HARRY POTTER AND THE GREAT DIVIDE

It was a lazy and peaceful July night on Privet Drive, and very few bedroom lamps were left lit. The soft yellow glow through the very appropriate curtains made each window look like a small square of light set into a world that was otherwise completely blue and still. With his elbows on his windowsill, Harry Potter counted the seconds between the darknesses, as one by one, the bedroom lamps were turned off, and people with completely normal lives said, "Goodnight, dear," or turned off their televisions, or gave the family pet one last scratch on the head. Harry Potter wondered vaguely what it would be like to be a normal teenager. Would he be watching reruns of the Avengers on his own television set, like Dudley? Would he be pretending to sleep as the shadow of his parents' footsteps passed the amber crack under his door, like Ron? Or would he be surreptitiously studying by flashlight, like Hermione? The fact of the matter was, that Harry Potter was nothing like a normal teenager, nor would he ever be. For Harry Potter was a wizard. And not only that... "At least," he muttered to himself, "At least I might have been a normal wizard." But it was too warm and too peaceful a night to allow his anger to rise. As somber and lonely as these moments were, some small part of him must have enjoyed his nightly vigil at the windowsill, because he returned there, every night. The dust of his windowsill was marked by the two round prints of his elbows. He looked over at the lamp posts humming their mute pools of light onto the moon-blue asphalt, and let his eyes wander, slowly, over to his neighbor's lawn. "No," he said out loud, and forced himself to look over at the deserted playground, barely visible down the block. "That's where the dementors attacked Dudley and I," he muttered to himself, trying to map the confused events of the past few years onto the quiet street scene. He looked down at the windowsill, and saw the deep scars running into the brick surrounding it. "That's where Ron and Fred and George pulled out the bars with the flying car," he smiled. But like Mad Eye Moody's, his eyes seemed to be wandering of their own accord, out of his control, back to the neighbor's front lawn again, to the dark space between the branches – But there were no yellow eyes in the darkness to meet his green ones.
"And that's where –" But he couldn't finish his sentence. The street lights were being refracted into too circular spectrums of watery light, and he had to hold his breath very tightly in his stomach. Luna had spoken of voices behind the curtain. Harry would have paid all the Galleons in his vault then to hear a voice from beyond that veil – Sirius Black, his godfather...Lily, his mother...James, his father. Even Cedric, just to know...just to know that they were there, wherever they were. "Why does everyone I touch end up dead?" he thought for the thousandth time that summer. "Stop being stupid," he said out loud, and pinched himself, hard, on the arm. "They're dead. He's dead, just like your parents, just like Diggory, and it's time you stopped snivelling." As soon as he thought the word, though, he saw a young Sirius in his mind's eye, laughing with James, as they spun "Snivellus" Snape in the air – No, he thought, shaking his head. That's not the way he wanted to remember his family, the only parents he ever knew. He thought of their wedding photo – his mother's eyes sparkling at her father as she laughed, his Dad looking right into his green eyes, right through him. And Sirius, before his face had gone slack and pale in Azkaban, laughing with them....looking at them like nothing could make him happier than seeing them happy... He pinched his arm again, and recited a few lines of "Flying with the Cannons" mentally. But it didn't seem to be working. He let go of his forearm, and was surprised to see a small round purple bruise, from where he had been pinching it, night after night. "Ron," he said out loud. "Hermione. Neville. Fred. George," he recited mentally. He had plenty of friends who were alive and well, plenty of friends he would be seeing in a few short months. Friends he had been fighting alongside, friends who would never let him down in a hundred years. He grinned. "Friends that you put in danger?" said a small voice in his heart, "Friends that you almost killed trying to play the hero?" His reverie was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a tiny ball of feathers, smacking loudly into the window pane just an inch from his ear. More out of instinct than anything else, he shot his hand out to catch the fluffy little Snitch, only to see that it was – "Pig!" he cried. In the next room, his Uncle Vernon snored loudly, and muttered. Cupping the dazed owl in his hands, he shut one of the shutters, and carried Pigwidgeon to his bed. "What is it, Pig? A note from Ron?" Pleasantly surprised, and relieved that someone else couldn't sleep, Harry unfurled the note. But his pleasant relief was interrupted by an icy shiver – "HARRY – HE KNOWS. HE'S COMING. THERE'S NO TIME - GET THE MUGGLES AND GET OUT. WE'LL TRY TO GET DUMBLEDO - - " Ron's untidy scrawl ended in an abrupt line of ink slashed across the page.

Without a second thought, Harry flung himself under his bed, shouting out at the top of his lungs: "GET UP! GET UP NOW! GET UP!"
In the other room, his Aunt gave a shriek, and he heard his Uncle sputtering and coughing through the thick walls. The laugh-track of Dudley's television continued across the hall.
"DUDLEY! NOW!" shouted Harry. He ripped up the loose floorboard and seized a small bag of Floo Powder – Dumbledore had sent it to him by owl, "Just in case," only a few days after the end of term.
"This seems like a "Just in case," Harry muttered grimly through his teeth. Suddenly he heard the front door rattle downstairs.
"WHAT – IN – BLAZES –"sputtered Uncle Vernon, standing in the doorway, Aunt Petunia clinging to his beefy shoulder.
"No time!" shouted Harry, "Take Dudley and go out the back! NOW!"
"I will do NO SUCH THING!" shouted Uncle Vernon, purple creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. "I told you I'd have no more of this –"
"ALOHOMORA!" boomed a voice from downstairs, and with a sinking feeling, Harry recognized the voice of Lucius Malfoy, and the almighty bang of the door being smashed open.
"GET IN!" shouted Harry, and the Dursleys found themselves being whipped into the room quite against their will. Harry remarked to himself surprisedly that he had done magic without intending to.
"WHAT- YOU- HOW – DARE!" sputtered Vernon as Petunia moaned softly behind him.
"JUST GET DOWN!" shouted Harry. And for the first time in a decade and a half, Uncle Vernon did precisely as he was told.
There was a long, tense silence, punctuated by a few creaks from downstairs. Harry's mind was racing a mile a minute, whipping through the curses he knew... "Expelliarmus," he thought, "Locomotor Mortis, uhhh... Impedimenta...Expelliarmus...uh...uh...Expelliarmus!..." It was as though five years of learning had whipped out of his brain. Ron...what had happened to Ron? Surely Mrs. Weasley's clock was pointing even now to "Mortal Peril." But had they managed to contact Dumbledore? And what of Hermione? Did she even know? Who else could he contact in the Order? If they could only get to the fireplace...but where to go – The Burrow? Grimmauld Place? Hogwarts? Suddenly there was a creak on the stair, and all three of them froze. Aunt Petunia whimpered quietly, her face mashed into the floor, barely able to breathe beneath the bulk of Uncle Vernon. He put his beefy hand over her mouth, and whispered, "Shhh..." quietly. It was almost more than Harry could bear, to hear his normally brutish, vicious Uncle comforting her...for the first time he realized they were not just his Aunt and Uncle, but a husband and wife...just like his parents... "This is how it was," he thought, and the very thought made his blood race. Suddenly, in the door frame – "Mummy? Dad?" Dudley said, his bulk nearly filling the entire doorway, "Have you gone mad?" Harry realized he had been holding his breath, and released it in a rush. "What's HE doing?" he asked angrily. "Dudley," hissed Harry, "get in here, now!" Dudley furrowed his brow again, but before he could reply, the hallway was filled with green light. Dudley's eyes opened wide for a brief moment, and he fell with a heavy thud to the floor, his striped pajamas askew, as Aunt Petunia's horrible screech filled Harry's roaring ears.... Without waiting to find out what happened next, Harry wielded his wand, and cried, "EXPELLIARMUS!" Not a moment too soon, Lucius Malfoy's wand was sent spinning out of his hand, even as he stepped into view. "LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!" Harry cried, his voice cracking with panic. Lucius fells stiffly to the ground on top of Dudley, on top of what used to be Dudley. Aunt Petunia was wailing, scratching the floorboards with her nails, trying to claw her way to Dudley, as Vernon called her name loudly. "That will be quite enough of that...Mr. Potter," said a sibiliant, all-too- familiar voice. Even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia fell silent. "EXPELL—" But Harry found that suddenly his voice had left him. A few red sparks shot out of the end of his wand, but nothing more. The hem of a dark cloak swept into view, and as Harry followed the cloak upwards he saw the same, red, burning eyes he knew to expect – the snake- like slits for nostrils – the musty reek he knew from Quirrell's turban... "Prophecy," said Voldemort softly. "So many questions. So many twists and turns. So many unforseen events." With a flick of his wand, Harry found himself roughly thrown to the ground. He felt the joint of his elbow snap out of place under his weight, his vision turning dark, then to stars, cotton in his mouth and ears. He wrestled his consciousness out of the muck, and heard Voldemort's sinister voice: "...But tonight, Mr. Potter, we finally have an answer. An answer to all the questions, a twist to end all the silly little tribulations you have put me through." Harry tried to scream. He tried to kick. "Accio wand," he thought, "Accio wand!" But nothing happened. He felt a hand on his ankle. He looked down to see Aunt Petunia grasping his ankle, her head buried into the floor, shaking like a leaf. "M-my boy..M-m-mm...my D-Dudley...!" Uncle Vernon stuttered dazedly. Another flash of green light, and the Dursley's lay still on the floor. "Strike a chord, Harry? There's something...familiar about all this. Ohhhh yes. A Potter to the end, aren't you Harry? A very brave hero who dies trying to save the people he loves, when YOU are the very reason these people are all dead tonight." Harry's heart sank. All of them... Ron...Hermione... "Oh yes," Voldemort hissed sibiliantly, "All the Weasleys, in fact. And Bellatrix herself just returned from the Granger's home...I imagine it will take a week to get the stench of that dirty blood off of her robes, but she'll manage, I'm sure...It's only a matter of time before Lupin, Moody, yes, even Dumbledore, all meet the same sticky end as your recently departed godfather..." The burning in Harry's scar was even more unbearable now than his shattered elbow, as Voldemort sank slowly to the floor, slithered over to Harry, whispering in his ear. "I have you to thank, my boy...couldn't have done it without you, really." Harry's eyes were blurred again my angry tears. So this is what all their effort had been for. "And now, Harry, the end. I would allow you some last words, but I'm afraid you would say something quite embarrassing, like some feeble, first-year jinx. And we wouldn't want to tarnish your reputation – hero." His lips were almost touching Hary's ear...he could feel his putrid breath rustle his hair, as he whispered, "Crucio!"
It was pain beyond all pain, mixed with the horrible laughter, and screaming...who was screaming? He realized he himself was screaming, as knives of electric pain shot through him –
"POTTER!!" shouted a very familiar voice.
...a thousand knives...
"POTTER!!!"

***********************************************************************

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY IT, POTTER!?" That was Uncle Vernon, Harry thought, even as the laughter and the screaming died on his lips. He couldn't tell which had belonged to him. He opened his eyes against the searing pain in his forehead, and saw all three of the Dursleys standing over his bed. He released his white-knuckle grip on the bedsheets, and looked from Aunt Petunia's pale, horsey face to Dudley's angry, half-asleep scowl.

"You...you're alive," Harry stammered weakly.

"Alive?" Uncle Vernon snorted, "Of course we're alive, no thanks to you! You scared the entire neighborhood nearly out of its wits! I wouldn't be half surprisedif the police arrived on our doorstep any minute! Didn't I tell you that this nightmare nonsense had to end, or it would be St. Brutus's for you? Didn't I tell you that -"

But he was already gasping for breath despite his best efforts. He sat up in bed, and wrapped his arms around his knees, ashamed of himself, but unable to control the burning in his eyes. Uncle Vernon was so shocked he stopped in mid-sentence, and Dudley snapped out of his half-asleep torpor, his mouth hanging down to his chest.

"Yes...er...well..." Uncle Vernon stammered, trying to find something vicious to say, yet seemingly stymied.

"Get out!" choked Harry, trying to sound angry. The last time he had let the Dursleys see him cry, he had been four, and he was not about to lend them any more ammunition.

"You'll watch your tone, you ungrateful freak!" hissed Vernon. But his anger seemed tinged by his confusion and fear. "I'm warning you boy, not another ruddy sound," he muttered, and he stomped out of the room. Dudley grinned nastily.

"Crying about your boyfriend again, Potter? Ohhh, Cedric! Ohhh—"

"GET OUT!" shouted Harry, and Dudley found himself shoved out of the door by an invisible hand. Only Aunt Petunia was left standing there, her face still pale. There was a highly awkward silence in which Harry held his breath and secretly pinched his forearm under the blankets.

Aunt Petunia sniffed abruptly, and ventured, "Was....was it...Lily? Err...your parents?" Though she spoke in her usual snotty tone, Harry caught her stealing surreptitious glances at him.

"GET OUT!!" Harry cried out for the third time.

"You needn't shout," said Aunt Petunia stiffly, after a moment. She turned her back on him, but did not leave. Harry was reminded forcibly of her grabbing his ankle during his dream. Another moment passed, where he wondered if he ought to say anything. But the minute he decided not to, Aunt Petunia snapped, "I expect you to be up at eight o clock. You might as well stay up" and stormed out of the room. "Alright," Harry muttered aloud, "Get a hold of yourself. No sense in going all to pieces."

What would his father do? What would Sirius--

"Stop," he said aloud.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyebrows, ignoring by habit the tingling in his scar. He was not about to rush off and do something rash. The last time he'd done that, Sirius had--

"STOP!" he said sternly.

Of course! The Floo Powder! He hung his torso over the edge of his bed, and lifted up the floorboard. He paused however, with his hand on the small burlap bag...This was going to be risky. The Dursleys had already boarded up the fireplace again. And more importantly, who was he going to contact in the middle of the night?

He tried to picture what his friends would say.

"Harry, that's serious," Hermione's voice said anxiously in his head, "If Voldemort is using Leglimancy to get inside your head, You should go straight to Dumbledore. Maybe you should start taking Occlumency with Snape again--"

Harry shook his head to clear the voice away. He had nothing but love and respect for Hermione, but sometimes she just didn't understand. He was not going to bother Dumbledore with his gloom and doom yet again, and he certainly wasn't going to do anything that would result in extra lessons with Snape.

He tried to think what Ron might say, and played Ron's usual litany of anxious muttering in his head. But aside from Ron's occasional lack of stalwart bravery, he was the person Harry wanted to talk to right now - not an authority figure, but a friend, who would sympathize and assure him that everything would turn out right.

"Besides," he thought, "I can make sure everyone's alright at the Burrow. Just in case."

"But everyone IS fine," he said out loud, "It was just a dream! Just a dream!"

His decision made, he pulled on his blue jeans, and put his wand and floo powder in his back pocket.

Careful to close the door softly, Harry crept down the hallway. Dudley's TV droned on softly, as did his uncle's snoring. He could always count on those two to fall asleep faster than you could say, "Dormiens" but Aunt Petunia was another matter. He was certain she was still awake. He would have to be very careful.

He avoided the creaking third stair, just over his old "bedroom," and snuck into the livingroom.

"Evanesco," he whispered, pointing his wand at the pine planking hastily nailed over the fireplace. He waved his wand and whispered, "Inflamarium!" and a small but cheerful fire was crackling in the grate. He looked over his shoulder anxiously, expecting to hear Aunt Petunia creaking down the stairs any moment, but he was lucky - only more snores, and the occasional pop from the fireplace.

He grabbed a sofa cushion off the couch and put it under his knees. Throwing a small handful of floo powder into the flames, he said, "The Burrow" clearly and softly, and soon the familiar spinning sensation forced him to shut his eyes tight. When he opened them again, he was looking into the Weasley's dark kitchen/dining room.

"Ron?" he whispered loudly. Hmm. He hadn't exactly thought it out this far. How was he going to get Ron to come down here without waking the entire family? He remarked to himself ironically that shouting "Accio Ron" was probably a very bad idea. Just then, he had a very good idea.

"Pig!" he whispered. "Pig! Here, Pig!" He whistled softly and was rewarded by a cheerful hoot.

Suddenly Pig came pelting into the room, whizzing in circles and hooting loudly.

"Shhh! Shut up! Pig! Shut it!...No...NO!" he shouted, for Pig had spotted him, and was zooming straight for his face.

Instinctively, Harry jerked his head out of the fire, and blinked against the disorienting feeling of being back in his own livingroom. But Pigwidgeon also burst promptly out of the fireplace hooting and chirping for all he was worth. Upstairs, he heard Uncle Vernon snort loudly.

Harry did some quick thinking and pointed his wand at Pigwidgeon.

"Silencio!" he whispered. Pig's shrill chirping and hooting was suddenly silenced. Pigwidgeon was so shocked that he fell with an unruly bump to the couch and turned to look at Harry with wide-eyed suprise, as though to ask, "Why would anyone ever want ME to be quiet?"

There was a tense moment as Harry strained his eyes and ears in the darkness, but soon Uncle Vernon's rumbling snores resumed. Heaving a sigh

of relief, Harry scooped Pigwidgeon up.

"Pig, listen," Harry said, "Go wake up Ron, and get him to come down to the kitchen fireplace. Keep pecking at him until he does. But don't wake anyone else up, got it?"

Pig hooted silently, looking thrilled to have a mission.

Harry threw another pinch of floo powder into the flames, just to make sure, and whispered, "The Burrow!" Then, feeling slightly guilty, he reached back and chucked Pig into the flames like a feathery baseball. The fire gave a little crackle, and Pigwidegon spun like a little gray Sneakoscope before whizzing out of sight.

Harry waited a bit longer, then stuck his head into the flames, said "The Burrow," and closed his eyes once more against the spinning feeling...

**********************************************************************

He opened his eyes and saw the same dark kitchen...he counted the tiles on the floor idly, wondering if Pig had even managed to get into Ron's room - what if he had the door closed? Would Pig think to check back with Harry? Several minutes ticked by, and Harry was just about to give up, when Ron's sock-clad feet came down the stairs across the room. Harry smiled at the holes in the toes. The feet stopped just in front of the fire, and Ron's knees thunked down to the tiles.

"Harry?" Ron said sleepily, peering into his face.

"Alright, Ron?" Harry smiled, relieved. Of course it had just been a dream. No reason at all to suspect that the Weasleys were anything but fine.

"Are YOU alright?" Ron asked suddenly. He seemed to realize that Harry's head arriving in his fireplace was not a day to day occurence. "How did you even manage this? Didn't the Muggles stop you?"

"Dumbledore connected me to the Network, and gave me some Floo Powder," Harry said, shaking his head dismissively, "The Muggles don't know. Ron, I had this dream -"

Harry told Ron everything that had happened, and Ron listened wide-eyed.

"So what do you think?" Harry said.

Ron was quiet for a long time.

"Well..." he said thoughtfully, "The last time you were having nightmares, You-Know-Who was trying to--"

"--Ron," Harry interrupted, smiling, "Don't you think it's time you started saying Voldemort, like the rest of us?"

Ron flinched visibly at the name, but suddenly seemed very angry.

"It's alright for you, isn't it?" he whispered angrily, "You're The Harry Potter! Well some of us might not be so brave! I should think that after what happened to Sirius--"

But he cut himself off looking mortified at Harry's expression. They both looked down at the floor. Harry's knees began to hurt.

"I should think after what happened to Sirius," Ron continued slowly, "you WOULD be afraid, Harry." He trailed off apologetically, and met Harry's eyes again.

Harry thought for a long time. Yes, he had been terrified when Voldemort showed up in his dream, terrified when he realized all of his friends were dead, and it was his fault. But he wasn't about to tell Ron that.

"I'm sorry," Ron said, "I was being stupid. We're all fine here, you don't need to worry. It was just a dream."

There was another awkward pause.

"You know, it's not just you, you know," Ron said slowly. "Ginny...Ginny was there too, in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione was there too. It wasn't your Dad being attacked by a giant snake -"

"No," Harry said quietly, "It was both my parents being killed by Voldemort."

Ron sighed. "All I meant is, you're not the only one who's afraid for - for people. Certain...people," he finished lamely.

Harry didn't know what to say. He had never heard Ron speak like this.

"Excuse me gentlemen," said a very kindly voice. Another head had suddenly appeared just at Harry's right temple, and Harry found Albus Dumbledore smiling politely at him, the tip of his nose about a centimeter from Harry's. In fact, they had to angle their heads slightly so as to both fit in the Weasley's grate.

"Uhm, good evening, Professor. err, Headmaster," Ron stammered. Dumbledore was possibly the most likeable, least frightening wizard at Hogwarts, with the possible exception of Professor Flitwick, but it seemed that his sudden appearance in Ron's kitchen had thrown him for a bit of a loop.

"I wonder if you are aware, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling, "That you are as of yet an underage wizard?"

Harry gasped and spluttered on some Floo Powder.

"The Sp- spells - I used magic to use the f-fireplace..."

"Yes, I believe it was a Vanishing Charm, Silencing Charm, and a Flame Charm, actually. Really, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling over his spectacles, "You ran out of matches?"

Harry abashedly began running through excuses, but Dumbledore cut him off with a friendly shake of his head.

"Explain later, Harry, I'm sure you used your best judgement. We have more pressing issues to attend to right now. The Ministry of Magic will be arriving at your house in short course, I imagine, so you only have a few minutes to get to Headquarters."

"Headquarters, sir?" Harry asked, with a sinking feeling.

"Yes, Harry. Only for a short while though – you'll soon be at the Burrow again." "Harry's coming here?" Ron said happily, and Harry's heart lept up in his chest.

"After a few days at Headquarters, Mr. Weasley, yes," said Dumbledore gently, "And you'd best get packing too. Rouse the whole family, and tell them to meet at Headquarters as soon as they can. Your parents and the twins should Apparate, actually...pity you haven't passed your exams yet. Now, you both remember the address?"

"Sure we do," Ron said, "Tw-"

"Shhh!" Harry said quickly.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Hurry, boys," Dumbledore said, "I'll explain everything when we get there."

But Harry had heard that line before. He trusted Dumbledore, yes. He knew the Headmaster would never lie to him, not directly. But he did have a tendency to, well...withhold information.

"No," he thought, "Just trust him. No thinking time. Go."

And with that, he jerked his head out of the flames, and found himself staring at his Uncle's plaid slippers.

"SO!" he bellowed.

He had no choice.

"Mimbleton Wibbly Nob!" He shouted, pointing his wand behind Uncle Vernon's back.

Involuntarily, Vernon Durlsey whipped his heavy bulk around and held his hands up to his face defensively, waiting for something awful to come flying at him, or his face to turn purple, or something equally horrible. But Harry was already pelting up the stairs for his trunk.

"POTTTTEEEEEERRRR!!!!"

But he had successfully locked himself in his room. He dove under the bed, hauled his trunk out, and dashed across the room to unlock Hedwig.

"Meet me at Headquarters, Hedwig!" he shouted, as he flung open the window. But before she could even hoot surprisedly, Uncle Vernon was already in the doorway, and Harry had a feeling that no phoney curses were going to dissuade him.

Uncle Vernon actually was purple faced this time, though not through any magic of Harry's, and looked quite near frothing at the mouth. Petunia was clasping Dudley around the neck in the background, seemingly more petrified of her own husband than anything Harry might have done. He held a screwdriver in his hand, and Harry could see several angry, fresh scars in the doorjamb.

"I've always wanted that lock off," he risked, cheekily.

Uncle Vernon let out a bellow like a wounded rhinocerous, and charged across the room with the screwdriver held high, apparently about to murder him, or at the very least, pound him. When suddenly, a bright white light filled the room from the open window.

"MR. POTTER," said a clear, loud voice. Harry heard the same odd reverb in Lee's voice as he commented every Quidditch game. Hedwig flapped wildly in her cage. "THIS IS THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC, DIVISION FOR THE RESTRICTION OF UNDERAGE WIZARDRY. WE HAVE A WARRANT TO DETAIN YOU FOR QUESTIONING. PLEASE DROP YOUR WAND, AND PUT BOTH HANDS ON YOUR HEAD WHILE WE ENTER THE PREMISES."

Harry's stomach turned to ice. He'd blown it. He was actually getting arrested. But suddenly, he was being shoved aside, and Uncle Vernon climbed onto his desk, shaking his fist out the window.

"WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE MEAN BY IT! CEASE THAT INFERNAL RACKET AT ONCE!" he shouted, his fury tinged with panic, "YOU'LL HAVE THE WHOLE BLOODY NEIGHBORHOOD LISTENING!"

Harry seized the moment, and dashed out of the room, shoving Dudley out of the way as he passed.

"STOP!" came the magical, booming voice. But Harry had higher orders. He was halfway down the stairs, when he was jerked abruptly backwards – Dudley had grabbed his shirt sleeve and was scowling at him triumphantly.

Without thinking, Harry balled up his fist, reached it way back, and gave Dudley a sock in the nose that sat him promptly on the steps. He looked twice as shocked as he was hurt.

"Sorry," he called back over his shoulder, but he couldn't help reflecting as he flung the Floo Powder into the grate, that he had wanted to do that since primary school.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" he whispered.

"WE WILL BE FORCED TO STUN YOU --"

"ACCIO TRUNKS!" he shouted, and stepped into the grate.

*********************************************************************

The first thing that happened, after the spinning had stopped, was he was propelled directly onto Ron Weasley's back.

"Gerroff!" Ron muttered, his nose squashed into the kitchen floor of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Immediately after, Harry's trunk full of schoolbooks and clothes shot out of the fireplace and opened, spilling books and clothing over the two boys before landing neatly in Fred and George's outstretched arms.

"Harry! Ron!" cried Hermione, "Are you alright?"

"Quite an entrance, boys," Dumbledore said, smiling.

Harry picked himself up gingerly only to find himself nearly knocked over by an anxious Hermione.

"Oh HARRY, why on Earth would you--"

"Let him breathe, Hermione!" Ron said, picking himself up, only to find himself muffled by her bushy hair as she flung her arms around his neck. A moment later, however, she seemed to realize what she had done, and the two quickly stepped back from each other.

"Alright, Harry?" grinned Fred. "In trouble already?"

"Yeah, well, you know me," Harry said grudgingly. He looked at Dumbledore guiltily, "I've made a right pig's ear out of it now, haven't I?"

"I'm sure you had a very important reason," Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes penetrating Harry. Did he already know about the dream?

"Yes, Harry, what did happen?," Hermione said, wringing her hands. "I mean, you've already run into so much trouble with the Ministry, there must have been some reason that you--"

"I'll tell you later," Harry said, distractedly, and suddenly, he looked over his shoulder to see Bill and Lupin sitting at the table.

"Hey Harry," Bill grinned. Lupin, however, just smiled gently, and said "Hello, Harry," in what Harry felt was a rather too-quiet voice. Harry smiled and nodded awkwardly, but for some reason he didn't feel as happy as he'd thought he would to see Lupin. Lupin, however, seemed either not to notice or was simply ignoring this, because he turned to Dumbledore abruptly and said, "Well, what's the plan?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "You, Ron, and Hermione will lay low here for a while. Some of your friends will be joining you shortly. I will have to go meet with Fudge, but first, I need to speak to you alone."

"Of course," Harry said, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Remus, perhaps you could procure a late night snack for Miss Granger and the Weasley boys?"

"Sure," Lupin replied.

"Harry, if you'd follow me." Harry followed Dumbledore into the hall, and up the creaking stairs, careful to tiptoe past the curtained painting of Sirius's mother. He felt a sudden pang as he realized that the very last of the Blacks was now...

"Stop," he said aloud.

Dumbledore turned and looked at Harry with an expression of mild surprise.

"Oh, sorry," Harry muttered, "Not...nothing."

Dumbledore continued to peer into his eyes for a moment, then smiled the same gentle smile as Lupin, and turned to continue mounting the stairs. Harry felt the same small surge of resentment he'd felt when he saw Lupin. The last thing he needed was pity.

At last they arrived in the room he and Ron had shared last summer, and over the Christmas while Mr. Weasley was in the hospital.

"Ah, Headmaster. And the man of the hour himself. Well done, young hero, very noble. Perhaps, if you made a concerted effort, you could make life for all concerned even more difficult than we presently find it."

"Phineas," Dumbledore said quietly to the portrait of a sallow unpleasant- looking man, "Perhaps you could visit your other portrait for the next hour or so." It was clearly not a suggestion, and Phineas swished abruptly out of the frame.

There was a long silence in which Harry looked at the Headmaster's back, waiting for him to begin asking questions. After a while, he got tired of standing there waiting and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you quite alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.

"Yes. Fine," he replied instantly. Dumbledore turned to face him and smiled the same gentle smile.

"Well, now that that's settled," he said, "How are you really?"

Anger surged up in Harry again, but by now he had learned to control it. "I'm fine. if I wasn't I'd tell you."

"I am only concerned, Harry," Dumbledore replied, "Because I don't quite believe you would. After all, you haven't in the past, even when you were quite upset or worried."

"Well, I'm fine, and I wish everyone would stop treating me as though I might break into pieces if they were to speak above a whisper," Harry said crossly.

"It is not only out of personal concern," Dumbledore said patiently, "Although please believe me, we are all quite concerned for you on a deeply personal level. I need to know how you are handling Sirius's death, Harry. It's very important that you tell me what you are feeling."

The words stung more than he had expected. No one has said Sirius's name in months. He himself had not said it in months. In fact, every time the name crossed his mind, he canceled it out, deleted it.

"Sirius..." he muttered, and in saying the name, he was suddenly flooded with the image of Sirius smiling at him from his parent's wedding photo, smiling at him as he handed him a butterbeer, placing his big black paws on his shoulders as he left for school...his eyes swam, and he held his breath.

"If you would like to cry, Harry--"

"NO!" shouted Harry, "I would very much like NOT to cry!" He was on his feet as though he were catapulted from the bed. "I don't know why this is so difficult for everyone to understand! I don't WANT to cry, no matter how 'good for me' it would be! I don't like wallowing about being miserable and useless. Flooding Grimmauld Place with tears isn't going to bring Sirius back! Crying never got anyone what they wanted. So if that's all you brought me up here to ask, you needn't have bothered."

Dumbledore sighed.

"It is true, Harry, wallowing in misery and refusing to relinquish the past never got anyone anywhere. However, to deny the past entirely equally prevents us from living fully in the present. We don't have to talk about Sirius anymore. Just know that when you are ready to talk about him, you are always welcome to talk to me."

"Well, I'll bear it in mind," Harry said crossly.

"I will simply say that Sirius was forced out of your life against both of your wills. He would be very disappointed if you decided to force him out of your heart as well."

Harry could think of nothing to say, so he remained quiet.

"Now, tonight - why did you use the Floo Powder I gave you?"

"I had a dream. A nightmare. I just wanted to talk to Ron to make sure he and his family were alright."

"I see," Dumbledore said, "And was this just a dream? Or was it more real, like the vision you had of Mr. Weasley?"

"I suppose it was real enough," Harry said, "but like I said, I checked on it and everyone is fine."

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said, "For now. But I think you had better tell me everything you saw in your dream."

Harry explained as best he could, being sure to leave nothing out. As much as he and Dumbledore had not gotten along as well as they used to, he had learned one thing from six years at Hogwarts - tell Dumbledore everything, as soon as possible.

"I thought this might happen," Dumbledore said.

"Why," Harry said uncomfortably, "Do you think Voldemort is trying to get into my head again?"

"I wouldn't doubt it, Harry," Dumbledore said wearily, "Now that he is aware of this weapon, he will surely try to exploit it. And the more he is able to discover about you, the more likely he is to exploit it. I fear the Dursleys are not safe. We will require a secret keeper...and unfortunately, it will be required that you recommence your Occlumency lessons."

"I'm not taking Occlumency with Snape again," Harry said determinedly.

"Professor Snape, Harry. Now I know the two of you have had your differences -"

"Had our differences?"

"But it is your responsibility. The Order is depending on both of you to work this out. I don't need to tell you, Harry, how important this is. You need to be able to separate yourself from Voldemort, while the divide between you and Professor Snape is just one of many that you will need to bridge in your lifetime. It is time you began to do so."

Harry sighed. He didn't think that he would ever...what was it? "Bridge a divide" between himself and Professor Snape, but he could at least stomach some more Occlumency lessons for the good of the Order.

"I understand Professor."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry. This time, rather than feel annoyed, Harry felt heartened.

"I have always been able to depend on you Harry. It is both a tremendous comfort and a source of guilt to me. You should not have to shoulder all that you have."

"It's not that much," Harry said, "I'm alright." At a look from Dumbledore he continued, "Well, alright, I guess it is. But we've all got a lot on our hands right now."

"Yes, indeed we do Harry. And speaking of which, it is time I went to see Fudge. Oh, and I believe you will have a letter waiting for you in the kitchen. In addition," he continued, "You will need to choose a secret- keeper for the Durlsey home. And Harry," he said, peering at him over his glasses, "Do choose carefully. History tells us that this will be an important decision for you."

Harry thought darkly of Peter Pettigrew, of how he had betrayed both Sirius and his parents, had betrayed them all, really. He nodded grimly.

"And Harry," said Dumbledore, "Do try to enjoy being with your friends again."

And with a friendly nod, and a loud crack, Dumbledore had Apparated.

*********************************************************************** Harry sighed deeply, and was about to reach for the doorknob when there was a timid knock on the door.

"Excuse me," Hermione's timid voice came, "Professor Dumbledore? Harry?"

"It's fine, Hermione, come on in."

"Excellent," Ron said, pushing the door open and barging in. He threw an arm around Harry and slapped him on the back a few times. "Never got a proper hello, did we?" he grinned.

"Hi Ron," Harry said, slapping back and grinning. Dumbledore was right - it was great to see his friends again after being isolated for so long.

"How was your summer?" Hermione asked, and there was an awkward pause. "Well, I mean...you know."

"It was alright," Harry said hesitantly with a shrug.

"Listen, Harry, Ron's told me all about your dream...what did Dumbledore have to say?"

"I've got to start taking Occlumency with Snape again," Harry said darkly.

"Well Harry, I can't say that I'm surprised," Hermione said sympathetically, "I mean, it really is-"

"-For the good of the Order, I know. Tell me about your summers," Harry said. He'd had enough politics and subterfuge and strife. It was time to relax for a while.

"Well, I've been studying, of course," Hermione said, as though it should be perfectly obvious. "I've been reading up on Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I also wanted to get a jump on studying for the N.E.W.T.S. And I've been VERY active with S.P.E.W."

"Knitting no doubt," Ron said dryly.

"For your information," Hermione said sniffily, "Dumbledore thinks it is a good idea to develop better relations between wizards and magical creatures, particularly with V-Voldemort returning to power. You saw how influential Kreacher was in--"

"Don't say that name to me," Harry said stiffly. "Oh, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes wide, "I'm sorry, you know I didn't—" "Drop it, Hermione," Ron said quietly. "Where is...that..." Harry stammered angrily. "Dead," Ron said, "Old age, we think. We found him with his arms around Bellatrix's photo and an old blanket – we think it may have been from Mrs. Black's room. He had a note by him too...It's like he knew it was his time or something..." Hermione shuddered visibly. "What is it?" Harry asked. "Well, I don't know if you noticed, but...er..." "His head," Ron said darkly, "It's up on the wall." Harry's mouth dropped open, "Are you serious?" "It was in the note," Ron said, "His last request." "I should think," Harry said tensely, "That honoring Kreacher's requests would not be among Dumbledore's top priorities." "No, it was Lupin," said Ron. "Said that Kreacher just didn't know any better." "Didn't know any better?" Harry said, a bit too loudly. Hermione looked stricken. "Harry," she said, "I know what he did was downright evil, no one is excusing it. But Kreacher couldn't help what he was. He was made that way by the hateful people that kept him –" "So Sirius was hateful, was he?" snapped Harry. "Of course not," Hermione said. "So just his family was, then?" "Well, yeah, mate" Ron said, "It's nothing against Sirius. I mean, look at the Dursleys—" "Well maybe the Dursleys aren't as bad as I said," Harry said angrily, even though he felt stupid for saying it. As much as he didn't like the Dursleys, he couldn't help remembering Aunt Petunia grabbing his ankle, or the way Uncle Vernon had shielded Aunt Petunia from Lucius Malfoy... "Err, right...well, whatever you say, mate, we didn't mean...Hermione?" Ron stammered. "We didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Harry," Hermione said awkwardly. "It's alright. So what are you doing with S.P.E.W.?" "Well, not much unfortunately," Hermione said sadly, "I mean, I've been writing letter campaigns to the Ministry of Magic, trying to get some signatures on a petition, and making a list of old wizarding families that still keep house elves, but it's slow going, especially being stuck with my parents for the summer. Don't get me wrong," she added defensively, "I love them to death, and there's NOTHING wrong with having Muggle parents...it's just, you know...hard to stay in the loop with the wizarding world." "Well, maybe you'll have more luck at Hogwarts," Harry said helpfully, but secretly, he had a feeling that wouldn't be the case – after all, when had S.P.E.W. ever really been effective? "How about you, Ron?" "Well, it's been a bit mad at home," Ron said, "What with Fred and George joining the Order and all—" "They what?!" "Yeah," said Ron, "Well they've been waiting till they were of age, weren't they? And now that they are, there's not much Mum can do to stop them, though she certainly tried. Turns out they've been helping out with their Wizarding Wheezes, actually." "They have?" "Sure," Ron said excitedly, "Actually, some of the stuff they've come up with is pretty cool. Tonks and Kinglsey have been using the Extendable Ears at work, and now they've invented something like a Polyjuice Snackbox...but they daren't sell them," he added, "They're only for the Order." "How does it work?" Harry asked eagerly. "Well," Hermione said, "Exactly the same as regular Polyjuice Potion – except they've condensed the potion into a pill, and coated it with sugar so there's no taste. Plus, the effects remain until you take the other half of the pill. It's quite brilliant, actually" she added grudgingly. "And you thought it was a waste of money!" Ron said triumphantly. "I never thought it was a waste of money...only of time and energy," Hermione said rolling her eyes, "But I suppose..." "Suppose what?" Ron said, smirking. "That...the situation turned out differently than I had expected." "Meaning that you were..." "Surprised." "Nooo..." Ron said, smirking, "I'll give you a hint, it starts with a 'wr'...'wr'..." "ANYway," Hermione said coolly, "We should go downstairs, Harry...there's a school owl down there waiting for us." *********************************************************************** The three friends walked down the staircase, tiptoeing so as not to wake up Mrs. Black. Harry had the odd realization that she was completely alone in the world now. He wasn't sure whether he felt sad or satisfied by this. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he passed by the row of house-elf heads. Sure enough, there was Kreacher's despicable, wrinkled mug, mounted in perpetuity on his very own plaque. Harry had a very strong urge to punch it. Suddenly, he bumped right into Hermione, who bumped right into Ron, who had bumped right into George. "Shhh!" George hissed quietly, and handed over an extendable ear. They all dangled the flesh-colored strings over the railing, and heard Bill's voice... "—but if, in essence, it is divided, then Harry is the one to put it back together again." The phrase seemed to ring a bell with Harry. "But how?" Lupin's voice came, "He's already been through too much, he's had far too much responsibility foisted on him as it is. To heal that Divide on his own? It's preposterous." "Well, of course not on his own," Bill continued, "That's the whole point isn't it? But where are they anyway?" "Why don't you call them?" Remus said. Hermione and George were fast enough to yank the strings out of their ears, but Fred, Harry, and Ron got the brunt of it. "HEY YOU THREE!!!!!!" Bill's voice boomed in their ear. Harry ripped the string out of it, holding a hand to his ear. He could hear ringing, and it felt like someone had shoved a cotton ball into it quite forcefully. "Coming!" Hermione said. "Did he have to yell so loudly?" Ron griped. "Well, it wasn't all that loud, really," Hermione said, "It's just the Ears were—" "Come on," Harry said impatiently, I bet we got our O.W.L.s" ********************************************************************** They all entered the kitchen to find Remus conducting a large butcher knife, which was slicing some ham, as bread, lettuce, tomato, and mustard whizzed over paper plates. Several consterned owls, including Hedwig, were huddled near the stove, eyeing the flying lunchmeats with suspicion. "Almost set here," he smiled. "Brilliant," said Fred. "We're starving!" said George, "Is that Mum's ham?" "Yes," said Remus, "She said to start without them." "The Weasleys are coming?" Harry said, happily. "Sure," said Ron, "Dumbledore said to bring the whole family. He wants us to spend the night here, just to see it's all clear, and then tomorrow you'll come with us to the Burrow. But it's not for long," he said sadly, as Harry's face lit up. "Dumbledore decided that it would be a better idea for you to return to the Dursleys after all, for the last few weeks – you know, you're protected there, and besides, all the moving around will make it more difficult for V...Voldemort to trace you." Harry smiled at Hermione. She had begun to use the name quite frequently. She smiled back. Ron took an overlarge bite of sandwich and coughed. "W-we should read our OWLS, don't you think?" Hermione abruptly bounded over to the stove, and collected all the letters. At once, the three large barn owls shot out of the room, seeking at open window, while Hedwig fluttered over to Harry at the kitchen table, dropped a letter in front of him, and helped herself to a nibble off of his sandwich. "Harry, that's from the Ministry," Remus said, his brow knitting, "You'd better open that one first." Harry opened the letter, and read aloud: Dear Mr. Potter,

I have sent this message with your own owl, recovered at your place of residence at Privet Drive, in the hopes that it will be able to determine your current location.

We have received intelligence that you performed the following charms this evening, between the hours of four and five am:

Vanishing Charm Flame Charm Silencing Charm

After completion of which, a warrant was issued in order to detain you for questioning. However, you not only resisted arrest by Agents of the Improper Use of Magic Office, Division for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, but proceeded to use a Summoning Charm before exiting the building via an unregistered Floo Fire.

As you have already received a warning for a previous offense (a Hover Charm) under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizard's Statue of Secrecy, and were already tried at a disciplinary hearing for the same offense (A Patronus) before the Wizengamot at the Ministry of Magic on August 12th of last year, we regret to inform you that it is the intention of Magical Law Enforcement Officials to incarcerate you, as soon as the Ministry is able to effectively determine your precise location.

It would be most helpful if you would alert us to said location.

Hoping to see you soon.

Yours sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk Improper Use of Magic Office Ministry of Magic

Harry fell silent, and his insides gave an uncomfortable squirm. It looked certain that he was headed for Azkaban. "Oh, go on Harry," Ron said, though he looked equally nervous, "You got off last time." "All the more reason to convict me this time," he said miserably. "Wow, Harry," said Fred amiably, "You're getting almost as good as we are at getting into trouble." "Fine work," said George clapping him on the shoulder, "Proud of you, mate!" "Well, the good news is they don't know where you are," Hermione said, ignoring them briskly, "And it sounds like they're having a time trying to figure it out. And besides, Harry," she said sympathetically, "Dumbledore's never let us down yet. He wouldn't let you go to Azkaban." "Right," Harry said, unconvinced, but unwilling to debate it further. "Well, there's nothing to do about it right now," said Remus measuredly, "So why don't you open your OWLS, then?" Harry was grateful to Remus for the diversion. Besides, he could see Hermione's itchy fingers toying with the edge of the envelope. Ron, on the other hand, hadn't touched his, and had gone a bit pale. "It's like ripping off a plaster, mate," Harry said, grinning at Ron, "You're going to have to do it eventually. Might as well get it over with." "Right," Ron said. They all grabbed their envelopes. "On three, then?" Hermione said, cheerfully. Ron looked as though he were going to vomit slugs. "One..." said Harry. "Two," said Hermione. "Two and three quarters?" Ron grimaced. "Three!" The three friends tore open the envelopes. For a moment there was silence as they all read. Harry scanned his letter: Dear Mr. Potter,

I have just received your official transcripts from the Wizarding Examination Authority, and will retain that copy in your file, but I am pleased to report your grades to you:

Charms Theory: O Charms Practical: E Owl: Yes

Transfiguration Theory: O Transfiguration Practical: E Owl: Yes

Herbology Theory: O Herbology Practical: O Owl: Yes

Defense Against the Dark Arts Theory: O Defense Against the Dark Arts Practical: O* Owl: Honors

Potions Theory: O Potions Practical: E Owl: Yes

Divination Theory: P Divination Practical: D Owl: No

Care of Magical Creatures Theory: O* Care of Magical Creatures Practical: O* Owl: High Honors

Astronomy Theory: A Astronomy Practical: A Owl: Yes

History of Magic (Theory Only): P Owl: No

With regards to your choice of career, here are your required courses for the semester: Charms Transfiguration Defense Against the Dark Arts Potions History of Magic

And you may select three of the following as electives. Simply tap your choice with your wand, and the required reading materials will be added to your booklist:

Herbology Care of Magical Creatures Divination Astronomy Ancient Runes Arithmancy Muggle Studies

Looking forward to seeing you at the start of the term.

Sincerely, Professor McGonagall

At the bottom of the page, written in Professor McGonagall's scrawl, was a handwritten note in her trademark emerald green ink:

Mr. Potter, I was quite pleased with the results of your OWLS. It seems you are well on your way to being a fine Auror. Keep it up, Minerva McGonagall

Harry was beaming. He had been expecting the poor grades in Divination, and after he'd had that horrible vision in History of Magic – well, he hadn't really been expecting to do very well in that, either. But he had absolutely no D's, and had even managed Honors in Defense Against the Dark Arts! And High Honors in Care of Magical Creatures, although he suspected that Hagrid may have had some input on that front.

"Well?" Remus said, smiling.

Harry did a quick count.

"Seven," he replied, smiling.

"Alright!" said George.

"Well done Harry," said Remus, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

"Ooh, let me see, Harry," said Hermione jubilantly.

"I'll swap you," he said, grinning. He took a look at Hermione's page.

Dear Ms. Granger,

I have just received your official transcripts from the Wizarding Examination Authority, and will retain that copy in your file, but I am pleased to report your grades to you:

Charms Theory: O* Charms Practical: O* Owl: High Honors

Transfiguration Theory: O* Transfiguration Practical: O Owl: Honors

Herbology Theory: O* Herbology Practial: O* Owl: High Honors

Defense Against the Dark Arts Theory: O* Defense Against the Dark Arts Practical: O* Owl: High Honors

Potions Theory: O* Potions Practical: O Owl: Honors

Care of Magical Creatures Theory: O* Care of Magical Creatures Practical: O* Owl: High Honors

Astronomy Theory: O* Astronomy Practical: E Owl: Yes

History of Magic (Theory Only): O* Owl: High Honors

Hermione: Ancient Runes Reading: O* Speaking: O* Practical: O* Owl: High Honors

Arithmancy (Theory Only): O* Owl: High Honors

With regards to your choice of career, here are your required courses for the semester: Charms Transfiguration Defense Against the Dark Arts Potions Care of Magical Creatures

I would also thoroughly recommend you take Herbology, and History of Magic, as they will both come in quite handy.

You will find, Miss Granger, that this leaves you with only ONE elective to select from the list below, and I would ask that you PLEASE restrain yourself to one. If, however, you feel comfortable enough, you may select two. Three, however, is right out.

Simply tap your choice with your wand, and the required reading materials will be added to your booklist:

Muggle Studies Divination Astronomy Ancient Runes Arithmancy

Looking forward to seeing you at the start of the term.

Sincerely, Professor McGonagall

"Hermione," said Harry, stunned, "You've got ten OWLS!"

"TEN???" shouted George. Fred spat out his mouthful of butterbeer, and snatched the paper out of Harry's hands.

"Be careful!" Hermione said, but quickly quieted under George's glare.

"You've got seven High Honors and two Honors," George said disgustedly, as though accusing her of something very embarrassing.

"Well, I did miss that one for Astronomy," Hermione said modestly, but her eyes were twinkling. Fred made a subtle gagging gesture as he walked behind George.

"That's fine work, Hermione," said Lupin, "Your parents are going to be very proud of you."

"Alright ickle Ronniekins, you'd better turn out to be more of a disappointment than this lot, or I'm going to disown you," said George.

But Ron had gone rather green, and was staring as though transfixed at the letter he held in his hands.

"Ron...how'd you do?" said Hermione, feigning casual curiosity.

Harry quietly reached up and tugged gently on the paper. Ron didn't release it at first. Then he looked up, startled, and made eye contact with Harry. The green was tinged by a slight flush, and he released the paper.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

I have just received your official transcripts from the Wizarding Examination Authority, and will retain that copy in your file. Here are your grades.

Charms Theory: A Charms Practical: A Owl: Yes

Transfiguration Theory: E Transfiguration Practical: A Owl: Yes

Herbology Theory: O Herbology Practical: O* Owl: Honors

Defense Against the Dark Arts Theory: O Defense Against the Dark Arts Practical: O Owl: Yes

Potions Theory: A Potions Practical: A Owl: No

Divination Theory: D Divination Practical: D Owl: No

Care of Magical Creatures Theory: O* Care of Magical Creatures Practical: O* Owl: High Honors

Astronomy Theory: P Astronomy Practical: P Owl: No

History of Magic (Theory Only): P Owl: No

With regards to your choice of career, here are the courses that would be required for the semester: Charms Transfiguration Defense Against the Dark Arts Potions History of Magic

I am sure that you have noticed however, that you have not attained the necessary number of OWLS, nor the necessary grade levels to make this career a possibility. You will need to meet with me for another consultation.

It is possible, however, that you will be able to pull your grades up significantly this year, in which case, you would be considered for the NEWT level courses you would require for your career choice (I am speaking particularly about your Potions and Charms work.) However, it is my advice that you also begin considering a second career choice.

You may select three of the following as electives. Simply tap your choice with your wand, and the required reading materials will be added to your booklist:

Herbology Care of Magical Creatures Divination Astronomy Ancient Runes Arithmancy Muggle Studies

Looking forward to seeing you at the start of the term.

Sincerely, Professor McGonagall

Mr. Weasley, I know that this will probably come as a disappointment to you. Still, you have attained five OWLS with both an Honors and a High Honors OWL. That is more than many Hogwarts students could claim this year, and I am sure your parents and friends will be very proud of you. As far as your chosen career, it is my experience that when a door closes, a window opens. And remember, you have done Gryffindor proud in ways that are completely unconnected to your academics – Professor Dumbledore is fond of saying you can put a grade on an OWL, but not a Wizard. Keep working hard, and you just might get into those NEWT levels in Year Seven. Chin up, Minerva McGonagall.

"Alright then!" said George, thumping Ron on the back, "Well done!"

"Finally," said Fred, eyeing Hermione and Harry over Ron's shoulder, "A true friend who doesn't try to make us look too bad!"

"Boys..." said Lupin, for Ron had gone quite red, and was studying the kitchen floor very intensely.

"Ron," said Harry, "It's alright...I mean, you got five OWLS! That's not bad, and you've even got High Honors, look—"

"Whatever," Ron said, "It's only because of Hagrid."

"And Herbology!" said Hermione a little too cheerfully, "That was all on your own!"

"Herbology's for duffers," said Ron loudly, "I only got Honors because it's easy."

"I don't think the people who failed Herbology would feel that way," said Lupin gently, "You still did better than a lot of people who—"

"Look, it doesn't matter anyway, because—" and he broke off. There was a very long pause where he held his breath. "Forget it."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other miserably. Even Fred and George seemed very abashed, and they took large bites of their sandwiches. Somehow, the fact that they couldn't find anything funny to say made it all seem much worse.

Lupin slid a fresh butterbeer across the table. "You know," he said, "Dumbledore always used to say, that you can put a grade on an OWL, but you can't—"

"Just!...just...nevermind," Ron said angrily, "You know for once, I thought maybe – just – nevermind!" and he sat with a thump at the table and bit half of his sandwich off in one bite, and somehow managed to take a swig of butterbeer with it.

Harry went back to his sandwich. The mood was considerably darker.

"So, er, Hermione," Harry ventured, "What was your career choice?"

"Oh," she said, "I've been thinking of—"

But just then a large barn owl swooped in, and landed in front of Harry with another Ministry letter.

*********************************************************************

Grateful for the diversion, Harry seized the envelope.

"Wonder what this is about?" he said loudly and concernedly.

"Better open it, Harry," said Hermione unnecessarily, for he had already begun opening it.

Everyone seemed very relieved to take a deep breath and stare very hard at Harry. He opened the letter, and read aloud:

Dear Mr. Potter,

Further to our letter of approximately ten minutes ago, Albus Dumbledore has arrived at the Ministry of Magic, and is currently discussing the situation with Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, Agents of the Improper Use of Magic office, and myself.

He has instructed you to remain where you are, at said undisclosed location, and wishes to alert you that further updates are impending.

As of this moment, it is still the intention of the Ministry to arrange a disciplinary hearing before the Wizengamot, which would ultimately lead to your incarceration.

Hoping you are well.

Mafalda Hopkirk Improper Use of Magic Office Ministry of Magic

"Well," said Lupin, sounding a bit amused, "We knew Dumbledore would come to the rescue. Sounds as if—"

But yet another brown owl had landed on the table.

"What's this one?" Harry said.

"It's another one from the Ministry!" said Fred. "Wow, you must really have them annoyed!" said George.

Harry dubiously opened the envelope and began to read again.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Further to our letter of approximately two minutes ago, the Ministry has waived all warrants currently issued against you. There will be no disciplinary hearing.

It is also the inexplicable decision of the Minister to allow Albus Dumbledore to grant certain of his students waivers which would allow them to perform magic outside of Hogwarts School strictly for defensive purposes, or Official Hogwarts Business, (the circumstances of which must be submitted in writing to the Minister of Magic) and has issued said permits to various Hogwarts students, including yourself, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, which you will find reluctantly enclosed.

The Obliviators have been dispatched to your neighborhood, the Minister is furious, and I and my entire team are under review.

I hope you are amused.

Sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk Improper Use of Magic Office Ministry of Magic

They couldn't help it. Harry and Hermione and Ron all looked at each other and began to chuckle. Fred and George soon joined in, and the fog of doom that had surrounded Ron's OWLS lifted and dispersed.

"I'm starving," Ron said, tucking into the last few bites of his sandwich.

"You finished that one fast enough," Hermione said, but her eyes were twinkling.

"Well, tuck in," said Lupin, his eyes shining merrily at Harry, "And then you lot should probably get some rest."

Just then, the fireplace flashed green, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came stooping out of the fire.

"Hi Mum, Dad!" chorused the Weasleys.

"Hello Mr. Weasley, Mrs. We--"

"It's Molly, dear! You can certainly call me Molly by now," said Mrs. Weasley patting Hermione on the head, "And Harry dear..."

She crossed the room and mashed Harry's head into her bosom, petting his hair and tutting.

"Errr..."

"It's just wonderful to see you, Harry."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley..."

"Molly dear, Molly," she said fondly.

"Hello Harry! Good lord, you've grown a bit, haven't you? Stand next to Ron."

The two boys stood up next to each other and Harry was surprised to see that he had to look up a bit further than usual to meet Ron's eyes.

"Well now! Looks like you have too, Ron!"

"Our Ickle Ronniekins isn't so ickle anymore!" said Fred, batting his eyelashes dotingly.

"It'll be a wonder if you can still get on a broomstick!" said George.

Ron's eyes lit up a bit more. "Oooh! Mum, Dad, can we ride our brooms for a --"

"Absolutely not!" said Mrs. Weasley sternly, "That's all we need, is you flying about above the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!"

"Oh...right," Ron said sadly.

"Don't worry dear, we'll all be heading to the Burrow tomorrow, you can play Quidditch then. Now--"

But she stopped mid-sentence, having spied the open envelopes littering the table.

"Oh Ronnie," she whispered.

"Five," he said mopily.

"Oh! Ronnie!" she said happily, "Well that's -- that's just fine."

"Not 'fine' enough for Auror though, is it?" he said moodily.

"Oh, Ronnie," Mrs. Weasley began.

"Stop saying that!" Ron said irritably. There was an ominous pause.

"Err, sorry," he said, "I'm just...you know."

"I know you had your heart set on being an Auror, son," said Mr. Weasley sitting down and taking a bite out of Lupin's sandwich without seeming to realize it, "But I only got six OWLS, and look at me! I found a great job!"

"Er..Yeah, Dad," Ron said, smiling at his Dad. Harry new that Ron would rather eat his own left foot than work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, but he also knew that he would never look down on his father the way Percy had.

"Well!" said Mrs. Weasley, "How about you two?"

"Seven," Harry reported.

"Ten," said Hermione, a bit embarrassed.

"Oh my goodness!" said Mrs. Weasley, "well, we shall have to arrange a little something at the Burrow for tomorrow night! I think a nice family dinner is in order - and speaking of which, perhaps we should invite the rest of the Order - we've all been so busy, it would be nice to be all in the same place for once."

Harry smiled, and yawned at the same time. As though contagious, Ron and Hermione soon followed.

"Look at you three! Right!" said Mrs. Weasley, "Off to bed with you! You can have a nice nap before dinner. And no talking!" she said, eyeing them suspiciously, "You'll have plenty of time to catch up!"

For once Harry was grateful for Mrs. Weasley's interference...while he would have loved to spend the time chatting with Ron and Hermione, he could barely keep his eyes open. He reflected that less than a day ago, he had had that horrible dream, and was chased out of his home by the Ministry of Magic.

The three friends rose from the table, bid goodnight to everyone, and mounted the stairs sleepily.

"Well, have a good sleep you two," said Hermione.

"Don't be daft!" said Ron, "Crash with us. We'll push the beds together and sleep sideways."

"Oh, I couldn't," said Hermione politely, "I'll just head up to our room...Ginny's already napping up there."

"Suit yourself," said Ron. He sounded casual, yet a bit deliberately so. Harry smiled to himself.

Minutes later, he and Ron had kicked off their jeans, and each were snuggling under their crisp, cool, unused sheets. The house still had a bit of a stale, musty smell, but was cool, and dark, and clean now.

"She's looking well, isn't she?" said Ron, "A bit taller."

"Yeah," said Harry. He hadn't intended to notice, but Hermione's shirts were...well, not quite fitting as they used to.

"Yeah," Ron said, yawning, "Taller."

Harry drifted off to sleep.

********************************************************************* In his dream, Harry was looking into the Mirror of Erised. He saw himself standing with Ron and Hermione. They were smiling, and Hermione had flowers in her hair. Harry smiled, and put an arm over each of their shoulders. Suddenly though, his face began to shift. It became blank and white, with red eyes, and slits for nostrils. His long, bony fingers clutched the meat of Ron's arm, and Hermione's shoulder. They began to struggle in vain to get away from him. A triumphant laugh emerged from his thin, bloodless lips, even as the panic welled within him. Suddenly, Sirius emerged from the shadows, gliding over to him, his expression surprised and fixed, his head inclined at an odd angle.

"Why did you kill me, Harry?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, his scar prickling. He heard the last remnants of a high, cold laugh dying in his ears.

He listened for another few minutes, but all he could hear was Ron snoring quietly across the room. There was a quiet tap on the door.

"Boys?...Boys?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Time for dinner. Wake Ron up, would you dear?"

"Sure."

The footsteps receded. Harry took a deep breath, and pressed his palm into his scar.

"GO AWAY," he thought as clearly as possible, "YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE."

He took another deep breath, and tried to empty himself of all thought, all feeling. All he felt was even more anger and anxiety.

He stared at the blank, dingy wall across the room, and imagined a rock in the center of his mind. With each breath he drew, an ocean wave swept over it, wearing it down, and with each exhale, he imagined just a tiny bit of his worry and anger being eroded away with it.

The prickling in his scar slowly faded. Giving himself a mental pat on the back (and reflecting that Occlumency was much easier without Snape looming over him like a murderous old bat) he sat up in bed, reached over with his foot, and kicked Ron gently in the rump.

"NNnngg....Gerroff, Ginny," Ron muttered.

"It's Harry, mate. Come on, time for dinner."

They arrived in the kitchen, hair mussed and smacking their lips, to find the entire Weasley clan, Remus, and Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, which was groaning under the weight of a large turkey curry, buttermilk biscuits, and bangers and mash.

"Oh, good boys, now sit down so we can tuck in."

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting," Harry said, hurrying to his chair.

"Relax," Ron said, grinning, "It's just us."

"You're with family, Harry," Mr. Weasley said warmly.

Harry felt something warm shift in his chest. For a moment he felt as though he would cry, but quickly stamped the impulse.

"Thanks," he said.

"Well, don't stand on ceremony! Dig in!" said Mrs. Weasley. They all set to with a will, and for a few minutes, all that could be heard was the clink of silverware, chewing, and groans of appreciation.

"Oi," said George, nudging Harry in the ribs, "Mind if we see your booklist? We didn't get any this year."

"THAT," said Mrs. Weasley, "is because you saw fit not to RETURN and FINISH your seventh year..."

"Muuuuum," said Fred, "We've been through all this..."

"Perhaps later, dear," said Mr. Weasley. Then, before she could open her mouth, he said, "Hermione, would you be so kind as to pass the biscuits? Molly, you've really outdone yourself here – this is enough for ten people!"

"Well, Arthur, if you were to count on your fingers, I think you'd see there are ten of us," she said wryly. George snorted into his butterbeer.

"Yes, well, still," Mr. Weasley said, going a bit red, "Well done."

"That booklist, Harry?" George asked.

"Here you go," Harry said, laying it flat on the table between them.

Booklist: Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 N.E.W.T. Level Transfiguration, W.E.A. edition Practical Defensive Magic, by Haydn Kauer Practical Hex Work, by Amy Fyre The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord, by A.P. Herodites N.E.W.T. Level Potions, W.E.A. edition

"Why do you want it?" he asked.

"To see what the Defense books are this year. Trying to figure out who the new Defense teacher is."

"Would you pass the curry, Molly?" said Remus politely. Harry thought there was something strange in the way he asked it.

"Hmmm...well, whoever it is means business," said Fred, "Look, 'Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord...' No Ministry officials here!"

"Errr..." said Lupin.

"Ooo! Maybe Dumbledore himself will be teaching it!" squirmed Ginny happily.

"Anything would be better than Umbridge," Ron said.

"Err..."

"Too right!" said George thumping the table, "Old bat."

"Though she did provide some fine opportunities for mischief making."

"Ooo, reminds me – Harry, did they ever clear the swamp?" George asked, his eyes shining.

"Ahem," Lupin said a bit louder. Harry and the rest turned to look at him, and Harry caught Mr. and Mrs. Weasley grinning at each other in the quiet.

"Oh, you're joking!" shrieked Hermione happily, and Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"What? Who's joking?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"I...errr...well, Dumbledore has been...so kind as to..." Remus stammered.

"But I thought they wouldn't let you come back!" Ron shouted, catching on.

"And you told me," Harry said, "That you didn't want to come back – you were afraid to put the students in danger."

"Well, yes, of course," Lupin said, seemingly gratified that they were so pleased, "But times have changed, Harry. With the return of the Dark Lord being made public by the Ministry, nobody would touch the job with a ten foot pole. And it seems," he smiled, "that many of my former students have been saying nice things to their parents about me, and some of those parents are on the School Council. At least they seem to have decided that with Voldemort on the loose, it's better to have a werewolf teaching Defense than to have no one teaching it at all."

"Oh, Snape is going to have kittens!" George said joyfully.

Ginny nearly sprayed her pumpkin juice across the table.

"Ginny dear," Mrs. Weasley admonished, handing her a napkin.

"Well, yes," Lupin said, smiling, "That is one of the many job perks. But I did have to agree to leave the school every full moon," he added seriously.

"The Shrieking Shack?" Hermione ventured.

"Err...no," Lupin said quietly.

"Why not?" she asked, puzzled. There was an awkward silence.

"I don't much...care to see the Shrieking Shack...ever again."

There was a palpable quiet, in which Mrs. Weasley put her hand over Lupin's and patted it gently.

"Well, perhaps you could just lock yourself in your office then?" Harry ventured.

"No. Hagrid offered to let me stay in his cabin, but I think it is best if I leave school grounds entirely. I will most likely take Floo Powder back here, to Grimmauld place. As long as I take my potion, I should be fine. Speaking of which," he added, turning to the Weasleys, "Please don't let Severus forget to leave my regular dosage on the stove."

"Of course not," Arthur said cheerfully.

"Severus?" Ron said, wiltingly, "You mean Snape is coming here tonight?"

"Professor Snape," said Lupin and the Weasleys simultaneously.

"Right, whatever, he coming, then?"

"Yes," said Lupin smiling, "But I daresay you'll be asleep by the time he arrives."

Harry's blood chilled a bit at the mention of Snape. "Still [I]spying,[/I] then, is he? Sneaking about Voldemort, sniffing at his pants legs?" he spat, bitterly.

Everyone at the table seemed taken aback – it was not only that Harry had said The Name, he had spoken with such sudden vehemence.

"Well, in a word, yes," Lupin said, "That is his job, Harry."

"Sometimes I don't wonder if he likes his job," Harry muttered under his breath.

"This isn't really dinner conversation," Mrs. Weasley said firmly, "Hermione! Congratulations again on your OWLS, dear."

"Oh, really?" Bill said, his fang jangling in his ear as he turned to look at her, "How'd you do, Hermione?"

"It's not really..." Hermione began to mutter.

"Ten!"Mrs. Weasley effused, "With Honors, and High Honors!"

"Well done!" said Charlie. Hermione blushed.

"You'd think she was her daughter," Ron muttered under his breath, but only Harry seemed to hear him.

"And how'd you do, Ron?" asked Charlie.

"Honors and High Honors!" Mr. Weasley beamed, "Five OWLS!"

"Really? Well, Ron, that's good solid work!" Charlie said. Harry smiled – he had a feeling Charlie hadn't gotten a heck of a lot of OWLS either, but he hadn't met anyone with a more gregarious nature. Ron would be fine – he would find a career that suited him, just like Charlie.