot on about that,” Pansy replied.

“You sure you're…” Hermione began to ask but Pansy held up a hand to stop her.

“I'll be alright. There are just some things I'm going to have to come to terms with I suppose, whether I want to or not.”

Hermione nodded. She didn't push.

“See you around Granger,” Pansy said as she moved off down the corridor. Hermione watched her enter a compartment a few down from where she was standing.

She then slowly made her way to the last compartment and peered around the edge of the door so she could peek inside. She saw Draco Malfoy sitting facing the window outside watching the Scottish countryside flash by in a green blur.

He looked thin and gaunt. He even looked a bit disheveled and that was most unusual for Draco. He was usually the picture of perfect personal hygiene.

Hermione recalled he had spent three months in Azkaban for his roll in allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It must have had a substantial effect on him.

As she watched Draco picked up his wand and held it in his hand. He then flicked it at his trunk sitting on the bench on the other side of the compartment. The wand did nothing more than emit some weak sparks from the tip. The trunk remained exactly as it was.

Hermione thought that very strange. She began wondering if Azkaban had done something to affect Draco's ability to perform magic when she watched him pull another wand from his robe.

She thought she recognized the second wand as the one his mother once carried. She had seen it a few times.

With a flick of the second wand his trunk levitated about two feet in the air then sat gently back down on the bench.

Hermione thought it curious why his own wand didn't work for him as she turned to make her way on to complete her rounds.

She was back toward the front of the train when she realized she didn't remember seeing Ron in any of the compartments she had past. It was probably just as well.

She was about to make a pit stop to the loo when a she heard a commotion toward the back of the train. She could see someone rushing toward the front. When the girl threw open the door that separated the train cars she was winded with a terrified look on her face.

Hermione recognized the girl as a Slytherin named Tracey Davis. When Tracey caught sight of Hermione and the Head badge on her robe she started screaming.

“Fight! There's a fight in the last car…HURRY! I think they're trying to kill each other…”

Hermione didn't need any more details. She was off like a bolt of lightning. She decided to follow Tracey instead of trying to apparate.

That could be very difficult and tricky to do while in a moving vehicle. Even if you had pin point accuracy in your mind as to your destination, you could end up missing it completely because apparition was not instantaneous. She would probably end up sitting on her bum on the tracks as the train moved right out from under her during the transition. Hermione was a very skilled witch…but not quite that skilled…yet.

As she made her way to the last train car she could see through the window. Red and green jets of curses were flying in two directions.

Without regard to her own safety she flung the door open casting a quick shield charm. She instantly recognized Ron, who had his back to her, was locked in a heated duel with Draco who was on the far end of the car. Ron was shouting all manor of ugly diatribe at Draco while he threw curse after curse at the Slytherin student. Draco was busy deflecting while still managing to send his own curse or two at Ron.

Hermione angrily brandished her own wand.

“IMMOBULOUS!”

A pulse of powerful magic coursed through the train car from one end to the other and everything came to a halt.

Both Ron and Draco were frozen instantly. Their respective curses dying at the tips of their wands as everything stopped.

Hermione stomped to the middle of the corridor and glared at both of them. Her initial assessment of the situation was that Ron had come across Draco in his compartment. They probably had words then a fight ensued but at the moment she didn't care how it all got started. She needed to keep her wits about her and get control of the situation before someone got hurt but…she was livid and she wasn't about to take any crap from either one of them.

“Now I don't know what's going on and quite frankly I don't care. I WILL NOT have students dueling on this train or anywhere else under my jurisdiction! Now I'm going to release both of you and YOU WILL put your wands on the floor. IS THAT CLEAR?”

With an expert flick she removed the spell. Draco complied with her order at once. When Ron did not act quick enough she flicked her wand and Ron's zipped from his grasp to Hermione's outstretched hand.

“Hey,” Ron bellowed, “Give that…”

“SILENCE!” Hermione screamed.

Ron glared at her but said nothing else.

A few students had poked their heads out of a few of the other compartments and a small crowd had gathered at the entrance to the car. Hermione whipped her head in their direction.

“The rest of you return to your compartments IMMEDIATELY!”

Most of the onlookers vaporized. Hermione could see Neville making his way toward them wand at the ready. He came through the door with a determined set to his features. As he saw the tableau before him he pulled up short.

“What's going on Hermione? I came as soon as I heard.”

“I've got things in hand here for the moment,” she replied without taking her eyes off Ron and Draco, “Best see to the rest of the students. Make sure everyone stays inside their compartments for the time being.”

Neville nodded and with a surprised look toward the other two he turned and went about his assigned task without comment or protest. “Move along, back to your compartments. You heard the Head Girl…” The rest of the observers dispersed.

Ron turned to her with a sneer.

“Since when does Hogwarts allow known Death Eaters to attend?”

“While I make no pretense to assume Mr. Malfoy's employment status at present that has NOTHING to do with this situation now does it Mr. Weasley?” She glared darkly at him daring him to say something else.

“He started it,” they heard a voice say.

Hermione turned and saw Pansy leaning out of her compartment door sneering at Ron with a hateful look.

“I appreciate your assessment Pansy but I'm not concerned at the moment with who started what. Please go back inside.”

Pansy ducked back into her compartment with a huff and slid the door closed.

“Now I am warning you both. I WILL NOT have any more fighting or inappropriate behavior, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR? If I have any more trouble from either of you I will have you BOTH removed from this train and inform the Headmistress you are to be expelled from Hogwarts.”

“You can't do that,” Ron said.

Hermione stalked right up and got into Ron's scowling face.

“Would you like to find out EXACTLY what I can do Mr. Weasley?” Hermione asked him in a dangerously calm voice. It was a challenge and she knew he didn't have the stones to rise to it.

He backed off a step.

That's what I thought.

She turned to face Draco. She could tell there was something very wrong with the Slytherin student. He looked almost ill with heavy dark circles under his eyes and his almost emasculated appearance.

“Mr. Malfoy I will ask that you return to your cabin and remain there until this train stops at Hogsmead Station, understood?”

Draco cast her a rather weary look. He bent to pick up his discarded wand.

“And you, Mr. Weasley,” she said turning to face Ron, “You will return to wherever it is you came from and likewise remain there until we get to Hogwarts.”

Ron glared at her for a moment unmoving.

“Is there something else you'd like to say Mr. Weasley?”

Ron said nothing but held out his hand. Hermione reluctantly returned his wand. When Ron's hand touched it the wand crackled and sparked slightly. He looked at it for a moment then his eyes found Hermione's again.

“I never thought I'd see the day when you would stand up for a Slytherin and a Death Eater to boot against your own mates.”

White hot rage flashed across Hermione's brain searing her with vicious heat but before she could respond Ron turned on a heel and pushed his way roughly out of the train car.

Bloody coward!

Hermione turned back to Draco who was going back into his compartment.

“Did Ron attack you Draco?”

He stopped and peered unseeing through the window of his compartment door for a moment.

“Does it matter?” He asked.

“The truth always matters Draco,” she replied.

He simply shrugged his shoulder and went through the door without looking back.

Hermione stood there and marveled at the changes in Draco. He was definitely not the same Draco Malfoy they had come to know and dislike. It was almost as if he were…were…broken. The thought made her shiver.

She looked up and saw Pansy peering at Draco through the glass of her compartment door. The Slytherin girl closed her eyes as tears slid down her cheeks. She turned away when Draco closed his compartment door.

I know how you feel Pansy…even if it isn't for the same reasons.

Hermione suddenly felt very tired. For the first time since the suggestion was made to her to return to Hogwarts she was beginning to feel like it had been an enormous mistake.

I miss you Harry.

With a heavy sigh she turned and went to find Ron. She might as well get it over with.

She found him wedged in a corner of a compartment full of rambunctious second year Gryffindor boys, arms folded tightly looking mutinous. A few of the boys were playing exploding snaps.

As Hermione wrenched the compartment door open all frivolity and joy came to a screeching halt.

Ron snarled and rose to leave. Hermione pointed at his long nose.

“You…sit!” She turned to the small group of boys, “You three…two compartments down. Go there and stay until I tell you to return!”

They spied the Head Girl badge and without another sound they fled for their lives. One boy cast a pitiful glance at Ron as he hastily exited.

Ron bridled, “Look I have no desire to sit through another of your…”

Before he could finish his remark Hermione had cast a silencing spell on the compartment then whirled on him.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND?” She hollered, “What the hell were you playing at attacking Malfoy unprovoked? And just for your information you moron, I was not taking up for a Slytherin or a Death Eater or anyone else…not even you! I was breaking up a stupid, pointless altercation! That's my job Ron! I'm Head Girl! That's what I'm supposed to do!”

He bristled, “I didn't…” Hermione cut across him.

“Don't you realize doing something that stupid can not only get you thrown out of Hogwarts but can get your arse chucked right into Azkaban!”

“You can't throw me out of Hogwarts Hermione,” Ron growled.

“OH YES I BLOODY WELL…” She was about to blow up but Ron unwittingly pulled the fuse from the bomb.

“Look, I'm not saying that to be smart,” Ron eyed her purple face wearily, “I'm saying you can't toss me out of Hogwarts…no-one can!”

He reached in his pocket and produced a crumpled piece of parchment and held it out to her.

With a puzzled look on her face Hermione deflated slightly as she snatched the piece of parchment from his hand.

It was an official looking document. She sat down on the seat across from him and read it.

Ministry Decree #759

It is here-by recorded and duly noted that

Ronald Bilius Weasley

has been sequestered by this decree to complete

his 7th and final term at Hogwarts School of

Witchcraft and Wizardry and must do so with

acceptable marks on his final examinations.

He will also, by the limits of this Decree be

confined to the grounds of Hogwarts extending

only as far as the town limits of Hogsmead for the

duration of said term. Any deviation from this Decree

will result in immediate arrest and detention of said

Person(s) named above.

This Decree is legal and binding by law and shall not

Be rescinded unless adjudicated by the Ministry

Signed; Minister for Magic: Arthur Weasley

Attested and witnessed; Percy Weasley U.S.T.M.

Undersigned by Defendant; Ronald B. Weasley

The decree carried the official Ministry seal and all. She gaped at it in disbelief.

“Oh Ronald,” Hermione stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, “What in Merlin's name did you do?”

Ron looked as if he were going to be ill.

“It's mum,” he cried, jumping up and pacing the compartment, “She went completely off her nut when those bloody Prophet pictures came out. I mean I was only having a bit of fun that's all. You'd think I was trying to assassinate the bloody Muggle Prime Minister or something. I'll never criticize Fudge for abusing his power ever again! I wasn't doing anything wrong!”

Hermione pursed her lips and folded her arms around herself. A look of dark anger clouded her eyes.

“Well apparently someone thought otherwise didn't they?” She muttered looking out the compartment window.

It was then Ron seemed to realize who he was ranting to. He sat back down and eyed Hermione carefully.

“Look Hermione,” Ron began, “I never meant to…,” but Hermione just held up her hand to stop him.

“Ronald you don't owe me an explanation and to be perfectly honest I'm not sure I care to hear it. You're eighteen now and able to make your own decisions and choices. I'm not going to pass judgment on you because I feel I have no right but I simply will not tolerate…”

It was Ron's turn to interrupt her.

“Why did you have to go with him, Hermione,” He asked like it caused him physical pain, “You were supposed to be with me…and my family. I needed you to be with me but it was more important to you to be with him…”

And there it was. Just like that the ugly two hundred pound gorilla materialized in the room between them. All her self-effacing sense of justice and righteous indignation evaporated in a puff of smoke.

She thought she had prepared herself for just such a moment but as she sat there looking at him her resolve crumbled. She looked at her hands lying in her lap. She wanted to jump up and scream at him he had no right to judge her because of the way he left them during the hunt for the Horcruxes and all the other terrible things he had done and said to her over the years but she knew opening up a bunch of old wounds would solve nothing.

They needed to move past all that…but she also realized she owed him some sort of explanation.

“Believe it or not Ron I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. I'm sorry if I hurt you but as things turned out it was probably the right decision. I know that's the last thing you want to hear but I don't know what else to say.”

Ron looked skeptical but then she explained McGonagall's reaction to seeing Dumbledore's wand and how they ended up having to explain the entire last six years to her because she knew very little of it.

Ron already knew that from his conversation with Harry but hearing her say it made it only slightly easier to understand.

“I didn't tell you that to make excuses. Maybe Harry could have handled it all but…” She fell silent; knowing Harry had been exhausted and not thinking clearly. She had no problem admitting she had been rash but she wasn't going to accept all the blame for Ron's stupidity.

“Be that as it may Ron,” she added, “I'm not going to sit here and believe my going with Harry caused you to go running off into the night with that…that…”

“No Hermione, it didn't,” Ron admitted with a sigh.

He recounted what went on at St. Mungo's that night and how he somehow felt his whole world falling apart around him. He had panicked and had no idea how to handle it.

“Look here Hermione,” Ron said, “I think it's safe to say we've both made…decisions that have made us go one way or the other. I'm not saying it was right or wrong I'm just saying…it is what it is.”

Hermione thought about what he said for a moment and reluctantly found herself agreeing with him for the most part. The reasons for making those decisions had come from completely different directions but he was right. They were neither right nor wrong.

“Wow,” Hermione grinned, “Tea spoon Ron has some emotional range after all!”

“Ha bloody ha Hermione,” Ron sneered, “Just think in a few more years I might even develop into a shovel!”

“We can only hope,” She sniggered, “So tell me something Ron? Why did Ginny get back together with Dean then? I thought she was completely gone on Harry?”

Ron looked at her pointedly, “You mean Harry didn't tell you?”

“Let's just say he's a bit reluctant to talk about it.”

“Well,” Ron muttered, “Then maybe I shouldn't say anything…”

“It's no big deal,” Hermione said, “I just think he's really embarrassed about it that's all.”

“Embarrassed,” Ron gawked, “He's got nothing to be embarrassed about for Merlin's sake.”

As Ron launched into what he and Harry talked about at #12 a few days before Hermione couldn't help but smirk to herself inside.

Ronald Weasley, you're so bloody easy to manipulate it's scary. Couldn't keep a secret even if you were confunded and wrapped in a Fidelius charm.

Hermione nodded when he was finished finally understanding things from Ginny's perspective. She worried that Ginny harbored ill feeling towards her and wondered if she should be on her guard.

“Do you think Ginny hates me Ron?” Hermione asked tentatively.

Ron considered that for a moment.

“No, I don't think so,” he replied, “I'm sure she was plenty miffed at all of us back then but I don't think you'll be dodging any bat-bogeys if that's what worries you. Besides, you can just give her detention or something.”

“I would rather avoid that if I could thank you very much,” she grimaced.

“What?” Ron's eyebrows rose, “You were ready to throw me off the bloody train for Merlin's sake!”

“You were trying to off Malfoy Ronald,” Hermione said incredulously, “I think that's a little bit different don't you?”

“Yah…well,” Ron leaned back.

“Promise me this instant that I'm not going to have to continually step between you two all bloody year!” She requested with all her conviction, “Ministry Decree aside I'm not going to put up with it! I'll appeal to the Headmistress or write to your father and ask you be transferred to Durmstrang or something if I must, I swear I will.”

“Alright…alright Hermione! Don't get your knickers in a bloody twist!” Ron bellowed, “I promise I won't go looking for trouble…there…happy?”

Hermione looked only slightly mollified.

“But I'm not going to back down if he starts something,” Ron added.

Hermione bristled slightly but then remembered how bad Draco looked.

“I don't know Ron,” she said, “Something tells me that's not going to be much of a problem. I think his little vacation in Azkaban didn't set well with his delicate constitution. He looked positively ill.”

“Yah,” Ron agreed, “I noticed that.”

“So tell me Mr. Weasley,” Hermione asked with a blazing look of disapproval, “What's with you and the old bat Rita Skeeter? Put out a `Life and Lies of Harry Potter' book? I'm sure it's just brimming with ridiculously entertaining tripe.”

“Not even,” Ron replied bristling himself, “I made sure the contract stated that she could put nothing but the truth in the book. I'll admit she was a bit miffed about that. Her Quick-Quotes quill burst into flames when she signed it but I didn't really care. I swear Hermione…nothing but the facts as I remember them.”

“Well,” Hermione said amused at envisioning the hag's quill exploding in her face, “that's something I suppose.”

“Why don't you try actually reading the book before you trash it?” Ron added with a huff.

They sat for a while in what Hermione could only describe as a strained silence until Ron finally looked up watching her for a moment.

“So what's with you and the Golden Boy?”

She knew they would get there eventually. Hermione tried desperately to keep herself in check but could feel her cheeks grow hot all the same.

“Look Ron…” She began but Ron held up both hands in surrender.

“I know it's probably none of my business and to be honest…well, I'm not really all that surprised.”

That shocked her and she sat there suddenly feeling as if she just took a bludger to the side of the head.

“Come on Hermione. I saw you two at Fred's service. You were clinging to him like you might float away or something. It didn't take a bloody genius to figure it out. Hell, I was completely waxed and still could tell you two were together.” He was chuckling.

“It wasn't like it was something that was planned ok,” she blushed, “It just sort of…happened.”

“Well,” Ron said looking at her sideways, “All I can say is that it's about bloody time you admitted it.”

“What? It wasn't like that!” Hermione was getting flustered. Not just because he had known but it was partly due to the fact that she had finally realized she had been in love with Harry all along.

“What ever,” Ron tossed a hand at her, “I mean, you've been orbiting around the bloke like a planet since our first week at Hogwarts. I mean even the Daily Prophet pegged you two as an item back then,” he laughed, “ `course they also pegged you as a scarlet woman too but still.” He was enjoying watching Hermione squirm immensely.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You'd know all about scarlet women now wouldn't you Ronald,” she said in a quiet deadly tone.

“Low blow Granger,” Ron said sourly, “No fair hitting below the belt.”

“If the shoe fits,” she replied haughtily.

Ron only sighed but then his demeanor turned serious as he looked at her.

“Lay off the pathetic state of my love life, hmm kay? Really Hermione,” Ron sighed again, “It's not that big of a stretch to see this happening between you and Harry is all I'm saying. I mean look at the bloke…he's lost everyone who's ever meant anything to him because they've either died or they've tossed him aside like he wasn't all that important. I can't imagine what that must have felt like. I know how hard it was just to loose Fred and live with what happened to Bill and George.”

“But then I look at you and it's easy to see. No one knows Harry better than you do, know what I mean? Not me, not Ginny, not even his barmy Aunt or Uncle. He's got no-one else to turn to but you. Do you realize you are the only person in his life that has never left him? I can't even make that claim and I'm his best mate! Makes me feel down right ashamed of myself.”

“You've though a lot about this haven't you Ron?” She asked on the verge of tears.

“I suppose,” He said sadly, “I've thought about a whole mess of things lately, kind of easy to do when you're under house arrest. Scary isn't it?” He smiled.

In a split second Hermione's whole attitude and opinion of Ronald Bilius Weasley completely changed. Gone was the seemingly constant irritation she felt for him most of the time. Gone was her anger at him for years of bickering and arguments and fights. She couldn't help but have a new-found respect for her red-haired best friend. No more teaspoons for Ron Weasley.

But there was one thing she wanted to know…

“Does that mean you never really felt anything for me then?” As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted saying it.

The look that crossed Ron's face was enough to make Hermione stab herself through her own heart.

“Is that what you think Hermione?” He said in an almost inaudible whisper.

“N…No of course not…I'm sorry,” she said in a quivering voice full of shame, “That was a completely horrible and insensitive thing for me to say.” She put a shaking hand over her eyes.

“I think,” Ron said quietly, “there are just some people who rub each other the wrong way, you know? It's not something intentional it's just the way it is. There are just some things that aren't supposed to go together and as much as I hate to admit it…I think that's you and I. I mean, don't get me wrong, we get along brilliant when we're not trying to get along if that makes any sense.”

She nodded. In some convoluted way it did make sense.

“But don't ever think I never cared about you Hermione. I know I didn't always do a very good job of showing it…well…actually I did a fairly horrid job of showing it but…I mean after all, what can you expect from a bloody teaspoon!”

“Oh Ronald,” Hermione burst into tears. She lunged across the compartment and flung her arms around his neck hugging him tightly, “I'm sorry things didn't turn out like they were supposed to.”

Ron smiled widely as he patted her on top of her head.

“Well, it's nice to know even the little miss know-it-all can get it wrong now and then.”

She pulled back to look at him questioningly. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I think things turned out exactly the way they were supposed to.”

She beamed at him for a moment then settled on the bench beside him taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together.

Her mind wandered over all the things they had been through over the past seven years. All the adventures, pain and struggles - but even with the knowledge Voldemort and the Death Eaters were vanquished she couldn't find the sense of peace and contentment

she had anticipated. It was almost as if she were still not quite ready to exhale after holding her breath in fear over the last several years.

All their lives had changed and seemed to do so daily. It was as if they were hurling toward the future at the speed of light and no-one seemed to be at the controls. Even with the constant fear of possible impending doom they had a purpose then - a clear common goal. Now, for the first time in her life, it seemed, there was no clear destination laid out before her and until that moment she didn't realize how utterly frightening an unknown future really was. It was a complete contradiction to her aversion to all things Divination.

Hermione's ambitions and goals had always been clear to her even when she was much younger. First it was to be brilliant in her Muggle Academies, then it was to be the best Muggle-born witch there was and when trouble started she was determined to fight and win, dragging with her as many as her knowledge and cleverness would allow her to save. She had succeeded. They had succeeded. They had persevered even in the face of possible death and insurmountable loss but this…

For some strange reason she thought of Professor Trelawney. She thought about how a seemingly barmy old fraud could spit out a bunch of mumbled phrases that would turn the entire Wizard world on its collective ear. It grated against Hermione's intellect but she could not deny it had happened and people with much more intelligence and wisdom than her had taken it seriously. That, in itself amazed and alarmed her.

The power of words is almost as devastating as the power of fear, pain and death!

She also thought about how the fear of nothing more than someone's name had gripped her world for over a decade.

The realization of this made her shiver inside.

“What are you thinking about?” Ron asked. He was looking at her with a puzzled expression. “You looked like you were a million miles away there for a moment.”

Hermione looked at Ron for a long moment before she answered.

“What does the future hold for us now?” She whispered. She remembered thinking that very same thing the night she spent in the girl's dorm in the Gryffindor tower the day before she left for Australia. It bothered her as much now as it did then.

Ron simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Don't have a clue Hermione but I think that's the point isn't it? We're supposed to figure that out for ourselves. All I know is that I've got to pass all my classes this term or I won't have a bloody future.”

“Well, I'm not going to carry you like I've done in the past,” Hermione said seriously lifting her chin, “It's time for you to stand on your own two feet Ron! I'm going to have way too much to do with being Head Girl and…”

Ron interrupted her.

“Oh put a stopper in it Hermione,” Ron frowned, “I don't expect you to alright? Besides,” he smirked looking at her smugly, “I suspect there will plenty of birds tripping over one-another to help out one of the Golden Trio.”

“OH!” Hermione huffed jumping to her feet, “YOU…YOU…” She couldn't seem to think of an insult strong enough. She stormed out of the compartment without a glance backward.

Ron sat chuckling to himself. He could still drive the girl bonkers without breaking a sweat…

-->

27. Training Part 1

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 27 - Training (Part 1)

Harry stood on an ancient looking dock gazing out over a rather turbulent North Sea under grey overcast skies as a thick mist rolled like a solid white wall about a quarter mile off shore.

He had been instructed to apparate to this place after receiving a rather cryptic patronus from Kingsley.

He was to go to Scotland, specifically to the Islands of Orkney. Once there he would proceed to a town called Kirkwall. Once at Kirkwall he would make his way to a place the locals call “The Dregs.” He would then be met by someone who would escort him to the training facility.

As he stood there having misgivings about his decision he saw a boat appear, coming out of the mists slicing through the rough water like a sailor's worst nightmare.

He realized it was more ship than boat as more of the vessel came into view but what stunned Harry was it looked as ancient as the docks he was now standing, gaping at the craft approaching his position as silently as a Hogwarts ghost.

He remembered the Durmstrang ship they came to Hogwarts in for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This one was similar in design but much, much older.

The thing looked like some of the ships in the pirate film he had seen not long ago at Hermione's. Captain Jack Sparrow was his favorite character. This one, however, looked like it had been dredged up from the bottom of the ocean and pressed back into service wholly against its will and knowing how eccentric wizards could be - it just may have been exactly that.

The sails were nothing more than tattered rags fluttering in the stiff North Sea winds. Its riggings, ropes and lines were all draped with what looked like dried seaweed. Barnacles covered both sides of the bow just above the waterline. The wood looked blackened and slick with mildew and no telling what other things.

Mounted under the front beam of the ship was what appeared to be a carved wooden likeness of a woman. Arms raised high over her head she looked as if she were clinging to the rail with her hand and bare feet pressed to either side of the bow. She wore what looked like a very thin but fancy gown and had a tiara on her up-turned head. Her ample breasts pushed up and out as if proud to display them for all the creatures of the sea before her. The likeness was weather beaten and cracked in places but the physical likeness was uncanny and very life-like. Harry couldn't help but gawk at the figure stupidly.

As it came nearer to the dock the large ship slid silently sideways and came to rest against the dock edge with a muffled thump.

Harry could do nothing more than stand there gaping up at the huge vessel, mouth hanging open. A few moments later he watched as a gap appeared in the rail amid ship and a gang plank slide smoothly and noiselessly from somewhere hidden just below the deck level.

When it lowered and settled on the dock two men, dressed in what appeared to be turn-of-the-century before last sailor's garb, scurried down the plank and stationed themselves fore an aft on the dock. He then saw coils of thick rope sail over the side into the waiting arms of the men below and they proceeded to tie the ship to the dock.

The subtle rise and fall of the ancient looking ship made ominous creaking and groaning noises as it sat there looking for all the world like Jack Sparrow himself might spring from the deck any moment.

Instead, a rather short, squat man appeared at the gap in the rail and proceeded down the plank. He was wearing what appeared to Harry like a tan colored uniform. He instantly recognized it as definitely Muggle military in origin. He had seen them in Muggle films as well. The man was looking around as he descended. When his eyes landed on Harry his chubby cheeks puffed out in a wide, rather jovial grin.

“Ah, bless my soul,” The man said in a loud, booming voice that echoed off the surrounding buildings on the other side of the landing, “As I live and breath, it is none other than Harry Potter himself!”

As the man waddled his way to the bottom of the plank on bandy legs he made his way quickly to where Harry was standing, still a bit stunned by the ship. Harry quickly realized the man was about a half a foot shorter than he was.

The older, shorter man took Harry's hand in his warmly and offered Harry a bright, very genuine smile.

“It's a pleasure to meet you at last son,” he said with a slight nod, “Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Director Thurston Boreguard. I have had the distinct privilege to be placed in charge of this very special training facility. When Commander Shacklebolt informed me you had accepted his appointment I must admit I was more than a little pleased.”

“Thank you, Mr. Boreguard,” Harry said smiling, “That's very kind of you…or should I call you Director or…something?” Harry couldn't help but glance up at the ship towering above them.

“Director, will be fine going forward Mr. Potter,” he chuckled seeing Harry gaping at the ship, “I see you have much the same reaction to our rather unique method of transportation as most others.”

“Is that…” Harry began to ask pointing to the vessel.

“It most certainly is Mr. Potter,” the Director said with a bit of pride, “This ship was once the pride and flag ship of Her Majesty's Royal Navy. I'm afraid her long and illustrious history is simply much too involved to go into at present but if time permits I will gladly share my knowledge of her past. Saying thus, do you have everything you wish to bring with you?”

“Yes sir,” Harry nodded and scooped up the ruck sack at his feet.

“Excellent,” Director Boreguard said with a beaming smile, “If you'll climb aboard we'll be shoving off shortly.” He gestured to the gang plank, “We're awaiting the arrival of a few more recruits but they should be along any time now.” Harry watched as he pulled a pocket watch from his pocket and inspect it briefly, “You are more than welcome to look around the ship but do step cautiously. She can be a bit slippery in places. I will rejoin you shortly. I have some business to attend to at the harbormaster's office.”

“Alright then,” Harry said, glancing up at the ship again a bit wearily as he made his way aboard.

Stepping on the deck he noticed several men milling about doing various chores and tasks. They seemed to ignore his presence completely which was fine with him. When Harry placed his hand on the rail the wood felt as slick and slimy as it appeared. Making a face he wiped his hand on the seat of his trousers and proceeded to make his way toward the rear.

There was what appeared to be a wall that ran the entire width of the boat. Set in the wall were windows with a rather short door in the center. On both sides were wide stairs that ran up to the level above what Harry guessed was a cabin. Just above the cabin entrance Harry saw the unmistakable shape of the wheel!

He couldn't help but smile. It looked just like it did in the pirate picture.

As Harry made his way around the deck taking in the unmistakably abandoned appearance of the vessel he heard voices below. Making his way over to the dock side of the ship he carefully leaned over and saw several people approaching. They seemed to be hesitant to approach the ship.

There were three men and a woman. They all looked slightly older than Harry but what caught his immediate attention was the woman's hair. It was jet black. In the back it was just a bit longer than shoulder length but at the top, it was spiked and the tips were a bright red color. He then took in the rest of her appearance.

She was slender but not skinny. Her clothes were dark. She wore black jeans and a very tight black tee-shirt and heavy black boots along with dark red lipstick and black painted finger nails. She had on a very intimidating studded dog collar and matching gauntlets around her wrists. What was most surprising were the tattoos on both rather well muscled arms, the colorful art scrawling up from her wrists into the short sleeves of her shirt.

When she glanced up at the ship Harry could see her face. She was very pretty but what shocked him was that she bore a striking resemblance to Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin! In fact the resemblance was so close he had to look twice to make certain which, he thought later, was completely ridiculous.

The others below stood milling about until he heard Director Boregaurd approaching. He, in turn introduced himself in the same friendly manner as he had with Harry and quickly ushered them aboard.

When they were all on board the same men scurried back down the gang plank and proceeded to untie the lines from the dock. Other men were up on the deck quickly pulling the ropes in winding them into impossibly neat coils as the other two hurried back aboard.

Once back on the ship the gang plank again slid silently back into its hidden location below the top deck of its own accord.

As Harry stood watching this all take place it was as if the men attending to the ship simply vanished into the ship itself. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining what he had just seen.

Director Boreguard, seemingly completely unconcerned by this, stood in the middle of the main deck and pulling his wand swirled it in a circle above his head. The ship lurched sideways and began pulling silently away from the dock. A few moments more and they were heading out to sea toward the wall of mist.

“Lady and gentlemen,” the Director said, “please relax and enjoy your trip. It should only take approximately an hour to make the crossing, however, as we make our way through the mists you may want to avoid leaning over the rails as the old girl's deck is a bit slippery. We don't want anyone going over the sides in this pea soup. It would be almost impossible to find you.”

His laugh was meant to be reassuring and light hearted but Harry could tell it had a rather ominous tinge to it. He decided to stay where he was perched on one set of the steps leading to the bridge.

As the journey wore on Harry noticed the others remained together standing toward the middle of the deck. He could barely make out their shapes in the thick mist but could hear bits of their hushed conversation. He was almost certain he had heard his name at one point during their trip but wasn't sure. He really didn't care.

He took the time to think about Hermione. He missed her already. The realization she loved him kept him impervious to the damp sea mist swirling around him. He could see her beautiful sun-kissed face in his minds eye as she smiled up at him standing in the setting sun on the pure white sands of the beach in Tahiti.

As long as he lived he would never forget their adventure. It was, he was absolutely certain, the very best time in his otherwise dreary and often dangerous life. Things would be different now, how different amazed him when he considered it.

If Ginny had not reconnected with Dean Thomas...

But he didn't want to consider it. Not any more. He had cared for Ginny very much but she was happy now so there was no more guilt.

He loved Hermione. He loved her with everything he was or ever could be. He wanted to make her proud. He remembered her words just before she left with her parents for the Hogwarts Express…

I love you with all my heart and everything that is within me to give to you for the rest of my life Harry James Potter…Now go be great!

She had left him with a blazing look of affection in her eyes. He didn't want to leave. For the first time since he had stepped foot into Hogwarts he felt he belonged. He belonged to her and nothing, not even space, time or death would ever change that. How it made him feel was indescribable.

As suddenly as they had entered it, the foggy mist cleared. Harry stood looking out past the side of the ship to what looked like a jagged and craggy collection of peaks rising out of the churning waters of the North Sea, jutting up at angles toward the sky.

The tops of the jagged cliffs were hidden in much the same mist they had just come through. The land looked dark, ominous and foreboding. For just the briefest of moments he felt he had seen this place before but searching his mind he could not for the life of him remember where.

As the ship eased its way closer they could see a dock that looked very similar to the one they just departed. Again the ship silently turned and glided up snugly to it just as before. The gang plank slid out and the same men dashed down the ramp to lash the ship fast. Again, the men seemed to appear from nowhere. He had not seen them the entire voyage and it gave him the chills.

He shoved all thoughts aside as they disembarked and stood in a group at the bottom of the ramp waiting on Director Boreguard to join them.

As Harry glanced at the others his eyes fell once again on the woman. They made no effort to introduce themselves so Harry decided to keep to himself.

Now that he could see her up close it did nothing to detract from the uncanny familiarity of her face. There were subtle differences but not many. He hadn't realized he was starring.

“Gettin' an eye full are you?” The woman asked in a rather gravely voice seeming a bit irritated.

Harry quickly cast his eyes elsewhere as he nervously shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry,” he said in a weak voice just above a whisper, “You remind me of a friend I once knew.”

“Once knew?” She asked a bit haughtily, “Savior of the Wizarding World don't wanna be associated with freaky lookin' chicks now that he's all famous aye?”

Harry's anger spiked hotly at her words. They stung like being burned by a blast-ended Skrewt. He looked at the girl full in the eyes this time as he spoke.

“Actually, she was one of the toughest and bravest people I've ever met. She died a hero fighting in the war. Her husband died at the same time. I'm Godfather to their son who's an orphan now…just like me!”

The young woman's hand came up instantly to cover her gaping mouth. The look of shock that covered her face turned quickly to shame.

“I…I'm really sorry,” she stammered blushing, “That was a bloody insensitive thing for me to say, wasn't it?”

Harry simply held up his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger just slightly apart as if telling her `just a little.'

The girl blushed profusely again looking properly chastised but said nothing more.

As Harry turned back to watch Director Boreguard descend the gang plank he noticed a plaque made of wood attached to the side of the ship just below the windows of the cabins above. It was old, weather beaten and split in placed making what was written on it very hard to read.

As he strained his eyes squinting at the faded script he thought he could just make out some of the letters. It appeared to be something like…Q_EEN A_N'S REV_N_E.

He just shrugged his shoulders. To him it made no sense. He smiled thinking Hermione could have figured it out with half her brain confunded.

He could here that lovely, sweet, bossy little voice in his head.

Oh Harry, it's really very simple! (Roll of her eyes) All you have to do is put in missing letters until it make's sense…see!

His irritation at the woman's comments evaporated in the face of such internal joy.

Harry began applying the imaginary Hermione's advice to solve the riddle but the Director announced for them to follow him so he was forced to abandon his little distraction.

It didn't do much for his self-confidence to know even an imaginary Hermione was still more clever and intelligent than he was in the flesh. The realization made him sigh.

Being without her now is going to take some getting used to.

They all fell in step behind Director Boreguard following a narrow path in the rocks that wound up through the craggy peaks to a rather long tunnel cut right into the side of a sheer cliff face.

Again Harry got a strange sense of familiarity but it seemed completely misplaced. He would have known if he had been to a place like this before. Nothing actually looked familiar…it was more just a feeling.

Exiting the tunnel they came to a small clearing. A carriage, much like the ones at Hogwarts was waiting except this one was being pulled by a team of very ordinary looking horses.

Off in the distance a bit below them in a shallow valley was a quaint but very old looking village. Surrounding the village proper were what seemed like miles upon miles of fertile green fields with all manner of things growing in them.

Apparently it was harvest time because the fields were crawling with people. They looked the size of insects from where they were standing on the ridge above.

As they climbed onto the carriage the Director chose to ride up front with the driver.

As the driver flipped the reigns to get the horses moving Harry noticed the path before them went in two directions. An old, deeply grooved and worn path led down to the town below and the other newly cut path went off to the left winding in between two sharp and ominous looking spires of black rock. Boreguard turned in his seat to regard them all with his signature jovial smile.

“This strange island you find yourselves on is known today mostly as Hideaway Island.” Director Boreguard began to tell them as they made their way slowly along the cart path toward the spires, “It's really only a nickname. To most of the locals, however, the proper name for the island is after its founder and first long time resident, MacTaggart Hardaway. Old Mac, as most came to call him, was Muggle-born. He started out life as a farmer's son in the early 14th century. When a drought caused many farms to fail, Old Mac took to the sea, learning the fishing trade.”

“Later in the same century, around 1355 if I remember correctly, the Black Death swept across most of the western world…”

“The Black Death?” Harry interrupted.

“That was what we wizards called it but the Muggles adopted the tag shortly after.” One of the other young men sitting across from Harry replied, “There are some legends about what wizards thought caused it but many Muggles believe it was the Bubonic Plague. Some thought it typhus or what's called typhoid fever, still others insist it was rabies carried in the rat population that lived in most European cities of the day. Who knows? Many think it also had to do with the filthy conditions people lived in back then. They didn't have cures for such things then so it devastated the population.”

“Quite an interesting response, Mr. Harcourt,” The Director said smiling, “I'm very impressed.”

“And wizards couldn't help?” Harry asked feeling a bit dense.

“Statute of Secrecy forbids involvement or interference in Muggle life…even back then,” one of the other men added.

“Correct Mr. Lydecker.” Boreguard smiled again.

“As I was saying, after loosing his youngest boy to the scourge he decided it was time to try and move his clan away from the devastation. He had seen this island many times on his fishing trips but had never considered it habitable.”

“I'm sure you can ascertain why most would think such a thing looking at the place from off shore but that didn't stop Old Mac from exploring. One afternoon when the ship they were sailing had to drop anchor just off shore to repair a broken rudder he and a ship mate decided to take some time and explore the place.”

“When they climbed the craggy rocks they found the inland valley. They couldn't believe what the island had hidden away. Fields of some of the richest soil they had ever seen. To most it was just barren land but to an experienced farmer like Old Mac it was as good as finding King Solomon's mines!”

“I don't mean to sound daft but who's King Solomon?” Harry asked.

“Very wise and very rich bloke,” the third young man said, “lived centuries ago, owned a few gold mines in Persia, diamond mines in North Africa and lots of land in Egypt. Did alright for himself. Evidence is still a bit sketchy as to if he was actually one of our kind or not.”

Harry nodded. Boreguard continued smiling.

“A very unique description Mr. Ellesley,” the Director chuckled. “It was shortly after Old Mac arrived and settled and after he had established himself, he then sent back for the rest of the clan. Sending his eldest son to fetch them it was said he sent along a sack of the rich loam so the lad could convince his kin to join him here. The funny thing is, as more folks came here they began referring to it as their own personal hideaway and the nickname stuck, much to the consternation of its founder.”

“Local stories say Old Mac was so incensed by people calling the place Hideaway instead of Hardaway he put up signs all over the village reminding folks of the proper name and would thump anyone he heard using the other. The problem was MacTaggart was mostly illiterate so none of the signs were spelled the same way twice which for those who could read, made things that much more confusing. It made little difference in the end. After Old Mac died the people held a huge gathering and feast in his honor thus tearing down and using all his signs to build a bonfire to roast a pig.”

They all laughed.

“No-one paid this place any mind until 1940. The Air Defense Ministry in the Royal Armed Forces used the place to set up what was then a fledgling early warning detection system called Radar used in the Second Great Muggle War. Old Mac's descendants were suddenly faced with discovery for the first time in almost six centuries of peace, prosperity and total isolation. They were forced to put up wards and charms to keep the Muggles from straying too far inland. Their protections worked well. This place remains to this day one of the very few all wizard societies left on earth.”

“You mean there are no Muggles here at all?” Harry asked amazed.

“Not a single one.” Boreguard replied.

“What about those who marry Muggles or those born with no magical ability?” It was the first thing Harry had heard from the testy Tonks look-alike since they had made their way from the docks.

“Excellent question Ms. Patterson. They're forced to return to the mainland with all memories of this place erased from their minds. No exceptions.” The Director replied a bit glumly.

“That seems a bit harsh,” she said.

“Indeed, but Clan rules apply here. It's not a democracy.”

“So is that why the Ministry decided to place this new training facility here?” the one named Ellesley asked.

“What better place to locate a secret training facility then on a secret island?” Boreguard replied with a cryptic grin.

The rest of the carriage ride was mostly in companionable silence. Harry got the impression they all already knew who he was so apparently felt introductions unnecessary. Now that he had spent some time in close proximity to the others he realized they were all a bit older than he had realized. He guessed they were all in their mid twenties, except for the Director. Boreguard looked like he may have been a bit older than his parents would have been.

Harry liked the Director. He liked the man's easy way he talked to everyone not as an instructor to a student or recruit but as an equal, someone on his own level. His politeness was extravagant at times but not over the top.

But Harry was also very aware most people had more than one side. This was a training facility so there was no doubt discipline would be involved.

Moving through the towering rock spires the carriage entered what appeared to be nothing more than a collection of odd-looking buildings and structures. There were four long low buildings with rounded roofs made of what looked like wavy metal. The rest of the structures looked conventional but Harry could see one building was quite a bit larger then the rest.

As they moved closer to the compound Director Boreguard turned back to face them once again.

“Some of the structures in this facility were what was left over from the Muggle military compound here. The rest we erected after Kingsley discovered this place in the archives of the Ministry. No sense letting perfectly useful buildings go to waste!”

“I thought I recognized the Quonset huts,” Harcourt said, “Barracks?”

“Indeed, Mr. Harcourt,” the Director nodded, “Our group is the last to arrive. The rest of the recruits are already here.”

“How many of us will there be in this session, Director?” Asked Lydecker.

“Twenty five in this first go-round. Since this is our first class we thought it best to keep it what Commander Shacklebolt considered manageable but we'll discuss all this during orientation. That way we'll all be on the same page.”

“It's still early enough we my just be able to get that out of the way today. I wasn't planning on having Orientation `till tomorrow morning but…” the Director considered. “I'll talk it over with my instructors and we'll decide then.”

“Just think lady and gents,” he grinned, “You'll all be Charter members of this organization. You'll be the first, of what we hope will be many, to train in this facility. That makes you practically pioneers in your field! Something to be proud of, I'd say.”

Harry liked the sound of that and found himself smiling despite his anxiety.

“Sounds like fancy propaganda to me,” he heard the woman mutter under her breath.

She sat rigid with her arms folded tightly under her rather ample bust line. Harry tore his eyes away from her chest before she caught him starring again. He was picking up some very negative energy from the woman but he just figured it was because of their initial contact. Still, he had the impression this was not one to trifle with. Under closer scrutiny she looked a lot physically tougher than Nymphadora.

As the carriage came to a halt in front of the largest building in the compound they could now see quite a few others standing around either alone or in small groups talking quietly.

Just as Harry's shoes touched ground the door to the big building opened and a huge man exited. He was so big he had to duck to clear the top of the doorway. He was clad from head to toe in a rather strange ensemble. From the top of his puff-ball topped tartan hat to his calf-high boots he was a Scotsman through and through. Plaid kilt and all!

The man looked fierce and imposing with his fiery red beard and hair. His beard was braided on either side of his mouth, his hair at both temples and a braid in back as well. He wore a black patch over his right eye.

The man's forearms were as big as Harry's thighs. He wondered briefly if the man was part Giant but even as big as he was he still wasn't as large as Hagrid. Harry knew that meant very little but it was all he had to measure the man against.

To the newcomers, the man was a sight but to the ones already there they barely gave the big man a second glance.

He suddenly held his arms out and gave the new arrivals a huge toothy grin.

“Welcome to the Hideaway training facility. I hope ye had a nice restful journey.” His accent was thick but not too terribly so. Harry knew with some Scots one could barely understand a word.

They nodded and the big man started chuckling.

“Excellent, cause yer' gonna need all the rest ye can store up lads and lasses!”

Director Boreguard held up his hand.

“Let's not terrify the new arrivals just yet McTavish. This is one of my instructors Angus McTavish. He's been an Auror for over 25 years and is one of the most capable and creative instructors I've ever met.”

“Thank you for your praise Director but let's reserve it `till this group's been trained up right and proper, agreed?”

“Agreed, Angus,” the Director nodded, “Lets round up the rest of the staff. I believe we have time today to go ahead and get Orientation out of the way. Would you agree?”

The big man scratched his beard for a moment looking skyward, then nodded.

“Eya, I thin' we can get that done tonight Director. That should still leave time for a spot of grub and letting the recruits settle inta' their quarters.”

“Excellent,” the director said as McTavish pulled something from his shirt pocket, flipped it open and began mumbling into it as the Director addressed them.

“Alright everyone, if you'll all please file into the Main Hall in an orderly fashion we'll commence Orientation as soon as all my instructors are present. For now just take a seat anywhere. Thank you.”

Harry fell in behind Harcourt, Lydecker and Patterson as they made their way into the Main Hall. There was a simple black and white block-lettered sign above the door that read Main Hall - Office of the Director - Administrations. It was apparently a multi-purpose building.

As they all filed in most just settled into the first seats they came to. Harry found himself being shuffled further and further toward the back of the seating. He finally settled in the second to last row next to a stocky built bloke on his left, a tall bloke with a very prominent Adam's apple and long nose to his right and a rather surly-looking Patterson on the end.

The Instructors stood in line behind the recruits, legs set shoulder width apart and arms clasped behind their backs. McTavish stood in the center of the four other instructors. They all looked very different form one another.

One looked Oriental and even though he looked rather small compared to some of the others he looked strong, sinewy and deadly as a viper.

There was one that appeared to be Arabian and wore a spotless white turban. He was tall, thin and looked almost regal standing there.

Another looked like he might have been from England but he really could have been from just about anywhere, even the United States. He sported a huge handlebar mustache and eyebrows so thick they almost completely covered his eyes.

The last, but certainly not least was a tall stocky woman. Her yellow-blond hair was twisted into two tightly braided buns on both sides of her huge head. She looked almost as intimidating as McTavish with muscular arms and thick legs.

They all wore the same tan Muggle military-type uniform impeccably pressed and fit to perfection, all but McTavish, who wore his kilt, but even he had on a finely pressed matching shirt under his tartan and matching calf-high socks in his big black boots.

Harry could tell at once this was no slack organization. The instructors looked capable, confident and proud to be standing where they were.

Director Boreguard stepped up on a small raised platform with a podium in the center. When he reached it he stood looking out over the group and a slight smile crossed his lips. Harry could see the same unmistakable look of pride in his eyes as well.

“First. Let me say welcome, one and all, to this new Department of Magical Law Enforcement training facility. As all of you should know by now I am the Director of the facility Thurston Boreguard. From today forward you will address me as Director or Sir. The same goes for my instructors as well as any visiting dignitaries or superiors who may pop in for a visit. Respect and courtesy not only to us but to one-another as well, at all times if you please.”

“I have sent word to Commander Shacklebolt we decided to commence Orientation this evening and he has informed me he will be arriving shortly to welcome you as well. I'm certain he will want to speak to you all before we adjourn the meeting so please be patient.”

Harry brightened a little at that information. Hopefully he would get an opportunity to talk with the Commander as he was apparently now known. That, also, would take some getting used to.

“I have five very capable, highly skilled, experienced instructors hand selected by myself, Commander Shacklebolt and the Minister for Magic Arthur Weasley. I shall introduce them in a moment but first we have more pertinent information to discuss.”

“Let me make something very clear right up front ladies and gentlemen. While we agreed this facility is not a military one we take discipline very seriously here so you may see some military aspects to our program. Dress is the most profound military-like element you will see first. It was necessary to contain costs of this program so certain measures were adopted from Muggle military programs to help us maintain reasonable financial expenditures. I realize some of you my find this a bit distasteful but please work with us on this. I believe the ladies will be affected most by the uniforms. Please feel free to alter them as you see fit to help, however, let's not get too, how shall I say it…creative with these alterations please. Keeping the garment within the confines of its original appearance shall suffice as a guideline I think.” The Director smirked and everyone chuckled.

“What, no bikinis?” Someone asked laughing.

“No bikinis, Mr. Bloom,” the Director laughed, “Unless you'll be wearing said garment yourself young man.” He looked pointedly at the one who spoke. “I'm not certain that's an image I wish to be privy to.” He added light-heartedly. Everyone cracked up proper but then settled down quickly as if that was expected.

That little exchange served to calm jittery nerves and the whole room seemed to relax, all except Patterson. She still looked as tense as a piano wire. She was sitting at the end of Harry's row. Harry couldn't help but wonder what her problem was.

“It is virtually impossible to maintain a proper learning environment where there is confusion, chaos and discord. As most of you have come directly from the Auror and Hit Wizard departments this should be old news for you. You've already been through Auror training so we are certain you already know what is expected of you. I also expect you will assist us in bringing the few who have joined us from the private sector up to scratch on that score.”

“At the risk of sounding redundant I will only say while you are here we expect and please let me emphasize the word expect you all to conduct yourselves as proper ladies and gentlemen, is that clear?”

25 heads in the room bobbed up and down.

“Excellent! The last thing I wish to do is administer reprimand or release a recruit for undistinguished or unsavory conduct. That is all I shall say about that at present.”

“Since I believe the vast majority of you volunteered for this assignment please keep in mind if you discover this program is not for you, you may withdraw at any time and none will think less of you for doing so. As I said, this is not the military, ladies and gentlemen so you are free to step out if you so choose but please let me ad this…This is a new, untested program and I urge you to give it a fair chance. The program you are about to undertake is, I must say, unprecedented in its nature. You are going to learn skills and abilities here that no-one within our enforcement departments possess with any degree of competence or practical application.”

“You will become a highly skilled and trained unit able to handle any situation that arises within our world with competence and confidence and I, for one cannot wait until you have completed this program and see you in action. It's not simply because I'm Director and have a direct interest in your success…that is true but it is also because I know myself and my family will be able to rest much easier at night knowing this unit is out there, exists and is ready to handle any responsibility put before you!”

“There is no question in my mind about that and I think I can safely speak for my instructors as well as the Ministry in saying they are in complete accord.”

“Now - Having said that - I must impress upon you this entire program is not going to be easy. It is designed to push you to the ultimate limits of your abilities, endurance and skill and beyond. Not only will we be focusing on your magical abilities, we will be addressing your physical as well as mental capabilities. We feel these two elements just as important to obtain what we like to refer to as ultimate warrior conditioning. I realize that sounds very dramatic and bold but upon completion of this program, that is precisely what you will all possess. Make no mistake, there are fierce and deadly organized fighting forces out there in the Muggle world but they will never posses the one element you will all possess…Magic! Knowing thus, without a doubt you all will become the deadliest fighting force on earth and that is not a boast or an exaggeration. It is fact!”

The Director leaned back from the podium and let that sink in to the group for a moment. Some smiled glancing around but most just looked grave staring straight ahead.

“However, along with great power comes even greater responsibility. We are not here to teach you how to take someone's life ladies and gentlemen. We are here to teach you how to prevent loss of life whenever possible through superior skill, knowledge and ability. We're going to train you how to out-think and out-wit your opposition.”

“Notice I did not use the word `enemy.' There is a reason for that. The one who is standing in front of the business end of your wand may be the most horrible, despicable witch or wizard on the face of the earth…but we must always view them as living, breathing creatures that feel and think and bleed just as we do. If we loose sight of that then we run the risk of becoming as destructive as those which we want to protect ourselves from.”

“There will come a time when you will have no other choice. Sometimes our adversaries give us no other alternative. What this program will help you discover his how to recognize there is no other alternative and be confident that all other options have been exhausted before you throw that curse or hex. We will teach you to think, and think quickly before you act. That is one of the most important elements you will learn here.”

“We will help you overcome three main elements that lead to mistakes in conflict that can potentially cost you or your team members their lives. Those are trepidation, reservation, and misinterpretation. Overcome those and you are well on your way to becoming that confident, competent and capable Enforcement Specialist or what will be her-to-for referred to in all departments of the Ministry as an E-Spec.”

“The first lines of defense in our world are our citizens, witches and wizards passing through every day life. They may or may not recognize a potential threat and report it but they are on the front line even if they don't know it. However, the general population is not trained to recognize certain characteristics of the dark and subversive side of magic.”

“The second line of defense in our world are the standard Ministry trained Aurors, competent and capable, no question. This institution has been in existence since the late 17th century and has done an acceptable job of protecting our world; however, they have been for the most part, a reactionary force…”

“But…” The Director paused and leaned out over the podium as if to stress his next point, “in a situation as one that presented itself to us in the form of a very powerful madman bent and determined to take over our world this new Ministry has decided there must be another third and last line of defense, one capable of dealing with such a monumental threat as the likes of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, one so highly skilled and trained that none would dare consider attempting such activity in the future.”

“That,” he pointed out over the group, “Will be you 16 weeks from today. After the implementation of this program in the public sector and your units hit the streets of London those who choose to do wrong will come to know the special insignias that will adorn your uniforms. They will come to realize very quickly they have no hope of success and it is my solemn hope that dark and subversive magic becomes a thing of the past in my lifetime!”

“That is our long term goal ladies and gentlemen. It is a lofty one at that and one that may prove to be unobtainable but we will never again be caught off guard as we have been in the past. That I can assure you! Why, because of you!”

The Director stood casting a steely gaze out over all as his words landed on each and every one of them. To Harry he could feel the Director's conviction in his message. He believed so it was easy for Harry to believe along with him. For the first time since leaving Grimmuald Place knowing the commitment he had made to a man he respected greatly he felt if he just listened and learned he could make a difference with confidence and skill.

“Now, on to some specifics then I will introduce you to your instructors. Once that is concluded you will then be issued your cot assignments as well as some devices we have developed to assist you in your new rolls. Then you'll all receive a good hardy meal then you may retire to your assigned quarters and become acquainted with the items in your lockers.”

“First, after breakfast tomorrow, upon leaving the dining hall you will be required to surrender your wands. The reason we are not collecting them now is to give the ladies in our group time to alter their uniforms to fit more comfortably. If you gentlemen wish to turn in your wands tonight that will be perfectly fine.”

There was some mumbling from the group but very little.

“I promise you, they will be kept safe. For the first eight weeks they will not be needed. The emphasis on the physical and mental training I told you about previously will become your solitary focus during that time. I realize to many some of what you will be undertaking will be repetitive due to your previous Auror training but here, things will be much more intense I assure you.”

“During the first eight weeks you will work together as a group, all twenty five of you. The second most important lesson you will learn here ladies and gentlemen will be to learn to work as a team. We realize this is a vastly different philosophy then you have been subjected to in the past. For some the transition will be easy, for others who are perhaps older and more experienced in relying on their own abilities it will be more difficult to openly trust and relay on others but here, it is absolutely essential. There are no individuals here. There are none her more important or regarded any different from any other.”

Boreguard paused to glance out over the crowd and his eyes landed on Harry for just a brief moment but he could feel the weight of his comment land on him like a sack of wet cement.

“Let me repeat that ladies and gentlemen. No one here is more important then another. We are all equals and will be regarded and evaluated as such. Any who fall below acceptable levels of performance or it is determined are at risk to continue will be dismissed from the program without hesitation. We do not want people getting hurt but as I said previously, this program is extremely difficult and demanding.”

Harry could now feel the additional weight of twenty four sets of eyes scrutinizing him as if the whole reason for the Director's comments were because of his ridiculous and unwanted notoriety.

The realization made his insides squirm uncomfortably. He was also suddenly but acutely aware he would now be faced with much the same treatment he had been subjected to at Hogwarts for almost half his life. It seemed inescapable and he suddenly felt the even heavier weight of depression begin to crush him under its massive unyielding bulk.

That was the main reason for his reluctance in returning to Hogwarts and now, it seemed, it made no difference where he went or what he did, because the stupid and unwanted stigmatism hung about his neck like the rusty anchor of the old ship they had come here on.

At least at Hogwarts he would have been with people he knew, those of his own age…Hermione, who would have protected him from such unwanted attention with all the vicious ferocity of a nesting female Hungarian Horntail. (Breathing fire and all, knowing her.) He had discovered her latent possessive and territorial nature during their holiday when unwanted attention had been cast in Harry's direction by other curious females. To Harry it had given him a complete new prospective on warm and fuzzy to see her like that.

Once again, left to your own devices you've made the wrong choice. Well done you idiot!

He suddenly realized that maybe it was a complete mistake for him to be here. If he couldn't make the best decisions for himself how could anyone expect him to be competent enough to make decisions that would affect other's lives?

Director Boreguard continued as Harry sank further into despair.

“After the first eight week session has been completed satisfactorily you will then be split up into five groups of five recruits each and be paired with your selected or assigned Specialist Instructor to begin you individual specialist training. After four weeks of this specialist training you will then be merged into your teams.”

“Each team will consist of five members. Each member will be not only highly skilled in general tactics and combat but will also possess a specialized skill we feel is necessary for the success of each team in the field.”

“Each individual specialist will be classified as follows, a Curse and Ward Breaker Specialist, a Communications Specialist, an Infiltration or, as the Muggles call them, Reconnaissance Specialist, a Team Protection Specialist and last but no less important a Healer Specialist. The Healer specialist will also be responsible for team transportation which, in our assessment, goes hand in hand with the duties of a Healer, to quickly and competently transport injured or, Merlin forbid, incapacitated members of their teams away from the conflict area.”

“The specific duties of each specialized member will be covered in detail during the final four week special training period. If we find at that time that an individual may be suited for a different specialty then changes will be made accordingly. We want the best fit possible for each team member ladies and gentlemen. Complete confidence in your respective team member's abilities is crucial to the success of each team.”

“Please understand that once you are placed on your team it is imperative to become as well acquainted with your team members as possible. Your lives may depend upon it! If you have no confidence in your team members or are not acutely familiar with each member of your team then it compromises your ability to function as a unit. It is during this five-member team phase you will be closely scrutinized and evaluated for how your team works together as a unit. If at any time we feel the team is not coming together changes will be made to correct the problem.”

“That is why it is important for all of you to become acquainted with one-another during the first eight week training session. While we realize there are some people who will simply not fit together for whatever reason, the time to discover this will be as early as possible so the right recruits can be placed together to achieve the best results possible.”

“During the final four week session you will be immersed in learning engagement maneuvers and tactics as a five member unit. This is the final stage of your development and in our estimation, the most important for your success. Each team will be hit with a variety of situations they will be expected to engage with confidence and overcome with authority. In conclusion, if time permits we will also create a situation that will require all five teams to co-ordinate and work together to resolve with satisfactory results.”

“You were all selected as a result of your performances as well as recommendations from your division heads or commanding officers. You are already the best of the best the Ministry and its departments has to offer. That's why most of you are here. The rest are here for other various reasons but it was determined you fit the profile and/or the skill level of this program. Irregardless of how or why you came to be here you will be treated like anyone else with the same expectations.”

“Next, you may not communicate directly with anyone outside this facility at any time for any reason. The letter you received from the Ministry should have made that clear and why but for those who did not receive a letter let me reiterate briefly. We will receive mail once every week while on the island. It will come with the Commander when he reports for his weekly assessment meeting and performance evaluations so please make certain all your families and loved ones know to send all correspondence to the Ministry care of the Commander. You aren't the only ones being graded ladies and gentlemen,” Director Boreguard smirked, “This will usually be on Fridays, however due to the Commander's very busy schedule and unforeseen circumstances that may be changed upon little notice. Out going mail will be the same. Out with the Commander on Fridays.”

“Any attempt at contacting the outside from this facility will be considered an inexcusable breach of security and you will be removed from this program immediately. I certainly hope I don't have to repeat that. We are serious about our security ladies and gentlemen. We could choose to alter your memories but we would much rather depend on the honor of our graduates instead. However, if you choose to quite the program before you have completed your training that is precisely what will be done for security reasons.”

“Emergencies will be handled on a case by case basis. We will do everything within our power to assist you in any way possible to accommodate an emergency situation but there again, it must be a legitimate emergency.”

One of the recruits raised his had.

“Yes Mr. Gorman?”

“What about vertiserum sir?”

“Excellent question young man, I like the way you think however I don't think you need fear the effects of a truth potion. Do you recall the mist we traveled through to reach this place?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you recall in which direction we were traveling Mr. Gorman?

“No sir,” Gorman grinned knowingly, “Not at all!”

The director simply beamed like the cat that ate the canary.

“Neither the departure location nor the time in which it took for us to make the journey will assist anyone trying to locate this island. Contrary to the popular belief of my wife, there is a method to my madness.”

Laughter rippled through the hall.

That exchange made Harry wonder about the strange sensation he had when he first arrived on the island and if he should mention it to the Director. He was almost certain it meant nothing so he chose to keep that to himself. No sense in drawing any further unwanted attention to himself

“Please note we shall begin each day oh-five hundred. Is everyone here familiar with Muggle military time?”

Most everyone nodded. Harry had no idea what they were talking about but didn't want everyone to think he was a complete idiot. He figured if he listened he would find out what Muggle military time was soon enough.

“Very well, as I said, assembly each morning at five a.m., breakfast promptly at five-fifteen then we will begin each day's training at six. This will be rain or shine, ladies and gentlemen, please keep that in mind. We will train six days a week with our off day being Friday to start. That coincides with Commander Shaklebolt's inspection and mail call.”

“Continuing, each and every one will be expected to contribute to the day to day operations of this facility. Those mundane domestic duties such as cleaning, kitchen duties, assisting in food preparation, laundry and the like will be performed on a rotating schedule to make it fare for everyone. Schedules will be posted weekly in each dorm building on a board near the entrance. We have no servants or House Elves here ladies and gentlemen due to the nature of our need for complete secrecy and the need to reduce operating expenses so please lets everyone pitch in willingly to assist.”

“You will also be expected to keep your own areas neat and tidy at all times. Your dormitories will be inspected on a regular basis for compliance but really, ladies and gentlemen, we're all adults. I hope it not necessary to remind you to clean up after yourselves. I realize that not having your wands will require most of these things to be done the Muggle way but…it is a necessary evil in this situation so please try to understand and bear with us.”

“All recruits will be confined to this compound at all times unless otherwise allowed or instructed to do so by myself, your instructors or the Commander himself. No-one else possesses the authorization to allow you off the compound for any reason. If there is anything specific you require it will be obtained for you as quickly as possible but lacking an emergency it will be brought on Fridays with the Commander and the mail.”

“The near-by village of Hardaway is off-limits…period! However, I have discussed the possibility of granting a leave of sorts for exceptional evaluations by the entire group, meaning, if you all obtain above satisfactory scores in your assignments and practical lessons you may be granted a free day to go into town as a reward…But!”

The Director looked at them all sternly.

“If such freedom is granted any misconduct by anyone in this group while in town will be considered a terminable offense. The people of this island have graciously allowed us to be here and I will not allow our relationship with them to be sullied by ridiculous or juvenile behavior, do I make myself clear ladies and gentlemen?”

Nods all around.

“Very well…As a result of having several ladies present we have found it necessary to alter accommodations slightly on their behalf. Again, I certainly hope I need not have to remind you gentlemen that we will respect the privacy of our female recruits at all times as they are expected to yours. Their dormitory will be off limits to male members for the duration of this session.”

A wry grin fell across the Director's features for an instant.

“Keep in mind gentlemen that these ladies will be undergoing the same intense training as you so the thought of getting on the wrong side of one of these recruits would be ill advised if you understand what I'm getting at.”

“Some of us don't need training in that regard Director,” Patterson said darkly.

“Indeed!” Boreguard chuckled, “Very well, I think that covers the basics for now. Any questions about procedures or training schedules will generally be answered in the days ahead. I, for one, am anxious to begin…”

Director Boreguard suddenly looked down at the podium as if something distracted his attention.

“Very well,” he said, still looking at the podium, “It seems Commander Shacklebolt had just arrived and will address you shortly. In the mean time let me quickly introduce your Instructors.”

In the next few minutes they were introduced to the four men and one woman standing silently and patiently at the back of the room.

The first was Angus McTavish. He was to be a general as well as physical trainer. He was also to be the Curse and Ward Breaker Specialist trainer. He was classified as a Duelist-First Class. He is the current world record holder for dragon take-down wrestling at 21 seconds flat. There are no other records since all other competitors were either killed or eaten.

Next was Chow Ling Fong, Instructor Fong was a general and mental trainer and his specialty was Team protection, ward and spell application and was listed as a Master Duelist. In fact, he was considered by most to be one of the most skilled and deadliest Duelists alive. His additional skills included extensive knowledge in handling and using all types of bladed Muggle weapons.

There was the mysterious looking Ali-Ben Hassim. He was a general as well as mental discipline trainer listed as a Master Duelist. His specialty was Infiltration. He was also very skilled in using everyday items in one's surroundings as weapons and protections.

Next was Olga Gurrkenheimer, the frightening female. Instructor Gurrkenheimer was also a general and physical trainer with extensive knowledge and experience in wand-less and silent magical application. Her specialty was Tactical training, team maneuvers and hand signal training. She is also considered a Duelists-First Class.

And lastly, there was the eccentric-looking Edgar Brice-Tottingsworth. He was the resident Healer Specialist. He would be training the Healer Specs exclusively. He was also a Master Potions Maker as well as a Duelist-Second Class.

After introductions were completed Harry saw the familiar figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt enter the Main Hall. He was greeted with what Harry could see was obviously great respect from the Director as well as the Instructors. The Director turned to the group and said loudly and with as much authority as he could muster.

“All rise! Commander is on the premises!”

-->

28. Chapter 28 - The Final Term

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Twenty Eight - The Final Term

As Hermione stepped off the train at Hogsmead Station she instantly went into Head Girl mode. There was no time for quiet reflection on returning to her beloved school as she had done in the past.

Duty and responsibility replaced youthful girlish reminiscing and fond recollection.

There seemed to be a marked increase in the first year population. She and Neville found themselves assisting Hagrid, who was thrilled to see her and Ron had returned to finish their studies. He had been a bit disappointed to learn Harry had not returned even though he already knew about Kingsley's plane to make him an Auror.

It had been Hagrid's secret wish Harry would change his mind and come back to the school he loved so much.

After all the first years had been rounded up and placed in the boats to brave the Hogwarts Lake Hermione finally found a moment to take a breath.

She watched Ginny climbed into a carriage holding Dean Thomas' hand. It was then her eyes slid past the youngest Weasley to land on one of the most hideous-looking creatures she had ever seen.

The look on her face must have been a bit obvious as the next moment found Luna Lovegood standing at her shoulder smiling in her dreamy way.

“I realize they look quite frightening but they're really very gentile creatures.”

“Erm,” Hermione stammered. Getting caught gawking at the skeletal horse-like things only those who had witnessed death were supposed to be able to see was both a bit shocking and depressing.

She had already accepted they were real after riding one to the Ministry to try and save Sirius but actually seeing one was quite disconcerting.

“I suppose quite a few can see them now,” Luna added.

When Hermione glanced at the rather dizzy girl she saw tears rolling off her cheeks. It made her heart almost break. It was the first time Hermione had ever seen the look of sadness on the often dingy but always sweet Ravenclaw's face.

Hermione felt her own tears well in her eyes as she instinctively gathered Luna in a tight embrace.

“It's over now Luna,” Hermione whispered as Luna reached up to wipe her tears away, “They can't hurt us anymore.” She said it with all the conviction she could manage.

Lune sniffed wiping her eyes. She smiled and patted Hermione on the shoulder then turned to get into the carriage.

As Hermione looked around she spied Draco slipping quietly into a carriage with several second and third year Slytherins as well as a dark-looking Pansy Parkington. Pansy seemed intent on trying to have a hushed conversation with him but Draco appeared completely uninterested.

When Ron, Seamus Finnegan and Dennis Creevey slipped into the carriage Ginny, Dean, Luna and Neville occupied Hermione realized she was the odd one out. There was no more room.

As she watched the carriage pull off with its occupants all having quite spirited conversations she suddenly realized life was going to be very different for her at Hogwarts this year.

Part of her really didn't care but the rest of her was beginning to think it was a mistake to return.

She found a carriage loaded with a mixture of third and fourth year students. As soon as Hermione sat down all conversation and jovial excitement stopped. For the entire ride the younger students sat in complete silence taking furtive clandestine glances at one of the Golden Trio. Even to these younger students Hermione Granger was slowly becoming a living legend.

It didn't help she was sporting a shiny new Head Girl badge.

Once they reached the main entrance she was back in Head Girl mode as soon as her feet touched the stone steps. Neville was waiting for her and together, along with Hagrid they ushered all the first years into the Great Hall for the Sorting.

There were quite a few students placed in Gryffindor and only a handful ended up in Slytherin. Hermione thought that quite odd but not hard to explain. It seemed Slytherin House was shrinking quite noticeably with only 2/3rds of the table occupied.

For Hermione, she found herself unwittingly sitting apart from those she had come to know over the years. It wasn't exactly a conscious decision, it was more the fact that when she and Neville finally joined the Gryffindor table there was scant little room left but what bothered Hermione was that Luna and Ginny made room for Neville to sit between them.

Hermione quickly decided she didn't care and was not going to let it get to her. She had a goal. She wanted to get through the term, graduate and move on. That would be her focus and she was perfectly fine with it.

Less distractions, she told herself.

Head Girl duties aside, she came to the realization very quickly she would not find a warm and fuzzy reception here from her peers and she grudgingly accepted it, although it made her a bit sad. It would make her duties much easier.

After the feast the Headmistress, looking much rested and quite a bit more relaxed since the nightmare that plagued her parents was now history, introduced the new professors.

She found herself unwittingly liking the jovial and energetic Professor Dervish almost on sight. He seemed very excited to be teaching this year and it was as if his rather boyish enthusiasm permeated the entire hall. It was impossible not to smile listening to him introduce himself to one and all.

When McGonagall's attention fell to a rather young woman sitting where Severus Snape once did the mood in the room shifted to curious murmurs and hushed comments. When the slender and willowy Transfiguration Professor stood and introduced herself to the students almost every boy's mouth fell open and eyes went wide with wonder.

There was only one way to describe the woman - Ethereally Beautiful - But there was more…much more to this woman than what was on the surface.

It was the first thought that crept into Hermione's mind as she took in the new youthful professor. Her first reaction was to dislike the woman but Hermione knew it was nothing more than the fact that it was just the girl in her coming to the surface and she didn't like it. It wasn't really like her. Yes, she had found herself comparing her own shortcomings to other girls but this was completely different…this woman was a Professor. That fact alone demanded a certain level of respect.

Hermione knew at once if the woman was incompetent or a total Bimbo she would never had made it passed one Minerva McGonagall. No way! So there must be some substance to this woman but when she looked around at all the boys she realized very quickly…they could care less!

Ron was right out there front and center gawking at Professor Star like he had been thumped on the head by the Whomping Willow.

“I don't really care what class she's teaching…I'm there!” Hermione heard him tell Seamus and Dean.

Ginny, on the other hand, looked as if she could bat bogey the woman with no trouble or hesitation as she gruffly tugged on a gawking Dean's cloak sleeve with an annoyed huff. It seemed to be the general consensus from most all the girls in the room.

Hermione found herself feeling a bit sorry for the new Professor. It was certainly going to be a love/hate relationship for her this term but Hermione got the impression from the woman's attitude and demeanor she seemed to be all business. Her mannerism was quite professional.

Even though her dress was very clingy with a rather low cut front it wasn't ostentatious or over-the-top. Hermione knew the Headmistress wouldn't stand for such displays but no-one could deny the woman's obvious beauty.

With another glance toward the Slytherin table she saw that Draco seemed completely uninterested in much of anything as he sat quite stoically, eyes downcast seemingly unfocused - a very worried-looking Pansy sitting next to him tossing concerned glances at him every few moments.

Again it amazed her how utterly defeated he looked. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much. She thought she should be glad he was not the same hateful, swaggering arrogant twit but she couldn't quite seem to manage it.

When the sorting and the feast was concluded and dinner done Hermione and Neville worked in tandem to herd all the students to their proper places making it very clear that nonsense would not be tolerated this term.

When all were where they should be and she and Neville had met with the house Prefects she finally retired to her new digs - the Head Girl and Boy dormitories and Common Room.

She had known about them, of course but she never really thought she would ever occupy the space. She had fantasized but never really let herself believe she would ever be given the opportunity to be Head Girl and now there she was - standing outside the secret entrance that all Hogwarts students aspired to.

Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself knowing that the Head student quarters was hidden behind an almost perfect artist's rendition of Fawks - Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's amazing Phoenix. It seemed most appropriate in some ways.

As her fingers glided lightly over the rough oil-painted surface of the canvas she wondered just what happened to the beautiful red and gold bird. Her revelry was interrupted by Neville who came up the hall in hushed conversation with a very excited Luna clasping his hand in a death grip.

He pulled up just short when they saw Hermione just standing there looking up at the painting of Fawks.

“Forget the password Hermione,” Neville asked.

She was about to reply she knew the password when she saw a very strange and knowing look cross the little Ravenclaw's face.

“He will return one day Hermione,” Luna said rather cryptically, “He's just waiting…”

Neville looked down at Luna with an expression that suggested the girl was rather daft sometimes but Hermione could not help but feel a bit creeped out by the barmy girl's rather uncanny perception.

Part of her wanted to know what Luna thought Fawks was waiting for but common sense took over just in time. She stifled a roll of her eyes and turned to utter the password. The painting slid up the wall to uncover an arched stone doorway that lead to the very well appointed and comfortable Head student common room.

The room was a large square space with a high ceiling. A monstrous stone fireplace was set against the back wall between two floor to ceiling windows on either side. The main area of the common room was a round sunken pit that contained a low round table in the center surrounded by comfortable-looking over-stuffed leather chairs and loveseats stacked with pillows and thick tartan-colored blankets and throws.

Two large heavy round-topped wooden doors occupied the center of the walls on either side of the room and the spaces on either side of the doors was occupied by floor to ceiling hangings of the Gryffindor coat-of-arms in the house colors.

Up until that year it was common practice that the Head Boy and Girl be chosen from different Houses for reasons of a conflict of interest but many things had changed over the past year so the reason why the Headmistress decided to choose two Gryffindors was anyone's guess.

Hermione knew McGonagall had to remove herself as Head of Gryffindor House for obvious reasons but the knowledge she had chosen Hagrid to be her replacement both delighted and confused her…but she had so there was no reason to second guess her mentor.

“Well,” she looked up at Neville, “You can choose whichever room you like Neville.”

“Are…are you sure Hermione?” he asked a bit dazed.

She wrinkled her brow in slight consternation.

“Of course,” she replied.

Glancing at Luna she realized the little Ravenclaw shouldn't even be there but kept her concerns to herself for the moment. She also realized Luna was looking a bit longingly at the room to the right.

“Well,” Neville said, seeing the same thing, “I suppose I'll take that one,” gesturing to the room to the right.

Luna beamed up at him brightly as they made their way to his room. Hermione decided to do the same to begin unpacking and putting her things away.

She knew, as she opened the door to the bed chamber on the left that all her belongings would indeed be there. It still amazed her how this strange and wonderful institution behaved. It seemed to know things before they did. She couldn't help but marvel at that still.

After she had settled in and unpacked she came back out into the common room to find Neville sitting in one of the over-stuffed chairs in the pit quite alone reading his Head duties manual.

“Where's Luna?” she asked trying to be casual.

“She went to get settled in,” he looked up from his reading, “I hope you don't mind she came with me.”

“Why would I mind,” Hermione replied a bit taken aback, “Erm…” she hesitated not quite sure if she wanted to ask the next question but forged ahead anyway, “When did you and Luna… If you don't mind my asking. It's really none of my…”

“Oh, this summer,” Neville interjected a bit flushed, “She was here when I came to work with Professor Sprout. She was helping Hagrid take care of the creatures he was going to use in his classes this year along with Buck…erm, I mean Witherwings and the Thestrals. She's quite taken with them. Most all the creatures seem to take to her. It's rather uncanny actually. Hagrid says she'll make an amazing Care of Magical Creatures professor some day.”

“That doesn't surprise me all that much. She's such a sweet person…” Hermione said, but the thought… and she has an astute ability to identify with dumb animals… went left unsaid. She smacked herself internally for being so presumptuous and hateful but the thought of Luna's desire to capture and domesticate a vicious giant three-headed dog ghosted though her mind.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing how they would divide rounds and share duties. They agreed to nine hour alternating shifts starting at 10 p.m. and continuing until 6 a.m. for the first few days until things settled down and classes started in earnest. They discussed spreading some of the duties to their Prefects once they had figured out how difficult their schedules were going to be.

She told him her schedule was going to be quite full with the advanced level courses she had requested and he seemed to understand. He agreed to take the first round because of her help on the train so he could study and she didn't argue. She felt a bit tired and drained from the altercation between Ron and Draco on the train as well as her lack of control over her emotions earlier that day when she watched the boy she had come to love so much getting smaller as they drove away. Watching Harry standing in her driveway quite alone made her heart pinch again.

---@>---

Professor Zalina Sheryl Starr, the youthful new ethereally dark and lovely Transfiguration professor found herself in a tremendous and towering tiff as she entered into her chambers in the rear of her new classroom. Once she had managed to extricate herself from an irritatingly and rather profusely doting Professor Dervish she had excused herself as quickly as possible.

Even with all her centuries of training and skill she had never really managed to get control of her anger as she thought she should have. There was just so much that has happened over the last few years that has sorely tested even her steadfast resolve she felt it was a bloody miracle she could keep the top of her head from blowing off and killing all within her reach and that was a tidy distance to say the least.

However, she was also acutely aware that would not help her present dilemma. The idea that Harry Potter would not return to Hogwarts this year was absolutely and inconceivably unthinkable! She was certain he would have nowhere else to go!

What else would the Boy-Who-Managed-To-Defy-All-Odds do? Where was he now?

UGH! UGH! UGH!

She felt her head throb with pain at the knowledge she had made such an incalculable error in judgment.

As she made her way into her quarters the artist's rendering of the youthful Tom Riddle lounged lazily in his portrait. When he spotted Zalina he picked up on her mood instantly.

“Something wrong my dear?” Riddle asked haughtily, “Did that old codger Filch goose you on the bum or something?”

The look she gave the young man was a mixture of mild shock and utter contempt but she forced herself not to respond to his verbal barbs. She figured it only pleased him to know he could rile her anger so easily. She knew she must get control of that or it would eventually be her undoing if she wasn't careful.

“No, you twit,” she groused all the same, “Seems our target has failed to return to Hogwarts to complete his final term.”

“WHAT!” The young Tom Riddle flung himself from his gilded chair to stand stiffly leering out of his painting with his face a mask of shock and rage, “But…but that's preposterous! I thought you said you were certain he would return! You were absolutely convinced! What are we to do…”

“Enough!” Zalina replied practically shouting to quell his whining protest. “I was certain he would return…I mean…after all where else would he have to go?”

Zalina's mind raced as she tried to determine a way to adjust to this potentially devastating turn of events. She needed to come up with an alternative scheme and in the depths of her devious mind she began to do just that.

She had known the possibility of Harry Potter not returning to Hogwarts after the Professor's meeting just before the term began and she began to considered alternative ways she could get to the barmy little lout as a result. She had just convinced herself she would not need any alternative methods because he would not want to be separated from his little friends…but now…

Bugger it all!

Now she would be required to come up with a `plan B' as it were.

“Oh this is just spectacular!” Riddle's image spit. “I should have known this was all too simple. You should have…”

“Oh do shut up - PLEASE!” Zalina urged emphatically, trying desperately to keep her temper from reaching the boiling point. “Instead of complaining like the spoiled little brat that you are why not do something useful and assist me in thinking of an alternative method to get the stupid boy HERE! That would be a bit more constructive don't you think…or am I asking too much?”

Tom Riddle's painted face crumpled in a hateful glower as he fell back in his chair with a huff, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“Fine!” He huffed, sounding like a five-year old who had just been scolded by his mother. “What about the other two,” he asked.

“The other two what,” Zalina inquired. Her aggravation at this new dilemma was clouding her thinking. She told herself she needed to calm down but was having a difficult time of it.

“The other two members of the Golden Trio of course,” he replied, “Did they, at least, return this year? Do you even know?”

Zalina recalled seeing the Weasley boy and she was aware the Muggle-born brat would be made Head Girl after hearing a few of the other professors discussing the issue on a previous occasion. They had been a bit concerned by the Headmistress's selection of two Gryffindor students being placed in such positions but all had agreed she must have had her reasons so nothing more was said about it. Zalina couldn't have cared less one way or the other but now the knowledge that Hermione Granger had indeed returned this year could, if she played things just right, help her achieve her goals.

She was certain the torrid little Muggle princess would know the where's and why's and how's of Harry Potter. It was just a question of using her gift of manipulation to get the job done.

“Yes,” Zalina responded a bit absent-mindedly, “I think I'm beginning to see how we may still succeed with our plans but it's going to be a bit more complicated than I expected - although not impossible.”

It was then she decided it was time to visit Malfoy Manor. She had not been there since Voldemort left to meet his fate at the hands of a teenager. She had questions and since the term would start the following morning it was most likely the last chance she would get until the holiday break.

Donning a heavy winter traveling cloak she made her way quickly down to the main entrance hall and out onto the grounds being careful not to draw any attention to herself. The clever application of occlumency meant never having to explain your actions to anyone.

Once safely outside the grounds she zipped her way to the Malfoy home in a blink.

As she made her way up the crushed gravel path toward the front entrance she could see those ridiculously ostentatious peacocks running about the grounds.

The place looked a bit worse for wear since Lucius had been made to walk the vale and most of the monetary assets of the Malfoys had been confiscated by the Ministry to help with the reparations in the Muggle world.

She made her way to the front entrance as if she owned the place and pushed her way through the doors without so much as a `hullo…is anyone in!'

Once inside the rather dark foyer she glanced quickly about with her hand firmly on her wand but there wasn't a single sound and no-one seemed to be in residence, although it was quite late.

Without another thought she made her way to the rear of the main hall. At the end she made a left turn and went into what once had been Lucius' study or office. She continued to the rear of the room around the huge ornate and extravagantly expensive mahogany desk to a small section of wall to the right of the fireplace.

She glanced at the desk wide-eyed for a moment as she passed, the surface smooth and devoid of any objects at all.

Merlin's bloomers! You could land small Muggle flying machines on the stupid thing!

She pressed the head of a sappy winged cherub that held up the right corner of the mantle and it shifted ever so slightly.

She heard the familiar click and a rather narrow section of the paneling swung inward. She pushed her way into the darkness of the stone passageway beyond.

Once inside she pulled her wand and cast a Lumos spell. It showed her the narrow winding stone steps that led deep below the ground of the Malfoy mansion. At the bottom a wide corridor led of into inky blackness in two different directions, Zalina took the one to the right.

She passed ancient-looking cages and cells each fronted with rusty metal bars and old fashioned locks that were meant to keep certain things in!

Oh how I miss those days!

At the end of the corridor was a massive iron door with a huge lock. Next to the door on the right was a large iron key on a ring hanging from a peg driven into the stone. Snatching the key she jammed it into the lock, wiggled it about a bit then turned it to unlock the chamber door.

With a sickening groan of ancient rusty iron on iron that raised goose flesh on her arms she pulled the heavy door open just wide enough for her slender frame to slip through. She took the key with her…just for good measure.

The contents of the chamber were not unlike what could be found at Borgin & Burks in Knockturn Alley. All manner of ancient dark artifacts sat on shelves or rested in old wooden crates all around the rather large room.

When the light from her wand lit up the space the all sorts of strange sounds met her ears.

Some of these things have not seen the light of day in centuries! Narcissa could very well net herself a small fortune if she just went through this stuff and sold some of it…then again…

Zalina also realized the woman could find herself with a one-way ticket to Azkaban as well. She knew times were changing and tolerance for the Dark Arts waning in the wake of the destruction of His Royal Idiot - The Dark Lord of Blithering Stupidity and the indoctrination of the present administration…and she didn't like it one bit!

It was now left to her to try and salvage something from the wreckage of his botched coup de gras and the one person she knew she could count on to help her lay just a few steps beyond the edge of the darkness that surrounded her.

On the back wall of the dark, dank underground chamber hung a life-size portrait spelled and warded to help resist the ravages of time, decay and any potential for detection from any but a select few. Only two remained alive who knew this portrait existed. She was one…

When the glow of her wand brought the painting out of the depths of the blackness she couldn't help but feel the ever-familiar tingle of sheer awe and reverence that seemed to emanate from the image like waves of subtle warmth.

His face was dark but possessed a masculine beauty that could not be denied. His coal-black eyes held what appeared to be centuries of experiences and knowledge. His long straight hair, eyebrows, pencil-thin mustache and go-tee were all as black as a raven's wing.

When his artist-rendered eyes adjusted to the sudden presence of light his fine-featured face and perfectly shaped lips split into what most would have considered a devious and diabolical grin.

Zalina knew that wasn't the case. It was just the way he looked…intimidating and austere.

“Well,” his deep voice rumbled from the canvas, “Whom do we have we here? Could it be?”

The sound of his powerful and commanding voice sent chills all over Zalina's body. She seemed powerless to control her reaction to his intense aura. Even just his image affected her in ways the living never could.

“Yes Great Grandfather,” she responded in an almost breathless voice, “It is I. I've come seeking advice on a matter of great importance to our cause.”

“I must confess my dear Sallispell this new look you have adopted is quite…how can I put it,” he paused. His gaze seemed to cut right through her causing her to shiver slightly as if a touch, feather light had traveled down the back of her slender neck, “Stimulating.”

Zalina forced herself to focus. She had need of his knowledge. She really didn't have time for this.

“Undoubtedly you heard of what has transpired in the recent past?” She asked shifting sideways a little trying to control herself.

“Yes,” Salazar Slytherin replied, his face going dark suddenly, “I am well aware of the incompetence and foolishness of our half-Muggle relative. The knowledge he could be so easily vanquished is…embarrassing.”

“It is my desire to attempt to rectify his mistake and return honor and strength to our aims Great Grandfather.”

Salazar leaned back slightly gazing down at Zalina over his aquiline nose and slowly folded powerful looking arms across his massive chest.

“And how do you propose to do this child?”

His tone was rather condescending and it caused Zalina to chafe slightly. She hadn't been a child in over 850 years.

“I have Tom Riddle's portrait taken from the ruins of his own Grandfather's estate. It is my intention to attempt to pull him from the darkness using the aura contained in his animated image. Once the aura is called forth it will call the resonance of the last soul fragment that exists and with the use of the proper sorcery and incantations call fourth the fragment from beyond.”

Salazar looked at his great granddaughter with slight surprise. He was well aware she was skilled, resourceful and quite clever. She had managed to survive through all these centuries when all others in their families had turned to dust ages before…including himself. He had a great respect for this young lady even though her present appearance was nothing like he remembered of her as a young woman in Moldavia in the 12th century.

Even so he wasn't certain she possessed the necessary skill to succeed nor was he certain it was even necessary.

“Are you certain you wish to bring him back? He was, after all, the architect of his own destruction - undermined at almost every turn by his own ignorance, greed and lack of knowledge. I am uncertain what value he could be to our cause in this present climate.”

“While I agree with your assessment for the most part Great Grandfather,” Zalina implored, “it is nothing more than the grip of utter fear his re-emergence would cause throughout the wizard world. There was a time when nothing more than his name struck terror in the hearts and minds of all who heard it. Even in some places in the Muggle world he was well known.”

“I will use him to strike back against the existing tide of arrogance that now exists and bring purity buck to our world. It will be I, this time, who will be in control. Tom Riddle will be nothing more than a puppet to initiate the turning of the tide. When the task is done he will be returned to the darkness…permanently!”

“The streets will run with the blood of those who are not worthy and your dream of a pure, united world of magic will prevail.”

Zalina looked at the portrait of her Great Grandfather with such a manic smile he could see the utter conviction in her cause.

“What about those who stood in his path before, Sallispell?” Salazar asked, still skeptical.

“The great Albus Dumbledore is no longer a threat and the one left to take his place will not be a factor either.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Zalina smiled. A dark, dangerous gleam flashed in her ethereal violet eyes.

“Because, it is he who will be used to contain the life force of Tom Riddle. He already possesses the vessel necessary to contain a human soul.”

Salazar nodded, matching his great granddaughter's smile with a devious one of his own.

“And you have the knowledge to make this come to pass?” He asked.

“That is why I am here Great Grandfather,” Zalina replied, “I need certain information only you possess in order to prepare the vessel. It is the only piece of the puzzle I do not know.

“I am aware of the procedure to create a Horcrux and the necessary skills to capture the vessel but I need the incantations to open the vessel from within a human form. This particular vessel was created by mistake. It was formed by the convergence of the killing curse and a form of ancient magic I know not. I must possess that knowledge to proceed.”

Salazar's image contemplated for a moment but then he cast a rather sardonic look at his great granddaughter's new lovely features. He thought back over the centuries of all those who had attempted just what this woman intended and all had failed. Even his own attempts at purging the world of the impure had met with ultimate disaster in the end. He was almost certain this time would be no different.

As his eyes took in her rather generous cleavage and curvaceous slender frame a distant memory of something his father had told him once came to the surface of his thoughts. He had asked his father what he thought was the noblest way for a man to meet his fate.

His father's response was, “It is better for a man to die fighting for a worthy cause instead of wasting away pondering his own mortality.” He remembered his father had turned and smacked a young servant girl on her pert bottom then turned back to him grinning, “Or perhaps caught in act of defiling a youthful, lusty maiden! Either is acceptable as far as I'm concerned.”

He also knew this seemingly gorgeous creature standing before him now possessed magic that belonged to no-one else either before or after his time. He knew her ability to exist across the great expanse of centuries since her birth was bourn out of nothing more than her sheer primal desire to live. It was a remarkable gift and one he wished he could have possessed himself before old age claimed him.

Perhaps this time…

“I will give you the knowledge you seek to help you succeed in your quest Sallispell,” Salazar said smiling down at her. “Just out of curiosity, what name are you using these days so when word comes to me I will know it is you they are speaking of?”

Zalina smiled that rather dark devious grin of hers.

“It is a name even you could be proud of Great Grandfather…”

She pulled her wand and turned away from his image. With a well practiced hand she carved her name in a thin flaming script in mid-air. Three words appeared there suspended in front of the portrait.

Zalina Sheryl Star…

“Very appropriate my child. It has a very sensual sound when spoken.” he grinned.

She looked at her great grandfather over her shoulder playfully and with a swish of wand and free hand crossed one over the other.

As they watched the flaming letters began re-arranging themselves to form two words instead of three.

The painted image of the Hogwarts Co-Founder gaped in wonder and with great pleasure at what he saw…

Salazar Slytherin.

“Brilliant my darling,” Salazar beamed, “however I have heard there was another who possessed the same talent, yes?”

His great granddaughter's faced darkened ever so slightly but she smiled up at him just the same.

“Who do you think taught him how to do it?”

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29. Chapter 29 - The Dueling Club

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Twenty Nine - The Dueling Club

Hermione had not seen much of any of her former not-so-close friends since the term had started a few days prior. Just getting settled into her classes and adjusting to the demanding duties as Head Girl was difficult and draining. The sad part about it was that she didn't even have all that much homework yet but she knew that was about to change very quickly.

Allowing some of her prefects to cover some of the rounds had been a stroke of genius and helped ease some of the pressure off herself and Neville.

She was a bit surprised to find that the Headmistress had made Ginny Weasley one of the Gryffindor prefects. After she had discovered this Hermione had expected there to be some friction between them but Ginny had, for the most part, not acknowledged there was anything untoward between them…in fact she had not said more than two words to Hermione during the meeting she and Neville had with the Prefects a few days before. Ginny had simply deferred to Neville and while it grated on Hermione's sense of vanity a bit she kept it to herself.

Ginny, it seemed, spent most of her time with Dean and Seamus and a few other Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls. Most of the time she acted as if Hermione simply didn't exist.

Hermione realized that being disconnected from the rest of the student body due to her authoritative position had a way of finding one's self seated alone most times.

Ron and Neville, the latter with Luna of course, would join her on occasion but for the most part she was content to keep her own company during meals. Most of the time she only stayed in the great hall just long enough to eat then retreated to the sanctuary of the Hogwarts library.

Even though, she began to notice there were now, more than ever before, students from different Houses sitting together at mealtimes.

It was comforting to see the sharp lines of segregation that seemed to define each individual House were softening somewhat. There were now, more than ever before students crossing those lines to sit with friends or just chat one-another up for a while.

It seemed to give Hogwarts a much more casual and laid-back feel. Even though Hermione still felt a bit like an outcast she didn't seem to stand out like she used to. The students, especially those who knew her just seemed to regard her as the Head Girl, someone to avoid if you didn't want detention. That, to her was much better than being the bossy, insufferable know-it-all.

It might have been depressing to know she had to accept being the lesser of two evils if she really cared all that much about it any longer.

What surprised her was there also seemed to be an underlying begrudging respect for her. It wasn't something she could see or hear it was more the way most simply regarded her from a distance. Some of the younger students were a bit less subtle about their awe of the Amazing Hermione Granger - one of the Golden Trio but even that seemed to dwindle as time went on. When they realized she didn't levitate when she walked or shoot sparks out of her arse they just saw her as one of them…with the unfortunate ability to take House points.

As Ginny slid onto the bench across from her Hermione looked up from her Advanced Potions Essay surprised to see the gorgeous red-head sitting there.

“You're not going to hex me or anything are you?” Ginny asked with a smirk.

“What?” Hermione's brows came together, as she squinted at her. “No! Why the bloody hell would I do that?”

Ginny shifted a slender shoulder, “I don't know. I guess it's because we haven't had much of a chance to talk.” Ginny reached across the table and stole some celery slices from Hermione's plate. She dipped them in the dressing and munched as she looked Hermione right in the eye, “I just figured you were still sore at me from Fred's funeral.”

Hermione looked a bit puzzled but then quickly understood.

“Oh…well,” She grimaced, “I'll admit I was a bit miffed at you on Harry's behalf but it was just he hadn't talked to you yet and he really didn't understand what was going on. It wasn't you I was sore at that night. I believe it was your gormless brother I was looking to change into a toad but even that wasn't the half of it.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked.

Hermione gave her a brief synopsis of what had taken place in Australia and the memory problems with her parents. Having Ron running around like an escaped drunk circus chimp just added to the stress.

Ginny sat wide-eyed with her hand clamped firmly over her gaping mouth looking at Hermione with real horror.

“Oh, Hermione I…I'm so sorry,” Ginny gasped, “I had no idea! Why didn't you tell us? We would have been glad to help you. All of us! Do mum and dad know about this?”

Hermione blanched.

“Erm…no…no they don't and I would just as soon it stay that way if you please. That's all been sorted out now…besides, we thought it best to keep it hushed up until we could figure it all out. Gods, I don't think I could have handled the bloody fallout from it. Things were bad enough when the Prophet tagged us as the bleeding Golden Trio!”

“I know,” Ginny said darkly, “I knew you and Harry would just be thrilled about that.” She flashed a glance at Hermione at the mention of Harry's name, “I suppose you've been wondering…”

Hermione threw up a hand to stop her.

“Ron and I have had a long talk,” she said, “He explained everything.”

Ginny's face flushed with anger.

“What do you mean explained everything?! Ron doesn't really know anything! I'll kill him for running his mouth again!”

“Calm down Ginny,” Hermione said quietly, “I think he and Harry had a talk before we came to school. Harry was reluctant to talk to me about it but I think it was because he was one of the few who knew what I was going through. At least what Ron told me about the way Harry left things between you two at Dumbledore's funeral made sense. He told me you felt betrayed and left behind. To be honest I can't find any fault with that logic. I would have felt the same way. I also realize it didn't make things any easier for you knowing that he allowed me to tag along. Believe it or not I understand all that better than you think. I'm surprised you don't hate me.”

Ginny sighed.

“I don't hate anyone Hermione, least of all you but I'm not going to pretend I wasn't angry. Yes, I felt left behind and I suppose I did feel a bit betrayed but I really did try to reason that it was for my own…protection he did it. I think I failed miserably on that score but even so, that's not why I got back together with Dean. I didn't do it to spite Harry or get back at him.”

“I believe you,” Hermione replied, “I know Dean was completely mad about you and I know you two had history. You sort-of tossed him over to be with Harry didn't you? Not hard to understand, really.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“I really thought I loved him Hermione,” Ginny said softly.

“I know Ginny,” Hermione said with a smile, “You've been crushing on Harry since our second year. I think I was gone on a certain Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at the time.”

“Oh Merlin,” Ginny laughed, “I remember that! I think we all were. Boy, were we ever off the mark with that git!” Ginny looked seriously at Hermione for a moment, “So are you and Ron…”

“Let's just say I've been able to put an enormous amount of anger and irritation for your brother aside at least for the duration of the term anyway.”

Ginny nodded, “I heard about the fight he had with Draco on the train. I'm surprised you didn't toss them both off by the scruff while we were speeding through the Highlands.”

“The thought did occur to me. I won't lie but apparently Ministry Decree #759 prevents that.”

“Oh Merlin, that's right!” Ginny said, “Mum was so upset with him. Believe me, he got off easy. She was trying to convince Dad to get the Muggle Prime Minister to put him in the British Military. It was Percy who saved him. It was his idea to get him sent to Hogwarts.”

“Turn's out that little girlfriend he's so gone on is twenty-two. She's a known prostitute and if that wasn't enough she's got nude pictures in a rag called The Sassy Sorcerer. Lee Jordon found her in an old copy he had.”

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. She sat there gaping at Ginny wide-eyed.

“Oh…oh, Ginny,” Hermione said putting a hand over her mouth, “No wonder your mum wanted his head on a pig pole!”

“You didn't know about any of that?” Ginny asked.

“No,” she replied, “Well, I knew the things the Prophet had written but not all that!”

“Well,” Ginny added, “To be honest I don't think Ron knew either. I'm not really sure how it all came out.”

“I did see a picture of him with a little blond trollop but,” Hermione sighed, “I was immersed in my own world of troubles at the time and had no patience to peruse the Prophet much.”

“I suppose I can understand that,” Ginny said, “So why didn't Harry come back? Ron said he was doing something with Kingsley but he couldn't give me any details.”

“That's because Ron doesn't have any details and neither do I. Some silly hush-hush training program for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is all I know.”

Ginny's face fell, “You must be joking? You'd think he's had enough of all that by now!”

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders. She was becoming a bit uncomfortable talking about Harry. Part of her wanted to keep her and Harry's relationship to themselves but she knew Ginny would find out eventually. She was surprised Ron hadn't said anything about it to her already but she was tired of keeping secrets and tired of hiding things. She wanted to move forward with a clear conscience…besides Ginny had Dean now.

“Look Ginny, there's something you should know,” Hermione paused to take a breath, “this past summer Harry and I…well…we kind of…found one-another. We spent some time on holiday together. I just needed to get out of the wizard world for a while. I felt I was being crushed by the weight of stress and guilt and…well Harry was there for me…and well…”

At first Ginny said nothing. Her face was completely unreadable but after a moment she broke out in a wide, knowing grin. What she said next almost floored Hermione.

“Well it's about bloody time!”

“Wha…what do you…,” Hermione stammered.

“Oh come on Hermione!” Ginny chuckled, “It's about time you finally admitted you're crazy about Harry bloody Potter. I'll bet you've been crazy about him from the beginning haven't you?”

“Well how…I,” Hermione's faced flushed hot.

“I knew it!” Ginny clapped her hands to her face laughing.

Hermione looked around. Luckily no-one was paying them much attention with the exception of a few second-year Gryffindor girls.

“You mean you're not angry?” Hermione looked at Ginny.

“Should I be?” Ginny asked quite unexpectedly, “Now if you would have figured it out when Harry and I were still together I would have hexed your ears off but that was just because I was possessive and spiteful then. I'd have done the same thing if you'd gone after Michael Corner when he and I were together but that would have been a bit strange. He was too young for you. Truthfully, no Hermione, I have nothing to be angry about. Not now. I've made my choice and everything inside tells me I've made the right one.”

“Little fiery red-head grows up.” Hermione laughed, “I'm happy for you Ginny. I really am.”

“Hey, it had to happen sometime yes?” Ginny smiled, “I'm just glad Harry's found someone and I couldn't think of anyone better for him then you, Hermione. It's like Ron said. Who knows Harry better than you do? He bludgeoned me over the head with my own guilt when he made me realize by not getting back together with Harry he was going to be all alone. He had no one. It hurt a lot to realize that Hermione but I wasn't going to pretend and lie to him. I wouldn't do that. I couldn't even to spare him from being alone. I think it would have made things worse.”

Hermione nodded, “He told me he had a lot of respect for you for being honest with him. That took real courage. I don't know if I could have. I couldn't imagine looking into those lost, lonely eyes of his and…well I think you know better then anyone.”

Ginny smiled sadly.

“The only reason I told you Ginny is that I'm tired of carrying around secrets and hiding things. I'm so over all that. I just want to move forward and get on with my life. It's hard enough living in a bubble with the media and crazed well wishers hounding us every moment. It's one of the reasons I came here and it's the main reason Harry didn't.”

“He would have been safe here, wouldn't he?” Ginny asked.

“I suppose,” Hermione smirked, “From all the outside attention.” She swept her hand around the Great Hall.

Ginny nodded in understanding, “I think I get the point. So he's going to be a big bad Auror huh? How do you feel about that?”

That question surprised Hermione. It's the first time anyone had asked her how she felt about Harry's decision.

“I don't know Gin. It's like Harry said before he left. He's been practically living the life of an Auror for the past six years anyway with everything that has happened so why not get paid for it.”

Ginny burst out laughing loudly. It was a sound full of happiness and life. Hermione couldn't help but laugh along with her.

“A good a reason as any I suppose!” Ginny responded.

“At least he'll be with blokes who'll watch his back.” Hermione added, “Wow, I feel much better now. Thanks for talking with me. That helped a lot.”

Ginny got up and reached across the table and pulled Hermione into a tight embrace.

“You're not the only one who feels a bit lighter,” Ginny said, “We've known one-another too long and have been through too much together not to be able to talk about anything, know what I mean?”

“You're absolutely right Ginny,” Hermione beamed, “and I'll not forget that. It's amazing that the cleverest witch of her age can be taught a lesson in common sense by a cheeky little red-headed seeker who throws a wicked bat-bogey hex.”

“Hey,” Ginny was laughing again, “don't forget drop-dead gorgeous and quite modest as well!”

“Merlin forbid,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Well, I better shove off. Speaking of seeker I think I might try out for the team this year.” Ginny added.

“You'll probably make Captain,” Hermione said as she packed away her things in her backpack.

“That would be fun, bossing around a bunch of blokes. I'd have to pinch a page from the Hermione Granger Guide to Lecturing Brainless Oafs,” she grinned, “See you round Head Girl.”

“Not if I see you first Weasley!” Hermione replied.

As Hermione sat watching the youngest Weasley head toward the entrance hall she couldn't help but feel a subtle warmth come over her as a result of their talk. Hermione also felt a slight sense of relief from the pressing stress and strain her position as Head Girl had thrust upon her.

It was good to know some of her classmates she had come to know over the years seemed to understand her situation much more than she had realized. She began entertaining the possibility this year just might not be as excruciating as she had first expected.

One can only hope!

Thoughts of Harry filled her mind for a moment. She was desperately trying to replace the scene when she left for King's Cross with a happier memory but it was a struggle. Part of her wanted to pop over to the Ministry and demand Kingsley Shacklebolt tell her where he was so she could see him but decided to settle for a compromise instead…

Later that evening she found herself in the library pouring her heart and feelings into one of her now infamous novella-length dissertations. It was the best she could do at present.

If that kept up she was going to single-handedly put every Hogwarts postal owl into traction before all was said and done.

---@>---

The introduction to their new classes had been rather exciting. The possibility of gaining new magical skills and knowledge from fresh perspectives was one of the few things Hermione was excited about when classes began in earnest.

Everyone realized almost at once the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class was going to be the best D.A.D.A. yet. While all agreed Professor Lupin's classes had been very informative and fun, Professor Dervish promised to be even more hands-on and in depth.

Apparently after finding some notes about the previous (so called) Professor Lockhart's blundered attempt at forming a Dueling Club - of sorts - the ever exuberant Dervish had approached Headmistress McGonagall about trying to resurrect the idea. She had made it very clear what she thought of his predecessor's previous attempt - she commented that it had taken off about as well as an inebriated Erumpent.

She could not really find any reason not to approve other than the obvious concerns about student safety and the like but in the end she had even assisted Professor Dervish in putting together a controlled and relatively safe program with clear rules and regulations for competitors that she felt would be a fun and - as much as she was loath to admit it - exciting new organized competition.

It wasn't long until the students started seeing announcements put up - care of old Filch - all over the school as well as sign-up sheets posted in all the common rooms in the dorms.

The new Hogwarts Dueling Club was to meet every Thursday after classes were done for the day (in the beginning, any way) for entry and determining initial competitive placement into several different divisions based on age, magical skill level and other important criteria.

The different divisions of the club had been classified in the following manner;

Level 4 - All first through third year students with passing marks.

Level 3 - All fourth and fifth year students with passing marks as well as the entry level D.A.D.A. class completed.

Level 2 - All sixth and seventh year students with passing marks as well as the intermediate level D.A.D.A. class completed.

Level 1 - Any advanced-level student showing proficient skill and mastery of defensive magic with acceptable marks in all other subjects and enrolled in the advanced level D.A.D.A. class.

However, students in the lower levels could advance to higher ones by being victorious in their respective individual matches and could, if they were either very skilled or very lucky, find themselves in competition for the ultimate prize - The First Annual Hogwarts Dueling Club Championship.

The overall champion would be awarded a prize (to be determined) and a large gold cup trophy Professor Dervish had created using his own funds. The cup would be displayed in the winner's House trophy case and would bear the winners name for the whole following year until the next season's champion was crowned.

The rules were fairly straight forward and mostly common sense stuff.

1. No unforgivable curses. (Obviously)

2. No magic could be used that might cause permanent bodily injury.

3. No magic could be used to cause a competitor to expel any type of bodily fluids (That request came from Argus Filch. He flat refused to clean up any of those type messes!)

4. No magic could be used that might permanently alter a competitor's physical appearance or cellular structure.

5. No magic could be used to remove a competitor from the location of the competition. (Not that they would be very successful seeing how no-one can move in and out of Hogwarts by magical means but…stranger things have happened!)

6. No elemental magic could be employed (Air, fire, water or earth type manipulation spells allowed. The Headmistress felt the school had suffered enough damage and abuse to last a lifetime.)

7. No magic could be used to summon weapons or other objects that could be used to either inflict damage or shield a competitor during any duel.

For the most part, other than that, the competitor could use just about any other means at his or her disposal to outwit and outmaneuver the competition.

The winner of the match was the one that successfully captured their opponent's wand.

It didn't take long for a vast majority of the student body to queue up to get involved with the new and improved Dueling Club. It was the sole topic of discussion for days after the initial announcement.

Many of the other older and better established clubs that had existed at Hogwarts for centuries found their memberships dwindling in the wake of this new and exciting idea.

The poor Gobstones Club - for which Neville Longbottom had unwittingly found himself Captain of the Gryffindor team - had all but been disbanded due to lack of interest. A few diehard members remained but it found itself becoming not much more than a hobby club of sorts.

While the Quidditch Teams still began to organize for the year's upcoming battle for the House Cup, even they were struggling with filling all the necessary positions on all four teams.

Concessions had to be made by allowing those students who were now 18 years old into the competition due to the lack of underclass interest. That made the Headmistress a bit nervous but it wasn't that she had much choice. She secretly harbored a fond affection for Quidditch since seeing a half-Muggle first year bespectacled boy perform some rather incredible aerial feats to fetch a Remember-All even thought the lad had never been on a broom in his life. It still gave her the shivers to think about it knowing what he would grow up to accomplish in such an astoundingly short period of time.

Headmistress McGonagall also thought it prudent - after finding out the sheer volume of students interested in trying their hands in the competition - to enlist the assistance of a few other Professors to help Professor Dervish in maintaining order and fair play during the competitions.

She gave Assistant Headmaster Flitwick ultimate authority to administer over any disputes and the mysterious Professor Sinistra to help with keeping things in order.

When the sign-up scrolls had been collected from each House dorm common room most had to be magically lengthened to get all the names of would-be competitors on the lists.

Professor Sinistra was a bit skeptical about the whole concept of the Dueling club at first until she had made a comment to Professor Dervish one evening regarding student interest in the club. It was really nothing more than the memory of the incompetent oaf Gilderoy Lockhart's ridiculous and feeble attempt at doing something similar that caused hesitation in her mind.

“Do you think there will be many who will want to compete Professor Dervish,” she asked feeling a bit bemused by the whole thing.

When Professor Dervish picked up the sign-up scroll from Ravenclaw House the roll slipped from his fingers, hit the stone floor of the D.A.D.A. class and rolled all the way to the door of the classroom.

All three Professors stood gawking at the parchment stretched clear across the room in silent astonishment. It was a stunned Professor Flitwick who finally broke the silence…

“I suppose that answers that question wouldn't you agree Professor Sinistra?”

“Indeed,” she replied with hand covering her gaping mouth.

It would take several weeks to settle all the potential competitors into their respective classes so the actual competition could begin but one thing was absolutely certain - it was going to be fun to watch!

Most of the usual suspects queued up to get into the Dueling Club and Ronald B. Weasley was right out there front and center. He was boasting to anyone who would listen that one of the Golden Trio would take the prize the first go round.

Most of the original D.A. members also joined and in the first level of competition faired quite well. Most of them advanced to the second round…all but a rather stunned and disgruntled Ron.

In his first (and last) match he was matched up with a rather skilled and clever little Ravenclaw girl who dumped him on his backside and snatched his wand a mere 15 seconds into their match.

Needless to say Ron didn't have very many nice things to say about the Dueling Club after that. He went on to sign up for the Gryffindor Quidditch team instead.

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30. Chapter 30 -Lessons Learned

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Thirty - Lessons Learned

The new school term started with all the subtly of a raging tsunami for Hermione. Balancing a full class schedule with her Head Girl duties was difficult but not unmanageable yet. She knew that was subject to change in a moment's notice.

During her time patrolling the mostly silent corridors and hallways she thought about Harry and found herself missing him so badly sometimes it was physically painful. This separation was going to test her resolve like never before.

She had never been so attached to anyone outside her family so strongly before so it was difficult to deal with at times. Loneliness seemed to follow her wherever she went even when she found herself in a classroom full of people she had known for years.

It just wasn't the same without him, the hole that resided inside her nothing but a blank void. The more she tried to bury herself in her studies the more acute it seemed to become.

As Hermione turned the corner of the hallway leading down to the Slytherin dorm, she spotted Draco Malfoy going the other way.

She stiffened. They had heard practically nothing from him since term started with the exception of that ridiculous duel Ron had with him on the Hogwarts Express but that hadn't been his fault.

As she approached him, she decided to handle the situation just as she would any other student breaking the rules so she quelled any indignation she might be feeling towards him.

“Draco,” she called out.

Even though Hermione had decided to exercise impartiality, she wasn't stupid. She held her wand down next to her leg, hidden in the folds of her cloak.

Draco froze mid-stride and stood still without turning around to face her.

“You know you're not supposed to be out in the halls at this hour. Surly I don't have to recite Hogwarts rules and regulations to you, do I?”

Draco still did not turn, but Hermione could see both his hands. They were wand free. He simply stood there, head slightly bowed and shoulders slumped. It was an odd look for someone who was once so arrogant and proud. If Hermione didn't know him so well she would have thought him to look a bit sad.

Most everyone knew by now he had spent several months locked up in Azkaban prison for the roll he played in letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It would have been much longer if Harry had not spoken on his behalf at his trial, which angered Ron to no end. She had no opinion on Harry's motives one way or the other.

According to the Daily Prophet, Draco had been required to return to Hogwarts as a part of his punishment. His mother wanted to transfer him to Durmstrang for obvious reasons.

“Couldn't sleep,” was Draco's mumbled reply.

“Be that as it may,” Hermione said evenly, not taking her eyes from his back, “I can't have you out and about. Please return to the dorm or I'll be forced to give you detention.”

He turned slowly but still didn't look at her.

“Bet that would make your day, wouldn't it?”

Hermione had to think about that for a moment.

“No, actually,” she answered truthfully, “It wouldn't. You see, Draco, unlike most others I'm not the vindictive type. I don't go round looking for vengeance. As Head Girl it is my duty to administer rules and keep students in line, nothing more.”

Draco glanced at her then as if trying to decide if she was being honest or not. He seemed to deflate even further as he turned to go back toward the Slytherin dorm.

This surprised Hermione. She was fully expecting a fight, or at least a heated exchange of barbed comments.

Things have changed!

Just before he reached the entrance, curiosity got the better of her.

“What was it like, Draco?” Hermione asked cryptically. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. There was no malice or condemnation in it.

Draco stopped. This time he looked at her, but could not hold her eyes.

“What was what like?”

“A…Azkaban,” She wasn't sure why she was asking. She wasn't sure she even cared to know.

Draco's face seemed to darken but his resigned appearance didn't change. It was as if he was struggling with some kind of internal dilemma. His face then crumpled into a sneer.

“Why do you want to know Granger? Would it get you off to hear about my suffering and pain?”

Hermione kept her temper even. She would not allow Draco the satisfaction of knowing he could get to her, not anymore. She had changed and come to terms with many emotions over the past months. She felt she had risen above the need to punch ferret-faced little gits in the nose.

“Ahh, now there's that warm and friendly Malfoy disposition we've all come to know and dislike.”

She smiled at him sweetly as she turned to continue her rounds. As she made her way to the end of the hall, she heard him speak.

“It was like living in a nightmare…one that I couldn't wake up from.”

Hermione stopped and turned back to face him. She considered his words for a moment.

I know the feeling well…

“I'm sorry you had to experience that Draco. I really am.”

“I don't need or want your sympathy…” Draco spit.

“Don't misinterpret regret for sympathy,” Hermione said flatly, “Make no mistake. I have none for you. You completely brought everything that has happened to you on yourself. However, I take no satisfaction from the price you've had to pay for your lack of judgment. Keep in mind, Draco it could have been much, much worse.”

“Worse!” Draco stiffened.

“Yes,” Hermione said calmly, “If your mother had not betrayed Voldemort and spared Harry's life that night in the forest you would have more than likely been made to walk the vale.”

Draco seemed to be turning her words over in his mind.

“If my mother hadn't betrayed the Dark Lord we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. You'd be in a dungeon in chains somewhere or dead.”

Inwardly Hermione cringed but she showed no emotion.

“Perhaps you're right but do you really believe that what your mother did changed the outcome of the entire conflict?” Hermione took a few steps toward him.

“Believe me Draco, no-one is more grateful for what your mother did for Harry than I am and I supported his decision to speak on your behalf at your trial but even I don't believe what happened at that moment was the deciding factor in this conflict. There were just too many of us who wanted to live and to be free to ever just roll over and lay dead. Get what I'm saying?”

Draco said nothing.

Thoughts and theories rushed to the front of Hermione's mind all at once.

“Did you ever ask yourself why Voldemort could never destroy Harry? Did it ever occur to you why just about every plan Voldemort made failed in its execution?”

Again, Draco stood silently. It was as if he was reluctant to interrupt her.

“It certainly wasn't because our side was stronger or cleverer. It was because, like you, Voldemort brought the whole thing upon himself. He was the architect of his own demise and the fact that he never trusted those he surrounded himself with.”

That brought a look of surprise to Draco's face.

He doesn't understand. He believes that we were the ones who got in the way of Voldemort's plans. Not surprising. Supreme, self-serving superiority is like that.

“It all goes back to when Snape told Voldemort of the prophecy he overheard Trelawney spit out the night Dumbledore interviewed her for the position of Divinations Professor all those years ago.”

“Voldemort thought Harry's parents had given birth to some…great and powerful warrior wizard that would grow up to destroy him. The amusing part is that he was completely wrong! Harry was just a normal baby and if Voldemort would have done nothing, Harry would have grown up just another normal child and would have posed no threat to anyone…probably.”

She wasn't exactly convinced of that herself but she pressed on. She was on a roll.

“But Voldemort, in his supreme arrogance, sought to destroy Harry before he had a chance to ruin his plans of world conquest. In so doing, he marked Harry as his equal, instilling in Harry the very powers he needed to destroy Voldemort when the time came. He activated an ancient magic that protected Harry thus fulfilling that barmy prophecy.”

“All Voldemort's subsequent attempts to kill Harry failed…Why...Because of Voldemort's lack of knowledge not superior magical skill.”

Draco continued to look at the floor but Hermione noticed that he swallowed hard as if he was trying to ingest something that tasted horribly unpleasant.

Something occurred to Hermione and she shifted tact.

“Tell me Draco, why couldn't you kill Dumbledore that night up on the Astronomy tower? You disarmed him? He was quite vulnerable.”

Draco suddenly looked ill. His eyes flashed at Hermione but she continued not waiting for a response.

“You think it was because of weakness on your part, don't you? Isn't that what your lot led you to believe?”

Draco looked stricken.

“It was weakness! I couldn't do it because I was...I was…afraid…”

“Afraid of what?” Hermione asked, “I'm going to tell you something you'll refuse to believe. To me, your inability to kill Dumbledore wasn't a weakness…it was very thing that saved you.”

Draco didn't respond. He clearly didn't want to continue the conversation and turned to go back in the Slytherin dorm.

“Arrogant superiority, Draco, was the whole reason why Voldemort failed!”

Draco paused.

“What do you mean by that?”

Hermione knew he was curious. She wasn't sure why she thought it was important for him to understand the truth but something inside her spurred her forward.

“Why were you in the position of facing down one of the greatest wizards of all time in the first place? It was out of fear was it not? Don't stand there and try to make me believe it was because you wanted to serve the Dark Lord. I know why you accepted your mission to smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It was because of the failures of your father. Voldemort threatened you with the death of your parents if you didn't fulfill that ridiculously flawed plan. You and your family were expendable. Do you really think Voldemort cared if you or your mother or father died serving him?”

“The plan wasn't ridiculous…It would have worked if…” Draco paused as if he was searching for the right answer.

“If there hadn't been an entire school full of students and professors that resisted and one Slytherin student who realized what he was doing was so very wrong?”

“No…” Draco whispered, “Dumbledore still died!”

“Yes, he did Draco,” Hermione smiled sadly, “just as he had planned with Snape from the beginning.”

Now Draco looked stunned like he had taken a bludger to the head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“That's right. Dumbledore was dying anyway. It was from an…affliction he had acquired from something else. He used his death to keep Professor Snape in Voldemort's good books so when the time came Professor Snape could assist Harry in destroying the Dark Lord.”

Hermione wasn't about to go into details about Horcruxes and Hallows with Draco. She felt she could make her point without all that besides; he didn't need to know anyway.

“Snape's loyalty to Voldemort died with Lilly Potter.”

Draco's head snapped up and he glared at her wide-eyed at that bit of information.

“Yes Draco, Severus Snape was, at one time, in love with Lilly Evans-Potter. When Voldemort killed Harry's parents that night all those years ago he lost Professor Snape. As difficult as it might be for you to believe he was instrumental in helping Dumbledore's counter-plans succeed.”

“NO…” Draco's face was turning red with anger, “he was trying to help me!”

“No Draco,” Hermione's voice was still calm and controlled, “he was trying to keep you alive because of the Unbreakable Vow he entered into with your mother while trying to make sure Harry succeeded. Oh believe me, Professor Snape didn't like the idea of helping Harry anymore than you liked the idea of killing the greatest wizard of all time. The thought of saving James Potter's offspring didn't set well with him at all…but he did it because he was loyal to Albus Dumbledore.”

Draco looked as if his entire world was crashing in ruins at his feet. How could she know these things? He couldn't believe it but he could not deny the things she said. It still didn't make it easier for him to hear.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Hermione considered that again.

“Because I'm trying to help you see the truth.”

“All your life you've been told things like honesty, bravery, compassion, tolerance, hope and love were weaknesses. You were told domination and control by hate and fear were the strengths needed to get you what you wanted. That was a lie. Surely even you can see that, yes?”

“No-one can maintain control of others by fear for very long. Not even someone like Voldemort. Fear of something or someone is not enough. After a time, people become weary of fear and strike back no matter what the cost because even death becomes an acceptable price for freedom.”

“The reason why Harry Potter succeeded against Voldemort had less to do with fate and a barmy prophecy and more to do with knowledge of the enemy and simple preparation. Dumbledore was almost always one step ahead of the Dark Lord so even if he happened to kill Harry, he still would have failed. Not because Voldemort was weak but because he was so predictable.”

“There were simply too many of us that wanted to succeed so we rallied around Harry to help him. We didn't do it because we had to or because he was the bloody Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One, we did it because it was the right thing to do and it was our choice to do so. It was even Harry's choice to do what he did. He didn't have to.”

Something else occurred to Hermione about the freedom of choice and it suddenly made her blood run cold.

“Harry told me once the Sorting Hat gave him a choice when he was first sorted. I wasn't sure I understood the implications of such a thing then but since have discovered just how important that decision was. If you remember, the hat's first choice for Harry was Slytherin House.”

Draco seemed to remember. He nodded. Hermione saw that he was deep in thought, considering everything she was telling him no matter how distasteful. That gave her hope.

“So I guess what I'm saying is we all made choices that effected the outcome of this conflict. I've been stunned, cursed, tortured at the hands of that spell damaged Aunt of yours, ostracized, insulted, and run out of two different worlds at one time or another…but would do it all again if it was necessary to have a life of peace without fear.”

“That's the difference between you and I Draco. We were taught to value very different things. That's not really either of our fault, is it?”

She fell silent for a moment and considered what life would have been like if Harry Potter had decided to go to Slytherin House. It was unthinkable but she knew the outcome would have been no different. He was too pure and too much like Sirius to be swayed by evil.

“I'm not going to pretend you and I could ever be friends. There's just too much that has happened between us to be put aside. I'm not quite that forgetful or forgiving I'm afraid. I won't lie.”

“But it doesn't mean I would want you to suffer for your mistakes for the rest of your life. I just want you to think about what I've said and try to understand you may have been misled. It's not because you chose to believe what you were told but because I believe you knew the difference between what was right and wrong when it counted and that makes you better than Voldemort. He was a madman convinced of his own self-importance and invincibility.”

“Guess what…he was wrong as well.” Hermione looked at her shoes for a moment then glanced back up at him. Draco Malfoy looked completely wrung out.

“I think that's why Harry asked Voldemort to show a little remorse that night in the Great Hall. He was giving him one final chance to change. Not bad for a seventeen year old under-achiever in his cousin's hand-me-down trousers and trainers held together more by habit than anything.”

Hermione realized she had spent too much time talking and was falling behind in her duties.

“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “I think I've lectured you quite enough for one evening. I'll expect three feet of parchment on what we've discussed tonight on my desk first thing in the morning or it will mean detention and ten points from Slytherin.”

Draco raised an eyebrow but then a slight smirk crossed his lips as he looked at her. She was grinning as well.

Hermione turned to hurry to catch up on her rounds.

“Granger,” Draco called after her.

Hermione stopped and turned back toward him, “Yes?”

“For what it's worth,” he paused not sure if he wanted to finish his thought, but then said, “I'm sorry.”

Hermione stood frozen in place.

“For what Draco?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Don't know…for everything I guess.”

Hermione wasn't sure if he was being sincere or just placating her but it didn't matter. She wasn't going to belittle the importance of what she was hearing.

“Thank you Draco…that means more to me then you can possibly imagine.”

She smiled and turned the corner. She heard him re-enter the dorm room as she made her way up the hallway.

For the first time in months, Hermione Granger felt she had accomplished something important. She didn't know if she had gotten through the generations of prejudice and hate but she thought by trying, instead of subjecting him to ridicule and anger, it was a much more mature position to take.

Hermione Jean Granger…you certainly are growing up!

She smiled all the way back to the Head student's dorm.

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31. 31 - Changes

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Thirty One - Changes

Draco Malfoy sat in the Slytherin common room unwittingly contemplating the conversation he just had with the new Head Girl. The information she had given him and the things she said made him feel even worse than he already did.

What he had told her was true. The months he had spent in Azkaban prison was like a horrible nightmare that never seemed to end. To relive your worst fears haunted by all the things that lurked in the deep dark recesses of ones mind over and over was enough to debilitate even the strongest of wizards.

…And now he was here…

It was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

He couldn't help but wonder what his life would have been like if the Dark Lord had succeeded. Would he have been held in higher regard? Would his family been treated like Wizard royalty?

After the conversation with the torrid little Mudblood princess, she seemed to be convinced the answer to that question was a resounding - NO!

In truth, Lord Voldemort valued no-one but himself. It was something Draco had figured out when he had to watch his own father walk the vale deep in the bowls of the Ministry's Department of Mysteries.

He was forced to admit Granger had been right about something else as well. His father had failed Lord Voldemort - more than once. He, himself had failed. He could not utter the spell that would have ended Albus Dumbledore's life.

Why?

The bigger question he found himself asking was…why did he want to kill Dumbledore in the first place?

His conclusion was that, if he was to be honest with himself, Granger had also been right about his allegiance to the Dark Lord. He didn't want to serve Voldemort…not really. He didn't want to serve anyone. It made him physically ill to admit that to himself but he could not deny the truth staring him in the face.

At first when he received the dark mark he thought it was acceptance into the adult world - that it would bring respect and fear from their enemies…but it didn't…did it.

Everyone still saw him as just Malfoy…just like before.

Being a member of what he had thought was an elite group should have brought him fame and glory…

What it had brought him, in the end, was nothing but pain and death and loss.

But what if we had won?

He couldn't help but think about all those Death Eaters who had fought and died for Voldemort.

For what?

Worm Tail, who was a sniveling coward but he had served Voldemort with unquestioned loyalty; Severus Snape who ended up being killed by Voldemort's own hand. Voldemort did nothing to save him. He did nothing to save any of them. They were all expendable, just pawns to be used.

The Dark Lord had been content to toss his whole family aside - Acceptable losses in the quest for his ultimate prize…

What ultimate prize? Wealth, power…invincibility, and what would we have gotten out of all of that?

It made him feel even worse to realize he couldn't answer that question either.

Hermione Granger's words echoed around in his head as he sat trying to come to terms with all that had transpired over the last several years. Try as he might he could not seem to envision what his life might have been like if the outcome had been different.

He tried to think if there was anything he could have done that might have made a difference but came up depressingly blank on that score. Would it have made a difference if they could have killed Potter in the Room of Requirement that night or maybe on the Hogwarts Express?

He suddenly realized that his enemy - the one he was sent to capture and deliver up to the Dark Lord - had saved his life on that very same night in the Room of Requirement … and he didn't have to…

Confusion and a horribly unsettled feeling made his stomach clench uncomfortably.

One thing was absolutely certain though…

The most powerful dark sorcerer of all time had fallen at the hands of that teen-aged half-wit Harry Potter…and it hadn't been by luck or accident.

He had seen…along with all the rest of them as Harry Bloody Potter dispatched the Dark Lord with nothing more than a simple first year disarming jinx. It was, much to Draco's utter dismay, on of the most astounding things he had ever witnessed.

Draco sat staring into the fireplace as he heard someone come in through the portal. He was much too lost in his own depressing musings to even care who it was.

When a lone figure finally breached his peripheral vision he looked up and discovered it was Pansy.

Draco's mood seemed to darken even further at the sight of her distraught features.

After he had tried to slip onto the Hogwarts Express un-noticed she had managed to find him. She had attempted to try and wedge herself between him and his misery but for some reason he didn't much feel like being comforted.

It wasn't her exactly. He liked her. She was even prettier than when she was younger. Not quite as attractive as the Mudblood or the Weaslette.

Merlin's ghost…someone had dumped a whole cauldron of hot and gorgeous all over the fiery little redhead (who was not so little anymore).

For some reason he didn't want to let Pansy in. He didn't want to let anyone in…and he had no idea why.

He continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye as she seemed to hover just at the edge of his periphery. It was becoming distracting so he stood and made his way to his dorm room where he knew she could not follow.

It's because she'll see…She'll see the fear. She'll discover how weak you've become!

The mere thought of it made him want to wretch and hurl himself off the Astronomy tower.

Just like Albus Dumbledore…

He threw himself on his bed, folding one arm behind his head. He watched Blaze Zabinni practice a complicated transfiguration of his quill into a sword. He thought he had managed it quite well until the sword started wilting like a dieing plant.

“Bugger,” Blaze spit.

The seemingly permanently confunded Crabb just guffawed as he watched.

“I'd like to see you do it then you big lummox,” Blaze threw at Crabb with a nasty look.

“Not even,” Crabb replied with a stupid smirk, “I know me limits mate.”

This innocuous conversation seemed to grate on Draco's nerves like a cheese grater. In days past he would have told them to both shut up but in his present state of mind he simply opted for tuning them out.

It was a lot easier than he realized as his mind drifted to his wand.

He reached over and took it from the bed-side stand and holding it up in front of his face he pondered why his wand didn't seem to want to work for him any longer.

Even the simplest spells didn't work. He had tried for days after being released from Azkaban to figure out why his wand no longer worked in his hands but he couldn't seem to manage it.

Seeing his apparent distress his mother had given him her own wand. His wand seemed to work relatively well for her but it was ill suited for anything even remotely complicated. The same seemed to go for her wand for him as well. It was almost embarrassing.

A talented and skillful witch in her own right, even Narcissa was at a loss for what was causing the wand not to respond.

She had spent almost a week pouring over books and texts in the rather meager Malfoy library but no answers could be found.

As a result of what had transpired up until and shortly after the fall of the Dark Lord, the Malfoy name was not as revered as it once had been so inquiring about the problem at the Ministry was simply out of the question.

Even though Harry Potter had testified on her behalf, telling an angry and vengeful Wizengamot how she had lied to Voldemort to save his life it had left little in the way of forgiveness or compassion for the Malfoys.

Watching Lucius walk the vale had not helped. Seeing the Malfoy matriarch stumble and crawl, sobbing and weeping and groveling for forgiveness had filled both her and her son with a horrible sense of shame and loathing for their once proud and defiant husband and father.

She had hated herself for feeling that way but at least he could have shown some dignity in the final moments of his life. Then again, she had never been faced with certain death either. She had reminded Draco of this more than once.

Draco had met his fate with much more poise and self control. He was scared…of course he was. He had seen what Azkaban had done to his Aunt. The place had driven Bellatrix completely insane.

He remembered what she had been like before she had been sent away. She had been rather quiet, reserved but exuded a competent power and strength. She had been beautiful like a dark Angel of the night - captivating and exotic.

The constant and continual exposure to the Dementors had twisted her into a ranting lunatic. The wild and disheveled appearance replaced whatever beauty she had possessed.

Draco remembered fearing the same would happen to him.

Three month on the inside of that place had felt like an eternity, the never-ending cold, the never-ending paranoia. It had infested his very soul like a disease.

Even after his release into the sobbing relief of his doting mother, the place had left indelible marks on him, both inside and out.

Not quite two weeks into his sentence he had found a rather flat piece of rock in his holding cell. He had spent almost a week scraping it to a sharp edge against the iron bars of the door to his stone edifice.

When the feelings of debilitating sadness and emptiness invaded his mind he would drag the sharp edge of the stone across the dark mark on his forearm. Each cut would not only drag his mind up from the depths of his subconscious it also served to obscure the vile symbol of the one he had come to hate more than any other.

Voldemort had replaced even Harry Potter as the target of his anger and disgust - and that was saying something significant.

This little ritual was the one thing that kept him from loosing himself to the madness that surrounded him like an oppressing weight but as his rotten luck would have it he had also contracted a rather nasty infection from his continually self-inflicted wounds.

He had spent a better part of two weeks in Saint Mungo's after his release recovering from a hideous fever that had left him thin and gaunt.

Once he had discovered the problem with his wand he just surmised it was the left-over effects of Azkaban that was causing it. When he finally told his mother about it he quickly discovered it was something more. Something else was causing his wand not to function and he still had no clue as to what it could be.

As he sat staring at his wand, spinning it slowly in his fingers, he suddenly realized someone who just might have the answers he needed…

…And it just happened to be the last person in the whole wizarding world who would probably help him.

He couldn't help but sigh dejectedly as he tossed his wand back on the bed side table with a feeling of utter disgust.

Life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was going to be almost as bad as being locked up with a bunch of soul-sucking monsters and humorless prison guards.

He just wanted to become invisible until it was all over.

The Headmistress, for some convoluted reason had decided to make him Slytherin Prefect. He had no desire to be a Prefect nor carry out the necessary duties of said position. It was partly his desire to remain invisible but the other was that she had made Pansy the other Prefect.

Although he did attend the mandatory Prefect meeting with the Head Boy and Girl he scarcely remembered what had transpired. Pansy had willingly clued him in later but he was only half listening then. He just wanted to be left alone!

It was late one night lying sleepless in bed when he was hit with an epiphany right out of the blue. He had no idea where the thought came from but he remembered…

He remembered what life had been like for Harry Snotty Potter after all the strange things began to occur in and around Hogwarts just prior to the re-emergence of the Dark Lord. Draco and all the Slytherins had reveled in the fact that everyone seemed to think Potter a tosspot…a nutter. He recalled how they all leered at him laughing and whispering and then it hit Draco like a cold slap in the face…

I know exactly what that's like! I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Went-To-Azkaban! Merlin's ghost…someone please just kill me now!

It had plagued his mind for days after and he spent most of his time just trying to dodge all the looks and whispers. What was even worse was that he knew, no matter how bad things got for him, Potter came through. In the end he had succeeded despite all the stress, pressure and pain they had inflicted upon him. It made him ill to think it…That Harry Potter was stronger…better than he was. It was a bitter pill to swallow but it didn't make it any less real. He wondered why the bloody Golden Sot had not returned to bask in the glory that was now his.

He remembered that Harry Potter possessed an extraordinary piece of magical equipment. An invisibility cloak!

Draco had heard about them from somewhere but he also knew they were very rare. There were cloaks and clothing that were imbibed with misdirection or disillusionment charms but they weren't the same…at least not like the cloak Potter possessed.

He jokingly wondered if Harry would let him borrow it for the length of the term so he could just go through the whole year without anyone being the wiser. He also thought maybe that was why he had not seen Potter yet. Maybe he was under the thing right now himself.

He also remembered he could have snatched it from the snot that day on the Hogwarts Express when he caught Harry hiding in the luggage rack above his head. He should have killed him then but Voldemort would have not been happy, not that it really mattered in the end. He was getting a bit weary of thinking about it all.

He found that some of the younger Slytherin students still revered him somewhat but most just simply looked at him like he had grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

He had become an oddity, an object to be stared at and whispered about behind hands. It was ridiculous and juvenile.

He just wanted to get the hell out of Hogwarts and get on with his miserable life with nothing to look forward to but endless days of being subjected to total scorn and dejection. Not a very pleasant prospect…

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32. 32 - Training Part 2

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 32 - Training Part 2

Everyone came immediately to their feet and stood stiffly, legs together, arms straight, hands by their sides, closed into fists, heads held high, eyes front, shoulders pulled back with chest pushed slightly outward.

Harry tried his best to copy the stout bloke next to him who seemed to be well practiced at the stance but Harry wasn't sure he was pulling off convincingly. Even the Patterson woman seemed to be well versed in this practice.

As Kingsley stepped up to the podium he peered out over the group for a moment. Harry watched as his eyes fell on him for a moment but passed on without acknowledgement. His first reaction was to be disappointed but realized quickly the Commander surly could not play favorites in a situation like this no matter what their own personal history was just as waving at him like a blithering idiot would be embarrassing and juvenile in the present circumstances.

The fact that Harry had recognized those things told him the words of the Director had penetrated his brain. He thought that was a promising start.

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen,” Kingsley said in his deep rumbling voice, “Please be seated and I'll make this brief as I'm sure you're all anxious to become familiar with your new surroundings.”

Everyone dropped to their seats like their hamstrings had been cut. Harry was a bit slower. He was going to have to practice the whole standing and sitting at attention thing.

“What was at first nothing more than an idea, a desire to find a more rational alternative to protect ourselves from the darker realms that exist in our world, has grown into what I hope will eventually become the new de-facto standard in organized enforcement training…A specialized tactical unit.”

“As many of you know much of this program was adapted from my time in the Muggle world providing security for the Muggle Prime Minister and his staff. During that time I was witness to and studied quite a few practical and useful tactical methods of law enforcement.”

“As a result, I have brought those ideas here and fortunately the Ministry or at least this new administration under Minister Weasley has come on board realizing we need a better way, a better, more skillfully trained force educated in the elements necessary to detect, meet and defeat any threat to our safety, prosperity and peace.”

“You are the first to have been chosen to become that force. This program's success depends upon your willingness to go the distance and meet these challenges head on but your mere presence here tells all of us you are ready, willing and quite capable of that. I appreciate your involvement, dedication not only to these unique ideas but to your unselfish desire to serve and protect your fellow witches and wizards, the faceless, nameless people who go about their daily lives oblivious to the dangers you my face on a regular basis.”

“No-one has greater respect for you than I. Irregardless of the out come of your time here, successful or not is immaterial to me. The fact that each and every one of you was willing to make that sacrifice is enough to garner not only my respect but the respect of all who know why you are here.”

“I've had the privilege and pleasure of speaking to many of your families and I can tell you without reservation…they are equally as proud of you, as they should be! I will be following your progress closely and have every confidence in you. Thank you ladies and gentlemen.”

“Now, in the interest of time, I will turn you back over to Director Boreguard. We will speak again soon.”

“Thank you Commander,” the Director said stepping back up to the podium, “we appreciate you taking the time to join us here tonight. If you will all remain seated for just a moment more the Instructors will be passing out two very important pieces of equipment that will be essential in your capacity as E-Specs in the future.”

“First will be what to most of you will appear to be nothing more than a simple two-way mirror but I assure you these devices are so very much more. First and foremost they are your primary communications device that will link you not only to each member of your team but to a constant source of tracking your whereabouts as well which I will explain further in a moment.”

The Instructor named Fong handed Harry a small flat object about four inches square. It was covered in what appeared to be dark brown leather. It resembled a Muggle man's billfold. When opened, on one inside cover was an identification card showing Harry James Potter as Department of Magical Law Enforcement E-Spec Agent #20 - Infiltration Spec. His picture was on the card and in a pocket next to the card a rather official-looking miniature department badge that bore the Ministry seal. It gleamed in the light of the room.

Over the top of the I.D card were red block letters printed diagonally across his info and picture that read TRAINEE.

“Does everyone have a mirror with the correct identification card inside?”

Everyone looked at their respective mirrors and nodded. A recruit up front raised her hand.

“Yes Ms. Marcus?”

“I have the correct mirror Director but mine has the word trainee printed across my I.D.”

“That is correct Ms. Marcus. At present you are all considered trainees in this program, however, once you graduate the red trainee security strip will be removed and your identification will then be accepted by the Ministry as official. It's just a security measure.”

“Oh,” the woman said, “Clever! Will it still work like it's supposed to?”

“Yes Ms. Marcus. The mirror and all its functions will work for you correctly during training however before they can function at all these devices must be activated before they can be utilized. In this case all you must do to activate your mirror is to place the thumb of either hand, it doesn't matter which, on the upper left-hand corner of the reflective surface like so…”

Director Boreguard held up a larger demonstrator mirror and pressed his thumb to the glass. The rest of the group followed his example.

When Harry pressed the thumb of his right hand to the glass the mirror seemed to vibrate for a second then the glass momentarily fogged but then cleared immediately after.

The Director asked if those two things occurred so Harry knew that he had done his correctly.

“Now,” the Director continued, “If you'll notice you will see a faint impression of your thumb print on the reflective surface where you touched it.”

Harry looked and sure enough it was there, a perfect representation of his thumbprint on the glass surface.

“Try wiping the print from the glass,” the director urged.

When Harry tried to clean the surface the print remained just as it was when he had left it.

“The print has been etched into the surface of the mirror for a reason ladies and gentlemen. These devices will not work for anyone but the one who activated the device. In this case that's you. To shut the device down simply utter the command Endo.”

Harry said, “endo,” and the mirror went blank. No reflective surface could be seen. The glass itself still reflected his image but it was not like a mirror it was just a piece of glass.

“We wanted the command to be a rather unique word that would not normally be said in general conversation. We certainly don't want you inadvertently deactivating your communications devices during times of trouble now, would we? To reactivate your devices say the command Activo.”

Harry reactivated his device and the reflective surface reappeared.

“Now everyone pass your device to the person on your left. Those on the left side pass your device to the person behind. Instructor Hassim would you assist Mr. Judson please.”

Since Judson was in the last seat in the row on the left he would have no-one to pass his mirror to. Instructor Hassim took Judson's mirror and held it. While the person sitting in the last seat on the right in the first row was handed Instructor Tottingsworth's mirror

“Now try deactivating the mirror in your hand.”

Harry said “endo” but nothing happened.

“This is to illustrate that your device will not work in the hands of anyone else, now please pass the device back to the right and forward. There are other important features to your mirrors that you will learn during your training but in the interest of time we must press on.”

Instructor McTavish cleared his throat loudly and the Director stopped, looking at the instructor with eyebrows raised.

“Perhaps you should show them the feature that keeps their mirrors with them…”

“Ah yes,” Director Boreguard said. He looked around a bit until his eyes landed on a sandy-haired lad in the front row.

“Mr. Harcourt would you be good enough to assist me?”

“Of course, sir!” The man jumped to attention.

“Please take your communications device and place it on the end of this podium.”

Harcourt did as he was instructed placing his mirror on the corner of the low platform.

“Now, if you would be so kind, begin walking toward the back of the room away from your device if you please.”

Harcourt did. When he got about halfway toward the back of the room a bright flash of blue light came from the corner of the podium where he set his mirror down, a blink later another blue flash appeared at the left rear pocket of his trousers.

When he reached in his pocket he pulled out his communications mirror. It was no longer on the podium where he left it. Everyone gasped.

The Director and most of the instructors chuckled.

“These devices have been spelled to remain with you at all times. We thought it prudent so they are not misplaced or left behind by accident.”

There was a murmuring among the recruits. Harry was astonished.

“The next object you will receive is a clever little device that will be used to call you to your respective Units when you have graduated and are assigned a specific Unit number. In this case it will be Units 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5. Since we don't know yet what your Unit number will be these devices will not activate.”

“However, when they do finally work they will become very warm and vibrate slightly for a moment when you are required to contact your team or Central Command for further instructions. Again, once these devices are activated, which you will be told how at a later time, they will not work for anyone else. The chain included with the medallion is unbreakable so getting it snagged on something while taking off on a broom or jumping from a building or something of that nature would not be a good idea.”

Director Boreguard dragged his thumb across his neck making a scratchy noise out of the corner of his mouth in the universal illustration of getting ones throat cut.

Instructor Fong handed Harry what looked like nothing more than a silver Sickle with a small hole drilled in it and a rather delicate and stylish silver chain attached. On the surface of the coin was the usual image found on a Sickle but etched in fine script around the outer edge Harry could see the words, `Property of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.' On the obverse the words read, `Illegal use or possession by unauthorized persons punishable by law.'

Harry couldn't help but instantly think of Hermione's coins she had made for the D.A. club. This had to be her invention. The thought of it made him grin and chuckle. To think that Hermione's brilliant idea was being used in an official capacity was thrilling and amazing and it made him love and respect the little know-it-all that much more.

“I thought you might recognize that,” a deep voice said from the end of the row he was sitting.

He looked up and saw a smiling Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there. All the recruits nearby stood instantly to attention. Harry decided to do the same only wasn't quite as fast.

“At ease everyone. Please be seated.” Kingsley said kindly.

“Did you get this idea from...” Harry started to ask but Kingsley interrupted.

“Yes, indeed Mr. Potter but I don't think there is a need to divulge specifics if you understand what I'm saying.”

“Of course,” Harry wanted to kick himself for being so careless, “I guess I've still got a lot to learn sir.”

“Well,” Kingsley said kindly again, “being the youngest recruit and not having the benefit of previous Auror training like most of the rest of the group puts you a bit behind from the start but I am confident you will do quite well here Mr. Potter. If I didn't have that confidence in you, you wouldn't be here.”

“Yes sir,” was all Harry could say. He couldn't help but blush as those around him regarded him with unveiled interest, sort of like an odd looking animal in a zoo.

“Good luck to you Mr. Potter and to the rest of you as well. I look forward to seeing you all progress through the program.”

There was a smattering of appreciation from those around him. Harry thought as soon as Kingsley had made his way on down the group the questions would start but much to his surprise most everyone turned their attention back to the Director…all except Patterson.

She regarded Harry for a long moment with an unreadable expression until Harry got irritated himself and met her gaze with his own. She looked away then. He, too, turned his attention back to the front.

“Since these devices will not be needed for the first segment of your training please keep them safely tucked away in your lockers. While both the mirror and the coin are virtually indestructible we don't want them being inadvertently misplaced.”

“One final item and then you may all proceed to the Dining Hall for an evening meal. If you will consult your communications mirror you will see on your individual identification cards a number under your name. That number will be associated with your cot and locker assignments. Each dormitory, which are the round top buildings across and to the left of the Dining Hall are numbered one through four and can accommodate up to 30 recruits in each comfortably but since we have only a fraction of the number of recruits we expect in the future the cot assignments will be as follows;”

“Recruits one through thirteen will be in Dormitory One, numbers fourteen through twenty five in Dormitory Two. The exception here will be the ladies. Ladies you will be in Dormitory Three.”

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen for your patience. You may now proceed to the Dining Hall. We have secured the services of some of the local ladies to prepare meals for us and I must say you will not be disappointed.”

“Recruits dismissed,” Instructor McTavish said loudly and everyone stood almost as a group then began filing out of the Main Hall.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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33. 33 - Not Again!

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Three

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Thirty Two - Not again!

One evening Hermione found herself on late afternoon rounds. Before she had realized where she was Headmistress McGonagall had requested her audience as the older woman made her way up from having a chat with Professor Hagrid.

“Ms. Granger may I have a word with you for a moment in my office,” the Headmistress requested matter-of-factly, “I realize you are on duty as Head Girl. I promise this shall only take a moment.”

“Of course Headmistress,” Hermione replied a bit perplexed. To Hermione the headmistress appeared to be a bit nervous - there was just no other word to describe her mentor's demeanor.

When they entered into the Headmistresses office each took their usual places. Hermione noticed several of the past Headmaster's portraits were empty, including Professor Dumbledore. She just shrugged it off as what was probably a normal occurrence.

The Headmistress appeared rather glum for a moment staring blankly at the top of her desk.

That struck Hermione as very odd indeed. She had never seen McGonagall so deeply concerned or distracted before and it was more than a little disconcerting. Hermione found herself getting a bit nervous and more than a little intrigued.

Finally McGonagall looked up with her usual prim expression, reached into a draw hidden from Hermione's view below the surface of the desk. When the Headmistress withdrew her hand, in it was a folded piece of parchment with a red wax seal holding it closed. She placed it gently on the desktop between them as if the piece of paper was fragile as glass.

“I can almost here the myriad questions forming in your utterly brilliant mind Ms. Granger but I must interpose that your speculations would be wasted on the contents of the document in front of me.”

“However, I must request that you reserve judgment of and…reaction to its contents until you've had proper time to absorb the possible meanings and consequences of what this parchment contains. Do I have your word on that Ms. Granger?”

Now Hermione was absolutely overcome with unabashed curiosity. She nodded absentmindedly. If she didn't see what was written on that parchment in the next few seconds she was going to explode. She could feel the pressure in her head building to a dangerous level.

McGonagall's eyes looked a bit distant for just a brief moment then she returned a rather stern gaze back on her young protégé.

“Perhaps it would be best for you to read it first,” the headmistress slowly slid the folded note across the desk until it sat in front of Hermione, “Then I will divulge how I came to possess such a thing.”

That comment made the elder woman's face crumple as if she had just taken a mouthful of bubbotuber puss.

“I will also tell you Ms. Granger,” the old Transfiguration Professor sighed, “to entertain the prospect of such a thing once again will not be easy to accept but please remember what I requested of you a moment before if you please.”

McGonagall held out a hand as if to urge Hermione to open the note. She didn't require any further urging. Hermione picked up the note and gently broke the seal. When she unfolded the parchment she saw several lines of writing in what she instantly recognized as the headmistresses hand. She began to read them…

As she read, then re-read the five lines of text on the paper in front of her the slow dawning of realization started permeating her mind. The meaning of what she was seeing suddenly ran over her brain like a stampeding herd of Hippogriffs.

“Oh…my…word…” Hermione whispered as she gaped at the Headmistress with wide eyes, “Is this what I think it is?”

The Headmistress took a deep breath and began to explain without the benefit of preamble.

“A few weeks prior to the start of the school term our illustrious and often soused Divinations Professor found herself in her usual spot at the Three Broomsticks. It just so happens Professor Hagrid was there on that evening as well.”

“He and Madam Rosmerta heard Professor Trelawney utter these phrases as she sat in near proximity at the bar. They swiftly recorded the phrases to make certain they had heard them correctly due to the fact that after uttering this…this…” the Headmistress couldn't seem to find the correct description so she simply forged ahead, “Apparently she had no recollection of saying any such thing at all.”

“Rubeus brought this straight away to me here in my office and after a rather extensive discussion that included most all the Past Headmasters we found ourselves forced to accept the fact that another prophecy has been set upon us once again like a plague of locust.”

McGonagall suddenly looked much older and more worn than at any time during the last confrontation with Voldemort.

Hermione sat completely stunned into utter silence as she let the words and possible meanings of the sentences before her absorb in her mind like a sponge soaking up spilt liquid.

At first she was having a very difficult time accepting what her eyes, ears and common sense told her was real and as the ramifications began to work themselves out in her mind her shock and surprise slowly began to morph into an altogether different emotional response. She suddenly felt heat rising from the collar of her jumper and the edges of her vision seemed to take on a faint red hue and blur out of focus as well.

She forced herself to sit perfectly still and tried desperately to keep her facial features completely neutral. She wasn't sure she was pulling it off but she was absolutely certain of something else. She glanced back up at the headmistress who was eyeing her intently.

“May I be excused Headmistress,” Hermione asked as politely as her quickly boiling temper would allow, “and would it be alright if I took this with me?”

“Certainly Ms. Granger,” McGonagall replied cautiously. She could see the younger woman's face slowly turning a rather unflattering shade of puce, “I was hoping you would. I realize your schedule is quite full however if you find a free moment perhaps you could put your outstanding deductive reasoning to this conundrum. All I ask is that you share with me anything you may discover that might be useful in determining just exactly what we are to expect in the days to come. Is that acceptable Ms. Granger?”

Hermione only nodded as she got up from the chair and turned to make her way out of the Headmistresses office. She did not trust herself to speak at the moment or she just might scream loud enough to shatter most all the delicate glass objects that surrounded them.

Hermione stormed back into the Head common room in such a towering fury she was now seeing red spots before her eyes. Her mood had turned from unabashed shock to her present state in the walk from the Headmistress's office to her common room.

She couldn't believe it was happening again! She refused to accept the ridiculous old fraud had spluttered out another diatribe of nonsense that had everyone on edge.

But there it was…written on the parchment the Headmistress had given her only moments before.

As she irritably dumped herself into one of the overstuffed chairs sat in the center of the room surrounding a low tea table she tossed the scroll onto the table as if it was cursed. It was terribly crumpled. Hermione was a bit surprised to realize she had been tightly clenching her fists.

Neville was there working on his lessons and Luna appeared to be no where in site. It was just as well; while she loved and cared for Luna very much, Hermione was in no mood for silliness and barmy pronouncements this evening. Besides, the flaky Ravenclaw had the unnerving ability to know or either makes very accurate assumptions about what was bothering someone without being told.

Neville only glanced up at her from his homework and recognizing her mood at once wisely chose to burry his nose back into his assignments without further inquiry or comment.

He had spent enough time and had come to know his fellow Head Girl well enough to recognize when she wanted to be left to her own thoughts.

Hermione was seething. She didn't want to accept the fact history seemed to be repeating itself…again!

Sitting there stewing in the simmering juices of her intense anger she suddenly realized Neville was struggling to keep his quills, inkwell, books, parchments, candles and whatever other odds and ends on the table from flying off in as many different directions as things began to float away.

“Err, Hermione?” Neville mumbled, “I don't mean to complain but…”

As soon as she realized what was happening everything hovering in the air above the table crashed back down. Neville was splattered with ink when his inkwell crashed back to the table top. The candles toppled over spilling hot wax on his parchment.

With an abrupt apology she quickly helped him scourgify everything shocked at her complete loss of control. It wasn't the first time her magic had gone haywire like that…

She had lost control at St. Mungo's the night she found out her parent's memories had been damaged. She almost electrocuted an Auror that night. Her magic also went wonky when she made love to Harry. She still couldn't figure out how or why it happened. She had attributed the former to her fatigue and stress but was still baffled about the whole love-making thing.

She tried desperately to shove those thoughts aside. She had other things to think about at present.

She growled inside her own head as she remembered the words of those stupid sentences.

She understood all too well evil existed in many shapes and forms in the world but she was also instantly aware of who those particular phrases were referring to. It was obvious and didn't take a genius intellect or clever deductive reasoning to know that much.

What concerned Hermione more than anything was her mind's desire to completely dismiss the whole Prophecy thing as tripe once again. It was as if her brain refused to wrap itself around the possible meaning of the prophecy without the slightest desire to delve into the issue.

Irregardless of her opinion on the authenticity of the words Trelawney had uttered that evening at the Three Broomsticks she had always attacked a problem head on and most times with relish to come up with the correct answers but this time things were different.

She was almost convinced it was nothing more than her aversion to all things Divination but it seemed to be more serious then that. It was almost as if her mind wanted to just…block it all out and move forward without looking back on past events.

In the months that followed the final conflict she had been lulled into a sense of peace and serenity and was loathed to give it all up once again for the fate of the Wizarding world.

She leaned forward and snatched the parchment off the table and unrolled it, smoothing out the wrinkles left by her subconscious death grip. She sat back with a deeply exasperated sigh.

Just looking at the words written in McGonagall's perfectly neat and professional penmanship her mind seemed to loose focus and wander. That was not like her at all.

Evil stirs once more in darkness

Born unto the house of the serpent

Ancient's magic within youth disguised

Will unchain the dead from restless slumber

To awaken upon the Savior's demise

As she sat there starring at the parchment trying to force herself to concentrate on the words a single name began to materialize in the depths of her subconscious mind as if forming out of the mists of confusion and doubt. In mere seconds it was there…

Voldemort…

As the name formed it became surrounded by bright green mist that also formed into an unmistakable figure…

The Dark Mark…

NO!

She threw the parchment from her as she lurched to her feet. Glancing down at Neville she realized he was starring at her with wide-eyed concern. She had not realized she had screamed out loud.

She turned without a word and bending to pick up the discarded parchment made her way quickly to her bedroom. When she closed the door she leaned against it, arms wrapped tightly around her middle and with chin falling to her chest she broke down letting the tears come without care or concern. Her body shook with desperate gasping sobs. She couldn't help it.

Why can't they just leave us alone!

Her room was utterly dark. She thought for a brief moment the darkness might be able to hide her this time but she knew better.

Evil exists and thrives in the dark places of the world - of our lives - in our minds.

“Oh H…Harry,” she whispered. She felt something inside her begin to crumble, tumbling down upon itself like portions of the ancient stone walls of Hogwarts during the final battle.

Slowly the world around her began to shift and change. She was no longer in the darkness of her room. She was standing on the edge of a bottomless void. Howling winds whipped about her, causing her hair to billow about her face, blinding her, pushing her ever closer to the edge.

She knew what lay below in the dark place beneath her. It was full of pain, emptiness, fear and despair. She knew, as if it were written across her soul, if she allowed herself to fall…this time she may never find her way out.

A voice filled her mind again just as it had in her parent's dental office that night. It was a voice she knew well.

“Get a grip Hermione!” The voice demanded, “Since when have you put any faith in anything Professor Trelawney said? We've been through all this before. Whatever this is, we'll go through it again. We'll face it Hermione…we'll face it together and we'll win. We'll win because you don't know how to lose!”

There was laughter then, his laughter, joyous and care-free, echoing in her mind like the sweetest music.

He was right…Hermione Granger didn't know how to lose. Hermione Granger didn't know how to give up. It simply wasn't in her nature.

Suddenly, she was in his arms. They were dancing under the twinkling lights of the thatched hut in Tahiti, the rhythmic music moving them around and around in circles. She had felt so alive in that very moment, more alive than she had ever felt in her entire life.

And happy!

Her inner vision cleared. The scenes in her minds eye vanished. She straightened up releasing her midsection and stood, head held high, defiant in the darkness of her room.

She reached inside her robe and pulled her wand. With a flick of her wrist light burst fourth as candles and oil lamps sprung to life around her chamber.

No more debilitating weakness, self doubt or pity Granger - It's time to get to work!

With a renewed sense of determination she sat down at her desk and unrolled the words of the Prophecy once again but as she poured over them she still could not seem to find the answers she knew were there. There was something she was missing, some clue that still eluded her.

Over the next few days she pondered the dilemma of the Prophecy until it became too distracting. In her reasoning whatever was going to happen would happen eventually but at the same time she was not filled with a sense of urgency to decipher the message much like last time.

It was an odd situation, like a puzzle whose solution would have little effect on the outcome of whatever its message was trying to convey.

In one way, to her organized mind and otherwise keen sense of perception it was pointless, like trying to find the beginning or the end of a perfect circle. The message seemed as useless as the last Prophecy the dizzy old bat had spit out. In another way, however, it differed greatly. Where the previous message was vague and convoluted, this one seemed specific, direct and to-the-point. That had to count for something, she just wasn't sure what or if it was even that important.

The one thing she knew for certain was that Harry was once again the target of some evil event that, to her utter dismay, seemed to involve Voldemort - or at least, someone acting on his behalf.

She wondered if she should try to contact Harry and tell him. She realized he was presently ensconced in a secret location known only to a select few surrounded by Aurors, Hit Wizards, unbreakable Ministry-level wards and spells and anyone foolish enough to try to get to him at the moment would regret their decision.

For the first time Hermione found herself thankful he had decided to take Kingsley up on his offer.

---@>---

Several days later, as she made her way into her Defense Against the Dark Arts class she realized at once something was different. Everyone was up, standing about the room in hushed but casual conversation.

Looking toward the front of the class she noticed a very familiar figure standing with Professor Dervish.

Speak of the Devil…

When everyone was present Professor Dervish bounded to his lecture podium with his usual exuberant enthusiasm.

“Good morning class,” The Professor said brightly. Everyone turned their attention but didn't settle into their seats as usual, “As many of you know we have a very special project for you today. I am most pleased to introduce a gentleman who has graciously agreed to assist us in the practical application of what we have discussed in our previous lesson…”

Hermione recalled they had been lectured at length about the uses and practical applications of deductive reasoning in the determination and identification of dark magic, wards and spells. They had also discussed the importance in collecting evidence to support theories and the ability to identify what was important from the innocuous.

Although it wasn't stated outright, Hermione had deduced this lesson had something to do with the new and improved Department of Magical Law Enforcement's move to a more scientific bent. She had read about some of it in the Daily Prophet and as if to confirm her deduction, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Head of the D.M.L.E. stood at the front of the class ready to assist Professor Dervish in an exercise to illustrate those very points.

Well, Hermione thought, at least today's class shouldn't be boring!

She also thought she might have a chance to talk to Kingsley about Harry to find out how he was doing, if he would divulge such information. Of course, seeing how secretive they all were about their program she didn't reserve much hope for any disclosure.

She listened as Professor Dervish explained the details of the practical experiment they were about to undertake.

“I would like you all to welcome Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt. He is the director and head of the revamped Department of Magical Law Enforcement and has graciously agreed to take some time from his most demanding schedule to help conduct this lesson.” Professor Dervish turned to the guest and gestured toward the podium, “Mr. Shacklebolt.”

Kingsley moved to the podium and scanned the eager faces of the class.

“Thank you Professor. As some of you may now know the Ministry has taken a new and more rational approach to dealing with dark magic and those who practice all types of subversive activities. As a result I have been graciously granted the authority by the Wizengamot to apply some very useful techniques I learned while in the employ of the Muggle Prime Minister during the darkest days of Lord Voldemort's attempted rise to power.”

“Seeing as this is a Seventh Year course I also realize many of you were involved in that conflict so you know first hand how the Dark Lord and his minions were able to infiltrate and seize many of our most important establishment with little effort. Some of what we are now doing is aimed at preventing such catastrophes from happening in the future and having said that…it is quite obvious to me that you are the future of our world.”

“Today I hope to demonstrate, through hands-on experience, the importance of not only knowing practical defensive skills but also how to use reasoning and information, deducing clues to solve crimes and using that information to bring wrong-doers to justice.”

“This test is to enable you to recognize and interpret those clues. The details are simple. We have cordoned off a section of the grounds near Professor Hagrid's hut into approximately five by five foot sections.”

“Each of you will be issued one of these sections and tasked with finding an important clue left by an imaginary miscreant who has perpetrated a robbery on an unsuspecting Muggle family. I will tell you that the clue, which is singular in nature, is obvious.”

“That's the only information about the clue I will divulge. You are to find, record and report the correct clue, without divulging it to others who are still looking for it if you please, to Professor Dervish. Once the nature of the clue is established we will then examine the clue for additional evidence that may reveal the who, what, where, how and why's of our mystery crime. Those are the prime keys to solving any mystery…Asking the right questions.”

Kingsley then turned to the professor who seemed ready to burst with excitement.

“For those who find the correct clue will receive 25 points for their respective houses and the first one to find it will be awarded 25 additional house points! Now…are we ready?”

Ron leaned toward her and whispered, “It's something buried in the ground,” then winked at her with a smug grin.

“Figure that out all by yourself, did you,” she chuckled smirking, patting him on the shoulder. He glared back at her.

Everyone mumbled assent and they followed Kingsley and Professor Dervish down to the front entrance and out onto the grounds. As they made their way passed Hagrid's hut he gave them a thumb's up as they moved by his 3rd year Care of Magical Creatures class.

“I thin' you'll find all is as ye' requested Mr. Shacklebolt sir.”

“Thank you for your assistance Hagrid,” Kingsley replied with a smile.

When Hagrid's eyes fell on Hermione and Ron he beamed and waved. They waved back.

Hermione made a mental note to go visit him as soon as she could. She thought she might convince Ron to go with her but as she glanced at him she could see he was too busy studying Eloise Midgeon's bum.

How could a bloke be so completely single-minded? I love sex…well sex with Harry, any way but Merlin's beard!

---@>---

Ronald Weasley had become, since the term had been in session, a complete lecherous cad. Hermione was continually getting complaints from girls of every house about the constant groping, grabbing, touching, squeezing and fondling.

It seemed he was taking full advantage of Ministry Decree #759 and using the knowledge that he could not be expelled to do as he damned well pleased.

A few nights after receiving the Prophecy from McGonagall Hermione had finally got one complaint too many and had reached the limit of even her patience so she decided to take preemptive action Head Girl Bitch from Hell style.

She caught him coming out of the Gryffindor dormitory with Dean and Seamus and proceeded to give Ronald Bilius Weasley the Bossy know-it-all witch's version of a very impressive and quite effective Atomic Wedgy. With a flick of her wand his underpants were stretched so tight they were pulled all the way up over the back of his head with the toes of his trainers just barely scraping the flagstone floor.

Seamus and Dean blanched sheet white and looked like they were going to spew (and she wasn't thinking S.P.E.W. either) watching the horror unfold before their very eyes.

“IF I GET ONE MORE BLOODY REPORT FROM A GIRL IN THIS SCHOOL ABOUT RONALD WEASLEY I SWEAR I'M GOING TO TRANSFIGURE YOUR ICKLE RONNYKINS INTO TO A BLOODY SNARGLEUFF POD…GOT IT? ARE YOU BLOODY HEARING ME?”

She had said it all through tightly clenched teeth.

Eyes running with tears of pain he nodded wildly and squeaked, (in a voice that strangely resembled a House Elf huffing helium)

“Got it!”

She released him then, underwear snapping back into place with a sickening sound as he collapsed gasping for breath lying curled into the fetal position on the floor clutching his groin.

As she stormed away she heard Seamus say, “That has to be the most frightening thing I've ever witnessed! I think I'm scarred for life!”

“Yaaahh,” Dean replied gulping hard, his right eye was twitching.

Needless to say - she had no more complaints about his rude behavior.

---@>---

When they reached the area with the cordoned-off sections each student took their assigned places. Professor Dervish got their attention by clapping his hands.

“Now class,” he said, “You may use whatever means you think necessary to find the clue as long as it's within reasonable and legal limits. You may also use any other form of magic or device you may think of in your endeavor. You have till the end of class to complete your assignment so take your time and consider…well…everything! Is everyone ready?”

Nods all around.

“Excellent!” He practically shouted, “You may begin!”

While most all the students immediately turned their attention to the ground under their feet Hermione took a moment to consider her little plot. Her first observation was that none of the earth in any of the plots looked disturbed. A fine layer of grass covered the entire grounds.

When she glanced over at Ron he had retrieved a shovel from somewhere, most likely Hagrid's hut, and was digging like a Niffler. Others were a bit more subtle in their approach. They were using all manner of summoning charms and revealing spells.

As Hermione watched them she quickly became convinced the clue they were looking for wasn't buried in the plots. In fact, it wasn't in the plots at all. She had no idea how she knew that. It was just a gut feeling but she was almost certain.

She stood gazing around at the surrounding area. From where they were a part of the Forbidden Forest could be seen just beyond Hagrid's hut. When she focused on a rather large clump of bramble growing wild between two large trees she spotted what looked distinctly like the shiny chrome bumper of a very shiny and very modern-looking automobile.

She remembered Ron telling her a long time ago that his father's old Ford Anglia was still out there somewhere in the forest but this was not that car.

She grinned. The clue fit. It had been a Muggle family that had been burgled. The robber stole the family car to facilitate his escape or to simply take a joy ride and abandoned it in the woods! That had to be it.

She wrote down her response on her parchment careful not to look back at the car lest she give it away. She even recorded the partial license plate number. When she was finished she stepped out of her plot and headed for Professor Dervish and Kingsley Shacklebolt watching the class with barely veiled amusement.

When she handed her paper to the Professor he read it and a huge grin broke out across his face. He gave her a reverent bow.

“We have our first correct response ladies and gentlemen!” He said proudly, “Fifty points for Gryffindor! Well done Ms. Granger!”

“Ooh Granger finishes first! There's a shock!” Someone said but now all the students were peering at her vacant plot noticing she had not turned over a single bit of soil or cast the first spell. It wasn't long until they started catching on, some quicker than others. Ron's hole was now almost two feet deep.

In times past that comment might have hurt Hermione's feelings but no longer. They all had been given the same clues she had so…bugger them all! Let Weasley dig until he pokes the Devil himself in the bum. She'd just won 50 points for her house!

“Well done Ms. Granger,” Kingsley said in his deep voice, “I can't say I'm all that surprised.” He chuckled quietly, “You know, you'd make an exceptional Auror if you were so inclined young lady.”

Hermione held up her hand.

“While I thank you for the compliment Mr. Shacklebolt, I have no desire to chase Death Eaters and Dark wizards around for the rest of my days unlike others I know.”

Kingsley nodded thoughtfully.

“Speaking of our resident Auror-in-training, would it be a breach of security to ask how he's doing?”

Kingsley gave her a knowing grin.

“I think you already know the answer to that question Ms. Granger but to assuage your curiosity, Harry is doing fine. It's still too early in the program yet to determine if he'll see it through to the end but…only time will tell. What I can tell you is this program is going to be tougher than anything he's ever faced and if I had any reservations about Harry's ability to succeed I would not have recruited him.”

“Harry's actually the youngest recruit in the program. Most of the others were selected from the Auror and Hit Wizard rosters and are mostly in their mid-twenties. Even though they have all had the advantage of prior training Harry is holding his own quite well. I must confess I was a bit worried about that at first but that doesn't seem to be a problem.”

“Personally, I think before all is said and done Harry's going to become one of the most formidable and accomplished wizards of his time and I mean that sincerely Ms. Granger. In fact, I think he'll even be able to outshine Albus Dumbledore in many ways.”

That comment stunned Hermione but it also made her grin like a loon.

“Please promise me something Mr. Shacklebolt, will you?” She asked quietly.

“I shall certainly do my best young lady,” he said.

“Please take care of him,” she said, her eyes swimming slightly, “I love him and if anything were to happen to him…” she could not continue. Her throat seized up for a moment.

“I promise I will look after Harry but I assure you Ms. Granger, Harry Potter is more than capable of looking after himself.”

“I know sir but I have an ulterior motive for asking,” she added cryptically.

“And that would be?” Kingsley gave her a sideways look.

“Do you know about the new Prophecy Professor Trelawney came out with a few weeks before the term started?”

“I am,” was all he said about it but his face took on a rather dark set to his features.

“So you can see why I'm concerned.”

“Certainly,” he nodded, “How many others have you told about the new prophecy Ms. Granger?”

“No-one,” she replied, “Not that the Headmistress expressly told me to keep it a secret, I just feel compelled to keep it to myself for now. I just received it earlier this week.”

“Ah, well,” Kingsley grinned again but this time it seemed a bit less bright, “I can assure you Harry is perfectly safe where he is right now.”

“I know Mr. Shacklebolt,” Hermione said, “I must admit I was not altogether thrilled with his decision to join your program but now…” She felt she didn't have to finish that statement.

Kingsley put a very fatherly hand on her shoulder and patted her gently. It was then two more students stepped out of their plots and made their way to Professor Dervish…One correct, one incorrect. The student who got it wrong returned to his plot glumly.

“I wish that none of this was necessary at all Ms. Granger but it seems, in our world those who choose to defy conventional wisdom don't just pass on like the rest of us. It seems evil, especially the kind like Voldemort's, leaves imprints or indelible marks on our consciousness. It's almost something akin to an incurable disease. It's not something that makes for a restful night's sleep.”

Kingsley couldn't help but recall his strange nightmare.

“Why can't they just leave him the bloody hell alone,” Hermione whispered more to herself than to Kingsley. She was absently watching as a few more students got the clue.

“That answer is easy Ms. Granger,” Kingsley smiled sadly, “It's what Harry represents…what he stands for. For those who think it important, doing away with Harry Potter would create such fear and paranoia it would almost be impossible for this world to recover from at this point.”

Hermione looked at the old Auror darkly.

“I don't believe that for one moment and neither do you. Harry is important and irreplaceable to this world, yes I'll give you that but so was Albus Dumbledore! It took an army of very determined witches and wizards to bring Voldemort down! Don't hang all of it on Harry's shoulders. It's not fare! I won't stand for it!”

Her features were set with a look of such stubborn determination he didn't feel he possessed the nerve to contradict her.

“Perhaps you're right Ms. Granger.” It was all he could say in response.

Feeling she had made her point they watched in silence as the rest of the class as they finally figured out the hidden clue. Ron was next to last.

With that part complete they moved to where the Muggle car was hidden and preceded to learn about how to properly collect evidence and clues to answer the necessary questions to how the car had gotten there and why.

Hermione found herself a bit more distracted by her conversation with Kingsley than she was willing to admit so she was quite satisfied to let the rest of the class complete the assignment. To her surprise it was Ron who found the car's registration with the victim's name and address and a few other minor clues to conclude their investigation but missed what Hermione considered one of the most important clues of all.

It was the discarded empty package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans on the floorboard under the passenger seat but she kept silent. She really wasn't all that interested in a make-believe crime - her mind was on their new trouble in the real world and what it all meant for them this time.

I'm getting too old for all this nonsense!

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34. 34 Errors in Judgment

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Chapter Thirty Four - Errors in Judgment

Hermione sat in Transfiguration class only half hearing Professor Star's lecture on the elemental procedures for changing liquids into solids and using them in a controlled way.

She found herself annoyingly distracted by so many different things coming at her from all sides.

There was her strange yet profound conversation with Draco. There were the stupid phrases of another ridiculous prophecy. There was her constant annoyance with one Ronald Weasley who had come to the realization that since he cannot be kicked out of school because of that ridiculous Decree.

There were her advanced classes. Her work load had increased two-fold since the beginning of the term not to mention she had volunteered to provide tutoring, help in class and help some of the Professors grade lessons from the younger students.

If that wasn't enough the lack of the wonderful physical release Harry provided her was no longer available and the pressure building up inside her was reaching dangerous levels.

If she couldn't let off some pent up frustration with a good toe-curling, mind-blowing Harry/Hermione wonder shag she was simply going to spontaneously combust and quite possibly burn down the entire school!

As she sat staring off into nothingness her eyes fell on a rather large painting on the wall directly behind the Transfiguration Professor's desk. That was something new. She had never seen it before and what was even stranger was that the youthful man sitting in the picture seemed oddly familiar somehow but she could not, for the life of her, think who it might be.

Perhaps it's a relative of Professor Star…her father in his youth?

The young man was rather handsome in a dark and brooding sort of way but he possessed an unmistakable air of arrogance, condescension and pride in his narrow features. He wore a formal black tuxedo complete with cravat and didn't look at all very happy to be sitting for a portrait. He sneered down at them all with barely veiled contempt.

The painting itself didn't look precisely old. It was definitely an original oil and done by a talented artist. The frame was a thick gilded carved wooden thing that appeared almost gaudy if it weren't for the chair the man sat on.

The chair, however, appeared to be antique and looked almost throne-like with its intricate gilded carved wool frame, lion's claw feet, straight upright back and red velvet covered cushions.

The background was of a wall in a room of some unknown location, perhaps a sitting room. There were several portraits on the wall behind the figure but the artist had not bothered to capture much detail in those.

The upper half of the wall was wide vertical stripes of varying shades of green. The lower half was white painted wainscoting and square picture-box trim below the heavy chair rail that separated the two distinctly different designs.

Under the youthful man's feet was the unmistakable rendition of an intricate and obviously expensive Persian rug.

As Hermione studied the painting for a moment she saw the figure's eyes land on her. A strange coldness washed over her as his piercing gaze pinned her with such an utter look of loathing it made the hair on the nape of her neck rise. She tore her eyes away from it. She didn't like the painting at all.

She suddenly realized all the students around her were gathering up their things and heading for the door. When Hermione looked down she realized she had not taken a single note on the lecture they were just given. Her parchment was completely blank.

She moaned putting her hand over her face as she dropped her quill to the table.

Professor Star appeared next to her looking down at Hermione with a quizzical smile. The woman's almost ethereal beauty was a bit intimidating.

“You seemed a bit distracted today Miss Granger,” Professor Star said in her usual casual way, “Something bothering you?”

Where do I start!

“I'm sorry Professor,” Hermione groaned laying her head down on the table on top of her folded arms, “I can't seem to focus on anything today. I'm useless! Too many things on my mind to sort through at present but that's hardly an excuse for skiving classwork.”

“Well, we all have days like that young lady,” Professor Star smiled in the way that made boys melt, “even the steadfast and effervescent Hermione Granger. Anything you want to talk about? I'm not sure I'll have the answer but I'm a fairly good listener.”

“I'm not sure anyone could understand,” Hermione said but then reconsidered.

Professor Star, while young in years seemed to possess a remarkable and keen insight to the practical aspects of not only the application of some very clever Transfiguration effects but also a very common sense approach to life through magic. It was one of the things Hermione respected about this Professor.

Professor Star constantly taught that knowledge was power and the correct application of competent and useful magical skills was important to every witch and wizard's success and for a woman who could probably simply get by on her looks alone, to Hermione that was rather remarkable.

Hermione sat up straight and looked at Professor Star seriously for a moment.

“Professor,” she asked, “How much do you know about what happened with Voldemort last year?”

Professor Star's expression didn't change all that much only that she looked off into the depths of the classroom for a moment as if lost in thought and then replied with a slight lilt of one of her slender and graceful shoulders.

“Very little actually,” she lied as she settled into a chair across from Hermione, “I was out of the country for most of last year and must say I missed all the…erm…excitement as it were. I was doing research on some useful Occlumency immersion techniques with a very knowledgeable instructor in the Ukraine.”

She had actually done that but it was in the late 16th century.

“What little I do know was gleaned from the usual sources like the Daily Prophet and the few books and publications floating around about the war…why do you ask?”

Hermione shifted slightly uncomfortable with the fact the Professor may have read Ron's book. She was beginning to think she was the only one who hasn't read the stupid thing.

“One of the things that led to the whole confrontation between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort was the existence of a prophetic statement made by a supposed Seer. It was because of those words Voldemort believed Harry would one day grow up and be powerful enough to stop him…”

Hermione went on to give Professor Star a quick overview of the last seven years of Voldemort's failed attempts at offing Harry to pave his way for complete domination and the evil wizard's ridiculous attempts at finding and possessing immortality.

To Zalina, listening to the completely accurate grasp this little slip of a Muggle had on Tom Riddle's ridiculously flawed plans was astounding.

No wonder why the idiot's dead! He couldn't even get by this silly little mudblood girl!

“So now,” Hermione said with an exasperated sigh, pulling out the piece of well-worn parchment the new prophecy was written on, “she's done it again! She's gone and regurgitated this mess!”

Zalina took the parchment from Hermione's outstretched hand and read the words keeping her expression completely even.

Inside, Zalina Sheryl Star was utterly stunned by this revelation but centuries of life and experience had taught her unflinching control of her faculties. She cleared her throat.

“Well, this certainly seems prophetic doesn't it?” She had to force herself to smile, “However,” she continued with eyebrows pinched together in affected concentration, “taken at face value one could apply these phrases and produce all sorts of conclusions. Take the first statement for example… `Evil stirs once more in darkness.' If you apply logic to that phrase by itself one could conceivably conclude it speaks about evil itself, not an individual's evil intentions. As far as evil stirring in darkness that isn't much of a stretch. Evil does its best work in the shadowy places of our lives does it not?”

She smiled a rather cynical smile at Hermione who responded with her own grin and nod.

“However,” Professor Star continued looking at the parchment with deep concentration on her face nibbling at her thumb, “If you take into consideration the next phrase I can see how the connection could be made to someone like Lord Voldemort seeing how it was speculated he was a direct descendant to Salazar Slytherin and it is well documented the Hogwarts Co-Founder often used the image of a snake in his personal identifications.”

“If you combine the first two phrases it's quite possible one could ascertain it is identifying the Dark Lord but it doesn't expressly identify him by name so one could also assume it could be attempting to identify…someone else altogether,” she nonchalantly shifted her shoulder again seemingly unconcerned.

“The third phrase, `Ancient's magic within youth disguised,' I must admit is rather intriguing. On one hand it is a very specific statement but on the other it's just as vague as the rest, if that convoluted explanation makes any sense at all.”

She smirked, Hermione chuckled,

“It could be telling us, for example, that a very old magical ability is hiding in someone very young or it could be telling us that someone very young is in hiding using ancient magical skills or someone very old is hiding as someone very young using an ancient magical skill,” Professor Star grinned, “We could go on and on I suppose. Know anyone who might fit any of those descriptions?”

Hermione thought hard for a moment. The clever and insightful ideas and information this rather youthful Professor was providing her were remarkable. Hermione was beginning to feel much better about her decision to put this before Professor Star. She felt good her initial assessment of the woman had been correct.

“Not off the top of my head,” Hermione replied but she couldn't help but be a bit surprised when Draco Malfoy's face popped into her mind. She knew it had already been established that Draco was not a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin. That was what that whole ridiculous Polly Juice potion thing had been all about when she had inadvertently turned herself into a human version of Millicent Bullstrode's cat. It was still embarrassing to think about.

Merlin, I was so full of myself then!

“Well then,” Professor Star sighed, “moving on to the next phrase… `Will unchain the dead from restless slumber'…Rather ominous statement that but I'm not really certain how to apply it to the rest of the message. Is it saying that all the dead in the world will be unchained or just a specific dead person? Rather terrible thought the entire world might be overrun with stinky dead corpses! Yuck!”

Hermione let out a screeching giggle and reached up to quickly cover her mouth.

“Sorry,” she said apologizing for her outburst, “It's just the way you said that…”

“Well,” Professor Star replied holding up a hand, “You must understand Miss Granger it's a bit difficult for me to take this all that seriously because of the convoluted nature of the entire vague prophetic statement itself. It's a bit self-contradictory in some ways. It simply depends on how you apply its message. It's a lot like magic in a round-about way.”

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared.

“Like magic,” She asked, “Forgive me but I'm not certain I understand that connection Professor.”

“Simple really,” Zalina replied, “We believe in magic even though we cannot see what makes the magic work yes? Oh, we can see the energy of a spell or curse leave our wands or the end product of a charm or incantation but whatever the force is that makes it all work is invisible to us…but we still believe in our ability to produce it. It's through knowledge, skill and practice we harness and perfect it, shape it into whatever we need it to be.

“Using that same logic you can shape these phrases to fit just about whatever circumstances you choose to believe and act upon them accordingly to produce the desired outcome, however, by not acting on them at all will it produce the same outcome? Who's to say. It's just like a spell. If one doesn't cast a particular spell correctly one usually doesn't get the results one expects unless it's just blind luck, yes?”

Hermione sat absorbing her declaration and she had to admit her comparison made sense.

“So, what you're saying is if I don't act on this prophecy it won't come true?” Hermione asked.

“Well,” Professor Star replied, “Either that or it will happen regardless of what you do. The last phrase seems to be the most damning. It basically states that whatever is supposed to happen will happen when the `Savior' is…dispatched, whoever that may be.”

“I'm almost certain I know who that refers to Professor,” Hermione said darkly.

“Oh?” Zalina inquired acting as if she had no clue.

“Harry Potter.”

“I see,” the Professor said. She placed a hand gently on Hermione's arm, “Then I suppose it's a good thing the dead can't be brought back to life isn't it? Voldemort is dead Miss Granger.”

It was Hermione's turn to look blankly off into the shadows of the Transfiguration classroom.

“There was a time when I would have believed that without hesitation Professor but the things I've been through over the years have taught me not to underestimate anything when it comes to Voldemort and what he may or may not be capable of.”

“The horrors Harry told me of Voldemort's last re-emergence was the stuff of nightmares. I thought it could never get worse than that. I quickly learned how wrong I was when we found out how he was able to do what he did. If most of his key supporters weren't dead I wouldn't be surprised if he left some sort of contingency plan to drag his mutilated soul back from the next great adventure.”

“Part of me says, `You're being paranoid Granger' but the rest of me…”

“The rest of you what Miss Granger,” the Professor asked.

Hermione sat back and sighed heavily. She suddenly felt very tired, the weight of it all settling on her like a Knight Bus sized block of granite.

“The rest of me wants to grab Harry and run,” she looked up into the beautiful face of the young professor and smiled sadly, “but Harry would never do that. He'll stay and face whatever's coming. He'll stand in its path until he prevails or gets run over but…” she paused looking suddenly determined, “That's where I come in. I'll be standing there right beside him making certain he won't get run over.”

“That's very loyal of you Miss Granger. Not many would make that kind of sacrifice for a friend.”

“Oh Professor,” Hermione chuckled, “I cast my lot in with Potter years ago. No reason to change now.”

“Indeed,” Professor Star said, “So what do you plan to do about this prophecy? Didn't you tell me Harry was sequestered within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in some top secret program or something?”

“Yes. He's quite safe for now. He sent me a letter telling me they are giving him a week off for the Holiday. He's going to come here for a day or two to visit then I'm going to try and convince him to spend some time with me at my parents. I'm not sure how it will all work out yet though.”

“As far as the prophecy…I have no idea. I didn't really act on the last one and things turned out fairly well. We lost too many but we managed to survive despite the odds.”

“I suppose I can see your point,” Professor Star said rising gracefully to her feet, “At least this time you have all the facts. Last time Voldemort had only part of the total message due to the incompetence of his minions I believe. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the major cause of the idiot's undoing.”

Hermione froze. That last comment caused her to pause thinking back over what she had told the Professor about the past encounters with the Dark Lord. She was certain she had not mentioned anything about Voldemort having only the partial prophecy the last time. She had mentioned the previous prophecy but only in the context that it had been different, less clear and not nearly as direct.

She wanted to think maybe the Professor heard it somewhere or perhaps the Headmistress told her and it was quite possible Ron had written about it in his book but she couldn't seem to squelch a sudden feeling of alarm that almost took her breath.

Professor Star excused herself and Hermione proceeded to pack her things and make her way to the Head dormitory. Since Transfiguration was her last class for the day she needed to stow her grip and find Neville. It was her turn for rounds.

---@>---

Once Hermione had left the Transfiguration classroom Zalina slumped back in her chair behind her desk a terrible huff. She couldn't believe the dizzy sherry sodden fraud had done it again!

Impossible! There is absolutely no way Sybill Trelawney is even one-tenth the Seer her grandmother was…UGH! I'll simply have to kill her! This is completely unacceptable!

Tom Riddle was sitting casually in his throne-like chair above her head with one leg draped over the other inspecting his fingernails. She had decided to move his painting to the classroom after she had caught him leering at her again while she was undressing one evening when she had his portrait hanging over the fireplace in her chamber as he had requested. She was getting a bit weary of his constant ogling and snide comments.

“I take it you heard?” She asked without looking up at the painting.

“Indeed,” Tom Riddle's image sighed still looking haughty and bored, “The little mudblood certainly had the gist of things didn't she?”

“And you wonder why you failed! Ugh…I simply cannot wrap my mind around how stupid and arrogant you were!”

“Don't get your thong in a pinch darling. You're going to correct those mistakes shortly aren't you?”

Zalina stopped and turned, glaring up at him dangerously for a moment.

“Thong!” She groused, “I wouldn't get caught dead in one of those ridiculously appalling torture devices! Whatever sadistic bastard invented those things needs to be disemboweled, drawn and quartered, beheaded and the pieces run through a wood chipper!”**

“Indeed!” Young Tom Riddle quipped, “It's usually to ones who look dreadful in the sexy garments who protest against them the loudest. I, for one, think you'd look smashing in a nice lacy black one but…oh well, you are a bit hippy for such a thing.”

Zalina's eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in shock as she stared at the painting for a moment. Even being as sexually liberated as she thought she was there was no way she was going to put up with that kind of nonsense from a smarmy oil painted little tosspot. Her eyes went to dangerously narrow slits and she spit a warning through gritted teeth.

“I'll thank you to leave my dainties out of all further discussions in the future you filthy despicable Cretan. We have much more important things to discuss…”

“What is it this time?” Riddle huffed as if he were terribly bored, “Let me guess,” he placed a raised finger next to his cheek rolling his eyes up in affected thoughtfulness, “Potter leaving the country? No…then perhaps he's been chosen as the next Minister for Magic?” He enjoyed goading her ire immensely.

“NO…you idiot,” Zalina hollered, “Do shut up! Gods I should just incinerate you and find another way to take over this ridiculous world,” she put her hand to her forehead, “You undoubtedly heard what the torrid little snot said about Potter, didn't you? He's going to be here for a few days during the sappy Muggle Christmas holiday and it just might be our only chance to snatch him and see if this plan will work.”

“Oh yes,” Riddle sneered, “because your plan has been utterly flawless so far!”

Zalina twitched. She forced herself to remain calm reminding herself her situation was only temporary. Once Voldemort was reanimated and the present regime falls (and she hoped it wouldn't take long) she would re-dispose of this moron after she was finished with him. It was simply tragic he had no clue.

“Then I suppose it's just as well I don't really care about what you think but as it is the situation may be even more complicated…”

Zalina reiterated about the new prophecy and her thought the mudblood would be watching closely because of it.

“Why don't you just do away with her,” Riddle spit, “She's nothing but a nuisance and she's potentially standing in my way of returning and ultimate immortality! Kill the little wench!”

“Typical,” Zalina huffed, “In your usual thoughtless stupidity you fail to see the big picture. I can't kill the mudblood yet. Too many would notice. You don't kill a Queen when she's sitting on her throne in the midst of her court.”

Riddle stood uneasily pacing back and forth across the canvas from frame to frame.

“Have you at least been able to create the incantations necessary to pull this off if you ever do get your hands on Potter?”

“Yes,” Zalina hissed as she turned on her heel and made her way into her chambers, “but for now I'm going to shower, change and go to dinner. I've had quite enough of you for this evening.”

---@>---

The strange feelings that struck her while talking with Professor Star lingered with Hermione the rest of that evening and she found herself lost in introspection as she made her rounds.

After bumping into the Headmistress in a hallway on her way to her office after dinner she discovered her mentor had not said anything to the Transfiguration Professor about either prophecy. When McGonagall inquired why she had asked such a question Hermione played it off that she was just following up on a hunch.

As she made her way through the castle she was glad things were relatively quiet. Several Hogwarts portraits pointed her to a young fifth year couple hiding behind a tapestry on the fourth floor and it wasn't very difficult to find them because the girl was making so much noise giggling she had even attracted Peeves attention.

“Must I even say it?” Hermione said with arms crossed tapping her foot on the stone floor.

The young couple fled for their lives.

As she made her way past the Fat Lady's portrait she decided to ask Ron if he had written anything about the original prophecy in his book. She realized it was two in the morning but she thought it a little retribution for all the trouble he was causing for her and the rest of the staff with his antics.

She made her way silently into the boy's dorm and slipped into Ron's chamber as noiselessly as a Hogwarts ghost. When she reached his bed she knew he would probably make enough noise to wake Dumbledore's corpse so she place a silencing charm around his four-poster.

Sitting on the edge she shook him hard enough to startle him awake. He came up spluttering, blinking wildly into the darkness of the room looking around wildly.

“Wha'…who…wuz no' me…didn't do…”

Hermione sat waiting patiently until he regained some semblance of coherency before she tried to talk to him. When he shook his head and gaped at her blinking she finally smirked at him.

“Surprise!” she whispered.

He jerked the covers up to his chin with wide eyes.

“Merlin's left bullock, what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I have some questions I need to ask you,” Hermione said grinning. She was enjoying Ron's discomfort.

“And this couldn't wait till morning because…” Ron grumbled. He yawned widely.

“Because I don't want anyone knowing I talked to you,” she replied.

“Well you best hope the rest of these blokes don't wake up. The gossip it will cause…”

She rolled her eyes.

“Like I care,” she snickered, “Listen, this is serious. I need to ask you about your book…”

“Why don't you just read it Hermione? What is your problem with my book?” Ron huffed crossing his arms, “You're like a bloody…psychotic book-o-phile or something - never met a book you didn't like but mine…” he threw his hands up.

“Call it a protest,” she replied seriously, “Start acting like a human and I may consider reading it.”

“Whatever,” he yawned again, “what do you want to know? You interrupted a very pleasant and very naughty dream about…”

“Finish that statement Weasley and I'll crack your ickle twins like walnuts!”

“How did you get so bloody frigid woman? I don't see how Harry can stand it.”

“I'm. Not. Frigid,” she said dangerously, “I simply have no desire to hear about your sordid fantasies about our Transfiguration Professor!”

Ron smirked, his eyes twinkling in the darkness.

“It's scary how well you know me. Ask already so I can go back to sleep. Some of us actually do that you know. I swear you must have a Vampire in your family tree somewhere!”

“Very amusing,” Hermione said flatly but then sighed and asked him basically the same questions she had asked the Headmistress. After he informed her he had not written much at all about the first prophecy she looked worried.

“What's so important about that old nonsense? I didn't think you put much stock in what the old bat said anyway.”

“I have my reasons and that's all I can say for now.”

It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes.

“Go away…please!” He grumbled falling back into his pillows and pulling the covers up to his ear.

Hermione chuckled patting him on the shoulder.

“Thanks.”

She turned to go but stopped when she heard him call out quietly.

“Hermione,” he asked in a pitiful voice.

“Yes Ronald,” she asked smirking at his prone form all tucked under his covers.

“Bwing me a dwink of wa wa…pweety pweeze,” he sighed.

“You'll just pee the bed,” Hermione chuckled, shaking her head as she made her way back out of the boy's dorm and on to finish her rounds even more troubled.

** - A.N. This little exchange was prompted by one of my readers who commented previously on her attitude toward the feminine garment known as the `thong.' While I personally don't really have an opinion one way or the other about the garment I must admit, from a horribly hedonistic male's point of view, I think they are sexy when utilized on the correct body type (I can't help but think of 300 pound woman trying to {shudders involuntarily} squeeze into spandex like so much pork sausage). Of course, that being said, I've never worn one so I don't really know how uncomfortable they are or not! Several lady-friends say they like to wear them and one says she wears them all the time…and trust me, she looks smashing in one, I must say! She tells me they make her feel sexy (not that she needs much help with that) and just a bit naughty so…I find myself quite reluctant to complain! Cheers!

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35. 35 - Remembering

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter Thirty Five - Remembering

Hermione sat watching the big fat fluffy snow flakes flutter down past the window across from her over-stuffed velvet chair she had strategically placed beside the large roaring stone fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

The sky outside the window was turning the deep bruise shade of purple as a thick white blanket covered the Forbidden Forrest and Scottish Highlands beyond. Once again Hagrid's little hut looked like a frosted gingerbread house amidst a winter dreamland.

Memories of past evenings spent in that very spot flitted like Cornish pixies across her mind's eye. She couldn't help but smile. Those memories seemed like they had happened in another lifetime.

She had to escape the Head common room or they would find one and quite possibly two dead bodies there in the morning if she had not left.

Her workload was such she could ill afford another wasted night unable to study but as she sat in what used to be her favorite chair in the spot she had loved in this room she found her mind wandering so much even that was becoming distracting. It was too late to go traipsing through the castle to the library even though she could if she so desired.

She thought of Harry for a moment as the swirling flakes seem to hypnotize her. In a few weeks they would be together again, if only for a short time. His letter telling her Kingsley was giving them a week's break at Christmas was almost too good to be true.

He was coming to visit with old friends and Professors and then they would go spend the balance of the holiday with her mother and father. To say she was excited was the most ridiculous understatement of the decade. The fantasy of spending the night alone with Harry in her Head dorm room sent thrilling tingles all over her much under-appreciated body.

As she sat there completely wrapped within the confines of that very steamy sexual fantasy she heard several students make their way into the common room through The Fat Lady's portrait.

Her naughty thoughts popped like an invisible bubble above her head.

A moment later a rather mussed and disheveled Ron dumped his sodden Quidditch gear on the floor beside the chair he dumped himself in across from hers stretching his long legs out in front of him with a groan and let his head loll back, eyes shut.

Hermione glanced up at him from her Charms paper. Since she had already completed most all of her Advanced Level courses in sixth year the Professors were forced to allow her to study at what were considered Continuing Education or University Level programs and for the first time in her life she had to admit she was being pushed to her academic limits.

Some of her classes, like Astrology, didn't even offer an Advanced Level program so she was forced to simply use her time in class to prepare for her N.E.W.T.s and provide tutoring for those students who were struggling. The bloke sitting across from her had managed to worm his way into most of the classes she tutored in so he got the benefit of her help after all.

She also had to admit he was doing much better then at the beginning of the term. He really was trying hard. At least he was turning in his homework on time even if it was quite lacking more times than not.

She also assisted many of the Professors with grading assignments. If the student body found out about that they would probably riot and have her burned at the stake.

“Tough practice tonight?” Hermione asked with a smirk.

He had complained incessantly about how pathetic the Gryffindor Quidditch team was this year. Being 18 now, Ron really wasn't even supposed to be on the team but since they could barely find enough who wanted to play the staff made concessions for all the teams. The poor Hufflepuffs were still one beater short.

Everyone seemed much more interested in the new and improved Dueling Club. It was now the most popular extra-curricular activity in Hogwarts. Even Ron had tried his hand but was quickly put out in the first round by a clever little fifth year Ravenclaw girl. He was still plenty sore about that.

“My sister's a bloody tyrant!” Ron moaned, “Now she has us doing…what did she call them? Callystentics…callowsentrics…I don't bloody remember!”

“I think they're called calisthenics,” Hermione chuckled, “So what's wrong with that? She wants you all physically fit and in good shape. Merlin you make it sound like you're being tortured or something.”

“I swear I think it is bloody torture,” Ron quipped, “I saw that old gas bag Filch watching us cackling like a mad man. He was probably taking notes!”

“Well I for one think it a brilliant idea,” she replied.

Ron lifted his head glaring at her.

“You would!” Ron said then raised one eyebrow, “Say, what are you doing here anyway? Come to slum with us lower life forms?”

“Don't be stupid Ronald,” Hermione growled, “It's Luna! I swear I can't get a moment's peace when she's around…and she's always around! It seems like she spends more time in our Head common room than anywhere else!”

“Talking your ear off, is she?”

“What…no,” Hermione sneered, “I wish. Neville made the horrible mistake of telling her she could sing like a canary! Ugh! Sounds more like Peeves beating the crap out of Mrs. Norris if you ask me. Now she flitters about the place shrieking like a bleeding banshee!”

Ron was laughing so hard he had tears running down his cheeks.

“Glad you're amused by my suffering,” Hermione grumbled, “Well don't be surprised if you hear about two Hogwarts student who go mysteriously missing over the next few days. Just promise me you'll let Harry know so he can break me out of Azkaban!”

“Look Hermione,” Ron said still laughing, “You don't have to be that flamboyant about it. Just secretly slip a silencing hex on her or something. That should settle things, at least for a bit anyway.”

She gave him a pointed glare.

“Since when did you become so devious Ron?”

“Me!” He said surprised, “What are you on about witch? I learned it from you!”

“What,” Hermione recoiled, “Don't be ridiculous!”

“Really,” Ron smiled brightly, “Let's ask Cormac McLaggen about that shall we. He's just gone upstairs.”

Hermione reddened instantly and gave Ron an evil slit-eyed stare.

“Don't you even…” She pointed her quill at is nose.

“Oh cork it Ms. Head-Girl-High-Inquisitor!” Ron replied cackling wanting to change the subject, “So what's your assessment of our new Transfiguration professor?” He asked that waggling his eyebrows several times.

“Honestly?” Hermione replied, “I really like her teaching style. I enjoy her no-nonsense approach to our practical lessons and she's very competent. Pity you can't seem to stay out of trouble long enough to realize that. ”

“Amusing you shameless little suck-up but I agree!” Ron said with a devious grin, “She's got style that one.”

“Umm…hmm,” Hermione gave him a droll look, “Not to mention 38 double D's.”

“Why Hermione Jean Granger,” Ron said in affected pain putting a hand over his heart, “you wound me! To know you think I'm that shallow…”

“Certainly not Mr. Weasley,” she smirked, “It's just a random coincidence every bloke in the school has queued up to take her classes.”

“She is popular with the lads, no doubt,” Ron said matter-of-factly, nodding.

They sat and talked comfortably for what seemed like hours. To Hermione it felt like wrapping herself in an old soft and familiar blanket. It had been so long since she had felt this way. She got little work done but for the first time in her life as a student…she didn't care.

She could tell Ron was feeling something similar because even when they fell silent for a moment she could see his mind working to stretch the comforting familiarity as far as he could. He didn't seem to want it to end…and neither did Hermione.

To her, this was like coming home. It was like taking a deep and calming breath as a long-forgotten moment of serenity settled around them. The rest of the common room and the other students within seemed to disappear as they sat there talking about simple things. There was only one thing missing and they were both acutely aware what it was. It was Ron who finally breached the subject.

“Heard from Harry lately?”

“Yes, actually,” Hermione smiled, “I finally got a letter from him. They only allow mail in or out on Fridays it seems. If that wasn't enough you've got to address everything to Kingsley…oh, excuse me, Commander Shacklebolt care of the Ministry! ”

“You're joking?” Ron asked amazed by that bit of new, “It sounds like they've got the bloke under lock and key or something.”

“Well apparently they're serious about the security and secrecy of whatever this program is. They are going to give them a week off over the Christmas holiday. He's coming here first for a day or two.”

Ron sat up straighter.

“That's brilliant Hermione!” Ron beamed.

“After, I want to spend some time with my mother and father and I want them to get to know Harry better,” Hermione said wistfully, “I feel I've lost touch with them so much over the years and I want to fix that. I need to make up for lost time but I don't think I'll ever be able to catch up.”

Ron sat lost in reflection for a moment staring into the fire. Thoughts of Cassandra swirled around in his head as he sat there trying to come to terms with his own desires. He looked up seriously at Hermione for a moment.

“You and he are getting pretty serious aren't you?”

Hermione straightened a bit. They hadn't breached the subject since their talk on the train.

“Yes Ron,” Hermione said softly, “You were right what you said on the train. I think things turned out just as they were supposed to. I'm not saying that to hurt you…”

Ron held up his hand to stall her.

“It's alright Hermione,” Ron smiled sadly, “I'm glad you've found some happiness. I know Harry is and that's good, yah?”

“Yes,” Hermione smiled, “It's a very good thing.”

“Can I ask you something?” Ron inquired looking at his hands thoughtfully for a moment.

“Of course,” Hermione replied a bit curiously. She rarely ever saw Ron looking so serious.

“How do you know when you truly love someone,” he asked glancing up at her with doleful eyes. It made Hermione's heart pinch, “I mean, don't get me wrong…I have my own theories but…”

Hermione was taken aback for a moment. It wasn't like this boy to ask deep and esoteric questions like that.

“It's just that…I'm not sure if I really know or understand what love is or how it really works,” he continued, “How do you know when what you feel for someone is true love or just…something else?”

Suddenly Hermione understood what he was asking but why he was asking her she had no clue but then it dawned on her.

Because you're friends you dolt! You've known one-another for half your lives. There's almost nothing you don't know about Ronald Bilius Weasley but in kind he knows so very little about you. You should be shocked he hasn't asked you all kinds of personal questions over the years. You've been so emotionally closed off from everyone for so long…even your closest friends! And yet…they still trust you!

That realization made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She sat back and thought about his question seriously for a moment. How did one recognize true love? She knew what she felt for Harry was real and true because it had been there all along, buried under years of denial, the struggles of their daily lives and the ignorance of youth.

…But what exactly made love true?

As she sat there lost in the depths of her mind she was suddenly hit with a rather strange but profound epiphany that seemed to come completely out of the blue. She looked at Ron with a sad smile.

“I'm certainly no expert on the subject Ron. You of all people should know that but if I had to make an educated guess I would quantify true love like this…”

“Love, you know like what we feel for our friends and family and the like…is something different for everyone. There isn't one specific element to categorize it. I think that type of love is something that we find outside ourselves and it grows like a living thing. It gets stronger the longer we are around the people we care about and we possess the ability to share it with others.”

“True love, in my humble opinion, is something that comes from within. It's something that exists inside us all but needs a specific catalyst to bring it out…like that one special person we were meant to be together with or the one that fits us best. I think true love is rare. Not many of us find it and when we do it's more precious than anything else in the world. Does that make any sense?”

Ron sat gaping at her open-mouthed. It took him a moment to snap out of his silly stupor.

“Merlin's beard, Hermione!” Ron replied, “You really are the most intelligent person I've ever known! That makes perfect sense!” He stopped and considered a thought for a moment. “Do you think what Harry felt for Ginny was true love?”

Again she thought about that. She had no way of knowing for sure but another unique thought occurred to her.

“I have no idea Ron. You would have to ask Harry that but I'm not sure even he would be able to answer that question honestly. I think when we're young we become so wrapped up crushing on someone it often feels like true love because it's our first or because it's something new and exciting. That doesn't happen to everyone but it happens more than you think. I think you'll agree Viktor Krum and Lavender Brown both, sort-of, fall into that description yes?”

Ron nodded hanging on her every word.

“However, having said that I think we sometimes mistake caring for love. Harry has such an enormous capacity for caring about those around him not only do we take it for granted, we automatically assume it's out of love he does the things he does. You know, like his whole saving people thing. I don't believe it's that complicated. I think he does those things because they're just the right thing to do.”

Ron sat quietly absorbing what she said. He tried desperately to apply her logic and common sense to his own life but came up depressingly empty.

“Why so curious about love all of a sudden?” Hermione asked chuckling softly. “One of your Birds want to start nesting with you?”

Ron ignored the jab and just shrugged.

“I don't know…not sure really. I guess I'm just trying to figure out why everyone around me seems to, you know…have someone, someone they have settled down with and I haven't been able to.”

“I realize now what happened between me and Lavender and I think even me and Cassandra certainly wasn't true love. I care about them sure but it's not the same thing. I'm not sure it would have been true love even if you and I would have worked out.”

That surprised Hermione. Again she sat and thought about it, then replied.

“Well…Ron. I must admit that analogy is certainly erm…interesting but I think I get your point. If my theory on true love is anywhere near correct then I don't think we can go looking for it. It's not something you find…it's more like something that just…happens.”

“Yah, I can see that - Makes a lot of sense. Do you think it will happen to me some day?” Ron asked.

He looked so depressed she didn't have the heart to say the first thing that came to her mind;

No Ron! You're too bloody selfish and thick. True love could jump up and smack you across the forehead and you probably wouldn't recognize it!

“Well, being I'm not quite the gifted seer that Trelawney appears to be I'm going to hedge my bets and say I'm fairly confident it will. Just don't expect it to happen with every girl you meet Ron. I think you'll know when it does.”

“You know that smacks very close to what Divinations is all about,” Ron quipped smirking.

“Divin…balderdash!” Hermione huffed crossing her arms, “Don't be ridiculous!”

“I'm not being ridiculous,” Ron said seriously sitting up straighter, “I thought about this a bit when I was locked up at the Minister's mansion. I mean, let's take the Half Blood Prince for one example…”

“Half Blood Prince,” Hermione snarled, the memory of that still didn't set well with her. The book was a menace and it almost destroyed her relationship with Harry, “What does that have to do with Divinations?”

“The Potions book itself,” Ron replied, “Absolutely nothing.”

“Then I don't see your point.”

“Of course you don't,” Ron smirked, “because it's not that obvious. It's not the book itself Hermione but who ended up with the book.”

Hermione raised her hands shaking her head slightly as if asking, `So what!'

“Think back, Hermione. Both Harry and I forgot to bring our potions books to class that day remember…”

Hermione nodded.

“Slughorn told us both to go to the bookshelf and get a loaner book for the day. I chose a brand spanking shiny new copy and Harry selected a ragged mangy old copy for himself…why? There were a few other brand new books lying there Hermione. Why would he choose the old one?”

The wheels were suddenly turning at the implications of what Ron was suggesting. She suddenly smiled.

“That's easy Ron. Harry Potter was raised with the Dursleys!”

“So?” He asked.

“So,” Hermione continued, “He never had anything new. It was probably nothing more than the cause and effect of being forced to accept whatever was left over after the rest of them were done with whatever it was Harry needed. He simply chose the hand-me-down copy by habit. Simple human nature in that case,” she shrugged her shoulder.

Ron chewed his thumb for a moment deep in thought.

“You make a compelling argument but remember Hermione I'm a product of a hand-me-down life as well. It may have not been the same way but I never had anything new either. Get what I'm saying?”

“That's…erm…well,” Hermione had to mull that one over for a moment. He made his own compelling argument.

“So let's just say for argument's sake I had chosen the Half Blood Prince that day and applied all the little tips and tricks to win the Felix Felicis. What would have happened?”

Hermione found herself going back to that day. Harry had used the potion he had won to make Ron believe he could win the Quidditch match - No mystery there, Ron would have used it for that purpose himself probably - Then Harry used it to get Professor Slughorn to reveal…”

“Merlin's beard!” Hermione whispered.

Ron sat back with arms crossed looking very pleased with himself.

“I think you and I are on the same page now, aren't we?” He retorted.

Hermione screwed up her face like she had just tasted something very unpleasant.

“So what, you're trying to convince me this was Fate or Divinations stepping into play there?”

Ron leaned forward.

“All I'm saying is that, just maybe, there are things that are beyond are capability to rationalize with conventional or magical explanations.”

“Sorry, not convinced,” Hermione grumbled, “because using your same logic Ronald you could also make the case Professor Snape could have set the whole thing up by leaving his potions book there to be found in the first place.”

“Maybe,” Ron's eyes twinkled in the fire light, “and that just might work if you don't take into consideration Snape decided to accept the D.A.D.A class without gathering up all his things from the Potions lab or left Hogwarts the night he killed Dumbledore without all his personal effects.”

“But…but,” Hermione was suddenly stumped. Ron clenched his fists in frustration.

“Why can't you just admit there might be a smattering of truth to the concept of Divinations? I mean, why teach it here at all then? Do you really think a wizard like Albus Dumbledore would have kept such a subject if he didn't at least believe it himself…just a little?”

“He…I…,” Hermione spluttered, “Oh poo!” she huffed slumping back in her seat. The whole conversation was making her very uncomfortable.

When did Ronald `Thick-As-Mud' Weasley become so bloody introspective?

Then she remembered the remarkable changes in her Harry during their all too brief holiday. The changes in him were profound.

It's because you're all growing up you idiot. All three of you have been through some intense situations over the past seven years. Things like that would change anyone…even you!

Ron smiled, “Having made my points, I think, I still can't understand why they're still letting her teach! We have Firenze now don't we? ”

“Well,” Hermione responded with a frown, “I guess they still feel sorry for her. I mean, she did spit out the mess that had everyone running in circles all those years ago. She managed to convince Voldemort into believing her nonsense didn't she?”

Ron chuckled but his eyebrows were pinched together.

“It's not funny Ronald,” she groused, “You know what happened last time she spit out a bunch of gobbledygook and yes, I still think it's gobbledygook! However, I must admit the whole bloody wizard world was knocked on its side!”

Ron sobered instantly at that statement. People died because of it.

She had not told Ron about the new so-called Prophecy yet but as she sat there trying to absorb his strange line of rationality she realized he trusted her so she should return the favor. Besides, Harry was his friend as well…

Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

“Listen Ronald,” she began quietly, looking around them to see if any others were within earshot. The look on her face told Ron this was something important. He leaned closer to her chair, “I'm going to share something with you but you must promise not to say anything to anyone else about this until I've had a chance to discover more about it, clear?”

“Of course Hermione,” he replied then raised a hand to swear, “May Dean Thomas' bullocks fall off if he tries shagging my sister.”

Her eyebrows flew up into her hairline. She was suddenly struck dumb. She shook her head greatly irritated.

“Why is it that one moment you can have a deep philosophical conversation about something as deep as the mysteries of the magical universe then come off the cuff with something that stupid? I swear Ronald, you act as if you're part toadstool sometimes!”

“Sorry,” Ron blushed slightly, “just had to throw that in there.”

“Do you know the term…T.M.I. Ronald,” Hermione asked still looking a bit shocked.

“Training magical idiots?”

“Too much information, you knotweed!” She groused but couldn't help chuckling.

“Wouldn't have suspected it was something that simple coming from you,” he grinned.

“Ron this is serious!” Hermione hissed.

Hermione took a deep breath and told him about the new prophecy the daft old Professor spit out before the term started. She even copied the words down on a slip of parchment for him but spelled it so only he could see it.

Ron sat back groaning covering his face with his hands.

“Merlin's bullocks,” he mumbled, “Not again! Why can't these idiots go terrorize someone else for a change, you know, like the United States or Japan or some far-away place like that? Bloody hell, the Yanks would probably love the devious bastard! Make him a bloody moving picture star or something!”

“Do you think it could happen again,” Ron asked darkly, “Do you really think Voldemort could find his way back?”

Hermione stared at Ron pointedly for a moment.

“Well,” she said soberly, “he did it once didn't he?”

“But how,” Ron said with rare intensity, “All the Horcruxes were destroyed! He's dead! We saw him with our own eyes…didn't we?”

An icy chill swept through the room as if someone had flung open a window. The thought of incomprehensible evil returning from the grave left Hermione shrinking within herself. She knew she had managed to decipher enough of the cryptic message to know that whatever was coming - It was pointed right at Harry James Potter…again!

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36. 36 - Training Part 3

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

A.N. - This is a rather long chapter because I'm attempting to wrap up as much of Harry's training I can fit into the confines of this story before it ends - One reader suggested it should have been made into a story of its own and they were probably right so if anyone out there wants to take this concept and run with it…be my guest!

Chapter 36 - Training Part 3

As everyone lined up in their assigned spots reassembled after breakfast, McTavish stood ramrod straight at the front of the perfectly square little group. Again, much to Harry's surprise (and a touch of dismay) the woman Bridgette was now lined up to his immediate left.

Although she was quite attractive in what seemed a rather reluctant and intimidating sort of way she gave off the distinctive `don't-mess-with-me' attitude. The other female recruits appeared to be much more normal or what Ron would call, `typical birds.' Of course, Harry trusted Ron's assessment of women about as much as a leisurely stroll through Gringotts completely unprotected. Ron had completely passed on Hermione after all.

“All right everyone,” McTavish growled, “Please pay attention! Let's have a quick roll call before we begin the day. Very well, let's start with number one and go from there, shall we? Just respond with a here or present and that will suffice!”

“Preston Archer?” McTavish boomed loudly.

“Here,” the first in line replied.

“Trevor Bain?”

“Here,” said the next.

And on it went until he got to recruit number eight.

“Err, Heimlich…ehm, Fletch…err, Flesh…” McTavish stumbled, “Sorry laddy, you're gonna have ta' `elp me with that one if ya' don' mind.”

A young man in a heavy German accent responded.

“Eet ish pronounshed Flet-Spitz-Zitzle-Brow. Perheps eet woult be best to just call me vat effry von elsh doesh…Spitz!”

“Right,” McTavish replied blushing slightly, “Perhaps that's best.” He made a note on his clipboard.

The instructor managed to make it through the rest of roll call without murdering the rest of the recruit's names too badly. With that he turned his attention back to the group.

“Vary good! We'll meet precisely this way at o-six hundred every morning Saturday through Thursday. You will take your places just as you did this morning, arms-length apart and standing at attention until instructed otherwise. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir!” everyone said loudly as one.

“Excellent! Now for our first official lesson of this term,” McTavish said, “Recruits, fall out and follow me. Come on now! Step lively!”

They made their way passed the Dining Hall and Physical Strength Training area, down a slight hill to what appeared to be a shallow valley that ran along the length of the compound. Not far away could be heard the North Sea pounding the craggy peaks that separated the compound grounds from the coast. They could see a few small ponds and a rather shallow marshy area between them. It was to the edge of this marshy section they all came to a halt.

To say the marsh had a pungent smell was the understatement of the decade! What was at first thought to be a marsh actually turned out to be a full-blown peat bog, complete with black-looking muck that bubbled and oozed here and there. The smell of rotten eggs and dead things permeated the sense of smell and watered the eyes.

Several of the recruits sneezed in response. McTavish chuckled.

“All right, gather round recruits, gather round!”

He waited a moment until everyone was once again in a tight group.

“This first exercise is very simple ladies and gentlemen. Quite simply all you have to do is…cross the bog! For the first portion we'll start at number one. On the way back, we'll reverse the order just to be fair. Alright then, Mr. Archer, I believe you're up!”

McTavish took a step or two back from the edge of the stinking bog as Archer made his way tentatively forward to stand at the edge. He glanced up at the Instructor with an inquisitive look of slight bewilderment.

“You mean…”

“Cross the bog laddy,” McTavish said, his face completely unreadable, “Doesn't get any simpler than that does it?”

Archer stood there in thought for a moment, then shrugged and stepped off the solid edge and sank ankle deep in muck. As he made his way forward about three or four steps out it remained about ankle deep. They heard him comment.

“This doesn't seem so baAAAD!” Before he had finished his declaration he had sunk up to his knees.

“I think it best if ya keep movin' Mr. Archer!” McTavish said, his expression still giving nothing away.

One of the other recruits raised their hand to ask a question.

“Yes Mr. Ellsley?”

“What's in there?” He asked looking a bit pale.

“Honestly,” McTavish shrugged, “No idea!”

With that Archer started moving a bit faster. As he waded his way through he sank up to mid chest in the nasty black glop leaving a wake of brackish black water. After about twenty feet of chest deep muck he started rising out until almost completely exhausted, threw himself out of the bog on the bank on the other side.

Harry couldn't believe what he was about to have to do. Thoughts of all kinds of things hiding in the muck passed through his imagination. He looked around to find he wasn't the only one thinking along those lines.

“Next” McTavish growled, “Quickly now, we've not got all day.”

Trevor Bain made his way forward and with a pinched look on his face took the plunge following in Archer's footsteps for all the good it did. The results were exactly the same for Bain.

On and on they went crossing the bog and coming out the other side covered up to the chest with stinking black mud. Some did their best to try and clean off some of the muck and dig it out of their pockets but they were still a mess.

As Harry watched this all take place he began to think. If they had their wands crossing the bog would be a snap. All they would have to do is come up with some sort of spell or charm to make crossing the bog less massy like a solidifying charm or something of that nature but without their wands…

But then a thought invaded his consciousness…

What would Hermione do in this situation?

She had always been a great one for figuring out solutions to even the most complex problems. Crossing a peat bog was relatively simple compared to some of the things they had been faced with over the years.

There has to be a better way…and if so would I be allowed to use it? After all, the instructions were…'Cross the bog!” He didn't say how, simply get to the other side.

“Think stupid, think!” Harry muttered to himself. As he stood there watching the next step off the edge into the muck he realized Henry Nigglesby was now crossing which meant he was third in line.

As Nigglesby emerged he realized he had lost a shoe somewhere in the muck. With a flick of his wand the Instructor extracted the lost shoe from the bog. It came out of the muck with a nasty sucking sound as it popped free.

He wracked his brain, eyes combing the entire area to see if he could recognize something that might give him a clue. As he stood there chastising himself for not learning wand-less magic he realized these people, Auror trained as they were surely knew much more about wand-less magic than most but weren't using it so it must not be allowed in this task.

But there has to be SOMETHING!

He shouted it in his head as Daniel O'Rourke was about to step off the edge. The Bridgette girl was next, then him.

Then a realization dawned on him. He felt stupid that he hadn't thought of it earlier.

Well, are we witches and wizards or not! Nothing was said about having to do this the Muggle way! Just `Cross the bog!'

As he stood there O'Rourke was struggling to force himself into the muck while on the other side the others stood or sat about looking more than a little put out.

Should I share this with the others? Will I get in trouble for doing it this way? Why? The Instructor didn't say we couldn't.

Finally Daniel was about to take the plunge at the rather insistent behest of the Instructor when Harry decided to take a chance.

“Wait!” Harry shouted. O'Rourke drew his foot back and everyone turned to stare at him.

“Yes Mr. Potter,” McTavish asked evenly, “You have something you wish to say?”

“I…I think I know a better way to cross the bog,” Harry stammered nervously. He thought he was about to make a complete fool out of himself.

“Is that so?” McTavish asked folding his arms across his chest and pinning Harry in his steely gaze, “Well then, why don' ye go next Mr. Potter and show us the way?”

Harry's heart sank. His stomach rolled uncomfortably and he suddenly felt ill. He made his way shaking slightly to the edge of the peat bog. The smell struck his nostrils like a physical blow. He could help but wrinkle his nose at the stench which made some of the others snicker.

I'm about to make a complete idiot out of myself but…won't be the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last.

Another voice materialized in his head suddenly.

“Merlin's beard Harry! You've looked Death himself right in the eye and walked away more than once! You're going to worry about something as trifle as crossing a barmy peat bog! I'm surprised at you…really I am!”

With that voice echoing in his mind he focused on the opposite bank of the bog for a moment and, picking out a thick patch of marsh grass, he fixed it firmly in his mind's eye. He then turned and vanished with a pop! In the blink he was standing on the other side of the bog, clean, dry and very much red-faced waiting to be chastised for his action.

McTavish just look over in Harry's direction, nodded then looked back at O'Rourke.

“Alright then,” the Instructor said quite calmly, “You're next O'Rourke. Get a move on lad.”

Daniel O'Rourke, as well as all the others stood there gaping at the instructor like he had just transfigured himself into a Troll.

“You…you mean we can apparate?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, why not?” McTavish was grinning slightly now, “You are a wizard are you not Mr. O'Rourke? If you recall, all I said was cross-the-bog. I didn't say how, did I?”

Everyone was stunned speechless and most of them on the far side of the bog all covered with glop were glaring at Harry like he was Voldemort himself. He started sweating profusely.

“Well,” McTavish said, “get on with it!”

The rest of them sheepishly apparated to the other side. After the last one crossed they were all then instructed to cross back in reverse order. When they were all back on the side they started from the Instructor got them all back into formation.

“Now,” he said, now grinning openly at them all, “Would anyone like to tell me the lessons we've learned here today?”

One of the recruits covered in muck raised his hand.

“Yes Mr. Finster?”

“Always let Potter go first!” Finster answered.

Everyone burst out laughing, except the Instructor. He wasn't amused.

“I certainly hope that's not the only thing we've learned here today ladies and gentlemen. Not only would you greatly disappoint me but it would lead me to believe that we may have been a bit to hasty in our selection for this program.”

The snickering laughter died instantly.

“Does anyone else care to take another guess?” McTavish asked a bit more seriously this time.

There was quiet murmuring among the group as Harry glanced around. They all looked deep in thought. The only thing he could figure was that it had been a trick…sort of…but then again…it wasn't. All they were instructed to do was cross the peat bog.

With a bit of surprise Bridgette Patterson raised her hand.

“Yes Ms. Patterson?” The Instructor pointed to her.

“I'm a Muggle born sir and I heard a saying once that I think sort-of applies here.”

“Is that so,” McTavish said, “Care to share it with the rest of us?”

“Certainly,” Bridgette said, “the saying was look before you leap sir.”

A very telling and knowing smile crossed the big Instructor's face as he beamed at Bridgette.

“I couldn't have said it better me-self lass! Did everyone hear that?” McTavish asked.

Everyone nodded except Bridgette. When Harry glanced at her he immediately noticed she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye with a rather odd look on her face. It was the type of look you give when you're not quite certain of what it is you're looking at. Inquisitive, speculative, then she did something completely unexpected.

She flashed him what Harry knew very few girls in the world possessed but he knew three right off the top of his head, Hermione, Ginny and Cho Chang…a radiant, thousand-watt smile!

He couldn't help but blush looking at his shoes trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“Look before you leap!” McTavish restated, “Don't just throw yourselves into a situation without thinking it through first, yes? Archer, what made you decide to just heave off the edge into the muck like that?”

Archer just shrugged his shoulders turning beet red.

“I thought that's what we were supposed to do. I guess it was the fact that we had to give up our wands that made me think we were supposed to do it the Muggle way sir.”

McTavish considered his response for a moment.

“I suppose I can see how you may have made that assumption lad but let me ask you…was that the first thing you thought of? Be honest.”

“Yes sir,” Archer replied.

“That's what I thought,” the Instructor grinned, “and to be honest that's exactly what we thought you would do. All of you! That's precisely why we did it just this way, to illustrate the importance of three basic concepts we want you to remember going forward after today.”

“First, never take anything at face value! Not everything is as it seems. Take time to assess your situation, study your surroundings and make certain you've looked at any given situation from all angles before you leap off that cliff or go rushing into a room full o' dark wizard types! Agreed?”

Everyone shouted assent.

“Second, never take for granted that what you're told is correct! How do you know the bloke in front of you is making the right decision! Question everything! I'm not suggesting you defy direct orders but silently ask yourselves, is this the best possible solution to the problem? What are the consequences of my actions? Don't be afraid to put your superior's orders to the test, to yourselves, of course but if you decide they are mistaken suggest clarification and/or make suggestions to alternative actions.”

“And third, but equally as important, you are not in this alone ladies and gentlemen! If you see someone about to make a mistake in judgment or do something stupid…STOP THEM! We're all on the same side here. What affects one affects us all! Before we are through with this training you will be relying on four other members of your team. If you can't grasp that concept you will not survive here, is that clear?”

There was a mumbling of agreement.

“I can't hear you ladies and gentlemen!” McTavish boomed.

“Yes sir!” they responded loudly as a group.

“Better!” The Instructor said, “Now fall out and return to your quarters, clean yourselves up and report to the Dining Hall for lunch.”

They began to disburse.

“Oh,” the instructor said, “I almost forgot. Well done Mr. Potter in figuring out what older and much more experienced Aurors could not seem to!

As the rest moved off they passed by Harry.

“Good job Potter,” Gorman said. He slapped Harry on the back

“Yah, indeed, well done kid!” Bloom added patting Harry on his head.

With pats on the back, chest and head most of those covered in muck congratulated Harry as they went by. Before he was able to react Harry now found himself dripping with the same smelly glop most of the others were covered in. It was even dripping off the corner of his glasses.

“YUCK!” Harry yelled as he stood there, arms outstretched, dripping, “Come on…!”

A sudden flash of irritated anger crossed his mind but as he looked up he saw the Instructor covering his mouth with his hand trying to stifle a fit of laughter. His face was red with effort.

The look on McTavish's face was all it took. Harry burst out in a fit of loud laughter. It was all he could do.

A few of the guys who had covered him with the muck turned and watched Harry for a moment. Archer and Harcourt, glancing at one another chuckling and shaking their heads, made their way back to where Harry was standing dripping with glop laughing like a loon.

“Come on kid,” Harcourt said, throwing an arm over Harry's shoulder, “Let's go get cleaned up.”

After they had all returned to their respective dorms, showered and changed into clean uniforms Harry felt much less tense. The rest of his dorm mates were all babbling with chatter about their first lesson.

“Well,” Casey Quigley said, “I don't know about the rest of you but that bloody lesson made me feel a bit stupid!”

“Oui,” Giles LeBlanc agreed in a heavy French accent, “Makes one feel a beet `umble to know zee youngest and least trained of uz all has more common zense zen zee rest, no?”

“Ah,” Tillman Rogers chuckled, “The kid just got lucky this go round! Let's see how he does when things get a bit more difficult!” He was smiling at Harry as he pulled on a pair of clean socks.

“Hey,” commented Daniel O'Rourke pointing at the rest of them, “The bloke kept me from takin' a bath in that muck. Far as I'm concerned…he's my hero!”

All the rest of them broke out sappy sounds of affection and gushing admiration, some making smoochy faces at Daniel but Harry could tell it was all in fun. They all seemed to be smiling, laughing and jovial in their jest so he tried not to take it personal.

Hobart Tubbs, the self-proclaimed eldest of Dorm 2 was a bit more serious in his pronouncement.

“Fairly damned telling if you ask me and since no-one has I'll put my two knut's worth in anyway just for good measure,” he said tying the laces of his freshly cleaned shoe. “What that little exercise illustrated to me is how we are all used to doing things our own way and it took an eighteen year old kid to make us realize we all have a lot to learn not only about ourselves but how we view our rolls as Aurors.”

“We have been expected to perform completely on our own in the field with nothing more than our wands and our wits! When you look at things in this new way, or at least in the way this program seems to be structured, it makes me wonder why the bloody hell they didn't do something like this years ago,” he straightened with hands on hips looking over the rest of the group. “Maybe things would have been different if they had. I lost my best mate in the fight at the Ministry.”

“That's because we didn't have Commander Shacklebolt at the helm then.” Someone said.

“Indeed,” said another, “but it took him spending time in the Muggle world to figure it out didn't it?”

“Perhaps,” replied Tubbs with a sigh, “but I suppose things were quite different back then. It just aggravates me that we've been subjected to such inept leadership over the past several years, is all.”

“Well, this Minister's different, isn't he?” Quigley urged, “Sees things from a different perspective and not afraid to take advice from his staff.”

“Say Potter,” Henry Nigglesby asked frankly, “Wasn't the Minister's youngest kid one of the Golden Trio?”

Here we go! Harry thought glumly.

“Yah,” Albert Lydecker added, “You're right Henry. Went to Hogwarts with you and that girl…what's her name?” Albert snapped his fingers trying to remember.

“Her..mine Granger or something like that,” someone else said.

“She's a little cutie that one!” Another bloke said.

“She's young enough to be your baby sister you dolt!” Someone shouted before Harry could get defensive.

“I know,” the bloke replied, “but that doesn't mean she's not a looker.”

Harry was starting to get a bit agitated but tried to keep his frustration from showing.

“Boy that Weasley kid sure went round the twist didn't he?” Tillman Rogers commented with a chuckle, “Talk about letting fame go to your head.”

“I'm surprised you didn't jump on the Savior of the Wizard World express yourself Potter,” Quigley said matter-of-factly looking seriously at Harry.

Harry felt the heat rising up out of the collar of his shirt.

“Look guys…” he was about to retort but Tubbs cut him off.

“See here you dunderheads,” Tubbs snapped, “If I'm reading Potter right and I think I am, he appears to be just as adverse to all this Savior nonsense as the rest of us, am I right Harry?”

Harry could only nod.

“Otherwise we would have seen his mug plastered all over the front page of the Prophet but from what I gather there wasn't a single word about him…so, it's just as the Director says then isn't it…we're all equals here! Mind you all remember that.”

With that Tubbs made his way out of the dorm.

“Maybe Tubbs is right,” Harry heard someone say as he made to follow Tubbs out the door. He'd heard about enough for the moment, “Potter doesn't seem to have the big head at all does he?”

“No actually,” someone else muttered, “seems to be a rather quiet bloke for someone who's done the things he has!”

There was a smattering of agreement among the rest. Harry suddenly just wanted to become invisible again and found himself missing his cloak for the first time in his life. He thought about the cloak as he made his way to the Dining Hall.

Kingsley had asked Harry if he could take the cloak and allow the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries to analyze it to see if they could reproduce the similar effects in another like it. It would be an invaluable tool to be used by the Infiltration Specialists on each team even if they could produce something that might be even close to the original.

Harry baulked at first. He knew it was irreplaceable, not just because it was one of the Deathly Hallows but because it was the only one there was, it seemed, even across the history of the wizard world itself. Besides, it had been his father's and it was one of the very few things he possessed from his parents. That in itself made it priceless.

When he had told Kingsley those concerns and reservations the Commander assured him he would guard the cloak as if it were his own, only allowing it to be in the Unspeakables possession for the duration of their examinations, then it would be locked in the vault in the Minister's office until it was returned to Harry. He had reluctantly agreed.

Hermione was beside herself when she found out. She seemed to have very little confidence in the Ministry's ability to control anything let alone something as important as the Invisibility Cloak. She told him about her list and since then Harry had not slept well with that knowledge, but then he had reminded himself and her that Arthur Weasley was now Minister and Arthur knew all too well the importance of that cloak. Still, it had not mollified Hermione much at all.

Even though, he knew he wouldn't rest easy until he had the cloak back tucked safely in his own trunk.

As he followed in Hobart Tubbs' wake he felt someone sidle up next to him. When he looked up he found himself starring into Bridgette's subdued face.

“I suppose I should thank you for keeping me from having to cross that muck but I'm not going to pretend you did what you did just for me,” she paused like she wanted to say something else but then just added, “anyway…good job kid.” She elbowed him in the ribs as she moved on ahead.

Her comment totally confused him for a moment.

Is it just me or is the girl completely self-absorbed?

Harry could do nothing more than shake his bewildered head as he made his way into lunch. The crack about him being a kid didn't set well but he quickly realized he was quite a few years younger than the next youngest Auror in the place so he was forced to admit, the description kind of fit.

There was much discussion about the first lesson and some that thought Harry should have figured it all out faster than he did. To his surprise it wasn't Tubbs who came to his defense this time but Bridgette Patterson herself.

Everyone else just accused her of sticking up for him because she got to stay dry but the poking and cajoling was all light-hearted. Harry, on the other hand found himself mired in the depressing thoughts he had earlier about having to deal with his notoriety.

He decided to cut his lunch a bit short and left before most of the others were finished.

The next morning found them being issued a program itinerary to show them what to expect in the first 8 weeks of training. It was all a bit confusing to Harry but some of the others helped him understand what to expect. The itinerary was as follows;

Part One Training Lessons;

*-Cross the Bog, Lesson in teamwork and using deductive reasoning while in combat.

*-Introduction to the Gauntlet - Daily exorcize; Physical training obstacle course changes daily. Everyone required to pass the Gauntlet to begin each day's training.

*-Defensive spell, incantation, ward and protection from multiple/simultaneous attack

*-Combat on open ground - Use of anti-apparition wards, spells and traps

*-Combat in tight, enclosed or clustered environments

*-Using items in surroundings to aid in combat

*-One-on-one Dueling - Misdirection Dueling - Doppelganger Dueling

*-Multiple Hostile Interaction

*-Wand-less/Voice-less commands, spells, incantations, hexes and jinxes

*-Mental Training; Group application; Level one

Fear - Dealing with Indecision, Confusion, Panic

Confidence - Trust in others, Courage, Creating a defensible position

Pain Management

Anger management, grief, sadness

Dealing with prejudice

*-Tactical House - First level training - Each room of cottage contains different sets of scenarios recruits must work through on individual basis such as Secure Location, Hostage Rescue, Curse/Ward Detection and Removal, Hostile Takedown, Infiltration and Escape.

Each morning after roll call they had a physical exercise period for one hour then…they had to make a pass through the Gauntlet. That appalling torture device was an obstacle course designed to enhance strength, speed, balance and endurance and all the recruits had to pass through it cleanly before the actual training session would start for the day.

Harry couldn't help but think the old Hogwarts caretaker Filch would have been beside himself with glee to see this thing!

It was very difficult for most at first and what made it worse was that the obstacles changed daily. After about the first week they all seemed to be getting a little better getting through the thing and by the second week, most could pass through the Gauntlet on the first try.

Harry spent an inordinate amount of time nursing aches, pains and bruises in places where he never even knew he had places! The daily physical training was brutal but after just a short time he started feeling himself getting stronger and quicker. The daily aches and pains seem to subside to just a dull constant throbbing.

What was even more surprising was that none of the original twenty-five recruits quit the program and everyone seemed committed to seeing it through to the end.

Harry found himself being subjected to all kinds of tests and intense instruction and seemed to be able to hold his own fairly well. He found his more experienced fellow recruits willing and able to help whenever he struggled with a particular task and began to feel a little more at ease in the entire program.

No-one seemed to care about who he was or what he had done but he also discovered very quickly he didn't know nearly as much as he thought. The lessons and training was very difficult and utterly taxing. They would all return to their barracks after a day's sessions and the evening meal completely spent and exhausted.

After a while they all seemed to settle into a regular routine and Harry started feeling more and more confident in his abilities even though most of the other recruits could still run rings around him. To almost everyone's shock it was the rather quiet and freaky gothic Tonks look-alike that had the highest evaluation scores of anyone in the program.

One Friday afternoon while Harry took his turn cleaning the latrines he heard someone out behind the barracks in a small clearing. It was getting a bit late and the rapidly approaching twilight prevented him from being able to see much. There was a lot of grunting and the unmistakable sound of punches being landed hard.

Someone's fighting!

Harry rushed to the place where the noises had come from and pulled up short when he finally could see what was going on.

It was the Tonks look-alike, Bridgett Patterson and she was sparing with what appeared to be a collection of uniquely carved pieces of wood connected by little bits of rope. The thing's basic shape was humanoid with head, main torso, arms, legs, hand and feet all jointed at the right locations of neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees and ankles.

Harry watched stunned as the wooden puppet-like think attacked Bridgett relentlessly with kicks, strikes, lunges and punches and was amazed at her skill at dodging, deflecting and blocking everything the thing was throwing at her.

At one point he watched as the darkly beautiful gothic woman deflected a punch and spun inside the wooden dummy's outstretched arm. She slipped her own arm around the dummy's head and with a grunting heave hoisted it over her shoulder using her hip as the fulcrum point. She twisted and spun again slamming the dummy to the ground hard enough to rattle all its joints.

Harry knew if that had been a real person there would have been some serious broken bones as a result of that takedown. He couldn't help but marvel how physically tough and strong this woman was…not to mention her incredibly well-defined body. She was wearing a pair of rather tight black sweat pants and a matching sports bra. She was also wearing fingerless black leather gloves and a black bandana that sported a white skull and cross bones insignia on the front tied around her head. Much to Harry's surprise she was barefooted and it wasn't what you would call warm outside. The icy wind coming off the North Sea felt like it could cut right through the thickest garments, even though she was covered in glistening sweat in the early-evening setting sun.

Bridgett Patterson was about the only recruit that kept mostly to herself. She wasn't very friendly nor was she the chatty type. Since that first day after the Peat Bog incident she had not spoken more than a dozen or so words to anyone but everyone quickly came to realize she was one of the most skilled and talented recruits in the program. She was also the toughest, meanest and scariest.

Harry was about to go back to his chores when he heard her speak.

“You spying on me kid,” she asked without turning to look at him.

She hoisted the wooden dummy back to its feet and it stood a bit wobbly for a moment until it seemed to shudder then stiffen, taking up its disjointed arms and hands to stand rigid and ready to begin sparing again but instead of attacking it just remained where it was holding inhumanly still…waiting.

“No,” Harry replied quickly, “I was just…erm…I heard something and…well…just sounded like someone was fighting and I thought…”

“Thought you'd be the knight in shining amour and rush to save the damsel in distress?” She quipped, tossing him a sardonic smirk over her shoulder.

That comment raised the hackles on Harry's neck. He was beginning to think this woman one of the most un-friendliest people he'd ever met.

“Well I suppose that explanation might work if I had know before hand there was a girl involved but I suppose that's just a mere formality to you isn't it?” He replied a bit heatedly, then turned and began making his way back toward the barracks terribly annoyed.

He stopped when he heard her start clapping slowly, each sound making a loud cracking noise in the crisp still evening air. He stopped and turned to regard her.

“Well done Potter,” she sneered, “You really put me in my place with that comeback. I'm impressed.”

Suddenly something in Harry shifted and he felt his anger flair white-hot. Against his better judgment and tossing reason and common sense to the four winds he stomped back toward the woman and got right up into her personal space glaring angrily at her.

They were both almost the same height so they stood eye to eye. Harry's looked the woman right into her dark mascara-trimmed eyes, the intensity of his own not faltering this time. He was too irritated to be coy.

“Did I do something to offend you Ms. Patterson,” Harry asked in an even voice tinged with a heated frustration, “or do you always just act as if someone has piddled in your porridge?”

Part of him was a bit surprised he could find the gumption to face down this powerful and very intimidating woman like this (and be snarky to boot) but another part of him, the part that stood face to face with incomprehensible evil and certain self-destruction told him this was no big effing deal!

For a moment they both just stood there leering into one-another's eyes. Harry's a bit angry and hers completely blank, showing no emotion at all. She then did something completely unexpected…she smiled…that same glowing `thousand-watt' smile he had seen that day in the peat bog.

“Well, well, well,” she whispered, “The Golden Boy does have a spine and is, apparently, one of the only blokes on in this program that does.”

That comment caught him almost completely off guard. It left him even more confused.

“What in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean,” he asked taking a step back putting his hands unconsciously on his hips. This woman was so weird!

Bridgett just shrugged, she stood relaxed still regarding him with some odd internal amusement that reflected from her eyes and crossed her lips in that same sardonic smirk.

“I guess I just thought you'd be the last one to have the balls to tell me I'm acting like a complete arse to my face, that's all.” She smiled again.

“Acting like a…” Harry stated completely knocked sideways by this strange conversation, “Well, then why do you act that way all the time. You telling me you act that way on purpose? That's…that's…” He couldn't seem to find the words to continue. Harry just threw his hands up shaking his head in disbelief then turned to go back to his chores with a growl of frustration.

“It's just some stupid defense mechanism that has developed inside me over the years,” she called out to his retreating back, “and I'm afraid it's become a really bad habit sometimes. Other times…it's necessary...”

Harry stopped and when he turned to look at her the woman's whole demeanor had changed. Gone was that sneering look as well as the defiant glint in her eyes. This time she was looking at her hands and the new look on her face could only be described as terribly sad and empty.

“I've never been very good at making friends,” Bridgett continued, “I've been alone most of my life bouncing from one orphanage to another and I suppose teaching us social skills wasn't all that important to the nuns and social workers. I found it more useful to learn how to fight. It was a survival thing I suppose but I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand.”

Oh boo fecking hoo for you…poor little thing!

Again, the hackles on Harry's neck stood up and he made his way back to the woman to stand in front of her, looking her right in the eyes again.

“Oh I think I understand a lot more about that sort of thing than you can possibly imagine Ms. Patterson,” he replied evenly, “Part of the problem is no-one ever gives me credit for knowing anything, so why bother trying to explain.”

“Oh really,” Bridgett sneered putting a hand on her hip and shifting her weight cocking sideways a little, “What the hell does the great Harry Potter know about being alone! The whole bloody wizarding world loves you. I'll bet you can't go anywhere without getting mobbed by all you adoring fans!”

Harry's eyes narrowed and his lips set in a thin line.

“You don't know anything about me,” he groused, then turned and again began making his way back to the barracks.

“All one has to do is read the Daily Prophet Mr. Potter,” she quipped.

“Then that's your mistake Ms. Patterson,” Harry huffed, “You can believe what you like! I don't really care!”

“Mistake!” she hollered.

Before Harry knew it the powerful woman had his arm clamped by his bicep and spinning him around to face her.

“Then why don't you set the record straight Potter,” she pinned him with a serious glare, “that way I can give you proper credit for what you know.”

“Why bother,” Harry stated getting very angry now, “You wouldn't believe me if I told you!”

“Try me,” Bridgett replied, releasing his arm and folding hers tightly under her ample breasts.

“Why,” Harry asked again. He had no idea why she was pressing him so hard. What did she care about his life or his past and what difference did it make?

“It's like the Director said, isn't it,” she stated a bit more calmly, “we're supposed to get to know one-another but I want to know the real Harry Potter, not the barmy sot talked about in pubs or written about in books and articles.”

“If I'm going to allow someone to watch my back I want to know who I'm really dealing with and weather or not I can trust him or her, know what I mean. Besides…” she smirked a little playfully, “You're the only one I can't seem to read very well. All the other blokes in this program are fairly easy to get a hold on but you…”

She left that last comment hanging in the cool evening air between them.

Harry's shoulders sagged slightly. He hadn't even given that prospect a second thought. He just felt she was trying to take pot shots at him for being a stupid celebrity. She was right…it was about trust but he was too blinded by his own anger to see it.

“All right,” he replied, looking at her seriously, “What do you want to know? I don't have any secrets or anything to hide so you can ask me what ever you like and I'll tell you the truth but at the moment I've got lavatories to scrub to a gleaming shine, my turn for latrine duty.”

“Ugh,” Bridgett made a screwed-up funny face sticking her tongue out and Harry couldn't help but smile, “Better you than me this go-round. Tell you what, why don't you spar with me. I come out here three or four evenings a week to train with a doppelganger but I think it would be much more fun putting you on your arse then a bunch of spelled firewood.”

“Great,” Harry quipped, “That's all I need. If I didn't get bruised and battered enough by all this crazy training why not add getting thoroughly throttled by the toughest girl on the planet! Sounds like cauldrons full of fun!”

“First,” Bridgett replied chuckling, holding up a gloved fist with her index finger pointing in the air, “I'm not a girl and if I have to explain the distinction between a girl and a woman then I'm going to be very surprised and a little disappointed in you Mr. Potter.”

“Second,” she flipped her middle finger up, “While I'll concede I don't know much about you I have learned by watching you during our drills that you're not one to back down from a challenge no matter how hard it might be and while I appreciate your comments about being tough, which I like to think I am to a certain extent, keep in mind you don't know all that much about me either.”

“So what do you say Mr. Potter? You can tell me all about the real you while I teach you a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat that this place will likely never teach you...how to fight dirty and never lose!”

Harry considered her offer for a moment. He was convinced the woman could teach him things he'd never likely learn anywhere else and the prospect of having that secret knowledge was tempting but the idea of being slung around like a rag doll wasn't all that appetizing however…

“Alright,” Harry replied eyeing her a bit wearily crossing his own arms, “With a few conditions.”

“And what are those Potter?” Bridgett asked lifting her chin slightly.

“First,” Harry replied, holding his fist in the air with his index finger pointing skyward just like she had, “As long as you don't forget I'm not made of wood I'll spar with you.”

Bridgett laughed.

“Second,” he flipped his middle finger up but then paused, thinking, “Well, I don't really have a second condition. I just wanted to hold my fingers up to be as annoying as you are!”

With that he turned and bolted toward the barracks laughing like crazy.

“Oh, you dodgy little…” Bridgett huffed and tore off after him, “I'll show you annoying you barmy bugger!”

But luckily Harry had reached the rear entrance to his barracks before she could catch him gasping for breath and cheeks flushed from the cold night air. It was almost full dark now.

“You just wait Potter,” he heard her call from outside, “I'm gonna tie your bloody behind into knots when I get my hands on you!” Thankfully she was laughing when she said it.

Henry Nigglesby, one of his dorm mates, who was lying on his bunk reading, looked at him with eyebrows raised.

“Making friends are we Potter?” He chuckled grinning, “I can't imagine you trying to put the make on that woman. You must have a death wish!”

Harry just shrugged grinning.

“Bridgett Patterson isn't so tough,” he quipped knowing that statement was complete hogwash and the look Henry gave him seemed to suggest the man agreed.

“I'd be careful around her if I were you,” he said folding an arm behind his head gazing seriously at Harry, “I'd rather tweak the tail of a sleeping Norwegian Ridgeback then tangle with that one. She looks like she could tear your arms off and beat you to death with them!”

“Yah,” Harry agreed still grinning, “but something tells me that bark is far worse then her bite.”

They regarded one another for a moment before both of them burst out laughing.

“That was a really stupid thing to say wasn't it?” Harry quipped.

“”You're words,” Henry laughed, “Not mine. At least I know you've got some common sense in that head of yours!”

As the weeks passed December was fast approaching and Director Boreguard announced they would be given leave for a week during the holiday. Harry was beside himself with glee and wasted no time in writing Hermione to let her know. The letter he got back was so disjointed (which was completely unlike Hermione) with excitement it had made him laugh.

The days seemed to fly by as Harry was totally getting immersed in the training and finding he was getting better every day. His very unlikely new found friend Bridgett Patterson, who had picked up the nick-name `Stormy' by all the others due to her rather abrasive nature, began sparing with him three times a week.

In the first few sessions Harry had to admit she had played nice for the most part with Harry only being thrown flat on his back a few times.

They spent the majority of that time talking and getting to know one-another. He had basically recounted his miserable childhood living in the Muggle world completely oblivious to magic, wizards and witches and she quickly regretted her snide comments that first evening. Harry just let it go in his usual unaffected manner.

After they had become a bit more comfortable personally with one another Harry found himself relaxing a bit more around the woman even though she remained just as guarded and seemingly aloof to everyone else.

Even though, as the weeks passed, even her hand-to-hand training got tougher but he was learning some very useful and surprising fighting skills. She was amazing and found himself getting stronger and tougher because she didn't treat him like someone special.

She let him have it…and the scrapes, bruises and knots were a testimony she was not about to go easy on him…but he was getting better every session and after a while Bridgett began to find herself on her own butt more than once in a while.

Bridgett had confessed many of the guys they were training with had made advances to all the other girls and they were becoming a bit frustrated with the unwanted attention but thought going to the Director to complain was a sign of weakness on their part. Apparently none had the gumption to put the make on her with the exception of one Armando Bloom.

That bloke thought himself the gift to women everywhere but was quickly surprised one afternoon after training when he made the horrible error of swatting Bridgett on her tight and well-sculpted bum after she had set another speed record on the Gauntlet obstacle course.

She had grabbed his hand and all but tied the bloke up into very uncomfortable looking knots before she turned him loose.

It grated against Bridgett's nerves and Harry saw how much it bothered her. It seemed that many of the blokes didn't seem to take the women very serious even though most all of the ladies in the program were better at the training then the guys.

There were a few who considered the women as nothing more than window dressing so the Ministry could make itself look good. It was Harry who came to their defense but he noticed attitudes didn't change much.

It made him a bit uncomfortable because he knew just exactly how powerful and amazing a girl could be…He was in love with one of the cleverest and most powerful there was as far as he was concerned.

He told Bridgett all about Hermione Granger and the things she had done to help him through those first years and gave her most of the credit for getting him through the darkest years of his life.

“She sounds like quite an extraordinary young lady Harry,” Bridgett said one evening after a grueling workout, “I think I would very much like to meet her some day.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that you will,” Harry smiled, “I'm in love with her. She one of the only people in the world left who knows me well and one of the very few I can trust without question.”

“Well,” Bridgett said giving Harry a significant look, “Who knows Harry. If this program is successful maybe there will be a few more you can trust. I'm beginning to see the real you and I must confess you're nothing like I thought you'd be. The idea of knowing someone like you has got my back doesn't seem so scary any longer.”

“Well Ms. Patterson,” Harry smiled, “the feeling is quite mutual.”

“Ugh,” Bridgett smirked, “Please don't call me Misses! It makes me feel old and I'm not sure how I like that.”

“Alright then,” Harry grinned, “Stormy!”

Bridgett's face scowled in affected anger.

“And I don't much like that name either,” she huffed folding her arms tightly across her middle.

“Stormy…Stormy…Stormy,” Harry quipped laughing as he backed away from her.

“Keep it up!” She warned but Harry kept taunting her until she flew after him and they tangled in a heated grapple. The spar was very evenly matched with neither being able to get the upper hand. Finally they stopped panting and sweaty even in the cold winter air.

“Well, well,” Bridgett huffed trying to calm her breathing, “You've certainly come a long way Potter!”

“I've got a really great instructor,” he grinned gasping, “She's amazing. I'll introduce you to her some day but mind you, she can be a bit grouchy at times…”

“Oh you…” He was off again running for his life, Bridgett tearing after him while many of the other recruits watched them laughing, poking fun and taking bets as to how many knots she would tie his arse up into.

That next week the recruits of the E-Spec Division got another bit of good news. Since they had performed to the highest standards and surpassed expectations the Director and all the instructors agreed they should get a free day so that Friday, after Kingsley's weekly meeting, all the recruits found themselves on their way to the village of Hardaway for a day of rest and relaxation.

Some decided, with permission of the Director, to go exploring the island. Since some would be separate from the main group all the recruits were required to carry their new communication mirrors with them, just in case.

Little did anyone know how important they would be during that time and Harry Potter had no idea he was about to get a major case of `Been there-Done that'…

“So,” a recruit named Peter Fourth asked, “what do you lot want to do?”

“Isn't there a pub in this town,” Benton Hooper inquired as a large group walked down the road toward Hardaway, “I'd love a big mug of frothy ale right about now.”

“Four actually,” someone replied.

One of the female recruits, Deanna Cranbury sidled up next to Benton, who was a tall African man.

“You know,” she added, “That sounds top notch that does!”

“Yah,” Casey Quigley agreed, “It does!”

“That's all fine and dandy you all,” Hobart Tubbs said, “but mind you don't get too pissed please otherwise the Director might think twice before he lets us come down here again savvy?”

The others all grumbled but none disagreed.

“Where did those other blokes go,” Daisy Weeks asked.

She was a willowy blond girl that didn't look stout enough to break out of a wet cardboard box let alone fight a bunch of sinister dark wizards but she had proved time and again she could hold her own in all their training sessions.

She reminded Harry, sadly enough, of Ginny Weasley. With that thought he began thinking about Hermione and began missing her terribly.

“Preston Archer and some of the other blokes in Dorm 1 went off to explore the island somewhere,” Hobart replied, “I just want to find a nice quiet place to sit and do absolutely nothing for a while.”

Many other mumbled in agreement.

Bridgett must have noticed the far-away look in Harry's eyes and thumped him in the ribs with an elbow. He jumped slightly.

“What was that for,” he glowered at her.

“You look a million miles away there Harry,” she grinned, “Wouldn't want you to step in a hole and get lost now would we?”

“Very funny,” He smirked.

When they finally reached the town of Hardaway proper most all the towns folk greeted them warmly and all the recruits remained on their best behavior.

Harry, Bridgett, Deanna and a few others decided to peruse the little shops and vendors as they made their way down the main street through town. Bridgett bought a new bandana and Harry treated them all to an ice cream cone.

It was one of the best cones he had ever had because it was all made by hand (and with a little magic as well.)

They were all sitting chatting about nothing important when Harry felt his mirror vibrate in his pocket.

He realized, while he reached for his, everyone else's mirrors must have gone off as well because they all reached for them at almost the same time.

When Harry opened his a face appeared on the mirror. He recognized the face at once but couldn't quite remember the bloke's name but then one of the other female recruits Tracy Marcus piped up.

“Hay, that's Egbert Ellsley,” she said, “He looks a bit frantic doesn't he?”

Harry noticed what she meant. The man's face was a mask of sheer terror as he peered into the mirror, eyes wide as saucers.

“…NEED HEL…” his panicked voice was breaking up, “WE'RE IN…CAVE…THE SOUTH ….THE ISLAND! WE …HELP!”

That last word caught everyone's attention. Bridgett surged to her feet just as Hobart Tubbs came flying around the corner of the building next door to them.

“Did you lot catch that!” He yelled as he stuck his head into one of the shops where some of the others were, “I think we've got a few recruits in trouble! Come on you guys get the led out!”

The rest of the team Harry was with were all on their feet now moving toward Tubbs.

“What should we do Henry?” Someone asked.

“We're gonna find them,” he replied emphatically, “I'm sure the Director's monitoring the Comm. mirrors but I'm not willing to wait for a response. Which way is south from here?” He asked the local who ran the ice cream stand. Both he and his wife pointed off over their shoulders toward the far end of town.

“Do you know the cave the man in the mirror spoke of?” Bridgett asked.

The man nodded.

“Yes, it's a cave on the side of the sea wall down near the water line. It's only accessible during low tide unless ye want ter take a swim. It's low tide now so I'm a bettin' tha's where the lad is. Follow the road south outta town. Ya' canno' miss it. You'll run right inta the sea!”

“How far…” Tracy Marcus asked.

“About a mile and a half I guess,” the woman said, “Maybe two.” She shrugged, “But no-one goes near that cave!”

“Why,” Deanna Cranbury asked.

“Because it's a haunted place,” the man said frowning slightly, “No-one who's ever gone in there has ever come back.”

“Let's move you lot,” Bridgett shouted as some of the others rushed up asking what was going on, “Think we should apparate?”

“NO!” Hobart Tubbs shouted quickly, “There's no telling where we'd end up because we have no idea where we're going!”

“Good point,” Harry replied.

“LET”S MOVE,” Tubbs shouted, “I think we might have some team mates in trouble!”

Nineteen recruited set off moving just as fast as they could along the south road out of town. Tubbs sent Daisy Weeks back to the compound just in case the Director and his staff were not monitoring the mirrors. As they ran just as hard as they could someone asked a rather obvious question.

“What the hell do we do when we get there? We have no wands?”

“I don't know,” Hobart Tubbs said huffing as they bolted down the road past field upon field of frozen tilled up ground. The soil was a black as coal. Rich farm land stretched as far as the eye could see to the left and the right.

Tubbs pulled his mirror and tried to raise the ones who went exploring and called them by name but there was no answer. He also tried to contact the Director but again the mirror stayed stubbornly blank.

Ahead they began to hear the sounds of the surf bashing against the rocky shore of the island. As they got closer the dark grey of the North Sea stretched out in an endless expanse along the edge of the land in front of them.

When they reached the edge the land fell away and they stopped at the cliff an easy 300 meters from the crashing waves below. The sea looked ominous and angry under the steel grey of the sky above.

The wind lashed them like icy swords as they all stood peering down over the cliff.

“Surely they didn't go down there?” Peter Fourth remarked, “How the bloody hell would they have gotten down there?”

As they stood and surveyed the craggy broken landscape below, Harry spotted a huge rock not far off shore. It stuck up out of the grey roiling surf like a pointed bow of a ship and as the shape and angle of the huge black rock settled into his mind he realized with a sudden frightening clarity and a bitter realization…he knew exactly where they were.

It all came rushing back to him as he stood there suddenly frozen with fear. He could see the cliff wall in his mind as if he were standing on the big rock below them…because he had stood there once before…with Albus Dumbledore!

“I think I know where they are!” Harry shouted against the howling wind. He pointed to a spot almost directly below them, “We have to get on that rock to see the cave entrance!”

“How do you know that?” Bridgett asked gawking at him with wide eyes.

“No time to explain!” He urged, “We've got to get down there now! If they're in the place I think they are those blokes are in big trouble!”

“What do you mean Harry,” Tubbs asked, “What kind of trouble?”

“Inferi!”

“WHAT!” Bridgett shouted.

Just as she was about to press Harry for further details they heard the unmistakable sounds of apparition behind them.

Director Thurston Boreguard was rushing forward with all their instructors in tow. They all had wands at the ready. He regarded his recruits with a rather knowing tilt to his lips.

“So what do we have here ladies and gentlemen?” The Director asked, “Mr. Ellsley's communication sounded rather ominous.”

“We're not sure Director,” Tubbs answered a little out of breath, “but Harry seems to know!”

Director Boreguard's eyebrows when up as he fixed Harry with a bemused stare.

“That so, Mr. Potter?”

“Look,” Harry replied gesturing frantically toward the cliff, “There's no time to explain! We've got to get down there now! If those blokes went into the place I think they did they're all in mortal peril!”

“Indeed,” the Director replied, “How do we get in Mr. Potter?”

“From that rock,” Harry said pointing to the boat-shaped outcropping, “There's Inferi in that cave!”

All the instructors looked shocked and stunned.

“Inferi!” The Director reared back slightly, “Instructors let's go! Harry could you show us the way?” the Director asked and Harry nodded emphatically, “The rest of you stay put! We'll call if we need you!”

In the next second Harry was standing on the outcropping looking up at the black craggy cliff that loomed over him. There was no mistaking it now. This was the place where Voldemort hid the locket Horcrux and the place that contained the lake full of the dead.

He dove in the water head first without hesitation and swam for all he was worth. The freezing water bit his skin like serrated teeth and knocked the breath from his lings but he swam with purpose. When he lifted his shaking form out of the water all the others were clearing the water on his left and right.

He dashed forward into utter blackness but as he picked his way into the cave he heard the unmistakable sounds of yelling and screaming.

With a crack several wands came alight and chased the darkness toward the back of the short entrance. He remembered the opening to the underground lake was off to the left and he didn't hesitate to move forward with his instructors at his heels.

When they reached the edge of the lake, the scene before them made Harry's breath hitch in his throat.

Hundreds of Inferi were chasing what appeared to be three men along the narrow lip that ran the circumference of the lake. They were throwing rocks at them, punching, kicking and throwing bodies away from them.

Director Boreguard, along with his staff wasted no time stepping around him to intercede. Hey began throwing curses and hexes knocking the Inferi back into the lake but they were relentless in their single-minded pursuit.

“Use fire Director,” Harry shouted, “That's what works best!”

Director Boreguard regarded him for a moment but then turned and he, along with the rest of the instructors unleashed an inferno on the dead that drove them spitting, hissing and screaming back into the lake.

“Armando and Heimlich are in the lake Director,” Preston Archer yelled as he collapsed to the stone floor of the cave in exhaustion, “They drug them into the water!”

In the next second, two of the instructors had a spluttering and choking Armando Bloom and Heimlich Fletshpitzitzlebraugh dangling above the placid water of the underground lake up-side-down by a leg. They looked, for all the world, like drowned rats but they were alive.

When the other recruits found their way to the entrance they all collapsed near the mouth of the cave profusely thankful for the rescue.

“How on earth did a bloody cave full of Inferi come to be here?” The Director asked completely beside himself with anger and confusion.

He eyed Harry for a moment but said nothing as he assisted his staff in helping the five adventurous recruits find their way back up to the top of the cliff.

When they were all safely back on dry land Instructor Ali-Ben Hassim used his wand to dry Harry off.

“Thanks,” Harry said giving his instructor a nod.

“What the bloody hell happened down there,” Hobart Tubbs asked as he helped a shaking Egbert Ellsley to his unsteady feet with the help of Deanna Cranbury.

“We'll sort it all out when we get back to the compound Mr. Tubbs,” the Director stated, “I think it best to get these five explorers settled and into the warmth for now.”

Tubbs nodded and they all began moving back toward town. Some of the other recruits helped the other four get to their feet. Harry slipped his shoulder under a quivering Preston Archer along with Bridgett.

“Grab my bum Preston and I'll throw you back over that cliff, got it!” Bridgett groused but Preston didn't look like he was in the mood to do anything but vomit. He was fairly green, “And you throw up on me I'll toss your arse back to Great Briton!”

After they had all returned to the training compound Director Boreguard asked Harry to his office to explain his knowledge of the cave and what it contained. They were stunned to discover the truth about Voldemort and what he had done.

Not long before Harry was to leave the island before the Christmas break Kingsley came with a small army of Aurors and Hit Wizards to clean out the cave and seal it up so no other unsuspecting souls could get lost in the depths of the darkness and despair the Dark Lord had left in his wake.

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37. 37 - May Wonders Never Cease

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 37 - May Wonders Never Cease

Hermione found herself in her usual spot in the library working on her difficult post-graduate curriculum after taking her shift on Head duties the night before. She had a rather difficult paper to write on the effects of transfiguring larger inanimate objects. It was an exceptionally difficult skill to learn and Hermione had to admit she was struggling with it a bit.

---^-^---

She also had to admit Professor Star was not just a pretty face and `boobs to die for' as Ronald had so eloquently stated one day before class began. She was a competent and capable instructor and her students towed-the-line in her classes. She didn't tolerate nonsense which meant Ron stayed in trouble constantly. She was also concerned about her student's progress…all of them and made an effort to keep them from falling behind.

Hermione respected that and much to her surprise Professor Star seemed to recognize Hermione's skills and advanced abilities and was one of the first to ask her for assistance in tutoring and even asked Hermione's opinion on course curriculum.

Ron had told her that it was just all those years of being a teacher's pet know-it-all finally paying off. She had slugged him in the shoulder but all it had done was hurt her hand and made all her knuckles pop loudly.

Most of the boys struggled to get beyond the Professor's beautiful face, strange violet eyes and enviable physical features but most managed to scratch by.

But she couldn't seem to shake the unsettling feeling the undeniably gorgeous Transfiguration Professor knew more about what had happened during the conflict between the Ministry, the Order and Voldemort and his lot then she was letting on and it made Hermione feel a bit unsettled. She couldn't quite seem to find how all the pieces fit together but she knew something was coming. She just had no idea what and it was beginning to drive her a bit spare.

Even so she had little time to spare on considering the new Prophecy much like the last time. The only difference was that now it was being mired in lessons, homework, Head Girl duties as well as all her self-inflicted tasks she had taken on instead of being chased all over the place by Death Eaters and trying to keep her boys alive and in one piece.

All of Hermione's classes had taken on a decidedly more demanding feel. She knew she was more than up to the challenge and it felt good to be pushed academically but between that and all the other stuff it left time for little else.

With the Marauder's map now in her possession it simplified some of her tasks as Head Girl. Finding many of the more amorous older students engaged in heated romantic trysts locked in broom closets, off the beaten path hallways and corridors, behind tapestries and even in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was much simpler than chasing them all over the castle.

Many of her fellow students began to believe the Amazing Hermione Granger had some strange mutant ability to detect overly excited hormones or something and that's how she had seemingly uncanny accuracy in finding those little clandestine meetings.

For Hermione it was nothing more complicated than consulting the map and the use of a very clever and never-before-considered resource she tapped into to assist her - The Hogwarts Portraits!

She remembered her conversation with the Mermaid in the Prefect's bath that night back when her world was still full of darkness and pain and still struggling to find some sense of balance. The Mermaid had told her most all the paintings knew who she was so she used that knowledge to her advantage and it worked!

.

With little convincing necessary she pressed the Hogwarts portraits and paintings into her service as spies to report on the goings on about the castle when she was otherwise occupied herself. They too were well aware of what happened the night of the final battle at Hogwarts. They were most happy to assist and did so with relish. They considered their new duties somewhat of a contest among themselves and a welcome respite from their boring existence just hanging around all the time.

She asked if she could move a painting call The Three Witches of Whitehaven - Three young women eventually burned at the stake for practicing witchcraft and heresy in the eighteenth century - to the Head dormitory and she used them as liaisons with the rest of the portraits throughout the castle.

She had to have a serious heart-to-heart talk with Sir Cadogan though. He was of the mind that it was his duty to dual to-the death any student out of their quarters after hours for any reason. After enlisting the service of a dragon out of a painting from the Slytherin common room and scaring a group of fourth year Hufflepuff girls bad enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary she had to re-educate the overly rambunctious Knight. It had not been easy.

After a while the Hogwarts ghosts, statues and suits of armor got in on the game. They thought it great fun sneaking up on unsuspecting lovers, chasing them back to their dorms. Even Peeves assisted on occasion when he wasn't just being a general public nuisance.

After a while the students began to get a bit wiser. They began monitoring Hermione's shifts and reserved their sessions to when Neville was on duty. Compared to Hermione, Neville was as thick as troll bogies when it came to such things.

It was then Hermione decided to bring Neville in on the secret of the Marauder's map. He almost swallowed his tongue when she showed him the map and how it worked. She would never forget what he had said.

“You know, we could have really used this when we were still at Hogwarts last year, would have made things a lot less painful.”

He wasn't accusing, just simply making a statement. That was Neville. He could kick you right in the box and not even realize he was doing it. She felt guilty for days after that and it wasn't even her map.

After that, clandestine student meetings and trysts all but ceased and many began grudgingly referring to Hermione as Little Umbridge or D.U. Jr.…behind her back of course.

The Headmistress was well pleased with her Head Boy and Girl's performance and thought the use of the Hogwarts portraits a brilliant idea.

“Why didn't I think of that?” She said to Hermione during a meeting one afternoon.

Argus Filch was about the only one who wasn't pleased with the Head Girl's progress. He complained to the Headmistress he hadn't been able to use his dungeon in over three decades and his implements were becoming rusty.

He was heard to tell the Headmistress, “Ya know, I never though I'd ever `ear meself say this bu' I sorta miss them Weasley twins.”

The look the Headmistress gave Filch sent him scurrying quickly back to his office down in the bowls of the castle commenting after 40 years he had still not been able to get even one barmy poltergeist under control.

He was unusually quiet and surprisingly cordial to Hermione after that. Even Mrs. Norris didn't scurry away when she came across the Head Girl during her rounds.

---^-^---

As Hermione sat in total concentration on her paper she had not realized someone had come up to stand directly behind her until she noticed a shadow cross her parchment. When she turned to look she was almost stupefied to find Draco Malfoy standing there rather stiffly as if he were almost embarrassed to be caught in her proximity.

“Can I help you Draco?” Hermione blurted out nervously before she could collect her wits.

“Actually,” he replied in an almost inaudible whisper looking down at his shoes, “I'm thinking you're about the only one who can,” he paused, then looked her full in the eyes, “or might…at any rate.”

Inwardly Hermione sighed. She knew Draco had changed dramatically but she had no idea to what extent. He was unusually quiet, private and kept almost completely to himself. Rarely did she ever see him unless it was in the few classes they had together and he rarely participated in class. He silently went about doing his work and seemed to be content to be left to his own devices.

Gone was that swaggering arrogance of the old Draco. It was as if he was quite happy to be not noticed by anyone.

…But there he stands...asking for help.

She couldn't help but remember her little dissertation down in the Slytherin hallway that night just after the term started. She got the impression he was trying to reach out. Why? She had no clue but once-again she felt it important to at least meet him half way and try to give him the benefit of her own irreverent hope this wasn't just some stupid trick to play her the fool. She had started it after all.

But do I really have time for this?

She groaned inwardly as she reluctantly motioned to a chair on the other side of the table across from hers.

When Draco settled into his chair he sat stiffly upright as if it were taking all his strength to accomplish the task but his expression remained completely neutral.

“So how can I help you Draco,” She did her best not to sound as exasperated as she felt. She remained as detached and as neutral as he appeared to be.

“I think I made a mistake,” He replied cryptically.

When Hermione did not reply but merely watched him with a touch of hardness in the set of her jaw he continued. Hermione was not going to set herself up for any foolishness.

“I requested to take the same level courses you did thinking it would place me in a different setting from the rest of the students…”

This revelation stunned Hermione for a moment but she let him continue without interrupting.

“Imagine my surprise when I found myself in the same classes as I started in. Only the requirements had changed.” He sighed heavily. “To be perfectly honest…I don't know what the bloody hell I was thinking.”

“And you're telling me this because?” Hermione asked wearily.

“The truth is Granger, I'm in over my head and any…assistance you might be able to afford me in making sense of these lessons would be greatly appreciated.”

Hermione was about to remind him that part of her many duties as Head Girl and Resident Know-It-All was to tutor those who were struggling in most of her classes but to her surprise Draco seemed to have anticipated her response. He held up a hand to stall her reply.

“I realize you tutor many of our classmates but I believe they are all on the regular curriculum level, yes?”

Hermione nodded but then a thought struck her.

“You mean to tell me the only reason you took these advanced courses was to separate yourself from the others? Why for Merlin's sake?”

What Draco said next stunned Hermione like a full blown, point-blank hex to the face.

“Let's just say I'm beginning to understand what it must have been like to be Harry bloody Potter all those years ago.”

She sat speechless for a moment. She knew she must be gawking stupidly at him but she seemed powerless to move. The thought Draco Malfoy identified with Harry Potter on any level was both shocking and quite disturbing. She eventually shook off her surprise and simply asked…

“Explain?”

“I know it probably sounds ridiculous to you but the constant ogling and incessant questions about what it was like to be in Azkaban are now quite tiresome and draining. I seemed to have become somewhat of a…curiosity to those with enough gumption to inquire. I can see now what it must have been like for the Boy Who Lived, everyone looking at you like you're from some strange far-away land or like you've contracted some incurable and contagious disease or something. It's not easy to admit that, by the way.”

Draco's whole demeanor took on the unmistakable look of pure sadness.

“I just want to get through this year and get on with my life but I don't want to be a complete failure. I'm hoping you of all people can understand that.”

“I do.” Hermione replied still a bit guarded. She couldn't help it. This was Draco Malfoy after all.

The thought of having a deep, meaningful (and civil) conversation with this boy was as foreign to her as jumping on a broom and participating in a Quidditch match but here he was, calmly admitting he had misjudged certain aspects of their lives over the past few years. This was more than significant. It was a bloody break-through!

“So,” she asked trying to ease some of the tension between them. He still sat rigid as if prepared to flee at any moment, “have you thought about what you'll do after you graduate?”

Hermione had no idea why she was trying to ease his apparent distress but that simple and relatively innocuous question seemed to do the trick. His shoulders visibly relaxed as he sat back slightly apparently realizing she wasn't going to start hurling curses at him.

“Honestly,” Draco replied, “No idea, you?”

“I haven't really had the time to think that far ahead since the term started.” She said.

Draco's lips curled at the corners of his mouth into what Hermione figured was his version of a smile. It could have almost been interpreted as a grimace.

“I can certainly understand that given all your responsibilities. I consider myself fortunate you're allowing me to sit here with you.”

Hermione frowned slightly.

“Alright Draco,” she quipped, “There's no need to placate. So what are you having immediate trouble with?”

Draco gave her an understanding nod. He then produced a rather thick roll of parchment and handed it across the table.

“At the moment I'm working on a rather demanding essay for our thesis requirements in History of Magic. I would appreciate it if you would proof it for me. It's only a rough draft mind you.”

Hermione nodded and took the essay from him.

“What's the topic?” she asked not looking at him as she uncoiled the roll. It was quite long, at least 6 feet.

“You're going to laugh,” Draco said.

“Doubt it,” Hermione responded matter-of-factly, “You should know enough about me that I don't take school work lightly Draco.” She couldn't help but offer him a rather devious little grin.

“Alright then,” Draco seemed to relax even further with that exchange, “My topic is on the relationship between Goblins and Wizards throughout history. Considering their attitude toward us at present as a result of that little stunt you three managed to pull off at Gringotts which, if I might be so bold to add was bloody impressive by the way, I thought it a relevant topic of a thesis.”

Hermione gave him a dark sideways glance.

“Are you trying to be snarky?”

Draco straightened in his seat at once.

“Absolutely not Granger,” he said seriously, “I think the way you three were able to break into a virtually impenetrable fortress of security is quite telling of your skill, abilities and utter cleverness. You broke into Gringotts for Merlin sakes!” He stressed leaning forward slightly, “Not only that you got out and lived to tell about it! Quite impressive I'd say. Not many in history can make that claim and you're only teenagers!”

“Well,” Hermione replied a bit sheepishly. She had to work hard to keep from blushing and wasn't sure she had managed it, “it's not like it's the first time Gringotts security has been breached.”

Draco gave her a quizzical look.

She was remembering whoever had breached the empty vault number 713 that had once held Nicholas Flamell's Sorcerer's Stone but she wasn't sure how many others even remembered that.

“Never mind,” she said shaking her head, “When you put it that way it sounds daring and thrilling but I assure you it wasn't anything of the sort. It was absolutely dreadful and terrifying. Not something I ever what to repeat but it had to be done none the less.”

Draco nodded.

“Believe it or not that's something I've come to understand after out little talk down in the Slytherin hall that night. I've had some time to come to terms with many of the things you told me. I'd really like to hear how you did it some day from your perspective. That's got to be quite the tail. You really Pollyjuiced yourself as my Aunt? That must have been something to see.”

Now Hermione felt her face flush hotly. She knew damned well there were only a few who knew the real story and only one so far had talked. Ron had described that night in his book and according to Harry had done a rather good job of it.

She busied herself with perusing his essay for a moment. When she glanced back up at him Draco's face had taken on an almost stricken look as he sat staring at his hands. When he caught her looking she laid his paper on the desk.

“What is it Draco?” She asked hesitantly.

“There's,” he paused, unsure of himself, “something else I was hoping you might help me with.”

Hermione's guards went up immediately. She was almost certain it was simply due to the whole unusualness of this entire situation but she couldn't seem to help it. Her internal alarms went off right away. She took a deep breath and sat up a bit straighter.

“Oh?” She replied a bit more coldly then she intended.

When Draco reached inside his robes and produced a wand her hand instantly twitched toward her own. It was a natural reaction due to years of defending herself but when he simply laid the wand on the desk between them she relaxed…but only just. She eyed him wearily and when he perceived the tension she was displaying he continued.

“After they released me from Azkaban I was allowed to have my wand back. Apparently the Aurors kept it after the trial but for some reason it doesn't work for me now,” Draco said darkly, “It doesn't work for me at all anymore.”

The stricken look was back like someone had just lopped off one of his appendages.

Hermione recalled watching him try to use it on the train just before all hell broke loose between him and Ronald.

“I was wondering if you might have some answers that could help me figure out how to correct this problem. This is actually more important to me than schoolwork at present. My mother gave me her wand to use in the mean time but it's not the same. I feel useless and vulnerable and I must admit I'm not accustomed to that. I'm ill suited to being on the outside looking in, so to speak.”

Hermione looked at Draco for a long moment saying nothing but considering everything. She could understand how devastating this might be for him. She remembered all too well what it was like to tell Harry she had broken his wand. He was devastated even though he tried to act differently. It had affected him almost as badly as loosing Sirius but to a much lesser degree of physical pain. It had been more of a psychological blow than anything.

“So that's the reason you want to separate yourself from everyone?” She asked candidly.

“You don't miss much do you Granger?” He smirked.

“Perception is one of the keys to knowledge Draco and assumptions based on those perceptions are what lead us to draw conclusions. It's unavoidable. The next step is to apply reasoning, understanding and evidence to reach the correct conclusion. It's not that complicated a concept.”

Draco's lips curled in an involuntary grin.

“Has anyone ever told you, you speak like a professor Granger?”

“You're the first actually,” she quipped, “and do you think we can get past the whole sir-name thing Malfoy!”

It was Draco's turn to look sheepish. He nodded.

“Sorry,” he said, “Some old habits are apparently harder to break than others.”

That comment made Hermione genuinely smile for the first time since he had appeared behind her. It suddenly seemed that old barriers were slowly falling away right before her eyes. Part of her still had a hard time believing it but the rest of her sat rejoicing in what could only be described as a bridging of a here-to-for unbridgeable gap between his world and hers. This had to mean something important and significant. She could feel it inside. It was almost like the world was slowly righting itself day by day, piece by piece.

For the first time since she had stepped into the Wizard world a seemingly unobtainable concept started to manifest itself in her heart and mind. It was a realization that things were becoming…dare she think it…normal. Much more normal then they had ever been before.

It was that reasoning that caused her to make a decision.

“Alright Draco,” she said, “I am, of course, willing to help you with your coursework. I feel I'm bound by my duties as Head Girl to do that. I'll start by proofing your essay. As far as the wand thing, however…for that you're going to have to do something for me in return.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had not considered there might be conditions! He began wondering what he could possibly do for her when bizarre thoughts of slavery and other odd possibilities began swirling around his brain. He quickly chastised himself for that line of thinking.

Don't be an idiot Malfoy!

“Erm, what is it that you want from me?” he asked bravely.

“It's simple really,” Hermione answered. “I want you to stop hiding yourself away like an outcast. I want you to get back on the Slytherin Quidditch team or something.” An idea occurred to her suddenly. “What about the new Dueling Club? It's become one of the most popular things in Hogwarts this year. Everyone says Professor Dervish really knows what he's doing and he makes it fun and challenging for everyone. Actually, that sounds right up your alley Draco.”

“Up my alley?” He asked surprised.

“Oh come on, I've seen you duel. You're about the only one our age who could stand toe to toe with Harry and give him a real go. I saw you defending yourself against Ronald on the train. You weren't even trying hard because you knew it wasn't a real fight. He was just being the usual don't think - just do dunderhead.”

That made Malfoy laugh. It was a real laugh and it touched something inside her.

“I don't know Hermione,” he said but she could see the wheels turning in his head, “Even though my mother's wand works ok for me for most things I don't know how well suited it would be for something like that.”

She had to admit he did have a point but she was nothing if not a determined bossy little bitch.

“Won't know till you try, yes? Besides, you, yourself said you wanted to get on with your life. I can't think of a better way to start.”

Draco looked at her for a long moment then nodded with a smirk.

“Alright, I'll give it a go. Something tells me you'll not leave me alone until I do…something.”

“See,” Hermione said brightly, “you know me better than you thought.”

Draco sat back in his chair almost completely relaxed now. He seemed lighter then when he first sat down as if a heavy weight had been removed from his shoulders. Even his facial features didn't seem as dark and drawn as before.

She thought of asking him about Pansy but realized quickly that wasn't any of her business and having learned a thing or two watching some of her previous dorm mates she decided to steer well clear of that kind of thing. That was only asking for trouble.

Strictly business then…

“So what do we do now?” Draco asked.

“Well,” Hermione considered a moment. She looked at his wand lying on the table. She reached for it but then stopped. “Do you mind?”

Draco threw a hand out, “Course not. Be my guest. Not doing me much good at present.”

Hermione picked up the wand. With a muttered Wingardium Leviosa she tapped one of her books. The book rose slowly and steadily about three feet off the desk. Hermione then moved it over to Draco and dropped it in his outstretched hands.

“Curious,” Hermione said more to herself then anything. Draco was speechless. She began nibbling at her bottom lip in concentration. She sat silently thinking for a moment as she watched Draco take his wand from her and try to do the same thing she did with no success.

She remembered distinctly what Ollivander had said about wands that morning at Shell Cottage. She would never forget it. It was the moment she realized the Elder Wand and the Hallows were real and the realization that she had been completely wrong had almost undone her.

“…the manner of taking matters. Much also depends on the wand itself. In general, however, where a wand has been won, its allegiance will change.”

“…if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard learning from the wand.”

“Subtle laws govern wand ownership but the conquered wand will usually bend its will to its new master.”

But what was curious to Hermione was there was nothing about a wand not working for its original master once it was returned. What was even more curious was that Bellatrix Lestrange captured and used her wand but when she got it back it seemed to work just fine. In fact it seemed to have a bit more punch to some of the more complex spells for a while until things seemed to reach equilibrium after a few weeks back in her possession. She considered that for a moment.

“I'm almost ashamed to admit I know more about Quidditch brooms than I do about wands and I don't even really like Quidditch, however, what little knowledge I do possess sheds almost no light on what's causing your wand not to work for you. I think it has something to do with how the wand was taken from you, who took it and why. I do know the intricacies of how they work is very complicated and a very specialized field of study.”

“I suppose that's why there isn't a wand maker on every corner,” Draco added, “Makes sense.”

That comment gave Hermione an idea.

“Harry told me Ollivander has re-opened his shop in Diagon Alley. Seems to me if you want answers that would be the perfect place to start, yes?”

“Yes,” Draco blushed scarlet to the tips of his ears, “well, I'm not sure how well received a Malfoy would be in Ollivander's shop.”

“Ooh, yes,” Hermione wrinkled her cute little nose, “that could be a rather sticky situation. Fair enough. I'll correspond with Ollivander and try to get some details. I'll just tell him a friend is having a problem.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow looking pointedly across the table at her.

“I thought you said you and I could never be friends…Hermione.”

“Let's not put the cart before the Thestral just yet Draco, shall we?”

Draco nodded. To Hermione's amazement she thought she perceived a bit of disappointment in him.

“Hideous looking creatures those,” he said softly looking blankly at the table top for a moment.

“Indeed,” Hermione replied.

Hermione suddenly realized the significance in those statements. The fact that they could both now see the Thestrals was a testimony to the previous year. It was a bitter and hollow memory and she had to force it back or risk falling into those dark thoughts once again.

“When is your thesis due,” she asked him trying to distract herself.

“Not till Monday next,” he replied, “so I've got time if you can't get to it right away.”

“Not to worry,” Hermione said, “I'll make sure you have it later this afternoon so you'll have plenty of time to do the re-write. Quick enough?”

Draco nodded as he rose from his chair. He leaned across the table slightly.

“Thank you Hermione. I know you have no reason to help me but I want you to know I do appreciate your kindness.”

Hermione couldn't decide if she wanted to jump up yelling and cheering like a complete nutter or just burst out into tears of happiness and relief. She settled with giving him a nod and one of her more captivating smiles. She absolutely did not trust herself to speak at the moment. She had to do something to keep herself from completely loosing it.

When on shaky ground…be snarky!

“You might want to reserve the thanks just yet Draco,” she quipped, swallowing the lump in her throat, “You've never been on the receiving end of one of my proofs. I didn't get the title of Know-It-All Nightmare for nothing you know. It can be ugly. In fact, that in itself might get your wand working.”

Draco chuckled.

“You see,” he added, “It only makes it clearer to me that I've been hanging around with the wrong kind of people.”

He left Hermione with a rather warm, genuine smile. She couldn't have stopped the tears if she wanted to. It took her a moment to compose herself and when she did the idea that a person like Draco Malfoy could change so dramatically and it being her attitude toward him that had help made her feel better than good. It made her feel like a Gryffindor!

Later that afternoon she had managed to get all her own work finished so she sat back with a cup of tea in the blessedly Neville and Luna free Head Dorm common room and settling on one of the over stuffed couches began proofing Draco's thesis essay.

It began simple enough at the point in history where Goblins and Wizards lives began to run parallel. There were many interesting facts and historical references to many of the more well known and documented accounts of not only conflicts between Goblins and Wizards but also times when there was co-operation between the two beings as well. Not many but they were there for one clever and diligent enough to find them.

Much to Hermione's surprise Draco did an excellent job of research to find most of them and had to admit he did an equally excellent job of presenting them in a clear, organized and interesting manner that made the reader want to know more.

Baring the typical minor grammatical errors and spelling mistakes she found in most of her tutorial work she had to admit he had done an excellent job over all. She also had to admit to herself that he was an intelligent and capable writer.

Thinking back over the years she realized that Draco, even though he had been a bigoted egomaniac and a loud mouth berk, had always been a relatively bright and capable student in a majority of their classes and even though it made her uncomfortable to think it she had to admit he had been a better student then either Ron or Harry, much to her dismay but she couldn't deny the reality of it.

As she delved deeper into Draco's work she came across what he had described as a fictional tale or rather what could be called a legendary fable that involved how the writer, in this case, a poet, (because Draco describes finding the tale in a very old and long- forgotten book of dark poetry in the Restricted Section,) describes how Goblins came to appear the way they do today, hideously shrunken and disfigured.

Since some of the book had been penned in ancient Gaelic he had inquired to Madam Pince who might be able to translate and she pointed him to none other than the Headmistress herself, who he had credited for the translation in his bibliography at the end.

After getting the translation he began to weave a tale that captivated Hermione's imagination unlike anything had in a long time.

The story said that Goblins were once not very different from humans or wizards. They were of average height but most of them were incredibly handsome and beautiful to look upon. It was said that they had an almost ethereal quality to their beauty but as a result were also vein and self absorbed.

It was said the gifts they possessed for working metal and creating priceless jewelry and works of art had been passed down from their ancient ancestors who resided on an island in the midst of the ocean, or what the author referred to as the midst of Poseidon's domain. Some say it was the land of Atlantis itself.

The knowledge of their skills was known throughout the world and they created many priceless treasures for which they were loathed to part with. It was only for vast sums of wealth they sold their creations which made the Goblins wealthy beyond their wildest dreams.

It wasn't long until greed and the lust for gold began to take hold of the Goblin clans and in-fighting began. The unrest created the desire for competition between the clans of Goblins to become the richest of their kind.

It wasn't long after a great Goblin War a Queen emerged from the shadows of a distant land. She was skilled in all manner of dark and dangerous magic. The legend said this Queen could take the shape of any creature she desired but preferred to possess or take the form of beautiful young women to lure men to do her bidding.

The Goblins called her The Black Witch of The Shadowed Highland Realm but the actual translation of the name from Old Gaelic, if applied correctly (according to information provided by Headmistress McGonagall during the translation) would actually read, The Witch Black of the Highland Shadow Realm. But McGonagall had also stated that in many ancient Gaelic texts proper names were often written backwards or out of context for what reason she had no idea hence the rearranging of the name to make more sense.

The tale states the Black Witch approached the richest and most powerful Goblin Clan and commissioned them to create for her the most beautiful and priceless set of jewels ever created, one that would be envied and desired by all who looked upon them. It was to contain a tiara of pure spun gold, set with diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds the likes of which the world had never seen. There were to be necklaces and rings, lockets, bracelets and amulets all matching in their splendor. There would be a staff of pure elephant tusk ivory tipped with gold and at the top two golden serpents twisting and writhing together oriented so that her hand would rest upon their heads, their eyes set with rubies.

The Goblins agreed but only for a price. A king's ransom in gold coins was what the Goblins required.

The Queen agreed and led them to a cave not far from the Goblins village. When they entered they saw piles and piles of gold coins stacked as far as the eye could behold in the dark depths of the cave.

The Goblins set to work but there were those who had treachery in their hearts and made a plan to deceive the Queen and steal her gold. While the craftsman toiled day and night to create the Queen's desires the leaders of the Goblin Clan stole away from the village with wagons and carts in the middle of the night to the cave of gold.

They loaded all the gold they could carry and stole away in the darkness back to the village to proclaim their bounty, their carts and wagons so heavy they left deep ruts in the hard earth. As the tale goes, when they were but half way back to their homeland a Goblin chief noticed his team of oxen labored less the further they traveled and the ruts from the wagon wheels cut less deeply in the hard packed earth.

It was then they stopped and uncovered their prize only to discover they had stolen nothing more than Leprechaun Gold. By mornings first light their wagons and carts were empty. They dashed to their village only to find the Queen had arrived to claim her commission.

When the Goblin leaders arrived they proclaimed the Black Witch had deceived them and paid them with worthless Leprechaun gold! It was then the Black Witch knew the Goblins had tried to deceive her and steal her riches using that revelation to mask her own deception. She then placed a terrible curse on them all.

She destroyed their beauty and turned them into the most hideous creatures on earth to look upon. They would be despised by all who beheld them. They would forever be bound to their lust for gold never to be sated in their quest, never to be satisfied in their need to possess it. They would forever be denied the use of the magic possessed by wizards and forevermore enslaved to do their master's bidding to serve at the wizard's feet.

That, the story proclaimed, is how the Goblin came to look as he does to this day for the spell set upon them by the Black Witch has never been broken even though they have paid vast sums to wizards for them to try.

Hermione was startled awake at the sound of the door to their common room opening as Neville made his way in with Luna in tow. She had been dreaming of the Black Witch, watching her cast her curse on the Goblins. She watched them shrink from normal people to the unpleasant creatures they are now. It was remarkable how she had been completely drawn into the tale.

She looked up at the clock and realized she had missed dinner and was now after 8:30. She should have returned his essay hours ago.

She threw herself off the couch, scanned his paper quickly to make sure she had covered everything then dashed to the lavatory to splash some water on her face then out the entrance she went, making her way to the Slytherin hall.

When she arrived she made her way into the Slytherin common room like she owned the place. Being Head Girl she had all the passwords for all the dorms and for most all the students now it wasn't unusual to see her coming and going from just about anywhere, except the third floor. That floor still gave her the creeps for some reason. She let Neville handle that floor.

Looking around she spotted Draco's toe-head sitting close to the fire bent over an advanced potions problem they had been given that day.

Professor Slughorn liked to give them problems and puzzles that involved missing components or steps to what he liked to call the 3-P's or Proper Potion Preparation.

It was extremely difficult and often maddening to solve because some of the examples he used were long-forgotten potion recipes that languished only in the deep dark recesses of the library's dusty archives of forgotten cures, remedies, elixirs and draughts that no-one cared about or used any longer.

Like who the hell needs a potion to prevent permanent pink pastel paint from peeling off pregnant pot-bellied pigs? How's that for your three P's you barmy old codger!

If she didn't graduate soon she was going to loose her mind, she just knew it.

She was certain their illustrious Potions Professor was slowly loosing his. Perhaps he was sampling too many of his own creations and it was finally catching up with him. All she knew was that the word insufferable came up quite often when discussing Professor Slughorn these days.

When Draco saw her he looked up bleary-eyed and cracked her a wry grin.

“I figured you just decided to shelve it for another day.”

“No,” Hermione said as she plopped down next to him on the couch yawning widely. The fire felt good, “I fell asleep while going through it actually.”

“That boring I suppose.” Draco looked down and began picking at the frayed edge of the leather seat cushion he was sitting on.

“Actually no,” She smiled, “Quite the contrary really. I got completely drawn into the tale about the Black Witch. I even had a dream about her.”

Draco smiled a little then.

“So how bad is it?” He asked.

“Not bad at all, really,” she said honestly, “With the exception of some of your basic grammatical errors and such it's really quite good. In fact, I would go so far to say it's quite compelling and very interesting. I wouldn't change a thing.”

Draco looked at her like she had just slapped him. His eyebrows had all but disappeared and his face was slowly taking on the color of a ripe tomato.

“Why do you look so surprised,” She asked chuckling, “You've always been a better than average student as far as I can remember so why the complete look of disbelief?”

He simply shrugged.

“I don't know. I guess I never expected an assessment like that to come from you about something I created, that's all.”

“Would it make your feel better if I lie and tell you it's rubbish?” She asked jokingly, “You can get a second opinion if you like or how about we just toss it in the fire and be done with it,” she grabbed his essay and acted like she was going to throw it in the fireplace.

He practically leapt out of his shoes to grab it.

“No!” He urged, “Please!”

Hermione drew back smirking, then handed him his paper.

“Then stop being so insecure,” she said standing then, “You know it's really not natural for you to be this way. It's very disconcerting at times because I can't decide weather it's really you or you're just acting.”

“I don't know Hermione,” he responded leaning back on the couch, “I think I would make a terrible actor.”

“Why's that Draco?” she asked turning the corner to head for the entrance.

“I'm not sure I'd be able to remember all the stupid lines.” He held up his essay not looking up from his homework, “Thanks for this.”

“Any time Draco,” Hermione smiled, “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he said, “Give my regards to the Black Witch won't you,” he chuckled.

She laughed. As she exited the Slytherin common room she could have sworn she caught a glimpse of Pansy Parkington watching her from the shadows on the other side of the room. To say the girl had a dangerously dark look in her eye would have been quite an understatement.

Hermione thought she might have to ask Draco about Pansy after all. The Head Girl had enough enemies at present, she didn't need to be dodging hexes from a jealous ex-girlfriend as well.

The following day after her rounds and completing her work she sat again in the Head Common room and penned a letter explaining her dilemma about the wand problem of her friend to old man Ollivander hoping he could shed some light on the situation.

Spending time in the library doing research on something like that, even though it was what she lived for most of the time, didn't fit into her overstuffed schedule. Just finding time to eat, go to the loo and take a shower was taxing in the extreme.

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38. 38 - Life Goes On

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 38 - Life Goes On

Draco Malfoy tentatively stepped into the Great Hall on a cold but sunny Thursday afternoon after his last class of the day. The place had been transformed into what looked like a Muggle gymnasium of sorts. The floor was covered in what appeared to be soft but very springy mats.

He watched as Penelope Clearwater sparred with Justin Finch-Fletchley. When Justin caught her with a knock-back jinx Penelope just bounced off the floor right back to her feet.

“Good one Justin,” she said chuckling and they went right back to practicing.

All around them were students of all ages and the whole place was filled with the sounds of people having fun. There were smiles and laughter…people poking fun and cajoling one-another.

In the center of the large space was the vary same dueling platform he recalled using once before when Professor Snape had chosen him to square off against Harry Potter in Professor Lockhart's lame attempt at creating the very same club.

No-one could take the barmy fraud serious enough to think his idea of a Dueling Club was nothing but a joke so, in the end, not a single student had signed up.

This time, as he watched hundreds of students practicing and sparing with one-another in groups all over the place he realized Hermione had indeed been right about one thing… The new D.A.D.A. Professor seemed to know what he was doing.

He had heard some of the other Slytherin students talking about it and seemed to think this new Dueling Club was a lot of fun but even with this knowledge he was still a bit hesitant to try.

As he tentatively made his way toward where Professor Dervish was working with a group of second and third year Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's he spotted many faces he recognized. There were so many.

Professor Dervish spied Draco, who was a bit taller than most of the other students, and pinned him with a glowing smile.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Dervish grinned in his usual jovial way, “are we interested in trying our hand at the new and improved Dueling Club young man?”

“Erm…I suppose so,” Draco muttered feeling almost embarrassed to be singled out but as he looked at the Dark Arts Professor's friendly smile he remembered his conversation with Hermione in the library and what she had said that night months ago outside the Slytherin dorm.

Life was changing, at least life in the Wizarding world. Gone now, was that ever-present sense of fear that seemed to grip him every day during the year before. He suddenly came to the realization that maybe if he just allowed himself to change with it…to see things from a different perspective…maybe his future wouldn't have to be so dark and gloomy.

Draco offered the energetic Professor a rather genuine smile.

“Yes Professor,” Draco reiterated, “I would very much like the opportunity to compete in the club, that is, if I'm not too late to join?”

“Of course not young man,” Professor Dervish beamed, “Never too late to get started! All are welcome!”

Draco made certain to let the Professor know he was using his mother's wand and explained (without going into details) his own wand wasn't available to him.

“I see,” the Professor said looking a bit concerned for a moment then his face lit up with a thought, “Well…well, not to worry young man. What say we start out a bit slowly and see how you fair, agreed?”

“Yes sir,” Draco smile, “That would be helpful, thank you.”

Professor Dervish turned to a small group that was working with Professor Sinistra and selected a rather tiny second-year Ravenclaw girl.

“My dear Ms. Thistlehorn would you be so gracious as to assist me for a moment?”

“Sure Professor,” the young girl replied.

Professor Dervish quickly explained Draco's dilema to the young girl and she readily agreed to help.

When they squared off and began dueling in earnest Draco found that this young Ravenclaw was no push-over and he had to be on top of his game.

The young Celest Thistlehorn seemed to know her stuff and she threw some fairly nasty little hexes and jinxes at him but during that sparring session he discovered what he needed to know…His mother's wand worked quite well for him so he decided to enter into the competition.

No-one realized just how well Draco would fair as the days went on…

---@>---

Hermione found herself ensconced in the depths of the Hogwarts library once again as she struggled to complete her own History of Magic essay. She had chosen to write about a detailed historical account of the Elder Wand and its many appearances throughout Wizard history. It was proving to be a daunting task of in-depth research into ancient dusty tomes and moldering texts to find as many occurrences of `death by unbeatable wand' as she could find.

Surrounded by a veritable wall of books her quill flew across the long scroll of parchment that streamed over the stack of texts down the other side and off the end of the table to stretch along the floor. She was heading toward a record twenty-one feet of parchment.

She was struggling to get all her course work caught up because she didn't want anything to interfere with Harry's pending visit. She wanted to spend as much time with him uninterrupted as possible.

She had already had a meeting with the Headmistress, Prefects, portraits, ghosts and suits of armor to let them all know she would be unavailable during that time and they would have to deal with things on their own.

As she concentrated on her essay she completely missed the fact that Pansy Parkington had slipped silently into a chair across from her regarding Hermione with a dark look of utter loathing and anger.

After a few moments with Pansy just sitting there seething the Slytherin girl finally cleared her throat to make her presence known to the completely oblivious Gryffindor Head Girl.

Hermione's head snapped up with a start, her quill scratching a dark line across the page as she flinched back in her chair. She gaped at Pansy's dark features for a moment then glanced back at her paper.

“Oh,” she huffed, “Well isn't that just grand!” She pulled her wand with a slight growl and scourgified her mistake. She looked up a Pansy again, her right eyebrow lifting a little, “Is…there something I can help you with Pansy or do you just like sneaking up on people?”

Hermione watched as Pansy's teeth ground together in a sneer.

“I want to know what you're playing at getting all chummy with Draco.” Pansy asked in a voice that was more like a low snarl.

“Chummy with…” Hermione started to ask but then a dawning realization hit her like a smack to the forehead, “You think Draco and I…” She started laughing and instantly realized it was much too loud for the library.

Sure enough not three seconds later a much-annoyed-looking Madam Pince was standing ramrod straight at the end of her table glaring at both girls with her evil eyes.

`Sssssshhhh!” The old woman spit in a very good impression of Nagini putting her finger to her withered old lips.

“Sorry,” Hermione whispered ducking her head between her shoulders holding up her hand.

Madam Pince strode off leaving a quiet `harrumph' in her wake.

“You're going to get me thrown out of the library,” Hermione whispered, “Do you think we could discuss this some other time? I've got loads of work to do and…”

But before Hermione could finish she watched Pansy's head moving slowly back and forth letting her know she wasn't about to drop the subject.

“Of for the love of…” Hermione huffed irritably slamming one of the books she was referencing closed with a bang, “Fine,” she held out an arm gesturing toward the door that led out into the hall, “after you!”

It was utterly ridiculous to be dealing with this nonsense but Hermione decided the quicker she got this drivel done with the quicker she could get back to work. She followed the slightly taller and slightly broader Pansy out into the hall with arms folded tight across her chest. When they cleared the library door pulling it closed behind them Pansy rounded on Hermione in a blur of movement.

The next thing Hermione realized, she was staring at the tip of Pansy's wand looking at it a bit cross-eyed it was so close to her tiny little nose.

“Answer me Granger,” Pansy grumbled, “I want to know what's going on between you and Draco!”

Hermione frowned, giving the barmy Slytherin girl the most defiant look she could muster, her eyes sliding past the wand to land on Pansy's dark blazing gaze.

“First of all,” Hermione began, not the least bit intimidated by the wand almost poking her in the nose, “there's something you need to realize Mizz Parkington. Whatever is or isn't going on between Draco and myself is none of your business!”

Hermione paused letting that little declaration sink into the girl's thick brain. She could almost see the waves of heat radiating off Pansy's forehead.

“However,” Hermione continued, “I also realize you have feelings for Draco…although I can't imagine why but that's neither her nor there…it is for that reason I am willing to divulge that absolutely nothing untoward is going on between me and Draco Malfoy, hmm-kay! So…if you don't mind…”

Hermione slowly reached out with her right hand and with her index finger pushed Pansy's wand down to where it was pointing at the floor. Pansy's eyes followed her wand as Hermione pushed it away, her face taking on a rather bewildered look of confusion.

Hermione continued…

“In the absence of the stress and pressure Draco has been under from the Death Eaters and Voldemort over the past several years he's discovering that maybe, just maybe he wasn't seeing the big picture. I think he's finally discovering that the Dark Lord was a psychotic idiot and the only reason his minions followed him around like sheep was because of fear…fear that they would end up dead if they didn't do what they were told!”

“Draco's finally realizing that there's much more to life than hate and anger and that forgiveness and compassion aren't just dirty words that have no meaning…get what I'm saying?”

Hermione fell silent still standing defiantly in front of the now confused-looking Slytherin girl. She watched as Pansy's face crumpled into a look of utter grief and misery. Huge crocodile tears fell from both eyes as she wrapped her arms around her middle, head falling as she broke down.

“I…I…love…hi…him,” Pansy choked as she stood there in front of Hermione coming completely apart at the seams.

Great Godric's ghost! Why is this happening to me? When the bloody hell did I become the Mender of Lost Souls or the Fixer of Broken Hearts! UGH!

Hermione had to force herself not to huff and roll her eyes. This was all getting ridiculous.

“Then why don't you just tell him?” Hermione asked.

“I…I've tried but he doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with me any more and I don't know why? I don't know what I've done to upset him so…” her voice trialed off into a fit of weeping sobs.

A few younger students passed by gaping at the blubbering Pansy with open mouths and wide eyes as they made their way into the library.

Hermione just covered her eyes with a hand trying desperately not to be embarrassed by this whole display. Pansy was hurting…badly but Hermione was finding herself hard pressed to muster any sympathy for the girl.

Suddenly Pansy looked up at Hermione as if an idea or thought occurred to her.

“Would…would you talk to Draco for me,” Pansy asked, fingers twisting together nervously as she starred at Hermione with miserable pleading eyes, “Would you tell him…”

Hermione instantly held out both hands to stop that inquiry immediately…

“No and no Pansy,” Hermione stated sternly, “Look, it's nothing personal but I've learned by not only my own mistakes but also witnessing others disasters one should never step between two people at odds with one-another. I'm afraid you're going to have to figure all that out on your own. Besides…my track record in the relationship department is fairly dismal so I'm probably the last one you want to help in that regard.”

Pansy brought her hand up to her mouth to cover a cackle even through her misery and tears.

“Maybe you're right,” Pansy admitted, “I'm just not sure what to do.”

Hermione wasn't sure if she was relieved or insulted by Pansy's response.

“I'm not sure I have an answer for you Pansy but maybe you should just be patient. Who knows…maybe Draco will come around eventually and see how much you love him and care for him. Just be a friend for now and don't push or you just might find you'll push him further away…just a thought.” She shrugged.

“But a good thought,” Pansy nodded looking at her hands, “Sorry for going off on you like that. I just thought…”

“Not to worry,” Hermione smirked cutting across her again, “No hard feelings. I think I understand what you're going through and only time will tell if my ideas are anywhere near correct.”

Hermione straightened up looking pointedly at Pansy.

“But, be that as it may, as the bossy and over-bearing Head Girl I would highly recommend you refrain from sticking your wand where it doesn't belong…please! Otherwise I'll have to put you in detention with Ronald Weasley. He seems to be a permanent fixture in detention this term.”

“Ugh,” Pansy blanched, “I'd rather eat Doxy droppings! Alright, I get the message.”

Pansy still looked quite forlorn but Hermione could see some of the tenseness leaving the girl's shoulders.

“Life isn't going to be the same now, is it?” She asked in almost a whisper, “Everything seems to be changing…”

“And maybe that's not such a bad thing Pansy,” Hermione smiled a bit sadly, “Maybe you should give it a chance. You never know, you just might like it.”

Pansy nodded.

“Now,” Hermione quipped, “May I go back to my essay or are we going to start hurling hexes at one-another just for the sake of historical normality?”

Pansy blushed bright red…

“Oh for the love of…” she huffed glaring at Hermione for a moment then turned and stalked off down the corridor.

Hermione could only watch as Pansy walked away shaking her head chuckling to herself.

Face it Granger! As much as you're loath to admit it even to yourself…You'd be acting the same way if some smarmy little wench was making a move on Harry! Just forget it…you've got work to do!

She pushed her way back into the library where the pile of assignments and essays awaited.

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39. 39 - Coming Home

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 39 - Coming Home

Hermione stood on the astronomy tower looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. From her perch she could see everything. The sun was low on the western horizon just peeking over the hills, what little warmth it provided this time of year receding quickly.

Having just come from her rounds as Head Girl she was still dressed in her Hogwarts uniform from the day and opting for her thicker Hogwarts robes she had wrapped a Gryffindor scarf loosely around her neck and put on her gloves against the biting chill of the late December afternoon. Her ample curly mane fluttered unfettered behind her as she peered out over the tower, hand shielding her eyes against the glare.

There was the Forbidden Forrest covered in a thick blanket of snow, the ancient trees bereft of leaves looking skeletal all covered in frosting. Two young Thestrals were flying in the distance, swooping and diving at each other in lazy circles lost in play.

She could see the Quidditch pitch where she had spent days passed watching Harry and Ron play for their team cheering them on like a loon. It was quiet now, the Hogwarts banners and streamers fluttering softly in the waning golden light.

There was the ever-present Hogwarts Lake, home of the giant squid and the Mer-people. There was the Whomping Willow, gently and lazily (all-be-it deceptively) swaying in the light late afternoon breeze.

There was the Herbology building where they had been taught to repot mandrakes and pull snargaluff pods.

She could see the Shrieking Shack where Harry had found his Godfather but lost Severus Snape, an important ally in the war. She could see the tops of many of the businesses in Hogsmead as well as the Hogwarts Express platform. The latter being the gateway to her dreams…her new life and her friends.

Far off in the distance was the vast and seemingly endless expanse of the Scottish Highlands with its deep valleys and frozen lochs now swathed in the deep purple hues of the late afternoon shadows.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes letting the images burn into her memory so they would last a lifetime. It wouldn't be long and she would be leaving this place - a place of wonderful memories and incredable adventures. Part of her was sad about leaving behind a life she had come to love and cherish even through the darkest times. It was going to be like leaving home…

She leaned her head back, face toward the glow of the setting sun, getting caught up in all the wonderful memories that swirled around her like phantasmal images. It was then she heard the unmistakable sound of apparition just outside the gates with their pillars topped by the squatting winged boars.

A smile slowly spread across her chilled lips…

He's here!

A thrill swept through her unlike anything she had ever felt before. It made her breath catch and her ears tingle. A slight shiver trickled down her spine like a soft touch that had nothing to do with the crisp, cold evening air. Hermione had looked forward to this very moment for weeks.

She opened her eyes and turned to see Harry making his way through the gates of their beloved school. A rather silly and juvenile giggle escaped her. It was so very un-Hermione-like but for the first time in her life - she didn't care. She dashed from the tower and headed for the grand entrance hall as quickly as her feet would carry her. It had been the only time in her life as a witch she wished she had a broom.

Merlin's beard! I must love you so very much to be thinking something like that Potter!

…But she knew it to be true.

With a wave of her wand the large entrance doors of Hogwarts swung inward and standing in the doorway in his Ministry-issued traveling cloak was the love of her life.

In a maddeningly silly display of squealing girlish delight she ran to him and flung herself into his arms. Harry responded by dropping his duffle and catching her, snatching her out of the air like an overgrown snitch.

As Hermione covered his face with kisses he couldn't help but laugh and hold Hermione tightly to him.

“I've. Missed. You. So. Much!” She muttered between smothering kisses.

It was impossible not to feel her love and warmth surrounding him as they stood there in the ancient arched doorway of the institution they had both grown up in. It was such a powerful sensation of pure joy and happiness, the like of which he had never felt before and would never forget.

“I missed you too Hermione,” Harry whispered as he looked deeply into her sparkling brown eyes, “Every single day!”

She squealed with girlish giggles again as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, her long and wonderfully soft, bushy hair billowing around them like a cloud.

Harry was beginning to like that sound very much when he heard a voice behind them coming from the hall.

“Merlin's ghost let the bloke breath Granger!”

When Harry looked through the thick curtain that was Hermione's luscious mane he spotted his best friend in the whole world leaning against the open doorway, arms folded with a knowing smirk on his red-haired mug.

“Ron!” Harry said laughing despite being caught with a very amorous Hermione in his arms.

But the look on Ron's face wasn't angry or surprised or hurt. He seemed content or at least comfortable enough with the two of them not to want to upset the moment.

Hermione slid slowly from his grasp and Harry fell forward to grasp Ron's hand in his.

“It's really good to see you mate!”

They stood looking into one-another's eyes for a moment, then in a gruff but affectionate manner Ron pulled Harry into a bone crushing, all-be-it brief hug, patting one another on the back.

Pulling away and reddening a little at the girlish display they stepped back.

“Likewise,” Ron replied smiling. He glanced at Hermione whose bottom lip began to quiver watching her two most beloved friends reconnect, “Best come on in before the Head Girl starts blubbering like a buffoon. Wouldn't want to ruin her nightmare status,” he added chuckling.

Hermione gave Ron a rather weak slit-eyed glare but it wasn't the moment to conjure her inner bitch. She took both boys' hands and they made their way into the warmth, serenity and safety of Hogwarts.

They spent the rest of the early evening visiting with the old staff he knew. A bit later Ron and Hermione accompanied him to visit the Headmistress and they sat and chatted for a little while. It was good to see her and it was really good to see Albus Dumbledore again, even though it was just his portrait. All the rest of the past Headmasters greeted them with warm welcome and cheers. After things settled they took chairs in front of the Headmistresses desk.

Thoughts of past trips to that very office running amok in their collective memories as the three of them grinned at one-another in their mutual recollections.

“So,” McGonagall asked, sitting up in her usual prim and rigid manner behind the large desk with Dumbledore, eyes twinkling down at them from above, “How do you like your training Mr. Potter?”

“It's…” Harry paused for a moment searching his mind for the right word, “challenging Headmistress.”

“I should expect so,” the old Transfiguration Professor smiled, “however, from the little information available to me I've heard you're doing quite well.”

“Not the least bit surprising I must say,” Dumbledore added smiling broadly, “Always knew you had a remarkable aptitude for magical ability and unflinching courage.”

Harry reddened but then looked at his mentor seriously for a moment.

“Thanks Professor,” he said in a hushed tone, “but I would never have succeeded without these two.”

Dumbledore nodded his agreement with a knowing smile, his eyes flashing to Ron and Hermione in turn.

“I couldn't agree more Harry,” he added, as if that settled that.

It was Hermione's turn to blush. Ron just sat back with a smug grin, arms behind his head.

After a few more pleasantries they excused themselves from the Headmistresses office. Harry wanted to go visit Hagrid so they made their way out on the grounds, trudging through the knee-deep snow to his hut.

Fang, Hagrid's ever-present boar-hound greeted them with his usual slobbering love while Hagrid doted over Harry with teary-eyed warmth and affection with declarations like, “'E were jus' a tiny `lil thing ba' then,” and “Scooped `em `ou `o th' wreckage o' the Wright place wit' one hand I did,” and “…never so proud of anyone in me life `erry.”

They reminisced about Hagrid giving Dudley his pig tail the night he came to take him off to Hogwarts. They laughed and cried and when all was said they finally bid Hagrid a reluctant good evening and made their way back to the castle.

Harry had to admit he was about emotionally spent by the time they made their way to the Head dorm common room. They settled in with Harry and Hermione sitting close on the couch and Ron sitting in a chair across from them. Neville, Harry was told, was on his rounds as Head Boy and would probably be gone till well after midnight.

Hermione told him she had let Neville in on the secret of the Marauder's Map and Harry didn't protest. When Hermione recalled how Neville had responded Harry also felt the same pang of guilt.

He stifled his desire to spend some time alone with Hermione. Ron was just as much a part of him as she was but the time they had spent apart made him appreciate her presence all the more…but he would be patient.

Hermione seemed unaffected by Ron's presence and the fact that they seemed to have overcome their differences made it that much easier and much more comfortable.

They talked about unimportant thing for a while, at least Ron and Hermione were doing all the talking. Harry was content to just listen getting caught up on all their acquaintances and going's on around the school.

They told him about the new and improved Dueling Club, about the sad state of Quidditch at which Hermione seemed to simply glaze over. Harry was not all that surprised to hear that Ginny was made captain for which Ron made it clear he thought his sister a `Hag-in-training'. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

They told him about the new Professors and Hermione said she would introduce him to them tomorrow. Ron just had to put his two-knut's worth in about the new Transfiguration Professor…

“She's the most popular teacher in the school mate,” Ron made a gesture carving a svelte and curvaceous female figure down through the air with his hands, “if you get what I'm saying,” His eyebrows wiggling knowingly.

Harry just chuckled as Hermione crossed her arms across her chest with a humph, glaring at Ron.

“Oh give it a rest Ms. High-and-Mighty Spew-letariat,” Ron gruffed, “I'm just having you on because I know you think she's more than just a pretty bum…I mean…err, face.”

Harry laughed.

For some reason Hermione was still a bit reluctant to mention her budding reconciliation with their former Slytherin adversary. She still wasn't quite sure how to categorize the changes in Draco yet so she decided to just keep mum about it. She would probably tell Harry about it eventually but not with Ron around. She knew he would just see it as a Malfoy trick of some kind and she didn't want his opinion to taint what she thought were significant changes in Draco. She wanted Harry to form his own opinions.

“So Harry,” Ron asked smirking, “Why can't you tell us what you've been doing in your mysterious training!”

“He can't Ronald!” Hermione responded agitatedly, “He's under the Fidelius you numbskull! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Is she going to answer your questions for you?” Ron asked with eyebrows raised.

Harry only shrugged his shoulders. He was suddenly feeling a bit rebellious toward Ron for constantly digging at Hermione. It seemed like he was doing it on purpose and it was beginning to grate on his nerves a bit.

“Ugh,” Ron acted like he was choking, “You're hopelessly whipped you know that?”

Hermione's face turned crimson but she turned to Harry.

“Did I tell you in one of my letters that I had to discipline Ron for…”

Before she could get her statement out Ron cut across her.

“I don't think Harry wants to hear about all that.”

“Sure I do!” Harry replied sitting up a bit straighter. “Come on, out with the details.”

“No,” Ron insisted, “You really don't! Your girlfriend's let this whole Head Girl thing completely go to her bushy little head! You know everybody calls her Little Umbridge behind her back?”

Harry looked at Hermione surprised but Hermione only rolled her eyes.

“Ginny told me weeks ago and frankly I don't really care what they call me. Not any more.”

“Look Ron,” Harry chuckled, “I know Hermione. She wouldn't have done something without a reason. Come on…out with it!”

Ron crossed his arms over his chest tightly.

“I refuse to answer on the grounds it may incriminate me,” he groused, “It's against the Weasley Code of Honor.”

“Weasley Code of Honor!”

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. She then threw up a hand as if she were taking a solemn oath,

“Code number one, get my picture taken in the Daily Prophet making a proper fool of myself!”

“Code number two,” Harry joined in howling, “Crash into a tree coming to my brother's funeral dead pissed out of my mind!”

Harry and Hermione were both laughing so hard they could barely speak.

“Hardy bloody har,” Ron growled, “Like having fun at my expense?”

“You started it,” Hermione said, gasping for breath.

“How do you figure that, Deloris Junior?”

“You said Harry was whipped,” she replied her nose in the air. She then quite seriously told him about Ron's incessant flirtations and how she ended up applying the Atomic Wedgy to get her point across.

When she was finished Harry was rolling on the floor laughing so hard his face was turning blue gasping for air, Hermione stuck her tongue out at a bright crimson-faced Ron.”

“You're completely insufferable!” Ron said angrily.

Harry managed to pull himself back onto his chair but he was still laughing.

“Hello completely insufferable,” he stuck out a hand to Hermione, “I'm hopelessly whipped, pleasure to meet you!” He started howling again and Hermione joined in.

“Oh, I've had about all the fun and frivolity I can stand for one night,” Ron huffed as he got to his feet and stormed out of the Head common room.

Harry and Hermione continued to laugh for a bit when Harry leaned forward and kissed her softly.

“I thought he'd never leave.”

“Harry!” Hermione said with affected surprise, “That's not very nice of you. He may be as daft as a bowtruckle sometimes but he's still your best mate.”

Harry frowned slightly.

“Oh don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing.”

Hermione looked at him grinning slyly as she pulled him out of his chair,

“I refuse to answer on the grounds it may incriminate me,” then she held up her hand again, “Granger Code of Honor.”

Harry laughed again as she towed him toward her bed chamber. Her whole body was tingling with anticipation and desire as she pulled Harry over the threshold and closed the door behind them. With a wave of her wand plucked deftly from the folds of her robes she installed an industrial strength silencing ward. She was going to enjoy this and wasn't about to hold back for anything.

After that she tossed her wand carelessly over her shoulder and pushed Harry roughly against the door and kissed him with wild abandon.

At first she was a bit shocked at her own behavior but just as quickly brushed all thoughts aside as a low, soft moan escaped Harry's throat. Their tongues swirling together in a soft slow kiss that made the air around them heat up.

Harry was now well acquainted with this girl's intense desire for him but it wasn't something he would ever take for granted. It was the one thing he came to cherish above all others.

He was still a bit amazed that he had never realized the raw passion that resided in her. She had done a very good job of keeping it all locked away but now, in the dim candle-lit space that was Hermione's he let himself be consumed by it willingly.

He reached for her and she pressed herself into him as if she couldn't get close enough, their intense kiss changing into a desperate need to feel one-another.

Harry slid his hands between them and with deft fingers began unfastening her heavy winter cloak. It fell to the floor as Hermione smiled into his lips. With that she broke the kiss and put a bit of space between them, Harry suddenly feeling cold and empty but the feeling didn't last long.

As he watched, Hermione began undressing, standing right in front of him. The sultry look in her eye, with her cute little bottom lip caught gently and seductively between her teeth almost made him burst into flames.

She took her time, as if torturing him into anticipating the amazingly sensual female body beneath, giving a peak here and there until, at last, she let her grey, pleated skirt fall from her slender fingers.

Harry leaned against the door taking her all in, letting the vision of her burn into his mind so he could keep it forever.

She was wearing the sexiest knickers he had ever seen. The silk and lace dainties were as white as the snow that covered the world outside their chamber. It enhanced the residual tan she still possessed from their trip. The bra barely covered her wonderful breasts and in her present state of heightened desire, her nipples pushed hard against the thin fabric as if begging him for attention.

But it was the panties that almost did him in. It was a similar cut of the incredibly sexy swim suit he had bought for her before they left for the island. The thin straps curved up and around her slender hips and the small triangle of sheer fabric that covered her front showed the dark vee-shape of the soft fur that pointed below to what Harry now knew was his own personal paradise.

She slowly sauntered forward, her deep honey golden eyes never leaving his. He reached for her but she playfully swatted his hands away shaking her head slowly with that maddeningly sensual smirk.

She began undressing him, one piece of clothing at a time. It was killing him to stand there and let her have her way but he was trying to be patient. When she had finally made her way down to his boxers, he was about to pass out from longing and need.

With her soft hand she caressed his swollen groin. An animal-like sound escaped from his throat as she pressed her other hand flat to the hard planes of his abdomen and let it slide down underneath the waistband.

Her warm soft finger encircled his swelling member as Harry closed his eyes and marveled at the sensations. Hermione stroked him softly as she leaned in and took his mouth with hers.

“We've got a lot of time to make up for Harry,” she whispered in a smoldering breathy voice, “I do hope you've been saving up for me.”

All Harry could do was nod.

“Mmm,” she purred as she increased her pressure on his manhood and stroked a bit faster, “that's marvelous!”

Harry could take no more. In a quick move that caught his sexy little witch completely off guard, he gripped her by the upper arms and pushed her quickly to the bed behind them. With a heave and a squeal of delighted surprise from her wide eyed face he lifted her up and pushed her back on the soft mattress and thick comforter.

He disposed of his boxers then hooked his fingers into the thin straps of her sexy panties and off they came. He was on her in seconds, devouring every inch of skin he could get his hands and lips and tongue on.

“Oh…oh Merlin…yes!” Hermione hissed. She was squirming beneath him.

She arched her back just enough to reach the clasp of her lacy bra and with a flick and swish it was gone.

Harry took one of her swollen nipples in his mouth and swirled his tongue over the sensitive peak. She mewled and moaned so seductively Harry thought he was going to explode right then and there. He would have been really upset with himself so he decided he could not wait a moment longer.

The next few moments had Harry trailing a smoldering line of saliva all the way to her hot wet valley. He pushed his tongue as deep inside her body as he could tasting everything that was her.

Her moans came from deep within her throat as her hips bucked gently against his chin trying to get as much of Harry inside her as she could. As his tongue flicked across her bundle of nerves she cried out reaching down weaving her fingers into his unruly hair closing them into fists to hold him captive against her mound.

Her orgasm hit her like a speeding Knight Bus. Her back arched as she screamed, lurching off the bed. Harry held on riding his lovely witch as she came completely undone. When the final surge of pleasure washed over her in a whole-body shudder she collapsed and lay boneless, gasping for breath.

“My - Goodness - Harry!” she gasped.

“Did you like that love?” he asked, pulling himself up to lie beside her overheated, sweaty and shaking body.

“Erm…no, actually,” she said with a sarcastic smirk, “Hated it. Don't ever do that to me again, mmm kay?”

“Whatever you say sweetheart,” he replied, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“You realize of course,” she grinned evilly, “As soon as I regain the use of my arms and legs I'm going to kick your arse, then I'm going to ride you like your bucking Firebolt…you know, the day Quirrell tried to kill you…just so you know.”

He laughed loudly falling back on the pillows.

“Yah, and you thought it was Snape so you set him on fire!” He started laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach.

“That does it,” Hermione said lurching up and crawling on top of him. She pinned his arms to the mattress, “you're going down Potter!”

“Been there…done that!” He quipped, trying desperately to breathe.

When she grabbed a hand full of Ickle Harrykins his laughter died in his throat with a gurgle. Hermione leaned forward just enough to guide him to her center then she dropped on him with such a sexy sigh Harry thought he would die right there. Her warm tightness surrounded him sending shivers of pleasure all over.

Slowly she began rocking back and forth at first, then she started to rotate her slender hips in small circles as she slid up and down on him.

“Oh Her…Hermione,” Harry gurgled, “Whatever you're doing love please don't stop!”

“Am I setting you on fire Harry?” she whispered heinously.

“Gods yes!”

After a few more moments of that sweet torture she started riding him like a woman possessed. Throwing her head back she slammed her pert bottom down hard on him as she climaxed again, this time bringing Harry with her.

Lather - Rinse - Repeat…

Two hours later, while they lie wrapped in each other's arms the day finally landed on Harry's head like a comic anvil but he felt happy, sated and calm for the first time in months. Hermione had her head resting in the crook of his arm just as she had done when they were in Tahiti.

“I know that wasn't very romantic Harry but I needed you terribly. I told myself I never wanted it to be just a shag for you and I but I was a bit desperate to have you.”

“It won't ever be just a shag between us Hermione. I love you too much for things to ever be that simple.”

She smiled through the sleepy haze that had settled on them both there in the darkness of her bed chamber.

“I love you too, with all my heart.” She burrowed deeper in his arms pressing every inch of her she could get next to him and fell into a blissful dreamless sleep.

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40. 40 - Cho's Revenge

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 40 - Cho's Revenge

The next day it seemed the whole school was in a buzz - Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts…and the word spread like Fiendfyre.

…And, as it happened it would be Gryffindor against Ravenclaw on the Quidditch pitch that afternoon.

The Gryffindor team was excited Harry would be there to watch. Ginny was nervous but Ron strutted like a rooster the whole morning proclaiming victory to whoever was within earshot.

He had tried to talk Harry into playing but Headmistress McGonagall made it clear while she wouldn't exactly forbid it she felt it would be a bit unsportsmanlike and would be quite unfair to the Ravenclaws. The Head Girl agreed vehemently with the Headmistress. Ron just called her a shameless suck-up again.

The weather had taken a turn. The temperature dropped and snow was falling but at least it wasn't blizzard-like. For Quidditch, the weather was quite temperate if one looked back on the conditions of some of their past matches.

As the entire school made their way toward the pitch, Harry, Hermione and Ron walked together as they had so many times before but this time it was only Ron dressed in his gear with his Clean Sweep thrown over his shoulder.

Part of Harry was a little sad he would be nothing more than a spectator this time and his eyebrows pinched at the thought. He wasn't sure how he would manage it.

Hermione, in her usual I-know-what-you're-thinking-you-can't-fool-me way patted Harry's hand she was holding giving him a wry grin. She leaned close and kissed his cheek softly, then whispered…

“Don't even think about it Potter.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. He wasn't going to make a fuss. Even though he longed to be out on the pitch mixing it up with the others, he felt part of him had grown passed that. It was that realization more than anything that saddened him.

But Hermione knew, if Harry had pressed the issue and asked to play she would have let him with only mild complaint because after all, there was a time when Quidditch and flying was what Harry had lived for. He was damned good at it and she had to admit, seeing him in all his gear and looking so…so…Oh My!

She had to get her mind off that quickly otherwise she would be petitioning for him to play!

As they watched excited younger students flash by them in an attempt to get the best seats Harry heard a rather familiar voice coming from near the dressing area where the teams gathered before and after each match.

“Well now,” Oliver Wood said beaming, “Isn't this a pleasant surprise.”

“Oliver!” Harry said beaming with surprise and rushing forward to clasp hands with his old team Captain, “What are you doing here?”

After Oliver told him he was now Flying Instructor and Quidditch Ref. Harry shot Ron and Hermione a questioning look.

“Sorry mate,” Ron said shrugging his shoulder, “forgot to mention it.”

They chatted Oliver up for a bit getting caught up on what he had been up to. They discovered he decided to leave professional Quidditch after suffering what he said were `too many bloody concussions and way too many broken bones.'

After Oliver went on toward the pitch they saw Ginny making her way toward them with the rest of the team in tow. Harry could see Dean Thomas, Cormac McLaggen, Michael Corner and a couple 6th year Gryffindores he never really knew all that well.

“Bet it feels strange not suiting up to play doesn't it Harry?” Ginny said looking just a bit sad.

“Yah,” Harry replied a bit glumly but he brightened instantly, “Congratulations on making Captain, by the way. That's brilliant, but I can't say I'm surprised!”

Hermione couldn't help but glare at Ginny slightly feeling a bit territorial for some reason. It was very much unlike her.

Ginny wasn't going to be intimidated by the Head Girl one bit. She beamed at Harry.

“Thanks,” she said leaning forward to kiss Harry on the cheek and patted him on the shoulder. She gave Hermione a look that seemed to say, `Go ahead! Say something snarky - I dare you!' but Hermione held her tongue and kept her expression as even as possible.

Ginny looked at the others over the shoulder, “Well, come on you lot. We've got strategy to discuss before the match starts, chop chop!”

Ron mouthed the words, `She's a bloody tyrant!' as he fell in behind his sister.

Harry and Hermione turned to make their way to the stands when they came face to face with Cho Chang and the Ravenclaw team. Harry had to admit it was a rather rag-tag looking bunch but couldn't help notice Cho was not only a bit taller than he remembered but she was now drop dead gorgeous! He felt Hermione's grip on his fingers tighten slightly at the sight of the Ravenclaw team Captain.

Hermione's Possessive Head Girl Bitch seemed to shift into overdrive! It was all very disconcerting and completely unnecessary.

“Hello Harry,” she said in her sweet voice smiling, “It's good to see you again.” She seemed to be completely ignoring the fact that Hermione was standing right next to him, hands locked together. Hermione was desperately trying to keep her expression completely neutral but wasn't sure she was successful.

Oh…For Merlin's sake Granger - You and Harry were shagging like fuzzy little bunnies in your room last night! What's with all the pointless insecurity?

The truth was, all one had to do was look at Cho to answer that question. Empty-headed though the bimbo may be - the bee-yotch was H- O -T!

But Harry being Harry just returned her smile and nodded politely.

“It's good to see you too Cho. Good luck out there today.”

And that was that. Hermione seemed to let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding as they made their way in to find seats.

They ran into Neville and Luna, with Luna sporting her silly but lovable Lion's head hat. It roared loudly at them when they approached. They chatted for a bit when a thought struck Harry completely out of the blue.

“Luna,” he asked, “I'm just curious. Seeing as you're in Ravenclaw, I've always wondered why you cheer for Gryffindor. I mean, don't get me wrong, we appreciate it but I've just always wondered, that's all.”

Luna gave Harry a rather queer look then answered, “It's because all my friends are Gryffindors silly.” Neville just shrugged looking clueless. With that they moved on to find seats.

Harry stood blinking at her response but as her words sunk in he realized she was right. He remembered the ceiling in her bedroom at her father's house. He smiled shaking his head as he shared a knowing glance with Hermione. She was remembering as well.

After finding seats sitting with Hagrid while his giant half-brother Grawp looked on over their shoulders they settled in to watch the match.

The Ravenclaws were first to take the pitch, the packed crowd cheering wildly as they flew their parade lap before taking up their positions. When the Gryffindors took to the air the arena went crazy. It seemed everyone was there.

Many began chanting “Weasley is our king!” as they made their way around the pitch.

Harry couldn't help but laugh and join in.

Some things never change…

They watched as Oliver Wood walked in to the center of the ring to some rather loud (and mostly female) cheers and cat calls of his own. He put the old and battered looking trunk on the sand and flipped open the lid. After going over the rules he released the bludgers. They shot almost straight up then began circling around the perimeter of the pitch.

He then released the golden snitch and much to everyone's shock and surprise the snitch zipped right at Harry Potter's nose stopping just short of smacking him in the face. It hovered there for just a brief moment as Harry starred at it with eyes almost crossed looking totally bewildered at the little golden winged orb's odd behavior. Then, in a blink it zipped off out over the pitch.

Harry looked at Hermione like he was confunded but she just smiled and chuckled at him.

“Harry, no-one has caught that snitch more than you have over the past few years. It's probably wondering why you're sitting in the stands!”

He gave his amazing girl a beaming, blushing grin. He marveled at her cleaver little mind.

With that, Oliver tossed the quaffel into the air and the match began…

Ravenclaw struck first with the chasers using an effective razzle-dazzle maneuver that had Ron tied up in knots on the lower ring.

After Ron managed to stop two more attempts at the Gryffindor goals Dean Thomas finally scored after a brilliant pre-planned play that had the Chaser, Jack Sloper screaming up the right side of the pitch. About to get pinched between the two Ravenclaw Chasers and one of the bludgers Jack flipped the quaffel straight up into the hands of a diving Ginny Weasley who seemed to come out of nowhere.

Ginny dove to the very bottom of the pitch in front of Ravenclaw's goals. As Dean came screaming up the middle of the pitch Ginny simply tossed the quaffel up into the waiting hands of Dean who then tossed it through the middle ring as Jack headed straight for the Ravenclaw Keeper as if he was going to collide with him but stopped just as the quaffel sailed through.

It was a great play and Harry found himself completely lost in the match. On and on the game went, both sides very evenly matched. Ron was doing a great job of stopping shot after shot but the young Ravenclaw Keeper was just as determined. It was a low scoring game.

In a great move by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, she faked a charging Cormac McLaggen with a daring side roll and he slammed right into the pole that held the top ring on the Ravenclaw side with a sickening crunch. The entire crowd seemed to say “Ooh,” all at the same time. The lummox fell to the floor of the arena in a pile of arms and legs.

A few older students rushed out to roll him onto a stretcher and carted him off while he protested he was ok but his right arm seemed to be hanging a bit limply.

It began to snow even harder and the wind seemed to pick up slightly. Hermione found herself moving closer to Harry to keep warm.

Now with Gryffindor a Beater short, the Ravenclaws picked up the pace at the shouted commands from Cho. It was at that moment Harry caught Ginny out of the corner of his eye on the far side of the pitch. Although he couldn't see it he knew instantly she had caught sight of the snitch. The heavy snow made it difficult to see much of anything beyond the center of the arena.

She was off like a shot and in the next second Cho Chang was right in her slip stream.

Harry couldn't help but marvel at the speeds and how they looked from where they were sitting.

Merlin, no wonder why Hermione never really liked us playing!”

But he also remembered she had showed up for every game even though…The memory made him smile and lean over to give her a kiss on her forehead.

She just beamed up at Harry smiling. She knew him well enough to know he was reminiscing about old times.

It was all he could do to keep up with the two Seakers as they screamed across the pitch. The snitch seemed to dive and twist as the two girls stayed right behind it. With an impossibly tight turn the snitch headed straight for the stands near the announcer and just before it hit shot to the left.

Neither Cho nor Ginny even tried to stop or turn. Both girls just covered their heads with their arms and blasted right through the lower part of the stands as wood splintered everywhere in their wake.

The whole place went crazy as the girls came out the other side whipping the house banners out of the way as they continued their relentless pursuit of the snitch.

The snitch arched back around behind the Gryffindor goals and zipped across the middle of the pitch right at eye level of the spectators. As Ginny and Cho came around in its wake Ginny turned on the speed. By the time the two girls made the middle of the pitch they both looked like blurs with Ginny just a few feet in front of Cho.

Hermione was now on her feet. She was watching Ginny streaking across the pitch.

“Go Ginny Go,” she hollered as she turned and tugged on Harry's sleeve pulling to his feet beside her. As Ginny got closer to the snitch Hermione began jumping up and down screaming at the top of her lungs…

“GO GINNY…DON'T LET HER GET THE SNITCH…GO - GO GRYFFINDOR!

Harry could only laugh and cheer right along with her.

As Ginny began to reach out Cho Chang did something completely unexpected.

In a burst of acceleration Cho pulled up just above Ginny as if she was going to try and fly right over the top of the Gryffindor Seaker's head.

Ginny, falling for the feint, climbed to try and block but in the last second, Cho rolled over to her left and flying completely upside-down just under Ginny shot forward with an impressive display of speed and control. She was on the snitch before Ginny could adjust.

Just before she was about to slam into the post of the upper-most ring of the Ravenclaw goal Cho folded herself into a ball and plowed right into it. Her broom slammed the metal pole exploding into a thousand splintered pieces.

Everyone in the arena was now on their feet. The whole place went as silent as a tomb.

Cho, along with the remains of her shattered broom fell to the pitch floor in a pile. For a moment everyone seemed to hold their breath as they watched the Ravenclaw Seaker lying there unmoving for a few heartbeats.

Oliver Wood, along with her team-mates and many of the Gryffindor players, shot toward where Cho lay as they saw Madam Pomfrey making her way quickly from the stands toward the pitch floor.

Suddenly, with what appeared to be monumental effort, Cho got unsteadily to her feet just as Oliver reached her. In a grinning display of pride that Harry remembered all too well, Cho raised a battered hand to the sky and in it was the glittering golden metal ball of the snitch pinched between two fingers and her thumb.

“Ravenclaw wins!” Oliver shouted and his voice echoed around the mostly silent arena.

The entire arena went absolutely insane. Even Hermione was clapping at the amazing feat of the Ravenclaw Seaker.

“Bloody impressive,” Hermione laughed, “I've got to admit!”

Harry couldn't help but agree completely.

In a show of good sportsmanship all the players flew down to congratulate Cho on her amazing catch.

She wobbled a bit, quite unsteady on her feet so a few of her teammates carried her off the pitch after the Hogwarts Healer gave them a nod. They made their way back toward Hogwarts.

Ginny, even though she had reluctantly congratulated Cho along with the rest, did not look happy. She mounted her broom and streaked off toward the changing rooms without a backward glance.

Harry knew the fiery red head was probably angry at herself for falling for Cho's tactic but he also knew there would be no consoling her. When Ginny got it in her mind to be angry you didn't try to comfort her…you just left her alone.

“Well,” Hagrid said as he got to his feet, “I've got ter' admit tha' were one o' the bes' games I've seen in a while,” then he glanced at Harry, “err, no' takin' anythin' away from wha' you did `erry but ya' gotter admit…”

“I agree a hundred per-cent Hagrid,” Harry smiled, “That was incredible!”

“A bit different when you see things from this point of view,” Hermione grinned taking his arm, “isn't it Harry?”

“Yah,” he laughed, then remembered something Fred and George had said just before his first ever Quidditch match, “Rough game Quidditch!”

Later that evening sitting at dinner in the Great Hall the entire student body was in a buzz over the exciting match earlier that day. Everyone seemed to be talking about it.

To Harry, he was thankful the match was so thrilling because it seemed to take the attention off him for now.

He and Hermione sat with Ron, Ginny, Dean, Neville, Seamus, and a few other Gryffindors as they replayed the match over in minute detail. Harry could tell both Ginny and Ron had already heard enough about it and seemed to be intent on changing the subject to just about anything else when Michael Corner, nose buried in the latest edition of the Prophet looked up with eyes wide.

“Say!” He said excitedly, interrupting the casual conversations around him, “The Ministry's just issued a hundred thousand galleon reward to whoever finds the missing wizard bonds! The Prophet says the Undersecretary held a press conference today to announce the details!”

“Let me see that,” Ron immediately snatched the wizard paper from the younger boy's grasp, his protest falling on deaf ears. He started to peruse the article but Hermione glared at him dangerously.

“How rude!” she spit.

She reached across the table and snatched the paper right back from Ron, handing it back to a sneering Michael.

“Hey!” Ron growled but the look on Hermione's face was enough to make him blush slightly and drop his complaint.

Michael proceeded to read the entire article and the topic then shifted to where the bonds might be hidden, each suggestion more unlikely than the previous.

Hermione was still a bit distracted by her knowledge of the new Prophecy. Her conscience was at war with her common sense and neither was budging an inch.

She glanced at Harry who sat quietly eating his food not really partaking in the conversation but seemed content to just listen and take it all in.

After she had reluctantly told Ron about it he had done nothing more than gape at her stupidly before rolling his eyes saying, “Merlin's bullocks…not again! He had mumbling something about `stupid nutter, sherry-sodden, Divinations Professors,' as he was making his way to the boy's dorms that evening after she had spilled the beans.

She had to admit that pretty much summed up her attitude toward Sybill Trelawney at the moment quite nicely…

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41. 41 - Finding The Lost

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 41 - Finding the Lost

Ron sat glumly looking out the window of the Gryffindor common room as the snow fell in earnest blanking out even the Forbidden Forrest from view.

The knowledge that Cho Chang had caught the Golden Snitch right in the middle of the match had basically negated all his work deflecting almost every shot the Ravenclaws had taken at him the day before…and Harry had been there to see the whole thing. It was almost embarrassing. Ginny wasn't so subtle. She had been overheard mumbling, plotting the slow, torturous and painful demise of the Ravenclaw Seeker!

Ron had to admit it had been a brilliant move. Flying a broom in a Quidditch match was hard enough but flying one upside-down at a distance was almost unthinkable but Cho had done it. She had dove under Ginny just as the Gryffindor Seeker was about to grab the snitch and flying upside-down blasted forward with incredible velocity to snatch the snitch right from Ginny's grasp. It was dangerous and risky but she pulled it off. Not without a few broken bones and bruises but the girl did it!

The move had stunned the entire crowd into silence and became the sole topic of discussion for the rest of the day. Everyone was still talking about it and Cho had suddenly become somewhat of a reluctant hero.

It did nothing but grate on Ron's nerves. He was already tired of hearing about it.

As he sat brooding he let the words of the prophecy filter through his thoughts to drown out the events of the day before and it only made his mood darken even further.

The idea that no-one could seem to figure out what it meant was driving him spare. Not even the brilliant Hermione Granger had an answer or at least if she did she wasn't letting on.

He wanted to be the one to figure it out this time. He wanted to be the smart and clever one for once but he just couldn't seem to figure out how all the pieces fit together.

Evil stirs once more in darkness…

`Obvious! That has to be about Voldemort…who else?'

…Born unto the house of the serpent…

`Has to be Voldemort as well…right? Slytherin's heir…or was there another? No, surely not.'

…Ancient's magic within youth disguised…

`Now that makes little sense at all. Could it refer to the ancient magic that protected Harry until his Seventeenth birthday? No idea.'

…Will unchain the dead from restless slumber…

`Again…a bit obvious! Voldemort's come back from the dead before…but how? All the Horcruxes were destroyed…weren't they? Yes…no question. Otherwise old moldy-breath would have just shoved off back to parts unknown again like a billowing cloud of noxious flatulence after a dose of You-No-Poo.'

…To awaken upon the Savior's demise.

`Well anyone with half a brain knows who that's referring to although before it was `one or the other'. This time…'

Ron didn't have to finish that thought.

Nothing like walking round with a bloody target tattooed on your forehead!

The realization that Harry Potter was, once again, in the crosshairs of every remaining Death Eater, malcontent and miscreant in the wizard world made Ron's stomach churn. He forced himself to push those horribly unpleasant thoughts from his mind for the time being.

He instead contemplated the missing Ministry fortune. The reward was simply too great to pass up. One hundred thousand galleons! The reward seemed to capture everyone's attention. Wizards and witches were scouring Greater London looking for the missing Ministry funds but so far no-one had been successful or even had a hint at where they might be stashed.

Percy was convinced they had been maliciously destroyed by Voldemort to make some sort of statement but very few were convinced. Many speculated he would have wanted to keep them to taunt the Ministry and to possibly cash in after he took over in the end.

Even though his book was doing well a payday like that could set him for life. Not only would he be even more famous…he'd be wealthy beyond even his aspirations as well. Completely irresistible to the “Birds” then!

…But where to find them?

As he sat lamenting his ill tempered disposition Seamus came and plopped in a chair opposite his.

“You look as if someone cursed and stuffed Pigwidgeon.” Seamus chuckled.

“Oh cork it would ya!” Ron groused.

Seamus was still smiling.

“I know it isn't easy to be bested by a bird but hey, you gotta admit she caught the snitch with style!”

Ron's look told Seamus what he could do with the snitch at that particular moment.

“It's not that. I want to find the missing wizard bonds and get that reward Seamus!”

Seamus shrugged, “Wouldn't we all! Any ideas?”

“Not really,” Ron replied, not that he would share them with anyone anyway. He might not be the sharpest ax in the shed but he wasn't completely thick.

“You'd think Voldemort would put something that important in a very safe and secret place but knowing how careless he was with his…” Ron stopped.

He knew very few people knew of or even understood the Horcruxes. Even though he had written about them in his book he knew the concept would be completely lost on blokes like Seamus. No sense in trying to explain it all at present.

“…Personal effects.” Ron finished.

“Where in Merlin's name would one hide millions in wizard bonds?” Seamus said more to himself than Ron, “That's got to be a load of parchment wouldn't you think? It's not like you could fold them up and put them in your pocket now could you?”

That simple statement sparked a memory in Ron's mind. The thought of hiding something made him think of Harry and how he had hidden his most important things under a loose floorboard in his room at Little Winging. He had no idea why he thought of that but the spark ignited a blazing inferno of an idea. He knew it was a long shot but for one hundred thousand galleons it was a shot worth taking.

He jumped out of his chair as if he had been hexed in the seat of his trousers.

Seamus looked up at him with eyebrows raised.

“What's got into you?”

“Just remembered I've got something I need to do,” Ron replied as he made his way quickly to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, “Later Finnegan.”

After scouring the entire school and inquiring to anyone within hearing range he was finally pointed to the last place he expected to find the two lovebirds after being apart for so long. He pushed his way into the library and sure enough found Harry and Hermione sitting off in a secluded corner by themselves.

Hermione had a pile of books in front of her as usual and they seemed to be engrossed in a deep but quiet conversation. Ron walked right up and plopped in a chair across from them without ceremony.

Hermione looked up a bit surprised by his presence.

“Well color me surprised! Ron Weasley in the library, now there's a contradiction. You must be lost, confunded,” Hermione whispered with a smirk, “or following your fan club?”

“Ha ha, Granger,” Ron quipped, “Not even. I came to find you because I have an idea about where Voldemort might have hidden the bonds.”

Both Harry and Hermione's eyebrows all but disappeared as they glanced at one-another.

“Is that right?” Harry asked glancing again at Hermione with a smirk. Ron merely frowned.

“Well…not exactly where they might be but something occurred to me while I was talking to Seamus. It's rather odd I'll admit but it makes sense - sort of.”

“Go on,” Hermione urged.

It was difficult to take much of what Ron said seriously but she was constantly reminded of their conversation on the train. He had changed and she had to admit some of the things he told her had held wisdom and common sense. It seemed to come in small doses with Ron though. Half the time he made no sense at all or just seemed to be self absorbed. She felt he was at least trying so most times she grudgingly tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Ok,” Ron began, “I know this is going to sound a bit far fetched but just let me finish, then you can rip my theory to shreds alright?”

They both nodded in agreement and Ron continued.

Madam Pince appeared at the end of their table with a dark look and put her finger to her wrinkled lips.

“Sorry,” Ron whispered. He waited until the old bat glided off to terrorize a table full of rambunctious second and third-years before he continued.

“We know Harry has - I mean had - a connection to Voldemort's mind right?”

They nodded again.

“And Harry used to keep things hidden from his Aunt, Uncle and Dudley under a loose floorboard in his room yah?”

He looked from one to the other as if what he had said should have been enough to make his point completely clear.

Harry gave Ron a strange look, “Yah…and?” He whispered looking around for Madam Pince again.

“Where did you get the idea to hide things under your bed like that Harry?” Ron asked.

“I don't know,” Harry replied a bit confused as he shrugged his shoulders, “I really can't say for sure. What does that have to do with…”

Hermione's eyes suddenly went wide as she touched Harry lightly on his arm to silence his comment. She instantly made the connection Ron was trying to assimilate.

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” She asked a bit breathless.

“Well what do you think Ms. Better Off Dead Then Expelled!” Ron sneered.

Hermione cast Ron a withering slit-eyed glare but then pretended to ignore him and began biting her bottom lip as she sometimes did when deep in contemplation. Harry cast a rather stony glare of his own at his best mate.

“I don't see what that has to do with where Voldemort hid something. So what if I hid my thing in the floor under my bed. I'm not sure I see what you're getting at.”

Hermione's mind was already working. She had to admit from Harry's reaction Ron just might be on to something. She couldn't believe it was Ron who had made any kind of intrinsic connection at all and the fact she had missed something like that didn't set well with her know-it-all sensibilities.

Hermione recalled Harry keeping a collection of rather odd thinks in the small draw string bag Hagrid had given him during their hunt for the Horcruxes. His pack-rat or magpie-like behavior had to come from somewhere and they had reasonably established that Voldemort seemed to display similar behavior in some ways but on a much grander scale.

If the suggestion to hide things in such a manner had been a subliminal one then Harry might not even be aware of it and could have been nothing more than a residual effect of their connection due to the Horcrux that resided inside Harry's scar.

If that wasn't telling enough Hermione realized there were scant few places left Voldemort could have hidden something like a pile of Wizard bonds. He had been calculating but rather obvious in the selection of his hiding places to those who knew him and knew his habits and history. It was then Harry mentioned something that stopped Hermione's thoughts cold.

“I remember seeing something in Dumbledore's Pensive about Tom Riddle Jr. when he was in the orphanage. He used to steal some of the other children's things and hide them in a box in his wardrobe…”

It was the name that finally made all the connections come together in her brain…Riddle!

“That's it!” Hermione practically shouted as she stood up abruptly. She quickly covered her mouth embarrassed at her own outburst.

It was only seconds and Madam Pince was standing at their table looking deadly, pointing at the exit with a bony crooked finger. As they made their way quickly and quietly as possible out of the library Hermione apologized profusely all the way to the door.

Once in the hallway she rounded on the other two.

“I think I know where the Wizard Bonds might be hidden!” Her eyes were wide and her face flushed with excitement.

Suddenly, as she stood there looking from Harry to Ron grinning like Luna it felt like old times. Things felt like they had years before when the three of them had set off together on adventures to find answers to riddles or to prevent the spread of Voldemort's evil.

Hermione's heart pinched slightly to realize how much she had missed this - how much a part of her life these two boys had become.

Then Ron opened his mouth and completely spoiled the moment…

“Well let's just remember whose idea it was alright?” He gave Hermione a significant look, “That reward's got my name all over it!”

Hermione's smile evaporated instantly along with any possibility of feeling warm and fuzzy.

“Oh Ronald,” she said. She suddenly felt like crying. She clutched her books and turned away from them.

Face it Granger, she thought sadly, You can't move forward and live in the past at the same time. Life just doesn't work that way.

“What?” Ron gawked at her retreating form. He looked at Harry who simply shrugged and fell in behind the girl he loved unconditionally. He knew she would tell him about what had just bothered her later. She always did.

As they made their way along the corridors back toward the Gryffindor common room Ron tried to get Hermione to divulge what she had determined but Harry stopped him with a dark look. Hermione finally broke her silent revelry as they approached the Fat Lady's portrait.

“I'm almost convinced whatever we're looking for is at the Riddle mansion.”

“Riddle mansion?” Ron inquired in disbelief, “That dilapidated old moth-eaten place? Why would Voldemort hide anything there? He hated anything to do with Muggles and the Muggle world. In fact, he hated his Muggle roots so much he murdered his whole family!”

“Exactly,” Harry said slowly as he cast a beaming smile down at Hermione's rather clouded features. He thought the idea had merit or at the very least warranted further consideration. “It would be the last place anyone would suspect him to hide anything.”

Ron waved off the idea as if he were swatting at Nargles.

“Besides, I'm certain the place has been searched from top to bottom. Doesn't the Ministry still have wards around the place from before when that old caretaker was murdered? What was his name?”

“That would be Frank Bryce,” Hermione replied, “and I'm sure I have no idea. I think Harry would know more about that then we would.”

“Me,” Harry asked puzzled.

“Well you've had more contact with members of the Ministry then either one of us through your Auror training, yes?”

“Not really. I'm stuck training in secret remember. I see Kingsley every once in a while but I don't usually get to talk to him. Doesn't want to play favorites I guess.”

Hermione shrugged as Ron blushed slightly.

“I wouldn't say that Hermione,” Ron swallowed, “I live with the Minister and the Undersecretary remember?”

Hermione turned to give him a significant look.

“I'm certain they don't take you into their confidence regarding sensitive matters of the Ministry do they?” She asked.

“Of course not,” Ron said grinning, “but wandering about the Minister's mansion under house arrest you hear things.”

“Well?” Hermione asked doubtful.

“Nothing about the Riddle mansion that I can remember,” Ron replied glumly, “I think I heard Percy mention Albania once as a place they might start looking but that's about all.”

As the three of them stood outside the Gryffindor tower in silent contemplation of Hermione's suggestion the Fat Lady cleared her throat loudly glowering down at them.

“Are you three going in or are you going to stand there like suits of armor all night? I have an engagement I would like to attend if you don't mind.”

“Don't get your girdle in a knot,” Ron groused, “We're going!”

With an irritated harrumph from the Fat Lady Hermione issued the correct password and they filed into the common room. When Hermione settled into her usual spot she noticed the boys did the same.

“I say we go to Little Hangleton first thing tomorrow!” Ron said enthusiastically.

“Erm, I think we've got other plans Ron,” Harry replied looking pointedly at Hermione.

Hermione gave him a beaming smile.

“Yes we do,” she said matter-of-factly turning to Ron, “I told you we were going to spend part of the holiday with my parents. I'm not changing those plans for any reason…”

“But Hermione…” Ron began to protest but Hermione stopped him short with an up-raised hand.

“Not even for the possibility of finding missing Wizard bonds! It will just have to wait besides…” A smug look crossed her visage, “you're not going anywhere.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asked tersely.

“It's very simple Ronald,” she said chuckling, “Ministry Decree 759!”

He leaned forward to argue but then deflated and fell back into his chair.

“Bugger! That barmy decree!” He groused through clenched teeth.

“You brought the whole thing on yourself.” Hermione stated lifting her chin.

Ron's face crumpled in a sneer.

“Listen you,” He pointed, “I've already got a whole family of preachy relatives. I don't need another.”

“Ron.” Harry said sternly tossing a serious look at him. “Look…Why don't you get in touch with your dad and ask him if he'll let you off the hook long enough to go to Little Hangleton. You'll be with us. That should count for something. I'll ask him if you think it would help. We'll go when we get back from Hermione's parents.”

“Will you have time before you have to report back to Kingsley?” Hermione asked.

“Would you mind terribly if we came back just one day early?” Harry asked her as gently as he could. He had to admit the thought of searching for the missing Ministry funds excited him much more than he was willing to admit. “Do you think your folks would be upset with me?”

“No, of course not Harry,” Hermione conceded, “I suppose this is important enough for us to look into and besides you can use this little treasure hunt to practice all those secret skills you've been learning, yes?”

The smile he gave her was so bright, full of life and more than a little of that old Potter mischief. She knew she could not refuse him even if she wanted to and she too was intrigued by the possibility of another one of their crazy adventures. At least they weren't going off horribly unprepared as they did back then. That in itself made her smile.

Age and experience over youth and impetuousness!

Again, she was hit with the strong sense of Déjà vu. Here they were scheming and plotting a course of action just like they had done countless times in the past. The bitter-sweet memories hovered just above their heads like the numerous ghosts that haunted the hallways and shadowy places of their beloved institution. She could not let them close Hogwarts if she had the power to stop it.

“Right,” Ron said, “I'll get in touch with dad first thing tomorrow but I really don't want to tell him why we want to go to Little Hangleton. I'm sure both he and Percy are smart enough to figure it out but if it gets out what we suspect the place will be crawling with treasure hunters. We've got to keep this quiet, know what I mean?”

“Look Ronald,” Hermione stated, “If we do this it won't be because of any reward! We'll do this because finding those funds will save this school and hundreds, maybe thousands of people's jobs!”

“What!” Ron looked as if he'd been slapped, “You mean to tell me you'd pass on a hundred thousand galleons! You must be completely off your nut!”

Ron starred at Harry with an almost pleading look but he knew it was a wasted effort. He knew where Harry's ultimate loyalties lay. As he suspected Harry sat unmoving with arms crossed over his chest. Ron would find no support for his endeavor there.

UGH! He's completely, utterly and hopelessly whipped!

Hermione knew exactly what Ron was trying to do. She knew Harry much better then anyone else. His motives for doing this were pure and along the same lines as hers but he was also in it for the sheer thrill of the adventure. Sometimes she thought he was what Muggles called an adrenaline junkie.

Her eyes went to thin slits.

“Then you're on your own Weasley.”

She got up and crossed to where Harry was sitting. Grabbing his hand she pulled him to his feet and towed him toward the dormitory entrance.

“It's well passed time you think about someone other than yourself Ronald,” she tossed over her shoulder, “It's that way or nothing! Think about it, won't you?”

Arrrrrgg! That bloody self-righteous PRIG!

Ron's thoughts were a roiling stormy tempest as he stomped his way up to his chamber. He wondered darkly if the Ministry Decree prevented him from murdering someone.

…But where to hide the body?

He shoved that thought aside. She would probably just come back as a ghost and terrorize him the rest of his days. That would be a fate far worse than death or expulsion!

I'd rather puke slugs!

Seamus, Dean and Justin were tag-teaming their class assignments as usual while Jack Sloper, having now taken Harry's old place, sat on his bed reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. No-one paid Ron any mind as he threw himself on his own bed in a huff.

The idea they had made a significant breakthrough in the possible whereabouts of the missing Ministry fortune was now paramount in his mind. He wanted that reward. It was planted in his mind now as deeply as the roots of the old Whomping Willow located not far outside their window.

The trick was going to be getting permission without giving away the scoop. He had to make it sound legitimate though or there would be no way his old man would allow it. He would just think it another attempt to see Cassandra.

If he worked through Percy though…

Yah! That just might work. Percy's the best at keeping mum. Maybe he could convince dad if I promised to share some of the glory with him. I'm not sharing the loot but he can have all the credit. That's it! I'll tell Percy he can claim he figured it out but wasn't sure. He sent me to investigate cause I was closer to Little Hangleton and he's got all his Ministry business to attend to…but what about the reward? If he says he figured it out, the galleons will go to him…Nah, that's no good… Bugger!

But he could think of nothing else.

The following morning found Ron down in the Common Room hunched over a piece of parchment with quill in hand scribbling furiously as Ginny came down from the girls side and sat across from him.

She could see the determined concentration on Ron's face as he worked the quill across the page. It was a rare sight seeing her brother so studious and she found herself chuckling.

Ron looked up with eyebrows raised.

“What's so amusing?”

“You,” Ginny replied, grinning, “you're attacking that parchment like it insulted mum! You don't work that hard when classes are in session, let alone during holiday, must be serious! Letter to your ickle treacle tart?” She giggled.

“Letter to your treacle tart,” Ron said in a mocking tone then setting back to work, “Not even you annoying little harpy. It's none of your beeswax.”

“No need to get snippy!” Ginny said folding her arms across her chest in defiance.

“If you must know Ms. Busybody I'm writing Percy,” Ron said without looking up, “I'm asking him if he would ask dad if I could have permission to leave Hogwarts for a day with Harry and Hermione when they get back from her parents.”

“Oh?” Ginny asked sitting up a bit straighter, “and where are you three off to then?”

Ron blanched for a moment. He wanted to thump himself for being so stupid.

Face it Weasley, Hermione's right - You are thick as mud!

He resisted telling her and when he hesitated to answer Ginny's face grew red and crumpled with frustration. She lurched angrily to her feet with hands clenched into tight fists and glared dangerously at her brother.

“You know, I'm getting really tired of being treated like a stupid little girl! It's bad enough I'm the youngest in the family but if you recall…I fought in the war too! `You should stay out of it Ginny you're simply too young!'” she said in a rather fair imitation of her mother's voice, then she spit, `Oh Ginny darling…it's for your own protection,' AAARRG! I'm so sick of being treated like I'm made of BLOODY PORCELAIN!”

He could see tears welling in her angry eyes.

Ron sat back blinking, completely taken aback by his sister's outburst. His first reaction was to get angry but her words had unwittingly penetrated his mind with all the subtlety of an ice cycle through the temple. They had hit rather close to home with him due to the restrictions he now found himself under.

True, he thought it had been his own doing but he found himself unusually sympathetic to his sister's rage. The thought he was subjecting her to the same treatment he himself disliked made him feel a bit guilty but it was the comment she made about Harry setting her aside that seemed to go right to his heart.

He thought maybe she was still a bit bitter about that. He could hardly blame her. Even though it had been her decision to get back with Dean he wondered if Ginny had somehow known she and Harry would never last or maybe she thought it had just been a crush.

If he was so gone on Ginny why did he go running to Hermione?

But he realized that wasn't exactly true - Hermione had, more or less, went running to him - or maybe they simply ran toward each other. It made little difference now though, didn't it?

He then remembered his talk with Hermione in the Gryffindor common room that night she was avoiding Neville and Luna. Maybe Ginny had known it wasn't true love Harry felt for her or maybe it was the other way round. He had to admit it was a bit embarrassing his little sister just might know more about that sort of thing than he did. He couldn't help but respect that.

She's a Gryffindor Prefect and the Captain of the Quidditch team for Merlin's sake, not to mention just about every bloke in this school thinks she's one of the hottest girls alive…and she had survived the war quite on her own!

For the first time Ron saw his younger sibling in a completely new light. She was right…she wasn't a little girl anymore. He then wondered why he was trying to keep anything secret from her.

“It's well passed time you think about someone other than yourself Ronald.”

Does the bloody Know-It-All Nightmare always have to be right? Wingardium Lev-ee-yo-sah!...`Remember…swish and flick!' Ugh!

“You know,” he began looking at his younger sibling seriously for a moment, “you're absolutely right Ginny. You're not the fragile little thing everyone seems to think you are, bat bogies aside and all that. You're a lot tougher and braver than we ever given you credit for. You deserve to be respected for what you did just like everyone else. I'm sorry for making you feel that way.”

Ginny suddenly looked as if she had been throttled by a rogue bludger. She could do no more than gape at Ron as he completely surprised her with his response. The look on his face made Ginny realize he wasn't just placating her or pacifying her anger like he and so many others had done all her life. He was serious.

“Here,” he shifted sideways then patted the sofa next to him, “come sit and I'll tell you everything.”

…and he did.

For the first time in his life he realized something that was more important than his own wants, needs or desires. Perhaps it had always been there simply covered by immaturity and lack of knowledge - Blood is thicker than water…or anything else for that matter!

Many things changed between him and Ginny then. She realized her mostly gormless brother wasn't so shallow after all and he realized that she certainly proved, time and time again she didn't need constant protection and could very well take care of herself.

“So you think the missing Ministry stuff is in the old Riddle house?” Ginny asked, her face flushed with excitement.

“I'm not sure I believe it but if you look at things logically, which is a stretch for me, I know, but humor me…”

Ginny grinned putting her hand on Ron's arm affectionately.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“Anyway, if you think about it,” Ron continued, “we're sort of running out of place to look.”

“Well, logically,” she gaped at Ron smiling, “That makes a lot of sense. I mean, if you think about where Voldemort has been it's about the only place that makes sense.”

“Well let's look at them for a moment,” Ron said seriously, looking up at the ceiling of the common room, “There's Albania…but that wouldn't make sense. He was just a noxious fart cloud then…”

Ginny burst out laughing.

“Well it's true. He wasn't even human at that point.” Ron added, “Then there was the orphanage he grew up in but I'm not certain that place even exists any longer. Then there's the old Gaunt place, Borgin and Burke's where he worked, that's a strong possibility actually, the cave where Harry and Dumbledore found the fake locket, Malfoy manor, but I just don't see him leaving anything there but it's possible I suppose,” he was ticking off the places with his fingers.

“And here,” Ginny added, “That's about the only places you can attribute to His Lordship of Dark Farts!” She cackled.

Ron turned and looked at her pointedly.

“Do you know how I know you're my sister?” He quipped grinning.

Ginny blushed leaning into her brother and letting her head fall on his shoulder.

“Do you think I can go with you when you look?”

“Sure,” Ron smiled, “If I get permission we could use all the sets of eyes we could count on in the search. I just might ask some of the other blokes to help,” he sighed, “I guess that means I'll have to share in the spoils.”

“I don't care about the money,” Ginny said wistfully, “Just sounds like fun to me.”

Ron gave her an affected stare.

“Oh really? A hundred thousand Galleons can buy a lot of Weaselette goodies yah?”

“Oh shut it Ferret Face!” Ginny said laughing, thumping him on his shoulder.

“Speaking of bouncing ferrets what's with Hermione and Draco being all chummy these days?” Ron asked, “Know anything about that?”

“Seems he's changed quite a bit since last year,” Ginny replied, “Word has it he's practically switched sides.”

Ron gave her a significant look.

“What does that mean exactly?”

Ginny shrugged.

“Not certain really, I do know he's undefeated in the new Dueling Club. I think Hermione convinced him to join. She's been helping him since he decided to take the same level classes as she in,” Ginny looked at her brother seriously for a moment, “You don't think she and Draco…?”

Ron's face wrinkled in a sneer.

“Not a chance!” Ron replied, “She just way to gone on the bloody Savior…err sorry.”

Ginny shook her head.

“It's alright Ron,” she said looking at her hands, a dark look passing quickly over her lovely face, “I really did love him I think but I also realized if I didn't lose him to Voldemort then I would eventually lose him to the wizard world. I know how stupid that sounds but I was just a silly little girl then.”

“Ginny,” Ron said seriously looking at his sister in the eyes, “While you might be many things…silly isn't one of them.”

She wrapped her slender arms around her brother's wide shoulders laying her head next to his.

--- @> ---

After Ron sent his letter to Percy via a Hogwarts owl he received a response later that afternoon.

Harry and Hermione had left for her parents and promised to return on that Thursday, a day earlier than planned so they could go to Little Hangleton the next morning.

Percy's response, while sounding a bit suspicious, had informed Ron he would meet him in Hogsmead at the Three Broomsticks after his classes had ended for the day to discuss what Ron had requested. He had made it very clear the Minister would leave it up to Percy to decide if Ron was being forth-coming about his request and would abide by Percy's decision to allow Ronald leave or not.

Well…that's something anyway.

Ron thought it possible to convince his brother this was no ruse to try and get with Cassandra. In fact, he had not heard anything from her since he had returned to Hogwarts. There had been a small article about her and Megan in the Daily Prophet a few weeks before. It had made mention about the two women taking an extended Holiday to the United States due to all the fallout from their much-publicized tryst but he wasn't certain he believed it.

Ron had no idea what that was all about but he didn't expect to see much of his sexy blond bombshell any time soon. He wasn't sure if Percy or his father knew about that but then it also occurred to him they may have had something to do with it. He simply didn't want to know.

When he pushed his way through the door of the old wizard watering hole Madam Rosmerta greeted him with her usual breathtaking smile. Even as old as the woman was she still made him weak in the knees.

“Well, if it isn't one of the Golden Trio,” she grinned. Ron felt his face grow hot all of a sudden.

“Erm…egh,” he stuttered. Ron suddenly felt like he was thirteen years old again under the knowing gaze of this timelessly gorgeous woman.

Rosmerta grinned and gestured toward a table in the rear.

“Percy's already here. Go on back love and I'll bring you a butterbeer.”

Ron nodded thanks not trusting his voice and headed toward his brother sitting quite rigid dressed in his formal Ministry attire, waiting with what seemed to be forced patience.

When Ron sat down Percy gave him a rather dower look then started in with their discussion without ceremony.

“Alright Ronald…” Percy began looking pointedly at Ron as Rosmerta sat a bottle of butterbeer down over Ron's shoulder then retreated without a word.

He could have sworn he felt her press her large breasts into his shoulders but it could have been nothing more than his wishful imagination. He had to mentally slap himself to comprehend what his brother was saying.

“…While I understand your reasons for thinking the Wizard Bonds may be hidden somewhere in the Riddle home I'm not quite sure I'm convinced. I'm sure there have been more than a few who've already searched the place and no-one has reported to us they've found anything stolen from the Ministry, let alone millions in Ministry funds. Although, to be perfectly honest, I can't say anyone has looked there at all either. Care to share your theory?”

Ron had not explained any details to what he, Hermione and Harry had talked about the other evening in the library. He was afraid they might go after the Bonds without him. Now sitting in front of his brother he was just as reluctant to divulge anything further but he didn't know any other way around it. He knew if he didn't his request would probably be denied. He sighed and reluctantly told Percy everything in a quiet, hushed tone.

When he was finished Percy looked stunned as he sat back in his chair.

“Well that's,” his brother looked off into the shadows of the pub not really focusing on anything in particular, “a rather interesting revelation.”

“Look Perc,” Ron said in a rush, “I know it sounds farfetched and all that but I really think it may just be the place. I'm being serious here. I don't suppose you happened to spot the article in the Prophet that indicated my little cutie pie has skipped the U.K. did you?”

Percy's look seemed to shift from mild annoyance to a cross between guilty conscience and reluctant resignation. With a heavy sigh he sat back regarding his younger brother a moment longer when he finally nodded.

“Alright Ronald,” Percy replied, “I'll convince the Minister that I believe you and the others have a legitimate theory as to the whereabouts of the missing Ministry funds…”

Ron seemed to deflate like a blowfish.

“However,” Percy continued, much to Ron's consternation, “Under one condition.”

“What condition?” Ron asked, feeling himself winding back up tighter.

“You agree to allow me to dispatch a contingent of Aurors to not only assist in searching the Riddle place but act as guard as well…”

“Oh for the love of…Come on Percy!” Ron groused, “Why not just invite the entire Wizengamot and the bloody Daily Prophet while you're at it! Heck you might as well make it a blazing front page headline…”

“Look Ron,” Percy huffed in return, “I'm not making this condition to interfere. If Voldemort really did hide something there don't you think he would have put some kind of wards or curses on the place to safeguard against detection by the Ministry or the Order?”

For a moment Ron wanted to stubbornly protest but the more he thought about it the more he realized Percy could be spot on about that. The last thing he wanted to do was to stumble completely blind into one of the Dark Dolt's leftover nightmares and if Percy knew that Ginny was tagging along there was no way he could convince Percy of any other course of action. Besides, he had no desire to put his sister in any more danger than she had already faced at the hands of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

The memory of the moment he discovered she had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets had haunted his dreams for months after. He still wasn't sure he was completely over that. He needed no more convincing in that regard.

“Ok,” Ron resigned, “You make a fare point. No argument. Besides, Hermione told Harry he could try out all his new secret skills in the hunt.”

“Say,” Percy looked passed Ron's shoulder for a moment with a hand on his pointed chin, “That's not a half bad idea! I'll be willing to bet Kingsley would jump at the chance to field test his new program in a situation like this. Even so, maybe I should have Bill take a look before the rest of you go out there just in case there's something particularly nasty.”

“If you think it's necessary but really Perc,” Ron said a bit tiredly, “knowing how careless Voldemort was with his Horcruxes I'm not certain he would have gone to great lengths to protect something like a bunch of paper notes but whatever you think is best.”

What started out as a simple adventure like they used to have was rapidly turning into a three-ringed circus complete with dancing bears and clowns on unicycles, (He had read about the Muggle Circus in a book when he was just a little kid. He had swiped it from Ginny's room when she was just a baby.)

Percy had to admit Ron had a rather valid point and he was certain Bill had his hands full at the moment dealing with a bunch of cranky Goblins anyway.

“Alright,” Percy said finally as he rose from the table, “I'll ask Kingsley if he wants to use his people to provide security. If he isn't interested or prepared or whatever I'll simply dispatch a company of standard Aurors to assist, agreed?”

“Fair enough,” Ron nodded.

“When do you think you'll be going to Little Hengleton?”

“As soon as Harry and Hermione get back from holiday with her folks. As far as I know that will be on Thursday night. I think we were planning on going first thing Friday to use as much daylight as we can.”

“Makes sense,” Percy nodded, “Very well, I'll have one team or the other here first thing Friday morning. I'll tell them to meet you lot here in Hogsmead. Good enough?”

“Perfect,” Ron replied, “Thanks Percy.”

“No problem Ron,” he smiled at his brother warmly for a moment, “I understand your desire to claim that reward. I thought your book was doing rather well though.”

“It is,” Ron said taking on a rather stricken look all of a sudden, “To be perfectly honest and as much as I hate to admit it…it's really not about the money anymore…”

With a blinding movement that impressed even Ron in the sheer speed in which he pulled his wand Percy put its tip just under Ron's nose catching Ron completely unawares.

“Ok, who are you and what have you done with my brother Ronald?”

At first Ron was stunned but when Percy's face crinkled in a wry grin his older brother slipped his wand back into the fold of his Ministry robe. Ron could do nothing more than shake his head chuckling.

As Percy moved off toward the entrance to the pub he stopped and glanced at Ron back over his shoulder.

“Just promise me you'll be careful Ron…Please,” Percy's face took on a slightly pained look for a moment, “We've already buried one family member. I would rather not relive that experience for a long, long time ok?”

Ron just nodded. He didn't realize he suddenly had a goose egg sized lump stuck in his throat.

---@>---

The preparations to go to Little Hangleton were not that complicated. Hermione, of course, felt it necessary to lecture each and every one of them on the importance of safety which meant that almost everyone was a bit edgy before they even started for Hogsmead.

Ginny and the others went on ahead to meet Kingsley's team so they could be briefed.

While they were making their way through the school the trio was accosted by the ever-jovial and effervescent Professor Dervish.

“Well, Merlin's bloomers,” the Professor practically shouted, “if it isn't the Savior of the Wizard World himself!”

Hermione made the formal introduction. She had not introduced Harry to the new Professors like she had planned. After that first night spent in her dorm room she became a bit selfish with his time.

However, she noticed the Professor looked a bit wobbly.

“Are you alright Professor Dervish?”

“Wha…,” his eyes twitched to Hermione for a moment, “Oh…oh yes. I'm fine. Got in a bit of a scrape earlier with a rather rambunctious Snidgit. Not to worry.”

His smile was a bit befuddled until he shook his head.

“If you'll excuse us Professor,” Hermione said politely, “We're in a bit of a hurry.”

“Of course, of course,” Professor Dervish blustered, “However, I was wondering…Harry I must say I am ever so intrigued by the desire to know just how you managed to destroy one of the most powerful magical sorcerer of all time. Please, I beg you. Offer a stodgy old professor a moment of your time. Perhaps I may learn a thing or two to present to my classes for lecture, hmm?”

The professor gazed at Harry rather longingly with the appearance of a quivering Chihuahua.

Harry was about to respectfully decline when Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh go on Harry,” Ron said, “Give the man a moment of your time. It shouldn't take long. You know the way. You can catch us up. Professor Dervish here is like…one of your biggest fans mate!”

Harry stifled an exasperated sigh. He really didn't want to be grilled about all that but on the other hand - he did have a great respect for the Professors. His shoulder's slumped only slightly. He nodded. Hermione frowned and gave Ron a look that suggested he smelled like a rotting Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

“Perhaps I could spare a moment Professor,” Harry said as pleasantly as he could.

“Oh splendid,” the Professor clapped excitedly, still swaying a bit dangerously, “Thank you Harry. You are most gracious!”

Professor Dervish slipped an arm in Harry's and swept the young man away with surprising alacrity for someone who just got a bump on the head.

Hermione was now glaring at Ron trying to decide if she wanted to transfigure him into Doxy droppings or not when she finally huffed.

“Well done you idiot!”

“What?” Ron just shrugged his shoulders trying his best to give her his best innocent look.

Hermione just made a growling noise and grabbed the front of his shirt pulling him along down the hall.

Ron chuckled.

“Ooh Hermione,” he said in an affected low, sexy voice, “Do that growl for me again love, please? It gave me loose flesh all over!”

She stopped and whirled on him with a dark look.

“That's goose flesh you moron!”

They both stared at one-another for a moment then they both burst out in a fit of laughter.

Ron slipped his arm affectionately over her slender shoulder.

“Don't worry Hermione. You've got the bloke for the rest of your life. You're going to have to share him now and again.”

What Ron said warmed her cheeks as they made their way towards Hogsmead.

After Percy had contacted Kingsley the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was thrilled with the prospect of field-testing his fledgling new Auror program.

He dispatched his recruits to assist and had dispatched enough to provide a solid and secure perimeter, just in case.

After everyone was on the same page they took off for the Riddle mansion…minus one Harry Potter.

Hermione finally got to meet the woman Harry had told her about in his letters - the one he said had an uncanny resemblance to Nymphadora Tonks. When Kingsley had introduced them Hermione couldn't help but gawk at the woman stupidly herself. The resemblance was indeed uncanny.

After a slight delay while Kingsley's team swept the house for any spells, incantations wards or traps - the others were allowed inside to begin the search in earnest.Hermione found herself subconsciously partnering up with Ron and Ginny at first. Dean, Seamus and Ernie Macmillan made up the other team of non-Auror trained personnel.

For some reason Luna had no desire to accompany them this time. Neville suspected she simply no longer had any interest in partaking in their adventures and decided to reserve her energy to go on her little safaris with her father to find the odd lost magical creature so Neville elected to stay behind this time as well.

When Hagrid found out Fluffy the giant three-headed dog was on the Lovegood's most wanted short list he took steps to secure the beast, much to Hermione's relief.

The house swept for any hidden traps or curses the rest of them filed in and began searching the entire place. Kingsley insisted each group be accompanied by two of his staff. No-one argued.

After finding the small set of hidden stairs that led down into the cellar off the far side of the huge kitchen, it was Hermione and her team who decided to start there.

Bridgett “Stormy” Patterson went ahead of the group leading with her lit wand with a rather hesitant Hermione right on her heels. She wished Harry was with her.

“Sorry about before,” Hermione whispered to the older woman, “I didn't mean to stare like a confunded idiot. It's just you really do look very much like…”

“The Tonks woman…yes,” Bridgett replied without turning her attention from her task, “It's alright. No offense taken. From what Harry tells me she was quite the scrapper this Tonks.”

“That she was,” Hermione smiled broadly to herself. And a complete klutz went left unsaid. Hermione was not about to degrade a dead woman.

As they descended the narrow creaking wooden staircase she heard the woman speak again.

“Harry's told me a lot about you Ms. Granger.”

“Hermione, please,” she replied, “I hope he didn't make me out to be too…erm…perfect.”

“Not really,” Bridgett said, turning her head slightly to the side so Hermione could see a smirk play across the woman's lips, “just perfect for him.”

Hermione thought she would swoon right then and there. No-one could have slapped the silly grin off her face after that comment.

“And don't I love him madly,” Hermione added absent-mindedly.

As they made the bottom of the steps both the Aurors fanned out along the narrow brick subterranean hallway. Hermione turned to Ron.

“Did you happen to bring your Deluminator by any chance?”

“As a matter of fact I did,” Ron replied as he pulled the silver lighter-looking device from his pocket.

“Brilliant,” Hermione smiled.

“I have my moments,” Ron smirked as he clicked the Deluminator. Three bright balls of yellowish light jumped from the tip and lit the entire underground space.

The Aurors gaped at Ron for a moment as they inquired about the amazing device. Ron was almost instantly smitten with Bridgett and equally as stunned by her resemblance to Tonks.

Ginny moved up next to Hermione.

“So what exactly are we looking for? I mean I know we're looking for the missing wizard bonds but I'm not quite sure I would know one if I saw one.”

“Erm…that is an excellent question Ginny!”

Hermione smacked her forehead with her palm, she had forgotten to tell the others what the bonds may look like.

She quickly told them a general description of how the bonds may appear - Official looking document with fancy writing, the Ministry seal and rather large Roman numerals.

Bridgett used her com-mirror to let the others know what they were looking for. Ron was fascinated by the two-way mirror.

They began searching the basement looking in one room at a time. Each door they opened they discovered what Hermione told them was Muggle treasure after treasure.

They found antique furniture - rare and valuable paintings and works of art. There were tapestries and Persian rugs as well as a beautiful master grand piano that would have been worth a small fortune, but time and the exposure to the damp confines of the basement had caused it to warp and mildew…But no wizard bonds or pilfered magical Ministry property anywhere.

When they had searched all but two of the smaller chambers Hermione was poised to open the last door at the far end of the hall. When she tugged firmly the rusty hinges let out a shrieking complaint as the door came open. She was instantly hit with the most horrid smell.

When her eyes landed on what was inside the small room she froze in pure terror.

Her blood-curdling scream ripped through the confined space stabbing them all in the temples like hot carving knives.

In less than a heartbeat the Aurors were at her side, wands out and ready to strike. Bridgett grabbed Hermione and pulled her from in front of the door while her partner Andrew Kirke covered them.

Ron and Ginny were a bit slower to respond but not by much.

“What is it Hermione,” Ron asked a bit breathless, “was it a ghoul or something?”

“N…n…no!” she stammered wide-eyed and horrified, “Worse…look!”

With a shaking hand she pointed to the open door. Hermione cringed away like she couldn't stand to see whatever was within the room.

Ron stepped forward but the Auror Andrew put a hand on his shoulder.

“Careful there, maybe you should let me?”

“M…maybe you're right,” Ron replied trying to maintain a smattering of dignity.

Ginny leaned close to his shoulder smirking.

“My hero!” She quipped under her breath giggling.

Andrew eased around the door and took the standard three-second look as trained. When he stood up he stepped into the room.

“Kirke!” Bridgett called, still holding a sobbing Hermione.

“S'allright,” he called, “All clear.”

Ron and Ginny stepped in front of the door and peered in wearily. When they saw what was inside Ron's tense shoulders fell at the same time as his lower jaw. He turned to gawk at a still sniffling and horrified-looking Hermione Granger.

“Books!?!” He cried, “You screamed like a bloody banshee for a bunch of moldering old books!”

Ginny had to force herself to keep from bursting out laughing. She hid her glee behind her hands and turned away.

Hermione stiffened and rounded on Ron with a murderous glare.

“Those are not just books Ron Weasley,” she huffed, “they're rare and priceless volumes whose contents has been lost forever because of incompetence and carelessness.”

Ron was still staring at her slack-jawed.

“Well, Merlin's beard Hermione! With your share of the reward you can buy lots of brand-spanking new ones…as many as you like, hmm kay!”

Hermione stomped her foot with arms ridged and hands clenched into tight fists

“That's not the point Ronald…” she began but then knew logic would be lost on him, “Oh…never mind! I wouldn't expect you to understand! The great Ronald Weasley, the Golden Boy has no use for books!”

“Well that's not true Hermione,” Ron replied smirking slightly, “I wrote one for Merlin's sake!

“Or really?” she huffed loudly, “The only use you've ever had for a book was to hide behind so Lav Lav wouldn't find you and you didn't write that book! That dodgy gossip Rita Skeeter wrote it! You just told her all that nonsense!”

They heard Ginny cackle from the next room over.

“Oy!” Ron responded a bit irritated, “That's so not true…and besides, I've used books for other things.”

“Like what?” Hermione asked glaring at him as she folded her arms tightly under her breasts.

“Well,” Ron replied, his face morphing into a wide Cheshire grin, “they're great for fixing a wobbly table.”

Hermione's face flashed a hideous shade of purple and her hand twitched toward her wand until she realized there were now more people in the narrow hall.

“OH!” She stomped her foot again and stormed off in the opposite direction. Ron could envision a small dark stormy cloud above her head.

Ginny sidled up to Ron.

“You know, one of these days you're going to go too far Ron and she's going to transfigure you into something very unpleasant.”

The Auror named Andrew Kirke gave Ron a significant look.

“She's right,” he grinned, “There's nothing so dangerous as a woman scorned…Like tweaking the tail of the Dragon.”

Bridgett gave him a look that made Ron's blood freeze.

“And don't you forget it either!” She huffed pointing at a grinning Andrew.

He just winked at the powerful-looking woman.

Ron got the impression the rather dark gothic hottie could snap a full grown Mountain Troll in two with no trouble at all. He felt the heat rise out of his collar.

Apparently the others heard the commotion and came running. Dean, Seamus, Ernie and the two Aurors with them came bustling up the hall with wands out. Kingsley was close behind with several others. The confined space filled with people quickly.

Bridgett held up her hands.

“It's alright Commander,” she said with authority, “Ms. Granger just got a little spooked, that's all. We're all fine.”

Seamus and Dean looked at one-another questioningly as Dean moved up close to Ginny. They knew it wasn't easy to spook Hermione Granger.

Hermione found herself safely ensconced in another one of the larger chambers. She didn't trust herself to be in close proximity to the dunderhead at present. Her thoughts were in a rather dark place at the moment.

Her mind wandered as she let her finger tips drift lightly over the ornate carved scrollwork of a finely crafted gilded wooden chair.

He didn't understand the importance of those books, no one did. No-one but her seemed to understand how important knowledge was and how devastating it was when it was lost.

Whole decades, even centuries of history were lost to obscurity because of the destruction of historical record from either the ravages of time or war or disaster or just plain human carelessness. There was so much about ancient history they still didn't know - that would never be known.

Every volume lost to the world was a blow to the accumulation of knowledge. Who knows…maybe somewhere in those lost tomes was the cure for a debilitating Muggle disease. It was now lost to time. Complete civilizations had been lost and completely forgotten due to floods, earthquakes, fires and one of the worst destroyers of knowledge both ancient and modern…illiteracy.

It made her sick in her heart to think of how much had been lost through the ages.

As she wandered among the old furniture and items left over from the Riddle family's past she wanted Harry there with her. She wondered what was keeping him.

She was certain Professor Dervish was talking his ears off trying to get him to tell as much as he would divulge about the final battle. The man seemed obsessed with the details.

She could hardly blame him. It wasn't every day Harry Bloody Potter showed up at your door.

She suddenly understood what Ginny had told her about loosing Harry to the wizarding world. She understood now exactly what that meant and it made her a bit angry…well…angrier than she already was.

She wasn't about to loose him to anyone! She had managed to snatch him from the hands of Death more than once. There was no mortal who intimidated her that much. If neither Voldemort nor Death Himself could do it then what chance did the average bloke have?

As she turned to make her way out of the chamber she stopped dead in her tracks…

The chair!

She spun on her heel and stared at the red velvet and gilded framed ornate throne-like chair. She had seen it before, she knew it!

Hermione wracked her brain to remember where she had seen it but couldn't quite recall. It frustrated her because the silly and pointless diatribe with Ron was scattering her thoughts and she was finding it difficult to concentrate feeling so unsettled.

She decided to drop it for the time being and concentrate on locating the Ministry property if it was located in this house.

After some additional personnel were brought from the Ministry to start cataloging and transporting all the items in the basement for future assessment and eventual liquidation, both the search teams moved to the upper floors.

Ron's theory was put to the test on the main floor to no avail. After that floor had been thoroughly searched they moved to the second.

Hermione was getting a bit more perturbed that Harry had not shown up yet. She was wondering what was keeping him and her agitation at one Professor Dervish was reaching a dangerous level. It was when she and Ginny were searching a hall bath they heard Ron cry out.

“Oy…I've got something!”

“Where are you?” Hermione yelled.

“The room at the end of the hall,” Ron yelled, “I think I've found what we've been looking for and a whole lot more!”

Hermione shot Ginny a surprised look as both girls' eyebrows shot up. They dashed to the end of the hall. Ernie and Seamus joined them from adjacent bedrooms they had been searching on either side of the second floor hallway.

When they stepped over the threshold they saw Ron had rolled a ratty looking thick rug up against the far wall and had several lengths of floor boards removed. Deep in the recesses of the sub-floor were dozens upon dozens of small leather pouches and draw-string bags. There were too many to count.

Ernie and Seamus darted forward. Just as Seamus reached to pull out one of the bags Hermione hollered…

“DON'T!”

Seamus' hand jerked back as if he had been scorched.

“Wait until the Aurors get here,” she added hastily, “There's no telling what kind of trap Voldemort put on this place. You could bring the whole bloody ceiling down on are heads for all we know!”

“Trust her,” Ron said, “She knows what she's talking about mate!”

Both Seamus and Ernie looked up the ceiling above their heads and Seamus swallowed hard…he nodded.

It took only a few minutes for Kingsley and his crew to sweep the room. Once they declared it safe they began carefully lifting the bags from the floorboards.

One team removed the flooring and the other lifted out the stash. It didn't take long for someone to yelp that they had at last found the missing Ministry stash. Stacks and stacks of bonds were found that added up to more than 850 million galleons of Ministry revenue. They had also recovered an additional 50 million in gold galleon coins and nearly 10 million in Muggle paper pound notes.

The sheer amount of monetary wealth stashed in the Riddle house was absolutely staggering. That didn't include the value of the antiquities, art and historical artifacts that had been recovered. Nor did it include the vast amount still residing in the bank account in Romania.

…And it was Ronald Bilius Weasley who had been the one to find it.

The Minister for Magic was summoned at once.

It was when Hermione was lifting out one of the smaller leather sacks from the depth of the framing that something made her glance up and notice the wall across from her. It was stained, cracked and peeling but the distinct outline of where paintings and pictures once hung on the wall were still quite distinct.

It was that detail that finally made everything fall into place.

Her head shot up and she stared at the wall in utter shock. In the next second she was on her feet, her eyes never leaving the wall.

It was paneled from the chair rail down to a wide wainscoting and picture box trim. Above was wallpapered in wide vertical greens of varying shades and hues though now long faded. She had seen this wall before…And now she knew where! It was the same place she had seen the chair!

In the next moment the phrases of the prophecy all made complete sense to her. The answer had been in front of her the whole time!

Oh Merlin's ghost…How could I have been SO THICK!

Hermione's stomach did a slow sickening roll.

Ron looked up as he saw Hermione just standing there gaping blankly at the wall in front of her. He thought she had finally gone round the bend but when she turned to face him she was white as a ghost. He knew immediately something was terribly wrong.

He, himself was on his feet then. Ginny had been watching her as well. She stepped up to Hermione and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hermione what is it?”

Hermione looked at Ginny with wild eyes full of fear.

“We have to get back to Hogwarts,” she said in almost a whisper. In the next moment she pulled her wand and said softly, “expecto patronum!”

Her silvery little otter patronus swam in the air circling her once then shot straight through the stained and cracked windows.

Before either of them could ask what was going on, she stepped on their unasked questions.

“Harry's in danger,” she seemed to snap out of the stupor she had found herself, “Look, I've no time to explain…we have to go…NOW!”

Neither Ron nor Ginny said a word. They simply glanced at one-another and nodded. They reached out for Hermione's hand together and clasped it. It was Ron who spoke, his face set with determination.

“Do it Hermione.”

With a twist and a loud crack that startled all within the room they vanished.

It was Bridgett who was near enough to have witnessed what had transpired and overheard their conversation. She went quickly to find the Commander.

“Commander,” she called to him. Kingsley looked up at her with a questioning gaze, “I think we may have a situation …”

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42. 42 - Detention

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 42 - Detention

Harry Potter made his way through the halls of his old school with one of the oddest people he had ever met…and that was saying something in the strange world of even stranger witches and wizards!

He remembered Hermione telling him the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was a `bit odd and a bit high strung' but this bloke was down-right barmy. If Harry didn't know any better he would have guessed the bloke confunded or something but he said nothing as they made their way along the corridors.

Just as they turned the corner of one of the moving staircases the oddly unsteady Professor turned to him.

“Oh Harry, I truly do appreciate your solicitude in indulging an old man's whimsies. Have you met our delightful Professor Star yet…?”

Before Harry had a chance to respond Professor Dervish tugged on Harry's arm and began practically dragging him down a different corridor.

“She's an absolute peach and I just know she would love to meet you as well. Why she was just telling me the other day how she would very much like to meet the one who so gallantly vanquished the Dark Lord…”

When they stopped he realized they were standing outside the Transfiguration classroom. Professor Dervish had babbled the whole way there.

When the Professor pushed open the door and tugged him inside his eyes landed on one of the most incredibly beautiful women he had ever seen in his young life.

Her smile was like liquid honey and her strange blue/violet eyes were alluring and captivating. When she spoke her voice sent a shiver of tingles all through his body.

“Well,” Professor Star said in a most sensuous whispering voice and a smile, “If it isn't the Savior of the Wizarding World at long last.”

“I'm Professor Zalina Sheryl Star,” she gushed as she moved from her desk to clasp Harry's hand in hers, “and it is my very great pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter.”

Harry wanted to say something like “likewise” but his mouth didn't seem to be working correctly at the moment. He recalled how Ron had described her in Hermione's Head dorm the other night but his description was nothing compared to the real thing!

She wore a simple black dress that wasn't exactly indecent but it seemed to cling to every subtle curve and valley of the woman's slender sinewy form. The front was cut very low and served to accentuate her ample breasts wrapping them tightly in the black silky contours of the rather thin material. It was the fact she seemed not to be wearing any under things that was making it a bit difficult for him to breathe.

Her shiny, jet-black waste-length hair seemed to shimmer and shift like it was alive as she moved forward to greet him but it was the eyes…Those large entrancing, sparkling orbs seemed to pull him in and wrap him in a feeling of utter comfort and warmth.

“I pray you can take a few moments out of what I'm certain is a very busy morning to regale Professor Dervish and I with some of your more…” Zalina paused to offer Harry one of her most captivating and alluring smiles, “harrowing adventures!”

What Harry had planned to reply was something like, “Certainly, It would be my pleasure,” but he wasn't all that sure what had actually come out. It had sounded something more like, “Celery…woo beh muh plegh.” He suddenly felt as thick as Troll bogies.

Harry noticed the odd Professor Dervish simply stood there watching them with a goofy look on his face. He appeared half amused and half confused. Professor Star gestured to a chair that sat beside her desk and Harry willingly settled into it.

As he looked up at the gorgeous graceful woman hovering above him Harry suddenly felt as strange ripple of subtle warmth wash over him. The very air seemed to shimmer and vibrate around the woman's perfect body. The sensation was not at all unpleasant and Harry found himself leaning back in his chair and relaxing, feeling almost boneless.

What happened next was so completely unexpected Harry could do nothing more than sit there gawking like a confunded idiot…

He watched as the Transfiguration Professor's clingy black dress slipped from her slender shoulders and fell to the floor in a black puddle at her dainty feet. She was standing in front of Harry wearing nothing but a very sexy and very wanton smile.

“Do you like what you see Mr. Potter,” she whispered in a voice that sounded like liquid satin and tasted like strawberries and cream.

But as Harry sat there taking in her exquisite naked form he suddenly realized her lips had not moved. Her voice was in his head!

Another wave of pure warmth and intense pleasure coursed through him causing his own body to react to this very strange but very pleasant situation. For some reason he couldn't make himself be as alarmed as he thought he should be…It just felt way too good!

In the next second the incredible sensuous woman lowered her lithe naked body settling her perfect bare bottom onto his legs sliding slowly forward to press her warm center firmly against the growing lump in his trousers grinding her hips ever so slightly to send a thrill of supercharged lust through him.

She wrapped her slender arms around his neck. Harry was starring at two of the most perfect female breasts he had ever seen and they were less than an inch from his nose.

He could smell the woman's perfume mixed with the warmth of her naked body and it was utterly intoxicating. Tearing his eyes away from her full milky mounds so temptingly close he peered into her eyes once again knowing he probably looked like a confunded idiot.

Harry seemed completely mesmerized as he began hearing her speak in a husky whisper but the words made absolutely no sense to him…

“Aldar callem - hethos bay notoros - sheeza kel turose - maldiary hon par nathas!”

As the words seem to echo in his head Harry began to feel the warmth that had encompassed him just seconds before slide slowly away. He felt his insides suddenly squirm and writhe making him a bit uncomfortable…He felt the beautiful woman's soft sensuous lips gently brush his and he wanted more…He suddenly wanted to taste her!

“Oothos spathad…careem et on hathos pell nar sectum met une dampray shezall!”

The whispered words filled his head to overflowing like his mind was suddenly overstuffed with hazy deafening noise. In the next second it was as if he had been hit right between the eyes with a wicked blow from an ax blade cleaving right through his skull.

The pain was so intense he had the sudden and intense urge to vomit.

The scar!

It burned white hot with a pain unlike anything he had ever felt before throughout the entire episode with Voldemort. He wanted to grab his head but he was suddenly aware he couldn't seem to move.

The woman's naked body remained just as it was, sitting astride his legs, her ample breasts filling his now watery gaze as her warm hands played in his hair but as his eyes rolled wildly in his head he saw the room beyond the woman's glorious naked form to see something that his brain could simply not comprehend…

Professor Zalina Sheryl Star was also standing in front of him a few feet away…still fully dressed in her clingy black gown. She lifted a vial of pink liquid to her lips and swallowed it in one gulp. She then turned back to Harry with a dark and manic look on her lovely face…She spoke again…

“Temporium alda met - istoo methas hon par nathas - istoo heron tar nin bal hieestronatis! DEOS LIN INEEN!”

With those words Harry's whole world seemed to explode. His whole body seemed to lock tight, every muscle seemed to clench, fingers twisting in strange curling claws of utter agony.

It felt like someone was trying to tear him in half. He could have sworn he heard something tearing like someone was ripping a piece of cloth apart but the blinding pain was just too much…and the world, both inside and out…went completely black…

---@>---

Zalina couldn't believe how easy it was to get the simpering Professor Dervish to do her bidding. She had convinced herself she would probably have to employ the Imperious curse on him but that extreme had not even been necessary.

Hilliard was so gone on her present enticing female form she probably could have asked him to jump off the Astronomy tower and he would have obliged her.

With nothing more than a very subtle and erotic touch of Occlumency she convinced the twiddling D.A.D.A. Professor to steer the great and noble Harry Potter right into her hands.

`Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly…HA!'

Earlier that morning, she had taken the necessary step to produce a Horcrux by eliminating someone she was so very glad to get rid of once and for all. Zalina had made her way to the Divinations classroom and found her quarry just where she had expected.

The barmy woman was twirling around the room waving some kind of smoldering herb that gave off the smell that distinctly reminded Professor Star of burning Troll dung!

It only took a brief moment and in a blinding flash of green light the doorway had been opened to capture Harry Potter's soul and place it in the ready-made vessel!

It was then only a matter of following the steps she had created, ingesting the potions she had carefully produced with the help of one Professor Slughorn who, again with the help of some clever Occlumency, assisted in its creation without asking a single question.

Horny old goats are so easily manipulated! The mind is weak when the body is more than willing!

After that, it was simply to recite the words of the incantation of the ancient magic given to her by her illustrious Great Grandfather to call forth the essence of Tom Riddle from the portrait and transfer it into the empty husk that once was Harry Potter.

It was the very same method Riddle had used in his failed attempt to occupy the little red-haired Weasley girl from his diary Horcrux. It had been a brilliant idea but didn't quite turn out like he had expected.

But this time…no phoenix, no sword of Gryffindor and no Albus Dumbledore! That lout was moldering away in his own portrait in the Headmaster's office at that very moment.

Good riddance to bad rubbish I say!

Not only would Voldemort return but he would occupy the very one who had destroyed him and possess the very soul of the stupid boy trapped in his own Horcrux vessel in his stupid head to play with and torture at his leisure! The poetic justice of it all was simply to delectable for words.

She knew it would take time to tear the Potter boy's soul free from his corporeal form and she would have to make certain she was not disturbed in the process. She sealed and warded the Transfiguration classroom just in case but she was well aware most all the barmy little louts had run off to the Riddle mansion to find the treasure hidden there.

It would do them no good once her plans succeeded. The threat of Voldemort would once again be real and she would make certain this time the fear that would spread unbidden throughout the wizard world would cripple any opposition to her cause to purge their would of the scum that threatened the purity of her race.

The remaining Death Eaters would heed to her call and bow in allegiance once again to the power of the Dark Lord…thrice risen from the grave…but this time she would be the one in ultimate control. She would not allow the mistakes of the past to hinder them this time…

As she watched the disgusting Potter boy stiffen with the pain coursing through his body as his soul was ripped from its moorings inside his frame she turned a calculating eye on the D.A.D.A. Professor standing there awaiting her instructions. Zalina raised her wand.

“I don't believe I require your services any longer Hilliard,” she quipped with a snide grin as she flicked her wand toward him…

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43. 43 - A Fight for Survival

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 43 - A Fight for Survival

Hermione, Ron and Ginny landed on the path just outside Hogsmead. Without another thought they sprinted toward the castle.

Panic was welling up inside Hermione until she thought she would burst.

“Why did you send out your patronus before we left?” Ron asked breathlessly.

“To ask for help,” Hermione answered still running at full tilt, “We need to get to the transfiguration class!”

When they finally reach the classroom Draco was there with a rather confused Neville, Luna and a few others trying to get the door to open.

Ron glowered at Draco just about to pull his wand.

“What in the bloody hell is he doing here?”

“Leave him alone Ron,” Hermione hollered, “He was the one I sent my patronus to. I asked him to round up as many D.A. members as he could find.”

“But!” Ron stammered looking at Hermione as if she had lost her mind.

“Shut it Ron,” it was Ginny who spoke up this time, “We don't have time for this.”

“Stand clear everyone!” Hermione lifts her wand to perform a spell on the door to open it.

“No, wait…” Draco tried to stop her but was a bit too late.

Hermione's spell hit the door, ricocheted off just missing Neville's head as it careened around the hallway knocking complaining portraits off the walls and chased a suit of armor into the next hallway over, its metal arm flailing above his helmet.

“Sorry everyone, sorry,” Hermione winced as the rest came out from under arms they'd flung over their heads.

Draco gave her a cool look.

“Don't mean to sound flip but I assumed you would have realized we'd have tried that already.”

“Don't be snarky Draco,” the corner of Hermione's mouth twitched into a slight grin.

They all watched this exchange with great interest. Luna just smiled her empty-headed dreamy smile looking at them both.

“How are we going to get in then?” Ron asked in alarm.

Hermione's mind started working trying to figure out how to get through the obviously impervious door to the classroom. It was hard for her to focus not knowing what could possibly be happening to Harry in there. As panic slowly began to tighten her chest Draco's expression suddenly came alive.

“I've got it,” he said with a smirk, “It's a long shot but it's all I can think of at the moment.”

Hermione was about to ask what he was going to do when he turned and walked to the middle of the hallway. He held out his mother's wand.

“Accio broom!”

Somewhere in the bowls of Hogwarts a Firebolt was zipping through the halls and corridors, rounding corners, taking stairways, blasting through doors.

Students and faculty alike dodged and dove out of the brooms speeding path. On the floor below the broom took a sharp corner bouncing off the bust of Higbey the Hapless and careened right into an unsuspecting Peeves. The poltergeist went spinning straight up with a howl bouncing off the ceiling and ended up wedged in the urn of the statue of Wynona the Water Barer.

Peeves dizzy voice echoed out of the bottom of the urn…

“Zoom…zoom what a mad…mad broom!”

When the broom finally landed in Draco's hand he turned immediately back to the others. With another swipe of his wand he cast a silencing charm on the group.

“Ok, here's the plan. I'm going to fly around the outside of the castle and come in through the window. I'm hoping whoever's in there didn't think to fortify those. I mean we're several stories off the ground for Merlin's sake.”

“That's a brilliant idea Draco,” Neville said looking a bit surprised, “Wish I would of thought of it.”

“You can't go in there alone Draco,” Hermione protested, “There's no telling what Professor Star is up to and I think Professor Dervish might be involved.”

Draco was about to argue they didn't have time to argue when Ron piped up.

“I'll go with you Draco.” Ron stepped forward pulling his wand out.

Hermione's eyebrows all but disappeared.

“Well…” Ron shrugged, “I take it you trust him now so…I suppose there's no reason for me not to…I think.”

Draco looked between him and Hermione. He didn't want to say that he thought if he was going to be saddled with a passenger Granger would have been the better choice because of her skill but he kept his opinions to himself.

“Alright then,” Draco mounted his broom and slid as far forward as he could, “Let's go! Something tells me we don't have much time. You better hold on. I won't have time to save you if you fall off.”

Ron slid behind the Slytherin Prefect and took two hands full of his shirt.

“Just pay attention to your flying and don't worry about me.”

Hermione looked at them with trepidation.

“You two be careful,” she said as they lifted off, “and try to distract them long enough for me to get through this door!” she hollered after them as they zipped down the hallway.

When they reached the end of the hall Draco flicked his wand at the large stain-glass window. It flew open and they zoomed out high above the Hogwarts grounds below.

Draco felt Ron's grip tighten on his shirt. He couldn't help but smirk to himself.

“Now listen Weasley,” Draco yelled above the rushing wind, “When we approach the window of the Transfiguration room wait till the very last possible second before you open it with your wand, got it? We need as much surprise as we can get!”

“Got it,” Ron said in a rather shaky voice.

“We're going in fast so be prepared. I have no idea what's going to be on the other side. Once we get in there stun anything that moves!”

“Right!” Ron replied.

“Here we go!” Draco pushed his broom forward as fast as it would go with the combined weight of both boys. He made a wide arc around the last corner of the building, turned back and headed straight for the last window in the line for the Transfiguration room toward the rear of the class.

Just before the tip of the handle of his Nimbus touched the glass he yelled “NOW!”

Ron hit the window with a spell and it exploded into a million shards. That wasn't exactly what Draco had in mind.

As they careened into the room Draco yelled “Stop!” at his broom. The Firebolt did indeed stop however the boys didn't.

Draco flew forward and having the presence of mind to twist sideways, so Ron didn't land on top of him, fell hard on his back on the stone floor and slid all the way to the other side of the room, the landing knocked him breathless but had wand out and ready just the same.

Ron, on the other hand, was not quite so quick on the uptake. He landed sprawled on a desk, glanced off the top and crashed into several others as he slid to a stop under a pile of debris. His right knee hit hard on the stone floor and he heard a loud crack. Pain unlike anything he had ever felt exploded from his right leg. Even though, he managed to turn and push the pile of broken and mangled desks off him in time to get a clear path to the front of the room.

Their diversion worked. The calamity in the back of the room distracted Professor Star's concentration just enough for her sealing charm on the door to weaken ever so slightly.

The next sound was the classroom door exploding completely off its hinges as it flew across the room and smashed into the far wall shattering a few more windows!

As the dust and debris settled an angry and dangerous looking Muggle-born witch stormed into the room with her wand pointing at Professor Star spitting angry red sparks.

“GET AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND YOU BITCH!”

The scene that greeted Hermione almost made her heart stop…

Professor Star stood with one hand on Harry's forehead and the other resting on the frame of Tom Riddle's painting. His likeness in the picture was glaring evilly at Hermione as it began to fade.

A swirling grey-black mist began to emanate from the canvas and drift toward Harry.

“NO!” Hermione screamed as she raised her wand but the Professor was faster on the draw.

With blinding speed Professor Star flipped a reducto at Hermione. She deftly deflected it but then the Professor caught her with an underhanded body-bind right before Ron threw an expliermus.

Professor Star deflected that easily but Draco got her with his own reducto.

Professor Star flew back against the back wall of the classroom crashing through the blackboard beside her desk. She lost contact with both Harry and the painting.

“Nooooooo!” She shrieked, “The ritual must be completed!”

As they watch the smoky entity seemed confused at first about which direction it should go. With others in the room it detected several life forces and it was confused for a moment.

It was long enough for Hermione to think. She cast a shield charm between Harry and the mist.

“Ron,” Hermione cried out, “Cast a lumos solem! Hurry!”

“Lumos Solem!” Ron shouted performing a perfect swish and flick movement and the whole room was filled with a blinding white light.

When the pure white light hit the black mist it quivered, roiled, twisted and rolled. It seemed to compress in on itself. Suddenly it fled back into the painting.

“Noooo,” they heard Tom Riddle's image scream, “You disgusting little mudblood whore!”

It was Draco still covering a howling Professor Star that threw a charm at the canvas and Tom Riddle was thrown back into his chair, bound tightly with heavy rope and a red cloth wound around his mouth tightly in a gag.

Draco turned back to Professor Star and cast a body-bind curse on her.

Professor Star stirred slightly then peered wide-eyed at Draco.

“But you're a pure blood! Why have you aligned yourself with these sub-human scum?”

Draco snarled at the woman looking dark and dangerous himself.

“I've had enough of all that stupid pure blood nonsense! I'm SICK OF IT! Voldemort ruined my life! He tore my family apart and now you want to bring that sick, twisted bastard BACK!”

He threw a wicked curse at her and the Professor's wand flew across the room like an arrow shot out of a crossbow. When it hit the opposite wall it exploded in a shower of sparks. She shrieked and Harry, still unconscious, jerked like he'd been touched with electricity.

Wow! That was one amped-up hex! Yikes!

“Draco,” Hermione said warningly. She could almost see the waves of hatred coming off the Slytherin like heat. She had to do something to distract him to calm him down, “Please release me!”

Draco reluctantly turned back to Hermione and with a flick undid the body bind Professor Star had hit her with.

“Thanks,” she said looking up into his eyes dark with seething anger, “Can you check Professor Dervish please?”

Professor Dervish lay in a heap in front of Professor Star's desk. Draco moved to check the Dark Arts teacher. Leaning down he put a hand on the unconscious man's wrist.

“He's alive,” Draco reported, “I think he's just knocked out.”

She moved toward Harry quickly as the others tentatively entered the room looking around with wide eyes. She glanced down at Ron as she passed him, his wand now on the painting.

“You ok?” she asked as she went by.

“Think my knee is shattered but not to worry,” he said through gritted teeth, “I've got the painting. He so much as moves a finger I'll incinerate the bloody thing!”

“Best wait Ron,” she warned, “We may need it. Well done Weasley.” Hermione said smiling at him.

“Moments…Granger,” Ron winced. His knee was starting to swell.

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

“Yes, you most certainly do have them Mr. Weasley,” she said, “Thank you.”

He nodded. Hermione then moved to Harry and laid her hand on his forehead. His skin was as cold as death but she could see the rise and fall of his chest and felt the weak pulse in the artery in his neck. He was alive but something was terribly wrong.

Something inside Hermione's mind snapped. For the first time in her life she finally came face to face with the true possibility of real loss. When they were younger she had been all but insulated from the possibility of loosing those she loved due to nothing more than being a Muggle and her family all but removed from the wizard world. There were times when it had come close but she had been spared the worst of it.

As she stood there seeing Harry looking like a corpse it was as if the years of tension and anger had reached its limit. She could take no more!

Hermione stomped her way over to the corner where the Professor Star lay. Draco was still standing over Professor Dervish trying to enervate him.

She bent down and grabbed a hand full of the beautiful witch's long silky black tresses and jerked up hard.

“TELL ME WHAT YOU”VE DONE TO HIM!” Hermione screamed in the woman's face.

Professor Star just laughed at her.

“Ooh, that was not very intelligent,” they heard Ron mutter from the middle of the room.

At first she shoved her wand under the grinning Professor's nose but then with gritted teeth Hermione coiled her right arm and punched the Professor right in the mouth. Blood exploded from the woman's split lip and nose. Hermione shook the woman's head hard and glared at her with pure unadulterated rage.

“TELL ME WHAT YOU'VE DONE OR I SWARE I'LL POUND YOUR ARSE INTO A BLOODY PUDDLE!”

She wound up for another punch but suddenly Draco was there. He caught her arm as it swung back. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

“I'd love to stand here and watch you pound the snot out of her, really, because I know what it feels like but…”

“Miss Granger!” A voice of authority came from behind them. A voice she knew all too well, “What is the meaning of this?”

Hermione's head snapped toward the destroyed entrance. Headmistress McGonagall stood there flanked by…everyone!

Kingsley and Bridgett shot across the room and took control of Professor Star along with a few other Auror Specialists. A few others went to Harry and tried to enervate him to no avail.

Madam Pomfrey went immediately to see to Ron and Professor Dervish. With help from some students, (mostly girls for Ron which made him grin like a confunded idiot), they transported the two to the hospital wing.

Hermione suddenly lost control of her emotions. Much to everyone's shock Draco put his arm around her shoulder and led her away from Professor Star.

They first went to Harry. Several Ministry Oblivators were there along with several Healers. They began to examine Harry's condition when a rather blustering Madam Pomfrey shooed them all away.

“Excuse me,” she said matter-of-factly, “Out of the way if you please! I was patching this lad up long before he knew what an unforgivable curse was!”

She looked him over then pronounced he was safe to move to the infirmary.

Professor Star was taken to an enclosed room along with the painting of Tom Riddle in the same wing as the hospital.

Everyone was shocked when they saw the portrait and could not believe something like that was left behind.

The Minister for Magic, Arthur Weasley came flying into the Infirmary with Percy in tow and went directly to Kingsley to find out what was going on.

As Kingsley explained the strange chain of events Arthur's mouth kept opening wider and wider.

“A painting you say,” Arthur asked incredulously, “How extraordinary! And this Professor Star was attempting to extract the essence of Voldemort from the painting and plant it inside Harry? Can that even be done?”

“Apparently she thought so,” Kingsley replied darkly, “According to what Ms. Granger told me she was very close to succeeding or at the very least it appeared that way.

“Merlin's ghost!” Percy commented looking as white as a sheet.

They moved into the room that contained the painting and Professor Star. McGonagall found it necessary to place a silencing charm on the woman to stifle the demeaning and vitriolic diatribe spewing forth from the beautiful woman's mouth.

Some of Harry's team members bound Professor Star to a chair and Bridgett was none too subtle with the woman. It was Kinsley who began the interrogation but Professor Star would prove to be wholly uncooperative. He gives her a chance to speak freely but just laughed.

“You think you've saved your precious Golden Boy don't you…but you haven't. You're just prolonging the inevitable you pathetic vermin!”

Hermione lurched forward to smack the woman again but luckily Bridgett was within reach. She shot her a dark look but the Auror merely shook her head.

“Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said, “Restrain yourself, please! This is going to be difficult enough without you loosing your temper. If you cannot control yourself I'm going to have you removed, is that clear?”

Hermione nodded but said nothing, her eyes boring holes into the sneering Professor Star.

McGonagall pursed her lips and turned back to Zalina.

Kingsley loomed over the trussed up woman like a mountain.

“So I suppose this means you are not going to co-operate and answer our questions?”

“So, I suppose this means you're the head-nitwit in charge?” Zalina snarled.

Kingsley glances at the Headmistress and they move away from Zalina. The others follow and they put a silencing charm between them and the Professor and the painting.

“So what do you propose we do Kingsley?” McGonagall asked.

“Well, the first order of business should be to see to Harry. We must find out what she's done to him so we can try and reverse the spell.”

“I'm certain she'll not reveal her secrets,” McGonagall replied looking worried, “It's the only thing she has to bargain with.”

“Vertiserum?” Neville Longbottom interjected.

They all looked at him with eyebrows raised. He blushed hot under their gazes.

“She may have anticipated that but it's worth a try,” Kingsley stated.

“Oh I think Horace has exactly what we need for this particular occasion,” McGonagall smirked looking at the tied-up woman leering at them, “Neville if you would be so kind to fetch Professor Slughorn. Tell him to bring his special Vertelixir.

“I'll go,” Draco said. They all looked at him for a moment. He just shrugged, “I know a short cut to the dungeons.”

The Headmistress raised her eyebrows even further but said nothing, “Very well, Neville if you will fetch Madam Pomfrey then, if you please.”

Neville nodded then both he and Draco slipped out of the room. Hermione followed and went to Harry's bedside. She could see the nurse had put Ron in the bed right beside him.

“Any change?” she asked Ron wearily.

“Sorry,” he said glumly, “afraid not.”

“How are you?” She asked glancing over at him. His leg was trussed up in a levitated sling.

“Ah,” he waved his hand, “Just a broken bone. Child's play for old Poppy I'd say.”

“Ronald, be respectful,” Hermione scolded, “Madam Pomfrey is old enough to be your Grandmother.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Ron saw that Hermione looked on the verge of tears as she scooped up one of Harry's limp, cold hands and kissed it gently.

“Don't worry Hermione,” Ron whispered, “He'll make it…He always does. Seems like he's got more lives then that mangy kneazle of yours.”

“Crookshanks is not mangy and Harry isn't a kneazle.” She said tersely.

“Come on,” he relented, “You know what I mean. If there's a way back…he'll find it. You know he will.”

There was something comforting in Ron's words despite the fear that gripped her like the cold hand of death. Harry did have a habit of finding his way back to them. She just hoped this time was no different but as he lay there as cold as a corpse his condition seemed to be getting worse.

She racked her brain trying to think of anything that she might remember or anything she might have heard when Draco reappeared through the Infirmary doors with a rather flustered Slughorn huffing and puffing in his wake.

The potions professor was carrying what appeared to be a medical bag like the ones her parents used to take their tools and implements with them when they worked in the free clinics in and around London providing dental work for the poor.

She leaped to her feet and leaned down to place a quick kiss on Harry's forehead when she noticed it.

His scar!

Harry's lightning bolt shaped scar looked different then it had in the months since Voldemort's second demise. It looked almost raw and puffy.

Then it clicked. She suddenly recalled a memory about Horcruxes…about the objects used in creating them being vessels to contain the pieces of one's soul.

Then the pieces of a larger picture all started falling into place in her brilliantly organized mind. She dashed to the interrogation room.

As she piled in behind Draco and Professor Slughorn she was about to announce her revelation when Neville asked a question.

“Professor what is Vertelixir?”

Slughorn stopped short looking at Neville as if he had grown a third eye.

“V…Verte…” he sputtered, “Where did you hear about that my boy? That's supposed to be a secret.”

“Secret Professor?” Neville asked a bit surprised.

“Well, of course young man,” Slughorn said annoyed as he made his way to where the others were with the prisoner, “you don't think we professors teach our students all the secrets of the wizarding world, do you?”

A soft groan came from somewhere near Headmistress McGonagall just before…

“WHAT?” Hermione shouted, “You mean to tell me you've been holding out on us Professor?”

She was standing behind them looking every bit as dangerous and dark as Zalina, her hands opening and closing into fists.

“Wha…,” Slughorn spun to gape at her, “well of course young lady. Do you really think we professors would teach expert-level magic to mere students? Don't be silly. It takes age and experience to handle much of the advanced or, what is often referred to as clinical level magic. Can't have inexperienced youngsters mucking about with that level of sorcery now, can we?”

Horace gave her a bewildered smile then turned back to the others and began removing items from his bag.

Hermione was turning purple with rage. She was about to fly off into a torrential hurricane of hissy fit when she felt a hand land softly on her shoulder.

“Now's not the time for this Granger,” Draco whispered into her ear, “I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to hex all the professors into Doxy droppings later if you like but I think we better stay focused yes?”

He was right of course…but this wasn't over by a long shot. She tried to relax.

“Besides,” he continued with a chuckle in his voice, “you're the only witch I know that would get angry at the staff for what they'd left out of your lessons.”

“Ha, ha,” she growled under her breath, “Very amusing! It's just that some of that stuff may have been useful to dispatch Voldemort sooner that's all!”

“Face it Granger,” Draco quipped, “You just don't like being left out…”

“Oh, enough,” Hermione waved a hand irritatingly at him, “`I've got more important things to worry about…Headmistress,” she said out loud, “I think I know what's going on?”

Hermione stepped forward just as they administered several drops of a light green viscous liquid into Professor Star's mouth that Kingsley had forced open with his wand. When she was released he pinched her nose until she swallowed.

The effects of the potion were almost instantaneous. Professor Star sagged against her restraints and looked almost blank.

McGonagall looked pointedly at Hermione, “What are you referring to Ms. Granger?”

“I think I know what Professor Star was trying to do.”

“I believe that was quite obvious to all Ms. Granger.”

“True, Headmistress,” Hermione said, “but I think I also know the how and why. Do you mind if I ask the questions?”

McGonagall looked at Kingsley who lifted a shoulder.

“Very well,” McGonagall gave her a pointed look, “But keep your hands to yourself if you please.”

Hermione raised both hands in resignation and moved forward. Zalina's head lolled to the side as she gazed at Hermione with pure unadulterated hate.

Hermione had a million questions all rushing at her at once but mentally brushed them all aside. She was only interested in what had been done to Harry at this point. She was almost certain she already knew but she had to find out how.

Even under the influence of a truth potion one had to ask the right questions in order to get the right answers. Even though the person that had been given the potion was incapable of lying, they were not compelled to answer unless asked a specific question. It could be tricky if you didn't know what you were looking for.

Hermione knew what she was looking for. That was why she requested to be the one to interrogate the woman. She thought for a moment trying to decide the best way to pose the question so the woman could not be evasive or vague in her answer.

“Professor Star,” Hermione asked evenly, “What did you do to prepare Harry Potter to receive Tom Riddle's entity from the portrait?”

In a slurring, drawling voice Professor Star began to answer as if it was painful to do so.

“It was a difficult and painful procedure. I had to enter his body to capture his soul. It wasn't easy. I lured him to me using erotic visions planted in his head and when I was certain I had his attention I used the ritual to create a Horcrux.”

Hermione shuddered. She knew the spell needed to create a Horcrux. She also knew there was no reversing it. Once a Horcrux was created there was only one way to get rid of it. Its vessel had to be destroyed or at least that was the common school of thought.

She felt sick. She wanted to scream and beat the woman to a pulp but she forced herself to remain calm. There had to be an answer. She just needed to be clever enough to find it. Her brain worked like it had never before.

“Who did you kill?” Hermione asked. She knew it wasn't Professor Dervish because he was still breathing. She was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“That stupid drunken sot of a pathetic Seer…” Professor Star grimaced, “She would have ruined everything.”

Gasps and moans were heard all around. Even though most thought Sybille Trelawney was a strange and eccentric goof ball no-one wanted to see her come to harm.

“Where is she Professor Star,” McGonagall asked looking like she could do some serious damage to the younger witch herself at the moment, “Where did you leave Sybille's remains!”

“Why I transfigured her corpse into the thing she loved the best,” the woman slurred as if she was drunk, “One of her stupid crystal balls!” She laughed loudly.

Kingsley nodded to a few of his team and they were off in a shot. They were dispatched to find her body.

Hermione had to really stamp down on her urge to kill this woman with her bare hands. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Her next questions were vital in finding a way to save Harry.

“Professor Star. Is Harry Potter's soul contained in a Horcrux?”

“Yes.” The woman replied.

“Is his Horcrux inside him?” Hermione asked.

“Yes.” Professor Star replied again.

The others standing around them were gawking and gasping, muttering in horror at what was being revealed. Hermione had to focus to tune them all out.

She didn't want to ask the next question because she was certain she already knew the answer but she had to be absolutely certain.

“Professor Star, is there a way to retrieve Harry Potter's soul from the Horcrux and place it whole and undamaged back into his body?”

Hermione held her breath praying to every deity she could think of she was wrong just this once.

“No…” the professor replied, “You cannot retrieve the soul from a Horcrux from outside its vessel. The vessel must be destroyed.”

Hermione slumped. Even though she had prepared herself to hear the worst the actual confirmation of it was devastating. She lay her head in her hands trying desperately not to lose it.

As the murmurs and urgent discussions went on around her, Hermione knew that a human's body could not survive for long without its soul. She was about to come to terms with the fact that she couldn't save him this time. The only thing she could do now was to say goodbye before his body expired. The thought of it utterly crushed her.

She heard someone say something to her but it was as if the voice was coming from a great distance, then a hand touched her shoulder lightly and Hermione looked up to see Luna's smiling face. Hermione was about to get upset with her flighty friend when Luna repeated what she had said.

“Didn't you hear what Professor Star said Hermione? She said the soul could not be retrieved from outside the Horcruxes vessel…”

The implications of what Luna said pierced Hermione's beleaguered mind like someone had run the sword of Gryffindor right through her skull.

Of course! That had to be the answer she was looking for.

Hermione smiled at Luna and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

“You're a genius Luna!”

“Yes, I am fairly intuitive,” Luna replied matter-of-factly.

Hermione whipped back around to Professor Star. The rest of the group fell deathly silent.

“Professor Star,” Hermione asked, her voice quavering slightly, “Is there a way to retrieve a soul from a Horcrux by getting inside the vessel with the soul fragment?”

Hermione stared at the woman willing her to answer with all her might. Professor Star seemed to hesitate, her face contorting with what could only be described as displeasure.

“It…” the woman paused, “It…may be possible…yes although it's never been attempted before. I'm not an expert on Horcruxes.”

It was a chance. A slim one at best but it was the one chance they were looking for. Hermione had one final question to ask her.

“Would Tom Riddle's image in the painting know if this was possible?”

Again Professor Star hesitated not sure of herself.

“It's…possible,” the Professor said slowly.

Hermione was already moving toward the painting before the woman had finished speaking.

Kingsley had levitated the portrait and stuck it to the wall.

“Draco,” Hermione looked at him over her shoulder and without further inquiry he swirled his wand. Tom Riddle's image was released from his bindings and his gag.

He sat looking out his portrait at all the faces glaring at him, Hermione's being the closest.

“So,” he said in his haughtiest voice, “decided to wise up and release me from my bondage did you?” He was straightening the wrinkles from his Hogwarts robe.

“SHUT UP…You foul, loathsome excuse for a work of art!” Hermione screamed. She put her wand right up against the canvas. A slight puff of smoke came from its tip drifting up the portrait making Tom Riddle cough.

Somewhere behind her Draco's eyebrows all but disappeared. He remembered hearing something a bit like that some years ago but couldn't exactly recall the details.

“I know you heard the question I asked Professor Star! Tell me if it's true! Is it possible?”

Tom Riddle said nothing but didn't take his eyes off the tip of her wand.

“TELL ME,” Hermione screamed again. She was very close to loosing control, “Or I swear I'll incinerate you RIGHT THIS MOMENT!”

Tom Riddle raised both hands to fend off the sparks bouncing off the canvas.

“I don't know!” He answered angrily.

“Then there's no need to keep you hanging around is there!”

It was Draco who had spoken. He moved forward with wand raised and a small flame emanating from the tip. As he got close the image of Tom Riddle recoiled back, falling over the gilded chair. The miniature image fell back against the familiar painted and papered wall behind.

When some of the others, frozen by what they were witnessing moved forward to stop Draco, Hermione held up a hand to stall them. Something told her that Draco knew what he was doing or at least she hoped.

Indeed, Draco stopped just short of searing the canvas with his tiny flame. Tom Riddle peered at the face over his upheld hands shielding his own. When he recognized Draco he was stunned.

“Why…why you're one of us,” Tom Riddle said, “You bare the Dark Mark. You owe your allegiance to me!” Riddle's handsome youthful image wrinkled into a horribly evil sneer, “How dare you take up your wand against me!”

“Your time is finished Voldemort,” Draco spit, “My father lost his life because of you now tell her what she wants to know or I'll light this portrait myself!”

“Your father lost his life because he was weak and stupid!” Riddle spit back.

With that Draco touched the tip of his wand to the very bottom corner of the canvas. Everyone gasped as the flame slowly climbed up the corner of the painting toward a terrified Tom Riddle.

“No!” He screamed.

“Tell us what we need to know and I'll extinguish the flames!” Draco yelled.

“I told you I don't know!” Riddle moved to the farthest edge of the portrait but seemed to be trapped within it. That surprised Hermione but she didn't comment. This told her there were no other paintings of Tom Riddle. This must be the only one…thank the stars! She looked at Tom Riddle again.

“Is there a way to get into a Horcrux from outside?” She asked.

“I don't know! It's possible I suppose…” Riddle was staring at the climbing blue-green flame watching the oil paint bubble and blister as the canvas turned black.

“HOW?” Hermione bellowed.

“I…I don't…Legilimens I suppose! It would be the only way! There, I've told you now put out the flames!”

“Tell the truth...” Hermione said quite calmly.

For a brief moment the image of the teen-aged Slytherin stopped and glared wide-eyed at Hermione's face. It was as if what she had said sparked a deep-seated memory in him. His painted face paled to an almost colorless hue.

Hermione recognized the look in his wide eyes…Fear!

“Yes…Yes…It's all I know,” he pleaded, “Now PUT OUT THE FLAMES. YOU PROMISED!”

Hermione and Draco looked at one another for a long moment when a small devious smile pulled at the corner of Hermione's mouth. They both spoke at the exact same time…

“We lied!”

They turned and left the room without looking back at the portrait. As the others stood they watched in silence as the flames engulfed the rest of the canvas. The oil painted image of Tom Riddle screamed as it bubbled and contorted, consumed by the fire that crawled over the canvas. It eventually spread to the gaudy gilded frame and in a frighteningly short time the painting was engulfed in flames, snapping and crackling as the fire devoured its meal like a living thing.

“Goodbye Tom Riddle.”

Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood as she stood with her dreamy look and a sad smile. She gave the burning portrait a tiny wave of her small hand then she too turned and skipped out of the room.

Professor Star sagged as she sobbed uncontrollably.

As Hermione and Draco made their way into the infirmary she began speaking but mostly to herself. Headmistress McGonagall and most of the others filed out behind them.

“Even if it's possible to get into a Horcrux with Legilimens it still doesn't tell me how to get Harry's soul out.”

“Perhaps the Horcrux vessel can be opened from the inside,” Ginny said her face a mask of worry as she glanced over to where Harry lay white as a sheet.

“Maybe,” Hermione responded still lost in thought, “but I know nothing about Legilimens. Do you know anyone who does Headmistress?”

Regretfully McGonagall shook her head.

“I'm afraid the only one here at Hogwarts with any experience was Professor Snape. It wasn't something we thought prudent to actually teach. Perhaps I can get someone from the Department of Mysteries to help…”

“I know someone,” Draco spoke up, “and she's probably better than Snape.”

They all looked at him with surprise. Hermione spoke first.

“Who, Draco?”

“My mother,” he replied, “It was something she had kept from everyone…even my father. I don't know why. The only reason why I know is because I lied to her once about sneaking treacle tarts from the kitchen when I was younger and she caught me.” He blushed red. “Needless to say I never dared lie to her after that nor did I try to keep secrets from her - Embarrassing, really.”

Hermione looked at him expectantly.

“Do you think she would help us?”

“All I can do is ask,” He said looking into Hermione's worried eyes.

McGonagall spoke up.

“You can use the flue in my office to contact her Draco and again to receive her if she wishes to join us.”

“Please,” Hermione whispered to Draco as she placed a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand.

“I'll do my best Hermione.” With that he turned and followed the Headmistress to her office leaving the rest behind to wait on pins and needles.

---@>---

He was there again…in that place, laying on the same hard white surface naked just like before.

He slowly opened his eyes to the dense swirling mist that surrounded him and, like before wished for something to cover himself up with.

The same warm, soft light grey cloak and trousers appeared. He rose and slipped into the clothes as the bright white, chrome and glass rendition of King's Cross Station began to take shape around him just as it did when he had faced the killing curse from Voldemort that night in the Forbidden Forrest.

The only thing missing this time was the flayed and raw looking infantile creature stuffed under a chair in the corner.

As he stood looking around, the same familiar chairs appeared. He half expected to see Albus Dumbledore stroll casually out of the mist once again but as he could not seem to gauge the passage of time correctly nothing seemed to be happening.

Harry strode over to one of the seats and fell into it. Those same unmistakable feelings of peace and serenity washed over him.

He wondered if this time he was supposed to catch a train…

Nothing outside the station moved or made noise that he could hear. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened to bring him to this place again. He couldn't seem to recall and for once it didn't seem to matter all that much but as he sat there in the still silence of the sparkling station a deep sense of emptiness washed over him.

He sat trying to analyze what was causing it when movement caught his eye at the edge of the mist that surrounded the vast open space of the station before him.

They were figures, quite a few of them, materializing out of the mist in front of him. He could not make them out at first but deep inside he knew who they were.

The first face he recognized was Sirius. He was the same youthful young man from the Resurrection Stone. Then came Dora, smiling as she stumbled on something he could not see. He couldn't help but laugh. Before he was aware of it - they were all there in front of him…

…Remus looking much younger slipped his arm around Dora, Ted Tonks, Cedric Diggory and his father, Mad-Eye Moody looking much less…mad with two good eyes and two good legs, Severus Snape still wearing his signature deprecating sneer, Rufus Scrimgeour, Fred Weasley. He could even see little Colin Creevey sneaking a peak around the same dark blue robes Albus Dumbledore had worn before.

They all stood smiling at him. He couldn't believe his eyes. He wanted to believe they were real but didn't dare. He moved tentatively forward reaching out but stopped. Whatever magic or spell this was he didn't want to do anything to break it and make the vision go away.

It was Sirius who saw Harry's apprehension. With a smile Sirius strode forward reaching out. Hooking Harry behind his head he pulled him into a warm embrace.

“I've missed you - we've all missed you so very much Harry,” Sirius whispered placing his head next to Harry's.

Harry clung to his Godfather with all his strength. He felt real and solid. Harry could feel the hard wiry muscles beneath the clothes.

Colin Creevey stepped in front of him with a huge grin.

“Thanks for all those nice things you said about me at my funeral Harry. You really helped my mum and dad to heal.”

“Least I could do Collin,” Harry smiled.

The next thing he knew they were all around him, holding him and touching him. As he reveled in their presence he looked past Severus' shoulder to see the beaming faces of his father and mother coming toward him out of the mist.

“I'm sure you are most anxious to see these two?” Severus said as he held out his arm in the direction of his parents coming up behind him. The corner of the old Potions Master's mouth twitched in what could only be described as his version of a smile.

His father came forward and grasped both his shoulders in his hands. He stood looking at Harry with unveiled pride. He saw his mother lay a gentle hand on Severus' cheek and offer him a blinding smile. They shared a warm embrace.

“It's so good to see you again son,” then his father pulled Harry to him and held him for what could have been and hour or just a moment. He couldn't tell.

When his father finally released him he stepped aside and standing in front of him just behind his father James was the one he was most anxious to see.

“Oh Harry,” his mother cried softly and fell forward into his arms. They held one another tightly as she kissed him softly on the cheek. She was warm and soft and smelled of lilac and lotus blossoms.

“Mum…” it was all he could choke out before tears blurred his vision. It was as if a dam had burst in his chest and eight years worth of stress, fear, sorrow and pain flowed from him like a tidal wave of grief. His body-wracking sobs shook him beyond his ability to control himself.

“Shhhh baby,” his mother whispered in his ear stroking his hair trying to calm him, “it's all right. It's going to be all right now son. It's over…it's all over now.”

Her words and her gentle rocking embrace lulled him back into a sense of peace once again. He had no idea how long he stood there but he would have been content to stay in his mother's arms forever.

It was as if she knew what he was thinking because she gently pulled away and held his hands smiling at him sadly.

“You cannot stay Harry,” his mother whispered, “You know this to be true, don't you?”

“I want to stay Mum, please,” Harry pleaded. What ever or where ever this place was he felt more at peace and more loved than he ever had in his short life. He had no desire to give it up.

Hadn't he earned this? Hadn't he done everything he was supposed to do and more? There was nothing he…

His thoughts hung as if suspended by magic. Harry turned to look at Albus Dumbledore and that same strange sense of emptiness filled him again.

Dumbledore just smiled and held his arm out gesturing to the mists beyond them. As his friends and family all began splitting apart to open a path in front of him Lilly let go of his hands and took a place at his side. His father appeared at his other side and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He could then hear a voice…faint at first but it grew steadily stronger. It was pleading, crying in anguish out of the mist. He knew that voice as it grew in strength.

He then realized his mother was right.

Hermione's likeness came out of the mist. She stood there looking around. It was if she could not see any of them. Her eyes were red and puffy from the tears that coursed down her cheeks. She let her head fall to her hands.

“Please Harry,” she cried, “Please don't leave me! I love you so much. I've just found you - you can't leave me now. Please don't go where I can't follow…”

Harry hung his head and closed his eyes. He felt his mother's warm soft hand fall gently on the back of his neck.

“Go to her Harry,” Lilly whispered, “The strength of what you two have is rare and precious and only comes once in a lifetime. We'll be here son. We'll be here waiting when you're ready to come home.”

Harry looked at her beautiful smiling face and her deep green eyes sparkled. He turned to look at his father who nodded in agreement.

“This is not your time Harry,” he said in a soft voice, “You still have so much left to accomplish.”

Sirius stepped in front of him blocking Hermione's crying image from his view. He put his hand on the side of Harry's face.

“You know if I had a girl like that waiting for me I'd fight like the dickens to get out of this place? It's not every day a man gets to love the cleverest witch of his age.” He winked at him flashing that famous roguish smile.

“No doubt about that Harry,” he heard Remus say from behind him.

Harry closed his eyes. He was torn but he already knew what he had to do. When he next opened them Albus Dumbledore was standing before him smiling sadly looking out at him over his spectacles.

“You are about to be faced with the most difficult struggle you'll ever encounter in your life Harry. All I can tell you is don't give up. Fight for what you know is rightfully yours…”

With that cryptic statement Harry suddenly felt very tired. His eyes drooped closed and it was if all his bones had turned to dust.

The next thing he realized he was plunged into utter darkness. He was aware but could see nothing, touch nothing. It was as if his body had left him or…he left his body behind.

He seemed to hang somewhere suspended in emptiness but he felt compressed like he was stuck in the midst of apparating between two places. It was uncomfortable.

He had fully expected to return to himself as he had done before but this…this nothingness was completely disconcerting.

He heard her voice again, this time much closer. He could see Hermione's face in what he could only guess was his mind's eye.

“Harry!” Her voice said, “Come back to me. You have to want to break free. I can't help you. You must want to return. You must fight! You must fight with all your strength…”

He couldn't understand what she was talking about. There was nothing but blackness, compressing black emptiness all around him pressing in on all sides.

But then he let her words sink into his conscious thought…

`You have to want to break free…'

He did want to break free! He certainly didn't want to stay in this place - what ever - where ever this was…

It was then he realized he must be trapped. In something or someplace that he must break out of…but how?

It was then he began to realize he could feel his hands, or what he thought were his hands. He could see nothing in the utter encompassing blackness.

As he reached out into the darkness he thought he could feel something. It was solid, like a wall but flexible, giving ever so slightly against the pressure of his hands. He pressed harder but the wall resisted. It gave but did not part.

With a sudden realization he could feel whatever it was that surrounded him was closing in tighter, constricting him in a smaller space.

He began to panic. With that he heard Hermione's voice again.

“Harry, you have to hurry! There's not much time…PLEASE! I love you!”

She began to sob terribly. He couldn't take it. He couldn't reach her or call out to her to comfort her. He had to break free…

Harry began to fight. He pushed forward. At first the walls refused to give but then with a monumental effort of his mind he lunged forward with all his might. When he did he saw a faint sliver of light appear before what he thought might be his eyes but he wasn't sure.

Then he was punching, throwing blow after blow at the wall in front of him. It gave a little more with each blow, showing him that same sliver of light.

He began punching harder, his hands pounding the rigid but flexible surface again, the blows booming in his mind's ear, deafening as they thundered through him. The sliver of light seemed to grow larger with each bone shattering blow.

“That's it baby, FIGHT!” Her voice screamed.

Now he was kicking with legs as well. He was battering the wall of darkness with every last bit of strength inside of him but he was beginning to tire.

`No! Don't give up!' It was his own voice spurring him forward.

With what could only be described as a Herculean effort he threw his right fist at the blackness and this time his fist went through. He threw his left at the same spot and it to split the surface of the darkness. With the last bit of strength that remained inside him he pulled, tearing at the blackness.

When the blackness gave way and the sliver of light appeared again pain like nothing he had ever experienced in his lifetime hit him like a blow to the face. He jerked his hands back, the blackness once again all around him.

He suddenly remembered Dumbledore's words…

“You are about to be faced with the most difficult struggle you've ever encounter in your life Harry…”

He was exhausted. His arms, if they were arms, felt like lead.

“No…Oh Harry…” Hermione's voice was weak. It seemed to be growing more distant. He was loosing her…

`NOOOOOOOO!'

The word echoed through his head like a gong.

He started fighting again, throwing bone-crushing blow after blow until he had both hands once again buried deep in the blackness. This time he pulled…hard.

The pain ripped through him as if he was being physically torn in half but he kept pulling.

He would NOT lose her!

When it felt as if he could simply take no more the wall finally gave way and bright light blasted through, piercing the darkness and flooding his consciousness with warmth. The crushing sensation of the darkness vanished and he fell forward onto something. It felt like two arms that carried him, laying him on something soft.

He still could not see but he knew, somehow he knew he was free…

---@>---

It seemed like hours to Hermione but it had been less then 45 minutes since she and Narcissa had entered into Harry's mind.

She sat staring blankly off into space, her beautiful face covered in sweat, shaking and shuttering as a concerned Draco held his mother's hand.

When at last she came out of her trance like state she had almost fallen out of her chair. Draco and Minerva McGonagall were there to assist her. She looked completely haggard and worn but she cast Hermione a weary smile and a nod.

A few moments later Harry Potter's eyes fluttered open briefly, giving Hermione a pained smile then fell back into a peaceful sleep.

Everyone in the Infirmary cheered and laughed and cried and jumped for joy…that is until Madam Pomfrey ran them all from the hospital ward with a dire warning, all but Hermione, Draco, Narcissa and McGonagall, Ron and one Romilda Vane.

To the utter shock of…well…everyone it seems the sultry little Gryffindor had become rather attached to Ron over the past few weeks. She insisted on staying with Her Ronny as she called him. When Madam Pomfrey began to protest the girl simply pointed at Hermione with a defiant glare.

The Headmistress could do nothing more than shrug her tired shoulders and roll her eyes at that point.

Ron, with his knee now mostly mended, was still a bit sore so he decided to remain over night. Madam Pomfrey said it wouldn't hurt him to have another few shots of Skel-o-grow just for good measure.

Narcissa was given a sleeping drought. She had spent an enormous amount of energy to break through the spells to get to Harry's Horcrux and she was very weak.

Hermione cried tears of pure joy as she watched the color return to Harry as he lay sleeping peacefully. Madam Pomfrey said he would probably wake up with a dragon-sized headache.

Hermione made her way over to where Draco sat quietly watching his mother sleep. She kneeled down next to him, placing a hand gently on his arm and looking up at him with one of her thousand-watt smiles.

“Thank you Draco,” she whispered, “for everything you've done for us today.”

He gave her a sideways grin.

“I didn't just do it for all of you, you know,” he replied, “I must admit watching that bastard's painting go up in flames was just what the Healer ordered.”

“Yes, well,” She said softly, “If it wasn't for you and your mum we would have lost him this time, I just know it.” She couldn't help the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes.

“I don't know Hermione,” Draco whispered patting her hand, “I'm beginning to wonder if the bloke can be done in at all.”

“Well I certainly don't want to find out ever again,” she urged emphatically.

Draco looked off into the distance of the infirmary for a moment then glanced back down at Hermione who had laid a hand on his mother's arm.

“Do you think he's gone for good this time?”

“Gods, I certainly hope so!” Hermione choked, “I'm getting to bloody old for all this nonsense!”

Draco had to cover his mouth to keep from bursting out in uncontrollable laughter.

Later, as most of the rest left and Hermione sat dozing lightly in a chair next to Harry's bed holding his hand she felt him stir.

She was jerked back to sobriety and saw him looking at her with a pained smile. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot but he was alive!

“Hey you,” he squeaked in a very raw voice.

It took every ounce of self control she possessed not to jump on top of him and snog him senseless. She leaned on the bed so she could stroke his cheek.

“I thought I'd lost you this time,” Hermione had to swallow a serious melon-sized lump in her throat before she could speak.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue again…” Harry said but Hermione stopped him with a shake of her head. Her smile was full of warmth and undeniable love but it was also touched with a hint of sadness as well.

“Not this time Harry,” she informed him, “It was Draco Malfoy and his mother who saved you…well, helped save you.”

That stunned Harry but his only reaction Hermione could see was the raising of one eyebrow. His head was pounding like a huge bass drum.

She nodded.

“As strange as it may sound it's the truth. Draco was instrumental in getting inside the Transfiguration classroom with Ronald. They got control of that…that…” she couldn't find a nice enough description of the woman so she just moved on, “anyway, after we all got in we discovered how to get you out of your Horcrux by using Legilimens. Luna figured that out. It was Narcissa who had the skill to get it done.”

“But I heard your voice in my head Hermione,” Harry said looking very confused.

“That was a nifty little trick no-one knew about until Narcissa arrived. She figured it might be possible to get to you through me. She went into my mind first, then we both went in after you. I didn't even know something like that was possible. It was really rough on her though. She's still out of it.”

“Is she here,” Harry asked, “Will she be ok?”

“Yes Harry,” she kissed his cheek gently, “Madam Pomfrey says shell be fine, she just very weak. I'll tell you everything when you get better. Sleep now love.”

“Will you stay with me?” Harry asked as he closed his eyes.

“I'm not going anywhere without you Potter,” she whispered as she settled on the bed next to him and snuggled into the crook of his arm, “better get used to that.”

“I think I can manage that mischief…” he whispered as he yawned widely.

“I think we've both managed enough mischief to last several lifetimes don't you Mr. Potter?” Hermione whispered closing her own eyes.

“Indeed Ms. Granger,” Harry mumbled drifting off to sleep once again.

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44. 44 - Slytherin A History

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 44 - Slytherin - A History

Zalina Sheryl Star (or who they later discovered to be Sallispell Slytherin) was not the only one in a bad mood after the latest brush with the barmy Dark Lord Voldemort…

Harry Potter found himself feeling very stupid by letting himself get trapped by something he felt he should have seen before it was too late. Everyone, including his Commander Kingsley Shacklebolt tried to reassure him it wasn't his fault but he was finding hard to reconcile his short-comings as a supposedly highly trained wizard.

Professor Hilliard Dervish felt like a blithering idiot for being taken in by what he had referred to as, `A pretty face,' and vowed to never fall in love again even though everyone tried to make him understand that he had been subjected to some fairly sever and powerful Legilimency and may have even been put under the Imperious curse but no-one knew for certain. He showed no outward signs of the Unforgivable curse after Zalina had been subdued.

Hermione Granger had to be physically restrained from not only throttling just about every Professor at Hogwarts for not teaching them what Slughorn had called Clinical-level magic, she also had to be kept from throwing herself off the Astronomy tower for missing what she called Hippogriff-sized clues and being completely helpless to save Harry's life.

She had been in an evil mood for a day or two until Harry grabbed her, took her to her bed chamber in the Head dorm and subjected her to a dose of her own brand of physical therapy. Even Peeves breathed a sigh of relief when she finally calmed down.

The poor gargoyle that protected the Headmistresses office paid the price for denying Hermione entrance during that dark period and ended up in even more pieces then he did during the final battle.

It took the combined effort of Professors Flitwick, Sinistra and Grubbly-Plank to put him back together and it was said the poor gargoyle had a slight tick in his right eye from that day forward…

But it was one Headmistress Minerva McGonagall who was inconsolable for letting the woman get past her. She had lamented to all the past Headmasters about feeling completely inept and foolish for being, what she had irritatingly considered, completely hoodwinked!

A snickering Albus Dumbledore's only response was… “No-one's perfect my dear Minerva!”… For which his image had then been completely denuded of every hair and whisker on his head.

Phineas Nigellus Black almost fell out of his painting laughing so hard telling Dumbledore he looked like the new Professor of the History of Magic, Atriums Croaker…a human version of an Edison light bulb!

Everard cackled that he looked like a shaved Chizpurfle! Dumbledore turned red as a tomato and decided to go visit his other portraits for a while after all that kerfluffle.

It was during the interogation after Hermione, Ron, Draco and a shocked Narcissa helped save Harry that the complete story and history of Zalina Star, a.k.a. Sallispell Slytherin came to the surface.

The details had stunned everyone so much Kingsley requested a secretary from the Ministry with a ream of parchent and several Quick-Quotes quills to come and record her complete story.

The tidalwave of information came out after Kingsley asked only a single question…

“Who are you really?”

“My real name is Sallispell Slytherin,” the woman began in confunded-sounding, slurring voice thick with the after-effects of the Virtilixer, “I was born in 1146 in Moldavia. I am the child of Salazar Slytherin's Granddaughter Hestonia. I have no idea who my father was.”

“I grew up in the ancient Forests of Maribor near what are now known then as the Aggresian Mountains. We were what you would call Gypsies, a nomadic peoples known for our magical abilities and skills.”

“Ours had been a peaceful existance and had long possessed a reputation for healing the sick and afflicted among the local populations of our region with our magic, potions and elixers. It had been our stock and trade and most wecomed us and traded with us willingly for the things we required to survive.”

Zalina's face turned dark and deadly as she continued speaking…

“It was after the arrival of the so-called Christian Church that we found ourselves branded evil and heretics and were hunted like animals. They turned the people against us when we refused to accept their religious beliefs!”

Tears began to fall from the beautiful woman's eyes as raw misery swept over her.

“It was in the year 1170. It was my twenty-fourth summer. We had followed the Drava River south to a place called Vukovar fleeing the death and destruction of the army of iron-clad knights but they had followed.”

“On the night of the Summer Equinox under a full yellow moon the Muggles caught up to us and raided our camp! Those despicable heathens passed judgment on us and sentenced us all to death! They had overpowered us as we slept but we knew nothing of war or how to fight. We were a peaceful people!”

“They tied me, my mother and father, two brothers and my sister, who was only in her tenth summer, to trees they had cut down and placed in the center of our camp and they meant to burn us to death! I could not stand it!”

“We were forced to watch as they beheaded my Grandmother before our very eyes. I believed then that my mother and I were the very last living direct descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and with our deaths the line would be broken and given over to his wife and sole heir, Illzadora Black!”

“I could not live with the thought our great and powerful Great Grandfather's name would be lost within the pages of history for all time.”

Zalina was sobbing pitifully now, her head down as tears of frustration, pain and hate coursed down her cheeks to splatter the dusty stone floor below the chair she was tied to.

“I watched as they lit the fires that consumed my family! I forced myself to see their faces as they gave themselves over to the agonizing death of being burned alive! I fought against my restraints and prayed with all my strength for deliverance from the madness.

“It was then, as the flames climbed my legs to catch my dress on fire that I strained with all my might and something happened…I was no longer within myself…but outside! I found myself hovering in the air just above my burning body as I watched myself being consumed by the flames.”

“I felt no pain! I was free! I realized very quickly that I was in my spirit form but had no idea how I was able to survive but as I lingered to watch the flames feed on the flesh that was my family I began to fade.”

“It was then I realized I needed to find another body to inhabit or I would cease to be. I have no idea how I was able to know these things but I was certain of it.”

“I cast myself to the nearest soldier and forced myself inside him but much to my dismay his body was ill suited to me and I felt filthy and disgusted. I was only able to linger within him long enough to travel to the near-by village of Olbesk-Varja. I forced him to obey my commands!”

“It was there I found the body of a young woman just entering her eighteenth summer and felt I could remain within her almost completely undetected but I was not happy with that arrangement.”

“In the beginning of this new incomprehensible liberation I realized I was only able to co-exist with my host bodies and before long they would began to rebel against my existence within them so I needed to find a way to take over completely.”

“After many attempts to force my host's existence out of their bodies I was able to create the necessary spells and incantations necessary to take over my hosts. It took many years to perfect. I discovered I was only able to inhabit the bodies of women near my age and only those who possessed a touch of darkness within their souls.”

“Those who possessed a pure spirit of goodness were too rebellious and resistant to my invasion and had the power to repel me even though they had no knowledge of what was taking place within them.”

“Centuries I hid, moving from host to host leaping across the vast emptiness of time until the day would come I could take my revenge on those who destroyed my family and besmirched the name of Slytherin!”

“I watched as the purity of our race was defiled by the very disgusting things that had destroyed everyone I loved. I searched and searched for a way to strike back.”

“It was late in the nineteenth century when I came across the name of Gaunt. I was surprised to find they were descendants of my Great Grandfather's name by marriage and therefore the only remaining living relatives outside the Black clan.”

“I found a body to inhabit that would get me close to these people and took the form of Elladora Black, a descendant of Salazar's wife Illzadora.”

“Even though her body aged and eventually died I managed to keep her name and identity by passing on through her descendants fooling even the ridiculous Muggle financial institution in Albania into believing Elladora still lived! It was my soul who remained after all, not hers!”

“I watched the filthy inbred Gaunt family until, in the early twenties, that disgusting Merope tricked the Muggle Tom Riddle Sr. into marrying him! She seduced him and in nineteen twenty six gave birth to her son, Tom Riddle Jr.”

“I watched Tom grow from a distance careful to keep my identity a secret and when Albus Dumbledore came to bring Tom to Hogwarts and the boy was sorted into my Great Grandfather's house I knew…I knew he was the one I would help to obtain greatness and bring about a cleansing of our race! I would help him restore the purity of our bloodlines and rid ourselves of the scourge of the Mudblood taint!”

“I took the body of a young Slytherin student named Agnes Bulstrode and subversively influenced the young Tom Riddle with dreams and visions using the talent of Legilimency I had learned through the centuries to be able to influence those around me to do my bidding!”

“After leaving Hogwarts I inhabited the body of Cassiopeia Black and began to teach him many skills through the years in order to prepare him for his quest to take over and dominate the wizard world!”

“It was I who taught him to inhabit that ridiculous sniveling Professor Quirrell but Tom had wanted to know more. He wanted the ability to evict a host's soul so he could learn to remain as I had done throughout the centuries but he was not ready for such knowledge and it would have destroyed him…but he was angry with me for keeping that secret from him.”

“It was that psychotic Bellatrix who convinced the Dark Lord I was attempting to undermine his power by keeping secrets so Voldemort had me banished and put a price on my head to have me killed. I was forced to flee and go into hiding. I was angry but I still believed in our goal.”

“It was then he revealed his plan to create those…those abominations called Horcruxes! It was stupid, dangerous and foolish but since I had been banished I could not convince him otherwise.”

“Severus Snape…the worm…assisted the Dark Lord in creating those foul things and I watched as Tom…the very one I had spent so much time and effort teaching the ways of dark magic…preparing him for his glorious future…I watched him sink further and further into madness!”

“It wasn't long until Albus Dumbledore realized what Tom had done and took steps to try and stop him. I tried to warn Tom but I had been banished and as long as that disgusting whore Bellatrix remained, he would not listen.”

It wasn't long until the Order of the Phoenix was born and a movement had begun to destroy all that I had created! I was desperate to help Tom gain the upper hand. It was I who convinced that filthy rat Pettigrew to betray the Potters! It was I who tried to undermine the subversive movement by convincing Cornelius Fudge Dumbledore was attempting to usurp his power!”

“Tom was too blinded by his lust for power and the unquenchable desire for immortality. I could have given it to him if he only would have been patient…but he was head-strong and impetuous and in the end…it cost him his life…and all my plans were RUINED!”

“It wasn't long until I remembered the secrets of the Riddle house. I had seen it in the mind of Severus Snape after I had taken the body you see before you. I wanted to become a woman no man could resist so I took this lithe and sensuous form so I could seduce Snape and try to influence the Dark Lord through him.”

“But Severus had been oh so clever! He had kept his own secrets and his skill at Occlumency was even more profound then my own! I was able to see Tom Riddle's portrait and even the cash of wealth that lay beneath the ruins of his disgusting Muggle relative's home but I had no use for wealth…”

“I alone persevered and it was I who came up with the plan to extract the essence of Voldemort from the young Tom Riddle's portrait and I was going to use the body of the very one who had been instrumental in the destruction of the LAST REMAINING MALE SLYTHERIN HEIR! I WANTED JUSTICE! REVENGE!”

Zalina strained madly against her spelled restraints as her face crumpled into terrible grief and pain as she fell silent, sobbing uncontrollably.

Kingsley and most of the others who were witnessing this unbelievable confession couldn't help but feel pity for what this woman had gone through and had been subjected to her whole life but even so…they all knew how dangerous this woman was.

In the end she was placed in a heavily warded and spelled iron box that would prevent her from leaving her present body and escorted under heavy guard to the bowls of the Ministry and held in a special cell prepared for her within the Department of Mysteries.

It was Arthur's hope she could be rehabilitated but Kingsley and most of the others held little hope for that prospect but the Minister was conviced enough to try. Harry Potter agreed with the Minister and requested she be treated with as much kindness as possible under the circumstances.

In the end it had been the combined effort of a rather dizzy little Ravenclaw girl and a former enemy of all things Gryffindore who were able to break through the centuries of hate and pregudice and helped Zalina {Sallispell} heal.

Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy came to visit Zalina regularly to assist in preventing her from having to meet the same fate as so many other dark wizards. No-one wanted her to have to walk the Vale.

The ancient Slytherin woman even revealed the location of her Great Grandfather's portrait and it had been transfurred to her quarters in the Department of Mysteries so she could talk to and confide in her hero and mentor.

Even the image of the great Salazar Slytherin finally admited, under the unbelievably powerful positive influence of Luna Lovegood, that he might have been wrong.

No-one knew how Luna and Draco were able to break through…they were all just glad they did.

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45. 45 - The Final Piece

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part 3

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 45 - The Final Piece

The Great Hall was filled with an air of excited anticipation as students, professors, officials from the Ministry, members of the Wizengamot and even the Hogwarts ghosts filed in to find a place to discover what this spectacle was supposed to be all about.

There had been rumors…of course.

Some minor details of the up-coming event had swept through the student body but no-one seemed to know just exactly what was going to take place. The only thing that everyone could agree on was…it was going to be special.

Many knew it had something to do with the new Dueling Club formed by the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and had become the most popular club at Hogwarts. Most all the students who were eligible entered the competition and to no-one's surprise the original members of Harry's old D.A. club faired better then most, with one surprising exception.

The seating placed around the perimeter of the Great Hall filled up quickly.

Hermione Granger knew what the pending event was all about. After all, it was her idea, of course but very few knew the real reason behind this exhibition. In her usual brilliant way she took a rather unusual problem and created a unique solution that would suit everyone's needs.

She sat on the edge of one of the many antique oak tables in the special room behind the Headmistresses table just off the Great Hall. She had been sequestered there along with Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy and the very special guest dueler Harry Potter.

Harry leaned back against Hermione captured between her knees with her arms draped casually over his shoulders. Since he had left the infirmary they had rarely been seen more than a few feet apart.

Ron had joked that Madam Pomfrey must have secretly put a sticking charm on them. Hermione hadn't thought that was remotely funny but had to reluctantly agree she was just a tad bit insecure at the moment. The prospect of loosing Harry had had a strange galvanizing effect of her so she was being a little more clingy and possessive than usual.

Harry didn't mind a bit. The nights spent in her dorm room undergoing what she called necessary physical rehabilitation was like heavenly bliss so who was he to complain.

Ron and Draco stood in front of them with arms folded engrossed in conversation about practical defensive spells.

They could hear the crowd filling the hall and could almost feel the energy building.

“So,” Ron looked pointedly at Hermione, “Are you finally going to tell me what this is all about?”

Hermione looked at Ron with her trademark devious little grin. She sighed.

“Oh I suppose I can let you in on the secret now.”

“I don't see why you had to keep me in the dark like everyone else anyway.” Ron said glumly.

“Because you're terrible at keeping a secret Ron,” Harry chuckled.

Ron scowled darkly at his best mate.

“I must admit,” Draco said, “the whole thing is quite brilliant but I suppose it's to be expected from the likes of our resident know-it-all.”

He smirked at Hermione, tossing her a sideways glance. Hermione just stuck her tongue out at him, grinning.

It amazed her how far they all had come. If Draco Malfoy would have made a comment like that to Hermione Granger in years past it would have incited at least an unpleasant verbal confrontation or at worst an out and out brawl.

This latest and hopefully last encounter with Tom Riddle had brought many ugly truths to the surface for them all. It was Draco who came out of it a completely changed person. He was finally able to see the truth without fear of reprisal from the Dark Lord and his minions.

With the help of some pragmatic common sense from Hermione Draco was able to look at life through a different set of eyes and discovered that hate, denial and fear solved nothing. So he moved forward now with an open mind and found acceptance from some very surprising and unlikely sources.

“Anyway, the problem…Draco's problem is that his wand no longer works properly for him and at the time I had no idea why. I was finally able to figure out how it all happened. I'm not sure I can even begin to understand it and I don't know if I can even explain it properly…”

“You know,” Ron said a bit stiffly, “I'm not completely thick Hermione!”

Hermione held up her hand to stall his griping.

“It's fairly complicated stuff Ron! It goes all the way back to when we were captured by Fenrir Greyback and his lot and taken to Draco's house, do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” Ron replied darkly.

“Well,” Hermione continued, “If you'll recall, when you escaped Harry managed to take Draco's wand from him in a round-a-bout sort of way as I discovered. Although none of us knew at the time, when a wand is taken by force it sometimes…switches allegiance to its new owner or at least it responds better to the person who captured the wand. If you recall our conversation with Ollivander at Shell Cottage that morning he said the very same thing.”

“Does that happen every time a wand is taken by force?” Ron asked

Hermione shrugged one shoulder.

“I'm not really sure to be perfectly honest. It all has to do with wand lore,” Hermione answered, “and I don't pretend to understand it all but my theory is when Harry took Draco's wand by force Draco's wand was…in a way…forced to do Harry's bidding. Conversely, even though Draco was given back his wand eventually its allegiance is still with Harry because of the way in which Harry acquired it…does that make sense?”

“Erm…I guess,” Ron replied but still looked confused.

“It's rather difficult to explain in simple terms, I'm just reciting what Ollivander told me when I wrote him and asked him about it a few months back.” Hermione bit her lip in thought but then an idea occurred to her, “I think it would help to consider the Elder Wand?”

“Erm…why?” Ron asked.

“Well this situation is basically the same,” Hermione explained, “You see, the Elder Wand didn't work properly for Voldemort because he had not taken the wand from Dumbledore by force. He just broke into the Headmaster's tomb and took it. The last person to take that particular wand by force was…” Hermione held a hand out toward Draco.

“Right,” Ron said, “I think I get it now. Draco took the wand from Dumbledore that night up on the astronomy tower so the Elder Wand's allegiance was transferred to Draco.”

“Exactly,” Hermione smiled but Ron still looked puzzled, “What?”

“Ok,” Ron continued, “I understand that part and now I think I understand how Draco's wand shifted to Harry but what I don't understand is how Harry got the allegiance of the Elder Wand. It doesn't make sense. If the Elder Wand's allegiance was still with Draco when Voldy had it then how did it get transferred to Harry?”

Hermione smirked in her all-knowing - I can't believe you're this thick - way.

“It never did!” She said grinning smugly.

Ron's brows wrinkled.

“Now wait just a…”

It was Harry's turn to enlighten his best mate.

“It was the fact Voldemort didn't have the allegiance of the Elder wand that did him in. It was still with Draco when we faced one-another that night. It was how I was able to defeat him with a simple spell. He had been so weakened by splitting his soul it didn't take much to finish the job once all the Horcruxes were out of the way.”

“That's exactly right,” Hermione added, “and, if my theory about the Hallows is accurate, just the fact Harry had possessed all three gave him the power he needed to do the job. He was, at least for a short time, the true Master of Death.”

Ron's face crumpled into a sneer. Draco looked completely stunned speechless.

“Well Harry,” Ron scoffed, “There's another title you can add to that long list of yours!”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Much to her surprise she found that, after the last few weeks she didn't want to think about any of those things anymore. She had spent half her life analyzing things, researching, studying clues and looking for answers. At present she just wanted to move forward without having to look over her shoulder to see who was in pursuit or trying to kill them.

She thought maybe it was why the changes in Draco seemed so prophetic and important. He was one of the few who remained to remind them of what had been. The fact she could now count him among one of them helped put all those dark days behind her and the fact that her boys accepted those changes in him was monumental in helping them all move forward.

If it took preparing an elaborate spectacle to help put some of the pieces back into place then she felt it was well worth the trouble.

“It's like what old Ollivander told me the day I got my wand,” Harry added. “He said the wand chooses the wizard. I just thought he was being all mysterious and scary but…well, I was just a muggle then. What did I know?”

They all laughed.

“That's true,” Hermione added, “but it doesn't always work that way. If you remember Bellatrix' wand didn't work all that well for me.”

“True,” Harry said, “But that's because you didn't take it from her. I did.”

“Well,” Hermione conceded, “That's right. I suppose I didn't take that into consideration.”

“Yes…yes,” Ron blustered, “That's all very well and good but why this whole big production? Why are these two dueling in front of the entire school?”

“Oh for Merlin's sake Ron,” Hermione huffed, “Do we have to spell out every little detail for you?”

“Well excuse me for being the daft one!” Ron sneered.

“Hang on,” Harry said, “Weren't you the one who just told Hermione you weren't that thick?”

“Oh, stuff it Potter!” Ron groused.

Draco burst out laughing.

“Well…use that barmy coconut of yours Ronald,” Hermione quipped, “Draco wants his wand to work for him again. In order for that to happen he'll have to duel Harry for it and take it back by force. If I know either of them half as well as I think I do the thought of dueling one-another out of hate and anger no longer applies,” she looked expectantly between Harry and Draco, “am I right?”

Harry and Draco both nodded in agreement.

“So what I came up with was this idea for a dueling exhibition with the new Hogwarts Dueling Club so they can battle one-another in a controlled setting, put on a really good show of defensive magic for the school and…well…have some fun doing it. The best part is no-one has to get hurt. At one point during the duel Harry will be distracted by… something and Draco will take his wand back. Since Harry won't actually allow Draco to take the wand its allegiance should return to Draco.”

“You know,” Ron laughed, “Sometimes you're so bloody brilliant it's absolutely terrifying Hermione.”

Harry turned his head to look at her beautiful smiling face. He took her chin gently in his hand and kissed her softly.

“You're absolutely right Ron.” Harry grinned.

Ron made a face like he was about to wretch.

Draco looked pointedly at Harry.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Harry.”

“No problem,” Harry smiled, “I appreciate what you did to help us. I think Hermione's spot on. It made all the difference this time.”

“That was an easy choice to make. I think I'm just as sick of all the dark magic tripe as you are.”

“That may be so Draco,” Hermione added, “but you still didn't have to.”

“Maybe,” Draco's gaze dropped to his shoes, “but I still think it was the right decision. That doesn't mean I'm going to take it easy on you out there today Potter.”

“I'd be disappointed if you did,” Harry grinned.

Hermione blanched and went rigid.

“Now see here you two,” Hermione said as she shoved Harry out of the way and launched herself off the table. She stood glaring at Harry and Draco, “You need to stick to the original script. That's why we spent all that time practicing and rehearsing remember? No improvisation or-I-swear…” Hermione stomped her foot pointing at both grinning boys with a deadly slit-eyed glare, “I'll curse the bullocks off both of you! There's going to be too many people out there to be careless with your magic. I don't want anyone getting hurt by stray curses or…”

“Oh Hermione…For Merlin's sake,” Ron yelled, “Do shut up!”

Hermione froze, mid-lecture, finger pointing at Harry's nose.

Both Draco and Harry turned white and began backing away from her. They could see her head slowly begin to turn a horrid shade of dark purple.

When Hermione turned to look at Ron she had a look on her face that was almost demonic. His blood froze.

“Now…erm…I didn't…Don't you,” Ron spluttered as he started backing away from her himself holding his hands up as if to prevent some invisible pending collision.

Hermione said nothing as she whipped out her wand and with a twisting flourish she conjured two hideous looking spiders the size of large dogs.

Ron saw the spiders and screamed like a girl. He spun on his heal and bolted.

“Sick him!” Hermione growled. The two spiders tore off after him.

Harry and Draco watched, howling with laughter as the spiders chased Ron all over the room. Just as he was tearing past the door that led out into the Great Hall it opened. Headmistress McGonagall was just stepping into the room when Ron whipped past her in a screaming blur.

“Help!” He screamed when he saw McGonagall.

The old professor jumped slightly as the two spiders ripped past her hot on Ron's heels.

“See here,” McGonagall said with her hand over her heart, “What is the meaning of this?”

McGonagall produced her own wand and with a flick the two spiders exploded into puffs of dark grey smoke.

Ron collapsed at Hermione's feet gasping for breath. She looked down at Ron scowling fiercely.

“How fortuitous…FOR YOU!”

Headmistress McGonagall looked around at all of them with eyebrows raised.

Harry and Draco tried to hide their hysterical laughter but failed miserably. Hermione tried to look ashamed of herself but was still too irritated to pull it off. Ron looked pale like he was about to throw up as he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

“Does anyone care to explain?” McGonagall asked then seemed to change her mind, “Never mind. I'm not certain I care to know.”

She moved into the room and closed the door behind her.

“I wish to speak to you for a moment regarding this…event that is about to take place. Specifically to you and you,” she pointed at Harry and Draco in turn, “While I realize I issued my permission for you to undertake the pending exhibition I feel compelled to remind you both this is indeed nothing more than an exhibition of competent and reliable defensive magic. Are we clear on that distinction Mr. Potter…Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes, Headmistress,” they both said as one.

“While I am very pleased there has been a…reconciliation of sorts between you I want to also remind you I take the safety and security of this school and all who reside within very seriously. If I perceive there is any danger to those in attendance at any time I will put a stop to this exhibition at once, is that also quite clear?”

They all nodded.

“Very well,” McGonagall looked at them sternly for a moment, “See that you remember.”

As the Headmistress stood looking at the four of them her demeanor seemed to shift from one of rigid authority to something that struck them as detached fondness.

“On a more personal level,” she said softly, “I don't believe I've taken the opportunity to thank you…all of you for what you have done, not only for this school but for our world as a whole. I don't think any of us could have foretold the events that have taken place in the last several weeks. You all have once again stepped forward with exceptional intelligence, valor and bravery.”

“As you all know I've been a part of this institution for almost fifty years and I have seen many, many students come and go through these halls.”

The look they saw in the Headmistresses eyes was one of both fond memory and pride.

“It has been my policy over the years to try not to get too…personally involved with my students but that is…quite difficult…if not completely impossible at times.”

“As I stand here with you four I cannot help but be filled with a sense of unabashed pride. Albus was right in his assessment of you from the beginning.”

That statement made all of them gape at the old Headmistress in wonder, glancing at one-another smiling.

“Yes,” McGonagall said, “Albus Dumbledore knew long before any of us that you four would make the difference between, how did he put it?” She placed a finger to her lips in thought, “Ah yes, `doing what was right instead of what was easy.' He told me not long after he placed you, Harry into the care of your Aunt and Uncle you all would make the difference one day. He said you would shape the future of our world…” tears began to flow down the old transfiguration professor's withered cheeks, “and I must say…he was absolutely correct.”

“It has been both an honor and a privilege to have had a hand in molding you into the fine young adults you have become. My only regret is that I will miss you terribly after the year is done. You have been a constant source of joy, inspiration, challenge and yes, even irritation at times throughout the years but I must say it has all been worth it.”

As they all stood there speechless for a moment, it was Hermione who was compelled to act first. With her vision blurred by her own tears she moved forward and much to the surprise of the Headmistress took the seemingly frail old women in a warm, gentle embrace.

Before any more could be said the rest followed Hermione's lead. Before McGonagall knew it she was surrounded by her four brightest and most beloved charges.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she laid a withered hand on each one's cheek gently, “thank you so much.”

“It's us who should be thanking you professor,” Hermione sniffed. The others agreed.

The headmistress slowly regained her composure as well as her authoritative, if not quite as rigid demeanor and stepped back, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Very well then,” she eyed them over her tiny spectacles sniffling slightly, “They should be ready for you shortly. I'll leave you to your preparations. Professor Dervish will send for you when all is in order.”

With that Headmistress McGonagall moved to exit the room. Before she crossed the threshold she stopped and looked back at the four of them.

“While I know we are all looking forward to the days of peace and prosperity ahead I must admit with some small amount of guilt that with all that has taken place in the recent past, the years ahead look rather…well, mundane.”

Headmistress McGonagall gave them a mysterious little smirk…then she winked.

The door closed and she was gone.

They all stood speechless for a moment looking at one-another lost in their own thoughts about what had just taken place. They had seen a side of their old transfiguration professor they never thought they would and it was quite disconcerting. Finally Hermione was the one who broke the silence.

“Well that was…” She said looking around at the others.

“Yah…” Ron replied.

Just then a rather overly-excited Professor Dervish poked his head into the room.

“Five minutes everyone and I'm going to start the introductions,” he beamed, “Are we ready?”

Harry looked at Draco who grinned and nodded. Harry turned to Professor Dervish, “I believe we're as ready as we'll ever be Professor.”

“Excellent!” He practically hollered as he dashed off.

Hermione came up to Harry and enfolded him in her arms. They kissed deeply then she looked up at him with nothing but pure love in her sparkling brown eyes.

“I know you'll be brilliant,” she whispered, then turned to look at Draco, “both of you.”

“Yah mate,” Ron clapped Draco on the shoulder, “if you two don't destroy the bloody school again in the process.”

Out in the Great Hall the stage was set. All the spectators had found their seats. The Head table was full. V.I.P.'s and other dignitaries from the Ministry were all gathered around the low dueling platform set in the center of the hall.

The same platform was in place for the event. The entire room seemed to vibrate with anticipation filled with the buzz of excited conversations.

As everyone watched, the ever-flamboyant Professor Dervish sprang up onto the platform walking the length quickly with his arms raised high. A collective hush seemed to fall over the entire hall at his presence.

He looked toward the Headmistresses table where McGonagall was just taking her seat at the center of the table. She gave Professor Dervish a curt nod.

Grinning widely, he looked around at all the eager faces in the crowd. He knew this was going to be such a monumental event folks would be talking about it for years.

The Professor pulled his wand with a flourish, placed the tip to his throat and whispered “Sonorus.” His magically amplified voice echoed throughout the hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, students, professors, dignitaries, members of the Ministry…Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and a very special edition of the new Hogwarts Dueling Club!”

The entire hall went crazy with cheers and applause.

Again he raised his hands and the crowd quieted.

“Thank you…thank you,” he boomed, “Now, it is my very great pleasure to introduce you to our first participant in today's event. He is the current Prefect of Slytherin House, he played a pivotal roll in dispatching the most recent dark threat to our world, he is the current reigning champion of the Dueling Club and having been victorious against all challengers throughout the year could only be described as a master at the art of defensive magic…Mr. Draco Malfoy!”

The reception for Draco could only be described as mixed. While the professors, dignitaries and members of the Ministry all applauded him with appropriate enthusiasm most of the students vaguely regarded him with a rather weak acknowledgement. Slytherin House, on the other hand went wild when they heard his name. Pansy was right down front leading the cheers.

As Draco made his way to the platform he glanced at Pansy as he passed. His heart pinched as he saw her mouth the unmistakable words `I love you Draco!' as he moved through the crowd.

He tried to recall briefly why he had pushed her aside. Things were quite different for him at the beginning of the term. He had been in a very dark place then, even darker than in previous years.

The events over the past several months had a profound effect on him. He felt he had shed much of the emotional guilt and burden of years past. As he spied Hermione and Ron edging their way toward the platform out of the corner of his eye he could see they were applauding and cheering just as loudly as the Slytherins. He thought about part of a conversation he had with Hermione back when the term had just begun. He marveled at the effect her words had on him then.

“I guess what I'm saying is we've all made choices that effected the outcome of this conflict. I've been stunned, cursed, tortured at the hands of your spell-damaged Aunt, ostracized, insulted, and run out of my world…but would do it all again if it was necessary to have a life of peace without fear. That's the difference between us Draco.”

“I'm not going to pretend you and I could ever be friends. There's just too much that has happened between us that can easily be put aside. I'm not sure I could be quite that forgiving.”

But somehow, even after all that had happened over the years, she had managed to do just that.

Now, stepping up onto the dueling platform in the midst of fellow students, peers and those he had come to count among his friends, he finally realized she had gotten it right, all of it. He couldn't help but smile.

He approached Professor Dervish who held out his hand in greeting. Draco took it in his and shook. The smiling Professor clapped Draco heartily on the back and raised his other hand to the crowd.

“Congratulations Draco, well done!”

Draco nodded thanks to the Professor.

“And now,” The Professor said loudly as he stepped away from Draco's side slightly. The entire hall went almost completely silent.

“For what I know you've all been waiting for! The challenger for today's special event and grand finale of the Hogwarts Dueling Club, he's a former student, former Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and the youngest Seeker in a century, youngest competitor in the history of the prestigious Tri-Wizard Tournament and co-winner…”

It seemed everyone was sitting on the very edge of their seats.

“Team member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's new E-Spec Division, the one Which Witch penned long ago as `The Boy who Lived' and the one who was instrumental in the destruction of the darkest wizard of all time…not once…but twice! It is with great pleasure and honor I have the privilege to introduce to you…”

Professor Dervish paused dramatically. He chuckled to himself as he watched almost everyone holding their breaths.

“The one…the only…Harry Potter!”

As expected the entire hall exploded. The noise was deafening. The din seemed to rattle the buttress rafters of the Great Hall itself. The Hogwarts portraits, ghosts, statues and suits of armor were cheering right along with everyone else.

Even Peeves got in on the celebration. He flew high above the roaring crowd towing a banner that read;

Potty…Potty he's our boy!

Potty will destroy Malfoy!

Harry was standing by the open door of the room behind the head table listening to his introduction. He could do nothing more than shake his head resigned to the fact that he could do nothing to stop it. He couldn't make them all understand that, while he may have done all those things Professor Dervish spoke of in the intro, Harry had never viewed them as accomplishment. The things he had done were because he had to or he had no choice or, as some might say, got really, really lucky.

But as he stood there listening to the roar of a thousand voices cheering for him he realized that no matter what Harry thought of himself or how he had seemingly fumbled through the last eight years of his hapless life those people, his friends, his peers and those he looked up to, believed in him.

Then the reality of what had happened over the past years finally set in.

He had done it. With the help and sacrifice of so many he had rid the world of a dangerous darkness and evil that promised to consume everything he had come to know and love.

His life before Hogwarts, before magic…before her…now seemed like someone else's faded memories.

Harry's eyes scanned the throng and finally found the one person who knew him better than any other.

She was watching him. Standing still, arms folded tightly under her wonderful breasts.

While the crowd that surrounded her celebrated him cheering, shouting and screaming, Hermione stood looking at him with that warm, loving smile he had come to know so well. The smile that filled him with so much warmth and love the likes he had never known before in his life.

She had survived. That was all that mattered to him at that moment. She had made it through the darkness with him and they would face a future filled with the promise of the unknown together.

As his eyes stayed locked with hers for that brief moment he realized an undeniable truth…

I'd do it all again if I had to…for her…

Hermione's smile widened and her head snapped sideway beckoning him.

Because…It was all worth it!

As soon as everyone saw Harry making his way around the Head table out into the hall the place exploded with even more noise and cheering.

He glanced up to see Peeves holding his big poltergeist ears making raspberries at them all far below.

As he passed a beaming Hermione at the edge of the platform he stole a quick kiss then leaped up onto the platform waving shyly to the roaring crowd. He felt awkward and completely out of place. If it wasn't for a good cause he would have never agreed to this spectacle.

Hermione watched some of the underclass girls swooning and crying at Harry's appearance. She just chuckled and rolled her eyes. She elbowed Ron.

“Would you look at them?” She huffed, “How ridiculous!”

Ron glanced at her with a smirk.

“Oh yah, you're right,” he said loudly over the noise of the crowd, “You'd think Gilderoy Lockhart was here or something!”

Hermione blanched then her cheeks flushed bright red. She huffed at Ron then turned to face the platform glancing clandestinely at him out of the corner of her eye.

Ron just turned to watch the introductions with an exceedingly smug look on his face.

As Harry joined Draco and Professor Dervish on the platform Draco scowled and backed away a few paces. Harry eyed him suspiciously suddenly wondering what was going on.

Professor Dervish didn't seem to notice anything odd as he greeted Harry with a warm handshake and smile.

“Welcome Harry…welcome!” Professor dervish held up his hand once more and a profound silence fell over the hall. All eyes were glued to Harry and the Professor but Harry couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from Draco's now snarling face. He was tense, rigid with what looked to Harry like anger.

“It is an honor to have you here to partake in this competition,” Professor Dervish said, Are you looking forward to dueling today?”

“Erm…Yes, thank you,” Harry replied hesitantly.

The crowd exploded again at his response. When they quieted down again it was Draco who spoke.

“Yes,” Draco said loudly, “I'm sure the famous Harry Potter is looking forward to being humiliated in front of everyone he knows!”

Professor Dervish glanced nervously at Draco for a moment.

“Y…yes, I'm sure we're all in for a fine exhibition of extremely advanced defensive magic. Are you ready to begin Harry?”

Harry nodded.

Professor Dervish backed away and stood between the two duelers.

“Very well then let the competition begi…”

Before the Professor could finish his statement Draco moved forward like lightning, his face a twisted mask of rage, wand whipping in a graceful arc. A blinding green flash sent Professor Dervish flying backwards over the crowd.

“Enough of this drivel,” Draco growled, “Time for everyone to see what you're really made of Potter!”

Everyone seemed to gasp at once.

It was Hermione who caught a shocked and bewildered Professor Dervish with a cushioning charm. She gaped at the stage along with the rest of the crowd.

Draco sent a curse flying at Harry but his months of training took over instantly. Harry expertly deflected the curse sending it flying up into the rafters far above.

Everyone cheered. That seemed to cause Draco to darken even more.

“That all you got Malfoy?” Harry taunted.

“I've not even warmed up yet Wonder Boy!”

That comment made Harry's eyebrows rise.

Draco sent a stunning curse at Harry so fast that he had to fall flat on the platform to dodge it. He answered with a counter spell that caught Draco in the midsection.

The crowd gasped again. As they watched, Draco's trousers suddenly fell down in a crumpled heap around his ankles.

The whole place exploded in riotous laughter and squeals. Draco's face turned blood red as he quickly fumbled for his pants.

“No need to get your bloomers in a twist Malfoy!” Harry laughed.

In the blink of an eye Draco hit Harry with a well placed jinx. Harry's cloak came to life and grew two brawny arms that swept the cloak over his head, wrapped him up tightly and flipped him over forward and onto his back on the platform.

“You really need to get a hold of yourself Potter!” Draco sneered.

Back and forth the curses, jinxes, spells, hexes and witty verbal barbs flew back and forth.

Everyone was captivated and amazed at the skill and power of the two young men. There was no question in anyone's mind that Draco Malfoy was certainly capable of holding his own against one of the greatest young wizards of the day.

At one point Draco conjured a great golden flaming eagle and sent it soaring straight for Harry. Harry answered by conjuring a large net made of what looked like strands of thin silvery smoke. When the eagle hit the net it was cleaved into small squares as it passed through and dissipated into smoke just before it struck Harry.

The whole hall sat on the edges of their seats shouting Oooh's and Aaah's at every incredible feat.

Harry and Draco danced around one-another dodging and deflecting. They jumped into the crowd, moving all over the Great Hall trying to get inside each-other's defenses neither giving up anything.

At one point Draco hit Harry with a well placed Jelly-Leg jinx. As Harry's legs flopped wildly for a moment one of the younger Gryffindor girls stood up and hollered at Draco.

“You can't do that to the great Harry Potter!” She lifted her wand but before she could act Draco flicked his wand in her direction.

Suddenly the girl's long brown hair attacked her. It swirled around her until it twisted into a neat bow tied at the very top of her head.

The crowd went crazy with laughter and cheers.

Draco eyed the Headmistresses table to see if he had overstepped the boundaries of the rules but McGonagall just gave him a severe glare and nothing more.

As the duel dragged on the spells and curses became more serious, complicated and intense.

At one point Draco had Harry caged in what looked like an iron box but Harry got out of it by transfiguring it into a dozen sharply pointed paper airplanes and sent them screaming right at Draco.

In a most impressive display of wandless magic Draco hit the little projectiles with what appeared to be a concussive blast from his hand, the wave of energy also knocked Harry off the end of the platform.

With a flip and a twist Harry landed on his feet on the floor. He countered by slamming his open palm on the end of the wooden platform. The magic caused a large wave to roll the length of the surface of the platform toward Draco and before he could react was being tossed backward to the floor himself.

They both jumped back on the platform. They started moving slowly toward one-another throwing curse after curse, spell after spell, each dodging or deflecting or counter-acting each other with perfect timing.

The Great Hall was filled with the blinding flashes of red and green light. Energy seemed to sweep through the hall as it built up between the two dueling figures.

As they got closer to each other a vortex of smoky mist began to gather around them as they dueled fiercely. Both their faces sweating masks of concentration with deadly gazes locked together.

When they were about ten yards apart something suddenly appeared between them. It was a dark mass of black smoke that billowed and flowed, slowly taking shape.

When the smoke solidified it had taken on the form of a Dementor. Harry's eyes bulged. He jumped back reflexively loosing his balance. He landed flat on his back.

In that split second after the Dementor formed Harry froze with that ever-familiar sense of dreaded fear.

It was Draco who took advantage of Harry's sudden paralysis. With a flick of his wand he shouted “Expelliarmus!”

Harry's wand flew from his grasp and landed neatly in Draco's outstretched hand held high above his head so everyone could see it.

The entire Great Hall went a silent as a tomb.

The entity that appeared as a Dementor popped and disappeared. The swirling vortex of mist and energy dissipated.

There was nothing left but the two young men on the platform.

Draco stood in triumph for a moment glaring at Harry with an evil sneer. Suddenly he rushed forward and pinned Harry to the platform with his wand pointed right at Harry's nose.

The whole crowd gasped in fear, frozen right on the edge of their seats.

Draco's face was a mask of what could only be described as raw rage and malicious hate. His chest heaved and his teeth were clenched.

No-one moved. No-one dared blink or even breathe.

Harry's face remained impassive and neutral. He kept his gaze locked on Draco's haunted eyes. Harry raised his hands slightly.

“You won Draco,” he said loud enough so everyone could hear, “You've defeated me fare and square.”

They remained that way for a few more heartbeats.

Then, slowly but very perceptively Draco's face changed. His dark, sneering gaze morphed first into a look of mild amusement then broke out into a huge, wide grin.

He dropped his wand away from Harry's nose. As he did so he extended his free hand out, leaning down toward Harry.

Harry answered Draco's smile with one of his own as he clasped hands with his dueling partner and with a heave pulled Harry to his feet.

While Draco was leaning over Harry with his free hand extended he covertly slipped Harry's captured wand…His wand…into a secret pocket Hermione had sewn into the inner folds of his Hogwarts robe. Stashed inside the pocket was Harry's real wand. When Draco slipped his inside he pulled Harry's wand out.

Now the two young men were standing facing one-another on the platform with tired smiles on their faces.

They could hear the crowd whispering and murmuring to one-another in confusion.

“Well done Draco,” Harry whispered, “That was some brilliant spell work.”

“Thanks,” Draco beamed, “You weren't so bad yourself! Just feels good to have my wand back.”

Harry smiled and recalled what it felt like after he was able to repair his broken wand. He looked at Draco and nodded.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

With that Draco flipped Harry's wand in the air and caught it tip-first.

The whole crowd gasped again not sure what to expect next.

He then extended the wand to Harry and Harry took it in his hand, looked at it for a second smiling, then shoved his beloved wand in his pocket.

What happened next would be talked about for generations. It was a simple gesture but looked upon by many as one of the most profound in recent Wizard history. It was a healing of a rift, of sorts. It was a bridging of a gap that had manifested itself by hate, prejudice and intolerance over the ages within the secret society of magic.

Draco held his hand out to Harry.

In front of everyone that mattered to them both. In front of many of the most important in their world…

Harry reached out and took Draco's hand in his and shook it warmly.

To say that the Great Hall erupted in a volcano of cheers, screams and applause would have been a gross understatement.

Everyone was on their feet.

They looked around as a mass of people rushed the stage.

Harry clapped Draco on the shoulder.

“That's for you, you know. You won the day. Congratulations!”

Draco laughed and looked around. Slytherin House started chanting DRACO…DRACO…DRACO!

It didn't take long until the rest of the crowd joined in. Harry stepped back applauding Draco as well.

Hermione and Ron were suddenly there. She stood in front of Draco smiling widely.

“You were brilliant,” she hollered over the din.

“Thanks.” He said. He held out his hand to her but she swatted it away and pulled him into a warm embrace.

“You have no idea how glad I am that I can now consider you a friend. I'm so proud of you Draco,” she whispered in his ear. Hermione stepped back and let well-wishers and fans take him over in a crush of pressing bodies. Ron stepped forward giving him a high-five.

Professor Dervish fought his way through the throng to Draco's side. He grabbed his hand and hoisted it in the air. His still-magnified voice boomed all around them.

“The winner of the first annual Hogwarts Dueling Club finally…Draco Malfoy!”

He pressed a huge golden cup trophy into Draco's surprised hands. It had his name magically engraved on a plaque at the base. Draco hoisted it above his head and the crowd went wild.

As they watched Draco receive his much deserved glory for winning the tournament Harry and Hermione silently faded into the background. Harry wanted Draco to have this moment and not be there to draw attention away from it. As they made their way through the crowd toward the stairs to the hall people patted him on the back and stopped to chat them up a bit.

As they drifted away from the platform Harry felt a warm, soft hand fall lightly on the back of his neck. He turned abruptly to see Narcissa Malfoy staring at him with a sad smile on her beautiful face.

“Thank you Harry,” she said softly, “This is a wonderful thing you did for my son.”

“Your welcome Mrs. Malfoy but the truth is, it wasn't my idea,” he glanced toward Hermione who was engaged in conversation with Hagrid and Professor Slughorn, “It was Hermione who put this all together.”

Hermione heard her name and turned to see Narcissa standing with Harry. Narcissa smiled warmly at Hermione.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Granger. Draco told me you were responsible for many of his…changes over the past year. He admitted he was wrong about you. We all were.”

“You owe me nothing Mrs. Malfoy. You helped save Harry more than once. I'm the one who owes you a debt of gratitude and I had very little to do with the changes in Draco. He did that all on his own.” Hermione beamed.

“None the less,” Narcissa stated, “I want you to know both of you are always welcome at the Malfoy home if you choose to visit some day. It may please you to know that Andromeda and I are getting on much better these days. We've been able to overcome many of our differences. I never realized how much I missed her. I suppose it sometimes takes great loss and tragedy in our lives to make us see the truth and the error of our ways.”

“That's wonderful Mrs. Malfoy. I know that Andromeda has missed her sisters as well.”

“Yes, well. If you'll excuse me I'm going to go congratulate my son. He seems to be somewhat of a hero at present. I don't want it to go to his head.” She smiled at them as she moved off toward the stage behind them.

Hermione glanced back and saw that Pansy had made her way onto the platform to stand in front of Draco. She looked terribly sad as she gazed up at him with pleading eyes. Draco did nothing more than look at her for a moment then a warm smile spread across his face and he gathered her up into a bone crushing hug. The kiss that followed was intense enough to make Hermione blush.

Well done Draco…

As Harry and Hermione finally managed to turn out into the deserted hallway she looked up at him as they made their way arm in arm toward the staircase.

“So Mr. Potter,” she glanced up into his face, “where do we go from here?”

Harry thought about that for a moment then looked into Hermione's sparkling eyes.

“You know, I don't really care,” he answered, “as long as wherever we go, we go together.”

Hermione smirked.

“Oh, very good answer Potter,” she chuckled rubbing his chest, “However…for the present, I was thinking we could…oh I don't know…go inspect the bed chamber in my Head dorm room again.”

The look she gave Harry made the blood heat up throughout his whole body.

“Tell me something though,” Harry asked.

“Tell you what Harry?” Hermione looked at him quizzically.

“How did you conjure such a realistic Dementor like that? It was almost as good as the real thing.”

Hermione snorted as she stared at him for a moment.

“What?” Harry stopped, glaring at her grinning face.

“I didn't conjure anything Harry. That was the Bogart from the cabinet in the D.A.D.A. classroom. When the time came Ron went to the classroom and opened the cabinet under your invisibility cloak. When the Bogart came out it couldn't find anyone to attach itself to. Ron captured it with a binding spell I taught him and dragged the thing kicking and screaming into the Great Hall. We basically shoved it up there on the platform between you and Draco. Draco used a shield charm to keep the Bogart from attacking him so the next logical choice in the madhouse of the Great Hall full of people was…”

“Me,” Harry finished for her. She nodded.

“I found out a bit of useful information about Bogarts a while back. Seems they have a tendency to imprint on those they come in contact with. The more you face a Bogart the more they tend to remember you. In the case of that particular Bogart, I knew it would remember you more than anyone because of all the practice you did trying to learn to cast your Patronus.”

Harry marveled at her for a moment.

“You know Ron's right,” He chuckled, “Sometimes you are down right scary smart.”

As they continued to move on down the hall they heard a familiar voice behind them.

“Oy,” Ron shouted, “Just where do you two think you're going?” He started moving toward them up the hall.

“Speak of the devil,” Hermione mumbled.

“A little peace and quiet Ron,” Harry replied.

“Oh, I see. Don't want to hang about and get mobbed by your adoring fans?” He laughed.

“I think Draco's got that well in hand,” Hermione said.

“Yah, he does. Bloke's eating it up. So…where are we off to then?” He looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione.

Harry was about to make a suggestion as to where Ron could go when their salvation came in the form of a small group of very attractive witches that appeared at the other end of the entrance hall.

“Hey Ronnie?” A pretty dark-haired witch called out. They could see it was Romilda Vane. The gaggle of girls behind her all tittered like little birds.

Romilda had hands on hips, a dark smirk played across her attractive features.

Ron looked at them then bit his knuckle.

“Ooh, well,” he turned back to Harry and Hermione, “Sorry, looks like you two are on your own. Duty calls.” He waggled his eyebrows. He made his way toward the girls holding his arms out, “Ladies!”

“Hey Ron,” Harry shouted after him.

Ron stopped and turned, “Yes?”

“I wouldn't eat the chocolate cauldrons if I were you.”

Ron laughed.

“You just have no sense of adventure do you Potter,” Ron laughed and turned back to the girls. A few of the girls folded him into their arms and off they went.

Hermione looked sideways at Harry for a moment before she stopped his heart with a smoky kiss, “Well, you'll never hear me say that Harry.”

As they stood there admiring one-another they heard another voice, this one smaller, softer and quite female.

As they turned Hermione recognized the young first year girl at once.

“Tabitha!” Hermione beamed, “How are you. How've you been?”

“Fine,” the young girl said shyly. She glanced back to a group of first year girls hiding behind one of the suits of armor that lined the hallway. They were all tittering excitedly, “Erm…I was wondering if…if it wouldn't be too much of…of a bother if I could …erm…h…have your autograph?”

Harry sighed but Hermione nudged him forward.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione whispered, “Give the girl a thrill. She's barmy about you.”

“I don't want to encourage them Hermione.” He said emphatically.

Hermione chuckled, “A bit late for that love.” She held her hand out toward the little girl. She was looking at Harry like she was about to faint.

Harry just nodded and made his way toward where Tabitha was standing, shaking with nerves and excitement. When Harry came to stand in front of her she mutely handed him her little book and quill.

“Your name is Tabitha?” Harry asked warmly.

“Yeh…yes, Tabitha stammered breathlessly. She couldn't take her eyes off Harry's face.

Harry rolled his eyes internally but smiled at the girl warmly. After he signed his name in his best script he handed the book back to the girl. She then wordlessly handed them to Hermione next.

“You…you want me to sign it too?” Hermione was a bit taken aback but she took the book and in her usual perfect hand penned her name and a small note.

To Tabitha; my dear friend and fellow Gryffindor, best wishes for a bright future, Hermione Granger

Tabitha took the book back and stared at what Hermione wrote.

“Thank you, Hermione!” The young girl was positively beaming.

Harry shot Hermione an annoyed look. She always seemed to manage to upstage everyone. This time he was not to be denied.

Harry got down on one knee in front of Tabitha and took her trembling hand in his. The girl started hyperventilating.

Harry leaned forward slowly and kissed Tabitha lightly on her stunned lips.

“That's just for you,” Harry whispered, “Thank you for thinking about us. It's very sweet.”

When he got back to his feet Hermione was looking at him with mouth hanging open. Tabitha was looking at him with her mouth hanging open.

The little first year turned beet red and fled back down the hall with her hand clutching her chest. When she reached her friends they all squealed with excitement. They were chattering madly.

Hermione looked at Harry with a slit-eyed gaze and hands on hips.

“What?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh I can see I'm going to have to keep an eye on you mister!” She growled as she grabbed the collar of his shirt and towed him toward the stairs.

“Hermione?” They heard Tabitha call after them.

Hermione turned, “Yes Tabitha?”

“You were absolutely right!” The first year girl squealed again putting a hand over her grinning mouth as they all dashed off toward the Great Hall.

Harry looked at Hermione puzzled.

“Long story,” she replied, waving him off.

As Harry made his way through the silent halls of Hogwarts hand in hand with Hermione he was suddenly overcome with a very strange feeling. It was something that was as foreign to him as a brand new pair of trainers.

For the first time he could recall in his life he was feeling the peaceful sensation of utter happiness.

It scared him a little. He knew how fleeting happiness could be and how quickly it could be taken away from him.

But as he looked into the eyes of the one person in the world who could never hide her emotions from him he saw the truth…and his head was filled with the echoing words Albus Dumbledore had said to him eight long years before…

“The most powerful magic in the world resides in all of us…It's in your very skin…and that's love, Harry…love!

And he now knew that to be true…beyond the shadow of a doubt.

He was lost in those thoughts when he finally discovered it was a reflex action, one that had been born out of the knowledge that he hadn't always been the only one that resided inside his own mind. The pain that had caused him was gone now but there were marks on him that he knew would never go away. It was because of those memories that, every so often, he would reach up and touch his finger to his forehead and traced the outline of the lightning bolt shaped scar.

THE END

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46. 46 - Epilog

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Epilog

Standard Disclaimers Apply…

Chapter 46 - Epilog

Seven Years Later…

As Hermione made her way off the elevator she still had her head buried in the legal motions she was planning on presenting to the full Wizengamot later in the week. She had been working relentlessly on preparing her statements and developing her case for her promotion of Elfish rights. She was certain they could find no loopholes in her amendments this time.

Her original motion was defeated due to some very compelling arguments that House Elves would not be able to survive in the wizard world effectively without the support of their wizard employers and that their skills and general knowledge were limited to keep them in abject poverty.

With the support from some very influential officials and departments she had corrected that shortcoming. She was sure of it this time. Educational and vocational programs had been developed; funding pre-approved and was only awaiting final approval from the Wizengamot to put the programs on the fast track.

After years of research, development and continually pounding on some very influential doors to get those who mattered on board with her project she felt it was finally standing on the threshold of success.

The buzz throughout the Ministry was that this time there was no stopping the new Department for the Development of Magical Creature Independence. The D.D.M.C.I., the brainchild of Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and Kreacher (now a free elf) was at long last almost a reality.

The program also had the backing of some pretty strong names such as Harry Potter, the entire Weasley clan, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall and the financial backing of such heavy hitters in the magical world as;

George Weasley (8 Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shops and counting)

Harry Potter (Acting Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts who, with Hermione finally created S.P.E.W. and had a world-wide registry of some very influential people!)

Seamus Finnegan (who now owned a Muggle pub franchise called…what else…Finnegan's Authentic Irish Pubs that covered most of Europe)

And even Draco Malfoy (who opened a very successful Racing Broom shop in Diagon Alley and was Chairman of the Malfoy Foundation - Founded in his father's name, the foundation promoted education in all magical institutions of the evils of Dark Magic and was very successful in several countries including the United States)

As she perused her notes she noticed someone she recognized bustle by when Hermione's head snapped up and she came to a dead stop in the middle of the hall. Her eyes narrowed to nothing more than slits.

“Well…well…well,” Hermione said out loud gruffly, “If it isn't my old friend Dolores Jane Umbridge!”

They all knew Umbridge had been shunted sideways when Cornelius Fudge was voted out of office as Minister. He had taken her as his assistant when he was made Representative to the Prime Minister's office during the early tenure of Arthur's Ministry but had since been quietly shuffled back to the Department of Records since Fudge's retirement.

It had been years since any of them had seen or heard a word of Dolores Umbridge but the memories of what she had done to them at Hogwarts their 5th year had never faded…nor had the animosity.

The woman had dodged any retribution after the defeat of Voldemort by simply flying below the radar and existing on the periphery of official scrutiny but Hermione had known she was there. She just had better things to occupy her attention. But at the present moment the old battle ax had mistakenly wandered into Hermione Granger's laser-like field of perception.

Big effing mistake!

Hermione spun on her heel and glared at Umbridge with an evil glint in her eyes.

Dolores did a double-take at Hermione as if she didn't recognize her but Hermione clearly caught the slight tightening in her hefty, rounded shoulders.

“I'm sorry dear,” Umbridge said in her sickly sweet voice and quizzical look on her toad-like face, “May I help you?”

Hermione had noticed at once Dolores still carried the same hideous and gigantic handbag she did when she was at Hogwarts. It occurred to her instantly that it could still be filled with the same vile instruments she possessed even back then. It was only a small chance but why not find out.

Oh…this is going to be so much fun!

“I was just wondering Ms. Umbridge if I might be permitted to search your handbag?” Hermione asked as she approached the older woman.

“I beg your pardon,” Umbridge bridled but Hermione also detected she had paled slightly at the request, clutching her bag a bit tighter, “Why on earth…”

Hermione gladly cut across her.

“Ministry Decree Number 51,” Hermione said loudly, “No Employee or visitor of the Ministry shall possess on their person at any time within the confines of these or any other premises under Ministry control or occupation, any item restricted, banned or deemed malicious or such items containing Dark Magic, registered or unregistered. Those suspected of carrying or concealing such item or items is subjected to search and seizure at any time under said Decree by any authorized Ministry representative.”

Hermione held out her hand to Umbridge.

“N…now see here,” Umbridge sputtered indignantly.

A small crowd of passing Ministry employees began gathering to see what the fuss was all about. Hermione inwardly grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“Very well,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, “We can make this official if you like. You there…”

Hermione had called to a young man making his way from the lifts. He was wearing an Aurors tunic. He spied Hermione, then after pointing to himself and her confirming nod made his way over to the now small crowd gathered near the new Fountain of Peace and Prosperity.

“Yes Undersecretary,” the young man inquired, “What can I do for you?”

When the young Auror formally addressed Hermione Umbridge's face paled even further.

“Uh…Undersecretary?” She choked.

Hermione ignored her and spoke directly to the young Auror. This was playing out better than she had hoped.

“Are you still on duty?” She asked.

“No Ma'am,” The young man said a bit nervously.

Everyone in the Ministry knew about Undersecretary Granger-Potter. She was nice enough but you dare not cross her. Not unless you wanted your bullocks detached from your groin…was the running joke.

“Do you have you're two-way mirror with you?” She asked as pleasantly as she could. Her eyes never left Umbridge's face. Beads of sweat were now breaking out at the older woman's graying hairline.

The young Auror nodded.

“Would you contact a senior Auror please? Ask them to bring detectors if you would be so kind.” Hermione asked.

The young man quickly opened his two-way mirror and made the call. In moments there appeared two Senior Aurors, one carrying a Probity Probe and the other a Sneak-O-Scope. They made their way over to where the even larger crowd was now gathering around Hermione and Umbridge.

She handed the mirror back to the young Auror with her thanks and he made his way hastily toward the exit.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Ginny coming up the hall with her own quizzical look on her face. Hermione turned back to the lead Auror.

“I've asked Ms. Umbridge to search her handbag for Dark Magical objects but she has refused…”

Dolores cut in.

“I most certainly did not refuse…” she said heatedly but Hermione continued as if she had not said a word.

“Let the record show I've obtained Official assistance in this matter. Auror, check the handbag for Dark Magical objects or contraband if you please.”

The Auror carrying the Sneak-O-Scope placed the device on the floor at Umbridge's feet and turned it loose. The small globe started spinning in the center and began whistling softly as well. When it spun toward Dolores it stopped against one of her shoes.

“Seems there might be a dark or malevolent object on her person somewhere Undersecretary,” the Auror said looking up at Hermione.

Ginny had come up to stand directly behind Hermione's shoulder.

“What's going on?” Ginny whispered in her ear leaning in close.

“One moment,” Hermione replied glancing at Ginny's confused face.

The other Auror stepped in front of a now shaking Umbridge.

“I'm going to have to insist you turn over your handbag Madam,” the Auror asked in a demanding and authoritative tone.

“THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS!” Umbridge shouted defiantly, “I have rights…”

“Refusal to an official inquiry is tantamount to an admission of guilt Ms. Umbridge.” Hermione informed her, “I'm sure you may contact whomever you like after these gentlemen have taken you into custody.”

With that Dolores reluctantly released her handbag to the Auror who in turn handed it to his partner who opened it up. He stuck the end of the Probity Probe into the bag. The thin rod went stiff and vibrated indicating there was indeed some type of contraband inside the handbag.

The two Aurors began pulling all manner of items out of the large bag and setting them on the floor. There were quills, pilfered inkwells with the Ministry seal on them, A small phial of what the label read as;

Got an upper lip you can sweep the floor with?

Try…

Healer Ascot Twiddle's Feminine Face Fur Remover

For even the most stubborn uni-brow!

Guaranteed!

And several other rather embarrassing personal items as well but they found nothing that would constitute illegal Dark Magic items.

Umbridge looked as if she was about to explode from anger. Her head had turned a horrid shade of purple that clashed terribly with her light green ensemble and the huge green bow on top of her head.

Hermione started to feel a bit disappointed but then she glanced down at the Sneak-O-Scope and it was still spinning but now it had moved over to the Auror holding the handbag.

“May I see that for a moment?” Hermione asked.

“Of course Ma'am but its empty,” the Auror said shrugging his shoulders and handing her the bag.

As Hermione peered into the seemingly empty handbag she pulled her wand, stuck it inside the bag and murmured “Specialis Revelio” As she watched an almost invisible pocket appeared on one side of the inner lining of the bag.

“My…my, Dolores,” Hermione grinned, “What have we here?”

Hermione reached inside and ran a fingernail along the almost invisible seam in the silken lining. She pulled out a long thin box with a shiny metal lid.

Hermione handed the bag back to the Auror as her eyes locked on a now terrified-looking Umbridge who stood there glaring back at Hermione with bottom lip quivering.

Hermione knew almost at once what the box contained. The memories of the device brought a surge of deep-seated hatred up from her core along with a mouth full of hideously tasting bile. She wanted to stab Umbridge in the forehead with the vile thing but instead she swallowed bitterly, took a deep breath and calmly opened the box lid.

Inside were two evil-looking black shiny quills without the plumage. The shanks and tips were of highly polished silver and adorned with fine intricately carved scroll work. Each tip was needle sharp with a tiny ball on each tip end. The handles were from human bone and lacquered to a shiny black surface.

The Auror holding the Probity Probe leaned the device close to the box and the long thin shaft almost bent double toward the case.

“Merlin's beard,” the Auror asked in wonder, “What on earth are those?”

“Blood Quills,” Hermione answered in a raspy voice. She swallowed again hard.

She then addressed the older woman in the most official tone she could manage.

“Ms. Dolores Jane Umbridge, by the authority granted me by my position with the Ministry of Magic I place you under arrest for the possession and concealment of contraband Dark artifacts as classified in Ministry Decree #47.”

“What do you mean contraband?” Dolores spluttered, “Those aren't illegal! I won't stand for this ridiculous accusation! I'M AN EMPLOYEE OF THIS MINISTRY!”

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again.

“Not any more,” she said quietly, “Gentlemen?”

With that the Auror holding the probe squatted and unceremoniously scooped all the contents of the bag on the floor back inside as Hermione handed the small box to the other.

The Aurors grabbed Umbridge under each arm and started hauling her toward the lifts.

“I know what you're doing,” Umbridge spit, “This is retribution over what happened at Hogwarts isn't it?”

Hermione looked at Umbridge over her shoulder and grinned evilly.

“I must not tell lies Dolores,” she quipped.

“YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS!” Umbridge screamed flailing her captured arms about uselessly, “I'LL HAVE YOU UP ON COUNTER CHAR…”

Her diatribe was cut off by the clanging of the lift doors sliding closed.

Hermione turned to Ginny who was standing there looking at Hermione with mouth wide as the murmuring crowd slowly dispersed.

Hermione took in lungs full of cleansing air as she stood smiling at her best friend.

Well that was rather cathartic…

Ginny's face morphed into the same devious grin as the two women made their way toward the exit to enjoy a pleasant lunch at a nearby Muggle Bistro.

“You really enjoyed that didn't you, you devilish little imp?” Ginny chuckled.

“My dear Ginevra,” Hermione grinned devilishly herself, glancing sideways, “It was positively orgasmic!”

They both laughed heartily as they pushed their way out of the ministry and into the bright afternoon sunlight of downtown London.

The End…really!

A.N. Thank you one and all who have taken the time out of their busy lives to stick with and read this rather hefty bunch of nonsense and a very special thanks to all those who left comments both positive and negative.

It's taken a long time to complete and every time I planned to sit down and write something always seemed to get in the way…you know…work, responsibilities, internet connection problems, minor disasters and…well…life in general.

There was so much more I wanted to do with this story but I feel I've been beating on it long enough. Since it was my first real attempt at writing fiction, all in all, I think it turned out ok. Of course, writers are always their own biggest fans…(and tend to be legends in their own minds too!)

Thank you again and maybe, if I'm fortunate enough or lucky enough to garner the interest hopefully some of my other ideas will end up on the shelves at a book store nearest you…or maybe it just takes a little magic…who knows…but I shall remain optimistic and keep writing!

This story was started in January of 2010 on an old second-hand IBM Lenovo Thinkpad built in 1999 with a P4 processor and a 14” LCD and Windows XP Home. It will be finished by April 2012 on a new Acer 5733Z-4851 with a P6100 and a 15.6” HD-LCD and Windows 7…My how time flies!

Although most women would disagree, writing a story in much like giving birth (without all the blood and screaming {unless you're Steven King…HA!})

There's the planned pregnancy stage, (Coming up with the idea of a story), then there's conception, (Creating a viable outline to work from), then there's incubation for a minimum of 9 long months, (The creation of the text, chapters and content), then there's the labor of delivery, (Proof-reading and editing), then there's growth, (Doing the final re-write to correct all your errors), and finally…there's the separation when the child comes of age and goes out on its own, (Detaching yourself from months and months of work to create a story just to let it go after its completion with a huge sigh of relief!)

Think I'm kidding? You should try it! It's not nearly as easy as it looks.

Dark Wizard Killer…

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47. Chapter 47 - Deleted Scenes

Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait

Chapter 47 - Deleted Scenes;

Below is a small collection of ideas and scenes that I did not use in the story for one reason or another. I'm not sure why I'm posting this but I found them while clearing off some clutter from my writing files so instead of dragging them to the waste bin I thought I would share them…Thanks for reading!

Deleted Scene Number One;

A.N. - This was a scene I was going to use to escalate the deterioration of Hermione and Ron but I went in a different direction…

…As Harry sat wondering how his life had seemed to veer so far off course, he heard the `pop' of apparition out in the main hallway. He knew it could be only one of two people since the three people could apparate in and out of #12 were himself, Ron and Hermione. Hermione usually chose to use the flue though, saying it was only polite not to just barge into someone's home like that.

Harry had assured her that he didn't mind but, he knew Hermione well enough to know that she wouldn't anyway.

When Ron made his way into the drawing room, Harry could tell right away that he was extremely agitated about something. He had a copy of the Daily Prophet clutched tightly in one white-knuckled fist. His jaw was set in a hard line.

Oh boy…he must have seen that article about Hermione!

Harry couldn't believe that he would actually believe that tripe! Ron knew that she had sent her parents away and it should have been obvious to him that she would have to go get them back but Harry also knew, if the stories in the Prophet about him held any truth at all, that very little penetrated Ron's fire whiskey addled brain these days.

His long nose seemed to be a permanent dull shade of red.

“Seen the Prophet today?” Ron asked, rocking slightly on the sofa.

Harry simply held up the copy he laid down when Ron stormed in.

Ron lurched to his feet and began pacing the room.

“I can't believe it Harry,” Ron growled, “I can't believe she would run off to see that…that…BLOODY BULGARIAN BASTARD! I can't believe she would do that to us!”

Us?

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was about to calmly explain to Ron that the story was complete fiction and tell him he was being a total prat when he heard the fireplace in the kitchen flare and heard Hermione's voice calling from below.

“Harry, are you here?” She sounded like she was angry herself.

Harry groaned internally and closed his eyes. Things, he knew, were about to get very sticky.

Ron froze mid-stride. His face crumpled in a mask of rage.

Harry stood up. He was suddenly feeling very apprehensive.

“Ron!” He gave his best mate a warning.

Hermione blustered through the doorway and the moment her eyes lighted on Ron's figure she stiffened. She was carrying her own copy of the Prophet.

Harry found himself silently cursing the whole right to free press thing.

Harry could see right away that Hermione did not look very good at all. She seemed thin and drawn. He could tell from the flush of her cheeks that she was ill. He wanted to step between them but he knew that this was something that needed to happen and he also knew that he would be powerless to stop it.

He also had a fairly good idea that Ron was about to make a complete idiot of himself but Harry was tired of saving his best mate from himself. It was time for Ron to grow up.

Round One…Ron Weasley….

He held up his crumpled copy of the paper and glared at her.

“Mind explaining this?”

Hermione lifted her head slightly.

“Explain what Ronald? That you're strangling a copy of the Daily Prophet?”

Ron was barely containing his rage.

“Romania lovely this time of year, is it?”

“I wouldn't know,” was Hermione's calm response.

Harry could see that Hermione was trying to avoid the impending confrontation but he also knew that she would not back down if pushed.

He was right…of course.

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D RUN OFF TO BE WITH YOUR BULGARIAN BOY-TOY!”

Hermione's face darkened. Harry could see a frightening tempest brewing in her tired brown eyes.

“Is that what has your knickers in a twist?” Her voice was dangerously calm and even.

“SHYAH!”

Hermione moved slowly toward Ron. He squared himself.

“Is that what you believe? That I ran off to visit Victor? Well…seems to me by what the Prophet's been saying these days about one Ronald Weasley I'm surprised you even noticed.”

Hermione unfolded her copy of the paper and thrust it in Ron's face.

“Whose darling little face is plastered all over the front page?”

The cover photo was of Ron with his arms around two very attractive blond witches. One was a famous singer and the other a wealthy socialite.

Ron seemed to pale slightly. Harry just leaned against the wall and waited.

“A few of your many Fan Club members I suspect.”

“They're not my fan club, Hermione. They're just some people I met at a charity fund raiser for the Leprechaun Children's Orphanage in Buxley yesterday.”

“Oh yes I know. You're quite the social butterfly these days. What was it the day before…oh yes…I recall you were asked to endorse a new line of Quidditch helmets wasn't it, or was it the launching of the new Night Bus?”

Ron bristled.

“So what's wrong with any of that?”

Hermione looked very weary. She felt she shouldn't have to explain to him that she thought they were supposed to be together. She also knew that with each appearance Ron made, he was always photographed with his arm around one or more devastatingly attractive young ladies.

“Nothing Ron, “she sighed, “nothing at all.”

“That's right. I'm just having a bit of fun, that's all. It's not my fault that you and Harry want to be shut-ins.”

Harry visibly winced.

Ooh Ron! Mate…you should have learned by now when you should just keep your bleeding mouth shut.

Round Two…Hermione Granger…

“Shut-ins…SHUT-INS!” Her face flushed a deep scarlet, “You stupid, brainless twit! Do you think Harry and I want to live this way? Do you think we enjoy getting mobbed by thousands of people every time we go out the door or having flashes from photographers follow us where ever we go?”

Hermione's chest was heaving slightly.

“I can't speak for Harry but I can tell you for certain I don't want the attention. I just want to be left alone so I can go on with my life!”

“Well life is different now Hermione…” Ron stated.

“Yes Ron, it is. It's different because that's the way you want it!”

“You're right! It is the way I want it. For the first time since I was eleven people know who I am…ME!” Ron slapped his chest, “Not Harry Potter's best mate or that other red-headed bloke…ME, Ron Weasley! They know my name, which is more than I can say for the likes of people like Slughorn! Remember? He never could remember my name! For the first time in my life I get respect. Respect for what I've done…”

Hermione seemed to explode.

“WHAT YOU'VE DONE! Don't you mean what WE'VE DONE…AND DON'T YOU DARE BLAME HARRY FOR YOUR PATHETIC FEELINGS OF INADEQUACY!”

Ron took a furtive step back. Hermione's finger was now pointing at Ron's nose and she was standing on her toes. An angry artery was pulsing in her neck.

Harry had never seen her so angry.

“Let me tell YOU something Ron Weasley! From the day he was dropped off on the Dursley's doorstep, Harry's been subjected to INTOLERABLE abuse. He was treated as nothing more than a piece of furniture, something to be stuffed into a cupboard under the stairs when not in use. Can you imagine what that must have been like? CAN YOU!?!”

Hermione didn't wait for Ron to respond. Harry started feeling a bit self-conscious but he wasn't about to try and stop her. She was livid!

“His entire childhood was spent in the shadow of his disgusting cousin Dudley. He was forced to wait on them like a…like a HOUSE ELF!”

“YOU…All your life you've been coddled and protected and surrounded by people who love you.”

“Even after Harry found out he was a wizard, what did we do for him? We hung a bleeding prophecy around his neck like an anchor and said, `There you go Harry! We know you're just a kid but we expect you to save us from a PSYCHOTIC MAD MAN HELL BENT ON ENSLAVING US ALL AND KILLING YOU IN THE PROCESS BECAUSE YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN STOP HIM!'”

Hermione turned away from Ron and kicked a small table next to the sofa. She spun back around.

“And how do we repay him for succeeding? We pursue him like a wild beast, forcing him onto hiding in a dusty old house because he can't even go to the market without getting mobbed by a bunch of nutters looking for an autograph or a photo or people just wanting to touch the Savior of the Wizard World!”

In three angry strides, Hermione was back in Ron's face, tears were now streaming down her cheeks.

“You go have your fun Ron Weasley and I hope you enjoy all your new-found fame and glory but if you think for one moment that those people respect you then you're in for a rude awakening. What are you going to do when the novelty wears off? Hmm? What are you going to do when the bloody wizard world turns its back on you because you're old news?”

Hermione's chest was heaving. She looked strained to the limit.

Ron still looked indignant. He set his jaw and glanced at Harry. Harry tried to keep his features neutral.

“I don't know Hermione and I really don't care. I'll worry about that when the time comes. I'm not blaming Harry for anything. I'm just taking advantage of what's out there. If those tosspots want to see me as a hero then who am I to tell them any different. What I wanted was for you to share it with me but if that's not what you want…fine.”

Ron tossed the paper on the floor and walked right past her toward the kitchen.

Hermione turned toward him.

“Where in that convoluted dead space you call a brain did you think I would ever want to live that way? You of all people should know me better then that Ronald! Don't you dare come crawling back to me when no-one wants you any more. I won't be you're disposable girl any longer.”

Ron stopped but didn't look back. Harry could see his shoulder slump slightly.

“Fine,” was all Ron said as he disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

Hermione bent forward, wrapping her arms around herself as she broke down.

Harry patted her shoulder before he followed Ron down into the kitchen. Just as he was about to toss a handful of flue powder into the fireplace, he turned to look at Harry.

“Come to have a go at me as well?”

“No Ron,” Harry said calmly. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life if you leave right now.”

“Why Harry, because I won't do things her way? Why is it that between the two of us, she's always right or always knows best?”

Harry thought about that for a moment. Why, indeed. The obvious conclusion was that it was because…she was Hermione Granger. Between the three of them she had always been the one who did know best. She almost always had the right answer. She was just…better at life than either one of them.

He looked up at Ron.

“It's because I've known you for a long time mate and I know you well enough to know that you will regret this, maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but soon. You'll wake up and wonder why things didn't turn out the way they were supposed to and you'll want it back.”

Ron looked off into the dark shadows of the kitchen for a moment then, as if making a decision, he looked back at Harry.

“Not this time, mate.” Ron turned back to the fireplace.

That incensed Harry at once.

“Then do me a favor Ron.”

“What's that?” Ron asked.

“Don't blame Hermione or me when you don't get what you want.” Harry turned and left the kitchen.

He heard the fireplace flare as he made is way back to the sitting room. Hermione was still standing with her head bowed, tears streaming down her face. Harry walked carefully up behind her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

Hermione spun and wrapped her arms around Harry's middle and buried her face in his chest.

“Oh H…Harry!” Hermione sobbed like he had never seen before. He held his arms tightly around her for what seemed like an hour.

When she had cried herself out, Harry guided her to the sofa and sat them down. He called Kreacher to bring her some water and some tissue. He watched her for a moment.

“Hermione, you know Ron will eventually come around…”

Hermione leaped off the couch, her anger flaring once again.

“NO! Harry! Don't you dare make excuses for him. You always do. He's made his choice. I meant what I said. I won't be tossed aside like some garment or an old sock, lying there until it's needed again. NO!”

Hermione turned back to look at Harry. She looked exhausted, her face a mask of deep sadness.

Harry hated to see her like this.

“I was willing to forgive him when he called me a `nightmare' when we were younger. I forgave him when he completely overlooked me for the Yule Ball. I forgave him about the whole misunderstanding with the Slug Club,” she started shaking uncontrollably, “I was even willing to forgive him for that whole Lavender Brown mess.”

She looked down at her hands.

“I might have even been able to forgive him for abandoning us during the hunt for the Horcruxes some day Harry but this…”

She looked at him in the eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks once again.

“I know I'm not pretty or attractive or alluring but I won't ever be someone's afterthought.”

With that, Harry jumped to his feet. His anger and frustration flared.

“Don't Hermione,” he growled, “Don't you ever think you're not good enough! You are all those things and more! Just because one brainless twit can't see what other blokes like me see, then too bad for him. I don't want to ever hear you say that again. You're amazing Hermione!”

She smiled but then swayed slightly on her feet.

“Harry, I don't think I feel so…” Harry watched as her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell forward like a downed tree. Harry leapt over the tea table just in time to catch her before her head slammed into it.

“Hermione!” Thinking fast, he called for Kreacher.

Kreacher appeared in the doorway.

“Kreacher, get to Hogwarts fast. Go to the infirmary. Tell Madam Pomfrey I'm coming with Hermione Granger and she's gravely ill.”

Kreacher didn't waste time bowing or responding like usual, the old elf simply snapped his fingers and was gone.

Harry picked Hermione up and cradled her in his arms. He made his way to Rugulus' old room and found Philius Negellus Black's portrait.

“Headmaster Black?” Harry cried. He was about to shout again when he saw his image peer around the frame on the right.

“Yes?”

“Headmaster, please. Inform Headmistress McGonagall that I'm coming through her office flue. I'm bringing Hermione Granger and she's gravely ill.”

Phinius popped up at once.

“Right away!”

“Thanks,” he said but he was already making his way to the kitchen. He looked down at Hermione. Her face had gone white as a ghost and her breathing seemed too short and shallow. Harry's heart skipped a beat and his blood felt a bit colder. “Hang in there Hermione.”

He supported her with one shaking arm as he grabbed a hand full of flue powder in the other. He tossed it in the fireplace.

“Headmistresses office, Hogwarts!” In a bright swirling flash of green they vanished.

They were met at once on the other end by a very surprised McGonagall.

“What is it Mr. Potter? What has happened to Ms. Granger?”

Deleted Scene Number Two;

A.N. - I was going to pursue this as an alternate ending or maybe a epilog but it eventually got deleated…

…As they sat sipping their beverages, they could tell Ginny was very uncomfortable. She squirmed in her chair and could not seem to get settled.

“Alright there Ginny?” Hermione asked with a smirk.

Ginny shot Hermione a withering glare.

“What do you bloody think,” the fiery redhead groaned and clutched her ample belly, “I feel like I've swallowed fifteen pounds of wet cement!”

Hermione and Gretchen couldn't help but laugh. Ginny continued to glare at them both.

“Glad you're enjoying my discomfort,” she shifted again, “It wouldn't be so bad if they would give my intestines some room for Merlin's sake. My bladder feels like Grawp is stepping on it!”

“It won't be long Ginny,” Gretchen said with an unavoidable snicker, “They'll be coming before you know it.”

“Can't be soon enough as far as I'm concerned,” Ginny grimaced at the thought of her impending birth, “Honestly, I just want these two things out of me! They're kicking me to death! I swear if they don't come on the due date I'm going to swallow a blast-ended skrewt to chase them out!”

That cracked the other two up right and proper.

“I can't believe it,” Hermione added, “Twins. As tiny as you are, it's no wonder you're in so much pain. Dean is helping, isn't he?”

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment. The other two could see the beads of sweat collecting at her hairline.

“He's been trying to avoid me at all costs it seems,” She lamented.

“Couldn't be that sunny disposition of yours now could it?” Gretchen smirked.

Ginny made a face and stuck her tongue out at her friend. The waitress brought their orders and placed them in front of their respective places. Ginny looked at her plate of fresh green salad and winced. She then looked down at the huge bulge in her maternity top.

“Now hear this you two,” she whispered, “I'm going to eat this so your just going to have to give me some space…got it?”

Gretchen looked at Hermione.

“Yours has got a birthday coming up, doesn't he?”

“Yes, actually,” Hermione nodded, “on the 31st.”

“I still think it's very strange that you gave birth to James the same day Harry was born,” Ginny said with her mouth half full of salad. She was shoveling her food in as if she hadn't eaten in a month.

“Ugh…Ginevra Weasley,” Hermione held up her hand, “Must you always remind me?”

“Well I think it's sweet,” Gretchen said, “Makes birthdays a bit easier.”

“Maybe,” Ginny added, “but really, what are the chances of something like that happening? One in a blue bloody billion I suspect.”

“Ginny please!” Hermione implored.

“I know, I know,” Ginny gave Hermione an evil grin, “It smacks of Divinations,” she said in an affected voice, “and we all know what the great Hermione Granger thinks of Divinations.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her very pregnant best friend but let it go without comment.

“Well,” Gretchen pouted, “I still hate you both.”

“Still no luck?” Hermione glanced sadly at Gretchen.

“No,” Gretchen sighed, “and it's not for the lack of trying mind you.”

“Gods,” Ginny gagged, “Tell you what. When I spit these two blighters out I'll gladly let you and Benton borrow them for a while, that aught to cure you of any sentimental notions. I swear we should just name them Fred and George and get it over with!”

“Oh Ginny, stop whining,” Hermione snipped as she took a bite of her lunch, “it won't be as bad as all that.”

The women fell into a companionable silence as they concentrated on their lunches for a while. Ginny finally came up for air as she stared down into her empty plate.

“I'm still hungry,” she said as she waved at their waitress. She ordered something else to eat as Gretchen looked at Hermione.

“So how does Harry like his new job?”

Hermione smiled widely as she looked off into the distant shadows of the restaurant for a moment.

“He absolutely loves it Gretchen. I truly think he has finally found what he was meant to do.” Hermione gave Gretchen a significant look, “I've never seen him so happy.”

“I'm glad for him,” Gretchen smiled sadly.

It was no secret to Hermione that this oddly-shaped but kindly sweet woman had an undeniable crush on the Savior of the Wizarding World once upon a time. It was that as well as several other factors that finally spurred Hermione to realize what everyone else seemed to already be aware of…that she was in love with Harry as well.

But as it seemed to always manifest itself when she waxed nostalgic about her realization, her mind drifted to Ron. She looked up at Ginny.

“Heard from Ron lately?”

Ginny nodded.

“He was by the flat on Monday. He looks good so I guess the injuries from the last Quidditch match have healed fairly well.”

Hermione knew that Ron had been on the second string team of the Chudley Cannons for almost two years now. Due to injuries of the other two first string Keepers he had finally gotten the chance at a starting spot at last Saturday's match with the Wimbourne Wasps.

Both she and Harry regretted the fact that they could not attend his first match but they were busy getting Harry settled in at Hogwarts. They were so excited about his starting as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, it drove everything from their minds. Hermione wanted him to have the best start possible.

They had promised to catch the next match with the Tutshill Tornados if he was still scheduled to Keep.

Deleted Scene Number Three;

A/N - Was going to use this as a way for Hermione to catch on to the Transfiguration Professor's plot…

One evening, after breaking up a rather heated tryst between Ginny and Dean up on the Astronomy tower, Hermione was making her way down through the hall that contained the Transfiguration class and Professor's quarters.

She was still a bit rattled because Ginny had practically lost her mind and went completely off on Hermione when she had, as Ginny so eloquently put it, stuck her self-absorbed, self important, ego-inflated nose into other people's affairs she had no business sticking it into!

Hermione was certain she was going to have to start tap dancing around bat boggy hexes at any moment but then Ginny simply broke down in tears of frustration and bolted from the tower leaving a completely bewildered and frightened Dean Thomas standing there red-faced with trousers down around his socks.

Thankfully, he had not gotten as far as his underwear when Hermione showed up. Ginny, however, had been almost completely naked except for her bra.

Hermione couldn't help thinking she knew now why all the blokes thought Ginny a total hottie!

Why the hell couldn't I have developed like that!?!

Hermione thought glumly trudging through the halls trying desperately to put the whole embarrassing thing completely out of her mind.

As she passed the Transfiguration Professor's quarters she was snatched out of her reverie by the unmistakable hushed tones of animated conversation coming from the Professor's quarters.

For some reason, Hermione found herself stopping in her tracks and remaining as still and quiet as she could.

It was ridiculous! First, it wasn't unusual for Professors to get together after hours and talk. Second, it was none of her business who Professor Star happened to be entertaining this evening in her quarters, even though it was well after midnight and three…

Hermione found herself silently creeping closer to Professor Star's chamber door listening as intently as she could.

“Have you determined a way to get him here yet or are we to assume that's not possible,” a male voice asked. He sounded very young to be in a Professor's suite after hours.

There was something about his voice that seemed oddly familiar but Hermione was almost certain she had never heard it before. Still yet…

“I'm still working on that part,” Professor Star replied, “Oh…It simply irks me to no end I did not anticipate this possibility sooner! I do have some ideas but they're no more concrete than fig pudding at this juncture. Bah!”

Professor Star sounded terribly agitated. The topic of their discussion, while not precisely clear left Hermione with a feeling of cold dread gripping her.

“Seems to me time is against us…” but the young man's voice was abruptly cut off by a shushing sound.

That was Hermione's queue to vacate the area as quickly and quietly as possible before she was discovered eavesdropping on a conversation she had no business listening to. Just as she turned the corner of a bisecting hallway she heard the chamber door to the Transfiguration Professor's quarters open with a squeak of rusty hinges then, after a heart pounding few moments the door closed again.

Without looking to see if the coast was clear Hermione went on her way to finish her rounds contemplating what she had heard and trying to decide if it was something she needed to be concerned about. It wasn't as if she had enough to deal with already.

What Hermione didn't know was after Professor Star opened the door and stepping out into the hall cleverly reached back and closed the door purposely remaining in the hall to see if anyone peaked out from some corner or shadow to see if the coast was clear. It was only after she heard nothing for a long moment did she re-enter her quarters still possessing the feeling someone had been outside her door listening.

She would have to be more diligent in applying silencing charms about her room before having such conversations with her rather un-welcomed houseguest.

Deleted Scene Number Four;

A/N - Was going to incorporate this into the story as a dream Hermione had and then use it as an alternative ending as she “actually” lived the vision in real life in the future - I decided to go in a different direction…

Hermione's Dream;

It was late afternoon. The deep oranges and reds of the setting sun threw long shadows across the quaint avenue as she walked toward a cottage. It would have been completely unrecognizable if it weren't for the familiar intricate wrought iron fence that ran around the front of the place. It was interwoven with snitches and quafles that she immediately distinguished as Bowman Wright's old home place.

But it was much different than she remembered…

It was beautiful. The small front lawn was immaculate with a flagstone walk way that curved to the front steps. Neatly trimmed hedges framed the front porch to the left. There was a wooden bench swing set in the far left corner of the porch hidden in the shadows.

Somehow, she knew it was there!

The cottage was painted a brilliant white with neatly trimmed black shutters. The roof above the front porch sported two large dormers. Warm, golden light radiated from the windows. The right side was the two story section of the house with large windows and it was covered in ivy all the way to the slate gable roof.

As she made her way up onto the porch, she approached the front door. It was painted a deep maroon with gold trim.

Gryffindor colors!

She couldn't help but smile.

Mounted on the door was a rather large, golden lion's head door knocker. It seemed almost comically out of place but as she reached for the door handle the lion head spoke.

“Welcome home Mrs. Potter,” it declared in a deep, resonating voice and the door swung inward by itself.

“Good evening Lionel,” she heard herself say as she made her way into a small entrance hall.

How did she know that name?

Was that her voice? She couldn't tell. It really didn't sound like her at all.

To the left, through an arched entry way was the sitting room. The furnishings were all antiquated but remarkably well preserved. The walls were painted white but half way down, they changed to a deep, rich oak paneling. It gave the room a cozy feeling. A huge stone fireplace was set into the far wall. The fire screen had the same designs as the fence out front.

Just to the right of the front door was a set of stairs that went to the second floor. Somehow she knew that up those steps lay a large master suite, two more bedrooms, several baths and a large playroom on the left side.

Next to the stairs on the left was a short hallway that led to a quaint little kitchen and a breakfast nook.

She found herself moving to a door to the right at the bottom of the stairs. She opened a door into what she knew was the library and office. She watched feminine hands place a satchel neatly on the side of the desk and turned to exit.

She found herself moving down the short hallway that led to the rear of the cottage. The walls were lined with photos and paintings on both sides. She knew they were there but for some strange reason they seemed to be blurry and out-of-focus so she was unable to make out who they all were.

The only picture she recognized was a small photo toward the end of the hall on the left. She had seen it before, only then it had been torn. It showed a messy-haired toddler zooming through the frame on a tiny broom several inches off the ground. James was running after him laughing. Lilly was standing off to the right side of the picture, laughing and clapping her hands.

It was the picture Harry had found in Sirius' room the night they sought refuge from the Death Eaters at #12 Grimmuald Place.

She made her way through the kitchen to the rear entrance. She looked out into the back yard.

It was much larger than the front with high white fences on both sides. The lawn spilled away down to a small brook that meandered lazily by. Beyond that rose a large hill covered with deep forest and ancient trees.

There, in the grass just beyond a flagstone patio was a man standing with his back toward the house. He was tall and broad-shouldered. He was bent forward with his arms outstretched as if in anticipation of catching something.

As she watched, she saw herself rest her left hand on the window frame. She saw two rings on her finger…Lilly's finger. One was a rather large diamond solitaire. The other was an intricately carved band of silver and gold. The two metals woven together to form a delicate braid.

It was one of the most beautiful rings she had ever seen.

As she looked back out into the yard, it was then she saw him. He was so tiny. He had the same head of untidy black hair. He smiled and gurgled as he tried to make his way to his father on his short, rather bandy little legs. He wobbled and then sat quite abruptly on his bottom in the grass. His eyes never left his father nor did his smile ever fade.

The man lurched forward as if to catch the toddler but stopped himself.

“Come on son,” the man whispered, “you can do this!” then sat down a few feet away and waited.

His voice was so familiar…but older.

The tyke struggled to his feet once again and resumed his unsteady journey toward his father's waiting embrace.

Suddenly, she felt herself overcome by very powerful emotional feelings as she watched the scene unfold before her. She felt a warmth and contentment that she had never experienced before. It seemed to fill her to the point of bursting with joy and happiness.

But as quickly as those wonderful emotions had filled her, they were replaced with a sudden sense of shame and deep regret. It was as if she was intruding on something private and deeply personal.

As she struggled to extract herself from the vision, Hermione heard herself speak to the man, her words echoing as if they were spoken from far away. She couldn't understand them.

As the man turned to face her, the scene dissolved into a thick white mist that seemed to cloud all her senses.

It was then that she woke up bathed in a cold sweat.

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