Author Notes: I want to thank my ever wonderful beta, Moriah S., for all her hard work. To my readers, I hope you enjoy the story. This one is complete and I'll load chapters often. I hope to start a sequel in January. All constructive comments and suggestions are most welcome. Happy ficcing!


HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter One- The Gathering Storm

The night was dark and sultry with impending rain. Since late afternoon, the dark clouds had been gathering, fitful gusts of wind tossing the trees of Privet Drive. Now, at nearly one in the morning, the winds had stilled and everything was hot and hushed, waiting for the storm to break.

The windows of Number 4 were, at this hour, dark and shuttered. That is, all but one. One upper window, though dark, had its shutters flung wide and a boy sat at it, watching the gathering storm. The boy's dark hair stood wildly on end, as if the winds had already been at work inside the house. The pale face was visible in the faint green light of a luminous alarm clock. His features had the uncertain look of a boy whose physical maturity was making a desperate attempt at matching the emotional experience which showed in the deep green eyes below the thin, white scar. For this boy was Harry Potter and the somber expression in his eyes and the visible remains on his forehead of the failed killing curse were indications of how much it cost him to be the Boy Who Lived.

Harry had sat at this window every night for nearly a month now. He wasn't really expecting to see anything, although there had been a few owls from his friends bringing him whatever news there was to be had. No, mostly, Harry just sat and thought. At first, his mind replayed the sequence of events leading up to Sirius' disappearance through the veiled arch in the Department of Mysteries. However, after a week of hopeless brooding, even Harry had to admit there was nothing he could have done, nothing anyone could have done to prevent it. It was hopeless, pointless, and stupid, but Sirius was gone and there simply wasn't anything more to say.

Of course, that fact didn't fill the dark hole inside Harry. Even though he had never actually had much time with Sirius, he had come to think of his godfather as family even more his own than the Weasleys and certainly more than the Dursleys had ever been. Harry may have accepted that Sirius' death wasn't all his fault (though he wasn't entirely sure he had accepted it), but he still grieved deeply for the dynamic, restless man he had come to love almost as a father.

The turbulence of his feelings over the events of the past year was still painfully great. After nights of turning everything over in his mind, Harry had found some measure of comfort in Professor Dumbledore's confession after Sirius' death. There was still some anger over all that had been hidden from him for so long, but that was gradually fading into indignation and, Harry knew, would probably subside given more time. It would not, however, be forgotten. Harry couldn't help feeling gratitude toward Dumbledore for the affection and esteem the old headmaster had for him, but something had changed in the headmaster's office as the sun rose that desperate morning.

Once, Harry had held Albus Dumbledore in awe as an all-powerful and all-seeing presence - at once, guide and hope of survival for all the wizarding world. Now, however, the image had shifted. Dumbledore was still a powerful wizard and a force to be reckoned with, but he was no longer all. He was a great man, but a man, just the same, with strengths and failings like any other. With the knowledge of the prophecy came the knowledge that Harry could no longer dismiss his worries in the comfortable belief that as long as there was Dumbledore, all would be well. He had seen, first hand, that this couldn't be. Dumbledore had not been able to protect the school from Dolores Umbridge and that had nearly cost Professor McGonagall her life. Dumbledore had been in the same room as Sirius fell through the archway but there had been no miraculous magic to save him.

After that, Harry's thoughts turned to Voldemort and Professor Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Thanks to a few carefully selected, heavily charmed owls, there had been more news in the letters he received. From Hermione, Harry learned that members of the Order were on 24 hour guard at her family's home and would remain so indefinitely, even once Hermione had returned to Hogwarts. It was a real relief to Harry to know that Hermione and her parents wouldn't be left alone with Death Eaters on the move.

Ron was at The Burrow and, although Mrs. Weasley was expert at keeping her younger children out of earshot of Order business, Ron had seen enough comings and goings to know a little of what went on and he owled it all to Harry.

"...It seems like bloody chaos around here, really, Ron wrote. “Dad, Bill, and Charlie are in and out of here at all hours. They can't Disapparate or floo from the house because of the ward charms, so the they have to walk down to a safe place near the village. Bill is still working for Gringotts, but I think that really means he is working on the goblins. Can't say more here. Charlie is back home for the summer, but he'll go back to Romania in September. I don't know what he gets up to. The twins are running their joke shop in Diagon Alley and Lee Jordan is helping them. I guess sales have been pretty good. They're looking into adding an owl post order catalog. I'm still working on Mum and Dad to get you here to The Burrow soon. They're bound to crack. Mum worries herself sick over you with those muggles..."

There had even been an owl from Lupin. It was brief, just letting Harry know the Order had established new Headquarters and that all was well. Harry could tell Lupin didn't have the heart for chatty notes these days, but the last bit of his letter did make Harry smile.

"...Remember, Harry, what we told your relatives. If they aren't treating you well, send word to Mrs. Figg right away. I actually think Tonks is looking forward to getting news like that from you. I think she's been visiting the Weasley twins..."

However, tonight, the heavy gray sky above Privet Drive was owl free and even Hedwig had opted to cut short her nighttime roving and return to Harry's window before the rain.

So, as Harry watched the sky, he thought about Lupin's reminder. Surprisingly, the Dursleys had taken the threats of the older wizards rather well. There hadn't been any discussion of what was said at King's Cross. Harry had expected Uncle Vernon to have something to say - he generally had - but instead, he chose to ignore Harry altogether. Looking back, Harry couldn't remember a single word from Vernon Dursley directed at him all summer. This suited Harry rather well. Dudley, Harry's porky and brutish cousin, had mercifully copied his father's behavior toward Harry to the letter. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, had surprised him a good deal. True, she rarely spoke to Harry at all, but when she did, her tone was no worse than civil disinterest. In fact, there had been a few times, when Vernon and Dudley hadn't been around, when her voice warmed to near amiability and once, she nearly smiled. This last, most shocking, occurrence had been just before dawn about two weeks into summer holidays. Harry had been sitting, as usual, at his open window and had fallen asleep, his head resting on the sill. He started awake when he heard a slight movement behind him. He jerked upright and stared in bleary surprise at his Aunt Petunia. She almost never entered Harry's room so it was something of a shock.

"I, er, thought I felt a draft and figured you must have left your window open wide all night again," Aunt Petunia said, uncomfortably.

Harry stared dumbly and she went on, a little sharper this time.

"See that you at least close the screens each night. I won't have bugs buzzing about while we're trying to sleep."

She turned on her heel and marched to the door, pausing slightly as she drew the door shut behind her. "Try to get some sleep in a proper bed, Boy..." The door clicked shut and she was gone.

Harry didn't move - just sat looking in wonder after his aunt. Even now, nearly a fortnight later, he wasn't sure what he'd seen as he opened his eyes. When he started awake that morning, he thought he'd seen Aunt Petunia smiling as she watched him sleep.

Well, Harry reflected, as he watched the first drops of rain spatter on the walk below, it hasn't been so bad, really. Still, I hope someone can convince Dumbledore to get me out of here, soon.

Harry was anxious to be in the wizarding world again, to see something of what was going on. He had given up his subscription to The Daily Prophet in disgust nearly a year before and didn't see the point in resuming delivery this summer. It wasn't as though what they printed was trustworthy and anyway, the owls only irritated Uncle Vernon.

The rain was really coming down now and with it, the wind had risen again. Vivid forks of lightning showed flashes of trees bent nearly to breaking by the wind and rain. Harry reached up to lower the casement when he saw a shadow detach itself from a large oak and slip over to a clump of holly at the end of the drive. Harry blinked and leaned out a bit to get a better look, but only succeeded in getting his head and shoulders wet from the dripping eaves. Another flash of lightning showed the shadow moving, not so easily this time, right toward the front door of Number 4. Harry yanked the window closed, grabbed his wand from the bedside table and ran from his room.

He was already halfway down the stairs when the doorbell shrilled through the house. Bounding down the last few steps and fairly leaping across the foyer, he pressed his face to the door, staring out the peephole. He saw only a huddle of rain soaked cloth, half leaning on the porch rail. Wand drawn, Harry cautiously reached for the doorknob, hoping to get a bit of a jump on the figure outside. Just as he turned the handle, a loud clatter on the stairs behind him, followed by a hoarse shout, informed Harry that Uncle Vernon was up and wasn't happy.

"You, Boy! What in blazes do you think your doing? Was that the door? What imbecile would go about ringing bells at this hour?" he grunted as he reached past Harry and flung the door wide.

Uncle Vernon's angry tirade at the "worthless intruder" was cut short s the sodden figure stumbled toward his nephew, gasping, "Order... Lupin... need Remus..." and collapsed in Harry's arms.

Harry stood, stunned, staring at the figure in his arms. But after three heartbeats of amazed immobility, he leaned slightly to look out the door for any sign of other figures. He could see nothing through the sheets of rain.

Harry then turned his attention to the person hanging limply in his grip. In the dim light of the entry, he could see it was a woman, probably not much older than the oldest Weasley son, Bill. The woman had masses of dark hair which spilled wildly from under the drenched cloak hood. She was very pale with her eyes nearly closed and her jaw slack. Then, Harry noticed the vicious-looking wound showing through the torn neck and shoulder of her black clothing. Her shoulder and neck looked cut, burned and hexed all at once. Seeing this, Harry's mouth went dry.

A frightened gasp caused Harry and Uncle Vernon to turn toward the staircase. Aunt Petunia stood a few steps up, taking in the sight of the injured woman. The sight of his wife's shocked face restored some of the bluster to Harry's uncle.

"Wh, what are you about, Boy, bringing a common hobo into this house? One of your freak friends, I suppose?" he growled.

Harry began to retort that he wasn't the one who'd opened the door without so much as a glance out the peephole, when Aunt Petunia's voice stopped him.

"Well, you can't leave her there, probably bleeding to death. Harry, carry her up to your room and lay her down. Then, you'll figure out what to do."

Later, Harry thought back and felt he should have collapsed from shock, himself, but at the moment, he could only wordlessly obey.

Harry had grown quite a bit over the past year, but, he realized, even if he had not, he still wouldn't have found carrying the woman upstairs an impossible chore. She was a small woman, perhaps only a few inches over five feet tall, and slender. Lifting her, Harry inexplicably thought of carrying Hedwig.
Reaching his room, Harry laid the woman on the bed gently as his aunt followed him in carrying a towel and a blanket.

"Harry," she said, crisply, "I want you to do whatever it is you do to contact your, er, friends." As she spoke she drew off the woman's tattered and soaking cloak, covered her with the blanket and began toweling off the wild, wet mane of hair.
"I'm not going to let her suffer from those injuries - whatever did that..." her voice quavered, but recovered, "but I won't have her here longer than absolutely necessary. You can just see she's trouble."

Having finished her ministrations and said her piece, Aunt Petunia left the room, beckoning for a stunned and speechless Uncle Vernon to follow. A moment later, Harry heard their bedroom door click shut. He was left alone, hearing only the rain, and, amazingly, his cousin's snores. Dudley hadn't even stirred.

Harry was definitely faced with a problem. The only way he knew to reach Remus Lupin was by way of one of the specially charmed owls with which Dumbledore had supplied the Order. Hedwig, if she could find Lupin, wasn't safe enough for the purpose (Harry hadn't forgotten how Hedwig had been injured just months before) and Harry had no other owl at the Dursleys just then. Of course, on a night like this, sending any owl out would surely bring the wizarding equivalent of the SPCA or something, and he felt he really couldn't blame them. So, what to do? Then, it came to him - Mrs. Figg! Lupin had told him to contact her if something went wrong at the Dursleys. Well, this wasn't quite what he had meant, but Harry felt it was all very wrong, indeed.

It was only the previous summer that Harry had learned his cranky, cat-loving sitter was really a guard placed by Dumbledore himself to keep an eye on Harry. Mrs. Figg was a squib - a non-magic person from a wizarding family - but she'd certainly have a way to reach Remus Lupin and the rest of the Order. And Harry knew just how to reach Mrs. Figg.

Harry threw a quick glance at the unconscious woman on the bed and stepped into the hall. He hurried to the small table at the head of the stairs and picked up the telephone. It was a horrible time of night to be phoning anyone, but he knew Mrs. Figg would understand once he'd told his story. He expected a groggy response, but instead, the greeting from the other end of the line was wide awake and anxious.

"Er, Mrs. Figg, this is Harry Potter, " he began, "I'm awfully sorry to.."

"Harry!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg, cutting short his apology, "Thank goodness! I've been so worried. Look, just sit tight. The Order is on the way."

There was a clatter of a receiver being slammed down followed by the buzz of an empty line. Mrs. Figg had known something was happening, but how? And, wondered Harry, what in the world do I do now?

Nothing useful came immediately to mind, so Harry went back to his room. He reasoned that someone ought to keep an eye on the stranger in case she woke up. Still, he wasn't keen on being alone with an unknown witch - if she was a witch. He didn't even know that.

Just as Harry reached his bedroom door, the threshing of the doorbell brought him round again to face the stairs. He ran down the steps, wand in hand, and peered once again through the peephole. Relief swept over Harry in a rush as he beheld lime green spiked hair which could only be Nymphadora Tonks. Her companions shifted slightly and Harry saw top-hatted Dedalus Diggle. Then, the faint light caught the third visitor's face and Harry's relief turned to joy. It was Remus Lupin. In one quick motion, he had the door open and yanked Tonks, Diggle and Lupin into the house.

"I'm so glad to see you lot. Weirdest thing has happened, " Harry exclaimed, "Hey, how did you know to come, anyway?"
"Slow down and take it easy," Lupin cautioned. "Suppose you tell us what happened."
So, Harry recounted all that had led up to their arrival, including the non-conversation with Mrs. Figg.

"Oh, brilliant, Harry, to think of a telephone," Tonks beamed at him. "Haven't seen one in years! My dad used to have a blue princess model..."

"Another time, Tonks," said Lupin, looking puzzled. "Dedalus, perhaps you could go check on our guard. I could do with knowing how this woman got here without so much as a murmur from Hestia Jones. It's not like her to miss anything on her watch."

Diggle, who had been grinning delightedly at seeing Harry again, suddenly sobered. He turned back to the door.

"I'll find her, Remus, but I may need a bit of time. Give me, say, twenty minutes. I'll bring Hestia back here or, at least, check in." With a flick of his top hat, he went out, shutting the door carefully behind him.

"Right," said Lupin, turning to Harry, "I think you'd better take us up to see the mystery woman you've been keeping in your bedroom."

Harry frowned and Tonks snorted with suppressed giggles, but Lupin merely gestured them toward the stairs, one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. With one last disgruntled look, Harry led them up to his room.

"Tonks," Lupin spoke up, "you're better with first aid charms than I am. Maybe, you'd better look her over and get her ready to be moved."

Tonks nodded and moved past Harry into the room. It took only a moment, even in that dim light, for her to see the stranger’s injuries. With a gasp and murmured, "This will take a bit," she dropped to her knees beside the bed. Harry turned on a small bedside lamp and retreated to the foot of the bed. Lupin, after a quick glance around the room, joined him and looked down at the unconscious woman.

As Tonks turned the patient's head to better reach the wounded neck and shoulder, the light shone full on the woman's face making it completely visible for the first time. Lupin's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped and the blood drained from his face. Harry turned to him to ask some questions, but they were forgotten when he saw Lupin's face.

"What is it, Professor Lupin," Harry asked, his voice tight with surprise, fingers tightening on the bedpost, "do... do you know her?"

"I... thought so... for a moment," Lupin answered, shaking his head. "But it can't be. She looks very much like someone I once knew, but she died... she was killed in a raid to round up Death Eaters nearly 15 years ago, right after Sirius..."

He swallowed convulsively and closed his eyes. After a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and moved to stand next to Tonks, avoiding Harry's eye.

"Merlin's beard," breathed Lupin, looking over Tonks' shoulder as she knelt over the woman. "She does look like Annwyl."

"Who's Annwyl?" the other two demanded in unison.

Lupin shot them each a look of surprise, then nodded with understanding.

"Right, you'd both be too young to know her. Annwyl King was a member of the Order. She had just finished training and was the youngest Auror in Ministry history. She was killed in a raid rounding up the remaining Voldemort supporters," Lupin said, his eyes still on the woman. "It's just amazing how much this woman looks like her."

"Well," Tonks spoke up, "I've done what I can to stabilize her and she's coming round. You could ask her if you'd like."

Tonks rose and stepped back to stand beside Harry. She flashed him a compassionate smile and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, Harry?" she questioned lightly, "Bugger of a night for you."

Harry only nodded in reply and kept his eyes fixed on Lupin who had taken Tonks' place, kneeling beside the woman. After taking a close look at her injuries, Lupin seemed to be examining her face. Then, he gently lifted the woman's right arm, pushing up the sleeve of her black shirt to bare her wrist. Harry could see a long, thin scar running in an arc from the inner wrist to the outer forearm. Lupin eased the sleeve back into place and released her hand. The motion caused her to stir, her eyelids fluttering slightly.

"Hullo there," spoke Lupin softly, causing the woman's eyes to open at last. "I don't suppose you could tell us who you are or how you happened to be here."

The woman's eyes were unfocused and Harry could tell it was an effort for her to keep them open at all. So, it surprised him when she actually managed a weak answer.

"Need to reach the Order...Remus...know what to do...Harry...Remus..." she spoke wearily as her eyes began to drift shut again.

"What is your name?" Lupin pressed her, wanting to glean something before she lost consciousness again.

The eyes pulled open once more, but with only a slight indication of understanding. Her strangled voice spoke as if from rote.

"King, Annwyl, Lieutenant," she rasped, "Auror, third grade. I.D. number 37853."

Lupin came to his feet, backing away from the woman who was again unconscious. He stared thoughtfully first at her, then at Tonks and Harry. His mouth opened as if to speak, but shut again, as if he'd thought better of it. He inched back toward the wall, staring as if he expected the woman to suddenly pop to her feet, declaring this all an elaborate ruse.

"Wyl? How on earth..." Lupin breathed, still shaking his head in disbelief.

The sound of the front door opening and closing brought all three of them from their stunned state. Dedalus Diggle appeared in the doorway, his face ashen and his hands shaking. Lupin, Tonks and Harry looked at him questioningly.

"I've found her, but... well, you'd better come see," quavered Diggle, "I've never seen anything like it."

"I'll come, Dedalus," said Tonks, moving toward the bedroom door. "Is she badly hurt?"

Diggle put out a hand to stop her, but avoided her eye.

"It's too late for your healing charms, Tonks. She's dead," he said, heavily. With a glance at the bed, he added, "I'd say whatever did that to her, got to Hestia as well."
Lupin's face went slack with shock, his eyes unreadable. Tonks wavered slightly and Harry could see her begin to shake.

"I'll come," Tonks said again, sadly. She nodded in the direction of her patient. "Remus, I've stabilized her for now, but she really needs Poppy."

"Alright, we'll wind things up here," answered Lupin. "You two stay and scout around. Oh, and keep an eye on the Dursleys. You never know. I'll send back reinforcements as quickly as possible."

With acknowledging nods to Lupin and what were meant to be encouraging smiles to Harry, Diggle and Tonks turned to go. As she reached the head of the stairs, Tonks turned back and called softly,

"Remus, she's going to be in a lot of pain when you move her. Maybe, well, I think you'd better stun her for the trip."

As the front door closed behind Tonks and Diggle, Lupin looked over at Harry.

"Well, time to get moving. Pack a rucksack or book bag or something with just what you'll need for a day or two and bring Hedwig. Bung the rest into your trunk. Someone will bring it along later. I need to leave a note for the Dursleys."

Lupin sat down at Harry's desk and helped himself to the quill, ink and parchment lying there. Harry just stood in the middle of the room, looking as if he wasn't quite grasping what was going on, which, in fact, he wasn't. Lupin looked up from his writing in mild surprise.

"Harry, we've really got to get moving. I've got to get in touch with Madame Pomfrey and I can't do that from here."

"So, I'm going too?" questioned Harry, finding his voice at last.

"Of course, Harry. There hasn't really been time to explain, but there's been some dark activity tonight," Lupin gestured toward the bed, "as you may have guessed. So, for the moment anyway, the safest place for you is at headquarters."

For a fleeting instant, Harry considered pushing for the whole story right away. However, the sight of the injured woman on the bed and the drawn, gray face of Remus Lupin made him think better of that. Wordlessly, he began loading books into his trunk. After a few minutes, though, he did hazard a question.

"Professor Lupin, you said Annwyl King was dead. How did she turn up, alive, and on Privet Drive?"

"I'm not your professor anymore Harry, so I think it had better be Remus and that seems to be the 60,000 pound question of the day. Look, the sooner you pack, the sooner we can get out of here. This is all a long story which I would feel a lot better about telling once I've got you safely at headquarters. You hurry with your things and I'll leave this where the Dursleys will find it."

Remus left the room to find a visible place for his letter and Harry was left alone with the woman who claimed to be a deceased Auror and member of Dumbledore's own Order. As he crammed his cauldron and the last of his books into his trunk and began filling his book bag with what he would need for a day or two, Harry speculated about her.

If she really was Annwyl King, what had happened? Who had been killed in her place? Where had she been all these years and why hadn't she been in contact with anyone in the Order? How could she be dead and yet, turn up at the door of the Dursleys' home, of all places? Was there an explanation of all this that could show her to be a loyal member of the Order? Harry was having a hard time imagining what that could be. So, why had she come? The same question could be asked even if she wasn't Annwyl. Where had she come from and why was she here?

Harry finished his packing and closed his trunk. He looked around his room in disbelief. He was leaving and July wasn't even quite over yet. He had more than a month of holidays still, but he wasn't going to have to spend it with the Dursleys, waiting and wondering what was happening. No, he'd be spending that time at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry knew from experience that he wouldn't be in on much of what went on, but there was no doubt he would hear more than he was getting on Privet Drive.

And, thought Harry grimly, this time around I intend to get some answers when I ask what's going on. I'll not just be tucked away in some back room and be quiet 'like a good child.'

Child no longer. Harry would be sixteen in just two days - tomorrow, actually, he realized with a glance at the clock - and just a month ago, he'd been learned of the prophecy that had set him apart from the outset. The ultimate defeat of Voldemort was, quite literally, in his hands...

A stirring from the bed and the sound of Remus' footsteps on the stairs mercifully shattered Harry train of thought. He sighed and hefted his bag over his shoulder and reached for Hedwig's cage as Remus re-entered the room. Remus noted Harry's face.

"Harry, I..." he began, his eyes dark with worry, "I know this has all been hard. Maybe, having you close by for a bit and all... maybe we'll have time for some talk, yeah? I feel as if maybe we both need it."

Gratitude and sullen sorrow fought for dominance in Harry's eyes. Gratitude won out after a moment's hesitation. He nodded acknowledgment, not trusting his voice to answer.

Clearing his throat, Remus turned back to the now semiconscious woman on the bed. "I guess Tonks was right," he said, gesturing toward the fitful patient, "though I do hate to stun someone who is unarmed. Well, better that than leaving her in pain. Stupefy!"

Harry winced as the thin jet of red light hit her in the abdomen. Her fretful stirrings ceased and she lay, huddled in the blanket, looking, Harry had to admit, quite a bit more restful.

Remus drew an ordinary wooden ruler, such as a child might carry in a pencil box, from a pocket of his cloak.

"Portkey," he explained, seeing the question on Harry's face. "Since Fudge has to admit, publicly, that he was wrong about Voldemort, he's been very reluctant to interfere with anything Dumbledore wants to do. That means a few luxuries for the Order, such as the safe owls and some emergency portkeys."

Remus bent and gently lifted the woman from the bed. With her supported in his arms, he held the ruler pointed toward Harry. Obeying a gesture from Remus, Harry stretched out his hand and touched the proffered ruler. As his hand made contact, Harry felt the tug at his navel and his bedroom on Privet Drive was whisked from sight.

Disclaimer: I should have done this before. Bad Author! *goes off to iron hands* I own nothing related to Harry Potter and the Potter Universe. This is all J.K. Rowling’s creation. This story is for entertainment purposes, only.


HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 2: The Auror's Resurrection -

Harry stumbled a bit as he arrived and landed heavily on his knees. Hedwig's cage came to the floor beside him with a thump, drawing an indignant hoot from the now rather ruffled owl.

"Sorry Hedwig, " murmured Harry, "OOF!"

Remus was struggling with balancing the weight of two people and the task of landing upright. After a few swaying steps, he staggered into Harry, leaning against him for support as he regained his equilibrium.

"Ungh... sorry, Harry," he gasped.

The sound of someone hurrying into the room made Harry turn, but he quickly relaxed as he saw tall, red-haired Arthur Weasley.

"Remus! Harry!" he exclaimed, "Where are Tonks and Diggle? Who's that?"
Mr. Weasley stepped forward quickly to help Remus steady himself and the stunned woman.

"Explanations in a moment, Arthur," answered Remus, "but first, I've got to get her into a room and send for Poppy Pomfrey."

Motioning Harry to stay where he was, Remus and Mr. Weasley carried the limp woman out of the room. Harry then took the opportunity to see what sort of room he was in. He was in one corner of a very large kitchen. It had a flagstone floor and a low ceiling. The beams were dark with age and candle smoke. Dominating one wall was the one of the largest fireplaces Harry had ever seen. It was easily large enough to roast an ox and the firebox had so many iron pot hooks, cranes, and the like, it looked like some strange, inverted porcupine.

Though the architecture of the room showed it to be rather old, there were modern looking appliances and a huge sink ranged along two other walls. Harry guessed they were magical as he saw no electrical outlets in the room. There was a large window above the sink. There were doors in the remaining wall. One appeared to close off a pantry, another looked as if it must open into a dooryard or garden and the third was the door through which Remus and Mr. Weasley had disappeared.

Harry placed Hedwig's cage on a small table by the pantry door and his bag on the floor next to it. Then, he took a seat near the fire at the biggest wooden table he had ever seen outside the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Lack of sleep and the odd events of the last hour were taking their toll on Harry. He sat gazing into the flames, relaxing in their warmth, thinking and feeling nothing. So, when Remus and Mr. Weasley returned, Harry jumped in shock.

"Oh, Harry," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, "didn't mean to give you a wobbly. You must be dead tired, but I'm afraid the night's not over yet. Fancy a bit of a nosh before we carry on?"

Mr. Weasley busied himself at a counter and the ice box as Remus tossed a handful of powder into the fire and leaned in. Harry heard him urging Madame Pomfrey to come straight away and then ask Professor McGonagall to send the headmaster as soon as could be arranged. However, it was all rather vague and other-worldly as Harry edged closer to sleep.

"Uh oh," exclaimed Remus, pulling out of the fire and seeing Harry nearly asleep, "Harry, wake up. Dumbledore will be here soon and he'll be wanting to talk with us all. Besides, you had some questions for me, as I recall."

The thought of any sort of talk from Dumbledore was enough for Harry to rouse himself and attempt to focus again on what was passing.

"Here we are, lads," said Mr. Weasley, cheerfully, as he levitated a tray of sandwiches and another tray bearing mugs of steaming, inky black coffee to the table. "I can't hold a candle to Molly, of course, but it'll be edible and the coffee is hot and strong, anyway, so tuck in!"

"Ahh, " sighed Remus, following Mr. Weasley's advice, "Arthur, I owe you something for this. That coffee smells wonderful. Harry, suppose you fill Arthur in."

So, Harry recounted the events of the evening. When he had finished, there was a silence for moment while Remus conjured another cup of coffee for himself, refilled Mr. Weasley's mug, and pushed one over toward Harry.

"Drink up, Harry," said Remus as a knock sounded at the door. "I'll get that, it'll be Poppy."

And, indeed, it was Madame Pomfrey who came bustling in the door, levitating a trunk of supplies in front of her. With a friendly nod to Harry and Mr. Weasley, she followed Remus through the kitchen to her patient. Remus returned almost immediately and sat down again at the table, saying,

"Poppy will need some time, but she should have something to report by the time Albus gets here."

"Um, Pr.. er, Remus," said Harry, "could you tell me how you all happened to know you were needed at the Dursleys tonight? Even Mrs. Figg knew."
Mr. Weasley hemmed a bit, but Remus shook his head.

"I know how Molly feels, Arthur, but there are some things he should know," Remus said. "Harry, how much do you know about the protection you have at the Dursleys?"

"I know Professor Dumbledore based it on my mum sacrificing her life for me," Harry answered, staring fixedly at his hands spread flat on the table top. "Nothing more."

"Well, Harry," said Remus, "while that is the core of your protection, there are other spells, ward charms, at work. Mrs. Figg monitors them with the help of her kneazles."

"Oh," said Harry, comprehension dawning, " all this time, I thought they were just cats."

"No, highly reliable kneazles, Harry," Mr. Weasley broke in, "and they are very helpful in watching the barriers. However, the ward charms, themselves, help with that, as well. You see, in addition to an anti-apparition ward, and simple barrier wards, there is a ward set to sound an alarm when a magic person crosses the barrier. It is set to recognize you, of course, but anyone else will trigger it. It was tripped tonight."

"So," asked Harry, "what if Voldemort sent a squib or a muggle after me?"

"Mrs. Figg has a clock hidden away at her house, " smiled Mr. Weasley, delightedly. "It monitors you and the Dursleys in much the same way as the clock at the Burrow. If anything was amiss with you or any of the Dursleys, your hand on that clock would show us."

"So, that means this woman, Annwyl, is a witch," noted Harry.

"So it would seem..." Remus answered.

At that moment, Madame Pomfrey re-entered the kitchen. Her face looked worn and worried as she sat down across from Harry. She glanced briefly at the three of them, but then looked down as if reluctant to speak. After a moments tense silence, she ventured,
"Will the headmaster be here soon?"

"We hope so, Poppy, " Remus answered, "but it has been a busy night. He'll come as soon as he can. What is it? Is she really Annwyl King?"

Madame Pomfrey just looked at Remus for a moment, then turned away to stare into the fire as she spoke.

"She is, indeed, Annwyl King," she began. "All the evidence matches and polyjuice would have worn off by now. Where she has been all these years, of course, I haven't any idea. But as surprising as it is to see here alive again, her injuries are even more shocking." She paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

"Despite the appearance of burns, the only tissue damage is cutting and tearing, made complicated by residual magic in the wound, a magical energy signal, if you will."

"But, what can inflict that sort of injury," questioned Mr. Weasley.

Madame Pomfrey lifted her gaze from the fire, but instead of turning to Mr. Weasley to answer, she fixed her eyes on Remus. "The wounds appear to be consistent with a werewolf attack."

Mr. Weasley coughed and choked on his coffee and Harry felt his jaw working up and down in disbelief. Remus simply stared, unblinking, at Madame Pomfrey, his face ashen, features unmoving.

"Buh...but, " spluttered Harry, at last, "that isn't possible, is it? Tonight's not a full moon.
Remus isn't..." He stopped, not knowing how to continue.

"I know, Potter, I know, " Madame Pomfrey agreed. "I didn't say it was a werewolf bite because, of course, how could it be? The moon isn't full for another week. I'm simply saying it resembles the injury one would expect from such an attack."

The four sat silent for a moment, no one being quite sure what to say next. Then, Remus stood up so abruptly, Harry jumped in his chair. Remus said nothing and looked at no one, but headed straight toward the outside door.

"Remus, " Madame Pomfrey called after him, "you should know that it isn't a werewolf bite. The magical signature is fading as she heals. There will be no lasting effects."

Remus had paused at the door, but did not turn. He listened, but when she had finished, he left the house without a word. Mr. Weasley rose as if to follow, but Madame Pomfrey laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Let him go, Arthur," she said quietly. "I think he has some of his memories to face down just now and that's best done on one's own."

"Will she really be alright then," Harry asked, as Mr. Weasley sat down again.

"Certainly, but she'll need rest and care. Arthur, Molly's terribly clever maintaining healing charms. Do you think she'd come?"

"I'll owl her right away, " Mr. Weasley answered. "I expect she'll need a bit of time to mobilize, but I believe she could be here by mid-day."

Mr. Weasley had just conjured a quill, ink, and parchment and the two had begun composing a note to Mrs. Weasley, when the door opened, admitting Albus Dumbledore. Harry was on his feet before he realized he had moved. The expression on the headmaster's face was anxious and, Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he detected fear in the old, blue eyes.

"Arthur, Harry," Dumbledore nodded them a distracted greeting. "Poppy, thank you for coming. We seem determined to have you caught up in our work, despite our attempts to keep you safely out of it all. I have just had a word with Remus in the garden. He seemed quite distraught - said something about Annwyl and a werewolf bite..."

"Now, " she answered soothingly, "I know it's a bit of a shock, but it really is Annwyl."

"What is this about a werewolf bite, then," Dumbledore pressed.

Madame Pomfrey and Mr. Weasley rose from the table and flanked Dumbledore as she spoke. "Her injuries do bear an extraordinary resemblance, but she's mending nicely. Come, see for yourself..."

The three exited the kitchen, heading into the house to where Remus and Mr. Weasley had taken the patient when they arrived. Harry followed, although he wasn't entirely sure why. Something about seeing Dumbledore in such distress worked on him strangely and he found himself following along, unbidden. Harry noticed nothing of his surroundings, seeing only the three before him and hearing only the quiet murmurs of encouragement issuing from Madame Pomfrey.

They entered a small, dimly lit bedroom - that is, all but Harry, who remained in the doorway, watching silently. Annwyl King was in the bed, looking, Harry noticed, much better than she had in his room on Privet Drive. For one thing, she was dry now, her long, dark brown hair spread across the pillow in wild, glossy curls. Her sodden, torn clothes had been replaced with soft, white hospital pajamas and her shoulder and neck were neatly bandaged. She was sleeping so peacefully, Harry was certain Annwyl must have been given a powerful pain potion.

Professor Dumbledore stood over the bed a moment, then sat down heavily on a small stool near the head. Harry felt his eyes prickle as he watched his headmaster lift the woman's pale, limp hand and hold it against his cheek, whispering, "Oh Annie... my little Annwyl..."

Harry backed away, feeling almost guilty for having witnessed such a scene. He turned quickly and made his way back to the kitchen, his stomach clenching at the memory of the pain in Dumbledore's voice - pain that had not been there when Sirius died...

That last thought was like a bucket of icy water thrown on him. Stunned and disgusted with himself, Harry threw himself down onto a chair and, resting his elbows on the table, pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

No, not that, he told himself firmly, if I start to think like that, I'll go mad...

A slight movement in the shadowy corner raised Harry's head with a snap. Mad Eye Moody shuffled forward and sat down across from Harry.

"The bugger never seems to give us a break, does he, Potter. I understand you've had yourself quite an evening."

Before he could respond, Harry heard footsteps behind him and he looked up into Mr. Weasley's sympathetic face.

"I expect you're about knackered, Harry," he said kindly. Looking around, he added, "I see Remus hasn't come in yet..." He sighed and took a chair beside Harry.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said, quietly, "who is Annwyl King? Remus said she was a member of the Order and the youngest Auror ever and you all thought she was dead, but there must be more than that. I've never seen Professor Dumbledore so..." he trailed off uncomfortably.

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry for a moment as if making up his mind about something. After a bit, he nodded, answering, “Perhaps that is a question better asked of Alastor, here. As an original member of the Order, I think he can give you the whole story."

The weather-beaten old Auror nodded slowly. After a moment's thought, he began.

"Yes, well, as far as it goes, what Remus told you is all true. Annwyl was a brilliant Auror, despite being nothing but a pup, and a real asset to the Order for the very short time she had been with us. But there is more. As I'm sure you noticed, she and your headmaster were... are very close.

"Annwyl is the only child of John and Gretchen King. Gretchen was the granddaughter of Eliphalet Scarrenhalt, an old friend of Albus' who was killed, fighting along side Dumbledore in the final battle against Grindelwald. In fact, it is said that killing Eliphalet was Gindelwald's last act... Well, and so, Albus remained close to the family. When Gretchen married John King - a muggle, by the way, but quite a fellow for all that, Albus walked her down the aisle. Then, when John and Gretchen's daughter was born two years later, they invited Albus to name her. Annwyl was his own mother's name. It's Welsh, I believe... means "darling" or some such. Albus was wild over that child. He was also named her godfather."

At this, Harry looked away from Moody, his throat tight. Did Sirius have anything to do with naming me? I may never know.

"Then, Voldemort appeared," Moody went on, "and Albus was fighting again. This time, Gretchen was at his side. Early on in Voldemort's first war for power, when Annwyl was about ten, her family was attacked. The fact that Gretchen had married a muggle was enough for the Death Eaters, but they had learned she was working for Albus and that made them very keen. Somehow or other, Albus was tipped off and hurried to the Kings' home to warn them. Unfortunately, he was too late. When he arrived the attack was in progress. John was already dead, but Gretchen and her father, who was visiting were fighting. Albus fought as well, but in the end..." Moody paused, giving Harry a shrewd look.

"In the end, " he resumed, "it was only Albus and Annwyl. As her guardian, he took her back to Hogwarts to live, seeing as she was to start school the next year, anyway."

"And then, he thought she was killed by Death Eaters, too," Harry asked, horrified.

"Yes, " Moody growled. "Bloody awful business. I've never seen Albus so overcome. The whole family - four generations... gone... I imagine he's in a right state now."

"Professor Moody," Harry said, "Last year, you showed me an old photo of the original Order of the Phoenix. Why wasn't Annwyl in that picture?"

"Wyl was still in Auror training when that photo was taken. Because of her abilities, the usual three year course was waived for her, but she still spent about a year at the training facility. She wasn't always at liberty to leave," he answered.

The three sat in silence for a moment and then Mr. Weasley spoke. "Look, Harry, in light of Annwyl's injuries, we are going to have to revise our opinions of what went on at the Dursleys'. That means our planned briefing will have to be pretty well scrapped until we know more. Why don't you get some sleep. Take the first bedroom on the left when you reach the hallway. Poppy Pomfrey or no Poppy Pomfrey, I'm going to check on Remus."

"Mr. Weasley, what will this attack mean for Remus?"

Mr. Weasley stopped, hand on the doorknob, and weary look on his face. "In what way, Harry," he asked, looking as though he dreaded the whole subject.

"I mean, " Harry answered, "if Voldemort - and this has got something to do with him, right? - can make it look like werewolves can attack at anytime, won't that make it even harder for people like Remus? Won't they be persecuted more than ever?"

"I don't know that, Harry," replied Mr. Weasley, his shoulders drooping, "but I fear so." He turned and went outside without another word.

Harry's head was spinning with fatigue as he gathered his things and made his way to the room Mr. Weasley had assigned him. Setting Hedwig's cage on the deal dresser and his bag on the floor by the bed, Harry flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Now, if only I could sleep and not dream, he thought.

A voice from the doorway made him sit up quickly. It was Madame Pomfrey carrying a cup of potion which smoked slightly.

"Dreamless sleep, Potter, and no arguments."

Harry obeyed.

* * *

A sound of movement in the room, and Harry shot upright in bed with a hoarse cry, yanking his wand from under his pillow and groping for his glasses. Another sound, loud this time, and Harry slammed his glasses on and peered around wildly, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Oi! Harry, put that wand down! You scared me half to death popping up like that."

Harry recognized Ron Weasley's voice in an instant. Ron, he thought, flopping back onto his pillow, thank goodness. I'm gonna kill him ...

"I scared you? Ron, it's great to see you, mate, but what are you doing sneaking around like that?" Harry sat up again, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, glaring at his friend in mock severity.

"I was just bringing my stuff in," Ron answered, grinning. "Mum, Ginny and I just got here. Didn't know you were taking a page from Moody's book. Looked like you were ready to hex anything that moved."

"Yeah, well, next time I'll just enchant the dust bins and maybe I'll be able to sleep in peace," Harry laughed.

"What happened around here last night, Harry?" Ron asked, sobering. "Mum tossed us out of bed at an awful hour this morning, but you could tell she'd been up for hours before that. She'd packed all our stuff - dunno how I slept through that - and had even packed a trunk of healing potions and talismans. She hasn't had that lot out since the twins started Hogwarts."

Harry leaned down to pull a t-shirt and jeans from his bag. Avoiding Ron's gaze, he tried changing the subject. "You just got here? What time is it anyway?"

"It's nearly noon," Ron frowned, "Come on, Harry, you can't not tell me."

"Look," sighed Harry, relenting, "I'll not sure how much I even know. I'll tell you everything, for whatever that's worth, but not until after I've eaten. I'm famished." Tying his last shoelace, Harry rose and made for the door. Ron shrugged and followed him from the room.

As Harry walked through the house toward the kitchen, he took his first real look at the Order's new headquarters. Unlike Sirius' house in Grimmauld Place, this house was wholly unremarkable. It was a farmhouse of moderate size and non-nondescript design. Harry figured - correctly, as it happened - that its interior had been magically enhanced in order to accommodate their needs. The decor was steadfastly muggle-style, but in the fashion of about a half century ago. Everything had an air of comfortable wear - not out at heel, but definitely not stiffly new.

The house was brighter, too, and Harry paused at a window near the foot of the stairs (Harry's room was on the ground level, but obviously there were more rooms above) and looked out over a very picturesque rolling meadow. Clearly, they were nowhere near London, or any city, for that matter. They weren't near Hogwarts, either, as this countryside bore no resemblance at all to the rugged terrain surrounding the school.

Reaching the kitchen, Harry and Ron were met with a delicious, rich smell of a stew bubbling on the stove. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, busy with lunch preparations.

"Oh, Harry, dear, you're up already," she greeted him pleasantly. "Are you hungry? Do you want eggs and sausage or would you rather have lunch with us all? Stew today."

Harry didn't answer but stood, looking in her direction. In his mind, he was remembering last summer at headquarters, when Mrs. Weasley and Sirius sat in the kitchen, with the homey, wonderful smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking wrapping them round like a warm blanket, arguing over him. It had been painful to watch at the time, but now, the memory was threatening to crush him altogether.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley looked at him worriedly. "Are you alright, dear?"

Harry shook himself, breaking free of the unpleasant memory. "Sorry, don't think I'm quite awake yet," he answered with a weak smile. "The stew smells terrific, Mrs. Weasley. I'll just wait for that, if you don't mind."

Mrs. Weasley nodded understandingly, but gave Harry a careful look. Harry tried to look pleasantly neutral, but he could see she had not been fooled. Luckily for him, she seemed to be of a mind to let it pass for the present.

"Right you are, then. There are your Hogwarts letters on the table. Ginny's is there, too, when she comes in. Why don't you two have a look? Your OWL results should be there."

Harry and Ron looked at one another, blanching. In all the excitement of the twelve hours, Harry had managed to forget his worry over the OWLs. Now, his fears came back to him in a rush.

"Blimey," Ron whispered as they approached the table, "I'd almost rather have one of Mum's howlers right now than open that. At least, a howler is gone in a minute."

"Well," answered Harry quietly, " depending on what that letter says, you may get the howler, too."

With a grimace, Ron sat down, picking up his letter, and Harry followed suit. With a quick glance and nod to the other, each took a deep breath and ripped open his letter. Ron impatiently tossed aside Professor McGonagall's usual welcome screed and eagerly ran down the list of exam results. Harry gingerly set his letter aside and closed his eyes a moment before looking at his results.

"Ruddy wonderful," Ron breathed in relief, looking over his scores again. "An O, five Es, and two As! Eight in all! More than I bargained for, I can tell you."

Harry opened his eyes at Ron's exclamation of relief. He looked down his list, hardly trusting what he saw. Suddenly, the parchment was whipped out of his hands.

"Harry, didn't you hear me?" exclaimed Ron, impatiently. "I asked you three times about your scores. Now, let's see..." Ron spread the two sets of results out side by side and began reading them off.

"Astronomy- An A for each. Well, after what happened that night, I guess they went easy on all of us. Care of Magical Creatures - O for us both! Charms, next - E for me and oh, bravo, Harry! An O! Was that one you needed for Auror training? Okay, Defense - E for me and O for you. Well, no surprise there, mate. Let's see, Divination, ugh. That was doomed, anyway. Yep, P for me and, ouch. D. Well, Harry, it's rubbish, anyway.

Right, Herbology was okay. E for me again and another O for you, Harry. History... well, an A for me and that's passing anyway. Never could keep all those goblins straight. And you got, oh. Sorry, Harry, you missed that one. Another D. Wait, that was when you fell asleep and..." Harry looked sharply at Ron and then away. Ron's ears reddened and he
mumbled. "Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean to say anything..."

"Don't worry, Ron. Go on," answered Harry stiffly.

"Um, yeah," Ron agreed. "Well, Potions next. We both got Es. Bugger, Harry. I'm sorry. You needed an O, didn't you?"

Harry nodded glumly. Without an Outstanding in Potions, he wouldn't be able to go on to NEWT level studies. Without that, there would be no Auror training for him.

"Well, you got an E in Transfiguration, Harry," Ron said, encouragingly. "Same as me."

Harry picked up his results and looked them over again. Trying to cheer himself, he thought, Really, with everything else that had been happening to me, seven OWLs isn't so bad. I only sat exams in nine subjects. It certainly could have been worse.

Mrs. Weasley came to the table, then, asking warily, her hand out for their papers. "Alright, then, you two. Let's be having them." She skimmed over Ron's quickly and smiled. "Eight OWLs, Ron. Oh, well done, dear. Your father'll be so pleased. Now, then, Harry," She looked down his list, and again, she gave a warm smile. "Well, Harry, that's wonderful. Seven OWLs and four of them Os! You should be very pleased, dear."

She beamed on them both for a moment, then turned back to the stove. At that moment, Ginny Weasley entered the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. She plopped down on a chair next to Ron and looked over his arm at the parchments on the table.

"Oh!" she squealed, "OWL results! Let's see then. How'd you both do?" Ron and Harry passed over their lists and Ginny skimmed them excitedly. "Oh, you've both done wonderfully well," she said smiling. "With scores like these, you'll be ready for any NEWT classes you want."

"Not quite," answered Harry, the pleasure he had felt at hearing Mrs. Weasley's and Ginny's praise disappearing.

Ron gave Ginny a significant look and abruptly changed the subject. "Mum," he said, turning in his chair, "how much longer until lunch? I'm famished."

"Just a couple of ticks, if you lot will lend a hand," Mrs. Weasley answered, cheerfully.

So, the three rose and helped set the table and lay out the dishes of Mrs. Weasley's fabulous cooking. They were nearly ready when Bill Weasley came in from the garden.

"Oh Bill, good," said Mrs. Weasley, "just in time. Have a seat then, everyone. We're just a small group today."

The five sat down to do justice to the stew. The Weasleys chatted amiably about the weather and quidditch standings while Harry let the warm, comfortable sensations lap him round. They seemed to understand his silence and kept their conversation light and pleasant, allowing Harry to just be, for a moment. Near the end of the meal, Bill pushed his chair back and sighed.

"Mum, that was excellent, but I'd best finish up for Dumbledore. I'll wake up Remus in a bit and he can take over until Moody comes back for the night. Then, I'll head back to the Burrow. Dad said he'd come straight here after work, so I thought I'd try to beat the twins home."

"Alright," Mrs. Weasley answered, serenely, "No need to worry about us, though. I expect our patient will sleep the rest of the day, so it'll be a quiet one here. Can I be expecting Albus tomorrow?"

Bill nodded and rose from the table. With a wink to Ginny, Ron and Harry, he went back out through the garden. The remaining four sat in congenial silence but after a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley spoke up.

"Well, Harry. So what will you have for tomorrow, then?" Harry simply looked at her, puzzled. "Your birthday, dear," Mrs. Weasley explained. "I'm afraid it won't seem
like much of a party without Hermione, Fred, and George, but it seemed safest for them to stay where they are. So, it'll have to be a small do. What do you fancy for dinner, Harry?"

Harry looked at the three Weasleys in amazement. A birthday party... Tomorrow, he would turn sixteen and have the first birthday party in his memory. The thought nearly took his breath away.

"Any... anything you make is wonderful," he said at last, smiling and stammering. "Um, I'll let you choose and it'll be a surprise to me."

"Oh, Mum, let me decorate, please," asked Ginny. "I know just the thing."

Harry wasn't sure he liked the glint in her eye as she said this, but at second look, her face was the picture of innocent anticipation. Harry looked to Ron, but Ron's face was equally innocent.

"That'll be lovely, Ginny," agreed her mother as she levitated the dishes, cutlery, and cookware to the sink. "I'll leave it all to you. "Now, then," Another wave of her wand set the dishes washing themselves with gentle clinking and splashing noises. "I'm sure you three have plenty of catching up to do, so I'll leave you to it. I've got to tend to Annwyl."

As Mrs. Weasley bustled out, Ron turned and stared at Harry expectantly. "Right, then, Harry," he said, "you've eaten, so let's have it. What went on last night?"

So, Harry poured out his story yet again. Ron and Ginny were an exceptional audience, gasping and glaring at all the right moments. "What I don't get, is why my scar didn't hurt," Harry mused when he had finished. "I mean, it prickled a bit, but it's done that most days since Voldemort came back."

Neither Ron nor Ginny had an answer for him. After a moment, Harry got up the courage to ask something he'd wondered about.

"Um, what happened to Percy? I haven't heard any mention of him. Surely, he's not still mad at your mum and dad, now that Fudge has admitted Voldemort's back?"

Ron's face darkened and Ginny's became expressionless. "Percy hasn't come back," Ron growled. "It seems the daft bugger has gone completely off his nut. It's like he's blaming Dumbledore and Mum and Dad, personally, for the fact we are at war, again."

"But that makes no sense," Harry exclaimed, indignantly.

"Never mind," Ginny's voice was cold as steel and cut as sharply. The tone shocked Harry. "Just forget him," she went on, "he doesn't matter anymore."

Harry stared at her and even Ron seemed taken aback. Looking at his sister's set face, Ron changed the subject again. "So, how can Annwyl be alive if they saw Death Eaters kill her?" he asked.

"Well, no one actually saw her die. They saw a flash of a curse, but never found her body," Ginny answered, matter of factly.

"How'd you know that?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Moody was still hanging about talking about Annwyl with Madame Pomfrey when I helped Mum take her healing things in. I heard him say so." Ginny shrugged.

"So, what did happen?" Ron asked.

The three discussed it a bit longer, but without understanding any more. At last, Ginny suggested they give it up and have a few games of Exploding Snap. In what seemed, to Harry, a very short time, the afternoon was gone and they were again helping Mrs. Weasley, this time with dinner. Bill had gone to the Burrow, but Remus was up and about and Mr. Weasley arrived just as Harry and Ron finished setting the table. Soon, Harry, Remus, and the Weasleys were seated for another of Mrs. Weasley's spectacular meals. Conversation was light at first, but finally, Harry could ignore it no longer.

"Remus," Harry said, "what do you suppose is going on? What is Voldemort
up to?"

Remus shook his head slightly but remained silent. The others fidgeted and hemmed nervously. Finally, Remus answered. "Mars has been unusually bright."

"Sounds like you've been talking with Firenze," Harry snorted in nervous
laughter.

"Yes," Remus nodded, "and I'm beginning to see what he means." He rose and turned to Mrs. Weasley, "Molly, is it alright if I look in on Wyl?" Mrs. Weasley nodded and he left without another word. No one knew what to make of his strange statement.

After dinner, Ron and Harry settled down to some chess while Ginny and Mr. Weasley had a game of gobstones and Mrs. Weasley knitted. It was the most peaceful evening Harry had had in months and he wondered why he didn't feel more at ease. Then, he realized. All this safety, but no Sirius... This distracted Harry so, he lost to Ron even more spectacularly than usual. After the pieces had been put away, Mrs. Weasley spoke.

"Now, time for bed, you lot. I'll need your help tomorrow to have everything in order for Harry's birthday." Ron, Ginny and Harry rose to go, but Mrs. Weasley stopped Harry.
"Harry, dear," she said quietly, "may I have a word?"

After bidding her children goodnight, she sat down with Harry. Mr. Weasley excused himself and left the room. This all seemed quite strange to Harry and he began to get nervous.

"Harry, " she began, "I feel I owe you an explanation. I know it is hard for you to talk about it just now, but I can't bear you thinking ill of me." Harry blinked in surprise. This, he had not been expecting.

"I... I don't..." he stuttered, but Mrs. Weasley held up a silencing hand.

"Please, Harry. I need to say this." Harry nodded and subsided in wonder. "I never had a chance to talk to you after that night at the Ministry," she went on. "I never got to tell you how very sorry I am about what happened."

Harry looked away, not able to bear the tears he saw gathering in her eyes. It was all he could do to check his own.

"Harry, I know you heard some of the things Sirius and I said to one another in the past. I don't deny we had our differences, but, Harry, you should know I admired your godfather very much. He was a true friend. He suffered so much, yet never forgot his loyalty and love. And he did love you, Harry." Her voice was choked with tears now. "Oh, Harry, I'm just so sorry..."

Her words were now entirely lost in silent tears, her hands covering her face. Harry gaped at her in dismay. Without thinking of what he was doing, Harry moved to kneel beside her chair.

"Please don't, Mrs. Weasley," he said, soothingly. "I know you only had words because you cared. Please don't cry anymore." At this, Mrs. Weasley grabbed Harry in a tight hug.

"Oh bless you, dear. Thank you..."

She still held him when Mr. Weasley came back in the room. He stood, smiling down at them, his eyes warm and gentle. When Mrs. Weasley had finally released her hold on Harry, Mr. Weasley laid a hand on her shoulder, and with the other, gently ruffled Harry's hair. It was such a gentle, paternal gesture, Harry thought it would undo him completely. He stood, and, his chest constricting so he couldn't speak, he left the room in silence.

Author's Notes: Love, as always, to my beta, Moriah S. For my readers, thanks for tuning in! Please take a moment to leave a review. It is free and painless. Just doesn't get better than that!

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 3 - A Birthday at Headquarters

When Harry awoke the next morning, he lay, unmoving, for a moment, trying to remember how he even got to bed the night before.

When he left the Weasleys, he was as near to a complete breakdown as he had ever been. Something deep in his chest twisted when he remembered Mrs. Weasley crying, worried that he was upset with her. Mrs. Weasley had been, always, genuinely kind and good to him and the thought of her ever crying because of him was so awful it nearly made him physically ill. It was made far, far worse by the realization that he had, at different times, been upset with her over her disagreements with Sirius.

Then, Harry's stomach really did lurch. He, had made Mrs. Weasley cry and, today, she was giving him a birthday party. He rolled over, pulling the pillow firmly over his head, drowning out the sound of Ron's snores. Well, he thought, I'll just have to make sure she never has to worry about the way I feel again and always knows how grateful I am...

There was a loud pounding on the door followed by a cheerful shout.

"Out of bed, you layabouts! Harry's got presents!"

"It's just sickening that I've got to have a little sister who is so bloody cheerful in the morning," groaned Ron, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Harry was already out of bed and tossed a pillow at Ron's head, glad for something to laugh about. "C'mon, you great lump! No whining on my birthday!"

It didn't take them long to get dressed and arrive in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had just placed the last steaming dish on the table. Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Bill, and Charlie were taking their seats. There was a chorus of "Good morning, boys," and "Happy birthday, Harry," as Ron and Harry sat down.

To Harry's eyes, the breakfast spread before him rivaled anything the Hogwarts house elves had ever produced. There were kippers, bacon, bangers and mash, toast, scrambled eggs, hot cakes, and several kinds of muffins. In addition, there was fragrant tea, orange juice and milk. But, most amazing of all were the brightly wrapped packages piled atop Harry's plate.

Only in recent years had Harry received proper birthday gifts at all and those were opened in the middle of the night and examined by the shielded light of an electric torch in his bedroom on Privet Drive. Harry looked at them, stunned.

"Oi! Harry, they won't bite," called Charlie, laughing. "Rip 'em open, there's a good lad, before the breakfast goes cold."

"Charlie, it's good to see you," Harry said over the laughter. "Ron said you were home from Romania." Harry couldn't keep down the feeling of delight at being, however temporarily, a part of the Weasley family again.

Charlie nodded cheerfully as Harry lifted the first bundle from the pile. Wrapped in wild and ever-changing plaid paper, the card was signed by Fred, George and Ginny. Tearing away the paper, Harry found a box stuffed with an assortment of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, including plenty of Canary Creams, Skiving Snackboxes, and even a few Weasley's Wildfire Whiz Bangs. Harry grinned across the table at Ginny.

"These are brilliant, thank you," he said. "Be sure to thank the twins for me, too, won't you?"

Ginny nodded, smiling broadly while Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in disapproval. In the meantime, Harry unwrapped a second package, this time from Bill and Charlie. It was a book, but one Harry was sure Hermione would never have picked out. It was called NEWT Level Studies, 101 Advanced Heckling Charms for the Gifted Prankster, by Fargus Fewldum.

"With the twins gone," Charlie said with a manic grin, "the common room may get to seeming too quiet. We trust you'll see to that problem." Charlie shot a glance at Ron and Ginny, too, causing everyone but Mrs. Weasley to snigger.

The third gift was from Ron and had a full supply of chocolate frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a special scrap book for Harry's now sizable collection of chocolate frog cards. Harry thanked him with a promise to share the bounty.

"What I really want," laughed Ron, "is a look at those heckling charms."

One present remained and Harry turned to it with interest. It was wrapped in purple paper sprinkled with small silver stars which really twinkled. A tag tied to the silver bow read,
"To Harry, with much love, Arthur and Molly Weasley." He smiled shyly at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and gently pulled the paper free. Lifting the lid of the box, Harry saw what looked like a crystal ball filled with a swirling silver substance that resembled quicksilver. It was nearly the size of his two fists and looked a bit like Neville Longbottom's Remembrall. Harry picked it up, a little puzzled. Seeing his expression, Mr. Weasley explained.

"It's a Contemplation Sphere, Harry. It's a bit like a Pensieve, although you can't store any memories in it. It's really just a crystal ball that has been charmed for a specific individual, to recall their memories. Molly and I worked on the charm for this one and it will respond only to you.

"You simply say, 'Memorarae' and the name of the place, event or person you are wanting to remember. The ball then shows all the memories from your mind, whether you actually can recall them or not. To retrieve a specific memory, you give specific names, place, event and time and off it goes. If you just give a name in the spell, all your memories related to it will appear in reverse chronology. The drawback, of course, is it rather tires you out so the spell won't last long."

"Wow," Harry breathed in admiration, "that's amazing."

"And a nice bit of magic, there," added Bill. "That's no simple charm work. Leave it to Mum and Dad to pull off a charm like that."

"Try it, Harry," begged Ginny, excitedly. "Let's see how it works."
Harry thought for a moment, then held the sphere before him, balanced on his palms.

"Memorarae first birthday," Harry said quietly.

The silver contents of the Contemplation Sphere began swirling faster and emitting a soft glow. Gradually, the silver faded and the ball revealed an image like a small muggle video. Everyone drew a collective breath when they saw Harry's memory.

There was a dark haired man who was unmistakably James Potter, smiling broadly at auburn-haired, green-eyed Lily Potter. She was holding a laughing Baby Harry on her knees. On the table before them was a small cake decorated with sugar animals and a single candle. In red icing letters, it read, "Happy First Birthday, Harry." James leaned forward, lips pursed, showing little Harry how to blow out the candle. Little Harry copied his father, putting out the candle with a series of puffs, rather wetter than intended. With a laugh and a kiss, Lily dried Harry's chin while James cut the cake. The image began to fade back to silver and Harry put his hands to the table with a sigh. Everyone was silent for a few moments, but then Ginny looked up at Harry, her eyes overbright.

"That was a lovely memory, Harry. Thank you for showing us."

Harry gave a small smile and looked down at the silver sphere before him. "I've never been able to remember that before. I... well, thank you."

"How do you feel, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "As Arthur said, the Memorarae charm can be a bit draining."

"I do feel a bit tired," Harry admitted, "but it is already going away. I'm fine."

"Well, then," said Mr. Weasley heartily, "a very happy birthday to you, Harry! Let's eat!"

Harry carefully set aside his gifts and joined the others in a very big breakfast. Suddenly, a thought came to Ron.

"Mum, hasn't there been an owl or something from Hermione? I know she wouldn't forget Harry's birthday."

"Not to worry," answered Mrs. Weasley. "We had word from Tonks this morning. She was at the Grangers yesterday and Hermione gave her Harry's gift to deliver. Tonks will be here for the Order's meeting tonight and will bring it along then."
After everyone had eaten and the plates were floated to the sink for washing, Mr. Weasley and Bill rose reluctantly.

"Well, I'm afraid Bill and I had best be off to work," Mr. Weasley said. "Can't put off the Ministry."

"And I wouldn't want to be the one to annoy a bunch of goblins by being late," added Bill. "We'll see you all at dinner."

After they had gone out the garden door, Mrs. Weasley turned to the others. "Well, you lot can't sit inside all day. Charlie, suppose you take them to that clearing you found and have some quidditch."

"Mum," Ginny said, "we didn't bring our brooms."

"I brought them with me, Gin," Charlie explained, "and Kingsley Shacklebolt came by before you were up with all of Harry's things. They're in the corner, there."

Sure enough, there was Harry's trunk, along with his Firebolt, which had been returned to him after Dolores Umbridge's departure from Hogwarts. With some help from Ron, Harry moved his trunk into their room. Then, Charlie, Ginny, Ron and Harry set off.

"There's a nice-sized clearing in the woods over this way," Charlie directed, and set off.

"Charlie, where are we anyway?" questioned Ginny. "We came by portkey and Mum never mentioned it."

"She didn't mention it," he answered, "because she was told not to. The fewer who know about this place, the better. We know you wouldn't intentionally go about telling people, but there are lots of other ways for spies to find out."

Harry started to argue, but Ron's hand on his arm stopped him. "No point in arguing Harry," Ron hissed, "not when he looks like that."

Harry looked over at Charlie's set jaw and narrowed eyes. He had to admit, Ron had a point.

They walked the rest of the way through the woods to the clearing in silence. It was a hot, still day with the only sounds coming from the birds and insects. When they came out of the shade of the woods and into the sun filled clearing, Ginny gasped.

"It's already set up for quidditch!" she exclaimed, pointing at the goal hoops at either end of the oblong area. "Charlie, did you do this?"

"Guilty as charged," laughed Charlie. "The spot is too perfect to not use. I stopped here on my way to the house this morning and made a few arrangements. As long as we don't go above the level of the trees, we're okay."

So, the four spent the rest of the morning on Charlie's quidditch field. At first, Charlie led them in some warm up and practice maneuvers with Ron as keeper, Harry as his beater, and Ginny and Charlie playing chasers trying to score on him. Harry could see that Ron had really improved and Ginny made quite a respectable chaser. He remembered she had wanted to move to that position upon Harry's return to the team.

That made Harry wonder. Although Professor McGonagall had returned his broom on the last day of school, nothing had been said about lifting the life-time ban issued by Umbridge. Surely, with her departure and Dumbledore's return, Harry would be allowed to return to the team. He fervently hoped so.

After a bit, they switched to a two on two game with Ron and Charlie as keepers and Ginny and Harry as chasers. They were well matched and the score was still tied, 60-60, when the agreed to call it a draw and head back for lunch.

Harry was feeling particularly satisfied and more than a little sleepy as they sat at the kitchen table chatting after lunch. He was just thinking of a nice doze in a comfortable chair someplace when Mrs. Weasley roused him.

"Harry, Annwyl is awake and a bit stronger today," she said. "She's been asking for a chance to see you."

Surprised, but admittedly curious, Harry rose to follow Mrs. Weasley from the room. As he reached the door, Charlie called after him.

"Harry, remember, we don't know where she'd been all these years or why she's turned up now. She may be alright, but... well, just be careful." Harry nodded and left.

When they reached the door of Annwyl's room, Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry.

"Harry, I know Charlie has warned you already so I won't fuss. Just remember, she's still very weak. Try not to tire her out before tonight's meeting. Dumbledore wants the Order to hear the story directly from her and she'll need her strength." With that, she opened the door and leaned in. "Annwyl, Harry's come to see you."

She nudged Harry through the door and departed, saying something about dinner preparations as she moved off.

"Er, hello, Miss King," Harry said, somewhat uncomfortably.

"Oh, come in an sit down, Harry," Annwyl answered smoothly, "and do call me Annwyl."
Harry moved to the chair she had indicated, watching her with interest. The bandages on her neck and shoulder were gone and the only visible remains of her injuries was a slight pink tinge to the recently healed skin. She was still quite pale and tired looking and Harry assumed this to be from the loss of blood and the effects of the magic which had complicated her wounds.

Now, in better light and with Annwyl awake, he was able to see what she actually looked like. As Harry had seen before, she was quite a small woman. Her most remarkable feature was certainly her hair which was very dark brown, wildly curly and was long enough to reach her waist. Otherwise, her features, while not displeasing, were not particularly striking. Her expression was pleasant enough, but there was something about her mouth and eyes which made Harry fell this woman would not be easy to know.

While Harry had been watching Annwyl, she had, evidently, been watching him. After a moment, she nodded.

"Remus was right. You are like your father, yet also like your mother."

Harry did not respond, but endeavored to keep a look of polite interest. He had heard, many times, how much he resembled his father.

"Your features are James'," she continued, "but your expressions are Lily's. I suppose you'd like to ask some questions of me, Harry?"

He was slightly taken aback by the abrupt invitation, but after a moment's thought, he nodded. "Well, of course, Miss... er, Annwyl, I guess we'd all like to ask where you've been all these years when everyone thought you were dead."

"Certainly," she answered, placidly. "I understand Albus wants me to address the Order this evening on that very subject, as well as on how I happened to arrive at the Dursley residence and the attacks which killed the Order operative and injured me. If you'll be so kind as to indulge me, I'll wait until the meeting to answer those questions. Any others?"

She smoothed the bedclothes carefully with her hands. As she did so, the sleeve of her pajama top pulled up, revealing the scar on her right arm which Harry had seen the night she arrived.

"Would you mind telling me how you happened to get that scar? Did you get it while you were an Auror?"

"Remus told me you were thinking of being an Auror," Annwyl smiled a little. "No, this scar is much older than that.

"Harry, do you know anything about fencing?"

"Er, what, like wrought iron or picket or something?" Harry answered, much puzzled.

"No, no," Annwyl replied, "I mean swordplay. Like in those old muggle films with the Musketeers and Robin Hood and such." Harry shook his head. "Well, I'll explain the whole sport another time," she went on. "To make a long story short, years ago, I found myself in a a real fight with, of all crazy things, rapiers - sharp ones, mind. The bloke I was fighting managed to come across my arm with his blade and since I was certainly no healer, by the time I found someone who was, the cut was on its way to becoming a scar. It didn't help that the blade that did it was enchanted with on of the lesser dark curses to hinder healing."

"How in the world did you get in a fight like that?" Harry questioned, curious about a fight which seemed so very dangerous.

"I came across the fellow in Diagon Alley a few days before start of term, my sixth year," said Annwyl. "He was shooting off his mouth about my house and I decided I didn't like his attitude. I let my temper get the better of me and agreed to a bout on his terms. I was arrogant enough to believe I could take him, whatever the circumstances." She shook her head reminiscently. "Stupid way to behave, really."

"So what happened?" pressed Harry.

"Ah, well, I allowed him to choose our weapons so he brought our a pair of rapiers. His, of course, was cursed to really hurt while mine was hexed to resist the will of the one wielding it. Luckily for me, the hex wasn't strong and I was able to get around it. I gave my new friend some pretty new marks on his cheeks and he turned tail and fled, but not before cutting my arm. At least, he learned to avoid me at school."

"He must have been Slytherin," Harry observed, darkly. "They really can't stand Gryffindors, can they?"

"Actually, no," Annwyl said. "He was Hufflepuff, which was rather surprising, and I was Ravenclaw. Usually, the houses got along fine."

There was a tap at the door and Mrs. Weasley looked in. "Harry, dear, I think it would be best to let Annwyl have some time to rest now. She's going to need her strength for this evening. Is there anything you need, Annwyl?"

"No, thank you very much, Molly," Annwyl replied. "I believe I shall just do as you suggest and rest, for now."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and left. Harry looked curiously at Annwyl, wondering why her eyes and voice had suddenly grown cool. Frowning to himself, he rose to go. "It was nice talking with you, Annwyl."

"Wait, Harry," she said, her hand outstretched, "we never got around to talking about you and I would like to know more about you. We will talk again soon, won't we? I should be getting about by tomorrow."

She gave him a keen look, making him squirm a bit. Nodding, he left the room. Harry was headed back toward the kitchen when Ron met him in the sitting room door.

"There you are," he said. "Ginny says you aren't allowed in the kitchen until dinner. She's decorating and has Charlie helping her. I've been banished, as well, and even Professor Lupin has been given the bum's rush. So, come on and let's have some chess or something."

"Yes, Harry," said Remus over Ron's shoulder, "come join us. I've just got in and haven't had a chance to celebrate your birthday, yet. And, by the way Ron, I haven't been your professor for more than two years. I think you ought to call me Remus."

The three went in and sat down by the low table in front of the hearth. Harry's thoughts were still on his recent talk with Annywyl. Ron started to ask questions, but Harry gave him a look that clearly said, "Later."

"Remus," Harry said, "how did you come to know Annwyl?"

"Well, she was Dumbledore's goddaughter," Remus shrugged. "I don't suppose there's much mystery to that. She was a couple years behind us in school and she was a Ravenclaw so we didn't know her well, but we had met. Of course, once we were all working in the Order we knew each other better." He chuckled. "At one point, she was even teaching me to fence."

"You mean that muggle stuff where you fight with swords?" asked Ron, eagerly. "Dad told us about that. It's supposed to be a means of disciplining the mind. Some even call it a physical form of chess." This explained his interest to Harry.

"Yeah, she talked about fencing," Harry said, thoughtfully. "I asked about the scar on her arm."

"Well, her father was a champion and trained her from the time she could hold a foil," Remus said. "She does use it as a form of mental self-control. In fact, that's why she taught me. Lycanthropy can induce some emotional volatility, especially near the full moon. Wyl though fencing would help me focus, and it did, at least, as long as I had a partner for bouting."

"D'you think she'd teach us, once she's feeling better?" asked Ron.

"I don't know, Ron," answered Remus, doubtfully. "It's pretty demanding, physically. I guess it depends on her recovery."

Somehow, Harry felt they'd talked about Annwyl King enough for one day. Charlie's warning was fresh in his memory and he couldn't shake the impression that she would be very difficult to know. All that, plus her strange arrival on Privet Drive aroused Harry's distrust, despite her being Dumbledore's goddaughter and her friendly conversation earlier. After a moment's silence, Harry spoke up changing the subject.

"Let's have a game then, yeah? Since there are three of us, how about Exploding Snap?"

"Oh, I haven't played in years," Remus protested, laughing.

"But it's my birthday..." whined Harry, his lip out in a mock pout. Ron joined him in looking as comically pitiful as possible.

"Alright, alright!" Remus gave in. "Just, for goodness sake, stop looking like that. It's frightening."

So, the rest of the afternoon was spent in the sitting room. The stresses of the last couple days found their way out of Harry by way of some particularly rash moves during the game which resulted in more than one singed finger. Remus was especially glad when they were called to dinner and entered the kitchen, still nursing a smoking eyebrow.
Harry entered the kitchen and stopped in amazement. Ginny and Charlie had outdone themselves. The ceiling was lit with tiny fluttering fairylights. Streamers festooned the molding around the room in bright and constantly changing colors. A ring of small lanterns floated over the table.

"Wow," breathed Harry. "This is brilliant!"

Mrs. Weasley waved them all to their seats and, just before sitting down, Harry remembered the look in Ginny's eye when she volunteered to decorate. He surreptitiously looked over his seat, but it seemed okay. Another quick glance under and behind the chair revealed nothing so Harry gave up and sat down. Once seated, he was able to see all Mrs. Weasley's preparations on his behalf. The table was, again, loaded with dishes, featuring all Harry's favorites.

Mr. Weasley and Bill had arrived, so as soon as everyone was seated, Ginny cleared her throat and announced in an unusually solemn tone, "Happy birthday, Harry." As if signaled by her words, two dozen fairylights dropped from the ceiling and zoomed around Harry's head in dizzy patterns.

"Hey! What the...watch it!... Oh, go on!... GINNY!" Harry exclaimed as the fairies whizzed past his nose, nearly taking his glasses with them.

There was no assistance for Harry, though, as the whole table had dissolved in helpless laughter. Even Mrs. Weasley could be seen dabbing at her eyes.

"They're Following Formation Fairies, Harry," Ginny gasped, grinning. "Fred and George's latest. They're charmed to hover in formation over the guest of honor for as long as he or she is in the room."

Harry was brushing the persistent creatures away from his face and noticed a tiny, tinkling sound. "Ginny, are they... laughing?"

By now, the Weasleys were in such a state they could scarcely draw breath. "Don't worry," Ginny managed at last, "they'll settle into patterns over your head in a moment."
Sure enough, after a few more wild passes before Harry's eyes, the fairies began a much calmer series of intricate formations about six inches above his head. Harry was left to eat in relative peace as they formed circles, triangles and star patterns with tight precision.

After eating all the steak and kidney pie he could hold, Harry was slowly finishing his treacle tart when Tonks entered from the garden door.

"Ooo! Is that treacle tart I smell?" she asked, inhaling deeply. "Oh, Molly, please tell me there's a bit left for a weary woman."

Tonks closed her eyes and put the back of her hand to her forehead, tragically. Mrs. Weasley answered by laughingly conjuring another chain and place at the table as Bill passed the tart.

"Ah, brilliant," said Tonks, settling at the table with a satisfied sigh. "Many happy returns of the day, Harry, I'm sure. I did my hair specially, just for the occasion. Like it?" Harry gazed in amused wonder at her. Instead of her usual brightly colored spikes, Tonks had done her hair in tightly twisted, multicolored corkscrews.

"It's great," he told her, grinning.

"Thanks! By the way, I love what you've done with your fairies." As she spoke, they formed a sparkly heart over Harry's head, causing him to give them a mildly impatient swat. "Oh, and Hermione asked me to bring this to you," Tonks added, passing a small package over to Harry.

Harry opened the attached note first and, smiling, read Hermione's tiny, perfect script aloud.

Happy Birthday, Harry!

Tonks was good enough to deliver this for me, so I knew it would be on time. She told me a bit of what happened at the Dursleys. I'm glad you are safely at
headquarters now, but I must admit to being a bit jealous. It's dull as a wet day here.

At least, there isn't anything to distract me from my homework. I've nearly finished
now. (At this, Ron rolled his eyes and Ginny giggled.)

I hope you enjoy your gift. The advertisement said it was the latest model and guaranteed to be accurate.

Love,
From Hermione

Inside the wrapping was a box labeled, "From the makers of Qwik Qwotes Qwills - The Qwiktate Qwill, guaranteed 100% accurate, excellent for students."

"Wow," said Harry, reading the inner packaging, "this says it will accurately record anything I say." He looked at the scarlet quill appreciatively. "I hope it is as accurate as it says. Imagine me turning in a Transfiguration essay written with one of Rita Skeeter's quills."

Once everyone was again busy with dessert and conversations, Remus leaned over and spoke in Harry's ear.

"Harry, I have a gift for you, as well, but I think it might be better for you to see it someplace more, er, private. Let's go out in the garden."

They excused themselves and slipped out into the dusk. Harry noticed the moon was nearly full. Remus was in for a hard time of it in a few days. Harry knew Moony had had Padfoot's company for all the full moons of the last couple of years. This would be only the second full moon since Sirius' death.

Seating themselves on a stone bench not far from the house, Remus turned to Harry, holding a small box. "Harry, this gift really isn't from me, at all. The original giver was your father. James gave this to Sirius on his sixteenth birthday. It matched one your grandfather had given James at the same time. Unfortunately, James' was destroyed... Well, I know Sirius was planning to give this to you today. Really, the gift is his."

Harry took the box, his hands shaking. Lifting the lid, he drew out a lovely silver pocket watch. The exterior of the case was quite plain, but the inside of the lid, when opened, revealed engraving on the silver surface.

Go where you will, the bond of affection remains.

"It is amazing," said Harry softly. "Remus, I don't know what to say."

"Just keep it with you, Harry. It meant a great deal to Sirius and it would please him and James to know it was with you now."

Harry sat staring at the watch, his heart swelling with emotion which choked off all speech. Into this quiet scene, Mr Weasley reluctantly entered.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but it's time you were both inside. The Order is arriving."

HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter Four - Coming to Order

Harry and Remus reentered the kitchen to find Ron and Ginny sitting alone at the table.

"They're all in the sitting room. They're just waiting on you and Kingsley Shacklebolt to get started." Ginny's voice curled with disgust. "We aren't welcome."

"You'd think after all that's happened, you know, with the D.A. and all, they'd let us hear her story, anyway," grumbled Ron. "I know the twins aren't in there either, but that's only because someone had to stay at The Burrow and look after things." He sighed deeply as Ginny rolled her eyes.

Although Harry's reappearance had, again, drawn the Following Formation Fairies, even they seemed affected by the mood which hung over the table like a cloud. They swung in a slow circle over Harry's head as he spoke.

"Oh, come on. You know I'll come right back and tell you everything, anyway. Tell you what, Ron. Why don't you two get that charm book Bill and Charlie gave me and start looking up spells to use on Malfoy."

Ron gave Harry a lopsided grin. "Yeah, you'll be telling me everything. Like you could avoid it... Alright, c'mon Gin, we may as well have a look at those hexes. You never know, they might be dead useful." He and Ginny rose from the table and followed Remus out of the room. Harry followed, as well, leaving his fairies behind.

Remus and Harry hurried into the sitting room. Harry noticed quite a change since he, Remus and Ron had been playing cards there earlier in the day. The furniture had been transfigured into rows of straight backed chairs. At the end of the room, opposite the fireplace, several chairs sat in a semi-circle, facing the others. Remus steered Harry toward the semi-circle where Tonks, Diggle, and Annwyl were already seated. As Harry sat down between Tonks and Remus, he stole a glance at Annwyl. She sat a bit apart from the others, taking no part in conversation as the others in the room were doing. Her face was still rather pale and her eyes were fixed high on the opposite wall. Her expression was calm but Harry noticed her hands were clenched in tight fists in her lap.
Standing to one side, conferring quietly and looking over the assembled group was Dumbledore and, to Harry's distinct displeasure, the Hogwarts Potions Master, Severus Snape. As he watched the two men, Harry could feel his own lip curling in distaste. Snape was as unpleasant looking as ever, his long, dark hair lank about his sharp, sallow face. As he listened to the headmaster speak, Snape looked in Harry's direction. As their eyes met, Snape's habitual sneer deepened. Harry stared, unblinking, unwilling to be the first to look away. After a moment, Snape looked away with a flare of his nostrils.

"Easy, Harry. It won't do anyone any good to have the two of you constantly at each other's throats," Remus hissed in his ear. He had seen what had passed between them and was looking at Harry with concern.

"Well, Harry," said Tonks, leaning in from the other side, unaware of any tension, "there's Kingsley, now. That should do us. Are you ready to tell your story?"

"What? Me?" asked Harry, much surprised. "I thought we were going to hear Annwyl's version."

"Yes, but the group will need to hear your version, as well as anything Tonks, Diggle and I can tell them," Remus explained.

Dumbledore had moved to stand directly in front of Harry's chair, facing the others in the room. He raised his hands and hemmed and a hush came over the group as they took their seats. "My friends," the old headmaster began, "I thank you for your prompt attendance this evening."

Harry was struck anew at how much Albus Dumbledore had seemed to age in recent years. Tonight, his white hair and beard seemed to have aged to near transparency. The lines of his face had deepened and the blue eyes, though bright and alert as ever, did not twinkle with any trace of humor.

"Since Voldemort's exposure at the Ministry more than a month ago, we have been waiting for signs of his next course of action," Dumbledore went on. "Two nights ago, we received that sign, although, as we have come to expect, the Ministry is hesitant to act upon it. I want you to hear the story directly from those involved in that night's events. I invite Remus Lupin to begin."

So, Remus rose and told his story - how Hestia Jones had been on duty at Privet Drive that night, how he had received an urgent message from Arabella Figg about a magical person crossing the wards around the Dursleys' house. Then, he nodded to Harry, who came to stand beside him. Once again, Harry poured out his story. When he had finished, he and Remus resumed their seats. Dedalus Diggle stood with Tonks and they described what had occurred after they left Remus and Harry.

Not surprisingly, they found no trace of the attacker. They suspected some sort of connection with Voldemort, but no Dark Mark had been cast. In fact, Hestia's injuries did not resemble anything they had ever seen before. The two remained on guard the rest of that night and there had been the usual guard since then, but Privet Drive remained quiet.
When Tonks and Diggle were seated again, Dumbledore spoke.

"And so, you see our dilemma. Madame Pomfrey came from Hogwarts to attend to Annwyl King, but rather than shedding light on the situation, her observations were befuddling. It was not until the following afternoon, when I was able to speak with Miss King, that I was able to discern a pattern in these events."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. “When did Dumbledore talk to Annwyl? I never saw him," he whispered to Remus.

"Later, Harry," answered Remus, quietly. "It's a bit hard to explain."

In the meantime, Annwyl had gone forward to stand beside her godfather. Despite knowing whom they were to see and hear, a hum of whispers rose from the group upon seeing her stand. Annwyl seemed oblivious to the excitement. She gave her godfather a solemn look, then turned to the others to speak.

"I daresay you will all have numerous questions to ask me," she began, her voice cool and detached. “As I am certain that some, at least, will be answered in the course of my story, I ask that you wait until all is told before voicing them." She paused for a moment, looking around. Taking their silence as acquiescence, she nodded briefly, took a deep breath and began her tale.

"For those of you not familiar with my history, I was, in the previous war against the Dark Lord, a member of this Order and a newly trained Auror for the Ministry. Like many, my training was abbreviated so as to make us available for duty sooner. So, after only one year of training and lacking some of the current academic requirements, I entered field duty with the Auror Corps at age 19. I served for nearly one year.

"I must take you back to the night of my disappearance nearly 15 years ago in order to properly explain my reappearance on Privet Drive. It was mid November, roughly two weeks after the attack on the Potters and the scattering of the Dark Order. I, and seven other Aurors were staging a raid on a meeting of suspected Death Eaters still at large. Upon our arrival, it became obvious that not only was it a Dark Order meeting, the group was some three times larger than our informant had led us to believe and they have been warned of our arrival. We found ourselves outnumbered, three to one, and they were prepared to kill.

"As some of you may remember, seven Death Eaters were captured that night, but two Aurors were killed and I was ultimately presumed dead, as well. A great loss, indeed, but I did not learn of it for several days. I know several Aurors reported having seen me fall to an unknown curse and then disappear. It was assumed that the fall and disappearance was the result of one fatal spell. As you can see, that was not the case. I was, in fact, hit with two spells a split-second apart. The first was a stunning spell, though cast with rather more strength than is usual. The second was a form of banishing charm. I have, since, researched the spell and I learned that this Exilae charm is actually part of the Dark Arts. Exilae does not merely banish, it removes altogether. The distance the object, or in this case, person moves depends upon the power injected into the charm when it is cast. In this instance, the spell was a powerful one. I found myself some thirty kilometers from where I had been fighting.

"So, I regained consciousness in a wooded area, unfamiliar to me, and I was not able to determine how long I had been stunned. After walking an hour or so, I came upon a farmhouse where I was able to obtain a meal, some directions toward London, and an opportunity to read a muggle newspaper. I found I had been unconscious nearly three days.

"Since I now knew where I was, I was able to Apparate back to my flat where I intended to contact the Ministry and the Order immediately. However, upon arriving home, I found in the owl post box, a copy of The Prophet from the morning after the raid. It listed me among the dead. Now, I might have corrected them, of course, but I was stopped by the only other letter in the box. It was unsigned but for a small rendering of the Dark Mark. It said that the faithful of the Dark Lord were aware I had not been killed. They were seeking me particularly so as to revenge themselves upon my godfather. It seemed they blamed him, most particularly, for their master's downfall.

"At this point, I formulated a new plan. I could go into hiding and serve as a spy for the Order. Most already considered me dead. Assuming a new identity would be no challenge. I had only to avoid a handful of revenge-starved Death Eaters. You see, I agreed with my godfather that while the Dark Order was disbanded, their master could not, due to the nature of the sort of magic he practiced, be dead, but only temporarily thwarted. I hoped that providing information to the Order anonymously, his return might be delayed until his power was spent.

"This, then, is what I did. For the past nearly fifteen years I have been a shadow spy for the Order. On many occasions, Albus has received information in various ways, all originating from me, although he was completely unaware of this. For the safety of all concerned, I deemed it best that the source be known to no one.

However, recently, the news I had gathered was of such a strange and complex nature, I decided to sacrifice my secrecy and contact the Order directly. I was in the process of doing this two nights ago when I was attacked."

Annwyl paused a moment and looked around. Harry followed her glance and saw more than one skeptical look. He couldn't blame them. He thought, himself, her story sounded a bit off. Even Mr. Weasley, standing at the opposite end of the room wore a calculating look unusual to him. Snape, Harry noticed, was sneering in disdain, and eerily, a touch of amusement. Seeing the doubt, Annwyl squared her shoulders and continued.

"I was trying to make direct contact with the Order to explain the latest plans to attack throughout Britain. Through a series of highly discreet contacts, I have learned that the Dark Lord intends to develop his abilities in Legilimency, enhancing them with a variety of Dark spells of his own devising. It seems his goal is to be able to impose upon his victims, souls of his own creation, thus creating entirely faithful and suggestible serpents."

At this, the murmuring broke out anew. Annwyl took her seat and Harry noticed she was shaking and even more pale. He looked at Remus next to him. The older man's face was still, his eyes thoughtful. Dumbledore, once again, raised his hand for silence.

"Since hearing Miss King's story yesterday, I have had several operatives checking on Voldemort's progress in this area. Additionally, several others have been looking into the attacks on Annwyl and Hestia Jones." Dumbledore sighed a little. "It seems Voldemort's progress was demonstrated in the attacks. As you have already heard, the wounds sustained by the two are, in appearance, consistent with a werewolf attack. Based on an eyewitness account given by one of the Dursleys' neighbors, there was a man in dark robes wandering about Privet Drive shortly after the attack. The witness was able to give quite and accurate description before his memory was modified by a Ministry representative. His description of the stranger strongly resembles Miss King's description of her attacker. The witness also described the man as aimless - looking as though he wasn't actually seeing anything or was able to take notice of anything passing around him. He was not, however, at any time, described as a werewolf."

Harry stole a glance at Remus. He was rigid, his eyes closed, his face white. Harry longed to say something, but couldn't think what. Dumbledore was still addressing the group.
"While we are, as yet, unable to determine precisely what occurred, I have formulated an hypothesis. Since the breach of Azkaban, we can assume the dementors to be in Voldemort's service. I fear, Voldemort has chosen to practice and perfect his soul imposition spells on individuals who have been kissed. Their absence of souls would render them highly suitable subjects for his experimentation. I believe the attack near the Dursley residence was a trial run in which Voldemort imposed the semblance of a werewolf soul upon one who had been kissed."

The vague murmurs escalated into outcries of alarm. The headmaster stretched out his hands placatingly. "Now, now. My friends, we must keep our heads. While we do not know how the process is accomplished or how to prevent it, we can be reassured that the spell seems, at this time, to be temporary."

Harry felt this was small comfort in the face of totally unpredictable werewolf attacks. However, before anyone could comment aloud, a wizard Harry didn't know entered the room. The man came forward and Harry noticed a badge on his robes which indicated he was a Ministry Auror. He stopped before Dumbledore and offered a parchment.

"Albus, I've just come from the Ministry. Muggle police picked up a muggle male who matches the description of the fellow seen wandering around Privet Drive. Ministry Aurors have been monitoring any muggle arrests resembling then man. Two Aurors were dispatched immediately. They examined the detainee. He has, most certainly, been kissed."

At this, several rose and looked questioningly at Dumbledore. One, whom Harry recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt, spoke.

"Albus, perhaps you had better carry on without those of us who are Aurors. This latest is sure to cause a bit of a blow up and I imagine we shall all be summoned for duty."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore agreed. "The sooner we get the facts of the situation, the better."

Next to Harry, Tonks rose. Dropping him a wink and whispering one last wish for a happy birthday, she joined the other exiting Aurors. They were stopped, however, by a commotion in the hall outside the door. Dumbledore waved to Arthur Weasley, who brought the Aurors back, along with, to everyone's surprise, George Weasley.

"What in the world are you doing here?" demanded Mr. Weasley. "Where's Fred?"

"Sorry, Dad, I used your emergency portkey," George answered, looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "Fred and I had just finished tending to the wards at home, when we got an urgent owl from Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. He was contacting all the Diagon Alley merchants. There's been some sort of attack. Bloody big, from the sound of it. Fred wanted to go straight away, but I talked him into waiting until I got back. I think some of the Order ought to come."

"Albus," Remus spoke up, "suppose I go with Dedalus and Mundungus. No one would think twice seeing us there. And, perhaps, Arthur had better bet home and wait for official notice from the Ministry."

"Dedalus and Mundungus should go, certainly, and perhaps Charlie Weasley could join them. Arthur, you should go home and await word." Dumbledore held up a hand, cutting off Remus' objection. "No, Remus. I can't allow you to go. If this should be another attack staged to appear the work of werewolves, you would certainly end in Ministry custody. No, it is too great a risk. There will be to much panic and too little information."

At this, Dumbledore turned to various people, sending some to Ministry offices and others to notify Order members not present. "Bill," Dumbledore addressed the eldest Weasley son, "perhaps you could go and relieve Alastor Moody of his duty on Privet Drive. I am certain he shall be anxious to go to Diagon Alley himself."

In moments, nearly everyone in the room had scattered under the old wizard's direction. There remained, with him, only Harry, Remus, Annwyl, Snape and Professor McGonagall, whom Harry had not even noticed until that moment.

"Minerva," the headmaster said, "I think you, Remus and I should return to Hogwarts. We can receive updates there quite promptly as well as discuss a few other... tactical concerns."

Harry, watching all that passed, froze suddenly, hearing Snape speaking behind him. The professor's voice was a low, silken hiss which made Harry shudder. Then he realized with a start that Snape was not speaking to him, but to Annwyl, who was still slumped in her chair.

"As lamentable as this attack shall certainly prove to be, how fortunate for you, Miss King. They seem to have forgotten their questions."

Harry shifted slightly in his seat so as to watch the pair surreptitiously. Snape was leaning slightly over the high back of Annwyl's chair, his left hand on the arm. Annwyl, nearly as pale as the night she was attacked, was staring stonily back at the Potions Master, saying nothing.

"To satisfy my own curiosity," Snape went on, "I had thought to ask several questions, myself. I would ask why, when all other still-active Death Eaters sought an infant Potter to revenge their master, this group of which you speak sought to strike so obliquely at Albus Dumbledore." His voice lowered further to a near snarl. "And, I would ask how such a young and inexperienced Auror, who's transfiguration abilities were particularly lacking, was able to hid her identity whilst spying so very effectively for nearly fifteen years - without ever once leaving any trace or hint of her existence."

Harry had to admire Annwyl's reflexes. Weak and shaking as she visibly was, her hand shot forward, pushing back the left sleeve of Snape's robes. The cold, vicious looking Dark Mark, Voldemort's brand, glared startlingly against the sallow skin.

"Indeed, Professor Snape. Questions can be so extremely awkward, can they not?" Annwyl's voice was quiet with icy calm.

Snape drew himself upright quickly, pulling away his arm. Without a glance or word to anyone, he swept from the room, his black robes swirling as he went. Annwyl was still sitting, statue-still, when Mrs. Weasley entered the room.

"Albus, if you are all leaving now, surely it would be alright for Annwyl to get back to bed. She is still recovering and this is all very draining for her, I'm sure." She approached Annwyl as Dumbledore nodded. "Come on, then, Annwyl. Let's get you back to your room, shall we? Harry, suppose you take her other arm?"

Having just heard her speak to the Order and hold her ground before Snape, Harry was surprised to find, now, that all Annwyl's strength seemed to have left her. She didn't speak, but leaned heavily on Harry and Mrs. Weasley as they helped her down the hall to her room. Reaching the door, Mrs. Weasley, turned to Harry.

"Thank you, Harry. We can manage from here. Ron and Ginny are having a snack in the kitchen before bed. Suppose you join them."

When Harry entered the kitchen a moment later, Ron was at the table with a plate of treacle tart and Ginny was kneeling before the fire, toasting fork in hand and a bag of marshmallows by her side. Harry dropped into a chair and rested his forehead on the table. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him. It didn't feel like the same evening as the merry birthday dinner.

"Well," said Ron, expectantly, "spill it, Harry, and don't leave anything out. Ginny, toast the man a marshmallow, yeah?" Ginny stuck her tongue out in reply, but speared another marshmallow just the same.

"What happened to the Formation Fairies?" asked Harry, looking around.

"The charm wears off in a few hours, just like regular fairylights," Ginny replied, handing him a lightly browned candy. "Careful, it's still a bit warm. So?"

Harry blew on the candy, cooling it while he collected his thoughts. There really was an awful lot to tell. When he had finished chewing, he launched into his story, leaving nothing out, including the odd exchange between Snape and Annwyl.

"Well," said Ron, when Harry had finished, "we reckoned something big was up when George turned up. He looked like he'd smelled a troll."

"There's something odd about Annwyl's story, isn't there?" Ginny commented, thoughtfully rotating the toasting fork over the flames. "I mean, why would a Death Eater have used such an obscure banishing charm? Why not just cast a body bind and carry her off? And what does an Exilae charm actually do? Did she disappear and reappear thirty kilometers away or did she go soaring over the countryside? Sounds a bit dodgy, if you ask me."

"We could use Hermione and the Hogwarts library about now," answered Harry.

"I never thought I'd be saying this," said Ron, after a few moments' thought, "and I'm betting it's going to hurt when I do, but... I think I have to go along with Snape, here. How did she hide all this time?"

"It's funny, you know," mused Harry. "She was perfectly pleasant when I was talking to her this afternoon, but I never got the impression she was actually talking to me - more like she was talking through me. You know, like her mind wasn't really on what she was saying at all."

"Ordinarily, I'd say Snape distrusting her is practically a ringing endorsement," said Ron, frowning.

"Yeah," Harry answered, "but this time, I'm not so sure."

Mrs. Weasley came in at that moment and looked at them in surprise.

"Are you three still up, then? I thought you'd have gone off ages ago."

"We want to wait up for Dad," Ginny said, her eyes pleading.

"Oh, no, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered, "it'll be hours before anyone knows anything. You lot may as well get to bed. I daresay there'll be news in the morning."

Knowing no amount of arguing would sway her, Harry, Ron and Ginny rose and said goodnight. After one more thank you for the birthday supper, Harry followed the other two out of the kitchen.

They separated at the stairs, Ginny going up to her room which was next to her parents' and Ron and Harry turning down the hall to theirs. They moved about quietly, knowing Annwyl's room was just across from their's. There was no sound from her room. It seemed only a few minutes before Ron's snores filled the night, but Harry lay awake, thinking over everything he'd seen and heard. Nothing got any clearer, however, and after a bit, with a sigh of disgust, Harry rolled over and forced himself to sleep.

DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder... I own none of this. It is all the brainchild of JK Rowling and all the benefits of her creative genius goes to a her and a host of other people. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Note: Many thanks, as always to my beta, Moriah S. Her input has been invaluable. My gratitude, also, to my reviewers. You guys make the writing fun!


HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 5 - Focusing

When Harry arrived at breakfast the next morning, Mr. Weasley was there. Ron and Ginny were poring over a single copy of The Daily Prophet while Mr. Weasley told the whole story to his wife.

"By the time Ministry aurors arrived," said Mr. Weasley, "it was pretty well over. The attack was on some people who had just come from dinner and were having a bit of window shopping before heading home. In a way, we were lucky about the time of the attack. There weren't many about at that time of night. Still, three dead and seven injured is no small matter."

"Did it look like a werewolf attack?" Harry asked. He knew, in the pit of his stomach already, but couldn't help asking - hoping for a different answer.

Mr. Weasley simply nodded. The porridge Harry had been eating congealed in his stomach and stuck in his throat. Would anyone believe that the attacks weren't really werewolves? Sure, the injured would heal, but no one had ever seen this sort of mess before. Harry had a sudden, horrible vision of Remus surrounded by a wizard lynch mob.
Breakfast was a silent meal after that. Once Ron and Ginny finished reading The Prophet's account of the attack, Ginny pushed the paper over to Harry. Her eyes were wide and her freckles were vivid in her pale face. Reading only the headlines was enough to tell Harry that the outlook wasn't good. The banner headline read,

WEREWOLVES ATTACK DIAGON ALLEY

and there was a list of related articles down the right side of the page which were even more damning.

No Full Moon - Werewolf Physiology Changing?
Is You-Know-Who Involved? Does He Control the Werewolves?
Werewolves Unpredictable - Who Do We Trust?

Harry skimmed the front page, but it didn't offer anything Mr. Weasley hadn't already told them. The inner stories said more. While they did admit the injured would not be permanently affected, there was no mention of Dumbledore's theory that these were not werewolves at all, but mere shells of humans, manipulated to behave like werewolves. Instead, there were accusations against the medical community, implying there had been a cover up hiding the volatility and unpredictable nature of Lycanthropy.

Shortly after breakfast, Mr. Weasley left to return to his office. Charlie arrived at the same time, bringing owl post from The Burrow.

"Oh good," said Mrs. Weasley. "I've been looking forward to Witch Weekly. A bit of light reading can do wonders for your state of mind."

"Gin," said Charlie with a grin, "here's one for you. Looks like Dean Thomas' writing. Shall I read it out for you, then?"

Ginny snatched the note from his hand, giving her brother a nasty look.

"Watch her, you should," commented Ron, meaningfully. "You haven't seen her use the Furnunculus curse yet." Ron shuddered. "Though I don't know what she sees in Thomas, anyway."

"Dean's alright," said Harry, wanting to stop one of Ron's tirades. "Mrs. Weasley, where is Annwyl?"

"Having a bit of a lie in. Last night's meeting was very hard on her. She should be up for dinner this evening," she answered.

Ron then suggested some flying and Harry was glad to agree. His head always felt clearer after a good quidditch workout. Charlie begged off, saying he had some work for Dumbledore, though he wouldn't say what. Ron and Harry set off for the clearing on their own.

In the afternoon, Harry and Ron, joined by Ginny, sat in the big sitting room, its furnishings returned to their normal state. At first, they talked about the attack in Diagon Alley and about the Order meeting. However, it wasn't long before they had exhausted the subjects. Too little was known and, although Harry felt more in the loop than last year, there was nothing they could do while then waited at headquarters.

"I wish we could find out more about Legilimency," Ginny said, her fingers drumming on her knee. "Harry, are you certain that's all Snape ever told you? Just that it is more than just mind reading?"

"Well, yeah," answered Harry, frowning. "He never really talked to me much in those Occlumency lessons, you know? Mostly, we snapped at one another."

"Oh, drop it," sighed Ron. "We're just thinking in circles now. I say we need to give it a bit of a rest. C'mon and let's have some chess."

Harry suggested Ron and Ginny have the first fame and he would take on the winner. As the two red heads bent over the chess board, Harry sat back, watching, but not really seeing. He was thinking back to the aborted Occlumency lessons.

Harry thought it very possible that Snape had told him a little more about Legilimency, and he simply couldn't recall. He now had an ideal way of retrieving those memories, but Harry was afraid that if he suggested his Contemplation Sphere, Ron and Ginny would want to watch. There were definitely parts of those lessons he didn't feel like sharing with anyone, nor did he feel like explaining that fact. Sometime, when he could find a few moments alone, he'd check his memories in the sphere.

The rest of the afternoon passed in games of chess. Dinnertime brought Mr. Weasley with the latest news and, for the first time since their arrival, Annwyl joined them at the table.

They had all eagerly expected some new information by the end of the day, but found their hopes disappointed. No trace of the attackers had been found. While everyone believed it to be the work of Voldemort, officially, the Ministry was still refusing to comment. It seemed, having finally acknowledged the Dark Lord's return, Fudge had gone as far as he was willing to go. Though the resurrection of the Dark Order was undisputed, there appeared to be no plans to meet the threat posed.

"The good news in all this," said Mr. Weasley, "if you can stretch so far as to call it good, is that people are getting worried. Now that there has been an attack, everyone is asking what the Ministry intends to do."

"But," Mrs. Weasley put in, "if that scares Fudge into some foolish, hasty move..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly. When the remark remained unfinished, Ginny spoke.

"What will happen, Mum?"

"Then, Remus and all those like him will find themselves in interment camps," answered Annwyl, coldly. "Of course it will be 'for their own safety.'"

Harry sat frozen as his mind raced through the possibilities. More and even less- justified restrictions - or imprisonment - on the werewolves would make some easy prey for anyone willing to promise them freedom. Voldemort would offer them everything the Ministry had denied them. The public, already largely biased against werewolves, would turn on them entirely. How long before there was a bounty placed on Remus' head, regardless of his unswerving loyalty to Dumbledore and the Order?

The rest of the meal was eaten in a heavy silence and the dark mood did not lift in the warmth of the sitting room fire later. Annwyl had gone straight back to her room from the table. Ginny lay on her stomach on the hearth rug, apparently trying to answer Dean's letter. Mostly, she stared into the flames, brushing her quill absently back and forth across her nose. Mrs. Weasley was knitting another jumper while Ron, Harry and Mr. Weasley tried to feign interest in chess and quidditch talk. No one fooled any of the others, however. The worry was so profound, Harry was surprised he couldn't see it washing about them in great, murky waves. At last, they all gave up and headed to bed.

The next morning was very much the same. In fact, the next several days passed with very little amendment. They did receive word from Remus, saying it seemed safest all around for him to spend the full moon (now only a couple days away) in a dungeon room at Hogwarts Castle. Dumbledore had, apparently, fixed up one, particularly, to accommodate Remus through his transformation with as much comfort and safety as possible.

Harry was relieved that Remus would be safe, but he couldn't help feeling restless and frustrated. The connection between Voldemort and any form of Lycanthropy was something Harry wanted, very much, to discuss with Remus. He was also worried about what new attack might come during the full moon when true werewolves were most dangerous. It was easy to see Harry wasn't the only one worrying.

After three days of this tense waiting, the first of three days of the full moon came. That night might be the night Voldemort tipped his hand. Throughout the day, Harry was restless. He went to the quidditch clearing with Ron and Ginny as usual, but not even flying could keep his worry at bay.

In the afternoon, he sat with his Charms text, trying to complete some of the homework Professor Flitwick had set them at the end of term. However, after reading the description of the wand movements for a weaving charm four times without taking in a word, Harry tossed his textbook aside in disgust.

Annwyl entered the sitting room where Harry had been studying with Ron and Ginny. Noticing the Charms text which had obviously been cast aside, her eyebrow quirked slightly.

"What a peaceful, intellectual scene," she said, idly lifting Harry's book and rifling the pages. "It seems a pity, really, to break it up, but that is precisely what I'm going to do."
The three looked at her blankly, but Annwyl merely turned to go, motioning them to follow. Ginny shrugged and rose, so Ron and Harry followed suit. Annwyl led them into the garden and, reaching an open stretch of grass, turned to face them.

"Now that I am sufficiently recovered, I intend to resume a daily training program. I could pursue this on my own but, in my brief opportunity to observe the three of you, I find you are as much in need of training as myself. Therefore, you will join me."

Harry's eyes narrowed at her tone and Ron's jaw dropped in surprise. It was Ginny who spoke up.

"Er, I wouldn't want to seem forward or anything," she said, her voice just touched with sarcasm, "but would you mind explaining what sort of training? I mean, what if we'd rather not?"

The corners of Annwyl's mouth lifted slightly. "My dear, you have been spending quite a bit of time with your twin brothers, haven't you?" She noted the surprise on Ginny's face. "Yes, I know about Fred and George. You see, in spying for the Order, I found it necessary to become rather well acquainted with the Weasley family. However, those are stories for another day. Right now, to answer your question, Ginny, I intend to teach you to fence."

With a wave of her wand, Annwyl transfigured her clothes. She now wore close-fitting white breeches, tall socks and flexible shoes. Her white jacket was hip length and also fitted with long sleeves and a high, stiff-looking collar. Her right hand was gloved and tucked under her arm, she carried a heavy-looking metal mesh mask, clearly designed to cover all the face and a fair bit of the head. Another wave conjured a long, thin, sword.

"Let's begin with why one learns to fence," said Annwyl. "The physical aspects of fencing are well and good, but a master relies as much on mental agility as physique. Fencing teaches one proper mental focus - an ability to master one's thoughts even in moments of pressure or disarray. Remember, one's mental control must be finely honed and quite connected to one's physical control."

Harry had to admit there was some appeal in what Annwyl was saying. He thought back, reluctantly, to his failed Occlumency lessons. If only he had been able to focus, despite his anger and his dislike of Snape... He glanced over at Ron, whose eyes were bright with interest. He remembered how eager Ron had sounded when Remus had told them of Annwyl's fencing experience. Ginny, too, was listening closely.

Annwyl then began to explain the equipment, transforming their clothes into proper fencing attire as she spoke - breeches and socks to protect the legs and permit movement, flexible rubber-soled shoes for maneuverability, the padded jacket to protect the torso and, last, the mask to protect the face and head along with its bib hanging down to protect the throat. Annwyl then conjured three more weapons which she called foils, showing them how to grip them properly.

Then, she began to work them earnest. She led them in footwork which seemed, to Harry, remarkably like dancing. He felt very awkward, shuffling back and forth in a semi-crouch as Annwyl called for them to advance or retreat. However, he did find that moving in the right direction while maintaining the position of his feet, body and foil required more concentration than he had guessed.

They spent much of the afternoon in the garden advancing, retreating, and even lunging forward with their foils extended. When Annwyl was satisfied they understood the proper movement, she conjured three targets, floating in front of them and set them to lunging, striking the targets with their foils.

Harry had often felt he was quite fit from quidditch practice but the constant demands on his legs, lower back, and even his arm from Annwyl's fencing training was beginning to make him question his fitness. When he dropped into bed that night, his legs aching with fatigue, he felt only gratitude as he dropped easily in to a deep sleep on a night he had not expected to sleep at all.

Much to everyone's surprise, morning came with no new attacks. Reports from various members of the Order were largely notable only for their lack of news. There was still no progress in figuring out how Voldemort's spells worked, but they could, at least, feel glad for the chance to catch their breaths. Each afternoon, Harry, Ron and Ginny joined Annwyl in the garden for fencing lessons. They had made good progress and were learning the motions of simple attacks and defenses, or parries, taking turns pairing with one another and with Annwyl.

About a week after the first night of the full moon, Remus returned, thinner and more tired looking, but cheerful. There still had been no new attacks and there had been, as yet, no rash reactions from the Ministry. He came upon them in the garden during a lesson and Harry was so surprised and pleased to see him, he allowed Ginny to complete a rather forceful lunge against him, unchecked.

"Rem... ugh!" Harry grunted as Ginny's foil point landed with precision in his midriff. Rubbing the sore spot vigorously, he tried again. "Remus, when did you get here?" Harry smiled.

"Only just arrived. Wyl, it didn't take you long to rope them in."

Annwyl didn't answer. Instead, she flicked her wand in his direction and went back to drilling Ron on feinting technique. Harry grinned at Remus' surprise. Annwyl's casual movement had transformed his shabby robes into crisp, white fencing garb, complete with a mask, foil and floating target. Remus just stared.

"Well, are you going to get to work or are you going to stand there gaping? I advise working, as that blank expression is exceedingly unflattering." Annwyl called, cheekily.

Remus gave a mock groan and fell into a routine of footwork and lunges like Harry and the others had been doing all week. Harry knew it had been some time since Remus had had such an opportunity, but he was impressed by the older man's obvious grace and strength as he moved lightly back and forth.

Thereafter, Remus joined them in the garden often. His work for the Order kept him away a fair amount, but he joined them as often as possible. Harry found these afternoon sessions very soothing. While he could immerse himself in the techniques, he could, to his surprise, focus himself and push away his worry over the attacks and his grief over Sirius. Even more valuable, perhaps, was the fact that he was too tired at night to have nightmares.

Another week passed in this way with no new attacks or information regarding Voldemort's new tactics. Remus returned after a two day absence bringing a letter for Harry, Ron and Ginny from Hermione. Remus had taken a guard shift at the Granger's house and Hermione took the opportunity to send her letter back with him. Mostly, she wrote of the numerous books she had been reading, preparing for NEWT level courses in the coming year. She had earned 10 OWLs with none below an E and had already begun plotting out study schedules. Still, despite all her studying, she was bored and lonely.

"...It's been lovely having a quiet summer with my parents, but I miss you all very much. Remus tells me you have all been learning to fence. I wish there was some way for me to join you. It must be loads of fun and Remus tells me it is very good for your concentration. Maybe, you all can teach me a few things when we get back to Hogwarts..."

Later that evening, Remus invited Harry to join him in the garden after supper. Sitting on a stone bench, they watched as the stars began to appear in the twilight. After sitting in companionable silence for awhile, Remus, still looking at the stars began to speak.

"Here it is, past the middle of August already, Harry. You'll be going back to school in less than two weeks and we've hardly had a chance to talk at all."

Harry nodded. He was afraid Remus might want to talk to him about Sirius, but he wasn't sure he really wanted that. It had been so much easier to just keep pushing it back in his mind... but Remus was speaking again.

"Wyl tells me you three have been doing well in your fencing lessons. She thinks she can have you begin some bouting tomorrow. I'm glad you're having this chance to fence, Harry. I want you to really make an effort to learn the mental focus Wyl is teaching you. I think it will help in your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape this coming year."

"My what?" Harry exclaimed in angry surprise. "You're joking, right? Dumbledore doesn't really expect me to go back to that... to Snape?"

"I'm afraid he does," Remus sighed heavily. "Professor Snape is in the best position to know what sort of Legilimency techniques Voldemort favors, plus, Snape is quite adept. Of course, this time, Dumbledore intends to supervise more closely. Don't fret, Harry. I know you don't want this, but you really have to do it. If Voldemort is developing new techniques, you need to prepare some defenses."

Harry didn't answer right away. He frowned thoughtfully at Venus shining brightly in the west. He then turned to look southeast at the brilliant red light which was Mars.

"Mars is unusually bright..." he murmured. "Remus, why do you think my scar didn't hurt me during those attacks?"

"There's been some speculation about that, Harry. Dumbledore believes, and I must say I think he's right, that Voldemort has found a way to block your connection to him, at least partially. However, what with blocking you and this whole soul-imposition magic, he must be draining his power pretty seriously. That could explain this long period of quiet since the Diagon Alley attack. That was a fairly big event. Voldemort must need time to recover before attempting anything like that again."

Harry thought about this for a moment, then turned to another question that had been bothering him for days. "Remus, do you trust Annwyl?"

It was Remus' turn to not answer immediately. He rose and walked a short way along the garden path and stood, his back to Harry, looking up at Mars, now the brightest point in that part of the sky.

"I don't know. I want to trust her. I want to believe all she'd told us. Certainly, her information about Voldemort is proving accurate. Too accurate, maybe..." He turned to face Harry. "Once, I could trust Annwyl King with my life. Now... just be on your guard, Harry. Just for awhile and maybe, then, we'll know..."

With that, they went back into the house, each lost in thought.

That night, Harry tossed restlessly in his sleep. He awoke often, listening carefully in the darkness as if expecting to hear something unusual. There was only the quiet of the sleeping house - quiet, that is, aside from Ron's snores. Harry had to smile, even as he sighed in frustration. Why doesn't his nose hurt every morning?

When Harry awoke for the seventh time, he saw the gray hint of dawn through the window. Rolling over and stuffing his head under his pillow, he gave one, last, valiant effort for sleep. The familiar vague prickling of his scar kept him restless. As uncomfortable as it had been, receiving Technicolor broadcasts of Voldemort's moments of intense emotion, it had, at least, the advantage of giving him some inkling of when something was happening. Now, he definitely felt, even more, at a disadvantage. Giving up on sleep at last, Harry dressed quietly and went to the kitchen. When Mrs. Weasley joined him a short while later, he had the table set and the tea steeping.

"You're an early one this morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley greeted him cheerfully. Then, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, said, "You've had a bad night. Anything the matter, dear?"

"Nothing special, Mrs. Weasley, thanks. Just didn't sleep well is all."

Despite a strong cup of tea, however, Harry still felt rather foggy from fatigue. The vague, faraway feeling persisted through the day. Annwyl frowned at his inability to concentrate that afternoon. As Remus had said she would, Annwyl began bouting with them, but even though he had looked forward to this very much, Harry was having too much trouble pulling himself together to really enjoy it.

At dinner, Harry was particularly quiet, picking listlessly at his plate and paying little attention to conversations going on around him. Ron was watching him with a concerned look and finally spoke up.

"Harry, what's wrong with you today, anyway? It's like you're on some other planet."

Harry looked up, trying to focus on his friend's face but his eyes seemed to be playing tricks or something. His vision blurred and Ron's voice seemed to be coming from very far away. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but in that split-second a searing jolt of pain shot through Harry's scar, turning his words into an agonized cry. It was too much - his consciousness fled and slid into darkness.

Harry found himself, to his great surprise, in the high street of Hogsmeade. It was early evening and there were people hurrying from one shop to the next, finishing last errands before returning home.

He walked forward with the odd sensation that it hadn't been his decision to move at all. As he walked, he noticed four others, three men and a woman, fall into step on either side of him. They approached a small group of witches who stood, surrounded by shopping bags, chatting animatedly.

To Harry's horror, he and his four companions barged directly into the group, grabbing the women by the shoulders and striking them with hands that had become, as Harry now saw, vicious-looking claws.

Harry's mind recoiled and he could feel his stomach churning as he saw himself and the others biting and scratching the now helpless women. He realized that, even as his body continued the attack, his mind was forcing him to scream.

NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

With a wrenching sensation, Harry seemed to float backwards and away from the bloody fray. As his vision blurred and darkened, he saw bloody, wrestling groups scattered all around the street and the air was thick with the sounds of screaming and the metallic stench of blood.

Slowly, Harry felt his body again, but he still didn't seem to have control over it. He was comfortable, however, so he cautiously opened his eyes. He was in his own bed in the room he was sharing with Ron. Mrs. Weasley was leaning over him, gently sponging his face with something that smelled wonderfully of ginger, clove and orange. Remus sat on the foot of the bed, watching anxiously. Mr. Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Annwyl were crowded in the doorway.

"There now, dear, it's alright. Don't try to move just yet." Mrs. Weasley laid a gently restraining hand on Harry's shoulder as he tried, vainly, to stir.

"What happened? How did I get here?"

"You collapsed," Remus replied. "It must have been your scar because you were grabbing your forehead and yelling. Harry, did you have any sort of vision?"

"I think so, but I can't really remember... My head hurts."

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke from the door, "maybe after some rest, it'll come back to you. If you feel up to it, we can give your Contemplation Sphere a try, as well." Remus nodded agreement and rose from the bed, patting Harry's leg encouragingly. Wishing him well, they all turned to go, leaving only Mrs. Weasley in the room with Harry. She poured a glass of water from the decanter on the bedside table and added six drops of a bright purple liquid from a small vial.

"Here, Harry. Drink this down now. It should help with that headache and let you relax." She helped Harry raise himself up enough to drink. "Now, just rest. We can talk about all this in the morning."

Mrs. Weasley kept Harry in bed much of the next morning and really, he felt too worn out to argue much. However, by noon, Harry was feeling well enough to be getting restless. Fortunately, his improvement satisfied Mrs. Weasley and Harry was allowed to join the others at lunch.

"Well, Harry," said Remus, "you're looking more yourself today. How's the memory?"

Harry shook his head in answer. "I can't remember any of the vision, but I know there was one."

"Dumbledore will be here after lunch," replied Remus. "When he gets here, I think we'll try Arthur's suggestion and use your Contemplation Sphere."

The headmaster arrived as the table was being cleared. He greeted everyone pleasantly and gave Annwyl a fond hug, but his worry was plain to see.

"Remus, Arthur, if you would be so good as to join me in the sitting room while Harry fetches his Contemplation Sphere, I believe we have much to discuss."

Harry retrieved the sphere and returned to the sitting room. The three men waiting for him were very grim.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, gently, "I realize this will be tiring for you and the memory of your vision is unlikely to be a pleasant one, but it is imperative that we know what you saw last night."

Harry nodded and sat on a low stool facing the three men. Supporting the silvery ball on his outstretched palms, he gathered his concentration and spoke.

"Memorarae last night's vision."

The silver contents swirled and cleared, showing the Hogsmeade street as Harry had seen it. Harry felt all his horror and dread returning as the memory progressed. By the time the memory had played out and the sphere had faded back to the swirl of silver, Harry was pale and shaking. The three men facing Harry had watched the entire memory without comment. Arthur Weasley was the first to speak.

"It looks as though Harry's vision of this attack was much like his vision of the attack on me last winter. I thought Voldemort was blocking Harry from this sort of thing."

Harry looked questioningly at Dumbledore. "Then, this really happened."

Dumbledore nodded somberly. "I take it you haven't seen this morning's edition of The Daily Prophet, Harry. To answer you, Arthur, I suspect that Voldemort's ability to block Harry diminishes when his power is heavily taxed. It seems he was manipulating at least fifteen soul-imposed victims last evening. Evidently, the power expenditure was too great for him to sufficiently block Harry. How does your scar feel today, Harry?"

"It's throbbing some, sir, but nothing like last night."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, my boy, I certainly appreciate your help. It has been... very enlightening. However, I can see that this has been a draining session for you. The Memorarae charm requires a great deal of the caster, I know. By the by, Arthur, I congratulate you and Molly and on the excellent charm casting. Harry's Contemplation Sphere is one of the most responsive I've ever seen. The clarity of image is extraordinary. Harry, I suggest you rejoin Mr. and Miss Weasley. They have, no doubt, completed their session with Annwyl by now and will be most impatient to see you."

Harry rose and, nodding politely to the others, left the room. He considered lingering in the hallway outside the sitting room door, but figured Dumbledore would have anticipated that. Sure enough, the Everyflavor bean he pulled from his pocket and flicked at the door sailed right off, making no contact with the panels. So, Dumbledore had, in fact, set an Imperturbable Charm. Harry set off, instead, to find Ron and Ginny.
They were still in the garden although the training session was over and Annwyl had left them. Ron lay in the shade of a tree, chewing a grass stem while Ginny was nearby with a textbook open before her. Ron sat up and beckoned eagerly when he saw Harry approaching.

"Harry, there you are! Are you alright, mate? You look a bit peaky, you know?"

"I'm okay," Harry answered, dropping down in the shade beside them. "Just sort of tired from that Memorarae charm and this headache."

Harry proceeded to tell them all that had happened in his meeting with Dumbledore. However, when he began to describe the attack, Ron held up a hand.

"You don't have to go through it again," he said with unexpected compassion. "It was like when you saw the attack on Dad, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded, relieved that he would not have to relive that particular memory, yet again. Ginny had looked up from her book at the beginning of Harry's story and was staring at him, thoughtfully.

"Ginny, what are you staring at?" Harry asked, irritably.

"You were pretty tired yesterday," was her only answer.

"Yeah, I was, so?"

"I think I'm going to get Tonks or Remus to get a letter to Hermione."

As she picked up her book and disappeared into the house, Ron and Harry just looked at one another and shrugged.

Fatigue and the lingering headache sent Harry to bed early that evening, but he next day he resumed training with Annwyl and the others. He was glad for the discipline which prevented him dwelling on his memories of the Hogsmeade attack.

After the initial report of the attack in the paper, there was nothing new to be said. As in the attack in Diagon Alley, no trace of the culprits had been found. In the absence of actual news, the paper was, again, resorting to wild theories regarding werewolf physiology. The latest suggestion was that werewolves were reacting to tides as well as the full moon.

A week passed with still no new information. Mr. Weasley made the trip to Diagon Alley to get their school books and supplies since it didn't seem wise for Harry to be away from the protective wards of Order Headquarters. Harry was disappointed as it had been a couple of years since his last visit and he had been looking forward to seeing Fred and George's new shop, but he knew there wasn't any point in arguing.

At last, it was the evening of August 31. Tomorrow, they would travel by portkey to a safe location outside London. From there, they would travel to King's Cross by muggle taxi. Remus had gone to the Granger's to be on hand to escort Hermione to platform 9 ¾ in the morning.

Harry and Ron were in their room packing when Harry opened the package of books Mr. Weasley had brought from Flourish and Blotts.

"Uh oh. Ron, I think your dad misunderstood," said Harry, holding up a Potions text. "I missed NEWT level Potions."

"Well, then he misunderstood for me, too," replied Ron, brandishing his own copy of the text. "Let's go ask."

They found Mr. Weasley in the sitting room and posed their question. "Ah, well," Mr. Weasley hemmed a bit. "You see there had to be a bit of a shuffle in the faculty. The headmaster had thought to bring Remus back to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but with anti-werewolf sentiment growing greater than ever, well, you can imagine. Still, there needed to be a reliable person in the position, someone powerful, preferably a member of the Order. So, the headmaster appointed Professor Snape."

"WHAT?" exclaimed both boys together.

"Dumbledore's slipped a cog, Dad!"

"Now, now," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, "I realize it takes some getting used to, but it solves some problems, really. Of course, there is a new Potions professor - Annwyl, in fact, and she accepts students with Es on their OWLs. So, there's your answer."

"But, Mr. Weasley, why wouldn't Annwyl teach Defense? I mean, she was an auror and all," Harry objected.

"Well, she'd been gone so long, you see. We can't really call her a member of the Order and it is such an important subject these days..."

"Dad, don't you believe her story?" cut in Ron, bluntly.

"I don't have and answer for you, Ron. I just don't know what to think."

Harry thought for a moment. "Is she qualified to teach Potions?" He couldn't help worrying about the idea of Annwyl, someone not entirely trustworthy, coming to Hogwarts.

"Oh, certainly. She's quite an able Potions brewer. Took top NEWTs, I understand. I'm sure she will do quite well."

"So long as it isn't Transfiguration," Annwyl's voice spoke from the door behind them. "Or Divination, or Arithmancy either, for that matter." She gave a slight smile. "Probably ought to steer clear of History, as well. Well, at least it will be easy for the Order to keep and eye on me, this way." She held up a hand to stifle Mr. Weasley's polite objections. "Nonsense, Arthur. Of course, you'll be watching me. I expected nothing less. I just came in to say goodbye. I'm taking a portkey to Hogwarts tonight so I can get settled. Ron, Harry, I guess you'll have to get used to Professor King." She smiled a grim sort of smile and left them.

Harry lay awake quite awhile that night. Tomorrow, he'd be back at Hogwarts, at last. However, Snape was finally getting his chance at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and the new Potions professor wasn't to be trusted any more than the previous one - probably less.

Well, thought Harry, no one ever said it would be a quiet year.

Many thanks to all you who have reviewed LotM. I do apologize for the delay in updating. Frankly, the problem is this. This story is actually already complete (though I can only send one chapter up at a time) and I am working on its sequel. Honestly, I lose track of how long it has been since I updated at this site. If you are getting impatient and would like to see the completed story, it is available at FictionAlley in the Schnoogle house. http://www.schnoogle.com/authorLinks/Sandy_Phoenix

As always, my thanks to my beta, Moriah S.

And a disclaimer... none of the world of Harry Potter is mine. It all belongs to JKR.


HARRY POTTER AND THE LABYRINTH OF THE MIND

Chapter 6 - Home to Hogwarts

Harry sat, watching the increasingly rugged scenery flash past the windows of the Hogwarts Express. Ron and Hermione were still in one of the forward carriages at a prefects' meeting, but Harry wasn't alone. Ginny and Dean Thomas sat in one corner of the compartment, Neville Longbottom across from them, talking over their summer holidays. Dean and his family had been to the East Indies and he had a stack of Muggle photos of his trip. Luna Lovegood had drifted in, as well, although Harry hadn't exactly noticed when that happened. She was just, sort of, there, the ever-present copy of The Quibbler in hand. So, while Harry had plenty of company, he was sitting, instead, by the window, mulling over the start of a new school year.

The day had begun predictably enough. At the Order Headquarters, Harry, Ron and Ginny had been up quite early, nibbling toast as they roamed the house, searching out last items and stowing them away in their trunks. As usual, there was a last, harried, sweep of the premises by Mrs. Weasley to gather odd socks and textbooks, followed by a nervous bustle to activate the portkey in time to get them all to the appointed spot before the Muggle taxis arrived. Mr. Weasley and Tonks had both taken the day off to accompany them to King's Cross and Tonks, in one of her more spectacular displays of lack of coordination, dropped on end of Ginny's trunk just as it was being loaded into the boot of a taxi. Spell books, potions ingredients, and assorted odd-looking (at least, to Muggle eyes) objects scattered across the ground, right at the feet of the startled taxi driver. A few remarks - not entirely convincing, Harry felt - to the effect that Ginny was studying drama and theater set design and the luggage was stowed at last.

Arriving on platform 9 ¾ had been quite different from previous years. The first thing Harry saw as he came through the barrier was the line of Ministry Aurors checking over students, their families, and their luggage before allowing anyone to approach the train.

"As if one of them might be smuggling You-Know-Who off to school among their textbooks," Tonks snorted. Ginny blanched just a bit.

Harry turned to Mr. Weasley with a questioning look.

"Just a precaution, Harry. Though really, I think it is more a show for the benefit of the parents. The Ministry has been receiving quite a few owls with various concerns about the students' safety."

The second thing that struck Harry, quite literally, was a blurred tangle of brown hair that leaped from the steps of the train car, wrapping him and Ron in a crushing hug. The blur resolved itself into a very excited Hermione Granger.

"Oh Ron! Harry! I'm so glad you're here at last. Remus and I have been waiting for ages. Hurry, get your things aboard. I've saved a compartment for us. The train's about to go and we've loads to catch up on."

Harry looked around and finally located Remus Lupin in the bustle of the train platform. He stood a bit apart from the others and Harry was appalled to see more than one unfriendly look bestowed upon the quiet-faced man. Despite the looks, Remus stood impassively, head up and shoulders back. The innate dignity somehow made his robes seem less shabby, the premature lines on his face less harsh. Still, Harry thought he could see the slight clench of the jaw as yet another angry, suspicious look was cast Remus' way.

With some last hugs, handshakes and admonitions to take care, they made it aboard the train as the final whistle blew. Stowing away their belongings in the compartment Hermione had saved, the two prefects hurried off to their meeting. Ginny, who seemed quite satisfied not to have been named a prefect, dropped into a seat with Dean and watched her departing brother with some sympathy.

"Ugh. Can you imagine being stuck in a stuffy old meeting already? We haven't even got to school yet."

Harry had noticed a change in the way his fellow students looked at him this year. As he had seen after The Daily Prophet published the Ministry's acknowledgment of Voldemort's return, many students were going out of their way, trying, a bit too hard perhaps, to show that they believed Harry and that he was, again, the Boy Who Lived - heroic in their eyes. Harry felt this was a sad omen for the coming year. The last thing he felt he wanted to face was an entirely new round of attention. People gawking at his scar was bad enough, but he really dreaded any questions of what had happened that night at the Department of Mysteries. So, he sat at the window of the compartment, brooding.
The snack trolley was making its rounds by the time Ron and Hermione returned to them. Over a stack of cauldron cakes, they filled Harry in on the school news.

"Security on the castle, this year, is as tight as I've ever seen it," said Hermione. "Even prefects will be taking one shift of patrol duty each week. Of course, the Head Boy and Girl will take more than that, despite their N.E.W.T. revision."

"I'm not sure I feel safer knowing the prefects are patrolling. I mean, Malfoy is a prefect," Ron stated, his lip curling in disgust.

"So, they've let him stay on, and as a prefect?" Ginny questioned indignantly from her corner.

"Ginny," answered Harry, "you know how Dumbledore is. Until he shows up with a Dark Mark just like Daddy's, Malfoy stays a prefect."

"I have a feeling we ought to keep our eyes on him, though," said Hermione. "He didn't have anything to say to anyone at the meeting. Not even an insult. He just sat and glared at everyone."

"Of course, he glared," commented Luna, lowering her paper. "Just think how many of the students here have read all about his father being in Azkaban. You realize, too, that he blames us - Harry especially."

Harry frowned at Luna. It had never been a secret that Malfoy and Harry didn't get on at all and it had been plain to Harry at the end of last term that Draco did, indeed, blame him for Lucius Malfoy's arrest. Still, Luna's calm, matter-of-fact tone in saying so grated on his nerves.

There was quite a lot that Harry, Ron and Ginny wanted to tell Hermione about their summer - Annwyl King, werewolves, and the Order, but with Luna, Neville and Dean there with them, stories would have to wait. So, while the others chatted about their holidays, Harry settled back in his seat and dozed off.


Harry was walking along a rather busy street. While nothing looked familiar to him, he knew, somehow, that this was an area of muggle London. It was late afternoon and people were leaving the shops and their jobs. As in Hogsmeade, Harry had several companions. They ignored the muggle passersby initially, but once they reached an open-air market, Harry and his companions paused. Looking around, they spotted an unusual figure at a nearby fruit stand.

Harry tried to cry out a warning, for the figure was none other than Mundungus Fletcher. Just as Harry opened his mouth, a stab of pain struck his scar causing him to yell in shock and surprise. Vaguely, he saw Mundungus turn, wand drawn. Another figure was running to join him and Harry could almost swear it was Tonks. The pain was intense now and Harry sank to his knees as he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him roughly...

"...Harry, come on, mate! Harry, please..."

"...Oh, Harry, please wake up! Oh please..."

"Come on, Ron, help me get him up on the seat."

Harry felt hands gripping him under the arms and hefting him from the floor to the seat. Forcing his eyes open against the dull throb in his head, he saw the blurry faces of Ron and Ginny leaning over him. Another blur which must have been Hermione reached forward, gently setting his glasses on his face. Harry blinked, bewildered, as the compartment came into focus.

"Harry, was it another dream? You fell off the seat, screaming and holding your head. What was..." Hermione's sentence was cut off when the train lurched to an abrupt halt.
Ron, Ginny and Hermione, standing in front of Harry, were thrown backward into the facing seats. Luna, Dean and Neville were tossed into a tangled heap on the floor. Groaning, all seven of them came to their feet.

"Ron," said Hermione anxiously, "maybe we'd better go see what happened." She turned and headed toward the door.

Ginny had her forehead pressed against the window, looking along the length of the train.
"Hey! The train is being attacked! There are Death Eaters out there!" Ginny shrieked, whirling away from the window.

"Come on!" yelled Harry, leaping for the door. "Grab as many of the D.A. Members as you can find."

They burst into from the compartment and into bedlam. Students were screaming and trying to run, but the narrow corridor was really too packed for anyone to move very far. Signaling to Ron for a boost, Harry swung up on an outcropping of molding around a compartment window. It was a precarious hold, but it put him head and shoulders about the panicked crowd.

"Sonorus," he whispered, wand directed at his throat. Then, raising his voice, Harry addressed the students. "Everyone, please! I need all D.A. Members in the corridor now. All others, please go back into the compartments and see that the doors and windows are locked."

To Harry's surprise and relief, everyone obeyed without comment. He jumped down from his perch and, using his wand at his throat again, whispered, "Quietus." Looking at the ten D.A. Members now gathered around him, he did some quick planning.

"Ginny, you and Ron come with me," Harry said. "We're going forward to secure as much of the train as possible. Hermione, take Dean and Luna and head toward the rear. Collect as many D.A. members as you can find as you go. Make sure doors and windows are locked and keep them that way. Hex anyone who doesn't look right to you and, for goodness sake, remember to use shield charms. The rest of you, stay here and make sure everything is well locked. In two minutes, half of you go after Hermione, Luna and Dean and the others follow after us. Right, let's move then."

Wands drawn, Harry, Ron and Ginny ran forward through the carriage. Pausing at the door to the next carriage, Harry peered cautiously through the glass. There was chaos in the corridor, but he could see Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbot trying to lock doors and windows and send the more hysterical students back to their compartments. Waving and tapping on the glass caught Hannah's attention and she unlocked the door, letting them in.

"Am I glad to see you three," she gasped as she relocked the door. "There are Death Eaters in the next car! We couldn't tell how many. Michael Corner, Susan Bones, and Cho Chang went forward as soon as the train stopped, but we haven't seen them since."
Harry glanced around to the two pale, freckled faces staring back at him. He swallowed with difficulty and turned back to Hannah.

"Right, then. You four stay here and keep everything locked. You should have some help in a moment. I'll go see what I can find farther forward."

"WHAT? Harry, what are you saying?"

"Have you gone completely round the twist?"

"Absolutely not! Don't be a prat!"

All three were arguing against Harry when Ernie approached. Quickly sizing things up, he put in his two knuts' worth.

"We're wasting time. Harry, we're not letting you go alone, so everyone just stop yelling and let's get moving."

Frowning, but not wanting to spend any more time in useless wrangling, Harry led the way to the door of the next carriage. Ducking low to avoid being seen, Harry and Ginny pressed their ears to the door, trying to hear what was going on inside. They weren't able to hear much aside from some muffled shouts and thumps. Ron risked a peek through the glass and gave a low whistle.

"Fighting," he said. "At least five Death Eaters. Can't be sure. How do you want to go in?"

"Well, it isn't as though we can take them much by surprise. The know how many of us are on the train," answered Ginny. "I say we just barge in and start hexing."

The others merely nodded. With all wands at the ready, Harry reached out and flung the door wide. Ducking a few wild jets of light, all five of them charged forward. Harry could see that his schoolmates had been defending themselves with all they had, but despite being outnumbered, the Death Eaters' superior experience was allowing them to gain an advantage. While most of the younger students had backed into compartments as directed by upper years, the corridor and several open doorways were blocked by the bodies of unconscious students. At least, Harry hoped they were only unconscious...

Ginny and Hannah raced forward, casting hexes and stunning spells as fast as they could gasp out the words. Harry swept along just behind, firing curses over their shoulders and shouting for both girls to get behind him. Ron and Ernie, each being considerable taller, brought up the rear, easily flinging spells over the others' heads.

From the intensity of the fighting, Harry judged that the attackers had boarded the train at this carriage, planning to divide and go in opposite directions along the train. Indeed, they had pretty effectively cut a fair number of the passengers from reaching the other. What they hadn't reckoned on was the skill of some of the D. A. members. Harry allowed himself a fleeting moment of pride as he saw Hannah and Ginny, working together, bring down a Death Eater with a pair of particularly nasty hexes.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw another Death Eater make a run for the next car forward, Cho Chang right behind him. It suddenly occurred to Harry that he had seen no sign of the adults he knew to be in the first car of the train. There must have been at least two simultaneous attacks and one must have been on that first carriage. Since there were only two carriages forward from where they were now fighting, there must be a sizable number of Death Eaters just ahead. Harry ran after Cho, hindered by bodies and more fighting, shouting a warning. Ginny and Michael Corner must have had the same thought at the same moment, for as Harry finally made it to the door and flung himself into the next car, they were at his heels.

Entering the corridor was like plunging into an ice bath. With a sickening flop in his stomach and an all too familiar buzzing in his ears, Harry realized they'd brought a dementor. Seeing Ginny and Michael dropping back, he called out to them. "Patronus! Summon a Patronus!"

Desperately trying to ignore the voices and images in his head - his mother's voice, Voldemort's horrible cackle, the image of Cedric's blank, lifeless eyes, the sight of Sirius falling back through the arch - Harry staggered forward, his sight blurring and darkening. His vision cleared for a split second and he nearly fainted at what he saw. Before him stood a tall, terrifying dementor, its hood pushed slightly back, its horrible, scaly hands gripping the shoulder and neck of a limp figure it raised to its face.

Cho Chang.

Harry heard the rattling intake of breath as he leveled his wand, bellowing, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!!"

As his stag Patronus leaped toward Cho, another silver Patronus sped from the opposite end of the corridor. It was a great hawk-like beast with a dragon tail, a powerful hawk body and wings, and a dragon head. Both silver beasts charged the dementor which dropped its prey and disappeared.

Then, in a flurry of popping sounds, the car was full of Ministry Aurors and medical personnel. Wild flashes of spells and more popping and suddenly, it was quite still. Three Death Eaters lay stunned on the floor. The others appeared to have escaped. Harry hardly knew how, but he managed to reach Cho where she lay in the center of the car. She was lying, looking straight up, her eyes vacant and her jaw slack. Michael, who was still at Harry's side, dropped to his knees beside her.

"Cho?... Please look at me... Cho?"

On Harry's other side, Ginny turned away, hands to her face and shaking with choking sobs. From the other direction, Annwyl King stepped forward. Harry's mouth dropped.
"Hhh... how... where...?"

"I sensed trouble," Annwyl said, simply.

"Was that your Patronus then?" Harry asked.

She nodded in answer. Kneeling down beside Michael, she placed a gentle arm on his shoulders, drawing him away from Cho. "I'm sorry," she whispered. A ministry medi-witch approached at that moment. Looking down at Cho, her eyes grew wide.

"Oh Merlin... has she... has she been..."

"Kissed," Annwyl said, her voice flat. "Yes, she has. And, I'm afraid this young man," she gestured at Michael who was staring dazedly at Cho, "is slipping into shock."

"Oh... I've never..." The medi-witch shook herself and regained some composure. "I'll tend to them both. Perhaps you had best see these other two away from here. Please be sure they both eat some of this." She handed Annwyl a slab of chocolate and turned to Michael.

Annwyl rose and, taking Harry and Ginny each by the arm, led them back along the train. They passed medical people reviving students, healing numerous minor injuries and feeding everyone chocolate.

When they reached their own compartment, Ginny turned in automatically and slumped into a seat. Harry walked straight to the window and stared out, unseeing, his mind whirling.

And another one gone...

Wordlessly, Annwyl broke apart the chocolate and handed some to each of them. Ginny ate, quite unconscious of her actions, while Harry just stood, chocolate melting in his hand, staring out the window.

Sounds behind him told him the others were returning. Ron was limping a bit from a newly mended sprain and Hermione sported a good-sized plaster on her left shoulder which was, evidently, mending a cut. The others, though exhausted and frightened, seemed unharmed.

Ron exclaimed at seeing Annwyl and introduced her to Hermione, Dean, Luna and Neville. He then asked the question Harry had begun before. "Annw... er, Professor, how did you get here? I thought you were at the castle."

"I was," she replied, "but I got a bad feeling. So, I grabbed my broom and came along to find the train."

Why didn't you just Apparate?" asked Neville.

"I didn't know exactly where you were. The train was moving after all. Well, you can't Apparate without a precise location, so I followed the tracks until I reached the train."
While speaking, Annwyl rose and looked down the corridor in each direction. "It looks as though the Ministry will soon have you underway again and with some Aurors to accompany you. Since they will be here, I shall certainly not be needed. In light of this, I believe it would be best for me to report to the headmaster. You should be reaching the school in under two hours. Until then..." With a pop, Annwyl Disapparated.

"Ron," Luna spoke, turning her overlarge eyes on him, "why did you call her Professor? Is she the new Defense teacher? How do you know her?"

"Er," Ron searched for a plausible story and Ginny spoke up, saving him.

"We don't know if she's the Defense professor, actually. Ron, Harry and I met her over the summer. She's someone my dad knows. We were just told to call her Professor."

"What did she mean when she said she had a bad feeling?" questioned Hermione thoughtfully. "She must have left Hogwarts before the attack even began. How do you suppose she really knew about it?"

Just then, two Aurors entered and requested statements from them all. Harry learned the others had experiences similar to his own up until the encounter with the dementor. As he and Ginny told their version of events, the others gasped, not having already heard about Cho. Hermione's eyes were blurred by tears and Ginny's voice cracked as she spoke. Dean put a comforting arm around her shoulders and, for once, Ron was too distracted to notice.

Harry was surprised and rather appalled at how little he seemed to be feeling. There was no pain, no horror, no rage - only a flat, empty sensation. His own reason told him it was the effect of shock, but he was not soothed by the notion. He felt quite vacant.
There was very little journey left by this time, and schools robes were donned in almost total silence. Only after they were seated again did Hermione speak.

"Harry, what form did Professor King's Patronus take?"

Harry described the strange dragon-hawk and she frowned in thought.
"Oh, that's an Aresean Hawk," supplied Luna, conversationally. "They are quite rare and powerful, but not very nice, actually."

"They are rare," said Hermione impatiently, "because they are completely mythical, even in the magical world. The Aresean Hawk or Dragon Hawk was the special pet of Ares, the Greek god of war. Ares was said to have sent it into battle before the Greek armies as sort of advance guard. Instead of fire, it breathed a pestilence and its tail was tipped with poisonous barbs."

"I don't remember ever hearing that before," remarked Dean.

"That's because it is a load of skrewt droppings even by mythological standards," Hermione replied. "I can't imagine why her Patronus would take that form."

"Wait," said Harry, "didn't the Romans give Ares another name?"

"Yes, they called him Mars."

* * *

It was a particularly subdued group that wended its way up to the castle an hour later. Hagrid, obviously shaken by the news of the attack, had done his best to be very gentle with the bedraggled, quaking first years. Unfortunately, even a kindly, gentle Hagrid could be quite alarming and Harry saw several weeping openly as they climbed into the boats for their trip across the lake.

Harry couldn't remember the Great Hall so quiet at a Sorting Feast. True, people were talking, but it was not the laughing chatter on would expect to hear. Rather, it was an anxious hum of murmurs and whispers. As he took his seat at the Gryffindor table next to Ron and Hermione, Harry noticed Michael Corner was not in the Hall. Several others were missing as well, and he figured they must be in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey.

The faculty was whispering, as well. Professors Sinistra and Vector were in close conversation while Madame Hooch and Professor Sprout whispered alternately with Professor Flitwick. Professor Snape, Harry noticed, spoke to no one, but glared around the Hall, his angular face drawn into a frown. Annwyl King sat at one end of the table, somewhat apart, not speaking, her face unreadable. Dumbledore was silent also, watching the students file into the Hall.

At last, Hagrid appeared at his place at the table and Professor McGonagall rose to bring in the first year class. She reentered carrying a stool and the battered Sorting Hat, a line of still very frightened-looking students trailing behind. Once the hat had been placed on the stool there was a brief but weighty silence. Then a rip opened along its brim and the hat began its song.

Far too many years ago
For me to truly count,
Two witches and two wizards
A mighty quest did mount.
They sought to build a magic school,
A haven for those gifts
Which, when trained with skill and care and heart
Were sure our world would lift.
Badger, eagle, lion, snake,
Their value each did show
For traits of spirit, soul and skill
By which, their students, know.
The loyal and kind would labor
For sweet Hufflepuff,
But Slytherin, he did require
His be of sterner stuff.
To ambition and cunning, he did incline
Though others sought them not.
Fair Ravenclaw, the intellect
Her attention always caught.
Bold Gryffindor, he plunged right in,
Took to himself to teach
Those ones who did not fear to tread,
Who leapt into the breach.
And though the Founders, gone, may be,
Their passions do not fade
And I am here to sort you
For the houses must be made.
But, yet again, I warn you
As I have done before.
Destruction looms if we divide
And friendships grow no more.
So, though I sort you into groups
And set these groups apart,
I bid you all to cling together -
One Hogwarts' beating heart.
For danger lurks and with it choices,
Choices hard to make.
Though the easy way may draw you,
Our lifeblood, it will take.
In mind be strong, in heart be true
And darkness, follow not.
For if you choose despair and pain
Then, ruin be our lot.
And now, I'll tell you where you'll be
Just where you ought to dwell.
But, pledge to let your heart be guided
By Life's greatest binding spell.

Harry didn't even hear the first years being sorted. He was vaguely aware that the sorting was not the raucous celebration it generally was. Instead, he was caught in a burning whirl of anger at the Sorting Hat's words.

Choices, he thought bitterly, what choice was Cho, or any other person on that train, given? And Sirius - coming out of hiding to protect his godson wasn't the easy way, yet ruin was certainly the result. So, what hope have any of us got?

Harry was pulled from his painful musings when he felt a hand on his arm. Turning, Harry met Hermione's eyes fixed on him with concern. Somehow, she must have guessed what he'd been thinking.

"Harry, I... oh, Harry...," she whispered, tears swimming in her eyes.

He didn't answer, but covered her hand with his and, with a gentle squeeze, removed it from his arm. He then looked away toward Dumbledore who had risen to speak. Seeing the old headmaster, Harry remembered the suffering on the lined face the night of Annwyl's return. The pain was just as plain to see now, but, perhaps due to his own shock and anguish from the horrors of the day, Harry was unable to feel anything for his professor. He realized it with a dull sort of dread.

"I will dispense with the welcoming this evening," said Dumbledore sadly, "and, instead, attempt to express my heartfelt gratitude to have you, at last, safe within these walls and my sincere sorrow and sympathy for the fear and pain you have experienced. For tonight, I think we will all be the better for some food and some sleep. The rest may keep until tomorrow."

With that, the tables filled with a magnificent repast to which no one was actually able to do justice. The dinner was as brief as it was quiet. In a very short time, the Hall emptied and the prefects led their houses off to their common rooms.

Harry was halfway to Gryffindor tower when he remembered the dream he'd had on the train. The attack had driven it from his thoughts almost completely. He separated himself from some other students and took a shortcut which would lead him toward Dumbledore's office. Although it was very much in the past already, Harry supposed the headmaster would want to know. He was in the corridor outside the Defense classroom when he heard the voice of one he most definitely did not want to encounter. Professor Snape was just around the corner and, though no words were discernible, it seemed he wasn't alone, nor was he happy. Harry was just about to backtrack to another, albeit, less direct route, to see Dumbledore when he caught the other voice. The voice of Annwyl King caused Harry
to tiptoe cautiously forward, listening intently.

"I am not answerable to you, Professor," Annwyl said coldly.

"You are mistaken, Professor King. As a member of the Order - in good standing, might I add - it is my inarguable duty to look into any suspicious happenings related to the attack on the Hogwarts Express. Inasmuch as your behavior was quite suspicious, you are, indeed, subject to my questioning. Now, tell me how you happened to reach the train before even the Ministry was aware of any trouble."

"Professor Snape, I am sure you have already been made aware of my ability to sense highly emotionally charged events. When I feel such a thing, I tend to act upon it promptly."

"Have you a similar passel of hogwash to explain the highly unusual Patronus you conjured?" Snape growled.

"Really, Professor, as the instructor in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you are aware that one is not able to choose the form of one's Patronus. It comes from within. I trust you are capable of plotting a star chart for the date of my birth - which information I am equally certain you might easily obtain. With Mars playing such a distinct role in my chart, my corporeal Patronus cannot really surprise you. Now, if you will excuse me..." Harry heard Annwyl's steps disappearing down the corridor.

Garbled, angry mutterings told Harry that Snape was still just around the corner, so he backed away as quietly as possible, anxious to avoid an encounter with an angry Snape. Harry had nearly reached the junction of another corridor which would lead him safely away when the huge sound of someone blowing a very rude raspberry echoed weirdly off the stone walls. Peeves hovered just above him, grinning wickedly. Not waiting to see if the noise would draw Snape, Harry ran pell-mell down the adjoining corridor.

Several turns and shortcuts later, Harry felt he'd come far enough for safety. However, any further efforts to reach Dumbledore seemed foolhardy. Harry stood thinking hard. He could find Professor McGonagall. Surely, no one would question it if he was looking to speak to his head of house. He could tell her and she could take him to Dumbledore.
Reaching her office a few moments later, Harry raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles contacted the heavy panels, the door swung wide.

"It is late for you to be roaming the school, Potter," said Professor McGonagall from her seat before her desk. "Well, come in. I assume you aren't walking for your health."
Harry stood before her desk and poured out his story.

"So, I thought I'd better try to see the Headmaster, Professor," he finished. "Since I didn't want to be out-of-bounds, I thought maybe you could take me to his office."

"That will not be possible tonight," she answered. "Professor Dumbledore has been called away on business. He left word that he wished to see you immediately after breakfast tomorrow."

Disappointed, Harry nodded. "May I go up to Gryffindor tower, then?"

"Yes, of course. Do not be alarmed, Potter. I shall certainly pass along what you have told me."

Upon reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry found an anxious Ron waiting. "Harry! Where in bloody hell have you been? Hermione is about ready to organize a search party." He turned to the portrait, a firm grip on Harry's sleeve. "Dog star," he declared and the portrait swung wide. Harry winced.

"That's the password?"

"Yeah... oh! Bugger. Harry, do you want me to ask the Fat Lady to change it?"

Harry shook his head and climbed through to the common room. Once inside, he was nearly knocked flat by Hermione, demanding, wildly, where he had been. As quickly as he could, he told what had happened.

"I didn't want to chance another run-in with Peeves, so I talked to McGonagall and then came back here," Harry finished. "I'll see Dumbledore tomorrow. It can't really matter now since whatever happened must be long over."

Professor Snape and Professor King certainly aren't getting along," remarked Hermione. "Dumbledore didn't even announce she'd be teaching Defense, but I guess Snape already knows. No wonder he's so foul to her."

"Actually," said Harry, looking around to see if they could be overheard, "she isn't the Defense professor. Snape is. Professor King will be taking Potions."

"We didn't think Dumbledore would want us telling anyone before he announced it. With everyone else on the train with us, we never had a chance to tell you," Ron said apologetically.

"Look, Hermione," said Harry, noting the hurt look on her face, "I promise we'll tell you everything tomorrow, but it is just too late tonight." He stifled a large yawn.
All three trudged up the stairs to the dormitories. Too exhausted to worry about whether or not he'd dream, Harry flopped into his four-poster and fell promptly to sleep.

* * *

Harry was disappointed again, however, at breakfast the next morning. Professor McGonagall handed him a message saying that his meeting with the Headmaster was delayed until further notice to allow more time for fact gathering (whatever that meant). Seeing his downcast expression, Professor McGonagall gave him an encouraging nod before leaving.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore made the announcement about the new Defense and Potions professors. Throughout the Hall, there were a few gasps and quite a bit of whispering. Dumbledore made some patting motions in the air and the sound subsided.
"I invite you all to join me in welcoming Professor King and trust you will make her sojourn with us a pleasant one," he said. This was met by scattered polite applause.
"There are a few other matters," Dumbledore continued and went on to make his usual remarks regarding the Forbidden Forest ("Still, quite forbidden!"), no magic in the corridors, and Filch's list of 953 prohibited objects and substances. Then, his light tone changed.

"I understand a number of you have had questions about yesterday's events and the welfare of your injured classmates. First, let me assure you that Madame Pomfrey is so well satisfied with their progress that she anticipates they will rejoin us by lunchtime. There are, to my great sorrow, two exceptions. Mr. Corner, having bravely put himself forward to defend his classmates, is still recovering from shock. We hope to see him among us again soon. Miss Chang, I regret, will not return to us. Having suffered a dementor attack, she has been placed in permanent residence at St. Mungo's. It should be noted that her bravery and skill in conjuring a Patronus several times before she was attacked, was the direct saving of nine of her fellow students. Please rise and join me in honoring Cho Chang."

Harry's mind reeled as the whole school rose and rumbled in one voice, "Cho Chang." His thoughts flipped back to the leaving feast after the Triwizard Tournament when they rose to remember Cedric Diggory. His throat constricted painfully.

How many more? How many innocent lives must be taken or shattered?

Harry heard nothing after that and hardly even noticed as Professor McGonagall handed out their schedules. It wasn't until he was on his way to Transfiguration with Ron and Hermione that he began to take note of their excited chatter. "What in the world are you two on about?" Harry asked.

"Harry, didn't you hear any of Dumbledore's speech?" exclaimed Ron. "He said that since the success of the D.A. was so evident during yesterday's attack on the train, the whole school should have the chance for that kind of training. So, he is reinstating a defense club. And, get this - Snape and Professor King will run it together. Can you believe it?"
"Well, they didn't seem to be too happy to be working together," commented Hermione. "I guess we'll see tomorrow night at the first meeting."

If Harry thought his O.W.L. Preparations had been difficult, it wasn't long before he realized that had been a cakewalk compared to N.E.W.T. preparation. The first day of classes was Transfiguration and Herbology in the morning with double Charms in the afternoon. By dinnertime, Harry and the other sixth year Gryffindors were seated at their house table, moaning over the homework the professors had liberally assigned that day.
"I hope this Professor King will teach us how to brew an energizing potion," Parvati Patil whined.

"Well, if she does, brew some for me, won't you?" replied Seamus. "I can't believe I have Binns' N.E.W.T. level history to sit through. I'd sleep, but he actually pays attention to his N.E.W.T. classes."

Despite all the homework waiting for them, Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to find a quiet corner of the library after dinner to bring Hermione up to speed on all that had been happening. Harry even brought his Contemplation Sphere so Hermione could see the Order meeting. The sphere impressed her almost as much as all they had to tell her.

"Wow," she breathed, examining the silver ball carefully, "this is really impressive. The charms to make one of these are quite difficult. Ron, your parents are wonderful."

Harry toppled into bed that night, once again, too tired to spare a thought for dreams. He did wonder what facts Dumbledore might be gathering, but before he could properly think it over, he was asleep.

* * *

Harry's first class the next morning was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Although he knew this was one area in which he excelled, Harry dreaded dealing with Snape. He was so wrapped up in his concern over the class, he didn't even notice Professor McGonagall at the front of the room until he was seated.

"As you have all observed," she began, "Professor Snape is not with us today. He has, however, left a reading and essay assignment for you. Several of you are able to conjure a Patronus, but none of you have studied the theory behind the spell. You are to study what your text says concerning this and write a two foot parchment on how one may strengthen the Patronus and even direct it. It will be due in one week. You may begin."

Although Harry tried to concentrate on his work, his mind kept wandering back to Snape. He had seemed fit enough at dinner last evening, so illness seemed unlikely. Had Voldemort summoned him? Had Dumbledore sent him to gather information about the attack on the students? For a moment, Harry considered asking Professor McGonagall after class. However, one good look at her furrowed brow made him think better of it and seemed to confirm the suspicion that Snape was on Order business.

That afternoon was the first Potions class for the sixth year N.E.W.T. students. As whenever there had been a new teacher, the room hummed in anticipation. Harry had to admit that Annwyl was an imposing figure, despite her small stature. Like Snape, she favored black robes and instead of entering her classroom in the usual way, she waited until all were seated and just sort of detached from some dark shadows in one corner and glided to the rostrum. It was a bit unnerving to think she had been there all the while.

Aside from her unorthodox entrance, Annwyl was a straightforward, no nonsense professor. With very little fuss, she soon had them brewing a strengthening solution. It was review work, but she wanted to see their technique. Throughout class, she glided up and down between desks, observing them carefully. As they were clearing up to go, she stepped to the rostrum to address them.

"You should all remember that tonight will be the first meeting of the new defense club. All are encouraged to attend and promptness is required. You have a question, Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry realized with a start that they had been in class a full ninety minutes and there had been no snide remarks from Draco Malfoy. Such a thing had never happened before and instead of being a pleasant surprise, Harry found it made him wonder what the slimy ferret was up to.

"Well, Professor," came the drawling voice from the back of the room, "surely you don't plan on having a defense club meeting without the Defense professor. I understand he is away today."

"While it would be desirable for our Defense professor to join us," Annwyl answered coolly, "it is not desirable to delay the training. We shall meet this evening. Class dismissed."

After Annwyl's warning in class, no one dared be late and by 7:25 that evening, it looked as if most of the school had gathered in the Great Hall. As when Lockhart had offered a dueling club, the long house tables had been moved against the walls creating a large open space in the center. In this space, everyone stood, griping wands and looking about expectantly.

When Annwyl arrived a moment later, Harry, Ginny and Ron were the only ones not surprised by her appearance. She was in her white fencing gear and carried a bag which clanked as if containing some muggle weapons. Setting down her bag, she addressed the group.

"In Defense, it is vitally important that one's mind be as much under one's control as one's body. Further, both must work smoothly together for where one may be weak, the other may compensate. To achieve this end, we shall begin with a muggle sport known as fencing. It is uniquely suited to the sort of mental focus I desire to see in each of you."
With that, she moved around the Hall, transfiguring clothing, conjuring weapons and showing everyone the basic footwork. Before long, they were all at work, striking their floating targets. Harry noticed that, despite the sneer on Malfoy's face as Annwyl worked with him and several other Slytherins, Malfoy was as intent on the footwork as any of them. Hermione was thrilled and Ginny worked between her and Dean, giving them all the pointers Annwyl had given them over the summer.

They had been working for an hour and a half and Annwyl was transfiguring everyone's clothes back to school robes when Severus Snape entered the room. His sallow face was contorted in a disgusted sneer.

"Professor King, what is the meaning of this? I understood from the Headmaster that you were conducting a defense club meeting. Instead, I find you wasting time with your foolish muggle foot shuffling and hopping about with these ridiculous oversize pins." He eyed a foil with distaste.

"Professor Snape," Annwyl replied with icy calm, "that was hardly your diplomatic best. I shall be happy to discuss this with you when our meeting is adjourned." Turning to the students, she said, "I expect that you will continue our footwork drills throughout the week. Special equipment is not required for this. You are dismissed."

The students filed from the Hall, but when Harry, Ron and Hermione reached the corridor, Harry held the other two back. Waiting until Ginny and Dean had turned the corner, Harry reached into his book bag and drew out his invisibility cloak. "I was thinking about sneaking down to see Hagrid. I think this will still cover all three of us if Ron hunches down. Let's see what Snape and Professor King are doing."

Under the cloak, they crept back through the door and huddled against the wall. Annwyl was back in her teaching robes, her weapons (favorites having belonged to her father and kept in storage for some years, she had explained earlier) packed in her bag. She stood facing Snape, her eyes snapping sparks.

"Snape, I'll not be bullied before the students. If you expect to intimidate me, you'll find you are dealing with more than you bargained for."

"Oh, I do beg your pardon," Snape hissed. "Perhaps, you'd prefer to settle this your own way." He flicked his wand and his swirling black robes were replaced by trim-fitting black trousers and a white linen shirt. "Rapiers, King?" A shining weapon appeared in his hand.

Annwyl did not answer but transfigured her robes to pants and a shirt not unlike Snape's. Raising her hand and wand, she spoke. "Accio, rapier." A weapon flew out of her bag and zoomed to her outstretched hand, glittering murderously. "Your terms, Snape?"

"First blood."

"Very well," she said, saluting him with her blade. "En garde." He returned her salute and readied himself. With a nod, they began.

Harry, Ron and Hermione drew a collective gasp as they watched the two professors. They did not limit themselves to the linear, back and forth footwork the students had been learning. Now, they circled and moved about, looking for all the world like dancers. Harry was astonished to see how comfortable Snape appeared in such a bout. The blades flashed in the torchlight, the sound of their footsteps punctuated by the clash and whispers of steel on steel. Several times there were close calls which were parried in a nick of time. Suddenly, there was a scrape of blades and Snape's rapier lay on the floor at Annwyl's feet. Faster than Harry's eye could track, she had disarmed him. Now, she stood, the point of her blade directed at Snape's throat.

"First blood, was it not?" she asked in a silken snarl. Her blade flicked up and before he could react, Snape's left cheek was marked with a thin, red line. A second later, a drop of blood ran down, glaring against the sallow skin.

Without another word, Annwyl retrieved her bag, swept past where the three were huddled under the invisibility cloak, and out of the Hall. Snape stared after her, unmoving, a thin trail of blood coursing down his cheek.