The Greatest Power by WriterLady

Summary:

A sixth-year fic begun pre-HBP, this fic begins where Order of the Phoenix left off. As
Harry lies in his bed in Privet Drive, guilt-ridden and devastated, Voldemort finds an
"easy in" to the young wizard's mind. How will Harry withstand the attacks, and as his
role in the war becomes clearer and more vital, will he rely on the strength of his friends
as he seeks a way to vanquish the Dark Lord forever?

Categories: Harry Potter Characters: Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, Albus Dumbledore,

Arabella Figg, Arthur Weasley, Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, Bill Weasley, Draco
Malfoy, Dudley Dursley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter,
Hermione Granger, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lucius Malfoy, Luna Lovegood, Minerva
McGonagall, Molly Weasley, Mundungus 'Dung' Fletcher, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black,
Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Percy Weasley, Peter Pettigrew, Remus
Lupin, Ron Weasley, Rubeus Hagrid, Severus Snape
Archive Challenge: None
Classification: General Fan Fiction
Crossover Classes: None
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Character Death, Mild Language, Mild Violence
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 31 Completed: No Word count: 142573 Read: 2111 Published:
02/13/2011 Updated: 04/01/2011
Story Notes:

This is a reposting of a story written long ago and under a different penname.  I am
making some minor revisions to it, and will be posting it as I get those revisions
completed.

This story is a work fanfiction based off of characters and settings created by J.K.
Rowling.  No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

1. Chapter 1: In the Night by WriterLady

2. Chapter 2: Reflections by WriterLady

3. Chapter 3: Almost Nothing Left by WriterLady

4. Chapter 4: In Excellent Care by WriterLady

5. Chapter 5: Off the Radar by WriterLady

6. Chapter 6: Assigning Blame by WriterLady

7. Chapter 7: Protection Gone Astray by WriterLady

8. Chapter 8: Coming Back by WriterLady

9. Chapter 9: Learning the Truth by WriterLady

10. Chapter 10: Occlumency Again by WriterLady

11. Chapter 11: A Birthday In the House by WriterLady

12. Chapter 12: Under Siege by WriterLady

13. Chapter 13: O.W.L.s by WriterLady

14. Chapter 14: The Journey Home by WriterLady

15. Chapter 15: Draco's Choice by WriterLady

16. Chapter 16: The Sorting Hat's New Song by WriterLady

17. Chapter 17: A Surprise Attack by WriterLady

18. Chapter 18: Tempers Fly by WriterLady

19. Chapter 19: A Child No More by WriterLady

20. Chapter 20: The First Mark by WriterLady

21. Chapter 21: Old Fires, New Flames by WriterLady

22. Chapter 22: Trials, Triumphs, and Training by WriterLady

23. Chapter 23: Defense and the D.A. by WriterLady

24. Chapter 24: Truth and Consequences by WriterLady

25. Chapter 25: Giant Mistakes by WriterLady

26. Chapter 26: Progress All Around by WriterLady

27. Chapter 27: Reward to the Faithful by WriterLady

28. Chapter 28: Christmas at the Burrow by WriterLady

29. Chapter 29: Half of One by WriterLady

30. Chapter 30: Learning to Live Again by WriterLady

31. Chapter 31: Draco's Christmas by WriterLady

 Chapter 1: In the Night by WriterLady
Author's Notes:

"Potter!" Vernon Dursley snarled through the closed door to Harry's bedroom at
Number Four, Privet Drive. "Boy! Get up!"

Harry did not need a wake-up call; though it was just after dawn, he had been up
for hours. He was sitting, still in his oversized pajamas, watching the beginnings
of the sunrise over the horizon of Little Whinging. Sleep had not come easily to
him since his return to his aunt and uncle's house three days before; in fact, it
had come hardly at all.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon insisted. Harry sighed wearily and crossed the small
bedroom to open his door.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"Have you written your letter yet?"

Harry could not register what exactly his uncle was on about so early in the
morning. He stared at his uncle uncomprehendingly. "My...letter?"

"Don't play stupid with me, boy. It is time for you to write to those freaky friends
of yours so they don't come barging into my home!"

At this, Harry remembered the warning given to Vernon by the members of the
Order at King's Cross Station. They had said if they did not hear from Harry for
three days in a row, they would be coming to check on him. Uncle Vernon had
been repulsed by the entire lot of them, and (although he would never admit it)
completely intimidated by Mad-Eye Moody. Harry knew that the last thing his
Uncle wanted was for any of them to be seen by his "normal" neighbors on Privet
Drive, and had been lectured all the way back from the train station on what
exactly would happen to him if any of the "freaks" came to call.

"No, Uncle Vernon. I haven't written to them yet."

Vernon reached into the pocket of his plaid bathrobe and thrust a black ink pen
and a pad of Grunnings memo notes into Harry's hand. "Get to it, boy. I want to
read that letter before you send it, and mind you, do not even think of implying to
them that we have been anything less than satisfactory. Keep in mind that we are
the ones who have kept you your entire life, and you should be grateful."

Harry stared at the memo pad in his hands, suppressing a mirthless chuckle at
the thought of Mr. Weasley's amazement at the laser-printed Grunnings logo on
the top of each small sheet. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"I have to dress for work. I want that letter finished by the time you come down to
breakfast, and you had better hope it is written to my satisfaction." With a final,
purple-faced glare at his nephew, Vernon turned away and stalked back down the
hall to his bedroom.

Harry sat down at the small desk in front of his window, set the notepad aside,
and pulled a roll of parchment and a quill from the top drawer. He thought for a
moment before he began to write; he had his own reasons for not wanting
visitors from the Wizarding world.

Dear Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley,

Things are fine so far. The house has remained calm, which is good. As Hermione
and Ron will know, we were set quite a lot of homework for the holidays and I
have started work on it.

Please tell Hermione and all of the Weasleys I said hello, and I hope their holiday
has started off well.

Harry

Harry read carefully over the short letter several times. Finally convinced that
there was nothing in it that would alarm anyone, he set it aside on his desk, got
his clothes and a towel, and headed for the shower. Another day had begun.

Uncle Vernon read Harry's note as he sipped his morning coffee, and then
handed it to Aunt Petunia, who immediately pursed her lips and held it gingerly,
as if the very parchment Harry had written on might be contagious. Harry did not
look at either one of them. Instead, he concentrated on rearranging the small
portion of scrambled eggs on his plate so that it would look as though he had
eaten some, not that any of the Dursleys would notice or care.

"Fine. Go upstairs immediately and give this letter to that bird to deliver, and it
had better be fast about it, too," Uncle Vernon stated, pushing the parchment
back at Harry and disappearing behind his newspaper.

Grateful for the opportunity to leave the glaringly clean kitchen, Harry took the
parchment back up to his room. Waking Hedwig gently, he tied the note to her leg
and asked her to take it to headquarters, where he knew that at least one person
in the Order of the Phoenix would be there to receive it.

His duty done for the day, Harry lay on his back on this bed and stared at the
small crack on the ceiling in his bedroom, trying desperately to keep his thoughts
off of the Department of Mysteries and the devastating hole in his life where
Sirius had been. He focused on the beginning of the crack and began counting
backwards from one thousand, moving his focus slightly along with each passing
number. This was the only way he had found that he could stop his thoughts from
spinning out of control and consuming him, the only way he had found to keep
himself sane.

If Ron or Hermione could have seen Harry, they would have been quite alarmed.
The truth about Harry's stay with the Dursleys was quite different than what he
had implied in his letter. Yes, things were calm, but they were anything but "fine."
Citing the episode with the dementors the previous summer, Uncle Vernon had
confined Harry to his room, save only to take care of his hygienic needs and for
meals, so that no one or nothing could find him. Petunia had told him that Harry
was safe, and therefore so were the rest of them as long as he was inside the
house, and Harry was no longer allowed to leave. Period.

Harry had only left his room on a few occasions since his arrival, the weight of
his depression so complete that it often rendered him unable to move. He had no
appetite, and in only three days he had lost enough weight for his baggy jeans to
become even baggier. He rarely slept, and there were dark circles underneath his
eyes. Anyone looking at Harry Potter would never have guessed that he was only
fifteen years old. The despair in his green eyes made it apparent that he had been
through more in his short life than most adults would ever have to go through. He
was near his breaking point. He knew it, but he could just not find it in himself to
care.

***

Remus Lupin sat at the long table in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place,
carefully perusing the Daily Prophet for any sign of Voldemort's whereabouts.
Not, he reflected, because the idiots who ran the paper would actually know
where Voldemort was building his stronghold, but because one of Voldemort's
greatest powers lay in the subtle and insidious way that he injected his
poisonous presence into the world. Many of his machinations would be
imperceptible to someone who did not know what they were looking for.

Hearing a soft tapping at the door, he crossed the room and opened it to find a
snowy owl with a small roll or parchment tied to its leg. The owl floated gracefully
down to land on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

"Hello, Hedwig," Remus said softly, taking the letter from her and offering her a
link of the sausage he had made that morning. "Are you taking good care of
Harry?"

Hedwig hooted through her mouthful of sausage in what seemed to Remus to be

a sad sort of way then flew out the kitchen door towards the window through
which she had entered the house.

After quickly reading Harry's note, Remus sighed heavily, his pale face
registering even greater sadness. He knew Harry was not fine. How could he be?
Remus was possibly the one person in the world who could understand how
profoundly Harry was feeling the loss of Sirius, and far from reassuring him,
Harry's short, impersonal letter made him worry even more about the boy. If only
they could bring him back here, among people who cared for him. But
Dumbledore insisted that Harry's safety was his most important concern, and that
Harry could not leave Privet Drive until after his sixteenth birthday.

The kitchen door opened and Molly Weasley entered the kitchen in her flowered
dressing gown.

"Morning, Molly," he greeted her. "How did you sleep?"

"Oh, fine, just fine, although I could hear Fred and George getting up to
something in their room until late last night. I am not sure if I dare ask them what
they're on about this time." She turned to flash him a weary smile and noticed the
small bit of parchment in his hands. "Remus, have you got a letter from Harry? Is
he quite all right?"

Remus wordlessly handed her the note and her smile faded as she read it. "That
poor child," she whispered. "He should not be alone at a time like this! Maybe if I
talk to Dumbledore again..." She trailed off, knowing that talking to Dumbledore
would not change Harry's present situation.

"Now, Molly, Harry has said nothing to indicate that he is being mistreated."

Molly frowned. "Do you really think he would tell us? I'm going to send Arthur to
check on him straightaway." She made for the kitchen door, her thoughts of a cup
of tea forgotten.

"I don't think that would make things much better for Harry right now." Catching
the worried creases on Molly's forehead, he added, "I am sure he would tell us if
they were mistreating him. I know he wants to be here with us as much as we
want him here."

"Have you written to him, Remus?"

"Yes," Remus sighed. "I wrote to him on his second day back. Aside from this, I
have not heard from him."

"Ron and Ginny have both sent him owls, too. I'm sure Hermione has as well. No
one has heard a word. Honestly, Remus, must he really stay there? Can't we keep
him safe here, with us, where there are people to talk to, to care for him?"

"Dumbledore has insisted that Privet Drive is the only safe place for him right
now, Molly. If nothing else, we have to trust him on that."

The expression on Molly Weasley's face indicated that she did not have so much
faith in the Headmaster when it came to Harry's well-being. Even as she fumed
over the injustice of Harry's situation, her eyes testified to her immense sadness
and worry over the boy she considered one of her own.

***

At one in the morning on Privet Drive, the dark-haired boy in the smallest
bedroom thrashed around on his bed, his threadbare sheets entangled around
his body and soaked in cold sweat. "No, no!" he moaned. "No, it's not me, it's
not..."

The ghostly figure of a sixteen-years-younger Sybill Trelawney gleamed on the

surface of the Pensieve in Dumbledore's office... "and either must die at the hand
of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power
to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

I have to kill him. I have to.

"Yes, Harry. It's you. It's always been you." Sirius Black appeared beside the
chair where Harry was sitting. "That's why I died. That's why your parents died.
It's always been you."

"No! It's not me!" He looked at the pale face of his Godfather.

"It's you, Harry, and more people are going to die because of it. I died because of
it. I died because of you."

Harry watched, horrified, as a stone archway with a tattered veil appeared behind
Sirius. Sirius doubled over as he had in the Department of Mysteries and slowly,
gracefully fell through the veil. "It's you, Harry...it's you..."

"No!" Harry shouted as he sat bolt upright in bed. "Sirius!"

Back to index
 Chapter 2: Reflections by WriterLady

Uncle Vernon burst into Harry's room with Aunt Petunia following closely behind.
Both wore the heavy expressions of those who had been jolted out of a sound
and dreamless sleep. Uncle Vernon violently slapped at the light switch until the
room was flooded in brightness.

"What the devil is going on in here, boy? Have you any idea what time it is?" he
shouted. "I will not have my family being woken up at all hours of the night!"

Harry did not reply. Still gripped in the terror of his nightmare, he only sat in his
bed, his eyes staring blankly in front of him, shaking and sweating. Aunt Petunia
noticed his state. For an instant, it seemed as though she was about to go to him,
maybe even comfort him. Just in time, however, she got hold of herself and the
disapproving scowl she reserved just for Harry set into her face. She crossed her
arms over her chest and listened as Vernon continued to rant at their nephew.

"Some people in this household work for a living, Potter. If you want me to
continue putting food on the table and clothes on your ungrateful body, you'd do
well to let me get a good night's sleep. And your window is open! What did I tell
you about that, boy! I don't want the neighbors to know one bit about
your...unnaturalness. You're to keep that window closed, hear? And
furthermore..."

Another door opened down the hall and Harry's cousin Dudley wandered sleepily
into the fray. Although Harry's scream had not woken him, his father's shouting
was loud enough to make the windows rattle. Even through the sleepy haze in his
eyes, Dudley realized what was going on and grinned stupidly at Harry. Dudley
loved to hear his father telling Harry off.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," said Harry quietly, trying to keep the tremors from his
voice. He didn't have the strength or the will to fight with his uncle, and he wanted
the Order to have no excuse to try to come to his aid. "It won't happen again."

"You are bloody well right it won't happen again, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his
face turning a darker purple as his temper rose. "I don't care what you have to do
to stop that blasted screaming, but I won't be woken in the middle of the night
again! Screaming like a bloody baby! Are all wiz-"

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia hissed. "The window!"

Vernon stopped in the middle of his words. No one in the room could believe that
he had almost said "wizard," a word as forbidden in the Dursley household as the
nastiest swear word imaginable.
Without another word, Vernon strode across the room and slammed the window
shut. He paused and turned to face Harry, opening his mouth furiously as if he
were about to start shouting again. Instead, he pulled back his hand and knocked
Harry in the side of his head so hard that Harry almost fell off the other side of his
small bed. Without another word, he turned his back on Harry, stormed past
Petunia and Dudley and stomped back to his own bedroom. Now that the show
was over, Dudley smiled dumbly at Harry before going back to his own room.

Aunt Petunia stole one last furious glance at her nephew and was surprised to
see that, although the boy had not made another sound, a single tear trickled
from his left eye and down his cheek. She left the room without another word,
closing the door softly behind her.

***

Harry finally got out of his bed after his relatives had left the room, brushing the
tears from his face. Aunt Petunia probably thought he was crying because
Vernon had hit him, but the truth was that the nightmare from which he had just
awoken had, after the initial shock, left him with a large lump in his throat and a
pain in his chest that made him feel that his heart was about to burst. He screwed
up his face, fighting the despair that wanted so badly to come to the surface.

It's my fault. Sirius died because of me.

Harry knew from the core of his being that it was true. If Harry had not gone to the
Department of Mysteries that night, Sirius would never have died. If Harry had not
been there, his parents would never have died. How many more would there be?

Not for the first time, Harry wished that he was not the Boy-Who-Lived. Since his
first year at Hogwarts, he had often wished the trials and the celebrity of his
status would simply go away. Tonight, he did not wish for that. Tonight, he
wished that he had died with his parents. He could no longer bear the pain of his
own existence.

Against his will, more tears of despair trickled from his green eyes down his
flushed and sweaty cheeks. He swiped them away, feeling stifling hot in the
airless room. Listening to make sure he didn't hear his relatives in the hallway
outside his bedroom, Harry went over to open the window once again. He knew
he did not have to worry about any more nightmares tonight, for tonight there
would be no more sleep.

...for neither can live while the other survives...

Upon reaching his window he saw in the glass, instead of his own reflection,
another face, a horribly familiar face. A face that was more snake-like than
human, a face with evil, red eyes and narrow holes where the nose should have
been. Lord Voldemort was staring through Harry's second-floor window, his face
twisted in a sick grin.

"I see you, Harry Potter. It's only a matter of time. You are ready to die, I can see it
in your thoughts. I eagerly await the pleasure..."

The face disappeared.

Harry's scar exploded with pain and he dropped to his knees, clutching his
forehead. He was going to be sick. His body, weakened by lack of food and rest,
shaking and pale as a ghost, finally gave in, and Harry fell, unconscious, the rest
of the way to the floor.

***

Molly finished her note to Harry and tied it to Errol's leg, opening the drawing
room window to let him into the dark night to take the message to Privet Drive.
For years, she had known what it felt like to worry about Harry as well as the rest
of her children, but she could not remember a time when she had been more
worried about any of them than she was about Harry right now. What the poor
dear must be going through...she did not like to think of him alone with those
relatives of his when he was obviously in such a fragile state.

Would they care for him, make sure he ate, make sure he slept? Would they be
ensuring that he got out in the sun? Molly highly doubted it, and she knew that
they would not make themselves available to talk to Harry if he needed help, not
that Harry would ask them anyway. She wanted him away from them. She wanted
him here, where he belonged, with her and the rest of her family, and with Remus,
the last of his father's friends.

No matter what Remus said, Molly had made up her mind that if Harry did not
answer her owl directly and did not give a more detailed account of what his life
was like this summer, she and Arthur both would be visiting Privet Drive in the
near future. Dumbledore be damned. No one messed with Molly's children.

"Mum?" Molly's youngest child and only daughter entered the room behind her.
Molly turned to face her, hoping that her worry was not too plain on her face.

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Is Errol taking a letter to Harry?" Ginny Weasley was extremely observant, and
she had seen her mother fretting over the letter earlier in the evening.

"Just a quick note, dear, to let him know we are here if he needs us." Molly tried
hard not to convey her worry to her children; they were worried enough without
adding her own fears to their burden.
"He's been there for almost five days now, and we've not heard anything from him
except that short note on the third day. I'm worried, Mum. Harry has an owl. Why
isn't he answering our letters?"

Molly went to her daughter and hugged her tight, answering through the embrace.
"Harry's grieving right now, Ginny. He's lost the closest thing he has ever had to
a father. I imagine he is not writing because he just doesn't know what to say."

"Why, Mum? Why can't Harry be here? He needs us, and we need..." she trailed
off, blushing slightly.

Molly broke apart from her daughter and studied her face intently. "Ginny,
dear...is there something you want to talk to me about?"

Ginny sighed, lowering her eyes to avoid her mother's gaze. "No, Mum. I'm just
worried, that’s all. Ron is, too. Even Fred and George are worried."

"I know...I know, Ginny. But Professor Dumbledore has said that Privet Drive is
the only place in which Harry can be safe right now. It's only a few weeks more,
dear, until his birthday."

"Is Harry coming on his birthday?"

"That is what we have been planning. I have an idea. Why don't you, Ron, Fred
and George put your heads together and plan a little party for Harry's birthday
when he arrives? I am sure he would like that. "

"Mum, that's brilliant!" Ginny said happily. "Of course we'll plan a party for him!
Will you make food, and a cake? He's never had a real birthday cake before. Can
we invite some of our other friends to come, too?"

Molly smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm, and she ruffled Ginny's red hair
affectionately as she answered, "I would be delighted to make a birthday cake for
Harry, dear, but I'm afraid the party will have to be confined to members of the
Order, our family, and Hermione. We simply can't have too many people coming
to headquarters. It wouldn't be safe."

Ginny was actually glad of this. If she invited others, she would have to invite her
boyfriend, Dean Thomas, and that could prove to be awkward...but why, she
wondered? It was not like she had a crush on Harry anymore.

***

Harry woke to the bright summer sun streaming through his bedroom window
and was puzzled at first as to how he had ended up sleeping on the floor and how
he had ended up sleeping so long. The clock on his bedside table said that it was
nearly noon! Why hadn't his aunt woken him to help with the breakfast? Even
though he was mainly confined to his room, he was never allowed to have a lie-in.

Harry's scar gave a familiar twinge. As he reached up to rub it, the events of the
previous night came back to him in a rush. Harry jumped to his feet, grabbing his
wand from his bedside table and moving more quickly than he had since he had
come back to Privet Drive. The house was quiet...too quiet.

Pulling on the same baggy jeans he had worn the day before and a revolting
vomit-green t-shirt, Harry crept out of his room and down the stairs. He nearly
collapsed with relief when he heard water running in the kitchen and the familiar
canned laughter coming from the television set in the lounge. He hid his wand
under his shirt and continued to the kitchen, finding that the brief exertion had
rendered him quite tired again.

Aunt Petunia was scrubbing the kitchen, peering as usual through the windows
to spy on the neighbors as she did so. Harry entered the room quietly and sat at
the kitchen table, resting his aching head in his hands.

"We had breakfast hours ago," Aunt Petunia snapped. "Vernon decided that if
you are not courteous enough to come down on your own, you simply will not
eat. You will have to wait for lunch."

Harry did not reply; he was not hungry anyway. His mind kept straying to the
vision of Voldemort looking through the window into his bedroom. Harry knew
now that Voldemort could not actually have been there; he must have been using
legilimency to enter Harry's mind. Still, the memory was another thing to add to
his list of items that were disturbing his peace of mind this summer. How had
Voldemort gotten into his mind while he was on Privet Drive, though? That had
never happened before.

"You are ready to die. I can see it in your thoughts. I eagerly await the pleasure..."

Although he had been afraid the night before, Harry could no longer even muster
the will to worry anymore.

"Harry," Aunt Petunia said abruptly. Harry turned his head quickly to find his aunt
looking at him intently, almost worriedly. He realized that this was one of the few
times she had ever addressed him by his first name.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"What were you dreaming about last night?"

Harry was startled enough to come briefly out of his stupor. "I was dreaming
about..." He could not tell her about the Prophecy. "I was dreaming about
Sirius...about how he...how he died." Harry answered, trying not to choke on the
words as the lump in his throat formed anew.

For some reason, he saw definite signs of relief flooding his aunt's narrow face.
"Sirius," she snapped, sounding much more like her old self. "Your Godfather is
dead, then." This was said without a trace of emotion, nor any question as to
what had happened to him.

"Yes," Harry looked down. He did not want to talk about Sirius right now. That
was one of the reasons he was avoiding communication with the Order.

"So the dream did not concern the man who killed your parents."

"Not directly, no."

"So we are still safe here."

"As far as I know." Harry, of course, was not about to tell Aunt Petunia that he
had seen the face of the Dark Lord in his window the night before.

"Fine. Go back upstairs and make yourself presentable before lunch." Without
another glance, Aunt Petunia turned her back on Harry and resumed scrubbing
the kitchen sink.

When Harry got upstairs to his room, the first thing he noticed was a bedraggled-
looking owl perched precariously on his windowsill with a scroll of parchment
tied to his leg. Harry dragged his feet as he approached the window,
remembering all too clearly what had happened the night before. In addition to
that, he was not looking forward to reading another letter from the Weasleys. He
had received a letter each from Ron and Ginny and had not answered them yet.
He knew they were probably angry with him, but he just couldn't bring himself to
write to them.

Harry raised the window to let Errol come in. The owl immediately flew over to his
bed and flopped down, falling onto his back. Harry untied the scroll and was
surprised to see the gently flowing handwriting of Mrs. Weasley. She had never
sent him an owl before.

Harry, dear,

How are you doing so far this summer? We are all a bit worried about you. You
sent only that short note yesterday, and that did not give us much information to
go on.

Are the Dursleys treating you well, dear? Have you been eating properly? And
sleeping? I know this must be a very hard time for you, and I know the pain you
must be feeling at the loss of Sirius. We are here for you. We care for you. Even
though we are not able to be together just yet, it won't be long.

Please send us an owl as soon as you can and let us know how you are doing.

We miss you and we will have you out of there as soon as we can.

Molly Weasley

Harry sat down on his bed next to Errol and closed his eyes. He could almost
hear Mrs. Weasley's mothering voice coming through the parchment, and he did
not want to. Because of him, her son and her daughter had been injured at the
Department of Mysteries. Because of him they could have died.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh
month dies...

Because of him, her entire family, herself included, was in even greater danger
than the others in the Order. But she didn't know that, of course. Dumbledore had
promised that Harry would not have to tell others about the prophecy until he was
ready...and he would never be ready, he thought.

It's you, Harry. It's always been you.

It's you, and more people are going to die because of it. I died because of it. I died
because of you.

Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley would feel differently about him if she knew. He
was not her son, after all, and even though she had said last year that he was "as
good as," Harry knew that it wasn't the same. If Ron or Ginny had died...if they did
die because of him, Mrs. Weasley would never forgive him. Harry would never
forgive himself.

He knew he had to send Errol back with a reply or members of the Order would
show up on Uncle Vernon's doorstep even though it had not been three days. He
knew he could not bear to look at any of them directly, so he crossed to his desk
and took out a piece of parchment.

Dear Mrs. Weasley,

Thank you for your letter and your concern, but I promise you I am fine. Aunt
Petunia is feeding me well, and I have gotten enough rest.

Harry cringed. He had never lied to any of the Weasleys. But this time, he knew he
had to.
I am spending as much time out-of-doors as I can. This summer is not as hot as
last summer, and it has been pleasant in Little Whinging. Taking long walks helps
me to sort out my thoughts, as it always has.

Is there any news that I should know about? Tell Ron and Ginny that I will write to
them soon and not to worry.

Harry

Harry looked at the parchment critically. His handwriting looked odd; he had been
having trouble stopping his hands from shaking as he wrote. Almost everything
in it was a bald-faced lie, but he would not let the Order come here. He would not
put any of them in more danger because of him. A summer at the Dursleys was a
small price to pay for the safety of his friends.

Harry rolled and sealed the parchment with shaky hands, tied it to Errol's leg, and
sent him out the window and back to the Burrow...or were they at headquarters?
Never mind, Errol would know where to find them.

Harry flopped onto his bed, and again focused on the crack on the ceiling and
began to count backwards. Instead of calming him as it usually did, each time he
counted back, another one of his friends' faces flashed in his mind, their eyes
open and blank, like Cedric's had been in the graveyard.

999, dead Ron.

998, dead Hermione.

997, dead Ginny.

996, dead twins.

995, dead Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

994, dead Lupin...

Harry began to shake uncontrollably. He never heard his aunt's shrill call that
lunch was on the table, or later, that he had better come downstairs if he wanted
dinner. Harry didn't sleep, but neither did he move from his bed for the rest of the
day.

Back to index
 Chapter 3: Almost Nothing Left by WriterLady
Chapter 3: Almost Nothing Left

After two days had passed without Harry leaving his room on Privet Drive any
more than bare necessity required, Aunt Petunia began shoving food through the
cat flap in Harry's bedroom door. She supposed that his friends had been
sending him food, but she did not want Harry to complain that he had not been
fed. Her suspicions were confirmed when she reached back through the cat flap
to retrieve the trays and found that besides some small portions that looked
suspiciously as if they had been eaten by something with a beak, the food was
untouched. That horrible boy! If all he was going to do was sit in his room and
brood, the least he could do was tell her he did not plan to eat the food she
provided. But he did not, and fearing that the freaks would come if she did not
keep giving him the food, she put a small meal through the cat flap three times a
day.

On the other side of the door, Harry was growing weaker by the hour. It was not
that he had decided not to eat. He wasn't trying to hurt himself; his head throbbed
so badly that eating only made him retch. He could not stomach even a few
spoonfuls of broth or a sip of the tepid tap water that Aunt Petunia provided. In
the back of his mind was an incessant voice, high-pitched and evil, reminding
him that all the deaths so far had been his fault and that surrender was his only
option. The voice also replayed his parents' last moments, and at those times
Harry would fall to his knees with his hands over his ears and stifle a scream.

Besides reminding Harry to send his note to the Order on the sixth day of the
summer, the Dursleys seemed satisfied that Harry was at last staying out of sight,
and they no longer attempted to communicate with him at all. Life on Privet Drive
continued as usual outside of Harry's doors, not that he noticed. He was tortured,
plagued by the voice during his waking hours and vivid nightmares when he
slept. His state of mind had gone from bad to worse, and sleep had become
almost nonexistent. Harry had taken to tying a t-shirt around his mouth before he
fell asleep so that the Dursleys would not be awoken by his screams. The
makeshift gag worked, but it did not make for a very comfortable sleep for Harry.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh
month dies..."

During the first two days spent in his room, the thoughts of the prophecy had him
pacing back and forth, wearing a path into the carpet. By the third day, however,
he had no more energy for pacing; it was all he could do to get up to use the
facilities, and he only did so when he was certain that none of the Dursleys would
see him.
On the fourth day in his bedroom, the eighth day of his summer holiday, Harry no
longer had the strength to get out of his bed at all. Since he was unable to eat or
drink, using the facilities was no longer a problem. Several owls had come
through his window and dropped letters on his bed, but he did not open them; in
fact, he did not even realize that they were there. On close observation, one
would notice that he was becoming skeletally thin, his mouth dry and parched
from lack of drink, his eyelids sewn together with mucus.

Aunt Petunia peeked into the room once after it had occurred to her that Harry
might be sneaking out through his window. She did not look closely at her
nephew, who was wrapped completely in his blankets to stave off the cold he
continually felt. His trembling had become so slight from lack of energy that she
did not even notice, nor did it occur to her that she should check on his well-
being. She was simply happy that he was not roaming the house or the
neighborhood, his weirdness flowing out of him like an aura.

By the ninth day of the summer vacation, Petunia and Vernon Dursley forgot to
remind him to send a note to the Order.

***

At Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place a meeting was being held. It was not an
official meeting of the Order, although all of the adults at the table were members;
it was a meeting to discuss Harry Potter and his situation on Privet Drive.

"We haven't heard from him yet today. Albus, I am worried. His last letter was
barely a sentence long, and all he said was that he was fine. Please." Molly
Weasley looked entreatingly at the old Headmaster across the table.

"Molly, Harry is extremely vulnerable to attack right now, both physically and via
Legilimency. I fear that Voldemort will find him anywhere but where the blood
protection lies. We must be cautious, for if Petunia Dursley negates the blood
contract, Harry will lose his last safe harbor," Professor Dumbledore answered,
but no one at the table missed the worry in his eyes or the fact that the usual
twinkle was conspicuously absent.

"Surely, though," Lupin answered, "checking on him once would do no harm."

"We've got to go!" Tonks spoke up. "Molly's right; something is off about this
whole thing."

Charlie, Bill, and the Weasley twins said nothing, which testified that they were as
worried about Harry as everyone else.
"I do not believe that having us barge into Number Four would do anything to
improve his situation with his aunt and uncle," Dumbledore said gently, his heart
aching at the fact that he had sent the boy to be on his own after everything that
had happened. If there had been any other choice, he would not have done it. "I
am quite certain we will hear from Harry before the day is out."

"No!" Molly interjected, and everyone at the table could see that she was working
herself into a state. "No, Albus! We have to go! Can't you see, don't you
understand how fragile Harry is right now? He needs to be with his friends."

Fred suddenly spoke up. "Mum's right. If you aren't going to do anything about
this, Professor, George and I will go ourselves."

"Fred and George," Mr. Weasley said tiredly. "You are adults now and members
of the Order. You no longer have the freedom of breaking rules. Think of what
could happen! Harry's uncle could throw him out, and the blood protection would
no longer be in effect at all. The consequences of hasty action could be
disastrous."

"Dad's right, guys. We have to find a way to agree about what we are going to do,
and we have to have a plan," Bill said. "However, I agree that something needs to
be done. We can't just leave him there, and if we don't hear from him today, I have
to assume that things are not going well."

"Please," Lupin muttered, and everyone was surprised to see the stoic man's face
beginning to well with emotion. "Please, Albus. Let someone go." Remus knew
that if Harry was suffering Sirius’s loss as much as he was, leaving him alone as
they had was not only dangerous, but cruel.

It was this uncharacteristic plea that finally broke Dumbledore's resolve, and he
relented. "We will wait two more days. Remember, we have had someone on duty
since the beginning of the summer, and nothing untoward seems to have
happened. If we have not heard from Harry, Remus will go to check in on him. The
advance guard will accompany him in case of any problems, but Remus alone will
go into the Dursley's home. I do not want to alarm his uncle into taking drastic
action."

Molly heaved a sigh of relief and buried her face in her hands. The mother inside
of her worried that Harry was in trouble. She hated waiting even two more
minutes, much less two more days, but she knew that Dumbledore had his
reasons. At least he had consented to let someone go. No Death Eaters had been
spotted on Privet Drive; it was Harry's emotional state she was worried about, the
loss and the guilt that she knew he would be feeling. She only hoped he would
speak to Remus.

***
 

On the other side of the kitchen door, Ron and Ginny exchanged looks of relief
that mirrored their mother's. They had each written to Harry several times, and
had heard nothing from him since the start of the holiday. In her worry, Mrs.
Weasley had forgotten to cast an Imperturbable charm on the kitchen door, and
they had heard every word that had been said in the kitchen.

"Oh, Ron," Ginny whispered. "I hope he's okay." She hated to think of him all
alone, so far away, with those people.

"Me too, sis," Ron replied, his voice almost breaking.

***

Remus Lupin dusted himself off as he stepped from the fireplace in Mrs. Figg's
home. He did not want to Apparate onto Privet Drive, for Dumbledore had insisted
that this be done as quietly as possible.

Remus could hardly wait for Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, and
Alastor Moody to follow him out of Mrs. Figg's house and onto Wisteria Walk. The
tenth and eleventh day of the summer had passed with no word from Harry, and
everyone, Dumbledore included, was growing increasingly worried.

All of them were dressed in the closest items they had to Muggle clothing, not
wanting to call too much attention to themselves. When they reached Privet
Drive, the advance guard waited in the play park for a signal from Remus, who
continued walking up to the door to Number Four.

Vernon Dursley opened the door, his face going immediately purple at the sight
of Lupin in his faded and torn Muggle trousers and mismatched oxford shirt.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled.

"I fancied a word with Harry," Lupin answered pleasantly. "Could you call him,
please?"

Vernon puffed out his chest. "I thought I made it clear to you lot that I don't want
you in my home. The boy is fine. I've seen to it that he remembered to write to
you, so I ask again: what are you doing here? Leave immediately!"

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Mr. Dursley, but we did have not heard from
Harry in almost a week. I will not be leaving until I have spoken with him. It will
only take a moment." Lupin's tone was mild, but even Vernon could see the
warning glint in his eye.

"Haven't heard..." Vernon spluttered. "I told him to write you. He must have just
forgotten, or maybe the bloody bird got lost."

"Where is Harry, Mr. Dursley?" Lupin asked, his voice growing harder.

"He's in his room sulking," Vernon answered. "Been there for days. We've been
giving him food, mind you. It's his choice to stay in his room."

"He hasn't been out of his bedroom for days? Have you seen him at all?"

"No. And we're all the better for it."

"Mr. Dursley, if you do not call Harry downstairs this instant I will personally go
up to get him, and rest assured that I will not be quiet about it." Lupin's tone grew
even harder, and there was a note of panic in it now.

"Fine," Vernon scowled at Lupin before turning to shout up the stairs, "Potter!
There is someone here to see you."

Lupin watched the stairs expectantly, but when Harry did not appear his heart
pounded in trepidation. Where was he?

"Potter! Come down at ONCE!"

Harry did not appear. Just as Molly had suspected, something was very, very
wrong.

Lupin took a moment to turn and shoot a signal out of his wand and down the
street, and Vernon cowered as though the man had just hexed him. "Listen here,
you....you...I will not have..." Vernon struggled to overcome his fear and his face
grew to an even darker shade of purple.

Lupin pushed past him and ran up the stairs to Harry's room. He tried the door; it
was locked. He pounded furiously. "Harry! Harry! Are you in there? It's me,
Remus. Let me in, Harry."

When there was no answer, Lupin raised his wand. "Alohomora!" When the lock
clicked and he swung the door open, he saw Harry stretched out on his bed.

He crossed to him swiftly, and what color he had in his face drained completely.
"Oh, no," he whispered.
Tonks, Kingsley, Dedalus, and Moody pounded up the stairs, oblivious to
Vernon's outraged shouting. They stopped short when they came up behind
Remus and saw Harry on the bed.

He was unconscious, a filthy t-shirt binding his mouth, a yellow-tinged bruise on

the side of his face. He had no color, and his eyes and cheeks were so sunken
that but for the slight rise and fall of his chest, they might have thought he was
dead. Tonks turned, and in an uncharacteristic show of despair, buried her face in
Kingsley Shacklebolt's chest. She couldn't stand to look.

Remus bent down over Harry, gently removing the gag from his mouth. "Harry,"
he whispered. "Harry?" He shook his shoulder slightly, and was startled that he
could feel the ridge of Harry's collarbone easily through his shirt.

There was no response. Behind the group, Aunt Petunia entered the room. She
opened her mouth to deliver a scathing comment to the weirdoes in her house,
but was stopped short when she saw her nephew. For once, she was speechless.

Alastor Moody found his voice first. "Dursley!" he shouted. "Vernon Dursley!"

Vernon came into the room, but could not see Harry through the mass of bodies
now surrounding him.

"Dursley," Moody growled in his most dangerous voice. "What in the bloody hell
is the meaning of this? What have you done to him?" Moody pointed his wand at
Dursley, shaking in an effort to control his rage.

"I've done nothing to the boy. He's been in his room! We didn't lock the door, he
just wanted to stay. Has he left?" he stammered, his eyes never leaving Moody's
wand. Petunia shook her head silently, and her husband was shocked to see her
eyes filled with tears. He looked over the head of the shortest wizard, Dedalus
Diggle, and saw Harry on the bed. "I didn't...we didn't..." He started to back away
from Moody.

"I thought..." Petunia whispered. "I thought that redheaded woman was sending
him food and that's why he wasn't eating what I gave him. She has been sending
food with that owl for years. I didn't know...I didn't know..." she whimpered
slightly. She had no love for the boy, but she would have had to be less than
human not to be shocked by what had happened to him. "I just thought he was
sulking because he didn't want to come here. "

Kingsley Shacklebolt patted Tonks awkwardly on the back as he surveyed the

room. Lupin was now kneeling next to Harry's bed, trying to rouse him. Moody
stood stock still with his wand pointed at Vernon Dursley, and Dedalus Diggle
was searching for any clue as to what had been happening. Had someone
managed to get into the room? Everyone who had been duty had said that no one
unusual had entered or left the house, and Vernon and Petunia had kept to a
normal routine. Since they couldn't see past the curtained windows of Number
Four, however, no one had realized that Harry had stopped moving about the
house.

"Right," Kingsley said in his deep voice. He pulled Tonks away from him. "Tonks,
I need you to find Madam Pomfrey, as quickly as you can. Apparate to
Hogsmeade and get up to the school, as I believe she is still there. Send her to
headquarters."

Tonks nodded and with a soft "pop", disapparated.

"Moody, take the Dursleys outside the room and try to find out what has
happened here."

Moody gestured at Petunia and Vernon with his wand, and the three moved out
into the hall.

"Dedalus, find Dumbledore. We are going to need him. Use Arabella Figg's floo
and check at the school, and at the Hog's Head, as I believe he had planned to
visit his brother today. After you have found him, both of you go back to
headquarters."

Another soft "pop" and Dedalus was gone.

"Remus," Kingsley began, but the man beside Harry's bed did not look up.
"Remus."

"What happened, Kingsley? How did this happen?" Remus' whisper was
pleading, almost desperate, and Kingsley noticed that he was shaking badly and
had tears in his eyes.

"I don't know, Remus. We need to get Harry back to headquarters, though. It is
obvious that he cannot stay here. Why don't you stay with him and pack his
things. We need to get him to Arabella's without being seen."

Remus nodded. "Harry has an invisibility cloak. It is large enough to cover us

both on the way."

"I need to go back to headquarters, Remus, and warn Molly. She'll want to keep
the children out of the room when we bring Harry through the floo. Can you
manage?"

No longer trusting his voice, Remus nodded. Kingsley disapparated.

Alone in the room with Harry, who was still unconscious despite all of Remus's
efforts to wake him, Remus gingerly touched the boy's cheek. He hadn't realized
how much Harry meant to him until that night in the Department of Mysteries
when he had to hold him back from running through the veil after Sirius, but he
knew now that losing Harry would be more than he could bear.

Knowing that he had very little time, Remus began bustling around Harry's room,
enchanting everything that looked like it belonged to him to fly into Harry's
school trunk at the foot of the bed. He noticed for the first time that there were
several scrolls of parchment littering the floor next to Harry's bed, and he
recognized one of them as his own. He had sent it two mornings ago! Had Harry
been in this state for that long?

Assured that everything was in the trunk, Remus called Hedwig into her cage and
shut her in for the journey. He rummaged through Harry's messily-packed trunk
until he found the invisibility cloak and put it in his pocket. He went to the door
and looked out. Moody was still talking to Vernon and Petunia, but he had
lowered his wand.

"Alastor?"

Moody turned to look at Remus.

"When you are done here, will you please take Harry's things to headquarters?"

Moody nodded. "Is the boy going to be all right?"

Remus nearly choked on the words. "I don't know, Alastor. From the looks of
things, he's been like this for at least two days.” A lump formed in Remus' throat,
making it hard to speak. Given that Harry was the last link to the closest friends
he had ever known, and considering a rather important item in Sirius’s will, he
knew that losing Harry after everything else that had happened would be more
than he could bear.

Crossing back to the bed, Remus picked Harry up, astonished at how light the
boy had become. This was not the same athletic teenager who had fought to be
released at the Ministry only weeks ago. Remus felt as though he were carrying
either someone very young or extremely old, but not a vital fifteen-year-old boy.
Without a word or a glance at the Dursleys, Remus carried Harry gently down the
stairs, carefully covering both of them with the invisibility cloak before walking
out of the house.

Back to index
 Chapter 4: In Excellent Care by WriterLady
Chapter 4: In Excellent Care

Molly, Arthur, Ron, and Ginny Weasley sat silently around the kitchen table at
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Every few minutes, someone would try to start
a conversation, but they were all so consumed with wondering what was
happening in Little Whinging that any other topic of discussion soon fizzled out.

"Mum?" Ron asked. "Do you think Harry will tell Professor Lupin what's been
bothering him? He doesn't like to tell anyone anything that's bothering him."

"I don't know, dear. Professor Dumbledore sent Remus because he was also
close to Sirius, so maybe he knows a bit about what Harry is going through."

"He has to talk to someone!" Ginny exclaimed. "He won't even send any owls! He
can't deal with this all by himself."

"I know, dear. If he will talk to anyone, I think he will talk to Remus."

No one else spoke for a few minutes.

"Mum? You don't think anything has happened to Harry, do you?" Ron asked.
"Even last summer, after everything that happened in that graveyard, he talked to
us!"

It was Arthur who answered. "The Order has been keeping a watch on Privet
Drive since Harry's return. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened there except
that Harry has not been seen outside of the house."

"But Mum, didn't he tell you in his letter that he had been outside walking?"
Ginny asked.

"Yes, dear, that is what he said, but I think he was trying to make me believe that
he was all right. He doesn't want us to know how he is feeling right now."

"Bloody git," Ron said, the merest trace of a grin flickering across his face. "He
thinks he's responsible for everything that happens to everybody, but when it
comes to him, he doesn't want our help."

"Are they going to bring Harry back with them?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"I don't think so," Molly answered. "Professor Dumbledore just wanted Remus to
check up on Harry. The blood protection is still essential, and as long as Harry is
in that house, he is safe. You all know how important that is."
Ron and Ginny exchanged a glance. Their mother didn't know that they had
listened in on the meeting two days before, but because they had they knew that
she wanted Harry to come to Grimmauld Place as much as they did.

"Ron, Ginny," Arthur began. "It has been a very long day. Why don't the two of
you go up to bed and you can talk to Remus in the morning. I know he will tell us
how Harry is."

One glance at Ron and Ginny's faces and he knew his suggestion was no good.
He sighed. "Well, then. How about a cup of tea while we wait?"

Mrs. Weasley got up and went to the kettle in the grate. She removed it to fill it
with water and was just about to put it back on the trivet when the fireplace
erupted in bright green flames and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into the kitchen.

Ron and Ginny gasped. Kingsley was part of the Advance Guard! If he was
coming back without the others, it could not be good news. They both started to
speak at once, but Mrs. Weasley snapped at them to be quiet.

"Molly, Arthur," he said. "I need to talk to the both of you. Perhaps it would be
best if Ron and Ginny left the room for a moment."

"Mr. Shacklebolt, has Harry been attacked?" Ron asked the question that he knew
was on Ginny's mind as well.

"Ron! Ginny! Upstairs and to bed with both of you. We will talk in the morning."

"No, Ron, Harry has not been attacked. I just need to talk to your parents for a
moment. Order business."

Ron and Ginny were about to protest; even though they were relieved that Harry
had not been attacked, they knew that something was not right. One look into
their mother's stern face, and they knew it was no good. They just hoped that she
would forget to charm the door again.

No such luck. A few seconds after they had closed the door behind them, Ginny
threw her slipper at it, and it bounced back through the air without ever making
contact. She swore.

***

"What is it, Kingsley? What's happened?" Mrs. Weasley’s face had gone pale, and
she had to sit down.

"Harry, as we knew, was still at the Dursley’s house. We would have known if he
had left, or if anyone had found him." Kingsley stopped. He knew he didn't have
long to tell this story before Remus arrived with Harry, but he was not looking
forward to Molly's reaction to Harry's condition.

"Yes, we know," Arthur interrupted, feeling almost as anxious as his wife. "Go
on."

"When Remus talked to Vernon Dursley, he found out that none of the Dursleys
had seen Harry for a few days. Dursley said he was sulking in his room and
wouldn't come out, and complained that Petunia had had to bring his meals to
him up there.

"When Vernon called Harry, Harry did not come. Remus went up to his room,
and..." he trailed off, but Molly could see no sign of emotion on his face.

"And what, Kingsley? What?" Molly demanded. She felt as if the world had gone
into slow motion, and a terrible fear gripped her heart. She knew something
terrible had happened, but since he said there had been no attack, she didn't
know what could have.

"Molly," Kingsley looked down at her and she saw a hint of sadness in his dark,
stoic eyes. Arthur took her hand and nodded for Kingsley to continue. "When we
found Harry, he was unconscious in his bed. His face was bruised, and someone
had tied an old t-shirt around his mouth like a gag."

Arthur felt Molly begin to tremble and he leaned over to put his arms around her.

"Harry looked as though he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in days, maybe
even a week. We could not rouse him, no matter what we tried to do. From the
looks of his bedroom, he had been in that state for at least two days. The letters
you all had written were unopened on his bed and on the floor. The owls must
have dropped them off and then left."

"You...couldn't rouse him..." Molly whispered.

"He is still alive, Molly, but he is in a very serious condition," Kingsley said
gravely, answering the question she couldn't bear to ask.

"How...why?"

"We are not sure what happened. Moody is questioning the Dursleys right now,
but they say that they have been giving him food three times daily even though
he refused to come down for meals, and that they do not know why he was
gagged or bruised."

Molly stood up on the spot, but she was so distraught that Arthur had to support
her. "Where is he?" she demanded. "Where is he? I want him here. I want him
brought here. Do you hear me, Kingsley Shacklebolt? I want him right here, right
now!" Her voice rose to an almost hysterical level.

"Shh...Molly, don't," Arthur coaxed.

"No! No, Arthur! Look what's happened to him! You call this safe? I want him
here, Kingsley. I don't care what Dumbledore says. You bring him to me!"

Kingsley held up his hand and spoke in his most calming voice. "Molly, he is on
his way. Remus is taking him to Figg's house and will floo with him here as soon
as he can. I sent Tonks to find Poppy Pomfrey and Dedalus to find Albus. I expect
them at any time."

At that very moment, the fire burned green again and the Hogwarts school nurse
emerged from the flames. She looked around and said brusquely, "Where is he?
Potter?"

"He is not here yet, Poppy," Kingsley answered. "We are expecting him shortly."

"He is not coming by floo?" The matron looked horrified.

"It is the quickest way to get him here, and his injuries are not of the traumatic
nature. Remus Lupin has him; it will be all right."

Madam Pomfrey huffed her displeasure. From the sound of things, Potter
belonged in St. Mungo's this time, but she knew as well as anybody that he was
far too vulnerable there. She would have to do what she could here.

Tonks emerged from the fireplace next. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Molly
immediately went to her. "Tonks, what is it?"

"It's...oh, Molly...you should have seen him." Tonks burst into tears, which was
very unlike her. She couldn't speak anymore through her sobs, and Molly hugged
her, now more worried than ever.

They all turned as the fireplace burned green again, and this time Lupin emerged,
carrying Harry as effortlessly as if he were a baby. Molly gasped at Harry's
appearance. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this...he looked as
though he was about to die.

Madam Pomfrey hurried over to them. As she looked at Harry's face, pulling up
his eyelids to see his eyes, her heart felt as though it had dropped into her
stomach. She had been the nurse at Hogwarts for a long time, and she had seen
almost every kind of injury one could imagine, but she had never seen anything
that disturbed her as greatly as this.
"We need to get him into a bed," she said, her tone clipped. "Now."

"Remus, cover yourself and Harry with the invisibility cloak," Kingsley advised.
"We can take him up to Sirius’s old room. Ron and Ginny and the other boys need
to be warned before they see him. The shock would be too much."

Remus nodded and donned the cloak once again. They filed out of the room, and
sure enough, Ron and Ginny were waiting just outside the door.

"Mum, is he here yet?" Ginny asked, and then gasped as Tonks and Madam
Pomfrey came into the hall. "Why is Madam Pomfrey here? What's happened,
Mum? Where's Harry?"

Ron stood mute, seemingly incapable of speech, his freckles standing out plainly
from his pale face.

"Ron and Ginny, go get Fred and George, please," Molly asked quietly. "I want to
talk to all of you in the kitchen."

For once, her children did not argue but ran up the stairs to do as their mother
asked. Less than two minutes later, the four youngest Weasleys, Molly, and
Arthur were once again seated around the large old table.

"Ron, Ginny, Fred, George," Molly began, but she choked on her words and her
children were alarmed to see tears fill her eyes.

"Mum?" Ron whispered.

Arthur saw that Molly was not going to be able to tell her children what happened.

"They found Harry at the Dursley's, but he is in pretty bad shape," Arthur said
with difficulty.

"But Kingsley said he wasn't attacked," Ginny stated disbelievingly.

"He wasn't; at least, not so far as we could tell. Harry is unconscious right now. It
looks as though he has been for awhile. We do not know much, but we know that
he had not eaten for days."

"Not eaten?" Ron asked. "What do you mean?"

"Ron, Harry is very sick. We won't really know what happened until he wakes up."

"But he'll be all right, won't he?" Ginny asked. The answer was apparent in her
mother's face, and she reached out for Molly's hand.
"We don't know yet," Molly whispered through the tears that were now flowing
down her face.

"But...but...I thought you said they would take care of him!" Fred interjected
angrily. "How can he not have eaten? Were those people starving him?"

"We don't know, but we don't think so. We think that Harry chose not to eat, or
couldn't eat for some other reason. It doesn't look as though he has had water,
either." Arthur answered.

"Those...those..." George sputtered angrily, not being able to find a word bad
enough for the Dursleys. "How could they just let him get that sick? How come
they didn't contact us, or take him to hospital, or ... or something."

"We don't have those answers, George." Arthur did not tell his children about the
gag, or about the bruise. They had enough to deal with as it was.

"Where is he?" Ginny asked softly.

"He's here," Arthur answered. "Remus took him up to Sirius’s old room. Madam
Pomfrey is with him right now."

Before they could demand to see him or ask how he had gotten to Sirius’s room
without their knowledge, they all heard a soft popping noise and Albus
Dumbledore appeared on the other side of the kitchen.

"Where is he?" he asked without preamble.

"In Sirius’s old bedroom on the second floor," Molly answered. "Madam Pomfrey
is with him."

Without another word, Dumbledore strode out of the room.

"Mum, I need to see him," Ginny whispered. Everyone at the table looked at her.
Why had she said "I" and not "we"?

"You may see him after Madam Pomfrey is finished working," Arthur answered.
"If she says it is all right to do so."

Ginny nodded and began to cry.

***

Upstairs, Remus shook off the invisibility cloak and lay the still-unconscious
Harry gingerly atop the coverlet of Sirius’s bed, then found a blanket and covered
him. Madam Pomfrey all but pushed him out of the way as soon as he had done
that, and he crossed to the other side of the room, sat down weakly in an
armchair and watched her silently, more afraid than he had been since the day he
had learned that Lily and James Potter were in direct danger from Lord
Voldemort.

Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and touched it softly to Harry's throat,
muttering an incantation that Remus could not hear. She waited a moment and
then sighed. She rummaged in her bag and took out several different vials.

"I need a fire, Lupin," she said without looking at him. "Quickly. We've no time to
lose."

Remus crossed to the grate and quickly lit the fire with his wand. Madam Pomfrey
took out a very small cauldron, poured the contents of two of the vials into it and
took it to the fire, placing it in a pair of tongs and holding it over the flames until it
began to steam. She hurried back over to Harry.

"Hold him up," she ordered. Remus moved quickly to the bed and sat down next
to Harry, pulling the lifeless body into a sitting position and supporting the boy’s
weight in his arms. Madam Pomfrey put the steaming cauldron as close to Harry's
face as it could get without burning him and waited for him to inhale some of the
light purple steam.

Some of the color returned to Harry's face, but he did not stir. "That should have
brought him around enough so that he will swallow involuntarily the potions I
need him to take."

Remus nodded.

"The first thing to do is to get some water into him," Madam Pomfrey said. "He is
quite dehydrated, so much so that I am astounded that he is still alive."

Remus started at the harsh statement but lay Harry gently down again, went to
the washroom, and filled an old-fashioned goblet full of cool water. He returned it
to Madam Pomfrey, who asked him to hold Harry up again. Instead of putting the
goblet to his cracked and swollen lips, she took a teaspoon out of her bag and
began to slowly trickle the water into his mouth. When she had gotten three or
four spoonfuls into Harry, she began administering the potions she had taken out
of her bag. Through it all, Harry remained limp in Remus’s arms. When she had
finally finished doing what she needed to do, Madam Pomfrey nodded to Remus,
who lay Harry back down just as Dumbledore entered the room.

***

Down in the cellar kitchen, Molly held Ginny close as she cried. Fred had taken to
pacing up and down the length of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair,
and Ron sat at his place at the table, staring into space. George sat across from
him, his face buried in his hands, and Arthur took Molly's usual spot of minding
the teakettle.

When the kitchen door opened, they turned as one and stared as Remus Lupin
walked into the room and dropped into one of the kitchen chairs.

"He will recover," Remus said quietly, and then covered his face with his shaking
hands.

Back to index
 Chapter 5: Off the Radar by WriterLady

Chapter 5: Off the Radar

Somewhere off the coast of Italy, a man sat on a large stone chair, which sat on a
raised dais in the center of a large, medieval-looking room. Around him were no
fewer than twenty men and women, indistinguishable from one another in their
flowing black robes and masks. All of them were on their knees with their heads
bowed, waiting for their instructions.

"Have we found the boy yet?" Voldemort demanded in his inhuman, hissing
voice.

A cool voice answered him from under the mask closest to the throne. "No, My
Lord. He is no longer with his aunt and uncle, but we have been unable to locate
him."

"How has this happened, Lucius? You, among others, were supposed to be
keeping watch on the boy. How did he get away from you?" The Dark Lord's voice
was menacing and low.

"The werewolf came to the door of his home, and after talking with the boy's
uncle for a moment, shot a signal from his wand. Four of the others went into the
house, but we did not see any of them leave. They must have Disapparated."

"Potter cannot Disapparate."

"I know, My Lord. I cannot explain it, but I will personally see that he is found,"
Malfoy answered, trying to appease his master.

"See that you do, Lucius. As you know, I have found a way to get past the wards
protecting Harry Potter while he is with his relatives. We may not have been able
to physically get close to him while he remained in the house, but I was able to
focus on his mind, on his thoughts...even speak to him."

"A feat only you could have managed, My Lord," simpered Bellatrix Lestrange
from his other side.

"Since the day prior to Potter's departure from that house, I have not been able to
focus on the boy. I have searched, but it has been in vain. He seems to have
vanished so completely that he has simply ceased to exist."

"I will ask my contact at the Ministry, My Lord," Lucius said swiftly, correctly
sensing Voldemort's frustration and growing wrath.
Voldemort's voice was at its most dangerous. "I...want...him...found.
Immediately!" At these words, the Death Eaters rose as one and began leaving
the chamber, keeping their heads lowered.

***

From the time of Harry's arrival at Number Twelve, Grimmauld place, one person
never left his side. Remus Lupin pulled Sirius's old armchair to the side of the
bed and stayed with Harry around the clock, dozing on and off but never leaving
the room. Madam Pomfrey had been by to see him twice daily, and left Remus
with strengthening and hydrating potions to be spooned down the boy's throat
hourly. She was certain that Harry would make a complete recovery with time, but
Remus privately thought Harry hardly looked any better than when he had arrived
two days before. He was just as limp, just as unresponsive. There was a slight
pink tinge to his cheeks from the strengthening potion, but he remained as gaunt
as before.

Molly Weasley spent almost as much time with Harry as Remus did, although she
had to leave the room often to reassure Ron and Ginny. The first time Ginny had
entered the room and seen Harry, her face had gone white and she had to be
helped out of the room by Fred and George. She hadn't come back. Ron was
being very quiet, preferring to spend his time alone in his own bedroom when he
was not sitting with Harry. Arthur was not able to help much because he had
taken on Molly's duties for the Order as well as his own, and he still had to go to
work at the Ministry every day.

Molly and Remus both held his hands and talked to him, coaxing him to come
back to them, telling him that he was with his family now. When the others came
into the room, they encouraged them to do the same, but it was hard. Fred and
George tried to make jokes, but couldn't ever seem to get to the punch line. Ron
tried to talk about Quidditch, but found that having a one-sided conversation
about it was not nearly as good as the enthusiastic arguments over the sport that
he and Harry were known for. For the most part, Molly, Remus, and Harry were
left alone.

"Harry," Remus whispered late on the third night after Molly had gone to bed. "I
want you to listen to me, wherever you are. I know you can hear me."

He took a deep breath. "Harry, what happened to Sirius was not your fault. I know
that you think it was, but you were tricked into going to the Department of
Mysteries by Voldemort because he knew you would do anything to save your
Godfather. You went there with courage and loyalty to Sirius. He went for you for
the same reasons. That's what love is and what friendship is."
Tears filled Remus's eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he squeezed Harry's
hand, glad that no one else was there to notice his weakness. "Sirius made the
choice, Harry. He knew the risks, and he took them gladly. And in the end,
Bellatrix Lestrange killed him. She killed him, Harry, not you. She is the only
person on whom the blame can be placed."

Harry gave no response, but lay as still as he had been since his arrival.

"There is something else you need to know. Sirius was your legal guardian in the
magical world. As your Godfather, you were his responsibility. He could not have
lived with himself if he had not gone to you when you needed him.

"In his will, Sirius passed the torch of guardianship over to me. And Harry, I'm
glad he did. You can come to me if you ever need anything. I know I am not Sirius
or your father, but I am your friend, and I care about you more than you could
guess. Right now, though, I need you to come back to me. Please, Harry. Please
come back and let me help you. I can't lose you, too."

***

Someone was speaking to him, but he couldn't understand what they were
saying. Who was there? Harry tried to open his eyes, but couldn't...his eyelids
were too heavy to lift.

Where was he? It was too dark to know. He dimly heard someone pounding
furiously on a door somewhere, but it was not the same person who was
speaking to him. His mind was blank, no images there for once.

He was too tired to think of it now.

***

"How is he, Remus?" Dumbledore, who had been visiting daily, asked.

Remus sighed tiredly. "About the same. His eyes have started moving a bit
behind the lids, but he hasn't opened them."

Dumbledore bent over the boy on the bed, mopping Harry's brow with a cool
cloth. As usual, his eyes stopped on the scar on Harry's forehead, and he
touched it, wondering at the power it seemed to hold. Just a scar...but one of the
most powerful magical connections Dumbledore had ever known. He wondered
what it had to do with Harry's condition. He knew there was something more to
this.

"Harry?" he whispered. "It is time to come back to us."

***

"Harry, it is time to come back to us."

He knew that voice...Dumbledore...Dumbledore wanted him to come back? From

where? Harry was right here, just sleeping. So peaceful just to sleep.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

The voice was becoming clearer, and Harry could see a bright light through his
still-closed eyelids. He felt comfortable, and warm...and safe. Safe. His eyes
fluttered.

"That's right, Harry." Dumbledore.

"Come on, Harry. You can do it." Another voice. Professor Lupin? What was he
doing on Privet Drive?

"That's right, Potter. Come back to us. I have missed our little chats." Another
voice, a high-pitched, inhuman voice, the "s" sound trailing like a snake's hiss. "I
have been searching for you. I want to show you something."

An image unfolded like a curtain opening behind Harry's eyes. Voldemort sat on a
throne in the middle of a large room. The group of Death Eaters surrounding the
Dark Lord parted as Harry looked on, and Voldemort focused his piercing, red
eyes on Harry.

"Your Godfather will not be the last to die, Potter..."

***

Remus and Dumbledore stared intently at Harry as his eyes fluttered and almost
opened.

"That's right, Harry," Dumbledore said softly.

"Come on, Harry. You can do it," Remus coaxed.

Harry's pale face relaxed and it seemed for a moment that he might even smile a
bit. Remus took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.

Suddenly, Harry's entire body tensed, and his grip on Remus's hand would have
been painful if he were not still so weak. "No," he moaned, his voice rough and
cracked. "No more...my fault...because of me..."
Remus stared at Harry, alarmed and bewildered. Dumbledore, however, knew
exactly what was happening. He leaned over Harry and began to gently shake
him.

"Harry!" he said firmly, the softness in his voice gone. "Harry, it is Professor
Dumbledore. You must wake up. Wake up, Harry!"

Harry's eyes flew open. He gasped and sat bolt upright in bed, but the sudden
movement made him dizzy and he swayed. Remus leaned in quickly and caught
him before he flopped back down. Harry looked wildly around. Where was he?
This certainly was not his small bedroom on Privet Drive.

Remus shoved his usual reticence aside and placed his arm behind Harry's
shoulders, holding him up. Both of them were trembling, Remus with relief, Harry
in abject terror.

"It's all right, Harry," Remus said softly.

For the first time, Harry seemed to recognize his former professor's voice.
"Pr...Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Harry, it is me. Professor Dumbledore is here as well. We've been waiting
for you to wake up." Remus released his hold on the boy, carefully placing some
fat pillows behind his back.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked blankly. He could not figure out what was
happening.

"Yes, Harry, I am here."

Harry's hoarse whisper became more panicked. "Professor...Voldemort...a

gigantic room...where am I?"

Dumbledore gently touched Harry's shoulder. "You are at Headquarters, Harry.

You have been here for over three days. This was Sirius's bedroom."

"Sirius!" Harry tried to sit up straight again.

Lupin gently pushed Harry back onto his pillows. "Before we do any more talking,
Harry, there are some potions you need to take." He got up and selected three
vials out of many from the top of a heavy oak chest in the corner of the room.

Harry looked at the vials suspiciously. "What are those for?" he questioned.
"One is a strengthening potion," Lupin answered, holding up the smallest of the
vials. "Another is a hydrating potion, and the last is a nutritive potion. You were in
pretty bad shape when we got you, Harry. These will help you recover."

Harry nodded. He was already starting to feel sleepy again, and as his mind
cleared he felt he would rather sleep than talk to his professors and answer the
questions he knew they would ask. He took all three potions without another
word and lay back on his pillows, closing his eyes. After only a few moments, the
gentle rise and fall of his chest became regular, and Harry was deep in a calm
sleep.

***

Molly Weasley entered the dreary cellar kitchen with the idea of making a cup of
soothing chamomile tea for Ginny, and was very surprised to see Albus
Dumbledore sitting calmly in one of the chairs at the table, sipping a cup of
steaming tea himself. The hour was very late, and Dumbledore spent what time he
was able to spare at Harry's bedside. She looked at him with baited breath.

"He is awake," he said simply, a bit of the old twinkle back in his eyes. She
clapped her hands to her mouth. "I should say he was awake. He has gone to
sleep now, but the sleep is natural. Harry is back among us."

Tears filled Molly's eyes. No matter what Poppy Pomfrey had said, she would not
believe that Harry would recover until she saw it with her own eyes. As long as
she lived, she would never be able to erase the memory of Harry in Remus
Lupin's arms, looking one step away from death.

"Has he told you what happened?" she whispered. She had so many fears for
Harry...had he done this to himself? Had his relatives abused him? Or...was it
something else?

"Not yet, but I have some suspicions. Let us see what he says tomorrow. We need
to take this one step at a time, of course."

"Of course," Molly echoed. "May I see him?"

"Certainly. You will find Remus still with him. He will not be persuaded to leave
the room."

Molly nodded at Dumbledore and turned from the room, Ginny's tea forgotten as
she rushed as quietly as possible upstairs.
She knocked softly on the door and heard Remus's soft answer. She entered to
find Remus sitting, as usual, in the armchair he had moved next to the bed,
holding Harry's hand. Molly hadn't realized until that very moment that Lupin
cared for Harry almost like a son, just as she did. The tears of mixed relief and
sadness trickling down his face were testimony to that. Of course, she reasoned,
Harry was the last connection to the best friends Remus had loved so much...but
more than that, they had all come to love Harry for who he was, rather than who
his parents were.

She crossed softly to the other side of the bed and took Harry's other hand. How
many hours in the past three days had she and Remus sat together like this, each
of them holding one of Harry's hands? But this time was different. This time they
knew he was going to be all right. Molly smiled, and for the first time in days
Remus smiled back. Harry was recovering. Of course there were other worries,
but for now that was enough.

***

Almost a half an hour went by, and Molly still hadn't returned to Ginny's room.
What's taking her so long? Ginny thought. Suddenly she was terrified. Something
had happened with Harry. She knew it - it's the only reason her mother would
have left to get her a cup of tea and not come back. Just as she was about to go
find her mum, Ron walked into the room followed by the twins.

"You can't sleep either?" Fred asked.

"No," Ginny replied. "And Mum's been here with me, but she left half an hour ago
to make me some tea and she hasn't come back yet."

Ron looked worriedly at his siblings. "I saw Dumbledore leaving Harry's room a
while ago, but I couldn't see his face. Do you reckon they would have told us if
something happened?"

All four of the Weasley children groaned in unison. Their mother was famous for
her strict insistence on keeping her kids on a strictly need-to-know basis when it
came to things like this.

Ginny had just made up her mind to go to Harry's room herself when Molly came
into the room, a steaming cup of tea in her hand and tears running down her face.

Ginny's heart dropped into her chest, and she sat down on the bed. Fred, George,
and Ron all joined her, all touching each other in some way as if they gathered
strength in their togetherness. The Weasley brood may bicker, but it could never
be said that they didn't stick together when times were hard.
Molly set the cup of tea on Ginny's nightstand and knelt in front of them, putting
her eyes at their level just like she had when they were small.

"Harry woke up," she said softly. "He is going to be fine."

Ron's face broke into a grin that closely mirrored the ones on Fred's and
George's faces. Ginny, however, burst into almost hysterical tears.

"What in the bloody hell are you crying for?" Ron asked his sister, utterly
confused.

"I'm...I'm just..." she could hardly get the words out. "I'm so...so...happy!"

Ron gaped at her. "Ginny, when did you become such a girl?" Ginny turned to
him and socked him playfully in the arm, smiling through her tears.

"That's more like it," Ron said. "I've got to send an owl to Hermione! I swore I
would as soon as he woke up. She had to stay with her parents this summer, but
she's worried herself half sick." He left the room with a grin, nearly skipping in his
relief.

Ginny looked at Fred and George. "When did he write to Hermione? She and I
write back and forth often, but she never mentioned that she was writing to Ron,
too. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but I wonder why they kept it a secret."

Back to index
 Chapter 6: Assigning Blame by WriterLady
Chapter 6: Assigning Blame

When Harry next opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was sunlight pouring
through an open window to his right. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the
brightness, and looked around. A fire crackled in the grate, even though it was
July, and next to the grate was the dresser he had noticed the night before. It was
really a large piece of furniture, carved ornately in every space that would allow
for carving. Each of its six wooden drawers was decorated with engraved
scrollwork so elaborate that it almost seemed to be trying to convey a message to
Harry, though he knew that couldn’t be true. On the top of the massive chest sat
the myriad vials of potions Madam Pomfrey had left for him to take at regular
intervals. As Harry gazed at them – had he ever had to take so many before, even
with his frequent visits to the hospital wing? – he wondered just how ill he had
really been.

A comfortable-looking, well-worn leather armchair sat empty beside Harry's bed.

No one was in the room with him. Although Harry did not realize it, this was the
first time Remus Lupin had left his side in four days, and he had done so only on
Dumbledore's insistence that they talk for a moment out of Harry's range of
hearing.

So this was Sirius’s room, Harry thought. He had never been inside it before. Last
summer, he hadn't given it much thought, but now he felt a twinge of guilt that he
didn't really even know where or how his godfather had lived.

At the thought of Sirius, Harry felt the familiar lump rise into his chest, and he
stared out the second-floor window at the hot, blue sky that was tainted only
slightly by the smog that sometimes surrounded London on hot days.

"It's you, Harry, and more people are going to die because of it. I died because of
it. I died because of you."

"Your godfather won't be the last to die..."

“Don't think about that,” Harry ordered himself fiercely. “It was a nightmare, that's
all. A nightmare.” He spoke almost inaudibly, but his words seemed to echo
around the large room.

"Oh, but was it, Potter? Was it just a nightmare?" The cold voice that Harry had
heard in the back of his mind while he was at the Dursley's had returned. "I
suppose you think your precious godfather is going to walk through the door any
moment, do you? Was that all just a nightmare, too? He is dead, Potter, and he
did not have to die. If only he had not chosen to stand in the way of my
plans...and your destiny..." The voice laughed, a high, cruel laugh, and Harry's
scar burned as if it had been branded. Harry put his hands over his ears to block
out the voice and doubled over where he sat, trying as hard as he could not to
vomit. The attack had ended, but the pain not yet abated.

***

It had taken strong insistence on Dumbledore's part to convince Remus to leave

Harry's bedside even for a moment, but Dumbledore did not want Harry to hear
what he was about to tell the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron,
Ginny, and the twins were still asleep, having slept peacefully through the night
for the first time this summer, and their mother was letting them have a rare lie-in.
Molly herself was down getting tea for Albus and Remus and had said that as
soon as she was finished with that, she would sit with Harry until Remus came
back.

Remus settled down in a dusty wing chair in the drawing room and looked at
Dumbledore, who sat opposite him with an inscrutable look on his face, gazing at
him over his half-moon glasses.

"What's this about, Albus?" Remus asked finally. "What could be more important
than being with Harry when he wakes up?"

Dumbledore sighed and began, "You know that in his will, Sirius passed
guardianship of Harry over to you."

Remus gestured impatiently for Dumbledore to proceed to something he did not

know.

"When you signed it, you entered a binding magical contract to keep the boy in
your care until he turns seventeen, which will be in a little over one year. "

"Yes, Albus. I took it on gladly, as you well know."

"Of course, Harry's circumstances are a little different with the necessity that he
go back to Privet Drive for a time each summer."

Lupin cursed, and then looked apologetically at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, Albus.
It's just that when I think of those people..."

"And I am sorry to be, shall we say, avoiding the 'real' issue, Remus,"
Dumbledore said. "You see, I made a promise to Harry at the end of term never to
tell a soul what I am about to tell you. I am about to break that promise, and you
know that the breaking of a promise is not something to be taken lightly. Harry is
already feeling rather mistrustful of me right now, and when he finds out that I
have told you...well..."

The younger man's attitude changed instantly from annoyance at having to leave
Harry's side to intense concern. He had never known Albus Dumbledore to break
a promise, and to break one he had made to Harry...now, of all times, when Harry
needed to be able to trust the adults around him the most...whatever this was
about, Remus knew it was important.

"When Harry wakes, he will need to talk to someone, and I strongly suspect that
someone will be you, Remus."

Lupin nodded. He had already decided that his primary goal over the next few
weeks would be to gain Harry’s confidence. Sirius had made a lot of progress in
that endeavor prior to his death, but Lupin suspected that to convince Harry to
trust him, to talk to him with confidence, was not going to be an easy task.

"There is more Harry has to think about than Sirius’s death, although that in itself
would be more than enough. When I talked to him after Sirius died, I told him
everything. Although it was too late to save Sirius Black, I knew that it was time
Harry knew what I know."

"The prophecy," Remus muttered. The members of the Order had known that
Voldemort was trying to lay his hands on a certain prophecy in the Department of
Mysteries and that it had something to do with Harry. What they did not know,
however, was what the prophecy said. Dumbledore had not let on that even he
knew the exact contents, only that if Voldemort got it the results would be
disastrous.

"Yes, the prophecy," Dumbledore sighed, and Remus noticed that the twinkle was
again absent from the Headmaster's eyes, and the lines on his face seemed
deeper than ever before. Dumbledore was beginning to look his age.

"Now that you are Harry's guardian, you need to know. Harry will not tell you,
because he will feel that to tell you would be to put you at greater risk, and if
nothing else, Harry always strives to protect those he cares about."

"What does it say, Albus?"

At that moment, Molly Weasley bustled into the room carrying an old-fashioned
silver tea service that had once belonged to the Black family. She knew that
Dumbledore wished to have this conversation with Remus alone, so she came
and went quickly, knowing that she would eventually hear about anything
involving Harry from one of her children.
"There you go," she said briskly. "Piping hot peppermint tea. While you two finish
your talk, I'll go and sit with Harry." She started out of the room and then turned
to look at the tea service as if an idea had suddenly occurred to her.

"Oh, dear," she sighed, and bent to examine one of the cups that didn't seem to
be quite as tarnished as the rest of the set. Sure enough, when she tapped the
cup with her wand, it sprang up and tried to bite her on the nose.

"I should have known," she said, looking furious. "Fred and George have been up
to something lately, and Ron said something about wanting to learn how to make
nose-biting teacups for their shop. I should know by now not to take anything off
of the kitchen table when I don't know who put it there. What am I going to do
about those boys?" She picked up the teacup, which was now making grunting
noises as though about to challenge Molly to a duel. She held it out in front of her
as she left the room. "Be back in a moment; I'll just go back to the kitchen and get
you another cup."

As soon as she left the room, Remus repeated, "What does the prophecy say?"

Dumbledore sighed yet again and cast his eyes downward. Remus knew what it
was costing Dumbledore to tell him. The old man loved Harry and had guided him
through more trials than any fifteen-year-old should have had to endure.
Betraying Harry's trust; indeed, doing anything to further jeopardize their
relationship, was very painful to him.

Albus looked Remus directly in the eyes and began to speak the words that were
haunting Harry's thoughts:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those
who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....and the Dark Lord
will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and
either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other
survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the
seventh month dies..."

When he had finished, Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, and then
opened them to find Remus staring at him, his mouth slightly open, all the color
gone from his face. "Does that mean..."

Molly came quickly back into the room with a new teacup and noticed the
expression on Lupin's face. "Is everything all right?" she asked nervously.

"Yes, Molly," Dumbledore answered. "Would you please go and check to see that
Harry is still sleeping?"
Molly knew she was being dismissed and bristled slightly but did as the
Headmaster asked, reminding herself that she would know the answers soon
enough. She left the room again.

"Sweet Merlin, Albus, does that mean what I think it means? That Harry, our
Harry, is the only one who can defeat Voldemort in the end? There has to be a
mistake...we all thought it would be you." Remus looked at Dumbledore
accusingly.

"If I could take this burden off of Harry's shoulders you know that I would, but I
cannot. It is his destiny to fight Voldemort. If he cannot win, there is not one of us
who can."

"And this is why he keeps coming after Harry, why he wanted Harry to be in that
graveyard when he returned?"

"Yes, among other things. You have noticed, of course, that Harry has escaped
from him every time, not because he knew the right spells to cast but from his
sheer strength of will and the power of his love and loyalty to his friends."

"But Dumbledore, he's still just a boy. To have to live with this knowledge, to
know that the longer he waits, the more people will die...how can we expect him
to bear this? No wonder he is in such bad shape. He-"

Lupin was interrupted by the entrance of a cloud of transparent silver vapor

coming through the door, the signal the Order used when they needed to contact
each other quickly. Lupin hardly had time to wonder why someone had contacted
them in this manner before Molly Weasley's voice sounded in the room, reflecting
her state of mind when she had cast her thoughts into the spell.

"Remus, Dumbledore...come quick!" The voice was panicked and almost shrill,
but no sound had been heard from upstairs – the spell simply conveyed the
message that the sender wanted told to the other party, but the power of the spell
meant it also picked up the emotion behind the thought, not just the thought
itself.

Remus jumped up and raced out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom
where Harry was staying. Dumbledore remained behind, almost as if he already
knew what was happening.

***

Remus entered Sirius’s bedroom to find Molly leaning over Harry's bed, her arms
wrapped around him in a maternal hug. Harry, however, did not have his arms
around her, but rather clapped over his ears, like a child who was trying not to
hear his mother scolding him. His breath came in short gasps, and Molly rocked
him back and forth gently, making soothing motherly sounds. He hurried to them
and placed a hand on Molly's shoulder. A look of understanding passed between
them, and she gently released Harry and stood slightly off to the side.

Remus knelt by Harry's bed and gently pried his hands off his ears. Holding both
of Harry's wrists lightly in one hand, he used the other to hold Harry's chin and
softly force him to look up.

"Harry, look at me. It's me, it's Remus. Are you all right?"

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked hoarsely, trying to focus through the throbbing
of his head.

"Yes, Harry."

"I need to talk to you..." Harry trailed off and looked down at his lap.

Remus knew what this was going to be about, and he wasn't about to let Harry
blame himself for Sirius’s death as he knew the young wizard had been doing
ever since the night it had happened.

Molly watched the exchange between them until she remembered that, besides all
of his potions, Harry had still not had anything proper to eat in many days. She
knew that at the moment what Harry and Remus needed most was privacy, so she
smiled down at them and said, "I know just what you need, Harry. You need
something proper to eat. No, don't argue with me, young man," she said almost
sternly as Harry looked at her, about to protest. "I am going right down to fix you
a spot of breakfast, and you will eat it, like it or not!" She left the room before
either of them could argue.

"She's a force to be reckoned with, you know," Lupin commented, smiling a bit.
"She's hardly left your side since you got here, and she's been waiting for days to
be able to put some meat back on your bones. Best not to argue."

Harry nodded, but Remus could see that he wasn't feeling well. Beads of sweat
stood out on his forehead, and his face was very flushed. "How are you feeling,
Harry?"

"I'm okay," Harry responded automatically, even though he knew that he was
anything but.

"Harry, that's not going to be enough for me, I'm afraid. I want honesty from you.
Put whatever kind of front you would like to put up for the others, but with me,
you're to be honest.” Lupin kept his voice firm. He had had many hours to plan
how he would convince Harry to be truthful to him as he sat by Harry’s bedside,
and had decided that his first method would simply be insistence. “Let's do it
again. How are you feeling, Harry?"”

Harry would not meet Remus’s eyes. "I’m really all right. Only my head hurts a
little."

"Is that all? Or is there something else? I can give you a potion to help with the
headache."

Harry finally looked at the older man, and saw the concern in his eyes. He
weighed his options. In Remus’s eyes, he saw no condemnation or pity. What
was more than that, however, he had the same feeling of connection that he had
experienced when he had first found out that Sirius was his godfather. He took a
deep breath. "I've been...I don't know...hearing things."

Remus had not expected that. "What kinds of things?" he asked as nonchalantly
as he could.

"I hear...him...in my head. Voldemort. It comes and it goes, but I can hear him
speaking, telling me that I have to give in to him, that if I don't..."

"If you don't?" Remus tried not to show that this bit of news was rather alarming
to him.

"If I don't," Harry whispered, "more people are going to die...because of me."

Lupin frowned. "This was happening at your aunt and uncle's house as well?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "It started soon after I arrived."

"Harry, before we go any further with this, I want you to tell me what happened
before we took you away." Remus knew he would need to talk to Dumbledore
about the voice Harry was hearing, but he did not want to leave Harry until he was
sleeping again, so he shifted the subject. "Why weren't you eating, Harry?
Weren't your aunt and uncle feeding you?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Aunt Petunia put food through the slot in my door every day
after I stopped going for meals. I tried to eat, I really did, but every swallow made
me sick."

"So you weren't...trying to hurt yourself?"

"No! I swear I wasn't!" Harry was appalled that anyone could come to that
conclusion.
"Okay, Harry, I believe you. I just had to know. I know how hard it can be..."
Remus’s voice trailed off. He knew exactly how hard it was to lose someone you
cared for, and to feel responsible for their death. He tried to shake off his sadness
as his continued, "There are a couple of other things I need to know about. When
we found you, you had a t-shirt tied around your mouth. Who did that to you?"

Harry looked ashamed, and for a moment Remus thought he wasn't going to
answer. Then, in the smallest of whispers, "I did."

"You did? Harry, why would you do such a thing?" Even as he asked, Remus
guessed the answer, and he started to feel slightly sick. Why had they left Harry
there for so long?

"I was having nightmares," Harry said simply. "I woke my uncle and aunt up one
night shouting. After that, I just thought that it would be best."

"Is that how you got the bruise on your face? That night, when your relatives
woke up?"

Harry nodded, looking back down at his lap.

Lupin tried to contain his fury. It was lucky that Vernon Dursley was far away
from Grimmauld Place, for if he hadn't been, he would have been very sorry
indeed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want you to come for me. People are safer when I'm not there." The
emotion behind the words rent Remus’s heart, and he immediately moved to
another part of his plan.

"Harry James Potter," he said firmly, and Harry's eyes widened at the abrupt
change in tone. "It is not for you to decide what the rest of us do and do not do.
We make our own choices, and we know the risks we take every day. You are not
going to be able to stop us from taking those risks.

"In times like these, kid, people have to take risks. It's the only way any of us are
going to survive. Since I met you in your third year, Harry, I have watched you
risk your own life for your friends many times. Why do you think that you have
the right to risk yourself for us, but not allow us to do the same?"

"Sirius came for me," Harry whispered, feeling the familiar lump come back up
into his throat, "and it was the last thing he ever did."

Those words hung in the air as Remus tried to keep his eyes from welling. Sirius
had been his best friend in the world and not a minute went by that he did not
miss his presence in the gloomy old house. Despite his best effort to hide it,
Harry saw the tears in his former professor's eyes and pulled away. "I'm sorry,
Professor Lupin. I know he was your friend. If you can't forgive me for making
him go to the Ministry, well, I don't deserve to be forgiven anyway."

Remus knew then that Harry had not heard what he had been telling him while he
was unconscious. "Harry, look at me."

Harry's eyes stayed down.

"Look at me!" When Harry finally raised his eyes, Remus continued, "Harry, I am
only going to say this once, so see that you listen. Sirius’s death was not your
fault. Voldemort played on your loyalty to those you loved, and tricked you into
going there. He knew you would risk your own life for your godfather. Voldemort
doesn't understand that kind of love, but he knew that the one way to get you to
the Department of Mysteries that night was to play on what he sees as your
weakness, your ability to love. Sirius came after you for the same reason. Sirius
loved you, Harry, and he could not have lived with himself if he hadn't gone.

"Bellatrix Lestrange killed Sirius, her own cousin. She killed him. The blame lies
with her, and she will never find forgiveness, never find absolution from that."

"But if I hadn't gone, she wouldn't have had the chance to kill him," Harry said
softly.

"When you thought Sirius was in danger, Harry, you had no choice but to go, just
as he had no choice when he thought you were. I miss him, too. He was my
dearest friend, but not for one second do I blame you for it. Not for one moment
have I ever blamed you for it."

Harry's face screwed up, and Remus saw that he was fighting not to sob. His
heart broke for the boy, and he leaned in and gathered him into a fierce hug. "It's
okay to cry sometimes, Harry."

Harry finally let go and sobbed great wracking sobs into the shoulder of his old
professor. When he finally stopped some ten minutes later, Remus could see that
Harry was worn out again, but his heart lightened considerably when he also saw
that Harry's face, though blotchy and tearstained, was more peaceful.

"It's time to take your potions again, Harry. After that, I want you to sleep. We've
talked enough for now, and Madam Pomfrey will have my head if you don’t get
your rest." He went to the chest and took not three, but four vials from the
assortment and brought them to Harry. This time, Harry did not question anything
but drank the four potions, chased the taste away with a sip of cool water, settled
back down into his pillows, and fell asleep in minutes.

Back to index
 Chapter 7: Protection Gone Astray by WriterLady

Chapter 7: Protection Gone Astray

As Molly searched for eggs in the ancient icebox of the cellar kitchen, she
wondered what Remus and Harry were talking about upstairs. She knew that she
had done the right thing in leaving them alone, but her worry about Harry was
growing even though he was awake and aware now. What had been happening to
him when she came into the room? Why were his hands over his ears? She had
never seen Harry act that way before.

Molly was relieved that Remus had agreed to take over guardianship of Harry. It
made sense that Sirius would have left his godson in the hands of the last
Marauder, and Molly secretly thought that Remus was more suited to the role
than Sirius had been. She intended to help him, though. Ever since she had met
Harry on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters before his first year, she had taken a
special interest in him. Now that Harry was back with them, she was going to see
to it that he made a full recovery, no matter what she had to do.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, finding a basket of eggs near the back of the icebox. She
broke four of them into a glass bowl and pointed her wand at the kitchen whisk.
She watched the whisk merrily scramble the eggs while she heated the skillet and
started on some sausage and toast, turning as she heard someone enter the
room.

"Good morning, Ginny. How did you sleep?"

Ginny was wearing a long, bright red nightgown that reached past her knees and
clashed violently with her hair. "All right, Mum. What time is it? Can we see Harry
now?" After some consultation, Molly and Lupin had decided not to risk waking
Harry the night before, and had told Ron and Ginny that they could see him in the
morning.

"I'm about to take Harry's breakfast to him. You may come with me, dear, if you
hurry upstairs and get dressed. It wouldn't be proper for Harry and Remus to see
you in only your nightgown. We aren't at the Burrow anymore." Molly's gentle
reprimand caused Ginny to blush, and, telling her mother not to go without her,
she hurried back up the stairs to change.

Watching her go, Molly absentmindedly finished cooking the breakfast. She
wondered what her daughter was so anxious about. Of course they were all
worried about Harry, but there seemed to be something more going on with
Ginny. She seemed even more anxious than Ron to see Harry, and that was
saying a lot, as Ron had spent the better part of an hour the night before (after he
had sent Pig to the Granger's) trying to convince his mother that Harry would
want to see him.
Molly realized that she hadn't seen Dean Thomas's gray screech owl since the
day before Harry's arrival. She wondered about that, too, and she sighed. Ginny
was becoming a young lady more quickly than Molly was prepared for. She would
be entering her fifth year of school, the year, Molly remembered, that she had
fallen in love with Arthur Weasley. The motherly witch knew that Ginny had once
had a schoolgirl crush on Harry, but she was starting to wonder now if it had
grown into something more.

When Ginny returned, she was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a Muggle t-
shirt that she had stolen from Fred's closet. "Come on, Mum!" she said hurriedly
as she took the tray of breakfast from her mother and backed out the kitchen
door.

When they arrived in Sirius’s room, Molly was dismayed to find that Harry had
already gone back to sleep. "Remus!" she whispered, beckoning to him. "Harry
needs to eat something. Should we wake him?"

"No," Remus said softly. "I gave him a dreamless sleep potion along with the
others."

"Why did you do that? Why couldn't it wait until after Harry had some proper food
in his stomach? Look at him! He looks better, but he is still skin and bones!"
Molly couldn't help but be annoyed. Remus had known that she was making
breakfast. Why didn't he wait?

"Molly, let's discuss this outside."

Molly noticed the concern in his eyes and stopped her whispered tirade, but she
still felt a bit annoyed. Casting a charm on Harry's plate to keep it piping hot until
he woke up, she turned to Ginny. "Would you like to sit with him for awhile, dear?
As I'm sure you can see, he is doing much better, but he'll need to see a friendly
face when he wakes up."

Ginny nodded. "Mum...has Harry been crying?" She had never known Harry to
cry, but the puffiness around his eyes and the blotches on his face were tell-tale
signs of a good fit of the sobs.

It was Remus who answered, smiling at her with a mixture of sadness and
understanding. "Yes, Ginny, although it is probably best if you don't let on that
you know that."

Ginny nodded again; she understood that, as she had been doing a fair bit of
crying herself the past few days. As Molly and Professor Lupin left the room, she
took a seat in the old armchair and took Harry's hand in both of hers, as she had
seen her mother do so many times in the past few days. Even though Ginny had
not been able to bring herself to enter Harry's room while he was unconscious,
she had peeked in several times, mostly to reassure herself that he was still alive.

Even though Harry was lying flat on his bed, his eyes closed and his face still
dangerously thin, it was easily apparent that he was sleeping naturally now,
rather than unconscious as he had been. For one thing, he had some color in his
face, and there was just something about his peaceful expression that calmed
Ginny's heart.

"Harry, it's me, Ginny," she began. She felt a little silly talking to him. She knew
well enough that people under the influence of sleeping potions did not hear the
voices of people around them. However, she had seen her mother doing the same
thing when Harry had been unconscious, and she reasoned that somewhere,
deep down inside of him, Harry would hear her voice, if not her words.

"I've got loads to tell you, of course. The summer's only just begun, but so far we
haven't had a dull day. Mostly, of course, everyone's been worried sick about you.
What were you on about, starving yourself until you almost died? Don't you know
what that did to us? To Professor Lupin? To Ron? Not to mention my mum. She's
been in a right state, I don't mind telling you." Ginny had not heard what Harry
had said to Lupin about why he hadn't been eating, and she incorrectly assumed
that Harry had simply gotten so depressed that he wasn't taking care of himself.
That made her angry, even if she wasn't certain why.

"You great prat, Harry Potter!" she burst out. "If things were so bad, why didn't
you tell us? Didn't you know that we would come for you if you needed us? Or do
you think we were all just hanging around here having a grand old time without
you?"

Ginny forced herself to calm down, wondering what in the world had made her
talk to Harry like that. Just because he couldn't hear her was no excuse. Her voice
softened. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can only imagine what you have been going through
since Sirius died...I can remember how I felt when Dad was attacked last year and
we all thought he wasn't going to make it." Ginny's grip on his hand tightened as
she remembered, and she felt an upsurge of pity for her friend. Her dad had lived,
but Harry had lost his godfather, the closest thing he had to a dad himself. Maybe
she couldn't really understand what he was feeling. With a shudder at the thought
of losing one of her parents, she hoped she'd never have to understand.

Ginny got off this rather depressing subject and started to tell Harry everything
else going on in the house. She was surprised how easily the words came, even
though Harry was making no response.

"Dad hasn't been around too much, and we all miss him. Since you came, he's
taken over Mum's duties in the Order as well as his own. He's still working at the
Ministry, of course, so he leaves very early each morning and we usually don't
see him before we go to bed.

"I don't know exactly what the Order is getting up to these days. I know that,
based on what Snape has said, Voldemort is building a stronghold somewhere,
but since Voldemort is the Secret-Keeper for it, the old bat hasn't been able to
reveal the location to us. You wouldn't believe it, but it was actually Mum who let
that one slip!" Ginny giggled. "Of course, she forbid us all to talk about it, even to
each other, but you know from experience how well that went over."

"Fred and George have finally invented their version of the nose-biting teacup for
their shop. Theirs is better than the one from Zonko’s. Not only does it try to bite
whoever drinks from it, but it makes little noises and hops around like it's trying
to challenge the person to a duel. Of course, if there is any tea in it, it all splashes
out. It's brilliant! Mum, I think, has finally gotten over the fact that Fred and
George are going to be at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for a long time. Business is
booming, and she doesn't try to forbid them to make new products anymore,
although she does shout when one of them interferes with whatever she is trying
to do.

"You know what else, Harry? We all reckon that Ron and Hermione have got
together! By something Ron let slip yesterday when you woke up, we gather that
Pig could get to the Granger's with his eyes closed and one wing tied behind his
back by now. Hermione is actually spending the holiday with her parents, for
once. They insisted, and she does miss them quite a lot. When you get up and
around, you ask Ron about it, and you had better tell me what you find out!"

Taking a breather from her chatter, Ginny looked around. There was really no
more gossip she could tell Harry right now. She cast about for something else to
talk about, enjoying being alone with her friend and knowing that once Ron, Fred
and George woke up, she wasn't likely to get another opportunity like this for
today or the rest of the summer, for that matter.

She lowered her voice. Maybe it was a good thing that Harry wasn't hearing a
word of her banter, for she had something she wanted to get off her chest, but
she wasn't sure if she was really ready for Harry to actually know. Maybe telling
him while he was asleep would put the idea in the back of his mind without him
ever knowing how it got there. "Dean and I split a few days ago. He sent his owl
the day before you came here and said that if all I could talk about was you, then
maybe we should just be friends.

"The funny thing, Harry, is that I didn't feel too upset by it. I mean, I like Dean, of
course, but I was starting to wonder if I really felt that way about him. And I can't
really blame him...I think I have been rather unfair to him, but the fact is that I
have been so worried about you that I really couldn't think about anything else. I
can't blame him for being jealous, I suppose, although I don't really know if there
is anything to be jealous of.

"All I do know is that when I thought you might die, it drilled a hole right through
my heart. You can't ever leave me...I mean, leave us. We love you, Harry."

With these words, Ginny was finally spent. Somewhere in the back of her mind,
she knew that she'd had that whole one-sided conversation simply to get that last
sentence out. She leaned over and put her cheek to Harry's chest, and sat,
listening to his steady heartbeat and shallow breaths. She didn't know why, but
she had an indescribable need just to be close to him.

***

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Molly rounded on Remus Lupin and
demanded, "What happened to Harry? What was going on when I came into the
room? Did he tell you?"

Remus passed a hand over his weary eyes. "Molly, I'll tell you everything I know,
but I want to see if Dumbledore is still here. There are a couple of things we
should all talk about."

Molly nodded nervously as they made their way to the drawing room, and she had
to ask, "Remus, is he all right? What caused him to get so ill?"

"Just a minute, Molly." They entered the drawing room to find Albus Dumbledore
still sitting in the wing chair where Remus had left him. He was staring into the
grate, but had not started a fire as the room was already rather warm. He looked
up as they entered.

"Ah, Molly, Remus," he greeted them. "Have you anything to report?"

They stared at him. Anything to report? That was an odd way to ask about Harry,
as if he were just another piece of business for the Order to discuss.

"Harry told me what happened to him this summer, Albus," Remus began. "And
there are some things that happened that you should know about."

Dumbledore nodded, and gestured for both of them to sit down.

"First of all," Remus began, "Harry was not trying to hurt himself, as I had initially
feared. He was trying to eat, but he said that every bite made him sick, and I think
eventually he got too weak to even try."
"And the gag? The bruise?" Molly wondered.

"Harry tied the gag around his mouth himself, Molly."

Molly gasped. She had been fully expecting to hear that his uncle had done it.
"Why?"

"Apparently he was having nightmares, and he woke his relatives one night when
he woke up screaming. That's where the bruise came from," Remus answered.
His voice was as calm as ever, but he was gripping the arms of his wingchair so
tightly in suppressed rage that his knuckles were white. "He said after that he
thought it would be best for him to stifle any sound, and since he couldn't use
magic, he tied the t-shirt around his mouth."

"How horrible," Molly whispered.

Albus Dumbledore had yet to comment. So far, nothing Remus had said
surprised him. He knew that Harry had a tendency to have nightmares, which was
the only outlet for the fears and regrets the boy kept bottled up during his waking
hours. He also knew that for the most part Harry tried to stay out of his relatives'
way. After his uncle had hit him, he would have tried any way he could not to
wake them again.

"Why didn't Harry say anything?" Molly asked desperately. "Last summer hardly
a day went by when he wasn't demanding that we come and take him away and
tell him what had been happening with You-Know-Who."

"I wondered the same thing, and he said that he didn't want us to come for him,
that people are safer when he's not there."

Albus turned suddenly to look at Harry's guardian. Something in the man's voice
suggested that Harry had more reason than usual to think something like that.
"Did he say why, Remus?" he asked.

"He said he'd been hearing things, a voice inside his head that told him if he
didn't give in, more people would die, and that his head had been hurting the
entire time he heard it."

Albus sighed. Ever since Harry had awoken so terrified, so broken, he had feared
something like this. "Voldemort," he said softly.

"I'm afraid so," Remus answered. "At first, I thought it was Harry's guilt that was
speaking through his nightmares. But it appears there is more to it than that."

Molly was shaking, her face white. "I thought you said he was safe, Albus! That's
why he had to stay there, because You-Know-Who couldn't find him, couldn't hurt
him while he was there! We should never have sent him away!" Her voice started
to rise.

Albus held up a hand to silence Molly. "Throughout Harry's life thus far, Privet
Drive has been the one place Voldemort could not find him. Make no mistake; he
knows the location well enough, but the wards around the house have made it
impossible for him to harm Harry or his relatives while Harry is there. It would
appear that while Voldemort has not been able to physically penetrate the wards,
he at last found a way to break past them and into Harry's mind. He is a very
skilled legilimens, as you are aware."

"So you believe...you believe that You-Know-Who has actually been speaking to
Harry all summer?" Molly asked the Headmaster.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, that is what I believe," Albus said sadly. For his
own part, he regretted that he had not better protected Harry, but he had believed
that he was safe at Privet Drive, what with the blood protection, the powerful
wards surrounding the house, and the members of the Order keeping a constant
watch.

"Harry feels as though Sirius’s death was his fault, as you both know," Remus
said. "I cannot imagine what he has been going through, and as if that wasn't
enough, he had Voldemort's voice in his head telling him that Sirius would not be
the last to die." He did not mention the prophecy, for it would be Harry's choice to
tell Mrs. Weasley when he was ready.

"What mental defenses Harry has would have been down significantly after his
ordeal at the Department of Mysteries and the loss of Sirius. It would have made it
easier than usual for Voldemort to break into his mind," Dumbledore said.

"And you thought sending him to those people would help him become stronger,
did you? Thought that being all alone with no one to care for him would keep him
safe, did you? He should have been here with us!" Molly's voice rose again, and
both Remus and Dumbledore could hear the blatant anger behind her words.

"Molly, please," Remus said softly. "There was no way we could have known –"

"No, Remus," Albus interrupted. "Molly is right to a certain extent. I put too much
faith in the wards surrounding his aunt's house and in the blood protection itself.
I do not know, however, if we would have been able to prevent this, even here."
His voice was incredibly sad, and he felt the heavy weight of Harry's distress on
his mind.

"Was that what happened as Harry woke up and why he suddenly became so
terrified?" Remus asked.
"I was afraid so at the time," Dumbledore answered, "and what you have told us
only confirms my suspicions. I think when Harry was so deeply unconscious his
mind was unreachable, and Voldemort was unable to find him. When Harry began
to come around enough to hear our voices, Voldemort was able to break back in
as well."

"What are we going to do?" Molly whispered. "We have to help him."

"The first thing to do is to get him healthy again. Madam Pomfrey has left potions
that will allow Harry to eat and help his body recover from the dehydration and
starvation that it went through," Remus answered. "Harry needs to see his
friends, to be with them and with us. He should not be left alone, even for a
moment, until he becomes strong enough to try to resist Voldemort."

Molly nodded.

"I will come daily to work with Harry on building his defenses against him,"
Dumbledore added. "I am afraid I made a mistake last year in assigning Severus
Snape the task of teaching Harry occlumency. The discord between the two
prevented Harry from being able to properly block Voldemort from his mind."

"It seems you have been making many mistakes when it comes to Harry's well-
being," Molly broke in, glaring at the Headmaster.

"Molly!" exclaimed Remus.

"I will not deny it," Dumbledore answered softly. "But Molly, I care for Harry more
than you could know, and the mistakes I have made have always been because I
care for him so much. I must return to Hogwarts. I have some preparations I need
to make for Harry's training. I will come to begin Harry’s training tomorrow
morning."

All three stood, and Dumbledore swept quickly from the room. Molly and Remus
looked at one another, and both were struck by the immense weight of sadness in
the other's eyes. It was going to be a long road for Harry, and even with all the
help they were willing to give him they were afraid it would not end happily.

Back to index
 Chapter 8: Coming Back by WriterLady
Chapter 8: Coming Back

"I'm telling you, Ginny; nothing is going on between me and Hermione!" Ron's
voice was half angry, half amused as he looked at his sister's playful face. "She's
just worried about Harry like the rest of us, and since she can't be here, someone
has to tell her what's happening."

"You've been writing every day! Come on, just let me see one of her letters! If it's
all about Harry, what do you have to hide?" Ginny teased.

"Don't be stupid, Ginny. You don't go around reading other people's owls!"

"Why not? She's saying the same things to you that she's saying to me, right?
That she's glad to be with her parents, but would rather be here...that she's
worried about Harry and she's been reading loads of books about losing
someone you love. That's all she's writing to you, right?"

Ron's ears were beginning to take on a red glow, and Ginny knew she was getting
to him. She hadn't been around six older brothers her entire life without learning
how to get under their skins.

"Get off it, Ginny. You're not going anywhere near my letters from Hermione," he
said defensively.

"All right, then," Ginny said cheerfully. "I'll just write to her and ask what's going
on. You know, we are girlfriends...we tell each other everything!" She smiled.

"That's a brilliant idea," said a hoarse voice from the bed in the middle of the
room.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, hurrying over to his bedside. It was the first time she
had seen him awake since he had arrived at headquarters five days before.

"Harry!" Ron echoed, going to the other side of the bed. "How are you, mate? It's
about time you woke up."

Harry smiled at his two friends, the first real smile on his face since the beginning
of the summer. "I'm...a bit thirsty, actually."

Ginny hurried off to get Harry a glass of water, and Ron rolled his eyes. "I see
how it's going to be, then. You get to lie around and we get to do all the work.
Right. What else can I get for you, sir?"

Harry grinned again. "Well," he said, pretending to think about it, "I could use
some good reading material. Been writing any letters lately?"
Ron gaped at him. Here they had all been, worried sick about Harry since the
beginning of the holidays, and the first thing he says to Ron is to tease him about
letters from Hermione?

"I’m only joking," Harry said, actually enjoying Ron's disbelief. It felt good to be
with his friends, to be talking about something fun rather than the dark,
foreboding topics he had discussed with Remus and Dumbledore since he had
woken up. The dreamless sleep potion Remus had given him had done him a
world of good. For the first time all summer, he had been able to sleep restfully
and peacefully for close to ten hours...no voices, no nightmares, just blissfully
quiet sleep. To wake up in the middle of a playful row between Ron and Ginny
made him feel that much better.

Ginny came back into the room with a tall glass of water, closely followed by Mrs.
Weasley, who had a kind smile on her motherly face.

"Harry, dear," she said, stooping to give him a gentle hug. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks, Mrs. Weasley." Harry took a sip of the water Ginny offered him and
found that, rather than making him feel sick as it had when he was at the
Dursleys, it felt cool and refreshing going down his throat. He was still very weak,
though, and his hands shook so that the water spilled a bit. Mrs. Weasley took the
glass from him.

"There now, let's just take it one step at a time, shall we?" She turned to the side
table and picked up the steaming plate of sausage and eggs she had made for
him that morning. It was still hot and fresh due to the warming charm she had
cast. "How about a spot of breakfast, then?"

"Breakfast!" Ron snorted. "Mum, it's five o'clock at night!"

"I know that, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered him. "But Harry's only just awake. I
thought that breakfast food might still sound good. Does it, Harry?"

Harry suddenly looked uncertain. "Uh, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he answered

hesitantly. "But I don't think I can eat all that much." He still didn't feel hungry,
although the potions that Madam Pomfrey had given him had restored quite a lot
of his strength.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Weasley said sternly, remembering her vow that she would get
him healthy again, no matter what. "Harry, you must eat. You don't have to eat
much to start, but I insist you eat no less than half of what is on this plate. Those
potions help you feel stronger, but every body needs good meals to stay strong
and healthy." She sounded almost like the mother of a three-year-old who has
refused to eat anything but chocolate. "Now," she said, "You just name what
sounds good to you, and I'll have it made in a jiffy."
Harry remembered what Professor Lupin had said that morning about Mrs.
Weasley's determination to feed him, and knew that this was a battle he would not
win. "This looks fine, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks." He reached for the plate, but to his
surprise, Ginny took it from her mother and held it slightly away from him.

"Don't be silly, Harry. You need help," she said gently, sounding remarkably like
her mother.

"I can lift a fork, can't I?" said Harry indignantly.

"Ginny, Harry's not going to let you feed him like some invalid," Ron said,
laughing. "Why don't we help him sit up a bit straighter and put the plate in his
lap?"

"Quite right," Mrs. Weasley said approvingly. She added more pillows behind
Harry's back, and took the plate from Ginny, settling it squarely on Harry's thin
legs. "Now eat up, Harry."

Harry could tell Ginny was embarrassed, and he wanted to keep the conversation
light. "Thanks anyway, Ginny. If I ever need someone to feed me, though, you'll
be the first person I ask?" He blushed suddenly. What on earth had made him say
that? He glanced sideways at Ginny and saw that she was blushing too.

"I'd better, erm..." she stammered, her cheeks flaming, "go send an owl to
Hermione. You know, so she'll know you're better." Ginny left the room quickly,
Ron's astonished gaze following her out.

"What in the world was that all about?" Ron said wonderingly, and exchanged a
glance with Harry that plainly said, "Girls."

Mrs. Weasley was beginning to have an idea what was happening, but she held
her peace. Ginny and Harry would have to figure this one out on their own.
"Right, Harry," she said firmly, settling back into the old armchair. "Eat."

***

Half an hour later, Molly nearly ploughed over Remus Lupin as she came out of
Harry's room with his plate and glass. Knowing that Ron and Ginny would be with
Harry when he woke up and that seeing his friends would be good for Harry,
Remus had finally gone up to his third-floor bedroom to get a much-needed rest.

"Remus!" Molly said, stopping short and almost dropping the dishes. "Did you
have a good rest? You look better." He did look better. The bags under his eyes
had diminished and they seemed to be a bit brighter and less sad than they had
been before.

"I did, Molly, thank you. I see you finally got Harry to eat something," he said,
indicating the plate.

"Yes," Molly said in relief. "He couldn't eat all of it, but he managed about half of
his eggs, a piece of sausage, and some toast."

"That's wonderful," Remus smiled, knowing how important it was to Molly that
Harry begin to eat normally. He lowered his voice. "How does he seem? He hasn't
had any...problems...since he woke up, then?"

"No," answered Molly. "He seemed happy to see Ron and Ginny, and he and Ron
have been arguing about Quidditch again. I take that as a good sign."

"It is indeed."

"I told the children to keep the conversation light for now. Harry doesn't need to
be made to talk about his experiences until he is considerably stronger."

"That is probably a good idea. He will talk to them when he is ready to do so."

Molly nodded. "Are you going in to see him now?"

"Yes," Remus answered. "Tomorrow's the full moon, so I wanted to spend as

much time with Harry as I can before I have to leave for a couple of days."

Molly nodded again, feeling pity for Remus as she always did when the full moon
came. She had heard that werewolf transformations were extremely painful, and
knew that the man hated what he became once a month. "Have you been taking
the Wolfsbane potion this week?"

"Yes, Severus has been kind enough to provide it for me. I've never been much at
potions. Tomorrow night I will go up into my room and sleep away the time as a
wolf, but I won't be allowing Harry or anyone else to see me, just in case." He
shuddered.

They both jumped a bit when they heard a large crack coming from Harry's room
as the twins apparated there from the kitchen, where they had arrived from the
fire in their shop on Diagon Alley. Molly smiled. She was used to her sons' choice
of professions now, even proud of them, and knew that their boisterous presence
could only cheer Harry up even more. Nothing was dull when Fred and George
were around.

"Have you spoken to Arthur today?" Remus asked.

"Not today. He's been dealing with some situation involving a Muggle eclectic
lamp enchanted so it gives anyone near it a bad sunburn."

Remus grimaced. Anti-muggle pranks had been on the rise lately and had
become more vicious, from what he could gather from Arthur's news from his job
in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. "I'm sure he'll
get everything sorted out; he always does."

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a hoarse yell from
inside Harry's bedroom. Remus pushed past Molly and hurried into the room,
expecting to find Harry in the throes of another mental attack from Voldemort.
Instead, he was surprised to find Fred, George, and Ron doubled over in silent
laughter as Harry rubbed his nose with one hand and held a struggling china
teacup in the other, his lap covered in tea. He had shouted only in surprise and
slight pain from the teacup's bite. Now that he had recovered from the shock, he
was grinning.

"That was wicked!" he complimented the twins. "I had no idea you made one of
these. It’s better than the Zonko's one, too."

"Fred! George!" Everyone turned at the sound of Mrs. Weasley's furious voice
from the doorway. "What in the world were you thinking? Harry needs rest. He is
in no condition to play test dummy for your joke shop!"

"Sorry, Mum," said George, plainly struggling to keep a straight face. "We just
thought he could do with a bit of a laugh."

"Then tell him a joke! Honestly, where is your sense of responsibility? You come
in here where Harry is still lying sick in bed, and you play this kind of prank on
him! He needs his rest! Now all of you, OUT!" She bellowed the last word, and
knowing that she was going to keep ranting at them if they stayed, Fred and
George apparated with another loud crack.

"You too, Ron! I can't believe you let them do this! Now go and find something to
do until dinner, and leave Harry to his rest."

"But, Mum –"

"No buts, Ronald Weasley. I want you out of this room. Now!" With a disgusted
look at his mother, Ron left to go find Ginny. He had some of his own teasing to
do now.

"Harry, dear, are you all right? Did you get burned?"

"No, Mrs. Weasley," answered Harry, still grinning. "I reckon they made sure the
tea was cool before they gave it to me."
"All right, dear. Why don't you have a rest for a while, then. I'll bring you up a spot
of dinner in a couple of hours. Remus, will you stay until then?" Remus nodded,
and took his usual place in the old armchair. Molly picked up the dishes again
and left to go do a bit of housework and start on dinner.

"Do you need sleep, Harry?" Remus asked him after he had helped Harry change
into another pair of pajama pants and given him a dry blanket.

"No, I'm not tired. Was one of those potions you gave me this morning for
dreamless sleep?"

Remus nodded. "Sorry, Harry, but I thought you could use a real bit of rest."

"Thanks," Harry said softly. He was still feeling happier than he had in weeks, but
seeing his former professor brought back some of the pain he had forgotten
while he was joking around with the Weasleys.

Remus began, "Harry – "just as Harry said, "Professor -"

Harry gestured that Remus should go first. He began, "Harry, how about if we
drop the 'Professor' bit. I haven't been your teacher in over two years. You may
call me Remus...or even 'Moony' if you prefer."

Harry smiled slightly at him. It would be strange to call his old professor by his
first name, but he knew it was something he could get used to. "OK...Moony," he
said, trying it out. He found he liked the sound of it.

Remus patted him on the arm. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he said
lightly. "Now, there is something I would like you to know, and to agree to."

Harry was curious. What was it that Moony wanted him to agree to? "Okay," he
said.

"Sirius, like all of the members of the Order, had a will, and he was very definite
on a few points."

At the mention of Sirius, Harry's slight grin faded completely to be replaced by

the sad look Remus had already come to know all too well.

"I know it's hard, kid. But you need to know a few things."

Harry nodded that he should go on, knowing that there was nothing he could say
to make Moony stop talking about Sirius.

"The most important thing he wrote in his will had to do with you."
"With me?" Harry asked.

"Yes...concerning your guardianship."

Harry was surprised. He knew Sirius was his godfather, of course, but he had
always thought the Dursleys were his guardians. He must have had a confused
look on his face, because Remus continued, "Yes, the Dursleys have always
taken care of you, if you could call it that," he paused, trying to quell the anger he
always felt at the thought of the Dursleys. "But in the magical world, wills are
binding and cannot be questioned. In your parents' will, they specified that Sirius
was to be your guardian if anything happened to them. Sirius signed the will, and
that made it binding. Sirius was your legal guardian, even though you had to live
with the Dursleys all those years. Even if he hadn't been sent to Azkaban," Remus
and Harry both winced, "Even if he had been free, you most likely would still have
had to go to the Dursleys, for your own protection."

Harry nodded; he knew all about the blood protection now, and since Sirius
hadn't been related to him by blood, it would not have been in effect if Harry had
stayed with him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how different things would
have been if Sirius had been around while he was growing up.

"In Sirius's will, he specified that if anything were to happen to him, I would
become your guardian, and I agreed."

Harry stared at him. This was certainly not what he had expected when Remus
said he wanted to talk to him, mainly because he had not known that Sirius was
legally responsible for him. When he thought about it, though, it made sense.
Remus was Sirius's closest friend and was the last remaining Marauder, because
no one considered Peter Pettigrew to be one anymore.

"Harry, I am now legally your guardian until you reach the age of seventeen. I
signed Sirius's will, and it is a binding magical contract. However, I wanted to see
what you thought of it. If you would rather the Weasleys..." his voice trailed off.

"No, Moony," Harry cut in. "You were my dad’s and Sirius’s best friend. If Sirius
wanted you to be my guardian, then that is what I want, too. Only..."

"Only what, Harry?"

"Only, do I have to go back to the Dursleys? Voldemort got to me there, you know
he did, so I don't know what protection they still offer me. Maybe after Voldemort
took my blood in the graveyard fourth year, it doesn't work anymore or
something."

Remus sighed. He certainly didn't want Harry to have to go back to Privet Drive,
but he knew that he could not promise that he wouldn't have to go back. "Let's
cross that bridge when we come to it, all right? I just don't know the answer to
that question."

Harry nodded. It was the answer he had expected, even if it was not the one he
had hoped for.

"There's also the question of Sirius's personal belongings and his money,"
Remus continued, wanting to get the subject off of the Dursleys.

"His money?" Harry asked blankly. He had known that Sirius's family had been
wealthy, but he had never even given it a thought.

"He left you everything, Harry," Remus said with a trace of a smile. "Well, almost
everything. He left a tidy sum of gold for me, and some for the Weasleys. But you
were his main beneficiary."

"But I don't need Sirius's money," Harry protested. "My parents already left me
more than I need." Talking about Sirius's fortune had made Harry feel like he had
profited off Sirius's death, and it was an uncomfortable feeling.

"Harry, I know how you feel. I felt the same way when I first found out what he had
left for me," Remus said softly. "However, if you don't accept the inheritance, it
will automatically go to his next of kin. In this case, that means that the Black
fortune would be split between the Malfoys and the Lestranges."

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "Sirius would never have wanted that."

"Precisely, which is why he left everything to you. You are a wealthy man now,
Harry. And I know that would make Sirius happy – he wanted to make sure you
were always taken care of."

Harry nodded, knowing that he had little choice. He could never let Narcissa
Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange get their hands on anything that had belonged to
his godfather.

"The money has been left in trust for you at Gringotts until you come of age. All
you need to do to access it is talk to me. I'm the executor."

"I don't think I'll need it for a long time. I still have most of the money my parents
left me."

"That's fine, Harry. Just know it is there if you need it, and that you have nothing
to feel bad about in using it. This is what Sirius wanted."

Harry cast about for a change of subject. He couldn't bear to talk about Sirius any
longer. "So, when am I allowed to get out of bed?" he asked.
"Madam Pomfrey will come tomorrow morning to check you out. She'll let us
know, but I daresay it won't be too long now that you're getting your strength
back."

Harry nodded, but the talk about Sirius's will had made the lead weight in his
heart grow even heavier than it had been before, and he felt the despair rising up
inside of him again. Almost as if it had been waiting for Harry to feel this way, his
scar suddenly burned like fire, and he clapped his hands over it, what color he
had draining from his face.

Remus started and stood up quickly, grabbing Harry's chin and forcing the boy's
troubled eyes to look up into his own. "Harry, look at me...Harry, are you all
right?"

Harry's eyes rolled back up into his head, and his entire body started to tremble.
Lupin sat down on the bed next to him and took him by both his shoulders.

"Harry, fight this! You have to fight it. Listen to me! It's Moony, I'm here with you.
You're going to be all right, but you have to fight!"

Harry could vaguely hear Moony's voice, but his words were drowned out in the
hateful hiss that now filled his mind. "

The werewolf will be next, Potter. Are you ready? And after that, it will be the
Mudblood and the blood traitors. None will survive...they will all die at my hand...I
look forward to it. Oh yes, the pleasure of taking them down is something I have
been anticipating for a long time...almost as much as the pleasure of destroying
you. Give yourself up, Potter, and I may spare their lives...

"

Harry's entire body jerked, and Remus watched, horrified, as Harry began to
moan, "No...you can have me...but leave...them...alone..."

"Harry, no!" Remus shouted, desperate to get through to him. "Fight! Push him
out of your mind. It's all a trick, Harry! Don't give him what he wants! Fight it!" He
shook Harry's shoulders slightly as Harry tossed his head back and forth, his
scar feeling like it was going to burn a hole straight through his head.

"It is all down to you, Harry Potter. Your godfather did not have to die. If you had
only given me what I wanted, he would never have had to come for you. It is your
love of playing the hero that killed him...do not be so foolish again. You will never
defeat me."

"Harry!" Remus shouted again, terrified of what this attack was doing to him.
"Fight it, Harry. You're stronger than this! You have to fight!"
The attack lifted as suddenly as it had begun, and Harry fell back onto his
pillows, completely limp, his eyes closed. Remus took a cool cloth from a bowl of
water and mopped Harry's sweaty forehead with it. Harry had fainted.

Remus never heard the soft whimper coming from the door, which had been left
open a crack. Ginny Weasley stood on the other side of it with a deck of
Exploding Snap cards in her hand, her face white and tears running down her
cheeks. She had come just in time to see the whole thing.

Back to index
 Chapter 9: Learning the Truth by WriterLady

Chapter 9: Learning the Truth

Hermione,

I saw Harry awake for the first time this morning. He seems all right. Mum said he
got sick and couldn't eat, and those Muggles didn't even notice that anything was
wrong with him. I don't understand why Harry has to go back there every
summer. But Mum says there's no other choice. At least he's here with us now,
and they are not going to send him back this holiday.

We all wish you were here. We could really use your brains trying to figure
everything out with Harry. I know you are happy to be home, but do you reckon
your parents would let you come to visit?

Ginny's starting to suspect something's up with you and me. She's always on
about it. Will you please tell her nothing's happening so she'll leave me alone?
This is between us for now, right?

Everyone else is doing okay here. Send your new owl back when you get a
chance.

Ron

Just as Ron was rolling up the small scroll of parchment to send to Hermione, he
heard a soft knock at his door. He groaned inwardly; he knew it would be Ginny
wanting to tease him for writing to Hermione again. He hastily attached the letter
to Pig's leg and opened the window to send the owl on his way.

When he opened the door he was not at all surprised to see Ginny, but it was
immediately apparent that she had not come to tease him. Her hand was clasped
tightly around a pack of Exploding Snap cards, and she was shaking, her face
pale white and tearstained.

"Ginny?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Ron –" she began, but the tears welled up in her eyes again and she could not
seem to form any other words. He led her into the room and she sat on the edge
of the bed Harry had slept in the previous summer.

"Blimey, Ginny, what's the matter?" Ron asked. He didn't think it could be about
Harry – they had left him less than an hour ago and he had been doing well,
almost back to normal. Maybe it was about Dean. Ron had never approved of that
relationship, but Ginny hadn't talked about Dean since before Harry had arrived,
so Ron really didn't know what to think.
"I saw...something was happening..." Ginny struggled with her words, her fear
showing plainly on her face. "Harry...having a dream or something...I don't know."

So it was about Harry. Ron felt a jolt of fear for his best friend. He had seen Harry
go through a lot and had been right beside him most of the time. But this time,
Harry seemed almost unreachable, as if whatever was plaguing him was inside of
him rather than a threat from the outside, a threat from Voldemort. Ron wondered
if Sirius’s death and everything Harry had to go through the past five years was
finally pushing his friend past his breaking point.

"What is it?" Ron asked softly.

Ginny sniffed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her t-shirt. She could not fall
apart. It was obvious that Harry needed them more than he ever had. "I went to
his room to see if he wanted a game of cards," she started. "I sort of thought he
might like the distraction, since I heard Mum sending you, Fred, and George out."

"Yeah, Fred and George gave Harry one of their biting teacups. Mum wasn't too
thrilled about that," Ron said.

"Right," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, the door was open a bit, and
Professor Lupin was talking to Harry. I was just about to knock when Harry
grabbed at his head all of a sudden, and Lupin starting shaking him and
shouting."

"Lupin was shouting at Harry?" Ron was confused. That didn't seem like the
even-tempered professor that he had come to know.

"Harry's eyes rolled back like he was having a fit, but then he started...talking, I
guess, but his voice didn't sound right."

"What did he say?"

"He said something like 'you can have me, but leave them alone.' Ron, what did
he mean by that? Who was he talking to? Lupin kept shouting at him to fight it,
but I don't understand. Fight what?"

Ron bit his lip, thinking hard. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place,
and he wished that Hermione were there to help him sort this out. She would have
figured it out immediately! Harry becoming so sick on Privet Drive that he
couldn't eat, Dumbledore spending every spare moment in Harry's room, the
haunted look in Harry's eyes, and the fact that the adults in the house would not
let Harry be alone even for a second, even when he was sleeping. "You-Know-
Who," he muttered. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not
seen what was happening to his best friend?
"What?" Ginny jumped off the bed and began to pace. "Ron, what are you talking
about? You-Know-Who, here? You’re barking mad!"

"Ginny, shut up for a second and let me think!" The wards around Privet Drive,
coupled with the blood protection from Harry's aunt, should have been enough to
keep Harry safe from any kind of attack from You-Know-Who or the Death Eaters.
But what if it wasn't? What if You-Know-Who had been able to break into Harry's
mind the way he had done when he tricked Harry into going to the Department of
Mysteries? This was bad...it was much worse than Ron had suspected, and he
didn't like to think of what Harry had been trying to deal with all alone on Privet
Drive. Of course, Harry didn't like to tell people what he was feeling...he always
thought that he had to go it alone...stupid prat!

Ron screwed his face up in thought, and Ginny waited a moment before she
broke in. "Want to clue the rest of us in on what's happening?"

Ron hesitated. Harry had never been as open with Ginny as he was with Ron and
Hermione, but without Hermione there, Ron needed someone else to talk to. He
noticed then, for the first time, that Ginny was hardly a little girl anymore. She
was going into her fifth year, after all, and Ron thought of all the things he, Harry,
and Hermione had been through by the time they reached fifth year. Perhaps he
could confide in Ginny about this.

"Ginny, you know how we found out that Harry's dream, or vision, or whatever
you call it, about Sirius in the Department of Mysteries was a trick?"

"Yeah," said Ginny slowly. "You-Know-Who made him think Sirius was in trouble
to get him to come."

"Right. Harry said Dumbledore reckoned that You-Know-Who had figured out that
Harry could break into his mind after Harry saw the attack on Dad." Ron
shuddered. He still didn't like to think of that. "And he also figured out that if
Harry could break into his mind, he could do the same thing."

"You-Know-Who can read Harry's mind?"

"Sort of," Ron answered thoughtfully, wishing again that Hermione was here to
sort through all of this with him. "Snape was trying to teach Harry how to block
him, but it never really worked. Harry kept having the dreams and until the thing
with Sirius happened, we all kind of thought it was a good thing, because, you
know, Harry saved Dad's life with it...we couldn't understand why everyone
wanted it to stop."

"If it hadn't been for Harry, Dad would have died," Ginny whispered.
"Yeah," said Ron almost as softly. "But Ginny, I think that You-Know-Who has
been getting into Harry's head again. I think that is what made him so sick. Maybe
that’s why he couldn't eat or sleep properly."

"But You-Know-Who can't get to him when he's on Privet Drive!" Ginny
exclaimed. "That's why he has to go there!"

"I know that, Ginny...but what if he found a way to do it?"

"Maybe Harry's only having nightmares again," Ginny suggested. "Who wouldn't,
after all he's been through?"

"Was Harry asleep when went all...strange?" Ron couldn't think of a better way to
put it. That was Hermione's department.

"No," Ginny answered, her face starting to register even more fear than before.
"No, he was awake, talking to Professor Lupin. He looked okay, and then...and
then he..." Against her will, Ginny's eyes started to fill again as she thought of the
scene she had witnessed.

"His dreams almost always happened late at night, after he had been asleep for a
bit," Ron answered. "I know that because I was usually there when they
happened, since we share a dormitory. If you say he wasn't asleep at all, then I
don't know how it could have been one of his dreams. Even when he had the
dream about Sirius, it was when he had dozed off in his History of Magic O.W.L."

"Ron, I'm scared," Ginny said, the slightest trace of panic in her soft voice.

"Me too," Ron answered, somewhat astonished with himself that he would
mention his fear to his sister.

"How can we help him?"

"I don't know. He seemed okay when we were all in his room, making jokes and
talking about Quidditch and stuff. I think right now we just need to be there for
him."

Ginny nodded. What her brother said made sense, and she couldn't help but
notice how much more intelligent and understanding Ron seemed when he
wasn't being overshadowed by Harry's heroism and Hermione's brain. As Ron got
up to write another letter to Hermione, she made a promise to herself that she
would help Harry through this. She was sick of watching on the sidelines as her
brother and even Hermione bumbled their way around Harry. He needed someone
to take care of him, and he had saved her life in her first year. She owed it to him.

***
"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley called cheerfully as she entered his room. "You have
some visit-"She broke off suddenly. Harry was curled into a ball under his covers,
clearly asleep, and Remus Lupin was sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand on
Harry's thin shoulder, the other covering his own eyes.

She crossed the room quickly, and Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, and
Arthur Weasley came into the room after her, halting when they saw the scene.
Harry looked almost as drained as he had when he had first arrived at
headquarters, and the peaceful look he had worn when he was talking to the
Weasley children had vanished. He looked drawn and pale again, and his
forehead and fringe were damp from sweat.

"Remus?" Molly put a hand on his arm. "What's happened? Is Harry all right?"

Remus looked up at her, his eyes sad and worried. "He's all right now, Molly.
Voldemort's broken into his mind again. I saw it happen."

"But the wards," Arthur protested feebly. "How could You-Know-Who get past the
wards? How could he find Harry?"

"I don't know, Arthur," answered Remus. "All I can think is that maybe Voldemort
no longer needs to know Harry's location to break into his mind."

Tonks interrupted. "But time and space matter in Legilimency! It's one of the
basic principles...if Voldemort didn't know where Harry was, how could he find
him to break into his mind?"

Alastor Moody answered in his gruff voice, "If Voldemort could find Harry here,
the place would be swarming with Death Eaters." He suddenly looked
suspiciously at the people gathered in Harry's room.

"The same could be said about Privet Drive, Moody," Remus reminded him. "And
from what Harry has said, I have to assume the same thing happened there.
Voldemort must have at least found a way around the wards mentally, even if he
couldn't get to him physically."

"The boy has got to learn Occlumency," Moody growled. "Right quickly, too."

"Dumbledore is coming every morning starting tomorrow to work with him on

that," Molly answered. "If anyone can teach Harry all he needs to know in a short
amount of time, it's Dumbledore."

The others nodded in agreement. Harry's eyes began to flutter, and the attention
in the room snapped to him as though attached to a rubber band.
"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks, trying to sound like her cheerful self and failing
miserably. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the five people surrounding his bed,
looking at him like he were some kind of exhibit.

"Erm, hi,” he said hoarsely.

"Harry, how do you feel?" Molly asked him gently, giving him a soft hug as he
struggled into a sitting position and reached for his glasses.

"All right," answered Harry. He noticed Moony looking askance at him, but
thankfully he didn't say a word, holding himself to what he had said to Harry –
that he could put up whatever kind of front he wanted for the others.

"Is there anything you need?" Remus asked in a businesslike tone.

"No," Harry said, looking down at his fingers, which were working the bedcovers
nervously.

"Do you need a potion for your headache?" Remus prodded quietly. "You have to
take your others as well, so it would only be one more."

Harry nodded, still not pulling his eyes up to look at the group.

Remus went to the dresser and pulled three small bottles out of the assortment.
"Harry, this one is the Strengthening Potion, this one is the Nutritive Potion, and
this one will help your headache, okay? Nothing fancy this time." Harry knew he
was referring to the Dreamless Sleep Potion that he had been given that morning.
He was almost tempted to ask for another dose of that, but he remembered from
Potions class that an overdose of that could put him into an irreversible sleep.

As Harry drank his potions, the adults in the room let out a collective sigh of relief
as the color returned immediately to Harry's face and his eyes lost some of their
dullness as his headache vanished.

"How are you feeling, son?" Arthur asked, calling him "son" automatically. He
was not as demonstrative as Molly, but he also thought of Harry as one of his
own children.

"Better, thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry answered, his voice sounding less hoarse
and more like the voice they were used to. "Those potions really work fast." He
attempted to smile at them, but the smile did not reach his green eyes.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Tonks, recovering some of her normal exuberance.

"Madam Pomfrey's pretty good, isn't she? I remember when I was at school I got
in the way of a bad hair-growing jinx. I looked like an old man by the time I got to
her, hair everywhere, but she set me to rights in seconds."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "She's really great."

"Harry, dear," Molly said. "Professor Dumbledore will be here tomorrow to start
working with you on your Occlumency. We'll have this taken care of before you
know it, so you just hang in there."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered, looking down at his hands again. Even
though he felt better, he could not forget Voldemort's threats on the people he
held dearest. He really had no right to expect help from them; they were in danger
just by being near him.

Remus seemed to read Harry's mind, and he said, "Harry, we are all here to help
you, like it or not. There's just not anything you can do about it."

"Right," said Arthur determinedly. Tonks, Molly, and even Moody nodded their
agreement.

"I think that Harry's probably ready for dinner," Molly proclaimed, looking at him
with narrowed eyes. Harry could almost see her daring him to argue with her
statement. "I've got a treacle tart baking. I know it's your favorite."

Harry nodded.

"Remus, Tonks, Alastor, would you like to come and help in the kitchen?" Molly
asked, although it wasn't really a request. Remus needed some time to recover
from what he had seen Harry going through, and Molly knew that Harry was not
yet close to Tonks or Moody and probably preferred to be with someone more
familiar right now. "Arthur can stay here with Harry. All right?" Lupin looked very
reluctant to leave Harry's side, but he agreed. They followed Molly out of the
room, leaving Arthur behind with Harry.

As they were closing the door behind them, they heard Arthur ask, "How about a
game of chess, Harry? Ron says you're quite good even though you can't beat
him. Don't worry about it; I can't beat him either." Molly was relieved; she thought
that Harry could use a calm diversion from such serious conversation, and she
was right in thinking that Arthur would be just the person to provide him with it.
He had always had a way of helping his children cope with difficulties without
overwhelming them with conversation, and she hoped the same would be true for
Harry.

Back to index
 Chapter 10: Occlumency Again by WriterLady

Chapter 10: Occlumency Again

"Think of it as similar to building a fortress or a castle," Dumbledore coached as

Harry sat in a straight-backed chair brought up from the kitchen, his eyes closed
tightly. Sirius’s bedroom was lit only by three candles on the dresser because
Professor Dumbledore wanted Harry to start his training with as few distractions
as possible – they would work up to a point at which Harry would be able to close
his mind in any environment.

"Concentrate on the walls to your fortress brick by brick, making certain there are
no cracks. Can you see your wall?"

Harry nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Think about the door to your fortress. It should be a strong door, not easily
penetrated by enemies."

"The door to Hogwarts," Harry mumbled, visualizing the huge doors which made
the school seem at once welcoming and secure.

Dumbledore smiled slightly."Yes, that is good, Harry."

"Now, if you have your fortress built, see yourself walking up to the door. Set a
password in your mind. Only you may enter and none other."

Dumbledore saw Harry's lips move silently. He is truly a remarkable boy,

Dumbledore thought. The old Headmaster had rarely seen anyone take so easily
to meditation on their first try. He knew that Harry wanted very badly to succeed,
and that was half the battle.

"When you have gone through the door, walk through your fortress. Notice how
strong the walls are, impenetrable to attack. Follow the hallways to the deepest,
most secure room. Leave your thoughts there, under lock and key. If you have
succeeded, no one will be able to access your thoughts but you." Dumbledore
knew that his explanation of the mental defenses had been simple, but he did not
want to overwhelm Harry on their first day. Once Harry had the basic idea, they
could strengthen his defenses further. "Are you ready to try it?"

Harry nodded, his eyes still shut tight. A few moments later, to his great surprise,
he felt Dumbledore's presence in his mind, gently probing, nothing like the
violent jolt he had felt last year when Snape had practiced on him. Harry's
surprise was so great that he did not even try to resist. A voice spoke in his head,
the memory of Voldemort’s attack on the previous evening:
"The werewolf will be the next to die..."

"No!" Harry shouted, and the voice stopped abruptly as Dumbledore left his mind.
Harry had not forced him out, but the Headmaster wanted to start slowly. When
Harry became upset, he lifted the spell voluntarily. Also, Dumbledore had been
somewhat shaken by the voice in Harry's memory – he had known that Harry's
mind was being attacked, but hearing it for himself was a different story.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked blankly, looking at Dumbledore, who was
gazing at him through his half-moon glasses with an inscrutable expression on
his face. "You never even said the incantation. I wasn't ready." He had not wanted
the Headmaster to hear what Voldemort had said. He didn't want anyone to have
to hear that.

"Professor Snape is an extremely accomplished Occlumens, Harry, but his

legilimency skills are minor compared to those of Voldemort or even myself. A
skilled Legilimens can enter your mind without an incantation, even without your
knowledge. With your very unusual situation, Harry, you must always be on your
guard. You must, in effect, practice Occlumency constantly."

Harry felt tired just thinking about it. "Professor," he said softly. "I don't know if I
can."

"You can, Harry, because you must. One of the things I have always admired
about you is that you always find a way to accomplish what you need to do. This
will not be an exception. It is not an easy task, but in time you will be able to
accomplish it automatically."

"How am I going to be able to concentrate on occlumency all the time?" Harry

asked. "It takes my whole mind just to imagine my fortress, much less try to keep
Voldemort out. How will I do other things at the same time?"

"You will not be able to at first, Harry. At first, you will live your life as you
normally do, but as soon as you feel Voldemort enter your mind, go back to your
fortress of thoughts and slam the door closed. You will become better at this as
we practice. And Harry, please remember that Voldemort is baiting you with the
things he says. He is trying to trick you into coming to him and making the job
easier. You must not give in, Harry. As you grow stronger at occlumency, you will
be able to push him from your mind, and you must not let your pain and your fear
stop you from doing so."

Harry's eyes, which had strayed downward as he thought of what he would have
to do, snapped up to the Headmaster. He did not know what to say to the look of
sadness which crossed the old man's face.
"It is natural to fear losing those we love, Harry, especially in times like these. It is
nothing to be ashamed of."

"But it's not just losing them, sir. My friends are in danger just because they are
close to me."

"Your love and concern for your friends is one of your greatest attributes, Harry,
but their loyalty to you is unwavering. Pushing them away will not make a
difference to the amount of danger they might find themselves in, because they
will continue to care for you, just as you will for them. Keep them close,"
Dumbledore advised gently. He knew his young student was tempted to withdraw
from his friends to try and keep them safe. What Harry didn't realize was that if he
did so, it would only increase the danger, for guilt and heartache were a gateway
to dark magic.

Harry did not want to talk about his friends, for at the thought of the danger they
were in sadness welled up in him and he knew that he would lose control. "Sir, I
think I'm ready to try again," he said.

"Very well, Harry. Prepare yourself." Harry closed his eyes again and felt
Dumbledore's gentle presence almost immediately. He concentrated with all his
might on closing the doors to his thoughts and denying entrance to his mind. He
could feel himself start to sweat as he pushed against the invasion. A few
moments later, the pressure lifted, and Harry opened his eyes to find Dumbledore
looking at him again, a mixture of pride and satisfaction on his face.

"That was excellent, Harry. We have made a good beginning," he praised. "Now,
what I would like for you to do is to take a few moments several times each day to
shore up your mind, to make it stronger. This is especially important right before
you fall asleep, for that is when you are most vulnerable to attack."

Harry nodded. This was not so different from what Snape had told him to do when
they had practiced occlumency during fifth year, although Snape had not told him
how to do it.

"Now, Harry, before I return to Hogwarts, is there anything you would like to
discuss? Anything you need to ask?"

Harry was startled. It was very rare that Professor Dumbledore gave him that kind
of invitation, especially since he had spent most of the previous year avoiding
Harry's eyes and refusing to speak with him at all. However rare it might have
been, though, Harry had no desire to confide in the Headmaster. "No, sir," he
answered.

Dumbledore sighed. He knew that the rapport he had once shared with Harry had
all but shattered during the previous school year. He was glad Harry still trusted
him enough to learn Occlumency from him. Trust between teacher and student
was essential in this branch of magic, but he wished the boy would confide in
him. He wanted nothing more than to help Harry with the immense burden on his
young shoulders, and he would help him, but it would be much easier to do so if
Harry would let him back into his heart.

***

Two days later, Harry was finally free to walk about the house. He was still
somewhat weak, but Madam Pomfrey had visited and decided that Harry was well
enough to move, and that some exercise would actually speed his recovery.
Harry was glad; he was tired of his bedroom and the gloominess that seemed to
settle over everyone when they came and saw him trapped in bed.

Ginny had spent more time with him than anyone else, owing mostly to her
resolve that she would be there to help him. They passed most of their time
playing Exploding Snap or Gobstones, and she was one of the few members of
the household who did not pressure him to talk about his feelings. She simply sat
with him and tried to keep his mind off things, hurrying to get him anything he
needed. Harry was surprised to find that he liked spending so much time with her
– she was easy to be with.

His occlumency lessons with the Headmaster had continued each morning, and
after only three lessons, Dumbledore had complimented Harry on his progress.
He was now able to push the old wizard out of his mind completely, but he still
had to have time to prepare his defenses before he was able to block intrusions.
He practiced each day, but it had not been enough to stop the next attack on his
mind. He had felt the searing pain in his scar only half a second before hearing
the voice that haunted his dreams.

"Do you like the little girl, Potter? Are you starting to care for her? You cannot
protect her from Lord Voldemort. She was mine once before, and she will be mine
again."

Ginny had been sitting with him when it happened, and as soon as she saw the
tell-tale signs of the attack she ran to the door and screamed for her mother.

Molly had her own way of dealing with the attack, and it was not in any way
similar to Lupin's shaking and shouting. She had sat down on the bed with Harry
and pulled his stiff body into one of her bone-crushing hugs, whispering
soothingly in his ear that he was safe with her and everything was going to be all
right, and she had rocked slightly back and forth as she rubbed his back. Ginny
was not sure if the motherly milksop helped; it had not seemed to stop the attack
any sooner than Lupin's shouting had, but she didn't question it. So far, nothing
had seemed to help.
After the attack, Harry had lay still on his bed for nearly two hours before Molly
left the room quietly to get his dinner and force him to choke some down. She
could see that Harry's body was getting stronger, and she was not about to stop
until he looked the way that a fifteen-year-old boy should look. After the food and
his normal round of potions, Harry had seemed better and had had a chess match
with Ron as if nothing had happened.

When Harry and Ron had finally walked into the cellar kitchen, nearly a week after
he had arrived at headquarters, he was greeted by the smiles of the Weasleys,
Tonks, and Moody. Bill jumped from the table to help Harry into a chair, and he
sat down gratefully. When had it become such a long walk between the bedrooms
and the kitchen?

"Harry, mate, good to see you!" Fred greeted him as soon as he was seated. After
the biting teacup incident, Fred and George had only been allowed in Harry's
room when either Mr. or Mrs. Weasley was present to make sure they did not
prank him. As a result, the twins had mostly stayed away, only popping in for a
few moments each day to say hello. "Have some butterbeer!" He handed Harry a
goblet, and Harry looked at it suspiciously. "No pranks this time, Harry. Mum
would do her nut."

Mrs. Weasley glared at Fred while the rest of the table chuckled appreciatively.
Molly's temper was legendary among the inhabitants of Number Twelve,
Grimmauld Place, but they all took it in stride. They knew that even when she was
shouting, she loved them all dearly. Molly's face relaxed after a moment, and she
smiled fondly at Harry. "It is good to see you up and around, dear. Dinner will be
on the table in a minute, and Remus should be joining us soon."

Harry took a sip of butterbeer and felt the usual sensation of his insides warming
pleasantly as it went down his throat. It felt good to be drinking something
besides water; because of his dehydrated state when he had arrived, Madam
Pomfrey had allowed nothing else, not even pumpkin juice.

Moony joined everyone at the table a few minutes later, looking as tired and
haggard as he always did after the full moon, but happy to see Harry out of bed
and looking better. He took the chair next to Harry and clapped him softly on the
shoulder. "All right, Harry?" he asked.

"All right, Moony," Harry grinned. It felt wonderful to be sitting here among his
friends after the confines of Sirius’s bedroom, and in spite of his fatigue, Harry
felt rather happy and content. The worries of the world seemed far away as Molly
and Tonks (who only spilled a little of the gravy) set a huge supper of roast
chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables on the long table.

Molly noticed with some satisfaction that although Harry did not consume as
much as Ron had, he did almost clear his plate of chicken and potatoes, and
when the pudding had come out, he had taken a bit of it and seemed to enjoy it.
Soon after the pudding, however, Harry's face started to grow pale and he swayed
slightly in his seat as Fred and George were describing their day in the shop at
Diagon Alley.

Remus noticed this at the same time as Molly, and the two exchanged a glance,
reaching an unspoken agreement that Remus would take Harry upstairs and sit
with him tonight. "All right, everyone, say goodnight to Harry – he still needs his
rest and Madam Pomfrey said to take it slowly at first," Molly proclaimed.

Harry was grateful that he had not had to leave on his own – he felt it would have
been rude, when everyone had come to see him and Mrs. Weasley had cooked
such a good dinner. There was no denying that he felt very tired. He had not
really believed Madam Pomfrey's predictions that even an hour spent sitting at
table would wear him out, but now he understood how little strength he really
had.

"Night, mate," said Fred and George together.

"Good night, Harry," said Ginny, smiling at him. "I still want that Exploding Snap
rematch tomorrow."

"Night, 'arry," said Ron, whose mouth was full of his fourth helping of pudding.

Bill and Charlie both shook his hand briefly, and Arthur clapped his hand on
Harry's shoulder. "Sleep well, Harry."

Molly was the last to say goodnight. She gave him a gentle hug as he was walking
out the door, whispering, "If you need anything, dear, all you have to do is ask."

"Night, everyone," Harry said as Remus supported him slightly, one hand around
Harry's waist. "Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Weasley, it was delicious."

***

Upon reaching Sirius’s bedroom, Harry took his potions, changed back into
pajamas, and settled into bed comfortably, glad to see Moony take his seat in the
old armchair once again.

"So, how have you been these last few days, Harry?"

"I've been okay," Harry answered, and then, seeing the suspicious look on
Moony's face, added, "Really, Moony, I have. I'm feeling a lot better now than I
was."
"I'm glad to hear that, kiddo." Harry was startled. No one besides Sirius had ever
called him "kiddo." Remus noticed the look on Harry’s face. "Is something
wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry mumbled. "It's just that...Sirius called me 'kiddo.' It was weird
hearing it from someone else, that's all."

Remus sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't realize..."

"It's okay," Harry said quickly. He didn't want to talk to Moony about Sirius
tonight. He just didn't feel like he was ready to do that yet, and he could not bear
to see his sadness mirrored in his guardian's eyes.

"Do you want to talk about..."

"No," Harry interrupted. "Not tonight, Moony. Please."

For a moment it looked as though the older man was about to argue, but he just
couldn't bring himself to force anything out of Harry at the moment. "All right,
Harry," he conceded. "But when you are ready, I am here."

"Thanks," Harry answered. For a few moments, they sat in uncomfortable silence,
Harry looking down at his hands, Remus staring into the fire he had lit in the
grate.

Remus finally broke the silence. "How have your occlumency lessons been
going?"

Harry was glad to talk about something that did not involve Sirius. "Not bad. I
think I've learned more from Professor Dumbledore in three days than I did all last
year with Snape."

Lupin smiled slightly. Harry sounded so much like James had when he talked
about Snape. "You really should call him Professor Snape, Harry. You know that,
right? I don't like him much either, but he is on our side, and he is your teacher."

"Are you sure he's on our side?" Harry asked. That was something that had been
bothering him since fourth year, when he had found out that Snape was a Death
Eater who had changed sides in the First War.

"I am certain of it," Remus answered definitely.

"Why?"
"That's another story for another time, Harry, but suffice it to say that no matter
what my personal feelings are towards him, he is working for the Order at great
risk to himself."

Harry frowned. With their new openness, he had been hoping to get some
information out of Moony, but one look at his guardian's face told him that this
particular subject was closed. Not wanting to stray into dangerous waters
tonight, Harry told Remus all about his lessons with Dumbledore, even bragging
a little that he could manage to get the Headmaster out of his mind within
seconds now.

"That's quite an accomplishment, you know," Remus said. "Professor

Dumbledore is probably the most advanced Legilimens in the wizarding world. To
be able to push him out of your mind is quite a feat."

Harry smiled at the praise, but clarified, "Well, I can't do it all of a sudden yet. I
have to know that it is coming so I can prepare."

"That is how you learn," Remus assured him. "If you keep progressing at this
rate, by the end of summer, occlumency will come as naturally to you as flying a
broomstick." He carefully avoided mentioning to Harry that he knew Harry had
not been able to stop Voldemort's attack the previous day. In his wolf form,
Remus was able to hear unusually well, and had heard Ginny's calls for her
mother when it had happened.

"How are you sleeping, Harry?" Moony asked this next question cautiously. He
knew Harry had not woken up screaming, but he could still see hints of the black
bags under the young wizard's eyes.

"Okay," Harry answered.

"Is that the truth, Harry?" Remus asked him firmly.

Harry looked at his hands. "Well, I haven't had any visions or anything. But I keep
having the same nightmare...the one about Sirius falling through the veil."

It was the answer Remus had been expecting. "I know, Harry. I know," he said
heavily. He briefly considered telling Harry that he had experienced similar
nightmares at the beginning of the summer but decided it was just as well to
leave the subject closed.

"No one else knows," Harry said anxiously. "There is always someone in here
with me, but usually when I wake up, they’re asleep and don't hear me. I haven't
been screaming like...like I did at the Dursleys." Harry unconsciously touched the
side of his face. The bruise was completely healed, but it would be a long time
before Harry forgot the hatred in Uncle Vernon's eyes that night.
"Harry, you have my word that what you say to me will remain with me and me
only," Remus promised him. "If, for some reason, I feel it necessary to tell
someone else anything you have said, I promise I will let you know before I do. All
right?"

Harry nodded, feeling very grateful to Lupin at that moment. No one had ever
made that promise to him, not even Ron and Hermione. "Thanks," he mumbled,
and Remus noticed that his eyes were beginning to droop.

"I think it’s time you got some sleep, Harry," Remus told him. "I'll be here all
night, so if you need me for anything, just call."

Harry turned on his side, pulled his blankets up over his body, and soon fell into
a deep sleep. Remus Lupin, unlike Harry's other minders, did not sleep, but
simply sat with Harry, watching him. A few hours later, when the boy began
mumbling and broke out into the sweat that always accompanied his nightmares,
Moony was there, smoothing his hair back from his face and mopping his brow
with a cool cloth. Harry did not wake, but he seemed to sleep more calmly
afterwards. For that, Lupin was grateful.

Back to index
 Chapter 11: A Birthday In the House by WriterLady

Chapter 11: A Birthday in the House

Relative to the first three weeks of summer, the final week before Harry's
sixteenth birthday passed fairly uneventfully. Under Mrs. Weasley and Remus
Lupin's watchful care, the Weasley children's moral support, and Professor
Dumbledore's tutelage, Harry's physical and emotional well-being improved
dramatically.

Only once had Voldemort attacked Harry's mind, and because of the
Headmaster's Occlumency training Harry had been able to force him out within a
few seconds. The effort involved had sent him back to bed for the rest of the day,
but Harry had been encouraged and even proud of himself for managing the feat.

Due to Mrs. Weasley's wonderful cooking and insistence that Harry eat three
square meals each day, Harry had gained enough weight that he lost the gaunt,
unhealthy look he had when he had arrived. The day before Harry's birthday,
Madam Pomfrey had pronounced herself satisfied that he was healthy once
again, and had allowed Harry to stop taking the potions she had prescribed. She
did, however, discreetly leave a few vials each of headache potion and dreamless
sleep potion in Lupin's care, after he had told her quietly that Harry still had
considerable trouble sleeping.

The dreams had not stopped, but they rarely morphed into visions. They were
simply nightmares, and while they were plenty bad enough for a normal teenager,
Harry actually felt a bit of relief that Voldemort seemed to have given up trying to
invade his mind. It also helped that whenever Harry woke up, he would find either
Mrs. Weasley or Lupin dozing in the armchair by his bed, ready to help him if he
needed it. Although he was starting to find being constantly watched a bit
irritating, he had to admit to himself that when he woke in the night, he was glad
they were there.

Ginny and Ron were nearly always at Harry's side during the day, and he found
that he did not mind their company. It felt more like they were just spending time
with him like they would at Hogwarts than watching him, even though he knew
that Mrs. Weasley still insisted that Harry never be alone in case of another
attack. They played games, talked about school and Quidditch, wondered about
O.W.L. results that would be coming for Ron and Harry soon, and even did chores
around the house. Harry, of course, was not required by Mrs. Weasley to help
with the chores, but he found that the mindless tasks were a welcome distraction
from his troubles, so he often helped Ron and Ginny clean out dusty old
cupboards, sweep floors, and even scrub the toilets.
All in all, Harry was feeling happier than he had since before the end of term. As
he drifted off to sleep on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he finally felt as though
things were not quite as bleak as they had seemed before.

***

Nine a.m. on the last day of July found Arabella Figg strolling down Wisteria Walk
on her way home from buying cabbage from the local grocer, her carpet slippers
slapping the pavement in a shuffling cadence. Her mind was not on the walk,
which she made every morning, but on one of her cats who had fallen ill. Imagine
her surprise when she found, standing on her front stoop and trying to look as
inconspicuous as possible, Petunia Dursley, dressed in her suburban-housewife
best and sporting her usual pursed lips. Mrs. Figg stopped in her tracks and
stared. What in Merlin's name was Petunia Dursley doing on her front stoop?

"Mrs. Dursley?" she inquired, trying to sound polite, but unable to completely
mask her surprise.

"I want to know how he is," Petunia snapped with no preamble. "I know you are
one of those freaks he hangs around with. I have known it for years. The sooner
we get this over with, the better."

Mrs. Figg was completely taken aback by this statement. Petunia Dursley had
never shown any sign before of caring about Harry's welfare. Was she actually
concerned about him, or was something else going on? "Er...of course...won't
you come inside for a bit? Quite hot already, isn't it?" she babbled in her
confusion.

"I will not be staying more than a few minutes," Petunia said bluntly as she
followed the batty old lady into the house. Her pointed nose wrinkled as she
smelled the combination of cabbage and cats that permeated Arabella Figg's
home, and she scanned the cluttered décor with obvious distaste. "I only want to
know if the boy is alive or dead. I have a right to know."

"Of course you do," Mrs. Figg answered. "The problem is, I don't rightly know. I'm
afraid that I haven't talked to anyone since a few days after they took him away
through my fire." In her fluster, she didn't even think to offer her neighbor a cup
of tea.

"He was alive then?"

"Yes, and they expected him to make a full recovery," the squib answered,
confused even further when she saw no sign of emotion, relief or otherwise,
cross Petunia's face. "I'm afraid they don't often remember to keep me informed,
you see. My job is to watch out for Harry, and when he is not here..."
Petunia nodded curtly. "I want to speak with them. I know you can make that
happen."

"Well, I..." Mrs. Figg wondered if Petunia Dursley, a Muggle, was permitted to use
the floo network, or if she was even able to.

"That old man. The one with the revolting eye," Petunia began. "I want to speak
with him or with that other man who came and took Potter."

"You don't want to speak with Harry?" Mrs. Figg asked tentatively.

"Of course I don't want to speak to him. Why would I want to speak to him? He's
the reason my family has been tossed into the middle of this mess." Petunia was
growing extremely impatient. Dudley would be awake soon, and she needed to be
back at Number Four before he realized she was gone. She would have come
earlier, but she had had to wait until Vernon had left for his office.

Mrs. Figg was startled. No, she was more than startled. She was completely
shocked.

"Mrs. Figg," Petunia began haughtily, no more respecting the woman in front of
her than she respected the people who cleaned the toilets at the market, "I want
to speak to someone, and I do not have all day to wait. If you want that boy to
return to my home next summer, you will contact one of the men I wish to speak
to."

Mrs. Figg simply stared at her, slightly offended and completely befuddled. She
knew the boy had to return to Privet Drive next summer, and she could not see
any way to avoid fulfilling this rude woman's request. "Right," she muttered.
"We'll just have to use the floo."

"Fine," Petunia snapped, not knowing or caring what the ridiculous word “floo”
referred to. "Quickly, then."

Mrs. Figg moved to her fireplace. Petunia watched, completely unimpressed, as

the old woman grabbed a handful of glittering powder from a flower pot on her
mantle, tossed it into the grate, and muttered something unintelligible as she got
down on her knees and stuck her head right into the emerald-green flames.
Because Dumbledore himself had never told Petunia Dursley the location of
Headquarters, she could not understand the woman's words, but she honestly
did not care. She watched as Mrs. Figg kept her head in the fire for a moment and
then nodded curtly when the old woman leaned back out, shaking soot from her
hair and rubbing her forehead, announcing, "Someone will be here in a moment."

***
Remus Lupin and Molly Weasley sat in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld
Place, planning the small gathering that would be held that evening in honor of
Harry's sixteenth birthday. Molly had sent Ron, Ginny, and Harry upstairs not five
minutes before, telling them that their task for the morning was to clean
Buckbeak's room and keep the hippogriff company for awhile. The animal had not
had proper company since Sirius’s death, and it had been a good excuse to make
sure Harry stayed out of the kitchen and occupied while the preparation was
going on.

"I don't think it would be wise at this point to startle Harry," Remus advised.

"No, of course you're right," Molly answered. "It will only be a small, quiet dinner
with all of us. I will bake a cake of course, and he’ll have his presents."

Remus nodded. "Maybe Fred and George could bring in a few jokes from their
shop. I believe Harry would enjoy that diversion, as long as they agree not to do
anything that would startle him too much."

Molly was saved having to reply to this request by the flash of emerald-green
flame in the kitchen grate and a loud yelp when Mrs. Figg's head collided violently
with the copper teakettle on the trivet.

"Arabella?" Remus asked, jumping to remove the teakettle from the fireplace. "Is
something wrong? Do you need to talk to Albus?"

"No, no," the old lady answered, "and I can't stay in here long. This is murder on
my knees."

"What is it?" Molly asked anxiously. She was suddenly afraid for Harry, even
though she knew he was safe upstairs and that Ron or Ginny would have gotten
her straightaway if anything had happened to him.

"Well, it's...well, I can't rightly explain it, but I've got Harry's aunt here and she
insists on speaking to one of you. Says she wants to know how Harry is, but she
doesn't want to talk to him. She was quite adamant about that, actually."

"Petunia Dursley wants to speak to one of us?" Remus asked in bewilderment.

"Whatever for?" He did not believe for a moment that the woman was concerned
about her only nephew; something else was going on. Even as he tried to remain
calm, he could feel the pent-up anger he had felt towards the Dursleys all summer
simmering dangerously close to the surface.

"I don't rightly know," Mrs. Figg answered. "She said that if we want Harry to go
to her home next summer, she insists on speaking to one of you now."

"Oh, I will speak with her," Molly snarled, her voice dangerously low.
"Molly, stay calm," warned Remus, although he was clenching his fists so tightly
that his knuckles were white.

"Can one of you come here, then?" Mrs. Figg pressed. "She won't leave until you
do, and I've a sick cat to mind."

"Right, Arabella," said Remus. "You may tell her one of us will be along shortly."

Mrs. Figg nodded and her head disappeared from the flames. Molly and Remus
simply stared at each other for a moment before Molly whispered in barely-
contained rage, "I'll go, Remus. I've a few things I want to say to that woman."

"That is precisely the reason why you will not go, Molly. We cannot risk anything
negating the blood protection," Remus answered with a forced, steely calmness
in his steady voice. "I will go."

"We'll both go."

"Don't be silly. You know that one of us has to stay here," Remus reminded her
gently. "I will go, and I will tell you everything that is said as soon as I return.
Besides, the children will find it far less suspicious if I leave than if you do."

Molly knew that was true. Since Harry had recovered, Remus often left
headquarters to speak to Albus or to perform some duty for the Order, while she
usually stayed at the house, taking care of everybody and helping to manage the
constant stream of messages between Order members. She hesitated and then
nodded. "But you tell her, Remus...you tell her..." Molly could hardly get the
words out, she was still so furious with the Dursleys.

"All right, Molly," Remus said in the same calm voice. He was just as furious as
she was, but both of them knew that he was much more likely to keep his temper
than she. "Let's just see how this goes.” He took a handful of floo powder and
threw it into the flames, saying clearly, "Arabella Figg's," and stepped into the
fire.

***

Showing the first sign of apprehension, Petunia Dursley took several steps back
as the flames in Mrs. Figg's fireplace burned green again a few moments later,
and the thin, haggard-looking man she had seen with her nephew stepped out of
the fire. He did not even look at her at first, making rather a show of brusquely
brushing soot off of his faded brown robes and greeting Mrs. Figg. Finally, he
turned to her. "You wished to speak to someone about Harry," he stated quietly.

"Yes," Petunia answered, and then quickly recovered her usual haughty,
snappish attitude. "You drop the boy on my doorstep, leave him in our care, and
then take him away at your own whim, without even the courtesy of letting us
know if he is alive or dead. You seem to forget that it has been my family, not
your kind, who has taken care of him all of his miserable life."

Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself not to lose his
temper with Harry's aunt. He pointedly ignored her claims of having "cared" for
Harry in any way, and answered in a low voice, "Harry is alive, Mrs. Dursley, and
is expected to make a full recovery. Now, if that is all you wanted to know, I'll just
be -"

"That is certainly not all I want to know," Petunia almost screeched. "I want to
know what caused him to get that way, or who caused him to get that way. I want
to know if it had anything to do with that man...that man who killed my sister." Her
voice lowered by the end of the sentence, and Lupin thought that he might have
detected a note of emotion when she said the word "sister," but he could not be
sure.

Remus hesitated. He had to tread very carefully. If he said the wrong thing, she
was sure to forbid Harry to come back to Privet Drive, and that would make Harry
an open target to Voldemort with the remaining blood protection negated. He
decided that for the time-being a half-truth would have to do. "Mrs. Dursley," he
said, his voice clipped. "About a week before he came back to Little Whinging,
Harry went through a horrible ordeal with Voldemort." He shot a warning glance
at Mrs. Figg, who had gasped when he said the name. "He also had to watch as
his godfather, the closest thing he can ever remember to a caring parent, was
murdered. Quite understandably, Harry has been having a rough time of it."

"I know about the nightmares," Petunia informed him coolly. "The boy told me
about them."

Remus almost lost his temper. "Was that before or after your husband hit Harry
around the head so hard that it caused his face to bruise, Mrs. Dursley?"

Petunia looked away from him and did not answer the question.

"Harry also had vivid flashbacks during his waking hours," Remus continued,
willing himself to calm down and telling her something that, if not quite the truth
of Harry's condition, might explain it sufficiently enough to satisfy her. "These
flashbacks left him physically and mentally weak, and the food you gave him
made him sick."

"The food I gave him was perfectly good," Petunia snapped, assuming that
Remus was making a slur on her cooking.
"That is not the point," Remus answered. "You asked how Harry came to be in the
condition we found him in while under your care, and I have answered. Will that
be all?"

"No," Petunia said softly. Lupin could detect, for the first time, some fear in her
voice. "I want to know if...that man..."

"Voldemort," Remus prompted, causing Mrs. Figg to gasp once again.

"I want to know if having that boy stay with us is going to cause that man to come
after my family."

"Mrs. Dursley," Remus began. "While Voldemort is still alive and at large, there is
no family in the world, magical or non-magical, that is safe. You may not
understand it, but Harry is our greatest hope in defeating him once and for all,
and by keeping him safe, you are helping to ensure not only the safety of your
own family, but the safety of countless other families as well."

Petunia had not been looking for that answer. All she wanted to know was that
Vernon and Dudley were going to stay safe if she allowed Harry houseroom for
one more year. "This...thing..." she could not bring herself to say the word
‘magic.’ "This protection you say the boy has. Will it keep us safe as well?"

"You will be as safe as Harry is while he is with you," Lupin answered quietly.
"Blood magic is a powerful magic, and as I am sure Headmaster Dumbledore
explained to you, when your sister Lily gave her life to protect Harry, he remains
safe while he can still call home the place where her blood resides."

Petunia nodded, and with a curt glance at her thin gold wristwatch, she turned
and hurried from the room without another word. Dudley usually woke around
midmorning, hungry for breakfast, and it was already nearly ten. Remus watched
her go and swore softly, biting back the barrage of words he wanted to throw at
her back. He could not fault her for her concern for Vernon and Dudley, but he
was immeasurably angry that not a modicum of that concern extended to her
nephew. He sighed, told Mrs. Figg goodbye and that they would contact her again
in a few days, and flooed back to Headquarters.

***

"Harry, Ron, Ginny! Come down for dinner now!" Molly called up the stairs.

Harry grinned at his two friends, knowing that he was actually heading down to
his first-ever birthday party, and the three trooped downstairs. "Now, Harry,"
warned Ginny. "You'd better act surprised, or else they'll all think I told you."
"Well, you did," Ron commented, and then, imitating Ginny's voice, said, "Oh, no,
Harry, nothing's going on...well, almost nothing...well, it's supposed to be a
surprise, you know..."

Harry chuckled at this. Ginny, despite all of her experience dealing with her older
brothers, was still useless when it came to keeping secrets under pressure, and
he had to admit to himself that he had enjoyed teasing her until she told him why
they hadn't been allowed in the kitchen all day. He had no idea about the
conversation Remus had with Aunt Petunia that morning. Molly and Remus had
decided that they did not want to spoil his birthday party, and would talk to him
about it at another time if they needed to talk to him about it at all.

"Ginny didn't really tell me anything, Ron," he teased. "Only that it was a surprise,
and it was going to be in the kitchen, and that it had something to do with my
birthday." Ginny blushed, and then blushed even more when she realized how
much Harry had been making her blush during the past week as his normal
personality had begun to return to him.

When they reached the kitchen, Ron and Ginny let Harry go through the door
first. He looked around and saw the Weasleys, Tonks, Moody, Lupin, Dumbledore,
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall, and...Hermione. No one shouted
"surprise" or made any sudden movements; they all just stood grinning behind
the table, which was loaded down with food, a huge birthday cake, and the
biggest pile of presents Harry had ever seen.

"Hermione!" Harry heard Ron exclaim as he came in behind him. "Mum didn't tell
us you were going to be here!" Harry noted with some amusement that Ron's
voice had gone all high-pitched at the sight of their friend.

Hermione rushed around the table, but before she greeted Ron and Ginny, she
threw her arms around Harry's neck in a tight hug. "Oh, Harry, I've been so
worried! Are you all right? How are you feeling?" Harry staggered a bit under the
force of the hug, but hugged her back all the same.

"I'm fine now, Hermione. Really!" he assured her. She finally broke away from
him, gave Ginny a quick hug, and then turned to hug Ron. Harry and the rest of
the people in the room couldn't help but notice that her hug lasted a little longer
than was strictly necessary.

"All right, you four," Mrs. Weasley said. "No reason to stand around in the
doorway. Come on in, and let's get this celebration going!"

The food, as usual, was fantastic, and Harry thought he had never done anything
so much fun as blowing out the candles on his birthday cake in one huge huff
that made him gasp. The only cake he had ever been given on his birthday had
been the small cake that Hagrid had brought five years before when Harry had
turned eleven and found out he was a wizard.

After everyone had been served cake, Harry opened his presents. He was amazed
at the sheer number of them. So this is why Dudley gets so excited about his
birthday, he thought. In truth, though, as excited as he was about the presents,
just the fact that all of these people had come to celebrate his birthday was the
most wonderful feeling in the world.

Fred and George, of course, gave Harry a huge box full of merchandise from
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, "compliments of the owners." Bill and Charlie gave
him a sleek silver carrying case for his Firebolt which had anti-theft detection. Mr.
and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny gave him an old-looking box with a large gold key to
keep any special possessions safe and hidden, and Ron gave him the usual box
of Honeyduke's chocolates and candies. Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, and
Professor McGonagall presented him with an assortment of books on Defense, as
well as a copy of Advanced Transfiguration. "You will need that this term, Potter,"
McGonagall told him, smiling at him with something of a proud glint in her eyes.

"I will?" Harry asked. O.W.L. results had not come yet, and he knew he had to
receive at least "Exceeds Expectations" on his Transfiguration exam to make
Professor McGonagall's N.E.W.T. class. McGonagall nodded, but would not say
anything else on the matter even when Hermione mutely pled with her from
across the table.

Harry's last gift was an oddly-shaped, squashy package from Professor

Dumbledore. Harry couldn't think what it might be. The last package he had
gotten from Dumbledore had been his father's invisibility cloak. He opened the
wrapping and laughed when four pairs of heavy woolen socks, in an assortment
of colors, fell into his lap. He looked up at his Headmaster and saw the familiar
twinkle in his eyes. "A man can never have too many warm socks, Harry,"
Dumbledore said. "I'm particularly fond of the red ones," he added.

Harry felt a well of emotion as he looked at his friends, no, his family, from Bill
with his long red hair tied back in a ponytail, to Hermione, who had tears
sparkling in her eyes. "Thank you," he choked. "Just...thank you."

"You're quite wel-" Mrs. Weasley started, but was interrupted by Lupin, who
exclaimed, "Harry!"

Harry suddenly let out a loud yell and fallen to his knees, clutching his forehead.
His face paled to a deadly white, and he swayed. Charlie, who was standing
nearest to him, caught him right before he hit the ground.

Back to index
 Chapter 12: Under Siege by WriterLady

Chapter 12: Under Siege

For the first few moments of the attack on his mind, Harry tried to concentrate
through the blinding pain in his forehead, tried to close the doors to the fortress
he had mentally constructed, tried to keep Voldemort out. But this time, the
pressure was unlike anything Harry had ever felt before. It felt like a battering ram
aimed directly at his soul.

"Happy birthday, Potter. It has been far too long."

As he heard the dreaded voice echo in his mind, Harry felt the pressure increase
tenfold. He knew the Dark Lord was delving deep into his thoughts, looking for
something. He pushed back with all his strength, but his defenses dropped
almost completely when he heard another voice, a cold, drawling voice that he
hated almost as much as the high, hissing one.

"Yes, yes. Happy birthday, Potter. It would not do to neglect the niceties."

The pain was staggering, and Harry could only vaguely hear the shouts of the
people in the kitchen of Headquarters as he fought to hold on to the last shred of
his defenses, that locked room deep in his mind in which his most private
thoughts were held under metaphorical lock and key. Lucius Malfoy's voice
drawled on as Harry felt the seeping, insidious entrance of the Dark Lord into his
most private thoughts, and he knew he could not win against this new, double
attack.

"Not so easy to fight when there are two of us, is it? To think that your fool of a
professor actually believes you to be a match for the Dark Lord." Harry could
almost see Malfoy shaking his head in mocking disbelief as his words slithered
through the mind link.

Somewhere else in his mind, a scene played from a long time ago. Dudley and
Harry, only five years old, had gotten into a row over the remote control to the
telly. Uncle Vernon had beaten Harry after giving the remote to his cousin, and
had locked him into his cupboard. Young Harry cried at the injustice of it as much
as from the pain of the beating, and he begged his uncle to let him out.

"Oh, dear. What a naughty little boy," Lucius Malfoy continued to drawl.

Ginny Weasley, looking pale and almost dead, lay motionless on the floor of the
Chamber of Secrets while Tom Riddle used Harry's wand to spell out "I am Lord
Voldemort" in the air above her.
"That almost worked, Potter, but you managed to save the little girl. She will not
be so fortunate next time," Voldemort's voice broke in smoothly.

"We will have her, Potter, as well as the rest of the blood traitors," Malfoy added.

A tall, hooded figure with death-rattle breath closed in on him. He felt cold, and he
heard his mother's screams as all happiness was pulled away from him.

"Do you fear the Dementors, Potter? I will have to remember that."

As Harry grappled uselessly against the intrusion into the memories that had
scarred him most deeply, he heard the ghostly voice of Professor Trelawney,
weird and frightening as she revolved slowly atop the swirling liquid-gas of
Dumbledore's Pensieve..."The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord
approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh
month dies....and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power
the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither
can live while the other survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark
Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Harry heard Voldemort's triumphant hiss as Trelawney's voice faded into silence.
The Dark Lord had gotten what he wanted most. The memories faded, all went
black, and Harry knew no more.

***

Albus Dumbledore pushed past the group surrounding Harry just as Charlie
lowered the shaking teenager gently to the floor. Everyone in the room was
horrified at what was happening to Harry - besides Molly, Lupin, and Ginny, no
one had ever seen it before, even if they had heard about it. Hermione and Ginny
stood, holding each other's hands tightly, tears streaming down their faces as
they silently sobbed. The five Weasley brothers and their father stood close
together, staring at Harry, the freckles standing out on their pale faces.
McGonagall stood stock still, her hand clapped over her mouth in horror, her
eyes wide. Tonks, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye stood on the other side of the table,
unable to tear their gazes from Harry, although Moody's magical eye was
searching the room wildly.

Molly and Remus pulled Harry's stiff body into a sitting position, and Lupin
shouted desperately for Harry to fight to keep his Occlumency shield in place.
Molly said nothing but held the boy to her, alarmed at his trembling and the sweat
running down his neck.

Dumbledore was the single person in the room that seemed calm. He knelt down
next to Harry, put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and said softly, "Harry,
remember. No one can get in if you don't want them there. You can fight this -"
His voice abruptly stopped as Harry's body seized, and Lupin and Molly were
nearly knocked over with the force of it.

"No!" Harry yelled, but his body suddenly fell slack into Molly's arms. He began to
moan in a small voice almost unrecognizable as his own, "No, Uncle Vernon,
don't hurt me! I'm sorry...let me out, please, let me out!"

Molly's eyes filled with tears. She could easily guess that Harry was being forced
to relive some of his childhood memories as Voldemort probed his mind. At that
moment, she hated Vernon Dursley more completely than she had ever hated
anyone in her life.

Dumbledore's voice became more insistent, an almost fearful quality radiating out
of him as he spoke. "Harry, you must fight him. Push back, Harry! Push him out
of your mind! He must not stay! Harry!"

Harry did not respond in any way. His eyes fluttered as he said in a voice barely
above a whisper, "Ginny, oh Ginny, please don't be dead."

Remus glanced at Molly, whose face had gone white with these words. The
Weasley men turned as one to look at Ginny, now being supported by Hermione
and looking as though she might fall if left to stand on her own. Arthur quickly
went to them and took Ginny in his arms and held her close, kissing the top of
her head.

"Harry! You're giving him exactly what he wants!" Remus shouted. "Fight it,
Harry! You can do this!"

"You must push him out of your mind, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was quiet
again, but it held an edge of panic. Besides Remus, no one else in the room knew
that Harry held the words of Sybill Trelawney's prophecy in his memory, and only
Dumbledore guessed it was that which Voldemort was after. Remus was too
concerned about Harry to think of it.

"Mum," Harry moaned. "Mum, no..."

Remus gripped Harry's shoulder hard enough that it would have been painful had
Harry been able to feel it over the pain in his forehead. "Harry, please," he
whispered, terrified at what was happening to his charge. "You have to fight this.
You just have to!"

"Harry James Potter!" Dumbledore thundered. Everyone in the room jumped at

his sudden change in tone and volume. An aura of power surrounded the old
man, who was determined to break this attack any way he had to. "Listen to me!
You will fight this! You can push him out of your mind! Fight him, Harry. Fight!"
Harry, once again, made no response. His energy seemed completely spent as he
mumbled, "the one with the power..." He gave a great gasp as if struggling for air
and fell, once again completely lifeless, back into Molly's arms.

"It is over," Dumbledore said quietly, bending to examine Harry closely. He

brushed Harry's fringe off his forehead, tracing the lightning-bolt scar with his
long fingers, knowing that it was likely that Voldemort now knew the full contents
of the prophecy. Why had not Harry been able to successfully keep his shield in
place? He had done it once before, and Dumbledore could guess no sufficient
reason for Harry's helplessness in this instance - he should have been able to
push Voldemort out quickly, like he had last time. What was the difference?

"He needs to be in his bed," Molly said softly, her arms shaking with the effort of
holding his dead weight. "Bill, Charlie, get him upstairs and stay with him. He
won't wake for some time yet. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, you go up with him too. I
want him to see your faces when he does wake up. Fred and George, go to
Hogwarts and find Madam Pomfrey. I am afraid Harry's going to need her again."

Bill and Charlie supported Harry's weight between them and left the kitchen,
followed by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron and Hermione were holding hands
now, and Ginny had her arms wrapped around herself as tears continued to
stream down her face. Mrs. Weasley knew that Ginny needed comfort, but she
also knew that Bill and Ginny were very close, and Bill would be able to calm her
down while the other adults talked. Fred and George, their identical faces more
solemn than anyone had ever seen, threw floo powder into the fireplace, said
"Hogwarts" and stepped into the flames.

Remus Lupin stood up and made to follow the group out of the kitchen, but
Dumbledore said quietly, "Remus, you need to stay here for the moment. Harry
will be asleep for some time. I promise that you will be there when he wakes.
Everyone, please sit."

Professor McGonagall, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Arthur, and

Molly all found chairs at the kitchen table, which was still strewn with the
remainder of the night's party. The presents and the cake looked out of place
now, and the mood in the room was extremely heavy as they all looked to Albus
Dumbledore.

"I do not know," he began, "how Voldemort has been getting past the wards. I can
only guess that the connection between himself and Harry has grown strong
enough that he no longer needs to be near the boy, or even to know his location,
in order to practice legilimency on him."

"But the Occlumency lessons," Professor McGonagall broke in. "Albus, you said
the boy was doing well."
"He has been learning remarkably quickly. Just the other day, he was able to stop
an attack by Voldemort within seconds of the onset, and he is able to force me
out of his mind almost every lesson now."

"Then why couldn't he today?" Remus asked, his voice once again sounding tired
and defeated.

"I do not know, Remus," Dumbledore answered. "I do not know what was
different about this attack. That is something only Harry will be able to tell us."

"Will he remember?" Tonks asked.

"Yes," Molly answered. "He is always able to remember, though it would be best if
he could forget."

"No," Moody growled. "It is best that he remembers, or he will never learn to push
the intrusions from his mind."

Molly turned to Mad-Eye angrily, about to retort, but Arthur put a calming hand on
her arm. She hated that Harry had to go through all of this, and it made her blood
boil that they were discussing him as if he were nothing more than a pawn in this
war, a weapon.

Remus suddenly thought of the prophecy. He looked at Dumbledore. "Do you

think..." His voice trailed off at Dumbledore's warning look, but his heart was
gripped in fear when the old man gave him an almost imperceptible nod. So
Dumbledore thought that Voldemort knew the prophecy, and Remus knew that
meant that the Dark Lord would stop at nothing to find Harry and to destroy him.
Not, Remus reflected sadly, that there has ever been a time since Harry's
reentrance to the Wizarding world that Voldemort had not sought him. He was
simply afraid that now Voldemort knew the real stakes he would redouble his
efforts, and it would become almost impossible to keep Harry safe.

"Kingsley, Tonks," Dumbledore began. "Until Harry returns to Hogwarts, we are

going to need an increased guard around this house and around Harry if he
leaves it. Can you organize some appropriate people to help us with this?"

Tonks and Kingsley both nodded and got up to floo back to Auror headquarters.

Professor McGonagall asked, "But school, Albus. What about when Harry is at
Hogwarts? We can hardly expect him to travel the halls with a contingent of
Aurors."

Dumbledore answered heavily, "I have increased the wards around the school as
much as I am able, and it would take much to breach them. In the meantime, we
will all keep close watch on the situation for Harry's sake as well as that of the
school itself."

"Is there anything else, Albus?" Remus asked. "I really should be getting
upstairs."

"No; for now, this is all we can do. Everyone, be on your guard. Harry's situation
has never been more dangerous."

Although no one in the room but Remus knew exactly what the prophecy said,
Harry's danger was evident. They all nodded, and after securing promises from
Molly that she would tell them how Harry was when he woke up, Professor
McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody left the kitchen to go home.

Molly turned to Dumbledore, who had also been preparing to leave. "Albus," she
asked quietly. "What are you not telling us?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Molly, I'm afraid I can say nothing more at present. When
Harry is ready to talk about it, he will...and I know he will be ready soon. For now,
though, I leave Harry in your excellent care. I must return to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore turned softly to leave the room, and Remus followed him, intending
to go up to Harry's bedroom immediately.

Molly began cleaning up feverishly, continuing until Arthur put a hand on her
shoulder and drew her into a tight hug. "Oh, Arthur," Molly said softly, the
slightest catch in her voice. "How much more is he going to have to take?"

Arthur had no answer.

***

Ginny silently followed her brothers up the stairs to Harry's room, numb with
shock. This attack had been infinitely worse than the one she had witnessed the
week before, and the pleading she had heard in Harry's voice when he had
spoken of his memory of the Chamber had rocked her to her very core. How dare
anyone threaten Harry the way that Voldemort had! Even through her shock,
Ginny started to feel anger unlike she had ever felt, a cold, simmering anger at
Vernon Dursley, Voldemort, and anyone else who had ever tried to hurt Harry. He
was just a teenage boy, like her brother Ron. Why did he have to go through all of
this?

Bill and Charlie lay Harry gently on his bed, and even in his stupor, Harry
immediately turned on his side and curled into a fetal ball, trying to protect
himself even in sleep. Charlie sat heavily in the armchair next to the bed, staring
at Harry in shocked disbelief at what he had seen the kid go through. Bill,
however, immediately turned to Ginny and pulled her into his strong arms.

The affection from her brother was all Ginny needed to find release. She
immediately broke into great, wracking sobs against her brother's chest. Bill
whispered to her, "Shhh...little sis, it is going to be all right...Harry's okay now;
he's only sleeping."

Ron watched the scene as though he were miles away. He did not know how to
help Ginny or Harry or anyone. He was grateful when he felt Hermione's cool
hand slip gently into his own, and he looked into her frightened eyes, knowing
that his mirrored what she was feeling. They had been through so much with
Harry, but they had never seen him as broken as he had been downstairs. It
brought a whole new dimension to Harry's existence, and any jealousy Ron had
ever felt about Harry's fame melted into pity for his friend.

"We have to help him, Ron," Hermione whispered. "I don't know what to do, but
we have to help him somehow." Ron nodded dumbly, knowing that even
Hermione's millions of books were unlikely to help Harry now.

Ginny's sobs gradually faded into a soft weeping as Bill continued to hug her,
wanting desperately to comfort the young sister he had grown up trying to
protect. It was hard for him to do, though, because even his sharp mind was
having trouble wrapping around what had happened tonight, and Bill sensed that
Ginny's feelings for Harry had moved beyond friendship, beyond a crush, into a
deeper love and a fierce determination to protect him. He knew it, even if she
didn't. He knew this had to be hell for her.

***

Two weeks passed before Harry was able to get out of bed again. This time,
Madam Pomfrey had said that it was not his body that was exhausted, but his
mind and his heart. He spent most of his time in his room, always with someone
but still always alone, thinking about what had happened and about what he had
to do.

Voldemort, having gotten what he wanted, had not attacked Harry again. Harry
supposed, as did Remus and Dumbledore, that he was busy planning and
plotting on how best to ensure that the prophecy would be fulfilled in his favor.
Harry was not afraid, however. He just wanted this to end, one way or another, so
that he could try his hand at living a normal life. It was with this thought in mind
that Harry finally got out of bed and started spending time with Ron, Hermione,
and Ginny once more. Hermione had appealed to her parents to let her stay for
the last few weeks of the summer, and they had reluctantly agreed.
Two nights after his confinement had ended and Harry had begun wandering the
house, Remus marveled at how, although Harry always needed time to recover
from his ordeals, he was always able to bounce back.

Dumbledore had questioned Harry mercilessly when he had awoken the day after
his birthday. They had found out that Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy had staged a
tandem attack on Harry's mind, although how that had been done was still a
mystery. Lucius Malfoy was still in Azkaban when Dumbledore had checked with
the Ministry of Magic. There was no way anyone knew of that he could have been
with Voldemort that night.

Dumbledore suspected that the Dementors had indeed revolted, just as

Voldemort had claimed during the attack on Harry. Cornelius Fudge, however,
continued to insist that the Dementors remained Azkaban in the Ministry's
employ. He was still trying to politically recover from the disaster that had been
You-Know-Who's public return in June, and would not admit that it was possible
that anything else had gone wrong. Most likely, Dumbledore knew that meant that
the Dementors were serving Voldemort in secret, and that was how Voldemort
and Lucius Malfoy had managed to break into Harry's mind together.

This was a completely unheard-of use of Legilimency, and Dumbledore had

dedicated much of the past two weeks in research of different ways to achieve it.
The fact that both Malfoy and Voldemort had broken into Harry's mind at the
same time was not wholly unheard of, though it was unusual. It was the fact that,
from what Harry had recalled, the two had been able to work together, to see the
same thoughts - in effect, they had been able to work as one. For Harry, the effect
had been disastrous. Two powerful wizards breaking into the mind at once would
have been hard for even the most skilled Occlumens to fight, and Harry had only
been effectively studying Occlumency for a few weeks. The worst part was that
Dumbledore had yet to find out how they had done it, which meant that he did not
yet know how to counter the attack.

The Headmaster continued to visit headquarters daily and to work with Harry on
his Occlumency each morning. Like Lupin, he had been worried when the boy
had stayed in his room for so long, and then heartened when Harry had begun
enjoying his time with his friends again. Dumbledore liked to remind himself how
resilient the young mind could be, but in his darker moments he worried about
the long-term effects this was going to have on Harry.

So the last part of the summer wore on. Between the love of his friends, the help
from his headmaster and his guardian, and the healing of time, Harry was
becoming well once again.

End Notes:
I am not usually one to ask for reviews, but I would really love to hear from some
of my silent readers!

Back to index
 Chapter 13: O.W.L.s by WriterLady
Chapter 13: O.W.L.s

The first day of the last week of summer was brilliantly bright and hot, not that
Harry really noticed - he had not been outside of Number Twelve, Grimmauld
Place since his arrival a month before. Up until that day, he had not really minded.
He had Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to keep him occupied, Moony to talk to, his
Occlumency lessons, and the interest of trying to listen in on several Order
meetings.

Eavesdropping on the Order had become even more difficult because Fred and
George were now full members. With their newfound sense of responsibility, they
had refused to lend the others a set of Extendable Ears and would not tell them
what happened in the meetings. Surprisingly, the business-savvy twins had even
declined Harry's offer to buy sets of them for himself, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
"Sorry, mate," George had insisted. "Order rules, you know. We're not even
selling them in the shop. Imagine if Draco Malfoy got hold of a set."

Harry was in a rather bad mood that morning. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Molly
were all going to Diagon Alley to buy their new school things. Despite his
persistent nagging and offers to go under his Invisibility Cloak, Remus and
Dumbledore had denied Harry's request that he be allowed to go with the others.
All of his friends had offered to stay, but he told them that there was no reason
they should be cooped up just because he had to be. Strangely, Ginny had
seemed almost disappointed.

"Harry, hold still, dear," Molly said distractedly as she supervised a tape measure
that was taking Harry's measurements for some new school robes.

"It would be much easier if you would just let me go -" Harry began.

Remus broke in, "Harry, I'm sorry, but we've been through this and the answer is
final. It is just not safe for you at the moment, and it would be less safe for
everyone if you went." He felt bad about appealing to Harry's need to protect his
friends, but he was afraid that Harry would do something rash. As Harry's
guardian, he felt the weight of his responsibility and was rather apt to be stricter
regarding safety than Sirius had been wont to be. "Besides, you won't be alone.
I'll be staying here, and we can have a nice time on our own for a change. I've
wanted to show you some of the defense books in the library here and to talk with
you about your plans for the D.A. this year."

Lupin had said the magic words when he had mentioned Harry's friends, and
although Harry was not happy about it, he stood still while Mrs. Weasley finished
measuring him, only muttering a bit under his breath, words that sounded
remarkably like "unfair" and "not a child."
Molly and Remus exchanged amused smiles behind Harry's back. Even though
they felt bad that he could not go with the rest of the teenagers, his stubborn
arguments and mutterings were just more proof that Harry was indeed returning
to normal, or as normal as he ever was in any case.

Just as Molly put away her tape measure, Hermione came rushing into the room
followed closely by Ron and Ginny. "Harry, they're here! The O.W.L. results are
finally here!" She handed Harry a large parchment envelope addressed in
Professor McGonagall's distinctively spiky handwriting and signature green ink.

"It's about time, too," Molly commented, smiling at the looks of nervous
anticipation on Ron, Hermione, and Harry's faces as they held their letters, hardly
daring to open them. "Minerva promised me they would be here this morning
before we left for Diagon Alley. They've taken longer this year because so many
of the professors are working for the Order, I suppose."

Ron and Hermione cast sympathetic looks at Harry at the mention of the day's
outing, but Ginny did not even seem to notice her mother's words. She was
examining her envelope. Even though hers would not contain O.W.L. results, of
course, she felt a strange sense of anticipation, and she couldn't put her finger on
why the letter was making her so nervous.

"All right, you three, what are you waiting for? Ronald, I certainly hope you have
done better than your brothers!" Mrs. Weasley was almost as nervous as the
sixth years. She always wanted her children to do well, and she also hoped that
this would be one more accomplishment that Harry could be proud of.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione ripped open their envelopes in unison, and for a few
moments, there was silence but for the crinkling of parchment as they read their
results.

"Well?" Molly prompted. Slowly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. She looked
into their faces. Hermione, of course, looked ecstatic. They had all expected her
to do very well, of course. Ron had a smile on his face, too, but Harry looked
befuddled.

Ron gave his mother his results, and it seemed for a moment as if she were going
to jump up and down in delight. "Oh, Ronnie! How wonderful! Eight O.W.L.s! Oh,
I'm so proud of you!" It was immediately evident that Mrs. Weasley had been
rather worried that Ron would not perform well on his O.W.L.s.

Harry looked down at his parchment again, convinced that something would have
changed since a moment before.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you of the results of your O.W.L. examinations taken in
June at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please remember the
scoring standard as you read your results:

O - Outstanding

E - Exceeds Expectations

A - Acceptable

P - Poor

D - Dreadful

Scores of O, E, and A constitute a pass on each exam.

Scores for Harry James Potter, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey,
are as follows:

Transfiguration: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: E

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Potions: O

Astronomy: A

Charms: O

Divination: P

History of Magic: A

Congratulations on your achievement of eight O.W.L.s, Mr. Potter, with an overall

score of Exceeds Expectations.

Sincerely,

Griselda Marchbanks
Also enclosed was Harry's annual school letter and booklist. Surprisingly
enough, however, the book list was completely blank. The reason for this was
revealed as he read his letter from Professor McGonagall.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed please find the results of your O.W.L examinations. Please select which
six N.E.W.T.-level classes you wish to take in your sixth term at Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and indicate them on the checklist of classes
available to you below.

As always, the Hogwarts Express will be leaving Kings Cross Station, Platform 9
¾, at precisely 11 a.m. on the first of September. I trust the remainder of your
holiday has gone well, and look forward to seeing you at the start of term feast.

Sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Which classes are you going to take, mate?" asked Ron. "I can only drop one - I
scored an 'E' on Potions, so that class isn't listed on my checklist. Did you make
it?"

Harry nodded, not quite sure how he had achieved an "O" on his Potions exam.
Had Dumbledore had anything to do with these scores? He checked the list
again, sure he had read it incorrectly. Harry remembered how much easier it had
been to perform well on his Potions exam without Snape hovering over him,
insulting him, criticizing his every move, and he reckoned that must have made
the difference.

"What are you going to drop, then?" he asked Ron.

"Well, I didn't pass Divination -"

"Me either," Harry interrupted, the smallest trace of a grin on his face. "So that's
out."

"So I reckon I'll drop History of Magic. Pretty useless class, anyway," Ron
finished, and Harry nodded his agreement.

"I'll drop Binns as well," he decided. "Only, I have to drop one more. What do you
think, Hermione?"
Hermione was staring at her checklist. "Six?" she exclaimed incredulously. "Only
six?" I got twelve O.W.L.s! How in the world am I supposed to choose only six?
I'll need to talk to Professor McGonagall, of course, she couldn't possibly expect
-"

"Hermione," Ron protested, "You're barking mad if you're going to take more than
six! N.E.W.T.-level classes are really difficult and they are all double periods.
Remember what happened third year."

Hermione glared at him and did not answer.

Just as Harry had decided that he was going to drop Astronomy to make sure
that he took all of the courses required to become an Auror, he heard another
squeal from Mrs. Weasley. He quickly looked up from his booklist, which had
magically listed the required texts for his chosen classes as he had checked them
off the list.

Ginny, in addition to holding her school letter, was holding a red and gold
prefect's badge in her right hand. She was smiling but looked flabbergasted all
the same. She had forgotten about the prefect's badge in the face of the
difficulties Harry had been having, but she supposed that was why she had felt
nervous when she had gotten her letter. Being the youngest of seven children,
four of whom had already been made prefects, she felt a considerable amount of
pressure to live up to her older brothers' examples. She knew Fred and George
would tease her mercilessly, but she was happy with her achievement all the
same.

Mrs. Weasley beamed so brightly that Harry thought she could possibly have lit
the entire room. "Look at all of you! Ron and Harry with eight O.W.L.s apiece,
Hermione with twelve, and Ginny a prefect! Oh, this is such wonderful news! We
will have a celebration tonight after we get back."

Remus grinned as he shook Ron's hand, congratulated Hermione and Ginny, and
clapped Harry proudly on the shoulder. "That's excellent, you four."

"Oh, we have to get going!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed suddenly. "Ron, Hermione,
Ginny...if we're going to do all of our shopping and get back in time to plan a
celebratory dinner, we need to leave now! I must send Errol with a message for
Arthur!"

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looked sadly at Harry, whose smile faded as quickly
as it had come.

"Listen, mate," Ron began. "Mum can do our shopping - she has before. How
about we all just stay here and have some chess?" Harry could tell Ron was
trying to help, but he could see that the prospect of staying at headquarters for
the day was not one that Ron enjoyed.

"No, it's all right," he muttered, looking up and trying to smile at them. "But I fully
expect you to tell me all about Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and bring me back
some ice cream from Florean Fortescue's, and tell me if there's a new broomstick
out at Quality Quidditch Supplies..." he trailed off. He wanted to make his friends
feel better about going so he had made his voice as casual as possible, but
listing all of the things he would miss made him wish all the more that he could
go.

"Harry," Ginny started.

"No, really," he said, smiling a smile he didn't feel. "Go on. You've been cooped
up here with me long enough. I think I can manage for one day, and besides,
Moony will be here with me." Because of course I can't ever be alone, he thought
bitterly. His bad mood, which had lifted when he got the O.W.L. results, had quite
returned.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all followed Mrs. Weasley out the door and down to the
kitchen to head to Diagon Alley. After the sound of their footsteps on the stairs
had died down, he left the drawing room to return to his bedroom. Suddenly he
didn't feel like doing anything but lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

After waiting a few more moments Moony quietly followed him down the hall, but
he did not go into Harry's bedroom. Sensing correctly that Harry would resent his
presence right then but unwilling to leave him completely alone, Remus sat on
the floor outside the bedroom door, pulled a small leather-bound book from his
pocket and began to read, keeping his ears open for anything amiss in the room
behind him.

***

Harry closed the bedroom door, hoping that Moony would take the hint and not
follow him in, and flopped onto his back on the bed. It felt very strange to be
alone; he'd had constant company since his arrival at Headquarters. Strange as it
was, though, Harry was glad to have some time to think. Part of him wished he
had held the others to their offers to stay here with him, but he didn't want to
spoil everyone's fun; besides, they were safer without him. For the first time in
awhile, Harry found himself going over the Prophecy once again.

"For neither can live while the other survives..."

Harry knew that it was highly unlikely that he would survive a real battle with
Voldemort, a duel that was prophesied to end in one of their deaths. Voldemort
was so much more powerful than he, Harry, could ever be. He had been a wizard
for more than half a century, and Harry had only five short years of training. Harry
chuckled, but it was not a mirthful sound. It was hard and bitter, and very unlike
him. How could anyone think that he would be able to take down the Dark Lord?

All I'm good for, Harry thought, is putting the people I care for in danger. That's it.
There's just nothing else for it.

Thoughts of Sirius filled his head as he looked at the ceiling of his godfather's old
bedroom. This is where Sirius grew up, he thought. He knew that Sirius's
childhood had been, in its own way, as miserable as his own. And because of
Harry, Sirius had lost his best friend, the only family he had, and then had lost his
own life.

Harry blinked furiously. After the attack on his sixteenth birthday, he had shown
very little real emotion. He was just too drained to feel, sometimes. Keeping
himself distracted had been fairly easy, but alone for the first time in weeks, the
despair that he had felt while on Privet Drive returned to him.

"It's you, Harry. It's always been you. I died because of it. I died because of you."

No matter what Moony and Mrs. Weasley said, Harry still felt crushing guilt when
he thought of his godfather. Now that he knew about the prophecy, he knew that
the people around him would constantly be in danger. They always had been, but
now, knowing that he was a marked man, Harry finally understood the reality of
the situation. This was war, and he was right in the center of it.

"Your godfather won't be the last to die..."

Visions of Sirius falling through the veil and flashes of the dead faces of his
friends overwhelmed him once again. Voldemort was not doing this to him. This
was Harry's mind, Harry's fear, Harry's guilt - not all negative emotions came from
He Who Must Not Be Named. Harry and the others had been concentrating so
hard on keeping Voldemort out of his mind that they had all but forgotten that
Harry had issues of his own to deal with as well.

How am I going to do it? Harry thought desperately. I couldn't even perform the
Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange right after Sirius died. How am I going to
perform a killing curse? He felt as though the weight of the entire world was on
his shoulders.

For the first time since his birthday, Harry felt his emotions well to the surface. He
wished they would all just leave him alone, stay out of his life, because to be near
him was to be marked for death, or worse.

***
Remus sat outside the room, his reading forgotten, wondering what Harry was
thinking about or if he had simply gone to sleep. Remus knew that the day
without the other teenagers would to be hard for Harry. They had been the only
ones who could distract him from his troubles and make him smile. Harry and
Moony had become closer in the past few weeks than they had ever been, but
Remus was not a teenager and he knew that Harry needed their jokes, their
teasing, and their antics to make him feel normal, even happy.

Remus sat for a few more minutes, and had just decided to run downstairs to get
a cup of tea and the chess set for himself and for Harry when he heard the quiet
sobs coming from inside the bedroom. He knew Harry was not being attacked -
these were not the violent sounds that accompanied that. Should he go to him or
let him have this time to himself, which was clearly what he wanted?

No, Remus thought decisively. Harry may think he wants to be alone, but he
should not be alone right now. He needs to talk this out, or it is going to eat away
at him until there is nothing left. He stood up, brushed the dust off his robes, and
quietly knocked on the door.

"Harry?" he called. "It's me, it's Moony. May I come in?"

"Just leave me alone, Moony," Harry answered roughly, his voice broken by sobs.

Of course, asking permission to come in had only been a formality, and Remus
opened the door softly. "Sorry, Harry, I won't do that."

Harry sat up on the bed and glared at Moony through the tears that were still
streaming down his face. "Lupin," he said, his voice hoarse but fierce. "I don't
want you here. I want to be left alone. Can't you people give me five minutes of
peace?"

The older man noticed that Harry had called him "Lupin" and not "Moony" as he
had become accustomed to, and he was slightly stung, but he understood
immediately what Harry was trying to do. "Is this peace, Harry?" he asked. "Are
you really feeling peaceful right now?" He moved towards the bed and made to
touch Harry's shoulder, but Harry jerked away, refusing to look at his guardian.

"Harry," Remus sighed, sitting down in the familiar armchair next to the bed. "I
think you need to -"

"To talk?" Harry interrupted rudely. "You always think I need to talk."

"Harry, this is going to eat away at you if you don't talk about it."
"And what, exactly, do you think you know about it?" Harry's response was hard
and unfeeling, and his tears had quite stopped as his desperation had turned to
anger.

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, unable to look at the unmasked pain on
Harry's face. He had hoped that Harry would tell him about the prophecy, and that
he would not have to reveal that he already knew. He hadn't wanted Harry to feel
that Dumbledore had betrayed his trust, but now, clearly, Harry needed to know
that there was someone he could talk to about it, that there was someone else
who knew.

"Harry, I know," Remus said softly, his voice full of implied meaning.

Harry's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, which had fogged slightly from
his tears. "You...know?" Surely, Moony was not referring to the prophecy. He
probably meant that he knew what Harry was feeling about Sirius.

As if reading his mind, Lupin placed his hand on Harry's forearm; this time, Harry
did not pull away. "Yes, Harry, I know about the prophecy. Dumbledore told me
after I was made your guardian and you were brought back here to stay with us."
His words were gentle, almost whispered, as he searched Harry's face for his
reaction.

Instead of the anger he had expected, Harry's eyes became sad once again.
"Then you know why it is so dangerous to be my friend, Moony. You know what I
have to do."

"Yes, Harry, I know what you have to do."

"Then why are you still here? You should be as far away from me as you can be,
Moony. I won't let anything happen to you; I won't lose anyone else! It's me, it's
always been me, and there is nothing you can do about it, so stop putting
yourself in danger trying to protect me! Voldemort is going to kill me; it's the only
way this can end. Can't you see that?" Harry's voice rose in pitch as he finally put
words to the thoughts that had been in the back of his mind since the beginning
of summer.

"Harry," Remus spoke urgently, very alarmed at the thoughts that had been
running through Harry's head all this time. He had suspected that this was how
Harry had been feeling, but to hear Harry, himself, say that he was going to die at
Voldemort's hand was more than Remus could bear. "You say you can't lose
anyone else, Harry? Well, neither can I. You are all I have left, and you can be
damn sure that I am going to do everything in my power to protect you. You are
not alone. I will be there with you every step of the way." Moony's words came
out in a torrent as he tried desperately to make Harry realize that he would not be
pushed away.
"But Moony," Harry said, his voice growing quieter once again, "it's me. You
heard the prophecy. I have to do it alone. It's always been me. Sirius said..." his
voice trailed off.

"Sirius said what, Harry?"

"He said that he died because of it, that my parents died because of it. They all
died because of me. I won't let that happen to you, Moony. Or to Ron, or
Hermione, or Ginny, or anyone else!"

Remus knew, of course, that Harry could not have talked to Sirius since he had
died. He must be referring to the nightmares he had been having all summer.
"Harry, Sirius didn't say that. That was your mind putting words into Sirius's
mouth. It's how dreams work. You know that."

Harry nodded. I must sound so stupid, he thought, talking about a dream as if it

were real.

"Harry, listen to me, please," Remus began, searching desperately for the right
words. "It may well be your destiny to be the one who defeats Voldemort, but that
doesn't mean that we won't be right next to you, fighting with you. You don't have
to bear this alone. You can't bear it alone. No one could, not even Dumbledore."

Harry didn't say anything. He wanted to believe Moony. He wanted to know that
he wasn't alone in this, but his need to protect the people he loved was too strong
for him to allow himself to hope for help from his friends.

"I know what you are thinking, Harry," Remus said softly. "And, as I have told you
before, you are not going to be able to stop us fighting for you, and fighting with
you. We will succeed, Harry. You will succeed. You are one of the most powerful
wizards I have ever known."

Harry laughed hoarsely. "Me?" he asked incredulously. "Voldemort would have

killed me in the Department of Mysteries if Dumbledore hadn't gotten involved.
I'm no match for him."

"That's what you don't understand," Remus replied. "If you are going to accept
the part of the prophecy that says that either you or Voldemort will have to die at
the hands of the other, then you have to accept the rest of it, the part that says
you do have the power to vanquish him."

Harry had never considered it from this angle before. He had to admit that it made
some sense, but he still could not think of what power he had that made him the
one who could kill Voldemort. "But I don't know how," he whispered.
"That is what we are here for, Harry. Not only will we fight alongside you, but we
are going to prepare you for your fight as well. The power within you, once
harnessed, will be more than enough to do what you have to do. I've seen your
power, Harry, and even before I knew the prophecy, I knew just how strong a
wizard you were. And we will not let you fight that fight until you are ready."

"I don't want anyone else to die," Harry said brokenly, voicing his final and most
important concern.

"Harry, I can't promise you that no one else is going to die. This is a war, and in a
war there are casualties. But none of us will go quietly. All of us will fight. That is
the best that I can say, and for all of us, it has to be enough."

Despite himself, Harry was starting to feel, if not better, then at least calmer about
his fate. He searched his guardian's eyes, and saw in them only love, and
concern, and pride. No pity showed itself on Lupin's face, and it was that, if
nothing else, that convinced Harry to try his hardest to learn what he needed to
know. He started to feel some of the crushing weight come off his shoulders.

Lupin smiled at the determination that came over Harry's face. The boy sat up a
bit straighter, and even managed a small smile. "Thank you, Moony," Harry said.

"Don't thank me, Harry. Just know that if you need me for anything, all you have
to do is ask," Remus replied, hoping upon hope that this charge would finally
allow himself to trust him, to rely on him. Harry needed someone, an adult, who
he could confide in and who he could trust. Sirius had been that for him, and
Moony thought that Harry might finally be ready to let someone else come in, not
to take Sirius's place, but to pick up where he had left off.

Harry surprised Moony greatly by doing something he had never done before, not
even with Sirius. He turned and opened his arms to his guardian, hugging the
man the way he imagined that he would have hugged his father, the way he had
seen the Weasley boys hug theirs.

Moony's eyes misted a bit as he returned the hug, but he allowed them to dry
before he broke away and looked at Harry. "Now, what do you say we go on
downstairs and have lunch? I'm not much on cooking, but maybe some
sandwiches and butterbeer would suffice."

Harry grinned; for the first time in a long time, he felt hungry. He got out of bed
and followed Moony out of the room, but he could not possibly have prepared
himself for what his guardian would say as they were tromping down the stairs.

"So, Harry," Moony said with the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. "About
Ginny..."
Back to index
 Chapter 14: The Journey Home by WriterLady

Chapter 14: The Journey Home

The last week of summer sped by for Harry and the rest of the inhabitants of
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. His heart lightened considerably by his talks
with Moony and the easy camaraderie of his best friends, Harry began sleeping
more peacefully than he had in over a year, and as a result, by the time
September first came, he was feeling more normal and his grins came more often
and were more sincere.

Mrs. Weasley woke everyone at seven on the morning of their journey north to
Hogwarts, and after a rather hurried breakfast, the house rang out with the usual
din of four disorganized students and as many harried adults.

"Mum!" Ron called less than ten minutes before they were set to leave. "I can't
find my prefect's badge!"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in an exasperated voice. "Of all the things to lose!"

"Check with Fred and George," Harry suggested, remembering how the twins had
stolen Percy's Head Boy badge the summer before and transfigured it to read
"Bighead Boy".

"Fred! George!" Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs. "If you have Ron's badge, I
want you to return it immediately!"

Fred and George, who had asked Lee Jordan to run the shop for the day so they
could be part of Harry's guard to Kings Cross, shouted back indignantly that they
had not touched Ron's badge.

"Never mind," Ron said as he sheepishly emerged from searching his messily
packed trunk, holding the badge. "I found it."

Hermione sighed even as she smiled fondly at Ron. "Honestly, if you would only
pack properly, Ronald."

Over the past week, ever since they had spent the day at Diagon Alley, Ron and
Hermione's relationship had solidified and come out into the open. Several times,
Harry had come upon them in various stages of closeness around the house,
always when they had thought they wouldn't be seen. Harry had been worried
about feeling like an outsider if his two best friends began to date, but he found
that he was so happy for them that he did not even notice a difference. He had,
however, begun to spend more time with Ginny as Ron and Hermione began to
spend more time on their own. While he didn't quite know how he felt about Ginny
Weasley just yet, he was grateful for their friendship. She had a way of knowing
exactly what he needed, whether it was a joke, an open ear, or even a telling-off,
and he found that talking to her was just as easy for him as talking to Ron or
Hermione.

"All right, you four," Molly called. "I want your trunks downstairs now so Moody
can get them ready for the journey!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny lugged their trunks and their various animal
cages down the stairs to the entrance hall, stumbling into one another. As a
reward for becoming a prefect, Ginny's parents had given her an owl of her own.
Errol had finally become too old to make the long journeys to and from Hogwarts,
so Ron's owl Pigwidgeon and Ginny's new barn owl, Sammy, were to handle all
correspondence this year.

They reached the front hall, and Harry immediately noticed something he had not
been aware of the entire time he had been in the house. The wall near the front
door was blank. There were no moth-eaten curtains, and more importantly, no
screaming portrait of Mrs. Black. Harry stared at the spot where the painting had
been, wondering how they had done it. Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and the rest of them
had not been able to take the portrait down the year before no matter how hard
they had tried.

Moony followed Harry's gaze and answered the unasked question. "The
Permanent Sticking Charm was negated as soon as the house changed owners."

"Changed owners?" Harry asked. "Who owns it now?"

"I do," Remus replied quietly. "It is part of what Sirius left for me. You see, after
my parents died, I often found myself with nowhere to go. Being a werewolf
means, as you know, that finding a job is often difficult, and finding a flat can be
as well, so Sirius left me this place."

Harry smiled. "That's brilliant, Moony! I'm really glad you're going to be staying
here." It was the first time that the mention of Sirius had not rendered him
immediately sad, and Moony supposed that had to be a good sign. He was glad
Harry was starting to remember Sirius with gladness; it was what his old friend
would have wanted.

Harry's expression darkened as he was reminded of another inhabitant of Number

Twelve, Grimmauld place, one who he had blocked from his mind until this
moment. He looked around in confusion for a moment and then asked, "Moony,
what happened to Kreacher?"

Remus grinned bitterly; he did not like to be reminded of the house elf's
treachery. "I sent Kreacher from the house as soon as I got here. I believe he has
gone to Narcissa Malfoy."
Harry gasped. "Narcissa Malfoy! But, Moony, what about all the stuff he knows
about the Order?"

"That will not be a problem. Dumbledore had to place several very strong charms
on Kreacher in order to make him reveal what his part had been in Voldemort's
plot. Much like a strong memory charm, these measures rendered Kreacher quite
incapable of reasonable speech or even thought. It was not intentional on
Dumbledore's part; it was simply a side effect. I doubt Narcissa will find Kreacher
useful in any way; in fact, I would be surprised if she has not killed him."

Harry did not reply – his anger at Kreacher was great enough that he hoped the
Malfoys had killed him. That sick creature deserved nothing less.

Before Harry had a chance to ask any more questions, Molly came up to them.
"Harry, did you keep your invisibility cloak out of your trunk like I told you to?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley." The request had not surprised Harry. He supposed that he
would be walking to King's Cross under the cloak, and knew it was probably for
the best.

"Good," Molly replied. "You will wear it until you are safely on the train, and then
you will hand it out to one of us. Remus will wear it for the remainder of the
journey."

Harry stared at her. "The remainder of the journey?" he asked.

"I will be accompanying you on the journey to Hogwarts, Harry," Remus told him.
"I plan to stay under the cloak, however. We do not want the other students to
know you are traveling with a guard, do we?"

"I guess not," Harry replied. He was glad Remus would be traveling with him
because he was not anxious to say good-bye, but at the same time, he felt a stab
of annoyance that he was not even trusted to ride the train to school by himself.
"Do you really think I'm going to be attacked on the train?"

"Haven't you learned anything yet, boy?" growled Mad-Eye, who had come up
behind them. "You can never be too careful. Constant vigilance!" He turned to
Molly. "I've got the luggage ready. We need to be going."

"Right," Mrs. Weasley said, relieved that Harry had not argued about Remus
accompanying him on the journey. "Ron! Hermione! Ginny! It's time to go now!"

Harry pulled on the invisibility cloak and followed the others out the front door.
The walk to King's Cross was more than a bit nerve-wracking for him. It was, after
all, the first time he had been out of doors all summer, and Harry kept looking
over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed.
At several points on the long walk he saw people he was sure were witches and
wizards, even though they were dressed in Muggle clothing. For one thing, most
of them seemed to pay more attention than was strictly necessary to the group of
students and parents walking toward the station. For another, most of them had
their hands tucked discreetly into their pockets or suit jackets, and Harry knew
they were gripping their wands but unwilling to show them unless it was
necessary. He figured they were either Aurors or members of the Order, and his
suspicions were confirmed when he saw Dedalus Diggle, dressed as a
businessman in a very old-fashioned brown suit and purple necktie, standing on
a street corner in London, pretending to wait for the light to change.

No one talked to Harry on the way; it was part of the plan to ensure that his
presence remained undetected, although he knew Moody's magical eye had
remained on him constantly. He was glad when they finally reached King's Cross,
took it in turns to pass discreetly through the barrier between platforms nine and
ten, and found a compartment on the rapidly-filling train. After he had closed the
door to his compartment, Harry took off the invisibility cloak and handed it to
Mad-Eye Moody, who was returning their trunks to normal size and stowing them
and the protesting pets, who had traveled in their cages under Disillusionment
and Confundus charms, in the luggage racks.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny only stopped off for a moment before rushing to the
prefect's compartment at the front of the train, promising to return as soon as
they could. Harry sat alone in the compartment for a few minutes, enjoying
watching the other students as they bid goodbye to their families and gossiped
with one another about the upcoming year. He marveled at how few cares most of
them seemed to have – they knew now, without a doubt, that Voldemort had
returned, but as it had not yet affected them directly, they found it easy to push
the thought from their minds.

Molly and Arthur Weasley entered Harry's compartment just as he was

contemplating going to find some DA members to talk to, knowing that Mad-Eye
could tell Moony which compartment was theirs. Molly immediately went to Harry
and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Harry, dear, I want you to make sure you have a
good lunch. Do you have your money bag with you? I see that your trunk is
already here, and Hedwig. Now, I don't want you to worry about anything; just
enjoy the journey."

Harry smiled. This was Mrs. Weasley as he had known her for years, making sure
that her children had everything they needed and wanting them to enjoy
themselves. He broke away from the hug, assuring her that he indeed had
everything he needed and that he would buy a good lunch when the trolley came
around. Even though his appetite was quite back to normal, Molly had never
stopped encouraging him to eat. She had still not forgotten the way he had
looked at the beginning of summer.
He shook hands with Mr. Weasley, and as they opened the door to leave the
compartment he felt a slight jostle as someone he could not see brushed against
him. "Moony?" he asked softly, wanting to make sure he knew who was in the
compartment with him.

"Yes, Harry, I'm here," Moony answered from under the cloak, and Harry heard
the slight squeak of springs as his invisible guardian settled onto the bench seat.
Harry was about to ask him if he needed anything when the compartment door
opened once again, and a very flustered-looking Neville flopped onto the seat
across from Remus, his trunk dropping onto Moony's invisible foot. Harry
covered Remus's groan with a loud cough. Luckily, Neville didn't seem to notice
as his trunk shifted slightly when Remus pulled his foot out from under it.

"Glad I found you, Harry," he gasped. "Thought I'd never get away from Gran.
She's put out with me because I forgot my Transfiguration book."

"You made Transfiguration, then? Way to go, mate!"

"Well, I got an 'A', but Gran talked McGonagall into letting me take the class on a
trial basis. She reckons all I need is more confidence, and now that I have a wand
of my own..."

"You got a new wand, then?" Harry asked, not really wanting to talk about the
Department of Mysteries, where Neville had broken his father's wand at the end of
term last year, but not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah!" Neville brightened considerably as he pulled a brand-new wand out of his

pocket. "10 inches, mahogany, unicorn tail hair core. Neat, right? I've never had
my own wand before. Do you reckon it'll help?"

Harry remembered what Mr. Ollivander had told him before his first year about
wizards never getting such good results with other people's wands. "Yeah,
Neville! I bet it will!" Harry had been impressed with Neville's determination and
skill in the DA last year, and he wondered how much having his father's wand had
held him back.

With a lurch and a whistle, the train finally started. After Neville had finished
putting his things in the overhead bins, he asked Harry how his O.W.L.s had
gone. It seemed that Neville also wanted to avoid any subjects that might be
painful.

"I got eight," Harry answered. "How about you?"

"Well," Neville hesitated. "I got six."

"Excellent, Neville! Which six did you get?"

"I got an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, thanks to you," Neville began, and
continued before Harry could protest, "and an O in Herbology, and A’s in
Transfiguration, Astronomy, History of Magic, and...Potions."

"Potions?" Harry asked incredulously. "Wow!"

"Yeah," Neville said, looking rather pleased with himself. "It's much easier
without Professor Snape hanging over my shoulder, isn't it? Of course, I can't
take N.E.W.T. Potions with only an 'A', but I wouldn't have wanted to anyway."
Neville shuddered slightly. He was still terrified of Snape.

"I bet your gran was really pleased!" Harry said.

"She was. It was kind of strange, seeing her proud of me for a change. I don't
think she expected me to get any O.W.L.s."

"Of course she did, Neville," said Harry severely. "You know most of your
problem is lack of confidence, not lack of ability."

Neville blushed, and then, wanting to get the conversation off of himself, asked,
"So, are we going to continue with the DA this year, Harry?"

Harry frowned. He and Moony had talked about it. Moony thought it was a good
idea because even though they would undoubtedly have a better Defense Against
the Dark Arts teacher this term than Umbridge had been, he thought it wise for
the students to have as much practice as possible in dueling and defense. Harry
wasn't sure if anyone would want to be in the DA anymore, though, if they had a
decent teacher. "I dunno," he answered. "If we have a good Defense professor,
we may not need to."

"Harry," Neville said, suddenly serious. "My gran said the war is going to start
any day now, that You-Know-Who is just biding his time. Don't you think we need
all the practice we can get?" Harry thought he felt a slight kick from the
seemingly empty seat next to him as Neville echoed Moony's advice almost word-
for-word.

"I might call a meeting a couple of weeks after term starts to see what everyone
thinks about it," Harry said, resigned to the fact that the members of the DA
would likely want to continue, but not really knowing what else he had to teach
them. "So, how about a game of Exploding Snap?" he asked, changing the
subject. He got Ginny's well-worn deck of cards from his pocket. Knowing that he
might need a diversion while she was at the prefect's meeting, she had lent them
to him.

For the next hour or so, Neville and Harry played increasingly competitive games
while the train sped northward, and Moony watched them with satisfaction.
***

Draco Malfoy was the first to emerge from the prefect's meeting in the front
compartment. The others, the weasels and the Mudblood included, had stayed
behind for a few moments to catch up with friends they had not seen all summer,
and to ask the new Head Boy and Girl questions about their upcoming duties.
Draco had no desire to talk to the idiots from the other houses, and Pansy
Parkinson, the other Slytherin sixth-year prefect, was quite put out with him after
he had refused to date her over the summer.

Draco headed down the narrow corridor, keeping himself balanced even as the
train lurched slightly over the old wooden tracks. He had another reason for
leaving the meeting as soon as it had ended. He wanted to find Potter before his
friends had a chance to get back to him. He had a score to settle.

Halfway down the third car, he glanced through a compartment window to see
Potter and Longbottom playing Exploding Snap. He stared for a moment, silently
fuming, but composed himself quickly and opened the door, smiling sardonically
as Harry and Neville looked up, expecting to see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Hello, Potter," Draco drawled, lazily pulling his wand out of his pocket and
aiming it at Harry, quite ignoring Neville.

"Malfoy," Harry snarled, quickly drawing out his own wand and standing up,
causing the Exploding Snap cards in his lap to emit several loud 'pops' as they hit
the floor. He felt an invisible hand on his shoulder as Moony stood up behind
him. "I'm only going to tell you to leave once."

"Why should I leave, Potter?" Draco asked, looking around at the empty seats.
"Seems you have plenty of room in here. Maybe I'll just stay awhile."

Several more loud 'pops' sounded in the compartment as Neville stood up beside
Harry, his own hand of Exploding Snap cards hitting the floor as well. "Get out,
Malfoy," he said, his voice quite lower and more threatening than anyone had
ever heard it before.

"Stay out of it, Longbottom, if you know what's good for you," Malfoy responded,
never taking his eyes off Harry. "So, Potter...been having any good dreams
lately?"

Harry felt Moony's hand tighten on his shoulder. How did Malfoy know what had
happened over the summer? His father was still in Azkaban. Even if Voldemort
had been able to get to him there, there had been no reports that Lucius Malfoy
had actually left the fortress at any time.
Harry was not going to have this conversation with Draco Malfoy. On sudden
inspiration, he replied smugly, "Why, yes, Malfoy. Thanks for asking. I had several
pleasant dreams this summer, most of them involving a bouncing white ferret."

Neville snorted, and Malfoy raised his wand, preparing to attack. Before he could
say an incantation, however, Lupin, still under the invisibility cloak, pushed past
Harry and knocked Draco's wand from his hand.

"Dropped your wand, did you, Malfoy?" Harry laughed at the astonished and
fearful look on the pale, pointed face.

Draco recovered quickly. "I should have known you wouldn't be traveling alone,
Potter. Who is it? One of the blood traitors? Or is it the werewolf?"

"Watch yourself, Malfoy," Harry's voice lowered dangerously. "In case you didn't
notice, I have a wand, and you do not. Now, I'm going to tell you one last time.
Sod off."

Malfoy assessed the situation. He did not know where the invisible person had
gone, his wand was still on the floor, and Longbottom and Potter both had their
wands trained upon him. "This isn't over, Potter," he snarled, and, picking up his
wand before anyone could stop him, turned and left the compartment.

Neville lowered his wand and looked around the compartment. "Harry?" he asked
tentatively. "Who else is here?"

Harry had been told not to reveal Moony's presence to anyone, but before he
could think of an answer, Moony's voice came out from behind the cloak. "Remus
Lupin, Neville. I'm traveling with Harry today, under his invisibility cloak."

"Oh," said Neville, looking towards the corner of the compartment, where Lupin
had once again retreated. "Professor Lupin? Why are you here?"

"Oh, I just thought I would come along in case anything like this had happened.
Although, I must say, you and Harry handled yourselves quite well enough
without me. I was just trying to save Mr. Malfoy some embarrassment."

Harry laughed, and Neville asked, "Can't you come out from under that cloak,
Professor? It's weird, not being able to see you."

"Sorry, Neville," Moony answered. "I don't really want to make my presence
known on the train. I'm here to help Harry, not to cause any trouble." Neville
nodded, and all three had just sat back down when the others arrived, followed
closely by the witch pushing the lunch trolley.

"Anything off the trolley, my dears?" she asked.

Harry, feeling surprisingly chipper after the argument with Malfoy, bought the
largest lot of food he ever had, and the rest of the train ride passed pleasantly as
they swapped food, talked about O.W.L.s, new classes, and the other students
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had seen as they walked through the train on patrol.
Since everyone in the compartment now knew he was there, Moony even joined
the conversation, regaling them with some of his old stories from the Marauder
days at Hogwarts, stopping only when other students came into the compartment
to say hello, the former DA members all asking when the first meeting would be.

Night feel around the train, and boys and girls took it in turns to stare out the
window as their counterparts changed into their school robes. They disembarked
from the train at Hogsmeade Station and smiled as they heard the familiar voice
call, "Firs' years, over here!"

Harry, knowing that Lupin needed a private place to remove the cloak, walked
behind the last carriage, going carefully between the teams of thestrals pulling
the carts. After looking around to check that they were alone, Moony pulled off
the cloak and handed it to Harry, saying, "All right, Harry, this is where I leave
you. You are going to be fine, and if you need anything, anything at all, you send
Hedwig to me. Agreed?"

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling a bit sad to be leaving his guardian, even as
excited as he was to return to the school that felt like home. Moony pulled him
gruffly into a one-armed hug, squeezed his shoulder, and Disapparated with a
soft 'pop.'

Back to index
 Chapter 15: Draco's Choice by WriterLady

Chapter 15: Draco's Choice

As Draco Malfoy left Harry Potter's carriage, seething and humiliated, he silently
rebuked himself for seeking a fight so early in the term. It was not that he was
afraid of Potter or anything stupid like that, but his father had given him a very
clear warning the day before he had gotten on the train to go back to Hogwarts.

"Be wary of Harry Potter, son," his father had warned him as they sat in the parlor
of Malfoy Manor discussing plans for the upcoming year. "His time has not yet
come, and the Dark Lord has his reasons for leaving him quite alone for the
present."

"I'm not afraid of Potter, Father," Draco had answered, feeling insulted.

"Don't be obtuse, Draco," Lucius Malfoy had snapped. "Your feelings toward him
are irrelevant. You are a servant of Lord Voldemort now, and you must not let
your personal vendettas interfere with your mission."

"But Father, it was because of him that you got landed in Azkaban," Draco had
countered petulantly. "I thought you were one of the Dark Lord's closest
followers. Doesn't that mean anything to him?"

"Of course," Lucius had drawled. "I wasn't there for long, was I? Wormtail, that
worthless, sniveling excuse for a Death Eater, was made to take my place, was he
not? The Dark Lord has his uses for everyone. You will get your chance, my son,
and our family will rise to the very top of the new regime when the war has been
won. You must keep your patience until you receive more instructions."

Draco had wisely held his tongue at that point, remembering the ceremony that
had, only days before, made him irrevocably one of the followers of the Dark
Lord. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he had felt firsthand what
happened when his new Lord was displeased.

* * *Four days earlier

Draco's father woke him early one morning, one week before the new term was to
start. Had it been his mother who had woken him at such an hour during the
holidays, he would have complained, but Draco had learned long ago that
countering his father was decidedly unwise. He rose without complaint, and
hastily complied with his father's orders that he change into his black robes
immediately and prepare to leave. He had only allowed himself to ask one
question. "Where are we going, Father?" he had wondered. He and his mother
had gone into Diagon Alley the week before to get his school things and his
father was generally far too busy to take his son on outings, especially as most of
the Wizarding world still believed him to be in Azkaban.

"That is not for you to know at present, Draco," Lucius answered. "Do as I bid you
and meet me downstairs in five minutes."

Draco did not utter another word, but dressed quickly in his nicest set of black
robes and hurried to meet his father downstairs. He wondered what this was
about, and he felt more than a slight tinge of trepidation. Since his escape from
Azkaban, his father had taken to staring at him in the oddest sort of way with an
almost calculating look on his pale, pointed face. When Draco had asked rudely
what Lucius meant by it, he had been sternly rebuked and sent from the room, so
his curiosity over his father's attitude had gone unsatisfied.

When he arrived downstairs he found his father dressed in his Death Eater
regalia, but holding the accompanying mask loosely in his hands. "Come here,
Draco," Lucius ordered, and Draco began to feel apprehensive. Was this what it
seemed to be? Draco had not expected this to happen until after he was out of
school, but what else could it be? As he approached his father, Lucius withdrew a
length of black fabric and tied it over Draco's eyes. Through it all, the young
Malfoy remained silent, his heart beating a rapid cadence in his chest.

Satisfied that his son could see nothing through the blindfold, Lucius finally put
his mask over his face, and gripped his son's shoulder as he led him to the
fireplace. Draco heard the unmistakable "whoosh" of green flame as his father
threw floo powder into the grate and muttered something that he could not
understand. When his father's voice had changed into babble as he said the
words, Draco's heart stopped. He now knew, without a doubt, where he was
going. The Dark Lord was the Secret Keeper for the location of his headquarters,
and that was the only reason Draco could think of for why he could not
understand Lucius's words.

Lucius pushed Draco into the flames, and Draco felt the familiar spinning
sensation as he crashed through the floo network, landing hard on the stone floor
of the stronghold of the most evil wizard in history. He had barely managed not to
fall, and he stepped forward, his shoulder colliding painfully with the rough stone
on the side of the fireplace. Just as he was about to put his hands to his face and
remove the blindfold, he heard the "whoosh" of the flames behind him once
again, and his father grabbed his arm roughly. "Not yet," he hissed.

As Lucius kept a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him around many twists and
turns, Draco tried to guess where, exactly, they were. The air around them was
damp, like a dungeon, but warm, quite unlike the chilly underground passages at
Hogwarts. Draco also thought he detected a briny, salty smell. Seawater, he
thought. We are somewhere near an ocean, but which one? In the magical world,
travel time was not the indicator that it was in the Muggle world. Draco knew it
was possible - probable, even - that he had traveled hundreds of miles in his
short journey through the floo network.

Lucius grip suddenly tightened as the pair stopped. Draco felt his father slowly
untie the blindfold, and Draco blinked at the light of two torches flanking a solid
oak door with dark iron fittings. He suddenly felt very nervous, but with the
typical Malfoy pride, he kept his head up and did not allow his pale eyes to betray
his fear. This was what he had been waiting for since the Dark Lord's return, after
all.

"Bring in the initiate," said a cold, high-pitched voice, quite unlike any voice
Draco had ever heard. The door in front of them opened slowly with a loud creak,
and Draco's cunning eyes quickly absorbed the rather intimidating scene in front
of him.

He was looking into a large, square room filled with many black-cloaked figures,
all of whom were staring at him through masks identical to the one his father
wore. The group was divided down the middle, creating a long aisle in the gray
stone floor. Draco's eyes followed the aisle to a center of the room, to a raised
platform on which stood a large, stone throne.

When Draco saw the figure on the throne, his pride almost crumbled and he had
to stifle a gasp of fear. The figure in front of him hardly looked human. The Dark
Lord's face was deadly white, with red, snake-like eyes. It had no nose, only
narrow slits where the nose should have been, and the mouth was curled into a
grin that resembled a sneer more than a genuine smile.

"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," greeted the same high-pitched, hissing voice Draco had
heard in the hall. "I have been expecting you."

Lucius Malfoy gave his son a slight push forward, and Draco walked slowly up
the aisle with his eyes straight ahead and his head held high, ignoring the
masked faces that followed his progress. He wondered if his own mother,
Narcissa, was among them. Although she was not in the Dark Lord's inner circle
like his father was, Draco knew she was also a Death Eater. When he reached the
foot of the raised stone platform, he looked unflinchingly into the red eyes of his
new master, hiding his nervousness as he had been taught to do his entire life. A
Malfoy never allowed his emotions to show plainly on his face.

"Do you know why you have been brought here, Draco?" asked the Dark Lord.

"Yes," Draco answered. In his anticipation, his answer came out rather more
boldly than he had planned. It sounded almost like a challenge.
"You were right, Lucius," Voldemort said to the masked man who had just taken
his place on the right side of the dais. "He has much to learn about humility.
Perhaps it would be wise, early on, to teach the boy his place."

Lucius nodded, his eyes cold and unpitying under his mask as he stared directly
at his son. He knew the boy was afraid, but he felt no compassion towards him;
he knew that it was best if Draco learned early on what happened to followers
with whom the Dark Lord was not pleased.

"Crucio!" Voldemort said the incantation almost lazily as he pointed his wand at
his young new follower.

It was pain unlike anything Draco had ever experienced in his entire, pampered
life. He felt as though his nerves were about to burst out of his skin, and he
screamed like he had never screamed before. Voldemort did not hold the curse
for long, however. He lifted his wand after only a moment had passed, sneering
as Draco quickly tried to recover, wincing with every move.

"I demand unquestioning obedience and humility in my presence, young Malfoy,"

he sneered. "Do you understand that now?"

Draco no longer met the Dark Lord's eyes. "Yes, I understand," he whispered, the
pain only just starting to recede to a tolerable level.

"You will address the Dark Lord respectfully, Draco," Lucius ordered.

"Yes, I understand, My Lord," Draco corrected, still not raising his eyes.

"He learns quickly, Lucius. I believe he will be perfect for the task I need him to
perform." The Dark Lord turned back to the young blonde man in front of him. He
was very pleased with his new strategy as he told him, "I usually do not accept
children into my circle, Draco, but in your case I will make an exception. Your
father tells me you are quite sure where your loyalties lie and can be depended
on. Is that correct? Look at me as you answer, boy. The Dark Lord will know if
you are lying."

Draco obediently looked back up into the red eyes of the Dark Lord. "I am ready,
Master," he answered clearly, knowing that any hesitation on his part would have
painful consequences.

The Dark Lord was pleased. He saw no conflicting thoughts, no lies, in the boy's
mind. "Very well, young Mr. Malfoy. Kneel before your new Master."

Draco knelt, his eyes on the stone floor. He could feel the stares of everyone in
the room.
"Hold out your left arm," Voldemort instructed, and Draco immediately complied.
He felt a searing pain as Voldemort touched the tip of his wand to Draco's
exposed forearm and said the incantation, "Proteus velieris insignia." The
burning subsided quickly as Voldemort lifted his wand and commanded Draco to
stand.

A short, thin Death Eater approached the right side of the dais and handed Lucius
Malfoy a folded pile of robes with a mask laid neatly on top. Malfoy stepped
forward and finally spoke to his son. "Draco Malfoy, pureblood descendent of the
ancient house of your fathers, you are hereby initiated into this, the most elite
circle of wizards in the modern world. Death Eater, step forward and receive your
vestments."

***

Potter has no idea what he is in for, Draco thought as he continued down the
train, looking for Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who had been instructed to
hold a seat until his return from the prefects' compartment. Draco had become, if
it was possible, even more arrogant since he had achieved his new status as a
Death Eater. It was almost painful to him that he could not reveal this to any of
the other Slytherins, many of whom had Death Eater parents and all of whom
would be extremely impressed, but he had been ordered by his Lord to keep his
position secret from everyone. It was imperative to his mission that no one knew
a Death Eater was inside of Hogwarts.

His mission, thus far, was very simple. He was to watch Harry Potter without him
or any of his sickening friends being any the wiser. He was to report to his Lord
about what Potter was learning, and about any new powers he had. Draco had not
learned of the prophecy - as a new member of the Death Eaters, no one, even his
father, saw fit to give him much information. He scoffed at the idea that Harry
Potter would achieve any powers that he, himself, did not possess. It was
obviously not Potter's power, but his mother's sacrifice that had saved him when
he was a baby. Potter was just a normal Gryffindor, a blind idiot who chose to
befriend Mudbloods and blood traitors. Draco hated Potter with all of his being,
and his most secret ambition was to be the one who took him down.

Back to index
 Chapter 16: The Sorting Hat's New Song by WriterLady

Chapter 16: The Sorting Hat's New Song

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny managed to claim one of the last carriages to
themselves as Neville went off in search of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan,
the other inhabitants of the Gryffindor sixth-year boys' dormitory. Ron leaned
back on the wooden carriage seat and sighed dramatically, "Oh, I'm not ready for
sixth year to start. Why don't you just wake me when we graduate, Hermione?"

Hermione slapped Ron playfully on the arm. "If you're not ready for sixth year to
start, then why has all you've been able to talk about for the past two weeks been
the house Quidditch team? That doesn't happen on holiday, does it?"

"Well, no," Ron said, straightening up, his eyes brightening at the introduction of
his favorite topic, Quidditch. "Harry, you going to be back on the team this year,
mate?"

"Well," said Harry, "if I'm allowed. I got a lifetime ban last year, and last time I
checked, I'm still alive."

"Don't be stupid, Harry," Ginny snapped, not liking to remember how close he
had come to not being alive. "That ban will be lifted, I'm sure, now that Umbridge
woman is gone. Of course you're going to play, and I'm going to try out for
Chaser."

"Who do you suppose the new captain is going to be?" Ron asked the carriage at
large.

"Katie Bell," Harry answered immediately. "She's the most senior member on the
team."

"Yeah," Ron said, looking a bit disappointed. "She'll be good."

"At least she won't be yelling all the time like Angelina," Hermione remarked,
remembering the former captain's tirades at Harry when he had missed practice
due to detentions with Professor Umbridge. "I've always thought Katie was very
nice."

"Yeah, she's nice enough," Ron answered. "But will that really make her a good
captain?"

"I'm sure she'll be a fine captain, Ron," Ginny told him. "Besides, with the three of
us on the team, how can Gryffindor lose?"
The conversation about the house Quidditch team continued until the carriages
had halted in front of the impressive front entrance to the castle, the same doors
Harry imagined in his mental fortress, which had grown stronger and more
complete each day he had worked with Dumbledore. He felt an overwhelming
sense of comfort, of safety, radiating off the stone walls of the castle, and the
feeling only intensified as he walked with his closest friends through the door
and into his second-to-last year of school.

***

As prefects, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had to sit near the front of the table,
where the first years would sit once they got sorted, and Harry took a seat beside
Ginny and grinned at Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were waving at
them from about halfway down the table. He had to admit that it was nice not to
have half the students in the Great Hall pointing at him and whispering, believing
the Daily Prophet's insinuations that he was a lunatic and a liar. Most of the
glances he got tonight were friendly, not counting the usual sneers coming from
the Slytherin table.

"I hope the Sorting is quick this year," Ron said, just as he did at the beginning of
every start-of-term feast. "I'm starving!"

"Honestly," Ginny sighed. "You would think we hadn't all eaten five galleons
worth of pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs on the train this afternoon. Don't
you ever think about anything but food?"

"Not at the feasts," Ron grinned at her.

There was a soft tapping of a knife on a goblet from the teachers' table, and all
heads turned towards the front of the hall. Harry looked at the head table with
interest. There was Hagrid, dwarfing all the other professors from his usual seat,
and Professors Sinistra, Sprout, and Flitwick all looking attentively at the
Headmaster in the center. Next to Professor Dumbledore stood Professor
McGonagall's empty seat (she was waiting to lead the first years into the hall for
the sorting). Professor Snape kept sneaking sideways glances at...Tonks, who sat
cheerfully next to him and looked quite sedate, sporting long, dark hair and a
completely normal face with fair, creamy skin.

"Tonks?" Harry whispered incredulously. He had wondered why she hadn't been
part of his guard! Could she be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?
Tonks noticed Harry and the others staring at her and gave a small wink,
changing her nose subtly as they watched her, trying not to laugh.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Professor Dumbledore greeted his

students with twinkling eyes and a small smile. "I am certain we have many
things to say to one another, and some new faces to introduce, but first, let the
Sorting begin!"

The door to the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall led the usual line of
frightened-looking first years between the long tables and to the front of the hall.
She held the frayed and patched Sorting Hat in her arms, and after she had
placed it on its small stool, the rip near the brim opened, and the sorting hat
began to sing:

"A very long, long time ago,

When I was just a hat,
Sitting atop a young man's head
If you'd have told me that

I'd be sitting in this proud hall

Perched upon a stool
Ready to Sort into houses
The students of this school

I'd never have believed you

For then, no brains had I
Before the founders of the school
In their wisdom high

Granted me discernment
And cast into me their thoughts
Of who should be in their houses
And who, they thought, should not.

Rowena Ravenclaw, the brightest witch

Wanted those who had most wit
So students with the sharpest minds
Into her House I sit.

Godric Gryffindor, the brave and strong,

Wanted those of stoutest heart
So I place the most courageous
Into his House from the start.

Helga Hufflepuff, the kindest soul,

Above all valued friendship
So I place the loyal and the true
Into her House's kinship.

Salazar Slytherin, most cunning one of all

Wanted those with most ambition
 So I place into his House those
Who will work their dreams into fruition.

Ah, yes, I'll sort you, but I'm afraid

That once again I'm wrong
For more than ever, unity
Should be the meaning of my song.

War has come, make no mistake

And of those who enter here
Not all will return to their homes
Such are the times, I fear.

So band together, don't break apart,

And a victory we'll win,
I hope you'll heed my warning, and
Let the Sorting now begin!

The hat fell silent, and not even the slightest smattering of applause rang broke
the unearthly quiet of the Great Hall. The students were all completely
flabbergasted. The sorting hat had warned them of danger the year before, but it
had never said that there were those among them who would not be returning
home. What could that possibly mean? Surely the war wouldn't come to
Hogwarts!

After she took a moment to compose herself, Professor McGonagall began, as

usual, reading from her long list of first years. "Adams, Rebecca!"

A haughty-looking girl strode up to the hat, not looking a bit fearful. Harry and the
others were not in the least surprised when the Sorting Hat took only a few
seconds to cry out, "SLYTHERIN!"

The first Gryffindor to be sorted was a very small, timid-looking girl with brown
braided pigtails and rosy cheeks. When Professor McGonagall had called out,
"Davies, Sylvia," she had walked slowly up to the hat and put it on, as Harry was
reminded of his own trip to the front of the hall to be sorted. He sympathized with
her. The hat did not take long to proclaim, "GRYFFINDOR," and the girl took the
hat off and scampered gratefully to sit next to Hermione, who smiled warmly at
her.

Not long after that, Ron had started to stare longingly at his golden plate, wishing
it would fill so he could quiet the rumbling of his stomach. Finally, "Young,
Alexander" was sorted into Ravenclaw and Dumbledore stood up to beam at his
students from behind the teacher's table.
"Welcome, first years and returning students! I am happy to see you all looking
so well tonight. I know you are hungry, so I will go through our start-of-term
notices as quickly as possible." His eyes flicked over to Ron for just the slightest
moment, as if he could hear Ron's stomach grumbling.

"First, I would like to inform all first years, as well as some returning students
who seem not to have heard my previous warnings, that the forest on the edge of
the grounds is forbidden. This year, you will find that strict security measures
have been placed on the forest boundaries, and no one will enter or leave the
forest undetected." Harry knew that this had been done more to stop people
coming in than people going out, but he did not so much as exchange a glance
with the others.

"Secondly, I am pleased to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts
teacher, Professor Nymphadora Tonks. Professor Tonks is an Auror, and so is
highly qualified for the position. We are fortunate that she has taken time away
from her duties at the Ministry to serve in this post." The Great Hall erupted with
vigorous applause. Most of the students had no idea who Professor Tonks was,
but everyone was extremely grateful to have a teacher other than Professor
Umbridge and thought that taking classes from an Auror would be the absolute
height of cool. No one, however, clapped more loudly than Ron, Ginny, Harry, and
Hermione.

Dumbledore continued, "Our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that
the use of magic in the corridors between classes is strictly prohibited and that
he has expanded his list of forbidden items to include portable swamps, skiving
snackboxes, and generally anything else that can be purchased at Weasley's
Wizarding Wheezes or Zonko's Joke Shop. The full list is, as always, posted on
the door to his office."

Ron sniggered, but Harry wondered how Dumbledore had found out about the
skiving snackboxes - for the most part, they had not been put into use until after
the Headmaster had been temporarily replaced by Dolores Umbridge. Perhaps the
twins had told him?

"Having said that, however," the Headmaster said, smiling gently at all of them, "I
want you all to have a good year, and by that I do not mean simply to study hard,
although that is very important as well. I want you all to have fun this year, to play
games and make jokes. By allowing our enemies to alter our lives, we have
already given them a victory. Enjoy your time in school, for believe me when I say
you will miss it when it is gone.

"And, now, I believe I have only one thing more to say," he added, and when he
spoke again, Ron also said the words, considerably more quietly, "Tuck in." The
plates and goblets filled immediately with the usual assortment of delicious-
looking food. Harry heard Sylvia Davies' sharp intake of breath when the
mountains of food materialized in front of her, while the other first years at the
table, though impressed, did not seem as surprised. He wondered if she, like he,
had been brought up having no idea about the magical community, but he never
got a chance to ask her as Ron began piling huge amounts of steak and kidney
pie, mashed potatoes, bread and vegetables onto Harry's plate.

"Mum's orders," Ron said in answer to Harry's incredulous look, now shoveling
large amounts of food onto his own plate. "She said to make sure you ate
enough."

"But she didn't tell you to choose what Harry ate, Ron!" Ginny broke in.

"I'd have to be Goyle's size to eat all of this, anyway!" Harry laughed. Ron had
served him enough food for three people.

"Hey!" Ron protested, looking down at his own plate, which contained even more
food than Harry's.

Everyone laughed and began to eat. Despite his protests, Harry was quite hungry.
Ron, who had, after all, been taking three meals a day with Harry for five years,
had selected the dishes that Harry liked best, and everyone was silent for a few
minutes while they all concentrated on their dinners.

Just as the puddings appeared and Harry was about to serve himself a large
piece of treacle tart, a shadow fell over them. Harry turned quickly, instantly on
alert, but relaxed when he saw Tonks, grinning fit to burst.

"Tonks!" Hermione cried, earning several curious looks from nearby students
who wondered why she had greeted this new professor so informally. She
blushed and corrected herself. "I mean, Professor Tonks."

"Hello, everyone," Tonks smiled, and then lowered her voice so only Harry, Ron,
Hermione, and Ginny could hear her. "You lot can still call me Tonks as long as
we're on our own, all right?"

"Right, Professor," Harry said, grinning at her. He, too, lowered his voice. "So, is
this what you really look like?" He was not sure if she would want the other
students to know she was a Metamorphmagus.

"Right-O, Harry," she answered softly but cheerfully. "This is me as I am

naturally. However, it might be best if we kept my...special abilities to ourselves,
okay?"

All four of them nodded, and Harry was quite relieved that he had thought to
lower his voice before he had asked about her looks. Now that he knew he had
seen the "real" Tonks, he couldn't help but notice that she looked a bit like Sirius.
Well, he thought, they are cousins, after all, so why am I so surprised?

Ginny noticed the sad look on Harry's face as Tonks walked back up to the
teacher's table, and she thought she knew why. In her true form, Ginny thought
that Tonks really resembled Sirius, with her black, wavy hair and pale
complexion. She wanted to take Harry's hand, to say something comforting, but
before she could summon the nerve to do either, Professor McGonagall had
come up to the table.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," she said crisply. "I would like to have a
word with each of you in my office. Miss Weasley, I trust that you and Mr. Creevey
can escort the first years to Gryffindor Tower?" Ginny nodded and went to find
Colin, who had forgotten that he was supposed to sit at the top of the table and
was having a lively discussion with his brother Dennis near the other end.

Harry had barely registered that Colin Creevey had been made a prefect before
his mind kicked into high gear and he frantically tried to think what he could have
done to warrant a meeting with McGonagall on the first day of term. Noticing that
Ron's expression was quite as worried as his own must have been, Harry
followed McGonagall out of the Great Hall.

When they reached McGonagall's office, she asked Ron and Harry to remain
outside while she spoke to Hermione alone. They obeyed, of course; you did not
argue with Professor McGonagall unless the issue was worth a severe telling-off.
Shooting a curious glance at her friends, Hermione followed the professor into
her office, and the door closed magically behind them.

***

"What d'you reckon this is about?" Ron asked Harry with a worried glance at the
closed door.

"Dunno," Harry answered, quite as mystified as Ron. "Have we done something

to set her off?"

"If it was just you and me, mate, I'd be worried about that," Ron said, "but
Hermione? She never does anything wrong!"

"Right," said Harry, and Ron suddenly looked at him with an expression of
dawning realization. "What?" Harry asked him.

"I bet it's about you, Harry," Ron replied, looking away from him. He knew this
would annoy his best friend, but he could not guess why else McGonagall would
have wanted to talk to them.
"Come off it, Ron," Harry grumbled, but even as he said the words, he wondered
if Ron was right. The adults in his life had certainly not trusted him to be on his
own so far, and why should it be any different now he was at school? He
supposed McGonagall was probably asking Hermione to take it in shifts with Ron
to make sure someone was always with him, and the thought irritated him to no
end.

Before he had time to think any further on it, the door opened, and Hermione
strode out quickly, furious tears streaking her cheeks. "She wants you now,
Harry," she said shortly as she hurried past them and down the hall, ignoring Ron
as he called anxiously, "Hermione, what's the matter?"

After seeing Hermione in such a state but not being able to follow her and find
out what had happened, Harry had worked himself up into an almost panicked
mindset as he went through Professor McGonagall's office door and heard it
magically shut behind him.

Harry was panicked and irritated enough that he started speaking before
Professor McGonagall even had a chance to tell him why she had called him in.
"Professor, I know you've asked Hermione to watch me, and I'll have you know
that she already does! I hardly ever get time to be on my own as it is, and now I
never will! Hogwarts is safe, isn't it? Why can't I just be left alone?"

McGonagall glared at him sternly, reminding him with her eyes that he was being
incredibly rude. "Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled, not really meaning it.

"Potter, I have not called you in here to discuss whether or not you will be
watched while you are at school, and I did not feel the need to instruct Miss
Granger to do any such thing because I am confident that your friends will be
near you most of the time. I had another matter to discuss with Miss Granger."

Harry was surprised. If that was not the reason they had been called in, what did
McGonagall want to talk to him about? He looked up at her, the anger in his face
replaced by nervousness. He must have done something wrong, although he
could not think what...unless it had been the argument with Malfoy on the
train...but Harry felt as though, far from being reprimanded, he was to be
commended on his restraint at not cursing Malfoy into a thousand tiny pieces.

"I wanted to discuss your timetable with you," she continued, smiling to herself at
Potter's obvious unease. She would have to ask Remus Lupin if anything had
happened on the train to give the boy a guilty conscience, because she knew that
nothing had happened from the time he had reached school.

"My timetable?" Harry asked blankly.

"Yes, your timetable," she continued impatiently. "I see you have registered for
six N.E.W.T.-level classes, and I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to drop
one of them."

"But I need all those classes to become an Auror!" Harry protested, not even
thinking to ask why she was requesting this of him.

"You need five of them to become an Auror. Care of Magical Creatures is not
required," she corrected.

Harry stared at her. Drop Care of Magical Creatures? He would never get to see
Hagrid. Why did she want him to do this? It seemed so out of character. He
looked at her questioningly, not daring to protest.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes you to have a free period in which to continue

with your Occlumency training, as well as some other special training he has in
mind."

"Oh," was all Harry said. He had known that he would continue his training with
Professor Dumbledore, but he had thought he would do it in the evenings, as he
had with Snape. And what other training was she referring to?

"You will have to speak to Professor Dumbledore about his specific plans for
you," Professor McGonagall continued. "I will remove Care of Magical Creatures
from your timetable. Are there any other questions you wish to ask?"

Harry knew that any further questions would really have to be posed to
Dumbledore himself, as they all were about the special training Harry was to
have. He shook his head wonderingly.

"Very well, then, you may go back to your dormitories. Please tell Mr. Weasley to
come in." Professor McGonagall dismissed him with a slight nod, and he rose to
leave.

"Oh, and Potter?" she called after him. He turned. "I am sure it is unnecessary to
tell you that your Quidditch ban is no longer in effect, now that there has been a
change of staffing at the school. I expect to see you as Gryffindor's Seeker once
again." She smiled slightly at his surprised look, and then gestured once again
towards her door, which opened automatically for him.

"What was that all about, mate?" Ron asked him nervously as soon as he was
back out in the corridor.

"Nothing much," Harry replied. "We're not in for it, or anything. She just wanted
to talk to me about my timetable."
"What about your timetable?" Ron asked in confusion.

"I have to drop Care of Magical Creatures so I can keep working with Dumbledore
on Occlumency," Harry replied. "Dunno what she wants to see you about. She
said it wasn't about me."

Ron still looked worried as Professor McGonagall called sharply, "I have not got
all night, Mr. Weasley. You may talk to Potter later."

With one last look of deepest trepidation, Ron walked slowly into the office, and
the door, once again, closed of its own accord.

Harry briefly considered going on to the common room, not knowing how long
Professor McGonagall's meeting with Ron would take, but then he decided that
he would rather wait on his friend. If Hermione was going to be in the same state
she had been in when she left McGonagall's office, he thought it would be best if
he and Ron were together when they faced her and found out what was wrong.
Besides, Ginny would already be in the common room. She could stay with
Hermione for a few more minutes.

Harry paced restlessly back and forth along a short space of corridor in front of
the office door. He was very curious about this special training he was to receive
from Professor Dumbledore. He would be working on dueling in Defense Against
the Dark Arts, he was sure, and Dumbledore was already teaching him
Occlumency - what else did the old wizard have up his sleeves?

Harry knew that his time to fight Voldemort was not far into the future. He
doubted he would have even left school before it happened, and he knew that he
was going to have to find a way to defeat the Dark Lord. Once again, Harry
wondered what power that he could have against this experienced and deadly
wizard. He stopped in his tracks as a disturbing thought occurred to him.
Dumbledore was going to work with him on the Unforgivables...most specifically,
the Killing Curse.

At this thought, Harry's pace became quicker and more agitated. According to the
prophecy, either he or Voldemort would have to die in before the war could end; it
was the only way.

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

Harry felt sick as he heard the words of the prophecy replay in his mind. He did
not want to learn the Killing Curse, and he doubted that even with Professor
Dumbledore's instruction, that he would ever be able to perform it, even on
Voldemort. Bellatrix Lestrange's evil cackle popped into his head, quite unbidden
and definitely unwanted:
"Never used and Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to mean
them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it - righteous anger
won't hurt me for long..."*

As much as he hated to give heed to anything that evil woman had said, he
wondered if she had not been right. After Sirius's death, Harry had been nearly
blinded by rage, by the need to avenge his godfather...and yet, he had not been
able to effectively wield the Cruciatus Curse on Sirius's murderess. If he had not
been able to do it then, why would anyone think he would ever be able to do it?

Harry stopped his pacing suddenly and sat down heavily on the floor outside of
McGonagall's office, running his hands through his hair in his disturbance. There
had to be some other way to achieve Voldemort's defeat. If the Killing Curse was
the only possibility, Harry did not know what chance he had.

The door to McGonagall's office opened, and Harry stood quickly, anxious to find
out what the professor had wanted with Ron. Quite unlike Hermione, Ron
emerged from the office with a huge grin on his face, his cheeks flushed with
excitement.

"Ron?" Harry asked in amazement. "What's up?"

"Harry!" Ron suddenly seemed to notice his friend standing beside him as he
began the long walk to Gryffindor Tower. "You won't believe it! I don't believe it!"

"What, Ron?"

"I've been made Quidditch captain!" Ron exclaimed rapturously, and Harry quite
forgot his earlier consternation as his stopped in his tracks and grinned broadly
at his friend.

"Wow, mate!" Harry congratulated him. "That's brilliant, that is! You'll make a
great captain!" Harry noticed that he felt none of the hard feelings he had felt
when Ron had made prefect last year. He knew that he would not have time for
the captaincy; besides, even if he, Harry, was a good Seeker, Ron knew much
more about Quidditch.

"Thanks!" Ron said, his grin growing even wider. "There was a condition
though."

Harry was curious. A condition? That didn't sound like McGonagall.

"Yeah, just one condition," Ron continued. "I have to officially make you Seeker
again."

"Well, are you, then?"

"You prat!" Ron exclaimed, punching Harry in the arm. "Who else was I going to
have as Seeker? Neville Longbottom?"

The two boys grinned yet again as they each remembered Neville's first flying
lesson five years ago, in which his broom had gone out of control and he had
wound up falling off and breaking his wrist. As they reached the common room,
both boys were still grinning hard, sure that the Quidditch Cup would be theirs
again this year.

***

A fair distance behind the two Gryffindors, a solitary figure with blonde hair and a
pale, pointed face waited until they had gone through the seventh-floor portrait
hole into Gryffindor tower, and then stepped out from behind the statue of
Horatio the Hapless and turned to go to the dungeons. He had been observing
them ever since McGonagall had called them from the Great Hall, and he was
anxious to give his report.

Draco had been told that Harry Potter was learning Occlumency to try and defend
himself from Voldemort's mental attacks, but he found it interesting that their
idiot of a Headmaster had required Potter to put aside an entire class period for it
- was Occlumency all they would be working on? He sneered. Any skill Potter
could possess in Occlumency would be no match for Draco's father and no
match for the Dark Lord...still, he knew the Dark Lord would find it significant that
Potter was to continue his training with Dumbledore.

As he stepped down the many staircases back into the Entrance Hall, he couldn't
help but let out a derisive laugh at the thought of Weasley's excitement over
being made Quidditch captain. That Muggle-loving fool, he thought. Gryffindor
will be pushovers this year with that idiot as their captain. He had also not missed
the obvious affection between Weasley and the Mudblood, Granger. He snorted.
Leave it to a Weasley to fall for someone like her.

He pushed these thoughts from his head as he reached his destination in the
dungeons, not the Slytherin common room, but another room, one that only he
knew existed. He stared at a blank space of stone wall, glanced around to ensure
he was alone, and tapped it with his wand. The stones opened, revealing a small,
pitch-black gap. As Draco entered the wall closed behind him, and he knelt. "I am
here, my Lord."

***

When Harry and Ron entered the Gryffindor common room, they found that most
of the students had already gone up to their dormitories to unpack their trunks
and settle in for another term. Ginny was sitting near the fire in Harry's favorite
chair talking earnestly to Hermione, who still looked furious. Harry's and Ron's
grins faded slightly as they went over to her. Whatever had happened in
McGonagall's office, Hermione was clearly still very unhappy about it.

"She just doesn't understand, does she?" Hermione was saying to Ginny as the
boys came into earshot.

"Understand what, Hermione?" Ron asked as he sat down beside her on the sofa
and put an arm about her shoulder. "You didn't get a telling off for something, did
you?"

Hermione shrugged his arm from her shoulders and replied scathingly, "Of
course I didn't get told off, Ron; I haven't done anything wrong."

"Then what's the matter?" Ron looked affronted that she had refused to let him
touch her.

"Professor McGonagall is only letting her take six classes," Ginny explained.
"She's had to drop Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Divination, History of
Magic, and Muggle Studies."

"Divination!" Harry interjected. "But you dropped that third year! What's that got
to do with anything?"

"It's not just Divination, Harry," Hermione spoke furiously. "It's the other classes,
too! And I'll have you know that I got an 'O' in Divination. I studied hard for it, and
even if I don't have the 'Inner Eye' as Trelawney says, I have got the basics of the
different forms."

"You took the Divination exam?" Ron asked. "But you haven't taken Divination in
years!"

"Ronald, you are not limited by the classes you have actually taken. You're
allowed to sit any exam that you like! Honestly, didn't you read the Guide to
Magical Testing Procedures that McGonagall handed out last term?"

"Hermione, I don't even remember getting anything like that," Ron replied,
shrugging. "I must have binned it."

Hermione let out her breath in a loud hiss. It was obvious that anything anyone
said right now would annoy her greatly. "I'm going to bed," she said shortly, and
got up to leave without asking Harry and Ron what McGonagall had wanted to see
them about.

"Wait, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "I have something I have to tell all of you!"

"What then, Ron?" Hermione said irritably.

"I've been made Quidditch captain!"

There was a loud squeal as Ginny Weasley jumped out of her chair and threw her
arms around her brother. "Ron! That's wonderful! Oh, it's going to be the best
year ever! You'll put me in as Chaser, won't you? Oh, I can't wait for the season to
start!"

"Ginny, you'll have to try out with everyone else," Ron told her, but he was
grinning so widely his face looked in danger of splitting in two. Ginny broke off
the hug and socked him in the arm.

"Ow! What'd you want to go and do that for?"

Ginny didn't answer, just grinned at her brother. She was excited for him, and she
knew he would be a fantastic captain. She had never met anyone, even Bill and
Charlie, who knew as much about Quidditch as Ron.

Hermione had even found it in herself to smile. After Ginny had released Ron, she
went over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and standing on tiptoe to
give him a kiss. "Congratulations, Ron," she said.

Ron's face went red at having had his girlfriend kiss him right in front of his best
friend and his sister, but he looked pleased nonetheless. Harry and Ginny grinned
at each other. Aside from Hermione's frustration at only being able to take six
N.E.W.T. classes, they thought there had never been a better start to a new term.

Author's Note: The bit of the prophecy and the memory of Bellatrix Lestrange's
taunts about Unforgiveable Curses are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the
Order of the Phoenix.

Back to index
 Chapter 17: A Surprise Attack by WriterLady
Chapter 17: A Surprise Attack

After Harry put all of his things away in the chest next to his bed, changed into
his pajamas and taken a drink of water from the jug, he took a small vial out of his
trunk and considered it. Moony had given him the vial before they had left
Grimmauld Place. It contained a Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"You don't have to take this, Harry, if you don't want to," Remus had told him
seriously. "But here it is, if you want it. After this, if you feel you need some all
you have to do is ask Madam Pomfrey. I've spoken to her, and she will monitor
your use of the potion."

Harry thought about it. It made him feel weak to admit that he might need the
potion on his first night back at school. After all, he thought, nothing bad has
happened since my birthday. Why would it now?

He had almost decided to save the potion for another time when he looked
furtively around at his roommates. Neville, Seamus, and Dean were already
sleeping, the scarlet hangings drawn around their beds. Harry was not surprised;
he, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had stayed up talking, and it was nearly midnight.
Ron, having finished putting his things away, was yawning widely as he changed
into his pajamas. Harry decided that he did not want to risk waking his
roommates up on the first night of term. He bid goodnight to Ron, pulled the
hangings around his bed, and drank the potion without another thought. He was
soundly asleep in minutes.

***

When Harry woke early the next morning, he was glad he had taken the potion. As
his roommates stirred around him, Harry quickly pulled on his robes and stuck
his wand in his pocket, forgoing his book bag until he knew what classes he
would have today. He felt relaxed, well rested, and ready for whatever the day
would bring.

He and Ron met Hermione and Ginny in the common room ten minutes later, and
the four headed down to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione held hands in a
sickeningly sweet sort of way, and Ginny and Harry walked behind them, rolling
their eyes and snickering.

When they reached the Great Hall and began serving themselves breakfast (Ron
kept shooting furtive glances at Harry's plate, but did not try to serve him again),
they discussed their classes. For the first time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would
not be together in all of their classes, and it was not without a slight bit of
trepidation that they all received their timetables from Professor McGonagall.
Ginny was a bit nervous as well; this was her O.W.L. year, and she remembered
only too well how stressful classes has been for her brother and his friends the
year before.

Harry took one look at his timetable and groaned. This was going to be a hard
year, academically. All N.E.W.T. classes were double periods, and they were only
allowed to take six, which left sixth- and seventh-years more study time than their
younger counterparts. Suddenly, Harry realized that it was not something to be
envied; they would need every moment of it.

"Harry," Hermione said, looking sideways at his timetable. "It says you have free
periods on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. That can't be right - you passed
enough O.W.L.s to have a full schedule."

Not having wanted to take any of the attention off of Ron and his captaincy, Harry
had not mentioned his private lessons with Dumbledore to Hermione or Ginny the
night before, so he lowered his voice and told them all about his conversation
with McGonagall. He didn't mention the bit about the additional special training
that Dumbledore was planning. He wanted to find out what it was before he told
anyone; his friends didn't know about the prophecy yet and he didn't know how
he would explain why Dumbledore would want him to learn the Unforgivables
without telling them.

"Oh, of course!" Hermione answered when he had told them about the additional
Occlumency lessons. "Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, but the look on his face was so much more pensive than
usual that they all immediately knew he was holding something back.

"Harry, what is it?" Ginny asked tentatively, and he immediately tried to arrange
his face into a more casual expression.

"Nothing," he lied. "I'm just dreading Potions this morning, that's all. I can't think
of a worse way to start the week."

"Maybe Professor Snape won't be too bad now we've made the N.E.W.T. class,"
Hermione said unconvincingly.

"Don't count on it," Ron said darkly. "I don't envy you two. Personally, I'm glad to
be shut of the old - "

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "You are still a prefect, and the first years could easily
overhear!"

"I say 'forewarned is forearmed,'" Ron grumbled, but much more softly. Harry and
Ginny both nodded vigorously.
"Well, unless we want to be late and upset Professor Snape right off, we'd best be
going," Hermione said, ending the conversation and giving Ron a quick kiss on
the cheek before standing up. "We've got to go to the dormitory and get our
books and then get back down to the dungeons, and we've only got twenty
minutes! Come on, Harry."

"You two have fun!" Ron called after them smugly, glad that he wouldn't have to
deal with Snape this year.

***

With Hermione's constant insistence that they hurry, she and Harry arrived in
Snape's dungeon with a full five minutes to spare. Harry tried to catch his breath
as he swung his book bag onto the table he was to share with Hermione, and he
looked around as his classmates filed in.

As he had fully expected, most of the class consisted of Slytherins, including, of

course, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. They did not sit together; instead,
Pansy threw a disgusted look at Draco as she flounced dramatically across the
room to sit with another Slytherin sixth year. To Harry's great surprise and
consternation, Draco dropped his bag on the table right in front of the one he was
sharing with Hermione. Although he shot a blatantly malevolent look at them, he
did not say a word. Harry couldn't help but notice that away from his rather large
cronies, Malfoy seemed smaller than usual. However, he carried himself even
more arrogantly than he had in the past, and Harry wondered what the change
could be. Malfoy just seemed different somehow.

Because of Snape's requirement of an outstanding O.W.L. to gain entrance, this

class was unusually small. Besides the eleven Slytherins that Harry had counted,
the only other students were Harry, Hermione, Parvati Patil and her Ravenclaw
twin, Padma, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, and Ernie
Macmillan and two other Ravenclaws who Harry did not recognize. Hermione and
Harry exchanged friendly greetings with the non-Slytherin students, most of
whom were D.A. members, but before they had a chance to say anything besides
the usual pleasantries, the door to Snape's office opened and the greasy-haired
professor stalked into the room. Everyone fell silent.

"Welcome to N.E.W.T.-level Potions," Snape said, his voice anything but

welcoming. "Although I expected many of you to make this class, I did have a few
surprises when O.W.L. results came back." He glared at Harry, and then moved
his gaze to Justin and Susan. "Needless to say, now that you have proven what
you are capable of, I will expect nothing less than the best from each of you, and
from the beginning, I will mark all assignments to N.E.W.T. standard."
Harry could feel Hermione straighten attentively as Snape continued, "It seems
that there are those among us who have never performed to their potential in this
class." Again, he glared at Harry. "That will no longer be tolerated."

Harry bit his tongue as he willed his face to remain neutral. He wanted to shout at
Snape that the reason many of them had done poorly in Potions had nothing to
do with their abilities on the subject matter, but everything to do with Snape's
constant criticism and belittling of anyone who was not in his own house. Wisely,
however, Harry decided to remain silent.

"I do not have time to waste on revision if we are to cover everything necessary in
this class," Snape sneered. "We will begin immediately on your N.E.W.T. work."
He flicked his wand at the blackboard behind his desk, and many rows of his
spiky handwriting appeared. Before even reading the instructions, Harry could
tell simply by the long list of ingredients and procedures that Snape had, as
usual, set them an extremely difficult potion for their first day in class.

"These," Snape indicated the board, "are the instructions for the Wolfsbane
potion." Harry was slightly startled. Why had Snape chosen to teach them this
particular potion today? "This potion is a partial antidote for the werewolf
transformation. Can anyone tell me why it is only partial?"

Hermione raised her hand, and Harry immediately followed suit. Of course, they
knew of the Wolfsbane potion from the time they had spent with Moony since
third year. No one else, however, raised their hands.

Snape raised his eyebrows at the rest of the class. "Not at all what I would have
expected," he commented. "N.E.W.T.-level Potions students who can't even
answer the simplest question for such a common potion. I see that none of you
have seen fit to open a book this summer. How disappointing. Wolfsbane - " As
usual, he ignored Hermione and Harry as they kept their hands pointedly in the
air.

Just as Harry put his hand down, Hermione predictably spoke out, "Sir, the
Wolfsbane potion is only considered a partial antidote to the werewolf
transformation because, while it allows the taker to retain his or her normal
human mind during the transformation, it does not prevent the physical changes
during the full moon."

"Miss Granger, I did not call on you," Snape began, and Harry just knew he was
going to take points from Gryffindor. Harry was surprised when Snape continued,
"but your answer is correct. However, if you wish to remain in this class, you will
remember that you are not to speak until you are called upon." Hermione nodded,
as surprised at Harry that Snape had not taken points. Calling out answers in
class was one area in which Hermione had barely improved since her first year,
and neither could remember a time in which Snape had let it go this easily.
"Now, before Miss Know-It-All Granger interrupted, I was going to tell you that
Wolfsbane must be taken daily for the entire week prior to each full moon. Just
one missed dose and the transformation will go on as normal, with the victim
transforming both in mind and in body." Harry shuddered at this. In his third year,
he had seen what had happened to Remus during a transformation after he had
forgotten to take the Wolfsbane. He never wanted to see that again.

"I think," Professor Snape said, looking at all of them scornfully, "that we will see
what you can do without further instruction. You will find everything you need in
the store cupboard, and your instructions are on the board. If brewed correctly,
this potion will be opaque and murky brown in color with a moderate amount of
pale-green steam. You have one hour and twenty minutes to complete today's
work. Begin."

Determined that this was one potion he would learn to make perfectly, Harry
began reading the instructions on the board carefully, copying them down on a
piece of parchment, while Hermione went to collect their ingredients from the
student store cupboard. If he could learn to make this potion correctly, Remus
would no longer have to depend upon Snape to provide him with it the week
before the full moon, and Harry didn't like to think of Remus having to depend
upon Snape for anything.

Harry and Hermione did not talk while they worked as they usually did, except to
check on one another's progress as the hour went on. It seemed that Hermione
was just as determined as Harry to get the potion exactly right, but as she was
always determined to get everything exactly right, he wasn't sure if this was
actually anything new. Never before had Harry chopped his ingredients so
carefully, watched the clock so diligently, and checked the flames on his cauldron
as constantly as he did today. Even Professor Snape, who hovered over Harry
even more than he did the rest of his students, found nothing to criticize.

At the end of the period, Harry's efforts were rewarded by an opaque, murky-
brown potion giving off moderate amounts of steam. His was identical to
Hermione's, and that was an accomplishment, seeing as how Harry had never
attempted a more difficult potion than this one on his own. Feeling confident that
he had done well, he poured a small amount of potion into a glass vial, and took it
up to Professor Snape's desk, muttering to Hermione as he went not to clean up
his cauldron until he made sure Snape had received the sample for marking.

As he placed his and Hermione's vials on the center of the teacher's table, Snape
muttered without looking at him, "Potter, I want to see you after the others leave
the room." Harry nodded, wondering what this was about. He went back to
Hermione and they cleaned up their cauldrons quickly, feeling that Potions, at
least, had gotten off to a good start. She looked concerned when Harry told her
that he had been asked to stay, but she left the room with the others after Snape
had assigned a two-foot essay on the significance of the ingredients of
Wolfsbane, promising to wait for Harry down the hall.

Harry had gathered all of his things so that he would be able to leave the room
quickly, and as soon as the last sixth-year had left the classroom, he approached
Snape's desk. "Professor, you wanted to see-"

Snape did not give him time to finish, but stood up quickly, raised his wand, and
before Harry had time to react, cried, "Legilimens!"

Harry was completely unprepared, and as he felt the violent push that was
Snape's intrusion on his mind, memories began to play in his head...memories he
feared...memories he treasured...

Only three or four seconds passed before Harry was able to throw up his
defenses and begin pushing the intruder out of his mind. In his surprise and
anger, Harry pushed back harder than he had ever done before. He panted from
the exertion, sweat pouring from his brow. With one final, very intense push,
Harry's mind cleared. He had succeeded.

Professor Snape stumbled backwards into the blackboard from the force of
Harry's defense, and Harry himself leaned on the front table as they glared at
each other. "Whose side are you on, anyway?" Harry snapped, feeling the
beginnings of a headache pounding in his temples.

"Watch your tone, Potter," Snape warned him coldly. "As a member of the Order,
it is my responsibility to see that you are keeping up your end of the bargain,
learning Occlumency the way you are supposed to."

"No, sir," Harry replied, barely keeping his temper in check. "It was your
responsibility last year, wasn't it? Since you didn't see fit to actually teach me
anything, I reckon it's none of your concern anymore."

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously, but Harry was beyond caring. "I won't deny
that your skills have improved, Potter," he said coldly, "but your arrogance is
going to do nothing but put you into more unnecessary danger, as well as your
friends." Although he did not specifically mention the Department of Mysteries,
the implication was clear, and Harry's temper finally boiled over.

"Well, you didn't help much there, did you? I tried to tell you, to warn you! But
you just left! Better to save your own sorry skin than to actually try and help us,
wasn't it?" Harry shouted, his head pounding furiously.

"Do not speak of things you do not understand, Potter," Snape replied just as
furiously. "You should count yourself lucky that I was able to alert the Order in
time to save your pitiful life."
"It wasn't my life that needed saving!" Harry screamed, totally out of control now
that he had finally found an outlet for his fury. "You knew it was a trick! You could
have stopped us going there! But you didn't care about Sirius, all because of
some stupid trick he played on you back when you were in school! I think you did
it on purpose, I think you wanted me to go to the Department of Mysteries...it was
what your master wanted, wasn't it?"

Snape raised his wand, his face white with rage, and hissed, "Get out, Potter. Get
out, now."

Without another word, Harry spun and ran, the pain in his head so blinding that
he sped right past his supplies on the table and out of the room, slamming the
door shut behind him.

As Harry ran down the dungeon corridor, he was too furious, too out of control,
to notice Draco Malfoy slip out from around the corner and head the opposite
direction, deeper into the dungeons, his pale face set in a decided smirk.

***

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as her friend rounded the corner, his face white and
sweaty, his mouth set in a furious line. "What happened?"

Upon hearing her voice, Harry finally stopped running, but he did not look at her.
Instead, still looking slightly crazed, he backed into the stone wall and slid down
it, hiding his face in his hands. He was shaking badly, and Hermione was terrified
that he'd had another attack.

"Harry?" she asked softly, approaching him and kneeling next to him, putting her
hand on his shoulder. "Harry, do you need someone? Should I go get Professor
Dumbledore? Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry shrugged her hand away and did not look up as he replied, "Just go away,
Hermione. Leave me alone."

Hermione didn't know what to do. Harry sounded extremely angry, but he seemed
completely conscious and aware of his surroundings, very much unlike he had
following the attack on his birthday. What had happened between Harry and
Professor Snape to put Harry in such a state? He had seemed so much better
lately, so much happier...what could have changed that so completely?

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said gently. "We have study period next in the
library, but no one will notice if we aren't there. Let's go back to the common
room."
"Hermione, didn't you hear me?" Harry asked furiously. "I want to be left alone.
Just go on. I'll see you later." He tried to calm his voice down as he looked up
into her concerned face, but the last thing he wanted was a long, drawn-out
conversation with her. "Go on. I'll see you at lunch," he repeated, trying to make
his voice sound more even.

"Harry, I don't think..."

"Hermione, go. Just go away, all right?" His voice was harsh again, and Hermione
could feel the anger radiating from his body. She backed away, and finally began
to walk up the corridor towards the stairs, deciding that she would find someone
else to come down and talk to Harry. She knew Harry well enough to know that if
she did not leave, he would only become more furious. However, she could not
resist one last glance at him before she went up the stairs, and she was alarmed,
although not altogether surprised, to see his entire body still shaking with fury.

***

Draco entered the special chamber in the dungeons only after making sure that
no one else had seen him. He had been told that this chamber had been built
during the first war, to allow his Lord to communicate with his servants at
Hogwarts undetected. By some powerfully invoked magic, the room was
impervious to the wards surrounding the castle. Although no one could enter or
leave Hogwarts through it, open and secret communication was possible.

When he heard the stone wall slide shut behind him, and he was again in
complete darkness, Draco knelt on the floor, his eyes down. "I am here, my Lord,"
he said softly.

The voice of the Dark Lord filled the small space, and Draco could hear him as
clearly as he would have if they had been standing side-by-side. "Ah, yes, my
young Death Eater," he hissed. "Do you have information for me?"

"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered meekly, never raising his eyes. He was not sure
if Lord Voldemort could see him or not, and he took no chances of incurring his
wrath.

"Very well," hissed the voice once again. "Speak quickly. I have other matters
requiring my attention."

"Professor Snape kept Potter after class this morning," Draco began, speaking
quickly but with more humility than anyone else who knew him would have
believed possible. "I listened from around the corner. Snape tried to perform
Legilimency on Potter, but Potter was able to close him out."

"Of course he was," the voice almost purred. "Continue."

"Professor Snape accused Potter of being arrogant, and Potter asked him which
side he was on. Potter thinks Snape purposefully ignored him when he tried to
communicate what had happened at the Department of Mysteries."

"Potter is not as dull as many believe him to be. Snape was indeed part of my
plan, as you now know, young Malfoy."

"Yes, my Lord." Draco was not as certain of Snape's loyalty, but he knew his
master had ways of finding the truth. It would be dangerous to speak of it without
proof.

"What about the girl, the little redhead?" Voldemort hissed, a hint of cold
amusement in his voice.

"They are always together, my Lord," Draco answered, "besides when they are in
classes, or she is on prefect patrol."

"Yes, Potter is starting to care for her. I have seen it in his mind. She, her brother,
and the Mudblood may well be useful tools. Keep watching, but make no move."

"I will, my Lord," Draco answered, but there was the slightest hint of petulance in
his voice now.

"You will have your chance, young Malfoy. Now, go before anyone notices your
absence. I will await your next report."

Draco could sense that Lord Voldemort had left him, and he stood, smoothing his
robes carefully before exiting silently from the chamber.

***

Harry sat in the corridor for a full five minutes, trying to regain enough control to
get up and leave the dungeons. He kept his head down, hidden from the second-
year students that were now trickling past to go to their own Potions lesson. The
students were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and none of them recognized Harry,
although several of them wondered why this older student was sitting alone in
the hallway, his head buried in his knees. After he was certain all of the students
had passed, Harry slowly rose, looked around, and walked up the stairs into the
deserted Entrance Hall. He did not know where Hermione had gone, but knowing
her as he did he supposed she had gone to find an adult. Typical, he thought
bitterly. I can't even be angry without someone raising the alarm.

Harry did not want to talk to anyone, least of all Professor Dumbledore, and he
guessed correctly that Hermione had gone straight up to the Headmaster's office
to find him. He crossed the Entrance Hall furiously, wrenching open the large
front door, and then stopped for a second in the courtyard, wondering where he
should go. Finally deciding to take a walk around the lake in the cool, mid-
morning air, he headed down and started walking, going in the opposite direction
than Hagrid's cabin lay.

As he walked his fury with Snape abated somewhat, and it was replaced by
complete disgust with himself. He should have kept his temper with the Potions
master. His outburst was going to do nothing more than increase the man's
irritation with him.

But so what if it does? he thought, kicking a small rock out of his way. It's not like
we got along to begin with, and the old bat had it coming to him. I should not
have gone to the Department of Mysteries, but he was the one person who could
have stopped me. If he had, Sirius would still be alive; my friends wouldn't have
gotten hurt...

His fury returned and he broke into a run, stopping only when a sharp pain down
his left side doubled him over. He sat down heavily against a tree, staring out at
the water. Fury, despair, and guilt fought for domination in his mind, and all the
positive emotion from yesterday had evaporated completely.

Back to index
 Chapter 18: Tempers Fly by WriterLady

Chapter 18: Tempers Fly

Hermione was not sure what she should do. She couldn't find Professor
Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall was in class. Since Harry had not, as far
as Hermione could tell, suffered another attack from Voldemort, she thought it
unlikely that interrupting McGonagall's class was a very wise idea, and she did
not actually think that Harry needed Madam Pomfrey. Hermione realized that
leaving Harry in the dungeon corridor had probably not been the best idea, but
since she already had, she decided that she would go and find Ron in the library
and they would go down to find him together.

She entered the library, which was full of sixth- and seventh-years already
revising for their N.E.W.T. classes. She sighed. She really should start work on
the Wolfsbane essay, but she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate until she
knew Harry was all right. She scanned the students at the study tables, and it
didn't take her long to find the fiery red hair of her boyfriend, who was actually
doing more staring off into space than revising. She walked quietly up to him,
keeping her eyes open for Madam Pince, the librarian. "Ron," she whispered,
startling him out of his reverie.

"Oi, Hermione, why'd you have to scare a guy like that?" Ron asked, moving his
book bag aside so she would have room to work in the seat next to him. "How
was Snape?"

"Fine," Hermione whispered. "But Ron, I need you to come down to the dungeons
with me."

"Hermione! We're supposed to be studying!" Ron whispered back with a wicked

grin, thinking that she wanted to find a private cupboard for some alone time with
him.

"Honestly, Ronald, just because all you can think about is-" Hermione began
hotly, but at that moment, Madam Pince shot a loud "Shh!" in their direction and
brandished her feather duster at them.

"Anyway, Ron, we need to go back down there to talk to Harry. He's really upset
about something."

Ron looked alarmed, but did not reply, as it appeared that Madam Pince was just
barely restraining herself from coming at them with a heavy book. He silently
gathered his books and followed her from the library.

"What's going on?" he asked as soon as the library door shut firmly behind them.
Hermione was walking very quickly towards the dungeons. "Is Harry okay?"
"I don't know," Hermione snapped. "I tried to ask him, but he's really angry about
something. Snape kept him after class, and -"

"Snape kept him after class on the first day? What'd he do?"

"Nothing, Ron, and his potion came out perfectly, so I couldn't guess what
Professor Snape wanted from him. I told him I'd wait for him in the corridor. He
wasn't in there long, but when he came out, he looked as angry as I've ever seen
him look, and I swear he nearly killed me when I suggested that we go find
someone to help."

"You don't think it was...You-Know-Who...do you?" Ron asked worriedly as they

continued to walk as quickly as possible.

"At first I was worried about that, but he didn't seem anything like the way he
seemed after Voldemort attacked him. It frightened me, though, Ron...I don't think
I've seen Harry look that way since...well, for a long time."

They reached the dungeon corridor and found no sign of Harry or anyone else, as
the eleven o'clock class period had begun a few minutes before. They turned to
leave, shooting worried glances at one another, when a drawling, familiar voice
sounded behind them.

"If it isn't Weasel and the Mudblood," Draco taunted from behind them. Ron's ears
immediately turned red as he spun around to face Malfoy.

"Say that again, Malfoy, go on," Ron threatened, pulling his wand from his
pocket, and ignoring Hermione, who had grabbed his other arm to hold him back.

"Of course, I wouldn't be caught dead with a Muggle-born," Draco continued,

looking quite unafraid, although he had also taken his wand out and was twirling
it lazily in his fingers. "But I suppose your family has had to lower their
standards, haven't they, Weasel? There's not a pureblood in England who would
marry a Weasley."

"Ron, ignore him. He's not worth it!" Hermione said furiously, tugging on Ron's
arm again. "We need to go find Harry!"

"Oh, lost Potty, have you?" Draco drawled. "Maybe he's gone off with your sister,
Weasel...he's been dying to -"

Ron wrenched free from Hermione's grasp, launching himself at Malfoy, who was
caught off guard that Ron hadn't thought to try and hex him. Ron managed to
land one punch on Malfoy's pointed chin when a door opened a short way down
the corridor and Professor Snape quickly intervened.
"Well, well," he said silkily, grabbing the back of Ron's robes and pulling him
back from Malfoy. "It seems that you haven't even been able to make it the first
week of term without getting yourself into trouble, Mr. Weasley. Let's see...I think
twenty points from Gryffindor would make a nice start to the year, wouldn't it?
And I'll have an additional ten from your house for finding two prefects so far
away from where they should be."

Hermione gripped Ron's shoulder in warning, and he held his temper in check
although he glared daggers at Professor Snape.

"We were looking for Harry, Professor," Hermione said before anyone else could
speak. "Have you seen him?"

"Now, why would I have seen him, Miss Granger? Before you two decided to
attack Mr. Malfoy right outside my classroom door, I was teaching a class."
Malfoy smirked as Professor Snape glared at Ron and Hermione. "Now, I believe
all three of you have somewhere else you need to be. Go, before I decide to take
more points."

Ron looked like he was about to retort, but Hermione grabbed his arm fiercely
and pulled him back up the stone staircase. When they were safely out of earshot,
Ron tore his arm out of her grasp and snarled, "When I think of those two slimy
little -" he called them a name that caused Hermione to blush, "I just want to hex
them both into a thousand pieces and get it done with."

"Well, I'm glad to see your common sense intervened, Ronald," Hermione said
sarcastically. "Your fist was a much better choice of weapon."

Ron gaped at her. "Like you're one to talk...I seem to remember a certain
someone hitting Malfoy around the face third year!"

Hermione blushed but smiled, and Ron could see that she wasn't really angry
with him. "Come on, Ron, maybe Harry's gone up to the common room. Let's go
find out what happened."

Harry was not in the common room, nor was he in the boys' dormitory, the
owlery, the library, or even the Room of Requirement. By the time Hermione and
Ron had finished searching all of those places, they were quite out of breath and
getting increasingly worried. Hermione remained certain that Harry had not been
attacked, but they had been told not to leave him on his own in case Voldemort
made another attempt on his mind.

"Maybe we should get McGonagall or Dumbledore or someone," Hermione finally

suggested, as students began pouring out of their classrooms and towards the
Great Hall for lunch.
"Hermione, if you're sure Harry wasn't attacked, getting a teacher is the last thing
we should do," Ron told her. "You know Harry - he won't speak to us for days if
we do that, so we need to make sure it's worth it."

"But we can't find him anywhere!" Hermione exclaimed. "What if he's in some
kind of trouble?"

"Let's go in and have some lunch. If Harry doesn't show up by the end of the
hour, then we'll go get someone to help us, okay?" Ron's suggestion was
sensible, so Hermione nodded worriedly and followed Ron into the Great Hall.

They met up with Ginny, who was grumbling to a complacent-looking Luna

Lovegood about her Transfiguration homework. One look at Hermione's face, and
she left Luna to follow the two over to the Gryffindor table. As they all helped
themselves to fried chicken, Ron and Hermione filled her in on what had
happened. To Ron's great consternation, Ginny blushed when he got to the bit
about Draco Malfoy making suggestions concerning her and Harry.

"You...weren't..." Ron stammered, and Hermione and Ginny both laughed at him.

"Of course not, Ron! Harry and Ginny are only friends, and besides, she was in
class while we were looking for him," Hermione giggled, momentarily forgetting
her worry. Ron looked immensely relieved.

Harry did not show up during lunch, and after they had all eaten hurriedly,
Hermione said, "We've got thirty minutes before classes start. I think we should
go back up to the common room and look there again, and if he's not there, I'm
going to get someone. Harry can be angry if he wants, but you heard what your
mum said about not letting him be alone too much." Ron reluctantly agreed.

Ginny told the two that she needed to stop off at the library before heading to
Care of Magical Creatures, and to let her know if they found him. After they had
gone, though, she left the Great Hall alone and headed for the front doors. She
and Harry had talked quite a bit over the summer while Ron and Hermione had
spent time together, and he had told her that he liked to get outside and walk
when he was feeling troubled. She set off to the lake, guessing that Harry would
not have gone to Hagrid's, and knowing that he could not have gone into the
forest. She felt slightly guilty about not telling Ron and Hermione where she
thought he was, but she wanted to make sure she was correct first. The last thing
any of them needed was Hermione to become worried that Harry had actually left
the grounds.

***
It only took her five minutes to reach Harry's spot by the lake, as he had not
veered much from the normal path. He was sitting alone, his back up against the
trunk of a tree, staring vacantly out into the water.

"Harry?" Ginny said, approaching him hesitantly. After what Hermione had said
about his mood, she did not want to get too close. She had seen Harry's temper
before, and while she knew he wouldn't hurt her, she thought it best not to crowd
him.

"What are you doing out here, Ginny?" he asked dispassionately, the anger in his
voice gone.

"What do you think I'm doing? Looking for you!" Ginny answered with a hint of
annoyance in her voice. "You've got everyone in a right state, Harry. What in the
world made you come out here without telling anyone where you were going?"

"I think I've got a right to take a walk if I want to, Ginny," Harry said, his temper
flaring once again.

"Oh, that's what you think, is it?" Ginny answered, matching Harry's temper
easily. "You think you've got a right to have Ron and Hermione looking all over
the damn castle for you, worried sick that something's wrong? You think you've
got a right to just stalk out when no one's looking, not bothering to tell anyone?
Well, you listen to me, Harry Potter -"

"Save it, Ginny," Harry snapped. "There's nothing wrong with me. I just wanted
some time to myself for once. I don't know why that seems to be so much to ask!"

"I'll tell you why, then!" Ginny shouted, losing her temper completely. "Because
last time you were left on your own you almost died! You were too stupid to ask
for help when you needed it! Not to mention You-Know-Who trying to get into
your head at every turn! So you're just going to have to get over it, because we
are going to be spending time with you and worrying about you!"

"You think I asked for that?" Harry laughed bitterly. "And just for the record, it
wasn't Voldemort trying to get into my head this time, it was Snape."

In her tirade, Ginny missed Harry's comment about Snape completely. "Just
because you didn't ask for it doesn't mean it's not happening! And we're not
going to let you go through it alone! I can't believe how selfish you're being, by
the way. You think you're the only one affected by all this? My mum barely slept
all summer, worrying about you, and Hermione missed the rest of her holiday
with her parents, and -"

"All right, Ginny, I get the point," Harry interrupted, his anger draining away at
last. "I'm sorry, okay?" His guilt for what he was putting them all through peeked
through his temper, and even though he still thought it was unfair that she was
giving him a telling-off just for wanting to be on his own, he could see her point.

Ginny tried to calm herself, and when she spoke, it was in a more civil tone. "It's a
start, I guess. You just can't do this, Harry. I know it's unfair, but you just
can't...wait a minute," Ginny interrupted herself, Harry's comment finally piercing
through her emotions and into her mind, "did you say Snape tried to break into
your mind?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "That's why he kept me after class. He didn't even give
me a chance to react, he just dove right in. I got him out, but then we had quite a
row, and he just made me so mad, I guess I wasn't thinking..."

"Too right you weren't," Ginny muttered, but she was having a hard time staying
angry, much as she thought Harry deserved it for his attitude. "Why do you think
he attacked you?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said bitterly. "He said it was his job as a member of the
Order to make sure I was practicing my Occlumency, but sometimes I still
wonder...his lessons last year did nothing but make things worse."

"Do you think he's on our side, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"Dumbledore thinks so, and Moony is certain of it," Harry answered. "But I still
don't know why they're so sure."

Before they had any chance to discuss it further, they saw students walking
towards Hagrid's cabin for Care of Magical Creatures, and they knew that they
had to go. Ginny walked Harry right up to the doors of the castle as though she
wanted to make sure he actually went back into the castle. She told him to hurry
to class so Ron and Hermione would stop worrying, and then broke into a run
down to Hagrid's cabin, shouting a quick goodbye at him over her shoulder.

***

Harry had to hurry. As he was going into the castle, he suddenly remembered that
he had left his book bag in Snape's dungeon. He ran down the stone steps, and
slipped into the room silently, very relieved that Snape was still in his office. He
did not say a word in reply to the questioning stares from the fourth-year
Slytherin and Gryffindor students in the room, but shouldered his bag and
hurried up to the second-floor Charms classroom.

He reached Professor Flitwick's classroom only a minute before the bell rang. He
was not surprised to see Ron and Hermione waiting anxiously outside of the
classroom, but was rather surprised to see Tonks standing with them, peering up
and down the halls watchfully.
"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Where on earth have you been? I was so worried! We
looked everywhere! We thought -"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry replied. "I wasn't thinking straight. Sorry, mate," he
added, looking at Ron. His irritation flared again even as he apologized, but he
reminded himself that they were only worried about him.

"You all right, kid?" Tonks asked, looking at him closely.

"Yeah, I'm all right. Thanks, Tonks," Harry told her, embarrassed at the
commotion he had caused.

"I need to get to my class, then, but I want to talk to you after dinner. We'll go for
a walk."

Harry had a feeling he was going to find out what it was like to get a telling-off
from Tonks before he had even gone to her class, but, after what Ginny had said
to him, he felt he probably deserved it. He nodded at Tonks, and she left quickly.

Flitwick gave them a lecture at the beginning of class much like the one they had
received at the beginning of their O.W.L. year, but, as always, his lecture was not
stern, but kind, his squeaky voice congratulating all of them on passing their
O.W.L.s successfully. He assigned them a relatively simple charm for the day, a
review from the previous year, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione used the usual
noisy cover of the class to discuss what had happened.

"So, where'd you go, Harry?" Ron asked. "We looked all over the castle for you,
and no one had seen you."

"I went down to walk by the lake," Harry answered.

"Harry, you aren't supposed -" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her.

"I know, Hermione, and I'm sorry, okay? I already got a right telling-off from
Ginny, isn't that enough? I won't do it again." He sounded slightly bitter.

"From Ginny?" Ron asked bewilderedly. "When did you see Ginny?"

"She came and found me by the lake. Why? Didn't she tell you she was going to
look out there?" Harry could tell by the confused expressions on his friends'
faces that she hadn't, and he wondered why.

"She said she was going to the library," Ron said indignantly. "If she knew where
to find you, why didn't she tell us?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked with an infuriatingly superior look on her face.
"No," Ron and Harry answered together, and Hermione smiled at their thickness.
Her smile turned quickly into a frown, however, as she returned to the matter at
hand.

"Harry, what made you so angry?" she asked, needing to know the answer, but
afraid he was going to get angry again.

"Snape," Harry said simply.

"Well, no offense mate, but I think we had that one figured out already. What
happened?" Ron asked.

Harry told them all about Snape's attack on his mind and the ensuing row. When
he got to the part where he had blatantly accused Snape of being a Death Eater,
Hermione gasped, "Harry, you didn't!"

"He's got a point, Hermione. Why else would he have done what he did if he's not
reporting to You-Know-Who?" Ron said.

"I'm sure he probably wanted to see how Harry's Occlumency was going,"
Hermione countered. "Remember, Dumbledore trusts him, and he's a member of
the Order. I can't believe he surprised you like that, though, Harry," she said,
slightly more sympathetically.

"Oh, I can," Harry replied bitterly. "I'm not sure what side he's on, but whatever
side it is, there's no doubting that he hates me."

"Harry, he doesn't -"

"Come off it, Hermione," Ron interrupted. "Everyone knows Snape's had it in for
Harry since day one."

Hermione opened her mouth as though she were about to reply, but then closed it
and nodded reluctantly. Snape's and Harry's mutual animosity had been well-
known since first year.

Now that he had told his friends what had happened, Harry was more than ready
for a change of subject, so he seized upon the one topic that was sure to take the
conversation off him. "So, Ron," he began. "Now that Angelina and Alicia have
graduated, who do you reckon will be on the house team this year?"

As usual, the diversion of Quidditch worked, and although Hermione looked as

though she disapproved of the change of subject, she magnanimously allowed
Ron and Harry to carry on with discussions of the Gryffindor team for the rest of
the period.
***

N.E.W.T. Herbology did not prove to be much different than it had been in years
past, and as they left Greenhouse Five to wash the soil off of their hands before
dinner, Harry's thoughts turned to his upcoming meeting with Tonks. He didn't
know why, but he felt slightly nervous. He had never really spent much time alone
with her, unless you counted the few minutes they had spent last summer
packing Harry's things on Privet Drive, and he didn't know what to expect from
the conversation. She was usually so cheerful that it was hard to imagine her
telling anybody off, but he had also seen her fight fiercely at the Department of
Mysteries and knew that, as an Auror, there had to be a certain amount of
toughness in her personality.

He did not have long to wait. After he had eaten a large dinner, he looked up at
the teacher's table. He noticed for the first time how much younger she seemed
than the other teachers, most of whom had been at Hogwarts for a decade or
more, and she gave him a small nod, the expression on her face much more
serious than usual. He bid goodbye to his classmates and headed towards the
entrance hall. He had only waited a few moments before Tonks joined him.

"Let's just go out for a walk around the grounds," she asked him, leading the way
out the front doors. "It's a nice night, and this way we will be able to talk without
being overheard." Harry nodded.

Once they had crossed the courtyard and gone onto the grounds, Harry noticed
that Tonks' normal watchfulness increased into a state of heightened alert. She
didn't seem nervous, just careful, and Harry supposed that being constantly on
guard was probably an occupational hazard to being an Auror.

"Harry, I need you to listen to me for a bit, kid," Tonks started the conversation
once she was sure they could not be overheard. She had led him to the same
path he had taken earlier in the day, the one around the lake. "I know you hate
this, and I hate that you have to go through it, but you just can't go off on your
own like you did today. If you had stayed in the castle, that would have been one
thing, but coming out on the grounds on your own wasn't a good idea."

"I know, Tonks. I'm sorry I made everyone worry," Harry answered, finding it hard
to be irritated with the young professor in the crisp fall air, the giant squid
keeping pace with them lazily along the shallow edges of the lake.

"That's not what I mean, Harry," Tonks answered him gently. "Anyone would have
been angry after what happened this morning. We all understand that, and you
already apologized to your friends. It's forgiven and forgotten."

"How do you know about this morning?" Harry asked, confused.

"I had Ginny for Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon. I hope you don't
mind that she told me - I asked her straight out, and I am a professor now, you
know," Tonks said, sticking her nose in the air, pretending to be arrogant.

Harry felt slightly put out as he reflected that everyone seemed to always know
his business, but he pushed the feeling aside. Ginny had done nothing wrong in
answering Tonks's questions; in fact, she probably didn't feel as though she had
much of a choice, and he knew the Order would find out pretty much everything
he did this year anyway.

"Listen, Harry," Tonks began again, her voice serious. "I need you to take me
seriously when I tell you that I don't want you to be on your own outside anymore.
In fact, I would be more comfortable if you weren't on your own any more than is
needed, but I know that everyone needs some time to himself every now and
again."

"Tonks, is there something I need to know?" Harry asked her directly. "I don't
want to be kept in the dark."

"Harry, as you know, Hogwarts is one of the safest places on the planet as long
as Albus Dumbledore is headmaster. Having said that, however, this is a war, and
for some reason, you seem to be a key player in that." She stopped, unsure for a
moment how to continue, because she wasn't sure exactly why Voldemort
seemed so focused on Harry's defeat.

Harry nodded glumly, and Tonks continued after a moment. "Professor

Dumbledore has not yet found a way to counter the kind of attack that happened
at your party, the dual attack, and our biggest worry concerning you is that it will
happen again, and you must not be alone when it does. That kind of powerful
attack can have terrible consequences, for you and for the Order."

"If no one knows how to break it, though, what can they do?" Harry asked.
"Besides teaching me Occlumency, of course, and I'm already going to be
working with Professor Dumbledore on that three times a week."

"Harry, even if it cannot break the attack, having someone near you that cares for
you will go a long way in helping you fight, and it is also important to have
someone to take care of you after it ends. An attack of that nature leaves your
physical and magical reserves very low, and that means you are extremely
vulnerable to attack from the outside while you recover."

"Attack from the outside?" Harry repeated. No one had mentioned that before,
although it did make some sense.

"That was going to be my next point, Harry. Hogwarts has every ward around it
imaginable, but one of Voldemort's greatest strengths lies in his cunning. We do
not believe that he can come here personally just yet, but that is not to say that
there are not those among his followers who could without any of us being the
wiser. Many Death Eaters work as spies, and it is often impossible to tell who
they are. Harry, enjoy your time with your friends, but know who you can trust
and be careful around people, especially if they seem to take an unusual interest
in you."

Harry nodded again, feeling a little overwhelmed but also slightly stupid. He had
not even stopped to consider the possibility that there could be Death Eaters at
Hogwarts, for he could not truly believe that Snape was one, as much as he hated
the man. Yet, only a little over a year before, a professor that Harry and
Dumbledore had both trusted had turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise, and
had tried to kill Harry before Dumbledore had intervened.

"Don't beat yourself up, kid," Tonks said gently. "Just don't do a repeat of this
morning, okay?"

"All right."

"Now," Tonks said, her tone brightening back to normal. "I only just arrived
yesterday, and I haven't been here since I left school. What say you show me
around the grounds? You've got a bit before curfew, haven't you?"

Harry laughed at her sudden return to exuberance, and took her down to the
Quidditch pitch, past Hagrid's cabin and the entrance to the Forbidden Forest,
and around the Herbology greenhouses as the night grew darker and she kept
him entertained with stories from her own school days. Harry was surprised to
find that she had gone to school with the two eldest Weasley brothers, Bill and
Charlie, and he thought that Charlie sounded a lot like Ron.

Tonks walked him all the way back up to Gryffindor tower, giving the Fat Lady a
fond wave as Harry said the password, "carpe diem." When he had climbed
through the portrait hole and arrived in the common room, he settled down at the
usual table with Ron and Hermione and began work on the day's homework,
which had been considerable in all classes. Ron and Hermione were busy having
an argument over whether or not History of Magic had been a useless class
("'Those who don't know the past are doomed to repeat it,' Ronald."). They
greeted Harry cheerfully, glad that he seemed to be in a better mood.

Back to index
 Chapter 19: A Child No More by WriterLady

Chapter 19: A Child No More

Harry arrived at the Headmaster's office ten minutes early for their first
Occlumency lesson of the term. When he arrived, his bag already packed and
heavy, he stared at the stone gargoyle, realizing he did not know the password
yet.

He jumped slightly when the calm voice of Professor Dumbledore sounded

directly behind him. "Good morning, Harry. Thank you for arriving so promptly."
He turned to the stone gargoyle. "Sugar quill," he said clearly, his eyes twinkling.
The gargoyle jumped aside and the familiar rotating staircase came into view.
Harry followed the Headmaster onto the staircase, and they ascended to the
circular office in silence.

Harry was not at all surprised that there was no evidence of his tantrum at the
end of last term; in fact, he clearly remembered smashing several of the silver
instruments which stood in perfect condition on the low tables.

Dumbledore noticed Harry looking around and told him gently, "The damage to
my possessions was easily repaired, Harry. I wish I could say the same for the
damage that has been done to you."

Harry looked sharply at Dumbledore, who continued, "Ah, yes, Harry. I've wanted
to speak of this to you for some time, but the moment has not been right. Perhaps
now, if you would care to sit?" He gestured at the chairs in front of his desk, and
Harry sat, placing his bag on the ground beside him.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, "the passage from child to adult is a difficult

process, and I have observed thousands of students on this journey in my time
as a teacher and as Headmaster of this school.

"From the beginning, Harry, you have been different than any other young man I
have ever known. Your very first day as a student, you chose your friends with
more wisdom than I could have hoped for. At eleven years of age, you turned
down an offer of friendship that implied immediate power and status in favor of
loyalty to a boy you had only just come to know."

Harry was astounded. The choice between Draco Malfoy's outstretched hand and
Ron's friendship had not been difficult, but how had Dumbledore known about it?

"As I told you before, Harry, I have watched you more closely than you could
have guessed," Dumbledore said quietly. "And you have never given me reason
to be anything but proud of the man you were becoming, for Harry, even at the
times when you have made questionable decisions they have always been for the
right reasons. With only one exception, that is," he added, the twinkle in his eyes
returning for a moment. "The incident with the flying Ford Anglia was
regrettable." His eyes held no condemnation as he said this. Actually, the old
wizard appeared to be holding back a laugh.

Harry remained mute throughout this rather surprising monologue, not sure what
to make of it. How could Dumbledore seem so serious one moment, and almost
jovial the next? Even as Harry watched, the amusement died, replaced once again
by gravity, age, and a hint of sadness.

"Youth is meant to be enjoyed, to be savored. I regret that you have had few
opportunities in your life to do either, and what chance you did have was taken
from you too abruptly that night at the Department of Mysteries, the night you
witnessed your own godfather's death. Your childhood ended that night, Harry. I
have seen it in your eyes all summer, and I mourn that loss.

"I watched you come back from the very brink of your own death, and I am proud
of the man you have become, proud of the fight you are waging. You have
strength beyond anything I have ever seen, or could have ever expected, Harry.
That is how I know that when your time comes, when it is time to fulfill that
destiny which you have been handed, you will succeed."

His speech complete, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and steepled his long
fingers under his chin. He watched Harry's face closely, searching for a reaction
to all that he had said.

Harry's mind was working furiously. Was this Dumbledore's idea of a pep talk? He
did not know how Dumbledore could claim that he, Harry, had shown any kind of
strength during the holidays; Harry had never felt weaker in his life. "Professor,"
he said hesitantly, "I lost my strength when Voldemort attacked my mind. I
couldn't fight him; until you began teaching me Occlumency, I didn't even try."

"Quite the contrary, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "It is true that you were
unable to stop the attacks, but that does not mean that you did not fight them,
even if you were not aware of doing so. Why do you believe you became so ill?"

"Because Voldemort attacked me, sir," Harry answered, feeling the beginnings of
irritation. "He never let up."

"No, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him, leaning forward intently. "Even

Voldemort does not have the power to physically harm you by intruding upon
your mind. It was the fight that drained your reserves, both magical and physical.
You were not equipped to push him from your mind, but you did not make it easy
for him."
"Professor, I don't think -" Harry began, but Dumbledore interrupted him. "Why
do you believe Voldemort went through so much trouble to break into your mind,
Harry? He knew he could not kill you in that way, and it could not have been easy
for him to get past the wards surrounding Privet Drive and Grimmauld Place."

Harry did not know what to say. He had never stopped to consider why Voldemort
did what he did. When he thought about it, however, there were only two
instances he could remember in which Voldemort had entered his mind
voluntarily. The first time Voldemort had attacked his mind had been when he
planted the vision of Sirius being tortured in the Hall of Prophecy. The second
had been when he had possessed Harry in a futile attempt to get Dumbledore to
use a killing curse on him. Both of these times, Voldemort had clear purpose. But
what had his purpose been over the summer?

"He taunted me," Harry said, trying to reason through his thoughts. "He
threatened the Weasleys and Moony. He tried to get me to give in to him. But
what did he mean by 'give in?'"

"Harry, it does not stand to reason that Voldemort would expect you to physically
surrender yourself to him. He knows you would risk your own life to save your
friends, as you always have, but he also knows that you must believe them to be
in physical danger. He also knows that the Order would not let you go even if you
were inclined to do so, and he would not be so foolish as to reveal his location to
you. Can you think of anything else he might have wanted?"

Harry nodded, and sudden realization hit him. "The prophecy. He must have
known you would tell me the prophecy."

Dumbledore looked grave as he inclined his head towards Harry. "Yes," he said
simply.

"But I couldn't keep it from him!" Harry exclaimed. "He knows now! And that was
even after you had started to teach me Occlumency."

"But Harry, in order to get that information from you, Voldemort had to use an
unknown form of Legilimency which allowed the dual attack that happened on
your birthday. Even before you and I began work on your defenses, you had kept
him out of the deepest parts of your mind, where your memories were located. He
was looking for it all along, Harry, and he realized that he would have to launch a
much more powerful attack in order to find it. M ost wizards could not have kept
Voldemort out of their minds at all, even had they been trying their hardest to
block him. You were able, for a time, to keep from him that which he sought."

"What does it matter how long it took him?" Harry muttered. "He got what he
wanted."
"What matters, Harry, is that every defeat you hand Voldemort gives him one less
weapon to use against you."

"I'm sure he'll think of new ones," Harry replied. "I might as well be walking
around with a target on my back."

"Harry, when your time comes, you will not be defenseless. I promise you that.
You have the power to fulfill your destiny, and all you must do is learn to wield it."
When Harry nodded, Dumbledore continued, "Now, Harry, are you ready to get to
work?"

Only after their Occlumency practice had ended and Harry had left Dumbledore's
office did he realize that he had forgotten to ask about the additional training
Professor McGonagall had mentioned.

***

Harry was preoccupied with the things Dumbledore had told him all through his
study period, lunch, and N.E.W.T. Transfiguration. Even though he tried to work
on his Potions essay in the library, Ron tried to talk to him about Quidditch
tryouts during lunch, and Professor McGonagall reprimanded him sternly for
letting his mind wander while he was supposed to be studying the theory of
transfiguring inanimate objects into animals, he could not get the conversation
out of his mind.

You have the power to fulfill your destiny, and all you must do is learn to wield it.

What power did Dumbledore believe he had? Harry tried to understand. He

wanted to believe that he had the ability to complete his task, but he did not know
how he would ever defeat Voldemort. It just didn't seem possible.

"Harry," Hermione asked as she, Ron, and Harry walked from Transfiguration to
their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Tonks. "Is something
bothering you? You haven't been able to pay attention to anything all day."

"No, I'm fine," Harry answered semi-truthfully. "I've just got some stuff on my
mind."

"What kind of stuff?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, give it a rest," Ron told her, knowing that they would find out what
was on Harry's mind sooner if they didn't badger him.

"I am only asking, Ron!" Hermione said irritably.

"Look, I'm fine. I promise, all right? I only need some time to think," Harry said,
trying to put a stop to the ensuing argument. For a few moments, they walked in
silence.

"I wonder what classes with Tonks will be like," Hermione said with difficulty, and
Harry shot a grateful smile at her. He knew how hard it was for her to let things
go, and he appreciated it.

"Dunno," Ron answered. "I bet she's good, though. Might give Lupin a run for his
money, eh? I mean, she is an Auror and all."

"Yeah," Harry answered, "and she's a damn good dueler as well." He broke off
suddenly, realizing that the only time he had seen her duel had been at the
Department of Mysteries. Ron and Hermione looked slightly fearful, and then very
relieved when Harry did not seem too disturbed by his reference to that night. A
flicker of sadness had crossed his face, but he had recovered quickly as they
reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and quickly took seats near
the front.

Harry was quite happy to see that the N.E.W.T. class was almost entirely
comprised of D.A. members. After the intentionally poor instruction they had
received from Professor Umbridge, it was hardly surprising; students who had
not been in the D.A. had been at an extreme disadvantage in taking their Defense
Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s. As Harry sat down next to Ron, he greeted Neville
Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas cheerfully and exchanged
waves with some of the members from other houses. He frowned, however, when
Malfoy, once again without Crabbe and Goyle, took a seat with two other
Slytherins at the table right behind Harry, leaving Lavender, Parvati, and Padma
looking distinctly disappointed as they took a seat near the back.

As the bell sounded, Tonks strode to the front of the room confidently, not
bothering to order her class into silence like many of the teachers did. She simply
turned to face them, smiling pleasantly as their conversations died down and
they waited to hear what she had to say.

"Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the

Dark Arts. As you learned at the Start-of-Term Feast, my name is Professor
Tonks, and it is my task this year to begin your preparation for your Defense
Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. examinations at the end of your seventh year.

"Having said that, however, I must warn you that my focus is not to simply make
sure you pass your examination, although you should have no problem if you are
attentive in class and complete the assignments I set for you. My main purpose is
to prepare you to defend yourselves should the need arise.
"To that end, this class will include very little bookwork. I understand that your
previous professor focused entirely on theory." She paused as the class let out a
unified groan at the memory of the hours of class time they had spent the
previous year reading Defensive Magical Theory in Umbridge's class.

"While theory is an important element in the learning of magic, I'm afraid you will
not have time to consult the library should you find yourselves fighting for your
lives." At this comment, Ron and Harry could not help grinning at Hermione, who
was famous for resorting to books whenever she had a question on any topic.
Tonks continued, "Much of the fall term will be devoted to learning and practicing
shield charms as well as some of the more common jinxes and hexes and on
physical training. The spring term will consist of countering some of the more
serious Dark spells, and we will end the year by combining all of what we have
learned into a section on dueling."

Lavender raised her hand. "Yes, Miss...Brown?" Tonks asked, consulting her roll
sheet.

"Professor, what exactly do you mean by physical training?" she asked

nervously.

"I'm glad you asked that question," Tonks said cheerfully. "I am afraid that you
will find that in true dueling, it is not enough to stand in one place and cast hexes
and charms back and forth. You must also learn to be quick on your feet, to take
advantage of multiple positions, and to be able to dodge spells that are cast your
way. Your spellwork is your best weapon, but physical defense can save your life
as well."

The class spent the rest of the hour practicing the Protego shield charm, which
causes a spell to bounce back upon the attacker. Tonks taught her class in much
the same way as Harry had instructed the D.A., walking between the pairs, who
had been told to take it in turns to throw minor jinxes and try to defend
themselves using the shield. Harry, of course, had not only mastered the spell
long before, but had used it against Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of
Mysteries. He took a turn each with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, but left them to
their own devices after he had successfully used the charm against each of them.
He watched the other D.A. members critically as they practiced, noticing that
while all of them could successfully cast the charm, most of them were not quick
enough for it to do any good.

"Wotcher, Harry," whispered Tonks, coming up behind him.

"Hi, Professor," Harry replied, smiling at her. "Great lesson!"

"Thanks," Tonks replied, still whispering. "What do you think so far?"

Harry told her the truth. "Most of them learned the spell in the D.A. last year," he
said, "But I think you were right about the physical training. None of them would
stand a chance against a Death Eater."

Tonks nodded and then stepped back to the front of the room. She raised her
voice, calling for an end to the spellwork, and the class fell silent. "I am
impressed with the spellwork I see from most of you," she complimented them.
"However, your speed is far too slow. It will do you no good to be able to work the
spell if your opponent's spell is able to hit you before you complete it." Harry
distinctly heard a derisive snort from the Slytherins seated behind him, but he did
not turn.

"All right, then, homework," she said decisively, smiling at the groans from her
class. "Practice your shield charm, and as a beginning to the physical component
of your training, I would like all of you to start taking a daily run of no less than
twenty minutes. You may have your own choice whether to complete it before
breakfast or in the evening before curfew, but it is a requirement, and I will take
note of anyone who is absent without excuse. You will not be alone - I am
requiring this of my seventh-year class as well."

There were many grumbles as the class packed up their bags and headed to their
dorms to stow their books before dinner, but the overall tone of the students'
whispers was excitement. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all smiled at Tonks as they
left the room, and she gave them a slight wink in return, but did not say anything
else to indicate that she knew them better than the rest of the students. Draco
Malfoy had spilled the contents of his book bag on the floor, and she did not want
to risk revealing anything in front of any of the other students.

***

"So, Harry," Ron said as they entered the Great Hall for dinner. "Quidditch tryouts
on Saturday, okay mate?"

"Sure," Harry answered, looking forward to getting into the air again. "Let's
see...all we need is a Chaser, right?"

"Two Chasers," Ron corrected him.

"But we've already got Katie Bell and Ginny," Harry said in confusion.

"No, we've already got Katie. Ginny played Seeker last year. If she wants to
change positions, she'll have to try out like everyone else."

"You were serious when you said that?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Serious when he said what?" Seamus interrupted.

"Ginny's going to have to try out for the Quidditch team again," Harry told
Seamus and Dean, who looked a bit surprised at the news.

"She's already on the team, though," Dean commented.

"As Seeker," Ron said, starting to get irritated. "But now that Harry's back as
Seeker, she's going to have to try out if she wants to be a Chaser...I can't just give
it to her automatically because she's my sister!" He stalked away from him and
took his seat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor house table.

Harry watched Ron walk away, and then turned to Seamus and Dean, who had
rather amused expressions on their faces. "Well," Harry said, "that settles it, then.
Angelina Johnson and Oliver Wood are possessing him." The other two snorted,
and Harry left them to join Ron and Hermione.

After he had eaten his way through a large plateful of ham and vegetables, Harry
was considering going back up to the common room to finish the Wolfsbane
essay for Professor Snape's class when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned
to find several D.A. members, including Cho Chang, standing behind him.

"Hello," he greeted them, knowing already what they wanted, and getting straight
to the point. "Listen, now we've got Professor Tonks -"

"Harry, she's good, but we will only be in there three times a week," Neville said,
pointing out the same thing that he'd said on the train. "We need more practice
than that."

"Neville's right," Cho added. "If we're going to have to defend ourselves, we need
to know how to do it properly."

"Harry," Hermione said quietly, "You're a really good teacher, you know. If you
keep helping us along with Professor Tonks, we'll all be that much more ready
when it's time for us to fight."

Harry did not miss the fact that she had said "when it is time for us to fight," not
"if we have to fight," and he realized that she was probably right. It would not be
long before the war began in earnest, and no family in the world would be safe.

After considering for another moment, Harry nodded slowly. "It might be a couple
of weeks before we get started," he said. "It won't be a secret this year, and I'm
going to have to talk to Professor Dumbledore and Ton- ... er, Professor Tonks
about it. Do you all still have the fake galleons Hermione gave you last year?"

They all nodded. "All right, then," he said. "I'll use mine to let you know when our
first meeting will be."
The D.A. members began to head back to their own tables, and Cho flashed an
awkward smile at Harry, who grinned back at her. After everything that had
happened, he had quite forgotten his anger with her, but neither did he feel the
nervous butterflies in his stomach that seeing her had previously caused.

"Still fancy her, mate?" Ron asked teasingly.

"Nope," Harry answered simply. "There's nothing there now."

Ginny, who had watched the exchange between Harry and Cho with interest,
finally spoke up. "That's good," she said definitely, and Ron gaped at her.

"I agree with Ginny," Hermione said, reaching over and pushing Ron's chin up to
close his mouth. "Harry really needs someone a bit less emotional, I think."

"When you've all finished discussing my love life!" Harry said irritably, and the
conversation abruptly ended, all three of his friends looking slightly offended.
Harry got up from the table, ignoring the puddings that had just appeared. "I'm
going up to the common room," he said shortly. He was not certain why he felt so
annoyed, but he did know that discussing Cho in front of Ginny felt very awkward
for some reason.

"Harry," Ron called after him. "What about our run?"

"I'll go in the morning," Harry answered, without looking back.

"Here we go again," Ron said grumpily after Harry had left. "Why do we always
shave to bear the brunt of his temper?"

"Because there's no one else," Ginny replied simply.

"Why not Malfoy?" Ron suggested.

"Don't be stupid, Ronald," Hermione replied snappishly. "If Harry let his temper
get the best of him with Malfoy, he'd hex him into oblivion. At least we don't have
to worry about that."

***

The throne room was empty but for two black-cloaked figures, one seated on the
throne, the other kneeling at the foot of the dais. "Are the preparations in place,
Lucius?" asked the cold voice of the Dark Lord.

"Yes, My Lord," drawled the kneeling figure. "We are prepared to strike upon your
command."
"Good," replied the man upon the throne. "You are certain our information is
correct regarding the squib?"

"I am certain, My Lord."

"Then there is only one thing left to be done. I think it is high time we paid Potter
a visit. No doubt he will enjoy tonight's festivities."

"It has been far too long, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy answered maliciously, cold
anticipation lacing his voice.

"Prepare yourself, Lucius," the Dark Lord commanded, and Malfoy obediently slid
his mask over his face.

"I am ready," Lucius said, standing as the man on the throne rose to his full
height. At the slightest of nods from Voldemort, the two men Apparated
noiselessly to a dark and rather bedraggled-looking front lawn, soggy from the
September rain. Surrounding them were several other masked figures, all of
whom bowed slightly in the presence of the Dark Lord, awaiting his signal to
begin the attack.

"It is time," Voldemort hissed, "You will give Lucius and myself thirty seconds
with the boy, and then you will bring the squib to me." He raised his wand,
concentrating his considerable power on the mind of his young nemesis, and
pointed it at the Death Eater standing to his right.

"Mentis iunctum legilimens!" he intoned, and the connection was made between
master, servant, and the boy walking alone through the corridors of Hogwarts.

Back to index
 Chapter 20: The First Mark by WriterLady
Chapter 20: The First Mark

Harry knew he was going to have a long night. He had to finish the Wolfsbane
essay for Snape, and he also had another, shorter essay due in Charms. He had
barely started Snape's essay in the library during their study period, and he
already knew it was going to be incredibly difficult. Harry had yet to figure out
why a trace amount of silver, a poisonous substance to werewolves, was crucial
to Wolfsbane. His Charms essay would be much easier, but he had not even
begun it.

Harry felt slightly ashamed of himself for storming out of the Great Hall. He and
his friends regularly gossiped and teased about one another's crushes and love
interests. Why was this time any different? Against his own will, Harry's thoughts
wandered to Ginny Weasley. If he was to be completely honest with himself, the
reason the comments about Cho had bothered him so much was that Ginny had
been there. She had said it was good that he no longer had feelings for Cho, but
why had she said that?

Harry had just made up his mind to ask Hermione about it when the scar on the
forehead exploded in pain, and he yelled with all his might, remembering just as
he fell to his knees what Tonks had said about being alone when he was attacked
and afterwards. He could feel their presence before he could hear them, and he
slammed the doors of his mind and pushed against Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy
with all of his strength. "Not now," he thought furiously. "Get out!" Harry strained,
sweat running in rivulets down his face and back, using his every bit of defense
against the attack, but the force of his resistance soon began to run out.

"Ah, Potter. You have been practicing, I see. Fool! You will never defeat me."

"Get OUT!" With one last furious push, Harry used his remaining strength. The
pain in his scar was such that he was certain his head would break in two, and
the pressure in his head increased exponentially.

"Really, Potter. A little humility in the presence of your superiors, please. Ah, but
humility has never been a strength of yours, has it?" Lucius Malfoy drawled as he
and the Dark Lord felt the release of Harry's defenses dropping.

"I have something I want you to see, Potter," Voldemort said in an evil hiss. The
blackness in Harry's head receded to be replaced by dim evening light and the
yellow glow of electric streetlamps. In front of them was a small house with a
bedraggled, soggy lawn. A gray tabby cat with the same flat face and bandy legs
of Hermione's cat Crookshanks hissed at them from behind a tree, but fell where
it stood as it was hit by a streak of green light from the wand of a masked figure
standing to Voldemort's right. Harry's heart gave a jolt of fear and the pain in his
forehead increased yet again. He knew exactly where they were.
"Bring out the squib," Voldemort ordered, and two Death Eaters emerged from
the front door of the house, a terrified-looking Arabella Figg being held between
them, her eyes wild and her housecoat hanging off her small body sloppily.

"What do you want?" Mrs. Figg asked, trying to sound brave but unable to hide
the tremors in her voice.

"You have nothing to offer us, Squib," said the contemptuous voice of Bellatrix
Lestrange.

"You have been offered a chance to aid us once before," Voldemort said in a cold,
unmerciful voice. "But you failed to bring Harry Potter to us, a deed that I am sure
you realized would not go unpunished. You have been helping them hide him
from me, Squib."

Mrs. Figg opened her mouth as though about to retort, but no sound came out.
She looked up at the monstrous face of the most feared wizard in history with
terror in her eyes but also some pride. She may have been a squib, but she had
been proud to do her small part in protecting Harry Potter from the inhuman
monster now standing before her. The fear left her eyes as she glared up at
Voldemort, who spoke no more before uttering his curse.

"Crucio!" he cried, pointing his wand at the old woman as the Death Eaters
flanking her released their hold and she fell to the ground, screaming, tumbling
off the step of her front stoop. Harry could feel the immense power of the spell as
Voldemort unmercifully held his wand on Arabella Figg. What was more, he could
feel the Dark Lord's pure pleasure, his enjoyment of what he was doing.

Voldemort lifted the spell, leaving Mrs. Figg in an incoherent heap on the ground,
bleeding from where her knees had hit the rough cement of the garden path.
"Have you had a change of heart, Squib?" he sneered.

Arabella Figg did not, could not reply. She was a very old woman, and the curse
had done more damage than her body could handle. She did not move, but raised
her eyes to the Dark Lord in a final act of defiance.

Harry felt another surge of horrifying pleasure as Voldemort uttered the most
unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses. A jet of green light flared from the tip of
his wand, and Arabella Figg was no more.

The last thing Harry saw was Bellatrix Lestrange's wand pointed into the dusky
sky, and he heard the gleeful shout. "Morsmordre!"

Blackness engulfed Harry's vision once again, and grief for his batty old neighbor
surged through his entire being, giving him the power to push against the Dark
Lord and his servant once again. With every ounce of strength he could muster,
he forced Voldemort and Malfoy back out of his mind, and the last thing he felt
was the surprise in both of their minds as he finally broke the connection.

***

Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas left the Great Hall a few
minutes after Harry, having decided to take their run in the morning before
breakfast when they were not feeling so full. Most of the Gryffindors were still
enjoying their dessert, laughing and gossiping about mundane things, but Dean
had purchased a large box of pranks from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon
Alley, and the three were hoping to have the dormitory to themselves as they
looked over the merchandise. None of the three sixth-years were pranksters by
nature, but what teenaged wizard could resist the lure of nose-biting teacups,
fake wands, and skiving snackboxes?

They had just emerged from the staircase into the seventh-floor corridor when
they heard a loud shout from around the corner and the distinct thud of books
and body hitting the stone ground. Neville glanced nervously at Seamus and
Dean as they sped up, rounding the corner to find out what the commotion was
about.

To say they were shocked to see Harry on the ground in the hallway, his face
white and soaked with perspirations, his expression contorted in pain, his body
seizing, would have been an understatement. For several moments the three just
stood there, staring at their friend, terror written clearly in their eyes.

"Go get somebody, quick," Neville whispered, and made his way slowly to Harry,
kneeling next to him but not touching him, completely unsure of what he should
do.

Seamus broke into a run back to the stairwell and down to the Great Hall, where
most of the teachers were still at dinner. Dean continued to stand still, staring in
horror at Harry, who had stopped seizing and gone completely limp. Having
shared a dormitory with Harry, all three of the boys had witnessed his nightmares
the year before, but this was very different. Although they had no idea what was
happening, something was clearly very wrong.

As they waited for Seamus to return, Neville placed his hand on Harry's limp
wrist, and was extremely relieved to feel Harry's pulse pounding furiously under
the skin. For a moment he had been afraid someone had attacked Harry, who
hardly looked alive.

As Neville removed his hand from Harry's wrist, resolving to simply stay with him
until help arrived, Harry's body jerked again and his face tensed as new beads of
sweat appeared on his forehead and gleamed in the torchlight, illuminating his
scar, which had turned an angry red. The seizure only lasted for a moment this
time, and as Harry's body relaxed once again Neville was pushed rudely aside as
Professor McGonagall bent over him.

Neville watched as Professor Dumbledore joined McGonagall beside Harry, and

he heard her say, "It has happened again, hasn't it?"

"I am afraid so, Minerva," Dumbledore answered gravely, and he conjured a

narrow stretcher next to them and levitated Harry's body onto it. As he began to
slowly walk towards the hospital wing, the stretcher floating magically in front of
him, Professor McGonagall turned to Neville, Seamus, and Dean, who were
watching the scene in astonishment. Neville wondered what McGonagall had
meant when she had said it had happened again.

"Boys," she began, and her voice sounded gentler than they were used to. "Did
you see what happened?"

"We were just heading back to the common room, Professor," Seamus began,
"and we heard someone shouting. When we got here Harry was on the floor, and
he was having some kind of a fit. Neville said to get someone."

"After that, he went still," Neville continued, shivering a bit at the memory. "I
didn't know what to do."

"Mr. Longbottom, there was little you could have done," McGonagall answered
him, still in her unusually gentle voice.

"What happened, Professor?" Dean finally spoke up, his voice still horrorstruck.

"Mr. Potter will be fine," the professor responded, not answering their question,
and her tone suggested that she would not be forthcoming with any more
information. "Professor Dumbledore has taken him to the hospital wing."

Neville gulped slightly, but he asked, rather more bravely than he normally would
have done, "Professor, you said this has happened before..."

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, I am afraid it has, but I will tell you again that Mr. Potter
will recover." The three boys all nodded at her. "You three go back to your
common room. You may see Mr. Potter tomorrow."

Without another word, they all turned back towards the portrait of the Fat Lady,
not daring to question the Transfiguration teacher further. As they filed into the
common room, all thoughts of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had left their minds.
They ignored the other Gryffindors and trod silently up the stairs to the sixth-year
dormitory to discuss what they had seen.

***
Remus, Molly, Fred and George were sitting at one end of the long table in the
kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place finishing a dinner of chicken stew
when the fire in the kitchen grate burned emerald green and the stately form of
Minerva McGonagall stepped into the kitchen. None of them were overly
concerned; it was common for Order members to floo into and out of
headquarters on a regular basis, and the serious look on her face was, after all,
not so different from the serious look she usually wore.

"Good evening, Minerva," Remus greeted her as she came over to the table. "I
assume you've already eaten?" he inquired politely, knowing that she would have
already had dinner in the Great Hall with the students.

Professor McGonagall did not respond to his question but said quietly, "You are
needed at the school, Remus."

Remus looked alarmed, but before he could answer Molly broke in, "Has
something happened?"

"It appears that Harry has suffered another attack," Professor McGonagall
answered calmly, but as they peered at her, they could see the concern in her
eyes. "He was on the seventh floor corridor when it happened, and he was found
almost immediately by three other students."

"How is he now?" Remus asked quickly, standing up from the table and pulling
his cloak from a hook on the kitchen wall. "Is he awake?"

"He is in the hospital wing, of course," McGonagall answered, "but he does not
seem to be in any danger at present. He is not yet awake. The Headmaster asked
me to come for you, Remus."

His ragged cloak fastened somewhat haphazardly, Remus headed towards the
grate, Molly close on his heels. McGonagall put a hand on Molly's arm and told
her, "The Headmaster feels it would be best if Remus came alone tonight. You
will, of course, be more than welcome in the morning." Her voice was kind, but
quite firm.

"Harry needs -" Molly began furiously, but Remus interrupted her.

"Molly, I'm sorry, but I think Dumbledore is right this time. Harry will feel
smothered if he awakens to a crowd of people beside his bed. I will contact you
as soon as I know anything."

"Lupin is right, Mum," George broke in, seeing that his mother was about to insist
upon going to the castle. "Harry won't like all the attention."
Molly relented, but everyone in the room could see that she was fighting against
every motherly instinct she had. "You'll let me know how he is, Remus?" she
asked worriedly.

Remus had been about to throw glittering floo powder into the grate, but he
stopped and put his free hand on Molly's arm. "Of course I will," he told her
gently, and stepped into the grate, disappearing in a whirl of green flame. Minerva
McGonagall bid the Weasleys goodbye and followed.

Molly and her twin sons had just finished cleaning the kitchen after the small
supper, working rather faster than usual due to their anxiety, when Arthur strode
quickly into the room.

"Arthur!" Molly exclaimed in surprise. "We didn't expect you for hours! Remus is
at Hogwarts -" but she did not get a chance to finish.

"The Dark Mark has been spotted above Little Whinging," Arthur interrupted,
slightly out of breath. "I need to contact Dumbledore. Arabella Figg is dead."

Molly clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, and the twins
wore identical expressions of horror as all three realized that the attack on Harry
had not been a coincidence.

"If Dumbledore does not know yet, he will soon," Molly whispered sadly. "Harry
was attacked again tonight. You'll need to get to Hogwarts and tell Dumbledore
and Remus what has happened, and quickly. I'm afraid Harry will have seen the
whole thing."

***

Remus stepped out of the fire and into the Headmaster's office, and was not
surprised to find it empty. He headed straight for the door to the revolving
staircase as he heard Professor McGonagall arrive behind him. He stopped for a
moment as a thought occurred to him.

"Minerva, someone needs to tell Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger
what has happened, before they hear it from another student," he told her. He
knew Harry's friends would be extremely worried as soon as they had heard, and
they would need reassurances that Harry was going to be all right. He, himself,
was not willing to go to them, however. As Harry's guardian, his responsibility
was to get to the hospital wing and to be there when Harry awoke.

"I will go wait for them in the common room," she replied, knowing that Lupin
was right. Neville Longbottom really had no idea what had happened, and if
Harry's friends heard from him first, they would likely panic.
Remus nodded at her and then hurried to the hospital wing. He strode quickly to
the bed in which Harry lay, and was relieved to find that Harry was the only
occupant of the room at present. Dumbledore was speaking softly to Madam
Pomfrey in the corner, and nodded to Remus as he pulled a straight-backed chair
next to Harry's bedside.

Moony studied his sleeping charge carefully. As he always did after an attack,
Harry looked pale and drawn, and his hair was damp with perspiration. Remus
sighed. He didn't know how much more of this Harry could take. They simply had
to find out how Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy were staging their dual attacks, for
he knew this had been another one. By now, Harry could have pushed Voldemort
alone out of his mind with relative ease.

He didn't know how long he had sat beside Harry's bedside when Albus
Dumbledore finally joined him. He had seen the Headmaster leave the room for a
few minutes and return, looking, if it were possible, even graver than he had
before. He signaled Remus to join him on the other side of the room.

"Arthur Weasley has brought some terrible news, Remus," he began sadly,
sounding very old indeed. "Arabella Figg has been killed. Kingsley Shacklebolt
was on duty in Little Whinging and spoke to Arthur, who was to relieve him
tonight after he left the Ministry. The Death Eaters shot the Dark Mark into the sky
but they had all Disapparated by the time he arrived at Arabella's home from
Privet Drive."

Remus bowed his head in grief. He had not known Mrs. Figg well, but he had liked
the old woman quite a lot. He also knew that this was only Voldemort's first public
move. There would be so many, many more. He only wished Kingsley could have
gotten there in time, but his task had been to watch the Dursley's house on Privet
Drive, and the Death Eaters would not have conjured the Dark Mark until the deed
was done.

A sudden thought broke through his sadness, and Remus looked up into the eyes
of the Headmaster. "Harry saw, didn't he?"

"We will not know for certain until he wakes up, but yes, I believe that Harry saw,"
Dumbledore replied. "Arabella Figg's death and the casting of the Dark Mark
signals the beginning of the Second War. Voldemort would have wanted Harry to
see it, would have wanted to flaunt his power."

Remus nodded and sighed deeply. Now that Voldemort was aware of the full
contents of the prophecy, he would stop at nothing to break Harry Potter in any
way that he could.

Across the room Harry stirred slightly, and Remus went to him immediately. The
boy was not awake yet, but his eyes fluttered and he sighed in his sleep, curling
into the fetal ball that Moony was all too familiar with. He sat back down in the
straight-backed chair, knowing Harry would awaken soon.

The door opened softly behind him, and Minerva McGonagall came in quietly with
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny following her closely. She had tried to convince them
and then order them to stay away for the night, but they had to see with their own
eyes that Harry was going to be all right. They gathered at the end of his bed,
staring at him sadly, thinking as Remus had that the scene was all too familiar.
Everyone had known that it would happen again, but it didn't make it any easier
for most of them to understand.

Remus quietly greeted them and asked them kindly but firmly to return in the
morning. "You all know what Harry has had to go through tonight," he whispered
to them. "Madam Pomfrey has assured me that he will completely recover, and I
know he will want to see you tomorrow. For now, however, Harry needs quiet."

To Remus's surprise and relief, the three teenagers did not argue with him. They
only nodded sadly in acceptance and told him that they would come in the
morning before breakfast. "Tell Harry for us," Ginny whispered, "Tell him we love
him and we'll see him tomorrow, okay? Tell him we were here."

"I will, Ginny," Remus promised, and he watched Harry's friends walk slowly out
the door, their shoulders hunched in worry. They had far too much on their
shoulders for school-aged children, Remus knew, but Harry's burden was so
much heavier.

Harry stirred again, and this time his eyes fluttered open. He straightened, and his
hand groped around his bed for his glasses, which Remus handed to him. Harry
turned, startled, but relaxed when he saw the familiar face of his guardian smiling
gently at him.

"How do you feel, Harry?" Remus asked his standard question, and Harry knew
better by now than to tell Moony that he was fine.

"Mrs. Figg is dead," he stated quietly.

"Yes," Remus answered.

"He tortured her...used Cruciatus...she fell off her stoop...and then he killed her!"
Harry said, his voice growing louder and angrier as he became more aware and
the events of the attack rushed back into his consciousness. By now,
Dumbledore had come to Harry's other side, listening intently as Harry recounted
exactly what had happened.
Harry looked up at Remus, tears filling his green eyes even as fury took over his
expression. "She never did anything to him, Moony. She never fought him. The
only thing she ever did was to have me over for tea, and he killed her for it."

It was Dumbledore who answered Harry this time. "That is not the only thing she
ever did," he stated quietly.

Harry stared at him blankly. He had known that Mrs. Figg had been watching him
his entire life with the Dursleys, but she was not even capable of performing
magic. What could she possibly have done to Voldemort to warrant her murder?

"The fact that she was a Squib was enough reason in and of itself for Voldemort's
attack. had she not been involved with the Order, her attack most likely would
have simply been another act of the Death Eaters and not Voldemort himself.
They prey upon the weak, Harry, Muggles and Squibs as well as unsuspecting
members of the Wizarding community who have never done anything more than
try to live their own lives in peace," Dumbledore continued.

"But why did Voldemort kill her himself? Why did he want me to see it?" Harry
asked, and then he remembered something that the Dark Lord had said to Mrs.
Figg. "Wait a minute. While he was attacking her, Voldemort said that she had
been offered a chance to aid him before."

Dumbledore nodded. "After your hearing at the Ministry, it became a well-known

fact that there was an old Squib near your home on Privet Drive, and, although
she never said specifically that she was watching you, that fact was assumed by
many, including Lucius Malfoy, who had been told the details of the hearing by
none other than Cornelius Fudge himself."

Harry swore softly and then looked up at the Headmaster, who pretended he
hadn't heard and continued, "Shortly after that, Lucius Malfoy went to the home
of Arabella Figg and made her an offer - if she would reveal your whereabouts
and lure you out of your home during the following holiday, Voldemort would
grant her the magical power that she had always yearned for."

"Can he do that?" Harry asked.

"I do not believe that he can," Dumbledore said. "Magic is an ancient trait which
must reside in the witch or wizard from the time that they are born. It cannot be
forced into someone who does not have that gift."

"Did Mrs. Figg know that?" Harry asked, trying to make sense of what he was
hearing.

"It does not matter," Dumbledore replied. "Arabella Figg would never have done
anything to harm you, and I believe she made that quite clear to Mr. Malfoy during
his visit. Surprisingly, he left without another word, and we have been afraid that
something of this nature would happen."

"Then why didn't you protect her?" Harry asked, beginning to feel angry again.
"Why didn't you do something?"

"Arabella's home has been surrounded by powerful wards ever since Lucius
Malfoy's visit," Remus broke in, "and the guard watching your aunt and uncle's
house was also assigned to watch her. We stationed two guards when it was
possible, but it was not always something that we could manage."

"How did he get past the wards?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore's frown
deepened.

"I do not know the answer to that question, Harry. It is something I would quite
like to know myself," he said sadly, and turned to Lupin. "Remus, it is becoming
clear to me that our source of information has been compromised in some way
and also that it is quite possible that we have a spy in our midst. We must be very
careful."

"I have to stop him," Harry said suddenly, his voice more fierce than either of the
two older men had ever heard. "I have to stop him now, before more innocent
people get killed."

Remus looked at him sharply. "Harry, you are not ready for that fight."

"And I'm supposed to just sit back and watch other people die while I just
continue on with my lessons, am I?" Harry retorted angrily.

"If you fight before your time, Harry, the consequences will be grave. With your
defeat, Voldemort will have broken through the only barrier to his immortality,"
Dumbledore said calmly. "I understand how you are feeling, but your time has not
yet come."

Harry knew this was true, but he could not help feeling that any more attacks
would be his responsibility. If the prophecy was correct, and he was the only one
with the power to vanquish Voldemort, more innocent people would certainly die
for every day that Harry delayed.

"Then get me ready," he said quietly, with a hard edge to his determined voice.
"Tell me what I have to do."

Dumbledore studied him carefully. There was a furious light in Harry's eyes now,
one that he had not seen before. Harry was becoming proactive, no longer willing
to wait for something to happen to him before he acted. The sudden change in his
student was disturbing to the old Headmaster, even if he knew it was necessary.
"Before we do anything else," Remus replied, "you have to get some rest from
this attack, Harry. You have to recover."

"Recover from what?" Harry asked. "I'm not sick, I'm not hurt. I used a lot of
energy pushing them out, but -"

"Harry?" Dumbledore interrupted. "Did you say 'pushing them out?'"

Harry nodded. "I couldn't do it until the end though, until after...after she was
dead."

Remus leaned forward intently. "Are you certain that you pushed them out and
that the attack did not simply end after Arabella's death?"

"Of course I am," Harry said indignantly. "They were surprised that I could do it.
They weren't ready to go yet."

"How do you know they were surprised, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I felt it, the same way I have always felt Voldemort's emotions," Harry answered.
Why was this such a big deal?

"Harry, this is an incredible accomplishment," Dumbledore said. Remus nodded

in agreement, pride gleaming in his eyes even through the sadness.

"What's so great about it?" Harry asked bitterly. "It didn't do anything to save
Mrs. Figg. If I had been able to get them out earlier -"

"Voldemort still would have killed Arabella Figg," Dumbledore interrupted him
clearly. "Harry, there was nothing you could have done, and the fact that you
were able to push both Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy out of your mind at all is
quite amazing, especially considering that we have not yet managed to find out
how they are accomplishing this."

"After only a few weeks of Occlumency training with Professor Dumbledore, you
have mastered it to a higher level than most wizards ever do," Remus added.

"I still need to learn more," Harry told them firmly, and he finally remembered to
ask Dumbledore about the special training McGonagall had mentioned. "Sir,
Professor McGonagall mentioned other training you wanted me to start on."

"Yes, Harry, I believe you are ready," Dumbledore told him gravely.

"The Unforgivables?" Harry asked bluntly.

"No," Dumbledore replied. "I do not believe you would ever be able to cast a
Killing Curse, Harry. Understand that this is not a question of power, it is a
question of feeling."

Harry must have looked confused, because Remus explained, "Think about the
amount of positive energy it takes to perform the Patronus Charm. That is why it
is so hard for many wizards to conjure - it takes an incredible strength of will to
call upon such great positive power when faced with the most negative of beings,
creatures whose existence depends solely upon depriving others of happiness."

Harry nodded. Although he had been proud of his ability to conjure a Patronus in
his third year, it was not something he thought much about anymore.

"The Unforgivable curses work in much the same way," Dumbledore said,
"especially the killing curse. They take extreme power of will, but the emotion
behind them is precisely the opposite of that which is required by the Patronus.
To master the Unforgivable curses, Harry, you must be able to harness hatred
powerful enough that it can end another's life. You were unable to do this in the
Department of Mysteries after Sirius was taken from you, and I must say that it is
my hope that you will never possess the amount of hatred required for those
spells."

"Then how will I do it?" Harry asked directly, looking straight into the
Headmaster's eyes. "If not the killing curse, then how?" He wondered but did not
dare to ask whether Dumbledore was able to cast them. He wasn't sure he wanted
to know.

"There are many ways of destroying a man, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I promise
you that when your time comes, you will be ready."

"Then what is the special training you are going to be giving me?" Harry asked.

"We will still be working on your Occlumency skills, Harry, although as Remus
has said, you have mastered it beyond any expectations. We will also be
progressing into Legilimency, and we will expand upon your defense and dueling
training."

"Legilimency?" Remus asked sharply. He had not heard this part of the plan, and
he was not at all certain that he approved of it.

"You want me to spy on Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore answered quickly, silencing Remus with a glance. "To
use Legilimency in such a way would be incredibly dangerous, and it is not a risk
that we are willing to take. I do, however, believe that mastery of Legilimency will
be one of your greatest assets when the time comes for you to battle Voldemort."
"If Harry uses Legilimency against Voldemort, he will be more vulnerable than he
ever has been, Albus," Remus argued vehemently, almost forgetting that Harry
was in the room.

"And I will repeat, Remus, that Harry will not use this skill until he is ready,"
Dumbledore insisted. "But it is a necessary part of his training."

Harry was annoyed that the two men were now discussing him as if he were not
there. "Moony," he said firmly, "if that is what I have to do, then it is what I am
going to do." His tone left no question to his determination.

"I will be happy to discuss this with you further, Remus," Dumbledore said, a note
of finality in his voice, "but this is not the time, nor the place."

Almost as if Madam Pomfrey had been waiting for Dumbledore to say those
words, she bustled out of her office. The Headmaster had insisted that she allow
them to talk to Potter when he woke up, but she felt as though they'd had quite
enough time with her patient for the night. She walked past Dumbledore and bent
over the side of the bed opposite Lupin and examined Harry closely.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said immediately.

"I'll be the one to say when you are 'fine,' Mr. Potter," the nurse said firmly.
"Honestly, with the amount of time you have spent in my care, I would think you
would know that by now."

Dumbledore chuckled softly, and she rounded on him. "Headmaster, I have given
you the time you requested, and now I must insist that you both leave Potter to
his rest."

Dumbledore nodded at her, told Harry he would return the next day, and left the
room to go back to his office. Remus, however, made no move to get up from the
chair beside Harry's bed.

"You too, Lupin," Madam Pomfrey told him.

"No," Remus said firmly. "I will allow Harry to have his rest, but I am his guardian,
and I will be staying with him tonight."

"Moony, you don't have to," Harry began, once again feeling that strange mixture
of annoyance with the protectiveness of his guardian and the desire to spend
more time with him. "Go back to Grimmauld Place."

"Sorry, Harry," Moony said, guessing correctly that no matter how annoyed Harry
felt with the attention, he was happy to have someone near who cared about him.
"I'm staying here, at least until tomorrow. We'll talk about it more then."
Madam Pomfrey huffed her displeasure, but because Lupin was Potter's guardian
and held all the authority of a parent, she had no choice but to allow him to stay.
She poured a large quantity of purple potion into a goblet for Harry and set it on
his bedside table, warning him that if he was not asleep within five minutes she
would insist that Remus leave. Harry obediently drank the potion. Within minutes,
was in a peaceful, deep sleep, his magical and physical reserves replenishing
themselves so that when he woke up, he felt quite normal once again.

***

When Harry put his glasses on the next morning, sunlight was streaming into the
hospital wing from the eastern windows, and he was not surprised to find that
Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had joined Lupin by his bedside. He
smiled sleepily at all of them as they turned their attention towards him.

"Harry, dear, how are you?" Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously, bending to hug him.
"I've been so worried."

"Fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered her, returning the hug. "I feel fine."

"We should have gone after you," Hermione said worriedly. "We should have
been there. We should -"

"Hermione," Harry said firmly. "You can't be with me every moment, and you
wouldn't have been able to change anything that happened anyway." As he said
this, the memory of Mrs. Figg's horrible death resurfaced, and he turned his head
away from them for a moment, willing himself to control his emotions.

"We know about Mrs. Figg, Harry," Ginny said quietly to the back of his head. She
reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "We're all so sorry."

He turned back to them, some of the same determination he had shown the night
before now evident on his face. "He won't stop there," he said fiercely.

"We know, mate," Ron spoke up for the first time, but beyond that, he did not
know what else to say.

Harry had been about to say more, but he remembered that the Weasleys and
Hermione did not yet know about the prophecy, and he was not quite ready to tell
them. He cast about for a change of subject, and he noticed a large pile of candy
and an odd package on his bedside table.

"What's all this?" he asked, indicating the gifts.

"Fred and George sent it all," Ron replied. "They thought you could do with some
sweets, as it is a well-known fact that Madam Pomfrey doesn't serve pudding with
the meals up here. I don't know what this is," he continued as he picked up the
small, narrow package. There was a note attached to it.

Dear Harry,

Don't open this in front of Mum.

Cheers,

Fred and George

Harry grinned slightly and slid the package underneath his covers discreetly, glad
that Molly was distracted with filling his water jug at the moment. He showed the
note to his friends, and they all grinned and made Harry promise that he would
tell them what the twins had sent next time they visited.

They talked for a few more minutes when Hermione suddenly looked at her watch
and gasped. "We've missed breakfast!" she exclaimed. "And we've only got five
minutes to class! Harry, do you want me to turn in your Potions essay for you?"

Ron gaped at her. "Hermione, Harry's in hospital! Surely you don't expect him to
have done homework last night?"

"Ron, I'm sure Harry already finished it," Hermione said, and then looked at Harry.
"You have, haven't you?"

"Er - " Harry said, uncomfortably aware of Mrs. Weasley and Hermione looking at
him sternly, and Ginny and Ron trying not to laugh.

Hermione sighed but said reluctantly, "Well, I suppose that Harry has had quite a
lot happen this week, but I hope you two aren't planning on leaving your
homework so late all year!"

Harry suddenly grinned at her. It was so typical of Hermione to be worried about

homework, even with everything else that was going on.

"Ron, Ginny, Hermione, you had best be getting to class," Molly said, ushering
them all to the door. They all waved back at Harry as they went their separate
ways, walking very quickly to avoid being late. Molly followed them with the idea
of getting Harry's breakfast.

"Harry, how are you feeling this morning?" Lupin asked, speaking for the first
time from the straight-backed chair, where he had been dozing uncomfortably.
"I feel fine, Moony. When can I leave?" He knew that word would have spread fast
that he was in the hospital wing already this year, and he was not looking forward
to the jeers Draco Malfoy was sure to send his way.

Remus smiled slightly. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep you through the
weekend - "

"No way!" Harry interrupted. "I don't need to be here that long, I feel fine,
honestly, better than I have ever felt after an attack!"

"That in and of itself proves how much stronger your Occlumency shield has
become, Harry," Remus replied. "Now, as I was saying, Madam Pomfrey wants
you to stay here through the weekend, but I have convinced her to allow you to
leave tomorrow morning if she is satisfied that you have recovered."

"Are you sure that is not too soon, Remus?" Molly asked worriedly, handing
Harry a plate of kippers from the Great Hall and setting his glass of water beside
his bed. She had come in just in time to hear Remus's last comment. "Doesn't he
need more rest? Last time -"

"Last time was different, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly. "This time, they were
not as much attacking my mind as forcing me to come into theirs, and I was able
to fight them off in the end."

"Yes, dear, and we are all very proud of you," Mrs. Weasley said, patting his
cheek, "but you need some time to recover and some good rest."

"I don't have time to lie around," Harry told her firmly. "I need to get back to my
classes and get back to my training."

Remus wisely broke in then, sensing that this was about to escalate into an
argument. "Let's just see what Madam Pomfrey has to say, all right? In the
meantime, I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore about some things," he said,
sensing that Harry needed some time to himself. "Molly, why don't you come with
me while Harry eats his breakfast? We should all probably discuss some Order
business."

Harry knew that the "Order business" they were planning on discussing probably
concerned him, and as irritating as he found that fact, he was glad that it meant
he could eat his breakfast in relative peace. Mrs. Figg's murder had ignited a
spark in him that was more than just grief, more than just anger - Harry could not
quite name what it made him feel, but he wanted some time to try to sort it out.

Throughout the morning, Harry had visits from Professors McGonagall and
Tonks, each of whom only stayed for a few minutes, Arthur Weasley, who flooed
in on his way to the site of more anti-Muggle pranks, and Neville, Seamus and
Dean on their way to the library for their study period. All of these visits went as
expected, although the one with his classmates was rather awkward at first. After
a few moments, however, their conversation veered into discussions of Fred and
George's shop and the box of pranks Dean had brought.

"That reminds me," said Harry, checking to make sure Mrs. Weasley hadn't come
back before taking his package out from under his covers. He opened it and
laughed as a long, flesh-colored string fell into his lap.

"What's that, Harry?" Dean wondered.

"One of Fred and George's inventions. Extendable Ears!" He explained how they
worked, and the other boys were very impressed and disappointed when Harry
told them they were not being sold in the shop for security reasons.

After the boys left, it was another hour before Harry's most surprising visitor of
the day came through the door. Molly and Remus had been in and out, but Harry
stared as the door opened and Ginny Weasley walked in on her own, right about
the time lunch would have been beginning in the Great Hall.

"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You already saw
that I'm okay. Go on to lunch; I've already had mine."

"Oh, I told them that I had to revise for Transfiguration," she said, blushing
slightly. She sat down on the side of Harry's bed. "I just wanted to come in and
see you, to tell you..." she trailed off.

"To tell me what?" Harry said, suddenly very aware of the softness of her skin as
she took his hand in both of her small ones.

"It's just that after what happened last night, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am
for the things I said to you by the lake on Monday. I can't even begin to imagine
what you've been going through. Having to see what you've seen..."

"Ginny, you don't have to apologize," Harry told her sincerely.

"No, I do," Ginny interrupted. "I'd go mad if I were you, always having people
following me around, especially considering everything you have to deal with."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm going mad," Harry admitted, and he realized that it was
something he could only say to her. Somehow, over the course of the summer,
she had become a person that he could talk to about how he felt without being
embarrassed.
Ginny leaned forward and brushed Harry's fringe back from his face, and Harry's
gaze moved into her deep brown eyes. Without really considering what he was
about to do, he gently pulled her to him and kissed her.

End Notes:

And with this, we have reached the halfway point of The Greatest Power.  I hope
you continue to enjoy it!

Back to index
 Chapter 21: Old Fires, New Flames by WriterLady
Chapter 21: Old Fires, New Flames

"You had no authorization to do what you did, Severus," Remus said, struggling
to remain calm as he faced the Potions master. Tonks had told him what had
happened on the first day of classes, and his first visit after he had gone to talk to
Dumbledore had been to the dungeons.

"I had every right, as a member of the Order, to check on Potter's progress,"
Snape said smoothly. "I must admit the boy has improved, although his insolence
still knows no boundaries."

"What did you expect after you attacked him like that?" Remus asked coldly. "It
was the first day of classes, Severus! Harry wasn't expecting -"

"And you think the Dark Lord will wait until Potter is expecting an attack from
him?" Snape interrupted.

"That does not give you the right to attack him!" Remus was beginning to show
signs of his temper. "Nobody told you to do that, and had you asked Dumbledore
would have forbidden it!"

"And how do you know I did not talk to the Headmaster about this, Lupin?"

Remus stopped. It seemed impossible to think that Dumbledore would have given
permission for Snape to attack Harry, especially on the first day of term when
Harry needed to be concentrating on his new classes and spending time with his
friends. He thought for a moment, and then said in a low voice, "Let me just say
this, Severus, and listen carefully, for I will not repeat myself. Harry needs to be
able to trust the adults around him right now. Yes, Severus, even you," he added,
because it looked as though Snape was about to interrupt. "You are to treat Harry
as you treat the rest of your students. You are not to attack him. If Dumbledore
feels it is necessary to test his skills in that way, I will be the one to do it. Not
you."

"I will not have you coming into my office and ordering me about, Lupin. My
decisions regarding my students are mine to make," Snape bit back.

"You will find that you are wrong there," Lupin said. He leaned forward so that his
face was inches from Snape's nose. "I am Harry's guardian. As such, I will not be
allowing any more mistreatment of him, especially by you." He stopped for a
moment, took a deep breath, and decided to try to reason with the man in front of
him, a man that so obviously still harbored a deep grudge for events that had
happened years ago.
"Let go of your hate, Severus. James and Sirius are both dead," he said bluntly,
choking a bit on his words. "Harry is not responsible for the actions of his father
and his godfather. Do you not see what the boy is being put through? The last
thing he needs is to be suspicious of those of us he should trust the most."

"Black is dead and many others could have died because Potter didn't bother to
master Occlumency last year. I, for one, do not want to be the next fatality caused
by his inability to take instruction and his conviction that he knows more than the
rest of us."

Remus's eyes hardened and his face went white with fury as he pulled his wand
out of his pocket and pointed it straight at the throat of the Potions Master.
"Never, ever say anything like that again, Snape," he snarled, looking somewhat
more like a werewolf than he usually did. "If you hurt Harry again, not one of your
precious potions will be enough to repair the damage I will do to you." Remus
turned quickly and exited the dungeons before he lost his temper entirely.

***

Madam Pomfrey released Harry from the hospital wing before breakfast on
Thursday morning, admonishing him to take it easy and advising him to miss
Quidditch tryouts the following evening.

"Miss Quidditch tryouts?" Harry said incredulously.

"Potter, while you have recovered remarkably quickly this time, you must not
push yourself," Madam Pomfrey warned in her no-nonsense voice. "Professor
McGonagall informs me that you have already secured a place on the team, so
why take the risk?"

"I'm not missing Quidditch," Harry said stubbornly. He had been looking forward
to Quidditch all week, especially since Ron had been made Captain.

Madam Pomfrey looked to Lupin, who was just pulling on his traveling cloak, for
help, but he only shrugged. "As long as Harry promises to stop if he gets tired,"
he said reasonably, "I don't see why we should keep him from playing." He knew
that Harry needed the release that he got from flying much more than he needed
additional rest.

Harry shot Moony a grateful look, and Madam Pomfrey scowled. Seeing that
Harry was dressed and everything seemed to be in order, she bustled back to her
office, mumbling under her breath.

Moony grinned. "She's always been like that," he said. "I remember one time
when James was in here after taking a Bludger to his shoulder, she told him that
he should rethink whether or not he should play Quidditch at all - he was always
getting injured at the games."

"Why'd he get hurt so much?" Harry asked interestedly. He had known, of course,
that his father had been a Chaser on Gryffindor's house team when he had been
at school, but aside fr om that, he didn't know much.

The two walked out of the hospital wing and towards the Great Hall. Remus
smiled reminiscently. "Well, you see, Harry, James had the unfortunate habit of
drawing attention to himself during the games. He could never resist stunting on
his broom, especially when he knew your mother was in the stands, but even so,
he scored more than any other Chaser at school. I'm afraid the Beaters from all of
the other house teams found him rather irritating."

"Did Mum like that?" Harry asked.

"Well, no," Remus admitted, "at least not for the first few years. Once they started
dating in their seventh year, I think she thought it was rather entertaining
although she would never have admitted it."

"What made her decide to go out with him?" Harry asked. This had been on his
mind a lot ever since the rather sudden kiss between him and Ginny the previous
day. She had not been back to see him since, and he wondered if he had done
something wrong.

"James toned down his arrogance quite a bit as he got older," Remus answered.
"When Lily first found out that he was going to be Head Boy while she was Head
Girl, she was furious, but they actually got on very well. Their first date was the
first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, and they were inseparable after that."

They reached doors to the Great Hall, and Remus pulled Harry into a short, one-
armed hug. "Your training starts on Monday, Harry. Work hard, and write me if
you need anything at all, all right?"

"All right, Moony," Harry answered, waving as Remus crossed the Entrance Hall
and left the castle. Harry turned and entered the Great Hall, pointedly ignoring
Malfoy, who called out loudly, "Have a good stay in the hospital wing, Potter?"

"Oi! Harry, over here, mate!" Ron called from the end of the Gryffindor table,
where he had been eating breakfast with Hermione, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, and
Neville. Harry grinned at his friends and walked quickly to them. Ginny blushed
as she smiled at him, and quickly moved over so that he would have room to sit
next to her.

"How are you, Harry?" Hermione asked as Harry began piling scrambled eggs
and toast on his plate.
"I'm fine," he answered. "Looking forward to Quidditch tomorrow. Any of you lot
trying out for the team?"

Ginny nodded. "I'm still trying out for Chaser," she said as if everyone at the table
didn't already know that.

"I think I might try out for the other Chaser position," Seamus mused. "I got a new
broom for my birthday, a Cleansweep 11."

"That's what I have," Ron answered. "It's a good broom, mate. Are you any
good?"

Seamus shrugged. "I'm okay," he said modestly.

"We'll see tomorrow then, won't we?" Ron told him, unconsciously puffing his
chest out a bit. Harry rolled his eyes, careful to keep his face averted so Ron
wouldn't see him.

"Harry, did you finish Professor Snape's essay?" Hermione asked. "We've got
another one for Monday."

Harry nodded. He had finished it the night before in the hospital wing after
Hermione had brought him a pile of books from the library. Moony had helped
him a little bit, but as Moony, by his own admission, was not a master potions
maker, he had not been much use. Harry didn't know how good his essay was,
but at least it was done. "I've got to take it down to Snape sometime before lunch
today," he said.

"Tonks told me to tell you that she expects to see you tonight for the evening
run," Ron said, his mouth full of bacon.

"But Harry's just got out of hospital!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Tonks is right," Harry said shortly. "It's important. I'll be there, but after this I'll
probably run in the mornings."

"I'm going with you lot," Ginny said, and they all looked at her in surprise. She
hadn't gone on any of the runs so far this week, and as a fifth year, she wasn't
required to.

"Why would you want to do that if you don't have to, Ginny?" Ron asked.

"Just because I'm not in N.E.W.T. classes yet doesn't mean I won't have to fight,"
she said simply, and Harry nodded. She smiled at him and continued, "Besides, it
won't hurt me to be in better shape for Quidditch, would it?"
"You know, that's a good point," Ron mused. "Maybe I'll have everyone on the
team do that. It couldn't hurt." Everyone at the table groaned.

As the discussion turned once more to the upcoming Quidditch tryouts, Ginny
waited until everyone was distracted and tentatively took Harry's hand under the
table. "Are you really feeling okay, Harry?" she asked softly.

"I really am, Ginny. I'm just ready to start training," Harry answered.

"More Occlumency?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered, but he was starting to realize that he could not keep his
secret for much longer. His friends were going to wonder what he was getting up
to and why he was required to complete extra training.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Hermione, who was sitting next to
Ginny and had noticed that their attention was no longer on the conversation.
She happened to glance down, and a huge grin spread across her face when she
saw their entwined hands. She said nothing, however. Ron would find out when
Harry and Ginny were ready to tell him.

***

During dinner on the night of Quidditch tryouts, Harry couldn't help but notice
that there were many more brooms propped up against the table than he would
have expected. He counted at least fifteen besides those of the regular team
members. He wondered if people realized that there were only two positions to be
filled and that one of those was almost certain to go to Ginny.

"All right, everyone," Ron called. "Tryouts begin in half an hour. You lot that are
already on the team, let's get to the pitch and get warmed up. I want us in top
form, so we can see how any new players will fit in." Harry noticed how much
more confident Ron's voice sounded than it usually did, and he reflected yet
again on what a good choice McGonagall had made for Captain.

Harry grabbed his Firebolt and followed Ron down to the pitch eagerly. He
couldn't wait to get into the air again. As he pulled on his scarlet robes for the
first time of the season, he grinned to himself. The weather was perfect - clear
and cool with just the slightest breeze - and it seemed to him that his Firebolt was
humming with the same anticipation that he felt.

The team proceeded onto the pitch and at Ron's whistle, kicked hard off the
ground and soared upwards, flying in close formation as they passed the Quaffle
back and forth in warm-up. After about fifteen minutes, Ron noticed that the
house-team hopefuls were looking up at them from the ground, brooms in hand.
He blew the whistle, calling his team to surround him in the air.
Harry's cheeks were flushed with excitement; his troubles seemed so far away
when he was flying, and the exhilaration of zooming up and down the pitch made
him feel more alive than he had in a long time. He slowed down as he joined his
four teammates, who were hovering in a bunch about twenty feet off the ground.

"Right," Ron said. "We've got quite a lot of people trying out this year, so I think
we're going to play them two at a time - I'll alternate them in and out to see how
they work with each other as well as with the rest of you. I'll be taking the
Keeper's position, of course, and I want you, Sloper, to release one of the
Bludgers on my whistle. Harry, since we're not trying out any Seekers, I'm not
going to release the Snitch." Harry nodded - it was growing darker outside, and
while there would be quite enough light to put the Chasers through their paces,
the Snitch could easily get lost. Ron continued, "I want you to fly defensively,
Harry and Kirke - try and take the Quaffle from the Chaser hopefuls, and don't go
easy on them." Harry grinned at Andrew Kirke, one of the beaters that had
replaced Fred and George last year, and they both nodded their understanding to
Ron.

"All right then," Ron said, "Let's get started." The team floated slowly down to the
field to a spot in front of the queue of hopefuls. Harry noticed that Ginny was at
the front of the line, followed by Seamus, Colin Creevey, and an assortment of
third through fifth years.

"Okay," Ron called after he had taken the names of the hopefuls down. "Team,
get in the air. Weasley and Creevey, you're up first. Join Katie Bell at center field.
On my whistle...three, two, one..." Ron blew his whistle hard and soared through
the air to the three hoops at the end of the pitch.

Ginny and Katie Bell passed the Quaffle expertly between one another, but Colin
seemed to be too nervous to get a good grip on it, dropping it twice so that Harry
and Andrew had to go into steep dives to catch it. After one of these dives, Harry
passed the Quaffle back to Katie, who passed it to Ginny as she swerved to avoid
a bludger. Harry grinned and flattened himself to his broom, speeding straight
towards Ginny. Ginny saw him coming and seemed to panic for a moment,
deciding to pass the ball to Katie, which was the wrong move. Harry intercepted it
easily.

"You'll pay for that, Potter!" Ginny screamed, and he noticed that there seemed to
be some real anger in her voice. Harry didn't answer, but passed the Quaffle back
to Katie. Ginny did not allow for another interception throughout the whole tryout,
even after she had switched back and forth with several of the other hopefuls.
Harry was impressed - he had known that she was a good Seeker, but to see her
play Chaser was to see her in her true element.
It took an hour and a half to try everyone out to Ron's satisfaction. He sent the
hopefuls into the stands while he conferred with his team on the ground in the
middle of the pitch. "What do you guys reckon?" he asked them all.

Katie spoke up immediately. "Ginny Weasley was by far the best," she said
definitely.

"Yeah, she was good," Ron conceded, and Harry could tell that he was glad Katie
had spoken first, as Ron did not want to be accused of favoritism. "OK, so
Ginny's on. Who else?"

"Seamus had some good moves," Harry pondered. "But he let go of the Quaffle
pretty easily. Andrew and I both got him at least once."

"What about Meg Jackson?" Jack suggested. "She seemed to be pretty good, and
she dodged that bludger and still managed to hold onto the Quaffle." Meg
Jackson was a petite fourth year who Harry didn't know very well. She was rather
plain and seemed a bit shy, but she had flown well that day.

"Yeah, she was all right," Harry agreed.

"Creevey was a disaster," Ron said. "He's got a lot of spirit, but we need more
skill than that, so he's out."

"How about Ginny and Meg, then?" Katie suggested.

"Agreed, team?" Ron asked. They all nodded, and Ron strode quickly over to the
stands where the hopefuls were waiting and flew up to their level. "Right," he
called. "The new Gryffindor chasers are Ginny Weasley and Meg Jackson. Thank
you to everyone that came out. Ginny and Meg, come on out to the pitch and join
the team."

Harry couldn't help but notice that Seamus shot Ron a look that was pure poison
as he exited the stands with the others who had not made the team. He pushed it
out of his mind, however, when Ginny came running up to him, throwing her arms
around his neck.

"Congratulations, Ginny!" Harry said, picking her up and whirling her around.
"You had to know that you'd get it, though. You flew brilliantly tonight."

Ginny blushed as they stopped whirling, and for a moment Harry thought it was
because of the compliment he had given her, but then he turned and saw Ron
staring at the pair of them, a strange expression on his face. Harry released Ginny
quickly and felt heat come into his own cheeks as well.
Ron didn't look at either one of them directly as he quickly went through the
training schedule for the month before their first match against Slytherin in
October. When the team had disbanded and the original members had gone to
the locker room to change out of their team robes, Ron was strangely silent, and
Harry waited until everyone else had gone before he approached him.

"Ron?" he asked. He wondered if his best friend was upset at the apparent
affection between him and Ginny.

Ron finally looked at Harry, his expression serious but not angry. "Harry," he
asked. "Is there something I should know about with you and Ginny? I saw you
talking yesterday at breakfast, and then you both stayed up late in the common
room last night..." his voice trailed off.

"Well," Harry said, trying to figure out how to put it. "I don't really know, exactly."

"Come off it, Harry, I can tell you fancy her," Ron said bluntly. "And we all know
she's liked you since her first year."

"I really like her, Ron," Harry admitted. "I'm not sure what's happening, though.
When you and Hermione got together this summer, Ginny and I spent a lot of time
together."

"This has been going on since the holidays?" Ron asked incredulously, as if term
had not just started.

"No," Harry quickly corrected him. "No, it started on Wednesday when I was in
the hospital wing, and I'm not sure what's going on yet."

Ron finally smiled at him. "Well, it's not like we didn't all know this was going to
happen," he said, and then his expression became serious again. "Look, though,
there's just one thing I have to say."

Harry was a bit worried. It was not like Ron to be quite this serious. "What,
mate?" he asked.

"Best friend or no, if you hurt her, it's the last thing you'll ever do," Ron said
grimly, but then he grinned at Harry. "So you'd best watch yourself."

"I will," Harry said, relieved that Ron seemed to be taking everything in stride.

Both boys shouldered their brooms and began the trek back up to the school.
When they were about halfway there, Ron stopped. "Er, Harry?" he asked. "What
happened while you were in the hospital wing?"
Harry only smiled. He wasn't quite ready to share that experience with anyone.
Upon seeing the look on Harry's face, Ron groaned. "Never mind, I don't want to
know," he said, and Harry jabbed him in the ribs.

"So," Ron said, eager to get the subject off of Harry and Ginny now that he had
said what he needed to say, "Sloper and Kirke are better this year, eh?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "They must have practiced over the summer or something.
Sloper didn't miss the Bludger once, and Kirke was actually pretty good at
intercepting the Quaffle from the Chasers. His reflexes have gotten better."

"Got a pretty good team this year, haven't we?" Ron said with some pride, and
they discussed Gryffindor's hopes for the Quidditch Cup for the third year
running as they headed back up to the common room.

As they climbed through the portrait hole they were greeted by the noise of the
Gryffindors as they excitedly discussed the new team. The consensus seemed to
be that Ginny had been an obvious pick, but everyone seemed to be surprised
that Meg had made the team. Very few people had ever actually noticed her
before, as she seemed to prefer to do her homework in the library and go to bed
early.

One person, in particular, was less than thrilled. Seamus Finnegan said very little,
but kept shooting angry glances towards Ron as he got ready for bed in the dorm
much later that night.

"Seamus?" Ron asked tentatively. "Look, mate, it was nothing personal..."

"Nothing personal!" Seamus scoffed. "You chose that fourth year over me!"

"Look, as Captain, I can't play favorites!" Ron said, hoping to make Seamus
understand. "She flew better than you did tonight."

"Didn't have any problems playing favorites when you chose your sister, did
you?" Seamus retorted.

"Ginny's a good flier," Dean commented quietly.

"Damn right she's a good flier," Ron said, the tips of his ears beginning to glow
red. "And I'll have you know that Katie Bell was the first person who suggested
her!"

"Oh, I'm sure you were only too happy to agree with her," Seamus growled. "I bet
you did. Didn't he, Harry?"

"We all did, Seamus. Ginny was the best out there tonight," Harry replied calmly.
"Yeah, take his part, Potter," Seamus retorted bitterly. "I've seen you and his
sister together lately. How could she not make it, with her brother as Captain and
her boyfriend as Seeker?"

"That had nothing to do with it, Finnegan," Ron yelled, finally losing his temper
completely. "Look, I'm sorry you didn't make the team, but I had to choose the
best we had, and tonight that was Ginny and Meg!"

Seamus didn't reply, but jerked the hangings around his bed closed so that he
was hidden from the rest of them. They could all hear his angry mutters as he got
under the covers.

Despite the fact that he was worried about Seamus's anger with Ron, Harry
couldn't help but smile a little as he pulled his own hangings and settled down
into his familiar four-poster. Seamus had said he was Ginny's boyfriend, and even
though Harry knew that they hadn't really gotten to that stage yet, he liked the
sound of the word.

***

He was soaring through a stormy sky, his hair ripping backwards in the fierce
wind, his glasses spattered with rain. He couldn't see the Snitch anywhere, and
he was far above the game.Morsmordre!" The Dark Mark, glittering a sinister
green, erupted right in front of his eyes.

"Come on, kiddo, you can do better than this!" A voice punctuated by a familiar,
bark-like laugh echoed clearly through the roaring wind, and Harry turned his
head to find Sirius Black, his godfather, flying next to him, his long hair blowing
wildly around his face.

Harry laughed, accepting the implied challenge, and leaned forward onto his
broomstick, speeding up. Sirius easily kept pace with him, taunting him playfully
as he searched for the Snitch.

Suddenly, a bolt of green lightning ripped from the clouds and struck Sirius
squarely on the chest. With a look of surprise on his face, Sirius tumbled off his
broom and was swallowed by the murky grayness of the clouds.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled with all his might, but it was no good. Sirius's broom fell
after him, and before Harry even had a chance to absorb what had happened,
Ginny had caught up to him, grinning, her red hair tied back into a long ponytail.

"Catch me if you can, Harry! A kiss to the winner!" she laughed as she sped
ahead of him. Without even meaning to, Harry caught up to her, but before he
could say anything else, another bolt of green lightning hit Ginny full in the face,
and she, too, fell into the swirling grayness, her mouth open in a silent scream.
"No!" Harry yelled, and he dropped into a steep dive. He could catch her. He had
to catch her.

His dive was blocked by Ron, who looked angry. "Slytherin's ahead 70-40, Harry.
Why haven't you caught - "

He was unable to continue as a third bolt of lightning hit him in the stomach, and
he gasped as he and his broom dropped out of sight.

"Ron!" he yelled as his broom stopped. He watched with horror as the sky went
from gray to black, and suddenly, from all around him, he heard the dreaded
incantation, "

"Harry! Wake up, mate!" Ron's sleepy but panicked voice edged its way into
Harry's mind, and he sat bolt upright in his bed, looking at the blurry face of his
best friend, who was standing right above him.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked quickly. "What's happened?"

Seeing Ron right in front of him had the effect of reassuring him that his friends
were all fine, that it had just been a nightmare, not a vision. He wasn't ready to
talk about it yet, however. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just a bad dream. Sorry for
waking you up."

"You sure?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Harry answered. "Go back to bed, Ron."

Ron looked suspiciously at Harry for a moment, but went slowly back to his bed
and climbed in. Ten minutes later, his deep snores told Harry that Ron had gone
back to sleep.

Harry knew that he would not sleep any more that night, so he went down to the
common room to sit in front of the fire and think. He knew his dream had been
nothing more than a dream, born of his fear of losing his friends. As Harry stared
into the embers that remained from the evening's fire, he felt, instead of the usual
despair, a firm resolve blossoming in his chest. His eyes hardened as he looked
into the grate.

"It will not happen," he said out loud. "I will stop this."

Back to index
 Chapter 22: Trials, Triumphs, and Training by WriterLady
Chapter 22: Trials, Triumphs and Training

Hermione chattered away about Silencing Potions as she and Harry headed down
to Snape's dungeon for Potions on Monday morning. "Really," she said. "It can't
be harder than Wolfsbane, can it?"

"Not much could be," Harry answered truthfully. "How did the rest of the class do
on that potion?"

"Oh, Professor Snape was in quite a temper on Wednesday," Hermione said

darkly. "You should have heard him going on. He said that none of our potions
would so much as begin to prevent the mind transformation of a werewolf."

"Even yours?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "He didn't mention it when he was ranting at the
class, but I got an 'E' on mine. He said it hadn't given off enough steam."

Harry snorted. "I bet he just couldn't stand to give you an 'O' on the first day of
term, Hermione."

"I'm certain I made it correctly," Hermione said. "Still, though, he's the professor,
isn't he? And we know he's an expert at the potion because he makes it for
Professor Lupin every full moon."

"Come off it, Hermione," Harry said automatically. He didn't know why she
continued to defend Snape. He, for one, was certain that Snape would find any
excuse possible to mark down either one of them.

As they reached Snape's dungeon, someone grabbed Harry's arm from behind.
As he spun around, wand at the ready, he was not surprised to see the pale face
of Draco Malfoy, glaring at him maliciously, a snide grin on his face.

"So, Potter," he breathed. "It's too bad about the Squib. Did you enjoy the show?"

Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm and jerked it away from Harry with enough force
to make both of them stumble. "Get away from us, Malfoy," she said fiercely.

"I wasn't talking to you, Mudblood," he retorted, and turned back to Harry, who
was still trying to work out exactly how Draco knew about what he had seen on
Tuesday. "So Dumbledore has been teaching you Occlumency, Potter? What a
waste of time. The Dark Lord will always be more powerful than a stupid half-
blood like you could ever be. He will take you whenever he chooses."
"Oh he will, will he?" Harry responded, nonplussed. "How come he hasn't done it,
then? Still here, aren't I? And did your dad's old mate ever bother to tell you that
he's a half-blood himself?"

Draco looked a bit surprised at this comment, and the snide grin disappeared to
be replaced by a look of deepest loathing. "You don't know what you're talking
about, Potter," he spat. "Dumbledore won't be around to help you forever. After
the old fool is gone, your days will be numbered. Power, indeed. You will never
triumph over the Dark Lord." He stalked past them and through the open door of
the Potions classroom.

Harry started a bit at Malfoy's final remark. It seemed impossible to think that
Draco Malfoy would know the prophecy. Then again, Malfoy always seemed to get
information from his father. Had Lucius Malfoy told him? Harry realized once
again that the time was drawing closer for him to talk to his friends about the
prophecy. He didn't want them to hear about it from anyone but him.

Predictably, Snape ignored Harry all the way through the Potions lesson just as
he always did after they had a confrontation, pretending to look across the room
at Pansy Parkinson's potion as he handed Harry a small bottle containing last
week's sample marked with a very small, almost indistinguishable 'E'. It was
probably a good thing for Harry and Hermione that Snape had focused his
attention elsewhere. His mind still reeling about just how much Draco Malfoy
knew, Harry did not pay much attention to his potion, and Hermione kept
desperately muttering corrections at him as she worked on her own, which, as
usual, looked just like it was supposed to.

Even with Hermione's help, by the end of the period Harry's potion did not look
any better than Neville's would have, had he still been in the class. Instead of a
translucent opal color, Harry's potion was dark purple and smelled like the
lavatory on Privet Drive after Dudley had taken his turn. Sighing, Harry put a
small amount of the potion in a vial, hoping he would be able to at least get some
points for the attempt, and took it to Snape's desk. The Potions master did not
speak to Harry at all, but looked from the purple liquid and then back up at Harry
with a malicious light in his eyes. Harry knew then that he might as well not have
bothered turning it in - he would not be getting any points for it whatsoever.

"What happened in there, Harry?" Hermione asked as they were walking towards
the library to meet Ron for the study period. "You did so well last time. You were
hardly paying attention today."

Harry thought for a moment, and then decided to be as truthful as possible. "It
was Malfoy," he answered.

"Honestly, Harry, you can't let him get to you like that," Hermione sighed. "It's
been the same since first year."
"This wasn't the same, Hermione," Harry said. "Didn't you hear him ask me if I
'enjoyed the show?'"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Yes, but..." A look of comprehension came across

her face. She couldn't believe that she hadn't caught it before, but she had been
so worried that Harry was going to lose his temper and hex Malfoy right in front
of Snape's classroom. "How did he know you saw it? No one told anyone what
happened - even Neville, Seamus, and Dean didn't know."

"I know," Harry said. "I guess his father must have told him...unless..."

"Unless what, Harry?"

"What if Malfoy is really one of them now?" Harry asked, his words tumbling out
quickly.

"One of them?" Hermione asked. "You mean a Death Eater? Harry, no

way...Draco's still in school, he'd never be. Not yet. His father must have told him
about the attack."

"I guess," Harry replied, unconvinced. He had the uneasy feeling as they sat
down next to Ron and took out their books that Hermione might, for once, be
wrong.

***

That night in the common room, Harry was playing a half-hearted game of chess
with Ron, his mind really on tomorrow's session with Dumbledore, when he felt a
soft tap on his shoulder. Starting slightly, he looked behind him to find Ginny, a
troubled expression on her face.

"Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.

"Er, sure, Ginny," Harry said, ignoring Ron's teasing grin as he forfeited the
match. "You want to take a walk? We've got an hour until curfew."

She finally smiled at him. "That sounds good," she answered, and her grin
widened as Harry took her hand to lead her to the portrait hole.

"Oi, you two!" Ron called after them. "Mind that all you do is walk!"

Ginny rounded on him. "Honestly, Ron. Just because you can't stop planning
your next snog-fest with Hermione doesn't mean that the rest of us have our
minds in the gutter!"
Ron's ears turned bright red - she had responded loudly enough that the whole
common room was now hooting with laughter. Ron tried to pretend he didn't hear
them as he hastily put away the chess set and stalked up the stairs to the boys'
dormitory. Harry and Ginny chuckled as they turned and climbed through the
portrait hole.

Once they were a fair distance down the corridor, Ginny squeezed Harry's hand
and asked, "I just wanted to know...is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Harry answered in confusion. This was not what he had
expected.

"It's just that you've barely looked at me all weekend. I was just wondering if
maybe you regretted what happened in the hospital wing."

Harry stopped short. "Why?" he asked quickly. "Do you?"

"No!" she exclaimed, and then blushed as she tried to make her voice sound
normal. "It's just that...well...I thought maybe we would spend some time together
this weekend, but all you did was work on your homework. Even at Quidditch
practice you barely spoke to me."

"Oh," Harry said, wracking his brain for the right thing to say. "No, it's just
that...er...I guess I was a bit preoccupied this weekend. Trying to catch up from
the classes I missed while I was in the hospital wing," he added unconvincingly.

"Don't give me that, Harry Potter," Ginny said, pulling her hand away from his.
"I've known you longer than five minutes, you know. If you don't want to tell me
what's going on, fine, but don't lie to me." Harry was more than a little confused
at Ginny's abrupt change in attitude until she said tartly, "If you don't want to be
with me, just tell me that. Don't try to make up excuses."

So that was what she was on about! Harry almost laughed, but then remembered
the consequences he had faced last time he had laughed at a girl he liked. He had
ended sitting in Madam Puddifoot's alone with cold, confetti-filled coffee in front
of him, being stared at by every happy couple in the place. "Ginny, trust me, it's
not that," he said, trying to take her hand again, but she pulled away.

"Then what?" she asked boldly.

Once again, he decided to be truthful. It's not like she wouldn't find out about it if
she asked Ron, and he knew she would if he didn't answer her. "I had a nightmare
on Friday night. About Sirius," he said, not telling her that she and Ron had also
been part of it. He didn't want to frighten her; he knew it had only been a
nightmare. "I guess I was a little tired after that. I didn't get much sleep."
Her expression softened, and she reached forward and took his hand. As they
continued down the hall, she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't really want to talk about it at all, but he was afraid he
would offend her if he refused, so he said, "It wasn't much different than the ones
I had all summer."

"About Sirius going through the veil?" she asked. She and Harry had talked a
little bit about his nightmares over the last part of the summer. He nodded. That
was close enough to the truth.

"Maybe you should ask Madam Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep Potion, Harry,"
Ginny said kindly. If Ron or Hermione had suggested this, Harry would have been
irritated, but for some reason it didn't bother him when Ginny said it, maybe
because she didn't tend to hover quite as badly as his other friends.

"I don't get them that often anymore," Harry said honestly. "I'm okay, really. So,
what do you want to do over the weekend?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ginny said as they reached a dead end of the deserted
corridor. "Maybe...this." She boldly pulled Harry's arm to bring him closer to her,
and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

This kiss was nothing like the one in the hospital wing. That one had been very
soft, almost tentative. This time, as Ginny pressed her lips onto his, Harry felt as
though his entire body was on fire, and for a moment, he was completely still.
Then, almost as if he had been planning this the entire time, he bent his head into
the kiss and wrapped his arms around Ginny. It was so different from kissing
Cho. For one thing, Ginny wasn't crying, but for another, it just somehow felt so
much more natural, so much more right.

The kiss finally broke off, and Harry and Ginny grinned at one another.

"Wow," Ginny said, leaning her head on his chest.

"Yeah," Harry responded, sure Ginny could feel his heart pounding into her ear,
and then he grinned even more widely, remembering yet another mishap with
Cho that he was not eager to repeat. "So...you want to go to Hogsmeade with
me?" he asked her.

"Er...okay..." Ginny answered, "But the first Hogsmeade weekend hasn't even
been announced yet, Harry. I hope you're not planning on ignoring me until then."

For an answer, Harry once again bent his head down to kiss her. Ginny didn't
know it, and Harry didn't even consciously realize it, but she had given him
something tonight that no one else could have. She had given him another
reason to fight.

***

"You fool." The contemptuous voice of Lord Voldemort, dripping with

displeasure, echoed through the small dungeon chamber. Draco bowed his head
and tried not to tremble. He had heard the Dark Lord speak in this tone before,
and it had shortly been followed by the worst pain Draco had ever felt in his life.

"I apologize, My Lord," he said softly, hoping to appease Voldemort's wrath.

"Your father told me you were dependable," Voldemort hissed. "Perhaps you are
just a child after all. I have no patience for idiot children, young Malfoy."

"It will not happen again," Draco said.

"Is that all you have to say?" asked Voldemort in a low, dangerous voice.
"Because of your stupidity, our plan could be revealed. Did I not tell you that no
one was to know of your mission at Hogwarts?"

"You did, My Lord."

"And were you not instructed to observe Potter, but not to allow him to find out
what you were doing?" Voldemort continued, his voice growing even more
menacing.

"Yes, My Lord, but..."

"Silence! I have no patience for Death Eaters who risk their missions. You will be
punished for this, Malfoy, and you will see that nothing of this sort happens
again."

Draco did not respond, so determined was he not to show his fear. A moment
later, he knew that the Dark Lord had gone, and he stood up shakily, smoothing
out his robes. It was quite late at night, but he knew he would get very little sleep.

As he walked back to the Slytherin common room, Draco wondered who had told
Voldemort about his confrontation with Potter. Whoever it had been was going to
pay.

***

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived from their morning run, hot and sweaty,
about halfway through breakfast. The post owls arrived just as Harry was
contemplating skipping breakfast to have a shower.
"We've got to get up earlier," he said to the others as the owls flew overhead,
delivering messages and parcels to various students.

To Harry's great surprise, one of the school barn owls dropped a small scroll into
his orange juice before flying off. Before he had time to wipe the parchment off
and open it, however, he was distracted by a loud gasp from Hermione, which
was soon echoed by quite a few other students in the Hall. The reason became
apparent as Hermione spread her copy of the Daily Prophet open on the table in
front of her.

Dementors of Azkaban Join You-Know-Who:

Mass Escape of Known Death Eaters

Early Tuesday morning, September 10, the Dementors that previously guarded
Azkaban prison resigned their positions with the Ministry, leaving the prison
fortress unguarded. Ministry insiders inform us that it is believed that the
Dementors have joined You-Know-Who.

Upon the public revelation of You-Know-Who's return in early June, the Ministry
informed the public that the Dementors had indeed joined You-Know-Who. That
report, however, was recanted three days later when Minister for Magic Cornelius
Fudge announced that the report of their disloyalty had been in error and that the
creatures remained in the Ministry's employ. Now that the Dementors have
vanished from Azkaban Fortress, members of the Wizarding community are
demanding answers.

"There must have been some truth to the Ministry's original report that the
Dementors had revolted," said an angry-looking Florean Fortescue, of Number
89, Diagon Alley. "I do not understand why the Ministry did not expel the
Dementors the moment their loyalty was questioned. I, for one, will be writing a
letter to the Wizengamot demanding Cornelius Fudge's immediate expulsion from
the office of Minister for Magic."

This reporter cannot help but be reminded of the escape of ten notorious Death
Eaters from Azkaban earlier this very year. The Minister for Magic insisted at that
time that the Death Eaters had been aided by murderer Sirius Black, the only
wizard previously known to have escaped the prison. Black's whereabouts are
currently unknown, but it is clear that he alone could not have orchestrated the
mass revolt of the Dementors. Only He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could have
accomplished this.

Among the escaped prisoners is one Lucius Malfoy, a formerly prominent

member of the Wizarding community found to be a Death Eater following the
attack on the Ministry of Magic in June. It is believed that Malfoy is one of You-
Know-Who's greatest supporters. His whereabouts are currently unknown, but
 the ministry has placed a guard around Malfoy Manor, his family's estate.
Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's wife, was unavailable for comment.

For more information and a complete list of names of the escaped Death Eaters,
please see page 2a. For tips on fighting Dementors, please see page 29c.

Harry looked up from the papers, fury written clearly on his face. It was not the
report of the revolt that infuriated him; everyone in the Order had suspected from
the dual attacks on Harry that the Dementors had already joined Voldemort,
despite what the Ministry claimed. It was the slur on Sirius and the fact that the
reporter had called him a murderer, that made his blood boil in anger.

Ginny seemed to know exactly what had angered Harry so much. "His name
hasn't been cleared," she said sadly. "Did no one tell them how he died?"

"It wouldn't have mattered if they had," Harry said bitterly. "Fudge lost too much
credibility when he had to admit that Voldemort had come back. He wasn't about
to admit he was wrong about anything else, was he?"

"I suppose not," Hermione sighed. "Still, it's not right."

"No, it's not," Harry said furiously. "Sirius died fighting those Death Eaters that
everyone is so afraid of, and they still talk like he is one of them! It all fits right
into Voldemort's hand, doesn't it? Fudge was so eager to make himself look good
in the Daily Prophet that be bought the bit about the Dementors not having joined
Voldemort without batting an eye." Harry swore loudly, causing Professor
McGonagall to glare at him from the teacher's table and Hermione to elbow him in
his side.

"Fudge is so valuable to Voldemort's side that he might as well be a Death Eater

himself," Hermione said bitterly.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" asked Neville, who had apparently been
listening to the entire exchange.

"What I mean is that if the Ministry were being run efficiently by someone who
actually cared about doing the right thing, it would be much harder for Voldemort
to take over, wouldn't it?"

"Hermione, would you stop saying that name?" Ron whispered loudly, his face
pale, and she ignored him.

"For example, if we had a Minister for Magic that wasn't so afraid of the political
fallout, the world would have known that Voldemort returned an entire year ago,
wouldn't they? There is no better way to destabilize a stable society than to elect
a leader who cares more for politics and policies than for people, and more for
his own reputation than for doing his job." Hermione took a deep breath. "That's
what I mean, Neville, when I say that Fudge is as valuable to Voldemort as any
one of his Death Eaters."

Everyone at the table stared at Hermione for a moment, their mouths slightly
agape. It was apparent that most of them had never actually considered how
much Fudge's idiocy had actually helped Voldemort's cause. You did not have to
be a Death Eater to open the doors of the world to evil; you simply had to be one
person who did not care.

"Harry, what's that?" Ron asked, pointing to the soggy parchment still lying by
Harry's plate of uneaten toast.

"Oh," Harry said, having forgotten all about the note. "One of the school owls
brought it to me. Just a minute." He opened the parchment and scanned it
quickly. "It's from Hagrid," he said, showing them the short note. "He wants me to
have tea tonight after classes. He wants to meet me up here, though. Doesn't
want me to walk down alone." Harry scowled slightly at this. Hagrid's hut was not
far from the castle, and it would still be light outside. He was perfectly entitled to
walk down there on his own.

"We've got Quidditch at six," Ron said immediately.

"I could go straight to the pitch from Hagrid's," Harry said. "I'll take my Firebolt,
okay?"

"I wonder why he only sent this to you?" Hermione asked, seeming a little put
out. "I haven't seen him yet either. Ron and Ginny are the only ones who have his
class this term."

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. The truth was, he was glad he would get a bit of time
away from the others. Their constant attention was smothering at times, and he
wondered if he would ever be left alone. Especially after the attack on the
seventh-floor corridor, it seemed unlikely.

"You have prefect duty tonight anyway. We'll go see him tomorrow, Hermione,"
Ron said, squeezing her hand. "Neither of us have prefect duty then."

Hermione nodded, but Harry could tell her feelings were still a bit hurt. He
wondered why Hagrid had asked to visit with him, and not the others. He didn't
have much time to ponder it, though, because he noticed that the Great Hall was
starting to empty. Morning classes started in ten minutes, and he was due in
Professor Dumbledore's office. He and Ginny left the Great Hall together, hand in
hand as was their new habit, as the Headmaster's office was not far out of the
way to her first class.
When they reached the stone gargoyle, Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss, muttered,
"Merlin, I love that I can do that," and watched her walk back down the hall,
marveling at their new relationship. It just seemed so obvious - why had they not
gotten together sooner?

Just as Harry was about to say the password, he heard Dumbledore's distinctive
chuckle as he came towards his office from the opposite direction. Harry's back
had been to him and he flushed with embarrassment as he turned.

"Ah, no need to be embarrassed, Harry," Dumbledore said in an amused voice,

correctly reading Harry's expression. "To find happiness with one another in
these dark times is a great gift, and one that should not be wasted. Miss Weasley
is a fine young woman."

"Er..." Harry stammered, not really knowing how to respond to this. He

overcompensated by turning to the gargoyle and saying "Sugar Quill" in an
unnecessarily loud voice. The gargoyle jumped aside to reveal the familiar
staircase, and Dumbledore followed him, still chuckling, onto it.

They were only halfway up the staircase when Harry felt the gentle tickle that was
Dumbledore's presence in his mind. He automatically put up his defenses and
pushed the Headmaster out with ease. This time, Dumbledore had not even been
able to get past the outer walls of Harry's mental fortress.

"That was excellent, Harry," Professor Dumbledore congratulated him as they

walked into the circular office.

"You're pretty easy, now," Harry said without thinking, and then flushed again.
How could he have said that to Dumbledore, of all people?

"Am I, now?" Dumbledore asked lightly, and immediately Harry felt a strong push
into his mind that caused him to stumble slightly. He put up his defenses again,
but this time, he felt the powerful presence of the Headmaster pushing back. They
struggled like this for quite some time, and although Harry was not aware of it,
any outsider would have been able to feel the palpable, raw power emanating
from both of them, Headmaster and student. The air crackled with magical
energy.

Harry could feel Dumbledore's power increasing as he pushed hard to get past
Harry's defenses. Harry's forehead beaded with sweat, but he was determined not
to break.

Dumbledore lifted the attack after what seemed like an eternity, and Harry
dropped his bag and collapsed into one of the comfortable chairs in front of
Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore, who actually looked a bit tired from the effort,
walked slowly behind his desk and sat down, surveying Harry with some
surprise.

"Harry, I am quite frankly amazed," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Why?" Harry asked in surprise. "I didn't get you out, did I?"

"You did not have to 'get me out,' Harry, for I never got in. I simply continued
trying. I had no access to your thoughts," Dumbledore answered. "Although," he
added, his eyes regaining their twinkle, "from what I saw this morning, I am quite
sure of what I would have found had I succeeded."

Harry blushed once again. He didn't know what to say.

"Truly remarkable," Dumbledore said quietly, seeming more as though he was

speaking to himself, and then he spoke directly to Harry. "I must be honest with
you, Harry. Few fully-grown wizards have ever been able to hold me off for that
long when I was insistent upon entrance, and certainly never a student."

"If you had kept going, I wouldn't have been able to hold you off," Harry said
honestly. "Near the end, it was very hard to keep pushing."

Dumbledore nodded. "This is one of the reasons we will be progressing into

Legilimency. It will allow you not only to keep your defenses up, but to go on the
offensive as well. A person has no chance of breaking into your mind if you are
able to break into his, instead."

Dumbledore noticed that Harry was very sweaty, partly from the exertion he had
exhibited as he fought the Headmaster, and partly still from his run before
breakfast.

"How about a nice cup of pumpkin juice before we continue?" he asked. "I could
use one myself." He waved his wand and a small tray appeared on his desk
containing two empty goblets and a large pitcher of pumpkin juice. Dumbledore
poured some juice into each goblet and stood to hand one of them to Harry.

As they drank, Dumbledore broached a subject that he needed to talk to Harry

about. "Tell me about what happened with Professor Snape, Harry."

Harry was not surprised that the Headmaster knew of the confrontation. He only
wondered who, exactly, had told him. It was more than a little bit infuriating that
everyone around him seemed insistent upon knowing his every move, but Harry
tried hard not to show his annoyance to Dumbledore. He took a gulp of his juice
before he answered bluntly, but as calmly as possible, "Snape attacked me, sir."

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him. "Please continue."

"I pushed him out within a few seconds," Harry said, but he did not say any more.
He did not know if Dumbledore knew the things he had said to Snape after the
attack, and if he did not, Harry wasn't going to be the one to tell him.

"And you were angry," Dumbledore prodded, and Harry's heart sank. It appeared
that Dumbledore knew the entire story.

"Yeah, I got a little angry," Harry muttered. Thankfully, Dumbledore did not
require Harry to elaborate.

"It is quite understandable, Harry, given the relationship between yourself and
Professor Snape," Dumbledore remarked. "Having said that, however, you must
learn to keep your emotions, especially the negative ones, under tighter control.
Voldemort feeds on such emotions as hate and anger, and you will not be able to
fight him if those are your weapons.

"I will repeat one more time that I trust Severus Snape, although I do not blame
you for your doubts. Severus himself has proven over and over in your case that
powerful grudges are difficult to overcome. I do not require you to like Professor
Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said, and looked at Harry with just a bit of sternness
on his face, "but I do require you to treat him with respect. I know you do not fully
understand, but please believe me when I say that he has earned it."

Harry swallowed his objections and nodded, knowing that he could never
respect, much less trust, Severus Snape. Once again left without anything to say,
he drained the rest of his pumpkin juice and set the goblet down on the edge of
Dumbledore's desk, not knowing where else to put it. Another wave of
Dumbledore's wand, and the goblet vanished. Harry suspected that it had
reappeared in the kitchens along with the other goblet, the pitcher, and the tray,
and that at least one house-elf was now busily attending to the clean-up.

"Now," Dumbledore said. "You and I will begin our work on Legilimency this
morning. I have also arranged for Kingsley Shacklebolt to work with you on your
dueling skills on Friday afternoons, beginning this week. Between the lessons
you are receiving from Professor Tonks and the lessons you will receive from Mr.
Shacklebolt, I believe you will progress rather quickly."

Harry was slightly taken aback. Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the highest-ranking
Aurors at the Ministry of Magic, was going to teach him dueling? Although Harry
knew that these lessons would most likely be extremely difficult, he began
immediately to look forward to them.

Dumbledore smiled at the obvious anticipation on the boy's face, but brought him
back to the present with the kind inquiry, "Are you ready to begin your
Legilimency training, Harry?"
Harry moved his focus back onto the Headmaster, who was gazing at him
through his half-moon spectacles. He nodded.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "Now, Harry, certain events have led me to believe
that you have some natural Legilimency skills, most likely forged of the
connection between yourself and Voldemort, although your mother had a decent
grasp of the art herself."

Harry bit his lip. He would much rather believe that any skill he had came from his
mother, but he knew that it was more likely that it was yet another effect of the
transfer of power that had occurred during Voldemort's failed attack on him when
he was a baby. No! Harry thought vehemently. I got it from Mum, not from him.

Dumbledore easily read the distress on Harry's face and said gently, "Remember,
Harry, that it is our choices, not our powers or abilities, which define us. It does
not matter from what source this power came. What matters is the use to which
you put your skill."

Harry nodded with difficulty and said, "Anytime I've ever managed to get into
Voldemort's mind, it has been completely unconscious on my part. I don't know
how to do it on purpose."

"That is why we will be practicing, Harry," Dumbledore responded, and began his
instruction. "In its most basic form, Legilimency begins in the eyes, and it is at
this point that we will be making our beginning. You will be learning to perform
your Legilimency wandlessly, as the spell will be much harder to block if you can
accomplish it without your wand." He removed his half-moon spectacles and
leaned forward.

"Focus on my eyes," he told Harry. "Imagine my pupils as a portal into my mind.

The energy you must exert is similar to that you have used when defending
yourself using Occlumency, only this time, the push is meant to propel you from
my eyes into my thoughts."

Harry nodded, deep in concentration now. It was highly disconcerting to be

gazing so intently into the Headmaster's blue eyes.

"I would like to see what you can do at this moment, Harry. I will not be resisting
you at this time. We will progress into that later."

Harry nodded and focused his attention onto the inky black pupils amidst the sea
of blue. He imagined himself crawling into them as though they were a pipe, and
he pushed his mind forward tentatively, afraid of what he would find at the other
end. At this point, Dumbledore interrupted him, saying, "Do not be afraid, Harry.
Push your fear back and be bold! You will not hurt me."
Harry focused once again, and it only took a few seconds before scenes from
Dumbledore's memories flashed before his own eyes.

An eleven-year-old Harry nervously approached the stool on which the Sorting

Hat sat...a twelve-year-old Harry entered Dumbledore's office victoriously, Ginny
Weasley right behind him...a thirteen-year-old Harry proudly clutched the
Quidditch Cup in his hands...a fourteen-year-old Harry emerged from the lake,
having successfully rescued both Ron and Gabrielle Delacour...a fifteen-year-old
Harry taught a roomful of students how to raise a shield charm...

At this point, Harry felt a slight push back, and he knew it was time for him to go.
He released his concentration, and he found himself slightly winded and staring
into Dumbledore's face.

"You have now seen yourself through my eyes, Harry, and have made a
successful start at your Legilimency training. You have done very well, and I
believe we will leave it here for today. We will pick this up in our lesson on
Thursday. You have quite a bit of time before lunch, Harry, and I would
recommend that you rest. You have exerted more energy today than I would have
imagined possible."

Harry nodded, although truthfully, what he wanted more than anything was a hot
shower to soothe his aching muscles and relax his spirit. At least with the
dormitories deserted, he would be able to take his time.

***

"How was Hagrid's?" Ginny asked after she and Harry had changed out of their
Quidditch robes and were heading back up to the school with the rest of the
team.

Harry shook his head. "It was fine," he answered, "but I can't believe he actually
used the summer holiday to go back to that mountain to try to find a 'lady friend'
for Grawp. He's lucky he wasn't killed."

"Hagrid went back to the giants?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "How thick could he
be?"

"You know Hagrid," Harry answered simply, and Ron and Ginny both nodded.
They all knew that Hagrid had a knack for finding and adopting the strangest
creatures in creation. His half-brother Grawp, a full-blooded giant who now lived
in the Forbidden Forest, was no exception, and Harry had hoped that Hagrid
would abandon his plan of finding a girlfriend for Grawp. The last thing anyone
needed was a whole family of giants taking up residence on the edge of the
school grounds.
"Why didn't Hagrid ever tell me about this?" Ron asked. "I've been in class with
him, and so has Ginny!"

"He obviously didn't want to be overheard, Ron," Ginny responded in an

exasperated voice. "Last I heard, You-Know-Who was still trying to recruit the
giants."

"When did you hear that?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Order meeting, late one night at the beginning of the holiday," Ginny answered.
"Mum thought we were all asleep by the time it started, so she didn't bother to
charm the door or anything. I listened, of course, and they were talking about
trying to talk to the giants again."

"Why didn't you bother to tell us about this?" Harry asked, offended. The basic
rule between all four of them was that if any of them were lucky enough to get
information out of an adult, they shared it with the rest. Harry felt a slight pang of
guilt when he thought of the huge secret he, himself, was keeping from his
friends, but he reasoned that that was different. After all, that was about him.

"Well, that was the day before you came to stay, wasn't it?" Ginny told him, but
didn't say anything else. Harry knew as well as anyone the circumstances that
had led to his removal to Grimmauld Place from Privet Drive. Ron seemed
satisfied with that explanation, and the three friends continued discussing the
dangers of giant breeding in the Forbidden Forest all the way up the stairs and
into Gryffindor Tower.

***

"So, the groundskeeper has a giant," Voldemort said ponderously, his malicious
intent evident in his voice. "How fitting."

Armed with the Invisibility Cloak his father had sent him and desperate to prove
himself, Draco Malfoy had skipped dinner to follow Harry out to Hagrid's hut that
evening. "Yes, My Lord," he answered somewhat proudly. "The giant is called
'Grawp,'" he added with disdain.

"Excellent," Voldemort hissed. "It seems you have your uses after all, young
Malfoy. The giants have shown themselves to be amenable to joining my ranks so
far." He paused for a moment and then continued, "It is time we added to your
mission."

***

Harry remained in the common room long after the other Gryffindors had gone to
bed, ostensibly to work on his homework but really because he desperately
needed some time to think. Ever since yesterday morning before Potions, Harry
had had a nagging sense of unease about keeping the contents of the prophecy
secret from his friends. He had always known that he would eventually have to
tell them, but with the idea that Draco Malfoy might already know it, he realized
that the time was nearing. Now that the prophecy was no longer secret, Harry
supposed that the members of the Order would need to know as well.

There was only one problem with this, though. How could Harry tell his best
mates that his life must either include, or end in, murder? How could he tell them
that it was his fate, not Dumbledore's, not the Aurors', to attempt the defeat the
most evil wizard in the world, the he was the only one who could?

Back to index
 Chapter 23: Defense and the D.A. by WriterLady
Chapter 23: Defense and the D.A.

"Tonks tells me you are more advanced in Defense Against the Dark Arts than her
seventh years, Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he and Harry cleared tables
in a large, unused classroom for their first dueling lesson.

Harry was not sure how to respond to that. Defense Against the Dark Arts was
easily his best subject at school. He supposed that learning the spells and jinxes
necessary to get through the Tri-Wizard Tournament and reading books for the
D.A., not to mention the battles he had gone through, had helped him with his
defense skills. He had not learned any of that, however, in an effort to do better in
his classes.

Kingsley chuckled. "No need to be modest, Harry. I know what you are capable
of." As he pushed the last table against the stone wall, his expression grew
serious. "Advanced as your skills may be, however, my duty is to teach you the
art of dueling as it is taught in Auror training. There are certain aspects of battle
that cannot be taught in school."

Harry nodded solemnly. He knew from experience that a real duel with a Death
Eater did not end with the disarming or stunning of your opponent; it ended only
with capture or death.

"All right, Harry," Kingsley said calmly, rolling up the sleeves of his robes.
"Before we proceed with anything else, I would like to see what you can do
already."

Harry followed suit, rolling up his own sleeves and holding his wand in the ready
position. Before he had even thought to throw his own spell, Kingsley cried,
"Expelliarmus!"

Even though Harry had not cast a spell yet, he was at the ready, and he shouted,
"Protego!" just in time. He felt the spell bounce off of his magical shield and back
towards Kingsley, who jumped to the side, dodging it.

"Impedimenta!" Harry cast the next spell towards Kingsley, hoping to go on the
offensive while Kingsley was dodging his own disarming spell.

"Protego!" This time it was Kingsley who cast the shield charm and Harry had to
drop into a roll to avoid the rebound of his own spell.

"Stupefy!" The spell caught Harry mid-roll, and Harry lay still, stunned. It had
taken only a few seconds for Kingsley to defeat him. The Auror woke Harry
immediately, and the two walked to one corner of the classroom, where Kingsley
had left two chairs and a small table standing.
"What went wrong, Harry?" Kingsley asked seriously when they had been seated.

"I wasn't fast enough," Harry answered.

"Not exactly," Kingsley replied. "Your reflexes are very good, as I expected, and
you dodged the rebound of your Impediment Jinx very well. Can you think of
anything else?"

Harry thought for a moment. He had simply assumed that he had not been fast
enough on his feet, but as this wasn't the case, he answered, "I wasn't ready for
you to cast another spell."

"Precisely," Kingsley told him seriously. "Being able to physically dodge a spell
is very important, but it does not do you much good if you are caught
immediately afterward by another. How do you suppose this problem can be
fixed?"

"It's hard to dodge again when you come out of a roll," Harry pondered.

"Yes, it is," Kingsley answered. "Go on."

"I should have immediately cast another spell back at you as I came out of the
roll, or else been ready to raise my own shield."

"That's correct, Harry. You must always be at least one step ahead of your
opponent - you must always be ready to counter their next move, or else to make
your own. True dueling, as you have seen, happens so quickly that there is little
time to think, only to act."

Harry nodded. He felt incredibly stupid having been beaten so quickly, even if
Kingsley was an Auror. Noticing the expression on his student's face,
Shacklebolt added, "That is why we are beginning with the very basics of dueling,
Harry, using only the spells that you already know. After we have used your
existing skills to increase your speed and accuracy, we will progress into more
advanced techniques."

Harry nodded, wondering what the advanced techniques would consist of. If
Kingsley had noticed the question in his student's eyes, however, he did not
respond. Instead, he stood up, and Harry followed suit. "Are you ready to
continue?" the Auror asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry responded respectfully. He raised his wand to the ready position,
but Kingsley put up one hand to stop him.
"This time, Harry, I would like you to stow your wand in your pocket. I want to
practice dodging today, and you will progress more quickly if you are not
tempted to block me with spells."

Harry was rather taken aback at this instruction. Instead of stowing his wand as
he had been instructed, however, he crossed the room, placing his wand on a
table for safekeeping. He did not want it to break during his attempts at dodging.

For the next hour, Kingsley shot minor jinxes at Harry, who used his Quidditch
reflexes to dodge as many spells in succession as he could. Each time the Auror
managed to hit him, they rested for a moment and discussed Harry's technique.
Shacklebolt did not miss a single flaw, but far from feeling picked upon like he
did in Snape's class, Harry was impressed and appreciative of the attention to
detail.

Over the course of the lesson, Kingsley introduced Harry to more than a few
specific dodging techniques, including a calculated roll that allowed the dueler to
regain footing almost immediately, a spin that he said could eventually be used
as a feint and several simpler, quicker dodges as well. By the time it was over,
Harry was incredibly sore, but had been able to dodge seven spells fired in quick
succession in their final round.

"I would like you to practice what you have learned each night this week. It would
be a good time for your friends to practice their jinxes."

Harry stared at him. "You want Ron and Hermione to throw jinxes at me every
night?"

"Indeed, Harry," Shacklebolt answered. "It will be as good for them as it is for
you. I believe you found a room within the castle that would be quite suitable for
practice, did you not?"

"Er, yeah," Harry responded uncertainly. The Room of Requirement would work
well for this purpose, but he was starting to feel more than a bit overwhelmed
with all he had to do this term. Between his homework, Tonks's physical training
requirements, the D.A., Quidditch practice, and now this, his time was
increasingly spoken for.

Shacklebolt gazed at him seriously. "I know that much is being asked of you this
year, Harry," he said. "But as you seem to find yourself in increasingly difficult
situations more often than even most Aurors, it is important that you be
prepared."

Harry nodded. He knew exactly what he was being prepared for, even if his
trainers did not. For the thousandth time, he felt that nagging feeling of unease as
he considered telling his friends and the Order about the prophecy.
***

That night, while Ginny and Colin were on Prefect duty and Ron and Hermione
went for a walk, Harry wrote a letter to Remus. He badly needed some advice.

Dear Moony,

This week has been much better than last. Classes are OK, but we have loads of
homework, and Ron's making us practice twice a week for our first Quidditch
match against Slytherin in the middle of October. Tonks is on us, too, making us
run every day as physical training for dueling.

Harry stopped and thought for a moment. The first part of this letter had been
easy - it was the sort of note that any student would write to a parent. The next
part would be trickier. How could he ask Moony about revealing the prophecy
without letting any possible letter-thieves know what he was talking about? Harry
sucked on the end of his quill, thinking hard. Finally, he took the damp quill out of
his mouth, dipped it into his ink bottle, and continued.

I worked with Kingsley for the first time this morning. He taught me some cool
dodging stuff. They look a little like something I saw on a ninja show on Dudley's
telly once. I've been thinking it might be time to tell my friends about my secret.
What do you reckon?

Hope you're doing okay. Say hi to the Weasleys for me.

Harry

Harry heard Ginny and Colin coming through the portrait hole just as he was
finishing up. He hastily folded his letter and stuck it into a spell book as she
headed for him.

"What are you working on?" she asked, leaning over to hug him from behind and
kiss him on the cheek, her red hair tickling his face.

"I was just writing a letter to Moony," Harry answered quietly. "I haven't written
him yet this term. Then I was going to start on McGonagall's essay..." he trailed
off. He really didn't feel like doing homework right now.

"Harry, it's Friday. We don't have lessons again until Monday. Why don't you take
a break and have some chess?"

"Or Gobstones!" said Colin Creevey from behind Ginny. "I got a new set over the
holiday. I'll get Dennis, and we could play teams!"
"Er," Harry said, and Ginny felt his shoulder muscles tense slightly. He found it
extremely annoying that Colin had been listening to their conversation, and he
would much rather just quietly play chess with his girlfriend than spend so much
time with the Creevey brothers, both of whom were still prone to staring at
Harry's scar.

Before Harry could find the right words to refuse without offending Colin, Ginny
said brightly, "We'd love to, Colin. Go get Dennis, and we'll meet you over at that
table by the window."

After Colin had gone to find his brother, Harry stood and turned to Ginny. "What'd
you go and do that for?" he asked irritably.

Ginny completely ignored the look of annoyance on Harry's face. She knew that
Colin's open admiration irritated him, but she thought that a loud, obnoxious
game of Gobstones with two people who were not constantly discussing the war
might be just the thing to loosen Harry up. "Colin and Dennis aren't bad, Harry,"
she said calmly. "Besides, they're my friends. If you don't want to play, fine, but
I'm going to."

Harry sighed. He supposed playing Gobstones was better than doing homework
at any rate, and he did want to spend some time with Ginny.

"All right, Harry?" Dennis asked excitedly as he joined his brother, who was
armed with a set of brightly colored balls which looked rather like Muggle
marbles. Dennis simply couldn't believe that he was about to play Gobstones with
Harry Potter, leader of the D.A. and defeater of Lord Voldemort. The fact that he
had seen Harry nearly every day for over two years had done little to curb his
enthusiasm.

"Hi, Dennis!" Ginny said brightly, elbowing Harry when he didn't respond.

"Hi," Harry said.

The four Gryffindors soon became involved in an extremely competitive game,

Ginny and Harry versus the Creevey brothers. Harry had just been squirted in the
face by one of Colin's stones when Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. He
turned to face her, grinning and wiping the smelly liquid from his eyes. The
childish game had served its purpose, and Harry had forgotten his worries and
was having a good time.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, rolling her eyes even as she failed to suppress
a smile.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione glanced at the others, but since Colin and Dennis were both D.A.
members she didn't see much point in pulling Harry aside. "Ron and I were
talking, and we were wondering if you'd given any thought about when we should
have the first D.A. meeting."

"We were wondering about that, too!" Colin piped up. "We keep checking our
Galleons to see if you've changed the date yet." He pulled the fake Galleon
Hermione had given him last year out of his pocket and held it up as evidence.
"But you haven't, have you, Harry?"

"Not yet," Harry said. "Let me go talk to Ron and Hermione about it, okay? I
promise I'll schedule a meeting soon."

The Creevey brothers nodded excitedly and continued playing Gobstones one-
on-one as Ginny and Harry headed over to their favorite spot by the fire, where
Ron was waiting. Harry noticed that Ron's face was flushed and his hair looked
distinctly disheveled. Harry grinned. "Have a nice 'walk,' mate?" he asked
teasingly.

Ron didn't answer, but the glowing red of his ears gave him away. Hermione saw
his embarrassment and, blushing slightly and trying to straighten her own hair,
said quickly, "So, Harry, what do you think about the D.A. meetings?"

Harry thought for a moment. Now that they were two weeks into term, he
reckoned that it was time to get started. "I dunno," he said slowly. "I suppose our
meetings could be a bit more regular, now that they don't have to be secret. We
still have everyone's Quidditch practices to work around, though."

"Ron can talk to the other Captains," Hermione asked in a businesslike voice.

"Won't have to," Ron said, and Harry looked at him in surprise. "Slytherin booked
the Quidditch pitch for themselves every Wednesday from now until Christmas,
from six until curfew, so no one else can practice that day." Ron sounded slightly
bitter, which struck Harry as ironic. It wasn't as though Ron wasn't finding plenty
of time to make his team practice already.

"That's perfect!" Hermione said cheerfully. "No one on the Slytherin team is in the
D.A., so if we have meetings then, we won't have to worry about anyone's
practices."

Harry nodded, but said, "I'll have to talk to Professor Dumbledore about it before
we make any definite plans. I've got Leg - , er, Occlumency training with him on
Tuesday. I can ask then."

Ginny looked sharply at Harry, certain that he had almost let something slip. She
opened her mouth to ask him about it, but something she saw in his eyes warned
her not to. Was it a flicker of fear, or self-doubt, or was it something else entirely?
Ginny made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"How did your lesson with Kingsley go this afternoon?" Hermione asked. She,
too, had noticed Harry's slip, but she had also decided to let it go at present. "I
forgot to ask at dinner because I was so busy trying to stop those second years
from starting a food fight."

Harry described what Kingsley had taught him that afternoon.

"He shot spells at you and didn't even let you use your wand?" Ginny asked
incredulously. "That's not fair!"

"Obviously, Kingsley wants Harry to start with the basics," Hermione said. "Your
wand isn't going to do you much good if you get hit by a spell, is it?"

"But he could still use it to defend himself!" Ron said indignantly. "What's
Kingsley on about?"

"That's not all of it," Harry said. "He wants me to practice the same thing with you
three every night this week, in the Room of Requirement."

"He wants us to throw curses at you when you don't even have your wand?"
Hermione asked, sounding doubtful. It was one thing that Kingsley was doing it,
but what if one of them accidentally hurt Harry?

"Only stuff you know the counter-jinxes for," Harry clarified.

"Still..." Hermione said uncertainly.

Ron suddenly turned a piercing gaze on Harry as a thought occurred to him.

"Why are you getting special dueling classes anyway, Harry? I mean, we know
you've done loads of dangerous stuff, but we've been with you most of the time.
Why's it just you?"

The conversation stopped abruptly as all three of them looked at Harry for an
answer. He shifted very uncomfortably in his seat, and then muttered, "I'm tired. I
think I'll turn in." He didn't look at any of them directly as he packed his books,
quill, and parchment into his bag. He gave Ginny a quick kiss on her forehead
and headed to the stairs without another word.

"Do you two have the feeling that he's hiding something?" Ron asked as he
watched Harry go upstairs toward their dormitory. Ginny threw her brother an
exasperated look. He certainly had a talent for stating the obvious.

"Whatever it is, we'll find out soon," Hermione said confidently.

"How do you know, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Because he can't keep it bottled up much longer," Hermione said simply. "Didn't
you see his face? Whatever this is, it's about to drive him mad."

Ginny sighed softly. She felt like she had gotten so much closer to Harry over the
summer, but she couldn't help but envy how easily her brother and Hermione
seemed be able to read him.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

Ginny sighed again. "I just wish I could learn to understand him like you two do."

Ron nodded wisely. After all, Ginny hadn't been hanging around Harry for as long
as he and Hermione had. Hermione, however, did not seem convinced that Ginny
was as far behind in the art of Harry-reading as she thought.

***

Remus Lupin smiled as Hedwig soared through his open window. He'd been
hoping to hear from Harry sometime soon. He'd gotten so used to talking to him
every day over the summer, and now he found that he missed Harry more than
ever.

His smile didn't fade as he read Harry's note, although he knew that they would
have to find a better way to communicate. Harry was obviously trying to be
cryptic, and it made the letter very short and uninformative. Remus had a couple
of ideas about that, but until he could actually see Harry in person, owl post
would have to do.

He was glad that Harry was ready to tell his friends about the prophecy. Remus
and Dumbledore had talked several times about telling the Order the full contents
of it, but they both were hesitant, not wanting to betray Harry's trust. Now, of all
times, Harry had to be comfortable being completely honest with them.

Remus got out a piece of parchment and thought about what to say in his return
post. He wondered whether Harry would like it if he was with him when he told his
friends, and he also wondered if Harry wanted to tell the Order on his own, or if
he would give Dumbledore permission to do so. He dipped his quill into a bottle
of black ink and replied,

Harry,

Thank you for your note. I had been hoping to hear from you. I'm glad that your
second week of term has gone well, although I know you must be feeling very
overwhelmed right now with all that is being required of you. Stay strong, Harry -
you can do this!

Professor Dumbledore told me that the first Hogsmeade excursion will be the on
the third weekend in October - one week after your first Quidditch match. I think
this might be a good time to talk to your friends, and I believe I know just the
place for it. Remember where you first met Snuffles?

Would you like me to be there with you when you talk to them? It is your
decision, Harry, but I am willing and happy to do so if you would like me to. Just
let me know.

Everyone at Headquarters is fine, although the house seems unbearably quiet

without you lot pounding up and down the stairs all day.

I will see you soon.

Moony

Remus smiled at his final comment. Harry did not know it, but he was planning on
surprising him by coming to his first Quidditch match of the season. It was a full
week after the full moon so making the trip would not be a problem, and he
looked forward to seeing him again.

***

Even though Dumbledore had officially approved Harry's plan to continue with
the D.A. during this school year, they had decided that the Room of Requirement
was still the best place to hold the meetings, mainly because Harry did not have
the resources of a teacher and the room was so generous in providing everything
they needed.

Upon the Headmaster's approval, Harry had set the date on his Galleon for the
following Wednesday, and even though he had been reluctant to continue, he
could not help but grin nervously as every single member from last year, with the
exception of Marietta Edgecombe, who was too embarrassed to show up, filed
through the door of the Room of Requirement and sat down on the cushions on
the floor, looking at him expectantly. Harry saw some new faces as well.

"Er, hi," Harry began, clearing his throat. He had gotten over his nervousness at
leading such a large group the previous year, but after the holidays, he found that
he was quite out of practice. "I'm glad you all came back, and to those of you who
are here for the first time, welcome," he said. "As you probably know already, we
don't have to keep all of this a secret anymore, so from here on out, the meetings
will be on Wednesdays at seven."
There was a general murmur of assent throughout the room.

"This year will be a bit different from last year in some other ways, too," Harry
continued. "Since we finally have a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher
-"

"Hear, hear!" interrupted Ernie Macmillan rather pompously, and many of the
students in the room chuckled.

Harry grinned and waited for the murmurs to die down again. "As I was saying,"
he continued, his voice considerably stronger, "Since we have Professor Tonks
now, the D.A. is going to be much more dueling-oriented this year. I've talked to
Professor Dumbledore about this, and we both think that the best use of the
D.A.'s time would be to put the things we are learning in Defense to practical
use."

"We're just going to be going over the stuff we do in Defense Against the Dark
Arts?" Zacharias Smith broke in. "That's it?"

"Yes, that's it, but that's a lot," Harry said, throwing Ron, whose ears had begun
to turn red, a warning look. "We're not only going to be practicing the new
offensive and defensive spells we'll learn with Professor Tonks, we are going to
be working on physical tactics of dueling as well. As some of you may already
know, in a real duel, you are not going to be standing still, shooting spells at one
another in turn. You've got to be able to think on your feet, to stay a step ahead of
your opponent. That is what we will be working on this year, in addition to some
other things. Any questions?"

Some of the Ravenclaw members looked at each other uncomfortably, as if

silently trying to decide who was going to raise their hand. Finally, Cho Chang
tentatively put her hand in the air. When Harry nodded at her, and asked, "What
happened at the Ministry of Magic, Harry?"

Harry sighed and exchanged a glance with Ron and Hermione. He had known this
was going to come up. "Look, that's not really the point of the meeting," Harry
began, willing himself to speak in a calm voice. The battle at the Department of
Mysteries was still a very hard topic for him to discuss.

Ginny saw the struggle plainly on his face even if it was imperceptible to
everyone else but Ron and Hermione, and she stood up. "If you want to know
anything about that, you can ask me, Hermione, Ron, Neville, or Luna. We were all
there, too. For now, let Harry teach. That is why we're here, isn't it?" Neville
looked positively alarmed at having his name mentioned to the entire D.A., but
Luna didn't appear to be following the conversation at all. She was staring
absentmindedly somewhere over Harry's head.
Harry shot a grateful look at his girlfriend as most of the members of the D.A.
nodded. Even though they were disappointed in Harry's answer, they had not
actually expected to get any information out of him. Harry took a deep breath.
"Right," he said. "We're going to spend the rest of this hour working on your
Protego shield charms. Yes, I know that the sixth and seventh years have already
worked on those in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he added, because Zacharias
looked ready to interrupt again, "Because of that, we're going to divide into
groups of three rather than two. After a short demonstration of the spell, I want
one older student paired with two younger ones. The older student will practice
his or her shield against both of the younger students, and then will give help as
the younger students practice against only each other. Does everyone
understand?"

Harry stepped back into a clear space, and Ron and Hermione advanced on him,
wands at the ready. The room waited with baited breath.

Just as Hermione cast her first spell, Harry cried, "Protego!" and moved his wand
in a broad, sweeping motion diagonally across his body, concentrating hard on
creating a strong shield against Hermione's charm. There was a unified "ooh" as
a translucent gold buffer materialized between Harry and his friends. Hermione's
jelly-legs jinx bounced harmlessly off of it, but Ron was so busy gaping at the
physical manifestation of Harry's shield charm that he didn't think to dodge the
rebound of the jinx. Ron's legs folded underneath him, no longer able to support
his weight, and he sank to the floor, his ears going pink with embarrassment even
as he continued to stare at Harry.

"Right," Harry said to the room at large as Hermione hurried over to work the
counter-curse on Ron. "As you just saw, if done correctly, the shield charm works
both as a defensive and as an offensive tactic. Go ahead and divide up; like I did
last year, I'll be walking around the room to help if you need it." Harry tried to
keep his face neutral, as if what had happened with his shield charm was
completely normal.

The room soon became filled with shouts as the students got into groups and
began shooting spells at one another, and as soon as they saw that the other D.A.
members were occupied, Hermione and Ron came straight to Harry.

"Harry, how did you do that, mate?" Ron asked in an awed voice. "I can do the
spell, but my shield is invisible. So is Hermione's."

Harry shrugged. He didn't know why his shield had become visible or what it
meant.

"Harry, your shield is obviously getting more powerful," Hermione said. "Just the
other day, I read something about the Protego Charm that said that as the spell
grows stronger, the shield can become visible, even become completely solid,
but I've never seen anyone do it before."

"I don't know," Harry said. "I practiced on it a bit with Kingsley in our second
lesson before he made me put my wand away again. He showed me some ways to
concentrate the power of the spell, but it wasn't visible then."

Ron and Hermione didn't reply, but continued to stare at Harry, their faces
wearing identical impressed expressions. Harry looked away from them, out at
the other students, and said, "I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore about it, but for
right now I'm going to go work with some of the others. Can you two help some of
the younger students?" Ron and Hermione nodded.

Harry began walking between the groups of students, staying clear of rebounding
spells and working counter-charms on the students whose shields had been
unsuccessful. The sixth and seventh years who were in N.E.W.T. Defense Against
the Dark Arts were all doing rather well, but Harry stopped to help many of the
fourth- and fifth-years with theirs. Ginny was practicing with Colin and Neville,
and Harry was impressed by Ginny's shield, but even more so by Neville's new
abilities. It seemed as though his new wand was really helping, if for no other
reason than it seemed to give him more confidence in his ability. The rest of the
hour passed by quickly; at eight, he dismissed the D.A., finding it rather nice that
he no longer had to worry about anyone getting caught.

***

And so September passed into October, and Harry fell into bed each night
completely exhausted. This year, he was very diligent about practicing his
Occlumency before sleep, and between that and his physical exertion, he had
very few dreams, and the ones he did have, he rarely remembered.

Almost every moment of every day was now accounted for. Tonks had increased
their daily runs to thirty minutes, and Kingsley still required that Ron, Hermione,
and Ginny practice with Harry every night. As a result, Harry's dodging skills were
improving rapidly, and in their lesson the day before the first Quidditch match,
Kingsley had finally let Harry use his wand in their practice and was beginning to
show him how to combine his new physical skill with his spellwork.

All-in-all, although he himself didn't realize it, Harry's friends and teachers could
see his power growing daily, and they were at once impressed with and
frightened by the determination that was so evident on his face as they practiced.
Dumbledore had been correct. Harry was a child no more.

Back to index
 Chapter 24: Truth and Consequences by WriterLady
Chapter 24: Truth and Consequences

The morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match dawned cloudy
and damp. The sky was pregnant with expected rain, but so far none had fallen.
Ron was as nervous as Harry had ever seen him. At breakfast, he hardly at a bite
and he kept glancing up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, hoping against
hope that the rain would hold off until after the match.

"Cheer up, mate," Harry said bracingly. "The team has been looking really good
the last couple of weeks. If everyone's on form, we shouldn't have a problem."

Ron didn't reply, just poked worriedly at his cereal. When he called down the
table for the team to head to the pitch, everyone noticed that his voice sounded a
lot less confident than it had since he had been made Captain.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Ginny asked Harry as they headed down to the
pitch, their brooms on their shoulders.

"He'll be fine once he gets in the air," Harry said confidently. "He's just nervous
because this is his first game as Captain."

Ginny nodded, hoping he was right, as they headed into the locker rooms to
change.

Once his team had changed into their scarlet Quidditch robes, Ron stood in front
of them and cleared his throat. Harry and Ginny were both relieved to see that
Ron's posture exuded the confidence they had grown accustomed to -
apparently, Ron's team robes with the gold Captain's badge pinned proudly on
his chest had done much to quell his nervousness.

"All right, team, the ground is a bit damp, so take that into account as you kick
off. It's cloudy, so we won't have to worry about glare, but the Snitch might be
hard to see, Harry," he said in his most businesslike voice. "Chasers," he
continued, looking at Katie, Ginny, and Meg, "Slytherin plays dirty, so keep your
eyes open and a tight hold on the Quaffle. Before you make a pass, be certain
that it cannot be intercepted." Katie and Ginny nodded, but Meg looked very
nervous. Harry hoped she would fly well once the game began.

"Beaters, play fiercely but fairly. I can guarantee that Crabbe and Goyle won't,
and any penalty shots we're awarded will only strengthen our position." Kirke and
Sloper nodded, and Harry was glad they had improved since the previous year.

"All right, team, let's go out and start the season with a big win!" Ron said. They
all shouldered their brooms and filed onto the pitch.
As the game began and Harry soared far above it, his eyes peeled for the Snitch,
he saw that Slytherin was playing as dirtily as ever. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory
Goyle, the Slytherin beaters, were swinging their clubs wildly, seeming not to
care whether they hit a Bludger, the Quaffle, or the head of a Gryffindor player.
Harry surged with anger as Goyle took a direct shot at Meg, but he was proud of
the Sloth Grip Roll she employed to avoid the club while still holding onto the red
Quaffle. She certainly seemed to have gotten over her case of nerves as they
began play.

"Meg Jackson, the youngest member of the Gryffindor team, soars up the pitch
after avoiding a nasty swing by Gregory Goyle of Slytherin. Weasley and Bell are
flanking her in close formation as she heads for the Slytherin goalposts, she
shoots, she scores the first goal of the game! Ten points to Gryffindor! We should
keep our eyes on this girl!" Justin Finch-Fletchley, the new Quidditch
commentator, kept up with the game easily, although his commentary was
noticeably devoid of the colorful comments that had been Lee Jordan's
trademark.

Harry continued to search for the Snitch as the commentary told him that
Slytherin's Chasers had taken possession of the Quaffle and scored once on Ron,
but missed twice afterwards. At each miss, the Gryffindor stands, a sea of scarlet
and gold, broke into a chorus of "Weasley is Our King," which caused Harry to
grin and flash a thumbs-up at Ron.

"And, what's this?" Justin's voice sounded over the roars of the crowd.
"Slytherin's Seeker has taken a Beater bat from Vincent Crabbe, and is flying
straight for Gryffindor Chaser Ginny Weasley. Dodge him, Ginny!"

Malfoy had apparently decided that Crabbe was being too slow, and had taken the
Beater's bat from him and was streaking straight towards Ginny, who was
speeding for the Slytherin goal posts, the Quaffle held tightly in her hands. The
Slytherin Keeper was distracted by Malfoy's tactics, and Ginny scored easily. As
she turned to join the other Chasers, Malfoy swung the bat fiercely, and there was
a gasp from the crowd as everyone heard the crack of wood on Ginny's face.

Harry, who had been trying to take advantage of Malfoy's distraction and was
certain that Ginny could hold her own, turned his broom sharply and sped
towards her, pushing his Firebolt to the considerable limits of its speed. He didn't
even hear Madam Hooch's angry shouting as she awarded not one, but two
penalty shots to Gryffindor for the unprovoked attack on their Chaser and
ordered Malfoy to give the Beater's bat back to Crabbe and play in his normal
position. He got to Ginny before anyone else, and he pulled his broom up beside
hers.

"I'm fine, Harry," Ginny said angrily, glaring at Malfoy, who was now circling the
pitch, trying to find the Snitch while Harry checked on his teammate. "Go back to
the game! I dodged just in time, he only barely got me! Don't you dare let him get
the Snitch! He only did this because he knew you would come to check on me!
Go back to the game!" The entire left side of her face was swollen, and he knew
that Malfoy had likely broken her cheekbone. Seeing her angry glare, however,
and knowing that she was still well enough to play, Harry returned to the game,
nodding grimly at Ron, who returned to the Gryffindor goalposts.

Harry knew that Ginny was all right when she scored the two penalty shots easily,
bringing the score to forty-ten in Gryffindor's favor. Harry began marking Malfoy
closely. He was determined to make him pay.

"Slytherin Chasers head up the pitch, they shoot and they score on Captain Ron
Weasley. Ten points to Slytherin!" The Gryffindor crowd groaned, and the
Slytherins screamed wildly for their team.

"Too bad about your little girlfriend, Potty," Malfoy yelled. "Think she'll have a
scar? That would be sweet, wouldn't it? Potty and the little Weasel girlfriend with
ugly scars on their faces!"

Harry knew Malfoy was trying to bait him into losing his temper. His grip on the
handle of his Firebolt was so tight that his knuckles were white, but he did not
reply to Malfoy's taunts. Harry knew Madam Pomfrey would heal Ginny in a
second after the game was over, and he was not going to let this blonde git get to
him now.

Below the two Seekers, the game grew increasingly nasty. Beaters were
relentless with their bats, and the Chasers flew at each other with such ferocity
that Harry thought it was a miracle that anyone was able to score. Somehow,
however, both sides managed it, and almost an hour into the game the score was
140-100 in Gryffindor's favor, and Harry had not yet found the Snitch.

Between Kingsley's dueling lessons, Tonks's physical training requirements, and

the fact that Ron had required his team to practice at least twice a week since the
beginning of term, Harry was in the best physical shape of his life, and his flying
was evidence to that. Never had he been able to push the Firebolt as far as he
was today as he tried to unnerve Malfoy, and never had he been in tighter control.

Malfoy hooted with glee from right behind Harry as a Bludger collided painfully
with Katie Bell's shoulder, causing her to drop the Quaffle, and it was then that
Harry made the decision to attempt something he had only yet tried in practice.
Faking a look of sudden concentration, Harry pushed his broom into an almost
completely vertical dive, and he sped towards the ground with a speed so
alarming that it caused the entire crowd to gasp. Knowing that Malfoy was
following him on his Nimbus 2001, Harry slowed just enough to allow his
opponent to close the distance between them as they plummeted toward the
ground.
"Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter is putting his broom through its paces as he
speeds towards the ground, Draco Malfoy close on his tail!" Justin exclaimed,
and the whole crowd looked towards the ground, expecting to see the Snitch.

Harry was only inches away from the grass when he suddenly pulled out of his
dive, putting every bit of his strength into bringing his Firebolt into a horizontal
position. As his toes skimmed the ground, he heard, to his immense satisfaction,
a sickening crunch as Malfoy crashed into the pitch at nearly full speed.

"Potter's done a Wronski Feint!" Justin yelled into his magical megaphone. "I
can't believe it! The Wronski Feint, one of the most dangerous Seeker diversions
in the game of Quidditch, is usually only seen in the professional leagues! Watch
out for Potter, ladies and gentlemen, the leagues will surely be vying for him
when he's out of school! A time-out is called as Madam Pomfrey and Madam
Hooch rush onto the field to tend to Draco Malfoy."

The Gryffindor team flew into a huddle at the end of the pitch as the Hogwarts
nurse revived Malfoy, but Harry did not join them. He and Ron had agreed that the
best use of Harry's time during any breaks in play would be to continue looking
for the Snitch, and Harry was not concerned for Malfoy in the least. The prat had
it coming to him after what he had done to Ginny. The only difference between
the two was that Harry's move had been completely legal.

Rain began to fall as Madam Pomfrey continued to work over Malfoy, mending his
broken bones and administering potions right on the pitch. As Harry flew above
everyone else, his eyes peeled for the small golden Snitch, he suddenly wobbled
on his broom as he detected a powerful push on his mind, a push that could only
mean that Voldemort and Malfoy were again trying to attack him. Of course, the
senior Malfoy would have known Harry would be playing Quidditch this morning,
and they probably hoped that the force of the attack would cause Harry to fall off
of his broom.

Harry stopped completely as he focused all of his energy on keeping the

intruders out. "Not now," he thought as he struggled violently, and with a final
shove, his mind cleared.

It was, perhaps, a very lucky coincidence that the storm broke in earnest at that
very moment, for when Harry focused all of his power on expelling Voldemort and
Malfoy from his mind, a strong gust of wind blew out from him and through the
stadium, blowing hats and umbrellas out of the stands and onto the pitch. No
one, however, seemed to suspect the true origin of the gust as the rain began to
pour.

No one, that is, except the two people in the stands who were always watching
more carefully than he ever knew, the two people who had kept their attention on
him and not on Draco Malfoy. Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore had looked at
each other worriedly when they had seen Harry stop, sure that they knew what
was happening. Dumbledore's wand was already out, ready to slow Harry's
inevitable fall, but the fall never came. Instead, Harry's face screwed up in
concentration, and they could both see him fighting to keep his Occlumency
shield up. The wind gusted through the stadium just as Harry's expression
cleared, and the two men who had been watching looked at each other in
amazement. This was certainly a new development, and one which would have to
be carefully monitored and built upon in future.

For his part, Harry had no idea that he had caused the violent surge of wind that
shook the very stands in the stadium. All he felt was his victory. Although he had
pushed Voldemort and Malfoy out of his mind once before, the night Mrs. Figg
had been killed, he had not been able to do it immediately, as he had today. The
amount of magical force he had been required to use had exceeded even that of
what he had used to keep Dumbledore out, and Harry felt certain that Voldemort
had not lifted the attack voluntarily.

The game resumed as Draco Malfoy remounted his broom to the tumultuous
cheers from the Slytherin stands, and Harry cast an Impervious charm on his
glasses so he could see the Snitch. He and the rest of the players were growing
cold and wet, and as the game below grew, if it were possible, even nastier, Harry
knew he needed to catch the Snitch soon.

The score was 210-140 in Gryffindor's favor when Harry caught the faintest glint
of gold hovering above the stand in which the staff members were sitting. It was,
perhaps, a good thing that Malfoy was still more than a little dazed by his violent
appointment with the earth, since he was actually a lot closer to the Snitch than
Harry was.

Malfoy bucked a bit on his broom as Harry sped past him, and he caught sight of
the Snitch as he looked to see if Harry was feinting again. He quickly gave chase
when he saw the glint of gold, but his Nimbus was no match for Harry's Firebolt,
and the Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers and applause as Harry Potter caught
the Snitch.

"And it's a Gryffindor win with a final score of 360 to 140!" Justin proclaimed,
though his voice could barely be heard over the screams of the spectators.

Harry held the Snitch over his head as he flew to center pitch to join his
teammates. As they sank to the ground everyone wore the biggest grins Harry
had ever seen, even Ginny, whose cheek was swollen almost beyond recognition.

"Fan-bloody-tastic game, Harry!" Ron said exuberantly as the crowd began to

surround them on the pitch.
"Everyone played really well," Harry replied, and it was true. Kirke and Sloper,
while they still couldn't rival the Weasley twins, had held their own. Meg, Ginny,
and Katie had worked together as though they had been for years, and Ron's
goalkeeping abilities were becoming excellent.

Harry was knocked aside as Hermione threw herself onto Ron, hugging him
fiercely, and as Harry turned to make sure that Ginny went to see Madam Pomfrey
straightaway, he heard a booming voice that he would recognize anywhere.

"Harry!" Hagrid cried as the crowds of students parted a bit to let the huge man
pass. "Yeh did it! Knew yeh would! Gryffindor fer the cup again!" He clapped
Harry on the shoulder, and Harry only barely remained able to stay on his feet.

Those that could hear Hagrid, and most of them could, burst into renewed
cheering. Just as Harry had finally managed to connect Madam Pomfrey with
Ginny, he felt a soft tap on his shoulder and turned to look straight into the face
of his guardian.

"Moony!" Harry cried. "I didn't know you were going to be here!"

Remus smiled. "I thought I would surprise you. You played exceedingly well,
Harry. Your father would have been quite pleased."

Harry grinned. He liked to think that his father would have enjoyed this game as
much as he had. He was flying as high as he had in a long time - between his first
successful Wronski Feint, his success at denying Voldemort and Malfoy entrance
to his mind, and Gryffindor's win, even the rain that continued to pour did nothing
to bring him down.

"Harry!" Ginny called through the noise of the rain and the chattering students
who seemed not to notice it. He turned and saw that she was still smiling, but
looked a bit disgruntled all the same.

"What is it, Ginny? Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine," Ginny said impatiently. "It's only Madam Pomfrey says I have to go to
the hospital wing with her for now. I'll be back in the common room later for the
celebration, though."

"Want me to come with you?" Harry inquired with some concern.

"No, no," Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "It's just a bruise. I'll be fine.
Besides," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think Remus probably wants to
spend some time with you."
Harry nodded. He wanted to spend time with Moony as well. He said as much to
Ron and Hermione, and after he had changed out of his team robes, he met
Remus and they headed back up to the castle, keeping relatively dry under the
umbrella that his guardian had conjured after losing his first one.

"I know I already said so, but you really played excellently this morning," Moony
told him proudly as they walked alone through the grand front entrance to the
castle. They had made their way from the Quidditch pitch slowly, and the other
students were quite far ahead of them. Harry knew that the Gryffindors would be
celebrating late into the night, but at the moment, he was simply glad to be
spending some time with Moony; time that was, for once, not marred by an
attack.

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning.

"I was especially impressed with your feint," Moony continued dryly, and Harry
glanced at him and was relieved to see a smile playing on the corners of his
guardian's mouth. Harry had been afraid for a moment that the adults would be
angry with him for causing injury to Draco Malfoy even if he hadn't done it
directly. From the amused look on Moony's face, however, Harry got the distinct
impression that he was not alone in feeling that Malfoy had deserved the trick.

"I only decided to do it after that git hit Ginny," Harry said, his expression
darkening just a bit.

"And rightly so, Harry. Honestly, that is not a move one usually sees on the
school teams. Mr. Malfoy certainly was not expecting it, but I must admit you did
it very well. Where did you learn it?"

"I saw Viktor Krum do it at the Quidditch World Cup before fourth year," Harry
said. "I've worked on it ever since, but I haven't been able to do it until recently. It
takes a lot of control."

Remus nodded. "It certainly does, Harry. I think you could have given Krum a run
for his money today."

"Really?" Harry grinned more broadly than ever at this compliment.

"Absolutely. What do you say we head down to the kitchens? I could do with a
cup of tea, couldn't you?"

"You want to sneak into the kitchens?" Harry asked in amazement.

"Harry, I am a Marauder, and after your victories today, I believe that some minor
rule-breaking is in order, wouldn't you say? I imagine you and your friends know
how to get down there by now, don't you?"
Harry noticed that Moony had said "victories" rather than "victory," and he
wondered whether he knew about the failed attempt on Harry's mind during the
game. He decided to wait until the older man brought it up, however, and he
grinned as he said, "We've known how to get down there since fourth year."

As they took the staircase down to the kitchen corridor, Moony glanced at Harry
with an amused expression on his face. "Fourth year?" he said teasingly. "Harry,
I'm surprised at you. James, Sirius, and I had it figured out before Christmas of
our first year!"

"Really?" Harry asked, hoping he was about to hear another story from his
father's days at Hogwarts.

"Really," Moony replied rather smugly. "James reckoned that it had to be

somewhere below the Great Hall, and as his family and the Black family both had
house-elves in their employ, they figured that the kitchens would be well-staffed
with elves just waiting to provide us with whatever we fancied. They were right, of
course, although it took the better part of the first term to actually find the
entrance and figure out how to get in."

"How did you do it without being seen?" Harry asked. It had been his experience
that wandering around in the corridors after hours was a very dangerous thing for
first years to do. It was easy to get lost, and the caretaker always seemed to know
when students were out of bed.

"Your father's Invisibility Cloak, of course," Remus answered. "From September

on, the three of us went under it about every other night and explored the castle.
Although we had not yet even thought of making the Marauder's Map yet, we all
shared the desire to know the castle better than anyone else.

"I suppose it was right before the Christmas holidays when we finally found the
painting that was the entrance to the kitchens. We were standing in front of it, the
invisibility cloak off so we could move around, when we heard someone coming
down the stairs. We tried to put the cloak back on, but it is rather difficult to
quickly cover three people."

"Where was Peter?" Harry asked after he had nodded in agreement with this last
statement. It was indeed difficult to completely cover three people very quickly.

"This was before we knew Peter all that well," Remus answered with a slight
grimace. "We should have kept it that way. Anyway, Sirius started running his
hands up and down the painting, desperate to make it open before we were seen,
and your father kept whispering the most ridiculous passwords at it. None of
them worked, of course, but just as the person reached the bottom of the stairs,
Sirius ran his hands over the pear and it began to giggle. We realized quickly
what the secret must be, and all three of us tickled it until we gained entrance;
just in time, I might add."

Harry chuckled. It seemed that he, Ron, and Hermione were not the only students
who were good at making escapes just in the nick of time.

They had reached the painting at the kitchen entrance by now, but Remus turned
to continue his story before he tickled the pear. "We had the Invisibility Cloak
wrapped partially around us as we all crashed in at once. It must have been past
midnight, and I'm sure you can imagine the house-elves' surprise to find Sirius's
head, one of my arms, and James's feet come crashing through the door all of a
sudden. After we took off the cloak, however, we were not disappointed. I think
we ate more that night than we did at the Halloween feast, just from the sheer
novelty of it." As he finished his story, Remus reached out and tickled the pear. It
immediately turned into a door handle, and they walked in, only to be immediately
accosted by a small figure wearing at least ten of Hermione's elf hats from the
previous year.

"Harry Potter is here! Come, bring Harry Potter some food!" Dobby called as he
wrapped his arms around Harry's knees. "What is you wanting, Harry Potter?
Tea? Biscuits? Why is you all wet, sir, and who is this man with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but said, "Hi, Dobby. This is Professor Lupin. He used to be
the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and he's my guardian now."

"Professor Lupin must be a great man to be guardian of the noble Harry Potter!"
Dobby squeaked.

"Thank you, Dobby," said Remus, deciding that it would be easier not to protest.
"Harry and I were wondering if we could have a spot of tea and a private
conversation?"

Dobby bowed so deeply that the top of his hat skimmed the floor, and in the next
instant four house-elves, all wearing crisp tea-towels stamped with the Hogwarts
crest, hurried up to Harry and Remus bearing a large silver tray with a teapot, two
cups, and an assortment of biscuits and breads.

"Thank you," Remus said pleasantly.

"Is there anything else that Harry Potter is wanting, sir? We is honored to serve
the noble Harry Potter, the great and - "

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry interrupted. "I think Remus and I are going to go sit at the
table if that's all right."
"Harry Potter asks if it is all right with Dobby!" the elf cried. "Dobby is honored to
have Mr. Harry Potter sit down! Oh, wait till Dobby tells Winky, sir!" At the
mention of Winky's name, the other house elves looked disapprovingly at Dobby,
bowed to Harry and Remus, and went back to their work preparing the evening's
supper.

"Where is Winky?" Harry asked, looking around.

"Winky is not well, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said sadly. "Winky does not come to
the kitchens anymore. Winky lives only with Mr. Filch now."

"Winky's gone to stay with Filch?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"Winky is not liking working in the kitchen with the other house elves, sir," Dobby
answered, his ears drooping even more. "Winky has nowhere else to go, sir, so
she goes to clean for Mr. Filch. Dobby only sees her once in awhile."

"Oh," said Harry awkwardly, thinking of what Hermione would have to say about
the matter. "Well, er, tell her we said hello, alright?"

Dobby perked right up. "Oh, Dobby will tell her, Harry Potter! You is truly a kind
and noble wizard!"

"Thanks again, Dobby," Harry said, and was relieved when Remus interrupted.

"I think Harry and I are going to sit down now and talk, Dobby. Thank you for
everything," he said firmly.

Dobby bowed once again and went to work with the rest of the elves, his grin still
lighting up his ugly little face.

"You have quite an admirer, Harry," Remus said with a smile.

"Yeah, he's always been like that," Harry said, his face red with embarrassment.

"You handle him very well," Moony replied. "Now, Harry, I wanted to ask you
something about the game. When Malfoy was injured, what happened to you on
the pitch? Why did you stop flying?"

Harry replied, "You already know, don't you? That's why you're asking."

Moony nodded. "Indeed, Harry, although I highly doubt that anyone besides
Professor Dumbledore and I noticed, for most of the students and staff were
watching Madam Pomfrey tend to Malfoy. It's very important for you to tell me
exactly what happened, however."
"Nothing, really," Harry said. "I was looking for the Snitch, and I felt Voldemort
and Malfoy try to get into my mind again."

"Did they succeed?" Remus asked with concern, although he thought he already
knew the answer.

"No," Harry said. "It was hard, but I managed to keep them from getting in. It was
even harder than it was with Professor Dumbledore, I reckon because there were
two of them."

"How did you know it was both of them if they never got in?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "But it was both of them. I'm sure of that."

"I don't doubt you, Harry, but there are certain reasons why I need to know
exactly what happened."

"Like I said before, nothing happened. They tried to attack me. I put up my shields
and pushed them out. That was all."

"But that wasn't all, Harry," Remus said seriously.

"What do you mean, it wasn't all?" Harry asked in confusion. He had been there,
and nothing else had happened.

"Did you not feel the force of your magical push against them, Harry? Did you not
notice what you did?"

"What did I do?" Harry asked, and he was getting tired of the questions. He
wished Moony would just out with whatever was on his mind so they could get on
to more pleasant topics.

"The force of the power of your shield was felt by everyone in the stadium, Harry,
in the form of something that felt like a gust of wind. Don't worry," he added
hastily, seeing the alarmed look on Harry's face. "I believe everyone else simply
thought it was a gust from the storm."

"How do you know it wasn't?" Harry asked.

"Professor Dumbledore and I both knew the origin of the energy surge as soon as
we felt it. I can give you no other explanation than that - it was quite possibly
because we had been watching you when it happened."

Harry nodded, but his mind was racing. First his shield had become visible, and
now his Occlumency defense was apparently sending out waves of magical
energy. What was happening to him?
"Harry," Remus said quietly, gazing at him intensely. "I believe you were correct
in saying that it is time you told your friends about the prophecy."

Harry nodded. He knew it was time.

"I wanted to ask if you would like me to come and be with you when you do. It is
completely up to you, Harry, but I will be here if that is what you want."

Harry had been considering whether or not he wanted Moony to come with him
when he talked to his friends ever since he had gotten the reply to his note. On
one hand, he was dreading their reactions and wanted the support. On the other
hand, while his friends liked Remus quite a bit, they were not as close to him as
Harry was, and Harry thought that it might be better if they were alone. His
decision made, he smiled faintly at his guardian. "Thanks, Moony," he said
sincerely, "But I think this is something I have to do myself."

Remus nodded. "My suggestion to you would be to use the Shrieking Shack,
Harry."

"That seems as though it would be as good a place as any, but how are we going
to get past the Whomping Willow without being seen?"

"Ah, Harry, you have so much yet to learn," Moony sighed, but he was smiling.
"The Marauders long ago found a way into the Shrieking Shack that did not
involve the Willow. All you have to do is go past the stile in Hogsmeade, loop
around to the back side of the Shack, and you will find a gate concealed by a
bush. Tap your wand on the latch, say 'Secret Unsecured,' and you can go in -
that incantation unlocks the back door to the Shack as well. To lock it behind you,
tap it again and say 'Secret Secured,' and the wards will go back up."

Harry grinned. It seemed like the Marauders had an answer for everything, and
having the Shrieking Shack as a private meeting place sounded like a very good
idea indeed.

"Now, Harry," Remus said. "Speaking of secrets, I think it is high time you and I
found a better way to communicate than through owl post - what do you reckon?"

"How, Moony?" Harry asked. "The Floo Network?"

"No, not exactly," Remus said. "The only access you really have to the Floo
Network is through Gryffindor's fire, and that is hardly secure."

"What, then?" Harry asked. He carefully avoided mentioning the two-way mirror
Sirius had given him. He did not know where Sirius's half was now, but he did not
think he could bear to use it, even with Moony.
"What I have in mind is something similar to a Portkey, Harry, although it will not
physically transport us to another location."

Harry was intrigued. This was something he had not heard of before. "Go on," he
said eagerly.

Remus dug in his pocket and pulled out a leather chain. Laced onto it was
something that looked like a very small, very old glass bottle, which was corked
tightly and seemed to hold a small amount of some sort of glistening silver
potion. "This is for you, Harry," he said. "You can wear it under your robes, or
you may leave it in your trunk if you are more comfortable doing so."

Harry accepted the small amulet and was surprised to find that it was rather warm
to the touch. "When you want to contact me, simply hold the vial in your hand
and concentrate on the message you wish to send. The concentration it will
require will be a bit like what you use in Legilimency, but you will find that, as
there is no resistance involved, it will not drain your energy in the slightest. When
you have made the connection, simply speak to me as you would if we were in
the same room. On my end, I will be able to receive your message
instantaneously."

"What happens if you don't have it on you?" Harry asked, wondering how
complicated this was to be.

"It does not matter. If I am not in possession of my end at the time, the message
will remain intact until I receive it. Much like the Galleon's Hermione charmed last
year for the D.A., the potion inside the amulet will warm up considerably and turn
blue until the message has been received."

"It sounds a lot like an answerphone," Harry muttered, trying to understand how
the amulets worked.

"A what?" Remus asked with interest.

"It's a machine the Muggles use to leave messages for each other when someone
isn't home to pick up the telephone," Harry answered. He always forgot how little
most wizards knew of Muggle technology.

"Maybe so, but the best part about these is that they are completely private. Even
if one of the amulets were to fall into the wrong hands, you and I are the only
people who can use them. I've put several charms on them to see to that."

Harry smiled. "That's brilliant, Moony!" he said. He was very glad indeed to have a
safer means of communicating with his guardian than owl post, not the least of
his reasons being that he did not want Hedwig to get hurt.
Remus leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of his tea, looking carefully at
Harry as he did so. He was very glad to see that Harry liked the means of
communication he had found, and also that Harry seemed to be happier than he
had been in a long time. The boy certainly deserved it, especially after his
performance today.

"Now, Harry, have you finished your tea?" Moony inquired. "Unless I am very
much mistaken, I believe your house will be having quite a celebration in your
common room this afternoon and into the evening. I shan't keep you from it any
longer - let's go back up to the Tower, shall we?"

Harry nodded, and he slipped the amulet Moony had given him into his innermost
pocket, where he would be sure to feel it warming up if his guardian wanted to
contact him. Together, they headed up to Gryffindor Tower, and Moony gave him
the traditional one-armed hug as he prepared to leave Harry in front of the portrait
of the fat lady.

Remus walked back down the corridor, smiling when he heard the cheers that
greeted Harry as he climbed through the portrait hole. Unless traditions had
changed dramatically since his years at school, the party would continue until the
Head of House showed up to put an end to it. He hoped it would.

***

The next week flew by with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the team continuing
to bask in the glory of their win. Harry's Wronski Feint was quite a popular topic
of conversation in the corridors, and everybody but the Slytherins felt that Malfoy
had gotten exactly what he had deserved.

Even Professor Dumbledore congratulated Harry in their next Legilimency

session, telling him, as Moony had, that his father would have been very proud of
the flying he had done at the game before they began. These sessions were
becoming increasingly difficult and exhausting as Dumbledore had begun
resisting Harry's attempts to break into his mind, and Harry had not yet been able
to gain entrance when the Headmaster's Occlumency shields were up, although
even the effort of trying was very tiring.

Only two things bothered Harry that week. The first, of course, was the prospect
of telling Ron, Ginny, and Hermione about the prophecy on Saturday in
Hogsmeade. The second was the odd manner in which Kinsley treated Harry in
their Friday dueling lesson. They went through all the motions of their normal
classes, spending the first half working on defensive spells, the second half
continuing work on dodging and feinting, but Kingsley seemed to be looking at
Harry in a different, almost calculating way. Harry did not know the Auror well
enough to comment on it, however; he simply hoped that he would reveal his
reasons eventually.
Harry had already arranged to spend the morning with Ginny in Hogsmeade, meet
up with Ron and Hermione for lunch in the Three Broomsticks, and then move on
to the Shrieking Shack to talk. He had not told his friends about this last bit,
however. All they knew was that he wanted to talk to them privately, but he did
not say where for fear of being overheard. All three of them had been giving him
curious glances all week, but they did not push him.

***

The morning of the first Hogsmeade visit was clear and cool, and Gryffindor
tower buzzed with excitement as the students above third year prepared for a day
outside of the castle. In the girls' dormitories, those who had dates took particular
care as they dressed and did their hair, and those who did not gabbed excitedly
about visiting the shops. The boys were a bit rowdier than usual as they prepared
for the day as well, teasing one another about their dates and eagerly anticipating
trips to Zonko's Joke Shop and Honeyduke's.

Ginny met Harry in the common room in time to go down to the Great Hall for an
early breakfast. Harry had asked that they go early so they could spend as much
time together as possible before lunch...it was their first real date, after all, and he
was looking forward to it as he resolved not to think about the prophecy until he
had to.

After a quick breakfast, Harry and Ginny left the Great Hall hand in hand, looking
forward to their day. Harry could not help but notice how pretty Ginny looked, her
hair tied back in a long, red-gold plait, her cheeks flushed in the cool breeze.

"Ginny," he said. "You look beautiful." He flushed with embarrassment as he said

the words, but she rewarded him with a huge smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Harry," she said softly.

"So, er," Harry began, finding that he felt more than a little awkward after that
exchange. "What do you want to do this morning?"

"Well," Ginny said with a mischievous look on her pretty face. "I want to visit
Zonko's, first of all. I owe Hermione one, big time."

"You owe Hermione a prank?" Harry asked incredulously. He could not imagine
Hermione playing a joke on anyone.

"We-ell," Ginny said slowly, a teasing smile playing on the corners of her lips.
"You know how Hermione's always on us to work on our homework?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. She was famous for it, and he still dreaded opening the
homework planner she had given him for Christmas the previous year, knowing
that it would squawk at him the moment he did with an ingenious taunt such as,
"Don't save it for later, you big second-rater!"

"Well, she was teasing me about, er, drifting off when I was doing my
homework...thinking of...other things..." Ginny trailed off, looking slightly
embarrassed.

"So what did she do?" said Harry, completely oblivious to the fact that she was
speaking of him.

"Well, she charmed the parchment I was working on while I slipped off to the
ladies' room," Ginny began, but she stopped, wondering if it really was a good
idea to tell Harry about what had happened. She didn't want to embarrass him,
and from her experience with her brothers, she had an idea what his reaction
would be.

"What did she make it do?" Harry asked with interest. Hermione was
exceptionally good at her charms, and could be extremely creative with them.

"Well, I came back into the library and started work again, but the essay was a
really boring one, and I started daydreaming again. When I had stopped writing
for more than about thirty seconds, my parchment suddenly screamed, for the
entire library to hear, 'Daydreaming about Harry is not going to get your work
done, Ginevra Weasley!'"

Harry stopped so suddenly that Ginny knocked into his shoulder. He was
mortified. "She did what?" he asked indignantly.

"Madam Pince came over and hit me around the head with her feather duster and
made me leave the library. Everyone was laughing," Ginny finished, tugging on
Harry's hand to make him continue walking.

"Oh, let's get her!" Harry said, trying to find the humor in the situation. He had to
admit that he found the idea that Ginny daydreamed about him
quite...intoxicating, but he was not at all sure that he appreciated having every
student in the library knowing about it.

They reached Hogsmeade a few minutes later, and headed straight to the joke
shop. They were the first customers in the store, and they looked for almost half
an hour for the perfect prank to play on Hermione in retribution.

"Harry, look at this!" Ginny cried as she came across the shop to show him what
she had found. In her hands was what looked like a normal, bright red folder. It
actually looked similar to a folder Hermione used to keep her assignments from
getting crumpled.
"What does it do?" Harry asked.

"Watch." Ginny took a spare bit of parchment from her pocket and placed it
inside the folder. When she opened the folder again, the parchment was gone.

"Brilliant!" Harry said. "But what happens when she tries to turn something in,
but she can't find it? We don't want to get her in trouble with her professors -
she'd never speak to us again."

"Oh, the next time she opens it, the parchment will be back again." Ginny
demonstrated, closing the folder and opening it once again. The parchment
reappeared. "It'll just give her a bit of fright, but it won't actually make her papers
disappear permanently."

"Perfect, Ginny." Harry took the folder from her and paid for it at the front of the
shop.

The pranking of Hermione dispelled any awkwardness Harry had felt, and they
spent the rest of the morning walking through Hogsmeade, their hands entwined,
looking into all of the shops and stopping to chat with their fellow students. Harry
felt sure that he saw Remus and Tonks more than once in the village, and he
knew they were most likely his guard, but at that very moment he could not find it
in himself to mind very much. He was having such a good time with Ginny that he
did not even think about his meeting with his friends until they had finished lunch
at the Three Broomsticks.

As Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione got up to leave, Hermione thumping Ron on
the shoulder for paying too much attention to Madam Rosemerta, the thoughts of
the prophecy once again settled into his stomach, and he went very quiet as they
walked towards the end of the main road in Hogsmeade.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny asked him as he led them around the back of the
Shrieking Shack.

"I'm okay, Ginny," Harry answered, but he was not at all sure that he was telling
the truth this time. He had put off telling his friends about the prophecy for such a
long time, and now that the moment had finally come, he found himself wishing
that Remus were with him after all. Harry looked around for his guardian, sure
that he was following them, but did not see him anywhere. He sighed. He knew
that it was probably best that he told his friends on his own, but he had been
sorely tempted to change his mind and invite Moony to come along.

Harry worked the charm on the gate, and they followed him silently into the
Shrieking Shack, Ginny looking around curiously while Ron and Hermione were
reminded forcibly of the night they had met Sirius Black in this very house. They
were halfway up the stairs when Harry remembered that he hadn't cast the charm
on the door to restore the wards. Asking them to go on ahead of him, he went
back down the stairs. The back door was slightly ajar, and Harry cursed his
stupidity as he closed it and locked it with his wand. He felt very lucky that they
had not been followed.

He went back up the stairs to the room in which he had met his godfather for the
first time, and he found his friends sitting side by side on the bed, looking at him
expectantly.

"OK, Harry," Ron said bluntly. "Talk."

Harry nodded and took a deep breath, sitting down in a very dusty, bedraggled
looking wooden chair. "There's something I need to tell you guys. Dumbledore's
telling the Order tonight, but I wanted to be the one to tell you."

Ginny suddenly looked very nervous. "What is it, Harry?"

"You know how you have been wondering why I'm getting all of these special
lessons?" They all nodded. "Well, it's not just because I keep getting myself into
dangerous situations. There's a bit more to it than that."

"We all know You-Know-Who has it in for you, Harry, because of what happened
when you were a baby," Ron said, thinking that was what he wanted to tell them.

"That's not the whole of it," Harry said with great difficulty.

"Harry, what could be worse than Voldemort being after you?" Hermione asked
kindly. She meant it as a bolster to Harry's confidence, a way to let him know that
they would be able to handle whatever he had to say, but it only seemed to make
him more reluctant to continue.

After a moment, Ginny said, "Harry? Whatever it is, just tell us." She didn't think
she could stand to wait much longer.

"You remember at the...at the Department of Mysteries, what the Death Eaters
were after? That prophecy?"

"Neville broke it," Ron said, but he, too, was starting to look nervous.

"I know he did, Ron, but that night, after we all left and you lot went to the
hospital wing, Dumbledore told me what it said."

"What did it say, Harry?" Hermione asked softly, and he noticed that all three of
them had gone rather pale.

"It was about me...and about Voldemort," Harry began.

"What about you and ...Vol-, Voldemort?" Ginny said, saying the name for the first
time in her life, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry took a deep breath and recited the words to the prophecy, the words that
had been haunting him since the beginning of the summer holiday. "The one with
the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice
defied him, born as the seventh month dies....and the Dark Lord will mark him as
his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at
the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...The one with
the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."*

Tears filled Hermione's eyes, and Harry could see on Ron's face that he was
trying to work out exactly what the prophecy meant. Ginny looked completely
stricken. Harry wanted to go to her, but he remained in his chair.

"Harry," Hermione said, the tears spilling over her lids and starting to stream
down her face. "Does that mean..."

"Yes," Harry said simply.

"What does it mean?" Ginny asked, her voice breaking slightly. She thought she
knew, but she hoped she was wrong.

"It means that I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort," Harry said, trying to keep
his voice strong. "It means that before this is over, either I have to kill him or he
has to kill me." He had rehearsed this line over and over in his head. Remus had
said that the best approach was simplicity. The prophecy was not ambiguous,
and if his friends were going to know about it, they had to understand it.

Ginny burst into tears, and he finally went to her, pulling her off of the bed and
into a tight embrace. "Ginny," he whispered. "It's going to be all right."

She broke away. "How can you say that?" she asked. "How can anything be all
right? Why is it you, Harry?"

"I don't know," Harry said, his heart breaking at the pain in her eyes. "But
Dumbledore and Kingsley and everyone else are teaching me what I need to know
to do it, and I will do it." His voice hardened slightly. "If I have to be the one to
stop him, then I am going to stop him. I'm not going to let him hurt any of you."
He had not meant to say the last line, but more than anything else, he had just
stated the reasons behind his determination.

Ron sat on the bed, his arm around Hermione, who was leaning in on him,
sobbing quietly. His expression was one of complete horror.

"You're going to have to do it?" Ron whispered. "Not Dumbledore?"

"According to the prophecy, I'm the only one who can," Harry replied, tightening
his grip on Ginny.

With a great, final sniff, Hermione sat up straight and looked at Harry, wiping the
tears from her face. "We're going to help you, Harry," she said simply, a steely
strength creeping into her voice. "If you have to be the one to kill him, then we are
going to help you get ready, and when it is time, we are going to stand and fight
with you."

Harry smiled a bit. She had just repeated, almost word-for-word, what Remus had
told him that summer. He felt Ginny stiffen in his arms, and then she, too, wiped
the tears from her face and nodded.

"You're not going to be alone, Harry," she promised. "Never again are you going
to be alone."

"Right," Ron said. "We've come this far with you. We'll go the rest of the way, too.
No way are you going to stop us, mate. Not this time."

Harry's heart welled as he looked at the three people he treasured most in the
world: Ron, his first friend, who had always stood beside him; Hermione, the
cleverest witch of her year, who rose to every occasion and had always been
there for him; and Ginny, his Ginny, who had always been in the shadows of the
other two, but who was fast becoming the single most important person in his
life.

"Thank you," he said softly, "But - "

"No buts, Harry Potter," Hermione and Ginny said in unison, and Harry and Ron
gaped at them. They sounded eerily like Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny looked at Harry, and her brown eyes showed no hints of compromise.
"You're going to need us," she said bluntly. "And if you think we're going to turn
our backs on you now and just leave it all up to you, you're mental."

"Mental," Ron repeated firmly.

Harry appreciated everything they were saying, and somewhere in the back of his
mind he knew they were right, but that didn't stop him from saying, "You all are in
more danger now that you know. I don't want - "

"Harry," Hermione said firmly. "Everyone's in danger now, and that won't change
until Voldemort is gone. Don't you dare think for one second that we aren't going
to stay right by your side. Killing Voldemort may be your destiny, but standing
beside you is ours."
His heart full of emotion, but somehow lighter than it had been for months, Harry
led his friends back out into the sunshine, and they stopped at the Three
Broomsticks for a final butterbeer before returning to school.

After the four Gryffindors were well out of sight, a pale arm grasping a wand
poked out from under the folds of a silvery invisibility cloak. "Secret Unsecured,"
the voice drawled.

Author's Note: The words of the prophecy are a direct quote from Harry Potter
and the Order of the Phoenix.

Back to index
 Chapter 25: Giant Mistakes by WriterLady

Chapter 25: Giant Mistakes

Molly sat weakly in her chair as Dumbledore's words faded into silence. Harry, the
boy she loved like a son, was the one destined to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named? She could not believe it...everyone had assumed that Dumbledore would
be the one to kill Voldemort. After all, hadn't he defeated Grindelwald? Wasn't he
considered to be the greatest wizard of the age? How could a teenage boy be
expected to carry such a burden on his shoulders?

Everyone in the room was silent, many of them pale and disbelieving. Of course,
everyone in the Order knew that the Dark Lord had been targeting Harry ever
since he had gotten the first vestiges of his strength back when Harry was eleven,
but they had always assumed it had been because the boy had survived
Voldemort's killing curse. Most of them had never given much thought as to why
he had chosen to go after Harry in the first place.

"Well, this explains a lot," Mad-Eye Moody growled.

"And you are certain that the prophecy refers to Potter, Albus?" McGonagall
asked, knowing the answer, but still needing to pose the question.

Dumbledore sighed as he looked at the astonished faces around the room before
he answered the Deputy Headmistress. "Yes, Minerva. I am afraid there is no
question. The prophecy is very specific. The one to defeat Voldemort had to be
born at the end of July to parents who had defied Voldemort three times."

"Was Harry the only wizard born that met those criteria?" Kingsley Shacklebolt
asked calmly, and Molly glanced at him. He had a good point, and she found
herself hoping that there was reason for doubt.

"No," Dumbledore answered heavily, catching the hopeful glint in Molly's eyes.
"One other boy met the criteria at his birth."

"Who?" Tonks asked, and everyone looked at the Headmaster expectantly, even
Remus, who had not heard this bit when Dumbledore had originally told him
about the prophecy.

"Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore replied.

"Longbottom?" McGonagall said disbelievingly. She had seen both boys in her
classes, and it did not seem possible that Neville would ever have enough power
to defeat Voldemort. Although Harry was a bit lax in his studies at times, anyone
could see that he was a more powerful wizard.
"What are you not telling us, Professor?" Bill asked seriously. He could see the
hope in his mother's eyes, but he knew that Dumbledore would not have made
this announcement unless he was certain.

"Voldemort himself decided which of the two wizards was the greatest threat and
made an immediate move to eliminate him. I am speaking, of course, of the attack
on the Potters fifteen years ago," Dumbledore said.

"And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal..." Bill muttered, and as she heard
her oldest son's words, Molly gasped. She had been so caught up in worrying
that Harry was going to have to battle the most evil wizard of all time that she
hadn't thought much about the details of the prophecy.

"You mean that when You-Know-Who tried to kill Harry, he marked him as an
equal?" Molly whispered. If this was true, there was no hope that Harry was not
the person to whom the prophecy referred. It was not that she wanted it to be
someone else; she just didn't want it to be Harry. He had been through so much
already, and if this prophecy was correct, it wasn't about to end anytime soon.

"Not intentionally," Dumbledore answered, looking directly at her. "Voldemort did

not have the full contents of the prophecy, and he did not know that an attempt
on Harry's life would mean a risk of transferring powers to him."

"You-Know-Who transferred powers to Harry?" George broke in, exchanging a

horrified glance with Fred.

"It is my belief that Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue and his natural abilities
at Occlumency were direct results of a transfer of power that occurred when
Voldemort's curse failed."

"But..." Fred stammered, trying to get a grasp on all they had been told. When he
had joined the Order, he'd had no idea of the weight of the information he would
be given.

"Harry knows about this?" Arthur broke in.

"He does," Dumbledore replied. "I told him the night of the attack on the
Ministry."

"Why did you not tell us this before, Albus?" Kingsley asked. "We knew we were
guarding the prophecy, of course, and it would have stood to reason for us to
know the contents of it."

"As Voldemort did not yet know the full contents, Kingsley, I thought it unwise to
repeat it unless absolutely necessary."
"Thank heavens the prophecy was broken, then," Molly said with some relief. "At
least we no longer have to worry about You-Know-Who getting his hands on it."

Remus glanced worriedly at Molly. Arthur, noticing the expression on his face,
asked softly, "You-Know-Who doesn't know, does he?"

It was Lupin who answered this question. "Voldemort was able to extract the
contents of the prophecy from Harry's mind during the attack on Harry's birthday.
It was what he had been after all along," he said heavily.

Molly's gazed snapped immediately to Dumbledore, her eyes flashing. "You-

Know-Who knows?" she asked, her voice dangerously steely. "He's known ever
since Harry's birthday? He's known, and we haven't?" Her voice rose in pitch and
in volume as she continued.

"Molly - " Remus began, but he did not get to finish his comment.

"Don't you dare interrupt me, Remus! Just because I am not Harry's legal
guardian does not make him any less mine than he is yours!" Her gaze snapped
to Dumbledore, and as she continued the pitch of her voice suddenly lowered to a
fierce growl, the sound of a mother whose child has been threatened.

"And you," she snarled, standing up to stare into Dumbledore's face, which was
strangely impassive. "You stand there high and mighty as can be, the infallible
Albus Dumbledore, the only one who knows what's right. That is not good
enough anymore, Dumbledore. You had no right to keep this from us! You-Know-
Who knew, but you still kept silent, you still let Harry bear this all on his own."

"Molly, dear - " Arthur broke in, a pleading note in his voice, reaching up to place
a comforting hand on her arm. Everyone at the table looked shocked, even Fred
and George, who had been shouted at by their mother regularly for most of their
lives.

"No, Arthur, you let me finish!" Molly wrenched her arm from his grasp and
continued to stare at the Headmaster, a fury unlike anything any of them had ever
seen burning in her eyes. "Ever since Harry's parents died you have taken
complete control over his life, and look what's happened to him! He spent ten
years with those monsters you call his family, being abused and neglected, never
knowing what it was to be loved, when there were any number of people who
could have cared for him, could have given him a home! You have turned a blind
eye as he has been placed in more dangerous situations than even the Aurors
have ever had to face. You have allowed him to be abused by your staff members,
belittled by the press, and put under trial for defending himself against an event
which never should have happened!"
Dumbledore finally spoke as Molly stopped to take a breath, his voice sad and
weary. "Molly, I do not claim to have always done the right things for Harry, but
you must understand that his survival was my first priority. I did what I thought
was correct at the time."

"As I said before, that is no longer good enough, Dumbledore," Molly snarled
viciously. "Harry's survival was your first priority, was it? Where were you when
his aunt and uncle nearly starved him to death as punishment? Where were you
when Quirrell almost killed him when he was only eleven years old? Where were
you when he was attacked by a Basilisk, and where were you in that graveyard
after the Triwizard Tournament? My children have told me everything that has
happened to him since he came to Hogwarts. Oh, yes, Dumbledore, Harry has
survived. No thanks to you!"

Furious tears ran down Molly's face as she finished. No one spoke as she angrily
strode away from the table and over to the sideboard, where she seized a knife
from the block and began fiercely chopping the first vegetable she could find,
which happened to be an oversized onion that she was to add to the stew for the
evening's dinner. Remus stood, about to go over and talk to her, but all four of
the Weasley men at the table held up their hands silently to stop him.

"You want to leave her alone, mate," Bill said softly. "She always gets to cooking
when she's upset. It's the best thing for her."

Remus nodded and sat back down while the rest of the Order members, some of
whom were not at all accustomed to Molly's temper, tried to recover so they could
resume the meeting. Dumbledore looked incredibly grave, but he did not respond
to Molly's accusations. He had simply inclined his head at her as she had stopped
speaking, and then sat down in his chair at the head of the table, surveying the
group quietly.

Snape, the only Order member that had not spoken at all through the revelation of
the prophecy, asked in a rather contemptuous voice, "And what makes any of us
believe that Potter will be able to defeat the Dark Lord? I have seen nothing to
suggest that he has that kind of power."

"Severus," Dumbledore began before Remus could retort, "I believe that Harry is
beginning to show power beyond anything we have seen to this point. Did you
attend the Quidditch match last week?"

Snape nodded, his expression disdainful. He did not know why everyone was so
impressed with Potter's antics on the pitch, and of what consequence his
arrogant showing-off was to the matter at hand. Being the Seeker on a school
Quidditch team was certainly not going to help anyone defeat the Dark Lord.
His expression changed, however, as he listened to Dumbledore recount Harry's
success at pushing Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy out of his mind, and the
resultant wave of magical energy that had passed through the entire pitch.
Remus was very uncomfortable with the calculating look that came into Snape's
eyes, and he made a mental note to discuss it with Dumbledore privately.

"I had a suspicion that something like that had happened," Kingsley admitted in
his deep voice.

"Were you at the Quidditch match?" Tonks asked.

"No," Kingsley answered, "But when magic that powerful is unleashed, we are
alerted to it at Auror Headquarters. After some research, I came to the conclusion
that the surge had come from Harry, but he did not seem to be aware of how he
had done it when I had him for practice the following week."

"Did you ask him about it?" Remus asked.

"No, I did not, but I watched him very closely. He seems to have no idea of the
amount of power he exhibited. I believe if he had understood the significance of
the event, he would have been more interested in how to harness it."

"Why didn't you say anything to anyone, Kingsley?" Tonks asked. "I saw you at
least twice when I checked in at the Ministry."

"I thought it wise to keep it to myself until I knew more about what had
happened," Kingsley responded. "I did not know that anyone else knew about it."

"If that kind of power is within Potter's abilities as a wizard," Mad-Eye said, "He
must learn how to use it to his own advantage, or it will prove dangerous."

Dumbledore nodded. "It is something I will discuss with Harry, and I believe it is
time that he and I progressed into wandless magic."

Fred and George openly gaped at Dumbledore. They had never met anyone with
the ability to perform wandless magic besides the Headmaster, who did it very
rarely.

"Wandless magic, Albus?" McGonagall said doubtfully. "That is well beyond

N.E.W.T.-level skill, and I know of few wizards who have ever been able to achieve
it."

"Harry has always shown the ability for wandless magic, Minerva, more so than
the average witch or wizard. Do not forget the things he has done before this time
- the incident with his aunt, most specifically. I am not suggesting that Harry learn
wandless magic - I am suggesting that he learn to control what he already has.
There could be a time when the ability to perform magic without a wand could be
vital."

"Why, Albus? Why would he need to perform magic without a wand?" Molly
asked suddenly, turning from her stew. She seemed to have calmed down quite a
lot, but there was still a fair bit of confrontation in her voice as she addressed the
Headmaster. Everyone knew it would not take much to set her off again.

"If Harry loses his wand in a duel, for example," Kingsley Shacklebolt answered,
"the ability to defend himself without a wand could save his life. I have already
been teaching him manners of dodging unfriendly spells, and in these sessions
Harry has not used his wand."

Albus Dumbledore was immensely relieved that Kingsley had provided this
explanation, and even more so when Molly nodded her acceptance of it. Very few
people in the world knew of the connection between Voldemort's wand and
Harry's, and Dumbledore thought it best to keep it that way. If Voldemort had not
found out the nature of the wand connection, it could prove to be an immense
advantage for Harry, and the less people knew, the less likely the Dark Lord
would be able to find out.

"What can we do?" Molly asked the room in general. Now that the stew was
bubbling and the tension in the room had lessened a bit, she was ready for
rational conversation again.

"We can teach him," Tonks answered promptly. "Make certain he is ready when
the time comes for him to fight."

"As it seems that he is our only chance to win this war, we'd best protect him
until he is ready," Moody added.

"We're already doing that," Lupin countered.

"Potter will need a guard around him even inside the castle now," Moody said.
"The wards around the castle are excellent, but they will not stop impersonators."

"We are not putting a guard on Harry while he is inside the castle," Dumbledore
spoke up at last.

"You do not think Alastor has a point?" McGonagall asked.

Remus was watching Snape, who added nothing to this conversation but had his
eyes narrowed, following the discussion's progress around the room. He was
growing increasingly uncomfortable with Snape's involvement in Harry's
protection, but he could not put his finger on exactly why he felt the way he did.
He was certain the Potions master was loyal to the Order, but not at all sure that
the man was concerned about Harry's safety or well-being in the slightest.

"We can't risk the boy's life before he fights Voldemort," Moody said plainly and
brutally. "Whether he likes it or not, he has to be watched."

Molly couldn't take it anymore. "Stop talking about Harry as if he were a weapon
in this war," she snapped at Mad-Eye Moody, who met her gaze unflinchingly.
"We're not going to 'risk his life' at all! He is a teenage boy. I don't care what that
prophecy says - as the adults in his life, it is our responsibility to keep him as far
away from the fighting as we can, to protect him!"

"Molly," Arthur said gently. "If what the prophecy says is true -"

"We are not about to let Harry battle You-Know-Who alone," Molly retorted, her
voice shaking slightly.

"Of course we're not, Molly, be reasonable," Lupin said.

"The fact remains," Dumbledore said quietly, "that in the end, Harry will be the
only person who can vanquish Voldemort. In the end, try and protect him as we
might, I am afraid that Harry will be alone."

"Don't say that, Albus," Molly said weakly, "just...don't say that." Her anger ebbed
away to be replaced by the raw emotion that had fueled it: her fear for the boy she
loved as her own. She sat down, the stew on the fire forgotten, and covered her
face with her hands.

"We cannot deny the fact that Potter must be made ready," McGonagall said. "If
he is to have any chance, he must be trained. I do not like to think of what will
happen if he is not."

"Harry will not fight until he was ready," Lupin agreed, his voice breaking slightly.
"If we cannot keep him from this destiny, we can at least keep him safe until it is
his time."

"Am I correct in assuming, Remus, that Harry told his friends about the prophecy
at Hogsmeade this afternoon?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes," Remus said heavily, "although I did not get the chance to ask him how it
went. Everyone seemed to be all right when they went to the Three Broomsticks
afterwards, however."

Snape's head snapped up. "Potter told his friends at Hogsmeade?"

"Not exactly in Hogsmeade, Severus," Remus answered. "I gave them the
passwords to the Shrieking Shack."

"You are certain they weren't followed?" Snape continued.

"Remus and I followed Harry all day, right up to the entrance to the Shack," Tonks
answered. "No one was there besides Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry. They
were alone when they came back out as well."

Snape made no further comment, but when the meeting adjourned a few minutes
later, he seemed to be in a particular hurry to get back to the castle.

***

Draco waited until he was all the way back to the castle and in his empty
dormitory room before removing his Invisibility Cloak. He was reeling with what
he'd heard Potter tell his pathetic friends in the Shrieking Shack and he knew that
he would be rewarded for coming to his Master with the information. He turned
immediately, intending to head for the dungeon chamber before the other
Slytherins returned from dinner, but he stopped before he reached the entrance
to the common room.

He already knows, Draco thought, his stomach sinking as his quick mind realized
the inevitable truth. That's why I'm supposed to be watching for any powers
Potter might be developing. The Dark Lord already knows about the prophecy.

Even in his disappointment at not being the first to tell his Lord this news,
Draco's face was set into a decided smirk. If Harry Potter was the only one who
could kill Lord Voldemort, then Draco knew without a doubt that what his father
had promised him would indeed come to pass - the Dark Lord would triumph, and
in his new reign the Malfoy family would be honored beyond belief as his most
loyal and trusted followers.

Draco had a hard time waiting until the next morning to begin the next phase of
his mission, but his father had warned him about calling attention to himself by
seeming absent from the day-to-day activities of the school. He had convinced
his friends that he was not interested in going to Hogsmeade anymore, but he
would have a harder time explaining why he wasn't at dinner.

Early the next morning, Draco woke before his roommates and silently slipped on
his Invisibility Cloak once again before heading to the main doors of the castle,
bearing a heavy package in one arm.

***
Albus Dumbledore was enjoying an early-morning cup of tea as he began
answering several owls he had received over the course of the night. As he
stirred his regular three lumps of sugar into his cup, one of the delicate silver
instruments in his office suddenly glowed red and began whirring. He rose
quickly and went to it, prodding it with his wand and sighing deeply when he saw
the results.

A lone figure strode purposefully into the Forbidden Forest, looking neither right
nor left, which suggested to Dumbledore that he might be under an Invisibility
Cloak because he did not seemed concerned about being followed. As Draco
Malfoy crossed the wards and disappeared into the dense woods, the
Headmaster returned to his chair, the morning's owls forgotten.

"Fawkes," Dumbledore said softly to the phoenix standing proudly on the perch
next to his desk, "I will need you to contact Severus Snape. I wish to speak with
him as quickly as possible." The phoenix disappeared in a flash of fire.

The Headmaster sat quietly in his chair, calmly sipping his tea, until Severus
Snape knocked on his office door. "Please come in," Dumbledore answered,
standing to greet the Potions master. "I trust you slept well, Severus?" he
inquired politely.

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape replied. "Might I ask why I have been called to you so
early this morning? Your phoenix seemed to feel that it was a matter of some
urgency."

"Fawkes has always been excellent at reading my emotions," Dumbledore said.

"This is an important matter, and one that should be dealt with immediately,
Severus. A few moments ago, the wards at the edge of the Forbidden Forest were
breached from the inside."

"Potter, no doubt," Snape replied.

"No, Professor," Dumbledore said, and there was a touch of severity in his voice.
"Harry did not breach the wards. He is, I assume, still asleep in his dormitory.
Draco Malfoy entered the Forbidden Forest this morning, carrying a large parcel,
and possibly concealed under an invisibility cloak."

"What reason would Malfoy have for entering the forest?" Snape asked, but
Dumbledore noticed that he seemed rather uncomfortable.

Dumbledore surveyed the man in front of him carefully. "That is what I was going
to ask you, Severus. Is there something you wish for me to know?" he prompted.
When Snape did not reply, the Headmaster sighed. "Very well. Severus, I should
like you to keep a very close watch on Mr. Malfoy. He still has time before he must
make his decision, and I have hope for him yet."

"As you wish, of course, Headmaster," Snape said quietly, but there was an odd
look in his eyes, and Dumbledore suddenly realized that the man in front of him
was carefully keeping an Occlumency shield up, although trying to be
inconspicuous about it. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, Severus, and thank you," Dumbledore said with a frown as Snape swept
from his office. The Headmaster was worried now - not about Snape's loyalties,
but about what situation he may have become involved in that would require him
to keep secrets from the Order. His job, after all, was to be the Order's spy, and
Dumbledore guessed that the stakes must be very high indeed.

Draco Malfoy was another worry. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was one of the
highest-ranking members of Voldemort's inner circle, and although it was a
known fact that underage wizards were not initiated into the ranks of the Death
Eaters, Dumbledore could not help but worry about that very event. Draco had
been raised in a family without love, as had so many of the followers of
Voldemort, and the desire to impress his father and to gain power in Voldemort's
circles would be a very great temptation for the young man.

Albus Dumbledore sat down at his desk and sighed heavily as he began sorting
through his morning mail once again. He was beginning to feel his age.

***

It was midmorning before Draco found Grawp in his spot in the forest. His heart
leapt in his chest and he almost dropped his parcel as he came around a corner,
exhausted and considering giving up, and saw the giant, standing nearly
seventeen feet tall, lazily plucking large branches from the top of the evergreen to
which he was tied and throwing them hard through the forest. It was perhaps a
good thing that Draco had yet to remove his invisibility cloak, because if he had,
the giant would have seen the boy shaking, his eyes wide with fear and disgust.

Malfoy stood perfectly still for a full minute, his heart pounding, before making
his way towards Grawp's paddock, reminding himself that the beast was tied up
and couldn't hurt him. He arranged his face into a confident smirk before he
removed the invisibility cloak and walked straight at the giant, stopping just far
enough away that the length of the ropes would not allow it to reach him.

"I bring a gift for the Gurg," Draco began as he had been instructed, careful not to
allow his voice to betray his fear.
The giant's gaze snapped to the small human standing before him, holding a
package wrapped in brown paper. His massive forehead creased in thought as he
considered this strange turn of events.

"Grawp not Gurg," he said slowly. "Hagger Gurg."

Draco had been expecting something of this sort. He bowed, rolling his eyes
when he was sure the giant couldn't see him do so. "I thought that someone of
your great size and stature would surely have been the Gurg of the Forest
Giants," he drawled. "I did not think it would be a small giant like Hagrid. I am
mistaken, and I will leave you to your game." These words sounded almost
scripted because he had practiced them so many times on his trip through the
forest, but Grawp did not seem to notice.

As planned, Draco carefully placed his package just within the giant's reach,
pulled on his invisibility cloak, and carefully backtracked his way through the
forest, barely holding in a shout of derisive laughter at the utterly stupid creature
he had left behind. His father had been correct. This would be easy.

No sooner had this thought entered his head than he heard the distinct sounds of
hooves rustling through fallen leaves of the forest floor, and he knew that he was
being watched. Draco picked up the pace under the invisibility cloak and
breathed a huge sigh of relief as he finally exited the forest to make his report.

***

Harry's friends had risen magnificently to their self-imposed challenge of helping

Harry prepare for his eventual battle with Voldemort. Although Harry noticed that
Ginny seemed to cling to him a bit more tightly than she had before, they had not
faltered in their resolve and had not given way to fear or to pity. They had made a
promise to their friend, and their newfound sense of purpose and determination
was secondary only to that of Harry, himself.

Harry had only communicated with Moony once, the night after the trip to
Hogsmeade. He had gone to bed after his nightly dueling practice with Ron,
Hermione and Ginny, and when he was digging in his trunk for his pajamas he
had seen the glow and felt the warmth of his amulet, signaling that Remus had
left him a message. He'd smiled, thinking again of the answerphone on the
Dursley's kitchen counter. The message had been short and relatively simple,
telling Harry that the Order was now informed of the Prophecy and that, as
always, they were there to help Harry if ever he needed it. Harry wondered how
long it would be before he heard from Mrs. Weasley.

Ron seemed to have decided that the best way to help Harry was to see that he
was in the best physical condition of his life. He insisted that Harry, Ginny, and
Hermione join him in not one, but both of the daily runs scheduled by Tonks each
day. At Quidditch practice he was equally unrelenting, pushing Harry to try new
and more daring moves on his Firebolt, enchanting the Snitch to fly at double
speed, and ordering the Beaters to put Harry through the paces even more than
they usually did.

Hermione, of course, began pushing Harry even harder in his studies and in his
preparation for the D.A. meetings. On her orders, Ron had rummaged through
Harry's trunk one evening to find the dreaded homework planner, and she began
writing Harry's assignments in it herself, both the ones assigned by their teachers
and adding her own, which were always focused on Defense techniques. While he
rather enjoyed the subject matter, he found Hermione's assignments incredibly
difficult and yet another strain on his time.

All in all, by Friday morning, Ginny was the only one of his friends who Harry did
not feel like locking in a Vanishing Cabinet for a week so he could get some
peace. Ginny had kept him sane, dragging him through the portrait hole for walks
when she could see him mussing his hair in frustration over his work, gently
advising him to go to sleep when she could see his eyes droop with fatigue, and
generally just offering her support without asking anything more from him.

Harry left the lunch table in the Great Hall to meet Kingsley for their weekly
dueling lesson feeling very irritated indeed. Ron had scheduled an extra
Quidditch practice for Saturday, and when Harry had finished his food and
shouldered his bag to leave, Ron and Hermione were too busy arguing over the
best use of Harry's weekend time to even notice that he was about to go.

"Look!" Harry finally exploded, trying but failing to keep his voice down. "I don't
need you telling me how to spend my weekend, all right? Are you happy with the
fact that between homework, Quidditch, dueling practice, and those runs I have
no time to myself, no time with Ginny, no time to even think about talking to
Moony? I have enough on my plate without you lot appointing yourselves my
keepers!"

Ron and Hermione had stared at him, their mouths open, looking hurt. Harry was
immediately sorry he had shouted, and he lowered his voice somewhat as he
continued. "It's not that I don't appreciate your help, all right?" he said, trying to
calm himself. "It's only that I have quite enough going on already, and all you've
been doing for the past week is adding to it."

"Harry, we're only -" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"I know you're trying to help. Everyone's always trying to help. Just lay off a bit,
won't you?" Harry could not keep the annoyance out of his voice, and before
anyone could say another word, he strode out of the Great Hall, oblivious to the
concerned looks coming from his friends and from the teacher's table.
If Kingsley noticed Harry's dark mood that afternoon, he didn't comment on it. He
and Dumbledore had talked, and they had agreed that the best primary testing
ground for Harry's abilities at wandless magic would be their dueling classes.
Before he did anything else, Kingsley planned on pushing Harry to his very limit
in hopes that Harry's power would manifest itself in an environment in which they
could discuss the effects and begin to work on controlling the magic.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Kingsley asked without preamble.

Harry was a bit taken aback. Although the Auror was always incredibly
businesslike, he usually at least greeted Harry at the beginning of the lesson, and
since Harry knew that the Order knew the prophecy, he had half expected
Kingsley to want to talk about it. He didn't press the issue though, and nodded
curtly as he stowed his book bag in the corner of the room. He wasn't in the mood
to chat, anyway, and he raised his wand in readiness.

"Harry, I believe we will conduct this lesson entirely without your wand," Kingsley
said, and Harry did not question him. Kingsley was extremely adamant that he
learn how to defend himself without magic, and the order to stow his wand was
not unusual, even if Harry was getting a bit tired of it. As usual, Harry set his
wand on the edge of one of the tables for safekeeping and stood in front of his
instructor, ready to dodge the jinxes that he knew were coming.

Kingsley was as relentless with Harry as he was with his Aurors-in-training, and
he could see Harry tiring after an hour of hard work. The boy had improved
beyond Kingsley's expectations, and he had been able on more than one
occasion to successfully dodge five full minutes worth of spells in quick
succession, all without the use of his wand.

For their final round, Kingsley decided that it was time to use a tactic that he
generally only used in the final Auror practicals. As Harry rose to his feet after
being reawakened from the Auror's stunner, he was not given the usual time to
rest.

This time, after Harry became too exhausted to dodge properly, Kingsley did not
use a stunner to end the round. Instead, he shot minor jinxes that brought down
Harry's physical ability, hitting him in quick succession with both the
Tarantellegra jinx and the Jelly-Legs jinx so that Harry was reduced to trying to
roll back and forth on the floor, his legs too weak to hold him and dancing madly
in the air as he moved. To his credit, Harry did the best that he could, but if he
had any hope of success, he needed his wand.

"Stop already, Kingsley!" Harry hollered in frustration after his body slammed
into a wall from a moderately strong banishing curse. "You win, alright?"
"You want me to stop, Harry?" Kingsley said, his voice calm but louder than
usual. "Then stop me yourself. Get your wand!"

"I can't!" Harry shouted.

"Oh, can't you?" Kingsley responded as he threw a locomotor mortis hex on

Harry, which, combined with the Tarantellegra jinx that had still not been lifted,
produced the effect of giving Harry's legs, now stiff as boards and snapped
tightly together, the weird appearance of a severe lower-body seizure. "I told you
to keep your wand in your pocket, not leave it lying away from you on a table!"

"You won't let me use it!" Harry yelled, getting truly angry now. What did these
people want from him?

"You have to get to it!" Kingsley responded. "You want your wand? You want to
stop me? Then get what you need, Harry!"

Harry felt a surge of power come up from his chest and he shouted the first
words he could think of, although he was certain it wouldn't work. "Accio wand!"
To his complete astonishment, his wand flew from the table across the room into
his outstretched hand, and in less than three seconds, he had removed the jinxes
from his body and pointed his wand at Kingsley.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted to the astounded Auror, and for the first time,
Kingsley's wand flew out of his hand. Harry had won the round.

Back to index
 Chapter 26: Progress All Around by WriterLady
Chapter 26: Progress All Around

Kingsley, finally satisfied that Harry could dodge as well as any Auror and better
than some, allowed Harry to use his wand in practice about half the time,
teaching him some of the more complex defensive spells, and practiced wandless
magic with him the other half, which was proving to be the most difficult thing
Harry had ever tried. Harry finally lost his temper in their session on Halloween
after he had been hit by a powerful Impediment Jinx for the fourth time in a row,
having been unsuccessful in his attempts to cast a shield charm without his
wand.

"Give me a break, why don't you?" Harry said bitterly to Kingsley.

"No, Harry," Kingsley responded seriously. "You have the necessary power to
duel wandlessly, and I am here to teach you how to do it."

"Let's see you do it, then!" Harry retorted.

"I cannot," Kingsley answered.

"What do you mean you can't?" Harry asked, confused.

"Harry, understand that the ability to perform focused magic without a wand is
very rare. Few wizards are able to accomplish it, and I am not one of those few."

This admission stopped Harry's protests as effectively as if he'd been hit with a
silencing charm. If Kingsley, one of the most senior Aurors in the Ministry of
Magic and the most effective dueler that Harry had ever encountered, could not
duel wandlessly then how could they expect him to be able to do it? When he
asked Kingsley this question, however, the Auror had assured him that he did
indeed carry this ability.

"Harry, if I had any doubts as to your abilities, they were erased in the few times I
have seen you manage wandless magic. I do note, however, that so far you have
only been able to do so when you are feeling a powerful emotion, or when you are
feeling desperate. That is what I seek to change – I want you to learn to harness
your power in a way that will allow you to perform magic wandlessly with little
more effort than you would expend if you used your wand."

"How?" Harry asked, once again overwhelmed with all of the expectations that
had been placed upon him. Until this point, Kingsley had goaded him into
performing wandless magic by pushing him to his very limits, until Harry became
angry enough or desperate enough to call upon his deepest reserves. He had
only managed simple spells even then – usually summoning charms to allow him
to get his wand, and once, a banishing charm that had sent one of the stacked
tables flying into the far wall of their classroom.

Kingsley sighed, and moved to their small table in the corner of the room,
motioning Harry to follow him. He had planned to move into this area of study
today, but he suddenly wondered if Dumbledore, one of the few wizards who
could perform wandless magic, would be better suited for teaching Harry.
Dumbledore, however, had insisted that the work on Legilimency was too
important to abandon, and had offered Kingsley a few pointers in Harry's
education.

As Harry sat down, Kingsley removed a small wooden eggcup from his pocket to
use as a lightweight object on which to practice. He set it in the center of the table
and focused on his student.

"Harry, how do you perform magic with a wand?" Kingsley asked.

Harry stared at him. "Er, you say the incantation and focus your intent on your
wand as you wave it," he said uncertainly. The truth was, even in all his classes,
he had never paid much attention to how his magic got from his mind into his
wand.

"It's hard to explain, is it not?" Kingsley asked. "Most wizards never think about
the focus of their magic on their wands – but that is exactly what you must do if
you are to accomplish your goal."

"Where do I focus, then, if not my wand?" Harry asked.

"My suggestion would be the tips of your fingers," Kingsley answered. "Or even
the tip of one finger at first. From what I have heard, you have to attune yourself
to your magic in a way that many wizards are unable to do. You have to be able to
feel your power coursing through your body, and direct it to your hands rather
than to your wand."

Harry nodded. He actually understood what Kingsley meant – during the times he
had been able to perform wandless magic, he had been able to feel a power,
rather like electricity, coursing through his chest and then his arms.

"Harry, I believe I am correct in saying that you have learned several meditation
techniques in your Occlumency sessions with Dumbledore?" Kingsley asked.

Harry nodded again. These meditation exercises had been the reason that he had
been able to keep many of his nightmares at bay since he had come to school.
"All right," Kingsley continued in his deep voice. "I would like you to close your
eyes and concentrate for a moment. See if you can bring yourself to a level at
which you can feel your magical energy."

"My magical energy?" Harry asked blankly.

"Every wizard has it, Harry. It is why we are able to perform magic. The difference
between you and others is that you seem to have the ability to direct yours with
less effort than most."

Harry didn't agree that he was any better at directing his magic than anyone else,
but he resolved to try. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the beating
of his own heart, just as Dumbledore had taught him to do. It did not take long
before Harry felt a small crackle of the "magical energy" Kingsley had described,
and, his eyes still shut tightly, he tried to push the feeling from his stomach into
his hands, and then through his fingertips.

Kingsley watched Harry closely, seeing his face relax as he settled into a
meditative state, and then tense with concentration. Suddenly, Harry's right hand
twitched slightly, and the eggcup wobbled, seemingly of its own accord. Harry
opened his eyes to see Kingsley nodding at him.

"Excellent work, Harry," the Auror said.

"But I didn't do anything," Harry protested.

"You did, Harry – even though the amount of energy you summoned was small, it
was enough to move the eggcup slightly, and you did it without having been
provoked. Would you like to try it again?"

Harry nodded. Finally, they seemed to be getting somewhere, even though he

could not quite see why making an eggcup wobble was such a big
accomplishment. Hadn't he sent a table flying just the other day?

"This time, don't close your eyes. Whatever you found within yourself last time,
find it again," Kingsley prompted. "Use an incantation if you would like to."

Harry concentrated on the eggcup, searching for the small spark he had felt
during his meditation. When he found it, he directed it into his hands, noting that
it already seemed easier to accomplish.

"Reducto!" he said intensely, and grinned when he saw a crack run the entire
length of the eggcup. He may not have reduced it to small bits as he had planned,
but he had at least produced a noticeable result.
"Excellent, Harry," Kingsley congratulated him, keeping his astonishment in
careful check. He had not expected his student to catch on so quickly and he
found himself wondering, not for the first time, exactly how much power was
contained within this boy. "Now, as you have seen fit to damage our practice
object, I would like you to repair it."

Harry concentrated hard before muttering "Reparo!" as he waved his hand

slightly towards the eggcup. To his delight and Kingsley's carefully concealed
amazement, the crack in the eggcup vanished, leaving it looking as good as new.

Kingsley took the eggcup off the table and replaced it in his pocket, having
decided that he wanted to discuss Harry's progress with Dumbledore before they
continued. "I think we will leave it here for today, Harry," he said calmly. "It's
Halloween, and I daresay that you might enjoy spending some time with your
friends tonight."

Harry shrugged. Halloween or not, he doubted that he would have any more free
time tonight than he did any other night.

"I mean it, Harry," Kingsley said. "You've earned a break, and I want you to take
tonight off. I release you from your assignment of working on your dueling until
Monday, and I believe Tonks gave her classes the weekend free from physical
training as well."

Harry nodded. What he did not know was that, on Remus's insistence,
Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Tonks had conferred and realized that Harry needed a
break. If he kept going at the current pace and had no time to at least try to be a
normal teenager, he would lose sight of what he was fighting for. Remus had
been rather alarmed with Harry's messages over the past couple of weeks,
thinking correctly that the boy sounded exhausted and at the end of his ropes,
and the others had agreed with no argument.

"Go and have a good night, Harry," Kingsley said. "Spend some time with Ginny –
I daresay that is a bit overdue." He grinned slightly.

Harry was a bit taken aback by this sudden attempt at levity from the Auror, but
he smiled back and nodded at him before gathering his things and leaving the
classroom over an hour earlier than usual.

***

Harry arrived in the deserted common room some time before anyone else had
been released from class, and he had to admit that his heart felt lighter than usual
at the prospect of a weekend without dueling practice or long runs around the
grounds. He would still have to do his homework, and there was a Quidditch
practice scheduled for the following afternoon, but he thought that he might
actually be able to act like a normal student, if only for a couple of days.

Harry decided to use the time alone to his advantage, and by the time the others
had come back from classes to get ready for the Halloween feast, he had
showered and dressed in a clean set of robes. He felt refreshed, and for once,
cheerful. The only thing that bothered him was that, for the past couple of days,
his scar had prickled more than usual, but he had kept his Occlumency shield up
and reminded himself that irritation with his scar was hardly abnormal. Even
though he hadn't had dreams or been attacked lately, it still twinged almost
constantly. This was only a little worse, and he supposed that Voldemort must be
feeling some kind of powerful emotion that Harry was alerted to through their
connection.

He shrugged off all thoughts of this as Ginny arrived from her Care of Magical
Creatures class, her cheeks pink from the cool air and her hair slightly mussed
from the breeze. Finding Harry sitting comfortably in his favorite place by the fire,
rereading Quidditch Through the Ages for the umpteenth time, she went straight
to him and pulled him up into an embrace, kissing him softly.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling at her.

"Hi yourself," she responded, and kissed him again.

"Oi!" said an indignant voice from the portrait hole. "Can't you two be decent?"
Ron entered the common room, looking a bit disgruntled at finding his sister and
his best mate embracing in front of the fire.

"Oh, Ron," Ginny said, sighing and throwing him an impatient look. "If you think
this is indecent, I feel sorry for Hermione."

Ron flushed and muttered, "Just because you two are dating doesn't mean I want
to see you snogging him, Ginny."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "This is hardly snogging, Ron, but I would be happy to
show you what snogging is if you want me to."

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, flushing with embarrassment.

"Come on, Harry. If Ron doesn't want to see us together, what say we go for a
stroll around the grounds before the feast? We have a couple of hours," Ginny
said, grinning wickedly at her brother, who shot Harry a warning glance.

"That sounds great!" Harry replied enthusiastically, avoiding Ron's gaze. The
truth was, he had barely had time to see much of Ginny over the past month, and
he was afraid she was becoming a bit put out with all of his obligations, although
she bore it silently and without recrimination.

"I'm just going to go and freshen up a bit," Ginny said loftily, leaving Harry and
Ron staring awkwardly at each other.

"Er, Ron?" Harry said. "You don't mind, do you mate? Only Tonks and Kingsley
both gave us the night off from practice, and I haven't really had time to spend
with Ginny lately..."

Ron sighed. As much as he loved both his sister and his best mate, he couldn't
help but be a little uncomfortable with their relationship. He knew that Harry was
not the first person Ginny had dated, but this was really the first time that he'd
really had to see her with someone, and it was definitely weird. "No, it's all right,"
he answered with difficulty. "Hermione and I were planning on spending some
time together tonight, anyway...just..."

"Just what?" Harry asked.

"Just, er, be a gentleman, okay?" Ron finished quickly, his ears flaming.

Harry would have laughed but for the uncomfortable look on Ron's face. He
wondered if Ron had been given the same admonition by Mrs. Weasley regarding
Hermione, and guessed rightly that he had. "Okay, Ron," Harry said as seriously
as he could manage. He knew his best friend was a little uneasy about his
relationship with Ginny, and he and Ginny had both agreed to try to be as
sensitive as possible, if for no other reason than to avoid the fights that could
ensue if they weren't. All of Ginny's older brothers were extremely protective of
her.

At that moment, Hermione entered the common room, looking harried, with
Seamus following closely behind her. Seamus ignored both Ron and Harry as he
had been doing ever since the Quidditch tryouts, and Hermione heaved her book
bag onto a table with a sigh. "You wouldn't believe the amount of homework
we've got for Ancient Runes," she groaned, and Harry and Ron grinned, knowing
that she actually enjoyed the work once she started on it.

"Don't you even think about starting it tonight, Hermione," Harry said firmly.
"We're all taking the night off."

"Harry, what about dueling practice?" Hermione asked. "I thought that after the
feast, we could go – "

"No way, Hermione," Ginny said, coming up behind them, her face freshly
scrubbed and her hair pulled back into a plait. "Harry and I have a date tonight,
and so do you and Ron, if I'm not mistaken."
"Yes, well," Hermione replied, looking serious. "We've still got a lot to work on."

"Maybe Hermione's right," Ron said, suddenly looking doubtful. "We should
probably still take a run, and then do dueling practice..."

"And then, Harry, there's a fascinating chapter I read in Defense for the
Defenseless that I want you to go over. There's a new spell – "

"Hermione, Ron," Harry began firmly, "Not tonight. I'll do my homework and go to
Quidditch practice, but that's it until Monday."

Hermione looked scandalized. "Until Monday? Harry, that's too much time. We
need to work!"

Harry felt his temper begin to boil. All he wanted was to spend some time with his
girlfriend. Why was that so much to ask?

"Look, you two," he said, glaring at the both of them. "Just because some stupid
prophecy says that I have to duel with bloody sodding Voldemort sometime in the
future does not mean that I have to give my entire life up to it until then. I'll do my
part, all right? I'll duel him, and I'll do my best to win so that all of you can be
safe. But this weekend, I just want some bloody time off!" His voice rose in
volume even as he tried to remain calm.

Tears of hurt filled Hermione's eyes. "Harry," she whispered. "We're not trying to
do this so that you can save all of us."

"No, mate," Ron agreed, looking as hurt as Hermione. "We just want..." his voice
trailed off uncertainly.

"We just want you to survive, Harry," Hermione finished for him. "We're afraid,
and this is the only way we know how to help you. We can't just do nothing."

Harry's temper dissolved as quickly as it had crept up on him. He knew that Ron
and Hermione were pushing themselves as hard as they were pushing him. "I'm
sorry," he said honestly, and he felt Ginny put her hand on his arm. She knew
how frustrated and overwhelmed he had been feeling, and she knew that guilt for
his outburst was already beginning to creep into his mind. Harry continued, "It's
just that you two aren't the only ones pushing me this year. I've got Dumbledore,
and Kingsley, and Tonks...I'm just worn out, that’s all, and I'm looking forward to
having a bit of a break. Kingsley said I didn't have to practice this weekend."

"Kingsley said so?" Hermione said, her expression clearing a bit.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Besides," Ginny broke in, "Harry hasn't been paying me nearly enough attention
lately. It's high time he did, or I might just have to find another boyfriend."

Harry looked at her, horrified, but was relieved to see the teasing glint in her eyes.

"So," Ginny continued. "Are we all agreed that Harry gets the weekend off?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry had a sudden idea. "Hang on, Ginny," he
said, and he ran back up to his dormitory with no further explanation.

As they watched him leave, Hermione said to Ginny, "You already knew how he
was feeling, didn't you? Why didn't you tell us?"

Ginny shrugged. "I know that Harry has to train and has to get ready for his
battle. You two really are helping him, but he does need a break sometimes, and
so do we."

Hermione nodded, and then said, "I don't know how you can think that you don't
understand Harry as well as we do, Ginny. You already understand him even
better, I think." Ron nodded in agreement.

Ginny shrugged again, smiling a bit. She had begun to realize as she and Harry
drew closer that she did understand him better than she had thought. She had,
after all, been watching him from afar during her entire time at school, and now
he was letting her past his defenses more than he ever had before. Her smile
broadened into a fond grin as her boyfriend came back down the stairs, his hair
as unruly as ever, hiding something underneath his robes. She was glad they
were finally getting a chance to have some time to themselves.

***

"Harry, what – " Ginny asked in surprise as Harry, who had been leading her
down the marble staircase towards the entrance hall, suddenly pulled her onto
the fourth floor landing, down a corridor, and behind a tapestry.

"Shh...close your eyes," Harry said mysteriously, and Ginny did, wondering what
in the world they were doing behind that tapestry. In a moment, she felt a cool
cloth settle down over her body, and then Harry standing close next to her, one
arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Harry, are we under your invisibility cloak?" Ginny asked, giggling as she
opened her eyes. They were not out past curfew or breaking any school rules, so
she could not imagine why he would feel that they needed it.

"Yep," Harry whispered, reaching out to push the tapestry back and guiding
Ginny slowly back to the staircase.
"Why?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Later," Harry advised, placing his finger over her lips. They walked in silence,
their bodies pressed together and the cloak wrapped completely around them.
Even though Ginny was entirely clueless as to why they were doing this, she had
to admit that she found that she quite liked the physical closeness that was
necessary if they were both to remain covered by the cloak, and she relished the
fact that they were walking through the entrance hall at five in the afternoon, but
no one could see them.

They stayed quiet as Harry led her around to the tree by the lake, the same tree in
front of which she had told him off at the beginning of term. He pulled her down
to sit next to him, carefully keeping the cloak around them as they settled
themselves comfortably on the cool earth.

"Harry, why are we under your invisibility cloak?" Ginny asked finally. "Please tell
me you're not going to start wearing this thing all the time...Mum told you to be
careful, not paranoid."

Harry laughed. "No, that's not it. It's actually something Moony told me. When my
dad and mum were dating, Sirius used to follow them around, waiting for a
chance to prank them. So, one night, my dad decided that he and mum should go
out under the invisibility cloak so no one could see them and they wouldn't be
bothered." Harry colored suddenly as he realized how this must sound, and he
didn't want Ginny to think that he was trying to...er...not be a gentleman.

Ginny giggled. With all the attention Harry had been getting from Ron and
Hermione, not to mention the D.A. members, the professors, and the Order, she
could hardly blame him for wanting to hide, and she thought it would be nice to
spend some time with him without the inevitable interruptions that apparently
went hand-in-hand with dating the Boy-Who-Lived.

"All right, Harry," she said, leaning back into his chest as though settling in.
"What do you want to do, then?"

"Er," Harry said, wishing he had planned this a bit better. Now that he and Ginny
had successfully avoided any prying eyes, questions, or distractions, he was
quite unsure of what he should do next. "I guess we could talk..." Ginny was so
close that he swore he could feel her heartbeat on his chest, and the feeling it
gave him was at once wonderful and terrifying.

"I think we've done far too much talking lately, Harry," Ginny said in a voice that
he barely recognized, and before he could really process what she had meant by
this surprising statement, Ginny turned so that she was facing him and kissed
him more passionately than she had ever done before.
Harry's breath came in gasps as he returned the kiss, shyly at first, but then with
more abandon as time passed. He was not aware of the several students that
passed them on the path around the lake, all of whom wondered at the strange
rustling noises that were coming from the area under the tree. He was not aware
of the painful twinge of his scar, and he did not think of the war, or of Ron and
Hermione, or of wandless magic or Legilimency – all he could think about was the
feel of her body pressed so close to his, the softness of her lips, the smell of her
hair...he was living nowhere but in the moments that passed under the tree by the
lake, so close and yet so far away from the world around them.

As their kiss grew more heated, Ginny's hands caressed Harry's back and ran
through his hair. He responded in kind, holding her as if he never wanted to let
go.

As the sky darkened, Ginny broke off with one last, lingering kiss, and leaned her
head against his chest, noticing how muscular he had become over the past two
months. She and Harry were both breathing quite heavily as they tried to recover
sufficiently to go inside for the Halloween feast, which would start in less than
half an hour. They sat in relative silence for a few moments, and then Ginny
turned once more to Harry.

"Harry," she said hesitantly. "I wanted you to know...that...well...I love you, Harry."
She said the words so softly that he could barely hear her, but even if she had not
said it, Harry could have seen it in her eyes if he had known what to look for. He
had never heard those words uttered directly to him before, and he stared at her,
too stunned to even smile for a moment.

"You don't have to say anything," Ginny said quickly, afraid that she had
frightened him. "I just...well, I had to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for so long,
but I was afraid..."

"What were you afraid of, Ginny?" Harry asked, but to his great confusion, she
didn't answer, just continued to look into his eyes, searching for something.
Harry didn't know this, but it was the first time she had said those words to
someone outside of her own family, and her heart was in a turmoil of emotions as
she waited for his response.

After a few moments passed in awkward silence, Harry finally whispered the
words, feeling the emotion spreading inside of him more powerfully than the
most potent magic. "I love you, too."

***

After making sure that there was no one near them, Harry and Ginny removed the
Invisibility Cloak before beginning the walk back to the castle for the Halloween
feast. They were both grinning harder than either had ever grinned before, and
they held hands as they always did, but the grip was somehow tighter than usual.
Before they entered the castle, however, Ginny suddenly pulled Harry to the side.

"Harry, you look a fright!" she exclaimed suddenly, fussing over his hair and his
robes in a rather motherly fashion. "If we walk into the Great Hall like this,
everyone will know exactly what we've been up to!"

Harry suddenly thought of Ron as he noticed that Ginny, too, looked quite
disheveled. He knew there would be hell to pay if Ron saw them like this, no
matter how many times he and Hermione had been seen in the same state. He
teasingly pulled Ginny's hair out of its ponytail and smoothed it awkwardly with
his hands until she gently slapped him away, put her hair back up, and fixed her
own robes. Surveying each other critically, they decided that they were
sufficiently put-together, and they joined hands again and walked into the Great
Hall.

To Harry, the Halloween feast was the best that had ever been held at the school
– the food seemed to taste better, and the formation gliding of the ghosts
suddenly appeared more entertaining than it had ever been before. After eating a
huge meal, Harry sat back contentedly, thinking of going back to the common
room to spend some more time with Ginny, when he suddenly grabbed his
forehead as his scar gave a jolt of pain.

"What is it, mate?" asked Ron worriedly. He seemed to be the only person who
had noticed Harry's sudden movement, as Ginny and Hermione were in deep
conversation and Seamus was pointedly keeping Dean's attentions away from his
roommates, trying to make it as obvious as possible that he still had not forgiven
them for picking Ginny and Meg as the Gryffindor chasers.

"Nothing," Harry whispered furiously. "Just my scar. It happens all the time."

Ron looked at him skeptically. Harry's scar did not seem to bother him much
anymore, and they had all supposed it was because of his Occlumency shield,
which, as Dumbledore predicted, Harry was able to keep up nearly all the time
now without consciously thinking about it.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Ron asked, still looking worried.

"Sure about what?" Hermione asked, breaking off her comment to Ginny mid-
sentence.

"Harry's scar's hurting," Ron explained, and Harry glared at him furiously. This
had been one of the best nights of his life, and he was not about to have it be
ruined by an argument about his stupid scar.
Hermione and Ginny both looked alarmed, much to Harry's annoyance. "My scar
has hurt on and off ever since the end of fourth year," he said, trying to keep his
irritation out of his voice. "It's nothing, okay? Just forget about it." Just as he
said it, the scar on his forehead throbbed painfully again, but he resisted rubbing
it.

Ginny looked at him closely, and then said to the others, "If Harry says it's okay,
then it's okay," she said simply. Harry smiled at her gratefully, and she winked at
him and turned once again to Hermione, pulling her back into their previous
conversation, although Harry noticed that it contained much less giggling than it
had before it had been interrupted.

The look that had passed between Harry and Ginny was not lost on Ron, who had
been watching both of them carefully ever since they began dating. "Harry," he
asked in a fiercer tone than he had intended, "What happened with you and Ginny
today?"

"Er, nothing," Harry said, trying to look innocent.

"You lying prat," Ron said half-jokingly. "Anyone can see that something's
different between you two."

"We just went for a walk," Harry said, trying to shrug it off and ignoring the
throbbing of his scar once again.

"Hermione and I didn't see you two anywhere on the grounds," Ron noted,
narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "We were out there walking, too."

"Oh, like you and Hermione would notice anything when you're on one of your
walks together," Harry retorted, trying to grin at his friend.

Ron flushed. He had to admit that Harry had a point. Still, the two boys were
rather awkward with one another as the feast ended and they headed back into
the common room, where they passed the evening pleasantly enough, playing
Exploding Snap and laughing a little too raucously when Dennis Creevey, who
had apparently been the butt of one of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, turned into a
large canary a little before midnight.

After Dennis had molted and returned to normal, Hermione told off Dean Thomas
and Neville Longbottom and then declared that she was tired and was ready to
turn in. Ron, Ginny, and Harry all agreed, and as Harry pulled on his pajamas in
the dormitories and closed the hangings around his bed, he had to admit that,
scar or not, this had been one of the best days of his life.

***
In a small village south of London, the stars twinkled peacefully in the cool fall
sky as the townspeople, mostly farmers and small merchants, slept peacefully,
not knowing of the danger that lurked just outside of their doors.

Throughout the narrow, cobbled streets, men in black robes and white masks set
themselves strategically in front of certain houses, houses which contained
people with certain secrets, people with ties to Diagon Alley, Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Ministry of Magic.

The silence of the peaceful town was broken suddenly by a loud, shrill female
voice calling "Morsmordre!" The few villagers that remained awake, consisting
only of three teenagers and a farmer who was concerned about an early freeze,
screamed in unison as a terrifying sight appeared in the clear sky – a giant skull
made of a chilling green light.

The inhabitants of the Wizarding houses in this village rushed out of their homes,
wands at the ready, dressing gowns and nightcaps flying haphazardly as they
faced what they had feared ever since the article in the Daily Prophet had been
published six months before.

Terrified Muggles ran for cover as spells began flying through the streets, but
they could do little to stop the masked Death Eaters from entering their homes.
There were a total of six Wizarding families in this village, which was far more
than normal, and which was also the reason that the Death Eaters had chosen it
for the attack. Most of the magical inhabitants of the town were viewed merely as
eccentric by the townsfolk, and had generally been accepted into the fold without
question. Now, the horrified Muggles feared their neighbors as much as they
feared the strange men in masks who had come to attack. The scene was one of
mass confusion as men came out the doors of their homes, holding shotguns or
pitchforks or any other weapons they could lay their hands on at this late hour,
boldly advanced, and then ran for the closest cover they could find when they
saw what was happening.

Hestia Jones lived at the end of the village proper and was the last of the witches
and wizards to hear the commotion outside. She and her husband came out at
once, brandishing their wands, but they found themselves immediately
surrounded. Out of the ten Death Eaters in their front garden, the Joneses
managed to stun four before they and their three young children were struck
down by killing curses.

When it was finally over, the bodies of each and every wizard inhabitant of the
town littered the streets, mingled with those of six Muggles and only one Death
Eater, who was quickly removed before the Aurors arrived, too late to do anything
but try to clear the damage.

***
Over two hundred miles away, Ron shook Harry furiously, desperate to stop the
anguished yells that had awoken everyone in their dormitory at half past two on
the morning of November first. When Harry finally opened his emerald green
eyes, he did not recognize Ron straight off and grabbed his wand from the
nightstand, holding it against Ron's throat.

"Harry!" Neville said loudly, as Ron had gone pale, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Harry! It's us! Put your wand down before you hurt Ron!"

Harry blinked as the nightmare receded, and he dropped his wand in horror. Ron
didn't move.

"I have to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry said loudly, trying to get Ron's
attention.

Ron glared at Harry, any remaining sleepiness long gone. "You had your wand
pointed at me, Harry!" he said furiously.

Harry's voice softened a bit – the fact that he had almost attacked Ron scared him
more than anything he had seen in his nightmare – and he said, "Ron, mate, I'm
sorry...there's been a battle...people are dead, and I was right there in the middle
of it. I wasn't awake yet. Ron, we have to go do Dumbledore. Please. We have to
go now."

Ron seemed to accept Harry's apology, and without another word, he went to his
trunk to pull on his dressing gown. As Harry did the same, he heard Seamus
muttering angrily to Dean, "Didn't apologize to us, did he? Potter has a nightmare
and it's straight to the Headmaster, isn't it?"

It seemed that those words were all Ron needed to forget what had happened as
Harry woke up. He rounded furiously on Seamus as he finished dressing and said
viciously, "What was that, Finnegan? You think Harry owes you an apology?"

"So what if I do?" Seamus retorted, jumping back out of his bed and advancing
on Ron. "Only this isn't the first time that prat has woken us all up in the middle
of the night, is it?"

Perhaps it was the similarity of those words to what Harry had recounted from the
beginning of the summer when he had woken the Dursleys, or perhaps it was
pent-up rage over Seamus' attitude about the Quidditch team, or perhaps it was
lack of sleep...but whatever it was, it seemed that Ron had finally had enough.
Crossing the distance between himself and Seamus quickly, Ron pulled himself
up to full height and shoved Seamus hard in the chest.
Harry pulled Ron back before Seamus could retaliate, saying urgently, "Ron, I
need you to come with me, now! Something's happened, and we've got to go talk
to Dumbledore. Come on!"

Harry and Ron rushed out of the dormitories, ignoring Seamus's rather rude
exclamation as they headed down the staircase and out of the portrait hole.

Back to index
 Chapter 27: Reward to the Faithful by WriterLady

Chapter 27: Reward to the Faithful

Harry and Ron ran at top speed to Dumbledore's office, not caring that it was
nearly three in the morning and not worrying about whether they would be caught
out of bed. Harry was desperate to tell the Headmaster what had happened, even
though he knew it was too late to save any of the people of the village. Ron, for
his part, did not really know what had happened, but the fact that Harry had
nearly attacked him when he woke up alerted him to the seriousness of the
situation, even though his shock had not yet completely worn off.

When they reached the Headmaster's office, Harry gasped out the password; he
was accustomed to running after all the training he had done as part of Tonks’s
class, but combining the tearing dash through the corridors with his near panic,
he found himself quite out of breath. They did not wait for the slow ascent of the
spiral staircase, but took the steps two at a time and pounded furiously on the
door when they reached the top.

"Come in, Harry," the Headmaster greeted them from inside the office, and Harry
and Ron exchanged a quick glance as they opened the door. How had
Dumbledore known Harry was coming?

"I am not surprised to see you, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, motioning
towards the two chairs in front of his desk. "And Mr. Weasley, of course. I am
glad you are here as well."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry began quickly, not wanting to bother with the
niceties, "there's been an attack –”

Dumbledore raised his hand to silence Harry, and regarded him for a moment
over his half-moon glasses before saying, "I was made aware of it, Harry, just a
moment ago."

Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore was fully dressed in dark blue robes
with silver moons embroidered on them, and he wondered whether the
Headmaster ever slept. "How did you know?" he asked, his voice slightly hollow
as the details of the dream resurfaced in his mind.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Hestia Jones alerted Auror Headquarters as soon as

she heard the attack began, and Kingsley, in turn, notified me. I am afraid that
they arrived too late, however. Harry, am I correct in assuming you saw the
attack?"
Harry nodded and Ron broke in, his voice worried. "Harry's scar was hurting
earlier today. But, Harry, I thought that your Occlumency kept you from having
visions like this."

"The link between Harry and Voldemort is very complex, Mr. Weasley,"
Dumbledore said before turning back to Harry. "How did you see this attack?"

"I was dreaming," Harry said confusedly. "Just like always."

"No, Harry, what I meant to ask is whether you saw the attack through
Voldemort's eyes and whether or not you felt his emotions while it was
happening."

Harry screwed up his face, concentrating on his dream, but he could not
remember feeling any particular emotion as he had watched the attack. His
emotions had not come into play until he had woken up and the horror of what he
had witnessed had set in. "I don't know whether or not I was seeing through his
eyes, sir," Harry said in frustration.

Dumbledore's glance flicked to Ron and then back to Harry. "Would you mind?"
he asked softly.

Harry looked over at Ron, who had a confused look on his face, before nodding
almost imperceptibly. "All right, sir," he answered softly, and he let his
Occlumency shield down for the first time in weeks.

Ron looked on in amazement as Dumbledore looked intently into Harry's eyes,

and no one spoke for a few moments. After the Headmaster had settled back into
his chair, Ron began, "What..."

"I have just looked into Harry's memories of the attack, Mr. Weasley,"
Dumbledore explained. "Harry, please be so kind as to put your shields back into
place. Now is not a good time for you to be vulnerable."

Harry nodded, and Ron watched with a look of dawning comprehension as he

saw an expression of intense concentration pass over Harry's face and then
vanish a moment later. He understood now that Harry had allowed Professor
Dumbledore into his mind, but he was amazed that Dumbledore had to ask Harry
to take his shields down to do it. Had Harry grown so advanced in Occlumency
that he could block even the Headmaster?

"What do you think, Professor?" Harry asked after he had rebuilt his shield.

"I believe you did see the attack through Voldemort's eyes, Harry," Dumbledore
replied simply. "However, now that your Occlumency shield has grown powerful
enough to block intentional attacks, I believe that you have also become able to
keep your mind separate from Voldemort's. You may be taken involuntarily into
his mind due to your connection with him, but you no longer lose your sense of
yourself. This is good news, Harry."

Harry gulped slightly before he asked, "And, Professor, what I saw...did it all
happen? Hestia Jones and her family..."

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore answered, even though he knew perfectly well that
Harry knew what he had seen was accurate. Sadness weighed his voice as he
continued, "Hestia Jones and her family did not survive the attack, nor did any of
the other wizarding families in her village, and several Muggles were killed as
well." He spoke bluntly, knowing that Harry was well past the time at which
events could be kept from him.

Harry looked down. Hestia had been a member of the Order and had been part of
his Advance Guard when he had left the Dursleys the summer before his fifth
year. The list of Order members killed in the line of duty had grown to three:
Sirius Black, Arabella Figg, and now, Hestia Jones; the list of wizards and
Muggles killed was becoming longer by the day. He knew he was not ready for
the final battle yet, but he felt the same flare of anger and cold determination that
he had felt after Mrs. Figg's death.

"Harry, do not let your anger rule you," Dumbledore said quietly, and Harry
looked up at the Headmaster, his eyes hard and unyielding.

"How can I not be angry, sir?" Harry asked fiercely, and Ron looked at him in
shock that he would dare to speak to Dumbledore in that tone of voice.

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, remembering another dark-haired

student from more than fifty years before. He had failed Tom Riddle, but he would
not repeat his mistake with this boy sitting in front of him with such rage in his
eyes. "Anger is a perfectly justifiable and normal human emotion, Harry. I do not
ask that you not be angry. I ask simply that you do not let it rule your life.
Remember to love, Harry, above all else."

Harry did not respond right away, and Ron watched the entire scene with
amazement. He had not had occasion to witness the new relationship between
Dumbledore and Harry, and he was quite taken aback by their openness. This
was definitely a new development.

"It's escalating, isn't it?" Harry asked finally. "He went to that village because
Hestia was there."

"Yes, Harry, the war will escalate from here. The attack on Mrs. Figg was not
widely known because she was a Squib, whereas this attack will be known
throughout the wizarding world. That particular village was chosen not only
because it was Hestia Jones's home, but because there was a sufficient number
of wizarding families to ensure that national notice would be taken."

"You-Know-Who wants us to know where he is now?" Ron finally spoke up.

"Voldemort," Harry began firmly, his determined gaze remaining on Ron as the
redheaded boy winced at the name, "wants us to be afraid of him. Fear is his
greatest weapon."

"Harry is correct," Dumbledore told Ron, "and as the war escalates, every person
who fears Voldemort will only add to his power."

Ron nodded his understanding, but Harry did not have to use Legilimency to see
the fear in his best friend's face. As Ron caught his gaze, however, Harry noticed
that there was also another emotion flashing dangerously in his eyes: anger. And
unless Harry was much mistaken, that anger was not directed towards Voldemort,
but towards him.

Dumbledore appeared not to notice the sudden animosity in Ron's expression as

he said quietly, "Unless you have any more questions, I believe you will want to
return to bed. Harry, please keep me informed if ever your connection with
Voldemort alerts you to anything else."

At the Headmaster's dismissal, Ron and Harry stood and Ron headed
immediately for the door without looking back. Harry glanced at Dumbledore
questioningly, but the older man just smiled sadly and said, "Good night, Harry. I
will see you on Tuesday, unless, of course, you need to speak with me before
then."

"Good night, Professor," Harry responded politely. Over the course of the term,
he had grown used to Dumbledore's attempts to get him to talk, but even though
Harry no longer felt any animosity toward the Headmaster, he felt no particular
desire to confide in him either.

Ron was waiting at the bottom of the revolving staircase, but said nothing until
the two had reached the Grand Staircase when he suddenly stopped and turned
to Harry, the tips of his ears glowing pink as they always did when he was angry
or under pressure. Harry, though, was unsure why Ron was angry with him. What
had he said or done to upset his friend while they had been in Dumbledore's
office?

It immediately became apparent that it had not been something he had said;
rather, it had been something he had not said. "Why didn't you tell Professor
Dumbledore that you attacked me when you woke up?" Ron demanded
aggressively.
Harry was startled. He had already apologized and explained himself to Ron, and
he had thought his apology had been accepted. Apparently, this was not the
case. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ron cut across him.

"I guess the fact that you could have killed me wasn't important, was it?" he spat
bitterly.

Harry felt his temper flare. It wasn't as if he had actually hurt Ron, and he was
making it sound like Harry had done it intentionally. He felt bad for what had
happened, but it wasn't as if he's been talking to Dumbledore about the weather
or anything ridiculous like that. "Ron, I saw a battle, not an ice cream social," he
retorted as they reached the seventh floor landing. "Hestia and her family are
dead, and so are a lot of other people." Harry's heart lurched as he said those
words; how many deaths would there be before this was over? Harry tried to calm
himself a bit as he added sincerely, "Look, mate, I'm really sorry."

Ron snorted at this, and Harry's temper flared again. "Ron," he said sharply, quite
ignoring the Fat Lady, who was glaring sleepily at them as they bickered. "I was
there, all right? At the attack. I just stood there, locked inside bloody sodding
Voldemort's head, watching it all happen, and then all of a sudden you're shaking
me and shouting. It took me a bit to realize what was going on."

It was a sign of how angry Ron was that he didn't even wince as Harry said
Voldemort's name. "It's a good thing Neville was there, or you could have bloody
well killed me! You should have told Dumbledore, you prat, but Merlin forbid you
let anyone know the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived lost control!"

"Don't call me that," Harry hissed furiously.

"Well, it's who you are, isn't it?" the Fat Lady interrupted haughtily. "Now, are you
going to give me the password or not?"

Ron and Harry didn't even hear her – they were too busy glaring at one another to
notice anything else at the moment. The Fat Lady gave a great sniff, turned, and
walked out of the left side of her frame.

"I'll call you whatever I want to call you," Ron said loudly. "Tell me something,
then. What if it had been Ginny and no one had been there to stop you? What
then, hero?"

"I would never hurt Ginny," Harry retorted.

He found out almost immediately that this had been the wrong thing to say. Just
as Harry opened his mouth to say he wouldn't have hurt Ron or anyone else
either, Ron began to shout. "So it's quite all right if you nearly blast my head off,
is it, but you'd never hurt Ginny! Thanks a lot, mate." Ron paused to take a breath
before continuing just as loudly as before, "Next time she can be the one to wake
you, then, if you're so sure you wouldn't hurt her –"

"Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed a very angry voice. "You will control yourself! Such
behavior!" Minerva McGonagall stormed up the corridor towards them, her lips
pressed into a dangerously thin line. As she reached them, Harry saw the Fat
Lady reenter her frame, looking smugly at him. He scowled at her. Things were
going quite badly enough without the doorway portrait telling their Head of House
they had been arguing in the hall.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said sternly. "Would you be so kind as to
tell me why you are standing in the corridor at this hour, shouting at one
another?"

Harry willed himself to speak calmly to the deputy Headmistress. "We went to see
Professor Dumbledore –"

"I am well aware of where you have been, Mr. Potter, and that is not what I asked
you," McGonagall interrupted. "I would like to know why you are shouting." Her
tone left no room for protest. Harry stayed silent. Ron had started this, so he
could explain it to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry was having a nightmare," Ron said, his voice tightly controlled. "When I
woke him up, he grabbed his wand and held it at my throat. He could have killed
me!"

"I said I was sorry, Ron! What else do you want me to do?" Harry demanded. The
truth was that, as he thought about it, he was horrified that he had actually
pointed his wand at Ron. What if he had hurt him?

"I wanted you to tell –" Ron began, his voice once again growing louder.

"That will be quite enough from both of you!" McGonagall interrupted angrily.
"Five points from Gryffindor for this disgraceful display! Mr. Weasley, I suggest
that, should you find it necessary to wake Mr. Potter in future, you do so from a
distance. It is only natural for him to be on the defensive if he has been forced
into a battle. Mr. Potter, I will wish to speak to you further about this tomorrow
evening. Now, go to bed, and not another word or I shall give you both
detentions!" With that, McGonagall turned from them and strode down the hall,
her tartan dressing gown flapping behind her.

"Carpe diem," Harry snapped the password at the Fat Lady, who was smirking at
them. Neither Harry nor Ron spoke as they returned to the dormitories and pulled
the hangings around their beds.
It was at least an hour before Ron's snores alerted Harry to the fact that he was
finally asleep. As angry as he was at Ron's attitude and what he considered to be
a lack of priorities in the face of Hestia's death and the village battle, Harry knew
that he could not risk a repeat of what had happened that night. As soon as he
was certain that he would not be overheard, he pointed his own wand at his
throat and whispered, "Silencio."

***

Thanks to a front-page article in the Daily Prophet the next morning, the whole
school knew of the village battle before breakfast was over. One Ravenclaw
second-year had lost an aunt and two cousins that night. For many of the
students, this attack brought the war into sharper reality than any other events
had done so far. For days, the entire school buzzed with anxious chatter, the
students feeling the first hints of fear. Harry and his friends, including Neville and
Luna Lovegood, suddenly became the focus of even more attention than usual as
people began to ask them questions about the Department of Mysteries battle
over half a year before. Harry was in no mood for it. He felt he had quite enough
to deal with, especially considering that his row with Ron seemed to be an
ongoing thing.

Besides to criticize his technique at Quidditch practice as much as possible, Ron

had not spoken to Harry all week, and this was doing nothing for either boy's
temper or concentration. Everyone that saw either one of them – teachers,
professors, D.A. members, and friends alike – could not help but notice that both
of them were running on short fuses and a severe lack of concentration.

Harry had gone, as requested, to speak to Professor McGonagall on Monday after

classes, but she didn't have any new information for him. She simply requested
that he continue to be diligent in practicing his Occlumency each night before
bed, and she suggested that he stow his wand in his night table drawer so that he
would have to wake up a bit more fully before he retrieved it. When Harry
protested, she reminded him rather sternly that the wards around the school had
been set up by Dumbledore himself, and they would know about any intruders far
before they got as far as Harry's bed. Harry had nodded, swallowing a retort
about Sirius having been able to make it up to the dormitories without detection,
but he knew he would no more store his wand out of his immediate reach than he
would eat a dinner of fried flobberworms.

Harry continued to cast a silencing charm on himself each night before he went
to sleep, feeling safer in the knowledge that if no one could hear him, no one
could try to wake him up. As long as Harry remembered to cast the counter-
charm each morning before he tried to speak, no one would be the wiser.

Hermione tried her best to stay neutral in the conflict between Harry and Ron,
saying only that she was glad Ron had not been hurt, and sympathizing with
Harry over what he had been forced to witness. As the week drew on, though, and
Ron's anger showed no signs of abating, Harry saw less of both of them, and
practiced dueling with Ginny only each night. He was glad to see that, although
she was not much of a challenge against him, she herself was improving rapidly.

Harry could not understand why Ron was still not speaking to him – he had
thought that once Ron had had some time to think, he would come around to
forgiving Harry. By Friday, however, Harry had been driven almost to distraction.
He knew now that there must be more to this, but he could not figure out what it
was. His classes weren't going well, nor were his Legilimency practices with
Dumbledore. He tried as hard as he could, but he could just not muster the
concentration required to break through the Headmaster's Occlumency shield.
When he wasn't having mental flashbacks to the battle, he was worrying about
his friendship with Ron.

Dumbledore, as always, was very patient with Harry, and chose not to dwell on
Harry's lack of concentration. He suspected what had caused it, and he hoped
that it would resolve itself with time. He had tried to gently press Harry to talk
about what he had seen, but the boy remained reticent, and Dumbledore knew
that such confidence could not be forced.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, however, was not nearly as forgiving. He had seen what
lack of focus could do to a person in battle, and he felt it was his responsibility to
make sure that didn't happen to Harry.

He watched critically as Harry raised a flawless shield charm with his wand, still a
transparent gold and impervious, Kingsley suspected, to all but the Unforgivable
curses. He nodded after his student had deflected or dodged three strong jinxes
almost effortlessly. "Excellent, Harry," he said. "Now, have you been practicing
your wandless magic as well?"

Harry nodded, but did not mention the fact that he had been mostly unsuccessful
even with the simplest of spells this week. His heart just wasn't in it.

"Stow your wand, then," Kingsley requested, and waited while Harry complied,
noticing that the boy looked a bit nervous. "Before we progress into today's duel,
Harry, we will practice a bit on objects around the room," the Auror continued. "I
would like you to begin by levitating that book." He pointed to a heavy defense
book on one of the tables.

Harry tried to concentrate, but he knew even before he had said the incantation
that it was no good. Neither student nor teacher was surprised when the book did
not move.
"That is unacceptable, Harry," Kingsley said, and Harry nodded. "You must have
more focus. That spell is one you have known since your first year, and you
would have been able to perform it easily if you had been practicing."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, and Kingsley did not know whether the boy was
going to argue, or explain himself, or apologize, but he did not let him say even
one word before he continued, "There is no excuse for this, and if you are not
going to focus, you are wasting my time."

This time, Harry did not try to reply, but closed his eyes and began his meditation
exercise. He knew Kingsley was right, and if he could not muster the strength to
perform such simple magic, he may as well walk up to the Dark Lord with a target
painted over his heart and say, "Here I am, you evil old git. Go ahead and kill me
now."

It took Harry several minutes to reach the level of concentration required to locate
his magical reserve and bring it under his conscious control, but he was finally
able to manage it. He opened his eyes and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!" To his
immense relief, the book on the desk levitated three feet into the air and floated
serenely for as long as Harry held his hand extended.

"That was much better, Harry," Kingsley said.

"But, sir, in battle I won’t have the time to do all of this," Harry said. "What's the
point?"

"Harry, you will learn to perform wandless magic with ease in time," Kingsley
said. "It takes practice, just as everything else does."

Harry nodded. By the end of the lesson, he had managed to levitate and summon
several objects in turn as well as to produce a shield charm, though it was much
weaker than the one he could conjure with his wand. As they were packing up,
Kingsley advised him to begin practicing wandless magic in his practice duels
with his friends, but Harry was not ready to let them know about that particular
facet of his training.

***

After a dinner in which Ginny and Hermione tried fruitlessly to start a

conversation involving both Ron and Harry and an evening in the common room
silently revising for midterm exams, Harry finally excused himself and went up to
the empty dormitory to try and talk to Remus. He hoped that his guardian was
wearing his amulet tonight, as he really hoped to have a conversation with him,
rather than just leaving him a message.
Harry got his amulet out of his trunk and pulled the hangings around his bed. He
held it tightly in his hand and concentrated on contacting Remus. He had found,
ironically, that the easiest way for him to make the connection was not to focus
directly on Remus, but to imagine dialing a Muggle telephone. Even though the
connection was not actually auditory but more of a form of telepathy, Harry
thought it was actually quite like its Muggle equivalent.

It seemed that luck was on his side tonight, and Remus greeted Harry when he
felt his own amulet grow warm. "Hello, Harry. How was your week at school?"

"Not so great, actually."

"Why not?" Harry could hear the concern in Remus's voice as clearly as if they
had been in the same room.

"Ron and I are still not speaking, and I don't know why," Harry responded. He had
talked to Remus the day after the village battle, and he had told him about his
falling-out with Ron.

"Has he said anything more? It doesn't seem like Ron to stay angry for so long
after you had already apologized."

"No, he won't say anything to me," Harry replied.

"Harry, friends will have their disagreements. If you have already apologized and
shown yourself willing to reconcile, you can only wait until he is ready to do the
same. I know how frustrating it is, but he will come around. Sirius and James had
rows quite often, actually...and they always made up."

This actually made Harry feel a bit better. Sirius had been the best man in his
parents' wedding, so he knew that their friendship had not been harmed by their
bickering. "But did either one of them ever hold a wand to the other's throat?"

Remus chuckled. "Actually, I quite remember a time when they did quite worse
than that. Sirius always had the worse temper of the two of them, and your father
made one crack too many about Sirius's latest girlfriend. I wasn't there at the
time."

"What did Sirius do, and how did you know about it if you weren't there?"

"Well, I found out about it when I found James floating near the edge of the lake
about three hours later. Apparently, Sirius had petrified him and cast a floating
charm, then put him out on the water. When he started feeling bad about it, he
found me and told me where to find James...he was afraid of what your father
would do to him when he was un-petrified!"
Harry laughed aloud, glad that no one in the dormitory was there to hear him. He
always enjoyed Remus's tales of his days in school. He felt like he got to know
his father, Sirius, and Remus better each time he heard one.

"So how was your lesson with Kingsley today?" Remus asked.

"It was hard. I've been distracted with all this stuff going on, and it was hard to
concentrate enough on wandless magic. I got it in the end, though, and I even
raised a shield charm."

"Harry, I am sure Kingsley told you this, but as you master wandless magic, you
will be able to do it more easily with time. Do you remember the amount of focus
it took your first year to do even the simplest spells? Yet, once you learned them,
they became second-nature. Do you understand what I mean?"

Harry nodded, and then remembered that Remus couldn't actually see him. The
clarity of the conversation in his mind made him feel so much as if they were in
the same room that it was easy to forget that Remus was not actually there.

"Yes, I understand," he answered. "I just hope you're right."

"I am," Remus answered confidently, never doubting Harry's abilities for even a
second. The two chatted comfortably for a few more minutes before Harry heard
his roommates coming up the stairs. He quickly bid goodnight to Remus and
tucked the amulet under his robes, hiding it from view. His friends knew about it,
of course, but he did not want too many people to be aware of it. Maybe it was
Moody's constant growls of "constant vigilance," but even though Remus had
told him only they could use them, he still didn't want them to fall into the wrong
hands.

***

"Has the giant received our gift?" the voice hissed.

Kneeling on the cold stone of the heatless room, Draco Malfoy tried not to shiver
as he answered, "He has, my Lord."

There was silence for a few moments, but Draco knew that Lord Voldemort had
not yet left him alone in the small dungeon chamber, so he did not get up even
though his legs were quickly becoming numb with cold.

"Were you aware that you were seen entering the forest both times you have
visited?" the Dark Lord asked suddenly, his cold voice sounding almost amused.
"I was wearing the Invisibility Cloak, my Lord," Draco answered quickly but softly.
If someone had seen him, he knew that he would be punished severely, both by
Lord Voldemort and by his own father.

"Yes, young Malfoy, I am aware of it," the voice responded. "The wards have been
strengthened around the castle, and I anticipated this complication. I am told that
fool of a Headmaster is the only one who has detected your comings and goings,
but that he does not believe you have sworn your loyalty to me yet. He is allowing
you to pass in hopes that you will see his way before you leave school."

Draco felt a surge of anger at Dumbledore at that moment. That interfering old
fool made it almost impossible to go undetected for long in the castle. He felt
another surge of rage as he wondered again who had told his Lord about the
breach of the wards, especially considering that he, Draco, had not even known
about it

"Your father will be sending you a second gift for our giant via post owl
tomorrow," Voldemort said, and Draco heaved a sigh of relief as he detected no
signs of anger in his master's voice. "I am not able to breach Dumbledore's wards
at this time, so I would advise extreme caution on your part in all other areas. We
would not want him to become suspicious." The threat was evident in his voice.

"No, my Lord," Draco said. "We would not."

***

The grounds were bitterly cold through the rest of November and into December,
and Harry and Ginny had to use their wands to melt a path in the snow on the way
back to the castle after the last Quidditch practice before the Christmas holidays.

"Harry, I know Mum invited you to stay with us over Christmas," Ginny said.
"You're coming, aren't you?"

Harry hesitated. He wanted to spend the holiday at the Burrow, of course – he

was quite eager to spend time with Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, but he
had two reasons for not having sent at owl back to Mrs. Weasley just yet. The first
was that he also wanted to spend the holidays with Remus as well. The second
was that, although the open animosity had diminished, he and Ron had still not
repaired their friendship, and he was not at all sure that Ron would want him to
go.

He chose not to mention Ron in front of Ginny, and he said, "Well, I don't want
Moony to spend Christmas alone at Grimmauld Place, so I'll probably go there."

Ginny glanced at him. "Mum's already invited Remus to stay at the Burrow as
well," she told him. "Didn't you know? She had the feeling that you would want to
be with him as well, and she doesn't like anyone to be alone over Christmas,
anyway."

"I didn't know," Harry said with some surprise. "Moony didn't tell me that."

"I reckon he wanted it to be a surprise, Harry," Ginny told him. "He was sure you
would be spending the break with us, and of course he wanted to be with you
over the holidays as well."

"I, er – " Harry began, not sure how to phrase his second hesitation.

"You're afraid that Ron doesn't want you?" Ginny said, glancing at him shrewdly.

"Well, yeah," Harry admitted.

"Don't be stupid, Harry. Of course Ron wants you to come and stay with us."

"He hasn't spoken to me since Halloween," Harry pointed out.

"When are you two going to grow up and talk to each other about it?" Ginny said
in frustration. "Besides, even if Ron is still being a prat, I want you to come to the
Burrow, Harry. Doesn't that count for anything?"

He squeezed her hand. "Of course it does. I just don't want to spoil Ron's
Christmas."

"Then talk to him, Harry. He can't still be mad at you for what happened on
Halloween night. He knows you didn't do it on purpose, so what's going on?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "But he is going to have to talk to me first. I'm not
upset with him. He's the one who won't speak to me." The truth was, Harry was
frustrated enough with Ron's silence that he had even considered using
Legilimency to see if he could find out why his friend was so angry with him, but
he did not want to invade Ron's privacy like that. He didn't like to think what
would happen if Ron realized what he was doing.

Ginny sighed, wondering why it always took boys so long to figure out what was
right under their noses. "Hermione and I reckon that he's jealous, Harry," she
said.

"Jealous?" Harry replied incredulously. "Of what?"

"Of our relationship," Ginny replied simply. "You've been his best mate for almost
six years now, and Hermione reckons his feelings have been hurt because you
spend so much time with me."
"I don't spend any more time with you than he does with Hermione," Harry replied
in confusion. "Actually, I don't feel like I get to spend enough time with anyone
with everything I have to do this term."

"I know that, Harry," Ginny replied. "But maybe he's worried that you don't need
him anymore, or that you care for me more than you care for him."

"That's stupid," Harry said bluntly. "There's no rule that says I can't date you and
still be friends with Ron."

"Of course there isn't," Ginny replied, the slightest hint of exasperation in her
voice. "Look, Harry, just talk to him. I'm going to be upset at both of you if this
stupid row keeps us from spending Christmas together."

Harry stopped as they reached the entrance to the castle and pulled Ginny into
his arms. He was being stupid, he knew. No matter what was going on with Ron,
he wanted to spend the holidays with Ginny as well. Now that he knew Remus
was going to be there, too, he had no excuses left. "Of course I'll go, Ginny," he
said softly, and he bent to kiss her softly before they went into the castle for
dinner. He had to admit that the prospect of getting to spend so much time with
her was rather exciting to him. He resolved to try and talk to Ron before the end
of term, to see if they could reconcile their differences and be mates again. Harry
had to admit that he missed him. Hogwarts just wasn't the same without having
Ron by his side.

That night, Harry cast his silencing charm as usual before he went to bed. He had
witnessed no further attacks since the one on Halloween night, but casting the
charm had become habit, and he had taken to casting it wandlessly lately. His
lessons with Kingsley and Dumbledore had improved greatly over the past month
as Harry learned to put his frustrations aside and focus the way he knew he had
to, and after Christmas, he and Kingsley were going to progress into soundless
magic and start putting everything together for some real duels.

Harry reinforced his Occlumency shield as usual, but he had not even been
asleep for an hour when the thing he had been dreading happened once again. He
had known it would; his scar had been hurting for three days now, but he had
hoped that his Occlumency shield would keep him from having to witness it.

"Who are you?" asked a small woman in an obviously Muggle household. "What
do you want?"

"You have nothing that I want, Muggle," Harry could feel his mouth move as Lord
Voldemort said the words.
"Then why are you here?" the woman continued boldly, but Harry heard a quiver
of fear in her voice. He could feel Voldemort's excitement as he did not answer
but pointed his long finger up the stairs to the left of the woman.

She screamed as she saw three men in black robes and masks come down the
stairs, each holding a struggling child easily in his arms.

"Allow me to introduce three of my most trusted followers," Voldemort said

coldly. "They have been performing their duties with unparalleled dedication, and
I thought it was high time they were rewarded. Macnair, is there anyone else
upstairs?"

The Death Eater holding the smallest child shook his head. "Only the three brats,
my Lord," said the raspy voice that Harry recognized as belonging to Buckbeak's
would-be executioner.

Harry watched in horror as the Death Eaters killed each child in turn, not with the
Avada Kedavra curse, but slowly, enjoying the screams of their mother as they
writhed in pain and howled in fear. She begged for their lives, offered herself in
their place, but to no avail.

When the children were dead, Voldemort turned to leave.

"My Lord, what of the woman?" asked the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Kill her," Voldemort hissed unconcernedly as he swept out of the house.

Harry awoke dripping with sweat, hot tears streaking his face, his throat raw from
silent screams. His roommates slept on as Harry quietly got up and pulled on his
dressing gown to make another trek, this time alone, to the Headmaster's office.
His heart pounded with furious rage as he walked, and he did nothing to stem the
flow of his tears – in fact, he barely even noticed them. Voldemort had had no
reason to attack that family. He had simply done it because he felt like it, because
his blood-thirsty Death Eaters wanted a reward for their work while the next battle
was being planned. Harry's disgust threatened to make him sick as he said the
password, went up the revolving staircase, and knocked on Dumbledore's door.

Back to index
 Chapter 28: Christmas at the Burrow by WriterLady
Chapter 28: Christmas at the Burrow

The atmosphere in the sixth-year boys' dormitory was very strained as Harry,
Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville packed their things to leave for the holidays.
Seamus kept to himself, not even talking to Dean. For reasons unknown to any of
the rest of them, his anger over Quidditch tryouts seemed to have increased
rather than diminished with time. Ron also remained silent, though he kept
shooting glances at Harry like he wanted to say something. Neville and Dean felt
very awkward and had long since stopped trying to make conversation. Harry
was silent as well, but for an entirely different reason: his voice was so hoarse
from screams no one had heard that it was actually painful to speak.

In the past week, Harry had witnessed two more attacks, but he no longer went to
Dumbledore about them. He just didn't see the point; Harry's visions took place
as he saw them so he was helpless to even try to stop the events from
happening. Besides, the Headmaster had very little to say other than inquiring as
to the level of Harry's intrusion on Voldemort's mind and reminding Harry that
although Occlumency did not prevent the unintentional connection forged during
the failed killing curse, it saved Harry from having to feel Voldemort's emotions
and, more importantly, it kept Voldemort from realizing that Harry was there.

Harry already knew all of this, and he found the Headmaster's inability to change
the situation extremely disconcerting. After the first attack, he simply spent the
remainder of the night lying in his bed and trying unsuccessfully to go back to
sleep. He wondered why these attacks had started so suddenly when relatively
little had happened over the entire term. What had changed?

Ginny and Hermione were very concerned about Harry's hoarse voice, thinking he
was coming down with a nasty winter cold. Since very few people actually knew
about the attacks that Harry was witnessing, and they weren't reported by the
Daily Prophet since they had happened to Muggles and the Mark had not been
cast, none of Harry's friends had realized that there might be more meaning
behind his croaky voice. Eager to keep his secret, Harry had visited Madam
Pomfrey for a Pepper-Up Potion at Ginny's insistence, and had spent the
remainder of the evening with steam coming out of his ears. Ron had actually
looked as though he were about to laugh, but he covered it with a cough just in
time while Hermione clucked at him impatiently.

Harry had wanted to spend Christmas at the Burrow for years, but now that he
was only one day away from actually going, his heart just wasn't in it. He only
hoped that he would be able to make it up with Ron while they were there,
because if Ron continued the silent treatment it was going to be a long few weeks
sharing Ron's small bedroom.
Harry packed his last pair of socks away in his trunk and headed back down to
the common room to meet Ginny for a walk around the grounds before curfew.
"Bring your cloak," Ginny had said shamelessly as he had gone upstairs to pack,
and now, as he rolled the silvery cloak tightly and put it in his pocket, being
careful not to let Ron see him doing so, he could barely hide his grin. His time
with Ginny had given him a whole new appreciation for his father's old cloak.

When Harry and Ginny returned to the common room almost an hour later,
Harry's cheeks were flushed, his hair more unruly than ever, and he no longer
had any reservations whatsoever about departing for the Burrow the following
morning.

***

Lupin, Shacklebolt, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and the twins greeted Harry, Ron
and Ginny happily the next morning as the Hogwarts Express arrived at King's
Cross Station carrying most of the students home for the holidays. The
atmosphere on the ride down had been festive as the young witches and wizards
relished the idea of having so much time free from examinations, and for Harry
and his friends, the mood was improved because Draco Malfoy had been one of
the few students to sign up to stay at school for the holidays. They had not
missed his customary visit to their compartment on the journey and had passed
the time pleasantly, gossiping about their fellow students and playing games of
Exploding Snap and Gobstones. Although Ron had never spoken directly to
Harry, he had not seemed hostile, and Harry had hopes that he would be ready to
bury the hatchet sometime soon. Even Hermione did not crack a book the entire
way back, preferring to spend her time snuggled close to Ron, who she most
likely would not see until after Christmas. Her parents were insistent that she
spend the holidays with them, and even Hermione could not say that she blamed
them after their summer had been cut short the way that it had.

Ginny grinned at Harry as Mrs. Weasley made a fuss over all of them, inquiring
about what they had eaten for lunch and how they had done on each of their
midterm exams. It was only after being swallowed by one of Molly's bone-
crunching hugs that Harry was able to make his way over to Remus, who
immediately shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, a broad smile on
his face. They were all very happy to see one another, but perhaps none quite as
much as Moony and Harry, who were still getting the feel for their relationship,
and who had both lost so much that they could no longer take for granted that
they would see each other again. Though the Weasleys were all saddened by the
losses of Sirius, Arabella Figg, and Hestia Jones, Voldemort had yet to claim a
member of their family, and they never seemed to doubt that Christmas and
summer holidays would always bring them all back together.

"How are you, Harry?" Remus asked quietly as they pulled away from King's
Cross in one of several Muggle taxis, the drivers rather confused and disgruntled
by the cacophony of sounds coming from the several animal cages and the large,
unwieldy trunks with odd crests upon their lids.

"All right, Moony," Harry answered happily, and for the moment it was perfectly
true. They had two full weeks without lessons, the snow was becoming whiter
and prettier as they left London and headed towards Ottery St. Catchpole, and he
had a pretty girl snuggled close on his other side, sleeping comfortably on the
rather long trip.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping well," Lupin prodded, noticing the bags
that were once again present under his charge's eyes.

Harry shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Just been staying up late with
revision and all," he commented, avoiding his guardian's eyes.

"Harry," Lupin said warningly, reminding Harry that he would accept nothing less
than full honesty.

"Everything's fine, Moony," Harry said with the slightest trace of irritation in his
voice. He did not want to talk about his visions right now. Was it so much to ask
that he just have the opportunity to enjoy the scenery and anticipate spending the
entire holiday at the Burrow with the people he loved the best?

Remus glanced sideways at Harry and his expression cleared a bit as he noticed
Ginny's head resting contentedly on Harry's shoulder. He could not resist,
however, adding one last comment. "Okay, but I'm here if you need anything."

Harry nodded, and then, casting about for a subject change, asked, "What did the
Marauders do over the Christmas holidays?"

Lupin grinned and settled himself a little more comfortably on the vinyl backseat
of the small taxi. "Let's see," he said as if searching for a memory, although he
had immediately chosen the story he would tell today. "The only Christmas that
the Marauders all spent together was the Christmas during our fifth year. Sirius's
parents had gone traveling, as had mine, and Peter's parents gave him
permission to come with the rest of us to the Potter's for the holiday.

"We started planning for it as soon as we knew it was going to happen. I think the
professors were actually rather taken aback, because during November we were
so busy with our plans that we forgot to make much mischief elsewhere. I believe
that James and Sirius only served one detention apiece during that time, for
sitting at the front of History of Magic and using their wands to shoot pink
bubbles through Professor Binns."

"It sounds like my dad and Sirius were always in detention," Harry commented
wryly.
"Well," Remus said with a smile, "not always. I do believe, however, that they
spent more time in detention than any other Hogwarts student has since."

"So, go on about Christmas," Harry encouraged, shifting his weight to get

Ginny's head off his collarbone.

"Okay," Remus continued, smiling once again at Harry's thirst for knowledge of
his father's Hogwarts days. "When the day finally came, even Sirius didn't need
one of us to get him moving in the morning. Potter Manor had a very large
garden, perfect for snowball fights and pick-up Quidditch, and the house itself
was huge. There was also, of course, the added benefit of neighbors with three
very pretty daughters, one of whom was a Ravenclaw from our year."

"My dad lived in a Wizarding neighborhood?"

"No, I wouldn't exactly say that," Remus answered. "As many wizards choose to
do, your grandparents lived fairly far out into the countryside outside of London.
You see, fewer wards and anti-Muggle protection measures are needed the
farther from the city you are. This was very appealing to many Wizarding families
as they decided where to build their homes. In this case, the Potter family and the
Davies family had a friendship that went back a long way, and somewhere along
the line, they had decided to build their estates on neighboring lots. As is
common among Pureblood families, the two households were also related to one
another through several marriages over time."

"The Davies family?" Harry asked. For some reason, the mention of the name
"Davies" had triggered something in his mind, but he wasn't at all sure what. It
took him a moment to remember the small brunette who had been sorted into
Gryffindor at the Start-of-Term feast, but he quickly rejected the idea that she
could have come from any kind of magical family. He distinctly remembered
suspecting that she had come from a Muggle background just as he had.

"Yes, the Davies family. The entire family was killed during the first war, at the
same time as the Potter's home was destroyed."

"Were my...grandparents killed at the same time?" Harry asked with difficulty,
realizing that he had never asked about his father's family.

"No," Lupin replied. "Your grandparents had James late in life, and they both died
of natural causes the winter before you were born. Lily was only a couple of
months pregnant at the time. The Davies were killed and your family manor
destroyed soon after you were born. There was no connection that we know of,
however. Unfortunately, the destroying of families and homes was a rather
common occurrence during those days."
Harry nodded, feeling the familiar surge of sadness and anger that accompanied
every bit of news he received about Voldemort's reigns of terror.

"Anyway," Remus continued, changing the subject quickly upon seeing the look
on Harry's face, "I remember Christmas morning of that year particularly well. All
four of us were staying in rooms near James's in the manor, and we were awoken
no later than 5:30 in the morning by Sirius galloping up and down the hall like a
five-year-old, shooting Reductor curses at each of our doors."

Harry grinned in astonishment. "Reductor curses? But I thought you weren't

allowed to use magic outside of school."

"Of course we weren't, but when was the last time Sirius was ever concerned
about small issues such as rules and restrictions? Besides, the wards on Potter
manor kept us rather safe in that aspect, unfortunately for Mr. and Mrs. Potter,
who had to deal with the fallout of everything we did."

Harry had a sudden image of his grandfather, who he imagined to look much like
he and his father, pushing back unruly, black hair and sighing good-naturedly as
he cast Reparo charms on broken items throughout his house.

Remus seemed to be reading Harry's mind as he smiled reminiscently and said,

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter were very good sports, but I daresay that from their
interactions with Sirius over the years they had some idea of what could happen
when they invited all four of us to stay for the holiday.

"Anyhow, that Christmas morning we were all awoken by our doors blasting to
smithereens, Sirius singing 'God Rest Ye, Merry Marauders' at the top of his
lungs, and Mr. Potter following him and making a very half-hearted attempt to get
Sirius to cease blasting the doors and go back to bed. Sirius, of course, would
have none of it, and we all knew he wasn't going to stop until we were all up and
in the lounge, ready to tear into our presents.

"So it was that the four Marauders and Mr. and Mrs. Potter filed down the stairs to
the lounge, all of us save Sirius still rubbing the sleep from our eyes, and when
we reached the door and began to file through, most of us had to do at least a
double take. Apparently, sometime in the night, Sirius had bewitched the walls,
the paintings, even all the furniture to bright shades of red and green, or metallic
gold and silver. It was blinding, and poor Mrs. Potter about fainted." Remus
chuckled as he recalled the garish colors of the normally rather staid Potter
lounge. Harry grinned as well - it sounded just like something Sirius would have
done.

"We all opened our presents. Knowing that Sirius would receive little to nothing
from the Blacks, who had all but disowned him when he became a Gryffindor, the
Potters made sure that he had as many presents as James. I can't remember
exactly what it was that everyone got, but suffice to say that none of us felt
neglected in any way.

"After we'd had a big breakfast and Sirius had changed the colors back to normal
in the lounge, we went out to have yet another snowball fight. Mr. Potter
confiscated our wands, saying that he did not want yet another complaint from
the Davies, who had grown quite tired of enchanted, multicolored snowballs
hitting their daughters' windows at all hours of the day and night.

"It seemed nothing could ruin Sirius's mood. As soon as we were a safe distance
away from prying eyes, he transformed into Padfoot and rolled around in the
snow like an idiot, and before any of us could stop him, he was bounding through
the garden and over the hedge that separated the Potter's property from the
Davies's. What he didn't realize at the time was that Camilla Davies, the youngest
of the sisters, had seen him transform more than once and knew our secret.

"James did not transform at the time, being at least slightly more cautious than
Sirius, and Peter didn't transform because it was extremely hard for a rat to run
through deep snow. I, of course, never had the option of whether or not to
transform. Anyway, needless to say, Sirius ran out of our line of sight almost
immediately, and by the time we reached the Davies there wasn't a sign of him
anywhere."

"He didn't go into the house, did he?" Ginny asked, sitting up suddenly, and
Harry laughed. Her eyes were bright and alert, and it was immediately obvious
that she had only been feigning sleep in order to give him and Remus a sense of
privacy.

"No," Lupin replied, laughing along with Harry. "We found him about half an hour
later, wearing a bright red harness and chained to a peg that was driven into the
ground. From the prints on the snow, it was obvious that he had tried to
transform into his human form, but because of the constraints of the harness
around his torso, he was unable to do it."

"The Davies girls just left him there on his own?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"Out in the snow?"

"Oh, no," Remus assured her, his eyes twinkling very much like Dumbledore's
often did. "Although I assume he probably wished that they had. The Davies girls
could obviously give as well as they got, which was something we hadn't realized
until that very moment. All three of the girls were standing right in Sirius's line of
sight, bewitching snowballs to fly straight at him without mercy and occasionally
letting loose with some other minor yet very annoying curses. Can you imagine
suffering a bat-bogey hex without being able to use your hands to swipe the
things away?"
All three of them burst into laughter at the thought of the large black dog with
giant flying bogies attacking his face, but Ginny noticed the sudden look of
sadness cross Harry's features and she reached out and squeezed his hand
comfortingly. "Hey," she said softly, as Remus watched the exchange, "this is the
way that Sirius would want to be remembered, isn't it?"

Harry nodded and smiled at her in thanks, squeezing her hand back. The three
rode in companionable silence the rest of the way to the Burrow, and Harry
pretended he didn't notice as Remus performed a mild memory charm on the
driver after he had unloaded their trunks and animal cages in front of the
ramshackle old house that had been the Weasley's home for years. As he lugged
his trunk up the stairs to Ron's room, he resolved to talk to Ron as soon as he
had the opportunity. The Weasleys felt like family to him, every last one of them,
and he had no intention of letting anything stand in the way of that for one
moment longer.

After Harry and Ron had silently organized their things, keeping their backs
carefully turned towards each other, Harry stole a glance at the closed door.
Having convinced himself that they were alone, he finally broached the subject
which had been bothering him for over a week.

"Er, Ron?" he ventured tentatively, hoping not to cause an explosion of Weasley

temper.

Ron showed no signs of anger as he turned towards Harry, a guardedly hopeful

expression crossing his freckled face. "Yeah, Harry?"

"Look, I'm really sorry about what happened, okay? When I, er, held my wand on
you and stuff."

"You mean when you almost killed me?" Ron asked, and Harry was about to
retort angrily when he caught the half-smile on Ron's face. "It's all right, mate,"
Ron continued somewhat bracingly.

"I really am -" Harry continued.

"No one else has to deal with the stuff you have to deal with," Ron replied, and
Harry must have looked surprised at this abrupt change in attitude because Ron
hurriedly said, "Hermione made me think about what it would be like to be in the
middle of something like that."

"She did?" Harry asked, because generally Ron's and Hermione's attitudes on
feelings and emotions differed greatly and they found no middle ground.
"Well, yeah," Ron admitted, looking a bit awkward now. "I mean, you told us
about the prophecy. We know what you have to do, and you are not going to shut
us out. We've always been there before. This is no different."

"If you feel like that, why did you wait so long to make it up?" Harry asked.

"I...erm…" Ron started, and Harry noticed the tips of his ears begin to turn red.

"Out with it," Harry said firmly, sure that at last he was going to find out why Ron
had stayed angry with him for so long.

"I just reckoned you had Ginny and you didn't need anyone else," Ron muttered.

Harry stared at his best friend, who was determinedly avoiding any eye contact.
"You're mental," Harry said firmly. "Do you have any idea what it's been like,
spending time with no one but Ginny and Hermione?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah, I guess I do," he said, no longer looking embarrassed.

"Ginny is my sister, after all. Tell me, has she bat-bogeyed you yet? Just wait..."

***

The last few days before Christmas Day passed in a blur of snowball fights, ice
skating on the small pond behind the Burrow, and surreptitious owl orders being
carried out at all hours by Pigwidgeon, Sammy, and of course Hedwig. The
holiday spirit was in the air, and thoughts of war and death were pushed aside for
everyone at the rickety old house. Everyone, that is, besides Harry, who was still
forced to cast silencing charms on himself before he slept each night to avoid
waking the others. Although Harry was certain that Voldemort had not detected
his presence during the almost nightly attacks on Muggle families, no amount of
Occlumency Harry could employ seemed to be able to keep him where he
belonged, on the small cot in Ron's bedroom at the Burrow.

Harry's hoarse voice each morning concerned Mrs. Weasley greatly, and as she
had promised herself to treat Harry just like one of her own, she dosed him up
with Pepper-Up Potion and tried to insist that he stay inside. Harry took the
potion and tried to ignore the steam coming out of his ears, but he was glad when
Ginny intervened and convinced her mother that to keep Harry inside for all of his
Christmas holidays would be nothing less than criminal.

Although the Dark Mark had not been cast over any of the Muggle homes, the
Daily Prophet had finally gotten wind of what was happening, and the Christmas
Eve headline proclaimed in large letters, "Death Eaters Run Rampant: Muggle
Attacks Increase." As a result, when Harry, who was always last to come
downstairs due to the necessity of casting the counter-charm on himself before
he spoke to anyone, arrived in the kitchen on Christmas Eve morning with his
voice as croaky as ever, he was greeted by solemn stares from everyone and a
particularly penetrating gaze from Lupin. Arthur, the twins, Bill and Charlie were
not present, but Harry was used to this. He often arrived at table after the rest of
them had gone.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked groggily; he had been up most of the night, but was
not yet aware that anyone else knew about the attacks.

"Harry, it's so terrible," Hermione began breathlessly, shoving her copy of the
Daily Prophet at him as he sat down. She was visiting for Christmas Eve, having
finally convinced her parents that letting her go for one day could not have too
many ill effects. Lupin watched Harry carefully as he skimmed the front-page
article and was not surprised when Harry showed no emotion or outrage at the
news.

"It's like what happened that one night, Harry," Ron said carefully. Both of them
still avoided the subject of their argument as much as possible.

"Yeah," Harry said shortly, and everyone at the table noticed that his voice was
almost nonexistent. Mrs. Weasley passed him a plate of kippers, but he shook his
head almost imperceptibly and got up from the table. "I'm not hungry, Mrs.
Weasley, but thanks," he said quietly, and went back up the stairs to Ron's room.

Ginny rose at once to follow him, as did Ron and Hermione, but Lupin motioned
for all of them to stay seated as he himself rose and took his plate to the sink,
where the scrubbing brush immediately went to work scrubbing off the
remainders of his breakfast. "Let me talk to him," he requested, and before
anyone could protest, he left the room quietly.

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley, all of
whom had reseated themselves at the table, looking nervous.

"Oh, Ron, isn't it obvious?" Ginny snapped before anyone else could reply.
"Harry didn't just see that one attack; he's been seeing all of them."

"No, he hasn't," Ron protested. "I've been in the same room as him every night.
He never makes a sound."

"That doesn't make any sense," Hermione pondered. "Hasn't he always woken up
when he has these...these...dreams, or visions?"

"Yes," Ron answered, still looking confused.

"Unless..." Hermione said quietly, and it was obvious to the others that whatever
she was thinking disturbed her greatly.
"Unless what, dear?" Mrs. Weasley prompted after Hermione had not continued
for a few moments.

"How long has his voice been like that, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"On and off for a couple of weeks," Ginny answered, and Hermione nodded in
confirmation.

"Ever since the first attack?" Hermione prompted, and Ginny nodded.

Mrs. Weasley gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, no," she
whispered. "Oh, that poor dear."

"What?" Ron asked, helping himself to another kipper as everyone else at the
table looked towards the stairs, their expressions a mixture of horror and pity.

Hermione sighed, returning her gaze to her boyfriend. "Isn't it obvious, Ron?"

"Will everyone stop saying that and just tell me what in the bloody hell is going
on?" Ron asked hotly.

"Harry's seen all of the attacks," Hermione repeated, and before Ron could
disagree, she continued, "and he must be casting a silencing charm on himself
before he goes to bed so you won't hear him if he wakes up. It's why his voice
has been so hoarse."

"Come off it," Ron said. "Harry would never -"

"It's exactly the sort of thing Harry would do," Ginny said angrily, "especially after
what happened that first night. You wouldn't speak to him for days because of
something he couldn't even help."

"He held his wand on me, Ginny!" Ron countered hotly. "Who wouldn't have had
a problem with that? Besides, we're all right now."

"It's because of you that he wouldn't tell anyone!" Ginny shouted, jumping up
from her chair. "You made him think it would be dangerous for anyone to help
him, and now we find out he's been seeing these horrid attacks almost every
night, and watching families and children die terrible deaths right in front of him,
and because you decided you would be stupid and act all injured, he's thought he
had to do it alone! You disgust me, Ronald Weasley!"

Ron gaped at her and stood up so quickly that his chair toppled backward, but
once he was up, it didn't seem like he could figure out exactly what to say.
Ginny didn't give him a chance to gather his thoughts, and her voice rose in pitch
as she continued shouting at him, ignoring the reproachful looks from her
mother. "In case you have forgotten, Ron, we promised him we would help him!
When he told us about that prophecy, we swore we'd stay with him, fight with
him, no matter what! Some friend you are," she raged, her face coloring
brilliantly. "You swore to fight alongside him, to help him, and at the first sign of
difficulty you not only leave him alone, but you start a row with him!"

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, standing up and banging her hands on the table.
"Do you think this is helping Harry?"

"Maybe not," Ginny said, struggling to control her voice as she turned to face her
mother. "But it's high time someone helped him." With that, she turned from all of
them and ran up the stairs.

"The first sign of difficulty?" Ron asked incredulously, and Molly and Hermione
both turned to him, expressions of mixed pity and annoyance on each of their
faces.

***

Lupin walked quietly up the flights of stairs leading to Ron's small bedroom and
was slightly surprised when he saw that Harry had left the door open, and was
sitting on his cot, staring out in front of him blankly.

"Harry?" he asked quietly, entering the room and closing the door behind him.
"You want to tell me what's been going on?"

"Nothing," Harry answered dully.

"That's not true and you know it," Lupin prodded, taking a seat at the end of the
cot and looking at Harry with the intense gaze that Harry had come to dread.
"You've seen all of the attacks, haven't you?"

"Yes," Harry answered simply.

"Harry, why didn't you tell anyone?" Lupin asked. "Why didn't you tell me or
Professor Dumbledore, or even Hermione, Ron, or Ginny?"

"Dumbledore can't help with this," Harry replied, and his voice began to take on a
bitter tone as he continued. "He said my Occlumency kept Voldemort from
knowing I was there, and kept me from having to feel his emotion, but that the
connection couldn't be cut off entirely."

"That makes sense," Lupin said. "The failed curse seems to have created quite a
link between the two of you."
"There was nothing I could do about it," Harry spat. "They killed all those people,
and I just stood there and watched it happen. No one could stop it. Not me, not
Dumbledore, and I almost killed my best friend because he happened to be there
when I woke up."

"You didn't almost kill him, Harry," Lupin corrected him. "You didn't do anything
to him."

"Yeah, well, what if I had?"

Lupin was saved from answering this question by the door slamming open to
reveal Ginny, her face flushed. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, her tone leaving
no room for protest, "but you've had your chance." She turned to face Harry.
"Come on, get your cloak. We're going out."

"Ginny," Moony began as Harry grabbed his winter cloak, but Ginny paid him no
heed.

"Yes, get your winter things on, Harry," she said firmly. "But we're taking the
invisibility cloak, too. You need to get away from all this." As Harry finished
pulling on his winter cloak, she went to his trunk and rummaged around until she
found the invisibility cloak. She stowed it in her pocket, pointedly ignoring Lupin
as she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him out the door.

Ginny hurried Harry down the stairs, her hand pushing insistently at his back
from time to. They both ignored the questioning glances from Ron, Hermione,
and Molly, and they didn't respond to the twins' teasing as they passed them in
the front garden, where Fred and George were experimenting with something for
their shop.

As soon as they were away from view, Ginny pulled the invisibility cloak out of
her pocket and pulled it around both of them. Once she was certain they were
completely hidden from prying eyes, she led him into a grove of trees, carefully
sweeping their footprints away with the hem of her cloak.

"Where are we -" Harry whispered, but Ginny shushed him and kept walking.

They had walked for nearly five minutes when Ginny suddenly stopped in a small
clearing covered in pure white snow that sparkled in the morning sunlight.

"Here?" Harry asked, looking around. The setting was certainly lovely, but he
could see no comfortable place to sit. As pretty and soft as the snow looked, any
Hogwarts student knew that it was cold, wet, and not at all comfortable.

"No, not here," Ginny said slightly impatiently, "up there." She pointed into the
top of one of the trees, and Harry could see a dilapidated wooden tree house
nestled into a branch about halfway up. Ginny squeezed his hand and led him to
the tree, showing him the boards fastened to the trunk every couple of feet,
forming a rough ladder. After looking carefully around them, Ginny pulled the
invisibility cloak off, balled it up and stuck it in her pocket, then motioned Harry
to follow her up the ladder.

"Bill and Charlie built this thing before they were even old enough for Hogwarts,"
Ginny whispered. "Dad's always had all those Muggle tools around, you know,
and Charlie reckoned that even though they couldn't use magic yet, they could
build something with them. I think Dad might have helped them out a little bit, but
they apparently thought they did the whole thing themselves. I was only a baby."

Harry looked around the tree house. It certainly didn't look like anything magical
he had ever seen. In fact, it seemed just as rickety and poorly built as the club
house that Dudley and his friends had attempted to build in the Dursley's back
garden the summer after Harry's first year at Hogwarts. The only difference was
that the small area was rather warm, especially considering that there were great
holes in each of the walls serving as makeshift windows, and another in the floor
giving access to the plank ladder. Before he had time to comment on anything,
though, he felt the Invisibility Cloak slide back over his head. "Ginny, what -" he
began.

"Shhh," she said, putting her finger too his lips, her body tantalizingly close to
his. "Enough talking, Harry." With that, she pulled the cloak more securely
around them and pressed her lips to his, kissing him longer and harder than she
ever had before.

Harry stiffened involuntarily at first; after all, he was not really in the mood for
snogging, and the floor of the tree house was hard and uncomfortable. As
Ginny's arms tightened around him and her kiss deepened, however, Harry's
entire body warmed past the temperature of the room and he found himself
responding to her, pulling her closer and closer until she was in his lap,
straddling him, her hands entwined his unkempt, uncombed black hair, pressing
his lips harder onto hers as her tongue pushed between his lips.

Neither Harry nor Ginny felt the air hit their faces as the Invisibility Cloak slipped
off them, and when Ginny took Harry's hand and moved it sensually up her
abdomen and onto the soft mounds of her small breasts, they both shivered, and
not from the chill in the air.

"Ginny," Harry whispered as Ginny moved her lips away from his, kissing and
suckling softly over his jawbone and down into the nape of his neck. Harry
moaned, no longer remembering what it was he had been going to say to her.
Nothing could be important enough to make her stop...

***
The winter sun was getting high in the morning sky by the time Harry and Ginny
broke apart and lay next to one another, breathing heavily, their clothing
discarded and pushed into a corner. Their hands entwined, they were silent for a
long while as they simply stared at the underside of the roof, lost in their own
thoughts.

Harry found the silence too much to bear after awhile. "Ginny," he began
hesitantly. "I'm -"

"Don't you dare say you are sorry, Harry," Ginny said softly, squeezing his hand.

"But, Ginny..." Harry trailed off, not sure what to say. His body was a screaming
contradiction of sensation and emotion, and he wasn't sure why, but he had the
sudden feeling that what they had done was wrong in some way.

"Harry, I love you," Ginny said firmly, "and nothing is wrong with this if it is done
when two people love each other."

Harry stared at Ginny in amazement. She suddenly sounded much more mature
than her fifteen years, sounded so knowledgeable about something that she, like
he, had only just experienced.

"I'm not sorry, Harry," Ginny continued, turning her head to look at him. "I'm not
sorry in the least, and I don't want you to be either."

Harry was saved the necessity of replying as Ginny rolled over and kissed him
gently, and it wasn't long before any doubts he might have had were washed
away.

Harry and Ginny lay together for the rest of the day in that tree house, the
Invisibility Cloak now acting as a pillow beneath their heads. Harry's winter cloak
was wrapped securely around both of them, Ginny's having fallen through the
trapdoor and into the snow below. For hours, they talked about everything. It was
not until the sun had begun to set that Harry's stomach growled, reminding him
that they had been out since shortly after sunrise, and that he had not eaten
breakfast.

Ginny was dozing in his arms, having said as few words to him as possible
throughout the entire day, and Harry reveled in the slight rise and fall of her chest
as she breathed softly, the skin of her chest pressed against his, their body heat
combined with the magical warmth of the tree house negating the need for their
jumpers and jeans. Harry had just resolved to wait until she woke up on her own
and had pulled his cloak more securely around them when he heard voices in the
distance, and the sound of boots crunching through snow.
"Harry! Ginny!" called the unmistakable voice of one of the twins. "Oi! Where are
you two?"

"Ginny!" Harry whispered frantically, shaking her rather more roughly than he
normally would have done. "Wake up! Someone's coming!"

"Whaa - ?" Ginny said in groggy surprise as she sat straight up, the winter cloak
falling around her waist. The cold air hitting the moist, sweaty skin of her torso
served as a sufficient wake-up call, and as she heard her brothers' voices calling
again, her brown eyes widened in alarm. "Damn!" she whispered loudly,
searching frantically for her own clothes and undergarments amidst the
intermingled pile in one corner of the small space. In her hurry, she pulled Harry's
jeans halfway onto her own legs before realizing her mistake. "These are yours,"
she whispered, grinning naughtily at Harry as she removed them and tossed
them to him.

"Fred! Would you look what we've got over here?" said George's voice from
directly below him.

"What's that, George?" Fred asked cheerfully. Ginny and Harry tried their best to
quiet their breath and their movements as they hurriedly pulled on their clothes.

"If I'm not mistaken, this cloak belongs to our dear little sister," George said, and
Ginny and Harry heard the snap of the fabric as George shook the snow off the
cloak to show it to Fred.

"But if that cloak belongs to Ginny, then where could she be?" Fred asked in a
tone of exaggerated bewilderment.

"Don't know, brother, but if she's still with Harry we know she's all right," George
replied.

"Is she, George?" Fred asked, his tone changing to one of mock seriousness.
"Because I have to say, Harry's seemed as though he..."

"Likes our little sister quite a lot," George supplied helpfully, as Harry and Ginny
continued putting themselves back together and stowed the Invisibility Cloak
securely in Harry's pocket. "We'll have to keep an eye on that one, Fred."

"We do have those new sensors for the shop that need testing," Fred mused.
"You know, the ones that detect -"

"When you two are finished," Ginny interrupted in a loud voice, peering down at
her brothers from the trap door, "Harry and I can come down."
"What's that, dear sister?" George asked, peering up into the trapdoor. "You say
Harry's up there with you, is he? Tell him to come down!"

Ginny climbed carefully down the ladder, Harry right behind her. As soon as his
feet had hit the snow, he opened his mouth to explain. "Ginny and I were
just...just..."

"We were just having a snog," Ginny finished for him calmly, and all three males
gaped at her. "Not that it is any of your business what we do or where we do it,
mind you."

It seemed as though Ginny had rendered her brothers at least temporarily

speechless, and she did not give any of them a chance to recover as she turned
haughtily from all of them and strode out of the clearing, pulling on her wrinkled
and wet cloak as she left.

Harry was about to follow when he felt a rough tug at his elbow, and he found
himself face-to-face with two identical Weasleys, their faces more serious than he
had ever seen them.

"Listen, mate, you're like our brother," George began, any traces of amusement
gone from his voice.

"But if you ever do even one thing that hurts her," Fred continued, looking at
Harry almost menacingly.

"We'll forget who you are, and you'll find yourself in more trouble than even
bloody You-Know-Who could cause for you," George finished, and they nodded
in unison.

"Guys," Harry began, but found that he didn't know quite what to say.

"Just don't forget it, Harry," said Fred in his normal, cheery voice. "Come on,
blokes, Mum's fixing dinner and if Ginny gets back too far ahead of us, they'll
think we've been up to something."

"Right you are, brother," George agreed. "Coming, Harry?"

Harry shook his head as he walked with the twins back to the Burrow. It had
certainly been quite a day, but he couldn't help but notice that Voldemort and his
Death Eaters had not even entered his mind the entire time he had been with
Ginny.

***
Despite everyone's insistence to the contrary, Harry still waited until Ron had
fallen to sleep and then performed his usual silencing charm. No matter what
anyone said, the fact of the matter was that he had held his wand on Ron, and he
was simply not willing to risk it again.

Harry was pleasantly surprised when he woke up after a dream-free sleep on

Christmas morning to Ron's cheerful call of "presents downstairs, mate! Let's
go!" Harry pulled on his dressing-gown and followed Ron down into the
cheerfully decorated and warm Weasley lounge, which was already packed with
the Weasleys and Moony.

Too late, Harry realized that he had not cast the counter-charm on himself. He
was extremely grateful when Remus seemed to notice his predicament and
quickly and quietly aimed his wand at Harry's throat and restored his voice,
giving him a semi-reproachful look as he did so but unwilling to say anything to
him on Christmas.

The day was extremely pleasant. Everyone opened their gifts, including their
traditional Weasley jumpers, had an enormous brunch, and passed the afternoon
out-of-doors throwing snowballs at each other and cursing at the older Weasley
boys, who were unfairly using magic against Ron, Ginny, and Harry, who were
bound by the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry.

After yet another large and delicious meal later that night, the twins headed to the
flat over their shop in Diagon Alley and the rest headed to their rooms, groggy
and befuddled, with too much rich food making them sleepy. Harry only barely
remembered to cast his silencing charm before he fell into a deep sleep on his
camp cot in Ron's room.

***

When Molly Weasley woke early the next morning and went downstairs to begin
preparations for breakfast, she was startled to see the top of a head of unkempt
black hair sitting at the kitchen table. Harry was usually the last to come to
breakfast in the morning, and she hoped he was all right. It was really not fair, all
the things he had been made to experience.

"Harry, dear," Molly said softly, reaching out to touch him on the shoulder as she
neared the table. "Are you all right?"

Harry didn't respond, and Molly quickly sat down next to him. When she pried his
hands away from his face, she was immensely surprised to find Harry's face
blotched, swollen, and smeared with tears, as if he had been crying for hours.

"Harry, what's happened?" Molly asked in a voice of forced calm. Harry opened
his mouth to speak, but he did not know how to say what he had seen.
Unintentionally, he stared at the Weasley's family clock, which was resting on the
counter in front of him. Molly turned to follow the direction of his gaze, and her
scream pierced the sleepy quiet of the Burrow.

One of the hands on the clock had gone black.

Back to index
 Chapter 29: Half of One by WriterLady

Chapter 29: Half of One

Harry went to bed Christmas night feeling almost completely happy. It had been
his best Christmas ever. Christmas Eve had passed with no visions of murder
and mayhem, giving him a peaceful night's sleep, and he had woken to Christmas
presents, festivities, and most important of all, the people he considered his
family: the Weasleys and Remus Lupin. As he settled comfortably into his camp
cot, he cast his silencing charm casually, not expecting to need it that night. He
thought that there was very little else he could ask for in this life, and he fell
almost immediately into the deep sleep brought on only by good times and too
much good food.

It was nearly five a.m. when Harry's sleep was interrupted by the flashes of green
and red light that he had come to associate with the beginning of his visions of
Voldemort's cruelty. Almost immediately, however, he realized that this one was
different than the others; it was clear that this time, rather than an attack on an
unsuspecting Muggle family, a battle was being waged. A battle with two sides...a
battle between Death Eaters and wizards. Harry, once again trapped behind
Voldemort's eyes, watched in horror as one of his greatest fears came to life:
once again, Voldemort was attacking Harry's family, for it had quickly become
clear as the setting materialized that the battle was taking place in a location that
he held almost as dear as Hogwarts or the Burrow, a location that he had helped
build, a location that brought laughter to so many through the hard times brought
on by war. The battle was taking place on Diagon Alley, inside Weasley's Wizard
Wheezes.

A young wizard in a brilliant red dressing gown ran down the stairs, no sign of
sleepiness about him besides his tousled red hair, his wand held at the ready.
Harry hardly recognized George Weasley. The young man's usually cheerful face
was screwed up with determination and rage, and he began firing spells as soon
as the Death Eaters attacking his shop came into view.

"Stupefy!" he yelled, his wand pointed at a masked Death Eater who was
attempting to get past him and up the stairs. The Death Eater went down, but
before George had time to react, four spells were shot at him from different
directions, and he was forced to defend himself rather than attack.

"Protego!" George cried, and Harry felt a surge of pride for the former DA
member as the jets of light hit the George's invisible barrier and bounced back
towards their originators, who quickly dodged. A tremendous crash sounded as
the errant spells hit shelves of Fred and George's joke merchandise.
"You'll pay for that!" called a new voice from the middle of the small stairwell,
and Harry's viewpoint changed as Voldemort turned to the source of the new
sound.

"Tarantellegra!" Fred shouted, pointing his wand at the back of the Death Eater
who was dueling directly with George. The spell hit its mark, and the Death
Eater's legs began to dance out of control.

"Stupefy!" George pointed his wand at the man. The dancing stopped
immediately and the man dropped to the ground, stunned. "Don't mess around,
Fred!" he shouted. "Take them down!"

"Incarcerous!" Long ropes flew out of the tip of Fred's wand, binding the stunned
Death Eater, and George followed suit with the still-stunned Death Eater from his
first spell at the bottom of the stairs.

Before Fred and George had turned from the two felled Death Eaters, three more
appeared from behind a shelf of fake wands, and spells began to fly between the
twins and their foes. Harry's sense of sick foreboding gave way to fierce pride as
the twins, working as a flawless team, fought and matched all three Death Eaters.
It helped that they were on their own turf, as they were familiar with the products
on the shelf and not hesitant to use them.

"This one looks like he wants to skive off his classes, Fred!" George called,
continuing to duel with one Death Eater while indicating another, who was
advancing upon him.

"Right you are, George," Fred responded, pointing his wand at the display that
held brightly colored double-ended sweet, and then at the advancing Death Eater.
"Waddiwasi!"

A purple sweet shot out of the display case and its wrapper and forced itself
straight through the Death Eater's mask and down his throat. Immediately, blood
began pour from underneath the mask, and the man behind it was only able to
muster an easily deflected "Diffindo" before collapsing on the floor.

"Good thing we strengthened those up, isn't it?" George asked cheerfully as he
dodged another jet of red light.

"Petrificus Totalus!" The jet of purple light hit George squarely in the chest, and
his arms and legs snapped straight as he fell, the grin frozen grotesquely on his
face, his eyes unable to blink.

"George!" Fred yelled, racing towards his brother. "Impedimenta!" he cried,

shooting the spell over his shoulder. It connected with the Death Eater on his tail,
and there was another loud crash as the man shot backwards and slammed into
a wall of Invisibility Hats. Harry could not help but notice how odd the man looked
with various chunks of his body invisible as the comical hats showered over him.
"Reducto!" Fred continued, again aiming the spell over his shoulder. The shelf
above the Death Eater broke apart and collapsed, burying the man in rubble and
brightly colored merchandise.

"Stupefy!" The Death Eater who had petrified George turned his attention to Fred
as he quickly raised a shield to deflect the spell.

"Crucio!"

Just in time, Fred dropped to the ground. The Unforgivable Spell went over his
head, reducing the shelves behind them to dust. He used the moment of surprise
to aim a stunner at the Death Eater, who immediately fell to the ground.
Unfortunately, Fred did not see the large chunk of ceiling begin to fall towards
him. Before he had a chance to react it hit him on the head, leaving him
momentarily confused.

Harry surveyed the scene with a growing amount of fear. Five Death Eaters down,
George petrified, and Fred still reeling from a knock to the head – it would have
seemed like a victory, but what the twins did not know was that Voldemort
himself was waiting, carefully concealed with three of his most loyal followers.

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said softly to the three Death Eaters waiting alongside him.
"They are twins, are they not? Dolohov, take the first. Leave him petrified – but
make sure he is able to see what happens to those who openly defy Lord
Voldemort. Bellatrix, the other is yours, my most loyal follower, and to you I give
license to do with him what you wish. Malfoy, you will see that we remain
undetected. You cast the appropriate charms, I take it?"

"Yes, my Lord," Malfoy answered dutifully as Dolohov lifted the still-petrified

George with little effort and propped him up against the counter.

Bellatrix advanced slowly, cat-like, on Fred, her wand still at the ready. As Fred
blinked and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was George, propped weirdly
against the front counter, and as he tried to jump up, Bellatrix began her attack.

"Crucio!"

Fred dropped to his knees, his screams echoing through the destroyed store.

Harry's insides boiled with rage that he did not bother trying to control and
hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him. He tried unsuccessfully to wake
himself up, hoping upon hope that if he could, he could get help in time. He
remained, however, trapped behind the eyes of the most evil wizard of all time.
Bellatrix lifted the spell and Fred shakily got to his feet, his eyes ablaze with pain
and defiance, and raised his wand to point it not at Bellatrix, but at Dolohov, his
brother's tormentor.

"You fool!" Voldemort spat as he waved his wand, sending Fred's flying to the
other side of the shop. Fred looked straight at him without fear. "You cannot save
him now, or yourself. It is time the blood traitors learn what it means to defy Lord
Voldemort. Bellatrix, continue the lesson."

"Diffindo!" Bellatrix purred the incantation almost lovingly as she swept her wand
in a slashing motion over Fred's chest. Fred did not scream as blood began to
pour from the laceration which now ran diagonally across his entire torso.
Instead, he continued to gaze unblinkingly at Voldemort, a slow grin beginning to
spread over his face even as the color drained from his skin.

"What are you smiling at?" Bellatrix demanded, raising her wand once again.

"Him," Fred said weakly but clearly, nodding his head towards Voldemort. "Your
‘master,' isn't he?"

"Do not dare to mock the Dark Lord," Bellatrix whispered, moving threateningly
closer to Fred, her wand even with his heart.

"Mock him?" Fred actually laughed, although by this point he had become so
weak he could hardly make himself heard. "He's a coward. He doesn't have the
guts to attack Harry Potter or Dumbledore, so he goes after Muggles, and not just
any Muggles – women and children."

"You dare...you..." Bellatrix seemed to be too angry to complete her thought as

she raised her wand once more. Harry's heart broke as she uttered the words of
the most unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses. "Avada Kedavra!"

The jet of green light raced towards Fred, who never tore his gaze from the face
of Lord Voldemort. Soundlessly, he fell.

"Finish the other one," Voldemort ordered Dolohov, and Harry's line of sight
changed as they walked through the rubble of the store and outside onto a still-
sleeping Diagon Alley.

"Do not cast the Mark," Voldemort ordered Malfoy. "Leave their bodies to be
found at first light, as a lesson to those who would challenge me."

Harry woke silently in the small bedroom he shared with Ron, his face streaming
with tears, his voice once again raw from silent screams. He knew he had to alert
the Weasleys or Lupin...but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. The twins
were dead. Nothing would change that, and the news would tear the Weasley
family apart. Outside Ron's window, the sky was just beginning to take on the
paleness of first light, and Harry headed blindly down to the kitchen, out of habit
more than anything else. He hardly noticed his own tears as he stumbled down
the stairs, and his eyes saw nothing until he felt the soft hand of Mrs. Weasley on
his shoulder only a moment later.

***

Harry shook his head in disbelief as Mrs. Weasley screamed, and he had to
glance at the clock again before he believed what he had seen. How could he
have been so stupid? The hand which had once borne Fred's name had gone
black, but even now, the hand bearing George's was pointed steadily at "mortal
peril." George was still alive!

"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry shouted, grabbing her arm. "Listen to me!" It took him a
moment to understand why no sound came out. He desperately cast the counter-
charm and repeated himself.

Molly did not respond immediately as her scream ceased. For a moment, she
simply stared at the clock in disbelief, her face pale.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry shouted again, shaking her slightly.

"Harry!" Arthur Weasley shouted as he came running into the room, his thin hair
disheveled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What's happened? Molly? What's
wrong?" He went immediately to her.

"Fred," Molly whispered, pointing to the clock. As Arthur saw the black hand that
used to bear the name of his third son, he sank into a chair, holding his wife's
hand.

Before Harry had a chance to continue shouting, Remus Lupin, also looking as
though he had been woken from a very deep sleep, hurried into the room.

"Moony!" Harry shouted urgently. "Listen to me! You've got to get to Diagon
Alley, to the shop! George is still alive! Voldemort –”

"Harry!" Lupin interrupted, taking him by the shoulders. "What's happened?"

"Voldemort attacked Fred and George's shop!" Harry said desperately. "You have
to get there! George is still alive, look!" He pointed at George's hand on the clock,
which was still pointed at "mortal peril."

"Arthur!" Lupin said firmly. "We've got to go! Molly, get Dumbledore and Tonks,
and any other Order member you can raise."
Arthur, having finally realized what was happening, jumped up to follow Lupin as
Mrs. Weasley nodded numbly and sprang up to go to the kitchen fire. She
grabbed her wand and shot the silvery signal from it, and did not hesitate before
she threw Floo powder into the grate and stuck her head in. As she did this, Harry
heard the distinctive "pops" that surely meant that Lupin, Arthur, Bill and Charlie
had disapparated.

"Harry?" asked a soft voice behind him, and he turned, his heart heavy, to face
Ginny and Ron, who were standing at the foot of the stairs, staring in horror at
the family clock. For a moment, all they could do was stare at one another, and
then Ginny suddenly burst into tears and ran past Harry into the arms of her
mother, who had just emerged from the fire.

Ron sat down heavily at the kitchen table, his face pale, staring blankly straight
ahead. Harry joined him, but Molly and Ginny remained standing, their arms
wrapped around one another, Ginny's body shaking with silent sobs, Molly's face
lined with grief but stoic, holding on for the sake of her other children.

It seemed like an eternity passed before the fire burned green and Remus Lupin
spun into the grate. He crossed directly to Molly and put two shaky hands on her
shoulders. Harry noticed that his hands and sleeves were bloodstained, and he
glanced uneasily at the clock.

"Molly," Lupin said softly, "we got there in time to get George. He was being held
by Bellatrix Lestrange and Antoin Dolohov, but they disapparated before we
could capture them. He's very badly hurt, and Arthur, Bill and Charlie are on their
way to St. Mungo's with him now."

"He's not going to...to..." Mrs. Weasley couldn't say the word as she looked
pleadingly into Lupin's grave face.

"It's too early to tell," Lupin said gently. "Arthur suggested that I bring you and
the others to the hospital straight away."

"And Fred?" Molly asked weakly. Even though she already knew the answer, she
needed to hear it confirmed before she could believe it.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," Lupin whispered, his voice breaking for the first time that
day.

***

Harry and Ron dressed as quickly as they could, not speaking to one another as
they pulled on mismatched robes and socks. They did not bother to comb their
hair, but ran down the stairs at top speed the very second they had laced their
trainers. They nearly ran into Ginny on the way down, and all three of them burst
into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was standing, fully dressed, her hand
already in the pot of Floo Powder. She remained silent as she threw a handful of
glittering powder into the flames, stepped in, shouted "St. Mungo's," and spun
away out of sight. Ron and then Ginny followed her, but before Harry could take a
handful of powder himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry," Remus Lupin said seriously. "We need to talk. Professor Dumbledore will
be joining us shortly."

"But St. Mungo's - " Harry began.

"It's going to be some time before we know anything," Lupin interrupted, "and
Molly knew I would be keeping you behind."

Harry nodded numbly. He should have been expecting this, he supposed.

"You saw what happened, didn't you, Harry?" Lupin asked, sitting down at the
kitchen table and motioning for Harry to be seated across from him.

Harry nodded at him, pulling the chair out from the table, resigned to telling the
story. He knew this would not be the last time he would have to do so.

Harry and his guardian sat in silence for a few moments before they heard the
tell-tale "pop" from the direction of the lounge. They were surprised, however,
when the first pop was followed by another slightly louder one. They did not have
to wonder long, however; in one moment's time, Dumbledore swept into the
kitchen, followed closely by a very grave Professor McGonagall.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, inclining his head towards Harry, who noticed that, not
only was their usual twinkle gone, but they were heavy and sad.

"Professor," Harry replied hoarsely. He didn't know what else he was supposed to
say.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, and she made a motion towards him as if she
wanted to offer him some comfort, but remained where she was. Her eyes were
over bright, as if she had been or was trying not to cry.

Harry nodded at her, but said nothing.

"Professors," Lupin greeted them solemnly. "Please, have a seat."

"Tea?" Dumbledore inquired politely, and without waiting for an answer, he

waved his wand, conjuring a large silver teapot and four cups. Another wave of
his wand, and the tea service began serving them one by one.
"Harry," Lupin began, looking intently at him across the table. "The first thing I
want to say to you is that no matter what you saw, no matter what happened, this
is not your fault. You did nothing wrong."

"It is imperative when one is taking part in a war," Dumbledore said softly and
seriously, "to remember that casualties are bound to occur. It is inevitable, Harry.
What you must also remember is that each and every one of us is fighting by
choice. Our side does not coerce obedience by threats and trickery, and we do
not force our members to do anything they would not otherwise choose to do.
Fred and George Weasley knew the risks of joining the Order, and they took them
on willingly." The Headmaster's voice broke slightly as he said the twins' names,
and he looked away slightly as he blinked his eyes several times in succession.
Professor McGonagall was also forced to take a moment to control her emotions,
but Lupin spoke straight through his own, his voice laced with grief as he
addressed Harry.

"Harry, you have to remember that you were not actually there. I know you
wanted to fight, I know you would have done anything you could have to change
things, but the fact of the matter is that you had no ability to take any kind of
control in that situation. I repeat: there is nothing you could have done."

"I tried to wake up," Harry whispered. "When Bellatrix was coming at Fred, I tried
to wake up so I could do something, but I couldn't."

"Why could he not wake himself, Albus?" Remus asked. "It seems as though,
with that level of awareness as well as Harry's skill in Occlumency, he would have
been able to pull himself out of the vision."

"I believe that under normal circumstances, he certainly would have been able
to," Dumbledore replied. "However, Voldemort's emotions run so high during
these attacks, this one in particular, that the tie was too strong even for someone
as skilled as Harry to break. It is fortunate, however, that his Occlumency skills
have become great enough that Voldemort is no longer aware of the intrusion,
and that Harry himself is no longer forced to experience Voldemort's emotions in
the manner he was forced to last year."

"It didn't matter that I couldn't feel his emotions!" Harry interjected, his voice
cracking bitterly.

"I know, Harry," Lupin said gently. "I can't even imagine what it must have been
like for you."

"Potter," Professor McGonagall said in a kind tone, "is there anything at all we
can say or do to help you?"
Harry stared at her in surprise. This was not the Professor McGonagall he was
accustomed to. Her tone of voice was gentle, almost motherly, as she looked at
him with sadness etching her face. He was so surprised, as a matter of fact, that
he could not reply to her.

"Just remember," McGonagall continued, "that the members of the Order are
there to assist you if you need it. You are not in this alone."

Harry nodded at her, still rather taken aback by her unusual attitude.

"And now, Harry, I am afraid it is time to do what we must do," Dumbledore said
softly. "I know you are hurting, but we must know what happened this morning on
Diagon Alley. Will you tell us?"

Harry's stomach turned and a lump rose into his throat as he began to speak. At
some point during the tale, Lupin got up from his seat and went to stand behind
Harry, placing his hands on his shoulders as a sign of comfort and solidarity.

No one interrupted him as he spoke of the events that had taken place only hours
before. Occasionally, Lupin squeezed his shoulders comfortingly, and when
Harry got to the end of the battle in which he described Fred's defiance through
torture and death, Professor McGonagall also left her seat and stood beside
Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder next to Lupin's.

"After Voldemort told Dolohov to kill George," Harry concluded, his voice hard
and still hoarse, "he left, and I guess he disapparated. That's when I woke up. I
thought both of the twins were dead. I came downstairs. I was trying to figure out
how I was going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley when Mrs. Weasley came
downstairs, and I saw the clock and realized that George was still alive." Harry's
voice began to rise. "If I hadn't been so stupid, we might have gotten to George
sooner. We might have –”

"Harry, stop," Lupin said firmly, moving to sit beside Harry, and holding his chin
to force Harry to look at him. "What counts is that you did alert us in time. We got
to George, and we hope he is going to make a full recovery. However, even if he
does not, you did every single thing that you could do. None of this is your fault."

"I waited too long, Moony," Harry said, looking his guardian straight in the eyes.
"If Mrs. Weasley hadn't come down right after I did, I never would have even seen
the clock."

"But you did see it, Harry, and you did not wait so long. We reached the shop only
a couple of minutes after Fred's death. Not much time had passed at all," Lupin
said fervently, knowing that if Harry continued down this course of guilt, he
would begin to self-destruct, opening him up to attack, just like what had
happened following Sirius's death.
Before Harry could reply, the fireplace burned green and Hermione stepped out of
the fire, her bushy hair wild, a frantic expression on her face.

"Professor Lupin!" she cried, not bothering to brush the ash off her cloak before
she crossed the kitchen to him. "What's happened? I got a message from you
saying I ought to come as quickly as possible. What's going on? Harry? Are you
all right? Are you hurt? Have you seen another attack? What –”

"Hermione," Lupin interrupted, turning to her. "Slow down." Hermione looked at

all of them in some confusion.

"It's Fred, Hermione," Harry said with great difficulty.

"Fred?" Hermione asked, her eyes already filling with tears.

"Voldemort and eight Death Eaters attacked Fred and George's shop early today,"
Dumbledore said heavily. "Bellatrix Lestrange killed Fred Weasley at
approximately five o'clock this morning." Hearing it stated so plainly caused
Harry a jolt of pain and rage. He hated Bellatrix Lestrange more than he had ever
hated anyone in his life, with the exception of Voldemort himself.

Hermione's face was now streaked with tears, but she whispered, "George?"

"He is alive, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall answered, still in her

unnaturally gentle voice. "Mr. Potter alerted the Weasleys and Professor Lupin,
and the Order arrived on Diagon Alley in time to take Mr. Weasley to St. Mungo's."

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked.

"St. Mungo's," Lupin answered. "Harry and I were about to join the Weasleys
there. Would you like to accompany us?"

Hermione nodded through her tears, and when Harry stood up, she immediately
went to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Oh, Harry," she said, starting to cry
in earnest. Harry felt the lump in his throat grow larger, and he struggled to
contain himself as he patted Hermione awkwardly on the back.

One after the other, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Dumbledore, and McGonagall
reached into the pot of Floo Powder and sped through the grates to St. Mungo's
hospital.

***

The small waiting room outside the Critical Care Wing of St. Mungo's was a sea of
bright red hair as the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Ron, and Ginny paced
anxiously, their faces lined with grief and worry. After Mr. Weasley had told them
what he knew about George's condition, none of them talked. They simply paced,
occasionally stopping to offer comfort to one another, and hoped beyond hope
that George would survive.

When Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonagall, Harry and Hermione arrived from the
Burrow nearly an hour later, there had still been little news.

"The Death Eaters used the Cruciatus curse on George," Mr. Weasley told them,
his voice cracking. "They did it without taking the body bind off of him. As we
came in, Bellatrix Lestrange used the Diffindo curse...just like...just like she did
on Fred..." Tears once again fell down the usually jovial face of Mr. Weasley as he
thought of his sons, one who was beyond saving, and one who may not even
have the will to live without his brother. "He lost a lot of blood, and..." he trailed
off, not even attempting to stifle his emotion.

Harry shuddered, remembering only too well the pain of the Cruciatus curse from
the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, when he had watched Lord Voldemort
resume his bodily form. He could not imagine having the curse performed on him
while his body was paralyzed.

"Any word on his condition now, Arthur?" Lupin asked as Molly joined them, her
face pale and without expression.

"The Healers are having trouble reversing the body bind," Arthur continued,
putting his arm around Molly and pulling her close. "They have not seen the
effects of the combination of those two spells before, and they are having trouble
finding the correct counter-curse. He lost so much blood that the blood-
replenishing potions are not working fast enough. His condition is very serious,"
he finished brokenly.

At this, Hermione crossed to Ron and led him away from the adults, putting her
arms gently around his waist and pulling him to her. This gesture was all that was
needed to break the dam of grief and worry that had lodged itself in the teenaged
boy's chest, and Ron's body began to shake in huge, racking sobs as he bent to
bury his face in Hermione's neck to hide his tears from the rest.

Harry went to Ginny as well, but when he attempted to put his arms around her,
she stiffened involuntarily, and rather than giving into her emotions as she had in
her mother's arms, she returned Harry's hug awkwardly and without any real
warmth. Harry pulled away and tried to look into her eyes, tried to see what was
wrong, but she would not look straight at him, instead focusing on some point
over his left shoulder.

Ginny did not stay with Harry for long, never looking at him as she broke the
embrace and returned to her mother's side. Harry stood awkwardly next to Lupin.
He loved the Weasleys like family, but in a moment like this, he knew there was
no comfort he could offer anyone, even Ginny. He kept his face stoic as they
waited, refusing to give into the howl of rage and despair that was trying to fight
its way up his throat, hoping with the rest that the Order had arrived in time to
save one twin.

It seemed as though hours passed while they waited in silence. At one point,
Professor McGonagall departed and returned with a tray of sandwiches and a jug
of pumpkin juice, but no one could eat and the sandwiches began to grow stale
before Lupin waved his wand and they vanished.

A little past noon, the doors to the small waiting room began to creak slowly
open, and every pair of eyes in the room shifted in that direction. They hoped to
see the Healer in charge of George's care, but they also dreaded seeing her,
knowing that she could be the bearer of horrible tidings as easily as good ones.
So tense was the environment that for a moment nobody responded as a young
man with well-kept red hair and immaculately pressed business robes walked
slowly into the room.

No trace of the usual smugness was present on the pale face of Percy Weasley as
he visibly gulped, looking into the grief- and worry-stricken eyes of his parents,
brothers and sister. No one spoke or moved, until Percy seemed to gather himself
just enough to whisper, "I just heard. Mother...Father..." Percy did not cry, but it
was easily apparent that he was as shocked and grief-stricken as the rest,
perhaps even more shocked since he had not been kept privy to the goings-on of
the Order, and may not have even known that Fred and George had joined up.

Before Mr. or Mrs. Weasley could react, a roar of rage issued from the opposite
corner of the room, where Ron had been sitting with Hermione. He moved so
quickly that his hair seemed only a streak of red as he barreled across the room.

"You!" Ron yelled fiercely. "You bloody, stinking, good-for-nothing coward!" He

flung himself at Percy, and before anyone could stop him, landed a hard punch
across Percy's face, sending his glasses flying to the floor.

Harry, his reflexes honed from his hours of training with Tonks and Kingsley
Shacklebolt, was the first to reach Ron, only a fraction of a second too late to
stop him from hitting his brother at all. He grabbed the back of Ron's robes and
pulled him away from Percy, who was standing stock-still, ignoring the small
stream of blood which was now streaming from his nose.

"Percy?" Mrs. Weasley asked weakly, but before she could continue, the waiting
room door opened again.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" the assistant Healer inquired, ignoring the obvious
tension in the room. "You may see him now."
So great was Mrs. Weasley's need to see George that she took Mr. Weasley's arm
and followed the Healer from the room without another glance at Percy or any of
the others.

***

"He's awake," the Healer told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they hurried down the long
corridor. "The body bind has been partially removed, allowing him to speak and
move his head, and the blood-replenishing potions have done their work. The
damage from the Diffindo curse was easily repaired, but the effects of the
Cruciatus combined with the Full Body-Bind are quite serious."

Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"However, we believe your son will make a full recovery with time," the Healer
continued as they stopped in front of a heavy-looking wooden door. Mrs. Weasley
buried her face in her husband's chest as she sobbed in relief. The Healer allowed
her a moment to pull herself together; in her short career in the Critical Care Wing
of St. Mungo's, she had grown quite accustomed to moments like these.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," the Healer continued, reaching out to stop them before
Molly could move to open the door to George's room. "Your son needs your
assurances right now. The death of his twin has affected him gravely, and if he is
to make a full recovery, he has to be convinced of the need to continue fighting."

At the mention of Fred's death, both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled once again
with tears, but their faces remained determined. They had to help their living son
now. They both knew there would be time to mourn Fred...a lifetime of time to
mourn him, for he would never return to them. Their focus now had to be on the
remaining twin, the one who would have to learn how to live without the brother
from whom he had never been separated.

Nodding seriously at the Healer, Arthur stepped forward and opened the door to
George's room. Grasping his wife's hand, he entered the room, and the last thing
the young Healer saw before the door swung magically shut were the concerned
expressions on the face of each parent. She admired Molly and Arthur Weasley
for the strength they would show to their son. She had seen many parents in
similar situations fall apart in grief for the dead, paying little to no attention to the
living, who would inevitably fade into a pattern of grief and guilt, and never again
live a full life. The Healer could feel the strength coming from Molly Weasley, and
she smiled slightly as she walked back to the Healer's Quarters. It would take
time, but she knew George Weasley would not suffer that fate.

Back to index
 Chapter 30: Learning to Live Again by WriterLady
Chapter 30: Learning to Live Again

The waiting room fell silent as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed the Healer through
the double doors and down the corridor to George's room. Relief was palpable in
the air because everyone knew that if George had made it this far and if their
parents were being allowed to see him, he was most likely out of danger. As the
doors swung shut behind them, the attention of those in the room returned to the
newcomer.

"Hello, Percy," Lupin said quietly.

No one else in the room seemed particularly happy to see the ambitious young
businesswizard, but Lupin avoided all of their eyes and looked straight at Percy,
his gaze one of compassion rather than condemnation.

"Professor Lupin," Percy responded shakily, bending to retrieve his glasses from
the floor and repairing them with a slight wave of his wand. "Is it true
about...about Fred?"

"Yes," Lupin answered heavily. "Fred was killed early this morning." Once again,
Lupin's voice broke as he said the words, and he reached out and grasped
Harry's shoulder as if he felt a sudden need to be in physical contact.

The effect of the former professor's words on Percy was obvious. His already
pale face lost whatever color it had left, and he staggered backwards as if from a
blow. He looked from one redheaded, freckled face to the next, looking for
comfort, for absolution. He found little, but saw only faces that mirrored his own
in their grief and horror. His eyes finally rested on Harry, who was startled to note
a desperate, almost pleading gleam to them.

This did not seem to be the same Percy who had sent back his Christmas jumper
the previous year, or the same Percy who had sent Ron a letter warning him
against further association with Harry. This Percy was every inch a Weasley,
needing to be with the others, especially when something had happened to one of
their own. This was the Percy who had hurried off to send an owl to his parents
when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, and this was the Percy
who had stayed up all night with the rest of them, waiting and hoping that Harry
and Ron would bring her back.

It was this final thought which moved Harry to forgive Percy of all that he had
done. No matter what had transpired in the previous year, two facts were certain:
this was war, and the Weasleys were family. He glanced up at Lupin, who nodded
slightly as if he had read Harry's mind and released his hold on the young man's
shoulder.
His mind made up, Harry strode forward, avoiding eye contact with Ron, who was
staring at him in stunned disbelief. As he reached Percy, he stuck out his right
hand and looked him straight in the eye. He did not smile, but neither did his face
hold any hostility.

Percy took a moment to recover before he reached out shook Harry's hand.
"Thank you," he whispered.

Harry nodded at him and returned to his place beside Remus Lupin. Bill, Charlie,
Ron and Ginny stood silently and still for a few moments, glancing at one another
uncertainly. It could not have been clearer that they were unsure of what to do
about Percy. If he had shown up at any other time, the other Weasley children
would happily have hexed him into next week, but with the loss of Fred so
horridly fresh and the grief so overpowering, they knew that they needed
togetherness.

Ginny was the one who finally broke the strange stillness. Giving her other
brothers a glance clearly warning them not to say one word against what she was
about to do, she squared her shoulders and approached Percy. She did not
bother to wipe the tears from her face as she stopped right in front of him, and for
a moment they simply stared at one another. Finally, with a strangled sort of
sound, Ginny threw her arms around her brother's neck and wrapped him in a
bone-crunching hug. It caught Percy so much by surprise that he took a moment
to respond, but when he did it was with such sincerity that everyone in the room
was taken aback. Percy, who had never been very affectionate, was hugging his
little sister back so fiercely that his arms where shaking.

Although the Weasley boys did not seem quite as eager to forgive Percy, there
was no hostility that afternoon, and all of them, especially Charlie, became
warmer towards him as they waited for their parents to return from George's
room.

A full two hours passed before the double doors opened once again to reveal
Molly Weasley, her eyes bloodshot, her face pale but still stoic. She knew she still
had children to care for, children who needed her to be strong for them, children
who needed her reassurance. With these thoughts at the forefront of her mind,
she smiled weakly at the waiting faces and waved off Albus Dumbledore as he
courteously offered her the chair in which he had been sitting.

"No thank you, Professor Dumbledore," she said softly, and then turned her gaze
to the others. Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, but her voice did not break as
she told them, "George is expected to make a complete recovery. He needs to
rest today, but you may all see him tomorrow morning. Your father is with him
now."
Bill, Charlie, Ron and Ginny all gathered around their mother, softly asking
questions even as they reached out to offer and to receive comfort. Percy hung
awkwardly back, once taking half a step towards them before he stopped, trying
not to look at his family. Harry almost felt sorry for him, but even though he had
already forgiven Percy's misdeeds from the previous year, he could not help but
think that Percy deserved to know what it felt like to be the one excluded. He
would have to earn the trust of his family once again, and from the looks of
things, it was not going to be easy.

Mrs. Weasley, however, had different ideas. She broke away from the others after
only a couple of seconds, turned, and wrapped Percy in a motherly hug. She
didn't speak, but she held him for longer than usual, rocking slightly, the top of
her head barely reaching the tall young man's chin.

"Mother, I..." Percy began.

"Shhh," Mrs. Weasley interrupted him, finally breaking away and looking up into
his eyes, holding both of his hands. "None of that matters now. All that matters is
that you're here...you're safe." As she said these words, she thought of the son
she had lost that morning, and the tears threatened to spill over. Her chin
quivered for a moment, but instead of crying, she smiled at Percy and squeezed
his hands.

As the tears fell freely down Percy's face, Mrs. Weasley beckoned to Bill, Charlie,
Ron and Ginny. Harry hung back as they all gathered once again around their
mother, but when Molly noticed that he had not joined them, she pulled him
gently aside.

"Harry," she said, looking straight into his green eyes, "thank you for saving
George." She pulled him into a hug, and when he tried to speak through the lump
in his throat, she whispered, "If it hadn't been for you, we would have lost both of
them." She hugged him again and turned away so he would not see the grief to
reveal itself on her face.

Molly Weasley felt as though she would die from the pain of the loss of her
fourth-born son, but as she returned to the others, no sign of weakness showed
on her face. She would be strong for her children.

***

George was released from St. Mungo's three days later, his blood having finally
been replenished to the Healer's satisfaction and the results of the combined
curses seeming to have worn off. Other than a slight limp, he was in perfect
physical health.
His spirit, however, had suffered a blow far worse than the injuries his body had
sustained. From the moment of conception, George had never been without his
twin for more than a short amount of time. They had always functioned as one,
had done everything together – most people could not even tell them apart.
Whatever pain was being felt by the rest of the Weasleys, including Molly, was
not even a fraction of the hurt that was coursing through George's soul, for he
had not only lost a brother, but a part of himself as well.

Fred Weasley was buried in a small, simple ceremony in the Weasley family
graveyard only a short distance from the Burrow. If the funeral had been
announced, there was no doubt that the small pasture behind the Weasley home
would have been filled with hundreds of mourners, for Fred and George had
always been immensely popular and had grown even more as their joke shop
became a success. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, however, had conferred and had
decided that such a large crowd would be too much for George, who had only
just been released from St. Mungo's.

As Fred was laid to rest on the snowy morning of December thirtieth, the only
people in attendance were the eight remaining Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione
Granger and the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had been closest to
the family: Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley
Shacklebolt and Albus Dumbledore. Although the family knew that friends such
as Lee Jordan would want to pay final respects, they felt that with events
unfolding as they were, it was better to keep things small. Apart from George's
condition, any sort of large gathering would be certain to attract Voldemort's
attention.

Harry could feel the immense sadness of the Weasley family, could see it etched
in every pale face as they huddled together in the bitter cold. George looked
stunned and disbelieving as he stared down into the grave where his twin's coffin
had been magically lowered only moments before, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had
given up all attempts to be stoic as they wept openly, supporting one another.
Harry hung back a bit, staying with Hermione and Lupin on the other side of the
grave. He felt as though he had lost a brother, and the familiar feeling of grief
mixed with anger boiled inside of him like a thick and potent potion. He swore,
once again, that he would put a stop to Voldemort's reign as soon as he was able.

When the ceremony was over and each person present had tossed a handful of
frozen soil into the grave, they trooped silently back to the Burrow, where a meal
was waiting, having been prepared by the Hogwarts house-elves to spare Mrs.
Weasley the labor.

They ate the delicious meal silently, hardly tasting it. After they had finished, the
members of the Order slowly left, each offering a comforting word to the grieving
family before disapparating. Soon the only people left were the Weasley family,
Harry and Hermione – even Remus Lupin had gone. George retreated to his room,
and after a moment, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed. Bill and Charlie kept one
another company in the tiny lounge where the Christmas tree still stood as a
cruel reminder of the joy they had shared only days before. Percy seemed
uncertain, sitting alone at the kitchen table, his head bowed in grief. His family
had forgiven him and welcomed him back, but he had been gone for so long that
some of the closeness he had once shared with them was gone.

Hermione led Ron gently back outside for a walk. She had been at his side almost
constantly since the morning after Christmas, responding kindly but firmly in the
negative to her parents' insistence that she come back home. She was a great
comfort to Ron, and their relationship had grown to new depths as he dealt with
the loss of his brother.

Ginny was still being strangely distant to Harry. She did not seem angry, and she
had let him hold her, but Harry could easily sense that she felt awkward and ill-at-
ease with him. He thought he understood why – she knew he had witnessed her
brother's death, and even though she had said she did not blame him for it, she
was having trouble dealing with the fact that he had seen the whole thing and had
been unable to stop it. Considering that Harry himself was having trouble dealing
with this, he could hardly blame Ginny for her reticence. Acting on Hermione's
advice, he had tried to give Ginny space when she needed it, but had also
continued to try and comfort her in any way that he could.

When Ginny shook her head slightly at him as she got up from the table and
followed Hermione and Ron out the back door, Harry headed slowly up the stairs
to Ron's attic bedroom, nodding at Percy on his way out of the kitchen. He
wanted time to be alone to think about what had happened. There was no way
around it – Fred's death had been at least partly his own responsibility.

Harry's mind kept up a cadence of ‘if onlies' as he headed up the many flights of
rickety stairs. If only he had been able to wake himself and get help to Diagon
Alley in time...if only he had somehow foreseen the danger...if only...if only. Harry
knew that Fred's death had not been his fault, but he could not help thinking that
he should have been able to stop it.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Harry was feeling nearly lifeless in
his grief and self-doubt. No sooner had he flopped onto his camp bed, however,
than he the familiar warmth of his amulet on his chest, alerting him that Remus
Lupin wanted to speak with him. Harry considered pretending not to notice, but
after only a moment of hesitation, he clasped his fist around the amulet and used
the now-familiar form of telepathy to greet Lupin, who had returned to Grimmauld
Place to prepare for the upcoming full moon.

***
George closed the door softly behind him before he collapsed onto his bed, lying
on his side and facing the simple wooden bed which had so recently been
occupied by his twin. Fred and George had not been living away from the Burrow
for long, and now, as George lay staring at the empty bed, he wondered if things
would have been different if they had stayed. Neither of them had wanted to;
yearning for independence and adulthood and totally consumed with their new
shop, they had been eager to fly the coop and live on their own. Molly had warned
them that safety in numbers was important, but they had brushed her aside. If
they had just listened, Fred would be right here, right now...

George's eyes welled with tears and he blinked furiously, swallowing fiercely to
quell the lump in his throat. Flashes of the battle at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes
and of the green light that had raced towards his twin's unflinching face came
unbidden into his mind. Under the full body bind, he had been unable to turn
away as Fred was killed, but he knew he would not have been able to even if had
been able.

Even today, after Fred's funeral, George could not really believe that he would
never see his twin brother again. It just didn't seem real.

"He's not coming back," George whispered in an effort to force himself to believe
it. "Fred is not coming back. He's ..."

Even to himself, George could not say the word "dead." It was too final, too
irrefutable, to apply to someone who had always been less of a brother than an
irreplaceable part of his own soul. As this thought slowly meandered through
George's mind, refusing to be banished, he could hold back the tears no longer,
and he lost all reserve as he sobbed for his twin.

He did not hear the door creak softly as his mother and father entered the room,
nor did he see them approach his bed. At that moment, George was conscious of
nothing but his own pain. He did not respond as Molly sat on the bed next to him
and placed a comforting hand on his back, not bothering to stifle her own tears,
nor as Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him firmly.

"George, darling," Molly crooned softly, bending to press her wet cheek to his as
she spoke, moving her hand in small circles on his still-cloaked back. George did
not reply to her, but his sobs grew quieter is he shifted his gaze to his mother's
tear-stained face.

Arthur moved to the other side of the bed and took a seat opposite his wife,
sandwiching George between them as he continued to lay disconsolately on the
bed. "George, my son," Arthur began, but before he could continue, Molly uttered
a soft cry and pulled George into her arms like she had when he was only a small
child. She held him tightly, both of them sobbing as they rocked back and forth.
After a moment's hesitation, Arthur gathered his wife and his son into his arms
and held them both.

Parents and son stayed in this embrace for some time – whether a moment
passed or an hour no one knew or cared, but eventually the sobbing quieted and
the three pulled apart, wiping the remains of their tears from their blotchy and
swollen eyes.

"Mum...Dad..." George began, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry...I..."

"Oh, George," Molly said softly, stroking his cheek. "Don't think that. Don't ever
think that." Her voice grew stronger as she talked to him. "It's a miracle you
survived, and none of this was your fault, none of it."

"You fought bravely and well, son," Arthur continued, and swallowed hard, willing
his voice to stay strong. He knew what he needed to say next. "And you have
more work to do now, George."

Molly nodded in agreement. After having talked to several of the Healers at St.
Mungo's, they knew that in addition to allowing him time to grieve, they also had
to help him resume his life. George Weasley had to learn how to live again. The
night before, they had agreed on their course of action. Molly squeezed her
husband's hand, lending him strength. The truth was, the Weasley parents' hearts
were as broken as their son's, and they, too, wanted nothing more than to wallow
in their own grief, to not have to face a world without Fred in it. The Healer,
however, had cautioned them that they must force themselves to resume living,
and quickly, for with every passing day, George would withdraw further into
himself.

"Work?" George said weakly, looking at each of his parents in turn. This was not
what he had expected. Surely they didn't expect him to return to the shop? He
fully intended to close it forever and had no desire to run it without his brother at
his side.

"Yes, dear," Molly said gently but firmly. "The shop is being repaired and cleaned
thoroughly, and it will be ready for business soon."

"No, Mum," George answered. "Leave it closed. I don't want it."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, George," Arthur said mildly. "Imagine what Fred
would say if you closed the shop, not to mention your customers and your
investors." Saying Fred's name was hard for Arthur, but he continued doggedly,
with the conviction that he was doing what was best for his son. "You've got to
be strong, son. You can't sleep away your days. Reopen the shop and keep
inventing."
"You've brought laughter to so many," Molly said softly. "I may not have thought
opening a joke shop was important when you first began it, but I can see now that
laughter is more important than ever. You could not have a more important job if
you were the Minister of Magic himself."

"I can't do it," George said, not meeting her eyes. "Not without Fred. We did it
together, Mum. I can't do it alone." His voice dropped to a whisper and the tears
threatened to spill over once again.

Molly and Arthur exchanged a quick glance, and at an almost imperceptible nod
from Molly, Arthur got up from the bed and left the room, quietly closing the door
behind him.

"You won't have to do it alone, George," Molly said, still speaking softly and
gently. She could see that George was at least engaged in the conversation even
if he was not yet agreeing to go back to his shop, and she did not want him to
curl back into himself. "You will never be alone."

"It's not the same, Mum," George muttered. "I love all of you, but Fred..."

"I didn't mean that it would be the same, George," Molly corrected him. "But as
long as you are a Weasley, you will never in your life be alone, and you have a
heavier mantle of responsibility than ever now. You must not only continue your
work, but Fred's as well. It's what he would want you to do."

"I know, Mum, but I don't know if I can," George replied, looking away from her.
What she had said was true and he knew it, but that didn't change the hollow
feeling that threatened to overwhelm him, the huge black hole where Fred had
been.

"You can, George," Molly responded, and they both turned as Arthur entered the
room once again, followed closely by Percy.

***

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay, Harry," Lupin said regretfully.

"It's all right, Moony," Harry responded automatically.

"Is it really all right, Harry?" Lupin asked. "Or perhaps I should say, are you really
all right?"

"Fine," Harry told him dully, knowing full well that this response would not satisfy
his guardian.
"Talk to me, Harry," Lupin said gently, and Harry could picture the concerned
look on the older man's face as well as if they were sitting across from one
another. Lupin continued, "Tell me what is going on inside that head of yours."

Harry didn't answer. How could he possibly explain what he was thinking to Lupin
when he wasn't really all that certain of it himself? Besides, he felt that if one
more person told him that he bore no responsibility for Fred's death, he would
scream.

"Harry, I am going to tell you one more time, and I want you to listen: no one
bears any fault for what happened in Diagon Alley other than Voldemort and his
Death Eaters. No one. You mustn't blame yourself, Harry."

Harry still didn't respond, but Lupin could feel his irritation even through the
connection fostered by their amulets. It was the same problem that they had had
every time Harry witnessed someone's death, made all the more poignant by the
fact that the victim was Fred Weasley. He sighed. He had not wanted to play this
particular card, but at the same time, hoped that it would shock some sense into
Harry before he continued down the slippery slope of self-doubt. Harry could not
afford that now, with the war escalating and Voldemort growing stronger and
more menacing each day.

"Harry, do you blame George for Fred's death?" Lupin asked, his tone brutally
blunt.

Harry sat straight up. "No!" he replied angrily. "How can you even say that?"

"It makes more sense to blame George than yourself," Lupin replied, willing
himself to keep his emotions quelled so that Harry could not sense how much he
hated himself the moment the words had been said. "George was there. You
weren't."

"Lupin," Harry said, his voice low and furious, and Lupin winced as he always did
when Harry addressed him like that. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. It wasn't
George's fault – he did everything he could! He did everything right, he –"

"Of course he did, Harry, unless you believe that George could have dueled
Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Antoin Dolohov, and Voldemort himself and
won."

"Of course he couldn't have," Harry raged. "No one could, except maybe Profess
–" He stopped in the middle of his sentence as the realization of what Lupin was
doing hit him. How could he have been so stupid as to think that Lupin actually
blamed George for what had happened? His guardian was actually trying to
provoke him into staying that no one could have stopped the attack, but in
Harry's opinion what Lupin had tried to do was lower than low.
"That wasn't funny," he said, his voice laced with bitterness.

"No, it wasn't," Lupin replied. "But surely you can see that no one could have
stopped Voldemort and his followers from doing what they did. There were
simply too many of them. It's a miracle that Fred and George lasted as long as
they did, and that George survived. And he wouldn't have, Harry, be sure of that,
if you hadn't raised the alarm in time."

"It's not the same!" Harry shouted aloud, forgetting for a moment the telepathic
nature of his conversation with Lupin. He glanced towards the door, but at this
point he was too furious to really care whether or not he had been overheard.

His fist was clenched so tightly around his amulet that it was surprising that the
small bottle did not shatter. He concentrated hard and virtually shot his next
statement at Lupin, who staggered visibly in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld
Place. "That was a dirty trick, Lupin."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said, and his voice contained a hint of pleading urgency
to it now. "I truly am. But don't you understand how important it is that you not
waste time with self-doubt and blame now? Don't you understand that those are
the very signs of weakness that Voldemort preys upon? You've got to stay
strong, Harry, and not lose yourself in this. Voldemort is coming out into the
open, which means he has grown strong enough that he no longer feels as
though he has to hide. He's known the Prophecy for months, but your situation
has never been more dangerous."

"That doesn't give you the right," Harry began, but he found that he could not
really complete the thought. He felt incredibly stupid for falling for Lupin's ploy.
How could he have actually considered the possibility that anybody blamed
George for Fred's death?

"Harry," Lupin said, and his voice had lost the pleading tone and had a steely
edge to it now. "It is my job to keep you safe, and frankly I am past caring what
you think I do and do not have the right to do. As long as you are blaming
yourself for Fred's death instead of placing the blame where it belongs, you are
making yourself vulnerable, and that is not something I am prepared to tolerate. If
you won't be strong and get past this for yourself, then do it for the rest of us."

Once again, Harry did not respond. He was rather taken aback by this abrupt
change in tone, but somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew that
Lupin was right. Childishly, though, he was not prepared to admit it, so he
remained silent.

Lupin waited for a moment, and when Harry said nothing, he sighed once again.
"Just think about it," he said, his voice becoming weary. "I have to leave you now
and get prepared for the full moon, but I want you to think about it, Harry. I
understand how you are feeling. I just want you to fight." With that, the amulet
Harry still clutched tightly in his fist went cold, and he knew that his guardian had
broken the connection.

Hundreds of miles away, in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, a weary-

looking Lupin sat heavily at the large oak table. He hated any kind of animosity
between himself and Harry, but this time, he knew that Harry did not have the
luxury of a weeks-long recovery. The war was going in full-force, and he feared
more every day that Harry's day of reckoning was not far off the horizon.

***

It was with a growing sense of dread that Harry cast the silencing charm on
himself that night, after having spent most of the day alone in Ron's bedroom
while Ron was out with Hermione. Even Percy seemed to have left the house, and
Harry had only caught a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley going into their own
bedroom after they emerged from talking to George.

He had heard nothing from or about Voldemort or his followers since the attack
on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and since he knew the halt had not been called
out of respect for Fred's memory, Harry expected to see another attack sometime
very soon.

Nothing happened that night or the one after that. The New Year had not been
celebrated with any of the usual fanfare or even the traditional toast. Most of the
inhabitants of the Burrow had simply wished one another good night and gone to
bed well before midnight.

The third morning of the year dawned cold and cloudy with a light dusting of
snow falling on the already snow-covered grounds of the Burrow. As Harry
stretched and quietly cast the counter-charm on himself, he was thankful once
again that because there were adult inhabitants at the Burrow, it would be
impossible to detect exactly who was performing magic and he did not need to
worry about any kind of censure from the Ministry.

Harry was up before Ron that morning. Hermione was not expected at the Burrow
until sometime after lunch, having finally given in to her parents and consented to
spend some time at home before school resumed at the beginning of the
following week, and Ron was taking advantage of her absence and having a lie-in.
Harry left the room quietly, Ron's snores echoing down the wooden stairwell
before he eased the door closed.

This morning, Harry was planning on finding Ginny and seeing if she would talk
to him. Although he was unlikely to admit it to anyone other than himself, Harry
missed her more than he ever would have imagined that he would. After a quick
shower, he went downstairs into the small kitchen, smelling the familiar smell of
bacon frying as he descended. It took him a moment to realize that he had not
smelled breakfast cooking since Fred's death, and he sincerely hoped that it
meant Mrs. Weasley was feeling a bit better.

Molly had indeed resumed her customary place next to the stove and was
presiding over the preparation of breakfast with her usual watchfulness. She
greeted Harry with a smile and a brave "good morning, dear," but Harry noticed
that her smile still did not reach her eyes.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, yawning a bit as he sat down at the
table.

"How are you this morning?" Molly asked anxiously, her hands shaking slightly
as she transferred bacon from the frying pan onto a plate lined with a clean tea
towel.

"I'm fine," Harry answered truthfully. "Has everyone already gone?"

"Charlie's still here," Molly answered. "He's got to go back to Romania later
today; his holiday is almost over. Bill and Arthur have gone to work already,
George and Percy are at the shop, and Ginny and Ron are still sleeping." The tone
of her voice as she told Harry where everyone was evidenced just how closely
Mrs. Weasley had been monitoring her family's movements since the attack, and
he suspected that she had recited the same list to herself several times already
that morning.

"Percy went with George to the shop again today?" Harry asked, somewhat
surprised. George had gone back to the shop the afternoon after the funeral,
escorted by Percy ‘for safety reasons,' Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had said. They had
found much of the necessary work to repair the shop had already been done by
the twins' friends. Perhaps it was the sight of the shop that had snapped George
back a bit from the precipice on which he had been standing since Fred's death,
or perhaps it was the obvious devotion of their friends and family, but he had
already started to throw himself back into his work.

Harry could understand George's zeal well enough once George had returned to
his shop and continued the work he and Fred had started two years before, but
he was confused by Percy's sudden interest. From what Harry could gather,
Percy had been going to work with George each morning before going to his own
job at the Ministry and stopping back before apparating to the Burrow, where
both he and George were staying for the time being under their mother's
insistence. Harry made a mental note to ask Ron about it later on, for Mrs.
Weasley had busied herself once again at the stove, scrambling several eggs and
buttering a stack of toast for Harry, Ron, and Ginny.
Five minutes later, Ginny stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, but before she could
take her place at the table, Mrs. Weasley asked her to go wake Ron for breakfast.
Ginny turned with just the slightest of smiles to Harry and went back up the
stairs, returning momentarily with Ron, still in his pajamas and looking highly
grumpy. Harry greeted him, but knew better than to say much until his friend was
a little more awake.

The three teenagers ate silently for awhile until Mrs. Weasley broke the silence,
saying in a would-be cheerful tone, "What have you three got planned for today?"

"Hermione's coming later today," Ron answered, having been brought back to life
by the big breakfast and a large goblet of spiced pumpkin juice. He made a slight
face. "She wants to start revising for some of our classes already."

"She's got the right idea, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said, and Harry was actually
pleased to note that some of the customary sternness had returned to her tone as
she addressed her youngest son. "Have you started revision for your O.W.L.s yet,
Ginevra?" she asked next, turning to her daughter.

"No, Mum," Ginny replied quietly. "I was planning to start after the holiday."

"All right, dear," Molly relented a bit. "Just make sure you do – remember, your
O.W.L.s will determine what classes you can take for your sixth and seventh
years, and what career you can pursue. It's important, Ginny."

"I know," Ginny replied. "May I be excused?"

Molly nodded, but Harry noticed that Ginny had eaten very little, and she didn't
say anything as she left the table and headed back up the stairs to get dressed.
Harry and Ron finished eating and put their plates in the sink. Just as they were
about to leave the kitchen, Harry saw Ginny come back down the stairs, take her
cloak from the hook by the door, and head into the back garden. After a moment's
hesitation and a gentle nod from Mrs. Weasley, Harry took his cloak and followed
her.

Ginny had already disappeared into the woods by the time Harry closed the back
door behind him, but from the direction of her footprints in the snow, he guessed
where she had gone.

He was right. Five minutes later, his cheeks rosy from cold and his bare hands
freezing, Harry reached the small tree house that Ginny had taken him to only
days before and called to her. She didn't reply, but Harry heard small noises from
above that sounded like sobs. After another moment's hesitation, he proceeded
up the wooden ladder and through the hole in the floor. He saw Ginny huddled in
the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees and her cloak wrapped tightly
around her, tears running down her face. Harry suspected that she had been
coming here often, and mentally rebuked himself for not having followed her
before.

"Ginny?" he asked tentatively as he climbed into the small room. "Are you okay?"

"Leave me alone, Harry," Ginny replied, her voice trembling and laced with tears.

"No, Ginny," Harry said gently, remembering well how Lupin had responded to
him when he had been grieving over Sirius's death. He approached her cautiously
and sat down next to her, wondering what he should do next and wishing he had
asked Hermione for advice before he had followed Ginny out here. "Erm..." he
started awkwardly, "do you want to talk about it?"

Ginny remained silent but for the small catches in her breathing that told Harry
she had been crying pretty hard.

"Ginny," Harry said, desperately trying to find a way to make her feel better. It
made his heart ache to see the pain in her eyes, for he had grown to love her
above all others.

"I just..." Ginny began.

"What is it, Ginny?" Harry prompted.

"I never thought...Fred..." Ginny replied softly, and her eyes welled up again. "I
know this is war, Harry. I know that. The things you've seen...all those people. But
still, I never thought..." Her voice trailed off.

"You never thought it could happen to your family?" Harry finished for her.

"No, I never did," Ginny whispered. "I've been so worried about you, Harry. I knew
he was coming for you...and you've had to see all these terrible things he's
done...but then, it wasn't a stranger...it was Fred...and you saw..." She screwed up
her face in an effort to maintain her somewhat shaky control over her emotions.

"I did see, Ginny," Harry said, willing his voice not to shake. He had been right.
Even Ginny blamed him for Fred's death. "Please believe me...if there had been
anything I could do..."

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, suddenly throwing her arms around him and
burying her face in his chest, sobbing unrestrainedly for a few minutes before
she choked back her tears and continued, "You couldn't have done anything. You
couldn't have...I just wish...I wish..." She began sobbing again, holding onto him
as if he were the only anchor to safety she had left.
Harry was glad she was opening up to him, but he wasn't quite sure how to deal
with her outpouring of feeling. He held her tightly and patted her on the back,
kissing the top of her head. He still wasn't sure exactly why he had been being so
distant with him, but as he continued to hold her until her sobbing once again
began to fade, he decided he didn't care.

Harry and Ginny spent the rest of that morning in the tree house talking, their
arms wrapped around one another as they remembered Fred in their own way.
Ginny told Harry some of their family stories from her childhood.

"I remember the first time they pranked me," Ginny said, smiling at the memory. "I
was only about three, and they were five, and it was really hot outside...unusually
so. We were in the back garden while Mum did housework, and she had asked Bill
to look after me.

"Bill, of course, went off to do something else as soon as she wasn't looking, and
left me, Ron, and the twins alone in the garden. We weren't allowed to leave the
area just beyond the house, but I was happy enough picking flowers for my hair
and chasing the garden gnomes."

Harry smiled at the picture of a very young Ginny chasing the funny little gnomes
through the garden, and he impulsively kissed her forehead.

"Anyway, Ron was playing on a toy broomstick, and Fred and George told me
that if I took one of the garden gnomes a necklace made out of flowers, it would
grant me three wishes. Of course, I believed them and set to work making the
most beautiful flower necklace I could make." Ginny smiled again. "I didn't know
yet what the smell of flowers does to a garden gnome in close proximity, or that it
is the reason why they like to set up housekeeping in Wizarding gardens."

"What does the smell of the flowers do?" Harry asked with interest. He didn't
know much about garden gnomes except that they were a nuisance and that Mrs.
Weasley would often required her children to rid the garden of them as
punishment for misbehavior.

"Shh...you'll find out." Ginny giggled a little then, but immediately stopped, as if
she had suddenly remembered that she was not supposed to be happy. Her
expression sobered but at a slight squeeze on the shoulder from Harry, she
continued, "Anyway, after I finished the necklace, I went off in search of a garden
gnome, heading towards one of their little holes under Mum's plants. As soon as I
got close, not one, but three gnomes came running out of the hole, and I held the
necklace out to them." She stopped, and it seemed as though she was trying hard
not to burst out laughing at the memory.

"What happened then?" Harry prompted when she hadn't spoken for a moment.
"The first gnome grabbed at the necklace and it broke, leaving him with several
flowers and me with the remains of it in my hands. I didn't know what to do at
first, and I started to cry. Then, I felt something grab the bottom of my robes, and
before I knew it I had about ten garden gnomes climbing up my robes trying to
get at the rest of the flowers!" Ginny laughed then, a real laugh, and Harry smiled
broadly. Her laugh was like music to him, and he had missed it.

"You see," she said, still laughing, "flowers are like liquor to garden gnomes, but
they often have trouble getting them because they are too short to reach them
and the stems of the flowers aren't stout enough to climb. When Mum came out of
the house a few moments later to check on us, I had gnomes climbing all over
me, grabbing at the flowers I'd put in my hair earlier and the ones I had in my
hands, and I was just standing there, giggling fit to burst. Fred and George, of
course, were nowhere to be seen. Oh, when Mum found out what they had
done..."

Even Harry had to laugh at the thought of the expression on Molly Weasley's face
when she saw her small daughter covered in garden gnomes. He stopped,
however, when he noticed that Ginny was no longer laughing and her face had
gone pale.

"Ginny?" Harry asked in concern. "What's the matter?"

"It just doesn't feel right," she said softly.

"What doesn't?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"Laughing. How can we laugh when Fred..." Her voice trailed off.

"You don't think Fred would want us to laugh?" Harry asked. This was one of the
many things that Lupin had told him time and again after Sirius's death...that
Sirius would not want to be remembered with sadness. "Ginny, Fred spent his
whole life making everyone laugh. Why would he want us to stop now?"

Ginny nodded and smiled tremulously at Harry, and by the time they left the tree
house to head back to the Burrow for lunch, their hands were clasped tightly
together. Although you could still see the grief written plainly on both of their
faces, each was much happier than they had been just a few hours before.

***

The rest of the week at the Burrow passed rather more somberly than usual. Mrs.
Weasley was back to her cooking and housework and Mr. Weasley was back at
work, but both of them looked older and paler than they ever had before and it
was easy to see how hard they were trying to help their children cope with Fred's
death. Mr. Weasley's smiles seemed forced, and he often lost focus when he was
playing chess with Ron and would sit staring into the fire until Ron reminded him
that it was his move. Mrs. Weasley would disappear at times, and all of them
suspected that she spent a good deal of time in her room, thinking about Fred.

Hermione, although she was still staying with her parents, came to the Burrow
daily, and at her insistence Ron, Ginny, and Harry had all started revising for their
spring classes. It was a way to pass the time, to be sure, and Harry suspected
that was part of the reason why she was nagging so much about it.

Ginny and Harry spent nearly every waking moment together. Their activities
varied, but more often than not they could be found in the tree house, talking and
holding one another. They had not gone any further than that...Ginny was not in
the mood, and Harry remembered with a pang how Fred and George had caught
them there and had warned him against hurting her. Following Hermione's advice,
he was careful to move at her pace, and not ask anything of her that she was not
willing to give.

Unbelievably, the person who was attracting the most interest in the Weasley
household was none other than Percy. According to George, the usually serious
businesswizard had been spending more and more time at Weasley's Wizard
Wheezes, going over their books and even making suggestions for new products.
Although George had returned to work and was running things as well as
possible without his brother, he was prone to periods of crippling depression,
and he confided to Harry and Ron one night after Ginny had gone to bed that it
was Percy who usually brought him out of it.

"Seriously, mates, I don't know what to make of him," George told them seriously.
"It's so hard to do this without Fred, but whenever I get to thinking about closing
the shop, it seems like Percy always shows up with something to talk about that
gets me on the right track again."

"Percy does that?" Ron asked incredulously. For his part, even though he treated
his brother with civility bordering on friendliness, he had not accepted Percy
back into the fold yet. He was still too angry at the grief the ambitious young man
had caused his family and friends over the past year and a half.

"Yeah," George replied. "It's not the same, you know, without Fred..." George's
voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself before he continued, "But
you wouldn't believe some of the stuff Percy's come up with, and he's made some
changes in the way the money is handled that have already made a difference."

"Is Percy going to quit his job at the Ministry and come to work with you?" Harry
asked, noticing that to even suggest that Percy might be thinking of leaving the
Ministry was something he would never have even considered before.

"No way!" Ron commented.

"I don't know," George said ponderingly, "but I have to say that I wouldn't really
mind much if he did. He's not a barrel of laughs, Percy, but he's still got a lot of
good ideas. Besides, I get the impression that things are not going well for
Minister Fudge. I don't know how long Percy would have his job anyway."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. He knew that Cornelius Fudge had lost a lot
of popularity over the fact that he had spent a year pretending that Voldemort had
not returned, but he had not gotten the impression that his job was in jeopardy.
Who would be the new Minister if not Fudge?

"I don't really know," George replied. "Percy hasn't said much, but I get the
impression that the Minister's office has been getting so many Howlers that they
had to hire someone just to receive all of them."

"I think it would be a good thing if Fudge got the sack," Ron said fiercely. "He's a
git, that one."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. If nothing else, "git" seemed to be an appropriate word for
the current Minister of Magic, and it probably would not be a bad thing to have a
new one.

George yawned. "Listen guys, I've got to get to the shop early tomorrow. Percy
wants to do a complete inventory before we open. I think I'll turn in."

Harry and Ron wished George a good night, and then headed up the stairs to bed
themselves. They were returning to Hogwarts the next morning, and they, too
would have to be up early to make it to the Hogwarts Express by eleven. After
Ron was safely snoring, Harry cast the silencing charm on his throat once again,
this time almost hoping that he would find something out, see something.
Though he was relieved that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had seemingly
decided to lay low for the time being, Harry found their continued silence
disconcerting in the extreme.

***

The somber mood in the Weasley household continued as they got everyone off
to the train with a minimum of confusion. Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley held all
of them a little tighter and a little longer than she had before, and she implored
them all to be safe. He could see the tears in her eyes as they all boarded the train
with their trunks.

The news of Fred's death had been reported in the Daily Prophet, of course, so
everyone on the train knew about it. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came back from
the Prefect's compartment unusually quickly, saying that the Head Boy and Girl
had excused the three of them from patrolling the corridors during the train ride.
They passed the long journey quietly, Ron and Hermione sitting close together on
one of the bench seats, Harry and Ginny on the other.

It did not take long for people to start coming by the compartment. The first was
Neville, who knocked tentatively on the sliding door before coming in. "I'm...really
sorry about Fred," he said, looking down at his shoes.

"Thanks, Neville," Hermione said when no one else answered. Neville left quickly,
clearly feeling awkward and not knowing what to say, but all day, a constant
stream of students stopped by to offer their condolences.

"I wish they'd stop," Ginny whispered after Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot
had gone.

"They don't know what else to do," Hermione said softly. "They care about you
two, and they all knew Fred. They feel like they've got to say something."

"There's nothing they can say," Ron said rather more fiercely than he had
intended. "What do they think they can say that will make things better?"

"They know they can't make it better, Ron," Hermione said, her tone gentle rather
than scolding. "They just want you to know they care, that's all."

"I wish they wouldn't," Ron muttered, and Harry couldn't help but agree. No one
wanted this kind of attention, but the stream of students didn't stop coming until
the train had stopped in Hogsmeade and the four of them found a carriage to
themselves back to the castle. Once again, they passed the ride in silence, mostly
just wanting to return to the Gryffindor common room and to their dormitories.

This was not to be, however, for as soon as they had made it up the long walk
and into the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall met them, her expression grim.

"Mr. Potter," she said without preamble. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak
to you immediately."

Back to index
 Chapter 31: Draco's Christmas by WriterLady

Chapter 31:   Draco's Christmas Wish

Draco Malfoy did not go up to the Entrance Hall to see his fellow Slytherins off for
the holidays. He pointedly ignored Pansy Parkinson as she attempted to wave
him over before she left the Slytherin Common Room, and he did not speak to
Crabbe and Goyle as they lugged their trunks out of the dormitory.

Draco had been ready to leave. His trunk had been packed with the robes and the
schoolbooks he would need over the holidays, and the gifts he had ordered via
Owl Post for his mother and his father were wrapped neatly and stowed safely at
the bottom where they would not be broken or seen. He had been looking forward
to leaving the castle. Proud as he was of the black mark on his left forearm, the
clandestine meetings in the dark dungeon chamber, the communications with the
stupid giant in the Forbidden Forest and the constant feeling that he was being
watched were growing more than a bit wearing. Draco felt that he deserved a
break from all of it, and when his family owl had arrived only minutes before he
was supposed to depart for the Hogwarts Express, he had been most displeased.

Draco,

I wish you to remain at school over the Christmas holidays. Your gifts will be sent
along, and you will receive them on Christmas Day. Do let me know if there is
anything else you require for your stay.

Mother

The short note lacked any warmth and had not been accompanied by the parcel
of sweets that Draco had become accustomed to over his nearly six years at
school. Because of this, he correctly surmised that his mother had written the
note at his father's instruction and was none too happy that she would not see
her son over the holidays.

Knowing also that his father had most likely demanded that he remain at
Hogwarts because Lord Voldemort had directed him to do so, Draco had wisely
decided not to argue the point. Instead, he had closed his trunk and gone down to
the Slytherin Common Room, where he sat pretending to read his Potions text as
though this had been planned all along.

The only other Slytherin remaining at the school over the holidays, a small, dark-
haired first-year whose name Draco could not remember, took just one glance at
the intimidating sixth-year sitting in the leather armchair and scurried off to his
own dormitory, not daring to speak.
After the younger student had gone, Draco looked around, wondering what to do
with himself. He had received no instructions regarding how he was to spend his
time on his own at the school, and he was not ready to begin his holiday revision.
He returned to his dormitory and flopped onto his bed, any attempts at dignity
abandoned since there was no one there to see him.

Draco had not imagined how lonely his life would be as the only student who was
a Death Eater at Hogwarts. He could not tell his fellow Slytherins of his status
even though most of them would have turned green with envy if they knew, and
he could not talk openly with Professor Snape because the Order of the Phoenix
still believed him to be loyal to their side. All in all, Draco's existence had become
so solitary that the absence of the other students affected him very little...at least,
this was what he told himself as he stared at the cold stone ceiling of his
dungeon room.

After a few moments of reflection, he decided that the holidays would not be so
bad. After all, how could he be expected to spy on Harry Potter when Potter had
decided to spend the holidays away from school? If the only thing he was
required to do was to take an occasional gift to the giant in the forest, Draco
supposed the holidays might not be so bad after all. He could lie-in every
morning if he wished, and that was rarely allowed at Malfoy Manor and never
when his father was at home. He would have fewer reports to give in the cold
dungeon chamber, and he would not have the constant worry that someone was
looking over his shoulder and reporting his every move to Lord Voldemort.

Just as Draco had come to the conclusion that he would actually enjoy spending
the holiday at school, an unfamiliar black owl arrived through the small air shaft
that led into the dormitory. Draco groaned, sure that this owl could not be
carrying good news. His suspicions grew as he realized that this message had
been written to only be visible to someone with the Dark Lord's mark; the way the
ink faded when he transferred the letter to his right hand confirmed this.

Draco,

By now you have no doubt received my notice that you are to remain at Hogwarts
over the holiday break. I did not wish the other students to see your instructions
so I sent this letter separately.

I have been informed that you have been instructed on the entrance into a secure
location in Hogsmeade. You are to obtain permission from the Headmaster to be
in Hogsmeade at that location on the 23rd of December at 2:00. I wish to see you
then, and it is at this time that you will receive your Christmas presents and
celebrate the holiday with the family.

Until then, carry on with your current assignment and revise for your classes.
Mother

Draco balled the parchment in his fist. He was not fooled by the letter, which had
obviously been written in a manner that would not seem suspicious if it fell into
the wrong hands. Even with the added security of charmed ink, everyone was
being extra careful about all communications these days.

He uncrumpled the parchment and read it over again to make sure he had
gleaned all the necessary information from it. If this communication was, as he
suspected, truly from his father and Lord Voldemort, he could not afford to miss
even one part of it.

It was clear enough that he was to be in Hogsmeade on December twenty-third at

two o'clock and that he was to secure permission to be there rather than
attempting to sneak off. The only thing he was not as clear about was the location
at which he was supposed to meet his father. Draco read that line of the letter
several times. What secure location had he been instructed on entering? He had
only been to Hogsmeade once this school year, and he had received no special
instructions on that day.

Draco thought for a moment about what he had done that day. He remembered
clearly that he had been angry because he had been told that he must spend the
day under his invisibility cloak tracking Potter rather than enjoying himself. He
had followed Potter and his pathetic little girlfriend around town all morning, and
then to the Three Broomsticks for lunch, and then...

He felt the rage begin to rise within his chest as he realized what ‘secure location'
his mother had been referring to. She was referring to the house in which Potter
had told his pitiful friends about the so-called prophecy. Draco's rage, for once,
had nothing to do with Potter, but with the fact that his mother somehow knew
about the Shrieking Shack.

He had told no one what he had found out about the Shrieking Shack, or even
that he had been there. After he had figured out that Lord Voldemort already knew
about the prophecy, he was not about to spread Potter's fame by telling anyone
else of it. No one had seen him; he had remained under his cloak the entire day.
The only thing that made sense was that he had been followed by someone who
had the means to track his movements even while he was under the cloak.

The only question was who had done it. Draco's head swam with possibilities,
and he was certain that if he could find the identity of the person who had
followed him that day at Hogsmeade, he would know the identity of the person
who had been telling his father and Lord Voldemort of all his movements since
the start of school.

***
It was absurdly simple for Draco to secure permission from Headmaster
Dumbledore to spend the day of the twenty-third in Hogsmeade. The Headmaster
had not only agreed, but had decided to allow the dozen or so other students to
spend the day in the Wizarding village as well, the only condition being that they
would be accompanied by Professors Snape and McGonagall and the
Headmaster himself.

Draco was not surprised or alarmed by this information. He had never supposed
that he would be allowed to go to Hogsmeade completely unaccompanied, and
with the rest of the students going it would be easy enough for him to disappear
under his invisibility cloak once the students had been given leave to explore the
village.

Draco had several hours to wander the village innocently, buying himself an early
Christmas present of candy from Honeyduke's. As he walked briskly down the
main road, turning his nose up at Zonko's joke shop where rest of the students
staying at Hogwarts were happily plotting their next pranks, he thought about
what his father would want to speak to him about that was so important that they
had to set up this clandestine meeting. Draco rather hoped he would learn the
reason behind his father's insistence that he stay at school over the holidays
because so far, besides one gift-bearing visit to the giant, he had been asked to
do nothing that justified it.

Draco went for lunch in the Three Broomsticks around noon. The small pub was
packed with witches and wizards all up to the village for last-minute holiday
shopping, and the Hogwarts professors and students were there as well. Draco
sat a small table by himself, ordered a Butterbeer and a plate of roast chicken for
his lunch, and pretended to occupy himself with his purchases. After he had
eaten, he left the shop quickly and proceeded back up the main road and around
a corner to the Hog's Head. He went inside, ordered a Butterbeer from the surly
bartender so as not to appear suspicious, and after drinking it went back to the
dirty bathrooms at the back of the pub and threw his invisibility cloak over
himself.

He had originally intended to do this at the Three Broomsticks, but he hadn't

because he had been certain that one of the professors or Madam Rosemerta,
who seemed to know everything about everyone, would notice. Here at the Hog's
Head, he reasoned that no one would notice that he had gone, or if they had, they
wouldn't have anyone of interest to tell. He didn't even bother to wait until
someone opened the door, but in his haste, proceeded through it, safely under
his invisibility cloak, confident that even if someone wondered why the door had
opened of its own accord, they would assume that it was the wind. The only
people at the Hog's Head are the scum of the Wizarding world, Draco thought
contemptuously as he headed past the stile at the end of the road and towards
the Shrieking Shack, now being careful to erase his own footprints from the snow
as he moved. Werewolves and Mudbloods and other ne'er-do-wells who haven't
the slightest idea how things in the world are going.

Draco reached the back entrance to the shack at five minutes before two o'clock
and quickly said the password to unlock the house. Once he was inside, he
removed his invisibility cloak, hung it sloppily over a dusty kitchen chair, and
went in search of his father.  He heard voices coming from the front end of the
house, and he cautiously moved forward. He had been expecting no one but his
father and possibly his mother, but he heard at least two male voices coming
from what seemed to be an old drawing room. His blood ran cold as he heard the
voice he had learned to fear.

"Young Mr. Malfoy," sneered Lord Voldemort as Draco entered the drawing room,
his head respectfully down, meeting neither the eyes of the evil wizard nor the
eyes of his father, who was standing as always on Voldemort's right.

"My Lord," Draco answered, trying hard to keep the nervousness from his voice.
"Is it safe for you to be here, so close to Hogwarts?" he asked boldly, hoping that
the evil wizard would find it favorable that he was worried about his well-being.

"How good of you to inquire, young Malfoy," Voldemort replied in his horrible,
high-pitched voice. "I assure you, we are quite well-protected...or, I should say, I
am quite well-protected." His voice became, if it were possible, even colder. "You,
on the other hand, have much to answer for. Tell me, Malfoy, what has your
assignment been since you have joined my ranks?"

"To report on Harry Potter, My Lord," Draco said, no longer able to hide the fear
in his voice.

"Correct," Voldemort said smoothly. "And since you have begun your
assignment, have you brought me any news of import?"

"I -" Draco began.

"Choose your words carefully, Draco," Lucius said coldly, "and remember that
Lord Voldemort knows all."

"Yes, young Malfoy, Lord Voldemort knows," said the tall, sneering man, rising
from his seat to tower over the blonde boy.

"I've done what you asked, My Lord!" Draco said quickly, panic laced heavily in
each of his words.

"Have you?" Voldemort asked quietly. "Have you told me everything you know?"
"Yes, my Lord! I am unable to follow Potter into Dumbledore's office; I don't know
what they do in there!" Draco was growing desperate. He could hear the malice in
the dark wizard's voice, and he could think of nothing but that he was supposed
to have reported on exactly what Potter did while under the Headmaster's
tutelage.

"Of course not," Voldemort almost purred. "The headmaster's office is too well-
protected, and I did demand that you remain undetected."

"Yes," Draco answered feebly.

"However," Voldemort continued, "it was brought to my attention some time ago
that you had managed to follow Potter to this very location, and that you had
become aware of some information which you had not before possessed."

"M- My Lord," Draco stammered, all pretense of courage gone, "I th-thought you
already knew..."

"You thought?" Voldemort asked, his voice laced with malevolence. "You did not
know because no one told you. You took it upon yourself to keep vital
information from me simply because you thought I might already know...you
thought."

He advanced on the cowering teen, his face set and hard with cruelty and vicious
intent. "It is time you learned, young Death Eater, what happens to those who
displease me." He raised his wand. "Crucio!"

This time was not like the time Voldemort had initiated Draco into his ranks. This
time, he did not release the young man from the curse. He watched, his face
impassive, as Draco fell onto the dusty carpet of the Shrieking Shack, writhing
and screaming in pain.

When the curse was finally lifted, Draco lay on the floor, breathing heavily, tears
streaming down his flushed face.

"Get up, Draco," his father ordered. "Face your lord and master with the strength
of a man."

With great difficulty, Draco rose from the floor and stood in front of Voldemort,
his legs shaking with the effort and his breathing still labored.

"Now, young Malfoy, do you understand the amount of emphasis I wish you to
place on your assignment?" Voldemort asked menacingly.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered with as much strength as he could muster as he

looked into the evil, red eyes of the one who he had pledged to serve.
"You will follow Potter. You will observe him. You will listen to his conversations
with his friends, and you will report back to me everything you learn, without
exception. I will tolerate no more mistakes, young Malfoy."

"Yes, my Lord," Draco repeated, his voice growing stronger as the effects of the
curse wore off.

"As for your other assignment," Lucius said in the same cold, formal voice he
had been using the entire afternoon. "We expect to be moving forward soon, is
that correct, my Lord?"

"Indeed, it seems as though our youngest member's duties grow more vital by
the day," Voldemort said, eying Draco appraisingly.

"You must redouble your efforts with the giant," Lucius ordered. "Behind you,
you will find a box containing five gifts, which will be given to the giant over the
remainder of the holiday when you are less likely to be detected, and you will
continue doing so until all has been prepared to our Lord's satisfaction."

"Yes, Father," Draco answered, some of the Malfoy pride slipping back into his
voice as he thought of the weight of the responsibility he had been given. After
bowing to Voldemort, he turned toward the door.

"Wait," Voldemort ordered.

Draco turned back towards his father and his master, his pointed face set in a
look of puzzlement.

"I believe one more reminder of my expectations is in order," the Dark Lord
sneered as he raised his wand. Before Draco even had time to process what was
about to happen, Voldemort raised his wand and cried, "Crucio!"

Draco screamed.

***

Just outside the Shack, Albus Dumbledore bowed his head in sadness as he
listened to the shrieks of pain coming from the bright student he had watched so
carefully since Voldemort's return. There was no questioning the situation any
further. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater.

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