Chapter Text

Even the sound of Hagrid blowing his nose in between sobs, like the sound of a ship horn, failed to pierce the veil covering Harry’s senses. It was only 3 days ago that he had woken up in his Gryffindor four-poster bed to a world gone grey. It seemed like he used up every ounce of emotion stored in his body while thrashing Dumbledore’s office. He’d been absolutely livid with the headmaster. Now, however, he didn’t seem to feel much of anything at all.

To his right sat Ron: face pale, eyes red, dark circles surrounding them, even his hair looked brown rather than Weasley red, like the fire that gave it colour had burned out. To Harry’s left, an empty chair. It took no effort whatsoever to picture her sitting there, flanking him like Ron and she had always done for the past five years. It took no effort because he still saw her everywhere. Even the voice in his head, telling him that this was a common part of the grief process sounded like her.

Harry continued sitting. Here and there, parts of McGonagall’s speech made it through to him. “She was an extraordinary witch,” McGonagall had said, “the brightest witch of her age.” While a nice sentiment, Harry thought, and certainly true, it didn’t quite capture who she was. He had asked her once, after Terry had stated that she ought to be in Ravenclaw, why she was sorted in Gryffindor. Not that he had any doubt about her bravery and courage, of course, he had added. She had answered that while knowledge, education, and intelligence were, of course, important, it’s what you use it for that really mattered for her. What’s the point of understanding the world if you do not try to improve it?

Ron moved, snapping Harry out of reminiscence. The memorial ceremony was over, Harry realized belatedly. It had started half an hour ago, right after Harry and Ron had met her parents for the first time. He’d seen them around in Diagon Alley a few times but they had never really talked. Ron had remarked that she hadn’t really talked about them that much either. Sure, they knew their names and that they owned a dental practice but that was about it. Mr Weasley had sprung into action the day after the battle in order to organize the mess of a part-wizard, part-muggle funeral. Due to the Statue of Secrecy, they had been forced to decide on a memorial ceremony at Hogwarts combined with a muggle funeral. Only Harry, Ron, Mr Weasley, and Mr and Mrs Granger were allowed to attend both. Mr Weasley had remarked that the only reason her parents had been allowed to attend the memorial at Hogwarts was because Minister Fudge was desperate to improve relations with Dumbledore and Harry, as a last-ditch effort to maintain his position.

They slowly walked up to the castle, bumping into each other slightly. Either to ensure they were there or because they simply were not aware of what they were doing. They made their way up to their dormitory. Officially, they still had a couple of free days left before the students in the other years got their exam results and the school year would end. Mrs Weasley, however, had nearly ordered Dumbledore to let Harry, Ron, and Ginny come to The Burrow a few days early. The Headmaster had agreed, with the stipulation that Harry would at least spend one full week at the Dursleys this Summer.

Harry didn’t think it mattered where he’d end up this summer. He didn’t want to think about what was yet to come anyway. He also specifically did not want to think about how, in the span of a couple of hours, he had lost his best friend, his godfather and his other friends had been seriously injured. And it was all his fault.

Chapter Text

Burrow your feelings.

Harry woke up after another night of restless sleep. After a year of having Voldemort mess with his sleep, he was used to functioning on little sleep. That wasn’t the problem. No, the issue was the content of the nightmares this time around. The previous summer he’d been dreaming about the graveyard and Cedric every night, to the point that even Dudley had noticed. Harry realized that he probably preferred those dreams, as bad as they were. At least he was not fully responsible for what had happened then. Now, however… Night after night he saw Hermione get hit by that purple fire, unable to do anything about it but look away, only to see Sirius disappear into the Veil. Some nights he’d see Sirius go first, to then hear the St. Mungo’s healers explain how they had been too late to save Hermione.

Harry opened his eyes and turned over to look at Ron’s bed. It was already empty, like every other morning this week. The sun was beaming its rays through the haphazardly opened curtains. He could hear Mrs Weasley going through the kitchen, probably cleaning up after breakfast. A week had passed since Harry, Ron and Ginny had come back to the Burrow. The memories of the memorial and the funeral were hazy like he’d been in a daze during them. Considering the way he had been on auto-pilot during those days that did not surprise him. The one thing he remembered clearly was the discussion with Hermione's parents. One reason he remembered was because he had tried to say how sorry he was and that it was all his fault. Apparently, somebody, Dumbledore most likely, had already explained to them what happened. They had assured him that they did not blame him, but Harry had an awful feeling that they just didn’t understand how stupid he had been. How could they? Harry had no idea how much Hermione had kept them in the loop of what was happening or how acquainted her parents had become with magic. Another reason was the cat currently looking at him from the window sill. They had decided that as Crookshanks was part-kneazel and thus magical, he’d stay with Ginny from now on instead of in the muggle world with Hermione’s parents.

Crookshanks stared at him unwaveringly. It kind of unnerved Harry, like the cat was judging his behaviour. Turning away from him, Harry got up and pulled on some clothes, and went about his morning ablutions. Slowly making his way downstairs, he paused on the bottom landing. Every morning he had to make this decision: continue into the kitchen and be confronted with Ron, Ginny, and Mr and Mrs Weasley or slip out the backdoor and make his way to the trees surrounding the pond. Most days he chose the latter, only trying for breakfast if the previous days of eating little had caught up with him. This morning was no different, so Harry slipped out of the backdoor quietly.

The sun hit his face, bathing him in its warm rays. Harry supposed he was lucky that the weather had been good the last couple of days. He rather not think about being cooped up indoors all day. Especially having promised Dumbledore that he would not step out of the protective wards surrounding the Burrow for any reason whatsoever. Not until the Headmaster would come to collect Harry to bring him over to Little Whinging for his mandatory week with the Dursleys. It was important to keep the protection given to Harry by Lilly’s sacrifice as long as possible. Harry was beginning to look forward to it. The Dursleys wouldn’t care at all about what happened, and they’d be happy if Harry avoided them.

Harry now understood Lily Potter’s death truly had been a sacrifice. As if losing his best friend and his Godfather in the same night had not been enough, he was also finally encumbered with the why of it all. Dumbledore had told him the prophecy in his office, directly after the battle. Voldemort had come specifically to kill Harry that Halloween night. They were prophesized to kill each other, even if Voldemort did not know about that part.

Harry sat down with his back against a tree, pulling his knees up and dropping his head on his arms. This was the position he spend most days in. Listening while the wind rustled the leaves of the trees around him. Feeling the sun on his skin and hearing the soft indistinct noises of life going on around him. With closed eyes and in an upright foetal position he sat, willing himself to not think about it all but failing miserably.

“Harry?” a soft voice said, startling Harry. He jumped up, grabbing for his wand only to realize he didn’t have it with him. Scolding himself for dozing off and being so out of it he had actually forgotten his wand, he looked up to see Remus Lupin looking at him with a sad smile.

“Remus,” Harry greeted softly, “what are you doing here?” He took a second look at Remus. His old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was looking particularly shabby and tired. “Are you all right?” Harry asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Remus noted. He hesitated. “Molly has been sending owls,” he admitted. “She’s of the opinion that I should not be alone right now. And … she also thinks you’ve not been doing so well.”

Harry did not look at him, not wanting to see the emotion on the man’s face. “I’m just dealing with it all,” he said with a shrug, scowling at a tree.

“Are you? Dealing? Because to be honest, I’d be surprised if you were,” Remus said. “I mean … I keep waiting for Padfoot to come around and announce it has been a prank this whole time.”

Harry did look up at this. Memories of Sirius and Remus entertaining Harry with stories about the Marauders’ most hilarious pranks shooting through his mind. Immediately, an overwhelming surge of mixed emotion rose up inside of him. Guilt and self-loathing, grief and anger.

It must’ve shown on his face because Remus immediately reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t!” Harry snapped while flinching backwards. “I don’t want to hear about how it isn’t my fucking fault they're dead! Because it is! If I hadn’t been so stupid, if I had just realized that Snape did get my message, if I had just insisted that I go alone then-“

“Then you’d have died that night,” Remus interrupted. “Is that what you would have preferred?”

“I’m marked for death anyway! Does it really matter when it happens?” Harry retorted angrily.

Remus looked pained but also slightly puzzled. “What do you... Are you talking about the prophecy? Did Dumbledore finally tell you the prophecy?”

“What do you mean ‘finally’? You mean you knew?” Harry immediately countered. “Why does everyone always know things about me that I don’t? First, it was this connection I share with Voldemort, then it was you thinking I might be possessed by him, then it was the exact reason why I needed to learn Occlumency, and to top it off you already knew the prophecy!” Harry had worked up quite a bit of steam at this point. “I mean, I spent the first eleven fucking years of my life being told not to ask questions, so if you don’t tell me anything I’ll never know anything!” He started as he realized what he said, that he had let that last part slip in his anger and turned away.

Remus did not respond immediately. He merely walked up to Harry and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Harry tried to shrug him off but Remus held on. “I’m so sorry Harry. Even if it is your fault, like you’ve been trying very hard to convince me and yourself of, I’d still not be angry with you. Do you know why? Many people, both older and wiser than you, have been manipulated by Voldemort. This connection you have only made it easier for him to do so. Do you know when I would have been angry with you? On a pure egotistical level? If Voldemort actually did kidnap Sirius and you had done nothing about it! I understand that you're angry at everything and everyone and completely overrun by grief at the same time. Please remember that you’re not alone in that”

Harry finally shrugged himself free and started walking back to the Burrow  . “Can we please talk about something else?” he said curtly, “I’ve been trying to not think about it.”

“Ah,” Remus responded, obviously reluctant to let the subject slide. “Well, er… I’m staying at the Burrow for the next two weeks until you go to the Dursleys. So please feel free to talk to me if you do want to talk about it.”

Harry didn’t respond and they continued their short walk back in silence. As Harry entered the kitchen, Mrs Weasley looked up from where she was applying an anti-scarring potion on Ron’s arms. This was maybe the biggest reason why Harry avoided the other inhabitants of the Burrow. Every time he saw the red lines from where the brain had latched itself onto Ron, he felt the familiar mix of emotions that had only just managed to suppress after his talk with Remus.

“Good morning, Harry, we just finished breakfast but if you feel up to eating anything I’ll gladly make you something!” Mrs Weasley said with a smile. Harry’s stomach protested the very idea of food so he politely declined and excused himself. He felt Ron’s eyes follow his escape. While ascending the first flight of stairs, he could hear the faint voices of Remus and Mrs Weasley talking, discussing him. With an angry huff, he retreated to Ron’s bedroom.

-In Her Memory-

A couple of days later, after having come to the conclusion that his strategy of self-isolation was not working, Harry was flying around the Weasley’s Quidditch pitch. Flying had always been his escape from troubles that took place on the ground. After having been banned for two of the three matches last year, it felt good to finally be up in the air again. It also was important to concentrate on flying, and not let your mind wander on the “what ifs,” lest you end up in one of the fruit trees. There was also the added distraction in the form of Ginny, with whom Harry had not flown before. He’d only seen her play seeker in one full match last year, but even here in the less-than-favourable conditions and with the old and worn-out quaffle, Harry could see that she really was a chaser rather than a seeker. A really good chaser actually and not just because Ron played keeper. Ron’s problem was nerves, but here at the Burrow, without an audience, he was a decent player.

When Remus joined them they played two against two, both teams having a keeper and field player. If Remus did not feel up to playing, which was most of the time as he preferred to read, they played games of rotating quidditch. One player played as keeper, one as a defensive field player, and one as an offensive field player. After every attempt to score a goal, they would rotate. The first person to score 10 goals would win. For Harry, this had the added bonus that he got to play both chaser and keeper, positions with which he had no real experience. While these games were fun, they were eagerly waiting for Fred and George to come around during the weekend, which they had promised to do.

Harry had not seen them since the memorial, as they had been very busy preparing their shop for the grand opening on August first. Who he had seen was Bill. He had come by the Burrow with Fleur Delacour, the former Tri-Wizard Champion for Beauxbatons, to announce they were engaged. Harry had no idea they had been dating and was quite sure that Ron didn’t either, judging by his shocked face during the entirety of the announcement dinner. However, this could also just be Ron’s normal reaction to seeing the Veela, who he had asked to the Yule Ball in a fit of self-proclaimed insanity. While Harry might still be stuck in his own head most of the time, even he could not miss Mrs Weasley and Ginny’s reactions to Fleur. Even though he couldn’t understand why, it was clear to them that they did not approve of Bill’s French fiancée.

“Hey, Potter! Watch out where you’re going!”

Harry shook his head to clear away his contemplative state and noticed he had almost drifted into the canopy of the trees surrounding the pitch. He looked up to see Ginny speeding past him and scoring a simple goal.

“Come on you two,” she called out while smirking, “at least try to give me a challenge!” Maybe it was because of the comparatively very small amount of people at the Burrow each day, with the twins now living in Diagon Alley but he had never had so much contact with Ginny. Come to think of it, he could count the number of real conversations he had with her on one hand. There was last Christmas when he had been the biggest prat and she forced him to pull his head out of his ass, and that time they planned Harry’s break-in of Umbridge’s office which resulted in them being chased out of the library for eating chocolate eggs.  

“Oh, you want a challenge you say?” he called back.

“Yes, that would be a nice change of pace! If you keep this up, you’ll never make the team next year! Even if you are captain, you’d probably have to bench yourself!” she shot back.

“Hey, shut up Ginny!” Ron growled, “Don’t you go at him like that!” Ron flew forward while Ginny took over the Keeper position. Harry flew down to get the quaffle, which had fallen after Ginny had scored her goal. While flying back up, he came up with a game plan. While Ron had gotten a new broom last year, it had nothing on Harry’s Firebolt. If he could goad him further away from the goal, he would be able to simply speed past him. He could then swerve while rushing towards the hoop and fire at the goal. If he had enough speed, his aim didn’t have to be that accurate while throwing.

Taking his position opposite Ron, Harry began making small feints to the left and the right. Each time Ron moved to intercept a possible run, he moved slightly further away from the goal. After a couple of feints, Harry moved forward changing direction twice in quick succession. The resulting zigzag sent Ron to the left while Harry sped past him on the right side. Between Ron having to turn and the Firebolt’s superior speed, Harry had enough space to shoot in an instance. He flew straight for the hoop and Ginny.

Ginny was flying a bit to the right, which struck Harry as strange. Surely she knew she wasn’t in the centre, she was too good a player for such a mistake. Speeding towards the hoop, Harry aimed at the left side. The power behind his throw was lacking, but the speed with which he was moving made up for it, even if his aim was off. What he did not expect, however, was for Ginny to lunge towards the side like she knew which side he was going to aim at.

Without much problem, she got a hand behind the quaffle and knocked it away.

“How the hell did you get that,” Ron demanded, “You weren’t even flying in the centre!”

 “Yeah, I even aimed at the side you weren’t defending!” Harry added. Ginny’s smile turned smug at their exclamations.

“That’s what they call strategy. See, my dives to the right are way better, and I’m right-handed.”

“So?” Harry answered.

“So, she purposefully moved to her left, to protect her weaker side, while simultaneously baiting you into aiming at her good side” a voice called from the ground. The three players looked down to see Remus watching them.

“Yes! Exactly! I didn’t know you knew anything about Quidditch!” Ginny answered enthusiastically, while Ron exclaimed “Oh, of course!”.  

“Well,” Remus called back, “you cannot spend seven in years in a dormitory with James and Sirius and not pick up on Quidditch strategies, even if you don’t play yourself.” At the mention of Prongs and Padfoot, his smile wavered.

Harry had also stiffened at the mention of Sirius and he felt anger swell. The next play saw Ron as the attacker, while Ginny defended and Harry played keeper. Ginny managed to force Ron to fly too much to the left of the goal. The angle to the goal had become too small and he missed his shot.

Harry flew forward to take the defensive position, while Ginny retrieved the quaffle. While cruising past him to her starting position, she looked at him and said: “Weren’t you going to give me a challenge, Potter?” While Harry had enjoyed her teasing earlier, his mood had darkened significantly since and her challenge did not improve it. Scowling, he watched her closely to see what she would do.

Ginny had a great shot, so Harry’s best tactic was to copy her defensive manoeuvre against Ron and force her to the sides of the pitch. That was easier said than done. Ginny flew right at him, forcing Harry to either wait or guess which side she would choose to pass him on. Just when he thought she would swerve to her right, Ginny lopped the quaffle over him while diving underneath him herself. The second it took for him to decide whether to follow the quaffle or Ginny was enough for her to have enough space to make a safe catch.

Harry spun around as quickly as he could and sped after her. He caught up with her quite easily but his simmering anger in combination with the excitement of flying and the annoyance with her teasing made him miscalculate his speed. The bump he had meant to give her was much too forceful. Because he came from behind, the impact forced her forward. The sudden change of direction, speed, and acceleration proved too much for her old broom and she lost control of it. She overshot the hoop and crashed straight into a nearby apple tree.

“Harry, what the bloody hell are you doing!” Ron bellowed while Remus ran towards the tree.

“Fuck Ginny, I’m so sorry, are you alright?” Harry cried, speeding towards the apple tree himself. He moved some branches away so he could see into the canopy, only to see Ginny scowling at him.

“What the hell is your problem, Potter?” she demanded.

“I… I’m... er. Sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose! It was an accident!” Harry stammered his apology.

“I know you hate yourself, but don’t take it out on us!” Ginny bit back, giving him a two-fingered salute and began climbing down. Remus waited at the bottom of the tree, wand ready to heal. She had some small superficial scratches, luckily nothing a good Episkey wouldn’t fix. However, when she went to walk back to the Burrow, she let out a small squeak of pain when she put her left foot on the uneven ground. The same ankle she had broken during the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. Ron quickly moved to support her on that side.

“Take her back to the house, Ron,” Remus urged, “I can’t heal bones.” He added something in a low voice that Harry couldn’t quite hear. They watched as brother and sister walked back towards the house.

“You are so much like James,” Remus called out to Harry. Harry, who had expected to be berated for his reckless flying, landed with a frown. “James could be incredibly stubborn, especially when it came to talking about emotions.” Remus continued. “You had to wait for him to come to you to discuss something, forcing the issue never worked. I remember when his parents, your grandparents, died. It took him about a week to open up to your mother.” Remus put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We can all see you’re struggling. That’s perfectly normal. Ron and Ginny are as well. Just remember that I am, that we are, here for you when you need us..” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder and made to walk back to the house. “In the meantime, try not to do anything too reckless.” he added over his shoulder, “You are, after all, also Lily’s son!”

“Remus,” Harry called hesitatingly. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it all just yet. But he also couldn’t let any more accidents like that happen. Remus waited patiently for him to continue.

“I... I’m not … not quite ready.” Harry murmured, “but I promise I will come to you when I am..” Something that Remus had suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, did you know my grandparents, my father’s parents?”

Remus nodded with a smile. “Yes, I knew them. I gather you’ve never asked after them?” He frowned, “I guess we didn’t talk about them last year, apart from how they took in Sirius after he ran away from home. I imagine you’d be interested to learn about them?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “I mean I guess they must have died before my parents did? But apart from that, I don’t know anything about them.” With a puzzled expression, he added, mostly to himself: “although I think I might have seen them somewhere….”

“I was actually planning to talk to you about the Potter estate after you’d return from the Dursleys and before I have to… leave… at the end of August.”

“You’re leaving?” Harry shot up, “Where are you going?”

Remus had a distinctly unpleasant expression on his face. “Professor Dumbledore asked me to go undercover with the werewolf packs, to try to win them over to our side. As I am the only one capable of doing so, I see no reason to refuse. I only asked for some time to make sure you were alright, which he wholeheartedly agreed with.”

“But you don’t want to?” Harry prodded.

“No, but everyone has to sometimes do things they’d rather not. It’s like that saying that Professor Dumbledore is so fond of: Sometimes you have to choose between what is easy and what is right. I’m going to do what is right.” he concluded with finality. “Now, let’s walk back to the garden and I’ll tell you about your grandparents.”

While Harry really wanted to know more about the werewolf packs, it would be hypocritical to make Remus talk about something he obviously didn’t want to talk about. Together they walked to the garden but before they took a seat, Harry said he wanted to make sure Ginny was okay first.

-In Her Memory-

Mrs Weasley had given Ginny a small dose of Skele-Gro, just to be sure, and after apologizing profusely for reckless flying to all three Weasley present, Harry made his way back to the garden. Remus was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. He looked up as Harry approached.

“Ginny will be okay,” he told the older man. “Did you say you had planned to talk to me about the Potter Estate? What is that?”

“Yes, there are some issues to be resolved related to your inheritance, some of which Professor Dumbledore will talk to you about, some of which I will handle with you,” Remus replied.

“Inheritance?” Harry inquired.

“Yes, as far as we know you are the last Potter left. I remember Hagrid telling me about your reaction to seeing your vault for the first time, he said you were quite shocked,” Remus said, laughing. “However, as Sirius was your godfather and he did not have heirs of his own, well, as far as we know at least, he designated you as his heir. However, Professor Dumbledore thinks it likely that the House of Black put a hex on the family name, enforcing that only pure-bloods can inherit Black property.”

Harry could very well envision the Blacks doing that. “But wasn’t Sirius disinherited after running away? How could he have inherited it in the first place?” he asked.

Remus looked thoughtful, “As I said, there are some issues with that inheritance, which is why Professor Dumbledore will talk to you about it rather than me. He has a far better understanding of the complexity of inheritance magic than I do. I only know that the present situation might lead to different heirs: a legal heir and a magical heir. Luckily, the Potter inheritance is straightforward. Like I said, as far as we know you are the last living Potter, so you’ll inherit the entire Potter estate when you turn seventeen.”

Frowning, Harry said: “What does that mean exactly? That I’ll ‘inherit the entire Potter estate’?”

“An estate is basically everything that is owned by someone, like money, buildings, and stocks. I’m not completely sure how James and Lily set up their vaults, but you have already seen some of that wealth of course. Things like stocks cannot be inherited until you turn seventeen. You also do not have access to the main Potter vaults, as the keys to those vaults can also only be inherited by adults.”

Harry swallowed at the idea of getting even richer than he already was. “And … and do we, er do I make a lot of money from those stocks?” he asked hesitantly.

Remus smiled at Harry’s reluctance to accept his apparent wealth. “I’m not sure, James and Lily never talked about it to me, and almost 15 years have gone by. What I can tell you is which stocks you should have and to answer that question, we have to talk about your family history first. You see, the Potter family has always had an affinity for potion making.”

“Potions, really?” Harry said, surprised. Remus laughed again.

“Yes, really. I remember James telling us about how the surname ‘Potter’ came from a forefather, who provided potions to his muggle neighbours. I can’t remember his name, but he came to be known as “The Potterer.”

“So the Potter wealth was made through potions?” Harry concluded. He wondered how he could be so bad at potions if he apparently came from a long line of potion masters.

His confusion must have shown on his face, as Remus said: “If you’re wondering why you don’t seem to have inherited those potion skills, I’ll tell you that James himself didn’t either. Yes, even if James had inherited or learned Fleamont’s potion skills, he never had the patience for potion brewing. Your mother, on the other hand, was a natural. You can imagine she was an instant hit with your grandfather.”

“Wait, Fleamont?” Harry interrupted incredulously. “That’s my grandfather’s name, Fleamont?”

“Yes. Apparently, your great-grandmother came from the “Fleamont” family. James said it was her dying wish to prevent her maiden name from dying out so she convinced her husband, your great-grandfather Henry, to name their son “Fleamont.” It was also James’ middle name, which in turn is the only reason I know this story because Sirius used to tease him mercilessly for it when we found out.”

Harry snorted. “I can imagine!” That was totally something that Sirius would do, he thought, both fondly and sadly.

“Fleamont Potter is actually the one responsible for most of your wealth,” Remus continued his story. “Beside potion skills, the other thing that Potter men have inherited throughout the century is a mop of unruly black hair. Fleamont developed a hair potion to try to tame it. It’s called ‘Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion’, I believe it still quite popular?”

“Yes!” Harry recognized the name. It somehow reminded him of the Yule Ball, but he wasn’t sure why or why it seemed to be a sad memory. He shook himself and refocused on Remus.

“Fleamont started Sleekeazy to sell his hair potion and sold the majority of the business when he retired. A couple of years after that James was born.”

Harry looked puzzled. “My father was born after my grandfather was retired? How old was he when he retired?”

“I’m not sure exactly how old he and your grandmother Euphemia were when they got James, but I’d guess they were both around 60? As far as James knew, they had been trying for decades. He was quite the “miracle” as Euphemia used to say, which was something he was very fond to remind us of.” Remus told Harry with a fond smile. 

Harry smiled back, that did seem like something his father would say, as far as he knew him. “Did they also die during the first war?” Harry asked curiously.

Remus sighed. “Yes, but they both died of Dragon Pox, a few days apart, in 1979. They did attend your parents' wedding, but they didn’t live to hear about Lily being pregnant,” he said sadly. “But, to get back to the subject of the Potter estate, Fleamont sold Sleekeazy but retained a percentage in stocks. That I know for sure, but I think James also said that the Potters created early versions of Skele-Gro and Pepper-up Potion, which probably also contributed quite a bit of wealth.”

“So the Potter estate consists of money and stocks in Sleekeazy.” Harry summarized. He was amazed at his family’s involvement in potions that were still used so often.

“Yes,” Remus confirmed. “but you also inherited Potter Manor and the cottage in Godric’s Hollow, where you lived with your parents. And the Invisibility cloak, of course”

“I own a manor?” Harry asked, swallowing slowly. He supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised. He had seen the difference between his own vault and the Weasley vault. It bothered him, however, that he never had thought to research the Potter family history.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” he said sincerely. “How come I didn’t know about this before, though?”

“The Black family inheritance issues I mentioned meant we had to talk inheritance anyway, so it made sense to do it now. The Order also had to vacate Headquarters until the inheritance issues are solved. And while the Potter family was never as, err, well as Sirius would say, as ‘batshit crazy’ as the Black family, there will still be some ancient protective spells and wards on the property. So, we might have to ask if you’re willing to offer the manor as a base of operations for the Order. But that’s a question for the future. You’ve seen what can happen to a magical home if it’s uninhabited for a long time, and that was with a house-elf present. Potter Manor has been abandoned since 1980 and both your parents and grandparents did not have a house elf. It’s hard to say which state the Manor is in. Professor Dumbledore said he was going to take you there sometime this summer, to see whether it could possibly be used as a headquarter and to update the wards and protective enchantments.”

“You want to use Potter Manor as headquarters for Order?” Harry asked unbelievingly and a bit angrily. “I’m not even allowed to be a member, but you count on me to provide a headquarters?” he demanded.

“Well er, yes, I understand your … your frustration,” Remus answered uneasily. “I pointed that out to Professor Dumbledore, but I’m not sure whether he plans to heed my advice on it.”

“He’d better just come out and ask me, I’m not in the mood to deal with people keeping any more secrets from me,” Harry said curtly. His scowl lessened what and he attempted a smile. “That’s why I’m thankful that you told me all this about my family, it’s given me a lot to think about!”

Remus stood up, as did Harry. “It was my pleasure Harry, it’s what I am here at the Burrow, after all, to talk with you and help you.” They walked back to the house in slightly better spirits. The conversation with Remus had given Harry plenty of distraction for the coming days.

-In Her Memory-

When Harry woke up the next Saturday, he decided that he would tell Ron about the Potter estate this day. He had wanted to talk with him about it for the last couple of days, but he had not yet had a real conversation with him since he had been here. Without Hermione, they had to find a way to re-establish their relationship as a duo, rather than two parts of a trio. However, to do that they would need to discuss her first, which he still didn’t feel up for and he wasn’t quite sure if Ron was up for it. He moved downstairs to join the family for breakfast. Ron was already up, as he had kept up his new habit of rising early.

He entered the kitchen to a chorus of “good mornings.” He took place beside Ginny and across from Ron, who was currently feasting on a plate of bacon. Mrs Weasley handed him a glass of pumpkin juice and he got himself some breakfast.

After a couple of minutes of small talk during which Remus joined the group, Harry looked up at Ron to get his attention. “Hey, Ron I need to talk to you about some-.”

He was interrupted by a small, squeaking gasp from Ron, who was looking out the window. Harry followed his gaze and saw Fleur coming back from a morning walk. Fleur had been staying at the Burrow so she could get to know Bill’s family better, to the chagrin of both Ginny and Mrs Weasley. Harry understood that Fleur was exceptionally beautiful, but Ron’s reaction irked him nonetheless. He wasn’t the only one who was annoyed.

“Really, Ron. Don’t be pathetic!” Ginny grumbled. “She isn’t that pretty”

Ron merely shook his head and pointed out the window, as Fleur came in. His eyes had become slightly watery. “I’m not talking about Fleur,” he said. Harry could see two owls flying towards the kitchen window.

“The O.W.L. results are here.”

Chapter Text

Harry watched with trepidation as the two owls flew through the kitchen window. A quick look around the kitchen confirmed to Harry that everyone realized at once what was happening. It was a strange sort of feeling. Accepting the fact that the O.W.L. results had arrived was to accept the fact that Ron and he wouldn’t be opening and comparing their results together with Hermione. Possibly even making a little fun of her for how she would probably have freaked out when the owls were spotted. The sight of the two owls, where there should have been three, drove this point home quite harshly. However, a refusal to accept that the results had arrived was also unthinkable. Not only would the fear and excitement, which was the result of facing the results that could determine your entire post-Hogwarts life, eat you up. It would also be an affront to the memory of Hermione to dismiss something she would be so incredibly excited for. Even Fleur, who had not really known Hermione, looked like she understood the tension in the kitchen, or at least felt the tension in the air.

Mrs Weasley got up to gather the letters and handed them to Harry and Ron with a small and forced smile. “Here you go, Harry,” she said, “Ron.” Harry’s stomached twisted and turned very uncomfortably as he accepted the letter. Slowly, his right index finger fumbling but breaking the wax Hogwarts seal nonetheless, he opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

He looked over his results a couple of times. While the kitchen came back into focus in his peripheral, Harry's stomach turned even more as he looked at the small black “E” after “Potions.” While he had not expected an Outstanding at all, the realization that he could not continue to get a NEWT struck him painfully. He could not go on to become an Auror, which considering the content of the Prophecy would have been the most obvious career path to take.

The failing grade for Divination was to be expected, as well as the failing grade for History of Magic, considering he had collapsed halfway through the examination. He had collapsed and had acted on a  false vision, implanted in his head by Voldemort, which was the reason why only Ron and he were now receiving their O.W.L. results. Harry briefly wondered whether Hermione had managed to score straight O’s across the board before he looked up from his letter and met Ron’s eyes.

They looked at each other for a brief moment, before they were interrupted by Mrs Weasley tentatively asking “Well Ron, Harry, how did you do?” Harry saw a grim determination settle in Ron’s eyes before it gave way to tears. “Not nearly well enough,” Ron managed, while the tears ran down his cheeks.

Even if Harry had tried to stop his own tears from flowing, the sight of his best friend in tears would be enough to do anyone in. The moment he felt Remus’ arms come around him, the dam gave way completely. He had experienced this kind of hug only once before when Mrs Weasley had put her arms around him in the infirmary after the graveyard, a little over a year ago. He had assumed then that that had felt like how it was to have a loving mother. He couldn’t quite remember if he had cried, but there was no mistaking the tears now. Remus may not have the parental experience of Mrs Weasley but his relation to Harry was through James. Harry was Remus’s best friend’s son and even though Harry did not question that Mrs Weasley was very fond of him, his relation to Remus was just more personal.

So, he let the tears flow as the harsh reality set in. Rationally he had understood of course, that he would never see Hermione and Sirius again. But there is a world of difference between rationally understanding something and really feeling the impact of what that means.

He let Remus steer him into the sitting room where he was sat on the couch, Remus taking place next to him. Ron was similarly steered into a comfortable chair, while Mrs Weasley hovered next to him. It was Ron who broke the silence.

“It's so weird to realize that we’ll never see her again,” he said with a thick voice. Harry felt a small twang of annoyance at the chosen pronoun but felt immediately bad for it. He could understand Ron thinking primarily of Hermione at this moment. In any case, he was unable to form words to say something anyway.

It was Remus who spoke next. “It’ll feel like that, for quite some time yet,” he said. “It took me almost three years to come to terms with what happened between James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter. Even then, I think, I still didn’t quite accept what had happened until we all met Sirius in the Shrieking Shack.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder and looked at Ron. “That’s also where I feel like I truly met you two and Hermione,” he continued, “For Hermione to realize my problem on her own, and still trust me… that’s quite unheard of. At that moment, it became clear to me exactly what kind of person Hermione was. She was an extraordinary kind witch.”

Ginny, who had followed them into the sitting room looked like she was trying hard not to cry as well. “She really was,” she agreed. “It meant so much to me when she sought me out the first full day back at Hogwarts in my second year. Not only did she try to comfort me after the Dementor came into the train compartment but she also offered her friendship and support the day after.”

“I had no idea she did that, but it doesn’t surprise me at all,” Ron mumbled. Harry agreed. Going above and beyond for someone is just something Hermione did. Even when she was working herself to the bone in third year, she still found time to help Hagrid with Buckbeak. And it was Hermione who came up with the Murtlap Essence to heal the cut on Harry’s hand after his detentions with Umbridge. In fact, it made Harry wonder if he had ever really done something for someone else like that.    

His attention was caught by Ron, who was inexplicably grinning through his tears. “Hey Harry, remember that time she punched Malfoy in the face? That was bloody brilliant!”

Mrs Weasley gasped in shock, while Ginny demanded: “What! How come I don’t know this story? What happened?”

“Yeah, Malfoy was making fun of the fact that Buckbeak was going to be executed, and Hermione just snapped and punched him square in the face,” Ron said with a reminiscent smile. “The look of total disbelief on Malfoy’s face… it was fantastic.”

“I wish I could’ve seen that,” Ginny replied. “I may have punched him myself. How big of a bloody arsehole do you have to be to make fun of someone’s pet dying,” she said with a scowl.

“Ginevra!” Mrs Weasley remonstrated, “That’s no language for a young lady! Violence is never the way to go!”

“If he makes one joke about Hermione next year, I’ll do much worse than punching him in the face,” Ron muttered angrily. Mrs Weasley shot him a reproachful look, but Harry couldn’t help but agree with Ron. He could very well see himself or Ron losing their cool in such a situation.

“What is your favourite memory of Hermione, Harry?” Remus asked, obviously seeing this as an opportunity to get Harry to talk.

Harry thought about it a second, while Mrs Weasley went back to the kitchen to prepare some tea for everyone. “I’m not sure, there are so many memories to choose from. I guess it would be the time we became friends when she lied to McGonagall about the troll incident.”

“She did tell me about that,” Ginny said. “I think you two never quite realized how awful those first two months were for her, and you certainly didn’t help matters, Ron!” Ginny looked upset.

Ron looked thoroughly chastised. “I don’t think we even apologized for being such gits, just thanked her for saving our asses,” he said, with a frowning look towards Harry. Harry decided this wasn’t the right time to note that it was primarily Ron who had been an arse.

“Really Ron, you’d think we forgot to teach you manners,” Mrs Weasley said, walking in with the tea tray levitated in front of her.

“Ginny, could you explain what you meant about how awful Hermione’s first two months at Hogwarts were?” Remus asked.

“Well, to be fair I’m not completely sure,” Ginny responded musingly, eyes red. “She never directly told me, but I always got the feeling that she didn’t really have friends before Hogwarts, you know? She certainly didn’t mention any to me at least.” She accepted a cup of tea from her mother and took a sip. “So I always assumed she saw coming to Hogwarts as a chance to make friends. Especially considering the whole accidental magic thing she probably struggled with before she was told about her being a witch.” She threw an ugly towards Ron. “And then to be told she’s a nightmare and that it’s no wonder she hasn’t got any friends. No wonder she was crying in that bathroom!”

“Ron! We didn’t raise you to be a bully!” Mrs Weasley said angrily.

“We became friends with her anyway, so don’t give me that” Ron grumbled, “I don’t need to be reminded of how much an idiot I used to be.”

“Used to be?” Ginny laughed, a bit maliciously. “Remember when you realized that she was a girl, just in time to be turned down for the Yule Ball and you spend the entire evening of the ball angry and sulking? That was only a year and a half ago!”

“Ginny! That’s enough!” Mrs Weasley intervened before Ron could respond, as he was becoming increasingly angry, his cheeks, neck, and ears becoming alarmingly red.

Before he could say anything, however, Fleur, who had been quiet until that point, spoke up, probably looking to calm the situation. “I did not really know Hermione but I remember how beautiful she looked at the Yule Ball. Elle était plus belle. And she went with Viktor. I can always… er … apprécier when someone can look past l’image d’une personne.” Harry wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her sneak a glare towards Mrs Weasley and Ginny at that statement.

They were preoccupied, however, as Ron had sprung up at the mention of Viktor, scowled at Fleur as best as he apparently could, and stormed to the garden. Mrs Weasley shot a meaningful look towards Ginny, the kind of look that Harry couldn’t interpret. Ginny had no problems whatsoever.

“Why should I go apologize, everything I said was true! Right, Harry?” Harry blanched. The last thing he wanted to do was to interfere in Weasley family business. As he remained mute, Ginny violently exhaled through her nose. “Fine.” She scowled at Harry, and then stood up and went after Ron.

Remus squeezed Harry’s shoulder again. “Are you alright, Harry?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” he answered. He obviously wasn’t, and he knew that Remus knew that also. But he honestly had no idea how he felt at this point. Certainly, their discussion on some of Hermione’s finest moments had helped a bit, making it easier to think back fondly rather than only sadly, but he found it hard to realize that they wouldn’t experience any new moments with her.

“Well, in that case,” Remus said instead, “why don’t you tell us how many O.W.L.’s you achieved?”

“Oh! yes!” Mrs Weasley added. “Let me get Ron’s letter because he didn’t say.”

Harry gave his letter to Remus, who looked it over critically. “Seven O.W.L.’s! And an Outstanding in Defence Against the Dark Arts! You should be proud of yourself, Harry!” he said with a proud smile. It was soon replaced with a frown, however. “But you don’t seem to be very happy with the results?” he added.

Harry didn’t respond. How could he tell Remus that he agreed with Ron’s assessment of their grades? He might have managed seven O.W.L.’s but immediately after he had been catastrophically stupid. Maybe if he had studied harder Hermione and Sirius would still have been alive. Why hadn’t Hermione, Ron and he studied healing spells considering how often he was hurt? Maybe then he could have done something to help save Hermione. And what good was an Outstanding if he hadn’t been able to protect Sirius during battle? So he chose the easy way out.

“I didn’t get an Outstanding in Potions which means I can’t get the Potion Newt necessary for Auror training,” he said sadly. He looked at Fleur for a moment and then shot Remus a look that said ‘and considering what I’m supposed to do in the future that seemed like the obvious choice, right?’

Remus looked thoughtful for a moment. “I can understand why you would want to be an Auror but I don’t think it is a disaster if you wouldn’t become one. Everything you’d learn during training there you can learn from Alastor or Nymphadora.” Harry nodded, feeling a bit better about his prospects. “I would also like to advise you to not let Voldemort control your life, including your career path.”

Before Harry could answer, Fleur spoke up. “Has Ron ever told you that Bill got twelve Newts?” she asked Harry, who frowned. “Er, yeah, I think he has mentioned it at some point, why?”

Fleur smiled. “Do you think that he actually took twelve courses as well? Can you imagine how that class schedule would look like?”

Harry thought back to Hermione’s third year when she had to use a Timeturner just to make it to all her classes. “But if he didn’t take twelve courses, how was he able to sit for all those OWL and NEWT exams?” he asked the French girl.

It was Remus who answered, apparently cottoning on to what Fleur was saying. “Because taking a course is not a prerequisite for being allowed to sit an O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exam,” he said with a thankful smile towards Fleur. “Not every magical child in Britain goes to Hogwarts, so there have to be exams for those who don’t follow the courses.”

“Yes,” Fleur agreed, “that is what Bill did. He only took the classes he needed for curse breaking, but studied the other courses on his own.”

Harry looked puzzled. “Which means… er… oh wait! Does that mean I could study Potions on my own and still sit the N.E.W.T. exam?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes! That’s exactly what it means!” Remus said. His look turned thoughtful. “But to be honest, Potions would be one of the harder subjects to study on your own. It takes a trained eye to see whether a potion is brewed adequately. Whereas, in for example charms or transfiguration, it is easier to see whether a spell has worked or not.”

Harry could see that logic. “That’s something to think about then. But at least I still have the option to become an Auror.” He wasn’t sure if he would have the discipline to self-study an entire course load, but he was willing to try at least.

Ron, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley came back in. Ron’s eyes were bloodshot and he clearly was still a bit irritated, but also surprised. “How did the hell did you manage an O in potions?” he asked Harry. He apparently had only heard the last sentence of the discussion.

“I didn’t, but turns out that doesn’t really matter.” At Ron’s puzzled look, he continued. “Apparently Bill sat exams for courses he didn’t take. I take it you also didn’t get an O in Potions?” At Ron’s confirming head shake, he added: “So if you want, we can study potions ourselves and still sit for the exam.”

“That is what Bill and .. that’s what Bill did,” Mrs Weasley said, skating over almost saying Percy’s name.

“That is actually also kind of what the twins did,” Ginny added. At her mother’s raised eyebrows, she continued: “All that inventing they do, that takes understanding. They just didn’t care about the exam results themselves.”

Mrs Weasley looked a bit shocked, but Harry saw the truth in that statement. Even Hermione had been impressed with their Headless Hats last year. He would have no idea how to even start making a Ton-Tongue Toffee.

“Well, Ron, let’s see your O.W.L. results!” Mrs Weasley said, having recovered from the realization that she had always misinterpreted the Twins' dedication to their studies.  

“Oh, right,” Ron said, extracting the crumpled letter he had stuffed in his pocket when he had stormed out. “I failed Divination and History of Magic.”

His mother made a disapproving noise. Ron was about to defend himself but was cut off by a smiling Mrs Weasley. “What I think you meant to say, is that you managed 7 O.W.L.s! Oh, Ronnie, I’m so proud of you!” She pulled Ron into a huge, bone-crushing hug. He looked over her shoulder to Harry. He silently reiterated his previous statement of “not nearly good enough.”

“And you Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Same as Ron I guess,” he answered. “He got an O in Defence, of course,” Remus added with a proud smile. “Which, considering you didn’t have a teacher actually trying to teach you, is an amazing result.”

Ron didn’t look surprised. “Of course you got an O, you were the teacher Harry!” Ginny smiled her agreement.

“I think that is a promising sign that you can study a course by yourself,” Fleur added.

Both Harry and Ron smiled at that compliment.

After that conversation flowed freely between the six for a while until they all got on with their day. Harry gestured to Ron to wait before leaving the room, as he still wanted to talk to him about what Remus had told him about his family. He wasn’t sure yet whether he wanted to tell Ron about the prophecy. Not when they were still trying to deal with Hermione’s death. He thought it a bad idea to drop something so big, and life-threatening, on his friend. Harry’s strategy of self-isolation might not have worked, but considering how Ron had stormed out over the mention of Krum, he thought Ron wasn’t handling it well either. Harry decided that he would postpone that decision to after his week with the Dursleys and after a chance to talk with Dumbledore.

Of course, starting this conversation with Ron would mean acknowledging the fact that someone close to him had passed away because of his stupidity. He also wasn’t sure how Ron would take the idea that Harry was going to be even richer. He hoped that his problems with jealousy would have abated by now. So, after they made their way to Ron’s sweltering and humid bedroom (it was mid-July after all) and sat down on their respective beds, he took a deep breath.

Staring at the ground he began. “I just wanted to tell you something Remus told me a couple of days ago.” Ron merely looked curious, so he told him what he knew about the Potter estate and the problems with the Black family inheritance.

After he told him everything, he looked up to see his friend's reaction. The first words out of Ron’s mouth were words he had not expected at all.

“I’m sorry Harry… I only now really realize that you lost Sirius as well as Her-Hermione,” he said, swallowing thickly.

“Yes, I noticed you only mentioned her this morning,” Harry snapped, surprising both Ron and himself. He sighed. “I’m sorry Ron, it’s just, remember last summer? I’m trying very hard not to direct my anger at people who don’t deserve it.”

“So you’re really angry all the time?” Ron inquired.

“Obviously,” Harry defended himself.

Ron just looked at him and sighed. “At least promise me that you don’t blame yourself, mate”

“How can I not,” Harry growled. “Hermione even warned us before we went off to the ministry remember? She called it my “saving-people-thing”! And she was right! And now both her and Sirius are gone!” he snapped, angry tears threatening his already unstable composure.

“Yes! And she was right!” Ron snapped back “Which is exactly why we tried to check whether there was any truth to it! And in the end, even Hermione couldn’t deny what the signs seemed to mean!”

“Whatever, Ron. I just wanted to tell you about the Potter estate.” Harry stood up. But before he could leave, Ron pulled him back.

 “Harry, mate. Please,” he said softly. Ron didn’t say anything else, but Harry got the message anyway. Now was not the time to push each other away. He sat back down on the bed.

“So, you’re … er… you’re even richer than you thought, eh?” Ron said, obviously shifting away from a subject they both didn’t really want to discuss.

“yeah I guess, I’m not sure exactly how much I have, though,” Harry said, glad that Ron seemed to take that in stride.

“Maybe you could ask Bill? He might be able to give you an overview or take you into the vaults?” Ron suggested

Harry thought that was a good idea. They continued discussing what Remus had told Harry. As he told Ron about this family’s apparent love for Potion-making, Ron laughed out loud.

“I mean, to be fair, we both somehow managed an E in Potions! The greasy git teaching us is probably just holding us back during class,” he said, making Harry laugh at the way he was referencing Snape. Judging by the look Ron got in his eyes after they were done laughing, Harry was certain that they both remembered the disapproving noise Hermione would have made at such disrespect towards a professor. This in combination with what he had just told Ron about Sleekeazy, sparked the memory that had escaped him during his talk with Remus.

“Did you know that Hermione used almost an entire jar of Sleekeazy before the Yule ball?” he asked Ron. “No wonder she needed almost four hours.” Then, remembering how Ron had stormed out that morning, he quickly added: “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that mate, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” Ron mumbled. “Fleur was right though, this morning, she did look amazing, didn’t she?” he continued with a bit of wonderment in his voice. His mouth twisted into a grim smile “It would’ve been impossible not to realize she was a girl after seeing her in that dress,” making Harry snort. Ron shot an uneasy glance towards him, fidgeting with his bedsheets. He seemed to be building up to something.

“Harry… er… did you … have you …. I mean,” he stuttered and stopped. Taking a deep breath and apparently summoning his courage, he blushed immensely, turned to Harry, and with his eyes closed, asked: “Did you ever think of Hermione in that way?”

“Er, what way?” Harry answered non-plussed. Then, Ron’s hesitance, his blushing, and his statement that Hermione had looked beautiful, not to mention the way he acted during the Yule Ball, all suddenly clicked into place. “Fuck! Ron, you mean…,” he trailed off

“Like she’s a girl, and you’re a boy…?” Ron said with a weird kind of hopefulness in his voice, that Harry couldn’t really place.

Harry didn’t know what to say. He had always thought of Hermione as a kind of sister, but he didn’t think that Ron shared that point of view. But if what Ron was seemingly alluding to was true, it’d be monumental. Disregarding that it meant that Ron actually had the kind of understanding of his own emotions needed to figure that out, it also means that for him losing Hermione was fundamentally different than it was from Harry. Harry and Hermione’s relationship had already reached its peak, he thought. He wouldn’t ever see her as anything other than as a kind of sister and best friend. But Ron, apart from having to say goodbye to one of his best friends, also had to say goodbye to the idea of them as a couple. And Harry wasn’t sure whether Ron had figured that out before her passing, or whether he had figured that out after.

Realizing his continued silence was making Ron very uncomfortable, he asked:” Did you … you know … were you in love with her?”

Ron gaped at him. “What! No, no of course not! I mean, I think not? I just meant, you know, er, have you never thought what it would be like, to, you know, date her?” Harry thought that Ron was beginning to sound very unsure of himself. Ron added quietly: “I’ve heard the rumours about you two after Cho.”

“What rumours?” Harry demanded. “That I and Cho ended because I was secretly in love with Hermione? Come on, Ron, I thought I made it clear that that’s not the case”

“So, you have never, you know…,” Ron inquired softly.

“I’ve only ever seen her as a best friend or a sister,” Harry said. “I’m quite sure that Hermione secretly wished she had siblings, and well, you know my situation, so I guess we just naturally drifted towards each other in that way. It’s different for you of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Ron mumbled.

Hesitantly, Harry inquired further: “So you have thought about dating her?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I mean, after the way she blew up after the Yule Ball and the things she said, it made me wonder you know? About what it would’ve been like if I had asked her before Krum swooped in.” His eyes were glistening now, “but now I’ll never have the chance to find out” he managed to say. Tears silently made their way down his face, it made him look utterly defeated.

In the face of such raw grief and loss, Harry didn’t know what to do. He really wasn’t one to initiate physical contact, as it had always made him a bit uncomfortable. He knew that in the Weasley household, physical contact was almost impossible to avoid. He also knew what Hermione would’ve done in this situation. And isn’t doing what is necessary, even if it makes you uncomfortable, a form of bravery? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered how weird it must seem to other people that he needed to talk himself into doing something so simple as hugging his friend. He stood up to sit down on the bed next to Ron and pulled his taller friend into a hug.

That Harry wasn’t one to initiate physical contact became clear as Ron startled as Harry sat down. No more words were spoken, Harry just awkwardly held on to Ron for a bit. A couple of moments later, Ron gathered himself and shrugged Harry off. He moved away and mumbled an apology.

Harry felt a fleeting moment of pride in his initiation of the contact but pushed it down quickly. Why would you be proud of such a basic interaction? He stood up from the bed, held out his hand for Ron, and simply asked: “Up for some quidditch?” Ron agreed, both determined to never mention what had happened again.

--In Her Memory--

The next Saturday the twins came around for dinner and a bit of quidditch. Harry and Ron asked them for some tips on self-studying potions. Their main advice wasn’t to just brew a lot of potions, but to research how and why different ingredient combinations lead to different reactions. The way Snape had always taught potions was just to give the instruction in class and give essays on the potions as homework. But, as George said, if you want to make Ton-Tongue toffees, you need to understand how to manipulate the standard ingredients of a Swelling Potion, being dried nettles, puffer-fish eyes, and bat-spleen, so the Engorgement Charm used will be activated when it comes into contact with saliva, and then find a way to cook it dry so you can put into the toffees, without it losing its potency.

They recommended some books that could be found in the Hogwarts library: A Rudimentary Guide to Potion Ingredients by Brigid Brewer and Potion Making Techniques by Circe Crouch. Fred had joked that with him and George now gone, those books would actually be available in the library. When pressed on what that meant, the twins displayed yet again that they were smarter than some people gave them credit for.

“You see,” Fred had said,” you know how you can’t keep lending the same book over and over again? Well…”

“We are, of course, more than one person,” George quipped.

“So just like how we talk…

… we also lend the books.”

“First, George would lend it,” said Fred.

“And when I returned it, Fred would immediately take it out again!” George continued.

Ginny had made a quip about how they seemingly had held a book hostage for over three years.

During dinner, the conversation turned darker, as Fred and George told the Weasleys, Harry, Remus, and Fleur about how Diagon Alley was changing day by day. Shops were closing and each day people walked by quicker.

They also reported that an increasing number of pop-ups shops were showing up, selling all kinds of jewellery supposedly enchanted with protective charms. Mr Weasley, who had recently been promoted and now headed the newly formed Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects was very interested in this. If only there was a way for him to be immediately notified if such a shop popped up, he said.

“You could always try to create a two-way mirror,” Remus suggested. “James and Sirius crafted their own, so maybe you could look into that?”

Fred and George exchanged a look, clearly they saw profit in the idea. If they could find a way to make sure that only the two owners of the mirrors could use them, it would probably be the most effective and safe way to communicate for those unable to send Patronus messages. Especially as a Patronus was not something you could use in undercover Order missions.

“Remus, do you know where the mirrors are?” Fred asked. “So we can study them?” George added.

“I think Sirius gave his one to Harry last Christmas?” Remus passed the question on to Harry.

Harry hesitated a bit. “I don’t know where Padfoot’s mirror is and the one he gave me broke, but the shards are somewhere in my trunk I think.” He promised the twins that they could take the shards. Honestly, Harry wasn’t that sorry to be rid of them. Carrying them around would only remind him of how stupid he had been.

After that conversation quietened down. Harry was mainly thinking about how he was going to spend the next week at the Dursleys. He grimly assumed that Uncle Vernon would make him do as many chores as possible, to really maximize his use as a human House Elf. He didn’t even mind the prospect that much. He thought spending entire days doing chores would maybe tire him out enough to fall asleep easily. He didn’t fancy lying awake for hours on end thinking about everything. He had already discussed with Mr Weasley that they would send their copy of the Daily Prophet to Harry when they were done with it, that way Harry could keep up with the Magical World during the week. Being up-to-date seemed important nowadays. Remembering the last time he had been at the Dursleys, he did wonder what being away from Ron and thus sleeping alone in a room would mean for his nightmares.

Remus and Ginny seemed to notice his contemplation, as Remus put his hand on his shoulder and Ginny smiled reassuringly at him. Harry thought there also was a hint of curiosity in her eyes like she wanted to ask him something but didn’t think it was the right time.

--In Her Memory--

The next day, just after dinner, Professor Dumbledore appeared at the Burrow to take Harry to the Dursleys. As he knocked on the Burrow’s door, Mr Weasley pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door, while Mrs Weasleys clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Honestly Arthur, if they had gotten to Albus we would’ve had bigger problems right now.”

They could hear a faint chuckle from outside. “It’s quite alright Molly. In fact, I commend Arthur for his vigilance,” said the Headmaster from outside.

Mr Weasley raise his voice as he asked professor Dumbledore a security question: “What is Albus Dumbledore’s favourite pastime?”

Harry assumed this must be a trick question because he knew from the Chocolate Frog Cards that the headmaster enjoyed ten-pin bowling. He turned out to be right, as the Professor surprised all of the young people in the room by answering that he liked to swim. Harry wasn’t the only one who had never known that.

Mr Weasley opened the door. Apparently, the Headmaster didn’t have to ask a security question. Harry assumed that being the skilled legilimens that he was, he could probably see that Mr Weasley was the real Mr Weasley.

“Good evening, Albus, would you like a cup of tea?” Mrs Weasley offered.

“No, thank you, Molly. If Harry is packed, we’ll just head out immediately. These are busy times after all.”

Harry was indeed packed, if you could call it that. Considering he’d be back in a week, he didn’t see the point in taking his whole trunk with him. Moreover, Uncle Vernon would probably just lock it in the cupboard under the stairs anyway. He had just stuffed some old clothes into his bag along with some toiletries and had told Hedwig that he wouldn’t bring her cage. She would probably fly back and forth daily anyway so he didn’t think it was necessary to do so.

“I’m ready,” he told the Headmaster.

Saying goodbye to the Weasleys they made their way outside.

Harry wondered why it was the Headmaster himself that was taking him back to the Dursleys. Surely, Mr Weasley could do so too? Remembering his outburst against Remus, he had vowed to be a bit more proactive in asking questions to those who supposedly ‘knew better’. However, the last time Harry and Dumbledore had been in close proximity with each other, Harry had destroyed a large number of the Headmaster's possessions. Feeling a bit awkward, Harry decided to be as polite as possible.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, my boy. Ask away,” Professor Dumbledore answered genially.

“Why are you taking me to Little Whinging? Not Mr Weasley for example,” Harry asked, emphasizing the ‘you’.

“For three reasons, Harry. First, as I do every summer, I need to check the wards. Secondly, I will also return next Sunday, and thought it a good idea to inform your Aunt and Uncle of that personally. I assume they might want to prepare for someone so … er… yes, ‘wizardly’ shall we say?” The headmaster chuckled lightly. He turned to Harry and continued: “Thirdly, I wanted to check how you were doing. The last time we saw each other, the meeting was rather explosive as I remember.”

Even though the headmaster’s voice was free from any accusation and was only tinted with sadness, Harry felt himself squirm. He was not sorry for his actions per se, but he did think he could’ve gone about it less destructively.

“I’m fine, sir,” he said.

“Of course you’re not,” the Headmaster disagreed. “How could you be? Even an old, experienced man like myself, is not “fine.” Ms Granger and Sirius’ losses will be felt for years to come by those lucky enough to have known them. To lose someone so young…,” he trailed off. Harry thought he saw something akin to a haunting look in his eyes for a split second before the headmaster shook it off and continued: “I hope that having Remus around has helped?” he inquired.

Harry confirmed it. “We’ve been talking about things. He also told me about the inheritance issues?”

“Ah yes, an issue we will deal with next week. I assume that Remus has also told you about Potter Manor?” At Harry’s “yes,” he continued. “Yes, as I said previously, I will come to get you from the Dursleys next Sunday. I’ll come by just after breakfast. I dare say our schedule that day will be busy.”

Before Harry could ask why, the Headmaster held out his arm, which Harry took, and they apparated to the Dursleys

Chapter Text

Harry had seriously underestimated the amount of time he had to think this last week. He had assumed that the amount of chores Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would, and did, give him would prevent him to think much. However, all the years of doing the same chores over and over again had given him the ability to do them on auto-pilot. Consequently, he had been thinking about a lot of things the past week, including on reflecting who he himself was.

He had read the Daily Prophet the last couple of weeks. He was increasingly referred to as “The Chosen One,” as rumours of a prophecy had been making the gossip rounds. Harry supposed it was only natural that the battle at the Department of Mysteries had resulted in him getting yet another stupid title. But it had made him think.

His instinct was to think “I’m just Harry.” But the amount of time to think he had, led him to think a follow-up question: “who is Harry?” Remus’ advice to not let Voldemort control his future probably had something to do with that. Sure, Harry knew he liked treacle tart and quidditch. However, he had never really thought in depth about the bigger, more important issues. Yes, of course, ever since he found out about the Pureblood ideology, he’d thought it was stupid. However, on the other hand, he had sidestepped the S.P.E.W. even though he had conspired to free Dobby. Had he done that because he wanted to help an abused House Elf or was it just to spite the Malfoys?

As he had been gardening, he had thought about it all. He had privately agreed with Hermione that the House Elf situation was eerily similar to slavery, but hadn’t gone public with it. Partly because he hadn’t wanted to upset anyone by proclaiming that out loud but also because he didn’t want to think about how similar his situation at the Dursleys’ was. The more he thought about it all, the more he realized how backward Magical Britain actually was. And most of the fault obviously lay with the Ministry.

Harry very clearly remembered the way previous Minister Fudge had accused Madam Maxime of attacking Crouch, with the only reason being that she was supposedly (but probably) a half-giant. It was the same knee-jerk reaction that had made most of the Hogwarts students believe that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin after they had found he could speak Parseltongue. Not to mention the way Remus couldn’t hold a job, wouldn’t even have been able to attend Hogwarts if not for Dumbledore, because of laws made by people like Umbridge.

That was another reason why Harry had misgivings with the Ministry. Umbridge had not just been a Ministry employee. She had been Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, a position of major power that Harry assumed required a thorough vetting process. This thought led to two options: either they weren’t vetting as thoroughly as Harry assumed they should, which would be a problem, or they did do it and didn’t see anything wrong, which was an even bigger issue.

Of course, Harry recognized that his interactions with and knowledge of the Ministry were limited. Even so, they were all negative. The first time he had met Fudge, he had thought the ex-Minister to be a good man: worried for Harry’s safety and waving away Harry’s violation of The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. In retrospect, he realized that the Minister had been afraid of what would happen to himself, to his position if something had happened to Harry.

That whole situation could of course have been prevented, if the Ministry hadn’t fucked up the way it did when they allowed Crouch to send Sirius to Azkaban without a trial. Something like that happening in Muggle Britain would be unheard of. The same was kind of true for Crouch Jr, even if Harry felt less aggrieved by that case. Allowing a Dementor to kiss the Death Eater was completely stupid. Even without Voldemort, who in their right mind would pass on the opportunity to question how a prisoner had escaped a supposedly inescapable prison? Especially, considering the fact that Sirius was still “on the run.”

Now, lying on his bed on Saturday evening, Harry grimly thought it was lucky that he could do his chores on auto-pilot and had been thinking about the Ministry’s shortcomings. This way, he had been at least a bit prepared when, two days ago, he and Dursleys were unhappily surprised by the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour

That day, Harry had been cleaning the bathrooms when he heard the doorbell ring. Just a couple of seconds later, he heard the unmistakable bellow of Uncle Vernon. “BOY! COME DOWN HERE!” Considering the Dursleys’ apparent strategy to talk to him as little as possible, Harry was curious who had arrived that had forced them to break with it.

His clothes dirty and himself smelling of sweat and cleaning solutions, he made his way downstairs to a very angry Uncle Vernon. Even though the way sweat streamed down his red face could also be due to the heat, Harry knew the source of Uncle Vernon’s anger was the man in the suit next to him. Barely standing inside the hall, his mane of hair and stern expression made Harry think of a lion. If not for the fact that Harry had seen this man on the front page of the Daily Prophet, he would not have recognized him as a wizard, let alone as the new Minister of Magic.

Having dealt with Ministers of Magic before, not to mention the fact that the Minister had come to the Dursley’s house, obviously ‘coincidentally’ the one week Harry would be there (he snorted sarcastically at this thought), made Harry wary almost immediately. The fact that Petunia had gone for a shopping spree with Dudley, also meant that he was alone with Vernon. He supposed he ought to give Scrimgeour the benefit of the doubt, but all the reasons why he had issues with the Ministry raced through his head, and he added the suspicion that Scrimgeour had tried to meet him when he was completely alone.

Scrimgeour offered his hand. “Hello, Mr Potter. A pleasure to meet you, I am Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic.”

Harry shook his hand. Vernon’s eyes, narrowed in suspicion, flicked between the two of them. He obviously thought Scrimgeour was mad for thinking meeting Harry was a pleasure.

“So boy, they’ve finally come to take you away? Finally getting the punishment you deserve for blowing up Marge and attacking our Dudley?” he said without even trying to conceal his glee at hopefully seeing his freakish nephew in trouble.

“I’m sorry, Mr Dursley. That’s not why I’m here,” Scrimgeour said with a frown, “I’m merely here to talk to Harry in private. Harry, why don’t we go to the sitting room.” The authoritative undertone in Scrimgeour's voice made it quite clear that this was a man that was used to having his orders followed.

Harry didn’t see a way to politely decline and he was also kind of curious about the reason why the Minister had come. He also knew he couldn’t count on his Uncle to come to his help. Before he could lead the way to the sitting room, however, Uncle Vernon spoke up again. Well, it was more a splutter.

“And why do you think I would allow you to use my sitting room? You can’t just barge in here and demand to use my house! The boy has chores to finish!!” he said angrily.

Scrimgeour didn’t look impressed. He disregarded Vernon and gave Harry a look that said: “Lead the way.”

After 14 years of living with the Dursleys, Harry knew better than to ignore his Uncle at this point. He also thought this a perfect opportunity to annoy both his Uncle and to see what kind of man Scrimgeour was. So he merely said: “I’m sorry, sir. It seems my Uncle doesn’t want us to use the sitting room, sir.”

Scrimgeour looked stunned for a split second but regained his composure almost immediately. “Of course, where are my manners? I must apologize. Would it be possible for me to speak to Harry somewhere privately? Perhaps the sitting room?” he asked the thick-necked man.

Vernon seemed torn between wanting to kick the man out of his house and satisfying his curiosity as to what his freakish nephew had been up to. Harry saw the cogs turning in his head. He already knew what Vernon would choose, the Dursleys may hate everything to do with magic but they were also secretly morbidly curious about the things they hated. Their favourite pastime had always been watching the news and the neighbours, so they could complain to each other. He clearly hoped allowing this conversation to take place would give him more ammunition to torment Harry with.

“All right, but I’m coming with you! I’ll have no funny business in this house!”

Scrimgeour completely misread that last statement. “Of course, I understand you want to make sure your nephew is okay, lead the way then.”

Vernon’s face turned even redder at that statement like he thought the idea that he cared for Harry to be an insult of some sort.

The three of them walked into the sitting room and took place. Harry noted amusedly that his Uncle had conveniently forgotten to offer the Minister anything.

“You know, Harry, I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time.” Scrimgeour started.

Harry remained silent.

“Yes, even before I became Minister of Magic when I was Head of the Auror Office. Word had reached us that the famous Harry Potter was thinking about becoming an Auror. We were very interested to hear that.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not sure where the minister was going with this.

“Did you know your father James also wanted to be an Auror? He applied and went through the first rounds of training, but he dropped out before finishing. I’ve always wondered why, he was very promising.”

Harry’s ears perked up at this, he hadn’t known of course. He assumed that his father had dropped out in order to have more free time to work for the Order. Uncle Vernon assumed otherwise.

“He dropped out, did he? No good, lazy…,” he trailed off.

Both Scrimgeour and Harry ignored him, Harry trying hard to remain his composure.

“I didn’t know that, sir,” he responded. An alarm bell went off in Harry’s head.  “How did you know that I want to be an Auror?” he asked.

“Dolores Umbridge told me so. As a former Head, I have great connections in the DMLE so I could help you with that ambition. For example, I could set you up with Gawain Robards, the new Head of the Auror Office, or put in a good word.”

Harry felt his stomach turn in anger. So Umbridge was still working with the Ministry, was she? Deciding to add that to his growing list of misgivings with the Ministry and ignoring his uncle’s mutterings about “corrupt public officials”, partly because he didn’t want to agree with him, he instead asked: “And what would you have me do in return?”

“Oh, you know. I take it you’re aware of the countless rumours going on? We both know how exaggerated these stories can be, whispers about a prophecy, you being “the Chosen One.” I expect Dumbledore has talked to you about these rumours.”

“I haven’t spoken with Dumbledore since these rumours started circulating, sir.” This wasn’t even a lie. He had indeed not spoken to Dumbledore about the prophecy since the rumours started circulating, but Scrimgeour seemed to suspect he knew more than he was willing to say.

“You didn’t talk about these rumours when he brought you here last Sunday?” Scrimgeour inquired slyly.

“How do you know I arrived here on Sunday?” Harry demanded. Was the ministry watching the house? The Minister confirmed this suspicion immediately.

“When I became Minister, one of my first decisions was, of course, to set up a security detail to protect you and your family.”

‘And to keep tabs on me’, Harry thought derisively. “Ah. No, we didn’t talk about it,” he said out loud.

Scrimgeour kept quite a moment and seemed to study Harry. Harry thought he was deciding whether to switch tactics.

“Well, it of course doesn’t matter whether these rumours are true or not,” he said, keeping a close eye on Harry, who tried not to twitch or shift as he thought about the prophecy.

Keeping his face carefully blank, he responded: “Why is that, sir?”

“I mean, of course, it’s very important to you whether the rumours are true or not. But for the wizarding world as a whole… well appearances matter don’t they? It’s about what people believe.”

Harry was beginning to understand what Scrimgeour really wanted, but he wanted the man to just come out and ask what he wanted to ask of Harry.

As Harry remained silent, the Minister continued: “People believe, people want to believe, that you are the Chosen One. They already think you’re a hero – a reputation well deserved if you ask me - “ Harry grimaced at what he thought Scrimgeour had meant as a compliment “- You’re a symbol of hope, a beacon of light in the darkness. People sleep easier at night if they believe that there is someone out there that will take care of He Who Must Not Be Named. Some people might say it is your duty to be that beacon of light, to stand together with the Ministry of Magic against You Know Who.”

Scrimgeour remained silent after that, waiting for Harry to respond. Uncle Vernon looked completely flabbergasted at the idea of Harry as a “beacon of hope.”

Harry collected his thought and took a deep breath. He wanted to remain calm. He thought he understood what Scrimgeour really wanted. If the last two years had thought Harry anything, it was how the media worked and how the Ministry uses the Daily Prophet to spin stories the way they want. Obviously, Scrimgeour wanted to portray the message publicly that Harry, and probably in extension, Dumbledore was working with the Ministry.

“You want me to stand together with the Ministry against Voldemort,” Harry said, intentionally using the name Voldemort to watch for Scrimgeour’s reaction. He didn’t flinch, which Harry begrudgingly gave the man respect for. “Wouldn’t you say that everyone fighting against Voldemort is on the same side anyway? What more would you have me do?”

“Of course, of course,” Scrimgeour was quick to agree, “we’re all on the same side here. However, as I said, it would be good for the morale, if you were, for example, seen popping in at the Ministry from time to time. It would assure the people that we are on top of things and we are working together to bring down He Who Must Not Be Named.”

“In other words, you would like the people to believe that I’m working with the Ministry. Tell me, Minister,-” Harry said, struggling to keep his composure. Honestly, the nerve! “- wouldn’t that also give the impression that I agree with and subscribe to what the Ministry is doing?”

“Well yes, that would be an effect of …”

Harry cut him off. “Then I’m afraid I must decline.”

Scrimgeour looked both shocked and sour at this interruption and a declination at that.

“I see. Might I ask why?”

“Certainly.” Harry said with a smirk, “You really couldn’t have come at a worse time. I have just spent the last four days thinking about all the misgivings I have with your Ministry. Would you like a list? Or perhaps, as I assume you’re a busy man, I could summarize it for you.” He held out his balled fist, the scarred words “I must not tell lies” white against his now tanned skin.

Scrimgeour remained silent as he stared at the scars.

Harry continued. “Did you honestly think I would ever help an organization that employs people like Umbridge? You see, I’ve been thinking about it all and I really cannot see how Umbridge got to be ‘Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic’” – Harry said in a mocking rendition of Umbridge’s voice – “that doesn’t involve bribery or a Ministry that is politically very far removed from what I agree with.”

They remained silent for a while. Uncle Vernon looked like he wanted to say something, but he seemed to have no idea what to say or do. Harry didn’t think the man had ever been farther out his comfort zone. Scrimgeour and Harry’s eyes never left each other.

“I see. It was foolish of me to think that you would understand the position we’re in. I had hoped you were grown up enough to understand you cannot blame the Ministry for the actions of a handful of people.”

Now Harry got angry. “Really?” he said sardonically. “Now I’m too young to understand?”

Scrimgeour sighed deeply. “My apologies, I should not have questioned you in that way. I understand I cannot win this argument at this time. I hope that in the future, the Wizarding World can count on you.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be around.” Harry finished with a smirk. They stood up, and after Scrimgeour had left the house, Harry took a deep breath, turned to Uncle Vernon who was gaping at him, obviously having no idea what had just happened, and said: “If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the bathroom.”

Still lying on his bed, Harry smirked. He was secretly a bit proud of himself for how he had handled that situation. He had spent the next few days reaffirming his beliefs, which was easy to do, having been provided with a shining example of the status quo.

Another topic he had been thinking about a lot was Dumbledore. The Headmaster had blamed himself for what had happened at the end of last year and Harry hoped that the professor would be more forthcoming with information next year. His trust in the man had taken a hit last year, and he hoped that it would be restored in due time. However, he had also vowed to himself to not just blindly follow anymore. If he had known that Voldemort wanted to lure him to the Ministry, he might have been a little less panicked after seeing the vision of Sirius being tortured. But then again, as Ron had said, they had exhausted every method of verification they had been able to think of.

Harry desperately wanted to prevent another situation like that. He had decided to try to be a bit more proactive and respectfully inform the Headmaster if he disagreed with something, and also to make it clear that Harry’s life was his own to lead. Well, kind of his own to lead, at least.

The fight between the Headmaster and Voldemort had also been playing on repeat in his head. Looking back, without the haze of emotions, he was awed at the number of powerful spells being thrown around. If he was prophesied to defeat Voldemort, he still had a lot to learn. He was not even close to being as powerful or as skilled as both men. And honestly, who better to ask to learn from than the man who could go toe-to-toe with Voldemort and had defeated Grindelwald?

Considering that only two out of Harry’s five Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had been competent, he really hoped that this year they would have a good one. He wasn’t opposed to continuing the DA, but he hoped it wasn’t necessary. However, when he had been cleaning the kitchen yesterday, he realized it might be a good idea to continue it anyway. A war was coming and people really should learn how to defend themselves. Especially, if Malfoy and his cronies would insist that they would fight a miniature version of the war within Hogwarts itself. At the same time, he didn’t want anyone thinking they were a match for the Death Eaters. It had become quite clear that they weren’t. He wanted to help people defend, but not for them to become soldiers.

Glancing over at his alarm clock he was shocked to see it was two already. His alarm was set for eight, as he needed to get up in time to cook breakfast for the Dursleys and eat before he would leave with Dumbledore.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep while running through the different ideas and plans he had thought up the past week.

--In Her Memory--

Eight hours later, Harry was in the sitting room waiting for the Headmaster. He was very curious about what the professor had planned for that day. He had said they were going to have a busy day that day.

He glanced over at the other couch on which the Dursleys sat. They were obviously incredibly nervous, having to deal with yet another wizard. After Scrimgeour had left, Uncle Vernon had angrily complained about everything to do with magic, while Petunia agreed with him wholeheartedly. Of course, Scrimgeour was doubly awful, being a politician and all. However,  adsfDumbledore was a completely different situation altogether.

Harry remembered the Howler he had sent Aunt Petunia last year. There was some kind of history between the two but he had no idea what. It was not something that Petunia remembered fondly, judging by the fact she was quite clearly already half-panicking.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the doorbell rang. Harry and his uncle stood up at the same time. Vernon narrowed his eyes but said nothing as he made his way to the front door. Harry followed.

Uncle Vernon opened the door and stiffened. Harry realized that the conversation Dumbledore had had with Vernon last week had done nothing to prepare him for someone so clearly magical.

The Headmaster's moustache twitched. “It would be unwise of us to keep standing in this door opening, these are dangerous times after all. Let us pretend, for the sake of hospitality, that you have graciously invited me in.”

Without waiting on a response, he swept past Uncle Vernon. “Good morning, Harry. It’s good to see you again, how have you been?” he asked Harry when he spotted him in the hall.

“Good morning, professor. I’m fine, how are you?” Harry couldn’t help but smile at the surreal situation he was in. He would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t been looking forward to seeing the Headmaster and the Dursleys interact.

“Splendid!” he answered as they made their way into the sitting room. Harry couldn’t help but think back to the last time he and another wizard had made their way to the sitting room.

On the couch, Dudley was seemingly trying to melt into the cushions. He looked scared. Aunt Petunia’s face was blank, but her lip trembled a bit.

As the Headmaster sat down and Vernon came into the sitting room with barely concealed anger, Harry asked: “Aren’t we going, sir?”

“Yes, we will leave shortly. However, there is an issue we need to discuss first.” He turned his head towards the Dursleys. He pulled up his sleeves a bit and that’s when Harry saw it. The Headmaster’s right hand was blackened and shrivelled, like the flesh had been burned off.

“Professor – what happened to your -- ?” Harry started, but Dumbledore waved him off. “A tale for another time, Harry, please take a seat.”

Harry sat down.

“Now,” the Headmaster began, “as you undoubtedly know, Harry will become of age next year –”

“No, he doesn’t,” Aunt Petunia burst out, apparently involuntary as she clapped her hand on her mouth.

“I beg your pardon?” Dumbledore said politely.

“He won’t turn eighteen until the year after,” she managed to say.

“Ah yes, of course, but you see, in the Magical World, we come of age at seventeen,” the Headmaster informed them.

“Ridiculous,” Uncle Vernon muttered, but Dumbledore simply continued.

“As you know, the Magical World is in a state of war. Harry continues to be in danger, now even more so than he was when I left him on your doorstep fifteen years ago. With him, I left a letter in which I explained what had happened and in which I proclaimed my hope that you would care for him as if he were your own.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He also saw Petunia twitch nervously. She was probably thinking the same thing as Harry. He and Dudley couldn’t have been treated more differently.

Although the Headmaster had not moved, Harry could feel the temperature in the room drop, as if a Dementor had just appeared.

In a steel voice, Dumbledore continued. “You did not do as I asked of you. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and cruelty at your hands. And I’m afraid that I’m not even aware of the full extent of it. You have used him for your own personal gain, with no regard for his wellbeing. The best that can be said of your treatment of Harry is that he has escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon your son.”

He remained silent for a beat, while Petunia started to inspect Dudley for signs of this supposed damage. Harry really wanted to ask the Headmaster what he had meant by that, but he was afraid he would start asking questions in return. He really didn’t want to think about how his life with the Dursleys was before he knew he was a wizard.

“Nevertheless, and it pains me to say this, but I must insist that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house next summer. The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry is protected from forces outside this house…” he was silent for a moment. The ‘but not from forces within this house’ was loud and clear anyway.

“When Harry turns seventeen, this protection will dissolve. After that, he will be free to never return here if he so chooses. And I imagine he won’t,” the headmaster finished.

The Dursleys were silent. Uncle Vernon looked like he wanted to defend himself but the Headmaster’s cold anger was almost tangible in the air, and even if Uncle Vernon was smart enough to realize that he really couldn’t do anything to Dumbledore.

“With that said, Harry, if you've packed?” he asked.

At Harry’s nod, they both stood up and made their way into the hall. Dumbledore stopped him before they stopped out, however. “Did you bring that marvellous cloak of yours by chance?”

“Yes sir, I have it in my bag.”

“Good. Now, Harry, let us step out and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.” They took two steps outside when the Headmaster held out his arm and Harry side-along apparated for the second time in his life.

-- In Her Memory --

They reappeared in a woodland area. Harry saw a small creek in the distance, trees and lots of bushes of holly surrounding a large, unnatural-looking clearing. Harry frowned. Looking a bit closer at the clearing, he thought he saw something glimmer.

He looked up at the Headmaster. “Where are we, sir?”

Dumbledore smiled. “We are at Potter Manor, my dear boy.”

Excitement and nervousness flooded Harry. He had been looking forward to going here the entire week, but he had not expected to be brought here immediately.

“er… Where is it? Is it under a Fidelius Charm?” he asked.

The Headmaster chuckled. “No, it is not under a Fidelius Charm, not yet at least.” He took out his wand and waved it through the air. “Ah yes, the Manor is warded with a specialized notice-me-not charm. I could dismantle the ward of course but…” he trailed off with a look at Harry. “Let’s try something else instead. Can you see anything, Harry?”

Harry took some more steps forward and glanced at the glimmers he had seen before. “Yes, I can see some sort of light? Or a glimmer of some sort?”

“Very good, Harry. I think that you will find that these kinds of charms are easily penetrated by a trained eye, given that they know there is something to look for. Try to focus on the glimmers and let them paint a picture for you.”

Harry stared at the clearance. There! A glimmer to the left. Then a glimmer on the top right and a glimmer in the centre, in the grass. As he kept seeing glimmers, he mentally sketched an outline of the building, like a game of connect-the-dots.

As he connected the last two dots, the outline became visible in front of him. Slowly, the dark-brown colour of stone that clearly had not been maintained or cleaned in a while came in, and he got his first look at Potter Manor.

It was large of course, but not stupidly so. Calling it a ‘Manor’ seemed a bit presumptuous. He thought it was probably about three times the size of the Burrow. The centre looked like it used to be some sort of tower, with a grand entrance. To the left of the tower, he could see a wing that probably held some sort of ballroom, judging from the tall windows on the first floor. The right-wing also had two floors, but the roof was lower. The centre tower stood tall and had three floors.

“From your expression, I concur that you’ve been able to see past the charmed ward. Very good Harry! I would give you House Point but alas, school is not in session yet,” the Headmaster joked.

“Yes, I can see it!” Harry said enthusiastically.

“Great!” Dumbledore smiled, “before we head in, allow me to check whether it is safe to do so.” He once again took out his wand and waved it around, murmuring too quick for Harry to follow it.

He waited patiently until the Headmaster was done before he asked: “May I ask what you checked for?”

“Of course, Harry. I checked for any signs of Dark Magic and the presence of magical beings. Both came back negative, which does not mean there won’t be surprises anyway. Apart from some small animals, it is deserted. However, as I expected, most of the protective charms and wards have failed due to a lack of maintenance. I think we can head in, but please keep behind me and remain cautious.”

Harry nodded his agreement. Together they walked towards the manor. As Harry got closer, he started to feel something. The feeling was hard to describe, it felt something like a pull but not on his body. Maybe on his magic?

“Is there something wrong, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, having noticed Harry had slowed down.

“I’m not sure, sir, I feel some kind of pulling sensation but I can’t figure it out.”

“Indeed?” the Headmaster said thoughtfully. He waved his wand around, murmuring some more incantation. “Ah yes, nothing to worry about, my boy.”

As he started to continue his walk towards the Manor, Harry remembered his vow to ask more questions.

“Sir, could you maybe explain what I don’t have to worry about?” he questioned.

The Headmaster turned around once more and his eyes twinkled. “Of course, my apologies. Have you by chance ever heard of Longitudinal Magical Exposure theory?”

As Harry shook his head, Dumbledore continued:” That’s okay, you don’t take Arithmancy after all. In short, Longitudinal Magical Exposure theory states that the longer magic is active in a place, the more magic will seep into the place itself, granted that place is conducive to magic. This is why Hogwarts Castle is by some, including myself, considered almost a Magical Being. Have you ever wondered why and how the staircases move? Or why sometimes certain shortcuts seem to end in different corridors? The simple answer would be “magic” of course,” the headmaster chuckled, “but there is a lot more to that answer than one might think.”

Harry looked intrigued. “And that’s also the case for Potter Manor?”

“Yes and no,” Dumbledore said, “Yes, Potter Manor has been exposed to active magic for centuries. And it has always been surrounded by bushes of holly, which as you know, is a magical conductive material. Where Hogwarts is exposed to a new set of students every 7 years, a new mix of active magic if you will. Potter Manor, however, has been owned by Potters for centuries, so it has mostly known active Potter magic. It may very well be the case that some of what makes one a “Potter” has seeped into the very walls of Potter Manor.”

Dumbledore smiled at Harry. “Yes, I would say the fact that the magic is still here and calling out to you after the Manor has been abandoned for almost seventeen years, speaks of the stubbornness and tenacity that can be found in both you, your father, and your grandfather, Harry.”

Once again Harry was reminded of how little he actually knew about magic. “So, the pull I felt was the house calling out to me?” Harry thought calling it a house was more apt.

“Yes, and considering it is not calling out to me, it somehow knows whether one is a Potter or not. I suspect the involvement of Blood Magic.”

“Blood Magic?” Harry swallowed, “Isn’t that Dark Magic, sir?”

“Would you consider the protection at the Dursley’s house Dark Magic, Harry?” the Headmaster countered.

Harry had to think about that. The reason he was safe there was because he was a blood relative of Petunia. That must mean that it wasn’t Dark Magic right?

“No, because it serves a protective purpose rather than an offensive one,” he concluded.

Dumbledore disagreed. “An interesting way to look at it, but not one I necessarily agree with. The way you propose to distinguish is very helpful in almost all cases, but Dark Magic can be used to protect also.” He held out his injured hand as an apparent example.

“You were injured by protective Dark Magic?” Harry asked.

“Yes, alas, it seems that in my old age my reflexes are not what they once were,” the Headmaster said grimly. “Now, Harry. If I could be so free to give you homework, and I daresay I do feel free to do so, I would ask you to think about what distinguishes the Dark Arts from, by lack of better terms, Light or Grey magic.”

Harry agreed readily, he was intrigued by the question.

“This is what I propose we do, Harry,” Dumbledore said, startling Harry with the idea that he had a say, “We head into the Manor and try to find the ward stones. If you accept, I will place every protective enchantment and ward I can think of on the Manor. After that has been done and I can say for sure that we’re safe, we have some things to discuss.”

Harry agreed again, and together they entered Potter Manor.

Chapter Text

An hour later, Harry was sitting across from Dumbledore in what used to be the sitting room on the first floor. They had just finished scooping out the interior and were now taking a break in the armchairs Dumbledore had conjured up. The inside of the Manor was magically enhanced, so even though from the outside it looked like the left wing only had a single floor on top of the ground floor, it actually had three.

All three floors were divided into three sections: a left and a right wing that had been built onto the centre tower, which functioned as the centre section. On the ground floor, the left wing held the kitchen, a laundry room, and according to Dumbledore it also used to house the House Elves. The right wing held the Potter-Potion lab, further establishing how intertwined potion-making was with the Potter family history.

The second floor could be reached by the stairwell in the entrance hall, which was the centre room of the ground floor. On the first floor, this room held the Floo Access, a bathroom, and three stairways to the three rooms on the second floor. To the left of this hall, in what used to be the ballroom, the space had been divided into a sitting room and a dining room. Most of the bedrooms, with private bathrooms, were in the right wing of the second floor.m

The master bedroom was on the second floor, also with its own bathroom. On its left side were a library and a study. The right wing functioned part of the second floor was used as storage. By continuing on the stairs past the master bedroom, the roof terrace was reached.

Harry could not stop himself from comparing the manor to Grimmauld Place and the Burrow. All three buildings were thoroughly steeped in magic. Both the Burrow and Grimmauld Place were much larger on the inside due to the significant use of Extension Charms. On the contrary, it looked like some of the rooms in Potter Manor had actually been shrunken rather than Extended. On the inside, it did not feel like a Manor at all, but rather just a large house. Harry supposed that his grandparents had shrunken some rooms down to get rid of the empty space they probably had with only his father as a child.  

As far as the upkeep of the house, structurally it seemed perfectly fine but having been uninhabited for over 15 years had left its marks. However, compared to how filthy Grimmauld Place was, Potter House was practically clinical. According to Dumbledore, most of the filth in Grimmauld Place could be blamed on the long exposure it had had to Dark Magic. Potter House did still show signs of long-term neglect of course, but it would not take that long to clean.

During the tour, Dumbledore had, with Harry’s agreement, immediately began casting, and explaining, the necessary protective charms. The Notice-Me-Not charm was strengthened. Next, he cast the hex-deflection charm, Salvio Hexia, which would prevent the casting of hexes in the area and also prevent people currently suffering from hexes from entering the area. A Protection Charm was placed on the house as a whole, to strengthen it from outside attacks. Dumbledore also showed Harry a variation on the Silencing Charm he had learned last year, the Noise-Cancelling charm, Sonitus Inrita, which prevented sound from leaving the house. The House was also made un-plottable, preventing the location from showing up on maps.

After some discussion, a Muggle-Repelling Charm was also done. Harry, following Dumbledore, agreed that he wasn’t a fan of the Charm. In normal circumstances, he would rather not have the charm, but Potter House needed to be as secure as possible. He figured he could remove the charm later on.

Another point of discussion was a Fidelius Charm. Harry had a vague understanding of the charm, as “hiding a secret inside someone”. But he hadn’t a clue how that actually worked.

“The first thing to realize is that are two types of knowledge when choosing to perform a Fidelius”, the Headmaster explained, “the first type is of a personal nature. If we would try to hide your identity in a Fidelius, you could not be the Secret Keeper. It is impossible to be the secret keeper of something about yourself. The other type is impersonal knowledge, like the location of a house. Such a secret can be kept by someone who lives at that house, as the secret is about the location of the house and not whether that person lives there or not.”

This confused Harry, “Then, why did my parents choose Wormtail as their Secret Keeper rather than themselves?”

Dumbledore smiled sadly. “Because we chose to hide the fact that they were living at the cottage in Godric's Hollow rather than hide the house as a whole.” At Harry’s inquisitive look, he continued, “We could have chosen to do so of course, but can you guess what the problems with hiding the house as a whole are?”

Harry took a moment to think. “Well, Grimmauld Place just kind of slowly pushed its way in between the neighbouring houses when I was made aware of the location.” He messed up his hair with his right hand, thinking hard. “Maybe it has something to do with the neighbours…,” he thought out loud.

Dumbledore made a noise of agreement, “Consider the following situation, Harry. You have lived in the same house for the last decade, as have your neighbours. Then, you wake up one morning and the neighbour that used to live at the next house over is now your next-door neighbour. Now, of course, the Fidilius Charm will make you forget that this is not how it used to be. But compare that to the situation in which the house remains there, but the same neighbour just never finds out that someone is living there.”

Harry could see what he meant, in the first situation there were many breadcrumbs left, so to speak. His parents had chosen to hide their living in the house rather than the house itself. He vaguely remembered what ex-Minister Fudge had said that time in his third year. Something about that Voldemort could stand with his nose against the sitting-room window and still not see the Potters. Harry wondered whether Voldemort had had a nose back then. Another question for Dumbledore, he decided.

“There are no neighbours here though, so we don’t need to worry about that, right?” he asked his Headmaster, who confirmed this. “Indeed. Moreover, you are not yet living here so when cannot hide that knowledge, as it does not exist. So, we will hide the knowledge of the location of Potter Manor inside a secret keeper. I propose that person to be you, Harry.”

“Me?!” Harry exclaimed in surprise. “Why can I be my own secret keeper, while my parents couldn’t?”

“It’s to do with the difference in what we are trying to hide. In your parents' case, the Fidelius hid the fact that they were living in that house, rather than the house itself. They were part of the secret, which prevents them from being the keeper. In your case, however, the location of Potter Manor is the secret. You could tell anyone that you live at Potter Manor, but they wouldn’t be able to find the house. The knowledge would be quite useless.”

“Makes sense,” Harry agreed.

Dumbledore smiled and chuckled. “However, before we decide, I must ask you, Harry. Has your scar hurt at all this summer?”

Unaware he had instinctively raised his hand to touch it, Harry shook his head in wonderment. “No, actually. I haven’t felt anything since… since the battle.”

Dumbledore looked happy at this news. “That’s good news. I think we can assume that Voldemort is now using occlumency against you. The bond you share can, in potential, be detrimental for him, of course. He wouldn’t want you to listen in on his scheming.”

“Well, you won’t hear me complaining,” Harry said, even as he realized that it meant that his nightmares were just that: nightmares. It was a sort of reassuring, to have “normal” nightmares, even if the subject matter was so traumatic.

“No I can imagine,” Dumbledore said while twisting his beard around his finger, “a secondary reason I asked, Harry, is that, while normally knowledge under a Fidelius is protected from Leglimency, we cannot know for certain whether that is also true for the bond you share with Tom. But if he is now protecting his mind from you, that point is moot. So, if you agree, let us go outside to perform the charm.”

--In Her Memory--

Half an hour later, after Dumbledore explained how the charm is cast and why they had to cast the charm outside, Dumbledore finished the charm with a flourish of his wand. Nothing seemed to happen.

“Did it work?” Harry questioned.

Dumbledore chuckled. “As I am the one who cast the Fidelius, the knowledge is still within me. However, if it has worked only you will be able to speak the actual location out loud.” His eyes twinkled and he took the stance of someone about to proclaim something very important. “The location of Potter House is not important.” Harry looked at his headmaster questioningly.

Dumbledore tried again: “Potter Manor is located somewhere on Planet Earth.” He chuckled. “As you have just seen, I can not speak the actual location of Potter Manor out loud, meaning the charm is indeed functioning.”

“You cannot even speak the location to me?” Harry asked bemused.

“No, only the Secret Keeper can ever speak the Secret,” Dumbledore said. “But I suggest you never actually speak the secret or write it down. If you want to bring someone in on the secret, I suggest you apparate toward the clearing behind us, and take them across the wards yourself.”

With the Fidelius in place, they headed back into the sitting room. Dumbledore took out a pocket watch. Harry could see it had revolving planets rather than normal hands. Apparently, Dumbledore understood it perfectly, however, as he clapped his hands together and jovially called out that it was time for lunch.

Before Harry could even wonder where they were going to get lunch from, he heard a pop and a high, squeaky voice saying “Harry Potter, sir!”.

“Hello, Dobby.” Harry greeted the enthusiastic House Elf in return. He smiled a little, he had become kind of fond of Dobby over the years, even if the sight of Dobby wearing a badly knitted woollen hat made his heart contract painfully.

“Professor Dumbledore asked Dobby to bring Harry Potter lunch”, Dobby said with clear happiness at being able to serve Harry.

The Headmasters’ eyes twinkled as he looked at Dobby and Harry. “Thank you, Dobby. Now, before you head back to Hogwarts may I ask you to join us for lunch?”

“Join you? Oh yes, Dobby has never been so honoured!” the Elf answered, with huge eyes and blush. With a snap, he conjured a small chair for himself and looked up at Harry and Dumbledore with wide eyes. With another snap, the picnic basket he had brought floated up from the table and the table was set magically. Plates, cutlery, food, everything was placed gently on the table, after which the basket seemingly banished itself.

“Tuck in!”, Dumbledore said.

After ten minutes of small talk and loading their plates with food, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Now we are in a secure place, I think we can discuss some of the issues that need to be resolved. The first deals with what you have inherited from Sirius. I believe Remus has explained a few things already about the problems with the inheritance?”

At Harry’s nod, he continued. “Sirius left everything to you, including a fair amount of Galleons, his personal effects, and 12 Grimmauld Place. As Remus has explained, there is a question of whether the Black family magic allows this inheritance to take place, as you’re not a family member in the strictest sense of the word”.

“What does that mean, Professor? ‘In the strictest sense of the word’?”, Harry inquired.

“One of the great problems with the Pureblood doctrine is that as time goes on, there is an increasingly small number of families considered “Pureblood”. This is because, if you were to trace British Magical genealogy far enough back, almost every Magical family is related to each other somehow.

In your case, your great-grandfather, Henry Potter, his brother, Charlus Potter, married one Dorea Black, who was Sirius’ Great-Aunt. Whether that is the only link between the Potter and Black families, I can’t be sure. Then we also have the fact Sirius is your legal Godfather. This issue is quite complex, however, luckily there’s a very easy way to test this.”

Harry who had been looking quite confused, sighed in relief.

Dumbledore continued. “You see, if you have indeed inherited 12 Grimmauld Place, you will also have inherited Kreacher. If you have, he will have to obey your commands. You only have to call him here to confirm whether the inheritance has been successful.”

Harry's stomach turned. He didn’t want to inherit Kreacher. He loathed the idea of being responsible for the House Elf that had betrayed Sirius. On top of that, the idea of owning a House Elf didn’t sit right with him in general. But what choice did he have? Kreacher had already betrayed them once, and he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. If he took ownership, at least he could stop it from happening again.

Steeling his resolve, he took a breath and called Kreacher.

The sound of a small explosion echoed through the house, directly followed by the livid screams of the House Elf in question.

“No, no, no, no! Kreacher belongs to the Blacks! Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix! Kreacher doesn’t want to the Potter Brat, no, no …”

Before he could continue his lamentations, and before Harry and Dumbledore could do anything, a blur of ears and woollen hats raced across them and attacked Kreacher.

“Kreacher shall not insult the great Harry Potter!” The two House Elves were brawling. With a bang, they were split apart.

“Quick, Harry give Kreacher the order to stay silent. Dobby, please remain seated.” Dumbledore quickly gave his orders.

“Kreacher, be silent!”, Harry ordered the old House Elf. Kreacher looked murderously at both Dobby and Harry before dropping down on the floor and banging his fists in a silent temper tantrum.

Dobby had sat back down, glaring back at Kreacher. “Kreacher shall not insult Harry Potter in front of Dobby, sirs, or Dobby will teach him not to!”

“Well,” Dumbledore said, smiling at Dobby’s loyalty, “that answers that question.”

“Do I have to keep him with me?” Harry asked. A horrific image of sitting in class with Kreacher next to him, muttering insults under his breath, popped into his head.

“Not if you do not want to. If I may suggest two options? You can send him to work at Hogwarts, where the other House Elves can keep an eye on him. That might also help resocialize him. Otherwise, you might want to order him to clean Potter Manor.”

He thought about it for a moment. The house did need to be cleaned, but he had seen how effective Kreacher had been in 12 Grimmauld Place. He also didn’t trust Kreacher to not somehow lead Bellatrix Lestrange to the house.

His thought process was interrupted by Dobby’s squeaky voice.

“Harry Potter needs to have his house cleaned?” The House Elf did not try to hide how much would like to get that job.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Well yes, that’s another solution. Send Kreacher to Hogwarts, and I’ll send Dobby to clean up Potter Manor. Unless…” he trailed off with twinkling eyes. “Unless you would like Dobby to come work for you full time?”

Harry looked over at Dobby, who had fallen out of his chair because of his uncontrollable excitement at that idea. Even though he was against the idea of owning a House Elf, he wouldn’t own Dobby, would he? Dobby was and wanted to be free Elf, he was sure of it. He knew that Dumbledore paid him 4 Galleons a month and he got a free day each month. And, if he was honest, House Elves were incredibly useful. However, he could imagine Hermione’s outrage at his having two House Elves.

Dobby looked at him hopefully. Kreacher was also looking at him, with a look in his eyes that Harry couldn’t place.

Harry came to a decision: “Yes, I think it would be a good idea to send Kreacher to Hogwarts but I’ll have to think about whether or not I can employ Dobby.” At Dobby’s devasted look, he crouched down to him so he could look him in the eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want your help Dobby. Even if it has been dangerous for me in the past”, he said, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s just that … Do you know about S.P.E.W.?”

Dobby nodded, his ears flapping back and forth. “Harry Potter’s friend came to talk to Dobby a lot about Elf culture and Dobby being a free Elf. Dobby was very sad to learn about what happened,” he squeaked, big tears dribbling from his blue eyes.

Harry swallowed heavily. “Can you understand why I’m hesitant to take another House Elf into my service?”

Dobby nodded gravely, “Dobby understands, sir.”

Dumbledore spoke up, with a teary look in his eyes. “Why don’t you take some time to think about it, Harry? In the meantime, Dobby, I would ask you to clean Potter Manor anyway, is that okay with you? And with you, Harry?”

Dobby looked happy with that compromise, so he nodded enthusiastically. “Can Dobby come to visit Harry Potter if Dobby has questions?”

“Of course, Dobby. Can I just call for you if I want to speak with you?”

Dobby agreed. Harry gave Kreacher the order to go work in the Hogwarts kitchens with the other House Elves, and Dobby immediately started work on the house.

--In Her Memory--

Harry and Dumbledore finished their lunch mostly in silence. Harry wondered what else the headmaster had in store for him. He also had some questions he wanted to ask.

“Sir? The last week I have been thinking a lot about, er… well everything, and I have some questions I’d like to ask you?” Harry asked a bit hesitantly. Even though he told himself to be more proactive, actually doing it was not as easy.

“Ask away, my boy!” Dumbledore beamed.

“er… well firstly, I was wondering what happened to the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry questioned.

“Ah!” Dumbledore said, clearly not expecting that question. “The Chamber has remained closed since the last time you were there. You are, of course, the only person in the school who can open it. However, as you know, Fawkes can enter the Chamber. I travelled alongside him to take a look around and clean up the corpse. Why do you ask?”

“Well”, Harry answered, “It was one of the discussed locations to hold the DA meetings last year, but we decided against it. I guess that would have been very hard on Ginny anyway…” he trailed off. “Anyway, I was just wondering, whatever happened to the skeleton? Maybe we can find more information about Voldemort in the Chamber!”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt to take a second look,” Dumbledore answered thoughtfully.

Harry had not expected the headmaster to agree so readily. “Er … okay great! I have also been thinking about the DA a lot.”

“On whether to continue it, I presume?” Dumbledore replied. At Harry’s confirmation, he continued. “What reasons do you see for disbanding or continuing the DA?”

“First of all, even though I was the teacher, it was Hermione’s idea.” Even though Harry could now casually mention Hermione without chocking up, his stomach still turned with guilt. “I’m also not sure whether it will be necessary? With Umbridge gone, I mean. I guess it depends on the new Defence teacher.”

“If I may so free to allude to another reason, you haven’t mentioned? It is my understanding that Mr Longbottom told you that they, Ms Weasley, Ms Lovegood, and Mr Longbottom that is, were coming with you because that is what they were training for in the DA?”

Harry nodded, not liking where this was probably going to go.

“I hope that that is not one of your reasons to disband the DA, Harry” Dumbledore said, giving Harry a penetrating stare.

Harry squirmed in his chair. Of course, that was the main reason. He didn’t want the DA members to think they were ready for combat, because they weren’t. Letting Ginny, Neville and Luna come had been a huge risk.

Dumbledore let out a sad sigh. “I had hoped you would not blame yourself for Sirus’ or Ms Granger’s death.”

Harry cringed physically at the reminder, which Dumbledore took note of.

“May I remind you of the conversation we had after the events in the Shrieking Shack?” he began. Harry tried to think back but he couldn’t remember what Dumbledore was talking about.

“You said it would be your fault if Voldemort would rise again, because you stopped Remus and Sirius from killing Peter Pettigrew, as you had heard Professor Trelawny predict his comeback that same day. I told you then that the consequences of our actions are so complicated, so diverse and also so dependent on an unmeasurable number of variables, that thinking about what would have happened if is folly. You will only drive yourself insane by doing so.”

Harry understood what the Headmaster was saying, but he still felt like he bore most of the responsibility. Dumbledore realized as he continued: “I would like to just say one other thing about it. I’m not entirely sure about Ms Lovegood, but I am quite certain that Mr Longbottom and Ms Weasley would have wanted to help you regardless of whether or not they were DA members. If that had been the situation, at least you gave them a better chance to defend themselves.”

Harry did not respond. He didn’t want to think about it. After a few moments of silence, Dumbledore said: “I would support your decision either way. However, if you do decide to continue with the DA, may I suggest a name change? While I’m flattered by the amount of trust you place in me, I wouldn’t feel right condoning an organization named after me with which I have nothing to do.”

Considering Ginny had come up with the name specifically to piss off the Ministry, Harry wasn’t keen on changing it but he also realized that it might be a difficult position for the Headmaster, so he said he’d think about it. Dumbledore smiled and asked Harry if he had other questions.

Harry thought about it for a moment and came up with three. He decided to start with the Ministers’ visit.

“Did you know that Scrimgeour visited me at the Dursleys last week?” Harry questioned.

Something flickered in the Headmaster's eyes, and he frowned. “I did not,” he said.

“Oh,” Harry said, momentarily stunned that Dumbledore did not know about the visit. “Well, er, yes he came to try to talk me into becoming some sort of Ministry puppet, said it was my duty to provide hope for the people by giving them the idea that he and I were working closely together.”

“Indeed” Dumbledore mumbled. “Of course, that idea is not Scrimgeour’s own, it was actually Fudge’s plan, as a last-ditch effort to save his position,” he informed Harry. “Considering your chosen expressions, I deduce you declined this offer?”

“Yes. Like I said before, I have been thinking about a lot of stuff over the past week. As I told Scrimgeour, he could not have come at a worse time as I had just finished a mental list of all my grievances with the Ministry.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Let’s hear this list then!”

Harry smirked. “Okay well, some are rather obvious.” He showed Dumbledore the scars on his hand. “Of course, the fact that they send Sirius to Azkaban without a trial. My own trial last year,” Harry was getting into it now. “The way Fudge immediately punished Barty Crouch Jr. with the dementor’s Kiss, even though they could have interrogated him on how he escaped from Azkaban. They were still looking for Sirius, how stupid do you have to be to immediately kill the only person who might be able to tell you how Sirius escaped! The fact that Umbridge has the position she has! Either the screening process is crooked, or they didn’t see any red flags, I’m not sure which is worse. Not to mention the way they treat people like Remus, Hagrid, and Madame Maxime! And then last week, the slimy way Scrimgeour cornered me while I’m coincidentally not at the Burrow!” He had worked himself up to quite a frenzy but deflated as he asked: “Has anything even changed since before the first war?”

“I’m impressed, Harry,” Dumbledore said, and he looked it, too, “I completely agree with all your misgivings, I would even add a few. And to come back to your question. I’m afraid that you’re right, not a lot has changed in the political landscape. The breeding ground for a pure-blood dictator is still there.”

He looked at Harry for a moment. “I did not expect you to take an interest in politics, I must confess.”

Harry smiled. “Me neither, professor. But I told Scrimgeour that I didn’t want it to seem like I agree with the Ministry in every way, which I gave as the reason I declined.”

“In other words, you do not think the Ministry’s policies are acceptable, and you do not want to aid in the normalization of what you deem to be morally wrong tendencies,” Dumbledore said.

Harry scratched his head, “er… I guess?”, he answered sheepishly

Dumbledore chuckled again. “Did you have any other questions?”

“er…” Harry then realized something Scrimgeour had said. “Scrimgeour said the Ministry was watching me, do you think they followed us here?”, he asked, suddenly a bit nervous.

“Do not worry, Harry. I was aware of that fact” Dumbledore, still clearly annoyed by the fact that he didn’t know Scrimgeour has visited me. “They won’t be able to follow my apparition trail.”

“Great,” Harry said in relief. “The last question I had, Remus mentioned you wanted to use Potter House as a Headquarters?”

“That is one of the options yes. We had to leave Grimmauld Place due to the inheritance issues. In the meantime, we have been meeting at Hogwarts however, which is safe enough for now. Remus told me you were displeased at the idea of me just deciding that it would be so?”

Harry’s cheeks reddened. “er… yeah…” he muttered embarrassedly.

Dumbledore sighed, and looked at Harry gravely.

“I will be be honest with you, Harry. I can understand why you would be annoyed at me just deciding to do so, as I have often just decided what we should do, without asking for your opinion. Recent events… recent events have forced me into self-reflection. I did not always like what I found. Not every decision I have made has been great obviously, and as I have told you before, great people make just as many mistakes as any other person, but the consequences are much greater.”

Harry shot a glance at Dumbledore’s blackened hand and wondered what these ‘recent events’ were. Besides the events at the Ministery, of course.

If Dumbledore noticed, he did not say anything. He continued: “If we decide to move headquarters, I will personally ask you whether you’d allow us to use Potter House. Ultimately, we will have to, considering you are the Secret Keeper,” Dumbledore said, his moustache twitching in what Harry thought was a small smirk.

Harry laughed, “that’s right!”

They stayed silent for a moment. Suddenly, Harry let out a snort. At Dumbledor’s questioning look, he explained. “I just realized that this is only the second time we have had a conservation that did not take place in the direct aftermath of something horrible happening. I much prefer it this way.”

“Indeed.” The headmaster smiled fondly at him. “If you are ready, I would like to ask you for help. It seems that once again, Hogwarts is short a professor. I would like to ask your help in recruiting a new one.”

“How can I help with that, professor?”

“Well to be quite blunt, Professor Slughorn really enjoys the company of famous people.”

Harry groaned, understanding what Dumbledore meant. “Okay,” he reluctantly agreed.

--In Her Memory--

Roughly an hour later they were standing in a sitting room in the muggle village of Budleigh Babberton. Harry had just been introduced to Slughorn. His first impression stroked with the image he had conjured up in his head after Dumbledore’s explanation of what Harry’s role was to be. Slughorn was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life, and a lot of it, judging by his resemblance to Uncle Vernon. Even the moustache looked similar, albeit grey.

“So, this is how you were planning to convince me, Dumbledore? Well, the answer remains no!”, Slughorn was saying.

He decisively moved past Harry but he held the expression of someone having to resist something very tempting.

Dumbledore convinced Slughorn to share at least a drink, being old colleagues and friends after all. Slughorn kept glancing over at Harry. After some small talk and Dumbledore trying to scare the man into acceptance, Dumbledore got up to use the facilities, leaving Harry with the prospective professor.

“Don’t think I don’t know why he brought you,” Slughorn said to Harry.

Harry hid a small smile.

“You look like your father”

“So I’ve been told”, Harry said.

“Except for your eyes. You have – “

“- my mother's eyes, yes,” Harry said, a bit annoyed at the fact that people seemed to assume he hadn’t been told that a thousand times already.

“Hmm. Yes, well, as a teacher you aren’t supposed to have favourites, but she was one of mine. Your mother.” Slughorn added, seeing Harry’s questioning look. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest students I have ever taught. Such a lively spirit, you know? Very charming girl. I sometimes told her that she really should have been sorted into my house and she’d give me a cheeky retort,” he said fondly reminiscing.

“What was your house?”

“I was head of Slytherin,” Slughorn said, “Oh tut”, he added seeing Harry’s face, waving his finger admonishingly. “Don’t think badly of me because of that. You’re probably a Gryffindor, like her? Yes, house sortings are often the same throughout generations. Not always of course. Have you heard about Sirius Black? You probably have – many reports about him have been in the papers recently – he died a couple of weeks ago…”

Slughorn kept talking but Harry didn’t pay attention as an invisible hand had been squeezing his heart. That night. He obviously could not yet handle it if it was referenced unexpectedly. Visions of Sirius and Hermione unwillingly swam in front of him.

“… Regulus when he went to Hogwarts, but I would’ve liked the set.” Slughorn continued, unaware of the painful look on Harry’s face.

“Your mother was muggle-born of course. I couldn’t believe it when I found out. I was convinced she was a pureblood, as skilled as she was.” Slughorn said.

Harry’s temper flared up immediately. “What do you mean by that? Are you saying you believe that muggle-borns are somehow less skilled?” he demanded angrily. Slughorn’s face paled, his eyes widening in shock and confusion. “Because let me tell you that that is complete bullshit.”

“Please don’t think I’m prejudiced! No, no, no! Didn’t I just tell you your mother was one of my favourite students? And what about Dirk Cresswell…” Slughorn continued his defence of himself. As if knowing muggle-borns would prove he was not a pureblood supremacist. Slughorn, apparently unable to stop himself, seamlessly moved on to boast about how connected he was.

“And all these people know where to find you?” Harry remarked. If you’re hiding from Death Eaters, that seemed like a glaring security issue.

Slughorn’s smile disappeared from his face. “No, of course not. I haven’t been in contact with anyone for over a year!” He seemed shaken by this realization.

“But well… in these dangerous times, the responsible wizard lays low. Dumbledore can talk all he wants, but if I were to return to Hogwarts. Well, that would be paramount to openly supporting the Order of the Phoenix! I’m sure they are all upstanding and brave people, but the death rate is a bit high if you ask me…”

“You don’t have to be a member of the Order to teach at Hogwarts,” Harry remarked, not caring to hide his snide tone. He didn’t like Slughorn. It was impossible to feel any sympathy for the man if he compared the man’s situation on the run to the way Sirius had to live on the run: living in caves and eating rats, or trapped in the one house he couldn’t stand to stay in. “Most professors are not members and none have died. Well, except for Quirrell of course, but he got what he deserved for aiding Voldemort.”

As he expected, Slughorn shuddered and he gasped a shrill cry at the mention of the name.

“If you ask me, there is no safer place to be than in Hogwarts. They always say that Dumbledore is the one wizard Voldemort of afraid of.”

Slughorn looked at Harry for a moment, thinking about what he had said.

“It’s true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named never directly sought the confrontation with Dumbledore. And you could argue that having been on the run from the Death Eaters already put me in his bad books”, Slughorn muttered to himself. “And I would be lying if I said the death of Amelia Bones two weeks ago hasn’t shocked me. If even the head of the MLE isn’t safe…”

At that point, Dumbledore came back into the room.

After some more small talk, they said goodbye to Slughorn, only to be stopped on their way out by Slughorn giving in, but only if he was paid more.

Dumbledore and Harry walked back into the village. “Tell me, Harry. What did you think of Horace?”

“I don’t like him,” Harry answered immediately, having already decided that. “He rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Indeed. I can imagine that most of what makes Horace is something that you find reprehensible. As I said, he likes to ‘collect’ famous people, and he will undoubtedly try to do the same with you. ‘The Chosen One’ would be the showpiece of his collection.” Harry groaned. “I will be upfront with you. For reasons I cannot yet explain to you, I will ask you to do let him”

“Let him collect me?” Harry groaned again. “Isn’t it bad enough that I’ll have to sit through Defence Against the Dark Arts with him?”, he asked rhetorically.

“Oh, have I not mentioned?” Dumbledore said smiling. “Horace teaches potions, not Defence Against the Dark Art.”

Harry’s snapped up to look at the headmaster. “Really? But who will be teaching Defence?” He felt a dreadful sense of foreboding.

“Professor Snape will take over Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. Now, listen to me Harry,” he added, preventing Harry from loudly protesting this decision. “It was absolutely vital that we convinced Slughorn to come to Hogwarts, which meant we had to find a different place for Professor Snape.” Dumbledore suddenly stopped walking.

“This seems like a good place. If you will hold onto my arm, Harry, I’ll apparate us to the Burrow.”

Having done so, Dumbledore took Harry to the shed. “I still have a couple of things to tell you, before I leave you tonight.” At Harry’s nod, he continued: “First of all, every time you leave The Burrow I want you to bring that marvellous cloak with you. That includes Hogwarts. Understand?”

“Yes”

“Secondly, I take it you haven’t told anyone about the prophecy?”

“No, but Remus mentioned he knows”

“Remus, and most of the Order, have a general and vague idea of the prophecy but do not know the exact contents. Only you and I know these exact words. Not telling anyone is a wise decision, and I especially understand if you’re reluctant to tell Mr Weasley.”

Harry swallowed deeply.

“I’ll just advise you that I think he has proven time and time again to be trustworthy and a true friend. I’d think it would be a disservice to not tell him, but I’ll understand, considering recent events, if you decide to wait a little longer.”

Harry nodded again, not knowing what to say.

“Thirdly, I want you to take private lessons with me this year.”

“Private lessons – from you?” Harry said surprised, after a beat of silence.

“Yes, I think it’s time for me to be more directly involved with your education.”

“What will you teach me?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Oh you know, a bit of this, a bit of that,” Dumbledore said lightly. “During these lessons, I’ll also disclose to you the reason why Horace plays such a vital role.”

“Does that mean my occlumency lessons won’t continue?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Great, because they were –“

“ – an unmitigated disaster,” Dumbledore said while nodding. Harry laughed.

“Lastly, I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, but I urge you to use the remaining weeks to speak with Remus, and also with Miss Weasley”

“Ginny?” Harry asked surprised.

“Yes, if there is anyone of your age you can speak to who knows a thing about recovering from traumatic experiences involving possession by Voldemort, it’s Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore said gravely.

With that, he said his goodbyes and left Harry standing in the shed.

Chapter Text

As Harry walked up to the Burrow the smell of Mrs Weasley’s excellent cooking met him. Even though he had had a great lunch, courtesy of the Hogwarts elves, the aroma drifting out of the kitchen made his mouth water and his stomach rumble.

Entering the kitchen, he was surprised by the sight of Ron listening attentively as his mother explained what she was doing. He smiled at the sight. He had never really considered Ron to be someone who would be interested in cooking. But it made sense. A love for food was an important part of the Weasley way of life, Ron being a prime example of it. Being able to cook it yourself would be an important skill for them.

Ron and Mrs Weasley looked up as he entered.

“Oh, hello Harry, dear. How have you been? You’re just in time for dinner!” Mrs Weasley greeted him.

“Hey mate,” Ron said, “the Muggles treat you okay? Did you see Dumbledore today?”

“Hello, Mrs Weasley, hi Ron,” Harry greeted back. “The Muggles were the same as always. Let me just drop my bag off.”

He made his way upstairs but stopped on the stairs to observe Ginny, who had just come out of her room. Dumbledore had said that Ginny knew a thing or two about dealing with trauma. He had never really stopped to consider how traumatic her first year must have been. He silently chastised himself. How could he have considered it, if he had forgotten that it happened at all? He cringed at the memory of how Ginny had looked at him that day in Grimmauld Place. “Lucky for you,” she’d said. But even after that conversation, he hadn’t really thought about how she had dealt with it.

Of course, the Weasleys had gone to Egypt that summer but had that been beneficial or detrimental to Ginny’s recovery? Before he could think any more on the subject, Mrs Weasley called for everybody to come downstairs for dinner. He greeted Ginny on this way up and hastened to Ron and his room.

During dinner, Harry told the Weasleys about Scrimgeour's visit. His responses to the Minister resulted in chuckles from everyone, though he wasn’t sure whether everyone agreed with all his arguments. It was a shame that Remus was away for a short mission for the Order, as Harry had wanted to speak with him about Potter House. He told the Weasleys about the House, the Fidelius Charm, and the House Elves.

Half an hour later, a sated Harry looked at the faces of those attending dinner. Ginny was joking around with the twins, with her body angled in such a way she had part of her back turned to Fleur. Bill was speaking with Mr Weasley, with his fiancée listening attentively. Mrs Weasley was looking fondly at the table, while Ron was also silent, having eaten himself into a stupor.

Remembering his friend’s advice from two weeks ago, he spoke up. “Hey, Bill, can I ask you something? Does Gringotts have an inventory of each vault?”

“They don’t have it at hand but they can do it for you, for a fee. Why are you asking?” Bill said

“Well,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t waited to ask this until after dinner, “It’s just that I have no clue about the contents of my vaults. It probably would be a good idea to have at least some idea how much I own.”

Bill laughed, “Yeah, that does sound like a good idea. Gringotts records how many Galleons, Sickles, and Knut are stored and any fluctuation in it, but any other valuables don’t have to be logged. You can ask your account manager to make an inventory for you. Do you want me to put in a request?”

“Yes, please, thank you!” Harry said. He had no clue who his account manager was but, at least now he could get some grip on his financial situation. Before coming to Hogwarts he hadn’t had any pocket money and he still didn’t spend a lot of money even after he was told about his vault. The only time he could recall spending money unnecessarily was when he had bought the three Omnioculars for the Quidditch World Cup Finals. He was also very curious about what else was in the vaults. He hoped that there would be some immaterial valuables in there, stuff from his parents.

He looked over to the other side of the table, where Ginny was sitting, now talking with Ron. He remembered what Ron had said about her when he first came to the Burrow. He’d called her “mental” but also said that normally she wasn’t shy at all, and could be a pain. It was just him that she had been weird around.

His second year he had almost no contact with her, until the end that is, apart from that singing valentine card she had send him. What did it say again? Something about him being divine and conquering the Dark Lord. He chuckled softly. Even if he was embarrassed by it, he assumed that it had nothing on how she felt thinking back on it.

It was kind of incredible to see how she behaved around him now. No trace of awkwardness was left. Then again, she had overcome much harder things than an awkward crush. That was something they had in common, Harry realized. Both had experienced events that others might describe as traumatic. At least Dumbledore had described them as such. They both had also not hesitated to throw themselves into danger a second time or in Harry’s case a third and a fourth time.

While he didn’t think he needed to talk to Ginny about this, like Dumbledore had suggested, Harry did think it was weird how little he really knew about Ginny, apart from the superficial. And what about Luna, or to a lesser extent, Neville? All three of them had come with him to the Ministry and even though the whole incident was primarily overshadowed by his guilt, he had to acknowledge their bravery and friendship. While he wasn’t sure whether Luna understood the danger they might be in, he thought he could at least guess what Ginny and Neville must have been thinking.

Dinner came to an end, and after playing some games of chess with Ron, losing spectacularly every time, they called it a day and when to their room. When they were lying in their respective beds, Harry decided to just ask Ron about Ginny.

 “Hey, Ron?” Harry called softly, turning over to look at his friend.

“Hm?” a sleepy answer came from the other side of the room.

“Can I ask you something personal about Ginny?”

“Ginny? What about her?”

“After… after the Chamber, how did she, you know, recover from that? Dumbledore said something to me that made me think it was more than just a hug and a cup of chocolate”

Ron remained silent for a while, his breathing the only clue he had not fallen asleep.

“I can’t tell you that Harry. We all had to promise her to never tell anyone,” his voice came through the dark.

While Harry could respect that, it also meant he would have to ask Ginny directly if he did want to know, which he still wasn’t sure he needed to anyway. It was a private matter of course. But then again, he really did not want to have a repeat performance of that conversation that had been running through his head the whole evening. “Lucky for you.” Ugh, Harry groaned mentally. He felt incredibly embarrassed about it, he hadn’t even apologized to her!

He assumed she probably hated him for it afterwards. First, he had never talked to her about the Chamber, which to be fair to himself, he hadn’t talked with her at all that much, but secondly, he had then gone on and told her he had forgotten. ‘Maybe it’s as a good idea to change that’, he thought, realizing that that first point had already begun to change this summer. They had been around each other much more than usual, after all.

--In Her Memory--

The next day Harry approached his old Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who had joined them for breakfast. Remus had been in and out of the Burrow, doing small tasks for the Order.

Harry had talked about Hermione with Remus, but he had not yet talked to anyone about Sirius. Remus had given him the chance to do so a couple of times but Harry had always hesitated. But he had given himself three tasks to do this week: speak with Remus about Sirius, speak with Ginny about the Chamber, and talk to Ron about the prophecy. And the former was more important to both Harry and Remus. Harry was afraid talking with Ginny would only serve to summon old demons for her, so he wanted to feel her out first. If she’d made it clear that the subject was off-limits he wouldn’t pursue the topic further.

Remus was sitting against a tree, reading a novel that Harry didn’t know. Deciding that was as good a conversation starter as any, he asked him what he was reading.

“It’s a fantasy epos called the ‘Lord of the Rings’, by Tolkien. It’s a muggle book. I have always been fascinated with Muggle mythology and folklore, so I like reading fantasy. Especially, if the story involves some form of werewolf”, he added with a wink.

Harry smiled at that, but it also made him think about Remus’ furry little problem.

“I’ve heard of that series, but I haven’t read it. It’s supposed to be good.” He waited for a moment, trying not to overthink the coming conversation.

“I was wondering. You know, without Sirius here…” another moment of silence, as Remus looked at him encouragingly, “what will you do during the full moons?” he finally asked.

Remus sighed. “The same thing I did when Sirius was in Azkaban,” he said sadly.

“Which is?” Harry enquired

Remus looked uneasy for a moment but seemingly decided to answer anyway. “Lock myself in the cellar under my house. Or spend the transformation with a werewolf pack.”

Harry gasped, horrified. “No!”

Remus continued. “I don’t have a choice, you know, I can’t buy the Wolfsbane potion, and the cellar was designed specifically by my father for my transformations. There are cushioning charms and noise-blocking charms all over the place.”

“I can buy the potion for you, I have the money,” Harry offered.

Remus smiled. “I know you have the money, Harry. Money isn’t the problem. The lack of safe buying locations is. Most Apothecaries in Wizarding Shopping centra like Diagon Alley don’t sell Wolfsbane and shops in places like Knockturn Alley aren’t trustworthy enough. They’d be just as likely to make it poisonous as a way to rid the world of werewolves.”

Harry was horrified, but not surprised. His general view of the Magical World had been steadily growing more negative.

“Let me guess,” he said scathingly, “they don’t sell the Wolfsbane because that would be bad for business?”

“Right in one,” Remus replied.

Harry sighed deeply and they remained silent for a moment or two. Harry contemplated the best ways to help him.

“Well,” he said, drawing Remus’ attention from his book, “I guess there’s only one thing to do then.”

Remus looked at him quizzically. Harry smirked.

“I’ll just become an Animagus so I can keep you company!” Harry said with genuine excitement.

A mix of emotions made its way over Remus's face. Sadness was mixed with joy and proudness mixed with disbelief before a sad smile came out on top.

“You really are both James’ son and Sirius’ god-son, aren’t you?”

Harry merely grinned at him.

“With that in mind,” Remus continued, “I know it’s completely useless for me to say this but I will anyway. Please don’t feel like you have to do this for me. Though, I realize you won’t be doing it just for me, right?”

“I have been thinking about it for years, to be honest” Harry admitted. “Context aside, it is one of the coolest pieces of magic I’ve ever seen. And I think it’d be a good trick to have up my sleeve, especially if I never register myself.”

Remus laughed at that. “I can see you’ve given it some thought. Do you have any idea where to start?”

“Not really.”

Remus remained silent for several long moments, stroking his chin. Harry let him think.

“Okay,” Remus finally said, “here’s what I would do. First, ask Kreacher to bring you all books on Animagi transfigurations that can be found in Grimmauld Place. To be safe I’d also ask him to search for similar books in Potter Manor. Read up on the process and when you’re back at Hogwarts, ask Professor McGonagall for help.”

He continued in a somewhat more stern voice, reminding Harry that the man had indeed been a professor. “However, you will have to improve your transfiguration a lot before even bothering to start with the process. If I remember correctly, conjuration and human transfiguration are subjects covered in your upcoming year, so the timing is quite good. They are vital to completely understand, both in theory as in casting.”

“You seem to know quite a lot about the process,” Harry remarked. He wondered why conjuration would be an important skill but figured he would read about it in a book at some point.

“Well, I did end up helping James and Sirius figure a lot of it out. James might have been a transfiguration prodigy but even for him as a second and third year, understanding the process was a task too difficult to figure out alone. We didn’t ask McGonagall for help, naturally. I also had to help with brewing the potion, as I was better than them at potions.”

“Which kind of potion do you need?” Harry questioned.

“It’s a potion that forces the drinker into a meditative sleep and enables them to connect to an animal. You’re supposed to have a vision of some sort that tells you your Animagus form,” Remus explained.

“You didn’t drink the potion? Why not?”

“What would be the point? I’d just see the wolf.”

Harry pondered this statement for a moment. He did not know enough about werewolves and Animagi yet to make an educated argument, but this idea had popped into his head. Remus was one of the only werewolves out there that had had formal magical training, so it wasn’t like there were werewolves out there who could even try to become an Animagus. How awesome would it be if that was the key to living with Lycanthropy? Giving in to it? Accepting the wolf as part of you, even willingly transforming when it was not a full moon at all? He didn’t want to ask Remus these questions, however, so he remained silent.

Remus had been watching him. “What were you thinking about?” he asked, as Harry looked up again.

“Oh, nothing really,” he lied.

Remus didn’t buy it, but let it go. Harry thought he probably didn’t want to talk about his lycanthropy anyway. So he decided to just plunge ahead with a talk he knew he should have.

“I miss him,” he blurted out. “Especially because I know there’s so much we didn’t talk about, like the Animagi process. Sometimes it feels like I didn’t even really know him, you know?” He felt his throat tightening and his eyes were starting to water.

“Do you want me to tell you some stories?” Remus proposed kindly.

“Yes, please,” Harry said softly.

They spent an hour talking about Sirius. Tears were shed, but as was seemingly par for the course when telling Marauder stories, not all of them were sad ones.

--In Her Memory--

Having had one difficult conversation, with at least two still to go, Harry decided to just go on ahead with the other two. Aside from the conversation with Ginny he wanted to have, he also still had to inform Ron about the contents of the prophecy. He didn’t know which conversation he was dreading more.

After dinner, the choice was made for him. Ron began a chess match with Bill, which meant he’d be busy for at least two hours. With Fleur providing a very helpful distraction for Bill, they would probably be evenly matched, meaning the game would probably take some time to finish. Ginny went up to her room, which was perfect for Harry. This was a conversation to be held in private after all.

So, he made his way up the stairs. He stopped in front of the door he knew was Ginny’s, but he hesitated a bit. He had never been in Ginny’s room before. Well, to be fair, he had never been in a girl’s room before, so he wondered what it would look like inside. He snickered a bit when he considered that it probably wouldn’t be as orange as Ron’s room was.

Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, he knocked three times.

There was no immediate answer, but instead, he could hear some stumbling going on in the room, then footsteps coming toward the door. Ginny opened the door, seemingly unsurprised to find Harry standing there. She leaned against the doorframe, looked at him, and said: “Hello, sir, how may I help you?”

Harry chuckled softly. Ginny was very funny, which was something he had only really noticed this summer. “Hi, I wondered if I could have a word with you in private?”

Ginny looked intrigued and beckoned him in. With a soft “thanks”, Harry made his way inside and looked around the room with interest. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it was comfy and cozy. Three posters adorned her walls, one of the Weird Sisters, one of Gwenog Jones and the Holyhead Harpies, and a simple poster, possibly made by Ginny herself, saying “It’s okay not to be okay”. There were also multiple sayings and lyrics written on a Muggle chalkboard. The open window provided a view of the Quidditch Pitch.

“Like what you see, Potter?” Ginny asked.

“Oh,” Harry said embarrassedly. He had clearly been quite obvious in his interest in the room. “yeah, sorry, it looks nice.”

“The first girl's bedroom you’ve been in?” Ginny guessed, with a teasing tone.

Harry looked away shyly.

Ginny took pity on him. “So, what’s up?”

Harry sat down in a chair, while Ginny took place on her bed. This allowed Harry to look out the window. He glanced over at Ginny, who was waiting patiently and decided to just get it on with.

Still staring out the window, he started her off with a warning.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, but I need you to understand that it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he began.

“Oh Merlin,” Ginny said under her breath, “I hope this is not what I think this is about.”

Harry shot a quick look at her, but she seemed composed so he carried on. “It’s just that Dumbledore said something the other day that made me think about what you’ve gone through and how you dealt with it.”

Ginny sighed deeply. “Go on,” she encouraged nevertheless.

“Dumbledore suggested that I talk with you… and I realized that I have no idea about what happened after.”

“Yeah?”

“So I wanted to know what did happen? How did you, you know, cope?”

“With what specifically?” Ginny asked. Harry wasn’t sure whether she was playing dumb or not.

“You know…,” Harry trailed off. He was already regretting starting this conversation.

“Just spit it out, Harry”

“I was talking about the Chamber,” Harry said cautiously.

“Ah,” Ginny turned to look out the window herself. “Why do you want to talk about that?”

“Because I realized that even after what I told you last Christmas, I still kind of act like the Chamber didn’t happen,” Harry confessed. “And I feel bad about it because I realized that maybe I could’ve helped you, but then I also realized I have no idea what happened to you after your first year. I imagine that you didn’t just bounce back after a cup of hot cocoa and a good night’s sleep, you know? I was just wondering whether you’d been bothered by it afterwards.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed. What a stupid thing to say! Of course, it would have had a major impact. Ginny’s incredulous look only drove that point home. Luckily for Harry, she let his stupidity slide. For now, at least.

“You didn’t ask Ron?” Ginny asked.

“I did,” Harry confessed softly, embarrassedly, while looking out the window again, “but he said he promised you to not tell anyone.”

“Really?” Ginny said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t expect him to hold himself to that promise…” she trailed off.

They both remained silent for a couple of moments.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay,” Harry repeated.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, although I could easily go through life without talking about it for even a single time more. I don’t think anyone has the right to hear the story, but if someone would have, it’d be you. Considering you nearly died, the Chamber was quite traumatic for you as well.” She said it as if it was a fact.

That statement bothered Harry. Was he traumatized? He didn’t think so. He hadn’t developed a fear of snakes or something like that.

“Might do you some good to talk about it as well,” she continued, not aware of Harry being distracted by what she said. “I just have to come to terms with the fact that I am going to tell you.” She thought a moment before a smile quickly came and went. “I’ll trade you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Where could she go with this?

“I tell you something about the aftermath of the Chamber, and you tell me something about living with the Dursleys.”

Harry could feel the colour drain from his face. “What… what are you getting at?” he demanded, his voice wobbly, but not from anger.

“My dear brother Ron might not notice or realize, but I know that my mother and I do.” She answered in a carefully controlled and calm voice.

Harry felt his palms beginning to sweat just a bit and he squirmed in his discomfort.

Ginny noticed his physical reaction and snapped her fingers to get his attention. “I know you don’t want to talk about that,” She reached out to grab his hand but he had subconsciously begun retying his shoelaces over and over, not looking at her. “Which is exactly why you can’t say that it has been ‘fine’ like you probably want to,” she continued nevertheless, “but I rather not talk about my experiences so it’s only fair, I guess?” she questioned herself.

Harry shrugged dejectedly.

Both remained silent for a bit, Harry switching between looking out the window or at his hands.

“Okay”, Ginny said, clapping her hands. “Here’s what I suggest. If you still want to talk about the Chamber, I expect you to talk to me about the Dursleys before we go back to Hogwarts, okay? That will give you some time to think about it. And please believe me when I say that I only want to know because I think it’d be good for you to talk about it.”

“How can you know that, though?” Harry questioned, just a tad bit bitterly.

“Personal experience,” she replied succinctly.

Harry thought it over for a couple of moments. He didn’t want to talk about living with the Dursleys. Then again, he hadn’t wanted to talk about Hermione and Sirius, but in both times it had become a bit easier to deal with after he had, hadn’t it? Maybe there was truth to what Ginny was saying.

“Okay”, he mumbled.

“Okay,” she repeated. “You know, I have only really talked about it all with one person before.”

“Your mum?” Harry guessed, being shaken out of his contemplation.

“Oh Merlin, no” Ginny said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Not for lack of trying on her part though, she was really pushing me to talk actually. She only stopped because we went to Egypt that summer. That trip was actually what helped me the most in the long term. I only recently realized that there was more to visiting Bill than just visiting Bill.”

Harry just remained silent, preferring to just let Ginny tell her story. He wasn’t about to question anything she said.

“You know how Bill is a Cruse-Breaker, right?” Harry nodded. “It’s honestly baffling how I didn’t see it sooner, Mum and Dad took me to someone they know and trust that has personal experience with dark artefacts.”

“Makes sense”, Harry said catching on to what she was saying. “So Bill is the one who helped you?”

“Yes and no. First of all, the only person who can actually ‘help’ you,” she said with air quotes, “is yourself. In the end, you have to do it yourself.” She paused a moment. “But Bill certainly kickstarted the process. While in Egypt he taught me some spells, he wrote Dumbledore asking who the new Defence professor would be and then wrote to Professor Lupin, Remus I mean. He also recommended I see a Mind Healer.”

“Remus? Wait, a mind healer?” Harry was surprised, and did not know what to focus on first.

“Which surprises you?” Ginny asked.

“er… actually, when I think about it, neither.” It did make sense to inform the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor about students that had suffered from experience with dark magic. A mind healer, Harry assumed was just the magical equivalent of a muggle psychologist. That still didn’t tell him much as he wasn’t quite sure what they did, but he assumed that they helped people cope with traumatic experiences.

“Gringotts employs mind healers of their own, you know. It is expected for curse breakers to at least once see or experience something that may traumatize them. Those Old Egyptian wizards didn’t play around with their curses, you should hear some of Bill’s stories,” Ginny continued.

“I thought Goblins didn’t care about humans?” Harry questioned.

“Oh, they don’t,” Ginny said flippantly, “it’s just more profitable to employ a mind healer to squeeze out some more years from the curse breakers than it is to constantly train new ones.”

“So, I guess that Bill has experience with a mind healer and that is why he suggested you see one?”

“Yep.” She waited for a beat and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Last year, he suggested that you see one.”

Harry huffed and then scowled. “Bill should mind his own business,” he thought. “I didn’t need to see a mind healer, I’m not crazy!... Oh!...”. He realized he had probably walked right into Ginny’s trap and his thought process had clearly shown on his face. Even with the Occlumency lessons with Snape, he still had no control over his emotions.

“Prim said that one of the classic mistakes people make is that they hold themselves to higher standards than they do others,” she said, with a knowing look on her face, “they expect more from themselves than they do from others. But that is just unhealthy because it means you either think of yourself as “better” or you think of others as “lesser” in some way. “

“I know you don’t think either”, she said before Harry could protest, “but do you see what I mean?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. He did see what she meant. He could understand why Ginny had needed Mind Healing but he would probably never think he needed it himself. He could already imagine Uncle Vernon yelling at him that he was a freak who ‘should be put into a mental facility.’

“Well, anyway, “ Ginny continued, as it was clear that Harry wasn’t going to verbally respond, “so, Bill advised my parent that I see a Mind Healer. But after being possessed for most of ten months,” she looked away, out of the window, “and not having control, I absolutely hated being told what to do. Still do, actually.” She shook her head slightly. “It was hard for Mum. She couldn’t force me to do it or kidnap me or something because that was what Tom had done. So she had to make me see I needed to go. Regardless, I was mad at her for weeks after.” She shook her head but smiled at that statement, which puzzled Harry. “I didn’t even say anything to Prim that first meeting, I don’t think.”

“Prim was your Mind Healer?”

“Oh I’m sorry, yeah, Primrose Jorkins, née Barlow, married to Bertha Jorkins’ younger brother, do you remember her?”

“She was the Ministry employee that Wormtail captured, right?” Harry answered. “I thought that was all covered up by Fudge?”

“It was but Dumbledore informed the family personally.”

Harry thought for a moment. “So you still had Mind Healing sessions in your third year?” he asked Ginny.

“Yes. Up until a couple of weeks into my fourth year actually, but not as intensive as it was that second year.” She hesitated a moment. “It started with the fallout of the diary and the chamber, of course, and the immediate trauma, but in the end, we also talked about other stuff. We exchange letters about once a month now, but the actual sessions are done. She’s kind of like an older sister to me know,” Ginny said with a smile.

“Did she come to Hogwarts during the term?” Harry inquired.

“She did, yes.”

Here Harry encountered a problem. Mind Healing was probably quite expensive and Ginny had had sessions for over two years. The Weasley’s lack of money had always been left unspoken, at least in Gryffindor, but everyone knew either way. So how did they manage to pay for Ginny’s Mind Healer, and, a more pressing problem, could Harry ask about this? And if so, how? He decided on an indirect approach.

“Wasn’t that expensive?” Oh well, kind of indirect. Harry mentally slapped himself across the head.

Ginny laughed out loud. “I can understand why you’d wonder about that.” She frowned. “It was mostly paid for by the selling of Basilisk parts, as I understand it. Dumbledore offered it.”

Harry also frowned. “They sold parts of the Basilisk? Dumbledore never told me.”

“He didn’t?” Ginny asked surprised. “Maybe he thought you had money enough or something? I think he offered everything to my parents, but they declined and he decided to pay for my Mind Healing and invest what was left in Hogwarts. My parents couldn’t really decline that.”

She looked at Harry. “Maybe you should ask Dumbledore why he didn’t talk to you about it,” she suggested.

Harry exhaled slowly. “Yeah… maybe I should …” he trailed off.

“You should probably head down soon,” Ginny said, “before Mum and Dad are going to start thinking things.” She said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Harry gaped at her in amazement. The shy little girl she was when they first met was gone completely. Had it taken her 3 years to again be who she once was? Harry had no idea whether that was quick or not.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he answered, deciding to tease her back a little, “a thought you’d have wholeheartedly been okay with four years ago!”

Ginny didn’t quite turn red from embarrassment but Harry could see he had cracked her composure a bit.

“Well, yes, we’re all allowed our childhood fantasies, right? How could I know you’d be such a surly, miserable git in real life?” she shot back.

“Ouch”, Harry remarked sarcastically. While Ginny’s crush on him was something he had gladly ignored, he found it nice to be able to joke about it with her.

“So … er… you’re dating Dean now, right? How are you two dealing with being away from each other during the summer?”

“Oh, you know, exchanging some letters, trying to coordinate something of date in Diagon Alley when we go buy our books.”

“He’s treating you good, then?”

Ginny actually laughed at this. “What are you, my seventh brother? Please, I get enough of that already.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said. “I don’t really see you as sister, so it’d be unfair to act like a brother, I guess.”

Ginny smiled brightly.

“And before Dean, you were dating Michael Corner right?” Harry continued

“Yes?” Ginny said, drawing the word out, both questioning and cautious.

Harry, sensing that he was kind of walking a tightrope here, was quick to placate her “I don’t mean anything by it, I was just… you know, hoping we could be better friends than we have been? And don’t friends talk about this kind of stuff together?”

Ginny blanched at that. “You want to be friends?” she managed to get out.

Harry wasn’t sure why that had affected her so much. “Yes, why wouldn’t we be friends? Haven’t we been?” he questioned.

Ginny took a deep breath. “It’s just, being friends with you… that was actually the last task Prim set me during our mind healing session. The only task I hadn’t completed yet, not to my own satisfaction at least. So, to have you come out and just say it… it really means a lot.”

Harry gulped a bit at the sight of Ginny tearing up slightly. Having to comfort Ron had been awkward enough, and his experience with Cho did not provide him with the idea that he’d be any good at comforting Ginny.

“What kind of tasks did Prim set for you?” he asked, hoping to distract her.   

“Just things I had to do, which would help me. Like talking to strangers, that took me a long time to be comfortable with. Like, Prim set me the task to go talk with Luna. We were friends before Hogwarts but I don’t think we really talked that first year. So, reconnecting with old friends was one of the first steps. Then I had to talk to my classmates, first only the Gryffindors, in the end even the Slytherins. Don’t get me wrong that took me most of the year to work up to, but I can honestly say that I did it. I have friends in all houses, even one or two Slytherins. Even though they’d probably deny that,” she added while laughing.

“So that’s why you said that the only one who could truly help is yourself?”

“Yes, Prim just setting me the tasks wouldn’t have helped me at all, I actually had to go out and complete them,” Ginny said, “although I guess you could argue that she knew what tasks to set, meaning she did help me.”  

“That seems like a smart way to go about it,” Harry said thoughtfully, “tackling your issues head-on. Like a true Gryffindor,” he added with a smile. Ginny returned his smile.

“Well,” Harry said, standing up, “better head downstairs, as you said.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said, “don’t forget your promise though!” she added as Harry walked out of the room.

 He turned around and looked back at Ginny. He had never had such a conversation before, and soon the roles would be reversed. Harry would talk about his experiences with the Dursleys and Ginny would listen and ask questions.

Not something he looked forward to.

--In Her Memory--

That night, while lying in bed, Harry revisited his conversation with Ginny. She had told him about Prim and the tasks she had set for Ginny. Considering the tasks given, she had clearly suffered from some form of social anxiety and probably some trust issues as well. What Harry still did not know, was what had exactly happened between Ginny and the diary.

Of course, he knew that the Diary had enticed Ginny into pouring her soul into it, both figuratively and sadly also quite literally. Tom Riddle had mentioned Ginny telling him all her secrets. He must have manipulated her into isolating herself, but how had he done that? What manner of vile lies had he told her? Ginny hadn’t gone into detail about her contact with the diary. Which was fair enough, Harry thought, considering he had only asked her about how the aftermath had been. How did the Diary even work, Harry wondered. What magic was involved with it? He decided he would ask Dumbledore about it.

Thinking about Dumbledore, also brought him unto the subject of the prophecy. He decided to just rip the plaster off and tell Ron tomorrow. He wondered how Ron was going to react. Previously, he probably would not have reacted at all and would have just let Hermione take the lead. But… Harry didn’t want to think about that too much though. So he decided to try to think about nothing and go to sleep.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up the next day with heavy heart and tired eyes. He had slept even worse than normal, his mind racing between the prophecy, Riddle’s Diary, and his earlier years with the Dursleys. He looked over at Ron but his bed was empty. Ron did not always get up this early anymore, but he had done so today.  

This allowed Harry a few moments of quiet contemplation. The lines of the prophecy ran through his head. As he finished the third line, he remembered that the prophecy could also have been about Neville. That reminded him of the fact that it was Neville’s birthday today. He had never exchanged letters with Neville before, but he probably should considering what the boy had risked for him. The same was true for Luna. He decided to just get his day started and write the letters after breakfast.  

After breakfast, which was once again partly cooked by Ron, he ran upstairs to get his writing supplies.

As he started his letter to Neville, he looked up to Ginny who was still at the table drinking her tea.

“Hey, Ginny, when is Luna’s birthday?” he asked.

“February 13^th, why?” she answered without having to think about it. The mark of a great friend, Harry remarked to himself.

“Oh, because it’s Neville’s birthday today, so I was just wondering,” Harry said, with his eyes on his letter.

“It’s Neville’s birthday today?” Ron asked coming into the room. “Since when do you know?”

“Er…” Harry stalled for time. He could not yet tell Ron he knows because Dumbledore told him. “He mentioned it one time because our birthdays are after each other you know?” he lied.

“And you think you owe him at least a birthday wish after what happened in June?” Ginny guessed. She picked up the other piece of parchment. “And I guess you’re writing Luna too?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, eyes on his letter to Neville. Ron remained silent and stood next to the table for a moment. As he made to go outside, Harry made to speak up but he didn’t want to tell Ron that he wanted to speak with him in front of Ginny. He didn’t want her to think they were going to discuss the previous night. Instead, he decided to distract her by asking a question.

“You went with Neville to the Yule Ball, right? Did you have fun?”

A snort got his attention and he looked up at Ginny. She was looking at him with a mix of mirth and something he couldn’t place. Her raised eyebrow wasn’t hard to explain, though.

“Why do you ask, Potter? Want to catch up on four years of missed friendship?”

Harry frowned. With her using his surname and what she said, it seemed kind of angry. The tone of voice, however, was more or less playful. He looked at her questioningly.

“What?” she asked, the question clear on her face.

“It’s just, you saying ‘Potter’ and that last part, makes you seem angry with me,” Harry stated. “But I’m not sure why you would be angry with me.” He went back to his letter to Neville.

Ginny didn’t answer immediately. When Harry chanced a glance she was looking out of the kitchen window, thinking about something. Harry continued writing, crossing a part out.

After a minute or two, Ginny spoke up.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I wanted to think about your questions and what the true answer was,” she said. She took a deep breath and looked Harry in the eyes. “The petty part of my brain said that you asking me about the Yule Ball was proof that you only have time for others when you’re on the out with your actual friends.”

Harry looked at her flabbergasted, and she hastily continued: “But like I said, that’s the petty part of my brain jumping to conclusions. I like to call him Snape.”

This derailed Harry’s thinking, as he had to do a double-take and then ask with a snicker: “You named the petty part of your brain Snape?”

Ginny grinned. “Yeah, it was one of Prim’s exercises actually. It helps to create distance between yourself and what your brains tell you.”

Harry didn’t quite understand that, but he let it pass. “Do you really think I only talk with you when I’m not seeing eye to eye with Ron or Hermione?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow in challenge. “When have you ever just hung out with Seamus, Dean, or Neville? Without Ron or Hermione? I know Ron did so, but that was when he wasn’t speaking to you. You didn’t talk to anyone except Hermione before the First Task, I think.”

Harry swallowed. Except for Cho, he couldn’t think of a single occasion when he had gone out of his way to speak to someone other than Ron of Hermione. Well, there was yesterday… but that didn’t count.

Ginny continued. “Do you even know who the other two Gryffindor girls in your year are?” she said teasingly. “Besides Lavender and Parvati?”

“You mean Lily and Sophie? Of course, I know who they are!” Harry defended himself.

“Have you ever actually spoken with them? Besides a ‘hello’ or ‘can I borrow a quill?’”

Harry thought back through his years at Hogwarts, trying to remember if he had. He had to have had at least one conversation with them, right? To his surprise, he couldn’t think of one, besides their very first day at Hogwarts, when they were sitting with each other after being sorted.  

“Wow,” he said slowly. “I honestly think I have never really spoken with them. So, what does that mean? Why did ‘Snape’ tell you that?”

At this point, Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen and Ginny whispered “We’ll talk later.” As Ginny engaged her mother in small talk, Harry finished his letter to Neville and read it over.

Neville,

Happy Birthday! How has your summer been so far? I wanted to thank you for what you did last month. I also want to apologize. I was stupid and put you in danger. You were incredibly brave, though. I had at least some idea of what was going on, but you, Ginny, and Luna walked in completely blind.

Did you get a new wand? You broke yours right? Hope your Grandmother wasn’t too angry.

Harry

As he put the letter in the envelope, Ginny asked him to wait with sending it so she could add a letter of her own, and maybe Ron wanted to send one as well? Harry agreed and started his work on his letter to Luna.

Dear Luna,

How has your summer been so far? Found any –

“Ginny, what’s that creature that Luna’s always searching for? The somethingsomething Snorkack?”

“Crumple-Horned Snorkack”

“Thanks”

Found any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks yet? I have a vague memory of you mentioning that they can’t fly, is that true? I’m writing you to both thank you, and apologize to you for what happened last month. I put you in incredible danger, and I’m sorry. You, Neville, and Ginny were incredible!
I hope you’ve been doing well.

Harry

Harry looked over his letter. He wasn’t sure what to say to Luna as they hadn’t talked that much. Which Harry was beginning to realize was true for almost everyone except for Ron and Hermione, and maybe the quidditch team. He looked up as Ginny came downstairs with her writing supplies in hand.

“You’re done writing to Luna?” she asked him.

“Yeah, why?”

“Can I see?”

Harry frowned. “Why?”

“Luna sometimes has difficulty understanding what people have written if they use sarcasm, for example,” Ginny explained. “As you’ve never written her before, I want to prevent miscommunication. Especially because I think she’ll be very happy that you wrote her,” she smiled at him.

Harry shrugged, and gave her the letter.

Her brown eyes scanned the paper. She sighed. “It’s fine… except for the reason you’re writing her, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Luna’s not going to like that you blame yourself. You should have heard the things she told me in second year”.

Harry made a contemplative noise.

“Also,” Ginny continued, “I should probably warn you, don’t expect Luna to write you back like others would. You’ll see why. Maybe.”

--In Her Memory--

Later that day, having sent his letters with Hedwig, Harry got Ron to meet him in his room. It was time to tell him the prophecy and he decided to just jump into the deep end.

He looked out the window. The summer heat had drastically decreased since the beginning of July. Mr Weasley had explained that Dementors were breeding, which was causing mist and rain. Because the Burrow was located in the countryside, it had taken some time for that influence to reach them. Dementors mostly dwelled outside big cities.

Ron sat on his bed, looking expectantly at Harry. Harry sighed. ‘Here we go’, he thought.

“I know what the prophecy says,” he blurted out.

Ron’s face whitened and he took in a deep breath. Before he responded, however, he stood up and walked to his door, opened it and peered out. Apparently satisfied, he closed it again and turned around to look at Harry. 

“How bad?” he asked simply.

So Harry told him.

Ron didn’t interrupt but his breathing became deeper and more forceful like he was purposefully focusing on it.

Silence surrounded them as Harry finished. He wished Ron would say something.

Ron exhaled forcefully and said, “Bloody hell, mate”. He looked at Harry and made a move like he wanted to come over to him, but stilled.

“So, you actually are the Chosen One? Because You-Know-Who chose you rather than Neville?” he asked instead.

“Huh”, Harry said, “I hadn’t really thought about it that way, I guess I am literally the ‘chosen’ one.”

They fell silent again.

Ron let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what to say or do,” he admitted out loud.  

“Yeah…” Harry trailed off. It was moments like this when it became painfully clear that his friendship with Ron had been inextricably entwined with his friendship with Hermione. Just like Ginny had said. It would never be the same again.

“I miss Hermione,” Ron said with a sigh, the double-layered meaning of the statement clear to both of them. “She would know what to say or do, you know?” Another shuddered breath escaped.

“What would she have done?” Harry wondered out loud.

“Go through it line by line and race to the library to map out all possible meanings,” Ron suggested.

“Maybe,” Harry agreed.

“So, this was the weapon the order was protecting? Why? Does it really matter whether You-Know-Who knows the prophecy?”

“I’m not sure, Dumbledore said that Voldemort knows the first two lines. He heard about someone with the power to defeat him born at the end of the ‘seventh month’, born to those who have thrice defied him. That was enough for him to act, but he also knows there’s more to it than that.”

“But, even though he didn’t know the other parts, he’s been trying to off you anyway, right? So why would it matter if he knew the rest?”

“er...” Harry said, thinking about it. “Because… otherwise he would come at me more forcefully and I need time to prepare?” he said. “Maybe Dumbledore will explain during our lessons next year.”

“Lessons with Dumbledore?” Ron asked.

“Oh, didn’t I mention those? Dumbledore want to give me private lessons next year, he was rather vague about it, to be honest. He only said he thought it was time he was more directly involved with my education and he would tell me why we needed Slughorn at Hogwarts.”

“Wonder what that’s about…” Ron said.

As they were talking anyway, Harry decided to also tell Ron about his decision to try to become an Animagus (Ron immediately decided to join), a deeper conversation about the problems with the Ministry (Ron seemed to agree with him), and whether they were going to continue the DA and if so, what they were going to teach and what the new name should be.

“You want to teach other stuff than defence?” Ron asked.

“Well, not me no, but don’t you think it’s really stupid we never bothered to study Healing?” he offered.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ron agreed, wiping his hands over his face while stifling a yawn, “so you want to ask Pomfrey to teach that?”

Harry was surprised by that suggestion and Ron continued: “I mean, the DA doesn’t have to be underground anymore, so we can ask the professors for help, right? Didn’t Hermione mention something about Flitwick being a duelling champion? We could also ask Mad-Eye, I guess.”

“Good idea!” Harry said enthusiastically.

They brainstormed some ideas about what to do with the DA, without being too concrete. As the discussion finished, Harry asked Ron a question he’d been wondering about for a while.

“Ron, do you know what that curse was that Hermione was hit with? Or who cast it?” he asked tentatively.

Ron looked at him and then looked away. “Yeah, Mad-Eye told us, it’s… personal for our family.” He stayed silent for a moment. “Have I ever told you about Fabian and Gideon, Mum’s younger twin brothers?”

Harry shook his head, “I know they were in the Order and Mad-Eye said it took a large number of Death Eaters to take them out.”

“Yes, it was Dolohov. We know for certain that Dolohov was at least directly responsible for Gideon, but probably also for Fabian. It was the same curse that he used for Hermione…” he trailed off. He looked angry. “It’s so stupid! 16 years later, and we still don’t know how to heal that fucking curse!” He threw a pillow across the room.

Harry just sat there, quietly.

“It’s just that, sometimes it’s like nothing has changed since the last war!” Ron stated angrily.

“That’s probably because it hasn’t,” Harry supplied.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Ron said, deflated.

--In Her Memory--

Harry came downstairs to see Fleur sitting in the living room, looking quite bored and a bit forlorn. He had noticed that Mrs Weasley and Ginny’s disapproval of Fleur had not abated at all. He decided to try to cheer her up. “Hi Fleur, want to go for a walk?”

Fleur sprang up immediately. “Oui!” she said eagerly.

“Eager to get out of the house?” Harry asked with a chuckle.

Fleur looked a tad embarrassed and silently shrugged a shoulder.

As Harry had promised Dumbledore to not leave the Burrow and the wards only covered so much, they couldn’t really walk. So, they walked over to the other side of the pond, through the trees, and out to the furthest part of the grounds the wards reached. That spot provided a nice view of the grasslands of Devon.

As they walked and made small talk, Harry had thought about whether to say something about what he had noticed about Ginny and Mrs Weasley. As he sat down on the makeshift bench, which looked like a magically elongated camping chair, Mr Weasley’s doing no doubt, he decided that there really wasn’t a reason not to. He also wanted to get to know Fleur a bit better, they had been Triwizard champions of course but he hadn’t even written her a letter afterwards or anything, and as he had realized at the beginning of this summer, he didn’t even know she and Bill had been dating, let alone that they were engaged. This was exactly the kind of thing that Ginny had meant about him not talking to anyone except for Hermione and Ron.

“So… it seems like Mrs Weasley and Ginny are not your biggest fans”, he stated dryly. Fleur let out a humourless chuckle.

“Indeed.” She sighed. “C’est la vivre du Veela, female jealousy is as constant a companion as male attention is.”

“So you think they’re jealous?” Harry asked. That didn’t seem to fit with his view of Mrs Weasley and Ginny, but then again, he didn’t really know them that well, on a personal level right? “Wouldn’t that be … kind of weird?” he added.

“Harry!” Fleur scolded teasingly. “Not like that!”

Harry turned beet red and looked away embarrassedly.

“But non, you are right. I don’t think they are jealous, but I don’t know if I’ve done something wrong?”

“I could try to find out if you want? When did they find out you were dating? I had no idea, and then you told me you were engaged. Kind of a shock, to be honest.”

“You didn’t know?” Fleur gasped. “How come you didn’t know?”

“Who should’ve told me?” Harry shot back.

“Ronald, of course!”

“Did he know?”

“Why wouldn’t he have known?”

“I don’t know, he never mentioned it to me, that’s all I know”

Silence stretched for a while.

“When did you start dating Bill?” Harry asked curiously.

“Oh, we started working together at Gringotts and we started dating only a week or so after.”

“Isn’t that kind of quick?” Harry wondered out loud, “but then again, I saw the way you looked at him during the family day before the third task,” Harry said, smirking at Fleur.

Fleur blushed, “Veela just know these things. I think this is one of the problems Mrs Weasley has, for her the engagement seems rushed, for me and my family it’s only logical.” She sighed happily. “It was so romantic,” she said with a faraway gaze, clearly reminiscing. Harry let her.

After a minute or so, Fleur came to and looked at Harry. “And you, Harry? Any nice girls at Hogwarts?”

This time Harry blushed, but in embarrassment rather than whatever Fleur had been feeling. He made a noncommitted grunt, somewhere between a positive and a negative.

“Non? Well, you could always write to Gabrielle”, she said with a smirk and a slight push to his shoulder.

Harry laughed at that. “Well, if I wanted to date a fangirl, I could always ask Ginny,” he said, but regretting it immediately. Not a nice thing to say, to both Ginny and Gabrielle. Time for a distraction. “I dated Cho Chang for a while last year though.”

Fleur smirked at him and then did a double-take. “Cho Chang? The pretty Asian girl? Went to the Yule Ball with-

- with Cedric, yeah,” Harry interrupted. He wasn’t painting himself in the best light right now, was he?

“Didn’t work out?” Fleur asked, lightly.

“No, we only had two things in common: quidditch and Cedric. Cedric wasn’t a happy topic and you can’t talk about Quidditch forever,” ‘No matter how much Ron tries sometimes,’ he added to himself.

“Well, don’t hesitate to write if you need tips,” Fleur said, “or about anything, really.”

Harry promised her he would.

--In Her Memory--

That night Remus returned and with seven they ate dinner. Remus didn’t look good, gaunt and grim and also with a clear aura of sadness, that even Harry could see. He wondered if he should provide him with a chance to talk about Sirius, but he wasn’t completely sure that was the cause of Remus’ mood. He brought news of Dementor Attacks and that Igor Karkaroff’s body was found, who as Remus said, had done quite a good job escaping Voldemort for so long, seeing as Sirius’s brother Regulus only manage a couple of days. Bill supplied them with more bad news about Florean Fortescue, the ice-cream king of Diagon Alley, and Mr Weasley told them that Ollivander had been missing. Harry hoped that Neville had been on time if he did get a new wand.

Speaking of Neville, his reply to Harry’s letter stating he had gotten a new wand came in after dinner. Apparently, his Gran was quite proud of him and he had been one of the last ones to get a wand from Ollivander. He didn’t say anything about Harry’s apology, which didn’t sit quite right with Harry. He hoped Neville wasn’t angry with him. But if he was, he would not have replied. Right? Considering the letter was quite a bit longer than the one Harry had sent, he hoped Neville had just forgotten to respond to it.

The next day was Harry’s birthday. He still needed to finish that conversation with Ginny but he decided that could wait. No reason to bring yourself down on your birthday, he mused. It really hadn’t anything to do with his reluctance to talk about how he had been a recluse during the last 5 years, so he told himself. Or that he didn’t want to talk about the Dursleys.

As it was a Wednesday, Harry didn’t expect a party. He got one anyway. What he also hadn’t expected, was Luna arriving unannounced during the afternoon. As she had come unannounced, she couldn’t enter through the wards, and Remus had to go let her in.

Harry, with Ron and Ginny, was waiting for her outside of the house. As she walked into view, Harry spotted she was carrying a present. She was wearing a white summer dress that had been charmed with a lot of moving butterflies. Or, maybe they were some of Luna’s creatures? The blonde girl was seemingly in deep conversation with Remus. As they drew nearer, they could just hear the end of their conversation.

“… so no, Luna, you don’t bother me at all, even if you’re named after the moon,” Remus said with a bemused but fond smile on his face. Harry suppressed a snort, thinking of how Luna probably was in a class environment. He heard Ginny also chuckle.

As they arrived, Ginny hugged Luna. “Hi, Luna, what a nice surprise!”

“Hello, Ginny”, Luna answered with a smile. She looked over Ginny's shoulder to where Harry and Ron were standing. “Hello Harry, Hello Ronald.”

“Hey Luna, I didn’t know you were coming,” Harry greeted Luna back.

She looked to the right. “Oh, my” she murmured in surprise. He looked over to see Fleur walking towards them.

“That’s okay, I didn’t either,” she answered, slowly bringing her gaze back to Harry and Ron.

“Is that a present for Harry?” Ron asked, pointing at the box in Luna’s hands, “we can put it with the others on the kitchen table if you want?”

“Are you staying until dinner, Luna?” Harry asked.

“Probably,” Luna answered distractedly, not taking her eyes off Harry. She cocked her head slightly to the side. Harry squirmed a bit under her gaze.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Luna answered, a bit more clearly, shaking her head like a dog getting rid of water. Or, like Luna getting rid of Nargles, Harry thought to himself.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay, dear.” Mrs Weasley said from the backdoor. “The more, the merrier.”

As Luna and Ginny walked back inside, Ron leaned over to whisper to Harry. “Is it just me, or did Luna seem more … er… than normal?”.  

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Whatever the best way was to describe Luna, she certainly seemed more of it than usual. “Maybe we can ask Ginny if she knows what’s up?” he proposed.

“She does know her best,” Ron agreed.

--In Her Memory--

At Harry’s birthday dinner, there were more people than he had expected. Apart from the Weasleys, Fleur and Remus, Tonks had come, looking distinctly colourless. Luna was there, apparently having come to the conclusion she would stay.

After eating to their heart's content and singing Happy Birthday to Harry, it was time for presents. Here, he got another surprise.

“Harry, dear, this present came by owl this afternoon, while you were outside. It’s from Professor Dumbledore.” Mrs Weasley told him. “He also said to let you know that Hagrid was planning, but couldn’t make it, unfortunately.”

Harry accepted the gift and accompanying letter, wondering why Professor Dumbledore had decided to give him anything at all. He hoped it had something do with their private lessons. He read the letter first.

Dear Harry,

I wish you the most happiest of birthdays possible. While it is unusual for a Headmaster to give birthday gifts to students, I couldn’t think of a better occasion to gift you this book. Yes, I recognize the irony in me gifting you a book, when it was I who lamented the fact that people are wont to give me books! However, books, literature more specifically, can often be a great way to escape the realities of life. Therefore, I gift you this book of happy endings, in the hope you can someday write your own.

With the most kindest of regards,
Albus Dumbledore.

Harry read the letter curiously and then opened the parcel. It seemed the Headmaster had given him a book called The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It seemed to be a book of Wizarding Fairy Tales. The book was clearly not new.

“Ah! The Tales of Beedle the Bard” Mr Weasley commented. “Are you familiar with it, Harry?”

At Harry’s headshake, he continued. “They are kids' stories. I believe the muggles call them … er … something magical like …”

“Fairy tales,” Harry supplemented, realizing as he did so that Hermione would’ve done so at least three seconds earlier.

“Yes, fairy tales, that’s right. May I see it?”

Harry handed the book over. Mr Weasley frowned as he saw the state the book was in. He opened it and something he read surprised him.

“I think, Harry, that this is the Headmasters’ own copy of the first edition of the book. I wonder…” he trailed off.  “Yes, the book is filled with annotations and notes on the stories. Quite a gift,” he added as he gave the book back.

“So it has the original version of The Fountain of Fair Fortune?” Bill asked his father.

“It should have, yes.” Mr Weasley answered. At the questioning glances of Harry, Ginny and Ron, he added, “The original version featured a quite prominent marriage between a witch and a muggle man. In some editions of the book, this has been rewritten to be a witch and a wizard. No need to tell you why some people objected,” he finished with a dark look.

“Be sure to write him a thank-you letter, Harry, dear” Mrs Weasley advised.

Harry agreed and accepted a gift from Bill and Fleur.

“This is a Gringotts Instantly-Refilling-Money-Bag.” Bill explained. “It will continuously top itself up to a predetermined amount. They’re enchanted with feather-weight, shrinking, and notice-me-not charms, to make carrying it with you easier and to prevent it from being pickpocketed. From the moment the bag touches your skin, it will only open for you. I also fulfilled your request, you’ll find the information in the bag. I suggest you open it somewhere privately.” He added with a  wink. 

Harry nodded his understanding and thanked the couple. He did notice Mr and Mrs Weasley sharing a look and Remus hiding his second smile of the day.

Next up was Luna, who gave him a big box that weighed almost nothing. He opened it to find the box empty. He looked questioningly at Luna.

She smiled at him. “It’s an accepted apology,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry could see the confused faces around the table, except for Ginny who smiled knowingly at Harry and then fondly at Luna. Harry gave Luna a small smile. “Thank you, Luna, that means a lot.”

“Not that I understand why you did apologize, but Daddy says it sometimes better to just accept that not everything can be explained,” Luna added.

Harry thought that was a rather interesting observation for Luna to make, considering he was sure Luna had an explanation for everything. Next came Ron, who gave him a box of assorted candies. Fred and George, from whom Harry had not expected anything, gave him a Weasley Wizarding Wheezes gift voucher. They all promised they would visit when their booklists were delivered. Harry also got an Auror training manual from Tonks, who tried her best to look enthusiastic as they talked a bit about what was in it.

The evening was spent in (mostly) good spirits, as the butterbeer and fire whiskeys for the older generation flowed freely. Harry and Ron, with the help of Fred and George, managed to disguise the fire whiskeys they had sneaked past Mrs Weasley as butterbeer, only to be busted when Harry took his first sip and immediately started coughing as he had underestimated the strength of it. Mrs Weasley was fondly telling them both of. This proved to not be the only alcohol-related anecdote to be told in later years as an hour later Luna realized that Remus’ nickname was Moony.

“Wait… you’re Moony?” she asked with barely concealed glee.

“Yes?” Remus asked cautiously.

“Then, then. Wait!” Luna said, thinking hard about something, eyes glassy. She laughed out loud. “That means that, I’m Luna, you’re Moony, you’re Remus, I’m Loony” she sang, barely making it to the end of her poem before laughing so hard she cried.

“Oh, no!” Ginny said dramatically but with a fond smile. “Who gave Luna butterbeer? Mum, didn’t I tell you to keep her away from the butterbeer?”

“Is she drunk?” Ron questioned, amazed. “How do you get drunk from butterbeer?”

Ginny shook her head. “You know how she is when she’s sober, this is just her with … er… lowered inhibitions.” She walked over to Luna and hugged her. “Come on, Luna don’t call yourself Loony.”

Luna just laughed again, before she looked up to Remus, who was at this point just amused, and asked, quite seriously: “Do you think rhyming nicknames are a sign of true love?” Remus’ smile slipped from his face. Harry saw Bill and Fleur tense up but didn’t understand why. It seemed Ginny did, as she pulled Luna into a standing position. “Okay, Luna, let’s go.”  

Luna looked up to her and said “Oh, okay, Ginny”. As Ginny walked her into the house Harry could swear he heard Luna giggle, a sound which he had never heard her make before. Ron and he looked at each other before laughing disbelievingly and shaking their heads. After that Remus made them all go to bed, while Bill and Fleur went to his (or their? Harry wasn’t sure actually) apartment in London. Tonks had pulled an Irish Goodbye.

As Harry lay in bed, he wondered again what was happening with Tonks and Remus. Did they miss Sirius? Tonks and Sirius had been cousins after all. Maybe he should talk to her about Sirius? He decided it was a better idea to first ask Ginny, she seemed to know what was going on.

--In Her Memory--

The next morning he woke up alone again, as Ron had made his way downstairs already. This gave Harry the perfect opportunity to read the Gringotts documents Bill had gotten him. He grabbed the bag Bill had given him and pulled out a note and an official Gringotts document. He read the note first:

Harry,

This is a Gringotts Instantly-Refilling-Money-Bag. I’ve set it up to refill to 20 galleons. This way you won’t have to visit your vaults. The security at the bank has been increased and it is a chore to get through all the checkpoints. Important to know, however, is that these bags are usually only given to major account holders. Consider that a clue for what you’ll find on the Vault Inventory!

Bill

“Major account holder?” Harry questioned. He pulled out the Gringotts document and opened it to see a letter and a document and started reading the former.

Mr Potter

Enclosed you will find the requested information regarding your vaults. Please be advised that due to your status as a minor, you will not yet be able to open your main family vault. An appointment for the key handover will be scheduled somewhere between July 25^th and August 7^th 1997. Your account manager, Geldgraag, will contact you approximately a week prior.

May your profits and wealth be ever plentiful,
Odbert
Chairgoblin of Gringotts’ Vault Inspection Division.

The fact that Harry wouldn’t be able to go into the Potter family vault did not surprise him. Whether he would have wanted to, considering the security measures Bill had spoken of, would be determined by the contents. He grabbed the official-looking document.

Gringotts Vault Inventory

Mr Potter has (future) access to two vaults at Gringotts:
 *  (1) Minor Vault (automatic refilling)
 * (1) Family Vault

The vaults contain a sum total of: 87.172 Galleons, 6 Sickles, and 24 Knuts divided as such:         
                                               Minor vault: 400 Galleons (refilled on July 1^st, 1996)  
                                               Family vault: 83.172 Galleons, 6 Sickles, and 24 Knuts

Nonmonetary items in vault storage*:
* Please be advised that due to privacy policy, Gringotts Goblins can only give an overview of the non-monetary items stored in a vault.

Minor Vault: none
Family Vault: Jewelry, Books, Photos, and 2 chests of drawers.

Almost 90.000 galleons, Harry mused. That was obviously a lot but he wasn’t sure how much that really was. What was the conversion rate between Galleons and pounds? He’d have to ask Bill or Mr Weasley about that. He was also very excited by the nonmonetary items. He wondered what kind of books were in the vault. His father was supposedly very good at Transfiguration, so maybe some Transfiguration books? He would have to ask Remus whether he knew what kind of books were in the vaults. Jewellery, maybe his parents' wedding rings? Harry already had some photos of his parents but he was excited by the idea that there might be photos of his grandparents as well.

After his morning ablutions, he went downstairs for breakfast. Mr Weasley had already left and Bill and Fleur were either at work or the apartment in London. Ginny and Ron were halfway done with breakfast already.

“Oh, good morning Harry, dear.” Mrs Weasley greeted. “There are still some eggs and bacon in the frying pan.”

“Good morning, Mrs Weasley. Thank you,” he responded. After putting his breakfast together, he sat down at the table.

“Did you have fun yesterday?” Mrs Weasley asked.

“Yeah, I did! Thanks again for the birthday cake, it was delicious!” Harry said with a smile. He then turned to Ginny. “Did Luna sleep over?”

Ginny shook her head. “No, I floo-called her Father and send her through”

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips disapprovingly. She obviously wasn’t a fan of ‘drunken shenanigans’ like last evening’s. “That Luna. Ginny, please make sure she stays away from the butterbeer at your party?”

Ginny just nodded while Ron and Harry laughed. “I always thought only House-Elves could get drunk from Butterbeer,” Ron commented.

“She wasn’t drunk” Ginny defended. “Luna already has a hard time trying to not flaunt social conventions when she’s completely sober, you can imagine how more difficult that becomes when she has a buzz going on.”

“And just how do you know that, young lady?” Mrs Weasley asked heatedly. “Have you been drinking at Hogwarts?”

“Xeno told me”, Ginny replied smoothly. That was a lie, Harry knew, because he was quite sure he had seen her and Luna drinking butterbeer after Gryffindor won the quidditch cup last year.

Seeing that Mrs Weasley did not believe her and was gearing up to reply, he decided to both help Ginny and himself.

“Mrs Weasley,” he quickly said, “do you know the conversation rate between Galleons and Muggle English Pounds?”

“I have no idea, Harry,” she answered while still glaring at Ginny.

“1 Galleon equals about 5 pounds” Ginny answered quickly. Ron looked at her funny. “I learned that in my first year of Muggle Studies,” she explained.

Harry did some quick maths. That means that he had just under £450.000. His eyes widened. He was almost half a millionaire! Well, he would be next year. Major account holder indeed! He blushed as he realized that Bill probably knew of his riches. That was embarrassing.

“Harry, are you okay?” Ron asked. “You looked kind of… shocked?”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to this as he felt different emotions rearing up inside of him. First of all, he didn’t want to talk about his money with the Weasleys. Even if Mr Weasley now had a better paying job, he was quite sure he was still richer than them. At the same time, he had spent so much time at the Burrow he felt like he should do something for them. But he couldn’t do that without mentioning the fact that he could allow himself to do so and not be in trouble. He’d have to discuss that with Mr and Mrs Weasley at some point, preferably before they went to Diagon Alley so he could buy something if he wanted to. Ginny’s birthday was coming up, he could buy her something nice!

As Ron, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley were looking increasingly worried at him, he realized he still hadn’t responded.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just…” he trailed off. “I just realized something, that’s all.”

“Care to share, mate?” Ron asked.

“Not yet, Ron, I’ll let you know,” Harry said. This seemed to be good enough for the three and Ron, Ginny and Harry spent most of that day on the quidditch pitch again.

Chapter Text

The first week of August was spent quite like most of July had been. Harry, Ron and Ginny played a lot of quidditch, especially after their Hogwarts letters had arrived. Harry had not even thought about who would be Quidditch Captain that year so he was surprised when he found the badge with his letter. There was also a painful moment when Ron realized he’d still be a prefect next year and he’d have to do it without Hermione. They wondered whether her badge would be given to someone else, and who it would be. They guessed it would be Parvati, as her twin-sister Padma was a Prefect for Ravenclaw.

Unsurprisingly, neither Luna nor Ginny had been chosen as Prefect. Luna because she was, well, Luna. She had told Ginny she hadn’t become a prefect by sending a Howler. Ginny explained that Luna preferred sending Howlers because according to Luna “it is hard to convey emotion on a piece of parchment”. Ginny wasn’t chosen as a Prefect because, as she said in private to Harry with a huge grin, she probably spend too much time in detention. Harry had never noticed that Ginny got in trouble that much, but he had also realized that Ginny was quite like the Twins in her personality: outgoing, creative and cheeky. The big difference was that he had never seen the Twins angry and Ginny’s temper was highly flammable. When her temper did flare up, Harry was always reminded of the fact that she had a wicked Reductor curse. She probably was good in all variants of Exploding Charms, considering her sometimes explosive temper.

Harry and Ron also spend some time reading over their textbooks from years previous. They had silently agreed that they needed to put in more work but it had taken a while to implement that intention. Often they started with one of them asking “what would Hermione do?” They often spend time reminiscing about her, as it still hadn’t sunk in completely that she was gone. Their reminiscing often ended up with them becoming angry at the injustice of it all, reinvigorating their intention to do better.

In one such conversation, they had invited Ginny. They had discussed the battle at the Department of Mysteries and had tried to give each other feedback and tried to analyse the duelling that went on. One thing they agreed on was that being able to silently cast spells that were as powerful as their verbally casted spells was a priority. Dolohov had, to their detriment, been good at non-verbal spells, so they needed to be as good or better than he was at it.

Harry also had discussed his apparent reclusive tendencies with Ginny. He had admitted that he had been thinking about her words and that he had concluded that she was right. He had never realized how the friendship between Ron, Hermione and him had looked from the outside. But even if he had considered it, he was still appalled with some of the characterizations that made the rounds through the Hogwarts populace. Sure, they had been a trio, but they for sure hadn’t been a trio. Ginny had laughed as she told him that rumour. He also didn’t know what to think about the idea of Hermione and Ron protecting or shielding him at Hogwarts or keeping him for themselves, as the more negative view of that characterization had been.

It did strengthen his conviction that he needed to increase his relations with his peers. Sure, they had turned on Harry multiple times, but Harry realized he couldn't see his situation from their point of view. He was far better informed than his peers were, and they also had to contend with parents influencing them. Moreover, he would probably need all the help he could get in the future. This had also made him question why Lily and Sophie hadn’t been part of the DA. He had asked Ron about this, and he guessed that Hermione hadn’t asked them because they seemed to be the types that didn’t want to get in trouble and the DA had always been kind of shady. Ginny had agreed but had encouraged both of them to speak with the girls as she thought they both were fun. She said Lily reminded her of Luna, and apparently, Sophie had an interesting background, which she wouldn't tell them about. Harry saw this as the challenge it was meant to be. He’d have to ask her himself.

Today was August 9^th, Harry would be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, as it was a Saturday and Mrs Weasley didn’t want to go without Mr Weasley. That meant, that the conversation that he wanted to have with them concerning his money would have to take place tonight after dinner. He’d been dreading this conversation this whole week and considered talking to Remus about it. However, he knew that Remus also wasn't very financially stable, although he wasn’t sure whether Sirius had left him anything.

It was for this reason that Harry was still in the kitchen after dinner had ended and most of the other dinner guests had left for the sitting room. Mr Weasley sat in his chair at the head of the table, while Mrs Weasley was busy herself with the dishes. Before he could say anything, Mr Weasley spoke up.

“Are you going to tell us what’s been bothering you, Harry?” he said, looking over his paper, an evening edition of the Daily Prophet. He folded it in half and put it on the table. Molly was still tending to the dishes but had decreased the amount of noise she made, probably so she could listen to the conversation.

“Was I that obvious?” he asked Mr Weasley, who chuckled and shook his head. “Molly and I have raised seven children, Harry, we can almost always read their behaviour. Now, granted, we haven’t spent as much time with you, but I think our parental instincts are good enough to know when something is bothering you.”

Harry smiled. “Well, it’s true, I wanted to talk to you about something but…” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Are you afraid of what we might say? Or aren’t you sure we are the right people to talk to this about?” Mrs Weasley asked, turning around and leaning against the kitchen counter.

“If you have a question about girls, I’d be willing to talk to you about them again,” Mr Weasley said teasingly before ducking Mrs Weasley’s swipe with the dishcloth.

Harry laughed, a bit embarrassedly and having flashbacks to “the talk” Mr Weasley had given him and Ron.

“No, that’s not it,” he said. “Do you remember me asking Bill to ask Gringotts to give me an inventory of my vaults?” he asked them.

“Yes,” Mr Weasley asked curiously, while understanding showed on Mrs Weasley’s face.

“I’m guessing you were shocked by the results?” she guessed.

Harry nodded, his cheeks turning red.

“I see. And what did you want to talk to us about?” Mr Weasley asked.

“It’s just…” Harry sighed but felt a determination come over him. “I have quite a bit more than I had ever thought. You have been so incredibly good to me.” His gaze switched from the tabletop to Mrs Weasley. “After… the ministry… I just realize that I need to thank you before it’s too late” He choked up, he hadn’t thought about saying this at all but he realized it was true. He would never have the opportunity to tell Hermione what she meant to him. He would never have the opportunity to spend years with Sirius as he had with the Weasley parents. And according to the prophecy, he needed to get a move on before it was too late for him to say anything at all. Mrs Weasley came over to him and hugged him, still gripping the dishcloth.

After a while, Harry regained his composure. “It’s just, I have all this money, and I could probably live off it for the rest of my life if I was careful, but I’d rather spend it on my friends… and family. Christmas presents and… for example, Ginny’s birthday is on Sunday. I want to buy her something a bit more expensive than I previously might have, something nice. But I’m not sure if that’d be okay.”

Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at each other. Harry wondered whether he should assuage their fears about charity and that this wasn’t like that. Instead, he marvelled at the sight of the married couple having an entire conversation with slight head nods and facial expressions. He wondered if that could ever be him one day. He hoped so.

The door to the kitchen suddenly opened.  Entering the kitchen, Ginny stilled as she saw the scene in front of her. “Oops,” she murmured, pulling an apologetic face.

“Just gives us a minute, would you, dear?” Mrs Weasley said. Ginny nodded, turned around and backed out of the kitchen.

Mrs Weasley looked at Harry. “Harry, dear, don’t you think you’ve done enough already? With Ginny and Arthur…” she trailed off, the emotion written on her face. She started washing the dishes again.

“Harry, we appreciate you coming to us about this,” Mr Weasley began. “I think you are smart enough to consider what kind of gifts are appropriate and which might be considered too much to give to friends. Keep in mind that you are giving them presents because they are your friends, and not because they are children of Molly and me.” He reached out and put his hand on Harry’s right shoulder. “But we appreciate that you are trying to keep us in mind, especially since… certain accusations have been made in the past towards me.” Mr Weasley frowned and Mrs Weasley turned red. The presence of a certain, unmentioned Weasley child, hung heavy in the room.

Mr Weasley sighed, retracting his hand. “If you are not sure whether something is okay, you can always ask us or Bill. I’d just suggest you keep it to birthdays and Christmas gifts.” He smiled. “If you ever come across a book on aeroplanes, my birthday is on February 6^th” he joked, winking at Harry as he dodges Mrs Weasley’s swipe with the dishcloth again.

Harry laughed and stood up, “I’ll keep it in mind, Mr Weasley”. He left the kitchen and joined Ron and Ginny in the sitting room where they were playing chess.

--In Her Memory--

The next morning Ron and Harry woke up at roughly the same time. The plan was to head into Diagon Alley after breakfast, so they had time enough to explore Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ginny had tried to convince Mrs Weasley to let her meet up with Dean for lunch but Mrs Weasley didn’t like the idea of anyone going off alone. She hadn’t listened to Ginny when she argued that she wouldn’t be alone. Mr Weasley explained there would be security following them around and they couldn’t split up.

Harry lay in bed, making a mental list of things he needed to buy.

“Hey, Ron. What are you giving Ginny for her birthday?” he asked his friend, who was currently in the process of dressing.

“Chocolate frogs, why?” he asked with his back turned towards Harry.

“Chocolate frogs, huh? Did you ever manage to complete your collection?” Harry asked, thinking this might be something he could give his friend at some point.

“I found Agrippa back in … er…” Ron had stood up and scratched his cheek, where a couple of red hairs had grown, reminding Harry that he should buy a shaving set for himself in Diagon Alley. “I think it was the summer before third year. Yeah, I remember, I wanted to tell you but I forgot completely because of all the news about Sirius escaping from Azkaban.”

“So you’re only missing one, right?” Harry asked curiously.

“Yeah, just Ptomely left” Ron answered. “Why you asking?” he said through a huge yawn.

“Does Ginny collect the cards?”

“No.”

“Is that why you give her chocolate frogs, so you can have the cards?” Harry teased.

Ron scowled at Harry and hit him with a pillow. Harry laughed as he defended himself. “Shut up, Harry, if you don’t watch it I’ll kick you out of my room!” Ron threatened good-naturedly.

Harry stopped laughing and looked at his friend earnestly. “I’ve been wondering actually. Are you still not fed up with sharing your room with me?”

“Why do you think I get up so early every morning?” Ron answered, clearly only half-joking.

“To spare your mother the arduous task of having to cook breakfast for you and your hollow legs?” Harry shot back. Ron was still helping with and learning to cook breakfast.

“Well, yes” Ron agreed, laughing. “I actually like cooking, never would have guessed.”

“Who would have thought,” Harry said, the sarcasm as think as the layer of marmalade Ron put on his toast every morning.

Ron threw another pillow.

“No, but seriously, Ron,” Harry said, “I’ve been thinking about moving to the Twins' old room anyway”

Ron walked over to Harry and put his hand on his shoulder. “Harry, mate, as much as you’re my friend, I would honestly not be upset if you did just that.” Harry pushed him, but Ron just laughed.

Ron made to walk out of the room but stopped before he was out of the door. He turned around to look at Harry. “Why did you ask about my birthday gift for Ginny?” he asked.

Harry pulled on a sock. “Oh, I was just thinking about buying her a present, wanted some advice from you if you had some.”

Ron walked back into the room and sat on his bed again. He wore a slight frown. “Okay, Harry, spill. What’s been going on with you and my sister?”

Harry looked up. “What do you mean? We’re just friends,” he said.

“Since when are you friends, though? You never paid much attention to her until now.”

Harry didn’t completely agree with that sentiment, as she’d always be one of the people he noticed first in the Great Hall. Probably because of her hair, he supposed. Sure, he hadn’t talked to her much, but he did notice her.

Before he could answer, however, Ron continued. “It’s just, you know how she was when she was younger, and, erm, I hope you are not, you know, feeling guilty about the Ministry, and talking to her because of that.” He said this very hesitantly.

“I mean, yeah I am doing it because of that,” Harry said seriously. “I feel like the least I can do for her and Luna and Neville is to talk with them after what happened. I’d be a right git if I would just ignore them now, wouldn’t I?” he demanded.

“I guess” Ron agreed reluctantly. “But don’t you think being friends with someone because you feel you owe them is a bad place to start a friendship from?”

Harry caught on to what he meant, so he was quick to assuage Ron’s fears. “Oh, I think Ginny is cool. She’s funny, smart, cheeky—”

“- and still my sister, and I don’t want to hear anymore.” Ron interrupted putting his hands over his ears. “Isn’t it bad enough I have to share our dormitory with Dean next year?” He scowled at Harry as if it was his fault.

Harry shook his head, laughing at his friend's antics. He could always go into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy something Quidditch related for Ginny. She had proven to be quite the talent after all. He put it on the list for Diagon Alley.

As they walked down to breakfast, Harry remembered he still had to ask Dobby and Kreacher about the Animagus books, so before he ate breakfast, he went to the sitting room and hesitantly called “Dobby?”

A soft pop could be heard, as Dobby materialized in front of Harry. “Harry Potter has called for Dobby!” he said as a greeting, his high pitched voice travelling far enough for the others to hear in the kitchen. Ron and Ginny came into the sitting room looking curiously. Ron grinned as he spotted Dobby.

“Hello, Dobby, wicked trainers!” he greeted, as Dobby had indeed begun wearing what looked to be Nike shoes. Harry wondered where he had gotten them from.

“Harry Potter’s Wheezy!” Dobby greeted Ron back, then he looked at Ginny. “Miss Ginny!” he squeaked excitedly.

“How do you two know each other?” Harry asked both bemused and amused.

“Dobby always makes me my hot cocoa when I go for a late-night run to the kitchens,” Ginny said with a smile, high-fiving Dobby. She looked over her shoulder at the kitchen to see if Mrs Weasley was listening in. As she wasn’t, she lowered her voice and whispered “He may or may not have helped me with a few pranks” she said winking at a nodding Dobby.

“What can Dobby do for Harry Potter, sir?” Dobby asked Harry eagerly.

“Ah, yes, I was wondering whether you finished cleaning up Potter House?” Harry asked.

“Yes, should I have informed Harry Potter?” Dobby suddenly looked horrified, and he jumped off the table. Harry, having experience with Dobby’s self-harming antics, intervened before he could start hitting his head on the table leg.

“No, no that’s all right, Dobby,” he said quickly. “Thank you. I was just wondering whether you’d come across books on Animagus transformations in the library?”

“Dobby is not sure, sir, Dobby will go check!” With that, he popped away. Harry was just about to summon Kreacher when Ginny spoke up.

“Harry, I have several questions right now, but most importantly didn’t you say you and Professor Dumbledore put your house under the Fidelius Charm?” she asked.

“Yes, we did, why?” Harry asked.

“Did you tell Dobby the secret?” she asked.

Harry felt a cold grip on his heart. He had not, of course, so how had Dumbledore managed to summon Dobby? 

“No, I haven’t! Dumbledore summoned him there the first time, even though he isn’t the secret keeper!” Was the Fidelius that easy to circumvent? This was clearly a huge security risk, something he’d have to rectify somehow.

“Well, House Elf magic is other than ours right?” Ron said, “Maybe the Fidelius doesn’t work on elves?”

“Wait, I know someone who might know. Kreacher!” Harry called.

The once filthy looking House Elf popped into existence. He wore a clean Hogwarts uniform but without the Hogwarts crest. Even though Kreacher himself looked a bit cleaner since the last time Harry had seen him, he still wore a dirty look as he looked up at Harry.

“Master called?” he said with his croaky voice, before muttering, “and the blood traitors brats are here too, Kreacher wonders where he is, oh if his Mistress had seen him now…”

“Kreacher,” Harry said warningly. Ron and Ginny looked on with narrowed eyes.

“Kreacher, I have a question for you. Do you know what a Fidelius Charm is?”

He nodded, scowling nevertheless. 

“Great. How do they affect House Elves?”

Kreacher was silent for a moment. “Kreacher doesn’t understand, master,” he said eventually.

“If I was somewhere protected by a Fidelius Charm, would you be able to come to me if I called you?”

“A good House Elf always comes when his master calls,” Kreacher croaked.

“I think that’s a ‘yes’, Harry,” Ron said. Kreacher shot him a dirty look.

“Okay, and if I asked you to go to a place that is under the Fidelius, but I don’t know the secret, could you go?” Harry continued his questioning.

“Kreacher cannot go somewhere his Master doesn’t know,” Kreacher answered looking like he was going to start muttering but stopping abruptly.

“So, you could go if I was let in on the secret?”

Kreacher nodded.

“So, to review. You can break through a Fidelius if I called you, but only if I was there, right? You cannot break through a Fidelius if told you to go because I couldn’t tell you where to go.”

“Kreacher thinks so.”

“Think so or know so?” Ron questioned.

“Kreacher thinks so”, he repeated, shooting another dirty look at Ron.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Ginny questioned.

“Just wondering whether I need to make the house …er… House Elf proof, like ensure that only Dobby and Kreacher can enter it,” he explained.

Kreacher’s ears perked up and a glint in his eyes made it seem like he knew something. But he immediately looked down and started muttering under his breath again.

“Kreacher? What do you know?” Harry immediately asked.

Kreacher shook his head frantically and muttered faster.

“Kreacher, tell me what you know about warding a location against House Elves,” Harry demanded.

Kreacher sighed deeply, giving in to the inevitable. “Kreacher knows of certain wards,” He said carefully. “The Ancient and Noble House of Black has always demanded only Black family-elves can step foot in The Ancient and Noble House.” Here he stopped abruptly. He looked at Harry with loathing and then froze.

Harry, Ginny and Ron stared at him. Kreacher shook his head vigorously and said as if in a trance: “Master has demanded Kreacher tell him but Kreacher cannot tell anyone who is not an elf directly related to the Noble and Ancient House of Black but he has to tell Master but he cannot…” he continued muttering this way.

The three exchanged glances. Kreacher seemed to be stuck in a loop. Before Harry could say anything, Dobby popped into the Weasley’s sitting rooms with two books floating next to him. This snapped Kreacher out of his loop, but he still looked with loathing at Harry.

“Dobby has brought the books Harry Potter has asked for!” Dobby squeaked. He looked from Harry to Kreacher and back.

“Thanks, Dobby,” Harry said with a smile. “You can put them on the table there,” which Dobby did with a snap of his fingers.

“Does Harry Potter have anything else he would like Dobby to do, sir?” Dobby asked, casting wary glances at Kreacher.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Harry said. “I just asked Kreacher to tell me about ways to shield a location from House Elves, but he doesn’t seem to be able to tell me.” Dobby looked warily at Harry. It seemed like this was a difficult topic for some reason.

“May Dobby and Kreacher be excused for a moment, sir?” Dobby said.

‘Sure, Harry said surprised. Both elves popped away, a loud bang showing Kreacher’s reluctance to do so.

“I have absolutely no idea what’s going on,” Ron remarked. 

“Me neither,” Ginny admitted.

Harry laughed, “Yeah, I am clueless as well”

“Why is that any different than usual, Potter?” Ginny interjected quickly causing Harry to laugh again and give her a light, playful shove to the shoulders.

Strictly holding to the definition of a “moment”, the two House Elves popped back into the sitting room. They looked at each other, Kreacher sneering at Dobby.

“Dobby will explain, Harry Potter, sir!” The younger elf piped up. “Harry Potter gave Kreacher a demand that goes against certain House Elf Laws. House Elves may not, should not and cannot explain Elf magic to Wizards and Witches.” He shivered. “Dobby is already telling you too much,” and with that, he jumped towards the table leg.

“Okay, okay,” Harry said quickly, catching Dobby again, “so you cannot tell me how?” Kreacher stiffened, while Dobby nodded. It seems the older elf wanted to ignore the issue completely, while the younger one could say at least say something about it. Harry wondered whether that was because Dobby was a Free Elf.

He looked at Kreacher. “If I ask you to go to Potter House and make sure the only elves that can go there are you and Dobby, regardless of whether the masters of other House Elves are there, can you do that?” Kreacher remained silent but was obviously struggling with something.

Dobby spoke up again. “Dobby thinks it would be better if Harry Potter demanded rather than asked.”

“Why?” Ginny asked curiously.

“Maybe because they cannot tell you whether they can, but if you say they have to do it, they don’t have to tell you that they can?” Ron suggested. Dobby nodded, “It is also to do with the power of demands over asking,” he supplied.

“Okay, Kreacher, I want you to go to Potter House and prevent entry for all House Elves except for yourself and –“

“Only for Kreacher” Ginny interjected, “that way you can ask Dobby to check whether it has worked,” she explained as Harry looked at her curiously. He nodded appreciatively.

“Right. Kreacher, go to Potter House and make sure no Elves except for yourself can enter it!” he said to Kreacher, who looked both relieved and annoyed as he popped away.

“Dobby can you wait for a little while?” Harry asked. Dobby nodded.

“While we wait for Kreacher to come back,” Ginny said. “I have another question for you, Harry. Are you going to try to become an Animagus?”

“Ron and me, yeah,” Harry said, walking to the table to get the books Dobby had taken from the library at… er… from his library. There were two books. The first, Becoming the Beast Within: an Astute Analysis of Active Animagi by Deryn Pugh, seemed to be a collection of private observations from different animagi, whose names were redacted. The book had come out in the 19^th century. The second seemed to be part of a collection called “Transformative Transfiguration Themes”, this specific issue being about Animagi. It seemed to be a basic how-to guide.

He handed the books to Ron, “These seem helpful!” Ron nodded as he read the back cover of the two books before he handed them off to Ginny, who looked interested as well.

“Isn’t it really really difficult to become an animagus?” she questioned.

“Probably, we’ll find out I guess?” Harry scratched the back of his head, “but Sirius and my father managed it when they were fifteen, so it should be doable at our age. Remus said the timing is great, we’re focusing on human transfiguration in NEWT transfiguration anyway.”

Ginny handed him the books back. “Do you think those are all the books we need, Harry?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. “I want to ask Kreacher if he can look in the library at Grimmauld Place too, and I want to see if Flourish and Blots have any books on it. I should have written McGonagall actually, she’d know which books to get. Oh well.”

They stood around for a while, waiting for Kreacher and making small talk until Mrs Weasley came into the sitting room, demanding they eat breakfast right now as they had planned to leave in about 20 minutes. Harry looked at Dobby, who was still standing in the same place.

“Er, Dobby? Do you know how long it’s going to take Kreacher to do what I asked of him?”

Dobby nodded. “It will take Kreacher two to three days, Harry Potter, sir,” he answered.

Harry looked at him non-plussed. He had never heard of magic that took so long to cast or implement. “Oh,” he said embarrassedly, “in that case I’ll call for you if he returns, is that okay? I’m sorry to make you wait like this.”

“Dobby will come if you call, sir!” With that, Dobby popped away and Harry went into the kitchen to eat breakfast.

--In Her Memory--

About four hours later Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hagrid, who they had been glad to find out was their “security” for that day, were finishing lunch in the Leaky Cauldron. They had spent the hours before lunch buying all their necessities. Harry, Ron and Ginny had both needed new robes. They had a small run-in with Draco Malfoy at Madam Malkin’s. The pale, blonde boy was just leaving with his mother. Draco had looked like he had wanted to say something but he was dragged away by his mother, leaving him no time but to sneer at their group.

After getting new robes, they had made their way over to Flourish and Blots and they had spent quite some time browsing the aisles and shelves. Besides the books he’d need for his normal classes, for the first time since Harry started Hogwarts he bought some additional reading material. He found A Rudimentary Guide to Potion Ingredients by Brigid Brauwer, the book that the Twins had recommended. Books on animagi were rare and the only one they sold was the one by Deryn Pugh that Harry already had. He did find a nice book on Quidditch Chaser Formations that he bought as a birthday gift for Ginny. He wouldn’t admit this to Ron or Ginny, but he was quite sure that Ginny was guaranteed a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, even more so than Ron.

While they had walked from store to store, it had proven quite impossible to ignore Fred and George’s store. It hit the eye like a fireworks display. The large U-No-Poo advert had Mrs Weasley doubting whether to stick to the original plan or to march into the store to give her sons a piece of her mind. Harry, Ron and Ginny were openly laughing. Harry thought his investment seemed to be paying off, as every time they passed the store it had been jam-packed with laughing children and annoyed parents. 

After finishing their lunch, it was finally time to head to the store. Harry was excited. He was curious about the sort of stuff Fred and George had come up with without the limitations of being at Hogwarts or the Burrow. He also needed to ask them for an update on their research into Sirius’ mirror.

Fred and George were too busy to both give them a tour of the store, so Fred did the honours by himself. It was a sign of how loud, both in sound and in colour, the store was, that Harry didn’t even notice George walking back and forth between customers in the background, even with his magenta robe. Ron and Ginny had walked off to explore the store on their own, as did Mr and Mrs Weasley looking both proud and stunned. Hagrid decided to wait outside.

Fred showed Harry around the store, even taking him into a small side chamber where they sold Muggle Magic tricks.

“They’re not bestsellers, by any standard,” Fred said, “but there’ll always be people like Dad.” He laughed. “Come on through to the back, Harry, there’s something I want to show you.”

His interest piqued, Harry followed Fred, walking past a bright pink stall selling love potions, where George and Ginny were having a disagreement. At least, the way Ginny had her hands on her hips was so reminiscent of Mrs Weasley that it indicated George had done something to annoy her. 

Fred took him into the back. “I have two things to show you,” he said while rummaging through the shelves. “Ah!” he grabbed two pieces of parchment. “These are our prototype Instant-Letters.” He handed put them on a table for Harry to inspect.

“Instant letters?” Harry asked curiously, looking at the blank piece of parchment.

“Well, we’re still working on the name,” Fred explained, grinning. “We got the idea from you actually, well sort of anyway. Remember what Dad said about being able to communicate more easily, without having to rely on a Patronus? And Lupin suggested two-way mirrors, and you gave us some shards?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, we did our best to try to figure out how the mirror worked, but alas!” He said the last bit in a poor impression of Dumbledore. “Considering we never could figure out how they made the Map, we’re not surprised we can’t figure out the mirror either. However, our instant-letters are some sort of combination between the two.” He took out his wand from his magenta coloured robes, put it on one of the instant-letters and said “This is a prototype”.

Like the Map, inked dwelled up from the parchment and formed letters, which read “This is Prototype 1”. He repeated the process for the other parchment, which he gave to Harry. He grabbed a quill and scribbled something on the parchment. Then, he pointed at Harry’s parchment. Harry looked at it and saw it now also featured a small cartoon-like drawing of an owl.

Harry was intrigued. “So you drew it on your piece, and it copied it onto this one?”

Fred nodded. “Yes, we hope it can feature as some sort of silent communication. There are still many problems, though. For example, after the parchment is full you have to remove all the ink, which means you can’t send messages that are longer than what fits on the parchment, and we haven’t yet figured out a way to read previous messages.”

“Have you thought about using a scroll of parchment instead of just a single sheet?” Harry suggested.

“Yes, but at some point, the scroll will be full as well. Although…” Fred said trailing off. He looked pensive for a moment. “Maybe we could somehow use the rolling function of a scroll of parchment, or use an expansion charm of some sort.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“A full scroll of parchment can be read in its entirety by rolling it from the top and bottom.” Harry thought out loud.

“So maybe an expansion charm on the top scroll, making sure there is always more parchment ready?” Fred sighed “but then you’ll end up with a lot of parchment on the bottom scroll.” He shook his head. “But there’s something there, I think.”

“What was the other thing you wanted to show me?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes, remember those Headless Hats we made? We took that idea and ran with it, resulting in a whole assortment of Charmed clothing. For example,” he said, taking a black robe from a box and draping it on a chair. He grabbed his wand again, pointed it at the robe and cast a weak Fire-Making Charm at it. The robe caught fire immediately.

Before Harry could ask what was supposed to be happening, Fred had already cast an aguamenti to douse the flames. “Oops”, he said, laughing, “I grabbed the wrong box.” He grabbed the ruined robes and laughed again, shaking his head. Harry chuckled. “So, what was supposed to happen?”

“Well, we managed to make robes with certain defensive Charms woven into the fabric. So, robes with a weak shield charm, robes with fire-suppressing charms, those kinds of charms. Well, I say charms, but they’re actually a combination of runes and charms.”

“You know runes?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Well”, George said, coming into the back as well, “we kind of screwed up not taking Ancient Runes seriously, never knew there was so much prank potential in runes!”

“We asked Bill for help,” Fred admitted, “and are now trying to study them on our own,” George added. Fred looked over at his twin. “What did Ginny say?”

“Ah, our sweet little Ginnykins politely asked us to refrain from sticking our sniffing devices into her affairs, and if we were to do so anyway, we would be introduced to our boogers, in flying form,” George said, “although not quite in the same dulcet tones,” he added wryly.

The twins turned to look at Harry.

“Harry, you room with Dean, is he a good bloke?” they asked.

“…Er…” Harry said eloquently. “I guess? I mean, he is nice and at all, but I’ve never really talked with him about girls or anything like that,” he admitted. “I think he took Lisa Turpin to the Yule Ball, they dated for a while after I believe, so he must’ve been nice enough.”

The twins both made thoughtful noises.

“Anyway,” George said, “You can head out into the store and take whatever you want. You’ll find there are some very useful items you could use.”

The Twins accompanied Harry back into the store, where he spent a good half hour reviewing the store’s products with Ron and Ginny and asking the Twins about what they thought their best products were. Ginny, remembering the Twins had given Harry a gift voucher, had in whispers persuaded Harry to get certain products so she could use them. Harry had done so, but only after Ginny promised she wouldn’t use the prank items again him. Having done their shopping, they all returned to the Burrow, where Harry and Ron began reading some of their books.

Chapter Text

August went by relatively quickly. The day after Diagon Alley, they celebrated Ginny’s fifteenth birthday. She had seemed pleased with Harry’s present and she had cheekily asked whether the book meant that she was guaranteed a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry had answered with a stoic “no comment” that made them all laugh. Luna had been there, as had all the Weasleys except for Percy. Fleur, Tonks, Remus and Hagrid had also been present. Ginny’s gifts included some sort of basic make-up package, which Bill and Fleur had given her. Harry couldn’t quite read the look on her face. There was a hint of disapproval, and he thought maybe Ginny just didn’t like make-up. She never seemed to wear any, in any case. But when she got a similar package from Fred and George’s WonderWitch-line she had seemed happier. She had seemed a bit emotional opening Luna’s present, a small painting of the two of them looking at the sunrise from the top of a hill. She laughed fondly at Ron’s gift of chocolate frogs.

Two days after he had quite directly asked her why she didn’t like Fleur. She had defended herself by saying she thought Fleur was arrogant and snooty but Harry just got the feeling she didn’t like Fleur for “taking away” her favourite brother. He tried to tell her that she just hadn’t gotten to know Fleur well enough, and he encouraged her to sit down with the French witch and get to know her better. She had not given a definitive answer to whether she would, but Harry had good hope she’d be a bit more open-minded towards Fleur.

The week after Ginny’s birthday had been a weird day at the Burrow. First of all, it was Percy’s birthday, which meant that Mrs Weasley had looked sad most of the day, while Mr Weasley looked slightly angry. In hushed whispers between Harry, Ron, and Ginny they had come up with some creative insults for the black sheep of the Weasley family. The other reason it had been a weird day was that Ginny had broken her promise to Harry, sort of, by pranking him, probably do as a means to distract everyone from the fact that it was Percy’s birthday.

It had started with her suggesting a dip in the pond after they had been playing Quidditch again. They had been playing Quidditch a lot. They had even started drawing up training schedules and discussing possible team members. As Harry had only ever needed to catch the snitch, which didn’t involve the same kind of strategy that Chasing or Beating did, Ron and Ginny had given Harry a crash course in Quidditch strategy. As captain, he would have to have a better grasp on chaser and beater tactics. Of course, he had picked up a basic understanding from Angelina and Wood, but he could always improve. After they had cooled off in the pond, Ginny had managed to ensure that Ron was the first to shower, and she was second.

Ginny’s prank began when Harry’s washed his hair with the shampoo that all the male Weasleys used. First, he had noticed that the shampoo smelled funny but he hadn’t thought anything of it. This had proved to be a big mistake as only a minute or so later, he felt something tickling his upper back. He had tried to slap whatever it was away only to find that it had been his hair, which had grown to touch his shoulders in the time it took him to wash it.

Having accepted he’d been pranked, he finished his shower chuckling, but after he had used a towel to try to dry his hair, he’d been bemused to find it had returned to its normal, messy state and length.

Coming into the kitchen, he had found a welcoming committee of Ron, Ginny and the Twins all waiting for him with big grins on their faces. Their smiles slipped off when they saw his hair looked normal. Harry self-consciously scratched the top of his head, they were staring at him after all,  messing up his hair even more.

“Well, well, well, brother of mine,” George said, shaking his head, “It looks like we have come for a show that won’t be happening!”

“Indeed, brother of mine,” Fred agreed. “It seems our dear sister still has lots to learn!”

“Now the question remains, who is at fault?” the twins asked at the same time.

As it turned out, Ginny had used an experimental hair growth potion that the Twins were developing to spike the shampoo Harry had used.

She grinned evilly when she reminded Harry she had only promised to not use the items she had made him get, and that this wasn’t one of them. As the Twins and Ginny were blaming each other, Ron had asked Harry whether it had worked at all. Harry explained it had, but only for a short time.

When Fred & George wondered how that happened, Ron had turned thoughtful, an expression that had led to immediate jokes from them (Don’t pull your face like that, it might get stuck!). Ignoring his older brothers, he had asked one simple question.

“When is the last time you had a haircut?”

Harry had laughed at first, but as he tried to remember the last one, he was shocked to realize it had been more than four years! He remembered how his hair had grown overnight that time Aunt Petunia had given him that horrendous haircut, but this was the complete opposite. The mystery of Harry’s hair had not been solved until a couple of days later when Remus returned for the last time that summer.

Apparently, the fact that the Potter-hair had been inherited down the generations was because centuries ago someone cursed the family to always have this unruly, messy mop of hair. Fleamont Potter’s invention of Sleekeazy had been a last-ditch effort to do something about it, as it had proven impossible to lift the curse.

According to Remus, the curse kicked in fully somewhere during early puberty, which explained why Harry remembered having haircuts when he was still living at Privet Drive. Remus had also theorized that prior to puberty, the curse probably sped up his hair growth.

That night, Harry had joked to Ron that his newly realized hair-stasis powers might be “the power Voldemort knows not”, but Ron hadn’t thought the joke was very funny.

The day after had been the last day that Remus was at the Burrow. It was time for him to contact the Werewolf packs, which meant he wouldn’t be able to write Harry. They had hugged goodbye, with Remus promising Harry he would be there for the holidays. After he had left Harry had asked Ginny whether she knew if, or what was going on between Remus and Tonks. She’d said she thought Tonks fancied Remus, but she didn’t know for sure if that feeling was mutual. Tonks had come around to Burrow a few times, which Harry had interpreted as Mrs Weasley trying to hitch her to Bill but maybe it was about Remus after all. Not his business, anyway, he decided.

Harry and Ron had also begun reading the Animagus books, but a lot of the theory went over their heads. It had become very clear, very quickly that Ginny had been right. It would be very, very difficult to accomplish it. Five days after Ginny’s birthday, Harry had summoned Kreacher to ask whether he was done his task.

He had been done for almost two days, but because Harry hadn’t specifically told him to come to him when he was done, Kreacher had just returned to Hogwarts. Harry didn’t know what he would do about Kreacher. He didn’t trust him, and Kreacher didn’t like working for him, something he was still vocal about, albeit decreasingly so. At least, Kreacher had managed to make Potter House elf-proof, as Dobby had been unable to go back there. Having discussed it some more with the wary elves, he had decided to not allow Dobby access. While they couldn’t outright say anything, Harry understood that the wards Kreacher had set up only allowed house-elves through that were bonded to Harry, in this case only Kreacher. Though Harry suspected Dobby would give up his freedom to bond himself with Harry, Harry didn’t want to ask that of the Elf. He could not in good conscience enslave another house-elf. He had been secretary for S.P.E.W. after all, if only in name.

The week before they went back to Hogwarts, Ginny had approached Harry in his position as Quidditch Captain to present her idea for a full Gryffindor reserve team. There were two major advantages to her plan, she explained.

First, as Harry had embodied himself multiple times: you could never be certain all players would be available for all three matches, so it made sense to have a trained backup. Also, she thought it was incredibly stupid that Quidditch players in Hogwarts only got to play three games a year. That made the jump to the professional teams that much harder, as they had to play 24 games in a year! So, Ginny reasoned, a reserve team would allow each Gryffindor player to play more games, as they could play a full game against the reserves every week. This is how the professional teams trained in the offseason after all. Harry had agreed with her immediately and when they told Ron, he was also on board.

--In Her Memory--

Harry stood on the train platform, eyeing the scarlet steam engine with trepidation. He had just been frogmarched through the barrier by a sour-looking Auror. No cheery Hagrid as protection detail today. Their departure that morning had been smooth. The only blemish was when Ginny had stuck out her foot to try to trip him up after Fleur had kissed him on the cheek. Having been tripped up on the daily back in primary school, he had enough experience to save himself. Any annoyance he may have felt towards Ginny had washed away at seeing her trying her best not to laugh out loud. He had just laughed himself.

“You okay, mate?” Ron inquired grimly from behind him on the platform. Harry nodded. They both thought the same. This year was going to be hard.

They said their goodbyes to Mr and Mrs Weasley, who told Harry that he’d been spending Christmas at the Burrow, as would Remus. As they entered the train, the second painful moment of the day presented itself: Ron had to go to the prefects meeting.

Without Hermione.

Ever since Ron had confessed that he had thought of Hermione in a different way than Harry had, he had known Prefect duty would be hard on Ron. He swore to himself to keep an eye on his now only best friend. He was pulled from his contemplation as he suddenly felt danger encroach him. He blinked and looked around: a few girls were staring at him. They seemed to be mostly fourth years if he guessed correctly. Before he could say anything, Ginny made his way over to him. “Let’s go find an empty compartment.” Harry gladly led the way, not seeing the glares the other girls shoot Ginny, nor the way Ginny glared back.

As Harry made his way into a train compartment, carrying both Ginny’s and his trunks while Ginny carried Crookshanks, the first wave of memories came unto him. As he sat down he could see Hermione opening up the doors to ask them whether anyone had seen Trevor, as clear as if it had happened yesterday. He grimaced slightly at the other memories that threatened to overwhelm him. If only he had tried harder with practising occlumency, then he would have been able to hide these thoughts from himself. He snorted in self-contempt. If he had practised more, then Sirius and Hermione would still be alive, and these memories would only be happy ones to reminisce on.

“You all right, Harry? You look funny,” said Neville Longbottom, whose entrance into the compartment he had missed completely. Harry started and looked up at the boy, while Luna entered the compartment also.  

She looked at Harry sympathetically, “Bad case of Furry Nesters, Harry?” she asked. “That makes sense, I assume they will be swarming the school for the next couple of days.” Harry had to a double-take when noticing the enormous coloured spectacles Luna was wearing.

“Furry Nesters?” Neville questioned.

Luna nodded solemnly. “They are minuscule creatures that are attracted to blue places. However, contrary to Nargles, you shouldn’t chase them away, as they can transform into Hornless Snorkacks over time.” As always, she said this in a manner that left no doubt on whether she believed herself.

Harry couldn’t quite follow what she was saying but shared a smile with Ginny, while the train left the station.

He was soon distracted from his memories by a disturbance outside of their compartment door; the same group of girls that had been staring at him were whispering and giggling while looking into the compartment.

Ginny huffed and stood up. “Just a second,” she said and walked out of their compartment pulling her wand. Neville and Harry looked at each other, while Luna had grabbed the latest edition of the Quibbler, obviously not concerned with what was going on.

“What’s going on?” Neville questioned, as the whispering in the corridor increased in volume. Harry, now having more experience with her temper, saw the warning signs in how Ginny clenched her jaw. She was listening to a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin and long black hair, who seemed to be trying, and failing, to argue a point.

As the discussion continued, the voices rose to the point Harry, Neville and Luna could hear them clearly.

“…friends? Do you honestly expect me to believe Harry Potter is friends with Loony Lovegood? And don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Weasley! You finally see your chance with him, don’t you? Now that that Granger girl is out the way and –“

Anger blossomed in Harry’s entire being. He sprung up to confront the black-haired girl but before he could make his way outside, Ginny had pulled out her wand, aimed it right in the face of the girl, made a complicated wand movement and screamed Volamucus. A flash in a khaki colour and a loud BANG followed, and, being hit in the face from such close range, the girl that raised both Ginny’s and Harry’s ire, flew back and knocked over her friends.

“You bitch!” one of them screamed, as they looked in horror while large blobs of mucus started flapping around the girl’s face. Unsurprisingly, considering the shrieks of the girls as they tried to get rid of the bats, it didn’t take long for a person of authority to show up.

Slughorn waddled into view of the compartment, and Harry quickly opened the door. “Hello, Professor!”

“Harry, m’boy! Good to see you! How are you?” said Slughorn with a sort of youthful exuberance, quite unbefitting a man of his stature.

“I’m doing fine, Professor, how are you?” Harry asked cautiously but outwardly friendly. He hadn’t liked the man on his first meeting, but Dumbledore said he was important, and Harry wanted to protect Ginny from detention as much as possible.

“Quite well, m’boy,” the professor answered easily. “Now, what do we have here,” he said looking at the girl on the floor still being attacked by flapping bats, surrounded by her three friends. Slughorn waved his wand and the bats disappeared. He looked around, “Would anyone be so kind to explain what has happened here?”

Before Ginny could say anything, one of the other girls, quick on the uptake that this unknown man was a new professor, exclaimed “Weasley attacked Romilda, sir!”, pointing at Ginny. Ginny looked completely unrepentant.

“Weasley?” Slughorn asked, interestedly. “Daughter to Arthur Weasley, Head of that new department within the DMLE?”

“Yes, sir,” Ginny answered unperturbed and unsurprised. Harry had told both Ginny and Ron what kind of person Slughorn seemed to be.

“And did you cast that spell on Miss…?” he trailed off, looking at the girl Ginny had hexed askingly.

“Romilda Vane, professor, and yes she did attack me, unprovoked!” the girl said, rubbing her nose.

Slughorn turned to Ginny. “What did you hex Miss Vane with, Miss Weasley?”

“It was a Bat-Bogey Hex, sir.”

“Oh-oh!” Slughorn said, “A spell created by Miranda Goshawk herself! But it does not appear in her Standard Spells book series if I’m correct. Wherever did you learn it?”

“My brother Bill taught me, he learned it from a colleague in the Curse-Breakers division of Gringotts, Sir,” Ginny said, sneaking a confused glance at Harry.

“Marvelous!” Slughorn exclaimed. “Excellent casting, Miss Weasley!” He turned to look at Romilda and her friends. “Well, no harm no foul, I say! I suggest you return to your carriage before someone steals your seat!” the professor said good-humouredly. The absolute fury on Romilda’s face, as she turned to leave, promised nothing good.

Slughorn turned towards Harry again. “Now, Harry, m’boy, I was hoping to run into you. You see, I wanted to invite you to join me for a bite of lunch, in compartment C!” He turned to Ginny, “And Miss Weasley, I’d be delighted if you would join as well!”

“Er… sure,” Harry said. Ginny nodded her agreement as well.

“Great! Now, if you perchance run into Neville Longbottom, would you pass on that invitation?”

“That won’t be a problem, sir,” Harry said, opening the door of their compartment further. He turned and gestured to Neville, “he’s right here”

When Neville stood up to shake hands with Slughorn, Harry noticed that the summer had been good for his dorm mate. He had seemingly lost a lot of weight and gained some muscle. While his face was still round, he now had a visible jawline and he looked more comfortable in his skin. Harry wondered what he had been doing that summer.

As Slughorn and Neville finished their small talk, Neville said he wasn’t sure if he’d make it to the luncheon. “It depends on whether our other friend Ron, Ginny’s brother, will be here to keep Luna company,” he said by way of explanation, nodding towards Luna who was still engrossed in the new edition of the Quibbler.

As he said this, Luna lowered the magazine a bit so she could peer over the top. “oh!”, she said in surprise, apparently having first missed all the commotion and subsequently the fact that there was a professor in the compartment.

Slughorn chuckled jovially. “Interesting article, my dear?”

“Oh, yes!” Luna said happily, “That’s why I wrote it! It’s about the best ways to fish for blimpies!”

“You write for The Quibbler? What did you say your last name was?” Slughorn asked.

“Lovegood, sir. My father’s the editor.”

“Ah yes, Xenophilius Lovegood,” Slughorn said, “An… interesting man. Just like your mother Pandora! She had one of the most inquisitive, creative and curious minds I have ever seen, always changing up potion recipes and tinkering with spell designs!” 

“Yes, we were very sad when she died,” Luna agreed quite bluntly, smiling dreamily towards the man while still wearing her enormous coloured glasses.

A moment of silence. Harry might not particularly like Slughorn yet, but he felt a fond sort of sympathy for anyone meeting Luna for the first time. She was one of a kind.

“Well, then,” Slughorn said, breaking the awkward silence. “Mr Longbottom, if I don’t see you for lunch, please feel free to drop by my office anytime, since you’re not taking potion class! Miss Weasley, Harry, I hope to see you –“ he glanced at his expensive-looking watch “- in about 2,5 hours in compartment C!”

With that, the man left the compartment.

“Quite interesting man, he is,” said Luna. “I’m not sure I like him,” she concluded baldly.

“You’ve met him before, Harry?” Neville asked.

So, Harry told Neville and Luna about his first meeting with the new Professor. Afterwards, the conversation drifted from topic to topic. Harry was glad to hear that Neville agreed with the others and that he didn’t blame Harry himself for what happened. Neville also proudly presented his new wand.

Neville was telling them what he’d been up to that summer. Apart from Herbology experiments in his greenhouse, he had spent time with his cousins from his mother’s side of the family. They had introduced him to muggle fitness magazines and he had taken up weight training and jogging. Ginny complimented him on his progress so far, whereas Luna just seemed to study him, making Neville embarrassed from all the attention.

Luna suddenly turned toward Harry. “Are we still doing DA meetings this year, Harry? I really enjoyed them, it was like having friends,” she said with that unnerving mix of brutal honesty, social ineptitude, and her dreamy voice. Last year, it had always made Harry feel pity as well as embarrassment. But now he only felt anger at the fact that she thought she didn’t have any friends.

Ginny clearly agreed. “Luna, we’ve been friends for over ten years now, how can you think you don’t have any friends?” she asked with well-trained patience.

“Yes, we have been friends for a long time, haven’t we?” Luna answered happily.

A beat of silence.

“So, why did you say you don’t have any friends?” Ginny tried again.

“I meant that I don’t think I have friends. I have a friend, which is you, Ginny.” She said, clearly not understanding the confusion.

They all got it at the same time, after a couple of seconds. Singular versus plural.

Harry looked earnestly at Luna. “You don’t consider us friends?”

“Well, we’ve never said out loud that we are, and it is my understanding that relations work best when they are openly defined by all people involved,” she answered like she thought everyone knew this.

Oh. That sounded surprisingly like something Lavender had once loudly recited from a Teen Witch magazine in the Gryffindor common room, Harry realized.

“Luna, we are friends,” Harry stated with as much formality as he could muster.

“Yeah, Luna, of course, we are friends,” Neville added.

“See, you do have friends,” Ginny added, emphasizing the ‘s’.

“I do now!” Luna said, a bright smile lighting up her face and eyes. Harry didn’t think he had ever seen her so happy.

“Ron is also your friend, and Hermione was as well,” Harry stated, wanting to keep that happiness on Luna’s face, but forgetting the fact that mentioning Hermione might do the exact opposite.

Neville gulped, Ginny glanced away, and Luna looked at Harry for a moment. “The Furry Nesters are back,” she said softly. She hid her face behind her Quibbler.

Silence reigned until Ron came back from the Prefect meeting.

“Hullo,” he greeted them all. ‘Hellos’ greeted him back.

“How was the meeting? Who are the prefects for our year, Ron?” Ginny asked.

“The Gryffindors are Julia,” Ron said in a questioning voice, he clearly had no idea who she was, “and Andrew, from the quidditch team last year.”

“Fair,” Ginny said, nodding.

Ron turned toward Luna. “The ‘Claws are some guy named Edward and a girl named Alison.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed at the girl’s name. Harry gathered she wasn’t a fan, which probably meant the girl had been mean to Luna. He should keep an eye on that, he thought to himself.

“The Slytherins are Shane  (‘Harper? He’s an idiot!’ Ginny interjected) and a girl called Signal, or something?”

“Signe,” Ginny corrected, “it comes from Sigr, which is Old Norse for victory.” She met the scowl she received from Ron, “What? Her family is from Norway,” she added.

“She’s pretty and nice,” Luna said with a smile.

Harry, Ron, and Neville looked at each other. They had not yet met a Slytherin they would describe as “nice”.

Ron cleared his throat. “Oh and erm… Parvati is also Prefect.”

Right, Harry thought. Someone had to replace Hermione, of course. Just more reminders that she’s gone. He sighed.

A minute or so later, Ginny stood up. “I promised Dean I would join him on the train for an hour or two, and considering we’re having lunch with Slughorn, I’d better go see him. Luna, can you keep an eye on Crookshanks? Thanks!”

With that, she left the compartment.

Ron grumbled something about Ginny being too young to date, while Neville and Harry hid their snickers. Harry explained about Slughorn to distract Ron from his overprotectiveness.

As the train passed through the midlands, Neville brought up the DA again. Harry was glad to see that Neville treated him like he always did, even a bit more openly friendly. So he shouldn’t have worried about whether Neville was angry at him.

“Ron and I are planning on it, yeah. We were thinking about expanding the stuff we learn, maybe get some help from the teachers.”

“What kind of stuff are you thinking about?” Neville asked, interestedly.

“Well, Healing is a big one,” Ron said, “with how many accidents Harry has, it’s stupid we never really looked into it, you know.”

Harry shook his head in denial, while Neville laughed. Luna just looked amused, shooting glances over her Quibbler.

“And teachers?” Neville continued.

“Well, Pomfrey for one. And I think Flitwick used to be a duel champion, so he could give us some tricks,” Harry explained.

“And that Slughorn guy? Makes sense to ask the Defence professor right?”

“He’s teaching potions, remember?” Harry grumbled.

“Snape’s teaching Defence this year, mate,” Ron said, his expression making it clear what he thought of that.

Neville groaned. “Bugger. I just realized that, yeah, just when I thought I was well shot of the bastard,” he groaned.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to give such an important position to such a bad teacher. That’s like trusting a Blumdinger with a Flobberworm,” Luna said, making herself laugh.

“Though I wonder how he will teach, I can’t say I have experienced him teaching all that often,” Luna continued after having calmed down.

“Don’t you take Potions?” Ron asked.

“Of course I do, Ronald,” she said, now staring unblinkingly at the redhead, “but I don’t think copying instruction on a blackboard and subsequently trying to intimidate the students, should be considered teaching.”

‘That’s a fair point’, Harry thought. ‘I wonder how he’ll be in Defence’.

“Anyway,” Harry said, “I won’t be asking Snape to help us with the DA, but we were thinking of asking an Auror, probably Tonks or Mad-Eye, to maybe give some lessons.”

“Tonks is the one that fancies Professor Lupin, right?” Luna asked from behind her Quibbler.

“Wait, what?” Ron asked bewildered. Harry couldn’t blame him, if not for Ginny he wouldn’t have had a clue either.

“Apparently. That’s what Ginny said anyway,” Harry told Ron.

“She didn’t look very happy, the times we saw her,” Ron noted.

“Maybe Professor Lupin doesn’t like her back?” Neville suggested.

Harry shrugged, “Not sure, I didn’t talk with him about it.”

“Did you see him a lot during the summer?” asked Neville questioningly.

“Yeah, he and Harry both spend almost all summer at our house,” Ron answered.

“I think I’m missing something, why would Professor Lupin stay with you?” Neville asked.

Then, it hit Harry that Neville probably didn’t know about the Marauders and the story with Sirius. He hadn’t known Sirius was his godfather, after all.

So he told him.

--In Her Memory--

When Harry walked into the Great Hall, he expected Luna to leave them for the Ravenclaw table but to his surprise, she simply sat down at the Gryffindor one. Come to think of it, he thought, is that actually a rule? Or is it just never really done?

It was the first time Harry sat down for the Start-of-Term Feast that he wasn’t hungry. Slughorn's expansive lunch had made sure of that. Harry had not felt at home in that collection of people but luckily, Neville and Ginny had been there.

As he looked throughout the Great Hall, he noticed a lot of people quickly averting their gaze. People had been watching him, as they had been on the train. Apparently, when Harry was at the Slughorn Lunch, people had kept coming into the compartment to ask Ron and Luna, about Harry. Most people had a somewhat clear idea of what happened in the Department of Mysteries, considering the Headmaster had had to tell them something when announcing Hermione’s passing. But, everybody also knew there was more to the story. This had been one of the reasons why Slughorn had invited him to the Lunch, besides being the Boy-Who-Lived, of course.

As McGonagall walked into the hall with her gaggle of anxious-looking first years, Harry thought back to the three sorting ceremonies he had attended. He missed both Ginny’s sorting and the one the year after, and he hadn’t been the most attentive during his own. He wondered what the Sorting Hat would say, just as McGonagall put it on the stool.

An expecting silence fell over the Great Hall. Would the Hat offer motivation? Would it warn people about the war? A feeling of dread bloomed in Harry’s stomach. Would he mention Hermione? The hat came to life and began the Sorting Song.

Welcome, young and old, to Hogwarts,

where we all try to expand our brain!

To sort you where you can do so,

Is my job, from all else I should abstain.

But when friends fight with friends as well as foes,

As they do in times of war and upheaval,

I feel pressured to also tell you,

Where you can find true evil.

Is it the house of Hufflepuff,

Where hard-working folk in yellow and black stand strong.

Back to back with their loyal friends,

what would they do when a friend goes wrong?

What about those dressed in blue and bronze,

Seeking wit and knowledge beyond measure?

Ravenclaws dream of understanding the world,

But to what extremes will they go to find this treasure?

Gryffindor, where dwell those brave of heart,

These warriors in gold are not afraid of strife.

Seeking glory and heroics in brave and noble manner

but just remember: crimson is the fluid of life.

But surely evil is the house of silver and green,

These cunning snakes only care about their own.

Ambitiously seeking power they may be,

But without them, few great leaders we would’ve known!

So listen closely to my song,

now is the time to stand united.

Variety is the flavour of life,

Over it, we shouldn’t be divided!

No single house can be described as evil,

It would have been abolished long before this year.

Different people appreciate different virtues,

Keeping them in balance is why I’m here!

All virtues in their extremes can be vices,

and every vice tempered can be a virtue.

The house in which you will feel most at home,

Is the one to which I’ll spur you!

The hat stilled and immediately murmurs started up. This message was very different from the one the hat had given in Harry’s first year. He also couldn’t help but wonder whether the Hat had meant him when he alluded to the fact that brave warriors were made with blood.

The murmurs faded away as the sorting started. After a girl named Autumn Andrews was the first to be sorted (Hufflepuff!), Neville said: “Small class this year.”

Harry looked at him in surprise, and while looking back at the new first years, he said “Small? Seems like a normal number of first-years to me? About the same size as our year.”

“Our year isn’t a normal-sized year, mate,” Neville said.

“It isn’t?” asked Harry.

“Haven’t you ever noticed?” Luna said, while not looking at Harry or Neville, which meant that it took a second for them to realize she was contributing to their discussion. “Your and my year, and the current seventh year, are relatively small, compared to the next two years. My father suspects the Great Nargle and Hornless Snorkack Invasion of Britain of late 1981 and early 1982 has something to do with it.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Neville shook his head, “I have noticed our years are smaller in size but I’m not sure why. Aside from Luna’s dad’s explanation, that is,” he hastily added when Luna opened her mouth.

They quickly shut up when professor McGonagall coughed and shot them an annoyed look.

The sorting continued in the normal fashion until a kid called Harry Lambert was sorted into Gryffindor. Ginny leaned across the table to tease Harry.

“Hey, Potter, I bet this Lambert kid is the little brother of James, he’s in Gryffindor as well!”

“What do you mean?” Harry whispered back.

“Isn’t it obvious they were named after you and your dad?” Ginny whispered with a big, evil grin.

Harry groaned. He really, really, hoped that that wasn’t the case, but it probably was. Neville and Ron snickered. Luna seemed to have missed the entire conversation.

After the sorting was done, and Dumbledore gave his typical very short message (Tuck in!) the feast began.

Neville began wondering about the difference in year sizes again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ginny asked from her seat next to Dean. “I’ll give you a hint. The 7^th, 6^th and 5^th years are all dominated in size by Slytherin and Gryffindor.”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Luna nodded. This didn’t help Harry, nor did it seem to help Ron, Neville, Dean or Seamus. To his chagrin, he kept waiting for Hermione to butt in and explain.

From the left side, he heard Lavender giggle. “What she means, boys, is that there was a so-called baby-boom between July 1982 and 1983.”

Parvati and Lavender giggled at that, while Ginny just smirked. “Yeah, I guess they had something to celebrate.”

“You mean people celebrated with sex?” Luna asked of Lavender, who immediately went into another giggle fit. Luna looked at her and Parvati in that way she had, looking curious about something she did not understand but also missing why her blunt question had set people off. Harry hid a smile, while Dean was trying to save Seamus from choking on a chicken wing. Ron seemed focused solely on the food.

“Yes, Luna,” Ginny confirmed, “That’s why the years after us are much larger than ours, lots of kids being born in those two years.” Ginny had told Harry during the summer that Luna liked being told things very directly. Luna herself was always either very direct and blunt or incredibly vague and accidentally cryptic.

Luna just nodded. “That is also a symptom of a Nargles and Hornless Snorkack invasion, you know.”

“But the Gryffindor groups of that year aren’t much bigger than ours right?” Harry questioned.

“No, the difference is mostly visible in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,” Ginny said, “Just look at Luna, there are just two other girls in her year. But the fourth and third year Ravenclaws of this year are almost double in size from our years.”

“How come this baby boom mostly resulted in Puffs and Claws?” Dean asked his girlfriend.

It was Lavender who answered. “Because House placement is very dependent on upbringing. Gryffindor parents rear Gryffindor children, generally speaking. The same is true for the other houses.”

“While my mum didn’t go to Hogwarts, she would probably have been a Gryffindor, while my dad was a Ravenclaw, which explains why Padma and I are in different houses, even being twins,” Parvati added.

“Slytherins had nothing to fear during the war, and we Gryffindors don’t care if there’s a war going on,” Ginny said, “which is why mostly Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had smaller years.”

“That’s right,” Lavender agreed.

The conversation continued about the different stories Harry’s housemates’ parents (and Luna’s) had told them about the festivities surrounding the end of the previous war. 

While Harry could understand why people would want to celebrate the fall of Voldemort with their loved ones,  it also just reminded him about the prophecy and his parents. He just listened to the ensuing talk and quietly ate his dinner. He thought it was kind of morbid to think about celebrating a victory when he wasn’t sure at all whether he’d be there to celebrate with them or whether they’d be one at all.

When they were all sated and tired from the conversation and food, Dumbledore finally stood up for his begin-of-term speech.

“Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” he said, grandly spreading his arm as if to hug the whole student body. Unfortunately, this had the side effect of putting his blackened hand in the spotlight and Harry could hear whispers and gasps sprout immediately.

Dumbledore noticed also, as he shook his robe sleeve over his hand and said it was nothing to worry about. This didn’t assuage the rampant rumour mongering now going on along the tables. Harry furrowed his brow, he had expected it to have been healed by now. Perhaps it was more serious than he’d imagined.

Dumbledore continued unwaveringly. “I’d like to give a few start-of-term notices. First, as all our returning students know, some staircases move according to which day it is. Our caretaker, Mr Filch, informs me that approximately half of these staircases have decided to change their schedules over summer break. We have not yet found a reason why this is the case. Secondly, Mr Flich also informs that there is a blanket ban on all Weasley Wizard Wheezes products – “

Harry, Ron, and Ginny looked at each other and snickered.

“- thirdly, I’d like to welcome, yet again, a new member of staff this year. Please welcome, my old colleague and friend, Professor Slughorn, who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.”

This certainly piqued the interest of some of the more quickly-witted students.

“Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Dumbledore continued, over an increasingly loud discontent chatter from three of the four house tables and cheers from the other one.

Snape stood up and nodded his head to the Slytherin table and gave a sardonic wave to the other three houses.

Dumbledore cleared his throat again. “This also has ramifications for our NEWT students, as Professor Slughorn will accept students that have achieved an Exceeds Expectation on their Potions OWLs. Please contact your Head of House if you wish to partake in these classes if you haven’t already communicated this desire previously.”

“Now,” the Headmaster said, immediately silencing all the murmurs, “as you all know, for certain this year, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength. I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the current situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s wards have been strengthened, and we will be playing host to several Aurors throughout the year. However, the staff and the Aurors cannot watch every part of this great castle at all times. If you see something, please tell the nearest person in an authoritative position, be they Professor or Prefect or Auror, even the Ghosts will be on high alert. If you see something, please say something. If you have thought of a way to infiltrate this castle please tell us so we can defend against it. I will not leave it unsaid that we will do everything, everything, we can think of to make this castle as safe as possible. However, due to the nature of magic, one can never be safe enough. In this context, I will also hereby announce that this year we will practise evacuation drills. The Heads of Houses will meet with the Prefects this week, and together they will explain the plans to all of you. Let me be very clear. Any student found not taking these drills seriously will be punished harshly, with immediate expulsion being the highest form of punishment for those who are found to have been actively undermining these drills.”

He was silent for a moment. “I am quite certain I do not have to remind you we have lost two of our own in the last two years.” The Headmaster’s blue eyes, twinkling in a sad rather than joyous manner, swept over the student body like he was scanning people’s reactions to that statement. Then he smiled.

“But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us, therefore, say goodnight!”

Chapter Text

The screeching sound of the entire student body standing up at the same time filled the Great Hall. As Harry stood up himself, Parvati asked Ron if it was right they didn’t have any prefect duties at that time, which Ron confirmed. It was the new prefects who would take care of the first years.

When Harry and Ron walked out of the Great Hall, the first of what would probably be many confrontations with Malfoy took place.

“Hey, Scarhead!” a voice drawled from behind them. Ron and Harry both stopped in their tracks. Harry turned around slowly, from the corner of his eye he could see Ron’s jaw tense. They glared at the blonde boy, as always flanked by both Crabbe and Goyle.

“Malfoy,” Harry answered, trying to put as much disgust as he could into voicing the two syllables.

The boy smirked nastily. “I see you decided to ditch-“

“Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter.” a soft but powerful voice said warningly from within the Great Hall. Malfoy turned around, and Harry could see the Headmaster walking up to the five of them. Harry didn’t think he had ever seen Dumbledore interfere in squabbles like this.

As the powerful wizard came closer, Harry could see something shift in Malfoy’s eyes and stance, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Apprehension? Disgust? Repugnance? In any case, Malfoy did not seem to like being in the Headmaster's presence, even more so than normally.

“Ah, Harry! I was hoping to speak to you tonight, would you care to join me in my office?” He then turned to Malfoy. “And Mr Malfoy, don’t you have more important business to attend to, rather than standing here?”

At these words, Malfoy, incredibly, turned even paler, before he regained his composure and walked away quickly.

Harry breathed in deeply, trying to control the absolute fury that had made itself home in him at what he suspected Malfoy was going to say. Before he could say anything to Ron, his friend whispered the words Harry was thinking himself. “If that arsehole makes only a single comment about Hermione, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Harry looked his friend in the eyes, and they both knew it was true. They were not going to take any shit from Draco-fucking-Malfoy this year.

“Harry?” Professor Dumbledore questioned.

“Oh yes, I’m sorry, Professor,” Harry said embarrassedly. “I’ll see you in a bit, let’s play a game of chess, yeah?” he told Ron.

When Harry walked into the Headmaster’s office, he was surprised at the fact that there was no trace left of the devastation he had left behind. Dumbledore, omniscient as always, chuckled. From the glares Harry got from some of the portraits, Harry gathered that not everyone had forgiven him for the trashing. He sat in the chair.

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Harry. How has the rest of your summer been?” the Headmaster asked in his friendly manner.

“It was good, sir. How was your summer?”

“Incredibly enlightening yet confrontational,” he waved with his good hand to his blackened one, “It seems age is finally getting to me.” He looked sombre for a moment before he regrouped. “Have you been back to Potter Manor?” he asked curiously.

“I haven’t. I had Dobby go there to search for some books I thought might be in the library there,” Harry explained. Then he remembered: “Oh, that reminds me, I also had Kreacher ward the house against other house-elves. Now only elves bonded to me can go there. Apparently, the Fidelius doesn’t stop House Elves?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Dumbledore looked thoughtful, “I’m afraid I am not well versed in House-Elf magic. They can be very secretive when it comes to their ways. In fact, almost no research has been done on their magic. But you are correct, Dobby did manage to apparate into it after we completed the Fidelius. Good thinking, Harry!” he complimented. Harry smiled at the compliment.

“Now, to business,” the elderly wizard said. “I heard you had lunch with Horace?”

“Yes. I didn’t particularly enjoy the company, but you said I should let him ‘collect’ me, so I went anyway,” Harry said honestly.

“Indeed, I did. The reason for which segues nicely. First of all, as I have told you before, it is my wish that you have private lessons with me. I am aware of your captaincy for the Griffindor team, congratulations for which, so we’ll have to schedule these lessons together. However, for the most important lesson, I would like a meeting for next Saturday evening.”

“That’s okay with me,” Harry answered.

“Magnificent,” the Headmaster smiled. “Now, as I understand, you’ll be using ´Advanced Potion-making’ as a textbook for Potions class, correct?” At Harry’s confirmation, the Professor opened up a drawer and pulled out a copy of the book, clearly an old one.

Harry accepted the book and opened it to find the book was full of notes, written in the margins in a very small and fine script. There were annotations in the margins like, “just use a bezoar” under a potion recipe for a general antidote, but also additional tips on certain recipes.

He looked up questioningly. “You want me to use this book? Why?”

“The book was released over 50 years ago, and potion-making has made immense strides since then. You’ll find that the annotations in this book will work better than the original recipes.”

Harry frowned. “You’re giving me an unfair advantage over my classmates,” he stated.

“I am, I cannot deny that. However, think for a moment the effect it will have on your teacher if you were to be the best in the class,” the Headmaster responded.

“Aha,” Harry said, getting what Dumbledore was getting at, “If I use this book, I’ll build a better relationship with Slughorn. Why is that so important?” he questioned.

“That will be revealed next weekend, it would take too long a time to explain right now,” the headmaster told him. Harry was increasingly curious, but it seems he would have to wait longer.

“Now, before you challenge Mr Weasley to a game of chess, I’m curious. Have you read the book I gifted you?”

Harry smiled embarrassedly. Reading that book was low on his list of priorities. “I haven’t yet, sir, but I did bring it to school with me. Is it important I read it?”

“Not as important as what we discussed previously no, but still I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Harry promised he would read The Tales of Beedle the Bards at some point and they said goodbye, Harry carrying the old copy of his textbook with him.

--In Her Memory--

When Harry walked up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, he realized that he didn’t know the password. As he stood wondering what to do, the portrait opened and Ginny and Dean exited the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Hey, do you know what the password is?” he asked, wondering why the two were leaving the common room.

“It’s ‘nobilis unitas’ for the next week,” Ginny answered as Dean and her walked past. They didn’t stop and made their way around the corner before Harry realized he was just standing there and entered the common room instead.

As he entered the common room, most of the conversation stopped, as people looked at Harry. He frowned, not knowing why. He saw Ron sitting with Seamus, so he made his way over there.

“Chess?” he asked of Ron, by way of greeting.

Ron shrugged, “yeah, sure, but I think Lavender wanted to talk with you or something, she asked after you.” He looked behind Harry, to where Lavender, Parvati, Lily and Sophia were talking.

“You think…” Ron began, but he trailed off.

“Probably,” Harry confirmed. If Lavender wanted to talk with him and she was waiting with all of Hermione’s ex-dormmates then he could guess what she wanted to talk about.

Seamus spoke up in a whisper. “I brought a bottle of firewhiskey, I wanted to drink a toast to start the new year, we should invite the girls.” he proposed.

“All the Gryffindor 6^th years,” Ron sighed in a sad voice, “Good idea, Seamus. Where are Neville and Dean?” he questioned, looking around the common room.

“Neville’s upstairs already,” Seamus said.

“I saw Dean leaving the common room with…” Harry trailed off. He had just realized that Ginny and Dean had probably left the common room to find some privacy. 

“With who?” Ron asked while Seamus looked torn between dissuading Harry from saying “Ginny” and wanting to see how Ron would react.

Luckily for Harry, Ron seemed to fill in the gaps on his own, judging by his scowl. “In that case, I’m not waiting for him,” he muttered and he stood up and made his way to the boys’ dorm. Harry and Seamus looked at each other and Seamus snickered, “You get the girls, I’ll get the whiskey!” he told Harry before he stood up and followed Ron.

Harry walked over to the girls. “Hey, Lavender, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Oh, hi, Harry,” Lavender said, while Lily and Sophie greeted him as well. Parvati looked uneasy, Harry imagined she might be feeling guilty for being a prefect now. “It’s just… well, you know, we –“ she indicated the four girls “- were thinking of doing something to remember Her-Hermione,” Lavender continued through a sniffle.

“That would be nice,” Harry said softly, “Seamus invited you all to our dorm room, he proposed a toast to usher in the new year. We can talk about it after?” he offered.

Lavender and Parvati immediately accepted. Lily looked unsure, Sophie was watching the other girl. Remember what Ginny had told him over the summer, he took a good look at the two girls he hadn’t had much contact with.

Lily Moon was a short, blond girl with pale skin. She would have reminded Harry of Tinkerbell, had she not worn a nose piercing in her right nostril and something Harry thought was called a choker. He had heard Petunia ranting about ‘the youth of today and their fashion accessories’ when he spent that week at the Dursleys’. Sophie Roper was quite tall but had an athletic build and dyed black hair, at least Harry assumed it was dyed as her eyebrows were brown, and was sporting a healthy suntan.

“You two coming too?” Harry questioned.

Lily looked at Sophie, who turned to Harry, “Yeah, sure, sounds fun!” She stood up, pulling Lily with her.

As they entered the boys’ dorm room, the others were already seated in a semi-circle, some on beds, some on the floor.

Seamus was busy getting his bottle of fire whiskey and glasses ready, and he looked up sheepishly.

“Erm… I only have 5 glasses with me, does anyone know the Doubling Charm?”

Nobody stepped up to the plate, forcing them all to try until someone managed to create enough glasses for everyone. Harry was the one who managed it in the end. He sighed internally. Previously they could have relied on Hermione for charms like this but now…

He shook off his rumination as Seamus started pouring shots for everyone.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Dean?” Parvati questioned.

“He’s got five minutes before he gets a detention,” Ron scowled, making Harry laugh. If Ron was going to try to diminish the time Dean spent with Ginny, giving detention was certainly an effective way to go about it. Lavender and Parvati exchanged uncertain glances.

“He’s dating Ginny,” Harry supplied.

The girls all hid smiles and nodded understandingly while Neville smirked at Harry from behind Ron.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny…” Ron muttered, “I’m not sure what I would prefer: them being where I can see what they’re doing or them doing whatever they’re doing far away from me.”

Lavender laughed out loud at that statement, making Ron look up irritably.

Seamus neatly stopped any discussion from taking place, by finishing the last glass and raising his own.

“Now,” he said with a comically badly acted scowl, “We could wait for Dean, but as he is the only one with a girlfriend or boyfriend here, I say: screw him!” He tossed the glass back and finished his first shot.

“Seamus!” Parvati shot him an angry look, “We were supposed to toast upon the new year!”

Seamus laughed. “Yeah, we can do that with our second glass!” he said while filling his glass again.

Harry picked up his glass and looked at it with apprehension.

“Watch out, Harry!” Ron said teasingly, “We both know how your last fire whiskey went!”

Lavender and Parvati seemed very interested in hearing this story and so their night began. Dean came in about half an hour later, with a beatific smile on his face, which slipped when he saw everyone was still awake, and the girls were there also.  

“What’s going on?” he asked his best friend.

“While you were tongue-wrestling your girlfriend” - Ron punched Seamus on the shoulder and shouted “shut up!” but he ignored him- “we were having a drink to toast upon the new school year!”

“Alright! Hit me up!” Dean said, doing his best to ignore Ron.

Seamus topped up everyone’s glasses and raised his in the air.

“To having a good year, for a change!” he called.

“To fighting back!” Neville called

“To Hermione,” Ron said softly.

“To Hermione,” everyone repeated and they all slammed their drinks back.

After that, they spend two hours talking about their summers, their OWL scores, and, more importantly, trading stories about Hermione.

Harry was very interested in the stories that Sophie told, which also always involved Lily, as he hadn’t known any of them.

At some point, the DA became the topic of conversation, and Sophie said both Lily and her wanted to join this year.

“Why didn’t you join last year?” Ron asked, “Did you not believe Harry?” Ron said accusingly, narrowing his eyes.

Sophie shrugged. “We weren’t asked, so how could we have joined? I would have probably joined if I knew about it.”

“I’m not sure,” Lily said in a small voice. She had been mostly silent up until that point.

“But did you believe Harry?” Ron pressed.

Before Harry could say anything about it, Sophie shrugged again. “Officially, I live in the UK during the summers, but we’re never home, so I didn’t even know there were people that didn’t believe Harry and the Headmaster. We don’t get the Daily Prophet in the Netherlands, you know?”

“You live in the Netherlands?” Harry asked, before apologizing, “I’m sorry, I should know about that but I realized this past summer that I have been… isolated… from the other students over the years.”

“That’s okay,” Sophia assured him, “Lily and I could have talked to you more as well. It’s a two-way street.”

She went on to explain her situation. Sophie was born to a Dutch muggle and an English half-blood witch. Her paternal grandparents were muggles and had met during the liberation of the Netherlands in 1945. Her parents had met when her father was on a business trip to London and they eventually settled in the Netherlands. The Dutch wizarding community was quite large, relatively speaking. Before the Statute of Secrecy was instituted in 1689, many European wizards and witches moved to the Netherlands, attracted by the comparatively tolerant nature of Dutch culture at the time. Most of them now lived among the Muggles as there was little space for full magical villages. The only exception was the magical shopping centre, the Wegisweg, in Amsterdam, which was built underneath the canals.

Most young Dutch wizards and witches went to either Durmstrang, Beauxbaton, or Koldovstoretz because those schools took students from all over Europe. But Sophie’s mother did not want Sophie to go to Durmstrang, and she already spoke English on a near-native level, being raised bilingually. So, they bought a small cottage in England to satisfy the Hogwarts application condition that you have to live in the British Isles and they had to navigate a tremendous amount of bureaucratic nonsense because Sophie’s name was not in the Book of Admittance, as the Quill of Acceptance only added new-borns born in the UK or Ireland. But after they went through the process, her name had been put down and here she was.

Lily didn’t say much, remaining silent unless she was spoken to directly, which Harry tried to do. She had spent most of her summer playing her electric guitar, lamenting the fact that she couldn’t bring it with her to school. She was a half-blood and like Sophie, her mother was a witch, while her father made his money in the British punk scene. He had approached Lily’s mother while she walked through Manchester in her Witches’ robes and complimented her on her “eccentric fashion sense”.

She had been instilled with a love of punk culture at a young age and her father was still on top of the newest developments and she name-dropped a dozen bands that Harry had never heard of. She also lamented the fact that she hadn’t gotten her radio cassette player to work at Hogwarts yet, but she told Harry that she was thinking of asking Professor Flitwick if she could try getting it to work as an extracurricular Charms project.

Having talked with Lily a bit now, he could kind of understand why she would remind Ginny of Luna. Sometimes Lily spaced out and had to be brought into the conversation again. When Luna did it you got the feeling she saw and knew things she shouldn’t but with Lily, it seemed more because of a lack of attention span. Sometimes she started a sentence and stopped halfway through. Sophie was clearly experienced with it. The two seemed to be best friends, which made sense. Parvati and Lavender were thick as thieves, and Hermione had always been with Ron and Harry, so that left Lily and Sophie. Harry was glad to see that they had each other, as he still felt, and would probably feel for some time, bad about basically ignoring them for so long.

Just after twelve, they called it a night. They had made some preliminary plans for September 19^th, Hermione’s birthday. They wanted to host a get-together somewhere in the castle, so the non-Gryffindor members of the DA and others could come as well.

The DA was discussed again, as Parvati, Lavender, Dean and Seamus all expressed interest in continuing. Lilly and Sophie, well, mostly Sophie, expressed interest in joining this year. Hermione hadn’t asked them last year. Sophie theorized that Hermione probably assumed that they didn’t want to join and had decided to not ask them. Lily needed all the time she could get to pass her classes, as she struggled with all of them except for Charms, and Sophie had discussed with Hermione her wariness of openly going against the Ministry for fear of being ‘deported’, adding air-quotes. This year the stakes were different, however. Lily had dropped most of her classes, continuing only in DADA, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures, so she absently told Harry she thought she probably could manage to join the DA this year. As the DA was no longer a subversive anti-Ministry group, Sophie had no qualms joining. It also seemed to be a great way to improve her DADA marks, especially with Snape now teaching. Parvati and Lavender, for the first time since starting Hogwarts, were not taking all the same classes, as Parvati was planning on becoming a Healer and needed a Potions NEWT, which Lavender had dropped. The same was true for Seamus and Dean, as Seamus had not passed his Charms Newt (apparently, he had blown up his examination desk during the practical). Both of them were not continuing Potions, which, Harry realized halfway through that conversation, was unsurprising. How could any student that had achieved an Exceeds Expectation on their Potions OWL have known they could continue anyway? They hadn’t been informed about the lowered standard for NEWT Potions class until this evening, so they would have planned accordingly.

Saying goodbye to the other 6^th year Gryffindors, Harry finally made his way to bed. This promised to be a strange year. He could not yet phantom how different Hogwarts was going to be without Hermione, but he was sure her influence would be sorely missed, in both expected and unexpected ways. Just like he missed Hermione in expected and unexcepted ways. Deciding to pay extra attention to Ron the next week, he drifted into an uneasy sleep, the familiar dreams of Veils and Purple curses tormenting him throughout the night.

--In Her Memory--

Harry woke up the next morning with an uneasy feeling in his stomach, but he couldn’t decide whether it was because he was dreading their first day of classes, or because of last night’s firewhiskey. He and Ron were at breakfast bright and early though, so his uneasiness was probably not due to the alcohol. Moreover, for Ron, an entire summer of waking up early had made it no problem, and for Harry, the unspoken promise to do better driving him to start the year with a bang had helped him get up.

While most other students were drifting into the Great Hall, Harry and Ron were finishing up their breakfast. They were waiting for Professor McGonagall to give them their class schedules so they could plan their extra-curricular activities accordingly. This was very important as Harry was both Quidditch captain and the leader of the DA, so he had to plan lessons and training schedules for both. During their summer Quidditch discussions, Harry, Ron and Ginny had agreed on two Quidditch practices per week: one during the week focusing on Chaser- and Beater drills, and a full game, with a two-hour time limit, against the reserve team on the Weekends. With the DA, they had decided to host two meetings a week if they could. When Parvati expressed her desire to become a Healer, Harry had decided to indeed make Healing a part of the DA activities. By holding two meetings people could focus on both fighting and healing, have extra practice time or they could do only one and have more options of when to attend.

When Professor McGonagall approached the two of them with their class schedules, she clearly hesitated a bit, seemingly unsure whether to say something about the elephant in the room. She decided on brusquely telling Ron and Harry that it was good to see them again and giving them their class schedules.

What was immediately clear was the amount of free time they would have in their NEWT years. They had Potions and Herbology twice, but they were both doubled. Defence, Transfiguration and Charms they had three classes each for.

“Lots of time to plan our own stuff,” Ron remarked, “but oh no…” he groaned, “we start with Snape!”

The first day back after at Hogwarts after what had happened and they were immediately being fed to a victorious Snape, who had finally snagged the position he had wanted from the beginning. It could only go wrong.

--In Her Memory--

It only took until the end of Snape’s introductory ode to the Dark Arts at the start of their class (at least that’s how it sounded to Harry) for things to go very wrong, very fast.

Snape had asked whether anyone had an idea what the advantage of using nonverbal spells was and the class, having spent five years getting accustomed to Hermione answering all questions, descended into a sad and awkward silence. Well, mostly. Draco and his posse didn’t answer either, though. Where most other professors would probably have understood the sentiment behind this silence, Snape obviously thought himself above such sentiment.

“Dear, oh dear,” he said softly, sneering at the class, “and here I hoped you were all only dunderheads when it came to the subtle art of Potionmaking.” He paused. “Then again, the Dark Arts can be subtle as well, which would explain why some of you have failed so spectacularly at defending against it.”

He said this last part looking directly at Harry and kept staring as he added, “Defending against the Dark Arts required a measure of concentration and discipline which some of us,” he paused, all cold smile and cold eyes, making everyone look between him and Harry, “are sorely lacking.”

This was a clear reference to Harry’s disastrous Occlumency lessons of last year. Harry gritted his teeth, trying to keep his cool and forcing Snape to break his gaze first.

Snape set them practising shield- and disarming charms nonverbally, without ever explaining the actual advantage. Harry thought this advantage was clear anyway, even if Dolohov hadn’t burned that lesson into his very soul. He just wasn’t one to answer questions when not called upon.

As Ron and Harry practised, Snape walked between the pairs critiquing their charms and attempts at casting them nonverbally. It did not escape Harry’s notice that with every person Snape suspected of DA membership, the man would sneer and make a disparaging comment about shoddy wand work and something disparaging about past teachers, Harry very much included. Harry didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him when he said this, but he could feel Snape’s cold, black eyes, boring into the back of his head nevertheless.

Some minutes later he approached Ron and Harry. Ron had slowly been turning red in concentration, trying to cast the Expelliarmus nonverbally.

“Pathetic, Weasley,” Snape said nastily, “Here – let me show how it’s done” and without hesitation snapped his wand toward Harry, who, also without hesitation, shouted “PROTEGO” and cast a shield charm so strong Snape lost his balance and fell into a blackboard.

Snape crawled up to his feet, livid. “Potter! Didn’t I tell you to practise nonverbal spells?”

“Yes,” Harry answered stiffly.

“Yes, sir,” Snape corrected icily.

“There is no need to call me sir, Professor.”

It had come out before he knew it, but even if he had known it would come out, he wouldn’t have held it back. He was only about 30 minutes into his first lesson with Snape this year and he had already run out of patience.

Snape slowly turned red. Harry could count on one hand the number of times he had seen the Slytherin Head of House lose his cool, but he thought another instance was within reach.

“It seems,” Snape said in a distinctly forced calm voice, “Mr Potter thinks he is funny.” Even as angry as he was, Snape had the uncanny ability to be heard even if he spoke in a near-silent volume. He narrowed his eyes at the rest of the class. “Some of you might even agree with that sentiment.”

He walked back up to the front of the class.

“Well, let me tell you something even you dunderheads should understand. We are at war. People who think they are funny end up dead. As will anyone, friends and family, who are stupid enough to put trust in that person. The events of last June show clearly what happens when you have any trust whatsoever in a spoiled child, with an overinflated ego, that has only managed to get as far as he has by pure luck and leeching of people better than him.”

As he said this his voice had become louder. He wasn’t shouting but it was clear to anyone that Snape was angrier than most had ever seen. Harry narrowed his eyes at the professor he’d hated since the first potions lesson back in his first year. The class was completely silent by this point, but even if they had talked, Harry probably wouldn’t have been able to hear them over his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

As always he was angry at the way Snape seemed so keen on disparaging him, but what made it so, so much worse was the fact that the barbs echoed his own insecurities in the worst possible way. The entire summer they had been whispering this exact message: he had survived mostly by luck and the interferences of others. Others weren’t so lucky and they paid the price. This was exactly why he and Ron had their unspoken agreement to do better. But to hear his insecurities spoken out loud by someone he hated made them so much worse. To his horror, he felt angry tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He was not going to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing him cry, so he did the only thing he could think of: go on the attack himself.

“Who do you suggest we trust then? You? A thirty-something loner with an ugly tattoo, who has done who-knows-what to earn it? I’m sorry, Snivellus, but the only reason anyone has to trust you, is your position as a teacher, and you’re demonstrably bad at that.”

Harry hadn’t planned to call him Snivellus but he had seemed to have lost almost all grip on his self-control. Moreover, Hermione was no longer there to stop his worst impulses. Ron was much more likely to let Harry fuck-up, which he had probably done just now. Harry tensed his jaw, trying to stop talking and continued staring at Snape.

Before Snape could say anything though, Harry felt a spell heading his way. Before he could respond, however, he heard Ron cast a shield charm. He turned in time to see a purple spark of light, where Malfoy’s spell at collided with Ron’s shield charm. Seeing the purple hue angered Harry only more, but before he could retaliate, he felt his wand slip from his hand.

He jerked around again in time to see Snape catch his wand, smiling triumphantly. Harry heard Ron groan beside him and he knew he was in deep trouble.

“I have no need for your help, Mr Malfoy. A hundred points from Gryffindor and two months detention for insulting a teacher, Potter” Snape said, smiling nastily. He threw Harry’s wand back at him. “Now get out of my sight.”

“Gladly,” Harry responded. He grabbed his bag and made his way out of the classroom, hearing Snape instruct the class to continue practising just before he slammed the door shut.

Cursing Snape under his breath, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor common room. He had over 6 hours before his next class, Potions class with Slughorn, so he had enough time to calm down to present his best self to Slughorn. As he made his way across the castle, he remembered the conversation he had with Fleur about Bill’s twelve Newts. He had been planning on studying for his potion NEWT on his own, which wasn’t necessary anymore. So why wouldn’t he do it with Defence Against the Dark Arts instead? That’s what he had done last year and it worked out… well, it worked out quite good test-wise in any case. How hard could it be to continue it on his own?

If he decided right now to study Defence on his own, or with Ron, he’d never have to step foot in a classroom with Snape as a teacher again! Harry very much liked the sound of that idea, and he was going to propose it to Ron as soon as his friend made it to the common room as well.

Harry was so deep in thought that he almost walked into Luna, interrupting her conversation with a portrait on the 4^th floor.

“Oh, sorry Luna, didn’t see you there,” Harry apologized. He took a second to look at Luna. She was barefoot, with her hair in a messy bun, and seemed to have just wandered out of bed. Luna hadn’t responded yet and was watching Harry with her head cocked to the side and her big eyes unblinking.

“Er… are you okay?” Harry questioned.

“Are you?” Luna countered slowly, “you’re having quite a fascinating ecosystem today, haven’t you?”

Harry just shrugged. “Some stuff happened, but I’m actually quite glad it did,” he explained. “Why are you talking to a portrait in this … er… outfit?”

“I had the most amazing dream, which I just had to discuss with Mrs Trelawny,” Luna answered, pointing at the portrait of a woman, and talking over it as it said “A portrait?! I have a name you know!”

Harry looked at the portrait and read the tag. It was a portrait of Cassandra Trelawny, a legendary Seer from the 17^th century, according to the tag.

“Do you often talk to the portraits?” Harry asked, a bit lost for words. Sometimes he didn’t know what to do with Luna.

Luna nodded with a smile. “When I felt lonely in my first year I spoke to them, so I spoke to all of them.”

“Oh,” Harry said stupidly, not knowing what to say to that admission.

Before either of them could say anything the bell rang, signalling the morning break.

“Oh!” Luna gasped, “is it that time already? See you later, Harry!”

With that, she sped away, presumably off to dress for class. Harry wondered whether she had had breakfast at all but just shrugged it off. He thought it best to just let Luna be Luna.

He made his way to the common room to wait for Ron.

About five minutes later, the Gryffindors made their way back to the common room. Every one of them was going for a NEWT in DADA. They had not set a single step into the common room before they were loudly cursing Snape and saying that he went too far. Snape hadn’t directly accused Harry of being responsible for Hermione’s death, and they had limited knowledge of what happened but they were rallying behind Harry nonetheless. Harry wasn’t sure whether they actually believed Harry wasn’t responsible but he liked it nonetheless.

They all fell silent as Ron spoke up. “What are you going to do?” he asked simply. He didn’t need to say anything else, Harry knew that whatever his decision, Ron would support him.

“I’m dropping the class, I’ll just do it on my own,” he stated.

“Damn right,” Ron said, “we’ll show that bastard we don’t need him.”

“What spell did Malfoy use?” Harry asked in turn.

“I think it was just a colour changing charm, actually,” Ron said, “in any case, there was almost no power behind it, I think he was just trying to wind you up even further.”

They both sighed. This was going to be a long year.

--In Her Memory--

During lunch, it became clear the Hogwarts rumour mill had been working full-time again, as the story of Harry being kicked out of the DADA class was the hot topic. As Harry walked into the Great Hall, people watched him with a curious expression but the sound of murmurs did not dim. He spend the next three hours creating a perfect weekly study schedule with Ron, who was surprisingly keen to plan it all out.

With them quitting the DADA classes, they had even more time to plan according to their own wishes. They planned their weekly schedules according to what they thought was most important. This meant that Harry would spend an hour each week planning out DA lesson plans. They replaced the three hours of DADA class with six hours of self-study, taking up the same block as the class would have, plus the hours after. As they had discussed previously they planned two DA sessions per week, one on Tuesday evening, and one on Friday evening, which could also function as a bit of a get together to celebrate the beginning of the weekend. This meant that Quidditch practice would be on Wednesday evening and Sunday morning, with the former being drills and the latter being a full game against the reserve team. They also made room for two double blocks of studying Healing, but when they would happen would depend on whether Madame Pomfrey would teach them or whether they’d have to do it on their own.

Harry also made a to-do list. Ron and he needed to talk to McGonagall about their desire to become Animagi, they had to ask Madame Pomfrey about lessons, and they had to plan Quidditch try-outs, which Harry was planning for next Wednesday, but he had to communicate about that with Madam Hooch.

Having made the first edition of their weekly schedule-to-be, Harry and Ron prepared themselves for their first Potions class. Harry told Ron about the potion book he had gotten from Dumbledore and the Headmaster’s wish that Harry would try to become Slughorn’s favourite student.

“And you have no idea why?” he asked.

Harry shook his head and looked around the common room. “It seems to have something to do with Voldemort, but I have no idea what,” he whispered.

Ron blanched. “Slughorn was head of Slytherin, right? Maybe he supports him?”

Harry shook his head. “While he made some comments that were questionable, I don’t think he would actually support Voldemort.”

“What did he say?” Ron asked curiously.

“He said my mum was a favourite of his and that he thought it was funny how good she was considering she was muggle-born.”

Ron said nothing but scowled. They spend the next half hour discussing some of the potions they thought they’d have to brew this year and then made their way to the dungeons.

As they made their way through the halls, people stopped to stare and whisper at Harry. “It’s rude to point!” Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year. Harry would have felt bad for the kid but he couldn’t must much sympathy at the moment. As they made their way across the Great Hall, they saw Hagrid at the other end. He looked rough from what they could see and left the Great Hall before they could get a better look at him.

“We should visit Hagrid this week,” Harry said, thinking of his increasingly full schedule. Ron agreed, wondering out loud whether anyone would be continuing Care of Magical Creatures, making Harry cringe. He had to agree though.

As they made their way into Slughorn’s classroom, they were greeted by four cauldrons and their accompanying vapours and smells. Harry and Ron took places close to a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: a mix of butterbeer and treacle tart, the crisp smell of fresh air, and something sweet: either flowery, fruity or both. He immensely enjoyed the smell even though it left him feeling a bit confused. It evoked the feeling of being home as well as a fierce protectiveness in him. He wondered what the potion could be.

Harry looked around interestedly, wondering who would be continuing with Potions. There were only a dozen people in the room. Ernie McMillan, the solitary Hufflepuff in this class and member of the DA, sat at the brewing station next to Harry and Ron’s. He held out his hand toward Harry. “Harry,” he greeted pompously before he frowned, “absolutely disgraceful performance from Snape this morning. There was absolutely nothing wrong with our Shield Charms! Well, those of us old DA lags that is,” he added with a wink.

Besides the three of them, Malfoy was there, as well as Blaise Zabini, the other Slugclub member, Pansy and Daphne. Parvati was sitting with Padma, who, with Lisa, Mandy and Terry were the Ravenclaws in the class.

As Harry looked around he saw that Ron was staring at the golden cauldron with a confused look on his face. He reckoned Ron was probably also thinking about what potion could give off such an enjoyable mix of scents. Before he could ask, Slughorn entered the Dungeon, greeting everyone jovially. He greeted Harry and Blaise individually.

“Now then!” Slughorn started his lecture enthusiastically, “scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…” Harry grabbed the edition Dumbledore had given him out of his book bag.

As Harry expected would be the standard in every first lesson this week, Slughorn began his talk with the topic of NEWTS. He had prepared some potions that were NEWT level. He pointed at a cauldron, the one closest to the Slytherin table.

“Anyone know what this one is?”

Harry tried to look and smell but the potion looked like water and he was being distracted by the pleasant scent from the golden cauldron.

As he had with Snape’s lecture that morning, he felt a keen sting of grief, not having Hermione immediately answer the question. Instead, and to his horror, Malfoy answered.

“It’s Veritaserum, professor,” he said, shooting a glance past the man toward Harry and Ron and smirking.

“Very good!” Slughorn answered, “how did you figure it out?”

“It’s easy, sir, it is both odourless and colourless, which are the key characteristics of Veritaserum.”

While Slughorn gave a brief overview of the effect of the potion, Ron leaned over to whisper in Harry’s ear. “Daddy probably trained him to detect it so he wouldn’t spill the beans on their support of You-Know-Who.” Harry nodded, thinking that was very likely.

Slughorn moved over to the second cauldron, and now Harry gave it his attention he recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance as Polyjuice Potion. Thinking of Dumbledore’s wish, he raised his hand and, unsurprisingly, Slughorn passed over a couple of Ravenclaws to let Harry answer.

“It’s Polyjuice, sir,” he said.

“It is indeed! How did you recognize it? The viscosity? ”

“Yes, I saw it up close once and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way it looks,” Harry said, trying to suppress a smile as an image of Cat-Hermione swam through his thoughts.

Slughorn looked intrigued at this admission. “Where have you come in contact with Polyjuice, if I may ask?”

Harry smiled but remain silent for a couple of seconds. “I think it’s better I don’t answer that question, sir,” he said, smiling politely but also in a way that he hoped looked cheeky rather than smug.

“What are you doing?” Ron whispered from beside him. Harry shook his head to shut him up.

Slughorn guffawed and shook his head merrily. “Very well!” he answered. Harry secretly rejoiced his gamble had paid off. Slughorn had said his Mum was one of his favourite students and the way Remus described her, she had a cheeky and funny side. So was going to try to emulate that and it had paid off this time.

“Now,” Slughorn said walking over to the golden cauldron, “who can tell me what this is?” To his surprise it was Pansy that answered, although the reason she knew about this potion became clear when she correctly said that it was Armortentia.

“The most powerful love potion in the world,” Slughorn said. “The most interesting aspect of this potion is that its scent is dependent on the person smelling it. It is influenced by what a person is attracted to. So far, it is the only potion we know for which the perception of its characteristics is dependent on the individual. This makes it recognizable once you have smelled, of course, granting the subject of your desire hasn’t changed, but otherwise, it can be recognized by its mother-of-pearl sheen and the spiralling way the steam rises.”

Harry looked at the potion and wondered what the smells could mean for him. He looked over worriedly as he heard Ron groan and stiffen beside him. His face was white, his jaw was tense and he stared at the Amortentia with a mix of longing and hatred. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what set him off and Harry felt terrible for him. Before he could say anything Ron had stood up.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve been feeling poorly and the potion fumes are making me nauseous, could I be excused?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, er, sure, Mr Weasley, do you need someone to take you to the Hospital Wing?” Slughorn looked genuinely worried about Ron. Ron looked at Harry for a moment and their eyes met. Harry nodded with his head, trying to say that he’d come if Ron wanted him to, but Ron shook his head.

“No, I’ll manage, sir, thank you,” he said, and he walked out of the dungeon.

Harry could see Malfoy whispering to Blaise and thought he saw him mouth the words ‘pathetic’ and ‘mudblood’, which royally pissed him off.

After some theatrics with Slughorn having supposedly forgotten to tell them about the fourth cauldron, which contained Felix Felicis, he set them to brewing the Draught of Living Death. The best attempt would earn a small dose of the Felix Felicis. Harry was interested to see Malfoy perk up at that knowledge, and he kept an eye on him throughout the next half hour. The Slytherin seemed very keen on winning.

In the end, he was no match for Harry’s edition of Advanced Potion-Making. Deciding to trust Dumbledore, and thus the book, he followed the revised instructions that were scribbled in the margins. It became immediately clear that whoever had written these instructions knew what they were doing. In combination with the freedom of brewing without Snape constantly haranguing him, he actually managed to win the Felix Felicis.

Slughorn jovially stated that he wasn’t surprised a child of Lily Potter would be able to brew such a good Draught of Living Dead on their first try. The way he emphasised Potter left Harry with no doubt the sly Potions master knew of the Potters’ Potion legacy.

Harry left the class feeling torn, he was happy he had made inroads with Slughorn, but he now had the difficult task of trying to cheer up Ron. And he wondered if that would be possible at all, especially considering the multiple stabs of grief Harry himself had felt throughout the day.

Chapter Text

Being back at Hogwarts had the unsurprising effect of increasing the number of nightmares and sleepless nights Harry had. Not that he had ever been completely free of them at the Burrow, but at the end of August he had rarely woken more than one time during the night. The first night was okay, probably due to the firewhiskey. The second night back at Hogwarts though, after a day full of memories and reminders, he had woken up almost every half-hour. This time Cedric and the cemetery also made an appearance, something Harry hadn’t dreamed of since the end of June. When he greeted Ron the next morning, his friend didn’t look much better.

Luckily, they had Herbology at first thing Tuesday morning, the morning air doing wonders in waking them up. Tuesday was promising to be a fun day of classes, relatively speaking of course. Herbology was almost always an active class, Charms, which was always a fun class, was before lunch and then they had Transfiguration before the afternoon break.

Both Charms and Transfiguration being before breaks was convenient for Harry and Ron as they wanted to talk with both Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall.

After Charms, where they had been revising their OWL spells and practising to do them nonverbally, Harry and Ron waited for the rest of the class to exit the classroom.

“Professor Flitwick, do you have a moment?”

The diminutive professor looked up from the notes he was taking. “Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. Of course, what can I help you with?” he said, curiously looking between the two of them.

“As you probably know,” Harry began, “last year Hermione, Ron and I ran a student club called Dumbledore’s Army.” Flitwick nodded. Harry continued, “This year we can run the club officially, I’ve already spoken with the Headmaster about it. He supports the continuation, although he wants us to change the name.”

“Yes, he has mentioned it at our start of the year meetings,” Flitwick said.

“Great. Well, with the meetings no longer being …er… illegal” – Ron snorted – “we were hoping to bring in some guest teachers and when I spoke to Luna at dinner last night she mentioned you have duelling experience. So, we were wondering whether you would be interested, granted you have the time, to give a demonstration or a guest lesson sometime?”

Flitwick smiled encouragingly. “I’d love to, to be frank! I’m curious though, are you planning on asking professor McGonagall as well?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then back to the Charms professor and shook their heads.

“We hadn’t thought about it to be honest,” Ron said.

“I see. I think the most important duelling lesson I could teach is the use of spells that are not meant for combat. Both Charms and Transfiguration are a crucial part of the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum, Shield charms being an obvious example. But with a bit of creativity, a competent witch or wizard can deal a lot of damage or protect themselves with something like a Summoning or Banishing charm. And not just to escape a Dragon!” he added with a smile and a nod at Harry. “Would that be an okay subject?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, while Ron said “Yes, that’s perfect!”

“Ron and I are going to plan out the first few lessons this week, so is it okay if we propose a date for you next week?”

“That’s fine with me, Mr Potter. Was that all?”

“Yes, thank you, professor!” Ron said.

“Not at all, Mr Weasley.” Flitwick took a moment, taking in Harry and Ron’s already tired eyes and sighed.

“I am quite sure that wherever she is, Miss Granger is very proud of you two,” he said, his voice trembling a little. “I think the way you have handled the situation thus far is commendable, even with the …er… disagreement you had with Professor Snape yesterday, Mr Potter.”

Harry swallowed, knowing that by now everyone at Hogwarts would have heard at least one version of what had happened. Even though Flitwick seemed to not be cross with him, Harry was quite sure the same couldn’t be said for McGonagall. She might be fair but she was also strict, and Harry had quite openly disrespected a teacher.

They thanked the Charms professor and made their way to lunch. Harry wasn’t that hungry, the continuous reminders and memories of Hermione keeping his stomach in a constant state of turmoil.

Transfiguration class was quite comparable to how Charms had been. McGonagall showed them some of the work they would be expected to know, which as Remus had said included conjuration and human transfiguration.

What Harry did notice was that McGonagall looked ruffled herself. The class had started with an awkward moment when she had asked a question and had clearly wanted to call on Hermione out of habit but she stopped herself in time. Harry realized that it must be strange for the professors as well, having to wait for answers when they would normally come quickly. Well, in their year at least.

As McGonagall finished her end-of-class lecture she asked Ron and Harry to wait, which they did. When the rest of the class had moved out, she came over. “Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. I believe we have many things to discuss. Please accompany me to my office.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other and followed her.

“Now,” McGonagall as she sat down in her office chair, “there are multiple things I want to discuss. First of all, Mr Potter, I have been informed by Miss Weasley this morning that you are planning on creating a reserve team for Quidditch?”

Of all the subjects Harry expected McGonagall wanted to discuss, Quidditch was low on the list. Not completely unexpected though, he knew how fanatic his Head of House could be about Quidditch.

“Yes, we discussed the advantages of it during the summer, and I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t do it. Did Ginny explain why we were planning it?”

“She did, yes, although I think she left the primary reason unspoken,” the Professor answered with a small smile. “So she herself can play a Quidditch game every week,” she explained, when Harry and Ron looked confused. Harry smiled.

“Yes, I’m sure she’ll find herself a place on one of the teams,” Harry responded with a smirk.

“Indeed. Well, I support this idea. In case you didn’t know, Hogwarts has had reserve teams for all houses during times in which the school population was large enough to sustain eight full teams. Sometimes, the reserve teams would also compete in the league. Considering the larger number of children born in the years after the war, I expect we might see that system come back at some point. But I doubt we could manage it this year.”

“How did that system work?” Ron asked, as always interested in anything Quidditch related.

“It’s fundamentally the same as the current system, only instead of three games each team plays six. First and reserve teams of the same house don’t play each other, of course. There were also strict rules about which players could play on which team, as the reserve teams were generally meant for younger players.”

That made sense, Harry thought. “I’ll need to announce the reserve team sometime before I hold try-outs, I guess. Give people more time to think about it.”

“I think that would be wise, Mr Potter. I assume you’re planning try-outs for some time next week?”

“The plan is for next Wednesday, with the first practice on Sunday morning. We train two times a week: one focusing on drills and one with a time-limited game between the first and reserve team. The first few weeks we’ll just do drills though, to get everyone up to speed.”

“I’m glad to see my trust in you has been warranted,” the Professor said with a smile.

Harry didn’t. He knew McGonagall’s compliment was specifically related to his Quidditch captaincy but Snape’s remarks from yesterday echoed through his head nonetheless. Also, his Quidditch plans were at most only half his doing, the rest being Ron and Ginny’s influence. He was mostly just glad that Katie hadn’t held his captaincy against him. She had congratulated him last night.

McGonagall lost her smile and her lips thinned. “That being said,” she said in a more frosty tone, making Harry think ‘here we go’, “we need to discuss what happened between Professor Snape and you yesterday, Mr Potter. It is unacceptable – silence Mr Weasley – that you seem to have learned nothing of the Umbridge debacle of last year. I implored you then to hold your tongue, and you responded by organizing an illegal study group, specifically named to annoy the Minister.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “What kind of response can I expect from you this year?”

Harry looked at her incredulously. She wasn’t angry at the one hundred points he had lost Gryffindor? Nor the eight weeks of detention? She just wanted to know his response? Well, they had already decided on their response of course, but he wasn’t sure she was going to like it as much as she apparently did the DA.

He shot Ron a look and took a moment to formulate his response and think of all the reasons he was dropping the course.

“Since coming to Hogwarts we have had six different teachers for Defence Against the Dark Arts,” he began cautiously, “Two of those taught us nothing, two were good, and one was okay, though his lessons were primarily theoretical. Despite one of the useless ones being in our OWL year, most of our friends managed an OWL. I managed an Outstanding myself, even after an entire year of basically being self-taught. Bill Weasley showed us that it is possible to achieve a NEWT without actually taking the course. And with the fact that Snape is teaching this year, and well, we saw yesterday how that went. We have decided to drop the course and do it ourselves.”

“Indeed.” McGonagall folded her hands and put her elbows on the table, her expression giving nothing away about what she was thinking. She said nothing for a long minute and Harry had to try his hardest not to squirm.

“Mr Weasley, do you agree with Mr Potter?”

“I do, Professor,” he responded, without hesitation.

Her eyes flicked between the two before she relented and breathed in and out heavily.

“Okay.”

Ron couldn’t stop himself, “Okay?” he said, sounding surprised.

“What did you expect, Mr Weasley? That I could stop you from dropping a course? I hope you are aware that you are no longer required to attend Hogwarts. Our laws only demand young witches and wizards at minimum sit for OWLs in the core courses. So I can’t stop you from dropping a course, even if I, in normal circumstances, would vehemently try to dissuade you from doing so. However, times are not ‘normal’, and I rather think you and Harry are wise enough to make this decision. I have no doubt whatsoever you’ll both do everything in your power to keep up with the course work.”

‘Because you need to kill Voldemort or we all die’ Harry added in his mind. He shivered slightly.

“Very well. Have you thought about the repercussions of your decision to drop Defence Against the Dark Arts and study it by yourselves?”

Harry and Ron shared a look again. What repercussions? They shook their heads.

“I’m well aware that Professor Snape isn’t the most popular teacher at Hogwarts,” McGonagall said carefully, “I’m afraid that other students will follow your example. I fear that Professor Snape would be quite cross with you if that were to happen.”

Ron snorted. “Well, I’m sorry professor, but how is that our problem? Snape has to realize that nobody likes him or his classes. ” 

“In Potions at least,” Harry added, “We shouldn’t judge him on one class of Defence, I suppose.”

McGonagall pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “You both do realize that you’ll be working with Professor Snape in the fight against You-Know-Who? Provoking him won’t do us any good.”

Harry shrugged. “As Ron said, I don’t see how we can be to blame if people follow our example. It’s not like we're going to go around convincing others to do the same, although I wouldn’t be surprised if others did so nonetheless.”

The Head of Gryffindor House shook her head. “Well, okay, as I mentioned previously I can’t do much about it. I do appreciate you informing me of your decision.”

“Now,” she continued, “on to a related but different topic. The Headmaster has informed us of your decision to continue the DA. If it is to become an officially sanctioned club, there has to be certain oversight provided by the professors. Have you thought about how you’ll instate this oversight?” When Harry didn’t respond immediately, she continued, “The Charms Club, for example, provide Professor Flitwick with a planning and feedback on their performance the month prior.”

“Oh, we could do something like that,” Harry said, “considering we are planning on asking multiple professors, including yourself, on providing guest lessons on different topics. Ron and I talked to Professor Flitwick this morning about it, and we’re planning on asking Madame Pomfrey whether she’d be willing to do some classes on Healing. Would that be enough oversight?”

McGonagall looked impressed. “That would certainly go a long way, yes. I understand that in the present circumstances it would be … unwise to ask the most appropriate teacher for oversight, so in this case, it’s fine this way. Have you thought about a new name yet?”

Ron was the one to answer. “It was a group effort the last time so we decided it should be one this time as well.”

The Professor nodded her assent. “Now, you mentioned you wanted to ask me to give a lesson as well? What kind of lessons were you thinking of?”

“The use of transfiguration in a duelling situation. Professor Flitwick mentioned the use of banishing and summoning charms, so the transfiguration equivalent of that would be great!”

The more Harry was talking to the different professors about the DA this year, the more he was looking forward to starting again. That reminded him.

“We probably should also mention that we’re planning on holding two sessions each week, one on Tuesday and one on Friday. In the perfect scenario, this means people can work on multiple techniques or spells at the same time but it also gives people more space to choose when to attend.”

“Will you two be attending each session?” McGonagall asked.

“Yes, that’s why we planned Quidditch practices on Wednesday and Sunday,” Ron answered.

The Transfiguration professor raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly. “You seem quite certain you’ll make the team again, Mr Weasley. Surely I don’t need to tell Mr Potter that nepotism is not the best way to manage a team?”

Ron reddened and smiled embarrassedly, while Harry laughed.

“Well, the topic should be easy enough for me to lecture on without too much preparation, so I would be honoured,” McGonagall said, bringing the conversation back on track.

“We hope to have the preliminary planning done early next week. Is that okay for you, Professor?”

“Certainly,” she looked at a clock standing on her desk. Harry had been eyeing it throughout the conversation. It was one of the first clocks Harry had seen in the Magical World that didn’t use hands. This one used a digital-like interface and was made of brass which transfigured itself into the correct time every minute. Harry was impressed with the amount of spell work that must have gone into fabricating it.

“It’s almost teatime, would you two like to join me?”

Harry looked at Ron and mouthed animagus at him. Ron nodded.

“Yes, we’d love to. We actually have one other thing we’d like to discuss with you, professor.”

“Oh?” She looked intrigued.

“Ron and I want to become Animagi. We have already read two books on the process but Remus made us promise to ask you for help.”

“I see,” McGonagall said, before calling for a Hogwarts House Elf and requesting a tea tray.

She watched Harry and Ron curiously. “May I ask why?”

“Because it’d be bloody brilliant,” Ron said enthusiastically.

“Language, Mr Weasley!” she reprimanded Ron, before adding with a wry smile, “I do remember your assessment from your first year.” A memory of being late for a transfiguration class in their first year made its way to Harry’s inner eye and he smiled.

Harry was reminded of how strict McGonagall could be when he saw how she narrowed her eyes.

“Is that the only reason you want to try this extremely difficult piece of magic, Mr Weasley? Because if so-“ She was interrupted by a House Elf popping in to serve them.

When the Elf disappeared again, Harry quickly spoke up. “Besides it being a brilliant piece of magic, we also think it’d be a good trick to have up our sleeve. And I also would like to be able to help Remus…” Harry trailed off.

“Like your father and godfather before you,” McGonagall finished, with a hint of sadness in the quiver of her voice. “I haven’t had the time yet to speak to you about what happened last June, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, but I hope you know that I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

The boys both murmured thank yous.

McGonagall cleared her throat. “As I said, the Animagus process is very difficult. What can you tell me about it?”

Harry recognized the test in that question, she wanted to know how invested they were.

“There are generally two parts to the process: finding out which animal you can become and learning how to perform the actual transformation.”

“That’s correct. Mr Weasley, how would you go about finding out which animal you can become?”

“There is a potion that you need to brew and drink, under very weird circumstances.”

“Weird circumstances?” McGonagall challenged.

“You need to hold the leaf of a … erm… the leaf of … oh yeah, the leaf of a Mandrake in your mouth for an entire month. And the ingredients are kind of hard to come by, I think,” Ron finished frowning. Harry, knowing his best friend well, knew he was probably reprimanding himself for forgetting the Mandrake when it had played such an important role in their second year. He couldn’t judge, however, considering what he had forgotten about their second year.

“And what about the second part of the process, Mr Potter?” McGonagall continued the interview.

“Performing the transformation takes a high level of expertise in Human-Transfiguration, Conjuration, and understanding of both the human body and the body of the animal you transform into.”

McGonagall smiled approvingly. “Okay, last question. Why is Conjuration important?”

Harry blanched, he’d been wondering that ever since Remus had mentioned it but so far the books hadn’t answered it. He looked at Ron, but he clearly didn’t know either.

“I don’t know, professor,” he admitted.

“Only Animagi whose animal alter-ego is an animal that is very similar to humans, like pigs or certain primates can get away with just using human transfiguration. Most of the time, and to a varying degree, the animal alter-ego requires understanding Conjuration. For example, animals that have more than four appendages. Do you know why?”

Harry thought about it. Padfoot had four legs but he had a tail. Would that have required extensive knowledge of conjuration? Harry felt like it didn’t but he wasn’t sure. He thought about what McGonagall had said about the likeness between different bodies. Humans had two legs and two arms, so he guessed it was relatively easy for Sirius to transform those into a dog's front and back legs. What about his tail? Humans did have a tail bone, so that could be transfigured into a longer version of itself to serve as a tail. Aha!

“Because there’s nothing to transfigure into the other appendages?” he guessed and Ron made a noise of comprehension.

“Yes, indeed,” McGonagall smiled, “imagine becoming a spider.” Ron made quite an embarrassing squeak beside him, but Harry could never tease him over it.

“Where would the extra legs come from? You’ll need to understand conjuration to such an extent that you’re able to conjure something that you can subsequently transfigure into a working appendage. This all needs to happen in a split second, of course,” McGonagall explained.

‘Can’t be harder than defeating Voldemort’ Harry thought as if that would motivate him. He and Ron both sighed, probably thinking along similar lines.

“Indeed,” McGonagall said, “and I’ll be frank with you, both your Transfiguration grades thus far are not what I’d consider an ideal starting point, so you’ll need to work very hard to be successful.”

Harry and Ron both nodded. Harry knew that transfiguration was one of Ron’s best subjects, if only he was motivated to try. Animagus training would be a good motivator.

“Are you willing to help?” Ron asked.

McGonagall nodded slowly, thinking.

“Here’s what I propose: start with making the potion. You’ll need to wait until you have found your forms before you can start practising the transformation. I will help you with that part,” she said. Harry and Ron grinned at each other until the Professor continued. “but only if I see an improvement in your transfiguration work. You’ll need to manage consistent Outstandings in your classwork.”

Ron swallowed audibly but nodded his assent. Harry wondered how difficult of a task that would be: surely studying for the transformation would improve his understanding and his grades as well.

“That being said, brewing the potion is difficult enough as it is, so focus on that first. Hagrid might be able to get you some of the ingredients that can’t be bought.”

With that, and some book recommendations besides the one they already had, they finished up their tea and Harry and Ron returned to the Gryffindor common room. On the walk there Ron came up with a good idea.

“You know how you need to get in Slughorn’s good graces?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“We should ask him if he could help with brewing the Animagus potion.”

Harry thought about it. It wasn’t a potion one brewed often, if at all, and if he had the man scouted well, he’d probably enjoy it immensely if he asked him to keep it a secret.

“That’s a great idea!” Harry enthused.

--In Her Memory--

They spent the rest of Tuesday doing homework, fielding questions about the Quidditch Reserve team, the announcement of which Harry had posted on the notice board, planning their Defence self-study, and planning the DA sessions. They still needed to ask Madam Pomfrey if she’d be willing to teach Healing, so they couldn’t plan out too much.

Tuesday had been spent Snape-free but that changed during lunch on Wednesday. That morning there had been another Defence class, but as they had decided, Harry and Ron had spent the time on their own. They had gone to the Room of Requirement and practised duelling non-verbally, before going to Transfiguration after the morning break. As expected, without Snape, they were improving faster. Still, they were only trying disarming and shield charms at this point and those weren’t effective at all. They had a long way to go yet.

That they had not been to Defense had not gone unnoticed and Snape confronted them during lunch.

“Potter, Weasley, detention for missing class,” he said. “My, my, my, Potter, trying to outdo your father and godfather in bad behaviour, are we? They never had any respect for their superiors either,” he sneered.

Harry breathed deeply, remaining composed for now. He heard Ron do the same.

“I’m sorry, there seems to be a misunderstanding…” he tried to say but he was cut off by Snape.

“Misunderstanding? No, Potter, I understand completely. You had your feelings hurt and decided you were above my classes. And Weasley, of course, follows where you go. Well, I won’t stand for students that skip classes.”

Harry glances over to the Head Table, where McGonagall was observing the confrontation.

“If me dropping your class is the same as me deciding I’m ‘above it’, then I guess you’re right,” he said, trying to put on a smile he hoped would annoy Snape but ending up with some sort of grimace.

“What are you talking about, Potter?” Snape demanded.

Harry glanced at McGonagall again, but Ron answered before he could.

“We decided we can teach ourselves better than you could,” he stated firmly and almost convincingly. But Harry could feel Ron’s leg bounce from nerves. Those who had been watching had fallen silent but murmurs broke out again at that statement. Harry thought he heard the DA mentioned a couple of times. They were surrounded by Gryffindors of course.

“Is that so?” Snape answered in an icy voice. “Well, Weasley, I hope I don’t have to remind you what happens to people who put themselves in danger without proper educa-“

“Severus,” a powerful voice warned. They looked to their lefts to where the Headmaster strode into the Great Hall. “I’d like to speak with you. In my office.” He turned around without waiting for a reply and walked out again.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster, looked at Harry and Ron, snorted derisively and followed Dumbledore, his robes flapping behind him.

As soon as Snape had left the Great Hall, Harry and Ron looked at each other and let out a small sigh of relief. They finished their lunch in silence, listening to the rumourmongering going on around them. As soon as they walked out of the Great Hall they were approached by Neville. He only spoke three words, but they were the words Harry had expected.

“Count me in.”

--In Her Memory--

The remainder of the week was spent doing homework, practising their nonverbals in the Room of Requirement, and further planning DA sessions. Harry had officially scheduled the Quidditch try-outs as everyone in Gryffindor was talking about the planned reserve team. They had also gone and talked with Madam Pomfrey, who agreed to plan some sort of Healing study guide. She could fall back on a similar program that had existed during the last war. She also promised to use her connections with St. Mungo’s to ask whether they could spare people to help teach since her duties might prevent her from teaching.

His second potion class had gone quite like the first one for Harry. With the help of the book that Dumbledore had given him, he managed another Outstanding. He had read through the book in bed most of the evenings as he had discovered there was more to it than just potion directions. There was a toenail growing hex, a jinx that would cause the victim's tongue to stick to the roof of their mouth, and a couple of spells whose effects weren’t described. One of them, sectumsempra, just said for enemies. Considering the success the Half-Blood Prince, which was the name he had found scribbled unto the index page, had given him with Potions, he was inclined to trust the previous owner.

During their Friday morning session, they had been interrupted by Tonks. They knew that Aurors had been patrolling the Hogwarts at night and during the day. Tonks said she’d been asked by Dumbledore whether she’d be willing to pop in on their sessions from time to time to give some pointers. She still didn’t look right, Harry thought. Normally she was like a colourful flower but now it looked like she had retreated into herself for the night.

She did share a small tip: it may benefit them to put silencing charms on each other while practising nonverbals and practice duelling with their shield- and disarming charms. The combination of adrenaline, inability to verbalize and less time to think had helped auror-trainees in the past. Tonks also told them that they should indeed first focus on nonverbals spells because it was easier to learn new spells nonverbally from the start. It was recommended to practice all the spells in your arsenal on their own, so learning it nonverbally from the start just saved time. She also explained that they should not see nonverbals as the most important aspect of spellcasting. Sometimes you just needed more power and verbalizing, or shouting, a spell did add more ‘oomph’, as she called it.

Friday and most of Saturday were spent practising and doing their enormous amount of homework. Nothing big happened those days except Ginny snogging Dean during dinner on Friday. When Ron angrily asked ‘what the buggering hell, that was all about” Ginny had angrily explained to them that she was very tired from being asked out. Apparently, she had been asked out every day that week because people didn’t know she was dating Dean. So she wanted to make that clear to everyone. Ron was not feeling better because of that explanation and when he looked ready to angrily tell his sister off, he had been distracted by Luna asking him whether he had ever snogged someone and wondering whether she would ever be asked out. Ron had quickly fallen silent after that. Luna still often sat with them. Harry had seen Dumbledore looking at her one time, and thought the Headmaster approved of such inter-house friendships.

Harry did wake up quite late on Saturday. He had worked hard all week and was still suffering from nightmares often, so he was feeling tired. He probably wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep that night either, because Dumbledore had sent him a letter during lunch telling Harry that they were still meeting that evening but that Harry would be spending the evening in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore did explain that it was just a precaution and probably unnecessary but Harry was still quite nervous when he said goodbye to Ron in the Gryffindor common room. He looked back when walking out of the portrait hole and felt another keen sting of grief when he saw Ron sitting in their corner, looking more than a bit lost. Ron and Hermione had always had each other whenever Harry had to do something alone. Just before he left the common room, he saw Parvati and Lavender making their way over to Ron. At least he had some company, Harry thought.

A brisk walk through the castle later, with his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack, Harry was sat in the Headmaster's office. His nerves were being replaced with excitement. He’d finally get some answers.

“Well, Harry. It seems you’ve been busy,” the Headmaster began, “it seems you’ve already managed to earn yourself eight detentions!”

Harry shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

“I have informed Professor Snape that you have indeed decided to drop his class, so the detentions he gave you and Mr Weasley last Wednesday have been cancelled,” Dumbledore continued, now frowning a bit. “I had hoped that Professor Snape and yourself could work to move past your indifferences this year, but alas.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Harry said politely, “when those ‘indifferences’ include the fact I exist…  there’s only one thing I can do about that and it’s just too bad for Sn- Professor Snape that there’s a prophecy to contend with.”

The corner of Dumbledore’s grey-white moustache twitched. “Indeed,” he answered. “The detentions you earned in class on Monday still stand. You’ll be serving them on Sunday evenings, I’ve been told.”

Harry groaned.

“Now, before I explain to you about the need to have Professor Slughorn here and why we will be heading to the Hospital Wing, how have you found his classes?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment. “He’s certainly more enthusiastic about teaching and potions. But I can’t say for sure how effective he is as a teacher, as I use the book you gave me.”

“Ah, yes, has it been helpful?” Dumbledore inquired.

“Enormously, there are instructions in there that I never even knew could matter. Like crushing rather than cutting. It made all the difference. I wonder why Professor Snape never taught us stuff like that. Not that Slughorn does,” he added fairly.

“Do you think it has improved your standing with Professor Slughorn?” the Headmaster asked.

“Probably, yes. I think I have him figured out as well. He seems to like my mother, so I try to act more like what I have heard she was like.”

“Yes, Lily was one of his favourites indeed,” the Headmaster said softly, in both remembrance and contemplation.

“As to the reason why I have asked you to do this, I’m afraid that we must first do something else instead. We need to take a trip down memory lane first,” Dumbledore said, standing up. He walked to the basin Harry knew held the Pensieve.

Instead of taking the Pensieve to his desk, as Harry had expected, Dumbledore carefully chose different memories from a stall. He poured them into a potion bottle, which held a white and blueish liquid.

He walked back to the desk and set the bottle in front of him.

“Have you heard of the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’ Daydream charms?”

Harry stared at his Headmaster, non-plussed at this apparent random change of topic. “Uh, yes? They let you experience a specific kind of dream, right?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed, an exquisite piece of charm working if you ask me. Professor Flitwick was most impressed when he first heard about them.” He took the potion bottle he had prepared in his good hand. “This potion acts similarly. It lets the drinker experience certain memories as dreams while they are sleeping. This has the benefit of being able to absorb the information presented in the memories without wasting daylight, so to say.”

He frowned. “It’s a tricky potion. In combination with a Dream-remembrance potion, the lesser-known opposite of the Dreamless Sleep potion, and a simple sleeping charm, one can spend an entire night dreaming and remember everything as if it was their own memory. Needless to say, whether this a good or a bad experience is determined by the memories used.”

Harry had a sudden horrifying vision of having to spend an entire night dreaming about Hermione and Sirius without having the freedom to wake up like he normally had. He shivered.

“Why do we need to use this potion, can’t we just use the Pensieve?” he asked.

“We could,” Dumbledore confirmed, “but some of these memories are rather long and I would prefer to have this stage finished as soon as possible.”

“Stage?” Harry questioned.

“That will also be explained after you’ve seen these memories, my boy,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with the knowledge that that would annoy Harry.

Harry shook his head with a smile and stood up. “Okay, well if that’s the case, let’s begin.”

Dumbledore hold up his hand and Harry sat down again. “Before we do, I’d like to give you some frame of reference, to aid with your understanding.”

Harry nodded and sat down again.

“This collection of memories is a chronological overview of the most important events in the life of a young Tom Riddle. At least in so far as I was able to get my hands on memories from those witness to these events. Some of them are my own. One features Professor Slughorn, and it is this memory that is likely the most important one in this collection.”

Harry swallowed. He was going to spend the entire night dreaming about Voldemort? He wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

Dumbledore noticed his hesitance. “Do not worry, Harry. It’s quite safe. The hospital wing is only logical. I rather think it’d be a bad idea to do this procedure in your dorm room, as I’m sure you understand.”

Harry did understand. Maybe he would talk in his sleep, or yell or something even worse. He was sure his dorm mates had to deal with that often enough without him consciously triggering these dreams. He nodded his assent.

Together he and the Headmaster made their way to the hospital wing. Half an hour later, Harry drifted off into a fitful sleep, full of gaunt memories.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up dazed and confused. At least he thought he had woken up, he couldn’t be sure. He had dreamt so incredibly vividly he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t still dreaming. Then he remembered that they had been actual memories rather than dreams. Thinking back, he was startled to realize he could remember almost everything about it, although one dream – no, memory – seemed off somehow. So deep in thought he was, he hadn’t noticed Madam Pomfrey walking up to him.

“Good morning, Mr Potter. Are you feeling well?” the Matron asked.

Harry shook his head to clear the cobwebs, he was feeling quite strange. Maybe he just wasn’t used to sleeping a full night anymore.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” he eventually responded.

“In that case, the Headmaster has requested you see him in his office. Breakfast will be provided for you there. You know where the showers are,” she added, taking in his sweaty pyjamas. Harry noticed that as well, clearly, he had been sweating quite a lot during the night, which would explain how thirsty he was.

After finishing his morning ablutions he made his way to the Headmaster's Office, which he entered to see a full breakfast waiting already.

“Ah, good morning Harry!” The headmaster greeted. “Please, enjoy this breakfast with me. How are you feeling?”

“Strange,” Harry answered distractedly for he had just seen that the toast had little lightning bolts on it. He shook his head in embarrassment, and asked: “Dobby?”

The Headmaster chuckled and inclined his head. “Indeed. And yes, I would expect you to feel strange after the night you’ve had. Now, let us discuss what you’ve seen over breakfast. What are your thoughts on what you saw?”

Harry thought about it while nibbling on his toast. “The woman in the shack was Voldemort’s mother?”

“Yes, Merope Gaunt.”

Harry sipped some of his pumpkin juice. He tried to think chronologically but the memories all flowed through one another. But two stuck out, the one he thought felt wrong and the one of Dumbledore meeting with a young Tom Riddle in the orphanage.

“Sir, when you first met Voldemort, did you know then?” he asked curiously.

“That I had met a boy that would grow up to be one of the darkest wizards to have ever existed? I did not. I did decide to keep a close eye on him because of some of his tendencies. Can you guess which troubled me?”

Harry quickly relived the memory. “He was already using magic to make people do what he wanted,” Harry guessed correctly. “Whats-her-name said the other children were afraid of him.”

“Indeed. Like I said yesterday, all these memories are crucially important in the fight against him. There are two other very important personality traits on show in that memory. First of all, his dismissal of my offered help with his school books. He was by then already an einzelgänger, someone who prefers to work and be alone. Voldemort has never felt the need for friends, even if some of his followers might believe they are. In the end, he works alone and only for his own gain. Secondly, as you saw, he was taking things from the other children. What do you think about that?”

Harry took his time to think and eat some of his bacon and scrambled eggs. “I don’t see Voldemort as someone who would care for material possessions,” he thought aloud. “As far as I’ve seen, he cares only about power.”

“I agree with that personalisation,” Dumbledore nodded, “but sometimes an act is about something other than the act itself. I would suggest that a young Tom Riddle wasn’t taking these objects out of material want, but rather as a symbol of his power over those who he took it from.”

“And how is that important?” Harry questioned.

“What did you think of the Slughorn memory?” the Headmaster countered.

“Something seemed off with it,” responded Harry, not sure why the Headmaster didn’t answer his question.

“Correct, the memory has been tampered with.”

“Because of that, what was it? Horcrux? The thing Voldemort asked about. That’s when the memory turned funny.”

“It certainly seems so.” Dumbledore sighed deeply. “Are you finished with your breakfast, Harry? I’m afraid our discussion will turn less unpleasant from here on out.”

Harry finished his pumpkin juice and nodded. The Headmaster waved his wand and banished the breakfast to the kitchens.

Dumbledore looked Harry in the eyes intently. “Harry, what I’m about to tell you… It is of the utmost importance that this knowledge is kept secret. Yes, I would say we should guard it even more fiercely than we do the prophecy.”

Harry swallowed but nodded. “I did tell Ron about the prophecy,” he admitted. He wanted to ask why the prophecy mattered at all, but he was too curious about what this was all about.

The Headmaster nodded. “Good, I think Mr Weasley has earned that right and I’d rather you not carry your burdens all alone. It is important to let ourselves be supported by, and to support in turn, our friends and loves ones. Now, you have been asking why I want you to be Horace’s good favour.”

Harry nodded. As he did, he connected the dots. “The memory has been tampered with… we need to get the original full memory?”

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

“I take it that Horcrux thingy is important,” Harry stated, “So, we need to know what exactly Slughorn told Voldemort?”

“Yes. And to impress on you the importance of this quest I must ask of you, you must understand what a Horcrux is.”

The Headmaster stood up and began pacing.

“Put simply, a Horcrux is an object in which a witch or wizard has stored part of their soul.”

“What?!” Harry gasped. “How does that even work? Why would anyone do that?”

“Why is a dementor kiss so effective, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. Harry was beginning to feel a bit annoyed at how the headmaster never just gave a straight answer. Ever the teacher, Harry thought.

“Well, you can’t live without a soul? I mean, yeah you can live but it wouldn’t really be you, right?”

“What does that tell you about the importance of the soul?” Dumbledore pressed.

Harry remained silent for a couple of moments. If your body could live on without a soul, but you couldn’t, maybe it could also work the opposite? You living on without a body? Isn’t that what a ghost was? But Voldemort had a full body. What was it he had said in the graveyard? That he had existed as something lower than the lowest ghost? Did that mean Voldemort has successfully created a Horcrux? Had he stored part of his soul in an object? That would make sense, considering he had lived on while apparently his body had been destroyed that Halloween.

“That the soul is more important than the body in determining whether someone is dead?” Harry finally responded. “If Voldemort has created a Horcrux then that would explain why only his body died when he tried to kill me, right?”

“A Horcrux… or multiple?” the Headmaster murmured.

“Multiple?” Harry ask aghast. Would that be even possible?

“This is what I hope to learn from the complete memory of Slughorn, you see.” He sat down and opened a drawer of his desk. He pulled out Tom Riddle’s Diary. “You yourself gave me the clues with which I solved Voldemort's apparent immortality. This diary in which Tom Riddle himself explained how he had opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

When Harry didn’t respond but just looked questioningly at the Headmaster, Dumbledore continued.

“I myself have not seen the way Tom Riddle manifested himself as a visible entity, but the way you described him, it was something I had never heard of before. A memory acting on its own? As you might have guessed by my use of the pensieve and last night's potion, I have done extensive research on how memories work, but this phenomenon had not even been speculated about. Based on everything I knew about memories, the most logical conclusion was that this wasn’t a memory at all, but rather a darker, more sinister magic.

That leads me to the two questions I have been researching since. Firstly, how did Voldemort survive, and secondly, what magic was used to create this Diary? It is only after you described what Voldemort had said in the Little Hangleton graveyard, that I realized that the two questions were in fact the same question. No one had gone further on the path to immortality, he had said. That’s when I began to suspect that this diary may be a Horcrux, and possibly one of multiple. Horcruxes are extremely rare, and as far as I can find, there has never been anyone who managed to create more than one. If Voldemort did, then he would have gone ‘further beyond’ indeed, but another reason I believe there might be multiple is the way the diary operated. What is the point of a Horcrux, Harry?”

“To become immortal?” Harry said questioningly.

“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore said impatiently. “But would you agree it is mostly a defensive instrument?”

“You use it to defend against death, yes,” Harry agreed, surprised by the Headmaster’s demeanour. It reminded him a bit of how Hermione sometimes had gotten when her brain was going too quick for Harry and Ron to follow.

“Then why would anyone use it as an offensive instrument? If not for the fact that it was not the only one? The diary was clearly meant to be used, to open the Chamber of Secrets. Why would anyone risk a Horcrux like that?”

“Because Voldemort wanted to ensure that people knew that he was the Heir of Slytherin, that he had found the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry said. “But,” he continued, understanding what the Headmaster was saying, “he probably could have found a way to do so without using a Horcrux, right?”

“I am inclined to think so, yes.” The Headmaster hesitated a bit. “As a matter of fact, I’m almost positive that I have already destroyed a second one, but,  I cannot be certain,” he said, stressing the last bit.

“You did? What was it? How did you destroy it?” Harry said eagerly

Dumbledore waved his wand and a jewellery box flew over to them. He carefully opened the lid and turned it around to Harry.

Harry looked curiously at the ring, “Why did you think this was a Horcrux?”

Dumbledore frowned and waved his blackened hand, “For one, the way the ring was protected. If not for my own expertise and the fact that when I managed – barely – to get back to Hogwarts it was Professor Snape who found me, I probably would not have survived.”

Harry had never seen the Headmaster look so sad and grim.

“Secondly, the location. I found the ring, Slytherin’s ring to be exact, in the shack in which Voldemort’s mother grew up.”

“So, we can at least be certain that the ring belonged to Voldemort at some point,” Harry concluded.

“Yes, we can even prove it, as he is wearing it in the Slughorn memory,” Dumbledore added.

Now he said it, Harry could indeed recall seeing it in the memory.

“As to how I destroyed it,” Dumbledore continued, “I used the same method you did.” He waved his wand and the Sword of Gryffindor flew from its pedestal unto the table. “Are you aware of the properties of Goblin-wrought silver, Harry?”

Harry shook his head.

“Goblin-wrought silver repels anything that might blemish it, but, more importantly, it also absorbs anything that might make it stronger.”

“I stabbed the basilisk through the mouth…” Harry wondered out loud. “Did the Sword absorb its venom?”

“It did indeed. You see, Horcruxes can only be destroyed when they are damaged beyond magical repair. There are only a handful of methods that can do so, and none of them are easily controlled. However, the Sword of Gryffindor is, which makes it by far the best tool for destroying Horcruxes.”

“Beyond magical repair,” Harry repeated softly, as his gaze lowered to his arm where the scar of the Basilisk bite was.

“Phoenix tears cannot repair things like diaries and rings, Harry, so the diary and the ring were indeed beyond magical repair. You were not beyond magical repair,” the Headmaster said softly, understanding what Harry was thinking.

“So, you hope that the original memory can tell us something about how many Horcruxes Voldemort has made?” Harry asked, after a couple of moments of silence.

“Yes. The Chamber of Secrets was first opened in the 1942-1943 school year, and the summer after was when the meeting between Voldemort and his uncle Morfin took place. That same day, the Riddle family in Little Hangleton was murdered in their home. Morfin Gaunt was seemingly quite happy to confess he had done it.”

“Voldemort made him say so, didn’t he?”

“Morfin was most likely under the Imperius Curse, Voldemort using this uncle’s wand to bypass the Restriction on Underage magic.”

Dumbledore hesitated again. “You have not yet asked how a Horcrux is created, but I am afraid at least part of the process is important information. You see, to store a piece of the soul in a foreign object, one would have to first split his soul.”

“And how do you do that?” Harry asked, thinking about dark rituals and all kinds of crazy stuff.

“The splitting itself is quite straightforward: emotionless, cold, premeditated murder. The preparatory and subsequent processes are so foul, I will not utter them out loud,” the headmaster said gruffly.

He cleared his throat. “I’m quite certain that Voldemort used the murder of his muggle relatives,” both Harry and Dumbledore acknowledged the irony in that last part with a look, ”to create the Ring Horcrux, just as he had used the murder of Myrtle Warren to create the Diary.”

“So, my theory, and you are welcome to disagree, Harry, is that Voldemort had already created two Horcruxes by the time he was asking Slughorn about them. So, my guess, and my guesses are often right, is that he wanted to know if he could continue making more.”

Harry and Dumbledore said in silence for a moment, thinking it all over. Harry thought about the Diary and marvelled once again at Ginny’s strength, now he knew that Ginny had survived almost an entire school year not just with a dark artefact, but with an actual piece of Voldemort's soul. His smile slipped as he realized how disgusting that was. Harry himself might have some of Voldemort’s power, but to live with a piece of his soul for a year… Harry shuddered unwillingly. It did give him an idea though, even if he hated that he was going to propose it.

“Have you thought about talking with Ginny Weasley? She had contact with Riddle for almost an entire school year, and in my experience, Voldemort is quite full of himself. Maybe he told her something that might give us hints to what the possible other objects are?”

The Headmaster looked thoughtful. “I have not, but I’m also hesitant of involving her. First of all, I’d prefer to keep this knowledge between as few people as possible, although I think Mr Weasley can be included in this discussion. Secondly, I am quite sure that Ms Weasley would rather not be reminded of what happened between her and Tom Riddle.”

“She did say she’d happily never talk about it again,” Harry confirmed.

Dumbledore led out a contemplative noise. “But luckily I have some ideas of my own. We have not yet discussed the memories of the negotiations between Tom Riddle and Hepzibah Smith. As you will recall, Mrs Smith boasted of having possession of two objects belonging to the Hogwarts Founders.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, “I can understand why Riddle wanted the Locket, but why the Hufflepuff cup?”

“I rather think Tom liked the symbolism in using objects from the Hogwarts Founders for his Horcruxes. I think he would see it as the ultimate proof of his power.”

Harry looked at the sword again. “Are there any relics from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, besides the sword?”

“Throughout the centuries people have always claimed they possessed such items, but proving they did belong to one of the founders is almost impossible except in rare circumstances. Like the Locket and the Ring, we can be quite sure that the Sword was Gryffindor’s. There are no concrete leads for anything Ravenclaw related. Myths and legends have persisted throughout the centuries of course. Of particular interest would be the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, which is a rather persistent myth about a supposed Ravenclaw artefact which is, as the name suggests, lost.”

“Do you think Riddle managed to find it?” Harry questioned, already knowing the probable answer.

Dumbledore sighed. “He might have. He might not have. At this point, there is no way for us to know. Which is why we can only focus on our next step, which would be getting the full memory from Slughorn.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded and started to summarize, “so he had the Diary, the Ring, and we suspect the Locket and the Cup because we can assume that Riddle took them from that old lady. But we can’t be sure whether he took them to make Horcruxes or just as tokens of his power.” 

“Correct. Although, if there are more than two, I have more clues and theories about another, than we have about the Locket and the Cup,” the Headmaster said hesitantly. He looked out the window for a second and seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “I wonder, what would you say when I confess I have been curious for a while about the behaviour of the snake, Nagini?”

“Nagini?” Hary wondered out loud, “you can use animals, a living thing, to make a Horcrux?”

Something flashed through the Headmaster’s blue eyes but Harry couldn’t recognize what it was.

“Well, it would inadvisable to do so. But as a Parselmouth, Tom would have believed he had full control over the snake. You wouldn’t want the Horcrux to spill your secrets, after all.”  

Harry mulled this over in his head. So Dumbledore suspected the existence of at least five Horcruxes. He wondered why he still needed the Slughorn memory if he thought he had identified five already, so he asked.

“First of all, as you mentioned earlier, we don’t know for sure whether the Locket or the Cup have been made into Horcruxes. Secondly, I’m hoping Tom mentions a specific number of Horcruxes.”

“And you have no theories on the number?” Harry asked. The Headmaster had obviously spent much time thinking about this, considering the many theories he had already presented to Harry. “Aren’t there magically significant numbers?”

“There are. But almost any number can be theorized to be magically significant, and we do not know which theories Voldemort follows.”

They were silent for a minute, both thinking about the discussion they had had.

“Well,” the Headmaster spoke up at last, “I think that will do for now. Moreover, it is almost lunchtime! I assume you understand the gravity of this task I must ask of you Harry? It is of crucial importance we get the unaltered memory from Professor Slughorn.”

Harry nodded and stood up. Before he could say goodbye, Dumbledore spoke up one last time.

“Oh, before you go, Harry, while you were sleeping in the Hospital Wing, it seems that Ms and Mr Weasley had some sort of altercation in the Gryffindor common room.” Dumbledore's moustache twitched in what Harry thought with a chuckle. “As far as I have been informed, it seems that Mr Weasley has taken exception to some of Ms Weasley and Mr Thomas's rather enthusiastic, public displays of affection. I thought I’d warn you.”

--In Her Memory--

When Harry heard the details about Ron and Ginny’s fight or screaming match, he was rather glad he had been in the Hospital Wing. Ron had been in a bad mood the entire evening while working on his assignments and when Dean and Ginny had walked in just before curfew he had confronted them, or rather Ginny. This had led to her saying that the only one Ron had ever kissed had been Aunt Muriel, after which Ron had flipped. Seamus and Neville, who’d been the ones to fill Harry in on the situation, had been puzzled by Ron's extreme reaction to the statement. Neville, haven’t kissed anyone as far as Harry knew, wondered out loud why Ron cared so much.

Harry knew of course. And he really, really, hoped Ginny didn’t know what her statement had meant to Ron, because otherwise… Well, otherwise he’d need to have words with Ginny because even though they were friends, he wasn’t going to stand someone hurting Ron like that.

He was worried for Ron. Harry himself had many years of experience with lack of sleep, but he noticed that Ron had not slept well this week, where normally you’d need to fire a cannon to wake him up. He needed to keep an eye on him, and he was quite sure that the spat with Ginny had not helped Ron at all.

He had finally found him after lunch in the Room of Requirement. Ron had been laying on a couch with a box of Martin Miggs comic books and a mountain of candy wrappers and empty plates.

Harry didn’t say anything about what happened or the state that he had found Ron in, he merely held out his hand and suggested they took a walk around the ground and then visit Hagrid. Harry thought telling Ron about the Horcruxes might be a good way to distract his friend from the fight with Ginny and what that fight had reminded him of.

Walking around the Lake, Harry told Ron everything he had learned that night and morning. Ron was suitably horrified about the concept of Horcruxes and wondered out loud about how messed up You-Know-Who was in the head.

Visiting Hagrid wasn’t a mistake but it was not the happy distraction Harry had hoped it would be. Hagrid was distracted and made several annoyed remarks toward both Harry and Ron, but it turned out that Aragog, the Acromentula, was dying and the colony in the forest was in a state of upheaval. Harry and Ron tried their best to comfort Hagrid but faltered when Hagrid seamlessly transitioned from already grieving Aragog to reminiscing on Hermione’s many visits to his hut. Hagrid did agree to help them find the potion ingredients needed for the Animagus potion.

Not at all perked up, Harry and Ron made their way back to the Castle. As they passed some of the empty classrooms that students used to study, he heard Ginny and Luna talking. He told Ron to go on to the Common Room without him. Ron merely shrugged and walked on.

Harry knocked on the door before he made his way into the room, where Ginny and Luna were busy with what looked to be Ancient Runes. At least, he thought he recognized the Syllabary that Hermione used to also drag around everywhere.

“Hi, Luna, Ginny,” he greeted them. They looked up and greeted them back, Luna smiling broadly, Ginny looking a bit apprehensive.

“Where have you been?” she questioned, “I haven’t seen you since just after dinner last night”

Harry smirked. “Missed me, have you?” He frowned then, “Maybe it would have been better if I had been there, considering what happened.”

“What happened?” Luna asked curiously, looking between Ginny and Harry.

Ginny sighed and looked sad. She turned to Luna. “I’m sorry, Luna, could I talk to Harry privately for a moment?”

Luna nodded. “Oh, yes, sure, I’ll go ask Dobby for some hot chocolate!” She left the room but poked her head back in before Ginny or Harry could say anything. “Just be careful, a flock of Kriebis came in with Harry.”

Harry looked at Ginny who was playing with a bit of parchment, decisively not looking at him. Harry thought he had never seen her look so meek.

“Do you understand why you hurt Ron so much with what you said?” Harry asked, deciding to just get to the point.

“I wasn’t sure,” Ginny said softly, “but you just confirmed it.” She looked at Harry then. “I almost made it even worse, I was about to mention Hermione kissing Krum.”

Harry drew in a sharp breath. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Ron had bodily attacked his sister had she done that.

“I know, I know,” Ginny sighed covering her face with her hands. “I’m awful.”

“Why did you respond so aggressively anyway?”

Ginny scowled at him. “It’s hard to explain.” She hesitated. “Please, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think you can relate to my position at all.”

Harry snorted, “What? Being a girl with many brothers that grew up in a loving family? Yeah, that’s about the complete opposite of my situation.”

Ginny grinned half-heartedly but then turned calculating eyes on Harry.

“You know, you never did talk to me about the Dursleys.”

Harry blanched. Fuck, he thought. He had held some false hope that Ginny had forgotten about their little bargain.

“Oh yeah, I… I guess. But we’re talking about you, not me, right now,” he said.

“That’s what you said the previous time,” Ginny remarked with an evil smile.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “But I really need to do my homework now, I haven’t had time since before dinner yesterday.” It wasn’t even a lie but it felt like one nevertheless.

“Sure.” Ginny deadpanned. “Don’t think you can get out of it, Potter.”

Harry just scowled at her and turned to walk out of the room before he suddenly realized something.

“Wait…” he said, slowly turning around. “When you wanted to mention Hermione kissing Krum, you said that would’ve been worse. And it would have been, but … do you know, did Hermione… was Hermione in love with Ron?”

Ginny looked up from her homework with sad eyes, all but confirming it. “She never said so, but I could tell,” she said, trailing off.

“Well, shit,” Harry said out loud.

“Yep,” Ginny nodded.

It was only when Harry was walking back to the common room that he realized that Ginny had used the Dursleys as a way to keep him from asking more questions about why she reacted like that to Ron. He wondered what that was all about. Was it something to do with the Diary?

--In Her Memory--

Harry spent most of his evening leaving Ron alone again, as he had his first detention for Snape. While Snape wasn’t present himself, as he had delegated this duty to Filch, he still managed to torment Harry by making him rewrite detention slips from the Marauders. Just like he had done last year. When he finally managed to get to the Common Room, his hand aching from writing for two straight hours, he still had a lot of homework to do. Ron had kept him company for a bit. He had done a lot of it the night before and sat across from Harry making plans for the yet-to-be-renamed-DA. Between the two of them, they had come up with a plan for the first two months, including lessons from Flitwick and McGonagall. In the end, Harry went to bed at two AM and he lay awake for an hour, long enough to notice that Ron wasn’t sleeping well either.

He woke up tired on Monday morning for his defence study with Ron and Neville. They were making slow progress with the nonverbal casting, and they took turns in casting silencing charms on each other.

After the morning break, Harry and Ron had been planning on continuing with their homework but Neville asked if they were interested in joining him in a work-out. Being tired of doing homework they agreed and they spent the hour before lunch running around the grounds. Harry managed to keep up with Neville a bit longer than Ron but they both slowed to a brisk walking pace long before Neville did. Harry repeated a previous thought out loud to Ron, the summer had been good for Neville.

As they entered the Gryffindor Common Room, still drenched in sweat and a bit out of breath, they were approached by Seamus and Dean who wanted to know what they had been up to.

As Neville explained, Seamus noted that he had noticed that Neville had lost weight. Neville flushed a bit and waved the compliment away. Both Seamus and Dean asked to join next time, and Neville said that he was going to do some strength training on Thursday morning and that they could join.

That evening, before dinner, Dumbledore stood up to announce that tomorrow evening, Tuesday, would be the first meeting of the continued organisation formerly known as Dumbledore’s Army. Harry and Ron had already informed the old guard so the announcement was primarily for new prospects. Harry knew that at least Sophie and Lily were planning to be there.

Harry and Ron spent Monday evening preparing a start-of-year speech for the ‘old DA lugs’, as Ernie had called them.

Even though Harry was quite sure he and Ron had never been so prepared for something school-related in their lives, he was nervous nonetheless as they walked up to the Room of Requirement.

They arrived about ten minutes before seven, made the room appear, and walked in.

They both stopped a couple of steps into the room as memories threatened to overwhelm them, but they were not all bad. For Harry, this room represented a light in the dark. This was the room in which he could forget about his troubles, and do something that he liked and enjoyed. It was also the room in which he had his first and only kiss, which held both good but mostly bad memories. The DA itself reminded him of Hermione of course.

Ron seemed to have his own flashes of memories as he was scowling as he looked at the list of things they wanted to ask the room for. Concentrating on what they had written down, about thirty chairs appeared, placed in a semi-circle before a small podium with a blackboard. They had spent some time designing the layout they wanted, and they settled for simply dividing the room into three spaces: The ‘lecture’ space in the middle, a place to study healing on the right-hand side, and a place to practice spells on the left-hand side. The latter side contained cushions and movable practice dummies, whereas the former was still mostly empty, except for a bookcase filled with books on healing. They needed Madam Pomfrey’s input for the sort of things they needed.

Over the next fifteen minutes, people started showing up. Most the previous members who were still at Hogwarts were there, as far as Harry could see. Ron and Harry had discussed how many people they should expect, but they had massively underestimated the number. Luckily the Room’s limits had not yet been discovered so it grew and provided more chairs when needed.

About seven minutes after the meeting was to start Harry climbed up on the podium and surveyed who had shown up.

He frowned and shared a confused look with Ron at the sight of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle an assortment of other Slytherins sitting in the back rows. He was also puzzled by a quite large group of 4^th and 5^th-year girls, from all houses. He could see the black-haired girl from the train sitting with her friends. Sophie and Lily were sitting with the other Gryffindor 6^th years. Luna was sitting next to Ginny, looking very happy to be back with the DA.

He cleared his throat but most of the back rows either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore it. He tried again to ask for silence but to no avail. He was about to conjure some fireworks when Ginny stood up and yelled “SHUT IT”.

This worked for the most part, except for the Slytherins surrounding Malfoy who immediately turned on Ginny, loudly responding that she should shut up herself.

However, before Harry could do something about it, the door to the Room opened one last time and in walked Professor Dumbledore.

“Welcome, Headmaster!” Harry greeted loudly, making everyone turn around to the back of the room. The remaining Slytherins fell silent and looked angry.

“Hello, Mr Potter. I hope you don’t mind me attending this first meeting?”

“Of course not, Professor. Please, have a seat,” Harry responded. Dumbledore took a look at the chairs everyone was sitting in and within a second the nearest free chair changed into an armchair, sporting a peacock print.

“Thank you, Mr Potter. Please continue.”

Harry shared a quick grin with Ron about the Headmaster’s antics and cleared his throat.

“Hello, and welcome to the first meeting of the DA this year. First of all, one of the objectives for today is to think of a new name, as the reasons we chose Dumbledore’s Army last year are no longer relevant,” Harry began his speech. He was sure that his nerves translated into his speech: he felt like he was rushing and speaking at a higher pitch than normal. He knew that in Muggle schools, giving presentations were par for the course, but he had never had to give one at Hogwarts. He looked over the crowd and saw Malfoy’s malicious smirk but also Ginny’s encouraging smile and Luna’s happy one. He felt buoyed by it.

“For those of you who don’t know, I wanted to start this meeting with a short history of the DA.” He swallowed. “The DA was an idea by Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, well mostly Hermione,” he added, to some chuckles from those who knew them personally.

“As you all know, last year we had the privilege of being students of Umbridge,” he said sarcastically. “What you might not know, is the reason why she was here.” Harry waged a quick look at Dumbledore but he was studying his fingernails, so Harry went on. “You see, last year when most of the Magical World still thought I was lying about Voldemort.” Almost everyone shivered or squeaked, and Harry was intrigued to see Malfoy twitch involuntarily. He stopped his speech and made a mental note that maybe he should just call him Riddle instead. He continued: “The Ministry used the Daily Prophet to paint a picture of me as an attention-seeking, mentally troubled brat, while also portraying the Headmaster as senile. However, we did not give in, so Fudge had the ingenious idea that as we were obviously not telling the truth, we were obviously preparing to take control of the Ministry. He thought we were creating an environment of fear to make it easier for us to overthrow him. Therefore, he decided to send us an incompetent teacher, who would act as his spy. That way we would not learn anything the Headmaster could use for his revolution. They didn’t want us trained in combat.

“Well, he did succeed there: we didn’t learn anything useful from Umbridge, besides that Murtlap Essence works wonder for treating cuts. However, in doing so he made a grave mistake: they put themselves between Hermione and an Outstanding OWL result for Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Harry heard Ron make a noise halfway between a chuckle and a sad sob. “So, Hermione, and Ron, presented this idea to me: that I would teach them and a couple of others the spells that I had learned during my preparation for the Triwizard Tournament.

“During the first meeting, however, it became clear that most people there, a select few, most of whom we felt could trust not to rat us out to Umbridge, weren’t there solely for OWL results. Some of them had a personal reason to stand up to Voldemort,” – this time he just kept talking – “some of them just wanted to be able to defend themselves. However, we all knew we were doing exactly what the Ministry was afraid of, so that’s why we eventually decided on the name Dumbledore’s Army.”

Harry continued to explain what Ron and he had envisioned for the coming two months, after which he opened up the floor for questions.

The first to ask a question was a Ravenclaw that Harry didn’t know. “Considering the whole “army” part and what happened last June, do you expect us to actually fight if we join?”

This was apparently a question many people wanted to be answered as all murmuring stopped, and people looked at Harry expectantly.

“I’m not going to force you to do anything, I only want to provide you with help defending yourself and a place to practise duelling outside of your Defense classes,” Harry answered gruffly. Ron and he had discussed it at length. The only goal for the DA was to create a place for others to help each other learn to defend themselves. The goal of the DA should not be to create an actual army or turn the members into soldiers. Harry would not lead people into dangerous situations ever again. Well, except for Ron, who had his own reasons for wanting to fight. But Harry also knew he never had to ask or force Ron to do anything in that regard.

“But you are going to fight?” someone else questioned.

“I don’t have a choice,” Harry responded.

“So it’s true, you are the ‘chosen one’?” yet another unknown asked.

Harry was starting to get annoyed, these questions were just like last year in the Hog’s Head. Before he could answer, however, Dumbledore stood up.

“Under no circumstances will I allow Mr Potter to recruit or convince students to partake in a war,” he stated clearly.

Harry nodded. That wasn’t the goal of these meetings anyway. “The goal of this organisation is only for everyone to practise defensive magic and to help each other learn. That is our mission statement.”

Then, as Harry had feared, Malfoy spoke up. “You must be joking, Potter,” the Slytherin drawled. “Do you honestly expect us to believe you do this out of the goodness of your heart?”

Harry gritted his teeth. “I realize caring about others is hard for you to understand, Malfoy.” To his right, Ron had stood up, seemingly to hold Harry back if the need arises. Or attack Malfoy himself.

An angry flush finally gave some colour to Malfoy’s pale face. “That’s rich, coming from you, Potter. Tell me, how many have died because of …” Harry couldn’t hear the finish of his sentence, not that he needed to, because, as one, all Gryffindors, and the original DA, yelled at Malfoy or stood up and pulled wands on him. Immediately some of the Slytherins pulled their own wands, whereas other Slytherins merely moved out of range.

Once again, the Headmaster had to intervene. “SILENCE,” he bellowed and a wave of something made its way through the room. Harry suddenly felt himself much calmer. He suspected the Headmaster had cast some sort of Calming Charm with an area effect. Everyone looked over to Dumbledore, who remained silent and merely looked at Harry again.

Harry took a deep breath and waited for everyone to settle down, then asked whether there were any more questions. There were a couple from potential new members about things like planning (sessions were held on Tuesdays and Fridays), whether they needed to be members to attend meetings (no, but it was heavily recommended to follow along), and whether it was okay to only attend the sessions on Healing (it was).

After that, they took a five-minute break to allow those who weren’t interested in the meetings themselves but were only there for Harry to leave, and they started with a repeat of the first lesson they had last year: disarming and shield charms. The remainder of the meeting was even more chaotic than it had been last year but most people did seem to have fun. And there were a lot of people there. Harry guessed that almost three-quarters of all Gryffindors were present. The black-haired girl from the train and her friends had stayed, as had Andrew and Jack, the duo that had taken over the Twin’s beater position after Umbridge banned them last year.

Ron practised with Seamus, while Dean and Ginny paired up as well. Dean seemed reluctant to attack his girlfriend, which Ginny promptly made him pay for by stunning him as Harry walked by.

“Ginny, disarm only!” Harry reprimanded her.

“Oh, come on, Potter, we can do better than this,” she pouted.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow and then tried to silently disarm Ginny. It halfway worked. Harry did the charm nonverbally but Ginny's reflexes were too good for the lacklustre Expelliarmus Harry produced.

“Nice try, Potter,” Ginny teased, but she looked a bit impressed as well. Harry merely shrugged and continued walking. He saw Luna duelling with Neville, but she seemed distracted by something and Neville was consistently disarming her. He approached the pair.

“Are you okay, Luna? You seem distracted,” he asked the girl, as Neville walked up to hand her wand back again. “Did the Nargles get you?” Harry said with a smile.

Luna turned around quickly, to look at Harry. “Yes,” she said slowly, “that must be it. Thank you, Harry.” She smiled at him.

“Uh, sure, Luna, no problem,” Harry looked over at Neville, who shrugged. He had no idea either.

Harry walked on to where Sophie and Lily were practising. Sophie was showing Lily the correct way to perform the shield charm. Harry stopped to watch. As far as he could see, Lily was doing everything correctly, but the shield kept petering out after a couple of seconds.

Lily huffed angrily and flushed as she saw Harry watching and looked at Sophie instead.

“I’m not sure what you’re doing wrong,” Sophie said, sounding puzzled.

“You need to concentrate to keep the shield up,” Harry said. “If you get distracted, the shield begins to waver and if it becomes too weak it’ll just vanish.”

Lily nodded, looking self-conscious and tried again. This time the shield held long enough to be useful but it was rather weak.

“Good job, Lily, that’s progress right there,” Harry complimented.

“Thanks,” Lily said softly, shooting a glance his way. 

At the end of the meeting, Harry and Ron had made several notes about things they needed to take into account. Last year the age gap, apart from Dennis Creevy, was manageable, but for this meeting at least, there were multiple first and second-year students in attendance. They would need to come up with some sort of layered system. Harry spoke up to end the meeting officially.

“Thank you for coming to this first meeting. The next meeting will be on Friday, and you can sign up as a member then. That’s when we also decide on a new name, so if you all could think of something, that’d be great. Thanks!”

As they walked back to the Common Room, Ron was looking disgruntled, so Harry asked him what was up.

“Nothing,” was the short, grumbled answer. Harry stopped walking and Ron, sighing deeply did so too.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Harry said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said, sounding a bit annoyed. “Nothing to worry about,” he stated and walked off.

Chapter Text

Waking up at dawn to do their homework did nothing to improve Ron’s mood, nor did the fact they had Quidditch try-outs that evening. Harry, not having to try out for his own position, was looking forward to the try-outs, as was Ginny, who kept coming up to him to talk about it.

In hindsight, Harry berated himself for not realizing that what happened at the first DA meeting was probably going to repeat itself at the try-outs. He already realized that a lot of people would show up, going by the number of applications but he hadn’t realized the reason why. He just thought people were into the idea of playing for a reserve team. However, as he made his way to the pitch, this idea was quickly shut down by the number of people present that weren’t even in Gryffindor. There were people there just to watch him. He groaned but couldn’t count on Ron to have his back, as Ron was overcome with nerves and was looking decidedly green.

Ginny was the polar opposite. Harry couldn’t tell if she just wasn’t nervous at all because she knew she could snag a Chaser spot or if she could transform nerves into sheer determination. She looked like she was ready for war but still smiled and joked around with her friends and Dean and Seamus.

Harry started the try-outs with a simple test, that proved difficult enough for a minority of the people present: fly three loops around the pitch.

He dismissed the first years, the non-Gryffindors, and everyone else who could barely fly and was left with a group of about twenty people.

“Okay, chasers form a group to the right, Keepers in the middle, beaters to the left. Seekers with me, please!”

A tiny second-year girl made her over to him, looking terrified, and very much like she was questioning her decision to be there.

“Hi, you’re trying out for Seeker for the reserve team?” Harry asked kindly, looking down at the girl who didn’t even come up to his elbow.

The girl nodded but didn’t look at him.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked politely, resisting the urge to bend down to talk to her like you would to a five-year-old

She mumbled something be he couldn’t catch what she said. “What’s that?” Harry laughed self-consciously.

“Mia Adams,” she said more loudly.

“Okay, hi Mia,” Harry said again. “Well, as you’re the only one trying out for Reserve Seeker, I guess you have the spot anyway but I still want to see you fly.” He looked up to see the others waiting impatiently. “I’ll come back to you last, okay?”

The girl nodded and looked over at the stands where a lot of people were watching the proceedings and seemed to decide whether she should remain standing or sit down.

“You can sit down,” Harry confirmed and the girl hurriedly made her way over to the stands, where some other second-years were watching the proceedings.

Harry had decided to start with the Beaters, as that would help with the Chaser try-outs which was by far the largest group: there were ten hopefuls in attendance.

None of the Beaters were close to the level the Weasley twins had been, but he was surprised that his assumed duo, Jack and Andrew, were outflown by a third and a fourth-year: Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote. Jack and Andrew may have had the advantage of having played real games together, but Jimmy and Ritchie aimed more accurately and worked together more naturally. Harry made the preliminary decision to draft Jimmy and Ritchie to the first team and Jack and Andrew to the reserves.

He divided the chasers into two groups of five and made them play piggie in the middle. At the same time, the two beater pairs got the command to hit the Bludgers at the two groups.

This was one of Ginny’s ideas and it worked out quite well. It was clear really quickly that not everyone could fly, catch and throw the quaffle, let alone keep any out for Bludgers at the same time.  

Three of the chasers were told they could leave, not all of them taking the dismissal in stride. Harry had to shout at one of them, a seventh year, to remove himself from the pitch. The remaining seven chasers included Ginny and Katie of course, but also Dean, which surprised Harry as he had always thought Seamus was the quidditch player of the two. He looked over and saw Seamus and Neville on the stands with some of the other Gryffindors who weren’t interested in playing Quidditch.

Next, he made the chasers fly both offensively and defensively toward the goals, two on two, like he had done at the Burrow but without a keeper. Some of the hopefuls who had been good at catching and throwing were less stellar at playing defensively. Unsurprisingly, both Ginny and Katie were by far the most well-rounded, but a fourth-year girl, Demelza, who Harry had seen hanging out with Ginny before, was a small revelation herself. She wasn’t anywhere near Ginny or Katie’s level, but she seemed just to know where to be.

He made the four chasers who had the most accurate aim line up and called upon the Keepers to fly up to the hoops. The four chasers all had to shoot 3 penalties per keeper.

The first up was Ron. Harry had hoped that by now the stands would be more empty, but most of those that had been dismissed were still watching. Ron was looking decidedly more chagrined than he had been last night, which Harry didn’t think promised much.

Yet, Harry need not have worried. Spending the entire summer playing Quidditch had paid off and Ron stopped 10 out of the 12 shots on goal, only Ginny getting the better of him twice. Next up was a seventh-year, Cormac McLaggen, who Harry had met at the Slughorn lunch on the train. Harry had been getting increasingly annoyed with him. His entire attitude was just wrong. He seemed to be under the impression that he already had the position and kept trying to give Harry unsolicited advice. Ron and Ginny had done so too, of course, but they didn’t do it in a way that made Harry want to destroy something.

Luckily for Harry, the decision between Ron and McLaggen was made easy by Katie, who managed to also score, making it three goals together with Ginny who had scored twice again. McLaggen did not accept this result graciously. Cursing and ranting about the Chasers being more warmed up for try-out and that “the Weasley girl” did not try as hard when it was her brother keeping. This was a wrong thing to say, of course, because Ginny would never risk her winning chances for something as meaningless as familial relation. Well, when it comes to Quidditch that is, Harry thought. He didn’t think he had ever seen someone so driven.

Ginny herself was cursing McLaggen out something fierce, but Harry interrupted quickly. “Well, there’s always the reserve team, McLaggen. If you think you’re better than Ron, you can prove it during training.”

“The Reserve Team?” McLaggen demanded, affronted, but Harry had already walked off to watch the third keeper try-out, a rather large third-year named Blake Andrews, who managed to stop six shots, mostly through the length of his arms. He reminded Harry of Ron, he was all arms and legs it seemed.

Harry was quite certain about his teams already but decided to think about it some more while trying out Mia, who hurried over to him when he called her back from the stands.

He summoned a basket of golf balls and planned on making them shoot through the air for Mia to catch, which was made harder by the setting sun. Harry assumed he would have time to think about his teams because it would take some time for Mia to make the catches.

Boy, was he wrong.

As soon as he let the first golf ball fly, he was almost knocked over by the sheer force of Mia accelerating from a standstill position. She caught the ball before it even stopped climbing. Harry had to take a moment to understand what had just happened. Mia flew back to him and he took a good look at her. Her broom looked to be a brand-new Comet 290, which was a fast accelerating broom in and of itself but this was probably helped by the fact Mia weighed at most 80 pounds. He was most impressed by the fact that she had the grip to keep hold of her broom. This meant she might accelerate fast but it also meant that she would probably be blown off course with the slightest gust of wind, and it was wind still at the moment.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say when she approached him, making her blush. He made her turn her back and shot another golf ball into the air. This time she had a much harder time. She had the flying down to a tee but spotting a small object when she couldn’t follow its trajectory proved a bit too much.

“Well,” Harry said when Mia landed after about ten minutes of trying. “It seems I do not yet have to worry about my position on the team,” he said jokingly. Mia tried to smile.

“Okay,” he spoke up to the others who were still waiting for the final decision. He looked at them.

“Chasers for the first team are Ginny, Katie and Demelza. Dean, Sarah and James will be on the reserve team.” He waited a moment for the whoops and curses to die down. Sarah was a fourth-year, who Harry had seen hanging around with Romilda, but she showed promise. James was the older brother of that Harry kid that had been sorted into Gryffindor this year, he was a fourth-year also.

“Beaters for the first team will be Jimmy and Ritchie. Andrew and Jack will be on the reserve team.” He waited a moment for Andrew and Jack to express their unhappiness with that decision and then looked over at Ron.

“Ron will be Keeper for the First team, McLaggen will be on the reserve.” Before Ron or Blake could say anything about that decision, McLaggen roared “RESERVE TEAM? You honestly expect me to fly with these midgets?” he said pointing at Mia.

“Yes,” Harry deadpanned.

“Well, you can forget it! McGonagall will hear of this!” he said, and stomped away, as his dormmates all left with him. They all watched him go.

“Happy to see him go, happy to watch him leave,” Ginny said, making Katie and Demelza laugh. Dean didn’t look amused, and neither did Ron.

“Well, Blake,” Harry said, switching gears quickly. “You want to fly for the reserve team?”

“uh, sure!” the third-year said, seemingly unsure why what Ginny said was funny.

“Great! Okay, teams! Our first practice is Sunday morning. The first two or three weeks we’re only doing drills, after that we’ll start incorporating practice matches, okay?”

“Yes, captain!” Ginny and Katie yelled. Harry chuckled.

“Okay, great! See you Sunday!”

As the twelve Gryffindors walked off quietly or celebrated with each other, Harry walked up to Ron who was staring over the pitch. He clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Congratulations, Ron, I’m happy to have you on the team.”

“Thanks,” his friend muttered. This puzzled Harry, he’d have thought Ron would be happier. So did Lavender apparently, who was waiting with Parvati to congratulate Harry on the team and Ron on making the team. Once again, Ron shrugged off their congratulations and walked off once again in the mood he had been for the last couple of days.

Harry wondered what was up with that.

--In Her Memory--

The next day Harry and Ron waited to speak with Slughorn after their potions class. Harry had managed another great brew, with the help of his potions book, which he had now read in its entirety. He had not yet had the time to ask Slughorn about brewing the Animagus potions because of how incredibly tightly scheduled his days were. They had to be if he wanted to do all of his homework and his extra-curricular studies as well. Harry was well familiar with the stress, and this stress was way easier to deal with than the stress of last year. Last year he had been tormented by Voldemort while dealing with Umbridge, a student body of which over half thought he was crazy and while trying to study for his OWLs.

“Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, what can I do for you?” Slughorn asked them jovially when he spotted them.

“Hello, Professor. We wanted to ask you something, but erm,” Harry deliberately paused for a second. “We would appreciate it if you keep it a secret,” he said with a smile.

“Ohoh!” Slughorn said, looking happily intrigued. Well, as former head of Slytherin I guess he should like intrigue, Harry thought.

“You do realize, Harry, m’boy, that I have certain responsibilities as a professor?” Slughorn said, already trying to cover himself if he needed it. I wonder if he did the same with Voldemort, Harry wondered.

“That won’t be a problem, sir,” Ron said, “we have already discussed this with Professor McGonagall, and we have her support.”

“Good! Well, let’s hear it, boys!” As Harry had expected, Slughorn looked almost giddy at getting to learn a secret about the Boy-Who-Lived.

“You see, sir, Ron and I want to brew the Animagus potion and the potion is quite difficult to make, even for me,” Harry added, feeling wrong for saying it, “Also, I get the feeling that it is a potion that isn’t brewed that often. So, we hoped we could ask you for guidance?”

“The Animagus Potion, eh?” Slughorn said, contemplatively. “No wonder you went to Minerva for permission! I take it she’s willing to help you with the transformation part of the process?”

“Yes, sir,” Ron confirmed.

“Hmm, give me a minute, boys,” the Potion master said, as he walked to a bookcase that hadn’t been there when Snape was teaching potions. “You are in luck, I have brewed this potion once before. Just out of curiosity, you know, and to help a young transfiguration prodigy in her own studies.” He searched the case for a minute before pulling out a book with an exclamation of “Aha, here we go!”

He walked back over to Harry and Ron while leafing through the book until he found the recipe. “Yes, that’s right. The recipe is tremendously unique. It’s the only potion that uses biological matter from humans that isn’t frowned upon or seen as Dark.” The professor said, referring to the hair and the saliva Harry knew were working ingredients of the potion.

He looked up to the two boys. “You realize, this is an incredibly difficult potion to brew, beyond NEWT level?”

Harry nodded and said, “Yes, we do, which is why we hoped that you’d be willing to assist us. And we wouldn’t say no to some extra Potions credits either,” Harry added cheekily.

As it had before, his cheek paid off, as Slughorn guffawed loudly and shook his head merrily.

“Ah, Harry, it’s clear you have inherited more than your eyes and your potion skills from your mother!” Harry smiled but said nothing.

“Will you help us, professor?” Ron asked, a bit impatiently. Slughorn looked at him for a moment but smiled back at Harry a moment later.

“I don’t see why not. Surely, it is my responsibility as a professor to ensure the safety of students who want to try their hands at exceptional pieces of magic!”

This made Harry and Ron share a glance. Had a young Voldemort done the same thing Harry and Ron were doing now? Slughorn didn’t notice it.

“Have you already begun soaking the Mandrake leaves?” Slughorn questioned.

“Er, no, we haven’t professor. Actually, we were wondering why we couldn’t just store the leaf in a sealed container with some saliva?”

“That would be much easier, wouldn’t it?” Ron added, pulling a face.

“It would be easier, Mr Weasley, but it wouldn’t work. Surely, you realize, Harry, that it isn’t the saliva as much as the fact that the leaf is within your body for a month?” Slughorn asked.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Harry said, trying to sound like he had some big insight while he had no idea why that mattered. Slughorn looked at him for a moment before he smiled.

“Have you thought about how you are going to get the morning dew? Apothecaries don’t sell it,” he questioned.

“Yes, Hagrid is helping us with the morning dew.” Harry said.

“Good idea!” Slughorn said enthusiastically. “I really should go see him soon,” the professor muttered to himself. Harry and Ron looked at each other again, questioningly.

 “The Death’s-head Hawk Moth?” Slughorn continued.

“I’ll order it, the crystal phials, and the Mandrake leaves from the Apothecary,” Harry confirmed.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, I should have some Mandrake leaves in storage,” Slughorn said, walking over to the ingredient cupboard.

Harry and Ron decided to put the leaves in their mouths immediately. The bitter taste didn’t bode well for the next month. They needed to have the leave in their mouth for an entire lunar cycle, which meant that they could remove the leaves on Saturday the 12^th of October.

When they walked back to the common room to drop off their book bags before going down for dinner, Ron, trying to talk with the leaf in his mouth, remarked with difficulty: “Best not accidentally swallow this leaf, or your potion will taste like shit.”

Harry laughed so hard he almost suffocated on his leaf.

--In Her Memory--

The next morning, the dorm housing the 6^th-year Gryffindor boys was the arena for a lot of moaning and groaning. They had all joined Neville for a workout the previous day so Seamus, Dean, Ron, and Harry all woke up aching all over. Neville just laughed and joked that the next-morning-muscle-soreness was a rite of passage for those wanting to build some muscle.

Now, Harry had trouble even standing up as it felt like every muscle in his body was protesting anything other than lying down. And he was hungry. Last night’s dinner had not been enjoyable as everything tasted like Mandrake leaf. They also had to eat very carefully because they couldn’t afford to accidentally swallow the leaf with the rest of the food. Luckily, Harry had remembered a passage from Becoming the Beast Within: an astute analysis of active animagi by Deryn Pugh, in which one of the animagi had talked about their own issues with eating. They had eventually solved the issue by sticking the leaf to their palate with a sticking charm, which was a method Harry and Ron copied that same evening.

It was actually beneficial that Harry, Ron and Neville weren’t that good with their nonverbal disarming charms yet because they couldn’t move fast enough to do any duelling during their defence self-study period. They might have been annoyed with their slow progress but Tonks had explained that nonverbals worked according to what she called ‘the-ketchup-bottle-principle’: getting the first spell down nonverbally was difficult but after that, it would become much easier to do other spells nonverbally. Most of the Friday was spent doing their copious, and seemingly endless amounts of homework, except for when they had Charms and Herbology classes.

Harry had trouble concentrating on his homework because the second meeting of the DA would be that night and he was nervous to see how many people would show up. Ron and he had agreed that they would probably lose many of those that had stayed for the first meeting.

That night Harry opened the doors to let the prospective members in. There were about 40 people there who lined up to sign the 1996-1997 membership list. About half were original members of the DA and the other half were new members. Not all original members still at Hogwarts showed up: Cho, Marietta, and Michael didn’t renew their membership.

Harry also spotted a singular Slytherin-green tie in the group, a blonde girl who seemed friendly with Ginny and Luna. She probably was the Signe they had spoken of on the train ride. Harry also spotted Mia and James but was secretly happy that James’s little brother, Harry, wasn’t there.

As everyone took their place, he walked up the small stage.

“Welcome back, everyone! Before we start today, we need to decide on a new name. Does anyone have an idea?”

A subsection of the group looked at Ginny, who put up her hand.

“Ginny?”

“I have already talked with some people about this,” she said gesturing to the group around her, which included Dean, Luna, a frail-looking younger girl with a Ravenclaw tie, whose name Harry had just learned was Astoria, and a couple of others. Ginny smiled sadly and looked at Harry and then Ron.

“We would like to change the name to Hermione’s Army.”

Of course. Harry should have seen that coming. He was saved from responding, however, by Ginny herself who continued.

“I realize that for some of us,” she put her hands on the shoulders of the blonde Slytherin girl, who was sitting in front of her, “this might lead to some problems, so maybe we can just call it the H.A. and say it stands for Hogwarts Army?”

The Slytherin laughed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like no one’s going to see through that.”

“Would it be bad for you if we did call ourselves Hermione’s Army?” Neville questioned.

“Why are you even if here it that’s the case?” Ron said, a bit angrily.

Harry shot him a glance to tell him to back down.

The girl looked at Ron. “I’m just looking out for myself,” she said, in a manner that told them both that she wasn’t going to explain further.

A Hufflepuff named Roger, according to Harry’s membership list, spoke up next. “I never met Hermione, but I’ve heard she had some really weird ideas about House-Elves and such. Wouldn’t people assume we support those crazy ideas if we name ourselves after her? I’m just here to learn how to better defend myself,” he hastily added when Ron and Harry both looked quite angry at him.

Harry looked at Ron, he knew that Ron hadn’t supported S.P.E.W. but Harry couldn’t think about House-Elf rights without thinking about how happy Dobby was now that he was free. That gave him an idea.

“Would you be interested in exploring these ‘crazy ideas’ further, er… Roger, right?”

The boy nodded. “What do you mean by exploring further?”

Harry smiled. “I have a house-elf myself and I’m friends with a free house-elf. If you want I could call them both so you can question their experiences?”

“A free house-elf?” Roger questioned like he didn’t understand what that meant. “No, that’s okay. Like I said I’m here to learn to defend myself, I’m not interested in a Muggleborns’ political agenda.”

This wasn’t even that harsh of a thing to say, but the way he said it did sound a bit derogative. Dean, Ginny, Ron and Katie all turned around to defend Hermione but Harry was quick to silence everyone, even if he was beginning to become angry himself. But he thought, and was afraid, that this fourth year Hufflepuff was probably more representative of the Magical World than Harry and his friends were. That was just something they would have to deal with, he guessed.

“Well, does anyone have another idea?” he asked.

Whether because they had no ideas, they didn’t want to oppose an apparent unified front, or they just agreed, Harry would never know, but no one suggested a different name. So, it was decided. Dumbledore’s Army would be renamed Hermione’s Army.

Harry and Ron shared a quick moment between the two of them before they moved on with the meeting.

Harry introduced the idea of the layered system. They would just form smaller groups within the group so people could focus on multiple things at once. For example, Mia and two other second years would have trouble enough with the shield and disarming charms, as did Lily. But experienced members like Ginny and Luna had already cast Patronus charms last year so it made sense that they would work on something else. But in general, the idea was to help each other.

He was glad to see that the more experienced members did not have to be prodded into helping the less experienced members. Harry surveyed the practising members and saw Ginny helping Mia. He smiled fondly, it seemed that Ginny had taken a liking to the small girl, perhaps she saw something of herself in her. He also saw Luna practising with Lily but they both seemed distracted by something. Luna looked like she was studying Lily, whereas Lily shuffled her feet embarrassedly. She didn’t like attention. Meanwhile, Sophie was duelling Lavender, and Ron and Neville were practising their nonverbals again.

“Harry?” Parvati was walking up to him.

“Hi, Parvati, what’s up?”

“We’re starting with Healing next Tuesday right?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, Madam Pomfrey will be here next Tuesday, that’s the plan at least. As long as I don’t fall off my broom during Quidditch practise on Sunday.”

Parvati smiled wryly. “Great, I’ll tell the others.”

“Are there many people interested in Healing?” Harry asked. He wondered whether that was a popular job in the Magical World.

“Here? It’s just me and Leanne, as far as I know. I haven’t spoken to any of the below fifth years yet. You?”

“I think it is a good idea for me and Ron to know at least some healing spells, considering the amount of trouble we find ourselves in,” Harry said grimly.

Parvati looked over to where Ron and Neville were practising.

“Can I talk to you in private, for a second?” she asked quietly to Harry.

Harry swallowed a wave of panicked flashbacks to Cho away and nodded. They walked away a bit further and Harry asked the Room for some sort of room divider to keep them out of sight and then cast muffliato, a spell he had learned from the Half-Blood Prince’s book.

He looked at Parvati warily.

“Okay, so here’s the deal. We might be heading to a crisis,” Parvati said quickly.

“Crisis, why? What’s happening?” Harry’s mind immediately envisioned Death Eaters.

“Oh, nothing like that!” Parvati was quick to assuage that fear. “It’s more that, oh Lavender is going to hate me for this, “ she muttered. She breathed out forcefully.

“Okay, look. Lavender has this crush on Ron and she is trying to get his attention. However, I’m not sure whether Ron is in the right state of mind for that. He’s been looking moody in general and Lavender’s presence does not help, but Lavender thinks he’s just being shy or something.”

Harry removed his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes. He felt like he didn’t have the time to deal with teenage romance. Besides, Parvati had probably judged the situation correctly: Ron was most likely not in the right state of mind to be dating anyone.

“Okay, what do you want me to do about it?” he asked Parvati.

“I’m not sure we should do anything,” Parvati said, playing with a bracelet on her arm. “I honestly have no idea what to do.”

Well, if Parvati doesn’t know, how am I supposed to know what to do? Harry thought, dejectedly. “Maybe let’s just see what happens?” he suggested reluctantly.

“Shouldn’t we step in if we both think it’ll end badly?” Parvati asked. “Ugh, I hate not knowing what to do.”

“I’ll speak with Ginny, I’ll let you know what we think okay?”

“Sure,” Parvati, seemingly glad that a plan had been made.

With that, she made her way back to the others. Harry remained watching from a distance. Lavender had been practising with Padma, Hannah and Susan, but she had positioned herself in such a way she could look at Ron the entire time. Harry was glad to see she wasn’t as distracted as he might have expected. Sure, this was only the second meeting but most members took it very seriously, especially those who had known Hermione, of course. Even Roger was doing his best. Harry guessed he probably was a good kid overall, he just wasn’t very tactful, and that wasn’t a crime.

But his objection to the name Hermione’s Army did give Harry something to think about. He actually liked the idea of calling for Kreacher and Dobby and letting people hear their different experiences, but he wasn’t sure whether this would be the right venue for it. He’d have to think about that.

--In Her Memory--

The next week or so passed by slowly. Harry and Ron were inundated with homework, their defence self-study, studying healing magic, quidditch, HA meetings, and their workouts with their dorm mates. The first healing lesson with Madam Pomfrey was very interesting: they had discussed the use of non-healing spells, spells they already knew, for healing purposes.

Harry had talked with Ginny about Lavender’s crush on Ron. As they were the only two who knew the truth about both Ron and Hermione, they had a hushed discussion in the Common Room when Ron had made a mid-afternoon kitchen run on Sunday. They had decided to not do anything, hoping that the issue would resolve itself at some point. Harry had jokingly wondered whether he should warn Ron against tongue-invasions as that might dislodge the Mandrake leaf. Ginny was jealous that they had begun their process and said that she was thinking of doing it as a NEWT project as well.

Harry had also asked her about what Signe had said during the meeting on Friday, but Ginny just told him that Signe could take care of herself and he needn’t be worried. Harry had said he wasn’t particularly worried, he just wondered about internal Slytherin dynamics. Ginny had scoffed at this. “Like you wouldn’t want to save her if you could,” she had teased. Harry had denied this quite hotly. He didn’t want to say this to Ginny, but he felt he didn’t have that good of a success rate when it came to saving people. Sure, he had saved Ginny in second year, Sirius in third year, and Mr Weasley last year, but the deaths of Cedric, Hermione and Sirius outweighed those in his mind. He didn’t want to say that, because he didn’t want Ginny to try to convince him it wasn’t his fault. Because he still didn’t agree.

How could people praise him for saving Ginny or Mr Weasley, when they denied he was responsible for last year? After all, Hermione had figured out it was a Basilisk, which was the only reason Harry had figured that he needed to use Parseltongue to go down into the Chamber. Harry thought it was hypocritical to praise him for those actions, but not condemn him for others.

While Harry had tried hard and had managed, mostly, to turn these bad feelings into motivation, Ron was growing increasingly agitated, tired, and even sickly-looking. He had also started to complain about muscle aches. Harry and Ginny had both tried to say something but Ron just shrugged them off and went back to his studies. Harry had to give it to his friend, he was taking his studies exactly as serious as he had said he would during the summer.

The weekend also brought their first letters of the year. The Twins had written Harry to update him on their progress with the Instant-Letters. They had managed to create a scroll with extension charms so you could roll back the parchment to read previous messages, but they had now encountered another problem. The Doubling charm they were using to copy the message onto the other parchment was limited by distance, which was a big hindrance.

To his surprise, Harry had also received a letter from Fleur, who didn’t have any particularly interesting news but seemed to just want to stay in touch. Ginny had looked at him with furrowed brows when she saw the letter, but she just shrugged when Harry asked her what was up. Harry had written Fleur back, and asked for advice about the Ron/Lavender situation, in what he thought was abstractedly enough that she wouldn’t guess it was about Ron.

Ginny and Ron themselves had gotten some bad, but not completely unexpected news. Errol, the Weasley’s ancient owl had finally passed away sometime last week, which was why Mr and Mrs Weasley hadn’t written earlier. The letter was delivered by their new owl, who hadn’t been named yet. Ginny immediately suggested Owlfonso, which had made Harry laugh out loud. But he stopped when she threw a bread roll at him. Apparently, it hadn’t been a joke.

Ron immediately vowed to never let Ginny name any bird, as the great calamity that was Pigwidgeon had shown she couldn’t be trusted. Ginny had called him a great, big prat.

That they were now in their third week of the year at Hogwarts was becoming clear while wandering the corridors. It always took a while for the student body to hit their stride, so Harry wasn’t surprised when it took until that week to see some third year with pink antlers sprouting from his head running through a corridor, while his friends tried to keep up while laughing loudly. It was these kinds of spell mishaps that you saw at least once a fortnight when Hogwarts was in full swing. 

Harry himself had sort of a spell mishap himself when he, without thinking about it, cast one of the spells he had learned from the potion book. During their defence practice on Wednesday morning, getting fed up with failing to effectively cast a shield charm nonverbally, Harry had pointed his wand, thought “Liberacorpus!” and swiped his want horizontally to the right before curving it back into a C shape. Before he knew it Neville was upside down, hanging from his ankle. Ron had thought it was very funny, and though Harry felt sorry for Neville, he was glad to hear Ron laugh. Sadly for Neville, they didn’t have potions that day so Harry had to hurry back to their dorm to get his book for the counter curse.

When Ron told the story during dinner that night, Ginny and Luna weren’t amused. Ginny objected to the use of a spell written in a book by someone unknown and Luna objected to the use of unknown spells in general. Harry, remembering the way Luna’s mother had passed away, could understand both their points of view. Ron, on the other hand, grew silently angry by the girls’ reaction to his funny anecdote.

The HA meeting of Friday was a special occasion as it took place the day after Hermione would’ve turned seventeen. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville had worked together to write a letter to Hermione’s parents, detailing what knowing their daughter had meant for them.

The Friday meeting itself ended up being an impromptu memorial for Hermione. People shared stories and Luna showed up with a rather large painting she had apparently used the Room of Requirement to make. Like the one she had made for Ginny, this one didn’t move either. It pictured Hermione sitting in a lazy chair in front of a fireplace, absentmindedly twisting a lock of hair around her finger while reading a book. Harry was particularly taken with how Luna had captured the idea that he and Ron were sitting out of frame. There was nothing painted that directly indicated that this was the case, but somehow the painting managed to convey the feeling anyway.

She asked Ginny, Ron and Harry to hang the painting near Hermione’s favourite armchair in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry invited Luna to come up to hang the painting herself. Together with Ron held the painting in place while Luna cast a Permanent Sticking Charm.

Luna explained to Dean, who himself was rather good at drawing, that she chose a non-moving painting as a tribute to Hermione being a muggle-born. Next to him, Ginny was hugging Ron. Ron was staring a the painting, while Ginny was standing on a chair, whispering something in his ear.

After a minute or two, Harry had a sudden idea.

“Luna?”

Luna looked behind her from where she was talking to Lily. “Yes, Harry?” If Harry didn’t know better, he thought Luna looked annoyed at being asked something, but he wasn’t sure if Luna knew what annoyance was.

“I was just thinking, do you think Hermione’s parents would like a copy?”

“No, of course not. That’d be silly,” Luna said, staring at Harry like he had grown a second head.

“Oh. Er.. why would that be silly?” Harry wondered. Sure, he knew next to nothing of art but he was quite sure that people often had copies of famous paintings adorning their walls.

“Why would you want a copy when I could just make a new one?”

“With a duplication charm?” Harry guessed. This was the wrong answer as Luna looked as angry as Harry had ever seen her, which meant she only looked slightly disgruntled.

“You cannot simply copy art, Harry Potter. Could you copy magic if I asked you to?”

“No?” Harry responded, holding both his hands in an “I’m sorry” gesture. Luckily for him, Ginny intervened.

“Luna, I don’t think Harry knows a lot about art,” she said placatingly, making a calm down gesture with her hands.

Luna made a distinctly un-Luna-like noise and muttered: “Well, that’s obvious.”

“What Luna meant was that the process of creating art involves something which gives it its own kind of magic. Just copying it would lessen the value.” Lily spoke up suddenly, surprising Harry, who hadn’t known her to speak up. She promptly turned scarlet when people looked at her.

Luna smiled brightly at Lily and then cocked an eyebrow at Harry. “See, Lily gets it!”, she said and went to hug the girl.

Harry wasn’t sure he understood what Lily had said but he decided to just let it slide. He was interested to see Ginny hiding a smile while looking at the two blondes. He felt like he was missing something.

He was distracted by someone tugging on his sleeve. It was a sad-looking Dobby.

“Hello, Dobby,” Harry greeted him, “What’s up?”

“Hello, Harry Potter, sir!” the elf said, “Dobby knows what day it was yesterday, and Dobby wanted to give this to Harry Potter and his friends, sir.”

He clicked his finger and a couple of badly knitted woollen hats popped into existence. Harry didn’t recognize them, but Ron did. Immediately.

“Those are Hermione’s hats!” he exclaimed, grabbing one of them from the air. He held it in his hands and looked at it with a grim expression. Harry didn’t think it took a genius to guess what he was thinking about.

“Dobby hoped the hats could be added to the memorial,” the Elf said, looking up at the painting.

Harry looked too and then looked over at Ron.

“Sorry, could someone explain what the hats are?” Luna said, cocking her head to the left.

“Hermione made them to try to free the Hogwarts House-Elves, she would leave them in the common room at night, hidden and hoped they would stumble across them,” Harry explained.

“That’s stupid,” Luna said.

“Hermione wasn’t stupid!” Ron shot back angrily. Ginny put her hand on his shoulder.

Luna looked at him with her large eyes and explained her statement.

“Hermione had a problem with the lack of agency House Elves have. Her solution was to trick House Elves into getting freed, which meant they still had no choice. That’s stupid. Moreover,” she continued when Ron wanted to say something, “House Elves can’t be freed by students, right Dobby?” She looked at the Elf, still standing beside Harry.

“Yes, Miss Loony! Hogwarts House Elves can only be freed by the Headmaster!” the Elf confirmed.

“See?” Luna said to Ron, who was looking very angry indeed. Harry decided it was time to intervene.

“I’m sure we can put the hats somewhere, Dobby. Thank you.”

They stood under the painting for quite some time in their little group. Talking about this and that until they all went to bed.

Chapter Text

As busy as September had been for Harry and Ron, the month still wasn’t done with them. The last weekend of September was when Harry felt confident enough in his two Quidditch teams to try staging a time-limited practice game between the two.

The Quidditch season was young still, but Harry, Ginny and Ron, in one of their post-training meetings, agreed that the two-team system seemed to work. The two pairs of beaters were comparable in skill, which meant that they drove each other to greater heights. This was a side-effect that Harry hadn’t even considered. The other positions were not as competitive. Harry beat Mia every time, solely due to his ability to spot the snitch way before she did. But as Ginny had remarked, Mia only needed to be as good as Harry in two years or so, when Harry wouldn’t be at Hogwarts anymore. Ron, as always, was good when there was no crowd, and Blake was far from his level, if he even had the potential. When it came to the chasers, well, it wasn’t a surprise that Ginny, Katie and Demelza flew rings around Dean, Sarah and James. Ginny and Katie were great all-rounders, which allowed Demelza to focus on her best skill: being at the right place at the right time. It was just a question of improving Quaffle control. It also became clear quickly that she and Ginny had spent many hours talking Quidditch, as they seemed to instinctively know where each one was and would be.

Therefore, it was a surprise that the first training match ended the way it did. It was a combined effort between bad luck and lack of skill that fractured Ron’s shoulder. The Reserve team had been on the attack when Jimmy anticipated a pass toward James that didn’t happen. When James realized the Bludger was coming for him, he ducked and the iron ball shot over him, Ron. Ron had been watching Sarah and had noticed the bludger until it was too late. All Ron could do was turn his body so the ball hit his shoulder rather than his head. Harry had been forced to hand over the training to Ginny, while he took Ron to the Hospital wing.

This had also been the first time he had used some of his newly acquired healing skills, even if they were rather rudimentary. He had put a full body-bind on Ron so his fractured shoulder would not move and had then levitated him toward the Hospital Wing.

Bone fractures were relatively easy to heal, just a dose of Skele-gro would do the trick most of the time. However, as Madam Pomfrey examined Ron, she determined he was sleep-deprived and suffering from flu-like symptoms, so she made him stay for at least a day. Ron had complained under his breath about not having the time to lay in bed for a whole day.

Harry’s bad mood didn’t improve with his detention that night.

That’s why Harry was alone and in an even worse mood the next day, when he ran into Malfoy after dinner. Contrary to their many run-ins over the years, Malfoy was also alone and still looking extra pale. Harry cursed himself. He had promised himself to pay more attention to the Marauder’s Map but he had forgotten to check it that evening.

To make matters worse, Malfoy seemed to perk up as he laid eyes on Harry. Harry tried to ignore him but Malfoy slowed down as Harry approached.

“All alone, Potter? Where’s your ginger stooge? Finally decided to drop the other dead weight?” the blonde smirked. “Oh, wait, I know, I heard he stopped a bludger with his face because he thought it was the quaffle!”

Harry gritted his teeth. Five years of Hermione saying “ignore him” echoed through his brain and he managed to just walk by Malfoy, not saying anything. Malfoy didn’t like that.

“Don’t ignore your betters, Potter!” he spit when Harry passed by him.

Harry knew he shouldn’t but something made him do it nonetheless. He stopped and turned around.

“You know, Malfoy,” he began, smiling brightly, “I once read somewhere that you should never turn your back on someone you either respect, or you’re afraid of,” he said.

“That being said…” Harry said, trailing off to create some suspense. Then he simply turned his back on the blonde and walked away, with great pleasure. At least he tried to.

It was good that Mad-Eye wasn’t there, because Harry was quite sure he would have become deaf from how the ex-Auror would chew him out for turning his back on an armed opponent. Harry was probably only saved by the outraged yell Malfoy let loose before he sent the bludgeoning hex at Harry’s back. As it was, he had just enough time to dodge it, and he whirled around, wand in hand.

Before he could say anything, Malfoy threw another hex at him, one Harry didn’t know so he dodged it again.

“What’s the problem, Malfoy? Apparently, snitches aren’t the only thing you keep missing!”  

Malfoy sneered in return. “My goals in life are far more important than playing some stupid game, Potter.”

This took Harry by surprise, which Malfoy took advantage of immediately, as he wasted no time in yelling “secicaretrix!”. The spell hit Harry on the left cheek. Malfoy looked gleeful at having hit Harry. Wand still trained on him, Harry put his left hand on his cheek and it came back bloody.

“You like that, Scarhead? I thought I’d give you another!”

“Did your daddy teach you that spell before he was thrown in Azkaban?” Harry rebutted, scowling.

“At least he’s alive! In contrast to the Mudblood!” Malfoy shouted back, looking more than ever like he was going crazy, glee clear in his voice.

Harry had already begun casting when Malfoy also said something about Harry’s parents and Sirius. He wasn’t even sure what he had cast, but Malfoy retaliated almost immediately. His bludgeoning hex went wide, and Harry was in time with a shield for the second one. Harry shot back with a blasting curse that threw Malfoy against the wall.

The Slytherin got up quickly and shot a look of pure loathing at Harry. It seemed like Malfoy was gathering all his hatred for something, which gave Harry enough of an idea of what he was about to do to realize he better dodge or attack first. He chose the latter.

“CRUCI-“

“SECTUMSEMPRA” bellowed Harry, pointing his wand straight at Malfoy. He had no idea why he had chosen that particular spell, he hadn’t thought about it for at least two weeks now.

First, a cut to Malfoys left arm, then one to his leg, three to his chest, one to his other leg and the seventh to his stomach. Seven cuts started bleeding simultaneously. Malfoy dropped down.

Harry gasped an obscenity and ran up to Malfoy. The boy looked so pale, it looked like he was dead already. His pained gasps told a different story. Cursing under his breath, Harry tried to think of what to do. The cuts looked far too deep for him to heal but he wasn’t sure whether Malfoy would make it to the Hospital Wing.

Before he could come to some sort of decision, he was banished away, hitting the same wall Malfoy had. He looked up to see they were surrounded by people. Tonks was leaning over Malfoy, wand moving so fast it had become a blur.

“SOMEONE GET POMFREY, DUMBLEDORE OR SNAPE” she yelled. Harry looked on, frozen, from his position on the ground. He hadn’t meant to curse Malfoy like that!

“I know, Harry,” said a soft voice from behind him, and he felt a small, warm hand on his arm. He looked up into silvery-blue eyes, clearly visible surrounded by pale skin and blonde hair.

There were mysterious depths in those eyes.

Luna helped him get up. Harry was shaking quite badly and held onto her as they watched Snape wave his wand back and forth over Malfoy’s body. The blood that was still flowing from the cuts, stilled slowly and then seemed to retreat into Malfoy’s body.

Harry watched with fascination as the blood re-entered the boy’s left forearm, where the spell had also cut his robes. As he unwillingly looked closer he saw something dark on the skin there. Was it congealed blood? Before he could determine what it was, Snape had moved his body shielding Malfoy from Harry’s view.

“Harry?” Luna’s soft voice came from somewhere under his arm. “I think Professor Dumbledore wants you to go with him.”

And indeed, when Harry looked toward the Headmaster, he beckoned Harry to follow him, no twinkle to be found in his blue eyes.

--In Her Memory--

“Where did you learn of that spell, Harry?”

“It was written in the Potions book you gave me, sir.”

“Was it?”

A moment of silence.

“Did you know what it would do?”

“No sir, it only said it was to be used for ‘enemies’,” Harry said, retying his shoelaces so he wouldn’t have to look up and see the disappointment. He was disappointed in himself enough as it was.

“And do you consider Mr Malfoy to be your enemy?”

Harry did look up at that and frowned. “Well, he did start casting a Cruciatus curse, so I’m sure he considers me one,” he said.

The Headmaster sighed. “But do you consider him an enemy? I know you have had a fair few run-ins over the years.”

Harry looked away again. “I mean, he comes from a Death Eater family, and I have heard him say more than enough to know that he at least agrees with them. So, yes, I guess he is an enemy, isn’t he?”

Dumbledore sighed deeply, yet again. He looked older than Harry had ever noticed. “The world isn’t divided between Death Eaters and good people, Harry. There are many shades of grey in between, remember that.”

They went silent again.

“Can you explain to me exactly what happened, Harry? We can use the Pensieve if you like.”

Harry agreed and when they returned a couple of minutes later, Harry hesitatingly asked whether he’d be punished.

“Well,” the Headmaster began, “you did act in self-defence, even if you should have kept on walking. I will take points from Gryffindor for using an unknown spell, something which is always dangerous.”

Harry thought he was very lucky to be left off so easily.

--In Her Memory--

About an hour later, Harry found himself in an abandoned classroom. He had gone back to the common room but eventually, the staring got too much. It was clear that the other Gryffindors didn’t know quite what to say to him, partly because he had now lost 150 points for Gryffindor, making it quite clear they probably weren’t going to win the house cup that year. He had swung by the Hospital Wing, but Ron had been asleep.

Harry decided to try to lose himself in his homework, which wasn’t that hard at all. There was a lot of it. He couldn’t study the Animagus theory without Ron, so he focused on Charms and started making a plan to get better at Healing magic.

He stroked his left cheek where, thanks to Malfoys curse, he now had a new scar. Apparently, the curse Malfoy used was some sort of combination between a cutting curse and a scarification curse. The wound had healed almost instantly, but very badly, making sure a permanent scar would remain. It was a rather grizzly-looking scar as well, but Madam Pomfrey had said it would improve somewhat over time.

Harry wondered whether this scar would act like the one on his forehead did. His other scars weren’t the result of curses. The writing on the back of his hand didn’t tingle. The oval scar on his arm, where the basilisk had bitten him, didn’t hurt when he was near snakes. So, would this new scar do anything? Probably not.

His homework forgotten, Harry sat staring at and stroking the back of his hand.

“Knut for your thoughts?” a voice said and Harry jumped. He looked up to find Luna and Ginny sitting across from him. He had completely missed them coming into the classroom.

“Oh, hi.” Harry wasn’t necessarily happy to see the two girls. I remembered how ticked off they had been when he had used Liberacorpus on Neville without knowing what it did, and that spell had been harmless. Now he had almost killed someone with a spell he didn’t know. He just knew they would be angry with him.

They looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, can I help you with something…?”

Ginny and Luna looked at each other, something passing between them. Harry didn’t know what it was and it annoyed him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t use a spell if I don’t know what it does,” he snapped.

“We know you know, Harry,” Ginny said, “but we don’t know what happened. Will you tell us?”

Harry sighed and did so.

“Well, at least you had a counter to Malfoy using an Unforgivable,” Ginny said. “I can’t believe he tried to use one!”

“Maybe he wants to visit his father for a while,” Harry joked darkly, making Ginny laugh. Luna just smiled vaguely.

They spend the next half hour or so working on their homework. Having Ginny and Luna there helped Harry keep focused, even if Luna had a habit of muttering to herself under her breath. Harry caught some of her internal monologues and it was quite something.

“… they’re gurdyroot green!” she said at some point, apparently coming to some realization. Harry sneaked a glance at what she was doing, and it seemed she was writing a History of Magic essay. She had a couple of pages of notes laying on the tabletop and Harry got a headache just from looking at them. Some of the notes were written upside down, and he thought he even saw some that were written in mirror-script. It seemed to work for Luna though, even if she kept spinning the pages round and round. Sometimes she giggled when reading some of her own notes.

“hem-hem”

Harry startled and looked at Ginny who had performed her Umbridge impression. She smirked at him, but Harry didn’t think she was laughing at him just for his reaction to her impression.

“What?”

Ginny smiled innocently. “Do you have some spare parchment I can use?”

“Uh, sure, there should be some in my bookbag,” Harry offhandedly, already looking at his charms homework again.

A minute or so later, Ginny screamed and jumped out of her chair, sending it crashing unto the floor. Harry jumped up himself and pulled out his wand. Ginny had as well. She pointed it at the tabletop and yelled INCENDIO!

Flames flew from her wand and landed on the parchment she had been writing on. Parchment that looked familiar to Harry. A bit too familiar.

As realization dawned, Harry did the only thing he could think of to save the Marauder’s Map. He grabbed it and began slapping on it. To his great surprise, it worked like a charm. The flames died out quickly. Harry looked at the map in trepidation.

There were some tiny burns on the edges but the map seemed okay. As Harry looked at it, ink welled up from the parchment and began forming sentences. He read, his heart still racing.

“Mr Prongs presents his compliments to Mr Moony for his presentimental demand to add a Flame-Freezing Charm to the Map.”

“Mr Moony graciously accepts Mr Prongs’ compliments”

“Mr Wormtail wonders why someone would try to set the map on fire.”

“Mr Padfoot suspects a certain Snivellus is behind it.”

Harry chuckled but he stopped as a distraught Ginny slapped the map out of his hands.

 “What are you laughing at?!” she yelled distraughtly, and Harry was surprised to see she was close to tears. She was breathing harshly.

He picked up the Map and held it out to her, but Ginny backed away and looked at Harry, pleadingly. “What is that thing?” She asked in a trembling voice. “What is it, and why is writing back to me?” She turned to Luna, who hugged her.

Then it clicked for Harry. Ginny had accidentally mistaken the Marauders’ Map for spare parchment and had written some notes on it, only for the ink to disappear and the Marauders to write back. No wonder she had been spooked.

“Oh! No, Ginny, it’s nothing like the Diary! Nothing at all!” he was quick to try to assure her. She looked at him apprehensively, eyes still red.

Harry continued quickly, “Remember the Map I used last year to check for Umbridge after DA meetings? This is that map! But it is “off” so to say, which is why it looked like a spare bit of parchment.”

Ginny look him in the eyes and gave a small nod, turned back to Luna and hid her face in the blonde’s shoulder, her own shaking with her forcefully controlled breathing. Luna looked at Harry and asked: “Who created it?”

Harry smiled at her. “The map is called the Marauder’s Map and it was created by Messrs Moony, Padfoot and Prongs. And Wormtail,” he added in a lower voice.

Luna perked up. “Moony? As in Professor Lupin’s nickname?” Ginny disentangled herself from Luna and also looked curious if still a bit apprehensive.

“Yes, he, my dad and Sirius made the map with their then-friend Peter Pettigrew,” Harry explained. “They also put some other stuff in it because the Map insulted Snape when he tried to confiscate it during my third year.”

He looked at Ginny. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I should have explained the map to you way before now, but…”

“But, what?” Ginny said, raising an eyebrow.

Truth was, Ron had told Harry last year to not let Ginny use the map, as he didn’t want her to sneak off to private corridors with Michael Corner.

“But it just didn’t come up,” Harry said lamely instead, not wanting to throw Ron under the bus.

“Sure…” Ginny said, clearly not believing him.

“Look, let me show you,” said Harry, moving on quickly. “You put your wand against the parchment and say: “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Luna giggled. Ginny smiled half-heartedly.

He held the map out to Ginny and Luna and they watched as the map of Hogwarts slowly took shape on the parchment. Ginny looked at it warily, but Luna looked at it with clear interest. She reached out and Harry handed her the map.

She immediately turned it upside down. “Do you know how it works?”

Harry looked at Ginny and said: “No, but I do know it’s completely different from how the Diary worked.”

Ginny turned around and blanched a bit again. “You know… you know how the Diary worked? Why do you know that?”

Harry cursed himself. He had said it to try to put her mind at ease, but he should’ve known she would pick up on the wrong thing.

“Er.. I have been talking with Dumbledore…,” he said meekly.

“And what did he say?” Ginny said fiercely.

“Do you really want to know? Because we discussed whether to tell you but we thought you’d probably not want to be reminded of it,” Harry said.

This was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, you decided? You decided!” Ginny had skipped most of the Weasley warning signs and had jumped right into the yelling. “And how do you know what my decision would be!” she continued, accentuating her statement by poking him in the chest.

Harry put his hands up to prevent Ginny from bodily attacking him, as he wouldn’t be surprised if she did that. “You told me that you’d rather never talk about it again!” he retorted loudly.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him in a way that promised future retaliation. She pointed her finger in his face. “You… You!..”, she began, before making a growling sound. She turned around, grabbed her stuff and walked out of the classroom, still fuming.

Harry breathed out slowly, shook his head and looked over to Luna, who was prodding the Map with her wand. Harry couldn’t tell whether she had noticed anything of the spat.

She looked up.

“You know, Harry, Ginny says that I sometimes have a hard time understanding what goes on in others people's heads,” she began. Harry led the irony in that statement slide. Luna continued, “But even I realize that Ginny needs to be able to make her decisions, especially when it comes to the Diary. She really hates being told what to do, you know.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Harry puffed out, running his hand through his hair. Luna smiled at him and handed back the map.

--In Her Memory--

The next day was a Tuesday, and the first day of October. This meant that Professor McGonagall’s guest lecture on using transfiguration would be that night.

When Harry swung by the Hospital Wing to collect Ron, the first thing he did was inform his friend of what had happened last night. Ron had known something had happened as he had woken up when they brought Malfoy into the Hospital Wing. But he didn’t know what exactly.

He didn’t take it very well.

“He attacked you?!” he said angrily, stopping their walk to the Greenhouses. He turned and made to return to the Hospital Wing, most probably wanting to give the Slytherin a good trashing. Harry pulled him back.

“Ron, stop!”

Ron looked back at him angry. “Why? The arsehole tried to put you under the Cruciatius! We swore we wouldn’t take any shit from him this year!”

“Yeah, and I almost killed him!” Harry rebutted, “Don’t you think he’s been punished enough?”

Ron scoffed but relented. He frowned and looked out of a window.

“At least you have a good spell to use against Dolohov,” he said gruffly.

Harry didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure whether he would ever use the spell again, even against enemies. It just didn’t feel right. But he knew he’d have to kill Voldemort somehow, so Ron did have a point. But that did nothing to make him like it.

They continued their way to the greenhouses in silent contemplation.

“Did you get detention?” Ron asked, a floor lower. Harry shook his head.

“I showed Dumbledore my memory in the Pensieve. He said I acted in self-defence but he took points for the use of an unknown spell on another student, and the use of dark magic. I don’t think we’ll win the House Cup this year, I lost us too many points already.”

Ron sighed, “We’ll just have to settle for the Quidditch Cup, I guess,” he said with a put-on voice of great sadness. Harry laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Ron!”

“Oh, by the way, do you think Malfoy will make the match in November?”

“I’m not sure. He did say something about Quidditch being beneath him, I wonder what he meant by that?” Harry wondered aloud.

“No idea, mate.”

They walked out of Entrance Hall to see it was a beautiful autumn day. The forest was about halfway through its transition from green to orange, red and yellow. Ron breathed in deeply.

“I guess autumn is your favourite season?” Harry said.

Ron looked at him. “Who has a favourite season? Why would mine be autumn?”

Harry chuckled and pointed at the forest. “All Chudley Cannon colours, mate!”

Ron laughed and punched Harry in the arm.

--In Her Memory--

“Hello, and welcome to this special session of the HA! Like I announced last week, tonight we will have a guest lecture from none other than our Transfiguration professor, and head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall!”

Harry led the applause as he made way for McGonagall to step up onto the podium. The professor smiled at him but switched over to lecture mode as soon as she turned to the crowd.

“Good evening, everyone.

Some of you might think: ‘What does transfiguration have to do with duelling or defending oneself?’ The answer is quite simple. I have been informed that in a month or so, Professor Flitwick will be providing a guest lecture on duelling strategies. Most of these strategies are based on a very simple basic principle: spells can be used in many different ways.

Most of you will have done this already. The Disarming charm, Expelliarmus, is forever popular as a use to make someone drop something other than wands. Students have used the water-making spell, aguamenti, to wake up dorm mates for as long as the spell has been around. At the same time, while most people understand this instinctively, most will also not think of spells like aguamenti in combat situations.

One reason for this is a misconception about a category of spells referred to as Defensive Magic, which includes spells like the Shield-Charm, the Patronus-Charm and the Boggart-Banishing Charm. These spells certainly count as Defensive Magic but as the name indicates, all these spells are considered Charms. However, they are not taught in Charms class but rather in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The reason for this should be obvious: the spells are used to defend against magic or magical creatures.

So, the fact that Charms are used for duelling should not be surprising. However, the use of transfiguration and conjuration is less obvious. One reason for this is the difficulty of using Transfiguration and Conjuration in duelling. During your Hogwarts years, I will keep repeating that for Transfiguration and Conjurations to last, concentration, willpower and pacing of the casting are extremely important. This would make it seem like Transfiguration and Conjuration won’t help much in duelling, where you often have to react quickly to what is happening.

However, spells don’t necessarily have to last long in these situations. The transfiguration often doesn’t need to hold for long. With that in mind, who can think of some ways Transfiguration or Conjuration can be used in a duel?”

Harry put up his hand, he had wanted to ask McGonagall about something for a while now.

“Mr Potter?”

“Last year when the Headmaster fought Voldemort, he animated the Centaur that was part of the Statue in the Ministry of Magic. I assume that was some sort of Transfiguration?” Harry said.

Whispers broke out. People knew that Dumbledore and Voldemort had duelled but details were scarce as only Harry and the Headmaster had seen it happen.

Professor McGonagall smiled slightly. “Yes, the Headmaster is an accomplished Transfiguration master, of course, but I was hoping for some examples that are more feasible for us to try out. Mr Hughes?”

“You could try to transfigure the floor into ice or something? That way your opponent can’t move very easily,” Edward said. Harry knew he was the Ravenclaw prefect from Ginny and Luna’s year.

“Very good. Yes, Transfigurations can be used to distract and immobilize your opponents. Of course, one could also do this with a Leg-Locker Curse for example. When would you choose Transfiguration rather than curses or jinxes? Mr Boot?”

Terry cleared his throat. “Sometimes it is easier to transfigure a larger object like part of a floor rather than try to jinx a moving target.”

McGonagall nodded. “Indeed. However, besides distracting or immobilizing, transfiguration can also be used to attack and defend. Mr Finnegan?”

“Couldn’t you conjure a wall to hide behind?” Seamus suggested, which lead to chuckles and jokes about him being a coward.

McGonagall cleared her throat. “How many of you know of spells that can travel through walls?” she responded seriously. The boys stopped messing around. The professor continued. “Even more so, we all know there are certain spells that you cannot protect against with magic alone.” Her eyes swivelled meaningfully on Harry.

The members fell silent. Then Ernie spoke up, “You mean to say, we could survive a Killing Curse by simply conjuring a wall?” he said flabbergasted.

Harry could understand his confusion, as the Killing Curse was always described as something you couldn’t defend against. Harry could think of at least four ways by now: conjure a wall, have a brother-wand, sacrificial love magic, and of course simply dodging.

McGonagall nodded seriously. “As ‘simple’ as conjuring or transfiguring a wall is, of course. A witch or wizard sufficiently proficient in doing so would be able to stop a Killing Curse. However,” she said, looking around the classroom, “there is a very good reason why you should not rely on this strategy. Why is that? Ms Patil? Ms Padma, I mean.”

Padma, who Harry had seen taking the practices very seriously, smiled half-heartedly. “As you indicated yourself, professor, Transfiguration and Conjuration are schools of magic that are benefit from a slow approach to casting. Having to conjure a wall in a split second, you risk the wall becoming too flimsy and not giving enough protection.”

“Indeed, and also because conjuration is in general quite difficult and only NEWT transfiguration students will study it,” McGonagall said.

The lesson continued for a half-hour, with Professor McGonagall and the HA members exploring different ways to use Transfiguration for duelling. Harry was happy to see that the members seemed very interested and excited by this guest lecture, doubly so when they all went to practise with much eagerness.

Professor McGonagall had set them out to practise some of the examples she had given. Harry had asked the Room to provide with things like rocks and chairs and the like, so everyone had something to transfigure.

Of course, the problem with a lecture like this was that the younger members of the HA could not keep up at. Most of them could transfigure a water goblet into a bird but that wasn’t necessarily that beneficial. Katie had greater success. She had transfigured a tabletop into some sort of metal shield and was using it to defend against an onslaught of spells by her friend Leanne. This proved to be semi-successful. It worked against tripping jinxes and the like, but when Katie tried to shield herself from a Full Body-Bind curse the spell hit her as well.

Harry himself had chosen to focus on using Transfiguration as a distraction. He had blasted a tabletop to pieces and quickly transfigured the splinters into tacks, which he then proceeded to banish to surround Ron. Harry was trying to force Ron to go on the attack, but to his surprise, Ron just performed a Shield Charm. The stand-off lasted a couple of seconds before Harry decided to try to break through Ron’s charm.

To his surprise, this proved harder than he had assumed. It took so long that his transfiguration job on the tacks reversed itself, and not a second later Ron had jumped to the side and went on the attack. If not for Harry’s quick reflexes he’d have lost his wand right there.

In the end, Harry managed to win their duel with a well-timed, mid-dodge nonverbal Disarming Charm, which Ron hadn’t expected. He walked up to his best mate, handing him his wand back.

“Good job on that Shield Charm, Ron!” he said praisingly, “I did not expect you to try to wait out my transfiguration!”

Ron grinned back, “Congrats on that nonverbal mid-movement Expeliarmus! I guess our training’s paying off!” He clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Let’s do a round, eh?”

Their training had indeed been paying off. Harry could now do a Disarming Charm nonverbally almost without fail. Only if he lacked the proper time to prepare to cast it nonverbally it sometimes failed. Ron and Neville were also getting there. Harry wasn’t that surprised. Between the HA meetings and their own Defence practice, they were spending at least 5 hours a week duelling, besides their other homework. The other classes also encouraged nonverbal casting, so that part they practised all day, every day.

As Ron made his way to where the younger members were practising, Harry reflected on their first month back. September had seen Harry and Ron taking their studies far more serious than they had ever done before. With their classes, their self-study in Defense and Healing, Quidditch, Hermione’s Army meetings, homework, and the workouts they still did with Neville, Dean, and Seamus, they were very busy. Not to forget about the meetings with Dumbledore and their Animagus preparations, both of which didn’t take that much time for now but that would increase in the future. His next meeting would be that Saturday and the week after they could remove the Mandrake leaf.

They would spend the entire day working on the potion with Slughorn, which meant they would miss the first Hogsmeade weekend. But Harry wasn’t that bothered about missing it. The ingredients they needed, Harry had already received by Owl post. What they did still need was the dew, but Hagrid had promised to get them some that Friday.  

Harry looked around the room. McGonagall was walking around, giving tips on the use of transfiguration and Ron was still helping the younger members. Harry wasn’t quite sure that Ron was an effective teacher, but at least he wasn’t grumpy today. Harry frowned as he thought about his friend.

Over this month Ron had become increasingly grumpy and annoyed. He guessed it could just be lack of sleep, as Harry was well aware of the fact that Ron suffered from nightmares too. But his friend wasn’t used to it like Harry was. It wasn’t for nothing that Madame Pomfrey had made him stay in the Hospital Wing a day longer after the Quidditch accident.

That reminded Harry of what had happened yesterday between him and Malfoy. He scowled. Using such violence was really not in his nature, even if he seemed to find himself in situations that warranted it quite often. But did that mean that he had to ignore his nature for the battle to come? Or are there different ways to end a duel?

“Harry?”

Harry shook himself out of his reverie. Luna was standing next to him.

“Oh, hi, Luna, what’s up?”

Luna looked at him intently, raised her hand and brushed the scar on Harry’s left cheek. Harry didn’t particularly like being touched randomly, but he didn’t want to upset Luna, so he resisted backing away from her touch.

“I noticed this yesterday,” she said, “didn’t Madam Pomfrey heal it?”

Harry shook his head. “Malfoy used some sort of dark scarification curse, so I’m afraid it’s here to stay.” Harry had purposefully not looked into the mirror when washing his face that morning, it didn’t look good.

Luna brushed the scar again. “It makes you look like you attract a lot of Dabberblimps,” she said, while Harry took a step backwards.

“Dabberblimps?” Harry questioned. He hadn’t heard about these creatures yet.

Luna nodded with a smile. “Not to worry, Harry, Dabberblimbs are not like Wrackspurts or Nargles. They don’t cause anything but they do tend to hang around Gryffindors, I think they like the scarlet,” she whispered in a conspiratorial way to him.

Harry chuckled and switched gears. He nodded to where Dean and Ginny were practising.

“She’s probably still mad at me, right?”

Luna looked the same way but didn’t say anything.

“Luna?” Harry prodded after a couple of seconds.

Luna slowly looked at him and blink rapidly a couple of times. She looked at him quizzically.

“Ginny? She’s probably still mad at him, right?” Harry repeated his question.

“Oh!” Luna exclaimed, and she looked toward Ginny again. “You’re asking me? I don’t think anyone has ever asked me for relationship advice.”

“Relationship?” Harry spluttered but Luna just continued talking. “Ginny often jokes that she can hold a grudge better than Oliver Wood can catch a Quaffle.”

Harry took that to mean that, yes, she was still mad at him. He hadn’t expected anything else. So far as he was concerned, there was only one thing he could do to make it up to her. Luckily, he would see Dumbledore again that Saturday. He would propose a meeting with her and Dumbledore. And Ron too, Harry figured, because Ron knew everything already, so there was no real need to exclude him.

If only he’d be able to survive the quidditch training tomorrow with an annoyed Weasley on his team.

Chapter Text

Saturday evening after dinner, Harry once again made his way toward the Headmaster’s office. Because Harry had not yet managed to entice Slughorn into giving him the undoctored memory, he had thought of some other topics to discuss, including telling Ginny about the diary.

Harry made his way up the twisting staircase in the Headmaster’s Tower. He knocked and opened the door.

The Headmaster looked up from whatever he was studying and smiled. “Ah, good evening, Harry. Have a seat.”

“Good evening, sir, I hope you’re well?” Harry said as he sat down in the chair.

“Oh, as well as can be, I expect,” Dumbledore said, waving his blackened hand. “Now, Professor McGonagall has informed me that she enjoyed giving a guest lecture for Hermione’s Army,” he paused for a moment. “I must applaud you on your choice for a new name, but I wonder. The name suggests a more political approach…?” He trailed off and looked at Harry inquisitively.

Harry nodded. “Someone did say they were afraid the name suggests that all members agree with ‘a muggleborns political agenda’,” he said, making air quotes with his fingers, “which did give me the idea of inviting both Kreacher and Dobby to a meeting at one point. Most members will not have met a free elf before, of a house-elf at all, but I don’t think it is the right place to do that.”

Dumbledore made a contemplative noise. “Alas, to my regret, the Ministry of Magic has never been quite on board with the idea of a course on political discourse. I’m sure you have realized that many magical beings are quite steadfast in their beliefs.”

Harry thought back to Ron, and some of the more overt prejudices he had displayed. Even Hagrid, who Harry knew had had his own struggles with prejudice, had told Harry that all dark wizards came from Slytherin. He nodded and Dumbledore continued.

“They are steadfast because their ideas aren’t often challenged, and,” he said with a deep sigh, “after my many years on this earth, I must conclude that there are people out there that only think about what’s good for them. They choose what is easy, while we try to do what is right.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He had always seen Dumbledore as a beacon of positivity but maybe his views on the magical community weren’t actually that rose-coloured.

“On to the topic at hand,” Dumbledore said after a small silence. “How is the progress with Horace, Harry?”

“Well, he seems to quite like me. He has invited me to his Slug Club. I accepted.” Harry had indeed graciously accepted the invitation to the first Slugclub dinner of the year, even if he absolutely hated the idea. The means to an end, and all that. Slughorn had also planned it on a Thursday, which was one of the only days that Harry’s evening was always free. Well, not really free, of course, because he still had mountains of homework to complete.

“The world will appreciate the sacrifices you make, Harry,” Dumbledore said, his moustache twitching in amusement. Harry grinned back at him. Then he turned serious.

“I’m not sure whether you know, professor, but I won a small batch of Felix Felicis in Slughorn’s first class. I’ve been wondering whether I should use it for this task,” Harry admitted.

“Have you indeed?” Dumbledore stroked his beard. “Well, maybe as a last resort. But I suggest you keep it for later use, you never know what future event might warrant the use of such a powerful potion.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, especially considering there should be another way to get the memory. By flattery, I mean,” Harry clarified.

“It has come to my attention that you are doing more than just accepting dinner invitations to get into Horace’s good graces,” Dumbledore then said. When Harry looked confused, he continued. “Have you not asked Horace for help in brewing a certain potion?”

Harry shouldn’t be surprised, but he was nonetheless. “I know it’s useless to ask, but how do you know? I took Slughorn as someone that could keep a secret if asked to.”

“Oh, I whole-heartedly agree. Being Headmaster though, there’s almost nothing in this castle that goes unnoticed. Whether it is the portraits, the elves, or the ghosts, I have eyes everywhere,” the Headmaster said.

Harry didn’t know quite what to think of that. He then thought of something.

“Sir? You used to be a transfiguration professor, correct? Are you an Animagus?” he asked, genuinely curious what the answer was.

“Ah! Well, I must confess that I am not. But by choice, not by lack of skill, if I may humbly say so.”

“Do you know what animal you would be?” Harry asked, hoping it wasn’t too personal to ask.

“I do not,” the Headmaster said with a twinkle in his eye, “You see, I’d be terribly disappointed if I had to always be the same animal. I prefer this way, where I can change the animal I think I’d be every day. That way allows for much more freedom.”

Harry shook his head and chuckled.

Dumbledore turned serious again. “I invited you here just to ask about the progress with Professor Slughorn. I don’t have any news to share myself, so, unless you have something to discuss, I think we can call it a night.”

“Oh, I do have something I’d like to discuss. Multiple things, actually.”

“Do go on, my boy, don’t think I wanted to chase you away, I just rather thought you had more enjoyable things to do this evening than speak with an old man,” the Headmaster said.

Harry laughed at that, “Don’t worry, sir, otherwise I would have been doing homework with Ron. I prefer this, to be honest. Especially,” he said slowly, letting Dumbledore know that he wanted to say something serious, “because I would like Ron to join these meetings. He already knows everything, right? So, there is no real reason to exclude him.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I see no problem with that. Actually,” Dumbledore said, lifting his wand and waving it toward a door, “I stumbled across this book in my personal library last week that I think Mr Weasley would find interesting.” The door had opened and through it, a book came floating toward Harry. He plucked it out of mid-air.

It was an older book, entitled:  “Chess Lessons”. Harry wanted to scoff. Like Ron needed lessons in Chess! Then he looked closer. The subtitle read “Lessons we can learn from Chess”, which made more sense to Harry.

“The book is quite old, and muggle, but the author makes some interesting points about applying Chess strategies to real life,” Dumbledore explained.

“Wow! Thank you, Professor, I’m sure Ron will enjoy reading it!” Harry said enthusiastically. “That reminds me, I read the book you gave me, The Tales of Beedle the Bard?”

Harry had indeed read the book, he had to do something while lying in bed, not being able to sleep.

“And did you like the stories?” the Headmaster asked politely.

“They were fine, sir. That one story though, The Tale of The Three Brothers?” Dumbledore nodded. “I was thinking, if the three items were real, it would precisely be the sort of objects Voldemort would have wanted to use for Horcruxes, right? You seemed to be very interested in them, going by the number of notes you wrote in the margins.”

“If the Deathly Hallows were indeed real, I imagine that Lord Voldemort would be interested, to say the least. However, considering his background, I’m not sure whether he knows the story. And it is true, the Tale is one of my favourite stories from the collection.”

Harry sighed, “So that’s not a lead on a Horcrux, then? The Deathly Hallows aren’t real?”

Dumbledore looked out the window. “I think we should concentrate for now on the memory, Harry. That way we can have a firmer grasp on the number of Horcruxes we’re dealing with. If it turns out there are more than I anticipate we can come back to the Deathly Hallows.”

This didn’t completely add up to Harry. Had the book been only the gift that Dumbledore had said it had been? Surely there was more to it? He decided to think about it some more.

“Remember what I told you about Ginny during our last meeting?” Harry said, changing topics. “Well, the subject came up and she thoroughly chewed me out for deciding for her. She wants to at least be told enough to make a decision.”

“It that is her wish, we should honour it,” Dumbledore said. “Remember Harry, we should keep this information as secret as possible. I’m sure both Mr and Miss Weasley are trustworthy, but I would suggest not including any others.”

Harry nodded, he understood that.

The Headmaster continued, “For the sake of my limited time, I suggest we inform both Mr and Miss Weasley of what we know at the same time. I also rather think it’d be a good idea to have someone Miss Weasley feels very safe with, like Mr Weasley. I imagine the knowledge of what the Diary actually was, will come as a shock to her.”

Considering it had come as shock to Harry, he could imagine that Ginny would freak out.

“I’ll let you three know when our next meeting is per the usual way, Harry,” Dumbledore concluded.

Harry nodded. “There was one last thing I was wondering about, sir. As you know, Professor McGonagall gave a lecture on using transfiguration in duels and it reminded me of how you animated that statue in the Ministry of Magic. What spell was that?”

“Why do you ask, Harry?”

“I mean, it seems like a very useful spell, right?”

Dumbledore stalled by getting a sherbet lemon, offering Harry one as well. He looked thoughtful as he sucked on the sweet.

“It is indeed a very useful spell,” the Headmaster began eventually, “but one, I think is out of your league for now.”

“Oh?” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected this answer.

“Please do not take this the wrong way, Harry. You are a very gifted Wizard. There are very few witches and wizards that could manage a Patronus Charm when they’re only 13, let alone defend themselves against the number of Dementors that you did. No, the issue would be primarily with the Magical Theory behind a spell like this or its equivalents. Am I wrong in saying that you do not have an interest in Magical Theory?”

“Well, no, not really,” Harry admitted, “I’m more of a practical learner, I guess”

The Headmaster nodded. “And there is nothing wrong with that. I know you are probably wondering whether you can defeat Voldemort without the use of spells like these?”

Harry grimaced. He had been thinking along those lines. If he had to defeat Voldemort, it would take some serious spell work.

“Remember though, Harry, that the prophecy makes mention of ‘the power he knows not’ specifically.”

“I need to kill him with love?” Harry said sarcastically.

Dumbledore shot him an unimpressed look. “I only mean to say, there are other avenues than power and skill with a wand. I do not want to discourage you from the path you have chosen, I applaud the way you are taking your studies and training seriously. As there will probably be many more foes to defeat before you meet Voldemort for the last time, you’ll need all the practise you can have. But there is more than just spells and power.”

--In Her Memory--

The second week of October flew by. They had now been at Hogwarts for six weeks and Harry really began noticing some changes.

First of all, with all the training he and his dorm mates were doing, he had begun noticing some small changes in his body. Seamus didn’t always join but Dean and Ron did, Ron rather more reluctantly than Dean. Harry assumed that Ron would not have bothered if Harry hadn’t either.

With Ron now being included in the meetings with Dumbledore, the only two times that Harry and Ron weren’t together were when Harry had his detentions on Sunday evenings and when Ron had to do Prefect duties. Harry suspected that Parvati was doing most of their duties, however. He imagined Ron didn’t really see the point. The detentions for Snape would finish in three weeks. Harry wondered if he would ever start feeling annoyed with Ron’s constant presence.

The first three weeks of Harry’s October mainly centred around Slughorn. The second week of October, Ron and Harry had spent their Saturday morning in Slughorn’s private brewing room. With help from the Potions professor, they had managed to successfully brew the Animagus potion. They had stored the potions in a special potions-storage container Slughorn had lent them. The potion needed to be stored in a dark, and slightly cold environment, and the potion-storage container was designed to be charmed to duplicate a potion’s perfect storage environment. They now had to wait until the next thunderstorm, after which the potion would be ready. Until then they had to place their wands against their hearts every sunrise and sunset and say: “Amato Animo Animato Animagus”. According to their books, this incantation prepared their “being”, whatever that meant, for making a connection with an animal.

The third Thursday of October, was when the first dinner of the so-called ‘Slug Club’ took place. It was mostly a repeat of the lunch on the train, only with a shift in attendees. Neville hadn’t been invited back, something he had said he didn’t mind at all. There had been more people this time, maybe because the chambers Slughorn used could fit more people than the train compartment could. Most attendees Harry did not know. Ginny was there. McLaggen was also but they hadn’t talked ever since their dispute over Quidditch.

Ginny, of course, knew many people that had attended, even if she didn’t talk with all of them. Harry had noticed a pair of Slytherin girls, of which one seemed keen to not look at him or Ginny. Her sister had been observing everybody quietly and equally.

Slughorn had been very busy discouraging any discussion about the war. Harry thought this was quite stupid. How could the man expect that they wouldn’t talk about it? Disappearances, Dark Marks in the skies, Dementors on the loose, the Daily Prophet’s headlines were almost the same every day. It hadn’t yet become a daily occurrence, but students enjoying breakfast were now no longer surprised if someone burst out in tears after getting their post. Hannah Abbot had been taken out of Herbology last week to be told her mother had been found dead. Ginny had informed them that someone named Eloise Midgeon had been pulled from Hogwarts by her parents.

It wasn’t surprising therefore that the Ministry of Magic were keen to be seen doing something. But Harry was quite sure that arresting people like Stan Shunspike was not the way to go about it.

The news also had increased interest in Hermione’s Army. After Professor McGonagall’s guest lecture, there had been a small increase in membership, as people had talked about her lecture to their friends. Where they had started the year with 30 members, there was now a changing cast of about 45 people. Not everyone came every week, which Harry thought was unfortunate. There was nothing they could do about it though. Luckily, the hardcore part of the HA, mostly the old members of the DA, were there every night. They often helped teach the younger students basic skills like shields and disarming charms.

Harry was glad that more people were taking the war seriously, but he was also afraid that the meetings would grow too large. He liked being able to walk around and help people understand how duels in real life worked. Some people had begun showing up only for the classes on Healing Magic. Sadly, St. Mungo’s had been unable to spare people so Madam Pomfrey was on her own. She did her best, but often she had to cancel last-minute because of a spell- or potion mishap that happened that day.

Friday afternoon saw Harry, Ron and Neville doing their homework in one of the abandoned classrooms. Over time Neville had begun joining them more often. He hadn’t said it out loud but Harry supposed that he also had plans to take his studies more seriously this year. Ginny had always taken her studies seriously enough, and Luna was Luna, but Harry wasn’t surprised that all survivors of his stupid mistake had taken to studying harder.

Not everything with his group of friends was going great, however. Ron was still complaining about painful muscles, even taking a break from training with Neville had not helped, and he still had trouble sleeping. What didn’t help was the whole Lavender situation.

Harry had gotten a response from Fleur, who had written that Harry should not do anything, just be there for “his friend”. Fleur had drawn a smiling, winking face with that. Clearly, Harry hadn’t been circumspect enough for her not to realize he was talking about Ron. Either that, or she had thought Harry was talking about himself. Either way, he wrote her back, thanking her for her advice.

But Lavender was becoming more drastic in her approach toward Ron, and Ron either did not notice, or he was ignoring her. Harry supposed it was the former, as that would explain further why Ron’s mood was so bad.

Ginny wasn’t mad with him anymore, so that was good. It only took him apologizing and telling her that she’d be welcome to come to his next meeting with Dumbledore.

He had been carefully keeping a close eye on Luna, because he had noticed the girl had been even more distracted than usual lately. He didn’t see any signs that she was getting bullied again but he wanted to be sure. He had begun using the Marauders Map to keep an eye on his friends somewhat and he had noticed Luna often roamed the castle alone, seemingly not going anywhere. Maybe she was talking to the portraits again.

Harry dotted the last sentence he wrote and read through the concluding paragraph he had just written. They were now NEWT students, of course, and he had begun noticing it. The difficulty of his course work had increased steeply, especially on the theoretical side. Usually, his Charms and Transfiguration work was about equal, but now he and Ron were studying extra transfiguration he noticed that transfiguration was getting a bit easier, relatively speaking. In Transfiguration they were currently prepping human-transfiguration, like changing hair colour for starters. Like Remus had said this neatly overlapped with their Animagus studies.

Having finished his Transfiguration homework for next week, he put his quill down and sighed deeply, sinking lower down in his chair.

Neville looked up from his Herbology work and smirked at Harry. “Tired, mate?” Ron looked up as well.

Harry yawned, “Yeah, finally done with transfiguration! How are you coming on?” They usually divided tasks among each other. They still did the research they needed, but this way they could ask each other if they didn’t understand something.

Neville laughed. “You know I’m doing great when I’m doing Herbology,” he said. Ron stretched in his chair, “Almost done with Charms. Should we just go on with Potions, then?” he said.

Harry sighed. He knew they should but after seven weeks of being a good boy, he was getting the urge to just mess around for a while. Luckily he was saved from this industrious version of Ron, by the door opening and Luna walking in.

Harry frowned. Luna looked distinctly wind-swept, which indicated she had been outside, but she wasn’t wearing shoes or socks nor a jacket.

“Are you all right, Luna?” Neville asked, clearly having spotted the same.

“Oh, I am, thank you for asking, Neville. But this poor guy isn’t, I think!” She held out her hand, and Harry was surprised to see a small snake.

Ron, Harry and Neville shared a glance. Luna didn’t notice and continued.

“I think one of the Thestrals stepped on him! I found him at the Thestral Nest in any case, do you think you can help, Harry?” She looked at him with her great, big eyes.

“What makes you think I can help? You’re better off with Hagrid, right?” Harry said. Ron nodded.

“Well, of course,” Luna said, “Don’t you think I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t thought of that? But you can ask him what’s wrong!” Luna clearly thought her idea was brilliant. Harry was still trying to decipher her sentence: he wasn’t sure it made sense.

Luna came closer and held the snake up to him. “Ask him what’s wrong, Harry, please?” she said.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. He felt kind of put on the spot, being asked to speak Parseltongue like this.

He looked at the snake, which wasn’t moving very much at all. Harry wondered if the snake would even answer him. He looked closely and began speaking.

“Hello, how are you?” he hissed. Ron and Neville both moved, clearly feeling a bit at unease with the Parseltongue. Harry supposed it probably didn’t sound very nice, but he couldn’t hear what it sounded like. He just heard English.

The snake uncoiled itself very slowly and looked at Harry. “A speaker,” the snake hissed softly. “Where are we, speaker?”

“We’re in a Hogwarts classroom. My friend Luna brought you into the castle because she thinks you’re hurt. Are you?”

The snake turned around and slowly coiled itself around Luna’s wrist. “Hurt? No,” it said softly, “just cold” It coiled itself on Luna’s wrist for a second time.

“Uh, Harry, why is it doing that?” Neville asked, watching the snake carefully. Ron also had his wand in hand, ready to strike if the snake started squeezing.

“It isn’t hurt, Luna, it’s just cold,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh, of course!” Luna said, with a smile. With her free hand, she dug through her bag and pulled out a violently purple beanie. She took her wand in her hand, looked at it and cocked her hand. “Can you cast with your other hand?” she mumbled to herself, before shrugging and trying to cast a warming charm on the beanie. Then she pouted and held the beanie out to Ron.

“Warming charm, please?” she asked, her eyes still on the snake. Apparently, Luna couldn’t cast a warming charm with her non-wand arm. Harry made a mental note to check whether he could cast with his left hand.

Ron acquiesced. Luna looked at Harry and asked: “Could you tell him to let me go so I can put him somewhere warm?” Harry did so. As Luna lowered the snake into the warm beanie, Harry could hear the snake say, “Aah, that’s nice”. He laughed, making the others looking at him funny.

Luna sat down in a chair, holding the beanie with the snake in her arms and looked at it almost adoringly.

“Luna?” Neville asked after a moment, “Where are your shoes?”

“Did the Wrackspurts take them again?” Harry asked. He was afraid that he had somehow missed her being bullied again.

Luna looked up at them. “No, the Wrackspurts have been leaving me alone this year. I just felt like it was a good day to feel the grass on my feet you know?” she said dreamily, before looking back at the snake again.

“Aren’t your feet cold?”

“Yes, they are. Can you warm them up, please?” and without warning, she plopped her feet into Harry’s lap.

Ron and Neville both burst out laughing at the expression on Harry’s face. Harry just pulled his wand and cast a warm air charm, slowly warming up Luna’s feet until she pulled them back again.

They slowly got back to their homework again, Luna keeping them company. The snake made hissing noises that to Harry sounded almost like purring.

Twenty minutes later or so, Harry was distracted by the snake speaking to him.

“Speaker, what is the Fea-Human saying?”

Harry looked over at Luna, who was softly hissing at the snake in different ways. Harry could understand the Snake’s mistake. Luna did have an ethereal look to her with her pale skin, blonde hair and those blue-grey eyes.

“Luna, what are you doing?” he asked, making Ron and Neville look up.

“I’m trying to speak with my new friend! But I don’t think I’m getting it right,” she said with a great smile.

“You do know that you can’t learn Parseltongue, right?” Neville said with a raised eyebrow.

Luna looked at him with big eyes, her head cocked to the right. “Why not?”

“Isn’t it just descendants from Slytherin that can speak it?” Ron asked, looking at Harry, who shrugged. He didn’t feel the need to explain to Luna or Neville why he could speak it.

“But,” Luna said, looking at the ceiling in thought, “is it any different than Mermish? Or Gobbledegook? Or Troll? You can learn those languages, so why wouldn’t you be able to learn Parseltongue?”

The three boys looked at each other. But before they could say something, Luna continued, but mostly to herself. “I guess that humans don’t just speak Troll, like how Harry Potter just speaks Parseltongue,” she said. She turned to him. “You didn’t study Parseltongue when you were younger, Harry?”

Harry chuckled. “No, I most certainly did not.” Luna turned a quarter in her chair, so she was now facing Harry. She looked at him expectantly. “How do you say ‘hello’ in Parseltongue?”

Harry blinked and said: “Hello?”

There was a moment of silence before Ron and Neville burst out laughing. Harry grinned self-consciously. “English, I take it?”

Luna nodded. “I already know English she said seriously, or rather Harry thought she was serious. It was always hard to tell with her.

“Okay, let me try again.” This time he looked at the snake intently before trying. “Hello,” he hissed. The snake looked up and seemed puzzled. “Greetings?” it hissed back.

“Can you do it once again?” Luna asked, closing her eyes.

“Sure, hello,” Harry obliged.

Luna hissed, “no, wait,” she said and tried again, and again but nothing happened. “Okay, maybe it is not quite the same as Troll or Goobledegook…” she said trailing off and sounding a bit sad. Then she brightened up. “That means it’s a research project!” she said happily, standing up, carrying the snake in the hat like on her arm like it was a baby.

“Thank you, Harry!” she said, walking out of the door. Probably going to the library, Harry guessed.

“Did she… did she take the snake with her?” Ron asked, sounding nonplussed.

A high-pitched scream of fright from outside confirmed to them that she had indeed. They laughed, shook their heads and went back to their homework.

- In Her Memory -

The next day was a Hogsmeade Saturday and it brought forth two events that had the Hogwarts rumour mill working overtime for the next couple of weeks.

The first was the cursing of Katie Bell. According to her friend Leanne, she had gone to the lavatory in the Three Broomsticks before returning with a package. On the way back to Hogwarts they had gotten into a scuffle over the package, as Leanne did not trust the situation. During the scuffle, the wrapping paper had slipped and Katie had touched the cursed necklace through a small hole in her glove. She was currently in St. Mungo’s, and it was only luck that Hagrid had been nearby. He had picked her up and brought her to the castle, as fast as he could. Which was considerable, considering the amount of ground he could cover with a single step.

Katie’s near-death experience did mean that she would be hospitalized for months, so Harry would be forced to play a chaser from the reserve team in their first match against Slytherin. Luckily, they still had three weeks to work out all the kinks in their play. The real question for Harry was to decide whether Dean, Sarah, or James would take over Katie’s starting position. They all had their strengths and weakness, so Harry had planned to sit down with Ginny and Demelza to figure out who would be the best fit.

The other event that had sent the Hogwarts rumour mill into overdrive, was of a more joyous nature. To Harry and Ron’s great surprise, but not to Ginny’s, Luna and Lily had gone on a date together. Harry assumed that partly explained why both of them had seemed distracted at some of the HA meetings. Harry had had no idea that Luna was gay, but when he said so to Ginny, she laughed at him.

“Do you honestly think Luna cares about something ‘so superficial’ as what someone looks like or has between their legs?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. The blunt way she said it had made Harry snort his pumpkin juice out of his nose, especially because she was clearly quoting a conversation she had had with Luna.

The week after the Hogsmeade weekend, the first evacuation drill of the year happened. The evacuation goals were their respective common rooms. Apparently, these were the most secure places in the castle. Not only because of the password protection, and semi-hidden locations, but also because the walls surrounding had layers upon layers of protective wards, charms and other sorts of spells. To facilitate safe passage toward the common rooms, Dumbledore, with help from Flitwick, had re-established some ancient shortcuts. These shortcuts had been dormant since the last war, and the House Elves and Filch had spent days cleaning them. Those students hoping they could use the emergency shortcuts in such emergencies as being late for Transfiguration or Potions had been disappointed. The entrances only appeared when the Headmaster started the emergency protocol.

That Friday, during the HA meeting, Luna came to him and told him that she had gotten a special exemption from the Headmaster and her Head of House, Flitwick, to keep the Snake in a specially made terrarium in Ravenclaw Tower. This was because she had managed to convince Professor Babbling of Ancient Runes to grant her the opportunity to try to transcribe Parseltongue. Her research had concluded that speaking Parseltongue was an innate skill, but that it was likely possible to create a written language to represent the spoken one. Professor Babbling had said that there had been rumours for centuries that there was a Parsel Runic Alphabet, but because the use of the language was so limited and looked down upon, there was no hard proof of it.

In order to complete her project, Luna told Harry that she needed his help eventually. However, before she got that far, there were a lot of hurdles to overcome. She needed to find a way to create a Quill that would transcribe the users’ speech not in words but into sounds, using something called a phonetic alphabet. Her father had a lot of Quick-Quotes Quills around the house, so her initial plan was to try to update the existing versions. She also had plans for afterwards. Having made the Rune Alphabet she would then proceed to try to create a dictionary and create something that could say the word out loud in Parseltongue. That way even non-Parseltongue speakers could communicate with snakes. She was probably going to try to use a Howler as a basis, as she said she had much experience with writing and using a Howler, which puzzled Harry. He couldn’t see Luna send anyone a Howler.

Harry thought this whole idea was probably a bit overly ambitious, but he saw no reason to tell Luna so.

The rest of October passed by relatively quietly, as far as that was possible at Hogwarts. Thursday was Halloween, and for the second year in a row, nothing bad happened to Harry. He was glad that he could enjoy Halloween for a change, joking to Ron that everything else was messed up enough that Halloween didn’t have to try.

The start of November saw Flitwick give his guest lecture to the HA on the first Friday of the month.  

Where Professor McGonagall had talked to the HA about using Transfiguration in defensive and offensive manners, Flitwick spoke about the creative use of known spells. To show what he meant he had called upon Harry to perform a mock duel and had promptly summoned Harry’s glasses off his face. With Harry’s eyesight being as bad as it was, this left him almost defenceless.

But Flitwick had more tricks up his sleeve. He talked about a whole scope of duelling tactics like minimizing casting time by trying to minimize wand movement. He showed an example by Disarming Harry nonverbally but seemingly without moving his wand. He got the laughs on his hand by demonstrating the difference between his efficient casting, and a very flamboyant and exaggerated way of casting that Harry took to be a spoof of the way Lockhart had done it in their second year duelling club.

As with the McGonagall guess lesson, the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Also, due to that feedback following McGonagall’s lesson, Flitwick’s guest lesson had the second-highest turnout, after the first session that year.

This was fun, because, after eight weeks or so, their Friday sessions had organically moved to become sort of an end-of-the-week party after they finished up with their session. People often stayed around for an hour, sometimes longer, just talking with each other, joking around. Harry often called on Dobby to supply the group with butterbeer. Dobby in turn often asked Kreacher for help, as the younger Elf felt it be good for Kreacher to have more contact with Harry. The first time Kreacher had popped into the Room, he had promptly ignored Harry, too much amusement of some of the HA members. Harry did notice that Kreacher looked a bit cleaner and healthier. Working alongside the Hogwarts Elves seemed to do him good.

When Harry woke up for the second time that Saturday, he woke up with the excited nerves that could only come with playing Quidditch. Ron and he had already woken up an hour or two earlier, to perform the chanting part of the Animagus transformation, and had fallen back asleep immediately after. It was their first match of the season, and as was tradition, it would be against Slytherin. He was interested to see their team and had heard rumours that Malfoy wasn’t playing. Not even because he was still hurt from their duel, but apparently he just decided to not play this year. This would give credence to what the Slytherin had told Harry during their duel. But Harry wasn’t sure whether that was true or whether it was a ruse. He got out of bed and was greeted by the sound of Ron softly saying “oh no, oh no, oh no…”

“Ron, you okay, mate?” Harry asked carefully.

Ron’s pale and slightly green face made its way through his curtains. He swallowed heavily and looked at Harry earnestly. “I don’t think I can do this, Harry,” he said, quite pitifully, Harry thought.

“Great,” Harry thought. He sat down on his bed and thought about it for a moment. Maybe Ginny could help? She probably could, but the problem was that he wasn’t sure she was awake yet. He looked over Dean’s bed. They had decided to play Dean this game because Harry, Ginny and Ron all assumed that the Slytherins would play rough and Dean just had more weight to throw around himself. He would also probably be less intimidated by their playstyle than Sarah or James would be.

Harry dressed in his Quidditch robes quickly and said to Ron: “I’ll be back, Ron!”

He walked down the stairs, thinking about what to do. He could threaten to play Blake instead of Ron, because Ron might like to whine about playing, he wouldn’t take that lying down. Another last-ditch effort would be to try to trick Ron into thinking he had given him Felix Felicis, but he wasn’t sure whether Ron would be happy with using the potion this way. The most likely successful way was to let Ginny yell some sense into her brother.

He waited in the common room, deciding against channelling Oliver Wood and storming into the third and fourth-year boy’s dorm rooms to wake up Jimmy and Ritchie. After a half-hour or so Ginny made her way downstairs, looking very much awake indeed. He saw the same fire in her eyes he had seen during the try-outs. He marvelled for a second about the different ways the Weasley children handled nerves. The Twins had always become even more of a chaotic force of nature, while Ron tended to want to hide. Ginny transformed her nervous energy into sheer determination.

“Good morning, Captain Potter!” she said as a way of greeting, “Where are Dean and Ron?” she then asked suspiciously. Harry assumed it was weird to see him there alone.

“Dean’s still asleep I think, Ron has decided he can’t play today,” he said simply.

Ginny narrowed her eyes, put her hand on her hips, distinctly Mrs Weasley-like, and said “We’ll see about that!” She turned around and climbed the stairs to the sixth-year boys’ dorm. 

Harry hoped for their sakes that Dean was awake and that Ron had decided he could deal with his nerves because he wouldn’t have liked to be either of them at that moment.

Chapter Text

“Setting my sister on me was low, Potter,” Ron said, his wide grin telling a different story. They were walking back to the Gryffindor common room, their spirits high. They had slaughtered Slytherin something fierce. Harry’s first game as Captain couldn’t have gone better. Sure, this was partly due to the fact that Malfoy had indeed not played, and the fact that Slytherin starting chaser Vaisey had been injured and also couldn’t play. The new Seeker hadn’t been a match for Harry and whatever Ginny had done, or had threatened to do, to Ron and Dean, it had certainly helped. Ginny had outscored the Slytherin team by herself, resulting in an easy 250 to 40 win. But Ron played a great game and Dean looked like he had been playing for years.

With the entire team in tow, Harry led the way to the party. Ginny was limping slightly because she had purposefully crashed into the commentator stand, where Zacharias Smith had been an annoying twat for the entire length of the game. While Harry commended her for shutting up Smith, he wished she hadn’t done it in a way that messed up her ankle again.

Nevertheless grinning widely, he led the team through the portrait of the Fat Lady into a raucous pre-party. The room exploded with cheers when the team came in and Harry received enough shoulder pats and stomps to last him a lifetime but he found he didn’t mind at all.

An hour or so into the party Harry sat on a couch with a butterbeer in his hand, feeling like he was in the eye of a storm. All around him people were mingling and laughing but he had been left alone for a minute or so and took the time to just observe the moment. To his right, in a corner, some second-years were laughing with each other. Mia, his reserve seeker was there with Beatrice Spinnet, Alicia Spinnet’s younger sister, in an energetic conversation with two boys whose names Harry thought were Leif and Mijan. A couple of steps removed was his reserve keeper Blake, shyly talking with a third-year girl whose name Harry didn’t know.

He looked to his left side and was surprised to see Luna talking with Lily and Sophie. Mostly Lily though, as Sophie seemed to not contribute to the conversation. She seemed to just be happy observing the two girls. Harry had no idea how Luna had gotten into the Gryffindor common room but he suspected either Ginny or Lily, or possibly both, had let her in. Hidden away in an alcove Dean and Ginny were snogging, quite furiously if you asked Harry. He frowned, surely this was a bit much?

He shrugged internally and looked away and spotted Ron, Lavender and Parvati. Ron was red-faced and Lavender looked close to tears, Parvati giving her a one-armed hug while looking sadly at Ron. As he watched, Ron stood up and walked out of the common room.

Harry stood up and made his way over to them, giving a wide berth to where Seamus was acting as self-appointed wingman for Neville. They were currently talking to some of Ginny’s dormmates. Neville looked a bit embarrassed but he hadn’t walked away yet. The girls just looked amused at Seamus’ antics.

Harry made his way out of the common room but couldn’t see Ron anywhere, so he made his way back to get the Map, and the Cloak. As he walked toward the staircase, he was accosted by the black-haired girl from the train, Romilda Vane.

“Hello, Harry!” she said with a saucy smile. Harry grumbled a hello back and quickly walked past her, feeling her glare on his neck.

He grabbed his cloak and map. He opened the door to his dorm to walk back out again but stopped for a moment. He decided against going down visible, and instead, put on the invisibility cloak. This turned out to be a great idea, as he saw Romilda Vane standing at the bottom of the staircase, watching it like a hawk looking for a tasty treat. He cast a muffling charm on his feet and stealthily descended the staircase and sneaked past Romilda.

Of course, being invisible in a party atmosphere proved to be very difficult. Multiple times people looked at where he was, to then just shrug off whatever they had seen, heard or sensed.

He safely made his way out of the common room walked around a corner and removed the cloak. He opened the map and started looking for Ron. The last time he had to find his friend, he’d been in the Room of Requirement. The room didn’t show up on the map but he looked anyway. His eye narrowed at the name he saw hanging around in the corridor. It was Goyle.

Harry stared at the little figurine representing Goyle and thought hard. Why was Goyle alone? And why was he in the corridor that held the Room of Requirement? Harry and Ron had made the conscious decision to not give away too much information about how the Room worked. Therefore, he wasn’t sure that Goyle and Crabbe, and by extension Malfoy, knew about the room. Either way, it was suspicious.

Considering that the last time Ron had isolated himself he had eaten himself almost sick on snacks, Harry figured he might be in the kitchens. The map confirmed that idea and so he made his way there.

He entered the kitchens, seeing the five tables laid out in the same way they were in the Great Hall. Ron was sitting halfway on the nearest side of what would be the Gryffindor table, right where he, Harry and Hermione most often sat.

Harry sighed, gathering this wasn’t a good sign.

He made his way over, shaking his head at an elf asking if they could help. He sat down on what would’ve been his seat, making sure he didn’t sit where Hermione would have sat.

“You okay, mate?” he asked softly, “What happened?”

Ron didn’t look at him but kept staring at the table.

“She tried to kiss me. Lavender tried to kiss me,” Ron said. He spoke softly, completely devoid of his usual tone of voice.

“You didn’t kiss her back, then?” Harry asked carefully.

Ron just gave him a fleeting glare that clearly said of course not, you idiot.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, until two mugs of hot chocolate floated their way. They looked up and saw Dobby, who waved. Harry waved back with a thankful smile and gave one of the mugs to Ron.

Ron stared at his mug. “Hermione didn’t like hot chocolate,” he muttered morosely. He turned his mug this way and that but didn’t drink. “She didn’t like stuff with too much sugar.”

Harry knew this of course but thought it better not to mention that. Ron probably just wanted to talk about Hermione for a bit.

“That’s what you get when your parents are dentists, I guess,” Harry said.

Ron grunted, it could’ve been affirmative, it could’ve been hiding a sob.

Harry thought this might situation warranted for something stronger to drink than just hot chocolate. He waved at Dobby and asked him for something alcoholic that would be great to drink with hot chocolate. Dobby popped away and a bottle of Baileys appeared. Harry grabbed it and poured some into the hot chocolate.

Harry slowly drank, as did Ron eventually. Harry didn’t quite know what to say or do. Maybe he didn’t need to. Then Ron groaned loudly and pulled at his hair.

“This is all so fucked up,” he said through gritted teeth.

Harry couldn’t agree more, but he was at this point quite used to things being fucked up.

“There is only one thing we can do,” he said gravely, putting on a very serious tone of voice.

Ron looked up in surprise, “What?” he whispered.

“We are going to un-fuck things,” Harry deadpanned.

Ron snorted loudly. “Bloody hell, that’s bad,” he said, a fleeting smile making its way unto his face.

Harry just shrugged with a smirk, then continued. “No, but seriously. This is why we’re training and studying. To make sure that this shit will never happen to anyone else.”

Ron sighed. “Yeah, I know, but sometimes I just wish that we didn’t need to, you know,” he pouted, clearly understanding that was a moot point to complain about.

“You don’t have to tell me, mate,” Harry responded. “Now, what are you going to do with Lavender?”

Ron scowled. “Nothing.”

“Did you say anything to her?” Harry questioned.

Ron shook his head. “No, I just walked away, I kind of panicked to be honest.”

Harry nodded. “I can understand that. I had to use the cloak to escape Romilda Vane,”

Ron smiled half-heartedly. “Don’t let Ginny hear that,” he warned, “Otherwise Vane will suffer some bat-bogeys.”

Harry shrugged. He wondered what Ginny would say to Ron at this moment. Would she say something about Hermione wanting Ron to be happy? Harry tried to picture himself in Ron’s position. Would he want to get with another girl, if the girl he had loved had passed away? Both of them hadn’t known about the other’s feelings, so it wasn’t like he would betray her trust or something like that. On the other hand, that would probably be exactly what it would feel like. At least, Harry would feel like it would have besmirched the memory of her, whoever she would’ve been. At the same time, he wouldn’t be angry with Ron had he decided to get with Lavender.

“Just know that I’ll support you, whatever you choose to do,” Harry said seriously, wanting Ron to understand that.

Ron just nodded, not saying anything.

They were then interrupted by a pop and a distraught-looking Kreacher.

“Burglars in the Noble House of Black, oh how mistress will weep! String them up by their ankles, we should! This is what happens when Masters invites lowlifes and Mudbloods and blood-traitors into the Noble House of Black…”

Before he could ramble anymore, Harry interrupted. “Kreacher, is somebody stealing from Grimmauld Place?” he asked hurriedly.

Kreacher pulled his ear and croaked, “Master told Kreacher to stay at Hogwarts, Kreacher wants to protect the Noble House of Black but can’t.”

“Is somebody in the house right now?” Harry asked, hurriedly. Kreacher shook his head. “How do you know?” Harry continued.

“Kreacher always knows, oh yes,” Kreacher muttered.

Harry scratched the back of his head and look over at Ron. “What do you think I should do?”

“You want to keep Kreacher at Hogwarts?” Ron asked, thinking hard. Harry nodded.

“Just tell him to go back to Grimmauld Place if he senses an intruder,” Ron shrugged.

“Right,” Harry nodded, “Kreacher, I want you to inform me and go to Grimmauld Place to protect it if you sense an intruder. Then come back and tell me who it was or what was stolen, all right? Then you can go back to working with the Hogwarts elves. Is that clear?”

“Yes, master. Can Kreacher attack the vermin?” the Elf said, a bit too eagerly in Harry’s opinion.

“Can you capture them and bring them to Aurors?” Harry suggested instead.

Kreacher scowled. “Yes, Master,” he said petulantly, and he popped away again.

“Are you okay, mate?” Ron asked quietly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ron raised one back, “Because someone’s stealing your stuff?”

Oh, right, Harry thought. It was his stuff now. He sighed, “I’ll ask Dumbledore what to do, I guess.”

“Right, always a good idea,” Ron nodded.

Sometime later, they walked out of the kitchens together and in silence. The discussion with Kreacher had reminded Harry that it was Sirius's birthday tomorrow, November third. His godfather would’ve turned 37 if he’d still been alive. In combination with just having had Halloween, this left him in a sombre mood.

The joyful feeling of winning his first Quidditch game as Captain now completely gone, Harry pulled the cloak over him and Ron, they both had to duck to prevent their feet from showing, and silently they made their way through the afterparty, up to their dormitory.

-- In her memory –

The next evening, after dinner, Harry took advantage of his first free Sunday evening of that school year. With that day being Sirius’ first birthday since the Department of Mysteries, he had fallen into melancholy. He was grieving, he knew that, but was also scolding himself. The last eight weeks he had mainly grieved Hermione, at least that was what it felt like, and he blamed himself for not thinking about his godfather as much. He did realize he had known Hermione much better, so maybe it made sense, but still.

Not really wanting to speak to anybody, he told Ron that he was going to take a walk. It took some time to convince Ron that he’d be fine alone, at the same time making sure that Ron would be as well. He wandered around the castle, looking at the different portraits, and always keeping an eye on the map. He didn’t fancy running into Malfoy again.

An hour or so later, seeing that the corridor in front of the Room of Requirement was empty, he decided to take a leave out of Ron’s book and withdraw himself in the Room.

He summoned the Room without much thought and was therefore surprised at the scenery he found within.

It resembled the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, only lighter. The walls were cleaner and less dark, doubly so because there seemed to be more natural light. Well, not actual natural light, of course. Harry didn’t even know whether the sky he could see through the window was real.

With a sigh, he sat down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs and called Dobby, who gladly gave him a warm butterbeer.

And so Harry sat, staring into his butterbeer, thinking about death and life, the future and the past, what could’ve been and what might happen still. So deep in his thoughts he was, he didn’t hear the door to the Room open.

“Hello Harry Potter,” said a vague voice. “Why are you sitting here alone?”

Harry looked up and turned around, and saw Luna looking at him, as always with her head cocked to the side when she didn’t understand something.

“Oh, hey, Luna, I was just thinking about stuff. What are you doing here?”

“I saw a door and thought I’d peek in. There aren’t that many of us that know how the Room works, so I assumed it’d be either you, Ron, or Ginny and Dean,” she said.

“Wait,” Harry said sitting up, “do Ginny and Dean come here?”

“Sure. Ginny never lets me come along, so I’m not quite sure what they do,” Luna said, looking thoughtful.

Harry could imagine what they did and then shuddered when he did imagine it. He had seen enough of Dean as it was, he did not need to imagine the rest. Also, it was clearly a piece of news that Ron would be grateful not to know. 

“What were you thinking about, Harry?” Luna said, looking at something just above his head. “There are some Furry Nester around here. Are you sad?” she flapped her hand around his head, trying to remove the invisible creatures.

Harry raised his eyebrows. So, a Furry Nester had something to do with being sad? Or did he just look sad?

Luna misread his expression as she was quick to try to set Harry at east.

“Ginny likes to say it’s okay to be sad, you know,” she said. “I’m glad she thinks that, I don’t think she’d want to be friends with me otherwise.”

Harry frowned. “Are you sad a lot, Luna?”

Luna shrugged. “I’m sad at least once a year, the day my mum died.”

This was the exact kind of statement that made Harry question whether Luna was truly as in the clouds as she seemed to be. Sometimes he suspected that Luna knew better than most what bothered people, even if she herself said that she didn’t.

“It’s Sirius's birthday today,” Harry explained nonetheless and with a sigh, “He would’ve turned 37 today. And it was Halloween, last week. The fifteenth anniversary of my parent’s deaths. It’s all just a bit much,” he said to the table.  

Luna gave him a sorrowful smile and sat down next to him.

“Do you want something to drink?” Harry asked, and calling Dobby when Luna said she would like something.

They drank in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Luna spoke up. “I’m sorry about your godfather, Harry.” Luna reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand. She had very warm hands and Harry couldn’t help but feel comforted.

“You know,” Luna said conversationally, “My mum’s death was rather horrible as well. I saw everything. I still feel sad about it sometimes, but then I remember what my mother used to say.”

She stopped talking there and her protuberant, grey-blue eyes were a bit brighter than normal. Harry didn’t know whether she couldn’t continue talking about her mother, or whether she had forgotten that Harry didn’t know what her mother used to say.

“What did your mother use to say?” he prompted.

“Oh,” Luna said, blinking a couple of times before she looked at Harry, now without blinking. “My mum always said that the things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect,” she explained. “I like to think it was her way of saying that whatever happens, we’ll be together in the end.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t know whether he believed in something like heaven. Luna seemed to read that into his silence, though, as she continued. “You heard them too, right? The voices beyond the veil?”

Harry had heard voices. Was it like the Thestrals? Could only people who had encountered death hear those beyond the Veil? He had also spoken with his parents in the Little Hangleton Graveyard, but he didn’t want to get into that with Luna right now. He just nodded.

“That tells me that we’ll see them again in the end. My mum, Hermione, Sirius, your parents, Cedric,” Luna said with a tone of utmost conviction.

“I hope so, Luna, I really do,” Harry said. He noticed that Luna was still holding his hand. He wriggled it free to run his hand through his hair and then smiled at Luna.

“You want to tell me about Lily?” he asked.

Luna blushed at that question, and then, quite excitedly, began telling Harry about Lily, in a way that only Luna could. Meaning, she started by explaining that she had at first thought the girl attracted Nargles and Hornless Snorkacks, because Luna always felt a bit silly but also happy when she was around. It was Ginny who had suggested that Luna might just be attracted to her, which would explain the symptoms.

Harry listened with a smile. It felt nice to see someone be happy in these trying times.

-- In her memory --

That next week passed relatively quickly because Harry and Ron were looking forward to Thursday afternoon. The weather had begun getting increasingly worse since his conversation with Luna. Thus far it had snowed, hailed, and rained. The wind had been blowing hard, but not hard enough to disperse the almost constant Scotch mist, which had been painting the grounds in grey colours the entire week. The only thing they hadn’t had yet, and the one thing Harry and Ron were looking forward to, was a thunderstorm. But there had been one forecasted for that Thursday afternoon.

That’s why they were hanging around their dorm room now, waiting for the thunderstorm to kick into gear. They had discussed this part with McGonagall, who advised they take the potion while lying somewhere comfortably. To keep the process secret from their dormmates, they planned on charming the curtains shut and they debated on using a silencing charm, in the end deciding to go for it.

Now Harry and Ron alternated pacing and sitting down. They were just too excited to do any homework.

A half-hour of increasing nerves later, they heard the unmistakable low grumbles of thunder and they began seeing lightning outside.

They looked up at each other, faces pale in anticipation and hoping they had done everything correctly.

Harry grabbed the potion-storage container from under his bed and placed it on a side table.

“Do you think it’s ready?” he whispered. Ron walked over to the table and picked up the container.

“Just to be sure,” he said, and walked over to the window, opened it, and held the container out of the window.

Almost immediately lightning struck somewhere on the ground, resulting in a massive boom that shook the castle itself.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed, hastily pulling his hands back. Harry laughed at him.

“Shut up,” Ron said, kicking at Harry’s shins, and set the container down again.

“Well, let’s see if that’s worked,” he said, and he opened the container. He reached inside and pulled out the two potion phials. Both included a blood-red liquid that was about a mouthful. It had worked.

Ron gave Harry his potion phial, knowing which was which because of the marking they had made in the container.

Harry accepted it and made his way to his bed. “Good luck,” he said to Ron, who responded, “See you on the other side, mate”.

Harry closed the curtains of this four-poster, charmed them shut and cast a silencing charm as well.

If everything had gone like it had supposed to do, he would probably be out for a half-hour or so. Harry breathed in deeply and then out again. He placed his wand against his heart, repeated the chant he had been saying every sunrise and sunset, drank his potion and laid back on his bed, waiting for something to occur.

He never knew when he fell into the trance, but suddenly he was.

Harry opened his eyes to a vast blue sky. He was lying on his back with something pricking in his shoulder. He sat up and looked around. He was on a rock plateau on the side of a huge mountain. The mountain wasn’t alone, in the distance he could see this one was part of a mountain range, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Harry stood up and walked to the edge of the plateau. There was a sheer drop, and he could see that he was very high up. Over the edge he could see forests, grassland and far in the distance either a lake or a sea, he wasn’t sure.

Harry frowned. The view was nice and all, being there on top of the world, but he was supposed to see an animal. He turned around to look around the rocky plateau. It wasn’t very large, but there were a couple of nooks and crannies behind the rock formation.

After having looked around for a while, he spotted something of interest. At some places in the rocky wall, he saw something glistening. He walked to take a closer look. It seemed to be an outcrop of some sort, but what was it exactly?

Grabbing a rock, he began excavating some of the outcrops, only to gasp. It was gold! Or at least, it looked very much like gold. But what did that mean?

Harry looked around again. What was happening? Why wasn’t he seeing the animal he had bonded with? Had something gone wrong?

He made his way back to where he had woken up and looked around again. He scratched the back of his head in puzzlement, not knowing what to do. That’s when he noticed that the outcrops he had seen seemed to lead somewhere. They weren’t just randomly placed as he had thought at first.

Following the gold outcrops, he began noticing that in some places the gold had been excavated from the rock. Maybe his Animagus form was a Niffler? He shook his head. He didn’t care about gold, right? Maybe it just meant being rich. That made more sense.

The outcrops lead him to a small hidden corner behind a rock, and that’s where he encountered another clue.

It was a burrow carved out in the mountain!

In it, he saw something that greatly resembled the Golden Egg from the Triwizard Tournament, only smaller in size. He approached the burrow and picked it up. It was an actual egg! At least, he thought so. He had never heard of a creature that laid eggs of pure gold before.

That’s when he heard a loud, high-pitched screech. Hastily, he put the egg back and made his way back to the plateau. He heard the sound again and looked up.

Far above, so high he couldn’t determine what it was, something was flying in circles. That was it then. This had to be his Animagus form! Harry smiled. Of course it would be something that could fly. That made total sense.

Anticipating the animal to come closer Harry made space by backing up a bit. But to Harry’s surprise, the animal just kept flying in circles. For some reason, Harry had the creeping feeling that he was being judged. And he was found lacking. But why? What was it that he was lacking? Did he have to do something before he was judged worthy?

“But what do I have to do?”

Harry started from the sound of his own voice. He was no longer looking at the small speck in an enormous sea of blue sky, but rather at the scarlet canopy of his four-poster bed. He blinked. What had just happened? Had they done something wrong?

Feeling kind of groggy, he cast two finite’s on the silencing and sticking charms and stuck his head out of this bed. Ron was sitting on his bed, grinning widely. No need to ask him whether he’d been successful, Harry thought.

Ron’s smile slipped as he took in Harry, who was probably not looking as happy.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worriedly, “did it not work?” Then a smirk appeared on his face. “Or are you a flubberworm?”

Harry responded by banishing a cushion into Ron’s face, but Harry laughed nonetheless.

“You go first, what are you?” Harry had thought about what animal Ron would be, just like he had thought about what animal he thought he was. Deryn Pugh’s book on Animagi, Becoming the Beast Within, presented a small case study on the contributing authors. A careful study of one’s personality, likes, and dislikes could give hints to which animal you might become, but as the book had warned, most people lacked the self-awareness to do so accurately.

“I’m a dog! A German Shepard! But I’m not that black and brown type, you know? It was more of a reddish colour. Makes sense, eh?” Ron said excitedly, messing up his hair like Harry hadn’t already understood why that made sense.

“That’s great!” Harry grinned at him, genuinely happy that Ron was so happy with the result of his trance. While he wasn’t surprised that Ron would be some sort of dog, he still hadn’t guessed it right.

“You?” Ron asked enthusiastically.

Harry grimaced. “It was weird, I’m not sure what happened. What did you see exactly?”

Ron looked a bit uncomfortable, “I saw a house, looked a bit like the Burrow but different. It felt familiar, you know? Anyway, I walked up to the house when I heard something barking and this reddish or brown dog came running around the corner,” Ron looked away. “I think it was defending the house, and I got this feeling suddenly… it felt like the house would be where I… and my wife would live.” Harry could see Ron blush, and he thought of a joke about Lavender but decided this wasn’t the time.

“And then, I got this other feeling, it’s hard to describe,” Ron took a moment to think. “It felt like I was being judged by the dog? And then the dog started whining, wagging his tail and it bounded over to me! I gave it a belly rub. That’s when I woke up,” he concluded.

Harry made a contemplative noise. “Mine started out similar,” he began, “I woke up on this rocky plateau on the side of a mountain range, overlooking huge grasslands. I looked around for a bit until I found this gold vein in the rock that led to some kind of burrow in the mountain. There was a nest there and some golden eggs?” Harry scratched himself behind the head. “Then I heard a high-pitched screech and looked up. I saw something in the sky, flying, which makes sense, but it didn’t come closer,” He frowned and continued. “Then, as you said, it felt like I was being judged but I got the feeling that I hadn’t yet passed its judgement. But I’m not sure what I need to do…” he trailed off, looking confused at Ron.

“That’s weird,” Ron stated, clearly also not knowing what to do with that. “D’you think McGonagall knows what that’s about?”

Harry shrugged, “Wouldn’t hurt to ask, I guess, let’s go?”

“Now?” Ron said, surprised.

Harry nodded. “I’m sure that McGonagall would want to know.”

-- In her memory –

McGonagall had indeed wanted to know, but she didn’t have an explanation for what had happened with Harry. She said that the process of being judged was always a foregone conclusion, as far as she knew.

The next part of the process was to study your Animagus form. It would take an in-depth knowledge of the ins and out of the animal: behaviour, skeletal structure, muscle structure, nerve systems, vascular system, organ placement, every part of both the psyche and body. Only then could you begin to study the transformation itself.

What made the transformation so incredibly hard, however, was that it almost always had to be done in full. Only in rare circumstances did the human body line up sufficiently with one’s Animagus form for the student to use partial transformation. McGonagall was clear about this in her warnings to Ron. Transfiguring your left hand into a paw might result in that paw/hand receiving too little blood and oxygen, or even none at all. As a result, it might die if left in the transfigured state too long.

Needless to say, trying to do that with more important body parts was even more dangerous.

While Ron had taken in these warnings with a sort of grim determination, Harry sulked. McGonagall had told him that the only thing he could do at this point was trying to figure out which animal he had seen, and what it could be that he had to do.

As McGonagall pointed out, Harry had seen multiple clues. So, it wasn’t like he didn’t have a form, there was just something blocking him from achieving it. Figuring out what the speck in the sky had been would probably help Harry understand what the problem was.

That meant even more time reading books for Ron and Harry. Harry did have two secret weapons, though. Between Luna and Hagrid, he was sure they’d figure out the animal in no time whatsoever.

Which is exactly why he invited Luna to come with him to Hagrid, after dinner on Monday. Ron had decided to stay at the castle, beginning his study of the German Shepard, by trying to figure out which books he would have to order. Even Hogwarts, with its impressive library, probably didn’t have a book on the biology of German Shepherds or dogs in general. Immediately after their conversation with McGonagall, Harry had the great idea to ask Kreacher to locate the books that Sirius had used. He hadn’t been a Shepard, but he had been a dog, so there would be enough similarities for Ron to make a start.

After Hagrid had let him and Luna in, he began explaining.

“The reason I wanted to talk to the both of you is that I need two experts on creatures, magical or otherwise,” he started. Hagrid beamed at him, while Luna just smiled absently at him. Harry had discussed with Ron how he was going to explain his request, as he didn’t want to mention their Animagi training to either of them. Harry was very fond of Hagrid but the man couldn’t keep a secret. And Luna, well, he might tell her and Neville at some point.

“It’s like a riddle. I have certain clues that don’t make sense to me, but I’m hoping that you might understand them,”

“All right then, let’s hear it. Me and Luna together, I’m sure we can figure it out. She’s my best student after all,” Hagrid said, with a huge smile toward Luna, who smiled her thanks.

Harry liked seeing them together. They were polar opposites in how they looked but inside beat a heart that loved all animals equally. Aside from looks, the greatest difference between them was that Luna didn’t eat meat, while Hagrid did so almost exclusively.

“The clues I have are: it can fly, it lives around mountains, it has a burrow in the rock, and its eggs were golden. Does that ring any bells?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Did you see the animal itself?” Luna asked. Harry shook his head. Hagrid stood up and grabbed a copy of the Monster Book of Monsters, stroked the spine and opened it.

“Were the eggs actual gold or just golden looking?” he asked. Luna opened her bag to grab her version of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

“I think they were golden? They were near a gold vein, I think, at least there were outcrops in the rock that contained gold,” he explained. “I thought at first the answer was a Niffler, because of the gold,”

“Nifflers don’t usually live in mountains, not anymore at least,” Hagrid said. “They’ve moved toward cities,” Luna explained, “Also, Nifflers can’t fly,” she added under her breath. She didn’t look at Harry but Harry just knew that at least Luna knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Do you know whether the creature still exists?” Hagrid asked.

“Come to think of it, I’m not sure,” Harry said. Nothing in the books he and Ron had read had said that the creature couldn’t be extinct.

Luna and Hagrid spent ten minutes debating different creatures both extinct and extant. Luna wasn’t always helpful, as she mixed creatures that Hagrid knew with creatures that Harry was sure only Luna and her father believed in.

Harry started as he realized that Luna and Hagrid had stopped speaking and that Luna was looking at him with her head cocked to the side.

“Sorry, what?” he said stupidly.

“I said that I think I might have an idea,” she said, “Every clue you gave is true for the Gryffin,” she looked at him with a meaningful look, one that Hagrid missed.

“A Gryffin?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

Luna gave him her book and pointed at an entry. Harry grabbed the book and read:

The Gryffin (also Griffin, Gryffon, Gryphon) is a magical beast (Category XXXX). A Lion-Eagle hybrid, it has the back legs, tail and lower body of a lion, and the front legs, head and wings of an eagle. They are fierce creatures and highly protective of their territory and kin. When not threatening their home or kin, powerful witches and wizards have been known to befriend them. Because of their nature, Gryffins are often captured by Goblins to guard their treasures.

The Gryffin finds its origins in the mountains surrounding the Levantine Sea. The first mentions and depictions of the Gryffin were found in scrolls dating back to the Achaemenid Empire. They build burrows in the rock, often close to veins or outcrops of precious gems or minerals. The eggs they lay differ in colour, their colour changing accordingly with the most valuable treasure or mineral surrounding the Gryffin’s burrow. It makes its home high in the mountains, but always at the edge of mountain ranges. Magizoologists agree that this is because the Gryffin wishes to oversee its territory, which extends from the mountain range itself to the flatter lands surrounding it.

The current theory is that Hippogriffs came into existence when Gryffin habitat extended far enough to reach wild horse territory.

The Gryffin, being a mix between the eagle, the king of the skies, and the lion, the king of the land, is in folklore often considered the King of All Animals. As such, Gryffin caricatures are used as an ornamental element in heraldry throughout the world, signifying wealth, (divine) power, and wisdom. Godric Gryffindor was said to initially have chosen a Gryffin as the symbol for Gryffindor House, but Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw disagreed. The latter because she had already chosen an Eagle as the symbol for her House, the former because they disagreed with the symbolism.

Harry finished reading the entry and couldn’t deny that everything did seem to click: the rocky plateau overlooking a vast grassland, the burrow in the rock close to gold outcrops, it could fly. He swallowed. The symbolism didn’t escape him. Harry, a Gryffin Animagus, would fight to the death with Voldemort, the Heir of Slytherin.

“I think you’re right, I think the animal I was looking for was a Gryffin,” Harry confirmed to Luna and Hagrid. “Thanks,” he added to a beaming Hagrid and a smiling Luna.

As Harry sank into his thoughts, Luna and Hagrid began to discuss Aragog, who was not getting better. Apparently, Luna visited Hagrid often, probably with Ginny, to talk about magical creatures.

Harry sighed. He had to prove something. He had to show he was worthy of becoming a Gryffin animagus. But how?

Chapter Text

The second weekend of November was when Dumbledore had planned their next meeting, the first which would include Ron and Ginny. Over the past 10 weeks, Harry and Ron had both noticed that Dumbledore wasn’t around that much, his chair in the Great Hall being left empty more often than not. Harry assumed he was investigating locations, people and items related to Voldemort, to scout for possible Horcruxes

That week Harry had had to endure another Slughorn dinner. He was increasingly glad that Ginny was still getting invited. He had told her about him needing to get in Slughorn’s good graces, and Ginny was brilliant at charming the old man. When he had remarked on it, she said that she had spent the first ten years of her life learning how to make her brothers do what she wanted them to do. She had even told a hilarious story about Fred in a dress that Mrs Weasley had transfigured from some old dishcloths.

Life at Hogwarts went on as normal as possible. Harry still encountered students walking through the halls with the results of potion and spell mishaps clearly showing. The staircases still tended to trip up the first years, and a couple of older students as well. At the same time, Harry had noticed an underlying tension that expressed itself in furtive glances at sudden loud noises or the way the castle itself seemed to hold its breath every morning when the Owls came to deliver the news and mail. Most days it could breathe easier when the news wasn’t too bad. Other days brought terrible headlines or personal tragedy.

What surprised Harry the most was the relative quiet from the pro-Voldemort pure-bloods. He had expected daily threats from the likes of Malfoy. But after that first week, most Slytherins kept to themselves even more than usual. Malfoy had mostly ignored Harry after their duel. He didn’t even seem interested in trying to sabotage him in Potions class. Harry wondered whether this was due to the influence of Slughorn. Sure, Snape was still head of Slytherin, but Slughorn had been as well and Harry assumed the man would exert at least some of his influence. Snape himself also ignored Harry completely.

With the revelation that Harry’s Animagus was almost certainly a Gryffin, and the subsequent question of what he had to do to be accepted by his form, Harry was glad that he was heading toward the Headmaster’s Office with Ron and Ginny. If anyone knew what was up, it’d be Dumbledore. He was also nervous, about the conversation they were about to have with Ginny. Ron was stone-faced and Ginny’s jaw was clenching now and again, as they ascended the twisting staircase.

Harry knocked and opened the door when Dumbledore told them to come in.

“Well, hello!” the Headmaster greeted, as they walked in. He seemed tired. Harry guessed he had only just returned from wherever he’d been. Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured three armchairs that look quite comfortable. It seemed he anticipated a difficult conversation.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and took the two chairs on the outside, leaving the middle one for Ginny. She didn’t seem to notice this subtle defensive positioning.

The Headmaster looked at them individually for a moment. Then he started.

“Miss and Mister Weasley, I assume you know why you’re here?”

Ron nodded, Ginny shook her head. “I know that you, Harry and I’m assuming Ron also, know what the Diary was exactly,” she said slowly. “What I don’t understand is why you told Harry rather than me,” she continued in a voice that was still polite but also slightly condemnatory.

“The primary reason is that this knowledge is to remain a secret. I’m not saying I don’t trust you. The Weasley family has time and again proven their trustworthiness,” Dumbledore explained. “But a secret can only spread when it is revealed, and thus, the best protection is to not reveal it at all. This would still be my position if Mr Potter had not convinced me that you might have information that we do not.”

Ginny frowned quizzically at him. Harry ignored her but inwardly smiled at Dumbledore’s use of his surname. The Headmaster usually just used “Harry” but apparently felt it wrong to do so in the company of other students.

“Okay,” Ginny started, “what kind of information would that be? I hardly think there’s a subject that I know more about than you, professor.”

“You flatter me,” Dumbledore smiled as he answered, “I assure you there are many topics I know little about.” His expression turned serious again. “The topic in question is an example. As you know, I was Tom Riddle’s teacher, when he studied here at Hogwarts. But he never trusted me and always kept a careful distance. I have since learned a lot about the boy and man he was, but I am much more acquainted with the man he would eventually become.”

Ginny caught on, her face pale but her voice still strong, “And I have had months of conversation with a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle.” She swallowed. “But why does it matter? What information are you looking for?”

“Because there are other objects like the Diary out there,” Dumbledore responded. The only outward sign of Ginny’s state of mind was her jaw clenching and her lips thinning.

 “Now, Miss Weasley, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions. If at any point you feel like you can’t answer, or for whatever reason, feel like you don’t want to, please, do not be afraid to tell me so. Do you understand?”

Ginny nodded. She breathed in deeply and Harry recognized her game face. Like with Quidditch, she was nervous about talking about the Diary but managed to transform the nerves into sheer determination. Ron grabbed her hand. Ginny smiled fleetingly at him.

“Did Tom ever mention any advanced magic? Either Dark or not?” Dumbledore began. Harry assumed Dumbledore was planning to warm up before they delved directly into the topic of Horcruxes.

Ginny thought about it for a moment. “Tom offered advice on spells sometimes, but our conversations mostly were about other topics,” she said, determinedly not looking at Harry.

“What kind of advice did he offer? Please, don’t hold back anything you think you already told me back then,” Dumbledore prompted. Harry hadn’t known that Dumbledore had talked with Ginny about the Diary but that made sense. The Weasleys would have had to ask permission for Ginny to visit with Primrose Jorkins, her therapist. Harry assumed that Prim had also been in contact with Dumbledore in some shape, just be sure of the magic that was used in creating the Diary.

“In the beginning, he encouraged me to practise spells that were second or third year. He said that I was powerful and that learning powerful spells would be a good way to impress…” Ginny stopped and then sighed in an annoyed manner. “He said that learning powerful spells would impress Harry and get him to notice me.” She blushed slightly but smiled mostly self-deprecatingly. 

Harry was confused. “Why would he think I would be impressed by powerful magic?”

Ginny shrugged, but Dumbledore looked pensively. “Whether as Voldemort or as a young Tom Riddle, he was always primarily interested in power. Everything he did was in support of garnering more power. The only relationship he understood was that between powerful and powerless. In his mind, power would always attract the powerless.” He turned to Ginny again. “You said he seemed to believe you to be powerful. Did he ever say why he thought so?”

Ginny nodded. “Aside from the manipulative flattery, he seemed very interested in the fact that I was a seventh child, and the first girl in seven generations,” she said.

Dumbledore’s eyes widened minutely. Harry wouldn’t have noticed had he not spent so much time with the man over the last months.

“Did he ever tell you why that mattered? Did he mention the number seven often?”

“Yeah, he said that there was power in the number seven.”

Harry understood at once why this was important. This indicated that Voldemort followed the arithmantic theory that stated that seven was the most magically powerful number. If that was the case then Voldemort would most likely have split his soul into seven pieces.

“Thank you, Ginny, that is very insightful,” Dumbledore said, a bit distractedly, he was already thinking furiously about what this meant.

“Why, though?” Ginny asked, “Why does that help?”

Harry decided to answer, “Because that means there are probably five other items like the Diary out there,” he said looking at Dumbledore for confirmation, which came in the form of a solemn nod.

“Well, four, I guess,” Harry mused out loud, thinking about Nagini. The snake wasn’t an item like the diary or the ring were. 

“What are you talking about?” Ginny asked. “What is the diary exactly? Do these objects matter in defeating Tom?”

“They do,” Dumbledore said.

Then Ron spoke up for the first time. “I think she deserves to know,” he squeezed Ginny’s hand, “I know I would, and Harry would want to know as well.”

Dumbledore looked at Ron in silence and then acquiesced. “Between the three of us, you know Miss Weasley the best, of course.”

He stood up. “What I’m going to tell you, Miss Weasley, Ginny, I must ask you to tell no one. Absolutely no one. It is crucial in defeating Voldemort that he never learns what we are about to discuss. Do you understand?”

Ginny nodded determinedly.

“Can’t we use a Fidelius to prevent us from speaking about it?” Ron asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. “The Fidelius only works to hide a location. Do not fret, however. I think it is highly unlikely that anyone would try to get the information from Miss Weasley. My guess would be that the four of us and Voldemort himself, will be the only ones who know about this. As long as we don’t discuss this in places we can be overheard, and use sufficient privacy charms we should be safe.”

They were silent for a moment, letting build the gravity of what they were about to tell Ginny.

“Did Tom ever talk to you about Horcruxes?”

Ginny’s eye lit up in recognition, but she frowned at the same time. “I recognize the term, I think he did mention it but I can’t remember in what context.”

“A Horcrux is an item in which a part of a soul is stored,” Dumbledore explained softly.

Ginny’s gripped the armrest of her chair hard, her knuckles protruding and her freckles clearly visible in the white skin of the back of her hands.

“He wanted to steal my soul,” Ginny whispered, more to herself than to them. She looked at Harry. “The Diary…?” she whispered pleadingly, looking up at him, different emotions racing over her face.

“… was a Horcrux,” he confirmed, emphasizing the was because he felt that would help soften the blow.

Ron leaned forward and put his other hand on Ginny’s also. Ginny slowly looked at her hand, up at Ron, and then slowly pulled her hand from his. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, shivering.

Dumbledore continued in a soft tone. “The Diary was indeed a Horcrux, making it most probably one of the darkest pieces of magic to have ever existed.” He then spoke up a bit louder, “Which is why I am so incredibly proud of how far you’ve come since.”

Ginny didn’t say anything for a long while. She just stared at the space in front of her chair. Harry and Ron shared a look over her head, clearly not knowing what to do.

After a good while, Ginny looked up. “You said there were four more of these, these Horcruxes?”

“Based on what you said about Tom’s interest in the number seven, we have good reason to believe his goal was to split his soul into seven pieces. That would mean a total of six Horcruxes, with the remaining seventh part of his soul remaining in his body.”

“We suspect one of them to be Nagini, his snake. When I said one was different I meant that the others are all objects like a ring or a diary, but Nagini is a living creature,” Harry explained.

Ginny nodded but turned silent again. She had turned a bit green beneath her pale face. Harry couldn’t blame her. He had only been possessed by Voldemort for a couple of minutes and if he hadn’t been emotionally dead in the aftermath of the battle he knew he would have felt dirty, wrong, violated even, for days. Ginny had carried the Horcrux with her for months.

Ron tried to squeeze her hand again but she rather snappishly slapped his hand away. She turned to Harry instead. “How long have you known?”

“Since the first weekend we were back this year,” he admitted. Ginny narrowing her eyes was reason enough for him to quickly explain, “As Professor Dumbledore said, this must be kept secret. As long as there are Horcruxes, Voldemort, Tom cannot die.”

That took the wind right out of Ginny’s sails. “He’s immortal?” she exclaimed, aghast.

“He cannot die as long as he has his Horcruxes,” Dumbledore corrected, “Which is why it is crucial that we find and destroy them before he realizes that we are doing so. If he were to find out, he would most certainly move them and increase their security.”

Dumbledore walked over to Ginny and kneeled in front of her. He grabbed her hand in his hands. Ginny’s pale skin clashed violently with the blackened, dead skin of the Headmaster’s right hand. In kind, grandfatherly tones Dumbledore tried to assuage Ginny’s fears.

“Listen to me, Miss Weasley, Ginny, if I may. I have seen absolutely no evidence of any lingering issues stemming from your contact with the Diary Horcrux. I am certain that, besides psychological trauma, which you have so valiantly and bravely overcome, you are free from its influence. You are not dirty, you are not sick, you are not unclean. Your soul is your own. You are alone in your mind. You are in no way, shape, or form tainted. In fact, the opposite is true. With the knowledge I now have of what the Diary actually is, I am even more amazed by your resistance.”

When Ginny tried to protest, he continued, “I told you then, that you should not feel ashamed. Many older and powerful witches and wizards have been misled and corrupted by Voldemort. You had him with you and you still held out for months.” He then looked at Harry. “As a matter of fact, and I rather think your brother and Mr Potter would agree, when, as I am certain we will, we are victorious, our victory started with you withstanding him for as long as you did. Do you understand?”

Ginny nodded and she smiled half-heartedly at the Headmaster. Dumbledore gave a small pat on her hand and then stood up. Harry noticed that it was a slight struggle for the man. He had no idea how old the Headmaster was exactly, but his age was beginning to show.

Dumbledore returned to his seat and looked at Ginny again. “And if you do feel threatened or afraid of being possessed again,” he said in the same kind and warm tones, “surrounding yourself with love is the best protection you have, isn’t that right, Harry?”

Harry blanched. He knew exactly what he meant, but the problem was he hadn’t told either Ginny or Ron about the fact he was possessed at the end of the battle last June. They both looked at him.

“You mean like the protection Harry got from his mum?” Ginny asked.

“Oh, dear,” the Headmaster said apologetically to Harry, “it seems I have accidentally betrayed something you have kept secret. My apologies.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. Had it been an accident? Or was it a way to force Harry to talk about it more? The slight twinkle in the Headmaster's blue eyes seemed to indicate the latter.

Ron looked at him, probably unsure whether Dumbledore was talking about the “power he knows not”. Ginny looked at him, the question clearly visible in her eyes.

Did he want to talk about it? There wasn’t really a reason to hide it, was there? He sighed.

“What the Headmaster meant was that, at the battle last year, at the end, I was briefly possessed by Voldemort,” At Ron and Ginny’s outraged and shocked yells, he hastily added, “But he couldn’t bear the pain when I was thinking about Sirius and Hermione. Apparently, my love for them exorcised him.” He ran his hand through his hair, a bit embarrassed. He looked up cautiously to see their reactions.

Ron was looking at him with sad eyes. Ginny, on the other hand, was quickly reaching a boiling point and Harry had only a second to brace himself.

“Harry Potter, you complete arse!” she yelled, jumping up. “How dare you ask me about the Diary and then not mention that you were fucking possessed yourself! Don’t you think that’s something you should’ve mentioned? Let me go, Ron!” This last was aimed at her brother who had hugged her from behind to keep her from attacking Harry.

Harry wasn’t going to take this that easily, though. “We didn’t even talk about your possession! Only what you did after!”

The Headmaster’s voice drifted over them, bringing a calming influence with it. “Let’s all calm down. Harry, I was unaware you hadn’t discussed the possession with Ginny. My apologies.” He then looked at Ginny, “Miss Weasley, I can understand your anger, but please remember how long it took you to talk.”

Ginny, clearly still angry, exhaled violently, but sat down.

Dumbledore took charge of the discussion again. “I think we have discussed what we wanted to discuss, did we not? Miss Weasley, if you remember something you think may be important, please come see me, or tell Mr Potter or your brother. Mr Potter, if I may ask you to stay for a moment longer?”

Ron dragged Ginny up from her chair and together they made their way to the door, but Dumbledore spoke up before they left. “Oh and Mr Weasley, congratulations on your achievement last weekend. Miss Weasley, I trust you know where to go if you feel the need to talk to someone. Mrs Jorkins is free to come up to the castle if you feel the need.” Then, his moustache twitched and with twinkling eyes, he said, “and this time I won’t take House Point for your language!”

Ginny didn’t really smile but nodded politely and she and Ron walked out.

With a wave, the Headmaster vanished their two chairs.

“Now, Harry,” he began, “Let us switch topics. Minerva has informed me that your experience with the Animagus potion has not been satisfactory.”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed, “I have been wanting to ask you about it. Did Professor McGonagall inform you what happened?”

Dumbledore took his glasses of his face and cleaned them with his wand. “It is my understanding that you didn’t pass the judgement that is usually only ceremonial, and that as a result, you are unsure of what animal choose you. Is that correct?”

“Well, yes, but I asked Hagrid and Luna, we are quite certain that what I saw was a Gryffin. I didn’t tell them that it was Animagus-related, though, I just presented it as a puzzle.”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “A Gryffin?” he murmured to himself, “how very interesting.” He waved his wand, and a copy of Fantastic Beasts came flying into his hand.

He looked at Harry and with a smile said, “Alas, creatures have never been my forte, either magical or non-magical.”

As the Headmaster read the entry, Harry explained: “During the vision, I felt like I hadn’t yet proved myself worthy, but I definitely had the feeling I could prove it. But I’m unsure how to do so,”

“Indeed?” Dumbledore muttered under his breath while he read. The other things he muttered Harry couldn’t hear.

After a while, when Harry was quite sure Dumbledore had read the passage multiple times, he cleared his throat and tentatively asked, “Sir?”

Dumbledore look at him for a moment before he finally said something. “Well, there are clear similarities to be found, of course, but I am more interested in the symbolism. I’m sure you have realized this.”

Harry nodded, “Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin, I’m potentially a Gryffin Animagus.”

This past week he had been wondering whether this symbolism was just that, or whether there was more to it. “Sir? Do you think I may be related to Gryffindor? Like Voldemort is related to Slytherin?”

“I’m quite sure you are not, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “Even if you are a true Gryffindor,”’ he said, nodding to the Sword of Gryffindor. “As far as I know, there are no wizards or witches in Britain that carry the name of any of the four founders. Of course, Rowena Ravenclaw’s direct line ended with her daughter. As we know from the memories of Hepzibah Smith, the Smiths are most likely the most directly related living relatives of Helga Hufflepuff. Most scholars agree that the Gryffindor name has died out, but that his relatives were among the first to accompany the British Muggles in their quest to colonize the American continent. If there is an heir of Gryffindor out there, they are probably living somewhere on the American continent.”

“So the symbolism is only that?” Harry asked.

“My guess would be, yes and no,” the Headmaster said. “Let me explain. I think crucial here is the regal quality of the Gryffin. The Gryffin is a kingly animal, stretching its realm far and wide, over land and through the air. Such an animal would not allow a threat to its position to live within its territory.”

Harry understood at once what Dumbledore was getting at. “I need to defeat Voldemort. That’s what was lacking.”

The Headmaster nodded slowly.

“Luckily that was the plan anyway,” Harry said dryly.

-- In her memory –

The next two weeks went by rather quickly. Harry was really beginning to feel the effects of their breakneck schedule. If it wasn’t for Quidditch and the fact that he and Ron were clearly improving, he thought he might have gone crazy.

Not everything was going smoothly, though. Having kept an eye on the corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he had concluded that Malfoy was visiting the Room of Requirement. Goyle and Crabbe were often stationed outside. He had no idea what he was up to, however.

Another thing that puzzled him was Ron. He hadn’t noticed at first, but Ron had completely stopped complaining about muscle aches and his mood had improved. But at the same time, Harry was completely sure that he still wasn’t getting enough sleep. He had talked to Ginny about it, and she agreed that the change had been too quick. Harry had been in favour of keeping an eye out for any more changes, but Ginny had just cornered Ron to ask him about it.

Ron had said that he was just happy with the progress they were making, and with the animal his animagus form was. That was all.

While Harry wasn’t sure this was true, he couldn’t deny that Ron was getting good at duelling. He had taken Flitwick’s guest lecture for the HA to heart, and combined with Dumbledore’s book, he was beginning to think more strategically about duelling. Harry suspected this was exactly why Dumbledore had given him the book, as Dumbledore had given him the book after their discussion about Harry having to rely on things other than just spells and power.

Together with Neville, they had spent one of their Defence self-study session discussing different ways they could try to maximize the effectiveness of the spells they already knew. Taking Flitwick’s example of minimal movement, they had scoured the Hogwarts Library, asked the Room of Requirement, and had written to Tonks about it. But their greatest idea came when Harry had used the Invisibility Cloak in one of their practice duels.

“Hey! That’s a great idea!” Ron said enthusiastically.

“Being invisible?” Neville asked. “We could practise our disillusionment charms,” he suggested.

“Yeah, we should do that,” Ron said, waving his hand, “but casting a stunner or a disarmer would still give you away, wouldn’t it?”

Harry and Neville looked at each other.

“Here, look at this,” Ron said impatiently. He fired a stunner at the empty space, casting it in the familiar red light. He turned and aimed at his book bag. “Wingardium Leviosa”, he said, levitated the bag for a moment, and then looked up at Harry and Neville expectantly. They had not yet practised nonverbal spells that they weren’t likely to use in a duel.

When Harry and Neville didn’t say anything, Ron explained. “Even if I was under the cloak, or had disillusioned myself if I had cast the Stunner, the red light would’ve given me away. Casting it gives off light, but levitating something doesn’t!”

Harry and Neville looked at each other in surprise and dawning comprehension.

“If we could find a way to stun or disarm without it giving off that light…” Harry said, thinking hard.

“You could stun people without giving away your position granted you’re invisible in some way!” Ron said, grinning broadly. “That way it doesn’t matter whether someone is a better dueller or more powerful, they would have no target.”

“Isn’t that a bit Slytherin, mate? Sneaking around like that?” Neville said, with a smirk to indicate he was joking.

But Ron took it very seriously. “I’d willingly resort myself into Slytherin if that meant I could keep my friends and family alive,” he said darkly.

Neville frowned but nodded his agreement. Harry thought Ron’s statement said everything about how their last year had been. Together with Hagrid, Ron’s view of Slytherin had been one of the main reasons Harry himself had told the Sorting Hat he didn’t want to be in Slytherin.

Harry smiled wryly. “If sneaking around makes you a Slytherin, we’ve been snakes ever since our first year, mate,” he said, thinking back on all the trips he, Ron and Hermione had taken through the castle at night. “I even distinctly remember encountering you a couple of times, Neville!”

“Something with a three-headed dog, right?” Neville said, pretending to think hard. They all laughed.

“All transfigurations and most charms are cast nonvisible, right?” Ron said, bringing them back on topic.

“Which charms are visible?” Neville asked.

“Lumos,” Harry said, snickering.

“Ha-Ha,” Neville laughed sarcastically.

“Does it have to do with power?” Ron suggested.

Harry shook his head, “I saw Dumbledore perform the Fidelius Charm, which is a highly powerful charm, but that was invisible as well. Hang on, remember what McGonagall said at the HA?”

 “That almost all spells taught in Defence are charms?”

“Yes,” Harry said, “and that makes sense right? I mean aren’t jinxes and hexes almost always charms themselves? They only add or remove a characteristic from the target, which is the definition of a charm, right?”

“Yeah, but jinxes, hexes and curses are all cast visibly,” Ron answered, cottoning on.

“But why?” Neville asked, “what determines whether they are visible?”

They all thought about it for a moment.

“It has to be about the fact that you cast them on other people, right?” Neville argued, sitting down in a chair.

“But stuff like a Cheering Charm is still invisible,” Ron said.

“Intent, maybe?” Harry suggested, “Spells are visible when they are in one way or another cast with the intent to harm?”

Neville seemed impressed but Ron shook his head. “When I levitated the Troll’s club back in first year, I levitated it with the intention of dropping it on his head but the spell was still invisible.”

Harry sighed. This was the exact sort of conundrum they needed someone like Hermione for. He felt a sting of grief, and then a wave of anger. Not at the circumstances but at himself, because noticing his grief when he needed Hermione’s brain felt wrong somehow. She had been much more than her brain.

“I got it!” Neville said, making Harry pay attention again, “It is true you cast the spell at the club to use it to harm the troll, but you didn’t mean to harm the club itself!”

“I guess,” Ron said a bit unsure, “ But when I cast that stunner on the empty space it was still visible, even though there was nothing to intend to harm.”

“But you still needed the conviction you wanted your target to be stunned for the spell to even work, right?” Harry said, “Plus, you aimed at something, even if was empty air. That might be enough?”

Ron looked at him for a second and then let out a groan and covered his face with his hands. “All this thinking makes my brain hurt,” he said, making Harry and Neville burst out in laughter.

After they had calmed down, Harry spoke up again. “There is an easy way to test this, you know. If we purposefully overpower a Cheering Charm, like I accidentally did to you back in third year, Ron, with the intent of making the target laugh so hard they get cramps in their midriffs, that might tell us something.”

Neville looked at him thoughtfully. “You could argue that casting it that way, the charm actually becomes more of a Jinx or Hex. Do you think you could reverse that process? Like maybe Ginny’s Bat-Bogey hex could be used to treat a stuffed nose if you cast it with that intent?”

Harry, quite ironically, snorted loudly. “So, you want to try it out?”

Neville nodded, standing up. Ron didn’t, “You two go ahead,” he said. He looked a bit apprehensively.

“Uh, sure, mate,” Harry said, shooting a glance at Neville who shrugged. They played a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors to decide who would start. Neville won.

The first rounds of Cheering Charms being cast back and forth didn’t result in anything but high spirits and beginning muscle cramps. But whether this was because their theory was wrong or because they failed at adequately translating the intent or conviction into their casting, they didn’t know.

Deciding to call it quits, Harry suggested they would ask Flitwick after their next charms lesson.

-- In her memory –

It was Friday and Harry and Neville were in the Room of Requirement messing around with overpowering a Cheering Charm again. This Hermione’s Army meeting had proved to be very interesting. It had actually been Ginny who had come to him after the meeting that Tuesday, to ask whether Harry thought it would be a good idea to tell the members something about who Voldemort really was. Nothing about you-know-what, of course, she had joked, but maybe if it was more widely known that Voldemort was a half-blood named Tom, it would take away some of the fear.

When teased by Harry that she just wanted to know more herself, after what they had discussed in Dumbledore’s office, she had shrugged and just answered in the affirmative.  Neither had said anything about their yelling match, but Ginny had either forgiven him or had figured she shouldn’t blame him anyway. But Harry was quite sure the topic would come up in the not-so-distant future.

After a quick check-in with Dumbledore, who had been at dinner on Wednesday, Harry got permission to tell the HA members something about Voldemort’s past. 

However, when the meeting started, he was interrupted by the Headmaster himself. Clearly, Dumbledore had decided that it was better if he would be the one to tell them, being the only one who had known the man as a boy.

Harry might have felt a bit miffed at not being trusted to present this information, if not for the fact that Dumbledore gave a half-hour lecture on more than just Voldemort. He started with a large picture of a young Tom Riddle and gave them some background information. Witch Mother, Muggle Father, raised in a Muggle Orphanage. He presented his story in such a way to make Tom Riddle look like a sympathetic character, someone who had strived to overcome adversity on his own, only to then pull the rug from under that sympathy.

Harry assumed Dumbledore had done so to drill the point home of how manipulation could work. It certainly had an impact on the members listening. They had discussed it shortly before they used their second hour to practise their defence and healing skills again. After almost three months of the HA being active, Harry had to acknowledge that the Healing part of their curriculum was lacking. This was mostly due to their inability to find a teacher that had time. With Hogwarts in full swing, combined with the usual flu season, Madam Pomfrey was too busy to dedicate the time needed. But those interested in Healing still did their best.

Their number had also grown again after Flitwick’s lesson. They know had about 55 members that came regularly. The new recruits mainly came from the younger students, which meant that Harry and Ron had to dedicate more time to teaching the simpler spells. Luckily, most of the original members took the younger members under their wing. If they hadn’t, Harry and Ron would not have time to practise for themselves.

Harry turned his concentration back on Neville and tried to envision wanting to hurt his friend. He concentrated on his aching abdominal muscles and mentally projected that he wanted to repay his friend in kind.

Neville did burst out in hysterical fits of laughter again, but the charm was still cast non-visible. It seemed Flitwick had been on the money: trying this with a spell that made them feel giddy wasn’t the best way to start.

Flitwick had not been much help either way. Apparently, there were many theories out there that tried to explain spell colour, but none had proved to stand the test of time. He did know that there had been people who had experimented with trying to cast disillusionment on the spell itself but that hadn’t worked out great either. He had promised to look into it a bit for them, though. 

Harry had had the idea to ask Fred & George whether they could come up with an idea. It was exactly these sort of out-of-the-box ideas that the Twins excelled in.

Giving up on the Cheering Charms, Harry and Neville walked around for a bit, helping out with spells. As was often the case, Ginny, Luna, Lily and Sophie were practising with each other. Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Ginny was saving Sophie from being a third-wheel.

Harry also noticed that Lavender was, likely on purpose, staying on the other side of the room from where Ron was. Harry wasn’t sure that Ron had talked to her at all after she had tried to kiss him, but he wasn’t planning on asking him. Looking over the members he was glad to see that everything was going well. People were mingling between houses, although the number of Slytherin members was still very low. Aside from fifth-year prefect Signe, there was a second-year, Nissa. She was someway related to Leif, the Gryffindor Reserve Seeker Mia’s friend, but Harry wasn’t sure whether they were actually twins or just were born within a year from each other. The third Slytherin was another girl, which was probably due to Ginny’s influence. She was also a fifth year, and one of the twins that Harry had seen at Slug Club gatherings. If Harry remembered correctly this one was the one that had avoided eye contact with Ginny and Harry.

Things seemed to be going quite well, for as far as it could go well with a war going on.

This all changed in December.

Chapter Text

The signs had been there for all to see, and though Harry had seen them, he still did not manage to prevent it from happening.

The week started normal enough, but then suddenly on Wednesday, Ron’s bad mood was back with a vengeance. It got so worse that he accidentally overpowered a stunner that threw Neville against the wall during their Wednesday morning. Rather than apologise, Ron had just let out an angry yell and stormed out.

Then on Friday, things really took a turn for the worst.

The HA meeting was close to ending when it happened. A loud bang, followed by a small lightning show, alerted Harry to the fact that something was wrong.

Flashbacks to last year and Umbridge’s invasion shot through his head. Instead, he was taken aback to see it was Ron who had seemingly attacked a couple of fifth-year Hufflepuffs.

Roger Wright, the Hufflepuff who had been wary of changing the name to Hermione’s Army, was lying on his back on the ground, while his two friends stood above him, duelling with Ron. They were no match, however, and could do little more than keep up their shields against Ron’s barrage of attacks.

Harry could have believed that it was just practise, but Ron seemed a bit too keen to teach the Hufflepuffs a lesson. He looked absolutely furious.

“RON!” Harry yelled as he sped towards the four. He aimed a well-practised non-verbal Disarmer at Ron, who blocked it and continued casting.

Deciding that enough was enough, Harry quickly cast a series of stunners, the first two cast non-verbally and the third verbalized. Ron managed to defend against the first two, but the third one was strong enough to blast through Ron's shield charm.

As Ron hit the ground, Harry yelled: “Everybody leave. Now!” His command brook no argument, even if the Hufflepuffs looked like they wanted to do so very much. Unsurprisingly, Neville and Ginny decided not to honour it.

When everyone had left, Harry cast an enervate and Ron came to. 

“What happened?” Harry asked. He could feel Ginny and Neville standing behind him, looking at Ron.

“Whadya mean?” Ron answered groggily, blinking and looking around dazedly.

“Why did you attack those Hufflepuffs?”

Ron blinked at him and then scowled. “Those twats were just fucking around! I needed to teach them a lesson about how serious this should be! We’re in a fucking war! Just because they aren’t on the front line, doesn’t mean they’ll escape this shit unharmed,” he half-shouted at them.

“Yeah, well, we also don’t want them to think they should be on the front line, remember?” Harry said.

“Yeah, well, they don’t always have a choice, do they? So they better make sure they’re up to snuff,” Ron argued angrily.  

“Yeah, and attacking them unprovoked is a great way to get that across,” Ginny butted in sarcastically, rolling her eyes.“Newsflash, brother dear, thanks to Potter here, your experience is in no way comparable to that of Roger and his friends.”

“Oh, you shut up, Ginny!” Ron snapped at her, “You’re not Hermione, you don’t always know better!”

“Of course, I’m not Hermione, you great prat!” Ginny yelled back.

Before things could escalate further, Nevile spoke up.

“And that’s exactly what Ron is trying to get across, I think,” he said. “Hermione’s Army isn’t just a way to learn to protect yourself, but also your friends and family. Sure, Ron could’ve gone about it in a better way, but I think the message is sound.”

Ron turned around and muttered under his breath, “I don’t have the time for this.”

He walked out.

-- In Her Memory –

Ron had been in bed when Harry arrived back in the dorm with Neville, and he hadn’t said anything to either Seamus or Dean. His curtains were charmed shut and there were multiple sound charms active: sound could neither go in nor out.

When Harry woke up that morning, he tried to rouse Ron without success. Harry figured Ron was a bit embarrassed from his meltdown from the day before, even if may have been justified. Shrugging Harry went down to the Great Hall and ate breakfast with most of the other Gryffindors. He then spent most of the day working through his never-ending supply of homework with Neville, Seamus and Dean.

He couldn’t concentrate though, he knew people were staring at him, wondering where Ron was and what had happened the previous night.

Ron didn’t show up at lunch. The Hogwarts rumour mill showed its worst side again, with rumours that Ron had been expelled making the rounds. Harry knew this was rubbish, but it was worrying nonetheless. When he also didn’t show up at dinner either, Harry made his way back up to the dorms and opened the door.

Ron was just coming back from the bathroom, still in his pyjamas.

“Are you okay, Ron?” Harry asked. But Ron didn’t respond, just walked silently back to his bed, his back to Harry. As he tried to put up his charms again, Harry was quick to interrupt him.

“Ron, what are you doing?” Harry tried again, grabbing Ron’s hand to stop him from casting.

Then Ron looked up and Harry started.

He didn’t know what he expected but a total lack of emotion certainly wasn’t it. Ron looked dead-tired.

“Just leave me alone, Harry,” he said in a defeated tone.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Harry asked, the concern clear in his voice.

“What isn’t?” Ron shrugged, as he laid back on his bed, grabbing their charms textbook.

“Is this because of what happened yesterday?” Harry guessed. “Because I’m sure that won’t be a problem if we explain what Neville said.”

“Yeah, great,” Ron murmured. “Can you leave me alone now? I’m tired, and I need to finish this chapter.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said.

He walked out of the room. As he stood on the landing, overlooking the Gryffindor Common Room, he suddenly felt very alone. He saw Neville working on homework with Sophie and Lily. Ginny, Dean and Seamus were relaxing with some of her dorm mates. Parvati and Lavender were giggling from behind a Witch Weekly magazine.

Deciding he wanted to wallow in his loneliness for a while, Harry got out the map and decided to take a stroll through the castle.

-- In Her Memory –

A half-hour or so later, he ran into someone he hadn’t really seen around this entire year. It was quite possible Harry just kept missing him. But normally, Peeves was always around to cause chaos for as many people as possible.

This time he was terrorizing the paintings. He was spinning them around, tilting them left and right so the painted subjects fell into their neighbours' paintings.

As Harry approached, he was spotted by Peeves.

“Ooooh! Potter, all alone! What fun!” he cackled manically. Harry wasn’t that impressed. He felt like he couldn’t care about much right now.

“Hello, Peeves, how are you?” he asked, wondering why he even bothered asking.

“Better than you! Turn that frown upside down, Potter!” Peeves turned himself upside down and laughed.

“I haven’t seen you around that much, what you’ve been up to?” Harry asked, actually a bit curious.

“Why, don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, Potter, or the smell might become even Rotter!” A huge farting noise and a foul smell drafted through the corridor.

“That will be enough, Peeves,” a familiar, calm voice said from somewhere behind Harry. He turned around and saw the Headmaster looking up at Peeves.

Peeves scowled but with something as close to politeness as was possible for a poltergeist, said: “Sorry, Mr Headmaster, sir,” and he quickly fled the scene.

Flabbergasted, Harry looked at the Headmaster and asked: “What was that all about?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I had somewhat of a conversation with Peeves last summer. I convinced it to scale down its usual antics a bit, considering the difficult times we are living in.” The smile disappeared. “People will have a hard enough time already without Peeves wreaking havoc left and right.”

“Couldn’t you just exorcise him or something?” Harry asked.

“I could, which is the reason why Peeves at least somewhat listens to me. The problem lies with what we discussed last summer, Harry. There is so much magic in these halls, in the very stones themselves. A poltergeist is likely inevitable, especially considering the amount of mischief and chaos that is to be expected with housing this many students in their most volatile ages. I’d rather keep Peeves around than risk another, more destructive, less neutral one taking his place. Even if Peeves is exceptionally powerful,” the Headmaster said, walking toward his office. Harry followed without thinking about it.

“He is?” Harry questioned.

“It is,” Dumbledore corrected, “Most poltergeists are invisible, Harry. The fact that Peeves has enough magic of its own to maintain a visible presence is rather unique. Though, of course, whether Peeves has any magic of its own is debatable. It’s one of the main objects of interest for those studying amortals. Hogwarts has in the past offered Ghoul Studies as an optional class, but the Minister of Magic offers its own training for those interested.”

They stopped to wait for the doors to revolving staircase to open.

“Amortals?” Harry questioned.

“Peeves came into existence through magic and therefore cannot “die” as it was never “alive” to begin with. Which is why you should refer to it as an “it”. An exorcism would therefore do nothing but break up the concentrated magic from which Peeves came forth. After which it would only be a matter of time before another poltergeist would reappear.”

They took place in their usual seats. Harry wasn’t even sure why he was here, but he couldn’t think of anything other he wanted to do.

“Did Voldemort take Ghoul Studies? I’d think amortality would be something he would be very interested in,” Harry questioned.

“He did indeed,” Dumbledore nodded. “One of the last years we had a class for it if I remember correctly. Of course, he had by then already created at least the Diary Horcrux. Lemon Drop, Harry?” he said, offering his bowl.

“Thanks,” Harry said, grabbing one. “You do love candy,” he observed, with a small teasing smile on his lips.

“Guilty,” the Headmaster said with a smile, “I have always had a sweet tooth, I must confess.”

They said in affable silence for a while, enjoying their sweets.

“What led you to walking the corridors alone this evening, if I may ask? Something troubling you, perhaps?”  

Harry sighed. “It’s Ron, sir. There was an … incident last night during the HA meeting. Today he didn’t come out of bed at all. He seemed sick? Well, not really sick, I guess, but I don’t think he was well.”

“Why do you say that?” Dumbledore asked.

“He just seemed, defeated I guess.”

Dumbledore made a contemplative noise and sighed. “Of course, you have both been going through some tough times. Combined with the breakneck schedule you have set for yourselves, it isn’t that unlikely to think either of you would have some sort of breakdown at some point.”

“It could just be today, he might be back to normal tomorrow,” Harry said hopefully.

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said, folding his fingers, “May I ask what happened yesterday?”

“Oh, Ron semi-seriously attacked three Hufflepuffs because he felt they weren’t taking the sessions seriously enough,” Harry said, “which, I can kind of understand, but at the same time we don’t want members to think they will be on the frontline, right?”

“No, we should not encourage them to recklessly put their lives in danger. But taking defence seriously is something that would not go amiss.” Dumbledore smiled at him then, “I suggest you keep an eye out on Mr Weasley and alert Professor McGonagall or Madame Pomfrey if you feel such a course of action would be necessary.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed.

“As I’m speaking to you anyway, Harry, I wanted to ask you two things. First of all, have you come up with a plan for getting Professor Slughorn’s memory?”

Harry had, even though he wasn’t sure they still needed it. “Professor Slughorn is hosting a Christmas party for the Slugclub. I’m hoping to strike at some point that evening.”

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore chuckled, “Horace’s famous Christmas parties. So, have you decided who to take as your guest?”

Harry stared at him for a moment and only just caught himself from swearing. Of course, Slughorn would be expecting them to bring dates. But who? Ginny and Luna were the obvious choices because they were his friends, but they were both dating so that would be out of the question, right? Ginny would be anyway, as she would be going with Dean. But he needed someone to help butter up Slughorn, so he couldn’t ask Parvati again, she had no idea about what was going on. The same was true for the other Griffindor girls. Luna didn’t either, but Harry trusted her.

“I take it you haven’t decided it yet?” Dumbledore concluded. “If I may give you some advice, Harry, because I think I know you well enough to guess what you’re thinking: you don’t have to choose someone that could help you with Professor Slughorn. Take it also as an opportunity to relax a little, and choose someone you would like to go with,” the Headmaster said with an encouraging smile.

Harry blushed a little. “I wouldn’t know who to ask, though,” he confessed.

“No girls at all?” Dumbledore enquiered. “Or boys?” he continued.

Harry spluttered a bit, “Boys? As a date?” he said. The thought had never even occurred to him. If he were to take Ron, it would probably be beneficial in his chances of getting the memory. He also was quite sure the social upheaval it would create would not outweigh that benefit.

“One of my biggest failures as Headmaster, if I do say so myself, has been my inability to create an environment in which students do not feel the need to hide who they are. Not everyone has the courage, or disregard of the opinion of others, that Miss Moon and Miss Lovegood have,” the Headmaster said, eyes twinkling. “I, myself, only realized after school, after telling myself for years that I had no interest in the girls of my age because my studies were more important than love. Of course, that was until I met him…” the Headmaster said, trailing off with a sigh, with a faraway look.  

Harry didn’t say anything. He had never known the Headmaster was gay, hadn’t even wondered why the man had never had a wife or children. It was just one of those things. Like he had never wondered whether McGonagall was, or had been, married. Or any of the other teachers. Except for Snape. Harry had no problem believing that he wasn’t married.

Apparently, he had been silent for a bit too long, because Dumbledore spoke up again. “My apologies, Harry, here you are again, listening to an old man rambling to you on a Saturday night.”

Harry was quick to reassure his Headmaster, “Oh, no, sir, it’s no problem. It just came as a bit of a surprise, I guess. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Dumbledore smiled sadly, “I wish it was more widely known, but the questions that would be asked would be, problematic for me, to some extend. I guess you could say that I’m still hiding,” he said, seemingly coming to some conclusion.

Harry was confused, “What sort of questions are you afraid of? I’m sorry if it’s too personal to ask,” he hastened to add. 

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment, playing with the supposed Horcrux ring on his finger. “My boy,” he said, smiling indulgently, “you have been asking personal questions ever since we met in front of the Mirror of Erised,” and then more seriously, “The questions would be problematic, due to the subject of my first, and only, love,” he said slowly.

“Was, or is, he muggle-born?” Harry questioned. Dumbledore let out a small, humourless laugh, that Harry had never heard the man make.

“No, he isn’t muggle-born,” he said. “I’d rather not go into details, it is still painful. Suffice it to say that when we met, Gellert was far from the man he would later become,” the Headmaster said, the pain he referred to clear in his voice.

The name did ring a bell for Harry, but it couldn’t be that Gellert, right?

“Gellert? Not like…?”

“Grindelwald?” Dumbledore said, “It’s hard to understand, I realize.”

“How did you meet?” Harry asked, after a moment of coming to terms with that idea. He wanted to know more but was afraid of asking too much and this was probably the safest subject.

“He came to stay with his Great-Aunt Bathilda Bagshot, who you should know as the author of your history books, who happened to be my neighbour when we were living in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Godric’s Hollow? That’s where my parents lived, right? When they left Potter House, I mean,” Harry said.

“If by Potter House you mean the manor, then yes. Am I correct in saying you’ve never been there, to Godric’s Hollow?”

“No, I never even thought about it, to be honest,” Harry said,  wondering to himself why he had never even asked Mr or Mrs Weasley.

“Would you be interested to visit? I’m sure either I or Remus would be willing to show you around, or both, which would be even safer.”

“I would!” Harry said enthusiastically, then, in a more subdued voice, “is that where they’re buried?”

Dumbledore looked at him with kind and warm eyes and nodded. “I’m sure we can arrange something during the Christmas Holidays, my boy.”

Harry smiled, “That’d be great, and that actually reminds me. I know I don’t get access to the Potter vault until I turn seventeen, but it must be possible for me to visit somehow?”

“I’m sure that can be rearranged somehow,” Dumbledore agreed.

Now Harry was curious, “What is the position of the Goblins during the war? I assume they are neutral? I only know they’ve heightened security measures.”

Dumbledore nodded, “They are neutral,” he said with a bit of a frown.

“Voldemort’s going to leave them alone?” Harry scoffed.

“No, I do not believe so, Gringotts is very powerful, Tom will want to have control,” the Headmaster said.

They sat then, just thinking about all the things they had discussed. Harry spent another half an hour or so in the Headmaster’s office, talking about all sorts of things.

-- In Her Memory –

The next day, Harry and Ginny spend a lot of time convincing Ron to come to Quidditch practice. His reluctance to play just furthered the idea that Ron had seemingly given up. This also meant that practice did not go well, making Harry actually cut it short. As this was the last practise for this term, Harry felt the Quidditch term had ended somewhat sour. He hoped Ron would be back to himself when they had to play Hufflepuff in March.

As Christmas was approaching, Harry had also begun sending letters to order the gifts he had planned. He loathed using his fame, but he convinced himself it was okay if he used it for a good cause. In this case, the cause was cheering up Ron. He had exchanged letters with the company that produced the Chocolate Frog Cards, asking whether it be possible for him to order a huge amount of Chocolate Frogs, with the caveat that he wanted to pay extra to ensure that Ptomely was one of the cards. This was the last one Ron still needed. He probably could have also just paid the company to send that specific card but he didn’t want it to be that obvious he had bought the card.

The conversation he had had with Mr and Mrs Weasley had given him more room to buy more expensive gifts. Which was great, but also a problem as it just gave him more options to choose from. Which meant he had to think harder about what and who to give things to.

Some people were easier to buy a present for than others. He could just buy something muggle for Mr Weasley, but he knew that Ginny and Ron would probably also do that, so Harry had the idea to pay for a night out for Mr and Mrs Weasley, either Muggle or Magical. He knew both were busy with Order work, and he assumed they would very much enjoy a night of relaxation. For Luna, he was thinking about something that would help her with her Parseltongue project or maybe a Muggle book on mythical creatures. He was also hoping to find something in the Potter vault that he could give to Ginny, assuming that he would be able to visit before Christmas. Otherwise, he would gift her a day at a muggle amusement park at some point.

He also hadn’t ever given the Twins a Christmas present, but since they were kind of doing research for him he felt he should. Besides, they had been friends for a long time. Same with Neville, but he figured he could give Neville something to do with training or something like that.

Monday morning came and Neville and Harry failed to convince Ron to come out of bed for their Defense self-study session. Harry thought this was a bit hypocritical, considering what Ron had said about the Hufflepuffs, but he was wary to call Ron out on it. He felt quite sure that it would not help if he did so.

He also didn’t join their workout session afterwards, so Harry spend most of his day alone, working on his homework.

Ron did show up at potions, though, which was the only class they had on Monday. He was clearly going to the motions, though, paying just enough attention to keep his cauldron from melting or exploding.

Tuesday saw Ron accompany Harry almost the entire day, but much more than just being there Ron didn’t do. Herbology went fine, but Charms and Transfiguration each saw Ron get extra homework due to the quality of his casting. Whereas for Harry, the extra animagus studies had paid off, resulting in him successfully transfiguring his eyebrow. Ron failed to even change the colour, something Harry was sure Ron could easily manage. Even more concerning was the total apathy with which Ron reacted, or rather not reacted, to his failures. Harry saw McGonagall looking at Ron, and Harry knew that at some point he had to do something.

That evening, during the first Hermione’s Army meeting after what had happened, Harry started the meeting by explaining why Ron had done what he did.

“Christmas is approaching,” he had begun, “a time for family and friends. It’s now been just over 6 months since I lost my godfather and my best friend. They were casualties of a war that they chose to fight in. But do not,” he said, really wanting to emphasize this point, “think that you are safe, just because you won’t be on the frontlines. The war will come for all of us, it will come for your friends and your family, your neighbours and your classmates. Even if you do not want to fight, chances are you might have to anyway.

Taking these meetings seriously might not only save your life but the lives of those around you. These meetings are not meant to prepare you for your exams. And no, the goal of these meetings is also not to turn you into soldiers, into an actual army. We do not expect you to fight with us. Even so, that does not mean we hold these meetings just for fun, even if we like to hang around for a bit after on Fridays. So, I implore you. Please take these meetings seriously, if not for yourself, then for your friends and family.”

He looked around at the attentive faces, happy to see the Hufflepuffs were there. He looked them in the eye and continued. “To Roger, Kevin and Adrian, I apologize for what Ron did last Friday. We, those involved with the war effort, are under enormous stress and I’m afraid that it just was a bit too much for Ron on Friday. I hope you can forgive him and understand why he did what he did, even though it was clearly the wrong way to go about it.”

The Hufflepuffs didn’t look entirely happy with that apology but they nodded nonetheless. Harry hoped that some of the words had made an impact. He found it incredibly difficult to explain why he felt that people needed to take this seriously if he, at the same time, wanted them to not have to fight at all.

-- In Her Memory –

Wednesday Harry again failed to convince Ron to join him and Neville in their Defense self-study. Luckily they only had Transfiguration as a class that day and they had an extra free evening now they were taking their Quidditch winter break.

Because they had a couple of hours extra, Harry and Ginny had conspired to force Ron to go see Madam Pomfrey.

They approached him in the common room before dinner, knowing that Ron probably wouldn’t go down to the Great Hall for it.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry began, “want to join me and Ginny for dinner in the kitchens?”

“Sure,” Ron responded carelessly, shrugging.

Harry did feel a bit sorry for the Hogwarts House Elves, crashing their dinner preparations like they were. But between Kreacher and an eager Dobby, they had dinner in front of them in no time.

They ate talking about different topics, like Luna’s parseltongue project and Ginny informing them about Seamus’ plans to get Neville a date with one of her dorm mates. Apparently, he hadn’t been very successful, because neither Ginny’s dorm mates nor Neville were very interested. Ginny also updated them on some of the more interesting Hogwarts rumours.

Apparently, the rumour mill had gone wild in speculation who Harry would take to the Slughorn Christmas party. It seemed the top candidates were Parvati and for some reason, Romilda Vane.

“Yeah,” Ginny said darkly when Harry expressed his incredulity when she told him that. “You better watch out, Harry. I’ve heard rumours she got her hands on some love potion, and is planning to dose you some way.” Then she groaned, “Oh, I can’t stand her. She better not go through with her harebrained idea. I will not stand for people trying to subvert someone’s free will,” she finished passionately, slapping the tabletop.

Half way through dessert, Ron, who hadn’t contributed to the conversation at all, sighed. “Okay, just spit it out.”

“What?” Harry responded stupidly.

Ron looked at him, then at Ginny. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know you’re up to something.”

Ginny slid her arm round his waist. “We want you to come with us to see Pomfrey.”

Ron didn’t respond immediately, he just sighed again. “Why?”

“Mate, you’re clearly not your-“ Harry started to say, but stopped when Ginny kicked him in the shin.

“Ron, you are not okay, right now,” she said from beneath Ron’s arm. “And that’s okay! I’m so proud of all the progress you have made the last months. Harry is too, right, Harry?”

“Yes!” Harry agreed, hoping he did sound as convinced as he was. He was proud of what Ron had done thus far this year.  

“Should’ve done so years ago,” Ron muttered.

“We can never know for sure whether that would’ve changed anything,” Harry responded, echoing what Dumbledore had said to him. “If you don’t blame me, you really shouldn’t blame yourself.” Not that he actually believed that, but he did know that Ron could not be blamed.

“I think you just took on too much, Ron,” Ginny said, squeezing him closer. Ron face contorted a bit.

“Harry hasn’t gone crazy, though,” he said morosely. “I’m just weak.”

“You are not crazy, Ron, don’t even joke about that!” Ginny said vehemently.

Harry took a different route, “You know why I haven’t ‘gone crazy’?”, he said, feeling wound up a bit. “The stress of these last months is nothing compared to what went on in my head last year! Homework? Try having Voldemort in your head for a year. Compared to that this year has been a breeze!”

“That’s exactly what I meant!” Ron said hotly, “You and Ginny both survived having him in your head, I can’t even handle Hermione’s study schedule for four months! Four months!” he said. “Hermione did even more than us for a whole year!”

“Comparing how bad you have it is not helpful,” Ginny said, shooting Harry a reproachful look, “This isn’t a competition. I’m sure Hermione would have been very proud of you for what you’ve done this term, Ron,” she said softly. Ron sniffled.

Harry stared at the tabletop. As always, he gladly deferred to Ginny’s experience with issues like this. “I merely meant, that while this year is probably Ron’s worst year, it’s just another worst year for me. I’m somewhat used to it by now,” he shrugged.

“And Ron,” Ginny continued, “you can’t say that Harry is good at dealing with it. Remember how he hid what Umbridge did to him? Or how he screamed at you and Hermione when he arrived at Grimmauld Place? Or how he got so caught up in his own misery he forgot about what he and I have in common?”

“Hey!” Harry said indignantly.

“Point is, Ron, you might think that Harry deals with the bullshit, but I’ll tell you he doesn’t.” She looked at Harry then. “Not in a healthy way at least. Remember Bill telling Mum that Harry really should see a Mind Healer?”

Ron nodded, and looked at Harry for fleeting moment.

“And if you want to do better,” Ginny said, squeezing Ron’s midriff again, “an important first step is realizing that even though you have to do it yourself, that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help. There are many people that care about you. Now why don’t we go see Pomfrey?”

Ron looked her in the eyes for a moment and then moved into to hug his sister. Harry felt a stab of envy in his heart. This was how a family was supposed to be.

“Okay,” Ron said softly. “Don’t know what good she’ll do, but okay. Probably just say that I’m tired again.”

Ginny smiled half-heartedly and the three of them made their way to the Hospital Wing.

Harry knocked on the door and they opened to see Madam Pomfrey walking toward them.

“Miss Weasley?” the Matron enquired.

“I’m not sure, Madam Pomfrey, but I suspect my brother isn’t well,” Ginny answered.

“Not here for Potter, then?” Pomfrey asked, shooting a dubious looked Harry.

 “Not yet, no,” Ginny smiled. Harry felt he missed something.

“Alright then, Mr Weasley, if you could sit down here, please,” she led Ron to a bed and sat him down on the side.

Wand in hand, the matron waved this way and that way, muttering this and that, causing different lights to wash over Ron. A quill was automatically recording the findings. Seeing a chance to learn some more Healing Magic, Harry asked what she was doing.

Pomfrey stopped for a moment, apparently distracted by the fact that she was asked to explain. She seemed to appreciate it though, as she begin to explain.

“Normally, you’d start with trying to create overview of general health. But considering I saw Mr Weasley back in October and there is nothing obviously wrong, I skipped that step and am now measuring his magical fitness,” she explained and then frowned as the results came in. A dark red light surrounded Ron.

“What does that mean?” he asked, looking at his hands.

“It means you are magically exhausted,” Pomfrey answered, “but in this case not from over-use, am I right?”

“No,” Ron said, shooking his head.

“I don’t need magic to see you look peaky and tired, how are you feeling physically?” the Matron continued.

“Tired from all the workouts we do,” Ron said, nodding to Harry. Harry knew this wasn’t true though. Ron had not joined them this week, and he himself hadn’t had muscle aches for at least month now.

“Hmm,” the Matrons said, clearly also not believing that. “A workout normally only tires out your muscular system, not your nervous system, Mr Weasley,” she said, tutting softly, “which is what has happened to you. Your nervous system is exhausted. How are you mentally?”

Ron didn’t answer, just looked away and sighed yet again.

“A bit depressed, I imagine,” Ginny commented.

“So, to conclude,” the Matron began, “you’re exhausted, magically, physically and mentally. And probably also emotionally,” the Matron concluded. She read over the rapport again. She frowned. “Tell me, Mr Weasley” she said slowly, “have you come into contact with Cheering Charms?”

Ron’s face became ever paler.

“Oh, yeah, we have been experimenting with –“ Harry began to add, but he stopped. Ron had not participated with their Cheering Charms experiment, had he?

“Have you been casting them on each other multiple times a day?” the Matron enquired, looking at Harry sternly.

“Me and Neville, yeah, not everyday though. Ron didn’t participate,” he was fast to answer.

“When was this?” Ginny asked suspiciously.

“We started with the experiments two weeks ago, I think?” Harry said.

“So, the week before his mood got bad again?”

“Uh, actually, yeah, I think so,” Harry said slowly, “why?”

Ginny’s face looked heartbroken. “Oh, Ron,” she said softly. “You’ve been using Cheering Charms, right?”

Ron didn’t respond to that but his crestfallen face told the entire story.

The Matron looked outraged. “That would certainly explain the Magical Exhaustion. I gather you used them for some time, then tried to stop because you knew they were addictive, and what we have in front of us is to some extent the result of withdrawals?”

Ron looked angry and his jaw clenched, but he nodded. Harry felt sick. How had he missed this?

“While clearly not a great idea, I must commend you for understanding the dangerous path you were on, and getting off it before it got too bad,” Madam Pomfrey said. Harry was surprised at her tone of voice. He expected her to chew Ron out for being stupid but she sounded understanding, to some degree at least.

“Now, I’ll keep you overnight. Some dreamless sleep potion wouldn’t go amiss, and then tomorrow we will inform your parents of what has happened,” the Matron said. Ron swallowed loudly and Ginny grimaced. That would not be a happy conversation.

With that, the Matron went to fix the bedlinen and the potions. Ron sat on his bed twiddling his thumbs, making a point of not looking at Harry or Ginny. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Harry felt his heart break for his friend. All this would never have happened if Ron had not sat in the compartment with him during their first trip on the Hogwarts express. If anyone had to apologise, it was him.

“No, mate. I’m sorry. For not paying more attention, for constantly getting you in dangerous situations, for -,” he said, before once again being cut off by Ginny.

“The only person who will be sorry for all of this is Tom,” she snarled. “I don’t know who will deliver the final blow, but I hope I’m there to see it.” She said.

Harry swallowed heavily. Ginny was right. The only way Harry could make all this better was to, once and for all, rid the world of Voldemort, his followers, and if he lived long enough to do so, make sure something like this never happened again.

Chapter Text

After a long discussion between Mr and Mrs Weasley, McGonagall, Dumbledore and Pomfrey, it was decided that Ron would stay at Hogwarts for the remainder of the term. Considering there was only eight days left, this wasn’t too surprising. Harry was glad though. Being at Hogwarts without Hermione had been, and was still, weird enough. If Ron had been gone as well, Hogwarts might suddenly look very big, and not at all the home it had been to him for the past five and a half years.

Because Ron had seen Madam Pomfrey, he was also exempted from homework for the rest of term. He was discharged from the Hospital Wing on Friday, with instructions to try to increase his workload slowly, while not shying away from physical activity. Apparently, physical activity was supposed to be good for your mental health.

Harry swore to himself that he’d be by Ron’s side until they were back at the burrow. The only issue with that was that Harry couldn’t attend the HA meeting on the last Friday of term, as he had to go to Slughorn’s Christmas party. This meant that Ron would have to lead the session. Harry had already asked Neville if he wanted to help. As the third person in their Defense self-study trio, he would be more than up to task, Harry thought.

However, another problem was that Harry still hadn’t decided on a partner. He felt the time was beginning to run out, especially considering the way that Romilda’s hawkeyed glance followed him around whenever he was in her vicinity.

Then, on Tuesday, he was forced to make a choice during the second-to-last HA meeting of the term, when Ginny cornered him.

“So, Potter, I think it’s time you decide who you want to take to the party with you.”

“I have no idea,” Harry lamented. “I need someone to help me butter up Slughorn,” he added in a whisper.

Ginny looked confused for a moment and then understanding showed in her eyes. “For Dumbledore, right?” she whispered back

Harry nodded.

Ginny bit her lip. “Well, I’m going to be there, of course,” she said thinking out loud.

“I know, but I don’t want to steal your date with Dean,” Harry said truthfully.

“Oh, that’s alright,” Ginny said, waving that concern away. “He always treats me like I’m some sort of princess anyway, he won’t complain,” she said grumbling. She didn’t seem to be very happy with that attitude, something that baffled Harry. Didn’t girls want to be treated like that?

He couldn’t help but remark. “Doesn’t seem like that when he is snogging you like his life depends on it in the common room.”

“Watch it, Potter,” Ginny said, narrowing her eyes. Then she shrugged, “He’s a boy, he can’t help it when I initiate.”

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly.

“Anyway, I think I have a solution for you,” Ginny continued. “Just ask Luna to go with you as a friend, she can entertain Dean by talking about art, and then we can butter up old sluggy. I’m sure Lily won’t mind if you explain to her that you want to ask Luna as a friend, and as a friend only.”

“I didn’t want to meddle in their relationship like that,” Harry admitted.

“Nah,” Ginny said, waving her hand about, “just make sure you ask Lily if she’s okay with it before you ask Luna.”

Harry decided to follow that advice, and after the end of the meeting, he asked Lily if he could talk with her for a second. Together they walked a couple of meters away from the crowd, and Harry cast a muffliato.

“What charm was that?” Lily asked interestedly.

“It’s called the Muffliato Charm, it creates a buzzing sound in the ears of those near you. It’s quite useful when you don’t want to be overheard and are in a loud environment,” Harry explained.

“You don’t want to be overheard?” she questioned.

“Well, no,” Harry said, with a smile, “but it has also become something of a reflex.”

Lily looked at him quizzically and Harry realized that to someone who was not involved with the craziness that was his life, that statement might sound shady.

“Okay…?” Lily said slowly.

“So, you know about Slughorn’s Christmas party on Friday, right? I wanted to ask whether you’d be okay with me asking Luna to come as my guest, as a friend,” he emphasized.

“Oh,” Lily said, looking away, frowning. “Why Luna?”

“There’s no one I’d actually want to go with me as a date, so I wanted to go as a friend, and Ginny’s already going with Dean,” he explained.

“You could ask Sophie,” Lily suggested,“Or Parvati or Lavender.”

“I could,” Harry said slowly. Lily looked at him. Harry got the feeling she wasn’t particularly alright with the idea.

“Well, you can ask her, I guess,” Lily said reluctantly.

“Great!” Harry said with a smile, and he waved his wand to dismantle the muffliato. He looked over to the crowd but Luna was already gone. He walked over to Ginny.

“Luna went back to Ravenclaw tower?”

Ginny nodded, “You can probably still catch her if you hurry up!”

“Great!”. Harry quickly left the Room of Requirement. Outside, he just saw a wink of blonde hair walking around a corner, so he shouted “Luna, wait!” and ran after her.

He turned the corner and saw Luna had stopped right after the corner. He had to twist around to avoid hitting her, resulting in him tripping. This time he didn’t catch himself and he landed on the floor.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, looking down at him. “This is the second time this term you’ve almost run into to me,” she remarked, “but this time there no wrackspurts around. Actually, just a couple of Kriebis,” she said. Harry got up.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he said, waving his hand toward an unused classroom they were standing near. They walked in.

“You know about Slughorn’s Christmas Party, right?” he began.

Luna nodded, “I heard a Vampire was coming,” she said.

“So, I wanted – wait, really?” Harry said, momentarily distracted.

“Yes, I was hoping to interview him, or her, for the Quibbler.”

“Oh, that’s great then,” Harry said, “because I wondered whether you wanted to come with me to the party, as friends.” Then, when Luna just looked at him with wide eyes, he hastened to add, “I already talked to Lily about it, she’s okay with it.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed slightly, which in her case just made her eyes look the size they were for other people. “Why would you ask Lily?” she wondered.

“Oh, I thought it might be weird if I just asked you without asking Lily,” he said.

“But why?” Luna said, cocking her head.

“Er, because you two are dating?” Harry said slowly.

“Yes, we are,” Luna said with a bright smile.

“So, that’s why I asked Lily whether I could ask you,” Harry explained.

“But why?” she repeated again. Harry wasn’t sure what part she wasn’t getting. Wasn’t it obvious?

“I can’t just go ask you, where you’re dating someone else!” he exclaimed.

“You can’t?” Luna looked thoughtful. Then she didn’t speak for a long moment.

“But if you don’t want to…” Harry said, trailing off hopefully.

Luna brightened again. “Oh, but I do want to! I’d love to go with you as friends! No one has ever asked me to go to any party!” Her wide smile was enough, to make Harry smile himself. He liked seeing Luna so happy.

“Great! I’ll meet you on Friday, at eight o’clock in the Entrance Hall, okay?” he suggested.

“Yay!” Luna said, “I’m so excited!” And she looked it too. She was bouncing slightly as they walked out of the classroom.

-- In Her Memory –

That Friday, an hour before Harry had to meet Luna in the Great Hall, he was looking into a mirror in his common room. Neville, Seamus and Ron had already left, they were headed for the HA meeting. Harry was a bit jealous, if he was honest. Seamus had suggested they hold a bit of a Chrismas Party themselves, like they had last year. Harry immediately called Dobby to forbid him from decorating the room with Harry Potter-themed stuff.

Harry frowned as he looked at his reflection. He really should have realized that his only dress robes wouldn’t fit anymore. Not that Luna would care, but he knew Slughorn would. In the background he heard Dean getting himself ready. He sighed, what to do? He could try an extension charm, but he wasn’t sure whether that work. In the reflection, he spotted the box of Chocolate Cauldrons given to him by Romilda Vane, stuffed under his bed.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” Deans voice came from somewhere behind him. Harry turned around and looked at his dorm mate, and chuckled. “I guess I forgot to buy new dress robes last summer, my old ones don’t fit anymore.”

Dean laughed, “Yeah, you’re showing a lot of ankle there mate,” he said, “probably too provocative for a party like this.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I don’t really know what to do, though.”

“I could try an extension charm for them if you want? I’ve done so before,” Dean suggested.

“Go for it!” Harry said, glad to take the help. He remembered that Dean had experience with the charms. After all, Dean had had an enormous growth spurt last year and it only took one detention with Umbridge, for his robes being too short, for him to make sure that would never be an issue anymore.

After a couple of minutes of very careful casting, Harry’s dress robes fit again.

“Thanks, Dean, I owe you!”

Dean waved it away, “Might want to comb your hair, though,” he said.

Harry laughed self-deprecatively. “Actually, I can’t. Apparently it’s cursed to stay like this.”

“Really?”

Harry nodded, shrugging.

“You do live a strange life, Harry,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Don’t I know it,” Harry responded dryly.

When Harry, Dean and Ginny descended the staircase into the Great Hall together, Harry walking a few paces in front of the couple, they saw an unusually large amount of girls hanging around. As he made his way down, they as one looked at him and started murmuring to each other.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long, as Luna arrived only a minute later. She was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that was attracting a certain amount of giggling from the lingering girls. Harry thought she looked quite nice, especially because she didn’t wear any of her more, peculiar accessories.

“Hi Ginny, Dean. Hello, Harry,” she greeted them with a bright smile. “I’m so excited!”

Harry smiled at her, vowing to himself that he would make sure she had a nice time, even if he had a mission to fulfil.

“Hello, Luna,” he greeted his friend-date. Should he give a compliment on how she looked? Or would that be weird?

“You look great, Lu!” Ginny said, grinning at her. This gave Harry the perfect opportunity to say he thought so to.

Luna smiled again, even though Harry could hear some of the girls in the hall make disbelieving noises.

“Shall we go then?” he said.

-- In Her Memory –

Forty minutes later, Harry was getting tired of Slughorn verbally frogmarching him around the party, introducing him to “important people”. Still, it wasn’t all bad, judging from Ginny’s wide-eyed look as she soaked in every word Gwenog Jones, the Holyhead Harpies captain, spoke to her and Dean.

Luna had also gotten her wish. To some extent, at least. There was indeed a vampire in attendance, but it wasn’t Scrimgeour, who Luna had hoped it was. Harry had decided not to comment on it. But Luna had managed to land an interview with Eldrew Worple, an author, and his friend Sanguini, a vampire. She seemed happy with it.

He also had had a nasty shock, when he was ambushed by none other than Romilda Vane, who had come to the party with Cormac McLaggen. McLaggen didn’t seem to act any different than normal so Harry assumed he hadn’t been dosed with Love Potion. He was just about to promise Romilda he would spend an hour with her after Christmas, just so she would leave him alone in the meantime when he was rescued by Professor Trewlany of all people.

This led to both Slughorn and, to Harry’s horror, Snape joining them. Harry silently marveled at Snape’s skill in pretending the conversation didn’t include Harry.

His mood increased tremendously, however, when Filch approached dragging Malfoy with him. This was the first time in weeks that Harry had the opportunity to study Malfoy for longer than a single glance. He was shocked at how bad he looked. Malfoy’s pale skin made the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced. He didn’t look that much different from Sanguini the Vampire. He inwardly groaned, hoping this wasn’t the result of the curse he had used on Malfoy. But no, Harry realized, as he listened to Malfoy, Slughorn, Filch and Snape discussing, there was more than just physical discomfort.

Malfoy looked angry, even a little afraid. It sparked Harry’s interest.

When Snape marched Malfoy out of the party, Harry found himself on a crossroads. He desperately wanted to follow Snape and Malfoy, but he hadn’t yet achieved his goal.

Although, Harry thought, if I am going to corner Slughorn someway, it’ll have to be at the end of the party. He looked around, the party was clearly not even close to winding down.

Decision made, he turned to Luna. “Er, Luna, I’m going to go –“

“- Go be Harry Potter,” Luna said cheerfully.

“Right,” Harry smiled embarrassedly. As he tried to sneak out of the party, he could distinctively hear Luna tell him to “have fun!”

He shook his head. Luna may be smart, but she clearly didn’t understand the concept of stealth, Harry thought fondly.

-- In Her Memory –

Harry made his way back to the party, saying a silent thank you to Dumbledore for insisting on always keeping his invisibility cloak with him. His head was working overtime. What in the hell had he just overheard?

As he slowly walked back, the things he had heard connected with the things he had noticed. Malfoy had been given some sort of task. Harry would bet his Gringotts Vault on that being what Malfoy was doing in the Room of Requirement, and why Crabbe and Goyle were standing around that corridor. That would also explain the comment Malfoy had made, about having more important things to do than playing quidditch. But what task did the Slytherin have? Harry was sure Malfoy had been lying when he said he had nothing to do with it. But what was ‘it’?

And who had given him the task? It hadn’t been his father, that was for sure. Malfoy’s emphasized use of him, had made Harry’s hairs on his neck stand up. That could mean only one person, right? If Voldemort had given Malfoy a task, that would explain why Malfoy was looking sick and afraid.

His mind wandered back to the duel they had had, the way Malfoy grabbed his lower arm, and the black he had seen through one of the cuts he had made… “No, way,´ Harry thought. It couldn’t be what he thought it was, right? Was it likely that Voldemort would recruit someone still at Hogwarts? Even mark him?

Yes, he would, Harry concluded angrily. He, and Lucius both, had shown no issues with using Ginny for their schemes. So, Malfoy, with his parents and his Aunt being deep into Voldemort's inner circle, was actually very likely to be recruited early.

Then there was Snape. That slimy, two-face, evil, git! Harry seethed. Dumbledore trusted him, and there he was, going behind the Headmasters back, trying to aid Malfoy. And what was that business about an Unbreakable Vow? What was that?

He stopped walking. The party was to the left, and both the Gryffindor common room and the Headmaster’s office were straight ahead. He breathed in deeply. His brain was still firing on all cylinders.

Alright, Harry, he thought to himself, one thing at a time. There was nothing he could do about what he had heard, right now, except try to seek out Dumbledore. But he had told the Headmaster that he was going to try to get the memory tonight, so he couldn’t just not try and then show up. There was also, the fact that he had left Luna at the party.

He grudgingly made his way back to the party, wearing his invisibility cloak. He sneaked upon on Luna, who was speaking with Sanguini again in a corner of the room. He waited for a moment, then saw his chance when Sanguini was distracted by a group of girls walking past. He quickly walked over and removed the cloak.

“Hey, Luna, are you enjoying the party?” he said, through a fake smile.

Luna started and turned around. “Hi, Harry, yes, I am!”

“Great,” he said, smiling in earnest this time, “want to go check where Ginny and Dean are?”

“Sure!” Luna said cheerfully. They made their way through the room. As they walked past the ancient gramophone, Luna turned around and said something, but because of the loud music, he couldn’t hear her.

He leaned forward, and she stood up on her toes and said in his ear, “Ginny told me that you and she had something to do tonight?”

Harry, who had been distracted by the smell of butterbeer on Luna’s breath and the sweet smell of something he couldn’t place, didn’t answer immediately. Where had he smelt that mix of smells before?

“Oh, she told you?” he said when he remembered he had to answer.

“She said I would have to distract Dean at some point,” Luna said, “we can talk about art!”

“Yes, you can,” Harry said laughing. He leaned in again, “I hope you’re not drinking too much butterbeer,” he said, honestly a bit concerned.

“Oh, that’s okay, Ginny has been diluting my drinks with water,” Luna answered, “Ginny always takes care of me,” she said, losing focus in her eyes for a second, probably thinking back to some previous event. She then hummed something that sounded like “Weasley is our king”.

They made their way over to where Ginny and Dean were standing. Luna immediately started asking Dean about his latest projects. Ginny winked at Harry. He smiled broadly, and then looked around, scouting the room for Slughorn. He was talking to some Harry didn’t know.

“We’ll need a conversation starter of some sort,” he said to Ginny.

“Easy,” Ginny said, “Let’s give it thirty minutes, then you ask him to talk in private. How’s that?”

Harry didn’t have a better idea, so they made their way over, grabbing drinks on the way there.

As it turned out, they didn’t need a conversation starter.

“Harry, m’boy! And Miss Weasley!” Slughorn said jovially as they approached. He put his hands on their shoulders.

“Let me take a look at the two of you,” the man said, with even more exuberance than normal. Harry suspected he had been enjoying the drinks.

“I just saw the two of you from behind,” Slughorn explained, “and for a moment I thought I saw James and Lily Potter reborn!” He smiled sadly. “But from this angle, you don’t look like Lily that much, Miss Weasley.”

“I’m… sorry?” Ginny said confusedly. Harry blushed in embarrassment, being linked like that with Ginny.

“My apologies, Miss Weasley,” Slughorn said, shaking of his lamenting. “When one reaches my age, Christmas often becomes a time to think back on all those you’ve lost. But don’t let this old man keep you from enjoying the festivities!”

“Oh, that’s okay, Professor,” Harry said honestly, “I enjoy hearing about my parents.”

“And I hope the party is not done yet?” Ginny said, acting hopefully, “I’m enjoying it ever so much.”

Harry almost choked on the butterbeer he had just swallowed. Ginny smiled wickedly at him. Slughorn didn’t seem to notice how fake that had sounded.

“I’m happy to hear that!” Slughorn beamed, “and am I correct in stating I saw you talking with Gwenog Jones? Any aspirations to go pro?”

Ginny looked at Harry quickly, and held his gaze as she said. “Actually, yeah, I have been thinking about it. Talking with Gwenog gave me a better idea of how to prepare myself!”

“That would be awesome, Ginny! I’m sure you’ll have no trouble!” Harry said, genuinely enthusiastic. Now, he understood what McGonagall had meant when she said Ginny’s idea for a reserve team was mostly for her own benefit.

“And that means, something coming from your Quidditch Captain!” Slughorn boomed.

They made small talk for the next couple of minutes. Ginny just knew the right question to ask, and Harry was glad for her taking charge. She made sure to ask questions or make statements that Harry could speak on. They continued like this until Ginny squeezed his arm, raised her eyebrows and nodded her head.

“Professor, there was something I hoped I could discuss with you. In private,” he added in whispers.

“Of course, Harry, my boy. Let’s go into my office!”

Harry followed him, stopping here and there to let Slughorn talk with people for a sentence or three.

As they entered Slughorn’s office, the Potion Professor was the first to speak up. “Now, Harry, have you had any success with the potion we brewed?”

Harry hadn’t even realized they had never told Slughorn what had happened. It did give him an opportunity, though.

“Oh, well, yes, and no. The potion did work, but something happened that is preventing me from continuing to the next phase,” he said. He was taking a risk here, but he thought being honest would help Slughorn trust him. Well, honest to some extent at least.

Slughorn’s brow furrowed. “Something is preventing you from continuing the Animagus process? I don’t believe I have ever heard of something like that. Do you have an idea what the problem is?”

Harry hesitated slightly. He made a point of looking around the office. “We cannot be overheard, right?”

Slughorn waved his wand to activate his wards, and Harry could hear the volume of the party dwindle to non-existent.

“And I can trust you with another secret, Professor?”

“Of course, Harry, of course!” Slughorn said eagerly.

“The reason I can’t move on to the next phase is that my Animagus form wants something from me, something very important. Which is actually why I wanted to talk to you in private, because I know you can help me,” he explained.

“Well, why don’t you explain what it is, and I’ll see what I can do,” Slughorn said genially.

“Professor, have you read the Daily Prophet over the summer? Have you seen how they keep referring to me?" Harry said.

“ ‘The Chosen One’,” Slughorn scoffed, “the Prophet has indeed been becoming more sensationalist by the year, I really should-“

“They’re right. It’s true,” Harry said, interrupting Slughorn. The professor's face whitened dramatically.

“You are the Chosen One?” he whispered with wide eyes.

“I am,” Harry confirmed calmly. “And I need to defeat Voldemort before my Animagus form accepts me,” he continued, not stopping when Slughorn let out a frightened meep when he spoke the name, “And I need your help to do so.”

“You’re asking me … you’re asking me to, what are you asking me?” Slughorn said, stumbling over his words, the fear clear in his voice. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

“I’m not asking you to fight or anything, the only thing I want is information.”

“What kind of information?” Slughorn said weakly.

“I need to know what you told Tom Riddle about Horcruxes,” Harry said firmly.

Slughorn stumbled backwards, falling backwards into his chair. “Dumbledore,” he whispered. “Dumbledore put you up to this!” he accused Harry.

“Yes,” Harry said baldly.

Slughorn looked angry, “Well, then you know that I don’t know anything about Horcruxes.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, professor,” Harry roughly, “I bet he asked about creating seven, right?”

“How do you –“ Slughorn began, but Harry kept talking.

“That’s why he didn’t die after he killed my Mum and Dad, because he had created Horcruxes. That’s how he came back two years ago. If my mum hadn’t sacrificed herself to save me,” Harry rolled on through, hitting every weakness he knew Slughorn possessed, “if I had died and Voldemort had lived, we might have never known about the Horcruxes. Then you would have been the only one with that knowledge.”

Slughorn was shaking his head but looked unwillingly and morbidly curious.

“I need that memory, I need your help to defeat the wizard that killed Lily Evans.”

Slughorn was speechless and clearly terrified.

“I won’t blame you for anything,” Harry promised, “Except if you decide to not be brave like my mother was. But if you do, you’ll fix everything you might blame yourself for.”

Slughorn just stared at him, tears forming in his eyes.

-- In Her Memory –

When Harry walked back into the party, the memory in a glass vial in his pocket, he smiled broadly at Ginny. She smiled back, having received his message. He then looked around for Luna. He spotted her talking with the Slytherin girl that sometimes came to the HA meetings. As the party had progressed, people had let loose and there was some dancing going on. Feeling good about having achieved his mission, he walked over to Luna. As he approached, the Slytherin girl’s eyes widened and she bid a hasty goodbye to Luna.

Luna turned around and smiled up at him. “Hi, Harry!” she said enthusiastically, her eyes as wide as always. Her cheeks were red and, even watered-down, the butterbeer was clearly starting to have some effect.

“Hey, Luna, I’m done with what I needed to do,” he said.

Luna’s eyes widened even more, in an eager fashion. “Yay!” she half-squealed, “Then we can go dancing!” and without warning, she grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him over to where people were dancing.

Harry leaned in to tell her that he did have to go speak with Dumbledore, but Luna ignored him. He smelled that smell again.

Harry’s only experience with dancing was the Yule Ball, and while that hadn’t been a complete disaster, at least, when it came to the formal part of the dancing, he still had no idea what to do. Luna seemed to dance to her own beat, because Harry was quite sure she wasn’t in time with the music. Somehow, she pulled it off, though, even if her dance moves were attracting a lot of attention. She was currently slowly turning around and around, waving her hands above her head with her eyes closed. Harry just, sort of, stood there, tapping his foot.

“Oh, come on, Harry,” Luna said, her eyes still closed, “you can do better than that!”

She grabbed his hands and moved them about, making Harry look like some sort of puppet-zombie. He couldn’t help but laugh as he imagined how that looked from the outside. He could hear Ginny’s laugh from somewhere to the side. He had to admit that it felt nice, to just let loose for a moment.

Luna opened her eyes and they gazed at each other for a moment. Luna smiled at him with such an open, joyous expression in her eyes that it made Harry blush.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Luna made their way to Ravenclaw common room. Ginny and Dean had left earlier. Harry had managed to let loose for about ten minutes before he decided that he needed to go to Dumbledore. Luna had pouted, which had almost made Harry stay, but she came along willingly.

Together they walked to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room, while Luna updated Harry on her Parseltongue Project. She had managed to create a quill that transcribed her words into the English phonetic alphabet rather than the actual alphabet. For the next step she needed Harry. He had to sit with her quill and say something in Parseltongue. Whatever the quill would transcribe would determine their next steps.

“And you want to try to create a Runic alphabet, right?” he questioned.

“Yes,” Luna confirmed, “I was hoping for your help there also. I was hoping the Chamber of Secrets might have some clues for that.”

“You want me to take you down there?” Harry said surprised.

She nodded and moved closer to him. She whispered. “I need you to protect me from the Blibbering Humdingers down there. Ginny was infested by them after she was taken.”

“Right,” Hary said. “We’ll figure something out,” he promised.

Luna steered them to a side corridor. Harry was amused to see the entrance was a door sporting a bronze knocker, in the form of an Eagle.

Luna went up to it, and the Eagle came to life. “What is always in front of you but can’t be seen by most?”

“The password is a riddle?” Harry asked surprised.

“The riddle only changes every other day, so I know the answer,” she answered distractedly. “I like to think of new answers, though,” she told him.

Of course, Harry thought with fondness.

“I guess.. maybe…,” Luna murmured. Then she straightened up. “Eyes!” she said to the eagle.

“How so?” it demanded.

“We are our brains, so our eyes are in front of us,” she declared, “and because we see with our eyes, we can’t see our eyes.”

The Eagle just said, “You forgot the existence of mirrors.”

“Awh,” Luna said dejectedly, “That’s right. In that case, the answer is ‘the future.”

Harry could swear the Eagle rolled its eyes before the door opened. Luna looked at him.

“I think I’m supposed to say ‘ Well, this is me,’” she said with a small smile, “at least, that is what the girls in Ginny’s books always say to the boy when he brings her home.”

Harry quickly stored that information away as a possible means to tease Ginny. Then Luna walked up to him and hugged him.

“I had fun, Harry, thank you,” she said before standing up on her tiptoes and kissing Harry on the cheek. Harry was so shocked, that he almost forgot to wish her good night.

He could feel the kiss on his cheek all the way toward the Headmaster’s office.

-- In Her Memory –

“Harry?” Dumbledore said, coming down the stairs to his private chambers, buttoning a robe over what, to Harry’s horror, seemed to be a nightshirt. “To what do I owe this late visit?”

“I got it!” Harry said excitedly, pulling the vial from his pocket. “I’ve got Slughorn’s memory!”

The Headmaster looked stunned for a moment before his face split into a wide smile.

“That is spectacular news, Harry! Very well done indeed!”

A minute of five later, Harry and Dumbledore had returned from the Pensieve.

“It’s what we expected,” Harry remarked.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, “but now we know for sure.”

“What now?” Harry asked.

“Now, I will intensify my search for objects that might be, and places that might store, Horcruxes.

Harry was just about to ask whether he had any clues to go on when one of Dumbledore’s instruments went haywire.

Dumbledore spun around to grab it and studied it for a moment. He grabbed his wand and multiple Phoenix Patroni shot in every direction. Something was wrong.

“Professor, what’s happening?”

“Come with me, Harry, and stay close. Wand out.” Dumbledore commanded instead. Harry got up and they made their way down the staircase, not even stopping for the Headmaster to transfigure his clothes into something more appropriate.

When they stepped outside, Harry could hear quick footsteps coming in their direction.

Not a moment later, Flitwick and McGonagall came racing around the corner. In the distance, Harry thought he could hear Mad-Eye’s characteristic thud coming closer as well.

“Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked worriedly.

The Headmaster looked sad for a moment. “The wards just indicated to me that someone within Hogwarts has died.”

Harry’s heart stopped, and the fact he froze was the only reason he didn’t join Flitwick and McGonagall in their cries of dismay. The Headmaster didn’t waste a second to give his commands, however.

“Filius, you contact the ghosts and Argus. Minerva, you inform the other teachers and the Head Boy and Girl. I have already notified Poppy. We can’t be sure what has happened, so we need to assume the worst, but we also need to find out what has happened. I’ll meet Alastor and the other Aurors.”

“Do we raise the alarm for the students?” Flitwick asked. The headmaster shook his head, “They should be safe in their dormitories, assuming what has happened hasn’t happened there.”

The next five minutes were a whirlwind of short Patronus messages, ghosts popping in and out of walls, and quick words with the Aurors.

Then a silver cat appeared in front of them, speaking in the voice of McGonagall.

“Horace has not responded yet,”

Harry’s insides froze, and his mind jumped to the worst conclusions he could imagine. Had he been too rough in his desire to get the memory?

Because he had stopped walking, Dumbledore stopped also and turned around.

“Harry, it’s too early to conclude anything,” he said. “Let’s hurry to Horace’s office,” and with that, they hurried their way there. Harry took a moment to marvel at how fast the Headmaster was moving, even in his old age.

They met Mad-Eye on the way there, who greeted them gruffly.

“Slughorn?” he informed. The Headmaster nodded and quickened his pace yet again.

When they approached Slughorn's offices Harry saw that the party had ended some time ago. The door to Slughorn’s office was closed.

The Headmaster knocked loudly, “Horace?” he called. No response. Harry swallowed.

After Slughorn failed to answer a second call, the Headmaster waved his wand to override the protective enchantments on the door and pushed it open.

Harry’s stomach plummeted.

Slughorn was lying on the floor, still, with foam coming from his mouth. Next to his hand, a crystal tumbler lay on the ground, the liquid it held spilt on the floor.

“Oh, Horace,” Dumbledore sighed sadly. Mad-Eye made his way over and started casting spells. He turned to Dumbledore, “Most probably poisoned,” he grunted. “I can give you a minute before I have to report to the actual Aurors,” he grimaced, his opinion of those Aurors clear in his voice.

The Headmaster nodded and Mad-Eye left. Dumbledore waved his wand. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes from the lifeless form of the man he had just spent an entire evening buttering up. Unwillingly, the thought that at least his secrets would be safe for now crept into his minded. He shivered.

The Headmaster finished his casting and sighed and turned to Harry.

“Horace was poisoned, and I’m quite sure that he did not do so on purpose,” he said gravely.

“How do you know?” Harry questioned weakly, hoping Dumbledore was right.

“I’ve known Horace for decades, if he were to poison himself, I very much doubt he’d choose such an expensive drink to do so with,” he said, nodding to an opened bottle on the table. “But more importantly, the residual magic in the room suggests otherwise, it lacks the spiked nature you’d expect if it was self-inflicted.”

Dumbledore walked out of the office, with Harry in tow, and they waited for the Aurors and the Professor’s search of the castle to finish.

Harry watched as the Aurors sealed Slughorn’s office in Crime Scene charms. One of them stood in the room for multiple minutes, studying every part. Dumbledore explained she was recording the room into her memory, so they could then use the Auror’s Pensieve to revisit the crime scene.

They left them to their business and they walked toward Professor McGonagall who was hurriedly heading their way. “Horace?” she whispered. The Headmaster shook his head.

McGonagall put her hand on her chest, “Oh, Merlin, what happened?”

After the Headmaster explained what they thought had happened, McGonagall fixed her eyes on Harry.

“And why are you here, Mr Potter?”

“Harry and I had business tonight,” Dumbledore explained, “but we’ll have to continue that another day, Harry.” Harry nodded.

As McGonagall escorted Harry to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry realized he hadn’t even told Dumbledore about what Snape and Malfoy had said to each other. And where had Snape been during the search?  

Chapter Text

The authorities, both at Hogwarts and at the Ministry, had decided to not inform the Hogwarts students the next morning, figuring that they would read all about Slughorn’s passing in the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry had broken during the train ride. It wouldn’t hurt to let Neville, Ginny, Luna and Ron know. After their initial shock, they all agreed that the person behind the poisoning was most likely the same one that had put Katie in St Mungo’s.

Harry suspected Malfoy because it seemed like the sort of “task” the boy had been talking about. Especially if he was carrying it out for Voldemort. Even so, he wasn’t sure Malfoy had it in him to take someone’s life, even with poison. He wondered whether Slughorn had been the target for the necklace as well, as they knew for certain that Katie had just been part of the delivery. Slughorn had been on the run during the summer, he seemed to be an obvious target for Voldemort. So, Harry was sure that Malfoy had succeeded with his task.

After telling him what had happened with Slughorn, Ginny immediately began whispering to Harry about how it wasn’t his fault. Ron probably agreed but he was still apathetic about most things. And Harry didn’t feel as guilty as he might have expected. He couldn’t be blamed for the fact someone had given Slughorn poisoned mead, this he knew. But he did feel guilty about apparently having given Slughorn a reason to try to drown his sorrows in expensive liquor. Even if Harry had left  Slughorn shaken, Harry was reasonably sure that Slughorn had not committed suicide. But he could have gone about getting the memory differently. Had he been too rough, pressed too hard?

He would never know.

Saturday was spent mostly catching up with Mr and Mrs Weasley, talking about Slughorn and trading stories. When Ron went to bed early, Harry and Ginny gave her parents a larger explanation about what caused Ron to break down.

Then, on Sunday, an edition of Witch Weekly was delivered to Mrs Weasley, who had had a subscription for years. It featured an article, by a journalist Harry had not thought about in months, that had made Harry furious but also made him the target of a lot of good-natured ribbing from Ginny, and most likely the other Weasleys when they would show up for Christmas.

The Chosen One’s Chosen One(s)?
  Rita Skeeter

Harry Potter, 16, known as the Boy-Who-Lived, Triwizard Champion, the Chosen One, has now added yet another new nickname: Hogwarts Heart-Throb. After suffering the passing of his long-time off-and-on girlfriend, Hermione Granger, last summer, it seems the Boy-Who-Lived has bounced back.

Mr Potter was in attendance at a Christmas party hosted at Hogwarts Friday evening. Eye-witness accounts state that Mr Potter was enjoying himself in the company of two witches: Luna Lovegood, daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, Editor of Entertainment Magazine The Quibbler, and Ginerva Weasley, of the Weasley family that has hosted the Chosen One for many summers.

Miss Lovegood, a small girl with overly large grey-blue eyes that give her a look that some might describe as ‘unique’, if not ‘eccentric’, was the one to accompany Mr Potter to the party. While interviewing Harry last year, this correspondent had the pleasure to meet Miss Lovegood. Miss Lovegood has a personality to match her look. While seen dancing with the blonde, Mr Potter, as may be expected, was mostly seen talking to Miss Weasley during the party.

Miss Weasley, who goes by the name ‘Ginny’, seems to be another new ‘friend’ of Mr Potter. With the fame, the money and the opportunities that come with being the Boy-Who-Lived, many will wonder whether this explains why Mr Potter spends so much time at the Weasley household during the summers.

The question remains, while Wizarding Britain has chosen the Boy-Who-Lived, who will he choose to be his Girl-He-Lives-With?

The article was accompanied by photos of the three of them, which weren’t particularly flattering to either Ginny or Luna. It featured the same photograph of Harry that had appeared in the Quibbler last year.

The reasons for Harry’s anger were fourfold. First of all, the way Skeeter had written about Ginny, misspelling her name wrong in the process, made it sound like the Weasleys were grooming the both of them to become a couple, to profit off of Harry’s fame. Which was both demonstrably false and also hurtful toward the only real family Harry had ever known.

Secondly, the way Rita had describe Luna was less than complimentary. Sure, Luna wasn’t traditionally beautiful by any stretch of the imagination but Harry didn’t think her unique look was something bad. Harry would never judge people on how they looked, he knew how annoying it was to be stared at and gaped at. Everyone had something that made them positively stand out. In Luna’s case, Harry liked her eyes. The silvery blue colour always seemed to hold so much mystery.

Thirdly, and related to Luna, he saw right through Skeeters’ dig at the Quibbler. Calling it an “Entertainment Magazine” was insulting to both Luna and her dad, who took their stories seriously. Even though Harry agreed that most stories were quite out there, at the same time the Quibbler was not at risk of being influenced by the Ministry. After the interview he had done with Luna, he would always have a special fondness for the outlet.

And lastly, the mention of Hermione as his “long-time off-and-on girlfriend” hurt in multiple ways. The least of which was that it made Harry out to be some kind of major playboy, flirting with two girls only months after his supposed girlfriend had passed away, which then also made him out to be some kind of cold-hearted arsehole. He was also worried about its effect on Ron.

While Skeeter’s article made Harry furious, it was another article published that weekend that had actually hurt him. It was published in the Daily Prophet the day before Christmas Eve.

Harry Potter possible suspect in death of Hogwarts Potion’s Teacher?

Hogwarts was rocked late Friday night when famed Potion’s Master Horace Slughorn was found dead in his office, just minutes after the end of his own Christmas Party (see Saturday’s Evening Prophet for more information).

New eyewitness accounts now state that none other than Harry Potter was seen entering the Potion Teacher’s office with him and then leaving alone some ten minutes later. Slughorn was then seen coming back into the party after Potter had left, to announce that the party would soon end. He was said to look distracted, nervous, and pale. A half-hour later he was found dead by Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, who was seen at the crime scene with Potter.

The Auror Department has been careful in saying whether Potter is suspected of anything. A spokesperson was quoted to have said: “Mr Potter is a person of interest due to eyewitness reports stating that he had been in the victim’s vicinity the entire evening, even going into his private offices. We plan to bring in Mr Potter for a conversation at some point after Christmas.”

The last two years rumours about Potter’s mental stability have been rampant. This latest development might put a dent into the trust many citizens have in Potter.

Ginny had been indignant with rage. “Rumours were rampant?” she growled in unbelieving tones. “Only because this, this rag of a newspaper, was the one spreading it!”

It spoke to Mrs Weasley’s ire with the paper that she didn’t even admonish Ginny for shouting in the kitchen. She looked nearly as indignant as her daughter. It warmed Harry that they would defend him so vehemently.

That evening Tonks dropped by the Burrow. Her stated goal was to inform Harry about what was going on, but the way her hair turned brown when, Harry supposed, she saw that Remus wasn’t there did show there had been a different primary goal for her.

“You are not seen as an actual suspect,” she reiterated to Harry after they had been given some privacy in the Weasley’s laundry room, “we have already established that the bottle of mead wasn’t tampered with in at least the past week or so. So either it was poisoned while being bottled or it has been tampered with before you went into the office. Our biggest question right now is how the bottle made it into the castle, as everything and everyone should have been checked.”

Tonks frowned and continued, “They do consider you a key-witness, though, because you were seen leaving with him. So they would have wanted to speak with you anyway,” she sighed and looked at him seriously. “But King and I both agree that they will use the opportunity to press you about what Dumbledore is doing, and about whatever the Minister talked to you about last summer.”

“Great,” Harry answered sarcastically. “So, they are going to interrogate me about things that have nothing to do with Slughorn?”

“No,” Tonks disagreed, “they will also want to know what you and Slughorn discussed. And I suggest you prepare an answer, not answering won’t help.”

“I spoke with Dumbledore last night, he said that you should stick to the story that you convinced Slughorn to show you memories of your mother,” Tonks explained hastily, seeing the dismay on Harry’s face. Then continuing: “And you met Dumbledore when you were making your way back to the Common Room after walking Luna,“ Tonks smirked, and wriggled her eyebrows, ”to Ravenclaw tower.”

Of course, the Headmaster had already come up with a plan, Harry thought. And it was a good plan as well. Harry had no idea whether they could check whether Slughorn had extracted a memory but he had, so that would hopefully explain it if they could. And, they had discussed Harry’s mother, so he wouldn’t even be necessarily lying. That could also explain why Slughorn had looked distracted and nervous if Harry had forced him to relive memories of his favourite student.

“Okay, thanks, Tonks,” Harry said. Then, awkwardly, “er… how have you been?”

“As great as can be expected, I guess,” Tonks said through a false smile. Even her hair flashed a bit lighter for a second. She then smiled mischievously.

“So, what’s this I read about you having two girlfriends?”

Harry groaned.

 –In Her Memory –

Even with everything that was going on, Christmas with the Weasleys at the Burrow was enough for Harry to let his troubles escape his mind for a day of two. Especially when Remus came to spend Christmas with them.

Harry had wasted no time to talk with him about what Harry had heard Snape say to Malfoy. Remus said that Snape was probably just trying to find out what Malfoy was up to. He also wanted to hear nothing about Dumbledore being wrong about Snape.

Christmas Eve was spent mostly updating the Weasley family about Ron, who had gone up to bed as soon as he felt he could. The Weasleys were naturally worried about his lethargy, even if Harry had the idea that they didn’t all understand it.

After dinner they made their way into the living room, having quiet conversations with each other to distract themselves from Celestina Warbeck’s voice, which was coming through the Wireless. When Fleur decided to imitate her, they all suddenly realized that it was time for bed. Harry was bunking with Ron again, Bill with Fred & George, because Remus got a room to himself. Which meant Ginny had to share her room with Fleur, something both seemed decidedly unhappy about.

Harry woke up the next day to a mountain of presents. Some of them were expected, like the books on dark creatures and defensive magic from Remus, and the jumper from Mrs Weasley. This year it featured a Snitch. Others were much less expected. Bill and Ginny had worked together and had come up with a tiny Rune he could carve into the inside of his glasses to keep them from being summoned off his face. Ginny told him later she had gotten the idea after Flitwick had summoned his glasses off. Harry, having no idea how runes worked, was thankful that the accompanying note said that Bill would carve the rune. It was a simple solution to a possibly large issue. He had been contemplating trying out contact lenses but the idea of putting stuff in his eyes did not appeal to him at all. So he was glad for this solution. 

The Twins had given him a scroll with the following message:

Harrykins,

What you have before you is the latest version of the Instant-Letter, which is now in the late stages of rigorous testing. For this, we’d like your help. The only thing you have to do is take this one with you to Hogwarts and use it. We’ll swap this one for the eventual finished product when it’s done.

You know what the password is.

Merry Christmas!

Fred & George

Harry looked at the scroll with renewed interest. It featured two rods, one at the top and one at the bottom, that when turned made the message on the parchment move up and down, without the parchment itself moving.

Duly impressed, Harry tapped his wand to the parchment. “Mischief Managed,” he murmured, and the two rods moved toward each other, closing the Instant-Letter. “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good,” he said, and the Instant-Letter opened again. Harry got a quill out and wrote, about two inches under their message:

Fred, George,

Considered me impressed! Thanks!
Now just think of a better name than “Instant-Letter”, it’s a mouthful!

Merry Christmas
Harry

The other presents included a pair of socks from Dobby, candy from Ron, and a book called Charming Witches from Fleur. A quick look through the contents made him blush.

“Ron!” he called loudly, seeing Ron was still sleeping, “presents!”

His friend shot up in his bed. “What?,” he said groggily, clearly half-asleep. “Presents!” he exclaimed when he saw the small mountain of presents.

Harry smiled. It was good to see Ron so carelessly joyful for a moment. The feeling didn’t stay long though, as something had clearly sparked a memory for Ron. While he did get up to unwrap his presents, he was frowning a bit while doing so.

Nevertheless, he still thanked Harry for the mountain of Chocolate Cards he had given him. He even smiled, probably thinking the gift was a call-back to their conversation last Summer.

Harry got up, pulled on his Weasley jumper and the socks he had gotten from Dobby (and hid Fleur’s gift in his trunk) and made his way downstairs. Before the Christmas activities really started, he wanted to give his gifts to Dobby and Kreacher. Initially, he hadn’t thought to give Kreacher anything, he wasn’t sure whether that was something people did. But giving Dobby something and then not give Kreacher something felt wrong.

For Dobby his idea was easy. He had written Mrs Weasley and requested she make a Weasley jumper for Dobby. He even offered to pay her for it, but she hadn’t responded to that particular inquiry.

For Kreacher, it also wasn’t that difficult. There was only one thing that Harry could give him, that Kreacher actually wanted.

“Kreacher?” he called when he was in the living room.

A pop and there Kreacher was, looking cleaner yet again, but still scowling. “Master called?”, he croaked.

“Hello, Kreacher, Merry Christmas,” Harry said, a bit cautiously, unsure of how Kreacher would respond to well-wishes.

At first, he didn’t respond at all. Then, cautiously and askance, “Merry Christmas, Master?”

“I’ve been thinking about what I should give you as a Christmas Present,” Harry started. Kreacher immediately began muttering to himself. Harry thought he could hear something about good House Elves not getting presents, and Kreacher not wanting anything from him. But Harry just continued.

“There’s only one thing I can give you, though, so I want you to go back to Grimmauld Place and pick something you want to have, as long as you show it to me so I can accept it,” Harry said, talking over Kreacher’s muttering.

Kreacher stilled at once and looked up at Harry with unbelieving eyes.

“Master wants Kreacher to…” he croaked, trailing off, with eyes wide and ears drooping.

“… go to Grimmauld Place and pick out something you want from there to keep, as your Christmas Present,” Harry confirmed.

Kreacher looked so shocked that he forgot to answer before he popped away. Harry was secretly a bit scared that he had somehow broken Kreacher but he went on to call Dobby.

“Harry Potter, sir! Merry Christmas!” Dobby said almost immediately after popping into the living room. He had colour-coordinated his many different accessories: they were all Holly-red and Holly-green. He was also wearing a Christmas hat, making him look like he had walked straight out of Santa’s Workshop.

“Hi, Dobby, Merry Christmas. Thanks for the socks!” he responded, lifting a trouser leg to show he was wearing them.

Dobby blushed and smiled so brightly it almost hurt Harry’s eyes. “Harry Potter is wearing the socks!” he squealed happily.

“I actually have a present for you too, Dobby. I didn’t know how to have it delivered, that’s why I called for you,” Harry explained. He grabbed the gift and gave it to Dobby. “I hope it fits,” he said. Mrs Weasley had had no idea what size the jumper should be so she had guessed.

Dobby’s wide eyes grew even wider, “A Christmas present!” he hastily unwrapped the jumper and his eyes moistened as he saw the jumper. Harry also looked at it with wide eyes. Apparently, Mrs Weasley had a bit of a mischievous streak herself: she had knitted a golden outline of Harry’s hair, glasses and scar unto a crimson jumper.

Dobby immediately pulled the jumper on, which fell halfway to his knees. “It fits!” he beamed at Harry. Harry thought it looked more like a dress than a jumper, but Dobby had always had a unique sense of fashion.

A pop heralded the arrival of Kreacher. In his hands, he held a ring. “Master, is this…?”

“Merry Christmas, Kreacher,” Dobby said happily. Kreacher ignored him.

Harry picked up the ring and examined it. It was quite heavy and seemingly made of silver. It featured the Black family crest. “What is it, Kreacher?”

“It is Cygnus Black the Second’s family ring, Master,” Kreacher said reverently.

“Cygnus?” Harry questioned, “who was he again?”

Kreacher explained in soft, almost loving tones. “Cygnus Black was Kreacher’s first master, the third son of Phineas Nigelius Black, father of Pollux, Cassiopeia, Dorea and the bloodtraitor Marius,” Kreacher didn’t even sneer when he said that last part. Harry supposed it was some sort of muscle memory by now, to call someone a bloodtraitor. Kreacher continued, “After Master Cygnus passed away,” Kreacher croaked sadly, “Kreacher became House Elf for Sirius Black the Second.”

“So, this ring has sentimental value for you? Does it have any magic or anything like that?”

Kreacher shook his head, making his ears flap around.  “Master Cygnus was never the Head of the House,” he explained.

“Alright,” Harry said easily, “in that case, Merry Christmas, Kreacher,” and with that he handed the ring back.

Kreacher looked at it with wide eyes, as if it would disappear if he blinked. “Master is sure…?”

“Yes, Kreacher,” Harry confirmed.

“Kreacher thanks you, Master, thank you,” Kreacher said with bright eyes, before popping away.

Suddenly, something Sirius once told Harry, Ron and Hermione came to him, “if you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals”.  Whatever the reason, Sirius had not lived up to that sentiment when it came to Kreacher. Considering what Kreacher had done, Harry was proud he could rise above the mistakes of his godfather.

“Dobby thinks you made Kreacher very happy, Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby weighed in. Harry smiled at him.

When he walked into the kitchen he was immediately swarmed by the Weasleys thanking him for his gifts. They were all wearing their jumpers, of course.

“Thank you for le vin français, Harry,” Fleur said smiling brightly before hugging him, “It is one of my favourites!”

From some of the letters that Fleur had sent him, Harry suspected she was feeling a bit homesick, so he had had the idea of giving her a bottle of French wine. Furthermore, from the way Fleur kept him up to date about Gabriel in her letters, Harry knew she missed her sister a lot. And from the little interaction, Fleur and Ginny had had thus far, Harry had begun to suspect that some of the tension between the two found its origin there. 

After Harry had explained what an amusement park was precisely (the Muggle Studies curriculum hadn’t touch upon that), Ginny was very excited by his gift of a day at a Muggle amusement park. Harry’s description of rollercoasters as a mix between the rides at Gringotts and a mechanical broom ride only made her more eager. Mr Weasley immediately invited himself as well. Supposedly, to ensure that Ginny didn’t perform any faux-pas in communicating with Muggles, but most likely just because he was too interested to let that go.

Mrs Weasley hugged him tight to thank him for his gift. He had made them a voucher for a night on the town, paid for by him. Her eyes were bright as she complimented Harry on his thoughtfulness, because, yes, they had been quite stressed as of late.

Comparable, Harry realized, his gift to Ron seemed quite weak, if you didn’t know that he had paid extra to get the Chocolate Cards he wanted. Luckily, Ron didn’t seem to have noticed though.

The rest of Christmas day was spent with good food, good friends and with making good memories.

-- In Her Memory --

The day after Christmas, Tonks came to the Burrow again. Officially she was there as an Auror to pick up Harry for his interrogation, she had volunteered to do so. Harry wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea for her to openly acknowledge they knew each other. But he was glad either way that it was a friendly face picking him up.

Like the summer before fifth year Harry was feeling quite nervous. Sure, he wasn’t at risk of being expelled this time, at least he didn’t think so, but he was considered a key witness in a murder case, and he was likely to be confronted by Scrimgeour again. On top of that, the last time he’d been at the Ministery… Suffice it to say, there were many places he’d rather be.

Wearing refitted dress robes from Mr Weasley, Harry walked with Tonks across the Atrium. Harry didn’t think dress robes were necessary but Mrs Weasley had insisted. The statue was repaired, and all the windows that had been broken were repaired. There were no visual reminders of what had happened there but Harry saw them everywhere anyway. 

At least, they didn’t need to head into the Department of Mysteries.

They took the lift down to the second level, where a voice announced they had reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They made their way past the Hit Wizard office, the Improper Use of Magic Office and the Wizengamot Administration Services.

When they walked into the Auror Office, Tonks was greeted by her colleagues. Harry recognized some of them from their patrols at Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt didn’t greet them, and Harry knew that even now the members of the Order tried to hide their allegiances.

A slightly grey-haired man with ditto facial hair made his way over to them. He was an older fellow but he was still powerfully built and his eyes had a sharpness to them.

“Mr Potter,” the man greeted him, “I am Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Office. Glad to see you could make it.”

It wasn’t like I had a choice, Harry thought, but he politely greeted Robards back.

“Shall we?” Robards said, showing him the way. Tonks squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. She had already told Harry that she wouldn’t be able to come with him. Harry wondered whether Dumbledore would show up unexpectedly again. Probably not, considering he had already instructed Harry what to say through Tonks.

As they made their way to an interrogation room, Robards said: “Now, Mr Potter. Headmaster Dumbledore has already vowed for you, he and the Minister spoke directly. Therefore, as you should have been informed of, you are here as a witness. Here we are,” he said, opening up the door.

Harry had his own interpretation of the situation. He was quite certain that if he only had to answer a few questions, they could have just sent an Auror to the Burrow or something. In any case, the interrogation room was unnecessary. It was probably just part of an intimidation tactic or something. And to get him somewhere he couldn’t escape from, so he could be pressed by Scrimgeour again.

“Does the Head of the Auror Office usually deal with these kinds of eyewitness interviews?” Harry asked as he sat down in an uncomfortable steel chair. The shackles that hung from it rattled threateningly as he sat down.

Robards smiled indulgently at him. “No, Mr Potter. Normally not, but for cases that need a, delicate hand so to say, the Head is free to do so. Especially when the case involves someone famous,” he said. Harry imagined Robards would have winked if had been a more jovial sort of person.

Harry’s eyelid twitched anyway. The way Robards was talking to him and the way he said that the famous were treated differently robbed him the wrong way completely. But at this point, Harry wasn’t even surprised anymore. Years of experience with the Ministry would make everyone that cynical. At least, he hoped so.

Robards sat down and opened up a binder, taking several different pages out of it. He took his time to peruse them, then looked at Harry.

“So, Mr Potter, you are here to answer some questions we have concerning the passing of Horace Slughorn, Potions Professor at Hogwarts. Throughout this conversation I’ll be using a Dictaquill to record your answers,” he began. Harry nodded.

“Before we start, would you like some tea? Or coffee?” Robards began.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Harry said politely.

“Great, okay, let’s start then. What can you tell me about the evening of December the 20^th?”

Harry started explaining, beginning from when he entered the party with Luna. He skipped over the part where he had left the party to follow Malfoy. When asked, he explained, like Dumbledore had suggested, that he had gone with Slughorn to collect memories of Lily Evans.

“Why did Slughorn not return to the party with you?” Robards asked.

“He was a bit distraught. My mum was one of his favourite students, and on top of that it reminded him of the current situation, I think. I assumed he wanted a moment for himself,” Harry said, shrugging.

“And then what happened?” Robards prompted.

So, Harry continued with how he had gone back to the party, danced with Luna for a bit, then walked her back to the Ravenclaw common room.

“And then?” Robards asked, with a raised eyebrow and something akin to a smirk. Dirty old codger, Harry thought. 

“Then I went back to the Common Room and met Professor Dumbledore on the way there,” Harry finished.

“I see,” Robards said neutrally. He looked over the Dictaquill notes and then the notes he had brought with him. Harry was beginning to regret not accepting tea or a glass of water.

“Eyewitnesses state that they saw you talking a lot with Mr Slughorn during the party.”

“I did speak with him, sir,” Harry confirmed.

“Just speak with him? Do you disagree with the sentiment that you spoke to him “a lot”?” Robards pressed.

“Professor Slughorn was keen to introduce me to some of the non-Hogwarts guests there, sir, so I did probably spend more time in his presence than most of the other guests,” Harry agreed.

“Yes, that does sound like Slughorn,” Robards muttered to himself. Harry wasn’t surprised he had known him. Slughorn had taught at Hogwarts for a long time after all. The Auror shifted some papers and looked here and there.

“Statements have been made that allude to the fact that you left the party for a while,” Robards continued.

“Besides what we talked about, you mean?” Harry asked

“Did you leave the party prior to leaving with Slughorn?” Robards clarified.

Harry hesitated. He could tell the Head Auror about his suspicions of Malfoy, but he was afraid of how that would reflect on him. Would they think that he was just trying to shift the blame? He also had the feeling that Dumbledore would say that he shouldn’t, because of whatever Snape was up to.

“I did step out for a moment, yes,” Harry said carefully.

“Why did you do that?”

“I needed to cool down, sir, I was afraid of messing up my ‘date’”, Harry said, miming quote marks with his hands. Harry saw Robards hiding a smirk, so he quickly added, “Because, Luna was explaining how you guys were conspiring to overthrow the ministry through gum disease. She called it the Rotfang Conspiracy. While I suspect the Ministry of many things, this theory seemed far-fetched, so I had to step out before I accidentally hurt her feelings,” Harry explained.  Sorry, Luna he thought.

Robards blinked quickly, an unbelieving look on his face. This time rather than feeling sympathy, Harry relished being able to throw someone off guard with one of Luna’s theories.

“That’s certainly … interesting,” Robards said distractedly. “She’s from the Quibbler, right?”

Harry nodded.

Robards didn’t say anything, just kept looking at him. As the silence stretched Harry began feeling the need to continue saying something. But stubborn could have been his middle name so he waited it out until Robards spoke up again.

“And then you went back to the party to dance with your girlfriends,” he said while jotting down some notes.

“They’re not my girlfriends,” Harry grumbled, but Robards wasn’t listening to him.

“Mr Potter, you strike me as some who is clever and attentive,” he continued. “Someone who likes to know what is going on. What do you think happened to Professor Slughorn?”

Harry sighed, “I think Professor Slughorn was a bit tipsy and felt sad after reminiscing about my mum. After ending the party, I think he went back to his office to pour himself a nightcap and then…” Harry trailed off.

“And then he drank poisoned mead,” Robards finished. “Why would anyone poison Mr Slughorn’s mead, any idea?”

Harry hid his surprise. Where they actually asking him for ideas? “Well,” Harry said slowly, “as far as I understand he had been on the run for the last year or so. The fact that Hogwarts was a safe place was one of the reasons that convinced him to start teaching again.”

“Do you know why he had been on the run?” Robards asked curiously. Harry suspected they already knew but just wanted to know how in the know Harry was. So he decided to answer with something that anyone could have come up with.

“Unless he greatly exaggerated his influence, Slughorn seemed to be a political or societal powerful man, and a great Potions master on top of that. He would have been a great get for anyone, I guess,” he shrugged. “And he was Head of Slytherin for a long time so I assume he knows a lot about many Death Eaters,” he added.

“Is that why Dumbledore rehired him?”

Harry pursed his lips infinitesimally. “I wouldn’t know, sir,”

“Of course, you don’t,” Robards scoffed. 

Harry answered a couple more questions until they heard a knock on the door.

Just like Tonks and Kingsley had suspected, Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, entered the room.

“Gawain, Mr Potter,” he greeted them. Turning to Robards, he asked: “Gawain, would you mind giving me the room for a minute?”

“Certainly, minister,” and he got up, collected his papers and walked out, “Mr Potter and I were just finishing up here, anyway.”

As the door closed, Scrimgeour sat down in the vacated chair.

“So, Mr Potter, we meet again,” he said roughly.

“Indeed, we do,” Harry said simply.

“How has your Christmas been?” the Minister asked politely.

“Fine, considering the circumstances,” Harry answered honestly.

“Yes, yes, terrible news about Mr Slughorn,” Scrimgeour said.

Harry didn’t say anything and Scrimgeour’s patience was clearly short.

“Now, Mr Potter, last time we met, we had a disagreement. I wondered whether you have given that discussion any more thought?”

“I have,” Harry said.

“And?” the Minister pressed.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Harry said firmly.

“I see,” Scrimgeour said, looking at Harry.

“As a matter of fact,” Harry continued slowly, “remember all the misgivings I had when we last spoke? You can add locking up Stan Shunpike to that list.”

Scrimgeour’s expression hardened.

Harry continued, “Just like you want to use me as a mascot, you’re using Stan as a scapegoat,” he stated flatly.

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand,” Scrimgeour said frostily.

“I think I understand perfectly well,” Harry responded.

An icy silence spread between them.

“What is Dumbledore up to?” Scrimgeour then asked brusquely. “Where does he go, when he is absent from Hogwarts?”

“I have no idea,” said Harry.

“And you wouldn’t tell me if you knew,” said Scrimgeour, “would you?”

“That’s right,” Harry confirmed with a smirk, “I can confirm that, one mustn’t lie to the Minister, of course,” he added, unconsciously clenching his fist.

The Minister looked at him from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “You do realize that I have the means to make your life very difficult, right?” He gestured to the interrogation room they were currently in.

Harry clenched his fist, “I do, and just the fact that you are saying it makes it even more unlikely that I’ll ever play along with you,” he snapped. Seriously, what was wrong with these Ministry people?

They looked at each other, long and hard. Finally, Scrimgeour said “Well, thank you for clearing up any questions the Aurors may have had, I’m sure you won’t be needed again. Just remember any investigation can always be reopened.” His voice held a small threat hidden in its neutral tones.

Well, that message was quite clear to Harry. Stay out of our way or else.

Harry made his way out of the room and breathed in slowly. Bloody hell. Scrimgeour might not be a coward, but he was still an untrustworthy bureaucrat if you asked Harry.

Tonks, who, going by the small pieces of parchment flittered around her cubicle, had clearly been stressing, looked up with relief when Harry approached.

“Everything okay?” she asked immediately.

“Sure,” Harry said shrugging. Tonks nodded and stood up, together they walked towards the elevators.              

As Harry and Tonks made their way through the Atrium toward the exits, someone walked into Harry.

“Ouch,” the woman said, “I’m sorry, Mr Potter,” Her curly blonde hair hid her face as she apologized profusely to Harry. Tonks had her wand in hand and was holding it actively, with narrowed eyes.

“It’s okay,” Harry said hastily and the woman fled. Harry watched her go, she seemed familiar somehow. But where did he know her from?

Then Tonks grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to the side, pushing him into a nook in the wall. She looked grim. “Quick, Harry, carefully check your pockets,” she demanded in whispers, looking around the space behind them.

“What?” Harry said flabbergasted

“Check your pockets by touching them from the outside,” Tonks said, “that woman did not walk into you by accident.”

Harry blanched, swallowed, and carefully patted the pockets on his robed. There! As he patted the pocket on his right side, something crinkled.

“I think there’s a note in there,” he whispered to Tonks, who nodded and point her wand at the pocket.

“Can’t be too careful,” she murmured and began whispering spells until the note slowly drifted out of his pocket, drifting higher until Harry could read it. It held a simple but horrifying message.

Hermione’s parents are to be obliviated in January.

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, the message that Hermione’s parents were going to be obliviated set both Harry and Ginny off. Even though Ron agreed with Harry and Ginny, he just saw it as yet another fucked up thing that happened.

However, they were forcefully forbidden by Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Remus, from acting on it. The Order would take care of it, they’d said, as far as they could. The problem was that the Grangers were going to be victims of a law that had been on the books for centuries. And the fact that it was indeed a policy, was wat made Harry even more furious. Sure, he could understand it, if he were to accept the Ministry of Magic’s framework for such things.

Problem was, he vehemently opposed this framework.

Mr Weasley explained that due to the Statute of Secrecy, the Ministry’s policy in cases like Hermione’s was to obliviate the parents. This was because they did not want Muggles without a living connection to the Magical World to remain aware of the existence of magic. While Mr Weasley did not say it directly, he did give Harry the impression that the Obliviators usually didn’t care that much about how they left the obliviated muggles.

Harry could see several problems with that policy. How many people did they have to “treat” to remove all memories of a person? How many people would have their memory tempered with, including all the risks that came with it? Or, did they only “treat” the parents, who would then most likely encounter problems with people that did remember they used to have a child? Both cases were very problematic, albeit for different reasons, and once again infuriated Harry.

The rest of Christmas Harry spent hanging out with Ginny and Ron. But because Ron still spend much time in bed, staring out the window, or stuffing his face with various baked goods from Mr Weasley, Harry spend much time talking with Ginny about many different things.

One of those subjects had been Luna. A couple of days after Christmas an Owl had come to the burrow carrying a Howler. But as opposed to Harry’s previous experiences with Howler this one didn’t come bearing bad news. At least, not yet.

After Ginny, to whom it had been addressed, opened it, Luna’s characteristic tones filled the kitchen at the Burrow. Ginny explained that Luna rarely simply wrote back, but often send Howlers instead. Apparently, Luna didn’t like the fact that emotions were so hard to read on paper. Howlers allowed the use of things like sarcasm, without it resulting in misunderstandings. Harry didn’t think he had ever heard Luna be sarcastic.

Luna wished everyone a Merry Christmas and enthusiastically told Ginny about what she and her Dad were up to (they were going on a short expedition, but Luna didn’t say to where). Rather alarmingly, Harry thought, Luna also said, in a throwaway line, that she had told her father about what Dumbledore had told the HA about Voldemort’s past. Mr Lovegood was now planning to write an article about it in the Quibbler.

This was dangerous, Harry thought. It was one thing to tell members of the HA, who were safe behind castle walls, about who Tom Riddle was, but publishing it in a nationally distributed newspaper seemed too risky to Harry.

When he voiced his fear that something might happen to Mr Lovegood, who he learned was called Xenophilius, the Weasleys all agreed that it was dangerous. But, as Mr Weasley and Ginny, both said: Xenophilius Lovegood was not someone you could easily convince to stop researching something. But Mr Weasley said that he would drop in to warn him against publishing the article.

A day or two later Ginny approached Harry as he was working on his homework.

“Harry? Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, what’s up?” Harry said distractedly, trying to find whether the correct wand movement for a Bubble-Head Charm pointed up or down.

“It’s the last day of the year,” Ginny said sweetly, “don’t you think it’s time to fulfil your promise? Go into 1997 with a clean conscious?”

That made Harry look up. He looked at her questioningly. “What are you talking about?”

Ginny put her arms on her hips. “Last summer you made a promise to me, and you still haven’t delivered, Potter,”

“I did?” Harry said stupidly.

“Yes!”

Harry tried to think back to last summer. What could she be talking about? Then Ginny’s voice echoed through his mind: “I tell you something about the aftermath of the Chamber, and you tell me something about living with the Dursleys.”

Oh. Shit.

“I see you finally remember,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, “I don’t want to press the issue, even though I think it would do you good to talk about it, but I also want you to keep your promise. A promise is a promise, after all.”

That was probably the most effective thing she could’ve said to him, Harry thought. A direct challenge to his sense of honour. Of course, he would always try to deliver on his promises, but there was a reason he had hoped Ginny had just forgotten about it.

Ginny bit her lip and she grinned at him. “If you want to we could try to sneak some firewhiskey? I’ve heard it makes it easier to talk about uncomfortable subjects.”

Harry laughed, “My experiences with firewhiskey aren’t that great, I wouldn’t want to ruin it any further,” He sighed and looked at Ginny, who he knew could be as stubborn as he was.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he said. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit annoyed at the moment.

“I’m willing to let you come to me, if you’d prefer that,” Ginny said, patting his shoulder. Then she pointed her finger at him. “But you better make sure you do come to me at some point in the next months, otherwise I’ll perform a sticking charm on your arse and force you talk to me!” she threatened good-naturedly.

Harry laughed with her and went back to his homework. But he couldn’t concentrate anymore.

-- In Her Memory --

Harry knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Here he stood, on the landing before Ginny’s door on New Year’s Eve. He could hear the Twins being raucous down the stairs. Harry had needed the loo and when he came back he saw the door to Ginny’s room.

So there he stood again, a couple of months after he had entered there to talk to Ginny about the Chamber. She wasn’t there at this moment, of course, she was downstairs celebrating the end of a terrible year and hoping the next one would be better.

The Twins had made a point of sneaking firewhiskey to him, Ron and even Ginny again. Harry wasn’t sure why the Magical World didn’t seem to have its own beer. People seemed to mostly drink either butterbeer, which had an alcoholic content too low to get really buzzed, except if you were Luna or a Elf, or stronger stuff like the firewhiskey. In any case, after a couple of glasses of butterbeer mixed with firewhiskey, Harry did feel a bit buzzed.

And like the last couple of times, he wasn’t sure he enjoyed the fact it made him feel so merry. He could certainly understand how people could get addicted to it.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Ginny’s voice said, drifting up from the staircase where she was making her way to the landing where Harry was still standing.

“Oh, hi, Ginny,” he said. “Wanna find out whether firewhiskey actually makes uncomfortable conversations easier?”

Ginny giggled “Sure! But I need the loo first.” She opened the door to her room while walking past it and Harry entered.

He felt it would be wrong to sit down while Ginny wasn’t there so he just kind of stood there waiting for her.

He could hear the laugh in her voice when she said from behind him: “You can sit down, you know.”

He turned around. “Oh, I know, I just…” he waved his hand haphazardly around the room.

“Of course,” Ginny said sarcastically. “I’m guessing you hoped I had forgotten about our little deal?” she said sitting down on her bed. Harry sat down in the same chair he had sat in the summer before.

“I guess,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling. When was this supposed to be getting easier?

“Is there anything specific you want to say?” Ginny asked softly.

There was. Harry had thought about it, and he had concluded that what Ginny assumed had gone on at Privet Drive was mostly likely wrong, so he wanted to set the record straight.

“I think it is important to note upfront that they never hit me or anything like that,” he blurted out. Maybe the firewhiskey was helping.

“Oh, well, that’s good,” Ginny said in surprise. Harry wasn’t sure whether she was surprised at the content of what he had said or the way he had said it.

“So, you know, it wasn’t all that bad,” he continued but stopped when Ginny held up a hand.

“Tom never hit me, either,” she said dryly, “I would never say that meant it wasn’t all that bad,”

“That’s completely different, though,” Harry said confused.

“Maybe,” Ginny shrugged. “But the point is, abuse doesn’t always have to be physical.”

Abuse? Ginny thought he had been abused?

“What do you mean, abuse?” he said, “It’s more like the opposite to that, to be honest.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, “Most people would say locking a child up in his room with bars on the window and just a catflap is a form of abuse. You don’t think so?”

Harry shrugged, “Well, it wasn’t fun, but at least they left me alone.”

Ginny sighed, rubbed her hands over her face and looked up.

“Did they do that a lot? Leave you alone?”

“They liked to pretend I wasn’t there, so yeah,” Harry answered. “Sometimes I got to watch TV while they were gone, other times I was locked in my cup-ROOM,” Harry hastily corrected himself but he knew he had been too obvious with it.

Ginny’s voice was icy. Harry had never heard her speak like that and he imagined the expression she had now was the one you saw a second before you were attacked by your own flying boogers.

“What did you say?”

Harry sighed. He didn’t want to explain but luckily he had an idea.

“Wait, I’ll just show you, give me a moment.”

He stood up and made his way to Ron’s bedroom where his trunk was. He opened it and shifted the contents from here to there, making his way through 5 and a half years’ worth of parchments and knickknacks, until he found it.

He had found it when he came back from his first time in Diagon Alley with Hagrid. It wasn’t that surprising that his Uncle had missed one, considering the obscene amount of letters that had made their way into the house. Ironically, this one had somehow made its way into the cupboard on the stairs. This one said he resided in the “smallest bedroom” but it would have had to do.

He made his way back to Ginny, who had waited impatiently, and handed her the letter. She looked at it non-plussed.

“The first one I received said, Mr H Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs,” he said, his simple delivery belying the content of the statement.

Ginny just blinked at him for a moment. Then she kicked into gear.

“Okay, first of all,” she said, her tone still relatively normal, “does that mean what I think it means?”

“Probably,” Harry answered with a smirk. He wasn’t sure why he was smirking, but that seemed the better route than getting all sad on Ginny.

“You slept in a cupboard. Under the stairs.” The way Ginny said it made it sound more like a statement than a question. Harry assumed that was because she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He couldn’t blame her, he was quite aware of how fucked up his life was. He was just used to it by this point. And this just went to show him that it was better to spare others the details of his fucked up life.

Apparently, while Harry had been thinking, Ginny had slowly become more irate.

“AND THEY KNEW?!” she yelled. Harry startled at the sudden increase in noise, while at the same time becoming aware of a sudden lull in sound from the Burrow living room. When Ginny looked like she was going to yell again, he hastily stood up and put his hand over her mouth.

“Shh! It’s bad enough that you know, I should’ve never told you, please don’t let the others know,” he begged of her.

When she nodded, he released her and sat down again.

“I’ll come back to that later,” she whispered outrageously, “but you really mean to tell me that Dumbledore knew they kept you in a fucking cupboard and he still insisted you return during the summers?”

Harry shrugged again. “I guess,” he said nonchalantly. It wasn’t like he had never realized that before. “It’s because of the blood protection,” he explained.

“Bollocks,” Ginny answered firmly.

“Bollocks?” Harry said stupidly.

“Yes. You have your own house know, right? Two even?” Ginny continued.

“Er, yeah?” Harry said, not understanding what she meant.

“You mean to tell me you’d be safer with the Muggles next summer when you could spend it a house that at this point only two people and two House Elves know to find?” she asked, her voice showing the fact that she was convinced she knew the right answer to that.

“Well, that wasn’t the case before last summer,” Harry said, feeling the need to defend Dumbledore.

“Maybe, but the point still stand doesn’t it? In any way, I don’t think there is a reason to return to the Dursleys next summer,” Ginny said.

Harry thought about it. Two months on his own in Potter House? Free to visit the Weasley’s whenever he wanted? That… sounded great!

“You know, I’ll propose that to Dumbledore, let’s see what he says about it,” he said with a smile.

“You could just do it, you know. Dumbledore doesn’t control your life, ,” Ginny said, raising an eyebrow.

“Ginny!” Harry said a bit taken aback. “I know he doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t give good advice,” he explained.

“I guess,” Ginny said, shrugging. “but back to the Dursleys,” she said, and Harry sighed.

“What do you want to know?” he said, almost rolling his eyes.

“Well, I can guess a couple of things,” Ginny said slowly. “Like, I know you don’t really like being touched unexpectedly or without reason, so I imagine you never had much friendly physical contact.”

Harry snorted derisively. Ginny didn’t continue talking so they just sat in silence for a moment.

Harry wasn’t sure why, but like Robards had tried, this silence also made him want to talk. First, he started retying his shoelaces. And then he did talk.

“They mostly just made me do chores and then it was back into the cupboard, you know. And, of course, I never did the chores well enough. I sometimes think they would’ve been angrier if I did do everything exactly like they wanted, I would have deprived them of their favourite pastime. Well, not for Dudley, of course, he could always amuse himself with a good, old-fashioned game of Harry Hunting.” He snorted, lifting his other leg to start retying those laces as well.

“Nobody ever wanted to spend time with me at elementary school. Dudley made sure of that. And then I didn’t receive any letters my second year because Dobby was keeping them from arriving. Every bad thing I had thought about myself was just, I don’t know, proved? And then, there your brothers were, breaking me out of not only a physical prison, but also one I was building in my head as well,” he said, coming to that conclusion as he was telling Ginny all this.

“You were raised to think nobody wanted you, and when that idea was reinforced after making friends, that must have been very hard to deal with,” Ginny said softly. “But, it’s like I said last summer, our brains are constantly feeding us information about ourselves, and it’s always biased. Only for some people, the bias is negative for whatever reason.”

“Should I also start calling my brain Snape?” Harry laughed darkly.

Ginny grimaced. “I’d choose another name if I were you, you didn’t seem to like having him in your head last year.”

That shut him up quickly.

“But yeah, I do think that would be good exercise for you,” Ginny continued. “but it is difficult, and I don’t feel comfortable trying to teach you. I’m not a mind healer,”

“You aren’t? So, that’s why I’m not lying on a couch right now,” Harry muttered.

“What does a couch have to do with it?”

“Never mind,” Harry said, waving it away.

Ginny sat up and looked at him earnestly. “You do know you are wanted, right?”

Harry looked away, he didn’t dare to think she was right. He shrugged.

“No, Potter!” she said, hitting him on the shoulder. “Don’t just shrug that away! I know you may not have noticed but those ten minutes you spent dancing with Luna? Even platonic, I haven’t seen her that happy in a long time, not even with Lily! The people that you let in, do actually like you, you know!”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, yeah, at least I’m good for entertainment purposes.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Oh, shut it, now you’re just being melodramatic. You did enjoy the evening, right? Even with what happened?”

“It was fun to just let loose for a moment, I guess. I hadn’t danced like that before, but it’s kind of hard not to when Luna’s there to get you out of your shell.” Harry confessed.

“Great, then we’ll have to do that again!” Ginny said enthusiastically.

Harry groaned. Ginny grinned at him, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Harry smiled half-heartedly at her and retracted his hand from hers.

“There was actually something I wanted to ask you,” Harry said, “Now we’re talking anyway?”

“Sure?” she said.

“Why did you get so mad at Ron when he complained about you and Dean snogging? So mad you told him about Hermione snogging Krum, when you knew it would hurt him,” he hastily added when Ginny looked like she wanted give him the same talking to she had given Ron.

“The git should mind his own business,” she shrugged.

“It was a bit much at times,” Harry said carefully.

Ginny smirked at him. “You jealous, Potter?”

“I have always thought Dean looked nice,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Well, then you were right, weren’t you,” Ginny beamed.

They both chuckled. Then Harry asked: “Does it have to do with what you said to your mum yesterday?”

Yesterday, after dinner, Mrs Weasley had, in a throw-away line set Ginny to go do the dishes. Ginny’s lips had thinned and her eyebrow had risen. “Mum?” she’d asked coolly. Apparently, Mrs Weasley knew exactly what the problem was, because she apologized and then asked whether she’d do the dishes. Ginny had smiled at her mother, had said “sure!” and then went to indeed do the dishes.

“A bit,” Ginny said, “I really don’t like people demanding or telling me what to do,” she explained. “Especially when, when it, you know…” she said softly.

Harry cottoned. The Diary. Of course, it was the diary. She didn’t like people “controlling” her, no matter how non-abusive it was meant. Clearly, she had come a long way, to be able to remind her mother with just a raise of an eyebrow. But then again, maybe she hadn’t if she was still so annoyed? Harry wasn’t sure which of the two was true.

“It’s not like I don’t enjoy these little bedroom conversations of ours,” Ginny said, snapping him out of his reverie, “but we’d better head downstairs, it’s almost midnight!”

They made their way out of her room but Ginny stopped before descending the stairs. She turned and looked at him earnestly. “I know there’s more to your life with the Dursley than you’ve said tonight, but thank you for at least telling me something. I hope it’ll help you too, in the long run.”

Harry nodded. Ginny smiled at him and together they made their way downstairs, just in time to save Ron from the Twins.

-- In Her Memory –

 The rest of the holiday went by in a rush of homework, chess, and multiple other talks with Ginny. Remus, Tonks, Bill and Fleur and the Twins all came by from time to time, Harry taking the time to talk with all of them.

They returned back to Hogwarts by Floo, entering through Professor McGonagall’s office, just in time to join the other students for a Hogwarts Dinner. As Harry, Ron, and Ginny made their way into the Great Hall, Harry’s eye searched the Head Table, curious to see whether Dumbledore had managed to find a new potion’s teacher.

He stopped so abruptly that Ron walked into him.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” he cursed, while Ginny laughed at them.

“Who is that,” Harry said gruffly pointing at the new face at the Head Table. Ron and Ginny looked as well, Ron sucking in a breath. “Bloody hell, she looks like…” he said, Ginny nodding her agreement.

“Hey, Harry, Ron, Ginny!” a voice said from within the Great hall. Harry looked over to Neville, who waved at them and beckoned them closer.

He smiled tightly at Harry as the three sat down. “I know what you’re thinking, she looks a lot like Bellatrix Lestrange, right?”

“She does,” Ginny said with a frown. Harry looked at Neville in concern.

“It’s okay, though, Dumbledore actually visited my Grandmother and me over the holidays to explain, even though I’m not taking potions. Apparently, she’s Bellatrix’s sister, Andromeda,” he explained.

Ginny made a noise of comprehension. “Oh! That’s Tonks’ mum!” she said with a big smile.

“That’s Tonks’ mum?” Ron said in disbelief, as he turned around to look at the head table again, “They don’t look alike at all!” he exclaimed.

Ginny cuffed him on the head, “Of course not, you dolt, Tonks is a metamorphmagus! Who knows what she actually looks like,”

“Oh, right,” Ron said in embarrassment, as Harry laughed at him.

“She’s Tonks’ mother?” Neville said in thought. The two of them had met a couple of times when she visited their defence self-practice sessions. “So she’s married to a Muggleborn? Tonks is a half-blood, right?”

“She ran away from home to marry him, actually,” Harry explained, remembering what Sirius had told him about his favourite cousin. “She and Sirius liked to dub themselves the ‘white sheep of the black family’”, he said to Neville.

Neville made a thoughtful noise and then shrugged. “Still, I’m glad I won’t have to take potions with her,” he said, turning back to his potatoes.

When most people had finished eating, Dumbledore stood up and silence rolled over the students.

“Welcome! Welcome back to Hogwarts!” he said with his trademark tones. “Now as you have by now all undoubtedly heard, tragedy struck us yet again, the night before the Christmas holidays started. Even with all the safety precautions we have taken, one of our professors fell victim to what the Aurors are ruling an assassination.”

At these words, murmurs started up again. Harry could hear people wondering how the assassin had smuggled the potion into the castle.

“The Auror investigation has not yet concluded,” Dumbledore continued, the murmurs quieting, “but we have managed to conclude that Horace, rest his soul, most likely carried the poisoned mead into the castle himself.”

He remained silent for a moment, peering over the students. “I would like us to have a minute of silence for Mr Horace Slughorn,”

As the minute passed by, Harry looked down at his folded hands in his lap. He thought of Hermione, of Sirius, of his parents. All those he knew and loved, uncertainty shrouding their futures. As always when he thought like this, he felt his anger stir, like a sleeping volcano waiting to erupt.

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, and Harry looked up again. The Headmaster wiped a tear from his eyes and he visible had to ground himself.

“For the rest of the year, the potion’s position will be filled in by Andromeda Tonks, who has graciously accepted the role for the remainder of the year only,” he said and people applauded as she stood up.

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table. No one clapped there, most seemed disinterested. Some of the students Harry knew had relations with the Death Eaters scowled. He looked for Malfoy’s reaction but he didn’t seem to be there.

Andromeda waved regally and sat down again.

As the students began making their way to their various dorms, Harry told Ginny, Ron, and Neville that he’d see them in the common room. He wanted to talk with Dumbledore.

As he walked up to the head table, he caught Dumbledore’s eye.

“Ah, Harry, I was hoping you’d have the time to meet tonight,” he said, before gesturing to Andromeda.  “Harry, this is Andromeda Tonks, who, as you have no doubt understood, is Nymphadora’s mother.”

“Hello, Professor Tonks,” Harry greeted, shaking her hand.

Professor Tonks, Harry smiled inwardly. That sounded strange. The new potion professor clearly thought so too, because he saw a twinkle in her eye that reminded him of Tonks, even if her stern and regal expression didn’t change. From up close, Harry began to see more differences between the three Black sisters he knew. Of course, Bellatrix Lestrange bore the visible scars of being in Azkaban for years. But he was quite sure that neither Bellatrix nor Narcissa would age with laugh lines around their mouths and eyes. It made Professor Tonks look a lot kinder than her sisters ever would. And her eyes…

They were Sirius’ eyes. Or rather the other way around. The kindness and love of life that were apparent on her face, were also embedded in her eyes. But there were differences as well. Professor Tonks clearly held on to some of the manners instilled into her by her family. Sirius hadn’t had much manners at all. 

“Hello, Mr Potter,” she answered politely. “I was wondering whether you would be able to visit my office sometime next week? I was hoping to speak to you,”

“Uh, sure,” Harry said, “I can come around on Wednesday evening. Quidditch has started up yet,”

“That would be fine, Mr Potter, thank you,”

-- In Her Memory --

Only a couple of minutes later Harry sat in the now quite familiar office. Before he could say anything however, Dumbledore had told him some good news.

“Harry, I want you to know that we managed to prevent Mr and Mrs Granger from being obliviated. They were understandably upset when Minerva informed them off the danger they were in. I believe Mr Granger said something along the lines of them wishing we had never told Hermione about her magic.”

Harry sighed, “I can only imagine,”

“Indeed,” the Headmaster said sadly. “We did, however, manage to convince them to flee the country. They are currently preparing to move to Australia.”

“Will they be safe there?” Harry asked.

“I hardly believe Voldemort nor his forces will bother chasing them there,” Dumbledore said.

“What about the Ministry?” Harry said with a scowl.

“I hardly think they can allocate the sources needed to track them to Australia,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry nodded. “Do you think they’ll want to know when it’s all over?”

The Headmaster smiled, “I’m sure they do, my boy.”

They were silent then, just taking in how messed up the situation was.

Then Harry said, “I think it was Malfoy that gave Professor Slughorn the poisoned mead, professor.”

Dumbledore didn’t say anything for a minute. Harry wondered what he would say.

Then, the Headmaster sighed heavily. “I’m afraid, you are correct, Harry.”

“I – what?” Harry said flabbergasted

“Yes, I think Malfoy did kill Professor Slughorn,” Dumbledore said carefully.

“You do? Why?”

“The greatest reason is that Mr Malfoy has decided not to attend Hogwarts this term,” Dumbledore said sadly. “Which hopefully was his decision.”

“So, that why I didn’t see him tonight…” Harry said, wondering out loud.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded.

“So, he’s with Voldemort?” Harry asked

“I assume he’s with his mother, Mrs Narcissa Malfoy,” Dumbledore said slowly.

They were silent for a long moment, Harry thinking about where Malfoy might be right now. After shrugging away every small amount of concern for him, he asked Dumbledore: “How did you get Mrs Tonks to take the position, Professor?”

“She was actually the first person I thought to ask,” Dumbledore answered thoughtfully. “She’s already a target for Voldemort’s forces because of who she is and who she married. And, as she’ll undoubtedly explain in your first lesson with her, she is a trained healer with years of experience brewing potions for the Apothecary.”

“I imagine it is hard to find someone willing to take a position at Hogwarts in this day and age,” Harry mused.

“Alas, yes. Like I announced at dinner, I could only convince Professor Tonks-,” the Headmaster's moustache twitched. Harry imagined he also thought that sounded funny, “- to teach the remainder of this semester. There’ll be a new potion professor yet again next year.”

“Was it hard to convince her?” Harry asked, “I don’t really know her yet.”

Dumbledore made a thoughtful noise. “It was easier than I had expected. I imagine it was a boon to my asking that her daughter is around Hogwarts often.”

Harry thought so too.

“So, Harry,” the Headmaster said, clapping his hands together. The sound sounded off and Harry was once again reminded of the fact that Dumbledore’s hand was not healing, “I asked you here for two reasons. We still need to discuss the memory you acquired. Secondly, I wanted to ask how your conversations with the Head Auror and the Minister went.”

“Oh, they were okay,” Harry said, waving them away. “They didn’t ask me anything I didn’t expect, although Scrimgeour did threaten “to make my life difficult” if I were to be in the Ministry’s way.”

“Nymphadora and Kingsley tell me that they haven’t changed their view on your innocence. I had conversations with both Robards and Scrimgeour as well. So, I think that part is over and done with. Now, Harry, when we met that fateful Friday night, I forgot to ask you one important question.”

“Oh?” Harry said intrigued.

“Did you enjoy your date with Miss Lovegood?”

Harry stared at him.

“I have been informed that you were seen having a great time.” Dumbledore smiled at him. “I know Miss Lovegood is currently dating Miss Moon but the papers tell me something different!” he continued, clearly taking the mickey.

“And we should always believe what the papers say!” Harry agreed sarcastically.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Ahh, young love! No, but seriously, my boy, I’m glad to hear you managed to forget about everything for a moment and just danced with a pretty girl, or two,” he added with a wink.

Talking about Luna reminded Harry of something. “I don’t know if you’ve been informed, sir, but Luna’s dad is currently planning on publishing a story about Tom Riddle’s background.”

Dumbledore turned serious. “I have been informed. I haven’t personally met Xenophillius that many times, but I agree with Arthur that it is highly unlikely we can convince him to change his mind. But we have decided to add him to the list of people that might be in a heightened state of danger. Alas, we don’t have the manpower to protect everyone,” the Headmaster sighed.

“What do you think Voldemort will do if he does decide to publish it? Granted the story is factual,” he added, remembering that it was the Quibbler they were talking about.

“What do you think? I imagine you have given it some thought?” Dumbledore asked him instead.

“Well, some of the information might be damaging to his reputation with his followers, especially the part about him being a half-blood, right? So he wouldn’t want to have that out there. At the same time, if he were to attack the Quibbler, that might make people think there’s something to it? But then again, people who believe in him will think they’re lies, and they might expect him to attack some spreading these ‘disgusting lies’,” Harry said. “So, I don’t really know,” he concluded.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I agree. At the same time, it might not even be Voldemort himself attacking the Quibbler. There are many within his following that wouldn’t think twice about how an attack might look to potential followers who are on the fence.”

Harry scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “You really think there are people out there that are still on the fence?”

“I’m afraid that there are many out there that would rather choose to not think about it at all. It is the easy thing to do, after all.”

“And we must do what is right,” Harry finished.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Now, the memory. At long last, we have confirmation of the theory of seven.” Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. “Which is good because that means we assumed the right thing. Which, in turn,  hopefully, means your other theories are true as well. And as you once said to me, they usually are,” Harry said with a grin.

Dumbledore chuckled. “You flatter me, Harry.”

“So what now?” Harry asked.

“For now, I’m afraid there’s not much for you to do,” Dumbledore sighed. “We have our theories on what the Horcruxes are, but not on where they are. Seeing as you do not have the luxury of leaving the school, searching for them is, for now, out of the question.”

Harry sat up. “Wait! There is something I can do!” he told his headmaster. “Luna asked me if I was willing to accompany her into the Chamber of Secrets, for her Parseltongue Project. Have you searched the Chamber for Horcruxes?” he asked excitedly.

“I haven’t,” the Headmaster said slowly, “but I doubt Voldemort would hide one there, considering he had already created the Diary by that point. But,” he continued, when Harry had frowned disappointedly, “that doesn’t mean we can’t venture down anyway. There might still be some secrets left to discover within the Chamber.”

“So, you want to come along?” Harry asked.

“I would, yes. I’m curious, though, what does Miss Lovegood hope to find that might help her with her project?” he asked.

“She mentioned hoping to find evidence of Parsel Runes. She figured if there would be a place to find it, it’d be down there,” he explained.

“A sensible deduction indeed,” Dumbledore mused.

“Ron will probably want to come as well, he hasn’t seen the actual Chamber itself,” Harry said.

“And Miss Weasley?” Dumbledore enquired.

Harry thought about it, then speaking slowly he said. “I’m… not sure. I’ll definitely tell her what we are planning to do but whether she’d like to come with,” Harry made a gesture indicating he didn’t know.

“Well, let me know, and I’ll schedule. If Miss Weasley wants to come, tell her her brother William is welcome to accompany us. If we encounter anything Horcrux-related, he might be a helpful addition to our little expedition,” Dumbledore finished, indicating his blackened hand.

“Before we say goodnight, Harry, there is something else I wanted to discuss with you, I just remembered. I promised you we would go to Godrics Hollow and to see whether we could visit your vaults.”

“It’s okay, professor, I understand why we had to postpone that trip,” Harry said honestly.

“Yes, I wanted to propose we do so anyway on a Saturday, say February the 1^st?”

Harry looked at his Headmaster with surprise. “You’re giving me permission to leave the school?”

“Only on that day, in my company,” Dumbledore said sternly.

“That sounds good, professor.”

Then Harry hesitated, remembering the conversation he had had with Ginny about him not returning to the Dursleys. Should he ask Dumbledore?

“Anything on your mind, Harry?” Dumbledore asked politely.

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly. He looked at the headmaster. “I don’t think I’m going back to the Dursleys next summer,” he said seriously.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? May I ask why?”

Harry didn’t think the headmaster sounded like he disagreed or anything, mostly curious.

“Well, the past summers I went back because it was safer, right? But I hardly think it is safer at Privet Drive than at Potter House, of which only we two know the location, right?”

“I agree,” Dumbledore said simply.

“You agree?” Harry said in surprise, as he received his second unexpected answer of the night.

“Indeed, I do. As a matter of fact, I was considering the same thing as well. You’ll have to be moved during the summer anyway as the protection there will fail once you turn seventeen. But that would put us at a strategic disadvantage.”

“Because Voldemort would know, roughly, when I’ll leave?” Harry guessed.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore smiled. “It would therefore be safer, both for you and for those who would act as guards, to not have you return there at all.”

“That does make sense,” Harry said. Dumbledore inclined his head.

Then he looked up again, “But if that is to be the case, I would recommend letting someone else in on the secret. I assume you’ll be wanting to visit the Weasleys?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, but won’t I just be able to go with Dobby or Kreacher? Is it possible to side-apparate with an elf?”

Dumbledore smiled brightly. “It is, but most witches and wizards wouldn’t trust an elf to do so. I’m glad to see the younger generations leaving those antiquated ideas back in the past, where they belong. Having said that, do you trust Kreacher to do so?”

Harry frowned. To be honest, he wasn’t sure but he could always ask Dobby- but no, he had had Kreacher ward Potter House against House Elves that weren’t bonded to him.

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly. “He has stopped insulting me, so that’s a start,” he shrugged.

“I know what Kreacher has done, but I suggest you keep working on your relationship,” Dumbledore said seriously. “I have a feeling he might turn out to be quite valuable for you,”

“I have,” Harry said, “I gave him Cygnus Black the Second’s family ring.”

“Oh, have you? I imagine he was quite pleased with that gift,” Dumbledore smiled.

“He couldn’t believe it. Dobby said he thought I made Kreacher very happy.”

“Good, good,” Dumbledore said, then his eyes twinkled. “And if all else fails, there’s currently an emergency law being discussed the Wizengamot. I hope to be able to announce its ratification no later than this weekend.”

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously.

“You’ll see, I’m sure it’ll be a popular law among the students.”

Chapter Text

The next day Harry and Ron got their first impression of Tonk’s mum as Potions Professor. They made their way into the potion classroom and sat down, looking at the front of the class expectantly.

“Good afternoon,” Professor Tonks said, standing up after everyone had come in. As it had at the feast the day before, her upbringing was showing. She looked polite, stood with a straight back and she looked every part the older sister of Malfoy’s mother she was. Except even now her smile seemed more genuine than he would ever expect to see on the face of Narcissa Malfoy.

“My name is Andromeda Tonks.” She looked over at some noise that came from some of the Slytherins. “I was a Healer, for about 10 years. After my child was born, I changed careers toward potion brewing. Ever since I worked for multiple different Apothecaries, a job that is much more compatible with raising a child.”

She stepped a bit closer to the students.

“Today we start with a theoretical lesson, a recap of the first term if you will.”

With that their Potions class started. And just like Slughorn had a completely different teaching style from Snape, so did Professor Tonks from both men. She was patient, gave hints if someone couldn’t think of the right answer and wasn’t afraid to give compliments. At the same time, there was a sternness to her disposition. But like McGonagall, this seemed to be because she wanted everyone to perform their best.

Two days later, Harry left Ron and Ginny in the common room to head to Professor Tonks’ office. Unsurprisingly, she had chosen to not use Slughorn’s old office. She hadn’t even chosen an office near the dungeons. Her office was on the third floor.

Harry knocked and waited for the invitation before he opened the door.

He walked in and looked around curiously. It was always interesting to see the way a professor chose to decorate their office. It often said something about the kind of person they were. Harry hadn’t known what to expect but it certainly wasn’t that the office would look so pleasant and welcoming. It looked like a home.

Granted, the only office he had ever visited had been those of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lockhart, Snape, Lupin, Umbridge and Slughorn. None of them would ever create an atmosphere such as this. Maybe the office of Professor Sprout had this kind of homely feel to it as well.

There were flowers in vases placed on side tables draped in cloth. There were photo’s on the walls that showed what Harry presumed was Mr Tonks, Tonks’s father. Harry could also track the growth of Tonks herself through some of the photos.

“Ah, Mr Potter. I’m happy you could find some time for me, please have a seat,” Professor Tonks said warmly, indicating the chair.

“I’m sure you are wondering why I asked you to come here,” the new Professor began. Harry thought he saw something flicker in her silvery eyes. “I was hoping to talk to you about some family matters.”

“Family matters?” Harry said in surprise. “Did something happen with Tonks?” he asked in alarm.

Professor Tonks shook her head. “I’m sure you have noticed that she’s been quite down lately, but that’s not what I meant.”

When Harry didn’t say anything, because he honestly didn’t know what she was talking about, Professor Tonks continued.

“The Headmaster informed me that Sirius made you his heir,” Professor Tonks said delicately. “Wouldn’t you say that makes us family?”

Oh.

She continued. “My husband and I have never been members of the order,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but the Headmaster visited us after you helped Sirius escape and informed us of the truth. I always thought there was something fishy with that story, but I never would have thought…” she trailed off.

“Did you know Sirius well? We never really discussed your family,” Harry said.

Professor Tonks sighed, the grief clear on her face.“Sure, I knew him well, he was my cousin after all. The Black family is quite known for having, ahem, great relations between cousins,” she pulled a face like she was smelling something foul and Harry was immediately reminded of Malfoy’s mother. She wore that face most of the time he’d seen her.

“I was in my sixth year when he came to Hogwarts and was sorted in Gryffindor,” she explained, “I will never forget the silence that followed that proclamation, nor Sirius's expression.”

“Was he happy?” Harry asked curiously.

“Not necessarily,” Professor Tonks said, “It’s hard to explain to an, excuse the term, outsider. Sirius knew from a young age that he was different from the rest of our family, even different from me. We both might not have believed in the extreme views the rest of our family held, but at least I still fit in well with Slytherin, much better than the rest of the houses. Sirius never did, and never would have.”

Harry must have unconsciously pulled a face because the Professor tutted. “Yes, I was, and still consider myself, a Slytherin through and through. Is that a problem, Mr Potter?”

“No, no,” Harry hastened to say, “it might’ve been last year, but through the HA I have met some Slytherins who are nice, not like Malfoy and his goons.”

Professor Tonks raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that being Sirius’ Heir, you have become related to Draco? At least, to some extent?”

This time Harry consciously pulled a face, “I know, I try not to think about it.”

“Speaking of Draco, do you know why isn’t at Hogwarts?” she asked carefully.

Harry hesitated. “Well, I think,” he stressed, “that he was the one to plant the poisoned mead with Slughorn, and that Voldemort is keeping him away from Hogwarts.”

She looked sad then, “That poor, poor boy…” she said with a great sigh, shaking her head. 

 “Well, anyway, to get back to Sirius,” she said after a minute, “I think he expected he wouldn’t be placed in Slytherin, secretly maybe even hoped for Gryffindor, but he was at the same time quite aware of the repercussions. He was lucky that my elder sister had just graduated the year prior, she would have been relentless.”

“I can imagine,” Harry growled, his anger spiking when he thought about Bellatrix. He hadn’t even noticed Professor Tonks refusing to say Bellatrix’s name.

“Not that she didn’t try to make every family gathering a living hell for him, of course. The only thing I regret in the way I ran away with Ted, is that it meant I wasn’t around to protect Sirius more. He told me after he had run away himself he didn’t blame me at all, but still…” the Professor let out a shuddering breath and reached out to grab a tissue, dapping it at her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr Potter, what must you think of me,” she apologized with a watery smile.

“It’s okay, Professor Tonks,” he said honestly, and then he chuckled. “I’m sorry, but ‘professor Tonks’ sounds really weird, I’ll have to get used to it,” he apologized, recognizing it’d be rude to chuckle in response to her emotions.

“Well, considering we are related to an extend, you can call me Andromeda, if that’s better,” she said waving his apology away with a smile.

“Only if you call me Harry,” Harry said, smiling back.

“Alright, Harry, as I said, I wanted to discuss some family business,”  Andromeda said, the smile back on her face. Harry nodded, waiting patiently.

She suddenly looked a bit nervous. “I have been thinking, and I apologize if I’m overstepping my boundaries, here,” she said carefully, “but I was talking to Ted about this and I realized that if Sirius hadn’t gone to Azkaban and he had been the one to raise you, I would have been like an aunt to you.” She perched forward on her chair. “I always knew something wasn’t right with how Sirius went to Azkaban, but I just thought he had succumbed to the family madness. Merlin knows, most of our family is insane. But knowing he is innocent, and knowing I didn’t do anything to help him when was stuck in the horrid place,” she shivered.

Like Ginny sometimes did to him, he reached out to grab her hand and squeezed it.

“Have you ever talked to Remus Lupin?” Harry said, “I’m sure he’d understand these feelings quite well,”

Andromeda frowned, “No, I haven’t talked to Remus since before Sirius went to Azkaban, it’s, well, frankly, I don’t know why. I discussed it with Ted but Nymphadora seemed quite adamant it would be of no help. It's like she did not want me to talk to him,” she said leadingly.

“Because she likes him?” Harry asked, without thinking.

“So she does! I knew it!” Andromeda said, her eyes wide.

“Wait!” Harry said in alarm, “I’m not sure she does! Ginny said Tonks did, but I don’t know for sure!”

A Slytherin through-and-through indeed, Harry mused.

“It’s alright, Harry,” Andromeda soothed, “Nymphadora never could keep a secret from me. The real question is why Lupin doesn’t like her back, she’s great!” she finished with a passion. Harry smiled at the love Andromeda clearly had for her daughter.

“But,” she continued, “what I wanted to say, if Sirius hadn’t gone to Azkaban, I like to think we would have regarded each other like cousin and aunt. And as you are now a Black by inheritance… Well, let’s just say, I’d like us to get to know each other a bit better,” she finished and looked at Harry, awaiting his response.

But Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Did she want to be like an aunt to him? Harry’s experience with aunts wasn’t particularly good. But Andromeda had already proven to him that she was far nicer than Petunia had ever been.

But, how did you just accept someone as an aunt? Harry felt like it was way too soon to tell whether he liked Andromeda that much, even if he did understand why she felt the need to approach him like this. He would have done the same thing.

Apparently, he had been quiet too long, because Andromeda smiled and patted his hand.

“We could just share a dinner in private once a fortnight to start with? We could ask Nymphadora to join us if she’s at Hogwarts that day?” she proposed.

“Sure,” Harry said, smiling politely. At least with Tonks there, he knew he would have fun.

-- In Her Memory --

When Harry came entered the Gryffindor common room after their talk with Andromeda, he spotted Ron and Ginny sitting in a quiet corner, talking to each other. Ginny was sitting with her legs crossed, petting a purring Crookshanks, who covered her entire lap. 

He walked up and sat down with them “Hi, Ron, Ginny,”

“Hey, Harry,” Ginny said, smiling at him. Ron nodded in greeting.

“What are you two doing?”

“Oh, we were just talking about how Ron’s doing,” Ginny said, looking at her brother, who looked at his shoes instead.

When he didn’t say anything, Ginny sighed. “Slow progress, but progress,” she said to Harry. “Where’d you come from?”

“I went to talk to Professor Tonks,” he said, smiling as he said the name.

“Oh, right, what did she want?” Ron asked curiously.

“She wanted to talk to me about ‘family matters’,” Harry shrugged, “she said that if Sirius hadn’t gone to Azkaban she would’ve probably been like an aunt to me and because I inherited from Sirius, she wanted to get to know me because we’re sort of family now,”

“Harry, that’s great!” Ginny beamed.

“I guess,” Harry said, shrugging again.

“Oh, shut up, Potter, you moody git” Ginny laughed, reaching over to punch him on the shoulder. “You’re allowed to be happy, you know?”

“I don’t have a good track record with that,” he countered, smirking at her.

“Oh, yes, never mind this war going on,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, “if you are ever happy, we’ll know the world is truly ending.”

Harry laughed but stopped when he saw Ron’s face.

“Could we please not joke about stuff like that?” Ron grumbled.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. Harry was aware that he and Ron did not always have the same sense of humour, but he was only now beginning to notice that Ginny liked her humour on the darker side as well. He shrugged then.

“Oh, Ginny, did you speak to Luna about her plan?” Harry asked, changing the topic. Now he was speaking to Ron and Ginny both, he wanted to inform them about the plan to go back into the Chamber of Secrets.

“Luna constantly has new plans, Harry, you’ve got to be more specific,” Ginny said dryly.

“Right, well,” Harry said, and he cleared his throat, “She asked me to accompany her into the Chamber of Secrets,” he said softly, not taking his eyes off Ginny.

“Ah, that plan,” Ginny said quietly, after a moment.

“Yes, and Dumbledore and I wanted to go down there anyway, to check for clues, you know,” Harry said, “and you both can come along if you want to, and Dumbledore was going to ask Bill to come as well.”

Ginny exhaled slowly. Harry saw Ron looking at her as well. “You don’t have to, of course,” Harry continued, “but I wanted to tell you anyway, so you can make your own decision.”

A hint of smile made its way to her face and Harry smiled.

“When do you want to do this?” Ron asked.

“Not sure, Dumbledore said to tell him whether you two were in, but I doubt it’ll take months,” he said.

“There’s another excursion we’re doing, that I haven’t told you about, actually,” Harry said, remembering. “Dumbledore and I are going to visit both Godrics Hollow, and Gringotts on February 1^st.”

“To visit, you know?” Ron said quietly. Harry nodded. Ginny reached out to squeeze his hand, and Harry made a point to look her in the eye before he squeezed back.

They were silent for a moment then. Harry took the time to look around the common room. Dean and Seamus were talking with Parvati and Lavender, as they usually were. Neville wasn’t there, Harry thought he probably was at the Green Houses. A couple of first years were talking in squeaky voices. Harry couldn’t quite tell what they were talking about, but it seemed they were discussing an accident that happened in their charms class.

Then his eyes roamed over to where Sophie and Lily were doing their homework. At least, Sophie was. Lily met his gaze and frowned. She looked miffed with him. She averted her eyes and looked back to her work, her demeanour stiff.

“Noticed that, have you?” Ginny said quietly to him.

“Is she mad at me?” Harry asked in surprise.

Ginny sighed, “You, or at Luna? I’m not sure,”

“Because of the article?” Ron asked Ginny, then he turned to Harry, “I thought you asked her whether you could take Luna?”

“I did,” Harry confirmed, frowning a bit himself. Had he somehow misinterpreted Lily’s answer? “I’ll ask Luna, I don’t want to be the reason they’re arguing,” Harry said. He would feel terrible if Luna’s relationship with Lily would suffer because of him. Luna deserved all the happiness in the world.

“Speaking of relationships, how are you and Dean?” Harry asked Ginny.

“Oh, you know,” Ginny said, looking at Ron carefully. Ron either got the message, or he didn’t want to hear about Ginny’s relationship with Dean anyway, as he stood up. “I’m heading to bed, busy day tomorrow,” he said, yawning.

“Every day is busy,” Harry remarked.

“Only more reason to get my beauty sleep,” Ron said, winking at Harry.

“Right, then you’ll need every second you can get, mate!” Harry chuckled as Ron flipped him off. Ginny stood up on her chair to hug her brother, displacing a hissing Crookshanks. She whispered something in Ron’s ear. Ron nodded to her, and then made his way up to their dorm.

Harry wondered what she’d said but it wasn’t his business to know. Ginny jumped down and took the chair that was closer to Harry’s. Crookshanks looked at her for a moment and then jumped back onto her lap.

“So, I know you know fuck-all about relationships,” Ginny started. Harry snorted his laughter, making Ginny smirk at him. “But I think I need some male input, anyway, and I’d rather not talk about this with my other male friends,” she said.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, “So, I’m just one of your many male friends, am I?”

Ginny grinned, “Yeah, Potter, you’re nothing special, remember that,” she teased.

“Hey!” Harry mocked protest, “I’m the Chosen One, remember!”

“It must be hard for you,” Ginny said in a mock serious tone, “to be chosen by a guy, rather than a fit girl.”

They both laughed.

“But, er, Dean?” Harry prompted.

“Right”, Ginny said, “so here’s the thing,” she looked around and whispered, “I think I’m going to break up with him,”

“Oh?” Harry said, intrigued. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so intrigued.

“Hold on a sec,” he said, quickly casting a Mufliato around them. “There. So why are you thinking about it?”

“Thanks. It’s nothing big or anything,” Ginny said frowning, “just a lot of small things. Some of them aren’t even that big of a deal outside of that context. For example,” she stopped for a moment to think, “he insists on doing stuff like opening doors for me.”

“Isn’t that what a boyfriend is supposed to do? Be a gentleman?” Harry asked surprised.

“Well, that’s what my friends all say, well aside from Demelza that is,” Ginny said, “but I can’t help but be annoyed by it.”

“Does it have to do with what we talked about on New Year's Eve?” Harry wondered out loud. He figured Ginny was someone who didn’t want help. She wanted to do things on her own.

“Probably,” Ginny sighed.

“Does he know what happened?”

“Of course not, Potter,” Ginny snorted, “Do you think I’m stupid? I don’t want his pity.”

Harry frowned. Surely Ginny couldn’t hide an entire year in her conversations with Dean. “Why would he pity you? If he’s anything like me, he would just realize how strong you are!” Harry said.

Ginny stared at him. Their eyes met and then she whispered, “He isn’t anything like you.”

Harry suddenly realized it was quite warm where they were sitting, but it could just be the blush that was creeping onto his face. 

Then Ginny broke the spell by clearing her throat, “He also seems a bit afraid of my brothers, you know,” she said, looking at her nails. “He only wants to snog when he thinks Ron won’t see us.” She rolled her eyes.

“That’s not true, though,” Harry said, “I remember you two snogging as if your life depended on it at the party after we defeated Slytherin.”

“Potter, you pervert! Watching, were you?” Ginny said laughing. “That’s right! You did say you thought Dean was fit, didn’t you!”

“Oh, shut up, Weasley,” Harry said with disbelieving laughter. “I just meant that everyone could see you two there, so he clearly doesn’t mind that much.”

But Ginny just waved that argument away, “Men may say they have principals, but you only have to whisper in their ears and they’ll do anything for you,” she said.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, “Who told you that?”

“My Grandaunt Muriel,” Ginny said and she winked at him. “Oh, yeah, you haven’t met her yet, right?”

“I probably will at the wedding, right?” Harry asked.

Ginny couldn’t hide the distaste on her face.

“Oh, come on, Fleur’s not that bad. You’re just mad she’s taking Bill away,” Harry said, challenging her to contradict him.

But Ginny didn’t do that, “Well, yes, I guess that’s sort of true, he is my favourite brother, but I also just don’t like Fleur,” she with finality.

When Harry wanted to argue, she interrupted him. “You just like her because she’s a Veela!”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I’m not Ron,” he said with a wink. “Veela’s honestly don’t do much for me, not after I experienced them at the Quidditch World Finals.”

“No blondes sashaying through your dreams, then?” Ginny asked with a smirk.

Harry blushed again but responded anyway. “I wish my dreams were that pleasant.”

Well, that brought the mood down nicely.

“But you really got to give Fleur a chance, she’s nice once you get to know her,” Harry continued then.

Ginny shrugged, “I’ll have to, haven’t I? I’m not going to convince Bill to dump her.”

They were silent again. Harry looked around the Gryffindor common room to see they were now alone.

“So, er, did you need any actual advice about what to do with Dean?” Harry asked.

“No, I just wanted to see what you thought, which was unsurprisingly little,” Ginny said teasingly.

 She stood up and so did Harry. She looked at him. “Thank you, Harry, for, you know, thinking of me when Luna asked you to go down to the chamber. I think,” she swallowed, “I think want to join.”

“No problem, Ginny. We’re all in this together, you know.” It was true. The war would touch them all one way or another. But Ginny and he and Ron, and Neville and Luna to a lesser extent, were involved much more directly.

Then Ginny stepped forward and hugged him. Harry stiffened.

When Ginny let go, she looked at him sadly. “I guess we’ll have to work on that, Potter.” With that she quickly made her way up to her dorm room, leaving Harry alone in the common room.

He sat down in his chair.

Ginny had hugged him. The last, and only girl, that had hugged him had been Hermione. It had taken at least a year before Harry had felt comfortable enough to hug Hermione back when she initiated it.

For some reason, he didn’t want it to take that long for him to be comfortable enough to hug Ginny back.

-- In Her Memory --

The next two weeks passed by rather quickly. Harry had been testing the Instant-Letter and they seemed to work quite well. The Twins were now using them to send Harry jokes every day. The HA had spent the first two lessons practising everything they had done before Christmas. Quidditch had started up again. Harry, Ron and Ginny had decided to use the first week back to just get back into the swing of things. The January weather wasn’t really suitable for flying, but, as Ginny said, Slytherin and Ravenclaw always had a match in January, so there was no reason not to fly. Good flyers could fly in any weather, she’d said.

The emergency law Dumbledore had spoken about, was passed in the second week. As part of a larger emergency packet concerning both restrictions and the loosening of existing restrictions, Witches and Wizards who weren’t yet 17 could now legally apparate, as long as they could prove sufficiently that they did so because of a direct danger to their life. Because of this change in regulations, the scheduled Apparation classes would be given to 4^th and 5^th years as well, for those who were interested.

During the first dinner he shared with Andromeda, she explained that most young witches and wizards did not yet have the skill and power to actually apparate. This was why the age was set at 17. But in times of war, there were always bouts of accidental magic that made people do things they normally couldn’t. This law would hopefully go a long way to give people more ways to escape dangerous situations.

Even though Harry’s experience with side apparition wasn’t very pleasant, he was still looking forward to trying it out. Considering his bad luck, he’d probably need to be able to apparate before the year was done. And if he could, he would be able to visit the Burrow more easily, at least after he had turned 17.

Dinner had been pleasant as well. Andromeda told him about how she met her husband, some stories about Sirius, but mostly tales of Tonks. Harry had been surprised to learn that she had dated Charlie Weasley for a while. They had broken up when they realized they were better as friends. She also told him how it was difficult to raise a young Metamorphmagus.

Tonks had learned very early on that if she wanted something, she should transform her face slightly, so she looked more like either her mother or father, depending on who she was talking to. Harry had laughed. Why use puppy eyes, when you could transform your own to match your parents’ partner? Much more effective!

Harry also got an answer to something that he had been wondering about since Ginny had commented on it. What did Tonks actually look like? Did her powers stop when she was sleeping or unconscious, for example?

Andromeda explained that they did have somewhat of an idea. When Tonks was just a baby, the first colour her hair had shown was a light brown colour, like Andromeda’s hair. But even that could, in theory, not have been her actual hair colour, but a subconscious mirroring of her mother. The same was true with her eye colour. It was likely that she resembled her parents, after all.

Something Harry hadn’t considered was how her Metamorphmagus ability had increased her clumsiness. Apparently, she had inherited that particular trait from Ted but it was exacerbated by the fact that her legs weren’t the same size from day to day. Luckily, the shoes she wore prevented her feet from subconsciously growing too large.

But what Harry thought sounded even rougher, was how Andromeda described Tonks’s later years at Hogwarts. Harry had never thought about it, but being a Metamorphmagus in a school filled with randy teenagers sounded like absolute hell. Harry thought he could relate to being noticed for something you had no hand in. Well, as far as being the Boy-Who-Lived, that was. He couldn’t deny that he had built up his reputation even more over his Hogwarts years.

Harry also took the opportunity to ask her whether she’d be willing to give Healing lessons to the HA. She had trained as a healer after all, and Madam Pomfrey still couldn’t teach structurally. Andromeda accepted, saying Dumbledore had told her that Harry would probably ask, and she said she was going to take January to brush up on her Healing magic, and then start giving some lessons on Tuesday.

Harry had walked away from the dinner feeling glad he had accepted her invitation. He was by far not comfortable enough to actually think of her as an aunt. But it was fun just talking to someone who didn’t want him to do anything or want anything from him. Remus was like that as well, but even he came with his own issues. In that regard, Andromeda was somewhat of a clean slate

January also brought news for the gossip-mongers at Hogwarts. Ginny had indeed decided to break up with Dean, and they seemed to have parted ways on friendly terms. Even if they had, Dean did seem cold towards Harry and Ron. Ron didn’t say it out loud, but Harry could see he was secretly relieved. Even more so when Ginny said she probably wouldn’t date again any time soon. There was just too much going on at the moment, she’d said.

Harry, remembering what Remus had told him last summer, frowned at this. He rather felt that it seemed like giving in to fear to not live your life because of Voldemort lurking outside. However, Ron rightly pointed out that Harry did the same thing constantly. Harry thought his situation wasn’t quite comparable to Ginny’s, but he did see Ron’s point.

A less-expected break-up happened a couple of days later.

Harry had already felt like something was amiss when Luna had missed the Tuesday session of the HA. She hadn’t missed a single one up until that point. When they finished up, he waved for Ginny to wait for a minute.

When only Ron, Harry and Ginny were left in the Room, Harry asked Ginny if she knew where Luna was.

Ginny frowned, “I haven’t seen her at all today. She even missed Ancient Runes this morning.” They all looked at each other. Then, it was Ron who asked the question. “Do you think anything happened? Should we go look for her?”

Ginny bit her lip. “We’d better. The issue is, Luna knows a lot of secret hideaways at the castle. All that wandering she does, you know?”

Harry grabbed the Map from his bag and together they searched for a dot named Luna Lovegood. If what Ginny said was true, there was a small chance she had found a place that wasn’t on the map. But the map came through this time. Luna was in a small chamber on the west wing of the third floor.

They made their way over to the third floor. The entrance seemed to be behind a portrait that Harry wasn’t familiar with. Luna, of course, had probably talked to more portraits at Hogwarts than any student ever had.

The haughty-looking witch in the portrait looked at them with disdain. She was sitting on a chair in front of what seemed to be some sort of garden.

“Yes? Can I help you?” she said lazily.

“Uh, yes, we’re looking for our friend Luna,” Ginny said.

“Are you?” the witch in the portrait said. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Have you seen her? We haven’t seen her the entire day, we are worried about her.”

“And what is she to you?”

“She’s our friend,” Ginny said with a frown. “Now, could you help us, or not? We know you're guarding an entrance.”

“My, my,” the witch said slowly, reaching over to grab a fan and waving it in her face. “Such a temper, how unladylike.”

“I’ll show you how unladylike I can be if you don’t open up right now!” Ginny bit out.

The witch in the painting just raised her eyebrows, so Harry stepped in.

“We haven’t seen Luna this entire day, she even missed something she would never miss if she was okay. So we are worried and want to make sure she’s alright. Could you help us,” he quickly looked at the nameplate under the painting, “Mrs Selwyn?” He smiled brightly at her.

The witch looked at him and increased the movement of her fanning. “Well, well, well, at least someone has some manners,” she said from behind her fan. Harry thought she was using it to hide a smile.

“I may or may not have seen this Luna you are searching for. Either way, I doubt you will find out how to get past me.”

“They won’t need to,” a soft voice said from behind the portrait. It sounded unmistakably like Luna’s voice, but it missed its characteristic dreamy tone.

The witch in the painting turned around in her painting and said, “Are you sure, my dear?”

“Yes, they are my friends,” Luna said, and as the witch turned around the portrait swung open to show Luna. She looked like she hadn’t slept much, even if she was still in what Harry thought were her night pyjamas plus a sweater.

“Oh,” she said in surprise. “Hello, Ronald, I didn’t expect you to be here,” she said, looking at Ron. “Are we friends too?”

“Uh, sure?” Ron said bewildered.

“Okay, then you can come in as well,” Luna said with a small smile on her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“Speaking of,” Harry said, as they climbed into the small entranceway, “What is this place, Luna?”

“It’s a safe haven for maidens in need of one, as Mrs Selwyn explained to me, “ Luna said, as they came into a very small room. The only things in there were a couch, a fireplace, and a window overlooking the Hogwarts grounds. The four of them wouldn’t fit on the couch, so Harry remained standing as the others sat down.

“A safe haven?” he asked. He wondered how and why the Marauders had known about this place if that was the case.

Luna nodded, looking at her hands.

“Are you in danger from anyone, Luna?” Ginny asked worriedly.

“Just myself,” Luna said cryptically, now staring into the fireplace.

They were quiet for a long moment. Ron was twiddling his thumbs, clearly unsure of what to do or say.

Ginny, on the other hand, wiggled closer to Luna and put her arm around her shoulders. “You know you can tell us anything, right Luna?”

Luna nodded. “I…” she began, then she stopped again. She turned around and looked Ginny in the eyes.

“Did you ever consider being in a relationship with both Dean and Harry at the same time?”

Ginny spluttered, Ron almost fell from the coach, and Harry was sure he had misheard.

“Because apparently, that’s not okay,” Luna said in a tone that could only be described as bitter.

Ginny looked at him and raised an eyebrow, even if she was blushing a bit. “No, Luna, I haven’t ever thought about that. I take it you have?”

“No,” Luna said, “Dean is nice and all but the way you said he snogs sounds unpleasant.”

Ron made a grunting noise and Ginny rolled her eyes. Both at Ron, Harry thought, and in fond exasperation of Luna missing the point of her question.

“What I meant was, have you ever thought about having a relationship with multiple people, Luna?”

Luna wiggled a bit in place, still frowning slightly. “Yes,” she said.

“And who told you that that isn’t okay?” Harry continued.

“Lily said so,” Luna mumbled sadly.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” Ginny said softly, stroking Luna’s hair, “Harry and I noticed she’s been looking grumpy since we came back from Christmas.”

“We had a fight,” Luna mumbled, now playing with a new bracelet she’d been wearing since Christmas.

“About?”

Luna shot a quick glance at Harry but kept her focus on her bracelet. But Harry got the point.

“So, it was the article, right?” he said angrily. “I swear I’ll get that cow somehow,” he muttered.

“She didn’t like the way Skeeter talked about you and Harry?” Ron clarified.

Luna shrugged, “She came back from Christmas with a nasty Jezens infection. I should have realized it wasn’t the right time to tell her…”

“Tell her what, Luna?” Ginny said, grabbing Luna’s hand.

“She asked about the article, whether I thought Harry Potter fancied me and Ginny Weasley. I said I didn’t think Harry Potter fancied me, but that if he did, I’d be willing to invite him in because he is very nice.”

“Invite me where?” Harry asked nonplussed, skipping over Luna’s compliment.

“Into her and Lily’s relationship, right?” Ginny said, kicking Ron with her heel when he made a disbelieving noise. “I’m guessing Lily didn’t like that very much?”

Luna shook her head, making her hair hang in front of her face, almost like she was hiding.

“What did you tell her?” Ginny said. Harry decided to just let Ginny handle it from her, she was far better at it than either he or Ron.

“I told her I don’t really understand why most people only have one partner. Isn’t it better to love many people?” She looked up then and looked at Ginny earnestly. “Right?”

“Well,” Ginny said slowly and carefully, her eyes wide, “I think, if that’s how you feel, there’s nothing wrong with that. If it makes you feel any better, I am not surprised in the least that you feel that way.”

Luna smiled fleetingly. “Lily doesn’t agree. I think she doesn’t want to “share”, but it isn’t sharing, it’s multiplying!”

“And that’s okay too, right, that she doesn’t want to … do that?”

“Yes, but I hoped…” Luna said, her lower lip trembling.

“Was she mad at you?” Harry asked. He didn’t think Lily was someone who would be, she seemed quite open-minded herself, but if she had been, Harry was going to have some words.

Luna shook her head, “No, but she was overcome with Aemulors, I could see them flying around her.”

Then, Ron, ever the subtle one, asked, “So did you break up?”

Luna’s lower lip trembled even harder, while Harry shot Ron an exasperated glance. Ginny looked cross as well.

“I’m not sure,” Luna said, her usual dreamy voice nowhere to be heard. “But I’m not sure I want to be with someone so close-minded,” she said, with a frown on her face. “I thought she’d be different,” she whispered, and she wiped the back of her hand over her eyes.

Seeing her tear up, Harry scooted a bit closer to the couch and grabbed her hand, trying to soothe her like she had done to him after he had cursed Malfoy. Harry thought about what Luna had said. In comparison to Luna, Lily might indeed be close-minded, but Lily herself was quite open-minded compared to the average person, be they magical or muggle. Luna was just out there, and he could see that being an issue in building relationships. Luckily, their little group didn’t have a problem with it.

They sat there for the next half an hour, talking about this and that. Harry couldn’t help but wonder whether he would ever be so lucky to find love. At least, Luna and Ginny had their entire lives in front of them to find it. He wasn’t sure whether Ron would ever truly get over Hermione and the infinite could-have-beens. But Harry was living on borrowed time, it felt. Every day the clock ticked closer to the inevitable end, where he would either defeat Voldemort or die trying.

But if he had learned one thing from Ron’s burnout, it was that it was important to just sit down with your friends. The end was coming, and even though Harry was going to do everything he could to make sure it would end with victory, he knew what Dumbledore would say.

If love was the “power he knows not” then it meant he had to take time out of his schedule to be with his friends. So he called for Kreacher, got some Butterbeers and snacks, and gladly did so with three of his closest friends. 

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up on Saturday, the first day of February, it was with both dread and excitement. Dread because they would be visiting the grave of his parents. Subdued excitement to be visiting his vault.

Needless to say, Harry was having trouble eating breakfast, while Ginny and Ron tried to make conversation.

“Harry, I was thinking about throwing Luna a party,” Ginny said.

“Hmm?” Harry said distractedly, busy pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked up.

“What?” he said in an annoyed tone.

Ginny just looked at him for a moment. Then she relented, with a sigh and rolling her eyes, “I’m thinking of throwing Luna a birthday party in two weeks, but I’m not sure when or where.”

“When’s her birthday again?” Ron asked, saving Harry the effort of speaking.

“February 13^th, it’s a Thursday, so normally, I’d say let’s throw a party on Friday, but that’s Valentine's day,” Ginny said.

“Oh, right,” Harry said.

When neither Ron nor Harry said anything more, Ginny groaned. “Ugh, you guys are so boring. Let me take care of it.”

Harry shrugged and then turned to Ron. He wasn’t in the mood to think about parties or Valentine’s day.

“So, what are you doing today?”

Ron thought for a moment, “Well, I’ll save the homework for tomorrow, so we can do it together.”

Harry nodded his thanks. Ginny scoffed and shook her head. Harry assumed she thought Ron didn’t need an excuse to not do his homework.

“So,” Ron continued, “I’ll practice for McGonagall and work on some other ideas I’ve had.”

“Ideas?” Harry asked. He hadn’t heard Ron mention anything about this.

“You know, like trying to make spells invisible, stuff like that. Can I use your Instant Letter? Fred & George are bound to have some ideas about stuff like that. I mean, they already made those hats that made your head invisible, right?”

“Yeah, sure!” Harry said, wondering what else Ron would come up with.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore standing up from the Head Table. Harry stood up as well. So fast, in fact, he bumped the table so hard Ron’s pumpkin juice spilt over it.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized distractedly. Neville, who had just come up to them, took out his wand and wordlessly vanished the mess.

“Nicely done, Neville!” Ginny complimented him.

Neville shrugged and smirked self-deprecating, “I use that spell a lot, you know how clumsy I am.”

While Neville took Harry’s place at the table, Ginny whispered “good luck”, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

Harry waited until Dumbledore approached, greeting the headmaster.

“Good morning, Mr Potter, are you ready for our little excursion?” the old man smiled genially.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, not sure if that was a lie or not.

As they made their way onto the Hogwarts grounds Dumbledore spoke up again. “I tried to get Remus to join us, but sadly, he was otherwise engaged.”

“Order stuff?” Harry guessed. He hoped Remus would have shown if had been anything else.

Dumbledore nodded. “Would you rather visit Gringotts or Godric’s Hollow first?”

Harry thought about it. “Are we sure we can get into Gringotts?” He questioned.

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem. For a wizard, my relations with the Gringotts Goblins are rather good, that is to say, we treat each other respectfully,” the Headmaster responded.

“Then, Godrics Hallow first,” Harry said, swallowing away the lump in his throat.

When they made their way out of the Hogwarts gates, Harry thought he felt it when he passed through the wards.

“Yes,” Dumbledore mused, noticing Harry’s reaction, “with the wards as thick as they are, it is sometimes possible to feel them.”

Harry nodded, reaching out to grab the Headmaster’s proffered arm. They arrived with a slight stumble, Dumbledore having to grab Harry’s arm to keep from falling over.

“My excuses, Harry,” Dumbledore said, a frown on his face, “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been here. I miscalculated a bit there,”

“It’s okay, sir,” Harry said distractedly. He was already looking around in interest.

“What do you know about Godric's Hollow, Harry?” Dumbledore asked as he led them toward what Harry supposed was the town square.

“Er, not much,” Harry confessed, “I’m assuming it has to do with Gryffindor in some way?”

“Nicely deducted, Harry,” the older man chuckled, “Indeed, this town was named after its most famous former inhabitant: Godric Gryffindor. But as you know, many a famous witch and wizard have lived here.”

Harry looked around, the town did seem to have an old look to it. Not dilapidated, but grand, or rather, ancestral.

“As I believe I told you already,” Dumbledore continued, “Bathilda Bagshot lives here. And your classmate, Hannah Abbott does as well. When we visit the cemetery, I dare say you’ll find many familiar surnames: there are some Fleamonts buried here, Prewetts, Rosiers, Peverells, even some Quirrells, all families that have since left Godrics Hollow.”

“But muggles do live here? Hogsmeade is the only all-magical village in Britain, right?” Harry questioned.

Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, but as Godric’s Hollow is one of the few towns in Great Britain that was founded by solely magical people, it remains one of the few in which the magical population outweighs the muggle population. But that also has to do with the fact that most witches or wizards don’t live in cities or towns. Apart from those residing in places like Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, most choose to live away from others.”

Harry guessed this was right. Potter House was in the middle of New Forest, the Weasleys, Lovegoods and Diggorys all lived away from others as well. He imagined the Malfoys wouldn’t live in a city or town either. 

They turned a corner. There, at the edge of the town square was the town’s church with a cemetery next to it and a statue in front of it.

“Sir? Is the church muggle?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore stopped walking. “Why do you ask?” he asked curiously.

“Well, it’s just that, I’ve never even heard anyone, magical that is, mention anything about religion. I know Luna believes in some sort of afterlife, but well, she isn’t representative of the wider magical population. But my parents were buried next to this church, right? Does that mean they were religious?”

“An astute observation, Harry,” Dumbledore said, “What do you remember from your History of magic classes?”

Truth be told, Harry thought, not a lot. But he wasn’t going to tell Dumbledore that! He stretched his mind back as far as he could, trying to remember anything about religion mixing with magic.

“I mean, there were a lot of witch burnings, right?”

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. Harry suspected he knew exactly how little he remembered from his History of Magic classes.

“There certainly are places on earth where religion and magic, either muggle or actual magic, mix. But here, in Great Britain, the two have long been separated. It wasn’t unheard of in the early medieval period for priests to be wizards. They saw their magic as a gift from their god. But when the muggle population turned against the use of magic, most witches and wizards left the organized religions they had been part of.”

Dumbledore looked contemplative. “You could make the argument, however, that they never stopped “believing”, but rather replaced what they used to believe in with a higher power they could readily see and use: magic.”

“Would you say that is why certain traditions like Christmas, are kept alive, even if most magical people aren’t necessarily religious?” Harry asked.

“That might indeed have something to do with it,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “But let us leave these philosophical questions for later. There is something you must see first.”

They walked on in silence, their destination being the statue.

As Harry came closer he could see it was a memorial for fallen soldiers. He wondered why Dumbledore wanted to show him this.

But as he came even closer the statue suddenly shifted. The obelisk covered in names, shrunk but got wider. Instead of one long object, there were now two smaller ones. People sitting next to each other. They were holding something in their arms.

As Harry looked closer he began to recognize certain familiar details. The left person was a man with untidy hair and glasses. Next to him was a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face. They were holding a baby.

Harry drew closer, gazing up into his parents’ faces. He had never imagined there would be a statue. How strange it was to see himself represented in stone, a happy baby without a scar on his forehead.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said softly, understanding Harry's unspoken questions. “It was placed here not even a week after that fateful Halloween. It was commissioned by the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry looked at it again, in silent contemplations, the what-ifs filling his mind

“Will we go see the cottage?” he asked. He knew he owned it, but he wondered what state it was in.

“If you want,” the Headmaster said, inclining his head, “would you prefer to visit there first?”

Harry shrugged. He didn’t know what he wanted.

“Let us go visit the cottage first, then go back to visit your parents’ graves,” Dumbledore said, deciding for him with a heavy tone.

Harry followed him in silence, not paying that much attention to the houses around him. But he did pay attention to the route they were taking. They’d passed the church on the left hand side, turned left into a street and continued until they turned right into the third street. There, at the end of the street, a dark mass blossomed.

Harry felt the weather was appropriate for this visit. It was dreary and overcast with a strong wind. His flapping cloak and the noises made by the swinging trees made Harry feel like he was walking in some kind of post-apocalyptic world. For some reason, this helped straighten out his feelings.

Unknowingly, he had sped up, leaving Dumbledore a couple of steps behind. Then he came to a stop and looked at the place that had once been his home, his first home.

The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken him from the rubble that still lay scattered amongst the now waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy.

The left side, though, had been blown apart from the inside. Harry knew for certain that was where it had happened. He had seen enough Avada Kedavra’s being used to know of its power.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said, from somewhere behind him, “the house has been left with a scar. Nobody has ever tried, as far as I know, but this damage is irreparable, by magical means at least. The magic that clashed here, it must’ve been tremendous.”

Harry just stood there, staring at it, taking in every little detail he could see. There were a lot of planters around, now growing different kinds of weeds.

“Touch the fence, Harry,” Dumbledore encouraged him.

Harry hesitated for a second, then reached out and grasped the thickly rusted gate. He thought it felt good to hold a part of his history like this. Then, a sign sprouted out of the ground, like a flower trapped in that time loop he had seen in the Department of Mysteries.

The sign told the story of the house. But Harry was more interested in the scribbles surrounding the official text. Years of encouraging messages had been left, the newer ones all saying things like “we believe you, Harry,” or good luck messages. Harry thought it was brilliant.

“Can we go in?” he asked, looking back at Dumbledore, who nodded.

“The magic your mother used is still present, I hardly think anything dark could get through,” he explained.

Harry opened the gate, the creaking sending shivers down his spine. He walked up to the house, slowly, like he had to convince himself with every step to continue.

As he walked up, he felt his scar beginning to sting and he stopped. He knew Voldemort wouldn’t be here, but still.

“Sir? My scar…”

Dumbledore smiled sadly, “yes, I would imagine it would hurt being here,”

“Is it because it’s a remnant of dark magic?” Harry questioned.

Dumbledore nodded but didn't explain further.

Harry turned around and walked up to the front door, which only hang on half of its hinges.

He stepped his first two steps into the cottage and stopped, standing in the hallway.

What was immediately clear was that whatever had stopped dark creatures from entering the house, had not prevented dust from settling, as everything was absolutely covered by it. Except for one place near the stairs. Harry couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw an outline, like the layer of dust there was thinner somehow.

Was that where…?

He quickly continued, hearing Dumbledore enter behind him.

He entered through the left-hand door and stepped into the living room. He looked around with bated breath, hoping for some memory to come back, or recognition to spark. He couldn’t suppress the disappointment when neither happened.

But memories were held in this place, in the form of photos. They were everywhere, possibly giving Harry a small glimpse into what it was like to be unable to leave your house for your safety. Harry would have gone crazy, knowing his friends were out there risking their lives. He knew Sirius had struggled with it. He assumed his dad had too.

Most of the photo’s he recognized from his albums, but there were a couple of ones Harry didn’t have. There was one depicting his father with a cat perched upon his head. Had they owned a cat? What had happened to it? Others featured his mother with her friends. He grabbed one such picture. His mother was posing with four friends, at the shores of the black lake at Hogwarts. They looked to be about fifteen or sixteen.

Harry hadn’t looked at the album in months, but now he looked at this picture of his mother, he remembered what Slughorn had said. She and Ginny didn’t look alike, apart from the hair colour, of course, though the texture wasn’t the same. His mum didn’t have freckles and she was taller than Ginny. But both were pretty, Harry thought.

He shifted his focus to the other girls. One he recognized as Marlene McKinnon, who had been part of the Order as well. The others he didn’t recognize, and they weren’t all Gryffindors either. He could see two Hufflepuff ties and one Ravenclaw.

He looked back at where Dumbledore was standing, studying the photos as well.

“Sir? Could you tell me who my mum’s friends were?” he asked, handing Dumbledore the photograph.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said smiling, he pointed at the most left one, a tall and heavy-set girl with blonde hair. “Mary MacDonald, Hufflepuff, the same year as your parents. She fell victim to a nasty prank in their fifth year due to her blood status. She fled to the United States almost immediately after she graduated, partly due to her boyfriend being American, I believe,” Dumbledore said pensively.

“Then, Marlene McKinnon, have you heard about her?” he continued.

Harry nodded, so Dumbledore pointed at the third girl instead. This girl had black hair, wore a Ravenclaw tie and had a stern expression, though Harry thought he could see her lips twitch as she tried to maintain her expression.

“Cassia Barlow, Ravenclaw,” Dumbledore said, “I’m afraid I’m not sure what happened to her. I do remember they had a big falling out in their sixth year, although I’m not sure what the cause was.”

Harry thought that name sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure.

The fourth girl in the picture was Harry’s mum, so their focus shifted to the fifth girl. She had curly sandy brown hair and was for some reason missing a front tooth. It was undeniable Alice Longbottom, who Harry had not recognised at first. In the only photo he had seen of her, she had had her hair short.

“Yes, Mr Longbottom’s mother, in this photo still a Fawley. She’s a year older than the rest of the girls in this photo,” Dumbledore commented.

Harry looked at the photo and sighed sadly. He didn’t know what he expected but he was still sad to learn that none of his Mum’s friends seemed to be around anymore, albeit in different ways.

“I gather you had not yet seen some of these photographs?” Dumbledore noted.

Harry shook his head.

“Why don’t you call Kreacher and ask him to transfer them to Potter Manor?” Dumbledore suggested.

Harry smiled. “Good idea, sir, I will, but I want to see the rest of the house first.”

The kitchen was also coated in dust, so they slowly made their way up to the stairs of the two-floored house. Somebody, probably Remus, had removed all the food from the cupboards.

The steps creaked as Harry made his way up, Dumbledore following sombrely.

Harry kept looking down until he arrived on the landing. Then, he slowly looked up. Two doors on this floor were closed. The other one was missing. Through the doorframe, he could see the sky outside. There was a crib to the left of the room he was looking in.

He let out a shuddering breath.

There it was.

His scar, which had been hurting the entire time, gave a sudden pinch and he rubbed the back of his hand against it. It made sense it would hurt the most at the place where he had gotten it, he thought.

He stood in the doorframe, not daring to fully enter the room. He looked around the room. There was a crib near the wall to the left, across from the gaping hole in the walls and ceiling. In his crib lay what Harry supposed used to be a flying chime of some sort. It was rather small, but Harry thought he could at least recognize the miniature broomsticks that had once flown around it.

The dresser featured more photos of himself as a baby. Harry smiled as he spotted the large Gryffindor quilt on the wall. There was a visible discolouration from where the sun had shone through the hole in the wall.

“Harry?” a soft voice inquired from behind him, spooking him. He had completely forgotten Dumbledore was there also.

Harry swallowed. “I…” but he didn’t say anything more. He just turned around. He had seen enough. He brushed past the Headmaster and quickly made his way down the stairs and stepped outside of the house.

He breathed in deeply.

Then, remember what Dumbledore had suggested, he called for Kreacher.

He popped in immediately, looking around himself wearily.

“Master Harry called?” he said in a polite tone of voice before he continued whispering to himself. “What is this place, Kreacher wonders. Very powerful magic in the air, oh yes…”

If it hadn’t been for where they were, Harry would have probably noticed Kreacher's politeness. But Harry felt like he could hardly keep himself together. He had never been good at controlling his emotions, and the only reason he wasn’t outwardly acting out was that the turmoil inside hadn’t yet resulted in a clear winner. He simply didn’t know whether to prioritise anger or grief.

“Hello, Kreacher,” Dumbledore said from behind, “do you know where we are?”

Kreacher shook his head, “Kreacher doesn’t know, Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“We are at Potter cottage, where the one you will know as the Dark Lord first fell, 15 years ago,” Dumbledore explained to the elf.

Kreacher’s eyes widened in what Harry thought was fear, not the admiration Harry might have expected, considering his former masters. He couldn’t remember whether he had ever been in Kreacher’s presence when Voldemort was discussed, so he didn’t know whether this reaction was unusual for the elf.

“And what does Master Harry want Kreacher to do?” Kreacher croaked, his eyes wide.

“I want you to go into the house and retrieve all the personal items left there: photos, books, diaries, letters, basically everything that isn’t furniture. Bring it over to Potter House and put it all together in one of the rooms. Can you do that?” Harry asked.

Kreacher seemed to relax a little, before nodding and popping away.

-- In Her Memory --

Harry had made it a point not to think about all the things he might think about when he was confronted with his parents' graves for the first time. But if he had, realizing his mother would have turned 37 just that past Thursday, wouldn’t have been on the list. Somehow he had never quite realized how young they had been.

January 30^th, 1960. That’s when Lily Evans had been born. His father had been born on the 27^th of March. His mum had been older than his dad. He wondered whether they had joked about that. Considering what he knew about his father, he probably had. He should ask Remus about that, Harry told himself.

The stone itself was of white marble. In Harry’s mind, this meant that it had not been commissioned by Petunia. Harry could not even imagine she would choose something so nice.

The flowers surrounding the stone seemed to be charmed. Otherwise, they would not have been in bloom in January.

Harry figured that that’s what was meant by the message on the stone: “The last enemy that shall be defeated is death.”

At first, Harry had mistaken it for a Death Eater idea. But with the flowers and white marble, which seemed to shine in the dark, the picture gave an impression of life, even in death. He figured that’s what was meant by whoever had commissioned the message.

He turned around to ask Dumbledore who had commissioned the graves, but the Headmaster stood two rows further back, staring at a different grave.

With a last look at his parents’ names, Harry made his way over to Dumbledore. The headmaster was whispering and Harry only caught the last part of what he said: “… you proud.”

The dark tombstone was much older than his parents had been. It also held two names: Kendra Dumbledore and Ariana Dumbledore. Both had passed away in 1899, Ariana aged only 14.

“Your mother and sister, sir?” Harry inquired softly.

He was surprised to hear Dumbledore let out a shuddered breath. The Headmaster smiled sadly at him but didn’t respond. Harry didn’t need an answer anyway, he could see it on his face. Did Dumbledore look almost … guilty? But, also determined in some way.

“Are you okay, sir?” he asked.

“Yes, Harry, thank you. Forgive an old man his emotions, will you? I was supposed to be here in support of you,” Dumbledore said.

Harry shrugged, a tiny smile tugging on his lips. “It’s clear you loved your mother and sister, sir, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Something shot through the Headmaster's eyes, but it was gone before Harry could analyse what it could have been.

“Was there something you wanted to ask, Harry?” the Headmaster asked instead.

“Oh, yes, that message on the tombstone, about defeating death? Does it mean that life exists even in death?”

Dumbledore, who had by now regained his usual demeanour, looked thoughtful. “That’s one way to explain the sentiment, yes. Another would be that death isn’t the end for us, in whatever way you envision it.”

Before Harry could say anything about the discussion they had had early that day, Dumbledore continued. “Well, I guess I must amend that statement somewhat. ‘Life after death, in whatever way you envision’, yes, but crucially, not in the shape of portraits.”

“Why not?” Harry asked before he frowned, “Now you mention it, I guess I had expected there to be at least some portraits of family members at Potter House.”

“The Potter family has traditionally not believed in the use of magical portraits,” Dumbledore explained. “The actual reason I don’t know, it was kept in the family, although I have theories.”

“Of course you have theories,” Harry said wryly, and Dumbledore chuckled.

“Yes, my guess is that the Potters of old decided that what is dead should stay dead. Even a facsimile of life, like a ghost or a portrait, was looked down on by them. You could even argue that the Potters, who were mostly sorted into Gryffindor, might have seen the idea that one needed to leave something behind that could speak as a failure of some kind.”

Harry frowned. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“But,” Dumbledore continued, “I do know for certain that there have to be some non-magic portraits of family members, somewhere, because the use of such “mugglish tendencies” was used as one of the arguments that led to the Potters being labelled as “blood traitors” in the earliest years of this century.”

“What were the other reasons?” Harry asked interestedly. He really should look up some history of his own family.

“Depending on how far back you want to,” Dumbledore said, as they made their way out of the graveyard, “Well, centuries ago, the first big reason was the Potters were in favour of the Statute of Secrecy, as opposed to going to war with the muggles.”

It showed the dismal state of the History of Magic class that Harry hadn’t even known about the possibility of open warfare between the Muggles and the Magical world.

“Then various centuries of siding with so-called pro-muggle laws, like the abolition of muggle-hunting, up to your great-grandfather wanting Magical Britain to aid Muggle Britain in the first World War. That’s around the time your family was no longer considered a “sacred” pure-blood family.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel proud of his family. It sure sounded like they had always been progressive politically. Even if they had been pure-blood up until he and his mum.

“Yes,” Dumbledore smiled, as always being quite aware of what he was thinking, “you truly are a Potter, Harry.”

-- In Her Memory --

It was weird, walking through Diagon Alley in the company of Albus Dumbledore. Harry was quite used to being stared at, but he wasn’t quite used to people making room for him the way people seemed to do for Dumbledore. It was almost like he had cast an Imperturbable charm on himself.

As the white marble of Gringotts Wizarding Bank raised in front of him, Harry thought of something. Something that potentially could be very bad.

“Gringotts is the safest place in the world for anything you want to keep safe – except maybe Hogwarts,”

The words Hagrid had told him the first time he had come to Diagon Alley came back to him. As they made their way up the stairs he read the message engraved in the large doors. You had to be mad to break into Gringotts, Hagrid had said. But Voldemort had done that not even 24 hours later.

And if you had to hide something very important… Harry swallowed.

“Sir?” He spoke up, making Dumbledore stop and look back at him.

“What is it, Harry?” he asked, frowning when he saw Harry’s wide-eyed look.

“Do you think…” he hesitated, aware that they were in public. He had to make a statement vague enough but somehow get his message across. Dumbledore quickly cottoned on that he couldn’t talk out loud here. “Let’s wait until we are back at Hogwarts, Harry.”

Harry nodded and followed Dumbledore into Gringotts. Walking up to Gringotts he had wondered how Dumbledore and the Goblins would treat each other. He knew Dumbledore had a lot of respect for the other magical races, so he guessed their relationship would be as cordial as it could be.

Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore greeted the goblin at the nearest free counter in Gobbledegook. Harry assumed that this was something that would please the Goblins.

Harry couldn’t understand what they were saying, though the process was smooth. The goblin left and came back with another goblin not a minute later.

This goblin came up to Harry. He bowed, only slightly sarcastically it seemed, toward Dumbledore and squinted menacingly at Harry.

“Mr Potter, I’m Geldgraag, your account manager. May I ask why you are here? You are not yet 17.”

“Hello, Geldgraag, nice to meet you,” Harry said, trying his best to pronounce the “G”s as Geldgraag had. His only reward was a sneer. “I’m aware I’m not yet seventeen,” he answered, and, remembering something Bill had told him and Ron about the Goblin’s sense of humour, he continued, “but as it’s quite likely I won’t live to see my seventeenth with Voldemort around, I thought I’d ask if I could see the vaults anyway.”

Geldgraag didn’t smile but his sneer lessened. Harry considered it a victory.

“I’m sure that isn’t a problem?” Dumbledore inquired politely.

Geldgraag looked up at him and grumbled something in Gobbledegook. Dumbledore said something back. Geldgraag nodded and spoke to Harry again.

“We will have to subtract a fee,” he explained.

“Sure,” Harry said, happy that they managed to convince him. 

A couple of minutes later they sat down in one of the cars.

They took the familiar path to his vault, but instead of stopping they continued, diving deeper and deeper. Harry saw flashes of magic in corridors that shot by. Harry swore he saw something huge move at one point, but before he could discern whether it was a dragon he was distracted by a sudden dousing of water. Looking over his shoulder he saw they had ridden through a waterfall.

With a simple wave of his wand, Dumbledore dried them both and then, speaking up to be heard over the racket made by the cart, he explained: “That was a Goblin invention called ‘Thieves Downfall’, it washes away all enchantments and concealments. It’s an ingenious bit of magic.”

Coming from Dumbledore, that was certainly a huge compliment. Harry couldn’t help but surreptitiously check himself to see if anything had changed. He was glad to see nothing had. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore wave his wand over his blackened one. Because of the darkness and the speed with which they were travelling, he couldn’t tell for sure what Dumbledore had done.

A minute later, with screeching brakes, the cart came to a halt. As they were slowing down, Harry could see multiple vault doors. They were all extensively decorated and often bore crests signalling their ownership.

The vault in front of which they stopped was no different. The name “Potter” was elegantly engraved on the door, in the sort of medieval lettering that Harry associated with monks and monasteries. There were many different plants depicted, probably referencing the Potter family’s history with potion-making.

Geldgraag walked up to the doors and waved Harry over. Dumbledore walked with Harry and spoke up.

“Ah, yes, correct me if I’m wrong, Geldgraag, but these older vaults often used blood keys, didn’t they?"

Geldgraag just sneered at him and removed a small, ceremonial-looking dagger from inside his Gringotss uniform.

“What do I need to do?” Harry asked.

“I will need some of your blood, to key you into the vault,” Geldgraag explained.

“Just a drop will do,” Dumbledore said.

Geldgraag waved his free hand toward the vault door and then toward the dagger. He beckoned Harry over, and when Harry offered his hands, roughly grabbed his hand and pricked his middle finger. The dagger absorbed the blood and began emitting a soft glow.

Geldgraag walked over and put the dagger into a thin hole that Harry hadn’t seen yet.

Then, with the characteristic sound of heavy, old doors that haven’t been opened in a while, the vault opened.

The first thing Harry saw was the mountain of galleons. Just like the first time he had seen the vault he now knew was just a minor vault that was refilled every summer. Then his eye caught the other items in the vault and his heart skipped a beat. Even if he had had some indication of what was in this vault, the sight of what the thought were two chests of drawers and the boxes that he knew held photos and jewellery made his stomach queasy with nerves.

Dumbledore gave him the space to enter on his own. As he set his first step into the vault, magical lights turned on and he saw that he was right. Aside from the huge pile of gold, that dwarfed the pile in his Minor vault, he also saw some mannequins, made to display jewellery. Curious, he stepped close to investigate.

His eye caught a tasteful necklace, housing a dark green stone. Harry knew immediately that his father had bought this necklace for his mother. The stone had the exact same colour as her, and Harry’s, eyes. He tried to picture his mother wearing the necklace, but for some reason, he could only think of Ginny wearing it.

Reaching out, he took it off the mannequin and studied it more closely.

“Goblin-made, that is,” Geldgraag sneered from the entrance, “worth –“

But Harry interrupted him. “I don’t care how much it’s worth.” He put the necklace in a Gringotts bag. It would be a good birthday gift to Ginny, he thought.

Next, he opened up one of the chests and saw it was filled with books. He eagerly made to look at them, which made him think of Hermione. He sighed sadly but continued nonetheless.

Some of the books he already owned. Clearly, the Hogwarts curriculum hadn’t updated much in the past twenty years or so. But there were some advanced transfiguration books, and most interesting to Harry, his father's notebook on the Animagus transformation. He took that one as well, to give to Ron when he was done reading it himself. He flipped through it quickly and chuckled when he saw the doodles in the margins.

Another familiar book was an old copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard, which he decided to leave in the vault. He also took a look at his Mums old copy of Advance Potion-Making but didn’t see anything that caught his eye. Apparently, Lily Evans had been above doodling in schoolbooks.

He turned to the other chest, which when opened, seemed to contain a lot of papers. He shifted through them quickly, but sadly they seemed to be out of order. He found the deed to the house in Godrics Hollow and, digging deeper, some papers that seemed to be about the history of the Potter family.

Thinking it would be interesting to read more about it, he called for Kreacher. The elf popped into existence a mere second later, and with this croaky voice asked, “Master Harry called for Kreacher?”

“Hi, Kreacher. Yes, could you take this chest to Potter House, please? And this necklace as well?” Harry asked, getting the necklace from the bag again.

“Of course, Master,” Kreacher murmured and he popped away again.

Harry and Dumbledore spend the next 10 minutes or so looking through the rest of the vaults. Harry found another stash of photos, this time of his grandparents. As Remus had said, Harry’s grandfather, Fleamont, did indeed have the exact same hair Harry had, even if it was grey in all the photo’s that also featured James. Euphemia’s hair was reddish, but also mostly grey in the photos. Harry took some of the photos with him, to put them in the album that Hagrid had given him after his first year at Hogwarts.

-- In Her Memory --

When Harry and Dumbledore returned to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat down in his chair with a sigh, resting his eyes momentarily. Harry thought he looked tired, really tired. Harry was tired himself too, with all the emotional upheaval he had gone through that day. But, he still had to broach a subject. And he really hoped he was wrong.

“Sir?” he said, after sitting down himself.

Dumbledore sat up, “Yes, Harry, there was something you wanted to tell me?” He waved his wand and a goblet of water and two glasses appeared.

“I was wondering,” Harry began, “do you think Voldemort may be hiding a Horcrux at Gringotts?”

Dumbledore didn’t respond immediately, but Harry could see he was thinking hard about the suggestion.

“I am not sure,” he said slowly, after a minute. “While I do believe that a young Tom Riddle would have envied those with vaults at Gringots, and the idea would certainly suit his egomania, I’m not sure whether he would trust the goblins with a Horcrux.” 

“He trusted Lucius Malfoy with one,” Harry countered.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, stroking his long white beard. When he didn’t say anything more, Harry continued.

“Do you know whether there is a Gaunt vault? Or does he have his own?”

“He does not, of that I’m sure,” Dumbledore said, “I checked with the Goblins after he disappeared 15 years ago. But between the Lestranges, the Averys, the Malfoys, multiple vaults could house one of his Horcruxes if he so chooses.”

“Is there a way for us to know for sure?” Harry wondered.

“Once again, I’m not sure,” Dumbledore confessed. “But you have given me a lot to think about, Harry,” Dumbledore said seriously. “I will see whether I can work something out with Gringotts.”

Chapter Text

Harry clearly had given Dumbledore something to think about, considering he did not see him in the next two weeks. Harry suspected Dumbledore was travelling to Gringotts to speak to the Goblins. At least that’s what he would do in any case.

Apparition classes had started up and the fourth, fifth and sixth years had already come up with many creative variations for the three D’s that instructor Twycross was fond to use. None of Harry’s friends had managed to do much of anything, although they did have fun trying. They all just looked ridiculous, twirling around in their hoops.

February also brought two special days. On the 13^th, it was Luna’s birthday. On the 14^th, it would be Valentine's Day, something Harry was not looking forward to. The number of eyes following him around the castle had not dwindled thus far, and he was afraid of what would happen on the day itself

Because they couldn’t go to Hogsmeade, Dumbledore had decided to throw a special Valentine's banquet. Ron had commented that he was “barking mad”, but Harry thought such an event was perfectly in line with Dumbledore's vision of magic. After all, Dumbledore had said he thought love was one of the strongest forms of magic. And they could all use a little love right now, Harry thought.

This was also why Ginny had decided to throw a party. The student morale was low and could use a boost, and what better way to boost the morale of teenagers than by throwing a party? They could celebrate Valentine’s Day, and Luna's birthday in one go, she had decided.

Harry thought he knew why Ginny had chosen to combine the two. If it was just Luna’s birthday party, not many would show up, except maybe for some girls wanting to impress Harry. But by combining it there would be a lot of people at a party that was thrown partially in Luna’s name. Still, with morale indeed being low, he wondered how many people would show up.

But for some reason, he had forgotten the force of nature that Ginny Weasley could be when she had enough nerve. And really, she never seemed to lack nerve. Harry had no idea how she had done it, but she had gotten permission from both McGonagall and Dumbledore to host the party. Harry hadn’t been there, but he swore that McGonagall seemed a bit teary-eyed in Transfiguration afterwards.

Because McGonagall had become involved, they suddenly had a much wider opportunity of what to do. Harry didn’t actively help in the party planning. He hadn’t ever even stopped to think where the butterbeer came from during their Quidditch parties. So he just sat and listened as Ginny and her dormmates discussed hosting the party in the Great Hall (too big), where to get butterbeer (they would owl Madam Rosmerta), whether to go full out like Lockhart had (Ginny had thrown a cushion at whoever suggested this).

But it was that suggestion that gave Harry an idea for a small prank. After all, he had never gotten Ginny back for her hair-growth shampoo prank, and if she wanted to boost morale, a fun, little prank would fit in nicely. 

So that night, he closed the drapes of his four-poster, cast a sticking charm on them, silenced them, and turned the light as low as he could without losing the ability to write on his parchment. And he just wrote whatever rubbish came up. Honestly, he thought to himself, using “orbs” as a way to describe eyes. I’m even worse at this than I thought. He sniggered to himself, an embarrassed smile on his face because he was secretly enjoying the exercise.

But after a half hour, and a small dive into his trunk, he managed something that he hoped Ginny would think was funny. He thought he had found a great balance between being funny but also truthful, and without being too Valentine-ish. He didn’t want to piss Dean off, of course. And because he was on a roll anyway, he decided to write one for Luna too. But because Luna was who she was, Harry wanted to make it perfectly clear that he meant this in a friendly way only.

Harry had also decided on what to give Luna. Making use of the extremely handy Instant-Letters he had asked the twins to go into Muggle London to look on for a book on cryptozoology. Well, that wasn’t what he told them, because he had no idea how to call whatever Luna was interested in, but he wanted a book on creatures like Nessie and Bigfoot. Between much of the Twins’ banter, they had actually managed to find a book on the subject and they had Owled it to him. While Harry still wasn’t always sure whether Luna was serious when she talked about Kriebis and Dabberblimps, he was quite sure she would enjoy reading the book. Ron had questioned whether it was smart to give Luna more creatures to hunt during holidays, but Harry had decided he was going to be supportive of his friends and her father's hobbies.

While the party on the 14^th was supposed to also be Luna’s birthday party, it soon grew too large to really hold on to that sentiment. It seemed most of the student body was looking for a time to unwind with each other, and most of the professors were supportive of such a cross-house event. Even if, or maybe because, they had no idea that some 7^th and 6^th years, including Dean, Seamus and Lavender, had already conspired to create a safe way to get more potent drinks than just butterbeer. They were all quite aware of the fact that this party was happening to boost morale, so they didn’t want to risk accidentally getting a first-year drunk and having the party get cancelled.

On one hand, Harry was amazed by this supposed maturity, even if Dean and Seamus had been bragging to each other about how drunk they were going to get, but on the other hand, he could understand it as well. A lot of the frivolity, the uncaring nature of the student body that Harry assumed was the norm in regular school years, wasn’t found this year. The news still brought mostly fresh tears, even if people had gotten a bit callous to the constant sorrow. More than once he had heard people whisper to each other that “at least they were muggles”.

As the party had grown a bit larger than expected, Neville, like the silent but great friend Harry knew he was, had proposed a small birthday dinner for Luna in the Hogwarts Kitchens’. Harry had asked Kreacher to bake Luna a cake, and of course, Dobby had made another one. Harry had no idea what Luna like to eat, except for the fact she didn’t eat meat and loved pudding. This proved to be a bit of a problem for Kreacher, who didn’t seem to understand the concept of a meal without meat. Luckily, Luna wasn’t the only one at Hogwarts who didn’t eat meat, so some of the other House Elves did have some recipes.

Because Ginny wasn’t going to make it on time, Harry had been delegated to get Luna from Ravenclaw common room, considering Ron and Neville didn’t know where it was.

As he made his way over to the Ravenclaw he ran into one of their prefects, a girl from Ginny’s year who Harry thought was Alison. She saw him come up and turned to him, in a way Harry thought, like she was trying to strike a pose.  

“Hello, Harry,” she said with a slight purr. Harry was disctinly reminded of Romilda Vane and knew the two hung out often.

“Hi, Alison, could I ask you something?” Harry said politely.

“You can ask me anything, Harry,” Alison responded, pushing her hair behind her ear with a practised motion. She didn’t even sound like she was putting it on, Harry thought she genuinely would be helpful if he had to ask her something.

“Could you get Luna for me if she’s there?”

“Loon-a?” Alison asked in surprise, only just in time managing to pronounce an “a” instead of the “y”. “Whatever for?” she continued.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. He remembered that Luna hadn’t responded particularly positively to Ron’s announcement back on the train that Alison would be Prefect.

“Well,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at her, “first of all, that’s none of your business, but if you insist I just want to talk to my friend for a minute.”

To her credit Alison didn’t miss a beat, and smiled at him. “Of course, Harry,” let me just check whether she’s in. She tends to wander around, you know,” she said. The Eagler doorknocker muttered something to her, to which she responded, “a puzzle,” and the door opened.

Five minutes or so later, the door opened again and Luna came out. She was frowning but smiled upon seeing Harry.

“Hello, Harry Potter, why are you here?”

“Hi Luna,” Harry said easily, “first of all, happy birthday!” He made a move to hug her, but she was too far away and he just awkwardly stepped forward a bit. Luna seemed not to have noticed.

“Oh, thank you, Harry! I don’t usually get many birthday wishes!”

“Well, we can remedy that, I’m actually here to invite you to a private birthday dinner with Neville, Ron, and Ginny. We’re eating in the kitchens.”

Luna beamed at him. “That sounds so fun!” she said, as she skipped forward and with twinkling eyes said, “Shall we?” and offered her arm.

It was this kind of effortless joy that Luna sometimes radiated that amazed Harry. Some might describe it as spacy, as being ignorant of the greater picture, but Harry was actually quite jealous of her seemingly carefree nature. The two were counter-opposite in that regard, but rather than Harry dragging her down, she mostly lifted him up with her.

So, he put his arm through hers and guided them toward the kitchens.

When they arrived, Ginny had arrived as well, and she somehow had found the time to actually decorate a bit. Colourful pieces of paper was hanging from the ceiling, and Harry spotted at least one beaming House-Elf, which answered how Ginny had managed it.

Ginny, Ron and Neville, all called out birthday greetings to Luna as they came in. Harry was glad to hear Ron participate. He had noticed his friend doing a bit better. Something like a birthday party would have probably set him off before, but he seemed to understand now that they needed to just live sometimes too. That’s what they were fighting for in the end.

Ginny and Luna hugged, as did she and Neville. Ron just awkwardly shook her hand and Harry smiled to himself. It really was amazing how much more comfortable and confident Neville had become since the summer.

“Now!” Ginny said, “We’re all eating vegetarian in your honor, and we’ve made sure there’s pudding for afters. Do you want your present now or after the meal?”

Luna smiled at Ginny and then cocked her head to the side, thinking about it. “I think I’d like to open present first. I wouldn’t want to spoil the Elves delicious dinner by being distracted by all the possibilities of what you might give me.”

So it was said, and so it was done. Neville gave Luna a small cutting of Moondew. He would explain later to Harry in private, that the gift was kind of a double entendre. The “moon” part cleary was in reference to Luna’s name, but the plant was also rumored to be used in extra-sweet butterbeer and Neville knew how Luna handled her alcohol. They had a good chuckled at that.

From Ron, Luna received, as Harry could have expected, chocolate frogs.

Luna was most delighted by the book Harry had gotten her, and immediately began reading it, resulting in Ginny having to remind her that she said she didn’t want to be distracted from the dinner. Ginny herself didn’t gave Luna a gift but whispered something in her ear instead. Luna just smiled and nodded at her. Harry was curious what she had said but shrugged. It was between them, of course.

The meal progressed without in good company until Luna remarked that she wondered why Hermione hadn’t been vegetarian. As she argued, for someone clearly so concerned about the rights of non-magical people, she really did overlook a huge part of what was living by eating meat.

If not for the non-combatative way Luna said this, Ron might have said something. But Luna was clearly just curious and didn’t really blame Hermione for her eating habits.

And Harry wasn’t surprised that discussing Hermione still hurt, even though the sting wasn’t as deep as it had been. He was quite sure that wound would never heal, quite sure he didn’t want it to really heal. Hermione had been such a crucial part of his magical life, of their lives. He knew Ron still struggled with it as well, they all did.

So, as the birthday dinner drew to a close, Harry chose to speak up.

“I just want to say something,” he said hesitatingly, “now the five of us are together here like this.”

He took a drink of his butterbeer to soothe his suddenly parched throat.

“Thank you for being… well, you know, thank you for being friends. If there’s anything I’ve learned last year is that you never know…” he trailed of, not quite sure what he was trying to say. “I just want you all to know that I appreciate you, that I appreciated you having my back, and I hope to repay you all someday. And you know…” he trailed off again. He wanted them to know how much they meant to him but he didn’t know how to say it.

“We understand, Harry,” Ginny said, with a smile. Luna smiled at him as Neville gave him a manly clap on the shoulder. Ron just nodded at him.

The five of them spend another hour just having fun before breaking up for bed. Considering the next day’s party, they all decided sleep was necessary.

-- In Her Memory --

The next morning, Valentine's Day, Harry began regretting his decision to prank Ginny with the poem and send Luna one as well. Even though he thought it was perfectly okay to send Valentine’s cards to friends, he knew as well that most of the Hogwarts student body would not see it as such. Even though Skeeter hadn’t written a follow-up article, the question of who would be “the-girl-he-lives-with” was still a heavily discussed topic in the girls' bathrooms. At least, that’s what Ginny told him.

The Gryffindor boys made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, unsurprised to see most of the girl population already there. Harry took the time to scan the Slytherin table, wanting to see what Pansy was up to. Would she be expecting a Valentine’s from Draco? Was he even in a position to send one? He shook his head and focused on a more acute occurrence: the incoming owl post. Post that was sent between Hogwarts students usually wasn’t sent by owls. You would either ask someone you trusted to deliver a message, or you just told them face to face. Only those in the know knew they could ask the House Elves to deliver messages as well.

Harry had chosen the latter way. A decision he would soon regret.

Because as the Owls came in and the first squeals were heard, Harry, to his horror, heard a highly energetic, high pitched voice coming from the Ravenclaw table. It sound suspiciously like… Dobby!

Harry panicked slightly. He had not given the messages to Dobby on purpose, because he knew that might be trouble. Before Harry could do anything he heard the Elf say: “Good morning, Miss Loony! Happy Valentine’s Day! Dobby is so excited to be giving you Harry Potter’s message!”

Luckily, Dobby didn’t read the poem out loud, possibly sparing Luna the embarrassment Harry had suffered when that dwarf had cornered him in his second year. But as Harry realized, Luna probably wouldn’t feel embarrassed at all. Harry couldn’t see Luna from where he was sitting, mostly because he was hiding behind a small mountain of overly sweet, heart-shaped breakfast muffins.

Then Dobby popped over to Ginny, who was sitting only a couple of seats away. Harry gave Dobby a meaningful shake of his head, with wide eyes, and luckily Dobby seemed to understand as he just handed Ginny the pink envelope (which Harry had not used) before popping away to deliver other messages.

From where Harry was sitting he had a clear view of Dean and Ginny.

Ginny looked at Dean in surprise, but as Dean looked as surprised, she scowled and opened up the poem. Harry thought she probably thought it was from a secret admirer. Even though she was with Dean, Ginny had complained some boy had still come up to her to ask her out

Harry looked on as Ginny quickly read through the poem, before laughing out loud. She looked around spotted him, and immediately threw a breakfast muffin at him.

“Potter! You arsehole!” she said, while still laughing. Harry laughed in return, and joked “What are you talking about Ginny?”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about Potter! Who else but you could have sent me this load of rubbish?” she asked with an arched eyebrows and a twinkle in her eye.

“Rubbish?!” Harry responed, in mock afront. “I spent a good 10 minutes on that card, if you must know! I even dove deep into my memory to get inspiration from someone else!”

“As if I hadn’t noticed!” Ginny said, turning the slightest bit of pink.

By now the other Gryffindors were all trying to read the card that Ginny still held in her hand. Ever the great friend to Dean he was, Seamus managed to steal if from her hand and he read it out loud, all the while dodging Ginny’s attempts to grab the poem.

With great emphatics and the drama of an actor, he spoke up:

Her eyes are the colour of chocolate
Her personality can’t be ignored
Her hair is like fire, she sparks much desire
A hero who conquered the  Dark Lord

Seamus had begun speaking in a jovial tone, but as he read the last line he turned serious and frowned. “Conquered the Dark Lord?” he questioned, “What does that mean?”

Ginny looked at Harry with wide-eyes and Harry was quick to respond. “Oh, that’s just in reference to her being at the Ministery last June,” he explained, waving a hand about. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

They all seemed to accept this, even though Ron looked at him curiously.

Then, Luna approached their table.

She smiled at Harry, but didn’t really look at him. She instead focused her gaze on the back of Ginny’s head, and then hugged her from behind, whispering something in her ear. Ginny looked at her and nodded.

Luna then stood up and looked toward Harry. She wasn’t looking at him, but rather vaguely somewhere over his right shoulder. “Thank you, Harry, it means a lot. I’ve never had a Valentine’s Card before!” She smiled at him, and again Harry had no choice but to smile back at her.

“And yes, I’m sure I’m just a regular human, sadly,” Luna said with a pout, responding to the last line of the poem Harry had written.

Harry chuckled, “Care to join us for breakfast, Luna?”

“Gladly!” Luna said and she plopped down between Neville and Lavender. The latter asked whether she could see what Harry had written Luna.

Harry wanted to protest, but Luna had already given her the card. Lavender showed it to Parvati as well, and as their eyes moves across the last line they looked at Harry and told him that it was cute. Again, Seamus was there to steal the card. This time he looked at Harry for permission. Harry rolled his eyes but shrugged. He might be a private person, but these cards weren’t truly valentines card. He had written them on a lark, for the two girls in his life that had helped him so much in the past, and especially this year. 

So, there Seamus went again:

                Your silvery-blue holds such mysteries,
                Seemingly from somewhere far away.
                You’re carelessly free, like I could never be,
                Are you sure you’re not fae?

Ginny gave a sarcastic applause and Neville and Seamus shared a gaze that could only mean a lot of good-nature ribbing in Harry’s future. Lavender, Parvati and Sophie looked at him like he was a puppy dog.

But not all was well. Dean was scowling at him. The sound of cutlery hitting a plate heralded Lily walking away from the table, also scowling. Harry thought maybe he should explain to both of them.

So after Herbology, Harry and Ron made their way back to the Gryffindor common room. All the sixth years had Friday afternoons off, so he knew both Lily and Dean would be there.

He spotted Lily and Sophie immediately, as Lily was working on her Charms project. He approached the table. Sophie looked up and Harry thought he saw something of approval on her face. She bumped Lily on the shoulder, who jumped slightly and looked up.

“Oh,” she said, “Hi, Harry,” she said. Her voice didn’t sound as clipped as he might have expected.

“Can I sit? I wanted to talk with you,” he asked. Lily shrugged and looked at Sophie. Harry wasn’t sure whether Lily wanted her to go or stay. Sophie didn’t move and grinned at Harry when he sat down.

“Er, so,” Harry started hesitatingly. Lily looked at him patiently and Sophie had put her hand over her mouth. Harry suspected she was hiding a smile, she was clearly enjoying this.

“I just wanted you to know, that what I send Luna was just because she’s a dear friend to me,” Harry said.

“Okay,” Lily said, “why did you want me to know?”

Harry looked at her in puzzlement, wasn’t it obvous? “Well, because I don’t want you to think I lied to you when I took Luna to the Christmas party. I only like her as a friend.”

“Oh!” Lily said in surprise, “that actually makes sense.” Sophie smirked lightly at him, and Harry had no idea how to translate it.

“What did you think I was going to say?” Harry said in surprise.

“Oh,” Lily said, looking at her radio cassette player, “I thought you thought I would be angry for giving a valentine’s card to my ex-girlfriend.”

“Well…” Harry trailed off because that wasn’t untrue at all.

“But she’s been my ex for like six weeks, why would I still be bothered?” Lily continued.

Isn’t that how girls work? Harry thought fleetingly, but he wisely decided against saying that out loud. But that sentiment was probably readable in his expression because then Sophie spoke up.

“Luna isn’t the first short-term girlfriend Lily has had,” Sophie explained, “even if most of them have been muggle summer-flings. She has been through this before.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, okay.” Then because he felt like he couldn’t just walk away, he pointed at the radio cassette player. “How’s your charm project coming on?”

Lily brightened up when she began explaining, “I managed to get it to turn on and play, but there’s no sound yet. I know it’s playing because the thingies are turning, see,” she pointed at the cassette that was clearly being unwinded. She then went into the specifics of the charms she had used, combined with a thorough understanding of how electricity worked.

Harry, however, had no idea what she was talking about. He might have grown up muggle, but he knew next to nothing about science. How could he? The only thing he understood is that it seemed to be the case that every individual apparatus that used electricity had to have a tailor made permanent shielding charm. And that Lily couldn’t be sure whether the charm she was developing would work outside Hogwarts or whether she would have to develop one for every new magical location she wanted to listen to music.

Thoroughly confused because of Lily’s explanation of how electricity worked, Harry made his way up to his dorms. Dean wasn’t there so he just shrugged and made his way downstairs again. He still had plenty of homework to do, as always.

-- In Her Memory --

A couple of hours later, Harry was nursing a butterbeer while leaning against a wall in a crowded Great Hall. The place was delicately dressed up. They had clearly learned what not to do from Lockhart. There were pink elements, sure, but not to a nauseating extent. Some of the House Elves had volunteered and were serving as bartenders. This was a great idea because the Elves would make sure the drinks couldn’t be spiked, thwarting whatever plan Seamus and his co-conspirators had come up with. Instead, most of the 7^th years and a fair few 6^th years were walking around with an assortment of liqueur in pockets and bags.

Almost all of the 4^th years and up were present, and also many of the younger students. Harry had seen Mia walking around with her groups of friends. He had done much observing that night. Something about calmly observing his peers letting loose made him feel good. At Slughorn’s Christmas party, he had let loose for a couple of minutes as well, and he had enjoyed it. But, as he had no interest in some of the other activities pursued by his peers, he was content to just watch them mingle.

Like at the Quidditch party, Seamus had taken it upon himself to be a wingman for Neville. Neville looked less comfortable than he had been at that party, but still mostly looked like he was just indulging Seamus. And if Neville and Seamus were together, that probably meant Dean was with Ginny, Harry thought.

But no, Ginny was over there with her dormmates. Harry shrugged and looked at Ron who was standing beside him. His friend was doing much the same as he was, just quietly observing it all. Harry thought he could guess what he was thinking about. So, he decided to distract him.

“So, Ron, how’s the animagus coming on?”

Ron came out his revery and sighed, “It’s coming, but very slowly. McGonagall keeps mentioning I’ll know when it is time to try, but I think she’s overestimating me.”

“Your transfiguration skills or your capability to self-reflect?” Harry asked curiously.

Ron snorted, “Both probably.”

Harry made a contemplative noise, “At least you can work on it,” he said, a whiny note coming through

Ron caught on to it, “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said with a scoff and joke, making it clear he was joking, “Am I not supposed to be able to do something the “Great Harry Potter” can’t?”

Harry laughed, “I’m sure there are many things you can do, that I can’t, Ron.”

This time it was Ron that made the contemplative noise.

“Want another?” Harry said, gesturing his butterbeer to Ron’s empty bottle.

“Sure,” he said. Together they walked to one of the House-Elves. When they came closer they were surprised to see it was Kreacher.

“Kreacher!” Harry said in surprise, “are you bartending tonight?”

“Master Harry!” Kreacher croaked, and he bowed deeply. “Yes, Kreacher is. What can Kreacher do for you, master?”

Some of the people around them were looking at Kreacher curiously.

“Oh, could I get two butterbeers, please?” Harry said.

“Of course, right away, master,” Kreacher said, and he snapped his fingers making two bottles of butterbeer pop into existence. Harry grabbed one and handed Ron the other one.

“He really has changed a lot, hasn’t he?” Ron remarked as they made their way back to their wall.

“He has, ever since I gave him that ring, even before that actually,” Harry said.

“Probably does him good to be out of that house,” Ron said.

“That would do anybody good,” Harry said darkly, thinking about Sirius.

As if summoned by this darkened mood, there Luna was.

“Hello, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,” she said in chipper tones.

“Oh, hi Luna,” they said. “How are you enjoying the party?” Harry asked.

“It’s fine,” Luna said, “but there really are a lot of nargles about, the Headmaster should really do something about it.”

“How’s that possible?” Harry said, “There’s so much butterbeer being drunk, shouldn’t the corks keep them away?”

Both Luna and Ron looked at him with open mouths and Harry felt himself turn red. “What?” he asked.

“How do you know that?” Luna questioned.

“You told me, remember?” Harry explained, “Last year, I think.”

“I did?” Luna said, cocking her head to the side. “Why do you remember?”

Harry looked at Ron for help, but the traitor was biting his lip in laughter and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You say a lot of memorable things,” Harry said.

Luna frowned. “Okay,” she said, smiling faintly, before turning around and walking away again, her shoulders sagging dejectedly.

“What did I say?” Harry questioned aloud.

Ron shrugged, “She’s barmy mate, you know that.”

“Don’t say that, Ron,” Harry admonished. “She’s just, just Luna.”

An hour later, and at least four unwanted advances later, Harry was talking to Seamus, Neville and Ron, when Ron asked, “So where’s Dean at? I haven’t seen him at all this evening.”

They all frowned at each other.

“I saw Ginny like twenty minutes ago,” Neville said, “so we can rule out the broom closets.” Ron smacked him across the shoulder, making Neville laugh.

“When I left the common room he was still there,” Seamus explained, “he was in a bad mood, didn’t know whether he wanted to come actually.”

“What happened?” Neville asked.

Seamus shrugged but looked at Harry meaningfully.

Great, Harry thought, I knew I shouldn’t have written those stupid cards.

Then, Luna appeared at Harry’s elbow, pulling on his shirt to get his attention.

“What’s up, Luna?” he said curiously, and Luna just pointed behind them.

They all turned around to see what she was pointing at and saw Dean Thomas snogging like his life depended on it.

Before Ron could even utter a groan, Dean and his snogging partner turned around and… it wasn’t Ginny! Instead of the expected red hair, she had black hair, and she also was a bit taller than Ginny.

When the two finally came up for air, Harry finally recognized the girl as… Romilda Vane!.

“Luna, do you know where Ginny is?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes, she’s over there,” Luna said, pointing to the other side of the room, where she was talking with her dormmates.

“Let’s go,” he said and walked over to her, Ron, Luna and Neville following behind him.

As he approached he saw that Ginny, was frowning a bit, but was seemingly still calm.

But before he could ask her anything, Luna beat him to it.

“Hello, Ginny, when did you break up with Dean?”

“I – what?” Ginny said flabbergasted, then she smiled at her friend. “I never can keep a secret from you, can I?” Luna just beamed at her and leaned in for a hug, which Ginny gladly reciprocated.

“So, you broke up with him?” Ron said roughly, “I don’t have to hex him?”

“No,” Ginny said hotly, “and I’m perfectly capable of hexing him myself, thank you very much.”

“Have you seen what he’s doing, Ginny?” Neville asked hesitatingly, pointing over his shoulder.

Ginny leaned over, to watch past Neville and grimaced. “Oh, that. I have absolutely no idea what he’s playing at.”

They all turned around to look at Dean and Romilda. They weren’t snogging at the moment, but Dean looked more than a bit drunk. He had a dopey smile and looked at Romilda with unfocused eyes. Romilda was smirking in their direction.

“You probably broke his heart and he is trying to heal it,” Luna said vaguely.

“By sucking Vane’s face off?” one of Ginny’s dorm mates questioned with disgust. Harry thought her name was Dawn.

Ginny chuckled, “I’m quite sure I didn’t break his heart, Luna,”

Luna just stared at her and looked back over to Dean, her brows furrowed. Harry leaned in toward her. “Luna?” he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“There are too many Wrackspurts on Dean and Romilda has been attracting too many Aemulors,” she murmured.

“And that’s bad?” Harry guessed.

Luna turned her head and looked at him with the frown still on her face. She looked Harry directly in the eyes, something she didn’t do often, and when her eyes conveyed she was worried, Harry felt the compulsion to do whatever she was going to ask.

“Harry, please check up on Dean tomorrow morning,” she asked.

Harry just nodded and Luna smiled brightly at him.

He looked up and saw Ginny smiling at them. She walked over to the both of them.

“Luna, did you tell Harry about the newest edition of the Quibbler?” she asked Luna.

“Oh!” Luna exclaimed happy, clapping her hands together in excitement. Harry spotted Ron and Neville sharing amused looks. “Daddy finished his piece on Tom Riddle! It’s going to be published next month! I’ll be sure to get you an edition if you want.”

“That’d be great, Luna,” Harry said half-heartedly, shooting a concerned look to the others.

“Yes, apparently Professor Dumbledore visited Daddy to try to convince him not to publish it,” Luna said, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t understand why the Headmaster wanted to censor such an important piece,” she said sadly.

“Because it’s dangerous to publish stuff like this,” Neville said.

Luna turned to him and scoffed. “Why? The ministry never did anything when we exposed Fudge’s ambition to take over Gringotts.”

Well, Harry thought, that’s because that wasn’t true. Even with every other stupid thing the Ministry had done over the last years that Harry knew off, this particular theory hadn’t happened. And he knew everyone was thinking it, but nobody wanted to tell Luna they thought most of the Quibbler’s stories were rubbish.

So Neville just shrugged and looked away. Luna looked at him in confusion but was distracted by Ginny, who clapped her hands together.

“Alright, you lot, enough of this talking and standing around, let’s dance!”

This kind of dancing was completely different from what Harry and Luna had done at the Christmas party. For one, they were now dancing in a group, a larger group even. Because some of Ginny dorm mates had joined as well, Seamus had joined them as well. Harry tried to catch his eye to talk with him about Dean but Seamus was too busy showing off his non-existent dance moves.

Luna still didn’t care about adhering to any form of rhythm, at least none that Harry could hear in the music. Ginny had grabbed Ron, forcing him to move rather than stand still with his hands in his pockets. Neville was moving on his own. He was turning from left to right, and slightly bouncing up and down, alternately moving his arms like the driving wheel of the Hogwarts Express.

This left Harry on his own. He just moved slightly back and forth in time with the music, but he found it harder to enjoy himself like he had at the Christmas party.

Deciding he needed another drink, he made his way over to Kreacher, who he could see was still bartending.

Harry shook his head at the absurdity of that observation.

“Hi, Kreacher,” he greeted. The Elf turned around and when he saw it was Harry, he bowed slightly.

“Good evening, Master,” he croaked, “What would Master Harry like to drink?”

“Aren’t you only serving butterbeer?” Harry asked in surprise. He knew that many older students had brought their own alcohol as well, but the Elves were only supposed to serve Butterbeer.

“The Hogwarts House Elves are only supposed to serve butterbeer, Master,” Kreacher answered. Harry didn’t miss the stress on Kreacher had placed on “Hogwarts”, taking it to mean that, as Kreacher wasn’t actually working for Hogwarts, Harry could probably overrule those directions.

Feeling like a bit of mischief, he raised an eyebrow, “And what else could you get me, Kreacher?”

“Most anything, Master.”

Truth was, Harry really didn’t know much about alcohol besides Firewhiskey, Butterbeer and that one liquor Dobby had put into Ron’s and his warm chocolate.

He sighed, “Just a butterbeer, Kreacher, thanks.” It was probably smarter to keep his wits about him in any case. It wouldn’t make sense to have Dumbledore ask him to keep his invisibility cloak on him at all times, for safety, and then get drunk.

Kreacher obliged with a smile and Harry walked back to the group. He chuckled as Luna eyed his butterbeer with great interest and he leaned in to say: “How many have you had tonight?”

“Not enough!” Luna giggled and Harry was glad to see she was speaking the truth. Clearly, Ginny had been keeping an eye on her. So he felt no qualms about giving her a sip or two. Or three.

An hour or two later, Harry, Neville and Seamus made their way back to their dorm room. Ron had gone to bed earlier. None of them had seen Dean after they had spotted him with Romilda Vane but they could hear him snoring from his four poster.

Harry yawned as he prepared himself for bed. He walked over to his four-poster, moved the opened pack of Chocolate Cauldrons from his bed, and climbed in. He was tired, and happy, enough to not even think about what nightmares might plague him that night.

Chapter Text

“… Vane?!” was the first thing Harry heard when he jerked awake the next morning. It seemed Dean and Ron were in some sort of argument. Harry quickly opened up his curtains and peeked out, simultaneously reaching for his glasses.

“I just wanted to know,” Ron said through gritted teeth, “why you decided sucking Romlida Vane’s face off was a good way to get my sister back.”

“And I said,” Dean responded back, as angry as Ron, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember?” Seamus’ voice came from his bed, and Harry saw his head pop out of his curtains.

“Don’t remember what?” Dean asked, turning around to look at his friend.

“Snogging Romilda Vane!” Seamus and Ron said together.

“I… - what? I…” Dean said, and Harry could see that something dawned. Dean’s eyes grew wide and he looked shocked, or… scared?

“I… I don’t remember anything!” he whispered.

Seamus laughed, “Well, that’s what you get when you drink too much, my friend.” He rolled out of bed to give Dean a high-five, but Dean didn’t respond.

“The last thing I remember…” Dean said, and his eyes moved over to Harry before looking away in shame.

Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed and made to stand up. His left foot, however, made contact with something sticky and he looked down curiously at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons his foot was now covered in.

The box of Chocolate Cauldrons that Harry had gotten from Romilda Vane. The girl Ginny had warned him about. Who was rumoured to be looking to dose Harry with Love Potion.

“Fuck!” he swore loudly.

Harry stood up quickly and hurriedly asked Dean, “Dean! Did you eat one of my chocolate cauldrons?”

“I – what? No, of course not,” Dean tried to lie, but Harry interrupted him. “Dean, I don’t care about the cauldron, but I’m almost positive that Romilda dosed them with Love Potion!”

“But… Love Potion?” Dean said like he didn’t understand.

“Would that explain the memory loss?” Neville asked as he joined the other boys.

“Love Potions don’t cause memory loss,” Seamus answered, shaking his head.

“But I got these for Christmas, maybe it went bad or something?” Harry argued.

None of the boys knew the answer to that.

“Is there a way, a safe one that is, to test whether there’s Love Potion in there?” Neville asked, eying Dean carefully. Dean seemed to slowly be overcoming his shock and was beginning to get angry, but this time at Romilda.

“I’ll take them to Professor Tonks,” Harry offered. He quickly dressed himself, grabbed the Cauldrons and made his way to the door. Before he could leave, Seamus stopped him.

 “Be quick, I don’t know how long we can keep him from confronting Vane, or at least making a scene,” he urged, looking warily at his best friend. Harry nodded.

As he ran towards Professors Tonks’ private quarters, Harry wondered whether she would even be there. It was Valentine’s weekend, so she might be at home with Ted.

This turned out to not be the case, as when the door opened after Harry knocked on it, he wasn’t greeted by the woman he had gotten to know as Aunt Andy, but by a fair-haired, jovial-looking man that could only be Ted Tonks.

 “Hello, can I help you?” Ted said in a puzzled voice.

“Hi!” Harry said, secretly glad he had been training with Neville as he wasn’t much out of breath from running all the way, “You must be Ted Tonks? My name is Harry Potter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Ted beamed at him. “Harry! How nice indeed! Please, come in.”

Harry entered the room and saw Andy at her table, eating a leisurely breakfast. She frowned as she saw him. “Harry, dear, is everything alright?”

Harry had a small flashback to Mrs Weasley, the only other person that had ever used that term of endearment in that way. He nodded and swallowed.

“Fine. I just wanted to know whether you can somehow determine whether these cauldrons have been dosed with anything.”

“Why? What happened?” Andy said, standing up quickly.

“I’m quite sure there’s Love Potion in there, I think my roommate Dean got accidentally dosed last night,” Harry explained.

Andy and Ted shared a look.

“Give me five minutes and we’ll know,” Andy answered, as she began to rummage in her Potions cupboard.

“Are these his? Your roommate’s? You said he got dosed ‘accidentally’?” Ted asked.

“No, sir. They’re mine. I got them from Christmas, they’ve been under my bed since then.”

“So you got them as a gift?” Ted asked.

Harry nodded, “Why does it matter, sir?” he asked curiously.

“The use of Love Potions is legal, but only with explicit consent from both the subject and object of its magic,” Ted explained. At Harry’s puzzled look, he elaborated: “Love Potions are legal as long as there is consent involved, given by both the one taking the potion and the object of their magically induced or enhanced desire. They used to be legal in general, but we passed a law some ten years ago that makes it so that Love Potions are only legal when they are consensually used to er… spice up a couple’s love life so to say.”

Harry turned a bit red and Ted chuckled.

“Ted works as a liaison between the Ministry and St Mungo’s on the topic of Potions and Charms Abuse,” Andy explained fondly. “He was one of the driving forces behind the law change. Ah, there we go,” Andy finished waving her wand.

“Now, if you could drop a Chocolate Cauldron in this cauldron, Harry,” she asked.

Harry looked on as the colourless potion Andy had brewed slowly turned green as the Chocolate Cauldron dissolved.

“Green means positive, which means that the Cauldron was indeed dosed with Love Potion,” Andy explained with a frown. She turned to her husband, “I think it’s best if you went to get Minerva as well, Ted.”

Ted nodded and quickly made his way back to the bedroom area to dress.

“I think it’s best if you go with Ted, Harry, so you can explain to Professor McGonagall what has happened. Who gave you the Chocolate Cauldrons, Harry?”

“Romilda Vane.”  

“And Dean ate one without knowing?” Andy clarified.

Harry nodded, “ when I left the dorm room he was beginning to get angry.”

“Understandable, wouldn’t you say?” Ted said, entering the room again. “The cases I’ve seen…” he muttered. “Come along, Harry, please,” he said.

Together they made their way over to the Great Hall, where breakfast was being served.

They walked up to their head table, making many heads spin to look at them. Dumbledore wasn’t there, again, so they went straight to McGonagall.

“Ted?” she said in surprise, “Mr Potter? What on earth?”

“Good morning, Minerva,” Ted began, “it seems your Gryffindors have encountered a bit of an incident involving a Love Potion,” he explained in soft tones, not wanting to be overheard.

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes, “I see,” was all she said before standing up.

The three of them walked out of the Great Hall. As soon as they were out of hearing distance McGonagall asked Harry to explain what happened, which he did.

“So, the Love Potion was meant for you?” McGonagall asked.

“Yes, Romilda gave me these Cauldrons for Christmas.”

“And Professor Tonks tested them?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, thank you, Mr Potter.”

A brisk walk later they made their way through the portrait hole, to see Dean standing at the beginning of the staircase to the Girl’s side of the common room. The staircase currently resembled a slide, meaning Dean had tried to get up there.

“Mr Thomas!” McGonagall called loudly.

Dean turned around. “Professor, I – Professor?” He looked at Ted questioningly. Ted for his part made his way to him and offered his hand for Dean to shake.

“Hello Mr Thomas, my name is Ted Tonks. I work with the Ministry of Magic in the Regulation and Control of Dangerous Potions office. I understand you may have been unknowingly dosed with Love Potion.”

“I, what? So it was Love Potion? I’ll kill that bitch!” Dean yelled.

“Mr Thomas!” McGonagall said sternly. “I understand you are upset and angry, but let us not do away with our sense of civility!”

Dean didn’t respond but none of his anger had abated.

“Now, Mr Thomas, I suggest you and Mr Tonks head to my office. I’ll see if I can locate Miss Vane,” McGonagall ordered rather than suggested.

As Dean made his way out of the common room, McGonagall turned to Harry.

“Mr Potter, the next time you suspect someone is trying to dose you with whatever, please come to me. I don’t think I have to remind you what happened the last time someone in Hogwarts unwittingly was dosed with something.”

Slughorn. Sure, this wasn’t even close to being the same kind of case but it could’ve been Draught of Living Death rather than Love Potion in that cauldron.

-- In Her Memory –

In the end, even though she had broken the law, Romilda wasn’t arrested. Because of the war, the ministry deemed it safer for her to stay at Hogwarts. She did get a lot of detention, and a suitably embarrassing howler. The student population, fourth year and above, got a mandatory lecture on the dangers of Love Potions, given by Ted Tonks.

Dean had gone back and forth with his emotions. He was understandably angry at Romilda, but also angry at himself because, according to him it was his pettiness that had gotten him in trouble indirectly. After a couple of days, he had come clean on eating the Chocolate Cauldron because he had been mad at Harry. He didn’t blame Harry for his and Ginny’s breakup, as it had been relatively friendly if such a thing was possible, but said the article in Witch Weekly had messed with his head.

Ginny herself had been in the weird position of wanting to help Dean deal with the incident, while simultaneously feeling the need to stay away from him for a bit as they had just split. 

In the end, no one could say they were surprised that a large-scale Valentine’s party had stirred up trouble. And with how used the Hogwarts population was to things going wrong, they quickly went back to business as usual.

For Harry and Ron, this meant they were back to their usual schedule. Ron was now back on track and doing everything he had been doing before his burnout. But on Ginny’s orders, they both made sure to at least have half an evening left open for fun. Ron had continued his Animagus training and while he said he wasn’t even close to being able to transform, McGonagall had apparently given a rare compliment. The increased skill in Transfiguration had shown in class as well, as Ron was now clearly getting better at it than Harry. Of course, Harry had put his Animagus training on the back burner, seeing as he probably would never be able to finish it. Or so he sometimes feared, when alone in bed at night.

Harry had realized that the high work pace he had set himself had the added benefit of giving him no time to think about everything that could go wrong. But late at night in bed, doubts and fears crept into his mind anyway. And when he did manage to fall asleep, he was still plagued by nightmares. The only things he knew could stop them were either highly addictive or something he just couldn’t get to work.

Someone he could talk to about his nightmares was Ginny. Ever since Harry had told her about the plan to back into the Chamber to look for clues and to help Luna, he noticed she looked like she was sleeping badly. He figured the idea alone had increased her nightmares.

Which is why he was so amazed when she told him she wanted to join them. He could tell it took a lot of strength to do so, but she got that blazing look in her eyes and just like with quidditch, she managed to turn her nerves into determination.

The next time Harry had seen Dumbledore he had told her that Ginny was coming too and they had planned their venture for the third Saturday of March. This was because it was Ron’s birthday the first weekend and the Quidditch game against Hufflepuff during the second weekend.

The other huge news broke on Friday, the last day of February. Harry had just swallowed a spoon of his porridge, going over what they were going to focus on in their upcoming Defense self-study session, when an unknown owl landed in front of him, carrying a Quibbler.

“I asked Daddy to send you a free copy,” Luna’s dreamy voice came from behind him.

Harry turned around, “So the article’s been published then?”

Luna beamed at him.

Harry took a deep breath and opened up the magazine, flipping past an article on Blimpy fishing to get to the article.

There it was.

Naming He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Last year The Quibbler was the first news publication to tell the truth about the fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had indeed returned. The harrowing eyewitness account given to us by nonother than Harry Potter himself may have been the single most important article we have ever published.

Until today that is.

We all know who You-Know-Who claims to be. And with a name feared so much even this newspaper prefers to stick to the references you have seen printed before you, there is no reason to doubt any of his claims.

OR IS THERE?

After weeks of research, The Quibbler can now exclusively reveal that He-Who-Must-Be-Named is actually a Half-Blood wizard who was born to the name Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Tom Riddle was born in an orphanage in London on the 31^st of December 1926. His father, Tom Riddle Senior, was a wealthy Muggle living in the village of Little Hangleton. Also living in that village was the last of the Noble and Ancient House of Gaunt. Part of the so-called Sacred 28, the Gaunt family claimed to be the last living descendants of Salazar Slytherin.

The connection between Tom “Marvolo” Riddle and Marvolo Gaunt is easily made, and it was Marvolo Gaunt’s daughter Merope who would have to be Tom Riddle’s Jr’s mother. Viewers with a more conservative approach to these types of questions, might wonder why the daughter of such a prestigious family would fall in love with a “common muggle”.

THINK AGAIN!

According to the elderly muggle inhabitants of Little Hangleton, that view is the exact opposite of reality. They still remember the town questioning why the Heir of the Riddle Family would ever mingle with “the Tramp’s daughter”. See, the “Noble” family of Gaunt lived in squalor, Marvolo Gaunt and his son Morfin coming into contact with the MLE time and time again.

Whatever happened between Tom Riddle Senior and Merope Gaunt, it didn’t last long. Mere months after leaving everything behind to go with Merope, he returned to Little Hangleton with tales of being “taken in” and “hoodwinked”.

Long-time readers of the Quibbler will undoubtedly suspect the use of Love Potions.

Supporters of Love Potion prohibition have long argued that these potions interfere with the natural magic that is love, and that would one procreate under the effects of solely these potions, any resulting child would suffer from unquestionable emotional damage. This might very well explain the vile nature of the man Tom Riddle Jr would grow up to be.

Those readers that attended Hogwarts between the years of 1938 and 1945 might remember Tom Riddle as a handsome and smart boy. A model student who first became Prefect and then Head Boy for Slytherin and who received a Special Award for Services to the School for his role in stopping the attacks on Muggleborns in the 1942/1943 school year.

BUT WAS HE?

The Quibbler can now exclusively reveal that it was Tom Riddle himself that opened the Chamber of Secrets, and set Slytherin’s Monster on the Muggleborns at Hogwarts, resulting in the eventual death of Myrtle Warren, nowadays better known as Moaning Myrtle. He then framed another student for the attacks, after which he stopped the attacks, resulting in his Special Award. That wouldn’t be the last time Tom Riddle framed someone else for his crimes. During the summer of 1943, the entire Riddle family was murdered in their manor, in Little Hangleton. Tom Riddle’s uncle, Morfin Gaunt, freely “confessed” to the murders. Was this the work of Tom Riddle? Knowing what he would become, it would not be surprising.

Hogwarts peers of Tom Riddle Jr might also remember the relationship between Tom Riddle and the late Hogwarts Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House, Horace Slughorn, who was known to dote on promising students. What secrets did the old Potion Master know of his former star pupil? What role did he play in the evolution of Tom Riddle, from poor orphan to Dark Lord? Most likely a significant one, considering the fact he was assassinated not four months after being back at Hogwarts, where he could spill everything he knew about Tom Riddle to Albus Dumbledore himself.

The Headmaster was and is widely known as the only person the Dark Lord ever feared. And with good reason, considering they duelled to a standstill in the very Ministry of Magic itself, just last spring.

BUT IS HE?

Albus Dumbledore has never defeated the Dark Lord. Harry Potter has.

Whether Harry Potter is indeed the “Chosen One”, we may never know. The answer to that question is most likely stored at the Department of Mysteries. (For an overview of Quibbler articles on the Department of Mysteries, see page 7).

BUT DOES THAT MATTER?

The Quibbler firmly believes that it is the duty of any citizen to stand up to those who threaten the freedom of any individual, be they magical or not. This war is not fought between the Dark Lord, Dumbledore and Harry Potter alone. As Albus Dumbledore is known to say, we all have to choose between what is easy and what is right.

The easy choice for me, for my family, would have been to not write this article.

The right thing would be to expose the lies He-Who-Is-Now-Named-Tom Riddle has cloaked himself with. The Quibbler has always strived to tell the stories others were too scared to explore. Dismantling the legend the Dark Lord has created around himself is a clear part of that.

We at the Quibbler want to leave you with the following.

Dear readers,

we live in dangerous and scary times. It is logical to be afraid, but ask yourself what you can do to support the fight against Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters. Remember, even Blibbering Humdingers are known to challenge stronger opponents if they feel they should.

And if the Blibbering Humdingers can, so can we.

Especially when WE are on the right side of history.

Harry exhaled forcefully. He was most amazed by the serious tone the article had taken. It seemed Luna’s Father, who he presumed had written it, had taken inspiration from Harry’s interview with Skeeter, which was by far her best piece of writing if you’d ask Harry. Until it came to the Blibbering Humdingers, of course.

Nothing was factually wrong as far as Harry knew, and the speculation of the effects of Love Potions was topical, of course, as Ted had mentioned it in the lecture he had given.

He felt a foot nudge his own and he looked up to Ginny motioning her head toward Luna. The blonde girl was waiting patiently for a reaction.

“It’s great, Luna,” he said with a smile, earning one in return.

“What does your father mean with that last part?” Neville questioned her, “That the war isn’t between You-Know-Who, Dumbledore and Harry?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ron cut in, “The Death Eaters aren’t just not going to kill you if you aren’t with Harry and Dumbledore. It’s a call to arms. Everyone should be ready to fight because whether you like it or not, chances are the fight will come to you.”

“That’s right,” Harry agreed.

They all looked at each other solemnly for a moment.

“It is also meant as clear and public support of you Harry,” Luna added. “Whether you are or aren’t ‘the chosen one’ is irrelevant, we are all in this together. We shouldn’t do nothing and wait for someone else to do the fighting for us. Daddy thinks the Daily Prophet played a dangerous game last summer, fanning all those flames about you being the ‘chosen one’.”

Harry grimaced. He knew what Luna was trying to say, but he couldn’t help but think about it differently. To him, being the chosen one was very relevant, considering he was the only one who could actually finish this battle.

“Because people will just wait for someone else to finish the job?” Ginny questioned. Luna nodded. They shared a look Harry couldn’t translate.

“But,” Seamus began, and Harry realized most of the Gryffindor table was looking at him, but was unsurprised, “are you the Chosen One? You never said at the HA,”

Before Harry could answer that, Neville spoke up. “Didn’t you listen to Luna? It shouldn’t matter whether he is or isn’t.”

“Yeah, but…” Seamus tried, clearly thinking it did matter.

“Oh, come on, Neville,” one of Ginny’s dormmates said, “you can’t actually expect us to fight?”

“We don’t, I don’t,” Harry tried, but Ginny had shot up to her feet.

“Oh come on, Laura, what else are you going to do? Just surrender? What kind of Gryffindor are you?” she said, outraged.

Different voices spoke up then, both agreeing with Ginny and defending Laura.

Harry let the discord swell, but he looked up toward the Head Table to see whether Dumbledore was there. He was. And he was looking at Harry as well, from over his intertwined fingers. His blue eyes bored into Harry.

Maybe it was legilimency, maybe it was just intuition. But Harry knew those eyes held a test, a challenge. And Harry wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

As he stood up, the last thing he heard was, “…but it’s not fair!”

He didn’t know who had said it, but it was a good start.

“No,” he said loudly, “it isn’t fair. Nothing about this is fair,” he declared and he looked down the table, where most of the discussion had taken place. They fell silent and looked up at him.

“It isn’t fair,” he repeated, “but it is what it is. The only thing we can do if we win, is to make sure it can never happen again,” he said.

“If? Don’t you mean ‘when’?” someone called out.

Harry grimaced. He hadn’t meant to let his own doubt seep through. What should he say now?

Luckily, Luna was there to help him out.

“Being brave is not about the absence of fear,” she said in a soft tone that nevertheless carried, “it’s about being afraid and not letting it control you. Just like the Dabberblimp!”

“I suggest you read the article,” Harry said at last, “It is like Luna’s father writes. This war isn’t fought between Voldemort, the Headmaster and me. Each of you could be walking in Diagon Alley this summer and encounter the wrong person,” he started explaining, but he saw most attention had shifted to his right. He looked around and saw Dumbledore approaching the Gryffindor table.

“Mr Potter is right,” the Headmaster said, his voice carrying throughout the entire hall. “Does anyone know what happened when I defeated Grindelwald in 1945?”

A voice from the Ravenclaw table was the one to answer, “The conflict continued for another year before his army was defeated,”

“Quite right, Miss Cross,” Dumbledore said, inclining his head toward the 7^th year who had answered.

“Voldemort is just a figurehead for his movement. Most of the violence we sadly read about in the newspaper every morning is done in his name yes, but not done by himself. By our latest intelligence, he currently commands somewhere around 300 magical beings. Only a small part of those 300 are his death eaters. Most of his forces aren’t as distinguishable. We must defeat Voldemort, yes. But as in every war, soldiers are much larger in number. And while I wish I could shield you all from this conflict, I can only hope to do so while you’re at Hogwarts.”

With that, he walked passed them, leaving a stunned and frightened silence behind.

-- In Her Memory –

Unsurprisingly, the Quibbler article, the discussion at the Gryffindor table, and Dumbledore’s words were the most discussed topic in the Hogwarts corridors that week. Everywhere Harry went he caught snippets of discussions and quotes from the article. He had also noticed some Slytherins shooting dark looks towards Luna.

He had discussed the potential repercussions that Luna’s Dad would face with Dumbledore before, but of course, Luna would be a target as well.

He wasn’t sure whether it was because Malfoy wasn’t at Hogwarts anymore, but there seemed to be no outward threat. During lunch, Harry talked with Ron, Ginny and Neville. They felt the need to keep an extra eye on Luna, to make sure she was safe from harm.

At this moment he was walking with Ginny through the corridors. They were looking for Alison and Edward, the Ravenclaw fifth-year prefects. Harry had only talked with Alison that one time when she tried to flirt with him, but this time he had Ginny to protect him. He hadn’t talked with Edward much, but he did show up at the HA from time to time.

Harry and Ginny made comfortable small talk as they used the Map to locate them.

“Hey, Alison! Eddy!” Ginny called when they saw them turn a corner. They hastened to catch up to them.

“Weasley?” Edward, or Eddy apparently, asked nonplussed, when they turned the corner.  He then did a double-take. “Mr Potter?” he asked, with a bit of a squeak.

Ginny snorted a laugh and Harry raised a confused eyebrow. Eddy flushed a bit, “Sorry” he mumbled.

Alison laughed at him as well before turning to Ginny and Harry.

“You do know we ought to give you detention right?” she began. But Ginny cut her off.

“Yeah, but we both know you won’t,” she said self-confidently.

Alison looked at her and rolled her eyes. Then she squinted at the two of them suspiciously, “What are you two doing out here alone at night? Looking for a nice broom cupboard?”

Harry flushed at the implication. “Ha! In his dreams maybe,” Ginny joked, making Alison and Eddy laugh. She then turned serious.

“No, we chased you down to talk about Luna,” she began.

“Because of the Quibbler article?” Eddy cottoned on immediately.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “We’re afraid there might be some repercussions. There were some rather, er inflammatory statements.”

“You mean inflammatory lies,” Alison countered.

“The facts as they were presented were mostly true, especially the stuff about Riddle’s blood status,” Harry said calmly. Honestly, he’d expected pushback far earlier than he had. “You could easily look up Tom Riddle’s history.”

“True, so I did,” she said, “But there’s no actual proof that this Tom Riddle person is the same as You-Know-How. Only theories and the Quibbler is full of theories.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Theories that Dumbledore agrees with,” Harry shot back.

Alison shrugged, “That’s not the strong rebuttal you seem to think it is.”

“Why not?” Ginny asked aggressively.

“Because he’s old and clearly senile,” Alison said simply.

“You take that back,” Ginny growled, taking out her wand.

But before Alison could argue back, Eddie stepped in. “Okay, well, this is not going anywhere. What did you want to ask?”

Harry put his hand on Ginny shoulders, as she had stepped up to Alison, to help her calm down. She looked over her shoulder at him and stepped back.

“We wanted to ask you two to keep an eye out for her. And if you don’t want to step in, alert us if you think something is wrong,” Harry said.

“We’ll do that, Harry,” Eddie said. “You can count on me, er, us,” he corrected quickly, before blushing and quickly turning around, pulling Alison with him.

As Ginny and Harry walked back, Ginny bumped into Harry.

“You have a fan!” she teased.

“Who? Eddie?” Harry questioned nonplussed.

“Duh,” Ginny said, “didn’t you see him blush?”

“Was it like looking in a mirror to the past then?” Harry quipped with a huge grin. He jumped forward to dodge Ginny’s punch to his shoulder and he ran away laughing, while Ginny cursed him something foul. But he could hear the smile in her voice.

-- In Her Memory –

As Ron’s birthday approached, Harry realized something was wrong. He had given Ron those fixed Chocolate Cards months ago. Why hadn’t Ron celebrated finishing his chocolate card collection? Had the company screwed up? Had Ron by chance given away the card that held Ptomely?

He asked Ginny to investigate. She teased him mercilessly about abusing his fame, but he knew she supported the cause. She reported the next day that Ron had indeed finished his collection but he hadn’t wanted to celebrate it because it was such a meaningless achievement in light of what was happening.

Harry understood the sentiment, so he let it slide, even if he was sad that his ploy to give his friend’s mood a boost had failed.

Ron’s birthday passed quietly. Like with Luna, they held a small birthday dinner in the kitchens and exchanged gifts. The two weeks after passed quickly, with the only distraction being the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. The match was over quickly. Harry had caught the snitch so quickly that Ginny complained that she hadn’t even gotten into her stride yet. Harry reminded her that she had scored all four of the Gryffindor goals, but Ginny hadn’t been satisfied with that response. Harry got the feeling there was something she wasn’t saying about it, but let it slide.

The quidditch party had been fun, as always.

This time it featured a quite spectacular, and quite public, first kiss between Julia and Andrew, the fifth-year prefects.

Ginny had had a field day teasing them for not using the privacy of Prefect duties to perform their first kiss. Harry had thought it was really sweet and happily joined the others in taking the mick. The two looked embarrassed, but happy when they left the common room shortly after.

It did Harry good to see that life continued on.

He and Ron spend most of the evening in their favourite armchairs by the fire, talking a bit about everything and nothing, sitting in contemplative but comfortable silence from time to time. Before Christmas, Harry would have probably been stressing about not using this time to practise. But Ginny’s word had wrung through. He, and Ron especially, needed rest and relaxation. He had noticed it had actually improved his concentration, which really shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

He was reminiscing on how Hermione had done it, when with an oof, Neville sat down heavily in the chair next to him.

“Hey, Neville,” Harry greeted, “Done being talked up by Seamus?” Seamus had continued his practice of talking Neville up to the ladies. Considering Harry had seen girls give second looks at Neville in the corridors between classes, he wondered whether the lack of success was due to Neville not being willing to actually do something, or whether Seamus was actively hurting Neville’s chances.

Neville snickered. “You know, it’s actually quite fun once you get over your own embarrassment,” he said. “You should try it, Harry,” he said, with a grin.

Ron and Neville both laughed as Harry grimaced.

“No, thanks, I don’t need any more articles wondering who my “chosen one” will be,” he said, joining them in laughter.

“Seamus isn’t really that good at it, right? You never have success,” Ron remarked.

Neville shook his head. “Well, first of all, he only ever does it with Ginny’s roommates. He’s lucky they think he’s funny because I imagine they’d be tired of it by now otherwise.” Neville rolled his eyes. “Luna described it as performance art.”

They nursed their drinks for a moment.

“I’ve seen girls in the halls follow you, you know,” Harry told Neville, “with their eyes I mean,” he added when Neville looked at him warily.

“Oh, well,” Neville said, flushing. “You know, I – er,” he began, before taking a breath and staring over. “I’ve noticed as well. I guess it’s good for the self-confidence.”

“But?” Ron prompted, “There’s definitely a but there.”

Neville just shrugged, but he flushed again and looked away.

“Neville?” Harry said, sitting up, “What is it?”

“Neville, you sly dog!” Ron said, grinning at their friend, “Has your eye caught someone as well?”

“Is that true, Neville?” Harry said grinning as well.

“Maybe,” Neville said, scratching the side of his head, suddenly looking quite goofy. “But I’m not saying anything,” he said decisively. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” and with that he fled, leaving to Ron and Harry to share a laugh.

“You could probably find out in a week with the map,” Ron said.

“Nah, wouldn’t that be a breach of privacy or something?” Harry questioned.

“Probably,” Ron shrugged carelessly. Harry just shook his head, he’d never do that to his friends.

-- In Her Memory –

“So, she morphed her nose to look just like Max’s and asked if she could have a cookie,” Ted said with a huge smile.

Harry laughed as well, feeling as content as was possible. These dinners with Andromeda had been a great idea. He loved talking with Ted, who joined increasingly often, as he had a great sense of humour and could tell great stories. Especially the ones about Tonks and her antics were funny. And Ted had a lot of stories to tell.

Meanwhile, Tonks wasn’t as amused. She didn’t join as often as Ted did, her being an auror meant she was constantly working during this time of war. But when she had her shift at Hogwarts, Andromeda often invited Ted, Tonks and Harry to share a dinner.

It had caused Harry to think of what could’ve been. Tonks might have been like a big sister to him. He looked at her, sitting across the table playing with her food.

Some of the colours had returned to her, which had instilled hope in Harry that she was starting to feel better over whatever was going on between her and Remus. But that hadn’t seemed the case, considering the way she always redirected any question that might hint at Order activities and thus one Remus Lupin.

Harry didn’t understand what was happening there, but he didn’t feel the right to pry. What did he know about matters of the heart anyway?

Nothing.

At least that was what Fleur had said in her latest letter. She kept nagging him about finding a date, and said he had to live a little. When he had tried to explain that he didn't want to put some poor girl on Voldemort's to-kill list, she had sent an angry letter back saying he was stupid.

Harry wondered about the discussion he would have with himself if there had been someone he fancied. He still had not found out who he had smelled in the amortentia back in Slughorn's first class. But if he had, would he have thought differently about what he said to Fleur? Harry hoped he wouldn't. After all, giving in would be easy, and not doing what his heart might have wanted was the right and hard choice. And like Dumbledore always said, the harder choice was often the right one in cases like these.

Only Harry had the sneaking suspicion Dumbledore wouldn't agree with that sentiment in this case.

He focused back on the conversation at the dinner table. Tonks was sharing something about what was going on at the Auror's, something Harry was quite interested in.

“It's getting tense, Mum,” she said dejectedly. “There's almost certainly a spy in the ranks, but we have not yet found a way to figure out who it might be. They wouldn't be so stupid to actually brand them. I keep overthinking everything. Two days ago, I even suspected Kingsly for a moment because he was a bit late and had no excuse!”

Andromeda reached out to caress her daughter on the shoulder.

“Have the older Aurors told you anything about how they dealt with it the last time? Robards would've been around back then, right?”

Harry perked up.

“He was,” Tonks confirmed, “He's one of the longest-tenured Aurors, very experienced and it shows. He keeps a cool head.”

Harry pulled a face and Tonks noticed. “But, he has his problems as well, doesn't he Harry?”

Harry shrugged, “I think he symbolizes a lot about the ministry.”

“That sounds like you aren't the biggest fan?” Ted asked curiously.

“That's one way to put it,” Harry said grinning, “There are a couple of issues I have with the Ministry,” he explained.

“Like the way they treated you and Dumbledore last year?” Andromeda asked.

“For example,” Harry nodded, “but there's a lot more than that. The only issue is I sometimes can’t figure out which is due to a fundamental flaw of the Ministry, or because of Fudge being Fudge.”

“What happened with the Prophet last year was mostly due to Fudge,” Ted said. “Things didn't happen like that during the first war.”

“Not on Ministry orders, no,” Tonks countered, “There were more than enough pieces of “journalism” published that said the Death eaters weren't all that bad, and that the most productive solution would be to listen and discuss their problems,” she said with heavy sarcasm.

“Of, course their actions were and are abhorrent,” Andromeda said, “but most people agree with the idea that talking is better than fighting. Most people wanted a peaceful resolution.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, “but is that because they are against violence in principle? Or just because they felt wrong about fighting with the purebloods who make up most of Riddle's forces? Something tells me they wouldn't be as interested in talking or a compromise if the Death Eaters had been pro-Muggleborn or pro-Goblin.”

Andromeda looked uneasy but Ted nodded. “I wouldn't be surprised if that was true, Harry. But there's nothing much we can do about that.”

Harry didn't respond to that. That might indeed be the case, but Harry didn't think it mattered.

“I'd be willing to discuss your misgivings with the ministry with you, Harry, I'm always interested in talking politics,” Ted offered. “I assume you're having these kinds of discussions with the Headmaster also?”

Harry nodded.

“What else is on your fuck-the-ministry-list, Harry?” Tonks said, grinning when her mother admonished her.

“Oh, a lot,” Harry said carelessly. “Actually, there is something you might know something about.”

“When Sirius broke out of Azkaban, it was widely reported he was the first one ever to do so, right?” he asked rhetorically. “So, why then, did they give a Kiss-On-Sight order? Wouldn't they want to know how he had escaped? Or, shouldn't they want to know?”

Tonks nodded approvingly. “Great question, kid! And you're right, they should have wanted to know. There are a couple of things at play here, though. First of all, they all thought Sirius was a dangerous murderer before he went into Azkaban. When he escaped, it was presumed he was insane as well.”

“That's not true,” Harry said, “I overheard Fudge saying he had thought it strange that Sirius had seemed so lucid, even after all those years in Azkaban.”

“You overheard?” Andromeda asked, “How can you just overhear the Minister?”

“I followed him in my Invisibility Cloak during an illegal Hogsmeade trip,” Harry said nonchalantly, shooting Tonks a hidden smirk.

Andromeda put her face in her hands, while Tonks laughed out loud and Ted shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. He thought he heard Andromeda mutter something about his father. Harry chuckled as well.

“But, to come back to it, they were afraid he was going to kill a lot of people if they tried to arrest him. And the fact Fudge thought he was lucid only adds to that belief. You could argue they should've sent the Dementors in to apprehend him, but clearly, they didn't have enough of an effect. According to Fudge that is,” Tonks added sadly. “With that in mind, you can understand why they didn't want to give him the opportunity to try something,” she finished, shrugging like she didn't know what to think of it.

“Okay, that logic I can follow,” Harry said slowly, “but that doesn't explain why they Kissed Barty Crouch Junior.”

“The only reasons I can think of are PR-related,” Tonks said. “That's why it didn't make the papers at all, which of course, comes back to your issues with the Prophet.”

“Well, it's clear now why you prefer the Quibbler, dear, besides the obvious one,” Andromeda said with a smile and wink.

“Oh?” Tonks said, smiling wickedly, “Have you decided Luna is to be your chosen one?”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said with a groan.