No More Mysteries by 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.




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.

-->



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 fiancé
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.

-->



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 28**th**, 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
-->



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
fiancé. 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...
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



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 fiancée 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.
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



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
-->



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
-->



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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