Preface

Harry Potter and the Curse of the Damned

by: Melindaleo

Disclaimer: These stories are based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

This story begins just prior to Harry's seventeenth birthday. For prior years see JK Rowlings' series of 5 earlier books on Harry Potter and MelindaLeo's earlier book entitled Harry Potter and the Power of Emotion.

Seventh-year sequel to Power of Emotion - read that one first. Harry is recovering from his captivity at the end of his sixth year, but he's hiding how much it's affecting him. With his powers increasing, and Voldemort now aware of the Prophecy, can Harry find the secret to destroying him before Voldemort learns of the existence of the Ancient Texts? Would this be Harry Potter fanfiction if it was that easy?

copyright: July 2005
www.melindaleo.com - all rights reserved

Table of Contents

- Preface

- Chapter One: Alone Again

- Chapter Two: Reunion

- Chapter Three: Broken Wings

- Chapter Four: Money Changes Everything

- Chapter Five: End of an Era

- Chapter Six: Recovering...Again

- Chapter Seven: Political Maneuvering

- Chapter Eight: A Much Needed Break

- Chapter Nine: Of Legal Age

- Chapter Ten: Loss of a Brother

- Chapter Eleven: Funeral For a Friend

- Chapter Twelve: Back Where We Belong

- Chapter Thirteen: Feast of Fools

- Chapter Fourteen: Calm Before the Storm

- Chapter Fifteen: Defense Against the Dark Arts

- Chapter Sixteen: Riddle...Tom Riddle

- Chapter Seventeen: Vendetta

- Chapter Eighteen: Quidditch, Anyone?

- Chapter Nineteen: It All Hits the Fan

- Chapter Twenty: All Hallow's Eve

- Chapter Twenty-One: Blizzard

- Chapter Twenty-Two: A Muggle Christmas

- Chapter Twenty-Three: And the Mighty Will Fall

- Chapter Twenty-Four: Summons

- Chapter Twenty-Five: Sacrifice

- Chapter Twenty-Six: The Winds of Change

- Chapter Twenty-Seven: It Begins...

- Chapter Twenty-Eight: Back in the Chamber

- Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Curse of the Damned

- Chapter Thirty: Survivors

- Chapter Thirty-One: Dawn of a New Era

- Chapter Thirty-Two: The Journey Home

- Order of Merlin, First Class

- Chapter Thirty-Three: Epilogue

Chapter One: Alone Again

Harry Potter stared miserably out the window of his uncle’s luxury sedan as it drove down the highway towards Little Winging. The positive energy and cheerfulness he’d felt saying good bye to his friends rapidly dissipated under the Dursleys’ hateful glares. The heat he’d felt upon exiting the Hogwart’s Express continued unmercifully. He was permanently hot and sticky, adding to his distemper.

Harry was on summer break after experiencing a particularly difficult end of term. He and his best friend, Ron, had been kidnapped and held captive for over a week by the fanatical followers of Lord Voldemort. During that time, Harry had been tortured and abused by Death Eaters, and left in a cell with a Dementor, before ultimately battling against the Dark Lord himself. He’d barely escaped with his life, and the experience had left him drained of both his physical strength and his magical energy, not to mention the psychological trauma. He’d been sent home to recuperate under the watchful eye of the Order of the Phoenix.

The ride home was very similar to the previous year, with Aunt Petunia ranting about the public scene in the train station and the disgraceful company Harry kept. Uncle Vernon nodded his head at her tirade, sporadically throwing in his own complaints. Only Dudley had refrained from commenting, seeming to shrink to his own side of the car in an effort to keep as much distance as possible between himself and Harry. Shrinking into anything was not an easy feat for Dudley, and Harry was somewhat amused by his efforts. His eyes were wide, and he jumped if Harry so much as shifted his position. Harry wondered if the Memory Charm that had been placed on Dudley after the attack last Christmas was somehow faulty. Dudley seemed far more intimidated by Harry than he’d ever been before.

They were about halfway to Surrey when Aunt Petunia let loose a tirade against Bill. "Just who does he think he is? Assuming he can tell us who to allow in and out of our own home. I will not have anyone looking like…like…like a gigolo entering my home. What will people think? Why doesn’t he get a decent haircut and at least try to appear respectable? And that earring! Absolutely not. I’m telling you right now, you will tell him to look normal before he’s allowed to call. And when he’s visiting, he will remain in your room. I don’t want to have to see either of you, and I won’t tolerate a mess in the den."

Uncle Vernon, who appeared to be waiting for the chance to have a go at Harry, joined his wife’s fury. "You are even more stupid than I always thought you were if you think we are going to leave our own home to go spend time with even more freaks like you. I’m telling you, boy, I won’t have it. You tell that pansy that if he’s going to be coming over, he has to put on normal clothes, cover that hair and NO earring. What kind of man wears an earring? Not one I’ll have in my home, I’m telling you. I don’t want to see him any more than I want to see you, so stay in the room, or you’ll be locked in. And if he expects to eat, he’ll have to bring his own. I won’t be responsible for feeding any more freeloaders."

Harry held his tongue, although he wanted to let loose a few choice words of his own. He had to stay with them until he turned seventeen, and that was only about six weeks away. He could do it. He’d put up with them and their threats and complaints for years; he couldn’t break now that the end was in sight. He did think that Aunt Petunia calling Bill a ‘gigolo’ was rather funny.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he mumbled, biting hard on the inside of his cheek. He felt truly miserable, and their antagonizing him wasn’t helping. That little bit of magic he’d performed on the train, playing a joke on Ron, had really wiped him out and left him feeling so discouraged. He’d put up with so much abuse from the Dursleys over the years, but he’d always relied on his own willpower. Somehow, he’d always managed to get through it. Now, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and let someone else solve things for a while. He hated the tired, restless feeling and wished it would hurry up and pass. The heat certainly wasn’t helping. It drained what little energy he had, and made his shirt stick to his back uncomfortably.

When they arrived at number four Privet Drive, Aunt Petunia had stormed into the house without another word, her head held haughtily in the air. Uncle Vernon had turned towards Harry, who was slowly pulling himself out of the car, using the door for support. "Take that trunk and the rest of your things up to your room quickly, before anyone sees any of your abnormality. If you don’t move quickly, I’ll lock the rest under the stairs until we’re rid of you." He smirked without any warmth, and stomped after Aunt Petunia.

Harry sighed, looking at the heavy trunk and Hedwig’s cage. He knew he didn’t have the strength to lug them up the stairs. Dudley stood there, watching him for a moment, a strange expression on his face.

"What?" Harry asked, his shoulders sagging, expecting another taunt.

Dudley hesitated a moment, then shook his head and waddled in after his parents. Harry had opened Hedwig’s cage and let her loose. "You can fly up to the window yourself, can’t you, girl? I’ll open it as soon as I get there."

Hedwig flew out gracefully, cuffing Harry on the side of his head affectionately as she did. Harry put the cage on the ground and attempted to move the trunk. After several failed attempts – and using up most of his remaining energy – Harry finally gave up and leaned heavily against the boot of the car. He wondered if Dobby had arrived yet. Maybe he could ask him for some help levitating the trunk. Harry discarded the idea as quickly as it came. Asking Dobby for anything was always risky – he tended to get over-excited – and he didn’t want to see the Dursleys’ reaction if they witnessed his things flying at top speed through the house.

He flipped open the trunk and dug out his Invisibility cloak, the Marauder’s map, his photo albums, and a few other private things, and decided he’d just have to make a few trips to get what he absolutely needed up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the car and took a few shaky steps toward the house. He was exhausted, and his legs felt like someone had hit him with a powerful Jelly-Legs Curse. He could feel the sweat rolling down his back, and he swayed on his feet as the world began swimming.

Suddenly, he felt a firm grip on his arm, jerking him back to awareness. He momentarily flashed on a cold, dark cell as a feeling of complete helplessness washed over him. Breathing deeply and trying to orient himself to where he was, he stared in confusion at the angry face of Bill Weasley. Blinking in rapid succession, Harry just looked at Bill, waiting for him to speak. The eldest Weasley brother swore beneath his breath and flung Harry’s arm over his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and jerked his wand towards the trunk. Harry heard him mutter both a Confundus and a Levitation Charm so the trunk, with Hedwig’s cage perched on top, followed them into the house. The Confundus Charm would ensure that any of Aunt Petunia’s nosy friends who happened to be peering out their windows would see nothing out of the ordinary.

"Damn it, Harry," Bill snarled. "I thought I’d take a walk by and see that you’d arrived safely. It’s a good thing I did. Why didn’t anybody help you with this trunk?"

Harry would have laughed if he wasn’t been so tired. As if the Dursleys would willing help him with anything. Bill had no idea with whom he was dealing. Harry was embarrassed that he was leaning so heavily on Bill, but he couldn’t help it. "They aren’t going to like this," he said, indicating the floating trunk with a jerk of his head.

"I don’t give a damn what they’re going to like. It’s high time we had a discussion and set some ground rules with your relatives," Bill snapped. "Obviously, our general warnings haven’t made much of an impact."

He wanted to argue with Bill and tell him he’d only make it worse, but he knew Bill had the best of intentions. He was saved further consideration as they entered the front door; Aunt Petunia promptly screamed at seeing the floating trunk, startling Bill and causing him to lose his concentration. The trunk fell to the ground with a loud thud.

"What do you think you are doing?" Aunt Petunia screeched. "It’s the middle of the day; anyone could have seen you. How dare you?" Her pale skin had a rosy stain, and her long neck was stretched full out. It was a look she reserved for when she was her most furious.

Bill, however, didn’t seem cowed, at all. He’d turned almost lazily to face her, but Harry could see the telltale red stain on his Weasley ears revealing his anger. "Now, Mrs. Dursley, I know you have been informed that Harry was just released from hospital yesterday and would require some assistance. It must be this dreadful heat that made it slip your mind. I apologize for using magic in your home; I’ve been told you don’t approve. I’ll make certain to control myself in the future. Of course, I’m certain you realize it was the best way to aid Harry inside. As long as he’s doing okay, I don’t see any reason I’ll need to use any of my more…special abilities again." He let his words, and the underlying threat, lie in the open.

Aunt Petunia paled, but she was angry enough not to flee. "See that you don’t. I won’t have my home, or anyone in it, the subject of neighborhood gossips. If you insist on traipsing in here at all hours, use the back door and try to be inconspicuous."

"Mrs. Dursley, if you would merely agree to accompany your nephew to a safer location for a few weeks, you would have no reason to fear what the neighbors might see."

"I won’t have a reason to fear it when you take him out of here and never return. I’ll celebrate the day when he, and all of you, are out of our lives for good. I will not be forced from my home and into the company of…of….of freaks just for the sake of him." Her lip curled as if Harry were something extremely unpleasant stuck on the bottom of her shoe.

Bill’s lips thinned until they nearly disappeared from his face. "Very well. You," he snapped, pointing at Dudley, "help carry that trunk upstairs so I won’t offend your mother’s delicate sensibilities with the use of any more magic."

Dudley hesitated for an instant before grasping the heavy trunk and dragging it up towards Harry’s room. Bill ignored Aunt Petunia’s hiss at his use of the word ‘magic,’ and nearly had to carry Harry up the stairs to his bedroom. Dudley had entered the room and dropped the trunk in the center of the floor, then turned to watch as Bill followed with Harry.

Harry noticed Bill staring at all of the locks on the outside of his bedroom door; Bill’s brow creased as his lips once again formed a very thin line before disappearing completely. His eyes scanned the small room, taking in the stacks of Dudley’s old toys and discarded items against the wall, the rickety, old bed with its threadbare coverlet, the faded and torn throw rug on the floor. The paint on the walls was chipped, and the desk looked as if it would collapse if anything were placed upon it. None of the drawers closed right; the runners had been broken long ago.

Harry shifted uncomfortably at having Bill in his room. His obvious disapproval was making Harry feel ashamed, and he didn’t want to meet the older man’s eyes. Although he was grateful for the assistance, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep until he felt better. He was ready for Bill to take his leave, but didn’t want to be rude. Harry needed to use the loo, but wasn’t certain if he could make it there on his own. He hated showing weakness and was determined not to let Bill see any more of it from him. This was Ginny’s oldest brother, and she obviously admired him very much. Harry didn’t want to appear as anything less than competent in Bill’s eyes.

"Come on, Harry. Why don’t you change into something cooler, and then you can have a kip. I’m going to speak with your aunt, but I’ll be back tomorrow," Bill said, handing Harry a T-shirt from his trunk.

Harry peeled off his sticky shirt and heard Dudley’s sharp intake of breath; Harry had forgotten he was still there. He looked over to see Dudley staring in revulsion at Harry’s bare chest. Confused, he followed his cousin’s gaze and realized that Dudley was staring at the vivid bruises still marring his torso. Harry turned his back to Dudley and quickly covered up with the T-shirt.

Bill wasn’t about to let it go so easily. "You can see that we weren’t joking about Harry’s injuries. He’s had a rough time of it; it would be decent of you to help him out on occasion."

Dudley’s mouth opened in what looked to be an angry retort, but instead, he clamped it shut and stormed out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Dobby appeared in the room, as if he’d been waiting for Dudley to leave.

"Harry Potter!" he squealed, wrapping himself around Harry’s legs and causing him to stumble to the bed. "Dobby is so happy to be here. We is goings to be having a wonderful summer together, Harry Potter, sir. Yes we is. Dobby is so pleased to be given the job of taking care of Harry Potter."

Dobby pulled several phials of various potions from his sack. "Dobby has made his sleeping arrangements, and all you need be doing when you needs me is saying Dobby’s name." He handed Harry a phial, and Harry gulped the contents without even asking what it was. He’d taken too many of them in recent days to question them all any more.

"All right, Dobby," Bill said, smiling at the exuberant house-elf. "You seem to have things well enough in hand. I’m going to go downstairs and have a talk with Harry’s aunt. You make certain this door stays shut and don’t let anyone in here for the remainder of the night. Let Harry have a lie-in tomorrow if he wants."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Wheezy, sir. Dobby will not let any of Mr. Harry Potter’s nasty relatives in. He’ll be sleeping soundly all night."

Dobby had handed Harry a pair of pyjama bottoms, and Harry was just tying the drawstring when a thought occurred to him. Last year, Uncle Vernon had been at the end of his rope with Harry’s nightmares. After the events at Malfoy Manor, Harry’s nights had been far from peaceful. In fact, they’d been rather violent…he shuddered and forced his mind away from the memories.

"Bill," he asked tentatively, "would you, er…mind, um…putting a Silencing Charm on my room?"

Bill looked at Harry sharply. "Beg pardon?"

Harry colored and looked at the floor. "Er…sometimes Hedwig makes noise during the night, and it wakes my uncle."

Harry chanced a quick glance at Bill and saw him looking back at Harry with a very thoughtful expression. Nodding his acquiescence, he cast the charm on the door to Harry’s room.

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

"Harry," Bill said, "if you need anything else – a Dreamless Sleep Potion, perhaps – just let me know, and I’ll try to arrange one for you."

Harry’s face colored brilliantly in shame. "Thanks; that might be a good idea," he said quietly, not daring to look at Bill again.

Bill put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Are you going to be all right here?"

Dobby answered for Harry. "Oh, we is going to be fine. Harry Potter has a full bladder, but as soon as we takes care of that, he’s going to be going to bed."

"Sweet Merlin," Harry cursed under his breath, coloring even more deeply.

Bill chuckled at Harry’s obvious discomfort with Dobby’s outspoken nature. His modesty was about to butt heads with Dobby’s enthusiasm, and Bill didn’t think poor Harry’s dignity stood a chance. "Be certain to help him with that, Dobby, no matter how much he protests. He’s nowhere near as well as he’s going to tell you he is, so keep a close eye on him. Harry, I’ll return in the morning, and we can begin our research."

Bill left Harry alone with an over-enthused Dobby. The rest of the evening was a blur to him, and he was certain later that he’d just blocked the memory. Harry had struggled to get up and off the bed to use the loo, until Dobby volunteered to hold a cup for him as a bedpan. Harry thought he was going to die of embarrassment before Voldemort ever got to him again. Declining politely, he dragged himself out of the bed and clutched the wall for support. Despite his protests and bruised ego, Harry was forced to lean on Dobby, as he was guided to the bathroom. The elf refused to allow him his privacy even in the loo itself. Harry had spent enough time in the hospital wing at Hogwarts to know he should simply leave his dignity at the door, but, somehow, with Dobby acting as nursemaid, it seemed ten times worse than Madam Pomfrey’s quick, no-nonsense attitude. Dobby liked to talk about everything he was doing. Between the Dursleys’ contempt and Dobby’s exuberance, this summer was going to be an endless test of his patience.

Harry collapsed on his bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. He woke only once during the night, which actually made for a good night for him, but he’d panicked slightly at the pitch-black quietness of the room. When he managed to control his breathing and uncurl himself from a fetal position, he flicked on the lamp that sat on his dresser, looking around for Dobby. The elf was no where in sight, but Harry was certain that if he called, Dobby would be there. He’d have to ask him where he slept. He pulled a letter that had arrived with Errol before he went to bed off his desk. Ginny’s note was brief, merely letting him know they’d arrived safely at Grimmauld Place, and she missed him already. He clutched the letter in his hand as he lay back down and tried to steady his breathing. He willed his body to stop trembling, and, eventually, he dozed.

He awoke the next day to find bright sunlight streaming in through his window. He knew by the heat and intensity of the light that it was much later than he was usually allowed to sleep when at Privet Drive. He fumbled for his glasses and was startled when someone handed them to him. He nearly jumped off the bed in alarm, grasping for his wand.

"Morning, you lazy git, take it easy," Bill said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "How do you feel?"

Harry sat up and blearily looked around. "Bill? What are you doing here?"

"I told you I’d be by today to work on these texts," he said, waving his arm over the stacks of books piled high on Harry’s desk. "Emmeline is working on them at Grimmauld Place, as well. We figure that between the two of us, we can make some headway. Dumbledore has initiated several new Order members; one of them is a historian for the Ministry. Her name is Jacqueline McClaggan, and she’s working with us, as well. I think her knowledge will prove invaluable in speeding up this search."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, wiping the remains of sleep from his eyes.

"Nearly noon," Bill replied. Looking up and speaking to the room in general, he said, "Dobby, he’s awake."

Harry was floored. Never in his life had he been allowed to sleep that late, not even when he’d had pneumonia as a kid. "Noon! How come Aunt Petunia didn’t wake me up?"

"Good morning, Harry Potter," Dobby shouted as he appeared in front of him and began laying things out on the desk. "Dobby was beginning to worry you’d sleep through another dose of your potions. Mister Wheezy, here, said to let you sleep, but Dobby was worried."

Dobby looked as if he were looking for something to punish himself with, so Harry grabbed his arm and tried to distract him. "The potions, Dobby. I think I should take them."

"Right," Dobby squealed, handing Harry the first in a series of phials. "What would Harry Potter be wanting for breakfast? Or would he prefer lunch?"

Harry was startled to realize that he was actually hungry. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt hunger. "Erm…how about a sandwich," he told Dobby.

Dobby beamed with pleasure at being asked to do something for Harry. "Yes, Mr. Harry Potter, sir. Right away." He handed Harry the last of the phials and Disapparated with a "pop."

Harry grimaced at the taste, but downed the potion, anyway. He was certain Snape purposely made all the potions more horrible-tasting than they needed to be. He caught Bill watching him with an intent gaze and couldn’t help the disgruntled feeling that rose within him. He hated the fact that the Order still thought he needed a minder.

"How are you feeling today? Did the lie-in help? Did you sleep all right?" Bill asked, firing the questions off in rapid succession.

"I’m fine," Harry snapped, somewhat more harshly than he intended. Bill just raised his eyebrows. "I’m sorry…it’s just…"

"It’s just that you’re not feeling fine, and you’re annoyed by it," Bill said, casually leaning back against the door.

"Yeah," Harry said, sighing, surprised by Bill’s intuition.

"Harry, you were just released from hospital yesterday, after some fairly hefty injuries. You’ve been through a lot; you’re allowed some time to heal. Now, let’s try this again; how was your night?"

Harry smiled wearily, knowing he wasn’t getting off the hook. "It was good; I think the trip home just wiped me out."

"The light was on when I got here; I was worried you had a rough night."

Harry flushed as he remembered waking up during the night; Ginny’s crumpled -up letter was still in the bed with him. He didn’t know what was wrong with him; he’d lived in a dark cupboard for years and never had a problem with the dark. Ever since he woke up in the hospital wing, he’d had an irrational desire to keep a light burning. It somehow kept the brutal memories of that cell at bay. That’s all he needed – the Daily Prophet to get wind of the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived was afraid of the dark. He couldn’t meet Bill’s eyes, and he stared intently at the cover on his bed. "Oh, I woke up and looked for Dobby. I must have fallen back to sleep before I put it out again."

To Harry’s eternal relief, Bill seemed to accept this without a problem. Harry quickly went for a shower, and his mouth nearly hit the floor when he returned to his room. He had to stop and go back out before coming back in to make certain his eyes weren’t playing a trick on him. While he’d showered, Bill had transformed his bedroom into a virtual palace. He’d used magic to expand the size and transfigured everything into a replica of the boys’ dormitory in Gryffindor tower. The red and gold colors gleamed in the sun, and all Dudley’s old junk was gone. The room looked outfitted for a king; Aunt Petunia was going to have kittens.

"Wh— What did you do?"

A wide smile broke out across Bill’s face. "It’s time your room reflected more of your own personality, Harry. It’ll make being stuck here not so bad. I didn’t know your favorite color, so I just used Gryffindor colors. I can change it if you’d prefer something else."

Harry barely heard him as he stared around the room in wonder. "No…I like red," he whispered in awe. He ran a hand along the rich texture of the comforter. Magic or no, Aunt Petunia would never let him keep things that were nicer than what Dudley had. He didn’t tell Bill that, though.

The following week proved to be one of the most difficult Harry had ever experienced on Privet Drive. Although his health was improving, it wasn’t happening nearly as quickly as he would prefer. Dobby hovered incessantly, filling Harry with both food and potions. He didn’t even ask where he was getting all the food, but suspected it was right from Hogwarts. Bill stopped by every day and scoured over the texts in the afternoon, when Harry would take a nap. His battle with the Dursleys had grown into an all-out war. It had started when Bill transfigured one of the bushes on the Dursleys’ front lawn, near the street, to transform into full, blazing fall colors. It would have been gorgeous in October and a source of pride for Aunt Petunia. In late June, however, with all the neighbors commenting and pointing it out in fascination, Aunt Petunia was beside herself.

She knew Bill was responsible, and the abnormality was driving her insane. Bill continued with his torment, causing weeds to sprout and take over her garden, which had always been Aunt Petunia’s masterpiece. Uncle Vernon’s grass would grow seemingly overnight and remained long and unkempt, no matter how many times Uncle Vernon forced Harry to mow it. The paint on the fence surrounding the house began to chip and flake; no amount of touch ups could repair the damage. The final straw for Uncle Vernon came in the form of mud spattering on his car, a car he’d always kept immaculate.

He told Harry to wash the mud off one evening when he returned from work, which Harry did. An hour later, the car was covered in even more mud. The more it was washed, the more mud appeared. All the Dursleys’ neighbors began staring at them strangely, wondering about the new, slovenly attitude of a family who had always maintained a neat and tidy appearance.

Uncle Vernon’s face had taken on a permanent puce tone, and he stayed away at work for longer and longer hours. Aunt Petunia had long since got over her intimidation and would rant at Bill nearly as long and hard as she would at Harry. Bill was amused and assured her with the straightest face imaginable that he couldn’t understand what was happening. He even asked her if she’d like him to use his…special talents…to fix any of the problems. Aunt Petunia stalked off in a rage, furious at the thought of letting any kind of magic be performed in her home.

At another time, Harry might have found it very amusing. There was certainly no love between him and his relatives, and they deserved any and all of the frustration Bill was handing out. He wasn’t hurting them, just annoying them, really. The truth of the situation, however, was that his ill health was getting to him, and he wished Bill would just leave the status quo. He didn’t have the strength, or the energy, to deal with the hysteria of his relatives. The Dursleys were all over him the moment Bill left the house, demanding that he put a stop to both Bill’s antics and his appearance.

Harry had begun doing extra chores and speaking as little as possible. He desperately tried to placate them and kept a silent count in his head of the days remaining until his birthday. He also had to cover all the extra work he was doing from Bill and Dobby, who wouldn’t take kindly to it. The strain of it all was wearing him down.

The logical part of his brain knew it was useless to expect any kind of approval or acceptance from the Dursleys, but no matter how he tried, he could never stop that small part of himself that still craved it. It had always been that way, since he was a small child bringing home artwork and good reports, hoping for any kind word or praise. Aunt Petunia always just threw whatever he’d brought away, or scolded him for showing off and outdoing Dudley. It made him angry and disgusted with himself that he couldn’t squash that last remnant of hope. He was worse than a dog that still wagged its tail for the master who repeatedly kicked him. The Dursleys had done their best to make him feel insignificant since the first day he was left here; why should he care what they thought of him?

He’d been getting intense flashes of feeling and waves of anger and frustration through his scar. Whatever was happening at Privet Drive, he was pleased to note that Voldemort was feeling as irritated as he was. He could only assume it meant Tom’s recovery wasn’t moving any quicker than his own. He’d feel guilty for snapping at Dobby, or Bill, yet he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t certain if the frustration he was feeling was entirely his own.

One thing he’d discovered was that his knees ached horribly right before it rained. The first time it happened he was alarmed and thought he’d done something to re-injure himself. It was only after the next time, when it rained again, that he realized the bones that had been broken must somehow detect the change in barometric pressure before a storm.

Harry fluctuated between being tense over Bill’s war with the Dursleys and relieved to have him there. Aside from Hedwig, Harry had never had anyone to talk to over the summer, and he found the change enjoyable. Bill got bored very quickly with Harry’s solitary confinement and asked irritably what the hell he did all day while he was here. Harry just shrugged. Bill went out and bought a football for the two of them to kick around in the yard. By midweek, Dudley had taken to watching them and occasionally even kicked the ball back if either missed.

Harry couldn’t play for extended periods of time – he just wasn’t strong enough yet – but he enjoyed the activity and having something pleasant to do. It made blocking out the rest of his thoughts easier. He’d become expert at not thinking about anything that had happened at the end of term. If he allowed his thoughts to drift to any of the time he’d spend at Malfoy Manor, his chest would constrict tightly and breathing became difficult. He found it better just not to think about it at all. He’d pushed everything, including Jonathan, as far from his mind as he could and left it there. He just wished he could keep the nightmares at bay, as well. His nights were brutal, and it would take him longer and longer upon each awakening to get the vivid flashbacks under control.

When Bill came by and tried to work on the texts, Harry found he couldn’t concentrate, and his mind would drift. Bill finally threw a pillow at him one day and told him to keep his leg steady and let him work. Harry was surprised to find he’d balled up one foot and was bouncing his leg up and down repeatedly. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it.

After the first week, Bill finally announced that both Ron and Ginny would be coming for a visit. Uncle Vernon nearly hit the roof when he learned two more wizards would be in the house. Harry explained that they were his friends from school, but Uncle Vernon was past reason. Harry had never had friends over before, and he saw no reason to start now. Aunt Petunia told Harry to stay outside, which suited him fine, although he had no idea what they would do with themselves. Somehow, Uncle Vernon took this as Aunt Petunia allowing it, and the two had a huge row. As far as Harry knew, they still weren’t speaking.

The thought of seeing Ron and Ginny again thrilled him and gave him something positive to focus his energy. He missed both of them, but it was Ginny he was longing to see. Things were always…better when she was with him. She’d written him every day since they got home, and her letters were well-creased and worn from all the times he’d read and re-read them. She was his lifeline in the tension-filled house at Privet Drive.

He’d only received one letter from Ron, and it was short and curt. Harry supposed Ron was in a bad mood after failing his Apparition test. Ginny wrote him about it and said Ron had never revised, so she didn’t know why he was surprised. Hermione sent him a letter before she left on her trip saying she’d passed (of course), and Harry supposed Ron’s ego was bruised. Hermione had probably given him an earful about it. Harry planned on helping Ron practice while he was here. He hoped he’d have some private time with Ginny, as well; there were other things he wanted to practice with her…

*******

The midmorning sun blazed in the sky, sending waves of scorching heat down on the already burned-out lawns of Privet Drive. Row after row of identical houses lined the street with nary a soul in sight. All the residents of this part of suburbia were inside, seeking cool shade from the summer’s heat wave.

One solitary figure sat staring from the steps of number four. His pale face was tense and drawn as he peered anxiously up the silent street. He wiped the sweat from his brow and returned to his to silent vigil. His body was rigid, appearing ready for flight at a moment’s notice. He glanced at his watch repeatedly, as if willing time to move forward.

It had been one week since Harry’s return to Privet Drive, one long, draining, incredibly stressful week, and now he was sitting on the steps awaiting the arrival of two of his best friends. Things were definitely looking up for him.

A slow smile crossed his face just thinking about it, and he again glanced at the street. Ron and Ginny were planning to Floo to Mrs. Figg’s house, then Bill would accompany them here before they made their plans for the day. Harry had been sitting on the steps in the blazing heat waiting for them for nearly an hour, despite the fact that they weren’t even due yet. Squinting into the distance, he grinned as he made out three figures with distinctive red heads plodding towards him.

Chapter Two: Reunion

Ginny Weasley stepped gracefully out of the fireplace into Arabella Figg’s eclectic parlor and began dusting herself off. Her brother Bill entered the room and grinned widely, wiping a smudge of soot off her nose.

"Ginny," he exclaimed. "You’re a little early."

Ginny leaned over and gave him a quick hug. She’d seen more of Bill since he’d been staying in Little Whinging than she had in all the years he’d lived in Egypt. Lately, he was constantly popping into Grimmauld Place to confer with Emmeline or, more often, Jacqueline, on the research they were doing.

Her mother was delighted by his frequent appearances, and she thought he kept coming by in appreciation of her cooking. While Ginny was always happy to see him, as well, and selfishly enjoyed getting the frequent updates on how Harry was faring, she suspected that Bill’s visits had less to do with either her family or food, and more to do with Jacqueline McClaggan’s presence at Headquarters.

Bill had confided to her that he and Fleur had broken up the previous Christmas. Fleur could be rather vain, and he had a problem with all the male attention she constantly attracted, he’d admitted sheepishly. Ginny smothered her grin; Bill, Charlie, and Ron had all inherited their mother’s possessive nature. The twins were more easy-going, like their father, and she fell somewhere in between. She coldly dismissed Percy from her musings altogether.

The fireplace flared again, and Ron stepped out, shaking the ash from his hair with his hand. He was letting his hair grow out, and it curled in wisps around his ears. Ginny thought it made him look a bit like a ruffian, but she kept that opinion to herself. Ron was not in the mood for criticism of any sort lately and frequently snapped at anyone who spoke to him. She was curious to see how he reacted to Harry when they saw him.

Ginny had been corresponding with Harry daily, sending her letters through Bill. Errol was getting too old and unreliable to be trusted with post to Harry, and Ron had become rather stingy with Pig. She’d written Harry about Ron’s failing to get his license to Apparate, but she hadn’t mentioned a lot about his attitude or explosive temper. She wanted to get Harry’s opinion on that first-hand.

She knew Ron was still adjusting to everything that had happened to him during his captivity, including the idea that he’d killed someone. Her parents had both commented on his sullen mood and insomnia. Ron prowled the house each night into the early hours of the morning before finally going to bed. He’d then sleep most of the day away. Her mum was concerned about him and reverted to her cure for everything: feeding him at every turn. Ron wasn’t complaining about that; he was always happy to eat. She’d also noticed her dad making quiet time each evening to sit and play chess with Ron, and she knew from the dull murmur of voices that they were talking about heavy matters.

"Hey, Ron," Bill said. "Harry is going to be so glad to see you two, he was nearly giddy when I told him you were coming."

"How is he?" Ginny asked, smiling as she imagined Harry’s eagerness.

"He’s improving…still a bit jumpy, though, so don’t make any sudden moves."

"Has he been sleeping?"

"He says he does, but he’s still got those bags under his eyes, and he drops off in the afternoon. He’s been itching to test his magic, so I figure that has to be a good sign," Bill replied. "I don’t know how he’s stood being stuck here every summer without going off the deep end. There’s very little to do, and those relatives of his treat him like dirt. I’d heard about them, of course, but I was still unprepared for it. It gives me a whole new appreciation for Mum; the slightest sniffle, and she’d have us in bed dosed up on Pepper-Up Potion. Harry may be one of the most famous wizards in the world, but the level of neglect he’s accustomed to – seems to expect, even – makes my skin burn. Sometimes, I feel guilty for what we’ve always had and I took for granted."

Ginny and Ron were quiet, silently agreeing with Bill’s assessment. They may have never had a lot of money, but they’d always had unconditional love and support from their parents. She might shout at them a lot, but Molly Weasley loved her children, and they all knew it. Almost all of them, anyway. Even the twins knew that despite her harping, their mum was very proud of them.

"I went out and bought a football, and we’ve been kicking it around in the yard. It’s not Quidditch, but it passes the time, and I like how the tracks of our footprints on the lawn annoy his aunt," Bill said, trying to break the somberness in the room.

"Is Harry healthy enough to be running around like that?" Ginny asked in concern.

"You’d better not let him hear you ask that," Bill said, laughing. "He does NOT like to be coddled, and he’d give you an earful for suggesting it."

Ginny laughed, knowing Bill was right. "That’s why I’m asking you and not him."

Bill grinned. "I think it helps, actually, gives him something to do. What’s going on back at Headquarters?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Like they’d tell us."

Ginny had to agree with him; her mother was still adamant about keeping them away from anything to do with the Order. "Something is happening at the Ministry, but I’m not certain what. Whatever it is, it has something to do with Percy. I can tell by Mum’s reaction."

"Git," spat Ron. "I can’t believe he wanted Harry to throw in his support for Fudge. I don’t know how such an arrogant berk is actually related to us."

Bill’s expression was thoughtful, though somewhat guarded. "Have Mum and Dad told you anything about Percy?"

"What is there to tell?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I suppose this is no secret; it’s public knowledge. Just…don’t let on to Mum you know, it only upsets her. Percy is engaged."

"Engaged." Ron sounded shocked. "Who’d want to marry him?"

Bill sighed. "She’s a well connected Ministry official by the name of Pricilla…get this…Fudge."

Both Ron and Ginny’s jaws dropped. Ginny recovered first. "You mean…he’s actually going to marry Fudge’s daughter?"

"Yep. They had a big Ministry gala just last night to announce the engagement. Looks like old Cornelius is grasping at any way to steer public opinion onto something more positive. The sad part is, it seems to be working. The Daily Prophet looks like a gossip column with all the write-ups on the upcoming nuptials."

"But…Mum and Dad were at Grimmauld Place last night. Why didn’t they attend the gala?" Ginny asked.

"They weren’t invited," Bill replied, his lips narrowing into a thin line. "In fact, Dad was pointedly told to stay away."

"What?" Both Ron and Ginny screeched indignantly.

"They’re the parents of the groom. How could Percy do this to them? Poor Mum, her heart must be broken. She’s dreamed of a wedding for one of us for so long now," Ginny cried.

"Yeah, well…Percy’s got pretty good at breaking Mum’s heart lately," Ron said, nearly growling.

"Mum took it really hard; she’s always held on to the hope he’d come around," Bill said. "She’s been obsessing over it since that day at King’s Cross, but now…with this…she’s resigning herself to the idea that she’s lost him. Pricilla Fudge is a piece of work – real snooty, with an attitude. I’m certain she looks down her pointy nose at Mum and Dad. As far as I’m concerned, she and Percy deserve each other."

Ginny sighed and rubbed her temples. She didn’t want to think about Percy right now; she wanted to see Harry. She missed him and was anxious to see for herself how he was doing. She had to admit that she was very curious about the Dursleys, as well. Her mother had threatened her that she wouldn’t be allowed to return if she didn’t hold her temper. She’d solemnly given her word, but she’d also crossed her fingers behind her back. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her chances of seeing Harry, but she wouldn’t allow them to bully him either.

She’d been disappointed when she learned Ron would be coming, too. She felt guilty about it, but wanted some alone time with Harry. She was hoping Bill would help her out with that. Being the eldest and the youngest siblings, they’d always had a special relationship and understood each other well.

"What did the twins have to do with last night?" Ron asked, surprising Ginny. She didn’t know anything about the twins being involved, and she’d been spending a lot of time with them at their shop. Grimmauld Place was dull and boring, especially with Ron being so moody. She’d been going into Diagon Alley with Fred and George; business was booming, and they’d started a mail order catalog. Ginny filled the incoming orders from a little office in the back.

Bill grinned again. "Well, Dad was told to stay away, but Fred and George managed to get themselves dates who were invited. I haven’t heard anything yet, but I’m certain they made their presence known."

An evil grin spread across Ron’s face. "I hope they did us proud."

Ginny’s smirk was just as devious. "Would you expect anything less?"

"I’ll be certain and fill you in once I’ve heard. If it’s anything like what I’m expecting, you’ll probably hear enough about it on your own," Bill said.

"I don’t know about that," Ron said, his mood turning sour. "With the way Mum’s been acting, we’re lucky if we can get anyone to tell us what the weather will be like ahead of time."

Bill chuckled. "Go easy on her, Ron; she’s under a lot of stress. She was devastated when you and Harry went missing. She’d always been so certain of the safety of Hogwarts. You two being snatched right out of the castle really shook her."

Ron grimaced, but remained unsympathetic. "I’m seventeen and legal, not a little kid."

"But you’re still in school, and, as far as she’s concerned, she’d rather keep you, Ginny, and Harry as far from all of this as possible," Bill said reasonably.

"Not likely with Harry," Ginny muttered under her breath, and Bill’s eyes flew open wide.

"You do know then," he said, his voice no more than a whisper.

Ginny stiffened as she felt Ron jerk beside her. "Know what?"

Bill eyed them both for a moment; the tension in the room was heavy, and none of them wanted to move or breathe first. Ginny met Ron’s eyes, and he gave a slight shake of his head. It was nearly imperceptible, but Bill caught it, anyway.

"He told you about the prophecy," Bill said finally. It wasn’t a question, more a foregone conclusion.

Ginny swallowed, feeling her throat close with apprehension.

"What do you know about it?" Ron asked, taking a step towards his brother.

"Dumbledore told the inner circle of the Order about it after we got you and Harry out of Malfoy Manor. Now that You-Know-Who knows the full contents, he thought it was better if we all knew what was at stake," Bill said, sighing. "After he gets his own strength back, he’s going to come right at Harry."

"Does Harry know that you all know?" Ginny asked, not wanting to think about Harry being a target yet again.

"I haven’t told him, and he hasn’t brought it up with me."

Ron scowled. "Great, Dumbledore is pulling Harry’s strings again without his having a say. Didn’t he see how well that went over last time?"

"No wonder Mum has been so strung out," Ginny said.

"Yeah. You should have seen her the night Dumbledore told us about the prophecy. Harry was still unconscious in the hospital wing at the time, and Mum ripped Dumbledore a new one. I’ve never seen anyone have a go at him like that. We were all stunned speechless; even Dad couldn’t calm her down. McGonagall finally gave her a Calming Draught."

"Harry told us right after Christmas," Ron said.

"Yeah, but he’s known about it since last summer; he just dealt with it all alone until then," Ginny said, gritting her teeth. She still got upset when she thought about it, it was simply too much to bear alone.

"How does he cope with it all?" Bill asked, the awe clear in his voice.

"He doesn’t always," Ron scoffed.

"Enough," Ginny said. "Harry’s waiting for us, and he’s been alone too much already. Let’s go to Privet Drive."

As they walked down the road, Ginny was amazed by the sameness of all the houses. House after house, without the slightest discrepancy from the one beside it. Even their gardens appeared the same. Everything about Little Whinging was so un-Harry-like; she couldn’t even imagine him growing up here.

She’d dressed lightly in shorts and a cotton top, but, the heat was still oppressive, and she wished they could go swimming. She hoped Bill had remembered to cast a Cooling Charm on Harry’s room.

"That’s number four over there," Bill said, pointing towards one of the endless houses.

She squinted and, in the distance, could make out a familiar form sitting on the steps, watching their approach. Ginny’s heart gave a gigantic leap; she’d know that messy hair anywhere.

She watched as Harry heaved himself up, shielding his eyes from the sun and squinting against the glare. He sprinted towards the fence, a wide grin crossing his features as he waited for them to meet him. She chuckled, watching him, as he bounced on the balls of his feet like a little kid, waving frantically. Her heart gave a little lurch; he must be lonely.

"I didn’t think you were ever going to get here," he scolded as he reached through the gate and pulled her into a fierce embrace.

She laughed and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Harry, we’re not even late. Did you miss me, then?"

"More than you’ll ever know," he whispered in her ear, the warmth of his breath on her neck sending a shiver down her spine.

"Hey, hey! Watch the mushy stuff with my sister; my eyes can’t take it," Bill said, grinning.

A light blush stained Harry’s cheeks as he turned to Ron. The two friends shook hands and gave each other a brief, one-armed hug that involved more slaps on the back than anything else. Their affection for each other was obvious, and it touched Ginny.

"All right, Ron?" Harry asked.

"All right," Ron answered.

Ginny observed Harry quietly as he greeted her brothers. Bill told her that he was getting better, but he looked no different to her. He was pale and still too thin, despite the fact that Dobby was ensuring plenty of food was made available to him. Bill had mentioned that Harry didn’t have much of an appetite, and Ginny knew he usually stopped eating when something was bothering him. He gave her a tired smile as he caught her eye, but he somehow looked lost and very alone.

She took his hand securely in hers as Bill led them towards the door. As soon as they started walking, Ginny noticed how nervous Harry became.

"Listen," he said. "I thought we’d head over to the park. I can bring the football, and we can kick it around."

"Aww, Harry; it’s too bloody hot, even with Cooling Charms. Let’s just go in and have a drink, all right?" Ron said.

"Er…well, we have to pass Mrs. Figg’s house to get to the park. We could stop there and get drinks. I’m certain she wouldn’t mind," Harry mumbled.

"We just left there, Harry. Besides, we’re here. What are you on about?"

Harry looked panicked; he kept glancing apprehensively at the door and cringed as Bill opened it. Ginny knew he didn’t want them to go inside, but her curiosity was piqued about what he was hiding. Besides, she really wanted to see where he lived; she’d heard so much about it, but she’d never actually been here. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and entered the house.

The first, overwhelming impression Ginny had was of cleanliness. Everything was spotless, unnaturally so…even the walls seemed to shine. It made her pull into herself slightly, not wanting to touch anything. The opening to her left led to a den, covered in picture after picture of a rotund, blonde-haired boy. Pictures of this kid – Ginny assumed it was Harry’s cousin Dudley – lined the walls, mantle, and every spare spot in the room. There wasn’t so much as a snapshot of Harry in sight. Ginny felt both annoyed at the indifference, and yet fascinated by the pictures that didn’t move at all.

Ron, too, was looking around the room in disgust at all the pictures of Dudley – baby pictures, birthday pictures, school pictures. Ginny could make out Harry’s aunt and uncle in a few of them, but only if they were with Dudley. It was as if Harry didn’t exist, nor have any place here at all. Her eyes were drawn to the corridor and the small door that led to the cupboard under the stairs. The locks and bolts made her blood boil. Ron had told her how these people had locked Harry up in there when he was just a little boy. He was innocent and defenseless, and they were entrusted with his care. He’d been completely alone, and they were his only kin…and they’d hurt him. Slowly, she walked over towards the cupboard and let her hand run along the door. She’d never felt such complete hate for another human being in her life, not even Tom Riddle. It made her want to hit something.

Ron noticed what she was doing and asked bluntly, "So, this is the infamous cupboard, huh, Harry?"

Harry jumped as if scalded. He turned and looked blankly at the cupboard, as if just registering it was there. "Yeah," he replied, peering over Ginny’s shoulder towards the kitchen, "that’s my cupboard. Why don’t we go upstairs to my room? Wait until you see what Bill did to it. I’ll get Dobby to bring us some drinks." Harry used his body to block them from the cupboard and tried to lead them up the stairs.

"What do you mean, ‘your cupboard’?" Bill asked.

Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip as Ron answered. "Harry’s relatives made him live in there for the first ten years he was here."

"Excuse me?" Bill’s voice was quiet and deadly calm.

"Never mind," Harry said, again trying to move them towards the stairs. "Come on, the room is really changed, you—"

Bill interrupted him mid-sentence by pushing past him and opening the door to the cupboard; it clattered back against the wall from the force. Ginny peered into a small, very dark space that contained nothing more than cleaning supplies. It was – like the rest of the house – eerily clean, but Ginny noticed several spiders scurrying along the wall. She imagined that if the walls could talk, they’d have many stories of abuse and neglect to tell, and her heart ached a little more for Harry and all he’d been through.

They were all startled by a loud ‘Harumff’ from behind them. Harry spun quickly, and Ginny noticed him grabbing for his wand. His Aunt Petunia stood in the hallway, glaring at him, her eyes narrowed in distaste.

"What is going on here?" she hissed. "I told you I would not have you bringing a group of your kind into this house. What is the meaning of this?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. We were just heading upstairs for a drink, then we’ll be leaving." Harry answered, his eyes pleading with the others to hold their silence. Bill was having none of it.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dursley. Allow me to introduce my younger brother, Ron, and my sister, Ginny. They’ve come to spend the day with Harry. I noticed your garden is looking very interesting today." He was referring to the fall mums that had suddenly bloomed in Aunt Petunia’s summer garden.

"Don’t think I don’t know it’s you who is behind it. It won’t work, either. My family will not be going anywhere with the likes of you," she spat. "Get out of my broom cupboard."

"Harry was just showing us his old room," Ron replied, his lip rising in a sneer.

"Don’t you take that tone with me, young man. He was dumped here on us with neither word nor warning. We had no room for him and had to make due with what we have, and he was lucky to get it."

"You have four bedrooms, Mrs. Dursley," Ginny said quietly, barely controlling her fury at this woman’s callousness.

"And they were being used at the time," Aunt Petunia snapped, her eyes appraising Ginny coldly. Ginny suspected she was remembering the passionate goodbye kiss she’d given Harry at King’s Cross. "We took him in out of the goodness of our hearts, and this is how he repays us? His birthday can’t come soon enough so I can be done with the lot of you. And there is to be no funny business under my roof, young lady."

Aunt Petunia began advancing on Ginny as she said this last bit, and Harry moved to stand in front of her. "That’s enough, Aunt Petunia." His voice was hard and flinty as he stared at his aunt with emotionless eyes. Petunia’s eyebrows had raised up into her hairline at his apparent disrespect.

Bill sought to diffuse the situation. "We’ll be heading out shortly, Mrs. Dursley. For now, I want to show Ron and Ginny the changes I’ve made to Harry’s room. Have you seen them? Would you care to join us for the tour?" He smiled engagingly, and Ginny had to stifle a giggle by how he was baiting her.

Aunt Petunia was livid; she glared at Bill with unabashed hatred as she turned on her heel and stalked back into the kitchen. Harry flinched as the door slammed, and Ginny watched him tense his shoulders as he clenched his eyes shut. There was more going on here than she was picking up on, but she was going to need some private time with him to figure it out.

Bill led them upstairs and into Harry’s room. She’d never seen it before, and Ron only had peered through the window before their second year, so neither of them could fully appreciate the difference. It was obvious how delighted Bill was, however. He went on and on, explaining how he’d recreated the Gryffindor boys’ dorm and pointing out the mahogany finish on the bed. Ginny watched Harry closely during Bill’s whole speech. His eyes were slightly glazed, and he obviously wasn’t paying attention; he seemed a million miles away.

She knew he was embarrassed by his aunt’s behavior, and Ron’s revelation about the cupboard, but there was more happening here. It suddenly occurred to her as she thought of her mother’s fussing over Ron, and her father taking time to play chess with him, that Harry was acting in much the same way as Ron, yet there was no one there to take those extra steps. In fact, Harry’s behavior his entire fifth year could be classified as a desperate scream for help that all the adults in his life – adults sworn to protect him – had missed. They were all so focused on the big picture that no one had taken the time to notice Harry slipping through the cracks. Not until Sirius had died, anyway.

Ginny wasn’t about to let that happen to him again, but she needed some private time with him. She was planning on visiting again tomorrow, without Ron, so it would have to wait until then. In the meantime, she’d just try and offer some support and get him to have some fun.

"Dobby, are you there?" Bill spoke to the empty room.

Dobby appeared instantaneously. "Hello, Mr. Wheezy, sir, what can I do to Harry’s repulsives today?" He beamed at Bill with a nearly maniacal glint in his large eyes.

Bill laughed, as Ginny questioned, "His repulsives?"

"He means my relatives," Harry said, sighing. Dobby had coined the new phrase accidentally, but when Bill howled in glee over it, it had stuck. Dobby and Bill had become fast friends, each trying to outdo the other in coming up with ways to torment the Dursleys. Dobby was remarkably adept at sneaking around unnoticed.

Dobby had just caught sight of Ron and Ginny and squealed in delight. "It’s Harry Potter’s Wheezy and his Miss Wheezy, too. Dobby is welcoming them here. Harry Potter is very glad to have you visit. He is missing his Miss Wheezy very much, brings your letters to bed and talks to you when he is sleeping."

Harry’s face colored a brilliant shade of scarlet, as he rushed to move Dobby away from Ginny. "Dobby, we’re all really hot and thirsty. Could you get us something cold to drink?"

"Of course, Mr. Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will be right back," he said before disappearing with a "pop".

Both Ron and Bill wore amused smirks on their faces, and Harry nearly groaned, seeming to dread the teasing he was about to endure, when Ginny broke the silence. "So, you’ve been talking about me in your sleep, Potter? And here I’ve been worrying you’d be having nightmares. I hope I at least gave you something worthwhile to talk about." She smiled at him and lowered her eyes suggestively.

Harry nearly fell off the bed in shock, and the grins dropped from both of her brothers’ faces.

"That’s enough about that; I don’t want to hear this. Any of it. Ever," Ron said, obviously flustered.

Bill was staring at Ginny in shock; she knew he sometimes forgot she was no longer a child, and she enjoyed reminding him. She smirked triumphantly and winked at Harry’s stunned expression. She had known exactly what the result of that comment would be, and she gave herself silent credit for derailing them.

Dobby returned with the refreshments and, after finishing their drinks, they decided to take the football over to the playpark for a while. Dobby had packed them a picnic lunch with a Cooling Charm to take along with them.

When they arrived, Ginny immediately went for the swings. The equipment had been repaired since the previous summer, and, with the summer holiday just starting, Dudley’s gang hadn’t got around to damaging it all again yet.

"Come on, Harry, give me a push," she said, smiling. He grinned in return and walked up behind her, pulling her back and pushing the swing forward. As Bill and Ron began looking around, she leaned back and quietly asked, "How are you really doing, Harry?"

"Not so good," he whispered.

Despite his answer, she was pleased that he was still being honest with her. "I know, luv. What’s going on?"

"Long story; I’ll fill you in later."

"Okay," she replied, not happy with the answer. She knew it would be easier to talk to him when they had some privacy, but she was becoming alarmed. He pushed her on the swing for a while, laughing as he did and falling easily back into their familiar camaraderie. It was good to be with him again. After a while, he grew quiet as he continued to push her. Looking at him closely, she realized how pale he’d become, and the force of his pushes grew weaker and weaker. She jumped off the swing and took his hand. "Come on, let’s sit in the shade under those trees for a bit."

They sat down, and Ginny began digging through the picnic basket. At the sound of the food being opened, Ron and Bill joined them. As they began eating their lunch, Harry suddenly called out, "There’s plenty of food, Dud. You can sit if you want." His voice sounded so stiff and tentative, as if he expected a rebuke. She looked over to see his cousin standing near the fence, observing them quietly.

Dudley didn’t move to approach them, but he didn’t turn away, either; he just stood there, shifting from foot to foot. Finally, he began to trudge closer, his eyes darting back and forth in a slight panic.

Ron had looked up, surprised by the interruption, as well as Harry’s invitation. She knew Ron was not fond of Harry’s cousin, understandably so, but she hoped he’d told his tongue until she could figure out what was happening. She wasn’t in luck.

"What do you want?" asked Ron, rising to his feet.

"It’s all right, Ron," Harry said.

"Hello, Dudley," Bill spoke. "What can we do for you?"

"N-nothing," Dudley stammered. "I was just walking by and saw you all sitting over here. I’d wondered who Mum had been ranting about."

Bill smiled, a devilish glint in his eye. "That would be us. Let me introduce my brother, Ron, and my sister, Ginny. Ron, Ginny, this is Harry’s cousin, Dudley." He glared hard at Ron, trying to remind him with his eyes that Dudley had no memory of Christmas.

Dudley nodded towards the two, then looked over at Harry. "She told you to keep them outside."

"Well, we wanted to go in," Ron said, defending Harry instantly. "We weren’t doing anything to her."

Dudley sighed. "I don’t know why you keep pushing them so they come down on you. You could make it much easier on yourself if you stopped trying to set them off all the time." He was conversing with Harry as if the rest of them weren’t even there.

"What do you mean by that?" Ginny asked him.

He looked at her for a long time, as if trying to figure her out, and she didn’t think he was going to answer until he turned to glare at Bill. "They know it’s you who’s been making all that funny stuff happen at the house, but they take it out on him."

"Dudley," Harry said, his shoulders tensing.

Bill’s face had lost its look of pride at Dudley’s last comment. "How do you mean ‘take it out on him’?

"He doesn’t mean anything," Harry interrupted. "I thought we were going to kick the ball around. We’ll see you later, Dudley."

"Why are you protecting them?" Dudley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Answer my question, please. Exactly what is going on at your house, Dudley?" Bill asked. His tone was polite, but Ginny knew from years of living with a house full of brothers that he was trying to hold back his anger.

"Just that as soon as you leave, they’re all over him for all the mess in the yard. They make him do extra chores to clean it all up every night until he nearly passes out."

"That’s enough, Dudley," Harry said. "I do not pass out."

"I’ve seen you barely able to drag yourself up the stairs," Dudley replied, and Ginny couldn’t help but notice he was enjoying Harry’s discomfort.

"They what?" Bill demanded; he whirled on Harry. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

"It’s not that bad," Harry replied, glaring at an un-mollified Dudley. "What’s it to you, anyway; why are you telling them all this?"

"I’m trying to figure you out, and I can’t. It doesn’t make any sense. For the first time in your life, you’ve got something to use over them, and instead of using it, you just keep trying to calm them down. I don’t get it."

"Harry, the whole point of this was to try and convince your relatives to move to Headquarters, not to make things any more difficult for you. We can’t know what’s going on if you don’t speak up." Bill was exasperated. Ginny knew he was used to dealing with younger brothers who exploded when they were pushed around or got angry. Harry was so very different from the other Weasley boys, but, then again, his circumstances were so completely different, as well.

Harry hung his head and refused to meet any of their eyes. "You’ll never get them to leave Privet Drive."

Ginny’s heart ached for him, knowing how embarrassed he was that they all knew how his ‘family’ treated him. She wound an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, trying to offer comfort. "But, Bill," she said, "if it’s not working, you’ll stop it, right? There’s no reason to make it any more difficult on Harry."

"No, we’ll leave the yard alone. We’re just going to have to come up with something else."

Harry sighed and leaned into Ginny’s touch. She could see he was growing tired but wanted more time with him before he rested. He’d had enough of this conversation, and Ginny remembered her goal to see to it that he had some fun. "Where is that football? Let me try it out."

All of them, including Dudley after some peer pressure, kicked the ball around the playpark for a while. Bill cast a Cooling Charm over them as they played, and Dudley seemed quite taken by the relief from the heat.

Harry’s cousin was big and obviously unused to running; it was easy to get the ball around him. After he relaxed, he seemed to enjoy himself, as well. She caught him watching her on several occasions, but whenever she’d catch his eye, he’d turn away. Only Ron seemed unwilling to drop his guard. "How come you’re all of a sudden okay with us?" he asked Dudley after he’d kicked the ball away from the larger boy.

Dudley shrugged, looking at Bill. "You’ve been hanging around for the past week, and you don’t seem so bad. I dunno, none of the stuff you’ve done has been all that serious. Messing with Mum’s garden – and especially Dad’s car – is kind of funny.

Harry grinned. "The mud on the car is pretty funny."

"How many times did he make you wash that thing the first night?" Dudley asked.

"Dunno, lost count. I was trying so hard not to laugh and give it away."

"Give what away? He knew that magic was involved. Even if not, he would have blamed you for it, anyway."

Harry shrugged.

They played for a while more, but when Ginny noticed Harry leaning against a tree for support, she knew he’d had enough. They walked him back to Privet Drive, but remained outside the house so as not to further upset his aunt.

"That was kind of fun," Ron said. "It’s not Quidditch, but it was okay. Don’t ever tell Dean Thomas I said that."

Harry and Ginny both grinned, knowing Dean’s obsession with football and the other wizard boys’ determination on insisting it paled in comparison to Quidditch.

"What’s Quidditch?" Dudley asked.

Ron looked at him as if he asked the color of the sun. "Only the best sport ever. No exceptions."

"It’s a wizard sport," Harry said. "It’s played on broomsticks in the air. It really is the best."

"Harry’s been on our House team since his first year. He was the youngest Seeker in a century," Ron said, praising his friend.

"Ron’s our team captain; he plays Keeper, which is a kind of goalie. Ginny is a Chaser; she tries to score on the other team’s Keeper." Harry said.

Dudley looked wary, but interested, nonetheless. "What does a Seeker do?"

"A Seeker looks for another ball, called the Golden Snitch. It’s very fast and hard to see. Usually, whoever catches the Snitch wins the game," Ginny said.

"Are you any good?" Dudley asked.

"Never lost a game," Ron answered for him. "Well, not without outside interference, anyway." They all glanced warily at Harry, not wanting to bring up any reminder of the Dementors. Harry kept his gaze firmly ahead, but Ginny had felt his body tense.

"Okay, we really need to get moving. Dudley, would you make certain Harry gets upstairs okay?" Bill asked.

"Yeah," he responded.

"I can get upstairs on my own, thanks," Harry said testily.

"Do it, anyway," Bill said to Dudley.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist and told her brothers to turn around and face the other direction. They did so with grins on their faces, and Dudley followed suit. She proceeded to give him a long kiss goodbye. "I'll be back tomorrow, and we’ll get to have some time alone. I want to hear all about what’s been going on around here," she whispered.

Harry didn’t seem to be paying attention at all; he was far more interested in keeping her mind on the kissing, not the talking. She pulled away first, overhearing Ron threatening Dudley,

"If it’s taken you fifteen years to realize he’s okay, well, you’re a bloody idiot. But if you’re just setting him up for something, I’m warning you…you’d better not hurt him, or it’s me you’re going to have to answer to. And since I’m of age, I don’t have to worry about any restrictions on the use of magic. I’m free to do as I see fit, and I won’t mess around with mud on cars or weeds in the garden."

She really loved her brother sometimes and felt remorseful for all the negative things she’d been thinking of him recently. They all waved their goodbyes and set off towards Mrs. Figg’s house. Ginny was already anticipating the next day.

Chapter Three: Broken Wings

Did you know?

- that those who spend their time protecting others

are the ones that really need someone to protect them?

- Author Unknown

Harry and Dudley watched the Weasleys until they were out of sight before turning to enter the house. The camaraderie of the afternoon faded fast, and a tense, awkward silence fell between them. They reverted to their old familiar roles and regarded each other with distrust. Harry felt that he didn’t need any help getting to his room, and he wasn’t entirely certain Dudley would really help him if he needed it, anyway. More likely, he’d either let him fall or push him down the stairs himself.

It was very strange having spent the afternoon with Dudley and the Weasleys. His two worlds had never willingly done anything together before this. It was the best time he and Dudley had ever spent together. It made Harry wonder, if Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hadn’t been so opposed to magic, if he and Dudley could have grown up as friends. He shook his head, silently berating himself, Dumbledore’s words filling his mind, ‘best not to dwell on dreams.’ He wasn’t certain what to make of Dudley’s new attitude, but he could see how Bill’s tricks on his parents would amuse Dudley, who had spent a lifetime tormenting others.

Harry had reached the top of the stairs when a wave of dizziness overtook him. He blanched while groping for the railing and would have fallen if Dudley hadn’t grabbed him from behind. He stiffened in his cousin’s hold, but grudgingly accepted that he did need the assistance. He gritted his teeth as he allowed Dudley to steer him to his room.

Dudley helped him to his bed, where he sank gratefully into the soft fluffiness of the feather mattress. Bill really had done a nice job with his room; Aunt Petunia be damned. "Thanks," he muttered to his cousin.

After laying Harry down, Dudley didn’t rush from the room like he usually did. He stood still in the center, looking around and inspecting all the changes. He stuck out his hand and touched the rich material of the comforter on Harry’s bed. "Where did the other stuff go?" he finally asked.

Harry shrugged. "This is all the same stuff; it’s just been transfigured into something else."

Dudley knitted his brow, seeming to consider this carefully; it looked like it was a lot of work for him. Harry was surprised he hadn’t already bolted from the room. "That girl – Ginny…" Dudley finally said.

Harry tensed his shoulders. "What about her?"

"She was the one kissing you at King’s Cross station. Is she your girlfriend?"

"Yeah." Harry couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he was having this conversation with Dudley; he was braced, waiting for the insults.

"And she’s your best mate’s sister?"

Harry knew there was a point in there somewhere, but, as yet, couldn’t make the connection. He was oddly reminded of trying to hold a conversation with Crabbe or Goyle. "Yeah," he answered. "Ron’s been my friend since first year; I met both him and Ginny on the platform before we caught the train. Ginny’s in the year behind us."

Dudley seemed to dismiss the added information and kept on with his line of questioning. "So, how did you end up dating her?"

How had he ended up dating Ginny? He didn’t think he really wanted to talk to Dudley long enough to explain that. "I dunno; it was a long time in coming, I suppose. There was a dance last year at school, and I asked her; we’ve been together ever since," he said simply. He felt guilty about talking about Ginny in such simple terms; she meant so much more to him than that. She was his friend, his confidant, his lifeline, really. He never would have survived the past year without her; she gave him a reason to expect more from his own life. How was he supposed to relay that to anyone else, never mind to Dudley?

Dudley pulled out the chair to Harry’s desk and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning in closer to Harry, who had propped his pillows against the headboard of his bed. "Was Ron mad?" Dudley questioned, holding his breath, waiting for the answer.

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. "Ron? Nah, I think he’d been pushing for it in his own way for a while. I was just too thick to pick up on it. Ginny’s whole family has been very good to me."

The air seemed to deflate out of Dudley, and his head sunk nearly to his knees.

"What’s going on, Dudley? How come you’re asking me all this?" Harry asked, not able to let go of his suspicion.

Dudley sighed and locked his beady eyes on Harry. "There’s this girl," he muttered. "She’s…different."

Harry smiled. This was rich – his bully of a cousin was coming to him with his romantic troubles. No one had ever mistaken Harry as having a way with the ladies. Still, Dudley was obviously having a problem, and he wasn’t trying to blame Harry for it, which was a nice change. "Okay, so…does she like you, too, then?" he asked.

Dudley scowled, lifting his shoulders back up and narrowing his eyes menacingly. "I never said I liked her."

"Dud, come on, you wouldn’t be sitting here talking about her with me if you didn’t like her."

Dudley deflated again. "Yeah," he sighed. "I think she likes me, too. That’s the problem."

Harry was confused. "Why?"

Dudley narrowed his eyes again, looking Harry up and down appraisingly. "Why should I tell you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Dudley, you’re the one in my room, bringing it up. Who is she?" he asked, trying to distract his obviously agitated cousin.

Dudley pursed his lips. "Her name is Veronica…Polkiss," he sighed.

An image of a little girl with pigtails and a prominent overbite arose in Harry’s mind. "Piers’s sister?" he asked, remembering the trip he’d taken to the zoo with Dudley and Piers before his first year at Hogwarts.

"Right in one," Dudley groaned. "Only, he hasn’t been pushing for us at all. In fact, he told me point blank not to think about it."

Harry covered a snicker. He remembered Piers as a scrawny kid resembling a rat who always followed Dudley around, doing his bidding. He wondered how Piers had changed.

"Is she worth it?" Harry asked his cousin.

"What?"

"Is she worth perhaps getting into a row with your mate over? If you make Veronica happy and do nothing to hurt her, Piers should come around."

Dudley thought about it for a minute, but he didn’t answer. He got up, leaving the chair in the middle of the room. "Night, Harry."

Harry watched him leave, feeling slightly disappointed that Dudley hadn’t answered. It was nearly dinnertime, but he figured Dobby would wake him to take his potions, and he could ask him for something to eat. With that thought, Harry snuggled down under the covers and easily fell asleep, unprepared for his dream-plagued night.

Harry found himself in a darkened corridor. It was cold, and, although there was no light, he knew he wasn’t alone. There was something hidden in the dark with him. His heart began pounding in his chest, and he started to move quickly down the corridor. His chest was tight, and he could hear a faint rustling behind him. He picked up speed and was soon sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him. He could hear the deep, rattling breath now. Dementors! There were Dementors here. He felt the chill and forced his legs to go faster, the panic beginning to overtake him. Suddenly, Hermione was with him, but her eyes were vacant as she walked beside him. He was running as fast as he could and breathing heavily, yet she continued her easy pace and stayed with him. She never once acknowledged his presence.

"Hermione," he yelled, but no trace of recognition flashed in her eyes. Her expression was so…empty, so unlike Hermione. The Dementor was close now.

"Crucio," Harry heard the curse but didn’t see who had aimed it at him. The flicker of stark, white mask appeared in the corner. He ducked and rolled on the ground, stopping only when his body collided painfully with something in his path.

"Ron," he yelled, realizing it was his friend who lay spread-eagled on the floor. Ron had the same, vacant expression as Hermione, who was now nowhere to be found. "Ron," he yelled again, shaking his friend’s shoulders. He could hear the rattling breath of the Dementor despite his own ragged breathing.

"Crucio," he heard again, and he spun around towards the voice. There was no one there. He had to get out, had to get away. The walls were closing in, and he was trapped. Fighting against the helplessness, he turned back to Ron, but his friend was gone. He had to get out of here.

The sound of Jonathan’s voice filled the darkness as Harry tried to run faster than his legs would carry him. "Think of your loved ones, Harry, quickly, before you kill them all, and there is no one left."

He slammed his hands over his ears…he didn’t want to hear this…he wouldn’t listen, and it would all go away. He could see someone in the distance, and he stopped short, noticing the flickering, red eyes. He didn’t want to go that way, but suddenly he couldn’t stop his body from moving in that direction. Hands appeared from the wall, pushing him, grabbing him and forcing him forward, towards the red eyes.

"Nooo," Harry moaned, fighting desperately to try and get away. He was pushed past Ginny, who was sitting in a chair, her eyes staring vacantly ahead.

"Ginny," he cried, "help me."

She didn’t move, never even acknowledged he was there as the hands continued to force him down the corridor. He was panicked now, bile rising in his throat.

"No, stop," he pleaded. "Please stop. Ginny. Ginny!"

"Harry, wake up. Come on, Harry, wake up now. It’s just a dream, luv."

Harry opened his eyes in a panic and pulled away from whomever was shaking him. He scooted away and drew his knees up to huddle in the corner. His heart beat a furious rhythm in his chest, and he was panting, trying to refill his lungs as his body trembled uncontrollably. Panic seemed to overwhelm him as his mind flashed on a cold, closed-in space that he equated with complete helplessness. No! Don’t think about that The light, where is the light? I need the light.

"Take it easy, Harry. I’m right here; you’re not alone."

Harry clenched his eyes shut tight, fighting back the memories the dream inspired. The room was bright, the light was on, and he was okay. He felt gentle fingertips caressing his head, and he instantly recognized who was with him. At last, looking up into Ginny’s concerned brown eyes, he leaned his head towards her, and she cautiously moved onto the bed next to him. She continued whispering soothing words as she settled herself next to him.

"Ginny," he finally choked out. "What are you doing here?"

She removed her hand from his hair and leaned over to look in his eyes. "I told you yesterday that I’d be back in the morning; I just got an early start. Are you all right? That sounded like a bad one."

Harry’s body was still trembling, but it was becoming more manageable. He lifted her hand and placed it back in his hair as he leaned towards her. "I’m fine," he mumbled, breathing deeply and settling his head on her lap, enjoying the warmth from her body.

Ginny lay with him quietly for several moments, continuing to stroke her fingers through his hair. In their few months together, she’d offered him more human contact than he’d ever experienced in his entire life prior to being with her. Now that he had it, he never wanted her to stop and found himself longing for her gentle caresses.

"You have the most beautiful eyelashes," Ginny whispered, causing his eyes to fling open wide.

"What?" he asked.

"I love your eyelashes; they’re so long and beautiful," she replied.

Harry felt nettled by this statement, but wasn’t certain why – his eyelashes were most certainly not beautiful. How in the world could eyelashes be beautiful, anyway? "Where is Bill?" he asked, not even realizing she’d successfully sidetracked him from dwelling on his dream.

"He wasn’t up yet when I got to Mrs. Figg’s house. I left a message for him to meet us here."

"So…we’re alone here?" Harry asked, holding his breath hopefully. All day yesterday he’d wanted nothing more than to get to talk to her alone, but having her alone here in his bedroom was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Why, Mr. Potter," she said, grinning as he sat up to look in her face. "Why do I think your thoughts have become rather impure?"

Harry blinked in mock innocence. "I can’t imagine," he replied before pressing his lips to hers and softly running his tongue along her bottom lip.

Ginny wound her arms around his neck and pulled him tightly against her. She eagerly responded to his kisses and met his tongue with her own. His hands ran along the soft skin of her arms, and the fact that she was wearing only shorts and a T-shirt overrode all other thoughts in his mind. His kisses became more urgent and intense as he tugged her down to lie alongside him. Her ardor matched his own, and her hands caressed his bare chest. The heat from her touch startled him; he hadn’t even registered the fact that he was only wearing his pajama bottoms. The idea seemed almost indecent, yet excited him at the same time.

He wrapped his hands in her silky hair, letting the long tendrils pull through his fingertips. It was so beautiful and sinfully soft; there was something amazingly sensual about the feel of it on his bare skin. He wanted to think about her and only her, and not the nightmarish images threatening to overtake his consciousness.

Harry continued letting his hands explore and felt butterflies in his stomach as he reached the curve of her hip. He knew he should stop and slow things down, but he really didn’t want to slow down. Talking about whatever it was he’d wanted to talk to her about no longer seemed very important. He began to kiss her more urgently, wanting her as close to him as she could be.

"Harry." It was Ginny who pulled back first and planted the palms of her hand firmly on his chest. She was panting heavily, and her lips were swollen with passion. "We need to slow this down."

Harry took several deep breaths and struggled to get his own body and raging hormones back under control. Ginny was looking at him with a worried expression.

"Honestly, Harry, I’m glad you’re so happy to see me, but I can tell you’re not all right. I think you might be using me to block out some things you don’t want to think about." The color was high on Ginny’s cheeks as she jerkily adjusted her shirt.

Her words were like an ice cold shower and caused his ire to rise sharply. "Well, excuse me for getting excited by waking up to find you in my bed."

"Don’t get snarky with me, Harry. The only reason I was in your bed was that I walked in to find you screaming your lungs out."

Harry’s anger was deflated by her words. He’d been screaming again; he’d have to remember to ask Bill to reinforce the Silencing Charm on his room before it wore off, and he woke the Dursleys.

"Harry," Ginny said softly, "I think you need to talk about what’s been going on around here."

"What is it with girls and talking?" he asked grumpily, settling his head back on her lap.

She smiled and ignored his pouting. "No one said we couldn’t both talk a bit and kiss a bit at the same time."

He tried to stop the grin but failed, his agitation dissipating as she resumed running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Has your uncle been treating you all right?" she asked gently.

Although her query made him uncomfortable, her presence was soothing, and he found he didn’t mind talking to her about this as much as he did with other people. "He hasn’t been around much. I think he’s trying to avoid the whole situation."

"I didn’t like seeing that cupboard yesterday. It made it all so much more real for me. I hate that you’ve had to live like this for so long," she said in a very small voice, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "Did they always keep those locks on the door?"

Harry thought about it for a minute, trying to remember. "I think so. The first time I remember getting locked in there happened one night during a thunderstorm. I was four or five, and for some reason the thunder scared me, stupid, really. I ran up the stairs and lay down on the floor in their room, but I fell asleep. When Uncle Vernon got up for work in the morning, he tripped over me and fell on the floor. He was furious. He threw me in the cupboard and didn’t let me out for a few days. I don’t know why I always ran to their room, I was never allowed in. It was only thunder; I was just being stupid."

"A lot of little kids are afraid of the thunder, Harry," she said in a very strained voice.

He was stunned. "They are? But why? It can’t hurt you."

Ginny wore a pained expression. "What do you mean, you always ran to their room?"

He shrugged, unsure why he was telling her all this. She seemed so eager to hear it, and if he told her about the past, she wasn’t asking any questions about how he was feeling in the present. "Nightmares aren’t a new thing with me; I’ve always been prone to them. When I was little, I had them a lot, usually involving a lot of green light, but I didn’t know what that meant at the time. After I had them, I used to try and sneak in their room; I don’t know why. Usually, they just sent me right back. After that thunderstorm, Uncle Vernon put the locks on the door, and they used them at night."

"So, what happened when you had a nightmare after that?"

He shrugged again. "They went away eventually…until I went to Hogwarts," he said, remembering terrified tears and banging on the cupboard door, begging to be let out. He never was.

"I’m sorry, Harry."

He glanced sharply at her face, noting the trace of pity there and wanting none of it. His back stiffened as he said, "It was a long time ago."

Ginny must have felt the response of his body, because she dropped the line of questioning. "Bill is coming over later to fix your aunt’s garden; that should get her off your back for a while."

"Yeah. What do you think he’s planning next?" he asked, feeling rather apprehensive.

"I’m going to keep an eye on it, Harry, but you need to do your part, as well. If things are bad here, or worse than usual, anyway, you need to let us know. Bill would have stopped long ago if he knew how hard he was making it on you."

Harry had become distracted by the lovely curve of her face as she scolded him. She wasn’t shouting, so it wasn’t difficult to tune out her words and focus on the prettiness of her face. She really was beautiful, and he wondered for the thousandth time what she saw in him.

As if noticing he wasn’t paying attention, Ginny grabbed his chin and forced him to look directly at her. "Exactly where are you, Mr. Potter?"

He reached out and lifted up a stray lock of her hair. "I was just thinking how pretty you looked."

Ginny seemed taken aback by that statement. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.

He grinned and pulled her into another heated kiss. She didn’t pull back this time, but, instead, darted her own tongue out to force his lips apart. He gave in to the intensity yet again, and let his hand roam over the light cotton of her T-shirt. He heard her gasp as he reached the soft swell of her breast, but she didn’t tell him to stop, and he felt a thrill within his chest at the forbidden exploration.

A male voice from downstairs caused them to spring apart instantly. "Bill," Ginny hissed as Harry stared helplessly at his rather obvious state of arousal.

Damn, she has too many brothers!

"I’ll be in the shower," he mumbled, sprinting from the room and leaving Ginny to straighten the very rumpled bedcovers.

"Coward," he heard her chuckle to his retreating back.

When he returned to his room after his shower, Ginny was still there, sitting at the desk and flipping through one of the ancient books of Old Magic. She’d tidied up for him and was swinging her leg impatiently.

"What took you so long?" she demanded, not looking up from the book. Despite the fact her hair was covering her face, he could swear she was smirking.

Harry turned to put his things away, a slight blush staining his cheeks. "Er…sorry, just…needed help waking up." He leaned over to look at what she was reading and tried to change the subject. "Where is Bill?"

"He’s out in the yard fixing it up. I said I’d bring you down when you were ready. Dobby left your breakfast and some potions for you to take."

Harry gulped the potions and grabbed some toast before they headed outside. Even though the heat at the early hour was already stifling, he shared a very pleasant day with Ginny. Bill had to go back to Grimmauld Place, so he left them on their own. They spent some time at the park and even saw Dudley briefly. Harry told her about his talk with Dudley the night before, and she offered to go on a double date with Dudley and Veronica. Harry had to shake his head at that, wondering if he’d woken up to the right life.

They wandered around Little Whinging, and Harry pointed out where he went to primary school and some of the local attractions. Ginny seemed to enjoy learning about his pre-Hogwarts life. He took any and all opportunities to hold her hand and steal kisses as they walked. He’d sent Hedwig to Gringotts and got some of his money exchanged for pounds, so he was able to take Ginny out for lunch. They went to a local hamburger shop, and, as they were sitting here, Harry realized it was their first "official" date. He knew there were Order members around somewhere keeping an eye on him, but it was the first time he’d got to take Ginny out somewhere alone and treat her. It seemed very important to him, somehow. All in all, it was the most enjoyable time he’d ever spent on Privet Drive, and he was sorry to see it end. He walked her back to Mrs. Figg’s so she could use the Floo to return to the Burrow, and she promised she’d be back as soon as she could. Ron would be coming in a few days.

He kissed her goodbye with a heavy heart and trudged back to the Dursleys’. The gloom that had been weighing down his heart returned as he climbed the stairs and shut his door. Despite his pleasure with the new décor of his room, being shut in anywhere lately left him feeling trapped and claustrophobic. He opened the window wide and stuck his head out, breathing in the warm, evening air. He rubbed his hand through his hair in agitation, making it stick out even more, and tried to do some homework.

The next several days were long and boring for Harry. True to his word, Bill cleaned up the Dursleys’ house and yard properly and cast no more spells. His presence, however, was near constant, and the guards from the Order were plainly visible. Order members converged on the porch, roamed the street in front of the house, and sat in the back yard – all without Invisibility cloaks. Aunt Petunia was beside herself, yet neither she nor Uncle Vernon said a word to Harry. Since that first day of Bill ending his yard war, if the Dursleys so much as raised their voices towards Harry, there would be a knock on the door or a face in the window. The Order left no wiggle room within their demand that Harry be left alone; they would tolerate no mistreatment.

Harry got to see many faces he knew, including the twins, and some others he didn’t recognize. Fred and George were his favorite ‘minders,’ and they always entertained him. They were on their best behavior, although he could see them plotting with their eyes whenever one of the Dursleys showed their faces.

Harry was happy that they were keeping the Dursleys at bay, but, still, the tension was unbearable. Even Dudley had stopped trying to chat and pulled away. Harry’s nightmares were increasing in both frequency and intensity, and he rarely slept more than a few hours straight. As he went to bed at night, he no longer even attempted to put the light out. Bill hadn’t said anything about it since the first time, but he was certain he’d noticed. There were Order members on guard at night, as well, and Harry was certain that they must have seen the light burning continually. He needed the window wide open, as well; otherwise, he felt too enclosed. Aunt Petunia set her mouth in a grim line, but said nothing. She always hated leaving the windows open at night.

One night, Harry had dreamed about Jonathan, probably because he’d been spending so much time on the ancient books, hoping they’d find a spell soon to end this one way or another. He really didn’t want to live this way anymore. Thinking about Jonathan always brought him back to his time at Malfoy Manor, something on which he definitely didn’t want his thoughts to dwell. He tried to stop the thoughts altogether, but found it increasingly difficult to do. Little things – a phrase, a picture of a sword, Brussels sprouts – brought his mind right to Jonathan. Harry had been exposed to Avada Kedavra before, of course, but never while being so aware of what was happening. With Cedric, it was so fast and so sudden, the pain in his head so intense, he’d never really had time to think about it. With Jonathan, as soon as Voldemort had uttered those words, he’d seen the brilliant green light and felt his head burst with agony – he had known what was coming. He had known it and had just watched it happen. That thought nagged at him. He’d just watched it happen…

Harry was startled out of his morose thoughts by a hard shaking of his shoulder. "Harry, snap out of it, mate."

Dazed, he looked up into the concerned eyes of his first friend. "Ron," he said in confusion. "Where did you come from?"

"Harry, Dad told you all about that last term," Ron said, sniggering.

Harry cuffed Ron lightly upside the head. "Prat," he grumbled. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m here to spend the day with you. So, what are we going to do?"

Harry shrugged, trying to think of something Ron would enjoy. "I dunno; there isn’t much to do around here."

"Well, what did you and Ginny do the other day when she visited?" Ron asked, and Harry felt his face burn brightly. He turned away from Ron and tried to think fast.

"Urgh," Ron said. "That’s my sister you’re thinking about when your face turns that color, Potter. Watch it. I don’t want to know what you two did."

"I know," Harry exclaimed suddenly. "Want to watch the telly?"

"The what?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Come on," Harry said as he led Ron downstairs, excited about getting to show Ron something new for a change. "The Dursleys don’t usually let me watch it, but they haven’t even spoken to me since the last time you were here, so I don’t think they’ll say anything." Even if they did, Harry was feeling slightly rebellious and wanted to push his luck.

Sitting in the den, he flipped on one of Dursleys’ many televisions and handed Ron the remote, showing him how it worked.

"This is brilliant," Ron said, his mouth dropping open in wonder at the images flashing before him.

Harry grinned;,pleased that he had found something Ron enjoyed. "Dudley has a bunch of video games you’d probably like, too, but I don’t know where he is. He’s been avoiding me again, so don’t count on it."

Ron narrowed his eyes and studied his friend. "Everything all right here, mate?"

"The usual. They’re a bit stressed by all the ‘freaks in plain sight’," Harry said, doing a fair impression of Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice.

They watched the telly for a while, both of them spending longer than necessary ogling the women in the ads where Ron tended to pause. Harry had no idea how many ads of women running in bathing suits there were on the telly. The Dursleys rarely let him watch any; no wonder Dudley spent so much time staring at the telly. Harry was amused to note that Ron got extremely hungry every time there was an ad for food during a program they watched. They kept Dobby busy getting snacks before Harry brought up the subject of Ron’s failed Apparation test. Ron scowled, but remained silent.

"We could work on it together, if you’d like," Harry offered. "I’ve still got a month before I can officially sit for mine."

"Whatever," Ron said, shrugging.

"Apparating takes a lot of concentration, and it’s hard to block everything else out sometimes," Harry said quietly, his heart beating very fast. They were straying into territory Harry didn’t want to talk about, either, but he did want to help Ron if he could. Ron had certainly been there for him enough over the years.

"Who are you now, Hermione?" Ron snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking lower into his chair.

Harry swallowed, squelching his angry retort. "Hermione means well, she just sometimes doesn’t know when to stop pushing."

Ron grunted noncommittally. Harry sighed as he stared at Ron for a moment. There was an edge to him that was new and hard to pinpoint exactly. There was a definite attitude coming from him, one that would certainly set Aunt Petunia’s tongue to clucking. As he studied his best friend, Harry thought Ron’s choice in best friends was interesting; he and Hermione were very different, but they both got on well with Ron.

Hermione’s analytical mind connected with Ron’s strategic side. If there was a problem Ron was interested in and wanted to figure out, like a chess game or a Quiddtich match, he could be as great a thinker as Hermione. She was just more polished and took everything to an extra level. Hermione was passionate about a lot of things, especially school and learning, where Ron kept his select few close to his heart.

Harry connected with Ron more on his emotional side, with quick tempers and a love of adventure. Harry marveled again how lucky he was that Ron had stumbled into his car on the Hogwarts Express on that day, so long ago now.

"She’s really miffed at me for failing the test," Ron said, sighing.

"She’ll help you if you ask her. She’s worried about you, mate."

"I know. I wish she’d stop, though. I’m okay. I just don’t want to keep talking about it."

Harry knew that feeling. "Yeah…it’s hard enough thinking about it, never mind talking about it, too."

"Exactly! Everyone keeps saying there was nothing else I could do, and I know that, but…"

"But your insides are still all twisted up, no matter what your head knows is true, and talking about it only makes you want to throw up," Harry finished.

Ron sighed. "How are you doing, Harry?"

The words ‘I’m fine’ were on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but as he looked into Ron’s troubled gaze, he changed his mind. "About the same as you. I can’t wait to get out of here."

"We’re working on that. Mum’s hounding Dumbledore daily."

"How is she?" Ginny had told him about Percy’s engagement.

"She shouts a lot, but she’s hanging in there. She ranted at the twins for two solid hours when she found out about the scene they made at Percy’s engagement party. You could tell she was pleased with them, though. Did Ginny tell you about it?"

"She said they got themselves dates who were invited to the party."

"Yeah, and during Fudge’s speech about welcoming Percy to the family and the importance of sticking together in these trying times, they charmed all the balloons in the room to flash pictures of all the Weasleys. Told Percy that since he thought family was so important, they figured he might like some reminders of his own family before they Disapparated out of there. Bill said the whole Ministry was talking about it next day. I’d give a hundred Galleons to have seen the look on Percy’s face. Mum was sad, but she was proud of the twins, anyway. I just wish she’d stop hovering."

"She’s worried about you."

"She’s worried about both of us, I wish she’d stop."

Harry nodded, but remained silent. In truth, he thought it was kind of nice she included him in her worries, but would never say that out loud.

He and Ron spent the day watching and making fun of the things on the telly. When they got tired of that, they took the football to the park again. Ron even consented to practice Apparating. He only managed a few very short distances, but it was something, nonetheless, and he seemed pleased. It was too hot to stay outside for long, but Ron cast the Cooling Charms again while they ate the lunch Dobby had packed for them. Being seventeen certainly had its advantages. Harry only had to wait until the end of the month, and then his life would yet again change forever. He’d finally be free of the Dursleys…that alone would be worth it.

Chapter Four: Money Changes Everything

Three days after Ron’s visit, Harry was awoken very early by Hedwig, who was pecking at his arm demanding attention. He’d had a rough night and wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. Hedwig refused to allow it and hopped up onto his pillow in order to nip at his ear.

"All right," he snapped, sitting up and reaching for his glasses. "What is so all-sodding important that you had to wake me up from the best stretch of sleep I had all night?"

Seemingly unaffected by his outburst, she leaned over and held out her leg for him to remove the attached letter. It was from Remus.

Harry,

Tonks and I will be arriving at half nine to escort you into London. We’re looking forward to seeing you. Tonks says to tell you to get ready for a makeover, whatever that means.

Moony

Harry grinned, looking down at his oversized pajama bottoms. Any kind of a makeover would be an improvement over Dudley’s huge hand-me-downs. He was anxious to see Remus and make certain he was okay. Ginny had told him that he was looking better, but Harry wanted to see for himself.

Getting out of bed and flicking off the lamp on his desk, he trudged towards the shower. The hot water helped to wake him up and lifted his spirits about the day. He’d never been shopping in London before, aside from Diagon Alley, and he was really looking forward to it. As he glanced in the mirror, he realized he needed a shave and wished he could use magic. It would make everything so much easier. Maybe when they were out today he could pick up a Muggle razor. How hard could it be to use? Ron had shown him the proper charm to use at school to get a close shave, and he cursed the Restriction for the Use of Underage Magic yet again. Not that it would do him any good even if he were allowed to use magic, he thought grumpily. Madam Pomfrey had him on a strict restriction until he went back to school.

He dressed in the same pair of jeans he’d worn the day before, but pulled a clean T-shirt out of the wardrobe. The jeans were tattered, but they fit him better than the others he owned, and he fully intended to come home wearing a new pair in his own size.

"Dobby," he called, when he returned to his room.

The little house-elf appeared a moment later. "Good morning, Harry Potter, sir. How is the great and noble Harry Potter feeling today?"

Even though he’d lived with Dobby for almost two weeks now, he was still uncomfortable with the gushing. "Morning, Dobby. I’m good. How are you?"

Tears sprang to Dobby’s eyes as he dropped to his knees and wrapped his long, skinny arms around Harry’s legs. "Harry Potter asks how Dobby is? Dobby is so happy to be taking care of Harry Potter, sir. This-"

"All right, Dobby, enough already," Harry interrupted, unwrapping Dobby from his legs. "I’m going to be out today, so could you give me my lunch potions to go?"

"Of course Dobby would be happy to do this for Harry Potter." He Disapparated with a "pop" and reappeared a moment later with several phials. "Harry Potter should take this one along for lunch; the others are for now. Dobby has also brought Harry Potter some breakfast."

Harry looked over to see a plate piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon, as well as a sinful-looking danish that he reached over and grabbed off the plate.

When he finished his breakfast, he hurried down the stairs to wait in the den. Uncle Vernon had left already, and Aunt Petunia eyed him warily. She began dusting around him, and he knew she was bursting to know what was happening. She wore a scowl on her face, and her eyes were narrowed with suspicion.

Harry felt generous and decided to fill her in on the plan for the day. Before he could speak, however, the doorbell rang, and Aunt Petunia whipped the door open.

She froze in place, and Harry watched as a wide variety of emotions played across her face. He remembered last Christmas and how she had acknowledged knowing Remus from her past. Harry held his breath, waiting to see if there would be a repeat, desperately hoping for some kind of sign. Other than then that one rant to Hagrid in Harry’s first year, his aunt had never mentioned her sister. He’d give anything if she’d just say something…anything…

But Aunt Petunia said nothing. The recognition in her eyes hardened into dislike, and she turned on her heel and left the room without a word. Harry let his shoulders sag in resignation. Why had he expected anything else? She would never give him even a glimmer into his mother’s past. He’d be leaving them soon, never to return. He didn’t know if Dumbledore would try and make him return here next year, if he survived, but he would never come back. He honestly didn’t believe they’d let him, anyway. They’d never wanted him, and he’d come to accept that.

"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks, who sported bubble-gum-pink hair again. Harry was certain she did it just to annoy his aunt. She was dressed in a white sundress with large red polka dots that clashed violently with her hair. Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing her looking so much like…well, like a girl.

"Hi, Tonks. Hi, Moony," he said, leading them both into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Some tea, maybe?" He hoped they’d decline the offer; he wanted to get out of here before Aunt Petunia came back to inspect what they were doing.

"Just a glass of water would be great," Tonks replied as she sat down at the table and looked around the kitchen with a frown.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Moony asked. He looked tired, but healthy, and there even seemed to be a hint of color to his face.

"I’m okay," Harry replied, filling a glass for Tonks.

"You’re looking kind of peaked," Tonks said, when she finally stopped looking disapprovingly at the cleanliness of the kitchen. "Of course, after everything you went through at Malfoy Manor, I suppose just appearing peaked is a good thing."

Harry’s mind flashed to a cold, dark room, intense pain, and utter helplessness. His vision blurred as his chest constricted painfully. White masks everywhere… His breath came in short, painful gasps as he desperately tried to fill his lungs. He just couldn’t get enough air. He leaned over to grip the table and dropped the glass he was holding to the floor. The shattering sound of glass brought him back to the present, and he forcibly shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the memories.

"Harry," Remus said with alarm.

"I’m all right," he whispered, bending down to scoop up the glass. He was wound tight, waiting for Aunt Petunia to come storming back to the kitchen, demanding to know what he’d broken. He felt strong hands on his shoulders pulling him up and guiding him to a chair at the table. Tonks finished clearing the glass, while Remus pressed a soft cloth to his hands. Distractedly, he noticed the blood covering his hands, but felt as if he were looking at a picture of someone else. He saw the concerned glance that passed between Remus and Tonks and forced himself to get a grip on his emotions.

"Harry," Remus said, "I think we need to talk about-"

"I’m fine," Harry interrupted, quickly getting up and leaving no room for argument. He kept the cloth around his bleeding cuts, but stuffed his hands inside his pockets. "So, we’re going shopping today? I need to stop at Gringotts and get some money."

Remus’s shoulders sagged, but he conceded to letting Harry off, for now. "We will be stopping at Gringotts, but you need to remain under your Invisibility cloak while we’re in Diagon Alley. We can’t let you be seen, Harry. It’s too risky. Besides, this trip is my treat. Sirius left me all this money, and I don’t know what to do with it. I think he’d approve of getting you some decent clothing. He’d see it as a way to get back at your relatives. Call it an early birthday present, from both of us."

Harry smiled at the gesture, pleased that Remus seemed so happy to do it.

Tonks put her hand to his chin and lifted his face, running her hand along his stubble. "You need a shave," she said bluntly.

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning sheepishly. "I was hoping we could get a razor while we’re out."

"Ugh," Tonks said. "Nasty things, those Muggle razors. I’ll fix you up." She took out her wand and performed a quick charm. Harry felt the smoothness on his cheeks instantly.

"Thanks."

"So, what do you have in mind, Harry? What would you like to buy for yourself?"

He thought about it for a minute, never having the opportunity before to indulge himself. "I want some jeans that fit," he said at last.

Remus covered a smile with his hand while looking at Tonks’s dumbfounded face.

"Jeans. That’s it? Jeans. Harry, I don’t think you understand the concept of a shopping spree at all. You just leave it up to me. We’ll bring Remus along to carry the bags."

"So that’s what I’ve been reduced to, is it? A servant of your whims?" Remus asked in a mock-injured tone.

She smiled at him sweetly. "You haven’t complained so far."

Remus’s face colored slightly, as he ducked his head and cleared his throat. "All right, then. First stop will be Diagon Alley."

Harry smiled at Tonks teasing Remus, although it was quite disconcerting to think of the two of them together like that. "How are we getting there?"

"We’ve got a Portkey to the Leaky Cauldron," Tonks replied. "Once in London, we’re on foot, or we can use the Underground."

Harry ran upstairs to grab his Invisibility cloak and followed his minders out to the car.

Diagon Alley was full and bustling on this hot July morning. Hidden beneath his cloak, Harry craned his neck to take in all the sights and sounds. He felt a huge amount of freedom, being here without being seen. He could look around all he wanted without any of the usual stares or pointing. He waited with Tonks as Remus went into Gringotts to have some of his money converted to pounds. He agreed to get Harry some money of his own to keep in his pocket. Harry reckoned Remus knew all too well what it was like not to have spending money of your own readily available. Tonks chatted away, and Harry had to grin, imagining how she must look, talking to herself. Of course, there were so many oddities in Diagon Alley, perhaps no one even noticed.

When Remus returned, he tried to steer them right back towards the Leaky Cauldron, but Eeylops Owl Emporium caught Harry’s eye and inspiration struck.

"Remus, could we make just one stop?" he pleaded, keeping his voice very low.

Remus rolled his eyes, but Harry knew he’d already won. "It would make everything so much easier if Ginny had her own owl. It would just take a minute."

"Aww, come on, Remus." Tonks joined the pleading. "You won’t be the hindrance to young love now, will you, old man?"

"Old man," Remus spluttered. "Just who are you calling an old man, Miss Nymphadora?"

Harry colored slightly as he watched the two of them flirt outrageously with one another. He liked seeing Remus so carefree and…happy. It took him a minute to name what the emotion was that he felt coming from Remus, but that was it. He was happy. Harry was very grateful to Tonks for giving that to him. Remus hadn’t mentioned Wormtail or anything about what he’d done to him to Harry, but Harry was happy to leave it that way. As long as Remus seemed to have recovered, there was nothing more he could ask.

"What kind of owl do you want to get her, Harry?" Tonks asked.

"Dunno. I’ll know it when I see it," he replied.

Inside, he looked at cage after cage of owls. Owls of all kinds, color, and sizes. His gaze kept coming back to an ordinary barn owl with burnished brown feathers that looked almost red in the sunlight. She was a small owl, but seemed to have a fiery personality and wouldn’t let any of the other owls share her perch. She reminded Harry of Ginny fighting with her brothers and holding her own.

He directed Tonks to the right one, and she purchased the owl for him. Harry remained beneath his cloak until they reached the Leaky Cauldron.

"I’ll just write a quick note to Ginny and send the owl off with it, okay?"

Remus nodded and went to get some drinks while Harry sat down and wrote Ginny.

Ginny,

Meet _____ (you insert the name). She should make corresponding easier. Hope Hedwig likes her. I do.

Love, Harry

He felt very strange signing the letter that way, still, but it also pleased him that he could. He sent the owl off to Grimmauld Place and belatedly hoped Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t mind. Too late now. After they finished their butterbeers, Tonks led them out of the pub and off to Harrods, which she claimed was the best place to start. As they began walking towards the entrance to the Underground, Harry’s mind was caught up in fantasies of Ginny’s face when the owl arrived. He thought she’d be pleased and wondered what she’d name her new pet. She’d named Pig for Ron, so maybe he’d turn the tables and name this one on Ginny. Harry played with several scenarios in his head, enjoying the sibling relationship his friends shared. He missed being with all the Weasleys and was looking forward to joining them.

He hadn’t really noticed as they began descending the long steps leading down to the train station. It was the click-click of heels on the pavement that startled him, forcing his mind to another place hidden well below ground. It got darker as they descended, until the artificial light of the Muggle Underground lit up the station. Harry’s breathing became labored, and he clutched the railing to keep himself from fleeing back up the stairs. Taking deep breaths, he tried to control the panic and ease the tight constriction within his chest. Don’t be stupid; it’s just the Underground. You’ve ridden on it before; stop acting like a baby.

"All right, Harry?" Tonks asked as they stood waiting for a train, shoulder to shoulder with all the Muggles doing the same thing. Harry knew his face had lost its color, and she could probably detect his body trembling, since they were all pressed so close together.

"Yeah, I’m fine. How far are we going?"

Tonks looked at a map on the wall detailing all the stops and all the train lines on the Muggle Underground. "We’ve got four stops to get to Harrods. We’ll walk around from there and go in any other store that catches your fancy."

Harry nodded absently, shutting his eyes and staying focused on his breathing. Four stops. I can do four stops.

A loud rumbling filled the station as the train pulled in, setting Harry’s teeth on edge. They loaded onto the train and managed to get seats together. He watched all the Muggles as they crammed onto the train.

"What are you thinking about, Harry?" Remus’s gentle voice asked.

Harry swallowed and replied, "Wondering if Ginny got her owl yet."

Remus looked at him closely, and Harry was forced to look away. Somehow, he always felt that Remus could see right through him and know why he was lying.

When the doors shut and the train began to move, Harry felt the fear rising within him. He couldn’t stand being enclosed like this…helpless….hopeless…

He forced his mind away from the thoughts of Malfoy Manor that it seemed intent upon revisiting. He made it through the first stop by concentrating on his breathing. Before they reached the second one, however, flashes of white masks inflicting intense pain was all he could see. They were surrounding him, he couldn’t get away, there was nowhere to go. His body curled as he tried to shield himself from the curses raining down upon him; there were too many….it hurt, everything hurt.

"Harry, you’re all right. Take a deep breath." It was Remus’ voice that broke through the haze. He felt Remus’s arm around his shoulders and opened his eyes to look into the concerned face of his father’s old friend.

"I need to get out of here," he pleaded, leaning on Remus for support. He was trembling so badly that he didn’t think he could walk on his own. I’m pathetic.

A woman who had been sitting on his other side leaned over and lay a gentle hand on his arm, giving him a slight pat. He looked up, startled, into a kindly-looking face with dull blue eyes. She wore a nurse’s uniform and had her grayish hair pulled back in a bun.

"It’ll be all right, honey. Sometimes, closed-in spaces do this to me, too," she said, misinterpreting his distress. She looked over at Remus. "I think your son has a bit of claustrophobia. You might want to take him to a counselor who could help him deal with it."

Remus nodded politely and didn’t correct her that Harry wasn’t his son. She patted Harry’s arm once again. He knew she was just being kind, but Harry was irritated, nonetheless. He was still extremely sensitive to being called unbalanced, after all the trouble in fifth year, and her suggestion that he needed a counselor panicked him. Certainly, Remus wouldn’t make him talk to a stranger about things. No, Harry couldn’t do that.

As the train came to a stop, they got off and climbed the stairs back into the hot summer sunshine. Remus and Tonks kept Harry between them and nearly dragged him up the stairs. Tonks guided them over to a bench where they sat while Harry took great gulps of air, trying to stall for time. How am I going to explain this?

Remus took the matter out of his hands, seemingly already knowing what was happening. "How long have you been having flashbacks, Harry? Has it been happening at the Dursleys’, as well?" His tone was gentle, not accusing, and it bolstered Harry somewhat.

He was quiet for a moment, unsure how to answer. The words were right there behind his throat, and he desperately wanted to let them come pouring out. He couldn’t, though; something was blocking them. Neither Remus nor Tonks had said a thing, waiting for an answer. He had to say something. "I don’t like to be closed in," he finally whispered, staring intently at the torn trainers he was wearing.

Tonks put her hand on his back and began rubbing gently.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. You’ve been through an awful lot. Most people who’ve been through any kind of captivity have some trauma to work through afterwards. I know I’ve been working through some issues over what went on at Malfoy Manor, myself," Remus said gently.

Harry looked up at him quickly, his chest constricting at the mention of Malfoy Manor. Remus had never spoken to him about his dual with Wormtail.

"It’s true. I had nightmares about it for a while, but they’re spacing out some now. Thankfully, I had Tonks here to talk about them. Talking does help, Harry, even if it seems pointless. When you bottle all your feelings up, they eventually boil over. They have to get out somehow." Remus spoke in that same mild tone he always used, but Harry could see a flicker of something behind his eyes.

"I don’t think that man I fought was my old friend. The Peter I knew died a long time ago. I don’t even know who he became, or maybe it was always there and we just never saw it. I don’t know. That’s how I’m dealing with it, anyway, by looking at them as separate men. It’s working for the most part, although it still never stops the nightmares completely."

Harry continued to stare at his trainers while Tonks kept up the gentle, soothing motion on his back. I can do this. "Sometimes…when I wake up…I’m not certain where I am, or if it’s still happening." His mind flashed repeatedly on waking up, cowering in a fetal position, envisioning horrors that were no longer there.

"Oh, Harry," Tonks said, sighing and squeezing his shoulder.

"Have you told Bill that you’ve been having nightmares?" Lupin asked, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

Harry shook his head as his body tensed; he didn’t want pity. He wished they would stop talking so they could just start with the shopping. He didn’t want to talk about this.

"Harry, he’s there to help. I’m going to arrange for Madam Pomfrey to send a Dreamless Sleep Potion. I’ll have Bill give one to you every few nights, like we did last year. Is this the reason your light burns at all hours throughout the night?" Remus asked, keeping his voice low.

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. So they had noticed. Damn. He swallowed and willed himself to be invisible. He refused to look at either of them, but nodded slightly.

Remus put his fingers around Harry’s chin and forced him to raise his head once again. "I already told you, there is no reason to feel ashamed. You’ve certainly earned the right to be experiencing some difficulty. I’m certain if you asked her, Madam Pomfrey would even have a name for it. We’re going to start by helping with the nightmares. I think you’ll find that after we talk a bit about what happened, both the nightmares and the flashbacks will lose their intensity."

"But for now," Tonks thankfully interrupted, "let’s go shopping. I can’t stand looking at you in those awful clothes a minute longer."

They got off the bench and began walking along the sidewalk. Remus kept his arm around Harry’s shoulders. After a few minutes of silence, Harry asked, "What’s happening with Voldemort?"

Tonks eyes glanced warily up and down the street, looking for any potential eavesdroppers. Remus kept his voice very low, but answered, "As far as we know, he’s still recovering, as well. There have been no new attacks. His seize for power has been put on hold, since he knows he must eliminate you first. It gives us some time to work; unfortunately, it puts you at even greater risk.

"What else is new?" Harry asked hollowly.

"Our information is only sketchy, since our source has been compromised."

Compromised? Source? That means Snape. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in helping you and Ron escape, Snape risked exposure. He told them he placed a Memory Charm on both you and Ron in the hospital wing so you couldn’t identify him as a Death Eater, but Voldemort is suspicious and keeping him under close watch. Dumbledore, too, has to act as if he’s unsure about Snape’s true motives. It’s a mess and very dangerous for him. The one fortunate thing that has gone our way is that they assume Draco Malfoy was holding Ron’s wand and returned it in order to duel with him. When the remaining Death Eaters Disapparated, they took all their dead, except for young Draco, who was up on the stage. So far, they don’t appear to suspect Snape for the wands."

Harry’s guilt intensified. He still didn’t like Snape, but he did know they were working on the same side, and he didn’t want him hurt. It was his fault Snape’s cover was in jeopardy, and there was no excuse for it. Potions class was going to be torture, even more so that it usually was.

"Things get worse," Tonks said, as she and Remus shared a brief glance.

Harry held his breath, raising his eyebrows in question.

"There isn’t going to be a Vote of No Confidence. Fudge dodged another bullet with his wedding distraction. I think it’s only temporary, but, for now, he’s still in charge. We’ve got a suspicion that Voldemort has people working on the inside to keep him there."

"Why?" Harry asked in alarm. "Do you think Fudge is under the Imperius?"

"No, nothing like that. Fudge lacks intelligence; he’s short-sighted and power-hungry. He’s, in essence, ineffective, exactly who Voldemort wants in control while he prepares to strike," Remus answered.

"The Ministry is in shambles, no one knows what anyone else is doing, no one knows who to trust, and nothing is getting done. They’re all afraid to speak up, or out, against anyone, not knowing which side anyone is on," Tonks added. "With a little bit of money, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are able to pull the strings without actually taking control."

"It’s eerily similar to the way things were the first time Voldemort rose to power. Unfortunately, the mistakes of the past seem bound to be repeated," Remus said.

They’d arrived at the store and entered. Tonks led them directly to the young men’s apparel and began flicking through the rack. A pretty sales girl with blonde hair and lots of eye make up approached them. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes," Tonks said before Harry even had a chance. "My brother here needs a makeover. New everything."

The sales girl, whose nametag identified her as ‘Tara’, immediately brightened and ushered Harry to a desk. She pulled out a measuring tape and wrapped it around his waist, shoulders, and down his legs. She began eyeing him speculatively as she did so, and he was certain she slowed down considerably when measuring his inseam. He colored brilliantly as both Remus and Tonks hid their smirks.

"I’ll be right back," Tara said, smiling at him and slightly licking her bright red lips.

"Did you enjoy that, Harry?" Tonks asked with a grin, after Tara was out of earshot.

"Sod off," Harry replied good-naturedly, not meeting her eyes.

"Boxers or briefs?" she asked.

"What?" Harry asked, startled into facing her.

"Do you like Boxers or briefs?"

Harry really didn’t want to answer that question and didn’t see why she needed to know.

"Oh, for Merlin’s sake," she said, tugging at the belt of his very baggy jeans and peering in at the waistband of his pants.

"Hey!" Harry yelled indignantly, pulling away from her, while Remus chuckled out loud. Harry readjusted his clothing and stared at her in shock.

"Boxers," she stated without missing a beat. "We said a complete makeover, Harry. I’ll go pick out a few; you try on whatever Tara brings back. I’m certain she’d be happy to offer any assistance if you can’t get undressed yourself." She waggled her eyebrows at him before she turned and walked away.

Exasperated, Harry turned to Remus, who raised his hands defensively. "Don’t look at me. She’s the Auror; she’d wallop my arse in a duel."

Harry stood stunned for a moment, before bursting out with a snort. It felt good to laugh again. Tara had returned with an armload of things and led Harry to a dressing room. She walked in behind him and proceeded to hang the clothes together in outfits. The dressing room was small, and he tried to back as far into the corner as he possibly could. Still, she managed to brush against him several times before leaning directly into his chest to hang something on the hook behind him. "Let me know if you need anything," she said in a husky voice before departing.

By then, Harry was sweating and feeling very nervous. He proceeded to try on outfit after outfit, while both Tonks and Tara either approved or vetoed each article of clothing. When Tara went to exchange some things for different sizes, Tonks leaned over and asked him if he thought Tara was attractive.

Harry looked at her, stunned. He always thought Tonks liked Ginny; they’d always gotten on very well. "I already have a girlfriend," he said in a daze.

"Just because you’re on a diet doesn’t mean you can’t look at the menu," Tonks replied, smirking.

Remus finally put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. "She’s baiting you, Harry. If you had stepped one toe out of line, Ginny would have had a full report, probably with pictures. You passed the test."

Harry stared dumbfounded at Tonks, who stuck her tongue out at Remus. "Spoilsport," she hissed.

When they left, Harry had bought four new pairs of jeans, two blue and two black, a variety of tops, jumpers, trousers, shorts, underwear, socks, a jacket, raincoat, and even a bathing suit. He thought the bathing suit was completely unnecessary – he didn’t even know how to swim – but Tonks insisted he might like to take a dip in the lake once he was back at Hogwarts. He took the underwear Tonks had picked out without even looking at it, and was rather apprehensive about having to do so.

Once they were outside, Tonks shrunk all their packages so she could fit them right in her handbag. They stopped in several more stores along the way and picked out a few more items, including new trainers that Harry wore out of the store. They ate lunch in a small pub, and he delighted at being able to choose anything on the menu he desired. He picked the fish and chips – Aunt Petunia frequently had that, and it always smelled delicious. He liked it immensely and made a mental note to go out for it again one day. Harry enjoyed himself thoroughly, but couldn’t escape the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. He kept glancing behind him and kept his wand at the ready, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. Still, the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, and both Remus and Tonks noticed his discomfort.

"All right, Harry?" Remus asked.

"Yeah. Paranoid, I suppose. Must be Moody and his Constant Vigilance. I feel like someone is watching me."

Tonks jerked her head back and forth, narrowing her eyes. "I haven’t noticed anything," she said, although she was obviously on heightened alert.

"Best to stick with gut instincts, however," said Remus. "They’ve served you well in the past. Why don’t we head back to the Leaky Cauldron? Tom is holding the return Portkey for us."

They had returned to Privet Drive in what felt like no time at all. Harry sighed, looking at the neatly manicured garden. " I suppose this is it. Any word on when I can get out of here?" he asked, not expecting the answer he wanted.

"Dumbledore knows your relatives won’t consent to a move, and he also knows how much you want out. As soon as he’s certain the Blood Magic is in effect for another year, we’ll come to get you. Let Bill know if you have any problems, and I’ll make certain he gets a Sleep Potion to you for tomorrow night," Remus said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Tonks started to unload all his purchases, but he stopped her with his hand. "Erm, d’you think you could leave all that stuff at Mrs. Figg’s?" He’d left the store wearing a new pair of black jeans, a bright red T-shirt, and his new trainers. The rest of his things were still packed in the bags. Tonks had thrown away the old clothes of Dudley’s that he’d been wearing before they left the store.

"But, Harry, a lot of this is summer stuff. You can wear it now," Tonks said, her brow knitted in confusion.

"Erm…I know, but I want to wait until I’m back with the Weasleys…to show Ginny. Yeah, I want to show Ginny." Harry knew Aunt Petunia would never let him keep all those new clothes. She’d insist he stole them or something, and either return them to get things for Dudley, or just ruin them in the wash. She used to do that a lot if he ever showed a fondness for any of the clothes they gave him.

Remus shut his eyes, his expression grim, and Harry suspected he somehow knew what was happening. Harry didn’t want another confrontation with the Dursleys, and he couldn’t stand to see the pity in Remus’ eyes, so he quickly said his good-byes and sprinted into the house, grateful that they didn’t follow.

By the time Harry entered his bedroom, he was exhausted. This was the busiest day he’d had since getting back here, and it was catching up to him. Since he’d had such a big lunch, he decided to forego dinner. He changed into pajama bottoms, carefully folding his new clothes on the chair and hiding them under a Charms textbook that he knew Aunt Petunia would never touch. As he sat down, he realized Hedwig had a letter attached to her leg. He untied it carefully, scratching Hedwig’s head affectionately.

"Want to go out and hunt, girl? Go on, then," he said, opening the window and watching her soar into the dimming sky.

He picked up his letter, noting Hermione’s small, neat script. Breaking the seal, he read:

Harry,

How are you? I hope the Muggles are treating you well. You will tell someone if they aren’t, won’t you, Harry? I know Professor Lupin warned your uncle about keeping his hands to himself.

I’m having a wonderful holiday. Obviously I won’t say where we are, but we’re on the coast, and it’s very relaxing. It’s been nice to have so much time with my parents. I got a letter from Ginny, saying she and Ron went to visit you. Did you enjoy that? How does Ron seem to you? Try and work on him to practice for his Apparation test, Harry. It’s very important he be able to Apparate, so he can get away if needed. He doesn’t want to hear it from me; it just seems to make him angry. I seem to make him angry a lot these days.

I’ll be returning soon, and hope to meet up with you at the place. I hope you’re feeling better and taking care of yourself.

Love from,

Hermione

Harry folded the letter and placed it with his stack under the floorboards. With an amused grin, he pictured Hermione sunbathing on a beach with sunglasses and a huge book propped up in front of her, blocking all the sun. Relaxing, indeed. He wasn’t certain Hermione and relaxation, as most saw it, would mix. He was glad she was enjoying herself and getting to be with her parents. He’d write back to her tomorrow. He wasn’t certain how to tell her to back off a little, and Ron would come around. It wasn’t something Hermione found easy to do; he knew that well. He also knew that she cared a great deal and tried to control his own annoyance with her interfering. Things were just fine here at Privet Drive…

Harry was so tired, he didn’t put his full effort into Occlumency before falling into a fitful slumber.

He found himself in a luxurious bedroom, in which soft candlelight burned and the remains of a meal lay on a bedside table. Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him, bowing meekly.

"My Lord, plans are in place. The location is known and not enough time has passed to be a hindrance. Our plans are in motion," she said, a distinct note of glee in her voice.

"Very good, Bella. This will be the first step in ensuring my ultimate victory," Harry said through Voldemort’s mouth. The pressure in his head was intense, but he couldn’t break away.

"Potter is weakened; I can feel it. The time to strike is now. Have Narcissa and Lucius-"

The scene broke off with a flicker and seemed to shimmer before him. His head felt like it had been split down the middle, and he gasped at the intensity of it. Suddenly, he found himself back in Malfoy Manor, huddled on the floor while Lucius Malfoy’s cold, blue eyes glared down upon him.

"Come, Mr. Potter. Certainly, the ‘Hero of the Wizarding World’ can withstand more than this? A pitiful excuse for a hero you are. What would your loyal fans say if they could see you now, hmm? Cowering on the floor and crying like a little boy. Pitiful," he said, sighing and blasting yet another round of the Cruciatus at Harry. His vision blurred as white mask after white mask launched a variety of hexes. He tried to shield his body with his hands, but there were too many to keep up with the ferocity with which they were aimed.

The dream flickered again; this time, he was outside in the grand arena Voldemort had prepared. Harry was tied to the ground, unable to move or defend himself as Voldemort’s red, snakelike eyes came closer and closer. Harry felt long, thin fingers wrap around his throat, and Voldemort’s face loomed above him.

"I’m done with you, boy," he hissed.

Harry struggled to get away, but the pressure on his neck became stronger and stronger, and he was powerless to stop it. He was helpless yet again. He began to scream…

Harry awoke with a gasp and looked into the enraged face of his Uncle Vernon, who had his hand wrapped tightly around Harry’s throat and was squeezing hard enough to block the airflow. Harry put his hands around Uncle Vernon’s wrists and tried to pull him off.

"What the devil are you screaming about, boy? I will not have this again. I’ve had enough of all your foolishness. Stop this racket immediately. I’m done with you, boy," Uncle Vernon said, panting with the effort to hold Harry down.

"Gerroff," Harry said, struggling. He began to panic, since he couldn’t breathe. His struggling caused Uncle Vernon to bump the desk, knocking his new clothes to the floor, and spilling his change from the pocket.

Keeping one hand around Harry’s throat, Uncle Vernon used his other hand to scoop the pounds up off the floor. "What is this? Where did this money come from? Are you stealing now, boy? Is that where these clothes came from?"

"You will not harm Harry Potter!" a shrill voice echoed within the room. "Harry Potter is not a thief."

"Ahhhhhhhhh," Uncle Vernon screamed, releasing Harry and backing away towards the door, taking Harry’s money with him. Dobby advanced on him in a fury. If Harry hadn’t been so shaky, he would have found the sight of a hulking Uncle Vernon shrinking in terror from a pint-sized house-elf amusing.

"You will not enter Harry Potter’s room again," Dobby said.

"Wh-Wh-What is this abomination in my house? I won’t have it," he yelled before the door slammed shut with a resounding slam. Dobby rushed to Harry’s side.

"Is Harry Potter all right?"

Harry sunk wearily back into his bed, edging towards the wall and away from Dobby. "I’m okay, just tired. I’ll see you in the morning, Dobby."

Dobby hesitated, unsure if he should leave, but when Harry shut his eyes, effectively dismissing him, he disappeared with a "pop".

Chapter Five: End of an Era

Harry awoke feeling slightly dazed and confused. His head pounded, and he groggily tried to piece together what had happened during the night. Rubbing his temple, he tried to remember why he felt so lethargic. He’d had a dream…Voldemort was planning something with Bellatrix. The details were fuzzy, and he seemed to lose them as soon as he was close enough to remember. There was something important there…something just on the tip of his consciousness, but try as he might, he couldn’t grasp it. The dream had morphed into one of his standard nightmares, and that’s when Uncle Vernon arrived.

Harry rubbed his hand tenderly along his throat; the Silencing Charm on his door must have finally worn off. He was going to have to get Bill to put a new one on before this happened again. Bill! He had to get over to Mrs. Figg’s before Bill came over to the Dursleys’. That way, he could stall Dobby from telling Bill anything about what had happened. A little more time and distance might help diffuse the situation.

He put on his glasses and crept to the bathroom as silently as he could. There were no sounds of stirring, and he hoped to be done with his shower and out the door before any of the Dursleys awoke.

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he could see the vivid bruises in the shape of Uncle Vernon’s hand around his throat. He’d have to make certain his T-shirt covered that. Great.

Harry sighed as he stepped into the shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water spraying over him. He stood there for a while, easing the tension in his muscles. He probably should let Professor Dumbledore know about his dream, but he felt foolish writing just to say he’d had one, when he couldn’t remember any of the details. He thought perhaps he’d just tell Bill about it and see what he thought.

Getting out of the shower before he woke Uncle Vernon and got shouted at for using too much water, he put his new clothes back on and headed out the door. It was already fairly sticky outside, and he found himself wishing he’d kept a pair of shorts with him, as well. As he crossed over to Wysteria Walk, he again had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching him. Looking around apprehensively, he clutched his wand in his hand and hurried his pace.

When he arrived at Mrs. Figg’s, the front door was open, and he could hear voices through the screen. Recognizing the voice as one of the twins, he called inside. "Hello."

Bill came around the corner and swung the door open wide. "Harry, good morning. You’re up bright and early today."

"Yeah, thought maybe we could work over here for a change," he said, watching as Fred and George both entered the room from the kitchen.

"Harry, mate, smashing good to see you," Fred said.

"Hello, old boy. How goes the battle?" asked George.

Harry looked at the two of them warily. "What’s going on, and what don’t you want me to know about?" he asked.

"Harry, you make me feel like you don’t trust us," Fred said, holding his hands to his heart.

Harry arched his eyebrow and glared at the three brothers.

"All right, all right. It’s nothing, really," Bill said. "Dumbledore has everyone on heightened alert. Snape says there is something afoot, but they haven’t included him in any of the planning. As far as he knows, Voldemort is still not at full strength, so whatever this is, more than likely it’s only the Death Eaters who are involved."

Harry stilled, thinking a moment. Something from his dream tickled his awareness yet again, but he couldn’t get the memory to form. Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Everything all right on Privet Drive, Harry?" Bill asked quickly. He’d become far too adept at reading Harry’s moods.

"Yeah," Harry replied, looking up into his eyes and having an internal debate on how much to tell. "Only, I had a dream last night…well, it started as a vision."

The smiles slipped from both Fred and George’s faces. "What happened?" Bill asked, leaning in slightly.

"I don’t know," Harry burst out. "I can’t remember any of the details, I’ve tried. He was talking with Bellatrix Lestrange; they were plotting something…but that’s all I can remember."

Bill sighed, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Are you certain there isn’t anything else? Try and concentrate."

"I have been concentrating," Harry shouted. "I’ve tried all morning to remember, but I can’t. It was very brief and then transformed into a regular nightmare. If it were something urgent, I would have sent Hedwig to Dumbledore."

Bill put his hands up in a defensive posture. "Okay, okay. Sorry, Harry, I know you would. It just doesn’t give us anything more to go on, and it’s frustrating."

Harry took a deep, calming breath. "Sorry for shouting," he mumbled. "I’m frustrated, too."

"Speaking of nightmares, Fred and George brought this from Remus," Bill said, holding up a phial of what Harry assumed was a Dreamless Sleep Potion. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

Harry took the phial and shoved it in his pocket, averting his eyes from Bill’s probing gaze.

"Come on, Bill," George said. "You know Harry better than that. The only thing he ever says about himself is that he’s fine."

"Yeah," Fred said. "I bet he could be bleeding all over the floor and not want to put anyone through the trouble of having to wipe it up."

Harry desperately wanted to steer the conversation in another direction. "You said Professor Dumbledore has everyone on alert. What does that mean?"

"Means a lot of extra shifts and double guards on you," Fred answered.

"Why is he wasting people on me? I’m not going anywhere, and this is supposedly safe for me," Harry demanded angrily.

"Dunno, mate, you’ll have to ask Dumbledore that. We’re just doing what we’re told – for the first time in our lives, I might add. It just happens to have the added benefit of playing some pranks on you," George said, grinning. "What about that load of a cousin of yours. Any chance we’ll be seeing him today?"

Harry smiled reluctantly. "I don’t think so. Dudley hasn’t been so bad this year; we’ve even had a conversation."

"No," Fred said, looking aghast. "What is the world coming to?"

"Well, that puts a damper on our plans," said George, looking sadly at his sack of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes.

"All right, you lot," Bill said. "I need to get to work; I’ll join you for lunch." He turned and headed back upstairs to the room where he was staying.

"So," George said, removing several cats before he could sit on an overstuffed couch. "You know, Harry, when you started dating Ginny last term, you really put a crimp in our style."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, staring back and forth between the two of them in confusion.

"Well, we’d been testing a lot of our products on that Corner bloke she’d been dating when we were still at Hogwarts," Fred said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"Er…Harry…this is just between us blokes, right?" George asked, his expression slightly concerned. Fred, too, knitted his brow in concern.

"You were testing this stuff on Corner, and Ginny didn’t catch you?" Harry asked, finding that hard to believe. Ginny always managed to keep one step ahead of him.

"Yeah, well…she did catch us once, but I think she was mad at him at the time so she let it go," George said. "Anyway, we thought we could always use her boyfriends as unofficial guinea pigs, kind of an initiation by fire, to show them what they were in for. But when she started dating you, we couldn’t really do that, could we? It would be like pranking one of our own, never mind our chief investor."

Harry grinned, their words filling his heart with warmth. Hearing them say he was like one of their own pleased him more than they would ever know. "You can still try and prank me if you want, but now that I know what you’re up to, I’ll tell Ginny on you."

"What’s this? Famous Harry Potter hiding behind his girlfriend’s skirt?" Fred asked in mock horror.

"Yep. Have you seen what her Bat Bogey looks like?" Harry replied smugly.

Both Fred and George gulped audibly and nodded, wearing solemn expressions that looked out of place on their usually jovial faces.

The three spent an enjoyable day together and after lunch even got Bill to join them in the playpark. They again brought the football along and commenced an impromptu match. Harry was tired but happy as he trudged along back to the Dursleys’ at dinnertime.

Privet Drive was quiet, but Harry could smell dinner cooking in the kitchen and heard the low murmur of voices on the other side of the door. Not wanting to go inside just yet, he sat on the steps and watched the sun as it began its decent along the horizon. As he was sitting there, Dudley walked up the steps and sat down next to him.

Harry looked over at him, but Dudley remained silent, so Harry sat quietly, as well.

"How come you’re out here?" Dudley finally asked.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno, just not ready to go in yet. You?"

Dudley shrugged but was silent a moment more. "I saw Veronica today," he said at last.

Harry looked over at him keenly, trying to decipher Dudley’s mood from his actions. His cousin was giving nothing away. "And?"

Dudley took a deep breath, as if preparing for a steep dive. "We’re going on a date on Friday."

Harry grinned and slapped Dudley on the back without thinking who it was he was speaking. "Brilliant, mate."

Both boys seemed to realize what they were doing at the same moment, and shifted positions stiffly. "Erm…how did Piers take it?" Harry asked, deciding to try and keep the communication going.

Dudley shrugged. "He doesn’t know yet."

"Are you going to tell him before you go?"

"Dunno. D’you think I should?"

Harry considered this for a moment, imagining it was him and Ron in the same situation. "Yeah, I think you should. He might get mad, but it’ll be worse if he finds out afterwards. Especially if it’s someone else who tells him."

Dudley’s eyes opened like saucers, as if that thought had never occurred to him. "You’re right," he said, nodding absently. He seemed to realize again whom it was he was talking to and looked Harry up and down speculatively. "You know that game you said you played…Quidditch?"

"Yeah."

"D’you have any pictures of it, so I can see what it looks like?"

Harry grinned, thinking that his old copy of Quidditch Through the Ages should fascinate Dudley. It would be like a video game in a book that played itself. "Certainly. Come on upstairs, and I’ll show you."

The two boys entered the house and clomped up the stairs without telling Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia they were home. Harry went into his room, but Dudley stopped outside the door. "Bring it into my room; I have something I want to show you, as well," Dudley said, continuing down the hall.

Harry dug through his trunk, pulled out the book and headed into Dudley’s room. He’d never been invited in before; he’d only sneaked in occasionally when he needed something. "Here you go."

Dudley picked the book up gingerly, as if afraid the magical images were somehow contaminated.

"It doesn’t bite," Harry said, exasperated. "I do have another book that will, though."

Dudley looked at Harry, squinting his eyes as if trying to decide if Harry were joking or not. He began looking through the pages, staring more intently at each moving picture as he did.

"You play Seeker? It says that’s the most dangerous position. Ever get hurt?" he asked.

Harry chuckled. "Once or twice. The Healer at school fixes everyone right up, though."

"I’ve been to the school nurse a few times after wrestling meets, especially at the beginning. Don’t tell Dad that, though. You really do fly on a broomstick?" Dudley asked, the wonder in his voice unmistakable.

"I know. I was amazed by it the first time, too. Hold on a minute," Harry said, sprinting back to his own room. Tentatively, he opened his trunk and lifted out his Firebolt. He made certain there was no sign of Uncle Vernon as he brought it into Dudley’s room and held it out to him. "I’ve had this one since third year. My first one got ruined in a game."

Dudley reached over and tentatively picked up the Firebolt, looking it over. He lightly ran his hand along the handle and, seeming satisfied that nothing happened, began examining it more closely while Harry watched him.

Both boys were startled when the door slammed open, revealing the infuriated face of Vernon Dursley. He was nearly purple with rage, and he seemed to be gasping for air. Harry became slightly alarmed that he might be having a heart attack.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded in a strained, subdued voice that worried Harry more than a shout would have.

"D-Dad," Dudley said, his eyes nearly bugging out of the sockets.

"Get out, Dudley. Go downstairs, now." Uncle Vernon’s words were clipped and left no room for argument.

Dudley cast a wary glance at Harry before dropping the Firebolt and sprinting from the room.

"I have had all I’m going to take from you, freak," Vernon snarled, stalking across the room towards Harry. "You’ve brought hideous creatures into my home to threaten me, there are freaks roaming the yard, terrorizing your aunt, and now…now I come in here to find you trying to corrupt my boy with your unnaturalness? I WON’T HAVE IT."

Harry had backed away from his raging uncle and found himself pressed against the desk; he’d gone as far back as he could go. He put his arms out in front of him, trying to calm Uncle Vernon down. "It wasn’t like that," he said. "We were just talking."

"Talking about a broomstick? Since when does Dudley talk to you? He wouldn't unless you or those Dementoids did something to him. I won’t tolerate this, you miserable little freak."

Over the years, Harry had gotten very good at anticipating and ducking Vernon’s blows. He was much smaller and quicker than his uncle and usually didn’t have a problem escaping. This time, however, he was trapped and too stunned to move in time. Uncle Vernon’s fist caught him on the side of his head, spinning him around and causing him to fall against the desk. The pain exploded along his cheekbone as he crashed to the floor, pulling the contents of the desk down upon him. He nearly blacked out in pain as Dudley’s computer hit him in the head and shattered the monitor, embedding tiny bits of glass in his skin.

He didn’t have time to clear his head, as Vernon grabbed him by the collar and lifted him roughly to his feet. Harry’s glasses were broken and hanging precariously from his face, his whole world was spinning. "Get out," Vernon spat. "Get out and never show your face here again. We’re done with you. I don’t care what was agreed upon, I will not have my family exposed to you for another day. Get out, good riddance and never return. I should have done this years ago."

Harry was stunned and feeling slightly panicked about what to do. Professor Dumbledore had sent an owl to Aunt Petunia the last time Uncle Vernon tried to throw him out, but there would be no warning this time. Should he leave? He’d only been home for two weeks, certainly that couldn’t be enough time for the blood protection to regenerate for another year. Still, he didn’t seem to have any choice. He hadn’t seen Uncle Vernon this upset in a long time. His own anger was rising, and he struggled to control it. He jerked away from his uncle’s grasp and steadied himself by the door.

As Uncle Vernon began advancing towards him, Harry drew his wand. He’d had enough. "That’s enough, Uncle Vernon," he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could.

Uncle Vernon laughed somewhat hysterically. "You can’t use that on me, that freak school will throw you out."

"Yeah, is that what you want? For me to be stuck here even longer?" Harry asked recklessly. He didn’t care anymore; if he was going to go, he wasn’t going to go quietly.

"It doesn’t matter, because you won’t be staying here," Uncle Vernon roared.

Grabbing his Firebolt off the floor, Harry scooted out of Dudley’s room. He didn’t want to leave all his stuff, but feared what Uncle Vernon would do if he tried to collect it. Perhaps it would be better to wait at Mrs. Figg’s for a while, before seeing if Professor Dumbledore would sort this all out with Aunt Petunia again. He started down the stairs, feeling a rough shove on his back. He stumbled and fell down the last few steps, quickly catching himself and this time ducking Vernon’s next blow.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia questioned sharply from the doorway of the kitchen.

"He’s leaving, Petunia. I’ve had enough. He was showing Dudley his…things. You know the way Dudley’s been acting; it’s his fault and I won’t have it. This isn’t up for discussion."

Aunt Petunia’s face paled at the comment about Dudley. She cast worried eyes at Harry. For a brief moment, she seemed indecisive before her stony expression returned. She gave a slight nod, and Vernon whipped open the front door.

Harry turned icy green eyes on his relatives. "Thanks so much for your overwhelming kindness through the years," he said, sarcasm blatantly dripping from every word.

"Get out," Uncle Vernon spat, pushing Harry roughly on the back and slamming the door behind him. Harry landed hard on the stone porch, scraping his hands in the process. Getting up and dusting himself off, he picked up his broom and began the trek to Mrs. Figg’s. He was dreading what he was going to have to tell them and was trying to work out how to explain while revealing as little as possible. He didn’t want to have to admit how little his family wanted him. Even though he knew they were all aware of that fact, he didn’t want to have to say it out loud.

The entire side of his face was throbbing, and when he wiped at his mouth, his hand came away stained with blood. Just great. He was tempted to turn around and argue through the door, but he really didn’t want to stay here. Maybe it had been enough time, and this would be a great reason to speed up the process so he could leave now.

As Harry was walking past the house of his next-door neighbor, his heart froze in horror when he heard multiple ‘popping’ sounds behind him. Oh, no. No, no, no.

He did have his wand, for all the good it would do him. He wasn’t certain if his magical reserve was even strong enough yet to create a shield. Ducking behind a tree, he peered around to number four and counted at least ten robed Death Eaters on the front lawn. He had to squint to see them; his glasses were broken and one eye was swelling shut.

Harry swallowed the bile in his throat at the sight of the white masks. His mind began playing tricks on him, flashing back and forth between his time at Malfoy Manor and the present situation. He shook his head hard, trying to clear it and focus on what was going on before him. There would be time for panic later; for now, he had to think. The white masks were unnerving him, reminding him of his captivity. He thought he could recognize a few of the masked Death Eaters by limps, or brief body movements.

He didn’t have time to get to Mrs. Figg’s and back with help in time, not even if he used the Firebolt. If the Death Eaters were here because the wards had collapsed when Uncle Vernon threw him out, wouldn’t Dumbledore know that, too? Maybe the Order would get here in time. In the meantime, how was he possibly going to defend the Dursleys and not get himself captured again, with only limited use of his magic?

His heart beat wildly in his chest, and he felt drops of sweat rolling down his face and neck. He couldn’t let them capture him again; he’d never survive another battle with Voldemort right now. The idea of being locked up made him shudder. He licked his lips, tasting the metallic trace of too much adrenaline.

"Haawwy. Haawwy," a hated, singsong voice called out from his yard. "Come out and play with me."

Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry felt a familiar surge of all-consuming hatred well up within his chest. He despised that woman. She’d killed Sirius and had been the most frequent of his tormentors at Malfoy Manor. You’ll be begging for the release of death when I’m through with you.

"Come on, Haawwy. We’ll be jolly playmates, forever more," she cackled, striding up to the front steps. "Didn’t we have so much fun when we played last time?" When Harry didn’t respond, he heard her hiss, "Kill the Muggles, but leave Potter to me."

At that moment, Uncle Vernon opened the front door wide and stepped out onto the porch. "Get out of here, all of you. He’s not here; he’s gone, and he won’t be back," he said, his voice wavering slightly.

Harry had to act. He raised his wand and sent a Banishing Charm directly at Uncle Vernon. It hit him square in the chest and forced him back inside. Before Harry could get off a second spell to shut the door, however, he heard Bellatrix screech the hated words in delight, "Avada Kedavra."

Feeling drained from the brief bit of magic he’d used, Harry leaned against the tree and watched in sickening horror as Uncle Vernon was hit just as he sat up from Harry’s spell. He slumped over in a heap, no longer caring about the magic being performed there.

Bellatrix had turned towards Harry’s hiding spot. "I think maybe wittle Haawwy is here. One down, Haawwy; how many more inside?"

Harry remained silent, his mind working furiously, trying to come up with an idea for what to do. Bellatrix wasn’t waiting. Raising her wand, she aimed it at his hiding spot and said, "Diffindo."

Harry tried to raise a shield, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop her curse. He felt his shield flicker and give out before a sharp pain erupted along his entire right side. He stumbled, but held his position as his vision blurred and the world seemed to tilt. He held onto the tree, gasping and trying to fight the murky darkness that threatened to envelop him.

*******

Ron sat in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, waiting for his father to enter so they could begin their nightly chess match. His father was the one who had taught Ron to play chess when he was young, and now Ron could beat him nearly every game. He and his dad had been playing nightly, and Ron had grown dependent on their matches. His father was just about the only one, aside from Harry, who didn’t make Ron angry these days.

He had been snapping at everyone, and he wasn’t certain why. Everything irritated him, and anyone trying to ask him why he was irritated…well, that irritated him most of all. He suspected this is what Harry felt like most of the time…and it really sucked. Ron had always had a short fuse, quick to explode, but also quick to cool off. Once he blew, he generally got over it. Lately, though, the anger just wouldn’t fade. It had been this way ever since their escape from Malfoy Manor. Stupid Malfoy. It was his own fault; he was the one who had set the whole thing up in the first place. Whoever got himself killed from a Disarming Spell, anyway…

Ron sighed; he’d been over this in his head a hundred times already. He’d meant to disarm him, to stop him from attacking. Ron had seen him go at Harry when it was obvious there was no way Harry could fight back. He’d just had a duel with bloody sodding Voldemort, for crying out loud. Ron had to stop him. He hadn’t intended to kill him; it hadn’t been meant that way. Still…he was a killer now. What kind of person did that make him? When he was confronted with violence again, as he knew he would be – they were at war after all – would he kill again? Would he find it easier now? Ron continued setting the chess pieces on the board, lost in thought.

Ginny sat at a desk in the corner, writing a long letter, by the looks of it. Probably to Harry; she was dying to send out that new owl he had sent her. Thinking of that owl made Ron feel guilty; he should do something nice for Hermione. He’d really been treating her rather badly these last few weeks. She sent him letters nearly every day, asking him over and over how he was doing, offering helpful hints on what he should be doing to make himself feel better. She was trying to help, but it was annoying him, and he barely answered one out of every three of her letters. What did Harry have to go and send Ginny that owl for, anyway? It was just making Ron look bad. He sighed and continued setting up the chessboard.

It wasn’t Harry’s fault. In fact, Ron had been giving Ginny a hard time lately about using Pig. Even if he wasn’t always writing Hermione, he wanted to know he could if he needed. The day Ron had gone to visit Harry had been good. It was the only time this summer he’d actually started to feel like himself. Harry had even helped him practice Apparating. He knew it was his own fault he’d failed the test; he should have revised more. Still, he’d managed it working with Harry, and he hoped another session or two would do the trick.

A loud commotion from the kitchen caught his attention. He heard a rumble of voices, then a number of footsteps in the entrance hall. Ginny looked up from her letter and towards the door. She turned to him, questions burning in her eyes. Ron shrugged and got up, moving towards the door. Ginny got there first and stopped the twins as they tried to spring past.

"What’s going on?" she demanded.

"Not now, Ginny," Fred said, trying to get by her. The look of concern in both his brothers’ eyes told Ron something was wrong. Something big. Ron was determined that he was not going to be left in the dark again.

Ginny, too, caught on and refused to let go of Fred. George had already moved by them and sprinted for the hall.

"Fred," Ron said, putting a hand on his arm. "What’s wrong?"

Fred shook his head in exasperation, yanking his arm out of Ginny’s grasp and causing her to stumble. "Sorry, Ginny; I’ve got to go. The wards came down on Privet Drive," Fred yelled as he ran after the others.

Ron and Ginny stood, unmoving, shock and fear written on both their faces. He watched as Ginny’s eyes filled with tears, and he quickly grabbed her hand. "Come on, we’ll see if anyone’s in the kitchen who will tell us anything."

He pulled Ginny behind him and hurried down the stairs. She appeared numb; the shock of Fred’s words not quite registering. In the kitchen, they found their mother pacing in front of the fireplace, wringing a dishtowel in her hands in agitation.

"Mum," Ron began nervously, determined that she wasn’t going to shut them out of this. This was Harry.

"Oh, Ron, Ginny," she cried, pulling them both into a fierce embrace.

"What’s happening, Mum?" Ginny asked. Her voice quavered slightly, but Ron could see the resolve in her eyes.

"Let’s not worry yet-" she began, before Ron cut her off.

"Mum, we know about the wards coming down on Privet Drive. What happened?"

His mother sighed, clutching the dishtowel even tighter in her hands. "That’s all I know. Professor Dumbledore has a way to monitor the wards at Harry’s house. He made a firecall and said they’d come down and for everyone to get there immediately. That’s all I know. Why don’t you two wait upstairs? I’ll come get you as soon as there is any news."

"No," Ron said, crossing his arms across his chest. "I’m waiting right here."

"Me, too," Ginny said, sniffling. The tears she’d been struggling with were beginning to make silent tracks down her cheeks.

His mum seemed to accept that this was a battle she could not win. "Well, if you’re going to wait here in the kitchen, at least make yourselves useful and help me clean up."

Ron groaned as he began clearing the dinner dishes, although he could admit to himself that it was better to have something to do while he waited. Time passed incredibly slowly as the three of them waited in the tension-filled kitchen. They completed the clean-up silently, lost in their own thoughts as they all kept glancing apprehensively at the empty grate.

Ron hated sitting around and feeling helpless. Ron knew that feeling well. He’d spent days pacing in that little room they’d locked him in, thinking about Harry locked up with a Dementor. He could hear Ginny sniffling every once in a while and saw his mother squeeze her shoulders reassuringly now and again. Ron kept pacing. He knew if he sat still, he’d go insane. He wanted to do something. He was seventeen; he was of age and should be there helping out. The more time that went by without news, the more he felt the anger inside him growing. The rational side of his brain knew that now wasn’t the time to get into this again, but that side was rapidly being drowned out by the side that wanted action. What was happening on Privet Drive? What had happened to Harry?

*******

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. He was unsteady on his feet and couldn’t seem to control the trembling in his limbs. The Death Eaters swarmed the area, moving ever closer to his hiding spot behind the tree.

It was then that Aunt Petunia appeared in the doorway of the house on number four, Privet Drive.

"Vernon!" Harry heard her anguished screech. No, please don’t let this be happening. He saw the Death Eaters again raise their wands, and he managed to fire a "Stupefy" at the one nearest Aunt Petunia. The man stumbled, but didn’t fall, and Harry knew that he’d drained his magical reserves once again.

Aunt Petunia wailed loudly, and he heard her angry voice ring into the night. "How could you let them do this? After all we’ve done for you. You just give them what they want and stop this before they hurt my Diddyums, too." She broke off, sobbing incoherently. Harry’s heart tied in a knot. He started to move from his hiding spot; he had to do something. He didn’t have a choice; he just couldn’t watch and do nothing while they killed the Dursleys. He had to get help.

He was about to mount his broomstick when strong hands grabbed him and pulled him back behind the tree. He turned in alarm to find Tonks holding onto him, trying to pull him further up the street. "They killed him," he said, his mind feeling numb as Tonks struggled to move him along. His eyes were wide and dazed; he was dimly aware of a pain in his side. In the brief moment it took for him to look at Tonks, another flash of deadly green light was released towards Aunt Petunia, and she, too, crumpled into an unmoving heap. The tree that had been Harry’s cover a moment before splintered into a million pieces as a volley of curses from the Death Eaters hit it. Harry’s mind had gone numb, a loud buzzing rang in his ears, and he didn’t know from where it was coming. His side felt warm and sticky and uncomfortably wet. I’m sorry, Mum.

The rest of the Order had arrived, and a fierce battle was taking place on the lawn of immaculate number four. Bright colors illuminated the sky as their spells flew back and forth at a furious pace. Tonks had continued to drag Harry away and nearly had him past the next house when he pulled away. His heart had seized up as he watched Dudley walk out onto the porch. "No," he cried, trying to sprint back towards his cousin but only succeeded in staggering a few steps.

"Petrificus Totalis," Tonks said, and Harry fell over, lying on his side, unable to move. Although he could have shut his eyes, he didn’t. He forced himself to watch as Dudley, too, was struck down with the Killing Curse. Harry vomited right there on the ground.

"Oh, Harry," Tonks whispered, quickly pulling him away from the mess. "I’m sorry, kid, but I couldn’t let you run into that. I have to get you back to Arabella’s. Moody and the others will take care of this."

The lights seemed to be dimming, and Harry was having trouble following Tonks’s words. His tongue felt too big in his mouth, causing him to slur his words. "Dudley. He invited me into his room." The intense pain along his side that had torn into him with every step Tonks took didn’t seem to matter anymore.

"Harry? Harry, why are you bleeding? Did you get hit?" Tonks asked. She’d dragged him under a street lamp and was looking at the damage to his face that Uncle Vernon had caused. "Stay with me, kid," she said, running her hands over him and examining him for any other injuries. She took a sharp intake of breath when she reached the side he’d been lying. Her hand came away dripping with blood.

Harry looked up into her shocked gaze before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he knew no more.

*******

Ron, Ginny, and their mother were still pacing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and snapping at one another in their frustration. When the fire in the grate flared green, they all caught their breath and hurried over. Tonks’s wan face appeared, and she seemed frantic.

"Molly, get Poppy here, now," she said, and the flame died again.

Ron and Ginny looked at each other in stunned disbelief. That was it? No news, no information. How could she not tell them anything?

His mum didn’t let it faze her. She threw some Floo powder in the grate and tracked down Madam Pomfrey. It took several attempts, but she finally located her and directed her to Apparate immediately to Arabella Figg’s house.

"If they need Madam Pomfrey, that means he’s hurt. Why didn’t she tell us anything? Mum, I have to get over there," Ginny cried, reaching for the Floo powder.

"You’ll do no such thing. Tonks didn’t give us any information, because she’s dealing with more important things right now. When she’s certain Harry is all right, she’ll let us know what happened. Both of you, go up and prepare Harry’s bed for him; I’m certain they’ll be bringing him back here."

Ron knew it was another mindless task. They didn’t even know what kind of shape Harry was in, or if he’d be well enough to come here. But, again, he didn’t mind; it was something to do. Ron filled the water pitcher and placed it on the nightstand. He watched Ginny as she proceeded to put new sheets on Harry’s bed, fluffing his pillow with care and tenderly adding an extra blanket. She kept swiping at her eyes while she worked, and Ron wasn’t certain what to say to her to make her feel better. He wished Hermione were here; she always knew what to say.

"He’ll be all right, Ginny. He always is – he’s Harry," Ron said at last.

Ginny’s shoulders seemed to stiffen. "Would you put a Warming Charm on these blankets?" she asked, ignoring his comment completely.

"Warming Charm? Ginny, it’s July."

Her eyes flashed in anger. "If he’s hurt badly, he’ll need the warmth, and I can’t do magic – you can. I want a Cooling Charm on the room and a Warming Charm on the blankets."

Ron wasn’t about to argue with her glare. He quickly did as she asked, shaking his head all the while. Ginny turned on her heel and marched back downstairs. Ron took one last look at his own bed, made certain Ginny wasn’t within earshot, and cast the same Warming Charm on his own blankets. No sense in being cold.

He thought about sending Pig to Hermione with a note, but he really didn’t have anything to tell her yet, so he thought he’d better wait until he knew what was happening. Following Ginny downstairs, he found his mother still pacing in the kitchen. Ron fell into step behind her as they continued to wait.

"Will the two of you sit down," Ginny snapped. "You’re wearing a hole in the floor."

"All right, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said. "We’re all worried; let’s not take it out on each other."

Ginny was about to retort when the fireplace once again flared with green flames. Bill’s face appeared, looking drawn and haggard. "Mum," he called.

"Bill, what’s happening? How’s Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Ron and Ginny stood anxiously on each side of her.

Bill sighed. "I don’t have all the answers yet. Everybody from the Order made it out. We’ll be bringing Harry back to Headquarters after Madam Pomfrey stabilizes him."

"Stabilizes him? What’s wrong with him?" Ginny demanded, clutching her mother’s hand.

"He got hit hard with a slicing curse. When Tonks found him, she didn’t notice right away, and when she finally did, he’d already lost a whole lot of blood. It took her a while to get him back to Arabella’s without being seen. Madam Pomfrey has closed him up and given him a Blood Replenishing Potion. Those potions are time delayed, and we have to wait before we can give him the next dose; he hasn’t come around yet to answer any questions."

"Tell us what you do know, Bill," his mother said in a very shaky voice.

"As near as we can figure, Harry had a row with his uncle, and Dursley threw him out. As soon as that happened, the blood magic was negated, and the wards came down. The Death Eaters must have been watching the house the same way we were, because they were already there when we arrived."

"How do you know Harry’s relatives threw him out, and that it wasn’t the Death Eaters who were responsible for bringing the wards down?" Ginny asked.

"Harry’s face is pretty beat up, and not from a wand." Bill paused for a moment, seeming to hesitate on how much to say. "We also found bruising around his neck in the shape of a handprint. When we got inside the house and found Dobby, he said that he’d thrown Dursley off Harry the previous night. Harry asked me when he first got here to put a Silencing Charm on his room; it must have worn off. He’d told me about a nightmare with a connection to Voldemort earlier today. I reckon he woke his uncle."

"They were warned to keep their hands off him," his mother screeched. "What kind of person hurts a child for having a nightmare? What is wrong with that man?" Ron glanced warily at the rage he saw in her eyes and knew he wouldn’t want to be Vernon Dursley for anything in this world when she got hold of him.

"He’s never going back there again," Ginny said, her eyes flashing much like her mother’s.

"No," Bill said, sighing. "He’s not. They’re dead."

All three of the Weasleys listening at Grimmauld Place stood perfectly still, stunned by his statement. Ron watched his mother slap her hand over her mouth, as if trying to take back her angry words.

"What?" he finally choked out. Harry didn’t need this; hadn’t he already lost enough? He could see Ginny covering her face with her hands.

"When the Death Eaters arrived, they just went in firing, from what we can tell. Tonks found Harry outside, taking cover behind a tree. He must have tried to fight them, because Madam Pomfrey says his magical reserves are depleted again, and there is an owl here from the Ministry with a warning about the use of underage magic," Bill said. "Dad went to the Ministry to straighten it out. Tonks had to petrify Harry when he tried to run back to save his cousin, but there was nothing he could do. Unfortunately, that meant he had to lie there and watch the whole thing. It was while he was down that she realized how badly he was bleeding."

"Oh, no," Ginny whispered, as several tears fell unchecked down her cheek. Ron was mesmerized, watching them fall. His head was spinning, and he couldn’t seem to grasp onto any single fact. Harry’s relatives were all dead. He knew Harry hated them, and that they’d been awful to him. Still, he knew Harry, and he was going to take this badly.

"That’s not the end of it. Tonks said that before they killed his aunt, she blamed Harry for all of it."

Ron shut his eyes in a grimace. Damn.

Sniffing back her tears, his mother asked, "When is he getting here? He is coming here to us. He needs to be with us, Bill."

"Like I said, Madam Pomfrey is keeping a close eye on him, and she doesn’t think he’s ready to be moved if he doesn’t have to be. The Muggle authorities are all over the Dursleys’ house, but we managed to get his stuff out before they arrived. As soon as everyone is back here, we’ll bring him to you. Dumbledore did say he’d be going there, at least until he recovers."

Ron’s mind was moving quickly over all the information Bill had given, moving the pieces around like a chessboard in his mind. If Harry’s Aunt Petunia were dead, and the wards came down before the blood protection had gone into effect…

"Bill, what does this mean for Harry? The blood protection wasn’t activated, and if Harry’s aunt is dead…?" he asked.

Bill sighed and clenched his eyes shut. "It means Harry is an open target. The last of the protection from his mother’s sacrifice is gone. Dumbledore has already gone back to Hogwarts to work on a new plan to keep him safe until term starts."

"I want to come over," Ginny said. "Just let me come and sit with him for a while. I won’t get in the way."

"No, Ginny; it’s too dangerous," his mother said.

"No," Bill said at the same time. "I’m sorry, Ginny, but it really is still too unstable here. We don’t know if the Death Eaters know about Arabella, or if they’ll be back. Just wait up; I’m certain Harry’s going to need you when he comes around." With that, Bill disappeared from the fireplace.

Ginny angrily turned her back on their mother and stalked up the stairs to her room. More waiting, and, this time, there was nothing to do to occupy the time.

*******

Harry found himself on a soft featherbed; a warm quilt was thrown over him and a fire blazed in the hearth. He’d been in this room before, but he couldn’t remember when. He was warm and sleepy, and felt very content. A great, shaggy, black dog was curled up next to him, snuggling up to his side and keeping him warm. His hand rested in the dog’s thick fur, and he gently petted it. The dog looked up, his dark eyes seeming bottomless and full of sympathy, as he leaned over and licked at Harry’s face. Harry pulled away, laughing slightly. He snuggled deeply into the dog’s warmth and drifted back to sleep.

He knew that dog would stay there, guarding him and keeping him from harm. He could rest for a while.

Chapter Six: Recovering...Again

Ginny lay on the bed in her room at Grimmauld Place, angrily kicking her foot and staring at the wall. She was sick and tired of being treated like a child by the rest of her family. They acted as if she couldn’t handle herself at all, when she was the only one of them that had actually come in direct contact with Tom. He may have gotten the best of her, but she’d fought him long and hard for the better part of a year – when she was eleven. She was capable of a whole lot more than they gave her credit. It was Harry who was hurting and in trouble; she should be with him. He needed her; she knew that he did, and she needed to be with him, too. They had no right to keep them apart.

This was too soon for this all to be happening to him again. He still hadn’t even recovered from his last encounter. She knew the guilt would overwhelm him. The Dursleys were assassinated because of their ties to him, plain and simple. It was wrong, and unfair, and so very despicable. They were Muggles – they never stood a chance. She hated them for what they’d done to Harry, but she would never wish this on them. No one deserved to be wiped simply on the whim of a madman. Professor Dumbledore had been wrong about sending Harry back there year after year. Knowing what Harry had gone through year after year and now having it all be for naught; it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Ginny was angry and frustrated, so she began doing what she always did when she felt that way. She started rearranging her room – moving the furniture, changing the pictures on the wall, and completely reorganizing it. Her room at the Burrow had been through more transformations than she could count. This room at Grimmauld Place had gone through one complete revamping this summer alone. She had trouble moving her bureau and kicked it in frustration, stubbing her toe painfully in the process. She hopped around in her stocking feet and swore under her breath.

She was certain Ron was writing to Hermione, and she thought maybe she’d send her friend a letter, too, if Harry still wasn’t here when she finished with her room. She wanted to send her new owl on a delivery, and she didn’t think Ron would give all the details that she knew Hermione would want.

The owl had come as a complete surprise to Ginny, albeit a delightful one. She was inwardly pleased that Harry was thinking of her while they were apart. She’d named her Delilah and fell in love with her instantly. She was a very affectionate little thing, and Pig adored her. Ginny had never had a pet of her own before, and it made her feel oddly important.

She finished moving all the furniture in her bedroom around and stood looking at the results. She wasn’t certain if she really liked it this way or not. It was still eerily quiet downstairs, and she uttered a string of curse words that would have made her brothers proud, although shocked that they were coming from her. How dare they leave me out of this? She knew they were all truly trying to protect Harry, but they continued to treat him like an object rather than as a person. That wasn’t what he needed, and she knew it. She also really resented being treated like a child. There were times when she liked being the youngest and wasn’t opposed to playing it up to get what she wanted, but there were other times when it drove her crazy. She wanted it both ways and really didn’t give a rat’s arse if that was unfair. What the devil is taking so long?

Loud voices from the entrance hall caught her attention, and she tore her door open and raced downstairs, hearing Ron following right on her heels. She arrived to find her mother trying to clear a path out of the room while Bill and Remus carried an unconscious Harry between them. He looked horribly pale and battered with bloodstains still covering most of his clothing.

"Let me levitate him up the stairs," her mother offered, but Remus nearly snarled at her as he held Harry’s limp body closer to his chest.

"It’s all right, Mum," Bill said, glancing at Remus. "We’ve got him. Madam Pomfrey said not to bounce him around too much."

Ginny knew that carrying him was probably bouncing him much more than a Levitation Charm would, but even she didn’t have the courage to say that to Remus. He had a gleam in his eyes that looked almost deranged, and she knew he was beside himself with worry. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to hold Harry close and physically protect him; she was struggling with the exact same feeling. She could see Tonks watching Remus carefully, the concern in her eyes evident. Her eyes met with Ginny’s across the room, and she gave a brief nod of understanding.

Ginny swallowed against a hard lump in her throat, a new appreciation for how difficult a night it had been for all of them filling her consciousness. She jumped at the sound of Ron’s voice; she’d forgotten he’d come down the stairs behind her. "How is he?"

Neither Bill nor Remus answered but continued up the stairs towards Harry’s room, supporting his body between them.

"He’s still the same," Fred said, leaning against the wall. Both he and George looked thoroughly exhausted, and Ginny paled to see that they had blood covering their clothing, as well. They didn’t appear to be injured, so she assumed the blood belonged to Harry.

Ron, Ginny, and their mother followed the group upstairs; each lost in their own thoughts. Bill and Remus had lain Harry in his bed, but it appeared he hadn’t stirred at all despite all the jostling.

"Oh, the poor dear," her mother said, gently brushing the fringe off Harry’s forehead. One of his eyes was puffy, and a deep bruise ran along his cheekbone and down the side of his face. His lips were cracked and swollen. "Has he woken at all?"

"No," Bill said. "Madam Pomfrey gave him another dose of the Blood Replenishing Potion before she left. She said she’d be here in the morning to check on him. She wanted to bring him to Hogwarts, but Remus thought he’d be better off here, and I agreed with him. I think Harry is going to take the Dursleys’ deaths badly."

"Why should he, though? He hated them. Look what the bastard did to him," Ron said, staring at the vivid bruises on Harry’s face. His voice sounded very hard and bitter; Ginny found it disturbing.

"He never wanted them dead, Ron," she said, gently sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed and taking his limp hand in her own. "He just wanted to leave and not have to go back, but he would never wish this on anyone. It is going to bother him; you know it is."

Ron looked away without replying, but Ginny saw his shoulders slump slightly. It was in Ron’s nature to be protective, and she loved that he watched out for Harry.

"What are we supposed to do for him? When will he wake up, and did Poppy leave anything for him if he’s in pain?" her mother asked, keeping her eyes locked with Bill’s and not looking at Harry.

Ginny knew the physical evidence of his uncle’s abuse was greatly disturbing her mother. She was certain that her mum was berating herself for not insisting that Harry be taken out of that house. Her mum had struggled against Professor Dumbledore’s insistence that they not interfere with the Muggles. Ginny could sympathize with her on those thoughts, and she was sure her mum would have a lot to say to Professor Dumbledore when he arrived. What Ginny didn’t understand was why they were all whispering if they wanted Harry to wake up, anyway. But she couldn’t help whispering, too; it seemed like the natural thing to do.

"Poppy doesn’t think he’ll wake any time soon, and she said she would be here in the morning with his next dose of potions," Remus said. His voice was calm and gentle, but his eyes looked so full of turmoil. Ginny was struck by a similarity to Harry – always keeping his emotions in such tight control.

"Are you all right, Remus?" Ginny asked.

He sighed, but gave her a small, grateful smile. "I’ll be all right, Ginny. I wish we could have spared him this. Madam Pomfrey says she can’t understand how he was still on his feet when Tonks found him. The amount of blood loss he sustained should have had him unconscious long before he finally passed out. She’s at a loss to explain how he didn’t die before Tonks finally got him back to Mrs. Figg’s."

Ginny shuddered and grasped Harry’s hand more tightly, the words of the prophecy playing in her mind. If Harry was the only one who could kill Voldemort, did that mean that only Voldemort could kill Harry, as well? She didn’t know, and she certainly didn’t want to keep testing the theory.

Harry stirred just then, his head giving a slight turn as his eyebrows furrowed. He whimpered slightly before settling into a deep sleep once again. Everyone in the room had tensed and stared expectantly at him. When he didn’t move again, they released a collective breath.

"Bill, Remus, both of you look dead on your feet. Go on up to your rooms and lie down; I’ll send up some tea," her mother said.

Remus seemed reluctant to leave, but, casting one last look at Harry’s sleeping face, he relented. He gave Ron and Ginny a nod that seemed to say, ‘Take care of him’, and followed Bill from the room.

Ron sat down on his bed and looked over at her with a shrug. They continued to stare at Harry, willing him to wake up and tell them he was all right.

"We’ve been doing this a lot this year," Ron finally said.

"Too much," Ginny agreed.

The door opened with a creak, and Fred and George walked in, both dragging their feet. George sat next to Ron on his bed, while Fred remained standing, looking very uncomfortable.

"Are you two all right?" Ginny asked. She’d never before seen the two of them so lifeless.

"Yeah, just tired," George replied. "We’ve got the rest of Harry’s stuff downstairs with Dobby. We managed to get it all out before the Muggle pleaze-men arrived."

Fred just stood in the same spot, staring at Harry with an unfathomable expression.

"What’s with him?" Ron asked, nodding his head towards Fred.

"Just this morning, we were talking with Harry about how he never said anything about the nightmares he’s been having," Fred answered for himself, never taking his eyes off of Harry. "I joked with him about how he always says he’s fine, and that if he were bleeding all over the floor, he wouldn’t want to trouble anyone to clean it up. That’s exactly what I ended up doing tonight at Mrs. Figg’s."

Ginny’s heart went out to her brother, seeing the regret on his face. While growing up with the twins’ joking, there had been plenty of times she’d got so frustrated with them and wished they’d take something seriously. Watching Fred’s devastation over the joke he’d made, she took all that back. She wanted the twins to be fun-loving and mischievous. They all needed their jokes now.

"Don’t blame yourself, Fred. You couldn’t have known," she said, squeezing Fred’s shoulder. "I’m certain Harry thought it was very funny, actually, because it’s true. He always appreciates the humor in a situation."

"I’ve never seen so much blood in my life," Fred whispered.

Ginny took his arm and began guiding him from the room in much the same way her mother had done to Bill and Remus. "Come on, off to bed with you. Harry is going to be okay, and things will look brighter in the morning." They all went to bed; each silently praying that Ginny’s words would come true.

It was three days later when Harry finally regained consciousness. They had all taken turns sitting with him so he wouldn’t be alone when he woke up, and Ginny was grateful that it was her shift when his eyes finally fluttered open. He’d been tossing and turning for several hours, so they suspected he might be close to waking. He was still unnaturally pale, but the wound on his side had finally healed. His depleted magical reserves were, once again, having a hard time letting his body heal. Madam Pomfrey had done nothing for the marks on his neck and face, instead concentrating solely on the more pressing injury along his side. The curse had opened him from his shoulder down to just below his hip, and Madam Pomfrey said there would always be a slight scar. The image of Vernon Dursley’s handprint around Harry’s neck had caused all of them to shudder in impotent fury at various times during their shifts.

Ginny was sitting in a chair next to his bed, holding Harry’s hand, when he once again began tossing his head back and forth, muttering incoherently. He was lying on his side curled up in a ball; he’d slept like that the entire time he’d been at Grimmauld Place.

"Shh, it’s all right, luv. I’m right here; you’re safe. Are you ready to come back to us yet, Harry?" she asked him. She’d been talking to him like this for days, just as she’d done back in the hospital wing before the end of term.

Harry’s eyes fluttered until finally she saw his green orbs gazing back at her in confusion. Ginny’s heart soared, and she leapt off her chair, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Harry, I’m so happy you’re awake. You’ve got to stop doing this to me; it’s getting old."

He licked his dry lips and squinted as his hand began feeling around the bed, as if looking for something. "Where did the dog go?" he croaked.

"Dog? What dog? I think you were dreaming, Harry," she said in confusion. There certainly had been no dog at Grimmauld Place, not for over a year, anyway.

"He was here," Harry said, becoming frantic. He tried to sit up but was unable to do it, his hands still searching for the missing dog.

Ginny became alarmed. She reached over and grabbed his hands to still them. "Harry, calm down. There’s no dog. You’re here at Grimmauld Place; you’ve been unconscious for the past three days. Do you remember how you got here?"

She watched as he furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to grasp what had happened. A brief series of emotions crossed his face as he remembered. His hand instinctively kept searching for the dog, and she wondered if he’d been dreaming of Sirius. He seemed desperate for the comfort for which he would never ask. She edged closer to him, but he curled back into himself, obviously not wanting to be touched.

"Harry," she ventured. "Tell me what you’re thinking."

"The Dursleys are dead," he said. It was a statement, not a question, and said in a flat, lifeless tone.

"Yes, they are. I’m sorry, Harry."

He didn’t move, and his expression never changed; he lay there stiffly, and his eyes seemed very far away. "I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve argued more with him about leaving."

Ginny swallowed. "It’s not your fault, Harry. You didn’t do any of this."

"How can you say that?" he said, rounding on her. "They’re Muggles, Muggles who wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world. Their importance on Voldemort’s hit list was directly tied to me. There are a lot of other people, wizards and Muggles alike, who would have been higher on the list if it weren’t for their connection to me."

He was furious, and his outburst winded him. She struggled with her own irritation; she wanted to shake him by the shoulders and make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, but he wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say. She fought to control her temper by digging her nails into the flesh of her thigh. Gritting her teeth and desperate to change the subject, she said, "Dobby is okay; he’s been helping Mum downstairs."

"Hedwig?" Harry asked in alarm, and she shut her eyes in dread. She’d hoped to avoid that subject a while longer.

"She’s most likely fine, luv."

Harry’s breathing became labored again as he tried to rise from the bed. "What do you mean? Where is she?"

Ginny pushed him back down and took his hand in her own. Gently, she began rubbing his cold hands in her own. "We haven’t seen her since the attack, but she wasn’t in the house when the Order went through. She’ll be back; she’s probably off hunting."

Harry stopped struggling, but he wouldn’t open his eyes. "Is Remus here?" he asked in a very strangled voice.

"He’s been sitting with you the whole time, Harry. But he isn’t here now; it’s a full moon. He’ll be back tomorrow, and you can see him." Ginny watched as he bit his lip, despair seeming to cross his entire face. She was at a loss on how to help him and began to feel slightly useless.

"I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn’t love them. I don’t know if I even care that they’re gone. What kind of person doesn’t feel anything when all their last blood relatives are killed?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed and his body huddled towards the wall and away from her.

Ginny climbed onto the bed with him, lying alongside him and wrapping her arms around his stiff shoulders. He didn’t respond at all. "It makes you human, Harry. They weren’t very nice to you; they were downright cruel, actually. I wouldn’t expect that you’d feel any profound sense of loss."

"But…they were what I had…I should care. How does that make me any different?" His voice was so low she had to struggle to hear it.

"Harry, they locked you in a cupboard when you were a baby; it would be extremely unusual if they were your favorite people. It’s the fact that you’re even concerned about it that shows how different you are. Tom killed his family with his own wand, and I highly doubt there was even a moment of regret," Ginny said fiercely, her eyes flashing with her determination. She wasn’t about to let him slip down this road again.

"I’m tired, Ginny, and I think I’d like to be alone for a while," he said in a weary voice, edging closer to the wall and further away from her. "Do you mind giving me a little time to think?"

"Yes, Harry, I do mind," she said, startling him. He turned his head to look at her with wide eyes. "I’ll be quiet and give you all the rest and silence you need, but I’m not leaving you alone. You’ve been alone too much already, and I haven’t seen that it’s done you any good. I’m not going away; I’ll just sit here and be quiet…and you know how difficult that can be for me."

He continued to blink like an owl, as if he didn’t know what to say. She settled herself in and shut her eyes still holding him tightly. He remained very stiff and unmoving for quite some time. Eventually, she felt his body relax and soon he was breathing deeply, asleep again. It was only once he was asleep that he curled his body towards her, seeking her warmth. She lay with him for quite some time, offering what comfort she could, before untangling herself and kissing him on the head. She went downstairs to let the others know he’d regained consciousness. She had the unsettling feeling that this was going to be a long recovery.

When Harry awoke again, the room was very dim, and he didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping. Ginny was gone, but he could hear Ron’s snores coming from the other bed across the room. As he lay there, his mind drifted back to Privet Drive and all that had happened. He thought he’d just finally made a connection with Dudley, but that was never going to be. Neither can live while the other survives…

He should have known to be suspicious whenever anything seemed to be working out for the better by now. He’d been sickened when the jet of deathly green light had struck Uncle Vernon, but had felt no great sense of loss.

It had been different when it happened to Aunt Petunia. She was his mother’s sister – his mother, who sang him lullabies, and smiled when she danced, and had died to save him. Aunt Petunia was her sister. It wasn’t like there was any love between he and his aunt, but, still, she was the last little bit of his mother he had, and now he’d lost that, too. Not only lost it, but it was entirely his fault…again. He felt like he’d killed the last little bit of her that had managed to survive.

Harry’s chest constricted tightly, and he wished Remus were here. He didn’t even know what he expected him to say, but he had known Harry’s mother, and he was the only way Harry could feel that connection. And he really wanted it right now…wanted to know somehow, that she wouldn’t think it was his fault.

Ginny said it wasn’t, but he couldn’t help the huge stone of guilt that was pressing on his heart. This had to end. The Dursleys weren’t a threat to Voldemort; killing them was so unnecessary. He had to talk to Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore had always insisted he had to go back, that he was safe there. Nothing felt particularly safe at the moment. Harry felt the need to do something. If the Headmaster would give his permission for Harry to start practicing his magic again, he wanted to step up his training. He’d used some magic on Privet Drive, and some of it had worked – that had to be an improvement. He needed to step up the pace and end this thing with Voldemort, once and for all. Too many lives had been sacrificed already, and Harry wasn’t willing to let any of the people he had left be next. That wasn’t going to happen.

The next few days passed in a blur for Harry. Everyone was in and out, offering condolences and wishes for a speedy recovery. He wanted them all to disappear. He never knew what to say when they told him they were sorry about the Dursleys. He knew they weren’t. He wasn’t even certain he was. He and Dudley had made a few steps, but not enough even to call it a relationship. He still wasn’t positive that Dudley hadn’t been setting him up. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Still…he couldn’t help but wonder, and he supposed he always would.

He felt like everyone in the house was watching him, and it made him extremely self-conscious. He didn’t know what they expected from him. He’d never wanted the Dursleys to die; he’d just wanted to live away from them. He didn’t know what kind of person he was that he didn’t feel anything but guilt over their deaths. Certainly, he should feel some regret; he’d been with them since before he could remember. He hated that everyone was watching him while he figured it all out. Although he tried to nod and pretend he was listening to everyone, his smile was forced, and he was aware that they all knew it.

Remus came by the day after the full moon, looking tired and drawn, but delighted to see that Harry was awake. He, too, told Harry that it wasn’t his fault, and that Lily was smart enough to know exactly whom to blame. He also gently reminded Harry that a little bit of Lily did still go on – in him. This made him feel a little better, but not much. He was so angry, and he didn’t know where to direct it.

Somehow, Remus always seemed to be able to look inside and know exactly what Harry was feeling. He suspected that Remus might have some natural Legilimency skills of his own. Harry enjoyed spending time with him, and at least a little bit of the anger and confusion he was feeling seemed to evaporate when he was with Remus. He’d made certain that Harry got a Dreamless Sleep Potion every few days, as well.

Ron hadn’t said anything about Harry’s nightmares, but Harry had been up enough during the early morning hours to know that Ron was having his own sleeping issues. He rarely went to bed before three and tossed and turned when he finally did. Harry had been leaving an Everlasting Candle burning each night when he retired, and it was always still lit in the morning. He’d wondered if Remus had talked to Ron about Harry’s problem, but was too embarrassed to ask. It could just be that Ron was oblivious when he finally stumbled to bed. Either way, Harry was grateful that he hadn’t made an issue of Harry’s wanting the light.

Every day, since shortly after he awoke he’d be up and walking around, although his side ached painfully when he did. Madam Pomfrey had nixed his idea of practicing any magic until September, saying that he was back to square one in his recovery. This worried Harry greatly, as it meant Voldemort was now better off than he was. Technically, Harry would be seventeen at the end of the month and legally able to use his magic, but Madam Pomfrey insisted he had to wait until September.

He didn’t know where he’d be spending the rest of the summer. Dumbledore had sent him a message that he was working on a safe house; he didn’t trust the security of Grimmauld Place, now that the blood protection was null and void. He was slightly alarmed by the letter, but Mrs. Weasley assured him that wherever he was going, the rest of the Weasleys were going, as well. That made him feel a little better, although he wished Dumbledore would just give him a straight answer. He could sense that Mrs. Weasley didn’t appear very happy with the headmaster, either.

He’d spent much of his time while at Grimmauld Place observing Ron. Harry couldn’t do much, since he hadn’t completely recovered physically. He mostly sat in the drawing room with whoever was at Headquarters at the time. Ron and Ginny kept him company, and Harry had immediately noticed what Ginny was talking about regarding Ron. He lost his temper frequently, which was normal for Ron, but there was more of a snide, biting edge to his comments that was very unlike him.

He took most of his aggression out on Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and his brothers, although Harry had started receiving his fair share of it, as well. Only Mr. Weasley seemed to escape the brunt of it. Harry had watched Mr. Weasley play chess with Ron each night and noticed how he tried calmly and very innocently to turn the conversation towards Ron’s anger. Harry had felt a bit envious of the relationship he saw between father and son, but kept scolding himself for it. It wasn’t that he was unhappy Ron had that, it was just he wished for a bit of it, too. It made him wonder what his own relationship with his father would have been like if he had lived.

Harry often found himself dozing off on the couch, and he suspected Mrs. Weasley had left strict orders not to disturb him if he did. He woke up one evening to find his head lying in Ginny’s lap while she calmly read a book. Mr. Weasley and Ron played chess, and the twins worked on some papers all in the same room. He knew none of them had been there when he fell asleep, and his head certainly hadn’t been resting on Ginny’s lap. He was mortified it had been there with them all watching. Ginny just laughed at his embarrassment, while the twins waggled their eyebrows, and Mr. Weasley smiled an odd, knowing smile. Ron ignored the whole thing.

Harry was again propped up in the drawing room; Ginny had gone upstairs to do some homework. He knew he should be doing his, as well – he had a stack of it – but lacked the energy. Ron entered the room and plopped down beside him.

"Finally decided to wake up again?" he asked, and Harry thought his voice sounded rather grumpy.

"Sorry if that bothers you," he said sarcastically.

"What?" Ron asked, his brow knitted in confusion. "No, oi, sorry, Harry. I don’t mean to take it out on you. There is an Order meeting going on downstairs, and they completely shut me out – big surprise. Before the door shut, I heard them say something about the Malfoys."

"Malfoys? Well, they must mean Narcissa. What’s she up to now?" Harry asked, sitting up straighter.

"Dunno. They cast an Imperceptible Charm before I heard any more. Somehow, I don’t think it was Narcissa they were talking about, though. Although I suppose it has to be, she’s the only one left. Tonks and I saw to that."

Harry jerked his head to look into Ron’s eyes. Ron hadn’t brought this up with him since he’d been at Grimmauld Place, and Harry was startled that he was doing it now. "Ron, it was a duel…there are always risks."

Ron’s lips thinned much the same way as Bill’s did when he was angry. "I know that; it doesn’t change anything."

"Look…um…I can’t say that I know how you feel – and I won’t, because it drives me batty when people who have no idea what I’m feeling say that to me. But I do know the feeling that the whole world is crashing around you and being unable to do anything to stop it. It makes you feel so…powerless…it’s not good," Harry said, searching for the right words.

Ron was staring at him with wide, stunned eyes. "Yeah," he whispered in a strange, strangled kind of voice.

Before he could say another word, Ginny came in, wearing a huge smile. She was obviously pleased to find them both here. "Harry, you’re awake. I came down a little while ago, but you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you. I had to do an essay for Snape instead," she said, grimacing in distaste.

"I’ve got to finish a letter to Hermione," Ron said, standing up. "She’s worried about you, mate; you should write her."

Harry lowered his head in shame. He hadn’t written to Hermione since he’d awoken. "Yeah. Tell her I’m okay, and I’ll write. When will she be here?"

"Dunno. As soon as she’s back from her trip, I suppose. She can’t say directly in a letter. I know she wanted to cut it short when you got hurt, but Dumbledore wouldn’t let her. Just as well. She needed to spend some time with her parents."

Harry nodded absently as Ron left the room. Ginny was rubbing his neck and working out some of the tension there. It felt wonderful, and he found himself relaxing and letting her fingers work their magic. Where did she learn to do this? It felt amazing. He really hadn’t been fair to Ginny these past few days. She was only trying to help him; he’d have to make that up to her.

"That feels good, Ginny," he said, gasping as she reached a tough knot.

"Sorry," Ginny said quickly, softening her touch. "Madam Pomfrey lent me a book, and it showed how to do this."

"It feels very nice." It didn’t take long for Harry to feel completely relaxed. He shut his eyes and let his head roll to his chest while Ginny worked.

"Harry," she said, "did your uncle throw you out the night Privet Drive was attacked?"

Harry started in surprise at the unexpected question. She continued her soothing massage until he relaxed again. He really didn’t want her to stop, and he’d just decided that he owed her, so he answered truthfully. "Yeah. He found me in Dudley’s room with the Firebolt."

"The Firebolt? What on earth where you doing?"

"Dudley asked me a question about Quidditch. We just got to talking. He finally got a date with Veronica…I wonder if anyone told her?" Harry said in sudden concern.

"I’m certain she knows," Ginny said soothingly. "So, your uncle found you in there?"

"Yeah…er, he was rather cross about it."

"Is that when he hit you?" she asked bluntly.

Harry hesitated for a minute, but found he suddenly did want to talk to her about this, but only her. He peered around to make certain no one was listening at the door. "Actually, he shouted a lot first and sent Dudley downstairs. I should have ducked like I always did, but he caught me off guard. I crashed into the desk and broke Dudley’s computer. Dudley would have been angry about that…er, never mind. Uncle Vernon said to get out, and I didn’t really know what I should do. I was going to go to Mrs. Figg’s and see if Dumbledore could fix things with Aunt Petunia again, but I never made it there." Harry shuddered, thinking about what had happened after that, and Ginny continued to gently knead the knots in his neck.

"Did he do that a lot?" she whispered.

"What, throw me out? He only tried one other time – the night the Dementors came."

"No. You said you usually ducked," she prompted.

Harry was getting uncomfortable again, but Remus’s words about talking about things rang in his mind. Remus had been trying to get him to talk for days. He sighed and forced himself to continue. "Not so much, anymore…a lot when I was younger. I…er…was always pretty fast and could get away. He, um, usually didn’t chase me."

Ginny was very quiet for several minutes and didn’t ask any more questions. Harry remained still, enjoying the continued pressure on his neck. After a while, he turned to face Ginny and was startled to find tears streaking her face. "I’m so sorry, Harry," she whispered brokenly before beginning to sob openly.

"Ginny," he said, stunned. He reached around and pulled her onto the couch with him, wrapping her in his arms and letting her cry on his shoulder.

"I hate the way…sniff…the way you talk about it so calmly…sniff. I hate that you seem to think it’s acceptable," she cried.

Harry was at a loss for what to say. He just kept stroking her hair, loving the luxurious feel of it between his fingers. "Don’t cry, Ginny. Everything is okay; it’s over now."

"It never should have been that way. I hate that we all celebrated the victory of the Boy-Who-Lived, and no one ever knew what really became of you. I hate that," Ginny spat.

Harry felt his heart warm slightly by her words. He’d been feeling so numb and distant from everyone, but Ginny’s blatant concern for him touched him deeply. She loved him, and all was not lost. He snuggled into her neck and began trailing kisses beneath her ear when the sound of a throat clearing in the doorway startled them both.

He and Ginny sprang apart, and Harry nearly went sprawling off the couch and onto the floor when he saw Professor Dumbledore standing there with his eyes twinkling.

"Good evening, Harry, Miss Weasley," he said, nodding to each of them. "I am sorry to interrupt. Although I fear my presence will not be nearly as pleasant a distraction as yours, Miss Weasley, I need to take up a few moments of Harry’s time."

Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair, gave Harry an apologetic smile, and nearly sprinted from the room without a word to Professor Dumbledore.

Coward. Harry turned towards Professor Dumbledore, his stomach clenching. Somehow, he didn’t think the Headmaster was going to say anything he particularly wanted to hear. He’d much rather spend the time doing what he was doing with Ginny, but he didn’t see a choice in the matter.

"Hello, Professor. D’you want to sit down?"

Chapter Seven: Political Maneuvering

Professor Dumbledore entered the drawing room and took the offered seat next to Harry on the couch. Harry tensed and edged away slightly; he didn’t think he wanted to hear whatever Professor Dumbledore was going to say. He was having a hard enough time controlling all the emotions stirring within him without adding to them.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" the headmaster asked softly, his voice sounding raw and scratchy to Harry’s ears.

"I’m fine, sir," Harry said, keeping his gaze planted firmly ahead and refusing to look at him.

He felt, rather than saw, one of Professor Dumbledore’s piercing stares trying to look right through him, causing him to shift uncomfortably. "I understand that Slicing Curse did a fair bit of damage."

Harry shrugged. "Aside from the Cruciatus, that’s one of Bellatrix Lestrange’s favorites," he said, shuddering at the memories from a cold, dark cell. Bellatrix Lestrange had been a frequent tormentor…she and Lucius Malfoy. His chest constricted, and his breathing became labored, as Lucius’s sneer rang in his head. ‘You’ll be begging for the release of death when I’m through with you’. Don’t think about that.

Professor Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on Harry’s trembling arm, but Harry cringed at the contact. "I am truly sorry about everything that happened on Privet Drive, Harry. I wish we could have arrived in time to save the Dursleys. " Harry glanced up briefly; Professor Dumbledore looked old and rather frail. He’d been looking older and older over the past year, but now he looked positively ancient. For some reason, it angered Harry to see him this way. Dumbledore was supposed to be strong; he was supposed to have the answers even if he wouldn’t always share them. It was his fault Harry had been stuck with the Dursleys so long; he wanted to rant and rail and not feel at all sympathetic.

"Why didn’t you?" The angry words burst from Harry’s raw throat, his anger rising to the surface like a great bubble. He pulled his arm away and scooted further up the couch. "I thought it was supposed to be safe. I thought that’s why I always had to be trapped there every year. What good did it do? The Order was supposed to be on guard – where were they? Why couldn’t they even save Dudley? They had arrived by the time he was killed! Why?" Harry’s voice hitched. He was panting, not even certain from where this outburst was coming. He could feel traitorous wetness on his face, and he swiped furiously at it. He knew it wasn’t Professor Dumbledore’s fault, but he desperately wanted someone to blame, and Dumbledore was there. "Hogwarts is safe, Harry," he continued, hating the whine in voice but unable to stop it. "Privet Drive is safe, Harry. Grimmauld Place is safe, Harry. NONE OF THOSE PLACES WERE SAFE. What difference did any of it make?"

Professor Dumbledore kept his eyes cast downward, allowing Harry to continue his rant until he was spent. Harry could have sworn he saw the headmaster cringe at his furious words. Feeling defeated and weary, he shut his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch, breathing heavily. I’m so very tired of this.

"I can understand your frustration, Harry and concede that nowhere is completely safe for you. We have added precautions in some spots, but that is the best we can do. Until this is over, you are a high risk target and always will be," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice filled with regret.

Harry sucked in his breath, the words ringing in his ears. Instead of the steady reassurances that he was safe, someone had finally acknowledged it out loud – nowhere would ever be safe for him until this battle was over, one way or another.

"I need you to teach me; I need you to complete my training," Harry replied, keeping his voice very low and trying to control the tremble. "I want to end this; I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want…more." He opened his eyes and glanced briefly at a spot in the doorway where Ginny had disappeared before turning his tired eyes to see Dumbledore’s response.

"And I want more for you, Harry…so much more. I have made many decisions in my lifetime that I have come to regret, but none more than my decision on where to place you after your parents’ deaths. At the time, it seemed the best solution. Once the course was set, there was no turning back, and I only had to move forward from there. Even knowing this does not make the decision, or consequences, any less bitter to swallow. It was never my intent to hurt you, Harry, nor see any harm come to you.

Harry nodded and tried to swallow the bludger-sized lump in his throat. "She…she said that I let them do it," Harry whispered brokenly, fighting to hold his composure.

"And you know in your heart that this is untrue. Miss Tonks informs me that she had to petrify you to keep you from running back, despite the fact that you were unable to perform any magic. It was a horrific event for all of you, Harry, but don’t let her words, spoken in the heat of the conflict, overshadow what you know to be true. You know this isn’t your fault; none of this has ever been your fault."

Harry shut his eyes tightly and gave the briefest of nods.

"Very well. I have a plan to step up your training. You are nearly ready now. We will begin with the physical training and add the magical when your resources are stronger. Bill, Emmeline, and Jacqueline are deciphering the texts as fast as they are able. I am certain the answer we seek rests in those books. Despite your grievous injuries last term, you managed to hurt Voldemort – really hurt him. That is more than anyone else has ever managed to do, and it alarmed him greatly. You have the power, Harry, and the strength comes from your love for those who surround you. He does not have that and never will."

Harry’s mind traveled back to that last confrontation with Voldemort and the memories he had used against him. "You think my power comes from my feelings for Ginny?" he asked, his pale cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled brightly behind his spectacles for the first time since entering the room. "I think your power comes from the feeling you have for all those you hold dear. I do believe Ginny has a very important role in it. Romantic love is different from the love of family and friends, although they are equally important. She is one half of your whole; she gives you strength when you need it most. I am always very mindful never to underestimate that strong bond. Therefore, I want to include Miss Weasley and your other friends in my plans for your training."

Harry watched Dumbledore closely, surprised that he was conceding so readily. "When do we begin?"

"I have a plan that is almost in place. I do not want to give you, or anyone else, the details until everything is ready. There are several other matters we need to discuss in the meantime," Dumbledore said, his eyes losing their twinkle.

"Such as?" Harry asked.

"There was a funeral for the Dursleys while you were still unconscious. We saw to it that the appropriate Memory Charms were administered so that no one will recall your presence at the house this summer. The Muggle Authorities had wanted to speak with you; however, we think we have sidetracked them from that endeavor. They believe the attack was a random act of violence, although they are at a loss to explain the cause of death," Dumbledore said, watching Harry closely.

Harry’s mind had gone numb after the word funeral. "A f-funeral. Who was there?" he asked, morbidly curious.

Professor Dumbledore again rested his hand on Harry’s arm, but Harry was only vaguely aware it was there this time. A tight pressure was building within his chest, and he wished Dumbledore would stop talking. He didn’t want to think about this. "Your Aunt Marge took care of the arrangements, as well as overseeing the dispersal of household goods."

Harry nodded. "There was nothing there of mine. I’m certain Aunt Marge didn’t want me anywhere near the funeral, anyway." His voice sounded strangled even to his own ears.

A pained expression crossed Dumbledore’s features before he covered it, and his neutral concern returned. "She has suffered a great shock; she was grieving, as well, Harry."

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. He appreciated the effort his headmaster was making to spare his feelings, but he was reasonably certain he knew how that conversation would have gone. "Is there anything else, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "There is one more matter I would like to address. I am not certain if you are aware that an owl arrived at Arabella’s regarding your use of underage magic on the night of the attack."

Harry’s eyes flew open wide; no one had told him about that. His heart clenched; this was the third time he’d been warned. Would they try to throw him out of Hogwarts again? Did he have to go to another trial?

"Nothing to fear," Dumbledore said, perhaps sensing his panic. "Arthur Weasley went directly to the Ministry and straightened everything out. However, Cornelius Fudge has requested an audience with you to discuss the events that occurred that night. I have tried to circumvent it, but he is insistent. If you feel up to it, it might be the quickest way to put the matter to rest. I fear Cornelius is trying to show that he is, in fact, doing something and will no doubt inform the press of your meeting."

Harry really didn’t want to talk about that night, but he didn’t want to put any more pressure on Dumbledore, either. He planned on telling Fudge in no uncertain terms that he would not be receiving Harry’s support in his bid to keep the position of Minister of Magic. "Okay, I’ll do it."

"I will arrange it, then. Is there anyone you would like to accompany you, aside from Arthur and myself?"

"Can Remus come, too?"

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling. "I believe Cornelius will want this to be done quickly, probably in the next day or two. I will be in touch. Right now, I believe Molly Weasley has been waiting impatiently to speak with me."

Professor Dumbledore grimaced, and Harry had to suppress a grin – even Professor Dumbledore dreaded being on the receiving end of Mrs. Weasley’s temper, Harry watched him leave and sank back down on the couch. It was always one thing after the other. For neither can live while the other survives.

The meeting with the Ministry was scheduled for two days later. Harry spent those two days thinking about what he’d like to say, his fury growing by leaps and bounds. This was an outlet for all the pent-up aggression he’d been experiencing all summer, and he planned to let it all loose on Fudge and his Ministry. It wasn’t until that morning, when he was sitting at the breakfast table with Remus and Mr. Weasley, that a bit of his nervousness returned. He’d woken up feeling better physically than he had in a long time; it was his nerves that were finally catching up with him.

His stomach was doing flip-flops at the thought of what kind of questions they were going to ask. If they already knew the story about how the Dursleys had been murdered, what would they ask him? Would they make him recount the whole thing? Would they ask how he felt about them? Harry shuddered at the thought. He didn’t want to talk about this. He began to wish he’d never agreed to it.

He kept raising his toast to his lips, but couldn’t force himself to take a bite. He felt certain he would heave if he even tried. "How are we getting there?" he asked Mr. Weasley, who was sitting across from him, eating a plate of eggs and bacon.

"The Minister provided a special portkey; it will take us directly to his office. Professor Dumbledore has it; he should be arriving shortly," Mr. Weasley said, smiling at Harry in encouragement. "Chin up, son; this is going to go just fine."

Harry nodded absently, considering Mr. Weasley’s words. The portkey was good; he wouldn’t have to walk through the lobby and meet all the questioning stares. He suddenly felt very drained, as if all his energy was being sucked from him with a straw. He could feel the start of a tension headache throbbing in his temples.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Remus asked, looking at his pallor in concern. "Professor Dumbledore, Arthur, and I will be with you the whole time. I highly doubt this will even be a formal questioning, just more political posturing on Fudge’s part than anything else. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there is a full press conference awaiting your arrival."

Harry started and looked up at Remus in alarm, the clenching in his stomach becoming painful. Press? He hadn’t even considered that. Was he going to have to answer questions to the press? His luck with them hadn’t been all that good in the past. Just the one interview Hermione had arranged had done some good, and that was arranged through blackmail. "D- D’you think the press will really be there?"

Remus winced in sympathy. "One step at a time, Harry; we’ll just take one step at a time. If they are, a simple ‘no comment’ should suffice, and we’ll move past them quickly. First thing is to get Fudge off our backs. By agreeing to this interview, we’ve given him what he wanted; hopefully, he’ll return the favor."

Harry nodded resolutely. He’d given his word, and he was determined to go through with it. He could do this. No sense in letting his confidence be shaken now. He’d dealt with Fudge before; he knew what to expect. He was feeling healthy, he’d put on some of his new clothes, and he was ready.

The front door opened, and a moment later both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape entered the kitchen. Harry hadn’t seen Snape since the Leaving Feast last term, but he remembered Remus’s words about Snape being in hot water from suspicion about his involvement in Harry’s escape. Harry’s stomach clenched with guilt, and he met the Potion Master’s eyes. He was surprised to see the anger burning there. He and Snape had come to some kind of guarded agreement at the end of term, or so he’d thought. Maybe he’d imagined it.

"Good morning," Dumbledore said. "I see we are all ready to go. Severus, I shall be returning as soon as possible, and we can continue on our way."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said, glaring at Harry.

"Professor Snape," Harry nodded, not about to take any of the man’s rubbish. He was too on edge already today to put up with him.

"Potter," Snape snarled. "Do try and follow orders today, although I know how difficult that simple instruction seems to be for you. Try not to cause any more damage than you already have."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, narrowing his eyes in warning.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, feeling his temper rise.

"At the end of term, both you and the Dark Lord were in the same position, each weakened considerably. You were both told that in order to recover, you had to conserve your magical energy. The Dark Lord hid his weakness by issuing orders and not revealing himself. You, on the other hand, used underage magic and depleted your resources again. The Dark Lord is nearly at full strength, and you are back to the start of your recovery. Foolish boy, you never think."

Harry was livid. He jumped to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. "Exactly what was I supposed to do? Stand there and do nothing while they killed them?" he demanded. He was startled to realize that his angry professor wasn’t towering over him as much as he usually did, when did that happen? He didn’t feel any taller when he looked at himself in the mirror.

"It seems to me that wasting your magical energy and ruining your recovery didn’t make a difference, anyway," Snape said silkily, brushing a non-existent piece of lint from his robes.

Harry paled visibly, and Remus grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "That’s enough, Severus. That was uncalled for. No one could have expected Harry to stand by and watch what happened without even trying to stop them."

"Severus, you can wait for me in the drawing room," Dumbledore said, frowning at Professor Snape. Snape turned on his heel and left the kitchen without another word to anyone. Professor Dumbledore turned to the others. "We need to get moving. Just put a finger on the portkey."

In an instant, they were transported to the finely furnished waiting room of the Minister of Magic. Several flashbulbs burst in Harry’s eyes, causing him to step back in alarm. He was still rattled from the encounter with Snape, and the feeling of being trapped began to overwhelm him. His eyes started darting to and fro as he sought an escape route from the crowded room. There were too many people in here; he couldn’t breathe.

The reporters rapidly fired questions, while Remus and Mr. Weasley tried to shield him on either side and usher him into Fudge’s office.

"Mr. Potter, can you tell us what happened the night your relatives were attacked?"

"Were you in the house at the time, Mr. Potter?"

"How did you feel when you first saw your relatives being struck down?"

"Tell us about your relationship with your cousin, Harry; we know so little about your Muggle relations."

"Was You-Know-Who there? How did you react when you saw him?"

Harry’s heart beat in a furious rhythm, as if determined to thump out of his chest. He didn’t want to be here; he didn’t want to do this. Why had he ever agreed to this? Professor Dumbledore firmly closed the door on the reporters, ceasing their questions. Harry leaned on the back of a chair and tried to collect himself, while Remus waited patiently by his side. "All right, Harry?" he finally asked.

Harry nodded. "I’m fine."

"Hello, Harry," Cornelius Fudge said from across the room. His tone was condescending and sickly sweet. "Please come in and have a seat; this should only take a moment."

Harry turned to see him sitting behind his desk; a number of chairs had been placed in a row in front, as if looking up at a judge’s bench. Percy Weasley stood to the Minister’s left, while two bodyguards, or Aurors, or whatever they were, stood behind him. Harry was incensed to see Percy avoiding his own father’s eyes. Mr. Weasley stared ahead, unblinking, but Harry could see the pain in his eyes.

Harry took a seat at the very end, as far away from Fudge as he could get. Remus and Mr. Weasley took the chairs in the middle while Professor Dumbledore transfigured his seat into a squishy purple armchair, complete with a cupholder containing a butterbeer. Harry hid his smirk, cheering for Dumbledore in his head.

"The Minister has asked you here today—" Percy began in a pompous fashion.

"What can Harry do for you, Minister Fudge?" Remus interrupted, keeping his voice polite but dismissing Percy altogether. Harry was grateful to him for taking the lead.

Fudge looked down his nose at Remus. "Lupin, isn’t it? Exactly what is your status in regards to the minor? I wasn’t aware that you would be here."

"Harry’s father and I were dear friends. I’m watching out for his interests in his father’s place," Remus answered mildly, a pleasant smile on his face despite his clenched jaw.

"Dangerous magical creatures are not permitted to have legal guardianship over a minor," Fudge said disdainfully, looking down his nose at Remus.

"He’s my friend, and I asked him to be here," Harry snapped.

Fudge turned to Harry with a condescending smile. "Now, Harry, you’re still too young and sheltered to fully appreciate all the nuances of our world. I’m here to help guide you. The question at hand is your importance to the wizarding world. We can’t afford to have any harm come to you now, can we?"

A chill ran down Harry’s spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He noticed both Remus and Mr. Weasley start and look more attentive, as well. Percy stood up straighter, glaring imperiously down his nose at the gathering. Only Dumbledore appeared unruffled, his calm yet icy blue eyes piercing into the Minister, who squirmed under the intense gaze.

"Cornelius, I was under the impression we were here to discuss the situation involving Harry’s relatives," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling benignly although Harry saw the alertness in his eyes.

"Yes…well." Fudge fumbled momentarily. "It all ties in together now, doesn’t it? An interesting detail has come to my attention, one that you have failed to mention to me, Albus. It concerns a prophecy made some time ago, relating to the destruction of the Dark Lord."

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as an icy tendril of fear wrapped around his heart. He knows about the prophecy – he knows. How? Who told him? Is he a Death Eater? Did Voldemort tell him? His heart beat so fast he couldn’t get the words to form. His headache began pounding with renewed intensity and suddenly the scar along his side seemed to pinch and sear painfully.

"What are you getting at, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked, his voice radiating that raw power Harry had witnessed on several occasions.

"Obviously, this prophecy is the answer to all our problems. Now that Harry is a ward of the Ministry, I shall take it upon myself to see that he is prepared, and we can arrange a dual to end this thing as quickly as possible," Fudge stated pompously.

Harry was incredulous; did he honestly think it would be as simple as that? Here you go, Harry – kill him for me, please?

Remus was on his feet in an instant. "Ward of the Ministry? What is this all about?"

"You can’t be serious, Minister." Mr. Weasley had also stood up to loudly voice his opposition.

"Sit down," Percy said. "Kindly retake your seats and control your tempers, or I shall be forced to remove you from the premises."

Fudge was obviously taken aback. "I most certainly am serious." His tone and manner dismissed Remus and Mr. Weasley as quickly as he addressed them. He never spared Harry so much as a glance. Turning back to Dumbledore, he said, "Harry is not yet seventeen; therefore, the Ministry will take control of his guardianship. Even when he does reach adulthood, the Statute on the Continued Prosperity of the Wizarding World clearly allows for the subject of a critical prophecy concerning the well-being of others to be detained until he fulfills the requirements. I intend to see this thing finished, once and for all. I will be taking Harry into Ministry custody."

"And what if in your haste to be ‘done with this’, you get Harry killed? Exactly how are your precious voters going to take that?" Mr. Weasley demanded angrily. Harry had never seen Mr. Weasley lose his temper, and it momentarily stunned him from his panic. For the first time, he could see how Mr. Weasley could be the head of a house full of unruly boys and still keep the peace.

"I plan to have the finest Ministry Hit Wizards training him. The boy allowed the Death Eaters to storm in and kill his family; obviously, the training you are providing isn’t enough. I want this all dealt with quickly and concisely, so we can go on with more important work. I will have an end to this before the summer is out." Fudge’s coloring had turned a beet red, and he puffed out his chest as he spoke.

"Before the call for any elections rises again, you mean? Tell me, how will your voters take it when we inform them that in your haste to see this dealt with, you lost them their only hope?" Remus snapped, losing all traces of his calm demeanor.

Harry had had enough of sitting there while they discussed him as if he were merely a tool. His mind spun at such a dizzying pace that he had to fight to focus on what was being said. He wondered what would happen if he simply stood up and walked away, just disappeared altogether to let them figure this out on their own, without their weapon. Even as the thought occurred to him, he discounted it nearly instantaneously. He could never just abandon them to the fate Voldemort had in store for them. His conscience would never allow it.

He knew the Weasleys and the rest of the Order would continue to resist, and most likely be killed off one by one. No. He wouldn’t abandon them; he wanted more for them, and he wanted more for his own life. He and Ginny had a future ahead of them, and he wanted to be able to enjoy it with her. He would stay and face his destiny. But he wasn’t going to be used, and he wasn’t about to trust his fate to Fudge. He stood up and walked shakily towards the door without saying a word. He held his hand to his aching side, as if trying to hold it from splitting open.

"Where do you think you are going?" Percy snapped, finally noticing his retreat.

"I’m leaving. I’ve heard enough. I will take on Voldemort, and I’ll do my best to win, but on my own terms. I’m not staying here with you, and, unless you plan to hold me in Azkaban, there is nothing you can do to stop me. If you want my cooperation, we’re going to do this my way. I’m done being used as a pawn by all of you." He turned on his heel and walked out smack into all the reporters who had been waiting for him on the other side of the door.

The feeling of being trapped overwhelmed him again. His breathing hitched as his eyes scanned wildly for an escape route. He bolted from the room and sprinted down the hallway, jumping into a lift just as the doors closed behind him, cutting off the frenzied questions from the reporters. Harry panted and leaned against the wall for support. He didn’t know if he wanted to curl up and hide or hit something repeatedly; he just knew he had to get out of here. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.

When the lift stopped, he stepped out into the ornate lobby of the Ministry of Magic. He was assailed with memories and voices from his painful past.

"Blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your foe."

"Bow to death, Harry."

"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy."

"You’ll be begging for the release of death when I’m through with you."

He’d battled with Voldemort here, in this very room. He’d been possessed here. Sirius had died downstairs, in that room with the strange veil. Harry’s heart beat uncontrollably fast as his mind spun with visions of that veil. It would be so easy… so easy simply to walk into that room and stand before that veil. He’d hear those voices calling to him, enticing him…Sirius would be there. It would be over, no more games, plans or schemes…it would be such a release.

Then, the faces of Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Remus, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley swam in his vision. He couldn’t do that to them. They loved him, despite all the turmoil and danger he brought. No matter what the risk, they always stood by him. He couldn’t let them down. No, he wouldn’t be free until this was all over. He couldn’t leave them to face this without a chance, however slim that chance was. He wouldn’t take the coward’s way out. He had to give them a fighting chance.

Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, and Remus caught up to him as he stood in a daze, facing the corridor that would take him to the Department of Mysteries. Remus seemed to sense where his thoughts were, for he laid a gentle, comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.

"I’m sorry, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "I did not see that coming; Minister Fudge gave no indication as to what he was planning. We need to get out of here quickly and put our own plans in place." Lifting a discarded gum wrapper from the floor, he muttered, "Portus."

They all put a finger to the wrapper and found themselves back in the entrance hall at Grimmauld Place. Mr. Weasley bolted for the kitchen, and Dumbledore turned to Harry. "I have made some summer arrangements for you, Harry. The plan was to have you leave in a few days, but the situation with the Ministry forces us to speed up our plans. I would like to have you removed from anywhere the Minister can get his hands on you until after your birthday. I’ve made arrangements with my brother, Aberforth, for you and your friends to spend some time in his holiday home by the sea. It is my understanding you’ve always wished for a seaside holiday, and I hope that you will find some enjoyment there.

"Ms. Granger will be sent for, and you will all be leaving as soon as possible. Please have your things packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Remus, I’m assuming you and Ms. Tonks will be going with Harry, as well?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. I will inform Aberforth of your impending arrival. While you are away, I shall attempt to smooth things over with Cornelius and get him to see reason. Hopefully, with the political pressure I plan to apply, he will have backed down before the start of term."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied numbly. The idea of a seaside holiday had briefly intrigued him before the veil of numbness resettled over his mind. Fudge knew about the prophecy, and, come to think of it, Mr. Weasley never flinched. Does everyone know?

Despite the fact that he’d only had a few bites of toast for breakfast, he felt them sitting just behind his throat and fighting to come up. He bolted up the stairs and threw himself on his bed, trying to restore some sense of order within his mind. He didn’t know how long he lay there before the door opened, and Ginny entered. She sat beside him and gently ran her fingers through his hair. "Dad told us what happened, and Bill mentioned your run-in with Snape this morning. You just haven’t had a very good day, have you? Are you all right, Harry?"

"No," he said, still lying on his stomach with his head resting in the crook of his arm. He bit his lip hard for letting the truth escape, but he couldn’t lie – not to her.

"I’m so sorry, luv. What can I do to help?" Ginny asked, forcing him to turn over and look at her.

The light from the doorway behind her created the illusion that her hair was glowing around her face, making her look almost like an angel. Yet again, she proved to be his beacon from the darkness within his soul. "Promise me something, Ginny."

"Anything, Harry."

"Promise me you won’t die. No matter what, promise me," he pleaded, and the desperate tone of his voice tore at her heart.

She shut her eyes tightly, forcing back the tears. Taking him in her arms and wrapping him firmly in her embrace, she said, "I can’t promise that, Harry. No one can. But I do promise to do my damnedest to outlive you. That’s the best I can offer."

He held her tightly, clutching her to his body. He knew he was asking the impossible from her, yet he was determined nonetheless to see that she remained healthy and whole and a part of his life forever.

"Come on, I’ll help you get packed," Ginny said, squaring her shoulders as if going into battle.

Harry didn’t have the energy to climb off the bed, but he forced himself to stand and immediately swayed on his feet once he did. Ginny caught him before he toppled over.

"Whoa, steady there, luv. You sit back down," she said, patting a spot on his bed, "and I’ll just tidy this up for you. Don’t you dare go getting used to this, Mr. Potter. You’re certainly capable of packing your own things, and I won’t be doing this for you every time. Next time you can pack for me. Goodness knows my mum packed for Bill and Charlie way too long, and now, neither one of them can properly pack a trunk. I think she learned her lesson by the time Ron came along…"

Ginny continued to chatter about her mum, and Harry listened with half an ear. He was so tired; he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He’d actually felt somewhat better this morning, but now…everything just hurt. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt himself drifting. He thought he detected a soft kiss upon his forehead, but he was just too tired to open his eyes…

Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place shortly after dinner that same evening. She’d been enjoying the last days of her summer holiday with her parents when Tonks and Charlie Weasley arrived. They’d told her how the Ministry was trying to interfere with Harry’s guardianship, so that he was going to have to go into hiding for a while. Hermione desperately wanted to be with her friends, so she convinced her parents to let her leave. It was only two days early.

Tonks and Charlie had helped her pack and stayed with her while they got her family settled. Her parents were living under a Fidelius Charm, and she didn’t even know who their Secret Keeper was. Professor Dumbledore felt it was safer that way, but Hermione hated not knowing.

During the course of the day, Hermione had been taken aback by how friendly Tonks and Charlie were. They had an easy rapport with each other and teased one another unmercifully. It was only when she’d had a moment alone with Tonks that the older woman revealed that she and Charlie had been quite friendly while attending Hogwarts together. They’d been seeing each other when Charlie got the offer to go to Romania and work with the dragons. He chose to leave during his seventh year, leaving both Hogwarts and Tonks behind to follow his dreams.

After she learned this, Hermione observed Charlie closely. She knew him least of all of Ron’s brothers, but thought they actually might be the most alike. He watched Tonks when she wasn’t looking, and Hermione wondered if he sometimes regretted his decision to leave.

Hermione bade a tearful good-bye to her parents. It was difficult to leave them again after finally getting to spend some time together. She and her mother had long, quiet talks about the future and what Hermione wanted to do with hers. She couldn’t imagine a future without Ron or Harry in it. She knew they assumed she’d be going to Auror training with them, but she was beginning to realize she wanted a different path. Harry had always wanted to be an Auror, and it was something he certainly seemed to have a knack for doing. Ron wanted to be an Auror, too. Even though he didn’t get into Snape’s Potions class, he hadn’t given up that desire. He planned on sticking with Harry until the end of Voldemort, as did Hermione, and after that happened, Ron didn’t think the Initiation Board would have a problem with the fact that he didn’t take NEWT level Potions.

Hermione thought there were other careers Ron might be better suited for, but had, as yet, held her tongue. For her, the research she had been doing on Old Magic fascinated her. She’d learned so much and felt she was quite good at organizing all the information. Professor McGonagall had given her some pamphlets on a wizard version of a think tank called the Institute. The Institute studied and created new spells, and worked out counter-curses for some of the old ones. Hermione thought she might like to join the Institute, but so far hadn’t mentioned it to anyone but her mother.

Professor Dumbledore arrived to initiate the wards and bring her back to Grimmauld Place. He filled her in on what happened at the Ministry and the plans he’d made for the remainder of the summer. He said that Harry was dealing with too much loss; he was reeling from it and needed a reprieve. Ginny had told him of Harry’s desire to spend some time at the beach, so it had been arranged. Hermione hadn’t known that about Harry, but it seemed to fit him, and she hoped he could relax enough to allow himself to heal.

She’d done a lot of research in the Muggle library since the end of term on post-traumatic stress. She’d been trying to find a way to help Ron and better understand what he was going through. She’d felt stunned and somewhat guilty to realize that Harry’s entire fifth year persona read like an information booklet on the disorder. It saddened her to realize that no one had paid enough attention to how much the events in the graveyard had affected him. It had been another startling revelation to her that the adults in her life didn’t hold all the answers. Hermione didn’t know why she should be surprised; that fact had been in front of her for so long now, but she hadn’t wanted to see it. After everything that had happened with Diana Trent last year…Hermione had been so certain she could trust her, and look what happened.

She shook her head to get away from those troubling thoughts. Harry…she’d been thinking about Harry. He’d seemed to get better for a while last year after revealing the prophecy to them, but after what happened at Malfoy Manor… She’d read that captivity does strange things to a person’s psyche, the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness would overwhelm a victim unexpectedly at seemingly random, unrelated times. She’d been seeing episodes of this with both Ron and Harry, and she was determined to help.

She peeked into the drawing room when she first arrived and saw Harry and Ginny sitting on the couch and talking quietly. Ginny was holding Harry’s hand, and it looked like they were having a rather serious discussion. Harry’s eyes looked so completely lost and forlorn. He was terribly pale, and it made the bruising on his face stand out vividly. Hermione was worried that the Dursley’s deaths would affect him badly. It looked like Ginny had the situation in control, however, and she wanted to see Ron.

She ran up to the room he shared with Harry and found him there, struggling to pack the clutter of stuff piled on his bed into his trunk. He looked good; his hair was longer and curling adorably around his ears. It made her itch to put her fingers in it. She’d missed him, she knew she had, but was surprised by the intensity of it upon seeing him again. Hermione didn’t like being unsure with herself, and it was somehow Ron who always made her feel that way. He’d been distant all summer, his letters lacking any real substance.

She was determined to put things back to rights. They’d waited so long to get together; she wasn’t about to let Malfoy’s death be the thing that tore them apart.

"Bloody Hell," Ron said, kicking at the overstuffed trunk. His bed was still piled high with more stuff that needed to be added to the trunk.

"Here, let me help you with that, Ron," she said, gliding into the room and removing everything he’d already stuffed into the trunk with quick efficiency.

"Hermione!" Ron yelped in obvious pleasure before that infuriating mask of indifference resettled upon his face. "When did you get here, then?"

Hermione turned and briefly pecked him on the cheek. "Hello, Ron. It’s nice to see you, too. My summer was lovely, thank you. How have you been?"

Ron ignored her sarcasm, his ears turning slightly pink. "There is no way all this stuff is going to fit in this trunk. We’re only going to the beach; all I really need are some swim trunks. I don’t know why Mum put all this stuff here."

Hermione continued neatly packing his trunk, organizing it as she went. She felt his eyes upon her, and a warm flush filled her insides. She knew she looked fairly decent; the summer had been good to her. She was deeply tanned, and her hair was streaked with blonde strands from all her time in the sun. She was looking forward to swimming in the ocean with Ron; it should be a great trip. She was also very eager to meet Professor Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth. It was a great honor for her to be staying with him, and she hoped his home would have a decent library.

"There," she said, closing the trunk with a snap. "All set, and everything fits. Do you know when we’re leaving?"

Ron stared at the trunk and his bed, now devoid of all clothing. "You truly are amazing," he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her hard.

Hermione flushed with pleasure at his words and returned the kiss with delight.

"Hem, hem," came a coughing voice from the doorway. Ron and Hermione pulled apart to see Mrs. Weasley standing there with her hands on her hips. "Hello, Hermione, dear. I’m so happy you could make it. Ron, I see Hermione helped you with your trunk. I don’t know what he’d do without you, Hermione. Professor Dumbledore called and said he didn’t think it was safe to travel at night, so we’ll be off bright and early tomorrow morning. I want you all to get a good night’s sleep."

She bustled off down the hall, and Ron watched her go with a scowl. "No doubt she’ll enjoy getting us up at the crack of dawn, as well," he grumbled.

Hermione smiled; Ron never had been an early riser. "I saw Harry and Ginny downstairs. Want to go say hello with me?"

"Okay. Harry’s not doing so good; he’s even snapping at Ginny."

"He’s been through too much. I think this time away will be good for him. Have you ever been to the sea?" she asked.

"Yeah. When we were kids my grandparents lived on the coast. I haven’t been since before I started Hogwarts, though."

"We’ve never all had a real holiday together before; this should be fun."

Chapter Eight: A Much Needed Break

Her mother shaking her shoulder none-too-gently awoke Ginny the next morning. She forced her eyes open and found her mother already dressed and lighting the candles in the room. It was still dark outside; it had to be very early, and her mum seemed to be in a wretchedly chipper mood.

"Oi, Mum, what time is it?" she asked, pulling the pillow over her head.

Her mum shook Hermione awake. "Come on, ladies, get up. We have a timed portkey, so if you want some breakfast, you’re going to have to move. Get up, get dressed and get your stuff downstairs; we’re leaving in an hour."

After her mother left the room, Ginny could hear her across the hall, trying to rouse Ron and Harry. Hermione dragged herself out of bed; her hair looked even bushier than it normally did, after a night of tossing and turning. "Do you want the shower first, or should I?" Hermione asked.

"You go ahead; I’ll push our trunks into the hall," Ginny answered.

She and Hermione had stayed up way too late talking into the early morning hours. Hermione was worried about both Ron and Harry; she and Ron had already had a blazing row that woke all the portraits in Grimmauld Place. Neither of the boys would admit they were having a problem if their lives depended on it. Hermione was livid over Fudge’s threats to detain Harry and take him into Ministry custody. After the row with Ron, she’d spent several hours in the library, researching both wizarding guardianship issues and the Statute on the Continued Prosperity of the Wizarding World. Unfortunately, as of last night, she’d found nothing to dispute Fudge’s claims.

Ginny had spent a long time with Harry, discussing his thoughts on the whole mess. She feared he was close to his breaking point and ready to give up. She had confirmed to him that the rest of the Order did, indeed, know about the prophecy. She’d watched him closely as the color drained from his face. She had to point out that they had known about it for a month now, and that no one had brought it up with him. They were all being respectful of his feelings and wouldn’t bring it up unless he wanted to talk about it. That seemed to make him feel a little better.

In a very small, unsteady voice, he’d told her how he’d almost gone to visit the veil in the Department of Mysteries. She’d said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d been found before he had; she didn’t think he was in any condition to stand before that veil right now. Thankfully, the one good piece of news had arrived from Hagrid – Hedwig was with him. She’d flown to Hogwarts, injured, after the attack on Privet Drive. Hagrid promised he’d look after her until Harry returned to school. The relief in Harry’s eyes had been visible.

When they were ready to go, she and Hermione headed downstairs to join the others. They all gathered in the entrance hall, where everyone’s trunks had been arranged in a circle. Ginny had to laugh at the set up; there were so many trunks it looked like a mini-replica of Stonehenge. The twins were there already, sitting back to back and holding each other up as they tried to go back to sleep. Ron, Harry, and Charlie all wore dazed, somewhat half-awake expressions on their faces. Ron, in particular, looked like he hadn’t even been to bed yet. Remus and Tonks looked tired, but more awake than the rest of them, and were talking with Bill and her parents. The only other person in the entrance hall was Jacqueline McClaggen. She sat slightly back from the rest of the group, her pale blue eyes studying them all curiously. Ginny hadn’t been aware she was accompanying them, but had to smile at the expression on her face; the Weasleys all together could be overwhelming. She wondered if Bill had something to do with the fact that Jacqueline was joining them; she’d have to give her oldest brother a hard time about that, as only a little sister could. She liked Jacqueline well enough and had chatted with her several times since the start of summer break, but she’d learned a long time ago not to get too attached to any of Bill’s girlfriends. They usually weren’t around for very long.

"There are anti-Apparation wards in place at the location we’re going, so we’re traveling by portkey," Bill said. "Everyone sit on your trunks and grab hold of this." He smiled as he pulled out a white, circular flotation device.

Ginny couldn’t hold back her smirk. "Are we landing in the water, Bill?"

"Hey, I’ve seen how graceful Harry is with a portkey – anything is possible," Bill joked, smiling at Harry.

Harry returned the smile, but it was forced and never reached his eyes. "I’ll try to stay on dry land."

"We’d better, or I’ll have something to say to you, brother mine," Charlie said, grinning at Bill. "Merlin knows you were never very skilled at arranging a portkey."

Bill scowled and shoved his brother down hard onto his trunk, while the twins sniggered. The rest of them all settled in the circle and reached a hand to the ring. "Three, two, one—"

Ginny felt the rush of air as she was bumped and jostled into Harry and Hermione, who were on either side of her. When they finally stopped, and she took a good look around, her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of the place.

They had landed outdoors in what appeared to be a small fishing village. The buildings were made of white stone with bright red roofs. She could see palm trees with coconuts and smell the sea in the air. They’d been portkeyed to a spot hidden behind one of the buildings, and, as Ginny peered around the side, she could see the sea. Only, it wasn’t like any sea she’d ever seen. The water was a color that almost looked too unnatural to be real. It was a deep turquoise kind of color, and Ginny thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She knew she was going to like it here.

Her father checked to make certain there was no one watching them while her mother cast a shrinking charm on all the trunks so they could be placed inside their pockets as they trudged down the street.

"Okay," Bill said, "we’re in a completely Muggle setting, so absolutely no more magic until we reach Aberforth’s place."

"Bit bossy when you’re put in charge, aren’t you?" Charlie needled, earning a glare from Bill and a reproachful tsk tsk from their mother. Fred looked like he was going to say something but was stopped by a look from George. They continued to exchange glances with each other in that eerie, twin-speak sort of way they had. Ginny suspected Fred had been going to make a comment about Percy, but George warned him off. Charlie made faces at Bill the entire time, and Ginny noticed Harry observing the brotherly interaction.

"How do we get there?" her father asked, obviously delighted to be amongst all the Muggle things.

"We’re going to walk down to that dock," Bill said, pointing to a spot up the road. "From there, we’re going to take a boat."

"A boat?" Harry asked with a trace of a smile. It was the first true smile Ginny had seen from him in days. She watched his face quickly fall back into that mask of indifference that he’d been wearing so often these past few days, but she knew he was intrigued.

"We’re going by boat?" her mum questioned, casting an uneasy glance towards the sea. Ginny had to cover her grin; her mother had never been very fond of the water.

"It’ll be fine; you’ll see," her father said, giving her mum’s shoulder a squeeze. "Let’s get a move on before we raise the suspicion of the Muggles."

Ginny looked at the outfit her father was wearing; he had on khaki-colored shorts that hung below his knees, a garish blue shirt with bright flowers all over it, and a fishing hat that he kept pushing to the back of his head. He was holding hands with her mother and swinging her arm, whistling as he went along. She was certain even the Muggles would think he looked ridiculous, and she rolled her eyes in embarrassment. Hermione caught the look and tried to cover her own smile.

Bill walked ahead with Jacqueline, and Charlie kept inserting his head between them. Ginny could see Bill’s growing annoyance and had to chuckle at Charlie. He always did like to get under Bill’s skin.

The docks were busier at this early hour than the street had been. Fishermen launched their boats, and Ginny watched the activity with fascination. Despite the oppressive tropical heat, there was a slight breeze, and the smell of the sea filled the air. Ginny longed to run her toes through the white sand, but she reckoned her mother wouldn’t take kindly to her running off already.

Harry walked between Remus and Tonks, and she could see both of them trying to draw him into the conversation. He kept his head down, not appearing to notice the sights surrounding him. Tonks kept poking him in the ribs and pointing out various people, but Harry didn’t crack a smile.

They were met on the dock by a deeply tanned, older man with twinkling blue eyes and white hair tied back in a ponytail. There was something oddly familiar about him, something more than his obvious resemblance to Professor Dumbledore.

"Aberforth, I presume," her father said, reaching out to shake his hand.

"That would be me. Welcome to paradise. Albus said to expect you," Aberforth said, his eyes appraising each and every one of them. "You must be Harry; I can tell because you’re about the only one without red hair."

Ginny saw Harry stiffen at being singled out, but he shook the older man’s hand, anyway.

"You can all call me Abe; I’ve never been very good with names, so I’ll call you whatever comes to mind. My place is on the other side of the island. It’s much more private than the village here and far enough away from all the Muggles. Cordelia is expecting you for lunch, so climb aboard."

He waved his hand towards a slick, gray motorboat with a yellow racing stripe along the side. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione took seats in the open bow, while the others climbed into the back. Her mother looked very nervous and hadn’t even shouted at the twins since their arrival; her father seemed delighted by the chance to ride in a Muggle boat. It was rather crowded with all of them onboard, but they made room. and Aberforth started the engine. The ride was slow and leisurely until they left the harbor. Once out of the ‘no wake zone’, Aberforth pulled the little stick he called a throttle back, and the boat took off across the water like a finely aimed spell.

Ginny saw a jubilant smile spread across Harry’s face despite his best efforts to conceal it. He’d turned his body to peer out over the bow and literally whooped with joy as they bounced over the waves and the spray hit his face. The speed was exhilarating to him and brought him to life just like flying always did. Ginny had to admit that she was enjoying it herself, although she found being in the water more intimidating than cruising on a broom. She gripped the side of the boat tightly, but felt her own grin widening.

Both her mother and Hermione looked decidedly green, but the twins were nearly as thrilled as Harry. Ginny was surprised to notice that Ron, too, appeared to be bothered by the motion of the boat. Ron had never had a problem with flying, and he knew how to swim, but he was definitely looking rather apprehensive about the boat. Remus sat still, watching the water warily, while both Tonks and Charlie grinned at each other and stood to watch the splashing waves.

Ginny’s eyes were drawn back to Harry and the way the wind whipped his already mussed-up hair. His eyes kept darting from the waves hitting the side of the boat to Aberforth, who was driving with a predatory grin on his face. Ginny was certain that Harry was studying every move he made and trying to figure out how he drove this thing. If letting this boat fly across the waves was all it took to make Harry smile like that, then Ginny was going to see to it that he got out on the boat every day.

The ride took nearly an hour before Aberforth cut back on the speed and docked the boat on a rickety-looking wooden dock that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. They alighted from the boat, her mother leaning heavily upon her father and Charlie. Tonks tripped stepping off and, if it weren’t for Remus’s quick reflexes, she would have ended up in the water. Tonks shrugged and smiled before continuing off the dock.

Aberforth led them all down a sandy path into a cleared opening. His holiday house was more like a compound that spread out over a vast quantity of land. Ginny was stunned by the beauty of the place and was thrilled at the tropical birds that flew in and out of the windows at will. A wand-painted sign hanging over the front door read ‘the Bungalow’. They entered, and Aberforth yelled, "Honey, I’m home."

Both Tonks and Hermione giggled, but Ginny wasn’t certain why. From another room emerged a beautiful, middle-aged woman with dark hair that she wore pulled back in a plait. She moved with a distinct elegance that was both graceful and sexy at the same time. Ginny assumed she must have loads of sex appeal, judging by the male reaction. She watched as all of her brothers, Harry, and Remus stood up straighter, their eyes following Cordelia’s every move. Even her father seemed mesmerized by the woman, a fact not unnoticed by her mother.

"Allow me to introduce Cordelia Monroe, my longtime companion and conscience. Cordelia, meet the Weasley clan. Don’t even ask me to remember all their names," Aberforth said with a chuckle.

"Honestly, Abe," she said with a melodic-sounding voice. She extended her hand graciously. "Albus told us about all of you. Molly, he said you were the only one who can keep this lot in line, so I should put my faith in you."

Ginny watched as her mother relaxed and seemed to perk up at the words of praise. She smiled at Cordelia’s cleverness – win over Mum, win over all of them. Her mother was certainly going to be Cordelia’s best ally.

"Hello, Cordelia. It’s so nice of you to let us all invade your beautiful holiday home. It’s lovely."

"Yes, we’ve been quite happy here," she replied, smiling fondly at Aberforth. "There are two house-elves who will take care of any of your needs. Why don’t we get you all settled in your rooms before lunch? Then, you can hit the beach. I’m certain the children would like to look around."

Ginny pursed her lips at being called a child, but held her tongue. There was too much to do and see without quibbling already. She saw Hermione stiffen at the mention of house-elves, but Cordelia had already moved them along before Hermione could say anything. They all got settled into their rooms. Ginny again shared with Hermione, while Tonks and Jacqueline took the room next door to them. All four would share a bath. All the boys had taken rooms down the opposite hallway, while her parents took a room downstairs.

Ginny’s room was light and airy with big windows that looked out over the exquisitely colored sea. A ceiling fan kept a light breeze moving throughout the room. The furniture was a tan-colored wicker, and the beds were covered with fluffy bed linens in greens and yellows. She threw on an old pair of shorts and a T-shirt over her bathing suit and went to find the others for lunch.

Harry turned off the water in the shower and jumped at the sound of the bathroom door opening. "I’m almost finished," he called.

"That’s all right; I’ll wait," Ginny answered.

"Ginny! What are you doing in here? I’m naked!" he yelped, hoping the frosted glass on the shower door covered everything sufficiently.

"Yes, Harry, that’s generally how one takes a shower," Ginny replied, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. He also heard two loud snorts that he recognized as belonging to the twins.

Uh, oh. "Exactly how many of you are in here, and what do you want?" he demanded, growing irritated. He felt very vulnerable without his clothes and didn’t trust the twins further than he could throw them.

"Relax, Harry. We won’t let Ginnikins peek at your goods," Fred said.

"Although a quick picture would probably earn us a hefty sum on the black market," George said, thinking out loud.

"George, d’you think we could come up with a product? Some kind of Harry-peep show?" Fred asked.

"Sod off," Harry yelled, finally losing his patience. "What do you lot want?"

"Actually, Harry," answered Ginny. "Tonks told us she bought you a swimsuit, but we found it in your trunk. We knew you didn’t mean to wear these jeans down to the beach, so we’ll just take them back for you and leave the swimsuit here."

"We wanted to take all your clothes, mate," Fred said, "but Ginny says you’ll be just as embarrassed coming out in the swim trunks."

"Ta ta," George said, laughing.

Harry heard the door latch and started to step out of the shower, shaking his head, but quickly returned to the stall when the bathroom door cracked open again. Ginny stuck her head inside.

"Oh, Harry – I still think your bum’s in great shape," she said, giggling and closing the door once again.

Harry flushed and stepped out, examining the shower stall to see if she really could make out any details. Merlin, I love that girl. She really is something else.

He quickly dressed and joined the others for lunch in the kitchen. He had no choice but to put on the new red swim trunks that Tonks had insisted he buy, but he felt very self-conscious wearing them. His legs were pale and thin, and he felt that the suit drew unwanted attention to his knobby knees. All the Weasley brothers were wearing swim trunks – Mrs. Weasley even had to insist that Ron put on a shirt while they ate lunch.

Harry had loved the boat ride over and hoped they’d get to go for another ride soon, but he was a little leery of the sea. He still didn’t really know how to swim and hadn’t been in the water since the second task. He’d had the gillyweed to help him breathe then, so it wasn’t like real swimming.

When the others were finally done eating – and that took some time, as they were all Weasleys – the younger set made their way out to the beach to explore. Mrs. Weasley stayed behind in the kitchen with Cordelia, the two of them were chatting and laughing as if they were long lost friends. Aberforth took Remus and Mr. Weasley into his study on the pretense of showing them some of the magical enhancements he’d made to the house. Somehow, Harry suspected they were discussing him and security issues, however.

The beach was amazing. Pristine white sand that stretched out for miles and miles, the roar of the waves pounding the surf as they sprayed droplets of their amazing color everywhere, and palm trees that shrouded the whole area in secrecy. It was paradise. There were a few other people on the beach – Harry assumed they were from other homes in the area – but it was mostly deserted. He could see a group of small children building castles in the sand while others splashed in the waves.

Ron and his brothers simply dropped their gear and bounded for the water. Ginny and Hermione took their time spreading their towels in the sand. Each removed their shorts and T-shirts, revealing their swimsuits underneath. Harry was frozen on the spot, his mouth going suddenly dry. Ginny wore a modest, one-piece blue suit that was obviously old, as it was worn in spots and stretched tightly in all the right places. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and suddenly wished they’d come to the beach alone.

"Oi, Potter, put your eyes back in their sockets and get in here," Fred yelled from the surf. This comment was met with howls of laughter and sounds of splashing in the waves.

Harry felt his cheeks redden when Ginny and Hermione turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. He kicked the sand with his foot, refusing to meet their eyes.

"See anything you like, Harry?" Ginny asked, laughter filling her voice.

He looked up and caught her eyes. Forcing himself to hold her gaze, he whispered, "Always."

Ginny beamed with pleasure and kissed his cheek. "Come on, take off that T-shirt, and let’s go swimming."

Harry felt uncomfortable stripping off his shirt and walking down to the beach with the girls, but they didn’t seem to notice. He was still painfully thin, and, to his great frustration, his chest remained smooth and bare. The hideously jagged scar that ran along the length of his side and was only now just beginning to fade didn’t help his comfort level any. Although, why he should be bothered by yet another scar was beyond him. Ron distracted him by getting out of the water and running up to them with an angry expression.

"Hermione, what are you wearing?" he demanded.

Harry looked over to see Hermione wearing a black bathing suit that wasn’t all that different from the one Ginny wore. Her skin was already bronzed from so much time in the sun, and Harry was stunned to realize how curvy she was. Those bulky Hogwarts robes hid a lot.

"It’s called a bathing suit, Ron," Hermione said. "We’re all wearing them."

"Not as little as that one," Ron replied.

"Ron. Honestly, it’s the same as Ginny’s," Hermione argued.

"Yeah, but Fred and George aren’t over there gawking at Ginny."

Ginny took Harry’s hand and moved him away from the escalating row. He found he still couldn’t take his eyes off her and liked the way the sun made gold streaks appear in her hair. "You look pretty," he murmured, afraid one of her brothers would overhear.

"Do you think so? This suit is old; I wish I’d had time to get a new one. I’d love to have a bikini, but Mum would flip."

Harry gulped at the thought of Ginny in a bikini. "I think I’d like you in a bikini, too," he said before he could stop himself.

Ginny flashed him an evil grin. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Harry began to reply but was hit with a huge splash of water in the face. Spluttering, he looked up to see Ginny winding up to send another blast his way. He spread his arm out to retaliate, and the two began a huge water fight that the twins quickly joined. They spent the afternoon splashing in the surf and generally having a wonderful time. Harry was fascinated, watching the kids on the beach build their sand castles, and thought he would have fancied doing that as a kid.

They took a long walk along the beach and ate all the snacks Cordelia had sent along with them. In the late afternoon, it got rather windy, which kicked up the surf. Fred and George let out some whoops and called to everyone to go body surfing. Harry watched them riding the waves with keen interest. It looked like a lot of fun.

"Just wait for a big one, then dive into it and let it wash you onshore, mate," Ron instructed, noticing Harry’s hesitation. Harry put his glasses on his towel and decided to give it a try. When the wave caught him, he dove and at first was thrilled with the exhilaration of the ride. Suddenly, he felt like there was something pulling him down, and he couldn’t get his feet under him before another wave crashed over his head. He became disoriented as his body was knocked beneath the surf. Even when he could get his eyes open, everything was blurry. He couldn’t get up. The waves were pounding on top of him incessantly, and it felt as if the sea were trying to drag him under.

Harry began to panic. After all the safety precautions from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he was going to drown while splashing in the sea. Another wave hit him forcefully in the chest, causing him to open his mouth and let out his remaining air. He choked on the salty seawater that rushed into his nose and mouth. As everything began to fade and go black, he felt strong hands grab him beneath his arms and pull him to the surface.

Harry gagged and coughed repeatedly while Ron tried to drag him to shore. His legs wouldn’t support him, and he stumbled until Ron finally scooped him up and carried him out of the water.

"Harry, are you all right?" He heard Ginny’s panicked voice next to his ear as Ron dropped him in the sand and began pounding his back. He was still coughing and desperately trying to fill his lungs.

"Holy shit, Harry," Ron yelled. "What were you thinking? Why’d you stay under so bloody long?"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, exasperated. "I really don’t think staying under was intentional."

The seawater roiling within him finally came up, and Harry rolled over to empty his stomach in the sand. Ginny pushed Ron away to stop the pounding and began rubbing his back soothingly. After the water came up, he felt better, and air was finally returning to his lungs.

"I didn’t do it on purpose, you idiot," he gasped, when he could finally speak again.

"Geez, Harry, you don’t even have to look for trouble for it to find you," Fred said.

Harry looked up to see that they were all looking rather pale. "I don’t know what happened; it felt like it was trying to pull me under."

"Well, yeah, that’s the undertow," Ron said shortly.

"The what?"

"The undertow. You know, from the wave coming in behind you," Ron said, waving his arm in the air towards the water.

Harry felt stupid and was growing irritated. "Well, how was I supposed to know that? I’ve never been in the sea."

"You’re supposed to swim out of it; you didn’t even look like you were trying," Ron said. The stress was passing, but he still paced back and forth like a caged lion.

"That would be fine if I knew how to swim," Harry snapped. He was the one who had just nearly drowned; he didn’t see why Ron was shouting at him for it.

"What do you mean, you don’t know how to swim?" George asked. "We all watched you rescue Ron in the second task."

"I had the gillyweed, so I could breathe, and there was no undertow in the lake," Harry said, feeling very nettled.

"You went into the lake without knowing how to swim?" Fred asked incredulously.

"I had to; they had Ron. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to figure out that Dumbledore wouldn’t really let anything happen to him." Harry was angry and self-conscious and definitely done with the sea for today. "I’m going back up to the house to get changed."

"It’s all right, Harry. One of our goals for the summer will be to teach you how to swim," Ginny said, handing him his glasses and helping him to his feet.

He swayed slightly and tried not to let it show. His legs felt like jelly, and the walk to the house seemed like miles. He wouldn’t mind learning to swim, and he also thought the exercise would do him good. He had to get back in shape to continue his training.

"I can’t believe you went in that lake for Ron," Fred said. "I would have just left him, and I know how to swim."

Ron punched Fred on the arm, and Fred retaliated by pulling Ron into a headlock. "Gerroff," Ron said, pulling away from his brother.

"All right, you, two, that’s enough. Let’s head back to the house," Hermione said, pulling the two brothers apart. "You’re looking rather pink there, anyway, Harry."

Harry looked down and noticed the distinct pink tinge to his skin. He’d always been fair, and, although he hadn’t thought about it, the sun here – wherever here was – was obviously much stronger than it was in England.

"Who did your Sunblock Charm, Harry? He obviously didn’t do a good job," Hermione said, glaring at Ron.

"Don’t look at me; I didn’t do it," Ron huffed.

"What’s a Sunblock Charm?" asked Harry.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny said, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Do you mean to tell me you haven’t had on any sun protection while we’ve been out all day?"

"It’s just a sunburn; I’ll live," said a very irritated Harry. How was he supposed to know all this stuff, anyway? "It’ll peel and fade, like they always do."

"Harry," Hermione said in her bossiest tone, "even Muggles have lotion for sun protection."

Harry frowned, remembering Aunt Petunia slathering Dudley up with gooey white stuff and leaving it heavy on his nose. She’d never used any on Harry, and he’d been just as glad.

"Never mind," Ginny said. "Mum can fix you right up. With a house full of redheads, yours won’t be the first sunburn she’s healed."

After they reached the house, they all went up to shower and dress for dinner. Harry locked the bathroom door securely this time. He liked the beach, but didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling after he left. He had sand in places where sand just didn’t belong. His skin was bright red and painful to the touch, particularly his shoulders and back. He walked slowly, each step causing discomfort. The backs of his knees seemed to radiate heat, and he winced with every step.

He remembered sunburns as a kid and how Dudley would chase him and try to slap the painful spots. At least none of the Weasleys would do that – he hoped not, anyway. You could never tell with Fred and George. He shook his head quickly; he didn’t want to think about Dudley right now. He decided to forget his pride and ask Mrs. Weasley for a sunburn remedy. If she could alleviate this pain with a simple spell, he could tolerate her fussing.

As he hobbled down the stairs, he nearly collided with Aberforth, who was on his way up. Harry winced in pain as the older wizard grabbed onto his shoulders to steady both of them.

"There you are, Mr. Potter, just the man for whom I was looking. Although, I dare say, you were much fairer upon your arrival. The sun is intense here, lad; you need to remember to use a Sunblock Charm."

"Right, I’d worked that one out on my own, thanks," Harry said sarcastically. Everyone was really good about mentioning there was a Sunblock Charm after the fact.

"Yes, well…that looks rather painful. We’ll get you fixed up, but first, I wonder if I might have a word to discuss your training. Al asked me to tutor you while you’re here," Aberforth said, eyeing Harry up and down.

"Al? Who is Al?" Harry asked, confused.

Aberforth laughed. "Albus. He always was the stuffy one." He led Harry to a room he called his study. It was lined to the ceiling with bookshelves that held no books but cd cases instead. Harry wondered what Hermione would have to say about that. There was also had a wide variety of odd little knickknacks, both Muggle and magic alike. One wall contained nothing but a large portrait of a goat with a Muggle stereo system on the floor beneath it. The center of the room was left wide open with a red circular rug covering the floor.

"This serves as my dueling room, as well. Al felt that you deserved a bit of a holiday before we set in with your training. I thought we’d give you a few days to recover your health – the sea air is marvelous for that. People around here are so healthy, they never die, you just have to finally take them out and curse them." Aberforth’s eyes were a darker blue than Professor Dumbledore’s, but they twinkled in much the same way.

"What exactly are we going to be doing, sir?" Harry asked.

"I told you to call me Abe. My brother likes the ‘sir’ business; I don’t. We can’t strain your magic, but we can study some curses until your reserves have been replenished. Then, we’ll get your running program restarted. You’ll find running on the beach is very different from running on the pavement. I haven’t had anyone to fence with in some time, so we’ll get back to that, as well. We’re also going to put you through some physical endurance training. A duel can be physically draining, particularly if it lasts a long time. The more powerful the wizards involved, the longer the dual. Your final battle with ol’ Red Eyes is going to be quite the show."

Harry gulped; some holiday this would be. He was determined, however. This is what he wanted – to do something to get this over with, finally to bring an end. "What about the research on Old Magic?"

"Well, as you know, Bill and Jacqueline are here, and they are still pouring through the texts. You’ll have to ask them about their progress. Once they narrow down the spell, I’ll work with you on how to use it."

"I wish we could hurry that up."

"Don’t be in a hurry to fight, boy. Let him come to you; he’ll be weaker from spending all his energy looking for you. It’ll stun him when you come out hexing."

Harry’s heart clenched slightly. Voldemort would be coming for him, and Harry had better be ready when he did. Aberforth must have seen the flicker in Harry’s eyes, for he continued more gently.

"Cordelia is going to work with you on some Healing Charms. She’s quite good with them, and it’s always a bonus to be able to do minor healing in the field."

Harry glanced up at all the swords and shields adorning the wall. "I haven’t fenced in a while." Not since Jonathan…don’t think about that.

"Would you like to give it a go, lad? Cordelia’s not a fencer, and I miss having a sparring partner."

Harry took the sword and tested it out in his hands. The swinging motion felt good, and he quickly got into his old groove. Aberforth pointed his wand at the stereo, and loud Muggle rock music began to blare from the speakers.

"My greatest weakness is rock music. Albus likes the chamber pieces, but I was always fond of some kickarse drums. The Weird Sisters have nothing on some of the Muggle bands. Let’s go."

Harry and Abe sparred for a good twenty minutes to the blaring music, before Harry felt his arms and legs begin to shake with exhaustion. Abe was very good, and obviously experienced, but Harry was pleased to realize that if he had been at full strength, he could have beaten him. Even as weak as he was, he was holding his own. Abe grinned the entire time, whether he was attacking or defending, and Harry found it rather disconcerting. He tucked that bit of information away for later use.

As their swords clanked, Harry swayed slightly, and Abe called a halt. "We’ll call this one a draw, shall we, lad? Yes, yes, this is going to be entertaining. Come, sit and have a drink with an old man." He waved his wand and a wardrobe opened in one corner of the room, revealing a very elaborate bar. As soon as Abe walked behind the bar to lift two glasses, recognition flared in Harry’s eyes.

"You work at the Hog’s Head," he blurted.

"Right in one. I keep an eye on things for Al during the school year. You’d be surprised how much people reveal if you slip ‘em a pint or two," he said, grinning. "What can I get you, lad?"

Harry glanced at the fully stocked bar. "Firewhiskey?"

Abe grinned. "Try again."

"I’m almost seventeen, just a few more weeks," he reasoned.

"Then ask me again in a few more weeks. I’m not about to go getting myself on Mrs. Weasley’s bad side the first day."

Harry’s shoulders slumped. "It was worth a shot. How about a butterbeer?"

"That I can do," he said, pulling the top off and handing Harry the bottle. "So, tell me, lad, is there anything specific you’d like me to teach you?"

Harry gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Yeah, how to defeat a Dark Lord who’s immortal."

"He’s not immortal…close, but he’s not there yet. Supposedly, Grindelwald couldn’t be defeated, either, but Al did it. Granted, he was older than you, and I am truly sorry such a burden has been placed on one so young, but it can be done. We’re closer to the answer than we’ve ever been before. As I see it, the real danger is keeping that information from him."

"How do you mean?"

"If Voldemort learns of these texts, he’ll stop at nothing to get his hands on them. The secret to defeating him is in there, but so is the secret to defeating you."

Harry swallowed, briefly taking note that Aberforth had no trouble using Voldemort’s name. The secret to defeating him? He’d never thought of that. It didn’t seem like it would be all that hard to do; he’d been close enough to death plenty of times. Plenty of times…but he’d never died. Harry shuddered.

A large, colorful bird swooped in and sat on a perch behind Aberforth. Something about the bird seemed vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t quite grasp what. He was mesmerized by the bird, unable to drag his eyes away.

"Your godfather used Tiki to send you some letters when he stayed with me," Abe answered Harry’s unasked question.

Harry spun to look at him. "Sirius stayed here?" he asked, keeping his voice very low. He’d been thinking a lot about Sirius since his visit to the Ministry.

"He did; we had quite the time together. That man could drink. He also loved the speedboat. I noticed you enjoyed the ride, as well. Would you like to learn how to drive it?" Abe asked.

Harry nodded eagerly. He was pleased to think of Sirius here. It was nice to think of him lying in the sun, carefree and enjoying himself. It was a much better image than the one Harry had of his godfather locked away and miserable at Grimmauld Place.

The door opened, and they were interrupted by Ginny sticking her head in the room. "There you are; we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Merlin, Harry, look at your sunburn." She walked over and ran her hands along his bare, very red arm. "Come on, you two. Mum sent me to fetch you for dinner. She’ll fix you right up, Harry. She’s already done Ron, who was really blotchy. He never pays enough attention when applying that charm; you should have seen the streaks."

They followed Ginny from the room, Harry’s mind filled with unanswered questions, but also new possibilities.

Chapter Nine: Of Legal Age

The days spent on the island passed quickly, as summer days often do. After a few days of rest and relaxation, Harry began his training routine once again. Since his health hadn’t completely been restored, he’d had to begin slowly. He started by taking short runs along the beach. Aberforth was right – running in the sand was different, and Harry’s calf muscles protested vigorously. Still, he found he really enjoyed the solitude of the early morning runs and hearing the roar of the waves and calls of the birds while he ran. He rose with the sun in order to complete his run before anyone else awoke. In times to come, whenever Harry would look back on his time spent on the island, it was always with fondness and a sense of peace.

He and Abe fenced daily, and often Remus would join them, as well. Harry’s skills had far surpassed Remus’s, and Harry would beat him every time. He got a taste of what Ron must feel like when playing chess, and he enjoyed it. Tonks and he would spar in the martial arts, with Abe giving instructions as they did. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione also joined in on this part of Harry’s training. As the weeks went by, Harry regained most of his lost muscle and began to look fit and healthy once again. After screaming when she caught sight of his scorched skin that first day, Mrs. Weasley was very careful and vigilant about applying his Sunblock Charm, and his skin had browned darker than it had ever been. The tan made his eyes stand out even brighter, and Ginny was quite pleased with the result.

Despite all the physical training, he was frustrated by the inability to use his magic. He’d been studying a number of spells that he was anxious to try, and he kept a rather large notebook full of the ones that interested him. Cordelia, who was extremely adept at potion-making, gave him extra Strengthening Potions that tasted remarkably better than anything Snape or Madam Pomfrey had ever given him. She was a Healer by trade and kept a watch on his magical reserves. She confided in him that the sea air was doing its job, and he was healing at a much faster rate than she’d expected. She told him that after he turned seventeen, she’d allow him to practice some weaker spells. He had to promise not to tell Madam Pomfrey, however.

Harry appreciated the time he got to spend with Ginny most of all. At first, when he learned that they’d be at the beach with her entire family, he thought there would be no time or opportunity for snogging sessions. How wrong he’d been; Ginny made certain of that. They made it a point each evening after dinner to go for a long walk on the beach and watch the sunset. There was a hammock in some trees near the water’s edge, where they sat and listened for the hiss of the sun hitting the water’s edge on the horizon. Holding hands, they walked for miles, enjoying each other’s company; and snogging, of course. A lot of snogging. Harry had never seen Ginny wearing so little clothing. At school, she was always well covered in heavy robes, but at the beach, her main attire consisted of a swimsuit. Harry found he liked the beach very much.

Ginny taught him how to swim during the first few days they were there. He knew the basics; he just needed a little practice. She was very patient with him as he tried to hide his nervousness.

"You have to trust me, Harry. I promise I won’t let go. Learning to simply float is the most important part and the rest will follow. Just lie your head back and I’ll keep my hand on your lower back. Pretend like you’re going to take a nap in the water," she said forcing his head back.

He found he greatly enjoyed the lessons, mostly because of how much time he got to spend in the water with her touching him. It was very difficult not to get distracted from what they were really supposed to be doing. In just a few days, he was swimming with the rest of them. Harry was very proud that they had accomplished that together.

Keeping his word, Abe taught Harry how to drive the boat. The first day they went out, both Ginny and Charlie decided to come along; they wanted to learn, as well. Harry felt like he knew Charlie the least of all the Weasleys, so he was glad to get some time to know him. Charlie was probably the most athletic of all his siblings and had a fierce competitive spirit to go along with it. Abe showed them the basics of driving the boat; it wasn’t difficult, really. He taught them how to read the buoys – right on red when returning to the harbor – and more importantly, how to maneuver in the waves. Harry loved the speed, and soon he and the two Weasleys were trying to outdo each other on who could give the most thrilling ride. Abe didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he encouraged it.

Harry loved being on the boat and tried several times to convince Ron to join them, but Ron kept coming up with feeble excuses. Ginny teased him unmercifully about feeling seasick.

"I’m not seasick, I just like my feet where I can see what’s under them," Ron insisted.

Charlie reminded Harry of Ron; they were actually very similar in a lot of ways, although Charlie didn’t seem to have Ron’s temper. When it was Charlie’s turn at the wheel, Harry wasn’t above using his trump card. He’d pull Ginny to the back of the boat and begin kissing her, which always distracted Charlie. Charlie, of course, had caught on to what Harry was doing but still couldn’t seem to ignore it. Both Harry and Ginny knew this and used it to their complete advantage. Abe was amused by their antics and began giving Charlie play-by-plays of what was going on behind him, often with great exaggeration.

Harry was quite proud of himself for being able to tease Charlie this way. He was still fairly uncomfortable with physical displays, but he’d come a long way since he’d started dating Ginny. The fact that he was able to kiss Ginny in front of her brother – even if it was just to slip Charlie the mickey – was a huge milestone for him. He had Ginny to thank for that; snogging her had multiple benefits. By the end of July, all three could captain the boat with ease, but continued their lessons simply for the enjoyment of being on the water.

Harry had noticed Ron’s continued distemper and recklessness. His temper was so volatile that no one was ever certain whether to approach him or not. He joined them on the beach, but could never just sit still in the sand; he had to keep moving. Harry made certain to arrange times for him and Ron to slip away, so Ron could practice Apparating. Ron’s only condition on practicing was that they keep it secret from Hermione. Harry knew that Hermione would love to help, but he could also understand how her enthusiasm for learning could be daunting. Harry agreed, and hoped that Hermione would be so thrilled when Ron passed his test that she wouldn’t be too upset by their hiding it from her.

It wasn’t difficult to get time away from Hermione, anyway, since she had made it her mission to free Ricket and Talia, Cordelia’s two house-elves. The first day at the Bungalow, Hermione had told Cordelia all about S.P.E.W. and her feelings on liberating the house-elves. For her part, Cordelia listened patiently before pointing out the flaws in Hermione’s thinking. Neither Ricket nor Talia would go anywhere near Hermione and would flee whenever she entered a room. Their behavior didn’t faze Hermione at all, and she continued with her efforts to sway Cordelia on a daily basis.

"They simply need to be shown that the way they are living is oppressive. They need to be taught to stand up for themselves," Hermione insisted.

Harry could see that Cordelia was fond of Hermione, but had no intention of freeing her house-elves. He decided to stay well out of that debate.

Harry couldn’t help but notice the continued and increasing tension between Ron and Hermione. Their bickering was harsher than it had ever been, and sometimes Ron’s words were more biting than could be called friendly. The previous day, Hermione had informed Ron and Harry, in her bossiest tone, that they were both suffering from some kind of stress disorder, and she began a long spiel about her plans for what to do about it. Harry got annoyed by her interference, but Ron had completely exploded. He had made Hermione cry, and Harry had to step in and tell his friend that he was out of line. It had created tension between Ron and Harry for the rest of the day, and they still hadn’t spoken.

Harry knew Ron was having difficulty accepting what he had done at Malfoy Manor. He was wondering what kind of person it made him and lashing out at everyone in his frustration. Harry knew this, because it mirrored how he’d been feeling and what he’d been thinking since he first learned about the prophecy. Ron had even apologized to Harry for never noticing that Harry couldn’t swim back in fourth year. It was old news to Harry, and he tried to wave it off, but Ron seemed to be questioning his own priorities for never noticing. Harry went against orders and used a brief bit of Legilimency to try to determine Ron’s feelings. The overriding thought he picked up from Ron was the question if he was really that shallow. Harry hated to see Ron doing this to himself, but knew from experience that Ron had to work through it himself.

The nights were still the worst for Harry. Nightmares continued to plague him relentlessly. Ron had agreed to cast a Silencing Charm on their room the night they first arrived, so at least he wasn’t waking the whole house, and, for that, he was thankful. Due to the active days, the sun, and the sea air, Ron was sleeping much better, and his insomnia seemed to be cured. In fact, he slept so soundly that he rarely woke up to Harry’s screams. Unfortunately, when they went to bed at the same time, Ron usually put the lights out. Harry had to struggle to control his panic and ragged breathing until Ron fell asleep, so he could re-light the candle. Since Harry was always up before Ron, he simply blew it out again before going on his run.

As promised, Remus had been keeping him updated on what was happening with the Order. Apparently, Voldemort was stronger again, since the attacks on Muggles were on the rise. The Daily Prophet only reported sanitized versions of attacks, indicating that Fudge was still very much in control of the paper. Professor Dumbledore still hadn’t come to an agreement with Fudge on how to handle the prophecy. Fudge had threatened full disclosure in the Prophet. Harry shuddered at the thought of every witch and wizard he met knowing what he was meant for, what he had to do.

One morning, when Harry finished his run, he walked around the beach in front of the Bungalow while his body cooled down. It seemed empty this morning, and he wondered where everyone had gone. Today was his seventeenth birthday; he was finally of age. He kept trying to concentrate and see if he felt any different. He thought he should – after all, he was a man now – but, honestly, he didn’t notice any difference from the way he felt yesterday.

He walked into the kitchen and found Mrs. Weasley placing a light breakfast on the table. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," he said, sitting down and biting into an apple.

"Good morning, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling warmly. She walked towards him and kissed him on the head. "Happy Birthday."

Harry was pleased with the greeting, and a warm feeling filled his belly. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Where is everyone?"

"Well, Cordelia and I need to go into the village to pick up some things for your special dinner tonight. Hermione and the twins want to come along, so they’re getting ready. Bill and Jacqueline had to take care of some Order business. I’m not certain about everyone else, but they’re around somewhere."

"Okay. I’m going to put on my swimsuit and head down to the beach. Will you tell Ron and Ginny if you see them?"

"Of course, dear. Though, I don’t want you to go in that water if you’re down there alone. Wait until somebody else is with you," Mrs. Weasley said, placing both hands on her hips.

Harry grimaced; she’d been frantic when she heard about Harry’s near drowning. He knew she meant well, but her hovering could be stifling. "I won’t, Mrs. Weasley," he said, ducking out of the kitchen before she could continue her lecture.

He climbed the stairs to his room, took a quick shower, and changed into his swim trunks. He began heading out to the beach when he heard the sounds of an argument coming from behind Remus’s closed door.

"I can’t believe you’re still on about this," Tonks’s angry voice hissed. "We’re old friends, we share a history, nothing more. You should know how it is with old friends and how well you know them."

Harry supposed they were arguing about Charlie. Hermione had told him about the conversation she’d had with Tonks. Harry had picked up on the tight friendship between Tonks and Charlie, but hadn’t noticed it was bothering Remus.

"Yes, I know about old friends very well. Of course, I lit up my last one like a Weasley Whiz Bang."

Harry gasped along with Tonks. Remus sounded so angry, and he was obviously still bothered about Wormtail, no matter what he had said to Harry. Suddenly, Harry really didn’t want to hear anymore of this conversation. He backed away from the door and hurried down the stairs, Remus’s angry words ringing in his ears. Harry liked Charlie, he’d had a lot of fun with him while learning to drive the boat, but he didn’t want to see Remus hurt, and he didn’t want to see Charlie come between Remus and Tonks. Tonks had been so good for Remus.

He went outside and made his way down to the water’s edge. During his time here, he’d got friendly with the two little boys from the next house, the ones who made sand castles. Harry sat with them one day and watched how they drizzled the wet sand on top of the dry to make peaks and turrets. He was fascinated and ended up sitting in the sand to work with them. Ron and the twins had teased him at first, but after a few days of Harry enjoying making the castles with the boys, all the Weasley brothers had got in on the act. They’d made enormous sand villages around castles with moats, and Charlie had, of course, added dragons.

The sun grew warmer on his back while he added designs to the walls of a fairly elaborate structure that he’d created in the sand. Harry noticed a shadow fall across his work. He looked up to find Ginny standing there with a wide grin spread across her face.

"Happy Birthday, luv," she said, plopping down next to him and kissing him soundly on the lips.

"Was that my present?" he asked cheekily.

"Nope. Presents are for later. This one is nice," she said, admiring his work. "Bit conservative for Weasley standards, though. If this is to be ours one day, it’ll definitely need more rooms."

Harry spluttered and looked up sharply. Is she serious? Ginny never looked up, but continued to push the sand around absentmindedly. His face heated up, as his mind wandered with the thought of why they’d need more rooms. He sincerely hoped that his future would hold a home with her, but he also remembered the Muggle phrase about houses made of sand. Until Voldemort was defeated, he could make no real plans with Ginny, no matter how much he might like to do so. He couldn’t promise her anything for the future. He wouldn’t even joke about it with her, for her sake, because right now, he felt like his whole life was built on sand.

Harry and Ginny spent an enjoyable day together on the beach, just the two of them. He didn’t know if everyone else had left them alone as a birthday gift, but he was very grateful for it. They took a picnic to a secluded spot and let the food get cold while they snogged in the surf. Abe had given him the day off from training, and he decided it was the best birthday he’d ever had. When they finally packed up their stuff and went inside, the Bungalow was still empty.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe they’re in the drawing room; it’s tea time." She waited for Harry to lead the way.

It was eerily quiet as Harry walked down the hall with Ginny behind him, and it unsettled him. He scolded himself for being so skittish, but couldn’t help the feeling. He thought it strange that Ginny wasn’t offering an opinion; she usually had an opinion on everything her family did.

When he pushed open the door to the drawing room, it was pitch black inside, much darker than it should have been in the middle of the afternoon. Harry still wasn’t allowed to use magic, and Ginny wasn’t of age, so she couldn’t cast an Illumination Charm, either. His palms began to sweat at the thought of entering the room, but he didn’t want Ginny to know about his new unreasonable fear of the dark. If he could just make it over to the window without panicking, he could pull the shade and let in some light.

Steeling his resolve, he bit his lip and shuffled his feet into the room. His legs felt like lead as he tried to drag them across the floor. It was as if they didn’t want to obey his commands. His heart was beating so loudly within his chest that he thought Ginny would certainly hear it and ask him what was wrong.

Without warning, the lights in the room flared, and someone jumped out towards Harry. He didn’t even hear what was said as his instincts took over. He pulled Ginny behind him, raised his other hand, and thought, ‘Stupefy’. He felt a burning heat inside him, and a bright, white light filled the room. Glass exploded everywhere as all the windows shattered. Furniture was overturned, and a harsh crackle filled the air. Harry shoved Ginny towards the door and took a step backwards. He felt a hand grasp his upper arm.

His mind flashed to another dark room – a white Death Eater mask, and curse after curse bringing unbearable pain. ‘You’ll be begging for the release of death when I’m through with you.’

"Don’t touch me," he cried through clenched teeth, pulling into himself as he stumbled for the door. He had to escape; he had to get Ginny out of here. He wouldn’t let them touch her; she’d never have to feel that. He wasn’t going to let them near her, and he wasn’t going to go through that again.

"Harry!" Ginny yelled, shaking his arm forcefully. "It’s okay. You’re okay."

She didn’t sound afraid; her voice sounded firm and demanding. His eyes darted around the room wildly, noticing the balloons and presents on the table for the first time. There was a ruined birthday cake, smashed beneath heavy panes of glass, set up on a table in the corner. As Harry’s breathing slowed, he took in the concerned faces of all the other houseguests, who were standing around him, watching him warily.

He’d just blown up his own birthday party. He felt humiliated that everyone had seen him like this, but couldn’t stop his body from trembling as it released the tension. He saw Mrs. Weasley hurry over to Fred and George, both of whom lay on the floor, unconscious from Harry’s wandless Stunning spell. He shut his eyes in embarrassment as his knees gave out, and he sank to the floor.

"Whose bright idea was it to jump out at him like that?" Ginny demanded. He could hear the fury in her voice, but he wished she wouldn’t make any more of a scene. She knelt beside him and gently caressed his face.

"I’m all right," he whispered, his voice sounding shaky even to him. "Sorry about that."

Ginny helped him to his feet and over to the couch. Remus sat down on his other side. "You certainly know how to make an entrance, Harry. Sirius would have been proud," he said, smiling. Despite his joking words, Harry could see the concern shining in his eyes.

"I’m all right," he whispered.

"No, you’re not," Remus said, laying a gentle hand on Harry’s knee. "I should have thought of this, Harry, and I’m sorry. We are going to have to talk about some things later, though, okay?"

"Hey, mate," Ron said, moving to stand behind Ginny. Ron hadn’t spoken to him since the argument with Hermione the day before, but looking up into his friends worried eyes, Harry knew all was forgiven.

"Hey. Thanks for the party."

"Right. I warned the twins you didn’t like surprises, but I really never saw that coming. Blimey, Harry, you’ve got jumpy." Ron said.

"Having someone constantly trying to kill you will do that to a person," Ginny snapped.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes wide and full of concern, "how do you feel after using so much magic? I realize it was unintentional, but that was a powerful spell." Harry could tell she was caught between her concern for him and being impressed with the display.

Mrs. Weasley ennervated both Fred and George, and they sat down in chairs across from Harry while Mrs. Weasley fretted over them.

"Nice bit of wandless magic, mate," Fred said.

"Yeah, remind me never to hack you off," George said ruefully while rubbing the back of his head.

"Sorry," Harry said, blushing and looking down at the floor. "I overreacted."

"Overreacted?" Ron burst out. "Is that what you call it? Bit of an understatement."

"Lay off, Ron," George said.

Noticing Harry’s distress, Mrs. Weasley came to his rescue and saved him from further explanation when she said, "Why don’t we move this party into the kitchen. The cake is ruined, but there’s plenty more food. I think we could all use a nice cup of tea."

She began ushering everyone out, leaving just Harry and Ginny on the couch.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, putting her fingers on his chin and forcing him to look at her.

"Yeah…a bit embarrassed."

"It reminded you of Malfoy Manor, didn’t it?"

Harry tensed at her words, and he quickly darted his eyes away.

"Harry, I can feel you stiffen up at the mere mention of that place. I think you need to talk about it, luv," she said gently.

He nodded. She was right; this had got out of control, and he needed to do something. Ignoring it wasn’t making it go away.

"Come on, let’s celebrate your birthday, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow," she said, pulling him to his feet.

He smiled and pulled her in close. "How did I get so lucky to find you?"

"Find me? Harry, I was right under your nose for years and practically had to use a sledge hammer to get you to notice me." Her eyes were open wide, staring at him incredulously.

He cringed at his own stupidity. "Sorry about that. I’ve always been a bit daft when it comes to girls."

"It’s lucky you’re so sweet, luv; otherwise, I might have washed my hands of you long ago," she said, giggling.

"You’d miss me, though," he said with a smug smile, then couldn’t believe he’d actually said it.

She laughed and swatted his arm. "Prat."

"I like when you call me ‘luv’," he said suddenly. "I wish I could come up with a nickname for you."

Still wrapped in his arms, she looked up at him. "You do have one for me, Harry. You always call me ‘Gin’; you were the first one who did that."

"But… I’ve heard other people call you that," he said in confusion.

"They do now, but not the way you say it. It sounds kind of…naughty when you say it."

"Naughty?" he said, his eyes opening wide. A slow, feral grin spread across his face. "I can be naughty."

"I know you can," she said, laughing. "It’s part of your charm. Now, come on, everyone is waiting to celebrate your birthday."

He held her back and leaned in for a passionate kiss. "It’s my birthday - let them wait," he growled, claiming her lips once again.

After the initial shock, Harry had a wonderful time at his party. Everyone kept giving him concerned glances at first, but, gripping Ginny’s hand, he did his best to ignore them. Mrs. Weasley and Cordelia put out a huge spread of food, and they put a candle in a pumpkin pastie for him to blow out. Eventually, everyone relaxed, and the party went full-swing.

He opened his gifts – he’d never got so many presents in his life – while Abe blasted some music on his Muggle stereo. They all stayed up late into the night, talking, dancing and laughing. Before the party finally broke up, Cordelia pulled him aside and quickly checked him over. She said she couldn’t detect any setback from his use of magic, and that she thought he was ready to begin his training again. She gave him a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion for the night and also handed him a phial of a Calming Draught. She told him to keep it to use at his own discretion when he was feeling anxious or tense. She did it very matter-of-factly and without any pity or fuss, and, for that, Harry was grateful. He pocketed the Calming Draught and headed up to bed. Tomorrow, he would finally begin working on some of the spells he’d been learning.

The next morning, he found Abe in his study with a very grave look on his face. Harry instantly knew something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked without any preamble.

"Sit down, Harry," Mr. Weasley said from the corner of the room. Harry hadn’t even noticed he was there until he spoke.

He sat in the offered chair, but remained tense and wary. "What happened?"

Mr. Weasley sighed deeply and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I wish I had better news, Harry, but there was a devastating Death Eater attack just outside London last night."

Harry sat back in the chair, absently running his hand along his scar. He hadn’t felt anything; he wondered if that was because he was so far away. Mr. Weasley noticed the gesture and added, "According to all our reports, You-Know-Who wasn’t there, only his minions. The attack happened on a Muggle street…and it appears to be directed at you."

Harry looked up sharply. "At me? How?"

"The name of the street was Potter Lane, seventeen houses were burned, seventeen Avada Kedavras were used, and there were seventeen Dementor attacks," Mr. Weasley said, sighing. "I’m sorry, Harry."

Harry gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. Seventeen…this was Voldemort’s way of acknowledging that Harry had reached adulthood. All those innocents suffered, because he’d had a birthday. That silent list of the names of all the victims that he kept in his head was growing by leaps and bounds.

"Don’t let him get to you, lad," Abe said, roughly shaking Harry’s shoulder. "It’s exactly what he’s trying to do. You need to stay focused on the task at hand. Cordelia tells me your reserves are at full strength, so we begin your magical training today."

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the sick feeling threatening to turn his stomach. "Okay." This was it; he needed to get serious. He’d wounded Voldemort the last time; he had to prepare to ensure that the next time they met would be the last.

Abe nodded in approval and stood up; Mr. Weasley gave Harry’s shoulder a tight squeeze. "I honestly wish this wasn’t all laid upon you, Harry, but I truly believe you’re up to the task," he said before leaving them to begin. Mr. Weasley’s confidence in him pleased Harry, and he felt a little of the coldness that had seeped into his soul warm up and dissolve.

He and Abe had spent most of the day practicing spells. Harry hadn’t used any magic in a long time, so he was rusty and needed to improve his concentration. Thoughts of the attack and what the Order was doing kept distracting him, and he found it difficult to focus. He could feel the tension in the whole house and assumed everyone was walking on eggshells.

When he and Abe finished for the day, Harry left the study and found Ron, Fred, George and Charlie waiting for him. "Come on, Harry. Grab a sweatshirt, and let’s go. We’re going out," Charlie said.

Harry looked at them all in confusion. "Going out where?"

"Weasley family tradition when a brother becomes a man. We didn’t get to take Ron, because he was in school when he turned seventeen, so we’re taking you both tonight," answered Fred.

"Taking us where?" Harry asked warily. He didn’t trust the twins, but he was both touched and honored to be included as a brother.

"Well, there is no place to get firewhiskey; the village is all Muggle," George said. "But there are plenty of Muggle bars, and that’s where we’re going."

"We’re going to complete the transformation," Charlie said, grinning. "After tonight, you and Ron will be men."

Harry saw Ron roll his eyes at his brother’s theatrics. Still, Harry couldn’t help grinning; a night out with the Weasley boys sounded like fun.

Abe refused to let them take the boat, stating that neither Harry nor Charlie was ready to drive it after a night out drinking, but he added that if they walked up the beach about a mile, there was a little shanty that would serve them. The five of them headed off towards the bar, scowling at Abe for his lack of faith.

The bar was a dodgy-looking place – just a shack set back off the beach in some trees. As the boys entered, they found several locals and tourists alike drinking colorful drinks with umbrellas in them. They sat down at a booth and examined their surroundings.

"Charlie," Fred said. "Have you ever had a Muggle drink?"

Charlie smiled and crossed his arms behind his head. "Out on the dragon reserve, we can’t always get firewhiskey. Muggle alcohol is readily available, so, yes, I’ve had a fair bit of it. Just leave it to me." He walked up to the bar and placed orders for all of them.

George watched him with apprehension. "I think we’re about to be had."

"He thinks he can drink us all under the table," Ron said, sounding like he was an expert at holding his alcohol. "It’s time someone put Charlie in his place."

Fred snorted. "And you think you’re the one to do it?"

Ron shrugged. "One of us should be able to do it. You two talk enough about your exploits, and Harry and I can handle ourselves."

Harry remained silent. He’d only had alcohol once before, and, as he recalled, he hadn’t handled it very well at all.

Charlie returned to the table with a tray full of shots and handed them to the others.

"Here’s to welcoming our brothers to manhood," Fred declared solemnly.

"Here, here," the others chorused before they all tipped back their glasses and emptied them.

Ron spluttered and coughed while he gasped for air. George patted him on the back in amusement. Harry felt his eyes watering as the burning sensation went down his chest, but he kept his composure and slammed his glass back on the table like the others. He was rather proud of himself for handling the liquor better than Ron. He was still much shorter and slighter than his friend, so being able to take the shot better pleased him.

Charlie handed out another round. "Let’s try this again, little brother," he said, shoving Ron in the shoulder.

Ron’s ears colored, and he glared at Charlie. "Give me that," he snapped, grabbing another glass.

"To island vacations – I only wish we could have brought more girls," Fred said, raising his glass in a toast. He and Angelina had broken up a few months ago. She was touring with her band, and they’d drifted apart. Fred didn’t seem upset with the breakup, and the two were still very friendly. Fred had wasted no time before playing the field since the split, however.

Again, they all tipped their heads back and swallowed the amber liquid. Harry was filled with a pleasant warmth, and he finally felt some of the tension that he’d carried all day leave him. Ron handled the shot better this time; Harry saw his eyes watering, but he didn’t cough. Ron raised his eyes to meet Harry’s, and they grinned at each other.

"Where are Ginny and Hermione?" Harry asked. "How come they didn’t want to come?" He hadn’t seen Ginny all day, and he missed her, although he didn’t want to admit that to her brothers.

"We didn’t invite them," said George. "This is a Weasley male tradition. Dad took Bill, Bill took Charlie, they both took Percy, and so on. It was our duty to initiate you."

"So, what happens when Ginny turns seventeen?" Harry asked.

The twins knitted their eyebrows for a moment, then shrugged in unison. "I suppose Mum will take her out," Fred said. "Knowing Ginny, she’ll handle her alcohol better than Ronniekins, here."

"Hey!" Ron said, swatting Fred’s poking finger away. George went to get another round of drinks while they all continued to swipe and tease each other. As the time passed, Harry began to relax and take part in the ribbing. He suddenly found everything the Weasleys said extremely funny and couldn’t stop laughing at them. Ron had started to slur his words, and Charlie kept imitating him. Harry sniggered into his empty glass.

"I think Harry needs another drink," Charlie said. "You still seem too sober." Harry noticed that Charlie had trouble focusing on him while he talked.

"I’ve had practice; I’m not a virgin anymore," Harry said, pleased with himself.

The Weasley brothers all choked and spit out their drinks. They looked at him in alarm, their eyes widening like saucers. Harry could see Ron’s expression darkening, and he couldn’t figure out why they were all looking at him that way. Confused, he scratched his head and tried to focus. Finally, it dawned on him what he had just said. He colored brilliantly, holding up his hands as if to ward them off.

"No! That’s not what I meant," he pleaded, his eyes wide and round and darting wildly from brother to brother. "A firewhiskey virgin… you called me a firewhiskey virgin last time. I just meant…I haven’t…we didn’t…er, I mean… Snogging! All we do is snog. Ginny is a good at snogging…she does this thing to my ear, uh…er…I mean…Bloody Hell!" Harry knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words from blurting out. "Just a little touching – nothing serious – I swear."

Fred and George coughed behind their hands, laughing so hard they needed to hold each other in their chairs. Charlie's face looked like it was warring between amusement and anger. Ron, who knew Harry best of all and could read his panic a mile away, shook his head. "Harry, shut it, mate, you’re only digging yourself in deeper. I won’t let them beat you to a pulp, but it doesn’t mean I won’t do it myself."

Harry gulped loudly and grabbed another drink. It seemed to have a calming effect on his nerves, and he felt his heart rate slowing. It wasn’t that he was scared of them, exactly, but there were four of them, and they were all bigger than he was.

"That was more information than I ever needed to know about my little sister," George said.

"And more than I ever want to hear again. Do you understand that, Harry?" asked Fred, his lips twitching. "You may be a randy seventeen-year-old, but that’s our little sister, and we don’t want any details."

"She’s as randy as I am," Harry replied before slapping his hand over his mouth as if trying to pull back the words.

"Will you shut it, Harry," Ron said, shoving another drink in Harry’s hand to keep him from talking. All of a sudden, his eyes took on a dreamy, faraway expression. "I like it when Hermione is the randy one."

"All right, you two. Merlin, Harry, all anyone has to do is give you a drink, and you’ll spill everything," George said.

Harry nodded mutely, afraid to open his mouth to speak. He felt like he had no control over the words that wanted to come spilling forth.

"It’s our duty as Harry’s guardians to build up his tolerance. We’re doing this for his own good," Fred said.

"Right," Charlie said, finally letting the anger leave his face. "It’s a tough job, but it needs to be done, and we’re up to the challenge."

"To the end of our virginity," George said, raising his glass in the air and causing the others to howl in glee.

"You’re not my minders," Harry said grumpily, suddenly registering what Fred had said.

"Yeah, because you’re so capable of taking care of yourself," Charlie said, ruffling Harry’s hair and causing him to pull back in a huff.

"I can take care of myself; it’s just this that gets me in trouble," Harry said, jamming his finger towards his forehead. The others burst into laughter as he poked his finger repeatedly at what he thought was his scar, never realizing that he had his finger aimed at the wrong side of his forehead.

They spent several hours at the bar, sampling every kind of Muggle drink they served, until none of them could stand up straight. They held each other up as they walked along the beach towards the Bungalow, singing a song that had been on the radio in the bar. None of them had the words right and sang at different rates of tempo. Harry was happy and filled with joy; he’d had a wonderful night. Going out with the Weasley brothers was loads of fun and something he’d like to do again. He’d like it if Ginny came the next time. He really missed Ginny as they walked back along the beach. He wanted to kiss her and hoped she’d be awake when they got back. They were on the beach in front of the Bungalow when Charlie stopped walking suddenly, making the rest of them plough into him.

"What are you on about?" Ron asked angrily, barely holding himself upright. He and Harry had their arms around one another and kept getting their feet tangled as they walked unsteadily along.

"I wanna go swimmin’," Charlie said, slurring his words.

"Great idea," said Fred.

Both twins stripped off their clothes, threw them on the dock, and dived into the ocean; Charlie followed right behind them with a cannonball.

Ron and Harry looked at each other. "Your mum won’t be happy about this," Harry said.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Then let’s get in quick so we at least get one good dunk before she tells us to stop."

Tossing their own clothes into the pile and laughing loudly, they leapt into the ocean and promptly began a water fight while trying to dunk each other. They were all so caught up in their splashing that they didn’t notice Ginny and Hermione had come outside and were standing on the dock watching them.

"Ginny!" Ron yelled. "Go inside and take Hermione with you. We’re naked in here."

Hermione grinned, although her cheeks were stained a bright pink. "It’s called skinny-dipping, Ron. If you didn’t want anyone to know you were out here, you should have kept the noise level down."

The three older Weasley brothers had remained oddly silent, watching how their younger brother was going to handle this with amusement. Harry just stared at Ginny. She wore white shorts and a soft, green colored blouse that fluttered in the breeze. He thought she looked like an angel standing on the dock.

"All right, Harry?" she called to him.

"I told them we liked to snog," he blurted out.

She started to laugh, a deep, rich, gleeful laugh that filled his senses. I made her laugh like that.

"I bet that was just what they wanted to hear. Harry, you’re pissed," Ginny said.

"Yes, I am."

"What do you think, Ginny?" Hermione asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I think these boys need to be taught a lesson about leaving their clothes lying around for their mother to pick up."

Ginny giggled. "Excellent idea, Hermione. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it myself," she said, as she helped Hermione scoop up all the boys clothing. They walked off the dock and began heading up the beach.

"Wait," Charlie called. "Ginny, this isn’t funny. Abe and Cordelia are in there, never mind Mum."

"Yes," Ginny said, smiling with mischief. "And they’re all still awake. If you want your clothes, I’ll leave them right inside."

It was only at this point that Harry realized that they’d taken his clothes, too. How am I supposed to get inside without my clothes? What’s she on about?

Fred took up Ginny’s challenge and proceeded to walk right out of the ocean completely starkers.

Ginny squealed and dropped the clothes, turning around quickly. Hermione stood frozen to the spot, appearing unable to move. Her mouth working furiously, while her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Fred calmly picked up his things and began dressing.

"Exactly what is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Weasley’s shrill voice echoed in the moonlight. "Ginny and Hermione, get yourselves inside this instant, young ladies. You, boys, get out of that water and put your clothes back on." She turned her back while they all meekly complied.

Harry stepped out of the water and wandlessly summoned his clothing over to him. He buckled on his jeans, but struggled to get the shirt on right. Ron finally had to help him get his arm through the sleeve. Mrs. Weasley turned back around and began pacing before them. Her face was scarlet in fury.

"What were you thinking?" she shrieked. "I expect better from you. Coming back here at this hour, under the influence of entirely too much alcohol, all of you. At the home of Professor Dumbledore’s brother, no less. Do you have any idea how loud you were being? Anyone could have heard you. Using magic on the beach when you know...you know you've been expressly told not to use it where the Muggles might see. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Charlie! You’re the oldest here, how could you have allowed this? I’m certain this was your idea," she said, pointing at the twins. She glared over at Ron and Harry, neither of whom could stand on their own and were holding each other up. "And you two should know better than to go along with them. Honestly, Ron, you’re a prefect in your headmaster’s family home. Where is your sense of responsibility?" Mrs. Weasley ranted. "Honestly, the lot of you! You weren’t brought up to drink like this. Ron, you can’t even stand up straight."

"Harry’s pissed, too, Mum," Ron said, earning a glare from Harry.

"I can see that," Mrs. Weasley said, crossing her arms across her chest, "and you all ought to be ashamed of yourselves for corrupting him. He’s barely seventeen. I want you all inside and in your rooms this instant."

All five of the boys lowered their heads and plodded inside. Harry elbowed Ron hard in the ribs. "Thanks a lot," he hissed.

"I panicked," Ron cried. "I knew she wouldn’t really yell at you."

Harry stopped as the room began to swim. He had to grab onto both the wall and Ron to steady himself. "I don’t feel so good," he mumbled.

He was never sure exactly how he got up the stairs and into his bed that night, but he did manage a full night’s sleep without the aid of a potion.

Chapter Ten: Loss of a Brother

The morning after the infamous Weasley boys’ night out was one Harry would just as soon forget. He woke with a pounding headache and barely made it to the loo in time to heave the remains of the alcohol from his system. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but as he knelt in front of the porcelain god, he swore he’d never go out with the Weasley brothers again. It was one thing to feel miserable after someone tortured him; it was something else entirely to know he’d done it to himself. No, it was much easier to blame Charlie and the twins.

When he finally managed to return to his room – leaning heavily on the wall for support as he did – he was surprised to find Ron in a much better mood than he should have been. "What are you so cheerful about?" he asked grumpily, plopping back onto his bed. The movement made his head spin even worse, and he had to grip the mattress to keep himself steady.

Ron peered into the hallway to make sure it was empty. He shut the door before sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed. He pulled a phial of a strange-looking yellow substance from the drawer of the nightstand. "Drink that," he said, handing Harry the phial.

The mere color of the liquid made Harry want to hurl again. "Urg, get that ruddy thing away from me, Ron," he said, pushing Ron’s arm away.

"Suit yourself," Ron said with an expression that was so smug it made Harry want to hit him. He would have, too, if it weren’t for the fact that it would require all his energy simply to get off his bed again. Merlin, he felt awful.

"What is it?" Harry grumbled. He was annoyed that Ron wasn’t feeling as bad he felt. He wished Ron would just tell him what he was on about and leave so he could go back to sleep.

"It’s a hangover remedy. Works much better if you take it before you drink, but it still helps."

"Where did you get it?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"I made it," Ron replied. "Cordelia has been helping me with Potions. She said anyone could sit for the NEWTs, whether you take the class or not. It’s highly unlikely to pass without it, but she said she’d help me try. If I can pull off an Acceptable, I could still apply to be an Auror."

Harry was stunned. He knew Ron had been missing for long periods of time while they’d been at the beach, but he had no idea he’d been using the time to work. That wasn’t the Ron he knew. "Whoa," Harry said, whistling. "Hermione has really rubbed off on you, mate."

"Hermione doesn’t know I’ve been doing this, so don’t tell her," Ron said, his shoulders stiffening. "I’d like to surprise her."

Harry sniffed the yellow liquid. "It smells awful," he said, scrunching up his nose.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Quit being such a baby and just drink it."

Now Harry couldn’t refuse the potion. Steeling himself, he tipped it back. It tasted as bad as it smelled, and he gagged as it went down. His stomach began to calm instantly, and the pounding in his head lessened to a more manageable volume. Harry looked up at Ron. "I’m impressed."

Ron grinned with pleasure. "Don’t mention it to Charlie or the twins, mind; I want to see them suffer."

Harry returned the grin. After what they had done to him last night, he wasn’t opposed to making the elder Weasley brothers suffer a little, either.

As the days of August flew by, Harry began to think about returning to Hogwarts and the year ahead. Somehow, he knew in his heart that this year would decide his fate. The battle was coming, and he was determined to be ready for it. He knew he’d miss this island getaway and decided that if he lived through the final confrontation with Voldemort, he’d use some of the money in his vault to buy his own holiday cottage by the sea. The money was just sitting there, and he knew Sirius would have wanted him to use it for just such a thing. It didn’t have to be elaborate, just a place where he and Ginny could escape when they needed. It would have to be big enough for any of the other Weasleys who wanted to join them, as well.

He and Ginny had stumbled across a broom shed behind the bungalow and waited until after dark to take a spin on one of the brooms. It was old and rickety and certainly didn’t hold a candle to Harry’s Firebolt, but they enjoyed themselves, just the same. They had to stay close to the Bungalow to avoid being seen, and the old broom would buck and lose altitude occasionally. Ginny started and clutched at Harry each time this would happen, and Harry found himself eagerly anticipating these dips, because he liked how closely Ginny pressed herself against him.

Aberforth talked to him about his powerful display of wandless magic at his surprise party. He said the kind of power needed to cause such destruction was immense, never mind that Harry had done it wandlessly. He split Harry’s training into two parts – one using a wand, the other without it. Harry proved adept at each. The first thing he noticed, as he began practicing spells, was the speed at which he could send them off when not using a wand. The wand seemed to slow him down, but he still needed it for the more powerful spells.

Harry’s shield was incredibly strong, and it soon reached a point where Abe couldn’t breach it. He called Remus, Bill, and Tonks into the study one afternoon for a test. He hadn’t informed Harry about whatever it was he was planning, so Harry watched with slight unease as Abe ushered the others into the study. He was stunned when he realized Abe wanted him to duel with all three of them at the same time to see if they could break through his shield.

Harry was nervous, but he took several deep breaths and tried to clear his mind, focusing only on the task at hand. The others took positions around the room, glancing warily at Abe when he gave the signal to begin. After a moment of hesitation, they began throwing their curses, and Harry moved with the speed and agility of a wild cat. He felt the magic inside him throb and intensify as he concentrated on blocking and dodging while he kept up his shield. His maneuvers were completely defensive, as Abe had instructed. His movements became a blur as he wandlessly deflected spell after spell. Soon, they were all sweating with exertion, but his shield remained intact. A Stunning spell hit him from behind, but was deflected back at Bill, who slumped to the ground. Remus was the next to be hit with his own curse, until only Tonks remained. Finally, she, too, succumbed; Harry’s shield had never flickered.

He stood, panting and staring around the room at his unconscious teachers. He felt stunned; he knew his power had been increasing, but found this alarming. He wasn’t certain if it was because he’d reached adulthood, or that his inner power had been stretched during that last battle with Voldemort, but something had changed. When he concentrated on the fight, everything else blurred, and it felt as if he were drawing energy from the life around him.

"Well done, lad," Abe said, breaking his contemplation. He walked to the others and revived them.

"That was amazing, Harry," Remus said, getting back on his feet. "I think Voldemort is in for a surprise the next time you meet."

Harry caught Remus’s eye, and they stared, unblinking, at each other across the room. Both knew that the next time Harry and Voldemort met would be the last, the final battle. Harry felt that it was Remus who was dreading it more than he was. He was ready to end this; he was tired of running. Remus nodded, as if understanding the unspoken communication.

Tonks walked over and gave him a quick hug. "The Auror Acceptance Committee is going to be thrilled with you next year, kid."

Harry smiled, appreciating her confidence, but, for the first time, the idea of being an Auror didn’t thrill him, as it had in the past. He wondered if, after Voldemort was gone, if he lived through it, would he want to continue chasing Dark wizards?

"It’s a good thing you’re so powerful," Bill said, grinning. "You’ll need to be to handle that sister of mine."

Harry chuckled. "Believe me, I’m much more scared of her than I am of Voldemort."

"Then there’s hope for you, yet," Remus said, slapping him on the back as they all headed out of the study for lunch.

A few days later, Harry decided to visit the village. The others had all been back on various occasions, but Harry had been happy at the beach and too busy with his training. He wanted a chance to look around before they had to go back to London. It seemed that all of them were growing restless, for nearly everyone was planning on heading into the village that day. Even Bill and Jacqueline decided to take the day off to do some shopping. As they gathered in the kitchen, Harry was surprised when Tonks joined them. She was wearing khaki-colored pants and a tiny blue halter-top. Her hair matched the color of the top.

"Are we ready?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips and looking them all over.

"Is Remus coming, too?" Harry asked, noticing Charlie smiling at Tonks.

"No, he has to do something for the Order in London this morning," Tonks said, not meeting Harry’s eyes. He knew that Mr. Weasley had been staying in London during the week so he could keep working, but Harry suddenly wondered how Tonks had been on holiday for so long.

"How come you didn’t go back, too?" he asked.

"Don’t be silly. I’m your bodyguard," Tonks replied, winking at him. Suddenly, everything clicked into place for Harry. He knew that the goblins had sided with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore had made special arrangements with them to hire Bill to work on the ancient texts. He must have made similar arrangements with Moody to keep an Auror with Harry during the summer holidays. A few months ago, the extra protection and knowing that he was being watched would have irritated Harry to no end, but now, it didn’t matter. This was how it was and would be until the final battle. It was all up to him to change things.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go," said Charlie, leading them all towards the dock.

Harry could see Hermione looking at the boat while chewing her lip. "Don’t worry, Hermione," he said, grinning. "I’ll make it a fast trip."

"That’s what I’m afraid of," she groaned.

Harry drove them over at top speed, despite Hermione’s protests, and the trip was uneventful. Before they disembarked in the village, Tonks told everyone to partner up and keep their eyes open. She didn’t expect any trouble, but better to be safe. Constant vigilance, you know. Harry had to be partnered with Tonks, so Ginny paired off with Charlie, Bill with Jacqueline, and Ron with Hermione. This left the twins to pair up with each other, and they made a grand show of linking arms and strolling up the street as if they were on a date.

Most of the shops were filled with T-shirts and souvenirs. They all bought little things to remember their holiday. Ginny wanted a new bathing suit, so Harry, Tonks, and Charlie went with her into a little boutique. The prices were outrageous, but the shop held a wide selection of designer swimsuits. Bill and Jacqueline joined them inside.

"I decided I could use a new swimsuit, too, Ginny," Jacqueline said, beginning to browse through the assortment on the racks.

Harry didn’t know Jacqueline very well, but she seemed pleasant enough, if a little flighty. Maybe it was just the blonde hair, but she reminded him of Lavender Brown – very talkative, and with an obsession for clothes.

Ginny seemed to like her, and, along with Tonks, the girls began selecting bathing suits to try on for themselves and each other. Harry hung back with Bill and Charlie. He noticed the dreamy, far-away expression on Bill’s face. Harry had seen that same look on Ron’s face on occasion when he looked at Hermione.

"Make sure to let us see, so we can help you decide," Bill called after the girls as they entered the fitting room.

Jacqueline turned towards him and rolled her eyes. With a mischievous twinkle, she picked up an amazingly tiny little bikini off the rack. "Hey, Ginny," she called, as she followed the other two inside. "I think this one would look great on you."

Harry gulped audibly, as images of that little piece of fabric on Ginny sprang into his mind. His face flushed, and he studied his shoes to avoid the stares he knew Bill and Charlie were giving him.

"Get your mind off it, Potter. That’s exactly the reason Ginny won’t be buying that suit," Bill said, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

"What’s the point, brother?" Charlie asked, chuckling. "Harry already admitted to us he wasn’t a virgin anymore."

Harry wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He looked up in alarm, his skin burning. "Charlie!" he yelped, then, noticing the growing color on Bill’s angry face, he took an involuntary step backwards. "That’s not right. We were talking about firewhiskey. A firewhiskey virgin," he hissed, lowering his voice on the word ‘virgin’.

Charlie continued to chuckle, and Bill finally seemed to catch on that Charlie was winding him up. He glared at both Charlie and Harry. "Ginny’s not getting a bikini."

Harry felt a trickle of sweat as it ran down his back, again thinking that Ginny had entirely too many brothers.

The girls eventually came out of the changing room. Both Tonks and Ginny decided the store was too rich for their blood, and, even though Harry promised to buy it for her if she’d get a bikini, Ginny declined. She said the summer was almost over, and it was not worth the battle she’d have to go through with her mum. Jacqueline bought a bikini but refused to show Bill. She said he’d see it on the beach. The two of them left the others, who went into another bathing suit shop to continue their search. This place was much more reasonable, and both girls found new suits. Ginny bought a one-piece suit in jewel tones that seemed to please her. Harry thought it was nice, but he would have preferred the bikini.

They continued along the streets, stopping at various shops and tourist attractions. Harry held Ginny’s hand as they walked, thoroughly enjoying the rare freedom. The Muggles in the village never gave him a second glance, and, although his scar still got occasional looks, none of them were gaping. He thoroughly enjoyed this chance to be normal. In one shop, a heavyset native woman seemed overly interested in them. She actually followed them around the store, picking up various items at which they had looked. She never spoke to them, but watched them closely. She made Tonks nervous, so she ushered them all out of the shop. The woman didn’t follow, so Harry soon put it out of his mind.

As he enjoyed his time with Ginny, he couldn’t help but notice the easy jokes that passed between Charlie and Tonks. They teased each other like friends who’d known each other for a very long time. Harry knew this shouldn’t bother him, and it was none of his business, but he couldn’t help worrying about Remus. He must not have hidden his dismay well, for Tonks approached him about it when they entered a small snack bar. Charlie and Ginny had walked down to the beach to watch some of the surfers.

"Something on your mind, kid?" she asked.

Harry looked down and began studying his shoe. "No…er, not really."

"You’ve been kind of quiet," Tonks pressed.

Harry wouldn’t look at her. He liked Tonks very much. She’d always been very good to him, and he knew this was none of his business. He couldn’t help how he felt, however, but didn’t know how to tell her.

Tonks sighed. "Look, Harry, Charlie and I are old friends, nothing more. I’m in love with Remus. If that weren’t true, who knows?" she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe Charlie and I would give it another go. But that’s not going to happen, because it is true. Remus should know that, and I don’t know what else to do to make it clear to him. I’ve told him how I feel."

Harry was stunned that she was revealing all of this to him, but didn’t know why he should be. Tonks had always been up front and honest with her feelings. Still, he felt the need to defend Remus. "He’s got some issues getting close to people," he said, thinking back to all the trouble that he’d had connecting with Remus.

"I’m well aware of that, and none of it matters to me. A lot of people seem to have a problem with our age difference. As if I’ve ever been bothered with anything as silly as convention. I do what feels right; I like to laugh, and Remus has quite a mischievous streak that he likes to hide behind his stiff upper lip. I don’t care about his finances; other families live on an Auror’s salary. I don’t care about his being indisposed on the full moon; hell, I’m beastly once a month myself."

Harry tried to fight the blush, but felt his face and neck light up like a Christmas tree. He nervously cleared his throat and searched for anywhere to put his eyes except on her.

"Bloody hell, Harry, I’m sorry. I forget how young you really are sometimes," Tonks said, laughing and patting his leg in comfort. Harry could understand how she felt. Sometimes, he felt like he’d already lived more than an entire lifetime in his short seventeen years.

"Anyway," Tonks said, sighing again, "the thing is, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m a fairly tough girl, and I’ve seen a lot. Hell, with relatives like mine, you have to be tough. The thing is, Remus knows all this, but he’s got to be the one who lets it go. He has to trust me, and trust himself enough to give it a shot. You and he are so similar. Fortunately, Ginny got to you when you were still young enough for it to make a difference. You’re much more resilient than he is. He’s had opportunities to change his life before, but he’s always walked away. Maybe if he’d just trust enough in another person, and the choices they are willing to make, instead of feeling that he’d drag someone else down, he’d see that the other person could bring him up. But, until he’s willing just to let everything go and try, I don’t see that happening."

Tonks sounded so sad, and Harry desperately wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t want Remus to give up on her, but he didn’t want Tonks to give up on Remus, either. "It’s hard to let go," he whispered, a world-weary pain shining in his green eyes.

"You did it. You let Ginny in, and look at the difference it’s made. Not only are you a stronger person for it, but you used the love she gives you as a defense. The two of you are stronger together than either of you is apart. That’s how love works. Until Remus can let go and just go with that, he’s doomed to keep repeating the pattern," Tonks said.

Harry looked out towards the beach; he could see Charlie and Ginny making their way back towards them.

"As to Charlie," Tonks said in his ear. "I still don’t think it would ever work with us, even if it weren’t for Remus. Charlie is wondering if he made a mistake, but he didn’t. He loves those dragons and that nomadic lifestyle. It will call to him again; he’d be miserable stuck back here, looking after unicorns and tied to a house and a family. That’s just not Charlie."

Harry felt better after his little talk with Tonks; his spirits were lighter. They ate lunch together at the snack bar, then began looking for the others. They found Ron and Hermione first; Hermione was loaded with gifts and souvenirs for her family. Harry felt a twinge of guilt, knowing she missed her parents, and that she’d again had to cut her time with them short because of him.

Aside from the time on the beach when they’d all been together, he hadn’t spent much time alone with Ron and Hermione during this trip. They’d been disappearing for long stretches. He and Ginny had been getting in a lot of time for stolen kisses, so he imagined Ron and Hermione were doing the same. Still, he missed them and hoped when they returned to school things would go back to normal.

"Where have you two been?" Harry asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Ron was obviously excited and nearly bouncing on his feet to tell them. "They had a surfing competition down the other end of the beach. It was brilliant; you should have seen the stuff that lot was doing. Hermione and I rented surfboards and tried it ourselves. You wouldn’t believe how good Hermione is."

Hermione smiled, obviously pleased with Ron’s compliment. "I learned when I was younger and actually did quite a bit of surfing this summer when I was with my parents."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Ginny exclaimed. "How did you do, Ron?"

"He was pretty good, once he got the hang of it," Hermione answered for him, smiling at her boyfriend. Harry was happy to see the two of them getting along. Maybe all the tension was finally over.

They sat down at a picnic table overlooking the beach. They could see the activity on the beach from one side and the village on the other. "You lot sit here for a few minutes while Charlie and I peer up the street to see if we can catch sight of the twins," Tonks said. "Merlin only knows what they could be up to at this point."

"We haven’t seen them all day," Ron said. "It’s been quite nice, actually."

Ginny slapped him on the arm. "Go ahead; we’ll stay right here."

Tonks and Charlie each headed in opposite directions, their eyes scanning the street, looking for red hair.

Nearly the moment they were far enough down the street for the crowd to swallow them, it happened. Obviously, someone had been watching, waiting for the moment they could get to Harry without an adult present. Death Eaters wearing full outfits – masks and all, despite being on the beach – emerged from both directions. Muggles fell in the street, struck unawares. A panic soon followed, with terrified tourists and villagers running to get away from the strange men firing the strange lights. Harry could see streams of green cutting down Muggles at random.

"Look out," Ron screamed, as a jet of light came hurtling towards them. Ron and Harry jumped to one side, Hermione and Ginny to the other, as the table where they’d been sitting absorbed the curse and was split down the middle. Ron and Harry took cover behind a small brick wall that kept the sand on the beach and away from the street. Harry could see Hermione and Ginny take cover just inside the snack hut where they’d eaten lunch.

The Death Eaters were firing a barrage of curses at the wall where Harry and Ron were crouching. "This is insane," Ron yelled, firing a single curse back before ducking back down as a shower of sparks flew in the air where a curse hit the wall. Part of it had started to crumble. Harry raised a shield, trying to cover him and Ron as best he could, while he fired several of the curses Abe had taught him in rapid succession.

He could see Hermione shouting something at them, but the noise from the street and the panicking Muggles drowned out her words. He was sickened by the destruction piling up in the street. The Death Eaters were intent upon Harry, but not opposed to taking out as many Muggles as possible in the process.

He could see the signs of wand-fire further up the street and assumed it was Tonks trying to reach them. He needed to think of a distraction. He was done running; it was time to show these morons that there was a reason Voldemort feared him. If they had joined the Dark Lord thinking it was inevitable that Voldemort would be the one eventually in power, Harry had to show them that nothing was a guarantee.

Taking a deep breath and strengthening the shield he had around himself, Harry stood up.

"What are you doing?" Ron hissed, trying to grab his arm. "Get down, Harry."

Harry ignored him; he stepped over the wall and began firing curse after curse. The speed became so rapid that his arm looked like a blur as he aimed his spells. The Death Eaters began falling. He felt several spells knick his shield, but nothing had got through so far. He’d held it for a long time against the others during practice, but he hadn’t been firing back during that session, so he wasn’t sure how long the shield would last. He could feel it flickering each time he fired a powerful spell towards the Death Eaters.

He knocked them out with Stunning Spells, but wasn’t opposed to giving them a few cuts and bruises along the way. He could feel his anger boiling inside him with white-hot fury, and he fought to control it. Jonathan had stressed that his positive emotions were his greatest strength; therefore, it stood to reason that his hatred would weaken him. He didn’t want to give in to that. They needed to be stopped, as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He fired another Stunner and took out two more Death Eaters who were dragging a woman from a car. He felt his shield collapse as a powerful bludgeoning spell hit him from behind. He landed on the street with an oomph, the breath knocked out of him. Ron took out the Death Eater that got him, while Harry struggled to catch his breath and raise another shield. He knew this one was weaker, but it would have to do. Ron was still taking cover behind the wall, but he couldn’t see what had become of the girls.

Ginny and Hermione had ducked into a small snack shop when the curses had begun to fly. They’d tried to yell to Ron and Harry that they’d cover them if they tried to run over, but there was too much noise to be heard. Ginny wasn’t even sure they could have got across the courtyard, there were so many spells flying through the air.

"Ginny," Hermione said, the urgency ringing in her words. "You can drive the boat, right?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, confused. What good would that do? They were too far from the sea.

"Look!" Hermione pointed to a stone overpass over a canal into the village. It was most likely used to deliver goods and supplies to the local merchants. "We could bring the boat up and get Harry out of here."

Ginny nodded and followed Hermione to the other side of the shack. She knew very well that Harry could and should Apparate away, but she also knew he’d never do it if it meant leaving her and Ron behind. Peering around the corner, she realized that the Death Eaters weren’t paying any attention to them because they were all focused on Harry.

"Okay, now!" Hermione said, and the two of them sprinted down the street. Hermione threw her packages on the ground as they hurried away. The streets were crowded with panicked Muggles, and it was hard to get through the mass. Hermione pulled Ginny out of the way of a stampeding crowd before she was trampled. As they huddled against a building to catch their breath, a familiar voice called to them.

"Ginny! Hermione!" Bill called, pulling Jacqueline behind him. "What happened? Where are the others?"

"Death Eaters," Ginny said. "They’ve got Ron and Harry surrounded near a restaurant on the beach."

"We’re going to get the boat and bring it up the canal. Can you Apparate back to the Bungalow and get some help? They’re killing the Muggles," Hermione screamed frantically, tugging at her hair.

Bill swore beneath his breath. "Where is Tonks?"

"I don’t know! We got separated when she and Charlie went to look for the twins. Have you seen them?" Ginny asked.

"No, I haven’t seen them all day," Bill answered, worry lines creasing his forehead.

"I’ll get help," Jacqueline said, before Disapparating with a ‘pop’.

"You two keep going and get the boat; I’m going to see if I can help," Bill yelled, already running in the opposite direction.

Hermione grabbed Ginny’s hand. "Come on."

They struggled through the crowds a bit further before spying Tonks; she was heavily outnumbered, but holding her own against another group of Death Eaters. Hermione drew her wand. "Petrificus Totalis," she said, and the nearest Death Eater fell.

They helped Tonks take down the others, then explained to the harried Auror what was happening. "Damn it," Tonks said when told Harry was fighting.

"Tonks, we need to get to the boat, but we’re having trouble getting through all these people," Ginny said.

Tonks thought about it a minute, then raising her wand. She created some kind of whirlwind that swirled and created a tunnel of sorts through the crowd. "Just run down the center. Hurry; it won’t last for long."

Hermione and Ginny didn’t need more encouragement. They sprinted down the street towards the boat. By the time they reached the dock, Hermione had fallen behind, and Ginny felt a painful stitch in her side. Gasping against the cramp, she leaped over the side of the boat, turned the key, and heard the engine roar to life. Hermione jumped in and sat in the seat next to Ginny, breathing heavily. "You drive, and I’ll cover you," she said, kneeling on the seat and holding her wand at the ready.

Ginny released the bowline and sped onto the open water.

Harry was growing tired. He’d taken out about a dozen Death Eaters, but they just kept coming. He knew he could fire off more curses if he did it wandlessly, but he was still hesitant of revealing that capability. He didn’t know why there were still any Muggles in the area that hadn’t run away, but the Death Eaters were making sport of several innocents. Harry knew that he was the main target and reasoned that if he were to lead them away from the Muggles, they should follow him. He didn’t want to take the chance of getting hurt or caught, but thought if he could just lead them far enough away, he could Disapparate. Help had to be arriving soon.

He began sprinting down one of the side streets that he knew headed out of the village. He could hear Ron screaming at him from behind, but couldn’t make out the words. His shield had collapsed once again, and he felt various curses cutting and singeing his skin, but he was far enough away that they weren’t causing real damage.

"Harry!" He heard Ron’s call, and something about the tone of his voice made him stop and turn back. Ron was gesturing to a stone archway above the water. He could see Ron running for it. He covered for his friend until Ron got there.

He looked at a Death Eater who was coming up towards him; he stopped a few paces away. There was something disturbingly familiar about the way this man walked, and Harry was momentarily mesmerized, his mind working furiously to make the pieces click into place. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end.

"Potter," the voice drawled. "How typical of you to try and lead us away from the filthy Muggles."

Harry’s head snapped up as he noticed a single long tendril of blonde hair snaking out from the hood of his outfit. But Lucius Malfoy is dead; they told me Tonks killed him. His heart started beating so fast it was painful. So far, during this battle, Harry had managed to keep all the disturbing images of his captivity blocked out, but the sight of Lucius, or who he thought was Lucius, threatened to overwhelm him. Lucius Malfoy had a particularly vindictive personality, and Harry was well aware of it. Clenching his teeth, Harry forced the memories down. He didn’t have time to work this out now, so he stored the thought away for later. The Death Eater raised his wand and aimed it right at Harry, who quirked his eyebrow cheekily before Disapparating, only to reappear a moment later on top of the archway. He watched as the rush of green light sped through the air in the spot he’d just been standing.

"All right, Ron?" he asked, watching Ron gasping for breath.

"Nothing serious. Look," Ron said, pointing to a boat speeding up the canal. Harry could recognize the flaming red hair of the driver as it flew in the wind behind her.

Ron climbed up on the ridge of the archway. Ginny slowed the boat and stopped just below them. "Ready?" Harry asked.

"Are you going to be able to swim to the boat?" Ron asked.

"Not much choice," Harry said, shrugging before he leapt off the side. Ron followed right behind him.

Harry hit the water hard and plunged deep into the water. Trying to remain calm, he righted himself and kicked for the surface, hoping that Hermione could take care of the Death Eaters until he was out of the water. He broke the surface, and, before he’d even looked around to find the boat, he felt his body being lifted in the air and brought directly onto the boat. He watched Hermione shout, "Accio Ron," and bring his friend onto the boat the same way.

Ginny gunned the engine, and they sped away. They’d only gone a short distance when they saw Bill and Tonks waving their arms from the shore. Ginny steered the boat over to the water’s edge, while Hermione levitated them both on board.

"We’ve got six Death Eaters in a full body bind over there," Tonks said, pointing towards a small shop. "I already broke their wands. What’s going on back there?"

"Ron and I stunned a bunch of them, but I didn’t think to break their wands." Harry said, cringing.

"You couldn’t have, anyway, Harry. There were too many of them, and they were still firing when we left," Ron said.

"Ginny, turn around and head back that way," Bill said. "We’ve still got to find Charlie and twins."

"Charlie wasn’t too far from us when all hell broke loose," Ron said. "He went in the other direction from Tonks."

As they reached the stone archway once again, all was quiet. Harry could still see several Death Eaters lying on the ground, but he knew that there had been at least three still firing when he jumped in the water.

"See anyone?" Ron asked, squinting against the sun.

"No," Bill answered, his mouth set in a grim line. "Ginny, pull the boat up to the dock, and we’ll take a quick look around."

Ginny pulled the boat in closer to the edge of the canal, while Bill, Ron, Harry, and Tonks stepped off. Hermione went to follow, but Tonks stopped her. "Stay and cover Ginny. She’s still under the Age Restriction."

Ginny scowled, and Hermione gave her a sympathetic smile. "We’ll keep it running, in case you need a quick escape," Hermione said.

"Harry, duck," Ron yelled from above. Harry hit the ground as yet another flash of green light flew over him. He scrambled up the hill, where Ron and Bill were returning fire with a Death Eater across the road. Harry could make out the distinctive blonde strand of hair, but offered no comment. Tonks crawled up the hill behind him.

"Harry, Apparate back to the Bungalow," she demanded. "Now!"

"No."

"Harry-"

"No, I’m not leaving you all here, Tonks. I’m not," Harry insisted.

Tonks sighed in exasperation. Curses were now coming from three separate locations. Tonks fired one way, Bill another; and Ron and Harry aimed at the third Death Eater. All of a sudden, the brick wall they were crouched behind exploded into dust, sending sharp bits of rock into the air and covering their skin with painful little cuts. Harry’s glasses shielded his eyes, but Ron wasn’t so lucky. He screamed and fell backwards, his hands clutching at his eyes.

Bill had taken down one of the Death Eaters before the force of the blast set him sprawling backwards. He sat up, gasping and clutching his chest. Tonks face was bleeding, and she blinked rapidly. Harry could see she was struggling with bits of small stone and debris in her eyes, as well.

Harry had taken the brunt of the blast on the side of his face. He could feel the warm trickle of blood along his cheek and down the side of his neck. There were droplets pooling on the ground in front of him at an alarming rate. He raised a shield around all of them, but knew it was very weak and the first curse would likely take it down. They were all spent and wounded, and the situation looked dire. Harry glanced around frantically for an idea or some kind of plan.

Before another curse could be fired, however, a familiar red head came barreling around the corner, wand raised and firing rapidly. The blonde Death Eater turned to fire back but was hit in the arm with a slicing curse. He slapped his other hand over the wound. Charlie came charging forth, like an enraged dragon seeing his family under fire. He ran down the street intent upon the Death Eater and completely missed the second one who leapt to his feet behind him as Charlie ran past.

The Death Eater raised his wand and pointed at Charlie’s back.

"Avada…"

"Charlie!" both Ron, who had cleared his eyes, and Bill yelled, jumping to their feet and trying to alert Charlie of the danger.

Charlie continued forward, only stopping when the blond Death Eater Disapparated from the spot in front of him. Charlie came to an abrupt standstill.

"Kedavra."

"Impedimenta," Harry snarled at the same time that the Death Eater finished uttering his hateful curse.

Harry watched in horror as the sickening green light sped towards its mark. Charlie never had time to move; the death curse hit him squarely in the back, knocking him to the ground. Harry’s powerful spell hit the Death Eater, flinging him in the air and into the side of a building, knocking him unconscious.

"Noooooo," Ginny screamed in horror from below. She jumped off the boat and began running, but Harry stopped her by wrapping his arms tightly around her and holding her back. "Help him, save him," she pleaded, struggling to free herself and race towards her fallen brother.

"There’s nothing you can do, Ginny," Harry said, his voice was soft and choked. He felt Ginny’s body go limp, as she broke down in his arms. He was painfully reminded of a similar scene in the Department of Mysteries between Remus and himself. He gripped Ginny tighter, as she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

Ron and Bill reached Charlie’s body. Bill knelt down and gently turned his brother over. Charlie’s dead eyes were open, staring straight ahead. Bill hung his head, his shoulders slumping.

"You son of a bitch," Ron roared, stalking towards the unconscious Death Eater.

Hermione swiped the tears from her cheeks and called, "Ron!"

Tonks had anticipated what Ron was going to do and was already running after him. Ron pointed his shaking wand at the man. "He killed him," he cried, sounding like a wounded animal.

"I know, Ron, but killing him won’t bring Charlie back," Tonks said, big, fat teardrops leaking from her eyes.

"No, but it’ll make me feel better," Ron said.

"Maybe for a minute, but probably not even that long. Charlie will still be gone, and you’ll have a murder on your conscience. You don’t want that."

"I’ve already got that."

"No, you don’t. This isn’t self defense, and you know it."

Ron gritted his teeth, fighting an internal battle. After several tense moments, he finally lowered his wand and dropped to his knees, his shoulders shaking. Hermione jumped out of the boat and ran towards him. She sank down onto the ground next to him and wrapped her arms around him, whispering words Harry couldn’t hear.

Harry held a crying Ginny close and rested his chin on her head. He felt a painful, burning lump in his throat, as he let his own tears fall. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He could see Remus and Abe on the street across the bridge, rounding up the fallen Death Eaters. Someone had to tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before they wandered this way. Harry remembered Mrs. Weasley’s boggart from fifth year. He’d give anything not to have to see her face when she learned about the death of her second son. He raised his wand in the air and sent up a small display of red sparks, attracting Remus’s attention.

How could a day that had started out so lovely turn so terribly, horribly wrong?

Chapter Eleven: Funeral For a Friend

The week that followed that horrible outing in the beautiful island village was one of the longest, most painful experiences of Harry’s life. The battle weary group returned to the Bungalow, stunned and forlorn. Plans were immediately put into place for a return to Grimmauld Place on the following day. Cordelia helped them to heal their physical wounds, but she could do nothing for the broken hearts and spirits that were truly plaguing them.

The first night was the worst. Harry didn’t see Mrs. Weasley, but could hear her cries from behind her closed bedroom door. Mr. Weasley checked on everyone to make certain they were all right, but his eyes were vacant and dulled in grief. His hair seemed to have suddenly become grayer than it had been that morning, and he moved like an old man.

The twins had reappeared to help with the clean-up. They’d spent the afternoon in a Muggle club that was hosting a wet T-shirt contest. Harry could see the overwhelming guilt on both of their faces as they realized what had happened. He knew from experience that they were beating themselves up, thinking that they could have somehow stopped it had they been there. Harry was all too well aware that it didn’t work that way.

He did his best to cheer them up and relieve some of their guilt, despite the fact that he was feeling it as well. The Death Eaters obviously had been informed he was there; he was the one they had come after, and Charlie had just got caught in the crossfire. Seeing the twins so completely torn apart and…lost was one of the most difficult things for Harry to process. It made the situation so much more real and devastating to see the effect it was having on them. He hated feeling so helpless.

He didn’t see much of either Ron or Bill; both had secluded themselves away as soon as they reached the house. After her initial breakdown, Ginny hadn’t cried again, but she’d barely spoken a word, either. Harry was at a loss for how to comfort her. He held her hand and kept his arm around her, because she seemed to need the physical contact. He remembered how much it had comforted him the first time she ran her fingers through his hair and hoped he was at least helping her a little. Early in the evening, after Ginny had finally fallen asleep on Harry’s shoulder, he gently laid her on the couch and covered her with a light blanket.

He walked through the silent house – it had an eerie stillness radiating throughout it – and joined Cordelia in the kitchen. She was in the midst of preparing a huge amount of food, and Harry pitched in to help with the cooking. He really didn’t see the point; he knew he didn’t feel at all like eating. Charlie hadn’t been his real brother, but they’d got close over the summer, and he felt like a part of their family. They’d all treated him that way. If he was feeling as miserable as he did, he could only imagine what they were all going through. Cordelia insisted that the food would be needed, however.

"There are two kinds of people, dearie," she said, in that mellow, seductive voice. "People who stop eating when they are upset, and people who eat constantly when they are upset. Besides, it gives us something to do to make us feel useful."

Harry didn’t know if Cordelia was serious or not; he was never very good with reading people’s emotions or knowing proper etiquette. The Dursleys hadn’t been much for sympathy. Still, if what she said were true, he reckoned most of the Weasleys would probably fall into the latter category. Ron certainly would, anyway, and probably the twins, as well.

The trip back to Grimmauld Place the next day was a sad and virtually silent journey. They bid their farewells to Abe and Cordelia before the portkey sped them back to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Mrs. Weasley looked devastated; dark circles rimmed her teary eyes, and she had to be physically supported by Mr. Weasley and Bill. Harry kept Ginny tucked under his arm and tried to will his support into her heart.

The Weasleys had done so much for him. They’d supported him and carried him through his grieving process when Sirius had died, and he wished he could find a way to repay that kindness. He just didn’t know what to do. He could barely even look at Mrs. Weasley, never mind speak to her. Every time he looked over at her heartbroken face, his chest tightened up, and he had to blink the moisture from his eyes. He had to be strong for them; he couldn’t show them any weakness.

The next few days were spent preparing for the memorial service. Harry learned that the wizard custom for death required the family to cast a spell on the body, returning it to ash, much like a Muggle cremation. The ashes would then be scattered in a place of significance to the witch or wizard, in order to return the magic to the earth. It was believed important that this was done immediately upon death. Mr. Weasley and Bill had already taken Charlie’s ashes to Romania, where they had been scattered on the reserve with the dragons he loved so much.

Often, a memorial service was held at a later date, so friends and family could honor the deceased. Since the Burrow was gone and Grimmauld Place was unplottable, Charlie’s service would take place on the grounds at Hogwarts.

Hermione had volunteered to send out the announcements and invitations, so she’d spent her days in the study, carefully hand-writing each one in her neat script. No one was certain what to do about Percy. Ron and the twins angrily insisted that he didn’t belong; he’d already turned his back on his family. Harry could see both Bill and Ginny wavering over it.

It was Mr. Weasley’s quiet, understated voice that made the decision. "Percy is still your brother, and he always will be, no matter what his choices are. He deserves to be informed of the service."

No one had the heart to argue with him, so an invitation was sent. Muggle attacks had been widespread and vicious in recent days, and the Ministry had been informed of the attack on the Muggle island. There was no way Percy couldn’t have know about Charlie’s death, but he’d made no attempt to contact his family.

The twins remained eerily calm and quiet, until Harry had thought to ask them what Charlie would have done differently if he had been with them. Both brothers eventually acknowledged that Charlie would have been the first one in that Muggle club that day, and he’d have been very disappointed in them if they had done otherwise. Harry was quite pleased with himself for thinking of it, as he saw how much it seemed to help. Fred and George had been so supportive of him after Sirius’ death, always joking with him and trying to make him smile. It made him feel useful to be able to return even a little bit of that to them. He knew the twins were recovering when occasional loud explosions could be heard coming from their room. Harry saw Mr. Weasley’s small smile the first time that he’d heard the bang.

Ron was still surly and quick to ignite. Harry could see the strain in the lines around Hermione’s mouth and eyes, so he suspected she wasn’t having much luck getting through to Ron. Harry tried to goad him into chess games or Quidditch debates by making disparaging remarks about the Cannons, but Ron wouldn’t take the bait. One afternoon, he entered the bedroom he shared with Ron and walked right into the middle of a blazing row between Ron and Hermione.

"How can you say that, Ron? It isn’t even close to the truth, you must see that." Hermione’s voice was pleading and desperate, but he wasn’t certain what they were on about now.

"I don’t have to see anything," Ron shouted. His ears were bright red, and he clenched his fists as he yelled, as if trying to control himself.

"Ron, please. Let’s look at this logically-"

"Logically? That’s always the answer with you, isn’t it, Hermione?" Ron asked, curling his lip. "How logical is it for a Disarming Spell to kill someone? Logic doesn’t always fit real life, Hermione," he said, before shoving Harry’s shoulder roughly as he stormed out the door.

Hermione burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Harry’s eyes were wide, still not certain what had happened between them.

"He’s being so difficult," Hermione said, sniffling and trying to catch her breath. Harry walked into the center of the room and awkwardly put his arms around her. He patted her back, causing her to stumble into him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, realizing too late that he should have been gentler.

"It’s all right," she said, laughing a little. "You’ve still got to work on this comforting thing, Harry."

He grinned sheepishly and ducked his head. "I know."

"I’m really worried about Ron. For a while, on the island he seemed to be pulling himself together, but since Charlie’s death…he’s so angry."

"I’ve seen it, too. I remember after Sirius died…I just wanted to hit something, anything. I nearly broke my knuckles on a tree out back at the Dursley's, but it didn’t help, and that just made me angrier. I couldn’t figure out-" Harry stopped talking, suddenly realizing what he was saying. He shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"Tell me, Harry," Hermione said, gently rubbing his upper arm.

"He’s angry at Charlie for dying, and he’s angry at himself, because he knows that doesn’t make any sense," Harry whispered, staring at his feet intently.

"But that’s ridiculous! Charlie didn’t want to die. How can I help him when he won’t even listen to me?" Hermione said in frustration.

Harry jerked back slightly, and Hermione seemed to realize what she’d said. "I’m sorry, Harry. Of course, you can relate to how he’s feeling. I just hate not knowing what to do."

Harry shrugged. "Keep asking him to play chess…show him you’ll be there when he’s ready. You could always make him some cookies; Ron’s always a sucker for food."

Hermione slapped his arm but grinned suddenly. "Harry, you can still surprise me sometimes," she said, rising on tiptoes to kiss his cheek before sprinting from the room. Harry knitted his brow and stared after her for several minutes.

Mrs. Weasley emerged from her room that evening still looking wan and tired, with the saddest expression in her dull brown eyes. Those eyes had always seemed so alive and full of fire and warmth for everyone; Harry hated to see her like this. He’d always felt pangs of loss whenever anyone mentioned his parents. Staring at Mrs. Weasley now made him wonder what would be worse, losing a parent or losing a child. He imagined one would always expect a child to be the one left behind, not the other way around. He’d managed to give Mrs. Weasley a few brief nods and small smiles of sympathy, but still hadn’t found any words of comfort to offer. Ginny tried, and he knew she was becoming very worried about her mum.

"She’s so listless, like she just doesn’t care about anything anymore," Ginny complained to Harry one day as they were sitting in the drawing room. Ginny was lying on the couch with her head resting in Harry’s lap. He gently stroked tendrils of hair from her face as they talked about Mrs. Weasley.

"I know. She feels so sad and empty, and she can’t muster any feelings about anything right now. It goes away, eventually," he said.

Ginny put a hand on Harry’s arm. "I forget that you know more about this than anyone. Maybe you could talk to her after the service, Harry. I think you might be able to help."

"Me? I don’t know what to say. You know I’m rubbish at giving comfort."

"No, you’re not; you’re just awkward, but you actually do really help," Ginny said, giving him a slight smile. "Hermione told me you helped her with Ron. I saw her in the kitchen, covered in flour. I think she was cooking something for him."

Harry didn’t hear what she had said about Hermione; his mind was still stuck on the thought of talking to Mrs. Weasley about Charlie. He looked at her in concern; he was afraid he’d only make it worse. "I don’t know, Ginny."

"Just think about it, then. She really has a soft spot in her heart for you," Ginny said, snuggling more closely into Harry’s lap. "You might be the one who is able to reach her." She paused thoughtfully. "I’m dreading this service."

"Why?"

"Everyone will be so sad, and they’ll all want to talk about Charlie and their memories of him. There will be speeches, and…it’s just too much," Ginny replied, her eyes filling up with unshed tears.

"If you feel like it gets to be too much, give me a signal, and we’ll escape for a while," Harry said, trying to think of something to help her. "We can go for a walk, or sneak over to the Quidditch pitch for a flight."

She giggled slightly. "A signal? What, like putting my finger to the side of my nose?"

"I don’t know. Can you wiggle your ears?" he asked, playfully pulling on her earlobe.

"No, but I can curl my tongue."

"What?"

She stuck out her tongue and, instead of rolling it, folded it neatly in half and kept it that way. "Bet you can’t do that," she said, after pulling her tongue back inside her mouth.

Harry was strangely turned on, and he cleared his throat before shifting his position. "Okay, let’s stick with the finger on the side of the nose," he croaked.

"Do you have your wand in your pocket, Harry?" she asked, moving her head on his lap to get comfortable.

He nearly groaned, and he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He felt panicky; he was trapped there, because her head was still resting on his lap. He tried to think of something else. Snape. Hagrid’s Flobberworms. Moaning Myrtle.

The sound of her laughter brought him back to the present. He noticed the mischievous twinkle in her eye. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s having me on.

"My wand always responds to you, Gin. You should know that," he said, smiling. He watched as Ginny turned a brilliant shade of red. He quirked his eyebrow at her in challenge.

Ginny raised her chin defiantly. "Quite right, and it had better not respond to anyone else."

Harry thought he’d let her tease him all day if she’d keep smiling like that. He felt so proud of the fact that he was the one to make her smile in the midst of all this.

The day of the service dawned gray and rainy. Thick storm clouds filled the air, and a damp drizzle fell steadily. It was exactly the kind of weather Harry would’ve pictured for a funeral. The weather outside fit the mood inside Grimmauld Place perfectly – somber and oppressive. Everyone was tense, as if waiting to see who would explode first.

Harry put on his best black robes. They were his ordinary school robes, but he didn’t think that mattered. He was relieved to see Ron dressed the same way. The majority of the guests and attendees of the service would be travelling on the Hogwarts Express. Professor Dumbledore had arranged a portkey for the family and Order members staying at Grimmauld Place.

As he finished adjusting his tie, Harry crossed the hall and knocked on the door to Ginny’s room. She opened it right away and looked up at him sadly. She, too, wore her Hogwarts robes. She had her hair pulled back, and her face appeared unnaturally pale. She seemed very small and unsure of herself, and he was reminded of a little girl on platform nine and three-quarters, so many years ago. He reached out and pulled her into an embrace.

"All right, Gin?" he whispered.

"I’m all right," she said, taking a deep breath as if reassuring herself of her answer. "Where’s Ron?"

"I’m here," Ron replied, emerging from his room.

"Are we ready, then?" Hermione asked, entering the hallway behind Ginny.

The four friends headed downstairs and joined the others in the entrance hall.

"The portkey is going to bring us to the train station in Hogsmeade. We’ll have time to walk up to Hogwarts and get settled before the Express arrives," Bill told them.

"How come it takes so much longer for the train to get there when we’re going to school?" Ron asked.

Bill shrugged. "I suppose they plan the speed according to when they want you there. The Express arrives right in time for the feast on September 1, but the ride home is always much quicker."

Harry hadn’t considered this before, but, now that Bill mentioned it, he realized it was true. Both Ron and Bill’s voices sounded strange. They were conversing normally, but it was as if all the emotion had been drained out of both of them. Bill looked tired – defeated, almost. Jacqueline stood next to him, holding his hand. Harry could see the twins sitting by the door. They looked better and were dressed in sophisticated black dress robes, but their eyes were dull and lifeless. Ginny’s hand remained in his, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He could feel how tense her body was, and could understand her unease. He didn’t really want to attend this service, either.

The only other one he’d ever attended had been for Hestia Jones, and that had been held at Grimmauld Place. Unless he’d gone to one for his parents, but no one had ever mentioned it. There hadn’t been one for Sirius, and he’d still been in the hospital wing during the one for Jonathan. Then, for the Dursleys—he stopped that train of thought there. He felt a shudder run down his spine. There had been entirely too much death in his lifetime. Ginny squeezed his hand tighter in silent comfort. He shook himself out of his morose thoughts; Ginny was the one who needed to be comforted today.

When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined them, they all put their hand to an old bottle, and Harry felt the tug behind his navel. His body jerked, and his shoulder jostled with Ginny’s before they arrived on the platform in Hogsmeade. The elder Weasleys led the way up the street towards the gate at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley looked terrible. She was pale and drawn; her face held a dazed, zombie-like expression. Mr. Weasley didn’t look much better. They both appeared so much more frail and older than he’d ever thought of them before, and it made his heart clench.

Professor McGonagall met them at the gate and led them onto the grounds. A large tent had been erected by the lake, with many chairs surrounding a podium. The guests began arriving shortly after them, and Harry recognized many of the faces. He noticed a lot of the Order members discreetly surrounding the perimeter and was surprised by some of the new, yet familiar faces. Many of the DA members who’d left Hogwarts were now standing among the ranks of the Order, including Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Cho Chang.

Harry did a double-take when he saw Cho and made a mental note to ask Remus about it. When had she joined the Order? Cho nodded to Harry from where she stood across the seating area, but Harry turned away. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Cho right now, and Ginny didn’t need that, either.

There were many Weasley relatives there that Harry didn’t know, so he stood with Hermione while a stream of red-headed people made their condolences to Ron and Ginny. Neville and Luna came to stand with them. Both Neville and Luna had heard about the attack on Privet Drive and asked Harry how he was faring. Because people were beginning to take their seats, Harry and Hermione gave them a brief overview and told them they’d fill in the details later when they went back to school. He didn’t think Luna was listening to him, anyway. Her gaze was focused on the lake as if waiting for the giant squid to appear.

Katie walked over to George and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. He smiled and made room for her to sit with Fred and him. Professor Dumbledore welcomed everyone and made a short speech about Charlie and his time at Hogwarts. Then, Bill got up and spoke for the family. He’d seemed comfortable walking up to the podium, but his voice shook slightly when he started to speak.

"I’d like to thank you all for coming," he began, clearing his throat several times before continuing. "There is really no way for me to describe to all of you the essence of Charlie in the few minutes I have here. I think each of us who knew him, knew him differently. To me, he was a tag-along brother who was always annoyingly better at sports than I was. To his friends, he was a laid-back bloke with a strange love of dragons and a cheerful laugh. To my parents, he was the easy one, the slightly mischievous kid who paved the way for his twin brothers. Merlin knows, after the twins came along, all of Charlie’s pranks looked harmless in comparison. To my sister, Charlie was the brother who she found easiest to wrap around her little finger. The one who would never tell when she stole the rest of our brooms from the shed to practice flying. To all of us, he was a loyal supporter who stood by us and our choices, no matter where those choices led us. He died in battle, defending the family he so adored. If we can take any lesson from Charlie’s death, it was his heroic last dive, to save his family and friends, that there are things worth fighting and dying-." Bill said, choking on his words. He shook his head and walked away from the podium.

Mrs. Weasley was openly weeping, her sharp, mournful cries piercing the stillness of the damp summer morning. Harry could feel Ginny’s body shuddering against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm tightly around her and buried his face in her hair, letting it dry a few tears of his own that had escaped. His mind filled with images of Charlie driving the boat, building sand-dragons on the beach, and singing silly songs in a Muggle bar. Harry felt such a sharp pang of loss that it physically hurt.

He couldn’t help but be reminded of the Dursleys. He wondered who spoke for them at their funeral and what was said. Uncle Vernon had plenty of business associates, and Aunt Petunia belonged to many ladies’ clubs, but who really knew them well enough to speak? Aunt Marge, he supposed, but she might have been too grief-stricken. He was Aunt Petunia’s only family, and he had been informed he wasn’t welcome. The tightening in his chest constricted even more so that breathing became difficult.

So lost was he in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even paid attention to the rest of the service. He was brought crashing back to the present when people began rising from their seats to walk around and express their condolences to the family. Ginny leaned over to Harry and whispered, "Can we take a walk?"

He nodded and led her towards the path around the lake. He hadn’t been back here since last year ,when he used to go running. Ginny didn’t say anything at first; she just walked slowly with her eyes set straight ahead. He could see the tracks of her tears, but her eyes were now dry, although still very sad.

He wished he knew the right words to say, but he was afraid anything he did say would make her feel worse. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "All right, Ginny?"

"I’m all right. Better than I thought I would be, actually. How are you doing?" she asked.

Harry smiled. It was so like Ginny to be worrying about him at her own brother’s memorial. "This is about you and your family, not me."

"You lost a brother, too, Harry. You’re a part of this family; Charlie certainly thought so. This must bring up some painful memories for you."

Harry took her in his arms and held her close to his chest. Touching his forehead to hers, he said, "I love you, Ginny, and I love your family as my own. I don’t really know what I feel right now; I’m kind of numb, but I do know I want to help you through this. You’ve always been there for me; please let me help you and give you whatever you need."

She reached up and kissed his cheek. "You always do. You’ve come a long way, Harry."

They turned and began walking towards the service, hand in hand. "Harry, I need to use the loo to wash my face. I’ll be right out," Ginny said. He watched her as she ran up the castle steps and disappeared inside. He turned when he felt a tentative touch on his sleeve.

"Hullo, Harry," Cho said, lowering her eyelashes demurely.

"Cho," he said, nodding. "How are you?"

"I’m…well…as good as can be expected," she replied, glancing towards the tent, where most of the guests were still clustered.

"I didn’t know you were close to any of the Weasleys."

Cho shrugged and brushed her hair back off her shoulder. "I’ve worked with both Fred and George several times for the Order. How are you, Harry? I know you’ve always been close with the family." She still hadn’t let go of his sleeve, and she tightened her grip when she asked this question.

"I’m okay. I’m more worried about Ginny," he said, trying to disengage himself from her grip. Cho wasn’t taking the hint, and she refused to let go.

"Oh. So…you two are still together, then?" she asked, looking deeply into his eyes. "I was thinking that maybe you and I could-"

"Yes." Ginny’s angry voice sounded behind them. Harry whirled to see her eyes blazing. Cho still had a vice-grip on his arm. "We are still together, and very happy. Thank you so much for keeping him company while I was gone, Cho."

Cho’s eyes narrowed. "I was just catching up with an old friend."

"I can see that," Ginny said, staring at Cho’s hand until she was forced to let go of Harry’s arm. "You’ll excuse me if I don’t feel like getting into a catfight over my boyfriend at my brother’s memorial service. Excuse us, Cho"

Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and stormed toward the tent to join the rest of Ginny’s brothers, who were huddled in a group with Hermione, Jacqueline, and Katie Bell.

"Ginny," Harry said, afraid she was angry with him. He really didn’t want to upset her today.

"I know it’s not your fault, Harry. I’m just not in the mood to play nice," she growled.

"There you are," Bill said. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," Ginny said, taking a deep breath and pulling herself together. "We just needed to get away for a few minutes. How’s Mum doing?"

Before Bill could answer, the voice of another brother sounded – a brother no one had heard from for several months. "She doesn’t look like she’s handling it well at all. How could she?"

They all turned towards Percy, who was standing stiffly with his jaw set in anger. A tall woman with a pinched-looking face and a long nose, which she used to look down on them all, was standing with him. Harry supposed this was Percy’s fiancée, Priscilla Fudge.

"Percy," Ginny gasped.

Percy’s eyes raked over all of them, coming to rest finally on Harry. He continued to glare as he said, "This shouldn’t have happened. Charlie should never have been in that position."

"Not now, Percy," Bill said, his shoulders tensing.

"Not now. When, then? At the next funeral? Can’t you see that the longer you remain close to him, it will always end this way? I warned Mother and Father about this over a year ago, but they wouldn’t listen. I prayed it wouldn’t take a death to make them see reason, but even afterwards, after one of our family did die, he’s still here. If you supposedly love this family so much, how can you let it be ripped apart like this?" he demanded, glaring at Harry.

Harry had raised his head in defiance; he knew Percy was grieving, too, and he wasn’t going to argue with him, not here, not now. Still, his words struck a painful chord within him. It was true; the Weasleys would never have been on that island if it weren’t for their desire to protect him.

"That’s enough, Percy," said Mr. Weasley, who had walked up behind them.

Percy turned and faced his father, but the anger and the arrogance did not fade from his face. "Hello, Father."

"Hello, son. This is a day to honor Charlie’s memory, and we won’t do that by fighting amongst ourselves."

"I wasn’t fighting with my family, I was arguing with him," Percy said, jerking his thumb towards Harry.

"Harry is part of our family, Percy," Ron said, taking a step closer to Harry.

Harry didn’t want this; he didn’t want to cause a row within the Weasley family, especially not on this day. He tried to take a step backwards, to pull away quietly, but neither Ron nor Ginny would let him move.

"We’re all family, Percy. Please come over and say hello to your mother," Mr. Weasley said, sighing. "It would really mean a lot to her."

Slipping an arm around Priscilla’s waist, Percy nodded and followed his father to the circle of people surrounding Mrs. Weasley.

"Git," Fred said, kicking the ground with force.

"You’re more of a brother to us than he is, mate," Ron said, still glaring towards Percy.

Harry felt sick. No matter how much he wanted Ron’s words about being a brother to be true, he didn’t want it to be at the cost of losing another brother from Ron’s family. They’d done so much for him, sacrificed so much already.

"Don’t let him get to you, Harry," Ginny said quietly. "You have no control over how he feels, nor how the rest of us feel. Our choices are clear, and they are our own. Why do you have such a hard time understanding that the love you feel for us is the same love we feel for you?"

Harry gave her a weak smile but looked away. Ginny sighed but took his hand. "I’m tired, and I want to go home," she said.

Harry put his arm around her, glad to have something that he could help her do. "Come on; we’ll see about getting the portkey back."

The next few days at Grimmauld Place were strange. After the service, it was as if life picked back up normally, and everyone else went about his or her business. It was just the Weasley family who seemed to be lost in a kind of time warp, going through the motions of ordinary living, but unable to shake the feeling that everything was wrong. The twins returned to their joke shop, Bill went back to work on the books, even Mr. Weasley returned to the Ministry. Ron continued to drift, but Mrs. Weasley was the worst of all. She didn’t seem to care much about anything happening around headquarters. She rarely even entered the kitchen anymore, and, for the first time Harry could ever remember since knowing her, she wasn’t aware of what everyone else was eating.

After a week of this, Harry decided he needed to take Ginny’s advice and at least try to talk to her. His stomach knotted at the thought, but he didn’t know why. He could see the worry in Ginny’s eyes, and he wanted to help. Both Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had pulled him through the loss of Sirius; he needed to find some way to help them through this. Ginny hadn’t asked much of him besides some extra time and physical contact, which he was happy to provide. The only thing she had outright asked of him was to try and talk to her Mum, so he was determined to try.

He knocked on the door to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s bedroom. Mrs. Weasley spent most of her time there. He felt awkward about it, but pushed those misgivings away. His heart pounded and a gigantic knot twisted in his stomach. What if Percy’s words at the service had made her finally see that he was a danger to her family? Harry didn’t think he’d survive seeing rejection in her eyes.

"Who’s there?" Mrs. Weasley called. Her voice sounded soft and listless, as if she didn’t really care who was knocking.

"It’s Harry, Mrs. Weasley," he said, holding his breath.

She was silent for a moment, but he could hear her moving around behind the door. After a moment, she said, "Come in, dear."

He entered the room to find her sitting on the couch in her sitting area. She was knitting a jumper, although it looked as if she hadn’t been paying close attention, for the stitches were loose and unaligned. She was still wearing her dressing gown, even though it was well into the afternoon.

"Hi," he said, shutting the door behind him and gingerly inching his way across the floor. He felt awkward and unsure, now that he was actually here. What had made him think he could ever possibly say anything to help her feel better? This was a stupid idea.

"What can I do for you, dear?" she asked. Her eyes looked red-rimmed and tired.

"Nothing. I, er…I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I’ll be fine. Are you ready to go back to school?" she asked.

He knew she was trying to change the subject and put the focus back on him. It was a tactic he used all the time. "Yeah, Remus got all my stuff in Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley…er…I mean…um…when Sirius died, I didn’t want to come out of my room, either. I wanted everyone to go away and leave me alone." Harry swallowed nervously, but he noticed she was listening to him intently. "I…er, I felt like I was still there, but all my insides were gone. It wasn’t until I came back here…back with all of you, that…er…well, things got better. You all helped me so much, more than you’ll ever know. I’d like to help you now, if you’ll let me." He whispered the last words, slightly afraid she was going to yell at him for intruding.

"Thank you, Harry, but I’ll be fine," Mrs. Weasley said. The tone of her voice still sounded hollow.

"I know it feels like you just don’t care anymore, like you’ve had enough…but it really does get better. You start to remember some of the nice things…um…instead of just what makes you feel sad."

Mrs. Weasley smiled a little; her eyes seemed to be focused on something far away. "You’re right about that. I remember," she whispered.

Harry looked at her curiously, uncertain about what she was referring. She smiled at him sadly and rested her hand on his own.

"Charlie isn’t the first loss I’ve suffered in this bloody war with You-Know-Who. My oldest brother, Gideon, was one of the early casualties in the first war. I remember how it broke my mother’s heart; she didn’t recover from it for a long time. Near the end, I lost a second brother. My family was hardened by all the loss at that point, but it was still devastating. I remember some of those feelings you’re talking about."

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. "When I was little, when things got really ba…um…when things…when I was ‘not fine’," he said with an ironic smile, finally settling on the words. He saw Mrs. Weasley smile genuinely for the first time in a long time. "I’d always wondered what things would have been like if …if it hadn’t happened the way it did. During the day, you can make yourself numb, but everything always comes back at night. Sometimes, though…sometimes in the morning it all seemed better. I always wondered if they’d visited me when I was sleeping."

Harry’s voice had drifted until it was nearly inaudible by the end. He’d never admitted that to anyone. He could see big tears rolling down Mrs. Weasleys cheeks, but he tried not to panic. She gently swiped at them, but didn’t seem too upset, so he continued.

"I asked Sir Nicholas – you know, the Gryffindor ghost – I asked him about how someone could come back as a ghost after Sirius died. He said that Sirius wouldn’t…that he didn’t have a problem leaving this world. I struggled with that for a long time, but…er…now, that kind of makes me feel better, knowing that he didn’t come back because he was happy. I like to think that he’s with my parents now – and that they’re busy playing pranks and driving everyone else batty." Harry chuckled a bit at this, but felt a few stray tears making silent tracks down his own face. Mrs. Weasley casually swiped at Harry’s tears as she had her own.

"I don’t think Charlie will come back as a ghost, either, Mrs. Weasley," he said quietly. His throat felt very raw. "Charlie was one of the most easy-going, cheerful people I’ve ever met. I don’t think he would have been afraid to move on. Dumbledore once told me it’s the next great adventure, and I think Charlie always liked an adventure."

Mrs. Weasley was openly crying now. Harry was afraid he’d really messed this up. He knew he was rubbish with giving comfort. How had he let Ginny talk him into this? He was ready to bolt from the room and go look for help, when Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arms around him, trapping him there. He patted her back awkwardly, afraid to say anything else.

"Harry…my dear, sweet, Harry." She pulled back and looked him straight in the eye. "Thank you."

Harry wasn’t certain what she was thanking him for, but she didn’t sound angry, and he thought that was good. Mrs. Weasley sniffed and wiped again at her eyes.

"I’m hungry, Harry. What do you say we go down to the kitchen and make some pudding?"

Harry grinned. "I don’t know, Mrs. Weasley. It’s nearly dinnertime."

Mrs. Weasley smiled and fondly ruffled his hair. "Let’s have pudding for dinner tonight," she whispered, winking at him. "What do you say?"

"Will you make a treacle tart? No one makes them like you do."

She put her knuckles around his nose and pulled. "Why, you little charmer. Harry, I never would have suspected that you would know exactly what strings to pull so I couldn’t resist. One treacle tart coming up," she said, laughing. The two linked arms and headed downstairs.

When they entered the kitchen, Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Professor Dumbledore. Both he and Mrs. Weasley stopped short, taking in the surprised look on the faces of the others. Harry glanced warily at Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes were still red and puffy, and he imagined it was obvious he’d been crying, as well. He’d assumed the kitchen would be empty.

Ginny perked up in her chair, casting a small, relieved smile Harry’s way. He nodded at her, but couldn’t help the apprehension he felt with the others in the room.

"Albus," Mrs. Weasley said, surprised. She also seemed stunned by the crowd in the kitchen. "I didn’t realize you were going to be here tonight."

"How are you, Molly?" he asked pleasantly. His glasses slipped slightly down his nose, and he gazed piercingly at Harry over them.

Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a small smile. "I’m better tonight, thank you."

"I am most delighted to hear it," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I have several pieces of news I thought it better to deliver in person." He looked pointedly at Harry.

Harry sighed. What now? "Whatever it is, you can say it in front of them; they’re family," he said, returning Mrs. Weasley’s smile.

"Very well. I have some news that I think will be of great interest to you. The Ministry has finally finished with its investigation of the battle that occurred at Malfoy Manor."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, and Harry felt his pulse rate quicken with the memory of that place. He pulled out a chair and dropped down into it, grasping the edge of the table. Ginny placed her hand on his back, calming him.

"The remains of Peter Pettigrew have been clearly identified and confirmed. Fudge has no choice but to clear Sirius posthumously of all charges," Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes losing some of their sparkle.

Harry blinked like an owl, barely even breathing. It was amazing to him that, even after a whole year, even after everything he had said upstairs to Mrs. Weasley, the loss of Sirius still had the power to hurt so much, as if it had just happened yesterday. "Thank you," he whispered, not completely trusting his voice.

"I wish it could have been done a long time ago, Harry. I wish there were some way to make it right, but this is the best I can do," Dumbledore said sadly.

Harry nodded.

"Cornelius Fudge has given up his bid to take over your training. However, he will have a Ministry observer at Hogwarts to keep him apprised of your progress," Dumbledore said, already holding up his hand to calm Harry’s rising fury. "I had to concede on this point, Harry. We will let the observer witness only what we feel is acceptable. Fudge still has made no promise that he will not take the contents of the prophecy to the Daily Prophet, but he has not done so yet. We need to ensure that whatever he is told, it is safe for public knowledge. The existence of the ancient texts, and what we may find in them, has to remain our secret."

Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair. He was already so frustrated, and the thought of the prophecy appearing in the paper filled him with dread. Ginny tightened her hand on his shoulder in support.

"How is the research on the texts coming along, Professor?" Hermione asked.

With a flick of his hand, Dumbledore cast a Silencing Charm on the kitchen and gave Hermione a nod. "I believe Emmeline has narrowed it down to a particular volume. She is still deciphering some of the wording, but I believe we way be on to something. You are all aware that Voldemort used a variety of methods in his quest for immortality. I believe we may have discovered a way around what he has done."

Harry’s head snapped up, eyes wide and heart racing.

"Albus," Mr. Weasley said. "Why haven’t you mentioned this to the Order?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, Arthur, my sources indicate that Voldemort is aware that we may have this text in our possession."

Mrs. Weasley, who had quietly been moving about the kitchen while making the treacle tart, spun around to face them. "What? How?"

"I do not know. Harry, I do not want you to worry over this. We’ve placed the texts in a secure location. They are quite well hidden and protected, as you will be in a few days, when you return to Hogwarts."

The anger that Harry had controlled for so long bubbled beneath the surface as he struggled to control it. Maybe it was thinking about Sirius, maybe it was all the stress over the past few weeks over Charlie’s loss, maybe it was just the feeling that, once again, he was being kept in the dark, but his anger burst forth from him before he could stop it. "I’ve heard that before."

"I understand your anger, but you have to trust me when I say that these books are well hidden," Dumbledore said, sighing.

"You’ll forgive me if I don’t have a lot of faith in the Fidelius Charm," Harry said without missing a beat. His statement was met with complete silence in the kitchen. Even Dumbledore looked away from his heated gaze. He saw flickers of pain cross all their faces, and his anger evaporated. These weren’t the people he was angry with; it was Voldemort. It was always Voldemort.

He put his hands over his face and rubbed his tired eyes under his glasses. Ginny leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her. Noticing some letters on the table, he grasped onto the change in subject and asked, "Are those our Hogwarts letters?"

Dumbledore handed one to each of the four students. "I held on to them while you were away, since we did not want to send an owl to the island."

Hermione’s shriek pierced the room, as she held a shiny badge with the initials HG in her hand. "I got Head Girl." She was the only one who seemed surprised by the news.

"Of course you did, it has your initials right on it. Hermione Granger – Head Girl, like I always said, same thing. I wonder who got Head Boy?" Ron said, pulling his prefect badge from his envelope.

Ginny gasped, as a badge fell out of her envelope, as well. "Oh, Ginny," her mother shouted in delight, pleasure written all over her face. "You made prefect."

Ginny’s eyes caught Professor Dumbledore’s. "But I wasn’t a prefect last-" Ginny cut herself off, as she realized what happened. One of her roommates, Emily, had been the prefect. Emily was Muggleborn, and her family had been caught in one of the attacks during the summer. Emily had been killed. Ginny pulled another letter from her envelope and took a deep breath. She was quiet as she read her results.

Harry remembered everyone telling him Ginny wasn’t doing well on her OWLs because he’d been unconscious during most of them. He was nearly as anxious as she was for the results; he didn’t want to be the cause of her doing poorly.

"Well?" he asked, when she remained silent.

"Nine," she said simply. "Not as bad as I thought, although the overall grades are mostly Acceptables."

Loud cheers erupted in the room, and, although everyone was still slightly subdued, it still made quite a racket. These were Weasleys, after all.

Harry was the last to open his letter. Stunned didn’t even begin to describe how he felt when the shiny Head Boy badge fell out. He left it sitting on the table while he stared at it stupidly.

"Harry! Is that what I think it is?" Hermione finally shouted.

"Ha! I told you on the train at the end of term that I thought you’d get it," Ron exclaimed.

Harry looked at Professor Dumbledore in confusion. "But I wasn’t even a prefect."

"There is no rule that says Head Boy has to have been a prefect. With the creation of your DA, you have done more to unite the four houses than any other student in the history of Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat has stressed for the past two years how important this is. This year, it is more critical than ever…you deserve this, Harry. It is rightfully earned, and I have no reservations that it is deserved."

"Way to go, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the back. "Now, if any of the Slytherins give you a hard time, you can just take a load of points." Realizing what he’d just said, Ron glanced warily at Professor Dumbledore, who pretended he hadn’t heard.

"Oh, Harry, congratulations," Hermione said, kissing him on the cheek.

Ginny plopped in his lap and kissed him right on the lips. He panicked, because her parents and the headmaster were in the room. They were all beaming at him, however.

"This year is going to be amazing," Ginny said. "I think I’m ready to return to school."

Chapter Twelve: Back Where We Belong

On the day before they were due to return to Hogwarts, Ron and Harry were scheduled to take their Apparation tests. Ron had kept the fact he’d been practicing with Harry a secret, so the rest of the Weasleys were shocked when he said he was ready to reapply for his license.

Harry had thought Ron was ready; they’d practiced on the island, and Ron could easily handle even long distances. However, once the announcement was made, the twins instantly began teasing him, and Mrs. Weasley started quizzing him. Ron completely panicked under the pressure from his family, and Harry worried that he was in danger of failing again. Even Ginny’s light teasing seemed to unnerve Ron so that he couldn’t concentrate. Hermione tried to be encouraging, but in typical Hermione fashion she started listing off facts and rehashing the results of her own Apparation test. Ron finally lashed out at her, and she ended up storming out of the room. Grimmauld Place had rattled with the number of slamming doors for the remainder of the afternoon.

On the morning of the test, Mr. Weasley entered Ron and Harry’s room to wake them. Harry was already awake when he entered; he’d had a miserable night, and his scar was burning intensely. Mr. Weasley’s face was grim, alerting Harry that something was wrong. Ron, still trying to hold on to the last remnants of sleep by keeping his head beneath the covers, missed the look entirely.

"Good morning, boys. I’m sorry to wake you so early," Mr. Weasley said, sitting down on the edge of Ron’s bed.

Ron peeked out from beneath his pillow and blearily opened one eye. "What time is it?"

"Early," Mr. Weasley said, sighing. "I just received a call from the Ministry, and I’m going to have to go in now. I know we were planning on heading in together later so you boys could take your exams, but there’s been a change. I’m afraid they’ve had to postpone all Apparation licensing. I’m sorry, I know you’ve been looking forward to this. We’ll get you rescheduled as soon as things settle down."

"What?" Ron shouted, sitting up in bed and glaring at his father.

Mr. Weasley raised his hands in defense. "Take it easy, Ron. There’s been a situation and all non-essential operations have been closed temporarily."

"What does that mean?" Ron demanded.

"What happened, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked. He suspected it had something to do with the reason his scar had burned with such intensity during the night.

"There was a series of Death Eater attacks last night," Mr. Weasley said, sighing again. "They were directed at Muggle-born Ministry officials and their families. The Ministry is in chaos, trying to cover all the sites and deal with its own losses. We lost a lot of good people last night."

Ron and Harry remained silent, the impact of Mr. Wesley’s words sinking in to their sleep-addled brains. They were truly at war. After Mr. Weasley left, they lay in their beds discussing the attacks for a while. Eventually, their conversation turned back towards Ron’s Apparation test. Harry was slightly disappointed, but not nearly as down as Ron.

"At least you can take the test without having to tell everyone about the appointment. It should be less stressful," Harry said, trying to look on the bright side. He actually thought the postponement was the best thing for Ron. They could reschedule the test while they were at school and away from the pressure Ron felt from his family. Harry thought Ron would do much better without the twins there to tease him about the test.

"What do you mean, less stressful?" Ron asked, scowling at his friend.

"I just thought…er, well, if the twins didn’t tease you, you wouldn’t be nervous," Harry stammered, seeing how red Ron’s ears were growing.

"You didn’t think I was going to pass, did you? You thought I’d screw this up, too. Thanks, Harry; you’re support is overwhelming," Ron snarled, getting out of bed and stalking towards the door. "Of course, you got special training to make sure you could Apparate before you were legal. It would have saved us both a lot of trouble if they’d thought to teach all of us. Don’t tell me you couldn’t have got away the first time you escaped if it weren’t for the fact that I was still there!"

Ron’s words were like a slap in the face, mostly because they were true. If Ron had been taught to Apparate, they might have escaped from Malfoy Manor on their own. Harry hadn’t realized how much Ron resented it. Now that he thought about it, he needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore about teaching Ginny early. "Ron…you’re right; I should have made certain you were taught when I was trained. I couldn’t have left you anymore than you could have left me. We all made mistakes. Professor Dumbledore thought it better to keep the skill quiet at the time."

"Yeah, if you don’t think I can do it now, you’d never have believed I’d be competent enough to learn early."

"Ron, wait," Harry said. "I know you can do it; I didn’t mean that-"

"No? Well, that’s certainly how it sounded, mate," Ron interrupted, emphasizing the last word. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry sighed and flopped back down on his bed. You handled that brilliantly as usual, Potter. His inner voice sounded remarkably like Snape at that moment.

Ron avoided Harry for the rest of the day. Harry got ready for bed with a heavy heart. He was anxious to return to school, but he didn’t want to be on bad terms with Ron on the first day.

Ginny awoke during the night and decided to head down to the kitchen for a drink of water. She always had trouble sleeping the night before the journey to Hogwarts. She’d end up tossing and turning, thinking of the day ahead with both apprehension and excitement. This would be the last year with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the school; she thought that next year would be very lonely for her, indeed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this year would be significant. Harry would complete his magical training…Voldemort knew about the prophecy…the final battle loomed ahead of them. She felt like they were all on a collision course, and they’d already passed the last turnoff. There could be no turning back.

She was terrified for Harry, yet she sensed some kind of change within him. It had started around the time of his birthday. His power had increased, but his sense of purpose had also intensified. He was eager to end this war; he wanted to move on with his life, with their life together. Ginny wasn’t certain what she’d be able to do to help him, but she was determined to find a way. She wouldn’t lose him, not after all they’d gone through. Tom had put Harry through hell from the time he was a baby; Harry deserved the chance for a good life that had always been denied him.

She crept out of bed, careful not to wake Hermione, and tiptoed silently down the stairs towards the kitchen. As she passed the drawing room, she noticed a faint light coming from beneath the door. Pressing her ear to the door, she thought she heard a muffled groan. Cursing under her breath for leaving her wand behind, she gently pushed open the door and peered through the crack.

Harry was lying on the couch, curled on his side into a defensive ball. He was muttering in his sleep and thrashing his head from side to side. Ginny’s heart ached when she looked at him. She’d noticed that he always slept in that position, as if trying to protect himself during sleep, when he was most vulnerable. Her eyes flicked to all the candles left burning in the room – that was another thing she’d noticed recently. Harry always kept a light burning, even when he slept. It was so unfair that he’d been forced to live like this. He was truly one of the most kind-hearted, gentle people she knew, and he was always being hunted like an animal. She hated to see the toll it was taking on him. During the day, he was one of the bravest, toughest people she’d ever seen, but at night, his demons always returned to haunt him – and he still tried to hide that fact from everyone else. It physically hurt her to see him this way.

She and Hermione had talked about the effect Harry’s upbringing had had on him. Her friend had asked her if Harry had talked to her at all about his life with his so-called caregivers. Without giving away any confidences, Ginny had told her about the conversation they’d had after the Dursleys were killed, and that Harry had tried to say whatever they did to him was his own fault. Hermione had shared her fears about what both Ron and Harry were going through and her research on what she called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Ginny wasn’t certain if everything worked the same for wizards and Muggles, but from what Hermione had said, it sounded very similar.

Ginny moved to the side of the couch and gently sat down next to Harry. She stretched her body alongside him and wrapped her arms around him, forcing his body to straighten out. He awoke almost instantly, startled by the contact.

Looking around the room wildly, his eyes raked over her body lying there with him. "Ginny?" he whispered, his voice sounded young and fragile. "Where are we?"

"Shhh, luv, it’s all right. We’re in the drawing room; you must have fallen asleep down here. You were having a nightmare," Ginny answered, stroking the hair on his forehead.

His breathing was ragged, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Although stiff at first, he eventually settled and relaxed into her embrace. "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Did I wake you?" he asked, sounding as if he were on the fringes of sleep once again.

"No. I’m too excited to sleep. We’ll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to seeing everyone."

"Yeah," he said, but she could sense his apprehension. Everyone knew about his captivity at the end of last term; she supposed he was worried about the reception he was going to receive.

"Everyone is bound to be curious about what happened to you, Harry, but you don’t have to talk about anything if you’re not ready. You’ve been the subject of their speculation before; you can handle it."

"How do you do that? How do you always know what I’m thinking?" he asked, snuggling closer to her. A slight smile played on his lips, and she could tell he was pleased.

"Because I love you," she said without hesitation, "and you’re not nearly as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are."

"Oh, really?"

"Nope. Your eyes give you away. I’ve heard an expression that the eyes are the window to the soul, and I never really understood what that meant until I met you."

Harry opened one eye to look at her sleepily. "Tell me, oh wise one, what do you see when you gaze into my eyes?"

Ginny giggled at his horrible interpretation of Trelawney. "I see a very brave…a very sweet…and a very stubborn person that completely holds my heart. I wish you could see yourself as we see you, Harry. You’re terribly hard on yourself. These past few weeks have been so terrible for all of us, and you’ve really helped, in your own way. And I don’t just mean you’ve helped Mum. You’ve helped me, too. I know I’ve been acting rather mad these past few weeks – overly cheerful one minute, then nearly bursting into tears the next. But I didn’t want to be told it was all right. I didn’t want to hear anything, really. I wanted to be held and allowed to sort it out. I’m not there yet, but it’s better. And you were the one who gave me that time I needed."

Ginny shook her head, as if forcing her thoughts away. "As for what I think you need – it’s to accept that we all love you as much as you love us. Let the inner-Harry out sometimes and tell us what you’re feeling. He’s a good bloke."

Harry felt a huge lump in his throat, and he swallowed painfully. "The inner-Harry, huh?" he croaked. "Is this bloke the reason you hang around?"

Ginny turned on her side to face him, her teeth gently tugging on his bottom lip. "I like the inner-Harry very much," she whispered, kissing him passionately.

Harry rolled over and clutched onto her as if he were drowning. He had no idea how much time had passed before he noticed the faint traces of dawn’s early light peeking through the window. He suddenly realized they were snogging on the couch in the drawing room with the door wide open for anyone to see.

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, willing his body to calm down. "Are you mad? The rest of the Order is constantly in and out of here, and most of them are your very large older brothers."

Ginny giggled. "I didn’t notice you complaining. I love how you’re planning to duel Tom, but the thought of getting caught snogging by my brothers puts that panicked expression on your face."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "It’s not so much your brothers, but what your mother will do to me when they tell her."

"Do to you? Be serious, Harry. It’s me she’ll send to a convent. You can do no wrong," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Harry beamed. "She does like me, huh?"

Ginny could still hear that slight tone of wonder in his voice, and the biting comment she was about to make died in her throat. "Yes, Harry. She really does."

Harry awoke later that morning when he heard the sounds of footsteps on the stairway. He was still lying on the couch in the drawing room. Ginny had spent most of the night with him, snogging him senseless. He was incredibly tired, but he still thought it had been worth it. She’d gone back up to her own room, and he tried to grab a short catnap before the chaos ensued. It felt like he’d only just shut his eyes when he heard Mrs. Weasley shouting at Ron to get out of bed and finish packing.

He sat up and blindly searched for his glasses. He’d finished his packing the day before, so all he needed to do was take a shower. He was about to head up and see if the shower was free when Remus entered the room and sat down on the couch with him. He glanced around the room, his eyes resting on the still-lit lanterns. Harry felt his skin grow warm; he was still having trouble with the pitch-black darkness of Grimmauld Place at night.

"Are you ready to return to school, Harry?" Remus asked, although Harry could tell there was more on his mind.

"Yeah, I’m ready to go. I just need to shower and change. I was on my way to do that," he replied.

"Did you sleep down here last night?" Remus asked.

"Yeah."

"Any particular reason?"

"Ron’s hacked off at me. I was planning to wait until he fell asleep before going to bed myself, but I must have nodded off." Harry was uncomfortable under the intensity of Remus’s stare.

"Harry," Remus said, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself for something. "We haven’t had as much opportunity to discuss things as I would have liked. With everything that happened on Privet Drive, then with Charlie…well, time seems to have got away from me. I’m concerned about you, Harry."

"I’m fine, Remus, really."

"No, you’re not. You wouldn’t have blown apart your birthday party if you weren’t so on edge. I’ve alerted Minerva to the situation," Remus said, his body stiffening for the coming explosion. He didn’t have to wait long.

"You what?" Harry shouted, jumping up off the couch and twirling to stand face-to-face with Remus.

"Take it easy, Harry. She’s your Head of House, and I thought it prudent to have someone aware of what’s been happening. She’s going to talk to Poppy to make certain you get a Dreamless Sleep Potion at least twice a week. You need your rest, particularly if you’re going to be training. I know you’re angry with me – I expected you to be – but I did it, anyway. You need a support system, Harry, and I’m going to see that you get it. I’ve been lax about it for far too long."

Harry was furious. He didn’t want Professor McGonagall hovering over him and watching him like a hawk to see if he was going to crack. He was fine – or, at least, he would be. Remus had no right to interfere this way.

"There is nothing to talk about," Harry snarled.

"You need to talk about what happened at Malfoy Manor," Remus said gently.

"You know what happened. They weren’t exactly hospitable hosts, but I survived."

"Barely," Remus pressed.

Harry felt the walls closing in on him again, and his breathing became labored. "Let it go, Remus. There is nothing wrong with me. Lots of people don’t like dark, closed-in spaces." Harry was warring with the images in his head, struggling to keep the flashbacks at bay.

"That’s true, but most of those fears are irrational. Yours aren’t, and there are specific reasons behind them. The only way you’ll put it behind you, Harry, is to confront it head on, regardless of how difficult that may be. Talk to Ginny, if that’s easier, but you need to talk to someone," Remus pleaded.

Harry let some of his anger go; he knew Remus truly was trying to help. Thinking about the time spent in captivity at Malfoy Manor caused a shudder to run up his spine, but it also triggered a memory from the fight on the island.

"Remus…when I was fighting the Death Eaters on the island, I…er, well, I know it couldn’t be true, but…I thought I recognized one of them," Harry said, hoping he wouldn’t sound stupid.

"And?" Remus prompted.

"Well, I thought it was Lucius Malfoy, but he’s dead, right?"

Remus was silent for a moment. A moment that lasted longer than Harry would have liked. "Remus?"

Remus sighed. "I don’t know, Harry."

"What do you mean? I was told Tonks killed him during the battle. I saw her dueling with him," Harry said, a hint of desperation in his voice. The image of Lucius’s scowling face loomed in the back of his mind. He’d liked to toy with Harry before torturing him, like a cat playing with a mouse before devouring it. Did that hurt, Harry? Have you learned your place yet?

Remus looked right into his eyes, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling he could read his thoughts. "Tonks did duel and kill her opponent at Malfoy Manor. However, after it was over, when we went back for the clean up and to identify the bodies, Malfoy wasn’t one of them."

"I don’t understand. How could that happen?" Harry asked. "Did someone take his body?"

"We had the right number of bodies, only Lucius wasn’t among them. We suspect that whomever it was Tonks was dueling with was under a Polyjuice potion," Remus said, sighing.

"So, Lucius Malfoy is still alive?" Harry whispered, feeling like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. He stumbled back to the couch and sunk down upon it.

Remus sat beside him. "Our sources haven’t been able to give us any confirmation either way, and no one has seen him since. But you say you thought it was him on the island?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered, his mind going back to that horrible day. "There was something familiar about the Death Eater I fought before I jumped off that arch. I could see some blond hair coming out from the mask. Then, he spoke to me, and the voice sounded like Lucius Malfoy." Harry shuddered again.

Remus laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "I’m going to go inform Professor Dumbledore. He’ll probably want to speak with you after the feast tonight to give you your training schedule."

Harry bit his lip and looked away. "Remus…what if…these flashbacks keep distracting me? What if when it comes time to battle…what if I freeze up?" Harry asked. The question had been on his mind a lot lately.

"You won’t. You’ve always been good in a fight, Harry. You think on your feet, which is a very important skill to have. You tend to worry too much beforehand and afterwards, but during the fight itself, you’re always in the game. You didn’t freeze up during the fight on the island, did you?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. That was true. His senses had been on heightened alert during the battle.

Remus patted Harry on the shoulder. "I’m going to go inform Albus about Malfoy."

Harry nodded numbly. Lucius Malfoy had escaped; he is still alive. Harry’s mind struggled under the weight of processing this information. Ron wouldn’t take this news well, either. Why hadn’t anyone told them? That would be something else to discuss with his secretive headmaster.

By the time the rest of the house had awakened and the traditional chaos ensued, they were once again late getting to King’s Cross. They crossed the barrier with only a few minutes to spare. Hermione wore her Head Girl badge pinned proudly to her jumper, while Harry kept his badge tucked inside his pocket. The platform was quiet, as most of the students had already boarded the train.

Harry turned to Remus and gave him a one-armed hug. "Take care of yourself, Remus."

"You, too, Harry. Send me an owl to let me know how you’re settling in. Don’t be reckless. Stay focused and finish your training, and try not to worry so much." Remus swallowed heavily, as if there were a lot more he’d like to say, but he held himself back.

Harry nodded. It wasn’t as if he ever intended to be reckless. Things always sort of just happened that way.

Mrs. Weasley, who had finished crying over Ron and Ginny, turned towards Harry. She gave him a bone-crushing hug that completely cut off his air circulation. "Take care of yourself, dear, and keep an eye on Ginny. Be certain to tell Professor Dumbledore if you notice anything suspicious. We’re so proud of you."

Mr. Weasley shook his hand, looked directly in his eyes, and kept his voice low so Mrs. Weasley, who had turned towards Hermione, wouldn’t hear. "I want to thank you for talking with Molly. You helped her more than you’ll ever know, and I appreciate it. You have a good heart, Harry. You’re an incredibly decent young man, and I couldn’t have picked a better match for my daughter if I’d chosen you myself."

Harry blinked rapidly and ducked his head. "She means the world to me, Mr. Weasley, and I’ll do everything within my power to keep her safe."

"I know you will, Harry. What I need you to do is keep yourself safe, because I think losing you would hurt Ginny worst of all. Be safe, for all of us," Mr. Weasley replied, squeezing Harry’s shoulder tightly.

"I’ll do my best, sir," Harry replied, before following the others onto the train. They waved to Remus and the Weasleys as the train pulled out of the station. It was while they slowly departed that Harry noticed the large number of Aurors positioned all over the station watching the train safely depart.

"We need to get up to the front," Hermione said. "There will be a prefect meeting so we can meet the new prefects."

Everyone in the front car looked up as they entered. Harry noticed that none of the others seemed particularly surprised to see him entering with the others, despite the fact that he hadn’t been a prefect. He recognized Colin Creevey, who was Ginny’s sixth-year partner, and Jack Sloper, a new fifth-year prefect for Gryffindor. He knew the face of the fifth-year girl who was with him, but couldn’t remember her name. Blaise Zabini sat in a corner, eyeing Harry with narrowed eyes. Harry wasn’t surprised to see he had taken Malfoy’s position. Zabini sat with Pansy Parkinson, who refused even to look at Harry, and the other Slytherin prefects.

Hermione took over, introducing both Harry and herself, and laying out the expectations for the year to come. She scowled at Harry whenever she glanced his way. He was completely baffled by what he’d done to hack her off. Finally Ginny leaned over and hissed in his ear, "Put your Head Boy badge on, Harry."

Harry had forgotten he had it. He pulled it out and pinned it to his jacket. Hermione seemed pleased.

The meeting dragged on endlessly and was rather tedious. Harry could better understand why Ron was always so cranky after he returned from one. When the questions finally stopped, and everyone seemed anxious to rejoin their classmates, Hermione dismissed them. Ron, Harry, and Ginny waited while Hermione collected her papers.

"Honestly, Harry, you’re as bad as Ron. You could have at least said a few words and told them what you expect for the year," Hermione said, angrily stowing her things in her bag.

"What’s that supposed to mean, as bad as Ron? What did I do now?" Ron asked, his face growing red with anger.

"You spent the entire time staring out the window and cracking that gum," Hermione snapped. "You were very rude."

"So I’m rude and stupid now, am I?" Ron said.

"I didn’t say that. I never called you stupid, Ron. I said you didn’t pay attention. You never do at these prefect meetings." Hermione had obviously reached the limit of her patience with Ron’s outbursts.

"I didn’t know I was supposed to say anything," Harry said, stepping between them and trying to divert an argument. "This was my first one."

"Well, well, well," came a smooth voice from the corner. Blaise Zabini had remained seated and watched the Gryffindors with unconcealed amusement. "Seems like there’s trouble in paradise amongst the famous trio. Summer didn’t agree with you this year?" He stood up and walked over to them, picking up a stray piece of parchment from the floor and handing it to Hermione.

"What do you want, Zabini?" Ron demanded rudely.

"You seem like you’re on an even shorter fuse than normal, Weasley. You’d think you’d be much happier after finally getting rid of Draco," Zabini said, his blue eyes glinting.

Harry stepped in front of Ron. "That’s enough."

The Slytherin eyed Harry up and down very slowly. "I’ve heard a lot of stories about you over the holiday, Potter. Each tale I hear is more outrageous than the last. Still, most rumors start with a grain of truth in there somewhere. I haven’t quite figured you out, yet."

Harry didn’t answer. His eyes remaining locked with Zabini’s in silent battle. Ron moved to stand next to Harry. "I’m certain your Death Eater friends gave you their whole embellished spin. What more do you want?" Ron asked.

Zabini turned those cold, emotionless eyes towards Ron and eyed him silently for several moments before speaking. "I’m not a Death Eater, but any fool can see that this battle somehow centers between Potter and You-Know-Who. I freely admit that I agree with the Dark Lord’s ideals, if not his methods. I don’t agree with the violence, and not everyone in Slytherin is a Death Eater. That’s not to say we don’t see things differently than you do. Nothing is ever clearly black and white; reality is colored in shades of gray."

"There is nothing gray about his hatred for Muggle-borns," Hermione said, looking down her nose at the offending Slytherin.

"His methods are wrong; I’m not arguing with that," Zabini said smoothly.

"But you do agree that Muggle-borns don’t belong at Hogwarts?" Ginny asked, planting her hands on her hips.

"Yes. I believe magical education should remain in the pure magical families, and I won’t apologize for how I feel about that. I’m not campaigning to go out and kill anyone, merely to honor the purity of the bloodlines. I’m entitled to my opinion in the same way you are entitled to yours," Zabini said, nodding and leaving the compartment.

Harry sank into a chair, resting his head in his hands.

"Harry?" Ginny said, kneeling next to him.

"This whole war might be doomed from the start. Even if I somehow manage to defeat Voldemort, it won’t change that attitude. It might cause them to hide and cover their feelings for a while, but it won’t change anything, and, sooner or later, someone else will take over the role of Dark Lord," Harry said. He sighed, feeling a wave of hopelessness.

"Don’t think about that," Ginny said, taking his hands in her own. "Your job is to think about Voldemort, not worry about the next Dark Lord. That will be another battle on another day – and hopefully for another person. There is always evil in the world; you can’t change that. Zabini has his head stuck so far in the sand that he’s not even worth the effort. How can anyone say that Hermione or anyone like her shouldn’t be taught at Hogwarts simply because her parents are Muggles? She’s a witch, and a thumping good one. She has more intelligence in her pinky finger than he does in his whole slimy Slytherin body. Voldemort is more than a differing political opinion; he’s a monster. Both you and I know that first hand."

Harry took a deep breath. "You’re right, Ginny. Keep reminding me of that, okay?"

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione said quietly.

"What did you do that for?" Ron demanded, his voice angry as he moved to face Harry.

Harry was lost as to why Ron was angry at him now. "Do what?"

"Stand in front of me when Zabini made that comment about Malfoy. Didn’t think I was up to the challenge, eh? Thought you had to step in and fight my battle for me, did you?"

"What? No! He was out of line, and I know it’s a painful subject. I was trying to help…you’ve done the same for me," Harry said, backtracking.

"Ron, back off," Ginny said, putting her hands on her hips in much the same way Mrs. Weasley always did when she was angry.

"Stay out of it, Ginny; this doesn’t concern you," Ron snapped.

"Don’t talk to her that way," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. "Look, Ron, I know you’re still upset about Charlie, and I don’t want to fight with you. Taking it out on all of us isn’t going to make the loss go away; it—"

"What do you know about loss? You don’t know what it feels like to lose a brother right in front of you," Ron interrupted, causing Ginny to inhale sharply.

Harry recoiled as if struck. His eyes blazed with sudden fire as anger rose in his chest. He clenched his fists and fought the urge to storm from the compartment. "I know enough," he said through clenched teeth.

Ron’s eyes opened wide, horrorstruck when he realized to whom he was speaking. "I’m sorry, Harry; I didn’t mean that. I know you, of all people, do know what it feels like."

"Yeah, and I know exactly what you’re doing. I tried to do it, too, and you were the one who wouldn’t let me. You grabbed onto me and held me up until I could stand on my own again. I’m going to do the same for you, like it or not."

Ron’s eyes glistened slightly, and he was forced to look away, blinking furiously. "How?" he finally choked out.

"I need help with my training, and you’re going to be my new fencing partner," Harry said firmly, as the idea took shape in his mind. "It helped me get out a lot of my aggression last year, and it’s a good workout."

Ron’s eyes brightened at the idea. "I think I’d like to learn how to fence."

"All right, you two. Slap each other on the back or something, and let’s go find Neville and Luna. They must be wondering about us by now. They didn’t know Harry and I were coming to the meeting this year," Ginny said.

"Harry, could you hold up a minute?" Hermione asked. "I need to discuss one more thing with you." It suddenly occurred to Harry that she had stayed unusually quiet during the whole row with Ron.

"Certainly. You two go ahead and meet Neville and Luna," Harry said to Ron and Ginny. "We’ll be along shortly,"

Ginny pecked him on the cheek before following Ron out the door. He saw her slap Ron on the back of the head and hiss, "How could you say that to him?" before he shut the door and turned to face Hermione.

"I’m sorry I forgot the badge; I’m wearing it now, see?" he said, pointing to the Head Boy badge pinned on his jacket.

"You could have polished it up a bit," she replied, but he could see the slight twitch in her lips, telling him he wasn’t in trouble.

He shrugged. "So, what did you want to talk to me about, then?"

"Ron," she said, sighing and sitting back down. "He’s being so….so…obstinate."

"Ron’s always obstinate, Hermione; you know that. He’s just having trouble coping. He’s been through a lot."

"I know that, Harry. I just don’t know what to say to him. He’s not acting the way he normally does, and I don’t know how to handle this Ron. I’ve always thought of us as being polar opposites on the outside, but inside…he brings out the part of me I can’t usually find on my own. He makes me laugh, and take risks…and do things I know aren’t logical, but are worth doing, just the same. When I first came to Hogwarts, I was delighted to be here…but I was so lonely. You and Ron changed that. You two changed everything for me," Hermione said, sniffling.

"I know exactly what you mean. You two changed everything for me as well. I’d never even had a friend before I came here," Harry admitted.

"I want Ron to feel that we’ve made a difference for him, too. He’s given us so much but he doesn’t see that, and I’m running out of ideas on how to make him realize how important he is to us," she said, swiping the tears from her eyes. "I don’t like not knowing what to do."

Harry knew that Hermione had to be very frustrated for her to admit that she didn’t have an answer for something.

"I think he just needs your support right now, even if he seems to be pushing you away. He’s not trying to hurt you. He’s trying to understand how his life spun so out of control."

"Is that what you’re doing, Harry?" she asked.

Harry was perplexed. "Huh?"

"You haven’t said one word to us about the Dursleys, or how you’re coping with their loss," Hermione said, gently laying a hand on top of Harry’s.

He looked away from her, uncomfortable with the way the conversation switched from Ron to him. "There isn’t much to say. We didn’t get along, but I’m sorry they were killed because of me."

"Harry, you must know there was nothing you could have done."

"I shouldn’t have left the house. I knew the blood protection was only valid as long as I could call Aunt Petunia’s house my own. I should have remembered that," Harry said, clenching his hands into fists. He didn’t like being reminded of his own stupidity.

"You didn’t leave; your uncle threw you out. I know he hurt you, Harry," she said anxiously.

"He was angry, and he lost control – it wasn’t a big deal. I was the one who knew I shouldn’t have left the house," Harry insisted.

"It was a big deal; it’s always been a big deal. You can deny it all you want, but I know you and I can see that their deaths are bothering you. You may think you’re covering it, but I notice when that faraway expression crosses your face."

"Of course it’s bothering me. They were struck down by the Killing Curse on their own front lawn on bloody Privet Drive! I didn’t even go to their funeral," Harry said, gasping to refill his lungs. He’d finally admitted it out loud. The fact he’d never properly had any closure with the Dursleys had been preying on his mind.

"Well, you were unconscious at the time," Hermione said, in her usual, matter-of-fact tone.

"They wouldn’t have wanted me there, anyway. And, besides, Aunt Marge insisted that I wasn’t allowed to come," he whispered.

Harry had his head bent, so he didn’t see Hermione’s eyes fill with tears. She pulled his head against her shoulder and gave him a tight squeeze. "Harry, it’s not your fault. I don’t understand how you could have lived with them for so many years without them seeing you for who you really are. I’m sorry they’re dead, too, I really am. But I’ll never forgive them for what they put you through."

Harry smiled weakly. "Thanks, Hermione. So, you and I are going to work together to drag Ron through this?"

Hermione sat up straight. "I suppose," she said, although she didn’t sound like her usual, confident self.

As they walked along the train, he’d got several startled looks at his Head Boy badge. He was certain the gossip mill was running full steam at this point. They found the others in a car in the middle of the train. Ron and Neville were involved in a close game of chess, while Luna read the Quibbler, and Ginny dozed against the window. Harry sat next to Ginny and rested her head on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep, as well; neither of them had slept well the night before.

By the time they reached Hogwarts, it was pouring rain, and the students dashed from the train to the awaiting carriages.

"Firs’ years! Firs’ years, this way," rang out a familiar voice. "Allo, Harry, how are ye?"

"All right, Hagrid. Good to see you," Harry called as he raced towards the carriage where Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were already waiting. Harry paused a moment to stare at the Thestrals, who looked back at him, unblinking.

Jonathan. Wormtail. Malfoy. Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia. Dudley. Charlie.

Those had been the deaths he’d witnessed this summer alone. It was building; the time was drawing near. Harry had always loved returning to Hogwarts; it felt so much like coming home. Still, this year, he could feel a sense of urgency – a tension that wouldn’t abate. His fate was rolling towards him like a snowball, gaining in size and momentum as it got closer. He had to make certain he was ready for it.

Ginny tugged on Harry’s hand, and he hurried into the carriage. His hair was sopping wet, and his glasses fogged instantly as he got inside. He dried them the best he could on his robes and settled in for the ride up to the castle.

Chapter Thirteen: Feast of Fools

The Great Hall was decorated in its usual splendor for the start-of-term feast. The golden plates and goblets glistened in the candlelight, and the room seemed to sparkle despite the thick storm clouds covering the enchanted ceiling. Despite the elegance and finery of the hall, the students were uncharacteristically subdued this year. The war was obviously taking its toll on all of them, and there were several tears shed over missing classmates. As Harry walked into the room, shaking droplets of rain from his hair, he could hear brief snatches of condolences being offered for the loss of various loved ones. His stomach clenched painfully; things were only getting worse.

Harry could see both of his roommates who hadn’t shared a coach with him sitting across from each other on the Gryffindor bench. Seamus sat next to Lavender Brown and blew in her ear whenever Dean looked the other way. Lavender giggled madly, while Parvati Patil, who sat on Lavender’s other side, rolled her eyes.

Neville walked Luna over to the Ravenclaw table, while the others took their seats. Harry was aware of all the stares he’d been receiving since entering the room. He knew he ought to be used to it by now, but it never failed to make him uncomfortable. Every year, since arriving at Hogwarts, he’d been a hot topic for the rumor mill. He knew everyone would be curious about what had happened between him and Voldemort at the end of the previous term. No matter how much Professor Dumbledore tried to keep it quiet, the information mill at Hogwarts was surprisingly quick and accurate.

What Harry hadn’t expected was the amount of female attention his arrival would generate. It seemed girls from every house, particularly the younger ones, were staring openly at him. He knew he was looking healthier than he usually did at the start of term – Mrs. Weasley had seen to it that he got plenty to eat. He was suntanned and fit from all the exercise, but he didn’t think the difference was startling enough to garner such stares. Despite the fact that he’d been dating Ginny for a good nine months, he still found girls very confusing.

Stealing a glance at Ginny, he could tell by the scowl on her pretty face that she’d noticed the stares, as well. He couldn’t help that he liked it when she got possessive. He gently kicked at her ankle under the table and smiled brightly when she looked up. She returned his smile and linked her hand with his.

"I’m beginning to wish you were still wearing Dudley’s baggy hand-me-downs and looking like you were in desperate need of a good meal," she muttered so only he could hear.

Harry snorted. "Now that didn’t sound like your mother."

"Tosh. My mother would be proud of all these other girls staring at you – I’m not that easily amused," Ginny said, lifting her nose pertly in the air.

"I don’t know why they’re looking at me. I haven’t even done anything yet this year," he said, chuckling.

Ginny grinned and shook her head. "You really are so cute, Harry."

Harry had no idea what he’d done, but he was quite pleased with himself, anyway. His thoughts were dragged away from Ginny when he heard Hermione gasp. He looked up quickly to see his friend staring up at the staff table.

"Is that Cordelia?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Harry scanned the staff table; sure enough, sitting between Professors Snape and McGonagall was Cordelia Monroe. Her dark hair was plaited and wound around the top of her head like a crown. She wore robes of bright orange that seemed to accentuate the Mediterranean coloring of her skin. She smiled at whatever it was that Professor McGonagall was telling her. Harry noticed that although Snape wasn’t glaring at her, he looked decidedly uncomfortable. Harry was amused by the thought of Cordelia’s charms working their magic on the sour Potions Master. Certainly, none of the other males on the island had been unaffected by her.

"Cordelia must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Hermione exclaimed.

Harry’s eyes slowly ran up and down the length of the table. Hermione was right; Cordelia was the only new face there. "I wonder why she didn’t mention it to us on the island," Harry said.

"Maybe she didn’t know," said Ron. "Maybe Dumbledore didn’t offer her the position until after we left. Has to be a good thing though, right? I mean, we know her, and she’s not a Death Eater."

Hermione frowned as she continued to gaze at the staff table. "True, yet something seems out of place. I can’t put my finger on what it is, however."

"I wish they’d feed us before they did the Sorting. I’m starving," Ron complained.

Harry chuckled, while Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes. "You’re always starving, Ron. Ten minutes after you eat, you say you’re starving," Ginny said.

"Well, right now I could eat a Hippogriff," Ron said, holding onto his empty stomach to emphasize his point.

"I’m hungry, as well," Harry admitted. "It would be nice if they could put some appetizers or at least bread and butter out beforehand."

As if hearing his request, a basket full of warm bread suddenly appeared on the table.

All four Gryffindors stared at it stupidly. "Whoa," Ron said, his voice awed. "You mean to tell me that all we had to do was ask, and it took until our seventh year to figure that out?"

Harry grabbed a roll and began buttering it. "Dunno. Maybe Dobby is on duty tonight, and he knows how hungry you get."

Ron had already eaten half his roll before Harry had finished buttering his own. Even Ginny and Hermione each took a roll from the basket when Harry offered.

"Where did that come from?" Neville asked, finally joining them. "They’ve never had food out before the Sorting."

"I just asked for some bread, and it appeared," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Cool," Neville said, taking a roll.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall, once again, led a group of small first-years up the center aisle towards the front of the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall moved the stool and the Sorting Hat into place. The Sorting Hat looked even older than Harry remembered; he wondered what would happen if it ever finally just fell apart. He supposed a simple spell would take care of it; still, he amused himself with the thought.

"Hey! Where did the rolls come from?" asked Seamus from his seat a little further away from where Harry and the others were sitting. Harry started to pass the basket Seamus’s way, but Ron grabbed two more rolls before he let go. Harry noticed the basket magically refilled itself.

"Here you are," Harry said, handing the basket to Dean. He watched in amusement as it traveled the length of the Gryffindor table, while several other Houses seemed to notice the existence of the food. The chattering in the Hall grew louder, before a stern glance from Professor McGonagall quieted them down.

Belatedly, Harry realized that he once again hadn’t paid attention to the Sorting Hat’s song.

"Adams, Beatrice," McGonagall called out, and a tall girl with hair even bushier than Hermione’s ran eagerly to the stool. She sat upon it and grinned at her fellow classmates.

"GRYFFINDOR!" yelled the hat, barely touching Beatrice’s head.

The Gryffindor table erupted into shouts and applause. The young girl took a seat next to Hermione.

"Welcome to Gryffindor, Beatrice. I’m Hermione Granger, Head Girl. This is your Head Boy, Harry Potter, and Ron and Ginny Weasley, both Gryffindor prefects. Let us know if you have any questions," Hermione said, making all the introductions.

Ron coughed, and Harry was sure he mumbled, "Big-Head Girl."

Beatrice turned to Harry, and her eyes opened in shock. "Harry Potter…the Harry Potter?"

Harry lifted one eyebrow and unconsciously adjusted his fringe over his scar, "That would be me."

"Crikey, my mum’s going to have kittens," she blurted out, her eyes wide. Ginny spit out the water she was drinking and tried to cover her giggles, while Harry glared at her. Her eyes watered with mirth, and he had to admit that she looked awfully cute.

"He has that effect on my mum, too," Ginny said to the first-year.

"Chandler, Christian," McGonagall called, and Harry realized he’d missed several names while they’d been talking, but no one else had joined the Gryffindor table.

"GRYFFINODR!" yelled the hat, and a blonde boy with a baby face ran over and sat next to Beatrice. Hermione went through the introductions again, although Christian’s eyes never moved from Harry’s scar, nor did he blink.

Harry felt awkward and uncomfortable with the attention from the new first-years. Usually, he sat at the back of the table and away from the new students. They were always curious about him at first, but after a few days, they generally came to accept him. This year, being Head Boy, he sat at the front of the Gryffindor table, right where the new students took their seats, and there was no place to hide.

Harry pulled his fringe down over his scar and hunched his shoulders, trying to shrink a bit. Ginny quietly took his hand beneath the table, and the brief contact bolstered his spirits. He gave her hand a squeeze and chided himself for feeling this way. He was a seventh-year; he wasn’t going to be intimidated by a bunch of new first-years. If they really got on his nerves, he could turn them all into bugs. He smiled to himself at the thought…maybe he could merely threaten to do that to them…but Hermione would probably flay him alive.

"My mum thought you were crazy a couple of years ago," Christian stated bluntly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well…a lot of people did. Who says I’m not?"

Ginny slapped his upper arm. "That’s not funny, Harry."

"Yeah, it is," Ron said, laughing at Harry. "I’ve always thought he was a bit of a nutter."

Harry squinted his eyes into a mock glare and blew Ron a kiss across the table.

Christian watched the antics of the older boys with close scrutiny. "After the break in at the Ministry, when You-Know-Who was seen, well...she changed her mind. My dad is an Auror, and he hears things. He says you were kidnapped last year and actually dueled with You-Know-Who. Mum says that can’t be true. So, what happened?" Christian asked with wide eyes.

Harry was aware of the silence descending upon the entire Gryffindor table; everyone wanted to hear the answer to this question. Ginny tightened her grip on his hand, while visions of the battle at Malfoy Manor caused Harry to shudder. Voldemort’s last words rang in Harry’s ears – This isn’t over. Harry had his doubts that it would ever be truly over.

"Voldemort seems to feel it would be better if I were dead. I disagree," Harry said, watching both of the new Gryffindors flinch at the use of the name.

"That’s enough," Hermione scolded. "You’re missing the Sorting, and Professor McGonagall is glaring at us. Pay attention." She cast Harry an apologetic smile. He was grateful she’d managed to pull the unwanted attention from him. As each new Gryffindor joined the table, Hermione quickly rushed through the introductions, and Ron and Ginny deflected the questions. Harry felt a great swell of affection for his friends that night.

After the last boy was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. He was wearing deep emerald-green robes with pictures of the planets imprinted all over them. His silvery beard seemed to shimmer in the candlelight, and Harry squinted to try to see more clearly. He thought there might actually be a bit of glitter sprinkled into his beard and hair. Harry shook his head; he wouldn’t put anything past his headmaster. He remembered the first time he saw Dumbledore at his first Sorting feast. He’d asked Percy Weasley if Dumbledore was a bit mad. Harry smiled now with genuine fondness; Professor Dumbledore was brilliant, but that first impression still held true.

The room had quieted when Dumbledore stood, and they stared at him in expectation. "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. Tuck in, and let the feast begin," he said, and the tables magically filled with an abundance of food.

Harry began loading his plate with his favorites. His mind drifted to last year and how sick he’d felt during the feast. Voldemort had broken his followers out of Azkaban that night. Tonight, however, Harry’s scar didn’t ache, and his mood was much better. He was quite hungry, although still not keeping up with Ron’s appetite.

Harry watched Ginny’s profile as he began cutting his steak. She’d filled her own plate and was stirring her corn into her mashed potatoes. He’d noticed she often liked to mix her food together. A stray lock of hair kept falling forward into her plate, and Harry absently reached over to brush it back for her.

She looked up, and his breath caught as he saw the twinkle in her eye. The rest of the room disappeared for a moment, and they were the only two in the Great Hall. Ron’s voice snapped Harry back to the present. "Oi, knock it off. You look like a lovesick puppy, Harry. It’s not becoming, and I’m trying to eat."

"Oh, like anything would ever stop you from eating," Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes and gazing back at her own plate.

Harry snorted and continued eating his own meal. He watched Ginny from the corner of his eye as he ate. He wasn’t certain when she’d become so important to him, but now, it was like she was an extension of himself. Her happiness, her well being…his own life felt directly tied to her. He loved her. That thought still amazed him sometimes. He still felt a chill run up his spine every time she said those words to him. He’d waited all his life to hear them, and he just couldn’t get enough of them now. All in all, it was a good feeling, but it left him feeling vulnerable, as well. If she ever decided he wasn’t worth the risk – if she got fed up with his moods or uncertain about his feelings… He didn’t think she understood how completely she could break his heart.

Desiring a love he’d never experienced was one thing…having it and then losing it, or having it taken away…that was something else entirely, and Harry didn’t think he would survive. He needed her; she was a part of him. He would risk everything for her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ginny asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"I was just thinking how much I love you," Harry replied.

Ginny’s eyes flew open wide. Harry had told her he loved her on many occasions since that first time, almost like he was testing the words on his tongue. But he rarely said them in public, where he could be overheard. Her smile softened, wondering what was going on his head. "I love you, too, Harry. I always have."

He smiled and seemed bolstered by her words. The pudding appeared on the table, and Harry served her before taking some for himself.

Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and the room quieted, as the students turned their attention towards him. "Once again, I welcome you all to another year at Hogwarts. I have some beginning-of-term announcements before we can all retire for the evening. Even though I fear I may be wasting my breath amongst some of the older students, I will remind the first-years that the Forbidden Forest is strictly that – forbidden. In these dark times, I ask that the older students who have ventured there in the past to please heed my warning." Professor Dumbledore’s eyes bore particularly hard into the Gryffindor table, causing Ron and Harry to duck their heads, and Hermione to chew her lip in nervousness.

"Mr. Filch, our dedicated caretaker, has a list of banned items available in his office. With the success of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, I’m afraid I’ve lost count of the number of items this list contains. All Weasley items are firmly on that list and are highly discouraged," he continued, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"I’d also like to take this moment to welcome a new teacher to our ranks, and share congratulations with another. First off, our own Professor Snape will be transferring from teaching Potions to assume the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. I am certain you will all join me…"

"What?" Ron’s outraged voice drowned out the rest of Professor Dumbledore’s announcement. "He can’t be serious. I thought I was done with Snape for good."

"I’m really surprised," Hermione said, her eyes wide. "I mean, everyone knows he’s always wanted the position, but I always assumed there was a reason Professor Dumbledore never gave it to him. I wonder what’s changed."

Harry’s head spun. Snape was the new DADA teacher? DADA was his best class; how could he learn anything in this – his most important class – in his crucial last year, with Snape as a teacher? Snape hated Harry. Harry felt that the fact that he’d never had any luck with Potions was directly related to Snape and his constant belittlement of Harry’s efforts. Even if he and Snape had made some progress toward an understanding last year – and Harry seriously doubted they had – he still wouldn’t want Snape as his DADA teacher. What was Dumbledore playing at?

"What’s wrong with Snape?" Christian Chandler whispered. Her eyes looked wide and fearful.

"He’s a git," Ron said. "And he’ll automatically hate you, since you’re a Gryffindor."

"Ron! He’s a teacher. Don’t worry, Christian; I’m certain that…that…" Hermione seemed at a loss for words. Harry could see she was trying to fulfill her role as Head Girl, but she couldn’t honestly say that Snape would treat the young first-year fairly.

"Don’t worry about Snape," Harry said. "Just be certain to study your lessons carefully. I’m pretty good with Defense, so if you have any trouble, just ask me for some help. I’m certain Snape will love that. Actually, don’t use my name; you’ll get detention for certain."

"Since Professor Snape will obviously be unavailable to continue teaching Potions, allow me to introduce Professor Monroe, who will be taking over in the Potions classroom," Professor Dumbledore continued the introductions.

Cordelia smiled graciously at the students, flashing her brilliantly white teeth. Harry noticed many of the Hogwarts male population sit up straighter. Parvati Patil glared at the new teacher, who received a louder than normal welcome

Professor Dumbledore waited for the noise to abate and continued his speech. "As you are all aware, we are currently facing a war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters." Harry was annoyed by the continued gasps at the use of Voldemort’s name. If they couldn’t even handle hearing the name, how were they ever going to be able to stand up and fight? "I assure you, the castle remains the safest place for you to be. However, we have added some extra security measures for your own protection, and I will ask you to obey them. Curfews will be strictly enforced, and students are not permitted on the grounds after dark. Quidditch practices that continue into the evening must have a teacher present. Excursions into the village of Hogsmeade will be permitted, but there will be no prior notice given, and extra precautionary rules will apply. I shall inform you all of any changes or developments as the year progresses. Now, off to bed with the lot of you," he said, making shooing motions with his hands.

Harry looked over at Ron and raised one eyebrow. "We’re still being allowed to go to Hogsmeade?"

"I’d bet a hundred galleons that that doesn’t include you, mate, " Ron replied with a wry grin.

"Don’t be so smug. I think you might now be included in that ban, as well," Harry said grimly. If Lucius Malfoy were still alive, Ron would have a target on his back, just the same as Harry. Even if not, Narcissa Malfoy had insisted she’d seek revenge for her son.

Ginny linked her arms with Harry. "Don’t worry about it now; if you can’t visit, you can always order anything you need by owl post, or Hermione and I will pick things up for you."

"I think that all of us should—"

Harry, I would like a word. Could you meet me in my office? The password is Licorice Wand.

Harry stopped speaking and looked around wildly. He’d heard Dumbledore’s voice, but couldn’t see him anywhere.

"Harry, what’s wrong? What happened?" Hermione asked.

"N- nothing. It was nothing. Dumbledore wants to talk to me; I’m going to head up to his office," Harry replied, seeing the headmaster give him a brief nod before exiting the Great Hall.

Ginny nodded, still looking at him strangely. "All right; we’ll wait for you in the common room."

Harry leaned over and kissed her lightly. "Don’t wait up too long. I don’t how late I’ll be, and I can tell you anything important in the morning. He’s probably going to say that I can’t go into Hogsmeade and tell me who is going to be my trainer this year. I’ve got some things I want to discuss about Snape being the new DADA teacher, anyway." Harry’s thoughts turned briefly to Jonathan, suddenly noticing his absence much more strongly since arriving at the castle.

"Don’t get yourself in trouble, Harry. Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape, " Hermione warned.

"I know, but I still don’t have to like it," Harry said before following Professor Dumbledore from the hall.

Harry arrived in the headmaster’s office a few minutes after Professor Dumbledore, and he sat in a chair across from the ancient wizard’s desk. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s brilliant scarlet and gold phoenix, soared across the room to settle on Harry’s shoulder. Harry gently stroked Fawkes’s plumage, and the bird trilled its praise for the attention.

"I am going to have to make certain I buy Fawkes some special phoenix treats, Harry, or else I may find myself short one familiar," Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly.

Harry grinned and looked right in Fawkes eyes. "You can come see me anytime he doesn’t give you a proper treat, Fawkes." Fawkes trilled again and flew back to his perch.

"I see that you had no trouble with my message," Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling.

"How did you do that? I wasn’t trying to pick up on your thoughts."

"As you become more proficient with your skills, you will find that you can communicate with other Legilimens through your mind. Quite a useful skill, if I do say so myself," Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

"How am I going to become more proficient with it, sir?" Harry asked.

"Ahh, that brings me to the reason for our little chat. I wanted to discuss plans for your continued training this year. You and I will work on the Legilimency together, and Aberforth will be coming to the castle to resume Jonathan’s work. He spends his evenings at the Hog’s End, but his afternoons are free."

"That will be brilliant," Harry exclaimed.

"I am glad you approve. I also wanted to inform you that we have come across a spell in Jonathan’s texts that we feel should prove useful."

"Who’s we?" Harry asked. "Bill didn’t mention anything to me."

"Actually, it was Miss Granger who first noticed the text. She researched it as far as she was able before turning it over to Emmeline Vance, who had the resources to pull it all together."

Harry grinned, not surprised in the slightest that it was Hermione who made the first breakthrough. He wondered why she hadn’t mentioned anything to him. "What kind of spell?" he asked.

"The text roughly translates to Curse of the Damned. From what we have gathered, this curse would be able to undo the steps Voldemort has taken to ensure his immortality. It calls upon past victims of the cursed individual, draining the person’s power. It is similar in nature to what happened during Priori Incantatum in your duel in the graveyard. Priori Incantatum is a spell that merely causes a wand to reveal the spells it has cast. The fact that Voldemort had killed with his wand made it show his victims. However, the fact that they actually aided you in your escape is unique to you and you alone. I think it is one more instance that shows you are very connected to this Old Magic. Its basis comes from human emotion, and you have very strong emotions towards those you love. The more victims who feel wronged by the cursed individual, the stronger the curse. There is a complication, however."

"Of course there is," Harry deadpanned.

"The curse is designed to be used in a duel; however, much as your wands battled for power during the Priori Incantatum, you would again have to battle for control of this curse," Dumbledore said gravely.

Harry was confused; he didn’t see the down side on this one. "That doesn’t sound so bad. Even if I don’t succeed in gaining control, how could the curse be used against me? I haven’t killed anyone."

"Not directly; however…there are plenty of Death Eaters whom I believe would hold you responsible for their own demise. This is an ancient and powerful curse, Harry; you need to be ready for it. You already nearly destroyed Voldemort with your feelings for those you love…but this curse, this could take away his immortality, so you could finish him off. You need to prepare for the struggle. It is imperative that you be the one to place the curse on him."

"But Voldemort hasn’t seen these texts, he won’t know about the curse," Harry said.

"I would not be so confident. Voldemort went through extensive trials and research to ensure his immortality; he would be certain to know what could interfere with those efforts," Dumbledore replied.

"So…between the curse and the use of Legilimency…you think he can be defeated?" Harry asked, barely daring to hope. Is this it? Might all this finally be over?

"I believe so, yes," Dumbledore said, nodding.

Harry swallowed. So, there it was…it would all come down to this. "I’m ready, sir. I’m ready to end this. He has to be stopped, and I want a chance to live."

"I want that for you, as well, Harry. Do you have any other questions?" Dumbledore asked, settling back in his chair and removing a lemon drop. He held the container out to Harry, who popped one in his mouth, as well.

"Yes. While I’m pleased to have Aberforth and Cordelia here, I can’t say that I’m thrilled with the idea of Snape teaching Defense," Harry said, rolling the candy in his mouth.

"Professor Snape, Harry."

‘Whatever,’ Harry thought, but remained silent and merely nodded at Dumbledore.

"I have my own concerns about Professor Snape taking on the Defense position, but I have my reasons for allowing it, and I will be watching the situation. Professor Snape has not been in Voldemort’s good graces of late, and we needed something to whet his appetite. We needed a reason for Professor Snape to become useful once again to Voldemort; this transfer killed two birds with one stone, so to speak."

Harry shook his head in amazement; did Professor Dumbledore ever do anything that wasn’t some sort of scheme? "Very well, sir, but if my marks in that class suddenly take a nose dive, you’ll know why."

Harry really wasn’t all that concerned. He already was doing spellwork that was past N.E.W.T.-level, and he knew he could pass his test at the end of term. Since Aberforth would be training him, he had no fears about his defense preparation. He didn’t really expect Professor Snape to teach him anything, anyway; it would simply be an added nuisance.

"Was there anything else, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah. I want to know about Lucius Malfoy. Did Remus tell you about our conversation?" Harry asked warily, hoping Remus hadn’t mentioned anything to Professor Dumbledore about Harry’s sleeping troubles.

"He did. I have nothing definite for you, but I suspect that it was indeed Lucius whom you saw on the island. I believe he is alive and holding a vendetta against both you and Mr. Weasley. You will understand, of course, why I must insist you both remain in the castle, even during Hogsmeade weekends," Dumbledore said.

"Yeah, we figured as much."

"Very good. I would suggest that Miss Weasley and Miss Granger remain behind, as well. I am certain the four of you can find some interesting ways to spend your time," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Harry winced. "I agree with you, but you can be the one to tell Ginny that she can’t go to Hogsmeade."

"Gryffindor courage has been taking a bruising from Miss Weasley, I take it?" Dumbledore asked, chuckling.

"Right in one. She’s scary when she gets angry," Harry said, nodding. Ginny had inherited her mother’s temper.

"Very well, then. It shall be left to me to take on Miss Weasley’s temper," Dumbledore said, smiling. Harry thought he looked almost eager for the challenge; he obviously didn’t know what he was in for in taking on Ginny Weasley.

"Sir, Ron’s and my Apparation tests were postponed after the Ministry attacks yesterday, so we’ll need to reschedule. I think it’s important we all be able to Apparate, just in case – Ginny, too. I’d appreciate it if you could get Ginny a waiver, so she could be taught to Apparate early, like I did last year," Harry said. He was not planning on backing down over this point. As it turned out, he didn’t have to.

"Agreed. Let me see what can be arranged. Maybe something can be planned for the three of you to go in for testing one afternoon, unannounced. I will work on a waiver for Miss Weasley; perhaps we can use the observer from the Ministry for our own purposes," Dumbledore said, nodding.

"Who is this observer?" Harry asked curiously; he had forgotten about Fudge’s stipulation that the Ministry keep tabs on Harry’s training.

"He shall be arriving on Monday for the start of classes. I have not informed Cornelius that Aberforth is the one who will be training you. I imagine the observer will be quite surprised by that development when he looks in on your first session." Harry could tell by the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye that he was up to something, and that there was more going on than Harry knew. Some things never changed.

"I’ll wait to get my time-table, then. I’ve asked Ron to be a sparring partner for fencing. D’you think Abe will mind?" Harry asked.

"I daresay he will be delighted. A very good idea, I think; it will help Mr. Weasley adjust," Dumbledore said, nodding his head.

"I hope so," Harry said quietly.

"Keep your friends close, and continue watching out for one another. It serves you all well, and it is the best defense against Voldemort. Their continued loyalty to you infuriates him."

"Ginny told me that once." Harry said, smiling, remembering that night in the hospital wing after last year’s start-of-term feast.

"She is correct; he has never had anyone to do the same for him. Perhaps, if he had, things might have turned out very differently," Dumbledore said, sighing.

Harry nodded and returned to Gryffindor tower to turn in for the night; he was knackered.

Ron blearily opened his eyes when he heard Harry enter the seventh-year boys’ dormitory. He’d waited in the common room with Hermione and Ginny for Harry’s return. When the hour grew late, they had finally given up on him and gone to bed. They knew he’d fill them in on what the headmaster had to say in the morning. Ron tried to stay awake, but just as he felt the gentle tide of sleep claiming him, he heard Harry enter the dorm. He watched as his friend smiled and looked around the room. He knew Harry felt like he was coming home; Ron had felt the same way. Since the loss of the Burrow, Hogwarts felt more like home than Grimmauld Place ever would.

Ron wanted to call out to Harry and let him know he was still awake, but he was too drowsy to form the words. Harry changed into his pajamas and cast a Silencing Charm around his bed before climbing in and pulling the curtains around him. Ron watched as the tip of Harry’s wand cast a small illumination from the closed hangings.

Ron knew Harry had been having trouble, not only with closed-in spaces, but with the darkness, as well. Harry had always had nightmares, but since their captivity, they seem to have been taken to a whole different level. Ron wondered what horrors plagued Harry during the night. Ron knew that his own dreams were vivid, recalling that trapped, hopeless feeling of waiting for death. The Death Eaters hadn’t beaten Ron; they’d simply left him alone. He’d barely seen another living soul that entire week, except for Narcissa Malfoy and her taunting. He’d been stuck there alone, frantically seeking a way out and trapped with his own thoughts.

The experience had left Ron with a hatred of silence. He couldn’t stand to be quiet, or not to hear noise coming from somewhere. Living with the twins, never mind his entire large family, ensured that things were never too quiet. Still, Ron frequently had to yell simply to make some noise. Ron had noticed the opposite seemed to be true with Harry. Harry pulled back and shied away from all the commotion, seeking calm solitude. Harry never talked about the torture inflicted upon him at Malfoy manor, so Ron only had the memories of Harry’s screams to fill in the blanks. Ron imagined that Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy would both have vendettas to score against Harry. He shuddered before letting sleep claim him.

Ron found himself in a small, dark cell. It was nearly pitch black, and he had to squint to make out the vague outlines of shadows moving around the confined space. The smell of rot and decay mixed with bodily fluids was overwhelming and caused him to gag. He put a hand on the wall of the cell to support himself but drew back quickly in revulsion. The walls were covered in a wet, sticky substance, but whatever it was, Ron didn’t want to know.

As his eyes became more accustomed to the dimmed light, he could see Harry lying unmoving on the floor. He was curled into a ball and panting heavily. He wore his old, battered, and too-big jeans, but his chest and feet were bare. Ron could see the belt Harry had worn around his waist hanging from the wall. It looked as if it had been used as a whip. Ron knelt next to Harry and was horrified to discover how badly he was bleeding. There was so much blood Ron couldn’t even tell from where it was all coming. He recognized with sickening surety that the substance all over the wall was Harry’s blood. His friend must have tried to get away at some point, but he hadn’t made it very far. Ron felt his stomach churn.

Harry was obviously in pain, but his eyes glowed with a determined ferocity. Ron had seen that same look in Harry’s eyes when he went up against a Hungarian Horntail back in fourth year.

"Harry," Ron said, but no sound issued forth from his mouth.

Instead, another voice from another part of the cell purred, "How did that feel, Hawwy? Did the baby not wike it? Does the baby want his mommy? Oh…sorry…the mommy is dead. We already killed her, too bad, so sad. Is that what you see when the Dementor is here, Hawwy? You cry for her, you know. I like it when you cry like that."

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Ron felt a burning hatred explode in his chest. Not only was she torturing Harry, she was taunting him while she did it. Bitch. Ron tried to walk towards her, but found he couldn’t move, nor could he look away. He was trapped within Harry’s nightmare, unable to move or speak…or to wake up. Ron began to feel panicked. Come on, Harry; wake up, mate. Get us out of here.

"Crucio," Bellatrix said slowly, almost caressing the word as she said it. Harry’s screams filled the cell, despite the hoarseness of his voice. The scream went on, and on, and on. Finally, she lifted her wand and took a deep, shuddering breath, stroking her wand with her hand. She was truly enjoying this. "My master will be here soon, Hawwy. All you have to do is give him what he wants, and he’ll make your death so much less painful."

"What?" Harry spat in a show of bravado, although his voice sounded horribly weak and strained. "He’s going to spoil all your fun? Doesn’t sound fair – he makes you do all the work then takes all the glory for himself."

"Silence!" Bellatrix screeched in rage. She roughly grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair, yanked his head back, then slammed it into the ground. "You will show proper respect, infidel. You will not speak of my Lord that way in my presence."

"Come on, Bella." Harry groaned, but continued giving her cheek. "I already told you; he’s no lord – he’s not even a pureblood. Didn’t you know? He’s a half-blood named Tom; I don’t know where all this pureblood nonsense came from."

Shut up, Harry, Ron thought desperately. She’s going to hurt you, and I can’t stop her. Please wake up, Harry. You’ve got to wake up now.

Bellatrix was beyond furious. She aimed her wand at Harry and made a slicing motion. She was screeching so loudly that her words were distorted, and Ron couldn’t make out what curse she had used. The cut on Harry’s shoulder, which had already been bleeding, seemed to split open even further. He screamed in agony, and she sank her hands into the wound. She continued to claw at his skin until he nearly passed out. She removed her blood-covered hands and spat, "You’ll pay for that, Hawwy. I’ll make certain that pwetty wittle wed head you’re so fond of pays for your cheek after you’re dead. There will be nothing you can do about it. Your Dementor friend is on his way back; you hold on to the thoughts of all the things I can do to her, Harry. I’m certain your imagination can come up with some ideas the Dementor will never touch."

It’s only a dream, it’s only a dream, Ron kept repeating desperately. This isn’t really happening; it’s over. It’s only a dream.

Cackling, Bellatrix strode past Ron and left the cell. Harry only had a moment to try to recover before a bone-chilling coldness descended upon them. Harry, who up until this point had remained confident and cocksure, despite his predicament, curled his legs up and began scooting back towards the wall.

"Noo," he moaned, covering his ears with his hands and shaking his head violently.

"Harry?" Ron asked.

"Please, stop," Harry pleaded, covering a sob with his arm. The door of the cell opened wide, and Ron suddenly understood Harry’s reaction. A Dementor glided in, taking a rattling breath and making it feel as if it was sucking all the air from the room.

"Sirius!" Harry screamed.

Ron sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat and panting heavily. His stomach was roiling, and he had to grip the sides of his bed to steady himself or he would have heaved. It took several minutes to get himself under control, but eventually he shakily sat up and moved the curtains. He could see Harry entering the room, returning from the bathroom. Harry was pale and sweating, and Ron knew that he’d lost the battle for control of the contents in his stomach.

"Are you all right?" Ron croaked.

Harry nodded. "Nightmare," he said, before crawling back into his bed.

"Yeah," Ron whispered, lying back down himself. "I know."

How had that happened? Ron wondered, before falling back into a restless sleep.

Chapter Fourteen: Calm Before the Storm

Harry lay in his bunk, listening to the sounds of movement in his dormitory as his roommates awoke for the day. It was Sunday, so they had a free day before the start of classes and had all taken advantage by having a lie-in. Harry hadn’t been asleep for hours, but he hadn’t felt like getting up, either. He’d had a terrible nightmare about his captivity at Malfoy Manor, and he’d been unable to fall back asleep. At one point, he’d even considered using his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak to seek out Ginny. But he didn’t want to get her in trouble on their first night back, and he also didn’t want her to think the nightmares were becoming unmanageable. Perhaps Remus talking to Professor McGonagall wasn’t such a bad thing – he could really use some of that Dreamless Sleep Potion to get a good night’s rest once in awhile.

Harry sighed and forced himself to sit up – it was time to start the day. He didn’t think his stomach could handle breakfast, but a shower might snap him out of his daze and make him feel livelier. He pulled back his bed hangings and was startled to find Ron sitting on his own bed, waiting for him. Ron looked like he hadn’t slept well either, and a deep frown creased his brow.

"Morning, Ron. What’s wrong?" Harry asked, his throat feeling dry and scratchy.

"How did you sleep?" Ron asked, staring at Harry intently.

Harry averted his eyes. "Okay."

"Any nightmares?" Ron persisted.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and still refused to meet his gaze. He had a vague recollection of telling Ron that he’d had a nightmare during the night, but he couldn’t be certain. "Er…yeah. I’m going to go take a shower and wake up properly."

"Harry," Ron said, standing as well and grabbing onto Harry’s arm. "Did you dream about being back at Malfoy Manor…about Bellatrix Lestrange and what she did to you…to your shoulder…before sending a Dementor back into your cell?" Ron asked. He seemed determined to get the words out despite his struggles.

Harry took a stunned step backwards, grabbing his shoulder and massaging a phantom pain. "How…" He stopped, unable to continue. He licked his dry lips and tried again. "How did you know that?"

Ron’s shoulders sagged, and he sank back down upon his bed. "I was hoping it was just a weird dream."

Harry sat on his own bed opposite Ron; he felt drained, somehow, and uncertain what to make of Ron’s knowledge of his nightmare. "Ron?"

"I was there, Harry," Ron whispered.

"Pardon?"

"I was there…in your nightmare. I had the same dream, only I couldn’t move or speak. I woke up when you did. I think you were sick," Ron said, his voice barely audible.

Harry was stunned. "What? How?" What is Ron on about?

"I dunno," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. "I was awake when you entered the dorm last night, and I saw you turn in. I was wondering what kind of nightmares you had, because I saw you light your wand." Harry’s cheeks flamed, but Ron waved it away. "The next thing I knew, I was in that cell, watching that bitch toy with you. Was that real, Harry? Did that really happen?"

Harry nodded, feeling his body tremble with suppressed memories.

Ron swallowed. "I’m sorry, mate."

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. His thoughts flew too fast to make sense of anything at the moment. He wasn’t certain if he was more uncomfortable with the idea Ron had seen his nightmare, or grateful to be able to acknowledge it. "I’m going to take my shower, then we need to talk to Dumbledore. He’ll need to know about this."

"All right," Ron said, nodding. "After breakfast, though, okay?"

"You go ahead down while I’m in the shower; I’m not hungry," Harry said, heading for the door.

"Harry…not to sound like my mum or the girls, but…you have to eat," Ron said, an apologetic grimace on his face.

"Not this morning, Ron; I can’t."

Ron nodded his understanding and headed down to the common room while Harry moved towards the shower.

The shower was refreshing and succeeded in perking Harry up considerably. He padded back to his room while running a towel over his wet hair. He knew he could cast a Drying Charm, but they always made his hair stick out even more than it normally did. It was at least a little bit more manageable when he let it dry naturally. He stored his things in his trunk and climbed down the stairs into the common room.

Ginny was the only person there. She was sitting in a squashy chair by the fire, a pensive frown upon her face.

"Morning, Harry," she said, smiling when she saw him, but he could see the worry in her eyes.

"Morning," he replied, sitting next to her and wriggling to make room for the two of them on the chair.

"Ron is still in the Great Hall with Hermione; he told us about your shared dream. What do you think it means?" Ginny asked, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. The warmth of her body was inviting, and Harry leaned closer breathing in the scent of her hair. He rested his head on her shoulder and wished he could simply make time stand still for a while.

"I’m not certain. Last night, Professor Dumbledore relayed a message to me with Legilimency. He said that trained Legilimens could communicate silently. I wonder if I somehow transferred my thoughts to Ron. Although, that doesn’t explain how Ron picked up on them, since he’s never studied Legilimency."

Ginny’s face remained pensive as she nodded. "What else did Dumbledore have to say last night?"

Harry brightened. "He’s going to get you a waiver so you can learn to Apparate early, just like I did."

"Really? That’s brilliant. Why, though?" Ginny asked, beaming.

"So you’ll be able to get away in an emergency. In case you hadn’t noticed, knowing me tends to lead to lot of emergencies. After you’ve mastered it, he’s going to arrange for a test at the same time that Ron gets re-tested. It’s really important for you both to have a way to get away."

The portrait hole swung open, revealing not only Ron and Hermione, but Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, as well. "They were in the Great Hall, so I told Professor Dumbledore we needed to talk," Ron said, leaning his head towards their two professors.

Hermione rushed over to where Harry and Ginny were sitting and threw her arms around Harry. "Oh, Harry," she sniffed. "I’m so sorry."

Harry was astonished, and he had no idea why he was on the receiving end of this rush of emotion. He patted her back awkwardly. "Hermione, are you all right?"

Hermione sniffed. "I’m fine, Harry; it’s you that I’m concerned about."

Harry felt lost, and he turned pleading eyes upon the headmaster. Dumbledore chuckled for a moment before taking a seat himself. "Mr. Weasley informs me that the two of you shared a dream last night, Harry. Is this correct?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if it had something to do with Legilimency," Harry said, finally pulling himself out of Hermione’s grip. She sat on a couch next to Ron, but continued sniffling.

"I believe it does. Mr. Weasley tells me that he was concerned about your nightmares right before he fell asleep, and, as you know, we had been discussing this non-verbal method of communicating before you left my office. As I have said before, you are highly susceptible to suggestion. I think you may have projected your dream to Mr. Weasley subconsciously. When we begin your Legilimency sessions later in the week, we shall set up some trials in order to test it. With a bit of practice, you should be able to control it and, perhaps, use it to your advantage."

Harry nodded. "Similar to what I did against Voldemort."

"Exactly."

"But what about these nightmares?" Hermione asked. "He shouldn’t have to relive that night after night. I’ve done some research on the effects of interrupted sleep, and I find it rather alarming. I think we should set up a schedule amongst ourselves to observe when Harry sleeps. If we can notice a pattern of the times these nightmares are occurring, we might be able to wake him briefly before they happen."

Harry felt the color flame to his cheeks; he really didn’t want to discuss this with all of them present. He had no intention of letting anyone "observe" him sleeping. He felt outnumbered and grew irritated. Ginny took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"That won’t be necessary, Miss Granger. I daresay Mr. Potter isn’t very fond of that idea, anyway. I believe I have an easier solution," Professor McGonagall said, holding up a container filled with a familiar purple liquid. "Miss Weasley, I’m going to place this in your possession. See to it that Mr. Potter takes a dose of the sleeping potion every third night."

She handed the phial to Ginny. Harry could see Hermione about to protest, no doubt wanting to be in charge of this herself. Harry was stunned and agitated. I’m neither helpless nor an idiot. He turned wide eyes on Professor McGonagall. "I don’t need a minder. I can take it myself."

"I’m certain you can, Mr. Potter. However, by getting Miss Weasley involved, I’m hoping it will force you to talk a little bit about the dreams that plague you. Professor Dumbledore and I both feel that this spontaneous Legilimency is your subconscious needing to get it out. The only way to take away the power of the dreams, Harry, is to confront them. Miss Weasley seems expert on confronting what irks her, and she appears rather fond of you," Professor McGonagall said with a brief smile. It was the brief, unusual use of his first name that diffused some of Harry’s anger. Besides, the thought of Ginny having a valid excuse to tuck him in at night was rather appealing.

Ginny smiled and took the container. "I think I’m up to that challenge. I’m happy to have something to do that might help."

"We’ll all help," said Hermione, staring at Harry with narrowed eyes. He was flabbergasted. Professor McGonagall had just given Ginny and Hermione free reign to discuss his dreams. He wanted to argue for the sake of his dignity, but seeing the pleased look on Ginny’s face halted him. She wanted to help, and he did need some assistance in making these dreams stop. Talking to his friends about the prophecy had helped him before – maybe it could again.

"Very well," Professor Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. "I see that I am leaving you in capable hands, Harry. Enjoy your day." He and Professor McGonagall left through the portrait hole, and Harry turned to his friends.

"So, should I lie down and tell you about my childhood?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What does your childhood have to do with nightmares about being tortured by a psycho-bitch from hell?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Language, Ron," Hermione hissed. "It’s a Muggle thing. Harry, what else did Professor Dumbledore talk to you about last night?"

Harry’s gaze flickered over each of their expectant faces. I might as well get this over with. "We talked a bit about Lucius Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Ron said, sitting up sharply. "What about him?"

"Remember when you told me you heard the Order mention his name before they started a meeting?" Harry asked. When Ron nodded, he continued, "Well, I also thought I saw him with the Death Eaters on the island."

"But…he’s dead," Hermione said. "Tonks killed him."

"That’s what I thought, too. I thought it was just my head playing tricks on me, since I’ve been thinking about him so much. But Professor Dumbledore said that when they examined the bodies after the battle at Malfoy Manor, Lucius wasn’t there. No one has seen him for certain since, either, though," Harry said, watching Ron carefully.

"So…the wily old fox might have escaped again, eh?" Ron asked, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms. "Why doesn’t that surprise me?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. Dumbledore also said we should avoid Hogsmeade visits."

"Another big surprise," Ron said dryly.

Hermione frowned. "How can this have happened? How could a body have disappeared with all those Order members there?"

"A body didn’t disappear. They had the right number, only Lucius Malfoy wasn’t one of them," Harry said.

"He always gets away," Ginny whispered. Harry squeezed her hand gently, and she returned the gesture with a small smile.

"Did Professor Dumbledore talk to you about anything else?" Hermione asked.

Harry could see that she was anxious to learn if he knew about the spell. "Why didn’t you say anything?" he asked.

"I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. Does Professor Dumbledore think it will work?" Hermione asked. She was barely able to contain her excitement.

"What are you on about?" asked Ron. He and Ginny both had puzzled frowns plastered on their faces.

"Hermione found a curse that we might be able to use to counteract Voldemort’s immortality," Harry replied calmly.

Ron’s mouth gaped open. "What? When? Why didn’t you say anything?"

Ginny took a harsh intake of breath. "Really, Hermione?" she asked.

Hermione turned to Ginny. "Well, it’s still in the preliminary stages, but…it might work. Harry, you have to be in control of the spell. Who is going to be training you?" Hermione asked.

"Aberforth. He’ll be here tomorrow."

"Why didn’t you tell us?" asked Ron, still staring at Hermione.

"I didn’t want to get Harry’s hopes up, and I wasn’t certain of all my facts. I sent my notes along with the text to Emmeline for verification. She had access to a wider variety of translations," Hermione explained.

"Congratulations, Hermione; this is wonderful. No wonder the Institute is so taken with you," Ginny said.

Hermione’s eyes flew open wide, and Ginny bit down on her lip.

"What about the Institute? They’re interested in you, Hermione? That’s brilliant. What did they say when you said you were going to be an Auror?" Ron asked.

Harry didn’t know what the Institute was, but he could read Hermione’s panicked expression and knew it was something she hadn’t discussed with Ron. He could sense a row boiling and wondered if, like him, Hermione was considering a career path that didn’t involve becoming an Auror. He knew Ron would be devastated if they both backed out of it.

"Oh, they simply sent me some pamphlets," Hermione said, averting her eyes.

Harry wanted to derail this, so he stood up. "I want to go up to the Owlry and check on Hedwig. I haven’t seen her since Privet Drive. D’you want to play some Quidditch later?"

"Sounds good," Ron said, instantly distracted by the chance to play Quidditch. "I’ll ask around and see if anyone else wants to play. I suppose you do, right, Ginny?"

"Of course. I’ll go up to the Owlry with you, Harry. I want to send Delilah with a letter to Mum."

"Delilah," Harry chuckled, still highly amused by the name she’d given her pet owl. At first, she’d called the owl Fauntleroy before realizing it was a she. Harry had laughed outright when she first told him, and he still couldn’t keep a straight face each time he heard the name.

"Better than Pigwidgeon, like she named mine," grumbled Ron.

Harry snorted. "Ginny, if we ever have children – I’m naming them," he said, laughing. He didn’t notice the stunned expression that crossed Ginny’s face as she followed him through the portrait hole.

Harry and Ginny were lying on their backs by the lake, and trying to see shapes in the clouds. Harry had spent some time visiting Hedwig. She’d seemed happy to see him after such a long absence, and she had perched on his shoulder while he pet her. She’d followed him around for most of the day, and, even now, sat on a low-hanging branch above them, keeping one eye open and trained on the pair. Harry had to chuckle; she was acting like a chaperone. Mrs. Weasley had kept a close eye on them on the island, and he wondered if she’d instructed Hedwig to do the same here at Hogwarts.

Harry and Ginny spent the afternoon on the Quidditch pitch, playing a pick-up game with Ron and some of their housemates. Harry was thrilled to get back on his broom; he hadn’t flown on it since the match against Slytherin the previous spring. The thrill he felt from being in the air hadn’t faded in the least since the first time he flew, and he was anxious for Quidditch season to commence.

"Look at that one," Ginny said, pointing to a cloud. "I can see a broomstick."

Harry turned his head, trying to see it from the angle she was looking. "I suppose…I think you still have Quidditch on the brain, though."

"Oh, like you don’t. You looked really good up there today, Harry. Ron was nearly jumping out of his skin to get practices started," Ginny replied, running her fingers through his hair.

Harry nuzzled his head into her fingers. "I love when you do that," he whispered.

Ginny giggled. "I’ve always had a thing for your impossibly messy hair, Harry. I think the reason I started dating Michael Corner in the first place was that his hair was the same color as yours."

Harry turned to look at her, stunned. "Really? I thought you were over me."

Ginny smiled, but it was a sad smile, just the same. "No. I think you were the only one who every really believed that. You know I had a huge crush on you my first year," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived."

"No. That certainly added to it, mind. My crush on you started that first time I saw you in the train station. I was instantly smitten with your ragamuffin appeal. It only grew when I learned who you were. And I’ll have you know that you weren’t even the first one of my brothers’ friends on whom I developed a crush. Fred and George had a mate named Andy who moved away when I was seven; I was quite taken with him for a while, too," Ginny said, laughing as she recalled her younger self.

Harry felt strangely hurt. "So…I wasn’t your first crush?"

"Sorry, luv…but you’ll be my last and greatest. Really, it was Tom who killed the crush," she said quietly.

Harry was instantly alert. "How do you mean?"

Ginny paused for a moment. "That was the hardest summer…after the Chamber. I felt so out of place with everyone, so ashamed."

"It wasn’t your fault, Ginny. He took advantage of you," Harry said, anger making his blood boil.

"I know that now. At the time, though…well, let’s just say that crushes and normal things didn’t really matter anymore. I could never go back to being that innocent little girl again – I’d changed. The trip we took to Egypt helped a lot. My mother babied me incessantly, of course, but it felt good to be babied for a while, so I let her. Of course, we had a fair number of rows over it, as well. By the time we returned to the Burrow, I had recuperated and felt ready to return to school. Of course, that’s when we got word that you’d run away, and we were all in a panic again."

"I never knew any of that," Harry said, feeling stunned.

Ginny shrugged. "After we were back at school, I kind of avoided everyone for a while, even you. By my third year, I had my own friends and kept busy. Whenever I saw you, I must admit, I knew I still had a thing for you, although I tried to deny it. It wasn’t a crush anymore. By then, I had real feelings for you, but I decided all we would ever be was friends. So I tried to accept that."

"Hermione told me you were over me."

"That’s because I tried to convince everyone of that, and you were daft enough to believe it. I gave up on the idea that you were ever going to notice me, so I moved on with Michael. You were really hung up on Cho at the time, and, somehow, that still hurt. Michael paid attention to me, and it was a nice change."

"I’m sorry, Ginny. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but I wasn’t ready for you then," Harry replied. They’d never really talked about this, but something told him it needed to be said.

"I know that now, but it was still difficult at the time. I used to run my fingers in Michael’s hair, trying to muss it up. Looking back now, I understand why," she admitted.

Harry was rather put out with the idea of her running her fingers through anyone else’s hair. "Well, he obviously didn’t know a good thing when he had it," he said sulkily.

Ginny laughed harshly. "No. He used to get so mad at me when I mussed his perfect hair. He really wasn’t my type at all."

Harry felt better, hearing her say that. "No, definitely not one of your better judgement calls."

"Oh! And you’re one to talk. You and Cho Chang weren’t exactly suited for each other, either."

Harry chuckled. "I know. I was thirteen, and my hormones were just waking up. She was pretty, and she smiled and didn’t stare at me like a freak; it was a nice change from what I was used to at the time. As soon as we actually started to get to know one another, it all fell apart."

"I nearly danced naked on top of the Astronomy tower when that happened," Ginny said, giggling.

"Well, if I’d known that I had a chance of seeing that, I would have done it a whole lot sooner," Harry replied, smirking.

Ginny smacked him on the arm. "Prat."

"You’ll have to forgive me for acting like a teenage boy, Gin, seeing that I was a teenage boy at the time."

Ginny laughed. "You’re still a teenage boy, Harry, and I know for a fact you still let your hormones lead you astray on occasion."

Harry began nibbling at her ear. "Yeah, but I haven’t noticed you complaining about them anymore."

"Well, I’m much more fond of your hormones now that it’s me they’re noticing."

"They always noticed you, Gin. It just took me a while to figure out what it meant," Harry said earnestly. He rolled over and leaned in for a better angle to kiss her. She parted her lips for his tongue, and they began to snog intensely while enjoying the warmth of the sun and the crinkle of the leaves. They’d been together for nearly a year, and though their physical relationship remained chaste, they had moved on to some innocent exploration.

"Harry," Ginny said, biting on her lip. "This morning you joked about us having kids someday. Did you mean that?"

Harry stopped kissing her neck, and his body tensed. He pulled back and looked at her closely. He needed for her to understand. "Ginny, I can’t make you any promises. I know I love you, and I always want to be with you…but my life still isn’t my own. Until this is over…until the prophecy is fulfilled…I have nothing to offer you."

"Of course, you do. I’m not asking for a commitment; I’m just asking about your hopes and dreams. You’re allowed to have them, the same as anyone else. Don’t let Voldemort take that from you, too, Harry."

Harry smiled and pulled her tightly into an embrace. "Well, I know we’re young…but my parents married right out of school. Remus told me they did. So, yeah…if I ever let myself think about a future, I see a house with you and a bunch of kids. I want a family; I’ve always wanted one. I think I’d like for the oldest two to be twins, so that when they go off to Hogwarts, they’d have a partner…like Fred and George. Then they’d never be alone."

Ginny smiled a sad sort of smile. "You’re not alone, either, Harry."

"I know that now."

"And, if the oldest two are twins so they won’t have to be at Hogwarts alone, then the youngest two should be twins, as well, so one won’t be left behind," Ginny stated firmly.

"You must have been lonely that year Ron left, huh?" Harry asked.

"I was miserable. Mum and Dad tried, but the house seemed so quiet and empty. Ron kept writing about all the wonderful adventures he was having with you. I was tearing my hair out. I worry about next year, too. After you, Ron, Hermione, and Neville leave, I’ll still have a full year on my own."

"Luna will still be here with you."

"I know, but it’s not the same."

"I know. You’ll be okay, though, Ginny. No matter what happens."

"Don’t you dare start talking like you won’t be here, Harry. You’re going to be starting on your first year at the Auror Academy, while I complete my seventh year. After that, we’ve both got some dreams to fulfill."

Harry remained silent; he knew he could promise her nothing, no matter how much he wanted to promise her everything. He knew he would do anything for her, and if he did manage to survive the coming storm, he’d willingly spend the rest of his life making her happy. He’d never wanted any of the fame, the glory, or the celebrity status that went along with his crazy existence, but he did want her. He hoped he’d one day get the chance to show her how much. Ginny grew agitated with his prolonged silence.

"Promise me you’ll be here, Harry," she whispered desperately.

"You know I can’t promise you that, Ginny. But I’m going to give it everything I’ve got, trying. Do me a favor and keep telling me about our future, even if I won’t answer. I like thinking about it," he replied.

Ginny hugged him fiercely. This was a request she could fulfill, if that’s what he needed to hear. She had dreams enough to share for a lifetime.

Late in the afternoon, Harry and Ginny decided to head inside and get ready for dinner. They’d visited Dobby in the kitchens earlier, and he’d prepared them a picnic lunch, so they hadn’t seen Ron and Hermione since they’d played Quidditch.

As they were walking along the corridor, hand-in-hand and heading to Gryffindor tower, they spotted a familiar face walking towards them. Her hair was pulled back in its customary plait, and she wore a brightly colored sari as she had on the island, rather than robes. Harry noticed the portraits along the walls watching her as she passed.

"Cordelia," Ginny shouted before hesitating. "Erm…I mean…"

"It’s all right, dearie," Cordelia said, laughing. "You’ll need to call me Professor Monroe in class, but Cordelia is fine when we’re socializing. How are the two of you? You both have nice rosy cheeks, so I gather you’ve been outside enjoying this glorious day."

"Yeah," Harry replied. "We played some Quidditch earlier, then went for a walk by the lake."

"I see," said Cordelia, raising an elegantly arched eyebrow. "A walk, hmmm. Yes, walking is a pleasant way to spend a free day. Are you ready to start classes tomorrow?" she asked with amusement.

Both Harry and Ginny flushed, well aware that she knew they hadn’t been walking. Both chose to ignore her. "I’m ready," Ginny said. "I’m sorry I won’t be able to take your class, though. I only got an A on my Potions OWL." Ginny was actually a very good Potions student, and had considered a career as a Healer. Without Potions, it wouldn’t be possible, however. Harry felt tremendously guilty, knowing the reason she’d done poorly on her OWLs was the fact that he’d been in hospital. Ginny insisted that the Healer idea was more her mother’s than her own, however.

"I see you didn’t hear the announcement at lunch," Cordelia replied.

"What announcement?" asked Harry.

"As the new Potions teacher, I’ve lowered the acceptance criteria. I’ll take any student who has passed the OWL exam. I’m confident enough that I can pull them up to snuff. Your brother, Ron, has been working with me all summer, and he’s going to be taking my class. I think he’ll be all right by the time he sits for his NEWTs."

"You mean…I can still take Potions?" Ginny asked, stunned.

"Of course you can, dearie, simply talk to Professor McGonagall about adjusting your timetable. How about you, Harry, are you ready for classes to start?"

"I think so. I’m a bit worried about Defense, though. It’s always been my favorite class, but I don’t know how it will be with Snape teaching," Harry said.

"I don’t see why it should make a difference. From what Abe tells me, you’re well past normal NEWT level, anyway."

"I’m certain Professor Snape will try to disprove that theory," Harry commented dryly.

"Well, don’t you let him, dearie. You know your strengths; use them and don’t back down. From what I understand, he’s going to have the NEWT classes dueling with each other. You certainly won’t have a problem with that."

Harry grinned. "I’m positive that Snape will have a whole different set of rules just for me."

"Well, then…be certain those rules work to your best advantage," Cordelia said, smiling.

Ginny frowned suddenly. "Has the acceptance criteria changed for Defense, as well? I mean, Snape only let students who scored an O on their OWL into his Potions class."

Harry suddenly realized that Cordelia was the only adult he’d ever spoken with that hadn’t insisted he use Snape’s title.

"He tried, but Professor Dumbledore feels it’s necessary for everyone to have Defense training, considering the fact that we’re at war, so the criteria remains unchanged," Cordelia replied.

"Bet Snape loved that," said Harry.

"Listen, dearies, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you both at dinner," Cordelia said as she walked away.

"You go on ahead, Harry. I just want to stop by Professor McGonagall’s class and transfer into Potions," Ginny said.

Before he had the chance to answer, he was distracted by Ron, who stormed around the corner with a murderous look upon his face.

"Ron, what’s the matter?" Ginny asked.

"I’ve just come from a blazing row with Hermione. We’re through," Ron snarled.

Harry and Ginny stood there with their mouths gaping open.

Chapter Fifteen: Defense Against the Dark Arts

The next morning arrived all too quickly, with the usual rush of students preparing for their first class. Harry rolled out of bed and tried to work the kinks out of his neck. His mind strayed back to the previous evening; it had been very strange. He and Ginny had listened in shock to Ron as he ranted about Hermione. He complained that she was altering all their future plans without so much as asking if he had an opinion. He felt that if they were going to build a life together, shouldn’t that mean that they both got some input on their future? He was tired of her superior attitude. She automatically assumed that he should just go along with whatever it was she decided, and he’d had enough. He was livid and jumped down Ginny’s throat when she tried to reason with him, accusing her of taking Hermione’s side. Ginny – who never took getting shouted at well – finally stormed off, yelling that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Harry stayed with Ron, who proceeded to communicate in a series of grunts and monosyllables until dinner rolled around. He knew from vast experience that Ron and Hermione’s points of view on whatever it was they were arguing over were usually vastly different from each other. He also knew that the truth usually lay somewhere in between. He did his best to stay out of the middle, hoping they’d work it out. It had never occurred to him that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t always be together. They seemed so natural; he’d never given the idea that they could break up a second thought.

The possibility of them going their own separate ways troubled him greatly – both because he thought neither was at their best without the other, but also because of what it would mean to their friendship. Were Ron and Hermione capable of putting a failed relationship behind them and still remain friends? Harry wasn’t too confident of that idea. Neither was very good at backing down. Would he have to see only one at a time? Would he and Ginny end up going on double dates with Ron and his dates, and Hermione and hers? It would be very strange. Obviously, Harry had a strong connection to the entire Weasley family, not only through Ron, but Ginny, as well. He hoped that wouldn’t make Hermione feel left out. He was well-acquainted with that isolated, left-out sort of feeling and wouldn’t wish it on her for anything in the world.

Dinner was tense and uncomfortable. Hermione and Ginny came down for dinner, but sat separately from he and Ron. Hermione looked as if she’d been crying, but she held her head high. Although refusing to speak to Ron, she nodded to Harry with a weary smile. Ginny kept casting Harry troubled glances, but Ron didn’t even comment on Hermione’s presence. Harry knew he’d noticed, however. His body language gave him away the instant she’d entered the hall. His shoulders stiffened, and his ears turned red. He piled the food on his plate and attacked it as if it needed to be punished.

Harry made several half-hearted attempts to talk about it with Ron, but Ron would quickly change the subject to Quidditch, and Harry finally let it go. Ron would talk when he was ready. Besides, Harry wasn’t all that keen to get into an emotional discussion, anyway. Ron devoured an enormous dinner, even for his standards. Apparently, his reaction to being upset was the polar opposite to Harry’s.

Harry spent the evening playing chess with Ron, and he nearly won a game, because Ron wasn’t paying much attention. Ron decided to head to bed early, and Harry found himself alone in the common room. He played a game of Exploding Snap with Neville, filling him in on what was going on with Ron and Hermione, before Ginny came downstairs, already dressed for bed. She held a phial of the Dreamless Sleep Potion that Professor McGonagall had given her in her hand and nodded her head slightly towards the stairs.

Harry followed her up into the boy’s dormitory; Ron’s snores could be heard from behind the closed bed hangings that surrounded his bed. Harry changed his clothes in the bathroom and returned to the room to climb into bed.

"Are you going to tuck me in?" he asked Ginny with a smirk.

"If you’d like," she said, smiling. He gulped the potion and pulled her into a kiss before the effects overtook him. As he began to get drowsy, she fluffed his pillow and asked, "Harry, how did you find out Professor Trent was a Metamorphmagus?"

Harry was slightly taken back by the question, but the potion was beginning to work, and it made him feel kind of woozy. She leaned back beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. He put his head on top of hers and explained what had happened the night he and Ron met with Malfoy in the corridor by the hump-backed witch. She prodded him through the confrontation and how Professor Trent had joined them. He told the story up to the part where Wormtail had joined them in the tunnel by Honeydukes before falling asleep. It had been easy to tell her. Maybe it was because of the potion, maybe because he was getting used to talking about things with her. He wasn’t certain which, but either way, it hadn’t been a stressful conversation, and he was okay with it.

The next morning, facing the light of day, he realized that she’d successfully managed to do what she set out to do – got him to open up about part of the kidnapping. He smiled inwardly at her tenacity and sincerely hoped it would help. He knew Remus really wanted him to open up and talk about it. He also knew Remus was more than willing to talk about it with him. Somehow, he just didn’t feel he could open up that much to Remus. It was easier with Ginny. He wasn’t certain that he’d ever be able to get through everything that happened in that cell, but maybe taking it one step at a time would work.

After showering and dressing, he met Ginny and Hermione in the common room and headed down to breakfast. Apparently, Ron had already gone downstairs. Hermione looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept well.

"All right, Hermione?" he asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"I know you’ll take his side, Harry, so you might as well just go and sit over there," she said, nodding her head to a spot further down the table, where Ron sat with Neville and Dean. Hermione’s tone sounded slightly hysterical, as if she’d worked herself into a state over the idea of losing both her best friends.

"I’m not taking either side, Hermione. I’m hoping you two can work it out," he said, trying to reassure her. Ginny nodded emphatically.

"I’m not certain this one will work out, Harry. I’ve made my decision. I’ve thought a lot about this, and I want to go to work at the Institute. Ron is acting like I’ve betrayed him for wanting something different from what we’d planned."

"You know how Ron is, Hermione – he’s all bark at first. He’ll come around after he has a chance to think about it properly," Harry reasoned.

"I don’t know, Harry. All last year, Ron never gave up on the idea of becoming an Auror. Even when he didn’t get into Snape’s Potions class – he always believed everything would work out. When Cordelia trained him, and then let him in her class, he thought he was set. When he learned that I was having second thoughts, he just…he blew a gasket," Hermione said, ending with her nose in a tissue. Ginny consoled her by patting her back.

"I think that his pride might be hurt since you didn’t talk with him before your decision was final," Ginny said tentatively, biting her lip.

"Hermione, you have to do what feels right for you. Ron knows that…he just doesn’t like surprises. He’ll come around," Harry said. He knew Ron, and he knew how proud he was of Hermione’s intelligence. He would never hold her back intentionally.

"We’ll see," said Hermione, shrugging. "He hasn’t been himself lately, and he doesn’t want to listen to me. I think he’s using the idea of becoming an Auror as a grounding force – something he can control. To be honest, I’m not certain that’s even what Ron really wants. He only decided to be an Auror because it’s what you want to do, and he wants us all to stay together."

"We’ll always be together, Hermione," Harry said firmly. "Even if we all take jobs on opposite ends of the world, we’ll stay together. You, Ron, and Ginny are my family, and I have no intention of giving any of you up."

Harry was startled when Hermione flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Ginny joined in on the other side so he was sandwiched between them. "We love you, too, Harry," Ginny said, sniffling.

"Of course, we do," said Hermione.

Professor McGonagall – who was handing out their timetables – interrupted them. "Here you are. See to it that you arrive to your first class on time," she said sternly as she moved along the table. Harry grabbed his and tried to rush past the awkwardness he felt over their embrace.

"What’s this Wizarding Living class?" asked Harry, staring at his timetable.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, sounding exasperated. "Didn’t you read any of the material in your Head Boy letter? Wizarding Living is a required class for all seventh-year students. It meets once a week and basically prepares us for life on our own. We’ll be shown simple household charms, how banking with the Goblins works, and what will be expected of us under wizarding law."

Harry scratched his head. "Well, I can understand how that would be helpful to you and me, since we were raised by Muggles, but you said all seventh-years have to take it."

"Of course, they do. Even children from pureblood families aren’t allowed to use magic at home, so they haven’t used most of these spells, even if they are aware of them. And honestly, have you ever seen Ron cook or take care of his own laundry? Are you certain he knows how to do it?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny snorted. "If it weren’t for the smell of food, Ron wouldn’t be able to find the kitchen. She’s right. I don’t know how to do most of those spells; Mum always does them, because I can’t use magic until I turn seventeen. When she gives us chores to do, we always have to do them the Muggle way."

"Who teaches it? How come I’ve never heard of it?" Harry asked, still feeling put out that he had an extra class on his timetable.

Hermione scowled in disapproval. Obviously, this must have been on the Head Boy letter, as well. "There isn’t a set teacher, all the faculty take turns showing us the different spells. Each year is never the same, and you haven’t heard about it because you’ve never been a seventh-year."

"We have double Potions first thing," Harry said, changing the subject. "For the first time since I’ve been here, that news doesn’t make me want to hex everyone in sight."

Ginny giggled. "I can’t wait for my first class with Cordelia. I don’t have Potions until Wednesday, though."

"What do you have today?" Harry asked.

"Urgh. Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon," Ginny groaned.

"Good, you can give me the inside track; I don’t have it until tomorrow," Harry replied.

"Are you really worried about it, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You and Snape seemed almost civil at the end of last year."

"That was before our blow-up the morning of the Ministry meeting. I haven’t seen him since. He’s also been under a lot of suspicion from Voldemort," Harry said quietly. Despite his anger with Snape, he still felt very guilty over the situation in which Snape found himself since helping with the escape from Malfoy Manor.

"He was still out of line that morning. His situation with Voldemort isn’t your fault. He chose to be a spy, and he knew the risks going into it," Ginny said, putting her arm around his shoulders. He looked over at her and smiled. How does she always know what I’m thinking?

"Speaking of the Ministry," Hermione said. "What’s going on with their plans to take you into custody?"

"Dunno. Dumbledore said the Ministry observer would be arriving today. I suppose we’ll see what happens when he gets here. There hasn’t been anything in the Prophet about the prophecy, so Fudge must be holding on to that information. I still think he’ll use it when it serves him best, however, " Harry replied. He’d been trying to steel himself for the time when everyone found out about the prophecy. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d be lucky enough to escape that bombshell.

"But Voldemort already knows about the prophecy, so there really isn’t a danger with everyone knowing. Except, of course, the unfair expectations on you, right?" Ginny asked, squeezing Harry’s waist in sympathy.

"No," Hermione said, furrowing her brow. "If people learn that Harry is the only one who can defeat him, they’ll stop even trying to resist him. They’ll cower and hide and demand that Harry solve the problem. As long as they feel we’re all in this together, at least there are some that will resist in any way they can. Most wizards still won’t even use his name; they’d jump on the idea of leaving the problem to someone else."

"She’s right," Harry said, sighing.

"I wonder who the observer will be," Ginny said. "I can’t imagine he’ll have a problem with Professor Dumbledore’s own brother instructing you."

"I dunno. I think Abe has had some run-ins with the Ministry in the past. I’ll let you know tonight," Harry said, standing up and kissing her head. "We’d better get to class. McGonagall is starting to scowl at us."

Ginny shook her head. "The trials of being Head Boy. I’ve got Ancient Runes first, so I’ll see you at lunch."

Ginny headed for her class, and Harry started walking towards the dungeons with Hermione. He glanced over his shoulder at Ron uneasily. Ron appeared to be ignoring them, but Harry knew better. Harry and Hermione had been the only two Gryffindors in their Potions class the previous year. Harry wondered if Ron was the only one who transferred into the class. If he were, partnering up would be difficult. Harry had always worked with Hermione last year, but how could he leave Ron completely on his own? He didn’t think Hermione would be in any mood to partner with Ron or help him out.

They entered the class to find it slightly larger than last year. Aside from Ron, there were three other new students: Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff, and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. Hermione walked right over to their regular table, and Harry followed. He saw Ron sit with Hannah Abbott, who had also been in their class last year. It suddenly occurred to Harry that the four students who had transferred into Potions were all male; he wondered how much Cordelia’s presence had to do with that.

Cordelia swept into the class and up to the desk at the front of the room. "Good morning, class, and welcome to NEWT-level Potions. I realize some of you are new to this class, and I’m going to do my best to help you along. You may have to stay for some additional tutoring, however. I’d suggest the students who did take this class last year try and help some of your new classmates catch up with their studies. With that in mind, I’m going to ask that you switch lab partners so that an experienced student is matched with each of the new arrivals. Harry and Ron, why don’t you two work together, while Hermione can work with Terry Boot. Hannah, you work with Justin, and Ernie can sit with Lisa.

Lisa Turpin, who had been sitting with Terry Boot, looked extremely put out by the shuffling. Harry thought he saw Hermione’s shoulders stiffen, as well, but everyone else complied.

"All right, then. I’m going to begin today’s lesson with a healing potion that some of you might remember from last year. I apologize to those of you who will find this repetitive, but I need a rough idea of where you all stand in order to plan my lessons accordingly. Also, I feel that in times of war, it is necessary for all of us to be able to brew various healing potions. This is a simple Strengthening Potion. Its effects are temporary, but it can be extremely useful in battle situations, and its shelf life is considerable. Many Aurors keep a dose with them while in the field, because although a complex Strengthening Potion is preferred in hospital, it isn’t practical in wartime. Its usefulness decreases rapidly; it needs to be freshly brewed for full effectiveness."

The class was staring at her in shock. They’d never had a Potions lesson actually explained in the past. Snape would usually simply put the instructions on the board and tell them to begin.

"What are you all waiting for?" Cordelia asked, smiling. "The ingredients and steps are on the board. I’ll be walking around the room to observe. Feel free to ask any questions you may have. Begin."

"This is one of the potions Cordelia and I worked on over the summer," Ron whispered. "I remember it; it shouldn’t be too bad."

"I think I’ve taken it before," said Harry.

"I doubt there are many healing potions you haven’t tried, mate."

Harry snorted. Unfortunately, Ron wasn’t kidding.

He and Ron finished their potion without any problems. Harry noticed Ron casting sideways glances at Hermione and Terry, who were chatting away while mixing their own potion. Most of the Slytherins seemed lost, due to the happy atmosphere in the Potions dungeon.

When the bell rang, Ron picked up his things and started out the door. He turned back to Harry, who had paused to glance uncertainly at Hermione. "Come on, I’m starving," Ron said.

"Look, if you two don’t want to work things out, can’t we at least all still eat together?" Harry asked in exasperation.

"You go on ahead," Hermione answered coolly. "I promised Terry I’d help him get started on his Potions homework."

Ron shrugged and headed out the door, but Harry noticed the distinctive red tinge on his ears. He followed Ron up to the Great Hall, where lunch was already underway. They joined Ginny and Neville at the Gryffindor table. Harry sat next to Ginny, giving her a slight hip-check as he did.

"Hey. How were your first classes?" he asked, smiling brightly.

Ginny returned the smile. "All right. Homework is lighter than last year, so it gives me a chance to do some extra to bring my marks up a bit."

Neville nodded. "Sixth year is good – in between the OWLs and NEWTs. They don’t push you as hard."

"Good," Ginny said.

"Don’t let your mother hear you say that," Harry teased.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "So, how was class with Cordelia?"

"Pretty good. She did some reviewing, but I think our class will be different from all the others, seeing as we are the only class to have students who missed a year," Harry said. "She paired new students with old; Ron and I partnered."

Ginny’s eyes flickered over towards her brother, who hadn’t uttered a word since they sat down. Ginny’s expression was neutral, but Harry could tell she was itching to lay into Ron for his break up with Hermione. "What did you think, Ron?" she asked coolly.

"We’ve never even had a class with the Ravenclaws until last year; how would we ever get so friendly?" Ron asked grumpily.

Ginny was confused, but Harry hid his smirk behind a glass of pumpkin juice. "I’ve had plenty of classes with the Ravenclaws, but only one with the Hufflepuffs. I think they just arrange them according to whatever works. What does that have to do with your Potions class?" Ginny asked, her forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"N-nothing," replied Ron.

"Ron, are you ill? Did you take anything from Fred or George before the train departed? You should know better than to trust anything they give you. Why are you acting so odd?" Ginny asked with a frown.

"Odd, am I?" Ron yelled, his voice growing louder on each syllable. "Fine. Take her side; you’re going to, anyway. I’ll see you in the Room of Requirement after Hagrid’s class, Harry," Ron said before pushing his tray away, getting up, and storming away from the table.

Harry calmly looked over at Ginny. "You certainly have a way with people, dear."

"He’s gone mad. What set him off?" Ginny asked, giggling.

"Hermione was partnered with Terry Boot, and she stayed after class to help him with some homework," Harry answered, piling some roasted chicken on his plate.

Ginny’s eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline. "Terry Boot, huh?"

"Why? Is there something I don’t know about Terry Boot?"

"Hermione has taken Arithmancy with him for years; he’s always had a crush on her," Ginny said with a smirk.

"Merlin, don’t tell Ron that," Harry said, wondering how it could have escaped his notice all this time. Although, the more he thought about it, the less surprising it became. He’d always been rubbish at picking up on anything to do with feelings. He usually needed to be hit bluntly in the face before he recognized them.

"What do you mean ‘don’t tell Ron’? Of course I’m going to tell him. I’m his little sister, Harry. It’s my job to torment him," Ginny said before turning back towards her lunch.

Harry wasn’t certain if she was serious, but, somehow, he suspected she was. He caught Neville’s eye across the table, and the other boy quickly turned away. Harry was certain he saw Neville hiding a grin behind a chicken leg.

"So, you’re going up to meet with Abe next?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Yeah. I’m not certain what he has planned to start, but I’m certain we’ll begin working on the curse soon. After Ron joins us, we’re going to practice fencing."

"I’m off to Defense with Snape," Ginny said with a frown. "I’ll let you know how it goes."

"Okay, see you after class."

Harry headed up to the Room of Requirement and found Abe already inside waiting for him. He was dressed in robes but wearing a polka-dotted Muggle necktie tied around his head. He had his rock-and-roll music blaring, though he turned the volume down when he caught sight of Harry.

"Good afternoon, laddie. How’s it hanging?" Abe said in greeting.

Harry chuckled; he couldn’t help but like Abe. "It’s hanging fine, Abe. You know, most Muggles wear those around their necks."

"Eh? What do Muggles know? Why would I willingly put a noose around my own neck as a fashion statement? Come on in; we’ve got to get working on this ruddy Curse of the Damned. Who names this stuff, anyway?" Abe asked.

"I’d like to practice some spellwork today, as well, just to be ready for tomorrow," Harry said.

"Why? What’s happening tomorrow that I don’t know about?" Abe asked, looking at him sharply.

"My first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson…with Snape," Harry said darkly.

"Now, you know I’m supposed to tell you its Professor Snape, lad. Worried about it, are you?" Abe asked with a grin.

"Well…I’m not looking forward to it, exactly," Harry replied sheepishly.

"I’ve never had a problem with Snape. At least you always know where you stand – he hates everyone. Some more than others, however."

"That would be me."

"Your own lack of self-confidence is your greatest challenge. Do you think Snape could beat you in a duel?" Abe asked.

Harry thought about it for a minute. If it were a Legilimency lesson, or something that involved brewing a Potion, Harry knew Snape would wipe the floor with him, but in a duel? "I don’t think so," Harry said quietly, feeling awkward admitting he thought he could beat a teacher. "If I had to, I think I could win."

"Exactly, and you can. You’re an excellent duelist and a very powerful wizard, Harry. Don’t let him intimidate you. Walk into that class with confidence, show them what you’re made of, and ignore anything ole Snape has to say. Al always did like to bring home strays."

Harry snorted, enjoying the image in his head.

"All right, now. There is no way to practice this spell without invoking it, so what we need to do is work on strengthening your natural power so you’ll be able to control the spell. I’m going to teach you some advanced Transfiguration – how to animate lifeless objects. I’m certain Professor McGonagall will be covering this stuff this year, as well. What I want you to be able to do is animate things to defend you, if needed," Abe said.

"Professor Dumbledore did something like that in the Department of Mysteries during my fifth year," Harry said, his heart still clenching with the memory of that night.

"Yes, Al is quite good with Transfiguration – always was a bit of a show-off, if you ask me," Abe said with a grin.

They spent the afternoon practicing. Harry made some progress, but felt it would be some time before he caught up to Dumbledore’s abilities, if ever. When Ron joined them in the Room of Requirement, both were ready for a new diversion. Ron burst into laughter when he got a look at Abe.

"Did you lose, and Harry got to pick your outfit?" Ron asked.

Abe pulled himself up in a mock-dignified manner. "I do believe that if I had any care whatsoever to fashion, I’d be insulted. Therefore, it’s a good thing I couldn’t care less."

Both Harry and Ron chuckled.

"Have you done any fencing before, lad?" Abe asked Ron.

"No, sir."

"Okay. We’ll have Harry take it easy on you, then. Just some basic moves. I’ll charm the swords so that you won’t accidentally cut anything off, but why don’t you two put on your protective gear, anyway," Abe said.

Harry grinned at Ron. "Don’t worry, Ron. I’ll go as easy on you as you did on me when you first taught me to play chess."

Ron visibly gulped. "Right."

After they’d put on some armor, Ron tried to pick up a sword. Harry watched him as he stumbled slightly, and his eyes grew wide.

"They’re much heavier than I thought," he said.

Harry grinned, remembering how his arms shook with fatigue the first time he’d practiced with Remus. "I know. It surprises you, doesn’t it?"

"Yeah," Ron said, taking a firmer grip and practicing a few slicing motions. "It always looked so easy when I’ve seen anyone use them before."

Abe showed Ron some basic moves and whispered a few tips in his ear to make him grin.

"What are you saying to him?" Harry asked in mock indignation.

"Don’t get your knickers in a twist, laddie. Can’t let you have all the secret weapons, now, can we? Eh? What would that teach you? All right, I’m going to put on some music to get your hearts pumping, and you two do your stuff. I’m going to have a smoke. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to Al. He thinks I quit a long time ago." Abe was silent for a moment. He stood still, wearing a thoughtful expression, then added, "Best if you didn’t tell Cordelia, either."

He moved to the back of the room and pulled out a crumpled up pack of cigarettes while Ron and Harry grinned.

"He certainly doesn’t remind me of Professor Dumbledore," Ron said.

"Actually, he does me. They’re very different outwardly, but…I dunno, there is something there that is very similar."

Ron scratched his head. "If you say so, mate."

The two boys sparred for a while, but since Ron was a complete beginner, Harry easily bested him. When they’d both grown fatigued, Harry threw a towel towards Ron, who stared at Abe. Abe was reading a book and humming along with the music, but the smoke from whatever he was smoking definitely didn’t smell like nicotine.

"This was good, Harry. Thanks," Ron said, changing his shirt and not looking at him.

"No problem. It helped me last year to get out some aggression," Harry said, shrugging.

"I know I’m being a prat, but I can’t help it. I’m fine, then I just get so hacked off about everything. I didn’t even like Malfoy – but I don’t like that it was me who killed him. I think this fencing might help. It’ll make me too tired to want to argue, anyway," Ron said.

"That alone is worth it, then," Harry replied with a grin before turning serious. "I’m sorry, Ron. I know it cost you a lot, and I know you did it for me-"

"Don’t, Harry," Ron interrupted. "You couldn’t defend yourself at that point; you were exhausted. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. Even now, knowing what I know, if I had to chose between him living so I wouldn’t be a killer, or losing you – I’d do everything the same way again and again. It’s no contest, really. Moody told me that the first one is the hardest, which really wasn’t all that comforting. I just wasn’t prepared for it. I thought I was going to be used as a bargaining chip against you. It would be easier if I’d known a fight was coming."

"No, it wouldn’t," Harry said softly. He knew the fight with Voldemort was coming and that he’d have to kill or be killed. He’d known for over a year now, and he still felt as if he was being strangled by the knowledge at times.

"I suppose not," Ron said, sighing. "Still, if we’re going to be Aurors, I suppose we have to get used to the idea. It’s not just Malfoy; I get so angry when I think about Charlie, too. Did you know he was the one who showed me how to fly? I was four or five, and he used to sneak me out to the paddock and take me on rides on his broom. He let me try by myself one day, and Mum nearly killed him. Ginny told on us, because she was angry that he wouldn’t let her have a go. Even though I haven’t seen him much recently, suddenly knowing I can’t makes me miss him." Ron’s voice trailed off at the end.

"And it makes you angry with him," Harry said quietly, nodding as if Ron were speaking his own thoughts.

"I am not angry with Charlie," Ron spat.

Harry quirked one eyebrow and waited patiently for Ron to speak again.

"Okay, maybe I am. I know it’s stupid, but he charged down that alleyway without even thinking."

"It’s not stupid to be angry at him…I think it might be normal," Harry said, remembering feeling the same thing toward Sirius.

"How do you know what’s normal?" Ron demanded, still sounding angry.

Harry again quirked his eyebrow, this time so far it reached his hairline.

"Oh. Right," Ron mumbled.

"I was angry with Sirius for a long time, although I didn’t want to admit it. I think I can remember being angry with my parents when I was little, too. Even this summer, I’ve had bouts of anger towards Jonathan," Harry said, sighing.

"Great, so my life is turning into yours," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Harry snorted. "Suppose so."

"It sucks to be you."

"Yeah, sometimes," Harry said. "What about Hermione? You can’t keep avoiding each other, and I don’t want to be in the middle."

Ron scowled. "Sorry, mate, but I think you’re stuck there for a while. I think some time apart might do us both some good."

"Do you really mean that?" Harry asked, stunned.

"Yeah, I do."

Abe interrupted them. "All right, boys, time’s up for today. I got a note from Al that the Ministry worker has arrived and is meeting with him now. I’m going up to Al’s office to join them."

"Do I need to be there?" Harry asked, hoping he didn’t.

"No. I’m certain the meddling bloke will join us at your next lesson. Go find your lady friend and have a snog," Abe said with a grin.

"Ewww," Ron said, scrunching up his face in disgust. "That’s my sister!"

"And a dishy little number she is," Abe called out as he left the room. Harry quietly slipped out the door while Ron was still grumbling.

He found Ginny’s dot on the Marauder’s Map. She was sitting out by the lake in the same hidden spot he’d used when he grieved for Sirius in fifth year. With a perplexed frown, he left the common room and headed downstairs and out the front doors.

He found Ginny sitting with her back against a tree, crying softly and wiping at her eyes with a well-worn handkerchief.

"Ginny!" Harry cried in alarm. He rushed down the slippery embankment and sat by her side. "What’s wrong, luv? What happened?" He took her in his arms and pulled her tightly against him. His chest felt constricted; he hated to see her cry.

Ginny sniffed and swiped angrily at her tears. "Oh, Harry, it’s nothing. We were in Defense class, and we started talking about dragons. It was stupid, really…but it made me think of Charlie." Ginny’s voice broke on the last word, and she buried her face into Harry’s chest.

Harry winced. "I’m sorry, Ginny. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better. It’s not stupid. I remember how random little things about Sirius used to make me sad for quite a while after I lost him."

"You do make me feel better. Being with you makes me feel better," she said, sighing and snuggling closer.

"Well, then, you’ll just have to snuggle up more often."

She giggled. "I’m sorry to cry all over you again, Harry. I’m really not usually such a faucet."

"Shut it, Ginny. You just lost one of your brothers. You’re supposed to cry, and I want you to come to me. I certainly cried on you a fair share last year, and you said that I was supposed to do that. That friends were supposed to support each other," Harry said, stroking her hair.

Ginny was silent for a minute, but Harry could see her twisting her lips back and forth in a scowl. Finally, she said, "I really hate it when you’re right, and I hate it even more when you throw my own words back at me." She grumpily crossed her arms and leaned back against him.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. "Sorry." He tried to keep his face straight, knowing his amusement was irritating her, but he couldn’t help it and burst into laughter when he saw her lips twitch.

"You’re impossible," Ginny said with a grin. "You have no idea how lucky you are that I think you’re cute."

"You’re pretty cute when you’re grumpy, too. How was Defense with Snape?" he asked, trying to change the subject before she hexed him.

"Urgh, he’s such a git. I think he’s really unhappy that he couldn’t put restrictions on who took the class. He was in a foul mood, particularly when everyone in the DA performed so well. I really think you ruined his day without even being there," Ginny said with a smirk.

"Great, so he’ll take points from me even before I sit down tomorrow," Harry said, shaking his head.

"So, what else is new?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Too true."

"How was your training? What happened with the Ministry observer?" Ginny asked.

"Never met him. Abe went up to meet with him and Professor Dumbledore. Abe said he thought he’d be there at our next lesson. I’m more concerned about Defense class right now."

"Oh, Harry. You’ll be fine. You can handle whatever Snape dishes out," Ginny said, squeezing him with affection.

"I hope you’re right."

Harry dragged his feet on his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts the next morning, trailing behind Ron and Hermione. Neither of them was speaking to the other, and Harry’s stomach, already in knots from dreading the confrontation with Snape, clenched in misery.

"Come on, Harry. Dawdling won’t change anything, and if we’re late it will only make it worse," Hermione said, cajoling him into walking faster.

"Easy for you to say. You’re not the one he’s going to jump all over first thing," Ron replied.

"He’s certainly never been overly friendly to me, but he’s still a teacher, and there is no sense in looking for trouble," Hermione snapped.

Ron rolled his eyes. Trying to divert a fight, Harry hurried his pace to walk between the two of them. "It’ll be fine. Like Abe said, I know what I can do, so Snape won’t make a difference."

Ron snorted. "Too right, mate."

They were the last of the Gryffindors to arrive, but managed to take their seats – Harry sitting between Ron and Hermione – before Snape swept into the room, slamming the door behind him. His gaze swept coldly across the room. Harry wondered how he would handle a class of entirely Gryffindors.

"Good morning. This is your final year of Defense Against the Dark Arts. What you have managed to learn during your time here will be tested academically by the NEWTs at the end of the year, but, more importantly, it could save your life if you ever need to defend yourself during this war. As you are all aware, I prefer to teach the outstanding performers…those who show a clear aptitude for the subject and the desire to apply themselves to learning. Due to the fact that we are at war, it is believed that we need to teach the less-than-stellar performers in Defense since they need it the most," Snape said, sneering and staring particularly hard at Harry at the end of his speech.

Harry felt heat on his neck as his anger rose. He was insulted by Snape’s words, and he knew it was exactly what Snape had intended. Not only had Harry received an "O" on his Defense OWL, but he’d also scored in the top 10 overall in all of Hogwarts history. He was very proud of that score, because it was something he had done on his own. It had nothing to do with his being the Boy-Who-Lived; he’d achieved that score even before he began all his extra training.

His vision blurred slightly, and he could see tiny pricks of bright light as his fury mounted. It was a sharp pinch on his thigh from Hermione that brought his focus back to the classroom. He let out a hiss of breath before looking at her in surprise and rubbing the sore spot.

"Don’t let him goad you; that’s what he’s trying to do. Can’t you see that?" she hissed in exasperation.

She was right. Snape was trying to goad him into losing his temper so Snape could take points away and prove his point. Harry wasn’t going to let him do it. He remembered telling Neville one time last year how Malfoy used his words as a weapon and not to be distracted by it. Snape did the same thing. Harry practiced some of the meditative breathing techniques Jonathan had showed him to calm his emotions. He had to stay in control. Snape wasn’t going to push him around, not in this class – they were on Harry’s home field now.

Snape seemed almost disappointed by the lack of reaction from Harry. He sneered as he continued with his lecture. "We will begin the year with a series of mock duels amongst your classmates. After some practice, we will be joining with the other seventh-year classes. The best way to test your reflexes and ability to think on your feet is in an actual situation where you are forced not only to use your skills, but to think about what you need to do as well. Madam Pomfrey has been forewarned to be expecting some of you," he said, glaring hard at Neville.

Harry noticed that Hermione looked nervous, but determined, while Ron appeared eager to begin. Harry was looking forward to this, surprisingly. Not only would it be good practice, but it would also be fun. He just never expected to find himself in the position that he’d be looking forward to Snape’s class.

Chapter Sixteen: Riddle...Tom Riddle

Harry found that the next day of classes was easier than the first two had been. In fact, his classes really hadn’t been any trouble at all; it was his best friends who were driving him to distraction. The trio still went to all their classes together, but Ron and Hermione barely spoke except to snap at one another. Harry was already past the limit his patience could endure. They were even sniping at each other through him.

Harry had taken to avoiding them when possible – sneaking off with Ginny or spending time with each alone. Trying to do anything with just the three of them left him with a terrible headache. Gossip and rumors were wild about the break up of the trio. Ginny had told him she’d even heard one that he had been the reason for their split, when Ron had caught him with Hermione. Harry couldn’t imagine anything more ridiculous. The loss of his one, constant familial structure left him feeling melancholy and extremely out of sorts.

They’d had Charms with the Hufflepuffs that morning, and Ron had sat with Hannah Abbott rather than with Harry and Hermione. Harry had watched Hermione’s spine stiffen as she bore down with her quill while taking notes. In all their years together, Harry couldn’t remember ever before seeing Hermione’s notes have so many ink stains.

He didn’t even know how Ron knew Hannah so well, and he suspected Ron was paying Hermione back for her attention to Terry Boot in Potions. If Hermione’s furious note-taking was any indication, Ron had succeeded in rattling her. Of course, Ron had spent the previous evening pounding the living daylights out of his own pillow before finally going to sleep. So, Harry supposed Hermione was getting to Ron, as well.

Their first Wizarding Living class was proving to be quite enlightening. Professor Vance, who usually taught Ancient Runes, taught the lesson, which focused mostly on wizarding law. Harry learned that the only time the Minister of Magic was replaced was when either the current minister stepped down or was incapacitated, or if the public demanded a new election. So, unless the Wizengamot finally got enough cries for a vote of no confidence, Fudge could be around for years. Harry groaned at the thought. Even if he did manage to rid the world of Voldemort somehow, he didn’t believe Fudge was the man to rebuild whatever was left of the current Ministry afterwards. Of course, Harry wasn’t certain he’d even be around to see what would happen, anyway.

When the bell signaling the end of class rang, he bolted from the room, leaving Ron and Hermione to fend for themselves. He’d had enough of their bickering and was tired of playing referee. He knew Ginny had her first Potions class with Cordelia that afternoon, and he wanted to find out how it went. As he took a roundabout way back to Gryffindor tower in order to avoid Ron and Hermione, he passed the hospital wing and could see Madam Pomfrey puttering around inside. Feeling cheerful about the fact that he’d been back at the castle for nearly a week without having to visit, Harry poked his head inside the door.

"Hello, Madam Pomfrey," he said with a grin. The matron turned quickly towards the sound of his voice, nearly knocking over the tray of potions she was storing in the cabinet. He noticed the side of her lip twitch slightly when she realized who it was at the entrance.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I was wondering how long it would take for you to make it in here this year. I know I’ve already supplied Minerva with a Sleeping Draught for you. What is it this time? Fighting in the hallway? Spell gone wrong in class? A miss-brewed potion, perhaps? Or have Quidditch practices started already? I haven’t seen anyone else in here yet; figures you’d be first. What have you done to yourself?"

"Nothing, I’m healthy. I just wanted to make certain you hadn’t given my bed away," Harry replied cheekily.

She gestured towards the empty bed in the corner of the room, and he noticed the wooden plaque hanging above it that read ‘Potter’s spot’. "Oh, no, Mr. Potter. I never allow another student to lie there. I can never be certain when you’ll need it. I think you spent more time here last year than in Gryffindor tower."

Harry grinned – he couldn’t argue with her. "Not this year," he said over his shoulder as he pulled back from the door to continue on his way.

"I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Potter. See to it that you take care of yourself," she called after him, and he could hear the warmth in her usually stern voice.

The grin remained on Harry’s face right up through the time he entered the portrait hole. When he arrived in the common room, he found Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville all sitting together at a table in the corner. Ron and Hermione sat at opposite ends, avoiding all eye contact, while Ginny and Neville valiantly tried to carry the conversation. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance; this had to stop.

"Hey," he said, dropping his bag at the table and kissing Ginny on the top of her head. "How was Potions today?"

"Great," Ginny said, smiling up at him. I think Cordelia may have replaced you in Colin’s heart, however. He’s completely smitten."

"Good," Harry muttered, causing Ginny to giggle. Harry sat down at the table, his glance shifting between Hermione, who was reading her Charms notes, and Ron, who was glaring at Hermione.

"How did your first Wizarding Living class go?" Ginny asked, and Harry knew she was trying to divert his attention from his bickering friends.

"Good. We talked a lot about the Ministry laws. What did you think, Neville?" Harry asked the round face boy, who was glancing nervously between Ron and Hermione.

"Umm, it was okay…kind of depressing, though," Neville said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It seems like we’re doomed to be led by a bunch of idiots."

"Damn," Ginny said, sighing. "I was hoping you’d have learned something useful, like how to cast a good alteration charm." She lifted the frayed ends of her school robes, robes that looked like they’d belonged to Ron in second year. "These need to be taken up again; the seam keeps falling apart."

Harry frowned in confusion. "How come you didn’t get new robes? What happened to the inheritance from Sirius?" he asked, feeling proud that he could now mention Sirius’ name without flinching.

Ginny gave a short, bark-like laugh. "You know Mum, Harry. Years of frugality don't change overnight. She doesn’t splurge well," Ginny said, twisting her lips into a scowl.

Harry snorted, picturing Mrs. Weasley on a shopping spree like Aunt Petunia used to like to do. Thinking of Aunt Petunia caused a gray shadow to pass over Harry’s eyes,

"What do you have to do this afternoon?" Ginny asked, noticing his distress.

"I have training with Abe," he said quietly. "I’m going to meet this Ministry observer bloke and see what that’s all about."

"Will you be down for dinner?"

"Yeah, I should be," he said."

"Okay, I’ll save you a seat.

When Harry arrived at the Room of Requirement, the door was already open, and he could hear Abe arguing with someone inside. Harry entered the room with a purposeful stride, determined that this observer bloke needed to be shown right away that he wouldn’t be pushed around by anyone.

"Hello," Harry said upon entering the room. He was startled when the man arguing with Abe turned around, and Harry was faced with none other than Percy Weasley. Percy was impeccably groomed and carried an air of utmost importance. His red hair was trimmed close, and Harry noticed that he wore a thin gold chain attached to his spectacles.

Abe appeared irritated, and he was clutching at the pocket that held his smokes. Percy looked as pompous as ever, although his eyes glanced nervously at Harry.

"Percy," Harry said, nodding. "So, you’re here to see that I’m trained to kill Voldemort for you?"

Percy flinched at the use of the Dark Lord’s name. "I’m here to ensure that proper Ministry protocol is adhered to while you train. The Minister wants this taken care of quickly, before any more lives are lost."

"Before his political career suffers any more from his ineffectiveness, you mean," Harry said.

Percy adjusted the glasses on his nose. "I am here to take notes for the Minister and report my findings. I will not, however, tolerate any disrespect towards the Minister in my presence."

"Then you might find yourself having to leave the room frequently," Harry said with a smirk. "Disparaging the Minister is a common warm-up exercise."

Abe chuckled. "Always has been one of my favorite past-times."

Percy scowled at Abe. "The Minister is well aware of your somewhat…unorthodox methods, Aberforth. I’m certain he’s going to have a lot to say to Professor Dumbledore about the fact that he failed to mention your participation in this training."

Abe guffawed loudly. "I’m certain Al can take the heat, Perce. All right, now, no time to dawdle all day. Get your wands out, both of you."

Harry drew his wand, but Percy stood still, gaping at him. "Excuse me?"

"You’re not going to disrupt my training facility without making yourself useful. Potter needs a training partner, and you fit the bill. You’ll have first hand knowledge about what the lad can do when you make your report. Get your wand out, laddie, and get ready – you’re about to duel with the Dark Lord’s biggest adversary."

Harry grinned evilly at Percy, enjoying the older boy’s discomfort. "Ready, Percy?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Percy gulped and shakily drew his wand.

They worked on spell casting for nearly an hour, with Percy looking much the worse for wear. Harry realized that Percy hadn’t made Head Boy for nothing; he was bright and had a vast knowledge of various spells and how to use them. Like Hermione, however, he tended to think too long on a spell before casting it, and he was no match for Harry’s speed. Harry was so fast and moved with such ease and agility that there were times Percy cast a spell uselessly; Harry had moved from the spot he’d been standing in before Percy even registered he was gone. Abe wanted to build up Harry’s endurance – and he was also enjoying watching Percy’s discomfort – so he let the duel continue until they were interrupted by the arrival of Fawkes with a note for Abe. Abe read it quickly and looked up at Harry.

"That’s it for today, lad. Al wants a word; he’s up in his office. Fawkes will take you."

Percy readjusted his torn and rumpled clothing, dabbing a handkerchief to a cut on his cheek. He had a smudge of dirt on the tip of his nose that caused Harry to smirk, not particularly wanting to alert Percy that it was there.

"Very well," Percy said, still sounding pompous for someone who obviously had no control of the situation. "I’ll apprise the Minister of your progress and return for your next session on Friday. I’m certain Minister Fudge will have some recommendations."

"And I’m certain he knows what to do with them," Harry replied before grasping Fawkes tail feathers and disappearing from the room.

A moment later, he found himself in the office of his headmaster, but the office appeared empty. Fawkes flew over to his perch, and Harry followed, glancing around the room. He stood in front of Fawkes, stroking his brilliant crimson plumage as he awaited Dumbledore’s arrival.

Professor Dumbledore shuffled into the room a moment later, appearing old and haggard. Harry noticed the slight tremor in Dumbledore’s hands as he made his way towards his desk. He sat down slowly and with apparent difficulty. Harry was struck by how wan and sickly the skin on his hands and face appeared, and it caused his heart to constrict. He didn’t remember Dumbledore looking so frail when he’d seen him after the feast. Of course, his mind had been focused on other things at the time.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding raspy.

Harry’s voice got stuck in his throat, and he merely nodded.

"How did your training with Aberforth and young Mr. Weasley go today? I imagine it was quite a shock for you to discover the identity of the Ministry observer."

Harry cleared his throat. "Yeah…I was surprised. Are you all right, sir?" Harry asked in a very small voice.

Dumbledore smiled, but no twinkle appeared in his dull blue eyes. "I am feeling under the weather today, Harry. The change of seasons always tends to bring on a cold. I need to visit Madam Pomfrey for a dose of Pepper-Up Potion."

Harry instinctively knew it was more than that, but he didn’t want to think about it, so he latched onto the excuse. "I saw her earlier today; she’s in the hospital wing, sir."

"Thank you, Harry. I shall be certain to make a visit. I am certain you are curious why I asked you here today," Professor Dumbledore said as Professor McGonagall entered the office. She didn’t appear surprised to find Harry there, nor did Professor Dumbledore seem startled by her appearance. Harry suddenly had the sinking suspicion that he was being ambushed.

"What’s going on?" he asked, steeling his back against the chair across from Professor Dumbledore’s desk, the same chair he’d sat upon when he had learned his fate well over a year ago.

"Relax, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, her face looking pinched. "It’s about the DA."

"Oh," Harry said, relaxing. "We’re having our first meeting tomorrow night. Hermione already set the coins; didn’t she tell you?"

"Yes, she did," Professor McGonagall said briskly. "That’s why we wanted to speak with you."

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, "you made a comment at the Ministry that you felt that you were treated like a pawn by all of us. I am truly sorry you feel that way; therefore, I wanted your opinion on what I am about to propose."

"Which is?"

"I would like you to consider asking Professor Snape to sponsor the DA meeting rather than Professor McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore said, watching Harry closely.

Harry felt his dismay over Dumbledore’s physical condition rapidly evaporating. Dumbledore was still a cagey old fox. The DA was Harry’s sole achievement, completely outside the headmaster’s machinations. The people in the DA were loyal to him – to Harry – and he trusted them implicitly. He didn’t want Snape involved. Dumbledore knew how Harry felt about Snape and by asking him to accept Snape, he was using Harry as a pawn, yet again.

Harry swallowed. "No, sir," he said simply.

A brief flicker of surprise showed in Dumbledore’s eyes, but he continued calmly. "Harry, you know Professor Snape is on our side; he proved his loyalty by aiding you in your escape from Malfoy Manor. He is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and it would make sense for him to assume this role."

"Except that I still don’t trust him. He may be loyal to you, but I don’t believe he’s loyal to me, and I need to be able to trust the back up from the DA. It needs to be separate from class." Harry watched Dumbledore open his mouth to interrupt, but Harry held up his hand, imploring the headmaster to let him finish. "I don’t believe Snape is a good teacher. I’ve never seen him actually teaching anything. Even if he is good at Defense, he’s not good at sharing that expertise. The situation is too dangerous now to waste our time bickering, which is the only thing that happens when Snape and I are in a room together."

"Harry, I know there is difficulty between you, but we have to work together. Having Professor Snape as the Defense teacher helps our cause. If Voldemort knows he is involved in your defense club, it is another deception that works in our favor. Certainly, you can see the logic in this," Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry felt cornered, but was determined not to back down on this one. He felt very strongly about it, and it was time he took some control of his own destiny. "I’m sorry, sir, but I have to insist – no Snape."

"And if Professor McGonagall suddenly found herself unavailable or unable to continue as advisor?" Professor Dumbledore posed his remark as a question, but Harry knew he was somehow being tested.

"Then I’d ask Professor Flitwick; I know he has some dueling experience. And if he suddenly became unavailable, I’d disband the DA. We’d take it underground and go back to meeting in secret like in fifth year. Or maybe we could hold smaller study groups rather than one large group," Harry replied, firmly setting his chin.

He looked up into Professor Dumbledore’s eyes and found them filled with both disappointment and…respect. Harry knew the headmaster didn’t agree with his decision, but he was pleased that Harry was taking the lead. Harry was proud of himself for holding his temper.

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall, whose expression Harry could not read at all. "I’ll let Severus know your decision."

Harry cringed inwardly; he knew that he was going to pay for this decision in class. Still, if Snape knew what was going on beforehand, then Harry was right in thinking he was being used as a pawn…again. His anger towards Dumbledore stirred anew.

"There is one other reason I wanted to see you, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, removing a very worn-looking cardboard box from beneath his desk. He removed a piece of parchment from the top of the box and handed it to Harry. "I thought you might like to keep this."

Harry looked down to see a certificate with a Ministry seal affixed to the center. It was an award in Sirius’s name for his efforts at the Ministry. Harry read a lot of sugary words praising Sirius’s honor and his valor. It basically glossed over the fact that Sirius spent twelve years of his life wrongly imprisoned, because the same Ministry that was awarding him this honor never took the time to investigate what happened to Sirius in the first place. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Harry felt his stomach clench.

It wasn’t fair. Sirius had spent the vast majority of his life in one prison or another, and now he was being used again even after his death. He deserved better.

Harry’s eyes hardened as he looked at the aged headmaster. "Is that all, sir?" he asked without commenting on the certificate.

Dumbledore sighed. "No. I’m sorry to unload all of this on you at once, Harry, but this also arrived today."

Harry glanced at the cardboard box more closely. He could now see the name ‘POTTER’ written on the top in very familiar handwriting. His heart pounded in his chest, and he gripped the arms of the chair in which he was sitting.

"Is that…" he began, but his voice trailed off; he didn’t know what it was, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to know.

"The belongings in the Dursleys’ house have been sorted through, and this was found in the attic. We had an Order member there, representing your interests. This is the only thing that was brought back, but I believe it may contain some of your mother’s belongings."

Harry gulped and reached out with trembling hands to hold the box. He had the Invisibility Cloak that belonged to his father, but this was the first real, tangible evidence of a connection to his mother. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "I shall be here all evening, Harry, if you feel the need to talk."

Harry nodded and gently picked up the box, carrying it back to Gryffindor tower with the greatest of reverence.

It was dinnertime when he climbed through the portrait hole and up the stairs to the seventh-year boys’ dormitory, and he could hear the loud hum of conversation from the Great Hall. Harry wasn’t hungry; he wanted to be alone to sort through this box. Gently, he placed it on his bed and pulled the hangings around him. A hard lump formed in his throat as he pulled his legs up and crossed them. He sat there for a long time, debating with himself over what could be inside.

He was excited, nervous, and wary all at the same time. He was thrilled to get a peek at anything that once belonged to his mother, hopeful that it might give him some insight to the real Lily Evans Potter. He was also fearful that it was some last, spiteful trick of Aunt Petunia’s from beyond the grave. It would be like her to give him this extraordinary gift only to find it contained nothing but torn photographs and rags. The anticipation involved might be better than what was actually inside. Sitting there, staring at the dilapidated old box, he was filled with hope and wonder and expectations, and he didn’t want to give that up too quickly. It was a feeling similar to when he’d received those presents his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Then, it was Ron’s eager urging that had caused him to tear into the wrappings.

His hand shook as he finally opened the lid and pulled out the first item.

It was a tattered blue blanket with some ugly scorch marks in one corner. The material had a soft, fuzzy feel to it, with a softer satin trim. The ends were frayed, and it smelled rather musty. Harry realized it must have been the blanket he was wrapped in when he arrived on the Dursleys’ doorstep all those years ago…all those lives ago. Even the Dursleys were gone now. Harry lifted the blanket from the box and spread it out before him.

A memory from Remus’s Pensieve took hold in his mind. He’d been wrapped in this same blanket when his mother sang to him. He also realized he’d seen this blanket in that vision from Snape’s memory – it had been lying on the floor with him after his mother had been killed. Harry wondered if his mother had bought it for him. It must have been special to him as a baby, although he had no memory of it now. Aunt Petunia must have taken it away. It was dirty and probably smelled of smoke at the time; she wouldn’t have liked that.

Harry inhaled deeply into the material of the blanket, hoping to get some vague whiff of perfume or anything that would invoke a memory. It smelled musty and old – like something you’d find in the home of an elderly relative – and a faint trace of smoke still lingered. Bitter disappointment welled in Harry’s heart.

Both his parents would have touched this blanket. Sirius, too, if he’d said goodbye to Harry before chasing after Pettigrew. Hagrid would have used it to wrap Harry in before delivering him to the Dursleys. It had been with him that night that his world had changed forever. And it had sat inside a box in the attic on 4 Privet Drive all this time.

Finding his vision suddenly blurred, Harry clutched the blanket to him, wrapping himself in it like a cocoon of what could have been.

Ginny entered the quiet common room before the rest of the students had finished with dinner. Harry had never joined her in the Great Hall after his lesson with Aberforth, and she was annoyed with him. She knew he was busy, but he’d said he’d join her for dinner, and sometimes at school, mealtimes were the only chance they had to spend some time together. Missing out made her grumpy.

She quickly scanned the empty common room and hurried up the boys’ stairs. If he’d stood her up because he was napping on his bed, he was about to learn how a freezing cold water spray felt. Her mother had often used that spell to wake the boys during the summer holiday.

The curtains were drawn around his bed, and she frowned at the sight. Marching over, she pulled the curtain back but was startled by what she found. Harry was sitting cross-legged on his bed wrapped in a dirty, old baby blanket. His hand stroked the material absently, but otherwise, he hadn’t moved. His eyes were slightly glazed and unfocused, staring blankly at an old box in front of him. The box was in worse shape than the blanket.

Something about the rigid way he held himself diffused her anger. What’s in that box? "Harry," she said tentatively.

He looked up at her, startled, as if just realizing she was there. His hand continued to stroke the blanket. "Hey, Ginny," he whispered hoarsely.

Ginny sat on the edge of his bed, staring at him warily. "What have you got there, Harry?" she asked.

"Dumbledore gave it to me. It was in the attic at the Dursleys’ – it belonged to my mum," Harry said. His voice was dull and distant, and he never stopped stroking the blanket.

Ginny swallowed nervously, knowing this was always shaky ground with Harry. "What’s inside?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. I just opened it."

Ginny reached out her hand and pulled gently on the blanket. She could see scorch marks on one end; it looked like it had been burned. Why would Harry’s mother –or his aunt, for that matter – keep a burned blanket? She was missing something. "Was this inside? Was something wrapped in it?"

Harry laughed a harsh, bitter bark of a laugh that sent a chill down her spine. "Yeah…me."

"Pardon?"

"It was mine. I was wrapped in it when the Dursleys found me on their doorstep with the other morning deliveries," he said dully.

Ginny pulled her hand back quickly and shuddered. Oh, Harry. She peered in the box and pulled out a bunch of old letters tied with a yellow ribbon. She untied the string and glanced briefly at a few of them. "Harry, these were written when your mum was still at Hogwarts," she cried. She watched something flicker within his eyes. He reached out slowly for the letters, hesitating several times before his arm straightened, and she realized he was nervous about reading them.

"D’you want me to read one to you?" she asked gently.

He dropped his arm and nodded eagerly, like a little kid who feared something was too good to be true. Ginny took a moment to acknowledge that Lily Potter had beautiful handwriting. Ginny wished hers could look as elegant and clear as the writing in front of her.

Dear Petunia,

How are you? Did you have a nice time on your date with that fellow from Wysteria Walk? Did you get to see the movie you wanted?

I know you’re still angry with me for what happened at Christmas, but honestly Petunia, I didn’t realize that Frog’s Spawn was in there, and you really shouldn’t have been going through my trunk, anyway. You know that some of these things can be dangerous.

We had a Hogsmeade visit this past weekend. Hogsmeade is the village outside the school, if you recall. I had a lovely time with my dorm mates. We tried something called butterbeer, and it was wonderful – warms you right up from the inside. Remember that bloke I told you about – Sirius Black – the one who was always playing rude jokes on people? Well, he tried to play a joke on my roommate, Jane, and she hexed him right there in the pub. I know you don’t want to hear anything about the hex, but it really was funny. You should have seen him standing there, hunched over as if he’d just been kicked in a spot boys don’t like to be kicked. Served him right.

I’m going to ask Jane to teach me that hex. I wouldn’t mind using it on that James Potter. He is still being so insufferable. He’s conceited, even if he is heartstoppingly cute. Not that I think he’s cute, mind, but some of the other girls think he is. I don’t think he’s cute at all. Not really. Oh, anyway, Petunia, that’s all for now. I hope you’ll write back. It’s been an awfully long time since I received a letter from you, and I miss hearing from you.

Love,

Lily

Ginny burst into giggles at the hex placed on Sirius, while Harry winced in sympathy and instinctively moved his arm in front of his own sensitive spot.

"I wonder if she ever wrote her back," Harry said.

"I dunno. There are several more letters here. Even if your aunt was angry, she saved the letters," Ginny replied. "Your mum was obviously already rather taken with your dad."

"You think so?" Harry asked, looking confused. "She wanted to hex him."

"Oh, Harry. She went on about him for half the letter. If she spent that long trying to say he wasn’t cute, obviously she thought he was," Ginny said in exasperation.

Harry shook his head forcibly. "I don’t understand girls. What else is in there?"

Ginny pulled out a handful of hair ribbons, several quills in pink and purple, some dog-eared books, a few photographs of two smiling little girls with their heads full of curls, and a sketch of a young woman with long red hair. It was drawn on thick paper, but the signature in the corner was unreadable. "Is this your mother?" Ginny asked in awe. "Harry, she’s beautiful."

"Yeah," Harry replied, staring at the drawing reverently. "I wonder who drew this?"

"She looks like she was a teenager, and it’s a Muggle drawing…see, it’s not moving. Was anyone in your family an artist? Did Petunia draw?" Ginny asked.

Harry looked at her blankly. "If she did, I never saw her. I- I don’t….er…I don’t know much about her family. Aunt Petunia…she…er…she didn’t like if I asked questions."

Ginny tugged on her lower lip with her teeth for a minute. "What about Remus? Maybe he would know who drew it, your mum looks older in the picture, so she might have been seeing your dad by then."

Harry, whose shoulders had slumped miserably, perked up with this thought. "Let’s try him now."

"Okay, Hedwig will probably enjoy the flight," Ginny said, jumping off the bed.

"No, we don’t need to send Hedwig – we can use this," he said, excitedly holding up a mirror from his trunk.

"What’s that?"

"It’s a two-way mirror so I can talk to Remus. My father and Sirius made them when they were in school. Sirius gave this to me that Christmas we all spent at Grimmauld Place, but I never used it," he said, wincing. "Remus has the other piece now."

"Cool," Ginny said, smirking. "You should show this to the twins, I bet they’d come up with some really interesting uses for something like this."

"That’s what I was afraid of," Harry said, chuckling. He sat on the bed and pulled her close so both of their faces would show in the mirror. "Remus," Harry said. "Remus, it’s me…Harry."

"Honestly, Harry, who else would be talking to him from a mirror that he probably keeps in his pocket," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Harry grinned sheepishly, and Remus chuckled from the mirror. "Hello, Harry and Ginny, nice to hear from you. Is there anything wrong?"

"Hi, Remus," Harry said. "No, there’s nothing wrong; we’re fine. Only…Professor Dumbledore gave me some stuff that was found at the Dursleys’. It belonged to my mum…stuff Aunt Petunia had that she must have left behind. Anyway, this sketch was inside." Harry held the mirror to the sketch, while Ginny held the rolled drawing open so Remus could see. "D’you know who drew this, or anything about it?" Ginny could hear the hope in his voice, and she prayed Remus would have something to give him.

Remus scratched his head in the mirror, looking perplexed. He was quiet for a few minutes, and Ginny suspected that he could hear the pleading in Harry’s voice, as well. He didn’t want to disappoint him.

"I’m sorry, Harry. It’s a wonderful likeness, it captures the liveliness your mother always possessed, but I’ve never seen that drawing before. I don’t recall her mentioning it, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t."

Harry’s shoulders slumped. "Oh. Okay."

"What else was in the box, Harry?" Remus asked gently.

"Uhm…some letters, pictures and stuff. I think these were from her hair," he said, raising a few stray hair ribbons.

Remus smiled fondly. "Lily always wore her hair pulled back in a ribbon. Your father constantly stole them, but her supply never ran out. It was like a game between them."

Harry smiled wistfully. Ginny rested her hand on his back and took the mirror. "Thanks, Remus. Say hi to Mum and Dad for me," she said.

"I will. Take care of yourselves; keep your eyes open."

"We will; you, too."

Ginny placed the mirror back in Harry’s trunk and turned back towards his downcast expression. She climbed up onto his lap, straddling his hips. "Well, we’ll have to find a frame so you can hang that picture up. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know who drew it or where it came from, Harry. It’s yours now, and you didn’t have it before. It’s a nice drawing of your mum. No brooding allowed; you already stood me up for dinner so if anyone is allowed to brood, it’s me."

She watched as he fought the grin trying to break out on his face. Finally, he gave in, laughing out loud and pulling her closer. "Let’s make a ‘no brooding’ pact then, yeah? I’ve suddenly thought of other things I’d much rather do." He fell back, pulling her with him and crinkling Sirius’s award and all the letters that still lay scattered on his bed.

Harry held the first meeting of the DA the following evening. He paced in the Room of Requirement while he waited for everyone to arrive. He’d filled Ron, Hermione and Ginny in about what had happened during his training, and that Percy was the Ministry observer. Ron cursed and threw his books on the floor, but Ginny giggled when he told them that Abe made Percy help with the practice. Ron’s face took on an evil smile before he rushed to the owlry to send a letter to Fred and George.

Ron and Harry had fenced again, and Ron and Ginny had begun their Apparation practice with Professor McGonagall. They’d been so busy, in fact, that Harry didn’t know how they’d fit in Quidditch practice when the season began.

He watched as the room filled up with familiar faces; there were some new, younger students, as well. Hermione had posted sign-up sheets for the meeting, stating that all were welcome to attend. Some of the Slytherins from last year were in attendance, but there was no sign of Crabbe, Goyle, or Pansy Parkinson. Blaise Zabini sat quietly near the back with a Slytherin girl Harry didn’t know. Blaise didn’t bother Harry as much as some of the other Slytherins did, but he still didn’t trust him. He noticed when Professor McGonagall took her traditional spot at the door. He gave her a brief nod to acknowledge her presence. She almost smiled in return.

Harry’s stomach fluttered as he watched everyone enter the room. This was his third year instructing the DA; he didn’t know why he was still nervous, but he was. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he strode to the front of the room.

"Hello, everyone," he said, but needed to clear his throat when his voice cracked in nervousness. "Welcome to another year of the DA. I see a lot of old faces and some new ones, as well. This club will meet in addition to our regular Defense class. You all know the stakes. We’re fully at war now, and you need to know how to defend yourselves if you get into a sticky situation."

"Something you’d know a lot about," said Justin Finch Fletchley with a smirk.

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, I seem to have a knack. You all need to be able to fight the Death Eaters and to stall them long enough to give you time to get away."

"So, why couldn’t you do that last year at the end of term," Zacharius Smith asked, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning forward aggressively.

"Hey," Ron said. "We’re here to learn defense."

"And he’s teaching us and telling us we need to be able to get away, so why didn’t he get away? We may not know exactly what happened, but we all know you got hurt pretty bad."

Harry took a deep breath and forced the memories back. He couldn’t start having flashbacks now. His thoughts turned to Jonathan and everything he’d taught Harry about defense. Now it was Abe who was preparing him for this fight. They were doing their part, and it was time for Harry to step up and do his. He’d told Professor Dumbledore that he needed to trust the people in the DA because he knew they would follow where he led. It was time to make a stand.

"My situation is different from yours, but that doesn’t mean you can be complacent. The Death Eaters are following orders, and they will take out anyone who stands in their way. I have a link…a connection to Voldemort," he paused, waiting for the gasps and shrieks to die down. "The link is through this scar that you’re all so fascinated by," he said, brushing the fringe away from his forehead. "Voldemort will come at me, and he’s going to keep coming at me. I may not have got away right away, but I did get away. I survived. That is what everyone here needs to do, to survive. It shows him that we won’t be beaten, and that he’s not unbeatable. Voldemort-"

Harry stopped speaking when the shrieks began again. He watched Lavender Brown actually press her hands to her ears. Luna Lovegood, who was sitting next to her, pulled her hand away and dreamily repeated what Harry had said, using the name and causing Lavender to shriek again.

"Okay, this has to stop. How can you fight if you won’t even say the name? Do you know that Voldemort isn’t even his real name? He made it up to make himself sound important. He’s not a Lord of anything, except in his own delusions. His name is Riddle…Tom Riddle. He was once a student here at Hogwarts, the same as you and I. He wants you to be afraid to say Voldemort – it feeds his ego. Using his name is your first step in fighting him. Your first lesson here today is to say his name. Go ahead. VOLDEMORT," Harry yelled as loud as he could.

The gasps and shrieks continued, and several people glanced warily at the door. Harry could see the look of approval on Hermione’s face, and he focused his gaze on her.

"See, no lightening bolt appears in the sky when I say it. Hermione, who are we fighting here?" Harry asked, confident she’d play along.

"Voldemort," Hermione replied without hesitation.

"Five points to Gryffindor," Harry said. As Head Boy, he was allowed to take and give House points, but this was the first time he’d done so. "Luna, who are we fighting?"

Luna’s dreamy eyes looked at Harry, and she blinked rapidly. "Why, Harry, we’re fighting Lord Voldemort. You should know that."

"Five points to Ravenclaw. Okay, we’re going to start practicing some spells, but from now on, I don’t want to hear any more of this You-Know-Who-" Harry stopped himself from saying what he was going to say when he noticed the stern glare Professor McGonagall was shooting at him. "Er…nonsense. Say the name. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. Professor Dumbledore told me that back in my first year, and he’s right."

"Easy for you to say," Zacharius Smith said belligerently. "You’re already a target. Are you going to tell us what actually happened at the end of term, or do we need to wait and read that in the paper, too."

"Back off, Smith," Ron said hotly.

Harry chewed on his lip for a moment. He didn’t like Smith, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about Malfoy Manor, but he wanted them to take this seriously. However, most of it was information that Dumbledore didn’t want made public, and he’d been fairly tight-lipped about the whole thing.

"No, I’m not going to give any details," he said, holding up his hands to stop Smith’s protests. "It’s for your own protection, as well as my own. "This link," he said, pointing to the scar on his head, "is not something you’ll ever need to worry about, so let’s concentrate on what you can control."

The rest of the session went without incident. Harry went over a series of the spells they’d worked on the previous year, with heavy emphasis on Shield Charms. He was proud to see Ginny conjuring her shield even faster than the students in the year ahead of her. That’s my girl.

She’d managed to grasp the concept of Apparating and was well on her way to being able to accomplish it. Harry would feel much better about her safety when he knew she could Apparate out of a bad situation if needed.

Chapter Seventeen: Vendetta

Throughout the following week, Harry continued his hectic schedule. He met with Aberforth three times each week, under Percy’s watchful eye. Whenever Percy tried to interfere or interject anything, Abe used him as Harry’s training dummy. In addition to the official schedule, Harry also met with Abe each weekend to train more specifically on the Curse of the Damned. Emmeline Vance had attended their last session, trying to prepare Harry for the energy that would be required to channel his magic into the curse. He had to be certain not to exhaust himself casting the curse, so that he’d be able to hold the connection while continuing the battle within their minds. Harry’s love of his friends and family weakened Voldemort; he needed to concentrate on that while calling forth his loved ones wronged by Voldemort.

Since they weren’t actually able to practice the curse, they practiced the incantation and wand movements, in addition to developing ways to increase Harry’s stamina. Abe suspected that the battle of wills that would ensue once the spell was cast would be fierce. Each participant would literally be fighting for his life. He used the sword fighting a great deal, feeling it aided Harry’s strength training for a long battle, as well as preparing him to fight and think simultaneously.

As Harry suspected, the first class with Snape after he had been denied Harry’s approval for overseeing the DA was brutal. Snape’s sneer seemed permanently affixed to his face with Spell-o-tape. He made repeated references to Harry’s arrogance and his glory-seeking ways. Harry had gritted his teeth but refused to be drawn into an argument. Snape could say what he wanted, but Harry wasn’t going to back down. Besides, his lack of response only seemed to irritate the crotchety Professor further. He’d made several attempts to ridicule Harry and make him look foolish. This wasn’t Potions, however, and Harry could easily hold his own. More often than not, it was Snape who ended up looking foolish, which, of course, only enraged the man further.

The DA met again during the week, with Professor McGonagall still acting as a faculty sponsor. There were such a large number of students now involved that he had to use Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna as assistants in order to break the students into smaller, more manageable groups. Some of the students, those that had been with the DA for a while, were fairly advanced, while some of the newer students were exceedingly behind where they should be. Harry blamed their ineptitude on the residual effect of Umbridge.

He hadn’t had an opportunity to spend much time with Ginny – both of their schedules were full – and Harry hoped once Quidditch season began, they’d at least get more than meals together. Ginny had a lot of extra work since she was trying to prove herself to her professors in spite of her OWL results. It left her very cranky, and Harry was never certain if he was supposed to sympathize or to fix something. He tended to lean towards solving a problem for her, but she usually got annoyed and snapped at him just to listen. Sometimes, he thought he’d never figure her out.

Ron and Hermione continued to drive everyone insane with their bickering. Harry thought both of them were behaving poorly and wished they’d just talk about the problem instead of dancing around one another. It was obvious why Ron was having difficulty, but Harry had begun to think that something was bothering Hermione, as well – something other than just her different career choice. She seemed less self-assured somehow, and he noticed she cried easier than she ever had.

She’d filled Harry in on the Institute and their offer to her. She equated them with a Muggle think tank. They did extensive research on spells and possible counter-curses. Harry thought it was the kind of environment in which Hermione would thrive. It would have him climbing the walls in no time, but Hermione always did enjoy research.

Harry tried desperately to balance his time between his two best friends, but he felt almost like they were competing for his attention in some odd sort of way. They rarely spent time with just the three of them anymore. When they split off, Harry was never certain with which one to pair. Ron used Quidditch to try and entice his interest, while Hermione kept having issues with the DA that needed to be discussed. He felt like he was being pulled apart, and it left him with a raging headache. He tried to ensure that if he did something with one, he also spent time with the other. All he needed was for them to turn their anger on him.

One afternoon, Harry sat with Ginny at a table in the common room, each immersed in their own revising, when Ron entered the room in a rage.

"I don’t believe her," he said, slamming his books on the table and causing Ginny’s parchment to scatter everywhere.

"Honestly, Ron! Those are my Transfiguration notes, and I’ve spent a long time working on them," she huffed as she picked them up and tried to put them back in the right order.

Harry had a fairly good idea who the ‘her’ in question was, but reckoned he hadn’t been shouted at by either of them yet today, so he might as well see what was happening with them this time. "What are you on about, Ron?" he asked.

"Hermione is making revision plans right in the middle of the corridor. She’s Head Girl; she should be keeping her eyes open for the younger students – constant vigilance and all," Ron said, plopping himself down in a chair next to Harry.

"What does making revision plans have to do with anything?" Ginny asked. She never looked up from her notes, and Harry could tell she was hiding a grin. "Hermione is always making revision plans."

Before Ron could answer, Hermione entered the common room with a murderous look on her face. Neville and Luna followed her inside. Neville eyed Hermione warily, but Luna merely gazed around the Gryffindor common room as if she’d never before seen it. She’d been here for several of the celebrations after Quidditch victories the previous year.

"Exactly what was that all about, Ronald Weasley?" she hissed, dropping her own books on the table and causing Ginny’s notes to scatter again. "Sorry, Ginny."

Ginny huffed in exasperation. "Will you two please work this out before I ruin all my sixth year work, as well?"

"There is nothing to work out, aside from your brother bullying past people in the corridor and knocking their books everywhere, without so much as an excuse me," Hermione snapped, looking at Ron the entire time she spoke.

"The corridor was crowded; he was causing a blockage. You can’t just stop traffic in the corridor; people need to get to class, you know," Ron said, glaring at her.

"Get to…Ron! Terry wasn’t blocking anyone, and you were very rude," Hermione said huffily.

"Erm…what was it you wanted to talk to Luna and me about?" Neville asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

Harry smiled as Neville’s eyes darted warily between Ron and Hermione. He was obviously nervous about their tempers and kept licking his lips as he watched them. Luna appeared unaffected, seemingly not paying attention to anything that was being said. Harry knew from experience that that wasn’t the case, however. Luna was more aware than a lot of people; she simply chose to pay attention to different things.

Harry and the others had filled Neville and Luna in about a lot of what had been happening, but not the reason why Voldemort was after Harry. Harry had decided the time had come for full disclosure. Since Voldemort already knew the prophecy, and there was a chance Fudge could have it printed, there was no need to keep it secret anymore. Besides, Harry had decided he needed the DA as his backup, these five people had stood with him in the past, and he needed to have people he could trust completely backing him up. To do that, they needed to know all the facts.

Harry cleared his throat. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to change the sponsor of the DA from Professor McGonagall to Snape," Harry said. "I refused. I told him I needed to trust the members of the DA and know that I could depend on them. You’ve all been with me through a lot."

"Of course you can trust us, Harry," Luna said, her protruding blue eyes blinking rapidly.

"There’s something I need to tell you both," Harry said, leaning in close so they wouldn’t be overheard. "It’s the reason Voldemort keeps coming after me…the reason he’s going to keep coming after me. You need to know all the facts if you’re going to commit to helping me."

Neville looked decidedly worried. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

Harry sighed and took Ginny’s hand. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze as he repeated the prophecy to them. They were all silent for a moment.

"Born as the seventh month dies," Neville finally said. "Harry-"

"I know, Neville, but the marking as his equal," Harry said quietly, brushing the fringe from his forehead to reveal his scar. "He chose me, and I’m the only one who can stop him."

Neville nodded grimly. "So…you have to find a way to beat him, and I know if anyone can do it, Harry, it’ll be you."

Harry’s chest constricted. "Thanks, Neville. Actually, we think we might be onto something. It involves Old Magic and a certain spell in an ancient book we have. Some of the people Dumbledore has working with him are translating it."

"Well, I’m certain Emmeline is working hard, but Bill and Jacqueline seem busier with each other," Ginny sniggered.

"Love is like a compass needle," Luna said dreamily; Harry ignored her.

"Voldemort knows the whole prophecy, and there is a leak somewhere in his organization, or Fudge is involved somehow, because he knows, too. He’s threatened to go to the Prophet with the story," Harry said.

"Maybe we could beat him to it," Hermione said. "Luna, would your father be willing to print another article about Harry in the Quibbler?"

Luna didn’t look at Hermione, but continued to shift her eyes around the room. "I can ask him. Of course, he’s quite busy with the latest sightings of Heliopaths at the Ministry. His sales haven’t been as good since the Prophet started believing Harry. He’s been having some difficulty with solicitors."

"I’m sorry, Luna," Harry said, feeling contrite. Luna’s father had printed Harry’s version of what transpired in that awful graveyard in Little Hangleton, and it had been a best seller. It had never occurred to Harry that her dad didn’t have another story to follow it up to keep those sales high. The other stories the Quibbler printed tended to be rather…outrageous.

"People are fickle," Luna said airily before focusing her gaze on Ron. "You still look very angry, Ronald. You really should learn to control your temper; not only does anger wreak havoc on your internal organs, but it creates erectile dysfunction, as well."

Ron’s ears, which were still red from his argument with Hermione, turned an even deeper shade as he goggled at Luna.

Ginny spat her drink everywhere. "Yes, Ron," she choked, "you really should watch that; it’s unhealthy."

Harry snorted into his glass of water, his face burning.

"Shut it, Harry," Ron said, sounding very disgruntled.

"Or what, you’ll knock my books all over the floor, too? I’m not going anywhere near the other side effects." Harry said, causing both Ginny and Neville to choke on their own laughter.

Ron scowled at a smirking Harry, who felt he owed Ron a lot of payback for all the Harry Potter Chocolate Frog cards that Ron had kept hiding everywhere at the end of last term.

"Oh, you’re one to talk about controlling your temper…Quidditch ban ring any bells, Potter?" Ron asked. "You must be permanently affected from fifth year."

Harry raised an eyebrow and put his arm around Ginny. "I’m doing just fine, thanks."

Ron’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch it, Potter."

"You started it," Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the both of them. "Fine, we’ve established that neither of you can hold your temper. It doesn’t solve the problem of what to do about the Ministry. If Fudge decides he should tell the world about the prophecy-"

"He’d be wrong," Ron interrupted.

"Ron, he’s doing this for his own political gain…to pressure Harry into supporting him. If we can find a way to take that decision out of his hands, he loses his leverage."

"I don’t care why he’s doing it, Hermione, and I don’t want to look at the logical reasons behind it. You just can’t stand to admit that the Ministry could be wrong," Ron snarled, pushing back his chair as he stood towering over her.

Hermione jumped out of her own chair to glare back, her smaller body standing toe-to-toe with his. "What exactly is that supposed to mean, Ron? Why don’t you just spit out what you’re trying to say?"

"I would think that you would have learned your lesson last year about blindly trusting anyone in a position of authority. Didn’t Diana Trent’s deception teach you anything?"

Hermione raised her hand and slapped Ron’s face with a resounding crack. Her lower lip trembled. "That wasn’t Diana Trent," she said, stomping her foot before she turned on her heel and fled the common room.

"Ron," Ginny hissed, her eyes narrowed dangerously, "you two have to stop shouting and start listening to each other."

Ron still stared at the spot where Hermione had disappeared. "I’m going to bed. Good night," he said gruffly.

"I’m going to check on Hermione," Ginny said. "I’ll be right back."

Neville looked at Luna. "You certainly know how to clear a room."

Luna smiled absently. "Walk me back to my dormitory, and I’ll try to clear my own common room like that," she said slyly.

Neville blushed but jumped to his feet and followed Luna out the door. Harry looked around at the now empty common room. He cleared the books that were left on the desk and stacked them neatly. It didn’t take long for Ginny to reappear. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him gently. "Hermione didn’t want to talk. She’s been feeling so guilty about what happened to you both last year. It’s hard for her to admit that she was wrong about Trent, never mind that she was the one who told her that you were meeting Malfoy. She’s so confused; it’s like her whole belief system was shaken."

Harry nodded, making a silent vow to try and make Hermione feel better tomorrow. What happened to him and Ron wasn’t her fault, but he knew how guilt could eat away at a person. Still, it wasn’t entirely Ron’s fault, either. Hermione did tend to trust most adults implicitly, and she refused to consider that she could ever be the one who was wrong.

"What are you thinking about?" Ginny asked.

He smirked and turned to face her. "Ginny, I’m seventeen and alone in a dark room full of soft, cushiony couches with my beautiful red-headed girlfriend, after a fairly risqué conversation. What do you think I’m thinking about?"

Ginny slapped him on the arm. "Prat."

He grinned and led her over to one of the soft, cushiony couches. They didn’t get any more homework done that evening.

During Friday’s lesson with Abe, Percy announced that he’d be meeting Ron, Harry and Ginny at the Ministry for their Apparation tests. Percy stressed how privileged Harry should feel for the special circumstances he was being granted. Harry didn’t mention that it was the Ministry who’d cancelled the original date. Their visit was being kept very quiet. Harry, Ron, and Ginny would floo to the Leaky Cauldron and walk over to the Ministry under Order guard. Percy would meet them in the Atrium and lead them upstairs. After they’d received their licenses, they would use the Ministry Apparation checkpoint to Apparate back to Hogsmeade.

At dinner on Friday, Luna joined the others at the Gryffindor table, and Harry filled them all in on the plan.

"What?" Ron exploded. "We have to spend the afternoon with that git?"

"Shhh, keep your voice down," Hermione hissed. "Honestly, Ron, what part of keeping this quiet didn’t you understand?"

All of them had opinions on or about how the day should go and how to handle Percy, except for Luna, who remained decidedly quiet. Then again, Luna was usually slightly off in her own world.

"I’m dreading having to tell Mum we saw him," Ginny groaned. "I hate the look that always creeps into her eyes whenever he comes up in conversation."

Hermione patted Ginny’s back sympathetically. "It must be very hard for your parents. Maybe tomorrow he’ll be decent, and you’ll have something good to tell your mum."

"Not likely," Ron scoffed. "What time are we leaving?"

"Abe and Cordelia are walking us down to the Three Broomsticks at half one; we’ll use the Floo from there," Harry said.

"Percy isn’t going to be in the room with us when we take our tests, is he?" Ron asked. He looked a little bit nervous.

"Dunno," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow."

"Well, I need to get to the library. You three should try and finish up your homework so it won’t be hanging over you tomorrow," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I’m real worried about it," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe if you worried about it a little more you wouldn’t be in this mess," Hermione snapped.

She and Ron had barely spoken to one another since their row in the common room. Harry rolled his eyes; he’d hoped that they would mend their rift, but that didn’t seem likely. He hated that they were really at each other’s throats these days, and he was endlessly cast in the role of referee. "Enough, enough," he said, interrupting them before Ron could retort. "We’ll plan on heading out after lunch, okay?"

"Okay," Ginny said, leaning over to kiss him on the nose. "I need to talk to Professor McGonagall about something for class. I’ll meet you in the common room."

Harry awoke with nervous butterflies in his belly the next morning. He wasn’t certain why – he knew he could pass the test, and he had confidence Ron and Ginny would, as well. There was no reason to be nervous. He wondered if it would put more pressure on Ron if he went first, or if Harry and Ginny did. Harry decided to wait and let Ron make that call.

Ginny had a lot of revising to do, so he and Ron spent the morning on the Quidditch pitch tossing the Quaffle back and forth. They joined Ginny for lunch, then met Cordelia in the Entrance Hall. She was dressed in a bright yellow cloak.

"Hello, then, dearies," she said with a smile. "Abe is outside, waiting for us. We thought the fewer students to see him here the better. Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma’am," Ron muttered, openly staring at Cordelia. Harry sniggered; Ron was as bedazzled with Cordelia as Seamus was.

The walk to Hogsmeade took a while, and they enjoyed the bright fall day. When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, they were already running a little behind, so they had to sprint up the street to the Ministry. Harry had hoped to be able to sneak into Diagon Alley to buy a frame for his mother’s picture, but it obviously wasn’t meant to be.

They entered through the old Muggle phone booth, stating ‘Apparation Test’ as the reason for being there. Percy was waiting inside the lobby; he was obviously perturbed with their timing and started in on them at once.

"It’s about time you arrived. You nearly missed the allotted time for the first test; one of you would have had to go home without taking your test. The Ministry is very busy and time is not to be wasted," he said without so much as a hello.

"It’s nice to see you again, too, Percy. I heard you were engaged; it’s a shame you haven’t found the time to introduce your fiancée to your parents," Ginny said, snarling her words.

Percy ignored her. "Follow me, quickly now." He led them to an elevator, where they rode to the sixth floor. The door immediately across from the elevator read ‘Apparation Testing Facility.’ Percy pushed it open and strode up to the witch sitting at the desk.

"I have three subjects here to be tested. I have an important matter to discuss with the Minister," he said pompously. "Could you please send me a memo when they’re finished, and I’ll return to collect them?"

"Of course, Mr. Weasley," the witch replied.

Percy looked over at his siblings and Harry. "Have a seat, and they’ll get to you in a timely fashion. Good luck," he said, nodding and adjusting the glasses on his nose before leaving. Harry could tell he was uncomfortable, and it saddened him to see how far the relationship between the Weasley siblings had deteriorated. Percy may have always been a bit fussy, but he was still a Weasley.

He didn’t have long to dwell on that thought, because the witch behind the desk said, "Right, then, which one of you is first?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other before replying simultaneously, "Ginny."

"Hey!" Ginny said.

"Ladies first," Harry said, grinning sheepishly.

Ginny got up and walked over the desk. "Suppose I’m going first, since my brave companions just sold me out."

The witch behind the desk merely blinked, her facial expression not changing at all. "Ginevra Weasley," she said, speaking into a small, round disk on her desk. "Candidate for a License to Apparate." She turned to Ginny. "Please step through the door."

Ginny turned in confusion; there was no other door aside from the one they’d entered. Her eyes widened as a door appeared on the wall next to the desk. It was bright red with a shiny gold handle. Ginny turned towards Ron and Harry. "Cheerio, then."

"Good luck, Ginny," they chorused.

After Ginny entered the door, it disappeared into the wall once again. It gave Harry an uneasy feeling after seeing her vanish, and he stood up and began to pace. Ron stretched out his long legs in front of him, leaned his head back on the chair, and shut his eyes. Harry shook his head and continued to pace.

"Will you sit down, mate?" Ron finally said without opening his eyes. "You’re making me nervous."

"How long did you have to wait the last time?" Harry asked.

"I didn’t; I came on my own the last time, didn’t I?" Ron said.

"Who is next?" the witch behind the desk asked. Harry decided he definitely didn’t like her attitude.

"He is," Ron said, jerking his thumb towards Harry and still not opening his eyes.

"Are you certain?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. I’m fine, and your pacing is driving me barmy."

Harry punched Ron lightly on the arm and walked up to the cranky witch.

"Harry Potter, candidate for a License to Apparate." she said into the little disk. "Please step through the door."

With a final, tight smile towards Ron, Harry entered the red door. He found himself in what looked like a huge warehouse facility with rows and rows of shelving. Large letters hung from the top of each row, labeled A through K. A short wizard with a bushy black mustache stood waiting with a clipboard.

"State your full name," he said without looking up.

"Harry James Potter."

The wizard looked up sharply, his eyes doing the familiar upward glance towards Harry’s forehead. Harry gritted his teeth and waited until the man asked his next question. "Right, then. Please Apparate to section H, on three."

Harry looked over at the row marked ‘H’ and formed the picture in his head.

"On three," the tester said. "One…two…three."

Harry opened his eyes and found himself standing beneath the large ‘H’, although he was no longer in a warehouse. He was outside in a field. He could smell freshly cut grass and hear the ripple of a brook nearby. He looked at the wizard who had accompanied him, with a question in his eyes.

"So…is it true you’ve actually seen You-Know-Who?" the tester asked boldly.

Harry nodded.

"What does he look like?" the wizard whispered in awe.

"Like the snake that he is," Harry replied coldly. He was getting tired of this place. "Look, is that it? Is the test over? I don’t really want to talk about Voldemort."

"Shhhhh, blimey! What do you think you’re doing, saying that here?" the tester asked, looking around frantically. "Keep your voice down and don’t say the name, for Merlin’s sake."

Harry had had enough. "I will say Voldemort, since that is who you’re asking me about. You should, too. He wants you to be afraid of him; don’t let him win."

The panicked tester was horrified, and he’d had had enough of Harry. "See that pond over there? Apparate to the other side." Harry did as he was told. He did two more tests before ending up back in the warehouse. The tester no longer seemed interested in talking to Harry. In fact, he appeared quite eager to be rid of him. He handed Harry a document with a Ministry seal under the word ‘pass’. "Hand that to the witch on the other side of the door, and she’ll give your license. Have a nice day."

Harry walked through a green door this time and found Ginny waiting on the other side. "How did you do?" she cried when he entered.

"Passed," he said, handing in his form. The witch at this desk had the same disinterested look as the witch on the other side. She handed Harry a small scroll with his name and ‘License to Apparate’ written on it.

"I got mine, too," Ginny said. "Now we just have to wait for Ron."

"He’ll do it," Harry said confidently.

Ginny smiled and nodded before turning her head back to her book.

"What are you reading?"

"Just an idea for some extra credit work for Professor McGonagall," Ginny said, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Extra credit? What’s that?" Harry asked with a grin.

Ginny scowled at him. "I have to do some extra work, Harry. My OWL results were terrible, particularly in Transfiguration. I need to do everything I can to boost my marks so when it’s time for NEWTs, I can make up for the OWL scores."

Harry grimaced, feeling another pang of guilt. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Don’t go feeling guilty about this, Harry. It isn’t your fault, it just is. I’ve asked Professor McGonagall about learning to become an Animagus," Ginny said.

Harry was stunned. "An Animagus…wow, Ginny. That’s going to take a lot of work, and you already seem overloaded. Are you certain you’ll have time for this?"

"Of course I am," Ginny snapped. "I know it will take a lot of work, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m going to do this, Harry."

Harry bit his lip; he knew the easiest way to set Ginny off was to tell her she couldn’t do something. She’d go full barrel ahead, damn the consequences, to prove that she could. He knew he should stay quiet and let her think about it herself. He knew that. Just shut it, Potter.

"Ginny, you’re going to burn yourself out if you’re doing this much extra for all your classes," he said. You idiot.

He watched as the storm gathered on her face, her eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle? You’re undertaking NEWTs, Quidditch, DA, extra training, not to mention the fate of the world," Ginny spat, keeping her voice low enough so the witch at the desk wouldn’t hear her, but still with enough heat to let Harry know he’d done it this time. "I’m doing this, Harry, whether you like it or not."

Harry listened to his inner monologue and held his tongue this time. He knew Ginny had only been considering the idea before he opened his big mouth; now he’d gone and goaded her into it. He hoped it wouldn’t be a decision she’d later regret.

He was saved further argument when the door opened and Ron entered the room, a huge grin spread across his face. "No problem," he said smugly.

"Good show, Ron," Ginny said, beaming at him.

Harry clapped him on the back. "We’ve all done it, then. Maybe when we get back to Hogsmeade we can stop for some butterbeer to celebrate."

"I’ve sent a memo to Mr. Weasley; he’ll be here to collect you shortly," the witch said, handing Ron his license. Ron admired it for a moment before putting it in his pocket.

The door banged open, and Percy shuffled in, glancing at their pleased expressions. "I’m happy to see you’ve all passed. The ability to Apparate is a privilege not to be taken lightly. Did you get your copies of the Ministry’s Official Guide on the Rules and Regulations of Apparating Standards?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and I know just what to do with it. Let’s go; I’m ready to get out of here."

"I’m afraid I can’t leave right now," Percy said, puffing his chest out importantly. "I need to send an important owl that simply cannot be delayed. You’ll have to go onto the checkpoint without me. I’ll see you at your next training session on Monday, Harry. Ronald, Ginevra…congratulations. Good day."

"That…stuck up…pillock," Ginny stammered, at a loss for words.

"Forget him," Ron said, although his ears were colored a telltale red. "Let’s get out of here."

The three took the elevator to the main lobby and walked across the street to the visitor Apparation checkpoint. As soon as they entered, Harry felt that something was wrong. The place was deserted, not even a Ministry guard at the desk. The silence was eerie, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up an instant before he yanked Ginny to the ground and screamed at Ron, "Get down!"

He pulled Ginny behind the guard’s desk as a barrage of spells flew towards the area where they’d just been standing. Ron had hurled his body the other way and now was trying to use some small fold-up chairs as cover. They were only a few steps from the Apparation point, if they could just reach it without being hit. The wards surrounding the Ministry wouldn’t allow them to Apparate anywhere but in the designated locations.

Harry peered around the corner and fired off several stunning spells. He could see the Death Eaters now; they were huddled in groups on each side of the room. A jet of red light streamed towards him, bursting above him and Ginny. Ginny volleyed her own stunning spells back. Harry had time to register that, while some of the curses directed at them had been powerful, none had been killing curses. Whoever had organized this wanted them alive.

"Ginny, if I cover you, do you think you can make it onto the Apparation platform?" Harry asked, sending a Reductor Curse at the wall some of the Death Eaters were hiding.

"No," Ginny panted, her eyes darting wildly from side to side. "We all need to get out of here together, Harry. I’m not going through that again. Can we make it back out the way we came in? We could run back to the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry shook his head. "I don’t want to lead them into a crowded pub," Harry said, frustrated that she wouldn’t get away. He used his wandless magic to extend the shield he had covering himself over her, as well.

Ron yelped when the chairs that he was hiding behind blew apart. He rolled to the side and plastered himself against the wall.

"All right, Ron?" Harry yelled over the noise.

"Been better, Harry," Ron replied tersely, firing a Diffindo at his attacker.

"Potter, Weasley…so nice of you to join me," a female voice purred from the opposite sign of the room. Harry caught Ron’s eye above Ginny’s head; he knew that voice.

Narcissa Malfoy showed her face briefly, while the other Death Eaters held their curses. Her blue eyes glittered dangerously as she swept over the flimsy cover the Hogwarts students were using.

"What do you want?" Harry demanded, his voice bearing a confidence he wasn’t certain he possessed. His eyes rapidly scanned the other Death Eaters. Although they were masked, their bodies appeared youthful, and they certainly weren’t the experienced and lethal foes he expected from Voldemort’s inner circle.

"I’m making the demands here, Potter, not you. The Dark Lord is interested in you; I’m not, and I’ll leave you to him. It’s Mr. Weasley, here, with whom I’ve a score to settle," she said, her eyes holding Ron’s intently.

"So…you’re settling your own debts behind Voldemort’s back? That’s very brave of you, Mrs. Malfoy. I wouldn’t have expected you to be that reckless," Harry said.

Narcissa’s eyes shifted slightly. "Shut up, Potter. Your big mouth isn’t going to help you here. Lower your wands and come quietly, if you don’t want your little girlfriend hurt."

"Touch her, and you’ll die," Harry replied calmly. He felt Ginny’s nails dig into his arm, although she held her wand trained on the Death Eaters.

Narcissa let out a sharp breath of air. "You’re ridiculously confident for a school boy, Potter, and I’ve grown weary of you. Take them," she said to the Death Eaters accompanying her.

The Death Eaters began to fire again, and Harry stood up and fired a barrage of curses with such speed and intensity that it was nearly impossible to follow. He began using some of the more archaic, but extremely effective, offensive spells Abe had been showing him. At first, Ginny tried to pull him back down behind the cover of the desk, but once she realized he was holding his own, she turned back towards the Death Eaters and began firing her own spells.

Narcissa moved towards Ron, who continued to fire his own curses. Harry disarmed all the Death Eaters who were on their side of the room with quick precision, and turned towards several who were trying to flank Ron. Ron yelped when a Slicing Curse hit him in the shoulder. He slammed his hand to it, trying to stem the blood flow.

Harry fired a powerful, "Stupefy," at the offending Death Eater, who went down in a heap. The remaining Death Eaters had pulled back and were retreating from Harry’s powerful spells towards the cover of the wall on the opposite side of the room. Harry wrapped his arm around Ron’s waist and pulled him to his feet.

"Hang onto me – we’re getting out of here," he said, dragging Ron towards the Apparation platform. He used one arm to drag Ron, while he held his wand poised towards Narcissa. He continued to use the wandless magic on the other Death Eaters, who were obviously confused by the spells that seemed to come from nowhere. He fired a Reductor Curse towards the wall that a number of them were using as a shield. The concrete splintered and cracked, sending dust and debris everywhere. Ginny covered their backs as they approached the platform.

Harry had just about reached it when he felt Ginny’s body crumple behind him. In the confusion, one of the Death Eaters had flanked them on the side of the room that Harry had already cleared. Harry let go of Ron and blindly reached for Ginny, panic consuming him.

"I’m all right," she gasped. "Pay attention, Harry; Ron and I are right behind you."

Harry felt a fury like none other he’d ever experienced course through his body. He turned his cold, emerald eyes towards the Death Eater who’d struck Ginny and slowly pointed his wand. He paid no attention to anything else happening in the room and didn’t even notice how the lights flickered and all the glass on the windows shattered.

"Diffendo," he snarled, watching the spell tear into the man’s chest as he was blasted into the wall behind him. He collapsed to the ground as if he were boneless. Harry pushed Ron and Ginny forward, and the three literally lurched onto the platform. Harry sent one final Cutting Curse towards Narcissa Malfoy that hit her on the side of the face before Apparating away.

The three breathless teens appeared a moment later outside the gates of Hogwarts. Ron had stemmed the flow from the wound on his shoulder, but the front of his robes was covered with blood. Ginny leaned on Harry before her eyes rolled back and her legs gave out from under her.

Harry gently eased her to the ground, his hands running over her, trying to find the wound. She jerked when his hand touched her side, and he noticed the tear in her robes. He pulled up her T-shirt and could already see a bruise appearing on her ribcage. He scooped her up in his arms. "Can you make it to the castle?" he asked Ron tersely.

Ron was pale and swayed slightly on his feet. "Yeah, I can make it; take care of Ginny."

Harry gritted his teeth and tried to control his own impatience. "Lean on me," he said, adjusting Ginny’s weight in his arms. She was a tiny thing, but she was dead weight in her unconscious state. Harry’s stomach knotted. She’ll be all right.

Slowly, the three made their way back towards the castle. They hadn’t gone very far when Professor McGonagall and Cordelia came rushing down the path to meet them. Professor McGonagall’s eyes raked over them, taking in their bedraggled appearance. "Kingsley Shacklebolt notified Professor Dumbledore about the attack at the Ministry. Why wasn’t Percy Weasley with you? He was supposed to make certain you left there safely," she demanded, placing Ron’s arm around her own shoulder. Cordelia supported Ron on his injured side, while Harry sprinted ahead with Ginny.

"You know Percy…important Ministry business," Ron said weakly.

Harry didn’t hear the rest of the conversation; he was moving as fast as he dared while holding Ginny. He wanted to break out in a run, but was afraid of injuring her further, since he didn’t know what kind of damage she’d sustained on the inside. "Stay with me, Ginny," he whispered against her hair. "I can’t do this without you."

He burst through the doors of the hospital wing, startling Madam Pomfrey. "Potter! Put her here and stand back; let me work."

Harry laid Ginny on the bed and stood back helplessly. He chewed on his lip as the healer began work on Ginny. Harry wasn’t certain how much time had passed before Ron and the others joined him.

"How’s Ginny?" Ron demanded, as Cordelia settled him on another bed.

Harry shrugged, his eyes never moving from Ginny’s prone form. Professor McGonagall came over and gently directed him to a chair. Her hands ran lightly over his face and shoulders. "Are you injured, Potter?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. Professor McGonagall squeezed his shoulder gently. She didn’t say anything, but she stood by his side while he waited for the prognosis on Ginny. He was grateful for the silent companionship.

Chapter Eighteen: Quidditch, Anyone?

As darkness descended across the sky, and the lanterns within Hogwarts lit themselves, Harry sat unmoving in a chair by Ginny’s bedside. He’d been sitting there since late that afternoon, when Madam Pomfrey had announced that Ginny would recover. Two of her ribs were broken, and she’d sustained injuries to several of her internal organs. Madam Pomfrey had been giving her Blood Replenishing Potions since she’d arrived, but she had yet to regain consciousness.

Ron’s shoulder had been quickly cleaned and healed. He’d wanted to stay and wait for Ginny to wake up, as well, but Madam Pomfrey had insisted she’d give him a Sleeping Draught if he planned on staying. She wanted him back in his dormitory, cleaned up and resting. Ron had grumbled on the way out, but Harry could see how tired he was. Madam Pomfrey had tried to send Harry on his way, as well. She’d promised to notify him as soon as Ginny awoke, but he wasn’t budging. So, here he sat, in his dirty clothes stained with Ginny’s blood, staring at her still form and willing her to awake.

He hated to see her this way. Ginny was supposed to be vibrant and full of life. Her eyes always sparkled – whether it was with fire when she was angry or glee when she was causing mischief – and he wanted to see that sparkle now. Her beautiful red hair was fanned out across the pillow, and Harry thought she looked like a princess he’d seen in one of Dudley’s storybooks when he was small. Dudley never cared much for the books, so Harry always got to look through the pictures.

He shifted in his seat again. Truth be told, his back ached, and the leg he was sitting on had gone numb a long time ago. He longed for a hot shower to relieve the soreness and tension in his muscles, but he couldn’t leave her. How many times had she sat in this very position, waiting for him to awaken after an injury? He glanced guiltily over at the empty bed beneath the sign bearing his name. He’d left the Ministry uninjured, but he’d easily trade places now if it meant Ginny would be all right.

He reached his hand over and threaded her fingers with his own, wishing she'd squeeze him back in reply. His thumb gently caressed the side of her hand while he absently ran his other hand through her hair. He was always amazed by how soft her hair was, and he loved to trail his fingers through it. He loved anything that involved touching her, and anything that involved her touching him.

The Dursleys had never been affectionate, and he’d always been rather uncomfortable with physical contact. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were the first people to hug him, but it was Ginny who was the first to really touch him and the first he actually sought to touch. Once he’d begun, he’d found it amazingly hard to stop and craved her presence next to him all the time. She’d started by running her fingers through his hair when she used to comfort him after his nightmares after Sirius had died, and he still enjoyed when she did. As he thought about it, he realized he was now doing the same thing to her hair.

"Please wake up, Ginny. I’m worried about you, and I want you to tell me you’re all right. I need you so much. I want you to smile and tell me I can do what I have to do, and in the same moment tell me I’m a prat and that I can’t do something simple – like sneak down to the kitchen without getting caught."

Harry sniffled slightly, leaning in closer to her. "You mean so much to me, Ginny. You pulled me back when I was so close to the edge last year. Remember that stupid after-party when I got pissed and told you I had a crush on you? You never called me on it; you let me work it out in my own time. Hermione told me you’d given up on me…but you hadn’t really, and I still don’t know why. I’m certainly not worth that kind of devotion – or loyalty – or whatever it was. Even when I knew I was attracted to you, I fought it, but you never left. You’ve always been there, right under my nose, even though I was blind for so long. You changed my world, Ginny, and I can’t go back to the way I used to be – I don’t want to. Don’t…" Harry stopped, taking a deep breath. "Don’t leave me, Gin.

"I wish…I wish I could offer you everything; anything your heart desires, I’d do if I could. But…but…sniff…but in reality, I can offer you nothing but hope. I hope that one day I’ll be able to give you everything you need, Ginny. Just give me some time." Harry wiped furiously at his uncooperative eyes – they were making his glasses fog. He found it ironic that him talking about his feelings always made Ginny so happy, but was something he found exceedingly hard to do. Even though he’d gotten better at it with her over the past year, it just wasn’t something he was comfortable doing. Now that she was asleep and couldn’t hear him, he was doing exactly what she wanted him to do. He wondered why it was so much easier this way.

"I can’t lose anyone else, Ginny, I just can’t – especially not you. I need you so much. We can’t keep going through this. If nothing else, one thing is crystal clear to me," Harry said, sniffling. His brow furrowed as he tried to form coherent thoughts. "When this is all over, I don’t want any more…no more bad guys…no more dark arts, no more any of it. The Ministry can take their Auror job and shove it for all I care. I’ve had enough of this stuff. I want out. I want peace and quiet and some fun – with you. Always with you.

"Please wake up, Ginny. Wake up and tell me what to do for you. Please," Harry said before laying his head next to Ginny’s warm body and crying softly, his hand still running through her hair.

"You could nick me some ice cream," Ginny whispered groggily, her own hand reaching out weakly for his.

Harry’s head shot up with a start. "Ginny!"

"Hey, luv."

"You’re okay," he whispered, one single tear still trickling its way slowly down the side of his nose. "You came back to me."

"Of course, I did, Harry. Don’t be ridiculous," she said, although her voice sounded very weak. "It’d take more than a few junior Death Eaters to get me away from you. You, on the other hand, look bloody awful."

Harry snorted. "Glad to see they didn’t damage your charm," he said with a chuckle.

"Is Ron okay?"

"Yeah. Madam Pomfrey patched him up and sent him back to Gryffindor tower a while ago. He’ll be glad to hear you’re awake."

Ginny’s eyes fluttered closed without commenting.

"Ginny?"

She sighed lightly and rolled to her side. Harry smiled and kissed her forehead. Convinced that she was truly going to be okay, he stood and stretched before wearily making his way back to the dormitory.

Ginny was released from the hospital wing the following day, as good as new. She immediately immersed herself in her homework, and Harry barely even saw her. She didn’t say whether or not she’d spoken to Professor McGonagall about the Animagus training, and he was hoping she hadn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she could do it – he was certain she could do anything she set her mind to – it was just that he thought she was pushing herself too hard. Ginny didn’t like to be told she couldn’t do something. She had the need to prove herself. He suspected it had something to do with being the youngest in a big family. The others tended to treat Ginny like she was still a baby at times, and he could see how much it irritated her. He’d noticed the same thing with Ron, always feeling in the shadow of his brothers. With Ginny, however, she had the added fact of being the only girl, and seemed to feel she had something to prove.

When classes began again, Harry was anxious for his lesson with Abe. He wondered what Abe would say about the incident at the Ministry, and he also hoped to get some news on what was happening within the Order. Now that Ginny was okay, he’d had time to really think about the battle. When he’d struck the Death Eater that hurt Ginny, he’d been angry enough to kill him. How dare anyone touch her? He knew he hadn’t killed him, though, because he’d heard the man groaning. Still, he didn’t know what had happened to him after they left. The fact that he’d been angry enough to do it was encouraging. Maybe when the time came for the final battle and he’d have to kill or be killed, he’d have a chance after all.

Abe was already in the Room of Requirement, standing in the corner and smoking a cigar, when Harry arrived. He had the disconcerting habit of placing a cigar behind his ear while it was still lit. Harry kept waiting for his hair to catch on fire, but it never did.

"Good afternoon, young Harry. I understand you had some excitement over the weekend," Abe said.

"I wouldn’t say it was all that exciting," Harry replied dryly.

"No, I suppose you wouldn’t. All right, then, we’ll talk about it after our lesson. First, let’s see how you’re doing with animating these stones," Abe said, as a series of stones in various sizes materialized on the floor. Harry had been struggling with this spell. He’d been struggling with a lot of spells recently, but this one in particular. Today, however, with his added determination, he could suddenly make it work. The stones moved to block the curses Abe sent Harry’s way, and soon he was controlling several objects at once, in addition to the spellwork with his wand.

"Very nice," Abe said, smiling. "You’ve been practicing, have you? Your movements are much more precise than they were last week."

Harry shrugged. "I dunno why; I’m not certain what’s different."

"I’d imagine it’s seeing your lady friend hurt. The protectiveness you’re feeling towards her is a powerful emotion, and you’ve already proven that your emotions make you stronger. Focus in on that need to protect her, that drive to keep her safe. It’s giving you power."

"The power he knows not…d’you think that’s what it means?" Harry asked.

"I don’t know anything about that. Al’s the namby-pamby, thinking one. He always led with his head; I led with my wand…sometimes my fists. There’s a time for all approaches. It seems to me that you’ve got a great deal of love inside you. You feel very strongly for the people that surround you, and they return that to you. Voldemort, see, he doesn’t have that…so maybe that is where your strength comes from. Seems to me, only you can know for certain. When the final confrontation comes, you’ll do what you always do – think on your feet and just feel your way through it. But then again…what do I know? Al just brought me in to teach you to fight for extended periods. No one’s better than carrying on a grudge than me," Abe said with a lopsided smirk.

Harry smiled. Abe told him how he’d fought with Professor Dumbledore against Grindelwald when they were younger. After Professor Dumbledore defeated the evil dark wizard, he and his brother had chosen different paths, although they’d always stayed close. Professor Dumbledor chose to teach at Hogwarts and keep a close eye on the Ministry. Abe had no use for the Ministry and liked to work just outside its reach. He kept his ear close to some of the more unscrupulous circles and informed Professor Dumbledore when he suspected trouble. A lot of the spells and curses he showed Harry were older and some verged close to Dark Magic, but all were powerful and effective.

They practiced a bit more before the door opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore making his way into the room. Harry was struck by how slowly he moved and noticed that he trailed his hand along the furniture as if supporting himself.

Abe immediately doused his cigar and waved frantically at the smoke. He was trying to be inconspicuous and failing miserably. Harry momentarily forgot his concern over Dumbledore’s appearance as he watched Abe struggle to act normally.

"Al, what brings you down from your perch today?" Abe asked, his voice noticeably high.

Professor Dumbledore glanced at his brother with a raised eyebrow, and Harry could read the amusement in his gaze. "Good afternoon, Aberforth. Harry," he said, nodding to each of them. "I am certain you have noticed the absence of Mr. Weasley today."

Both Harry and Abe started looking uneasily at one another. In actuality, Percy’s absence had gone unnoticed during their session.

"I see," Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I think Mr. Weasley would be disappointed that he hasn’t made more of an impression. I received a firecall from Cornelius, stating that Mr. Weasley was indisposed today. He will be joining you on Wednesday. Personally, I have a few questions I would like him to answer, myself."

"Questions about what happened at the Ministry?" Harry asked. He knew that the Ministry would do nothing about the fact Percy had left them on their own when he was supposed to accompany them to the checkpoint; they always covered for themselves. He really didn’t think there was anything more to it than Percy’s pompous self-importance. Besides, nothing the Ministry could do would be worse than what his own family had in store for him. Mrs. Weasley had already sent him a Howler and Fred and George were developing an entire new line of products with Percy specifically in mind. It was a mistake Percy wouldn’t soon forget, and Harry hoped, for Ginny’s sake, that he was at least ashamed of himself.

"Percy was supposed to remain with you and accompany you to the Apparation point. I would like to know what was so significant a distraction."

"What about the McClaggen girl?" Abe asked.

"Jacqueline? What about her?" Harry asked. "What does she have to do with any of this?"

"Ms. McClaggen was supposed to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron and escort you to the Ministry. Obviously, you arrived unharmed without her but we have been unable to locate her. Bill Weasley is heading the search, but, as of yet, we have nothing," Professor Dumbledore replied.

Harry’s gut twisted with dread. Oh, no. "How long has she been missing?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"She was last seen by Mr. Weasley on Friday evening. She had planned on doing some research in the Ministry Hall of Records before meeting you at the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday morning. As far as we have been able to piece together, she never arrived at the Ministry."

"Who else knew she was supposed to meet Harry and the Weasley kids?" Abe asked. Harry was slightly disgruntled by the term "kids" and all the protection, but he was more interested in hearing what was happening, so he held his tongue.

"Most of the Order," Professor Dumbledore sighed.

"Sounds to me like you’ve got yourself a spy," Abe said, twitching his lips to the side.

"I fear you are correct."

"A spy? In the Order, you mean?" Harry asked, considering all the people he’d known for so long now. He didn’t want to think any of them would betray him to Voldemort, but he supposed his parents had felt that way, as well, and look what happened to them. He wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.

"Harry, we need to be very careful about whom we entrust any information to in the future. Until I can narrow down a list of suspects…well, as Alastor would say, we must practice constant vigilance," Professor Dumbledore said sadly.

"What is Voldemort doing? What do we know?" Harry asked.

"The Dementors and the giants have sided with him, and it appears the werewolves are leaning that way. Remus is trying to make headway on that front. The goblins are on our side, which is a hugely significant victory for our side. As long as Voldemort doesn’t gain control of the wizarding gold, his progress is slowed considerably. I still have some meetings with representatives of the trolls and the merpeople. The centaurs remain neutral."

"What about the vampires?"

"Vampires are solitary creatures. They don’t hunt in packs like the other groups do, so it is more difficult to negotiate with them. Because one agrees to go along with you, doesn’t mean any of the others will follow. They also have never proven to be particularly trustworthy when making an oath in the past.

"I do have one old acquaintance, Sir Ivan Horvath, with whom I have made some progress. I may introduce you at some point in the future."

"What about Narcissa Malfoy? She purposely went after Ron."

"Yes, and from what I have heard, Voldemort was not pleased. Not only did she do something that wasn’t a direct order, but she let you escape, yet again. Voldemort values obedience, and I suspect that Mrs. Malfoy will be punished severely for her independence."

They sat quietly for a few moments, digesting the new information. Finally, Abe stood and began tidying the room. "We’ve done enough for today. Why don’t you head back to the tower and catch a few moments with your lady friend, kiddo?"

Harry started and looked up quickly at Abe. He felt like he’d been sucker punched, and he was amazed how much the loss of Sirius still hurt. It was over a year later, and a little reminder like an old nickname could take him back so completely. No wonder Ron and Ginny were still struggling with reminders of Charlie.

"Are you all right?" Professor Dumbledore asked with some concern. Both he and Abe were staring at Harry, who had gone very pale.

"I’m f-fine. I’m fine. I’ll see both you and Percy on Wednesday, Abe. Ron is coming, as well. Let me know if you hear anything about Jacqueline, all right, Professor?"

"Of course."

As September continued to fly by, Harry became more and more eager for the start of the Quidditch season. Ron had booked the pitch for the coming weekend so they could hold tryouts to fill the Chaser position Katie Bell had left.

Gryffindor House held a small party for the Head Girl’s birthday. Harry had been worried about how Ron would react, but he joined the celebration and even gave Hermione a present. She hadn’t opened it where Harry could see, and he was left wondering what was inside. He was confused as to where his best friends stood with each other. They were no longer dating, but they weren’t acting like friends, either. Harry couldn’t help but notice how red Ron’s ears turned when Hermione helped Terry Boot, or how closely Hermione paid attention when Ron talked to Hannah Abbott in Potions class. Harry found it all very confusing. It seemed obvious to him that they still cared for each other, but both were too stubborn to admit it. It was almost like they’d gone back in time to fourth year.

Harry continued to have an easier time with his classes, as long as Ron and Hermione weren’t pulling him in opposite directions. The only time he really struggled with a spell, or with anything he was trying to master, also coincided with the times he was having the most difficulty with his friends’ bickering. He’d noticed how his frustration manifested itself in his spellwork, so he’d tried to avoid them when they were at their worst.

When they were all getting along, he picked his lessons up more quickly and with less effort – a fact that greatly annoyed Hermione. Somehow, he could feel this new power growing within him, as he became more determined to finish the battle. He couldn’t control his new fear of the dark or the memories it invoked; he couldn’t control his incapacity to breathe in enclosed spaces, despite the fact he knew it was only in his head. But he could control the battle. It gave him energy and made him feel empowered. He would never be a helpless victim again. He knew what he had to do, and he was determined to do it.

Snape seemed to notice his new attitude, and it rubbed the former Potions Master the wrong way. Harry thought Snape was incredibly smug about having finally landed the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and Harry enjoyed showing him what he was capable of doing. The new defense teacher constantly tried to belittle Harry in class and make his achievements appear small and contrived.

Snape had started the class off in elimination rounds of dueling before they even had time to practice or warm up after the summer holiday. Lavender and Parvati were eliminated quickly by Seamus and Hermione, Neville had defeated Dean, and today would be the final first round match between Ron and Harry. Harry knew Snape had set it up this way deliberately and would thoroughly enjoy watching the friends try and curse each other.

As he walked into class with Ron and Hermione, Harry took a deep, steadying breath. It always helped him to clear his head before doing anything that involved Snape. Harry had discovered that actually holding his temper and controlling his emotions – something Snape had always insisted Harry was incapable of doing – irritated the man more than anything else. Holding his temper around the man was an Occlumency lesson in itself, but well worth the effort. Of course, Gryffindor ended up losing a load of points every Defense class.

Snape strode into the classroom with a delighted sneer upon his face.

"Good afternoon, class. I trust you are ready for today’s final first-round elimination duel. Potter, Weasley, step up please and try not to break anything. Although, after Longbottom’s round last week, I daresay there is nothing breakable left."

Neville flushed in embarrassment, causing Harry to narrow his eyes at his vindictive teacher. Neville had actually been doing remarkably well in the dueling, and Snape really had no reason to criticize. Of course, when had that ever stopped Snape in the past? Ron and Harry got out of their chairs and walked to the center of the floor. Snape had cleared all the chairs to the back of the classroom, so they had plenty of room to move.

Snape sat behind his teacher’s desk, the infuriating sneer still pasted upon his face. Ron and Harry bowed to one another, each giving a slight grin. There was a time, several years ago when Harry would have been very nervous about having to face Ron in a duel in front of their peers. He’d have been afraid that Ron would get angry if Harry beat him. Now, after several years maturity and a lifetime of shared experiences, Harry knew that Ron still might get mad if Harry beat him, but it would be short-lived. It was the thrill of the competition…the chase…the confidence of that one time that victory would be achieved that Ron enjoyed. It was the same feeling Harry had when they played chess…one of these times, Harry was going to surprise him with a move he hadn’t seen coming. They were both competitive, yet still enjoyed besting each other in friendly competition.

"Okay, slim, let’s see what you got," Ron said with a smirk.

"Just be careful you don’t trip on those abnormally long legs," Harry shot back. During their sword fighting, they’d taken to tormenting each other on their height, or lack thereof, and each other’s physical appearance in general.

"Locomotor Mortis," said Ron at the same time Harry fired a Jelly Legs Curse. Both easily dodged the spells. They continued circling one another, firing off several of the lesser, easily defended hexes.

Harry levitated several of the empty desks and started hurling them at Ron, who was startled by the multiple fronts. He sent a hard Stinging Hex at Harry that Harry’s shield easily deflected. Harry picked up the pace and started firing curses more rapidly. Ron, although struggling, kept up at first, but soon became flustered with the rapid fire. He stopped hurling any offensive spells, instead concentrating on defending himself. His shield soon began to flicker. Panicked, he yelled, "Garrulus."

Harry was too focused on the heat of the fight at this point; he could taste the victory now. He aimed a spell at Ron that he’d learned in Quidditch Through the Ages. He was certain Ron would recognize it, although he’d added an extra precaution to make it harmless. "Innoxius Sagittarius."

Along with the rest of the class, Harry watched as a rubber arrow shot from his wand and sailed in a perfect arc towards Ron’s forehead, bouncing off and landing on the floor with a harmless thud. The Appleby Arrows used to use that spell during Quidditch matches before it was banned. Ron, of course, knew what the spell was and lost his concentration, following the arrow’s progress. Harry quickly uttered, "Expelliarmus," and easily grabbed Ron’s wand in his hand.

Ron shook his head to clear it. He grinned and stuck out his hand to shake Harry’s. "Thanks for not making it a real arrow, mate," he said.

The spell Ron had used before Harry sent the arrow finally registered in Harry’s consciousness. "Garrulus, Ron? You actually tried to hit me with a Babbling Hex?" he asked.

Ron shrugged sheepishly. "I can’t help it. These duels always remind me of Lockhart, so that one has been on my mind."

Before Harry could respond, Snape interrupted them. "If the mutual admiration society would kindly take their seats, I’ll continue with the class. The disgraceful display you just witnessed here is a prime example of what a duel isn’t. If you are ever in a situation where you really need to duel, forget the silly nonsense and go immediately for your best spell. It might be your only chance in getting away."

Harry glared at Snape. "Excuse me, sir, but you said the object of this lesson was to disarm only."

"Tell me, Potter, exactly what has to happen to you before you realize you can’t always believe what you see or what you hear?" Snape asked silkily.

Harry’s blood boiled. He was dimly aware of Hermione tugging on his sleeve, but he ignored her. Snape assigned some reading, and as he walked around the classroom, he leaned over so only Harry could hear him.

"Your powers may very well be growing, Mr. Potter, but I suggest you work extra hard on controlling them so no one else has to be hurt. I saved your sorry arse for Professor Dumbledore and the world in general, not because of any strong personal feelings towards you. In all honesty, I don’t expect you to live past the final battle, but with that Gryffindor sacrifice you are all so famous for, I do expect you to take him out with you."

Harry refused to let Snape see that he had shaken him. He stared defiantly back into his former Potion Master’s glittering black eyes without blinking, until Snape finally straightened up and walked away.

Harry finished his reading without absorbing any of the words on the page, and when the bell rang, he was the first out the door. He moved quickly and agilely through the crowd of students until he’d reached the entrance hall and sprinted outside. He moved towards the Quidditch pitch, raising his hand in the air and hissing, "Accio Firebolt." Fortunately, it was still fairly warm outside and the window to his dormitory was open. His beloved broom sailed easily towards him, and he grabbed it without breaking his stride.

As it always did when he took to the air, he felt the tension and anger leave him. He wished there were some way he could fly Voldemort to death – flying had always been what he did best. Even after all these years, it had lost none of its thrill.

He stayed out on the pitch until darkness began to settle on the grounds, and he finally had to join the others inside. Both Ron and Hermione demanded to know what Snape had said to him during class, but he chose to keep it to himself, much to Hermione’s annoyance. They’d been sitting in the common room, waiting for him, when he came inside while everyone else had gone to dinner, and Hermione had immediately set in trying to find out what had happened. His continued dodging of her questions only increased her irritation.

"But, Harry, obviously you were upset. Everyone could see it. You must learn to control your temper; you know he purposely tries to get you riled, and you continue to let him," Hermione said in frustration.

"I can’t help that he does get me riled, but I didn’t explode," he snapped. "I held my tongue, then went outside to burn off steam. It’s the best I can do, Hermione, so don’t ask me for any more."

"Lay off, Hermione," Ron finally said, and Harry was grateful to have his support, though saddened at the same time that Ron didn’t automatically back up Hermione, as he’d done so often in the recent past.

"Oh, I might have known you wouldn’t take my side, even if it is for his own good," Hermione said bitterly.

Ron sat straight up on the couch, glaring at her. "And just who put you in charge of deciding what’s best for everyone else? Harry’s not a house elf, Hermione."

"Exactly what is that supposed to mean? This has nothing to do with S.P.E.W. I simply want to keep Harry alive, and losing his temper all the time isn’t the way to do it."

"How do you know? Seems to me he’s lived this long despite all the attempts on his life, and he’s always lost his temper. Maybe he doesn’t want you trying to save him your way, the same way the house elves don’t," Ron snarled.

Harry could see tears sparkling in Hermione’s eyes and knew Ron had gone too far. Hermione meant well, and she truly did have his best interests at heart. Ron tended to fly off the handle and say the first thing that came into his mind when he was angry. Harry was angry, too, however, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his point. He’d reached the limit of his patience with his friends; he was tired of being tugged in half.

"That’s enough, Ron. You’re taking your frustration out on Hermione when you really just need to talk to her," he said, glaring at his friend. Ron crossed his arms across his chest and looked the other way.

Harry turned towards Hermione. "I know Snape thinks he’s somehow readying me for this fight, and I am ready for it. Snape always told me that I had to control my emotions, but we learned last year that my strength comes from those emotions, so he has been wrong."

"Maybe that’s why everything was always so much worse after lessons with Snape – you were fighting your own natural instincts," Ron said, tilting his head to the side.

"But…but your anger gets you in so much trouble," Hermione said tearfully. "I don’t want to lose you, Harry."

"This is how I handle things, Hermione, and I can’t change who I am. I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be, and you’re going to have to accept that. It still may not be something I want to do, but when has what I wanted ever mattered?" Harry turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs before her tears could make him come undone.

This battle was his destiny, and it was close. He could feel it. The sooner both Ron and Hermione accepted that, the easier it would be for all of them. He didn’t want to hurt them, but this was something he had to do. If anything did happen to him, he hoped they’d still have each other to lean on, and to help Ginny through it.

Harry pulled the hangings round his bed and settled down to clear his mind. He had a harder time doing it tonight, and he was certain it had something to do with the hard feelings amongst him and his friends. He had a nagging feeling that the dissention between them couldn’t be a good thing and might even be a sign of hard times ahead.

Harry woke up on Saturday morning bright and early, because he was eager to start the day. Today would mark the start of the Gryffindor Quidditch season. They were holding tryouts for two Chaser positions and their first practice right afterwards. Ron had offered Katie’s vacant position to Tracy Bennett, who had played reserve the previous year, but Tracy instead chose to take the reserve Seeker position. Tracy really wanted to play Seeker, and the Gryffindor team would need a new Seeker the following year. Ginny didn’t want it; she preferred playing Chaser. That left them needing both a starting Chaser as well as a reserve.

Things had been tense between the friends the morning after their row, but he and Ron had gradually let it go without speaking about it, the lure of the Quidditch tryouts giving them something else on which to focus. Hermione had been avoiding both of them. Harry knew she wanted to talk about it, but he preferred the idea of just letting it slide.

He could hear loud snoring coming from Ron’s enclosed bed, so he stuck his head between the curtains and said loudly. "Ron! The Slytherins are already on the pitch – we overslept so they nabbed our time slot."

Ron was out of bed in an instant. "Those bloody wankers! When I get my hands on them…where are my trousers?" he demanded, looking around wildly before realizing Harry was doubled over with laughter.

"Keep the noise down, Weasley – some of us are trying to sleep," Seamus called from his bed, his voice muffled beneath his pillow.

"You’re the wanker," Ron said to Harry without lowering his voice at all.

Harry had tears of mirth in the corner of his eyes. "If you could have seen your face."

"Sod off. What time is it, anyway?" Ron grumbled. He glanced at his clock, then turned to Harry and shouted, "I could have slept for another ten minutes."

"Shut it," Dean yelled from behind his curtains. "Go play and let the rest of us sleep."

"Come on," said Harry, tugging on Ron’s arm. "Let’s grab some breakfast before we go outside."

Ron, who had finished changing at this point, glared at Harry as they walked down the stairs into the common room. "Don’t think I’ll forget about that little stunt, Harry. Head Boy or not, I’m still going to make you practice longer than the rest of them today."

"I’m certain you will, Ron, but the longer you keep me out there, the longer you’ll have to stay out there."

Ron shrugged. "Fine by me – not like I have anyplace else to be," he said, climbing out of the portrait hole.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Ron was right. Last year, by the time practice was over, Ron had always been eager to see Hermione, and the two of them would disappear for a while. This morning, Hermione hadn’t been in the common room waiting for them, and Harry wasn’t even certain if she was coming to the tryouts. She’d mentioned something about study plans last night, but he hadn’t really been paying attention.

Harry glanced at Ron while they walked toward the Great Hall, wondering what his friend was thinking. Harry knew that if it was Ginny who had plans with someone else, Harry would be heartbroken and probably unable to concentrate. Ron appeared to be unconcerned, but Harry couldn’t accept that Ron was really over Hermione. He’d loved her for too long.

Ginny was already eating breakfast with the other members of the team. Harry sat next to her and pecked her on the cheek. "Good morning."

She looked kind of grumpy; like Ron, she’d never been a morning person. "What are you so happy about this early?" she asked, covering a yawn with her hand. "I hate when you’re all chipper in the morning, Harry. It’s bloody unnatural."

"I see you woke up on the wrong side of the bed," replied Harry, reaching his arm across the table and grabbing some toast.

Ginny scowled at him as he smirked.

"You wouldn’t believe what he did to me this morning," Ron said, shoveling a mound of eggs onto his fork. "Woke me out of a dead sleep, screaming something about Slytherins stealing our field time."

Holly Proctor, now a fourth-year and Gryffindor’s other Chaser, chuckled loudly, earning a glare from Ron. "I already promised an extra long practice for him today, Proctor. Any more sniggering, and you’ll be joining him."

"Did we get many sign-ups for the open spots?" asked Andrew Kirke.

"Not as many as I would’ve liked, but hopefully we’ll get at least one decent person and another we can train a bit," Ron said, standing up and looking expectantly at the others. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get up. Move."

The others stood up quickly and followed Ron outside into the warm air. It was a beautiful late September day, not too warm and not too chilly. Even at the early hour, there were several students already outside, enjoying the lovely autumn day. Ginny slipped her hand into Harry’s as they walked toward the pitch. He smiled down at her.

"It’s really nice out. Want to take a walk around the lake after practice?" he asked.

Ginny knitted her brow. "Can I hold off on answering that?" she asked, then seeing the disappointed look on his face, continued. "It’s only that I want to see how late practice runs. I have a lot of work I need to do, and I’m starting to fall a bit behind."

Harry nodded, hoping she’d change her mind. He still thought she was doing too much but didn’t feel like another row at the moment. When they reached the pitch, there were already several students there with their brooms.

"Okay," Ron shouted to get their attention. "We’re going to start with some drills. Form two lines – Harry and I are going to be playing Keeper on each end of the pitch. I want you to try to get some goals past us. Ginny, you watch the players shooting at Harry; Holly, you watch the ones with me. Andrew, Jack, you two keep the line moving. After we narrow it down, we’ll put you in with some of the rest of the team and see how you do."

Everyone began to follow Ron’s instructions, and Ginny leaned towards Harry so only he could hear. "It’s a good thing they don’t all know what a horrible Keeper you make, Harry, or they’d all be trying to get into your line. This really isn’t fair to the ones going against Ron."

"Excuse me," Harry said in mock offense. "I wouldn’t say I was a horrible Keeper."

"Oh, I know you wouldn’t say it, Harry, but I would, because you are," Ginny giggled, swatting him on the rear before taking off on her broom.

Harry grinned, "Oh, you’ll pay for that, Weasley."

They managed to narrow it down to four prospects before Ron had them try each player out in a mock game. None of the four particularly stood out, but none were so horrible they could easily be dismissed, either. After about an hour of play, Ron called the existing team into a huddle. "Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"Well," Ginny said, "any of them might be okay…really."

"If it’s all the same, skill wise," Jack said slowly before his voice tapered off at the end.

"What?" Ron demanded. "Spit it out. We need to make a decision so we can still get in a practice.

"Well, Emily McTavish is a fifth-year, like me, and she tends to whine a lot in class. She tends to whine a lot in general, actually," Jack said, knitting his brow.

"Okay, so not Emily. We don’t need any whiners, and, besides, a whiny player in her O.W.L. year is NOT something I want to deal with," Ron said. "Anyone else?"

"Since they’re all the same skill-wise, I’d vote for Nate Daniels, I think," Holly said. "He’s a third-year, and we don’t have any players in third year. That way, we’ll never hit a year like last when nearly the whole team had to be replaced."

"Good thinking," Ron said, clearly impressed with Holly’s strategy. "Okay, everyone in favor of giving the open Chaser spot to Nate?"

They all agreed, and the reserve spot went to Meghan Finnegan, a fourth-year who also happened to be Seamus’s sister. When practice was over, Harry managed to convince Ginny to take a walk with him, after all. They walked around the lake, hand-in-hand, with Harry pulling her behind a tree for a snog every few meters. Ginny giggled and allowed herself to be pulled.

"This has been a nice day," Ginny said, sighing.

"Yeah, but it’s not over yet."

"I have a meeting with Professor McGonagall after lunch," Ginny said. "She’s going to start teaching me to become an Animagus, if I can do it."

Harry swallowed. "You’re going to do it, then?"

"I told you I was."

"I know. Can I help?" Harry asked, feeling how tensed her body had become. She instantly relaxed against him and gave him a huge smile. "Thanks, Harry. I’ll let you know."

"What did your Mum say?"

"Well…I haven’t really mentioned it. I’ll tell her if it looks like I’ll actually be able to do it. If I can, she’ll have to accept it; this is important to me, and it might help you."

"Ginny-"

"Don’t say it, Harry. This is my choice, my decision. This war is affecting all of us, all of our futures are at stake, and I want to do my part. Professor Dumbledore said you get your strength from us, so we need to be strong for you."

Harry sighed. "I don’t doubt your strength, Ginny, but I can’t help that I want to protect you. I’d do anything for you…I’d move through time for you if that’s what you needed."

"I know you would, luv…and I’d do the same for you. I love you, Harry James Potter. My life is so completely entwined with yours that I don’t even know where you end and I begin. As much as you want to protect me, I want to protect you. We’re a team, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I’ve got buckletloads of this testosterone stuff telling me that I should be the one protecting you."

Ginny giggled. "Stuff it, Harry. I can think of better use for your testosterone." She tugged hard on his hand and pulled him behind a tree. Grabbing his jacket with both hands, she pushed his back into the tree and pressed her lips forcefully to his own. They barely made it back to the castle in time for Ginny’s meeting with McGonagall.

Chapter Nineteen: It All Hits the Fan

Harry bolted upright in bed and stared around wildly before realizing he was in his dormitory. He wiped the sweat from his brow and allowed his heart rate to slow. He’d been dreaming again…it was a dream he’d had several times the previous year about Ginny lying dead in the Chamber and then morphing into Voldemort. For some unknown reason, the dream had been repeating itself again.

Ginny had given him some of the Dreamless Sleep Potion, too; he must be building up a kind of resistance to it. Ginny had been faithfully administering it every third night, talking with him at length about his captivity and what had transpired while he was there. He’d been reluctant at first, but found it easier the more he told her. Although he was still regularly having nightmares, the ones focused solely on that time were diminishing, and the flashbacks were rare. Remus had been right – talking about it did help.

He tried to lie back down, but his eyes were open wide and adrenaline still coursed through his veins. He knew he’d not be getting any more sleep on this night. Sighing, he quietly got out of bed and pulled some books from his trunk. He tiptoed from the room and headed down to the common room, where he sat in his now familiar spot. He spread his books out on the table to work on his Transfiguration essay. This restlessness had become such a common ritual with him lately that he was nearly as ahead in homework as Hermione. Although Hermione was pleased that he was showing more interest in his studies, he knew she was suspicious of when he was getting it all done. The one fortunate thing about her being so focused on fighting with Ron was that it let him – and his bad habits – slip under her radar.

Harry put his books away as students began straggling into the common room early the next morning. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and stretched his legs in front of him. He’d planned on going for a run, but it was pouring rain outside, so he decided to skip it for today.

"You’re up early," Hermione said as she sat down at the table across from him. Her eyes were puffy, and she looked rather tired herself.

"Yeah…couldn’t sleep. You?" Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lavender and Parvati kept me awake much too late with their gossiping. They’re impossible."

Harry chuckled; he’d never really though about it before, but Hermione must have had a tough time rooming with those two all these years. She really didn’t have a lot in common with them. "Gossiping? Anything I should know?"

Hermione waved her hand in the air. "Same as always – who’s seeing whom? Since you haven’t given either of them the time of day, they’re quite interested in Ron these days."

Harry watched Hermione closely. She’d said the last bit casually, but he’d known her long enough to recognize the alertness in her eyes and set of her shoulders. She wanted to know herself if Ron was seeing anyone else. Harry didn’t want to be in the middle of this feud between his friends, but he really couldn’t see a way to stay out of it without pulling away from both of them. Their friendship was strained already, and he didn’t want to lose any more of what he had.

Fortunately for him, Ginny chose that moment to arrive. "Morning, Harry. Morning, Hermione," she said, plopping down at the table and laying her head on her arm. "You two look like you’re having a deep conversation already. What’s happening?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I was just telling Harry that I couldn’t sleep last night because of Lavender and Parvati’s chatter."

"Oh. More intellectually stimulating conversation?" Ginny asked with a snigger. Obviously, she and Hermione had discussed this topic in the past.

"Right in one."

"Should we wait for Ron or go get some breakfast? Is he coming down?" Ginny asked.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "I’ve been here for a while. I’m hungry; let’s get something to eat, and he can meet us there."

"Didn’t you sleep well?" Ginny asked, picking her head up from the table.

Damn. Harry realized too late that he’d said too much. "I had some work to do," he said evasively.

"Harry, I gave you the Dreamless Sleep Potion last night…you should have had a full night’s sleep. You look exhausted," Ginny said, running a hand along the side of his face.

"Harry, are you building up a resistance to the Sleep Potion? That’s not good, you know," Hermione said, frowning. "Madam Pomfrey has had to up your dosage once already."

"I know," he said, sighing and rapidly scanning his tired brain for a change of subject. He was simply too knackered to come up with anything. "Let’s just go downstairs and grab a bite to eat. I’m starving."

Hermione appeared ready to protest, but Ginny cut her off. "Okay, let’s get some food. You can ask Madam Pomfrey about it later."

As they walked into the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table, Professor McGonagall got up from the professors’ table and made a beeline towards them. Harry stifled a groan and hurriedly filled his plate. She reached him just as he stuffed a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Good morning, Potter," she said before lowering her voice considerably. "Professor Dumbledore would like a word with you after you’ve finished your breakfast. The password is Pepper Imp."

Harry nodded at her before she continued on her way out the door.

"I wonder what that’s all about?" said Ginny.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno, but I’ll find out soon enough."

He quickly finished his breakfast before venturing up to the headmaster’s office once again.

Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him when he reached the top of the moving staircase. "Good morning, Harry. Come in and have a seat. Can I offer you anything to drink?"

"No, thank you, sir. I just finished breakfast. Is something happening with Voldemort?" Harry asked

Dumbledore sat down heavily and began playing with the whiskers on his chin. Harry noticed his beard appeared to be thinning out slightly.

"Some of your teachers could not help but notice that there has been some tension amongst you and your friends, Harry. Is there anything I can do?" he asked, startling Harry with his words. That hadn’t been what Harry was expecting.

"No, sir. Ron and Hermione always argue, and it sets me off sometimes. That’s all, really."

"I hope so, Harry. We must all try to control the squabbles amongst ourselves. Voldemort thrives on disharmony, and he will do his best to encourage it. Our best defense is to keep our faith in one another. Do not let him…or anything he is doing…divide you from your friends. I have told you before that I believe they are your greatest strength, and you must not let that bond become weakened," Professor Dumbledore said gravely. He stopped when a fit of coughing overtook him, and he sipped on a glass of water.

Harry could feel that annoying lump in the back of his throat again. It seemed intent upon returning whenever he talked with Professor Dumbledore these days, and Harry wasn’t certain why. The headmaster was right, however; he couldn’t allow this pettiness to come between him, Ron, and Hermione. He had noticed that his classwork had suffered whenever he was more focused on the tension with his friends. They had to pull together; he just had to figure out how.

"It’s nothing to worry about, sir. Ron and Hermione will find their way back to each other. They always do…the rest of us just have to survive the crossfire."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, yes…the splendor of youth. Sometimes we all forget how painful those years can be. You are all now considered adults by age, but emotionally, reaching adulthood is a more painful process. It’s much like childbirth, actually – a lot of pain that is soon brushed aside by the wonderful outcome."

Harry furrowed his brow, uncertain about he headmaster’s analogy. He didn’t know much about childbirth, and honestly, he didn’t really want to know. He was much more interested in the events leading up to the need for childbirth than in anything to do with the process itself. And what that all had to do with Ron and Hermione fighting was beyond him.

Before he had time to ponder any further, the fireplace flared and a dusty Remus Lupin emerged, shaking the soot from his gray hair.

"Moony!" Harry exclaimed, delighted to see him. "I didn’t know you were going to be here."

"I asked Remus to join us to give us an update on what is happening back at headquarters," Dumbledore informed him.

Remus finished wiping the ash from his clothes and moved towards Harry with a genuine grin. "It’s good to see you," he said, enveloping him in a one-armed hug.

"You, too. How is everyone back at headquarters?" Harry asked.

"All right," Remus answered slowly. "It’s a bit hectic there right now. Jacqueline has been found, and she’s alive."

Harry’s heart soared; he’d never expected to find her alive. "How? Where? What happened? Where has she been?"

"I think we would all like answers to those questions," Professor Dumbledore said. "Sit down, Remus, and give us a full report. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Tea would be fine."

Professor Dumbledore conjured a pot of steaming tea and poured three cups as Remus sat in the chair Dumbledore indicated.

Remus took a sip of the steaming hot liquid before beginning. "As you know, Bill’s been leading the search team investigating her disappearance, but they’d turned up nothing. Yesterday, we got a call from our contact at St. Mungo’s that an unidentified young witch had been brought in. Bill rushed over to check, and sure enough, it was Jacqueline. She’s in rough shape and hasn’t been able to answer any questions. She’s been tortured and placed under a very strong memory charm. The healers have been unable to break it and fear they cannot without causing irreparable damage."

Professor Dumbledore rubbed his fingers along the length of his mouth in quiet concentration.

"Why, though? I mean…I’m happy they didn’t kill her, but why take the time to place a memory charm? It doesn’t make any sense," Harry said.

"They wanted some information from her. Perhaps they did not learn what they needed and wanted to see where she goes," Dumbledore said, thinking out loud. "Remus, please ensure that Bill is the only member of the Order who visits Miss McClaggen; we don’t want to tip our hand."

Remus nodded. "I’ll keep you posted, sir."

"Is there anything else?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

Remus hesitated for a moment. "Well…Moody is still extremely concerned about the wards here at Hogwarts, sir."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I’m aware of Alastor’s concerns."

Harry immediately sat up straight in his chair. "What’s the matter with the wards?"

Professor Dumbledore hesitated a moment before answering. "The wards that are in place around Hogwarts are set by each headmaster during his tenure and are directly tied to that witch or wizard. I’ve been feeling rather tired of late, and Alastor is concerned that the wards are weakening."

Harry felt a thrill of fear; he had noticed how tired and sickly Professor Dumbledore appeared recently. He may have some ongoing issues with his headmaster, but he still couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. "Are you all right, sir?" he asked in a very small voice, afraid of hearing the answer.

Dumbledore patted his arm gently. "Nothing to worry yourself with, my boy, although I appreciate your concern. There is simply too much happening all at once for an old man to juggle. That is why I have such a trusted circle of confidants to aid me. It is what you need to do, as well, Harry. Keep your trusted ones close and let them help you."

Harry nodded, feeling like Dumbledore hadn’t exactly answered his question.

"I am afraid that the discovery of Miss McClaggan will not be received well by Cornelius," Dumbledore said, swiftly changing the subject.

"No. I was concerned about that myself," Remus replied.

"Why? What does Jacqueline’s disappearance have to do with the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"Cornelius is desperate to protect the Ministry’s reputation, and the attack at the Ministry is not playing out well for him. He’s been using Jacqueline as a scapegoat, insisting it was her slip that revealed your presence at the Ministry that day. It’s why Percy has not been attending your training sessions with Abeforth. Cornelius did not want him being questioned."

"You don’t think Percy was involved, do you?" Harry asked, feeling alarmed. He would never want to have to face Mrs. Weasley with that kind of news. "But…that attack wasn’t Voldemort, it was Narcissa Malfoy after Ron. Percy would never sell out Ron." He had a few things he wanted to discuss with Percy when he finally saw him. No matter what his intent had been, his mistake had put Ginny’s life in danger, and that wouldn’t be tolerated. Still, Percy was a Weasley, and Harry simply couldn’t bring himself to believe that he would sell out his own family. He’d sell out Harry – most likely he’d be happy to do it – but not Ron. Harry didn’t think so, anyway.

Neither Professor Dumbledore nor Remus answered for a moment. "It appears that Cornelius is as yet unaware of Narcissa’s involvement, which brings us to the question of from where his information is coming. Of course, it is highly likely that he is hiding information from us in the same way we are hiding information from him."

"But…if it wasn’t Fudge, and it wasn’t Jacqueline…where is the leak?"

"That is the crucial question. Harry, we must be very careful about whom we trust with this information."

"Of course."

"I need to be going. I’ll be rather incommunicado for a while, but I promise to send word when I return," Remus said as he stood.

"Going where?" Harry asked with some alarm.

"I can’t give you all the details, Harry. You must understand that no members of the Order can know exactly what everyone else is doing. It’s safer for all of us that way. I’ll keep the mirror with me, but only for an emergency, all right?"

Harry didn’t like it, but he did understand and appreciated Remus keeping him in the loop. "All right, Moony. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t take any chances."

Remus smiled warmly and gave Harry a brief hug goodbye. "You, too, young Prongs," he said gently cupping Harry’s chin for a moment. "Stay out of trouble, and behave yourself with Ginny. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

Harry grinned. "That leaves me wide open."

After Harry left Dumbledore’s office, he didn’t feel like returning to Gryffindor tower and dealing with Ron and Hermione’s bickering until he had a chance to clear his head. He felt particularly anxious about both Remus and Professor Dumbledore. He needed to fly. Since it was Saturday, and he had the day to himself, he decided to head over to the Quidditch pitch. He managed to retrieve his broom without being seen and took to the air.

He had known that NEWT year would be difficult, but he’d never expected how overwhelming it would be. Between training, homework, the DA, Quidditch, and patrols, he barely had time to catch his breath. It was the responsibility of the Head Boy and Girl to schedule the prefect rounds, and, at first, he’d paired all his rounds with Ginny. He soon realized that they spent more time doing the things that he was supposed to be stopping others from doing. It would be just his luck to have the castle invaded because he had decided to put himself back in a broom cupboard.

He had to admit, broom cupboards had moved up significantly on his list of favorite places. Although he missed the time with Ginny, at least he was paying attention, and he’d had the chance to get to know the prefects from the other houses. He avoided rounds with Pansy Parkinson because she was still so hostile, but he’d worked with Blaise Zabini on several occasions that had gone remarkably well.

Harry had flown hard for only a short time before he noticed a shadow tailing him. The back of his neck prickled slightly as he tensed before he noticed that his ‘pursuer’ had flaming red hair and wore an impish grin.

"Hi, Ginny," he said as he slowed and allowed her to fly up alongside him.

"You’re upset," she said simply.

"A bit. I saw Remus when I was with Professor Dumbledore; he’s going on some kind of Order business, but wouldn’t say much. Oh! Jacqueline has been found." Harry quickly filled Ginny in on all that had taken place during the meeting. He told her she needed to keep the news of the wards quiet. He’d tell Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna, but the rest of the DA was only on a need-to-know basis.

Ginny listened quietly, her face grave. "This is all getting so close," she whispered.

Harry reached over and squeezed her hand. "We just have to stick together; that’s what Professor Dumbledore said."

"He said that?"

"Uh, huh. He’s worried about all the bickering with Ron and Hermione. He said that’s what Voldemort thrives on, and he wins if we become divided. I need to have a talk with Ron and Hermione, but I’m still trying to work out what to say," Harry said, noticing the Hufflepuffs entering the field for their practice. Their first Quidditch match of the season against Ravenclaw would take place the following weekend.

"Come on. Hufflepuff must have booked the pitch; I hadn’t even checked. Let’s walk around the lake, okay?"

Ginny nodded and followed him. They joined hands and carried their brooms over to a secluded spot before sitting down. The leaves crunched on the ground around them, and the lake reflected the glorious autumn colors. There was a definite crispness in the air, making Ginny wrap her arms around herself.

Harry put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm as they leaned back against a tree. Ginny snuggled in closer to him. "So, you’ve got to talk to Ron and Hermione and tell them to quit being such dunderheads and start talking to each other?"

Harry chuckled. "Basically."

"Good luck to you. Either one of them is liable to take your head off. They’re being such ninnies, and they really aren’t being fair to you. You have to stick up for yourself and tell them how they’re making you feel," Ginny said, craning her neck to see his expression.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste; he was not going to tell Ron and Hermione about his feelings. Ron would smack him upside the head if he tried. No, he’d talk to them…but he still didn’t know what to say.

"Honestly, Harry, you’re such a boy. It’s obvious they’re lost without each other. Hermione went on that date with Terry. Did I tell you? When I asked her how it was, she said ‘lovely,’ but the more I wheedled, the more she admitted. She said Terry was very nice and treated her very well. They talked about all sorts of things, and he’s very knowledgeable, blah blah blah…but she didn’t have a lot of fun. She said they never really laughed."

"Ron shows her a good time. Hermione has an adventurous side – she just buries it," Harry said.

"Uh, huh. What about Ron? Has he said anything?"

"What? About Hermione, you mean?"

"No, about the weather. Of course, about Hermione, you prat."

Harry shrugged. "Nothing specific. I think the sword fighting is helping him, though. He’s mellower. Of course, I don’t know if that’s because he’s not with Hermione."

Ginny laughed. "What’s going on with him and Hannah Abbott?"

"I dunno. He hasn’t said much, but I think it’s because he’s afraid that I’ll tell you or Hermione."

"So, ask him."

"What do you mean? Just come right out and say, ‘Hey, Ron, you’re paying a lot of attention to what Hannah has under her robes," Harry scoffed.

Ginny slapped him in the arm. "Well, maybe not in those terms, but yeah, exactly like that."

"You’re daft."

Ginny picked up a bunch of dried crinkled leaves and dumped them on Harry’s head. "Why do you boys have such a hard time asking a simple question?"

Harry spluttered, wiping the leaves out of his hair. He grabbed a bunch more and began to bury Ginny under them.

She shrieked and kicked her legs to get away. Standing up, she gathered a huge pile and stalked toward him with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Don’t hurt me," he said, chuckling and holding up an arm to fend her off.

"Don’t hurt you, Harry? Are you afraid of little old me?" Ginny asked with amusement.

"Of course, I’m afraid of you," Harry said, grinning mischievously. "You have a lot of power over me."

Ginny thought about that for a minute, then nodded. "Good to know. I like having power over you," she said, beginning to stalk towards him in a very sultry way. "That power makes me feel very sexy, Harry," she said, trailing her finger slowly and sensually along the side of his face. "There’s something very attractive about having power over you."

Damn! Harry licked his suddenly dry lips. At that moment, he’d willingly give her his Firebolt if she asked for it. She grinned and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Close your mouth, Harry; that expression you’re wearing is very unbecoming. I told Hermione I’d meet her in the library. She’s helping me with a Potions essay. I’ll see you at lunch."

Harry sat mesmerized, watching the gentle sway of Ginny’s hips as she walked away.

"Get your eyes off my sister’s bum," Ron hissed, coming up behind him and plopping down on the grass next to him.

"How do you know I’m looking at her bum?" Harry asked.

"You’re always looking at her bum," Ron grumbled.

"No. She has plenty of other parts I like to look at," Harry said with a wicked grin.

"Harry! Enough. I don’t want to hear this, you wanker," Ron said before he paused, a disgusted look crossing his face. "And I don’t want to think about you thinking about her when you do that either. Oh, gross, Harry."

"You said it, not me," Harry said, laughing at Ron’s expression.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Ron asked.

"Well, we were out flying, but the Hufflepuffs are having a practice so we had to leave."

"Yeah, their first match is next week. Are you going with Ginny?" Ron asked a little too casually. He shifted his eyes when Harry looked over at him.

"I suppose so. I hadn’t really given it much thought. I just assumed we’d all go together like we usually do."

"Oh."

"Why? What’s going on, Ron?"

"Well, um...I sortofkindoftoldHannahI’dsitwithher," Ron said very fast.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, knowing perfectly well what Ron had said but wanting to make him squirm.

Ron took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "I told Hannah that I’d sit with her."

Harry forced his expression to remain neutral. He wanted to act as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world, and that his insides weren’t screaming in protest. "Oh, okay. I’m certain Ginny won’t mind. I’m don’t know if Hermione is bringing Terry or not."

Ron scowled briefly before saying, "No. Hannah wants to sit with her friends and cheer on her team, so I said I’d sit with them."

"Oh. Okay, then. That’ll be strange," Harry said before he could stop himself. Harry had never watched a match that he wasn’t playing in without Ron.

"Yeah, I know." There was a moment of silence before Ron said a little too brightly. "Want to go up to the Room of Requirement and fence? Abe showed me a new move I want to try on you."

"You’re on."

After dinner that night, Harry waited in the common room for the crowd to thin out. Ginny sat with him, furiously writing her essays, but Harry couldn’t seem to concentrate. He was exhausted after not sleeping well the night before and having such a busy day. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and snuggle under the feathery comfort of his blankets. When the room was nearly empty, he asked Ron and Hermione to join him and Ginny at a table in the corner.

"What’s on your mind, Harry?" Ron asked immediately.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I need to talk to you both about something Professor Dumbledore discussed with me."

Hermione immediately perked up. "What did he say, Harry?"

"He’s worried about the fact that we’ve been rowing so much lately," Harry said bluntly, then instinctively gripped Ginny’s hand more tightly. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"What?" Ron said. Hermione merely blinked owlishly.

Harry took a deep breath. "He said that our teachers have commented on the tension amongst us, and he’s worried. He said that Voldemort thrives on disharmony, and the more we bicker, the weaker we become."

"Bloody hell," Ron said. "The headmaster is actually paying attention to our rows?"

"Ron, if Professor Dumbledore thinks our bickering is hurting Harry, then we have to do something to fix it," Hermione said, color flooding her cheeks.

"Oh, right. Of course, you’re willing to change your tune the second a teacher asks you to do it. You couldn’t simply do it when it was only one of your friends’ ideas, could you?" Ron asked bitterly.

"All right, you two," Ginny snapped. "This is exactly what Professor Dumbledore is talking about. You two are constantly having a go at each other. That isn’t all that different, but what’s changed is that you’re dragging Harry into the middle of it, because you’re not kissing and making up anymore. If you two really want to find yourselves, or whatever it is you’re doing, you need to do it without making Harry choose between you, because he can’t do that."

"I’m sorry, Harry," Hermione said immediately, tears springing to her eyes. "I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing, but Ginny’s right. Ron and I have been friends for a long time, and that’s not going to change." She looked over at Ron with a slight hesitancy, as if uncertain of her words. It seemed so very un-Hermione-like.

"I’m sorry too, mate. You know we’re with you, no matter what, right? I’ll always be there for both you and Hermione if you ever need me," Ron said, his eyes suspiciously bright.

Hermione flung her arms around both Ron and Harry and squeezed their heads tightly. "We both promise to try, Harry."

"And I’m certain Ginny will remind us if we slip," Ron said, grinning at his sister and pulling her into their group embrace.

Harry, who had remained quiet through most of the exchange, smiled gratefully at Ginny and his friends. "Thanks. You know I can’t do this without you. The idea that you two aren’t seeing each other anymore will take some getting used to for all of us, but we were friends first, and we need to make certain we hold on to that."

"We will, Harry," Hermione said earnestly.

The morning of the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match dawned sunny and cool – perfect Quidditch weather. The week had gone relatively smoothly for Harry, and he was looking forward to the match. Hermione, Ginny, and he were going together; Ron was sitting with Hannah in the Hufflepuff section, and Neville was sitting with Luna and the Ravenclaws.

Harry had a good week of classes and felt he deserved a day off. He wasn’t certain who he was cheering for; he just hoped it was a long match. He’d had a training session with Abe the previous day, and Percy had shown up for the first time since the Apparation test. He was very quiet and subdued, scribbling furiously in his notebook, but he said very little. When Harry had begun to berate him for leaving them and Ginny getting injured, he merely bowed his head and didn’t protest Harry’s tongue-lashing. His meekness subdued Harry somewhat, although he still gave Percy quite a beating while they dueled. Percy had ended up needing a visit with Madam Pomfrey before he’d left for the day.

Harry hadn’t realized that Hermione didn’t know Ron wasn’t sitting with them for the match until he mentioned it at breakfast. Hermione had grown very still, but she’d smiled pleasantly and told Ron to have a good time. Harry was grateful for her effort in not bickering, but he felt bad, nonetheless. He wouldn’t like to be in her situation.

They walked over to the stands and found seats right in the middle. Seamus and Lavender were snogging heavily at the end of one bench, and Parvati was doing her best to ignore them. She seemed very happy to see Hermione, Ginny and Harry.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," Parvati said, glaring at the oblivious Seamus and Lavender. "These two need to get a room."

Ever the Head Girl, Hermione marched over to the couple and forced them apart. "Seamus and Lavender, I don’t want to take points, but I will. You should be ashamed of yourselves; there are first-years here. Sit up and pay attention to the match."

Seamus glared at her for interrupting and pulled Lavender closer to him. Lavender rolled her eyes, and Hermione returned to her seat.

"Where’s Ron?" Parvati asked.

"He’s sitting in the Hufflepuff section," Hermione answered without elaboration.

"Hufflepuff? Are you supporting Hufflepuff today? Didn’t they win the Quidditch cup last year?" Dean asked, climbing on the bench to join them.

Harry felt Ginny stiffen beneath his arm. Hufflepuff had won the Cup the previous year after beating Gryffindor while Harry and Ron were being held prisoner. Ginny had played Seeker in the match, but had missed the Snitch because she’d been too worried about Ron and Harry.

Harry squeezed Ginny on the shoulder. "But they’re not going to win it this year," he whispered in her ear. He felt her shiver slightly when his breath hit her skin and felt a tremendous surge of pride in having that effect on her.

The players took the field, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle to start the match. Harry’s eyes automatically began searching for the Snitch. Ravenclaw had a new Seeker this year, since Cho had left Hogwarts. The Seeker was an inexperienced third-year, and Hufflepuff was favored to win.

"I heard a rumor that there’s a Ministry scout here today somewhere," Ginny whispered.

"A Misistry scout?" Harry asked

Ginny nodded. "A representative from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They scout for potential Quidditch talent, then set up deals with the various teams. I heard that the Falmouth Falcons are looking for a new Keeper."

"Don’t all the teams have their own scouts?" Harry asked.

"Why would they do that? No, the scouts are impartial and coordinate all the deals. The Ministry pays them very well and tries to discourage them from taking any incentives from the teams. They lose their jobs if any corruption is found in a deal."

Harry scanned the crowd. "I wonder if the rumor is true."

"Maybe. I also heard that the scout would be coming to our first match against Slytherin."

"Really?"

"Are you interested, Harry?"

Harry thought about it for a long time before answering. "I dunno. Maybe someday, but not now."

Ginny smiled sadly and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips felt cold against his skin, and he noticed she was shivering.

"Are you cold, Ginny?" he asked, removing his jumper and putting it over her head. Ginny snuggled into its warmth.

"Thank you, Harry, but won’t you be cold?" she asked.

Harry was cold in just his T-shirt, but he wasn’t going to admit it to her. "Nah, I’m fine."

Ginny wrapped her arms around him. "We’ll just have to keep each other warm."

Harry smiled and settled back to watch the match. Ravenclaw’s new Seeker’s inexperience showed, and she spent her time tailing the Hufflepuff Seeker, much like Cho used to do to him. From the corner of his eye, Harry caught Hermione staring off towards the Hufflepuff stands. Following her eye, he could see Ron’s bright red hair. Ron was sitting with Hannah Abbott and a bunch of her friends. He was laughing and appeared to be having a good time.

Hermione’s cheek twitched slightly, but otherwise she remained unruffled and glued her eyes to the match. Harry knew she was bothered; she’d never paid this much attention to Quidditch even when Gryffindor played.

He kept glancing up towards the Hufflepuff stands and noticed Ron staring back towards Hermione on several occasions. Harry swore beneath his breath. Why are they both so stubborn?

Ginny distracted him from his musings by nibbling on his ear and sending delicious shock waves of pleasure down his spine. He groaned lightly as he let his head fall back, causing Ginny to giggle.

"Shh, Harry. You don’t want Hermione scolding us, in addition to Seamus and Lavender."

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was chatting away with Parvati and Dean. Seamus and Lavender had moved back over to the corner. "I’ll risk it," Harry said, grinning.

Ginny giggled and nuzzled his neck.

"Hem, hem," someone cleared his throat behind them. The Gryffindors turned to see Terry Boot standing there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

"Terry," Hermione said. "Hello."

"Hey, Hermione. I was wondering…er…it doesn’t look like Ravenclaw is going to be able to pull a win out of this one. Would you like to join me in the Library? We could start on our Arithmancy essay," Terry said.

Lavender had practically pushed Seamus off of her to sit up and watch this encounter. She and Parvati’s eyes were wide and unblinking.

"Leave?" Hermione asked blankly. "Before the match is over?"

"Well, unless our Chasers show a marked improvement, it’s mathematically impossible to win, even if we catch the Snitch. Since our new Seeker is rubbish, it’s highly unlikely, and I can make better use of my time," Terry said reasonably.

Hermione blinked for a moment, as if her brain were having trouble accepting someone else repeat the same words she’d used on many occasions. "But…don’t you want to support your team?"

"Hermione, it’s only a game," Terry said with a furrowed brow. "It’s not like my staying or leaving is going to change anything."

Hermione looked stunned. She hesitated for a moment, staring at him as if he completely baffled her, before saying, "All right, then. I’ll catch up with you later, Harry and Ginny."

The moment they’d left the stands, Lavender and Parvati closed in on Harry and Ginny. "What’s going on with those two?" Lavender asked.

"I noticed they’ve been spending a lot of time revising lately," Parvati said. "Since it was Hermione, I thought they were actually revising. Now, I’m not so certain. What’s the real story?"

Ginny shook her head. "I wish I knew." Turning towards Harry, she placed her fingertips on his chin and forced his jaw closed, erasing the gob-smacked expression from his face. He blinked at her stupidly, unable to comprehend Terry’s dismissal of Quidditch for homework.

"I thought it was just a Hermione thing," he whispered.

Ginny giggled. "Don’t worry, Harry. I don’t think Hermione knew what to make of that kind of reaction to Quidditch, either. It’s certainly not what she’s accustomed to, and I think it disappointed her."

Harry glanced up towards the Hufflepuff section and could detect the angry redness on Ron’s ears even from a distance. Great.

Hufflepuff ended up winning the match 420 to 100; Gryffindor would need a big win over Slytherin to catch them.

The next morning, Harry made his way down to breakfast alone. Ron had gone back to the Hufflepuff common room with Hannah after the match and stayed for their victory celebration. He hadn’t got back to the dormitory until well after curfew and had no intention of rising anytime soon. Not even food would entice him, so Harry had finally given up and gone on alone.

As he entered the Great Hall, he immediately knew something had happened. A strange hush had fallen over the hall as he entered, and all heads in the large room had turned to face him. His neck heated as he felt everyone’s eyes following him over to Hermione and Ginny. Ginny had a dazed, horrified expression on her face, and Hermione was buried behind her copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Harry—" Ginny whispered.

"What happened?" he asked.

Silently, Hermione handed him her paper. Her face was pale, and he could read the dread in her eyes. He grabbed the paper and sank to the bench. He felt thoroughly sick to his stomach when he read the headline:

Prophecy Reveals Our Savior –

Boy-Who-Lived is The One Who Can Defeat The Dark Lord

Chapter Twenty: All Hallow's Eve

Prophecy Reveals Our Savior –

Boy-Who-Lived is The One Who Can Defeat The Dark Lord

Harry sat frozen in his seat, staring at the Prophet’s glaring headline. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t force his brain to read any further. Harry’s heart hammered so loudly that he couldn’t hear the voices of his friends calling to him. He’d done it! Fudge had actually gone and told the Prophet about the prophecy. Damn!

Ginny gently took the paper from his shaking hands and placed in on the table. The expectant hush remained throughout the Great Hall as the other students watched Harry’s reaction carefully. He remained unmoving, dully staring straight ahead. He wanted to flee from the hall, rush back to his bed, and start the day over. He’d definitely make certain to skip breakfast if he could do it again.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Ginny whispered, taking his freezing cold hand within her warm one.

"Of course, he’s not all right," Hermione said, her voice sounding very shrill. "This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. Of course, I suppose we should have expected as much. I’m certain Professor Dumbledore must have given Minister Fudge some sort of warning, but-"

"Hermione–" Ginny said harshly, but Harry didn’t hear the rest of her words. Colin’s camera flashed in his face and momentarily blinded him. He sat there, blinking for a brief moment before a roar of voices rose in the hall, all directed towards him.

"Is it really true, Harry? Are you going to kill V- V- V- Are you going to kill him?" Colin asked breathlessly.

"Harry, this says you have to kill him or be killed by him. Did you know about this?" Parvati demanded.

"Harry-"

"Is this-"

"Harry-"

"Did you-"

"Harry-"

"What are-"

"May I have your attention please?" Professor Dumbledore called from the head table. He had risen and was trying to call order to the Great Hall. For the first time in Harry’s memory, the headmaster was having trouble gaining everyone’s attention. They were too focused on Harry and trying to gauge his reaction to the article. Pandemonium had broken loose, and the panic level was rising.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing deep inside what he had to do, regardless of how much he hated being the center of attention. Although his instincts told him to flee, the time had come for him to be a leader. Casting the Sonorus charm to raise his voice, he stood and said in a soft voice despite the power of the charm, "If you would all take your seats, I have something I’d like to say."

Everyone – Slytherins included – hurriedly took their seats, and, except for the scrape of benches along the stone floor, silence descended in the Hall. Harry could see Blaise Zabini staring at him intently, wearing an expression that Harry couldn’t read. Professor Dumbledore nodded at him and retook his own seat. Harry somehow felt that the gauntlet has been passed and a thick lead ball had materialized in his stomach.

Ginny beamed at him, and he could see the love glowing in her eyes. Absently, he noticed she was still wearing the jumper he’d put on her at the Quidditch match the previous afternoon. Something about that small gesture gave him the strength he needed to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Harry scanned the room and all the expectant faces. Some were staring back at him with horrified expressions, some were intrigued, and still others were hostile. Locking his eyes on Neville, he began. "Obviously, you’ve seen the article in the Prophet. Don’t believe everything you read, especially if it comes from the Daily Prophet."

Questions and murmurs filled the Great Hall before quickly silencing as Harry continued. "The prophecy may state that only I can kill Voldemort, but it is still up to you to save yourselves." The hall erupted in shrieks and hisses as those people who were not used to hearing Harry say the name voiced their dismay. Harry ignored them. "As those of you who are members of the DA have heard me say many times – don’t call him You-Know-Who. It only increases his power over you. He wants you to be afraid of him; he thrives on it."

"Easy for you to say," someone called out, but Harry wasn’t certain whom. He suspected it came from the Slytherin table. Most of the Slytherins were glaring at Harry, despite the fact that they, too, had all flinched when he used Voldemort’s name.

"No. It’s not easy for me to say, and I don’t take anything about this situation lightly. But I also know that he is the threat, not what he calls himself. Voldemort isn’t even his real name; he made it up to sound intimidating. Don’t let him get away with it. This is not a game; it’s a life and death struggle that we are all involved in. Nothing has changed because you know now that one day I’ll have to face him. Just because that’s the case, it doesn’t mean I’ll necessarily be there if he comes after you, or your family, or wants someone in your family to join him.

"This is where you all must make your own choice. You can do the easy thing by trying to hide and hope that I’ll be able to defeat him before he comes for you, or you can stand and fight for what is right, for what you believe in. The more of us who stand together and refuse to be cowed, the more difficult his task is. He’ll try to divide us, because he knows we’re stronger if we keep our faith and trust in each other. He cannot understand that. I’ll be ready for him when the time comes, and I promise you that I’ll do my best. What I need from you is for you to learn to protect yourselves."

Harry climbed down from the bench and mumbled, "Quietus." His hands were trembling violently, and he wanted to escape the hall before he had to answer any direct questions. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

The hall remained silent for a moment before Justin Finch Fletchley slowly brought his hands together in a clap that reverberated around the hall. Several other members of the DA joined him, and, soon, nearly the entire hall was applauding.

Harry was stunned and nodded briefly in acknowledgement with a dazed expression on his face. Taking Ginny’s hand firmly in his own, he led her out of the Great Hall with all the dignity he could muster. Hermione and Neville followed quickly behind as he raced up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower.

They climbed through the portrait hole and collapsed on chairs in the empty common room.

"Well done, Harry," Hermione said, sniffling. Her eyes were suspiciously red.

"So much for keeping the prophecy out of the papers," Neville said. His face formed into a frown before adding, "I’ll ask Luna if her dad was also given the story."

Clomp, clomp.

They all turned to see Ron coming down the stairs, bleary-eyed and with sleep-tousled hair. He stopped short when he noticed everyone staring at him and the paleness of their faces. "What? What did I miss?"

Harry spent the next several days trying to ignore the intense stares and whispers that accompanied him whenever he had to leave the common room. Even the Gryffindors were unable to tear their gazes away from him, and the pressure he was feeling was intense. They were all waiting, wondering what he was going to do, and it was driving him mad. He couldn’t walk down the corridor without being bombarded with questions about what he was going to do and when it would happen. His friends tried to shield him from as much of it as they could, but even they were being hounded with questions. Hagrid had to put Fluffy on guard duty at the Hogwarts gate to discourage some overly eager reporters, desperate for an interview with Harry or anyone even remotely connected to him.

The letters had begun arriving by owl post the morning after the article appeared. Harry was bombarded with letters from all over Britain, from witches and wizards demanding to know what he was going to do and what was taking him so long. One of the first letters he had read had the audacity to ask him if he knew how many good wizards had already died while waiting for him to take the matter in hand. Noticing his distress, Professor McGonagall began having all mail delivered to a central location for screening by the house-elves. Harry felt badly for doing this to everyone; it reminded him a little too much of Dolores Umbridge’s reign. There was no way to do it strictly for mail sent to him, so Professor McGonagall said she really didn’t have a choice. The amount of owls was disruptive. He was further dismayed to learn that all his mail was going through rigorous safety precautions before it was delivered to him. Professor McGonagall was afraid some of the Death Eaters might try to get to Harry in order to improve their own standing within Voldemort’s circle. Harry was more concerned about some poor house elf getting hexed repeatedly every time he opened one of Harry’s letters.

He had his training session with Abe on Wednesday of that week, and he was anxious for it. He needed to work out some of his aggression. The running alone wasn’t doing it. When he arrived at the Room of Requirement, Abe was already there as usual. Instead of robes, he wore a T-shirt emblazoned with a faded Grateful Dead insignia and tattered blue jeans.

"Good afternoon, lad. I understand it’s been quite an eventful week thus far for you, eh?" he asked, though it was more a statement than a question.

Harry smiled wearily. "Yeah. You could say that."

"I had to battle my way through a crowd of reporters at the front gate, even hexed a few of them. Cordelia warned me about it – and that blasted three-headed dog, too – but I hadn’t believed her."

Harry grinned. "Hagrid calls it Fluffy."

"Fluffy? Hagrid always was a bit daft when it came to animals, the big lout," Abe chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, are we going to get to work? I thought we’d do some spellwork today and see how fast you can bring my shield down."

It suddenly occurred to Harry that although Abe called everyone some kind of nickname, he always used Cordelia’s full name. He wanted to ask why, but felt it was just too personal a question, and he wasn’t comfortable enough to ask it. Thinking about Cordelia, he’d bet she was the one who forbade him using any other name. Harry sniggered to himself over the image of Cordelia telling Abe exactly what was what and how things were going to be.

"Okay," Harry said, removing his robe and loosening the collar of his school shirt. They worked steadily for a while, Harry proving himself very adept at breaching Abe’s shield. He was aware of the door opening and Percy entering at one point, but he and Abe ignored him and continued their practice. Percy scribbled in his notebook and remained silent.

As they continued to spar, Percy began tapping his quill on his page repeatedly. When neither of them acknowledged his presence, he finally interrupted. "Excuse me?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Abe, who was sweating profusely, looked over at him. "What can we do for you, Mr. Weasley? Or perhaps you’d like to join our demonstration?"

Percy raised his chin. "This is all well and good, and Harry would obviously do well in a duel against any opponent. However, the prophecy that the rest of the wizarding world is now discussing doesn’t say that he must duel the Dark Lord, it says ‘Either must DIE at the hand of the other’."

"I’m well aware of what the prophecy says," Abe snapped. "And thanks to the shortsightedness of your ever-so-stupid boss-"

"I will not tolerate-"

"You’ll listen when I’m speaking, boy! I have no patience for your political games or any of your administrative policies. I’m trying to ensure Harry’s survival, which does directly effect the rest of us," Abe said, glowering at Percy.

Percy looked affronted, and his ears turned scarlet with the famous Weasley blush. "I’ve been observing this training for several weeks, and I’ve yet to see you show him how to kill. When will he be taught to use Avada Kedavra? What do you plan on using for victims? I’m certain the gamekeeper could supply you with a number of forest animals-"

"I’m not going to practice killing anything," Harry spluttered, feeling sick. An image from his first year of Voldemort drinking the blood of a dead unicorn sprang to his mind.

"Of course, you are," Percy snapped. "You’re going to kill the Dark Lord, aren’t you? You have to make certain you can perform the Killing Curse."

Harry’s heart pounded, nausea rising in his stomach. Killing Voldemort was one thing, and he’d grudgingly come to accept that it was what he had to do, but he didn’t want to practice killing in cold blood. And he wanted nothing to do with Avada Kedavra. Those words had had enough of an impact on his life already.

He knew Percy was wrong. He knew that the Killing Curse wasn’t what he was going to try to use to defeat Voldemort, but the thought of what his training would be like under the Ministry made Harry shudder. Jonathan had told him that he wouldn’t be able to perform the Killing Curse, that he didn’t hate enough to make the spell work. He wondered what Percy would say if he knew that.

"That’s enough," Abe snarled. "Before you go around spouting off about the Killing Curse and things you know nothing about, pay attention to whom you’re speaking. Show some respect."

Harry had never seen Abe so livid, and it seemed out of place on the wizard that he’d come to know and respect.

Percy, who had never fancied being reprimanded, bristled under Abe’s heated gaze. Still, his eyes flickered upwards to Harry’s scar, and bright red patches appeared on his cheeks. "It is a valid question," Percy insisted. "Or do you have some other method of killing You-Know-Who?" Percy’s eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"Harry cannot be taught the Killing Curse until he’s strong enough to use it. Do you know anything about Avada Kedavra, Mr. Weasley? Do you understand why it is an Unforgivable? There needs to be intent behind it, not only the desire to kill, but also a pleasure in doing it. The user has to have enough hate to enjoy the killing. That is not something that can be taught…overnight," Abe said quietly. "I am teaching Harry to duel, to withstand a barrage of curses and maintain the stamina to continue against a powerful opponent. As Harry gains proficiency and gets stronger, we’ll begin practicing fatal destruction."

Harry knitted his brow; he knew Abe was lying to Percy, but he was very convincing. From what Jonathan had told him, he’d never be capable of the Killing Curse. Of course, Percy didn’t know about the Curse of the Damned – and judging from the prophecy’s appearance in the Daily Prophet – he could never learn about it. But they were going to have to give the Ministry something.

Percy drew himself up stiffly and collected his things. "I’ll report my findings to the Minister. He’ll be in touch. It seems to me, Mr. Dumbledore, that time is not on our side, and this training needs to be hurried along. I’m certain the Ministry can supply some test subjects if the gamekeeper here at Hogwarts in unable to supply you. Good day."

Harry waited for the door to close behind Percy before turning, wide-eyed, towards Abe.

"Don’t fret, Harry. He has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. That’s the problem with all these stuffed shirts that they have working at the Ministry these days," Abe said with disgust.

"Is he right, though? Should I at least attempt to learn…it?" Harry asked.

Abe shook his head. "It would be pointless. I can tell you for a fact that you’d never be able to do it. Do you ever wonder why the Aurors don’t use the Killing Curse? Why in a fierce battle they simply stun the Death Eaters who are trying to kill them? Avada Kedavra is dark magic. It involves hate, nothing else. It can’t be used in defense of someone, or in righteousness anger, wanting to stop future crimes. In order to use it, the intent has to be to kill for the sake of killing. The actual act of taking a person’s life has to bring pleasure. That is why it is an Unforgiveable.

"There are some Hitwizards who are capable of it. Most of the Hitwizards are only one step above the Dark Wizards they hunt. That is only one of the reasons Al didn’t want the Ministry to have anything to do with your training. The fact that Percy even suggested trying to teach you is because he doesn’t understand. The fact you know that you need to kill Voldemort isn’t enough.

"I think we need to talk to Al, however," Abe said, leading Harry out of the Room of Requirement and towards Professor Dumbledore’s office. "We’re going to have to dupe the Ministry a bit, but we cannot let that dunderhead know the truth. Too much is at stake. Damn, I wish Al would get that puffed-up peacock out of office already."

Later that evening, when Harry wearily climbed the stairs up to his dormitory, he felt exhausted. It was dinnertime, so the common room was empty, and Harry didn’t feel much like eating, anyway. Professor Dumbledore had been resigned to hearing about Percy’s feelings, almost like he’d been expecting it.

He also informed Harry that several of the local merchants in Hogsmeade had closed their shops indefinitely. They felt Hogsmeade was too close to Hogwarts, which was bound to be Voldemort’s main target. They were demanding that Harry get on with it before they lost their businesses. Professor Dumbledore stressed to Harry that this wasn’t his concern. People would make their own choices; he simply had to focus on his training. It would do no one any good to rush in before he was ready. Harry knew the words were true, but he couldn’t help but feel that they sounded so hollow.

When Harry entered the dormitory, he stopped short, staring blankly at the wall above his nightstand. Hanging there in a simple wooden frame was the sketch of his mother. He’d put it in his trunk for safekeeping, but hadn’t got around to framing it. There was a note on his pillow.

Harry,

Honestly, with the way you procrastinate I didn’t think this would ever get done. It looks nice, doesn’t it? Mum sent me the frame. It’s only wood, but you can always get a nice one the next Hogsmeade weekend.

Ginny

Harry grinned. She always managed to bring a bright spot to his day. The picture did look nice. He supposed the others might think it was a funny to have a picture of his mum by his bed, but he really didn’t have any place else to hang it. He wasn’t even certain where he lived besides Hogwarts at the moment, so they’d have to get used to it.

He had a Charms essay due tomorrow and needed to go to the library to do it. He grabbed his book bag and took a long way around so he wouldn’t have to pass the Great Hall. He ran into Ginny, Neville and Luna in the corridor. Ginny’s eyes were twinkling, and he knew she was anxious to hear how he liked the picture. Neville looked worried, however, and Luna seemed downright annoyed. It was hard to tell with Luna, though, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing her really annoyed with anyone before – even when her housemates stole her things.

"Hi," Harry said uncertainly. "All right?"

Ginny grabbed his hand. "Harry, there you are. We’ve been wondering what kept you. Did something happen during your training?"

"Yeah," Harry said glancing at the rapidly filling corridor. "Come on inside the library, and I’ll fill you in."

When they had sat at a table in the corner, Harry proceeded to fill them in on his training session and Percy’s comments. Ginny was livid, and Harry suspected that if Percy had still been in the castle, he would gain some first-hand knowledge of Ginny’s Bat Bogey Hex.

"Never mind Percy; he’s just Fudge’s lackey. We have to make certain that Fudge doesn’t hear anything about the Curse of the Damned, so we’re going to have to fool him into thinking I’m learning Avada Kedavra," Harry said. He couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through him, even just saying those words. Images of what had happened on Privet Drive fought to overwhelm him, and he struggled to hold them back. Ginny took his hand in hers under the table, and he felt the calmness seep into his consciousness.

"Why not learn it, anyway?" asked Luna dreamily. "Knowing two ways of killing him couldn’t be a bad thing."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose, but I don’t fancy practicing on animals in the forest, either. Besides, Abe said that I wouldn’t be able to perform the Killing Curse because I don’t want to kill for the sake of killing, and that’s the only way to make it work. With the Curse of the Damned, I need to focus on my mental connection, since it will be more a battle of wills. Professor Dumbledore wants me to practice more Legilimency, and I’m working on the wandless thought magic with Abe on the weekends."

"How do you practice?" Neville asked.

"Mostly by picking up on thoughts and feelings of those around me. Don’t worry, Neville; I’m not looking into your head." Harry laughed at his friend’s worried expression.

Luna, too, seemed perplexed, although it was hard to tell with Luna. "Can’t he just see this in your head, like he did before?" Luna asked. "He was using some very sophisticated mind bending techniques, and I suspect he may be in contact with Triple-Horned Fledshacks. Certainly they have ways to monitor your brain waves through one of their horns."

"Right," Harry said, ignoring her last statement. "My Occlumency shield blocks out virtually all the images now." He wished he could say the same for the pain. Although the Occlumency closed his mind from seeing the horrible visions, his scar continued to burn and sear painfully whenever Voldemort’s emotions were running high.

"So, what is Professor Dumbledore going to do?" Ginny asked.

"I dunno yet. He’s meeting with the Order tonight to discuss it and how to head off the Ministry. We need to keep what we’re really doing quiet, or we’ll see that all in the Prophet as well," Harry said bitterly.

Luna pressed her lips together, and Neville glanced at her warily.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Why didn’t you let my father print the story about the prophecy?" Luna asked airily, though her gaze was intent.

Harry blinked. "What?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I suppose everything happens for a reason, but he was the one who printed the truth about what happened to you, when no one else believed you. He always prints the truth that others don’t want to believe. I would think you owed it to him to him to give him first choice on the follow-up. The same thing happened when he searched for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Another paper in Indonesia stole his scoop."

"I- But- I never gave anyone an interview," Harry spluttered.

"Luna, Harry never wanted that prophecy known, you know that," Ginny said.

"I don’t know why anyone reads the nonsense in that Daily Prophet rag when there are real problems that the Quibbler regularly points out," Luna said, putting her nose in the air and walking away from all of them. Harry and Ginny stood there with their mouths hanging open. Neville shrugged uncomfortably.

"Sorry about that, Harry. She’s been upset since the day the article was published," Neville explained, running after Luna.

Harry shook his head. "Ron always says she’s mental."

Ginny sniggered. "Don’t worry about her now; she’s usually off on some tangent. She’s probably just worried about her dad. I don’t think she and Neville are getting on that well, either; she baffles him so. You’ve got enough on your plate right now, Harry; you can’t add any more."

Harry nodded, knowing she was right. "Thanks for the picture, Ginny. It looks great."

"Do you think so? I think it would look better in a gold frame, but…"

"No, it’s perfect. Thank you," he said, squeezing her hand.

"There you are," Ron said, dropping his books on the table. "Where’ve you been all day, mate? You didn’t even show up at dinner."

Ginny sighed. "Hello, Ron, happy to see you, as well."

"What? Oh, hi, Ginny."

"Listen, I’m going to leave you two now. I’ve got a session with Professor McGonagall," Ginny said.

"How’s that going?" Harry asked looking up at her

"It’s going fine," she said, frowning. "I’ll see you in the common room before bed."

Harry watched her walk out of the library with a furrowed brow.

"Don’t worry, mate, she’ll eventually realize she’s in over her head," Ron said.

Harry turned startled eyes on Ron. "Huh?"

Ron shrugged. "She’s desperate to become an Animagus, because she thinks it’ll prove something. Ginny always tends to bite off more than she can chew, but if you call her on it, it just makes her more determined."

Harry was stunned. "I…I didn’t know she told you about the Animagus training."

Ron snorted. "Ginny? She could never keep something like that a secret from me for long; she talks too much. She’s just hacked, because she’s not having any luck, and she doesn’t want to tell you."

"Me? Why? I haven’t been pressuring her. I’d rather she stay well out of it."

"Well, none of us are going to do that, Harry," Ron snarled, slamming his Charms book on the table.

Harry looked up, startled. Ron had been keeping his temper in check recently, so he hadn’t been ready for this outburst.

"Damn it, Harry. We’re all doing extra training so we can be there with you when the time comes. We need to be able to help, and you’re not going to stop any of us," Ron said, his eyes blazing. "They kept me locked in that room like it was a cage. Narcissa set up a nice little charm that let me hear sounds from your cell at times…she thought it was funny. She didn’t let me hear enough to know what was going on, but I could hear you screaming, and there was absolutely nothing I could do. She used to taunt me about it. I never want to feel that powerless again."

Harry’s eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open, gaping at Ron. "I…I…I didn’t know that," he whispered.

Ron looked away from Harry’s face and stared intently at a spot on the table, idly poking it with his finger. "I made a promise to myself in that room, Harry, that I was going to help you, no matter what, and that hasn’t changed. We all need to feel like we can do something, or else we feel as helpless as Narcissa Malfoy made me."

Harry swallowed painfully, averting his own eyes. He’d told Ginny some of what had happened to him during his captivity, and it helped. It seemed that Ron needed that, as well. "I do need your help, mate. This spell…this curse…it’s going to require all my physical and mental strength to pull it off. The Priori Incantatum lifted both Voldemort and me into some kind of globe, so the Death Eaters couldn’t touch me. I don’t know if this curse will work the same way, so I’ll need you lot to watch my back while we’re battling for control. I can’t do both."

"And we’ll do it. You just keep your eye on the king, and we’ll worry about the pawns," Ron said.

Harry cringed, but didn’t know what else to say. They worked on their Charms essays for the next hour in silence. Ron glanced repeatedly over at another table where Hermione sat working with Terry Boot. Harry hadn’t even realized she was there, but obviously Ron had noticed her right away. Judging by the stack of books on her table, she’d been there for quite some time.

"So," Harry said, hoping he sounded casual. "How are things going with you and Hannah?"

Ron shrugged. "She’s nice. She doesn’t push me at all or care if I skive off class or do my homework. She doesn’t expect anything, really." Ron glanced over at Hermione again, and Harry had the distinct impression that there was more he wanted to say.

"It’s a bit weird, actually. She lets me make all the decisions on what we’re going to do. Kind of disconcerting."

Harry chuckled. "Not exactly what you’re used to?"

Ron sighed. "No. But I need to find out, Harry. I need…Hermione was all I wanted, all I thought about for even longer than I realized. Everything I did revolved around her. Hermione’s smart…she’s brilliant, really, but she likes to be the smartest one. She didn’t even consider the fact that she could have been wrong about Trent; she just brushed me off as if what I was saying was the foolish ramblings of a silly little boy. I know she feels bad now; I know that inside she knows she was wrong, but she hasn’t once said that to me. Not once has she outright said I was right, and that hurts.

"Hannah…I dunno…she doesn’t make my heart beat faster, the way Hermione does, but she listens to what I’m saying. She doesn’t ignore everything I say, because she assumes I’m going to screw it up. But…sometimes I wish she would challenge me a little…you know? She doesn’t make me want to be better, like Hermione always does.

"I don’t know what I’m saying. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know," Ron said, turning back to his homework. "She does have a nice rack."

Startled, Harry looked up from his homework and smirked. Ron hadn’t even looked up when he’d said that last bit.

"Not that Hermione didn’t. In fact, her set-"

"All right," Harry laughed. "I don’t want to know about Hermione’s anything."

Ron grinned and continued with his homework.

Harry’s thoughts were jumbled, and he wished he could talk to Ginny or Remus to help sort them out. What Ron said about Hermione was true – she did like to be right and always assumed she was. Of course, nine times out of ten she was right, but he could see how Ron felt dismissed by that sometimes. Harry glanced over at Hermione’s table. Terry was talking animatedly about something, but Harry could see Hermione’s eyes glazing and discreetly looking over at Ron on several occasions.

"Potter." A smooth voice startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Blaise Zabini looking at him with an amused grin. "Didn’t mean to startle you. Hufflepuff was a big winner in the last game. That means the winner of our game is going to have to do the same if we have any hope of winning the cup."

Harry looked into Zabini’s eyes – they were challenging, but not malicious. "That won’t be a problem," Harry said confidently.

"Who’s your new Seeker?" Ron asked suddenly.

Zabini’s grin widened. "That would be me."

"You," Ron spluttered. "You weren’t even on the reserve team."

"You’ll find I’m a much better Seeker than Malfoy ever was. If his father hadn’t bought his way onto the team, the spot would’ve been mine. I wasn’t about to play back up to someone who didn’t even earn the position on his own."

"Well, then, I suppose you’ll have to back up your words in the air," Harry replied.

"I suppose so. See you around, Potter, Weasley."

The Gryffindor/Slytherin match was scheduled for Halloween. Harry awoke that morning feeling sluggish and disoriented. He hadn’t taken a sleep potion the night before, even though he could have, because he found it sometimes left him drowsy the next day. He wanted to be wide-awake and alert for the match against Slytherin. Unfortunately, his dreams had once again refused to cooperate. He’d been in the Chamber again, and he shuddered as he suppressed the images.

He pulled the curtains back and rolled out of bed, surprised to find Ron awake and sitting on his bed staring at Harry intently.

"What?" Harry asked in alarm; it was unusual that Ron was awake before him.

"You dreamed about Ginny last night," Ron said.

Harry’s cheeks flushed. He had dreamed of Ginny in the Chamber, but he’d also had more pleasant dreams after he’d managed to fall back to sleep. He hoped Ron hadn’t overheard one of those kinds of dreams.

"Er…," he spluttered.

"She was in the Chamber…only she was him," Ron said, completely oblivious to Harry’s discomfort.

Oh, the first dream. "Wait a minute. How did-"

"I saw it again, Harry. You must have been using your Legilimency again to share images while you were dreaming," Ron said with a worried expression. "It wasn’t a memory, because Ginny wasn’t a little kid."

"No," Harry said, running his hand through his hair. "It’s just a dream; I’ve already told Dumbledore about it."

"Yeah, well, it’s the first time I’ve had it," Ron said.

"Why are you the one who keeps picking up on this stuff?" Harry asked, talking more to himself than to Ron.

"Beats me. I’d just as soon I didn’t. You have some nasty dreams, mate."

"Come on, we’re supposed to meet the team for breakfast, and we’re going to be late."

Harry and Ron hurried downstairs, through the common room, and towards the Great Hall. The castle was heavily decorated for Halloween with live bats flying in the rafters and Jack-o-lanterns in every corner. When they burst into the Great Hall, they were met with stares and giggles once again. A dreadful feeling of deja vu washed over Harry.

Keeping his head down, he quickly walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down across from Ginny and Hermione.

"What now?" he asked, sighing.

"Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour," purred Parvati, who was sitting to Harry’s right. She looked at him in a distinctly predatory way that made Harry instantly wary.

"Parvati, look at how red you made his cheeks turn. You know Harry hates all the attention," Lavender said, demurely lowering her lashes.

Harry’s eyes instantly sought out Ginny and watched as she glared daggers at the older two girls.

"Look at this," Hermione said, pushing a copy of Witch Weekly towards him. She looked exasperated by Parvati and Lavender, but Harry could tell by the tone of her voice that she was anxious about something.

He glanced at the cover and blinked stupidly at the picture of himself that was covering the entire front page. It took a moment to register before he noticed the smaller inset pictures of Ginny, Hermione, Cho, and Luna beneath his own. Shaking his head, he opened it to find the article and read with a growing sense of dread.

Harry Potter: Savior of the Wizarding World?

by Rita Skeeter

Well, ladies, the cat is out of the bag now. Harry Potter, the young Boy-Who-Lived who is currently Head Boy during his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is destined to be our champion once again. The revelation of a prophecy given some time before young Harry’s birth names him as the one destined to defeat the Dark Lord. But is he stable enough to do the job?

Reportedly, at the tender age of 17 and just recently gaining adult status, Harry has already faced the Dark Lord on a number of occasions and come out on top every time. During his fifth year at Hogwarts, he formed an illegal group in order to aid in the fight against You-Know-Who while others sought to undermine him. Harry regularly uses the Dark Lord’s name and encourages others to do so, as well, even assigning housepoints to those who comply.

But is this wise? Is Harry Potter, in his zeal to destroy the wizard responsible for the death of his parents, putting the lives of other students at risk? Are all the stories of his brushes with the Dark Lord true or just the ravings of a typical teenage boy tooting his own horn? The prophecy says he’s the only one who can save us. Can we really trust that he’s up to the job? Or, more disturbingly, is it possible that Mr. Potter hasn’t really escaped at all but instead has some sort of a deal in place with the Dark Lord in order to fool us all?

Perhaps a look at the women in his life, those closest to him, might offer a clearer glimpse into our reclusive hero. What every witch wants to know is who is keeping this supposed savior warm at night? Certainly, after the defeat of the Dark Lord, if Potter’s still alive, he’ll have his pick of any witch in the wizarding world. Even now, this reporter has talked to several that would take on the job before the prophecy is fulfilled.

His first girlfriend, Herminny Granger, is reportedly no longer seeing him, although the two remain extremely close. This reporter can confirm the extraordinary lengths to which Ms. Granger went on several occasions to protect Mr. Potter’s privacy. One has to wonder what secrets these two are so adamantly keeping.

It has also been confirmed that Mr. Potter dated Cho Chang, an extremely attractive former student who was also reported to have dated the late Cedric Diggory. As you recall, Mr. Diggory was the student viciously killed during the Dark Lord’s rebirth. Mr. Potter and Ms. Chang began seeing each other shortly after that event. According to Ms. Chang, "Harry never wanted to talk about Cedric; we used to row about it, actually. Then he went off and gave that interview, talking about his own part in that whole ordeal…it was like Cedric didn’t matter."

Also reported among his closest friends is Ms. Lucy Lovegood. Mr. Potter’s first published account of what happened during the rebirth in that graveyard, a story written with unerring accuracy by yours truly, appeared in the Quibbler. Ms. Lovegood’s father runs that magazine, which usually caters to a more eclectic crowd. One has to wonder what methods Ms. Lovegood used to convince Mr. Potter to share his story in her father’s lesser known publication before turning to a larger, more respected one. Since the follow-up appeared in the Quibbler’s chief competition, one has to wonder about the apparent cause of the couple’s falling-out.

The final name on the short list of candidates for Mr. Potter’s affection is Ms. Virginia Weasley. Reportedly, Harry and Ms. Weasley have been "close" friends for some time. It is reported that Mr. Potter has inherited a tidy sum from his parents and also stands to inherit a great deal of wealth after the prophecy’s fulfillment. Compliments to Ms. Weasley on her choice in men – Mr. Potter is certainly a step up the social ladder from her humble beginnings. In fact, this reporter has learned that Mr. Potter went on holiday with the entire Weasley family after the deaths of his guardians. One has to wonder if the Weasleys haven’t been grooming their only daughter for this role all along. It has been pointed out that they’ve welcomed Mr. Potter into their family from a very tender age.

There you have the facts, ladies. Is latching on to Mr. Potter now a golden opportunity to be at the front and center of the wizarding world’s reorganization, or merely a ticket to heartache? If he can’t even keep a girlfriend now, how can he be expected to defeat a Dark Lord? You decide – is he up for the job?

Harry felt a tight knot in his stomach. She can’t be serious. The questions about whether or not he could actually defeat Voldemort were valid, but who in Merlin’s name would care about who he was dating? He looked up to see the disgruntled looks on both Hermione’s and Ginny’s faces. Damn!

"Oh, that’s brilliant," said Ron, who had been reading the article over Harry’s shoulder. "More reasons for women to throw themselves at your feet."

Harry glared at Ron. "It isn’t funny," he snapped.

"It certainly is, mate. You don’t know what to do with the women you’ve got already," Ron said, grinning.

"That…that…," Hermione spluttered.

"Witch," Neville supplied, sitting down next to her. He looked flustered and anxious. "I know. I’ve just seen Luna, and she’s not happy. Something about the Quibbler not catering to an eclectic clientele but serious seekers of truth and justice. Something like that."

"Ooh," Hermione said, steaming. "I thought when she didn’t reappear right away last year we’d seen the end of her. I can’t believe the insinuations that woman is making."

"Virginia?" Ginny ground out through clenched teeth. "When have I ever been called Virginia? She makes it sound like I’m a hanger-on for your fame and fortune."

Harry rubbed his temple; his head was pounding, and he felt a vice-like grip tightening it with every comment. Halloween just never went his way. As he replayed the words of the article in his mind, one phrase stuck out glaringly – has some sort of a deal in place with the Dark Lord in order to fool us all. Exactly what did she mean by that?

Harry’s blood began to boil. "Does she honestly think I’m collaborating with…that….that…that I would ever…he wants to kill me! I would never-"

"We all know that, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "Rita Skeeter is a nasty piece of work and very vindictive. Obviously, she’s still bitter towards us."

"Hey, Potter," Blaise Zabini said loudly as he walked past. "Do you think you’ll be able to tear yourself away from your harem in time to compete in today’s match? You could always call a forfeit if you’re otherwise…engaged," he said, looking Ginny up and down leeringly.

"Watch it," Harry growled, his hand clenching around his wand as he stood up to block Ginny from the Slytherin’s view.

Zabini took a step back, chuckling. "No wonder Malfoy always got under your skin. You’re easy, Potter."

Ginny stood up and slammed her napkin back onto the table. "I’m heading over the locker rooms; I’ll see you there."

Harry began to follow, but she held up her hand. "No, you can go with Ron. I don’t want anyone to think I’m sniffing after your Firebolt as we walk over," she said before turning and storming out of the Great Hall.

"Ginny," Harry called, stunned and more than a little hurt.

"Let her cool down, Harry," Hermione said, patting his arm. "She’s not really angry with you, just angry in general."

Harry sat back down and looked at Hermione uncertainly. She nodded at him with an expression full of pity that irritated him to no end. He glanced over at Ron and realized his friend had lost his amused expression and was re-reading the article with a frown.

"All right, Ron?" he asked.

"It makes it sound like my whole family is after you for your money," Ron said bitterly. "We’ve been doing all right since Sirius left us an inheritance."

Harry blinked and looked away.

"Wait a minute," Ron said, his ears turning red. "It was Sirius, right? You didn’t have anything to do with it."

"It’s from Sirius’s estate," Harry said quietly.

"But who left it to us – Sirius or you?" Ron demanded.

Harry stared determinedly at his uneaten breakfast. "What’s the difference? It all came from Sirius."

"Oh, that’s just brilliant," Ron said, pushing away from the table and storming out after Ginny. "Thanks a lot, mate."

Harry shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t move until he felt Hermione’s hand on his arm. "I didn’t know you had done that."

"It was a long time ago," Harry said, swallowing against the painful lump in his throat. "After Sirius’s will was read. I didn’t want any of it. I have to get to the locker room." He pushed away from the table and ignored Lavender and Parvati’s good luck wishes. He made the long walk across the Hogwarts grounds alone.

Harry dressed for the game in silence. The tension in the Gryffindor Quidditch locker room was high and felt by all. Harry thought it was a bad omen for their game. He could see Nate Daniels standing to the side of the room slightly apart from everyone else and looking painfully nervous. He remembered how frightened he’d been the day of his first game, and how Fred and George had made him feel worse. He decided to take pity on the new young Chaser.

"Hi, Nate," he said, strolling up to the boy. "Nervous?"

Nate’s dark eyes opened wide. He nodded mutely.

"Don’t be; you’ll be fine. Just follow Ginny and Holly, watch for their signals, and you’ll be all right," Harry said, smiling. "Oh, and if you see a Bludger coming at you, duck."

"Good advice, Harry," Ginny said sarcastically. "You should also tell him he shouldn’t try to catch it."

Harry spun around and looked at her uncertainly. "Yeah," he finally said, rubbing his wrist. "That hurts."

Ginny bit her lip and kicked at the ground. "I’m sorry I shouted at you," she mumbled, still not looking up.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, his lips twitching.

"I’m sorry I shouted at you," Ginny repeated through gritted teeth.

Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "I’m sorry, too. Rita is completely out of line. I need to warn you, though…if I know Rita, it’s probably just the start."

Ginny took a deep breath. "It’s not fair. She takes just enough of the truth to make all her lies believable. Journalism should be about the facts, not opinions and innuendo."

Harry shrugged.

Ginny frowned at him. "You’ve had to deal with all of this before. It might take me a bit to get used to it, but I will. I’m not going to let a woman who turns herself into a bug get to me."

Harry gaped at her, "What- How- When-"

"Hermione told me," she said.

"I’m sorry she upset you."

"Not your fault," Ginny said, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her gaze locked with his, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away.

Nate cleared his throat. "Okay, then. I suppose I’ll see you out there."

Neither Harry nor Ginny responded as Harry lowered his lips to hers. His spine tingled when she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, and he pressed her body close to his. It was a deep kiss, full of promise, and Harry felt his knees shaking with the intensity. They broke apart a few moments later, gasping for breath. Maybe this game wasn’t as doomed as he thought. Harry felt like he could fly without the aid of the Firebolt at that moment.

Ron appeared and called the team together. He refused to meet Harry’s eyes as he began speaking. "Okay, this is it. This is my last year at Hogwarts, and I want that Quidditch Cup. It’s Slytherin. They play dirty, so keep your eyes open. Nate, stick close to Ginny and Holly. All you have to do is follow their lead. The rest of you know what to do. Go out there and kick some arse."

Harry let Ginny go outside with the rest of the team, but he hung back waiting for Ron.

"I don’t want to talk about it now, Harry," Ron said, slamming his locker shut with his broom. "Let’s get out there and win this game, and we’ll deal with it later. Besides, if you catch the Snitch after we have enough points to catch Hufflepuff, it just might put you back on my good side."

Harry fought a grin. "I’ll see what I can do."

"You do that," Ron said, as the two entered the pitch.

When Harry mounted his broom, it finally dawned on him how cold it was. Much too cold for October, he thought. The sky was gray, and there was moisture in the air. He hoped it wouldn’t rain. As much as he loved Quidditch, it was no fun to play in the rain, particularly a cold rain. He saw Blaise Zabini opposite him, wearing that amused expression he always wore and Harry found so irritating. He really wanted to beat him to the Snitch.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and they were off. Harry zoomed high into the air and made a wide circle above the pitch as fast as he could. The speed was exhilarating, and he breathed in deeply while his eyes scanned for the Snitch. He could see Ginny’s red hair blowing behind her as she raced toward the hoops to make the first score.

"And it’s a 10-0 lead for Gryffindor," droned Luke Donovan’s voice. Harry had hoped there would be a new commentator this year. "Gryffindor has a relatively new Chaser line-up. Both Ginny Weasley and Holy Proctor joined the team last year, while Nate Daniels is the newest member, playing in his first game."

Harry continued his search while also trying to pay attention to the scoring. Gryffindor was ahead, but not by much. While the Gryffindor Chasers were good, the Slytherin Beaters were outstanding. Ginny, Holly and Nate spent more time dodging the Bludgers than chasing the Quaffle. Both girls were trying to cover the less experienced Nate, and it was making scoring difficult. Nate wasn’t bad; he was quick in his maneuvers and even managed a few scores, but he looked like a scared rabbit, and the Slytherins could see it. Of course, they went right for him; Harry would have done the same thing, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed by it.

He decided that if he saw the Snitch, he was just going to go for it immediately. There was no way that this game was going to be a runaway. He just hoped he saw it before Zabini did. They’d been playing for nearly two hours when Harry realized there were snowflakes in the air. Halloween was entirely too early for snow, but here it was.

As the wind picked up, the snow began blowing sideways, making it nearly impossible to see. The cold stung Harry’s face, and his fingers and toes were feeling rather numb. He had to quickly get out of the way of Holly Proctor as she sped by him with the Quaffle. One of the Slytherins Beaters followed her, but, realizing he had no hope of catching her, instead launched the Bludger towards Harry.

Harry didn’t see it coming until it was nearly on top of him. He dodged sharply to the side and scraped his arm along some of the bleachers. He felt the fabric on his Quidditch uniform tear as the metal scraped his arm. His breath hissed as the cold air made contact with his now exposed and bleeding flesh. Despite the scratch, he managed to straighten his broom before he crashed and flew back towards the center of the pitch.

He could hear the relieved sighs from the Gryffindor stands and the groans and catcalls from the Slytherins. As he turned to glare at the Slytherin side of the stands, he saw it – a brief glimmer of gold against the snow that was now lightly covering the ground. The snow wasn’t really accumulating; it was just enough to block the lines on the pitch and become a nuisance.

Zabini saw the Snitch at the same moment as Harry, and the two of them made a mad dash for it. They were equidistant from it and both riding Firebolts. Harry felt the wind whipping past his face as he rushed toward the prize. No way was Zabini beating him. He leaned forward so he was nearly lying along the length of his broom. It was enough; Harry’s fingers closed around the Snitch as Zabini’s hand closed around Harry’s.

He yanked his hand away and punched his fist in the air. "Sorry, Zabini – you’re not my type," he yelled cheekily as he sped towards his jubilant teammates.

"Harry Potter has the Snitch. Gryffindor wins, 250 to 90," Donovan said tonelessly. "I hope that Ministry scout was paying attention."

Chapter Twenty-One: Blizzard

The other Gryffindors joined Harry on the pitch and gathered around him to offer their congratulations. They huddled against the wind in a jubilant circle while flakes of snow peppered their hair. Even Ron, despite their earlier row, seemed to have put everything else aside in light of a Quidditch victory.

"Well, it wasn’t the point spread I’d hoped for, but a win is win," Ron said, his words causing short puffs of smoke to rise into the cold air. It reminded Harry of a dragon, and he had to cover a snicker.

"It’s not like we were ringing up the score in this mess, anyway. Bloody snow in October. There’s still three weeks of Quiddtich season left," Ron said, scowling as if the early snow was a conspiracy against his gameplan.

Harry grinned. He liked how everything else in life still revolved around Quidditch for Ron. It gave Harry a sense of normalcy. Some things would never change.

"Harry, you’re bleeding," Ginny said, pulling his arm out straight and examining the scrape.

"It’s just a scratch, nothing to worry about," he said, glancing at his bloodstained robe. Truth be told, it was rather deep, and it stung painfully. Still, Harry had been back at school for two months and hadn’t had to visit the hospital wing once – he wanted to see how long he could keep that stretch going. His fingers felt numb from the biting cold, and he needed to change out of his sweaty Quidditch robes. Despite the chill, the match had lasted nearly three hours, and he reckoned he smelled rather ripe.

"Did you hear what Luke Donovan said at the end of the match?" Holly asked.

Ron turned toward her. "No, what? I tend to tune him out as soon as he opens his mouth."

Ginny giggled, and Harry imagined how Hermione would have smacked Ron for that comment. It was true, though. It was very difficult to stay focused on Luke Donovan’s voice. Harry had no idea how Luke got the commentator job in the first place, never mind why he hadn’t been replaced yet.

"He said he hoped that the Quidditch scout had seen Harry’s catch. Do you really think there is a Scout here?" Holly asked rather breathlessly. "That would be fantastic."

"A scout? What? When?" Ron said, blinking owlishly.

Ginny reached below his chin and shut his mouth with a snap. "Ron…observant as always, I see. Yes, there was a rumor that there would be a scout here, today. There was one at the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match, as well."

Ron looked downright perplexed. "How did I miss that? Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

Harry shrugged. "You didn’t sit with us last match, remember?"

"Didn’t they discuss it in the Hufflepuff stands, or were you otherwise engaged?" Ginny asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Ron’s ears turned red. "We were watching the match, Ginny. I was looking for weaknesses in both teams for when we play them."

"Watching for weaknesses, is that what it’s called now?" Ginny smirked.

"Shut it, Ginny. So, where is this scout? Which section is he sitting in?" Ron asked.

"All right, Gryffindors," Madam Hooch said, breaking into their circle. "Mr. Potter, there’s a Mister Simon Coffey who would like to speak with you. He’s right over there." She pointed towards the Ravenclaw stands. "I’d suggest you take your team captain with you, Mr. Potter. Best to make an impression," Madam Hooch said with a conspiratorial wink.

Harry’s eyes scanned the stands, a nervous flutter in his stomach. He swallowed before looking at Ron. Ron was bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to get a better look. Harry covered a smile; Ron was so eager, Harry didn’t think he even remembered that he’d been cross with Harry before the match.

"Right. Ron, d’you want-"

"Follow me, Harry, and keep your mouth shut. Not one word about wanting to be an Auror," Ron hissed as they walked across the pitch. "It can’t hurt to just hear what he has to say. I’m really going to play you up. You just keep your mouth shut and take it. I mean it, Harry. This is no time to be humble…and don’t go all red when I say how good you are, either. We need to make him want you, make it appear like it’ll be the deal of his lifetime. Just nod and smile that little smile you do that makes my mum and sister melt."

Harry furrowed his brow and looked at Ron. "What-"

"Don’t play down anything I’m about to say to him, Harry. And brush your fringe back off your scar."

"Ron!"

"What? You’re the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Let that legend help you out for a change."

Harry would have argued with Ron further, but they’d already reached the stands. Mr. Coffey stood to greet them, and introductions were made. He was a short wizard, barely reaching Harry’s nose, with oily black hair that he wore slicked back. He reached out to shake both of their hands pleasantly, but Harry got a distinctly dodgy feeling from him.

"Mr. Potter, it’s a great honor to meet you. I’ve been hearing about your talent on the Quidditch pitch for some time now and thought it was time I should see you fly. Nice catch," he said with the cursory glance upward to Harry’s scar, which remained partially hidden behind Harry’s fringe.

"Thanks," Harry said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Harry’s been on the team since first year – youngest Seeker in a century. He’s only lost one match, and that one was due to extenuating circumstances," Ron said, causing Harry’s cheeks to flush. He tried to will it down, but felt his cheeks growing warmer the more he thought about making them stop.

"Yes. I’ve looked into the statistics of all the current Quidditch players here at Hogwarts. What are your plans after you finish your education, Mr. Potter?" Simon asked.

Harry thought it was a stupid question, considering all the Daily Prophet’s headlines over the past few weeks had concerned his destiny. "Er…"

"Harry obviously has some big plans ahead of him, but afterwards…he’s keeping his options open," Ron said smoothly. Harry raised an eyebrow but Ron ignored him.

"Are you interested in playing professional Quidditch?"

"Er…"

"Do you have a team that’s looking for a Seeker?" Ron asked.

Simon Coffey’s eyes flickered from Harry to Ron before settling on Ron. "Well, the Arrow’s Seeker has been plagued with injuries, so they are looking for a reserve. All the teams generally keep their eyes open for a good Seeker. I’m also beginning recruitment for the English National team."

"How about the Cannons? Their Seeker hasn’t even made a catch in the second half of the season," Ron said, eagerly sitting forward in his seat.

"Well, the Cannons’ entire team still needs strengthening, but they’re improving. They took on a Keeper who left Hogwarts last year, Stephen Reed."

"Right. Good Keeper. I always thought he’d do better as a Beater, though. He had good instincts on where to aim the Quaffle."

"Do you have Seer blood?" Simon asked Ron, startled.

"Seer blood? Me? Nah, bit dodgy, isn’t it?" Ron chuckled.

Harry, who had been concentrating on sitting back and not saying anything, perked up at this line of questioning. "Why do you ask?"

Simon’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Ron appraisingly. "Well, because they switched Reed on the lineup to a Beater position, only no one has seen him play yet."

Ron smiled smugly and crossed his arms across his chest.

"I’m not promising anything. I’m not certain if I have an open spot for you to fill, but if I were to pass your information along, would you be interested?" Simon asked, shrugging his shoulders indifferently.

Harry saw Ron’s eyes light up in anticipation. He stood behind Simon’s shoulder and out of his line of view, nodding vigorously. Harry hadn’t ever seriously considered playing Quidditch professionally. It had only been a fantasy after the World Cup. Truthfully, there was nothing he enjoyed more. After this battle with Voldemort – if he lived – maybe he should consider doing nothing but playing for the sheer thrill of it for a while.

"I’d have to see an offer," he said, feeling proud when he saw Ron give a thumbs-up signal.

"Very well, then. It’s been a pleasure to meet both of you," Simon said. "I’ll be in touch."

Both Harry and Ron watched him walk away before Ron shouted jubilantly, "Yes!"

Harry chuckled. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Only for you, mate," Ron replied. "Come on, Harry. You were the youngest Seeker in a century. Everyone else expected someone from the Department of Magical Games and Sports to take notice eventually. And he’s looking for both the League and the English National team. That would be brilliant."

"I don’t know. Playing for England would be great, but it would mean travelling a lot," he said, thinking that if he did manage to defeat Voldemort, he really wanted to find a place of his own. A place to call home. He wasn’t certain why it seemed so important. But it did.

"Harry, how long have you known you were a wizard? You’re still thinking like a Muggle. Long distance means nothing. You can have a match in Romania in the morning and simply Apparate back to your flat by lunch. All you need is an international Apparation license. After you save the world – again – I can’t see them denying you that."

Harry looked at Ron carefully. He didn’t appear to be upset by the scout’s interest, so maybe this would be a good time to revisit their earlier argument. "Ron, about Sirius’s will."

"Forget about it."

"But-"

"Harry…it’s not from you, it’s from Sirius, right? If Sirius had left me a bucketload full of galleons, I’d have helped Mum and Dad out, too. Now…this Quidditch idea. You don’t want to play for the Arrows – their uniforms are too feminine. You’d do much better on a rougher team."

"Like the Cannons?" Harry asked, grinning. "No thanks, I want to win."

Ron shoved Harry’s shoulder none-too-lightly. "As if they’d want you. They need someone with experience."

Harry returned the shove. "Yeah…experience getting clobbered."

"Tosser."

"Prat."

By the time Ron and Harry had returned to the locker room to shower and change – and Harry had a chance to put a bandage on his arm – the rest of the team had already left. As they were about to leave, however, Ginny emerged from the girls’ locker room. She was rather pale, and Harry thought her eyes looked red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying.

"All right, Ginny?" he asked immediately.

"Can I talk to you a minute?" she asked. "Alone."

"I’ll meet you two back in the common room," Ron said, for once taking the hint.

Harry took Ginny’s hand and led her over to the bench in front of his locker. "What happened, Ginny? What’s wrong?"

Ginny sniffed and swiped her hand beneath her nose angrily. "I wanted to talk to you about that article in Witch Weekly this morning."

Harry groaned inwardly. When she’d approached him before the match, he’d thought she’d moved past her anger. Obviously not. "I’m sorry, Ginny. I really am. You’ve got to understand – most of the things they print about me aren’t true. By being my girlfriend…well, this probably isn’t the last time they’ll have something nasty to say. I’m really sorry, Ginny." He was, too. It was bad enough that they thought he was fair game for their silly speculation, but for them to hurt Ginny’s feelings made his blood boil. "I’ll send an owl to the editor and demand a retraction, okay? The only thing is…I’m not certain that won’t make it worse."

"No. Harry, you misunderstood. I was angry at first about the comment about chasing you for your money. But…well, that was just my pride, and I do know you don’t see me that way," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"Of course not."

"That’s not what I’m worried about. While you were outside, parts of that article kept running through my head, and I realized it’s right."

"What?"

Ginny shook her head again and stood up. She began pacing in front of him like a cat on the prowl. "Let me finish. It said something about you having your pick of women after you defeat Voldemort."

"If I defeat Voldemort."

"When you defeat him. I never really thought about it, but it’s true. There will be women throwing themselves at you everywhere. I bet that’s what Cho was doing at Charlie’s service. She’d joined the Order by then, so she knew about the prophecy. I know you love me, Harry…but you’ll have all these beautiful witches throwing themselves at you and…and…"

"You’re beautiful, Ginny, and you’re everything I’ve ever needed. No other woman is going to hold a candle to you," Harry said, smiling softly at her insecurity. This was the one and only part of his life where he was completely certain about his feelings – he never intended to let her go.

"Come off it, Harry; I’m not that special, and I have bright red hair…"

"I like red hair. I like how it shines when the sun touches it…and how soft it is. I’ve always noticed your hair, Ginny."

Ginny ignored him completely. "I’m too short."

"I’m short. We fit together quite nicely."

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. "I’m not exactly what you would call well-endowed."

Harry grinned. "They seem just fine to me, and I’m quite fascinated by them."

Ginny giggled at him. "Harry! I’m serious."

"I know you are, which is what is worrying me. What is all this about, Ginny?" Harry asked.

Ginny sighed and sank back down onto the bench next to him. "It’s not that I don’t trust you, Harry. It’s just… I don’t know. I feel confident here at Hogwarts. We’re well suited, and we have a lot in common here. But…once you’ve left, I’m not so certain. I still have another whole year of school left. A year without you, while you’ll be out doing all kinds of different things and being in the spotlight. Look at how they’re trying to get at you now, even while you’re still in school. Any witch would be happy to get her claws into you.

"No offense, Harry, but you’ve been kind of sheltered here when it comes to women. You’ll be out there with glamorous, self-assured witches who are already out in the world making their mark. How can I compete with that?"

Harry took her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him. "You don’t have to compete with anyone, Ginny." Harry shook his head, searching for the words to make her understand. "When Ron and I were outside with the scout, he mentioned searching for players for the English team. I had some reservations about all the traveling before Ron so subtly reminded me about Apparation."

Ginny snorted.

Grinning, Harry continued, "The reason I was hesitant was because I thought I wanted a place to call home, not to live out of a trunk. But I’ve realized something, sitting here with you. Home isn’t really a place. It doesn’t matter where I hang my hat…home is with you. You are my home, Ginny. I need you in my life. None of the rest of it means anything without you."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny said, sniffling.

"Did I make you cry?" Harry asked incredulously. "Bugger! Ginny, I was trying to make you feel better."

"Shut it, you great big prat," Ginny said, before launching herself at him and causing him to fall back along the bench. She rolled back with him, never breaking contact with his lips and proceeded to snog him senseless. Whatever he’d been about to say flew out of his head as all his senses became overly aware of the small girl who’d pinned him to the bench. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. His glasses were askew, but he didn’t care. He simply wanted to concentrate on the delicious sensations that were running through him as her tongue did a furious tango with his own.

He could smell the sweet wildflower scent of her shampoo as he tugged on the clasp holding her ponytail in place. Her hair spilled around him and cascaded over his face like a silken tent.

Harry knew he only had a tentative grip on his control and had to slow this down a bit. He pushed her back slightly and tried to pull away, but she held firm. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he physically removed her and slid out from under her. Panting, he began to pace back and forth in front of the bench while trying to cool his raging hormones.

"Harry," she said, dazed and sounding breathless. He looked over at her sitting on the bench, her brow knit in confusion. Her hair was in disarray and spilling wildly down her shoulders. Her lips looked pouty and swollen from kissing.

Harry swallowed and forced his eyes away. "Sorry, Ginny. If we didn’t stop, I wouldn’t have been able to in another minute," he gasped.

"Oh," Ginny said, perplexed. "Ohhhhh," she repeated, her eyebrows shooting upwards when she realized his predicament.

Once he’d regained a small semblance of control over his instincts, Harry moved back down towards her and stood in front of her, leaning back against the lockers. "Ginny, I need to tell you something."

Ginny took both his hands in her own as she gazed up at him. "What is it?" she asked with a slight frown.

"Not to worry…I just don’t want you to doubt how important you are to me," Harry said, locking his eyes with hers and gently smoothing her frizzed hair. "Ginny, it doesn’t matter if I’m here at Hogwarts or not – you are the one I want to be with, forever. For however long – or short – a time that’s going to be."

"Don’t talk like that Harry." Ginny stood and placed her hands on both sides of his face. Tears glittered in her eyes as she spoke intently. "You’re going to be around for a long, long time. You’re going to win this thing, because my love – all of the love that we all feel for you – is going to make certain of that. Voldemort couldn’t handle the love you felt for all of us. He’s in for one hell of a shock when he feels all the love that the rest of us feel for you."

Harry kissed her softly and said in a gruff voice, "Do you have any idea at all what you’ve done for me? You showed me I wasn’t alone…when I was feeling my loneliest. You taught me how to feel, when I’d spent my whole life learning to bury my feelings. You showed me how to love, and be loved in return, when I’d always wondered what love even meant.

"You’ve given me confidence in me – that you’ll be there to catch me if I fall, and that you’ll stay even if I mess up. You love me despite the scars, and I don’t mean the one that shows…and I don’t think I can ever make you understand. I don’t think I can ever find the words to tell you how much you’ve helped me grow.

"If I can do this, Ginny, and I sincerely hope I can, it’s because you’ve shown me the possibility of a life I only dreamed about before you. That once the Boy-Who-Lived has met his fate…that there will still be a life for me…for Harry."

Harry’s voice was cracked and hoarse, and Ginny had tears streaking her cheeks once again. He moved to take her in his arms but was stopped by the force of the smack upside the head she inflicted upon him.

"Ginny! What the-"

"Don’t you dare think that counts as any kind of goodbye speech, Harry Potter, because I refuse to accept it if is. I won’t say goodbye. If you meant what you said, then you owe me…and you’d better come back to me," Ginny said, her eyes blazing.

Harry chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. "Well…I didn’t plan it as a goodbye speech, but if I had, I’m fairly certain that wouldn’t have been the reaction I’d have expected."

Ginny glared at him for a moment. He tried to keep his face serious, knowing she was truly upset, but he felt his lip twitch, and soon he couldn’t hold the laughter back. Ginny started to giggle quietly at first, before she, too, was helpless in her mirth. Harry held on to his stomach as he laughed. Ginny’s giggles sounded musical in the emptiness of the locker room. He pulled her closer and nuzzled her ear. Ginny sighed and turned her head to give him better access to her neck.

Harry began to trail kisses along her throat. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. Harry pushed her back against the lockers and kissed her fully on the mouth. She moaned in the back of her throat, and it drove him wild. He deepened the kiss as he ran his fingers through her soft hair. She quickly returned his ardor as he moved his hands beneath her jumper. His breath hitched as his hands unexpectedly came in contact with the soft, bare skin on her back. It was quite some time before they returned to the castle.

When a very disheveled Harry returned to the castle later that night, he found Ron lying on his bed, tossing a Quaffle in the air repeatedly. Harry smoothed his hair nervously and hoped Ron wouldn’t ask him where he’d been and why he’d missed the feast. He didn’t feel like lying to Ron, but he didn’t particularly want to tell him he’d been busy heavily kissing his sister, either.

"All right, Ron?" he asked, not making eye contact while he placed his broom in his trunk.

Ron grunted noncommittally.

Harry looked over at his friend finally and noticed that he was staring intently at his Charms textbook. "Ron," Harry repeated.

Ron finally looked up. "Oh, hey, Harry. Have you finished your Charms essay?"

Harry scratched his head. It wasn’t typical of Ron to worry overly much about homework. "Yeah, why?" he asked, digging out his essay and handing it to Ron.

"Thanks. I never realized how much Hermione helped me with my homework. I mean…I knew she helped…I suppose I just never really thought about it," Ron said.

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah. She’s bailed both of us out a lot."

"I know. At first – after we broke up – it was almost like I needed to prove to her that I could do things without her help. Now, all my marks are slipping, and I can’t depend on her to help me."

Harry sat on his bed and looked over at his friend. "I’m certain if you simply told her that you needed some help, she wouldn’t refuse."

"I know she wouldn’t. That’s what makes it stink. If I thought she’d get all pissy and still not help, it’d be easier to stay mad. But she wouldn’t do that. She’d still get pissy with me, but she’d also help. I wish I could just take advantage of her and not care – like I used to do."

"But you do care about her, Ron," Harry said softly. He and Ron never really talked about this emotional stuff, and it felt awkward doing so now. "Just tell her."

Ron shook his head. "I bollixed things up too badly. She’s with Boot now, and I’m seeing Hannah. She’s a nice girl who goes along with everything I say. I should love that, right?"

"Do you?"

"No," Ron said, sighing. "I miss the way Hermione always challenges me."

Harry pulled out some of his own homework and began to head back towards the common room. Before he left, he said, "Ron, it took you at least four years to get up the courage to finally ask Hermione out in the first place. Don’t let it take another four to fix this…or it might be too late."

The cold weather that had begun on Halloween continued through much of November. A thin layer of snow covered the ground uninterrupted throughout the month. Professor McGonagall continued to divert Harry’s mail, although, thankfully, the number of letters had lessened slightly since the original reading of the prophecy. Of course, the article in Witch Weekly hadn’t helped, and Harry found himself the recipient of both several marriage proposals, as well as some accusations of being a fraud.

Inside the castle, Harry continued his training. Percy attended each lesson, tight-lipped and appearing extremely put out, but he hadn’t mentioned the Killing Curse again. Harry suspected there had been a battle of wills between Fudge and Professor Dumbledore, and Dumbledore had come out the winner. Harry didn’t know for certain and couldn’t find the energy to ask. He needed to focus and couldn’t worry about the frustrations of Percy Weasley.

Harry’s classmates became preoccupied with the approach of Christmas, making Harry wonder what it would be like to be able simply to push thoughts of the war away like that. Regardless of the reason for their distraction, Harry was thankful for it, since it finally gave him a bit of breathing room. If one more person had stopped him in the corridor to ask when he thought he’d be taking on Voldemort – or You-Know-Who, as they still insisted upon calling him – Harry thought he would have screamed. And the female population of the school kept approaching him with alarming frequency, despite the glares he often caught Ginny giving them.

Ron hadn’t taken any steps to rectify things with Hermione, but Harry suspected he had stopped seeing Hannah. Ron never made any announcement about it, but Harry noticed that he no longer disappeared in the evenings and instead did homework with him and Ginny. He was proud of his friend for at least doing the right thing by Hannah; now if he’d just take the next step with Hermione.

It was towards the end of November, when Professor Dumbledore made an announcement about a Hogsmeade weekend, that Harry got the full story. Both Harry and Ron had been told they needed to remain in the castle, and Ginny had agreed to stay without an argument. Harry suspected the attack at the Ministry had frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Hermione, however, was going into town with Terry Boot, and Ron wasn’t happy about the situation.

Harry and Ron were lying in their bunks in the dormitory on Saturday morning, while the rest of Gryffindor tower hurriedly planned for the excursion.

"What is she thinking, going into Hogsmeade today?" Ron asked for the hundredth time since he’d learned of Hermione’s plans.

"She feels that if it’s safe for the rest of the students, it’s safe for her, as well. As Head Girl, she thought she should be there," Harry repeated, still feeling guilty for not attending. Professor Dumbledore had insisted that he was too much of a target. Harry consoled himself with the thought that the other students would actually be in less danger without him there than if he accompanied them.

"What does she see in that lame-duck Ravenclaw, anyway? I always thought he was a poofer."

Harry grinned. "Obviously not."

"I think Professor Dumbledore is mad for allowing it. Everyone knows she’s our best friend," Ron said grumpily.

"Ron, when are you going to get around to telling her that you still care about her?" Harry asked wearily. He was tired of seeing his two friends dance around each other again. They were both so stubborn.

"Drop it, Harry."

"What did Hannah say when you told her you weren’t going into Hogsmeade today?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrow and waiting to see Ron’s reaction.

Ron shrugged and mumbled, "We’re not really seeing each other anymore."

Harry covered his smile and tried to act nonchalant. "Really? Since when?"

"Oh, give it up, Harry. I know you’ve suspected it, and I’m certain Ginny put you up to getting the details. I just told Hannah that it wasn’t working. She seemed relieved, and said she was glad I didn’t think so, either. To be honest…I think she sort of fancies Neville."

"Neville?"

"Yeah…she’s been asking after him…and they both take Herbology together."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Hmm. Weird. Listen, are you going to come up to the Room of Requirement to visit with Remus and Tonks today?"

Remus had contacted Harry through the mirror to say he had some business in Hogsmeade and would like to meet for lunch. Since Harry couldn’t go to the village, Remus and Tonks had suggested meeting here. Harry was anxious to see how they were doing since Charlie’s death and what had happened on Remus’s assignment. The older man had been remarkably tight-lipped about it.

"Yeah. What time?" Ron asked.

"Around eleven," Harry said.

"Good. I can sleep for another couple hours," Ron replied, turning back over in his bed. Harry shook his head and got up to take a shower. Unlike Ron, he’d never get back to sleep now.

Harry waited in the common room for both Ron and Ginny to come downstairs. He’d gone to the owlry to visit Hedwig while both his friends had a lie-in. It was now nearly eleven, and Harry was anxious to see Remus. He hoped he might get some more information on Lucius Malfoy’s whereabouts or what the rest of the Order was doing these days. Harry’s scar had been prickling uncomfortably all morning, and he feared Voldemort was up to something.

"Hey there, you," Ginny said as she skipped down the stairs. She wore a white frilly blouse and Muggle jeans that seemed to cling to every curve. Harry was mesmerized, watching her approach. "Earth to Harry," Ginny said, obviously amused.

Harry shook his head to clear it, but it only made the pain in his head worse. He winced, and Ginny noticed it immediately.

"All right, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "It was just a twinge."

"Where’s Ron?" Ginny asked.

"He hasn’t come down yet. He’s taking longer than a bloody girl," Harry snapped. He suddenly felt shivery and rather ill. He wished Ron would hurry up and come downstairs so they could leave.

"You don’t look well, Harry," Ginny said coming towards him.

Suddenly, Harry’s head throbbed as if he’d been struck with a Bludger. Pain sliced through his head as if an axe had neatly cleaved him in half. A feeling of euphoria overtook him. Finally! He could hear giddy, jubilant laughter growing louder and louder and ringing in his ears.

A sudden douse of cold water snapped him out of it, and the giddy laughter died in his throat. He was lying on the floor in the common room, his scar throbbing painfully. Ron stood above him, holding an empty water pitcher with a terrified expression on his face.

"What happened?" he asked, kneeling down next to Harry and helping him to a seated position.

Ginny knelt on his other side and gingerly touched his vivid scar. He hissed with pain and pulled away from her touch. "Ouch."

"Harry, what happened?" Ginny repeated.

"I dunno. He’s thrilled with something," Harry said, panting. The pain was still excruciating, and he held his head in his hands. "I didn’t get a vision, just the feeling. I don’t even want to think about what is making him that happy."

"Should we go tell Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"No. Let’s go see Remus first. He’ll probably want to tell Dumbledore, anyway," Harry replied. He didn’t want to take the chance of not getting to see Remus at all. Ron helped him to stand, and the three of them climbed out of the portrait hole. By the time they reached the Room of Requirement, Harry was leaning heavily on Ron. In actuality, he suspected Ron was supporting more of his weight than he was, but he simply felt too ill to care.

The door was already open, and Remus and Tonks were waiting inside. They both rushed towards the others when they saw Harry’s condition. Remus put his arm under Harry’s other shoulder and helped Ron lead him to the couch. His former teacher’s eyes rapidly scanned over him and appeared to come to the conclusion that he’d be all right.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Voldemort," Ginny replied, her voice sounding very small and frightened. "We were in the common room, and Harry didn’t look well. He suddenly collapsed and started laughing this horrible, maniacal laughter. It was frightening," Ginny said with a small sob. Tonks moved next to her and wrapped her arm around Ginny’s shoulder. Harry could see that Ginny was trying not to cry, and he wanted to reassure her that he was fine. He still couldn’t form the words; his head was throbbing fit to burst.

"He was on the ground laughing when I came down the stairs," Ron said, finishing Ginny’s story. "I threw some water on his face, and it seemed to bring him ‘round. Sorry, mate."

Harry nodded weakly and reached his hand towards Ginny. "I’m all right," he gasped.

She took his hand and sat next to him. "No, you’re not. He said Voldemort was really happy about something," she told Remus and Tonks.

"Did you get a vision?" Remus asked.

"Happy about what?" Tonks asked at the same time.

Harry was afraid that if he opened his mouth to answer he’d throw up, so he settled for shaking his head slightly.

"He told us there was no vision. He just knew that he was really happy. He was laughing as if he’d gone mad. I haven’t seen him do that since the Lestranges broke out of Azkaban," Ron said.

"Do you want to go to the hospital wing, Harry? I’m certain Madam Pomfrey could give you something to help you sleep. I’ll go inform Professor Dumbledore," Remus said.

"No," Harry said. "I’m all right, just a headache now. Potions won’t help this kind of headache, anyway. I want to stay and visit with you."

Tonks and Remus shared a look above Harry’s head. Both of them appeared extremely concerned, and Harry wanted to assure them that he was fine.

"You stay and visit, and I’ll go and see if Professor Dumbledore is available," Tonks said. "I’m not positive that he’s even in the castle today."

Tonks left them all to take seats around a roaring fire that the room had thoughtfully provided. Harry lay back on the couch while the others settled around him. "Well, tell me what’s been happening with you lot," Remus said in an overly cheerful voice.

"I’d like to know how Harry’s dad, Sirius and Pettigrew became Animagi on their own when I can’t even do it under a teacher’s direction," Ginny said, sounding cross.

Remus laughed. "Well, James and Sirius both weren’t your typical students, and it took them years to do it. You’ve only been at it for a few weeks. As for Peter…Sirius kept threatening to hex his bits if he didn’t stick with it," Remus said, laughing. "It’s amazing what a teenage boy will do under constant threat to that part of his anatomy."

Ron burst into laughter, but Harry barely managed a grin. He was so tired, he thought he’d just close his eyes for a while…

The first thing Harry became aware of was a spasm of pain in his neck that he got from sleeping at a strange angle. The next thing was the soft murmur of voices nearby that he didn’t immediately recognize. His eyes opened quickly, and, without moving to indicate he was awake, he scanned the room. It was unrecognizable to him, although he identified the voices as belonging to Remus and Tonks, who were sitting together in an easy chair by a crackling fire.

Memories of his collapse in the common room and his stumbling walk up to the Room of Requirement flooded back to him. He supposed he was still in the Room of Requirement. He must have fallen asleep. Great. After looking forward to his visit with Remus for days, he went and slept through it.

He groaned slightly, alerting Remus and Tonks that he was awake

"Hey, kid," Tonks said. "If I didn’t know for a fact that I’m great company, I think I’d be insulted."

"You?" Remus asked. "At least you have the excuse of being out of the room when he nodded off. I believe I was in the middle of a very entertaining story. Might have to work on my delivery."

Harry smiled weakly. "Sorry."

"How are you feeling?" Remus asked.

"Okay, I think. My head feels much better," Harry said.

"Good. I told Professor Dumbledore what happened. He came back here with me, but obviously he didn’t wake you. He said to inform him if you remembered anything else, but as of now…we have no idea why he was so happy," Tonks said.

"Professor Snape was with him yesterday, and he didn’t know of anything specific. He was going to see if he could find anything out, but we haven’t heard back from him yet," Remus said.

Harry nodded and raised himself to a seated position. "It can’t be good. He was too happy…jubilant, really. It must be something really bad for our side."

"Don’t get stressed over it, Harry. What’s coming will come, and we’ll deal with it when it does," Remus said, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry looked up at him. "Easier said than done."

"I know. But you’re doing the best thing you can right now. Continue your education and continue your training. You’re doing an amazing job, Harry. Your parents would be so proud of the young man you’ve become."

Harry smiled softly and ducked his head. "Thanks, Remus."

"Look, I don’t mean to break this up, but we really need to get out of the castle before all those little twerps return from Hogsmeade, Remus. It would be best if we weren’t seen here," Tonks said, guiding Remus off the couch.

"I’m really sorry I missed your whole visit," Harry said. "You two seem like you’re doing well." Harry didn’t want to ask them outright if they were getting along, but the fact that they were here together and snuggling on a chair had to be a good sign, right?

"We’re both doing well, Harry. Don’t worry about us," Remus said with a smile.

Tonks winked at him. "Better than well," she whispered as she walked past him.

He walked them to the stairway, where they went down, and he went up. He entered the common room to find Ron, Ginny and Hermione sitting by the fireplace deep in conversation.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, being the first to spot him. She couldn’t have been there for very long, since she still wore her cloak and snowflakes dusted her hair and shoulders.

"Is it snowing?" Harry asked, amazed. He turned to look out the window and saw the tiny white flakes. They were so small it almost looked like rain, but the landscape was rapidly being covered in a layer of crisp, white snow.

"Yeah, it started a little while ago, but it’s really coming down hard. They started prodding everyone back towards the castle early," Hermione said.

"How was it?" Harry asked.

"Never mind that – how are you?" Hermione asked. "Did you talk to Professor Dumbledore? What did he say? Did you remember anything else?"

Obviously, Ron and Ginny had filled her in on their afternoon. He noticed Ron shrugging apologetically over Hermione’s head, and he scowled at him.

"I’m fine, Hermione. How was your date with Terry?" Harry asked, shooting a glare at Ron. This time it was Ron’s turn to scowl.

"What? Oh, it was…fine. Harry, you’ll never believe what I found. Look," she said, dragging an old, dusty book from her bag.

"You found a book, Hermione? Who would have ever suspected that?" Harry said dryly, causing Ginny to cover a snigger.

"It’s not just a book, Harry. Look at the title. Of course, you won’t be able to read it, because it’s written in Ancient Runes, but it’s the same Runes as the text where we found the Curse of the Damned. I saw it in an antique shop, and I knew it looked familiar. It was only after we left that I remembered, and I ran back to purchase it. I haven’t had the chance to look through it yet, but maybe there will be more information."

"Wow, Hermione. Excellent," Harry said, amazed that she had the presence of mind to distinguish between the scribbles of the Runes.

"You went looking at antiques on your date?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yes, Ronald," Hermione said with a glare. "Not everyone finds old books as loathsome as you do." Raising her nose in the air, Hermione took her book and went up to her dormitory to change out of her wet clothes, leaving a gobsmacked Ron in her wake.

The snow that had started during the Hogsmeade visit turned into a full-fledged blizzard that continued right through Sunday. Harry barely slept at all on Saturday night, because the wind was so loud as it howled against the walls of the castle. When it was all said and done, nearly a full meter of snow had fallen, and the grounds of Hogwarts took on a magical quality all their own.

The snow-encased trees along the forest’s edge glittered in unblemished whiteness, making it appear as if tiny crystals were embedded in the snow. It was a breathtaking sight to behold. Both Professor Sprout and Hagrid had cancelled their classes on Monday, while Hagrid cleared some paths across the grounds and out to the greenhouses. The vast majority of students had trouble paying attention in their classes on Monday, as they were all anxious to get outside and into the snow.

Since it had remained bitterly cold throughout the storm, the snow was light and fluffy. It was not at all the kind of snow that was good for making snowballs or snowmen. Instead, a large hill was magically raised near the Quidditch pitch, and students began retrieving toboggans and sleds from an old shed near the bottom of the hill. The shed conveniently refilled itself each time the last sled was taken.

Harry was beside himself with anticipation. He’d sneaked rides on Dudley’s toboggan when he was younger whenever he could, but this would be the first time he could enjoy himself without worrying about getting caught. Luckily for him, he didn’t have a session with Abe that afternoon. He waited for Ginny to finish her final class of the day, and the two of them bundled up and headed towards the hill.

Harry ignored the neat paths Hagrid had made, instead using warming charms to create his own. He’d spent years suffering through backbreaking shoveling while living with the Dursleys in his younger years. What he wouldn’t have given to have been able to perform these spells then. He enjoyed getting them to the shed his own way, despite Ginny’s exasperation.

Ginny chose an inflatable tube rather than a traditional wooden toboggan or plastic sled. She insisted it would be the fastest. Harry didn’t really have a preference, and he liked the idea of speed, so he went along with her. Her cheeks were already red from the biting wind, and she wore big, fluffy, pink mittens that she insisted were the warmest she’d ever owned.

The two climbed to the top of the hill, and Harry plopped himself down on the tube. Ginny sat in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around her. The hill was already clearly marked with tracks from other sleds, and it was crowded despite the chill.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"Ready," Ginny said, giggling. Harry pushed off in the snow and whooped with joy as they careened down the hill. The tube spun crazily as it hurtled down the steep slope.

At the very bottom, someone had built a slight incline so when the tube hit it, they actually caught air before dropping back to the ground. Harry hadn’t expected that, and it caught him by surprise. His momentary loss of balance was enough to tip the tube on its side, and the two of them fell face-first into the snow.

Ginny sat up, spluttering and wiping the snow off her eyes. It stuck in clumps to her eyelashes, and Harry couldn’t help but laughing, although he was certain he looked no better.

"Laugh it up, Potter," Ginny said with a scowl. "Next time, I’m steering, since you can’t seem to keep your seat."

"Oh, is that a challenge?" Harry asked playfully.

"Take it as you will," Ginny replied, raising her chin.

He stood up and grabbed the tube. "To the top of the mountain," he cried as if leading a battle charge. Ginny giggled and followed him up the hill.

They took several more runs down before they again flipped the sled over. Harry was lying on his back trying to catch his breath, and Ginny crawled over to him and kissed him soundly on the lips. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled so that she was pinned underneath him.

Her brown eyes sparkled and radiated enough warmth to melt an iceberg. He leaned down to kiss her again when another sled sped past them and knocked Harry to the side with its force.

Oomph," Harry said, having the wind knocked out of him.

"That’s what you get for snogging my sister in public, mate," Ron’s gleeful voice cackled.

"Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Weasley," Harry said, leaping up and hurling himself on top of Ron to shove a pile of snow down his neck.

The friends enjoyed the day; it was a peaceful start to the holiday season and a chance to escape from the coming gloom.

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Muggle Christmas

The weather remained cold as November turned into December, which meant that very little of the snow actually melted. It merely seemed to compact a bit. The castle was again decorated in its finery for the approaching Yuletide season. Professor Dumbledore informed Harry that he thought it best not to interrupt his training, so Harry would be spending Christmas at Hogwarts this year. Harry worried over the unfinished part of Professor Dumbledore’s sentence – that he thought it was best not to interrupt his training because there wasn’t a lot of time left.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, of course, decided to remain behind with him. When they informed Mrs. Weasley of their plans, however, she returned Delilah with a note of her own. The entire Weasley clan – minus Percy – would be descending upon Hogwarts for Christmas this year. It didn’t really matter all that much to Harry where they spent Christmas, as long as they could spend it together. Ginny’s whole attitude toward the holiday was very subdued.

Harry knew it would be a difficult Christmas for the Weasleys after their loss. He remembered how the memories of Sirius had been very intense the previous year for him. He thought that celebrating away from Grimmauld Place would be good for all of them. The Burrow had been destroyed last Christmas, and Charlie had been with them, then…

During the final week of classes before the Christmas break, all of Harry’s teachers appeared determined to ensure that he didn’t have a free moment to finish his Christmas shopping. Since he was unable to leave the Hogwarts grounds, he’d once again had to depend upon owl post to order his gifts. He had two huge essays due for McGonagall and Flitwick, and even Cordelia had them brewing a complex Blood Replenishing Potion. Snape had them dueling outside in the snow, because he insisted that they should be able to withstand the elements. Harry suspected he simply liked to see them struggling in the deep drifts while he sipped his steaming mug of whatever it was Snape drank. Harry and Ron had received several glares from Hermione for spending so much class time concocting tall tales of what it was in Snape’s mug. Snape had also informed the class that after they returned for the spring term, they’d begin dueling with the other classes.

Harry sat in the common room one night, scribbling out the last of his Transfiguration essay, when Hermione entered through the portrait hole. Her hair was pulled back into a single plait, but several wisps had pulled free, giving her a very harried appearance.

"All right, Hermione?" he asked to let her know he was there. She seemed so lost in thought, he didn’t think she’d noticed him.

Hermione gazed at him blankly, blinking her eyes several times before walking towards his table and dumping her impossibly large book bag on it. "Oh, hello, Harry. I just barely made curfew."

"Hermione, you’re Head Girl…you can miss curfew," Harry said, feeling amused.

"I don’t have scheduled rounds tonight, Harry. It wouldn’t be right to abuse my position," Hermione said stiffly.

"Were you revising with Terry?" he asked while covering a grin.

Hermione twitched her lips in annoyance. "We were in the library."

Harry frowned, perplexed. "Did your date not go well?"

Hermione sighed and began blinking furiously. "Oh, Harry. It wasn’t really a date. Nothing we do is really like a date. We do homework. We do research. We have very intelligent discussions about all sorts of stimulating topics," Hermione said, her voice trailing off at the end.

"But," Harry prompted.

"When I was in primary school, I had a nickname. The other children used to call me Little Miss Know-It-All. The first time I heard that here at Hogwarts, it was Ron who said it. I’d always consoled myself with the thought that people were simply jealous that I’d taken the time to be prepared. But…but…but…with Terry, I’m seeing it a bit from the other side.

"He’s bright, of course, and he always thoroughly knows his material. But he’s just so…smug about it! It drives me mad, and I want to wipe that smirk off of his face. I’m shocked by my behavior. It’s really not like me at all."

"No. Sounds more like Ron," Harry said sagely.

Hermione started wringing her hands. "I know! Believe me, I’ve thought the same thing. Is that how I sound, Harry? Do I really make everyone think that I think I’m superior?"

Harry had no idea how to answer that question. He wanted to be truthful but didn’t know what he’d do if she really started to cry. He suddenly wished desperately that Ginny were here. She was so much better at dealing with this emotional stuff.

"Hermione, when was the last time you broke the rules just for the hell of it?" Harry asked suddenly.

"What?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing in confusion at his non sequitur question.

"Let’s sneak down to the kitchens and get some hot chocolate. It’ll make you feel better. It always does for me," Harry said eagerly. The idea of a midnight kitchen run suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea, and much more fun than his Transfiguration essay.

"Harry, it’s after curfew, and you don’t need hot chocolate. You just want to go out because you’re not supposed to do it," Hermione said, frowning in disapproval.

Harry quickly ran upstairs to grab his Invisibility cloak. He came back to the common room and threw it over his head, holding it up so she could still see his face. "You’re right. Mischief has its place, too, Hermione. Are you coming?"

Hermione folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. "Honestly, Harry. You’re Head Boy. How is this going to look if we get caught?"

"So, you’re coming, then?" he asked cheekily.

"Well, I’m not letting you go on your own," she said, ducking under the cloak. "My goodness, remember when all three of us fit under here?"

Harry let the cloak fall around them and guided her towards the portrait hole. "Yeah. I can’t imagine trying that now. Ron would have to walk bent in half."

Hermione giggled. "The two of you have really got so much taller. You used to be shorter than me, remember?"

It suddenly dawned on Harry that he was standing a fair bit above her. When had that happened?

"I think it started sometime during fifth year," Hermione said, answering the question he’d never asked.

When they reached the kitchen, Dobby got them both hot chocolate and some biscuits that had been left over from dinner. Harry and Hermione sat down at the table and sipped their chocolate.

"Is Terry staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?" Harry asked. He knew Hermione’s parents were going skiing, but she’d opted to stay.

"No. He’s going home. He invited me to join him, actually, but I told him I was staying here."

"How did he take that?" Harry asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Fine, really. Nothing gets much of an emotional response out of him."

Harry nodded. Before he could stop himself, he said, "No, he’s sort of lame." He still hadn’t got over Terry’s easy dismissal of the Quidditch match.

Hermione’s eyes opened wide, and Harry braced himself to get scolded. Instead, Hermione started to giggle. "Oh, Harry. He is, isn’t he?"

"Yeah. So, are you going to break up with him?" Harry asked.

"Well, technically, we’re not even seeing each other. I mean…he never asked."

"Hermione, I think the point is rather taken."

"Oh, I suppose," Hermione said crossly. "I’ll tell him I just want to be friends. Nothing will really change, except for skipping the kiss goodnight."

Harry shook his head; they were getting into more than he wanted to know territory. "Have you found anything interesting in that book on Old Magic?" he asked, looking for a change of subject.

"Oh, it’s so fascinating. All of the spells are based on emotion. I even found reference to an early form of the Patronus charm. I’ve been doing some deciphering on my own, but do you know who’s really helped me? Luna. Her ideas are extremely wooly, but she’s actually very intelligent. I suppose that should be obvious, since she is in Ravenclaw. Still, she’s very good at Ancient Runes, and I’ve appreciated the help."

"Luna? Hmm. I never would have put the two of you together," Harry said, laughing.

Hermione grinned sheepishly. "Well, I must admit, I do tend to lose patience. But when we’re simply working…we get on well. I don’t think she and Neville are getting on these days."

"Ginny said the same thing."

"Poor Neville. I think Luna frightens him sometimes."

"Luna frightens me sometimes," Harry said, laughing.

The door to the kitchen burst open suddenly to reveal Ron standing there with a very put out expression on his face.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, jumping in fright.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said. "What’s wrong?"

"I woke up and realized you weren’t in your bed, and I got worried. I checked the Marauder’s Map and saw the two of you here. How come you didn’t wake me?" Ron asked.

"Sorry, mate," Harry said. He really hadn’t meant to exclude Ron or hurt his feelings. "It was a sort of a spur of the moment decision, and you were already asleep."

"Want a biscuit, Ron?" Hermione asked. Ron’s expression changed to one of pleasure as he joined them at the table. Food always distracted Ron.

Hermione levitated another mug over to the table, and Harry filled it with hot chocolate. The three of them sipped in silence for a moment.

"So, what are we discussing?" Ron asked.

"We’re talking about Old Magic and the book I found in Hogsmeade," Hermione said.

"And dumping Terry Boot," Harry added, hiding a snigger behind his mug as Hermione glared, and Ron perked up in his chair.

"You dumped Boot? What happened?" Ron asked.

"Oh, it was nothing," Hermione said with a wave of her hand.

"What was nothing? Did he do something to you, Hermione? If he got out of line, Harry and I’ll-"

"No. It was nothing like that, Ron. It just wasn’t working out, that’s all," Hermione said firmly. Harry noticed the hint of color on her cheeks, and he could tell she was pleased. She’d always liked when Ron stood up for her, no matter what she said.

Ron deflated a bit. "Oh. Okay, then." He paused for a moment as if searching for another topic of conversation, finally settling on his mug of hot chocolate. "Do you think Dobby keeps any butterbeer down here, or better yet…FireWhiskey?"

Hermione snorted. "Oh, right. That’s all we need. We’re in enough trouble already if we get caught out of bounds at this hour."

Ron started to laugh. "Can you imagine the look on Snape’s face if he caught Harry pissed? He’s been trying to get him thrown out of here for seven years. It would be like Christmas came early."

"Better yet, can you imagine if he found him pissed and completely starkers in the lake?" Hermione asked, her face turning pink as she giggled.

Ron howled. "And sputtering off about not being a virgin."

Harry, who had been pretending to be offended, couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself at that image. Hermione giggled uncontrollably, and Ron had tears streaming down his cheeks.

"As I recall," Hermione said, giggling even harder, "you were just as pissed and equally as starkers as Harry was, Ron."

Ron’s ears colored brilliantly. "Noticed that, did you?"

"It was a bit hard to miss."

"Hang on," Harry said, wiping the mirth from his eyes. "That whole night is still rather foggy to me, but as I remember it…it was Fred being starkers that really caught your fancy."

Hermione’s face matched the color of Ron’s hair. "Harry! He walked right out of the ocean. I can’t help that I was curious."

Ron howled and flung his head back so hard that the stool he was sitting on flipped backwards, and Ron landed on the floor in a heap, convulsed with laughter.

"Ron! Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?" Hermione asked, jumping from her seat and kneeling next to him.

Harry noticed the furtive looks that kept bouncing back and forth between the two of them and decided it would be prudent to make his exit now. "Hey, listen, you two, I was…um…I was supposed to see Ginny before she went to sleep, so I’m going to try and catch her. I’ll leave the Invisibility cloak. See you upstairs," he said as he rushed from the room.

He could hear Hermione’s voice as he shut the door. "But Ginny already went to bed."

Harry smirked, feeling quite pleased with himself. He knew Ginny had already gone to bed, but he thought Ron and Hermione could use a chance to talk to each other. It was the first time in a long time that it felt like their friendship was strong again. He didn’t know if Ron and Hermione would ever get back together as a couple, although he suspected that both of them still harbored a strong attraction for the other. Regardless, he hoped that their friendship, at least, was back to normal. He’d missed the close camaraderie they’d always shared.

*****

The end of term finally arrived, and the castle bustled with activity as students rushed for the train that would return them to their families. As Head Boy and Girl, Harry and Hermione were in charge of seeing the students off. Since Harry was unable to leave the castle grounds, he oversaw the loading of the carriages while Hermione did the same at the train station in Hogsmeade.

Harry watched his classmates as they departed the castle full of Christmas cheer. He wondered what his life would have been like if things had happened differently. If Voldemort hadn’t destroyed his world so completely, and he’d been allowed to grow up with his parents. He might even have a brother or sister to ride the train with, and he’d certainly get to go home to a house filled with warmth and homemade decorations. He was certain his mum would have saved the things he made instead of tossing them in the bin. He allowed himself to remain lost in his fantasy life for a moment and didn’t hear Neville approach.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Neville said, startling him.

"Hey, Neville. I hope you have a nice Christmas," Harry said, thinking about Neville visiting his parents in St. Mungo’s on Christmas day. Neville’s life, too, would have been so different if it hadn’t been for Voldemort’s lust for power.

"Yeah," Neville said vaguely. "I’ll be back here early, actually. Gran is travelling abroad on Boxing Day to visit some solicitors. I opted to come back here, so save me some marshmallows."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant. It should be a full house, what with all the Weasleys staying here. Maybe we can have a good snowball fight."

"Here I am, Neville," said Luna, struggling with a backpack that was nearly as big as her. Neville took the bag from her and slung it over his shoulder.

"Hi, Luna," Harry said. "Are you coming back early, as well?"

"No. Papa has a full holiday planned for us, so I’ll be back on the Express at the start of term," she said.

"Well, have a good holiday, then," Harry said as an empty carriage pulled up and Neville and Luna climbed aboard. "I’ll see you in a few days, Neville."

Harry watched the thestrals as they pulled the carriage away away, and he also kept his eyes on students as they hurried to other awaiting carriages. Seamus and Dean bumped ahead of a bunch of second years to grab a carriage with Lavender and Parvati. Jack Sloper and Holly Proctor waved goodbye as they entered another carriage together.

"Hiya, Harry," a small voice squeaked behind him. He turned to find Christian Chandler, one of the Gryffindor first-years, standing there. His fringe was long and unruly, and he kept having to push it out of his eyes.

"Hello, Christian. Ready for a holiday?" Harry asked.

"I can’t wait to get home and show my little sister all I’ve learned. She has to wait three more years before she can come, because she’s got a September birthday. She’s really hacked off about it," Christian said enthusiastically. He seemed rather delighted by his sister’s misfortune.

"Ah, she’ll probably be the brightest witch in her year, just like Hermione. She has a September birthday, too, you know."

Christian’s expression was doubtful. "Maybe. She wants to meet you. I think my mum does, too. We’ll have all the extended family over for Christmas dinner, and my mum’s claimed bragging rights that we’re in the same house."

Harry flushed. He felt distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of being the topic of anyone’s Christmas dinner. It hadn’t occurred to him before now, but he supposed that since the recent articles about him in all the wizarding publications, it was bound to happen. Just great.

"Aren’t you going home for Christmas, Harry?" Christian asked.

Harry smiled tightly. "No. I usually stay here for the holidays. All the Weasleys will be arriving tomorrow, so it’ll be a full house."

Christian grinned. "Well, have fun. See you later, Harry. Happy Christmas."

He waved as Christian climbed into a carriage. He looked to see if there were still students leaving the castle and felt the hair on the back of neck stand on end. He turned to see a group of Slytherins entering a carriage near the back of the line. Pansy Parkinson was with them, and she stopped to glare at Harry. He met her gaze and held it until she broke away first. He hadn’t seen much of her all term. He’d purposely scheduled their prefect rounds on opposite nights, and they didn’t have any classes together, so it wasn’t difficult to avoid her. He knew she was upset over his part in Malfoy’s death, but he was still rather startled by the venom in her gaze.

"Sorry you decided to remain in the castle over Christmas, Potter?" Blaise Zabini asked as he sidled up next to Harry.

Harry furrowed his brow. "Pardon?"

"You were frowning. I was wondering if you were sorry you decided to stay rather than go home for the holidays," Blaise said. His blue eyes seemed to study Harry intently.

Harry shook his head. "There’s nothing more festive than Hogwarts at Christmas. I wouldn’t miss it. What about you? You’re heading home, I see."

Blaise nodded. "Nobody throws a Christmas party like my parents. I’m looking forward to it."

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. Although he generally appeared amused by the antics of his classmates, Blaise struck Harry as a rather serious fellow. He didn’t picture him the type for festive merrymaking.

"What? You don’t think Slytherins celebrate Christmas?" Zabini asked, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Happy Christmas, Potter."

"Happy Christmas," Harry replied softly, watching as Zabini joined Pansy and the other Slytherins. Although he’d never admit it to Ron, there was something about Blaise that Harry couldn’t help but like. He thought if things had been different, they might have even been friends.

*****

All the Weasleys arrived the day before Christmas and settled into the Gryffindor dormitory. Fred and George arrived first and took over Seamus and Dean’s bunks. The twins had no intention of leaving Ron and Harry to have a much needed lie-in (since they had stayed up impossibly late the night before playing a vicious game of Exploding Snap with Ginny and Hermione in the empty common room). The twins immediately pulled the bed hangings open around each of Ron’s and Harry’s beds to beat the sleeping pair with pillows until they grudgingly arose. Harry grumpily wondered how they’d managed to learn the password to get into Gryffindor tower in the first place.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived later in the day, and Bill finally appeared during the Christmas Eve festivities. Bill told them all that Jacqueline had been released from St. Mungo’s, but her memory charm remained. The Healers were afraid they would cause permanent damage with any further probing to try to remove it. Bill told them that she was suffering from headaches and bouts of dizziness, but otherwise seemed all right. She’d gone home to spend Christmas with her family.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared in good spirits, but Harry noticed both of their gazes wandering, and they often seemed to be very far away in their own thoughts. He remembered how hard the previous Christmas had been without Sirius, and his heart ached for them.

Despite the underlying sadness, they all gathered in the common room and sang Christmas carols and toasted marshmallows in the fire. Mrs. Weasley brought along the Weasley family ornaments, and Harry got such a deep thrill of pleasure from hanging his own green ornament with the others on the tree. He hung his right next to Ginny’s and couldn’t help but notice how right it looked hanging there.

He’d never seen the common room looking so homey and festive. Dobby had gone all out and hung a particularly vigilant sprig of mistletoe above the portrait hole. Harry had taken advantage of it several times, and he’d been both amused and scandalized to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley doing the same. He and Ginny enjoyed watching Ron and Hermione blush and shift their feet when the determined plant refused to stop hovering above them until they fulfilled the requirements. When Ron leaned over to peck Hermione on the cheek and tried to back away, the plant evidently decided that a cheek didn’t constitute a proper kiss. Finally becoming exasperated, Hermione grabbed Ron’s head by holding the hair above each ear and kissed him quickly, but squarely, on the lips.

Pulling herself up with as much dignity as she could muster, she lifted her chin in the air and mounted the stairs to the girls’ dormitory in silence. Fred and George even managed to hold their snickers until she’d retreated, while Ron stood there gaping after her.

"I’m horrified, brother," Fred said dramatically.

"…to think that our own baby brother…" continued George

"…our own flesh and blood…"

"…is unable to demonstrate a proper kiss."

"Sod off," Ron growled at them.

"Why, I bet our sweet, innocent, baby sister could do a better job…" Fred said, ignoring Ron completely.

"…or at least show that she understands the proper technique," George added. "I’m assuming she does know the proper technique, doesn’t she, Harrykins?"

Harry flushed. Ginny jumped to her feet, arms akimbo. "All right, you two, that’s enough of that. I don’t see how we can be certain that the two of you can demonstrate a proper kiss since neither of you can manage to keep a girl around for very long. Perhaps you’re the ones who aren’t doing it properly."

Fred flinched. "Ginevra, I’m wounded."

"That, dear sister, is called hitting below the belt," George said, placing his wrist against his forehead dramatically.

"I can’t believe what the Weasley family has been reduced to. Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Fred said, collapsing on the couch in a heap.

"That’s enough, boys," Mr. Weasley said, chuckling. "I don’t think there is any real worry about a Weasley not knowing how to administer a proper kiss." He pulled Mrs. Weasley underneath the mistletoe, but before he could demonstrate, all his children plus Harry sprinted from the room and up the stairs to bed.

*****

Christmas Day dawned cold but bright and sunny. When they entered the Great Hall late in the day for the Christmas feast, they found that one large circular table placed in the center of the floor had replaced all of the house tables. There were only a very small number of students who had stayed behind. Most families had wanted to be together during this time of war. Even the teachers who remained behind were all members of the Order.

Harry sat at the table between Ginny and George. He’d received an owl bearing a gift from Remus that morning. Remus was spending the day with Tonks’s family. Harry gathered that Remus was rather nervous about the whole affair, and it amused him. Remus had spent part of Christmas with the Tonks family last year, so he didn’t know why Remus would be nervous about it now.

Abe and Cordelia pulled the majority of the crackers placed on all the settings until Abe finally settled on a hat he liked. It looked like an admiral’s cap and seemed strangely appropriate on Abe’s head. Hagrid and Professor Flitwick sat side by side, and Harry snickered at the glaring difference in size. He saw Professor McGonagall across the table, trying to make conversation with Professor Snape with little luck. The hook-nosed Defense teacher scowled at the rest of the guests as he poked lethargically at a roast potato on his plate. Honestly, if he was going to be so miserable, why did he even bother to join us?

Harry felt a hush fall across the table when Professor Dumbledore entered the room with another guest. Dumbledore wore stunning emerald green robes with golden swirls embroidered on them, but he looked ill and shuffled slowly across the floor. The tension in the room was palpable while everyone watched his progress. Harry was so absorbed in watching Professor Dumbledore and his apparent ill health that he didn’t give a second glance to the visitor until they had sat down.

"Happy Christmas," Professor Dumbledore said. "Allow me to introduce Ivan Horvath. Ivan is visiting from Hungary, and I have invited him to join us for dinner."

The name was familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t place it. The man was of indeterminate age, impeccably dressed all in black, and had an aura of suave sophistication. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, and Harry found he had to keep shaking his head to get his focus back. There was something about the man…a power that was nearly visible.

"Who is that?" Ginny whispered in his ear.

He turned to see Ginny staring at the stranger appreciatively, and he didn’t like it at all. He noticed that both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley wore the same, dazed expression and appeared unable to tear their gaze away from this man.

"Dunno. I’ve heard that name before, though," Harry answered, narrowing his gaze at the stranger.

The man turned and gazed directly back as if he’d heard their conversation, which was impossible from that distance. He arched a finely plucked brow and nodded his head in Harry’s direction.

Harry turned to listen to Fred and George pleading with Abe to arrange a night out for all of them.

"Come on, Abe. Ron and Harry have been stuck inside here all term. There has to be a way to sneak them out for a little fun and mischief," Fred said.

"What’s life without a little fun and mischief?" George asked, blinking his eyes mournfully.

Abe looked like he could easily have been a Marauder, and Harry saw the wheels turning in his head. "You lads are right. We can’t hide them away and let life pass them by, or what’s the point in fighting at all? I’ll tell you what. Give me a few days to put something together – nothing big or fancy, mind. But as long as we keep it secret, there must be a way to get them out for a bit. I have my ways of convincing Al to do things he wouldn’t normally do." As he said the last bit, Abe’s eyes were twinkling even more than Professor Dumbledore’s did, if that were possible.

Harry’s heart raced at the prospect. He’d love the chance to get out and do something different, even if was only for an hour or so. He was beginning to feel stir crazy, locked inside the castle. No matter how much he loved Hogwarts, being trapped anywhere eventually made it feel like a prison.

As Harry ate his dinner and pretended to keep up with the conversation around him, he continued to study the stranger. He noticed that while the man engaged in pleasantries with those around him, he never ate anything. Instead, he pushed the food around his plate with his fork gripped tightly in his perfectly manicured hand. Harry’s gaze kept being drawn back to Ivan’s hands. His fingers were long and appeared almost translucent. Harry found that even when he tried to look away, he was unable to do so. Ivan Horvath. Where have I heard that name before?

It was during our conversation after the attack on the Ministry.

He heard Professor Dumbledore’s voice in his head and glanced quickly at the aged headmaster, who was staring right back at him. Harry decided to try to communicate with him this way. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the words.

After the attack on the Ministry?

You asked about which side the vampires had chosen.

Harry’s eyes flew open wide. Ivan Horvath was a vampire! Professor Dumbledore had told him that vampires were solitary creatures and getting them all to agree to support anyone other than their own individual best interests was futile. Still, he was working with one vampire in particular, trying to form an alliance. That vampire was Ivan.

I can see recognition dawn on your face, Harry. Yes, Ivan is a vampire. He’s agreed to help us by supplying any information on Voldemort’s negotiations with the vampire community. However, from what he tells me, Voldemort’s efforts have been no more successful than our own.

Harry’s head spun. He found it very difficult to carry on a conversation in his head and pretend he was still paying attention to the people around him, as well. He noticed that Professor Dumbledore, however, appeared completely unruffled as he graciously passed a bowl of green beans to Professor McGonagall.

"I’m really quite pleased with my gift, Harry," Ginny said. "When do you suppose I’ll be able to use it?"

Harry had given her the equivalent of a Muggle credit card, with the funds being drawn directly from his Gringotts account. With it went the promise of a shopping spree like the one Remus and Tonks had given Harry. Ginny had been very envious of that excursion, and Harry always regretted not being able to take her along. This way, she could have one of her own.

"I’m still not completely comfortable with spending your money this way, but I won’t be too extravagant, and I am tired of wearing either my brothers’ hand-me-downs or clothes my mother picked out. It will be nice to have some things of my own," Ginny gushed.

Harry smiled faintly, desperately trying to keep up with both conversations.

What do you mean that his efforts have been as unsuccessful as ours? Didn’t you just say that Ivan has agreed to help? That seems successful. Harry shielded his eyes and tried to force his thoughts toward Professor Dumbledore.

True. But he is a single vampire. He does not speak for the community at large. Voldemort may also have one or two who have agreed to help him, but there is no way to gain the support of a legion. Voldemort has nothing to hold over them – they are already dead.

Harry shuddered slightly. He didn’t know if it was such a good idea to trust a vampire, anyway.

A very wise assumption

This was a new voice in his head. A thickly accented voice that pronounced his v’s like w’s. Harry raised his eyes towards Ivan, who stared back with lazy amusement.

You are a wise young man, Harry. Voldemort cannot convince the vampires to join him because he has nothing to offer them. He leads through threats and intimidation. How do you reasonably intimidate someone who is already dead? Vampires have no souls, so they care for no one who can be threatened. Even a wooden stake is only a threat for the moment it’s in front of you.

Harry had to stop himself from giggling out loud when Ivan said Voldemort and it sounded like Woldemort. Ginny looked at him strangely, but he smiled and pretended to focus on his pudding.

How did Professor Dumbledore convince you to aid us, then?

Harry’s head was beginning to ache from the Legilimency. Not only was he trying to focus on getting his thoughts to Ivan and Dumbledore, but since he was allowing their thoughts to enter his mind, he had to work doubly hard to keep up his shield to keep Voldemort out. The thoughts from all the others in the Great Hall were threatening to overwhelm him, as well. He was feeling quite nauseous.

He didn’t try to coerce me; he merely asked for my assistance. Professor Dumbledore has always treated me with respect. In return, I respect him for that. He knows if I come here on his bequest, he need not hide his students in fear I will feast upon them. In turn…I keep my appetite in check while I am here.

Harry shuddered again, thinking what it must be like to live for an eternity feeding off the lives of others. He couldn’t stand it.

No, I don’t suppose you could.

Ivan’s voice sounded amused. Harry looked up to see an odd glint in the vampire’s eyes. There was something mesmerizing – hypnotizing even – about Ivan’s gaze, and Harry forced his eyes away.

"Where are you, Harry? You’re a million miles away," Ginny said, her brow knitting in concern.

Harry rubbed his forehead. "Sorry. I have a headache."

"It’s not…Tom…is it?" Ginny asked.

"No. I just have a lot on my mind." Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and continued to stare at Ivan across the table. When the dinner was finished, they nodded to one another. Harry returned to Gryffindor tower with the others feeling oddly like he had passed some kind of test.

*****

It was several days after Christmas that Abe followed through on his promise to get them out of the castle. He’d arranged for a portkey to take them to an undisclosed mall with an arcade. None of the Weasleys had any idea what an arcade was but were eager to find out. Mrs. Weasley disapproved of the idea, but Harry could see the fascination in Mr. Weasley’s eyes with the thought of all those Muggles. Professor Dumbledore had granted the okay, so Mrs. Weasley reluctantly agreed.

Neville had arrived on Boxing Day, and they invited him to join them. He was eager to go, and sent an owl to Luna to invite her along. She responded that her father wasn’t keen on letting her return to Hogwarts early, so they’d have to let her know how it was. She also warned them about the danger of being sucked into a video game. Harry and Hermione snorted over it, but Neville looked rather nervous.

They ate an early dinner and dressed in Muggle clothing. Ginny put the credit card that Harry had given her in the pocket of her jeans. She planned on returning with some new Muggle clothes of her own. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Fred, George, Bill, and Abe met in the common room. Abe pulled out a set of Muggle keys, and they all touched one. Harry felt the familiar, nauseating rush of a portkey briefly before feeling himself stumble and crash to the ground in an alleyway behind a large complex he recognized as a mall.

"Okay, kiddies. We’ve all got some things we’d like to do, so I’m giving you your freedom until…half nine. We’ll meet back here then. Everyone stays with a partner at all times. Do we have a deal?"

Hermione looked around at the stores and the bright lights of the mall around her. "Are we in Aberdeen?" she asked suddenly.

Abe’s face dropped. "How in blazes did you know that?"

"I have relatives who live near here. I’ve been here before. The food court and arcade are that way," she said, pointing to her left. "That’s where we’ll be."

Bill smiled, shaking his head. "You’re certainly something else, Hermione. Come on, Abe. Let’s take a look around this place."

Harry ignored them while standing slightly apart and rubbing his forehead. His scar was prickling, and it itched. It wasn’t a serious kind of pain, more of constant irritation.

They followed Hermione to the arcade. Neville, Ron and the twins were stunned silent for a moment by the lights and loud music blaring from within the arcade. Harry chuckled over how such common Muggle things could bring such wonder to fully capable wizards. The hum of activity from teenagers huddled in groups, along with the steady noise from the machines, drew them all inside. It didn’t take the twins long to catch on to the idea of the video games. Harry kept a wary eye on them, afraid they’d forget about the fact they couldn’t use any magic. Soon, Harry and Fred were locked in competitive game of air hockey. Harry had seen all these games during his time with the Dursleys. Dudley had even had a lot of them for his Playstation, but Harry had never been allowed to use them. He felt as awestruck as his wizard friends.

Hermione and Ginny stayed for a little while, but lost interest fairly quickly and wanted to shop for clothes. They agreed to check back in with the boys and left to do some shopping.

The girls did as promised and dropped back to check in on several occasions, each time with more packages. Fred and George had taken over the air hockey table and somehow had attracted a crowd of young ladies to watch them play. Ron and Neville had become obsessed with a video game called Tetris that involved falling puzzle pieces. Harry moved from game to game, enjoying them all but not getting too hung up on any in particular until he found a pinball machine. He watched some Muggle teens play until he’d figured it out for himself, then lost all track of time once he got his hands on a machine.

He jumped when he felt a pair of arms slip around his waist. He peered over his shoulder quickly to see Ginny’s impish smile. In that moment of distraction, he lost his final pinball.

"Boo," she said.

"Hi," Harry said, frowning at the machine. He turned to pull her into an embrace. "I hope you’re having fun, because you just cost me my game."

Ginny rolled her eyes at the machine. "I can’t believe you’re still playing with that thing. There are so many other things to see here. There’s a store that sells those moving picture boxes, and Hermione made every one in the store show something different. It was amazing."

Harry grinned at the thought of her enjoying the mall because of a telly. "Did you shop at all?"

Ginny’s eyes alighted with excitement. "I’m having a great time. I’ve bought a bunch of new things. Wait until I show you," she said, lowering her eyelashes seductively.

Harry grinned. "Oh, yeah? Anything I’ll like?"

"Hmm. Maybe. I did get some racy new red knickers."

Harry’s gulped as fantasies of Ginny wearing racy red knickers instantly sprang into his mind.

"Kidding, Harry," Ginny said, giggling.

"Oh," Harry said, his face falling. "Damn, I thought maybe I’d managed to get myself a present with that Christmas present."

Ginny smacked him on the arm. "Prat."

Harry grabbed her hand and tugged gently. "Come on over here. There’s something I want to show you."

Ginny struggled with all her shopping bags until Harry pulled her inside a small curtained booth with a bench. "What’s this?" Ginny asked.

"Huh? Oh, it takes your picture," Harry said, pulling out his wand and shrinking her packages so they could fit in his pocket. Being of age definitely has its advantages.

"Thanks. How does it work?" Ginny asked curiously. She poked at the blank screen in front of her several times, but nothing happened.

Harry sat on the bench and pulled her onto his lap. He put some Muggle money in the machine and kissed her on the cheek as the bulb flashed. Ginny giggled as they took several more pictures. Finally, she turned around and kissed him squarely on the lips as the light continued to flash.

Harry was so caught up in this impromptu snog session that he didn’t realize when the volume of the noise from the arcade rose, but the first screams definitely pierced his awareness. It was at that moment that it dawned on him that the flashes of light were glowing from the outside of the curtain. He pulled out his wand and cautiously peered outside.

His stomach plummeted when he saw three robed and masked Death Eaters casting spells into the crowd of Muggle teenagers in the arcade. A vast number of the spells carried that horrid green light Harry knew so well. He could see some return fire coming from behind a ticket counter and assumed Ron and the others had taken cover there.

The shoppers in the mall had panicked and were fleeing haphazardly for the exits. Their cries and screams drowned out the words of the spells being cast. The Muggles didn’t understand the implications of the strange beams of light, but the reality of the bodies falling around them needed no explanation. Chaos quickly ensued as they fought each other to get away from the scene.

Harry squinted his eyes and scanned them over the attacking Death Eaters, searching for weaknesses.

"Where’s Hermione?" he hissed, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t been with Ginny. His heart started pounding in his chest. Not her, too.

Ginny’s eyes were wide and frightened, but she grasped her wand tightly. "She went into the loo, there," Ginny said, pointing towards a sign for the women’s bathroom across the hall.

There was no sign of Hermione, nor anyone else near the bathroom entrance. He glanced again at the ticket counter in time to see Ron’s head peer over the top before ducking again as a volley of curses were sent his way. Harry thought he could also see the head of one of the twins, but he couldn’t tell which.

"Hawwy," an evil voice called above the chaos, a voice that sent icy waves of impotent fury crashing through Harry’s chest. "Are you here, Hawwy? Come out and play wif me. How many have to die this time? You decide. Here goes one; Avada Kedavra," she cackled.

"Don’t listen to her, Harry," Ginny hissed. "She’s baiting you."

"I know that," Harry snapped. "But she’s really killing them, Ginny. I can’t let that happen."

"If you let yourself be caught now, and Voldemort kills you before you’re ready…then all of these people are going to die, anyway," Ginny pleaded. The horror of what was happening was clearly visible in her eyes.

Harry’s tortured eyes peered back out the curtain and watched as a Muggle girl, no older than him or Ginny, was struck down at random.

"I can’t do nothing, Ginny. I just can’t," he said, steeling his resolve. "Cover me – I’m going to see if I can get close enough to flank them while they’re focused on Ron and the twins."

Ginny swallowed, but nodded as she gripped her wand tightly. "Be careful."

"You, too," he said before quietly slipping outside the curtain. He stealthily crept forward, keeping the video games between him and the Death Eaters. He’d only made it a short way before one of the Death Eaters noticed the movement and cast a spell towards him.

Harry threw his body to the ground and rolled to the side, dodging the spell. He didn’t want to use his wand yet. He suspected that they hadn’t recognized him, and the element of surprise he would have by them not knowing they were dealing with a wizard would be invaluable.

The Death Eater cast a spell that shot towards him in a stream of purple light. Harry dodged again and slammed hard into the skee ball machine. He picked up a ball that had been left behind and lobbed it at the Death Eater, striking him in the chest. The man stumbled into one of his companions, causing the spell he was firing to shoot harmlessly in the air.

The distraction gave Ron time to pull two young girls, who had been huddled out in the open, behind the counter with him and Neville. Harry glanced at the number of dead bodies lying on the dirty floor of the arcade, and he felt sick. His eyes scanned the entire area quickly, fixing on the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling.

Harry rolled as a deadly green light went whizzing over his head. He raised his hand toward the ceiling and hissed, "Reducto!"

The light fixture, which was a series of metal beams criss-crossed and holding several halogen lamps, was released from the ceiling and crashed down upon the unsuspecting Death Eaters. It hit one on the head as it came down, pinning the others beneath it. Harry saw a pool of crimson blood begin to pool around the head of the Death Eater who’d been struck. Harry’s stomach lurched at the sight.

He turned in alarm towards the photo booth and swung the curtain wide open. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine. You?"

"Yeah. We’ve got to get some help here. Most of these Muggles are dead," Harry said tonelessly.

"Harry! Ginny!" Ron shouted. "Fred’s hurt."

Harry spun around to face the ticket counter. He could see one of the twins leaning over the other. His heart started pounding in his chest. Ginny uttered a strangled cry and broke away from Harry, racing towards her brothers.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to control his panic. He had to make certain the Death Eaters were immobilized first.

He pointed his wand towards them and snarled, "Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus. Expelliarmus."

He caught two of the three wands as they came speeding towards him. The third Death Eater – Bellatrix – Disapparated from beneath the structure before Harry cast his last spell. Harry inched his way towards the other two. He looked down dispassionately at the first one – the one whose head had been struck – who was obviously dead. The other was thoroughly pinned beneath the light fixture and frantically trying to free himself. Without his wand, his efforts were futile.

Harry reached over and tugged off the mask, revealing a remarkably young face that was unknown to Harry. The young man glared at Harry and continued to struggle. Voldemort must be recruiting.

"There!" He heard a shout and looked up to see Hermione racing towards him with Bill and Abe on her heels. Relief swept over him in waves at seeing her safe and alive.

"Fred’s hurt," he said, pointing to where the others were huddled. He bent his knees and sat on his heels, staring at the dead Death Eater. He couldn’t bring himself to remove the mask. He didn’t want to know. When the final battle with Voldemort finally arrived…if he was unable to control the Curse of the Damned…would this be one of the spirits who would emerge? Harry had killed him. Maybe not directly with a spell, but he’d aimed at that light fixture, intending to stop them. He’d been directly responsible for this man’s death.

It took Harry a moment to realize that he was shaking. His vision was blurred, yet he couldn’t look away from the fallen man in front of him. He knew it was a male, but he couldn’t identify if he was old or young. He wondered if he had a family…if someone would mourn his loss. Harry swallowed painfully. He supposed this was how Ron felt after killing Draco Malfoy…maybe. Or maybe it was different, because Ron knew Malfoy.

Harry couldn’t shake the coldness that had seeped into his very soul. He’s dead; I killed him. He didn’t know how long he knelt there on the floor before he felt a gentle hand on his back.

Startled, he looked up to see Abe smiling gently. "Stand up, lad. We need to get you home. We’ll let the Ministry handle things from here. The others are waiting to activate the portkey."

Harry allowed Abe to pull him to his feet and dimly registered the presence of Aurors amongst the ruins of the arcade. He stumbled and would have fallen if it weren’t for Abe’s tight grip around his waist.

"The first one’s always the hardest, laddie," Abe whispered

Harry shuddered – the first one. This was only the beginning. Sooner or later, he would have to kill again – with the full knowledge of what it was he was doing. Harry felt bile rise in his throat and fought the urge to retch. There had to be more to life for him. This alone couldn’t be his destiny. He didn’t want to be a killer, and he never wanted to reach the point where he thought it was easy.

Abe’s arm was both strong and gentle resting across his shoulders, and he leaned in gratefully, allowing Abe to drag him towards his friends.

Chapter Twenty-Three: And the Mighty Will Fall

The clanking of swords echoed in the stillness of the Room of Requirement. Harry and Ron were both panting with exertion as they circled one another. Harry could feel the sweat rolling down his back, and it was distracting. They’d charmed the swords to ensure that they wouldn’t actually cut each other, but they wore their armor, anyway.

It had been several days since the attack at the arcade, and Ron and Harry had spent much of that time sparring. Harry needed an outlet for his pent-up anxieties, and Ron was only to happy to oblige him. As it turned out, there had been Death Eater attacks at malls all over Aberdeen and the surrounding area. Voldemort had known Harry was out, but not an exact location. Mad Eye suspected that they’d tried to trace the portkey, but only came up with a generalized area. There had been sixty-three Muggle deaths in all.

It was the Muggle deaths that were bothering Harry more than anything else. He did feel guilty for taking the life of one of Voldemort’s Death Eaters, and couldn’t help but wonder if the man was acting on his own accord or was forced to commit crimes while under the influence of the Imperius. Still, it wasn’t the first time Harry had been indirectly responsible for the death of one of Voldemort’s followers. The same thing had happened to Professor Quirrell during Harry’s first year. No, it was all the innocent deaths that were happening while Harry prepared for his final confrontation that were weighing heavily on his mind.

Harry had gone to bed straightaway without saying a word to anyone after they’d returned from the mall. He’d felt numb and simply wanted to retreat from everyone. Ron had followed him upstairs and insisted that he take some of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. He also said that he wasn’t about to let Harry enter into that dark hole of guilt from where he himself was just emerging. They’d work it out together.

Harry had been annoyed with Ron at first, but eventually was glad it was Ron and not Ginny who had followed him. He would have taken his anger out on her and then felt even guiltier about that. With Ron, he could snap all he wanted and Ron rarely took offense. Harry had been short and irritable with everyone since the attack, but the dueling really did help him relax. His desire to be alone and work things out in his head battled constantly with his friends’ desire to ensure that he didn’t isolate himself again.

"Are you ready to concede?" Ron asked, when Harry had been distracted in his musings.

Harry spun completely around in a circle, hooking Ron’s sword out of his hands with his own as he did. Ron’s sword hit the floor with a booming clang. "Checkmate," Harry said, grinning.

"Enjoy it," Ron said, with a smirk of his own. "That’s the only time you’ll get to actually say that to me."

Harry chuckled and pulled off his facemask. "Merlin, I’m knackered. What time is it, anyway?"

"Half three. The Hogwarts Express should be here within the next few hours. I can hardly wait to get to the feast," Ron said, as he began to take off his armor.

"Yeah, but that also means classes begin again tomorrow. I’ve enjoyed the Snape-free days."

"Yeah, but we’ve still had to see him at every meal, glaring at us. Talk about ruining perfectly good food," Ron said, grumbling.

"Have you heard from Fred?" Harry asked, placing the swords back in their sheaths.

"No, but I got an owl from George yesterday. He said they were fine and business was great. He thinks they may have started a fashion trend," Ron said, shaking his head.

Fred had been hit with an obscure Dark Magic curse that caused severe burns. Fortunately, it hadn’t been a direct hit. It had grazed his chest and the left side of his face, singeing all the hair off his eyebrow. Madam Pomfrey had healed the burns, but the eyebrow would have to grow back on its own. In sympathy and support for his brother, George had shaved his own right eyebrow so they were still a matching set. Mrs. Weasley had been furious with him for joking, but Fred thought it was hilarious.

"Good for them," Harry said, chuckling at the image in his head of the one-eyebrow twins as he turned off Abe’s stereo. Harry had picked up Abe’s habit of sparring to loud rock music.

"How are you doing, mate?" Ron asked, averting his eyes and trying to sound casual. "You really put me through my paces today."

Harry shrugged. "Sorry. I’m all right…just frustrated. I haven’t been able to talk with Professor Dumbledore since the attacks. I know he’s busy…but I want to know what’s going on."

Harry had spoken with the headmaster the day after the attack, but he hadn’t seen him since. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t even attended any of the meals, and Harry wondered if he’d be at the feast tonight.

"I know you’re frustrated, mate, but you don’t want to rush this, anyway," Ron said.

"Rush it? I don’t think rushing it is at all what we’ve been doing. I’m tired of sitting back and furthering my education while people are out there dying. I need to end this…and I’m still not certain how to do it," Harry said, jerking his work-out gear back into his bag with force. His voice had risen steadily until he’d shouted the last bit at Ron.

"Harry, you’re still shouldering too much of this yourself. The Order is all going to be with you. I’m going to be with you. You’re not in this alone," Ron said, his eyes gleaming fiercely.

"I know you all want to be there, Ron, but it’s not the same. I have to do this. If I fail – you’re all going to die," Harry said, his eyes glistening. Then, lowering his voice, he added more softly, "I can’t stand to think about it."

"Then don’t," Ginny said from the doorway, where she stood with Hermione and Neville. All three had pale faces, so Harry imagined they’d heard the whole conversation. He rubbed his forehead wearily.

"Don’t think about it," Ginny said more forcefully, crossing the room to stand beside him. "Harry, if it drives you mad, or makes you lose your focus, then think about something else. He’s trying to rattle you – don’t let him."

"She’s right, Harry," Hermione said. "Obviously, he found out you were going to be out of the castle but was uncertain where. What we have to be concerned with is where he got his information."

"She’s right," Ron said. "He knew you were going to be at a mall, because all the attacks took place in malls. So, who told him?"

"Snape knew where you’d be," Neville said darkly.

"Don’t be ridiculous," Hermione snapped. "Professor Snape is a member of the Order, and he knew exactly where you were going to be. If he’d given the information, Voldemort himself would have been at that arcade."

"Or he could have been trying to throw us off by not giving the exact location, but the general vicinity. That way, they could still wipe out a bunch of Muggles, and Snape wouldn’t blow his cover," Ron said.

"Honestly," Hermione huffed. "How many times have you suspected Snape only to be proven wrong? We’re missing something here."

"Well," Harry said slowly. "Abe arranged the portkey, but the same logic applies, he knew exactly where we were going."

"But he wasn’t with us when the attack happened," said Neville. "Do you suspect Abe, Harry?"

"No." Harry shook his head vehemently. "I’m just listing the possibilities. Wandering around aimlessly is just Abe’s style, but he really hadn’t gone very far from where we were. I really don’t think it was Abe or Cordelia. And I know it wasn’t any of you or the Weasleys, obviously."

"Who else?" Ron asked, easily dismissing the thought of anyone in his family being the spy. Percy hadn’t been there for Christmas, and Harry didn’t think that even Percy would go that far.

"I dunno. I suppose it could be anyone in the Order, but I can’t imagine whom. I mean, I know there are a lot of new members, but I don’t think anyone but our core group would have been trusted with the information. I don’t like to think of any of them being a spy, but I imagine my parents didn’t want to think it of Wormtail, either," Harry said quietly.

Ginny took Harry’s hand in her own. "Let’s head back to Gryffindor tower so you two can take showers before the others arrive. You stink."

"Sorry. You don’t think it’s sort of manly and athletic?" Harry asked, pretending he was going to put his sweaty arm around her shoulders.

"No!" Ginny shrieked, moving away from him quickly. "Shower first. Snogging later."

"Deal."

"You must be excited to see Luna again, Neville," Hermione said, ignoring Harry and Ginny completely.

Neville smiled faintly. "I suppose."

"What the matter, Neville?" Ginny asked. "Is anything wrong?"

"I dunno. She went to Bulgaria with her father after Christmas, but her letters have been strange. She sounds sort of distant and very peculiar."

"What’s strange about Luna being peculiar? I thought that was a Luna-standard. She’s so strange and peculiar on a regular basis, it would be hard to spot anything amiss," Ron said, closing the door behind them as they left the Room of Requirement.

The students returned to the castle, and classes resumed again. News from the outside world was not good. Death Eater attacks were not only growing, but they were also much more prominent and leaking into the Muggle world. Voldemort’s forces weren’t even trying to conceal the use of magic. It was as if he already felt invincible. The Ministry’s inept bumbling and attempts to conceal minor details only increased the population’s panic. Several students hadn’t even returned for spring term. Instead, their families had chosen to flee Britain entirely.

They’d only been back to classes for a week, and Harry was already buried under a mountain of homework. Every teacher seemed intent on ensuring their preparedness for the upcoming NEWTs. The only one who appeared to be fretting over their approach more than the teachers was Hermione.

"There’s only six months of school left before our entire Hogwarts education will be under examination. How can I possibly memorize seven years’ worth of information in only six months? We need to plan a revision table…"

And so it went. She and Ron had got on swimmingly over the holiday, but that didn’t absolve him from her wrath when he and Harry didn’t show what she deemed adequate concern for the NEWT deadline. She’d been nearly hysterical with their revision habits three times during just the first week back. Harry feared they were in for a rough term. Hermione had already set up a plan to color code their assignments, classifying each one on how likely the information was to appear on a NEWT.

In addition to all the essays and heavy practical work, there was Defense class to endure. As he’d warned them at the end of term, Snape had arranged for the classes to spar in mock duels against one another. The first inter-house challenge would take place the following day against the Slytherins. Harry was eager for the challenge and to test out some of the new spells that Abe had been teaching him. He knew he was antsy and itching for a fight, but he worked on his meditative exercises to try and control his temper.

Hermione never mentioned whether or not she’d officially broken things off with Terry Boot, but she spent considerably more time in the common room. Harry had noticed Terry in the library, sitting with Lisa Turpin, who gave Hermione a distinctly triumphant glare when they’d entered one evening. Hermione set her jaw, but refrained from commenting. She and Ron were back to bickering and saying things purposefully to set the other off. But there was a definite playful tone to it again, and Harry could tell they were both enjoying themselves. He also noticed how each of them backed down more easily, letting the other win on occasion. He felt as if things were almost back to normal, and it pleased him more than anything else had in a long time.

He hadn’t noticed it himself, but Ginny had pointed out how Neville was spending much more time with them in the common room than he had previously, as well.

It was the night before their first Defense challenge that they got the full story of what had been happening with Neville. Harry sat in the common room with Ginny, Ron and Hermione, looking over some defensive spells in preparation for the next day. Neville walked in and slumped wearily into a seat beside Ginny.

"All right, Neville?" she asked.

Neville was glassy-eyed and looked sort of dazed. He blinked and stared at Ginny silently.

"What’s wrong, Neville?" Hermione asked. She was obviously slightly annoyed by the interruption.

"Huh?" Neville asked vaguely.

"What’s wrong with you, Neville?" Ron demanded. "Have you and Luna been snogging again? The last time you were this out of it was the first time she stuck her tongue down your throat."

"Ron!" Hermione shouted.

"You ponce," Ginny said, smacking Ron on the arm.

"What?" Ron asked, rubbing the spot where Ginny had hit him.

"We broke up," Neville said at last.

"What?" all four of the other Gryffindors asked at once.

"We decided to go our separate ways," Neville said softly.

"What happened, Neville?" Ginny asked, laying a hand on his forearm.

Neville sighed deeply. "Well, we’ve been having a lot of disagreements lately. Then, over Christmas, Luna went to Bulgaria with her father and met a fortuneteller there. The fortuneteller told her that she was being stifled and needed to change the atmosphere around her. She said Luna was surrounded by bad karma, whatever that means."

Hermione had rolled her eyes the moment the word ‘fortuneteller’ was uttered. Ron followed suit at the notion of ‘changing the atmosphere’.

"Anyway," Neville said. "Luna decided the aura at Hogwarts is oppressive and decided it was because we all wear black robes. She’s started a society designed to free our spirits, and she wanted me to be the first member."

"And you didn’t want to be a member?" Harry asked. He had a mad desire to laugh out loud and fought desperately to conceal it. He didn’t want to hurt Neville’s feelings, but the image of what the expression on Neville's face must have been as Luna told him all this was priceless.

"She wanted me to wear hot pink robes, Harry," Neville said with a scowl.

Harry lost his battle with his amusement and sniggered into his hand. Ron laughed outright, while Ginny glared at them both.

"Did she break up with you because you wouldn’t wear the robes, or did you break up with her?" Ginny asked.

"I suppose it was sort of mutual," Neville said. "There was no way I was going to wear the robes, and she said that I was part of what was stifling her. She thought she needed a change, and I certainly don’t want to walk around the school trying to convince everyone to wear pink robes." Neville looked alarmed at the very prospect.

"She’s really starting a society to promote this idea?" Hermione asked.

Neville nodded. "She gets rather mad about a new idea sometimes," he said sheepishly.

"I can’t imagine anyone doing that," Ron said sarcastically. "Maybe she could band together with spew and get all the house elves to dress in pink tea cozies."

Harry thought he would choke, trying to hold in his laughter. He glanced worriedly at Ginny but saw she was struggling not to laugh, as well.

"Ron, it’s not spew, it’s S.P.E.W. You know that," Hermione said angrily.

Neville stood up. "I’m going to bed."

"Oh, Neville, no. I’m sorry; we’ll behave. Sit here with us for a while and look over these spells for tomorrow," Hermione said, horrified that she’d insulted him.

"No, it’s all right, Hermione. I really want to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

They all watched as Neville climbed the stairs. He held his head high, but his shoulders slumped.

"Poor bloke," Ron said. "It’s a miserable feeling."

"You would know," Hermione said tartly.

"So, now Harry, Hermione, and Luna have all started their own groups at Hogwarts," Ginny said. Harry knew she was simply trying to derail Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah," he replied. "I wonder how many other students have started their own organized groups here?"

"Most of the extracurricular activities now offered were all started by students at one point," Ron answered automatically.

Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed.

Ginny frowned. "How do you know that?"

Ron looked up and stared directly into Hermione’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, he said, "It’s on a list of activities in Hogwarts: A History."

Hermione blinked repeatedly. "You read Hogwarts: A History?" she asked, her lower lip trembling.

Ron swallowed. "I wanted to see what you got so worked up about," he said quietly.

"Oh, Ron."

"I’m sorry, Hermione. I know I acted like a complete prat. I’d really like-"

Ron never finished the sentence, because Hermione grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him against her for a searing kiss.

Harry sat watching them in stunned silence. He blinked and looked over at Ginny. He was surprised to find her sniffling and watching Ron and Hermione with a tremulous smile.

"I didn’t know he had it in him," she said tearfully.

Harry took her hand and led her away from the table. "Since they are obviously otherwise engaged, there’s no sense in letting the evening go to waste," he said, plopping on the couch and pulling her down on his lap. Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

They didn’t get anymore revising done that evening.

Harry entered the DADA classroom with a confident stride. Ron and Hermione followed a few paces behind, holding hands and staring at each other with googly eyes. Although Harry had been pleased to see them back together, he was growing irritated with their open affection. He and Ginny never acted this way in front of them. If he thought about it for a minute, he suspected Ron might disagree with that statement, but it was true, Harry thought sulkily.

He purposely sat next to Neville and left Ron and Hermione on their own. Neither seemed to notice the sleight, which only soured Harry’s mood further. His eyes scanned the classroom and noted how the Gryffindors sat on one side of the room and the seventh-year Slytherins who had joined them took the other. It reminded him of his Potions classes in previous years.

He knew he was in a foul mood, and he blamed it on the poor night’s sleep he’d had. He’d dreamt about the Chamber again – that same dream that he’d been having repeatedly about Ginny turning into Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets. In his dream, Voldemort would kill Ginny before he could do anything to stop him. He didn’t know why he was having this dream so often lately, but suspected he probably needed to talk about it. Talking about his other nightmares had helped alleviate them. He didn’t want to alarm Ginny with this one, however, so he’d kept it to himself.

As he considered his terrifying dream, Harry noticed Pansy Parkinson glaring at him through narrowed eyes. Her hard face twisted into a scowl, and she gripped her wand tightly. Harry knew if he lowered his Legilimency shield even a little bit that he’d pick up on her desire to best him in a duel. He thought it might be a good match. It was time to get this animosity out in the open once and for all. He didn’t want to antagonize her, when she was obviously grieving, but it wasn’t his fault Malfoy decided to go and join the Death Eaters, either.

Snape burst through the door and slammed it closed behind him. He strode up to the front of the room with his cape billowing.

"I’m not here to waste time on reiterating previously covered material. You should all be prepared for what we have planned today. The rules are simple – no Unforgiveables allowed. Other than that, anything goes," he said, smiling cruelly as Neville paled. His eyes raked all the students. "Our first duel will be between Millicent Bulstrode from Slytherin, and…" Snape paused, looking shrewdly at all the Gryffindors. "Ms. Granger from Gryffindor. We are all well aware of how you like to flaunt your knowledge of book material, Ms. Granger. Let’s see if you have any practical skills."

Harry clenched his jaw in annoyance. Snape knew damn well that Hermione could perform very well in practical lessons. The thought of performing without knowing beforehand what was going to happen alarmed her slightly, but she always managed to pull herself together. Snape had seen how Hermione paled while he was speaking and decided to call on her first.

It had been this way all year in Defense class. Snape really couldn’t fault the Gryffindors very much on their skills. The DA had trained them all well – they were all very advanced Defense students. So he’d settled for veiled barbs and insults, always trying to shake their confidence. He’d had some luck doing this with several of the students, Hermione – and particularly Neville – included.

Harry noticed that Ron’s ears had reddened when Snape berated Hermione. He hoped his friend would hold his temper. Snape would only make it worse on Hermione if Ron made a scene.

Hermione stood and walked confidently to the center of the room. She looked diminutive, standing next to Millicent’s wide girth. The two girls bowed to one another and assumed a dueling stance. Millicent fired a quick Stunning spell first that Hermione easily dodged.

Hermione fired several curses in rapid succession, one of which caused a wave of static electricity to cover Millicent. Small strands of her hair raised on end all over her, giving her a decidedly deranged appearance. At first, Harry thought this was a useless waste of time, but the sound of the static was audible enough for the entire class to hear it and appeared to distract Millicent. She kept wincing and holding her arm awkwardly, so as not to let her arms touch the rest of her body. As she struggled to focus, Hermione easily disarmed her.

Snape’s expression remained neutral, but by the clenching of his jaw Harry knew that he was seething. "That round goes to Ms. Granger, although a rather lackluster effort. Two points to Gryffindor."

Ron beamed at Hermione. "Snape looks like he’s in pain, having to do that. Nice one, Hermione."

Hermione glowed with pleasure.

The class proceeded through several other match-ups, with Snape awarding vastly more points to any Slytherin who won their match. The discrepancy in points was almost laughable, since the Gryffindors were by far the superior duelists. The old rivalry between the two Houses showed itself in force, and the duels grew nastier as the double class grew long. Seven students had already paid visits to Madam Pomfrey for minor cuts and abrasions before Harry’s turn finally arrived.

"Blaise Zabini against Harry Potter," Snape said, sneering.

Harry looked over at Blaise. The Slytherin quirked up one side of his mouth in what could almost pass for a smile. His dark blue eyes scanned the room and finally came to rest on Harry.

"Are you ready for this, Potter?" Blaise asked pleasantly.

Harry took a deep breath. He knew Blaise had been attending the DA meetings, so he was aware of what Harry could do. What Harry was counting on was the fact that Blaise didn’t know that Harry hadn’t taught the DA everything he had up his sleeve.

They bowed to one another and assumed their positions. In the DA, Harry always waited for his opponent to cast the first spell. He could read the laid back set of Blaise’s shoulders and knew instinctively that the Slytherin planned on waiting him out. Instead, Harry immediately fired a Jelly Legs Jinx that took Blaise unaware.

Giving his legs up as useless, Blaise rolled to the ground and sent several jinxes back towards Harry. Harry easily shielded himself, but in the time it took to cast the shield, Blaise had removed the jinx from his legs.

Blaise’s eyes had widened when Harry struck first, but he quickly adjusted his expectations. The two competitors circled each other, firing hexes, curses and jinxes at random. Both proved excellent at casting strong shields quickly, and soon they had lasted longer than any other pair.

The other students in the room watched intently, moving back each time that the combatants got close. The circle surrounding them had widened considerably. As they circled near the windows, Blaise tripped on a bag that Neville had left on the ground. He landed flat on his backside, momentarily dazed.

Harry waited a moment for Blaise to get back on his feet. As soon as he stood, Harry hissed, "Diffindo!" Blaise dodged the cutting curse, but it signaled a change in the battle. The simple, more harmless curses were done. Blaise responded with a powerful blasting curse that forced Harry to tuck and roll away. He got to his feet quickly and proceeded to blast a string of curses towards his opponent in unrelenting succession. As Blaise began to falter, Harry began to stalk towards him slowly.

Without warning, Harry felt something graze his shoulder blade from behind. He realized a moment later that it had been a Stinging Hex when sharp pain exploded along his shoulder, neck and arm. Keeping his wand trained on Blaise, he glanced quickly to the side. Pansy Parkinson stood there with her wand drawn.

"Aculeatus," she said again, firing another Stinging Hex, this time towards his knees.

Harry was ready for it this time. He leapt on top of an empty desk as the room exploded in protest.

"Silence," Snape said in a monotone. He obviously had no intention of stopping Pansy.

Harry remembered how Abe had unnerved him by grinning the entire time they sparred, and he decided to employ the tactic here. He used his incredible speed to fight two duels simultaneously. He’d done a similar exercise on the island with Remus, Tonks, and Bill. The only difference being that then he was only allowed to use his shield.

Blaise’s eyes had opened wide when Pansy fired her curse, and he looked towards Snape with expectation. When Snape refused to interfere, he said, "I can fight my own duel, Pansy."

"Potter can’t be trusted. Besides, he teaches that DA. He should know in a real duel it won’t always be one on one," Pansy said slyly, firing again towards Harry. She wasn’t the strongest spellcaster he’d ever battled, but the curses were all Dark, and most he only knew about from Abe and Jonathan.

Blaise glanced uncertainly at Harry.

"Don’t worry about her, Blaise," Harry said, his grin remaining in place. "I don’t plan on being distracted."

Blaise returned Harry’s grin and sent a blast of fire towards Harry. He easily ducked under the flame, and Ron doused it without ever taking his eyes off of Harry.

"I’m going to be more than a mere distraction, Potter," Pansy snarled. "Reducto!"

"Protego," Harry shouted. "Locomotor Mortis."

Harry’s Leg Locker Curse hit its mark, and Pansy went down in a heap. Harry turned back to Blaise who was using a desk to pull himself back to his feet. Harry aimed his wand at the desk. "Evanesco!"

The desk vanished, causing Blaise to crash to the floor. "Expelliarmus," Harry cried twice, aiming at each Pansy and Blaise. He turned to Snape, holding all three wands and was surprised to note the look of fury on his instructor’s face.

"That was the most abysmal display of a duel I have ever witnessed, Potter," he snarled.

"What?" Ron shouted. "He just beat the both of them."

"There should never have been a need to battle the two of them. Ms. Parkinson is correct in stating that you can not expect your opponent to play fair or to never be outnumbered. A lesson I would think you should have learned by this point, Potter. Your lack of foresight is unfortunate, although not unexpected. What is appalling is your insistence on playing the hero."

That phrase cut through Harry as it always did and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallowed to try to contain his rising fury.

"You should have ended this duel when Mr. Zabini tripped over the bag that Longbottom so foolishly left in the circle. Instead, you allowed your opponent to regain his footing. In an actual duel, this sense of fair play will get you killed. Ten points to Slytherin for Ms. Parkinson’s cleverness in backing up her classmate."

Harry gritted his teeth. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temple. He was irritated by Snape’s words even more sharply because they were true. He should have simply ended the duel when Blaise went down, but it hadn’t seemed fair at the time. He scanned the faces of the other students. All were staring at him expectantly, waiting to see what he was going to do. The anger on the faces of the Gryffindors was palpable, spurred on even further by the smugness of the Slytherins.

Harry took a deep breath. "You’re right. In a real duel, I should have taken Blaise out immediately. This is a classroom duel, however, and I thought the point was for all of us to learn something. I do know never to expect fair play from a Death Eater," he said, staring hard at Snape. The accusation was heavy in the air.

Snape nearly shook with fury. "Perhaps, Mr. Potter, you think the class would benefit from a demonstration of how a real duel is fought," he said silkily. "A real duel, rather than merely a classroom demonstration."

"You’re on," Harry replied.

"Clear these desks back to the wall and make a wider circle," Snape barked. "Mr. Longbottom, make certain to clear all of your belongings this time."

Harry walked over towards Blaise and extended his hand. Blaise stared at him a moment warily before grasping his hand firmly. Harry returned Blaise’s wand with a nod.

"You’re good, Potter. Draco always claimed that you cheated when you fought, but you’re fast…and fair," Blaise said.

Harry felt strangely bolstered by the compliment. If he and a Slytherin could actually appreciate each other for their differences – even learn to respect one another – perhaps there was hope for them all.

Pansy approached them to retrieve her wand with a look of complete and utter loathing.

Then again, maybe not.

"Enjoy your petty little victory now, Potter," she hissed, keeping her voice very low so only those in the immediate vicinity could hear her. "The Dark Lord is awaiting his time with you, and he’s going to make you look like the simpering little school boy you are. He’s going to curse you and then pull out your entrails to feed them to his pet while you’re still alive to watch it. That will be the dawn of a new age of wizard supremacy. And I hope I’m there to watch it."

Harry felt stunned by the venom of her words, but he fought hard not to show it. "You’ll understand if I have a different interpretation of how my life is going to go. Here’s your wand." Harry held the wand out to her.

She snatched it back and stalked away. Harry turned to find Snape watching him with unfathomable eyes.

"If you’re done with your little dramatics, do you suppose you could fit some class time into your busy schedule?" he asked.

Harry smirked. "My schedule is rather tight, but I think I’m free now."

Snape scowled. "You’re as arrogant as your father. Let’s see if you can duel any better than he."

The smile disappeared from Harry’s face as red-hot anger burned in his chest. How dare he? His eyes flashed dangerously as he got into position.

Snape fired first, a quick and hard bludgeoning curse that Harry deflected. Harry returned the same curse with equal strength. The two circled each other warily, each sending powerful, dangerous spells towards the other. It was much different from the duels he’d had with other students. He felt a line of sweat on his brow as he tuned out the stares of his classmates to focus only on Snape.

"Diffindo!"

"Reducto!"

Harry found he couldn’t both keep his shield engaged and use the power he needed to cast the spells. He had to settle for raising his shield only when he needed it. Before long, both he and his professor were covered in a variety of small cuts and bruises.

"Protego!" Harry hissed, getting a shield up just in time to block a powerful bone-breaking curse.

Harry used several of the more advanced curses that Abe had shown him, including one that enshrouded the area around Snape’s wand in frigid air. Each time Snape tried to cast a spell, chunks of ice would fall from his wand.

"Finite Incantatum," Snape snarled when he realized what Harry had done.

Snape transfigured one of the desks stacked up around the room into a wildcat that leapt at Harry over the screams of some of the girls in class. Harry instinctively raised his arm in defense.

"Expelliarmus," Snape said, and Harry felt his wand fly out of his hand. It flew directly into Snape’s waiting hand. The wildcat vanished mid-jump as Harry tucked and rolled out of the way.

He landed on the floor amidst the chunks of ice.

Oh, no, this isn’t going to end this way.

Harry picked up several chucks of the ice and began pelting Snape with them. In the blink of an eye, Harry was back on his feet and leaped towards Snape, grabbing his wand back with physical force that Snape clearly wasn’t expecting.

Surest way to stun a wizard was to use Muggle tactics. Abe had taught him that.

The duel began anew, both combatants fighting with a renewed sense of fury.

Snape was very good. He was thin and wiry – much like Harry – so he could move quickly. His spells were powerful, and he was relentless with his intensity. As the fight wore on, and Harry proved very adept at shielding himself from the curses, Snape began to use one of his best weapons – his words.

"Surprisingly, you have managed to retain a few things since second year, Potter. I don’t think it will help you in your desire for Auror training. I’m certain they’ll hire you simply because of your name. There are those who are easily swayed by a little fame…no matter how undeserving that fame may be. Of course, they’ll soon frown on your habit of getting your partners killed. You really don’t have a very good track record there, do you, Potter?"

Harry heard Hermione’s gasp as the fury took hold in his mind. Harry’s hands shook with power, as he began to fire spell after spell towards his professor. He could feel that surge of power rising from his hands and, for once, willingly allowed it to overtake him. The air began to crackle around him, and he vaguely registered his classmates shielding their eyes from a bright light. He moved so quickly that he wasn’t entirely certain that each spell came from his wand alone.

Snape was unable to withstand the overwhelming furor of Harry’s attack. His shield collapsed, and he crumpled to the floor. Harry kept firing, as if his brain hadn’t yet caught up to the speed of his hands. He felt as if another force was driving him…a power greater than he could control. It was only when Hermione’s sharp voice rang in his ear that he came back to awareness.

"Harry, stop!"

Ron grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back. His eyes were wide and panicked as he searched Harry’s face. "Bugger, Harry. Are you all right?"

Harry blinked several times, noting the shocked faces of his classmates. He turned to Snape’s crumpled form on the floor. The professor was unconscious. Harry turned wide, stunned eyes towards his friends.

"I…I…I didn’t mean…" He stopped, unable to continue. The overwhelming power that had come over him frightened him, and he needed a minute to absorb what had happened.

Taking a deep breath, he moved cautiously to where his teacher lay and knelt down beside him. This was the first time he’d allowed the power inside him to emerge completely. It might be childish, but he couldn’t think of anyone that he would have rather tested it upon than Snape. He knew that he hadn’t really hurt the man, and he had to admit – this small victory felt really good.

"Ennervate," he whispered.

Snape blinked his eyes open and sat up slowly, rubbing a spot on the back of his head.

Harry stared at him, waiting to see what the man would do. He was fairly certain he’d be spending the rest of his final year in detention.

It was worth it, he thought, fighting back a smirk.

He knew that if Snape tried any Legilimency now, he’d certainly pick up on Harry’s overwhelming urge to do a victory dance. Snape blinked and looked around for a moment. Harry could nearly feel the glee coming from Ron, who was standing behind him. He fought to keep his expression neutral as he stared at his longtime antagonist.

Snape surprised him, however, by shakily getting to his feet and nodding towards Harry.

"That is what a real duel looks like," he said to the class, ignoring Harry entirely. Still, it was the closest thing to a compliment that Harry had ever received from the man, and he was stunned. As Harry turned to collect his things and leave the room, he heard Snape call after him. "Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

Ron climbed quietly into his bed and arranged the bed hangings around him. All of his roommates were sleeping, judging from the sounds of snores and deep breathing that interrupted the silence of the dormitory. He and Hermione had abused her Head Girl power by arranging an unauthorized visit to the Room of Requirement well past curfew. It pleased him that Hermione would so blatantly break the rules for him, and he had certainly enjoyed their snog session. He’d really missed her. No one turned him on quite like his Hermione.

It had been a long and exhausting day, but well worth it to see the look on Snape’s face when Harry had bested him. That moment would go down as one of Ron’s all time favorites. He heard a muffled moan coming from Harry’s bed, and he froze for a moment to listen further. Harry wasn’t thrashing around, and no further sound came from the enclosed bed, so Ron laid down himself. If Harry were dreaming tonight, it should be good dreams, considering his victories today. Ron closed his eyes and very quickly drifted off to sleep.

Ron’s vision cleared slightly, and although the light was dim, he realized he was in some kind of huge cavern. It was made of stone and appeared enormous. The floor was wet, and the walls were covered with slime. The smell of mildew was overpowering; Ron wanted to cover his nose with his shirt but he didn’t think it would help.

As Ron’s vision grew accustomed to the darkness, he could distinguish stone pillars rising to the ceiling in the shape of serpents. A chill ran down his spine as he peered around at all the carvings of snakes throughout the chamber. He had an odd sense of déjà vu, but he couldn’t quite grasp why.

As he moved cautiously into the interior, he noticed an enormous skeleton of what appeared to be a giant serpent lying on the ground. A basilisk! With sickening clarity, Ron suddenly knew exactly where he was; he’d finally managed actually to enter the Chamber of Secrets.

Suddenly, a noise from behind startled him, and he spun around towards the entrance of the Chamber. Harry stood there, looking around the room wildly. He looked terrified, and his hair stood on end as he raced into the room.

"Harry," Ron shouted, relieved to see his friend. He was stunned when his voice carried no sound.

"Harry," he tried again. Still nothing.

Ron instantly realized he was trapped within Harry’s nightmare again. Why did this keep happening? The last time Harry had transferred his dream to Ron, it had involved Malfoy Manor. What happened in the Chamber of Secrets that Harry’s subconscious wanted Ron to see?

As Ron watched Harry’s frantic progress into the room, it suddenly occurred to him that Harry wasn’t a twelve-year-old kid. This was Harry as he appeared now. This couldn’t be a memory.

"Ginny," Harry yelled, racing towards the center of the room.

Ron spun around to face the spot where Harry was looking. There on the cold stone floor, face down at the foot of a statue of a wizard with a monkey’s face, lay his sister. Her hair was spread out around her like a fan, but she wasn’t moving.

Although physically Ron never moved from the spot he was standing, he was suddenly in the center of the Chamber, with Ginny lying at his feet. Harry reached him a moment later.

He could hear Harry’s frantic breathing as he knelt beside Ginny and turned her over. "Ginny," Harry cried. "Wake up. You have to wake up; we have to get out of here. Please don’t leave me, Ginny."

Harry shook her lifeless body repeatedly as he pleaded with her to awaken. Ron’s own heart clenched. He didn’t like this dream. What was happening? What happened to Ginny? Why was she here again?

Suddenly, Ginny began to turn her head, but her movement was so slow that it felt like time had slowed to a snail’s pace. She opened her eyes – dead, lifeless eyes with no warmth or sparkle. Ron jerked in horror, but he couldn’t move away.

"Why didn’t you come, Harry?" she sneered.

Harry shook his head, horror and remorse clearly visible in his eyes. "I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m so sorry."

"Sorry’s never good enough, is it, Potter?" Ginny hissed as her eyes turned a bright red, and her features contorted into a distinctly snakelike appearance. Ron could see it was Ginny, but it was also clearly Lord Voldemort speaking.

"So, here we are again, Potter."

"Let her go," Harry demanded, clearly enraged.

Ron shook himself from his dazed stupor and tried to force himself to wake. "Wake up, Harry", he pleaded. "I can’t if you don’t. Just wake up!"

Harry and the Ginny/Voldemort monster stared at each other with such venom and fury that the entire Chamber began to shake. Huge chunks of stone began to fall from the wall and the ceiling. Cracks appeared along the perimeter, and the room began to flood with vile, green murky water.

"You sodden bastard. You’re not going to take her, too. I won’t let you," Harry snarled.

"Ah, Potter – always the hero. You’re a fool to let her weaken you. Of course, successfully protecting the ones you love isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?" The creature laughed a depraved maniacal sort of laugh that Ron found terrifying.

"I’m going to make you pay for this," Harry said. "Let her go."

"What are you going to do to me without hurting your precious Ginny?" Ginny/Voldemort sneered. "What are you going to do if I do this?" Suddenly, a long, glistening sword appeared in its hand. The creature raised the sword, and before Harry could even move, he plunged it into Ginny’s chest.

Ginny gasped for breath as her features returned to normal, all traces of Voldemort disappearing from within her.

"Noooooooo," Harry’s scream echoed within the Chamber as he flung himself towards her. "Ginny. Oh, no, Ginny. Please, no. Don’t do this."

Ginny gently cupped Harry’s face before her eyes fluttered shut and her limp hand fell to the ground, completely still.

"Noooooooo," Harry screamed again. A pained, gut-wrenching scream that vibrated with agony.

"No," Ron cried, sinking to his own knees. He tried desperately to turn away so he wouldn’t be forced to stare at his sister’s dead body. He placed his hands over his ears to muffle the sound of Harry’s tears while his heart broke into a million pieces.

"Noooooooo," Harry and Ron’s dual cries echoed through the seventh year dormitory, causing all of the boys to jump and sit up in their beds in alarm.

Harry clutched his head in agony; burning waves of searing hot pain were radiating from his scar. His heart hammered in his chest, and he moaned slightly as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Neville asked, pulling back the hangings around Harry’s bed. Harry heard Dean do the same to Ron’s bed.

"What the devil are you two on about?" Seamus demanded nervously.

Ron sat up sharply, gasping for breath. "All right, Harry?" he asked shakily.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Were you with me?"

"Yeah."

"What are you two on about," Seamus demanded again, his voice tinged with hysteria.

Before Harry could reply, Ron took a deep gulp of air. He went rigid suddenly, before his eyes became unfocused and his head lolled to the side.

"Ron?" Harry asked, ignoring his own pain. Something is wrong.

Ron began to speak in a loud, harsh voice that didn’t sound at all like his own.

"THE TIME DRAWS NEAR…THE SERVANT SHALL BE SACRIFICIED TO PREPARE FOR A NEW DAWN…THE AGE OF DARKNESS OR LIGHT IS UPON US…THE ROLE OF THE SERVANT SHALL DECIDE, AND THE MIGHTY WILL FALL…HE MUST CHOOSE WISELY IF THE APPRENTICE SHALL REIGN."

Ron’s head fell forward as if he were asleep, and he grunted before his eyes snapped open.

"Why the hell are you all looking at me like that?" he demanded, staring wildly at the four pairs of eyes all watching him warily.

"Are you all right, Ron?" Neville asked tentatively. "What was all that about the servant and light or darkness?"

"Exactly what have you been drinking, and how come you didn’t share?" Seamus demanded.

"What are you on about?" Ron said. "We had nightmares, that’s all."

Harry shook his head. Alarm bells were going off in his head at a dizzying speed. He pulled himself up and got shakily to his feet. "No, Ron. That’s not all. We have to go see Professor Dumbledore. Now."

Chapter Twenty-Four: Summons

Harry and Ron sat on a comfortable sofa in Professor Dumbledore’s office, sipping hot chocolate with the headmaster. The candles were all burning brightly, and it gave the office a tremendous warmth and comfortable feeling. Harry wondered if Dumbledore ever slept; it seemed the office always felt this way, no matter what time of the night he arrived.

He and Ron had made their way slowly up to the headmaster’s office from Gryffindor tower while Harry explained to Ron exactly what Ron had done and said. Ron had no recollection whatsoever of saying any of the cryptic words. The last thing he remembered was waking from Harry’s horrific nightmare.

Professor Dumbledore had ushered them both inside his office and told them to make themselves comfortable.

"Now, which of you gentlemen would care to enlighten me on the reason for this late night visit?" he asked pleasantly.

"Um, I somehow got trapped in another one of Harry’s dreams," Ron said, his agitation making it hard for him to sit still.

Harry leaned back on the couch and let Ron begin the tale. His head still pounded painfully, and he was amazed that he’d even remained upright during the walk to Professor Dumbledore’s office. The hot chocolate was soothing, and he sipped it gratefully while listening to Ron’s voice.

"We were in the Chamber of Secrets. I walked around for awhile before Harry entered and screamed for Ginny. I swear she wasn’t there when I first looked, but when I turned around, she was lying on the floor…" Ron continued, describing the entire dream without interruption from Professor Dumbledore. When Ron came to the part where Voldemort possessed Ginny, Harry cringed. He could feel the headmaster’s eyes upon him, but he refused to open his own eyes to meet them.

"Well, we know, of course, that Miss Weasley lived through her ordeal. It does not sound as if any part of this dream is a memory. The last time this happened, it was a flashback of events that had already occurred. Is this true, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked when Ron finished speaking.

"I don’t think it was a memory, either," Ron interrupted, sloshing his hot chocolate over the side of his mug. "Harry and Ginny weren’t kids in this dream. They looked the same way they do now. I remember a similar dream he had once before this."

"It wasn’t a memory," Harry said tiredly without opening his eyes. "It’s a recurring dream."

"Recurring?" Ron asked sharply, a hint of panic in his voice. "What does that mean? Do you think he’s going to kill Ginny?"

"No!" Harry shouted, opening his eyes and glaring at Ron. "That is not going to happen. I won’t let it."

"Well, if you’re dreaming about my sister dying on a regular basis, Harry, then I want to know about it," Ron shouted. "I know you won’t let anything happen to her, but you can’t possibly be with her all the time. I want to protect her, too."

Harry’s anger deflated, and he was filled with an overwhelming despair. "I don’t know what it means," he groaned, sinking back onto the couch and running a hand through his already mussed-up hair. "I’ve been having that same dream since last year, but it’s got much more intense and frequent lately."

Ron stared anxiously at Harry for a moment before turning back to Professor Dumbledore. He shuffled his feet and opened his mouth several times before blurting out, "That wasn’t the only thing that happened, but I think Harry has to tell you the rest."

Professor Dumbledore’s blue eyes turned to Harry. It was only at this moment that Harry realized that Dumbledore’s eyes weren’t really sparkling. They were dull and tired, and it frightened Harry almost as much as the dream.

"Harry?" he prompted.

"I don’t know how, but I think Ron made a prophecy," Harry said.

"It couldn’t have been a prophecy," Ron said hotly. "It was just something weird; I’m no Seer. I don’t even pay attention in Divination. I make it all up as I go."

Professor Dumbledore smiled as he quirked his eyebrow, causing Ron to flush brightly when he realized what he’d just admitted.

"Er…" Ron began.

"I believe I am suffering from an excess build up of ear wax and missed your last statement," Professor Dumbledore said, waving away his explanations. "What makes you think there was a prophecy, Harry?"

"We were each sitting in our own beds right after the dream. Ron sort of went rigid, and he started speaking in a voice that didn’t sound at all like him. It reminded me of what happened with Professor Trelawney in third year," Harry said. "Afterwards, Ron didn’t remember any of it, but the rest of us all heard him. None of the rest of our dorm mates knew what was happening; Seamus thought we’d been drinking."

"What exactly did Mr. Weasley say in this voice?" Professor Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Harry rubbed his aching head furiously. "That’s the tricky part – I can’t remember exactly. My scar was throbbing, and it happened so fast. Something about it being almost time and a servant would make a sacrifice. The servant’s decision will determine if the apprentice reigns and the mighty will fall…something like that. Can you make anything from it? Do you have any idea who this servant or apprentice is supposed to be?"

Professor Dumbledore knitted his brow and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Harry, I am going to ask you to lower your Occlumency shield and allow me access to the memory. I need to see the full contents of the prophecy before I can begin to make any interpretation of it."

"It wasn’t a prophecy," Ron repeated adamantly. "It was just weird."

"Nevertheless, I think it might be beneficial if we could all have a look," he said, staring at Ron thoughtfully. Rising slowly from his chair, he walked towards a cabinet in the corner. He withdrew his pensieve from a shelf and laid it on a table in front of Ron and Harry.

"Harry, I believe you are familiar with how a pensieve works. This will not hurt a bit; you will find it rather calming, actually. I need you to lower your shield and concentrate fully on the memory of what happened in your dormitory."

Harry shut his eyes and did as he was asked. He felt the tip of Professor’s Dumbledore’s wand touch his head briefly. He experienced a brief, tugging sensation. He had the distinct impression of flowing water before his senses cleared once again. He opened his eyes in time to see Dumbledore placing a silver strand into the pensieve.

"Now, let us see what we can make of this," Professor Dumbledore said as he waved his wand above the pensieve. A cloudy mist rose above it, the figures within undistinguishable for a moment before finally forming into a picture of the seventh-year dormitory.

Ron’s surreal image repeated the words in that eerie voice:

"THE TIME DRAWS NEAR…THE SERVANT SHALL BE SACRIFICIED TO PREPARE FOR A NEW DAWN…THE AGE OF DARKNESS OR LIGHT IS UPON US… THE ROLE OF THE SERVANT SHALL DECIDE AND THE MIGHTY WILL FALL …HE MUST CHOOSE WISELY IF THE APPRENTICE SHALL REIGN."

Then, the mist became cloudy once again and resettled within the pensieve.

"Bloody Hell," Ron said, breaking the silence. "What was that? I don’t remember saying any of that. How can I say something when I don’t even know what I’m talking about?"

Harry glanced towards Professor Dumbledore, who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What do you think it means?" he asked.

"I fear our time is running out." Dumbledore sighed wearily.

"Obviously, but we’ve known that for a while now," Harry said.

Dumbledore looked up sharply and gave Harry a piercing look. "What have we known?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "That the time was drawing near. I’m assuming it means the time I’ll have to face Voldemort; it’ll be soon. We knew it would happen this year."

Dumbledore ran a hand across his eyes. "Are you certain?"

Harry felt confused. Although no one had ever claimed the final battle would take place this year, he’d always just known it. He felt it. He had assumed everyone did.

"I…I mean…yes, I’m certain. I can feel it," Harry said.

"Very well. I believe that you are the apprentice, Harry. The identity of the servant is less clear. Something this servant will do shall determine the outcome of the battle, but I am stumped at the moment, trying to figure out what it means. I shall need to think on it. We all need a good night’s rest. With clear heads, we can work out the mystery in the morning."

"What do you think it means by sacrifice? It sounds like this servant has to make a sacrifice," Harry said, feeling a panic bubbling inside him. Not again, please, not again.

"Harry, do not alarm yourself yet. Prophecies are tricky things, and some Unspeakables spend a lifetime studying them. Fortunately for us, we have our own expert right here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, laying a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you’re not referring to Sybil Trelawney."

Dumbledore smiled in amusement. "Alas, no. I was referring to Firenze. Centaurs are expert at deciphering prophecies. In fact, I want Mr. Weasley to have a discussion with Firenze on the nature of this vision, anyway."

"Me? I can’t tell him anything; I don’t even remember saying those things," Ron said. He’d sat on the couch in a numb state of disbelief after hearing the prophecy, but now his panic was returning in force.

"Nonetheless, you did make a prophecy. I don’t recall any Seer blood in the Weasley or Prewett family lines. Has anything like this ever happened to you before, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked.

Ron jumped to his feet. "No! I’m not a Seer. This is ridiculous. Tell him, Harry," Ron said, looking at Harry desperately.

Harry frowned in consideration. "Is that why Ron picks up on my dreams? No one else has ever done that. I know you said that it was my subconscious reaching out, but could it be why it was Ron who picked up on it?"

Ron looked at Harry with a mixture of incredulity and betrayal. "Well, that never happened until this year, either. I’m no Seer! I think we’ve all gone mad."

Professor Dumbledore rubbed his chin. "Perhaps it has something to do with your experience with the brain in the Department of Mysteries. You may have had latent abilities that have been brought forth."

Ron opened his mouth several times without speaking. Finally, he flopped back into his chair muttering, "Bloody Hell. I’m no Seer. Hermione will straighten all this out"

"Do not distress yourself now, Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, resting his hand on Ron’s slumped shoulder. Ron did appear to calm under Dumbledore’s touch. "I will speak to Firenze, and he will be in touch with you tomorrow. Harry, I would like you to come see me tomorrow evening after dinner. I want to test your Occlumency and Legilimency shields to see if I can discover a weak spot that Voldemort is using. You did say your scar was hurting when you awoke."

"Yeah. It was…it’s still kind of burning, actually," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. His thoughts and emotion were so jumbled and confused that he thought it would take more than a single evening to sort them all. Fawkes soared across the room to rest on Harry’s shoulder. Harry scratched the phoenix’s head absently while Fawkes tilled a few soothing notes.

"All right. That is enough for tonight. I’ll be in touch with both of you tomorrow," Professor Dumbledore said, rising from his chair and putting an end to the conversation.

After dinner, Harry sat in the common room, watching the clock impatiently while awaiting his meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Ginny had gone to her Animagus training with Professor McGonagall, and Ron had left right from dinner to meet with Firenze. Hermione and Neville had gone to the library to work on homework, which left Harry alone in the common room, staring at the fire.

His thoughts mulled about in his head at lightening speed, and it was making him nauseous. The idea that someone else would have to sacrifice his or her life for him terrified him. Too many people had done that already, and he didn’t think he could take it again. Harry lowered his head into his hands and tugged at his hair until it was standing on end. He and Ron had only told the girls that Ron had taken part in another one of Harry’s nightmares, but not the exact nature of the nightmare, or anything about the prophecy. Knowing how Hermione felt about Divination, Ron didn’t want to say anything about the Seer stuff until he’d spoken with Firenze. Harry simply didn’t want to talk about it at all until he had some answers.

"All right, Harry?" Neville asked from behind, startling him.

Harry turned to see Neville staring at him in concern. "Oh, hi, Neville. I thought you went to the library with Hermione."

Neville’s cheeks flamed, and he stared intently at the floor. "Um…no. I’m not going to the library."

Harry furrowed his brow. Neville was obviously heading for the portrait hole, but he seemed rather reticent to reveal his plans. Harry wasn’t certain if he should ask or not. Ginny would have just come right out and asked where he was going, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to do that. Neville would have said where he was going if he’d wanted to share.

"All right, then. Well…have fun," Harry said lamely.

"Yeah," Neville said and quickly climbed out the portrait hole.

Harry stared at the closed portrait hole for several minutes, pondering Neville’s hasty departure. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep after all the excitement the night before, and his exhaustion was catching up to him.

Standing up and stretching his legs, he decided to begin his trek towards Dumbledore’s office. Better to arrive early than sit here and miss the meeting entirely because he fell asleep.

When he rode the moving staircase up to Dumbledore’s office, he found the headmaster awaiting him at the top.

"Ah, Harry, you have arrived. Come in and have a seat; we’ve a lot to discuss," he said, guiding Harry into the office.

"What have you deciphered from Ron’s prophecy?" Harry asked without any preamble. His anxiety had made his heart rate speed up the moment he’d entered the office.

Dumbledore smiled as he handed Harry a cup of hot chocolate. He sat in a chair facing him and began arranging the chess pieces on a board between them. Harry automatically began doing the same with the pieces on his side of the board. He and Dumbledore had played several times before while Harry had been learning Occlumency. Professor Dumbledore had him study the chessboard in order to clear his mind.

"I have shown Firenze the pensieve memory, and he concurs with my first judgement that you are the apprentice, Harry," Dumbledore said as he made the first move.

"But…why? Does it mean I’m Abe’s apprentice?"

"It could be. Or it might mean Jonathan’s apprentice, or mine, or Remus’s…or magic’s in general. You are still learning, and it is your destiny to decide if light or dark shall reign. As for the servant and the sacrifice…the possibilities are still too numerous to…" Dumbledore was seized by a fit of coughing. When he’d finished and caught his breath, he smiled tiredly at Harry before moving his bishop to claim Harry’s rook.

"Are you well, sir?" Harry asked timidly, watching his piece being dragged from the board.

"As well as can be expected for someone who is 157 years of age. I am old, Harry, and my body is growing weary."

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm. He looked up from the chessboard. "But you’ll be all right, won’t you?"

"I am not telling you this to alarm you, Harry. I am not planning on departing this world anytime soon. I still have some unfinished business to attend, and I have every intention of seeing you through your ordeal. However…there are some things I would like to have settled between us before either of us discovers that it is too late."

Harry’s heart pounded within his chest, and he felt a Bludger-sized lump lodged in his throat. He knew that he wished he’d had the time to talk with Sirius and Jonathan before he lost them, but wasn’t certain if he could actually sit and calmly discuss Dumbledore’s death. Then again, it could be his own death that they were discussing. With the final battle looming, it was equally possible that it would be Harry who would die first. Steeling his resolve, he nodded for Professor Dumbledore to continue.

"Do not look so alarmed, Harry. Death is part of the natural circle of life. Unfortunately, all of your experiences with losing someone to death have been sudden and traumatic and tragically unexpected. But that is not usually the way. I look on death as my next great adventure, and I am eager for the challenge. My body is old and tired, and I’ve lived a full and happy life. I am ready to move forward. This is how it is supposed to be. You only know the heartache of being left behind, and I don’t want you to feel that way for me. Grieve, share your sorrow, but don’t let it consume you. Know that I was prepared and more than ready to go," Dumbledore said, smiling gently.

Harry blinked several times to clear his glassy eyes, but remained silent.

"When I see so many of your loved ones beyond the veil, I will tell them how extraordinary you are. Harry, you are a powerful wizard in your own right, and that has nothing to do with Tom. You are as strong with the light as he is with the dark. What do you know about the nature of magic?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry was caught off guard by the abrupt turn in the conversation. His mind still struggled with the idea of losing Dumbledore, and he felt that familiar numbness seeping into his soul. He welcomed it; he didn’t want to feel right now. "Sir?" he asked with a quavering voice.

"Magic surrounds us – it is in the air we breathe, in the earth where we walk, in the light we see, and in the water we drink. It is a living thing, as natural as the elements themselves. Not even a powerful wizard can control the elements; they cannot be controlled, as they are all equal to magic. They are a natural force and are unpredictable. There are those of us who have learned to influence the elements…to bend them to our will, but it is never an exact thing. A wizard might call upon a bolt of lightening to strike, but he can’t control the wind that would cause the spread of fire once it had done so. Any kind of attempt at using powerful magic has a cost and drains the wizard of some power. You experienced this at the end of last term.

"There are a very few wizards whose magic can be enhanced through the use of a familiar. This can aid them in combating the drain of one’s magical reserves. Magical creatures can never be owned as pets, as some would like to believe. They choose their companions and aid them as they see fit."

"Fawkes?" Harry asked as he captured Dumbledore’s knight.

"Yes, Fawkes is my familiar, and some of my power is derived directly from him. Fawkes values loyalty above all else...that is why I believe he has chosen you as his next companion."

Harry’s head shot up. "Me? No. Fawkes hasn’t chosen me. Why would you think that?"

"Yes, Harry – you. When Fawkes answered your plea in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago, he chose you," Dumbledore said gently, smiling at the gobsmacked expression on Harry’s face.

"But…but…I don’t want him to do that. Not if it means you’ll have to die," Harry said, feeling a knife twisting in his heart. He may have had his own problems with Dumbledore in the past few years, but he didn’t want to lose him. He took several deep breaths and willed the numbness to settle back over his heart.

"That is inevitable for all of us, Harry. As my own mortality looms, I have been doing a great deal of thinking about my life and the choices I have made. My one, greatest regret is placing you with the Dursleys all those years ago. If there were one thing I could go back and undo, that would be it," Dumbledore said sadly, the regret evident on his face.

Harry shook his head. "It doesn’t matter now."

"It does matter; you matter, Harry. You always have, and I regret my part in making you feel as if you don’t. That night that your parents were murdered was one of the worst in my entire life. I cared a great deal for your parents and had truly done everything within my power to keep them safe. My best obviously wasn’t good enough. I wish that I had insisted that I be their Secret Keeper."

"Why didn’t you?" Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.

"I offered, but your father insisted on Sirius. They were like brothers, and he knew he could trust Sirius with his life. More importantly, he knew he could trust him with your life, Harry. You meant the world to James. His eyes would light up with joy whenever you were in the room. His pride and adoration were as plain as the nose on his face."

Harry’s vision blurred, as he wished desperately for the chance to have known his father.

"I was fond of Sirius, but I thought he was reckless and impulsive, and not a good choice for their Secret Keeper. I warned your father that Sirius would be the first one suspected of being his Secret Keeper. I’ve often wondered if that conversation was the reason Sirius and Peter switched places," Dumbledore said, his eyes glazed and distant.

"So…you believed that Sirius had been the one to betray them?" Harry asked. He’d often thought about it; Dumbledore always appeared to know everything.

Dumbledore sighed wearily, his gaze lost in the past. "At the time, things were so chaotic and confusing. I didn’t have the luxury of time to look further into why Sirius would betray your parents. The attacks on the Longbottoms happened shortly after Sirius’s apparent murder spree, and my attention was diverted. Sirius had already been sent to Azkaban by the time I thought of him again. I was angry – angry at him for his betrayal, angry at myself for not insisting that I take the role of Secret Keeper, angry in general at having the lives of so many on my shoulders."

Harry nodded, knowing that feeling well. He often felt the need to lash out at the unfairness of it all, but was never certain where to direct that anger.

"You must remember, at the time the war was not going well for us. Voldemort had been at the height of his power and times were dark. There didn’t seem to be much hope that the wizarding world would be able to continue existing, as we knew it. After the attack on your parents, the wizarding world was overcome with joy, and everyone wanted to celebrate, rather than concentrate on any of the darkness. I knew that Voldemort was not gone forever, and I had to act quickly. I knew that your mother had a sister in the Muggle world. I thought that by placing you with her that you would not only be removed from the eyes of a public who was touting you as its hero, but also from the disgruntled Death Eaters who were on a rampage, trying to figure out what had happened to Voldemort.

"I knew Lily and Petunia were not close, but Petunia had a child the same age as you, and I thought, in time, she’d learn to not only accept you, but love you, as well. You were only a baby; I didn’t think she’d hold the difficulties she had with your mother against you. Alas, it seems a mistake I was doomed to make again and again. I repeated the same error in judgement years later, when I asked Severus to instruct you in Occlumency. I thought he could move past his hatred of your father."

"So, you left me on the doorstep and just hoped she’d take me inside? What if she’d sent me to an orphanage? How would you have known?" Harry asked, feeling some of his long-buried anger over his treatment surfacing. A part of him suspected that his life might have been better if Petunia had simply dropped him at an orphanage.

"I left a note with you in the basket, explaining what had happened and how you needed protection, and, in turn, how you could protect them. She brought you inside her home, thus accepting the choice to raise you," Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes completely dimmed.

"But…it was ten years. Why didn’t you ever check on me?" Harry’s throat felt extremely raw, as if he’d screamed the words rather than whispered them.

Dumbledore’s eyes filled, and he blinked back tears. "I had Arabella move into the neighborhood to keep a watch on you. I was dismayed by her reports on how they treated you. I knew that your cousin bullied you, but families often go through a certain pecking order. From the outside, it didn’t appear extreme, and we didn’t know all that was going on behind closed doors. That letter was a magically binding contract, and my part of the agreement was that I wouldn’t interfere with their lives unless you were in mortal danger until the time arrived for your magical education to begin."

"What about Remus? Why couldn’t I have gone to live with him? Why didn’t he visit me?" Harry asked angrily. Now that this can of worms had been opened, he was determined to have his questions answered.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Remus was in no condition to care for a child at that time, Harry. He went through a bit of an emotional breakdown. His friends were his only family, and he’d just lost three of them by the hand of the fourth, or so we believed. Even if he had been in a state to care for you, the Ministry would have never allowed it, because of his werewolf status. They would have taken control of your custody and paraded you around like a trophy, not a little boy. I had to act quickly and place you somewhere that they couldn’t find legal objection. Family always comes first under wizarding law."

Harry’s eyes prickled; the numbness refused to return, and his heart simply ached for what could have been. He’d had enough of this. What was done was done, and no matter how badly he wished for a different answer, he wasn’t going to get one, because the past could not be changed. Dumbledore admitted he’d make a mistake and wished it could have happened differently. What more could he ask from him? If Harry couldn’t move past this, he’d be no better than Snape.

"It’s all right, sir. I survived, and I don’t fancy being your biggest regret."

Dumbledore chuckled and moved his castle. "In fairness, if we are being totally open and honest with one another, there is one more thing I need to discuss with you."

Harry braced himself. He didn’t like the tone of Dumbledore’s voice. "What is it?"

"Ms. Granger found a book on Old Magic during a recent Hogsmeade weekend. She discovered a spell that involves transference of power through a Legilimens. Like most ancient magic, the spell works on emotion. The protective love felt for someone can be cast to destroy a threat to that love. Your friends have been working on learning the spell. Their feelings for you are strong, and they can help you. They want to do their part."

"No! No more sacrifices. What if this prophecy means one of them is the sacrifice with this spell? I won’t do it," Harry said hotly. Damn! They’ve been keeping secrets from me again.

"I understand your concern, Harry, but you do not have a choice. This is something they have chosen to do for you. They are serving a part in this war, the same way you are. You cannot deny them that right."

Harry felt sick. Absently and without really realizing what he was doing, he moved his queen to take Dumbledore’s king. "Checkmate," he whispered.

Dumbledore’s eyes widened in surprise. "Ah, it would appear that I am not as good as I used to be. Well done, Harry."

Harry didn’t know why actually winning a game of chess should make him want to cry.

Dumbledore placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Before we retire for the evening, I want you to know how proud I am of you. You have consistently amazed me with the way you handle the many burdens placed upon your young shoulders from the first day you arrived here. I may have not always had the right answer or made the best decision, but I’ve always had your best interests at heart. I could not be prouder of you if you were my own. No matter what the future may bring us, Harry, I want you to know that I love you, and that I’ve done my best to try to care for you."

Harry swallowed painfully, feeling his defensive walls crumbling. Dumbledore loves me. There was a time several years ago that he would have given anything to hear those words from him, but he probably wouldn’t have accepted them at that time, either. He’d been so angry and bitterly disappointed in the man. In truth, he’d felt abandoned and utterly rejected.

It was Ginny who showed him what love was and how to recognize it – and also that loving someone didn’t always mean having the right answers. His emotions towards his aged headmaster were complex and powerful, but through it all, he did know that he felt the same way – and he had for a long time. "I know, sir; I love you, too."

Dumbledore pulled Harry into a one armed embrace and patted him on the back. Harry allowed himself to be held for a moment, feeling a warmth and security he’d never known fill his very soul. As he relaxed into Dumbledore’s hug, he allowed his Occlumency shield to drop and found himself inside Dumbledore’s mind, watching images of himself during his years at Hogwarts. Little glimpses of moments in time – some that he’d already forgotten – and had never realized Dumbledore had witnessed. He felt Dumbledore’s love and admiration, along with his overriding sadness over the fact that he thought Harry looked so very young, but had such a weary old soul.

While Harry struggled to conceal his trembling shoulders and pull back from Dumbledore’s mind, he felt as if Dumbledore was filling him with a healing energy – much the same as Fawkes’s tears. Harry pulled back and smiled wobbly before he turned and hurried from the room.

Once outside the door to Professor Dumbledore’s office, he rested his head on the wood and breathed heavily, fighting the heaviness in his chest. He felt so much pressure to defeat Voldemort, since the only way he could ensure that all those he cared about could live was to beat him. Then, he realized that no matter what he did, or what the outcome of the final battle would be, Dumbledore was going to die, anyway, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Despite everything he’d ever been up against, everything he was still up against – he’d never felt more powerless in his life. His eyes stung as he clenched his teeth and hated the unfairness of it all.

Harry returned to the common room late that evening with a very heavy heart. He’d spent some time wandering the hallways before going back to Gryffindor tower, trying to get his thoughts in order. He expected to be caught by Filch, but he never ran into anyone. The conversation in Dumbledore’s office played again and again in his mind.

It suddenly, and for the first time, dawned on Harry what an incredible burden was placed on Professor Dumbledore’s shoulders. Everyone looked to him for guidance and answers, yet he was the first one they turned on when things went wrong.

Harry’s relationship with the headmaster had been strained over the past two years, but Harry thought things might be all right now. He’d had a chance to say some things that he never would have freely admitted on his own. He’d always wished he’d told Sirius how much he loved him before it was too late. He wished he’d have demanded some answers from Aunt Petunia about his mum. He wished he’d taken the time to really thank Jonathan for giving up his chosen exile to come and train Harry. That decision had cost Jonathan his own life. He wished he’d told Charlie how honored he felt to be included amongst the Weasley brothers.

There would never be time to say any of those things to the others, but with Professor Dumbledore – he’d made his peace. Somehow, it made the heavy burden on Harry’s shoulders a little lighter.

When he entered the common room, feeling thoroughly exhausted and emotionally drained, he found Ginny sitting alone by the fire. She appeared to be trying to rip all the hair from her head. He walked over to her and sank down on the couch beside her, wanting nothing more than to rest his weary head on her lap.

"Hey, Ginny," he said.

Ginny glanced at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Hi, Harry," she said, sniffling.

Harry suddenly felt much more awake. "What happened? What’s wrong?"

The dam Ginny had been holding back suddenly burst, and she launched herself into his arms, crying in misery.

Harry’s alarm spiraled to a near panic. He grabbed her shoulders roughly and pulled her back so he could see her face. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I c-can’t d-do it," she wailed.

Harry blinked in confusion, his panic settling into the pit of his stomach. "Can’t do it?" he repeated. "Can’t do what?"

"I’ve spent months on m-my Animagus t-training, and I haven’t got anywhere. I’m s-sorry," she said, hiccuping.

Harry let his breath out through his nose in annoyance. He was tired and overwhelmed, and she’d just scared the life out of him. "Animagus training, Ginny? That’s what you’re on about? I thought someone had died," he snarled.

Ginny’s stopped crying and wiped furiously at her eyes. He recognized the familiar signs of the Weasley temper rising as her mouth set in a thin line. "I’m so sorry to bother you with my trivial concerns, then. How silly of me to think you’d be willing to listen," she spat.

Harry’s own temper had yet to be diffused. "Of course I’m willing to listen to you, Ginny, but I’ve just spent the entire evening talking about death and curses and sacrifices. Then I walk back here to find you nearly hysterical. What was I supposed to think? You scared me." His instinct was to storm from the room and away from her, but he fought it. If she wanted a row, he was itching for one.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. He watched as she twitched her lips from side to side. He recognized this as a sign that she was considering what he’d said. "I’m sorry I scared you," she said at last, her shoulders slumping. "It’s just…the closer we get to all of this, the more anxious I become."

Harry sighed and felt his anger deflating like a popped balloon. "I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s been a long day, and I didn’t sleep well last night. What happened with your training?"

Ginny sighed and let her head drop back on the couch. She stared up at the ceiling and said, "Professor McGonagall wants me to take a break. She says I’m not ready. She said I could try again when I was a bit older and not so distracted."

"But…she does think you’ll be able to do it one day?" Harry asked.

"It’s not like there’s a test that will tell you if you’re able to do it or not, Harry. It simply depends on your magical ability. I’ve always done fairly well in Transfiguration, which is why Professor McGonagall let me in her class with only an A on my OWL. It’s not a common skill, because it takes a great deal of time and effort. I suspect that there are a lot more unregistered Animagi than registered ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of the Death Eaters were unregistered," Ginny said.

"You’re probably right. I know of five Animagi, and only one of them is registered," Harry said. His dad, Sirius, Wormtail and Rita Skeeter were all unregistered; only Professor McGonagall’s name appeared on the Ministry registration list. "Don’t worry about it, Ginny. After school is over, you can try again."

"I know…I just wanted to be special," she said softly.

Harry turned and pulled her into his arms. "What? Of course you’re special, Ginny. You don’t need to be an Animagus to be special."

Ginny shook her head. "It’s just…sometimes I feel so useless. You’re this powerful wizard who could make a Patronus at thirteen. You lead the Defense Association and are preparing to save the entire wizarding world from a madman. Hermione is the brightest witch in her year. Everyone looks to her for answers. She found the spell that might help you succeed. Ron sacrificed himself in your first year, because he knew you had to go on. He killed Malfoy to protect you last year, and now he’s picking up on your dreams…

"You’re surrounded by specialness. Then there’s me – whose greatest claim to fame is once being stupid enough to trust a book and winding up getting possessed by a memory of the Dark Lord himself. I wanted to do something that could help."

Harry stared at Ginny incredulously. "Ginny…is that what you really think? I’ve been fortunate enough to manage to surround myself with the greatest friends alive. I can never hope to repay Ron and Hermione for everything they’ve done for me. But you…you are the most special of all. I didn’t even know what love was before I met you. I wasn’t a whole person. It was because you loved me that I even survived the duel with Voldemort last year. It was your love for me, and mine for you, that showed me how to defeat him. Without you, I never would have tapped into this ‘power he knows not’. Don’t ever doubt that. I don’t need an Animgus for a girlfriend; I just need you.

"Ginny, if I’m able to defeat Voldemort, it’ll be because of you. You’ve made me the man I am today. I don’t know how many times I can keep telling you that to make you believe it."

"I want to do something, Harry. I can’t stand waiting on the sidelines and watching you suffer," Ginny said, her voice muffled by Harry’s shoulder.

"Do this, then," he said, smoothing back the hair from her face and brushing her lips with his own. "This is what I need, Ginny. I need to be reminded of what I’m fighting for." He pulled her into a passionate embrace and kissed her soundly. She responded instantly, winding her arms around his neck and twisting her fingers in his hair.

Things heated up quickly as they both fell back to lie alongside each other on the couch. He untucked the blouse from her school uniform to let his hands touch the warm, velvety soft skin on her back. Ginny moaned her encouragement, spurring him on.

"Hem, hem," Ron’s voice sounded from behind them.

Harry and Ginny sprang apart to see Ron and Hermione entering through the portrait hole. Ginny sloppily tucked her blouse back into her skirt while Harry struggled to control his ragged breath.

"You’re timing hasn’t improved any," he said grumpily, running a hand through his hair, which was sticking up even more than it normally did.

"Oh, I think my timing is just fine," Ron said, scowling at both of them as he took a seat on the couch facing them.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. "Exactly where have you two been until this hour? I know you didn’t have rounds tonight."

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink as Ron stuttered, "We…we..er…we had some work to do."

Harry turned towards Hermione. "That reminds me – Professor Dumbledore filled me in on some things that have been going on around here lately. You’ve been holding out on me."

Hermione flushed guiltily but raised her chin in defiance. "We knew you’d never agree, Harry. But the spell will work, and we are determined to help."

"It will leave you defenseless."

"Only until you destroy him."

"But no one knows how long that could take! What if there are other Death Eaters surrounding us at the time?"

"Then we’ll have to trust the rest of the DA to defend us as well as you while we channel our power. Only those of us who love you can do this, Harry. Ron, Ginny, and I are the strongest connections you have. You have to trust us on this."

"I don’t have to like it," he said, rubbing his eyes again. "I can’t handle another sacrifice."

Ron looked up sharply and caught Harry’s gaze. The exchange was brief, but Hermione noticed it.

"Sacrifice? What sacrifice? What’s going on that you’re not telling us?" she asked. "Why did Professor Dumbledore want to see you again? Why did he tell you about this spell now?"

"Do you want to tell them, or should I?" Harry asked Ron.

"Tell us what?" asked Ginny. She turned to scowl at Harry. "I knew you were hiding something."

"You start," Ron said glumly.

"Last night…after Ron and I shared the dream…er…Ron sort of made a prophecy," Harry said.

Hermione blinked and stared at them blankly.

"A prophecy?" Ginny asked slowly. "You mean…like a Seer?"

"Don’t be ridiculous," Hermione snapped. "Ron’s not a Seer. The entire art of Divination is extremely wooly to begin with. I know there are real prophecies, obviously, but the idea of having two legitimate Seers here at Hogwarts is rather dodgy."

"I kept telling them I wasn’t a Seer," Ron said, "but Dumbledore sent me to talk with Firenze, anyway."

"Firenze? Professor Dumbledore sent you to see Firenze?" Hermione asked.

Ginny had risen from her seat next to Harry and walked over the water pitcher by the window. Harry stared at her legs showing beneath the skirt of her school uniform as she walked. They were thin, but shapely, and he couldn’t help being distracted when the skirt rose as she bent over to retrieve a cup she had dropped.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, forcing Harry to focus again.

"What? Sorry, I drifted."

"Yeah, I can see where you were drifting," Ron grumbled. "I said Firenze thinks I might actually have some natural ability. He had me take a couple of tests, but I couldn’t make heads or tails from what he said about the results."

"What was the prophecy? What did it say, exactly?" Hermione asked.

Ron and Harry repeated it as well as they could recall. Hermione sat back on the couch, twisting her hair between her fingers.

"An apprentice and a sacrifice, hmm. Obviously, he’s right that you’re the apprentice, Harry," Hermione said.

"Hermione," Ron said, startled. "Don’t tell me you believe any of this sodding prophecy business."

"Language, Ron," Hermione said absently. "You know how I feel about Professor Trelawny…but everything in our lives revolves around prophecies at the moment. It would explain why you’ve been drawn into Harry’s dreams, wouldn’t it? If Harry’s subconscious knew he needed some help but wouldn’t ask for it, and you were able to pick up on those thoughts. It makes sense, right? What do you think, Ron?"

Ron stared at her in disbelief, apparently dumbfounded that she was actually asking his opinion on something so important. Hermione blushed slightly and looked at him with lowered lashes, causing Harry to look away. They’d certainly come a long way.

Ginny came back and sat down next to Harry. She studied his face and the dark purple patches beneath his eyes. "You look exhausted. Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep, and we can pick this up in the morning?"

Harry nodded; he was drained, and he knew it. "Yes, I can’t concentrate anymore."

Hermione grudgingly let them go, and Harry literally dragged himself up the stairs and into his dormitory. He stripped off his clothes and tossed them haphazardly on the floor. Climbing into his bed wearing only his boxers, he half-heartedly attempted a few of his Occlumency exercises, but fell asleep in the middle of them.

Harry sneered at the sniveling man crouched in front of him. He enjoyed seeing the tremor of fear running through the body of the robed figure. He liked that his minions feared him; he took great satisfaction it. As long as they feared him, it meant that they respected his authority, his ultimate power over them.

"What have you to report?" he hissed imperiously.

The man shuddered again and spoke without raising his head. "I’m sorry, master. I fear that the rumors of the wards weakening at the school are exaggerated. I’ve done extensive testing, but the wards all remain intact. They cannot be breached."

"This is not the news I wanted to hear, Morrissey," Harry said, feeling annoyed.

"No, master," the man replied, cowering.

"Crucio," Harry hissed, feeling both excitement and revulsion at saying the words. The Death Eater on the floor screamed in misery, howling until unconsciousness finally claimed him.

"Who is next?" Harry asked with immense satisfaction. He was confident whoever delivered the next item would have more pleasing results.

"I’m here, my lord," a female voice called.

Harry turned to see a blonde woman approach. She was thin, and her cheeks were sunken beneath bloodshot eyes. Fading bruises covered most of her exposed skin, but even in her state, it was obvious she had once been beautiful. She carried an air of one used to giving orders rather than taking them.

"Narcissa," Harry said, caressing her name with his tone. "I trust you are feeling better?"

"Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. My informant tells me that the old fool continues to train Potter in ancient magic. They have found a spell that they believe can defeat you," Narcissa replied.

Harry laughed outright, despite a growing sense of panic. Suddenly, the red of his eyes widened. "Potter!"

"My Lord?" Narcissa asked uncertainly.

"Silence! Potter is here; he’s listening to us."

Harry awoke with a start, his scar burning fit to burst. He groaned as he sat up, bending his knees and placing his head between them. He rocked back and forth until the pain subsided a bit, trying to make sense of the visions in his head. Voldemort knew about the weakening of the wards. He also knew about the old magic, or at least the general idea of what they were trying to do.

Where was this information coming from? Obviously, there was still a leak in the Order, but who? Who was the traitor this time? Harry shuddered, feeling that history was trying to repeat itself. He’d have to ask Dumbledore if he’d made any progress in determining the spy’s identity.

He’d felt Voldemort’s emotions while Narcissa was speaking. He had an overriding sense of disbelief and derision. He didn’t believe in ancient magic. He thought Dumbledore was a fool for using it. Perhaps that blatant disregard could be used to their advantage. Regardless, he yet again had to make a trip up to the headmaster’s office in the middle of the night. Somehow, he suspected Dumbledore would be expecting him.

Wearily, he pulled back the bed hangings and pulled on his pajama bottoms, slippers, and a dressing gown before making the trek to Dumbledore’s office alone.

As the month progressed, Harry continued his training with Abe. He felt he was finally getting the hang of some of the advanced Transfiguration spells Abe had shown him. Even Professor McGonagall had been pleased with his progress. Ron now had some extra Divination sessions with Firenze, and his schedule became nearly as tight as Harry’s was. Both longed for some warmer weather so Quidditch practices could resume.

Hermione had been surprisingly silent about Ron’s Divination sessions. It was obvious she didn’t believe or approve, but she was making the effort to listen to Ron when he talked about it. For his part, Ron knew how she felt, and made the effort not to shout and had even admitted to how wooly a lot of the things Firenze told him had sounded. Harry and Ginny had been stunned into silence on more than one occasion by their new, working relationship. They were acting almost…adult about things, and Harry wasn’t certain how to take it.

Although his scar had burned intently, Harry hadn’t had another vision, and he was careful to practice his Occlumency techniques. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t appeared at all surprised over Harry’s declaration that the traitor was still leaking information. In fact, neither had Hermione, once he filled the others in on his vision.

They hadn’t seen a lot of Luna since her split with Neville. Ginny caught Neville trying to slip out of the common room again, and Neville had finally admitted that he’d been spending a lot of time with Hannah Abbott on an Herbology project. Neville’s cheeks reddened brightly when Ron said that he thought they’d be a good match.

One afternoon, Harry entered the Room of Requirement for practice to find not only Abe and Percy, but Professor Dumbledore, as well, and none of them was smiling.

"Should I ask?" Harry asked.

"I have an official Ministry Summons here from Minister Fudge," Percy said, handing Harry a scroll secured with a neatly tied blue ribbon.

"A summons?" Harry asked without taking the scroll.

Percy tucked the scroll into Harry’s bag and said, "The Minister is hosting a gala at the Ministry on February 18. You will be receiving an award for your efforts at the shopping mall in Aberdeen at Christmastime. There will also be a press conference."

Harry felt his anger growing. "I’m not going," he said automatically.

"You don’t have a choice," Percy snapped. Harry could feel the irritation rising from Percy, because Harry remained unimpressed with his Ministry. "Minister Fudge feared you might behave this way, but he insists that you attend. The wizarding population needs to celebrate these small victories. It’s good for morale. You are the people’s hero, their savior, and they are anxious to hear from you. You haven’t made a statement to the press since the prophecy was revealed, and he feels the time is ripe."

"You mean he’s frustrated that I didn’t immediately bow to his wishes and confront the press the moment he revealed the prophecy?" Harry snapped.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "I have already spoken with Cornelius about this, since I knew you would not be pleased. I am afraid he is most insistent. He has let the custody issue alone, but he will invoke the Right of Detainment should you refuse to attend."

"But I’m of age!" Harry shouted.

"We are aware of that, Harry. But the Statute allows for your Detainment, because of your role in the prophecy," Professor Dumbledore said wearily.

"So, I have to go to this thing whether I like it or not?" Harry asked, fuming.

"I am afraid so. You’ll find that being an adult often means you have to do things you do not wish to do in order to satisfy a greater goal. You are allowed to bring a guest along. My apologies to Miss Weasley, but I plan on being your guest for the evening," Professor Dumbledore said.

"What?" Percy asked, startled. "I thought…"

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling. "Somehow, my name was left off the invitation list, but that is of no matter. If a student of mine is receiving such an honorary distinction, I would like to see it."

"I assure you, we at the Ministry are quite capable of overseeing Harry’s safety for the evening," Percy said, obviously flustered.

"Most certainly," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "However, it has been quite some time since I allowed myself to partake in such a festive occasion. In fact, I think I shall go out and purchase some new dress robes."

Harry would have grinned at Percy’s flabbergasted expression if he weren’t so hacked off over being required to attend. Fudge continued to pull strings and expected everyone to jump. So be it, but he wasn’t going to like his answers to the questions the reporters would ask him. He’d let them know exactly what he thought of Fudge and the entire Ministry at this point.

February 18 would be a date Fudge would not soon forget.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Sacrifice

The castle was filled with a flutter of activity as Valentine’s Day approached. Cordelia had made it her mission to ensure that there were plenty of activities for those students wishing to celebrate the holiday. Unlike his second year, there wasn’t an over-abundance of pink or little hearts, but more subtle, romantic gestures around the castle. Owls delivered single roses in various colors, and the candles in the Great Hall were dimmed to create a more romantic atmosphere.

Harry found the Valentine excitement didn’t annoy him nearly as much as it had in years past. Maybe it was because he was older, or perhaps it was the fact that it gave him an excuse to spend time with Ginny. He was thoroughly looking forward to spending the evening with her.

On Valentine’s night, Cordelia converted the Room of Requirement for a special evening open to couples only. She hoped it would avoid anyone showing up simply to cause trouble by setting the couples rule. She was very secretive about the nature of the event, which made it all the more exciting and appealing. There was no age limit, as long as the participants arrived with a partner.

Dress for the event was supposed to be summer casual, and Harry wore crisp white trousers with a bright red T- shirt. Ginny had insisted he had to wear red, so at least one of them would be festive. She said it couldn’t be her, since it clashed with her hair. Harry laughed and said her whole head looked decked out for Valentine’s day. She’d promptly smacked him in the arm and called him a prat.

Harry and Ginny arrived early, with the other prefects, so they had a chance to look around before the rest of the students arrived. Ginny wore a short, denim skirt without her school robes, so he had a rare and unobstructed view of her legs. He kept getting distracted, watching her, and was having trouble stringing his words together. The rational side of his brain thought it was a good idea that the girls were usually so well covered under bulky robes or he’d never get any work done; the hormonal teenage side of his brain wanted to smack himself for that thought. He was glad there were no Legilimens around who could read it.

When the doors opened, and the prefects all entered, Harry felt his mouth drop open along with everyone else. As they stepped over the threshold, it appeared as if they had left Hogwarts and entered a lush, tropical rain forest. A clearing had been made in the jungle, and a huge bonfire had been erected. Around the edge of the clearing, there were tables overflowing with food and drink surrounding elaborate ice sculptures. Harry was certain that he could hear a waterfall in the distance. Blazing torches lit up the night sky, and a steel drum band added to the tropical atmosphere.

Dobby and the other house elves had prepared a wide variety of sweets and exotic delicacies for the event. A large boar, complete with an apple in its mouth, was roasting on an open pit, while pineapples, mangoes and passion fruit adorned the tables. Abe had secretly smuggled in several cases of butterbeer and charmed the bottles to kiss back when the bearer took the first sip.

Ginny slipped her hand into his. "Whoa," she said, her voice sounding awed.

"This is bloody brilliant," said Ron, who had spent the past week complaining about even having to attend.

"I thought you didn’t want to come," Ginny said, teasing laughter obvious in her voice.

"I didn’t expect this," Ron said, his eyes still trying to take in their surroundings.

"You know Cordelia. You should have known that she wouldn’t have done anything ordinary," Hermione replied.

Harry had to agree with her, even though, like Ron, Harry hadn’t expected this. He’d suspected some kind of dance or maybe a Muggle-style movie. This was loads better. As the rest of the students began to arrive, Harry watched their faces as they entered the room. All of them wore the same gobsmacked expression that he knew had appeared on his own face.

Blaise Zabini arrived with Daphne Greengrass, a stunningly pretty blonde girl with cold, pale blue eyes. Both seemed pleased with the atmosphere and appeared to relax. Daphne walked over to where some of the other Slytherins were standing and waved a greeting. Blaise’s eyes met Harry’s for a moment before walking towards him.

"Evening," Blaise said smoothly. "Nice set-up. Our new Potions professor scored some points."

"Yeah. This should be fun," Harry replied, wondering what Blaise had on his mind. They’d settled on an uneasy truce since the duel in Snape’s class. Each had realized that their preconceived notions about the other might have been false. Harry didn’t agree with Blaise’s political opinions…but he didn’t think he was Death Eater in training, either. Still, it didn’t stop either of them from getting in a dig when the opportunity presented itself.

"I heard you’re up for an award at the Ministry, Potter. I suppose Draco was right all along in his accusations that you enjoyed – even craved – all the attention." The Daily Prophet had run a story about Harry’s award, much to his dismay. Rita Skeeter had been running daily articles, speculating on whom he would bring as a date. Harry hoped he could see the look on her face when he arrived with Albus Dumbledore.

Harry rolled his eyes and was about to give Blaise a hard time about not ranking an invitation himself when Ron – who didn’t share Harry’s tolerance of the Slytherin – snarled. "Sod off, Zabini. Why don’t you go and stick your head back in the sand with the rest of the little junior Death Eaters over there," Ron said, nodding towards the group Daphne had joined.

"What’s the matter? Am I stepping on your turf? Potter isn’t allowed to have any sidekicks besides you?" Blaise asked, causing Ron’s ears to go bright red.

"I said, sod off!"

"A bit touchy, are we, Weasley?" Blaise asked with an amused grin. "You aren’t so good at taking what you like to dish out, then?"

"I can take anything you want to bring on. How about you? Have you figured out which side of this war you’re on yet?" Ron asked

Blaise rolled his eyes, speaking slowly as if to a small child. "I already told you, neither. I’m not getting involved."

"So, you and your family hide on the sidelines where it’s safe and watch? Waiting to see where the pieces fall and how you can come out ahead, no matter who wins and who dies in the process?" Ron asked in disgust.

The color in Blaise’s cheeks rose for the first time. He lost his trademark amused expression as he took a step closer to Ron. "My family isn’t any safer in this war than yours, Weasley. In fact, they’ve probably been threatened even more intensely, since they are purebloods who aren’t known blood traitors and are expected to fall in line. By not openly becoming Death Eaters, their own allegiance has been questioned. I won’t stand here and tolerate you belittling them. You have no idea what they’ve had to face."

Ron blinked, momentarily derailed. It didn’t take long, however, for his own ire to rise. "Yeah? I’m so sorry that they’re under so much pressure. Maybe the fact that one side is threatening them ought to let you know which side you should choose. I don’t see Dumbledore threatening anyone with bodily harm for not wanting to protect the Muggles – even though people should."

"I already told you, I don’t want to kill any Muggles or mudbloods, but I’m not about to put my own neck on the line for them, either. I want to get through his war alive and able to continue living my life, regardless of which side is victorious," Blaise said angrily.

"What is going on here, gentlemen?" Snape’s oily voice said from behind Harry.

He started and spun around; he hadn’t heard the man’s approach, and that was not good. Constant vigilance, he reminded himself. Moody would be so disappointed. His relationship with Snape had taken another strange turn since their duel. While not anything near friendly, it wasn’t as openly hostile as it had been, either.

They would never like each other; they’d probably never even be able to work together without a third party running interference, but by besting him in the duel, Harry had removed Snape’s ability to bully him. It was almost as if Snape didn’t know how to interact with him if he didn’t have the upper hand. Harry suspected Snape still resented Harry’s role in all of this, but he’d resigned himself to the fact it couldn’t be denied.

As Harry looked at his Defense teacher, he was amused to notice that Snape was still dressed all in black, including his heavy robes. He looked impossibly out of place in this tropical atmosphere, and he was sweating heavily. Harry wondered how Cordelia had managed to get him to agree to be a chaperone. Then again, the idea of impeding any fun the students might be enjoying was probably considered a good evening for Snape.

"Hello, Professor Snape," Blaise answered. "We were just having a discussion on the finer points of the war."

"I see," Professor Snape said, his eyes boring into Blaise and the four Gryffindors. "Perhaps it would be wiser to leave such discussions to adults and enjoy your little festivities."

All of them, even Blaise, bristled at the inference that they were merely children. Zabini recovered his poise first. "If you’ll excuse me, I’m being rude to leave my date unattended on Valentine’s Day," he said smoothly, nodding towards the Gryffindors and making his way towards Daphne.

Snape turned towards Harry with a sneer. "For someone who thrives on being noble, you’re remarkably careless, Potter. If you think your attempts at influencing Zabini go unnoticed, think again," he hissed.

Harry knitted his brow. "Who would care that I-"

"Not you, Potter. Not everything is about you. I suppose it is useless to hope you will ever realize that. It’s Zabini’s life you’re putting in jeopardy."

Harry hadn’t considered this. If his family was already getting pressured for not joining Voldemort, Blaise’s apparent friendship with Harry wouldn’t improve their situation.

Seeing the light dawn on Harry’s face, Snape sneered and moved away.

"Git," Ron mumbled under his breath.

"At least he didn’t take any points, though," Ginny said brightly.

"He’s right," Hermione said, watching Snape scolding some students for putting sunglasses on the roasting pig. "Blaise and his family will be targeted if Voldemort thinks they are siding with Harry and Professor Dumbledore."

"Since when did you care so much about Zabini?" Ron asked.

"I don’t like him, Ron, and I hate what he stands for, but I don’t want to see him hurt," Hermione said.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Neville and Hannah. Hannah looked pretty, in a white skirt with a pretty pink sleeveless top. Neville nearly strutted as he escorted her over to the group.

"Hi, Neville; hullo, Hannah," Ginny said brightly.

Hannah glanced nervously at Ron and Hermione. "Hi," she said shyly.

Hermione scowled, causing Hannah to retreat a step. Ginny stepped in front of Hermione and smiled at the skittish girl. "Isn’t this just amazing? Professor Monroe did such a wonderful job. Why don’t we all go try some of the food? I’m starving."

Ron perked right up at the mention of food, even though he was the only one who had still attended the regular supper in the Great Hall earlier that evening. "Me, too," he said, directing Hermione towards the food tables. When Ginny walked ahead with Hermione, he leaned back towards Neville and Hannah. "You two look good together," he said quickly before hurrying over to the roasting pig.

Neville’s cheeks burned, but Hannah smiled and nodded before he left.

Harry watched them all for a moment, feeling pleased that it had all worked out in the end.

After they’d had their fill of the interesting foods that were available, Harry pulled Ginny away. For this one night, he didn’t want to think about the war; he wanted this night to be just about them. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her body close to his as they swayed to the music.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry," Ginny said, smiling sweetly.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," he replied, kissing her softly.

"Where’s my present?" Ginny asked.

Harry grinned. "What makes you think you’re getting a present?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry, luv, I’ve been pretending all week that I didn’t notice you scurrying around and sending secret owls. I know you’re up to something."

Harry felt crushed. He’d thought he’d done such a good job of acting casual. "I’m never going to get away with anything around you, am I?"

"Nope," she said, grinning and snuggling her head under his chin. "So, where’s my present?"

"I don’t think I’m going to give it to you now," Harry said, only half-kidding.

"Har-ry," she said, pouting.

He laughed at her expression. "All right, all right. Come with me," he said leading her away from the crowd. He chose a spot on some rocks by a pond; the sound of the waterfall was louder than it had been near the bonfire. He waited while his vision became accustomed to the darkness before sitting down beside her and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small, black velvet box and handed it to her.

Ginny flipped opened the lid and gasped, "Harry."

Inside sat a square-cut emerald ring with a diamond on each side. Harry swallowed. "It reminded me of us. We’re the two on the outside, with something big still separating us," he said softly, feeling a bit stupid. "Once we get through that, though…there’s so much I want to do with you, Gin. I suppose this is kind of like a promise ring – it’s what I want to promise you. If I can do this, I want to marry you, Ginny. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, making you happy. Can you accept that; can you wait for me?"

Ginny had tears in her eyes as she looked at the ring. She looked Harry right in the eye and said simply, "No."

He blinked. "No?" Panic and dismay rose in his chest; she didn’t want to go through this. She’d changed her mind. He always knew it was too good to last. Neither can live while the other survives…

Ginny swiped at her eyes. "No. I’ll wear this ring, Harry, and I’ll promise you my heart and soul forever, but it’s not a promise ring. When this is done…when Tom is dead and you’re finally free, you come back to me and ask me properly. You don’t get an answer if you don’t come back to me."

Harry smiled, his heart returning to where it should be. Sweet Merlin, Voldemort had never scared him as much. "I’ll take your heart and soul forever, then," he said, feeling at that moment that he could easily take on Tom and come back for her, just to hear that promise. He took her in his arms and kissed her soundly, tasting the salt from her tears. "Don’t cry, Ginny," he whispered.

"I love you, Harry. I always have, and I always will," she said, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer to her body.

After they’d spent several minutes completely wrapped up with one another, Harry pulled back, panting. "That’s the only present I’ve ever really wanted," he said.

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, slightly dazed. "I forgot. Here." She pulled a small package from her pocket and cast an enlargement charm. "Now, it’s nothing like this," she said, holding up her ring and watching it sparkle in the firelight, "but I think you’ll like it."

He unwrapped a new pair of Quidditch goggles and immediately put them on. Everything went blurry.

Ginny laughed. "They’re designed to automatically adjust to your eyesight so you don’t have to wear your glasses under them," she said, lifting the goggles and pulling his glasses out from underneath. His vision cleared, and he could see remarkably well, without any obstruction from the rim of his glasses. The soft strap fit comfortably as he tilted his head from side to side.

"These are brilliant, Ginny. Thanks!" he said with a wide grin. Removing the goggles, he placed them back in the box and shrunk it to again fit inside his pocket.

"We’d better get back, before Ron sends out a search party," Ginny said, sighing.

Harry pulled her closer for another kiss. "Let’s wait until we have to go back," he said.

It was only a moment later when they heard Ron’s voice calling, "Oi, Harry, Ginny where are the two of you?"

Harry sighed. "I swear he’s determined that you and I don’t get any time alone," he whispered.

Ginny giggled. "You’re exactly right, Harry. He doesn’t want us to be alone."

"Well, we’re just going to have to find some way to avoid him, then," Harry said, taking up the challenge. Sister or not, there was no way Ron was going to keep him from spending some private time with Ginny.

"Come on," Ginny said, pulling him to his feet. "Let’s socialize a bit before curfew. I want to show off my new present." She waved her fingers in front of him, showing off the sparkle of her new ring.

She led him back to the party, and they spent an enjoyable evening, dancing and eating at a party in the rainforest.

The evening of the Ministry gala had arrived, and Harry stood in front of the mirror in the boys’ bathroom, trying to get his hair in some semblance of order. He wore his gray dress robes that he’d bought for the Yule Ball the previous year, but his hair had chosen this evening to be particularly difficult. Harry was already nervous about facing all those people and reporters; he didn’t want to look ridiculous or worse, like a kid.

After intense speculation all week about his guest for the gala, Rita Skeeter had chosen this morning to change tactics. Instead of a gossipy piece of fluff, she insinuated that Harry was craving attention again and attending the gala rather than work on his training. The man designated as our savior chooses to stroke his ego rather than defend us, the article had begun.

He was startled out of his brooding by a light knock on the door.

"Are you decent?" he heard Ginny call from outside.

"Nope," he replied, before the door burst open, and Ginny bustled inside.

"You’d better hurry up, Harry, or you’ll keep Professor Dumbledore waiting," she said, pulling the comb from his hand and going to work on his hair.

"I said I wasn’t decent, you know," he said, relinquishing his grip on the comb. Maybe she’d have better luck.

"I was hoping," she said, shrugging.

He grinned. "I wish you could be my date instead of Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah, but I’m not too jealous, because I don’t think he’s your type. He likes rules too much," she said, grinning. "You do look particularly dashing in these robes still, Harry. I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to see you get your award. Mum and Dad are going to be there, and Mum’s bringing her camera."

"Great," Harry replied dryly.

"This is huge, Harry. I heard that tickets are even being sold on the black market. Professor Dumbledore had trouble even getting the Order members in. Dad managed to get tickets through a friend at the Ministry, but Bill couldn’t get any. Of course, somehow Fred and George managed to get dates with tickets, so they’ll be there."

"Oh, well, that’s just brilliant," Harry said sarcastically. "Just what I need to make this night perfect – Fred and George’s running commentary."

"Cheer up, Harry. Don’t be such a grump," Ginny replied, laying the comb on the sink and surveying her work. "That looks better."

Harry glanced in the mirror and was amazed to see that she’d managed to get his hair to settle down. At least, it looked as good as it ever did. "How did you do that?" he asked.

Ginny blew on her fingers and rubbed them against her side. "What would you ever do without me?" she asked.

"Show up at Ministry parties with messy hair?" he asked cheekily.

She grinned and kissed him soundly. "I’ll wait up to hear how it goes when you get back."

"You don’t have to do that, Ginny. I don’t know how late we’ll be, and I know you’ve been working hard," he said, leading her toward the stairs.

"I want to, Harry. I know Ron and Hermione will wait with me, as well."

When they entered the common room, Ron and Hermione were waiting. They were sitting on the couch by the fire, and Ron had his arm wrapped around Hermione’s shoulders. Harry was happy to see it; things felt right again.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, "you look so handsome."

Harry blushed and ducked his head. "Thanks, Hermione. I wish you lot could come with me."

"Oh, so do I. I imagine it will be very formal and prestigious. I’ve never been to a Ministry function like it, and I’m certain it would be fascinating to see," Hermione gushed.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, I don’t want to have to wear any dress robes, but I wish I could be there to watch your back. Fred and George said they’d keep an eye on you."

Harry clenched his teeth. "I don’t need any minders, Ron. Besides, Professor Dumbledore will be with me."

"You can never have too many eyes, and I just feel better when I can keep you in my sight," Ron said.

Harry remained silent. Ron’s over-protectiveness still irritated him, but he knew it was a residual effect from everything that had happened last year. He was a good friend, even if he was a pest.

"Okay, well, I’m supposed to meet Professor Dumbledore in the entrance hall. Wish me luck," Harry said, taking a deep breath.

They all wished him luck and told him not to worry. Ginny kissed his cheek before he climbed out the portrait hole. He found Professor Dumbledore waiting in the hall, dressed in robes of deep purple with silver moons embroidered on them.

"Ahh, Harry. There you are, my boy. Are you ready to go?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"As ready as I’ll ever be, sir," Harry replied.

Professor Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Cheer up, Harry. It might not be as bad you think. Often the things we least want to do end up being most enjoyable."

Harry didn’t think he’d ever find socializing with a bunch of Ministry politicians and answering reporters’ questions as anything close to enjoyable.

"How are we getting there, sir?" he asked.

"There is a carriage waiting to take us to Hogsmeade. We can Apparate directly to the Ministry checkpoint from there, but I’d rather we go to the Leaky Cauldron and walk over. Is that suitable to you?"

Harry squinted his eyes at the headmaster. "You don’t want the Ministry to know when we arrive."

Dumbledore smiled. "Very good, Harry. It is best not to let them be too completely in control of anything. We shall arrive on our own terms."

Harry liked that idea. When they left the castle, Harry was surprised to see an ornate carriage being pulled by two thestrals awaiting them. "Nice ride," he commented.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You will find that I am not a cheap date, Harry."

Harry laughed. "I can’t wait to see what Rita prints about this tomorrow."

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled merrily as he extended his arm. "Let us give her something to write about, shall we?"

Harry laughed outright and took Professor Dumbledore’s arm. "Right then, on with the show."

As they approached the Ministry twenty minutes later, Harry saw a large crowd gathered outside. There were reporters snapping pictures and shouting questions as witches and wizards walked across a flying red carpet suspended between the Apparation checkpoint and the Ministry. Harry recognized Neville’s grandmother as she walked regally across the carpet with her head held high in the air, ignoring both the reporters and the onlookers.

"I think we can avoid most of the reporters if we merely walk over to the entrance," Professor Dumbledore whispered in his ear. "Unless, of course, you would like the red carpet treatment?"

Harry shook his head emphatically. "No, sir. Let’s just get inside quickly."

Professor Dumbledore nodded and led the way towards the open door of the Ministry. Two bulky guards stood on either side, while a house-elf directed the attendees on where to go. Harry and Professor Dumbledore almost made it inside before they were recognized. Harry didn’t think Professor Dumbledore’s purple dress robes were the least bit inconspicuous and was surprised they’d even made it that far.

"There he is! It’s Harry Potter!" A cry went up, the lights of many flashbulbs began shining in Harry’s face, and the reporters began firing their questions.

"Mr. Potter, how does it feel to be honored by this award?"

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing about ridding us of the Dark Lord?"

"Mr. Potter, why is it taking so long for you to act when innocent witches and wizards are being killed every day?"

"Albus Dumbledore, are you accompanying Mr. Potter on school business, or is there more to your relationship with the boy?"

The guards at the door ushered him and Professor Dumbledore inside and struggled to keep the reporters out. Harry had only a moment to breathe before the crowd inside again swarmed him.

"It’s Harry Potter!" a young witch screamed as the mob began rushing toward him.

"I love you, Harry!" another witch called with tears streaming down her face.

Harry was at a complete loss on how to handle this. He had no idea what all these people were on about, or why they all seemed to want to touch him. He began batting their hands away as he backed towards the wall. When he felt his back hit the wall and the crowd continued to move closer, he pulled out his wand. He didn’t want to curse anyone, but he hoped they’d at least move back so that he could determine if there was a real threat. Questions continued to barrage him, but the noise level was so loud he couldn’t make anything out. He could hear his name being called repeatedly and felt his once immaculate dress robes being wrinkled in the crush.

"Oww," he snapped, jerking his head back from a particularly eager witch whom had grabbed a fistful of his hair. All Ginny’s work on getting his hair to lie flat was ruined.

"Albus, Harry, this way," Kingsley Shacklebolt said. He had appeared next to them suddenly and pulled both of them through a door on the side of the room. He grinned at them in the darkened room, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. "I’m sorry about that. We had Aurors on the other side of the carpet who were supposed to alert us when you were crossing."

"No harm done, Kingsley," Professor Dumbledore said, straightening his hat. "We sought to avoid the carpet altogether. Alas, I had not expected the tenacity of the crowd inside."

"What was all that about?" Harry demanded.

Kingsley Shacklebolt grinned. "Come now, Harry. Certainly you’re used to being a celebrity by now?"

"Not like that," Harry said, shaking his head at the now closed door. "What is wrong with those people?" He felt as if he’d just been through a battle.

Professor Dumbledore grinned and straightened Harry’s robes for him. "Everyone wants a piece of you, Harry. You had better get used to it. I fear it will only get more intense as the battle nears."

"Never mind after you’ve defeated that ruddy tosser," Kingsley said, grinning.

Harry was shocked; he had grown accustomed to everyone fearing to even utter Voldemort’s name, never mind calling him names.

"We’ve all taken a page from your book, Harry. Most of the Aurors are describing him in most colorful terms," Kingsley said.

Harry grinned. "Well, that’s an improvement, at least. D’you really think that even after I defeat him…assuming I do…that they’ll still act like that?" he asked, nodding his head toward the door. He’d always imagined slipping away unnoticed to live his quiet, ordinary life. It hadn’t occurred to him that the wizarding world might not be willing to let him go.

"Do not concern yourself with it now, Harry. What is coming will come, and we have more important things to worry about at the moment," Professor Dumbledore said, laying a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Kingsley, I assume you have a more private way into the hall?"

"Yes. Follow me," Kingsley said, leading them down a hallway. "You still will probably get a lot of attention inside the hall, but you can sit at your table, and hopefully everyone will behave more civilly and with proper decorum. Albus, your friend Ivan Horvath approached me outside this evening and said to tell you to keep your eyes open tonight. He’s heard some rumors that there might be trouble."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Kingsley. Ivan usually has a good ear for these things. Inform everyone to remain alert."

"Is Ivan here?" Harry asked. There was something about the old vampire he liked, and he wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

"No, Harry. Ivan is considered a dangerous creature and not welcome at a Ministry function," Professor Dumbledore said sadly.

Like Remus, Harry thought bitterly. Remus was unable to attend tonight’s gala with Tonks for the same reason. Some things about the Ministry needed to change.

"Stay alert, Harry. Most of the Aurors wanted this event held at a separate facility, but Fudge wouldn’t hear of it. He’s showcasing, but Voldemort has enough soft support here at the Ministry that we can never be certain of anyone’s loyalties. It would be quite a coup for Voldemort to interrupt the festivities tonight," Kingsley warned.

Kingsley led them down several corridors and up a lift before they reached another private door and slipped inside a huge function hall. It was extensively decorated, and the room glittered with polished gold and crystal. A podium was erected at the front of the room, with many circular tables arranged in front.

"You’ve been seated at the Minister’s table," Kingsley told them, leading them to a table located in the front center of the room directly opposite the podium. Cornelius Fudge was already seated, along with a plump witch with a tight face. Harry assumed this was Mrs. Fudge. Percy Weasley and Pricilla Fudge were also seated, along with an older couple whom Harry didn’t know.

"Ah, Albus, young Harry. Welcome, welcome," Cornelius Fudge said jovially. "Have a seat. I believe you’ve met my daughter Pricilla; this is my wife, Eustacia. Also let me introduce Maximillian St. George, who is the head our International Relations Division, and his lovely wife, Savannah."

Both Eustacia and Pricilla Fudge gave him looks that made him feel that they thought of him as the equivalent to something unpleasant on the bottom of their shoe. The St. Georges appeared pleasant enough, but Harry had the distinct impression that they were watching him closely.

"So, Albus, you did decide to accompany young Harry. I thought you’d let the boy out for a social occasion, since it isn’t a school night," Fudge said, with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"While I am certain there are many young witches who would have enjoyed accompanying Harry to the gala, Cornelius, I decided that I deserved a festive night out. You did offer us just a pair of tickets," Dumbledore said, smiling and taking his seat.

Harry took his seat and allowed his eyes to scan the room. He didn’t think the crowd would dare mob him while he was seated with the Minister of Magic himself, which was the only good thing about sharing a table with Cornelius Fudge. He noticed that the press had been seated at tables on the far side of the room. Cameras still flashed, but he assumed they'd been instructed to hold their questions until after dinner. He made a mental note to avoid that side of the room. His scar, which had been burning and itching slightly since leaving Hogwarts, seared painfully, making his eyes water. It lasted only a moment before receding completely. Harry scanned the room again.

He recognized some of the faces in the room, both as Order members and from past dealings with the Ministry. He could see the Quidditch recruiter, Simon Coffey, dining with several well-known Quidditch players in the League. Harry grinned, thinking about how much Ron would like the chance to get a glimpse of that table. He’d probably willingly put on his dress robes for it.

Harry turned when the chairs behind him at the table next to his were pulled out. He was surprised to find Fred and George Weasley taking seats with two stunningly attractive young witches that Harry didn’t know. He grinned. It figures.

"Hiya, Harry," Fred said brightly.

"How are you, mate?" George asked. "Have you seen Mum and Dad yet? They were looking for you."

Although Harry was happy to see familiar faces, and he’d always really liked the twins, he could feel Percy’s stare on the back of his neck, and he felt uncomfortable with the way all the Weasley brothers ignored one another.

"No," he replied. "I haven’t seen them yet. We only arrived a few minutes ago."

"Come on, then," Fred said, taking him by the arm. "I’ll show you where they are. Their table is further back, and they won’t venture up this far, but they want to see you."

Harry felt another pang of sadness as he allowed Fred and George to direct him towards the Weasleys. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t approach his table because Percy was sitting there with his fiancée, and it made Harry’s heart hurt. Mrs. Weasley would love to plan a wedding, but he didn’t think either Pricilla or her mother would welcome her opinion. He felt a surge of dislike for the two witches, indignant on Mrs. Weasley’s behalf.

Fred and George led him to a table set back from the podium and on the opposite side of the room from all the reporters, for which he was grateful. They beamed when they saw him approaching with the twins.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, jumping up to wrap her arms around him. She hugged him so tightly he had to gasp for breath before she let go to look him over. "You look wonderful, dear. Are these the dress robes Ginny helped you select? They’re very becoming; the gray brings out the green in your eyes."

Harry blushed, causing Mrs. Weasley to laugh at him.

"You’re too easy, Harry."

"How are you doing, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, gripping his shoulder fondly. "Have you got your speech all prepared?"

Harry blanched. "Speech?"

"Well, I’m certain they’ll want a few words after they present you with the award, dear," Mrs. Weasley said nervously. She glanced anxiously at Mr. Weasley.

"Er…didn’t Professor Dumbledore tell you…er…you see, Harry, it’s customary to say a few words, er, after being presented with something like this," Mr. Weasley said, faltering.

Harry couldn’t contain his grin any longer. "Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; I already know what I’m going to say. Hermione helped me put something together."

"He was winding you up!" George exclaimed, as Fred burst into laughter.

"Knew there was hope for you yet, mate," Fred said.

"Learned from the masters," Harry quipped.

"Harry!" Tonks said, bumping into several guests as she made her way towards them. She wore lavender dress robes and had streaks of lavender in her purple hair. "How are you, kid? I heard there was a bit of a scene by the entrance."

"A scene? What kind of scene? What happened at the entrance?" Mrs. Weasley asked in alarm.

"Yeah, we didn’t hear anything," George said, looking at Harry.

"It’s all right – some reporters asking questions is all," Harry said, shrugging.

"Yeah, and a bunch of witches trying to get into Harry’s trousers," Tonks giggled, causing Harry to blush furiously as he tried to avoid Mrs. Weasleys’s shocked eyes.

"I don’t know what this world is coming to with the way young people behave nowadays," she said disapprovingly.

Fred and George grinned widely, and Mr. Weasley ducked his head. Harry was certain he was hiding a grin of his own.

"You’d best get back to your seats; they’re waiting on you," Tonks said, nodding towards Harry’s table.

He noticed that the food had appeared and people at some of the other tables had started to eat. Mrs. Weasley’s dinner appeared as soon as she retook her seat.

"Where are you sitting?" Harry asked Tonks.

"I’m not. I’m working tonight, just keeping an eye on things," she smiled. "Don’t keep the Minister waiting, Harry. He’ll just make his speech even longer if he’s in a snit."

Harry nodded and walked with the twins back toward their tables. Harry picked at his dinner quietly, allowing Professor Dumbledore to engage in conversation with the Minister and his family. He noticed that Percy didn’t really participate in the conversation, either, but kept glancing over at the table where Fred and George’s laughter could be heard above all other conversation. His scar twinged again, briefly, painfully, but he picked up no feeling or emotion from Voldemort. It left him nauseous, and with a distinct feeling of unease, however, and the food had no appeal.

Professor Dumbledore noticed his lack of appetite and leaned over to whisper, "Is everything all right, Harry?"

"Scar is bothering me a bit, but I haven’t picked up on anything," he whispered back.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful, but he returned to his dinner without commenting. Harry picked at his food and allowed the conversation to buzz around him. He noticed Maximillian St. George giving him a piercing stare on several occasions, but he always looked away when Harry raised his eyes. Lost in his unease, Harry was startled when Fudge rose from his chair and took a stand behind the podium.

"Good evening, witches and wizards. I am delighted to have such a splendid turnout for tonight’s festivities. In these dark times, we need to remember to take the time to celebrate the joy in our magical community. This administration has always sought-"

Harry forced himself not to roll his eyes at the Minister’s self-inflated speech; he knew the press was watching him keenly. As Fudge continued to prattle on over the wonderful job the Ministry was doing, Harry’s eyes roamed the crowd. He noticed a lot of people’s attention begin to drift away from the Minister and wondered if it was indicative of their own lack of faith in their leader.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard the Minister bellow his name out through the crowd, "…Harry Potter!"

Wild applause and cheering rang through the hall, particularly loud whistles coming from the direction of the twins’ table. Caught unawares, Harry faltered and struggled to cover his alarm.

Professor Dumbledore smiled fondly. "I believe they want you to say a few words, Harry. Take a few deep breaths and relax; you can do this."

Harry smiled and nodded his thanks for the encouragement. Uncomfortably aware of all the attention, Harry ducked his head and refused to meet anyone’s eyes as he strode toward the platform. Before he mounted the few steps on the dais, a stuffy Ministry official approached him, holding a small metal box.

"Your wand, please," the official hissed when Harry looked at him blankly. The man seemed extremely put out that Harry didn’t know the protocol. Glancing at Professor Dumbledore – who nodded briefly – he placed his wand in the box reluctantly and joined Minister Fudge at the podium.

Cornelius handed him a scroll affixed with a blue ribbon and gold label. His jovial face beamed as Harry turned toward the crowd. Harry swept his eyes along the sea of expectant faces and took a deep breath.

"Hello," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and started again. "I’m not really certain why this is being given to me; there are plenty of others who are fighting in this war and doing everything they can to keep you all safe.

"Voldemort wants-" Harry had to stop speaking for a moment until the shrieks and horrified screams in the room died down.

Harry shook his head in disgust. "How can you all sit here and expect me to fight him if you can’t even stand to hear his name? It’s just a name. He is the evil one, not the name. Haven’t you all had enough of skirting around the problem and denying that it’s really there?" Harry asked, glancing pointedly at Fudge, whose cheeks reddened brightly.

Harry ignored the whispers and nodding of the crowd. If public humiliation was what it was going to take – so be it. "Voldemort wants to wipe out all the Muggles and the Muggle-born witches and wizards. That’s where he’s starting, but he won’t stop there. Do you really think he’ll stop? He’s power hungry and will destroy anyone and anything that stands in his way. We need to all come together, the wizarding community as well as all the other races – the werewolves, the vampires, the centaurs, the gremlins – anyone who has a stake in our world continuing. We need to be the bigger people, the better people-"

"Thank you, Harry," Cornelius Fudge interrupted him. He could see how furious the man was and knew both he and Dumbledore were in for a telling off before the night was over. He could hear Fred and George booing the interruption. Professor Dumbledore looked decidedly smug over Harry’s comments.

Harry was about to push Fudge aside and continue speaking when his head suddenly felt as if it was exploding; shards of pain ripped through his skull. He clutched his forehead as he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Chaos erupted in the hall when masked Death Eaters swarmed in from all three entrances. The Aurors surrounding the room were easily outnumbered. Harry watched the sickening green light from the Killing Curse fly through the room with sickening frequency. The Minister released his grip on Harry and backed away from the podium, shielding himself behind several Ministry guards and leaving his wife and daughter at their table. The St. Georges were nowhere in sight.

The pain in his head kept Harry on his knees as he struggled for control. He knew before the shrieks and gasps even began that Voldemort had entered the room. Most of the attendees had never seen the man before his rebirth had so grossly distorted him. Now, he looked like something out of every childhood nightmare, and the vast majority of the crowd appeared frozen in shock staring at him.

He strode forward confidently, his snakelike red eyes flicking emotionlessly across the crowd. Harry wasn’t certain if it was his imagination or not, but he thought he saw a hideous, forked tongue flicker out to test the air. Death Eaters guarded his progress, killing anyone that moved to stop him as he approached the podium. He watched in horror as a young witch wearing pale yellow dress robes was struck with a Killing Curse aimed at one of the Aurors.

Harry struggled to his feet; he had to get control and find a way to focus despite this pain in his head. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Ginny; she always calmed him, and he couldn’t let her down. As his heart soared with the memory of her gentle touch, his mind cleared enough to concentrate. He needed his wand. Although he was capable of wandless magic, it didn’t work for any of the really strong spells, and he didn’t want to risk using the Curse of the Damned without it. There would be too much of a struggle for power as it was.

Raising his hand towards the Ministry official holding the box who was now hiding behind one of the tables, Harry hissed, "Accio wand."

The box rattled in the worker’s hands, but didn’t budge. Damn! Anti-summoning box, I should have realized that.

Harry felt his panic rising. He had to get over to that box without Voldemort knowing what he was doing. He quickly raised his Occlumency shield and tried to take a step closer to where the worker was crouched. Voldemort’s eyes bore into him intently; Harry was his sole focus. Harry had to think of something else. This was it; the time for a final battle had arrived. Harry had sworn that the next time he met Voldemort would be the last. Somehow, he hadn’t expected to be caught without his wand, however. Moody’s words – Constant Vigilance – swam in his head, and he cursed himself for allowing this to happen. He had to get that wand!

Voldemort continued to move forward unhindered as the guests in the room shied away and hid their faces from his predatory stride. His eyes remained locked on Harry, who refused to flinch or look away. His heart sped up in his chest, and he felt small beads of sweat appear on his brow. He didn’t want to die today; he had to get his wand. If he was going to die, then he had to find a way to take Voldemort with him.

He swallowed and inched a step closer to the quivering guard holding the box. From the corner of his mouth, he whispered, "Toss me the box."

The guard either didn’t hear or was too stunned to move, for he didn’t respond to Harry at all. Voldemort’s eyes glared red, causing a shudder to run up Harry’s spine as he remembered a night in a graveyard years ago. He wasn’t that naïve, scared, little boy anymore. He knew to expect no mercy.

It was then that Professor Dumbledore stood up, blocking the path between Harry and Voldemort.

"Hello, Tom," he said pleasantly, as if greeting an old acquaintance.

What little there was of Voldemort’s nostrils flared, infuriated by the name. Harry felt his scar sear with Voldemort’s anger. "You’ve failed, old man," Voldemort said triumphantly.

"That has yet to be seen, Tom," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Harry seized onto Dumbledore’s thoughts. Through Legilimency, he said, "Professor, my wand is in the anti-summoning box. I need a wand; I can’t use the Curse of the Damned without one."

"It is not yet your time, Harry," Dumbledore responded.

Several Death Eaters fired curses at Professor Dumbledore to get him out of Voldemort’s path, but he easily deflected them, as if batting flies. When the green light of the Killing Curse came towards him, he transfigured his table into a rock shield that absorbed the blast of the curse, shattering to pieces in the process.

Pricilla Fudge screamed and hid behind her mother. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Percy moving stealthily toward the guard with the locked box. He didn’t have time to think about Percy.

"What do you mean, ‘it is not yet my time’? Voldemort is here now; I know how to conjure the curse. Help me get a wand and let me try to end this," he demanded.

"Harry, the pieces to ensure your victory are not yet in place," Dumbledore’s voice said in Harry’s head. In front of him, he watched Voldemort continue to stride forward. He was nearly on top of Professor Dumbledore and only a few meters from Harry when he raised his wand.

"What pieces? What are you talking about?" Harry nearly screamed.

"I am dying, anyway, Harry; I’ll be a more powerful ally this way."

Ron’s prophecy – the sacrifice! Harry suddenly understood, and his eyes locked with Professor Dumbledore.

Voldemort began his curse, "Avada…"

Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry. "This is my choice, done willingly; it is not your fault."

"…Kedavra!"

"Don’t do this to me again!" Out loud, Harry screamed, "Nooooo!" as the powerful green light began hurtling towards him, aimed directly at his head. With a grace and agility that appeared incongruous with his ill heath, Professor Dumbledore flung himself into the path of the curse. As he was struck down, all the air seemed to be sucked from the room, and the lights dimmed. The stunned stupor most of the guests had been under lifted upon seeing Professor Dumbledore struck down. People screamed and began running for the exits in panic.

Voldemort was nearly giddy with glory. He laughed out loud as he stood over Professor Dumbledore’s crumpled form. "You lose, Potter! Finally, my victory is at hand. You are mine; Hogwarts is mine. It is all mine." He raised his wand again.

Harry stood still in stunned silence. He blinked in numb disbelief as he struggled to accept what had just happened. His heart ached within his chest, and he had trouble making sense of anything. The lights in the room continued to flicker as an unearthly wail began to howl throughout the hall. In a moment that could have been seconds or an eternity later for all Harry knew, Percy Weasley appeared by his side, Harry’s own wand grasped within his hand.

"Take it," he hissed at Harry.

Harry blinked, too shocked to move.

Percy shoved the wand into his hand. Before he could move to raise it, before he could even register that he held it, he felt the familiar tug of a portkey behind his navel, and the room vanished from his eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Winds of Change

After the portkey stopped his movement, Harry stumbled to his knees and stared blankly at the gates of Hogwarts as if he’d never seen it before. Percy Weasley stood at his side, tugging him back to his feet.

"Are you all right?" Percy asked quietly. Percy suddenly appeared years older than his twenty-one years. His shoulders were slumped, and his elegant dress robes were wrinkled and smudged.

Harry started at him numbly, unable to speak or even begin to process what had just happened. Professor Dumbledore is dead; he killed him…

"Of course you’re not all right; that was a stupid question," Percy said, more to himself than to Harry. He adjusted his glasses needlessly on his face. "Come on; we have to get inside the gates and up to the castle. No one can Apparate into Hogwarts; we’ll be safe inside."

Harry stumbled as Percy nearly dragged him towards the gates. "I know," he said in a daze. "It says so in Hogwarts: A History."

"What?" Percy asked, distracted. He was panting with the effort of dragging Harry along.

Suddenly, it registered with Harry with whom he was walking – leaning on, really. Percy – who hadn’t believed him when he said Voldemort was back; who threw his whole family away; who told Ron to abandon him; who let Ginny get injured, because he had more important things to do. Percy – who had just pulled him away from the battle and stopped him from ending this thing once and for all.

"Percy! What are you doing here? Why-" Harry couldn’t force himself to form the words. It was too much. He should be back at the Ministry battling Voldemort, not taking a leisurely stroll. What had Percy done?

"You weren’t ready!" Percy hissed vehemently. "Professor Dumbledore told me as much, only I hadn’t wanted to believe him. You were in shock, Harry; you still are. Bloody Hell, we’re all in shock," he said, running a trembling hand in his hair. He suddenly looked lost and very young. "I’ve been observing your training for months now. Any fool can see that your powers are tied to your emotions, and they are all over the place right now. You couldn’t have won a duel, and we’d all be lost. I had to get you out of there, so I turned your wand into a portkey – an illegal portkey, I might add. I am going to be in so much trouble. I just hope the Minister will understand-"

"You’re worried about a bloody portkey?" Harry bellowed. "You left your family there with sodding Voldemort, Percy."

"He’s gone by now," Percy snapped. "Didn’t you feel what was happening in that room? That energy that caused everything to shake was Professor Dumbledore’s life force extinguishing. He was a powerful wizard; I’m certain he’d planned for it to happen that way. Voldemort and his followers would have escaped after you disappeared, to avoid draining any of their powers in the aftermath. I had to leave with you; he would have killed me for helping you escape. He might have killed a lot more people if you hadn’t disappeared."

Percy’s words reminded Harry that Dumbledore was gone. He was really gone. He’d jumped in front of a curse meant for Harry. He’d sacrificed his own life for Harry’s. It happened again. How many lives would be sacrificed so that he could live? Didn’t they understand that he couldn’t live with this? Harry felt hysteria rising within his chest. He had to get away. He couldn’t have this conversation with Percy right now; he couldn’t even deal with Percy right now. He needed to be alone; he needed to think.

Choking back a sob, he turned on his heel and sprinted for the castle in a full out run, not even caring what Percy would think of him. He felt a burning prickling behind his eyes, and he had to keep blinking to keep them clear. Don’t think, just keep running.

"Harry!" Percy shouted, but Harry ignored him and kept running. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, over sticks and twigs – hearing them crunch beneath his feet – over grass, and past the lake up the steps of Hogwarts. A stitch in his side burned painfully, but he ignored it. He burst through the doors and into the empty Entrance Hall, gasping for breath in short, painful wheezes. He couldn’t face any questions in the common room right now, and he didn’t want to have to tell Professor McGonagall what had happened. He couldn’t tell Ron and Ginny that their parents and brothers were in that room, and he had no idea what had happened to them.

His heart thudded in his chest as he ran as fast as he could up to the seventh floor. The stairs kept shifting and moving, as if trying to slow him down. He screamed his fury and refused to be slowed. His scream echoed in the vast, empty stairway, making his howl of misery answer itself.

"Harry," he heard Neville call, but he ignored him and kept running until he reached the Room of Requirement. He paced back and forth along the length of the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy three times, breathing raggedly and concentrating on his need of a place to be alone and think.

A door appeared on the open stretch of wall opposite the tapestry and opened for him. Harry flung himself inside, pulling off his dress robes and hurling them into the corner. The room held a couch with a throw rug in front of a blazing fire. There was also a bookshelf with rows and rows of books and small glass and ceramic objects.

Harry strode towards the bookshelf and grabbed a handful of the objects. He flung them at the fireplace, and the sound of shattering glass joined Harry’s harsh breathing. He panted as he pulled books off the shelf and whipped them around the room.

"How could you leave me? You promised!" he cried, shattering everything he could reach and still feeling as if it weren’t enough. How could he possibly succeed without Professor Dumbledore to tell him what to do? He was the glue that held everyone and everything together. What would happen to them all now? Harry hadn’t felt this alone in a very long time.

"Not again," he raged, giving the bookcase a final shove and causing it to fall over. He punched it with his bare hand, causing his knuckles to bleed. "Not again," he cried as his adrenaline finally gave out, and he sank to his knees in despair.

Ginny sat in the common room, finishing up the last of her weekend homework. Ron and Hermione sat at the table in the corner, revising for the upcoming NEWTs, and several fifth-years sat by the fire, working on their OWL revision, but, otherwise, everyone had gone to bed. Ginny had promised Harry that she’d wait up for him, but she wasn’t certain how late he would be.

She was considering curling up on the couch and catching a nap when the portrait hole opened, and a very perplexed Neville climbed through.

"All right, Neville?" she asked, wondering why he looked so concerned. Ron and Hermione both looked up from their books.

"I just saw Harry," he said, shuffling his feet.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "He’s back already? Where is he? Why didn’t he come in with you?"

Neville shook his head. "I dunno. He didn’t talk to me; he was running. He ran past me without even noticing I was there. He didn’t look so good," Neville said, shrugging uncomfortably.

A chill ran up Ginny’s spine. "What do you mean ‘he didn’t look so good?’ What was wrong with him?"

Neville shrugged again. "He just…I dunno; he looked upset."

Ron glanced at Ginny, a frown furrowing his brow. He shrugged helplessly.

Hermione was one step ahead of them and already climbing out the portrait hole to look up and down the corridor. Ginny, Ron, and Neville followed her outside.

"Where did you see him, Neville?" Hermione asked.

"On the stairway, going towards the fourth floor. I’d just left Hannah in her dormitory," he said.

The stairway looked empty now, so the four began climbing down toward the Great Hall. There, they saw Percy talking with Professor McGonagall, who looked clearly upset.

"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded angrily. He hadn’t seen Percy since the day of their Apparation test and still hadn’t forgiven him for abandoning them for work when Ginny got hurt.

Ginny noticed the dejected slump of Percy’s shoulders and the fact that Professor McGonagall was crying. "Stop, Ron," she said. "Percy, what’s wrong?"

"Go back up to the common room," Professor McGonagall said. "There is nothing for you to worry about. I’ll make an announcement at breakfast tomorrow morning."

"An announcement about what, professor?" Hermione asked warily. Ginny could tell that she wasn’t certain she wanted to know.

"I don’t have time to answer your questions, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said sternly before she sniffled and her voice softened. "Go back up to the common room; I’ll stop by once I’m certain about the news."

"Neville thought he saw Harry," Ginny said, and she thought she saw Professor McGonagall flinch.

"Where is he?" Percy asked.

"Why?" Ron demanded, still unwilling to let go of his anger. "What did you do to him?"

"I pulled him out of the gala before You-Know-Who could kill him," Percy snapped, completely losing his cool.

Hermione inhaled sharply. "What?" she shrieked.

Percy shut his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "You-Know-Who attacked the gala," he said wearily. "He aimed a Killing Curse at Harry, but Professor Dumbledore jumped in front of it. Harry and I escaped before You-Know-Who could cast a second spell."

"Oh, my God," Hermione whispered, covering her mouth and burying her face in Ron’s shoulder.

"Do not repeat that," Professor McGonagall said. "I need to contact some members of the Order so we can verify it. Find Mr. Potter and wait in the Gryffindor common room until I can get there." With that, she headed stiffly toward the headmaster’s office, with Percy following in her wake.

"Harry must be devastated," Hermione said. "We have to find him, Ron. He’ll do something stupid. We have to stop him."

"Where could he be? I’d say the Quidditch pitch, but he didn’t get his Firebolt, and Neville saw him inside," Ron replied.

"Yeah, he was running up the stairs," Neville said.

"I know where he is," Ginny said quietly, starting to climb the stairs.

"What?" Hermione shrieked. "Where? I have to talk with him-"

"No," Ginny said before she could finish. "Go back to the common room, and I’ll bring him there when he’s ready."

"What do you mean? We’re all going, Ginny. He needs us," Hermione cried, nearly hysterical.

Ginny shook her head. "No. He’s obviously upset, Hermione. You know Harry; he’ll retreat. If all of us converge upon him, he’ll close up even further. He loves both of you very much, you know that, but it’s me he needs right now," Ginny said firmly. Although she was used to speaking her mind, she felt slightly uncomfortable standing up to Hermione about Harry. For years, she’d been the one on the outside looking in at their tightly formed trio, and she still felt slightly intimidated by it. Still, she knew she was right about this. Harry had finally opened up to her about things that had happened in his past. Each night that she’d given him the Dreamless Sleep Potion they’d talked a little more. He’d even told her about the torture at Malfoy Manor, and it was horrible enough to make her return to her own dormitory and cry herself to sleep for all he’d suffered.

He’d talk to her; she knew he would, but not if they all showed up and put pressure on him. He’d close right up if they tried. He needed her; she could feel it.

"Ginny," Hermione said, "I realize that you’re his girlfriend, so of course he needs you, but he needs us, too. We’ve always been there for him."

"Ginny’s right," Ron said, surprising her. She looked up into her brother’s sad blue eyes and was startled to see a tremendous amount of compassion. She was forcefully reminded how much she truly loved her brother. Ron had done a lot of growing up in the past year.

"Ron," Hermione said.

"She’s right, Hermione. Harry does need her right now, just her. We have to think about him, not us at the moment." He turned to Ginny and added, "We’ll be in the common room waiting. Let us know how he is, even if he won’t come back."

Hermione bit on her lip, looking back and forth between Ron and Ginny. Finally, she looked at Ginny and nodded. "Take care of him."

"I will," Ginny said, spontaneously rising on her toes to kiss Ron on the cheek before dashing up the stairs and running for the Room of Requirement.

She paced in front of the tapestry three times, but the door didn’t appear. Ginny stomped her foot in frustration. She simply knew this is where he would go; she felt it. She turned to glare at the spot where the door should be.

"If he’s in there right now, you know what he needs," she said through gritted teeth.

Silently, the door appeared, and she heard the lock unlatch. She let herself inside, and it resealed behind her. The room was dim, lit only by the fire burning in the hearth. A mess of broken shards of glass and torn books were scattered everywhere. In the center of all the destruction sat Harry, huddled on the floor and staring forlornly at the fire. He looked lost, and so terribly alone. She moved into the room cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal.

"Harry," she said tentatively.

He turned, startled, and she could see the unshed tears in his eyes. Somehow, seeing her there caused the dam to break, and he flung himself into her waiting her arms.

"Ginny," he croaked, burying his head in her shoulder and searching for the words. "Professor Dumbledore…"

"Shh, luv. It’s okay; I know. I saw Percy downstairs," she said, stroking his back as her own tears began to fall. He held her tightly, and she could feel his body shuddering, although he made no sound.

"This can’t be happening," he said hoarsely after several silent minutes.

Ginny knew that he liked to be held, and that he liked for her to stroke his hair, but she wasn’t certain how to handle this. If Professor Dumbledore had sacrificed himself for Harry, then it was like Harry’s worst nightmare coming true…again. She wasn’t certain if she should question him or just wait for him to open up on his own. Her silent contemplation took the matter out of her hands when Harry began to speak.

"I always thought there would be more time. I should have known when he finally talked to me about all that stuff with the Dursleys. He knew something, Gin. He knew…and he didn’t tell me."

"What would you have said?" Ginny asked him quietly.

"I wouldn’t have let him do it," Harry said fiercely, his words muffled in her shoulder. "We’d just finally begun to heal…but I thought…how stupid can I be? I should know by now…enough time is never an option! I knew he was sick; I could see it, but…I thought there would be more time." Harry’s voice broke on the final words, and Ginny held him tighter in her arms. She led him over to the couch by the fire and pulled him down beside her.

"I don’t know what to do, Gin," he said brokenly. "I feel like I should be the one to talk to Abe, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say, or how I can face him. What’s going to happen to the Order…or to Hogwarts? He held everyone together. Without him, I’m afraid the Order will turn on each other. I don’t even know which side Snape will choose."

"Harry, those aren’t all your decisions to make. You’re not in this alone. Let the rest of us work out the details. We all loved Professor Dumbledore, and losing him is a shock to everyone. It’s going to take some time, but we’ll get through it, as long as we stick together," Ginny said, sniffling. She’d just gone through the loss of Charlie, and she knew the hardest part had been when they fought with Percy at the memorial. If they’d all gone their separate ways to grieve, she didn’t think any of them would have made it through.

"He’s always had all the answers, even if he didn’t share them. I don’t know how to defeat Voldemort without him," Harry whispered. "I thought he’d be here."

"Yes, you do. The curse is the same, only now…Harry," Ginny said, suddenly realizing. She wiped at her eyes and turned to face him. "Now, Dumbledore is one of the spirits wronged by Voldemort who you can call."

Harry nodded. "I know. I’ve been thinking about it. The role of the servant shall decide. Only, what if it meant that my success depends on whether he sacrificed himself, or he sacrificed me? Maybe if he was alive to help in the end, then I’d kill Voldemort, but he’d also kill me – that would still be a victory for the light. Maybe he was supposed to lead the light after the fall."

"No! Don’t even think that way, Harry."

"I have to. There are too many possibilities. Dumbledore sacrificed himself to save me, so that I can live. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have people keep doing that?"

She could see the devastation on his tear-stained face, and it broke her heart. Ron’s prophecy played in her head and made her stomach knot with worry. The prophecy called for a sacrifice before the final battle took place. If Professor Dumbledore had made the ultimate sacrifice, that had to mean the end was near, and she hoped the headmaster had made the right decision. She couldn’t bear to think about the alternative.

The weight of that decision weighed heavily on her mind, and she had a new appreciation for what Professor Dumbledore must have been going through if he’d suspected. Her eyes filled with tears for her beloved headmaster. She may have been angry with him on occasion for his treatment of Harry, but she knew that he really did what he had to do out of love for him.

Her eyes raked over Harry’s exhausted face. He’d drained his energy along with his tears, and she knew he wasn’t up to facing the others in the common room right now. She tugged on his shoulders until he was resting his head in her lap. "You look knackered, Harry. You sleep and let me keep watch for a while," she whispered, kissing his forehead.

She sat quietly stroking his hair until his breathing deepened, and she was certain he was asleep. She felt bad about leaving Ron and Hermione to worry, but there was no way she was going to leave him alone right now. She needed him as much as he needed her, and she wasn’t moving from this spot. She made herself more comfortable and rested her head on the back of the couch. Ron would get the Marauder’s Map out eventually and come to find her. For now, she was going to go to sleep.

Harry awoke the next morning feeling stiff and slightly disoriented. He wasn’t certain exactly where he was, but he knew he wasn’t in his bed in Gryffindor tower. He lay still for a moment, soaking in the warmth around him, before the memories of the previous night crashed down upon him.

He was lying with his head on Ginny’s lap in the Room of Requirement, still dressed in his party clothes from the previous evening. Ginny was sitting upright, but she was sound asleep, with her head propped on the back of the couch. They’d spent the night together, even if it was innocently. Ron is going to kill me. Even as he had this thought, he was filled with a warm surge that Ginny had stayed with him. He didn’t know what he would have done without her just then.

Harry sat up gingerly, trying not to disturb Ginny’s slumber. He eased himself off the couch and stretched his legs. He had a crick in his neck, but otherwise felt physically all right. The heavy, leaden weight on his heart was another matter entirely.

Professor Dumbledore is dead.

The words sounded hollow in his mind. How could this be happening? How could they all survive and do what they had to do without Dumbledore? There had been some other Order members there when Voldemort attacked last night, so word of Professor Dumbledore’s death would have spread. He had to find Professor McGonagall and find out what was happening. He wanted to know about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before Ginny woke up, as well.

Please. He wasn’t even certain to whom he was praying, but he needed for the Weasleys – all the Weasleys – to be all right.

He walked over toward the door and opened it, only to find Ron and Hermione both sitting in the hallway. They jumped to their feet when they saw him and entered the room. Harry was too stunned to stop them.

Hermione’s gaze wandered over the condition of the room and searched his face warily. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Ron started at Ginny, still asleep on the couch.

"I’m okay," Harry said. "We must have fallen asleep. Nothing happened, Ron. Honestly, we just slept."

Ron waved a hand in the air. "I know, mate. I was here for a while last night, trying to convince Ginny to go back to the dormitory. I told her I’d stay with you, but she wouldn’t leave. Don’t make a habit of it, though."

Harry nodded without speaking.

"You’ve heard?" he asked. That numb, disconnected feeling had returned, and he almost felt as if he were watching someone else having this conversation.

"Yeah. We spoke with Percy and Professor McGonagall last night, then she made an announcement at breakfast this morning. All classes are cancelled until further notice," Ron said, eyeing Harry cautiously.

"Everyone is just stunned. Nobody even moved from the Great Hall – not even the Slytherins," Hermione whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Harry nodded woodenly.

"Professor McGonagall is calling an emergency meeting of the Order today. She said she wants you to be there. I got an owl from Fred this morning. The rest of the family will all be at the meeting, but they wanted to know how you are," Ron said. He was trying to catch Harry’s eye, but Harry just couldn’t look at him. Although he was happy to hear the Weasleys were safe, a lump had formed in this throat at the idea of telling the rest of the Order exactly what had happened. He wasn’t certain how many of them knew about the second prophecy, and he really didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t seem to force his mind to focus.

"Harry?" came Ginny’s groggy voice from where she still rested on the couch.

"I’m here, Ginny," he said quietly. "Ron and Hermione are here, too."

Ginny pulled herself off the couch and walked over to the trio. She wrapped her arm around Harry’s waist and looked up into his eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I’m fine."

Ginny smiled sadly and pulled his waist closer to her side. "Did you tell him about the Order meeting?" she asked Ron.

"Yeah. We should probably head up to Dum…to Professor Dumbledore’s office now," Ron replied.

"If you two want to go down to the Great Hall, you can still catch the end of breakfast," Hermione said.

"I’m not hungry," Harry replied. "You go, Ginny. Get something to eat, and I’ll tell you about the meeting after its over."

"No. We’re going with you," Ginny said firmly.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, knowing they wouldn’t be allowed to attend an Order meeting, but Ginny put her hand over his mouth to stop his words.

"You’re not doing this alone, Harry. We’re coming with you."

"She’s right, mate. We’ve all got a stake in this one, and I want to know what’s going on," Ron said, giving Harry’s shoulder a brief pat. "Besides, I want to hear what Percy has to say."

"Percy?" Harry asked. "He was the one who gave me the portkey out of there last night."

"We know," Ron said, scowling. "We just don’t know why he did it."

Harry shrugged. "He said Dumbledore told him I wasn’t ready."

"Yeah, but since when has that stopped Percy?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged again listlessly. "I dunno. He’s been different since we were attacked at the Ministry. Last night, I saw him watching the rest of your family several times. I think he might finally be coming to his senses."

"Yeah, well, too little, too late. That’s what I say," Ron said, folding his arms across his chest.

Hermione frowned, but, to her credit, she held her tongue and grasped Ron’s hand.

"Let’s not jump to any conclusions until we hear what he has to say," Ginny said. "Let’s go find Professor McGonagall."

When they reached the entrance to the headmaster’s office, the gargoyle sprang aside as if expecting them. They rode the twirling staircase in silence – each lost in his or her own thoughts. Harry still felt that odd, disconnected sensation; he was numb, but preferred it that way.

As they entered the office, they found that several of the Order members had already arrived. All eyes turned toward Harry as he walked in the door, and his hand instinctively reached for Ginny’s. She laced her fingers with his and gave a small squeeze of reassurance. The thudding in his heart eased, and he took a deep breath.

Snape stood in a corner, scowling as he stared out the window. He didn’t even spare Harry a glance when he entered the room. Professor McGonagall stood by Professor Dumbledore’s desk with Mad-Eye Moody and Emmeline Vance, looking over some papers that were scattered on top. Tonks and Remus sat on the couch with their heads bent; both stood up as the teens entered the room. Tonks’s hair was blonde, making her appear very much like a Malfoy. She looked tired and disheveled, with dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Harry," Remus said, wrapping him in a one-armed embrace. Harry’s body stiffened momentarily; he didn’t want to be touched. From the corner of his eye, he saw Remus glance at Ginny. Ginny shook her head slightly, and Remus took a step back. Harry couldn’t even find the energy to be annoyed at them for silently discussing him as if he weren’t there.

"How are you holding up, Harry?" Remus asked quietly.

"I’m fine," Harry said.

The flames in the fireplace flared, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entered the office, followed by Bill, Fred, and George.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, rushing forward to grab him. "Thank Merlin you’re all right. I was so worried."

Ginny stepped in front of her mother and stopped her forward motion. "Hi, Mum," she said, intercepting the hug that was meant for Harry, for which he was eternally grateful.

"Oh, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said, squeezing Ginny so tightly she nearly disappeared. "This is so awful."

Ron stepped forward to hug his mother before turning to his father and brothers. "You’re all okay?"

"We’re fine," Mr. Weasley said, looking rather haggard. "We stayed and helped with the clean-up after the Death Eaters left."

"They all left really quickly after you disappeared," George said. "You-Know-Who was in a rage, and I think the Death Eaters knew they were going to bear the brunt of it."

"Where is Percy?" Mr. Weasley asked, turning towards Professor McGonagall.

"Percy has been put in the faculty residence for the moment. We have some things we need to discuss before I take you over to see him," she replied.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, wringing her hands. She looked quickly over at Bill, who scowled and turned away.

"All right. Why don’t you children go back to Gryffindor tower, and I’ll stop by when we’re finished here," Mrs. Weasley said, trying to usher them towards the door.

Harry clutched Ginny’s hand tightly, gaining strength and reassurance. "I think they need to hear this, Mrs. Weasley," he said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley was taken aback. "Well…of course we need to hear from you, dear, but I think-"

"It is obvious we are moving towards a final resolution, and all four are regrettably involved with the second spell," Snape said from his spot at the window, without turning around. "Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to have all these…children… disappear from my sight, but for some incomprehensible reason, it appears Mr. Potter and his cohorts are to remain in the limelight, yet again."

Harry’s ire rose slightly with Snape’s insinuation that he wanted any glory from this mess, but the wave of lethargy that he’d been dealing with all morning descended again, and he focused his eyes back on Mrs. Weasley. "They need to stay; I need them to stay," he said quietly.

He could see Mrs. Weasley’s conflicting emotions, but Mr. Weasley approached and wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. "Why don’t you all come and sit over here with us," he said, leading them all to some chairs.

Mrs. Weasley looked at Mr. Weasley uncertainly, but then her shoulders seemed to droop in concession, and she followed him to the chairs he had indicated.

The fire flared again, and Abe entered the office with Cordelia. Although his eyes seemed somewhat dimmed and less mischievous, he still wore bright colors and had a smile on his face. Cordelia was more subdued, and Harry noticed that her eyes followed Abe’s every step.

"Hello, everyone. How are we all doing?" Abe asked.

"Aberforth, we’re all so sorry for your loss," Mrs. Weasley said. "If there is anything any of us can do…"

"Thank you, Molly. The only thing any of you can really do right now is getting those glum expressions off of your faces. Al wouldn’t have liked that. He never liked to see anyone suffer, and I’m certain that he’s right now soaking up everything there is to learn about the afterworld. He kept his thirst for knowledge right up until the end."

Harry had to look away. He found it unbearably painful, listening to Abe talk about Professor Dumbledore in the past tense. He heard Ginny sniffling beside him and leaned his shoulder into hers.

Abe noticed his movement and walked over to stand in front of him. "How are you holding up, laddie?"

Harry stared at his trainers, realizing that he was already in need of another pair. "Fine, sir. I’m sorry," Harry mumbled.

Abe rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry about. He was so proud of you, lad. He thought the sun rose and set just for you."

Harry blinked rapidly and felt Ginny’s arm wrap around his waist. Abe took pity on him and said, "We’ll talk later."

He gave Harry’s shoulder a final squeeze and turned back to Professor McGonagall. "So, what do we do now?"

Professor McGonagall blinked back tears and said, "The wards – the first thing we have to do is strengthen the wards. Technically, the wards set by Professor Dumbledore will hold for several more weeks. They are designed to give us time to get a new headmaster in place. With the upheaval that is taking place at the Ministry, I’m not certain how long it will take for the Board of Governors to act. As Deputy Headmistress, I’m authorized to act in the meantime, but anything I put in place will be null and void if someone else takes over. I think our best bet would be to leave Professor Dumbledore’s wards in place and add some extra security measures of our own."

"What upheaval at the Ministry?" Harry asked sharply.

"Having You-Know-Who attack the Ministry at a well publicized event that Cornelius Fudge arranged isn’t going over well. With the loss of Professor Dumbledore and so many Aurors, never mind the civilian casualties…well, Cornelius isn’t going to be able to dodge this one. I think the Vote of No Confidence will take place within the week," Mr. Weasley said.

"How many Aurors?" Harry asked numbly, remembering the frequency of Killing Curses he’d seen hurtling throughout the room.

"Most of the ones on duty in the hall," Tonks said tearfully. "I only survived because I tripped when the curses started flying, and the Death Eaters walked right past me, thinking I was already dead. Kingsley wasn’t so lucky."

Harry shut his eyes, remembering how Shacklebolt had saved him from a room full of overeager witches earlier in the evening. "I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized."

"It’s been a long night for all of us," Professor McGonagall said, wiping at the corner of her eye.

"I can help you strengthen the wards in the meantime. Professor Dumbledore showed me how it was done," Harry said.

"That would be appreciated, Mr. Potter. Also, Ivan Horvath wants to meet with you. I told him I’d get him word if you wanted to see him," Professor McGonagall said.

"Of course. Is he here now?" Harry asked.

"No, he isn’t here, Potter," Snape sneered, finally turning from his place at the window. "Ivan Horvath is a vampire and cannot be trusted in a school. He may have had an agreement with Professor Dumbledore, but that doesn’t hold for the rest of us."

"Of course he can be trusted," Harry snapped back. "He tried to warn us last night that there was going to be trouble, but the Ministry wouldn’t allow him inside. If they had, maybe we could have stopped this. Professor McGonagall, we can’t go against everything that Professor Dumbledore stood for. Let Ivan into the castle; I’ll stay with him the whole time."

"You, Potter? Your arrogance really has surpassed even your father’s. Exactly what do you propose to do if the vampire decides to go on a feeding frenzy and start with you?" Snape asked.

"He won’t," Harry said firmly. He could see the discomfort on some of the other’s faces, Mrs. Weasley included, but they all appeared ready to trust his judgement. It was a surreal experience for Harry.

"All right, Mr. Potter; I’ll let him know," Professor McGonagall said, causing Snape to scowl and turn away once again.

"If Fudge is truly out, then that’s a good thing, right?" Harry asked. He felt as if he was in over his head. He knew nothing about politics, except never to trust a politician. That was a hard-learned lesson.

"It depends on whom they get to replace him," Snape replied caustically. "I think our first order of business – after we see to the wards – is to determine if this second prophecy has been fulfilled by the headmaster’s sacrifice."

Harry’s eyes widened; he wasn’t certain who knew of the existence of Ron’s prophecy, but obviously Snape did.

"Second prophecy?" asked Remus. "What second prophecy?"

"There was a second prophecy made recently regarding the destruction of the Dark Lord," Professor McGonagall said quietly, glancing briefly at Ron.

"What did it say?" Remus asked, glancing at Harry in alarm.

"THE TIME DRAWS NEAR…THE SERVANT SHALL BE SACRIFICIED TO PREPARE FOR A NEW DAWN…THE AGE OF DARKNESS OR LIGHT IS UPON US…THE ROLE OF THE SERVANT SHALL DECIDE AND THE MIGHTY WILL FALL…HE MUST CHOOSE WISELY IF THE APPRENTICE SHALL REIGN," Snape repeated.

"Professor Dumbledore and I discussed this at length. We were fairly certain that the sacrifice referred to either him or me, and that Potter is the apprentice. The headmaster made his decision, and now it appears it’s up to you, Potter," Snape said, disdain easily heard in his voice.

Harry swallowed painfully; it had never occurred to him that Snape could have been the sacrifice, and he had to admit that he wasn’t one hundred percent certain which way Snape would have chosen. "So…here we go."

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all moved closer to Harry, as if their physical proximity could somehow bring him strength.

"The headmaster was also concerned with Mr. Potter’s welfare, if indeed he ended up being the sacrifice. He was concerned that with Professor Dumbledore out of the way, the Ministry would make a bid to take Potter into custody once again. He said if that happens, that Aberforth would know what to do," Snape said, sneering at Abe. It was obvious Snape didn’t like being left in the dark with any of the details.

"Aye, Al and I talked about it. Of course, Al hadn’t foreseen that ole Cornelius would lose his power at the same time. I think the public will be a far greater threat to Harry than the Ministry at the moment," Abe said, grimacing apologetically at Harry.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Use your brain and think about it, Potter," Snape said disdainfully, earning scowls from several other Order members. "The public is panicked. The Dark Lord attacked the Ministry when it was under full guard. Despite the prophecy, many still believed it was Dumbledore who could protect them. With him gone, they’ll focus on you and want you to do something immediately."

Harry thought about it for a minute. Would that really be such a bad thing? He was ready – at least as ready as he ever would be. "Maybe we should do something now," he said quietly.

"No!" Ginny shouted, grabbing Harry’s arm, "Not like this, Harry."

"As much as it pains me to say it, I’m afraid Miss Weasley is right," Snape said. "We need the time to look at this prophecy and make certain all our pieces are in place. We only get one chance."

"It’s like a game of chess," Ron said, furrowing his brow.

"You need some time to come to grips with Al’s loss, as well, Harry," Abe said kindly. "Your strength comes from your emotions, and your emotions are in turmoil at the moment. I don’t like the odds at this point."

Harry nodded reluctantly; he couldn’t deny that his feelings were all over the place, and he barely knew if he was coming or going.

"What about a service for Albus?" asked Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes were filled with fear as she stared at Harry and her children. "It’s bound to be a large event. Do you think Voldemort would attack?"

"Not unless it is known that Mr. Potter will be there. I’d suggest you stay away," Snape said silkily. "The Dark Lord will want the headmaster’s memorial to be large and widespread. It will fuel his ego if he believes everyone is talking about how he defeated one whom many consider to be the greatest wizard of our time."

Harry shut his eyes. He didn’t want to be excluded from Professor Dumbledore’s memorial service, but he knew it was an unnecessary risk. He couldn’t deny everyone else the chance to pay their respects.

"It’s all right, laddie," Abe said. "Al’s body will be delivered to me within the next day or two, and I’ll scatter his ashes here at Hogwarts. Al requested that you be part of that ceremony, along with Professors McGonagall and Snape."

Harry nodded numbly. It would most likely be better to say goodbye in private, rather than in front of a huge crowd, but Harry simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He suddenly felt overwhelmingly exhausted and wished he could leave to return to Gryffindor tower. He felt as if it had been years rather than hours since he’d been there.

"Arthur, you’ll keep us informed of any happenings at the Ministry?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Of course. Minerva, what about Percy?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Why don’t we adjourn for now, and I’ll take you to see him. I’ve asked him to stay here until we can figure out where the safest place for him to stay will be. You-Know-Who won’t be happy that he facilitated Mr. Potter’s escape. Abe, you’ll let us know when you hear from the Ministry about Albus’s body?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Will do," Abe replied.

"I’m going to begin making arrangements for the service," Cordelia said. "The Ministry will probably want some say in that, as well, but they’re so disorganized at the moment that I can get things the way we’d like and they’ll be just as happy that they don’t have to do it," Cordelia said.

"Very well, then. We’ll all be in touch," Professor McGonagall said, calling the meeting to a close. "Severus, can I trust you’ll begin making preparations for the wards?"

"Of course." Snape pulled some parchment from his robes. "I’ve already begun sketching the areas I think require immediate attention. I’ll leave them here on the desk."

Harry glanced down to see some rough sketches of Hogwarts and the gates leading to Hogsmeade. There was something oddly familiar about the drawings, but Harry’s brain was too overloaded to figure it out at the moment.

"You look tired, Harry," Remus said gently. "Why don’t you all go up to Gryffindor tower and get some sleep? I’ll be in touch."

Harry nodded mutely and allowed Ginny to lead him from the room. The four made their way silently back to Gryffindor tower. Ginny had to steer Harry along, or he would have got lost despite having made the trek hundreds of times before. Looking at the faces of the other three, Harry could see the same numb shock that he was feeling. He needed to sleep; they all did.

It was two days later that Harry stood on top of the Astronomy Tower with Abe, Professors McGonagall and Snape, and Ginny and Cordelia. They all stood around Professor Dumbledore’s body, preparing for the wizarding ceremony before returning his ashes to the earth. Abe said that Professor Dumbledore loved Hogwarts best of all, so this is where his magic should remain.

Harry, Abe, and his two professors all had their broomsticks with them and would each take some of Professor Dumbledore’s ashes to scatter where they saw fit. Although not taking part in the actual ceremony, Ginny and Cordelia were there to offer their support, and Harry was glad for it. Ginny had been the only bright spot in his life these past several days.

Life had been chaotic at best since the school and the rest of the world had awoken to the news of Professor Dumbledore’s demise. At first, there was nothing but horror and numb disbelief. But, quicker than Harry would have thought possible, the demands had begun. There were again reporters camped outside Hogwart’s gates, clamoring for an interview with Harry. The public outcry that both Snape and Abe had warned him about indeed came to pass and included some from the students. Fellow classmates demanding that he do something had stopped him in the hallway on more than one occasion.

Rita Skeeter had briefly veered away from Harry to cover Cornelius Fudge and his shameful exit from the Ministry. She had, however, repeatedly pointed out the fact that Harry had been there but had left before stopping Voldemort. An unnamed Auror had argued that Harry had saved more lives by leaving because Voldemort left immediately after he did, but Harry knew that answer wouldn’t stop Rita for long.

He’d taken Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna aside and filled the latter two in about what had been happening. He’d told them about the wards surrounding Hogwarts and asked that they get the DA together – without telling them exactly what was happening – in order to arrange added patrols. The prefects already did regular patrols, but he thought the added precautions were necessary. They all had to practice constant vigilance and warn the others of anything that seemed even slightly suspicious.

All classes had been cancelled for the week, out of respect for Professor Dumbledore. Ginny had spent nearly all her waking hours by Harry’s side, and they’d taken turns leaning on each other. In was now Tuesday, and the public funeral had been scheduled for Friday. Harry wouldn’t be able to attend, but many of the students were planning on going with their families. Ron and Ginny were staying behind with Harry for security reasons, but Hermione, Neville and Luna were planning to attend.

Abe stood at Professor Dumbledore’s head with his wand out. Professor Dumbledore’s body had been preserved remarkably well. If Harry hadn’t known differently, he would have assumed that Dumbledore was merely sleeping. Despite all the death he’d experienced in his life, this was the closest he’d ever actually been to it. He really didn’t want to look at Professor Dumbledore’s still, waxy form, but he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away, either. Harry’s shock had given way to a deep, age-old sadness, as if a black shroud was hovering over his soul. He was grateful when Abe started to speak.

"The spell is simple," he said to Harry in a very subdued voice. "Those participating in the spell draw their wands and say a few words about the wizard. After we’ve all spoken, we’ll place our wands above him and say, Postliminium Favilla. You can watch us, Harry, and after you’ve spoken we’ll cast the spell."

Harry nodded mutely and felt Ginny move to stand by his side.

"Al, dear brother, I return thee to the earth. You always gave us all something to think about. Enjoy your next adventure without the weight of the world on your shoulders. Leave something there for me to do first," Abe said, bowing his head.

"Albus, dear mentor, friend, lover," Professor McGonagall said, causing both Harry’s and Ginny’s eyes to widen. "I return thee to the earth. Be happy, watch over us, and may you never lose your sparkle." She stood by Professor Dumbledore’s feet and she gently patted one. Harry noticed that he was wearing a pair of thick, woolen socks, and a huge lump formed in Harry’s throat. He blinked his eyes quickly, willing the tears to recede.

"Albus, dear friend, ally, and teacher." Snape’s voice was scratchy and raw and held far less venom than Harry was accustomed to hearing. "I return thee to the earth. You believed when no else could, and for that you will forever have my gratitude."

Harry took a deep breath, feeling slightly panicked over what to say. What was Dumbledore to him? How was he supposed to put it into words? Everyone was waiting for him, and he felt Ginny give his hand a squeeze.

"Professor Dumbledore, dear mentor, teacher…friend. I return thee to the earth. You were always there for me…even if I didn’t always agree with you. You’ll never be forgotten, and all our lives are richer for having known you. Enjoy your adventure, sir. I hope you’re with everyone you’ve loved." Harry throat really hurt, and he had to stop before he embarrassed himself. Ginny was crying openly next to him, and he pulled her body close to his, both taking and giving comfort.

The four participants raised their wands above Professor Dumbledore’s body and said, "Postliminium Favilla." The air surrounding them swirled, and a tremendous calmness took hold. Harry felt peaceful, the tight knot in his chest eased suddenly. A brilliant flare of light caused him to shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, Professor Dumbledore was gone. Instead, four piles of ashes lay in front of them.

Abe cleared his throat and touched his wand to one pile of the ash. The wand appeared to absorb it. Cordelia hugged Abe tightly as he mounted his broom and took off without a word. Professors McGonagall and Snape did the same. Finally, Harry touched his wand to the last remaining pile of ash. He looked questioningly at Cordelia.

She sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Fly to a place where you think he had fond memories, Harry, and say Exonero Favilla."

Harry nodded. Gripping his Firebolt tightly, he took off into the wind. He soared higher and higher, feeling some of the tension leave him as he took flight. Flying always made him feel better. He soared over Hogwarts, scanning the area around him. Where would Professor Dumbledore be happy? If it were him, he’d want to be scattered over the Quidditch pitch, but what would Professor Dumbledore want?

Hogwarts itself made Dumbledore happiest, and he always seemed to be everywhere. He imagined Professors McGonagall and Snape would cover the school, and Abe would take care of any hidden spots that Harry wasn’t familiar with, so where should he go? He remembered Professors Dumbledore’s smiling face when they won the Quidditch cup in Harry’s third year. Professor Dumbledore always came to all the games. Maybe this was one more way he and the headmaster were alike.

His decision made, Harry raced for the Quidditch pitch. A brilliant flash of light startled him, and Fawkes appeared by his side. They flew together in silence until they reached the pitch. Harry raised his wand and shouted, "Exonero Favilla!"

Fawkes began to sing a beautiful, haunting melody that calmed Harry’s turbulent emotions. He watched as a trail of ashes flew from his wand and scattered in the breeze. With sudden inspiration, Harry raced his broom over Hagrid’s hut and released the last of the ashes. Professor Dumbledore always had a soft spot for Hagrid. As Harry returned to the Astronomy tower, Fawkes followed him and settled on his shoulder when he dismounted.

Ginny came to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

"I think," Abe said huskily, "that Al would have enjoyed that. He liked a big party, and I’m certain he’ll be plenty chuffed to hear what everyone has to say at his memorial, but he also liked smaller, more intimate family moments. This certainly qualified."

Professor McGonagall choked back a sob, and Harry was shocked to see Professor Snape wrap his arm around her shoulder. Professor Dumbledore’s death had finally made Harry see a glimpse of the man that Dumbledore had seen inside Snape.

He quietly returned to the castle with Ginny, Fawkes remaining on his shoulder; it had been an incredibly long day.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: It Begins...

The atmosphere in the castle remained subdued for several weeks after the death of Professor Dumbledore. As February turned into March, and Ron celebrated his eighteenth birthday, some things began to return to normal. Life in the general wizarding world mirrored life at Hogwarts. No one quite knew what to do, and everyone lived on pins and needles, waiting for something else to happen.

Harry had felt as if he were walking around in a trance for several days after Professor Dumbledore’s service. He would momentarily forget until some stray thought or memory would remind him, and the truth would crash down upon his heart. Still, he owed it to Professor Dumbledore to do what he had to do and not let Voldemort win.

He threw himself into his training with a vengeance. Fawkes had appeared unbidden at each training session, and Harry felt his powers throb with new energy. Magic coursed through his veins and strengthened, as each day would pass. It didn’t matter what the Ministry was doing; he needed to be ready, because Voldemort wouldn’t wait forever.

Fudge had received a Vote of No Confidence and had finally been removed from office. Too little, too late, most – Harry included – thought bitterly. Voldemort had been surprisingly quiet in the wake of Professor Dumbledore’s funeral, and it had everyone in the Order on edge. Harry’s scar had burned intensely for several days after the Ministry gala, and Snape had reported that Voldemort was taking out his fury over Harry’s escape on his followers. After the funeral, however, Harry had felt nothing.

It was disconcerting, and Harry wasn’t the one only who felt it. People were skittish, suspicious of everyone and anything. There had been more than one panic riot resulting in several deaths from the stampeding masses, yet no Death Eaters had actually appeared. Harry didn’t know what he was waiting for, but Voldemort’s silence was causing a widespread panic.

Amelia Bones had been elected Minister of Magic. Harry didn’t know her well, but Tonks had said she was fair, and she had to be an improvement over Cornelius Fudge. Her first act had been to give more power to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Aurors were trying both to keep the peace, as well as capture and contain the Death Eaters. She was much more receptive to the Order than Fudge had been and left no doubt that she would accept their aid. What pleased Harry the most was that a lot of the media attention had been refocused towards Madam Bones and away from him for a moment.

The Hogwarts Board of Governors had officially appointed Professor McGonagall as new Headmistress, with Professor Flitwick taking over the Deputy Headmaster position. It was done quickly and without much fanfare. Harry suspected that no one wanted to deal with the problem right now, so they gave the job to Professor McGonagall, who was doing it, anyway. Harry thought it was rather unfair to Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall had also been keeping Harry informed about what was happening within the Order. They hadn’t appointed any one leader, instead each member utilized their own particular strengths to keep things moving. Professor McGonagall said it wouldn’t work forever, but it was working at the moment. She was Harry’s contact to the Order within Hogwarts, so she was the one he went to with his questions and concerns.

Students had been listless when classes had first resumed, but as the reality of NEWTs and OWLs approached, the teachers began giving homework in earnest. Hermione – the only student who hadn’t taken a bit of reprieve with her revising – handed out study schedules to both Ron and Harry. Although they rolled their eyes, they knew she’d see to it that they at least passed. Harry knew that no matter how much she complained about their study habits, Hermione enjoyed their dependency upon her.

Harry had been uncertain how to act around Professors McGonagall and Snape following the memorial service. He’d seen a human side to them that most students never would, and he wasn’t certain how to respond in class. He’d spent a lot of time with Professor McGonagall discussing the Order, and the awkwardness vanished quickly. If he caught her in unguarded moments, she’d even grant him a faint smile on occasion.

Professor Snape was another matter entirely. In Harry’s first Defense class after the funeral, Harry had been caught talking to Ron during class. Snape made a snide comment on the fact that he’d never be ready to duel the Dark Lord if he couldn’t even stop discussing his press clippings long enough to learn some proper dueling techniques. Harry’s temper rose, but he kept it in check. One thing he’d noticed since Fawkes had joined him in his dormitory was that whenever his temper stirred, he’d hear a brief, calming trill of song and his temper became easier to control.

Quidditch practices had resumed, and Gryffindor’s match against Ravenclaw at the end of the month was rapidly approaching. Harry, Ron and Ginny had all thrown themselves into the practices to take their minds off of everything else that was happening around them.

The morning of the match dawned cloudy, but unseasonably warm. Both Ron and Harry were out of bed extra early and dressed in their Quidditch gear to await the arrival of Fred and George in the entrance hall. The twins had said they were coming to the match, but they wanted a chance to speak with Percy first. Ron had insisted on being present, and Harry thought he should join them, just in case.

He hadn’t seen Percy since that night, and he still wasn’t certain what to make of him. He’d most likely saved Harry’s life that night, but he’d also almost cost Ginny hers on the day of their Apparation tests, so Harry’s feelings were torn. He wanted to see Percy and talk to him in person before making any decisions.

The Weasley brothers weren’t feeling nearly as forgiving as Harry. Ron had been furious to know that Percy was taking sanctuary at Hogwarts when he had been ready to throw Harry to the wolves only months earlier. Fred and George hadn’t stopped coming up with ideas on how to even the score with Percy, but it was Bill’s attitude that had surprised Harry the most.

Bill was livid with Percy. He’d even refused to go with his parents that first night to speak with him. So far, only Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had had any kind of communication with the errant Weasley brother. Both had told the others that Percy was sorry and that he’d realized the error of his ways, but none of the others were ready to forgive him.

Until Ginny reminded him, Harry had forgotten that Percy had tried to blame Jacqueline for the attack at the Ministry in which Ginny had been hurt. Harry felt guilty that he hadn’t even thought about Jacqueline in quite some time. So much had happened since then. Ginny told him that although Jacqueline hadn’t got any memory of what had happened to her back, Bill had said that she muttered in her sleep about lunar cycles. Harry had no idea what that could mean, but remembered Remus going out as an envoy to the werewolves around the same time.

Professor McGonagall had told Harry that Professor Dumbledore had arranged it so that Percy used the floo directly into Professor Dumbledore’s office each time he had attended one of Harry’s training sessions. That way, he’d had a few moments each visit to talk with Percy and try to guide him towards the truth about what was happening. He’d said that after the attack at the Ministry where Ginny had been hut, Percy was shook. He wasn’t ready to abandon everything he’d so staunchly believed in, but Professor Dumbledore had sensed a weakening, and so he pressed it.

The thought that Professor Dumbledore was quietly trying to reunite the Weasley family behind the scenes was so like him, and Harry had to blink to clear his vision.

"Morning, little brothers," Fred said as he and George entered the castle.

"And how are you lot doing this fine morning?" George asked. "Are you ready to show Ravenclaw how it’s done?"

"They won’t know what hit them," Ron said, grinning.

"I think everyone is looking forward to this match," Harry said.

"Yeah. People need a good distraction, so don’t let us down," George replied.

"And remember – we’re always good for a distraction. Anything you might need can-" Fred said, before Ron interrupted.

"All right, all right. So, why do you need to see Percy?"

"Percy seems to have Mum and Dad thoroughly convinced that he’s on the up and up. We want to decide for ourselves if he’s pulling anything over on them. I don’t want to see Mum hurt by that git again," George said.

"So, we thought we’d talk to him on our own; we can be very persuasive when we need to be. Besides, I think Bill might actually kill him when he finally sees him, and I want to know how much I should cheer him on," Fred replied, and Harry wasn’t certain how serious he was.

"I know that he’s staying in the faculty wing – we saw him on the Marauder’s map – but I have no idea how to get there," Ron said.

"Not to worry, little brother; we do," Fred said.

"Why doesn’t that surprise me?" muttered Harry.

Fred and George grinned evilly and led them to the second floor, where they stopped at a portrait of an aristocratic-looking witch carrying a parasol and sipping a cup of tea. She regarded them coolly from behind lowered lashes, but didn’t speak.

"Cornish Pixies," George said, and the portrait swung open.

Harry merely shook his head as he followed the twins inside. "Do I even want to know how you got that password?"

"Probably not," George answered.

"In fact, as Head Boy-" started Fred.

"Which we’re still so disappointed in you about, Harrikins," George interrupted.

"You’d probably have to deduct points from yourself if you knew. Of course, being the concerned, older almost-brothers that we are, we’d never dream of getting you into trouble," Fred said with a wink.

"So, we think it would be best if we just kept that secret to ourselves," said George.

They had arrived at a door without a nameplate. Fred banged on it, hard. "Open up, Percy. We know you’re in there."

After Fred banged again, the door creaked open, and a very gaunt-looking Percy peered out into the corridor. Fred and George didn’t give him the choice of whether or not to let them in the room. As if by unspoken agreement, they both pushed on the door, and Percy stumbled back a few steps when the door swung open wide.

He pulled himself upright and glanced at his brothers warily. "What can I do for you?" he asked, sounding somewhat shaky. He must have known that he didn’t sound confident, for he stuck out his chest and raised his chin in defiance.

"Aww, Perce, is that any way to welcome your family?" Fred asked, sounding anything but like family.

"Yeah. You’ve been here for a few weeks, and we haven’t even been invited over for tea. Right inhospitable of you, Percy, and I know you were raised better than that," George said, plopping down on an overstuffed chair and conjuring a bowl of popcorn. He proceeded to toss the kernels in the air one by one, catching them in his mouth as they fell.

"Look, I’ve spoken with Mother and Father, and we were able to come to an understanding. They told me that you lot weren’t ready to reconcile, so if you’re only here to row, you can just leave," Percy said. He tried to sound pompous, but the dejected slump of his shoulders tugged at Harry’s consciousness.

"Yeah, well, Mum and Dad would have forgiven you no matter what you’ve done; we’re not that blind," Ron said angrily. Of the three brothers, Harry could easily see that Ron was the angriest.

"And I think a little rowing is more than overdue," George snapped. Harry hadn’t seen him that genuinely angry since that time on the Quidditch pitch in fifth year, when Umbridge had banned them for fighting with Malfoy.

"What do you lot want me to say?" Percy demanded. "You aren’t going to let go and move on, no matter what I say."

"How about starting by telling us how much of an idiot you’ve been," Fred said.

"And how you can barely live with yourself when you think how you treated your family, particularly since they were right, and you were wrong," added George.

"And what a git you were, writing me that letter saying all that horrible stuff about Harry. He read it, you know," Ron said, scowling and crossing his arms across his chest.

Percy’s eyes flickered briefly over to Harry, who remained silent. He’d had the chance to work out a lot of his aggression towards Percy while dueling, and he thought that Percy’s brothers deserved the chance to do the same. Besides, he still wasn’t certain what to make of Percy getting him out of the gala the night Dumbledore died. Even if the Weasley brothers decided to forgive him, he deserved a bit of grief for his actions first.

"Yeah, and then I think you owe Ginny an apology for letting her get hurt at the Ministry when you were supposed to be escorting her," Fred snapped.

"Wait just one minute," Percy said, finally losing control of his temper and whirling on Fred. "I never meant for Ginny to get hurt. Merlin, do you know how much I…the Ministry was supposed to have been secure, and they were only going to the checkpoint. Despite how far estranged we’ve become, you can’t believe that I would ever willingly let anything happen to Ron or Ginny."

"I don’t know what to believe when it comes to you anymore, Percy," George said. "What I do know is that you were supposed to keep an eye on them, you dropped the ball, and she got hurt."

Percy looked like he was going to answer back, but then his shoulders slumped, and he dropped his head. "I know," he whispered, agonized. "Believe me, I’ve gone over every possible scenario in my head…and it always comes back the same way. Ginny got hurt, and I wasn’t there to help her…again. You were," he said, looking right at Harry, "again."

"’Bout time you noticed that," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I did finally notice. Is that what you wanted me to say?" Percy shouted. "It still doesn’t change the fact that he did drag our whole family into this thing. They never had to be right on the front line, and they never would have been if it weren’t for him. I tried to warn them because I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, but they wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t even hear a word against him."

"And did it ever occur to you that it was because he was right?" asked George. "Didn’t Dumbledore tell us a long time ago that we’d have to choose between what was right and what was easy? You chose what was easy."

"I chose what I thought was right at the time," Percy snapped, a bright flush staining his skin.

"Really? You thought belittling Dad was right? You thought returning Mum’s Christmas jumpers without even opening them was right?" Fred asked, the venom in his voice growing with each question. "I think you were always a little jealous of how fond Mum is of Harry, Perce. Didn’t it tread on what you thought was your spot just a little?"

"You’re mad," Percy said, although he refused to meet Fred’s eyes.

"Is he? Maybe the reason Mum is so fond of Harry is because he treats her so well; he gives her what she craves. She starts working on those bloody jumpers in July. Did you realize that? She puts every free minute she has into them, and she’s so proud to give them to us. Most of us roll our eyes or complain about the color," George said, looking at Ron, who turned away, abashed. "Or stuff it in a drawer and pretend she hadn’t sent it," he said, his eyes turning back to Percy. "Harry always has a genuine look of sheer delight on his face when he opens one."

George turned away from Percy to look at Harry. "Now, Harry, I know those cretins you lived with never gave you much, but even so, you give her that reaction that she’s always wanted from us. You show her that you appreciate her. Of course she’s going to have a soft spot in her heart for you."

Harry didn’t know how to respond. He was always pleased to get a Weasley jumper; he liked that she thought of him, but he didn’t think there was anything special about his reaction. A vivid flashback of his first year, when Fred and George forced Percy to wear his new Christmas jumper, sprang into his mind. Maybe Fred and George were a lot more thoughtful than they let on.

"Mum does want you back. I don’t know why, but she does. But so help me, if you hurt her again…I’ll make certain you don’t live to do it again," Fred said.

Percy looked over at Harry. "What about you, Harry? I know I’ve treated you despicably, and I have no right to expect anything from you, but…do you think you could ever…try and forgive me?"

Harry swallowed and looked Percy directly in the eye. "I want to, Percy. I know it would make your parents happy, and I think it would make Ginny happy, too. But you have to win her over first. I believe that you’re sorry, and I certainly know a lot about regretting your actions after the fact, but Ginny got hurt. I can’t just let that go until I see some effort on your part to repair the rift between you. She’s already lost one brother; I don’t want her to completely lose another."

Percy remained silent for what seemed like a long time, staring at Harry intently all the while. Harry wouldn’t back down and held his gaze, until Percy finally said, "When did you two fall so completely for each other?"

"Huh?"

"I’ve already spoken with Ginny. She came down here to visit with me last week," Percy said.

Harry was surprised. He hadn’t known that, and she hadn’t mentioned it. He noticed the stunned expressions on the faces of Ron, Fred, and George, as well. "And?" he asked.

"She said she wanted to forgive me, but she couldn’t until I’d apologized to you. She said you’d been through enough and didn’t deserve disbelief from someone who was supposed to be family. Families stick together, is what she said," Percy replied.

"She’s right," all three of the other Weasley brothers said in unison.

"Well, if that’s the case, I reckon it’s up to me," Harry said, stretching his open hand towards Percy.

"Harry! I can’t believe you’re just going to forgive this git," Ron said hotly.

"Ginny and your mum have been through enough. You’re Weasleys, and Weasleys stick together. I was always so envious of that, and I won’t be the reason you don’t all pull back together," Harry said earnestly.

"Come on, Harry. You’re as much a Weasley as the rest of by now – and you will be officially when you get around to marrying that sister of ours," George said, causing Harry’s face to blaze a bright pink.

"Merlin help you," added Fred.

"If we have to accept this pillock back into our lives because of you, you deserve to suffer right along with us," George said as he grabbed onto Harry and Percy, while Fred grabbed Ron and pulled them all into an overly-exaggerated group hug.

"Well, wasn’t that just special," Fred said perkily. "Of course, you’re going to have to go through it all again with Bill. Mum will be happy, though."

"And don’t think you’re completely off the hook," Ron said gruffly, still not willing to let go completely. "You’re forgiven, but we won’t forget, and we’ll be watching you real close for a while."

"And now, little brother, don’t you have a Quidditch match you’re supposed to be playing in today?" asked Fred.

Ron’s face paled. "Shite, Harry! We were supposed to be on the pitch ten minutes ago. Come on!"

As he ran out the door after Ron, he heard Fred say, "Sorry you’re under house arrest, Percy. It should be a great match. Beautiful weather outside, too, but…you do have to serve some punishment for your crimes. Pity that."

Harry and Ron raced to the Quidditch pitch and into the locker rooms, skidding to a stop on the slippery floor in front of an enraged Ginny Weasley.

"Where in the name of all that is magic have you two been?" she demanded, sounding eerily like her mother. "The rest of the team has been here for ages. You’ve no time to make a speech, Ron. We’re barely going to get on the pitch in time. I don’t know where your priorities are this morning. What could be more important than this match?"

"Sorry, Ginny," Harry said, while Ron merely pushed her out of the way and rushed into the boys’ changing room.

"Where were you?" Ginny asked again.

"We went to see Percy," Harry said, causing Ginny’s eyes to widen. "You didn’t tell me you’d been there, as well."

Ginny shrugged. "What did he say?"

"We sort of called a truce. I mean…he’s your brother, right?"

Ginny flung herself into his arms, causing him to stumble backwards. He caught himself and wrapped his arms around her while she kissed him soundly.

"I love you, Harry Potter."

"I love you, too, Ginny Weasley. Let’s go win us a Quidditch match in Professor Dumbledore’s memory."

"You got it," Ginny said, grinning.

They made it outside just in time to join the team line-up as they soared out onto the pitch as their names were called. Ravenclaw’s young new Seeker looked positively terrified to be flying against Harry. Harry flashed his teeth in a lopsided grin, causing her to blush and dart away toward the other end of the pitch.

"I saw that, Potter. No tormenting the competition with that killer charm," Ginny said, giggling as she flew past him.

"I have that effect on women," Harry bluffed confidently before having to duck his head low to dodge a Bludger that nearly beheaded him.

"Get a grip, Harry. She’s a third-year," Ginny shouted, her hair streaming behind her in the wind.

The same Bludger had curved and was aiming towards him again before Jack Sloper rammed it with his bat and sent it the other way.

"Thanks, Jack."

"No problem, Harry."

Harry enjoyed the match; it was a warm day, and the sun even poked through the clouds on occasion. The Chasers were keeping Gryffindor in the lead, and Harry was aware of Ravenclaw’s Seeker keeping a close eye on him rather than searching for the Snitch herself. A fatal error, as far as Harry was concerned.

He kept his gaze sharp and attuned to the field around him while still enjoying the bits of the match he could catch. He inhaled deeply, enjoying this taste of spring. Ron appeared to be having a really good match and wasn’t letting many goals through. Watching his friend closely, Harry could see the relaxed set to his shoulders and the easy way Ron swerved from hoop to hoop. Setting things to rights with Percy had done Ron some good, as well, even if the stubborn prat wouldn’t admit it.

While Harry was watching, Ron made a spectacular save, and Harry could hear the whoops and catcalls from the twins even from the height at which he was presently soaring. Harry grinned. For the first time in a long time, things seemed right; he always enjoyed when the twins came to call.

He watched as one of the Ravenclaw Chasers hurled the Quaffle towards one of his teammates. Like a shot, Ginny tore between the two of them, grabbed the Quaffle, and sped off in the opposite direction.

Harry whooped for her brilliant steal; the Ravenclaw players never even saw her coming. Ginny threw the Quaffle to Holly, who easily scored again. Gryffindor had a comfortable lead. Now, if only Harry could find the Snitch. A small glitter of gold directly above the head of one of the Ravenclaw Chasers caught his attention. He narrowed his gaze and began to fly towards the Chaser almost lazily.

He didn’t want to alert the other Seeker, since she was much closer. The Chaser – a sixth year named Todd-something – was busy keeping an eye on the Gryffindor Chasers and hadn’t noticed the Snitch above him. The murmur of the crowd soon alerted him; they’d spotted the Snitch moments after Harry.

Ravenclaw’s Seeker turned in the direction the crowd was pointing, and the race was on. Harry flattened himself against his Firebolt, hoping for just that little bit of extra speed that he needed. He could see the potential glory of beating Harry playing on the other Seeker’s face, and he was determined it wasn’t going to happen.

Todd the Chaser looked up and then tried to maneuver his broom to block Harry’s approach and make it easier for his own Seeker to catch the Snitch. As if aware it had been seen, the Snitch suddenly plummeted towards the ground.

Harry pushed his Firebolt into a steep nosedive and followed its descent, Ravenclaw’s Seeker rapidly giving chase.

As the Snitch neared the ground, it leveled out and just barely skimmed the surface of the grass. Harry kept his dive almost to the point of impact before pulling up sharply, the Snitch in hand. The Firebolt struggled, and for a moment Harry wasn’t certain he’d be able to pull out of the dive. Ravenclaw’s Seeker had already pulled back and was watching Harry with a look of mixed awe and horror.

Harry finally managed to pull the Firebolt up; he’d lost his pads and both of his knees were skinned, but he had the Snitch. Gryffindor had won. As he was rising back upwards, a Bludger shot directly into his path and nicked the edge of his Firebolt, causing it to spin in a circle. Harry still hadn’t caught his balance from the dive, and he crashed back down with a thump. Fortunately for him, he hadn’t been too high, so the fall didn’t result in any broken bones, just some additional scrapes and a bruised ego. Through it all, he managed to keep the Snitch in his hand.

"Amazingly after that dive and fall, Harry Potter still has the Snitch," Luke Donovan’s voice droned over the pitch. "Gryffindor wins again."

Harry sat up, shaking his head, and immediately reached for his Firebolt. He ran his hand up and down the length of it to ensure there was no damage, as the rest of his team flocked towards him.

"Harry, are you all right?" Ginny asked with concern. She began running her hands along him in much the same way he was doing to the Firebolt.

"Sorry about that last Bludger, mate. I tried to catch it, but I just wasn’t quick enough," Andrew said apologetically.

"Don’t worry about it," Harry said, waving his hand. "No damage done."

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said, finally joining the rest of the group. He’d had a longer flight, all the way from the Gryffindor hoops. "I thought you’d finally broken your streak."

"Nah, just a few cuts. I don’t even need to see Madam Pomfrey. I’m still on a roll," Harry replied, grinning. He hadn’t had to make a single visit to the hospital wing this year, and he was determined to make it through to the end.

"Are you positive?" Ginny asked, her eyes sparkling brightly. "Maybe she should just look you over. That looked like some fall."

"He said he was fine, Ginny. He wants to go one year in his Hogwarts career without sleeping in the hospital wing. It’s nearly April now; if Quidditch hasn’t put him there yet, it’ll take something pretty big to get him to go," Ron said.

"I’m okay, Ginny," Harry said reassuringly, scowling at Ron. He rose to his feet and bent his knees several times. "See, no damage. Hey, we won!"

"Yeah, and I saw Ron’s brothers in the stands. There’s bound to be a good after-party," Jack said, grinning. "And I’m old enough to stay for it this year."

Harry grinned. Fred and George did always make the parties more exciting. "Excellent. Let’s get cleaned up and head inside, then."

After an extra-long, refreshing shower, Harry changed back into his jeans and a T-shirt and left the changing room. He found Ginny waiting for him just outside the door.

"I told Ron that I’d wait for you; he went up with the twins to get things started and make certain Hermione didn’t interfere too much. How are you feeling?" Ginny asked, her eyes scanning him for any hidden damage.

"I’m fine, Ginny. Don’t worry about me. It was nothing more than a little fall. I’ve had worse playing with you and your brothers."

"I know. It scared me, that’s all. I felt powerless, being so far away and unable to help," she said, sighing.

Harry took her in his arms and gave her a gentle hug. "You’ve been working too hard. We need a night off. This celebration will do us all some good. I feel ready for a party."

She linked her arm with his. "Then I claim you for my date."

"Any fringe benefits go along with being your date?" he asked, quirking one eyebrow.

"What kind of fringe benefits would you like?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

"I’ll think of something," Harry said, grinning wolfishly.

"I’m certain you will."

They continued their playful banter all the way up the castle steps and up to Gryffindor tower. Lunch was just being served in the Great Hall, so the noise level was high as they passed the doors. When they reached the tower, Harry gave the password, and they entered to find the common room deserted. Despite the emptiness, the room was obviously being prepared for a party. Dean had designed a banner that read, ‘Gryffindor for the Cup…Again’, and it hung above the stairs to the dormitories.

After Harry and Ginny stowed their brooms in their dorms, they returned to the common room and sat on the couch near the fire. They watched the banner with amusement as the little figures zoomed around on brooms and knocked Bludgers at all the other Houses. Harry stretched his legs out in front of him and inhaled deeply, enjoying the calm and utter peace of the day. It had been a long time since he’d felt this way.

"What are you thinking?" Ginny asked, breathing huskily in his ear.

Harry grinned. "You’re going to drive all the thoughts from my head if you keep doing that," he said, turning his head to catch her lips in a gentle kiss. "I was thinking about Percy."

"Percy?"

"Yeah. He said you wouldn’t forgive him until he apologized to me."

"He owed you an apology, Harry," Ginny said, scowling.

"He owes his whole family an apology at the very least, but I really think he knows that."

"Me, too," Ginny said softly. "I can’t speak for the others, and I think it’ll be a long time before he ever really gains everyone’s trust again. But…I think he’s finally on the road there."

"What’s going to happen with Pricilla? Did he say?" Harry asked.

Ginny frowned and caught her lip with her teeth. "I don’t know. Isn’t that awful? I never even thought to ask."

Harry stared, distracted by the way she kept running her teeth along her bottom lip.

"Harry!" Ginny said, poking him in the stomach. "I think I’ll have to go back and talk with him again, especially since he did as I asked. I can ask him then. Should we go get some lunch? I don’t know what Fred and George are planning, but I can’t imagine they’re not going to stay for the party tonight. Still, seems like they’ll be missing a lot of business on a Saturday."

"Yeah, but I’m certain they’ve thought of that. They don’t usually miss an opportunity," Harry said, holding the portrait hole open for her to climb through.

"You’re right about that," she said, giggling.

They entered the Great Hall and made their way over to Ron and Hermione, who were just finishing their lunch.

"What took you so long?" Ron asked around a mouth full of steak and kidney pie.

"Ron, don’t talk with your mouth full," Hermione scolded.

"Where are Fred and George?" Ginny asked, serving herself some of the pie.

"Dunno. They sat down with us, inhaled some lunch, then said they had something they had to do and hared out of here before we could ask what they were planning," Ron said.

"I really do hope they’re not causing trouble," Hermione said, glancing around nervously. "They can be so incorrigible."

"Yes, Mum," Ginny snickered.

Ron choked on his pumpkin juice while Hermione glared at both of them. They were all distracted when Professor McGonagall stood to make an announcement.

"As you are all aware, we feel that due to present circumstances it would be inadvisable to allow you to visit Hogsmeade. Before you all begin bemoaning how unfair it is, what we have managed to do is bring a bit of Hogsmeade to you. Several of the vendors have set up small concession stands out on the Quidditch pitch for your perusal. The Three Broomsticks will be offering chips and butterbeer, and Weasley Wizarding Wheezes will be giving a demonstration of some of their products. You may all head outside when you’ve finished your lunch."

The volume in the Great Hall rose to a fevered pitch, with the vast majority of students pushing away their plates and rushing for the door. Excited first and second years, who had never had the opportunity to visit Hogsmeade, anyway, led the charge toward the doors.

"Ah," Ginny said. "Now we know what Fred and George were planning. Still, this could be fun."

"I think it’s fantastic," Hermione said enthusiastically. "It’ll do wonders for morale."

"Hurry up and eat, you two," Ron said to Harry and Ginny. "We’re going to miss all the good stuff, and I want a butterbeer."

"Leave it to you, Ron, to tell us to hurry up and eat so we don’t miss out on getting food," Harry said, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Just shut it and eat, Harry," Ron said impatiently.

A short time later, Harry followed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny back out to the Quidditch pitch, which was bustling with activity and a carnival-like atmosphere. Fred and George had the largest area, and were demonstrating some of their products to the huge crowd that surrounded them. Fireworks lit the sky, and the twins both seemed in their element amidst the chaos.

Butterbeer flowed freely, and several of the other shops in Hogsmeade had set up tables and were selling their wares. Hermione was immediately distracted by a stand selling parchment and quills, while Ron tried to steer them towards Honeydukes’ grand display.

Harry didn’t really care which stand they visited and simply followed along, taking in the sights and sounds. He was distracted when he saw Abe walking alone and looking at some beads at a jewelry stand.

"I’ll be right back," he said to his friends.

Ginny looked up and saw Abe. She nodded her understanding. "Take your time. We’ll just be looking around. Find me when you’re through," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. Abe and Harry had continued their training, but their sessions had been lackluster and subdued.

"I will," he said, brushing his lips across her forehead. "I won’t be long."

He left them to walk over to where Abe wandering. He appeared to be looking at everything, but seeing nothing.

"Hullo, Abe," he said, walking up beside the older wizard.

"Harry, lad, how are you?" Abe asked.

"Fine," Harry said. "Are you looking for anything special?"

"Nah. I’ve already got everything I need, just poking around, really. Minerva asked if I could help keep an eye on things. If you pay attention, you’ll see a lot of the Order is here, keeping a watch on things."

"Yeah, I did notice a few familiar faces."

"Good. I’m glad to see you’re paying attention. How are you doing, lad?"

"Fine. How about you?" Harry asked. He knew what they were each trying to ask without coming right out and asking. It somehow seemed easier to dance around the subject.

Abe squinted and gave Harry an appraising look. "He was quite proud of you, you know."

Harry picked up a little silver instrument that reminded him of the things Dumbledore had kept in his office. He played with it so he didn’t have to look in Abe’s eyes. "Yeah. We had a chance to talk about some things not all that long ago," he said very quietly.

"You did? He didn’t tell me that. I’m glad. What’s happened to you had always weighed heavily on his conscience. He always did what he had to do, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it."

"I know. I’m sorry, Abe," Harry whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Harry. Al played his role in this war, just like you – just like all of us, really. We all have to do what we have to do, and feeling guilty over any of it is just a waste of time. Keep the blame focused on where it belongs."

"What are you going to do now? Are you going to stay here at the castle?" Harry asked curiously. He hoped Abe would stay; he didn’t want to lose him, too.

"Of course, I am. I won’t abandon you before this is over, laddie. That’s a promise. Besides, I think Cordelia has become very fond of that teaching job of hers. I don’t think she’ll want to give it up, even after the term is over," Abe said, ruffling Harry’s hair fondly.

Harry grinned. "She’s good; the student’s are lucky if she stays."

"Well, it keeps her close to the Hog’s Head, so it works out well for both of us."

Abe and Harry spent some time poking around the shops and simply enjoying each other’s company. Harry had never had an adult to do something like that with before, and he found he enjoyed it immensely. When Cordelia came out to join them, Harry said it was time he got back to his friends. He bade them farewell and went in search of some familiar faces. He spotted Ron and Hermione walking hand in hand towards the Three Broomsticks stand, and he hurried to join them.

"Hi, Harry. We’re going to get a butterbeer. Care to join us?" Hermione asked.

Harry joined in step beside them. "Okay. Where’s Ginny?"

"What do you mean ‘where’s Ginny’? I thought she was with you," Ron said, turning to frown at Harry.

Harry stopped walking and turned to face Ron. "I left you all near Honeydukes when I went to talk with Abe, remember?"

"You’ve been with Abe all this time?" Hermione asked. "Is everything okay?"

"How long since you’ve seen her?" Harry demanded, feeling the first prickle of fear run down his spine. Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed all that concerned, and Harry supposed he was probably overreacting. It was a crowded market here, really, and Ginny did like to shop. There really wasn’t any reason to become alarmed. Really.

"I dunno, half hour, maybe," Ron said, shrugging.

"I’m certain she’s fine, Harry," Hermione said, picking up on his anxiety. "There’s lots to see and do here. Why don’t we just take a walk around the stands; I’m certain we’ll spot her."

Harry, Ron and Hermione began strolling up and down the rows of vendors, trying to elbow their way through the crowd. The longer they went without finding that flash of red hair, the more Harry’s tension increased. He spotted Neville coming around the corner and ran up to meet him.

"Neville, have you seen Ginny?" he asked, short of breath. He hadn’t really run very far, but the panicky feeling was beginning to take hold.

Neville turned towards him and shrugged his shoulders. "No, not since we got here. Why?"

Harry didn’t answer; instead, he turned and sprinted up the row, asking Parvati, Seamus, and Colin Creevey in turn if they’d seen her. None of them had.

Harry’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, and he was beginning to have trouble breathing. He had an unrelenting fear that something was very wrong. He raced up and down the rows of vendors, first searching any that he thought Ginny might find remotely interesting, then turning to all the shops out of sheer desperation. He had to find her.

Percy! She had said she wanted to talk to Percy. Maybe she’d grown tired of waiting for him and gone back to the castle to have a chat with her other brother. She hadn’t told him that she was going to visit the last time she saw Percy. Harry sprinted for the castle, Ron close on his heels. He vaguely saw Hermione turn around and begin retracing their steps along the Quidditch pitch, but panic was overwhelming him now. He felt nausea rising in his stomach, and he forced it down. He’d find her, and she’d be fine. It was all a silly overreaction. It had to be.

He raced back to the professors’ quarters and pounded his fist on Percy’s door. Percy opened it slowly, a bemused expression on his face at finding Harry back so soon. "Harry-"

"Percy, have you seen Ginny?" Harry asked, panting.

Percy shook his head. "Not today, except through the window. I saw her enter the castle with that funny girl with the blonde hair and vacant expression. Why? What’s wrong?"

Luna! She was with Luna. Harry hadn’t realized that they hadn’t seen Luna outside, either. He tried to gulp down the panic, but for some reason, it refused to subside.

"Nothing’s wrong. I just need to find her," Harry said, already racing back down the corridor and through the portrait hole.

"If she visits, tell her Harry’s looking for her," Ron shouted, quickly taking off after Harry.

Harry ran through castle, resisting the urge to scream her name. He ignored Ron’s attempts to gain his attention and kept running. As much as he didn’t want to talk with Ron just then, he was immensely glad to have him with him. He had to find Ginny. He had to see for himself that she was all right. She must have gone back to the common room; she had to be there.

As he reached the grand staircase and started to head towards the third floor, he stopped suddenly. An unwanted thought was taking root in his mind and causing a dread to rise within him so fast that it was like a tidal wave. He turned on his heel and headed back in the direction from which he’d just come, running along at breakneck speed.

"Harry!" Ron shouted. "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

He ran down several corridors until at last he reached a nearly deserted one – one where he’d first discovered a message written on the wall, years before. He ran down that final corridor at top speed, although it felt like slow motion.

There – on the wall between two windows – the writing still so fresh it was dripping, were the words Harry had dreaded he would find:

‘And now, her skeleton will finally lie in the Chamber forever…as it was meant to be.’

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Back in the Chamber

Harry stared in numbed horror at the words written on the castle wall. His heart hammered in his chest as he fought with his brain to focus. This couldn’t be happening. Not Ginny. How could this be happening? What did Voldemort do to convince her to come this way? How had he enticed her? What trickery had he used? As Harry stared at the sickening words, nausea roiled in his stomach.

He was aware of Ron skidding to a halt beside him, and heard his sharp intake of breath as he read the ominous message. "Harry," he whispered, horrorstruck.

Harry suddenly became enraged; his nostrils flared, and his lip curled back into a sneer. How dare Voldemort lay a finger on his Ginny? Going back into that Chamber had to be her worst nightmare, and he was forcing her to relive it. Harry was going to make certain he paid for it. He was going to get Ginny out of there, now, and end this thing once and for all. He felt that now familiar surge of power that always happened when his emotions were stirred. His fingers tingled with pins and needles, and he struggled to contain the raw energy. The candles flickered around him as he felt the temperature plunge.

Setting his jaw, he turned towards Ron. "I’m going after her," he said tersely.

"We’re going after her," Ron said firmly. "We need to go back to the dorm to get our brooms and tell Hermione. We also have to tell McGonagall what we’re doing so she can send some back up."

Harry nodded, immensely glad that Ron was there. Ron was right; they needed to ensure that they had a way out of the Chamber and that some members of the Order were informed of what they were doing. He couldn’t rush into anything haphazardly. Not again. This wasn’t fifth year, and he wasn’t going to repeat the same mistakes. He had to do things differently this time.

He strode down the corridor angrily; his emotions were swirling around inside him and so jumbled up that he wasn’t certain how to feel. Fear, anger, resolution, determination, panic, desperation – they were all stirred and mixed together inside of him. One feeling gave way to another so rapidly that he thought he could easily lose his mind. If Ron hadn’t been there to keep him focused, Harry was certain that he’d go mad. As he began climbing the stairs towards Gryffindor tower, his scar burst with excruciating pain, bringing him to his knees. One emotion clearly rose above all others – jubilation.

Ron knelt beside Harry and placed a hand on his back. "Harry, are you all right?" he asked, his voice tinged with panic.

"He’s hurting her," Harry gasped. The pain was so intense that he saw spots, but he fought from blacking out. He had to get to Ginny; he had to help her. He tried repeatedly to get to his feet, but the pain and waves of emotion kept getting in the way and causing him to fall. He struggled desperately as his own panic began to override Voldemort’s euphoria, but Ron held him down with a firm hand.

"Pull it together, Harry," Ron demanded harshly. "You have to be strong for her; don’t panic, now. There will be plenty of time to panic later, and I’ll be first in the queue. Take a deep breath and pull yourself together."

Harry took several deep breaths and tried to calm his racing heart. Ron was right; now was not the time to panic. Harry had never been prone to panic – but this was Ginny! Once Harry had regained his composure, Ron pulled him to his feet, and they resumed their climb to the tower. The pain in Harry’s head had receded to a dull ache behind his temples. They moved in silence the rest of the way, each lost in his own thoughts.

Harry’s mind raced. He had to get into that Chamber before Voldemort took Ginny from him, too. The terrible dream that had been plaguing him for months about Ginny turning into Voldemort while in the Chamber kept replaying in his mind, fueling his panic. He wouldn’t let that happen. Ginny had to be all right. Even if he never made it out of that Chamber alive again, he was going to be certain of two things. One – that he’d take Voldemort with him, and two – that Ginny would get out alive. He cringed slightly, thinking about how she would feel going on without him. He knew how it felt to be the one left behind, and he knew how much it hurt. Still, he needed Ginny to survive. She represented his hope, and he was determined, even if he did nothing else, to see her through this. He couldn’t stand the thought of Voldemort hurting her again.

As they reached the portrait hole, Ron must have noticed some of the emotions playing on Harry’s face, for he took a deep breath and put a steadying hand on Harry’s shoulder, as if determined – for once – to be the one with the cooler head.

"Harry, listen to me. This will be your one and only chance to defeat him; you can’t rush into this one, mate," Ron said, with a sad smile. His eyes pleaded with Harry, and something about the raw desperation in his expression tore at Harry’s ragged emotions. Ron was terrified of not only losing his sister, but losing Harry, as well.

"It’s all strategy now; you have to get your pieces in place. Don’t you think this all seems vaguely familiar? He did this on purpose, Harry. He sent you that dream repeatedly because he knows your fears and how you’ll react. At least he thinks he knows. We have to change that and work this to our advantage. He wants you to rush in unprepared so he can catch you with your emotions running high. You have to calm down and think this through with your head – not your heart. He’s expecting you to act on your heart – he knows you too well, Harry. You need to use your head now; using your heart will come later – in the actual battle. That’s what you’re good at doing. I’m good with strategizing, so listen to me and let me do my part now."

Harry stared at Ron’s earnest face and was struck with a series of memories of the times he had shared with his friend since that first train ride, so many years ago. Ron was right – strategy was his strong point, and Harry would be wise to let him do it.

He’d never been one for a lot of words, particularly with Ron. They’d always sort of just bumbled their way through, but still been there for one another. This was different, however. This could be the last chance he ever had to say what he meant or regret it forever.

Steeling himself, Harry said, "This is really it, Ron. Once we’re down there – I’m going to be otherwise engaged, so it’s up to you to get Ginny out. You have to get her out and away, no matter what else happens."

"I will, mate. I promise," Ron said, his voice raspy. He swallowed several times in a row.

"Meeting you on the train in first year was still the best thing that ever happened to me, Ron. I never would have survived all this time without you. You took me in and shared your family, and I never could have asked for a better friend. I needed you more than you’ll ever know," Harry said quietly, without meeting Ron’s eyes, and both of them knew he was saying goodbye.

"Don’t die, Harry. You’ll break my sister’s heart and hack us all off. We need you to be there after this is all over. I don’t want to hear you talking as if you won’t be there. Ginny would hunt you down and bring you back just so she could kill you herself, and I’d help her – so would Hermione and the twins. We need you, Harry. You’re the glue that holds us all together."

Harry’s eyes glazed, and an irritating lump the size of a Snitch formed in his throat. Try as he might, the lump just wouldn’t go away; he was truly touched by Ron’s words. "I’m going to do my best, Ron. I have some things that I want to come back for, things of my own for the first time in my life. But no matter what else happens – I’m going to take him out, today, even if I have to die to do it."

Ron shook his head, beginning to protest, but Harry raised his hand to stop his words.

"There is something you can do for me – if I don’t win – and I don’t come back out of there today. Just remember me, Ron. Remember Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived. That was never me. You were my first friend…Harry’s friend. You know me better than all the stuff they’ll print. I want to know there is someone left who knew who I really was more than the stupid legacy.

"You tell them that I was messy and didn’t like to do homework, that I got in more trouble than I should, and that I didn’t follow many rules. Tell them that I had a temper and often acted before I thought. Don’t let them gloss all that over, and I’ll be watching to make certain you do." The lump in Harry’s throat had grown so that it was now the size of a Bludger.

"I promise, Harry. If anything goes wrong today – it won’t – but if it does, I’ll be damned certain that everyone knows how much of a prat you really are," Ron said gruffly.

"Thanks, mate," Harry replied. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I’m ever going to be. Let’s go get Ginny, defeat a Dark Lord, and still make it back in time for a stunning feast in our honor. What do you say?" Ron asked, and Harry suspected he was half-serious.

"Let’s do it."

As they climbed through the portrait hole, Hermione startled them when she came running up behind them in a state of near panic.

"Ron! Harry!" she gasped, nearly out of breath. "Oh, thank Merlin you’re all right. Something dreadful has happened."

"We already know, Hermione," Ron said grimly. "We’re going after her."

Hermione stared at them blankly. She shook her head as if trying to clear it. "After who? Did you see it? Professor McGonagall has taken all the teachers to guard the gates. We’re supposed to see to it that all the students get back inside. She said to keep everyone in the Great Hall."

"The Great Hall won’t help us; it’s Myrtle’s bathroom where we need to be," Ron said, exasperated.

"Hold on," Harry bellowed, distracting both of them before they descended into another endless row. "I think we’re talking about different things. What happened, Hermione? Why has Professor McGonagall gone to the gates?"

"The Dark Mark!" Hermione shrieked. "The Dark Mark appeared over Hogsmeade. The village is being attacked. Professor McGonagall has already called the Order members and is leading all the teachers to defend the gates. The prefects are leading all the students back inside, but I had to find you. I was afraid it was a trap for you, Harry."

"It is," Harry said grimly.

"What is?" Hermione screeched, clearly panicking. Tears had sprung to her eyes, and she was wringing her hands in nervousness.

"It’s a distraction," Harry said. "The Death Eaters are probably attacking Hogsmeade to keep everyone busy and away from the school. Voldemort is here; he’s got Ginny."

"What?" Hermione asked faintly, leaning back against Ron’s chest.

"He’s got Ginny, Hermione. He took her back into the Chamber of Secrets. We’re going after her; it’s time," Harry said, raising his chin defiantly. His scar seared painfully once again, but he fought to keep his face neutral, as to not panic Hermione further.

Hermione continued to wring her hands, but Harry saw a steely determination enter her eyes. "I’m coming with you, then," she said decisively.

"Hermione-"

"Don’t even waste your breath arguing with me, Harry. I was the one who discovered those protection spells, and I’m the one who can make them work. You need me there. Ron and I are going to watch your back," she said, leaving no room for argument.

"I’m going to send Pig to McGonagall to let her know what’s happening," Ron said. "Get the brooms, Harry, and I’ll meet you right back here." He climbed out the portrait hole and sprinted down the corridor.

"I’m going to go tell Susan Bones to take over in the Great Hall and to be certain that everyone stays inside," Hermione said, rushing out after Ron.

Harry hurried up the stairs to his dorm, grabbed both his and Ron’s brooms, the Marauder’s map, and – just in case – the Invisibility Cloak. An eerie calm had settled over him. This was it; one way or another, it was going to end today. Hang on, Ginny. I’m coming. He could still feel the raw power coursing through his veins, but by not giving in to his panic and rushing right after Ginny, it had had time to settle and grow without bursting from him in an uncontrolled rage, like had always happened previously. He was acting – not reacting – and he thought that might be what made the difference.

As he hurried down the stairs from the seventh-year boys’ dormitory and into the common room, he saw Hermione climbing back through the portrait hole. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw him, and she ran across the room to fling herself into his arms.

"Oh, Harry. This is dreadful. I can’t believe this is happening now, when Professor McGonagall isn’t even here. You will be careful, won’t you? You can do this, Harry; I know you can. You’re still a very powerful wizard – even more powerful than you were all those years ago, and you can do this," she said, sniffling. Harry hated to see her feeling so much stress.

"I know it’s up to you to save all our lives – to save everyone – and I know the burden that it has been for you for so long. But, you have to come out of it all right for us – Ron, Ginny and I can’t live without you."

Harry patted her back and rested his chin on her head. He didn’t want to upset her anymore than she already was, but this was his chance to say goodbye – just in case – and he had to take it. Having the chance to tell Professor Dumbledore what he meant to him before he lost him had helped so much. He wanted to give that closure to Ron and Hermione – just in case. He didn’t want it to be as sudden and as devastatingly painful as it had been with Sirius.

"Hermione," he said gently, keeping his chin on her head so he didn’t have to look into her eyes while he spoke. "You and Ron were the ones who saved my life first – way back in first year. I never would have survived until now without both of you.

"You two pulled me through it all – kicking and screaming, sometimes – but still whole. I’d be lost without you. Somehow, in some way that I never even realized it was happening, you two took on the roles of my family."

"How do you mean?" asked Hermione, still sniffling although Harry could tell that she was listening intently. Her eagerness made Harry feel guilty. She’d spent years trying to get him to open up, but it was something he just hadn’t been able to do until Ginny had shown him how.

"Well, Ron was kind of like a sibling. Someone to have fun and cause mischief with – even some sibling rivalry to go along with it," he said, shrugging and trying to hold back a blush. "You, on the other hand, took on a parental role, actually." He smirked when he felt her body tense. She pulled back from him and glared with narrowed eyes.

"Don’t look at me like that," he said, smiling. "It’s true. You always made me do my homework, and you cared about my marks and any successes that I had. You also sympathized with my failures – I’d never had anyone to do that for me before I arrived here. I don’t know if you’ll ever realize how important it was to me. How important you are to me."

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, losing her disgruntled stance and letting her eyes fill with tears again.

"I think most people’s conscience has a voice, and the voice usually belongs to their mother, or the person who taught them right from wrong. The voice of my conscience is your voice, Hermione. I never told you how much you meant to me, how much both you and Ron mean to me. You saved me and gave me that taste of family that I was so desperate to have, and I will be eternally grateful to you for that," Harry said, his voice cracking at the end. That Bludger-sized lump had returned, and he now expected it was reaching Quaffle-size proportions. He was extremely proud of himself for getting all that out. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to do it again if someone asked, but he’d done it when it mattered most. That was enough.

Hermione had tears streaming down her face, and her lower lip was trembling. "You’re going to come through this just fine, Harry. You have to; we’ve still got NEWTs to take!" she said, stamping her foot.

Harry threw back his head and laughed, something he wouldn’t have thought possible given their situation. Only Hermione would be worried about NEWTs as they headed off to battle bloody Voldemort. He wouldn’t trade her for the world.

"What’s going on?" Neville asked, climbing through the portrait hole and walking towards them. "I was in the Great Hall with everyone else, but when I couldn’t find any of you, I knew something was happening."

"It’s time, Neville. We’re going after him; he’s got Ginny. In fact, I think he might have Luna, too," Harry said.

Neville’s eyes went wide. "What?" he asked, a tremor in his voice.

"Luna?" Hermione said. "You didn’t say anything about Luna."

Harry shrugged. "I’m certain that the message on the wall pertained to Ginny, but Percy said he saw Ginny enter the castle with Luna. Did either of you see her in the Great Hall?"

"I didn’t," Neville said faintly.

"Me, either, although I wasn’t actually looking for her specifically, so I could have missed her. It doesn’t matter; we’ll get both of them out," Hermione said, nodding resolutely.

"I’m going with you," Neville said quietly.

Harry shook his head, beginning to protest – there was no way he could keep his eyes on so many people, rescue Ginny, and still take on Voldemort.

"Yes, I am, Harry," Neville said, halting Harry’s protests. "I’ve been with you on this for a long time, and I intend to finish the job. You need us to watch your back, and that’s what I’m going to do."

Harry stared at Neville for a moment, struck by how far the shy, timid boy he’d first met had come. "Thanks, Neville," Harry said, and he meant it.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville climbed out the portrait hole and met Ron, Fred, George, and Percy climbing up the stairs. Harry stared at the Weasley brothers in surprise.

"What are you lot doing here?" he asked.

"I ran into them coming back from the owlry. They want to help, and I figured that we could use the back-up," Ron said, shrugging apologetically.

Harry shook his head adamantly. "No. There are too many of us; he’ll just start killing you all at random. I can’t keep track of this many people while dueling him."

"It’s not up to you to keep track of any of us, Harry," George said firmly. "It’s our sister down there, and we’re going to get her."

"Besides, you need us to watch your back," Fred said.

"We let her down the last time," Percy said quietly. "This time is going to be different."

Harry sighed in exasperation; he didn’t have time for this. The truth was that he could use the help, and he couldn’t blame them for wanting to save Ginny. "Come on, then. The entrance to the Chamber is on the second floor. Did you get the note to Professor McGonagall?"

"Yeah. I sent one to Bill, too," Ron replied.

Hearing Bill’s name reminded Harry of Jacqueline. "It’s not a full moon," Harry muttered, thinking out loud.

"What that got to do with anything?" Fred asked.

Harry shook his head. "Ginny told me that Jacqueline had been talking in her sleep about lunar cycles. Somehow, I was expecting Voldemort to make his move on the next full moon. Now, I don’t know what it means."

"Well, it’s not exactly lunar cycles," said George. "She just keeps repeating lunar over and over and over again. We’re only assuming it pertains to the lunar cycles."

"Lunar….lunar. I wonder?" Hermione mumbled.

"I can see your brain working, Hermione," said Ron. "What are you seeing that the rest of us aren’t?"

"Oh, it’s nothing, I suppose. Just…you said that Ginny was last seen with Luna, and now they’re both missing. Luna sounds a lot like lunar," Hermione said tentatively.

"You think she was trying to tell us something about Loony Lovegood?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Well, I mean…Voldemort has been getting his information from somewhere…and it’s all been very accurate," Hermione said.

"…and Luna has been in on everything that was leaked," Ron continued.

"But Luna would never betray you," Neville said firmly.

Harry shook his head. He didn’t think so, either, but…then again…his parents hadn’t believed it of Peter Pettigrew, either.

"She did say her dad was in some financial trouble," Ron ventured uncertainly.

"This is getting us nowhere. We need to get to Ginny and keep our eyes open for Luna," Harry said with determination. As they turned onto the final corridor on the second floor, Harry nearly ran smack into Blaise Zabini. The Slytherin wasn’t wearing his familiar amused grin. In fact, he looked rather alarmed.

"Potter," he said, ignoring the others.

"What do you want, Zabini? I don’t have time to argue with you right now," Harry said, trying to move past his classmate. Zabini grabbed his arm and forced him to face him.

"Potter…there’s something happening. Something more than just what is going on in Hogsmeade, I mean."

Harry narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. My information is sketchy, but from what I’ve managed to pick up from certain parties in my house, something big is going down today…something that concerns you. It’s a trap," Zabini said quietly.

"Why are you telling us this?" Ron demanded.

"Look, I’ve told you before that I don’t want to be a Death Eater. If there is going to be a fight, I’d rather see you be the one to survive. If you repeat that, I’ll deny it; I’m still watching out for my own survival, but…I thought you’d want to know."

Harry nodded. "I’m going to at least take him out with me."

"Don’t say that, Harry," Hermione said, gripping his arm. "You’re going to take him out, and you’re going to be fine." Hermione’s voice was very shrill, and Harry wasn’t certain which one of them she was trying to convince.

"You know what we’re up against; we could use some help," Ron said, challenging the Slytherin.

"And you know I can’t do that. If Potter isn’t successful, I need to keep my supposed indifference, or all my family will suffer for it. Sorry, Potter, but that’s the best I can do. I will tell you that he thinks you’ll come alone, so I’m glad to see you have reinforcements. Good luck," he said quietly, extending his hand.

Harry looked at Blaise’s hand for a moment before shaking it. "Thanks. Good luck to you, as well. Go back to the Great Hall and keep the younger students calm. I’m certain you’ll hear about the outcome."

"Yeah," Blaise said, shrugging uncomfortably. "I hope you’ll let me know how it goes."

The others watched his retreating back for a moment before turning and continuing forward.

"Git," Ron muttered, but Harry didn’t think so. Blaise went against his house to do what he did, and it was at personal risk, no matter how he tried to deny it. Maybe he’d been too harsh in his criticism that all Slytherins were evil. They might see things differently, but that didn’t mean they wanted him to die. That thought gave Harry confidence, somehow.

When they reached the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, Harry strode in first and headed directly for the sink at the end of the row. The others followed him inside, single file.

"Oh, it’s you," Myrtle said from her stall. She was hovering above the tank and watching them all with morose curiosity.

"Hello, Myrtle," Harry said. "D’you think you could help me with something?"

Myrtle perked up immediately. "Me? You need me?" she asked, leaving her stall and floating in circles around Harry’s head with glee. "I always knew you’d realize it one day."

"A fan club that reaches into the Netherworld – now that’s power," Harry heard Fred mutter in awe.

Scowling at Fred, he asked Myrtle, "Has anyone else been in here recently?"

"Yes, not too long ago. It was a dreadful boy who banished me when I tried to ask him what he was doing in the girls’ bathroom. It’s not just any boy I allow to come in here, you know," she said coyly.

"This boy…was he alone?" Harry asked, holding his breath.

"No, there was a group of boys with him. There were some girls, too – including your little red-haired friend. He is a very powerful wizard, though. It’s not easy to banish me from my own haunting spot," Myrtle said with a pout.

"Ginny wouldn’t have been able to Apparate away from him since we’re inside Hogwarts," muttered Percy. He was staring into space and kept adjusting his glasses repeatedly.

Harry’s heart had clenched at the mention of Ginny. He turned back towards the sink and hissed in Parseltongue, "Open up."

The copper tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. There was a rumbling sound as the sink sank into the ground and a huge pipe appeared before them. Harry heard Hermione gasp in astonishment, while Fred and George muttered, "Wicked," simultaneously.

"The Ministry considers the use of Parseltongue highly suspect. It’s nearly considered a dark art," Percy muttered absently. He shut his mouth abruptly under the combined glares of Ron and the twins.

Hermione peered into the pipe, her expression a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. Neville looked somehow terrified but resolute at the same time.

"Okay," Harry said, sliding his legs into the dark pipe. He figured that he’d go first so at least if the trap was waiting right as they entered, he could stop the others getting hurt. "I’m going."

"We’re right behind you, mate," Ron said, and Harry was plagued with memories of doing this once before. He took a deep breath and slid his body into the pipe. He slid into the darkness through slime and muck at a furious pace. As the entrances to other pipes flew past his vision, he realized some of them had collapsed since the last time he’d been here. He slid through the mess for what seemed like an eternity – each second another moment that left Ginny in Voldemort’s clutches – until finally the pipe leveled out. He was thrown from the end and landed in a puddle of murky slime.

He grimaced and quickly shot to his feet, getting out of the way just in time, before Ron flew from the pipe and landed in the same wet puddle. "Eww," Ron groaned.

Hermione followed Ron, landing beside him with a thud. She scrambled to her feet, staring warily at the damp floor. "This is disgusting," she said, brushing futilely at her robes, which were covered with the grime.

As the others emerged from the pipe, Harry took a good look around the cavern. The rocks from the part of the tunnel that Lockhart had collapsed had vanished or been destroyed, for the tunnel was now clear. Harry could make out wet trails of footsteps leading into the tunnel. One tiny set among the larger tugged at his heart. She had been still able to walk at this point. As the smudges led away into the tunnel, they became blurred and unrecognizable, almost as if a spell had been cast to create confusion about the number of footprints.

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end, and he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. His eyes rapidly scanned the dark corners of the cavern. Giant spider webs hung in every crevice, but other than that, Harry could detect no signs of life.

"Lumos," he muttered, and the others lit their own wands, as well, as they silently began the trek inside the dark tunnel. They walked single file with Harry in the lead, trying not to brush against the slime dripping from the walls. Something about this just wasn’t right, but Harry was at a loss to put a finger on it.

Suddenly, a distant rumbling echoed from somewhere behind them that grew into a fierce roar as it approached. Cracks appeared in the ceiling as the tunnel shook around them. Harry saw Ron pull Hermione to his side and crouch against one side of the wall. Harry flung his arms over his head and took cover opposite them. Heavy chunks of rocks and debris appeared from nowhere, slowing their progress and pinning them inside the tunnel.

Harry realized that the collapsed tunnel hadn’t disappeared; it had merely been disillusioned to lull them into a false sense of security. Voldemort was trying to slow their progress. Harry was certain that they were somehow being monitored, and a thrill of foreboding rushed down his spine. Voldemort knew how many of them there were. How was Harry ever going to get them all out alive? He owed it to Mrs. Weasley to keep all her children safe…but how?

"Is everyone all right?" Harry asked loudly, once the walls had stopped shifting. He was answered with a groan.

"Fred!" George shouted, trying to push away a heavy boulder that had pinned Fred to the wall. Harry leaned his shoulder into the rock and attempted to push it off Fred, but it wouldn’t budge until both Ron and Neville joined in to shove.

Percy hauled Fred to his feet as the others let the heavy rock slide back into place. "Are you all right?"

Fred looked battered and winded, but for the most part he appeared unharmed. "I’m all right," he said, testing his weight on each leg and shaking out his arms. He winced when he put pressure on his left leg, but was still able to walk.

Harry nodded tersely. Voldemort still has Ginny. "Let’s go."

As the others followed along behind him, Harry kept running over the dream he’d been having in his mind. Always in that dream, Ginny had already been dead when he’d reached the Chamber. He couldn’t let that happen. The thought nearly paralyzed him, and he felt like he was dragging lead balls as he forced his legs to move forward.

As he rounded the final bend and saw the carving of the entwined serpents with emerald eyes, his knees began to shake. Taking a deep breath to steel his resolve, he approached the carving. He felt a hand gripping his shoulder and turned to find Ron staring at him with eyes full of sympathy and understanding. He didn’t say a word, but gripped Harry’s shoulder firmly and gave a squeeze of reassurance. Harry had forgotten that Ron had witnessed Harry’s nightmares, too, and must be remembering the same horrific details.

Feeling less alone, Harry turned back towards the carving and hissed, "Open." The serpents parted, and walls slid open wide enough for all of them to enter the Chamber of Secrets. Harry’s scar seemed to split along his forehead, as if a white-hot poker was being pressed to his skull. He gasped and raised his palm to his forehead, trying to force the pain back. He knew without a doubt that Voldemort was here. He tried to focus his thoughts on Ginny and only Ginny, since that seemed to make the pain more bearable.

Ron and George each grabbed one of his arms to hold him on his feet until he’d recovered sufficiently to continue. He shook them off when he could stand, and moved into the Chamber.

Torches lit the perimeter, casting long, ominous shadows along the walls of the Chamber. Harry’s heart thudded as he scanned the room for any sign of life. He could hear the shuffling of his companions’ feet as they followed behind him, all too awestruck to speak. It was the first time any of the rest of them had seen this place of legend.

As they passed the final pair of stone pillars and entered the center of the Chamber, Harry’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light. There, huddled beneath the stone statue against the back wall, stood a group of Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius and Narcissa Mallfoy, standing in a half circle around Luna. Luna’s eyes were wide and slightly bemused as she stared at Narcissa Malfoy with apparent confusion.

"Welcome, young Mr. Potter," Lucius drawled, malevolence dripping from his words. "I’m so pleased you decided to join us. The master said you would, and the master always knows."

Harry followed Lucius’s gaze to the opposite wall, where Voldemort stood, resting his hand with his long, spidery fingers on Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny’s eyes were filled with a strangely vacant expression. She neither moved nor registered Harry’s presence in the room, but remained standing still at Voldemort’s side.

Voldemort took a step forward, his cold, red, snakelike eyes flickering over the new arrivals dispassionately. Harry heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath and felt Neville shuddering behind him. Aside from Ron, none of them had ever even seen Voldemort before now.

An eerie calm suddenly filled Harry’s soul, and he was able to focus all his attention on the task at hand. His eyes stared unflinchingly at the creature in front of him. The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, Tom Riddle…Lord Voldemort had returned to Hogwarts.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Curse of the Damned

Voldemort’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the small group of determined followers standing behind Harry. Although their expressions were grim, they all stared back at the Dark Lord defiantly.

"You surprise me, Harry Potter. I hadn’t expected you to bring along any spares this time," he said, his mouth twisting into a hideous manifestation of a grin. His long, thin fingers stroked his chin as he spoke.

Harry felt a chill run up his spine, but refused to let his apprehension show on his face. He clenched his fists tightly. "You’ve got your…friends; I’ve got mine," he said, staring dubiously at the Death Eaters huddled around Luna in the corner.

"He dares defile our lord with his cheek," Bellatrix spat. "Let us take out his silly little followers now. The Mudblood’s presence is an insult to us all." Harry felt rather than saw Neville tense behind him as Ron stepped protectively in front of Hermione.

"Stand down, Bella," Voldemort hissed, and Bellatrix stepped back meekly, although her eyes lost none of their insanity. "This is my moment, and I will play it out in its entirety. I want his little group to witness his destruction. I’ll even allow one of them to survive and spread the tale of his downfall to the rest of world. Lord Voldemort will finally reign again, and Harry Potter will be no more."

George leaned a slightly injured Fred against a pillar and moved to stand defensively by Harry’s side. Harry watched Voldemort carefully, prepared to defend whichever of Harry’s friends that the Dark Lord targeted first.

"Would you care to choose which one survives, Potter? Take your pick…I might even grant your request," Voldemort said, fluttering his emaciated fingers in the air. Harry had no doubt that if he ever named a person – as if he could – that person would be the first one struck down.

As Voldemort ranted, Harry glanced over at Ginny. Using his Legilimency skills, he tried to read her thoughts in order to learn what had been done to her, but there was nothing there to read. Her mind was blank and open. It was Ginny, and yet it wasn’t. For a moment, it shook Harry more than anything else had thus far, until he realized that she was under the Imperius. Ginny was gone, and Voldemort currently controlled her mind – just like it had happened in his dream.

Harry swallowed painfully and dragged his eyes away. She was alive, and that was the most important thing. He intended to see to it that she remained alive throughout this confrontation. That horrible dream would not come to fruition. He had to find a way of getting Voldemort’s attention away from Ginny, so that he could cast the Curse of the Damned and end this thing once and for all. There would be no more escaping; at least one of them wouldn’t leave this Chamber alive today.

His gaze moved towards Luna, who also hadn’t spoken since they’d arrived in the Chamber. Harry extended the stealthy tendrils of his now powerful Legilimency control towards the girl. He’d expected to find her mind in the same state as Ginny’s, but he was shocked to find that her thoughts were her own, if still not easy to read.

Luna’s thoughts jumped all over the place, moving so quickly that it was hard to latch onto a single thread. If this was how her mind worked on a normal basis, no wonder she appeared so out of it all the time.

Harry had mastered Legilimency a long time ago and was powerful enough to keep even Voldemort out of his thoughts, but reading Luna was damn near impossible. Her mind was so jumbled and full, it was almost like she was a natural Legilimens. The one, clear, strong piece of information Harry could gather had something to do with her mother, but Harry wasn’t certain what that meant.

"As you can see, my faithful followers have this situation well in hand. My dedicated servant, Narcissa, has redeemed herself to me with the manipulation of one close to you, enabling me to remain aware of your activities," Voldemort said. His voice was seductive and hypnotic, and Harry had to shake his head to keep from being mesmerized. "Does this all seem vaguely familiar to you, Harry? You see, your foolish attempts at Occlumency in order to keep me out of your mind were useless. Lord Voldemort always knows."

"Luna," Harry asked, ignoring Voldemort. "Why?"

Luna’s dreamy expression hardened as she looked at Harry. "I know you’re not the real Harry Potter; I know what you’ve done with him. My mother told me everything," she said, taking a step closer to Narcissa.

Confusion showed on Harry’s face; he knew that Luna’s mother had been dead for a long time. "What? It is me, Luna. They’re tricking you, somehow."

"You’re the one who has been tricked," Luna said fiercely. It’s all a plot by the Ministry to keep us from communicating with the next world. It’s why they’ve silenced my father’s paper – because it reveals too much of the truth."

"What?"

"My mother managed to escape, and she told me how they are the ones who want to allow the spirits free, and the Ministry is trying to stop them," Luna shouted, pointing at the Death Eaters surrounding her.

"The Ministry has the real Harry Potter, because he heard the voices in that Veil, too. They want to stop him from telling the truth, and you’re one of them," Luna said, taking a step towards him.

"You’re mad," Harry said, automatically taking a step back. His mind flashed on how easy it would be trick Luna. She was always slightly out there, anyway, and a little more strange behavior would go unnoticed.

"It’s true, isn’t it, Mum?" Luna asked, turning towards Narcissa.

Narcissa smiled coldly as her features began changing. Her hair lengthened and became even lighter; her eyes became the same intense blue as Luna’s. She continued to transform until she resembled an older version of the girl.

"Luna, I told you, darling. I can’t freely come back until we take control of the Ministry. The people will help us if we expose that this Harry is a fraud," Narcissa said, malice gleaming in her eyes.

"She’s tricking you, Luna," Hermione shouted. "Can’t you see that? It’s Narcissa Malfoy, and she’s a Metamorphmagus."

"Silence, Mudblood," Bellatrix sneered, sending a stunner towards Hermione, who easily shielded herself from it. Harry moved to stand between Hermione and Bellatrix.

"Hold your fire, Bella. I warned you once already," Voldemort said quietly, but the power in his voice was palpable. Bellatrix lowered her wand.

"Yes, master," she said, bowing her head.

"Don’t listen to her, darling," Narcissa said, running her hand along Luna’s upturned face. "You know the truth; you can feel it here," she said, laying her hand on Luna’s heart. She turned and smiled wickedly at Harry. "You’ve done your part, Luna, and you shall be rewarded. Luna has been most forthcoming with information on your activities. Aside from a brief lapse in judgement when she broke up with Longbottom, she’s been most helpful."

Neville inhaled sharply.

"You’re wrong," Luna said to Hermione. "My mother is here. She’s only inhabiting this body until she can be free to roam on her own. That won’t happen until the current Ministry can be overturned. The way to do that is to reveal that this Harry is an imposter and has been for quite some time. My mother contacted me last summer, and she’s kept in touch with me all year. We’ll be together again soon, forever."

"Oh, Luna," Hermione said sadly. "They’ve thoroughly manipulated you."

"You think that you can beat me, Harry? You think that this Curse of the Damned will enable you to get the best of me?" Voldemort asked, dragging Harry’s attention away from Luna. Harry’s eyes widened in alarm.

"Oh, yes…I know all about your little plans. Ms. Lovegood was quite forthcoming. You will never succeed. Old Magic is useless and a waste of time. That is why it is called Old Magic – because it’s outdated and based on fallacies. Dumbledore was a fool to trust it. A fool who did eventually succumb to Lord Voldemort…as will you."

Harry clenched his fists in anger. "Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard who ever lived, and you know it. That’s why you feared him."

Voldemort’s nostrils flared. "Lord Voldemort fears no one. I didn’t fear him; I killed him."

"You didn’t kill him; he sacrificed himself to save me. He chose to do that…because he loved me," Harry said, his voice cracking. He’d never felt more certain about his convictions, and he felt that, even now, Dumbledore was here with him, somehow.

"Love," Voldemort spat in contempt. "There is no such thing. I told you before, boy, there is no such thing as love, only power and those – like yourself – too weak to seek it. I gave you the chance once before to join me and feel the rush of glory my power can bring. I will not offer that chance again. You will die here, today, and my victory shall be complete."

"You’ve been beaten by love once before," Harry said, nearly spitting his words.

Voldemort’s upper lip curled back with his hatred. "I underestimated the blood protection your Muggleborn mother gave you, but Dumbledore’s sacrifice didn’t have anything to do with blood. It wasn’t the same thing, and it has nothing to do with me."

He stopped and allowed his gaze to roam over Ginny, who stood immobile and staring at Harry with vacant eyes. "You…who put so much faith in love…are a fool, Harry Potter. Let us see how much young Ginevra here really loves you. Shall we, Harry?" he asked as he caressed Ginny’s cheek with one long, skeletal finger.

"Leave her out of this, Tom. This is between you and me," Harry said, forcing himself to hold his ground. He wanted to rush forward and physically drag Voldemort’s hand off of his Ginny. Sparks flew from the end of his wand as he struggled to hold his temper. He wanted to lash out and strike, but Dumbledore had drilled it into his head to let Voldemort attack first, if possible. This time, he wasn’t going to make any mistakes. But so help him, if that wanker didn’t get his hands off Ginny he was going to forget the wand and punch him in the nose!

"Do not call me by that name," Voldemort snarled, his attention returning to Harry.

"Why? It’s the name your mother gave you. Your father’s name," Harry said, knowing Voldemort was close to losing control. Words were weapons; he’d seen both Snape and Malfoy use them effectively, never mind the Dursleys. He could do it, too. If he couldn’t strike with his wand as he longed to do, he’d try and goad him into beginning this battle.

"My name is Lord Voldemort, and I am the greatest wizard in the world. There is no trace of that weak fool left in me," Voldemort said, shaking with impotent rage.

"So, you’re a half-blood, then? Well, if your power can overcome what you consider to be a weakness in your bloodline, why can’t all half-bloods do the same? And…if half-bloods can do it, why not simply teach those of Muggle parentage how to use their power to strengthen it? Oh…hmm…isn’t that what Professor Dumbledore has been doing all along?" Harry asked, his voice mocking.

Voldemort’s rage consumed him. His face contorted into a grimace of rage, and he unleashed a powerful Cruciatus Curse towards Harry. Harry dropped to his knees and rolled out of the way. His friends all backed away, widening the circle around him, but keeping their wands trained on the menacing figure in front of them. Only Ginny remained still where she stood, never even looking for cover. Voldemort fired another three curses at Harry in rapid succession, and Harry managed to dodge all of them. He wanted to return the fire, but feared hitting Ginny in the process. He had to draw Voldemort away from her.

It didn’t take Voldemort long to realize Harry’s dilemma.

"You fool. You don’t want to hit the girl, so you risk taking a curse yourself. You’re an idiot, boy. Is that how to hurt you, then? Is the secret not to aim at you at all?" Voldemort asked, his eyes taking on a sickening, malicious gleam. The delight nearly radiated off him. He raised his wand slowly, as if tantalizing Harry with his every move. He stopped when his wand was aimed directly at Ginny.

"Sorry, my dear, but there has been a change in plans," he said, smiling cruelly. "Crucio."

Harry didn’t think; he simply moved. As a ray of light sped from Voldemort’s wand towards Ginny’s still form, Harry leapt from his position on the floor and dove towards her. He took the curse full in the chest and landed on the ground, thrashing madly. He had one coherent thought before the excruciating pain completely overtook his mind – that Voldemort’s Cruciatus was ten times worse than anyone else’s. He’d forgotten how much it hurt. His screams echoed off the walls and reverberated throughout the Chamber. He bit through his own tongue, trying to contain his screams.

He could hear Ron’s voice shouting above all the other voices and saw enough colors and flashes of light above him to know that curses were being fired. He instinctively knew that the others had joined the fray, but the agony he was experiencing was so intense, so all-consuming, that he could focus on nothing else. Then, the pain stopped as suddenly as it had started, and Harry was left in a heap on the floor, panting and trying to reorient himself. Ginny remained in the same spot, staring at him still with emotionless eyes.

"Ginny," he whispered, struggling to rise to his feet and holding his wand out in front of him.

He could see Hermione battling with Narcissa and trying to reason with Luna, while Ron and George both volleyed curses with Lucius. Percy and Fred had already stunned several of the other Death Eaters, who lay unmoving on the floor. Percy was muttering something about Minister Fudge insisting that these people hadn’t been Death Eaters, and he seemed to be taking it personally.

What alarmed him most was watching Neville stalk towards Bellatrix with a manic gleam in his eyes. There was no trace of the timid boy Neville had been. Harry could feel Neville’s hatred radiating off of him.

"Neville," Ron said.

"She’s mine," Neville replied, never taking his eyes off the woman who had ripped his family apart.

As Ron was distracted by Neville’s battle with Bellatrix, Lucius raised his wand and aimed it at Ron.

"Ron, duck!" Harry shouted, firing a powerful bludgeoning Curse at Lucius and knocking him to the ground. His curse flew harmlessly in the air. Panting, Harry turned back towards Ginny. "Ginny."

"He’s calling to you, Ginevra. You must answer him." Voldemort’s manipulative voice called his attention away from the battle. He completely ignored what was happening with his Death Eaters except for a brief scowl directed at Lucius. Voldemort stood next to Ginny, whispering in her ear.

Ginny’s wand rose in the air slowly. Her hand shook, as if she were fighting the motion. Her pale skin appeared almost transparent in the dim light of the Chamber, and Harry thought that she was in pain.

"Leave her alone," Harry snarled.

"That’s right, Ginevra. You know what you must do. Do it now." Voldemort whispered in her ear seductively.

"Amburoustum," Ginny said tonelessly.

Harry instinctively raised a shield to protect himself, not knowing what the curse would do. "Protego."

A thin liquid substance sprayed from Ginny’s wand, but as the droplets hit his shield with a sharp hissing sound, they deflected back towards Ginny. She was sprayed with several drops of the unknown liquid. Harry saw smoke rising from her skin where the liquid had made contact, and he realized that it was burning her. She didn’t make a sound, but he could see the pain deep within her eyes.

"Ginny!" he yelled in horror, taking a step towards her. He desperately wanted to wipe the stuff off of her and stop her pain, but he had to hold his position. What have I done?

Voldemort kept his wand pointed at Harry while he leaned towards Ginny and said, "Again, Ginevra. Do it again."

Ginny whimpered but raised her wand. "Amburoustum," she said with a hitch in her voice. Portions of the burned skin on her arm were literally hanging off of her in clumps.

Harry couldn’t bear to raise a shield, knowing that it would hit her again. His horrified gaze was transfixed on the burnt flesh exposed on her hand and arm. Instead, he turned his body to the side and tried to pull back as far away from her as possible.

Burning drops of acid landed on the side of his face, his shoulder, and down his back. The thin material of his robe smoked and burnt away quickly, and only the briefest of moments passed before it touched his skin. His robes burst into flames very quickly, and he had to roll on the ground to put the fire out. He began shaking violently, but used every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep the shock at bay.

His face burned with excruciating pain, and he fought the urge to claw at his skin to get it off. He knew that would only make it worse. He could feel his skin oozing a weepy kind of substance, and he assumed it came from the open wounds. His entire face felt wet and sticky.

The feeling on his back was much the same as on his face. It felt damp with moisture, and he wanted to cry out in agony from the spots where the fabric from his shirt had fused with his skin. If he craned his neck, he could see blisters rising from the redness.

Oddly, the skin on his shoulder and arm looked worse – it was blackened and charred, and the sight of it made him want to be sick – but it didn’t hurt at all. In fact, he’d lost all sensation in his arm. It was his back that was killing him.

Harry called up his Occlumency shield and used the Tai Chi skills that Jonathan had taught him to focus on something besides the pain. Getting his breathing under control was the first step. Once he was in his calm place, he reached his mind back towards Ginny. He’d seen her hand shaking. His Ginny was in there somewhere, fighting for control, and he had to help her.

Her mind was still blank, but he could sense her more this time. Her mind resembled a heavy gray fog, but he was certain he could hear a distant screaming.

"Ginny?" he called out to her within his mind. "You can fight this, Ginny."

"Harry, you fool," Voldemort laughed almost gaily. He was enjoying this immensely. "You think a foolish little girl can beat me? She’ll never resist me; she never could."

Harry felt the familiar rush of Ginny’s anger within her mind. He could feel her presence stronger than before…and she was fighting.

"He’s not finished yet, Ginevra. Hit him again," Voldemort commanded.

"No, Ginny, don’t. It’s me; it’s Harry. Follow my voice; you can fight him. You’re stronger than him, Ginny. I know you are."

"Harry?" her voice was vague and faraway, sounding very unsure.

"I’m here, Ginny. You’re doing great. Fight him."

"Ginevra, I said to curse him again, you stupid girl," Voldemort demanded.

Ginny’s entire body shook as she struggled to shake off the Imperius. Her arm rose again, and for a moment Harry thought she’d failed.

"Ambur-," she began before spinning in the opposite direction and snarling at Voldemort. "No! You bastard. I hate you. I hate you. Amburoustum."

The curse left Ginny’s wand and hit Voldemort before he even had time to raise a shield. He was still too stunned that Ginny had broken away from his Imperius Curse. In that split second of confusion, Harry grabbed her and pulled her away from the madman in front of him. He raised his hand and shoved at the blank air, using his anger to force Voldemort back and away from them.

He wanted to hold Ginny and calm her and tell her everything would be all right, but he couldn’t do that right then. There was no time, and he was still using most of his energy to block the pain from his burns. Instead, he dragged her slight body behind him and pushed her towards Fred, who remained standing behind him, using a pillar to support his injured leg. Fred caught her and pulled her tenderly to his chest. She was crying hysterically, but Fred held her firmly in place. Harry used his eyes to plead with Fred to keep her there, and Fred nodded mutely in acknowledgement.

Voldemort’s screams from the burning acid finally lessened. The skin on his face hung in clumps, peeling and raw. Open sores oozed painfully, and Harry shuddered to know that his own face couldn’t look much better. Voldemort turned his hate-filled eyes towards Ginny. "No one dares to defile Lord Voldemort."

"She got you, and she got you good, didn’t she, Tom? You should see her Bat Bogey Hex. You don’t want to mess with her," Harry said calmly. Now that Ginny was out of the way and free from Voldemort’s spell, Harry allowed his full anger to surface. How dare he touch her? He was going to pay for that. Harry felt that surge of power that he’d felt during his duel with Snape, only this time, he let it come. His fingers tingled with energy as he glared at his foe.

"Diffindo," he snarled and was satisfied to see his curse meet its target.

Voldemort’s eyes widened in surprise that Harry was able to penetrate his shield. "Insolent fool," Voldemort snarled. "Crucio!"

Harry easily dodged this one and returned with a Stunner and a particularly harsh Stinging hex that Abe had shown him. Voldemort blocked them without effort. They circled each other, each firing curses at such a rapid rate it was hard for the eye to follow. They each met with limited success, but each would hit their mark on occasion. Harry felt rejuvenated as he allowed himself to unleash some of his anger and frustration. He’d come a long way from the last time they’d dueled. Both combatants became bloodied and bruised, but remained on their feet without stopping. It was only when they both fired at the same time that something went wrong.

Harry and Voldemort’s curses hit in the middle and ricocheted sideways. Harry’s bounced harmlessly off the wall, but Voldemort’s more powerful Cruciatus hit Bellatrix, who was still battling with Neville. She went down in a heap, panting and howling. Something about her screams was oddly sensual and out of place under the dire circumstances. Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt that Bellatrix had enjoyed that pain, and it made him shudder with revulsion.

Voldemort lifted the curse immediately, confusion written clearly on his serpentine face. Harry used this moment of distraction to fire and once again hit his mark. Voldemort raised his wand and fired a curse at Harry, who easily blocked it. They began their battle anew. Harry’s mind worked furiously. He knew that their wands were brothers; they shared the same core and couldn’t be trusted in battle against each other. Voldemort lacked this piece of information, however. Harry had never revealed that important detail when he’d given his interview to the Quibbler and pretended to be just as confused as everyone else over why Priori Incantatum had occurred. In fact, he’d been so uncomfortable with yet another strange connection to Voldemort that he hadn’t even told his friends about the brother wands.

Professor Dumbledore had shown Harry a way to get around the problem, and Harry wanted to use this bit of information to his advantage. Dumbledore had told him to aim his wand slightly to the left while saying the curse, only jerking it back into place at the final second the words of whatever spell he was using left his lips. He’d told Harry that by adjusting his wand at the last second, he could control the aim of his spell.

Harry grew weary with the exertion of the battle. The Cruciatus had taken a lot out of him, and his back ached painfully. He could feel his skin ripping anew with every move he made. Still, he fought to continue his meditative breathing in order to block the pain and continued the battle. As their spells crossed again, Harry realized too late that Voldemort’s spell had ricocheted towards Fred and Ginny. Fred took a powerful bludgeoning blast that forced him into the stone pillar, gasping for breath. In the confusion, his grip on Ginny lessened, and she turned her tear-streaked face towards Harry and Voldemort.

"Ginny, no!" he shouted, but his moment of distraction was enough.

Voldemort’s Bludgeoning Curse hit him in the chest and forced him back several meters, gasping for breath. He sat on floor for a moment, shaking his head to try and clear it. He spat out some blood and struggled to rise on his shaking legs while Voldemort watched him with sadistic amusement, like a cat toying with a mouse before he killed it.

"You are an idiot, Harry, and she is your greatest mistake. You never should have let a woman get to you, regardless of how attracted you are to her. She is a weakness. Women are to be used to meet your needs and discarded. I’d thought better of you, but you’re obviously no smarter than your father. He allowed his base needs to cloud his judgement concerning a woman, as well," Voldemort said, sneering.

"You coward!" Ginny raged. She’d drawn herself up to her full height and hissed like a fierce tigress "You like to think you’re this great powerful wizard…but you’re not. You’re weak and loathsome. What? You need to prove your greatness by attacking a defenseless baby?"

"Ginny," Harry said, desperately wanting her to be quiet and let him do what he had to do before she became another spare. Ginny, of course, was not buying into his plans to keep her out of it for an instant.

Voldemort was incensed by Ginny’s disdain. "I am Lord Voldemort. I am the strongest wizard to ever live."

"Lily Potter was ten times stronger than you," Ginny said, crossing her arms defiantly. "She wasn’t afraid of you. She stood up to you. She defended her child, her FIFTEEN MONTH OLD child against you, and she beat you. She had more power than you could ever hope to have."

"And I destroyed her," Voldemort snarled. "She couldn’t manage to save her own life against me."

"It wasn’t her own life that she was trying to save – it was her baby’s – because he meant more to her than anything else ever could, her own life included. And you can never know the power behind that love," Ginny said smugly.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort shouted. "You will learn your proper place and to kneel before me in submission before I kill you, foolish girl."

Ginny lifted her chin in the air and spat.

Harry’s scar flared with pain from Voldemort’s surge of hatred. He clamped a hand to it as he silently cheered for his girlfriend. She refused to be cowed by this bully, and Harry wouldn’t be, either.

Voldemort’s cold eyes locked on Ginny’s, and he took a step towards her, raising his wand. "Avada-"

"No!" Harry leaned over and physically grabbed the hem of Vodemort’s robe. He gave a strong tug, causing Voldemort to stumble; he had to fight to keep his balance. Harry aimed his wand and fired a powerful cutting curse that tore into the side of Voldemort’s leg, making him howl with pain. Blood gushed from the wound, pooling on the floor.

Taking advantage of his lead, he conjured salt and scattered it across Voldemort’s gaping wound. Voldemort shrieked in pain and hissed like a serpent, but still managed to rise to his feet. Now that he had Voldemort’s complete attention once again, the battle resumed. Harry was alit from within by that all-intense power, and he radiated with a bright white light. He cast curse after curse and volleyed Voldemort’s spells back, using Professor Dumbledore’s trick wrist movement. Whenever they fired at the same time, Voldemort’s spells misfired, and Harry could detect the extreme annoyance and confusion in his foe. It was time to try the Curse of the Damned. Both were tired, and a lot of their energy had been exerted; he just had to maneuver Voldemort into the open center of the Chamber.

"You have come a long way, young Harry, but you’ll never be a match for me," Voldemort said, caressing his wand with reverence.

As Voldemort’s wand misfired yet again, he finally lost his patience and fired the Killing Curse towards Harry. Harry countered with a Bludgeoning Curse and dove out of the way.

The two curses connected once again, and the green light of Voldemort’s Killing Curse headed straight towards Narcissa Malfoy. Her frigid eyes widened in mute horror. In a split second, she grasped Luna’s robes and forced the girl in front of her, using her as a shield.

"Mum?" Luna asked, bewildered, before the rushing sound reached her, and she was enveloped in the sickly green light for a brief instant before dropping to the ground. Her lifeless blue eyes remained open, but the quirky dreaminess that was Luna was gone.

Hermione, who had been standing next to them, froze in horror for a moment. It was Narcissa’s slight movement that snapped her out of her daze.

"You foul, loathsome, evil woman," she hissed, firing a powerful stunner at Narcissa. Mrs. Malfoy raised a shield, but it crumbled under the power of Hermione’s spell, and she slumped unconscious to the floor.

Hermione gently knelt beside Luna and wept.

Harry clenched his jaw as his anger pulsed and throbbed in his veins. He felt such hatred that it burned along his windpipe. They’d taken Luna’s desire to see her mum again, and they’d tricked her. They’d used her in the cruelest way, and he wanted them to pay for it. His emerald-colored eyes glowed with power as he looked towards his foe.

He and Voldemort resumed their duel. Both were physically wounded and exhausted at this point, but neither was willing to concede. The battle was fierce and intense. Sparks flew from Harry’s wand as he furiously cast spell after spell. Voldemort’s spells continued to go awry each time he cast one at the same moment as Harry.

"Interesting spell you’ve cast on my wand," Voldemort said, stopping the battle and staring at his wand. "If I had more time, I’d like you to teach me what it is, but, alas, your time has come."

He transfigured his useless wand into a glistening sword with a sharp, gleaming blade. "I think it’s time to change tactics."

Harry grinned. "A Muggle weapon, Tom? My, how the mighty have fallen."

Voldemort’s face contorted with anger, and he thrust his sword at Harry’s mid-section. Harry twirled and moved away. He was about to transfigure his own wand when Fawkes once again swooped into the Chamber, carrying Godric Gryffindor’s sword. He dropped it right into Harry’s outstretched hand and trilled a song that filled Harry’s heart with hope. Somehow, having Fawkes there not only calmed him, but made him feel powerful. He could do this.

"You’re going to die, and a foolish songbird won’t help you," Voldemort said confidently. He thrust his sword, and the two began to parry.

"So be it," Harry said, as their swords clanked together. Physically, Harry was spent, and even raising the sword was a considerable effort. He hoped Voldemort felt half as bad as he did.

"How can you look at death so casually?" Voldemort asked with contempt.

"I don’t, but I know stopping you is more important, and I know people will miss me – that my life has been worthwhile. Can you say the same, Tom?" Harry asked, thrusting his sword and positioning Voldemort in the center of the room.

He felt powerful and strong. Those words were the exact opposite of everything the Dursleys had ever told him, and yet he knew they were true. That feeling invigorated him, causing his adrenaline to rush in a burst of power. It was time. Letting the sword fall to his side, Harry raised his wand and aimed it at Voldemort.

"Mortalis Patronum," he bellowed, releasing the power of the Curse of the Damned. A golden smoke issued from Harry’s wand, and the beam of glowing light connected with Voldemort’s wand with crackling intensity. Harry’s arm began to shake immediately, sending waves of penetrating agony along the burns on his back. Fawkes trilled serenely from his perch near the opening from where the Basilisk had once emerged.

Voldemort’s arm shook, as well. "So, you’ve decided to use this archaic magic, anyway?" he asked, panting. "It will do you no good; I cannot be defeated, and I won’t let this nonsense continue. Your silly little friend told me all about your Curse of the Damned. Honestly, Harry, I expected better from you. Do you still think your dead mummy can help you?"

"She certainly succeeded the last time," Harry replied, focusing all his energy and will on maintaining the connection. He refused to let Voldemort’s words affect him.

"That was then; this is now," Voldemort replied, sounding almost bored.

"And you’re still underestimating her power," Harry said calmly.

He saw a flicker of annoyance flash across Voldemort’s face before the mask of indifference fell back into place once again. Both combatants trembled with fatigue as the light between their wands grew and faded at random.

Harry began to see dark spots in his peripheral vision and knew he was close to passing out. He shook his head and forced himself to focus. Voldemort was strong, stronger than any other opponent that he’d ever faced. Harry needed an edge, something to strengthen his power and give him the advantage.

His gaze flickered to Ginny, and he felt his love for her surge. She was huddled against the pillar with Fred, watching his struggle with a look of sheer terror upon her face. He watched her face, fascinated by the flow of tears and knew with the power of his Legilimency skills that the guilt she felt for cursing him was overwhelming her.

If Harry didn’t succeed – if something went wrong and he were the one to die – it wouldn’t matter that Ginny had survived. The guilt of what she’d been forced to do would kill her. Harry wouldn’t let that happen. He had to survive – for her.

The sound of Fawkes’ song filled his heart with emotion. Pouring all the love he felt for Ginny into his magic – and noticing that the pain in his scar receded until it diminished as he did – Harry grit his teeth and pushed.

The beam of light grew stronger and brighter, crackling with its raw power and intensity. The light grew and grew until it filled the cavern and caused everyone but Harry to shield their eyes from the brightness. The light from Voldemort’s wand seemed to meld and join with Harry’s bright white light until the entire Chamber was glowing with an ethereal quality.

"What is this?" Voldemort hissed, and Harry could feel the uncertainty in his voice.

Figures emerged from the light, hundreds of shapes made of light, easily distinguishable as the people they once were. One shape rose behind Harry and spoke in a voice Harry thought he’d never hear again.

"Hello, Tom. I told you we would meet again," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling benignly. The twinkling in his eyes literally made them sizzle with raw power.

"Impossible," Voldemort said. "You’re dead."

"I am and thus wield a power far greater than you will ever know. I denounce you, Tom, and claim your magic for your crimes against me. I hereby start the chain," Dumbledore said, raising his glowing hand towards Voldemort. A beam of light shot forth and connected the two. Voldemort screamed when the light hit him, and Professor Dumbledore appeared to glow even brighter before his figure faded.

Voices echoed around the Chamber, all repeating the same words as victim after victim of Voldemort’s wrath claimed a piece of his power as payment for their own demise. Harry recognized the majority of the faces – he’d been listing these people in his head for years now. They were all of Voldemort’s victims. The room was so bright that Harry thought it would burst with the intensity. He could see his friends huddled against the walls, shielding their eyes from the light and yet still trying to see what was happening.

"Thanks for giving me this chance, Harry," Charlie’s voice came from somewhere to his left. Harry heard Ginny’s gasp when she saw the form of her brother.

Other victims moved forward as those who’d already shot their beams stepped back. Voldemort dropped to his knees as the light appeared to pierce his skin. Another figure stepped into Charlie’s place and met Harry with a familiar grin.

"Hey, kiddo. I knew you could do it."

"Sirius," Harry choked out. He’d managed to control the shock from his burns, but this was too much, and he felt his grip fading.

"Stay strong, Harry. I’ve waited so long for this," Sirius said, raising his wand and connecting a beam of light to Voldemort. "Take that, you bastard."

Sirius glowed brightly for an instant before he began to fade. The last thing Harry could distinguish was Sirius winking at him, and his heart broke again.

"Don’t go," he whispered futilely.

Harry couldn’t drag his eyes from the fading image of Sirius and was thus startled to see Jonathan Taylor stepping forth. With him was a woman with long dark hair and two young children tugging on his robes.

"Thank you for giving me this chance. I always wanted to be involved in his downfall, and now you’ve let me do that," Jonathan said.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat when Cedric approached him. He nodded solemnly at Harry before turning to Voldemort. "I had plans and dreams, you bastard. I had things I wanted to do. I claim your magic for your crimes against me."

Harry felt tears streaking down his face as he watched Cedric’s light fade.

His head spun. He didn’t know why he wasn’t affected by the brightness as all the others were, but suspected it had something to do with the fact that he’d cast the spell. He didn’t have more than a moment to reflect upon it as two more figures stepped forward. The light from his parents seemed to shimmer the closer they stepped towards him.

"Mum, Dad," Harry whispered, his lip trembling slightly.

"You did it, Harry. I wish it hadn’t had to be you, but you did it," Lily said, gazing lovingly at her son.

"You still need to finish this, Harry," James said. "But I have no doubt you will, and then I want you to live, really live, my son. I’m so proud of you."

Harry swallowed against a painful lump in his throat and nodded solemnly.

Lily turned towards Voldemort, and her face contorted with such rage it was frightening. "How dare you? He was a baby," she screeched, connecting her light with his and dimming it further. Her wrath took the longest time yet to extinguish.

When finally the light in the room began to dim and the last of the figures had faded, Professor Dumbledore’s voice filled the Chamber again. "We have done our part, Harry. This is as far as we can go, but he is mortal. Finish it, Harry."

Voldemort, looking battered and bloodied, screeched his rage and pulled away from the last of the light. "I am Lord Voldemort, and I am immortal."

But that was no longer true; the Curse had seen to that.

Harry pulled himself to his feet. He was winded, and his exhaustion was nearly crippling, but he felt oddly at peace. He knew what had to be done, and he was going to do it. His emerald eyes – eyes that were glowing with a power all their own – locked on Voldemort’s dimmer red ones.

The Dark Lord was beaten under the ferocity of the attack of light, and he knew it. His eyes scanned the room frantically, looking for an escape. He dropped to his knees next to Narcissa’s still stunned body. Her wand lay on the ground next to her, and Voldemort seized it like a drowning man.

Harry’s friends raised their own wands around the room, uttering an incantation that Harry had never heard.

"Amoris Aegidis."

He assumed it was the protection spell that Hermione had found in the ancient book of Old Magic, and he fought to keep his Legilimency shield strong. He couldn’t let Voldemort realize the others were vulnerable while offering their magic to protect him. As they all chanted the spell in unison, Harry felt a calm, inner peace.

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort screeched with glee. The powerful spell sped from his wand in a rush of green light aimed directly at Harry. Before it reached him or he’d had the chance to roll away, however, a golden shield appeared around him, slowing the progress of the curse. The spell still grazed his side as it sped passed him, but Harry was left standing, stunned.

His entire left side, from the tip of his shoulder, along his rib cage and down to his hip, burned intensely, stunning him with the overwhelming agony of it. His vision blurred, and he stumbled, grasping the pillar to remain standing. How am I still alive? Their love for me did it, somehow…again.

Harry was overcome with emotion for those around him. These people were his family, and they deserved so much more than what life had given them thus far. Those that Voldemort had killed had taken their vengeance, but it was these living victims whose love kept Harry alive. He used his Legilimency skills to project the intense feelings he had for those around him towards Voldemort. If he could only know these people the way Harry did.

Harry remembered what had hurt Voldemort last year and drew upon his memories of simple scenes in his past. Ginny laughing by the lake, Mrs. Weasley baking him pudding, the twins’ showing him their latest inventions, laughing with Ron and Hermione on a kitchen run. Simple, everyday pleasures that had brought him such joy in the midst of the chaos in his life. The real moments…those moments for which he was now fighting.

He could feel those same feelings that he felt for the people in his life returned to him from each of them. They each had stood up, willing to die for him. Every one of them had offered his or her own life for him. Harry’s love for them swelled within him in a crescendo of light and sound.

It was more than Voldemort could take. He placed his hands over his ears as if blocking the sound. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and he screamed in agony. He fell to his knees, clutching his head in pain.

As Harry watched the pitiful figure in front of him, his mind was filled with images of an angry young boy in an orphanage, getting picked on by other boys. He received another image of a boy alone at Christmas, watching people on the street with bitter loneliness, and Harry couldn’t help but feel pity for that long-forgotten boy whose life was eerily reminiscent of his own. A huge wave of compassion rose in Harry’s heart; it never had to be this way.

He looked imploringly at his long-time enemy. He still didn’t want to kill, no matter what Voldemort had done. There had been circumstances in his life that had made him the way he was, and perhaps it could have been different if he’d been offered the chance.

"It doesn’t have to be this way, Tom; you don’t have to be this way," Harry said quietly. "You can change. Turn in your wand and accept your punishment. If you surrender now, even if you spend the rest of your life in Azkaban, you can still do the right thing by having your followers stand down. Let it go, Tom."

Voldemort’s face filled with a hatred so intense, the power of it alone should have brought Harry to his knees. "Never," he spat. "Don’t you dare pity me; I am stronger than you can ever hope to be."

Using the mind link to his own advantage, he sent image after hateful image towards Harry. Details of the crimes he’d committed against innocents, and the power he felt from committing those crimes. With a hateful glare, he showed Harry the image of his parents’ home in Godric’s Hollow and the looks on their faces as he killed them.

Harry’s hatred grew yet again, and he fought the instinct to lash out at this despicable creature. With pain burning in his chest, he forced it down, however. He again reminded himself that it was positive thoughts that appeared to hurt Voldemort, that Harry’s hatred only fueled his power.

With immense effort, he clamped down on his anger and countered with thoughts of Ginny and the love and passion he felt for her, allowing Voldemort to feel what Harry felt when she was near.

Voldemort matched him memory for memory…

Harry found himself in that godforsaken graveyard once again and remembered how it felt to be tied to the headstone – helpless – only this time, he felt the emotions from the other side. The rush of power, the thrill…the satisfaction of watching the young boy in front of him tremble with fear…

…a moonlit broom ride, building sandcastles by the sea, tossing leaves by the lake. Harry remembered small, hidden moments and the intense comfort and joy those memories could bring…

…bow to death, Harry, and the predatory, near sensual rush of feeling of having utter and complete control…

…fingers stroking his hair in comfort, kissing by a waterfall, singing Christmas carols by a fire in a warm room surrounded by people he loved…

…Death Eaters kneeling, kissing the hem of his robes, the ultimate power over deciding who lives and who dies, kill the spare…

…kissing the love of his life passionately in a locker room, feeling his hands on her bare skin, the velvety softness and sweet bliss of her allowing him to continue…

Voldemort shrieked and tried to break the connection to pull away, but Harry wouldn’t let him out of his mind. He pushed even more memories, every joyful, stolen moment of sheer happiness despite the war towards his foe. He could feel Voldemort’s mind weakening, getting ready to snap. When it did, Harry was forced from his mind with the impact of a freight train. He was picked up and hurled to the ground as if he weighed nothing at all.

Voldemort stood completely still for a moment before he let loose a bloodcurdling scream and burst in a tremendous puff of smoke, leaving Harry gasping and covered in blood, both Voldemort’s and his own. The foul-smelling ball of smoke rose in the air, sizzling with malevolent power and causing green sparks to hiss above their heads. An unearthly sound of rage and despair echoed on the walls and increased in volume as the smoke rose into the air.

The entire Chamber began to rumble and shake. Spidery cracks appeared along the ceiling as the pillars shook and swayed. Harry’s scar exploded with pain so intense that it made his eyes water. He grasped one hand to his forehead and felt a warm trickle of blood gushing between his fingers. The room blurred and began to sway as he willed the pain to recede.

Everyone in the room froze where they stood, staring with numb disbelief at the ashes that were all that remained of the Dark Lord. No one moved; no one even breathed for a moment, unsure that what had just happened had really happened.

The shock finally began to penetrate Harry’s numbed brain, and his entire body began to tremble. He couldn’t force his eyes away from what remained of Voldemort if he tried. Is it really over? What did that mean? His mind seemed unwilling to process any more, and he felt suddenly lost and very alone. The pain in his scar had faded, but a dull throb was left behind, making him feel dizzy and unable to focus.

Releasing a primal bellow of rage, Lucius Malfoy grabbed Voldemort’s fallen sword and rushed at Ron with a deranged fury.

Momentarily stunned and caught unaware, Ron looked up in time to see Lucius’ sword plunge into his abdomen. Harry saw the shock and surprise filter across Ron’s face before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed. Hermione’s agonized scream filled the cavern as she bolted towards Ron’s crumpled form.

Harry’s anger overrode his shock and fueled his energy. He grabbed his own sword and rushed at Lucius. His body was incredibly weak, so weak he could barely stand, but he fought it as he parried with Lucius.

"I am the new Dark Lord now, Potter, and I won’t be sidetracked by a silly feud with you." Lucius cackled with madness. His forearm, where the Dark Mark had been but was no longer visible, was bleeding profusely.

Harry was spent and rapidly losing the battle to stay conscious, and Lucius knew it.

"You survived the Killing Curse; now let’s see you survive this," he said, slicing Harry’s abdomen viciously.

Maybe it was because it wasn’t really a sword but a wand, or maybe it was because it had been Voldemort’s wand, but Harry could feel the magic as it pierced his skin. He stumbled and fell to the ground next to his sword. Lucius reached down and grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing the pale white skin of his throat. Lucius placed the sharp blade underneath Harry’s throat and taunted him.

Harry was on his hands and knees, struggling to keep the blade away from his throat. His friends stood in mute horror around him, afraid to move lest Lucius cut Harry’s throat. Suddenly, Harry bent one elbow and rolled onto his back, cringing in agony as his burns scraped the ground. With his sword still in his hand, he raised it up and thrust it into Lucius’ chest.

He didn’t have enough strength to do more than slightly puncture Lucius’s skin, despite his massive effort.

Lucius eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at the sword protruding from his chest.

With a screech of venom, Ginny broke free from Fred’s grasp and hurled herself full force onto Lucius’ back. She pressed his body onto the blade in Harry’s hand and let it sink deep into Lucius’s skin until it poked out through his back. Lucius collapsed, dead, on top of Harry.

Suddenly, as Voldemort’s life force swelled and burnt out, the whole Chamber began to shake violently. Chucks of stone fell from the ceiling as the room began to cave in around them.

Harry heard the noise echoing in the Chamber and realized that he couldn’t hear Fawkes anymore. His vision dimmed and blurred as he finally gave in to the unconsciousness that had been trying to claim him.

Chapter Thirty: Survivors

Harry felt peaceful and relaxed, almost as if he were floating. He could vaguely hear the sounds of rumbling and distorted voices, but they seemed so far away, and he really didn’t want to pay attention to them. He was enjoying this calm nothingness and wasn’t willing to give it up just yet. The longer he rested, refusing to open his eyes, the further away the noises seemed to move.

Eventually, his curiosity won out, and he groggily opened his eyes. Confused, he found himself in a…room…he supposed, but he didn’t know where. Everything was pure white, and a mist hung in the air. The room looked to be made of smoke and mirrors without so much as a small table for furniture. He wasn’t certain where the light was coming from, but the room appeared to glow with a light all its own.

He stood up gingerly and was surprised to realize that he felt no pain. He was slightly stiff, but that was all. Studying himself carefully, he noted dispassionately that he was dressed in loose-fitting white trousers and a white tunic-style top. He was also barefoot and had no idea how he’d got this way. These weren’t like any clothes he owned, and they certainly weren’t what he’d been wearing during the fight.

He thought the room should be cold, since he could see steam rise from his mouth and nose as he breathed, but he didn’t feel a chill. He was neither warm nor cold; he simply was. He shook his head and tried to clear it in order to remember what had happened, but his memory was so foggy. He’d been fighting Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets…and then he was here, wherever here was. There were no memories in between. Am I dead? Did Voldemort win? Did I take him with me? What do I do now?

Harry thought he should be alarmed, but he felt oddly disconnected from everything. He shuffled toward one of the mirrors and peered inside. He could see the Chamber of Secrets – or what was left of it. Deep cracks ran all along the ceiling and walls. Huge chunks of stone debris were piled everywhere, and the floor was covered with a murky green slime. He could see where the muck was oozing in from one wall, showing a massive crack in its center. A great cloud of dust made it impossible to see the center of the Chamber clearly.

His eyes scanned the room but could find no sign of life. Where was everyone? How long had he been here? Did the others all get out? What happened? As if someone threw a switch, Harry’s fear and panic came crashing back upon him all at once, dropping him to his knees. He had to know what had happened to the others. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and his breath came in short, painful gasps.

He slid his hands along the mirror, seeking any possible way out, with his anxiety mounting. He moved from one end of the vast mirror to the other, but it was hopeless. He spun around in a panic, uncertain what to do. If he was dead, he wasn’t real thrilled with the welcome.

"Hey, kiddo," a familiar voice said from behind him.

Harry froze. Shutting his eyes against the surge of pain in his chest, he slowly turned around and opened them to see Sirius standing there. He was dressed in well-cut robes of midnight blue. His hair was still long, but neat and trimmed, and the haunted look that had always been so prevalent on his godfather’s face was missing. Sirius looked good – polished, even – and Harry was stunned silent, staring at him.

"I suppose I can’t really call you that anymore, can I? You’ve grown into an amazing young man," Sirius said wistfully.

Harry’s throat ached. "No…you ca…I li…Kiddo is still okay, er…" It occurred to Harry that it was cosmically ironic that if he was dead, he still couldn’t come up with the right words to say.

"It’s good to see you, Harry," Sirius said, smiling.

"It’s good to see you, too. Is this real, Sirius?" he asked, not certain what he wanted the answer to be.

"Is what real, Harry?" Sirius asked, and he seemed so very sad.

"Are you real? Am I dead?" he whispered.

"I am dead…you are not. Not yet, anyway," Sirius said.

Harry shook his head, confused. "What about the others? Are they okay? Did they get out of the Chamber?" he asked.

"They’re still there," Sirius said. "I’ll show you."

He walked over to Harry and led him back towards the mirror that Harry had been staring at only moments earlier.

"Sirius, I don’t understand. What happened? What is happening?" he asked.

Sirius wrapped his arm around Harry and gave him a hug to rival one of Mrs. Weasley’s. "Merlin, I’ve missed you," Sirius said gruffly.

Harry’s vision blurred. "I’ve missed you, too, Sirius…more than you’ll ever know."

"I do know, Harry. I’ve watched you. Your parents and I have all watched you, and we’ve been so proud of all you’ve done," Sirius said, beaming.

"My parents?" Harry asked, unable to mask the wonder in his voice.

Sirius nodded. "They’ll be here soon; they want to talk to you."

Harry tried to swallow the painful lump in his throat, but was unable to do so. His head was spinning; everything was moving too fast. Talk with my parents? "What…what happened to the others?" Harry choked, unable to get the words out properly.

"They’re still in the Chamber. Go on, take a look," Sirius said, nodding towards the mirror.

"Still there? But…how long have I been here?" Harry asked, unable to tear his eyes away from his godfather’s face.

"Time has no meaning here, Harry. We are on the border between our two worlds, and you are looking at the moment in time when you arrived here and what happened in the physical world," Sirius said.

Harry didn’t understand, but he dragged his eyes to the mirror. The Chamber looked as clouded and empty as it had a moment before, only this time, Harry noticed that he could hear the sounds. A great rumble of stone crashing upon stone and the faint sound of trickling water filled the Chamber. Harry cocked his head to listen more closely as he heard a distant rustling beneath some of the stone.

Harry searched the room until he could pick out a hand moving some of the rocks. Gradually, George’s head emerged from the debris. He was bleeding slightly from a cut above his eye, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. He continued to push the rocks away until he could stand. He looked around the room, stunned. The dust was beginning to settle, and Harry noticed several shapes huddled against the wall at the same time George did.

"Fred! Ginny!" George called, leaping over rocks and debris to reach his siblings. Fred had curled his body over Ginny’s in an attempt to shield her from the falling rocks. George rolled Fred’s head back and slapped his cheek several times. As Fred began to stir, he repeated the procedure on Ginny.

Ginny groaned and slapped George’s hand away. "Gerroff," she mumbled groggily. The wounds on her arm looked raw and painful.

Harry’s body sagged in relief when he heard her voice. Ginny is alive!

"Are you both all right?" George asked, his voice sounding panicked.

Fred groaned. "Yeah, my leg is still a bit stiff, but I’m okay. Ginny?"

Ginny shook her head and pulled herself to a seated position. Her eyes went wide as memory flooded back. "Harry!" she gasped, staring at the spot where she’d last seen him.

Harry placed his hand on the mirror, desperately wanting to touch her and reassure himself that she was indeed real.

"Haven’t found him yet," George said, scanning the room. "I can’t see a bloody thing with all this smoke." The panic sounded foreign and out-of-place in George’s usual jovial voice.

"What about Ron?" Ginny asked tearfully. "Lucius Malfoy stabbed him."

Harry started. He felt a wave of white hot anger rise in his chest as he remembered Ron being struck down. And it was Ginny who finally killed Malfoy… Now she would have to live with that, too. Damn. I’m sorry, Ginny.

"I don’t know," George said, running a hand through his hair and looking despairingly at the mess surrounding them.

The sound of moving rocks caught their attention as Percy’s head peeked out from the rubble. He coughed, and George sprinted towards him to help remove the boulder that was pinning him to the floor.

Percy was pale and slightly disoriented; George had trouble getting him to focus. "Take a minute, Percy. You’re going to be okay; it’s over."

Ginny pulled away from Fred and scrambled over the rocks to where she’d last seen Harry. She started frantically clawing at them and tossing stones aside. She cradled her wounded arm tightly to her body as she worked.

"Ginny!" Fred yelled. "Stop. If he’s under there, you might cave more rocks in on him."

"We have to find him," she cried, her tears making clean streaks along her grimy face. "He’s hurt; I hurt him."

"No, Ginny," Harry said, his heart breaking. "That wasn’t you…it was him." Sirius grasped Harry’s shoulder firmly, but said nothing.

"It’s not your fault, Ginny. Don’t beat yourself up right now; we have to get everyone and get out of here," George said.

"Ron and Harry left their brooms by the pipe that leads up to Myrtle’s bathroom," Fred said, limping towards the area where they’d last seen Ron and Hermione. "As Mad Eye would say – Constant Vigilance. Narcissa and Bellatrix are under here somewhere, too, and they were still alive when the Chamber collapsed."

Ginny sniffled, but took a deep breath and pulled herself together.

George had freed Percy and was tentatively feeling around the rocks. "Neville was over here somewhere, too, with that bitch Lestrange."

Ginny whimpered as she looked around helplessly. "How are we going to find them in this mess? It’s so dark I can barely see what’s right in front of my face."

"Lumos," George said, lighting his wand. He felt along the wall until he found one of the torches that had been snuffed out in the blast. "Incendio."

Light blazed from the single torch, illuminating the small area round them.

"Good idea," Fred said, moving back and searching for another torch. Fred and George each found another torch and lit them. When the torches were lit, they all stopped – awestruck for a moment at the destruction – before returning to the task at hand.

"What happened here?" Percy asked, shaking his head as if trying to clear the fog.

"I think it was You-Know-Who’s life force draining after Harry killed him. He fought death to the end," George said, using his wand to begin moving some heavy boulders around.

Harry flinched.

"Say Voldemort," Ginny growled. "Harry didn’t go through all that for you two to keep up that sodding You-Know-Who nonsense."

"You’re right," George said, nodding. "The Chamber started falling apart after V- Vo- Voldemort lost. I think I blacked out, and the next thing I knew…the Chamber looked like this. I’d bet the rest of the school suffered some damage, as well."

Ginny squinted her eyes and darted towards something. She moved several rocks with her wand before gasping. "It’s Hermione."

Percy, Fred and George all helped her to clear out both Hermione and Ron, who were lying next to one another. Ron was deathly pale, and his robes were drenched in blood. The pressure from the fallen rocks appeared to have slowed the flow for a while, but after they removed them, Ron began bleeding heavily again.

Harry gasped when he saw him, biting hard on his lip to keep from crying out his dismay.

"Ennervate," Percy said, aiming his wand at Hermione.

She was covered with cuts and bruises, but her eyes cleared very quickly. "Ron," she said weakly, struggling to pull herself into a seated position. Fred helped her to rise.

Ginny pulled off her robes and pressed them to Ron’s wound, trying to slow the blood flow. "He needs help," she said, her voice sounding panicky. "Percy, do you know any healing charms?"

Percy blinked before shaking his head slowly, appearing young and very vulnerable. "No…I…I never learned any. The Ministry really should develop a standard curriculum for everyone to know…" he said, his voice trailing off.

Hermione pulled herself together and crawled over Ginny to get to Ron. "Ron," she called, slapping him on the face. "Listen to me, Ron. You hang in there. Don’t you dare give up on me, now – not when we’ve come this far. It’s almost over, Ron, and we’ve still got a lot of the good things left to do."

Harry’s heart lurched. She was right. For so long they’d all been focused on winning this war; Ron couldn’t leave them now that it was over and time to start living just for themselves.

Hermione leaned over and put her ear to Ron’s mouth. "He’s still breathing," she said, teardrops beginning to cut through the grime on her face. "We have to get him out of here. Which way is the entrance?"

"Hermione-" Fred tried.

"There’s not much time. There’s so much blood," she said shrilly. Her head whipped around frantically as she searched for a way out.

"Hermione," George said sharply, causing Hermione to flinch. "We have to stop his bleeding before we can move him. Do you know any healing charms?"

Having a specific task to do seemed to give Hermione the focus she needed. "Well, I’ve never actually done any of them…but I have read about them. Being friends with Harry, well, I thought it would be a good idea to know them," she said, picking her wand up off the floor. She began uttering several spells in quick succession, waving her wand in intricate patterns above Ron’s abdomen. The wound sealed itself back together, stopping his bleeding.

"You did it!" Ginny shouted.

"Well," Hermione said, blushing. "Madam Pomfrey will have to fix any internal damage, and I’m certain she’ll do a better job of repairing it…but that should hold for now.

Fred pulled Hermione into a fierce hug and exclaimed, "You’re brilliant."

"He’s not breathing," Percy shouted.

They all froze for a moment, staring at Ron’s pale face. Hermione jumped up and placed her mouth over Ron’s. She breathed heavily into Ron’s mouth before turning her head and counting. She repeated this procedure several times, while the Weasley siblings stared at her in confusion.

"What are you doing?" George asked incredulously.

Light dawned in Ginny’s eyes. "We learned about it in Muggle Studies," Ginny said. "It’s called CRP, and Muggles use it to get someone to start breathing after they’ve stopped. She’s breathing for him."

Harry held his own breath as he watched them.

"CPR," Hermione corrected automatically. "I think he’s breathing on his own now."

They all watched the slight movement of Ron’s chest and exhaled in relief.

A sudden ‘pop’ startled them all, and they turned to see Fawkes reappear with Professor Snape gripping his tail feathers. Harry remembered Fawkes being there when he’d cast the Curse of the Damned, but not when Lucius had attacked them.

Snape’s cold black eyes surveyed the scene without emotion.

Harry thought he’d never been so happy to see the greasy professor in his life.

"Where are Potter and the Dark Lord?" Snape demanded.

"Under all this mess," Fred snapped. "Help us clear some more of it out. Harry’s hurt pretty badly."

"He’s still alive?" Snape asked, his eyes flickering with an emotion Harry couldn’t name.

"Where’s Neville?" Hermione asked, glancing around the Chamber. She didn’t answer Snape’s question, and Harry suspected that she was afraid of the answer.

"We haven’t found him yet, either. He was over there somewhere," George replied, pointing.

Snape ignored them all and strode across the debris on the Chamber floor without difficulty. He knelt down beside Ron and Hermione and glanced at Ron’s wounds. "You healed him?" he said to Hermione; it wasn’t a question.

Hermione met his gaze unflinchingly. "I did."

"You most likely saved his life," he replied, pulling an empty phial from his robes. "Hold onto this and keep a hand on Mr. Weasley. It’s a portkey that will take you directly to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey is awaiting the injured."

Hermione took the proffered phial, and she and Ron disappeared instantly.

"How did you get here?" George demanded.

"When I realized that the Dark Lord wasn’t in Hogsmeade with the other Death Eaters, I began to suspect something," Snape said, sneering. "The attack on Hogsmeade was sporadic and poorly planned. Minerva had things well under control, and I didn’t think Potter would be able to keep himself out of the spotlight on his own. So, I began heading back towards the castle.

"That’s where Fawkes found me, and I knew we’d been misled. I gathered a few healing potions and let Fawkes take me to you. You said Potter is hurt?"

George nodded. "He killed V- V-Voldemort."

Harry flinched again, and Sirius eyed him cautiously.

"Don’t utter that name in my presence," Snape hissed, rubbing his forearm as if in pain.

"You knew something happened to Voldemort," Ginny said, her eyes narrowing accusingly. "Your Dark Mark must have bled the same way the others’ did."

"Yes," Snape replied coolly. "So it did. Where are they?"

"Over here somewhere," Fred replied, throwing both arms up in the general direction he’d been searching.

"Miss Weasley, your arm is wounded. Take this phial, and it will transport you to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey can heal it," Snape said in a voice that almost sounded concerned.

"No," Ginny said. "She’s tending to Ron right now, and I’m not leaving until I see Harry. He has to be all right." She stared around at the massive mess, looking very frightened and alone.

Harry smiled sadly, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.

George wrapped his arm around her and squeezed gently. "Hang in there, Ginny. Harry’s tough; you saw that. We’ll find him."

Ginny sniffled, tears leaking from her eyes once again. "He’s been through so much. He’s got to be all right now that it’s over. It would be so unfair for him not to be."

No one answered, but instead began sifting through the rubble. Harry felt that annoying lump form in his throat again. He could feel the concern for him coming from the Chamber, and it touched him deeply.

Fawkes flew gracefully around the Chamber and landed in a spot near Percy, fluttering his feathers imperiously. Percy stared at him a moment before beginning to clear the rocks beneath the phoenix.

"Here," Percy called at last. The others moved towards him and dug around the area where Harry, Lucius, and what was left of Voldemort lay.

"Move aside," Snape ordered, briskly moving towards Harry’s body and uncorking several phials of various potions. He roughly pushed Lucius’s body aside and began forcing the potions down Harry’s throat. George dragged Lucius Malfoy away and threw him aside with disgust.

Harry stared at the scene with mild detachment. He didn’t even recognize the person that Snape was tending as himself. The lump was barely recognizable as a person, never mind his own body. He glanced at Sirius and noted the pained expression on his godfather’s face. It was that, coupled with the sound of Ginny’s sobs, that caused him to turn away from the mirror, not wanting to see any more.

Ginny’s cries continued, and Harry felt as if his heart was being torn from his chest. Shaking his head as he fought an internal battle, he spun back around to watch again. Sirius still said nothing.

Snape worked furiously, his face twisted into a sneer as he examined all the wounds on Harry’s body. "Come on, Potter. I have no intention of letting you die and having you become some kind of martyr. Merlin knows they’ll be toasting your name in pubs all across Britain, never mind if the incipient fools believe you died for them. Oh, no, Potter. You’re going to live in order to one day prove to them their how misguided their hero worship is. I have limited faith in the intelligence of the wizarding world that has foolishly fawned over you for sixteen years; however, I have even less faith that you’ll be able to keep their adoration. You’re not that smart."

Harry saw Ginny’s face darken, but George held her back.

"Ignore him," George whispered. "He’s helping Harry now; you can hex him later."

A great rumbling sound was heard from behind them, and they all spun around to see Hagrid’s huge form moving rocks and boulders aside with his bare hands to reach them. He had Ron and Harry’s brooms strapped to his back. His eyes flew open wide when he saw them all standing there.

"Where’s ‘arry?" Hagrid demanded. "Professor McGonagall reckoned it were a trap, and I hightailed it back ter the castle. When I saw them words on the wall, I jes’ knew. I jes’ knew. Is ‘e all right?"

The half giant’s lower lip trembled, and he appeared almost meek as he stared at Harry’s still form.

"I’ve done all I can do here," Snape said, speaking directly to Hagrid. "I don’t think even Poppy will be able to help. He needs to go to St. Mungo’s. He’s stable enough to use a portkey to the hospital wing. Can you take him?"

Hagrid nodded and moved next to Harry. With all the gentleness of a mother lifting a new baby, he picked up Harry’s limp and broken body and cradled him gently in his arms. For the second time in Harry’s young life, Hagrid carried him out of the wreckage. "Aw, ‘arry. What have we done ter yeh?" he whispered loudly enough for them all to hear.

"Hold onto this," Snape said, handing Hagrid the phial and ignoring his emotional display completely.

"I’m going with you," Ginny yelped, moving next to Hagrid and gently running her hand through Harry’s blood-matted hair.

Snape nodded. "I need the rest of you to help me find Longbottom and the other Death Eaters. How many of them were there?"

As Hagrid and Ginny were sped away with Harry’s physical body, Harry again turned away from the mirror.

"Am I dead, Sirius?" he asked quietly. Why else would he be here, watching this happen as if it were happening to someone else?

Sirius turned and studied him quietly for a few moments. "No, kiddo, you’re not dead – but you’re not really alive, either. This place…this room…is neither here nor there. You’ve been given the chance to decide which way you’ll go. There aren’t many who are given that choice, so you’ll have to really think about it before you answer."

Harry started to interrupt, but Sirius held up his hand. "Let me finish. Once you speak, the decision is final and irreversible, so you’ll have to take your time. Lily and James have been dead much longer than I, so it’ll take them longer to arrive here, but they want to see you before you make your decision."

"I want to see them, too," Harry whispered, stunned. "Why me? Why have I been given the choice?"

"I can’t answer that…it certainly didn’t happen to me," Sirius said, somehow smiling and scowling at the same time. "One minute I was battling with that slag of a cousin of mine, the next minute I was staring into your father’s incredulous face. He gave me quite a tongue-lashing for leaving you there, by the way, not to mention what Lily had to say. No one has ever been really told off until they’ve been told off by Lily Potter. Then again, that was nothing compared to what she had to say to your aunt and uncle when they arrived."

"The Dursleys are here?" Harry asked curiously.

"They’re around in certain places. Where you are allowed to go depends upon the life you led. The Dursleys have to pay a lot of penance. James’s new hobby is to play a prank on your uncle at least once a day. Lily doesn’t even scold him for it."

Harry smiled wistfully. "What about Professor Dumbledore? Have you seen him?"

"I have, although only briefly. He’s caused quite a stir since he arrived. He and that mate of his – Nicholas Flamel – they’ve put the Marauders to shame with their shenanigans. He’s acting like a little kid let loose in Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes," Sirius grumbled, obviously both envious and impressed.

Harry grinned, and the pain within his heart eased slightly. "I’d like to see that," he said quietly.

Sirius grimaced and turned away. Looking through the mirror, he said, "The Weasleys, Remus, and Hermione all love you like family, too, Harry."

"I know…but it’s not the same. If I chose to stay…would I be with you and my parents?" Harry asked. The temptation of the offer had an overwhelming pull, and yet…how could he just leave all the others?

"I’m not the one to make those decisions, but I would assume so. It’s not quite the same, however. It’s more the essence of you than your physical self, and you’re allowed to watch what’s happening in the mortal world, but you’re never able to help or interfere. It can be downright infuriating at times," Sirius said honestly.

Harry thought for a moment, not knowing if he could stand being unable to help Ginny or Ron or Hermione if they needed him.

"Come look at them, Harry. They’re so worried about you," Sirius said, beckoning him back towards the mirror.

Harry shuffled his feet along the floor as he forced himself to look. He could see the flurry of activity in the hospital wing. All the beds were filled with the people who had been with him in the Chamber, plus some others that Harry assumed came from the attack on Hogsmeade. His own body lay in the bed at the end – his own bed – the one with his name on it.

"How did they all get there so fast?" he asked.

"Time has no meaning here, Harry. You’re looking at the moment that you need to see," Sirius answered, and Harry wasn’t wholly satisfied with that answer but sudden movement caught his attention. There was a flurry of activity around the bed where his body lay. Madam Pomfrey – looking more stressed and harried than Harry had ever seen her – rushed from her supply cupboard to his bed with alarming frequency.

Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Remus, and Tonks all hovered around his bed, as well. Hagrid’s shoulders were shaking, and he kept blowing his nose into a handkerchief the size of a baby’s blanket. Remus ran a hand through Harry’s messy hair, gently avoiding all the burns still marring his face. Remus wore a cloak, leading Harry to believe that he had only recently arrived.

Tonks’s eyes were red rimmed as she picked idly at the sheets covering Harry. Remus covered her hand with his own, stilling her nervousness.

Ginny lay with her eyes closed in the bed next to his. She was exceedingly pale, and her brow was deeply furrowed. The burns on her arm were covered in a jelly-like substance and looked much better than they had in the Chamber. She tossed her head from side to side, muttering incoherently in her sleep.

Harry’s heart lurched painfully. Ginny…his Ginny. He didn’t like to see her looking so distressed. Why hadn’t she been given a Dreamless Sleep Potion? After all that she’d been through, she needed to rest.

In the bed next to hers lay Ron, looking so pale that his freckles appeared angry and dark on his face. Hermione sat on a chair next to his bed, her head pillowed in her arms on Ron’s bed, snuggled right up next to him. There were a large number of potion phials on his bedside table – some empty, some full.

"Will he be all right?" Harry asked, alarmed.

Sirius smiled wryly. "Being dead doesn’t mean you get all the answers, Harry. I only know what I see, same as you."

Harry was in no mood to joke, and that answer wasn’t good enough. He wanted – no, he needed – to know how Ron was and if he was going to be all right.

Fred lay in the next bed while George and Percy sat in chairs on either side of him, all sleeping soundly. Across the infirmary from Fred slept Neville. He looked very still and sickly. Professor Sprout sat next to him, gently swabbing his face with a damp cloth.

"There is nothing more I can do for him, Minerva," Madam Pomfrey said, raising her hands in the air and staring hopelessly at Harry. "His wounds are more extensive than I can heal here alone. He has to go to St. Mungo’s. It’ll be quieter there for him, anyway. I already had to sedate all those Weasleys just so I could tend to him in peace."

Professor McGonagall sighed heavily. "All right, Poppy, if you insist there is no other way. I’m concerned about security at St. Mungo’s. It’ll be so much harder to protect him there."

"Certainly now that You-Know-Who is dead, ‘arry don’t need all that protectin’," Hagrid said, sniffling loudly.

"He needs it even more right now, Hagrid," Remus said, sagging against Tonks. "Every witch and wizard in Britain is celebrating his name. They’ll be all over him – along with the press – when they find out where he is. He’s much safer here at Hogwarts. It’s not only easier to protect him from the remaining Death Eaters who want to punish him and make a name for themselves, but also from the general population who just want to get near him."

"But ‘e’s ‘urt," Hagrid roared.

Harry felt sick. People were celebrating the fact that he’d killed – that he’d taken another life. Although he felt no sorrow that Voldemort was gone, he thought that if one person actually congratulated him for killing he’d throw up.

"I’ll go with him," Tonks said. "He needs an Auror guard approved by Moody both inside and outside his room until we can run a security check on the Healers who are tending him. It should be much easier to arrange a guard now that Minister Bones is in charge."

"She wants to speak with Harry when he’s able, as well," Professor McGonagall said.

"She’ll have to stand in line," Remus said with a scowl. "Where did Severus take Voldemort’s remains?"

"He’s delivering them to the Ministry, along with the other Death Eaters who were captured. Only Bellatrix Lestrange was sent to St. Mungo’s, under heavy Auror guard," Professor McGonagall answered.

"Why? What happened to her? She can’t be trusted," Remus said in alarm.

"Take it easy, Remus; she’s not going to hurt anyone now," Professor McGonagall said with a distinctly victorious glint in her eye.

"Why?"

"Apparently, when Mr. Potter was dueling Voldemort, she was engaged in battle with Mr. Longbottom. She cast the Cruciatus and left him under the spell for an extremely long time. We’re still uncertain if Mr. Longbottom will ever recover. We’re planning to send him into St. Mungo’s, as well. Anyway, when V-Voldemort was killed, his life force expelled a powerful backlash – that’s what caused all the damage to the school. Evidently, Mr. Longbottom pushed Bellatrix Lestrange into that force. Her magic was caught up in the drain, as well. She’s been left as powerless as a Squib."

Remus blinked several times without responding. Finally, he turned to see a slow grin forming on Tonks’s face. "Poetic, isn’t it?" she said, cheerfully.

Remus sighed heavily. "It will be if Neville is all right."

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. Neville had been hit with the Cruciatus and might be doomed to the same fate as his parents? It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. Professor McGonagall had also said something about damage to Hogwarts. What damage to Hogwarts? Harry needed more answers.

Madam Pomfrey returned from her office. "All right, I’ve just spoken with a Healer McBride, and she’s expecting both of them at St. Mungo’s. She’s arranging tight security on Mr. Potter’s room, but I told her there would be several people accompanying him, anyway. You all simply have to stay out of the way while they tend him, however."

Hagrid reached down and once again scooped Harry into his massive arms. Remus looked up questioningly.

"I’m stayin’ with ‘im," Hagrid said firmly.

Remus nodded and followed Hagrid and Tonks to Neville’s bed. Madam Pomfrey handed them a portkey, and they vanished without waking any of the Weasleys.

Harry turned away from the mirror, his heart racing, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. His friends were all alive, that was at least something.

"What happened to Hogwarts?" he asked.

"I don’t know. I only know what we saw, Harry," Sirius replied.

"They’re celebrating," Harry said dully.

"Of course they are. The war is finally over; it’s human nature. They’ve been under Voldemort’s reign for a long time, and they’ve been scared. You can’t expect them not to celebrate that."

"They’re going to make me out as some kind of hero – again," Harry said with a scowl. He’d known in the back of his mind that it would happen, but he’d tried to block it out. Now, the idea of anyone congratulating him for what he’d done turned his stomach. He just wanted it to be over. He’d done his part; wouldn’t they ever leave him alone?

"Probably," Sirius said, shrugging.

"I hate this."

"I know."

"Harry," said a woman’s voice from behind him.

Harry turned and for the first time in his life that he could remember, he stared at his parents’ faces. Lily’s eyes – eyes that looked just the same as his own – filled with tears as she gazed upon him. Her hair was swept back off her face and secured loosely behind her head. She wore robes of deep emerald green that highlighted the color in her eyes.

James was dressed in bright red robes lined with gold – Gryffindor colors. His face was a mirror of Harry’s own, and he beamed at his son as if Harry had just won the Quidditch World Cup. It was only then that Harry realized that his parents and Sirius were all in color. Harry was dressed all in white – bland – like the room they were all standing in.

"Mum, Dad," Harry choked out.

"Oh, Harry," Lily cried, moving towards him. She stopped directly in front of him and stared intently at his face, as if studying every detail.

Harry tentatively reached up to touch her, half afraid that this was all his imagination. His slight movement was all she needed; she flung herself into his arms and squeezed him for all his worth – just like Mrs. Weasley always did.

"Budge over, Lily. Don’t squash him before I even get a good look at him," James said, gently pulling her shoulders back.

"You’re so grown up," she cried. "What happened to my baby?"

Harry wasn’t certain how he was supposed to respond. He felt kind of numb. He’d wished all his life to have his parents back, and now that they were here in front of him, he had absolutely no idea what to say.

"You know what happened, Lily. We watched you grow up, Harry; we’ve watched you all along," James said gruffly. "I’m sorry I disappointed you."

This jolted Harry back to reality. "No! I’m not disappointed in you; I…" Harry didn’t know what to say. He had been disappointed in James, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love him. He didn’t want to spend this time dwelling on that now, anyway. That’s my dad!

"I did, and I know it. We all make stupid decisions when we’re young, but I never meant for my swottiness to cause you such pain. I can’t believe Severus is still holding such a grudge for something that happened a lifetime ago," James said, color rising in his cheeks.

"Not again with Severus, James," Lily said, sighing with the air of one who’d been through this argument many times before. "The both of you are impossible."

"I’m not nearly as bad as him," James said indignantly. "Oh, by the way, Harry, that sketch you have of your mum? Snape drew it, way back in third year. Lily thought it would make me angry, so she gave it to her parents."

"You knew?" Lily gasped, stomping her foot. "My parents liked it, so I gave it to them. It had nothing to do with you, James Potter."

"Sure it didn’t," James replied, grinning. Lily swatted him on the arm.

"Harry, what I regret most is not having a will clearly stating that you were never to go to Petunia." Lily’s eyes again filled with tears, and she pulled him into another embrace. Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around her and patted her back.

"It’s all right. It’s over now," he said, desperately battling to hold his own composure. He bit his lip hard. He was finally meeting his parents; he wasn’t going to start blubbering in front of them.

"It’s not all right. It was never all right, but I’ve let both Petunia and Albus know exactly what I think of the decisions made on your behalf. I only wish I could have done something when you were little. It nearly killed me to watch the way they treated you. You deserved so much more than that," Lily said, smoothing the hair around his face.

Harry leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing himself to simply enjoy it. After a moment, he pulled away, knowing that if he didn’t, his decision would already be made.

"I want you to know how proud we are of you – how proud we’ve always been. Even when you were just a little thing, you were such a fighter. I’ve been so amazed by your resilience," Lily said sadly

"You have some wonderful friends, Harry," James said. He’d yet to remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder, but Harry didn’t mind. He was grateful to his dad for steering his mum away from the topic of the Dursleys. "You can tell a lot about a man by the friends he keeps. Your friends are all a credit to you."

Harry smiled shyly. "They are a good lot."

"We’re very fond of your Ginny, too," Lily said, causing Harry to blush. "She’s been good for you."

"And easy on the eyes," said James.

Lily slapped him on his arm. "Dirty old man."

James grinned and kissed her on the cheek. She scowled, but Harry could see laughter brimming in her eyes. He could finally see the love between his parents that everyone had told him about. It was like a physical thing. They so obviously adored one another it was practically written on their faces. Harry beamed at them.

"Harry," Lily said, sobering. "I’ve talked a bit with Dudley since he’s been here."

Harry’s head snapped up. It had been some time since he’d thought of Dudley, and he couldn’t help the tiny constriction he felt in his heart that his cousin – the cousin that had always had everything – got to spend time with his mum, as well. He wasn’t proud of himself for it – Dudley was dead, after all – but it was there, nonetheless.

"Oh," Harry said tonelessly.

Some of his feelings must have shown on his face, for Lily caressed it tenderly. "I’ve tried to show both him and his mother how Petunia should have treated you. My differences with Petunia have nothing to do with Dudley.

"He was sincere before he died, Harry. He was beginning to see you in a new light and realized that maybe he was the one who’d been wrong. I wish you’d had the chance to really get to know each other. He was very touched that you thought of making certain that someone told Veronica about his death."

Harry swallowed heavily, keeping his eyes on the floor. "If I stay here…will I be able to talk with you, too?"

"Oh, sweetheart. You can always talk to me in your heart, and I’ll always hear you. I always have," Lily cried, continuing to caress his cheek

"But…so that I can hear and see you, too?" Harry asked, unable to hide the vulnerability in his voice.

"Yes, Harry. If you stay, we’ll be able to be together. And even though there is nothing that I’ve ever wanted more than to have been there to raise you, the past cannot be changed. Our time was in the past; your future is there," Lily said, pointing towards the mirror. "You and Ginny have a life to build together. I willingly sacrificed my own life so that you could live. That damned prophecy never allowed you to do that, but you can now, and that is what I want for you. I want you to live."

Tears streaked down Lily’s face as she spoke, but Harry couldn’t help but feel that it was yet another rejection. She didn’t want him here.

"Oh, Harry. I do want you," Lily cried, reading his thoughts. "More than you’ll ever know. But…even though your life wasn’t what we’d hoped it would be up until now, you’ve finally got the chance to be happy. We want you to take that chance, Harry. The best thing you can ever do for us is to live happily."

"She’s right, Harry. Our time is past; yours is yet to come. No more guilt or grief – we want you to enjoy your life. You finally get to really live," James said, his voice cracking on the last word.

"It’s not your time yet, Harry," Sirius said quietly, as if it were costing him something to admit what he knew in his heart was best for Harry. "You’re supposed to arrive here after a full and happy life. You haven’t lived yet."

Harry raised his eyes to his godfather’s careworn face and felt his heart being torn in two. Here it was – the chance he’d always wanted. He could be with his parents, he could have Sirius back – but he’d have to give up Ginny, Ron, and Hermione to do it. He and Ginny had a lot of dreams to explore. He was free; he could buy that home on the beach and do nothing but take long walks in the surf for a while, if that’s what he wanted. He could finally offer her anything her heart desired…but only if he chose to live.

"Come over here, Harry," Sirius said, moving again towards the mirror. "Take a look – they’re all waiting for you."

Harry peered into the mirror. He could see a room that he didn’t recognize, but it was unmistakably a hospital room. He supposed it was St. Mungo’s. If the condition his body was in was any indication, he was still in bad shape. His face was covered with bandages and bits of gauze, and he lay unmoving on the bed. He was ghostly pale, and his scar showed vivid red against the white of his skin. He could see dark bruises on his chest and shoulders where they showed above the bedclothes.

Ginny and one of the twins – George, he thought – sat by his side, while Abe stood by the door. Ginny held his hand and gently ran her fingers through his hair. She was pale, but her wounds appeared to be healed, and he wondered how much time had passed. Her eyes looked haunted and full of pain, and he found himself turning away from the sadness he saw there.

"He looks better today," George said.

Harry wondered how bad it had been if this was better.

Ginny’s eyes roamed over Harry’s sleeping body. "His magic levels are still so low that they’re afraid to do too much. All of his reserves are still going into healing the wound from the Killing Curse. Healer McBride still can’t understand how he survived, and she said he’ll always have the scar."

"Harry’s used to scars," George replied.

"Yeah. I just wish he’d give us some sign that he’s in there, that he’ll come back to us," Ginny whispered, blinking back tears.

"He will, Ginny. He’s Harry. If anyone can survive, he can," George said.

"We’ve come so close to losing him so many times already, and he’s tired," Ginny said, rubbing her own eyes.

"Of course he is," Abe said from the doorway, "and he’s got a right to be, but he’ll come back for you, Ginny. I can’t see anything strong enough to keep him away."

"What are you doing here, Abe? I thought Harry was supposed to have an Auror guard at all times?" George asked.

Abe scowled and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I’m covering while they deal with the press. A bunch of them wormed their way in here again this morning, so Tonks hauled them in and is pressing charges."

"Oh, no. Please don’t tell me there are any more pictures," Ginny cried.

"Dunno," Abe replied, shrugging. "She confiscated all their equipment, and you know Tonks – she even broke some of it in the process, so hopefully no more pictures will leak."

"Damn it, why won’t they leave him alone? Hasn’t he done enough?" Ginny snarled.

"It’s that blasted Skeeter article," George said, and Harry wondered what they were talking about.

"If I ever get my hands on that woman-" began Ginny.

"Hermione is writing a letter to Madam Bones revealing that she’s an unregistered Animagus, so hopefully she’ll get what’s coming to her. Fred and I had a package delivered to her. That bug is in for a nice little surprise," George said smugly.

As George spoke, Harry heard a distinct buzzing sound within the room. Glancing around wildly, he noticed a beetle sitting unobserved on the windowsill. None of the others appeared to see it

"Why? What did you do?" Ginny asked.

"Let’s just say that the next time she turns into a bug, she’s not going to like the results when she turns back and her true nature is revealed for all to see," George replied, grinning evilly.

"What are you talking about?" Abe asked with a grin.

At that moment, as if she couldn’t stand the suspense, Rita Skeeter transformed herself back into a human right there in the room. Only, instead of her usual appearance, her large bug eyes remained, along with antennae on her head, and her lips continued to twitch in a distinctly bug-like fashion. Harry noticed that her face was devoid of all make-up and her clothes were unkempt and disheveled.

"You," Ginny hissed.

"What have you done to me?" Rita shrieked, and her voice echoed oddly. She sounded exactly like Harry assumed a bug would sound if a bug could talk. He grinned widely; Fred and George ruled.

"How dare you write all those horrid lies about Harry? He just saved your bony arse and let you keep the freedom to print the horrible, twisted lies you continue to spread," Ginny snarled.

"I write what sells, missy. Are you denying that his power is greater than the Dark Lord’s? Or that he used a branch of obscure magic to defeat him? Maybe we’d all simply be better off if he never awoke from that coma," Rita said, her Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously.

Although he detested her, Harry had to admit that she had a point. It was what he was considering, anyway. Maybe they’d all be better off if it was just over. He didn’t have a moment even to reflect on her words, however, before Ginny walked right over to Rita and slammed a powerful right hook into the woman’s jaw. Rita spun backwards and fell to the floor, clutching her bleeding lip.

"Ha, Ha!" Sirius cackled. "That girl’s got spunk."

"And a mean punch. Watch out for her, Harry. Where did she learn to do that?" James asked, impressed.

"She’s got six older brothers," Sirius said, as if it were obvious. "Of course she knows how to throw a punch."

"Nice one, Ginny," Abe said with delight. "Maybe I should have used you as Harry’s sparring partner."

"Get out," Ginny hissed at Rita. "Get out and don’t let me ever see you near him again."

"I’ll take her," George said with delight. "There are still a group of reporters being held back outside, and I’m certain they’d love to get some pictures of a bruised and un-painted Rita Skeeter. Excellent job, Ginny. You even remembered to keep your thumb out over your fingers."

"You can’t let me be seen like this," Rita cried in dismay.

"I certainly can. Watch me." George said as he dragged Rita from the room.

Ginny turned back towards Harry, looking sad and remorseful once again.

"What’s troubling you, lass?" Abe asked kindly.

Ginny shrugged. "It’s my fault he’s like this."

"It’s not your fault, Ginny. Don’t let him destroy you now. You fought off an Imperius Curse cast by the Dark Tosser himself. There aren’t many who can claim something like that."

"I wasn’t quick enough, though," Ginny said sadly.

"The burns are mostly healed, Ginny. It’s the wound from the Killing Curse that’s causing his trouble now. He’s going to need you when he wakes up; don’t give into these feelings," Abe said.

"Somehow, I thought that when Riddle was finally defeated that everything would be okay, that all the Dementors would be destroyed and anyone they harmed would get their souls back. I thought that Neville’s parents would be okay, and that Remus would no longer be a werewolf, but none of that happened," Ginny said, swiping at the tears that fell quickly down her cheeks and splattered on Harry’s still hand.

"That’s a nice dream, Ginny, but it’s not realistic. This is real life, and the hero does get hurt, and not everyone survives. But we did. We survived, and we have to celebrate that," Abe said gently.

Ginny nodded slowly. "I suppose. I just want him to wake up, and I hope that he’ll forgive me."

Harry turned away from the mirror, tears glistening in his eyes. He knew what he had to do. It was simple, really. His parents and Sirius were his past, they’d always be a part of him, but Ginny was his future. He loved her, and he wanted that life with her. He could see that she was being consumed with guilt, and he knew what that was like. He also knew that he was the only one who could offer her the forgiveness she needed. If he died, a part of Ginny would die with him, and he couldn’t have that.

He knew what it felt like to be left behind, and he would never let her feel like that, if he could help it. He swallowed painfully. His decision made, it was time for the hardest part – saying goodbye.

Tentatively, he raised his eyes to his family and was surprised to see nothing but understanding and happiness there.

"Go and live, Harry," James said warmly, pulling his son into a hug. "Finish school, have some fun, then get a job playing Quidditch for a living. Don’t let that opportunity pass you by. Imagine, getting to play a sport you love and calling it a job? Leave it to my son to do that. You owe them nothing. Have fun and drink some FireWhiskey while you’re at it."

"Yeah, you really have to build up your tolerance for the alcohol, kiddo," Sirius said, grinning. "You’re kind of pathetic."

Harry laughed through his tears as he gave his godfather a fond embrace.

"He’s had enough FireWhiskey already," Lily’s stern voice interrupted them. "I know the age of majority in the wizarding world is seventeen, but I still think it’s much too young. The Muggles at least wait until eighteen, so he’d be out of school. My goodness, you gave me such a start when you went into the ocean in that condition, Harry James. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

Harry grinned, thinking his mother sounded remarkably like Mrs. Weasley when she was upset – but Harry didn’t mind her scolding him at all.

"Oh, Lily. You’re forgetting what we got up to at that age. Enjoy yourself, Harry, then get married and have loads of babies," James said, causing Harry to blush scarlet. "Be certain to name at least one of them after me."

"And one after me, too," Sirius said.

"Stop. Leave him alone," Lily chided, pushing James and Sirius out of the way. She took Harry into her own arms and gave him a long, motherly embrace. "Although…a granddaughter with my name would be kind of nice."

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. "I love you all," he whispered.

"We love you, too, son," James said, clearing his throat.

"And we’re always here, Harry, in your heart. Close your eyes and think of us, and you can feel us there," Lily said, tears running freely down her face. "Harry, that sketch that Severus did…it was never animated, but it was done in magical ink originally. If you bring it to a professional, he could activate it."

"So…I could still talk with you?" Harry asked, scarcely daring to believe it.

"Well – you know how the portraits work – it will have my personality, but it won’t exactly be me. Still, it will answer your questions as I would have loved to have done."

Harry nodded and swallowed painfully. "Tell Dudley…tell him we’re okay," he said.

Lily nodded and kissed his cheek.

"How do I get back?" Harry asked.

Sirius smiled and ruffled the hair on Harry’s head one more time. "Just state your intentions, kiddo."

Harry nodded, shut his eyes, and said, "I want to live."

Harry could hear voices – soft, whispering voices – before he could find the energy to open his eyes.

"How was practice?" Hermione asked. She sounded distracted, as if she’d been reading. "How did you feel in the air? You didn’t strain yourself, did you?"

"It was okay," Ron replied. "I felt good to be moving, actually. It’s just not the same without Harry there. I can’t keep my mind on the plays."

"How is he?" Ginny asked.

"The same," Hermione said, sighing.

Harry groaned and turned his head slightly toward their voices. His body hurt. He had a sharp, searing pain going up and down his entire side, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. He’d known it was going to hurt if he went back, but this was ridiculous.

"Harry?" Hermione’s shrill voice nearly pierced his eardrums. "Harry, can you hear me?"

"I think he’s waking up," Ron said excitedly.

Harry’s eyelids gradually fluttered open. He had no energy at all, and the lights hurt his eyes, causing him to squint. He blearily looked around and recognized the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Ron’s and Hermione’s concerned faces hovered just above him, and both of them beamed when his eyes focused on them.

Ginny stood by the end of his bed. Tears of relief glistened in her eyes, but she didn’t speak or reach out to touch him. She looked terribly wan and pale, as if she hadn’t slept in days. He wanted to call to her, reach out and take her hand, but his body felt so weak that it was an effort to merely keep his eyes open. Ginny.

"Ron, get Madam Pomfrey," Hermione demanded. "It’s okay, Harry. You’re in the hospital wing; we brought you back from St. Mungo’s a few days ago. You’re probably feeling sore and uncomfortable. That’s normal, because…"

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut again as he drifted off to sleep listening to Hermione prattle. He’d have to wait and talk to them later…

Harry awoke several more times over the next few days, and each time his eyes fluttered open he found different people clustered around his bed. Either Ron or Hermione was always there, but he also saw Remus, Tonks, Hagrid, Abe, Cordelia, various Weasleys, and Professor McGonagall. The only person he hadn’t seen since initially waking up was Ginny. No one said anything about her absence, but he knew Ron had noticed his eyes searching the room and watching the door expectantly each time he was able to stay awake for more than a moment. He knew, because Ron averted his eyes whenever Harry did this.

At first, he’d asked for her, but the shifting eyes and stuttered responses that he received from everyone in the room worried him. The longer she stayed away, the more alarmed he became, and he eventually just stopped asking. A heavy, leaden weight filled his belly, and he found it a chore to care too much about anything.

Once, as he fluttered in between sleep and wakefulness, he could hear Ron’s and Hermione’s voices arguing about Ginny’s continued absence.

"We need to force her to at least show her face. He knows something is wrong," Ron said heatedly, and Harry knew by his tone that this wasn’t the first time this topic had been discussed.

"You can’t force her, Ron. She’s not ready. She’s dealing with a lot," Hermione said in exasperation.

"What about him? She’s hurting him by not being here," Ron said more loudly.

"Shh," Hermine hissed. "You’ll wake him. I don’t want to see him hurt any more than you do, but you know how stubborn they both can be. They’ll work it out on their own, Ron."

Harry wanted to stay still and listen, wondering what else they would say, but he couldn’t stop the slight hiss of breath that slipped between his teeth. It was time for more pain medication. Ron and Hermione stopped their rowing and immediately turned their attention to his discomfort.

As the days passed and he regained some strength, Hermione informed him that they’d brought him back from St. Mungo’s because of security issues. She said that they couldn’t keep the reporters – who were desperate for any piece of news about the savior of the wizarding world – out of his room. Apparently, one had taken a picture of him while he was unconscious, and it had been printed in papers all across Britain. Rita Skeeter had written a nasty article about how Harry had set himself up to be the next Dark Lord.

Hermione assured him that Rita had been dealt with and would no longer be a problem. Although Harry was aware of some of it, he couldn’t seem to raise the energy to care. He did have a stack of requests from various publications to weed through when he was feeling better.

Madam Pomfrey scolded him for reaching burnout levels again. She told him that the reason she was healing his other injuries so slowly was that most of his reserves were being used to mend the third degree burn left by the Killing Curse. Harry had yet another jagged, lightening bolt scar along his side.

"And I thought having that plaque placed above that bed had brought you some good luck," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "If I’d have known it would mean you’d eventually take up permanent residence, I never would have done it."

Harry could hear the warmth in her stern words, however, and often found her swiping his brow tenderly in the middle of the night.

She assured him that he’d make a full recovery, but it would take some time. She said he’d be allowed to ask for an extension in order to take his NEWTs, if he wished, due to extenuating circumstances. Harry declined the offer. He was stuck in bed, anyway, might as well use the time to revise for the exams. Besides, it gave him something to do to occupy his mind rather than dwell on the rest of his life. He knew he should be happy…but he wasn’t.

Hermione was – of course – delighted by his dedication to his studies. Ron looked at him as if he’d left his mind back in the Chamber. In fact, he’d distinctly heard Ron muttering something that sounded like "bloody mental" as he left the infirmary.

Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange had been sent to Azkaban, but a number of other Death Eaters were still at large, and several threats had been made on Harry’s life while he remained unconscious at St. Mungo’s. Aurors were working on rounding the Death Eaters up, but without a central base of operation where the Death Eaters were working, that task was proving difficult.

The wizarding world was still celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord. All-night parties had raged in the streets, and the Improper Use of Magic Department at the Ministry was having a devil of a time administering memory charms to Muggles who’d seen too much. Harry’s name was toasted everywhere, and they were calling him the Boy-Who-Lived – and Finally Conquered. Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance; that’s all he needed – another title.

"Of course they’re going to treat you like a hero, Harry," Hermione said practically. "You’re a young, good-looking wizard who they can actually see and touch. You’re the real thing, rather than something in a book. It’s only human nature."

Harry felt as if he’d done his part – now he just wanted everyone to leave him alone – and he sulkily told her so.

"Well, that’s just not going to happen, so you’re going to have to find a way to deal with it," Hermione answered firmly, leaving him disgruntled and irritated.

He’d asked about Neville, but had only been told that he was still at St. Mungo’s. Harry didn’t think there had been any change. He hadn’t told anyone of what had happened to him and meeting his family yet. Without Ginny there, it just didn’t seem right. Madam Bones had been requesting a formal meeting to discuss what had happened in the Chamber, but Harry kept pleading ill health when anyone brought it up. He simply didn’t want to talk about it, and they all knew it, but they were giving him the time he needed to heal.

No one had left Harry alone since he’d awoken in the hospital wing, and he often awoke from a nightmare to find one of his friends gently soothing the hair from his sweaty brow. While he appreciated their dedication, he longed for some space and privacy to think about everything that had happened to him – and he needed to figure out what to do about Ginny.

It was late at night, and all the candles in the hospital wing were dimmed low. Harry had been awake for his longest stretch yet and was feeling warm and drowsy. Madam Pomfrey had given him a potion to ease the pain, and it always left him slightly loopy. Ron sat on a chair by his bed, furiously scribbling an essay for a Transfiguration class the next morning.

"Scratch, scratch, scratch," said Harry, chuckling. Somehow, the noise of Ron’s quill on the parchment struck him as extremely funny.

Ron looked up with a frown. "What?"

"What?" Harry mimicked, laughing even harder.

Ron grinned. "Harry, you’ve gone ‘round the bend. Those pain potions are pretty good, aren’t they? I wonder if I could still get Madam Pomfrey to give me one?"

Harry laughed so hard that he ended up gasping from the pain that tore into his side.

"Easy, mate. You’re going to bust something open again, and I’ve seen enough of your insides to last a lifetime, thanks," Ron said. He was joking, but his eyes were painfully haunted.

Harry made inappropriate, sad, puppy-dog faces until Ron threw a pillow at him.

"Go to sleep, Harry. I have to finish this Transfiguration essay, or McGonagall will have my head."

"McGonagall, McGonagall, McGonagall," Harry said. He’d never realized how amusing her name sounded.

"Definitely some good potions in you, mate. Snape must still be on a high from getting out of spy duty," Ron muttered.

"Snape," Harry spat. "I don’t like that git."

Ron chuckled and heartily agreed. Harry’s mind began to drift over the mystery of Snape. He’d always hacked Harry off, but he had also pushed him to find the inner strength and power he needed to destroy Voldemort. Harry’s insides squirmed uncomfortably. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He was having trouble getting his mind to focus, and unwanted thoughts seemed to be pressing in on him from all angles, causing his breathing to become erratic.

He remained quiet for a few minutes, listening to the scratching of Ron’s quill. He didn’t find it all that funny anymore. "Ron," he whispered.

"Hmm?" Ron asked.

"Why won’t Ginny come?"

Ron froze and didn’t look up from the parchment. "Er…she’s been here, Harry. She even had a special portkey that let her go to St. Mungo’s when you were there."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "I never meant for any of it to happen," Harry whispered. "I never wanted her to get hurt."

Ron slammed down his quill and met Harry’s gaze directly. "Listen to me, Harry. None of this was your fault. Merlin, the two of you are so alike. She’s killing herself with guilt because of what Voldemort made her do. She says she can’t face you in so much pain. She’ll be here, Harry. I promise you she will."

The pain potion was messing with Harry’s head, because he was having trouble focusing on everything Ron was saying. All he knew for certain was that she wasn’t there. "I need her," he said quietly.

"I know, mate," Ron said, shutting his eyes with a grimace.

"All right, Mr. Weasley. It’s past curfew, and it’s time for you to go," Madam Pomfrey said, emerging from her office. "I’m on duty tonight, and I’ll keep an eye on him. Off you go."

Madam Pomfrey pushed Ron out of the infirmary and returned to her office. "I’m right in here if you need anything, Mr. Potter. Get some sleep."

Harry rolled over on his good side and shut his eyes. While the rest of the wizarding world continued to party and celebrate the second fall of the Dark Lord, its hero – the Boy-Who-Lived – the Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort – curled into a ball and cried himself to sleep.

Chapter Thirty-One: Dawn of a New Era

Ron Weasley left the hospital wing and stormed down the corridor. His long, angry strides brought him quickly to the staircase, and he sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time. This avoiding-Harry business of Ginny’s had gone on long enough. He didn’t care what Hermione said; Harry was hurting, and Ron wasn’t going to allow it to continue if he could do something about it. He had to knock some sense into his stubborn little sister; she was hurting both herself and Harry by hiding away.

Ginny had been through hell, and Ron knew it, but he also knew that the hell she was creating for herself now was worse and entirely unnecessary. Ironically, it was something Harry would do. Ginny’s guilt over what had happened in the Chamber was eating her alive, and Ron suspected that Harry was the only one who could actually make her feel better.

And Harry desperately needed Ginny right now. Ron suspected that once Ginny finally went to see him, Harry’s physical health would finally start to improve more quickly. It was over; Harry had done it. He was finally free, and, damn it, Ron was going to see to it that Harry would find the happiness that had eluded him for so long. He deserved it, he’d earned it, and he was going to get it – even if Ron had to knock both Harry and Ginny’s heads together to make them see it. Damn it, how could Hermione expect him to just stand back and watch them suffer?

As Ron hurried up the grand staircase, he had to stop twice to catch his breath. He still found himself short of breath when he exercised. Madam Pomfrey had said he’d probably experience it for some time. The blade from Lucius Malfoy’s sword has pierced his lung. Ron had no memory of anything after the elder Malfoy had stabbed him. He’d been in the Chamber one moment, and the next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital wing, feeling as if a herd of hippogriffs were sitting on his chest.

He’d awoken to find Hermione staring anxiously at him and firing off questions faster than he could process what she was saying – not that that was unusual for Hermione. When he’d stared at her in confusion, she’d promptly burst into tears. Fred had told him that Hermione had used some kind of Muggle breathing technique to breathe for him. Ron had no memory of it, but he wished that he did. He liked the idea of Hermione breathing for him; it connected them, somehow. He’d grinned smugly at Fred after he’d told him.

Madam Pomfrey kept him in hospital for several days after Harry had been transferred to St. Mungo’s. When he’d finally managed to convince her that he was healthy enough to leave, she’d warned him about the breathing difficulties. The final Quidditch match against Hufflepuff was fast approaching, and Ron worried that his health might keep him from playing.

He’d already resigned himself to the fact that Harry wouldn’t be able to play, and it hacked him off to no end. Voldemort’s final jab at Harry – ruin the last Quidditch game of his Hogwarts career. Ron was determined that Gryffindor would win for Harry. He deserved that.

Ron reached the portrait hole at last and barked the password at the Fat Lady. He climbed through and searched the crowded common room. Since Voldemort’s downfall, a party-like atmosphere had permeated the school. Even students revising for the upcoming NEWT and OWL exams were easily distracted. Students would randomly slap high-fives or embrace one another in the corridors. Everyone was high on simply living. The dazed expressions everyone wore at first had given way to joyful exuberance. It was only now – several weeks after the battle – that things were beginning to get back to normal. He knew that Professor McGonagall was growing frustrated with the lack of concentration among the students.

He spotted Ginny curled up in a corner away from most of the crowd in the common room. She was exceedingly pale and had deep purple circles underneath her eyes. She hadn’t looked well since they’d all come out of the Chamber, but Ginny had deteriorated even further since Harry had regained consciousness.

"Hey, Ginny," Ron said, plopping into the chair opposite her and fidgeting with the frayed edges of the armrest.

Ginny eyes flicked up briefly before returning to her page. "Hey, Ron," she said. Her voice was dull and listless, as if she really didn’t want to spare the energy to talk with him.

Ron ignored her hint. "What are you reading?" he asked with false cheeriness.

"Charms," Ginny replied. "Where’s Hermione?"

Ron knew she was trying to distract him, but it was the perfect opening he needed. "She’s on patrol. We split up our rounds so one of us could always stay with Harry."

Ginny flinched, but didn’t look up from her book.

"I just left the hospital wing," Ron continued, his eyes locking on hers and refusing to let go. "Madam Pomfrey has him flying high on painkillers. He’s asleep now."

Ginny bit her lip and blinked rapidly to clear her filling eyes.

Ron stomped down on his wavering resolve. He didn’t want to hurt her, but this had to be done. "He asked me why you haven’t been to see him, Ginny."

Ginny flinched again, but asked, "What did you say?"

"I made some stupid excuse about how you had been there the whole time he was unconscious. He didn’t seem to care. You have to go to him."

Ginny straightened her shoulders as her expression hardened. "Don’t tell me what I have to do, Ron; this has nothing to do with you."

"It bloody well does have something to do with me. I don’t like to see him this way. He’s hurt, and he’s been through enough. If he were the one messing this up after you’ve finally won, I’d be trying to knock some sense into him, too. But it’s not him; it’s you, and you’re hurting him. For crying out loud, Ginny – you’ve won – bloody act like it!"

Ginny’s eyes blazed. "Oh, that’s rich coming from you. What do you know about any of this? You did what you had to do, and when you got hurt, Hermione jumped right in and saved your life."

"What does that have to do with anything? When it came down to it, you killed Malfoy before he could kill Harry."

"It’s not the same! I had already attacked Harry at that point. Even after all that training, after everything I’d learned and promised myself…" Ginny inhaled sharply as her voice began to crack. "Even afterwards, all it took was one simple word from him...Imperio…and I was right back to being that foolish little girl doing his bidding again." Ginny’s hands shook as she wiped swiped furiously at her eyes.

"You were under the Imperius," Ron shouted, knowing their row was attracting some attention in the common room. "Don’t give me any cock and bull about being able to fight it; it was soddding Voldemort. That’s why so many witches and wizards got off in the first war, because it’s so impossible to fight. But you did it, Ginny; you broke free. Don’t let him win now."

Ginny shook her head stubbornly. "I swore I’d never be controlled like that again, but it happened, anyway, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

"Damn! The two of you are cut from the same cloth," Ron said, exasperated. "I’ve heard you shouting at Harry for drowning in this kind of guilt trap. Just give yourself a break, Ginny; go and talk to Harry."

"I can’t!" Ginny shouted, jumping up from her chair and covering her face with her hands. "Every time I think about going there, I remember that part of the reason he’s there now is because of me."

"You’re letting Voldemort win. Harry needs you, Ginny," Ron said, his frustration growing.

"I hurt him," Ginny looked up and shouted, two high points of color rising on her cheeks.

"Madam Pomfrey cleared all those burns long ago. It’s your absence now that’s hurting him more than any curse you could have used. You’ve had enough of people forcing you to do what you didn’t want to do – don’t do it to yourself," Ron said, running his hand through his hair.

Ginny set her lips in a thin line. "Back off, Ron; leave me alone."

"I can’t do that, Ginny. If you don’t go to him and soon, I’m not going to let you near enough to hurt him again when you finally come to your senses," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You’re doing the one thing Voldemort was never able to do – break his spirit."

Ginny spun around, raising her wand. "Hemicillus," she hissed.

Ron felt his nose and front teeth elongate and his ears moving to the top of his head. He tried to speak, but only an "Eee aw" sound came from his mouth.

"Now you look like the jackass you are," Ginny spat before turning on her heel and storming up the stairs.

Hermione – who had just entered the portrait hole in time to see Ginny hex her brother – rushed over to Ron and removed the spell.

"Ron, what did you say to her?" Hermione demanded, staring in shock at the girls’ staircase.

"I just said a few things she needed to hear about Harry," Ron replied, working out the kinks from his readjusted jaw.

"Oh, Ron. I thought we were going to let them work this out on their own," Hermione said, sighing.

"No. Ginny needed to be forced to see what was right in front of her. She’ll go see Harry tomorrow," Ron said with a smirk.

Hermione glanced at the staircase uncertainly. "I don’t know; she looked really angry."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "Trust me; I’ve got the Inner Eye," he said cheekily.

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain her giggles. "Oh, the Inner Eye, is it, now? Tell me, oh wise one, what is your Inner Eye telling you right now?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

A slow grin spread across Ron’s face. "It’s telling me you forgot to inspect the Room of Requirement while you were making your rounds. You’d better go back and check. Come on; I’ll help you."

Hermione continued to giggle as Ron dragged her out the portrait hole.

A bright ray of sunlight shone through the crack between the windowsill and shade and crept slowly across Harry’s face. He tried to shut his eyes tighter to force the light away, but it was too late, and he became aware of other sounds in the hospital wing. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he fumbled for his glasses.

It looked like a beautiful day, not that Harry would get to see any of it. He could barely raise himself into a seated position without gasping at the sheer agony tearing into his side, never mind get up to walk outdoors. Besides, what difference did it make? Harry rolled on his good side, facing away from the window. Maybe he could fall back to sleep. The throbbing pain that seared as he shifted his weight dispelled that idea. He was overdue for some pain potion – way overdue, from the feel of it. He didn’t want to be thought of as a whining crybaby, but he really hoped Madam Pomfrey would come by soon.

He sighed heavily, knowing that sleep wouldn’t return. His groggy mind vaguely recalled asking Ron about Ginny the previous evening, and Ron giving Harry a vague answer, yet again.

That did it.

If Ginny wouldn’t come to him, he was going to go to Ginny. He just hadn’t quite figured out how to do that yet. He didn’t think he could walk all the way up to Gryffindor tower without collapsing. He was also slightly fearful of the reception he would receive. He knew the students had been rejoicing over Voldemort’s fall, but Madam Pomfrey had screened his bed off from the rest of the wing to ensure that he wasn’t disturbed. He knew several rowdy groups had tried to break in to see him, but Madam Pomfrey had managed to keep them away. He wasn’t ready for that yet; he wanted at least to feel stronger physically.

If he could make it to the entrance hall, he might be able to summon his Firebolt. Professor McGonagall had told him that the collapse of the Chamber had caused severe damage to parts of Hogwarts. She’d debated on whether or not to close the school while repairs were made, but had instead decided to hold off until the summer holiday. Charms and Arithmancy classes were being held in the Great Hall, while Ancient Runes had been moved outdoors. Harry hadn’t been able to get a good look at the damage, and he wasn’t really certain that he wanted to see it. It was easier to avoid thinking about things that way.

Still, if he could make it to the entrance hall – he didn’t think the corridor from the hospital wing had sustained any damage – he could summon the Firebolt and… No. That wouldn’t work. Harry’s magical reserves were once again at burnout levels after using all his strength in the final battle. He’d had to promise Madam Pomfrey on his honor that he wouldn’t attempt any magic.

How else could he get to Ginny? It was much easier to focus on Ginny than to let his mind drift back to that Chamber, and Luna…

Fawkes!

If he called Fawkes, perhaps the phoenix would agree to lift him up to Gryffindor tower. As he straightened up in bed, a flutter of wings caught his attention. It wasn’t Fawkes, however; it was Hedwig. She flew gracefully around the hospital wing before perching on the rail behind Harry’s bed. She nipped at his fingers gently when he raised his hand to scratch her head.

"Figures," he muttered with a fond grin. "Did you know I was thinking of asking Fawkes for a favor? Are you still jealous, girl?"

Hedwig had had her nose completely out of joint since Fawkes’s perch had been moved into Harry’s dormitory. She’d coldly turned her back on him and refused even to accept an owl treat for several days.

Harry smiled and scratched her head affectionately. "We’ve been through a lot together, Hedwig. No one will ever take your place."

Hedwig hooted and cocked her head toward the rustling curtain surrounding Harry’s bed. Harry peered around Hedwig to see if it was Madam Pomfrey arriving with his morning dose of pain potion.

It wasn’t.

It was Ginny.

She didn’t say anything, but nervously bit on her lip, a hesitant smile crossing her features. She was extremely pale and almost wraithlike as she stepped inside the curtains.

Hedwig fluttered her feathers and stepped closer to Harry. She appeared to glare at Ginny accusingly.

Harry’s breath froze in his throat. He’d been so anxious to see Ginny; hadn’t he just been plotting a way to get to her, moments ago? But now that she was here with him, he didn’t know what to say. His mouth opened and closed several times as he stared at her, drinking in the sight of her. He even managed to forget the pain in his side for the first time that morning. Ginny.

She held a notebook in her hand and put it down at the foot of his bed, not quite meeting his gaze. She wore her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, but several wisps had escaped to gently frame her face. She was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen.

"You came," he said, releasing a long held breath.

With that, Ginny’s composure broke, and she burst into tears.

At first, Harry didn’t know what to do. He sat in his hospital bed, blinking stupidly, until the sight of the tears running freely down her cheeks and splashing onto his bedcovers sent his protective instincts into overdrive.

"Ginny," he gasped, both from shock and from the pain of sitting up so quickly. He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him. She perched on the edge of his bed with her hands covering her face and sobbed into his arms.

"Shh," he said, rubbing her back soothingly. "I’m okay, Ginny. Everything is going to be okay." As he said the words while holding onto his Ginny at last, Harry could almost believe they were true.

He held her for what seemed like an eternity, allowing the maelstrom of her tears eventually to whither and fade on his shoulder. After she had quieted, he gently kissed the top of her head, breathing in the delicious aroma of wildflowers. The scent always reminded him of the Burrow – of home. He pulled the ribbon from her hair, allowing it to fall around her shoulders.

"I’m sorry," she whispered.

Now that Ginny’s tears were spent, Harry felt a lump growing in his own throat. "You came," he repeated gruffly, tightening his embrace. He shuddered forcefully while burying his face in the crook of her neck. Ginny tightened her own grip around him to the point that Harry wasn’t certain who was comforting whom.

"Someone with some great insight knocked some sense into me," Ginny said, smiling wryly.

A slow grin spread across Harry’s face. Ron. The big, wonderful, interfering prat. "Great insight and extremely poor timing?" Harry asked.

"Right in one," Ginny said, giggling into Harry’s chest as Hedwig hooted and leaned over to peck Ginny’s hand hard.

Ginny pulled her hand away quickly. "I’m sorry, Hedwig. I promise not to hurt him again," she told the owl solemnly.

Hedwig blinked several times before lowering her ruffled feathers and settling down behind Harry’s head.

"Why did you stay away?" Harry asked, not wanting to do anything to make her leave again, but needing to hear, all the same. He scratched his loyal pet fondly as she leaned her head into his touch.

Ginny sighed deeply before sitting back to stare Harry right in the eye, as if she were on trial and prepared to meet her fate. "I panicked. I let the guilt overwhelm me; I did the same thing I always shouted at you for doing. I hated that I let him control me – again – and that you got hurt because of it – again."

Harry shook his head, wincing at the pain. "But Ginny, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t let him do anything – he takes, and he destroys without giving anyone else a say in the matter."

"Yes, that is what he did. That is the way he worked, but not anymore. He’ll never use another person that way again. You did it, Harry. You’re free," Ginny whispered, swiping the hair from Harry’s forehead. She gently ran her fingers through his hair the way he liked, and he was thrilled that she was finally here.

"We did it, Ginny – you and Ron and Hermione and Neville and the twins and even Percy; we all did it together," Harry said firmly. "It was the force of our friendship and the feelings we had for each other that finally did him in."

Ginny blinked as a few more stray tears fell.

Harry swiped them off her cheek. "I know it’s over, but I don’t know what that means. I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel. What happens now?" Harry asked with great uncertainty, feeling rather small and insignificant at the moment. He inhaled sharply as a hot, searing bolt of pain ripped through his side.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked, jumping off the bed and raking her gaze all over him.

"Don’t go," he gasped.

"I’m not going anywhere again, Harry; I promise. What’s wrong, though?" Ginny asked, both concern and remorse evident in her eyes.

"I’m fine," Harry said, forcing a pitiful excuse for a smile. He knew he wasn’t fooling her since she continued to stare at him, so he said, "I’m just due for a potion."

"I’ll get it," Ginny said, and before he could say a word, she’d marched over to Madam Pomfrey’s office.

He had to admit it – he enjoyed having her take care of him. She returned with three different phials, and he downed them all quickly. The first one had been the pain potion, and he felt the relief instantly. He hoped it wouldn’t make him start saying anything stupid. He knew the one Madam Pomfrey gave him at night was stronger and tended to mess with his head, but even the smaller doses sometimes made him loopy.

"What happens now?" he repeated, still wanting an answer.

Ginny stared at him silently. She seemed to be working up the courage for something, but he had no idea what it could be. Finally, she squared her shoulders and said, "Let me see, Harry."

Harry didn’t have to ask what she meant.

"No, Ginny. It’ll be fine," he said, shaking his head.

"Let me see," she repeated, pulling back his blanket and undoing the buttons on his pajama top. Harry sighed in resignation, but let her do it. When she had the buttons undone, she pulled the top apart to inspect the damage to his side. He was bandaged from under his armpit and along the length his ribcage to his hip. The skin around the bandage was red and raw. What was underneath the bandage was even worse, and Harry’s skin broke into goose pimples when the air touched his lightning-shaped wound.

Harry held his breath, fearing her revulsion, but only sorrow showed on her face.

"It’s another curse scar," Harry said, shrugging and trying to make light of the situation. "It’s not like I’m not used to that. Madam Pomfrey says it’s so much bigger because of the shield that deflected it."

"Our shield made it worse?" Ginny asked in horror.

"No! I mean…it made the scar bigger, but the alternative would’ve been death. I’ll take the scar," Harry said.

Ginny swallowed visibly and began to re-button his pajamas. She smiled tremulously and started the conversation right back up as if there had never been an interruption. He loved her all the more for doing it.

"We move on with our lives," Ginny said, straightening Harry’s bedcovers. "Mum and Dad have already started rebuilding the Burrow. Did you know that Dad was promoted to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement? He took Madam Bones’s old position and got a nice pay raise to go with it. Along with the money you gave them from Sirius, they’re making a ‘new and improved’ Burrow, as Mum says."

Harry grinned; he couldn’t think of anything more fitting than Mrs. Weasley getting herself a kitchen fit for a queen. "I like that."

"Hmm, me, too. As for the rest of us, well, we’ve got the rest of our lives to plan. You promised me we’d look into a vacation home by the sea, remember?" Ginny asked, continuing to run her fingers in Harry’s hair. The combination of her soothing touch and the pain potion was making him drowsy.

"I remember. I’d like to have my own place on the beach," he said with a small smile.

"Well, I still have another year of school left, and you’re going to have to start considering what you really want to be," Ginny said.

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, have you seen the stack of job offers that have been piling up?" Ginny asked with wide eyes.

Harry furrowed his brow, perplexed. In truth, he’d been avoiding his mail. "But…I haven’t even taken my NEWTs yet."

"Doesn’t seem to matter – although I wouldn’t tell Hermione that," Ginny said with a grin.

"What about you, Ginny? How are you doing with all of this?" Harry asked.

"I don’t really know," Ginny said, shrugging. "I’ve kind of been in shock these past few weeks. I’ve got plenty of newspapers and magazines hounding me for my story, but nothing that has jumped out at me. I suppose I should feel guilty for killing Lucius Malfoy, but I don’t."

"You have no reason to feel guilty for that. He attacked and nearly killed Ron. If you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be dead now," Harry said, grabbing Ginny’s hand and squeezing it firmly.

Ginny averted her gaze. "You don’t know that."

"Yes, I do," Harry said loudly. He tightened his grip on her hand. "My magic was completely drained at that point. You saved my life in that Chamber, the same way I did yours all those years ago. We’re completely bonded together now."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Ginny’s face. "I like that."

"I do, too," Harry replied. He pointed towards her notebook. "What do you have there?"

Ginny scrunched up her nose. "You’ve heard about Rita’s article while you were in hospital?" she asked, a fierce hardness crossing her features. When Harry nodded, she said, "I wrote a response."

"Really?" Harry asked, trying to cover his grin. He didn’t know how to explain how he’d seen Ginny haul off and deck Rita Skeeter, although he cherished the image in his head.

"I’ve always liked to write. I used to write short stories when I was younger, and I’d always kept a diary," Ginny said, clearing her throat. "After the fiasco in first year, I couldn’t go back to it; it felt tainted. After everything that happened down there this time, I needed to do something to claim me back from it all. I’m not all that keen to try a diary again, yet, but this was a part of me that he destroyed, so I decided to take it back. He’s gone, and we’re still here."

"Can I read it?" Harry asked

Ginny shook her head. "Not yet. It still needs some work. You can read it with everyone else after I send it in."

"I don’t get a first peek?" he asked, pouting.

"Nope. You’ll be highly embarrassed and beg me not to send it. I’m saving you the anxiety of waiting for everyone’s reaction after I refuse your demands," she replied airily.

Harry gave her a lopsided grin. "You think you know me so well?

"Oh, I do," Ginny replied, smirking.

"Then I’ll have to work on surprising you," Harry said playfully.

Ginny giggled. "Has that pain potion helped yet? You seem more comfortable, anyway."

"Yeah, I’m fine."

"Right," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Would you like some help freshening up?"

"Are you offering to give me a sponge bath?" Harry asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Ginny raised a single, finely arched eyebrow before casting a cleansing spell.

"You’re no fun," Harry said, grumbling.

Despite all his threats, pleas and cajoling, Harry was unable to convince Madam Pomfrey to release him from the hospital wing. She insisted that this time, his health was in her hands, and he’d do things her way. He was restless and bored, but he didn’t mind her company, really. Aside from Mrs. Weasley, she was the one who had mothered him the most in his life – unless he wanted to count Ginny and Hermione – which he didn’t.

The area around his bed was covered in a wide variety of cards, candy, gifts and well wishes, mostly from people he didn’t even know. It seemed that everyone in wizarding Britain – in wizarding Europe, even – had felt compelled to write him. Harry wasn’t certain how he felt about it all, and noticing his dismay, his friends had taken to screening his mail even after the house-elves got finished with it.

The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Wizarding World Today, and a variety of other papers and magazines were clamoring for interviews. Harry had ignored them all until Professor McGonagall had gently told him that they would continue to hound him until he made a statement. She told them that she was holding them back while he was in hospital, but once he left the sanctuary of Hogwarts; the press would have a field day. He’d be better off to face them on his own terms beforehand.

He’d grudgingly agreed to set up a few interviews, but not until he was feeling better. He didn’t want to show them any weakness. They’d already picked up on Rita’s claims that he’d turned dark. Even worse for Harry, they’d begun to speculate on his childhood with the Dursleys. Harry most definitely didn’t want to talk about that.

Minister Bones had been by to visit, and Harry had painfully recounted everything that had happened in the Chamber. It had been a difficult conversation, and Harry had to pause several times to get through it, but Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all sat with him, filling in blanks along the way.

Hermione had been in full protective-mode and kept jumping in to answer questions before Harry could open his mouth. It was Ron who finally leaned over and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Let the man speak, Hermione. There wasn’t any damage to his vocal chords."

Hermione looked abashed, but Harry squeezed her hand to let her know he appreciated her good intentions. He quietly but firmly answered the remaining questions himself. The Minister promised to ensure swift justice for Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, and that Harry would be well guarded for his return trip on the Hogwarts Express in June.

Yet another headline with his name attached almost escaped his notice, except that this one had a very familiar name attached to it.

The Boy-Who-Should-be-Left-Alone

By Ginevra Weasley

I’ve seen so many articles written about the Boy-Who-Lived over the years that I usually just laugh at the supposition. It is always so obvious that the authors of these articles know absolutely nothing about the real Harry Potter. I stopped laughing recently when these articles became anything but funny.

I’ve seen headlines with the audacity to suggest that Harry defeated Voldemort – yes Voldemort – because he wanted the title of Dark Lord for himself. I’ve read the most ridiculous scenarios, blatant lies, and misleading innuendo, all in the name of newsworthiness.

I know the truth; I was there. I watched as this man, who was cursed by the Dark Lord before he was even old enough to say the name, faced down this hideous creature whom most feared to even mention. Harry lost his family and the life he should have had because of this villain’s mad desire for domination, and he still offered redemption to the monster who took it from him.

There is enough forgiveness in his heart to do that, and anyone who really knows him understands that. You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

He may have destroyed Voldemort in that Chamber, but in doing so, he saved all of us. He gave us the chance to finish school, plan a career, build a home, start a family. Things the rest of us take for granted. Things that mean everything to Harry because they have long been denied him.

He watched a good friend die in that Chamber, because she had been cruelly manipulated in a plot against him. Yet he still offered a peaceful way out. All Harry is seeking now is for the same chance he’s given back to all of us – to live his life in peace.

Harry is still in hospital, recovering from the injuries inflicted on him that day. He can’t get out of bed on his own yet, so he reads a lot. Whoever said that words couldn’t hurt has never had their name dragged through the mud repeatedly for all to see.

Harry is the kindest, gentlest, giving soul you’ll ever have the good fortune to meet, and he’s suffered enough. He needs some time to recover in peace without all this endless speculation about his life.

And we, the public, owe him that much. Don’t you agree?

Harry was both impressed and embarrassed by her words. He really hoped that people would listen to her, but he highly doubted it. More likely, they’d focus their interest on what her relationship was to him. Even so, he’d rather they focus on his relationship with her than what it had been with the Dursleys.

Reading the article made him think of Luna. The Quibbler was the only publication not hounding him for an interview, but he wasn’t certain if that was because her father was in mourning or because he blamed Harry for what happened to Luna. Harry certainly blamed himself. He should have noticed something; he should have suspected. Every time they had been attacked outside of Hogwarts, Luna had known where they were. It had never even crossed his mind that the spy could have been someone so close.

It had been stupid, really. Hadn’t Wormtail’s betrayal taught him anything? He should have been paying attention. Luna paid the ultimate price, but even though she’d betrayed him, he could find no anger in his heart, only sorrow and pity – and guilt. Always the guilt.

Ginny entered the hospital wing with a spring in her step. She peered around the curtain to see Harry playing chess with Ron, while Hermione sat curled up in a chair revising for her Arithmancy exam.

"Hey, you lot," Ginny exclaimed brightly.

"What are you so chipper about?" Ron asked, barely raising his glance from the chessboard.

"Oh, nothing much. Have any of you seen the Prophet today?" Ginny asked with forced casualness.

"Did you write another article, Ginny?" Hermione asked, beaming. She’d been delighted with Ginny stepping forth and taking the newspaper on. She insisted that change had to start somewhere, and it would be great to get an unbiased reporter to start reporting the actual news. She’d even encouraged Ginny to begin writing Harry’s biography, something Harry was adamantly opposed to doing. Both girls ignored him since they said it would be done, anyway.

"Nope. This is just a front page news item," Ginny said, grinning.

"Spill it, Ginny," Harry said. Despite Ginny’s obvious delight, he still held on to some trepidation. He was very wary of anything that appeared in a newspaper, since his face continued to appear in most of them.

"It seems our illustrious former Minister – one Cornelius I’ve-got-my-head-so-far-up-my-arse-even-I-believe-what-I-say Fudge – has been arrested on charges of breaking the Statute for Secrecy," Ginny said, squealing by the time she’d finished her statement.

"What?" all three seventh-years asked as one.

Ginny nodded emphatically. "Yeah, turns out it’s a second offence, but the first one was covered up."

"You’re kidding me. What did he do in front of Muggles?" Ron asked, the evil grin spread across his face making him appear strikingly like the twins.

"Well, since the debacle at the Ministry, he’s been shunned in the wizarding world, hasn’t he? No one would hire him or want their name tied to him in any way. From what Fred and George have said, his wife left him after he stranded her at the Ministry gala and took all the family funds, so he had to get work amongst the Muggles. You know how he always thought he was better than everyone else; it turns out, he couldn’t keep up with the Muggles and used magic to try to do his job," Ginny said, smiling with delight.

"And they really arrested him?" Hermione asked.

"Fred and George also said that there was an angry mob waiting for him when they brought him in. They booed him and threw things at him and everything. They said it was priceless – a politician’s worst nightmare, all covered by the press. The Ministry broke his wand and everything." Ginny was nearly rocking on her feet in glee as she told them.

"Bloody Hell," Ron said. "How do they always manage to be there for the good stuff?"

"Ron!" Hermione said with a scowl, although the corner of her lips were twitching. "How did Percy take it?"

Ginny’s expression lost some of its excitement. "I feel kind of bad for Percy; he’s really struggling. He may have won his family back, but he’s not having an easy time with his co-workers. Most of them still associate him with Fudge. Even with his part in the final battle, they’ve only kept him on at the Ministry out of respect for Dad. And that, of course, really rubs Percy the wrong way.

"Still, he’s got a lot to make up for, and I think it’s right that it shouldn’t happen over night. Do you know what I mean?" Ginny asked, biting her lip.

"I agree, but it’s hard to watch. Even if he behaved like a stupid ponce, he’s still my brother, and I’m glad to have him back," Ron admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I might want to take the mickey out of him, but it doesn’t mean I want to watch someone else do it."

"Why so quiet, Harry?" Hermione asked

"Hmm? Oh. Just…thinking," Harry replied

"About anything in particular?" Ginny asked.

Harry raised his eyes and studied them carefully. With a frown, he said, "I got a letter from Simon Coffey…an offer, really."

"The Quidditch Scout?" Ron asked, nearly leaping onto Harry’s bed. "What kind of offer? What did it say? Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I just got it this morning. He offered me the Seeker position for the English team. He’s going to be at our final match to get an answer. He said I’d begin training as soon as I’ve recovered," Harry replied. He was still uncertain how he felt about it, and couldn’t decide if this was what he wanted. It was hard to imagine playing Quidditch for England when he couldn’t even manage to get out of bed.

Ron nearly fell out of his chair

"They offered it to you just like that; you don’t even have to try out?" Hermione asked with a frown. She’d been trying to convince Harry to take the upcoming NEWTs more seriously, and she obviously didn’t approve of job offers before the exams.

"That’s what it says. I dunno, why?" Harry asked. Now that he thought about it, he supposed he should have been asked to try out before they offered him a spot on the team.

"It’s because you’re you, mate," Ron said without a trace of envy. "So, when did Madam Pomfrey say you could start?"

"Ron!" Hermione said.

"What? Quidditch doesn’t require a whole lot of magic, and he can do it sitting down, just to start practice," Ron said, shrugging.

"So, you think I should do it?" Harry asked.

Ron turned to face Harry incredulously. "What? Are you mad?"

"What about being Aurors together?" Harry asked. Now that Hermione had confirmed that she was planning on applying to the Institute after the NEWTs, he thought Ron would be devastated if Harry gave up that dream, as well.

"Harry, don’t be daft," Ron said. "This is professional Quidditch we’re talking about. This chance doesn’t come along every day. It changes everything."

"It does?" Harry asked, feeling stupid. Why don’t I even know what I want?

"Don’t even tell me you’re considering turning this down, because hospital bed or not, I’ll knock your block off if you blow this," Ron replied, dead-serious.

"Good grief," Ginny said, rolling her eyes at her brother.

"Ron!" Hermione repeated, apparently scandalized by her boyfriend’s obsession.

"What’s troubling you, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"I dunno. It just seems like I’d be spending my time playing when there are still Death Eaters out there that need to be brought to justice. Everyone isn’t safe until they are," Harry said quietly.

"It will never be completely safe, luv. You’ve had enough of people forcing you to do what you didn’t want to do – don’t do it to yourself. Someone very wise once said that to me," Ginny said, smiling at a beaming Ron.

Harry looked at each of them carefully. All of their faces reflected encouragement and support. He knew they’d be behind him no matter what he decided to do. It was a new experience for Harry – having the decision totally up to him. Yet again, he quietly gave thanks for having such wonderful friends.

The Quidditch final was rapidly approaching, and Harry had accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be able to play. He smiled and encouraged Ron and Ginny as they went off to practices, but once he was alone, his depression set in. It wasn’t fair! This was the last game, and he should be able to play. Voldemort had managed to reach out from the grave and ruin that, too.

Even knowing that he was going to accept Simon Coffey’s offer to play for England, and that this wouldn’t really be his last chance to compete, didn’t fully lift his spirits. He suspected that feeling might change once he arrived at training camp, but for now…it was the final game of his Hogwarts career, it would decide whether or not Gryffindor took the Quidditch cup, and he couldn’t even play or sit on the bench. He’d never be able to make the walk out to the Quidditch pitch, and there was no way he’d submit himself to the humiliation of having to be carried into the stands.

His recovery was moving along nicely, according to Madam Pomfrey. His magic levels were on the rise, and she hoped that he’d even be able to perform for his NEWTs. All of his physical injuries except for the burn caused by the Killing Curse had been healed. That one remaining wound was proving stubborn, but it was healing. He still tired extremely easily, but he remembered that from the previous summer. It was due to the fact his magic was healing his body while he slept.

The morning of the Quidditch final dawned bright and glorious. Figures, Harry thought sourly.

He’d pasted on a smile and wished Ron and Ginny luck. Both had been hesitant to leave him, and he valiantly tried to cover his dismay, but he knew he’d failed miserably. It wasn’t their fault, and he wanted them to win; it was Ron’s final game, too, after all, but it still hurt.

Hermione had offered to stay behind with him. She said she was certain if they opened one of the windows they would be able to hear the commentary, but Harry declined. He wasn’t in the mood for company, and he didn’t want her pity.

After they left, he pulled himself out of bed and shuffled over to the window. He managed to pry it open, despite Madam Pomfrey’s sticking charms, and was irritated by how winded that small amount of exertion made him. Just as he’d settled himself on the windowsill, the door to the hospital wing burst open, and Hermione strode in, followed by Fred, George, Bill, Percy, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"See what you can do with him, boys," Hermione said, smirking.

Harry gaped at them like a fish out of water.

"Harry, old chap, the match starts in ten minutes. Why aren’t you dressed yet?" asked Fred, staring at Harry’s hospital issue pajamas with scorn.

"Oh, no. This won’t do," George said, shaking his head. "Mum, you’re good at these charms…could you?"

"What are you lot doing here?" Harry asked.

Mrs. Weasley raised her wand and transfigured Harry’s pajamas into jeans and a heavy, hooded sweatshirt. Harry blinked in confusion.

"Jeez, mum. It’s spring; he’s going to roast out there," Bill replied, grinning at Harry.

"Out where?" Harry demanded, feeling nettled. "What are you on about?"

"Why, it’s the Quidditch final, Harry. Didn’t you know?" Fred asked in mock horror.

"Gryffindor might win the cup. I’m certain all the good seats are gone by now, but we’ll have to make do," George said.

"I’m not going to the match," Harry said firmly.

"Of course you are," said Percy. "You have to be there; they’re expecting you."

This only raised Harry’s ire further. "Well, I’m done doing what’s expected of me."

This sobered everyone up a bit.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said gently, sitting down beside him. "We won’t force you if you really don’t want to go, but we’d love to have you there, dear. I think it will be good for you to get some fresh air. It would mean a lot to Ron and Ginny to see you in the crowd."

Harry scowled and looked away, knowing he couldn’t refuse her, particularly when she played that card. She knew it, too. "Okay," Harry said, sighing and rising on shaky legs. He really didn’t think he could walk all the way to the pitch, but he wasn’t about to admit that to them.

Mr. Weasley grabbed his arm. "Hold on, Harry. I think we have something that will help. Boys."

Bill waved his wand and a large, squishy purple chair complete with cupholder that held his Omnoculars floated into the room. It reminded Harry of a giant beanbag chair. "What is that?" he asked.

"It’s a hover chair. They’re new from Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. We expect them to be all the rage. Have a seat, Harry, try it out," George said.

Harry stared at them dubiously.

"Don’t worry, Harry. There are absolutely no tricks; Mum made certain of it," Percy assured him.

Fred and George scowled.

"Do try it, Harry," Hermione said. "The match is about to start."

Harry allowed Mr. Weasley and Bill to help him into the chair. It was very comfortable, and Harry enjoyed playing with the controls to make the chair speed up and go higher and lower.

"Okay," he said. "Under one condition. We leave this outside the stands, and you let me walk up to my own seat."

He could tell Mrs. Weasley wasn’t happy with the idea, but even she agreed to it when Harry looked at her with pleading eyes. That settled, the group made their way out to the Quidditch pitch.

Harry thought the climb up the stairs into the Gryffindor stands would kill him, but he struggled to keep his face impassive. When they finally arrived at the top and settled into an empty bench, Harry wearily sank down and shut his eyes.

"Are you all right, Harry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I’m fine," Harry said, immediately. "That was just a little longer than I remembered."

Mrs. Weasley smiled and gently patted his arm. "You just let me know if it gets too much for you, and we can head back early."

Once he caught his breath, Harry took a good look around. They’d seated him between Mrs. Weasley and the side of the stand. He was grateful, since it gave him something to lean against. Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Lavender were seated behind them, and he could already tell they were guarding him from the younger students who were craning their necks to get a good look at him. This was Harry’s first public appearance since the battle.

He nodded to his fellow classmates in appreciation, and they all smiled brightly. He could see that both Parvati and Lavender were nearly ready to burst with their questions, and the fact that they were controlling themselves meant a lot to him. The flash of Colin’s camera blinded him briefly before Seamus turned and glared at the younger boy so hard that Colin meekly returned to his seat.

"Oh, here they come," Hermione said, as the Gryffindor team emerged from the locker room. Ginny’s flame-red hair flew like a banner behind her, and she waved at Harry cheerfully. He could see the joy and delight on her face over the fact that he’d come to the match, and it made everything worthwhile.

He gave Ron a thumbs-up sign as he zoomed past, and Ron returned the gesture, grinning madly. Harry was suddenly very happy to be alive. Mrs. Weasley beamed at him and pulled him closer to her. He rested his head on her shoulder and allowed himself to relax. His body ached, but it was a good ache, nonetheless.

He watched as Tracy Bennett sped past, her eyes rapidly scanning for the Snitch. She looked impossibly small on her Cleensweep, but still in control of the situation. He felt as if the torch had been passed.

"Remember your first game, Harry?" George asked. "You were even smaller than Tracy. We were afraid a good gust of wind would topple you."

"Yeah, Angelina and the girls were all stressed over the little firstie," Fred said, laughing fondly. "We took bets on how long you’d make it before throwing up."

Harry glared at them. "Yeah, I remember how supportive you were."

"Hey," Fred said, pretending offense. "I won that bet. I was the only one who bet you wouldn’t hurl."

Harry’s cheeks reddened as he mumbled, "Actually, I did right before breakfast."

The Weasley brothers howled in laughter, and even Harry joined them while Mrs. Weasley tut-tutted her sons.

"Honestly, you boys. I don’t what trouble you got into here. Picking on a younger student? I raised you better than that," she said, huffing indignantly.

"Now, now, Molly," Mr. Weasley said, reaching over the twins to pat her hand. He was grinning along with his sons. "Boys will be boys, and Harry came through that game spectacularly, according to Ron."

"Yes, despite the odd behavior of his broom," Percy added.

"Oh, that was Quirrell," Harry replied. "He cursed it."

Several red heads snapped to look at Harry at once, and he shrunk back slightly. He forgot that not everyone knew what really happened, even now. "Er…"

"It’s true," Hermione said. "At the time, we thought it was Snape. I set his robes on fire to distract him, and in the commotion he knocked Quirrell over, thus breaking eye contact."

"You set Snape’s robes on fire?" Bill asked, impressed.

"I thought he was trying to kill Harry," Hermione said, as if that justified anything.

"Hermione, dear girl," said Fred.

"You’ve been keeping…," said George.

"…things from us," finished Fred.

"Oh, I hate when you two do that," Hermione said.

The game was fast and high-scoring. Harry screamed himself hoarse, cheering for his team. Ron made several spectacular saves, inciting a rousing chorus of Weasley is our King. Harry had spotted the Snitch twice, but neither Tracy nor the Hufflepuff Seeker saw it. When Gryffindor had a big enough lead to ensure a victory of the House Cup, he craned forward in his seat willing Tracy to find it now.

Both Seekers spotted it together and raced toward the center of the pitch. Luck was on Gryffindor’s side as the Snitch veered toward Tracy and she clasped her hand around it.

"Gryffindor wins," Luke Donovan said flatly

Wild cheering spread through the Gryffindor stands, the loudest shouts coming from a section of redheads seated in the center.

When Professor McGonagall stood with the Quidditch cup in her hands and beckoned to the team, Ginny zoomed over the stands and hovered in front of Harry.

"Come on, Harry. This is as much yours as it is ours," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Ginny, I don’t think-" began Mrs. Weasley, but Harry had already jumped to his feet, a huge grin spreading across his face. As he swung his leg over the broom behind Ginny, Mrs. Weasley said, "Do be careful, dear."

He wrapped his arms around Ginny’s waist, and she zoomed into the air. He inhaled deeply, his senses coming alive with the scents and sounds of flight. Ginny guided her broom alongside Ron, who reached over and clapped Harry on the back.

"We did it, mate; we did it!" he exclaimed.

"Congratulations, Ron," Harry said, and meant it.

Professor McGonagall handed the cup to Ron, who raised it in the air amidst the cheers from the stands. Harry and Ginny got the loudest cheer of all as they held the cup together and circled the pitch. Harry could see Cordelia cheering for them; she’d been named the new Head of Gryffindor House when Professor McGonagall became Headmistress.

As Ginny sped her broom in the air and turned into a steep dive, Harry let out a small laugh. Ginny slowed in order to peer over her shoulder at him. "Harry, did you just giggle? In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you giggle."

"I did not giggle," Harry said, indignantly puffing out his chest and flexing. "It was a chuckle…not a giggle."

Ginny threw her head back and snorted. "Right. You’re giggling like a school girl, Potter."

She soared off into the air at breakneck speed, and Harry giggled again.

All in all, it was the best afternoon Harry had spent in a while. He thought his cheeks would stick from the grin plastered across his face. Looking around at his teammates, he saw that they all wore the same jubilant expression.

When the celebration on the pitch finally wore down and Cordelia had taken the Cup back to the Gryffindor common room, Ginny must have sensed Harry’s exhaustion. Rather than landing back in the stands with the rest of the Weasleys, she zoomed off the pitch and flew him directly to the front gate. Some students opened the massive doors for them, and she proceeded to fly right into the hospital wing.

Harry was grateful to her for doing it. He’d been worried about getting through the crowd leaving the pitch. His classmates and the Weasleys had done a brilliant job of keeping him out of the spotlight, but he didn’t think that luck could hold with everyone leaving at once. He was also feeling drained and was just as happy not to have to make the long climb out of the stands.

"Exactly what do you think you are doing," Madam Pomfrey asked, her hands resting on her hips as she tapped her foot in stern disapproval.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Ginny said, grinning cheekily. "I’m just returning your patient."

"When I gave my permission for some fresh air, I most certainly did not say anything about broom rides or spending the whole morning on the Quidditch pitch. It’s a wonder you haven’t done any more damage to yourself, Mr. Potter. You’re past due for all your potions," Madam Pomfrey scolded.

Harry grinned. He was exhausted, his side was killing him – and he couldn’t be happier. He pecked Ginny on the cheek and hoisted himself off her broom. He watched her leave the hospital wing to head back to the locker room to shower and change before he turned back to the matron. "I’m fine, Madam Pomfrey, really," he said.

"I’ll decide that," Madam Pomfrey said, transfiguring his clothes back into pajamas and pushing him towards his bed. As she tucked him in and readjusted the bed covers needlessly, she said, "I don’t want to see you out of that bed again today. Do you understand me, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, ma’am," Harry replied.

She handed him the potions, and as he diligently swallowed each one, she said, "I don’t know what I’m going to do here next year after you’ve gone. You constitute about eighty percent of my workload."

"I’ll miss you, too, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied softly.

She huffed and returned to her office while Harry grinned. He settled back into the downy comfort of the mattress and had just about dozed off when he heard the door open again. He kept his eyes shut, half hoping that it wouldn’t be anyone coming to see him.

"Harry," Ron whispered, dispelling that hope. "Harry, wake up."

Harry groggily opened his eyes to see a blurry redhead close to his face. He pulled back, startled. "Oi, Ron! Don’t do that."

He reached for his glasses and propped himself up on the bed. It was only then that he realized they weren’t alone – Simon Coffey had followed Ron into the hospital wing.

"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Well," Ron said, glaring at Harry with narrowed eyes. Harry knew Ron was threatening him not to mess up, and he nearly burst into laughter over Ron’s expression. "I’ll be back later, Harry, after you two have had a chance to talk."

After Ron left, Simon sat down and smiled his oily smile. Harry had the distinct impression that the man would sell his mother if Harry asked. "Have you made your decision, Mr. Potter? Training camp for the English team is on the northern border of England, not too far from here. It would be an easy journey if you still have friends here that you’d like to visit next term," Simon said, and Harry knew exactly what he was implying.

"Is that so?" he asked non-committing.

"Yes, yes, it is," Simon said cheerfully. "When shall I tell the team to expect you?"

"Why don’t they want to see me play first?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter, you seem like a bright young man. You know you can play; I know you can play. You have the talent, but you also have celebrity status behind you. Any team would be foolish not to use that to their advantage. I could place you in one of the league teams, but then the others teams would be jealous because you’re such a national figure. If we have you on the English team, we have the support of all England behind you, all Britain, really. It’s a no-brainer. Don’t let your discomfort with your celebrity status ruin your chances at a brilliant career."

"And a brilliant score for you, as well?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Simon shrugged un-apologetically. "It will be quite a coup for me, I can admit."

"I’ll do it under one condition," Harry said.

"Just one?"

"In order to become a Scout for the Ministry, one has to have a recommendation from another Scout. Is that true?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Simon said.

"I want you to recommend Ron Weasley," Harry replied.

"The redhead kid who just left?" Simon asked. "Done. The thought even occurred to me after our last conversation. I’ll put the recommendation in when I leave here today. He should hear from the Ministry within a few days."

"You have yourself a deal then, " Harry said, grinning broadly. He was going to play Quidditch for England.

When the Weasley clan returned later that afternoon to collect Harry and smuggle him out to attend the Gryffindor after-party – which was already in full swing – they found him sound asleep with a huge grin plastered across his face.

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Journey Home

Harry’s head hit the table with a thump. He was sitting in the common room with Ron and Hermione, revising for his Defense NEWT, which was scheduled to happen the next day, and the words wouldn’t stop blurring on the page. He found it extremely ironic that after defeating the worst dark lord in decades, he still had to sit for an exam on Defense Against the Dark Arts. Someone up in the heavens must really enjoy making sport of him.

Madam Pomfrey had reluctantly allowed his release from the hospital wing several days prior so that he could participate in the exams. She’d given him an extra strong dose of the pain-relieving potion, with instructions not to take it until his revising was complete and he was ready to turn in each evening. That particular potion always hit him really hard, and he could feel the effects messing with his head since he had, of course, ignored her instructions and already taken it.

He’d sat through both his Transfiguration and Charms exams already, with Defense Against the Dark Arts scheduled for the next day, followed by Potions, and, finally, Care of Magical Creatures on Friday. Even though Harry had dropped Hagrid’s class in sixth year, Hagrid had encouraged him to sit for the NEWT, anyway. He’d insisted that Harry had already done advanced work on the subject, and since the phoenix was a NEWT level creature – and he had one of his own – he was certainly qualified to sit for the exam. Harry had agreed mainly to please Hagrid, but now he was wondering what he’d been thinking.

His first two exams had been bizarre, to say the least. He’d followed Hermione’s frantic revision schedule and tried to prepare himself as much as possible for what he thought might be covered on the exams, but when he entered the room for his turn, all the instructors wanted to talk about was how he had defeated Voldemort.

Harry had almost got used to it. After his release from hospital, he’d been bombarded with questions from his classmates – even classmates he’d never spoken to before had suddenly started conversations, as if they were long-lost friends. He found it all rather unnerving. It reminded him of the conversation he’d had with Professor Dumbledore and Kingsley Shacklebolt the night of the Awards Gala, and his heart ached painfully when he thought that neither of them were here to see that they were right about his ever-increasing celebrity status.

So, when the instructors started asking the same questions as his classmates, he wasn’t all that surprised. The only difference between the two exams was that the Charms examiner wanted to know exactly which Charms had been used, and the Transfiguration examiner wanted to know about any Transfiguration spells.

When he’d spoken with Minister Bones about what had happened in the Chamber, she’d asked that he keep the exact spell – The Curse of the Damned – secret from the general populace. She didn’t mind that he said he’d used old magic, but she thought it best if the specifics remained confidential. That was fine with Harry, since he really didn’t want to talk about it, anyway. He’d fulfilled his role, he’d done what he had to do, and now he wished everyone would just let him be.

Old magic had suddenly become the rage in the press, and the papers were reporting that books on anything to do with the subject were selling as fast as they could be stocked. There was even a rumor that it would be taught in a class at Hogwarts next term, a rumor that Professor McGonagall staunchly denied. The Institute was organizing an entire team to do some research into the old spells, and Hermione had been offered a position. She carried the offer letter around with her everywhere, but she refused to answer it until she’d successfully completed her NEWTs.

Harry had also received a letter from Minister Bones herself, informing him that he was to be presented an Order of Merlin, First Class, at an Awards Ceremony during the summer. Harry wasn’t thrilled with the idea of even more publicity, but hoped that after a huge party to celebrate the event all the interest in him and his role would gradually fade away. He hadn’t found the doubtful expressions on his friends’ faces when he’d made that statement very encouraging.

He suspected the examiner tomorrow would want much the same information about the final battle as the previous two, but he was slightly apprehensive about any surprises Snape might have planned. He hadn’t seen much of his Defense professor since he’d awoken from the battle. Not that he’d expected Snape to visit him in the hospital wing, but Hermione had told him that it was Snape who found them and kept him alive in the Chamber.

Despite Madam Pomfrey’s warnings, Harry had taken his painkiller before he was done revising that evening. His side was agonizingly sore, and he needed some relief in order to concentrate. After lying still in hospital for so long, his body was no longer used to all this activity, and he was fighting with his exhaustion while trying to appear as if he were handling everything fine. He didn’t want Madam Pomfrey to stuff him back in that bed. So much for my ‘no hospital wing’ record this year.

Ron and Hermione both looked up when Harry’s head hit the table.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, frowning.

Harry picked his head up, blinking. "What?"

"I asked if you were all right," Hermione said, getting annoyed. She’d started the week in a state, and it was only growing worse after each exam. She had no patience for either Harry’s or Ron’s distractions during her revision time.

"Why wouldn’t I be?" Harry asked, sniggering. He suddenly found the question very funny.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation as Ron chuckled. "Banging your head on the table might maker her think something was wrong, mate," he said.

"Huh?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Ginny moved from her position on the couch over to their table. She was in the middle of her sixth-year exams and had been revising with some her classmates. "Harry, you didn’t take that potion yet, did you? You know how silly it makes you."

Harry looked at her intently, cocking his head to the side. He couldn’t remember when Ginny had joined them. "You’re hair looks pretty," he said, enjoying how the red was streaked with bits of gold in the candlelight.

"Oh, brother," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Harry! How could you? We have a lot of revising still to do," Hermione said, scandalized. "Didn’t Madam Pomfrey tell you not to take that potion until after you were finished with your revision? Didn’t she say that she’d made that dose extra strong? What were you thinking?"

Harry blinked at her, having trouble following her rapid questions. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "It hurt," he said, sniggering again. Absolutely nothing hurt now; in fact, he felt really good.

Hermione flinched, derailed from her lecture. "I’m sorry, Harry."

"Why are you sorry? D’you know I can do this?" he asked, throwing his quill in the air and catching it again before it hit the table.

"Yeah, we’ve seen you do something like that before," Ron said, chuckling. "Give him a break, Hermione. It’s not like there’s a bloody chance in hell he won’t pass his Defense exam, anyway. Go to bed, Harry."

"Language, Ron," Hermione said, scowling her disapproval with both of them.

"I’m hungry. D’you think Dobby has any biscuits that he’d bring here?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling that if he didn’t get some chocolate nothing would ever be right again.

Ginny began gathering Harry’s books and parchments from the table. "Come upstairs, Harry. We’ll get Dobby to bring you some up there."

"Some what?" Harry asked, blinking. His head was buzzing annoyingly, and he was finding it extremely difficult to follow their conversation.

Ginny picked up the rest of his things and began steering him up the stairs, shaking her head all the while. She led him to the seventh-year dormitory and ushered him inside. She marched over to his trunk, stored his books and pulled out some pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. "Here, go put those on, Harry," she said.

Harry took the pajamas but stared at her blankly. "Ginny, d’you know I have to take my Defense NEWT tomorrow?" he asked, shaking his head. He couldn’t understand why he was finding it so hard to focus. "I can’t go the exam in my pajamas."

"Harry, go get changed and lie down. I’ll see what Dobby can send up for a snack, okay?" Ginny said, trying to push him towards the bathroom.

"Snape doesn’t like me," Harry said, chuckling and refusing to budge from the spot he was standing. Ginny’s size was no match for his, and she finally gave up trying to move him. "He won’t think it’s funny when I take my exam in my pajamas. I don’t like him, either."

"You don’t say," Ginny said, again tugging on his arm.

"Nope," Harry said, sniggering. "He has a crooked nose. D’you think it’s been broken? I bet a lot of people want to break Snape’s nose. He doesn’t like me; I wonder if he wants to break my nose?"

"Harr-eee," Ginny moaned. She was panting from the exertion of trying to move him, but her lips twitched. "If you think he didn’t like you before, then you’ll think he absolutely detests you now."

Harry laughed. "You think these pajamas are that bad?" he asked, plucking at the black material.

"Not the pajamas, Harry, you dolt. I had Potions first thing this morning right after the Prophet was delivered with the news about your Order of Merlin," Ginny said, snickering. "You should have seen the look on Snape’s face. Merlin, he was in a foul temper."

"I’m getting an Order of Merlin?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Good grief, what did Madam Pomfrey put in that stuff?" Ginny asked in exasperation. She had to help Harry get into his pajamas, and he was so out of it he didn’t even notice her struggles. When she finally tugged his T-shirt over his head, she called, "Dobby?"

The house-elf appeared with a popping sound. "Yes, Miss Harry’s Wheezy. Dobby is here. What can Dobby do for the great and wonderful Harry Potter, who saved the world from all the bad once again? Dobby knew Harry Potter would do it, yes he did. What can Dobby do for Harry Potter and his Miss Wheezy?"

Harry was fascinated by the way Dobby’s ears moved up and down as he spoke. He reached over and pulled on one; it was much softer than he expected it to be.

Dobby turned his head so Harry could tug on his other ear.

Ginny slapped Harry’s hand away. "Don’t mind Harry, Dobby. He’s had one of Madam Pomfrey’s excellent potions. He’s looking for some biscuits and maybe some hot chocolate. Do you think you could get us some?" she asked.

"Biscuits and chocolate," Harry exclaimed with childlike enthusiasm. He forgot all about Dobby’s ears. "Ginny, that’s a great idea."

"Dobby can do that," Dobby exclaimed with delight.

After Dobby had returned with their snack, Harry and Ginny curled up on the window seat to stare at the stars. "We can’t see Sirius anymore," Ginny commented on the summer sky. The Dog Star was only visible in the winter.

"Nope," Harry replied, munching on yet another chocolate biscuit and trying to catch falling crumbs with his mouth. "I saw him, you know."

"Saw who?" Ginny asked.

"Sirius…and my mum and dad," Harry replied. He hadn’t told anyone about what had happened to him while he was unconscious. He was afraid that he’d be told it was just a dream, and he knew better.

"Yes, we all saw them in the Chamber," Ginny said, taking his hand. "Charlie, too. Sometimes it’s still hard to believe that really happened. Mum cried when I told her about it."

Harry shook his head, and it made him dizzy. "No, this was after. When you lot were trying to dig out from the cave-in, I was with Sirius," Harry whispered. It all seemed so far away and dreamlike now.

Ginny looked at him, startled. She appeared to be struggling with her thoughts, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"I’m glad you weren’t alone," she said, finally.

"Me, too. They said I had a choice to make – whether to stay where I was or to go back to you. They wanted me to go back. They all really like you, Ginny," Harry said, nuzzling the side of her neck.

"What else did they say?" Ginny asked with a hitch in her voice. Her eyes had filled with tears, and she blinked them back.

"Sirius told me to learn how to handle my FireWhiskey better. I think I need some practice," he said, pulling her closer.

Ginny giggled and rolled her eyes. "Right. You’re getting so much better at handling this potion," Ginny said, squealing as he started to tickle her.

They sat in the window until the potion’s effects finally demanded that Harry get some sleep. It was the best night of revising Harry had ever spent.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall the next morning before their Defense Against the Dark Arts examination. Hermione was still trying to get them to talk about potential questions, but they’d long since tuned her out. Once the exams were over, they would have five days off simply to enjoy themselves before the Hogwarts Express would return them to London.

Harry planned on returning to Grimmauld Place with Ron and Ginny, while Hermione was going home to see her parents. The four students were planning on getting together in a few weeks to spend some time at the Bungalow. Abe and Cordelia had invited them to return, and they were all keen to spend some more time at the beach. Harry planned on looking for a place of his own to buy while he was there.

The potion he’d taken the previous evening had ensured that he’d had a good night’s sleep, but he always awoke after taking it with a ravenous hunger. He filled his plate with scrambled eggs and bacon just as the owl post arrived. Harry’s mail was still being screened by the house-elves, but a large barn owl settled imperiously in front of Ron and held out its leg.

Ron removed a piece of parchment with an official Ministry seal. When he unrolled it, Harry saw that it was from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He lowered his head and began to eat quickly. Ron gasped as he read the letter.

"Ron, what is it?" Hermione asked, looking up from her own stack of mail. Hermione had been receiving job offers from all over Britain on a daily basis.

"Ron, what’s wrong?" Ginny asked, reaching over and plucking the letter right out of the hands of her stunned brother. She scanned it quickly before looking up with a wide smile and exclaiming. "Brilliant!"

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"It’s a job offer," Ron whispered, his eyes opened wide in numb disbelief.

"A job offer from whom? Why do you look so amazed? I thought you were applying to the Ministry for the Auror program," Hermione asked, frowning.

"It’s from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They’ve offered me a position as a Quidditch Scout." Ron said, still not moving. "The only way to get a job like this is to be recommended by someone within the Department, but who would have recommended me? Harry, could you reach over and pinch me, please."

Harry complied, trying to cover his grin.

"Ow! That hurt," Ron said, rubbing the tender spot on the underside of his arm.

"You told me to pinch you," Harry replied.

"I didn’t really mean it," Ron snapped.

"Congratulations, mate. I can’t think of anyone who would be better at something like this," Harry said.

"Thanks," Ron mumbled, still sounding dazed.

"Are you going to take the offer?" Hermione asked.

"Hell, yes," Ron replied, looking at her as if she were daft.

"What about becoming an Auror?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"The bad guys will always be there, but this is Quidditch," Ron said, as if that answered everything.

Hermione pursed her lips and returned to her breakfast without comment. Something must have finally clicked in Ron’s head, because he reached across the table and took Hermione’s hands. "What do you think about the offer, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione looked up at him, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. "If it’s what you want, Ron, I think you should take it. It would certainly be much less dangerous."

"I don’t know about that. Quidditch is a rough sport, but I’m glad you’re okay with it. It’ll mean some travelling for me, but I’ll be able to keep an eye on Harry."

"Hey! My days of needing a minder are over," Harry said indignantly.

"Yeah. It’s not like you’ve ever had a Quidditch injury before," Ron said, smirking.

Harry flung a forkful of scrambled eggs at him.

When they finished eating, Ginny stood up and said she had her Charms and Ancient Runes exams. She wished them luck on their Defense NEWT and headed towards her class.

Harry shuffled his feet as he followed along behind Ron and Hermione, trying hard not to look up so he wouldn’t have to catch anyone’s eye. He was tired of the questions. He supposed he still had to take Professor McGonagall’s advice and talk to the press, but he just wasn’t ready for that yet, either. I did what I had to do; why do I have to talk about it?

When they arrived at the DADA classroom, Professor Snape was standing outside the door with his trademark scowl in place. His bottomless black eyes flicked over the trio briefly.

"Well, well, well," he said, staring coolly at Harry and ignoring Ron and Hermione completely. "It’s alive."

Harry knew that was a line from a popular Muggle film that Dudley used to watch, but he couldn’t imagine Snape would know that, let alone make a joke…to him…would he?

"Sir?" he asked, uncertainly.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Ron asked hotly. He and Hermione had both moved up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Harry. After facing Voldemort, Snape really didn’t appear all that intimidating anymore.

"I see you’ve managed to make it through your hordes of misguided fools and admirers in order to sit for your exam. Although, even if you had been late, I’m certain your simpering examiners would have overlooked it. Fame does have its privileges, after all, does it not?" Snape asked, sneering.

This was the Snape he knew – criticizing him for his tardiness despite the fact he wasn’t even late. This Snape he could handle.

"It certainly does; you wouldn’t believe some of the perks," Harry replied with a cheerful grin. Snape would never see him as anything but an arrogant berk; he might as well live up to his unearned reputation. Harry was struck by the thought that the only person more unhappy with the fame and glory he was being showered with was Snape. Who would have supposed they would have ever found something in common?

Snape’s eyes widened as Harry passed him and moved into the classroom. A triumphant gleam that appeared to shout ‘I knew it!’ shone in his dark eyes.

"That was bloody brilliant," Ron said with a delighted grin. "You should have seen the look on his face, mate. He was nearly green with envy. He wants that Order of Merlin so bad he can taste it."

"Although you really shouldn’t bait him, Harry, I must admit that was very satisfying," Hermione said, giggling.

"All seems right in the world if I can still get under Snape’s skin," Harry replied, grinning. "It’s good to know some things will never change."

"I pity the first-years who arrive next term. Snape is going to need a new target; Merlin help any poor sod who arrives wearing glasses," Ron said, grinning gleefully.

They were interrupted by the arrival of the examiner, a stout wizard with graying hair at his temples. "My name is Cecil Everley, and I shall be one of the examiners for your Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT. Please enter the adjoining room as your name is called. After you…I say, is that Harry Potter? Ah, Mr. Potter, I have some questions I’d like to ask you. Yes, yes. Follow me, please," he said, enthusiastically leading Harry towards another door.

Harry was about to roll his eyes at Ron and Hermione when he noticed Snape’s furious expression. The man looked as if he could boil eggs with the intensity of his glare. Plastering the cockiest grin he could manage on his face, Harry winked at his Defense teacher and followed the examiner into the room.

On the night of the Leaving Feast, Harry clicked his trunk shut and stood. His gaze swept around the remarkably uncluttered dorm room. The only times he’d ever seen this room so neat were on the first and last days of term each year. He smiled fondly, his chest feeling slightly constricted. He was having trouble dealing with the fact that this was it for him. Tomorrow, the train would take him away from Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry for the last time.

He knew that he’d miss it terribly. If he forced his mind, he could almost imagine that he was simply leaving for summer break, and he would soon begin his countdown for September the first. The ache in his side or the well-intentioned queries about his future plans always dispelled that illusion quickly.

This was it.

Harry would never return to this place that he’d always considered his real home.

His life began here, really – or resumed here, maybe. It had started with his parents in Godric’s Hollow, then took a ten-year hiatus before starting again when he came to Hogwarts.

He’d come alive here.

He remembered when Hagrid had arrived to collect him from that creaky, rundown shack on the sea. He’d told Harry that after seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he wouldn’t recognize himself.

Harry had never imagined how true those words would be. He was certainly nothing like the wide-eyed, innocent, naïve little boy he’d been then. He supposed part of that was the natural result of aging from eleven to seventeen, but no one could ever claim that his life had been anything close to normal.

He sighed and climbed down the stairs to join his friends. As they walked downstairs to join the Leaving Feast, each was lost in their own melancholy thoughts. Ginny gave Harry’s hand a squeeze, and he smiled weakly.

"No long faces. This is our last Hogwarts Feast together; let’s enjoy it," she said, smiling brightly.

Harry squeezed her hand. "You’re right, Gin. Let’s end this on a high note."

Ron and Hermione beamed; they all squared their shoulders and entered the Great Hall. It was decorated in Gryffindor colors. They took their seats at the Gryffindor table and greeted some of their fellow classmates.

The Slytherin table was the most subdued, by far. Harry could easily read the uncertainly on a lot of the faces. Many of them now had parents who were facing terms in Azkaban. The list of pending trials was staggering. Harry met Blaise Zabini’s eyes across the room, and the Slytherin nodded. Harry wondered how Blaise’s family was faring in the investigations.

Harry had given Minister Bones Blaise’s name and told her that the Slytherin had warned him to expect trouble. Minister Bones had put a note of it in her records. Harry wasn’t certain what else he could do. He thought that maybe now that Voldemort was gone, he and Blaise might even be able to become friendly.

In fact, he was going to make certain of it.

He stood up and began walking towards the Slytherin, Blaise must have recognized his intent, for he stood and moved to meet Harry halfway.

"Where are you going?" Ron demanded, but Hermione held him in place.

"Zab…Blaise," Harry said.

"Harry," Blaise said, almost as if he were testing the name on his lips.

"How are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I’m doing okay. I’m glad to see you’ve finally got out of the hospital wing," Blaise said.

"Yeah. Madam Pomfrey is kind of fond of me; she didn’t want to let me go," Harry said, grinning.

Blaise extended his hand towards Harry. "I’m glad it was you who survived, Pot…Harry."

Harry shook the offered hand. "Me, too. What happens to you now? What are you going to do?"

Blaise shrugged. "My immediate family has stayed out of the investigation so far, although I have an uncle who’s in it fairly deep. My father works for Nimbus, and I’m going to go to work for him."

"Nimbus? As in the racing broom?" Harry asked, his interest level soaring.

"Is there any other Nimbus?" Blaise asked, quirking his eyebrow. "I heard a rumor that you’re going to be playing for England. Any truth to that?"

Harry grinned. "If you’re going to be working for Nimbus, let’s just say we might be seeing a lot of each other in the future."

Blaise studied Harry carefully before returning the grin. "Fair enough. See you around, Harry."

"See you," Harry said before returning to his seat.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, suspiciously.

"Honestly, Ron. The war is over, and we’re finished with school. This house rivalry has to stop. Blaise is okay," Hermione said, glaring.

Ron looked at the determined faces of his girlfriend, sister, and best mate. "Well…we’ll see," he grumbled, but he let the subject drop.

As he ate his dinner, Harry’s gaze swept the head table. Professor McGonagall had donned splendid pale blue robes for the occasion, and the sight made Harry’s heart twinge over Professor Dumbledore’s absence. Harry had felt the loss painfully while in the hospital wing. He’d kept expecting Professor Dumbledore to sweep in and question him about what had happened. The more time that passed without his arrival made Harry slowly come to accept that everything had irrevocably changed.

Harry was finally free, but at such a bitter cost.

He could see Cordelia chatting happily with Hagrid. She’d made a nice addition to the staff, and Potions class was certainly easier to take. Harry supposed that in the next few years, Defense would be everyone’s least favorite class. He hoped that this time of peace would stretch out for years to come. Maybe even Snape would mellow with age.

Harry thought that of everything at Hogwarts he would miss, he’d miss Hagrid most of all. The big man had promised Harry they would get together for lunch over the summer. They hadn’t gone out for a hamburger since Harry’s first year, and Harry was looking forward to it.

At the Gryffindor table, Seamus and Lavender were bickering loudly. They’d both accepted positions with Ireland’s Ministry of Magic, and their wedding was to be held the following spring.

"You’ll all come to Ireland for the wedding, won’t you?" Lavender asked. "Mum and I have so many plans on how we want everything to be. I can’t decide on colors for my attendants; I’m torn between the peach and the rose."

"Oh, the rose would be so lovely in a garden wedding," Parvati said seriously. "I don’t think the peach would look as good on me."

"I told you both that I wanted a small wedding. We don’t need eight attendants each, Lavender," Seamus said hotly.

Harry smirked and turned away. He watched as Dean roughly sketched the teachers sitting at the head table. Dean must have sensed his gaze, for he looked up and caught Harry’s eye.

Dean shrugged and said, "To remember it by, you know?"

Harry nodded. He knew exactly what Dean meant. He wished he could freeze this moment in time, too.

He turned his head towards the doors when a great rumbling filled the hall. Harry’s breath caught when Hannah Abbott strolled in with none other than Neville Longbottom. A smile lit up Hannah’s face, and Neville looked hesitant, but healthy.

The sound of scraping benches filled the Great Hall as students from all four houses rose to their feet and started to applaud. Neville’s cheeks turned red as he gave a slight wave to acknowledge everyone. He kissed Hannah on the cheek and walked over to where Harry was seated.

"Hi, you lot," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Neville," Hermione gasped. "You’re all right. How did this happen? When did you regain consciousness? Are there any side effects? Because you look perfectly healthy!"

"Neville, this is fantastic," Ginny said, beaming.

Neville smiled and sat down. "I woke up two days ago, but I asked the Healers to keep it quiet until I could come back here myself. I missed all my exams, but Professor McGonagall said I could make them up," Neville replied.

"That’s great, Neville," Harry replied. Seeing Neville sitting with the rest of his Gryffindor classmates made Harry feel as if everything was truly going to be okay, after all.

"How did this happen?" Hermione demanded again, nearly leaning across the table in her excitement.

"It was Hannah’s idea, actually," Neville replied.

Everyone stared at him with open curiosity.

"She brought my Mimbulus mimbletonia into St. Mungo’s. She knew how fond I am of it, and she thought it would make the room more cheerful. The Healers don’t know exactly how it happened, but I began to improve the moment she put it on the table beside my bed. It is supposed to have healing properties. They’ve offered me a position on staff in their research department to study the effects. We’re hopeful that we might be able to achieve the same results on others who’ve suffered the effects of the Cruciatus," Neville said, his eyes locking with Harry’s.

"Your parents," Harry muttered.

"Bloody brilliant," said Ron.

"Yeah," Neville responded with pink cheeks. "She is."

Ginny’s and Hermione’s eyes filled with tears as they each pulled Neville into a fierce embrace.

"Welcome back, mate," Ron said, slapping him on the shoulder.

"It’s good to be back," Neville replied.

The train ride home was the most uneventful trip he could ever remember having taken on the Hogwarts Express. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry remained in the Prefect car after the meeting adjourned, and Neville and Hannah joined them there. They played games of Chess and Exploding Snap to pass the time.

It was while they all sat there enjoying themselves that Harry was struck by the fact that Luna wasn’t with them. For the past three years, she had been the sixth occupant of their car during the journey to and from Hogwarts. Harry still hadn’t sorted out all his feelings about Luna.

She’d been the one to reveal his comings and goings to the Death Eaters all year, and the information she’d supplied had resulted in several deaths, including several injuries to his friends. Still, he knew Luna was also a victim. She’d been tricked and used. They’d pinpointed her weakness and exploited it for their own gain. Voldemort had been a master at exploiting a weakness.

Harry remembered his first year and how Voldemort had shown him his parents in the Mirror of Erised. He’d tried to trick him into believing he could be reunited with them. Harry hadn’t fallen for it, but he’d felt the temptation. He wondered if his parents had suddenly materialized before him, as Luna’s mother had appeared to do for her, if he would have had the courage still to resist. Harry thought it might take him a long time to come to terms with Luna’s death fully.

When Neville and Hannah had entered the car, Hannah had chosen a seat in the far corner, as far from Hermione as she could get. Hermione remained pleasant, but very cool and removed from the other girl. Hannah was nice and easy to talk to, and Harry suspected that she and Hermione would have got on swimmingly if it weren’t for the fact that Hannah had dated Ron.

Then again, Harry wouldn’t like to sit in a car with Michael Corner, either.

Ron sat back, smirking, and Harry could tell he was chuffed that Hermione was jealous. Thankfully, Ginny smoothed over the initial awkwardness.

"What are your plans now that you’ve finished your education, Hannah?" Ginny asked.

"Actually, I’m planning on a bit more schooling. I’ve enrolled in a training class at St. Mungo’s that’s beginning in September," Hannah replied.

"Oh? Are you going to become a Healer?" Ginny asked, and Harry could see Hermione perk up in her chair over the idea of further education.

"Not a Healer, but a Potion-maker. Herbology and Potions were my best subjects, and I’m interning over the summer at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley," she said.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "That’s fascinating, and Diagon Alley is so centrally located. You’ll be near everything."

Hannah nodded. "I thought so, too. Susan Bones and I are going to look for a flat nearby. Susan took a job with the Ministry."

"I can’t believe I’ll be returning to Hogwarts all alone while the rest of you are off to start your careers," Ginny said, pouting.

"Don’t worry, Ginny," Hermione said, patting her on the arm. "Ron, Harry and I are going to get a flat in Hogsmeade together, and you can visit us every Hogsmeade weekend."

"And I’ll give you the map and Invisibility Cloak so you can sneak out on non-Hogsmeade weekends," Harry said with an impish grin.

"Harry, I really don’t think you ought to encourage her to break the school rules," Hermione said.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. The danger is over, and we all deserve the chance to live a little," Harry said.

"She can come and visit, but she’s staying in Hermione’s room, " Ron said, as if just realizing what Harry had said.

"You mind where you sleep, and I’ll mind where I sleep, Ron Weasley. Don’t hack me off now, or I might let it slip to Mum how you and Hermione will be in the flat all alone while Harry’s off at training camp," Ginny said in a very low voice.

Ron paled and gulped visibly. "Stay out of it, Ginny."

"Then you do the same, Ron," Ginny replied, not backing down a step.

Harry leaned back and smirked, knowing Ginny could handle her brother just fine.

Things were looking up; for the first time in his life, Harry wasn’t dreading the start of summer. He’d be with Ginny and his friends and had the freedom to do whatever he pleased. It was a good feeling.

When they arrived at platform nine and three quarters, however, and Harry saw the scene awaiting him, his stomach felt as if it had been filled with lead. The platform was teeming with reporters and much more crowded with visitors than he’d ever remembered. He should have listened to Professor McGonagall and given some interviews before he left school.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, staring out the window.

"Can’t we just Apparate from here?" Harry groaned.

"You can’t Apparate on or off the Hogwarts Express, Harry. You’ll just have to get through the barrier somehow, and then you can make your getaway," Hermione said, frowning her concern at the mad rush of reporters.

"Oh, is that all?" Harry asked dryly.

"Come on, mate, you might as well get used to it," Ron said, completely unsympathetic.

"I don’t have to get used to anything. If I can just avoid them long enough, something or someone else will stir their interest," Harry said crossly.

"Yeah, all that Boy-Who-Lived stuff certainly blew over quick, didn’t it?" Ron asked, laughing.

"Not to mention the fact that you’re going to be playing Quidditch for England starting in a couple of months. No reason there for them to want to interview you," Hermione said, linking her hand with Ron and staring at Harry in amusement.

"Shut it," Harry grumbled, scowling at both of them. He turned towards Ginny. "You don’t have to deal with this if you don’t want to, Ginny. I’ll get off the train first, and you can just slip away while I’m dodging them."

"Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. I don’t want to avoid them, I want to be one of them," Ginny replied.

"You’re certainly an improvement over Rita Skeeter," Harry said, grinning, "and easier on the eyes, too."

Ginny laughed. "Just take a deep breath, hold your head high, and be your charming self without really saying anything," Ginny said.

"Harry’s had loads of practice doing that," Hermione replied, laughing. "He usually starts to mumble and no one can make out anything he said, anyway."

"Ho, ho. What is this – pick on Harry day? Ungrateful louts," Harry said with a grin.

"Oh, if only Snape had heard that. There’s that arrogant, conceited swine he was always looking to find," Neville said, clapping Harry on the back.

Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny’s shoulders. "Are you ready to do this, then?" he asked.

"I’m ready," she replied.

Harry transfigured one of the Exploding Snap cards into a Muggle baseball cap and pulled it low over his scar. "Might give us a few extra minutes," he replied, grinning sheepishly.

It didn’t work. The press recognized him nearly instantly and pandemonium ensued.

"There he is," screamed a witch.

"Mr. Potter, just a few questions."

"Mr. Potter, look over here."

"Come on, Harry, just one picture, and I can feed my kids for a week."

"Mr. Potter, is there any truth to the rumors that you’ve joined the Auror Academy?"

"How do you feel about playing professional Quidditch?"

"Harry, look this way."

"Mr. Potter, what are your plans now that you’ve finished your education."

"Is it true that you and the Weasley girl plan to wed this summer?"

"Are you planning on starting a family?"

"Mr. Potter…"

"Here…"

Harry had sprinted as far as he could, pulling Ginny and the cages carrying Hedwig and Delilah along with him. He’d shrunk their trunks and held them in his pocket and told Fawkes to meet him at Grimmauld Place. When the crush of people around him forced him to stop, he turned to face the music.

Ron and Hermione had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, and he made a mental note to hex them for abandoning him. He was certain they were chuckling somewhere within hearing distance. He held up his hand and squinted against the glare from all the flashbulbs. "Hey," he said, trying to get their attention.

"Oh, that was eloquent, Harry," Ginny grumbled.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked in exasperation. The reporters continued to shout questions on top of each other so that Harry couldn’t distinguish a single one to answer it, even if he’d wanted to do so.

Ginny stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled, a shrill, high-pitch sound that made Harry’s ears ring. He blinked in astonishment.

"I love you," he said, and all the reporters easily heard him, since Ginny’s whistle had finally succeeded in getting their attention. They scribbled furiously, and the questions began again.

Harry threw his head back and laughed, really laughed for the first time since Voldemort’s death.

Harry cast a Sonorous Charm to raise his voice and said, "Look, I know you all have a lot of questions, but I have no comment to make at this time. I just want to get settled now that school is done, then I’ll figure out the rest and let you know."

"Just a few questions, Harry," yelled one reporter from the back of the pack. "Tell us how you feel now that you’ve finally managed to kill the Dark Lord."

Harry’s cool gaze locked with the reporter, pinning him with his glare. "I gave a full account of what happened to Minister Bones, and I’ve read the articles that have been written so I know you’re already aware of what happened. I’m very happy to finally have the chance to live without the threat of Voldemort hanging over me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do that."

The questions began again as if they hadn’t heard a word he’d said. Harry sighed, realizing they were only going to hear what they wanted, no matter what he said. He supposed he brought it on himself with his reticence of speaking with the press, but he really didn’t enjoy this. He’d had enough of people telling him what to do and trying to do what was expected of him. If he didn’t want to talk about his private life to a bunch of vultures, then, hell, he wasn’t going to do it.

Harry waved his hand and created a shield around he and Ginny. The noise from the platform was silenced, and any reporter within a two-meter radius was forced back from his shield.

"What did you do?" Ginny asked, giggling.

"I didn’t want to talk to them, anyway," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Let’s get out of here."

As they walked towards the barrier, he saw Remus and Tonks making their way towards them. Tonks was flashing an Auror identification and clearing the reporters off the platform. When they finally cleared the crowd, they pulled Harry and Ginny into a corner before passing through the barrier. They’d had no trouble breaching Harry’s shield.

"I see your habit of making an entrance continues," Remus said, smiling.

"Impressive," Tonks said, nodding her head in the direction of the shield.

Ginny squealed and grabbed Tonks’s hand, examining the shining diamond she wore on her finger. "Tonks, is this…"

Tonks beamed. "Yep. The old wolf wants to make me legal."

Harry turned to Remus. "Congratulations," he said.

"I wanted to tell you in person, but this wasn’t quite what I had in mind," Remus said ruefully.

"So, when is the big day?" Harry asked, waving off the apology.

"It’s a bit up in the air at the moment. There are still laws against our getting married under wizarding law, so we’re looking into Muggle alternatives. It depends on how quickly those laws might change," Remus replied.

"Change?" Harry asked, still fuming that any such laws existed in the first place.

"Well, you’re looking at the new Head of Magical Creature Relations within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Remus said, a hint of color staining his cheeks.

"What?" Harry and Ginny asked in astonishment.

"It seems Minister Bones feels the best way to improve relations between wizards and magical creatures is to have someone who lives in both worlds in charge. I think Minerva put in a good word, as well," Remus said.

"Not to mention he’s the best man for the job," Tonks said, wrapping her arm around Remus’s waist. Her hair was a violent shade of orange that clashed horribly with her red shirt.

"It seems things are improving already," Harry said, clapping Remus on the back. "What’s this about not being able to marry, though?"

"Nothing to worry about, Harry. Remus is working on changing that law already, and I don’t mind being a scarlet woman for a while," Tonks said, with a grin.

"I mind you being a scarlet woman, so we’re thinking of getting married in a Muggle ceremony for now," Remus answered, frowning at Tonk’s cocky grin.

"Let’s all get back to Grimmauld Place. Those reporters won’t be held off forever, Harry. Everyone wants a piece of you," Tonks said with a grin that caused Harry to blush.

"Well this is one pie I’m not sharing," Ginny said, scowling.

Laughing, they all Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

As Harry lay back in his bed at Grimmauld Place, he looked around the large, luxuriously decorated bedroom he now called his own and reflected on how much his life had changed. He’d certainly come a long way from the unwanted little boy who’d been hidden away in a cupboard.

Remus had insisted that he should finally have his own room, and he’d spared no expense in decorating this one in a way he thought Harry would enjoy. Even though Harry was planning on moving out and renting a house in Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione in September, Remus said this room would always be here for him.

Harry had told Remus that he and Tonks should keep Grimmauld Place for themselves; Sirius would have wanted it that way. Harry could picture the rest of the Black family rolling in their graves over the fact that a werewolf was now master of their ancestral home. The thought caused Harry to smile, just thinking it.

The Order was still using Grimmauld Place while it rounded up the last of the Death Eaters, and Harry still had to remain on guard, since so many of them wanted to take their revenge on Harry. Still, for the first time in his life, he had real freedom. He could take Ginny for a walk to the ice cream shop on the corner if he wanted, whenever he wanted, and buy whatever he pleased. The novelty of that still hadn’t worn off.

His health was improving, and he only had to take a few potions now, rather than the dozen he’d been on when he first regained consciousness. After a few weeks of rest and relaxation when he joined Abe and Cordelia at the beach, he’d be good as new. He was planning to see Ginny off on the Hogwarts Express on September first and then head to training camp the following day.

Things were finally starting to click into place in his life. The enormity of what he’d done still stunned him at times, but being surrounded by so many friendly and supportive faces always pulled him through. For the first time in his life, he was finally starting to live.

A gentle "pop" startled him, and he peered out from the hangings around his bed. In the dim candlelight, he recognized Ginny’s slender form standing just inside his doorway. She wore a flowing white nightgown, and her hair was spread around her face like a glimmering halo.

"Merlin, you’re beautiful," he said, breathing heavily.

"Apparation has its advantages," Ginny said, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "I just wanted to give you a kiss good night."

"Well, come over here, then, woman, and give me that kiss," he demanded.

Ginny’s hips swung seductively as she walked across the room. She gently perched on the side of his bed, leaned over and gave him a searing kiss that left him gasping for breath. Before he had the chance to collect his scattered senses, she gently bit his lower lip.

"Don’t tell me what to do," she scolded playfully.

Harry grinned. "Someone has to tell you what to do, Ginevra Weasley. Merlin knows what kind of trouble you’d get into otherwise."

"Trouble like this," Ginny whispered, leaning over to kiss him again.

Harry wrapped her in his arms and pulled her down beside him. As had happened so often in the past when he she was near, time lost all meaning as he focused solely on the soft curves of the fascinating creature in his arms. He waved his hand to snuff out the candle.

That night, for the first time in over a year, Harry Potter slept peacefully without a single qualm about keeping the light burning.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it and it tied up all the loose ends. A one-chapter epilogue will follow.

Thanks must go to my wonderful beta, Mistral, who kept me on track and made sure you had an update each week. She also calmed my nerves when I began to doubt things at the end. Thanks, Mistral.

The first scene in this chapter with Harry loopy on the pain potion was written specifically for my pre-beta, Dianne, who has been a wonderful source of support and encouragement while I was writing this piece. She wanted to see that scene. I hope it was worth it, Dianne.

Remus is still a werewolf, Neville’s parents are still unconscious, Ron still mistrusts all Slytherins, and Professor Snape is still a git…but I couldn’t have too much of a happy ending, lol. As far as I’m concerned, that prophecy means Harry is unable to live happily until Voldemort is destroyed, but once he is….things have to look up for Harry so the prophecy can be fulfilled completely.

I hope you all enjoyed it; I’ve had a ball guesstimating what I think might happen. I can’t wait to read HBP and see if I hit on anything. You readers and reviewers have been awesome, and I really, really appreciate all your comments and support. You’ve been wonderful.

If after HBP you’re looking for other reading, Wizard Tales is now posting Power of Emotion, and I’ve been getting a kick out of hearing comments on my "old" story again. Thanks to all you made appearances during the chats, I had a ball. In fact, I’m generally hanging around in the chat room on Sunday nights if anyone is still up for biding our time until HBP.

Order of Merlin, First Class

Harry tugged on the collar of his new dress robes, scowling at his reflection in the mirror that hung in his room at Grimmauld Place. His robes were colored scarlet in honor of Valentine’s Day – a holiday he’d long since decided had a personal vendetta against him. He’d never once had much luck with it.

He was dressing to attend a formal gala at the Ministry, where he was to be presented with the Order of Merlin for his role in defeating Voldemort just over a month earlier. Minister Scrimgeour had decided that since love had ultimately defeated the Dark Lord, it was only appropriate to commemorate the occasion on the day honoring love.

‘Balderdash,’ Harry thought sourly. It was yet another publicity stunt designed to show the Ministry in a favorable light. He’d been perfectly blunt that he wanted no part of this ceremony, but no one had listened to him. Everyone thought it would be a wonderful way to spend the holiday. Mrs. Weasley had even insisted that everyone go out and get some stylish new dress robes.

Harry reckoned Valentine’s Day was celebrated in February to lighten up the gloom and doom of the long winter months. He also reckoned the whole thing was a load of mating dragon’s dung. He’d spent the previous Valentine’s Day apart from Ginny while hunting down one of Voldemort’s damned Horcruxes, but it hadn’t lessened his love or longing for her one iota. He didn’t need any special day to make him love her any more than he already did.

All was quiet at Grimmauld Place, although he knew Remus and Tonks were both there and getting dressed for the evening.  Remus’s laughter at Harry’s distemper had only succeeded in further annoying him.

Harry had only just returned from a fortnight spent on holiday with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and several of the Weasleys. He’d been critically wounded in the final battle, and the Healers suggested some time away would do him good. Upon his return, he’d moved in with Remus and Tonks at Grimmauld Place. Its proximity to St. Mungo’s was convenient for Harry since he was still recovering and spent a lot of time at the hospital.

He’d been having the time of his life at the beach with his friends and was extremely put out at having to return for such a ridiculous occasion. He also felt very anxious over the fact that he would have to give some sort of acceptance speech in front of all those people. He just wanted to regain his strength, spend some time with Ginny after having to be apart for so long, and begin his Auror training. Was that really so much to ask?

He sighed with exasperation as he again tried to fix the collar of his robes.  He wished Ginny were here; she never had any problem getting things to look the way they were supposed to look.  His own renegade hair would even lie flat for her – something he’d never been able to accomplish. He remembered how she’d helped him get ready for Bill and Fleur’s wedding even though he’d been trying to avoid her at the time. Although she hadn’t uttered a syllable as she’d adjusted his hair and robes, her eyes had spoke volumes; the pain he was causing her was written all over her face.

A snort of laughter behind him caught Harry’s attention, and he turned to find Tonks standing in the doorway wearing a thoroughly amused expression.

“Where did you find that,” she asked, pointing at his uncharacteristically bright robes, “Madam Malkin’s Underground for Secret Lotharios and Cassanovas?”

“Oh, you’re one to be laughing at me,” Harry replied, scowling.  “I’m not the one standing here with orange hair and fluffy pink dress robes.”

Tonks’s robes appeared as if they were filled with air and floated around her trailing little pink hearts made of tissue paper as she walked.

“One of us had to be bright and cheerful…although I suppose you are bright enough, but no one will mistake you for cheerful,” Tonks replied, cocking one eyebrow.  “Those dress robes are certainly…unique, Harry. Not at all what I’d picture you wearing, but I like them. It’s not like everyone won’t know you’re coming, anyway.”

“Oh, ho,” Harry snapped.  “Ginny said they reminded her of Gryffindor and that I should just play the part. I don’t know what I was thinking letting her talk me into this. I feel ridiculous.”

“You are so whipped,” Tonks replied in a sing-song voice.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Touché.”

“I really don’t see why we all had to come back for this,” Harry grumbled, waving his arms in the air and causing more fluffy pink hearts to fly around Tonks’s outfit. “Why do they have to make such a big production about this award, and why would people want to go to something like this on Valentine’s Day? I don’t. There were plenty of other people there. Why aren’t any of you lot getting awards? It’s not right.”

“Oh, get off it, kid.  This self-deprecating act is getting really old. You are the hero; we are the sidekicks. People want you to live the part of the hero. There’s nothing more romantic than celebrating the victory of the hero. Deal with it,” Tonks said, poking him in the chest on each point.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to get up in front of a star-struck mob to spill your guts about one of the worst days of your life when they’ll really be daydreaming and wondering how far my tan reaches,” Harry exclaimed, exasperated.  He’d stopped reading the Daily Prophet altogether after seeing an article on a supposed mystery tattoo he’d received while on holiday. The speculation on where his tattoo might be was enough to make Harry’s skin burn.

Tonks squealed in delight. “How far does your tan go?” she asked, tugging at the waistband of his trousers.

“Cut it out,” he yelped, slapping her hands away.

“Don’t worry about the speech, just imagine everyone in the audience wearing their knickers.”

Harry’s eyes widened like saucers. “What?” he asked.

“It’s an old Muggle trick my dad taught me,” Tonks replied, grinning.

Harry rolled his eyes. “With my luck and my habit of performing accidental magic under duress, I’m liable to really Vanish everyone’s clothes.”

“I’m certain there’s never been an Order of Merlin ceremony like that. I think I’ll go change my knickers, just in case. I wouldn’t want to be caught in plain old white cotton,” Tonks said, biting her lip.

“Oh, shut it, Tonks,” Harry said, unable to control the blush he knew she was trying to cause.

She grinned and ruffled his hair. “Come on, kid. Hurry up and get ready. You want to look good when Ginny arrives.”

Harry slumped down on his bed and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can go, Tonks. I’m really not feeling very well. I think I might have over-done it on holiday. Couldn’t you just tell everyone that I’m ill?”

“Nice try, Potter, but if you really didn’t feel well you’d never admit it.”

Harry groaned.  “Fine.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’d say.”

“Ho, ho”

“If you don’t finish dressing, I’m telling Ginny when she arrives and sending her up after you. I’m going to tell her you tried the old ‘I don’t feel well’ trick, too,” Tonks said.

“You wouldn’t,” Harry replied, aghast.

“Try me.”

“You give new meaning to the term wicked stepmother,” Harry muttered as Tonks left the room.

“I heard that,” she shouted. “Better watch your step or I’ll start calling you Harriella, too.”

**--**--**

When Harry finally came down the stairs, he found Remus and Tonks already waiting in the entrance hall. Remus was dressed in sleek gray robes with a deep red waist-coat underneath.  He looked the epitome of style and grace next to Tonks’s over-the-top vivid color. Harry smiled at the mismatched, perfectly-compatible pair.

Ron and Hermione were also present and festively dressed, standing in a corner and chatting with Ginny, who wore white robes overlaid with a sheer red material. It was Fred and George who really caught his attention, however, causing him to shake his head to be certain that his eyes were working properly.

The twins were both dressed in short white robes baring an indecent amount of their legs. They’d strapped golden wings to their backs, and each carried an actual bow and arrow. It was as if Cupid had been cloned and the experiment had gone horribly awry.

“Harry, old chap,” George said, causing all the attention in the room to focus on Harry, “glad you decided to join us. Tonks here told us you’re in a funk about having to take part in this festive occasion.”

“What on earth are you wearing?” Harry asked, unable to wrap his mind around anything else.

“D’you like it? It’s part of our new Cupid collection. The arrows really work and are dipped in just a touch of our patented love potion,” Fred said. “Guaranteed to help you land the wizard of your dreams.”

“Because no one can tell the difference between real feelings and those brought on by a love potion,” Ginny said, crossing her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes.

“Now, while it’s true that a love potion makes one act much more obvious than normal, we’ve found desperate witches don’t care much when it comes to Valentine’s Day,” George said.

“There’s no better opportunity for an eager and available bloke,” Fred said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Too right. Someone has to offer comfort and appreciation to all these love-starved witches,” George said, blinking innocently.

“And you two are right there, out of the goodness of your hearts. Is that it?” Ginny asked, shaking her head, although her eyes sparkled brightly.

“We consider it our duty,” Fred replied.

“Good grief,” Hermione said, groaning. “I can’t believe any witch in her right mind would fall for that load of –”

“Hermione!” Ron yelped.

“Unfortunately, I could see it,” Ginny said, patting Hermione’s hand consolingly. “Just think of, say…Lavender Brown.”

Ron’s ears turned red as he suddenly found a candlestick on the mantle the most interesting thing in the room.

“All right,” Remus said, smiling patiently. “Are we going to attend this function or not?”

“Speaking of that,” Fred said, patting Harry on the back, “Tonks here tells us you don’t want to attend this evening’s festivities.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a party without the guest of honor,” George said.

“And I’d miss my dancing partner,” Ginny said, slipping her arm around Harry’s waist and squeezing gently.

“I’m going,” Harry said, grumbling. “I just think it’s rather rude of them to assume this is how we want to spend Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, so on any other day you’d be up for it then?” Hermione asked, smirking.

“Sod off,” Harry said, scuffing his toe on the ground.

“Exactly what else would you like to be doing?” Ginny asked, arching a delicate eyebrow.

Harry felt a pleasant fluttering in his stomach as his insides seemed to bubble and churn like molten lava. Grinning cheekily, he reached into the pocket on the front of her robes, removing her wand. He waved it with a flourish, producing a bunch of perfect red roses.

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny gasped, taking the flowers.

Harry flushed, pleased. He’d remembered Mr. Ollivander doing the exact same thing with Fleur’s wand before the Triwizard Tournament.

“I’d like to spend the evening with you – alone,” he whispered, “without having to dodge the press and the rest of the wizarding world all evening.”

“Oh, I don’t want to hear this,” Ron said, groaning and causing Hermione to whack him in the stomach with the back of her hand.

“Tonks also informs us that you’re worried about your speech,” George said, grabbing a besotted Ginny by the arm and pulling her away.

“Oh, she did, did she? She’s just a wealth of information, that one. It’s no wonder the Ministry is in such disarray,” Harry said, glaring at Tonks, who promptly stuck out her tongue.

“She also happened to mention her solution,” Fred said, removing his wand from its holster, “and we’ve developed the perfect solution. This is going to make us a load of Galleons.”

“Oh, no!” Harry said, taking a step back and waving his hands in the air. “I’m not going to be a test subject for anything you two have to offer.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Ginny said, once again moving toward him and resting her hand on his forearm. Her feather-light touch sent tingles shooting all the way up to his shoulder. “I already know what they’re going to do, and you have nothing to worry about.”

Harry cocked his head and stared at her dubiously.

“Trust me,” she said, smiling. “I think you’ll appreciate the laugh.”

Although he really didn’t trust the twins, he did trust her, so he warily nodded to Fred.

Fred tapped his wand on Harry’s glasses, muttering unintelligibly and stepping back with a wide grin.

“What did you do?” Harry asked, blinking spots from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he shut his eyes tightly before opening them again slowly. He felt his jaw drop and his gaze swept the room, his mind refusing to believe what he saw.

He stood in the entryway at Grimmauld Place, surrounded by his friends – his family – who were all standing there in their undergarments. He felt color flooding his face as the temperature in the room began to rise steadily.

Ron and Hermione stood near the fireplace, smirking at him. Ron wore burgundy boxers similar to those Harry had seem many times before in the Gryffindor dormitory while Hermione had on a simple white bra and knickers. Feeling sweat beading up on his forehead, Harry quickly averted his eyes only to discover Tonks wearing a glaring orange thong with a pink bra made of the same floaty hearts as on her dress that barely covered everything it should. Remus stood next to her, wearing black boxers and frowning slightly.

Harry realized he was staring at the same moment he heard the twins’ raucous laughter. He snapped his eyes away from Tonks and toward them, forcing his mouth shut. The sight of the identical Weasley brothers made it drop open again.

They wore shiny gold pants – the size of which made him think they belonged to Ginny rather than Fred or George, and like Tonks, the material was barely containing them. Harry tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling the heat from his flaming body. He knew he could easily give any Weasley a run for their Galleons with his flushed coloring.

When he finally turned his head in bafflement to look at the girl standing next to him, his knees literally buckled. Ginny struggled to keep him on his feet, giggling all the while.

“Something wrong, Harry?” she asked, blinking innocently enough to let him know she knew exactly what was wrong.

He struggled to control his breathing and keep his hands to himself while three of her brothers remained in the room. Ginny stood next to him – supporting him – while wearing a pair of lacy red knickers and matching bra. He could see the freckles that had long fascinated him on her throat and shoulders continued down into more forbidden territory and his fingers itched with the need to trace them.

Any moisture in his mouth instantly evaporated, and he was left feeling as if he was about to swallow his own tongue. The lacy edges of her undergarments tantalized his fantasies, and he suddenly found himself incapable of drawing a breath.

“All right, enough of that,” George grumbled, whipping the glasses off of Harry’s face and leaving him staring at a blur of distorted colors.

“Finite,” George muttered sourly, slamming Harry’s glasses back into his hands a bit more roughly than necessary.

“We developed this to help you with your speech, you great prat, not so you could ogle our sister,” Fred said, his arms flexed and crossed over his chest.

Harry blinked a moment, unable to form a coherent thought, and stared at the others in the room. Although the twins appeared disgruntled, the others looked amused, and Ginny was nearly bursting trying to control her giggles.

“See anything you like, Harry?” she asked.

“I – what – er…red is good,” he mumbled stupidly, his eyes still roaming hungrily over her now fully-clothed body.

“Red!” Ginny shrieked, her grin becoming gleeful as it stretched across her face. She was bouncing on her feet as she twirled around. “Harry, my dress robes are white. D’you honestly think I’d be wearing red knickers?”

Harry stared at her uncomprehendingly, still trying to reign in his scattered thoughts. The memory of those red undergarments appeared to have been permanently etched on his brain.

“Think of how the Muggle trick works,” Hermione said, apparently taking pity on him. Fred and George were still scowling, and even Ron had lost his amused scowl at the mention of Ginny’s red knickers. “You imagine people in their underwear, right? But you don’t actually see their underwear.”

“I…oh,” Harry said, his eyes flying open wide as he realized what he’d revealed.

“It’s all in your head…or what your subconscious would imagine we’d be wearing. If the spell had been cast on Ron, I’m certain he’d see me in pink knickers with the days of the week printed on them,” Ginny said, snorting. “So…you like red, eh?”

“All right!” George shouted. “Obviously this isn’t going to work.”

“We try and do a good deed to help out a mate, and what does he do? Turn around and take advantage of the goodness of our gesture by perverting our baby sister,” Fred said, shaking his head.

“I –” Harry said, running a hand through his hair, lost for words.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Ginny said, still sniggering.

“What did my knickers look like, Harry?” Tonks asked, grinning.

“All right, the fun is over,” Remus said, stepping forward and coming to Harry’s rescue. “We’ve had our fun, but it’s time we move along to the Ministry. Harry’s just going to have to muddle through his speech on his own. It appears your imagination is vivid enough to get you through it.”

Harry’s head shot up to see Remus covering a grin. He took Tonks by the arm and led her toward the door. Tonks’s laughter trailed behind them as they moved outside where they could Apparate.

“We’re going to have to work on that Charm – somehow make it anti-Weasley proof or something,” Fred said, scratching his chin.

“Absolutely. All right, we’re off to console the bitter and lonely masses of witches,” George said, his good humor returned. “Oh, and Harry…you’d best watch it. We owe you.”

Harry, who’d finally recovered his composure, raised his chin in defiance. “Is that a challenge? Don’t take putting yourself up against the son of a Marauder lightly.”

Fred and George stared at one another in that odd way they had of silently communicating with each other. Both raised their shock of red eyebrows, their eyes glinting mischievously.

“Ahh, but mate, we know your weaknesses and exactly how to exploit them,” Fred said. “Ta!”

The two moved toward the door before Harry’s words stopped them.

“And I’m on good terms with your mother.”

Fred and George stopped for a moment before getting hung up in the doorway by the bow and arrows strapped on their backs. They struggled for a moment before finally pushing their way through. They stared back at Harry for a moment, their brows furrowed, before turning and silently making their departure.

“They left without getting the last word,” Ginny said, stunned. “They don’t usually do that.”

“I think they’re still rattled by Harry’s obvious enjoyment of their prank,” Hermione said, apparently delighted to see a prank of the twins’ finally work against them.

“About that, Harry –” Ron said.

“Oh, grow up, Ron,” Hermione said, pushing him toward the door.

“Come on,” Ginny said, taking Harry’s hand and grabbing her roses with the other. “Let’s walk in with our heads held high. Love your red robes, by the way.”

“Do you really?” he asked, suddenly feeling cheeky.

Ginny furrowed her brow. “Of course, I do. I picked them out, remember?”

“Hmm. I thought you would’ve chosen a color in honor of the day,” he said, struggling to control the twitch in his cheek.

“A color… but Harry – red is the color of Valentine’s Day,” she said, baffled.

“I was thinking more of green…green as fresh-pickled toad, perhaps?” Harry said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Ginny stopped walking, frozen in place. Her eyes flew open wide, and Harry suddenly feared he’d gone too far. He’d never teased her about her old crush in the past – he’d never even mentioned it, actually.

“You remembered?” she asked softly, her voice sounding more wondering than angry.

Harry’s playfulness melted into a pool of tenderness. “’Course I remembered. It was the only Valentine’s card I’ve ever got. I still have it in my trunk somewhere.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said, sniffling a little. She leaned over and kissed him softly, her eyes glistening in the candlelight.

“Are you two coming?” Ron shouted from somewhere outside.

“Nope, no green. Red is definitely our color,” Ginny whispered, taking his hand again.

Harry allowed her to lead him from the room. Suddenly, the prospect of the night no longer seemed so bad. After all, he had a lovely warm thought powerful enough to fuel a hundred Patronuses. With that thought, he could certainly handle one little acceptance speech.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Epilogue

Fifteen years after the fall of Voldemort.

Molly Weasley sat in a rocking chair in the garden of the Burrow. The chair creaked slightly, but it was comfortable and reminded her of the chair she’d used to rock her babies in when they’d been small. That chair had been ruined during the war when the Burrow had been attacked. Her red hair had faded to white, and she’d cut it in a shorter, more manageable style. Deep laugh lines surrounded her eyes and mouth, and she sighed in contentment as she looked around the garden.

Today was the annual Weasley Family Picnic, where all of her children and grandchildren returned to the Burrow to reminisce and remember how good it was to be alive. The sounds of children’s laughter and rowdy play danced on the wind, bringing Molly back to another era, when her own kids would play Quidditch in the meadow.

Of course, the Burrow itself was much larger and grander than it had been back in the day. After Voldemort’s defeat and Arthur’s promotion at the Ministry, the Weasleys had rebuilt the Burrow. At least, they’d built a home on the grounds of their former home. Molly had planned her new home around a large and well-used kitchen. The greatest source of life and family unity had always been that first kitchen, and Molly wanted that aspect of her life back. She had made her new kitchen much larger and ensured that everything had its place, but most important of all, she’d kept the family table right in the center of the room.

She’d learned more tidbits about what was happening in the lives of her children as she puttered around that kitchen and they all sat chatting at the table than anywhere else. They’d get so involved in whatever they were discussing that half the time they’d forget she was even there. Who had needed Extendable Ears, anyway?

Molly could see Arthur attempting to cook something on one of those ridiculous outdoor Muggle cooking contraptions. He scratched his head in bemusement, but she could see the delighted set in his step as he tried to figure it out. Every year was the same, and every year he ended up starting a fire that ended up being the Annual Weasley Bonfire.

She smiled fondly. Despite years of supervising the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Arthur had never lost his passion for all things Muggle. It was only one of the reasons she still loved him so. As if sensing her gaze, Arthur turned to her and waved cheerfully.

"All right, dear?" he asked.

Molly’s legs had been giving her trouble lately, and she found it difficult to move around too much. She’d promised Arthur that she’d prop herself in her chair for the day and let her family come to her. Of course, she knew that if they got out of hand, she’d have no trouble marching over to put them all in their place. I still haven’t lost my touch, she thought proudly.

"I’m fine, Arthur; I’m just pleased we got such a wonderful day," Molly said smiling. Every year, she panicked over the thought that the weather would spoil the picnic and they’d all have to crowd indoors. Even with the house so much bigger, with the number of Weasleys expected here on this day, it would be very crowded if they were forced inside.

Every year she stressed over it, yet year after year the weather had always cooperated gloriously. She couldn’t ask for a better day, and she’d begun to suspect some kind of divine intervention.

"I told you not to worry, dear," Arthur said. "Everything would work out just fine, I believe is what I said."

Molly smiled at her husband’s gentle face. The years may have taken the hair from the top of his head completely and lined his face with the passage of time, but his spirit was still the same. His soft-spoken nature hid his steely resolve, and he’d earned the respect of all those Ministry workers who served him so faithfully.

"That you did," Molly replied. "Mind your grill, dear; I think it just caught fire."

Arthur turned in time to see a bright orange flame burst through the top of the black cover. "Oh, dear," he said, rushing back and waving his wand to try and lessen the flames.

Molly knew if she looked around closely, she’d probably find one of the twins sporting a wide grin and tucking his wand back in his pocket. She knew neither Fred nor George would ever let the bonfire tradition die.

"Some things never change," Bill said, chuckling and sitting down next to his mother. He planted a kiss on top of her head and asked, "Are you having a good day, Mum?"

Molly smiled at her eldest. He’d long since cut his hair, but the earring that Molly had spent years fighting with him over still hung from his ear. She still couldn’t understand how Gringotts let him get away with that. Like his father before him, Bill’s hair was thinning on top.

"I’m having a lovely day, Bill. Where’s Jacqueline?" Molly asked.

"She’s changing Teddy. I think we’ll be sending that kid to Hogwarts in nappies," Bill replied, only half-joking. Bill and Jacqueline had married shortly after the war had ended and had four sons of their own. Their eldest, Charlie, was ready to begin his first year at Hogwarts in September.

Molly laughed. "Now, Bill, don’t give him a hard time. You weren’t all that easy to train, yourself."

"Thanks, Mum," Bill said dryly. "Looks like Dad is ready to start burning some food."

"Don’t worry, Dobby and Winky will be bringing out the real dinner shortly," Molly laughed.

Dobby had followed Harry after he moved out of Grimmauld Place, and Winky had joined them when he bought his first home. They always helped Molly out arranging the family reunion. Molly enjoyed having them around for such a big party, but didn’t think she would ever like to give up control of her kitchen completely.

As if on cue, Dobby and Winky appeared and began laying plate after plate of delicious-looking creations on the table.

"Oh, did I pick the right seat?" Bill asked, gleefully rubbing his hand together.

Ron and Hermione walked over a moment after the food appeared. Ron had never lost his voracious appetite, and his metabolism still hadn’t caught up with him. Molly suspected that Ron didn’t eat at home the way he ate when he visited the Burrow. Hermione had never really taken to cooking, no matter how many times Molly had tried to teach her.

"Mmm, what smells so good?" Ron asked, leaning over and kissing Molly on the cheek. "This looks great, Mum." Of all her children, Ron still had the most boyish exuberance about him. He was the first to get down on the floor with all his nieces and nephews, and he always drove his sisters-in-law crazy with the way he wound up all the children. He and Harry were a pair that way.

After Hogwarts, Ron had taken the job as Scout for the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry and remained there to this day. He obviously loved his work, and from what Molly had heard, he had quite a flare for it.

Hermione sat down next to Ron. "Hi, Mum. Hi, Bill," she said, smiling. "David and Seth are in the meadow with your boys, Bill."

"Has Harry got them playing yet?" Bill asked with an easy grin. Having an uncle who was a professional Quidditch star ensured a passion for the game. Harry still played for England, although he’d been toying with the idea of retiring ever since his last injury. He said his body couldn’t take those kinds of blows anymore, but everyone else said they’d believe it when they saw it.

"I couldn’t watch," Hermione said, covering her eyes. "They go so high."

She and Ron had married within a year of leaving Hogwarts, although they’d waited a while to start a family. Hermione had taken a research job at the Institute, working on old magic spells and adapting them into modern spellwork. In typical Hermione fashion, she’d exceeded all expectations and was now head of her department at the Institute.

When they’d finally decided it was time for a family, they’d had two sons, David, who was nine, and Seth, five. Each son was remarkably similar to one of his parents. David was bright and intellectual; Molly often had to stifle her laughter at the stunned expression on Ron’s face when his son would say something exceptionally deep or beyond Ron’s grasp. Seth, on the other hand, was all Ron – athletic and gregarious with a quick temper and constant foot-in-mouth disease. With Seth, it was Hermione who was constantly at the end of her rope. Molly enjoyed watching the two of them trying to parent the boys. Her mother had always told her that grandchildren were the ultimate payback.

"Come on, now, Hermione. David will be starting at Hogwarts in another couple years. What are you going to do when he tries out for the Gryffindor team?" Bill asked with a smirk.

Molly watched as Ron covered a grin. He knew his brother was winding his wife up, but he was enjoying it. Ron and Hermione had never lost their love of bickering, but Molly knew it was done fondly.

Hermione raised her head in the air. "I’ll worry about that if it happens. David might not want to play Quidditch."

"He will if he’s a Weasley," Ron mumbled, and Hermione shot him a glare. "Ron Weasley, you’ll be proud of him no matter what he decides to do. This is not about your choices, its about David’s," Hermione huffed. She wore her hair much shorter these days, and it looked much more sophisticated than it had when she was at school. But on days like this, when the humidity was high, the bushiness returned and small ringlets of curls appeared all around her face. Molly thought it looked very pretty, but Hermione just kept pushing them out of her face.

"Ahh, Dobby, could you give that one to Mr. Weasley please?" Molly asked, pointing to a plate of raw hamburgers. "Those are for him to burn."

"Oh, yes, Messess Wheezy. Dobby will tell him to flame them up right," Dobby exclaimed, bouncing on the souls of his feet.

Molly saw Hermione scowling at Winky, who was quietly placing plates on the table and staying well out of Hermione’s reach.

"How are you today, Winky?" Hermione asked, bending her head so she was at the tiny elf’s level.

"Winky is fine, miss. Winky loves the Wheezy picnic," Winky answered, bobbing her head.

"You know, Winky, if you would only accept pay and some time off, you could have more time in the sun without having to work," Hermione said.

Winky’s ears rose to the top of her head, and she quickly placed the last of her items on the table. "Winky is a good elf; Winky is not accepting pay. Winky does not want to go back to a life of shame, no, no, no." The house-elf turned and ran back inside the Burrow.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "The life she’s living now is the life of shame," Hermione huffed in exasperation.

"Hermione, will you give it up, already? Do you have to torment her every year?" Ron asked, sighing and shaking his head. Everyone – Ron included – knew he was fighting a losing battle. Hermione and Winky locked heads every year, and it always ended the same way, with Winky returning to the Potter house in tears, refusing to see Hermione again until the following year.

When Winky had joined Harry and Dobby, Harry had offered to let her keep her freed elf status or to join the household traditionally. He said Dobby had told him that the only way to pull Winky out of her depression was to return her status to her. Winky had jumped at the chance and had been much happier ever since. Hermione had been furious with Harry, and they continued to bicker about it to this day.

"That’s enough," Molly said. "Can’t we get through one year without having to calm a hysterical house-elf? How are your parents doing these days, Hermione?"

Hermione reluctantly tore her eyes away from where Winky had disappeared. "Oh, they’re fine, Mum. They’re considering retiring, but I honestly don’t think they’ll ever really give up their practice. Maybe scale it back a bit, but they love it too much. I think they’d drive each other crazy without the distraction."

"I can understand that," Molly said, laughing. "Oh, look. Percy and Rose are here."

They all turned to see Percy and his family striding towards them. "Sorry we’re late, Mother. Young Percy had a piano lesson."

After the war, Percy had had a hard time reconnecting with the wizarding world. He’d left his job at the Ministry a year after the fall of Voldemort. He had been unable to earn the trust of many of his co-workers after his close allegiance with both Crouch and Fudge, and he felt trapped and stifled there. It was Minerva McGonagall who had given Percy a lifeline. She’d offered him the open Transfiguration position at Hogwarts, and Percy had jumped at the chance. He’d been there ever since.

He’d met Rose on a Hogsmeade weekend. She worked as local barrister, and the pair had hit it off instantly. Of all her daughters-in-law, Rose was the one with whom Molly found the most difficulty connecting. She was pleasant, although rather aloof, and Molly had the impression that the full Weasley clan overwhelmed her. Still, Molly thought Rose was a much better match for Percy than Pricilla Fudge had been. Percy and Pricilla had parted ways soon after the end of the war. Rose seemed much better suited to Percy, in Molly’s opinion.

They had one son – Percy Ignatius Weasley II. Percy had only wanted one child so that he could give him everything that he didn’t have as a child. Molly adored her grandson, but thought he was rather spoiled.

"Don’t worry, dear; we got a late start, anyway. Sit down, Rose. Have something to eat," Molly offered.

"David and Seth are in the meadow with Uncle Harry," Ron told his nephew. "Why don’t you tell them there’s food here?"

Percy nodded and trotted off towards the meadow, while Percy and Rose joined the rest at the table.

"Percy, Rose. It’s good to see you," Jacqueline said, emerging from the Burrow with a newly-changed Teddy on her hip.

"Hello, Jacqueline," Rose said. "How are you?"

"We’re good. It’s nice to be home. We’re taking Charlie into Diagon Alley to get his supplies one day next week," Jacqueline replied.

She and Bill had been living in Egypt since the end of the war. Gringott’s had offered Bill a position in their London branch, but his heart had always remained back with the Pyramids. She suspected that Jacqueline had wanted to move away and start over, anyway.

Molly had hated to see them go, particularly when the grandchildren had started to arrive. Bill and Jacqueline had visited frequently over the years, and Molly always had one or more of the boys come to stay at the Burrow in the summer.

"Oh, how exciting," Hermione said. "I remember how fascinating it was to get all those new things. Of course, Charlie’s been raised in a magical family, so it’s not quite as extraordinary as it was to me, but it’s still exciting. I can hardly wait for it to be David’s turn in a couple years, although I hate the thought of him being so far away," Hermione said with a frown.

Molly remembered how difficult it had been to let each of her children go that first time, but never quite as wrenching as it had been with Bill on that very first drop-off when he had turned eleven. The first one was always the hardest.

"Poor kid has to have an uncle for a teacher, though," Ron said, grinning good-naturedly at Percy. "How embarrassing is that? At least he’ll get good marks in Transfiguration."

Percy looked down his nose at his younger brother. "I resent the implication that I’d treat any student differently, relative or not," Percy said with an indignant air. He soon lost the battle to hide his grin, however, and he added, "I’m no Professor Snape."

"I can’t believe my own kids are going to be subjected to that git. You’d think he would have mellowed some by now," Ron said, shaking his head.

Percy snorted. "Not a chance. You should see the torment he puts poor Jamie through. I think he’s making him pay for both his father’s and grandfather’s transgressions."

"And I doubt David will fare any better when he goes," Bill said, laughing gleefully. "Charlie won’t have it easy, but not as bad as your kids. Snape never hated me as much as he did you, Ginny or the twins."

"Don’t forget, David will get Snape’s hatred for me and Hermione together," Ron said. "It’ll be nearly as bad as it is for Jamie. The bitterness he has for all of us is through our connection to Harry; the twins earned his loathing all on their own," Ron said.

"Whose hatred have I earned so spectacularly?" asked Fred, joining them at the table. He and George had made Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes a household name, and both now lived a very extravagant lifestyle. Fred sat down, wearing a lime-green shirt so bright it caused Hermione to squint. Fred responded by removing a pair of very expensive sunglasses and handing them to her without comment.

Fred had been the last of all her children to marry, but when he did, he’d ended up marrying one of his original girlfriends very quickly after finding her again. Fred had reconnected with Alicia Spinnet when he’d landed himself in St. Mungo’s after some disastrous tryouts on a new product. Alicia had been the Healer assigned to tend him, and the two married shortly afterwards.

Fred still ran the shop in Diagon Alley, while George ran a sister shop in Hogsmeade. George had married his long time girlfriend Katie Bell, and Katie handled the extremely large mail order catalog of WWW products.

Despite her initial misgivings over the career path the twins had chosen, Molly had to admit that it had worked out very well. WWW was a thriving success, with locations spread worldwide. Their old friend Lee Jordan was running a shop in Amsterdam, while his sister, Vivian, was managing the Paris shop. Molly liked to tease them that they opened a new shop every time they came across an old friend in need of a job. In truth, she thought their generous nature was one of their most endearing qualities.

When Molly had her children, she had expected them all to be boys – all the Weasleys were. As Ron liked to say – mostly while tormenting someone else – Real men make men. Ginny had been the first and only Weasley girl born into the Weasley family in generations. All of Arthur’s brothers had had sons, Arthur had six sons of his own, and all of them had sons. Except the twins.

Never ones to follow any kind of rule, Fred and George, of course, broke Weasley family genetic traditions, as well.

Fred and Alicia were the parents of identical twin daughters, Pandora and Uzume. The girls were four, and every bit as mischievous as their father and uncle had been. Alicia frequently looked on the edge of madness, while Fred seemed to take the girls’ shenanigans as evidence of his own knack for mayhem.

George and Katie had five children, four girls and a boy. Their son, Liam, was the youngest and a favorite of his Aunt Ginny. Ginny thought of Liam and herself as kindred spirits, both being the youngest and the sole opposing sex in a large family.

"Snape’s," Ron, Bill, and Percy all answered Fred’s question in unison.

Fred’s expression turned sour. "Urgh. Is he still giving Jamie a hard time? At least Charlie and Tori will be there next year to spread out the targets."

"I can’t believe there will be three Weasleys at Hogwarts," Hermione said. "Poor Professor McGonagall won’t know what to do with herself. And she’s in for it for years to come."

"I hope there is still some food left," George said, joining his siblings at the table. Now that they were adults, it was easier to tell Fred and George apart. George had grown rather rotund around his middle. Molly was happy to see that at least one of her daughters-in-law could apparently cook a decent meal.

"There’s still plenty here, George. Where is everyone else? Have they finished with the match?" Molly asked, peering towards the meadow.

"Yeah, they all smelled the food. They’re putting their brooms away. What’s this I heard about Hogwarts? Tori is already packed. She’s just like her mother, that one. I never packed until the night before we left – at the earliest," George said. He and Katie’s oldest daughter – Victoria – was also scheduled to start at Hogwarts in September with her cousin, Charlie.

"Which is why I always had to send everything you forgot by post owl," Molly said tartly.

George smiled wistfully. "Those were the days. I’ve told Tori everything she needs to know about how to get into a bit of mischief while she’s there. I can hardly wait to get my first owl telling me what she did," he said, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

"Ooh, tell me when it comes," Fred said, delighted. "I want to send her a Howler in the Great Hall. She’ll know it really means congratulations, won’t she?"

"Of course she will. She’s my flesh and blood, isn’t she?" George replied, smacking his brother on the arm.

"Fred, George," Hermione said, scolding them. "You’re the parents this time. You’re not supposed to be wishing for her to get in trouble. You’re supposed to encourage her to stay in line and mind her revision."

Expressions of mixed horror and revulsion crossed the identical faces of the twins. "Where’s the fun in that?" they asked simultaneously.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation, muttering something that sounded like incorrigible under her breath.

From the corner of her eye, Molly watched as Ginny, Katie and Alicia got all of the children settled in over by Arthur at the children’s table. She looked up in time to see her only son-in-law sitting down next to Ron.

Harry was wind-swept from the Quidditch match and looked perfectly comfortable holding a baby in his arms. As usual, Molly was struck by how much Harry had grown since she’d first met him on the train platform, and the significance tugged at her heartstrings.

He looked peaceful and happy. He’d matured, and the laugh lines were visible around his eyes, but he was healthy and had kept his youthful energy. She suspected that playing a game for a living had something to do with that. Although he’d certainly put on some weight and his shoulders had filled out, he was still on the slender side. Molly had heard Ginny complaining about it bitterly.

"He eats enough for a small army and never gains an ounce – instead, the calories go right to my arse," she had grouched to Hermione, causing the other girl snicker in amusement.

Molly thought back to that first summer after the war, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all moved out, declaring their independence yet clinging to each other and their childhood at the same time. They’d wanted to be independent adults, but they’d wanted to do it together.

Harry had just been through hell on earth, and the other two hadn’t been ready or willing to leave him on his own, so they’d rented a house in Hogsmeade together. They had originally planned on getting a flat, but after Remus had decorated a room of his own for Harry at Grimmauld Place, Harry hadn’t wanted to go back to sharing. Molly really couldn’t blame him. He’d waited until he was an adult to have something of his very own; he shouldn’t have to give it up.

Ron and Hermione had married a few months later, but Harry stayed with them – at their insistence – until Ginny had finished at Hogwarts. Harry had been playing Quidditch on the English team, and they actually went on to win the World Cup that August. The entire Weasley family had traveled to Norway for the game.

Harry and Ginny married a month later and bought a home on the English border, near Ron and Hermione, who had remained in Hogsmeade. Molly had been extremely worried over Harry’s mental state for a while there – he’d done the craziest things, and Ginny had gone right along with him. Once, they’d strapped Muggle contraptions to their backs and actually jumped out of a plane. They went on African safaris, Himalayan mountain climbs, Austrailian deep sea dives – anything to drive her mad.

They’d visited Charlie’s old dragon reserve in Romania, and Harry had actually ridden bareback on a dragon. Molly had been beside herself when she’d heard. What had that boy been thinking? When a small group of witches and wizards were called together to try and strengthen the wards around Loch Ness, Harry had volunteered to go with them. Whenever Nessie got too frisky it had to be done again. This time, the committee had tried to reason with the beast about Muggle concealment. Honestly, how they expected to communicate with that creature was beyond her. Harry, of course, volunteered immediately. Molly secretly suspected he’d been cheering Nessie on the whole time, however.

Molly thought her days of worrying would be over after the war – but not with those two. Even now, they still loved their adventures.

They’d found a summer home on the beach near Abe and Cordelia. All of the Weasleys had spent time there throughout the years. That same home had been added to many times since they originally bought it, but it was still theirs. It was a beautiful, quiet place with its own stretch of private beach. Harry had completely lined the driveway up to the house with yellow bricks. When Molly asked about it, he’d simply grinned and said it was a Muggle thing. Molly let it go, but Hermione had found it hysterical.

Harry had immediately raced out and bought himself a speedboat. They’d got one of those Muggle contraptions that they’d jumped from the plane with, strapped it to the back of the boat and pulled people along. Molly thought they were ridiculous, but Arthur had actually tried the ruddy thing. Molly would never forget the day she arrived to see Ginny driving the boat and pulling Harry behind her with a rope and a board strapped to his feet. Molly had thought Ginny was angry with him until she realized Harry was whooping with glee.

Ginny had begun writing a column for Witch Weekly after she finished school. She’d also written a full account of what happened during the war, as well as Harry’s memoirs. The public had never lost interest in their hero, despite Harry’s fervent wishes that they would. Ginny had also reapplied herself to learning to become an Animagus. Molly would never forget the day she’d Apparated over the Potters’ on a whim to see if Ginny wanted to do some shopping and found a full-grown tiger pinning Harry to the floor in the kitchen. After Molly had screamed, the tiger had morphed back into her Ginny, apologizing profusely while laughing hysterically all the while.

After she’d aged a bit and started having children of her own, Ginny had begun writing a series of articles about being a member of a large family that had struck a chord with a lot of people. So much so that young girls often wrote her for advice on how to deal with a particular problem. Ginny loved the letters and often used them as fodder for new articles.

She was now quietly working with Minister Bones on putting together some notes in order to write her story. Amelia had been Minister of Magic since the end of the war, and Ginny had approached her with the idea of writing her biography. Minister Bones had been impressed with the way Ginny had written Harry’s story, so she’d readily agreed.

It was Harry and Ginny who had given Molly her first grandchild. Molly would never forget the euphoric feeling the first time her grandson had been placed in her arms. Ginny – so confident about most things – had completely panicked when St. Mungo’s had released her and the baby to return home. How can they just let me leave with him without so much as a guidebook? I’m the youngest, remember? How am I supposed to know what to do?

Molly had moved in with the young family for an entire week until Ginny nearly pushed her out the door and back to the Burrow. Molly would have moved in permanently to stay with her new grandson if Ginny had let her. She’d forgotten what it was like to have that baby smell – that intoxicating aroma of powder and warmth and sweetness all mixed together in one adorable package. Molly could have spent hours just counting his fingers and toes and watching each little expression that crossed his innocent face.

James Arthur Potter had been born at St. Mungo’s, despite his insistence on arriving early. His parents almost hadn’t made it to hospital in time. He looked just like his father, with a mop of messy black hair and stunning green eyes. His grandmother – Lily Potter – must have had strong genes, for every single one of her grandchildren had inherited her eyes.

Harry had been beside himself with wonder and awe. Watching his amazement over his newborn son had been powerfully emotional to watch. The baby – Jamie – gave Harry the one thing he had craved all his life – a family of his own. Harry went right out and bought the boy his own broomstick before he was even out of hospital.

The twins arrived two years after Jamie, Cedric Rubeus and Sirius Remus, both identical redheads. Ginny had wanted to name one after Charlie, but since Bill had already used that name, she decided that she’d just use the letter C. Harry had suggested Cedric, and Ginny thought it was fitting.

Harry and Ginny had just become comfortable in their parenting role by the time the twins arrived to completely throw them again. Molly would never forget how she’d walked into the Potter house to find the savior of the wizarding world completely overwhelmed by his children. He’d stood in the hallway with Jamie hanging on his leg, screaming, "Play wif me!" while he held a screeching infant in one arm and tried to clean spit up off the shoulder of his Quidditch uniform with the other. Molly still chuckled in amusement over that memory.

Both twins inherited their parents’ love of adventure and their father’s penchant for getting into trouble. Ginny had learned enough healing charms to become a Healer herself by the time they were five. Molly had to admit – she enjoyed watching her daughter and Harry struggle with the same kind of worries they had once put her through. She always thought it was a good thing that Harry and Ginny had remained friendly with Neville and Hannah, who had also married and had children of their own. Hannah ran the local Apothocary and always kept Ginny well-stocked with healing potions.

After the twins, Harry and Ginny’s first daughter was born, Lily Ginevra. Like her grandmother and namesake, she was a redhead. Molly enjoyed watching the dynamics of the mother/daughter relationship between Ginny and Lily. Lily was strong-willed and gave her mother a harder time than any of the boys. Molly was vividly reminded of her own relationship with her daughter.

Lily was the apple of Harry’s eye and could do no wrong, so it was often left to Ginny to pull her crew in line. In fact, on plenty of occasions Molly had seen the same pleading look in Harry’s eyes as the children’s when asking for something. He’d never really had the chance to be a child; therefore, he lived through a lot of experiences for the first time with his own kids.

Molly could see Ginny rolling her eyes at him, but she saw also the tender joy in Ginny’s eyes that he was able to experience these things at all. It had taken Harry a while after the end of the war to recover emotionally. In fact, Ginny had said that even to this day he was occasionally plagued with nightmares. When Harry had begun playing Quidditch with the English team, he’d thrown himself into the game. No matter what he did – whether it be Quidditch, or travelling with Ginny, or caring for his children – he did it full force.

All his young life had been spent living as if he were dying, so now that he was finally free, he took nothing for granted. Everything he experienced was appreciated and enjoyed, and he left no doubt about how happy he was to be alive. It made the people around him continue to be very protective of him, not that he couldn’t handle himself, however.

When Ron had tried to use his "Real men make men" line on Harry, Harry had quickly responded with, "Real men have enough control to give their woman what she wants." Ron hadn’t used that line on Harry again, although he continued to torment Fred and George.

Harry and Ginny’s next child had been another boy, whom Harry wanted to call Albus. Ginny absolutely put her foot down on that one. She didn’t want to use the name Albus, although she did like the idea of naming a child after him, so they settled on Brian Ronald. Harry had even asked Abe to be Brian’s godfather, a role Abe delighted in having.

After Brian, Jonathan Charles arrived much earlier than expected. He’d had some breathing difficulties when he first was born and gave all of them quite a fright. Molly would never forget the look on Harry’s face as he sat in hospital, waiting for word on his infant son. He’d already suffered so much loss, but the idea of losing a child of their own nearly destroyed both him and Ginny. Molly knew from experience that there was nothing worse than losing a child; it went against the natural order of life, and she prayed it was something none of her own children would ever have to endure.

Jonathan had eventually recovered and was able to go home after an extended stay at St. Mungo’s. Both Brian and Jonathan looked like Harry, with dark hair, although Brian’s had streaks of red when the sun hit it.

Finally, their last child – the one currently sleeping in Harry’s arms – was born. She was another daughter, and it seemed Harry and Ginny had finally run out of people to name her after. They decided simply to choose a name that they both liked, and thus dubbed her Joanna Molly. They weren’t certain where the name Joanna came from, but somehow, it just seemed fitting.

Ron liked to tease Harry that only he would keep having kids until he had enough to stock his own Quidditch team. Harry quite liked the comparison and began saying he did it intentionally.

Joanna, who was now just over a year old, slept peacefully in her father’s arms, gently sucking on her thumb. Harry expertly maneuvered around the table, filling a plate with chicken and various other fixings. Whenever Harry and Ginny had a child at Joanna’s age, Molly had always been forcefully reminded that this was about the age Harry had been when he’d lost his parents. It always gave her a renewed sense of pride and respect for the young man he’d become.

"How’d the game go, Harry?" Ron asked through a mouthful of food.

"Good," Harry said, beaming. "We’ll have the Gryffindor team stocked with Weasleys in no time. Keeps me in shape for whenever the coach lets me off the bench."

"You’re still not playing?" Bill asked. "How’s your hip doing, anyway?" Harry had crashed spectacularly in his game against the Czech Republic, when their young Seeker had plowed into him and knocked his broom from his grasp. Harry had tumbled to the ground from an impossible height, breaking nearly every bone in his body in the process.

"It’s fine, just a little stiff. The coach is just being overly cautious. I’ve been coaching a couple of the young reserves in the meantime. Coaching is okay, but I’d much rather be involved in the game," Harry replied, still carefully loading his plate. He immediately tried to redirect the conversation off of him and his injuries and back towards the game the grandchildren had just played in the meadow. "Some of those midgets are looking pretty good. I think Charlie and Jamie will make the team without a problem in a year or two. The Gryffindor line-up hasn’t been very strong in years. Ravenclaw is the team to beat at the moment. Those kids should eat a good supper; I know I’m starving."

Ginny moved beside him and slipped her arm around his waist. "Never mind the fact that they’re all exhausted from playing so hard and should sleep well tonight," she said.

"Think they’ll go to bed early?" Harry asked in a low voice, waggling his eyebrows. He obviously had forgotten Molly was sitting with them, or he never would have said that out loud. Despite his thirty-three years, Harry was still a fairly modest person compared to the rest of her crew.

"Bugger, Harry. Haven’t you got enough kids already?" Ron asked, grumbling.

"Language, Ron," Hermione said, smacking him on the arm and grinning at Harry and Ginny. "How are things at the Ministry, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Remus’s new anti-defamation legislation is just about to go through. He’s been pushing this thing for so long, and I think it’s finally acceptable to everyone involved. It’s always give and take with that kind of stuff, you know? I met with some representatives of the vampire population through Ivan, and they’ve finally signed it. It’s amazing to see the vampire community finally coming together and working with one another."

Remus and Tonks had originally married in a small Muggle ceremony, and Harry had stood as Remus’s best man. After Remus had removed the marriage restrictions for werewolves and other magical creatures under wizarding law, he and Tonks had reaffirmed their vows. They’d never had children, but treated Harry as their surrogate son, therefore spoiling his children. Tonks insisted she wasn’t the motherly type and was afraid to spread her gene pool, and Remus had feared passing on his Lycanthropy to a child. It wasn’t what Molly would have chosen, but they seemed happy and were very close to Harry and Ginny. In fact, Harry often used his public image to help Remus with his agenda.

"Amelia asked me to address the Wizengamot about the new law, so that’s supposed to take place sometime within the next fortnight," Harry said. "I don’t know why she keeps asking me to do these things. I mean, I know I was the contact with Ivan, but it’s not like I did anything."

Molly watched as Ginny covered a grin. Amelia Bones had been grooming Harry to be the next Minister of Magic for the past several years; Harry was the only one who appeared not to know it. Molly knew he’d be elected without a problem. There were nearly enough votes at the Weasley family picnic alone to ensure his victory.

Harry had spent a great deal of effort shielding his children from everything that had happened in his young life. He’d wanted them to know ‘Daddy’ before they heard about ‘Harry Potter’. He’d been very successful with it, too, until Jamie had begun at Hogwarts the previous year. Now, he was frequently being asked questions and forced to address issues he’d rather not remember. Molly supposed that if he were going to enter the public life again, it would be best for his kids to learn about his past from him, rather than the history books.

"Daddy, will you push me on the swing, pleeeeaaase," Lily asked, batting her big green eyes and wiggling her little hand into his larger one.

Harry looked down at the plate he had just finished filling but had not yet had a bite and sighed. "Okay, Lily, come on," he said, shifting Joanna in his arms and leading Lily toward Ginny’s old swing that still hung on the oak tree.

"I wanna swing, too, Daddy," Brian said, following at his heels.

"No, my turn. My turn, Daddy," Jonathan yelled, jumping on the balls of his feet around them.

Harry merely waved his hand, and the branch holding the swing extended. Once it was long enough, several more swings appeared. "Okay, climb on," Harry said. As they did, he again waved his arm, and all the swings began moving higher and higher.

Ginny laughed as she watched her husband and more and more of his nieces and nephews joined him. Harry simply kept adding swings to the branch. "The Pied Piper strikes again," she said.

Hermione grinned. "Uncle Harry’s always good for a distraction. Pull up a seat, Ginny, and relax."

"Thanks. Great party, Mum. The kids are having a ball," Ginny said, smiling gently at her mother.

Ron leaned over and grabbed the chicken from Harry’s uneaten plate.

"Ron," Hermione said, scowling at him.

"Wha?" Ron asked through a mouthful of chicken.

"Harry’s going to want that; he hasn’t eaten anything. Leave some for him," his wife said.

"Will you quit worrying over what Harry’s eating? You know he hates when you do that. Besides, Dobby can always bring him more," Ron said, taking another bite of Harry’s chicken.

Ginny groaned, and the rest of the siblings began moving away from the table, knowing the can of worms Ron had just opened.

"Ron! You most certainly will not give Dobby or Winky anything else to do. I can’t believe Winky is still working without pay after all these years. I cannot understand why Harry still refuses to see that it would be better for her self esteem if she were a paid worker," Hermione said, color rising in her cheeks.

"Jeez, Hermione. She doesn’t want to be paid. Her self-esteem was at its lowest point when she was getting paid, remember? She was pissed by noon every day," Ron said, swallowing the last of Harry’s dinner

Arthur’s grill was a raging inferno at this point, and the family began to make their way towards it and away from the bickering Ron and Hermione. The sky was growing dark, and Dobby had brought out plenty of marshmallows for the children to toast.

Fred and George began a fireworks display using the latest Weasley Whiz Bangs, and the family settled themselves around the bonfire on conjured blankets to watch the show. Harry placed the sleeping Joanna in a basket and sat down next to Ginny, wrapping his arms around her. Little Jonathan was on her lap, struggling to keep his eyes open, and it wasn’t long before the rest of their children gathered around them on the blanket.

Ginny smiled at Harry over Lily’s head, and his eyes sparkled at her when he returned her grin. Molly shut her eyes and rested her head back on her chair. This was the way it was supposed to be, and she said a silent prayer for many more Weasley Family Picnics for years to come.

Author's Note: Well, that’s it, folks. I hope you enjoyed. I had the best time thinking about this epilogue and what should have happened to everyone. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the song "Live Like You Were Dying" by Tim McGraw, but that is how I picture Harry living the rest of his life.

I asked my seven year old son for his opinion on several things, including Harry’s career (which I’d already chosen but was happy his answer concurred.). He said Harry should play Quidditch for England. Remember, Connor is a Quidditch freak.

I asked him how many kids Harry and Ginny should have, and he came up with the number seven so that Harry could have his own Quidditch team. I thought that was pretty funny so I went with it. I know I’ll probably get some grief from those that don’t like to see Harry and Ginny with a bunch of kids, but…tough. I like it that way, and no one deserves a family more than Harry.

My middle son has an obsession with the Loch Ness Monster, lol. I make up stories for him about a lake near here, and he thinks that’s where Nessie lives (he’s not old enough to get the idea of how far Scotland is). Anyway, that’s why Nessie had to be included here.

I can’t even tell you how much I laughed when you all begged me not to kill Harry. Most of you were worried about Ron, but I had plenty of comments about Harry. As if! I won’t even LOOK at a fic that does that, and I’m remarkably good at sniffing them out. If I even suspect it a little, I cheat and peek. So sue me. Harry doesn’t deserve that, and quite frankly, after investing all this time and energy into the series – I don’t either!

This never would have been possible without the wonderful help, guidance, advice, and assistance from my wonderful beta, Mistral. I’ve learned so much from you, and really, really appreciate all the time and effort you put into this huge project for me. Thanks, Mistral.

We’re just about ready for HBP, and I can hardly wait. Enjoy it, only one more after this one. Sniff.