No More Mysteries

MayorHaggar

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 07/09/2010
Last Updated: 16/02/2013
Status: in_progress

After his ill-fated trip to the Department of Mysteries that led to the death of his godfather, Harry Potter decides he must take control of his own life. But if a certain Gryffindor know-it-all has anything to say about it, he won't be doing it alone.

Chapters

1. 1. A Conversation in the Hospital Wing

2. 2. All Aboard

3. 3. Pen Pals

4. 4. Birthday at The Burrow

5. 5. Meeting at Hogwarts, Part 1

6. 6. Meeting at Hogwarts, Part 2

7. 7. Getting Defensive

8. 8. Back to School

9. 9. Lessons and Letters

10. 10. Surprise!

11. 11. The Life of a Spy

12. 12. Up in Flames

13. 13. Resolve

14. 14. All Hallows' Eve

15. 15. Trust

16. 16. Detention and Discussion

1. 1. A Conversation in the Hospital Wing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, as will be evidenced by the fact that this story will be "chest monster" free.

Quick A/N: The story follows canon through the fight in the Department of Mysteries, and Dumbledore's conversation with Harry shortly afterwards. Hermione's injury might be slightly more severe than it was in the book, as in order for this opening chapter to work, I needed her to be the only one left in the hospital wing.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar (mayorhaggar@gmail.com)

Chapter 1: A Conversation in the Hospital Wing

Harry Potter was no stranger to the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He'd wound up there so many times during his first five years at the school, it had become something of a running joke between he and his friends that they should rename the wing in his honour.

Harry was in no mood for jokes or humour at the moment. He doubted he ever would be again. After all, it had been just days since his godfather, Sirius Black, had been murdered right before his very eyes.

Harry had lost count of the number of people who had approached him since that terrible night to offer him words of condolence, sympathy and regret. He was getting rather tired of it. It was all well and good for people to tell him that his pain would lessen eventually, as time passed. What did they know? He'd just lost the closest thing he'd ever had to a father, or a family.

The fact that wizarding Britain finally realised he and Dumbledore had been telling the truth about Voldemort's return to power was of little consolation, either. The price had been far too steep, and at this point, he didn't really care whether a bunch of strangers thought he was a deranged nutter. All that mattered to him was what his small circle of close friends thought of him.

It was the health of one of those close friends that brought Harry to the hospital wing at this time. The six of them had really been quite lucky to have come through a battle with some of Voldemort's chief Death Eaters in one piece. Harry had been through far worse physically, and as for the friends who accompanied him on his foolish mission, only minor injuries had been incurred. Ginny had broken her ankle, Neville's nose and wand were broken, and Ron had been attacked by those freaky brains, but all of them had since been released from the hospital wing.

All except one, that is. Hermione Granger's injuries were a bit more serious, and she alone was still confined to her bed per the orders of Madam Pomfrey. She was not alone, though. Harry had scarcely left her side over the past couple of days, staying longer and visiting with much greater frequency than any of Hermione's other friends. At the present moment, while the rest of his friends were eating supper down in the Great Hall, Harry was occupying his usual seat near Hermione's bedside, watching over his closest female friend as she slept in the otherwise deserted room.

Harry leaned forward slightly, making sure his friend looked as comfortable as possible. Once he reassured himself that Hermione continued to slumber peacefully, Harry allowed his thoughts to drift to the deluge of life-altering information that Headmaster Dumbledore had dropped in his lap after they returned from the Department of Mysteries.

For years, Harry had believed in the Headmaster. He'd trusted him, and had always taken comfort in the fact that the wise old man was there to watch over him, help him and guide him. But all that had changed.

Harry's disillusionment with Dumbledore had been brewing for nearly a year. Sure, Dumbledore had shown up and helped him out during his trial at the Ministry, but the entire time, he'd refused to look Harry in the eye. And Dumbledore's detached behaviour towards Harry continued throughout the school year, as the old man seemed to do his very best to avoid him. Harry now knew that Dumbledore had behaved in this way in an effort to prevent Voldemort from spying on him, but this did little to ease Harry's frustration towards his Headmaster. And that was really only the tip of the iceberg.

After everything Dumbledore had thrown at him during that memorable conversation in his office, Harry knew he'd never look at the man the same way again. All along, he'd known exactly why Voldemort had targeted Harry. He'd known the precise reason that his parents were murdered on that dreadful Halloween night so many years ago, and why Voldemort continued to come after him to this very day. He'd not only known of the existence of the prophecy, but he'd known what it said, word-for-word. And yet, for the past five years or so, he had deliberately kept Harry in the dark.

In doing so, Dumbledore had created an opening for Voldemort to take advantage of. If Dumbledore had told Harry what he needed to know, Voldemort would never have been able to lure him to the Ministry. Harry would not have led his friends into danger—nor Sirius to his death.

Harry still felt he deserved some of the blame for what had happened to his godfather, but as he'd thought it over extensively, he concluded that Dumbledore was just as much to blame, and truthfully, probably deserved the brunt of it. Harry made many mistakes on that night—but the biggest mistake of all was Dumbledore's. If Harry had been given all of the facts, everything would have been avoided. The blame for that lay at the feet of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry believed the old man when he'd said that he had acted with Harry's best interests in mind. But still, Dumbledore had hidden so much from him for so long. He could never put his trust in the Headmaster again. Not completely, at least.

“Harry? What's wrong?”

Startled out of his musings, Harry glanced over to see that Hermione had awoken. She rubbed her hand across her face sleepily, but fixed him with a steady gaze as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“Nothing's wrong, Hermione; I'm fine. The real question is, how are you? Is your wound hurting?”

Hermione shook her head, but never took her eyes off of her friend. “It's feeling much better, Harry. It's just a slight discomfort now. But don't try to change the subject. I know you too well for that to work on me. Something's bothering you, Harry, I can tell.”

Harry shook his head in dismissal, though he did break eye contact by lowering his gaze to Hermione's bed.

“Don't know what makes you think that. There's nothing bothering me, aside from simply being worried about you.”

“That's rubbish, Harry,” Hermione asserted. “Something's eating at you. Stop trying to deny it; I can read you like a book.”

“I've seen the way you read books, Hermione. There's no way I'm that easy to figure out,” Harry said with a grin, trying to sidetrack his friend with humour.

Hermione wasn't about to let him get away with it.

“Harry...” she quietly commanded, letting him know that she would not let the issue drop.

Harry held no illusions about being anywhere near as perceptive as Hermione, but he still knew his friend well enough to realise that she would continue pressing him until he shared what was on his mind.

His first instinct was to try and make something up that sounded at least semi-plausible. After what had happened with Dumbledore, Harry was reluctant to put his trust in anyone else. But before he had the chance to come up with anything, he started second guessing himself. Yes, he felt horribly betrayed by Dumbledore's actions (or, more accurately, his inactions.) But, in all the years he'd known her, had Hermione ever given him a single reason not to trust her? The only thing he could really come up with was their disagreement over the Firebolt in their 3rd year. He'd been angry with her at the time, feeling like she'd betrayed him by going behind his back and sharing her suspicions about the broom with Professor McGonagall. It turned out she'd been right, as the broom really had been sent to him by Sirius Black, though obviously not with the intent that Hermione had feared.

She'd done that without voicing her concerns over the broom with him, or telling him what she was going to do. Would she do the same if he confided in her now?

“Hermione...if you could do it over again, would you handle the Firebolt incident in our 3rd year any differently? Or would you make the exact same choice?”

“You're trying to change the subject again, Harry,” Hermione said irritably.

“This is important, Hermione,” Harry said. She rose her eyebrows and looked over at him doubtfully, but Harry met her gaze unflinchingly this time. “Really, it is. If you answer this question, I'll answer yours.”

Hermione shrugged, not seeing how this was relevant, but answered him nevertheless. “Honestly? I'm not sure that I would do that any differently. I don't regret telling Professor McGonagall about the broom. I was worried about your safety, and rightfully so. You had no way of knowing who sent you that broom, or for what purpose. It would have been incredibly reckless for you to start using it immediately, without having any sort of tests done on it. You can admit that now, right?”

“Considering that someone has tried to kill me every single year that I've been here at Hogwarts, absolutely,” Harry agreed with a nod. “Even back then, I'd already had several near-death experiences here. I guess I was just so excited to have a new, top-of-the-line broom to replace my broken Nimbus, and I didn't really let myself think about the danger.”

Harry paused, thinking, before he continued. “I wish you'd have come to me first, though. It felt like a betrayal, kind of. Even though I eventually got over it, and realised that you'd had a point, I still felt hurt that you went straight to McGonagall without at least talking to me about it first.”

“I see what you mean,” Hermione said as she nodded thoughtfully. “But it wouldn't have done any good, would it? Just from the way you and Ron were acting when you got that broom, I didn't feel like there was any chance that you'd listen to my concerns about it. You wouldn't have, right?”

“Right, I wouldn't have,” Harry agreed. “I was too excited to look at things logically. But I was a 13-year-old boy. 13-year-old boys aren't really known for thinking things over. Now, I know I'm still not the most rational bloke around,” Harry said with the ghost of a smile on his face, “but I'd like to think that after everything I've been through since then, I'd be willing to listen to what you had to say, if something like that came up again. Especially after what happened when I refused to listen to you about going to the Ministry to save Sirius,” Harry finished, frowning in sorrow and regret as he thought about his godfather.

Hermione patted his arm in sympathy. “I think you would, too. I honestly believe that if you hadn't had Voldemort in your head, influencing your thoughts and emotions, I'd have been able to talk you out of going to the Ministry.”

“I should have listened to you...how often are you wrong?” Harry said morosely.

“Don't torture yourself over it, Harry,” Hermione said firmly. “We've already been over this. It was not your fault. There are many who deserve blame for what happened that night. Voldemort, obviously. All of those Death Eaters that attacked us. Kreacher, for deceiving you when you tried to contact Sirius. Even Professor Snape, for his dreadful attempts at teaching you Occlumency.”

“Don't forget Dumbledore,” Harry added darkly.

“Dumbledore? What do you mean? He wasn't even in the castle at the time. How is he responsible for what happened?” a confused Hermione asked.

How do I answer that? Harry wondered. Should he talk with Hermione about what had been on his mind for the past few days? Could he trust her?

“Well...it's...complicated,” he said hesitantly.

“How so?”

After spending a moment trying to figure out how to respond, Harry decided there was still a question that needed answering.

“Before we get into that, could you answer my question?” he said quietly.

“About the Firebolt? I thought I already had,” Hermione responded.

Harry nodded in agreement. She had answered that question. But it still didn't tell him what he needed to know.

“Yeah, you're right, you did. And I can't really blame you for your answer. Back then, I wouldn't have been mature enough to listen to your rational objections about the broom. I guess the question I really wanted to ask you wasn't whether or not you'd change that decision if you had the chance, but what you'd do if something like that happened again.”

“What do you mean by 'something like that', exactly? Give me an example.”

Harry took a deep breath and glanced around the room quickly, making sure they were still alone, before replying.

“OK...let's say I was thinking about leaving Hogwarts. For good. What would you do then? Would you go run off to tell a professor, or would you keep it secret?” he asked in an intense whisper.

Hermione felt a wave of pure fear coursing through her stomach at Harry's whispered question, but did her best to fight her rising panic and respond in something close to her usual tone.

“Well...I suppose I'd want to hear your reasons first. After that, I'd respond to them as best I could. If I disagreed with anything that you had to say, I'd let you know. If I had any suggestions to offer, advice to give, or counter-points to make, I would share them with you. I would want to discuss the situation with you thoroughly. If I felt that you were making a mistake and needlessly putting yourself in danger, and you refused to accept my arguments, I suppose I would alert whomever I thought could help me keep you safe. But would I immediately tell Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall, as I did with the Firebolt? No. You've grown up and matured, as have I. If I disagreed with you now, my first response would be to try to reason with you. If it got to the point where I felt that I had no choice but to tell someone else, you would already be well aware of how I felt.”

“So...basically what you're saying is that you'd at least hear me out? No matter what I might be thinking of doing, you'd be willing to discuss it with me before telling someone else?”

“That's correct, Harry,” Hermione confirmed. “But if push came to shove, I would do what I thought I had to do. I can deal with you being angry with me, so long as I do whatever I can to make sure you make it through this war healthy and alive. Is that good enough? Will you trust me, and tell me what has you so worked up that you're thinking about leaving the only place you've ever really felt at home?”

Harry didn't respond right away, as he was silently mulling over what she had said. He thought she'd been pretty upfront with him. She hadn't denied that she would go to someone else if she thought it was absolutely necessary, but she had promised to at least talk things over with him before resorting to that. He did worry that she would disagree with him, and eventually would wind up going to Dumbledore. The old man knew that Harry was upset with him; all the things he'd broken while in his office were proof enough. If he knew the true extent of Harry's thoughts, though, the Headmaster might try and dissuade him or redirect his attention elsewhere before he'd had the chance to think things over in full, and weigh all of his options.

On the other hand, was making this decision by himself really even an option? He could readily admit that his changing opinion of the Headmaster and his actions was strongly influenced by his emotions. Hermione would be able to set the emotions aside, and help him look at his concerns logically and rationally. Together, they'd be able to work through all of Harry's misgivings towards their Headmaster, and figure out what Harry should do next. Plus, she would be able to help him figure out exactly what his options were.

If they didn't reach the same conclusions, and she wound up telling Dumbledore just how betrayed and misled Harry felt? Well, Harry would cross that bridge when he came to it. Because when it came right down to it, he couldn't take the next step in his life, whatever that might wind up being, alone. He needed someone alongside him. Someone he could trust, someone who would always look out for him, no matter what.

He needed Hermione Granger, his best friend.

His decision made, Harry let out a deep breath, glanced around once again to reassure himself that they were quite alone, and prepared to share his thoughts with Hermione.

“It all comes down to Dumbledore,” he said quietly. “I don't trust him any more.”

“What do you mean? What did he do?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“It's not so much what he did...it's more what he didn't do,” Harry said with a grimace on his face. “You know that prophecy that Voldemort was after, that he lured us into the Department of Mysteries to get?”

“Of course,” Hermione interjected. “Are you saying Dumbledore knew about the prophecy, and didn't tell you? Is that why you're angry with him?”

“Not only did he know of it, he knew what it said. Word-for-word. My parents died because of that prophecy, and yet he went all these years without telling me about it. Even if he'd just told me that it existed and that Voldemort would be after it, I would've understood that Voldemort was trying to lead me into a trap. But he left me completely in the dark, and I fell for Voldemort's tricks. Ginny's broken ankle, Neville's broken nose, Ron being attacked by those brains, you nearly being killed, and Si-Sirius being murdered...it all happened for nothing! It all happened because Dumbledore deliberately withheld things that I needed to know!” Harry finished hotly.

“I see,” Hermione said, frowning in disappointment that the respected Headmaster had concealed something of such importance from Harry. “That is indeed a grave mistake. I understand why you're so upset with him about this, Harry. It'll be hard for you to fully trust him after this. But is this reason enough for you to leave Hogwarts? Or is there more to it?”

“There's more. There's loads more,” Harry assured her. “For one thing, he knew exactly what the prophecy said. He knew what it meant for me, for my future. Yet he's done nothing to help prepare me for that future.”

“This prophecy...what did it say?” Hermione hesitantly asked. She was almost afraid to hear it, knowing that it would mean nothing good for her friend. But she needed to know what he was dealing with, so she could try and help him.

Harry opened his mouth to share the prophecy with her, but before he could begin, they were both startled by the door opening. Madam Pomfrey walked in, and approached Hermione's bedside.

“Time to have a look at that injury, Miss Granger. You'll have to remove your shirt, of course, which means it is time for Mister Potter to leave.”

“Actually, could you give us just a minute, Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione interrupted. “Harry and I were discussing something, and I'd really like to finish our conversation before he leaves. It'll only take a minute, I promise.”

At first, the healer was going to insist that the boy leave so she could perform her examination immediately. But something in the girl's tone, and the look on her face, seemed to suggest that this was a conversation of great importance.

“Very well. I have a bit of cleaning to take care of anyhow. I will be back shortly, so say whatever it is you have to say,” the healer commanded. She headed in the direction of her office, which was far enough away to allow the teens to speak privately, so long as they were quiet.

Hermione watched to make sure that the healer was well out of earshot before she returned her attention to Harry.

“We don't have much time, Harry, so we'll save the prophecy, and whatever else is bothering you, for later. But before you go, promise me that you won't take any action or make any decisions before we've had a chance to discuss things. Please?” she begged, squeezing his arm to emphasize her concern.

“I promise,” Harry reassured her. “But if your injury is healing as well as you say it is, she'll be discharging you from the hospital wing soon. It might be hard for us to speak in private when that happens. Ron will be around most of the time.”

“You don't want to tell Ron about this?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Not yet, at least. It's not that I don't trust him. I do. But, it's just...being raised in magical Britain like he was, he's had this reverence for Albus Dumbledore drilled into him almost from birth. Most people seem to think he can do no wrong, and is incapable of making mistakes. But not you. I know you've always admired Dumbledore a great deal; so have I. But you're like me. You didn't know who the man was until just before you started here at Hogwarts. You're more likely to be able to acknowledge his faults than Ron, who has been hearing how great Dumbledore is since he was in nappies. Plus, you've always been able to set your feelings aside, and look at things reasonably. You're the only one I want to talk to about this, Hermione. At least for now.”

“OK, I understand your point,” Hermione said. “We won't discuss this with, Ron, then. At least not right away. That will make it more difficult for us to find time for this, because if we ask Ron to leave us alone for a bit, it might raise some questions we don't really need to deal with yet. And the term is ending in just days. Perhaps we can talk through owl post during the summer?” she offered.

Harry shook his head. “No good. Aside from the possibility that an owl could be intercepted by a Death Eater, there's also Dumbledore to consider. If Dumbledore had people guarding Privet Drive last summer, when Voldemort was still laying low, I'm sure he'll do the same now that everyone knows the git really is back. And I wouldn't put it past that old man to have his guards take a look at any owls I send or receive, so he can keep tabs on me and what I'm thinking and feeling.”

“Very well; owls are out then,” Hermione conceded. She chewed her lower lip in thought, before her face suddenly brightened as she came up with an alternative. “What about muggle post?”

“You mean, just exchange letters through standard mail?”

“Absolutely!” Hermione said excitedly. “It takes care of both problems. Voldemort and his Death Eaters despise all things muggle; they'd never even think to check the muggle post. And there'd be no reason for Dumbledore or his supporters to check your mail, either. So long as you're still sending Hedwig out to deliver other letters that don't contain anything important, they shouldn't think anything is out of the ordinary.”

“It could work,” Harry began slowly, before he noticed a flaw in the plan. “But Dumbledore knows that I didn't have any friends before I started at Hogwarts. If I suddenly started going out regularly to send mail, wouldn't that make them suspicious?”

“You're right. That would look suspicious, since the Dursleys made sure you never made any friends,” Hermione said, deflating slightly. She thought it over for a moment, and offered up a solution. “What if you asked the Dursleys to send your letters for you? If they just included your post with theirs, Dumbledore would have no way of knowing, unless he actually checked the envelopes. And as long as you continue to send Hedwig out with letters to your usual contacts, myself included, I don't see any reason why he would check the Dursleys' post.”

“That would work, yeah, but why would the Dursleys agree to it? They go out of their way to make life miserable for me. I don't think there's any way I could get them to go along with it,” Harry said.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey announced her impending return with a louder-than-necessary cough. The two teens locked eyes, realising that their time was up.

“I'm sure you'll figure it out, Harry. I'll let you send the first letter, so I can be sure that you've reached some kind of understanding with the Dursleys before you begin receiving anything from me. Now go; Pomfrey's almost back. And remember: you can tell me anything, Harry. I'll always do whatever I can to help you.”

“I know you will. I can trust you, Hermione, I know I can. And I'm glad you're willing to listen. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're very important to me, Hermione,” Harry finished.

Harry gathered his things and stood up to leave, nodding at Madam Pomfrey as he passed her. As he reached the door, Harry turned around and flashed a grin at Hermione before he exited.

Hermione returned the grin, and after he left, she silently began unbuttoning her top so the healer could perform her check-up. As she sat there, Hermione thought about the conversation she'd just had. She was extremely concerned about Harry. She could see how bothered he was with everything that had happened recently. From this prophecy, whatever it said, to his mistrust of Dumbledore, to the injuries suffered by his friends, and of course, the death of his godfather, Harry had a lot to deal with. But she silently vowed that she would stand by him every step of the way. She'd be there to comfort him if he needed to share his grief over what had happened to Sirius. She'd be there to help him deal with the prophecy, and whatever it meant concerning his future. She'd be there to listen to his doubts about the man some regarded as the greatest wizard since Merlin himself, Albus Dumbledore.

If she could help him work through his misgivings towards the Headmaster and agree to return to the school they'd called home for five years, she'd be there to watch over him, to make sure that Dumbledore wasn't trying to hide anything else from him.

If she couldn't refute his arguments, and he wound up leaving the school? She'd do the same. She would follow him anywhere, to any end, just as she'd done when she couldn't dissuade him from going to the Ministry. He was the most important person in her life, bar none. He was her best friend.

And, though she held no illusions about him feeling the same way, she knew that to her, he was more than that.

A/N: There's the first chapter. Unlike my last story, I have a solid grasp of where this one is going. I've got brief outlines written out for the first 10 chapters, and have a rough idea of where the story is going over the long haul. Hopefully you all will like it. Reviews, suggestions, comments and constructive criticism are, as always, welcome.

2. 2. All Aboard

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 2: All Aboard

Harry Potter had boarded the train that would bring him back from Hogwarts many times. Most of the times he'd made this trip in the past, he'd done so with reluctance and sadness, as he would much rather have stayed in the castle with his friends than go back to the wretched existence waiting for him at 4 Privet Drive.

This time, he didn't mind leaving Hogwarts behind. He had some serious thinking to do. Plus, if he could figure out a way to get the Dursleys to go along with their plan, he and Hermione would finally have the chance to pick up where they'd left off in the hospital wing.

Harry, who had been silently thinking ahead to what promised to be a very eventful summer, was brought out of his musings by a tug on his sleeve. He turned to look at Hermione, who was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to stop daydreaming. Once she saw that she had Harry's attention, Hermione spoke.

“Ron and I have a prefect meeting to go to. We'll catch up with you later, Harry,” Hermione said.

“Sure,” Harry agreed, “I'll see you both in a bit. Later, mate,” he said to Ron, who nodded back at him as he followed Hermione.

The two prefects moved away from their friend, but not before Hermione turned back around and gave Harry a brief, worried smile. Harry returned the smile, knowing that Hermione had been deeply concerned about him since their talk in the hospital wing a few days earlier. The simple fact that Hermione knew about at least some of the things that were currently running through his mind made Harry feel lighter, somehow. At least he had someone in his corner, who he knew he could trust to help him.

With that thought in mind, he had no problem giving Hermione a genuine smile, a smile that told her not to worry, that he'd be fine for the time being. Hermione's smile widened, and Harry could see the relief on her face. With a final nod in Harry's direction, Hermione turned back around and resumed her walk. She was oblivious to the confused look on the face of Ron, who had seen the silent exchange between his two best friends. Ron looked back and forth between the two, trying to figure out what had just happened. After a few seconds, he gave up, shrugging his shoulders and following after Hermione.

After watching his friends head off to deal with their prefect business, Harry made his way through the train. He ignored the now-familiar stares and whispered conversations that followed him wherever he went, and focused instead on finding an open compartment.

A group of giggling younger girls (Harry guessed that they were probably 2nd or 3rd years) invited him to join them in their compartment, but Harry declined as politely as he could manage. He had no interest in spending the entire train ride surrounded by a group of 'Boy-Who-Lived' admirers.

“Harry! Harry, in here!”

Recognizing that voice, Harry turned his head. He saw Ginny, sitting in an open compartment with Neville and Luna. The redhead waved her arm, motioning for Harry to join them.

“Hello, Harry,” Neville said as Harry sat down beside him.

“Hi, Neville,” Harry responded.

Harry exchanged pleasantries with all three of his friends, but the conversation soon turned to topics of far greater significance than the end of year exams and summer vacation plans.

“So, Harry...how are you doing?” Ginny asked hesitantly.

Harry didn't need to ask what she meant. All four of them knew exactly what she was really asking: how was he coping with the death of his godfather?

“I'm...well, it's hard, obviously. I didn't have the chance to get to know him nearly as well as I wanted to, but he was still the closest thing I've ever had to a father, or a family.”

“You know my father would do whatever he could to help you, right? Any of us Weasleys would...well, aside from that git Percy, maybe,” Ginny said earnestly.

“Of course I do. Your family has been great to me, and I'll always be grateful to all of you,” Harry reassured her, “but it was just...different, somehow, with Sirius. He was the person that my parents chose to raise me if something happened to them. He was like a link to my parents, and now he's gone.”

“He's not gone forever, Harry. You'll see him again someday. And you'll see your parents as well, of course,” Luna said serenely.

“I hope you're right, Luna,” Harry responded, a sad smile on his face.

“How's Hermione? Is her wound fully healed?” Neville asked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Neville might have had good intentions in changing the subject, but this was a topic that was no more comfortable for Harry. He looked down at his feet and frowned.

“Pomfrey cleared her, and Hermione says she feels just fine. But I know she's lying,” Harry said tensely.

“You don't think it's more serious than she let on, do you?” Ginny asked worriedly.

“Not really,” Harry said, shaking his head, “but she's still in some pain. I can tell.”

“I'm sure it'll go away soon,” Neville said reassuringly. “She'll be just fine, just like the rest of us.”

Neville had just touched on something else that had been bothering Harry: his guilt over foolishly leading all five of his friends into what had been a near-death situation.

“About that...listen, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have led you guys into that situation. I should have known that...”

“Harry, stop,” Ginny interrupted, waving him off. “None of us regret going with you, and none of us blame you for what happened.”

“But...” Harry tried to protest.

“No, Harry,” Ginny insisted, “I'm not going to let you blame yourself for my ankle, Neville's nose, Hermione's chest, or anything else. You're always saving people, helping people. You needed help from someone else for a change, and the five of us did whatever we could for you. I don't regret that. I don't regret going with you, and I don't regret standing beside you and fighting back.”

“She's right, Harry,” Neville added. “None of us blame you. You thought your godfather's life was in danger. There was no way we were going to let you run off to save him all by yourself. Besides, you didn't ask us to come along; we chose to come.”

“I agree; you are blameless, Harry,” Luna said. “We wished to help you, just as you always help others. We knew it would be dangerous, but we went with you anyway.”

“Still, I shouldn't have let you come, no matter how much you argued,” Harry objected.

“We'd have just followed right behind you, Harry,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “Get this through your head, Potter: it wasn't your fault. You were tricked, by one of the most powerful wizards of all time. I know something about that, remember? I can hardly blame you for making that mistake, can I?”

Harry nodded slowly, accepting that Ginny could offer a unique perspective. As she had reminded him over the Christmas break, she knew all about Voldemort and how devious he could be. But she wasn't done just yet.

“Besides, Harry...how do you think that night would have gone without us there? Or even if the three of us hadn't come, and you'd had just Ron and Hermione with you? With the six of us, we were lucky that our injuries weren't much worse. Would you have been able to hold on until the Order arrived, just the three of you? If you ask me, it's a good thing you didn't have to find out.”

Harry looked around the compartment at all three of his newest friends, trying to decide if they really they did not hold their brush with injury, or even death, against him. Seeing nothing that would suggest otherwise, Harry relaxed slightly.

“Thanks, guys,” Harry began. “I can't help feeling a bit guilty, but I'm glad that the three of you aren't angry with me. After what we went through together this year, I think of all three of you as friends now. Merlin knows, I can't afford to lose too many of those. I don't have very many as it is.”

“I'm sure loads of people would love to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived,” Neville said with a teasing smile on his face.

“Probably,” Harry agreed, returning the smile, “but those aren't real friends. Not like you guys.”

With that, the mood lightened considerably. The four of them chatted pleasantly for a few minutes, until they were eventually joined by Ron and Hermione. Ron went to sit beside his sister, joining her and Luna on one side, while Hermione sat down next to Harry on the other side.

“How was the meeting?” Harry asked, once Hermione had settled in.

“It was fine,” Hermione responded. “Malfoy was even more insufferable than usual, but other than that, there was nothing worth mentioning.”

“I guess that makes sense about Malfoy,” Harry said. “He's obviously heard about the fight in the Department of Mysteries, and he knows that daddy dearest is off to Azkaban. It's only natural that he'd be an even bigger git than usual.”

“Maybe his daddy being locked up will knock that arrogant plonker down a peg or two,” Ron said, smirking at the thought.

“It'll probably just make him angry, actually,” Hermione speculated. “Especially with Harry. I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to retaliate at some point.”

“Let him try,” Harry said.

“Don't antagonize him, Harry,” Hermione warned. “You have enough to deal with.”

“Don't worry, Hermione. I'm not going to seek him out. But if the git tries to avenge his dad by coming after me, or any of you, I'm not going to back down.”

Hermione still didn't look completely satisfied with Harry's answer, but she let the matter drop for the time being. For the next several minutes, the“Ministry Six”, as they'd been dubbed by The Daily Prophet, chatted about various things, including the DA, Umbridge, and their battle with Voldemort's Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. As they were talking about what the Ministry's next step might be now that Voldemort's return had finally been acknowledged, they were interrupted by a knock on the compartment door.

The door opened to reveal Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor boy in Harry's year that had shared a dorm with he and Ron all five years at Hogwarts.

But Dean wasn't there to speak with either of his dorm mates. He had eyes only for Ginny.

“Hey, Ginny. Ready for summer?” Dean asked, a playful smile on his face.

“Of course,” Ginny answered, smiling right back at him. “Sorry, Dean, but there's not really any more room in this compartment.”

“Oh, that's OK. Seamus and I already found a compartment, actually. I just wanted to say goodbye now, because I didn't know if I'd have time later.”

“That's sweet,” Ginny said, smiling even wider now.

“Well, I guess I'll be going back to my compartment, then. I'll write soon, Ginny,” Dean said.

“You better,” Ginny said, smirking. “Have a great summer, Dean. Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon,” Dean echoed with a smile. “Bye, everyone.”

And with that, Dean left as quickly as he'd arrived, shutting the compartment door behind him.

“What was all that about?” Ron asked suspiciously.

Ginny turned her head to fix her older brother with a threatening glare before she responded to him.

“Dean and I are dating now,” she said, her tone warning him not to make a fuss.

Ron's face turned red, and his eyes narrowed to slits. Clearly, he objected to this bit of news. However, his fear of his sister's bat bogey hex was enough to keep him quiet.

“I thought you were seeing Michael Corner,” Harry asked, confused.

“I was. We broke up,” Ginny replied, simply.

“I'm sorry...” Harry began, but Ginny cut him off.

“Don't be. It wasn't going anywhere, and besides, I think he fancies Cho Chang.”

“Well...that's good, then . As for Dean: I don't know him that well, but he's always seemed a decent bloke. He should treat you right. And if he doesn't, well, he'll hear about it from me,” Harry said, smiling at Ginny.

“Great. Another overprotective “brother.” Just what I needed,” Ginny said in response, though the smile on her face made it obvious that she wasn't truly upset with Harry.

Ron grumbled and muttered under his breath, still displeased with the latest development in his sister's love life. But fortunately for both he and his nostrils, he had the sense to keep his objections to himself.

Harry, meanwhile, silently marvelled at how much closer he felt to the youngest Weasley after the events of his 5th year. Until this year, she'd hardly been able to form a sentence in his presence without blushing as red as a tomato, stuttering, stammering, and just making him feel very uncomfortable and awkward in general. But she'd evidently put that schoolgirl crush behind her, and he now felt like he finally knew her as her own person. He thought of her as Ginny, his friend, rather than Ginny, Ron's younger sister. Now that she could carry on a regular conversation with him, he'd gotten to know her: her personality, her bravery, her sense of humour. He considered her a true friend.

The same could be said for Neville and Luna. He and Neville had been mere acquaintances before this year, and he'd never even been properly introduced to Luna. But after everything that they had gone through together that year, first in the DA and their defiance of Umbridge, and then in the Department of Mysteries, he genuinely trusted them and counted them among his very small circle of friends.

If he did make the decision to drop out of or transfer from Hogwarts, he would certainly miss his three new friends. Perhaps not as much as Ron or Hermione, but still...

Could he really walk away from Hogwarts? Away from the only people he'd ever really thought of as friends, and the only place he'd found any sort of happiness? Even if the school was less safe than he'd been led to believe, and even if he'd lost faith in Dumbledore, could he actually leave all of this behind?

Harry wasn't sure of the answer. But he was hopeful that, once he'd had the chance to go over all of his grievances and concerns with Hermione, she'd be able to help him find it.

**

In spite of everything he'd been through over the past year, and the past week or so in particular, Harry found this train ride back quite relaxing. The friendly banter and idle chatter between he and the five friends who had gone with him to the Ministry allowed him to forget about all of his troubles, for a little while at least.

Eventually, though, the trip was at an end. All six students gathered their things, exited the compartment, and started towards the exit of the train. Harry lagged behind the rest of his friends, as he was in no hurry to depart the train and make it to his “reunion” with the Dursleys. Many students tried to talk to Harry or get his attention as he walked past them, but he ignored them all, making straight for the exit without stopping, his head down.

Because Harry's head was down, he did not see the arm reaching for his shoulder, nor the face of the person it belonged to.

Harry, startled, shook free of the hand on his shoulder and spun around, his wand out in a flash as he prepared to defend himself. He found himself looking into the wide, terrified eyes of his former girlfriend, Cho Chang.

It took a moment for Harry to recognize the familiar face, but once he did, he abruptly lowered his wand and tried to calm himself down. He took several deep, calming breaths before he returned his attention to Cho, who still looked somewhat frightened.

“Sorry about that, Cho. I've just been a little tense lately, and you caught me by surprise,” Harry said apologetically, his breathing still slightly heavy.

“That's OK, Harry. After everything you've been through, it's understandable. I'm sorry I snuck up on you like that,” Cho said in understanding, though Harry could tell she was still unnerved by how he'd reacted.

“Anyway, was there something you wanted, Cho?” Harry asked, assuming she must have had some reason for seeking his attention.

“Yes, there was, Harry. I wanted to say I'm sorry for how things ended between us, with, you know, Marietta and all. I know we had our problems, but I hope we can still at least be friends?”

“Sure, Cho, yeah,” Harry agreed.

If he and Cho were to be “friends”, Harry had no earthly idea what they'd talk about beyond Quidditch, but he wasn't about to say that out loud.

“Good. Thanks, Harry,” Cho said, beaming at him.

Somehow, Cho's wide smile didn't have quite the effect on Harry that it would have months earlier. He still thought she was very pretty, to be sure. But there was just something...missing. He didn't feel the same attraction, the same pull, that he'd felt towards her before.

Glancing ahead, and seeing Hermione waiting for him near the door, Harry decided it was time to wrap this conversation up.

“Well, I guess I'd better get going. Have a nice summer, Cho,” Harry said.

“You too, Harry. Have a nice summer. And stay safe,” she added, giving him a peck on the cheek before he left.

Harry barely reacted to the kiss, merely smiling and nodding at Cho before he began walking towards the exit.

He never saw the brief frown that crossed Hermione's face.

**

“So, what did Cho want?” Hermione asked, once Harry had caught up to her.

“Oh, not much, really. She just said she was sorry about how things ended between us, and she hoped we could still be friends.”

“Friends?” Hermione repeated, sounding sceptical. “Since when were the two of you ever...friends?”

“I was sort of thinking the same thing, actually,” Harry said. “On our one and only date, we had pretty much nothing to talk about besides Quidditch. But she's nice enough, I guess.”

“Yes, she is,” Hermione agreed, “but I highly doubt she just wants to be your “friend”, Harry.”

“You think she actually wants to start that up again?” Harry inquired. Hermione nodded, and Harry shook his head in disbelief. “After how terribly it went last time? Why?”

“Don't ask me, Harry,” Hermione said, suddenly sounding rather irritated with him. “Cho may know that the two of you didn't go very well together the first time, but that doesn't mean her feelings for you just went away. Love and romance aren't very rational, you know. You can't control who you're attracted to.”

“I guess,” Harry said.

“Come on, Harry, everyone's waiting for us outside,” Hermione said, changing the subject.

Harry followed her off of the train in silence, trying to figure out why she'd snapped at him all of a sudden.

'I don't think I'll ever understand girls', Harry decided.

**

As soon as Harry and Hermione stepped off of the train at King's Cross, Tonks and Lupin, who had been assigned guard duty, approached them.

“Wotcher, Harry,” Tonks greeted, though without her usual enthusiasm.

“Hello, Tonks,” Harry replied. “How are you feeling? I know Bellatrix got the better of you during our battle.”

“Oh, just fine, Harry,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively. “Not bad enough to keep me off-duty, obviously.”

“I think the real question is, how are you, Harry?” Lupin said quietly.

“Me? Just fine. Hermione was hurt worse than I was,” Harry said.

“You know that's not what I meant, Harry,” Lupin gently scolded. “How are you feeling after...after losing Sirius?”

“It's hard, Remus, I'm not going to lie,” Harry said honestly. “I think I'm still trying to accept that he's really...gone.”

Lupin reached out and patted his former student's shoulder gently, while Hermione gripped one of his hands tightly, both of them trying to will some comfort into Harry.

“I completely understand, Harry. I'm having a hard time coming to grips with it myself. Just remember that you aren't alone. If you ever need to talk about it, or anything else, please feel free to come to me. Or send me an owl if there's no way for us to meet in person,” Remus pleaded.

“Me too, Harry,” Hermione insisted. “You can talk to me about anything.”

All Harry could manage in response was a simple “Thanks.” His trust in Dumbledore might have been shaken, but it was comforting to know that he wasn't alone. He trusted Hermione more than anyone else he knew, of course, and among the adults in his life, he felt particularly close to Remus.

Remus earned his trust during the trio's third year, when he was Harry's DADA professor and helped him learn the Patronus charm. Thus far, he'd been the only competent DADA instructor Harry had had. And aside from that, there were other reasons Harry was tempted to confide in Remus. With Sirius gone, Remus was essentially the last link Harry had to his parents. The last surviving Marauder...well, aside from Wormtail, but Harry obviously wouldn't be chatting with that traitor any time soon.

Still, he couldn't turn to Remus Lupin. Not just yet, at least. He knew the werewolf cared for him and would do whatever he could to help him, but he also knew that he felt indebted towards Dumbledore. And for good reason; Dumbledore had done quite a bit to help him over the years. If he were to go to Lupin at the moment, Harry couldn't be sure that he would be able to set his gratitude towards Dumbledore aside, and give him sound and unbiased advice.

Later on, perhaps he'd be able to look at Lupin as a confidant of sorts. But at that moment, Hermione was the only person he trusted implicitly. She was the only one who might be able to look past Dumbledore the legend, and focus on Dumbledore the man. A man who was prone to mistakes, just like any other man.

“Oh, Harry!”

Harry turned at the cry, and found himself quickly engulfed in a hug from Molly Weasley. She squeezed him even tighter than usual, if that were actually possible, and he could tell that it was a struggle for her not to burst into tears.

“Oh, Harry, you dear boy! Why must everything happen to you?” Mrs. Weasley sobbed.

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, his voice muffled as the Weasley matriarch continued to try and hug the grief and sorrow right out of him.

“Molly,” Mr. Weasley began, “why don't you let Harry go? The poor lad's likely to suffocate if you keep that up.”

Mrs. Weasley reluctantly released Harry, and ruffled his hair affectionately before standing aside so her husband could approach the boy they both thought of as almost a seventh son.

“Hello, Harry,” Mr. Weasley greeted, sticking out his hand for Harry to shake.

“Hullo, Mr. Weasley,” Harry replied, shaking the proffered hand.

“I'm sorry you have to go back with the Dursleys, Harry. You really should be around friends right now,” Mr. Weasley said.

“It's OK, Mr. Weasley. I have a lot of things I need to think about, and honestly, Privet Drive isn't a bad place to get some thinking done. Lots of time to myself,” Harry said.

It was true, Harry knew. He'd have had a much better time at the Burrow, surrounded by people who actually liked him and cared about him, but for the serious thinking he knew he needed to do, the solitude of Privet Drive would actually be better suited. Not to mention the fact that he needed access to the muggle post to communicate with Hermione without fear of interference from Dumbledore or the rest of the Order.

“Well, I'll be speaking with Dumbledore about you coming to stay at the Burrow as soon as possible,” Mrs. Weasley promised. “And if I have anything to say about it, you will be visiting on your birthday. We'll throw you a party. A big one, to make up for all the years those...relatives of yours ignored it.”

“That's nice, Mrs. Weasley, but I don't need anything big. If you can manage to talk Dumbledore into letting me visit for the day, something small would be fine.” At the moment, Harry didn't care whether anyone even acknowledged his birthday. He certainly wasn't in any mood to celebrate. But he knew Mrs. Weasley would insist, so he settled on trying to keep it small.

“There you are, boy! Let's get going, then!”

Harry turned his head to see his uncle Vernon glaring at him, with Aunt Petunia standing right beside her husband, and looking just as unhappy to be there.

Harry took a step towards his uncle and aunt, but before he could get any further, Lupin stepped in front of him and approached the Dursleys himself.

“Hello, Vernon and Petunia. I do not believe we have met, but I've heard much about you, of course. My name is Remus Lupin, and I went to school with both of Harry's parents.”

“If you went to that freak school, then you're not anyone I want to be talking to,” Vernon grumbled. “Just get out of my way so I can take that ungrateful boy and get as far away from you and your kind as possible.”

Lupin's eyes narrowed thanks to Vernon's confrontational attitude, but before he could truly react, Mrs. Weasley got involved.

“That boy is one of the kindest, most polite, selfless children I've ever met. I'm not sure what's wrong with you and your family, but if you can't appreciate what a wonderful nephew you have, you are the freaks!”

“I will not be spoken to by you freaks in such a...” Vernon began, his face red with rage, but Mr. Weasley cut him off this time.

“Yes, we know all about your feelings towards magic, and towards Harry. That's why we came over to speak with you. We wished to give you fair warning.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Petunia asked, joining in the conversation for the first time.

“What that means, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, is that we do not want to hear any stories about you mistreating Harry this summer,” Remus answered. “That poor young man has been through quite enough in his life, and does not need to deal with your abuse on top of it.”

“Abuse?” Vernon spat. “I'll have you know that I've never beaten the boy! But maybe I should have! I might have been able to beat that nonsense out of him before you freaks screwed him up for good!”

“Be thankful that you never did beat him. Otherwise, this would be a very different conversation,” Lupin nearly growled. “But we've heard bits and pieces of what Harry's life is like when he is under your roof. And I warn you now that any poor treatment of Harry will not be tolerated.”

Harry could see that Lupin's warning had made his aunt and uncle quite nervous. But it was Hermione who drove the point home.

“Harry is my best friend, and one of the most important people in my life. I will never forgive you for the way you've treated him his whole life. He is a better person than either of you could ever hope to be. So from now on, when he's in your home, you'd better leave him alone, in peace. If you don't...you will regret it, Merlin help me.”

Even Harry had to suppress a shiver after Hermione's threat. He'd never heard her speak with such intensity, such...menace. He was now fervently hoping that he would never make Hermione angry enough to speak to him in that way.

The point had been made, and it was clear that the Dursleys got the message. After one look at Vernon's face, Harry knew that they would leave him well alone, and would do whatever they could to make sure Dudley did the same.

“V-very well, then,” Vernon stammered. “We'll just go and wait, then, while you say goodbye to the frea—err...that is, say goodbye to your friends.”

Vernon wrapped his arm around his wife, and the two of them moved quickly, putting as much distance between themselves and Harry's group of friends as possible while still keeping him in sight. Harry chuckled, and turned to the group surrounding him.

“That wasn't really necessary, but thanks anyway, I suppose,” Harry said.

“I meant it, Harry. You shouldn't have to put up with anything from those nasty people, not on top of everything else you have to deal with. The Order will be watching over you, of course, but if you need any help dealing with the Dursleys, you can always contact me,” Lupin assured him.

“I doubt I'll need to. With the way you all scared them, I think they'll be avoiding me at all costs,” Harry said.

“You're probably right,” Mr. Weasley agreed with a laugh. “Especially Hermione. Even I was frightened of her just then.”

Hermione blushed, and smiled slightly, but said nothing. Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and, seeing the time, realised he needed to get moving.

“Well, I think we'd better get going, Molly,” he said. “See you soon, Harry.”

Harry nodded in farewell to Mr. Weasley, and submitted himself to another tight hug from Mrs. Weasley before saying goodbye to her as well. He nodded at Ron, Ginny and the twins, who had, on their parent's orders, stayed back and watched the confrontation with the Dursleys from afar.

Harry scanned the crowd, looking for Neville and Luna, but could not find them. Shrugging, he said a quick farewell to Lupin and Tonks before turning to Hermione. He noticed tears welling up in her eyes, and quickly tried to avert the crisis that is a crying girl.

“Hey now, none of that. I'll see you soon, yeah?” Harry said, trying to comfort her. Hermione shook her head rapidly, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and exhaled a deep breath. She clasped one of his hands between both of hers, and tilted her head up slightly to look him in the eyes.

“Remember your promise, Harry,” she whispered. “You aren't going to do anything until we've discussed all of this.”

“Of course, Hermione. I won't make any decisions about my future until we've gone through everything together. Honestly, without you, I don't think I'd even be able to figure out what all of my options are,” he said teasingly. He was rewarded for his attempt at humour with a slight laugh from Hermione, which raised Harry's own spirits a bit.

“So long as we understand each other, Potter,” she fired back. “Take care of yourself, Harry, and try to keep an open mind about Dumbledore,” she said, suddenly turning serious. Harry's only response was a nod, but he held eye contact with her to show that he was taking her words to heart. It might be hard for him to look past his anger over what had happened to Sirius, but he would do his best to try and see things from Dumbledore's perspective.

Stifling a sob, Hermione launched herself into Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him tightly.

With Mrs. Weasley's hugs, Harry had simply accepted them. He allowed her to hug him, but didn't actively participate.

Not so with this hug. This time, he returned the affection, wrapping his arms around Hermione's waist and clutching her just as tightly as she was clutching him.

Though he'd never say it out loud, Harry was enjoying this hug quite a bit more than the ones he'd received minutes earlier, or even the ones Hermione had given him in the past. With the way Hermione's body had developed over the years, this hug felt...different. Better.

Shaking away those sudden crude and unwanted thoughts about his best friend, Harry removed his arms from around Hermione's waist and took a step back. He looked back over his shoulder to see the Dursleys waiting impatiently, and knew that it was time for him to leave.

“Well...guess I'll see you later, then,” Harry said reluctantly, not wanting to leave Hermione behind.

“Of course. And remember, Harry: write soon,” she said with a wink and a grin.

Harry turned and began walking towards the Dursleys, but not before he'd laughed. It was not a deep laugh, nor a long one, but it was still the first time he'd truly laughed, truly found amusement in anything, since Sirius had been killed.

'Hermione to the rescue, as usual,' Harry thought.

Prophecy be damned. With her helping him, he'd be just fine.

**

A/N: Not really sure how I feel about this chapter. I hadn't even planned on writing it initially; Chapter 2 was going to be centred around Harry and Hermione sending letters back and forth. But I decided to throw this chapter in so I could give some face time to characters who likely won't be doing much for the next few chapters, like Remus and Mr & Mrs. Weasley. Hopefully you enjoyed it well enough.

Also, I was very pleasantly surprised with the response to Chapter 1, which as best I can tell, received more reviews than any of the chapters in my previous story, What He'll Sorely Miss? I hope you guys (and gals) enjoy the rest of the story going forward. Your reviews are most welcome!

3. 3. Pen Pals

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 3: Pen Pals

Harry Potter handed his envelope to his Aunt Petunia, who accepted it and added it to her own outgoing mail before turning and leaving Harry's room without a word, shutting the door behind her.

After the not-so-subtle threat the Dursleys had received when they picked him up from King's Crossing, it hadn't proved too difficult for Harry to convince them to help him out. He'd casually mentioned that Hermione fully intended to write him on a regular basis throughout the summer, and would expect Harry to answer each and every one of her letters promptly. Their brief encounter with Hermione had been enough for the Dursleys to decide that doing anything to draw her ire would be a very bad move.

From there, it'd been an easy thing. Uncle Vernon had been reluctant to agree, simply because he hated the idea of doing anything that might be to Harry's benefit. But Aunt Petunia had brought him around by pointing out that, if “the boy” and “that bushy-haired girl” were going to be writing each other regularly, it would be far better for them to do so through the regular post, rather than having “that ruddy owl” travelling back and forth with the letters. The thought of Harry's owl being set loose even more frequently than usual was enough to get Vernon's grudging approval.

With that agreement having been reached, and knowing she'd be anxiously waiting to hear from him, Harry wasted little time in beginning to write his first letter to Hermione. He decided to forego any discussion of the prophecy, or any mention of his nagging doubts about Headmaster Dumbledore. He wanted to be sure that the Order would not intercept their letters before he included anything that sensitive.

Instead, he'd written this first letter more as a simple letter between friends. Perhaps there were a few things in there that he'd feel rather embarrassed sharing with someone like Remus or Tonks, but he didn't include anything that he absolutely did not want them to read. This first letter was more of a trial run. Now, he just needed to sit back, do his best to pretend the Dursleys did not exist, and wait for Hermione's reply.

--NMM--

“Hermione, that letter from your friend Harry is here.”

With a girlish squeal that would have shocked Harry and Ron had they heard it, Hermione set aside the book she'd been reading, bolted out of her room, raced down the stairs, and snatched the envelope from her mother's hands.

“Excited?” Jane Granger teased, amused at her daughter's reaction.

“Of course! I've been dying to hear from Harry!” Hermione answered emphatically.

“You know, I was surprised when you told us that you and Harry would be writing each other regularly over the summer. I don't remember him being much of a letter writer before now.”

“He's matured. Plus, he said he wants my advice on a few things,” Hermione answered. It was the truth, of course, but she still felt a bit guilty.

If her parents knew everything that Harry (and herself, by proxy) had been through, and exactly what he wanted her advice on, their reaction would likely be much different. Hermione didn't like concealing things from her parents, but she didn't see any other alternative. They wouldn't be able to understand that she'd chosen this life for herself, chosen to stand by Harry, even knowing the danger. Better to keep them in the dark, rather than having to justify the choices she'd made.

“Well, if he wants answers, he's writing to the right person,” her mother said with a grin. “You still haven't really explained why you're using the post, though. Didn't you usually use that owl when you wanted to write to him before?”

“Yes, but since we plan on sending regular letters back and forth, we just thought it would be easier this way. Besides, Harry's aunt and uncle don't really like Hedwig. I'm sure they're happy that we'll be using the post,” Hermione called as she made her way back up the stairs and to her room. She closed the door behind her and took a seat at her desk, eagerly opening the envelope and pulling out Harry's letter. Hermione smiled in anticipation as she began to read.

Dear Hermione,

As you can see, I've convinced the Dursleys to mail this letter for me. Given their hatred for Hedwig, not to mention that they are now scared to death of you, it wasn't even a hard sell. Nice work!

I've spent like 15 minutes trying to figure out the best way to start this letter. I haven't come up with anything good so far, so I'm just going to start writing and see what happens.

I'm sure you're reading some book you'd love to talk about, but you know I'm hopeless there. You aren't Ron, so a quidditch talk isn't going to work. I just saw you a few days ago, on the train ride back from Hogwarts, so it seems kind of stupid for me to ask how you're doing. Well, I could ask about your injury. How is that feeling, anyway? I know you kept saying you're “fine”, but I could tell that it was still bothering you a bit. How is it now, honestly? And don't just say “it's fine.” It never works when I say it to you, so why should it work any better when you try to use it on me?

Speaking of your injury, I want to say again that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, and I'm sorry I nearly got you killed. I know that you, and the others, have told me that it wasn't my fault, and I shouldn't blame myself. I appreciate that, and I don't completely blame myself, not any more. But I still think that I deserve at least some of the blame for what happened. I should have listened to what you were saying. Because I didn't, the six of us walked right into Voldemort's trap. Was it all my fault? No. But at the least, I should have thought things through a bit more, and not let my emotions keep me from taking your objections to heart. Hopefully, I won't make that same mistake in the future.

Anyway, that's enough of that. I also kind of wanted to ask you about Cho. You seemed pretty convinced that she didn't want to be just friends with me. Why do you think that? I tried to ask you about it on the train, but you seemed like you got sort of angry with me all of a sudden. So I figured I'd try again, since even if you get angry again, you can hardly take it out on me through a letter.

Or could you? I wouldn't put anything past you, Hermione Granger.

This is enough for now, don't you think? We've got loads more to talk about, but I'll save that for my second letter. Write back soon, Hermione.

Your friend,

Harry

Hermione put the letter down, a small smile on her face. Harry hadn't gotten into any of the important details yet, but she hadn't expected him to. She trusted that he'd be as good as his word, and start writing about the heavier topics in his next letter, once he was sure that the Order wouldn't read their correspondence.

'Speaking of that'...Hermione smiled to herself as she suddenly got an idea. If the Order were monitoring these letters, she and Harry would soon find out. She would make sure of it.

Hermione pulled out a pen and paper and began feverishly working on her reply, putting just as much enthusiasm into writing her letter as she normally put into her assignments at Hogwarts.

--NMM--

Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, minding his own business and eating a sandwich he'd made for himself, when a loud slam caught his attention.

He looked up and saw Uncle Vernon, who had obviously just come in through the front door. The obese man marched over towards the table and slammed an envelope down right next to Harry's plate.

“You've gotten a letter, boy,” Vernon spat before turning on his heel and stomping into the next room, grumbling to himself.

Knowing that the letter could be from only one person, Harry quickly wolfed down the rest of his sandwich and washed his plate before grabbing the unopened envelope and hurrying up the stairs to his room.

Once inside, Harry shut and locked the door before tearing open the envelope and plopping down on his bed. He settled in and made himself comfortable as he began to read.

Dear Harry,

Thank you for the letter! I was anxiously waiting to hear from you, as I'm sure you can imagine.

As for the Dursleys now being frightened of me: good! It's about time those rotten people were put in their place, and I was more than happy to help. That it led to them agreeing to mail your letters for you is simply a nice bonus.

My injury is fine now. Honestly, it is! It didn't leave a scar, which you already know, and it hasn't hurt for days. You're right, though; it was still bothering me slightly before we left Hogwarts. But it was only some minor pain, and given everything you were going through, I didn't want to worry you. So I tried to pretend it didn't bother me. I suppose I must not have done a very good job, though I doubt I was as obvious in my denials as you always are. You're simply a terrible liar, Harry. Not that that's a bad thing!

We've been over this, Harry: what happened at the Ministry, what happened to Sirius, was NOT your fault! You weren't thinking rationally at the time. You had a dark wizard in your head, influencing your thoughts and your feelings. If it weren't for that, I honestly believe I could have gotten through to you, and we could have found some way to confirm that Sirius was not actually in any danger. I don't blame you in the least, and you shouldn't blame yourself, either. You weren't yourself at the time.

So long as we're discussing that day, though, there is something I'd like to apologize to you for. While I was trying to reason with you, I talked about you having a “saving people thing.” I think you took it as an insult or a slight, but I honestly did not mean it that way at all. Yes, you do have a “saving people thing”—and thank Merlin for that! Your “saving people thing” is the reason I'm alive today. Without it, that troll surely would have killed me back in our first year. I'm sure Ginny's glad you have a “saving people thing” too, because otherwise she would have died down in that chamber. So, on behalf of both of us: thank you, Harry!

You always try and save people in danger because you are selfless, brave and kind. How could anyone fault you for that? I certainly don't. Those are all great qualities, and they're a big part of what makes you such a wonderful person. I was just trying to make you see that, that time, there might not actually have been anyone that needed saving. Please don't be angry with me.

Could I take my anger out on you through the mail? Of course I could, if I thought you deserved it. But I'm not angry with you, so you have nothing to worry about (this time, at least.) As to why I think Cho may still be interested in more than friendship? I don't have any concrete evidence to support that belief, Harry. It's more a gut feeling than anything else. Call it women's intuition.

And who could blame her for fancying you, anyway? I doubt she could find anyone better.

There; I believe I've covered everything from your letter that needed a response. Your turn, Harry.

Perhaps, next time, we can discuss what Dumbledore told you in his office after you got back from the Ministry?

Love,

Hermione

P.S. Of course I'm reading a book! Reading is quite enriching, you know. Both fiction and non-fiction. You really should try reading something other than a quidditch magazine sometime.

Harry laughed aloud after finishing the letter. Hermione, clever witch that she was, had just guaranteed that if Dumbledore and the Order were reading these letters, they'd be getting involved shortly. They both knew full well that Dumbledore would not permit him to include the contents of the prophecy in a letter. If he had hidden it from Harry himself for so long, Harry didn't think there was any way he'd risk it being put into a letter that could be read by anyone. If Dumbledore was in fact reading these letters, he'd now interfere in some way, before Harry had the chance to send out his next letter. If that happened, Harry would have to come up with some other way to communicate with Hermione—but Dumbledore would be none the wiser about how Harry was feeling, about Harry's doubting the Headmaster, and his uncertainty about returning to Hogwarts in the fall.

'Nicely done, Hermione,' Harry thought to himself. He tucked the letter into a drawer and went back downstairs to get started on his chores (which, thanks to Hermione and the Order, were much more reasonable these days.) He'd give it several days, give Dumbledore plenty of time to interfere. After that, if there was no action from the Headmaster or the Order, it would be time to tell Hermione just what the prophecy said.

--NMM--

Hermione chewed her fingernails anxiously. She knew it was perfectly natural that she hadn't received a second letter from Harry yet. It hadn't even been all that long since she'd mailed her first letter, and she was sure Harry would wait a bit before replying, to make sure that Dumbledore hadn't caught on.

Still, it was quite nerve-racking, sitting and waiting. If the Order had actually figured out their scheme somehow, how would she be able to help Harry through his current crisis? The thought of sitting in her home helplessly while Harry decided to leave Hogwarts, leave her life, possibly never to return...it absolutely terrified her.

Hermione's attention was drawn to her window, where she saw something she'd been waiting on for hours.

It was the delivery truck, come to drop off the day's post.

“Hermione, the post--” her father began, but she was already running down the stairs and out the front door in her hurry to see if she'd gotten a reply from Harry. She picked up the post and examined its contents, sifting through various bills and advertisements until finally, thankfully, she found what she was looking for.

Once back in the house, Hermione haphazardly deposited the rest of the post on the kitchen table and rushed up the stairs, oblivious to her father's amused laugh at her antics.

Grinning in anticipation, Hermione tore open the envelope and began poring over the new letter from Harry.

Dear Hermione,

First off, well done! If Dumbledore were checking the Dursleys' post, there's no way he wouldn't have interfered after that bit you wrote that hinted about the prophecy. Since it's now been several days, and I haven't heard one peep from Dumbledore or anyone else with the Order, I'm guessing this little idea of yours is working. Not like that's surprising, though. How often are you wrong?

Now that we've sorted that out, we can start talking about the really important stuff. Like the prophecy.

I thought about writing about other, smaller things first, but I know you. You'll have been sitting around, waiting on pins and needles to find out what the prophecy says. So I won't keep you waiting. Knowing you, I'm sure you'll be wanting to break it down and analyse it, piece by piece, so I'll let you do just that. Here is what the prophecy said, word for word:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...

and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...."

There it is, as told to me by Dumbledore. He said that, at first, the prophecy could have been about either me or Neville. We were both “born as the seventh month dies” (at the end of July, obviously), and both of our parents defied Voldemort three times. It seems that Voldemort heard that first part, and decided to eliminate this one who supposedly would have the power to vanquish him.

He came after me first. I don't know if there was any special reason for that, but being the bloody bastard that he is, I'm sure he planned to kill Neville as soon as he was done with me. But you know what happened next. He failed to kill me, but in the process, he gave me the blasted lightning bolt scar that everyone stares at. This was seen as him “marking me as his equal”, and so I became the one that the prophecy refers to.

You know what this means, obviously. Either I kill Voldemort, or he kills me. No matter how many different ways you try to look at this (and I know you'll try loads of them), there's no getting around it. I'm either going to become a murderer, or I'm going to get murdered.

After seeing Voldemort duel with Dumbledore at the end of term, I'd say the second outcome is much more likely. Power he knows not? What does that even mean?

This is one of the reasons I'm so upset with Dumbledore. Probably the biggest reason, even. He's known about this prophecy for years. He's known what I'll have to do. But did he ever tell me? No. He let me go on in ignorance. He said he hid it from me because he cared about me, cared about my happiness, and didn't want to burden me with this. I do believe him, but that doesn't make me any less angry about it. He should have done more to prepare me for what I'm going to have to do. Because at the moment, Voldemort would destroy me with ease if given half the chance. And I don't really see how I can be happy about anything if I'm dead.

There are some other problems I've got with Dumbledore, and some of his decisions over the years. But I think you've got enough to think over at the moment, thanks to the prophecy, so I'm just going to finish with some lighter things.

I'll take your word for it about your injury, but I think you overestimate your own ability to lie, Hermione. I don't know how obvious my attempts are, but it was easy enough to tell that you were lying. Well, it was for me, at least. Not sure if anyone else picked up on it, Ron included.

I'm not angry with you for saying I have a “saving people thing.” It's true, after all. I hadn't even given that a second thought until you mentioned it in your letter, so you don't need to worry about it. And you were right in trying to talk me out of going to the Ministry, obviously.

As for saving you from that troll: you're welcome! Though you should probably thank Ron, honestly. He's the one that knocked the troll out. All I did was stick my wand up his nose. (Think that'll work against Voldemort? Maybe I should give it a try.)

I still don't really understand the whole Cho thing, but I'm going to guess you know what you're talking about. You're hardly ever wrong, and I know pretty much nothing about girls. I do think you're wrong about her not being able to find anyone better to fancy, though. Heck, she already did find someone better: Cedric. He was a much better wizard than me, and he actually made her happy, something I couldn't ever do.

Your friend,

Harry

P.S. You know what's funny? I remember actually enjoying some of the books on magic I got before we started our first year at Hogwarts. But since then, I've avoided reading as much as possible. I guess Ron rubbed off on me.

The end of Harry's letter brought a brief smile to Hermione's face, but it quickly disappeared as her focus returned to the most important thing she'd just learned: the contents of the prophecy.

The wording of the prophecy seemed clear. It would come down to Harry and Voldemort in the end. Hermione didn't put much stock in Divination, especially after being around the likes of Professor Trelawney. But it was clear that Headmaster Dumbledore believed that this was legitimate, as did Voldemort, so she had no choice but to accept that it would come to pass, through sheer force of will if nothing else.

Not that she needed some prophecy to tell her this, though. She'd always known, on some level, that it would fall to Harry to finish Voldemort off once and for all. After all, if Dumbledore were able to defeat Voldemort himself, surely he would have done it by now? It only made sense that it would be Harry. Harry, who had become the first person in history to survive the Killing Curse. Harry, who had come into contact with Voldemort and his underlings numerous times as a mere schoolboy, and always managed to survive. Harry, who always persevered, no matter the odds. It never could have been anyone other than Harry, really.

Harry would fulfil this prophecy. He would defeat Voldemort. Hermione would make sure of it.

But right now, she needed to put considerable thought into how she was going to reply to this prophecy—and, more importantly, how she was going to reply to Harry's rather negative attitude about his chances of success.

--NMM--

Harry finished reading the letter sent to him by Ron, and laughed in amusement. He'd been tense for the past several days, ever since he'd sent off his 2nd letter to Hermione...the one where he told her exactly what the prophecy said.

One part of him was afraid that, knowing what she did, she wouldn't want to be his friend any longer.

Another part of him was afraid that she would.

Ron's letter, delivered by his rather excitable owl, Pigwidgeon, had arrived at the perfect time. Ron had, of course, asked him how he was feeling after the tragedy that he'd gone through at the Ministry building. But after that, Ron had spent the rest of the letter writing about everything from the latest news about the Chudley Cannons to the twins' ever-expanding list of joke products.

In short: he'd taken Harry's mind off of his troubles, and allowed him to relax for a bit. It was exactly what Harry had needed.

After quickly reassuring Ron that he was doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances, Harry spent the rest of his reply writing about things just as unimportant and—well--normal as Ron had. He gave the letter to Pig, who flew off to deliver it, and decided he should write a little something to send along to Hermione as well. Just a few quick things; nothing of great importance. It was more for appearances than anything else, anyway. He sent Hedwig along with this letter, telling her she could stay out until the following morning if she wanted. He figured Hermione would want to send her back with an equally frivolous return letter.

Far more important, though, was the letter that arrived in that day's post: Hermione's response to the prophecy. After Aunt Petunia wordlessly handed him the envelope in his room, it was with more than a little reluctance that Harry opened it up.

Dear Harry,

I know how your mind works, Mr. Potter, so let's just get this out of the way right now: I AM NOT ABANDONING YOU. Got it? I'm going to be there to help you, every step of the way, regardless of the danger. And don't be surprised when Ron says the same thing, once you tell him what the prophecy says. (You ARE going to tell him, right? Eventually, at least?)

The three of us have been through thick and thin together, and if you think either of us would let you confront that monster alone when the time comes, you're insane. The prophecy may say that it is you who has to kill Voldemort (and it WILL be you who kills him, and not vice versa), but it doesn't say anything about you doing it all alone.

You're stuck with me, Harry, whether you like it or not. And I'd be quite surprised if Ron doesn't feel the same way.

Now that that's settled: you're right, no matter how many different ways I examined the wording of this prophecy, the crux of it is clear. It's either you or him. But honestly, Harry? This doesn't come as any great surprise to me. Of course it'll be you that finishes that monster once and for all. It was you who ended his first reign of terror, and it's you who has continued to wreck his plans, time and again. Since he got his new body at the end of our 4th year, at least a part of me has known that it would be you who stopped him, just like it was you who stopped him the first time.

As I said, though, you won't be doing it alone. I suspect Ron will support you fully. The Order's primary purpose is to bring Voldemort down. Dumbledore, as much as you might dislike him at the moment, will continue to work to oppose the efforts of Voldemort and his followers. And you'll always have me, of course.

Not only are you going to defeat Voldemort, Harry, but you are also going to survive the encounter in one piece. You may doubt your abilities, Harry, but you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You have already accomplished so many incredible things, and you don't even seem to realise it. And we're going to make sure you're well-prepared before you confront Voldemort for the final time. When the time comes, you'll be ready, and you'll be brilliant. I don't even want to think about what my life would be like without you in it, Harry, so failure is simply not an option. I don't want to hear any more talk of you dying, understand?

I understand why you're so upset at Dumbledore for not sharing any of this with you before now. It is very upsetting to me also. Perhaps you weren't ready to hear the prophecy the moment you walked into Hogwarts, but surely he could have told you at some point over the last five years?

Although, didn't you say in your last letter that Voldemort only heard part of the prophecy? Maybe Dumbledore was afraid that he would be able to use that “connection” between the two of you to hear the rest of it? That's something you should ask him, Harry.

Even if you decide to leave Hogwarts, I still think you should speak with Dumbledore before you actually do so. He deserves the chance to tell his side of things, at the very least, and I doubt he could have done so the last time you spoke with him. You were too frazzled emotionally, after both losing Sirius and hearing the contents of the prophecy. Regardless of what you might think of him, Dumbledore is an extremely powerful and very intelligent wizard. He could be a great help to you, if the two of you can reach an understanding. I'm not saying you have to forgive him for all of his mistakes, or trust him as fully as you once did. But at least hear him out.

Speaking of his other mistakes, I am quite curious to hear about those as well. Since you first told me of your doubts about the Headmaster during our conversation in the hospital wing, I've been doing quite a bit of thinking about some of his decisions, myself. For instance, being so easily lured out of the castle during our first year, which left it up to us to stop Professor Quirrell from getting the Philosopher's Stone. Or, while we're at it, why move the stone to Hogwarts in the first place? If there was concern about a possible attempt to steal it, why would Dumbledore agree to move it to the school, and possibly put the students at risk?

I've also wondered about what happened with Sirius in our third year. Dumbledore seemed to readily believe us when we insisted that Sirius was innocent. In fact, it hardly even seemed to surprise him. But if he wasn't surprised, couldn't that mean that he had at least some doubts about Sirius' guilt when he was sent to Azkaban? And if he did, why didn't he insist that Sirius received a trial before being condemned and sent away? With all the power he wields in our society, that seems like something that should have been well within his ability to pull off.

Anyway, those are just a couple of things that I've come up with. I'm eager to hear your own thoughts, so be sure to include those in your next letter.

Of course Ron didn't notice that my injury was still bothering me slightly. He can be quite oblivious at times, and besides, I'm sure most of his attention was on you. He was worried about you after what happened to Sirius, just as I was.

Speaking of Sirius...would you like to talk about him? I know it's hard, and I know you have many other things to think about, but I'm sure losing him is still weighing on you heavily. Like I said before, you can talk to me about anything, Harry. I'd like it if you wrote about him a bit in your next letter, but it is up to you.

I'm relieved to hear that you aren't angry with me over my “saving people” comment. You might have forgotten about it in the wake of all that happened, but I definitely did not. It didn't come out the way I intended, and I felt quite guilty about it. Thank you for forgiving me, Harry.

You're right, it was Ron who knocked the troll out. But he wouldn't have even been there if you hadn't insisted on helping me, despite barely knowing me at the time. Just another example of what a selfless, caring person you are, Harry. Cho would be lucky to have you, whether you can see it or not.

You've gotten your O.W.L. results, haven't you? I got ten “Outstandings”, and an “Exceeds Expectations” in DADA. Acceptable results, I suppose, though I do wish I'd managed an O in Defence. How did yours go? Did you get the scores you needed to become an Auror after you graduate from Hogwarts (assuming you remain there, that is)?

I feel like I've prattled on long enough, so it's probably time to end this letter. Take care, Harry, and write back soon!

Love,

Hermione

P.S. Oh no you don't! Don't try and blame it all on Ron, mister! No one's responsible for your lack of interest in reading but you. If you wanted to read, you could. You still can, even. You're not a lost cause yet, you know. I'd be happy to recommend some reading material, if you'd like.

Harry let out an involuntary sigh of relief as he finished reading Hermione's letter. While he still worried about Hermione putting herself in danger simply by being his friend, he had to admit that he was glad to know he still had her support. He'd be lost without her. Especially now, knowing what he would eventually have to do.

She hadn't reacted to the prophecy at all like he'd expected. He thought she would either try and discredit it line-by-line, or just dismiss it as irrelevant nonsense. But she'd done neither. Instead, she'd readily accepted it to be legitimate, and spent a good portion of the letter reassuring him that he would be successful, and also promised to be there with him when the time came to try and defeat Voldemort. He would have something to say about that last bit, but deep down he knew that there was no way he'd be able to change her mind.

She'd also raised some interesting questions about Dumbledore's actions and decisions, which, when added to his own gripes, only served to increase his mistrust of the Headmaster. He definitely had some major thinking to do about Dumbledore, as well as his uncertain future at Hogwarts.

--NMM--

Hermione put down the letter that Pigwidgeon had just delivered from the Burrow, and grinned in anticipation. She'd be seeing Harry soon!

Hermione scrawled a quick reply, and sent it back with Pig. She felt a bit guilty about evading some of Ron's questions, but she didn't want to betray Harry's trust. She was hopeful that Harry would confide in Ron eventually.

Speaking of Harry, it wasn't long after she'd sent Pig on his way that the day's post arrived, with her third letter from Harry included. Hermione opened the envelope with haste, eager as she was to find out more about Harry's mistrust of Headmaster Dumbledore.

Dear Hermione,

Part of me is glad to hear that you've no intention of leaving me, even with the prophecy. Another part kind of wishes you would. Don't get me wrong; I'm glad you're my friend, and I don't know what I'd do without you. But I know that being my friend puts you in even more danger, especially if you really are going to be with me whenever I take on Voldemort. And if something were to happen to you, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself. That moment in the Department of Mysteries, where you got cursed by Dolohov and I thought you might be dead, was the most terrifying moment of my life. You said that you don't even want to think about what your life would be like without me in it. Well, that goes both ways, so if you're going to fight by my side, you better be careful.

I'm sure I'll fill Ron in about the prophecy eventually, yeah, but I want to make my decision about my future before I tell him what the prophecy says, or what you and I are talking about. He's my best mate and all, but he kind of has a habit of blurting things out without thinking. I know I'll have to speak with Dumbledore at some point, but I'd be afraid Ron would give something away before I'm ready. Dumbledore is a very intelligent person, and I don't want to speak with him until I've had a chance to think things over, not to mention discuss them with you. Otherwise, he might be able to manipulate the situation to his advantage.

Speaking of which, you brought up some interesting questions about Dumbledore in your last letter. I hadn't really thought about the risk he put all of his students in by bringing the stone to Hogwarts, or the way he reacted to our pleas about Sirius. I think you're right on both of those, and it makes me even more wary of trusting him.

I've come to question quite a few of Dumbledore's decisions over the past few weeks, but let's start with leaving me on the Dursleys' doorstep. He explained that he left me there because it was the safest place for me to be. Aunt Petunia, being a blood relative of my mother, provided the strongest protection possible when she agreed to take me in, however reluctantly. Some kind of ancient magic.

This makes sense, and I can't fault Dumbledore's decision to leave me there. But why did he allow the Dursleys to treat me so horribly? My first Hogwarts letter was addressed to “The Cupboard under the stairs”, so he obviously had some means of keeping an eye on me. So why didn't he make any effort to persuade the Dursleys to at least treat me like a human being? Putting me here and just ignoring me as he did might have kept me protected, but it sure as hell didn't do anything for the “happiness” he apparently cares so much about.

How about the quality of instructors he offers at Hogwarts? In five years, we've had exactly ONE good teacher in Defence. Aside from Remus, the most effective instructor we had was a bloody Death Eater who used Polyjuice to disguise himself. How pathetic is that?

And that's before we even get to Snape. How that greasy git got hired in the first place is mystery enough, but how in the name of Merlin has he held on to that job for so long? Everyone knows how awfully he treats anyone who isn't a Slytherin. Even the other professors can see it. The man is a bully, but Dumbledore lets him get away with anything and everything. Same thing with Filch. Why does he continue to employ people who treat most of the students like complete rubbish?

On that same note, what made him think that having Snape teach me Occlumency was a good idea? Snape has never tried to teach me a thing in five years. I get why he didn't want to teach me Occlumency himself, but surely there has to have been someone he could have gone to besides Snape? Even if it were someone who wasn't as skilled at Occlumency, they'd still have done a better job at teaching it to me than Snape.

But still, it all comes back to the prophecy. I don't think I'd have even stopped to think about all of these other things if he hadn't screwed that up so badly. I get not telling me right away. Your point that he might have been afraid that Voldemort could have used our connection to hear it is a good one, too. But how could he not have at least told me that there was something Voldemort greatly desired in the Ministry? That's all he would have needed to say to prevent everything that happened at the end of term. He admitted as much afterwards, when we talked in his office. But, even though I understand that everyone makes mistakes, I'm having a difficult time getting past this one.

What do you think, Hermione? Am I being too hard on him?

Since you asked about Sirius...I miss him, of course, and I still feel a bit guilty about what happened. It's tough, but I've come to accept that Sirius wouldn't want me to sit and sulk or feel sorry for myself. He'd want me to stand up and take action, which is what I'm trying to do (with your help, of course.) Together, I'm hoping the two of us can figure out what my next move should be, whether it's returning to Hogwarts, transferring to a new school, or leaving school behind entirely so I can focus on preparing for Voldemort. Let me know what you think. I'm not saying I'll automatically go along with whatever you suggest, but I do value your opinion

Oh, since you asked about my scores: I got 7 O.W.L.s, but I only managed an E in Potions. Snape requires an O to continue on with the course, so no, I didn't get the marks I needed to try and become an Auror. Oh well; looks like I'll get my fill of fighting dark wizards anyhow. And at least I won't have to be around that greasy haired git very much, even if I do return to Hogwarts.

Congratulations on your marks, by the way. Extremely well done, but I expected nothing less from you.

Your friend,

Harry

P.S. You're right, of course. I probably should do some more reading. Especially knowing what I'm going to have to do in the future. I'll need every bit of knowledge I can get if I'm going to beat Voldemort. Feel free to suggest anything you think might help.

Hermione bit her bottom lip in thought as she finished reading Harry's letter. She had to admit that Harry made some valid points against Dumbledore, as well as against the quality of education offered at Hogwarts. Still, her gut told her that the best place for Harry to be was at Hogwarts. Dumbledore would be able to keep tabs on Voldemort's activities better than anyone else, and he could also be an invaluable source of knowledge and training for Harry. She didn't think there was any other place on Earth that could offer Harry a greater chance of victory.

But in order for that to work, some things would have to change. He and Headmaster Dumbledore would have to have a talk, and reach some sort of mutual understanding. Otherwise, there would be too much distrust on Harry's side.

As Hermione saw it, two things would need to happen for Harry to return to Hogwarts. One, Dumbledore would need to address Harry's problems in a straightforward and truthful manner, and show real regret and a genuine desire to make amends. Two, Harry would need to accept Dumbledore's explanations, and give him a second chance.

If either of those things went wrong, Harry would be leaving Hogwarts, and Hermione wouldn't be able to stop him. She'd have to follow him, wherever he went.

--NMM--

Harry sent off Hedwig with a reply to his latest letter from Ron. This letter had done even more to raise Harry's spirits than Ron's first, though it had more to do with the news Ron provided this time. Ron had written to tell him that his parents had spoken with Dumbledore, and gotten the Headmaster's approval for Harry to come to the Burrow on his birthday. Better still, Dumbledore had even said that Harry would not need to return to Privet Drive afterwards, and would be able to spend the remainder of the summer with the Weasleys. Harry was thrilled to hear this. Being at Privet Drive had given him plenty of time to think things over during the previous month or so, but he was more than ready to leave it behind and spend some time with people he actually liked.

Not to mention, Ron told him that Hermione would be there as well. He'd been in close contact with her, thanks to the letters, but he was still looking forward to seeing her in person for the first time in a month. He wondered if they'd get a chance to talk privately amidst all the hustle and bustle of the party he was sure Mrs. Weasley would throw for him, or if they'd have to save those kinds of discussions for later.

While he looked forward to actually speaking with Hermione face-to-face, he'd presently have to make due with reading her latest letter, which arrived soon thereafter.

Dear Harry,

First, I just want to say how excited I am to see you again! Just before I got your last letter, Pigwidgeon came by with a note from Ron. I'm sure you'll have heard from him as well by the time you get this letter, so you don't need the details, obviously. I can't wait to see you again, give you a big hug, and wish you a happy birthday! Before that, though, I'll need to get your present. I think I know what I'd like to get you, but I'll need to speak with the Weasleys first.

Of course I'm not going to leave you, Harry! As if that silly prophecy would keep me away! As I've already said, and will continue to say as many times as it takes for it to sink in: I'm sticking with you to the end, Harry. And I promise to be careful, so long as you do the same.

I understand your reluctance to fill Ron in about the prophecy. He does have a tendency to open his mouth without thinking sometimes, I don't deny that. If you want to wait until you've made your decision about Hogwarts before you talk to Ron, I'll support you. But if you do decide to leave, I hope you'll speak to Ron before you go. I think he deserves that, at least.

You've raised several interesting points about Professor Dumbledore. If it had only been hiding the prophecy from you, I'd have argued that you should forgive him and let it slide. I've always held the Headmaster in the highest esteem, but the more I think about them, the more I question some of his decisions. Your doubts towards him are very valid. As to whether I think you're being too hard on him? Honestly, that's for you to decide, Harry. But you definitely need to speak with him.

You asked for my opinion on what your next move should be. After listening to everything you've had to say, I understand why you're so hesitant to return to Hogwarts, so long as it is run by Dumbledore. But, in my honest opinion, Hogwarts is the best place for you to be. As you already know all too well, you are right in the thick of this war, whether you want to be or not. And so is Dumbledore. You might not trust him right now, Harry, but both of you want the same thing. You both want to bring Voldemort down, so he and his followers can no longer harm anyone. If at all possible, the two of you should be working together. Dumbledore is a great wizard, Harry, and his support would be invaluable for you. But in order for that to happen, the two of you need to sit down and talk everything out. You need to tell him exactly what is on your mind, and you need to make it clear that you will not tolerate having things hidden from you any longer.

It's not all up to you, of course. Professor Dumbledore needs to be honest with you, and he needs to stop trying to shield you from things. He needs to keep you better informed, and he needs to do a better job of preparing you for your inevitable showdown with Voldemort.

If he seems reluctant to change his ways, or you think his words are insincere? Then I suppose you might as well leave Hogwarts. If you can't trust him, then there's no point in you remaining there. Better for you to go elsewhere, where at the very least, it might be more difficult for Voldemort to come after you. Can't be any easier than at Hogwarts, at least, since either he or one of his followers have made an attempt on your life every single year.

You'd still need to attend school somewhere, of course. Like you said, you'll need every bit of knowledge you can get against Voldemort, and aside from that, you need school to help prepare you for your life after Voldemort, as well.

I've done a bit of research into the matter, and there have been people who have transferred both to and from Hogwarts in the past. You might have to sit out a term, or you could possibly join late and play catch-up. It all depends on the school you would be transferring to. I'll be happy to tell you more about this if it proves necessary.

And just so there are no surprises later: if you do leave Hogwarts and relocate to another school, I WILL be going with you. I said I'm going to stand by you, and I meant it. I've already spoken to my parents about the possibility of transferring to another school, and they had no problem with it. Not that that matters much, since as far as the wizarding world is concerned, I'll be a legal adult in less than two months. It might be trickier for you, as you'd need permission from the Dursleys. But I'm sure you could get them to go along with it if you have to. Feel free to take advantage of their fear of me, if need be.

I'm sorry to hear that you can't pursue a career as an Auror now, but perhaps it's for the best. Maybe after all this is over, you can find a job that doesn't require you to put your life on the line regularly, and I can stop worrying about you so much!

That's it for now, Harry. I imagine this will be the last letter before I see you on your birthday, so I just want to say that it's been nice to actually be in regular contact with you over the summer, even if it has been under rather difficult circumstances. But of course, these letters still aren't as good as the real thing. I can't wait to see you, Harry! If we get a moment alone, maybe we can talk about all of this some more?

See you soon, Harry!

Love,

Hermione

Harry set the letter down, knowing that he'd be thinking about it quite a bit while he waited to see Hermione in person. She'd given him a lot to ponder. He was still wary of putting trust in Dumbledore, but she made a great point. If the two of them could work together in the fight against Voldemort, Hogwarts would be the best place for him to be. But could they do it? Could Harry get through to Dumbledore, and make him see that things needed to change? Could Harry put his trust in Dumbledore again, after everything that had happened in the past year?

Harry had no idea. But one thing was for sure: he couldn't wait to see Hermione.

--NMM--

A/N: There, the exchange of letters is now done with. Thank goodness; this chapter was a real chore for me to write. Is it a chore to read as well? If so, I apologize. If you didn't like this chapter, and the letter-writing format, hopefully the next chapter(s) will be more to your liking.

4. 4. Birthday at The Burrow

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 4: Birthday at The Burrow

Harry heard a knock at the front door, which was soon followed by angry bellowing from Uncle Vernon. He smiled to himself, as this could only mean one thing: his Auror guard had arrived to escort him to The Burrow.

Harry bent down to lift up his trunk, but as he was doing so, he was startled by a knock on his own bedroom door.

“Harry? May I come in?” Remus Lupin asked from outside the room.

“Yeah, sure, Remus. I was just about to grab my trunk and come down, actually,” Harry replied.

The door opened, and Harry's former professor stepped into the room, a broad smile on his face. Harry stuck his hand out for him to shake, but Lupin surprised him by ignoring the gesture and wrapping Harry up in a hug instead. Stunned, Harry returned the hug awkwardly.

“Harry birthday, Harry,” Lupin said as he released the hug and took a step back.

“Thanks, Prof...err, Remus. Sorry; it's still a bit weird to be calling you that,” Harry said timidly. Lupin chuckled and shook his head.

“Well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?” Lupin said merrily, before turning serious. “How are you feeling, after...everything?” he asked quietly.

They both knew exactly what he was trying to refer to—what Lupin had been trying to avoid saying out loud. But Harry saw no point in dancing around the issue.

“It's tough, Remus. Sirius was...well, he's the closest thing I've ever had to a father. I didn't get to know him that well, thanks to all those years he spent in Azkaban, but I still thought of him as family. It's tough to know that he's gone, and even tougher since it's partly my fault.”

“It is most certainly NOT your fault,” Remus interrupted. “Sirius knew the danger. He knew what he was walking into, just like all the rest of us. He came along despite the danger, because he wanted to make sure that you and your friends didn't get seriously injured or worse. And I am quite sure that he would make the same choice today, even knowing the outcome. No one blames you for what happened, Harry. Your friends don't, I don't, and if Sirius could speak to you now, I know he'd tell you that he doesn't, either. So you mustn't blame yourself.”

Harry sighed and nodded. Remus was right. He knew Sirius wouldn't have blamed him any more than Ron, Hermione and the others had. But knowing that was true didn't make him feel any better.

“You're right, he wouldn't,” Harry agreed, though he said no more about it. He stared at the ground, trying to will away the despair that thinking of Sirius often caused these days.

He evidently was not successful, because Remus picked up on his mood.

“He wouldn't want you to get so sad when you think about him, either,” Remus said gently. “He'd want you to smile and remember the good times, not dwell on the bad ones.”

“I know,” Harry said with a nod, “and I think I'm getting a bit better with that. I also know that he wouldn't want me to sit and sulk or feel sorry for myself, so I'm doing my best to put what happened behind me and focus on the future.”

“That's good, Harry,” Lupin said with a smile. “And remember what I said at the station. If you ever feel the need to talk, please feel free to get in touch with me. You can come to me with anything, whether it has to do with Sirius or not.”

Just as when they talked at King's Crossing, Harry was briefly tempted to confide in Remus Lupin. But just as quickly as the thought entered his mind, Harry banished it. Lupin was an honourable, trustworthy man, but he also had a great deal of faith in Albus Dumbledore—just like Harry himself had, until recently. He couldn't spill his guts with anyone else just yet. Not until he'd had a chance to speak with Hermione in person, at least.

“Thanks, Remus. I might take you up on that eventually,” Harry said with a grin.

“I hope you do, Harry,” Remus returned. He paused, considering, before he continued. “Well, I suppose we've left the rest of your guard with the Dursleys long enough. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me grab my trunk,” Harry said. Remus walked ahead and opened the door while Harry picked up the trunk that contained his few meaningful possessions. The two of them walked down the stairs together, and Tonks, upon seeing them, turned her back to a red-faced Vernon Dursley and gave a wave.

“Wotcher, Harry! Took ya long enough! It felt like I was down here forever, listening to this great ruddy whale blather on,” Tonks said. Vernon sputtered in indignation, but everyone else ignored him.

“That would be my fault, Auror Tonks,” Remus said apologetically. “I had something I wanted to discuss with Harry before we departed. I am sorry for the delay.”

“Oh, alright. How can I stay mad at you, wolfie?” Tonks teased. If Harry wasn't mistaken, he thought Lupin looked rather embarrassed at that moment.

Mad-Eye Moody, who had been surveying the home in silence, suddenly grabbed everyone's attention with a loud grunt.

“Right, then. If you two are done flirting like a couple of teenagers, let's get going!” the grizzled Auror barked out. Properly chagrined, both Remus and Tonks followed the old man towards the fireplace, which they'd temporarily connected to the floo network (much to Uncle Vernon's displeasure.)

Tonks went through the floo first, while Moody announced he would be going last, so he could be sure that Harry was not left alone at any point. Lupin went next, leaving just Harry and Moody.

“Alright, Potter, time to get going,” Moody said gruffly. Harry nodded, and tossed his handful of floo powder into the fireplace.

“The Burrow!” Harry shouted clearly, ignoring the angry muttering from Uncle Vernon as he departed.

--NMM--

Hermione Granger had been deep in conversation with Fleur Delacour, but abruptly broke off as the first person entered through the Weasleys' floo. She turned eager eyes to the fireplace, and watched as first Tonks, and then Lupin came out. Finally, she saw what she'd been looking forward to for the last month: Harry Potter, in person.

Mrs. Weasley had been about to rush over and greet him, but Hermione was faster. She was up out of her chair in a flash, and ran straight at her friend. Harry, startled as she ran towards him at full speed, barely had time to drop his trunk before Hermione's body collided with his. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly, while he struggled to see past the bushy brown mass of hair right in front of his face. Not that it mattered that his vision was obscured. At the moment, Harry's focus was solely on the witch who was doing her best to squeeze the life out of him. His hands slid to her back and pulled her body even closer to his.

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that this hug was, somehow, even better than the one they'd shared at King's Crossing a month earlier.

“Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you! Happy birthday!” Hermione exclaimed, her voice full of pent-up emotion.

“Thanks, Hermione. It's good to see you too,” Harry returned as best he could with her hair in the way.

Knowing that there were plenty of other people in the room eager to greet Harry, Hermione reluctantly released her hold on him and took a step back.

Moments later, Mrs. Weasley filled the space Hermione had just vacated, sweeping Harry into her arms in her usual motherly, smothering fashion.

It wasn't nearly as pleasant as Hermione's hug had been, but Harry obediently stood still and allowed her to get it out of her system. Once Mrs. Weasley had had her fill of squeezing all the oxygen out of Harry's body, she stepped back and ran her eyes over him searchingly.

“So good to see you, Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, “but you're looking far too thin! It's a good thing I'll be preparing so much food for your birthday party later on tonight. Be sure to eat your fill.”

Harry chuckled and ran his hand through his already messy hair self-consciously. Mrs. Weasley's mothering of him always made him a bit uncomfortable, but that didn't mean he disliked it. In truth, it was nice to have a little glimpse of what that was like. She was pretty much the polar opposite of Petunia Dursley, and that was high praise indeed as far as Harry was concerned.

“Happy birthday, mate,” Ron greeted as he stepped forward and stuck out his hand for Harry to shake. After Harry returned the gesture, Ron continued. “Hope the muggles didn't give you any trouble.”

“They weren't bad at all,” Harry assured him. “They left me alone as much as possible, and did their best to pretend I didn't even exist. Thanks to that, it might have been the best month I've ever spent there.”

Ron nodded in understanding, but said nothing else. Harry glanced around the room, and saw several faces seated at the table. There were even more Weasleys than usual: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, and Bill were all there. Only Charlie and Percy were missing. He waved in greeting to the rest of the Weasleys, who waved back and offered up their own greetings.

Harry hadn't seen Bill very often, but it couldn't really be a huge surprise to see the curse breaker in his own childhood home. But Harry was more than a little surprised at the presence of Fleur Delacour, who stood up from her seat next to Bill and approached Harry.

“Oh, 'Arry, 'ow wonderful to zee you,” she exclaimed, before kissing Harry once on each cheek. Harry blushed in response, but only slightly. Certainly not as much as Ron would have, at least.

“Good to see you too, Fleur,” Harry replied. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I am 'ere with Beel. 'E and I are engaged to be married,” she replied, positively beaming. Not all of the Weasleys looked pleased (Ginny and Mrs. Weasley looked particularly sour, Harry thought), but if Fleur noticed their mutinous expressions, she paid them no mind.

“That's great, Fleur, congratulations,” Harry said. “You too, Bill,” he added, which drew a smile from the eldest Weasley child.

Harry was sincere in his congratulations. He didn't know Bill all that well, but knew that Ron and Ginny had great admiration for their oldest brother. He seemed like a solid bloke, as far as Harry could tell. And he had a great deal of respect for Fleur after competing alongside her in the Triwizard Tournament. Underneath her haughty exterior, she was a very intelligent and talented witch. He hoped the two of them would be happy together.

“Hermione told us about your O.W.L. marks, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley interjected, quickly changing the subject. “You should be proud of yourself, dear. You did very well.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said in response. “I did better than I thought I would. I'm no Hermione, of course, but I was pretty happy with my results.”

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly at Harry's casual praise of her results, while Ron rolled his eyes.

“Too bad you won't be able to become an auror, though,” Tonks said. “If half the stories this lot tells about you are true, you would've been a great one.”

“To be honest, I'm not as disappointed about that as I thought I'd be,” Harry said in response. “I doubt I'll need to look far if I want to find some dark wizards. And besides, at least now I won't have to deal with Snape's abuse any more. That 'E' in Potions might have been a blessing in disguise.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough about the O.W.L.S already,” Ron cut in. “We've still got a month until Hogwarts starts back up, and I don't want to spend it talking about ruddy test scores, not to mention Snape.”

Hermione looked annoyed, but Harry jumped in before his two best friends had the chance to start sniping at each other.

“If nobody needs me for anything, I think I'll take my trunk up to Ron's room now,” Harry said. When no one objected, Harry heaved the trunk up and began lugging it up to Ron's room.

“I'll go with you, Harry,” Ron said, getting up out of his seat to follow.

“Me too,” Hermione agreed.

Harry nodded before continuing on his way. Ron and Hermione both followed close behind him, though all three members of the trio made the walk in silence.

Once they crossed the threshold into Ron's room, and Hermione had closed the door behind them, Hermione began speaking.

“So, Harry...how are you feeling?” Hermione asked. Harry was sure she would have preferred to say something else entirely, but wouldn't dare with Ron in the room. Those types of discussions would have to wait until they found a moment alone.

“I'm better, Hermione. I still miss Sirius, of course, but it's not as bad as it was a month ago. I'm not sure if I'll ever put it behind me completely, but I'm moving forward, at least.”

“That's good to hear, Harry,” Hermione said. “I guess, as they say, time heals all wounds.”

“And you know we're here for you, mate, whatever you need,” Ron added, taking a step forward so he could awkwardly smack Harry's arm in a rare show of affection.

Harry nodded and mumbled his thanks, unable to look Ron in the eye. He was feeling very guilty about keeping so many things from Ron. The redhead did have a temper, and sometimes said or did things without thinking of the consequences, but he was still his best mate. He made a silent pledge to himself that, after he'd spoken with Dumbledore and reached a decision about his future (with Hermione's help, no doubt), his first order of business would be to share everything with Ron.

“Fancy a game of chess, mate?” Harry offered, hoping to change the subject.

Ron happily agreed and pulled out his board, while Hermione fetched a book she'd brought with her and settled in next to Harry.

“I hate to say it, Harry, but I don't like your odds,” Hermione teased.

“Thank you so much for your support, Hermione,” Harry fired back, grinning at her.

“She's right, mate. You don't stand a chance,” Ron said smugly.

Harry shook his head and sighed in exasperation, while Ron snickered and Hermione broke into giggles. Harry smiled as the game began, revelling in this chance to forget about his troubles and have a bit of fun with his two best friends.

Voldemort, Dumbledore, the prophecy, and everything else could wait, at least for the moment.

--NMM--

Several hours later, after multiple thrashings and much taunting from Ron, Mrs. Weasley sent Ginny up to fetch the three of them, as the party was set to begin.

Once the foursome reached the bottom of the stairs and returned to the kitchen, Harry saw that, while Tonks and Moody were nowhere to be seen, two more guests had arrived. Luna Lovegood was there, as was Professor McGonagall, surprisingly enough.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Luna greeted, in her usual dreamy fashion.

“Hullo, Luna. Glad you could make it,” Harry said, smiling and sticking out his hand for her to shake.

“You haven't run into any Blibbering Humdingers lately, have you, Harry?” Luna asked, staring at his outstretched hand.

“Um...I don't think so,” Harry answered, hesitantly.

“That's good,” she said, sounding relieved, before finally accepting Harry's handshake. “I thought you might be vulnerable to them while you were at your relatives' house, but it seems that you made it out just fine.”

Ron chuckled at Luna's behaviour, while Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. Harry, for his part, simply smiled good naturedly at the Ravenclaw girl. She might have been a bit eccentric—OK, maybe more than a bit--but she'd also proven to be a courageous and loyal friend. Her oddities were just part of what made her who she was. And besides, it wasn't as if Harry himself would be considered normal, even by the wizarding world's standards.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall offered up in her usual businesslike tone, inclining her head towards her student ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry replied. “What brings you here? Not that I'm not happy you're here, of course...” he stammered, afraid he might have offended a woman that he had considerable respect for.

“Actually, I am here at the request of the Headmaster,” she answered.

Harry froze. Had Dumbledore figured out what he and Hermione had been up to? Did he dispatch his Deputy Headmistress in an attempt to sway him back from his current line of thinking? He hoped not. It would all come to a head with Dumbledore soon, of course, but Harry wanted it to be on his terms. He didn't want to have any confrontations with Dumbledore, McGonagall or anyone else until he and Hermione had the chance to sit down and prepare for it Otherwise, he'd be at a disadvantage.

“Relax, Potter, you aren't in any sort of trouble,” McGonagall assured him, as his concern was plain to see for the Transfiguration instructor. “Headmaster Dumbledore simply asked me to speak with you about something, and as I had something of my own to discuss with you as well, I decided I'd stop by. I had planned on only stopping in for a brief chat, but once Mrs. Weasley got word that I would be coming, she insisted that I stay for the party.”

“What exactly did you want to talk to me about?” Harry asked, curious.

“Hogwarts business, Potter. It's nothing that can't wait until after your party.”

Harry nodded, accepting that they would revisit the subject later on. He did his best to put it out of his mind for the time being, and simply enjoy the party that the Weasleys had put together for him.

--NMM--

Mrs. Weasley constantly commented throughout the party that she wished she could have done something bigger, but it was brilliant in Harry's opinion. He was surrounded by people he truly liked (and who truly liked him), and got to eat as much of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking as he wanted.

Who needed lavish parties attended by total strangers? Harry thoroughly enjoyed the company of those that were there. Between the twins' jokes, Luna's fascinating eccentricities (and Hermione's exasperation towards them), Bill's interesting stories from his work as a curse breaker, Mr. Weasley's muggle obsession, and Remus' stories from the days of the Marauders, it was a very enjoyable evening. It was, hands down, the best birthday of Harry's life up to that point.

And that was before they'd even gotten to the presents.

McGonagall got that process started, handing him one of the two packages in her possession. When he looked at her curiously, she explained that Hagrid had asked her to bring his present along, as he was conducting business on Dumbledore's behalf and could not attend the party. He opened Hagrid's gift, and knowing the half-giant's odd taste, Harry unwrapped the small package very cautiously. But, to his relief, it was just the 6th year Care of Magical Creatures textbook. Thankfully, this year's book didn't try to bite his fingers off. Even better, Hagrid hadn't included any of his (in)famous rock cakes.

Harry looked at McGonagall expectantly, assuming she'd hand him her own present next. But she held on to the gift instead, saying she'd give it to him later, during their talk. Harry nodded his assent, and moved on to the next present.

The twins gave him a wide variety of joke products from their store, and invited him to visit the shop in Diagon Alley any time he needed more, at no cost. When Ron asked if that offer extended to him as well, the twins promptly shot him down. They mentioned that their “benefactor” was a huge fan of the Boy-Who-Lived, and would go spare if they actually made Harry pay for anything. Harry promised to give this “benefactor” an autographed photo in thanks, and he and the twins shared a private laugh. Only the three of them knew that Harry had helped them get their shop running by giving them his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him a large tin of home-made fudge, while Bill and Fleur contributed a book about famous Quidditch Seekers, both past and present. Harry skimmed through the book, and chuckled as Mrs. Weasley swatted Ron's hand away from the fudge.

Ginny informed Harry that she, Luna and Neville had all gone in together for a present, but it was in Neville's possession, so they would just give it to him on the train ride back to Hogwarts. Harry's first thought was to wonder if he'd even be on the train. His second thought was that he needed to buy presents for both Neville, whose birthday was just one day before his, and Ginny, who would be turning 15 in August. He didn't know when Luna's birthday was, but he resolved to find out. Whether he returned to Hogwarts or not, he still wanted to try and stay in contact with his friends, and he absolutely placed Ginny, Luna and Neville in that category now.

When Harry opened his present from Remus, he was more than a little surprised to see a necklace.

“It was your mother's,” Remus explained. “The last time I saw her, she slipped it off for some reason that I've forgotten, and accidentally left it behind. I never got the chance to return it. I've kept it stored away all these years, but I thought you might like to have it.”

“Thanks, Remus,” Harry replied, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he delicately picked up his mother's necklace and inspected it. “I hope you don't expect me to wear it, though,” he threw in, trying to lighten the mood.

“Certainly not, Harry,” Remus said with a laugh. “But hopefully, someday, you'll find a lucky lady you want to pass it on to.”

Lupin's eyes lingered on Hermione as he said this. Harry didn't notice, but Hermione did, and flushed bright red in embarrassment. Remus smiled at her, but said nothing.

“Maybe,” Harry said doubtfully, setting the necklace aside for the moment. “Thanks again; it means a lot,” he finished, and the room went silent for a moment.

Hermione went next, nudging a rather bulky package towards Harry. He unwrapped it, and saw that she'd given him books. Not a shocking present from Hermione, to be sure. But she'd given him quite a few—Harry counted around a half dozen. And every single one seemed to be related to something that might help him in the near future. There was a book on duelling techniques, a book on Occlumency, and a book on advanced defensive spells, among others.

“I know it's not as personal as Professor Lupin's gift...” Hermione began worriedly, but Harry cut her off.

“Hey, now, none of that, Hermione. These are brilliant! They're going to help me so much—and they look brand-new, too. This must have set you back quite a bit.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Hermione said dismissively. “I always use a large amount of my spending money on books. The only difference was this time, some of the books were for someone else.”

“Well, thanks for using some of your “book budget” on me, any way,” Harry joked. “When we get the chance, we should look through these books together.”

“I'd like that,” she said enthusiastically, already eagerly looking forward to poring through every last book for new information that could help prepare them for the fight ahead.

“I guess that just leaves me, then,” Ron said, as he carefully placed his package on the table in front of Harry.

Harry began ripping off the wrapping paper, fully expecting to see Ron's usual gift of candy and Chudley Cannons products. Instead, he was shocked to see something very familiar.

It was the pocket knife that Sirius had given him, the one he'd broken in the Department of Mysteries. Or, more accurately, it was a very close replica.

“It's not exactly like the one Sirius gave you, but it was as close as I could find,” Ron said apologetically. “I know it can't replace the original, but...” he trailed off, waiting for Harry to show some kind of reaction to the gift.

He had to wait a bit, because Harry had been stunned into silence. Ron usually didn't put much thought into his gifts, but this was a clear exception. He didn't know how to react to Ron's unusually thoughtful gift, or the thoughts of Sirius it dragged to the surface.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry finally replied. “These things are dead useful. And I broke my last one, of course, so...” he said, grimacing as his thoughts once again turned to that horrible night that cost him his godfather.

“If it's going to be too...hard, I could always just return it and...” Ron began, but Harry waved him off.

“Nonsense, Ron. Like I said, these things ARE really useful. It's a great gift. And besides, I can't go around pretending that night didn't happen, or Sirius didn't exist. I can't go spare whenever something reminds me of him. I have to accept what happened, and move on. That's what he would have wanted me to do.”

“Well put, Harry,” Lupin said quietly, as the room went silent once again.

“Well, since it seems you've opened all of your gifts, perhaps we can have our conversation now, Potter?” McGonagall said, breaking the silence.

“Sure, professor,” Harry agreed, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. “Thanks for all of the gifts, everyone. And thanks for putting all this together, Mrs. Weasley. This has been the best birthday I can remember.”

“Not a problem, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, smiling broadly.

McGonagall began walking out of the room, with Harry following close behind. Before she reached the doorway, however, she paused and turned back around.

“Now that I think about it, it would be best if we included Ms. Granger and Ron Weasley as well, at least for the first bit. If you would?”

Ron and Hermione both nodded their assent, and followed McGonagall and Harry out of the room. She led them into a room where they wouldn't be overheard, and once she was sure she had the full attention of all three students, she began speaking.

“First, go ahead and open that package, Potter,” McGonagall said, handing Harry the present she'd withheld earlier.

Harry did as she asked, and saw what McGonagall had given him: the Gryffindor Quidditch captain's badge.

“He's made captain? That's brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, wide eyed.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley. I have decided that Potter is the best choice to captain our team. I'm confident that he'll be able to lead Gryffindor to another cup,” McGonagall stated.

“What about Katie?” Harry asked. “She's a year older than me. Why didn't you make her captain?”

“Ms. Bell might be a year older than you, but the two of you both joined the team in the same year,” McGonagall pointed out. “I considered her for the position as well, but I chose you because I feel you're a natural leader.”

“Me? What makes you think I'm a good leader? I've never liked having the attention.”

“You might not see it, Potter, but you are indeed a strong leader,” McGonagall assured him. “Your work with the D.A. last year is proof enough.”

“She's right, Harry,” Hermione added. “We looked to you to lead us last year, and you were brilliant at it. You'll be a great captain.”

Hermione pressed herself into Harry's side with a half hug, and he patted her back absently. Ron grinned and gave him a thumbs up, while McGonagall nodded to herself. All three seemed satisfied that Harry would make a good captain.

“I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to turn it down.”

Hermione broke away and stared at him, as did McGonagall and Ron.

“Are you mental, Harry?” Ron said hotly. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I just don't think I'm the best choice, Ron. I don't think I can give the time and dedication to it that Oliver and Angelina did,” Harry explained.

“What do you mean?” McGonagall asked.

“Being Quidditch captain is a big responsibility, and I don't think I can take it on. I'm a prime target of Voldemort's, and I need to do whatever I can to be prepared to stand up to him. I can't keep relying on luck and the help of others. I'm going to do my best to prepare myself, and it's going to take up a lot of my time and energy. I need to be ready, and that is more important than anything else.”

McGonagall nodded slowly as Harry spoke, and responded shortly after he'd finished. “I see. I'm disappointed that you won't be able to accept the position, but I understand your reasoning. I hope you'll continue to be our Seeker, at least?”

“Sure,” Harry affirmed. “I'll keep playing. I just don't want the extra responsibility of being captain.”

Of course, he didn't even know whether he'd be back at Hogwarts in a month's time, but he wasn't about to tell McGonagall that—he wouldn't disclose that possibility until he was face-to-face with Dumbledore. If he did return, though, he knew he'd like to keep playing, time permitting.

“Good. This does put me back at square one, though. I suppose I'll offer the position to Ms. Bell, though I'm not sure if she's truly suited to be captain,” McGonagall mused.

“What about Ron?” Harry blurted out. Three sets of eyes looked at him quizzically, so he explained himself. “If you're not sure about Katie as captain, I think Ron would be a good choice. I bet there isn't any other student in Hogwarts who knows as much about Quidditch as he does. He'd be great at coming up with new plays and strategies for us to run.”

Ron stared at Harry, his mouth opening and closing silently, while McGonagall mulled over Harry's suggestion. Having reached a decision, she nodded and cleared her throat.

“I hadn't considered it, but I think you may be on to something, Potter. There's no denying that Mr. Weasley understands the nuances of the game better than anyone else in our House. And Katie Bell will have the added pressure of her N.E.W.T.S to deal with. What do you say, Mr. Weasley? Do you accept the position of Gryffindor Quidditch captain?”

Ron went stone-still for a moment, before his face broke into as wide a grin as Harry had ever seen from him.

“Of course!” Ron stammered, overwhelmed at the realisation of one of his childhood dreams. He stared in awe as McGonagall took the badge from Harry's hands, and placed it in his own.

“Best of luck, Mr. Weasley. Be sure to win that cup for Gryffindor,” McGonagall said.

“Of-of course, Professor,” Ron mumbled, still in a daze. Harry grinned and slapped his back, while Hermione looked back and forth between the two with a soft smile on her face.

“Congratulations, mate,” Harry said, grinning at his friend. Ron finally managed to tear his gaze away from the badge sitting in his palm in order to look Harry in the eyes.

“Thanks, Harry,” Ron said softly. Harry just smiled and shook his head. He knew how much this moment meant to Ron, and he was happy that he'd been able to help make it happen.

“Don't mention it, Ron,” Harry said. “I think you're the best choice, anyhow. Now get us ready to kick some Slytherin arse!” he teased.

“You bet,” Ron agreed, grinning.

“Now that that is decided,” McGonagall began, gaining their attention once again, “there was a reason I asked Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley to join us. It concerns the position of prefect.”

“Is there a problem, Professor? Did Ron and I not do a good job last year?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“No, nothing like that, Ms. Granger. I simply wished to clarify things. I think it's fair to say that most people assumed Mr. Potter would be named as Gryffindor prefect last year, wouldn't you agree?”

Harry and Hermione both looked uncomfortable, but it was Ron who answered the question.

“Of course,” the redhead said nonchalantly. “I was as surprised as anyone else when I got the badge last year.”

“Indeed. Well, I wished to let all three of you know that Potter was, in fact, my choice as prefect. However, Headmaster Dumbledore overruled me, saying that Harry would have quite enough to deal with as it was. He may well have been right, but I just wanted to clear up any confusion the three of you might have had.”

“So why don't you give Harry the prefect spot now?” Ron offered. When McGonagall cocked an eyebrow at him, he went on. “I'll be pretty busy as Quidditch captain, doing whatever I need to do to make sure we win that cup. Harry could take my place as prefect. He was your first choice, anyway—and he and Hermione could probably do the job without biting each other's heads off.”

“That's a generous offer, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall said. “Would you be interested in the prefect position, Potter, or are you afraid it would take up too much of your time?”

Harry's first instinct was to turn the position down, just as he'd done with the captaincy. But then, he realised that if he came back to Hogwarts, being a prefect alongside Hermione would mean that they'd have plenty of time to themselves.

“I think I'll take it, Professor,” he said, after thinking it over for a moment. “Being a prefect shouldn't be as demanding as being Quidditch captain would have been. Plus, I'd be in a better position to help keep the school safe in case Voldemort tries anything. Constant vigilance, as Moody would say.”

“Very good, Mr. Potter. I trust you have no objections to this, Ms. Granger?”

“Of course not, Professor,” Hermione said immediately. “I think Harry will be a wonderful prefect.”

“That settles it, then,” McGonagall said. “I trust you will take your duties seriously, Mr. Potter?”

“Absolutely, Professor,” Harry said. He then looked over at Ron. “Thanks, mate. I appreciate it.”

“Are you kidding, Harry? I'll take Quidditch captain over prefect any day. I should be thanking you,” Ron said, chuckling. “Did you need me for anything else, Professor?” he asked of McGonagall.

“No, Mr. Weasley, I do not. You may go if you wish.”

Ron took her up on her invitation, and left the room to show his family his new badge. Hermione, meanwhile, stayed where she was.

“So, that's all you wanted to talk to me about?” Harry asked, and McGonagall nodded in response. “What's Dumbledore's message, then?”

“Ah, yes,” McGonagall said absently. “The Headmaster asked me to tell you that he continues to share your grief over the death of Sirius Black. He also wishes to speak with you privately about several different topics, and requests that you come visit him at Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon. We will temporarily allow access to the castle via the floo network in order to make your trip easier.”

“OK, I'll be there,” Harry began, “but only if Hermione can come too.”

“I beg your pardon, but he requested that you come alone,” McGonagall said, shaking her head.

“I don't come unless Hermione's there,” Harry said firmly. “Anything the Headmaster has to say to me, he can say in front of her. And I'm pretty sure Hermione has a few thing she wants to ask him, besides.”

“Very well. I will share your request with the Headmaster, and I'm sure he will send an owl along with his reply,” McGonagall said.

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said, glad that their Head of House had not pressed the issue or asked questions.

“You are welcome. Now, if neither of you have any additional requests, I believe it is time for me to be getting back to Hogwarts.” As neither student had anything else to add, the Transfiguration instructor went off to say her farewells to the rest of the guests.

“I hope you don't mind that I included you in that,” Harry said, once he and Hermione were alone.

“Mind? Of course not! I want to be there with you, Harry. I want to help you.”

“So...tomorrow, we have it out with the most respected wizard alive, and try to get him to own up to all of his mistakes,” Harry said slowly.

“Assuming he agrees to your demand, yes,” Hermione stated. “But that's tomorrow. Today, we need to plan.”

Harry nodded, and the two of them slipped off quietly, hoping to get in as much discussion as possible before anyone came looking for them.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day. They both knew that how Dumbledore reacted to what they had to say would drastically alter the course of Harry's life, one way or the other. They needed to be prepared.

--NMM--

A/N: Since more than one reviewer has questioned why Harry and Hermione didn't simply use the phone to communicate over the summer, here is why I ruled that out. I think a line Dumbledore says to Harry in OOTP after Sirius' death sums it up quite well: “and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined.”

Basically, Harry wasn't sure exactly how closely Dumbledore and his subordinates were watching him. He was pretty paranoid about the possibility of Dumbledore spying on him and putting the kibosh on his new train of thought before he could get the input of someone he trusts (Hermione). Harry knew the Order was watching over him, hence why he never put the letters in the mailbox himself. He didn't want anything to seem out of the ordinary, and anyone who had been watching him previously would know that Harry using the telephone would be quite out of the ordinary. If they were to see him sitting in his room and writing, it might have been a bit peculiar, but it wouldn't have stood out nearly as much as him using the phone. I also think the Dursleys would have put up a much bigger fight about Harry using the telephone as opposed to the post, but that's neither here nor there. If you don't agree with my logic, that's fine. It's not very essential to the story anyway.

5. 5. Meeting at Hogwarts, Part 1

((If my “vaunted” observational skills are correct, this should be the first chapter that I finished after Portkey's outage, meaning it's the first chapter that is actually new to the site as I upload it. It ends on a bit of a cliffhanger...but, fortunately for you guys, I also finished the next chapter while waiting to see what happened here at Portkey, so you won't have to wait long to find out what happens next. Silver linings, eh?))

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 5: Meeting at Hogwarts, Part 1

“You really aren't gonna tell me why Hermione has to go with you?”

Harry looked away from his best mate uncomfortably, not answering him right away. Ron had been most curious ever since the owl from Dumbledore had arrived the night before, confirming the Headmaster's meeting with Harry and Hermione the following day. When the Weasleys wondered aloud why he was meeting with the two of them, Harry had explained that Dumbledore (through McGonagall) had asked to meet with him, and he'd insisted that Hermione come along as well. That was as much as he'd said, though. He could tell that Ron was feeling rather hurt at being left out, but Harry couldn't chance it. Not yet. The element of surprise would be perhaps the biggest thing he and Hermione would have going for them today, and he couldn't do anything to risk it. That didn't make him feel any less guilty, though.

“I already explained this to you, Ron,” Hermione interjected. “Harry knew that I had some things I wanted to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore about, so he thought this would be a good opportunity for me to do so.”

“Right,” Ron said, rolling his eyes to show what he thought of that explanation. “That's why neither of you will tell me one ruddy thing about the meeting itself, and Harry can't even look at me when he tries to talk to me. The two of you are obviously up to something, but you don't trust me enough to tell me about it. I don't get it. I thought we were a team.”

“Ron,” Harry spoke up, stepping forward and locking gazes with his best friend, desperate to make him understand. “It's not that we don't trust you. We do. It's just that...well, Hermione and I have been planning this for a little while, and it's really important.” Harry could see that Ron was still sceptical, so he continued on. “First thing after we get back, we'll tell you everything. I swear it on my magic.”

Ron was silent for a moment, as he and Harry simply stared at each other. Finally, Ron nodded slowly. “Alright, fine,” he agreed. “But I'll hold you to that. As soon as you get back, I want to know what's going on.”

“You got it, Ron,” Harry assured him. “When Hermione and I get back, the three of us will go straight up to your room, and we'll explain everything.”

Ron nodded, and gave both of his friends one final, appraising look before he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

“Ready to go, Harry?” Hermione immediately asked, determined not to give either Harry or herself any time to worry or start second-guessing themselves. If they were going to do this, they couldn't be hesitant or indecisive. They would need to be ready for anything if they wanted this meeting with the crafty headmaster to go well.

“I'm ready,” Harry quietly confirmed. Hermione could see that her friend meant it, too. Even though they were about to confront arguably the most powerful and well-respected man in magical England, Harry didn't look the least bit nervous. He seemed...confident, determined. When Harry was focused like he was in that moment, Hermione believed he could accomplish anything. And she figured Professor Quirrell and the spirit inside Tom Riddle's diary would have had to agree—if they'd been in any condition to do so.

The two of them had thoroughly run through a list of problems that they wanted to confront the Headmaster with, and had discussed the different ways he might try and evade the questions, or the excuses he might offer. They knew it would not be easy to get through to him, as he had become very accustomed to having people follow him blindly, accepting his decisions without question. Getting him to admit the errors he had made, not to mention see that things needed to change, would be difficult. But they had to try. They had to do everything they could to reach a satisfactory conclusion. Because otherwise, both of them would be setting foot in Hogwarts for the very last time. And both teens believed that the war against Voldemort would be worse off for it.

Exhaling a deep breath, Hermione grabbed a handful of floo powder and prepared to depart for perhaps the most important conversation of her life up to that point.

--NMM--

Albus Dumbledore sat patiently at his desk, awaiting the arrival of Harry Potter, as well as one of his closest friends, the brilliant Hermione Granger. Albus had been surprised when Minerva informed him of Harry's request that Hermione be included in today's meeting, but he didn't see the harm in it. She already knew precisely what had happened in the Department of Mysteries, and Albus had no doubt that Harry would share the contents of the prophecy with her, if he had not done so already. She was Harry's most trusted confidant, and whatever Harry's reasons for requesting her presence, Albus did not want to risk upsetting him by turning him down. Harry would be upset enough by the end of this meeting. No reason to give him a head start.

Dumbledore looked up as the door to his quarters opened, and Minerva led both Harry and Hermione in. He smiled pleasantly, doing his best to appear cheerful despite his concern over how Harry was feeling towards him after the events of last term, not to mention how he might react to the news he was about to receive.

“Ah...Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. Right on time. Please, have a seat,” Dumbledore said kindly, indicating a pair of chairs right in front of them. Harry and Hermione did as he asked, while Dumbledore turned his attention to his fellow Hogwarts instructor. “Professor McGonagall, you may join us as well, so long as our two bright young students do not object. Do you?”

After sharing a brief glance, Harry and Hermione both shook their heads, so McGonagall took a seat as well. Dumbledore was pleased that they had agreed to his suggestion. He knew that Harry, and perhaps Hermione as well, would not be pleased with what he was about to tell them. But he hoped that the presence of their Head of House would serve as a calming influence, and soften Harry's reaction to some degree.

“Would anyone care for a lemon drop?” Dumbledore offered. All three shook their heads, so Dumbledore continued. “Very well. I must say, Harry, that I am a bit curious about your insistence that Ms. Granger join us today. Was there something urgent that you needed to speak with me about, Ms. Granger?”

“You could say that, Professor,” Hermione agreed, “but it can wait for a few minutes. Please, go ahead and tell Harry why you asked him to come.”

“As you wish,” Dumbledore said, nodding, before looking back at Harry once again. “Harry, first of all, I want to say once again how sorry I am about what happened to poor Sirius. He was a good man, and he cared for you deeply. Now, he is gone, and to my great regret, I must acknowledge that the majority of the blame lies at my feet. I apologize, Harry. I failed you this past year, and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.”

“I hope so too,” Harry said, with a bit of an edge to his voice. Hermione placed a calming hand on his arm, while McGonagall stared at her students, one eyebrow raised. For his part, Dumbledore was taken aback at Harry's response, though he effectively schooled his features and hid his surprise from everyone else.

“Yes, well, moving on,” Dumbledore said pleasantly, as if nothing was amiss, “there was a particular reason that I asked you here today, Harry. Before we get to that, though, I would like to express the surprise and disappointment I felt upon hearing that you had chosen to decline the position of Quidditch captain. I think you would have made a most excellent captain for Gryffindor.”

“I disagree, Professor,” Harry said quietly. “If the situation was different, maybe I could've been a good captain. But we're in the middle of a war. I'm in the middle of a war, whether I want to be or not. I need to focus on preparing myself for that. I don't have the time to be a good quidditch captain.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way, Harry,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I think it is important to stop and enjoy the simple pleasures in life, regardless of whatever other pressures or responsibilities one may have to deal with. Nevertheless, I do find it curious that you decided to accept the prefect position once Mr. Weasley vacated it. Why did you choose to devote your time to that responsibility, rather than that of Quidditch captain?”

“I think being a prefect is a more important responsibility,” Harry explained. “Prefects help the school run more smoothly, and when the professors are in a bind and need help in looking after the students, they turn to the prefects. And with Voldemort and his lackeys still out there, you might need all the help you can get.”

“You may be right, Harry,” Dumbledore began, his eyes twinkling, “but I can't help but wonder if perhaps the thought of spending time alone with Ms. Granger on patrol might have influenced your decision?”

To Dumbledore's amusement, Hermione blushed bright red and looked away, clearly embarrassed about what he had just implied. Harry didn't really react to Dumbledore's remark, however. Dumbledore wasn't sure whether Harry had missed the implication, or if he'd simply chosen to ignore it, but it was obvious that his attempt to lighten Harry's mood with a bit of humour had not had the desired effect. Giving it up as a failed effort, Dumbledore cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I'm sure you'll make a fine prefect, in any event. Now, I suppose we should move on to the purpose of this little chat of ours.”

“Please do,” Hermione agreed, her face and cheeks back to their normal hue.

“Harry, I asked you to meet with me today because I was hoping you could help me with something. I want to try and talk a retired professor into returning to Hogwarts for the upcoming term, and I believe that I will have better luck if you are with me, Harry,” Dumbledore explained. He believed it, too. If Harry went with him, he was confident he would be successful. Convincing Harry to go along with it would be the hard part.

“Me? Why would this professor come back if I go with you when you talk to him?” Harry asked, sounding confused.

“Call it a hunch,” Dumbledore said dismissively. He had a very specific reason for making this request of Harry, of course, but he didn't see the need to share it with him at this time. “His name is Horace Slughorn, and he was formerly the Head of Slytherin during Tom Riddle's time here. I believe that Riddle will attempt to recruit Horace into his band of Death Eaters, if he hasn't begun trying already. I'm hoping that returning to Hogwarts will keep Horace safe and out of Voldemort's clutches.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Harry agreed. “So, if you can talk him into coming back, I'm guessing he'll be this year's Defence teacher?”

“Actually, no. He'll be resuming his old position as Potions master.”

“Potions? What about Professor Snape?” Hermione asked. Dumbledore could hear a sense of dread in her voice, and knew she had caught on. Harry wasn't there quite yet, but he'd figure it out soon enough. Deciding that there was no point in delaying the inevitable, Dumbledore explained.

“Professor Snape will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore answered. From her seat nearest his, Professor McGonagall muttered under her breath, making no attempt to hide her disgust with this statement. As she had already voiced her displeasure over his choice, the headmaster had little trouble ignoring her reaction.

Ignoring Harry's, though, would prove impossible.

“SNAPE?! You're going to let that GIT teach the most important subject in the school?!” Harry shouted, outraged. This was exactly the reaction Dumbledore had feared. It seemed that Minerva's presence hadn't restrained Harry one bit. Still, he couldn't say he was surprised. He knew all about the animosity between Harry and Severus. He would just need to make Harry see that this would be the best thing for everyone.

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected automatically. “And yes, he will be assuming the Defence post. I know that you and Professor Snape haven't always gotten along, but he truly is a very talented wizard,” he said, trying to make Harry see the logic of his decision. It was true. Despite his rather harsh treatment of his students, Severus possessed the knowledge and the skills to make an excellent Defence instructor. He would need to have another conversation with him about his classroom behaviour, but he had faith in Severus.

“I don't give a damn how talented he is. The greasy git can't teach!” Harry shouted. “He's a foul, petty tosser who treats any non-Slytherin like absolute rubbish! He doesn't even try to teach us anything—he just insults us! He'll be no better than Umbridge was!”

“He's not wrong, Albus,” McGonagall said firmly. “Severus Snape may be the worst professor Hogwarts has ever known in all my time here—and that's saying something.”

“You exaggerate, both of you,” Dumbledore insisted. This was not what he had expected. He had assumed that Harry would object to his decision, and thought that Hermione might as well. But he did not anticipate Minerva joining in. He knew that she disapproved of Severus' appointment, but he had not expected her to openly oppose him in front of their students. Knowing that their Head of House agreed with them would only strengthen their opposition to Severus becoming the new Defence teacher. It seemed that inviting her to sit in on the meeting might have been an error, but it was too late to do anything about that now. All he could do now was attempt to bring all three of them around to his line of thinking. “Surely you can't believe he's worse than Gilderoy Lockhart, who knew nothing about the subject he was supposed to teach? Or Dolores Umbridge, who used her post to push Minister Fudge's agenda?”

“Professor Lockhart might have been clueless, but at least he didn't threaten us or insult us on a regular basis,” Hermione interjected. “As for Umbridge, I agree that she was an abomination. But at least we could understand that—she was here because your hands were tied by Fudge. But Snape? You hired him. You have kept him on all these years, even though you surely know how ghastly he treats anyone who isn't in Slytherin. And now you want to allow him to teach Defence? In the middle of a war? A proper Defence class is more important now than ever, and if Professor Snape is put in charge, we won't learn how to defend ourselves.” Dumbledore prepared to respond in defence of Severus, but Harry spoke first.

“You're wasting your breath, Hermione,” Harry said bitterly. “Dumbledore hasn't made any effort to make sure I'm properly prepared, and he's known for years that it would fall to me to finish Voldemort off! If he won't see to a genuine education for 'the Chosen One', why should anyone else be any different?”

“What do you mean, it's up to you to finish him off, Potter?” McGonagall asked.

“Harry, don't--” Dumbledore began in alarm, but Harry spoke over him.

“No, Headmaster. It's my decision who gets to know, and I'm going to tell her. I trust her—well, more than I trust you, at least. She has just as much right to know as you do. Hopefully she'll have a better understanding of where I'm coming from once she hears it,” Harry said.

“What? What don't I know?” McGonagall asked, looking at Dumbledore suspiciously. The Headmaster did not respond to her, though. All of his attention was squarely on Harry. He desperately wanted to prevent Harry from giving the contents of the prophecy to Minerva. In Dumbledore's mind, the fewer who knew what the prophecy said, the better. But there was something...different about the young man seated across from him. Dumbledore's intuition was telling him that he needed to tread very carefully with Harry at the moment. He was far angrier than Dumbledore had expected. He'd given Harry a wide berth for over a month, yet his anger towards him had only seemed to grow. Even more alarming, it was not the blind, emotional anger he'd shown when they had talked in this very office at the end of last term. It was...calculated. Harry was cross with him over more than just the events of last term, or what he'd just learned about Dumbledore's plans for the DADA post. Dumbledore would need to be very cautious, and do whatever he could to avoid upsetting Harry any further. Thus, since he knew Minerva could be trusted implicitly, he remained silent, leaving the decision up to Harry.

“Do you know about the prophecy?” Harry asked McGonagall.

“The one we protected throughout the past school year? I know only that it exists, and the Dark Lord wanted to hear what it said,” McGonagall answered. “That is all Albus told us, despite our protests.”

“Of course,” Harry said cynically. “He loves keeping things to himself, doesn't he? But he's told it to me, in full. It would've been nice if he'd bothered to tell me a bit earlier, since it does concern me directly, but better late than never, I suppose.”

“And what does this prophecy say, Potter?” McGonagall asked him. He didn't reply right away, and for a moment, Dumbledore thought that Harry had changed his mind. Instead, he merely signalled to Hermione, who spoke in his stead.

“It says that either Harry will kill Voldemort, or Voldemort will kill Harry,” Hermione said quietly, drawing a gasp from her Head of House.

Dumbledore watched as his Deputy Headmistress turned her head to fix him with a scowl. “And you knew this? You knew what this prophecy said, and never told Harry? How long did you know, exactly?”

“He's known for years, Professor,” Hermione answered immediately. “He knew of it before Harry's parents were killed.”

“All that time?” McGonagall exclaimed, her scowl deepening. “Albus Dumbledore! How could you keep that to yourself all that time? Didn't Potter deserve to know? And shouldn't you have done more to prepare him, if he's the one that must defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

“I concede that I should have told Harry about the prophecy much sooner than I did,” Dumbledore admitted. “I said as much to him at the end of term. But it was not a decision to be made lightly, nor was the possibility of giving him extra training to better prepare him for the task he must perform. The moment I told Harry about the prophecy, he would be a child no longer. I wanted Harry to have as normal and happy a childhood as possible, given the circumstances.”

“A normal childhood? Any chance of that was taken away from me the moment you left me on the Dursleys' doorstep,” Harry said flatly.

`I am sorry that the Dursleys didn't show you the love and affection they should have, Harry,” Dumbledore insisted. “I truly am. As I explained to you, however, it was, and still is, necessary that you spend at least a portion of your year living under the same roof as Petunia, your mother's sister. However poorly they may treat you, it is still the safest place for you to be when not at Hogwarts. Given who you are, given how badly Lord Voldemort and his followers wish to harm you, I am afraid that your health must trump your happiness in that case. You may resent me for placing you there, but I do not regret the decision I made fifteen years ago. You are alive, after all.”

Dumbledore meant it. Of course he regretted that Harry had had to grow up in an unhappy home. But he had been right to worry about Harry's health; all he'd been put through over the past few years was proof of that. It had not been an easy decision, leaving him on the Dursleys' doorstep all those years ago. But he still believed that it had been the correct one.

“I understand that, Headmaster,” Harry said honestly. “I understand why you left me there, and I don't blame you for making that decision. But you can't have it both ways. You can't condemn me to a rotten childhood one minute, and then try to preserve that so-called childhood by hiding things from me in the next.”

“Was it so wrong to want to shield you from such a heavy burden for as long as possible?” Dumbledore asked. “Your strained relationship with the Dursleys notwithstanding, you did find true companionship with Ms. Granger here, as well as Mr. Weasley. I suppose I was hoping you could make up for lost time by enjoying yourself with your friends here at Hogwarts.”

“And what about when I graduate? Am I supposed to go out and kill one of the most powerful wizards of all time with a basic Hogwarts education?” Harry retorted. “You might have kept the prophecy from me because you wanted to protect me, but you can't protect me. It's going to come down to me to kill him. You should have been doing everything you could to help me prepare for that. Because, right now? I have absolutely no chance of beating Voldemort. He'd wipe the floor with me.”

“With any luck, it will be many years before you must confront him for the final time,” Dumbledore stated, hoping to reassure Harry. Instead, his words only served to rile Harry up even further.

“How can you say that?” Harry snarled. “Even if I were able to avoid Voldemort and his Death Eaters for years—and a fat chance that that'll happen, since I've been fighting them since I was eleven—where would that leave everyone else? The longer this war lasts, the more innocent people Voldemort will kill. If it's going to be up to me to end the war, I should be working my arse off to get ready. And you should be helping me.”

“But that's just what I've done, Harry,” Dumbledore insisted. “I trust Professor Snape implicitly, and I am confident that he will make a fine Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor. Whether you like him or not, he'll be able to teach you things about the Dark Arts that none of your previous professors could have.”

“Things that he learned while he was a member of Voldemort's inner circle, you mean?” Harry said snidely. “I'm sure Snape knows loads about Defence, just like he knows loads about Potions, and Occlumency too. But what good would that do me? Why would Defence classes with him turn out any different from 5 years of Potions, or the Occlumency lessons you forced him to give me? He'd just spend all of the class time insulting me—well, except for the time that he'd use to insult my father, of course. I'm not taking any Defence class taught by that spiteful, greasy git.”

“I'm sorry, Harry, but the decision has already been made,” Dumbledore said sadly, disappointed that he still hadn't brought Harry around. “I know that you do not think fondly of Professor Snape, but I truly believe that he is the most qualified person available for the job. As soon as I can get Professor Slughorn to agree to come back as the Potions master, I will formally offer the Defence job to Severus.” He had hoped to make Harry understand that Severus was deserving of the post, even if they did dislike one another. It didn't look as if it was going to work. He only hoped that he could get back in Harry's good graces once term started.

McGonagall glared at him, irritated that he'd brushed aside Harry and Hermione's complaints against Snape—complaints she herself had been making for years. He refused to look at her, though, so she turned her attention to her two Gryffindors. Dumbledore did the same, observing the two teens in silence.

Harry and Hermione were staring intently at one another, communicating without actually speaking. Finally, after several long moments of silence, both teens nodded, and Harry shifted in his seat, looking back at Dumbledore once again.

“Then I'm pulling out of Hogwarts,” Harry said firmly.

-->

6. 6. Meeting at Hogwarts, Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 6: Meeting at Hogwarts, Part 2

McGonagall glared at him, irritated that he'd brushed aside Harry and Hermione's complaints against Snape—complaints she herself had been making for years. He refused to look at her, though, so she turned her attention to her two Gryffindors. Dumbledore did the same, observing the two teens in silence.

Harry and Hermione were staring intently at one another, communicating without actually speaking. Finally, after several long moments of silence, both teens nodded, and Harry shifted in his seat, looking back at Dumbledore once again.

“Then I'm pulling out of Hogwarts,” Harry said firmly.

McGonagall gasped, her face turning white, but Dumbledore barely remembered that she was even still in the room. His brain simply couldn't comprehend the words he'd just heard. Surely, Harry didn't say what he thought he'd said? The possibility was unthinkable. Dumbledore stared at Harry blankly, waiting for him to repeat himself so he could find out what he'd actually said. But Harry remained silent, looking back at him with an unwavering stare. Realising that he would need to be the one to move the conversation along, Dumbledore searched for the right words.

“I'm sorry, Harry, I'm afraid I misheard you,” Dumbledore finally managed. “Could you please repeat that?”

“If you give Snape the Defence job, I am going to withdraw from Hogwarts immediately,” Harry reiterated. “I will not leave it up to that git to teach me how to defend myself.”

Dumbledore couldn't pretend to have misunderstood him this time. Harry really had just threatened to leave Hogwarts! Did his hatred of Severus truly run so deep? Dumbledore stared at Harry in absolute shock, but the revelations weren't finished just yet.

“Nor will I,” Hermione chimed in. “If you're willing to give an abomination of a teacher like Snape such an important job while we are in the middle of a war, then Hogwarts clearly isn't the best place for me to be.”

Now, things were beginning to click into place inside of Dumbledore's mind. Harry was a strong-willed individual who would willingly defy authority if he thought it was necessary. But this was not an impulsive decision; Dumbledore could sense it. Harry wouldn't have blurted something like that out without thinking about it first. He'd come into this meeting today with this thought already in his mind, and so had Hermione. That was why he'd insisted she come along; they'd been planning to confront him. His announcement about Snape just brought it on even more quickly. But why did they think this course of action was necessary?

As Dumbledore was too busy thinking things over, it was his colleague who raised the first objection.

“But—what about your education?” McGonagall asked, stunned. “It would not be easy to transfer to another school, especially so close to the start of term.”

“We've looked into that. We know that, depending on the school, we could possibly have to sit out a term if we transfer now. But if it's necessary, both Harry and I are willing to do so,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. This confirmed Dumbledore's suspicions: they had walked into his office with this idea already having been formed. Not only that, but they'd taken the time to look into other schools. This was a calculated move on their part, and one they'd taken care to hide from him until this very moment. For once, Albus Dumbledore had been caught completely off-guard.

“You certainly seem to have done considerable research on this matter, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore said, his voice much calmer than he felt inside. “Yet, before this meeting began, I doubt you had even the slightest inkling that I was planning to offer Severus the job. I must say that I'm rather curious as to why you seem to have looked into the transfer policies of other magical institutions.”

“That shouldn't be too hard to figure out,” Harry replied. “We were already thinking about leaving Hogwarts before today. You giving Snape the Defence job only makes our decision easier.”

“I understand that you're upset with Albus—and with good reason, in my opinion,” McGonagall stated, shooting her superior a dark look, “but I do find it odd that his questionable decision regarding the prophecy upset you to the point that you've been considering a transfer.”

“This goes far beyond the prophecy, or Snape,” Hermione insisted. “Headmaster Dumbledore has made several questionable decisions over the years. Some of them have affected the quality of education offered, while others have actually put the students in immediate danger. We came here today knowing it might be our very last time inside the castle. And, like Harry said, Snape becoming the new Defence professor made up our minds for us.” Dumbledore frowned, but said nothing. He had an idea of some of the events they might be referencing, but it troubled him that they seemed to think he might have been at fault for them. Prior to his little outburst at the end of last term, Harry hadn't seemed to place much blame on him for events that had occurred within Hogwarts, so why now? What had changed?

“I'm sorry to hear that,” McGonagall said with a frown, before asking the same question that had been on Dumbledore's mind, “but why did you spring this on us now? Why didn't you come to either Headmaster Dumbledore or myself with these problems before now?”

“Truthfully, I didn't see how many problems there really were,” Hermione answered, before stopping to consider. “Or maybe I didn't want to see them. Either way, Harry helped open my eyes this summer. And once he got me started, I began to look back on my 5 years at this school in a very different light.”

This was bad, Dumbledore thought to himself. Very bad indeed. He knew that he'd made a few errors in recent times, most notably in regards to how he'd handled Harry since Voldemort's “rebirth” a little over a year earlier. But he was not used to others examining his decision-making enough to notice on the rare occasions that he did slip up, much less have the courage to call him out so openly. Not to mention, Hermione's answer seemed to suggest that his mistakes went back considerably further than a year.

“By all means, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, share your grievances with us,” Dumbledore said quietly, any hint of his usual jovial demeanour long gone. He fought down his sense of foreboding, and strived not to dismiss what his two students said out of hand. He did not doubt that both students were sincerely considering leaving the school, and knew he must do whatever he could to ensure that that did not happen. It was absolutely imperative that Harry Potter remained at Hogwarts, both for his own good and for the good of the budding war with Voldemort. He needed to hear them out, and do whatever he could to respond to their issues and restore their faith in both Hogwarts, and himself.

“We have problems with some of the Hogwarts faculty, but that's not the biggest issue. The biggest issue is the safety of this school. It's supposedly well-protected, but Harry has found himself in life-threatening situations every single year,” Hermione said. Dumbledore couldn't argue with that; Harry and his friends got themselves mixed up in some crisis or another on a regular basis. But he failed to see how this was all his fault.

“That's true, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall agreed, “but is the Headmaster really responsible for that? I seem to remember Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and yourself ignoring the warnings of the faculty, and actually seeking out those dangerous situations.”

Dumbledore smiled, pleased that his Deputy Headmistress had backed him up. If he'd said those same words in defence of himself, it would not have had the same impact. Hearing them from her would likely carry far more weight for Harry and Hermione.

Or so he thought. But, to his surprise, he noted that neither Harry nor Hermione seemed the least bit swayed. They looked just as determined as before, if not more so. Hermione looked directly at her Head of House, not backing down an inch.

“Like the incident with Professor Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone, you mean?” Hermione asked. McGonagall nodded, but Hermione appeared unphased. “Yes, we willingly went into that situation, knowing it might threaten our lives. But we did that because we had to. Someone had to prevent Voldemort from getting his hands on the Philosopher's Stone. The Headmaster couldn't do it. He was lured out of the castle by a phony letter from the Ministry—and, for some reason, he decided to fly there when he could've simply apparated or used the floo.” Dumbledore looked and felt sheepish at this rebuke, but Hermione singled out the other adult in the room next. “We tried to come to you and tell you what was happening, Professor McGonagall, but you refused to listen to a word we were saying. That left it up to us. Three first years had to prevent Voldemort from gaining immortality. I don't think that hurts our point at all. I think it helps prove it.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes momentarily, trying to come up with a feasible defence. Eventually, one came to him. “I think you would have found that the stone would have been safe until I got back to the castle. The mirror would not have worked for Voldemort and Quirrell. That's why you were able to catch up to them, Harry, and I am confident that if you three hadn't gotten involved, they would still have been stuck at that stage of their plot when I returned. Your efforts were admirable, but unnecessary.”

“You can't say that for sure,” Harry fired back. “You think you're so clever, and no one can outsmart you. But Voldemort's done it several times, hasn't he? He just did it a few months ago, and he did it with the goblet in my 4th year, too. Who says he couldn't have done it then, and found a way past the mirror? And besides, there's another problem with this. Why was the stone in Hogwarts to begin with?”

“As I told you, Harry, Nicolas Flamel asked me to relocate it because he feared that Voldemort would attempt to steal it,” Dumbledore answered calmly. This was true; it had been his friend Nicolas that approached him about moving the stone out of its vault in Gringotts. Since it hadn't even been his idea to move it, he hardly felt it was fair for Harry to place the blame on him.

As he was about to learn, though, Harry didn't see it quite the same way.

“So you decided that you'd move it to a school?” Harry said hotly. “You put every bloody Hogwarts student in danger by hiding the stone inside the castle! If you hadn't put it here, we wouldn't have had to risk our lives to keep it out of Voldemort's hands in the first place!” Dumbledore broke eye contact with Harry and bowed his had. He had no response for that criticism.

Hermione picked up where Harry had left off. “And how about the Chamber of Secrets in our 2nd year?” she asked. “Several Hogwarts students—myself included—were petrified by that basilisk. That was another example of this school not being near as safe as you claim it is.”

“Indeed it was,” Dumbledore agreed, “but I don't believe I could have handled that situation any differently. The faculty and I did the best we could to protect the students, but we didn't have enough information to go on. Also, I hope you don't mind my doing so, but I would point out that you, Harry, withheld information from me that might have helped. If you'd told me about the voices you were hearing, perhaps we'd have been able to get to the bottom of that dilemma sooner.”

“That's fair. I should have told you what I was hearing,” Harry said. “But it still doesn't excuse you from not figuring it out based on what you did know. Hermione, a 2nd year, got to the bottom of it long before anyone else. None of your professors could make the connection between petrified students and basilisks? All the information you needed was right in your own library! But, again, it was up to us. Hermione had to figure out what it was that was attacking the students, and after it petrified her, Ron and I had to find the chamber, deal with the basilisk and save Ginny.”

“That's true, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a nod, “but I feel I should mention that, being a Parselmouth, you were uniquely suited to handle that particular problem. Even if I had known precisely what lurked in the Chamber of Secrets, and known exactly where the Chamber was, I would have been powerless to do anything to stop it. In the end, only you could have saved Ginny.”

“I still don't see how you didn't at least figure out a basilisk was responsible, but we have plenty of other problems we want to bring up, so let's just move on,” Hermione said. “In our third year, we gradually unravelled the truth behind what happened the night that Harry's parents were killed. We learned that the commonly-held belief was wrong; that it was Peter Pettigrew, and not Sirius Black, that betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort. I think it's fair to say that just about anyone in the wizarding world would be stunned to hear that, after all these years. But when we told you what we'd learned, you didn't seem surprised at all. You believed our story quite readily. It makes me wonder if maybe you suspected the truth all along.”

Dumbledore felt the sting of that accusation. Did they really think so little of him, that they could believe that he would knowingly allow an innocent man to rot in Azkaban? One glance at Harry told him that he felt exactly the same as Hermione. Had Harry's faith in his Headmaster been shattered so completely?

“Before that day, I did not have the slightest inkling of what had really happened,” Dumbledore insisted. “Your parents never informed me that they had switched Secret Keepers, so as far as I knew, Sirius was the only one who could have betrayed them to Voldemort. There was simply nothing that suggested any other possibility. As to why I so readily believed what you were telling me? That was simple. If Sirius really had betrayed your parents and joined Voldemort's side, destroying you would've been his top priority upon breaking out of Azkaban. And yet, you came face-to-face with Sirius, and he made no attempt to harm you or abduct you. Once I accepted that as fact, your story became much more plausible.”

“But why didn't you push for him to be given a trial?” Harry countered, his voice rising. “With your influence, I bet you could've pulled that off. And even if you thought he was guilty, didn't he at least deserve a chance to defend himself before he got chucked in Azkaban with the bloody Dementors?” Harry's voice was full of so much anger and contempt, it gave Dumbledore pause. He made a concerted effort to phrase his reply carefully, not wanting to anger him any further.

“If I'd pushed for it very strongly, perhaps I would have been able to ensure a proper trial for Sirius,” Dumbledore began. “Since I myself presented evidence indicating that Sirius had been the Secret Keeper, though, it would have been very difficult to pull off, even for me. There was sufficient evidence to link Sirius with the crime, and with the public outrage towards him, speaking up on his behalf would have been a very dangerous political move. And since I too believed that he was guilty, I did not see much point in the effort. Truthfully, my chief concern at that time was your safety, Harry.”

“You said there was evidence that linked him to betraying the Potters, but he still should have been given a chance to defend himself!” Hermione replied. “He could've been given Veritaserum, or a Pensieve could've been used to view his memories!”

“Neither of those would have been permissible in court,” McGonagall stated. “There is an antidote for Veritaserum, and a master Occlumens can also resist its effects. Also, someone under Veritaserum only states what they believe to be the truth, not necessarily what is the truth, meaning the testimony of a defendant whose mental health was in question would be worthless. And as useful as Pensieves are, memories can be tampered with, if the witch or wizard is talented enough to do so.”

Dumbledore could see that Harry wasn't entirely satisfied with that answer, but accepted that they were being honest with him. Wanting to move the conversation along, the Headmaster spoke up. “Even if I had managed to procure a trial for Sirius, there would have been no hope of an acquittal—not without evidence. Now, what else would you like to discuss?” he asked.

“There are things from 4th year that we could bring up, but I want to jump to this last year...the one that started to change my opinion of you,” Harry said, the contempt in his voice making Dumbledore very uncomfortable. “At the end of term, you explained why you never told me about the prophecy. I'm mad as hell at you for hiding that from me, but you've given me your explanation, and I understand it. But I still don't get why you treated me the way you did during the year. You ignored me, and went out of your way to avoid me. I know that you said you didn't want Voldemort to be able to learn anything important, but that just doesn't make sense to me. All you really did was make me feel even more isolated and alone, which played right into Voldemort's hands. You ignoring me and keeping me in the dark just made me all the more determined to find out what was going on, and Voldemort used that to his advantage. If you'd told me what I needed to know, instead of treating me like a child, maybe I would've known better than to walk into that trap he laid in the Department of Mysteries.”

“I readily acknowledge that I made several mistakes where you were concerned, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh, “but I feel I have already done my best to explain my reasoning in making those decisions. Ignoring you was a mistake, yes. I'd hoped that doing so would make it less likely for Voldemort to try and influence you through your unique...connection, but I was wrong. I should not have ignored you, and I apologize for that. Should I have told you about the prophecy much sooner than I did? Yes, I should have. At the very least, I should have told you of its existence once I decided that Voldemort would attempt to get it. I did consider doing exactly that, but it was your own personality that led to the discarding of that option.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked angrily. “Are you trying to say it's my fault that you hid the prophecy from me?” Dumbledore shook his head quickly, eager to clarify what he'd meant.

“No, Harry, that's not what I am trying to say,” Dumbledore insisted. “It was not your fault in the least. It was my decision, and I take full responsibility for it. I am merely trying to explain myself. As you know, I was still not ready to share the contents of the prophecy with you at that time, because I thought it would be too great a burden for you to bear. Over the last year, I did contemplate telling you that there was something Voldemort was after within the Ministry of Magic building, and that only you and he would be able to retrieve it. However, you are a naturally curious person, Harry. It must be in your blood, because your father was exactly the same way.” Dumbledore said this last bit with a slight smile on his face, trying to improve Harry's mood to some degree. Harry just continued staring at him frostily, however, so Dumbledore moved on.

“You've shown your extreme curiosity many times in the past, Harry,” Dumbledore continued. “If something catches your attention, you will pursue it relentlessly. You did it with the Philosopher's Stone, you did it with the Chamber of Secrets, you did it with Sirius Black. I was afraid that giving you any information about the prophecy would only lead to you trying to get your hands on it yourself, so you could find out what it said. In the end, it happened anyway, but for a very different reason.”

“You have a point about Harry's curiosity,” Hermione agreed. Dumbledore smiled, relieved that he seemed to have at least brought Hermione around, but the feeling was short-lived. “But you know what the best solution would have been? Actually telling Harry exactly what he needed to know. He wouldn't have rushed to or been lured to the Department of Mysteries if you'd just told him what that prophecy said...what his parents died for.” Dumbledore opened his mouth to try and defend himself, but McGonagall cut him off.

“She's right, Albus. As much as you might have wished to shield him or protect him, you knew how big a role Harry will evidently be forced to play in this war. You should have been doing more to prepare him for it, rather than keeping him in the dark just like the rest of us.”

Dumbledore frowned, both surprised and dismayed that his Deputy Headmistress continued to back their students' claims, giving weight to them in the process. If she continued to do so, it would make it even harder for him to appease Harry. He briefly considered attempting to dismiss his colleague from the meeting, but he worried that that act of self-preservation could turn Harry and Hermione even further away from him.

“Do you get it now, Headmaster?” Harry asked. “Do you see that it isn't just about Snape, or about the prophecy, or any one thing? As much as people look up to you, and look to you to lead them, you've made several decisions that have affected me greatly. Whatever your reasons for doing what you've done, I've lost my faith in you. And that, more than anything else, is why Hogwarts doesn't seem like the best place for me to be any more.”

Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his hand across his face, at a loss for words. Every decision he'd made had been “for the greater good”, but he was only now beginning to see things from Harry's point of view. He'd always been so sure that his judgement was sound, and his decisions were the correct ones. The past few months had proven that, for all his cleverness, he was not infallible after all. And over the past few minutes, Harry and Hermione had made that fact abundantly clear. He had had the very best of intentions, but some of his decisions were now coming back to haunt him. In particular, his attempt to shield Harry as best he could by withholding things from him. That was simply the way he was accustomed to dealing with things; he gave information out very reluctantly, and only when he felt it was absolutely necessary. He told people only what he felt they needed to know, and trusted only himself with the rest. It had always seemed like the best approach in the past, but doing it with Harry had been a huge mistake. He may have done so with Harry's happiness in mind, but what he had ultimately done was drive a wedge between them. A wedge that was apparently about to drive Harry away from Hogwarts, and out on his own.

“As I said, I acknowledge that I have not always made sound judgements where you are concerned, Harry,” he said softly. “I do apologize for the mistakes I have made, and the pain they have caused you. I am also sorry that you no longer have faith in me, though I understand why you feel that way. If nothing else, I hope you can accept that I am sincere in my regret?”

After a brief pause, Harry nodded slowly. “I do, sir,” he said quietly. “I believe that you were doing what you thought was best. But that isn't enough. Some of your decisions have backfired spectacularly, and no one has paid the price for them more than I have. Well, except Sirius, I guess,” Harry finished, an anguished look on his face. McGonagall looked at him in silent sympathy, while Hermione placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dumbledore felt his pain as well, but as there were no adequate words of comfort he could offer, he tried to help in another way: letting Harry get his troubles off of his chest.

“Your problems with me aside, was there anything else that influenced your decision to look into other institutions?” he asked openly.

Harry and Hermione talked quietly amongst themselves for a moment before answering him. “There is the obvious issue of Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione stated. “Harry's said before, and I agree, that it is the most important subject taught at Hogwarts, yet we've had a poor instructor almost every year.”

Harry took over from there, as he began naming off the various DADA professors during their time at Hogwarts, along with their respective shortcomings. “Quirrell was too busy stuttering and trembling to actually teach us anything—oh, and he tried to kill me at the end of the year. Lockhart was an incompetent idiot who couldn't have taught us anything if he'd tried—and when Ron and I forced him to go down to the Chamber with us so we could save Ginny, he tried to Obliviate us. The fake Moody was actually a halfway decent teacher, even if he was a Death Eater under Polyjuice. Of course, him setting a trap that took me straight to Voldemort, and then trying to kill me himself when his master failed, sort of wiped out whatever good he did. Umbridge was, of course, a bloody nightmare who was only there to push the Ministry's garbage down everyone's throats. In our five years here, there's only been one Defence teacher I actually liked: Moony.”

“And even he threatened our lives at one point, though he wasn't 'himself' at the time,” Hermione added with a smirk.

Dumbledore smiled inwardly, pleased at this particular objection. He felt he had sound arguments that absolved him from the blame for most of their complaints about the DADA professors. In the process, he could hopefully begin convincing them that, even if they had their gripes towards him, Hogwarts wasn't such a bad place to be after all.

“I agree that Defence Against the Dark Arts is a most crucial subject for our students to learn,” Dumbledore began. “And while I do also agree that the quality of instruction has not always been strong in that particular course, I do believe there are plausible reasons for that. Perhaps the two of you have heard the rumour that the job is cursed?”

“That's rubbish,” Hermione responded, scoffing. “It's just a silly superstition, and nothing more. How could someone place a curse on a job?”

“It may well be rubbish,” Dumbledore conceded, “though I have my doubts. You likely aren't aware of this, but Tom Riddle himself has applied for the position. Twice, in fact. And after he was rejected for the 2nd time, no one has ever held onto the job for more than a single school year. Whatever we may think of him, there is no denying that Tom Riddle—or Lord Voldemort, as he now prefers to be called—is an extremely powerful wizard. If anyone would be capable of something as odd as cursing a job, it would be him.”

“I still don't believe it,” Hermione insisted. “How would he be able to do something like that? It's just illogical.”

“Even if you are right, Ms. Granger, all that matters is that it has become a widespread belief that the job is cursed. As a result of that notion, it is a nearly impossible position to fill. The longer we go without a single professor lasting more than a year, the harder it becomes to find anyone competent who is willing to take the job. I gave it to Professor Quirrell in your 1st year because he had always been a reliable instructor while teaching Muggle Studies, and with his sudden willingness to take the Defence job, he appeared to be the best candidate. You may remember that, in your 2nd year, Gilderoy Lockhart was the only applicant for the job, so I had little choice but to hire him, whether I believed his stories or not.” Hermione nodded slowly, accepting what he'd said thus far. Dumbledore smiled in response, and his voice took on a more cheery tone as he continued.

“It took considerable coaxing on my part to convince Professor Lupin to take the job in your 3rd year, but I am pleased that you felt he did an admirable job. I believe Alastor Moody would also have been a good Defence teacher, had Barty Crouch Jr. not deprived him of the opportunity. And as you have already remarked, I had no say in Dolores being given the position this past year. I would rather have let the subject go untaught than allow that woman to set foot on these grounds, but I had no choice in the matter. I know that Defence hasn't always been well-taught during your time here, and for that I do apologize. However, I hope that you can see that I have done the best that I can under the circumstances, with next to no one wanting to take the job.”

“I guess I see your point,” Harry remarked, drawing a broad smile from Dumbledore. “But that still doesn't explain why you've never tried to teach me any advanced spells or anything, especially since you knew that some of the Defence teachers were shoddy. If you knew all along that it'd be up to me to get rid of Voldemort once and for all, you should have done more to prepare me for it.”

“Perhaps I should have, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “but as you've already heard my reasoning for not doing so, I do not think there is anything to be gained by rehashing that topic. Now, is there anything I can do to convince you to remain here at Hogwarts?”

Hermione looked as if she was about to reply, but Harry waved her off.

“Before we came in here today, I hoped that there was. I hoped you could convince me to stay, because honestly, I don't want to leave this place behind yet. It's the closest thing I've ever had to a home, not to mention that having your support—true support, not secrets and manipulation—would be a huge help against Voldemort. But as soon as you said that Snape was going to be the Defence teacher, I knew I couldn't stay.”

“You are quite insistent on this, aren't you, Harry?” Dumbledore said quietly. “No matter what else I might offer, you truly will leave Hogwarts if Severus becomes the Defence instructor.” Dumbledore's last sentence was more a statement of fact than a question, but Harry answered it anyhow.

“Yes, I will. I'm not sure where I'll go just yet, but I'm not staying here if that petty wanker gets the job.”

“I feel exactly the same way. If Harry leaves, I'm leaving with him,” Hermione offered, backing her best friend up.

Dumbledore knew that they meant it. If he went through with his plan to give the job to Severus, Harry would leave, and he would take Hermione with him. He simply couldn't allow that to happen. Harry needed to remain at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore would do whatever he had to do, make any concessions he needed to make, to ensure that he stayed.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said, resigned. “You two have made your point. If you are that opposed to it, then I will not offer the job to Severus.”

“Really?” Harry said, regarding him with scepticism. Dumbledore could see that the boy no longer trusted him as he once did, and resolved to do what he could to regain that trust, if given the opportunity.

“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore affirmed. “I may trust Professor Snape with my life, but I understand that he hasn't given you cause to feel the same way. If Severus becoming the new Defence professor would drive you from Hogwarts, then I will just have to find someone else to take the job. It may be difficult on such short notice, but I will see what I can do.”

After staring at Dumbledore silently for several long moments, as well as sharing a look with Hermione, Harry finally replied. “I'm surprised,” he said. “I didn't think you'd change your mind. Can't remember you ever doing it before.”

Dumbledore regarded him seriously. “I do believe that Severus would have made an excellent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. However, as you and Ms. Granger have seen fit to point out to me, my decisions have not always been the best, particularly of late. And you are correct that Severus' classroom behaviour is not what it should be. My own feelings towards Severus notwithstanding, I would imagine you two would not be the only students who would have been upset had he been given the position.” Hermione snorted at that understatement, but Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't heard her.

“Aside from that, I cannot give him the position if it would lead to you dropping out of Hogwarts. Keeping you here is one of my top priorities, Harry. It will eventually fall to you to defeat Voldemort, and I must do whatever I can to aid you. It would be rather more difficult for me to aid you if you were to leave Hogwarts. Even if you did not bear the weight of such a great burden, though, I believe I would still wish to keep you here at Hogwarts if at all possible. You are quite a remarkable young man, Harry, and I believe in you. I believe that, when the time comes, you will be up to the task.”

“And if...if I stay...you'll help me get ready for it?” Harry asked. “You'll teach me things that will help against Voldemort and his Death Eaters?”

“I will do what I can to help you prepare, yes,” Dumbledore assured him. “If you want my honest opinion, though, it won't be any intricate curse or special power that will allow you to beat Voldemort in the end. You will beat him because of your selflessness. When innocent lives are threatened—particularly of those that you care for—you become more powerful than Voldemort could ever be. He will never fight to protect the well-being of others, because he cares for nothing and no one but himself. You'll have something meaningful to fight for, and Voldemort will not. In the end, that will be his downfall.”

Dumbledore did his best to show Harry that he meant every word that he said—that he did believe in him, and he would do his best to help him prepare for his eventual showdown with Voldemort. Harry looked him in the eyes for what felt like hours, but neither of them spoke. Dumbledore was trying to convince Harry that he was sincere, but he could see that Harry still looked doubtful.

“And will you keep Harry informed about what's going on with the war?” Hermione asked on her friend's behalf. “Will you stop hiding things from him, and stop trying to keep him in the dark?”

Dumbledore looked back and forth between both Hermione and Harry, seeing that this was another crucial point. At that moment, he made a quick decision that would eventually change the entire complexion of the war.

“I will make you a deal, Harry,” he began. “I will keep you abreast of everything that happens in the war. When I learn something that is worth knowing, I will share it with you as soon as I have the opportunity. In return, you must promise that if you happen to learn anything important, whether it be through your connection with Voldemort or through some other means, you will come straight to me, or to Professor McGonagall if I am unavailable. You will share it with us, and let us decide the best course of action to take. You, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley must not rush off into the middle of a conflict all by yourselves, as you have been prone to do in the past.”

“That's fair,” Harry agreed. Dumbledore smiled, happy that he and Harry seemed to be on the same wavelength once again.

“So, will you two be returning to Hogwarts as scheduled?” Dumbledore asked, as calmly as he could manage under the circumstances. Harry glanced at Hermione briefly before answering.

“Yeah, I guess we will,” Harry said. Dumbledore smiled in overwhelming relief, but Harry wasn't done just yet. “That doesn't mean everything's fine between us, though. I'm still angry about a lot of the things you've done, and I don't trust you the way that I used to. I don't know if I ever will again,” he finished quietly. Dumbledore nodded solemnly, understanding that he would have to earn Harry's trust back after all that he'd kept hidden from him.

“And it doesn't mean we won't change our minds in the future,” Hermione added. “If we think you haven't lived up to your word, transferring is still an option. We'll even do it in the middle of term, if we need to.”

“Understood, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore said affably. “You are certainly entitled to pull out of the school at any time, should you find it lacking. I sincerely hope that that will not be necessary.” Harry and Hermione both nodded, and Dumbledore gave them both his best grandfatherly smile. “Thank you both for giving me a chance to make amends for past mistakes,” he said.

“You're welcome, Headmaster,” Hermione said. “And thanks for listening to us. We both know that you can be a big help to Harry. But I hope you realise that this is your last chance. Harry and I are both reluctant to return, after everything we've gone through in this castle, but we're coming back because we know how great a help you could be for Harry. Don't make us regret it.”

“I will do my very best to ensure that you don't,” Dumbledore said, looking directly into Harry's eyes as he did so. He saw the determination in those emerald orbs, and knew that he would need to do exactly that. Once upon a time, Harry believed in him, had faith in him. But the mistakes he'd made in the past had ruined that, and now, Harry did not trust him to do what was best, or to make the right decisions. He would need to do exactly as he'd promised. He would need to keep Harry informed, and he would need to teach him whatever he could. The two of them had to work past this trust issue and form a united front against Voldemort.

The fate of magical Britain depended on it.

--NMM--

A/N: For those of you who might be disappointed that Harry & Hermione are returning to Hogwarts: they meant what they said. They'll be paying close attention, and if they think Dumbledore isn't holding up his end of the bargain, they will not hesitate to leave Hogwarts immediately. And don't worry about Harry automatically forgiving Dumbledore and resuming his old reverence of the man. That won't be happening in this story. This Harry is not going to just do whatever Dumbledore tells him to do without question.

Lastly, a big thanks to gal-texter for helping me get these chapters posted again.

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7. 7. Getting Defensive

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 7: Getting Defensive

The instant that Harry and Hermione returned to The Burrow via the fireplace, Ron was right there to greet them. He looked back and forth between both of his friends, trying to gauge how their meeting went. They both looked exhausted, as if their talk with Dumbledore had taken a lot out of them. And yet, they didn't look altogether unhappy.

“Well?” Ron demanded, deciding to get straight to the point. They'd made him a promise, after all.

“I know, I know,” Harry said, understanding that Ron wanted answers. “We're going to do what we promised. Let's go up to your room, yeah?”

Ron nodded in agreement and headed straight for the stairs. Harry and Hermione followed close behind him, ignoring the curious looks of the other inhabitants of The Burrow. Perhaps they'd give the others at least partial answers some other time, but right now, they had a promise to keep.

The trio walked in silence, and as soon as Hermione stepped into Ron's room and closed the door behind her, Ron pounced on them.

“So, what was all this about? Why did you make sure Hermione came with you?”

“Like you said before, Ron, Harry and I were “up to something” over the summer,” Hermione said. “Before the end of last term, Harry said some things that caught my attention, so we spent most of the summer communicating with each other.”

“Communicating? How? You didn't see each other until Harry came here yesterday,” Ron pointed out, confused.

“We did it through the muggle post,” Harry answered. “We didn't want anyone from the wizarding world to know about it, and we figured that would be a pretty good way to do it.”

“I guess,” Ron said, “but why not use those fellytone things? Wouldn't that have been faster?”

“Yes, telephones would have been faster,” Hermione agreed, “but there were reasons we decided against using them. For one, Harry's aunt and uncle put up enough of a stink about us sending letters back and forth. Convincing them to let us use their phone would've been rather difficult. And aside from that, we thought there would be a greater chance of someone from the Order figuring out what we were up to if we used the phone, which could easily be overheard.”

Ron nodded; he didn't know much about muggle things, but Hermione's explanation seemed to make sense. But wait...

“The Order? You didn't want the Order to know what you were talking about? But the Order are the good guys! Why would you want to keep secrets from them?” Ron asked, shocked.

Harry and Hermione shared a look, knowing that it was time to fill their other best friend in. Seeing that Harry seemed a bit tongue-tied, Hermione went first.

“It all started when Harry came to visit me in the hospital wing,” she began...

--NMM--

Untold minutes later, they'd finished the tale of their summer. Ron had asked the occasional question and raised the occasional objection, but had remained silent for the most part. As his two best friends went through all of their points one by one, Ron's world changed bit by bit. His whole life, he'd been told how great Albus Dumbledore was. He'd revered the man, just like practically everyone else in the wizarding world did. But, with every mistake or poor decision that Harry and Hermione brought up, Ron's reverence of the Headmaster was diminished. By the time they got to the prophecy, and how Dumbledore had hidden its contents from Harry for all those years, Ron's opinion of the vaunted wizard had changed drastically. He now saw him in much the same light as Harry and Hermione did: a very powerful and cunning wizard who was sometimes too clever for his own good, and put absolute faith in his own judgement without bothering to consult anyone else.

“Do you understand now, Ron?” Hermione asked, after all three members of the trio had been quiet for several moments. “Do you see why we did this in secret?”

“Yeah, I do,” Ron said. “You had to work out your feelings about Dumbledore without him knowing, and once you did that, you had to figure out what you were going to do. But I wish you would've told me.”

“I wish we could have,” Harry said earnestly, “but it would've been hard. For one thing, talking with you over the summer without Dumbledore or anybody else knowing would've been tough to do, since we wouldn't have been able to rely on any muggle means of communication. And besides, we weren't sure how you'd react to all of this. I mean, it was easier for me and Hermione to accept this, because we've only been hearing about how great Dumbledore is for the last five years or so. You've been hearing it all your life. We just didn't know if you'd be able to listen to what we were saying.”

Ron nodded, showing he understood. “I get it, Harry. You couldn't risk talking to me until you'd confronted Dumbledore. And you're right; this was a bloody big surprise. I mean, he's Dumbledore! He's supposed to have all the answers, yeah? But I'm with you guys. Dumbledore's a great wizard, but he's cocked a lot of things up lately.” Hermione scolded Ron for his language, but Harry just chuckled.

“He sure has,” Harry said, nodding, “which is why we had to do what we did.”

“Speaking of which, how did that go?” Ron asked. “I'm guessing you didn't wind up actually dropping out of Hogwarts, because you would've mentioned that first thing. So Dumbledore agreed to make some changes, then?”

“Well...not at first, no,” Harry began. “There was a little bit there where I thought we really would be leaving, right after he said he was gonna give Snape the Defence job.”

“Wait—what? Snape's going to teach Defence?” Ron interrupted hotly. “Are you bloody joking?”

“Yes, it was a terrible idea, wasn't it?” Hermione murmured. “Fortunately, Dumbledore backed down once he realised there was no way Harry would return to Hogwarts if Snape was given the job.”

“Good. I don't think I coulda handled that greaseball teaching Defence,” Ron said, relieved. “So if Snape isn't gonna get the job, who is?”

“We don't know,” Harry said, shrugging. “Dumbledore was all set on Snape, so he didn't really have anybody else in mind yet. Guess we'll find out soon, though.”

“Well, whoever it is, they can't be any worse than Snape. Or Umbridge, even,” Ron mused. “How'd the rest of it go? Is Dumbledore going to stop hiding things from you, Harry? Is he going to help you get ready to fight You-Know-Who?”

“He says he will,” Harry said, “but we'll see. I'm not going to just forget all the things he's hidden from me over the years, or the mistakes he's made. I'm not going to trust his word just like that.”

“That's probably a good idea,” Ron agreed. “We'll need to pay attention, and make sure he's doing what he promised. Still, he did agree to tell you things, and help you train?” he repeated. At Harry's nod, he continued. “Well that's good, at least. With Dumbledore helping you, you'll be able to take You-Know-Who down no problem.”

Ron noticed that Harry looked rather uncomfortable, and looked at him curiously. “Something wrong, Harry?”

“You didn't really react to the prophecy earlier,” Harry said quietly.

“I was still trying to accept what you two were telling me about Dumbledore,” Ron said, shrugging. “It's not like it was a big surprise, anyway. Who else would stop You-Know-Who? I mean, of course it's going to be you. It's always been up to you, even back in our first year with the Philosopher's Stone. I didn't need some prophecy to tell me that you would be the one to beat him.”

Ron didn't understand why Harry felt uncomfortable about this, but it was obvious that his explanation hadn't made much of a difference. Harry looked down at Ron's bed, avoiding eye contact with both he and Hermione. Ron looked to Hermione for an explanation. She seemed to have a better idea about what was bothering Harry, but the look she gave Ron told him that he would not be getting any answers from her.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to.

“This doesn't...change anything?” Harry asked, still keeping his eyes locked on the bedspread.

“What do you mean, Harry? Why would this change anything?” Ron asked, gawking at Harry like he'd sprouted a second head.

“Knowing what I'm going to have to do, knowing I'm either going to be murdered or become a murderer myself...it doesn't scare you off? It doesn't make you want to get the hell away from me?”

Ron stared at Harry, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He glanced quickly at Hermione, but her glistening brown eyes were locked solely on Harry. She reached out and clasped his hand, offering whatever comfort she could. Realising he hadn't answered Harry, Ron shook his head rapidly, determined to work past his initial loss for words so he could reassure his best mate.

“Are you serious, Harry? You think I'm going to ditch you—over this? Look, mate, I wish you didn't have to do this. I wish You-Know-Who had never killed your parents. I wish you could've had a happy childhood, like I did. I wish you, me and Hermione could be normal teenagers, with no dark wizards to worry about. But we can't—and that's NOT your fault. I know you didn't ask for any of this, but I know you can do it. I know you can beat You-Know-Who. And me and Hermione will help you as much as we can. No matter what, we're gonna be there for you.”

Harry still hadn't looked up, but Ron could see the small smile on his best mate's face. Ron smiled himself, happy he'd gotten his point across. Hermione smiled gratefully at him, and Ron smiled back, shrugging his shoulders to show it hadn't been a big deal. And it hadn't, not really. All he'd done was tell Harry the truth. Whatever danger awaited Harry, he would be right there with him. He'd stand with Harry to the end. And it went without saying that Hermione would do the same.

All three members of the trio were silent for quite some time after that, but it was a comfortable silence. All three of the teens were thinking about everything they'd been through together, and everything they'd yet to go through. No matter what lurked around the corner, they would face it together.

--NMM--

It had been an uneventful couple of days for Harry. Hermione had returned to her house not long after their meeting with Dumbledore, while he'd remained at The Burrow. The rest of the Weasleys had been very curious about the meeting, but Harry and Ron were selective with what they shared. They didn't go into great detail, but did mention that Harry and Hermione were able to convince Dumbledore that Snape would be a terrible choice for the DADA job. The rest of it, they kept to themselves, since they weren't sure how Ron's parents would react to such strong criticisms of the beloved Headmaster. Harry and Ron had spent the past two days at The Burrow, sans Hermione. Harry had enjoyed the company of Ron and some of his siblings, Ginny in particular, but he had to admit that he missed Hermione. He couldn't recall ever missing her as much as he had over the previous two days, which was strange. Perhaps he simply felt closer to her after all they'd shared over the summer. Whatever it was, he had been very aware of missing her presence over the past two days.

But that was about to change. Headmaster Dumbledore had informed them that he would be stopping by The Burrow, and asked that Hermione join them as well. They'd made arrangements for Dumbledore to stop by Hermione's house and temporarily connect it to the floo network, and the two of them would then floo to The Burrow shortly after lunchtime. And, as Harry restlessly noted to himself, that was right about now. The day had been going by excruciatingly slowly, but it was almost time. He would soon see Hermione again, and he couldn't wait.

As if on cue, his bushy-haired friend arrived via the Weasleys' fireplace, doing so far more gracefully than Harry had ever managed. The moment she spotted Harry sitting on the couch, her face broke into a wide smile. Harry smiled right back and stood to greet her, and barely had time to react before her body collided with his, wrapping him up in a tight hug. Harry wrapped his own arms around her body, returning her hug with just as much force. He had to say, he was becoming a lot more comfortable hugging Hermione. Maybe she'd just hugged him so often that he'd gotten used to it?

“Hello, Harry,” Hermione said, finally breaking the hug, but remaining in very close proximity to her friend. For his part, Harry didn't mind that a bit.

“Hi, Hermione,” he returned. “Good to see you. I missed you, even if it's only been a couple days.”

“It's good to see you too, Harry. And I've missed you, also,” Hermione said, a bashful smile on her face.

“Hello, Harry. I trust you've been well since we last spoke?”

Harry reluctantly tore his gaze away from Hermione to look at Dumbledore. He was still wary about trusting him, but figured he should at least be civil to the man (so long as he stayed true to his word.) “I have, Headmaster,” he replied evenly. Dumbledore smiled in his usual grandfatherly fashion and walked forward, which allowed Harry to see that they'd also been joined by a third visitor: Remus Lupin.

“Remus? What're you doing here?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Headmaster Dumbledore asked that I come along with him today,” Lupin replied. “As to why? I am just as clueless as you are, Harry.” With that, Harry turned to Dumbledore for an explanation.

“Not that I'm not happy to see him, sir,” Harry began once he had Dumbledore's attention, “but why did you ask Remus to come?”

“I'll get to that shortly, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “but it appears we are one person short. Do you happen to know where our resident Quidditch expert, Ronald Weasley, is? I was hoping he'd join us.”

“Mrs. Weasley called us in for lunch about an hour ago...so he's still eating, of course,” Harry said with a smirk. Hermione snickered, and Dumbledore and Lupin both smiled in amusement. “I'll go get him,” Harry finished, already heading for the kitchen.

Mere moments later, Harry returned, with Ron following close behind (and trying to covertly wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.)

“Ah, thank you for joining us, Mr. Weasley. Congratulations on being named Gryffindor's new quidditch captain, by the way,” Dumbledore said kindly.

“Thank you, sir,” Ron said, smiling proudly. “Guess I have Harry to thank for that, though.”

“Perhaps that is true,” Dumbledore began, “but let us not forget that Mr. Potter was not the only one who made a very selfless decision that day. Harry showed great maturity in declining the position for the reasons that he did. But you also showed great maturity in volunteering to relinquish your status as prefect so Professor McGonagall could give it to Harry, her original choice.”

“Thanks, sir,” Ron said. “Harry deserved it anyway. He'll be loads better at that prefect stuff than I was.”

“Personally, I believe both of you will excel in your new positions, though I suppose only time will tell,” Dumbledore opined. “Well, now that we are all here, I suppose we should get to the purpose of this visit.”

“Good idea, Professor,” Harry agreed, as he was eager to get whatever Dumbledore's business was out of the way so he could spend some time with Hermione. “Do we need to go somewhere with a bit more privacy?”

“That won't be necessary, Harry,” Dumbledore said, waving his hand in dismissal. “We won't be discussing anything that is of a sensitive nature. I merely wished to discuss an important change at Hogwarts for the upcoming term. Let's all have a seat, shall we?”

Harry shrugged, and he and Hermione sat down next to each other on the couch. Ron claimed the chair beside the couch, and with a casual flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured two more chairs for himself and Remus.

“So, you came to talk about Hogwarts? Did you find a new DADA teacher?” Harry asked, once everyone was seated.

“I believe I have,” Dumbledore said, nodding his head. Harry leaned forward in his seat, much more attentive now, as Dumbledore continued. “I suppose I should clarify: I feel I have come up with a fine candidate for the position. However, there are certain complications that will make it difficult for him to accept the position. That is where you come in, Harry, should you agree to help me.”

“So you're going to give it to that Slughorn bloke, now that Snape is going to keep teaching Potions? And you want me to go with you when you talk to him, like we were going to do before?” Harry reasoned. To his surprise, though, Dumbledore shook his head.

“No, Harry, I will not be offering the position to Horace. His expertise lies in the art of potions, hence why I had been planning to offer him that post originally. Convincing him to become the Defence instructor might have eased my concern about Horace's safety, but the quality of the course itself would have suffered. And, as you and Ms. Granger pointed out to me recently, an adequate Defence instructor is of the utmost importance, especially in these dark times. Thus, I thought long and hard on the matter, and I do believe you will be satisfied with my selection.”

“Well, who is it? You make it sound like we know him,” Harry pointed out. Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

“You do indeed know him, Harry,” Dumbledore said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “His name is Remus Lupin.”

That caught everyone else in the room by complete surprise, Lupin included. “Y-you must be joking, Albus,” Lupin said uncertainly.

“Joking? Certainly not, Remus! Both Harry and Hermione recently commented on how much they learned during your previous stint as our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. And if I remember correctly, that was a sentiment that was almost universal among your students—well, those outside of Slytherin House, at least. You did an excellent job last time, and I see no reason why you wouldn't be able to do so once again.”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione beat him to the punch. “E-excuse me, Headmaster, but what about the supposed “curse” on the DADA post? I still say it's rubbish, of course, but...”

“And I say we find out if you're right,” Dumbledore interrupted, smiling at her cheerfully. “We should not let Voldemort dictate the quality of education offered at Hogwarts. I believe Remus Lupin is the best man—or wolf, I suppose—for the job, so I will do whatever possible to ensure he gets it. Let us put this “hex” of Tom's to the test. If Remus is willing to accept, that is.”

With that having been settled, Harry, Ron and Hermione looked back and forth between the two adults, as well as at each other. All three were in agreement here: they fervently hoped that Lupin would accept. They had all respected Lupin during his time as their professor, and the idea of him returning to that position was a pleasant one indeed.

Lupin, on the other hand, still was not convinced. He looked at Dumbledore as if he were overlooking something very obvious, and very important. “I would be willing to accept, Albus,” Lupin began quietly, “but surely you realise that it's just not possible? I had to leave two years ago because word had spread about my...condition. The outrage from parents would be every bit as strong now as it was then. It might be stronger, even, thanks to the war. While I would like nothing more than to return to Hogwarts and start teaching again, there's no way the wizarding world at large will allow that to happen.”

That soured Harry's mood a great deal, and he could tell Ron and Hermione were also very disappointed. Lupin had been an excellent teacher; Harry would have loved to see him return to Hogwarts. 'So much for that', he thought to himself. After seeing the glum expressions on his friends' faces, Harry glanced at Dumbledore, expecting to see the respected Headmaster look either chagrined at his failure to see a rather obvious flaw in his plan, or disappointed that he'd have to come up with yet another candidate for the job. To his surprise, though, Dumbledore looked as cheery as before. His eyes were twinkling merrily, and he had a pleased smile on his face. Harry continued to stare at the man, and wondered if he'd simply gone senile.

“You're right, Remus; convincing parents to allow their children to be taught by a werewolf would not be an easy task in most circumstances. In most cases, it would likely be an impossible one. Fortunately for us, though, we have something on our side that I believe will prove invaluable to us in this instance: public approval.”

“Public approval? What do you mean?” Hermione asked. “The public doesn't approve of werewolves at all; they fear them.”

“Quite correct, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore agreed, “but that was not the manner of public approval I was referring to. I was actually referring to the enormous surge in popularity and support that both Harry and I are currently receiving.”

This was news to Harry. “What're you talking about? Everybody's been calling me a nutter for the last year,” he pointed out.

“I take it you haven't been reading The Daily Prophet recently?” Dumbledore asked. Harry shook his head no; of course he didn't read that rubbish. “I didn't think so. I don't blame you, either, given all the things they wrote about you in the aftermath of Voldemort's return. I don't care for it much myself, but I believe we will be able to use the Prophet, and its current attitude towards us, to our benefit on this matter. Ms. Granger, you subscribe to the Prophet, do you not?”

“Yes, Headmaster, I do,” Hermione confirmed. “I disagree with many of the things that they write, but I feel it is important to keep up with what they're saying. After all, most British wizards depend on the Prophet as their primary news source.”

“I think that is a very wise idea, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore said. “Now, have you been reading the Prophet since returning from Hogwarts at the end of last term? Have you read all of their comments about Harry and myself since Minister Fudge finally acknowledged that Voldemort has returned?”

“Yes, I have. They've been very kind towards you both. They talk about how courageous you two were to stand firm and continue to tell the truth, despite all of the criticism you received for doing so.”

“That's a laugh,” Harry said with a snort. “They were the ones who did most of the criticising. But now, after months of calling me a liar, all of a sudden I'm some kind of hero again? What rubbish.”

“I understand your frustration, Harry, but I truly do believe that this fickle attitude displayed by both the Prophet and the Ministry itself will work in our favour,” Dumbledore insisted. “It will help us return dear Remus to the post he never should have lost two years ago.”

“How so?” Harry inquired. “Just because they like you and me again—for the moment, anyway—doesn't mean they'll be any more accepting of a werewolf as a teacher.”

“They might not like the idea, that is true,” Dumbledore conceded, “but they will like the people championing the idea. Your popularity, and mine, are both as high as they've been since Voldemort was defeated for the first time. Not only do people now see that we were telling the truth all along, they also feel profoundly guilty for their poor treatment of us over the past year. If the revered Headmaster and arguable leader of the war effort against Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore, and the Boy-Who-Lived and rumoured 'Chosen One', Harry Potter, both put their full public support behind him, how could anyone object to Professor Lupin's appointment?”

“You really think that would work?” Harry asked, sceptical. It was hard for him to believe that his opinion could now hold that much sway publicly, after that same public had spent over a year running his name through the mud.

“I think he's right, Harry,” Hermione chimed in. “Now that everyone knows the truth about Voldemort, you and Professor Dumbledore are more popular and more respected than ever. I think the two of you working together would be able to silence any fears or complaints parents might have about Professor Lupin. You won't be able to convince them to accept werewolves in general, nor should you attempt to. All you need to do is get them to believe that this particular werewolf, Remus Lupin, is trustworthy. As long as they believe that their children will not be in any danger with Professor Lupin in the castle, they won't fight his appointment too hard. And if both you and the Headmaster declare your trust in him publicly, they'll be forced to give Professor Lupin a chance.”

“What about the Slytherin parents, though?” Harry countered. “Most of those lot have hated me from the beginning, and they don't like Dumbledore all that much either. And they also seem to hold a lot of the important positions of power in our government, from what I can see. Wouldn't they fight it? Not to mention Fudge.”

“Last year at this time, you would have been correct, Harry,” Dumbldore said. “But at the moment, I believe those who would ordinarily have opposed us bitterly will be very wary of doing so. They realise how high our popularity is at the moment, and know that standing in direct opposition of us would be a very risky move at present. Given our respective roles in the war against Voldemort, any stand against us, however small, could make others suspicious of whomever was raising the complaint. And as for Minister Fudge—his time as Minister could very well be drawing to a close. Many people have been calling for his head, figuratively speaking, since the truth about Voldemort came out. With all the pressure currently on him, opposing us would be a suicidal political move.”

Harry had to admit it: Dumbledore was making a convincing argument. If the public's perception of the two of them was really as favourable as Dumbledore and Hermione both insisted it was, they might very well be able to get Remus his job back. “So what do we need to do to make this happen?” he asked.

Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair, eager to explain the particulars of his plan to Harry. “I was thinking we could contact the Prophet and ask them to put a story in the paper for us. I'm sure they will leap at the opportunity, as quotes directly from us would be a huge seller at the moment, regardless of the topic. In this article, we will declare my desire to bring Remus Lupin back to Hogwarts as the DADA professor. We will assure them that he will have an ample supply of wolfsbane potion on hand at all times, and also that we will take measures to ensure that he will be separated from all students during the full moon.” Dumbledore paused briefly to make sure everyone present was following along before getting into arguably the most important part of his plan.

“Once those assurances are out of the way, we will go into great detail about all of the positive traits that make him such a fine teacher. I will speak glowingly of his time as a student at Hogwarts, including his close friendship with none other than James Potter. I will also mention how big a help he was to our side during the first war against Voldemort, and that I would put my life in his hands if necessary. Then, you could voice your own support of the idea, and give your reasons for wanting to see Lupin return. You could repeat what you told me in our recent chat at Hogwarts, about him being the best DADA professor you've had. If you were willing, you could also mention how he taught you the patronus charm, and how vital it proved later in the year when dealing with the Dementors.

“In addition to whatever you wanted to say, we could also include comments from some of his other former students, including Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger here, among others. Professor Lupin was quite popular among most non-Slytherin students, so I wouldn't imagine it would be very difficult to get positive statements from a variety of diverse sources. If we put all of this together and get the Prophet to publish it, I sincerely believe that we will be able to bring Professor Lupin back this term, with very little trouble.”

“That's bloody brilliant,” Ron exclaimed. “Harry, your fame will finally help you for a change, instead of just giving you problems!”

“That is one way of looking at it, yes, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “The question is, are you willing to do this, Harry? I know how much you dislike the attention you receive, and I will completely understand if you wish to stay out of this. I will get the Prophet to publish the article with my name attached regardless. My name alone may be enough these days, but I believe that both of our names combined would make success almost certain.”

Harry mulled over what Dumbledore had said. Dumbledore had been correct in saying that Harry disliked all the attention he'd gotten since entering the wizarding world nearly six years earlier. Frankly, he loathed it. But the way he saw it, the attention would be there regardless of what he did. So, if it was going to be there anyway, why not use it to ensure they actually had a quality DADA professor?

“As long as Remus really does want the job back, I'll do it, Headmaster,” Harry said. “I'm OK with using my fame if it means we can actually have a decent teacher again.” Harry, along with everyone else in the room, looked to see how Remus was taking all of this. To Harry's eyes, the old werewolf looked overwhelmed.

“Thank you, Harry. And you as well, Albus. It means a lot that you would go out of your way to help me like that,” Remus said, sincere gratitude in his voice as he smiled at Harry.

“It's not just for you, Remus,” Harry said. “You being our teacher again will help all of us out, too. And, besides...I'd like to be able to take you up on your offer.”

“Offer? What offer?” Remus asked, cocking his head at the son of one of his best friends.

“Your offer to come and talk about...Sirius. Sirius, and other things. It'd be nice to know you're there to talk to, or to ask for help or advice if I need it.”

Lupin gave Harry a heartfelt smile. “Ah, yes. I would like that very much, Harry,” he said, a slight catch in his voice. “I hope that you two aren't opposed to my returning to the castle?” he asked of Ron and Hermione. They both shook their heads adamantly, causing him to smile before returning his attention to Dumbledore. “Very well, Albus. If you can manage it, I would be happy to return to Hogwarts this term.”

Dumbledore smiled and clapped his hands. “That is most excellent, Remus. Now that that is settled, I suggest we get started on our correspondence for the Prophet. Start of term is rapidly approaching, and I have a few other changes I hope to implement between now and then, so time is of the essence. Let us begin with...”

Harry shared a quick smile with Hermione as Dumbledore began putting his plans into motion. He'd clearly taken their complaints seriously, and now had worked out a way to provide a quality DADA professor once again. It appeared that their confrontation with the Headmaster was already changing things for the better at Hogwarts.

--NMM--

Severus Snape threw the morning edition of The Daily Prophet into the fire, snarling as he watched it burn. It had been years since the Potions Master had been this angry—and that was saying something indeed.

How dare Dumbledore give the Defence job to that filthy werewolf, Lupin, again? And after the old man had looked him right in the eyes and promised him that this year, finally, he was going to get the job himself! He'd coveted that job for years. Far better to drill a healthy respect for the danger (and power) of the Dark Arts into the students' heads, as opposed to wasting his time teaching Potions to a bunch of clueless dunderheads who didn't possess the slightest aptitude for the art. Finally, he'd be doing something worthwhile!

But all that had changed just hours earlier, when Dumbledore walked into his office, all smiles and cheerfulness, and told him that “plans had changed.” He said that, after “careful deliberation”, he'd decided to offer the job to Lupin instead. When Snape forcefully reminded the Headmaster about the public outcry that would surely result if he tried to bring back someone with Lupin's...condition, the old bastard had just looked at him with those damn twinkling eyes and said that that little issue would be “taken care of.”

And now, Snape had seen why Dumbledore was so confident that he would be successful, despite the public being aware that Lupin was a werewolf. It had been a very sneaky move, capitalizing on his renewed popularity in the wake of the public learning and accepting the truth about the Dark Lord's return. Snape had no doubt that the easily-manipulated public would go along with whatever their beloved Headmaster wished at the moment. Especially since Potter's name had been attached to the article as well.

That infuriated Snape more than any other aspect of this betrayal. He was positive that, despite what Dumbledore had said about the move being made “for the greater good of Hogwarts”, it had been Potter's doing. Dumbledore must've told that arrogant brat about his plan to make him the DADA teacher. And Potter, being the self-absorbed, attention-craving wretch that he was, used his status as the 'Chosen One' to manipulate Dumbledore into giving the job to his father's beast of a friend. Together, the two of them had then hatched their little plot to appeal to the weak-minded public, and the deed was done.

After all the years he'd spent doing Dumbledore's bidding, to be denied a job he deserved because of that blasted Potter! The sheer insult of it all! That brat was his father's son, to be certain. Snape had already despised Potter, but this scheme of his had only strengthened his loathing of the boy. And as for Albus—he would never forgive the man for going back on his word.

Snape wasn't sure what his next move would be. At this point, after Dumbledore's betrayal and Potter's meddling, he wasn't even sure where his loyalties lay. But he knew this: Dumbledore would hear just what he thought of this decision. And Potter? If he saw an opportunity to gain some measure of revenge on that arrogant brat, he would seize it to its fullest.

--NMM--

A/N: I've mentioned this to a few people in review responses, but I'm going to repeat it here just so we're clear: there won't be any horcruxes in this story. I never liked that concept, which was one of the reasons I chose to start this story where I did. The horcrux plot device hadn't been introduced by the end of OOTP, so I felt like I could go in a different direction.

-->

8. 8. Back to School

A/N: At last, I have a beta! A big thank you to Orieon for helping me polish this chapter, as well as offering a critique of all the previous chapters, which led to some minor alterations here and there.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 8: Back to School

“Oh, hello Harry.”

“Hello, Luna,” Harry said with a smile. “Mind if Hermione and I share this compartment with you?”

“Go right ahead,” she answered serenely, and the two Gryffindors stepped into the Ravenclaw's compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Luna smiled at Hermione, but appeared confused once she realised no one else was behind her. “Where is Ronald? You usually arrive with him,” she observed.

“Oh, he's running late, as usual,” Hermione said with a smirk. “Thankfully, I was actually able to convince Harry to pack ahead of time, so he was ready to go for a change. Since Harry and I are prefects, we didn't want to risk running late. So, Ron's brother Bill and his fiancÃ© Fleur brought us here ahead of everyone else. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be bringing Ron and Ginny once they're ready."

"I see," Luna commented thoughtfully. "I'm sure you're happy that your studious habits are rubbing off on Harry at last, Hermione."

Hermione nodded triumphantly at Harry before responding to Luna. “Yes, of course. I just wish I'd gotten through to him a bit earlier. It pains me to think of all the time he's wasted over the years,” she said, and punctuated her statement with a theatrical sigh.

Harry chuckled at her. “Yeah, it was about time I picked something up from you, I guess. I am a prefect now, after all. And speaking of that, we might as well head to the prefect's carriage for the meeting.”

“Yes, we probably should. I know you're very eager to see Malfoy again,” Hermione teased, causing Harry to shoot her a playful glare. “Luna, would you mind if we left our things here while we're out?”

“Certainly not,” Luna said, looking back down at her (upside-down) copy of The Quibbler as Harry and Hermione stepped back out into the corridor and shut the compartment door behind them.

“Good thing she agreed to that,” Harry remarked, as they began walking to their destination. “You lug around enough books as it is, but with those additional books Dumbledore let you borrow, you'd probably throw your back out.”

“Very funny, Harry,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “But honestly, I think it was very kind of the Headmaster to let us borrow those books from his private collection. I've already learned many useful things from them, and once we have some time, I'd like to show some of them to you.”

“Can't wait,” Harry teased, before giving her a genuine smile. “Seriously though, if there's anything in any of those that you think are worth teaching me about, I'm open to it. I trust your judgement.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said. As she smiled at him, Harry couldn't help but notice that she had quite a pretty smile. The buckteeth she'd had in her younger years were long gone, replaced by a perfect set of teeth that would look right at home in a framed picture inside of a dentist's office.

Harry's pleasant thoughts were rudely interrupted once they arrived at the prefect's carriage, or more to the point, when he saw that his 6th year Slytherin counterpart had already arrived.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Draco Malfoy asked with a disdainful sneer. “What, did you steal Weasel's badge? Or maybe you bought it from him, so he could actually afford all of his books?”

“Oh, shove off, Malfoy,” Harry bit back. “Unlike you, I don't go throwing my money around so I can have things I don't deserve.” Harry watched as Draco's pale skin flushed with anger, and it gave him a sense of satisfaction. He ignored Hermione's tug at his sleeve and took his taunting a step further. “Honestly, if your daddy hadn't bought the whole team brooms, I don't think Slytherin would've let you anywhere near the quidditch pitch. And I bet poor Mr. Malfoy regrets wasting his money like that now. Maybe he could have used it to bribe his way out of Azkaban.”

If Harry and Draco had one thing in common, it was that they would not stand for anyone insulting either of their parents. Harry watched as Draco's face twisted into a furious grimace, and knew without looking down that the Slytherin was reaching for his wand. But by the time Draco got his wand out of its holder, both Harry and Hermione had their own wands out and trained on him.

“Don't even think about it, Draco,” Hermione commanded, staring at him with calm determination. “You either, Harry. You two are prefects; you need to be setting an example for the other students, not picking fights like a couple of children.”

Harry felt properly chastised by Hermione's words, but predictably, they had no such effect on Draco. “Don't you dare lecture me, you filthy Mudblood!” he snarled. Harry's eyes narrowed, but Hermione latched onto his arm with her free hand, preventing him from retaliating. Seeing that, Draco smirked at him. “Good thing the Mudblood was here to hold you back, Potter, or I would have made you pay for what you did to my father. But I guess I'll just leave it to him to deal with you himself, once he gets out of Azkaban.”

“He's welcome to try,” Harry said. “Didn't work out too well for him last time, though.”

At that point, the three 6th years were joined in the compartment by the new Head Girl: Harry's quidditch team mate, Katie Bell. Katie took one look at the three 6th years, all with their wands drawn, and her eyes narrowed.

“What's going on here?” she demanded. “Why are you pointing your wands at each other?”

“Don't take that tone with me, Bell,” Draco said indignantly. “Potter deliberately provoked me. All I did was stand up to defend the honour of my father, as anyone would do. Well, perhaps Potter wouldn't, seeing as he doesn't have a father--”

Forgetting his wand altogether, Harry tried to lunge towards the Slytherin. Hermione held him back, though, while Katie kept an eye on Draco, ensuring he wasn't about to try anything.

“That's enough, Malfoy,” Katie said, clearly irritated with the boy. “You don't have Umbridge or her 'Inquisitorial Squad' rubbish to protect you anymore, so if you try to abuse your position like you did last year, I will report it to the Headmaster.”

“Ooh, I'm shaking Bell!” Draco said in a mocking tone. “As if I'm going to listen to a stupid Gryffindor like you.”

“Oh, just shut up and wait for the meeting to start, you git,” Katie snapped, her patience gone. Harry smirked as Draco flinched slightly, but the arrogant blonde quickly recovered.

“I'm not going to waste my time with you imbeciles,” Draco scoffed. “I only stopped by to tell you not to bother giving me any patrol times. I'm not going to spend one minute watching over a bunch of Mudbloods and blood traitors, so save yourself the effort.”

Harry's blood continued to boil at Malfoy's casual use of the bigoted term 'Mudblood', but he kept himself in check. He knew that Hermione would not approve of him escalating the situation, so he settled for showing his hatred towards Malfoy with as fierce a glare as he could manage. He continued glaring as the arrogant Slytherin strolled right out of the compartment, deliberately bumping Harry none-too-gently with his shoulder as he departed.

“What a tosser,” Kattie muttered. “I don't know how he gets away with the things that he does. And he made prefect, even!”

“I guess that's what happens when your father bribes every bloody person he possibly can,” Harry mused. “Not to mention, he has Snape as his Head of House, and that greasy bastard lets him do whatever he wants.”

“Not that I disagree,” Hermione interrupted, “but do you think we could change the subject? As long as we're here early, why don't you fill Harry in on what you and the Head Boy will expect from him as a prefect?”

Nodding her agreement, Katie began bringing Gryffindor's new prefect up to speed on his responsibilities.

--NMM--

Once the meeting had been completed and all questions had been answered, Harry and Hermione emerged from the prefects' carriage along with their fellow prefects. They briefly chatted about the subjects that had been discussed during the meeting, but Harry knew Hermione too well to think he'd heard the last of his confrontation with Draco. Sure enough, as soon as they were out of earshot of the other prefects, Hermione abruptly changed the subject.

“I really wish you wouldn't go at Malfoy like that,” she said quietly. “If you're going to take your prefect duties seriously, you need to set a better example.” Harry kept his eyes focused straight ahead, not wanting to see the disappointed look he was sure was on her face. The reproach in her voice was bad enough.

“I do take this prefect stuff seriously,” Harry insisted. “It's just...he's such a git!”

“I never said he wasn't,” Hermione replied, “but you can't let him get to you. He's just a spoiled little brat. Be the bigger person, and don't react to his nonsense. You have more important things to worry about, anyway.”

“I know,” Harry acknowledged. “I'll try my best. But any time he calls you a Mud...well, you know...while I'm around, you might wanna keep an eye on me, because I'll probably want to punch his face in.

“I know,” Hermione sighed, “and thank you for wanting to stick up for me. But I can take care of myself.” In spite of these words, Hermione wore a slight smile on her face as she walked. Harry did not see it, as he was still not looking at her. Even if he had, he wouldn't have had any idea what it meant.

The two friends walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way, until they arrived back at Luna's compartment. Upon opening the door, they saw that Luna had since been joined by Ron and Neville. Conspicuous by her absence was the other member of their ill-fated trip to the Department of Mysteries, Ginny.

“Hullo, you lot,” Harry greeted. “Where's Ginny?”

“She's off in another compartment with Dean,” Ron said, grimacing as sourly as if he'd just witnessed another Chudley Cannons defeat. “I swear, if that git tries anything...”

“Oh, hush, Ronald,” Luna said. “Ginny won't let him do anything she's not comfortable with.”

“It's not just him I'm worried about,” Ron grumbled. Ignoring him, Luna turned her head to look at Harry as he took his seat.

“Harry, Ronald told us that you and Hermione confronted Headmaster Dumbledore over the summer, and that Professor Lupin's return is your doing. Is this true?”

“Well...kind of,” Harry said. “We didn't demand that Dumbledore hire Lupin specifically, but we did let him know that if Hogwarts couldn't provide a decent Defence professor for a change, we might transfer to some other school.”

“Really? You threatened to leave Hogwarts?” Neville asked, startled. “Blimey! That took guts, Harry, standing up to Dumbledore like that! I don't think I could pull that off.”

“Dumbledore might be a powerful wizard, but he's human. He makes mistakes like everybody else,” Harry said. “And when we heard who he wanted to give the job to this year, we knew we had to do something.”

“Who'd he want to give it to?” Neville asked curiously.

“Snape,” Ron spat, answering for Harry. Neville's eyes widened at that, and even Luna looked surprised.

“Snape?” Neville repeated in disbelief. “Bloody hell! Thanks for standing up to him, you two. Snape teaching Defence would've been awful!”

“I quite agree,” Hermione said, nodding. “Considering that most students outside of Slytherin don't think he's very good in his current role, I found it puzzling that the Headmaster would want to give him an even more important one. And he was actually hoping that Harry would help him set things into motion by going with him to recruit a replacement to teach Potions! I know he thinks highly of Professor Snape, but honestly, you'd think he would see that the man is simply no good as a teacher.”

“Perhaps the grease-filled slipperdunks that make their home in Snape's hair have clouded the Headmaster's judgement,” Luna offered. Harry turned his head quickly, not wanting to miss Hermione's reaction. He was not disappointed.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, as Luna's statement had left her too astonished to speak. As was usually the case, Hermione had no clue how to respond to Luna's seemingly outlandish statements. For his part, Harry found it incredibly amusing to see Hermione Granger, the girl who almost always had an answer for everything, struck speechless.

“Err...yeah, maybe that's it,” Neville said hesitantly, breaking the brief silence that had overtaken the group.

“Yeah, you have to watch out for those slipperdunks,” Harry agreed, smiling widely at Hermione as he spoke. She looked right back at him and rolled her eyes, though the slight grin threatening to break through suggested that she found some humour in the situation, too.

“Yes, I quite agree, Harry,” Luna said, either oblivious to Harry and Hermione's interaction, or choosing to ignore it. “If you aren't aware of their presence, they can trick you into making some very poor decisions.”

“Sounds like they've been screwing Dumbledore up for years, then,” Harry said automatically. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn't acknowledge her. He'd agreed to give Dumbledore another chance, but that didn't mean he would easily forgive or forget what the man had done in the past.

Ron and Hermione already knew all about Harry's problems with Dumbledore, but Neville and Luna did not. Harry glanced back and forth between the two, trying to gauge their reaction to what he'd just blurted out. Luna hadn't outwardly reacted to his words, but that was nothing new. Neville, on the other hand, seemed taken aback. He was staring at Harry through narrowed eyes, and Harry was sure he was about to ask for an explanation.

Sure enough, Neville was the first to speak. “What're you talking about, Harry? What's Dumbledore done wrong?”

Harry didn't immediately reply. He liked Neville a great deal. After the events of the past year, he certainly felt much closer to Neville, Ginny and Luna. But how much faith was he willing to place in them? Could he confide in them to the same degree that he had Hermione, and later Ron? Could he tell them about his mistrust of Dumbledore, or of the contents of the prophecy?

Eventually, Harry settled for a simple, “It's complicated.” His flat tone made it clear that he didn't want to discuss it any further, and Neville slowly nodded in understanding.

“OK, Harry,” Neville said, looking him straight in the eyes. “If you don't want to talk about it, I'm sure you have your reasons. But just so you know, if you ever need help with anything, or even just someone to talk to, you can come to me. You can trust me, Harry. I won't rat you out or anything.”

“The same is true for me,” Luna offered. “I'll be happy to help you in any way I can, Harry. I don't have many friends, so it would be quite a shame if something happened to you.”

Harry was silent for a moment, absorbing what his two newest friends has said. Neville's offer had been all eagerness and enthusiasm, while Luna's had been blunt and awkward. But both of them had been sincere. He had no doubts about that.

“Thanks, you two,” Harry said. “Maybe I'll feel more comfortable sharing these things with you later. It's just...it usually takes a while for me to trust someone, and I've only just started hanging around with you guys, and...”

“I get it, Harry,” Neville said, interrupting his rambling. “I know what you mean. Just know that we'll be there for you whenever you're ready.”

Harry nodded, showing his appreciation, and the five friends moved on to other subjects.

--NMM--

The rest of the trip went by without incident. They thankfully did not encounter Malfoy again, either on the train or while riding in the carriages pulled by the Thestrals. Since they did not have to deal with any arrogant ferrets, Harry's group was able to chat pleasantly all the way until they arrived in the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. It was at that point that Ron's good mood evaporated, as he saw Ginny sitting very close to Dean at the Gryffindor table, his arm around her shoulders.

“Oi! Keep your hands to yourself, Thomas!” Ron growled. Dean made as if to comply, but Ginny grasped his arm and kept it right where it was.

“Shove off, Ron,” she said heatedly. “His arm is around my shoulders—it's not as if he's copping a feel.” Ron's face threatened to turn green at that particular mental image, but Ginny kept going. “Dean is my boyfriend, and he's not going to stay away from me just because you're uncomfortable. I'm not a little girl, Ron. You'd better get used to it.”

Ron scowled at his sister, but Ginny's reprimand had effectively silenced him. Harry and Hermione shared an amused glance as they sat down beside Ron further down the table, finding humour in his discomfort.

“They grow up so fast, don't they, Ron?” Harry teased, grinning at Ron as the redhead glared at him.

“Sod off, Harry,” Ron grumbled, none too happy that his best mate had decided to take that opportunity to poke fun at him.

“He's right, though, Ron,” Hermione added seriously. “Ginny is growing up, whether you like it or not. If you try to treat her like a child or interfere in her relationships, it'll only make things worse.”

“So, what, I should just sit back and do nothing? What if that git tries something with her?” Ron asked, glaring at Hermione in defiance.

“If Ginny ever truly needs your help, I'm sure she'll ask for it,” Hermione calmly replied. “But in the meantime, I suggest you let her live her life. If Dean gives her any sort of trouble, Ginny is quite capable of handling herself.”

Ron still didn't look very happy, but he was prevented from responding as the Sorting began. The three friends watched in relative silence as the incoming first year students nervously approached the Sorting Hat, and they applauded whenever one of the newcomers was Sorted into Gryffindor. As he watched one student after another sit upon the stool and receive the Sorting Hat's judgement, Harry couldn't help but think back to his own Sorting, which felt like a lifetime ago after everything he'd been through in the past five years. He wondered if any of the students being sorted on this day would have to argue with the hat, as he'd had to. The hat was supposedly never wrong, but Harry doubted very seriously that he'd have done well in Slytherin. Sharing a dorm with Draco bloody Malfoy did not sound appealing in the least.

Once the last student had been Sorted, Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his seat and smiled patiently as all chatter gradually died down. Once things were quiet, the revered wizard began giving his customary welcome speech.

“Hello students, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I trust that you all have had a nice summer—that is to say, as nice a summer as could be had under the present circumstances. Hopefully, you've been able to enjoy yourselves during the past months. But now that you've returned to Hogwarts, it is time for us to acknowledge what lies before us, and prepare for it as best we can.

“As we are all well aware, Tom Riddle, a former student of this very school who later adopted the name 'Lord Voldemort', returned to power over one year ago, at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. Our own Harry Potter witnessed this first-hand. He saw Voldemort's followers--those who refer to themselves as 'Death Eaters'--return to do their master's bidding once more. He watched as Cedric Diggory was thoughtlessly murdered, merely because he happened to be there.

“When Harry returned to Hogwarts that night, he told me exactly what had taken place, what he'd seen. I soon received other compelling evidence that confirmed Harry's story, but even if I'd had nothing to go on but his word, I would have believed him, as I hold him in the highest regard. When he described to me exactly what he'd seen, there was not a doubt in my mind that Harry was telling the truth: Voldemort had returned.”

Harry looked around, taking note that many of his fellow students looked pale and sickly, no doubt horrified by the mere thought of Voldemort truly being back. The notable exception was, predictably, the Slytherin table. While some of the students were unreadable, others seemed to be fighting not to smile. Draco was far bolder: he was smirking openly, and when he noticed Harry's scrutiny, his smirk grew more pronounced and he made a slashing gesture across his throat. Harry scowled at his long-time nemesis and turned away, returning his attention to the Headmaster.

“Unfortunately, certain influential members of our society chose not to believe Harry. They refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, because they were unable or unwilling to deal with what that would mean for our society. And so, instead of doing their best to prepare magical Britain for the danger that was closing in, they sought to discredit both Harry, and the unfortunate news he delivered to us. And, since I steadfastly supported Harry's claims, they labelled me a senile old fool who was no longer fit to run this school. In an effort to watch over both Harry and myself, Minister Fudge appointed Dolores Umbridge to last year's teaching staff, without my consent.”

Unsurprisingly, there were loud, angry mutterings from many of the students at the mention of Cornelius Fudge's Senior Undersecretary. Aside from those that joined her infamous Inquisitorial Squad, Umbridge had angered nearly every student in Hogwarts with her tyrannical behaviour.

Harry grimaced as he thought back on his own run-ins with Fudge's filthy toad. He glanced at the back of his hand, which still carried a faint scar thanks to Umbridge and her blood quill. Hermione noticed and patted Harry's hand in sympathy, lightly running her fingers across his scarred flesh, and Harry smiled at her in response. Before he had much time to reflect on how comfortable he was becoming with Hermione's affectionate touches, Dumbledore continued.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded knowingly at the negative reaction Umbridge's name had generated. “Ah, I see that many of you were not overly fond of Madam Umbridge's methods. It should please you then to know that she will have no involvement with Hogwarts this term, or ever again. But that is not the only change that will be made at Hogwarts. As you all know, Lord Voldemort was spotted in the Ministry of Magic building near the end of last term. After this sighting, not even Minister Fudge could deny the truth any longer. He, and all others who had supported his viewpoint, was forced to acknowledge that Harry had been telling the truth all along. Nearly a year after it had happened, Voldemort's return was finally an accepted fact within our society.”

Harry was aware of several students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and even some from his own table, casting brief, guilty glances in his direction. No doubt they were thinking back to their own actions during the previous school year, when quite a few of them had bought into the propaganda of the Ministry and the Daily Prophet. One student who seemed particularly remorseful was Harry's own dorm mate, Seamus Finnigan, who had initially gone along with his mother in doubting Harry's claims. Seamus, his face red with shame, looked at Harry apologetically, but Harry just smiled and waved it off. Seamus had long since apologized, and besides, Harry had far more important things to worry about than a simple argument with a classmate.

“I understand that this isn't news you ever wished to hear,” Dumbledore continued, “but it is the truth. And the good news is, now that Voldemort's return has been taken as fact, we will be free to focus on preparing ourselves. Now that they've seen that Harry and I were telling the truth all along, the Ministry has given me the authority to once again run Hogwarts as I see fit, free from their meddling. This, of course, means that any and all 'Educational Decrees' made by Madam Umbridge are henceforth abolished. But that is only one change of many this term. Now that Voldemort's return is out in the open, I feel it is imperative that the faculty do everything we possibly can to prepare you for what is out there. Voldemort and his Death Eaters will not distinguish between trained aurors and schoolchildren. In Voldemort's mind, if you are not a so-called pureblood wizard who shares his own prejudiced views, you are a target. Thus, it is essential for every student in these halls to learn how to defend themselves. With my authority as Headmaster restored in full, I have instituted some changes for this upcoming term, all designed to make sure you will be better prepared should you find yourselves in grave danger. The first of these changes, which most of you are already well aware of, is the return of the good Remus Lupin as our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Professor Lupin, if you would please rise.”

Lupin rose from his seat at the staff table, and quickly received an enthusiastic round of applause from three of the four House tables, with Slytherin being the obvious exception. Those students fourth year and above, who'd been taught by Lupin three years earlier, were especially exuberant in their applause. Lupin smiled broadly, clearly touched that so many students were happy to see him return. Harry clapped harder than anyone in the room, and when Lupin looked his way, he grinned and gave his father's old friend a thumbs up. Lupin's smile widened, and he acknowledged Harry with a slight nod.

There was at least one person that was distinctly unhappy with this announcement however: Severus Snape. When Harry happened to lock eyes with the Potions professor, he was treated to a murderous glare. Snape, with his narrowed eyes and fierce scowl, looked as if he wanted nothing more than to get up from his seat and throttle the “Boy-Who-Lived” with his bare hands. He'd obviously read the Daily Prophet article that Dumbledore had put together in support of Remus. The article, which had done much to ease the public's fears about Lupin's return to Hogwarts, had featured several direct quotes from Harry. Harry wasn't sure if Dumbledore had previously promised Snape that the job would be his, but if this death stare was any indication, he had clearly thought he would be given his desired post at last. Suppressing a shiver, and now devoutly thankful that he would no longer be taking Potions with Snape, Harry looked away in time to see Lupin sit back down, and Dumbledore stand front and centre once again.

“I am pleased to see that so many of you older students seem to have fond memories of Professor Lupin's previous stint at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore remarked with a twinkle in his eyes. “For those of you who have not had the pleasure of being instructed by Professor Lupin, let me assure you that he is very much qualified for the position. In fact, I think it would be fair to say that it has been a decade or more since any Defence teacher has done the job as well as Professor Lupin. Were it not for the unfortunate revelation about his status as a werewolf, Professor Lupin would have remained here as our Defence instructor all along.”

Harry scowled, remembering exactly who it was that had let that bit of news slip. Now that Lupin had come back and had once again been given the DADA job that Snape supposedly coveted, he wondered what, if anything, the greasy git might do to try and run him off for a second time. Based on the look Snape had given him moments earlier, Harry wouldn't put anything past the enraged Slytherin. He resolved to bring this fear up with Hermione the first chance he got.

“As I've already stated in the Daily Prophet article that I'm sure many of you have read, I am quite confident that Professor Lupin's medical issues will not pose any threat to anyone in this school,” Dumbledore said assuredly. “Here at Hogwarts, he will have ready access to the Wolfsbane Potion, which will allow him to remain in control of his actions even during the full moon. There will also be other precautions in place in order to protect you should something go wrong, though I think it best not to reveal what, precisely, those precautions are. Rest assured that Professor Lupin will pose no more danger to you than any other Hogwarts professor. I am delighted that my opinion of Mr. Lupin, as well as the opinions of some others who know him well, was enough to appease any outside concerns and ensure that he be given a second chance. I have no doubt that he will make the most of this opportunity and prove that, werewolf or not, he deserves this job.”

The same students that warmly greeted Lupin when he was first introduced did the same once again, making it clear through their loud applause that they supported his return. Harry happily joined in, feeling immensely proud that he'd been able to help make this happen.

“The return of Professor Lupin is not the only change I will be instituting,” Dumbledore went on, once the applause had died down. “While I believe he will prove to be a more than capable instructor, I have decided that in these dangerous times, additional Defence work is a very sound idea. Thus, beginning this term, Hogwarts will be offering optional “Advanced Defence” instruction. This will not be an official class as such, and there will be no formal testing. Instead, these Advanced Defence lessons will focus on teaching you how to apply the lessons you've learned; the jinxes, curses and hexes you know, in actual combat situations. Some may refer to it as a Duelling Club, though I can promise you older students it will be nothing like the farce of an exhibition put forth by Gilderoy Lockhart four years ago. These lessons will allow you to get a taste of what it is like to truly face down an opponent, though we will obviously not permit the use of anything that could inflict lasting damage. Certain restrictions and regulations will apply, but as I am sure many of you are growing quite restless, I will say no more for now. If you wish to learn more about these Advanced Defence lessons, contact your Head of House for more information.”

Harry shared surprised looks with both Hermione and Ron. Neither Dumbledore, nor Remus had said anything to them about these Advanced Defence lessons, so Harry was learning of them the same time everyone else was. Nevertheless, Harry thought it sounded like a great idea. There was no such thing as too much Defence, and if these lessons were run properly, they could help he and his fellow students prepare for any future battles with Voldemort and his cronies. Even though he and his friends had made it back from the Department of Mysteries in one piece, Harry held no illusions about what had happened. They got lucky, plain and simple; just as he'd gotten lucky in his first year, when his mother's protection prevented Quirrell from touching him, or his second year, when Fawkes had swooped in to save him in the Chamber of Secrets, or his fourth year, when his wand being a “brother” to Voldemort's had allowed him to escape from the graveyard. Sooner or later, Harry was sure his luck was bound to run out. And when it did, he wanted to be prepared.

“Now, before we enjoy another wonderful feast, I have one last announcement I would like to make,” Dumbledore said, making sure he still had everyone's attention before he continued, his voice suddenly taking on a harder edge and his face looking quite serious. “I understand that, in these times, it may be hard to decide which course of action to take. Indeed, some of you may feel that you have no choice in the direction your life is headed. But I firmly believe that there is always a choice. Regardless of what your friends, your family, or even your professors try to tell you, your life is what you make of it. As I am quite fond of saying, there may come a time when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy. When that time comes, look inside your heart, and you will know what to do.”

As Dumbledore finished his speech, he seemed to be looking squarely at Draco Malfoy. Harry watched as Draco stared straight down at his table, resolutely refusing to meet the Headmaster's gaze. Harry silently wondered whether Dumbledore actually believed that Draco could be saved, that he could be convinced not to walk down the same path as the father he so admired. As far as Harry was concerned, Draco was either a Death Eater already, or he was well on his way. Regardless of what Dumbledore thought, Harry knew he would need to watch his back around Malfoy and his friends, now more than ever.

--NMM--

Harry wasn't the only one who paid close attention to Dumbledore during the final few moments of his speech. Severus Snape watched as the old man tried to get through to Draco Malfoy, and silently snorted in derision. That boy worshipped the ground his father walked on. If he didn't already bear the mark, it was only a matter of time. Snape had said as much to Dumbledore, but the old man had refused to believe him. He still had hope that Draco could be convinced not to follow down his father's footsteps; no matter how closely he resembled a teenage Lucius Malfoy in both appearance and attitude.

Sentimental old fool. Some people are beyond saving.

--NMM--

A/N: Sorry about the longer delay. A combination of the busy holiday season, other responsibilities, and a bit of writer's block bogged me down, but I've completed this chapter at last. Hopefully most of you enjoyed it.

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9. 9. Lessons and Letters

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

A/N: I really can't thank my beta, Orieon, enough for the work he did on this chapter. The first draft of this chapter had some pretty darn OOC behaviour, but Orieon helped me take care of that pesky little issue.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 9: Lessons and Letters

Harry Potter was no stranger to unwanted attention. From the moment he was introduced to the wizarding world, he'd had to deal with strangers staring at him like he was on display in a zoo. But as he settled in on the first day of his 6th year at Hogwarts, Harry couldn't help but notice that the staring and the whispered conversations as he walked through the corridors had become more pronounced than ever. Once Minister Fudge had seen Voldemort with his own eyes, and publicly acknowledged his return, Harry's celebrity status had grown even larger than before. Now that the Daily Prophet had stopped calling him a delusional liar, and started speculating on the likelihood that he was the wizard who would vanquish He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—for the 2nd time; and, hopefully, for good—Harry had almost the entire Hogwarts student population hounding his every turn, gawking at the every move of the 'Chosen One.' Harry hated every second of it.

Fortunately for him, he wasn't the only one who hated it.

“Get moving, all of you!” Hermione demanded, startling a group of giggling girls who had blocked Harry's path. When that wasn't enough to get them out of the way, Hermione turned to threats. “If you lot don't get out of Harry's way right now, I'll start taking away house points!”

That did the trick, as the girls reluctantly went on their way, allowing the Gryffindor trio to continue on towards Professor Remus Lupin's room for the first DADA lesson of the term. Harry exhaled deeply in relief as he felt all of the tension leave his body. He shot Hermione a grateful look, and she smiled in return as they continued to walk in companionable silence. But before long, the quiet was broken by the third member of their trio.

“Looks like you've got yourself a bodyguard, Harry,” Ron teased, smirking at them both. “She'll keep all those girls off your back, this one.”

“Oh, don't be so childish, Ron,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. “They were blocking the corridor. I was just being a responsible prefect—something you certainly never did last year.”

“No, I didn't,” Ron agreed bluntly, surprising both of his friends.

“What's this?” Hermione started. “Ron Weasley admitting to a shortcoming? Careful, Ron: we might start to think that you're maturing,” she finished, grinning at Ron to make it clear that she was only teasing him.

“We don't want that,” Ron said, his eyes wide. “I have a reputation to protect! But honestly, I'm glad I don't have to deal with all of that prefect stuff anymore. Now, Harry's the one who's gonna have to do the boring stuff, while I get to focus on quidditch. Sorry, mate, but I definitely got the better end of the deal,” he finished, grinning at Harry.

“I'm glad you think so, Ron,” Harry replied, grinning right back at him. “Personally, I think I made out pretty well in our little swap.”

“Oh? How's that?” Ron challenged playfully.

“Well, let's see,” Harry started, pretending to think things over before he continued. “Katie's still on the team, sure, but Angelina and Alicia have graduated. And how many other Gryffindor girls have shown any interest in quidditch? It looks like you'll be dealing almost exclusively with blokes. Have fun with that.”

“Ginny will want to try out,” Hermione pointed out. “And I think she showed last year that she's more than good enough to make the team. Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup with her filling in for Harry after all.”

“Good point, Hermione. Ginny will try out, and I'd be surprised if she didn't make it,” Harry agreed. “But still, she doesn't really count as a girl in this case. I mean, she's Ron's sister. He can hardly think of her as being a pretty girl, can he?”

“Definitely not,” Ron said firmly, shuddering at the very thought. “But it's the same for you, innit? You'll be doing your patrols with Hermione, who's been your best friend since you were 11. You two might not be related by blood, but she's as much your sister as Ginny is mine.”

Harry thought about that for a moment before eventually shaking his head. “No, I don't think so,” he objected. “I'm not sure how I'd feel towards a sister, if I had one. But I just don't picture Hermione as my sister.”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Hermione asked, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity. Ron also looked interested in the answer, if his slightly narrowed eyes were any indication. Harry shrugged his shoulders as he tried to figure out how to put his feelings into words.

“Well, it's like we just said about Ron,” he began. “Ginny is actually becoming a pretty attractive girl,” Ron scowled in disgust at this, but Harry ignored him and continued on, “But Ron won't ever see it, because he's her brother. She could be the most beautiful witch in the world, and she'd still be his kid sister as far as Ron was concerned.”

“That's all well and good, Harry, but what does that have to do with you and me?” Hermione asked. “You've never given me a second look—which is fine, of course,” she said, stumbling over her words ever so slightly. “I mean, why would you? You've kissed Cho Chang, who is absolutely beautiful, unlike me.”

“Th-that's not—” Harry stammered, but Hermione waved him off.

“It's fine, Harry. You don't need to try and make me feel better. I'm perfectly comfortable with my physical appearance, but I'm not stupid. I know I'm rather plain compared to girls like Cho and Fleur, or even girls in our year like Lavender and Parvati. I'm fine with it, and it's nothing to get upset over,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I'm sure plenty of boys think you're pretty, Hermione,” Harry protested weakly, but she shot him a supremely sceptical look that promptly shut him up.

“Oh really, Harry? Viktor is the only boy to show a clear interest in me, and that was more because I didn't fawn all over him like every other girl. Who else has shown an interest in me? Who else thinks I'm pretty?”

Harry could not stand the casual, matter-of-fact way that Hermione spoke about her physical appearance. Maybe most of the other boys at Hogwarts really did think she looked plain—Harry honestly had no idea. All he knew was that he needed to be there for his best friend, the way she was always there for him. He couldn't let her put herself down like this.

And thus, in his desire to cheer Hermione up, Harry blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

“I think you're pretty,” Harry said, his entire body tensing up the moment his brain caught up with his mouth.

Harry watched, mortified, as Hermione blushed and stared at him, her mouth agape. Feeling his own cheeks heat up, Harry cursed his traitorous tongue. What in the name of Merlin made him say that? And in front of Ron, to boot! Speaking of which...

Harry looked at Ron, but the expression on his best mate's face was unreadable. Harry continued to stare at Ron, silently praying that his best mate would lighten the mood somehow. Maybe he could offer his own opinion of Hermione's looks? Or, failing that, maybe he could find a way to turn this whole situation into a joke? Either option would suit Harry just fine. He needed something, anything, that would take the focus off of the fact that he had just said Hermione was pretty.

As it turned out, he was about to be granted a reprieve, if not from the person he was hoping for. In fact, the lifeline was given to him by one of the last people who would ever willingly help him.

“Oh, look: it's Scarhead, the Mudblood, and Moron Weasley!” Draco Malfoy said contemptuously. “What a lovely way to start the term!”

“Looking at you isn't exactly fun for us either, ferret,” Ron retorted. He made a show of reaching down into his trouser pocket and fingering his wand, but Hermione placed a hand on his arm before he could actually pull it out.

“Ignore him, Ron. He's not worth the attention,” Hermione said. “The same goes for you,” she added, looking at Harry this time.

“Don't worry about me, Hermione,” Harry said with a careless shrug. “With Professor Lupin back, we finally have a worthwhile teacher for this class again. Not even the ferret is going to bring me down today.” In truth, he was privately grateful to the Slytherin for bailing him out of what had been a very uncomfortable situation, though he would never admit that out loud.

Without another word, Harry stepped through the door and into Professor Lupin's classroom, leaving Malfoy fuming out in the corridor. Harry smiled as soon as he saw Lupin, forgetting all about the annoying Slytherin.

“Hey, Professor! How does it feel to be back where you belong?” Harry asked. Lupin smiled in return, looking far better and more relaxed than he had in Harry's recent memory.

“It feels wonderful, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry nodded, knowing exactly what Lupin was thanking him for.

--NMM--

“That will be all for today. Next time, we will be covering the spell 'Anapneo', which could come in very handy if you're ever around someone who is deprived of air and struggling to breathe. Be sure to read up on the theory and incantation behind this spell beforehand. If you come in with at least some understanding of the spell, we will be able to spend less time on theory, and more on practising the spell itself.”

Professor Lupin turned away after a final nod, and the Gryffindor and Slytherin 6th years began filing out of his classroom. Malfoy and his cronies were out the door almost instantly, but Harry, Ron and Hermione were in no particular hurry.

“That was a good lesson, don't you think?” Hermione asked once the three of them had gathered their things and gotten up to their feet.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed, waving goodbye to Neville as he walked past them. “Even though it was only a review of things we were supposed to have been taught already, it was still better than anything Umbridge did all last year.”

“Merlin, she was terrible!” Ron exclaimed. “And if Snape had gotten the job this year, he would've been too busy insulting Harry and calling Neville an idiot to actually bother teaching us anything. It's a damn good thing you two stood up to Dumbledore like you did.”

Harry nodded in agreement and was about to add his own thoughts about Snape, but Lupin spoke up before he could do so.

“Harry, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a little chat with you. Assuming you don't have other plans, that is.”

“No, that's fine, Professor. I've got a free period, since I didn't make it into Snape's N.E.W.T.-level Potions class. I don't have anywhere else to be.”

“Very good,” Lupin replied, looking at Harry over his shoulder as he shuffled through some parchment on top of his desk. “I'll be with you in just a moment, and I won't detain you long. I'm sure you and Ron would like to take advantage of this opportunity to do all the stupid, immature things that teenage boys are prone to do.”

“Stupid? Immature? Never!” Ron said with a grin. “Actually, I'm going to go over ideas for our first quidditch practice. Try-outs are right around the corner after all.”

Harry and Remus both chuckled in amusement at Ron's statement, while Hermione rolled her eyes. “Alright, mate, you do that,” Harry said. “I'll catch up with you later.”

Ron, a faraway look in his eyes, merely nodded briefly before hurrying out of the room. Harry suspected that his best friend's focus was already squarely on all the ideas he wanted to put into effect as Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain. He'd been talking Harry's ear off about them whenever he had the chance, his excitement obvious. Ron's devotion to the task reassured Harry that he had made the right choice in declining the chance to be the captain. With all of the things on his mind, Harry wouldn't have been anywhere near as dedicated to the job as Ron clearly was.

“I guess I'd better be going as well,” Hermione said quietly. “The last thing I need is to show up late and get Professor Snape angry with me before the first lesson of the term has even begun.”

“Newsflash, Hermione: Snape is always angry,” Harry teased. “And with me, Ron and Neville all gone, you'll probably have it worse than ever.”

“All the more reason for me to be punctual,” Hermione retorted. Still, she didn't exit the room right away. She stood still for a moment more, her gaze focused on Harry. There was a...a softness in her expression that made Harry feel very ill at ease. His discomfort only grew when he thought back to the conversation they'd had on their way to the class; and, what he'd unthinkingly blurted out. Harry wasn't used to feeling so awkward around his best female friend. It sort of reminded him of the way he'd been around Cho. Unfortunately, that thought made him even more uncomfortable.

Thankfully, after a goodbye that was barely louder than a whisper, Hermione left Lupin's classroom. Though it was a close thing, Harry managed to brush past his odd feelings of discomfort and get out a goodbye of his own. Harry was reasonably certain he'd even been able to sound calm and collected as he did so. Letting out a sigh, Harry turned around to look away from the corridor and back into the room.

Remus Lupin was looking right at him, and seemed very amused for some reason.

“Why are you smiling like that, Professor? Do I have something on my face?”

“Harry, class time is over. Feel free to call me Remus. And as for the source of my amusement? Well, I suppose I could explain it to you, but I think it would be best if you figured it out for yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, now thoroughly confused.

“Trust me, Harry, you'll figure it out sooner or later,” Remus said, continuing to smirk at him. “Where's your mother's necklace by the way? I trust you're taking good care of it?”

Confused by what seemed to be an abrupt change in topic, Harry simply nodded in response. Remus' smirk only grew, confusing Harry even further.

“Ah, Harry, I'd almost forgotten what it was like dealing with teenage witches and wizards,” Remus said, visibly struggling to control his mirth. “You'll have to forgive me for my amusement. Now then, why don't we have a seat?”

Shrugging, Harry complied, pulling up a chair and sitting down across from Remus, who did likewise. “So, what did you want to talk about, Remus?”

“Just a few quick things, Harry. Firstly, since I've been so busy the last month preparing for my return to Hogwarts, we haven't had much of an opportunity to speak. I wanted to check up on how you were feeling. Specifically, how you were dealing with your grief after what happened to Sirius. You seemed to be getting better when we spoke on your birthday, but it was clearly still weighing on you. How are you feeling now?”

Harry felt a brief stab of pain at the mention of his deceased godfather, but the feeling wasn't as pronounced as it had been for most of the summer. He squared his shoulders and made eye contact with Lupin, who looked very sympathetic. “I'm getting better,” Harry eventually answered. “I won't lie and say that it doesn't still hurt a bit when I think about him, but I think that's pretty normal. I still feel a little guilty that he died trying to help me, but I've gotten past the point of blaming myself.”

“That's very good to hear, Harry,” Lupin said quietly. “You're right, it is perfectly normal to feel hurt or upset when you think about him. I am feeling much the same way, and returning to Hogwarts has only amplified my feelings. Walking down these corridors, eating meals in the Great Hall, watching students go about their lives...it has all brought back many memories. It is very difficult for me to think about Sirius, and what happened to him. Not just the fact that he was killed, but also that he spent so many years in Azkaban. So many years wasted. So many years that he and I could have shared as friends. So many years that he could have spent watching over you, taking care of you, just as he swore he would to James and Lily were anything to happen to them.”

“I think about that, too,” Harry said, shutting his eyes as he shared in Lupin's pain. “I think about how different my life might have been if he hadn't been thrown in Azkaban. I could've had my whole life to get to know him, but all I got was a couple of years. And not even that, really, because he spent most of his time on the run. Now, I'll never get to know him.”

“A great number of things were unfair and unjust when it came to Sirius' life. That's something you two certainly have in common,” Remus mused. “And the circumstances of Sirius' adult life only make the loss that much harder to bear. But I promise you this, Harry: eventually, you will be able to look back fondly on that all-too-brief time you shared with Sirius. It won't happen overnight; indeed, it may take months or even years for you to reach that point. I know it took me quite some time to be able to think of James or Lily without feeling weighed down by sorrow and grief. But now, I am able to relive my memories of them, and think about all the good times we shared. Eventually, I will reach that same point in regards to Sirius: as will you.”

“I can't wait,” Harry said, looking down and rubbing his eyes as he focused on keeping his emotions in check. He believed in his father's friend, believed he was telling him the truth, but that didn't make the loss any easier to deal with. “But I think we've done enough brooding for now, Remus,” Harry said, wishing to change the subject. “What else did you want to talk about?”

“Well, Harry, I do have something I'd like to clear up regarding my return to Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore explained the entire situation to me. He told me about his original plan to, with your help, talk Horace Slughorn out of retirement to teach Potions, and shift Severus into the Defence position. He also told me that you and Hermione reacted very negatively to this plan, and even threatened to leave Hogwarts for good before he eventually backed off and went to work on a new plan.”

“Yeah, we did. What about it?” Harry asked. “I'm happy we confronted him on that. Snape is a foul git who has gone out of his way to make my life a living hell. He “taught” me Potions for five years, but he never actually taught me a ruddy thing. All he did was insult me, my friends, my father, Sirius, you—basically anyone I might care about. Having him for Defence wouldn't have been any better than Umbridge.”

“I know you and he have never gotten along, Harry,” Lupin said calmly, “but Severus really is quite knowledgeable on a variety of subjects. I'd wager he knows a good deal more about the Dark Arts; and, more importantly, how to defend against them, than I do. He might've been able to help you.”

“Snape has never had any interest in helping me, and he never will,” Harry asserted. “I don't trust that petty bastard one bit, Remus.”

“Dumbledore does, though,” Lupin pointed out. “Surely that has to count for something?”

“For you, maybe,” Harry said, staring straight at his professor. “Not for me.”

“Don't you trust the Headmaster, Harry?” Lupin asked, sounding alarmed.

“Not like I used to,” Harry said, gritting his teeth. “My faith in him has taken a serious hit over the past few months.”

“Because of what happened to Sirius? Harry, I know that Dumbledore could have handled that situation better, but—”

“It's not just that,” Harry cut in. “I did a lot of thinking over the summer, and I started to question some of the decisions he's made over the years.”

“Would you care to explain, Harry? Perhaps I can answer a few of your concerns.”

Harry stared at his feet for a moment, trying to decide how best to answer him. He liked Remus, trusted Remus. But he knew that Remus would be a particularly difficult person to convince, at least as far as Dumbledore and his missteps were concerned. Understandable, really, considering all Dumbledore had done for the werewolf over the years.

“I've actually gone over all of this with Dumbledore already. While we don't necessarily agree on all of my objections, he is at least aware of them. I'd be happy to share them with you, though. But I think I'd like to wait until Hermione can join us. She helped me sort through a lot of this stuff to begin with.”

“Very well, Harry. I look forward to it.”

--NMM--

“Lemon drop, Severus?”

Severus Snape rolled his eyes and shot Albus Dumbledore an annoyed look. “In all the years I have taught here, how many times have you offered me a lemon drop?”

“Nearly every time you've entered my office, I would guess,” Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling. “Too many times to count, considering all the meetings the two of us have had over the years.”

“And in all that time, have I ever said yes?”

“No, I don't believe you have.”

“Then why do you continue to offer them to me?” Snape asked, exasperated.

“Common courtesy, Severus,” the Headmaster answered. “I would not feel like a very polite host if I did not offer to share my sweets with my guests. And who knows: perhaps one day you will finally consent to try one.”

“Don't count on it,” Snape said with a sneer. “Now that I've asked my fruitless question, why don't we get on with it?”

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, and Snape adjusted himself so he was more comfortable in his seat, silently hoping that the old man would keep it brief this time. Severus had had a long day, and could not wait to retire to his private quarters and turn his attention to one of the few joys in his life: the art of potions.

“As you wish, Severus. How was your first day of lessons?”

“Wretched,” Snape replied, scowling as he thought of all the incompetent brats he'd been forced to deal with. “The new crop of first year students is, regrettably, just as mediocre as the group that preceded it. The subtle art of potions is dying a slow and painful death.”

“Oh, I'm sure it couldn't have been all that bad,” Dumbledore said, flashing that grandfatherly smile that never failed to grate on Snape's nerves.

“Well, I will admit that the day was a bit easier to stomach now that Potter is no longer around to suck up valuable oxygen,” Snape ceded, “—Weasley and Longbottom as well, for that matter.”

“I'm not surprised that you feel that way, though I will admit to being disappointed,” Dumbledore said, the smile gone now. “Given that you and Harry both want the same thing, the ultimate defeat of Voldemort, I had long hoped that the two of you would eventually come to some form of understanding. Sadly, that does not appear to be forthcoming.”

“Of course it's not!” Snape said hotly, glaring at his superior. “How could I ever get along with Potter? The brat is every bit as spoiled and lazy as his father was! I find it deplorable: the way he coasts about, relying on his fame and putting as little effort as possible into his classwork. If he truly is the only one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, then Merlin help us all.”

“I do not share that sentiment in the least, Severus. Harry has great strength, my friend. I have every confidence that he will prevail in the end.”

“Great strength?” Snape repeated, scoffing. “Your sympathy for the boy blinds you, Dumbledore. Were it not for his know-it-all friend constantly solving his problems and saving his sorry arse, Potter would be long dead by now.”

“I agree with you there, Severus. Without Miss Granger's help, as well as that of Mister Weasley, Harry would not have survived the many hardships he has experienced in his young life. But while you see that as a weakness, I consider it a strength.”

“A strength? How in the world is having to rely on others a strength?” Snape asked, struggling to comprehend Dumbledore's logic (not that that was anything new.)

“It's really quite simple, Severus: no one is perfect. We all, every last one of us, are prone to making mistakes. I have made several very large errors in my own life. Some of my mistakes have caused innocent people to lose their lives. And do you know what my biggest failing has been? My biggest failing was in believing I had all of the answers.”

“You usually do,” Snape pointed out, not trying to flatter the man, but simply stating a fact.

“I'd certainly like to think so,” Dumbledore agreed, grinning at him briefly. “I think I can honestly say that I have made the correct decision far more often than not. But when I chose incorrectly, the consequences were often dire. If I'd been a bit more willing to seek and heed the counsel of those I trust; such as Minerva, Filius, and yourself, perhaps some of my more grievous errors could have been avoided. One should never be afraid to seek the opinions of others, no matter how convinced they are that they know what is best. Fortunately for Harry, and for the entire wizarding world, he has learned this lesson far sooner than I did.”

“Has he? I'm not so sure,” Snape countered. “We know that Granger warned Potter that running off to the Ministry of Magic was a foolish endeavour. Yet he did it anyway, and Black is dead as a result. Not to mention his meddling in the affairs of Hogwarts over the summer. You can spout that 'for the greater good of Hogwarts' tripe at me all you like. I know Potter had something to do with you going back on your word, and giving the Defence job to Lupin.”

Snape glared at Dumbledore, silently daring the man to declare that Harry was not involved in the decision: something Snape knew, knew from deep in his heart, was an absolute lie. Depriving him of the job he'd earned, and making sure it went to that dimwit Lupin…it reeked of Potter. His father would be so proud!

“Harry did indeed ignore Miss Granger's counsel that night, and he paid for it dearly. That is exactly my point, Severus. After the horrors of that night, Harry now realises just how dangerous it can be to stubbornly stick to your own instincts, despite others cautioning you against them. I suspect that in the future, Harry will be far more willing to listen to what others have to say, particularly those such as Miss Granger who he trusts implicitly.

“As for your other complaint? Harry Potter hardly has the authority to choose the staff of Hogwarts, Severus,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Did he express his displeasure when I told him I planned to make you the Defence teacher? Yes, he did. You've no doubt been able to surmise this given what you already knew of my plans regarding Horace Slughorn. However, you can hardly blame the young man for not approving of the idea. You have not exactly done much to earn his trust or his respect, Severus. Perhaps if you hadn't treated him with such disdain over the years, he might have been more open to the idea.”

“And perhaps if he treated me with a bit more respect, I wouldn't have had to treat him with such disdain,” Snape retorted. “The boy is given free reign of the castle—he gets into more mischief than even his father did, which is a dubious achievement indeed. But enough about the brat's insolence. You insist that having friends to rely on makes Potter stronger, and increases his chances of defeating the Dark Lord?”

“Yes, Severus, I do. Without any doubt.”

“To that, I bring up but one name: Peter Pettigrew,” Snape said smugly, knowing he'd just provided a shining example of the folly of relying on others. “Potter's parents trusted him. They put their faith in him. And I don't need to tell you what that faith cost them.”

“Indeed you don't,” Dumbledore said sombrely.

“So what makes Potter any different? What's to stop one of his friends from selling him out to the Dark Lord the same way Pettigrew sold out James and Lily?” Snape asked, feeling rather pleased with himself for making what he felt was a very convincing argument.

“There is truth in what you say, Severus,” Dumbledore mused. “There exists the possibility that one of Harry's friends could betray his trust. I do not believe it will happen, because I believe that he has chosen his friends wisely. I would have said much the same about James and Lily; however, so I will not deny the possibility.”

Snape couldn't resist a small smirk at that admission. It was never easy to argue the Headmaster around to his way of thinking, which made moments like this one all the more satisfying.

Dumbledore was not done, however. “But I will say this: if Harry ever cuts himself off from his friends, and grows distrustful of everyone but himself, I truly believe that Voldemort will have already won. Harry's only hope is to trust in his friends. To trust in them, believe in them, and fight for them. If he loses that? As you said: Merlin help us all.”

Snape closed his eyes and bit back a scathing retort. There was simply no arguing with the sentimental old fool once he'd gotten an idea in his head. “Since it is clear that further discussion about Potter will get us nowhere, may I return to my quarters and tend to my business? Or was there something else you needed from me, Dumbledore?”

“Actually, Severus, I must detain you just a moment longer. The primary reason I asked you to join me today was so I could enquire about young Mister Malfoy. Have you made any progress?”

“Of course I haven't,” Snape answered coldly. “As I have already explained to you, Draco does not trust me. I suspect he either believes that my loyalties lie with you, or he is afraid I will attempt to take command of whatever task the Dark Lord has given him. Either way, he is not going to accept my assistance, or take me into his confidence.”

“What of his mother, Narcissa? We know how concerned she is for her son's welfare, hence why she contacted you for help. Perhaps he will soon confide in her, and she will alert you in turn,” Dumbledore suggested.

“I do not expect that to happen,” Snape said. “Draco is very much his father's son. Lucius never shared his plans with his wife, and I see no reason to think that Draco will veer from that path. All she knows is what she told me to begin with: the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to do something, and if he succeeds, efforts will be made to free Lucius from Azkaban. That is all she knows, all we know, and presumably all anyone knows aside from Draco and the Dark Lord himself.”

As he talked, Snape felt a moment of regret. If he could go back and do it again, he wasn't sure whether or not he would have informed Dumbledore of his conversation with Narcissa. At the time, he'd remained unwavering in his support of Dumbledore, and had immediately gone to him and shared every detail of his little chat with Narcissa. Of course, that was before the old man and Potter had gone behind his back and given the DADA job—his job—to Lupin. Now, all bets were off.

“Still, it wouldn't hurt to contact her from time to time,” Dumbledore insisted, bringing Snape back to the present. “And I wish for you to continue to monitor Draco as well.”

“It would be a simple thing to find out exactly what he's been asked to do,” Snape said. “A bit of Veritaserum would do the trick. Or a swift attack with Legilimency.” And that was another reason he should have kept his information to himself. He could have investigated the matter himself, without having to worry about Dumbledore and his squeamishness, and gotten the answers very quickly.

“Neither of which are legal to use on a student, Severus,” Dumbledore said dismissively. “The only time I have ever authorized such extreme action was when we tried to teach Harry Occlumency last year. I will only permit the use of such harsh measures if I become convinced that there is no other alternative. If we use either of those tactics on Draco, he will truly be lost to us forever.”

“He is already lost to us,” Snape snapped, feeling very irritated towards the man for his naivete. “Just like his father, he will stand at the Dark Lord's side until his dying breath. And if you continue to blind yourself to that fact, you will have another “grievous error” to dwell on before long.”

--NMM--

“G'night, Harry.”

“G'night, Ron,” Harry replied automatically. In truth, he doubted he'd be falling asleep any time soon.

His mind continued to drift back to that walk to the Defence classroom earlier in the day, and the four words that threatened to change everything.

'I think you're pretty.'

Four simple words, uttered solely to try and cheer his best friend up. Uttered without conscious thought. But, as he continued to dwell on them, he realised one very important thing.

They were true.

It was true; he really did think Hermione was pretty. It was entirely possible that he'd thought she was pretty for some time, without really realising it. And the more he thought about it, the more he tried to talk himself out of it or convince himself that this was a dangerous train of thought, the more he came to appreciate her beauty.

He already knew that he'd been enjoying her hugs. Those tight hugs, where she pressed her body against his and wrapped her arms around him, had made him very aware that she was developing: turning from a girl into a woman. Maybe she wasn't as curvy as Lavender, but Harry had no complaints whatsoever about Hermione's figure.

On the train, he'd noticed that her buckteeth were long gone, replaced by a very nice set of teeth that no doubt made her dentist parents proud. Her rather bushy hair was another physical feature the nasty Slytherins tended to mock, but Harry was growing to appreciate even that. Her wild and untameable hair was just part of what made her Hermione. It made her look very different from all the other girls at Hogwarts, which Harry thought was quite appropriate. And besides, it would be pretty hypocritical of him to get hung up on someone's hair given his own messy locks.

There could be no doubt about it, as far as Harry was concerned: Hermione Granger had turned into a very pretty girl. When she had given him that…that look just before she'd left Lupin's classroom, he'd felt the same jitters he'd often felt around Cho. Harry supposed there wasn't any point in denying it: he was beginning to fancy Hermione.

But what should he do about it? Hermione wasn't just some girl he thought was pretty, like Cho had been. She was his best friend. She was the person he turned to for advice, for help, for support. She was the one and only person who had always stood by his side.

What if he told Hermione about his feelings, but she didn't return them? Would it take away what they already had with each other? He couldn't bear the thought of losing Hermione's friendship. He depended on her, and would in all likelihood be lost without her. Was it worth admitting his feelings, if there was the slightest chance that it could damage their friendship? Could he take that risk?

Harry continued to mull over that question well past curfew, accompanied by the soundtrack of Ron's snores.

--NMM--

Hermione watched with unreserved sympathy as Harry ate his food, staring straight down at his plate to avoid the numerous sets of eyes he knew were watching his every move. It hadn't been an easy first two weeks of term at Hogwarts for her dearest friend. While the rumours and speculation swirling around him had died down to some degree, there was still considerable interest in Harry. Everywhere he'd gone, he'd had to deal with people gawking at him. The fascination with the rumoured Chosen One even carried over to Gryffindor's quidditch try-outs earlier that day. The vast majority of the students who'd shown up had no interest in trying out for the team. In fact, some of them hadn't even been Gryffindors. They'd come solely to catch a glimpse of their hero. 'Though many of the girls would've liked a lot more than a glimpse', she thought to herself angrily.

“How do you like the team, Ron?” Harry asked, apparently turning to conversation to try and distract himself. Hermione watched in disgust as Ron rapidly swallowed the huge mouthful of meat in his mouth so he could answer Harry—though she did give silent thanks that he'd at least had the decency to swallow it all before he spoke.

“I'm not sure, Harry,” Ron answered uncertainly. “I mean, you're a great Seeker, of course, and we know how good Katie is as a Chaser. But Ginny and Dean? And what about Peakes and Coote as Beaters? We've got loads of question marks.”

“Oh, don't be so negative, Ron,” Hermione interjected. “I was watching, and it was clear even to me that you made the right choice at each and every position. All you have to do now is work hard in practice, and you're sure to—”

Hermione stopped speaking in mid-sentence because, to her surprise, one of the Hogwarts owls swooped down in front of Harry to deliver a letter.

“That's odd. You hardly ever receive post at Hogwarts, Harry, since nearly everyone who might write to you is already here in the castle,” Hermione pointed out.

“She's right, mate,” Ron agreed. “Who's it from?”

“None of your business,” Harry mumbled, reaching out and grabbing the letter before quickly stuffing it into the pocket of his trousers. This set off alarm bells in Hermione's head. He had obviously been expecting a letter from someone, and he didn't want either her or Ron to know about it.

“Why are you being so secretive, Harry?” she asked. “There's no need to hide things from us. You know you can trust us.”

“Of course I do, Hermione,” he assured her. “This just isn't something I want to share with you right now.” When she continued to stare at him, concerned about the fact that he was hiding things from her, he went on. “It's nothing bad, I promise. You're going to find out what it was about pretty soon anyway,” he vowed.

“OK, Harry, I'll let it go. I trust you,” Hermione said softly. Harry gave her a relieved smile before returning his attention to his plate.

However, Hermione could not share in his relief. She trusted Harry, of course, which was why she relented. Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about it all. It bothered her that he felt the need to keep things from her, even if it turned out to be something trivial. Who would he be expecting a letter from, with all of his friends here at Hogwarts? And why didn't he want her or Ron to know who it was from?

Added to that was Harry's odd behaviour around her. She'd been so touched when he'd told her he thought she was pretty. But ever since then, he had seemed extremely uncomfortable around her. She had tried to delicately address the elephant in the room several times over the past couple of weeks, but Harry quickly changed the subject every time. She hadn't pressed him on it, figuring he'd get over his nervousness eventually and they'd be able to talk about it calmly. But now, she wasn't so sure. Could his discomfort around her be related to this letter in some way?

She shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts of both Harry's awkward behaviour and the mysterious letter from her mind. Harry would open up to her about both eventually...right?

-->

10. 10. Surprise!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

A/N: Thanks once again to my beta Orieon for his help.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 10: Surprise!

“Looks like almost everyone from the DA showed up,” Hermione remarked. “Those who are still at Hogwarts, at least.”

Harry glanced around the Room of Requirement, verifying that Hermione was correct. With only one exception, every remaining DA member was present in the wide-open space the room had provided. “You're right,” he agreed. “Only one missing is Marietta, and I certainly won't miss her.”

“You and me both, mate,” Ron chimed in, nodding. “No way can that little sneak be trusted after what she did last year. I'm glad she didn't bother showing up.”

“Not to mention Malfoy or any of that lot,” Harry added. “You'd have to keep looking over your shoulder if any of them were in here.”

“I don't think it's much of a surprise that Malfoy and his friends didn't bother to show up,” Hermione said. “Most Pureblood supremacists seem to think that they're naturally powerful, and don't need to actually work at it.”

“It'd be a perfect excuse to try a surprise attack, though,” Ron said.

Hermione immediately shook her head. “I don't think so, Ron,” she replied. “If they did try anything during these Advanced Defence meetings, they'd be severely outnumbered, in an enclosed space that doesn't allow apparition or portkey travel, with a fully trained adult wizard on hand to boot. I don't think even Draco is foolish enough to test those odds.”

“I dunno, Hermione. This is the ferret we're talking about. But I guess if he does show up, you can just smack him around like you did in 3rd Year,” Harry said, grinning at her. Hermione rolled her eyes, but gave him a small smile all the same.

The trio continued to chat amongst themselves for a few minutes until their attention, along with that of everyone else in the room, was captured by the arrival of Headmaster Dumbledore himself.

“Hello, students, and welcome to the very first Advanced Defence meeting,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the assembled students as he took his place at the front of the room. “I trust all of you have already read the rules and guidelines that were posted in the house common rooms, but I cannot stress enough how important it is for you to abide by them. These sessions will be very hands-on, and many of the things we will go over will be quite dangerous. If you do not treat exercise proper caution, you could inflict serious harm on either yourself or someone else.”

Dumbledore paused to give his message time to sink in, and Harry took that opportunity to glance around the room and gauge how the others were reacting. Fortunately, it seemed that everyone who had shown up was taking this quite seriously, if their resolute facial expressions were to be believed. Dumbledore was evidently satisfied as well, because he continued his speech a few moments later.

“We will go beyond merely teaching you the basics of how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts. In effect, the objective of these meetings will be to make sure each and every one of you is as prepared as possible should you be forced to defend yourself. I hope that none of you will ever need to put this knowledge to use, but the unfortunate truth is that our society is at war. Lord Voldemort is out there, gathering supporters and making plans as we speak. Anyone who does not support his cause could potentially be a target for he and his Death Eaters. Whether you are male or female, adult or underage, pure-blood or muggle-born, you are not safe from Voldemort if you do not sympathize with his beliefs. Even here, at Hogwarts, you are not truly safe from the possibility of attack. But if you pay attention and put forth your best effort in these meetings, you will hopefully have a fighting chance should the worst happen.”

The mood was understandably sombre after the Headmaster's speech. Harry shared a glance with Ron and Hermione, who both met his gaze solemnly. He then glanced around the room, taking note of how some of the others were reacting.

He saw the determined looks on the faces of Ginny and Neville, as well as the inscrutable expression on Luna's. He had no doubt that the three of them would be taking these Advanced Defence meetings very seriously after what they'd experienced alongside he, Ron and Hermione in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry's attention was also drawn to Susan Bones, whose lips were quivering in what Harry assumed was an effort to control her emotions. He could hardly blame her for being emotional after her aunt Amelia had been murdered over the summer. And with her uncle Edgar and his family also having fallen victim to Death Eaters during the first war with Voldemort, Susan and her family knew all too well what it was like to lose loved ones. Harry had a feeling that Susan would be one of the most focused and determined students in these meetings.

“With this being the first meeting, we are going to stick to simply reinforcing the basics for now. Why don't you all find a partner and spread out so we have plenty of room to practice?” Dumbledore instructed.

“Harry, would you like to work together?” Hermione asked, but Harry didn't immediately reply. Looking around, he saw the partnerships begin to form. Most students partnered either with their closest friend, like Lavender and Parvati, or their boyfriend or girlfriend, like Ginny and Dean. Those left out made do with someone they were familiar with, like Seamus partnering with Neville. One person remained alone, though: Luna, standing off to the side with a dreamy expression on her face.

“Nah, why don't you and Ron work together?” Harry suggested. “I'm going to go see if Luna wants to partner with me.”

“Sure, Harry,” Hermione said, though the disgruntled look she gave him before he turned away was not lost on Harry.

Before Harry could make it to Luna, he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He turned his head and found himself face-to-face with his ex-girlfriend, Cho Chang.

“Hello, Harry. Would you like to be my partner?” Cho asked, smiling sweetly at him. Harry still thought she looked very pretty, but he didn't feel the same attraction towards her that he used to feel. By now, he knew why this was the case: he was falling for a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor instead, whether he wanted to or not.

“No thanks, Cho,” Harry answered as politely as he could manage. “I was actually going to see if Luna wanted to work with me today,” he continued.

“Oh, OK,” Cho said, looking disappointed. “Talk to you later then, Harry.”

“Yeah, sure, Cho,” Harry said over his shoulder, leaving his erstwhile crush behind so he could approach the eccentric blonde.

“Oh, hello, Harry,” Luna said once he'd gotten close. “Was there something you needed?”

“Err...I wanted to ask you to be my partner,” Harry explained. If it had been anyone else, he'd have wondered why he had to explain something that seemed so obvious. With Luna, he wasn't the least bit surprised.

“I'd be happy to, Harry,” Luna said, smiling at him. “I'm surprised you aren't partnering with Hermione or Ronald, though.”

“Eh, I figured I'd let them work together,” Harry said, shrugging. “Besides, I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you this term, and after what we went through together at the Ministry, I'd like to get to know you better.”

“I'd like that too, Harry,” Luna affirmed. “But are you sure you aren't at least partially motivated by your reluctance to be alone with Hermione?”

“Not sure what you're talking about, Luna,” Harry said uncomfortably, wondering how Luna had managed to suss it out. That hadn't been the only reason he'd left his two best friends behind to approach Luna, but it had certainly been a factor.

“Ginny told me that you and Hermione have been acting strangely around each other in your common room,” Luna answered. “She seems to think there's some sort of romantic tension, but I'm worried that the aquavirius maggots we encountered in the Department of Mysteries may have attached themselves to you in some way.”

“Err...yeah, maybe,” Harry mumbled, not really sure what else to say in response. He vaguely recalled her mentioning those supposed mythical creatures at the time. He was pretty sure they were just brains, but he didn't see the point in debating the issue with her like Hermione might have.

Harry was saved from formulating any further response when Dumbledore, upon seeing that everyone present had split into pairs, began giving out instructions. As the Headmaster had promised, they stuck to some rather basic spells during the first session. Some of the students complained about having to practise such simple spells as the Disarming Spell or the Full Body-Bind, but Harry was pleased to note that the former D.A. members were not among them. He'd been able to make them see that even the simplest spells could help them out in a life-or-death situation if used correctly, and it filled Harry with a distinct sense of pride. Just as they were to begin practising the Shield Charm, Harry learned that he wasn't the only one to notice this trend.

“Harry, would you mind answering a question for the rest of the class?” Dumbledore asked amiably.

“I guess not,” Harry said uncertainly, wondering where the Headmaster was going with this.

“Everyone here has heard at least a condensed version of what you and your friends went through in the Department of Mysteries this past spring,” Dumbledore began.

Everyone in the class was now listening intently, eager to potentially learn some new information about the oft-discussed battle. Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The faith he'd had in the revered Headmaster had been severely shaken over the past months, and he seriously doubted it would ever return in full. Just what did he have up his sleeve this time?

“I will spare everyone all of the mundane details, but suffice it to say that you and your friends were dealing with some of Lord Voldemort's most trusted Death Eaters, men and women who have not hesitated to torture or even kill in the past. If I understand the story correctly, you used one spell in particular to deny their efforts. Would you like to tell the class which spell that was?”

“Protego. The Shield Charm,” Harry answered simply. Despite his recent issues with the man, Harry couldn't deny that the Headmaster had just rather cleverly silenced any complaints the newcomers might have had. What better way to establish the effectiveness a seemingly simple spell could have than to cite a real-life example? It was actually very similar to how Harry had shot down the grumblings of Zacharias Smith when he'd taught the Disarming Spell during the first D.A. meeting, though Harry had been far less calculating about it.

There weren't any more complaints after that, and the meeting went smoothly from there. Dumbledore would introduce a new spell, and the students would practise it with their partner, not moving on until Dumbledore was satisfied that they'd gotten proficient enough with the spell that they'd be able to effectively use it in a pinch. With Luna having been a hard-working member of the D.A., she was familiar with almost all of the spells Dumbledore had them practise, and the two of them were almost always among the first two or three pairs to complete a spell. When they finished early, Harry had a chance to glance around the room and see how everyone else was doing. He couldn't help but notice that the pairings that were comprised of two former D.A. members, such as Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Dean, were much farther along than the rest of the pack. Once again, Harry was filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. He knew he was at least partially responsible for the success of these particular students, and it was quite gratifying.

After Dumbledore had them go through somewhere around ten basic spells, he instructed them to actually begin duelling their partners. The only instructions he gave were to cast only the spells they'd just gone over, and to take a brief break to rest every time a member of the pair either yielded or was disarmed.

Harry didn't go full tilt on Luna when they first began, wanting to take it easy on her so she'd feel better about her skills. Luna quickly made him pay for his gall, disarming him in short order.

“Here's your wand back, Harry,” Luna said cheerfully, handing him his wand while smiling serenely at him. Harry accepted the wand, feeling his face redden in embarrassment; not embarrassment at being defeated, but embarrassment at being so overconfident in his own ability. That was a mistake that Voldemort and his Death Eaters seemed to make on a routine basis, and Harry certainly didn't want to follow their dubious example.

Harry did not hold back one bit from that point on, and he and Luna had some very competitive duels. Having more combat experience than anyone his age ever should, Harry won far more often than not. Still, Luna proved to be a capable opponent. Much as in everyday life, she was nearly impossible to read. She constantly kept Harry guessing as to what action she was about to take, and that unpredictability allowed her to surprise him with the occasional Disarming Spell or Full Body-Bind. As they continued to duel, Harry's respect for Luna grew exponentially. She had been one of the hardest workers in the D.A., but she'd gotten even better after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. If any Death Eaters underestimated “Loony” in a fight, they'd be in for a nasty surprise!

“I believe that is enough for today,” Dumbledore said, officially bringing an end to the proceedings. “Nice work, everyone. Some more complex spells, as well as some different combat situations, will be introduced during our next meeting. Until then, be sure to keep up with your classwork, and good day.” With one last grandfatherly smile, the Headmaster turned and walked out of the Room of Requirement, leaving the students alone. Harry wiped some sweat off of his forehead as he turned to his partner.

“You did really good, Luna,” Harry said, genuinely impressed with how well she'd done.

“Oh, thank you, Harry,” Luna replied, that same serene smile still on her face. “You did as well.”

Before Harry and Luna had a chance to converse any further, they were joined by Ron and Hermione. Ron had a broad grin on his face, but Hermione was a very different story. She looked upset, angry even, for some reason that Harry couldn't fathom.

“That was a bloody good workout!” Ron exclaimed. “Now I know why you didn't want to partner with Hermione, mate—you knew she'd kick your arse!”

“Luna's pretty good too,” Harry retorted truthfully. “But yes, being publicly embarrassed by Hermione is something I want to avoid,” he joked, grinning at Hermione. But she did not smile back.

“You might want to avoid it, but you'd certainly deserve it,” Hermione said, glaring at him with an anger that stunned Harry. He took an involuntary step backwards, not sure what to make of his friend's sudden hostility.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Harry asked. “What did I do?”

That was evidently the exact wrong thing to say, because Hermione's glare grew even stonier. “Harry, don't give me that! You know exactly what you've done, and continue to do!”

“No, I don't,” Harry insisted, beginning to get angry himself. “Are you seriously this upset that I wanted to partner with Luna today? She's my friend too, you know.”

“Of course this isn't about Luna! This is about you continuing to go out of your way to avoid spending time with me! I'm sick of it!”

She had a point there, as Harry had been doing exactly that for the past couple of weeks. But she knew why he was doing it, didn't she?

“Don't try and deny it, mate,” Ron said quietly. “We all know you've been doing it. You've been really obvious about it.”

As Harry tried to think up a response, he noticed that this little chat had attracted the attention of just about everyone who had yet to leave the Room of Requirement. That's just what he needed, he thought to himself: an audience.

“Do we really have to do this here?” Harry muttered. “Everyone's watching us.”

“Oh, fine!” Hermione huffed, and she began marching towards the door. Harry relaxed, thinking Hermione was going to let it drop, but he was about to find out that he was mistaken. Once she reached the door, Hermione turned around and stared at Harry expectantly.

“What're you looking at me like that for?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“You didn't want an audience, so we're going somewhere private,” she answered, as she continued to stare right at him.

“But--”

“No buts, Harry,” she said, cutting him off immediately. “You've been avoiding this, and I know you've been through a lot recently, so I didn't push you. But I'm tired of you putting this distance between us, so we are going to sort this out right now. We can either leave and do it alone, or do it right here in front of anyone who cares to watch. Your choice.” Harry tried to come up with some retort or excuse, but soon decided that it was a lost cause. When Hermione got worked up like this, she was all but impossible to dissuade.

“Fine, have it your way,” he conceded, reluctantly leaving his other friends behind so he could follow Hermione to the door. As he approached, she stepped out of the Room of Requirement and looked over her shoulder to make sure he was coming. Harry fell into step beside her, resigned.

They walked down the corridor in silence until Hermione spotted a classroom that looked unused. After peeking her head in to confirm that the room was in fact empty, she opened the door and stepped inside. She held the door open and looked to him expectantly until he followed her lead and joined her in the long-abandoned classroom. The door closed behind them with an ominous slam.

Hermione cast several quick charms on the door to ensure that they would not be disturbed, and turned to him in anticipation. He looked back at her hesitantly, feeling very uncomfortable. He obviously took too long for Hermione's liking, because she gave an impatient huff and got the conversation started herself.

“Harry, you can't keep running away from this,” she began. “It's coming between us, and I'm not going to allow that any longer. I'm not going to let you avoid this, or avoid me. Why are you acting like this, any way? It's nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled. “You're not the one who blurted out, “I think you're pretty”, are you?”

“And why should that be embarrassing?” she asked, with an edge to her voice.

“Because...I don't know!” Harry said, throwing up his hands helplessly and dragging his foot along the floor in frustration.

“Harry, there's no reason for you to be so embarrassed about this, and there's no reason to act so odd around me,” Hermione insisted, her voice now soft and gentle. “It doesn't bother me that you called me pretty. Honestly, it's rather flattering. And besides, I feel the same way about you, you know,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Startled, Harry stared at her with wide eyes, but he saw her friendly, genuine smile and knew she was telling him the truth.

“Really?” Harry eventually stammered, after being momentarily struck speechless. Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes at him.

“Of course. Well, I guess that isn't exactly true. I don't think you're pretty, but you are most definitely handsome,” she amended, grinning at him. Harry couldn't help grinning back, and he felt his nervousness melt away.

“I never knew,” he said quietly. “How long have you...err, felt that way?”

“I suppose I've always thought you were attractive on some level, but I think it was during 4th year, when we spent all that time alone preparing for the Triwizard, that I really noticed,” Hermione explained. Harry thought he could detect the slightest hint of a blush on Hermione's cheeks at the admission, but her voice did not waiver and she continued to meet his gaze. “And how about you, Harry?”

Harry, emboldened by Hermione's frankness, found it easy to make his own admission. “I thought you looked really pretty at the Yule Ball, but other than that, I've always thought of you as just Hermione, my best friend,” Harry said honestly. She nodded in understanding, so he continued. “I'm not sure when I started thinking of you differently, but it's a pretty recent thing for me.”

“There, that wasn't so hard, was it?” Hermione said, more a statement than a question. Harry shrugged and shook his head, and Hermione smiled at him. “You think I'm pretty. That's a compliment, and not something you need to be embarrassed about. So stop acting all strange around me, Harry.”

“OK,” Harry agreed. “Now that we've talked about it, I feel pretty stupid for avoiding you,” he said sheepishly.

“Well, you were being pretty stupid,” Hermione teased, smirking at him. “I think I understand a little better now, though. I've always been just your best friend, Hermione, and suddenly noticing me as a girl sort of freaked you out. But now that we've got this all sorted out, you can stop acting like a fool. Harry, you're my best friend, and I'll always be here for you. Whatever you need, I'll be there to help you, and nothing is going to change that,” she said with conviction.

Hermione seemed satisfied once Harry nodded and murmured his understanding, but as they headed towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry couldn't help but sneak surreptitious glances at his decidedly female best friend's form.

-NMM-

Hermione gathered her things and swiftly exited the library, knowing she only had a few minutes before she was supposed to meet Harry in the Room of Requirement for some Potions instruction. Most people wouldn't consider tutoring a friend to be a very fun birthday activity, but Hermione readily acknowledged that she was not like most people. She was thrilled that Harry was taking his schoolwork more seriously this year, and she was more than happy to help him however she could.

Hermione never made a big fuss over her birthday. She usually celebrated the occasion with her parents just before she went back to Hogwarts, but they'd still send along a smaller gift for the actual day as well. The day mostly passed without much fanfare from her fellow students, but Harry and Ron always made sure to wish her a happy birthday and give her a little gift. It was always nice to know that they'd remembered her and put forth the effort to pick something out for her.

This year had actually been even better. Harry and Ron had both wished her a happy birthday first thing, and throughout the day she also received well wishes from Neville, Ginny and Luna, among others. If anything good had come out of that trip to the Department of Mysteries, it was that the six students involved had grown pretty close. She loved Harry and Ron to death, but it had been nice to branch out and become friendlier with others as well.

Hermione hurried to the Room of Requirement, eager to get there as quickly as possible so she and Harry would have plenty of time for their lesson. As she neared the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy, she decided with a smile that this would be a perfect chance to break in the new personalized quill set Harry had given her that very morning. Seeing that a door to the room had already been revealed, meaning Harry was obviously inside and waiting, Hermione stepped inside, already feeling herself slipping into 'lecture mode.'

“Surprise!”

Hermione let out a startled shriek, looking around in shock at everyone who had shouted at her. There were several people in attendance, but as usual, her focus was on Harry first and foremost. He was wearing a goofy party hat and grinning at her from ear to ear. All thoughts of potions faded as he stepped forward to greet her.

“Happy birthday, Hermione!” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said. “And everyone else as well.”

“Don't thank us, Hermione. It was all Harry's idea,” Ron said. Hermione looked away from the redhead and back towards their mutual best friend.

“You set all this up?” she asked, smiling up at him tenderly.

“Well, yeah. You've always done so much for me, so I decided to do something special for you. I wrote your parents to see if they thought this would be a good idea, and they thought it was, so...”

“So that's what that letter was about?” Hermione interrupted. “I'd been wondering who wrote to you. I never would have guessed it was my parents!”

“Yeah, that's why I was hiding it from you. It wouldn't have been much of a surprise party if you knew about it ahead of time. They actually wrote me a couple of times, but that was the only letter that came while you were around,” Harry said sheepishly. “So, do you like it?” he asked hopefully.

“Absolutely. Thank you, Harry,” Hermione answered, pulling him into a tight hug. She felt Harry's body tense up momentarily, but she just squeezed him tighter. He eventually gave in, wrapping his own arms around her and returning the friendly gesture. She stepped back after a few long moments, giving Harry one last smile before focusing on the rest of the guests who'd shown up for her surprise party.

It was a rather small affair, but that suited Hermione just fine. Also in attendance, aside from Harry and Ron, were Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean and Professor Lupin. “Thank you for coming, everyone,” Hermione said, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, everyone's happy to be here. Now let's eat! I'm starved!” Ron said, earning a chuckle from Harry.

“What else is new?” Harry teased, but Hermione didn't respond. After Ron's comment, she finally took note of the setting the room had provided. It bore more than a passing resemblance to her own comfortable living room from home; unsurprising, since Harry had likely asked the room to provide a setting she would enjoy. And, sitting on a table off to the side: a strawberry cake.

“Harry, where did the cake come from?” Hermione asked, confused. “Food is one of the few things the room can't provide; that is one of the Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.”

“Only you would go into a lecture at your own birthday party, Hermione,” Ron teased, to which she replied by rolling her eyes at him. “Professor Lupin actually brought that up as soon as Harry told him about this party.”

“So I said I'd bake a cake myself,” Harry said.

“Really?” Hermione said quickly, her eyebrows raised. She certainly hadn't been expecting that response. “I didn't know you could bake.”

“I've been making food for the Dursleys for years, so I've actually gotten pretty good at it,” Harry said nonchalantly. That made Hermione sad, because given what she knew about Harry's aunt and uncle, it went without saying that they never showed him the slightest bit of gratitude for that, or any of the other things he'd done for them.

Harry evidently mistook her sadness for something else, because he hastened to reassure her. “Really, Hermione, I know how to cook, I promise. Your mother gave me the recipe, and I followed it step by step. I mean, I doubt it'll taste as good as when she makes it, but...”

“Harry, I believe you,” Hermione said, waving him off. “So, you specifically asked for my mum's strawberry cake recipe? Did you know that is my favourite? I don't remember telling you.”

“No, I don't think you ever did,” Harry answered. “I asked your mum if she made anything special for your birthday, and she mentioned the strawberry cake, so I asked her for the recipe. I hope you don't mind, since you just had it right before coming back to Hogwarts.”

“Harry, are you kidding? I would eat my mum's strawberry cake every day if I could. Now give me a piece!” Hermione said lightly.

“Right away!” Harry said cheekily. He cut the cake and began handing out pieces, making sure to start with her. Hermione noted with some amusement that the slice Harry handed to Ron was considerably bigger than any of the others. Shaking her head and grinning to herself, Hermione claimed a loveseat and dug in.

“So? How is it?” Harry asked her several seconds later. Hermione could see that he was eagerly awaiting her answer, which she found strangely touching.

“Harry, it's excellent,” she said. “It's just as good as mum's! You weren't kidding when you said you were good at this.” She wasn't saying this merely to make her friend feel good, either; it was the truth. Harry had recreated her mum's special dessert perfectly!

“I'm glad you like it,” Harry said with a smile. Once he handed Professor Lupin a slice of cake, he claimed one for himself and looked around the room for a place to sit. Hermione thought it strange that the room didn't simply provide him with another chair, but she wasn't in the mood to analyse it.

“Harry, sit here” Hermione said, patting the vacant spot next to her on the loveseat. He hesitated for a second, but plopped down next to her soon enough. There wasn't much room to spare on the cosy loveseat, forcing the two friends to sit side-by-side. Hermione could feel Harry's thigh pressed against hers, and every time he raised his fork to take a bite of cake, his arm brushed against hers.

'Not a bad birthday, even if I really was looking forward to our little lesson', Hermione thought to herself, suppressing a smile.

-NMM-

“Did you have a good time?”

“Absolutely, Harry. It was wonderful; thank you so much,” Hermione said enthusiastically, smiling at both he and Ron after the three of of them stepped through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. The party had ended some time ago, and the guests had gradually filtered out of the Room of Requirement until it was just her, Harry and Ron. The three of them had sat around and talked for a bit before she'd announced that she wanted to return to the common room and get started on her essay for Professor Snape. That had drawn a snicker from Harry and a roll of the eyes from Ron, but they both waited for her to gather up her presents and came along with her all the same.

“Well that was fun, but I know Hermione's just dying to work on her bloody essay, and I'd hate to distract her,” Ron said teasingly. Hermione just shook her head, not bothering to retort. “Besides, I wanna go work on some strategies for the quidditch team. Wanna help me, Harry?”

“Eh, no thanks, mate,” Harry said. “I'm rubbish at that stuff; that's why you're the captain. As long as the beaters take care of the bludgers, all I've gotta do is go after the snitch anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Ron said, shrugging as he started up the stairs to the boy's dormitories. “Happy birthday, Hermione,” he called over his shoulder, and she thanked him just before he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

“Harry, thank you again for putting all of this together,” Hermione said once they were alone. “It was the best birthday I've had since coming to Hogwarts.”

“Don't mention it, Hermione,” he said sheepishly. “It's your 17th birthday; you're an adult now as far as magical society is concerned. You deserved something special.”

“Harry, don't try and act like it was nothing. Planning the party, making what you knew was my favourite dessert; it was very sweet of you. And even though the lovely quill set you got me was more than enough, you gave me a second wonderful present,” she said, smiling as she raised her arm to display the beautiful watch he'd given her.

“That was easy, though,” Harry objected. “The Weasleys told me it's tradition to give a wizard a watch on his 17th birthday, and since your parents aren't magical and didn't know about that, I got it for you instead.”

“There you go again,” Hermione said with a sigh. “It's tradition to give a wizard a watch on his 17th birthday, yes, but no such tradition exists for witches. But you got me one anyway.”

“Well, yeah. Mrs. Weasley didn't say that witches got them, but she didn't say they didn't get them either. And I knew that your old watch was pretty battered, so I thought you could use it anyway. I don't see what the big deal is.”

“Oh, Harry, you stubborn idiot,” Hermione said teasingly. “I guess you not seeing what the big deal is is just part of your goofy charm.” His cheeks reddened at that, and she grinned to herself in amusement. “Regardless, thank you for everything.”

“You're welcome, Hermione,” Harry said simply, smiling at her briefly before looking away. Hermione returned the smile, savouring this moment with her best friend.

“Well, I guess I better be going,” Harry said just moments later. “I know you wanted to start on that essay, and I've got some stuff I need to do too, so...”

“Wait!” Hermione blurted out before Harry could finish.

“What is it, Hermione? You said yourself that you wanted to work on it.”

“I do, but I have to thank you first,” she said quietly. This is it, she thought to herself, feeling her heartbeat accelerate.

“You already thanked me,” Harry pointed out, staring at her in confusion.

“No, I told you that I was thankful. Now I'm going to show you,” she clarified. And then she kissed him.

This was not a peck on the cheek, like she'd given him at King's Cross following their 4th year. This was her lips on Harry's lips, for the first time ever. It was a very short kiss, only a momentary brush of lips in truth, but she knew that it still went above and beyond any normal, friendly affection. And she was pretty sure Harry knew it too.

She felt Harry's body stiffen in shock, but she pulled back and looked away. She didn't need to see the look on his face to know that she'd gotten her point across.

“Hermione, what--” Harry began, but she shook her head to silence him.

“Not now, Harry. You need time to process this. We'll talk later.”

“But--”

“Later, Harry,” she repeated. “After you've had time to think. Now, I really do need to get started on that essay, so I think I'll head up to my dorm. Thanks again, Harry. For everything.”

-NMM-

“What's wrong, Draco?”

“None of your business, Parkinson,” Draco Malfoy spat, not even bothering to look at Pansy.

“F-fine! Be that way, you jerk!” Pansy sobbed, storming off. Draco paid her no mind, though, and remained motionless in the dark green leather sofa that had long been his customary seat in the Slytherin common room. He had no time for silly girls and their petty emotional concerns; he had a mission to carry out.

The Dark Lord had assured him that the plan did not need to be executed right away. In fact, he'd encouraged him to take his time, saying that it made no difference whether they set things in motion tomorrow, next week, next month, or even several months into the future. Thus, Draco had not made his move yet, and was in no hurry to do so. Unless the Dark Lord contacted him to say that time was running short, he would bide his time and wait for the opportune moment. This was a task that would require patience and stealth, after all, and one misstep could ruin everything. He would not rush into a mistake and jeopardise the mission.

It made Draco uneasy that so much of this plan hinged on that fool Wormtail. Even with his inside knowledge of Potter's dead father and his stupid friends, how could that idiot Gryffindor be trusted? Draco did not like it one bit. The Dark Lord seemed quite confident that the plan would pay dividends, though, and Draco was determined to prove that he was loyal to the cause. So he would trust in the Dark Lord's judgement, and trust that his faith in Wormtail was not misplaced. He would redeem the Malfoy name, and the Dark Lord would reward him by rescuing his father from Azkaban. He would look his father in the eyes and know that he had made him proud.

And how could Lucius not be proud? After all, when next they met, he would have given their lord Harry Potter—not to mention every single Mudblood and blood traitor in Hogwarts—on a silver platter.

-NMM-

Chapter revised on June 28th, 2012 (rewrote Hermione's birthday so all of her friends don't come across as insensitive jerks by ignoring her birthday prior to the party.)

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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11. 11. The Life of a Spy

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

A/N: This chapter is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 11: The Life of a Spy

September 20th, 1996 was one of the longest days of Harry's life.

It was only the night before that they'd thrown Hermione's surprise birthday party, after which Hermione had kissed him on the lips. Harry wasn't sure how long he stood stock still right where she'd left him in the common room, nor was he actually aware of walking up the steps to the Gryffindor sixth year boys' dorm. He vaguely remembered Ron going on and on about some new strategical move he'd drawn up for the quidditch team, but the only thing he'd been able to focus on for the rest of the night was Hermione's lips and the way they'd felt against his own.

Harry was glad she'd given him time to process it, because he'd been incoherent for the rest of the night. Even when he'd woken up in the morning (following a very restless sleep), Harry was still not any closer to figuring out how he was going to respond when he saw her.

Thankfully, Hermione hadn't pressed him when he'd come down the steps and into the common room that morning. She'd simply given him a light hug, whispered that they'd talk after dinner, and walked with he and Ron down to breakfast. She made no further reference to what she'd done the night before, and at least as far as Harry could tell, she seemed to be behaving just as she always did.

Harry couldn't say the same for himself. He'd been preoccupied and distracted all day, and several of his professors had scolded him for it. But he couldn't help it. How could he be expected to focus on transfiguration or goblin rebellions when his best friend—Hermione--had kissed him the night before? About the only thing Harry took solace in was the fact that he no longer had to take Potions. He could only imagine how badly Snape would have ripped into him for his inattention.

The day dragged on forever, and Harry was sure that no meal in history had ever lasted as long as that evening's dinner, but finally, Hermione set down her fork and stood up from the table. Harry had quickly followed suit and looked towards Hermione anxiously, unsure what to do next. Hermione provided the answer, as she told Ron and their other friends that she and Harry were going to head up to the Room of Requirement for some Potions work. Then she'd given Harry a brief, encouraging smile and walked out of the Great Hall, and Harry had quickly fallen into step beside her.

“Well, here we are,” Hermione announced unnecessarily, leading Harry inside. Harry took a deep breath and looked Hermione in the eyes, sure that his anxiety had to be written all over his face.

“Harry, relax, it's just me,” Hermione said warmly.

“I know, but it's just...I mean this is...it's a huge deal,” Harry stammered.

“I know it is, Harry,” Hermione agreed, nodding. “But there's no need to look so terrified.” When he didn't respond, Hermione continued speaking. “So, I know you haven't had the best luck with understanding girls, but I'm hoping you got the hint last night.”

“I might be thick, but even I couldn't miss that,” Harry answered, managing a small smile. “You fancy me,” he said quietly, feeling his face heat up as he did. Hermione went slightly pink as well, but she smiled and nodded.

“'Fancy' probably isn't the word I'd use, but that's the general idea, yes,” Hermione affirmed. “Harry, I like you. You've been my closest friend for years. I know you so well, and I love spending time with you. I'm attracted to you, and you admitted that you're attracted to me too. I'd like to try and turn our friendship into something...well, something more. Now that you've had some time to think about it, how are you feeling?”

Harry was stunned at how calm Hermione seemed, considering the nervousness he'd been dealing with all day. Steeling himself, Harry tried to figure out how to explain exactly what he was feeling.

“You already know that I think you're pretty,” Harry said needlessly, to which Hermione nodded, a pleased smile on her face. “And we obviously already know each other really well and get along great most of the time.” When their mutual feelings were stated matter-of-factly like that, there didn't seem to be any reason for him not to date Hermione. But still...

“But...?” Hermione put in quietly, picking up on his hesitation.

“What if we try this and it doesn't work out?” Harry asked anxiously, giving voice to his biggest fear. “What if we date for awhile, things go bad, and we lose what we already have? You're my best friend, Hermione. There's no one I trust more than you, or depend on more than you. I don't think I could take it if I lost you.”

“I couldn't take that either, Harry,” Hermione said, a serious expression on her face, and Harry's initial thought was that she agreed with the point he just made and had changed her mind. Before he could decide whether he was relieved or crushed, Hermione continued. “But Harry, the friendship we already have is something we're never going to lose. I know you. I know that you're a good person and would never intentionally hurt me, and I hope you know me well enough by now to know that I'd never want to hurt you either. So if we try being a couple and it doesn't work, we can always go back to just being best friends. Like I said, I'll always be there for you, no matter what.”

“You promise?” Harry asked, taking a step towards Hermione and staring into her brown eyes.

“Always,” Hermione repeated softly, staring right back at him. “Harry, I want this, and I know you do too. If we don't take this chance, we'll always wonder what might have been.”

She's right. As usual. His mind made up, Harry closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing his lips to hers.

-NMM-

“About time you two got back. Up for a game of chess, Harry?”

“No, not right now, Ron,” Harry said, his anxiety back in full force. The moment he stepped through the portrait hole and saw Ron sitting on the couch in the common room, the elation he'd been feeling since kissing Hermione evaporated. Despite Hermione's assurances, he had a very bad feeling about what was about to happen.

“Actually, Ron, Harry and I have something we'd like to speak to you about,” Hermione said. “Could we go somewhere and talk?”

Ron's eyes suddenly narrowed, and he abruptly broke eye contact and stared at the wall. Harry's sense of foreboding went up a notch.

“Sure, I guess,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders while still not looking at either of his friends. “All of the 5th year boys are still down here, so we could just go up to our dorm.”

“OK, great,” Hermione said, her voice sounding overly enthusiastic to Harry's ears. It made him wonder if maybe she wasn't as confident about this as she'd let on. Still, they both knew it had to be done, and putting it off wouldn't help matters any.

Soon enough, the three of them made it to the otherwise empty dorm room. Ron and Harry sat down on their respective beds, and after a moment's hesitation, Hermione sat down beside her boyfriend. Ron raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

“Get on with it, then,” Ron said, sounding resigned and looking back and forth between them with an odd look on his face.

“Well, Hermione and I just had a talk, and we've decided that we're going to...”

“You're going to start dating,” Ron interrupted, his voice flat.

Harry suddenly found himself at a loss, so it was up to Hermione to jump in. “Yes, Ron, that's correct,” she said quietly. The conversation fell into a tense silence. Harry glanced over at Hermione, who looked uncomfortable but determined. She must have felt him looking at her, because she gave him a quick smile and briefly squeezed his hand. Ron's eyes darkened at that, and his knuckles turned white with the death grip he had on his bedspread.

“How did you know?” Harry couldn't help but ask, even though Hermione had insisted that Ron probably wouldn't be that surprised about their news.

“Oh, come off it, Harry,” Ron said. “Hermione might think I have the 'emotional range of a teaspoon', but I'm not stupid. I've seen this coming for awhile. Hermione probably has too.”

“I'd thought about it, yes, but I wasn't sure how Harry felt about me until recently,” Hermione affirmed.

“And then he said he thought you were pretty,” Ron put in, staring straight down at his bed.

“Right,” Hermione agreed quietly. “But Ron, this doesn't change anything--”

“Of course it bloody well changes things!” Ron exclaimed, shooting up off of his bed and onto his feet. “If you two are together, where does that leave me?”

“Where does it leave you?” Hermione repeated incredulously. “You're right where you've always been! Ron, you're our best friend and that's not going to change just because Harry and I are together.”

But Ron wasn't listening. He turned and marched away from them, his long legs taking him almost all the way out of the room before either Harry or Hermione could even react. Just before he reached the door, though, Harry spoke.

“C'mon, mate, don't be like this--”

“Just...just leave me alone for a bit, alright?” Ron requested, his back to his friends. “I need to be by myself for a while.”

“Ron--” Hermione pleaded, but Ron just shook his head.

“No, Hermione,” he said gruffly, leaving the dorm and heading down the stairs before anything more could be said.

Harry saw Hermione's shoulders slump as their friend left, and immediately decided that even if they'd only been together for a matter of minutes, it was still his duty as her boyfriend to try and cheer her up. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, and she turned her head towards him. She favoured him with a grateful smile before leaning in and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“That could have gone better,” Hermione said after they'd broken apart, smiling at him ruefully.

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry agreed, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “He'll come around, though. He always does.”

-NMM-

The days and weeks passed, but things still weren't truly back to normal with the trio. Ron had approached them the next day and apologized for his reaction, and the three of them had done their best to act as if things were perfectly fine between them. But they weren't. Things were awkward and tense, and Ron was clearly uncomfortable around his two friends. Harry wished he could ease the tension somehow, but Hermione correctly pointed out that as it was Ron with the problem, it was Ron who was going to have to adjust. The two of them were happy together, and if Ron was truly their friend, he'd eventually accept their relationship and stop letting it bother him.

Thankfully, Harry and Hermione's other friends didn't have such a negative reaction when they were told. Neville just grinned and slapped Harry across the back, Ginny smirked and subjected them both to some good-natured teasing, and Luna was, well, Luna.

It had been nearly a month since Harry and Hermione had gotten together, and Harry was hard-pressed to remember ever being happier. They had tried to keep their new relationship secret from the rest of the school for as long as they could, but the news inevitably got out. Much of the female population was disappointed that Hogwarts' resident celebrity was now taken, and most of the Slytherins in their year insulted the couple at every opportunity. On the whole, though, Harry was enjoying finally being a normal teenager for a change—or as close to normal as possible for someone fated to clash with the most evil wizard in at least a century.

But, as Harry was discovering, even being a normal teenager came with its own problems, which was why he found himself staying behind after Professor Lupin's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.

“Harry? Aren't you coming?” Hermione asked, looking confused as he remained in his seat. Even though he had a free period after Defence, he almost always walked her at least part of the way to Snape's dungeon.

“Nah, I've got something I wanna ask Remus about. I'll see you after you get out of Potions, alright?” Harry offered, running his hand through his hair nervously.

“Oh, OK, Harry,” Hermione said slowly. Harry could tell that she knew something was bothering him, but fortunately she didn't press him. She bent down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning and walking out the door. Harry's eyes followed her until she disappeared from sight, a goofy smile on his face.

“I know that look. Your father got that same look on his face whenever Lily was around.”

Harry was brought back from his daze by the voice, and looked up into the amused face of Remus Lupin. “Sorry about that, sir,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Nonsense, Harry. Do not apologize. I'm just happy you came to your senses where the wonderful Miss Granger is concerned.”

“Seems like everybody saw it coming except for me,” Harry grumbled, causing Remus to chuckle.

“That's often the way those things happen, despite your father's foresight regarding your mother,” Remus reasoned. “Now, was there something you needed, Harry?”

“It's...well, the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year is coming up...” Harry began, and Remus cocked his head at him in confusion.

“Is there some kind of problem? I was under the impression that Sirius signed your permission slip after your 3rd year,” Remus asked, frowning.

“No, that's not it,” Harry said, shaking his head. “It's just...this is going to be the first time me and Hermione are out of the castle, y'know, alone...”

“Ah, I see,” Remus said, his eyes brightening and smile widening as he understood what Harry was trying to ask. “You want some advice on what you should do with Hermione on a date.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, laughing nervously. “I've only ever been on one real date, and it was a disaster.”

“Oh, I'm sure you're exaggerating. It couldn't have been that bad,” Remus said, but Harry shook his head adamantly.

“Trust me, it was,” Harry insisted. “She got jealous when I mentioned I had plans to meet up with Hermione later, and she left in tears.”

“OK, maybe it was that bad,” Remus said, his lips twitching as he tried to contain his mirth. “Although it would seem that the young lady had reason to be concerned about your relationship with Hermione.”

“I didn't realize it at the time, but yeah, you're right. And that's exactly why I need your help. Hermione's not just some girl, she's...I really like her, you know? I want this to go well.”

“I understand, Harry. Let me ask you this: aside from the argument about Hermione, what else do you think went wrong on your first date?”

Harry paused to think for a moment, recalling that disaster of an afternoon with Cho. “Well, for one, we didn't really have anything to talk about aside from quidditch. And she took me to Madam Puddifoot's, which was this really awful tea shop. But maybe Hermione might want to go there, too? I mean, there were a lot of other couples in there.”

“Harry, it sounds to me like the two of you just didn't have very much in common. Fortunately for you, you already know this isn't the case with you and Hermione. You've known Hermione for years, and while she may not share your love of quidditch, I'm sure the two of you won't have any trouble finding other things to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “but what should we do? Should I take her to the tea shop? I might have felt ridiculous with the frilly decorations and the lacy napkins and the golden cherubs floating around and dumping confetti on people, but if Hermione wants to...”

Harry couldn't finish his thought, because his father's friend suddenly burst into laughter. He stared at the professor, waiting impatiently for him to stop laughing so he could answer his question, but the werewolf showed no signs of stopping. How much time passed, Harry could not say, but the former Marauder finally got himself under control.

“I'm sorry about that, Harry, but honestly, have you met Hermione? Do you actually think she'd have any interest in that sort of thing?” Remus asked, though it was clear what his opinion on the matter was.

“Maybe not, but I've never been on a date with her before. And I just got through telling you how bad my last one went. I just don't want to do anything to screw this up. That's why I came to you.”

“Harry, you know Hermione very well. Better than I do, certainly. There's nothing I can tell you about her that you don't already know. Don't over think this. Just have a good time, and be yourself. As long as she's spending time with you, I'm sure Hermione will enjoy herself.”

“Be myself? I think I can do that,” Harry said, relieved, as Remus chuckled.

-NMM-

“I thank you for your report, Severus. But I can't help but notice that you left out one piece of information.”

A kneeling Snape raised his bowed head, staring up at Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord looked down at him from his throne, but Snape could not tell whether or not he was angered by this supposed admission.

“Beg pardon, My Lord, but I'm not sure what you are speaking of,” Snape said, his voice calm and his face blank despite the fact that if he said one wrong word or showed the slightest hint of fear or guilt on his face, the tyrant seated above him could torture him to the brink of insanity in the blink of an eye. The life of a spy, he thought to himself, taking care to keep his mental shields in place.

“Many of my servants have passed on information given to them by their children from Hogwarts. It appears that Potter has followed in his father's footsteps and taken up with a Mudblood. Tell me, Severus--did you overlook this, or did you intentionally withhold it from me?”

No sense in denying any knowledge of Potter's relationship with Granger. If I can't notice what's right in front of me, what use am I to him? “I am sorry if I have displeased you, My Lord, but I did not believe that you would be interested in a silly teenage romance,” Snape said.

“Ordinarily, you'd be right. But Potter is no ordinary teenager. I want to be informed of any move he makes, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Do I make myself clear?” Voldemort said, his voice dangerously low.

“Perfectly, My Lord,” Snape said, bowing his head lower than he had all night. “But if I may be so bold, why are you so interested in this particular piece of news?”

“Questioning me? That is bold, Snape. I wouldn't tolerate such insolence from most of my other servants, but you have proven yourself most useful to me, so I will humour you. You have often told me how much the boy takes after his father, in deed as well as appearance.”

“Indeed,” Snape said with a sneer. “Potter is every bit the cocky braggart that his father was, despite Dumbledore's fondness for the brat.”

“Yes, but those weren't James Potter's only qualities. He was also a sentimental fool who let his emotions rule him. That is why he lost his life. A smart man would have handed the boy over to me the minute he learned of the prophecy, and saved his own life. But Potter defied me right to the end—his end. All for the love of a Mudblood and their whelp! And after being mentored by Dumbledore all these years, it's no surprise that his son has become an even greater fool.”

“You'll hear no argument from me, My Lord. But, begging your pardon, you already knew this about Potter.”

“Yes, I did, Severus. And I also knew of his close friendship with the Mudblood. Quite a stain on the magical community, that one. Not only has she sullied Hogwarts with her filthy blood, but she has the gall to receive the highest marks in her year? She is an insult to true wizards, and I always would have targeted her eventually, even if she had never spoken two words to Potter. But now, I believe it's time that we teach Potter a lesson through his precious Mudblood,” Voldemort explained, a maniacal grin on his snakelike face.

“You're planning to attack the Mudblood?” Snape asked, feeling his skin crawl as he uttered the word that had destroyed the one true friendship he'd ever had. “But she's at Hogwarts with Potter. If you're going to strike at Hogwarts itself, wouldn't it be easier to simply kill Potter and be done with it?”

“Now Severus, surely you don't expect me to reveal everything?” Voldemort asked, amusement shining in the red slits he called eyes. “I'll tell you more in due time, my friend. After all, you'll be a vital part of the plan.”

“Me, My Lord?” Snape asked, surprised. “You expect me to expose my true colours for an attack on someone as unimportant as Hermione Granger?”

“I expect you to do as you are commanded,” Voldemort snapped, causing Snape to flinch involuntarily. “That is all for now, Severus. I will contact you soon.”

Recognizing the dismissal, Snape bowed his head once more before rising and heading towards the door. Before he departed, Voldemort had one last instruction for him.

“Oh, and Severus? Be sure to tell Dumbledore all about our conversation. I want the old fool to know we are coming.”

-NMM-

“Ready, Harry?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said with a grin, feeling butterflies in his stomach at the thought that he and Hermione were about to go on their first true date.

Thankfully, Ron had had the sense to know they'd want to be alone, and mentioned that he'd made plans to spend the day with Seamus since Seamus' best mate Dean would be off somewhere enjoying the day with Ginny. With their best friend doing his own thing, Harry and Hermione had the whole day to themselves.

“Where would you like to go first?” Harry asked soon after they made it to the village.

“Well...I was hoping to have a quick look in Scrivenshaft's, and maybe also the book store, if that's OK,” Hermione said softly.

Harry could tell she was nervous too, and somehow, that knowledge allowed him to relax a bit. “That's just fine, Hermione. We can go wherever you like. I know I'll have a good time as long was we're together,” he assured her, smiling.

Harry felt like quite the cornball as the words left his mouth, but it was apparently the right thing to say, because Hermione's face broke out in a wide smile. She gave him a peck on the lips and slipped her hand into his, gently steering him towards Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

In stark contrast to his one date with Cho, things actually went well for Harry this time. Taking Remus' advice to heart, he just relaxed and enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with the most important person in his life. They had a wonderful time strolling through the village hand in hand, and stopped in any shops that interested either of them.

After Harry patiently accompanied Hermione in Scrivenshaft's and the book store, she did the same as Harry indulged himself inside Honeydukes and Zonko's. They didn't see Ron and Seamus at any point, which privately pleased Harry given the circumstances. They did run into Ginny and Dean, and after the redhead got off a few light-hearted wisecracks at the expense of the “Gryffindor Golden Couple”, the four of them entered The Three Broomsticks for a bite. Interestingly, Neville and Luna were seated together, but they invited the foursome to join them. Together, the six of them had an enjoyable lunch.

It was after lunch, when the six students broke off into pairs once more, that things took a rather unpleasant turn for Harry and Hermione. They were walking through the village hand in hand, and eventually ditched the packed High Street for a more sparsely visited side street. It was while walking along that path that they spotted Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy standing in seclusion beside an abandoned shop building. They were facing each other, and if their body language was any indication, they were engaged in a very heated discussion. Harry took a step towards them, but Hermione put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Harry, what are you doing?” she hissed. “Professor Snape will be very upset if he catches you eavesdropping on his conversation!”

Rather than turning to look at her, Harry stared at his two least favourite people in Hogwarts, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Harry, what's--” Hermione began in hushed tones, but Harry held up a hand.

“Quiet, Hermione. Do you hear that?”

“That buzzing sound?” Hermione whispered after she'd done as Harry asked. “What about it?”

“We're close enough to Snape and Malfoy that we should at least be able to hear them talking, even if we couldn't understand what they were saying. But all I can hear is that buzzing.”

“I guess you're right,” Hermione agreed. “Perhaps Professor Snape used some kind of privacy spell?”

“And don't you think that's strange?” Harry persisted. “I don't trust Snape, I don't care what Dumbledore says. And we both know that Malfoy's a foul git just like his father. I have a feeling they're up to something.”

Before Hermione could reply, Malfoy stormed off in the opposite direction. After shaking his head in obvious disgust, Snape waved his wand in front of him and tucked it back away before he began walking towards them. Hermione motioned to Harry that they should start walking away, but they only managed a few steps before Snape cut them off.

“Going somewhere, Potter?”

Harry and Hermione froze as the potions master approached them, looking perturbed.

“Oh, and Miss Granger is with you as well. How charming. Do you always bring your female companions along with you when you attempt to eavesdrop on the private conversations of others?”

“We weren't—”

“Do not lie to me, Potter,” Snape snapped. “You are every bit as meddlesome as your father and his friends were. Unfortunately for you, I am not so easy to spy on.”

“Fine, then,” Harry mumbled. “Sure didn't look like Malfoy was very happy with whatever you two were talking about.”

“What we discussed, and how Mister Malfoy reacted, is none of your concern,” Snape said, his voice dangerously low.

Harry took a cautious step back, nudging Hermione so she was standing behind him, and lowered his hand to his wand. Rather than reaching for his own wand, Snape sneered at the son of his boyhood nemesis.

“Quite foolish, Potter,” he said. “Not to mention pointless. If I had truly wished to harm you, you would have been incapacitated before you'd even known you were in danger.”

“Guess I'll need to get better, then,” Harry retorted, ignoring Hermione's tug on his sleeve.

“You will indeed, Chosen One,” Snape snarled. “Be cautioned, Potter: the next time you reach for your wand around me, I may not be so forgiving.”

Harry fumed at that, but before he could reply, Snape's right hand suddenly dropped to clutch at his sleeve. Specifically, the sleeve of his left forearm.

“Your arm,” Hermione gasped, “that's--”

“The Dark Mark, yes,” Snape said through gritted teeth. “The Headmaster must be informed, but I have no time. Find McGonagall, Flitwick or Sprout; all should be in the village, and can contact him swiftly. Do you understand?”

Harry and Hermione nodded, bewildered, just before Snape disappeared with a pop.

-NMM-

“Ah, Severus. Just in time.”

“I am yours to command, My Lord,” Snape said as he knelt in front of the Dark Lord.

“And so I shall. Rise, Snape.” Snape did as he was bid, rising to his feet and taking a cursory glance around at the others who were currently gathered beside the throne in the Dark Lord's latest safe house. Bellatrix, ever the devoted servant, was right by her master's side, staring at him suspiciously. Nothing new there; she has made her distrust of me abundantly clear. Wormtail was also there, cowering in a corner like the spineless coward he was. The true surprise was the presence of Charles Goyle, father of Hogwarts student and Draco Malfoy flunky Gregory Goyle. Odd; the Dark Lord rarely relies on that buffoon for anything.

“So, Snape, did you do as I commanded during our last meeting? Did you tell Dumbledore what we discussed?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Snape said. “I told Dumbledore about your intentions towards the Granger girl, and also that you gave me specific instructions to do so.”

“And? How did the old fool react?” the Dark Lord asked, his cold red eyes seeming to peer into Snape's very soul.

“His feeling is that you were merely trying to run a diversion. He thinks you wanted him to focus on protecting Granger and the other Hogwarts students against the threat of an attack so you could strike elsewhere.”

“Of course he does. I expected nothing less. But, being the emotional weakling that he is, he no doubt took measures to protect the Mudblood nevertheless. And, this being a Hogsmeade weekend, I assume he has increased security in the village?”

“Yes. He has stationed many of his more capable professors throughout the village, though he himself remained in the castle,” Snape confirmed. “Also, regrettably, Potter and Granger were nearby when you summoned me to your side. Potter is obviously familiar with the Dark Mark and how it works, so I think you can expect Hogsmeade to be on high alert.”

To his surprise, the Dark Lord did not appear perturbed by that last piece of information. “That is of no consequence, Severus. That may work out even better, in fact.”

“Am I to assume we will not be attacking Hogsmeade, then?” Severus dared to ask, ignoring the outraged shriek Bellatrix gave at the audacity he'd shown by questioning their master.

“Yes, Snape,” the Dark Lord confirmed, also ignoring the fuming witch. “I'm sure that doesn't surprise you, or Dumbledore either, for that matter. But he won't be willing to take the chance, not with his precious students potentially in danger. That will give us the time that we need.”

“Very wise indeed, My Lord. I shall be glad to carry out whatever task you require of me,” Snape said.

“I'm glad to hear that, Snape,” the Dark Lord said, a sadistic smile on his face. “I think you will enjoy your assignment. You see, I wasn't lying the last time we spoke. Not truly. While Bellatrix and I have our own, more important task to take care of, we are still going to inflict a blow on Potter's filthy Mudblood. To be more precise, you and Goyle will strike the blow on my behalf.”

“I do not understand, My Lord,” Snape said, truly confused. “You wish for Goyle and I to attack Granger?”

“Yes, Snape. But not Hermione Granger. No, you are going to bring me the heads of her filthy Muggle parents.”

-->

12. 12. Up in Flames

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 12: Up in Flames

“So you're telling me that Voldemort told Snape he was going to come after Hermione, you knew about it, and didn't tell her?” Harry hissed, his fists clenched as he glared at his Headmaster. Dumbledore sighed and nodded.

“Yes, Harry, that is correct, but--”

“Don't try and talk your way out of this,” Harry spat. “You promised that you would tell us whenever you learned something important about Voldemort or the war, but you sure as hell don't seem to be keeping that promise. And this concerns Hermione directly!”

“You are quite right, Harry,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I should have told you, regardless of my feeling that this was merely a ploy on Voldemort's part. I wanted the two of you to enjoy your visit to Hogsmeade, and not have to worry about a potential threat that I did not believe would materialize. But that does not excuse the fact that I promised to keep you informed, and failed to do so. I apologize.”

Harry wasn't anywhere near satisfied with that, but Hermione held up a hand to forestall him so she could speak instead. “So what happens next?” she asked.

“Thanks to Professor Snape being able to warn you before he departed, we are taking every precaution possible. Various members of the faculty are escorting the rest of the students back here to the castle as we speak, and are prepared to defend them should any Death Eaters show up in the village. Also, given his precarious political standing, Minister Fudge was more than happy to loan me some of his aurors. To be perfectly honest, though, I still do not anticipate any attack on either the village or the castle at this time,” Dumbledore explained.

“Why is that?” Harry asked, his need for answers overriding his anger with the Headmaster for the time being. “I don't know about you, but I think Voldemort is arrogant enough to tell you exactly what he plans to do, and then attempt to do it. He's not exactly subtle.”

“Perhaps not. There is no denying his vanity, though he can be quite clever when he chooses to be,” Dumbledore agreed. “However, I do not think he would undertake an operation as big as a direct attack on Hogsmeade or Hogwarts purely to harm Hermione. She is not important enough in the grand scheme of his campaign, no offence intended, Miss Granger.”

“None taken,” Hermione said with a nod. “You're right. If he were going to attack us here, he'd be going after either you or Harry. Or both of you.”

“Precisely,” Dumbledore nodded. “Voldemort is clearly up to something today, but I don't believe you are in any danger, Miss Granger.”

Relieved, Harry settled back into his chair and exhaled. But things were about to get much, much worse.

One of the many instruments located on Dumbledore's desk began beeping. Harry saw the look of concern cross Dumbledore's face, and knew something was terribly wrong.

“What is it?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Something has tripped the wards we discreetly placed on your parents' property following Voldemort's return, Hermione. Your home is likely under attack.”

-NMM-

Scant moments later, Dumbledore had apparated all three of them just outside the wards that the Order had placed around the Granger property. The moment they landed, they witnessed a most horrifying sight.

The Grangers' home was engulfed in flames.

“MUM! DAD!” Hermione screamed, and she took a few tottering steps towards the house she'd grown up in.

“Stop, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said sharply. She gave no sign that she'd heard him and took four more steps, picking up speed as reality set in.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, wanting to help his girlfriend but having no idea how to do so.

“Harry, you must hold her back,” Dumbledore said beseechingly. “I have to get closer so I can quickly analyse the situation before the muggle response team arrives, but I need the two of you to stay well away in case the flames react to my presence.”

Harry nodded and rushed forward. He wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist and halted her unsteady march towards her house. She tried to fight him off, but he doggedly held on, using his larger frame to restrain her despite her struggles. He held her back tightly to his chest as Dumbledore hurried towards the flaming house.

A few of the neighbours who happened to be at home began to come outside once they realised what was happening, but Dumbledore ignored both their presence and the Statute of Secrecy for the sake of urgency.

Dumbledore's wand was in his hand as he paced around the perimeter of the house. He waved it back and forth swiftly every so often, but the flames did not abate in the least. If Dumbledore was attempting to put the fire out, he was failing.

Dumbledore soon tucked his wand away and hurried back the way he'd come, as Harry and Hermione watched him intently. Neither teen missed the grave look on their headmaster's face. Hermione trembled in her boyfriend's arms, and Harry squeezed her tighter.

“Aside from the three of us, there are no living life forms in or around the house,” Dumbledore announced once he'd rejoined them. Hermione sobbed and went limp in Harry's arms, and his tight grip around her waist was the only thing that kept her from falling to the ground. Knowing that his girlfriend was in no state to speak coherently, it fell to Harry to ask the question.

“You mean...” he whispered, but Dumbledore held up his hand.

“We must not jump to any conclusions, Harry,” he said firmly, while pulling a knut from the pocket of his robes. “All we know for certain is that there are no signs of life. Now, it is important that I alter the memories of the surrounding muggles before their emergency response teams arrive. I must request that you and Hermione take this portkey back to Hogwarts. I will join you shortly.”

“But I want to help--” Harry protested, but Dumbledore cut him off.

“There is nothing you can do, Harry. Her neighbours are sure to know that Hermione attends a boarding school, so she must not be here once the authorities arrive. It will create complications that we do not need right now.”

“But--”

“Hermione needs you, Harry. Please, take her away.”

Harry nodded reluctantly, and unhooked his right arm from around Hermione's waist in order to accept the knut that Dumbledore was holding out to him. He grabbed the knut with his right hand, and gave Hermione a reassuring squeeze with his other arm as the two of them were portkeyed back to Dumbledore's office.

-NMM-

As soon as their feet touched the ground, Hermione sagged into Harry's waiting arms. She buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed, soaking his shirt with her tears. As Harry rubbed his hands up her back soothingly, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed that they were not alone in the office.

“Where's Dumbledore?!” Nymphadora Tonks asked urgently, rushing towards them, her face pale and anxious. Hermione reluctantly extricated herself from Harry's arms, though she stayed close by his side and gripped his hand tightly.

“He's still at Hermione's house—there's a fire,” Harry said quietly. Hermione took a ragged breath next to him, and Harry gave her hand a squeeze, letting her know that he was still thinking of her. But the look on Tonks' face gave Harry a very uneasy feeling.

“What's wrong, Tonks? Did something happen?” Hermione asked, her voice choked with tears.

“I've just got word that the Death Eaters have appeared in Diagon Alley!”

--NMM--

Bill Weasley was not a stranger to danger. When one becomes a curse breaker, danger is accepted and acknowledged as part of the job. Even so, nothing could have prepared him for this.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank was under attack. Throughout the bank, the mostly goblin staff was trying to shore up the bank's defences and organize a counter-attack, or at the least, a defence strong enough to hold them off until help could arrive. Bill admired their resolve, but it was clear to him that the situation was dire. The Death Eaters were out en masse, and they were being hit hard. Gringotts was one of the most secure institutions in the wizarding world, but it had never before faced such a brazen all-out assault. Despite their best efforts, they were losing, and losing badly.

Bill was not a wealthy man by any means, but at that moment, he would have given every last hard-earned knut simply to live out the day and find himself back in the arms of his beautiful fiancÃ©. Unfortunately, he had to admit that the odds of that happening were looking quite grim. Still, he was at least able to take solace in the fact that Fleur hadn't been working at the bank on this fateful day. She was out with her mother, doing some shopping and making plans for their wedding.

A wedding that we'll never get to have unless I make it out of here alive, he reminded himself. With that thought in mind, Bill clutched his wand tighter and narrowed his eyes as he spotted a pair of masked Death Eaters walking down the corridor and towards him. He snarled, popped out from behind the wall he'd been using as cover, and fired off a powerful cutting curse at the Eater on the left before he'd even managed to react. The robed figure let out a surprised grunt and clutched at his neck, trying to staunch the flow of crimson.

Knowing that the first Eater was disposed of, Bill focused his efforts on his companion. The Eater fired off a red curse that he did not recognize, so Bill rolled to the side to avoid it before returning fire with a blasting curse that caught his opponent in the stomach. The man tumbled to the floor in a heap, and Bill concealed himself behind cover once more while keeping his eyes peeled for any other threats.

Before long, another robed figure appeared in the corridor beyond, walking the same path as the two he'd just dispatched. Once again, Bill darted out from behind cover and launched a pre-emptive strike. He cast the same cutting curse that had made a messy end of the first Eater, but this time the curse was deflected with ease, and the robed figure continued striding towards him. Undeterred, Bill stepped to the side and gripped his wand securely, his next spell on the tip of his tongue. Before he could cast, the intruder got close enough for Bill to get a clear look at him, and his incantation died in his throat.

The Dark Lord was walking towards him, his red eyes shining and his unnatural snake-like face twisted in a grotesque grin.

“Not bad,” Voldemort said, nodding in Bill's direction. “You didn't waste time with silly disarming spells, at least, which is more than I can say for most of the fools I've crossed wands with over the years. Unfortunately for you, it's going to take quite a bit more than that to get the better of me.”

Bill shook himself out of his stupor and pointed his wand at the Dark Lord, but with one simple careless wave of Voldemort's wand, he was forced to his knees. He tried to train his wand on Voldemort in order to fire off a hex, but found that he no longer had any control of his body. Voldemort slowly walked up to him and casually took the wand from his hand, shaking his head.

“I'm afraid I cannot allow that, but I admire your spirit. What is your name?” Voldemort asked, inspecting Bill's wand and not even looking at him.

“Bill Weasley,” he replied, doing his best to sound calm, collected and defiant. The Dark Lord's unnatural eyes narrowed as he gave him his name.

“Ah, one of Arthur Weasley's brood? I should have suspected. It is rather unfortunate that your family has betrayed true wizards in order to side with the dregs of magical society. Even more unfortunate that your youngest brother has become so attached to Harry Potter. But it is not too late for you, Bill Weasley.”

“What do you mean?” Bill said slowly, nonplussed.

“Your family may be blood traitors, and your brother may be Harry Potter's best friend. But you are not your ancestors, nor are you your brother. You showed great courage in standing up to me, and judging by the pair of corpses littering this very room, you have ample knowledge and power as well. I could use more men like you, Bill Weasley. Join me, and help me give this decaying world the revolution it sorely needs.”

“You want me to become a Death Eater,” Bill said, more to himself than anything, hardly believing that the words had come out of his mouth.

“Of course,” Voldemort said, nodding. “Our world is in a dire state, and you should know that better than most. It must bring you great shame to work here at Gringotts, having to bow your head to these filthy goblins. Wouldn't you like to remind them of their proper role—servitude?”

“Servitude? Like house elves, you mean?”

“They won't be given the same tasks to accomplish, but yes,” Voldemort agreed. “A bit of that elvish devotion will make the goblins far more useful. Once I have taken this country over, I will put them in their place.”

“So I guess you think all non-humans should spend their lives as slaves, doing all they can to please their human masters?” Bill said, his face turning red with anger.

“Why, yes,” Voldemort said, either not noticing the look on Bill's face, or simply not caring. “What else are they good for?”

Bill's eyes flashed, but Voldemort had already turned away from him as a witch approached. She removed her mask, and Bill could make out enough of her features from his vantage point over the Dark Lord's shoulder to recognize her as Bellatrix Lestrange, the psychotic witch that had killed Sirius Black. Bellatrix began conversing with her master, but they were speaking too quietly for Bill to understand. With this time to himself, Bill eventually noticed that he had full control of his body once more, and he briefly entertained the idea of attacking Voldemort while his attention was diverted. But with his wand in Voldemort's possession and no other weapon readily available to him, he knew that it would be a futile act.

“What about veela?” Bill asked, raising his voice loud enough to be sure Voldemort could hear him despite his conversation with Bellatrix.

“What's that? Veela, you say?” Voldemort said, sounding bored and not bothering to turn back around to look at Bill. “I've never had much use for them myself, but I suppose they serve their purpose well enough. They were a very popular form of entertainment amongst my followers during our previous revolution, even if I never saw the appeal. Why? Would you like one, Weasley?”

“Would I like one?” Bill repeated, seething.

“Yes. One to warm your bed, perhaps? I shall make you a deal: join me, and the first veela we capture will be yours to do with as you please.”

Wand or no wand, there was no way Bill could restrain himself after a comment like that. He rose to his feet and lunged at the Dark Lord from behind, hoping to catch him by surprise before he or Bellatrix could get a spell off. He closed the gap quickly and narrowed his eyes, zeroed in on the back of Voldemort's head, envisioned grabbing it in his hands and snapping his neck before the Dark Lord even knew what was happening...

And then, almost too quickly for Bill's eyes to follow, Voldemort turned. The Dark Lord raised his wand, and with one casual flick of the wrist, a wedding was cancelled.

-NMM-

By the time Albus Dumbledore returned to his office, it was too late to do anything to counteract Lord Voldemort's swift strike on Diagon Alley, and more specifically Gringotts. All that was left for him to do was assess the damage.

He wasn't sure if it had been Voldemort's intention for him to learn about the assault on the Granger home, or if it had just been a coincidence, but it had worked to the Dark Lord's favour in any case. With Dumbledore out of the picture and his staff and the aurors Fudge had loaned him busy ensuring that the students made it back from Hogsmeade safely, it had fallen solely to the remainder of the auror department to respond to the attack. Unfortunately, that department had been sorely neglected and underfunded during the bulk of Minister Fudge's reign. With that problem compounded by some of their best being stationed in Hogsmeade for the day, they were no match for such a sudden and overwhelming assault. The Death Eaters managed to strike their true target, and strike it hard.

The brunt of the attack had been aimed straight at Gringotts, and with good reason. The managers at Gringotts remembered full well how much damage Voldemort's last war had done to both the economy and their own bottom line, and had no desire to see history repeat itself. Thus, once Voldemort's return had become public knowledge, the goblins had begun instituting radical new measures that financially handcuffed anyone found to be willingly serving the Dark Lord. Following his arrest in the Department of Mysteries, Lucius Malfoy had been hit hard by these measures. This served as a deterrent to some of Voldemort's other wealthy followers, to say nothing of the fact that with Lucius' funds unavailable to him, the Dark Lord had lost his single biggest source of gold.

Despite his rhetoric about blood purity and wizards holding dominion over all, Tom Riddle was too intelligent not to realise that for many of his followers, there was no greater motivation than avarice. Now he had gold aplenty—possibly even more than he'd had at his disposal in the last war. He didn't have a bank to put it in, perhaps, but Albus didn't think he would need one. No, that gold was going to be put to immediate use.

Dumbledore suspected that the Dark Lord was about to significantly bolster his ranks.

-NMM-

“Rise, Severus.”

Snape got up off of his knees and back onto his feet, making sure that his head remained bowed in deference.

“So, Severus, I see that you have returned as commanded. And yet, Charles Goyle is not with you. Would you care to explain his absence?”

“My Lord,” he began, eyes fixed on the floor, “I am afraid that our task was not completed as planned.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“When we arrived at the muggles' home, Goyle was a bit...overeager, shall we say? He set some curtains on fire, but he had no control over the flames. They quickly grew out of control and spread throughout the house. I was forced to abort the mission and apparate away. Goyle was not so lucky.”

“I see,” the Dark Lord said, his mood impossible for Snape to read. “We both know that Goyle was an incompetent fool, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Were the mudblood's parents engulfed in the fire as well, at least?”

“I'm not sure, My Lord. The flames spread before we could locate them, or confirm they were indeed inside the house. I offer my profound apologies for my failure, and am prepared to accept any punishment you deem appropriate,” Snape finished, bowing his head even closer to the ground.

“That will not be necessary, Severus,” Voldemort said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Your mission was hardly an essential one. If the muggles were burned to death, excellent. And even if they weren't, the destruction of their home should still serve as a fitting example to what happens to those who throw in their lot with Dumbledore and Potter.”

“That is most kind, My Lord,” Snape said, surprised at how little his revelation seemed to bother the Dark Lord.

“Think nothing of it. Despite your failure, the day was still most successful. Our assault on Gringotts was flawless,” Voldemort said with a twisted grin.

“Gringotts? So that was the true objective?” Snape questioned.

“Yes,” Voldemort confirmed. “Those disgusting goblins have been quite a nuisance since Lucius failed me in the Department of Mysteries. Thankfully, that will no longer be a concern. We left the bank with enough gold to fund our revolution indefinitely.”

“That is very good news, My Lord,” Snape agreed. “I offer my congratulations on your success. However, if I may be so bold...why was I not informed of the full extent of your plan?”

“You--” Bellatrix snarled from beside her master, but Voldemort beckoned for her to be quiet. Like an obedient animal, Bellatrix immediately fell silent.

“Do not misunderstand me, Severus. I do not doubt your loyalty. I simply couldn't risk Dumbledore learning my true target. The old man is crafty, and he may well have been able to weasel the information out of you without you even knowing.”

“I understand, My Lord,” Snape said, “but why was I not included in the assault on Gringotts once I arrived? Surely the attack would have run even more smoothly had you included me.” Voldemort's eyes narrowed, and Snape realised too late that he'd gone a step too far in his efforts to ensure he remained in the loop.

“You were not included because you were not needed, Snape. I judged that we had strength enough to make our mark before leaving with an ample supply of gold, and I was correct,” Voldemort said, his voice dangerously low.

“Of course, My Lord, I did not mean--” Snape began, but the Dark Lord cut him off.

“You are one of my most intelligent and cunning followers, so I allow you to speak more freely than most,” Voldemort explained. “However, openly doubting my planning and decision-making in the manner you just did will not be tolerated. I trust that you will keep this in mind in the future, because I would hate to have to remind you again. I'm sure you would hate it, too,” he added, and Snape had no trouble grasping the thinly veiled threat.

“Indeed, My Lord,” Snape said, dropping back down to his knees and bowing so low that his face touched the floor. “My deepest apologies. It will not happen again, I assure you.”

Snape paused, head against the cold floor, and waited for the Dark Lord to reply. He heard Bellatrix cackling at his dilemma, but knew better than to respond at this point. All that mattered was recovering from his faux pas and redeeming himself in the Dark Lord's eyes. He was of no use to anyone otherwise, least of all himself.

“Very well, Severus. See that it doesn't happen again,” Voldemort said at last. “You are dismissed.”

Snape exhaled, slowly pulled himself to his feet and departed, counting himself fortunate that he'd avoided the Cruciatus.

-NMM-

With everyone having been rushed back from Hogsmeade and straight to their common rooms, the corridors of Hogwarts were virtually deserted as Harry and Hermione slowly walked hand in hand to Gryffindor Tower. They walked in silence, their footsteps all that could be heard in the empty halls.

“Dumbledore better tell us the second he hears something about your parents,” Harry said, his tone equal parts anger and worry.

“He will,” Hermione said softly, absent-mindedly running her left hand across her eyes, which were reddened and puffy from crying.

“He didn't tell us about Voldemort and Snape's little chat where they plotted to attack you,” Harry pointed out, eyes flashing at the memory. Hermione acknowledged this point with a nod.

“You're right. And we can press him more about that later. But he knows we're going to be waiting anxiously for any news about mum and dad, and he has to know that if he learns something and either hides it or delays in telling us, he'll lose us for good. We both know he can be manipulative and deceitful, but look at this logically, Harry. He has absolutely nothing to gain by being dishonest about this, but everything to lose.”

“I guess you're right,” Harry conceded, then turned his head to look at her more closely. “Merlin, Hermione, I don't know how you can think straight right now.”

“It's not easy,” Hermione admitted, and she felt comfortable pressure on her right hand as Harry gave it a sympathetic squeeze.

“I really cant imagine it,” Harry continued. “I know how I got when I was worried about Sirius, and I'd only known him for a couple of years. Your parents have always been there for you.”

Hermione nodded and blinked rapidly, trying to hold back a fresh batch of tears. She was too choked up to say anything in response, so Harry said nothing further. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close enough for their sides to touch. Hermione sighed and leaned in even closer to him, relishing the comfort of his touch.

They remained like that for the rest of their walk, until they made it to their destination and gave the Fat Lady the password. Harry stepped through the portrait hole and held out his hand to assist Hermione, who accepted it gratefully. Before the portrait had even swung shut behind them, Ron came rushing forward to greet them.

“Where have you guys been?” Ron asked, sounding relieved to see them.

“We were with Dumbledore,” Harry said. He shared a significant look with Hermione, and they reached a silent agreement. “Listen, Ron, we've got something to tell you,” Harry said quietly. “And Ginny should probably come too,” he added.

Ron seemed to sense that this was important, so he nodded in consent. He caught Ginny's eye and motioned for her to follow them, and she did so after sharing a quick kiss with Dean. Together, the four of them went up to the 6th year boy's dorms, which were otherwise empty, giving them plenty of privacy. Harry sat on his bed, and Hermione sat down next to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“So what's up?” Ron asked them after he'd made himself comfortable on his own bed. Hermione could hear the uncertainty in his voice, and her throat tightened. She was not looking forward to this. Still, it had to be done, and better they hear it here and now.

“Ron, Ginny, the Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley today,” Hermione explained, holding her breath as she waited for her red-haired friends to react.

Ron looked confused at first, but the reality of the situation soon struck him, and his eyes widened. Ginny was quicker to catch on, as she gasped and brought a hand to her mouth.

“Fred and George!” she sobbed, but Harry quickly shook his head.

“We're pretty sure they're OK,” Harry assured her. “Their shop wasn't targeted.”

Ginny sighed in relief at that, but it didn't take long for her to realise that Harry and Hermione still looked grim. She tensed, waiting for them to elaborate, but it was actually Ron who spoke.

“Gringotts. Bill,” he said flatly. Hermione nodded and closed her eyes, unwilling to witness the pain she knew her affirmation would cause. She heard one of the beds creak and reluctantly opened her eyes to see that Ginny had plopped herself down beside Ron, and was instinctively clutching his hand.

“B-Bill...did he...” Ginny began, but Harry shrugged helplessly.

“Dumbledore didn't have any information on injuries or casualties yet,” Harry said as gently as he could manage. “They're still sorting out the damage. Gringotts apparently got hit pretty bad though.”

Ron nodded, and Hermione's lip quivered at the dazed expression on his face. Looking at Ginny's watering eyes and trembling face wasn't any easier Hermione understood the emotions her red haired friends were experiencing all too well; she was experiencing them herself. It was a cruel sort of torture, not knowing whether someone you love is alive or dead.

“So, did they only attack Gringotts, then?” Ron asked, and Hermione could see that he was keeping his mind busy to prevent himself from panicking.

“They did some damage throughout Diagon Alley, and killed some people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the information Dumbledore got said that Gringotts was clearly their target,” Harry explained.

“They also burned my house down,” Hermione added quietly, and Ron's wide eyes met hers.

“Your parents?” he asked, sounding pained.

“We don't know yet,” Harry answered. “We apparated there with Dumbledore, and he said that there wasn't anyone alive in the house. Dumbledore wanted us to get out of there before the firemen showed up, but he's going to let us know as soon as he hears anything. Hopefully they weren't home at the time.”

“I'm sorry, Hermione,” Ron said as he got up off of his bed. He quickly walked over to Harry's bed and extended his hand to Hermione, who accepted it and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She let out a surprised squeak as Ron, usually so reserved and hesitant to touch her, put his arms around her waist and gave her a hug strong enough to make his mother proud. She returned the embrace tightly, content to both comfort and be comforted by her friend.

Ron's ears reddened as he shot a nervous glance at Harry, and he probably would have let go of Hermione if she hadn't tightened her own grip on him, unwilling to be separated from him just yet. Things had been incredibly awkward between the three of them since she and Harry had become a couple, and she'd missed her friend.

Thankfully, Harry understood perfectly. He raised no objections to the embrace between his best mate and his girlfriend, and in fact rose to join them. Harry wrapped Hermione in his own hug, pressing his chest into her back and resting his head on her shoulder. Hermione sighed, perfectly content to be held by her two boys: her best friend, and her love.

Hermione was familiar with the idea that grief brings people together, and she could feel it happening at that very moment. She didn't yet know if her parents had escaped that fire, or if Ron's brother Bill had been injured or killed during the assault on Gringotts. But she could feel the strained relationship between the trio repairing itself, and she could be thankful for that if nothing else.

Hermione was so caught up in their reconciliation with Ron that she was oblivious to everything else, so it came as quite a shock when someone else cleared their throat to gain their attention. Hermione, startled, spun around to see Professor McGonagall looking at her.

“S-sorry, Professor McGonagall, I didn't hear you come in,” Hermione rambled, but her Head of House waived her off.

“Do not worry yourself, Miss Granger. The Headmaster asked me to escort you back to his office,” McGonagall said. Hermione gasped, realising that there was likely only one reason Dumbledore would call for her at the moment.

“My parents! Did he say anything? Are they OK?” Hermione asked, rapid-fire, but McGonagall shook her head.

“He did not give me any details, Miss Granger. He merely contacted me via floo and asked me to bring you to him,” McGonagall explained patiently.

“I see,” Hermione said. “W-would it be alright if Harry and Ron came with me?” she asked, hesitant to face this potentially devastating meeting by herself.

“I don't see why not,” McGonagall decided after a moment. “If the Headmaster wishes to speak to you alone, he can always send Mister Potter and Mister Weasley away himself. Now, if you are ready, we can depart.”

Hermione nodded, relieved that no matter what happened, her boys would be there beside her.

“Let's go,” she said, her voice trembling despite herself. As she stepped forward, she felt Harry grab her right hand, and Ron, after a brief hesitation and an encouraging nod from Harry, took her left. Emboldened by their support, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come.

A/N: This chapter is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Mother of God, I've actually finished this chapter! Better late than never, right?

I know, I know: it was positively evil of me to leave the Granger parents cliffhanger unresolved after such a long wait. But never fear; their fates will be revealed in the next chapter, I assure you. Now let's just hope it doesn't take me almost nine months to finish THAT one...

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13. 13. Resolve

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 13: Resolve

“Ready, Hermione?”

“Not really,” Hermione said, giving her boyfriend a tremulous smile, “but we might as well get this over with, right?” She took a deep breath and followed Professor McGonagall into Headmaster Dumbledore's office, drawing courage and comfort from Harry and Ron, both of whom were clutching one of her hands in support. She walked into the office and gasped at what she saw.

There, huddled close together on a couch and looking straight back at her were her parents, Richard and Jane Granger. They looked exhausted, frightened and dishevelled, but very much alive.

Hermione let out a squeal of joy, breaking off from Harry and Ron so she could rush towards her parents. They stood to greet her, and her father opened his arms in invitation. Hermione gladly accepted, burying her face in his shoulder and allowing him to wrap his arms around her.

“Hello, poppet,” her father said warmly.

“Oh, daddy, I'm so glad to see you,” Hermione said with a sniffle. “I was so worried about you guys.” Her dad held her tighter as she trembled with relief.

“We're fine, dear,” her mum reassured her as she bent to plant a kiss in Hermione's hair.

“I-I saw the house,” Hermione said quietly as she pulled back to look at her parents. “Were you guys out, or...”

“No, we were home,” her dad answered. “Your professor, Snape, saved us.”

“SNAPE?!” Harry and Ron bellowed in unison, astonished.

“Indeed, Professor Snape escorted Mister and Missus Granger to safety,” Dumbledore said from his seat behind his desk, a familiar twinkle in his eye. “After leaving them in a secure location while he attended to some important business, he then brought them here, and I in turn summoned Miss Granger for this happy reunion.”

“I...think we're going to need a bit more explanation than that,” Hermione said, nearly as surprised as her two friends were. Behind her, Harry and Ron nodded fervently.

“Yes, feel free to share your story, Mister and Missus Granger,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “Before you do, however, why don't you all have a seat and make yourselves comfortable?”

Hermione's parents sat back down on the couch they'd been sitting on when the teens arrived, and Hermione, wishing to be as close to them as possible at the moment, claimed a spot in between them. Dumbledore quickly conjured a pair of chairs for Harry and Ron, who plopped down and prepared to listen. Once he saw that everyone was settled in and looking at he and his wife expectantly, Hermione's father started the tale.

“We were relaxing in the sitting room when two men in black robes and masks, your professor and another, broke down the front door and burst inside,” Richard began.

“The other man was Charles Goyle, father of your schoolmate Gregory,” Dumbledore supplied before anyone could inquire about his identity. “Lord Voldemort summoned Professor Snape, as you know, and charged he and Goyle with murdering your parents.” Hermione shuddered involuntarily at those words, but calmed slightly when she felt her mum lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. She gave herself a mental shake and turned her head to listen as her father continued.

“The other man, upon seeing us, immediately started shouting at us, threatening to kill us, et cetera. I stood up and pulled Jane behind me so I could protect her, but I knew it was probably going to end badly when I saw he had a wand. No matter how fast I would have moved, I was too far away to get to him before he would have been able to fire a spell at me. I probably would have tried it anyway, but before either of us could make a move, your professor hit the other wizard from behind with a spell to the back and knocked him out.”

“A standard stunning spell,” Dumbledore broke in to add. “Goyle never sat it coming.”

“So Snape's on our side after all?” Ron said, almost to himself.

“He is indeed, Mister Weasley,” Dumbledore said with a nod and a smile. “I have long insisted that I have the utmost faith in Severus, and I would hope that after today, all of you will share that trust.”

“Yeah, I guess maybe I misjudged Snape,” Harry said, though he didn't sound totally convinced, “but there's still something I don't get.”

“And what might that be, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Mister Granger said that Snape and Goyle were the only two that came in. So, if Snape stunned Goyle before he could do anything, who burned Hermione's house down?”

“Why, it was Professor Snape, of course,” Dumbledore answered.

“WHAT?! Why would he do that?!” Ron shouted, outraged. Hermione did not speak, but she certainly shared her friend's anger.

“It is imperative that Professor Snape remain in Lord Voldemort's confidence, both for our war efforts and for his own safety,” Dumbldore explained. “He needed to submit a plausible excuse to the Dark Lord as to how two fully-trained adult wizards could possibly fail to kill two ordinary, unsuspecting muggles. Thus, after allowing the Grangers to pack their essential belongings inside a bottomless bag, he set the house aflame before apparating the three of them away, leaving Goyle behind to perish. When he later gave his report to Voldemort, he blamed Goyle for the failure, claiming he was overzealous and started a fire he could not control. Goyle had a less than stellar reputation, so the Dark Lord believed his tale.”

“Why did he need to kill Goyle at all, though?” Hermione asked. “Couldn't Professor Snape have just performed a memory charm on him and made him believe he'd botched the mission in some other way?”

“Too risky,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “Voldemort is a master legilimens, and if his poor reputation is to be believed, Goyle had virtually no defences to speak of. Had Voldemort decided to use occlumency to verify the story, he would have broken through the false memory quite easily, and Professor Snape's life would have been all but forfeit. No, Mister Goyle had to die, as much as it pains me to say so.”

“That makes sense,” Harry admitted. “But why burn the house down? Couldn't he have just killed him with magic, and left the house alone?”

“Alas, no,” Dumbledore said. “Had any of Voldemort's people decided to examine Goyle's body, a cursory scan would have revealed that he'd been killed through magical means, and that obviously would have led straight back to Severus. But by burning down the house, he disposed of Goyle's body, leaving nothing for the Death Eaters to retrieve.”

“I understand Professor Snape's motives, but this still creates another problem. Where are my parents—and me as well, when I'm on break from Hogwarts—going to stay now that our house is gone?” Hermione asked, trying not to show how much she was affected by the loss of the only home she'd ever known. She evidently wasn't successful, because her mum gave her an understanding pat on the knee.

“For the time being, they will live in the ancestral home of a certain Mister Black, which you are already familiar with,” Dumbledore said. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disapproval, which Dumbledore did not miss. “I am aware that it is not the most hospitable of homes, but they will be perfectly safe there, and I think we can all agree that safety should be our foremost consideration at the present time.” Hermione had no choice but to nod in agreement at that, but it still wasn't an ideal solution in her opinion. Sensing her daughter's unhappiness, Jane Granger attempted to reassure her.

“It won't be so bad, sweetheart,” Mrs. Granger said. “We were able to bring along all of our irreplaceable things, and your father and I have plenty of money saved up, so we can afford to shut down our practice for now. It'll be a nice little vacation for us,” she finished, smiling encouragingly at her daughter. Hermione still wasn't thrilled about the idea of residing in 12 Grimmauld Place for any real length of time, but as long as it kept her parents safe and sound, she could deal with it. She gave her mother a smile and a nod, which seemed to make both of her parents happy.

Seeing that the explanation surrounding the attack on the Grangers had wrapped up, Ron decided to voice his own question. “Headmaster, Harry and Hermione told me that Gringotts was attacked. H-have you heard anything about my brother Bill?” he asked nervously. The smile which had graced Dumbledore's face disappeared, and he shook his head sadly.

“Unfortunately not, Mister Weasley,” Dumbledore said quietly. “The goblins are understandably wary following the attack, and are refusing to allow any non-goblins to assist them at the moment, so I do not yet have nearly as much information as I would like. I do hope to hear from a goblin representative within the next several hours, so with any luck, I will be able to provide you with a more concrete answer soon.”

Ron nodded, knowing he couldn't expect any better than that for the time being. With all of the important details having been covered, the meeting soon broke off. Harry and Ron agreed to a game of chess, partly so they could catch up after several weeks of awkwardness, but also to give Hermione some time alone with her parents. Harry knew full well that he was about to be thoroughly trounced, but seeing the happy smile on Hermione's face as he gave her a farewell kiss, he couldn't bring himself to care.

-NMM-

In the wee hours of the morning, Dumbledore received the floo call that he'd anticipated. Moments later, he welcomed Ragnok, a goblin of some renown, into his private chambers. Understanding the nature of goblins, particularly when their ire is raised, Dumbledore did away with the customary pleasantries that would have been expected were he conversing with an esteemed wizard and got straight to business.

“Ragnok, I believe I can assume you are here regarding the attack on Gringotts?”

“Yes,” the goblin curtly replied.

“And may I also assume that you speak in an official capacity?”

“Yes,” the goblin repeated. “I speak with the voice of the goblin nation.”

“That is good to hear,” Dumbledore said. “On behalf of our own government, I wish to formally apologise for our failure to assist you in your--”

“The goblin nation has no need for your apologies, Mister Dumbledore,” Ragnok said, and Dumbledore perceived a fire of fury in his eyes. “The failure lies with the goblin nation, and the goblin nation alone. We accept all of the blame for our failure to defend our territory and property.”

“That is very noble of you,” Dumbledore said, though he was not surprised when his words failed to placate the angry goblin. “And if I may be frank, Ragnok, I must say that I was rather surprised when I heard just how successful Lord Voldemort's strike was, given the strength and tenacity of the goblin nation.”

“If he had attacked us head-on, he would have been crushed!” Ragnok snarled, as angry as Dumbledore had ever seen any goblin up close. “Your Dark Lord Voldemort succeeded only through treachery!”

“Treachery? What do you mean?” Dumbledore asked, pleased that he was about to learn more.

“We were betrayed by one of our own. A goblin named Urg, who has brought great shame on that ancient and respected name,” Ragnok said, his temper controlled just barely. “He sabotaged many of Gringotts' defensive measures, turning them against us and creating chaos and disorder just as the attack was beginning. He also disabled our alert systems, which prevented us from summoning reinforcements to help deal with the invaders. Your cowardly Dark Lord had already fled with his stolen gold long before we could undo the damage caused by our traitor.”

“I see. This certainly sounds like a tactic Tom would employ,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “And what has become of this traitor named Urg?”

“He fled, along with his master,” Ragnok spat. “But he cannot hide from us forever. We will hunt him down. As long as it takes, and no matter where he goes, we will find him. And when we do, he will rue the day he betrayed the goblin nation.” Dumbledore did not doubt that. He knew goblins well enough to know that should Urg ever be apprehended, the brand of justice he would be subjected to would be horrifying indeed.

Pushing thoughts of Urg to the side, Dumbledore switched topics. “How badly was Gringotts damaged? Will it have to be shut down for any length of time?”

“The damage done to Gringotts itself will take time and gold to fix, but it is not so bad as to shut us down entirely. The greater losses were in the number of employees murdered, but the goblin nation will unite to overcome this adversity. We will resume operations this morning at our usual time.”

“Is that an estimate?”

“It is not an estimate. It is a fact,” Ragnok stated firmly.

“That is very good to hear,” Dumbledore said. “This war will be damaging enough to our economy, but if Gringotts were to cease functioning, the results would be disastrous. It is reassuring to know that our goblin friends will not allow this attack to keep them down.”

“No, we will not,” Ragnok agreed. “We also will not allow this disgrace to stand.”

“I am afraid I do not understand, Ragnok.”

“When Gringotts was breached, our attackers robbed us of something far more valuable than mere gold. They stole our reputation. They humiliated the goblin nation, and we do not take well to humiliation. Prior to this attack, we were content to place restrictions on our dealings with known Death Eaters and criminals, and otherwise allow you humans to fight your war amongst yourselves. But this is no longer an option. Your Dark Lord and his minions have embarrassed us, and our honour demands that we repay them for what they have done.”

“Are you saying that the goblin nation will join with us in the fight against Voldemort?”

“Join you? Not exactly. We will fight our enemy on our terms, and utilize whatever tactics we feel are necessary. That said, we realise that we share a common enemy, and acknowledge that it may be to our benefit to work alongside you in certain situations. But it must be understood that no matter what the circumstances, the goblin nation will not answer to any human commands or orders. We may work with you in this war, but we will never work for you.”

“I understand completely,” Dumbledore assured the goblin representative. “But why approach me, Ragnok? Why not make your intentions known to Minister Fudge?”

“Fudge is no fighter. In times such as these, your kind will look to you for leadership, Albus Dumbledore, and so it is you who we will deal with when the time comes.”

“I see. I look forward to working alongside the goblin nation in order to stop this grave danger that threatens us all,” Dumbledore said earnestly. Ragnok, having evidently said all he needed to say, stood up and prepared to make his exit. Before he could do so, Dumbledore recalled another matter he needed to ask about.

“Ragnok, before you leave, may I inquire if you are familiar with a wizard named William Weasley? He is an employee of Gringotts, you see, and his family is very...”

“I know who he is, ” Ragnok cut him off. “He was killed during the robbery. Weasley acquitted himself well, however, if the pair of dead Death Eaters we found alongside him are any indication. The goblin race will not forget his sacrifice.”

-NMM-

It was a pleasant October day in Ottery St. Catchpole, but Ron Weasley's mood did not match the weather. How could it? He was saying goodbye to his 25-year old brother.

He would never have owned up to it before, but Ron was now mature enough to admit that he had felt jealous of Bill at times when he was younger. Prefect, Head Boy, curse breaker—Bill had set the standard, and Ron feared he wouldn't be able to live up to it. He'd eventually come to realise that he needed to follow his own path, rather than trying to emulate Bill's. That was why he'd had no problem giving up his spot as prefect and becoming quidditch captain instead. Still, even if he'd accepted the fact that he needed to make his own way in the world, Ron had never stopped looking up to and admiring his eldest brother.

Now he was gone, ripped away from those who loved him far too soon. No matter what happened from then on, the Weasley family would never quite be whole.

It was a very small and intimate gathering that had assembled to bury Bill Weasley. There was Ron's parents, who looked broken and lost, as if they couldn't comprehend the reality of the situation. All of his siblings were there, including Charlie, who had gotten time off from the dragon reserve to attend. Charlie, now the oldest of the Weasley children, was crying openly. Fred and George, normally so fun and cheerful, were uncharacteristically sad. Their frowns and reddened eyes looked completely out of place on their faces. Ginny was sitting beside Ron and crying into his shoulder as he had his arm wrapped around her small frame, offering whatever comfort he could. Even Percy was there, sitting slightly apart from his family and looking both devastated and uncomfortable. Ron wasn't sure exactly how Percy's reunion with his estranged family had gone, since he'd still been at Hogwarts, but he followed the rest of his family's lead by ignoring Percy and allowing him to grieve for his lost brother without incident.

Harry and Hermione had both offered to come in support, but Dumbledore and the Order decided it would be too big a security risk for Harry to leave Hogwarts at the moment. That didn't mean the funeral was a Weasley-exclusive affair, though. A few of Bill's business associates and friends from his Hogwarts days had shown up, as had Remus Lupin, Tonks, Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Order.

And, of course, there was Fleur. Bill's fiancÃ©e was surrounded by her parents and her younger sister, but that didn't prevent any of the Weasleys from hearing her sobs throughout the ceremony. How ironic that it took the murder of Bill, and seeing first-hand just how much it devastated Fleur, to get his mum and Ginny to finally warm up to the beautiful veela. Even though she would no longer become a Weasley in name, she was now part of the family in spirit.

Despite the sadness of the day, Ron did not have it in him to cry. It's not that he was embarrassed or ashamed to show his emotions—he was simply too angry. Instead of grieving for his brother, he was thinking of how best to avenge him, how best to honour his memory.

Ron knew that Harry was at the forefront of this war. Even if You-Know-Who wasn't so focused on killing him, and even if the prophecy didn't exist, Harry would still throw himself into the fire. It was just part of his nature—his 'saving people thing', as Hermione had called it. And Ron was going to be right there by his side, watching his back. Ron would do whatever he could to help Harry stop that bastard, and if he took out a few Death Eaters along the way, he wasn't about to complain.

-NMM-

“Who do you think the instructor will be this time?” Hermione asked, drawing Harry's attention away from observing the other students who had shown up for the latest Advanced Defence meeting.

“Dunno,” Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Lupin's great in our regular Defence class, so hopefully it'll be him.” Harry looked to Ron, expecting his best mate to agree, but Ron seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

Unfortunately for Harry, it wasn't Remus Lupin who walked into the Room of Requirement. Instead, it was Severus Snape who entered the room to oversee the meeting. Harry heard several students around him, Ron included, groan or murmur in disappointment at having to deal with the dour potions professor. Inwardly, he shared their feelings. One of the highlights of Harry's school year thus far had been not having to interact with the head of Slytherin any longer. But, reminding himself that Hermione's parents were still alive because of Snape's actions, Harry resolved to be on his best behaviour.

“The Headmaster has asked me to run today's meeting,” Snape said without preamble as he walked to the front of the room. The students, being well-acquainted with the temper of the potions master, quickly grew silent lest they make him angry. “He says that the first meeting was a definite success, and that those who attended seem to grasp the importance of the subject matter. Today, we shall see if he is correct. Split into pairs and spread out across the room.”

The students did as ordered, hastily pairing off. Harry partnered with Hermione this time, while Ron found himself paired up with Neville.

“Very good,” Snape said patronizingly once everyone had followed his instructions. “We will begin by seeing if any of you can demonstrate the most effective defence against a curse. Weasley and Longbottom, we will start with you. Longbottom will cast a spell, and Weasley will show us the best way to protect himself.”

“What spell should I use?” Neville asked uncertainly, but not nearly as timidly as he previously would have when talking to Snape.

“Must I hold your hand, Longbottom?” Snape growled. “Use the first spell that comes to your mind, as long as it won't cause serious damage or see you carted off to Azkaban.”

“Err...right,” Neville said, before shrugging his shoulders and directing his attention towards Ron, who looked as determined as Harry had ever seen him, eyes narrowed and jaw set.

Neville fired off one of the spells they'd focused on in the DA the previous year, the disarming charm. In return, Ron bellowed “Protego!”, and a well-formed shield protected him. Ron grinned in satisfaction, and Harry smiled as well, happy for his friend. Harry had never seen Ron cast such a strong-looking shield.

“Incorrect, Weasley,” Snape drawled, not sounding the least bit impressed.

“What're you talking about?” Ron asked, the back of his neck and ears flushing red. “I stopped it, didn't I?”

“Yes, you did, Weasley,” Snape agreed. “But that was still not the correct choice.”

“What is the correct choice, then?” Ron grumbled, still upset at having his apparent success ignored. Rather than answering him, Snape approached the pair and gestured for Neville to step aside. He complied, and Snape took his place opposite Ron as the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up.

“Defend yourself, Weasley,” Snape said. That was all the warning Ron got before Snape cast. Ron got his shield up once again, and it was every bit as strong as it had been before. But Snape's nonverbal spell passed right through it, and a strange purple light hit Ron in the chest and knocked him down to his knees. Harry gasped and took a half a step towards him, but relaxed when he saw Ron quickly get up off his knees, apparently just fine physically even if his pride had taken a hit.

“Longbottom, take his place,” Snape ordered, and the two boys swapped positions. Neville braced himself, and Harry was very impressed at the defiant look on his face. Less than a year earlier, Neville would have been a quivering mess if Snape had pointed his wand at him.

“Defend yourself,” Snape said once again, and Neville cast his own protective shield. But, just like Ron, his shield was no match for Snape's nonverbal spell. Neville's wand arm was jerked sideways, and his wand slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the floor. While Neville bent down to retrieve his wand, Snape walked away from him and towards Harry and Hermione.

“Potter, step aside,” Snape demanded. Harry stilled, not wanting to put Hermione in this position. Snape may have spared the lives of Hermione's parents, but old grudges die hard, and he was still wary of the man who'd delighted in tormenting him since his very first potions lesson.

“It's fine, Harry,” Hermione said quietly, placing her hand on his upper arm and giving it a squeeze. “Let me try.”

Harry reluctantly backed up several paces until they had plenty of room. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, and he took deep breaths to calm himself. He knew Hermione could take care of herself, and if Snape's brief demonstrations with Ron and Neville were any indication, she wasn't in any real danger anyway. Still, his 'saving people thing' was out in full force, demanding that he rush to help his girlfriend against a much more experienced opponent.

Hermione's wand went into motion the same time Snape's did. But unlike Ron and Neville, she did not attempt to protect herself with the shield charm. Instead, she used the disarming spell to try and knock Snape's wand out of his hand.

Hermione's wandwork was fast, but Snape's was even faster. Hermione suddenly doubled over and panted, holding a hand to her stomach as if she'd been punched in the gut. Harry rushed towards her, but before he could reach her, Snape waved his wand once more and Hermione quickly straightened, her breathing back to normal. She waved Harry off, and one look at her irritated face revealed that she was not in pain, but merely frustrated at her inability to disarm her opponent. Satisfied that she was OK, he stayed where he was and turned to look at Snape.

“Not a bad idea, Granger,” Snape conceded, much to Harry's surprise. “Going on the offensive yourself is often a safer strategy than simply defending. But still not what I was looking for, which should be obvious since it did not work. Does anyone have the answer?” No one volunteered, and the room was silent. Once Snape realised this, his gaze fell on Harry.

“How about you, Potter? Think you can stop me?” Snape drawled. Harry shrugged his shoulders and lined up across from Snape, doing his best to look confident and prepared. Internally, he was panicking. His mind drew on all of his education, scrambling to think of a spell that would allow him to defend himself against Snape's attack, but coming up empty.

“Prepare yourself, Potter,” Snape said, and moments later, he sent a nonverbal curse Harry's way. Harry still had no clue what he was expected to do, but his self-preservation instincts kicked in. He left his feet and rolled to the side, and Snape's spell collided harmlessly with one of the invisible barriers the Room of Requirement had erected around each pairing. Harry pivoted back towards Snape, expecting to have to defend himself against another attack. Instead, Snape had his wand down by his side, and he inclined his head ever so slightly in Harry's direction.

“At least one of you managed to figure it out,” Snape said to the assembled students. “Ten points to Gryffindor, Potter.”

Harry's jaw dropped, and he saw that Hermione and Ron were just as surprised as he was. In all the years they'd had classes with Snape, he'd almost never awarded house points to anyone outside of Slytherin, and never to Harry.

“What do you mean, Professor?” Seamus asked. “The judges would've disqualified Harry for that in any official duel.”

“Duel? You aren't here to duel, Mister Finnigan,” Snape said heatedly. “You are here to learn how to defend yourself in a life and death situation. Do you think the Death Eaters will obey the accepted duelling rules and regulations should you be their target? Do you think they'll give you a respectful bow and come at you one at a time?” Seamus shook his head, and Snape favoured him with a sneer. “Then get these silly notions out of your head. This isn't a game or a competition. If you're up against wizards who will stop at nothing to torture, maim and kill you, there is only one rule: survive.” The students nodded their understanding, Harry among them.

“A well-cast shield charm will protect you from most incoming spells, if your magical ability is close to that of your attacker,” Snape continued, “but there are some things it can't stop. And if your attacker is significantly stronger than you are, the shield is all but useless, as Weasley and Longbottom both demonstrated. The best defence against any attack is to simply avoid it if you can, but merely dodging indefinitely will quickly tire you out. The ideal response would be a combination of Potter and Granger's attempts. First, move out of range of the spell, and if possible, throw a spell of your own right back at your attacker before they can get off another.” Harry looked at his former professor with new-found respect as he finished his explanation. He might be a bully, but that was excellent advice.

“Let's see how good your instincts are. Back into your pairs for drills. Attack, defend, duck, dodge, counterstrike...just don't get hit.”

-NMM-

Loath though he was to admit it, even to himself, Severus Snape had just been impressed by Harry Potter.

It had been at Dumbledore's urging that Snape had been the instructor for that day's Advanced Defence meeting. He'd wanted no part of any additional time with the dunderheads and simpletons that comprised the vast majority of the student body, but Dumbledore had been adamant. He continued to insist that Snape was underestimating Harry Potter, and would be pleasantly surprised if he gave him half a chance.

Snape had remained sceptical—he felt that the rest of the Hogwarts staff, Dumbledore included, coddled the boy and exaggerated his prowess. He'd fully intended to use this meeting as an opportunity to knock the supposed saviour down a few pegs, and show his fellow students that the so-called Chosen One was not all he was cracked up to be. But Potter had surprised him by having the sense to roll out of the way of his attack. Whether Potter had analysed the situation and decided that was his best defence against a stronger opponent, or simply acted on his instincts, the fact of the matter was that he'd done exactly what he should have given the situation.

It hadn't stopped there, either. Potter had shown excellent instinct throughout the drills, using a combination of evasive manoeuvres, shields and counterattacks that enabled him to succeed far more often than any of his peers, regardless of who he was matched up against. Even when Snape had shifted the meeting away from one-on-one and into odd-numbered situations, Potter's performance had been impressive. It may have been a far cry from fighting actual Death Eaters, but Snape couldn't deny that Potter had far exceeded his expectations.

Snape had helped Dumbledore keep the boy alive for Lily's sake, in remembrance of his one true friend and the only woman he'd ever loved. But he'd always scoffed at the idea that the brat had any hope of defeating the Dark Lord, no matter how many times Dumbledore tried to convince him. What hope could a mere boy have against one of the most feared wizards of all time?

Still, Dumbledore had insisted, and he'd also insisted that his love for those close to him, particularly Hermione Granger, would be crucial to his victory. He'd spared the girl's parents for that very reason, his hatred of the Dark Lord and desire to see him destroyed winning out over his hatred for Potter and his disdain for the know-it-all—at least at the time.

Snape still wasn't sure whether it was the right decision. He still didn't share Dumbledore's blind faith in Potter's ability to accomplish the seemingly impossible. But the boy had given him something to think about.

A/N: Hey, look, a new chapter! And just a little over a month after the last one!

I've mentioned it elsewhere, but not within the story itself: Chapter 10 has been modified. Hermione's friends no longer upset her by ignoring her birthday prior to the surprise party. So if that aspect of the story bugged you the first time, you may want to reread that chapter now.

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14. 14. All Hallows' Eve

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 14: All Hallows' Eve

“Rise, Severus.”

Snape rose from his kneeling position on the cold stone floor and favoured the Dark Lord with another respectful bow. “I apologise for my tardiness, My Lord,” he said. “I came as soon as I was able to get away without arousing suspicion.”

“There's no need for such caution, Snape,” the Dark Lord said dismissively. “Dumbledore is already well aware that you report to me regularly. The old fool just doesn't realise that you aren't his spy—you're mine.”

“As you say, My Lord,” Snape agreed. “May I inquire as to why I was summoned?”

“Tell me, Snape: what is the significance of this day?” Voldemort asked mildly. Snape's face remained impassive, but his mind was racing. Dare he mention it?”

“Well, My Lord,” he began hesitantly, “today is the anniversary of the day that you attacked the Potters in Godric's Hollow, and--”

“Exactly,” Voldemort cut in. “For the past fifteen years, every single blood traitor, squib, and mudblood in this country has marked this as the day when an infant in his nappies defeated the most powerful wizard of all time. For fifteen years, today has been a day of hope and strength for our enemies. But no longer. At this time next year, our victory will have long been complete. I will hold a celebration to end all celebrations on October 31st, 1997. Harry Potter's severed head will be on display, and every witch and wizard still drawing breath in our new world will gaze upon it as they pay homage to their lord.”

“I cannot wait for that day,” Snape said, and Voldemort favoured him with a sinister smile.

“I know you cannot, my friend,” Voldemort assured him. “Your hatred of both James Potter and his whelp are well-known to me. It will be a glorious day for us both. And I need your help to ensure it comes to pass.”

“Me? How may I assist you, My Lord?”

“You may not be aware of it, but I have assigned a task to Draco Malfoy which will prove invaluable to our victory,” Voldemort explained, and Snape nodded slowly.

“I am aware of it,” Snape answered. “Draco's mother contacted me during the summer and begged me to assist him in his endeavour. I have approached him, several times in fact, but he has rebuffed me every time. He seems quite intent on carrying his assignment out by himself.”

“Yes, I'd expected as much,” Voldemort said with something akin to admiration. “Draco is eager to make up for his father's blunder in the Department of Mysteries and prove that the Malfoys remain a valuable asset for our revolution. Honestly, if Lucius possessed half his determination, Potter and his friends would have never made it out alive. Still, Draco's task is crucial to my future plans, and I cannot afford any mistakes. Fortunately, you are in close proximity, so I wish for you to ensure that Draco does not fail.”

“I see,” Snape replied. “And what is this task, precisely?”

“I cannot answer that,” Voldemort said, shaking his head. “No matter what he might say, I would not put it past Dumbledore to probe your mind if he suspected you of betrayal. The risk is too great.”

“Forgive me, My Lord, but how am I to assist young Malfoy if I remain in the dark as to his purpose?” Snape asked as deferentially as he could manage.

“You will learn everything you need to know when the time comes,” Voldemort insisted. “Until then, you will simply have to place your faith in your master. Is that understood?” Snape could see that the Dark Lord was getting annoyed, and he knew that attempting to press the issue any further would be not only fruitless, but hazardous to his health.

“It is understood, My Lord,” Snape said, nodding his head. “I apologize for overstepping my bounds. I suppose I am just feeling a bit anxious. You know how long I have waited to see Potter's spawn put in his place, and if Draco's assignment is truly essential, I want to do everything in my power to help him.”

“Do not worry, Severus. Your time will come,” Voldemort assured him. “You will get to play an integral part in the downfall of both Potter and Dumbledore, and the rise of our new world.”

-NMM-

Hermione put her books away and hurried out of the library and down to the Great Hall, where she was past due to meet with Harry and Ron for the beginning of the Halloween feast. When she arrived, she spotted Ron sitting at the Gryffindor table and attacking his meal with relish, but Harry was conspicuous by his absence. She approached her tall friend, intent on finding out where her boyfriend was.

“Ron, have you seen Harry?”

Ron Weasley's cheeks bulged with food as he raised his head to look at her, and Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. Thankfully, he did her the courtesy of swallowing before he opened his mouth to respond.

“Not since our quidditch practice finished up,” Ron told her. “He said he was going to do a bit of studying in the common room and would meet us down here when he was finished.”

“But I'm late as it is,” Hermione murmured. “There's no way I should have beaten him here. Unless...” she trailed off.

“Unless what?” Ron prompted.

“Unless he decided not to come. You have noticed that he's been quiet and withdrawn today, right?”

“I'd say he's been a moody git, actually,” Ron said once he'd swallowed his pumpkin juice. “But I'm sure he'll come soon, Hermione. There's no way he'd want to miss the Halloween feast!”

“Ronald, don't you get it?” When he just looked at her blankly, Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. “This isn't just Halloween for Harry. It's also the night he lost his parents.” Ron grimaced as Hermione's words sank in and he realised his oversight.

“I didn't think of that,” Ron admitted. “Guess I was too excited for the feast.”

“I understand, Ron. Today has become such a celebration since Voldemort's fall, and I'm sure it's easy for someone who grew up in this world to forget what else happened that night,” Hermione said, her tone softening as she saw the guilt flash across his face. “I think I'll head up and check on him.”

“D'you want me to come with you?” Ron offered, but Hermione was shaking her head before he'd even finished asking the question.

“That's OK, Ron, I'd better do it by myself. I know how you boys are with talking about feelings and emotions,” she teased, and grinned when Ron mock-scowled at her.

“Take care of him, Hermione,” he said seriously, and Hermione nodded at him solemnly.

“I will. Enjoy the feast, Ron,” she said, patting his shoulder before walking away, her strides quick as she rushed to be by her boyfriend's side.

With almost everyone already in the Great Hall for the feast, Hermione was free to move through the corridors unimpeded all the way to the Fat Lady's portrait. She spoke the password clearly and stepped through the hole into the Gryffindor common room as soon as it swung open. It didn't take her long to find Harry, who was seated on a couch facing the fireplace. He didn't react as she walked towards him. His eyes remained locked on the flames even as she sat down beside him on the couch and clasped his right hand between both of hers. Hermione ran her fingers across the scars on the back of Harry's right hand—the handiwork of Umbridge and her blasted blood quill—and waited patiently. Harry would speak to her when she was ready. Until then, she would offer whatever comfort he could find in her presence and her touch.

“I'm sorry. I know I've been a bit of a berk today,” Harry said at last. Hermione turned her head slightly to examine him more closely. He was still looking at the fire instead of at her, but she could see that he felt guilty about the way he'd snapped at both her and Ron throughout the day.

“It's fine, Harry,” she reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze. “Ron and I know you didn't mean anything by it. This must be a tough day for you.”

“It's worse than usual this year,” Harry admitted. “Usually I can deal with it, but...” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

“Is it because you lost Sirius?” Hermione asked, but to her surprise, Harry shook his head no.

“No, not really. I mean, maybe that's got a little bit to do with it, but it's mostly because of what's happening with you and me,” Harry said. Whatever Hermione had been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn't that.

“What do you mean?” she asked, cocking her head at him. She was quite proud of herself for managing to sound so calm even while she was beginning to panic internally. 'Is he having second thoughts about being with me?' she asked herself. She waited with bated breath as Harry visibly tried to formulate his response, until finally he spoke.

“I've never really been normal,” Harry started. “The Dursleys have always treated me like rubbish, and here among wizards, I'm a celebrity for something that I did when I was still in nappies. But being with you, it's shown me a little bit of what it's like to be a normal teenage boy living a normal life—a life Voldemort took away from me when he killed my parents.”

Hermione, who had grown up in a happy home with loving parents, had no clue how to respond to that. She settled for climbing onto Harry's lap and wrapping her arms around him in a comforting hug. Harry hugged her back, pulling her body into his and resting his head on her shoulder. Hermione sighed in relief, happy that Harry was accepting her comfort, and also happy that he'd opened up to her. Harry tended to keep things bottled up unless forced to talk, so the fact that he'd shared his thoughts with her after very little prodding said wonders about the state of their relationship.

“I know you're probably tired of hearing this, and it doesn't make up for the fact that they're gone, but I'm sure they're very proud of you, Harry,” Hermione said after several minutes of comfortable silence. He lifted his head to look at her, and her left arm unwound itself from around his body so she could caress his cheek. “Wherever they are, they're watching, and they're so proud of you, just like I am.”

“They're proud of you, too,” Harry said quietly, catching her by surprise. “They know, just like I do, that I wouldn't be who I am without you. Hell, I'd be dead without you.”

“True, but the same is true for me,” Hermione pointed out. “I'd be dead without you, too. I wouldn't be who I am if it weren't for you. I need you just as much as you need me.”

“I guess it's a good thing we have each other, then,” Harry said with a smile. Hermione returned the smile and dropped her hand from his cheek to pat his shoulder.

“You bet it is, Potter,” she cheekily replied, before becoming serious once more. “I'm sorry you've had to grow up without them, Harry. I know you'd give anything to have them back--”

“That's not true,” Harry interrupted. “I wouldn't give you up for anything,” he said, his voice strong and certain. Hermione couldn't help but blush, and a pleased smile spread across her face.

“That's sweet, Harry,” she said, and rewarded him with a quick kiss.

“I meant it,” Harry said even as he flushed in slight embarrassment. “I miss my parents and I miss Sirius, but I've adjusted to life without them. But life without you? I can't even imagine it.”

“I feel the same way, Harry” Hermione murmured. She paused briefly, debating with herself, before coming to a decision. “I love you,” she said softly as she rest her forehead against his. She heard Harry's breath hitch momentarily before he was able to respond.

“You know, that's the first time someone's ever said that to me. First time I can remember, at least,” Harry stated. Hermione felt her eyes well up with tears at that admission, but she resolutely blinked them away so she could see her boyfriend clearly. He looked as if he was trying to decide what to say, so she quickly spoke up.

“You don't need to feel obligated to say it back to me,” Hermione assured him. “I just wanted you to know how I felt.”

“No, it's not like that, Hermione,” Harry started. “It's...this is just a big deal, and I was trying to think of the perfect way to say what I'm feeling, but it's just not...anyway, yeah, I do love you too. I love you, Hermione.” Hermione grinned as Harry stammered his way through his confession, and gave him another kiss. This one lasted much longer. Hermione poured all of her feelings, all of her affection, all of her love for Harry into this one kiss. She was more than satisfied with the results.

Hermione broke away only when her body demanded oxygen. She sat back, panting for breath, and was quite pleased with herself when she saw the expression on Harry's face. He looked equal parts overwhelmed, breathless and excited. She loved knowing that it was her that could do this to him. Her, and only her.

“That was the perfect way to say it,” Hermione said with a triumphant smirk.

-NMM-

“Welcome back, Severus. Please, have a seat.”

A weary Snape did as Dumbledore requested, sitting down in a chair at the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore settled into his own seat across from him, and gave Snape a moment before speaking again.

“Would you like me to have the elves bring some food? You must be hungry after missing out on the customary Halloween feast,” Dumbledore offered, but Snape shook his head.

“No, Albus. I would prefer to get through this as quickly as possible, retire to my quarters, and get a long night's sleep.”

“Very well; I shall try not to keep you too long, then. How did your meeting with Lord Voldemort go? What did he speak to you about?” Dumbledore asked, getting straight to the point, much to Snape's approval.

“The date was not lost on him,” Snape said. “He's quite obsessed with what happened to him on Halloween night 1981, and boasted about a grand celebration he would hold at this time next year—with Harry Potter's head as the centrepiece.”

“That's markedly disturbing, even for Tom,” Dumbledore remarked, his crooked nose wrinkling in disgust. Snape said nothing, and his face remained a blank slate that gave no hint as to his thoughts on the matter.

“Was that all? He usually doesn't summon you to his side unless he has something of import to discuss,” Dumbledore pointed out, and Snape acknowledged the point with a nod.

“There was more, yes,” Snape confirmed. “The Dark Lord asked me to assist young Malfoy, and make sure he completes his task successfully.”

As he expected, those words were most interesting to Dumbledore. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands under his chin, giving Snape his full attention. “Did he reveal the specifics of Draco's assignment?” Dumbledore asked eagerly.

“No, he did not,” Snape said, and Dumbledore's face dropped in disappointment. “He was afraid you'd try to pull the information out of my head if you caught on. Clearly, he doesn't know you half as well as I do,” he grumbled, thinking about Dumbledore's insistence that he not use legilimency on Draco. “He merely wished to alert me that he'd be calling on me to help Draco when the time came.”

“That is unfortunate,” Dumbledore said, and he sighed. “Unless we manage to make Draco see the error of his ways before it is too late, I suppose we will just have to wait until Tom calls upon you to play your part, and then formulate a plan of action as swiftly as possible.”

“There is another course of action we could take, if you'd just accept who and what Draco Malfoy has become,” Snape began, but Dumbledore waved him into silence.

“We have been over this, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “My answer has not changed. You are not to use legilimency on Draco, nor are you to slip him veritaserum.”

“The boy cannot be saved, Dumbledore,” Snape growled, frustrated with his stubborn refusal to see the truth regarding the junior Malfoy. “He does not wish to be saved. If you continue to allow him to walk the corridors of this castle unimpeded, he may complete his task, whatever it is. Why can't you see how important it is for us to find out what he's up to, by whatever means required?”

The revered Headmaster was silent for quite some time. He adjusted his half-moon spectacles as he stared down at his desk, deep in thought. For a moment, Snape started to think that perhaps he was finally facing reality.

“You may well be right about him, Severus,” Dumbledore said at last. “You know him far better than I. And yet, to the best of our knowledge, Draco is still innocent of any crime. I am the Headmaster of this school, and every student here is under my protection—Draco included. If I authorize you to use such extreme measures against one of our students, one of the young men and women who parents entrust to our care, I am no better than Tom.”

“And what about all of the other students who are under your protection?” Snape asked. “Draco's plot will likely put them in danger. Are you really going to gamble with the lives of every student here, all so you can try and save one Death Eater in training from a path he chose?”

“You once chose the same path, my friend,” Dumbledore pointed out. “In fact, you walked further down that path than Draco has thus far. But you came to see the error of your ways, and you have redeemed yourself. Does Draco not deserve the same chance?”

“I had a reason to renounce the Dark Lord,” Snape said fiercely. “He targeted and killed my best friend, the only person I have ever cared about. Draco cares for nothing and no one save perhaps his parents, and I can assure you that neither of them will ever attempt to convince Draco that defying the Dark Lord is a wise decision.”

“I understand your position, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his voice infuriatingly serene. “Nevertheless, I am not ready to condemn young Draco just yet. I understand that you think I am making a mistake, but I feel in my heart that this is the right thing to do. Giving up on Draco and forcing the information out of him would undoubtedly be the easiest solution to our problems, but as I once told our students, we all must face the choice between what is right and what is easy.”

“Oh, don't feed me that rubbish!” Snape shouted. “When it comes to Draco, you are doing what is easy—nothing! You are so squeamish and so foolishly idealistic that you would rather jeopardize our entire world than violate the rights of one junior Death Eater with delusions of grandeur!” Snape paused to give Dumbledore a chance to speak up, but when it became clear that no response was forthcoming, he continued his tirade.

“Even after that big speech you fed me earlier this term about how your biggest failing was believing you had all of the answers, you still haven't changed in the slightest! You're still the same stubborn old fool who thinks he's more clever than everyone else, and you still ignore every piece of advice I offer that doesn't fit into your view of how the world works.

“Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, Albus, a Death Eater through and through. No matter what you do, no matter how many chances you give him, you will never bring him back to the light, because he was never part of it to begin with. He was born and bred to be a loyal servant of the Dark Lord, and he will never stray from that upbringing as long as he draws breath. I have told you this time and again, but you continue to ignore me. You continue to believe that you know better than everyone else, but you don't. You don't understand more about the psyche of a young Death Eater than I do. You cannot save that which does not wish to be saved, and Draco most certainly does not wish to be saved.”

Dumbledore still remained silent, but the sorrowful look on his face did his talking for him. Snape didn't need to hear him speak to know that nothing he'd said had managed to break through. He decided that he could not stomach spending another moment of that night in the old fool's presence, so he stood from his chair, gave the mute Headmaster one last look of disgust, and stormed out of his office.

As he strode towards his quarters, Snape couldn't help asking himself what hope the light had if their unofficial leader continued to value his misguided sense of morality and forgiveness above doing what was best to defeat the Dark Lord. And if Dumbledore refused to act on his advice, why should he continue to risk his life on his behalf?

It had been a long and exhausting day for Snape, who desired nothing so much as to throw himself onto his bed and forget all about it. Unfortunately for him, his night was not over quite yet. As he walked through the dungeons and towards his private quarters, he stumbled upon one of his own Slytherins out wandering the dungeon corridors well past curfew. With the way the day had gone for Snape, he was not the least bit surprised that the student in question was Draco Malfoy, the very cause of most of his current frustration

“Mister Malfoy. What are you doing out at this hour?” Snape questioned, making an effort to sound calm and disinterested.

“None of your business,” Draco snarled. Snape was unsurprised by Draco's hostility. The boy had become more confrontational towards him with every failed overture.

“I am your Head of House, so it is in fact my business,” Snape stated nonchalantly, not allowing the boy to set him off.

“I needed some time to myself before going to sleep,” Draco reluctantly answered.

“I see,” Snape said, unsure whether or not he was telling the truth, and not particularly caring at the moment either. When Draco turned away and began walking in the direction of the Slytherin common room, Snape spoke up.

“I had a most intriguing conversation with the Dark Lord today,” Snape said. As he expected, Draco stopped abruptly once he heard that piece of information. The boy turned to face him once more, looking more suspicious of him than ever before.

“You tried to steal my mission away from me, didn't you?” Draco asked, and he stared at Snape coldly. Snape scoffed and shook his head dismissively.

“No, Draco, I did not. However, the Dark Lord did inform me that he'd be calling upon me to provide you with some assistance.”

“No!” Draco said, his face reddening in anger. “I don't want your help! I'm going to accomplish my mission, and when the Dark Lord gets rid of Potter and Dumbledore, it'll be me by his side, not you!”

“Your devotion is admirable,” Snape said with a sneer, “but do you really believe you can back up your words? Your father often boasted about his value to the Dark Lord, but when the time came for him to prove his worth, he failed miserably. What's to keep you from joining your father in his roomy Azkaban cell?”

“Don't you insult my father!” Draco shouted. He was truly livid now, so angry he was shaking. “He is a great man, and after I have succeeded, the Dark Lord will free him from Azkaban and allow him to redeem himself!”

“And you are prepared to go to any lengths to make sure that that happens?” Snape pressed. “You will do whatever necessary to gain the Dark Lord's approval?”

“Yes,” Draco said, and Snape could hear the conviction in his voice. “The Dark Lord is going to make our world better. He's going to rid us of the filthy mudbloods that plague our society, and remind all of the subhuman races that their proper role is that of servitude. Why wouldn't I do whatever he asks me to do if it'll make that world a reality? I am honoured that he's chosen me.”

“That is good to hear, Mister Malfoy,” Snape said. “If you are truly as loyal as you claim, I'm sure the Dark Lord will be most pleased. Now return to your dormitory before you run into someone less inclined to overlook your curfew-breaking.” Draco was still mistrusting and wary of him, but he nodded and walked quickly back towards the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Snape had already been convinced that Draco was firmly entrenched in his role as a Death Eater, but that conversation left no room for doubt. The boy wasn't just his father's son; he was even more enthralled by the Dark Lord's rhetoric, and even more eager to do his bidding. If someone didn't do something to stop him, it was only a matter of time before blood would be spilled in Hogwarts.

Dumbledore was adamant, though: the boy was untouchable. Snape didn't know how Dumbledore would react if he broke into Draco's mind without his approval, but he was well aware that anything that could be done with the information gained would invariably have to run through Dumbledore anyway. It's not as if anyone else would trust anything he said.

He would either have to find some way to convince him that the boy was truly beyond saving...or he would have to throw in his lot with the Dark Lord.

A/N: This chapter was nearly finished about a month ago, but I didn't like the direction it was going and wound up rewriting large chunks of it. I apologize for the delay, but I think the end result is definitely better than what was originally there.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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15. 15. Trust

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 15: Trust

Draco stomped through the corridors of Hogwarts, glaring at anyone who happened to be in his way. Pansy was keeping up as best she could, shooting him concerned looks all the while, but Draco ignored her as usual. She couldn't begin to appreciate the weight of responsibility on Draco's shoulders, nor would she be able to understand why Snape's actions the previous night had made him so angry.

A night of sleep had done nothing to improve Draco's mood. In fact, he'd gotten little to no sleep, so upset was he with his Head of House. How dare Snape try and insert himself into Draco's mission! Draco knew that this was his opportunity to prove his worth to the Dark Lord, and there was no way he was going to let Snape get involved in any way. It would be Draco who enabled the Dark Lord to rid their world of Potter, Dumbledore and every other mudblood and blood traitor who stood in his way, not Snape.

Draco was so consumed with his anger for Snape that he did not notice the oncoming form of Harry Potter until the two collided shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of the corridor. Draco stumbled, but was able to remain on his feet by grabbing hold of Pansy's shoulder until he was able to regain his balance.

“Ooh, Draco, are you hurt?” Pansy gasped, clutching his arm in worry, but he shook free from her grip and scowled at the Gryffindor golden boy, who was flanked by Granger and Weasley as usual.

“Watch where you're going, Potter,” Draco spat, glaring at his hated nemesis. Potter didn't back down, and returned Draco's look with just as much animosity.

“You're the one who bumped into me, ferret,” Potter said, knowing how much that particular insult angered him.

“Very funny, Potter,” Draco said. “I'm sure the weasel and the mudblood were amused, but--”

“What did you call her?” Potter said, his eyes narrowing as he took a step towards Draco. Draco's hand fell to his wand, but the mudblood restrained Potter before he could come any closer.

“He's not worth it, Harry,” the mudblood said as she held the so-called 'Chosen One' back. “Forget about him, and let's get to Professor McGonagall's class.”

“Yes, listen to her, Potter,” Draco said, smirking as he watched Granger lead a clearly reluctant Potter away from him. “You wouldn't want her angry with you. After all, who knows how much time you'll have together?”

That got Granger to turn and look back at him. “Is that supposed to be a threat, Malfoy?” she asked, sounding calmer than Potter had, but her eyes made her distaste for him clear. The feeling was very much mutual as far as Draco was concerned.

“Of course not,” Draco said dismissively, as if it was beneath him to even acknowledge her existence. Which it was, of course. “But these are pretty dangerous times, aren't they? There's no telling what might happen next.”

“Whatever happens, Harry won't be beaten,” Weasley said, joining the conversation for the first time. “Just ask the Dark Tosser you worship so much. Or daddy, if you can find the time to make a trip to Azkaban.”

Draco seethed at the insult to his father. He wanted nothing more than to use his wand to put this dirt-poor blood traitor in his place, but now was not the time to initiate a duel. The task ahead of him was far too important to risk physical injury, no matter how unlikely it would be for a wizard of Weasley's calibre to defeat him. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't respond to Weasley's verbal jab with one of his own—and he had a perfect one in mind.

“My father's stay in Azkaban is temporary, Weasley,” Draco said smoothly. “What happened to your brother, on the other hand, is quite permanent.”

That comment surprised the Gryffindor trio, to be sure! Weasley's face turned as red as his hair—quite an ugly sight. Granger looked surprised that he would go that far, for some reason. Potter looked about as angry as he had ever seen him, and Draco knew that the grudge between them had just escalated yet again. The thought pleased him to no end.

As it turned out, his comment had even taken Pansy aback, if her gasp was any indication. “Draco, maybe we should go back to the common room,” she said, sounding afraid.

“Don't worry about it, Pansy,” Draco said, turning his head to smirk at her. “The golden boy and his followers were just about to...”

Draco cut off abruptly as he heard heavy footsteps stomping towards him. His head swivelled around in time to see Weasley closing in on him fast, fists clenched. Draco's hand fell to his wand, but he didn't have enough time to draw it before Weasley's fist connected with his face. His nose made a sickening crunch, and he fell to the floor despite a shrieking Pansy's best efforts to hold him up.

Draco braced himself for another blow, but thankfully none came. His hand flew to his nose, and his palms quickly turned crimson. The mongrel had broken his nose!

Draco lurched to his feet, hand clasped over his broken nose, and saw that Weasley was being restrained by not just Potter and Granger, but Professor Snape as well. Draco pulled out his wand, prepared to retaliate regardless of the consequences, but Snape saw it out of the corner of his eye and shook his head at him.

“Put your wand away, Mister Malfoy, or you will join Weasley here in a month's worth of detentions,” Snape warned. Draco glared at him as best he could with his other hand covering his nose, but reluctantly complied.

“Weasley attacked him, professor!” Pansy wailed, near tears. “He's bleeding! Poor Draco! Are you OK?” She tried to comfort him with a hug, but he angrily turned his body away from hers.

“I am well aware that he is bleeding, Miss Parkinson,” Snape said calmly. “If you would be so kind as to escort him to the hospital wing while I deal with Mister Weasley?”

“O-of course, professor,” Pansy said through her sniffles. “Come on, Draco, let's go,” she said softly, and reached for his free hand. He snatched it away and stomped off in the direction of the hospital wing, ignoring her as she silently walked alongside him.

Draco hadn't needed any convincing to begin with, but this was just further proof of how much their world needed to be changed, to be remade to fit the Dark Lord's vision of the future. That a pureblood wizard such as Weasley would resort to using his fists like a common muggle or mudblood was maddening to Draco. Small wonder that Weasley would throw a punch like a simpleton rather than use his wand like a proper wizard. The uppity mudblood Granger and deluded half-blood Potter had obviously been a bad influence.

No matter. Very soon, the Dark Lord would eliminate all of the rubbish dragging them down, and Draco would be right there with him to make sure that he succeeded.

--NMM--

“Something about the way Malfoy was acting today is bothering me,” Harry said quietly to Hermione, careful not to speak too loudly so he wouldn't anger Madam Pince. They were in a rather secluded corner of the library, but he saw no reason to push his luck. Few things would earn him Hermione's wrath faster than getting her thrown out of the library.

Hermione turned her attention away from her book and turned to look at her boyfriend. “He was just trying to get under your skin—and then Ron's,” she said. “What he said about Bill was classless, even for him, but I'd think you know Malfoy well enough by now to expect that kind of thing from him.”

“It's not that,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “It's the threats he was making, how there wasn't much time left, and who knew what might happen next.”

“He's a braggart, Harry,” Hermione stated. “He's always boasting about his family's power and wealth, or warning what will happen when his father hears about whatever problem he's having.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry conceded, “but it just feels different to me this time. I don't think he's making idle threats this time. I think there's more to it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Remember when we saw Draco and Snape arguing in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked. It took a moment for Hermione to remember what he was talking about, but she eventually nodded.

"Yes," she said. “I'd forgotten about that, because my house was attacked that same day."

"So had I," Harry said, "but listening to Draco running his mouth today reminded me of it, and I still think they were arguing about something important. I'm not sure how Snape fits in or what side he's really on, but Draco's a slimy little git just like his father, and I think he's up to something.”

“Something involving Voldemort, you mean?” Hermione said, and Harry nodded in confirmation. “Why do you think Voldemort would involve Draco, of all people, in his plans? Voldemort has far more dangerous witches and wizards at his disposal than Draco. What would he need him for?" Hermione asked. Harry was pleased to note that, though she clearly had her doubts, Hermione was not dismissing him out of hand.

"Draco's nothing special, even for his age," Harry agreed. "I'm sure most, if not all, of Voldemort's followers are much stronger. But there's one thing Draco can offer that none of them can, assuming Dumbledore's right about Snape." Hermione's eyes widened as she realised what Harry was suggesting.

"You think he'd use Draco to try and attack someone within Hogwarts," she said. She hadn't phrased it as a question, but Harry nodded anyway.

"Yes, why not? If Draco is half as devoted to the cause as his father is, it makes perfect sense that Voldemort would try to find the best possible way to make use of him. And what better way to take advantage of Draco's loyalty than to have him try and take out one or both of Voldemort's biggest targets?"

"You and Dumbledore," Hermione said simply, and Harry nodded. Hermione was silent for some time as she considered Harry's theory, and he began to think that she was going to reject it.

“I know it seems unlikely that he'd rely on Draco for anything, Hermione, but...”

“We need to go to Dumbledore about this,” Hermione said, cutting him off. Harry blinked at her, surprised.

“You believe me?” he asked.

“I'm not sure what to believe,” Hermione said with a shrug. “You're right, I do find it unlikely that Draco would be entrusted with anything of significance, or that he would succeed even if he was. He talks big, but I think he's just that—talk. Still, I know better than to dismiss your hunches or gut feelings out of hand. At the very least, you can tell Dumbledore your suspicions, and maybe he will keep a closer eye on Draco.”

“You want to go with me to talk to Dumbledore, then?” Harry asked, and Hermione nodded. “When?”

“No time like the present,” Hermione said. She closed and put away her book, gathered her things, stood up from her chair and looked at Harry expectantly. Harry blinked before smiling at his girlfriend.

“Lead the way,” he said, and the two left the library and set off for Dumbledore's office hand in hand. On the way, they realised they had a problem; neither one of them knew Dumbledore's current password. Fortunately, the stone gargoyle stepped aside without a word and allowed them to enter.

“Ah, welcome, Mister Potter and Miss Granger,” Dumbledore greeted them from behind his desk as they stepped into his office. “I was notified of your approach and instructed the gargoyle to admit you without a password. Neither of you appear to be under any distress, thankfully, so I trust nothing urgent has happened?”

“Not really, no,” Harry confirmed as he and Hermione sat down on the comfortable couch Dumbledore had conjured for them. “We just wanted to talk to you about Draco Malfoy.”

“I see. Professor Snape informed me of the altercation between young Draco and your friend Mister Weasley earlier today,” Dumbledore told them. “I support the detentions Professor Snape assigned to Ronald, as violence within Hogwarts is not to be tolerated no matter the circumstances. However, Draco's remarks were unacceptable, and he has been punished accordingly.”

“We didn't come to talk about that,” Hermione said. “Not directly, at least.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore said. “Please explain, then.”

“I think Draco is up to something,” Harry said.”

“Up to something?” Dumbledore repeated. “What do you mean, precisely?”

“I think that he's been given a task by Voldemort,” Harry said. The change in Dumbledore was instantaneous. The Headmaster leaned forward in his chair, eyes widened, and looked at Harry quite intently.

“And what drew you to that conclusion, Harry?” Dumbledore asked him.

“It's not any one thing. More a gut feeling than anything,” Harry admitted with a shrug, and Dumbledore sighed and deflated.

“Your feeling is correct, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “During the summer, Lord Voldemort did indeed assign Draco a task to carry out.”

“He did?” Harry said incredulously, shooting off of the couch so he could stand directly in front of Dumbledore's desk. “Why didn't you tell me? You promised you'd keep me up to date on what was happening with Voldemort!”

“I don't know any of the details, unfortunately,” Dumbledore admitted, and he smiled briefly to himself as Hermione automatically got up from the couch and stood beside Harry so she could trace comforting patterns up and down his back with her hand. “Draco's mother pleaded with Professor Snape to help her son, but Draco did not take her into his confidence. Professor Snape has made numerous attempts to get Draco to confide in him, but he has resisted thus far. I was hoping Draco had accidentally revealed something to you during your confrontation, but alas, it was merely your instincts pointing you in the right direction.”

“If you know he's working for Voldemort, why is he still here? Why haven't you had him arrested?” Hermione asked.

“There are multiple reasons,” Dumbledore stated. “For one, if we were to have Draco arrested or expelled before we learned his objective, we would risk Voldemort passing this assignment on to another person sympathetic to his cause—perhaps someone we would not readily suspect. Knowing that Draco is at the centre of this plot, whatever it is, allows us to monitor him closely and be on the alert for anything out of the ordinary.”

Harry could see that that answer did not satisfy Hermione, but he actually found himself nodding in agreement with Dumbledore's logic. Voldemort seemed to be working on some scheme or another within Hogwarts every year. Until they were able to interrogate Draco and force the information out of him, he needed to stay exactly where he was.

“Also, I still hold out hope that Draco can be made to see the light and thus avoid making the same mistakes his father made at his age,” Dumbledore said.

Now Harry joined Hermione in giving Dumbledore a disgruntled look, but the Headmaster was not finished. “As far as we are aware, Draco has not broken any laws as of yet, and I consider that an encouraging sign,” he said. “I believe that he can be saved from this dark path before it is too late.”

“He doesn't want to be saved!” Harry growled. “Just because he hasn't acted yet doesn't change the fact that he's just as evil as his father!”

“An opinion that Professor Snape shares,” Dumbledore said sadly. “Yet he himself is proof positive that redemption is possible.”

“Whatever,” Harry said testily, before changing the subject. “What matters is finding out what Draco's mission is, and figuring out how to stop him.”

“On that, we agree,” Dumbledore said. “As I said, Professor Snape has made several overtures, but Draco has refused to cooperate. He will continue to reach out to Draco, and we will keep a very close eye on his activities. Beyond that, there is not much we can do at the present time.”

“That's it?” Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief. “What about veritaserum? Snape threatened me with that when he thought I was stealing from his storeroom. Why couldn't he use that to make Malfoy spill his secrets?”

“Or legilimency,” Hermione added. “I don't know if Draco has ever been taught occlumency, but I doubt he'd be able to repel someone like Professor Snape. Or you, Headmaster,” she finished. Both teens stared at Dumbledore expectantly, but their frustration grew when he shook his head.

“Unless they are suspected of having committed a crime, neither of those options are legal to use on a student without the express permission of the student or their guardian,” Dumbldore explained. “To use either of them would be condemning Draco as a criminal, someone beyond salvation, which is not something that I am prepared to do.”

“So that's it then? Just wait and see what he does?” Harry muttered, not believing what he was hearing.

“I would like to believe we're doing a bit more than that,” Dumbledore said softly, but the fire in Harry's eyes did not dim.

“I can't believe that you would put the entire castle and everyone in it at risk to try and save one nasty, foul, bigoted son of a bitch!” Harry shouted. Dumbledore looked taken aback at Harry's explosion, and many of the portraits of former Headmasters were complaining. But the only reaction Harry was concerned with was Hermione's. The nod of approval she gave him was enough for Harry, everyone else be damned.

“I think we'd better go, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “There's nothing more to be said.”

Harry nodded and allowed her to grasp his hand and lead him out of Dumbledore's office. Before he left, Harry turned his head to glare at Dumbledore one last time. The Headmaster looked profoundly sad, hunched over his desk with his eyes closed.

In different circumstances, Harry would have felt bad for the man. At the moment, though, he was too frustrated with Dumbledore's refusal to admit what was right in front of him. Harry did not doubt for a second that, given the time and the opportunity, Draco would wreak havoc within the walls of Hogwarts. He needed to be stopped, by any means necessary. If Dumbledore wasn't going to do anything about it, Harry would just have to look elsewhere.

--NMM--

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Hermione said to the group that had assembled in the Room of Requirement on short notice. Also present, aside from herself and Harry, were Ron (fresh from the first of many detentions he'd earned for his altercation with Malfoy earlier in the day), Neville, Luna and Ginny. The room had provided them with a circular table, and the 'Ministry Six', as the Daily Prophet had dubbed them, were seated around it.

“So what's going on, Hermione?” Neville asked. “Why'd you ask us all to meet up here in such a rush?”

“Earlier today, Harry and I had a meeting with Dumbledore,” Hermione said. “He told us that Voldemort has given Draco Malfoy some kind of mission to perform here at Hogwarts.” As she'd expected, the reaction from their four friends was immediate. With all four of them trying to speak at once, though, it was impossible to hear what any of them were actually saying.

“We don't know what the mission is, and neither does Dumbledore,” Harry said, raising his voice to be heard over the chatter.

“So what's he going to do about it?” Neville asked, and the other friends all looked to Harry expectantly. When Harry's only response was to scowl, they became quite confused.

“The Headmaster isn't prepared to take any action against Draco,” Hermione said, taking over for her seething boyfriend. The other four were stunned at first, but that turned to outrage very quickly.

“You've gotta be bloody joking!” Ron shouted. “He's got a Death Eater planning an attack in the castle and isn't going to do anything about it?!” His face was red with rage, and he looked as if he wanted nothing more than to leave the Room of Requirement, march down to the Slytherin dungeons and wipe Malfoy off the face of the Earth.

Hermione understood Ron's anger. It had been a Death Eater attack led by Voldemort himself that had cost him his eldest brother, Bill. Malfoy had even used that fact to taunt him earlier that very day. That the Headmaster would knowingly harbour someone who was working for Voldemort, even if it was a Hogwarts student who had yet to commit any of the atrocities Death Eaters were infamous for, had to be immensely frustrating for Ron in particular.

“That's Dumbledore for you,” Harry said. “Gather information that you fail to do anything with, and keep everyone else in the dark until it's far too late. We should be used to it by now.”

Ginny and Neville looked surprised to hear Harry speak about the Headmaster with such hostility, but she understood, as did Ron. Harry's opinion of the revered older wizard had taken a severe beating over the summer, one it had never fully recovered from. Incidents like this made it seem more and more likely that the two of them would never quite see eye to eye again.

“Dumbledore insists that he is having Draco closely monitored,” Hermione said, wanting to keep everyone's focus on the task at hand rather than getting sidetracked by Harry's issues with Dumbledore. “But I don't think it would hurt if we did a little observation of Draco ourselves.”

“Sod observation,” Ron said, banging his clenched fists on the table. “I want to break the ferret's nose all over again, and then snap his little scrawny neck.”

“Not if I get my hands on him first,” Harry said, “but Hermione is right. We can't move against Draco just yet.”

“Why the hell not?” Ron asked, frowning at Harry. Ginny and Neville looked similarly confused, but Luna nodded, smiling serenely.

“You wish to figure out what Draco is doing before you confront him,” Luna stated.

“That's it exactly, Luna,” Hermione agreed, smiling at the Ravenclaw. She'd always found Luna quite odd, but there was no denying that she also made some astute observations at times. “I was reluctant at first, but Harry has sold me on the idea. Voldemort will always be plotting and looking for ways to strike, but this time we have the chance to figure his game out beforehand. Then, we can use that knowledge to our advantage.”

“So how do we get to the bottom of it?” Ginny asked. “We can't just beat it out of him, unfortunately.” Ron looked as if he wanted to argue in favour of that plan of attack, but Harry shook his head.

“No, you're right,” Harry said. “Brute force and threats aren't likely to get Draco talking, not if he's as committed to Voldemort as I think he is. We don't have the means to brew veritaserum, and none of us have any legilimency training. There's no easy way for us to force the information out of him, unless any of you can think of something we've missed?”

There was a pause as all six friends tried to come up with another available solution they had overlooked. When no one spoke, Hermione spoke up. “Right. So, until and unless a better option comes along, we aren't going to act directly,” she said. “But we're going to track Malfoy very closely.”

“So basically, stay alert and wait and see,” Neville summarized. “I know we're more restricted with what we can do, but how is that really any different from what Dumbledore said he's doing?”

“Not even Dumbledore knows everything that goes on inside the castle,” Harry said. “But I have something not even Dumbledore has; something that will help us keep an eye on Draco at all times, no matter where he is.”

It didn't take Ron long to figure out what Harry was referring to. His fists finally unclenched, and his face lost a bit of the anger it had held for most of the day.

“The Map,” Ron said simply, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, that could work.”

“Map? What map?” Ginny asked, cocking her head curiously at Harry. Neville was also looking at him, interested in the answer. Luna was looking at him too, but her facial expression was as impossible to read as it had always been.

“This map,” Harry said, reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling out what would appear to the uninitiated to be nothing more than a blank piece of parchment. Ron and Hermione knew better, of course, and thus were unsurprised when a muttered phrase from Harry revealed the parchment's secret.

The same could not be said of the other three. Neville's eyes widened as he watched the map's transformation, and Ginny could be heard muttering under her breath. Luna stared down at the map, and Hermione marvelled at her ability to keep her eyes open for so long without a single blink.

“This is very fascinating, Harry,” Luna said, breaking the silence while continuing to stare at the map. “But where are our names?”

“What do you mean, Luna?” Hermione asked. “The map shows everyone in the castle.”

“Everyone but us,” Luna said, still not looking up from the map. Harry had also begun to examine the map after Luna's comment, and he frowned as he tried in vain to find their names.

“She's right,” Harry said, confused. “We're not on here, and I don't see the Room of Requirement either.”

“Maybe the room, and everything in it, is unplottable?” Hermione suggested. “Or maybe the Marauders just never found the room?”

“Maybe,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes as he continued to study the map. “I'll have to ask Remus—he's Moony,” he mentioned for the benefit of the three friends that had never seen the map until moments earlier. “Either way, it does show Draco's name on here, and that's all we really need it for right now.”

“You're right,” Hermione agreed, before glancing at all of their friends in turn. “Harry and I want to use the map to track Draco's activity as much as we can. Where he goes, and when he goes there. Who he talks to, who he avoids, who he follows around. We want to learn his regular routines as much as we can, and look for any deviations or anything that seems suspect.”

“We can't do it alone though, just the two of us,” Harry added. “That's what we wanted to talk to you guys about. We want you to help us with this.”

“What do you mean? Is there more than one of these maps?” Ginny asked, looking excited at the prospect of getting a Marauder's Map of her very own.

“No, we've only got just the one,” Harry said, chuckling at Ginny's disappointed sigh. “But Hermione and I can't spend all of our time staring at the map; we've got classes, prefect duties, training...”

“Don't forget quidditch,” Ron put in, and Hermione rolled her eyes, albeit with a smile on her face.

“How could I, mister captain?” Harry said with a smirk. “And on top of all that, I'm dating a beautiful witch that I'd like to spend some time with now and then.”

“I'm sure she feels the same way,” Hermione said, giving Harry a quick peck on the lips amidst wolf whistles from Ginny and exaggerated gagging from Ron. “As Harry was saying,” she continued despite the slight blush colouring her cheeks, “we have too many responsibilities to study Draco's movements as much as we think we need to. But we figure that if we pass the map back and forth amongst the six of us, we can keep a much closer eye on Draco.”

“That's a good idea,” Neville said. “We all have different class schedules and activities and such, so we could work out a timetable of sorts.”

“Right,” Harry said. “We can work out all the details in a bit, but first, we need to know if you're in. We wouldn't trust just anybody with this, but all of you stood by my side when I needed help last term. We trust all of you without question. Will you help us?”

“You know I'm with you like always, mate,” Ron said without hesitation. “I'd rather just pound the cocky arse's face in, but if Hermione says this is a good idea, I'm not stupid enough to disagree.”

“My brother is right, for once,” Ginny quipped, smirking over at Ron. “You can count me in.”

“Me as well,” Neville said.

“Yes, I'd very much like to help. It sounds quite fun,” Luna said happily.

“So we're all in then,” Hermione said. “Good. Between the six of us, this should be much easier to manage.”

“Thanks, you lot,” Harry said, nodding in gratitude towards his friends. “I don't trust too many people any more, but I trust all of you. If we work together, I know we can catch Draco before it's too late. And when we do, we'll stop him, no matter what Dumbledore or anyone else thinks.”

A/N: In case you don't regularly visit my profile over on FF dot net, I've made it a New Year's resolution to try and finish this story in 2013. Not a particularly lofty goal, maybe, but hopefully saying this will keep me motivated and help me avoid the long gaps between posting that I've been going through.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

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16. 16. Detention and Discussion

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing it for a bit of nonsense.

No More Mysteries

by: MayorHaggar

Chapter 16: Detention and Discussion

Harry watched impatiently as the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins left the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Malfoy was one of the first to leave, and he glared at Harry as he walked past. Harry itched to leap out of his seat and wrap his hands around the ferret's neck until he choked his scheme out of him, but he was able to resist the temptation.

Before long, only Harry, Hermione, Ron and Professor Lupin himself remained in the classroom. Lupin and Ron were standing on the opposite side of the room, ostensibly chatting, but Harry suspected they were actually giving he and Hermione a bit of privacy to say goodbye. Harry and Hermione rose together, and he helped her gather her things.

“Well, I suppose I'd better be off to Potions,” Hermione said reluctantly. “Tell me how it goes.”

“I will,” Harry promised with a nod, and he leaned in and gave her a kiss on the lips. She smiled tenderly at him before turning to wave at Ron and Lupin, and then she was gone. After she was out of sight, Lupin and Ron left their little corner and approached Harry.

“How about the three of us have a seat?” Lupin offered, and when Harry and Ron nodded their assent, he pulled his chair out from behind his desk and sat down, motioning that the two boys should sit opposite him.

“So,” Lupin began once everyone was settled, “are you prepared for the big quidditch match tomorrow?”

Ron winced beside him, and Harry knew Lupin had struck a sore spot. “I'm not allowed to play. I've got detention with Snape,” Ron said glumly, and Lupin nodded in sympathy.

“I had wondered about that,” the Defence professor said. “I spoke with the headmaster in your defence, given the extenuating circumstances that led to the incident with Draco, but I know Professor Snape was adamant that you should serve one of your detentions tomorrow, quidditch or no quidditch.”

“Big shocker there,” Harry said sarcastically, and Lupin smiled at him.

“I suppose it doesn't come as a surprise to see Professor Snape come down hard on you,” Lupin admitted. “But you must use this as a learning experience, Ron. No matter what is done or said, you must try and stay in control of your emotions. It is often difficult, and I will admit to not always managing it myself, but you have to do your best to try. Acting out of anger or rage will lead to mistakes, far more often than not.”

“I know,” Ron said, and Lupin smiled at the sincerity in his voice and on his face. “I'll try.”

“That is all anyone can ask for,” Lupin said. “And, look on the bright side: your punishment will be over and done with in plenty of time for you to play in the second match of the season.”

“Right,” Harry said, “but in the meantime the team has to put up with that git Cormac.”

“Ah, yes, Mister McLaggen. He is rather...brash,” Remus said diplomatically. Harry chuckled, and even Ron forgot his own misery long enough to crack a small smile.

“That's an understatement,” Harry said, shaking his head. Cormac had done pretty well during try-outs. Truthfully, he was probably Ron's equal as a keeper, and so he was made a reserve. But now that he was actually practising with the team regularly in Ron's absence, Harry was growing to dislike the cocky 7th year more with every passing day.

“I'm sure the team will do just fine, Harry,” Remus assured him, and Harry merely shrugged. They were probably more talented than the Ravenclaw squad, but losing Ron hurt. He had high hopes for the game, but wasn't about to underestimate their opponents.

“That aside, you asked to meet with me after class to discuss a problem you were having with the Marauder's Map?” Remus asked, moving on to the reason they'd approached him and asked for this chat.

“That's right,” Harry said. “We were looking at the map the other day while we were in the Room of Requirement, and we noticed that it didn't show either us or the room itself.”

“No, it wouldn't,” Lupin said. “The room itself is unplottable.”

“So there's no way we can use the map to track whether or not someone is in the room?” Ron asked, and Lupin shook his head in response. Harry sighed, both at the answer and at Ron asking a question Harry would have preferred to avoid, or at the very least word differently.

“No, that is not possible,” Remus stated, and then looked at Harry intently. “Can I assume this has something to do with Draco Malfoy?” Ron looked as if he was going to respond, but Harry cut him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“What if it does?” Harry asked, attempting to adopt a neutral expression. He liked Remus, and felt he was trustworthy overall, but he knew full well that the werewolf was a Dumbledore man through and through. That had shone through earlier in the term when he and Hermione had explained the reasons behind their lack of faith in the headmaster. Lupin had been sympathetic to their issues, but there was no doubt that he still trusted Dumbledore implicitly. Given his current feelings towards Dumbledore, specifically his handling of the Malfoy situation, Harry was reluctant to tell Lupin anything he didn't already know.

“Headmaster Dumbledore explained the situation to me,” Remus explained, surprising Harry. “He only did so after your conversation with him, though. He hoped that I would be able to convince you to step back and allow him to deal with Draco in his own way.”

“You can't,” Harry said simply. “Dumbledore isn't dealing with Draco; that's the problem. There's not much I can do at the moment, not as long as Dumbledore refuses to help. But I have to do something.”

“I understand,” Lupin sighed. “And frankly, I wasn't going to try and talk you out of it anyway. I owe Dumbledore more than I could ever say, but that doesn't mean I share his optimism about Draco. I'm not convinced that he has it in him to be a killer, but he could still be a threat to the safety of the school.”

“Will you help us, then?” Ron asked hopefully, but Harry knew from the resigned look on Lupin's face that their professor would be of no help to them with this problem.

“I don't think there's much I can do,” Lupin said with a frown. “I suppose I could contact Tonks about having the aurors investigate the situation, but I doubt they would be able to do much without solid proof. They certainly wouldn't have the legal right to administer veritaserum unless Draco or his mother allowed it, but we both know that isn't going to happen.”

“And I'm guessing you wouldn't help us get our hands on some veritaserum of our own, legal or not?” Harry asked. It was a long shot, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

“Absolutely not,” Lupin replied. “If it came down to a choice between Draco's rights and the safety of his fellow students, my choice would be easy. But I do not think the situation is that dire just yet. Even if I had easy access to veritaserum, which I do not, I am not ready to break both the law and Professor Dumbledore's trust. Not unless you can prove to me that lives are at stake.”

“I figured as much,” Harry said with a shrug. “You're Dumbledore's man, after all. You've looked to him for guidance and leadership for too long to be able to see that he makes mistakes just like the rest of us.”

“I know he has made mistakes, Harry, particularly where you were concerned,” Lupin admitted. “But the headmaster is a great man who tries to do the right thing. I may not always agree with his decisions, but I know that he has our best interests at heart. I hope you know that too.”

“I do,” Harry said. “But I'm not going to put my faith in him blindly. He's making a mistake with Draco, I know he is, and you are making a mistake in following his lead. But if none of you are going to stop Draco, we will.”

--NMM--

“Those parchments won't sort themselves, Weasley. I suggest you work harder if you wish to be released any time soon.”

Ron grumbled to himself as Snape strode past him, but he wasn't fool enough to let the head of Slytherin hear him. He stared down at the massive pile of unsorted parchments spread out around him and redoubled his efforts. Some were formulae for potions that had long ago become obsolete, some were student essays that had accumulated over several decades, and some had nothing at all on them. Ron had been given the unenviable task of sorting each one into its proper category so they could be catalogued. He doubted Snape would ever have any use for a single one of these parchments. In fact, he was convinced that Snape picked this task for that very reason, so all of Ron's effort during this detention would be utterly meaningless.

“The skies appear very clear today,” Snape said, his back to Ron as he stood facing the window. “It's not windy, either. Optimum quidditch weather, I would say.”

Ron scowled, but did not look up. Snape had been making little comments like that since the detention had begun. He knew how much it was killing Ron to be cooped up inside sorting parchments while the Gryffindor quidditch team played its first match of the season, and was rubbing his face in it at every opportunity. Ron knew that responding to his former professor's goading in any way would only land him in more trouble, so he did his best to ignore him and focus on the incredibly dull task he'd been assigned.

“It's a pity your temper landed you in here,” Snape went on. “I'm sure the Gryffindor team is considerably disadvantaged without their captain.”

Ron bristled at that remark, and his guilt over letting the team down threatened to overwhelm him. He gripped Benedict Bell's 1971 essay on flobberworm mucus so tightly that the parchment threatened to tear, but he managed to calm himself before Snape turned around. Snape stepped away from the window to examine Ron's progress, and though he did not look up, Ron thought he saw a hint of disappointment on the potion master's face.

“It is evident that you will not be finishing any time soon, so I must step out and attend to more important business,” Snape brusquely informed him. “Do not take this as an opportunity to avoid your responsibility, because I will expect you to have made significant progress by the time I return. Also, if you attempt to sneak out of my classroom for even a moment while I am gone, I will know. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Ron replied, still not looking up from the parchments. He continued sorting them for a few moments, well aware that Snape was standing by the door and watching him. Even after he heard the door open and then close behind Snape, he kept working for a few minutes just in case. Once he was quite convinced that Snape was indeed gone, Ron tapped the parchment sitting on top of the blank pile and whispered, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

One of the few benefits of this particular detention was that it gave Ron easy access to the Marauder's Map, and he had used said map to periodically check up on Draco Malfoy when he was sure Snape's attention was elsewhere. The fact that Draco was not in the stands watching quidditch with virtually every other student in the school was cause for alarm, but other than that, Ron had not seen anything suspicious. He'd been in the Slytherin dorms for a bit, and since then he'd been in the library.

Ron's eyes immediately went to the library, expecting to find Malfoy in the same location he'd last been in, but there was no one there except for the librarian herself. He then looked in and around the general area of the Slytherin dungeons, but Draco was not there either. Ron, now worried that Draco was taking advantage of the nearly deserted castle to carry out this mission of his, began searching for his dot in earnest. When he at last located Malfoy on the map, Ron froze.

He was right in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. He was trying to get into Gryffindor Tower.

Ron did not doubt Snape when he said that he would know if he tried to leave the room, and he knew that being caught doing so would result in more punishment being piled on top of what he was already facing. But the other five members of the 'Ministry Six' were all outside, either watching or playing in the match. It was up to him to stop Draco before he could break into the tower, even if it meant he wound up in detention every Saturday until he graduated from Hogwarts.

He hadn't brought anything with him aside from his wand and the map itself, so Ron was up and out of Snape's classroom in a flash. With virtually every student and much of the staff out of the castle for the quidditch match, the corridors were largely deserted. This made things much easier for Ron, who found his progress unimpeded as he ran as fast as he could. He had no time to look at the map and check whether or not Snape was in pursuit, so he could only hope that if he was, he would be able to catch Draco before the greasy-haired git could catch him.

Ron's luck held out, and he made it to the portrait in record time. What he saw upon arriving, however, caused him to draw up short. Where he was expecting to see Draco Malfoy, he instead saw Neville Longbottom. Neville appeared to be trying to convince the Fat Lady to let him in despite his having forgotten the password. This had actually been a fairly common sight in their first few years, but Neville had gotten much better at keeping the passwords straight since then.

That wasn't the most confusing part, of course. The real question was, why had Neville come back in the middle of the match? And, more to the point, where had Malfoy gone?

“Nev? Why aren't you at the match? Did you forget something?” Ron asked cautiously. His confusion only increased when Neville spun around and stared at him. Neville was wide-eyed and pale, and looked nothing like the brave Gryffindor he'd grown into over the past couple of years. Ron waited for Neville to answer, but when several seconds passed without a peep from the Longbottom heir, Ron spoke once again.

“So...Nev, have you seen Malfoy lurking around here?” Ron asked. Neville grew even paler after that question, and to Ron's utter bafflement, he stepped away from the portrait and took off on a dead run down the corridor. As he watched Neville flee, comprehension dawned on Ron.

That's not Neville; it's Malfoy. He's using polyjuice.

Without a second thought, Ron was off to give chase. He ignored the confused mutterings of an apparently tipsy Fat Lady and took several long strides in the same direction Malfoy had run, only to be abruptly stopped by a hard yank on the collar of his school robes. He squirmed to try and free himself, but his unknown assailant had a firm grip. Ron was forcibly spun around, and found himself face to face with an irate Snape.

“I told you I would know,” Snape snarled, and he glared at Ron with such anger that the redhead felt a chill run down his spine.

--NMM--

“I think that is enough for today, Harry,” Dumbledore said, sounding rather winded after spending the better part of the evening tutoring Harry. “You're making great progress.”

Harry nodded and wiped some sweat off of his face as he put his wand away. “Thank you, sir,” he said, sincerely. His feelings about Dumbledore, particularly his decisions and his methodology, weren't very positive. But the headmaster had been true to his word about teaching Harry things that would hopefully be of use when Harry inevitably found himself in battle against Voldemort and/or his followers.

Their meetings had been infrequent as a result of the myriad responsibilities each of them had to deal with, but Harry found every one very beneficial. Dumbledore didn't teach Harry all that many spells, though there was the occasional obscure curse or defensive charm that Dumbledore would introduce if he thought they could be of use. The main focus of their one on one meetings was how to best utilize the spells in Harry's arsenal in a variety of different scenarios. Dumbledore had pretty much seen it all, and Harry knew that the battle-tested experience he was sharing was going to be invaluable.

All that said, he was still frustrated with Dumbledore's refusal to act against Draco.

“I'm guessing you haven't changed your mind about Malfoy,” Harry said. Two days had passed since Gryffindor's victory over Ravenclaw, but due to Dumbledore's obligations both inside and outside of Hogwarts, this would be Harry's first opportunity to talk to him about what had happened inside the castle while he was busy hunting the snitch He accepted the goblet of water that Dumbledore offered him, and took a healthy swig while waiting for an answer.

“No, I have not,” Dumbledore said after a pause. Harry sighed, but he couldn't claim to be surprised. Ron had explained both how the Marauder's Map worked and what he had seen on said map, but Dumbledore had yet to do anything with the information.

“Do you not trust the map?” Harry asked. “Because it's never failed me before, and polyjuice doesn't fool it, either.”

“I do not doubt the accuracy of the map,” Dumbledore assured him after taking a sip from his own goblet. “Nor do I think your friend Mister Weasley was being deceitful. As your Head of House herself was able to assure me that Mister Longbottom was in the stands and did not depart until after the match was over, I readily accept that Mister Malfoy disguised himself as your friend Neville and was attempting to gain access to Gryffindor Tower.”

“So why hasn't Draco been punished, then?” Harry demanded. “This proves that he's up to something!”

“It proves that he was trying to gain unauthorized access to Gryffindor Tower. It is against school rules to do so, and Draco could receive several detentions as a result. But I trust that you do not want this map of yours to become common knowledge, correct?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry shook his head in the negative.

“Without the map, we would have no reason to single out Draco as the individual trying to pass themselves off as Neville Longbottom,” Dumbledore explained. Harry thought it over for a moment and reluctantly nodded.

“If all he'd get is a few detentions, it's not worth letting anyone I don't trust know about the map,” Harry admitted. “But I don't see why you won't do anything more than that. Doesn't the fact that he was trying to break into Gryffindor Tower prove that Draco is actively trying to carry out this mission of his? That he's made his choice, and you're putting everyone in danger for nothing?”

“That is one interpretation,” Dumbledore said, causing Harry to roll his eyes. “However, attempting to enter the dormitories of a House other than one's own is not cause for the rather extreme measures you would like to see me take. I have heard rumours that your friends Fred and George Weasley found themselves in a similar predicament on occasion. Even you yourself sometimes wind up in places you really shouldn't, you must admit.”

“I do,” Harry agreed, “but you never had to worry about me, Fred or George trying to kill anyone.”

“You don't know that Draco is trying to do so, either,” Dumbledore said. Harry shook his head as if to argue the point, but Dumbledore continued on. “We don't know what Draco's task is. It may not involve violence at all. In fact, Draco's attempt to break into Gryffindor Tower while everyone else was outside would suggest that it doesn't.”

“Or maybe he was trying to slip some kind of poison or lethal potion to someone in Gryffindor,” Harry retorted, using the theory Hermione had come up with. Dumbledore reluctantly nodded in admission that that was a possibility, but said no more on the subject. It went without saying that if that truly was what Malfoy had been attempting, Harry himself had in all likelihood been the target.

“I thought you were keeping a very close eye on Draco,” Harry said, repeating the phrase Dumbledore himself had used when he'd first admitted that Harry's suspicions about Malfoy were correct. “So why was Ron the first one to show up?”

“Alas, an oversight,” Dumbledore sighed. “We had assumed that Draco, an avid fan of the sport, would attend the quidditch match like the majority of the school, and thus our observation of his movement was not as keen as it should have been. It was a most unfortunate error on my part.”

“Not the first time someone's managed to sneak around right under your nose,” Harry said sarcastically, thinking of Quirrellmort, escaped convict Sirius, and Barty Crouch Jr. posing as Alastor Moody for months on end. Dumbledore nodded at Harry, looking just as sad and defeated as he had the last time they'd argued about his handling of Malfoy.

“You are unfortunately correct,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I am not perfect, Harry. I make mistakes like everyone else, as you yourself have learned all too well. I wish that I had the means to go back and correct some of my more egregious errors, but I do not. All that I can do is continue to trust in my judgement, and hope that I am doing the right thing. I know that you disagree with me about Draco Malfoy, but to do what you ask of me would be immoral, in my view. I hope you can at least respect my thoughts on this matter, even if you don't agree with them.”

“I understand why you feel the way that you do,” Harry replied evenly. “But we've already been over this. If you aren't convinced yet, I see no point in having the same argument again.”

“Very well, Harry,” Dumbledore said, both sounding and looking relieved that their biggest point of contention would be shelved for the time being. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss before we part for the evening?”

“There is, actually,” Harry said. “I've been wondering, if I beat Voldemort...”

“When you beat him,” Dumbledore interrupted, and Harry saw that his eyes had regained their customary twinkle. “I have the utmost faith in you, Harry, and do not doubt that you will be victorious in the end.”

“OK, when I beat him, then,” Harry corrected himself. He didn't have the same unwavering confidence about his prospects as Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron, among others. He knew better than to voice those doubts, though, as it would only lead to an argument. “When I beat him, how do we know he'll be gone for good this time?”

“I assume you ask because Voldemort's soul lived on after his body was destroyed that night in Godric's Hollow?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry nodded at him.

“Yeah. I mean, if he can come back from that, is there anything he can't come back from? Is he even mortal? He said something in the graveyard about coming closer to immortality than any other wizard,” Harry stated.

“There is no such thing as immortality,” Dumbledore answered. “Despite what Tom may say or think, my dear friend Nicolas Flamel likely came closest. Yet even he was not immortal. Not truly. And neither is Lord Voldemort, I assure you.”

“How did he survive, then?” Harry pressed. It was reassuring to hear him dismiss Harry's fears, but even if Dumbledore were right, what difference would it make if Voldemort had some trick up his sleeve that would prevent Harry (or anyone else) from finishing him off?

Dumbledore didn't respond right away, which did nothing to ease Harry's uncertainty. He seemed to be debating the best way to frame his response, while Harry waited impatiently for the answer.

“What happened on the night of October 31st, 1981 was unusual in so many ways,” Dumbledore finally began. “You wouldn't be able to recreate those circumstances if you tried.” He went silent again, obviously considering his words, and Harry decided not to rush him. It was a shorter pause this time before Dumbledore spoke. “Do you know what saved you that night, Harry?” he asked.

“My mother's love,” Harry answered automatically. “She sacrificed herself so I could live.”

“Exactly correct,” Dumbledore nodded. “But tell me, Harry: do you believe that your parents were the only ones who willingly gave their lives in an effort to protect their children from Voldemort or his Death Eaters?”

“I guess not,” Harry replied after considering the question momentarily. “I've never really thought about it much, but I guess most parents would probably do anything for their kids. I know Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would. Hermione's parents too. Heck, even my Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would probably sacrifice themselves to save Dudley.”

“I'm sure they would, if they truly love their son,” Dumbledore agreed. “Your parents made that ultimate sacrifice for you, but they were not unique in that regard. What made that incident different from all of the others was that Lord Voldemort gave your mother an option that none of his other victims had been given. He gave her the chance to save herself.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, stunned. He'd definitely never heard that part of the story before. “Why?”

“It was in honour of a promise he'd made to one of his followers,” Dumbledore answered. “That follower pleaded with him to spare your mother, and since his objective was to kill you and thus prevail over the potential child of prophecy, Lord Voldemort agreed. After he killed your father, Voldemort gave your mother the chance to leave Godric's Hollow unharmed. Her life would have been spared if she'd stepped aside and allowed him to kill you. She refused, obviously, and he was forced to kill her to get to you. This act, dying to protect you even when she was given the chance to save herself, invoked an ancient magic that served to protect you from Voldemort. That is what caused his killing curse to fail.”

“OK, so that explains why I survived,” Harry said. “But what about him? Why didn't his killing curse destroy him completely, body and soul together?”

“That is a more difficult question to answer, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “No one can answer it with absolute certainty, not even Voldemort himself. Perhaps it was an odd side effect of the ancient magic your mother's sacrifice invoked. It is also possible that the simple act of a killing curse rebounding—something which has never happened otherwise, before or since—warped the curse in some way. Regardless of the precise reason, though, I feel quite confident in saying that it is not a scenario that will repeat itself. Lord Voldemort is an exceedingly powerful wizard, but he is just as mortal as you are.”

“I guess that's good enough for me,” Harry said grudgingly. While he didn't agree with Dumbledore's methods, he knew the man was just as committed to stopping Voldemort as he was, and saw no reason for him to lie about something like this.

“Very good, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a broad smile on his face. “I am glad I could ease your concern about this subject. “Now, is there anything else?”

“One more thing,” Harry said. “I was wondering about that follower you mentioned, the one who pleaded for my mother's life.”

“Alas, that is not my story to tell, Harry,” Dumbledore answered, looking pained. Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Dumbledore merely shook his head. “I swore not to speak of it. You are the first I've told even that much, and even that was something of a betrayal of trust. I am sorry, but I can say no more.”

That answer did not exactly appease Harry, but he knew that was as much as he was getting out of his secretive headmaster. As they bade each other a good evening, Harry mulled over what he'd learned. Dumbledore had cleared up one mystery for him, but in the process, he'd replaced it with a new one.

--NMM--

“What did you summon me for this time, Dumbledore?” Snape asked curtly as he seated himself in the Headmaster's Office. “I've had a long day attempting to teach potions to unappreciative brats, so I would like to get this over with as soon as possible.”

“I will keep that in mind, Severus,” Dumbledore said, his eyes doing that damnable twinkling that never failed to grate on Snape's last nerve. “I called for you because I wished to discuss a rather important conversation I had with Mister Potter earlier this evening.”

“And what makes you think I am interested in hearing about what that boy had to say?” Snape scoffed. “I know you believe that he can do no wrong, but I see him for what he truly is.”

“Come now, Severus,” Dumbledore scolded. “I know that young Harry impressed you with his performance in Advanced Defence.”

Snape scowled at Dumbledore, but made no other response to his comment. It was true, but Snape wasn't about to give Dumbledore the satisfaction of admitting it. Besides, looking capable against fellow Hogwarts students was a far cry from defeating actual Death Eaters, or even the Dark Lord himself. Dumbledore sighed and shook his head, but Snape refused to budge.

“I see you are just as stubborn as ever, my friend,” Dumbledore said. “If you were ever to set your old grudges aside and judge Harry purely on his own merits, I think you would see just how capable he is. The two of you actually have more in common than you imagine.”

“I beg to differ,” Snape spat angrily. How dare the old fool compare him to the son of James bloody Potter!

“It is true, Severus,” Dumbledore insisted. “Both of you feel that I am making a mistake in my handling of Draco Malfoy. In fact, Harry and Miss Granger have urged me to make use of veritaserum or legilimency on Draco, just as you continue to.”

“That's because it is the clear solution, as I have said all along. If even Potter can see that, perhaps you should admit you were wrong and take action before it is too late.”

Snape's words had little effect, though he hadn't truly expected them to. Once Dumbledore got an idea in his head, it was nigh impossible for Snape to change his mind or force him to reconsider.

“I am not ready to resort to those measures,” Dumbledore insisted, just as Snape had expected him to. “If I change my mind, you will be the first to know. Until then, I wish for you to monitor Mister Malfoy as usual, and periodically attempt to gain his trust.”

“It won't work, but I've said that several times and you've ignored me without fail, so I won't waste my breath,” Snape said. “Did you call me in here for something of greater importance than trying to convince me to coddle Potter? If not, I will take my leave.”

“Draco was not the only topic we discussed,” Dumbledore said quickly before Snape could stand up. “Harry was also worried about Voldemort potentially being immortal.”

“How droll. Did he also tell you he was afraid the Dark Lord is actually The Warlock from The Warlock's Hairy Heart?”

“He had legitimate reason to be concerned, Severus, given the history between he and Voldemort,” Dumbledore said as he gave Snape a disapproving frown. “As such, I shared with him my belief as to how Voldemort's soul survived that night, and what separated his mother's sacrifice from all others.”

“You didn't,” Snape hissed, outraged. If looks could kill, Hogwarts would be looking for a new headmaster in the morning. “You swore to me you would never tell anyone!”

“I told him that Voldemort attempted to spare Lily at the behest of one of his followers. But he does not know it was you, nor does he know why you wished for Lily to be spared,” Dumbledore clarified, but Snape shook his head angrily.

“How hard do you think it will be for Potter to figure out that it was me?” Snape said heatedly. “I'm the only former Death Eater that you trust. Even a dolt like Potter won't take very long to reach the obvious conclusion.”

“No, I suppose not,” Dumbledore admitted wearily. “Perhaps I revealed more than I should have, but he deserved to know the truth, Severus. I have hidden far too much from him in the past, and it has had catastrophic repercussions. I am not about to let him go off into battle against Voldemort uncertain of his chances. Not if I can help it.”

“Justify it to yourself however you want, Dumbledore. You have betrayed me. I have lied, spied and risked my life for you, but you have broken your word to me despite all of it.”

“I suppose I have, but I do not regret it,” Dumbledore said frankly. “That boy is our best hope, Severus. Our only hope. When the time comes, he must face Voldemort with a head clear of doubts or uncertainty. If helping him do so changes things between us irrevocably, that is a price I am willing to pay.”

“Of course you are. Anything in the name of the 'greater good', right Albus?” Snape taunted, knowing that the reminder of Grindelwald would wound Dumbledore. And indeed it did, as the older wizard flinched as if he'd been slapped across the face. Snape knew he was being petty, but given what Dumbledore had done to him, he relished the chance to lash out at him.

“I do not blame you for being angry with me, Severus,” Dumbledore finally said after a long moment of tense silence. “That's something else you and Harry have in common, you know.”

“We're hardly alone in that,” Snape said dryly, and Dumbledore smiled at him.

“That is likely,” Dumbledore responded, chuckling. “It is not, however, the only other thing you and Harry have in common.” Snape scowled, but Dumbledore held up his hand before he could reply. “Please, Severus, hear me out. Whatever the differences between the two of you, you share one very vital goal: you both want to see Lord Voldemort destroyed, for good. The two of you wish for that with a fervour that surpasses even mine. If only you both could see that, this needless hostility could cease, and you could join me in helping Harry prepare to meet his destiny.”

“That will never happen,” Snape said firmly. “I have done my part to keep the boy alive for Lily's sake. Not yours, not his, but Lily's. But that boy is every bit his father's son. Aside from that, he has never shown me the slightest respect. Even if I attempted to pass my expertise on to him, he would have no interest in listening to what I had to say.”

“If you gave him a chance, I think you would be pleasantly surprised,” Dumbledore insisted. “Of course, there is one other thing linking you and Harry together. It is the strongest bond of them all.” Snape stared at Dumbledore blankly, confused. “Love, Severus,” Dumbledore continued. “Your mutual love for Lily Evans-Potter.”

“You go too far,” Snape said, his voice dangerously low. But Dumbledore either didn't get the hint of warning, or chose to ignore it.

“If you would only tell Harry the truth, the two of you would surely find common...”

“ENOUGH!” Snape exploded, shooting up out of his chair and staring, wild-eyed, at Dumbledore. “We will never speak of this again.”

Without another word, Snape stomped out of Dumbledore's office and back to his quarters, fuming. The gall of that man, asking him to reach out to the son of James Potter! Perhaps the boy really did have the potential to defeat the Dark Lord, even if Snape had his doubts. But one thing was for sure: there would never be anything but dislike between the two of them.

Not for the first time, Snape found himself second-guessing his choices, his priorities, and his loyalties. He had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.

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