It was the middle of the summer following Harry’s Fifth Year at Hogwarts. Having survived the horror of the night at the Department of Mysteries, Harry had arrived back to the relatively normal, albeit lonely existence of living with the Dursleys. While normally Harry would have been counting down the days until his return to Hogwarts by now, this summer was different. Harry actually welcomed the break from the wizarding world. He needed time to recover emotionally from what had happened.


For the first time ever Harry was beginning to properly appreciate the ancient magic that protected him as long as he resided with the Dursleys. He felt weak and susceptible to attack. In his current emotional state it was a relief to know that here he could find built in protection that did not require the use of his wand or his constant vigilance for that matter.


Harry, of course was still vigilant. Well, after everything that happened it was hard not to be. But at least he could rest relatively easy knowing that more than his eyes were keeping an eye on things. Despite the lack on contact with anyone from the magical world, Harry sensed their presence on Privet Drive and was comforted by it.


It was a rough summer on the teenager, once again having to cope with coming to terms with a major loss in his life. He found that the weeks spent at the Dursleys had not left him feel all that much stronger, emotionally at any rate. Harry had not heard from any members of the Order of the Phoenix as to when he would be removed from Privet Drive. He assumed that they would come for him when it was safe, and until then decided to spend his time enjoying the sheltered security of living with the muggles.

It wasn’t as if the Dursleys were any better behaved than previously. They were as obnoxious and rude as always. But this seemed to have less effect on Harry this year than previously. More often than not he did not rise to his cousin’s jibes, he didn’t feel irritated by Uncle Dursley referring to his magical abilities as an ‘oddness’. He didn’t even seem to truly notice Aunt Petunia’s obvious dislike whenever he ventured into the kitchen to eat with them.

Only once had Harry’s temper come to the fore while he had been staying with them. Uncle Dursley had been complaining as always about how scruffy he looked, how he was only half the boy that Dudley was (Harry felt a third would have been closer to the mark). Annoyed at Harry’s lack of response, he had loudly enquired as to why his Godfather had not requested that he stay with him for the summer, instead of landing him on their doorstep once again.


Harry had felt his temper rising when Uncle Dursley had inferred that perhaps even his Godfather could not bear his presence for two months every summer. Before he knew what was happening, the lights in the living room began to blink dangerously. The Dursleys had hopped up looking frightened and stared at Harry who was glaring back at them unblinkingly.

“You, you know what happened last time you did magic outside of school boy,� Uncle Dursley stuttered. Harry came to his senses just in time. Taking many deep breaths he calmed his anger and as he did so, the swaying, blinking ceiling lights began to steady and glow more normally. He had turned and walked back upstairs to his bedroom, leaving the Dursleys to stare at each other in fear.

Since then Harry had been careful never to let his anger get away from him. He knew that the Order of the Phoenix had enough to worry about without him being hauled up for violating the Underage use of Magic laws once again.

Two weeks before the end of August, Harry received an Owl. It read as follows:

I hope you are well H.
Please look after packing up your trunk and schoolbooks. Expect us tonight at 11 pm. Yours, Wolfsbane

Harry stared at the note for a moment, instantly recognising that it was Remus that was using the pen name of Wolfsbane. The note didn’t say where he would be staying for the next two weeks. Instead of bring filled with excitement and happiness at the thought of meeting his friends and returning to the magical world, Harry’s thoughts were clouded with the depressing image of Grimmauld Place. He didn’t see how they would take him anywhere else.

Above all, Harry didn’t want to return there. It was bad enough that the house itself was depressing, dark and gloomy, but it was more the fact that he knew his godfather had spent the end of his life living there, deeply unhappy and unable to do much about it. Harry hated to think of Sirius there.

Sirius had been through enough in Azkaban, for him to have spent his last few months in the gloom and oppression of Grimmauld Place upset Harry greatly. He did have some happy memories of Sirius there, like the Christmas when he, Hermione and the Weasleys had stayed there. But for every happy memory, Harry’s mind was assaulted with ten opposing ones.

Harry dragged himself upstairs and set about repacking his trunk. He had not had much interest in reading this summer so most of his schoolbooks remained untouched at the bottom of the trunk. When finished he sat on his bed until 10.55 pm and then dragged his case downstairs to the hallway.

He found Mr and Mrs Dursley in the sitting room and told them in a monotone voice that he would be leaving that night. He stopped their instant questions as to how he would be travelling and who would be coming to meet them, by telling them quickly that people would be arriving in five minutes and it would be best if they didn’t hear the Dursleys being in any way rude to him.

This quietened them down considerably. Moments later, Harry heard a distinctive popping sound in the backyard, following by an urgent tap on the back door. Drawing his wand out of his pocket, Harry opened the door cautiously. “Hello Harry, ready to go?� said a voice from the darkness. Harry felt relief creep over him when he heard Lupin’s voice. He quickly grabbed his trunk from the hall, dragged it into the backyard, and giving a final wave to the Dursleys, stepped outside the backdoor to rejoin his friends in the magical world.

The journey back to Grimmauld Place by broomstick was just as cold and uncomfortable as the last time that Harry had completed it. In some respects this trip was much more nerve wrecking though. Harry was fully aware of the risk he was under as soon as he left The Dursleys.

He was also acutely aware of the risk that he was putting those witches and wizards under as they strove to protect him in the night skies. He could see Tonks zooming past on the left, while Moody circled on his right. Lupin was up ahead – his eyes scanning in every direction while a number of witches and wizards that he didn’t recognise continued to take turns on every side of him, switching and moving in formation – all the time on high alert for anything unusual. Harry was extremely relieved when Lupin signalled the descent and almost fell forward on his numbed knees when his feet finally touched the ground.

Wearily he found himself in a tightly knit group of witches and wizards that made their way down the windswept street. “Harry – I need you to repeat the location to yourself,� Harry heard Lupin whisper.

Harry understood immediately and whispered to himself, “The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

Just as it had done previously, Number Twelve miraculously appeared between Numbers Eleven and Thirteen on the darkened Street. The bunch of witches and wizards hurried to the door and Moody let them in. Everyone remained quiet and tense in the hallway as Professor Moody magically resealed the door. Harry sensed that the house hadn’t lost any of its gloom in the time he had been away. If anything, a feeling of evil seemed to pervade it. Harry felt a hand on his arm guiding him towards the kitchen and he allowed himself to be steered along.

The kitchen felt warm – there was a large fire burning in the grate. Harry found a chair near it and dropped into it, staring at its leaping flames. He remembered the time when he had appeared here to talk to Sirius and Lupin. He remembered how Sirius had knelt in front on the fireplace – gazing at him in concern at his sudden appearance. He remembered the relief in finally being able to confess everything that he had seen in Snape’s pensieve to Sirius. He remembered Sirius trying to explain what his father had been like back then, trying to help him understand that his father hadn’t just been a complete bully, but a rather spoilt and uncontrolled teenager.


Then Harry remembered the last time he had made an appearance in the fireplace. He remembered calling Sirius’s name in panic, willing him to respond. Harry shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts. There was no point in reliving it anymore. It was enough that he relived it every night in his dreams.

“You okay Harry?� Lupin asked gently sitting in a chair opposite Harry. “I hope the summer wasn’t too severe on you.�

Harry smiled and shook his head. Lupin looked tired. His robes were as tattered as ever and he had a lot more grey hair than previously. There were shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep, or worry or grief, or maybe all three. Harry couldn’t really tell.

He shook his head again and replied, “I’m fine Remus, really. Its just strange being back here.�

Lupin sighed. “I know what you mean Harry. I find it hard to believe at times that I am here, and Sirius is not. While he never enjoyed being here, I have to say that I was always comforted by the knowledge that he would be here whenever I got back from a mission for the Order.�

Harry looked at Lupin sitting lost in thought as he gazed into the flames and thought once again of how much everyone had suffered over time.

He felt the weight of gloom that seemed to invade the house, begin to settle heavily on him, but before he had any more time to dwell on it, Mrs Weasley bustled in. “Harry!� she exclaimed dragging him from his seat into an enormous motherly hug. “Oh its so good to see you! My, how tall you have become.�

Remus had noticed it too. “You’ve shot up Harry, you must be a good 3 inches taller since last I saw you.� Mrs Weasley summoning them to help her with supper interrupted him. They all dutifully began helping her, setting the table, gathering glasses, knives and forks.

“You haven’t asked about Ron and Hermione, Harry. I thought you would be shooting up the stairs to catch up with them as soon as you got in the door,� said Lupin as he placed the dinner plates on the kitchen table.

Harry felt himself tense at the mention of his friends but couldn’t quite be sure why. “I thought I would just take a moment to get accustomed to being back here before meeting them,� Harry replied.

Remus seemed to accept this reply and continued to work on preparing the table for supper. “Well, they are bound to be hungry too, so do you mind going upstairs to call them?�

Harry dutifully left the table and headed for the hallway unaware that he was being watched closely by Lupin. A worried look crossed Lupin’s face as he watched the young teenager dejectedly leave the room.

At the top of the first flight of stairs, Harry could already here the heated argument that was raging in Hermione’s room. He could tell from the voices that they were trying to keep the noise level down so as not to set off Mrs Black’s portrait but were finding it increasingly difficult.


“I honestly don’t understand you,� came a bewildered sounding male voice. “I mean, is that what you think I am like? You honestly must think I haven’t the slightest bit of decency in me. I’m telling you it was a genuine mistake and I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t do that to you Hermione, you know that,� the voice continued.

Harry was intrigued. He was accustomed to Ron and Hermione falling out, but this sounded infinitely more serious than their usual wrangling.

He heard Hermione sniff. “Ron, I trusted you and now I don’t see how I can trust you anymore.�

Harry heard someone get up and begin to move towards the door. He hastily backed away to the edge of the stairs to make it seem like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on their conversation. The door opened and Hermione walked out, blowing her nose and wiping her swollen eyes. “Harry!� she exclaimed and moved towards him enveloping him in a hug. Harry hugged her back, momentarily forgetting the row he had just overheard.

Harry was pleased to see Hermione again. He worried that she seemed so upset as she continued to hug him tightly. He made a mental note to try and find out later what had happened, but thought better of bringing it up now. When Hermione had finally let him go, she led him back into her bedroom.

Ron was sitting on the bed, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor. He hardly even seemed to hear them come in. When he did, he smiled and stood up. “Harry, it's good to see you, when did you get here?� he asked.

Harry noticed that Ron kept glancing at Hermione apprehensively while he was talking. Harry was immensely curious as to what had just happened. Hermione, however interrupted before any questions could be asked. “Lets go downstairs for supper. I think that may have been what Harry was coming up here for – to tell us that supper was ready?� she asked.

“Yes, of course,� said Harry. He had temporarily forgotten about what it was that he was supposed to be doing when he came upstairs.

All three of them trooped downstairs. Harry knew that he would be afforded no further chance of enquiring as to what the row had been about. There were too many people milling around the kitchen chatting for him to have any chance of cornering Ron.


Supper was interrupted by a clanging at the front door, followed almost immediately by the screams of Mrs Black’s portrait. Harry realised almost at once, that instead of time diluting the yells and curses of Mrs Black, she was actually a lot worse than she had been previously.

Whereas before Mrs Black had screamed and cursed those people who were Muggle lovers and were befouling the ancient House of Black, now her curses sounded a tad more sinister to Harry. “Traitors beware, the time has come for vengeance to fall sweetly. None will escape, none will be untouched. Those disloyal to the ancient pureblood ways will pay. It has already begun,� he heard her wail.

Harry had stopped eating, his fork halfway between his plate and mouth. No one else seemed to be paying any attention to what Mrs Black was screaming. Harry couldn’t understand why not. He found the hair was standing on end on the back of his neck. It was the tone of voice that Mrs Black used, she sounded confident that what she was saying wasn’t just the threats of a bewitched portrait.

Fred had noticed that Harry wasn’t eating. “She has branched out a bit this year hasn’t she Harry?� he said, referring to the portrait. “Just as crazy as ever, the best you can do mate, is just continue to ignore her.�

Harry nodded and continued to eat, as the yells of Mrs Black became muffled. Obviously someone had succeeded in closing the drapes on the portrait again.


After dinner had finished Harry was happy to make his way upstairs with Ron and fall into bed. He felt exhausted. Returning to a Grimmauld Place that was without Sirius had taken its toll on him emotionally. He had tried to keep up face during dinner, but was finding it increasingly difficult. The void was immense.

He kept remembering Sirius sitting at supper at his side. The way he would lean his chair back on two legs, his long untidy hair falling into his eyes. Being back here just brought too many painful memories back to Harry. He missed Sirius so much that it felt like a physical pain.

Harry found he didn’t even have the energy to discuss the row he had overheard between Ron and Hermione with Ron now that they were in the privacy of their own room. Ron must not have wanted to talk about it either because he made a big show of yawning and telling Harry how exhausted he was. Harry changed and fell into bed. He glanced at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus just long enough to realise that it was empty before falling into a deep sleep.

Harry awoke early next morning, while the room was still only bathed in a half-light as morning arrived. He glanced across at Ron to see him still sleeping soundly. Harry heard a creak on the landing outside his door, thinking it was probably the Weasley twins sneaking downstairs to feed their enormous appetites, he jumped out of bed, and pulling on a sweater over his pyjamas, made his way quietly out of the bedroom.

The hallway was deserted and Harry couldn’t hear any sounds emanating from the downstairs of the house. Upstairs from where he stood, Harry thought he heard the creaking of a closing door. Intrigued now as to who was up at this unearthly hour, Harry cautiously climbed the stairs to the second floor. Here were a number of bedrooms where the rest of the Weasley clan slept. All was peaceful here. Harry looked up the stairs to the third floor of the house.


This was somewhere that was rarely visited by those residing in Grimmauld Place. Sirius’s room was located up there along with many other rooms which had not as yet being ‘de-blackmagic’d’ (as Ron liked to refer to the cleaning of the enormous house).

Harry slowly began to climb, not sure why he felt guilty about doing so. All the same he went quietly so as not to alert Mrs Weasley to his being out of bed. When he reached the darkened hallway he looked left and right, taking in the many doors, most of which were closed.

Except for one. About half way down the corridor, the second last door on the right remained slightly ajar, an unnatural light spilling out onto the corridor. Slowly and cautiously, Harry approached. He carefully pushed the door to open it fully, jumping as it creaked noisily on its hinges. Harry found himself looking into a very dilapidated room. It looked like it had once being a library. Dust coated books lined the shelves along the walls.

In the centre of the room stood a large writing desk. An armchair was pulled up close to it – the back of the chair facing towards Harry. The desk was littered with books and bits of parchment. Directly across the room from the door, light was pouring harshly through the dusty window, whose drapes were half open.

For some reason Harry felt his breath catch and his unease grow. He sensed there was someone sitting at the table, their presence shielded by the back of the large antique armchair.

Harry found himself drawn magnetically towards the chair. He had to see who sat there. Slowly he circled around the armchair and table so that he would be looking at whoever sat there face to face. His hearth hammered in his chest as he tried to move quietly, not wanting to alert the person to his presence.

As he neared his goal, Harry found himself almost too frightened to look up. Once again the hairs were rising on the back of his neck, adrenalin pumping through his veins. Harry realised that he didn’t have his wand with him, but something told him that he wouldn’t need it. He had just experienced some kind of premonition. Harry knew who it was that he was going to see sitting in the armchair, but that didn’t ease his nerves.

As he found himself in front of the table – Harry raised his eyes slowly to the being in the armchair, and just as he had predicted, found himself staring into the face of his Godfather.

Harry realised that he had been holding his breath. For how long he didn’t know. He could feel his hearth hammering in protest at the lack of oxygen. He also felt the adrenalin pumping through his veins, making him almost light headed.

He finally forced himself to take a breath, afraid that doing so would disturb the vision that he was having and that Sirius would disappear. But that didn’t happen. He found that his throat was dry and he was almost incapable of speech.

“Sirius,� Harry whispered, “Is it really you? This isn’t some dream is it?�

His godfather sat in the recessed shadows of the armchair, his elbows resting on its arms, his fingers joined in a pyramid, over which he intently watched Harry in silence.

“Sirius,� Harry said again in a stronger whisper – his voice containing a note of urgency, “Please, just say something.�

Still, no reply came. Sirius continued to regard Harry silently from beneath his long and rather messy hair. As the excitement and fear that Harry was experiencing started to give way to shock of seeing his dead Godfather, Harry for the first time realised that Sirius was looking at him through narrowed and calculating eyes.

Harry was forcefully reminded of how Sirius looked whenever he was in the company of Professor Snape in Grimmauld Place. It was a look of loathing and of barely concealed animosity.

Harry felt uneasy. Everything was far too surreal. He still couldn’t be sure that what he was witnessing was really happening. He thought of pinching himself, but found he really just wanted Sirius to say something to confirm what he was seeing was for real, so he tried yet again, “God Sirius, just say something. Please, I don’t understand how I am seeing you here. Speak to me damn it.� Harry found his temper coming to the surface quickly and unexpectedly.

Slowly Sirius lowered his hands and continued to regard Harry with the same narrowed expression. “What is it you are waiting for me to say Harry?�

Harry had jumped at the sound of his Godfather’s voice. While there was no doubt that it was the voice of Sirius Black, it nonetheless sounded much colder than Harry remembered.


His Godfather continued, “Well, well. I suppose I should have expected as much. You are waiting for me to say something that will reassure you that you can complete this task that has fallen to you. To tell you are strong enough to take on the Dark Lord and Win. I suppose you want me to tell you that it was all meant to be - my premature death, the death of your parents… Is that what you want Harry?�

Harry was having difficulty getting command over his mind and his senses. It was too much to take in.

He had so many questions, yet before he could stutter a reply, Sirius continued, “Yes. I see it now. Your eyes belie what it is you want from me, what you need from me - one final reassurance from beyond the grave. Oh yes Harry, because I am beyond the grave. I have not been miraculously restored to life or anything,� he said, giving a short harsh laugh that made Harry retreat further from the table.

Sirius’s harsh words were like the sting of a whip to Harry’s emotions. He didn’t know how to respond.

Sirius spoke again, “No Harry. I cannot give you any such reassurances. A life of ease and freedom unfortunately, is not for you. Things must go full circle Harry, or haven’t you realised that yet?�

“Sirius� Harry mumbled, trying to find his voice amid the chaos of his mind “I… I don’t know what you mean, what are you saying? Why am I seeing you if you are really dead? Are you haunting me? I just don’t understand.�


Sirius laughed again shaking his head. It was an unpleasant sound.

“Haunting you Harry? Are you sure that it is not the other way around? It seems to me that it is you who have been haunting me all these years. You have been haunting me, and eventually lead me to my death as I sought in my own misguided way to protect you.�

Harry sank to his knees shaking his head, “Don’t say that Sirius, please don’t talk about..that,� he whispered.


“Don’t talk about what Harry?� Sirius persisted, “My death? I know you have been thinking about it all summer. Of course you have. You feel responsible for my death, despite what everyone said. You probably need me to tell you that it was not your fault.�

Sirius paused and looked at Harry – a cold hard look of hatred in those eyes, “But I cannot lie that easily,� he continued, “I don’t think it would be fair on either of us. Full circle Harry. Come on now, think about it. The wheel must come full circle.�

Sirius gazed off into the distance and continued talking, “Would I have died had I never known you existed?�

“Of course,� he continued, “everlasting life is not an option for mere mortals. But would I have died as prematurely as I did? Now that is unlikely. As I say you were haunting me before you were born. You had a direct influence on the path that my life took. And yes, you had a direct influence on my life being taken from me.�

Harry felt the room reel as his senses were assaulted with what Sirius was saying. It couldn’t be true. Sirius would never say something like that. Yet the undeniable truth was that his godfather, Sirius was sitting before him confirming his worst fears. He, Harry, was responsible, solely responsible for his godfather’s death.

Anguish took over and Harry buried his face in his hands and groaned, “No. Stop it Sirius, Please don’t say that, ……please.�

Harry felt the tears begin to leak through his clenched fingers. Sirius seemed to have stopped talking; Harry could vaguely see his Godfather studying him over the tips of his fingers. His vision was blurry from tears and another sound was beginning to break into Harry’s consciousness. Another voice, a worried voice.

“Harry, stop it, you’re beginning to scare me mate.� Harry felt a hand grab his arm attempting to pull it away from his face. Slowly and fearfully, Harry moved his hands away from his face and opened his eyes to find a white faced Ron, sitting at the edge of his bed, staring at him, wide-eyed with worry.

He was in his bed? Harry felt so completely disorientated at first, that he could hardly catch his breath. His heart was still hammering against his ribcage and he felt his face coated in a layer of sweat mingled with tears. He slowly sat up with Ron’s help. Ron was still staring at him in concern. Harry couldn’t help but stare back, shocked to find himself back in his bed.

“What the bloody hell was that all about? I spent a good five minutes trying to wake you up,� Ron said.

Harry shrugged, glad that it was only Ron that was there to witness his nightmare. Was that what it had been? Either way, Ron didn’t seem to want to push Harry as to what he had been dreaming about.

Maybe Ron just assumed that Harry was reliving the death of his Godfather as he tended to do every night during the summer so far. But Harry knew that this nightmare was different. What made it worse was just how frighteningly realistic it had seemed.

Unlike the nightmares that one normally has, that tend to slip away as soon as you try and remember what is was you were dreaming about, every detail of this dream remained etched on Harry’s consciousness.

For some reason, Harry felt unwilling or unable to discuss it with anyone. He feared that they would think he was just on a guilt trip, but they hadn’t seen the cold look in Sirius’s eyes, nor the hard edge to his voice as he had laid the blame for his death squarely at Harry’s door.

It wasn’t just that though, it was the other things that Sirius had said, about Harry haunting him since before he was born and how everything needed to come full circle. What did it mean?

Harry decided to put the thought of the nightmare out of his mind and try not to think about it. It was going to be hard enough to cope with being back in Grimmauld Place without Sirius. There was enough going on with his current nightmares as it stood without this new and disturbing angle that his subconscious seemed to be taking.


He realised that Ron was still sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for an answer, or at the very least, confirmation that Harry was okay. Harry sat up fully, running a hand though his hair. “Sorry Ron, I’m okay now. It was just another nightmare. Sorry for waking you,� he said, by way of explanation.

“Bloody Hell Harry, are your nightmares always that severe? I don’t know how you can get any sleep. Isn’t there something you could take for dreamless sleep or something?� Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, “I don’t think taking a potion would help that much Ron, it would only be delaying the inevitable. Sorry again. Anyway, it doesn’t look like I am the only one having difficulty sleeping, you look pretty tired as well,� Harry added.


“I have the occasional bad dream but nothing on the scale you are accustomed to, “ Ron answered. “You know Harry, if you want to talk about it… it might help, you know, the nightmares and that, they might not be so bad if you talked about it,� Ron finished quietly.

Harry looked at Ron, weighing up the situation. He knew that any nightmares he might be having would be considered a minor detail to Ron in comparison to the revelation of what the prophecy contained. Harry had not yet told anyone of its contents, and the passage of time was not making the revelation any easier.

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Thanks Ron, but for now its okay. I don’t really… I can’t really talk about it yet, but thanks anyway,� Harry finished quietly, while avoiding looking directly at Ron.

Ron nodded slowly and decided to change the subject, recognising Harry’s unease. “Well, we better get up then, Mum will be calling us for breakfast any minute now,� he said.

Harry put on his glasses and checked the clock on his bedside locker.
Indeed, Ron was right, it was already 8.30am. Harry couldn’t understand it, when he had woken earlier and gone upstairs it had been 6am at the latest, where had the time gone? Then he realised what he was thinking and shook his head to clear his confusion. ‘It was all a nightmare you idiot,’ he told himself, ‘you didn’t get up earlier, and you haven’t been on the third floor.’

Harry got up and took a shower to clear his mind. As soon as he was dressed, he went downstairs to meet the others for breakfast. There was a noticeable coolness between Ron and Hermione. Harry wondered why he had not noticed it the previous night.

They were busily engaged in conversations with anyone else at the table except for each other. Harry found himself gazing around the kitchen while the Weasleys and Hermione bustled around the table, helping themselves to breakfast. He didn’t know why but he felt a distinct chill there. He wondered were the others aware of it. It was as if all the malevolent feelings that had been lessened during the frenetic cleaning and subsequent habitation of Number Twelve during the previous year had returned ten fold.

Harry looked about him at his companions. None of them seemed hugely affected with the gloomy atmosphere. At most there was less laughter and joking going on, but other than that, there wasn’t any obvious change.


Once breakfast was over – Mrs Weasley assigned chores to everyone. There was still much work to be done on the house and Mrs Weasley seemed to be stepping the work rate up a notch to try and get rid of all traces of black magic as soon as possible. ‘Maybe she notices the darkened atmosphere here too and it is worrying her,’ Harry wondered.

He decided it was pointless to dwell on it anymore and instead went with the others to gather cleaning materials for the job ahead.

It was a habit that Harry had become accustomed to lately; delaying dwelling on uncomfortable thoughts or memories, like Sirius or Voldemort. He hadn’t even begun to grieve for his Godfather and the only time those thoughts forced their way to the surface was in his dreams and nightmares that plagued him unrelentingly that summer.

As for Voldemort, Harry didn’t have the strength emotionally to begin to build up to what was going to be the fight for his life. He found himself unable to enquire as to what the members of the Order were currently doing. Knowing as he did, that ultimately they would not be able to prevent what had been prophesised, and that he would have to face Voldemort sooner or later. No one could circumvent that from happening. All he could hope for now was as much respite as possible before that final battle.

Harry gathered what he needed and slowly made his way to the hallway. He was to be working on the Second Floor today – finishing up the cleaning of the remaining bedroom and drawing room. As he began to ascend the Stairs, he heard a whispered voice that caused his hair to stand on end and freeze mid-step.

“It has begun. The thoughts have been planted and those at the centre will be the first petals to fade and Die.� Harry whipped around trying to discern where the disembodied voice had come from, but he was totally alone on the stairway.

Harry continued to stare around him, trying to locate the source of the voice he had heard. Only then did he notice the slight rippling of the curtain covering the portrait of Mrs Black. Harry found himself descending the stairs until he was level with her portrait. He reached out a hesitant hand to the fabric of the curtain, but as he touched the fabric preparing to pull it back, he suffered a severe flashback to the image of Sirius seated on a large armchair, his fingers forming a pyramid before his face, his eyes dark and harsh boring into Harry.

Harry jumped back from the portrait, almost tumbling down the stairs as he did so. As soon as contact was broken with the material of the curtain, the image seemed to dissolve from Harry’s mind’s eye.

He found he was shaking and his heart was racing. Gathering his splintered nerves, he continued upstairs to begin his work. He thought about telling Ron and Hermione about the vision but immediately dismissed it for one very practical reason. Telling them would involve talking about Sirius and he really wasn’t ready for that yet. He tried to put the disturbing thoughts out of his mind and begin to help the others decontaminate his dead Godfather’s house.

Harry and Ginny had been assigned the task of cleaning the bedroom on the second floor, Ron and Hermione – the drawing room. Ginny, no longer so shy around Harry was happy to be assigned to work with a new face, having seen more than enough of Ron and Hermione over the past few weeks.

She had grown, Harry noticed. While she hadn’t grown a lot taller – she was still a good four inches shorter than he, she had become more curvaceous he supposed. Or maybe she had always been like that and Harry just hadn’t noticed, he wasn’t so sure. What he did know was that he couldn’t help looking at her as she climbed on a chair to tackle the top of a dusty wardrobe. She was wearing a black v-necked light wool sweater and jeans. Both showed off her figure. Harry shook his head, not believing that he was unashamedly checking out Ron’s little sister.

Ginny did not appear to have noticed anything unusual about Harry’s behaviour. She was somewhat preoccupied as she cleaned. “Ginny?� Harry ventured.

“Yes Harry?� Ginny replied coming out of her reverie somewhat.

“How does Grimmauld place feel to you?� he asked

Harry could see Ginny didn’t understand what he was asking so he tried again. “Do you think it feels different since, well, since the last time we were here?� he asked.

Ginny nodded slowly. “And not in a good way either Harry. I’m glad you’ve noticed it too. We have done all this cleaning and that, but it doesn’t seem to have helped the atmosphere all that much. It feels …..creepy at times.� She wanted to say Evil but felt that might be a little strong. “At times when I am in some of the rooms, or walking upstairs, I feel like someone is watching me even though I know I’m on my own.� Ginny shivered involuntarily.

Harry nodded. “That’s exactly it. I felt like that earlier when I was coming up the stairs and I thought, well, I thought I heard someone whispering something.�

Ginny was looking at him curiously but he didn’t go into the details, not wanting to make her any more nervous than she already was. “So how do Ron and Hermione feel about it? Surely they don’t like staying here with the strange atmosphere there is in the house?� he asked.


Ginny shrugged. “That’s just it Harry. They are being really strange about it. Hermione doesn’t seem to notice at all that there is anything wrong here. She did when she first arrived, but now whenever I mention it she just tells me to stop imagining things. Ron on the other agrees with me, but never says so in front of Hermione. She tends to get very aggravated with us whenever the subject is broached,� Ginny said.

Harry was bewildered. The feeling of darkness and dread that seemed to invade the house was inescapable. How could Hermione not notice it? He wondered if that had anything to do with the row he had overheard between Ron and Hermione on the night he arrived.


For now it didn’t look like there was a lot he could do about the situation so he put the thoughts to the back of his mind and continued with the job at hand. At 1pm they heard Mrs Weasley calling them to lunch and so dropping their cleaning materials, he and Ginny left the bedroom and walked out to the hallway. The bedroom in which they had been working, was right at the end of the corridor on the second floor. Harry, on exiting the room was reminded forcefully of his dream the night before – there, right in front of him was the stairway leading to the third floor. He hesitated for a moment, before beginning to climb the stairs.

He felt an undeniable curiosity coursing through him and only investigating the third floor would help to alleviate it. He vaguely heard Ginny calling his name but chose to ignore her. He pressed on at an almost anxious pace until he was standing on the landing of the third floor. His breath caught in his throat. Harry had never been up here. He was sure of that and yet everything looked strangely familiar. Before he looked down the corridor, he already knew that the second-last door on the right would be open.

Slowly, as if in a trance, Harry moved toward the door, his eyes on the pool of light spilling through the open door into the hallway. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, adrenalin pumping through his veins. As he neared the open door he swallowed hard and tried to calm his nerves. It had just been a dream after all.

He pushed the door open and despite himself, jolted with shock as he took in the details of a room which was in every way identical to the one he had found himself in during his dream last night. There was the table, littered with parchment in the centre of the room, the dust-covered books lining shelves on all the walls. And there, drawn up close to the table was a large, high backed armchair.

With an immense feeling of De Je Vue, Harry slowly circled the room to the other side of the table without raising his eyes. Then slowly he raised his gaze to face whoever or whatever sat in the armchair.

The chair was empty.

Harry had so expected to see his godfather there that he experienced an immense wave of disappointment and loss when he found himself staring at an empty chair. He couldn’t understand why. Had he become so unhinged that he had expected to see his dead godfather sitting there before him?

Harry shook his head as if to shake off the last remnants of last nights dream. But even now he had difficulty calling it a ‘dream’. How had he known the exact layout of this room if he had never been here before?

He glanced around again, feeling the same rush of gloom and darkness pervade his body. There was nothing specific that he could see that was affecting his mood so badly, and yet once again Harry felt a malevolent force bearing down upon his spirits.

He looked again at the table in front of him, strewn as it was with parchment and books and …..a Photo Frame. Why hadn’t he noticed this sooner? Harry picked up the frame and turned it towards him. It was a magical one where the people kept moving and Harry was mesmerised to find himself staring at a group of people he could never have imagined being in the same picture.

It was impossible. And yet it wasn’t – there it was in front of him.

Harry watched as the younger versions of his parents laughed and kissed each other. They couldn’t have been any more than seventeen. Sirius stood close behind them – his arms around the waist of an attractive raven-haired girl. Sirius was of about the same age or perhaps a little older, and very good looking – his dark hair falling into his eyes. He was laughing down into the face of the girl. She leaned up and whispered something in his ear and the both shook with laughter. But that wasn’t all. Harry’s eyes strayed to the left of the picture – and there were Ron and Hermione, sitting under a tree talking with Ginny. He couldn’t understand it. How were they depicted here in the same picture as his parents and Sirius?


All seven people looked around the same age, yet the pictures must have been taken a good twenty years apart. When Harry finally managed to tear his eyes away from the amazing sight – he noticed the frame that the picture was in. It was an antique wrought iron frame. Heavy to the touch, the edge embossed with the outline of a long serpent, whose body wound around the thorns and petals of Roses.

There was an inscription at the bottom of the frame ‘Circus Ultima’. Harry frowned – he had no idea what it meant and was still busy staring at the occupants in the frame when he finally noticed that Ginny had been standing quietly in the room, watching him.

Harry jumped and clutched the picture closer to him. “Jeez Ginny, you frightened the life out of me. How long have you been standing there?� he asked.

Ginny didn’t answer initially. She shivered slightly as if she were cold and glanced around the room apprehensively. “Harry, we shouldn’t be up here. It’s off limits. You know that. Mum would kill us if she found out,� she said in a worried tone.

Harry sighed “I know, but I won’t say anything if you don’t okay? It is a bit strange up here. I can see her reasoning for keeping us away from this part of the house.�

He decided it would be best not to try and explain to Ginny that he had already been up here, at least his subconscious had at any rate. He didn’t think it would improve her opinion of Grimmauld Place or of him for that matter. Not to mention the fact that she would want to know exactly what his nightmare had been about. It was something Harry would avoid having to relate at all costs.

He moved closer to Ginny, running his hand up and down her arm. “Are you cold? I thought I saw you shiver,� he added quietly. He didn’t know why but being around Ginny was making him feel a little strange. He put it down to lack of sleep from the night before and moved towards the door still clutching the picture.

“What do you have there Harry?� Ginny enquired moving closer to him, trying to glimpse the picture that he was attempting to conceal.

“Nothing,� Harry answered a little too quickly, “It’s, it’s just a picture of my Mum and Dad. Sirius must have framed it.�

Ginny nodded and asked, “Can I see it? I don’t think I have ever seen a picture of your Mum and Dad, except the one you keep on your bedside locker.�

She reached out a hand to turn the frame around when Harry jumped away from her. “NO,� he shouted.

Ginny jumped a little and looked at Harry apprehensively, “Okay Harry – no need to take my head off, it’s only a pic.. �

“NOT TO ME IT ISN’T,� Harry yelled again. He didn’t know why he was getting so irrational.

He could tell Ginny was upset with his sudden burst of anger but trying not to show it. “Calm down Harry. You don’t have to show me. It’s okay,� she said. Her voice was calm though her face showed the mixture of emotions she was experiencing at finding Harry yelling at her for no apparent reason.

“Sorry Gin,� he muttered. He didn’t know what had got into him. “Look, we better get downstairs before all the food is gone. And Ginny?�

“Yes?� she replied.


“Don’t come up here anymore. Its not…. it doesn’t feel safe somehow,� Harry finished quietly, avoiding looking directly at her.

Ginny nodded. “I know what you mean. I have no desire to do any exploring up here. And you Harry? I don’t think you should come up here anymore either.�

Without warning Harry felt anger swell within him again and turned suddenly towards Ginny. It took all his self-control not to shout at her that he was well capable of looking after himself. Ginny seemed to notice the look in his eyes because she quickly turned to leave. She walked past Harry, giving his arm a quick squeeze before heading downstairs.

Harry watched her retreating back with a puzzled expression before following her downstairs. He was beginning to wonder if he was going mad with the sudden mood changes he was experiencing.

After lunch the day continued as normal. Ginny made no further reference to the incident on the third floor and they continued to work together in relative silence. Harry found himself glancing at Ginny from time to time. She seemed immersed in her work and didn’t seem to notice.

When had Ginny grown up so much? Harry was sure that the last time he had seen her, she had just been Ron’s little sister, but now…

She seemed to have blossomed almost overnight. Harry assumed that wasn’t the case but was still slow to admit that Ginny could have looked like this for some time now, and he just hadn’t noticed.


He found it was certainly taking a little of the boredom out of the work anyway when Ginny was at his side. Ginny however was quiet. She was a little taken aback and admittedly a little frightened at the way Harry had turned on her earlier. She remembered the look in his eyes when she had suggested that he shouldn’t wander up to the third floor either. It had frightened her – his green eyes had been almost black with blazing anger, and then it had seemed to dissipate just as suddenly as it had arrived.

That wasn’t the only reason she was quiet however. She knew they weren’t the only people to have ventured up to the third floor. Not wanting to risk another outburst directed at her or anyone else, Ginny decided to keep this information to herself and not say anything to Harry.


Neither of them had heard from Ron or Hermione all day. They had seen them both at lunch and both had seemed quiet and unwilling to say much except eat and return to their chores. Harry couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He wanted to ask Ginny but figured that after his earlier outburst he had no right to ask her to fill in the missing details of what was going on with his friends. Ginny had been telling him all she knew of what was happening in the Order at the moment.

She had been surprised that Harry hadn’t asked many questions or even grumbled that they weren’t being told enough. He had just nodded his head as she spoke and continued with his work. She reckoned that Remus had probably already filled him in which was why he didn’t have any questions. If so, she would have expected him to tell her the details that she didn’t already know but he added nothing to the conversation. She decided that he must still be preoccupied with the death of Sirius and let it slide.


That night, Harry resolved to find out what was amiss with Ron and Hermione, so when he and Ron had returned to his room and were getting into their beds, he resolved to find out. “All right Ron, Spill,� he ordered.

“What?� Ron muttered, trying to buy time.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and Hermione,� Harry asked.


“What do you mean, going on? Me and Hermione are friends. Nothing more, nothing less… Or at least we were,� He finished quietly.

“What I meant was, what are you two fighting about now?� Harry asked patiently, trying not to smirk at Ron’s blushing ears.

“We’re not fighting,� Ron said cagily. “We’re just not getting on as well as we normally do. I don’t know Harry. I think Hermione has got a touch of Cabin Fever or something. Maybe its just being here cooped up for so long. She’s just not herself,� he finished shaking his head.

Harry could see Ron was worried so he tried again, “In what way Ron? Is she acting weird or something?�

But Ron didn’t seem to want to say anymore. “It’s nothing Harry, honest,� he said, a tone of finality in his voice.


“Look, if you like Ron, I can work with her tomorrow and you can work with Ginny if it would make things any easier,� Harry volunteered.

Harry had his own reasons for wanting to work with Hermione. Ginny was making him feel a little too uncomfortable. He didn’t know what was going through his head, but he was pretty sure that Ron wouldn’t appreciate the fact that he had been surreptitiously eyeing up his baby sister.

“No need,� Ron replied hastily. I’d rather work with her even if she is not talking to me. At least that way….�

“What? At least that way what?� Harry asked, but Ron just looked guilty and shrugged his shoulders. Harry sighed. He was getting no sense out of his friend and sensed that the conversation wouldn’t yield any further information no matter how hard he pushed, so he decided to give it up and go to sleep.

Next morning he awoke early to find Ron shuffling back into the bedroom looking puffy eyed from tiredness and dragging a blanket behind him. He jumped on seeing Harry staring at him and said quickly in explanation, “Got up to get a drink last night and fell asleep downstairs.� Harry sensed a lie behind his words, but decided wisely to ignore it for now.

In some respects he was kind of relieved. He had been dreaming about Sirius again last night and knew that he tended to shout out in his dreams. At least he wouldn’t have to explain and apologise if Ron hadn’t been there to hear it.

After Ron had dressed and gone downstairs, Harry pulled out the antique frame from under his bed and stared at its inhabitants once again. It still puzzled him exceedingly and he was beginning to feel like it was trying to tell him something, but what?

Harry gazed sadly at the picture again. Seeing the happy expressions on his parents’ faces, knowing at that time they had no idea what their life held in store for them, he felt a deep sense of sorrow begin to stir in his heart.

He found his attention wandering to Sirius. Harry forgot just how good-looking Sirius had been before Azkaban had worn down and deadened the vibrant man that he had once been. In many respects he had been better looking than James. He had that touch of danger about him that women had found irresistible.

Harry had learned that much from conversations with Sirius and with Lupin. Lupin used to tease Sirius about being such a hit with the ladies. Sirius used to laugh it off, but couldn’t seem to deny it outright.

Harry could see why. The Raven-haired girl was looking at Sirius with a mixture of amusement and attraction. Harry could see she was having trouble tearing her eyes away from his, to gaze out of the picture at Harry. Harry watched Sirius dip his head and whisper something in her ear, his lips grazing her cheek. She closed her eyes slightly as she leaned back into him.

Harry had no idea who this woman could have been. He assumed that it was just a girlfriend that Sirius had acquired when he was in his late teens. It was a relationship that probably hadn’t lasted. He may have been incredibly good looking but Sirius was also incredibly pig headed and independent as a teenager. Lupin had confided that while girls had adored Sirius, he never seemed to want to keep anyone too close, and most relationships he had were intense but short lived, usually ending with yet another female broken heart.


Harry turned his attention to Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Hermione and Ginny seemed to be deep in conversation while Ron was slightly distanced from them, leaning against a tree watching them.

Harry studied Ron’s countenance for a moment, and suddenly noticed something about his expression. Unaware that he was being watched, Ron in the picture gazed at Hermione seated near him. In this unguarded moment, Harry could read the love and protectiveness in Ron’s eyes as he watched Hermione laughing and chatting with Ginny. ‘So,’ Harry mused, ‘it would appear that this Ron does indeed have feelings for Hemione, and it looks like it could be a little more than a crush from what his face is telling me.’

Sighing, Harry stood up from his bed and replaced the picture under his pillow, with one last look at his parents. It made him too sad watching them innocently laugh and enjoy life. His heart felt heavy once again. Too much grief and worry seemed to weigh heavily upon his thin, young frame.

His eyes dulled as his head filled with thoughts of what he had lost and what he now faced in his future. He paused before the bedroom door, his eyes downcast, wondering yet again how he was supposed to achieve what was in store for him. After all he was just a boy, a mere teenager. How on earth was he supposed to face and kill a wizard with the magical abilities of Dumbledore coupled with knowledge of Black Magic that even Dumbledore could not master.


The door to the bedroom creaked open and Ginny stood there. She had gone looking for Harry to tell him that if he wanted any breakfast he would need to get downstairs ASAP. She stood there silently.

Harry hadn’t seemed to notice her presence. Ginny stood there momentarily silenced by the wearied and saddened look that Harry wore. There was just such a well of grief evident in his eyes. Something that Ginny hadn’t ever noticed there before. She hadn’t thought about just how much effort Harry made in keeping up a neutral front.

She knew she was seeing what was really going on in his head and his heart at that moment. She was afraid to disturb it, worried that any attempt she might make at words of comfort would just sound like teenage mumblings and would only serve to embarrass both Harry and herself.

Instead she quietly approached him and ignoring her quaking will and the blush creeping up her face, she reached out her hand, taking one of Harry’s in her own.

She gazed down at his fingers in her hand. They offered no resistance, neither pulling away nor entwining with hers.

Harry seemed unable to raise his eyes to hers. He gazed at the smaller hand holding his and felt it give his fingers a brief squeeze. Taking a shuddering breath, he raised his eyes to Ginny’s face. She was still staring at their hands. With his free hand, he raised it to her chin, gently forcing her to raise her head so that their eyes met.

For a brief moment they stood like that, brown staring into green. Ginny reading the pain that showed there, Harry registering the worry that rested in Ginny’s. He slowly leaned towards her. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek. They were too close to continue eye contact.

She sensed Harry’s eyes move down to her slightly parted lips. She moved closer to him, so that there was only the slightest space remained between them. Harry let instinct guide him. Closing the hair’s breadth of space between them, Harry brushed his lips against hers in the lightest and slowest of kisses.


Ginny found she was holding her breath. She found the strangest sensations course through her. It was pure attraction. A kind of animal magnetism that took her breath away and made her feel dizzy with its intensity. In the milliseconds that Harry’s lips brushed against hers, she was lost.

The abruptness of how the moment ended was shocking. Her eyes still closed, she heard a sharp intake of breath from Harry and felt his fingers pull away from hers. The warmth that had seemed to envelope her dissipated and her eyes flew open as she felt Harry move away from her suddenly. He stood there staring at her in shock, then backed away slowly before turning and bolting out the door.

Author's Note: Hermione's reaction might seem a little OOC, but there is a reason to it, that becomes more obvious later on the in the story.

Ginny hardly had time to react and could already hear Harry charge downstairs. She heard a door slam. She raised a shaking finger to her lips. What the hell had just happened? She had not had any intention of letting him kiss her, but she had found herself feeling reckless as soon as he had come close to her. All she had been able to concentrate on was his lips moving closer to hers. She had never really felt a crazy attraction like that before and it worried her. More so, why the hell had he pulled away like that? He had acted like he had just got an electric shock.

She remembered the look on his face and blushed in shame. She should never have left him kiss her like that. What the hell was going on in her head?

She knew she had got over her past obsession with Harry and hadn’t even felt remotely attracted to him up to now, not even when they were working together all day yesterday. And now that he was gone from the room, she couldn’t understand where the attraction had come from as now, it seemed to have disappeared just as quickly.


Harry slammed the door of the library and leaned with his back to it gasping for air. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest as if he had run a mile, even though all he had done was run downstairs away from Ginny.

Ginny. What the hell had just come over him? It was so out of character for him that he hardly knew how to explain his actions at all. He had never initiated a kiss like that with anyone. Nor had he ever really felt that inexplicable pull of magnetism towards a girl like he had just experienced upstairs.

While it was completely and utterly out of character for him to have even considered kissing Ginny, what worried him even more was what had happened when his lips had touched hers.

Harry had experienced such a severe flashback that for a moment he was sure he was on the third floor once again staring at Sirius across the table in the library. It had shocked him so much that he had gasped and pulled away from Ginny as though she were poison.


He couldn’t think what else to do so he had run down here. What on earth was going on? Why was he suffering from such flashbacks to something that had only happened in his subconscious while he slept?


As the feeling of shock had worn off, Harry was left feeling intensely embarrassed. He had no idea what had made him kiss Ginny in the first place. He had just felt such a strong pull towards her that all his will seemed to have left him. Harry knew he had been checking Ginny out over the last few days, but had never in a lifetime planned on acting on it. He shook his head in bewilderment and wondered what punishment Ron would mete out if he knew.

Even though Ron was his best friend, Harry suspected that Ron was no longer of the opinion that he and Ginny being an item was a good idea. The happenings at the Department of Mysteries had opened his eyes to risk they were all at.

Harry knew that Ron was well aware of how the risk was multiplied ten-fold if you were a friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. Ron didn’t want to expose his sister to any more risk than she was already in. Harry had noticed Ron studying him when they were together, he knew Ron well enough to know that he was checking of any signs of attachment or interest on either his part or Ginny’s.


Harry also knew that had Ron detected anything, he wouldn’t have hesitated in pulling Harry up on it. Things had changed. They were no longer carefree teenagers and as much as Ron would do anything for Harry, letting his baby sister come to harm if he could prevent it not one of them.


Harry knew he would have to be very careful never to let slip what had happened between him and Ginny. And anyway, it had only been a moment of madness hadn’t it?
After he had calmed himself sufficiently, and talked himself out of the crazy idea that he might actually like Ginny, he made his way shakily to the kitchen, apologising to Mrs. Weasley for being late for breakfast and hastily grabbed some toast. Ron and Hermione were still at the table. Ron looked bleary and tired. He sat hunched over a cup of coffee, his hands wrapped around the steaming mug. He seemed lost in his thoughts and had hardly noticed Harry’s entrance.

Hermione on the other hand, had greeted Harry and now continued to read her book at the table while nibbling at some toast. Harry took the opportunity to study Hermione closely.

He had hardly had an opportunity to speak with her since he arrived two days earlier, yet he felt something was amiss. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He still hadn’t got an adequate explanation for the row that Hermione and Ron had been having.

It was then that it clicked. Why hadn’t Hermione approached him about the row? In the past, any time Ron would be acting the idiot or upsetting Hermione, she normally wasted no time in approaching Harry to vent her frustrations about Ron and his stupidity.

Harry had always provided that role to the rowing pair, listening in turns to Hermione’s irritation at Ron’s stubbornness, or Ron’s inability to understand what the hell he had said or done that was now upsetting Hermione.


Ron, bless him, was still rather clueless when it came to girls. It was the main disaster area shared by him and Harry. Neither of them were very adept at understanding girls very well at all. It meant that most of Ron and Hermione’s rows were inadvertently caused by Ron, who never failed to look bewildered in the face of a torrent of abuse issued by Hermione after he would once again, have proved himself to be a ‘prat’.

But this was different. Why hadn’t either of them attempted to talk to him about, well, anything since he had come back? Hermione, Harry would have expected to be the one to fill him in on all the happenings of the Order, not Ginny. In fact Hermione had never even mentioned the Order since he had got there.

While Harry had been dwelling on all this, the others had left the table and begun their day’s work. Harry approached Mrs Weasley as she cleaned up the remains of the breakfast. “Mrs Weasley, how long has Hermione been staying here this summer?� he asked.


Mrs Weasley paused for a moment in thought, “Let me see, I think she must of got here about two weeks prior to you Harry dear.�

“And what have she and Ron been working on in the house since then?� Harry asked.


Mrs Weasley looked at Harry in confusion. “Well, lets see, the first week, we decided to get another bedroom cleaned out on the second floor, we need the extra space now that we are all staying here for the summer. It’s a job I thought Hermione would get through rather quickly, she is such a good worker you know. But I found that when she hadn’t finished it by the end of that week, I assigned Ron to help her with it. Since then they have worked together every day. Ron was very insistent about it actually,� Mrs Weasley finished, as she continued with her cleaning and Harry gathered the utensils he had been using the day before and made his way upstairs, still deep in thought.


As he passed the portrait of Mrs Black in the hallway, he heard the disembodied whisper once again, “It has begun. The pawns are in place. The petals begin to fall as summer fades�

Once again, Harry stood stock still on the stairway, waiting for his madly beating heart to slow. His hand itched to reach out and pull back the curtain surrounding the portrait, but he steadied his will, and turning deliberately away from it, he continued up the stairs.

Much as he didn’t like to admit it, Harry was perturbed. It wasn’t so much the disembodied voice that upset him, but what it had said. Harry sensed the hidden message in the words, but no matter how often he ran over them in his mind, they still didn’t make any sense. They sounded like a warning, but of what? And how could Harry trust a warning being issued by the portrait of someone was so immersed in black magic, not to mention the fact that she was very, very dead??

His meandering mind at least allowed him to work with Ginny without feeling any further embarrassment. His mind was far too occupied to dwell on what had happened that morning anymore. After a muttered apology to Ginny when he had met her in the bedroom in which they were working, Harry lapsed into silence once again.


Ginny, on the other hand, found his presence more than a little disturbing. She had just about got over the ‘kiss’ incident this morning, and now Harry was acting like she didn’t exist. This was just too strange. If it weren’t for the fact that Ginny too, had her own share of worries that Harry didn’t know about, she might have found herself tempted to question him as to what had come over him that morning.


The day passed in a similar fashion to the previous day. Harry and Ginny, finding that they had finished their work in the bedroom by afternoon went to help Ron and Hermione.

Harry began to assist Hermione with the cabinet that she was clearing out. Some of the objects were proving themselves to be dangerous, so Hermione had to proceed slowly and carefully, using a long metal tongs to extract some of the items so that she would not get bitten or burned by some of the hardier inhabitants of the cabinet.

She and Harry talked about this and that while they worked. It cemented the idea in Harry’s mind that Hermione was not herself. While Harry hadn’t exactly been chomping at the bit when it came to talking about the Order and what they were doing, Hermione, very simply didn’t want to know.

Harry could hardly recognise her from the girl that he had known the previous summer. She seemed permanently distracted and showed little or no interest in what was being done to organise the fight against Voldemort.

Harry had gradually introduced the subject of Voldemort, the Order and their efforts into his conversation with Hermione. He wanted to gauge Hermione’s thoughts through her replies. However, Hermione was obtuse with her answers until Harry took the more direct approach and questioned her outright on her lack on interest in the Order and what they were doing. Her reply could not have been more unexpected, or unwelcome. “Look Harry, I don’t know what you are getting so worked up about,� she replied nonchalantly, “to be frank, these efforts are just a smoke screen if you ask me. When push comes to shove, a lot more of the order will end up going the way Sirius did�.

Harry, obviously, had snapped on hearing this, he reached out grabbing Hermione’s wrist and spinning her around to face him, he glared at her – his face inches from hers. “Don’t you dare ever say anything of that nature again Hermione. DO YOU HEAR ME? I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you but I for one certainly don’t need to hear your twisted take on how the war is going,� he growled.

Harry’s fingers were digging into the soft skin on the inside of Hermione’s wrist. He grip was so tight that blood was having difficulty circulating to her fingers. Hermione winced as his grip tightened on her wrist.

Ron intervened as soon as he noticed there was a problem. He had not heard what Hermione had said, but one look at Harry and he knew that his best friend was just barely reigning in his anger. “Harry mate, easy now would you? At the very least loosen your grip on Hermione,� Ron asked in a tense voice.

He looked from one of them to the other with a look of apprehension, all the while prying at Harry’s fingers, attempting to loosen them from Hermione’s wrist.

Harry dropped Hermione’s wrist suddenly and moved away from the pair of them. He was still intensely angry and shocked at what Hermione had said. He knew if it had been Ron, that Ron would currently be nursing a black eye and a bloody nose.

He had barely held himself back from striking Hermione. He couldn’t believe what she had just said. What the hell was going through her mind?

He ran a hand angrily through his hair and turned back to where a frightened looking Hermione and a worried looking Ron still stood. “You,� he said, pointing at Hermione, “I don’t know what has come over you, but if that is your take on how the war is going then I think you are in the wrong house and should think about leaving. We don’t need people here who have already lost any hope of victory over Voldemort.�


Harry’s voice shook. He had spent most of his summer so far trying to avoid thinking about Voldemort and how their paths were destined to cross in the cruellest of ways at some point in the future. He still hadn’t told his friends about the prophecy, and after Hermione’s little outburst, he realised that he wouldn’t be telling them either. This was something that he was going to have to deal with on his own after all.


He quickly left the room and went to his bedroom to cool down. His anger had given way to dismay and shock. Hermione had always been so positive, even in the face of despair. What had made her change so much?

Harry hadn’t wanted to think or talk about the Order or Voldemort. He found that coping with everything else in Grimmauld Place left little room for worrying about the future. The sick twisty feeling he got every time someone mentioned the efforts the Order were making didn’t help the situation. Harry needed time, yet he had no way of knowing how much time he had until he would be forced to face Voldemort again.

He knew the others found his lack of interest strange, but his current grief, combined with being back in Grimmauld Place made it impossible for him to actively seek information. Some things were just too fresh in his memory. He couldn’t move on yet and start preparing for the future battle.


When Harry had finally calmed himself and returned to help the others again, Hermione was nowhere in sight. Ginny whispered to him that she had gone downstairs to help Mrs. Weasley. Harry didn’t respond. Even the mere mention of her name was causing his ire to rise again. Harry didn’t discuss the row with Ron. He had expected Ron to berate him for getting so physically angry with Hermione, but he didn’t.

Ron just looked worried most of the time. He talked in a low voice to Harry about the Order and what they were doing. Harry had noticed that Ron only tended to bring up the Order in conversation when Hermione wasn’t around. However this was rare. Wherever Hermione was, Ron tended to be there too.

The week wore on and Harry continued to watch Hermione. She seemed edgy and more than once was found to be missing when she was supposed to be helping Harry and Ginny with some of their jobs. When Harry complained to Ron that Hermione didn’t seem to be pulling her weight, Ron would immediately go to find her. After some time they would eventually return to the others. Ron would look pale and angry and Hermione, a little put out too.

Harry wondered at times how Ron was holding his patience with her at all. She was nothing short of rude towards him, and some of her sniping remarks were very hurtful. Harry could see by the look on Ron’s face that the vocal barbs hit the spot nine times out of ten. If it weren’t for the fact that Harry didn’t want to initiate an argument with Hermione himself, he would have told her long ago that her attitude was out of order. However Harry feared that is his anger was piqued again, he may not have as much luck controlling it as he had previously. His emotions were all over the place, and he felt that it would be potentially disastrous to let them spiral out of control.

Harry was no closer to deciphering the whispered voices and what they were referring to. He found himself noting each warning on a piece of parchment and studying them at night when he went to bed. He still suffered from dreams about the library upstairs, but was managing through the skills he had learnt as part of Legilimency to actually empty his mind enough so that he wasn’t as prone to dreaming. If he found himself wandering to the third floor, his subconscious would immediately begin to wake him before he made it as far as the open library door.

When this happened, Harry would invariably wake with a jump, sweating, his heart beating wildly. Unlike the time he had dreamt of the corridor and door in the Department of Mysteries, Harry felt no curiosity pulling him into the library this time. He knew what lay there and couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Sirius, of hearing Sirius speak to him like he had done in the last nightmare.

Harry felt very much alone. Ron was preoccupied with Hermione, even though he wouldn’t admit it. Hermione had become even more distant since their last argument and didn’t attempt to engage with Harry at all. Even Ginny didn’t have a lot to say to him. She wasn’t openly aggressive (which, Harry reasoned, she had every right to be.). She just quietly got on with her work. Harry was sincerely sorry for the kiss he had initiated, it seemed to have just pushed him further away from Ginny and that was the last thing he wanted.

Ginny found herself keeping a close eye on Harry. She had been on the receiving end of his anger once, and didn’t want it to happen again. She had witnessed the altercation between himself and Hermione and had to admit that Harry had held his temper in check admirably. She had heard every word of what Hermione had said, and knew that had she been in his place, she would have found it very hard to resist slapping some sense into Hermione.

As it was Ginny and she did not talk much anymore. Ginny found it hard to understand, she and Hermione had been so close. They used to discuss everything together.. Now, they shared nothing in common but the same bedroom.

A day or so after the argument between Harry and Hermione, he found himself once again working with Ginny and Hermione on the second floor. Ron was helping his mother move some furniture downstairs. Once again, when Harry looked around he found Hermione missing in action. ‘Typical,’ he thought bitterly.

Just then Ron arrived back to join the others, his eyes sweeping the room, searching for Hermione. He sighed and turned to leave. Harry didn’t need to ask where he was going. He knew that he would return a few minutes later with Hermione in tow. Harry continued with his work, half listening to the sounds of Ron’s footsteps leading away from the room along the corridor. He was snapped into awareness however on hearing the first step of a stairway creak. Harry tensed.

Ron was going upstairs to the third floor.

Harry spun around on his heel and glared at Ginny accusingly. “Why on earth is Ron going up there? He knows we are not allowed up there doesn’t he?� he asked.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders, “Don’t go getting mad with him now Harry. Ron wouldn’t go up there if it weren’t for….�

She didn’t seem to want to finish what she were saying, but judging from the look on Harry’s face, she realised that he was going to get into another terrible argument with Ron if she didn’t explain.


Unwilling to drop her friends in it with Harry, Ginny thought about her options and realised that she had no choice.

“It’s Hermione,� Ginny said quietly. Harry looked even more alert to what Ginny was saying at the mention of Hermione’s name.

“What about her?� he asked curiously.

Ginny sighed, “Ron isn’t going up to the third floor for the good of his health Harry. He has gone up there now to fetch Hermione. We all know that Mum doesn’t want us to go up there. Hell, I wouldn’t go up there even if she hadn’t laid down the law about it, but Hermione has just completely disregarded what Mum has said,� Ginny said.

“But Ginny, this is Hermione we are talking about here, she is not a rule breaker. If anything I would have thought she would be the one telling Ron to behave himself and follow Mrs. Weasley’s Orders,� Harry said in a puzzled voice, thinking of all the occasions in the past where Hermione had been the sole voice of reason when it came to Harry and Ron’s schemes.

“I know Harry,� Ginny responded, shaking her head. “I am as puzzled by her behaviour as you are. This isn’t the first time she has ventured up there you know. Ron has had his hands full for the last few weeks trying to keep his eye on her, but it is getting harder and hard for him to keep track of where she is.

“That’s why Ron always insists on working with Hermione. At least if he is working with her, then he knows where she is during the day,� she finished quietly, eyeing Harry cautiously for signs of any impending show of anger.

But Harry’s anger was gradually disappearing to be replaced by incomprehension.
He looked at Ginny in confusion, “But what, what is she doing up there? And why didn’t you tell me before now?� he asked.

Ginny shrugged again. “Now don’t start taking it out on me Harry. I didn’t want to be the cause of us having yet another argument so I didn’t say anything. It was between Ron and Hermione and wasn’t really my place to tell you about it.�

Harry had the good sense to look shame-faced at her comment about his anger but stayed silent and allowed Ginny to continue.

“Ron won’t really talk about it, Ginny continued, “when he first found Hermione up there a few weeks ago, he said she was sitting in front of a mirror in one of the bedrooms and seemed to be talking to someone. As soon as she spotted Ron she muttered something before turning on him, accusing him of not giving her any privacy. Well, you know how Ron feels about her. He was really upset with the things she said and tried to keep away from her after that.


“Soon afterwards Mum made it clear that none of us should ever venture to the third floor. She looked really worried about it. It’s the only place that Mum hasn’t made any attempt to sanitise so she thinks it’s best for us to stay away from there. Ron resolved there and then to make sure that Hermione wasn’t going to break that rule. It’s really hard on him. Hermione gives out to him constantly. But he is only doing it because he is worried about her. Hermione has really changed Harry, I feel like I don’t know her anymore,� Ginny said quietly.

“I know they have always argued about things, but this is different. Hermione says some really hurtful things. Ron is a big boy and well able to look after himself, but I know some of the things she says really hurt him. I don’t know if you have noticed Harry, but Ron rarely fights back anymore. He just lets Hermione vent her spleen and just gets on with it. If the roles were swapped and it were me, I don’t think I would be as generous, or as patient with Hermione,� Ginny finished bitterly.

Harry didn’t know what to make of all this. Hermione had never been a rule-breaker unless she deemed it absolutely necessary. He knew that she liked and respected Mrs. Weasley and would never normally go against her wishes or her rules. He felt he should go after the pair of them and give them a piece of his mind. But then again, he really didn’t feel up to a trip to the third floor. It was taking all his energy to stay away from there when he was asleep therefore he had no intention of going there willingly when awake.

“So what should I do Ginny? I can’t just pretend I don’t know that they are both breaking the rules that Mrs Weasley laid down. If there wasn’t any harm in it, I would probably keep quiet, but I get such a bad feeling up there. It’s like there is some resident evil lurking,� Harry said. Again the image of his Godfather in the library on the third floor came to him unbidden.


Ginny shivered involuntarily. “I know. The one and only time I have ever gone up there was that day that I followed you, and I had to force myself to do so even then.

“Harry, Ron is at his wits end with Hermione. Did you know that he had taken to sleeping outside our bedroom door? Hermione tried to slip out late one night to go up there and I told Ron. Since then he has taken to guarding the door at night to stop Hermione. Hermione was NOT happy with me when she found out that I had told on her to Ron,� Ginny grimaced at the memory.


A flash of understanding suddenly lit up Harry’s brain. So that’s where Ron was coming from when he caught him sneaking back into their room with a blanket in the early morning. ‘No wonder he is looking exhausted constantly,’ thought Harry.


“I still don’t know what to do Ginny, should I follow them? Make sure they are all right? They have been gone a good fifteen minutes by now,� he asked.

Ginny nodded “Yes, Ron is usually back a lot quicker than this. Lets give them anther fifteen minutes or so and if they are not back, we will both go up there,� she said.

Harry knew Ginny was more afraid of the third floor than he was and he appreciated the fact that she was willing to accompany him up there, despite her fear.

They sat together on the couch and waited, both lost in their own thoughts. “Can I ask you something Harry?� Ginny asked quietly. Harry knew immediately what the question was going to be. He nodded slowly.

“Why did you kiss me?� Ginny asked.

Harry looked surprised. He had somehow expected her to ask why he had pulled away from her and bolted downstairs as if a rampaging hippogriff was on his tail. He hadn’t considered that she might want to know why he had kissed her in the first place.

For a brief moment Harry seriously considered getting up and bolting downstairs again, wanting nothing more than to put some distance between himself and Ginny to avoid having to answer such awkward questions.

Ginny sat quietly waiting for a response. Harry could feel himself begin to blush and the room began to feel uncomfortably warm. He looked at Ginny, knowing that she deserved an answer and decided to just dive in and see what his brain came up with by way of an explanation.


“I don’t know Ginny, I honestly hadn’t thought about kissing you beforehand. I mean, I can’t say that I hadn’t noticed how you look. I’m a guy Ginny, and while short sighted, I’m definitely not blind to a good looking girl,� he said quietly. His face was now rosy and even Ginny had begun to blush.


“Despite all that though, I still don’t really know what came over me. I just felt…strange. I was attracted to you and while logically I knew it was best not to act on an impulse, unfortunately logic was failing me utterly. I was just attracted and found myself kissing you before I knew it. I’m sorry.�

“What are you apologising for Harry?� Ginny responded quickly, “I just wanted to hear it from your point of view. I’m happy to say that it matches pretty much how things happened from my point of view as well,� she said looking a little surprised at herself for being so forward.

Harry abandoned his perusal of the carpet to look at Ginny’s face to discern if she was telling the truth. She nodded at him, smiling slightly. “I didn’t plan on kissing you back. I was surprised but there was some crazy magnetism going on. I couldn’t seem to stop myself.� She said this in a low voice hardly believing that she was admitting this to her former crush, all the while remembering the feel of Harry’s lips on hers. She blushed again at the memory.

Harry found himself looking at Ginny. Watching the faint tinge of pink forming on her cheeks. His gaze dropped to her lips. Ginny could feel Harry’s stare and her breath caught in her throat. She suddenly realised just how close together they were sitting on the couch.

Her eyes strayed to his lips. It was happening again, and once again Ginny felt like someone else was in control of her, moving her ever closer to those lips.

Harry felt the intense attraction pulse through him as well, becoming suddenly very aware of the attractive girl sitting by his side. Ginny was just inches from him. He lowered his head towards her and just at the moment before their lips touched Harry realised what was going to happen when they did. That Flashback.

At the last second he turned his head slightly, feeling Ginny land a small but surprised kiss on his cheek.

He felt Ginny pull away from him and knew she was embarrassed by what had happened, but he had to try and explain.

He could still hear the blood thumping madly in his ears. He grabbed her hand as she made to stand, forcing her to resume her seat at his side.

“Ginny, wait,� Harry’s voice was low and deep. “I’m sorry. Look, I really wanted to kiss you. I really want to kiss you. But I can’t. Not right now anyway.� He raised a trembling hand to her lips, gently tracing their outline with his index finger. The crazy attraction he had felt was still there and it was taking all his will power not to grab her there and then and kiss her till they both ran out of oxygen.


Ginny seemed to be feeling the same way. Her eyes closed as she felt his finger on her lips. She kissed it lightly and moved away from Harry slightly. Once the connection broke, Harry felt his senses returning, but not before he had murmured, “You’re killing me Ginny. How am I supposed to concentrate on anything after that.�


Ginny laughed softly and said, “I don’t know what is going on with you Harry Potter. But something tells me that now is not the time to start digging around and trying to figure it out. You have been given a temporary reprieve. I will want a full explanation at some stage you know.�

Harry smiled, relieved that Ginny could be so reasonable in the face of what had just happened. She never ceased to surprise him and looking at her now, Harry started to realise that Ginny wasn’t just Ron’s little sister but had become his friend in her own right. She sat back on the couch quietly waiting for Ron to return and allowed Harry to lose himself in his thoughts again.

He thought back to the picture that was now stowed under his pillow. It seemed all the main protagonists, or at least those that he was close to, were represented there. He thought about each in turn, and what they meant to him.

Firstly, there was his mother and father; the people that had given him life and love for the first two years of his life. They were the people who had formed his early personality and for that he would be eternally grateful. Those formative years had ensured that the succeeding ten years of hardship he had endured at the hands of his relatives had not led him to become embittered with life. More importantly, they were the people who had given him protection through their sacrifice. That knowledge was a burden to Harry in some respects. He knew he needed to strive more than others to make his life a success, to defeat Voldemort, otherwise their sacrifice would have been in vain.


Harry then thought of sirius, the man who had survived many years at Azkaban in the sure and certain knowledge that he was the only surviving guardian that actually cared for Harry. He had survived in the knowledge that he was innocent, but knowing that his decision not to be secret keeper had ultimately led to the Potters discovery and murder. Harry knew that sirius suffered from the guilt of that decision ever since Lily and James had been killed. His knowledge of who the real traitor was had kept him alive as he sought to find a way to protect Harry and bring Peter Pettigrew to justice.

It was that desire to protect and be there for Harry that had ultimately led to his own death. Now Harry was the one carrying the burden of guilt of leading sirius to his death. Once again, he may not have been the one holding the wand that killed, but sirius would not have been on the receiving end of that wand if it hadn’t been for him.

Then there was Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Those three had been through it all with him over the past few years. They had gone as far down the road by his side as possible. They hadn’t had to face Voldemort directly, but it was their help that had given him the opportunity to rescue the Philosopher’s Stone in their first year, it was their help again that had led him to Ginny and Tom Riddle in second year, they had been there to help set sirius free in Third Year and had witnessed and helped him in his efforts in the Triwizard tournament during their Fourth Year.

All this had led up to the events in the Department of Mysteries, by which time Ginny had proved that she had just as much Gryffindor bravery in her as any of them had. Lately, Ginny had shown that she wasn’t just a Gryffindor, but a young woman with the ability to turn the head of Harry Potter!

And now here they were: facing into what would arguably be one of the most dangerous years of their young lives. When most sixteen year olds were trying to plan what to do after school, Harry and his friends were wondering if they would still be alive to see graduation.

Harry saw the distinct differences between his generation and the generation of his parents and the marauders. The generation of the marauders had never experienced a war before. They were young and talented and must still have held the belief that no matter what would happen they could and would, overcome it.

Harry and his friends on the other hand, had seen how the last war had turned out. They were the surviving products of that war. Harry had seen how easily people died, how being prepared did not even delay the inevitable.

In some respects Harry was better prepared for it than most. This, in reality was his second war. He had triumphed in the first. He had already been in a battle to the death even if he had not known it at the time.

Suddenly Harry remembered the inscription at the base of the Photo frame. ‘Circus Ultima’. Slowly like the pieces of some enormous jigsaw that up until now had been too big for him to take in the whole picture, Harry had a sudden, enlightening aerial view. He suddenly started to see things take shape.

‘Circus Ultima,’ he breathed the words almost to himself, enlightenment causing him to sit back in the couch in amazement. He needed to confirm that what he was thinking was accurate. “Ginny,� her murmured. “I need a Latin dictionary…do you know if there is one in this house?�


Ginny nodded slowly. “Yes, give me a moment, I’m pretty sure I came across one in the library downstairs.�

Harry nodded, barely aware of Ginny leaving the room. His mind was beginning to race, in that way when something that has been baffling you for some time is suddenly revealed. So many other thoughts and happenings reveal themselves to be connected in some way. Like collapsing dominos Harry began to piece the whole picture together.

Harry hadn’t even noticed Ginny return until he felt someone sit beside him and push a duty volume into his hands. Harry found his hands shook slightly as he opened the dusty dictionary – thumbing through the pages, he skipped quickly over descriptions of nouns starting with ‘S’ then ‘T’, until he found what he was looking for.

His suspicions confirmed, Harry sat back in the couch and closed his eyes with a sigh.


‘Circus Ultima’
Ultimatum – ‘The last thing’
Circus - ‘Circle’

Harry let the word form slowly in his mind.
The Final Circle.

The links began to form in Harry’s mind. Galloping through the thought process, Harry found himself picturing each person in the photo once again.

The Final Circle.

Then his mind skipped to what had seemed to be ‘random’ ravings of the Black portrait, those that everyone heard, and those that whispered to Harry whenever he passed up the stairs on his own.

He went through each in turn methodologically.
The night he had arrived, he had heard Mrs Black screaming blue murder “Traitors beware, the time has come for vengeance to fall sweetly. None will escape, none will be untouched. Those disloyal to the ancient pureblood ways will pay. It has already begun.�
Then he moved on to analysing the whispers he heard on the stairway.

“It has begun. The thoughts have been planted and those at the centre will be the first petals to fade and Die.�

The following day the voice had whispered: “It has begun. The pawns are in place. The petals begin to fall as summer fades�

In turn, Harry analysed each of these. There still wasn’t enough information. Something else was missing.

It was then that Harry remembered one important piece of information that he had been neglecting.

Sirius. Harry recalled what sirius had said to him in the nightmare. He stripped away all the other memories and was left with just the following:
“Full circle Harry….think about it. The wheel must come full circle. Would I have died had I never known you existed? Of course. Everlasting life isn’t an option for mere mortals. But would I have died as prematurely as I did? Unlikely. As I say you were haunting me before you were born. You had a direct influence on the path that my life took. And Yes, you had a direct influence on my life being taken from me.�

Full Circle. There it was again. It was a reference to the connections between the present and the past. Harry needed to look at it all again. He felt the answer was dancing just beyond his grip, if he could just analyse it all properly Harry felt sure that it would begin to fall into place.

Hermione was a better analyst than him. Harry tended to rush headlong into things without fully thinking it through. He needed Hermione’s help now. His head was trying but it was as if there were too many pieces of information to keep in place.

Concentrating on one piece meant that another moved from his view. Harry shook his head in frustration.

It was then that it came to him. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did.

In that terrible, blinding moment of clarity he realised the meaning of Circus Ultima. One by one, Harry went through the people gathered in the photograph. Lily and James – the catalyst in their death was Harry, through no fault of his own.
Sirius. Again, his closeness to Lily and James, led to his closeness to Harry. He was his Godfather. The one that was supposed to look after him should anything happen to Harry’s parents. He had done so, ultimately sacrificing his own life in the pursuit of saving Harry’s.

The raven haired girl was still a mystery so Harry moved on to dwell on his three friends.

Ron. Easily Harry’s best friend and always willing to plough into whatever trouble Harry found himself in to help. He had already been hurt in the Department of Mysteries, displaying just how far he would go to help Harry.
Now he was trying his best to help Hermione too, and not wanting to bother Harry with this problem, he was trying to do it on his own.

Ginny. Hermione’s only real girlfriend and Ron’s sister. She too had proved her mettle in the Department of Mysteries. She was loyal to a fault. She was obviously upset with Hermione’s change of character over the summer, and worried about Ron. She too was preoccupied trying to help Ron with Hermione, even if all she got for her efforts was a silent and angry Hermione.

She had listened to Harry, and tried to help him too. When the other’s had been distant and preoccupied, she had made time to talk to him and be there if he wanted to open up and talk to her.


Hermione. Ignoring what was currently happening with his friend, Harry thought back to all the things she had done for him. All the times she had helped him, without which he would have failed, been expelled, got injured or perhaps even died depending on the circumstances. She had been there with him through thick and thin.

And now, Harry didn’t seem to know her anymore. He didn’t understand what was going on in her mind. He was drifting further away from her, or was that the other way around?


Suddenly it all became all that much clearer. The Final Circle. But a Circle was by its very definition Infinite. “Unless the Circle was broken,� he whispered almost too himself.

He was the centre. He now realised that. All the people in the circle radiated from him. They were directly influenced by him. sirius’s words came back to him, “You were haunting me before you were born. You had a direct influence on the path that my life took. And yes, you had a direct influence on my life being taken from me.�

That circle of people had been directly influenced by Harry’s mere existence, and it was still happening. Ron, Ginny, Hermione had all risked so much, were still risking so much, just by the mere chance that it had been they that had bonded as friends.

But now the circle was to be broken. Harry felt a sweat break out at the back of his neck. He felt himself shudder. Harry had never been one to believe in premonitions, but at that moment he had seen clearly that the destruction of his life and the life of wizard-kind was but a moment away.

Not only that but he had also just seen the source of that destruction.

Hermione.

Harry jumped to his feet, the forgotten dictionary falling with a bang to the floor. Ginny looked startled at the sudden movement, but stood also, waiting for Harry to speak. She had watched the play of emotions across his face over the last ten minutes, had seen a final look of fear enter his eyes and found that her stomach had clenched nervously when she saw it.

She didn’t know what it was that Harry had suddenly realised, but she found that she didn’t really want to know.


Harry turned towards her anxiously, pulling both her hands into his and gazing into her eyes. “Ginny get downstairs and find your mother. She needs to get hold of Professor Lupin and your father as soon as possible. It will take too long to get hold of Dumbledore…the others will have to do. Hurry,� he said urgently.

With a final squeeze of her hands, Harry turned and was already at the door, pulling out his wand as he went. “Hurry Ginny, do it now. And DO NOT follow me upstairs. Stay with your mother until the others arrive,� he said shooting her one last look.

He shot out the door and Ginny heard him run to the end of the corridor and begin to climb the stairs to the third floor. She pulled herself out of her stupor and rang downstairs, almost tripping in her haste to find her mother.


Harry had slowed his pace somewhat as he neared the top of the stairs. His heart was once again hammering in his chest. Dark misgivings overwhelmed him as he stepped off the stairway, feeling malevolent eyes watch his every move from the darkness.

He looked up and down the corridor, listening for any sign of movement. There was none. Everything was eerily quiet. Slowly he tiptoed along the corridor, deliberately going in the opposite direction to the partly open door of the library he had visited a few days ago.

He was careful. Not wanting to make any sound, but feeling at the same time that the whole place had to be able to hear his hammering heart and was aware of his presence.

He came to the first door on the right, and slowly pushed it open, wand at the ready. The room was empty and bare except for a few items of furniture, covered in plastic. As quietly as possible, Harry closed the door and moved on.

The first door he came to on his left, led to a large chamber containing a large bed and various pieces of furniture. It had a lived in appearance but was dusty as though it hadn’t been used in some time. Harry slowly realised whose room it was. This had been Sirius’s bedroom. The bed was neatly made, some clothes still lay folder on a chair at the foot of the bed. If it weren’t for the layer of dust covering every surface, one would have thought Sirius had merely left his room as normal that morning and would return to it at sometime that night. Harry could see a photo frame on the bedside locker. He didn’t have to get close to it to know that contained within it was a picture of the Marauders.

A smaller photo caught his eye. It was Sirius and the Raven-haired girl. This surprised Harry. He found himself watching their movements as he stood in the middle of the floor, momentarily forgetting where he was.

Eventually he dragged himself from his stupor, moving from the room and gently closing the door. Once back in the hallway, Harry’s anxiety increased. The remaining door on the right of the corridor was firmly closed. Harry listened with bated breath and then he heard it.

It was a faint moan and it was definitely emitting from the other side of the door. Wand at the ready, Harry turned the handle and opened the door. Still standing in the hallway, he waited for his eyes to get accustomed to the sudden light that poured from the open doorway. He found himself gazing at a large bedroom, and there directly in front of him was Hermione. She sat before a large ornate mirror and seemed entranced by what she saw there.


She didn’t even seem to hear Harry enter, so engrossed was she in the mirror before her. Harry slowly started to approach her, lowering his wand slightly as he went, but as soon as he crossed the threshold, he felt a blanket of cold sweep over him, almost knocking him to the ground.

He struggled to take a breath of air in the sudden cold, feeling light headed. It was then that he realised what else resided in the room as he heard the slow rattling breath.

Dementors. Harry had faced them before, but never had he felt them affect him this badly, not since that time on the train when he had first encountered them. He managed to turn away from Hermione and face them.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. There, behind the door that he had just entered lay a very white, very still Ron.

Three Dementors hovered around him, one was stooping over, its claw like hands grasping Ron’s wrist. Harry could feel the air leaving his lungs.

He couldn’t even hope. Ron had been there with Dementors and without a wand. Had they already removed his soul? He glanced back at Hermione, barely managing to hold his consciousness. He saw her wand lying idly on the dresser top. Why wasn’t she trying to help Ron?

She didn’t seem to notice his presence. Harry felt darkness threaten to overtake him as he watched Hermione stand and slowly raised her hand to the surface of the mirror. A feeling of anticipation crept over Harry, it was an emotion that he knew was not coming from him but from Voldemort.

A deep feeling of dread overwhelmed him as he watched. He had fallen to his knees in weakness moments before. But now fought with all his might to get to Hermione. He felt the Dementors pause, watching her also and knew that they were all on the brink of witnessing something terrible that was about to happen. He dragged himself across the room, using the last of his energy to rise to his feet and slam straight into Hermione knocking her from her stool to the ground seconds before her hand made contact with the glass.

He pulled out his wand and muttered the spell for the full body bind before Hermione could react. He watched her lie still and straight on the ground before turning his attention to the Dementors.

His actions seemed to have angered them. The turned towards him moving away from Ron, towering over him and their slow rattling breaths gradually pulled away all happy memories from Harry’s mind.

He tried to prepare himself for what he knew he would see, Sirius’s death being the worst memory of his young life thus far, but felt himself reel in shock when, instead, he heard Sirius’s cold insistent voice in his head “I suppose you want me to tell you that it was all meant to be. My premature death, the death of your parents… Is that what you want Harry, Is it? One final reassurance from beyond the grave? Oh yes Harry, because I am beyond. I haven’t been miraculously restored to life or anything. It seems to me that it is you who have been haunting me all these years. Haunting me, and eventually leading me to death as I sought to protect you. How misguided was that.
Harry shook his head and tried to focus “Expecto…� . You feel responsible for my death, despite what everyone said. You probably need to me tell you that it’s not your fault, but I cannot lie that easily."

He faltered, his mind overwhelmed with guilt and hurt, the cold seemed to invade his body even more. “ “Expecto Patronum,� “ Harry said again. But he words were weak and Harry could barely discern the wisp of silver that left his shaking wand. “…leading to my death as I sought to protect you�

Harry shook his head again feeling himself teeter on the edge of unconsciousness “Expecto Patronum,� he murmered, catching sight of Ron’s body. Ron, who would have done anything for him. Ron, who may not have lost his soul to the Dementors yet, his first and truest friend.

Harry felt his eyes darken. He could no longer see, but then a vision came to him unbidden. The vision of Ron’s reaction after Harry had defeated the Hungarian Horntail was burning in his memory. The vision of Ron trying to ask for his forgiveness after they had fallen out when Harry’s name had been pulled from the Goblet of Fire. He closed his eyes tighter and raising his wand shouted aloud, “EXPECTO PATRONUM.� In the gathering darkness of his mind he felt the blinding light of Prongs as it burst forth from his wand.

Then he fell back to the ground with a thud, the last vestiges of energy leaving him as a fathomless darkness took hold. His eyes rolled back and Harry knew no more.

The blanket darkness did not frighten Harry. It did not awaken in him the desire to fight it. Gentle sounds rolled over him like a light breeze, barely penetrating his consciousness, never even getting close to pulling his addled brain into the light.

He couldn’t think. He found that he did not even find this remotely disturbing. For now he had no other wish other than keeping his eyes closed and allowing his mind to remain blissfully blank.


He had no idea how long he had been like this, caught somewhere between sleeping and waking, but unable to give himself fully to either state. No feelings, no emotions or worries coursed through him. He just couldn’t think.

“Why isn’t he waking?� a shuddering voice whispered in the corridor. “Why?�

“He has been unresponsive since he arrived here Mr Lupin,� came the quiet, calm reply from the Healer.

“But he is breathing on his own,� Lupin persisted, “his heart, his lungs – they are all functioning and sometimes his eyes seem to open slightly but they don’t seem to see anything... What is your diagnosis?�

Slowly the Healer shook his head, taking in the worn appearance of Remus. “He was exposed too long, far too long. He had already been pushed to the edge of consciousness by the Dementor attack before he managed to repel them. This would not normally be life threatening, but I fear that his condition may have something to do with whatever memory the Dementors took hold of as his worst. He seems to be catatonic. All we can do for now is hope.�

Lupin sank into a chair, finally letting his trembling legs give up the battle of supporting him.

He thought back to the events of the day still feeling shocked and horrified by what had occurred. He had gotten quite a shock when Molly had Apparated right beside him, grabbing him without explanation and transporting them both back to Grimmauld Place. Mr Weasley had Apparated there milliseconds beforehand.

Mrs Weasley had immediately cast her worried eyes around the kitchen and began calling for Ginny. Lupin couldn’t understand what was wrong. Mr Weasley, it seemed didn’t have a full picture of what the problem was either. It was then that they heard it, the high-pitched and anguished scream of Ginny Weasley.

Taking the stairs two at a time Lupin charged to the third floor, the Weasleys at his heels. He tore down the corridor following the sounds of anguished sobbing.


He froze at the doorway, his heart seeming to stop at the sight before him. He tried to take it in, but simply couldn’t. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione lying still and straight, staring straight ahead still caught in the full body bind. He could see Ron lying behind the door, his arms wrapped around his head protectively.

And there in the middle of the floor sat Ginny Weasley cradling the head of a pale and staring Harry Potter.

In seconds he was on his knees beside the pair, tears glistened on Harry’s face where they had fallen from Ginny’s eyes. She clutched him tightly to her and rocked gently, the eerie and anguished sobs still issuing from her throat.


Harry’s wand lay nearby, discarded.

Lupin had tried to pull himself together. What he was seeing could not be right. It just couldn’t be. He reached out and touched Harry’s face. It felt cold like marble.

And then Lupin felt it. It was just the mere whisper of a breath passing Harry’s lips, but it was enough to allow him to hope. He physically pulled Harry into his arms, away from Ginny and roared at Mr Weasley to help.

Within moments Ron and Harry were in the confines of St Mungos, Mrs Weasley arrived moments later with Hermione and Ginny. Dumbledore was there to meet them, his face grave.


As soon as the Healers had begun to examine Harry, Dumbledore turned to Hermione and said, “Miss Granger, we need to talk.� Hermione looked frightened. She protested at first, wanting to know how Ron was, how Harry was doing, but Dumbledore would not heed arguments. He swept down the corridor to a private room, beckoning her to follow while the others sat in wait.


Entering the room in Dumbledore’s wake Hermione meekly sat in a chair, her eyes downcast, studying her nails.

Dumbledore paced for a moment, as if trying to calm his mixed emotions. Eventually he came to stop directly in front of Hermione. “Do you want to explain what has been going on in Grimmauld Place?� he asked.

For a moment Hermione thought of trying to deflect the question. Just for a moment though. For once she raised her face and looked in Dumbledore’s eyes she knew without question that if she did, he would not hesitate in using his legilimency skills to discern the truth. She knew that her only hope of redemption now was to explain. Yet, words failed her. She didn’t seem to know where to begin.

Dumbledore sighed audibly. Hermione had never seen him with so little patience. “Do you want to start at the beginning, or move straight to the point at which you found yourself about to reveal the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix to Lord Voldemort, Miss Granger?� he asked.

Hermione quaked and quickly looked away, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“I never intended on…. I never intended on revealing anything. You’ve got to believe me. I don’t know what came over me. I feel like I have been walking around in a daze for this past three weeks,� she said in a shaking voice.

“And yet you knew you were doing wrong. You must have suspected as much, knowing the lengths that Ron went to in order to try and keep an eye on you. Look, I think it best that you start at the beginning. Time is short but I think we need the full story before we proceed. If you like I can help,� he added gently.

Hermione knew what Dumbledore meant – she could just let him read her mind to discover the details, rather than have to go through the humiliation of talking about it.

Hermione shook her head. “Thank you Professor, but I would rather tell you about it,� she said. Dumbledore nodded. He knew what an effort it would take for Hermione but was glad that she had not taken the easier path.

Hermione took a deep breath and began her story.


“As soon as I arrived in Grimmauld Place, I felt a change in the atmosphere. I don’t know how to explain it really. It just felt like there was a much greater sense of foreboding and general malevolence that any of the previous times I have visited there. I couldn’t understand why – Mrs Weasley had made great strides in making the place more habitable, but there just didn’t seem to be any way to shake the gloomy atmosphere that seemed to take hold in the house.

“I threw myself into work at first, helping Mrs Weasley, Ron and Ginny. There was a lot to do, so I ended up working on my own a lot. I didn’t really mind. After the initial uneasiness of the atmosphere in the house, I seemed to get over it and just get on with the job. It was around then that I first ventured up to the third floor.�

Hermione stood and began to pace around the room, her face frowned in worry, twirling a curl absently between her fingers. “I still don’t know why I did. I mean I already knew that it was forbidden and you know I’m not one to break rules lightly Professor. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. It happened one day when I was about to join the others for a break in the kitchen, I was wandering past the stairway on the second floor, when I guess curiosity got the better of me and I went up.


“At first all I did was quickly open each room door and have a glance inside. There was a library up there, which I was a little fascinated with and resolved to go back to in order to look through the books. I came across a bedroom – it must have been sirius’s. I remember seeing some photos by his bed. When I came to one of the last rooms on the corridor I found it to be bright and cheery, so different from any of the others. The room was relatively empty and I walked over to the window to look outside.


“When I did, I could hardly believe my eyes. I was looking out into this beautiful garden, with trees and shrubs and a little pond at the far end of it. I had been cooped up in Grimmauld Place continually and couldn’t help but stand and stare at it. I wondered why we couldn’t access the garden from downstairs. It did look like it was part of Number Twelve but I knew there was no back door opening on to it.

“Looking out there was like looking from a negative onto its coloured photograph. There was none of the darkness or worry that seemed to invade Grimmauld Place present in that Garden. I couldn’t help just stand and stare at it. I was amazed, I suppose. Amazed that something so beautiful could be accessible from some place so tortured and sad.

“I realised that the only way one could access the garden – was through looking at it from this window. It may not have been the same as actually being outside, but was such a relief from the oppressive darkness that permeated the rest of the house, that I resolved to keep the discovery to myself. It would be my place to come and visit when I needed a release. I felt I wasn’t doing any harm. I hadn’t touched anything and there didn’t seem to be anything dangerous in that particular room anyway.



“I eventually went downstairs not realising that I had spent hours up there staring out the window. Ron was curious as to where I had been, and a little worried when I didn’t seem to want to give him a straight answer. I told him to stop bothering me, I accused him of being a prat and that seemed to shut him up. I knew I had hurt his feelings but that room was too important to me. I couldn’t let him come between me and it.�



“And so as the days went on, I would find myself more and more drawn to the third floor. I found I couldn’t concentrate on my work anymore. I would slip up there as often as possible to gaze out the window. By now, there was something else in the room that had attracted my attention. It was the mirror.�

Hermione shivered involuntarily, running a hand up and down her arm to dispel the goose bumps.

“It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it during my earlier trips to the room, but I supposed I had just overlooked it in my haste to catch a glimpse at my little part of heaven outside the window. There was nothing so unusual about it after all. It was just an old Mirror attached to the top of an equally old and dusty dressing table. I had passed it day after day on my way into and out of the room and had never even spared it a glance.

“I still don’t even know what made be look at it. After all one could hardly see oneself in it with the layer of dust and cobwebs, but one day I glanced at it when leaving the room. Ron was on the second floor yelling for me because I was supposed to be helping him. I just glanced at it, and almost fainted with fright. I was looking straight into the eyes of sirius Black.�

Dumbledore raised his head quickly when he heard this, but motioned Hermione to continue with a nod of his head.

“I thought I was dreaming at first, but then he smiled at me, and waved. I wanted to run and tell Ron to come quickly. I needed someone else to confirm what I was seeing. But then he started speaking.

“He told me that he hadn’t really died, but that he was in another place and was trying desperately to return to Harry. He said he couldn’t do it by himself, that he needed the help of another. He talked a lot like that. He didn’t directly ask for my help, but instead just told me of what he was going through.


“I knew how grieved Harry was by his death, and all I could think about was the fact that Harry would be able to see him in this mirror once he got to Grimmauld Place. When I said this to sirius however, he looked saddened and told me that Harry wouldn’t be able to see him; he told me that I was the only one who could. I had somehow stumbled across a link from our world to his and was the only one who could help him to try and find his way back.


“He was very insistent on me not telling anyone else about it. He said he feared the link would be broken if others knew about it. He told me he didn’t know how it was working in the first place and so couldn’t risk the link being lost. I agreed. I don’t know why now, but I did. I didn’t want to risk this one chance of giving Harry back his Godfather. All I could think about was Harry and how much easier his life would be with sirius by his side. He asked me to come and talk to him everyday, to see if we could work out how to get him back and I agreed.

“Ron, at this stage was very suspicious. Ginny was annoyed with me for leaving the work that we were supposed to be sharing for her to do on her own. That was when Ron started insisting that he work with me directly. He had found me coming downstairs from the third floor one day and we had a massive row about it. I refused to tell him what I was doing up there. I’m afraid I said a lot of very hurtful things to him. Things I would NEVER normally say in the heat of an argument. Things I would never ever have said to Ron,� Hermione finished quietly almost to her self.


“He didn’t try to talk to me much after that. He just continued to insist that we work together and so limited the times that I could sneak up to the mirror on the third floor. By now, it wasn’t the garden that attracted me there anymore.


“Sirius had told me of a book that could help. It was a book of dark magic that was in the library on the third floor. My instincts told me that I shouldn’t use it or look at it, but it was as if I was compelled to do so. I seemed to have no free will. I got the book and noted some of the spells that he had mentioned in my diary. He had told me that I would have to study them, would have to believe in the words, give myself totally to them in order for the spell to be successful.�

Dumbldore watched Hermione kindly as she told her story. He could sense how much it was costing her to admit what she had done. He could tell that she would find it hard if not impossible to forgive herself. However, he maintained his silence, judging it best that Hermione get to tell her story as quickly as possible.

“On the day that Harry arrived, Ron had gone to my room to look for me,� Hermione continued. “He had found my diary and when I walked in, he was sitting on the bed with it in his hands. I didn’t know whether he had found the spells or not, but decided that defence was the best form of attack and so I accused him of reading something that was private. I told him I would never trust him again. I said a lot of other things that I don’t remember now. I would not listen to him when he tried to explain that he thought it was just a homework diary. After all, there was no name on it and nothing that would have denoted it to be a diary. But I wouldn’t listen.�

Hermione stopped and shook her head, thinking about all that she had said and done. And now Ron was injured, possibly soul-less after his encounter with the Dementors.
Dumbledore coughed gently, “I know its difficult Miss Granger, but you are nearly at the end of the story. Please continue if you can.�

Hermione took a deep breath and ploughed on.

“I found that I couldn’t really talk to Harry. Things had changed. I was obsessed with getting the magic to work so that sirius would return. But now it wasn’t really about sirius anymore. It was the mirror. It provided a link that I was desperate to open. I still am not even sure why.


“This morning, I felt different when I awoke. I just knew that I was ready, that the time had come to try out the spell. In the afternoon I slipped out of the room that Harry and Ginny were working in and made my way upstairs. I felt like I was in a trance. I got to the room and sat in front of the mirror. There was sirius, but it didn’t really look like the sirius that we knew. His eyes were hard and cold, as was his voice. He told me to maintain eye contact with him while I gained the strength to utter to spell. He told me it would take some time, and that I just needed to concentrate.

“I felt as if time had stood still, all I could see were sirius’s eyes and I felt a certain strength enter me. I remember vaguely hearing a muffled voice. But it was like a sound coming from underwater. It was neither clear nor discernable. I felt a hand on my shoulder and was about to break eye contact to look around when sirius shouted at me not to do so.


“I felt the hand move from my shoulder and could feel the temperature in the room drop. That must have been when the Dementors arrived. I couldn’t see them but had a feeling that I had given them access through the connection in the mirror.

“The strength continued to flow through me and as if by its own volition, my hand began to move towards the glass, I could hear the words of the spell being spoken in my mind but it didn’t sound like my voice. I could see sirius lips moving but the voice didn’t sound like his either.

“It was then, just as I was about to make contact with the mirror and complete the link, that Harry knocked me to the ground. I could feel this terrible anger build up inside of me. It was like it belonged to someone else. I tried to get up, to get back to the mirror but Harry cast the body bind spell on me.


“I could hear him try and utter the spell to issue a Patronus, but he was having difficulty. He tried repeatedly. I could see him crouched on the ground holding his head in his hands out of the corner of my eye. Then he seemed to see Ron lying there and from his knees he gasped out the spell and I could see the burst of light erupt.

“The room temperature started returning to normal and I could feel the anger leaving me suddenly. It was only then that I felt like I was back in my own body, my own mind. It was as if I had been lifted from a trance. And all I could do was wonder what the hell I had just done.�


By now, Hermione’s face was tear-streaked. She was sitting beside Dumbledore once again, her head in her hands.

He slowly nodded and placing a hand on her shoulder, she heard him mutter an incantation. Hermione felt at peace suddenly. Like a warm blanket had been placed around her chilled and exposed emotions.

“You did well Miss Granger. Had it being a weaker individual, Lord Voldemort might have managed to make you complete the incantation much earlier. In which case he would already have been in the in headquarters where Harry arrived. He would have been ready to fight a young and broken boy who would not have been able to put up much of a battle. Instead in you he found a witch that he knew he would have to take his time to convince that it really was sirius Black you were talking to.�

Dumbledore nodded slowly at her stunned reaction. “Yes Hermione. It was Voldemort that you have been conversing with. sirius’s death left a powerful void in you and in everyone who had known and loved him. In Grimmauld Place this void was felt most strongly. It affected everyone who went to the house. The dark and gloomy atmosphere was the physical manifestation of the death of the final person in the bloodline of the noble Black family.

“Unfortunately, his death seemed to open a portal to another realm where his, shall we say less-charitable relatives dwell. Lord Voldemort became aware of this. He gained an understanding of the black magic that was used to protect the house originally, black magic that he could turn to suit his own needs. While he knew he couldn’t enter the headquarters even if he should know its location due to the wards that surround it as well as the protection that was bestowed through the death of sirius, he began to realise that it could be entered directly through the portal, as long as someone already at the headquarters spoke the spell and opened the link by touching the mirror.�

“Professor – Why would sirius’s death have prevented him from entering the headquarters?� Hermione asked.

“A bond of love Hermione. sirius died in an attempt to save Harry. He died thinking only of Harry. It is not the same as the bond that was formed between Harry and his mother, in that it wouldn’t protect Harry directly, however it is powerful enough to bestow protection to sirius’s house which is now Harry’s.�


Hermione nodded her head. She felt weak and exhausted from her ordeal of having to tell Dumbledore about everything. She still couldn’t believe what she had done, and done of her own free will by all accounts.

Dumbledore chuckled slightly, shaking his head “Your own free will? Not at all Miss Granger. As you said – you felt you were in a trance. I believe that on you first seeing sirius in the mirror you gazed into his eyes and were enchanted with a spell that would ensure that while you still needed to be convinced of what you were seeing, once you were sure that this was indeed sirius, you would feel honour bound to help him,� he finished. Hermione blinked taking in what Dumbledore was saying, aware that he had just read her mind.


“You need to rest now Ms Granger. I need to get back to Harry and Ron and see how they are doing,� he said.

“Professor, will they be alright?� she asked timidly, almost afraid of the answer.

Dumbledore stood surveying the carpet at his feet. He sighed deeply again. “One can only hope Miss Granger. One can only hope.�

Lupin sat motionless in the hospital. He had his hands joined on his knees, head lowered. He willed, he hoped and prayed for Harry to survive. He felt someone drop into the chair at his side and pull one of his hands into hers. It was Tonks. She intertwined her fingers with his, leaned close and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and proceeded to wait also.


Dumbledore appeared on the corridor emerging from Harry’s room, deep in discussion with the Head Healer. His face was lined with worry. Lupin didn’t like that look.

He approached the waiting group and seemed to be trying to think of the best way of phrasing what he needed to say. When he did finally begin to speak, his words were heavy and spoken slowly.

“Harry is still critical. It has been hours since the attack and he is still showing no signs of cognitive ability. The healers tell me that they can discern no physical injury. Mentally, it would appear that his brain is still functioning. They are worried that he does not seem to be responding to light. He shows fierce resistance to opening his eyes and when he does, his pupils do not appear to react normally. He has not attempted speech and while they believe he can hear what is going on, even this, they are unsure about. They fear that emotionally, he has been injured to such a degree that his senses have simply shut down.


“They do not know if this condition is reversible or not at present,� Dumbledore finished quietly, his eyes sweeping the assembled group. He watched their faces as what he had said began to settle in their senses.

He understood their feelings, his being the same. He didn’t know what other hope to offer them. He knew they were hurting for their friend. So was he. But he also had the greater burden of worry. The only chance the wizarding world had of defeating Voldemort was lying in a state close to death. It was cataclysmic. Dumbledore watched the group knowing that Harry’s death would inevitably lead to the deaths of all gathered there, including him. But he did not burden them with this thought at that time.

Lupin’s hands were shaking. He had tried to still them repeatedly, but couldn’t master the shakes that spread up from his arms. Tonks was still holding his hand tightly but he didn’t even seem to notice. She too was shaking. She struggled to gather her thoughts but seemed unable to. She suddenly felt very young. Too young to be sitting here listening to the diagnosis of one who was so much younger than even she was.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had quietly left the group to be with Ron. He had begun to wake up. While he was extremely weak and still in need of medical attention, it had been a huge relief to all concerned that he still possessed his soul. They stood looking down at their pale son lying sleeping.


“If he hadn’t got there on time,� Molly mumbled. “If Harry hadn’t got there on time Arthur. I can’t even imagine. How would I have coped? How would any of us have survived without Ron?�

Arthur placed his arm around this wife’s shoulders nodding slowly. ‘How will any of us survive without Harry,’ he thought silently.


Ginny hadn’t moved. From the moment she had arrived at the hospital with her mother and Hermione, she hadn’t moved. Hermione had been whisked off after some whispered words between Mrs Weasley and a Healer to be checked over.

Ginny had sunk to the ground outside the door that she had seen Harry disappear through. Lupin had still carried him in his arms even though Harry was almost as tall as he was now. He hadn’t seemed to want to let go even when the healers told them that they would take over. Then he had wandered out looking lost and taken a seat beside where Ginny sat on the floor. He had dropped a hand to her shoulder and let it rest there. She had raised her hand and placed it in his. They had sat in silence.


Now Dumbledore had finished speaking. Any hope that they had held for Harry had seemed to dissipate. Harry was still alive but as Ginny slowly scanned the faces of those sitting and standing around her, she saw the hope slip away like water through one’s fingers.

Harry was still alive. He was alive.


Her brained kept repeating the words. Any time she found her memory wandering back to what had happened on the third floor, the words reverberated again, pushing away the memories. Harry is still alive.

It had felt like she was watching someone else. In fact it had felt like everything in the last few hours had happened to someone else. She remembered her mother disapparating to fetch her father and Remus. She remembered her mother warning her not to leave the kitchen.

She remembered taking her wand and beginning the frightening journey alone to the third floor.

She remembered the anguished whisper she had heard as she approached the open door and the blinding flash of light “Expecto Patronum� She remembered the feeling of fear when she realised that she had just heard the spell summon a Patronus to banish Dementors.

She had stood at the open door watching Harry collapse to the floor, his glazed expressionless eyes gazing at the ceiling, his wand falling useless by his side.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut to dispel the image and mentally shook herself. Harry is still alive.

Ron lay on his bed on the quiet ward in St. Mungo’s, staring at the ceiling. Mrs Weasley, finally convinced that Ron had drifted off to sleep had been persuaded by her husband to leave his side and get some rest.

As soon as Ron had heard the door open and close, and had taken a moment to listen and ensure that he was indeed alone, he opened his eyes once again and continued staring at the ceiling.

His body felt tired and achy, his mind, weary from the prolonged attack of the Dementors. He thought back to the events of the day and once again cursed his stupidity in following Hermione without first retrieving his wand from his bedroom.

He found it hard to let his mind wander to Hermione. Every time he did so, he found that he no longer pictured his friend of the last five years, nor did he picture the girl that he admittedly had a large crush on; instead the enduring image of Hermione that came to mind was of her sitting, staring at that mirror, her wand lying idle in her hand as he had begged for her help when the Dementors had attacked.

She hadn’t even looked around. It might have been easier for him to assume that she was unaware of his presence. At least that way he could have forgiven her for not coming to his aid. Unfortunately, Ron knew differently.

Ron remembered walking into the room. He had stood watching Hermione silently for a moment, he hair rising on the back of his neck. She sounded different. He could see that she was talking, but the voice he heard did not sound like the Hermione he knew, and there was no one in the room but him so who was she talking to?

He had approached her slowly and cautiously, had placed his hand on her shoulder to make her aware of his presence.

“Hermione?�

She hadn’t even blinked. She hadn’t acknowledged his presence and seemed even more taken with the image in the mirror. She whispered something urgently and quickly glanced around at Ron before raising her wand and saying an incantation.

Ron hard hardly even registered what she had done when already he felt the cold begin to penetrate his body and began to hear the unmistakable rattling breath of the Dementors. He wasn’t even sure how they had entered the room. Suddenly they were there, standing near Hermione but she had seemed strangely unaffected by them.

Too late, Ron realised he had no wand, no protection whatsoever. He tried to call out but found his voice strangely muffled. He backed away toward the rear of the room, all the while trying to call to Hermione.


He could see her wand. He could see it just lying there idly. Once again she was entranced in whatever it was she was seeing in the mirror. He tried to move forward towards her but the Dementors now occupied the space between them. He felt the cold and emptiness begin to envelope him and fell to his knees. In the back of his mind her remembered Harry telling him of the attack that he and Dudley had suffered and had raised his arms around his head, attempting to cover his face.

He had felt them draw closer, had used the very last of his energy to call out to Hermione one last time, before his eyes had closed and darkness had taken hold of him.

Ron sighed and rolled over on to his side. He didn’t want that to be his abiding memory of Hermione. It was as if every original, happy memory of her that he had cherished had been wiped away.

His mother and father had filled him in on everything that had happened after he had passed out. They had not blamed Hermione. They told him that they not know the full facts yet but that Dumbledore had told them enough to make it clear that Hermione had not been acting of her own free will.


So why was Ron finding it so hard to forgive her and move on?

He shook his head slowly and sighed again. He knew why. It was because he liked her, not only that but he realised that he had liked her for a long, long time. Almost since her had first met her. Without ever saying it, Ron knew that he would have done virtually anything for Hermione. He had realised recently that it had always been that way, he just hadn’t ever thought about it before.

That was why it had hurt him so much to see her sitting there ignoring the danger he was in, not moving a muscle to help him. It was something that Ron couldn’t forget that easily.

Deep within him, his heart defied logic and reason, and Ron knew, that in his heart, he never could blame her for what had happened. His heart knew Hermione would not have left him at the mercy of Dementors, not if she could have helped it. Ron just needed time to accept what his heart already knew.

Ron closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind and get some sleep. The sleeping potion the healer had suggested he take lay untouched on the bedside table. Ron knew it was just delaying thinking about everything that happened. He wanted to try and make it through the night without that kind of help.

Hermione had awoken from an uneasy and fretful sleep to find herself in a bed on a darkened ward of a hospital. For a moment she hoped that everything that had happened had been a bad dream, but one glance around her confirmed that it had indeed been reality. She felt disorientated. A glance at her watch told her that it was the early hours of the morning. She felt surprised that she had slept so long.

She quietly crept out of bed and felt around for her shoes. She was still fully dressed, and slipping on her shoes, she crept out into the slumbering hospital ward.

Slowly Hermione made her way along, unsure at first whether she was going in the right direction. Up ahead she heard the distant rumble of voices and followed the sound.

She slowed her pace as she neared the group, taking in their slumped posture and general dejection. Lupin still sat unmoving, Tonks had fallen asleep, stretched out on two chairs beside Remus, her head on his lap. She still held one of his hands in hers while she slept. Remus gently stroked her long brunette hair with his free hand as his eyes gazed in an unfocused blur at the door opposite him.

Hermione could see the top of Ginny’s ginger head at the side of Remus’s chair. She still sat curled up on the ground, but now wore Hagrid’s large fur coat wrapped around her like a blanket.

Hermione could just discern the shapes of Mr and Mrs Weasley moving quietly down the corridor into the cafeteria. She felt the lump growing in her throat as she watched them all silently. She didn’t need to be told how Harry was doing – it was obvious.

She felt her stomach clench as she thought of Ron. Dumbledore hadn’t been able to give her any reassurance as to his condition either. She was afraid to speak to anyone, to ask how Ron was doing. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they had shouted at her, had asked her to leave. It was all her fault after all.

Quietly she tiptoed past the group towards the Healer’s station. Remus and the others didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, chose not to show it.

She quickly asked one of the healers how Ron Weasley was doing and what room he was in. She felt relief flood through her when the Healer told her that the Dementors had not performed the kiss, but felt her senses plummet again when they told her that Ron still silent and not very responsive. Seeing her worried face, the healer kindly reassured her that they were doing all they could and that they were hopeful that he would make a full recovery. Harry on the other hand…well that was a different matter.

Hermione left the healer’s station and slowly made her way back up the corridor. The healer had told her which room Ron was in but had warned her that he was not to be disturbed. Hermione felt compelled to see him.

Despite what the healer had said, she couldn’t rest until she saw Ron and knew that he was okay.

She quietly tiptoed to the room and after quickly checking that there was no Healer nearby, opened the door and tiptoed inside.

Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, Hermione could hear the quickened breathing of one of the patients in the room. As her eyes adjusted she noticed that the room housed two patients and that the bed nearest the door was empty. She slowly tiptoed towards the other bed in the room.

As she got closer, she discerned the shape of someone restlessly tossing about in their sleep. A strip of moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, falling on Ron’s pale face, glistening with perspiration.

Hermione found her breath catching in her throat as she looked at him. His eyes were scrunched up, even though he was asleep as if he was vainly trying to fight off some terrible happening in his subconscious. He groaned, flinging his arm over his sweating face, his breath coming in short bursts.

Hermione crept closer, her eyes filling with tears as she watched Ron struggle with his nightmare. She felt utterly helpless and completely responsible.

She heard him groan again and whisper something, she crept even closer to his bed so that she was leaning over him, trying to make out what he was saying. She nearly cried out when she realised he was whispering her name. He was whispering her name and begging for help.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, attempting to crush any sound as the tears began to flow from her eyes in torrents.

“No, get away from me. Hermione please do something. I… I have no wand….I can’t fight them NO!�

Ron jerked upright in the bed, panting as if he had been running a race, sweat dripping from his long hair into his eyes. He stared straight ahead, trying to get control of his racing heart, trying to convince himself that it was just a nightmare. He felt someone else in the room and looked to his left, to see Hermione, her hands covering her mouth as tears streamed silently down her face.


It was instinctive. Before his brain had even fully separated itself from his dream state, Ron had reached out pulling Hermione down onto the bed and into his arms.

He buried his head on her shoulder, his hand lost in her thick tresses of hair at her neck, and felt her break down completely and cry as she held on to him as though her life depended on that contact.

It lasted for no more than ten minutes. He felt her begin to calm, her racking sobs began to ease. He pulled away from her slightly bringing both hands to the sides of her face so that he could clearly study her, could look directly into her eyes.

She stared back into his eyes without moving, willing him to see the remorse she felt at what had happened. She felt the urge to lean in and kiss him, but knew that would be crossing a boundary. She loved the feeling of his fingers on her skin and wished it would never end.

Slowly, Ron let her go, pushing her slightly so that their bodies were no longer in contact. With one last look at her, he lay down again, and turned away from her.

Hermione was stricken.. Staring at Ron’s unresponsive back, she realised that she had no option but to turn and leave. She also understood that she hadn’t been forgiven and began to face the awful truth that Ron might never be able to forgive her.

“I’m Sorry Ron,� she whispered, as she turned and left.

The scene swam before him, sometimes blurred at the edges and slightly distorted, at other times nothing more than a mass of intermingled colours, from which his addled mind refused to process into a recognisable picture.

Harry could discern that people were sometimes present at his side. He could vaguely hear people speak to him, but the voices were distant and still his mind wasn’t even trying to identify them for him. On the days when his vision was less blurry, Harry recognised the folds of a curtain surrounding his bed. He would vainly try to take in his surroundings, but his moments of lucidity were much too brief. All too soon his eyes would begin to close and he would let the darkness take him again.

The darkness provided Harry with little respite. His spirit didn’t try to fight the images that came to him unbidden when his eyes were closed. Images of a dead Sirius returning to him to confirm his worst fears; that he had indeed been solely responsible for Sirius’s death.

For that was Harry’s torment, to relive over and over again the return of Sirius to accuse him of leading him to his premature death.

Despite all that Harry had suffered in his young life so far, the death of his parents, the lack of any close relative to love him, the death of his godfather; it was Sirius’s accusations that were what made up his worst living memory.

Having blamed himself over the summer for Sirius’s untimely demise, he would never have imagined that he would have felt so utterly devastated to have that blame confirmed by the ghost of his godfather.

Harry’s spirit was broken. Closing his eyes and giving himself to darkness and despair was the only way out. He had loved Sirius like a parent and friend. Sirius was the person that he had trusted; the one person that he didn’t have to worry about revealing his fears and worries to; and he had killed Sirius. He didn’t need to be the one holding the wand, Harry had killed him just the same.

Harry would have welcomed a return of the images that had haunted him in Privet Drive. Somehow seeing Sirius fall through the veil didn’t feel quite so horrific when compared to this new image.

Harry had always been alone. Even his earliest memories of his loving parents were distorted and unclear. Even Harry couldn’t tell which were real and which were the result of his desperate need to know that he had been loved.

Ten years of consistent emotional neglect at the hands of the Dursley family had left a boy whose emotional growth was parched and stunted like a lily in a desert. It was a wonder at all that he still had the ability to feel and had not turned into the type of child that would truly have attended an institution like St. Brutus’s.

He had the ability to still relate to and care for his friends, even if he was a little reticent to give or receive affection openly. He felt sure that nothing but his parent’s genes could have granted him the ability to do so, after all he had endured with the Dursley’s.

To Harry, discovering and meeting Sirius was like scaling Mount Everest and finding yourself on the top, sore and aching but filled with contentment. Finally, here was someone who had an actual link to Harry. Someone who had stood by his parent’s side at his christening and pledged to do his best to help Harry grow and to protect him. Harry hadn’t needed to prove himself to Sirius in any way. Sirius had loved him all these years, even if he hadn’t known it. Somehow that gave Harry an immense feeling of inner peace and did more to help him recover from his bullied childhood than anything else.

All that time when he had been suffering under the Dursley’s tyrannical rule, Sirius had loved him.

Harry’s mind had numbly begun to register and collate everything that had happened since the night at the Department of Mysteries right up until the day in the room on the Third Floor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Too many people had died already. Dimly, Harry recognised that surviving with the guilt of Sirius’s death was almost too much to bear, but more importantly he knew that he would never survive the guilt of watching death come to visit his friends and the people that he now loved most in the world.

His mind wandered constantly to the picture that he had found. Fate seemed intent on dealing out a cruel hand to all those he loved. They didn’t deserve to die. Hermione, Ron and Ginny were too young to die.

Being around him was putting them in incessant danger and it couldn’t go on anymore.

His aching mind ground slowly to a halt, and letting logic take a back seat, Harry began to give up and slip away further. Maybe the only way to stop the pain was to let go and let the darkness take him completely. At least that way, his friends just might survive.

Night eventually gave way to day. Tonks began to stir as the first weak rays of sunlight began to filter into the silent corridor. She realised that her fingers were still intertwined with Remus’s, and her head was resting comfortably against him. She gently extricated her fingers and sat up slowly, feeling the stiffness invade her muscles.

Remus looked exhausted, dark circles underlined his eyes, eyes that were filled with worry. Tonks shook him gently to bring him out of his reverie. “Has there been any update on Harry’s condition yet?� she asked quietly.

Remus slowly shook his head and replied, “Dumbledore was here again around five in the morning. He insisted on seeing Harry even though the healers didn’t feel it would make any difference. He is still with him now.�

Tonks looked at her watch. It was 6.15am. Seeing Remus like this was devastating. After all, he was normally the calm dependable one, the person to find a solution and solve their worries. She wondered had he seen Harry yet, but assumed that he hadn’t considering that she had been asleep on his lap for the last few hours. “Remus, you should visit him,� she said calmly, “it may not help but I am sure you would feel a little better if you visited him.�

Remus looked at her slowly, “And what good would it do Tonks? I didn’t get there in time. I wasn’t at Grimmauld Place to protect him. I’m partly to blame for this. Harry had to single handedly fight off Dementors once again. I let him down, Nymphadora, I let him down. We both know that he was so much weaker emotionally this time around. I don’t know how he managed to summon that Patronus at all,� he whispered in a broken voice.

“Well, Harry is always surprising us isn’t he?� Tonks replied, “You shouldn’t be surprised Remus. Lets not start apportioning blame. None of us could have predicted something like this happening. We all thought he was safe at headquarters. Harry doesn’t think you let him down, and neither do I. Go on Remus, I’ll get you some coffee, you go in and visit Harry,� Tonks finished, physically pushing Lupin out of his seat and towards the door of the ward.

Remus opened the door and quietly approached the bed with the curtains drawn tightly around it. Taking a deep steadying breath, he pulled aside the curtain and stepped inside. Dumbledore was standing beside the bed, his face creased with worry, gently holding Harry’s hand in his. For a moment, they both stood in silence staring at the pale teenager with the messy hairy and scarred forehead.

Dumbledore sighed deeply and raised his eyes to look at Remus, “He seems further away than before. I can’t seem to reach him. His mind is darkened with some deep woe and I can’t seem to fathom exactly what it is. If I can’t recognise what is bothering him, it’s going to be very difficult to bring him back Remus,� he said quietly.

“But surely we know what it is that the Dementors made him relive Dumbledore. Obviously it was Sirius’s death, wasn’t it?� Remus asked.

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. “That’s just it. I don’t think that was the memory that plagued Harry when the Dementors attacked. Using a little-known form of Legilimency, I have located that memory in Harry’s mind and have found that it has been untouched for a number of days. That is to say, Harry hasn’t been forced to relive that memory recently. It is another memory that has affected him so badly. Unfortunately, as he is still not conscious, I cannot discern which memory is Harry’s worst. Like you, I would have assumed it was Sirius’s death, or indeed his parent’s death, but this is not the case. We need to pull him back from the darkness if he is to have any chance of surviving. His chance of survival diminishes as time goes by.�

Remus looked at Harry desperately. His death was not an option. It simply couldn’t happen. He tried talking to him, calling to him only to find his efforts frustrated. There was no reaction from Harry. Tonks eventually came to get Remus and bring him to the café for breakfast. He was exhausted from lack of sleep and worry and allowed himself to be led from Harry’s side.

Ginny had been forced to return to Grimmauld Place by her mother to get some rest. She found that despite how weary her body felt, her mind refused to allow her to sleep. It was quiet in the house. A member of the Order was patrolling the third floor.
Dumbledore had removed the mirror from the upstairs bedroom and powerful charms had been added to the house to reinforce it against further attack. Ginny felt safe there. However, sleep still eluded her tired mind and body.

Ginny eventually gave in and rose from her bed, she wandered into Harry and Ron’s room and found herself sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed, gazing around at his belongings. She thought back to their shared kiss. It felt like years ago now. So much had happened in the meantime. She remembered how she had somehow assumed that one day, she would kiss him again. She could never have imagined the turn of events of the day before.

She pulled back the blankets from Harry’s bed and lay down, knowing she needed sleep if she wanted to return to the hospital later.
As she lay her head on the pillow, something hard and cold was protruding from beneath it. She lifted the pillow and slowly pulled out an old, metal photo frame from under Harry’s pillow.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her mind started racing as she saw the inscription at the base of the frame. Circus Ultima. She felt stunned as she looked at the collection of people in the frame, and remembered seeing Harry with a photo frame in the library on the third floor. That must have been where he had found it. She found herself staring at his parents, looking impossibly young and all the others gathered in the magical picture. She imagined how surprised Harry must have been to see such a picture. Her heart constricted when she thought of how he had been sleeping with it under his pillow.

She dragged herself from her reverie and rushed downstairs, hoping that this might in some way help them to understand Harry’s condition.

Poor Mrs Weasley shot out of her seat where she had been resting, pulling out her wand when she heard the commotion. Ginny understood that she must have thought there had been another attack. She reassured her mother as quickly as possible that everything was fine, but that she needed to get to Dumbledore.

Under normal circumstances, Mrs Weasley would have sought to dissuade her, but she could see the urgency in Ginny’s face. She did not waste any time, anything that could help them save Harry had to be acted upon.

She grabbed some floo powder and her cloak and they both set off for the hospital once again, Ginny clutching the unusual photo frame close to her.

As soon as they arrived they had a hurried discussion with Remus who was just returning to visit Harry. Within moments Dumbledore came striding powerfully down the corridor, having been magically summoned by Remus.

Ginny explained what had happened the previous day, how she had remembered Harry muttering the words ‘Circus Ultima’ and how he had requested that she find a latin dictionary before he had charged upstairs to the third floor. Dumbledore pondered Ginny’s words carefully while studying the unusual picture.

The others sat in silence, waiting for him to speak. After some time, he rose and told the healer that he needed to visit with Harry again.

Lupin, Ginny and Mrs Weasley anxiously paced the corridor, waiting for him to emerge. After what seemed like hours, but must have been a much shorter period in reality, Dumbledore emerged from the ward, looking old and weary.

He shook his head as he sat down, as many emotions seemed to flit across his lined face. “I now know the memory that afflicted Harry when the Dementors approached. I’m still unsure how such a memory comes to be in Harry’s mind but to say I am surprised and shocked is an understatement. It does however adequately explain the extent of the effect that the Dementors had upon him,� Dumbledore said slowly

The others waited with bated breath for him to explain.

“Using this photo here, and more precisely, the inscription that is borne on the frame, I have located the memory. I hardly know how to explain it to you, so I will just tell you what I have seen and allow each of you to make up you own mind as to what it means,� he said gently, his eyes resting on each of them in turn, before continuing, “Harry seems to have had a vision if you like, in which he was visited by his Godfather.�

Lupin looked up quickly in surprise.

“This vision however, was particularly disturbing and upsetting to Harry,� Dumbledore continued. “Sirius, it would appear, squarely accused Harry of being the sole cause and reason for his death.�

This revelation was met by a shocked silence by the assembled group. There was an audible gasp from Mrs. Weasley. It was Lupin who came to his senses first.

“No. It is not possible. Sirius would NEVER have said such a thing, � he said vehemently, rising from his chair.

“And yet, in this vision, that is exactly what he DID say Remus,� Dumbledore continued, “I have seen the full vision through Harry’s eyes. It was extremely real and very disturbing. We all know that Harry did blame himself for Sirius’s death, as did we all blame ourselves to some degree, but for him to have been confronted by his godfather and have his worst fears confirmed must have been devastating.�

Lupin had begun to pace back and forth, raking his hand through his hair in a distracted manner. “I don’t understand Dumbledore. Harry must have had that vision sometime prior to the Dementor attack, yet he never spoke of it to me, nor to any of this friends,� Remus said.

“Based on my conversation with Ron yesterday about Harry, I believe the vision came to him while he slept in Grimmauld Place, soon after arriving. You are correct Remus, Harry did not speak to his friends of what he had seen. However the vision had both a negative and positive outcome,� Dumbledore said calmly.

Remus snorted, “How on earth could there be anything positive about being told by your dead godfather, the one person in the world that you felt safe with, that you are the reason he is dead? �

Dumbledore nodded kindly. “I understand you are shocked by this Remus, but you have got to understand. This vision of Harry’s had a ripple effect. It led him to go and investigate the third floor, where I believe he came across this interesting picture,� Dumbledore added, nodding to Ginny. “If he had not, Harry may never have put together the pieces, and realised that Hermione and Ron were in imminent danger. You must all realise that had he not got there in time to prevent Hermione finishing the spell, Grimmauld Place and its entire inhabitants would be no more. Voldemort would have infiltrated the one cell that was actively resisting him. In one foul swoop, he would have not only destroyed the Order, but he would have had the perfect opportunity to murder Harry and so sentence the entire wizarding world to doom.�


Everyone sat quietly digesting what Dumbledore had just said. The reality of how close they had come to losing the war was suddenly all too obvious. Dumbledore, however was looking a lot more content than previously. He looked around at the others, noting the worry and tiredness on their faces.

“Let us not lose all hope. We now have the source of Harry’s malaise; we can surely begin to remedy it. Remus, I want you to look at the picture that Ginny gave to me. If you recognise the young lady that is standing beside Sirius, I think Harry will need to know about her. Please go to him and speak to him, he may be able to hear you. Tell him all you know of the raven-haired girl,� Dumbledore said.

Remus could hardly contain his astonishment on seeing the picture. It wasn’t just the people that were depicted there that amazed him, nor was it the fact that the individuals grouped within the frame could never have been depicted together in a photograph if it werent for magic. No, what really astonished Remus was the sight of Darcy. He remembered the last time he had seen a picture of Darcy as if it were yesterday. He stared at the pair of her and Sirius and memories long forgotten came flooding back to him.

Giving Dumbledore a brief nod, he rose from his chair and proceeded into the ward and to Harry’s bedside.

Sitting by Harry’s bedside, Remus continued to stare at the picture. While he, James and Lily were all about seventeen in the photo, he knew that Sirius must have been that little bit older as he hadn’t met Darcy until after he had finished his education at Hogwarts.

Remus thought back to the first time he had noticed anything amiss with his friend. Sirius had always been a ladies man. He was one of those lucky guys who were blessed with enough charm, and good looks that he did not have to try very hard, women simply found him attractive, just as he was.

It had always been that way right through their time at Hogwarts and had continued when they had left school and begun to train for their various jobs and work for the Order of the Phoenix.

Some time around then, Sirius had seemed to quieten down and grow up. To Remus and the others, he seemed to have matured. No longer was he interested in chatting up anything in a skirt. He seemed distracted and didn’t even seem to notice the looks he attracted from women wherever he went.

James and Remus had joked privately about his being in love, but dared not ask him directly. Sirius could have quite a temper at times, and was more an adept and getting his own back at people who annoyed him!

They assumed that because Sirius had never introduced or even mentioned any special girl, that it was something else that was bothering him. They all had more than enough to worry about with Voldemort and the Order as it was. And so Sirius’s friends had put down the change in their friend to growing up and maturing in the middle of a war.

More and more wizards and witches had died at the hands of the death eaters and everyone was edgy, wondering if they were to be next.

It was about this time that Sirius arrived back at the original Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and requested a private conversation with Remus and James.

Almost as if it were yesterday, Remus recalled that conversation.
“Look, would you just stop pacing Padfoot, you’re making me dizzy,� James complained, watching his friend’s incessant tour of the cramped bedroom. James wasn’t annoyed at his friend. He was worried. Very worried. Sirius looked absolutely terrible. His face had a haunted, drawn look, like one who had seen too many horrors in life. He prowled around the confines of the tiny bedroom, like a wounded animal, carefully avoiding eye contact with his friends. Youth seemed to have fled from Sirius’s life overnight.

Remus, who was more practised in the art of patience than James, sat silently staring into the distance. He knew that Sirius would eventually tell them what was on his mind in his own good time, getting on his case would not speed up the process in any way. Sirius turned and stared at them both, and as though he had just come to an internal decision, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small photograph and handed it to James.

James studied the picture carefully, letting out a slow whistle and beginning to smile as he handed it to Remus to look at it. Remus gazed at the beautiful girl with the long brunette hair smiling out at him. The Sirius that was in the picture, stood behind her, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist as he gazed almost defiantly out of the small magical photo.

Remus raised his head and looked at Sirius, waiting for an explanation. He could see that James was now smirking and was probably wondering what the big deal was about, but one look at Sirius confirmed that there was more to this than met the eye.

Sirius began to speak softly, almost afraid that someone outside the room might hear him. “Her name is Darcy and she is the woman that I love.�

He began to pace again, slower this time as he continued to talk. “We met quite by accident almost 10 months ago now. Darcy was caught in the crossfire during the capture of two death eaters not far from here. She wasn’t badly injured but was desperate to get away and hide, despite her injuries. She refused to let me take her to St. Mungo’s, instead begging me to find her somewhere to hide until she had recovered.

“I knew it went against my better judgement, but decided to relent and help her out. I found her a place, and spent the next few weeks bringing her food and potions there. Initially her injuries were slow to heal, but after three weeks, she was almost herself again.�

He smiled slowly in remembrance, “James, I know that you always claimed to have fallen in love with Lily at first sight, but I could never fathom what that might be like. I always reckoned it was more a turn of phrase rather than something that actually happened, but I can now admit I was wrong.

“Hard as it was to believe, I was smitten and there was no way out. I knew almost immediately that Darcy felt the same way, although she fought it, telling me that she didn’t feel anything for me and that I shouldn’t hold false hopes like that.� Sirius face darkened and his brow furrowed as he remembered the words she had used to spurn him.

“But by the time she had healed fully, she had admitted how she felt. I was never happier. Darcy, unfortunately was never unhappier.�

Remus and James looked at each other in confusion as Sirius continued. “Darcy had always been very secretive about her family. I had put it down to the war. We all try and protect those we love. I thought that it was her way of trying to protect them. She seemed to be torn. She loved me, but it was as if by loving me she was betraying something or someone else. Not only that but she refused to meet me anywhere in public, I wanted her to meet all of you, but she refused. It felt like we were doing something wrong, constantly creeping around, meeting in secret in the oddest of locations, but I didn’t care. I loved her, so did whatever was needed in order to be able to be with her.�


Sirius sank down on the bed opposite his friends. “I can’t say it was easy, and recently it was getting harder and harder. Finally we had this massive row a few days ago. She told me that we wouldn’t be able to see each other for a few weeks, that her family were getting suspicious as to where she was always slipping off to. As always, I lost my temper, accused her of being ashamed of me. She let me rant and rave and give out, without ever offering an explanation. When I had finished, she simply kissed me and left.�

Remus and James sat in silence, waiting for him to continue. They had never heard Sirius talk about a girl like this. That change that came over him was astounding.

Sirius sighed and slowly continued his story. “I didn’t see or hear from her for days. I was crazy with worry, wondering what had happened to her, wondering if she had been attacked.

“And then yesterday I got a owl asking me to meet her. I believed that she felt as sorry as I did for the row and wanted to make it up. Those days I had spent apart from her and not hearing from her had been hellish. I was prepared to apologise and do what I needed to do to make it work between us.


“She was waiting for me when I got there, I thought my heart would break when I saw her. Her face was badly bruised and she was hurt. She wouldn’t admit it of course, but I could tell by the way she moved that she had been beaten.� Sirius paused at this point, his head lowered as he tried to control his ragged breathing.

“I went crazy. Told her I would kill whoever had laid their hands on her, but she refused to tell me what had happened.

“She cried. She cried so hard I could hardly understand what she was saying at times.�

Sirius got up and started pacing again, his face haunted with pain, his two friends were no longer smiling, in fact Remus had that cold, icy feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that you get when you realise you are about to hear something terrible, and there is nothing you can do to stop the inevitable news from being imparted.


“She told me again and again that she loved me. She talked about places we had gone, things we had done together. I wanted her to stop. It all sounded too final. After all, we had the rest of our lives to be reliving our time together didn’t we? And then she told me that we could never see each other again.

“Of course I wouldn’t believe her. How could I? I loved her, and knew she loved me. Surely we could work through it. But she just cried and shook her head.

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I demanded an explanation from her, which she wasn’t prepared to give. I lost my temper with her.�

Sirius’s voice was barely a whisper by now, but his friends caught every word, such was the silence in the bedroom.

“I told her that she must never have loved me, that it must all have been a lie, and then I turned to leave. I heard her call me back, but I wouldn’t listen.

“It was after midnight, and I wasn’t really paying attention where I was going. I was just wandering aimlessly from street to street tyring to make sense of what had happened. I know that was stupid, what with the war going on, but all I could think about was what she had just said.

“I was then I heard the sounds of footsteps following me.� James head snapped up on hearing this and he sat a little straighter on the bed. Sirius shook his head.

“It was a textbook ambush - darkened alley, one attacker behind, two in front. I started hexing everything in sight, all the while looking for escape routes. I managed to hold them off and headed down another passageway. I had stunned one of the attackers, and got another over my shoulder as I ran.�

“Then my luck started running out, I knew the third guy was gaining on me and seemed adept at dodging everything I threw at him. Before I knew what was happening, I heard him utter some curse that I have never even heard of. I didn’t have time to utter deflection spell, when I felt something ram into me and knock me sideways out of the path of the curse.

“All I could think of was my attacker. I turned from where I lay in the alley and got him with a full body bind. It was only then I realised that someone was lying in the alley, someone else who had taken the full brunt of that curse.

“I didn’t need to check. I needn’t have looked. In my heart I knew it was Darcy, even before I walked back to where she lay face down and turned her over,� Sirius whispered, his voice nothing more than a guttural moan. It was as if all life had gone out of him. He seemed to be barely keeping it together. His hands were joined, in an attempt to control his shaking hands, his knuckles white.

“She was still alive, but only just. She told me that her surname was Nott.� Remus and James exchanged glances. Sirius nodded, “Yes, Theodore Nott is a Death Eater, and her brother. She only survived long enough to tell me that she loved me, and that she was only trying to protect me when she tried to distance herself from me. Within moments, she was gone.�

Sirius stopped speaking. His friends sat in silence, staring at him with pity, anguish and shock. He shook his head, as if forcing himself to continue, “Darcy was my love. She was the woman that I would have done anything for. She was the woman I pictured myself growing old with, the only woman that filled my dreams and my hopes for the future. I couldn’t just let her die and not have you know that she existed. Look at her picture. I can swear to you now, that is the picture of the only woman I will ever love.�

Tears were slowly streaking down Sirius’s face. He raised a hand to James and Remus when they tried to approach him, he backed away slightly, placed his picture in his pocket and turned and left the room.

Sirius had changed that day. He was the first of them to have lost someone directly and it changed him. It seemed to kill off a little part of him. He seemed to lose part of who he was. Remus always felt it was that loss that had let him to believe that he couldn’t act as Secret Keeper to the Potters. He hadn’t been able to save Darcy, how could he trust himself to save his best friend and young family?

He had become even more reckless in some respects. Throwing himself into his work with wild abandon, relishing going up against Death Eaters regardless of how outnumbered he was. He seemed have some sort of desperate death wish. It had taken him a lot of time to accept Darcy’s death and return to a shadow of his former self, but he was never going to be the same Sirius that Lupin and James had known.

From that day on, Sirius had never spoken of Darcy. His friends had spoken of her, when he wasn’t present, wondering about the ten months they had spent together. But Sirius had never, ever mentioned her again. It became an unwritten rule between them.

Remus sighed, shaking himself from his reverie. True to his word, Sirius had never loved any other woman from then until his death. Remus had often wondered had that been a mistake. Death should only be the final chapter for the one who died, not for those left to carry on.

Remus began to understand why Dumbledore needed and wanted him to tell Harry about Darcy. Harry needed to learn to forgive himself, and to love again without fear of loss, if he ever wanted to become a whole person. He also needed him to see that Sirius was a flawed man just like any other who should have had the strength and courage to love again, but hadn’t.

Remus lowered himself into the chair by Harry’s bed and began his story. “Her name was Darcy, and she was the woman Sirius loved.�

He hadn’t asked how Harry was doing. He had been afraid of what the answer might be. It had been well over twentyfour hours since it all had happened and now Ron wanted to know, he needed to know.

His mother had been in earlier but unfortunately he had slept through the entire visit, his mind and body still weak from the prolonged exposure to the Dementors. Now he was awake, desperate for answers yet there was no-one there to ask. It had begun to grow dark outside again. Ron didn’t have a clear idea what time it might be. His moments of clarity had been fleeting during his first number of hours that he lay in hospital.

Ron and Harry were similar in many respects; neither could be considered a genius when it came to study and school. Both struggled their way through many of their subjects. Each teenager had his own particular gifts, Harry was a particularly good flyer while Ron was no mean tactician, making him a natural at the game of chess. They saw eye to eye on most things which is what started them on the road to friendship, and by now had gone through enough dangers and adventures to make them firm and best friends.

However until Ron’s recent brush with the dementors, he had never fully appreciated what it might be like to be Harry. Now Ron could imagine better than anyone what it must be like to have as your worst memories the dying screams of your mother and the picture of your GodFather falling to his death through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Never before had Ron wondered at what Harry’s worst fear might be. He had forgotten that the powers of the Dementors lay not only in their ability to make their victim relive their worst memories, but also their worst fears. He had forgotten until he had found himself faced with the terrifying power of the Dementors himself.

Ron considered getting out of bed and going to find out how Harry was doing, but didn’t know if his body had gained enough strength to stand on his own. And anyway he didn’t fancy wandering around the corridors. He might have bumped into Hermione and that was more than he could handle at the moment.

He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since that night he had woken to find her crying by his bedside. His mother had tried to talk to him about it, gently prying, trying to tell him that he should forgive Hermione, but Ron had remained resolute, saying he didn’t want to see her. He didn’t give his reasons, never openly blaming Hermione for what had happened, but he would not be swayed into seeing her.

His mother had obviously put it down to the fact that it was Hermione who had been the catalyst for everything that had happened even if it had not been of her own free will. She didn’t realise that it wasn’t a matter of forgiveness for Ron, it was a matter of fear.

Ron was still haunted by nightmares. He had not mentioned it to his mother, but knew from her concerned looks when he woke to find her by his bedside that she had witnessed his uneasy tossing and turning. He knew that she had begged the healers for a dreamless sleep potion to allow him to rest easier, but they had refused; in order to recover from the trauma that had happened, he needed to let his subconscious relive and accept it. And so Ron still found himself being woken repeatedly by his own shouts, his skin and hair soaked with sweat, his heart racing.

While he was still having nightmares, the subject of his nightmares had changed and Ron was now reliving his worst fear, the one that the Dementors had tortured him with. It was the fear that made him sweat and call out. It was the fear that translated itself into a nightmare that always ended the same way – Hermione was dead.

Ron tried not to think about it when he was awake, but at times like this when the ward was quiet and there was no one around, it filled his every thought. The nightmare was always the same. It started with an attack. There were death eaters everywhere firing spell after spell. He could see Hermione in the distance and desperately tried to get to her. It was then that the green light of the killing curse would brushe past him, hitting Hermione squarely in the chest…. The only elements of the dream that seemed to change were Ron’s attempts to reach her in time. No matter what he did differently however, the curse always hit her and Ron always woke up screaming her name.

That was the worst bit. At the moment it was okay, anyone who heard him calling out Hermione’s name would assume he was reliving the Dementor attack, not reliving his own private hell.

Ron remembered a time when giant spiders would have been his worst fear. That had all changed as adolescence had arrived, not to mention the return of Voldemort. At around the same time, two things had crystallised in his mind,
1. Hermione was not a boy (It had suddenly become obvious to his hormone infused brain) and
2. He couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to her.

Being a teenager, more precisely a teenage boy, Ron didn’t equate his feelings to love. No. He didn’t know when exactly he had started to feel so protective of her. It had come on so gradually that he had hardly noticed. He put his slight infatuation with her down to hormones, and his worry for her safety down to the fact that she and he had been best friends for five years.

He had never truly realised that losing Hermione was his greatest fear, not until the Dementors had sorted through his memories and fears and seized upon that one.

Now Ron felt like a curtain had been drawn back from a part of his emotions that he had never seen or understood before. His feelings for Hermione ran deep and the realisation of this scared him.

So he had pushed her away, told everyone that he didn’t want to see her, told himself that it was just a phase and he would grow out of it.

He didn’t seem to realise the hurt he was causing Hermione. Her constant pleas to Mr and Mrs Weasley to talk to him appeared to be falling on Ron’s deaf ears. His parents had tried to make him see sense, and it broke their hearts to see Hermione’s heartbroken face then they would tell her yet again that Ron didn’t want to see her.

Ron sighed and closed his eyes, preparing himself for another broken sleep.




Hermione, being a teenage girl, and as such being that bit more perceptive of her own emotions as well as others, had recognised some time ago that she had feelings for the lanky redhead. Not wanting to make things awkward between them she had not acted upon those feelings. Knowing Ron as she did, she knew he would never figure out how she felt, (not without serious help anyway,) so maintaining the status quo of their relationship seemed like the sensible thing to do.

She had kept up this pretence for the past year, a flimsy house of cards designed to protect her from getting hurt if he ever found out she liked him, and to protect the friendship that she had with him, and that she valued so much.

The house of cards had blown away without offering any resistance when he had held her face in his hands that night after he had woken from his nightmare. He had looked into her eyes, and she knew, she just knew that he felt the same. It had lasted but an instant but it was enough. That was what made the current situation so much more terrible to bear.

Hermione had returned to the hospital corridor to enquire after Harry. She had given up asking for Ron, finding Mrs Weasley’s sympathetic looks too much to endure.
Remus had spent the afternoon talking to him about Sirius and aspects of Sirius’s life that Harry knew nothing about. Dumbledore had visited him again after this, and had seemed more content with Harry’s condition. He advised again that Harry was still gravely ill, but there was a seed of hope. Harry seemed to have risen slightly through to foggy depths of unconsciousness and appeared to be responding better to light stimulus.

Relieved with this slightly better outlook on Harry’s health. Hermione had sat for sometime listening to the others talking quietly as they continued to maintain their vigil outside Harry’s room. Ginny looked a little more at ease for the first time in days, and for the first time ever, Hermione began to realise just how strong Ginny’s feelings were for Harry. It was as if she was willing him to live, willing him to fight the darkness. She had taken to visiting him several times just to talk to him, to stroke his hair and tell him about all the great games of quidditch that they would have once he was better. Ginny never left his side without kissing him on the cheek and whispering in his ear that she would be back in no time.

Dumbledore watched this interaction unseen, and his worry seemed to ease a little every time he saw it. Harry, he felt, was getting ready to fight the darkness, it was just going to take a little more time, a little more patience on all their parts.


Hermione shook herself when she realised she had been staring at Ginny, who was looking at her quizzically with a smile on her face. Hermione smiled back, and making a private resolution, she rose from her seat and walked down the corridor until she stood, hesitant in front of the door leading to Ron’s ward.

Hermione didn’t need to make it as far as the bed to know that Ron was in the grips of a powerful nightmare. Already beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead, the bed sheets rising and falling in unison with his racing breath

She stood for a moment watching him, and then making her decision, made her way speedily to the side of his bed. She saw rather than heard him mouth the word Hermione. She cursed herself once again for all that happened, but before she could act she found herself listening to what Ron was groaning in his sleep.

“She, she cant be…No… I don’t.. I don’t believe it…Hermione, she can’t be dead….Oh God No…�


She moved her hands to steady his arms that were flailing about helplessly. She clasped them in her own, feeling their grip tighten on her fingers. She freed one hand from his, and used it to gently caress the hair back from his eyes, letting her fingers careen down his cheek slowly.

“Shush Ron, its okay, I’m okay. Come back to me Ron, its okay,� she whispered, her teenage awkwardness around him momentarily forgotten in her desire to rid him of his nightmare. “I’m here Ron, and I’m not leaving you. Its okay.�

Slowly Ron began to calm and then jerked into wakefulness as if to confirm that indeed, Hermione was okay. He sat up suddenly and looked her over, as if to be sure that she was in one piece, the nightmare had once again seemed so horribly real.

“Hermione?� he said, his voice a mere croak. She nodded slowly, not once breaking eye contact, she felt rather than knew he needed reassurance and was relieved to see his breathing slow noticable and he relaxed back onto his pillows. Now that the nightmare was once again slipping away, Ron’s previous worries about Harry returned and he immediately began to question Hermione, “Hermione is Harry doing okay? I haven’t been talking to anyone all day, Mum wouldn’t say anything initially, she just looked like she was going to cry. In fact she freaked me out so much that I didn’t want to know how bad he was, but now, now I just have to know. Tell me everything.�

Hermione filled him in as best she could, watching his face as his brow creased with worry when she told him of Harry’s unconciousness. She quickly gave him Dumbledore’s latest assessment and was relieved to see his face relax.

It was only when she had finished talking that Ron realised that her hand was still on his neck and her other hand was still gently holding his. Lately, the smallest touch between the pair had led to both jumping apart and looking distinctly embarrassed. Ron wasn’t sure what had happened to change all that but he wasn’t complaining.

He found himself staring into those brown eyes that were displaying a mix of fiery emotions. He saw a deep protectiveness glow there. He saw some other emotions too that caused his heart to stutter from its regular beat and his mind to leap into full alertness.

She was so close, he could see the flecks of green that tinged her brown eyes.
He felt her hand on his neck, her other hand gently holding his, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from that face, those eyes. As if from a million miles away he heard her whisper, as if fearing that to speak out loud would break the spell, “You are not going to lose me Ron and I’m not going to lose you. I can’t imagine life without you.�


Slowly, she lowered her head towards his before her common sense got a chance to prevail. The distance between them shrank from feet, to inches to millimetres. She left her lips brush his softly, savouring their first real kiss. It was awkward and sweet, all at the same time. They broke apart quickly, but didn’t pull away from each other. Ron’s fingers were still lost in her hair at the base of her neck, her hand resting against his chest. Both blushed, their teenage tendency towards embarrassment reasserting itself with force.

Ron leaned in and kissed Hermione again, before his nerve failed him. He could feel her smile against his lips and felt one begin to form on his face too.

“Ron, I want to, I need to apologise for everything,� Hermione stuttered breaking eye contact with Ron. “I may not have known what I was doing, but you could have died because of what I did -�

Ron interrupted her by placing a finger on her lips to silence her. “Leave it be Hermione. There is no point in rehashing what’s happened. We know that you weren’t yourself. We both survived what happened, it’s now just a matter of getting over it and moving on. I guess it proves that we are not really safe anywhere are we? We are going to have to help Harry more than ever this year, no one is really safe until Voldemort is taken care of,� he said. “I don’t think I ever fully appreciated that fact until this week. While he lives we can never have a normal life. We shouldn’t be worrying about being attacked, we shouldn’t feel the need to constantly be in a state of high alert, but we are. We have become so accustomed to it that we tend to forget that living like this isn’t normal.�

Hermione nodded slowly. “I know Ron. It’s hard to think of fighting Voldemort while Harry is still so ill. I can’t bring myself to do anything other than pray that he will be okay.

Ron gently squeezed her hand reassuringly, “He’s going to be okay Hermione. Harry has been through worse than this and has never given up. He’ll make it.� If he could have Ron would probably have croseed his fingers as he said this, but still deep down he believed it.

“It’s not going to be an easy year,� he added, “ but I think it might be a little more interesting that I would have previously thought,� he said, grinning slyly, “But before I kiss you again and lose all common sense there’s something I need to ask you..�

Hermione raised her eyes to his, still blushing and waited for Ron to ask his question.
He looked very solumn suddenly. “Hermione, will you be my girlfriend?�

Hermione was unable to stifle the laugh that was breaking through, it was so typical of Ron to come up with something like that at a time of crisis but he persisted not in the least bit put out by her reaction. “You might laugh Hermione but I don’t think it’s official unless I actually ask you out.� He was blushing furiously again at this stage.
Hermione nodded and confirmed it with a kiss.

Remus could feel his entire body begin to relax when Dumbledore had finished telling them about Harry’s condition. It was the first hopeful sign in so long that he felt his body might collapse with the pure feeling of relief that was flowing through him.

He had to get away from the others, he could feel his eyes begin to spark with unshed tears and didn’t want to break down in front of everyone. Remus was the calm one after all. The person that they could all turn to and he would be the voice of reason. He provided structure to the group, being the dependable role. It had always been that way, in shool, during the first war and now. He got up quickly mumbling something about getting some fresh air, and walked down the corridor quickly, head bowed.

He didn’t hear or see another get up and follow him. He burst through the exit door of the ward that opened out into a small tree-lined garden and kept walking, wanting to get some distance between him and the hospital before breaking down. Walking to the far side of a large oak tree, Remus stopped, leaning his head against its rough, dry bark and began to cry.

She heard him before she saw him. She heard the guttural, anguished cry that seemed to go on and on. She paused, wondering whether she was doing the right thing, but hearing him take shaky breaths at the other side of the tree, she pressed on, her mind made up.

Before he knew it, he felt strong hands on his shoulder forcing him to turn around. He dimly felt annoyed at the person’s timing. There was no way he could pull himself together quickly and mask his tears. He allowed himself to be turned around by those hands that refused to relinquish their grip. Before he could get a good look at her, Tonks pulled him into her arms tightly, letting him bury his face in her shoulder and let his emotions free.

He didn’t know how long he had stood there like that, all he knew was that one set of complex emotions seemed to be replaced with another in quick succession. He felt calmer, his tears had ceased sometime earlier, but he continued to hold Tonks tightly in his arms, relieved for once not to be standing alone, trying to deal with everything alone.

Remus never allowed himself to get too close to anyone. There had been witches who had been attracted to him, his mild and understanding manner had won him many admirers through the years. However, due to his affliction, he had never let anyone get too close, always afraid that sometime in the future his darker side that manifested itself at full moon could turn and hurt any woman who was close to him.

While Dumbledore had tried to get him to see that he didn’t need to cut himself off completely from the option of having a meaningful relationship. Remus had never agreed however, and Dumbledore had eventually given in, knowing that pressing Remus on the subject was just causing him more pain.

And so he found himself here in the arms of Nymphadora Tonks knowing that the feelings he was beginning to harbour for her would soon need to be squashed and destroyed if he were to protect her from his darker side. With other women it had been easy, he had never been anything other than mildly attracted to them. But he found the thoughts of having to distance himself from Nymphdora not only physically but emotionally deeply depressing.

He briefly let his mind entertain the thought that Dumbledore might be right, that maybe he could allow himself to get close to someone for once… but as quickly as the thought occurred, he pushed it away, and slowly began to push Tonks away from him also.

She felt the slight pressure on her arms where he now had his hands and felt his head rise from her shoulder, gently trying to extricate himself from her grip. She raised her eyes to his, quickly trying to judge his thoughts. He didn’t seem to want to meet her gaze, so she had to raise her hand to his face, to force him to look at her. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but she couldn’t deny what she was seeing in his eyes. He was closing the barriers once again, pushing her away. She could see the concern that lay behind the action. ‘He doesn’t want me to get hurt, but will end up hurting me by pushing me away,’ she thought. She couldn’t let it happen.

“No Remus,� she whispered in protest against his actions and his movements stilled. “Look at me.�

He looked at her unwillingly, knowing that holding his resolve was going to prove harder and harder to hold once he looked into her eyes.

He met her eyes briefly, preparing to break contact almost immediately when she caught him by surprise leaning closer to him suddenly and kissing him.

Lupin was lost in the moment. He found that his normally balanced mind was having difficulty churning out any coherent thoughts. He let the kiss continue, it was pleasant and undemanding, Tonks seemed to realise that she couldn’t push him too far or too fast.

When eventually they parted, Remus held her close, allowing himself the privilege of breathing in her scent and memorising it. He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, feeling the stab of sadness when he saw the intensity of feeling that was mirrored there.

He raised his head and kissed Tonks gently on the forehead. Then pulling her hands into his, he looked down at her as he desperately tried to get together the courage to say what he needed to.

She felt huge contentment, standing there with Remus. It felt so right, he knew her so well and could accept all her idiosyncrasies without question. She could be herself around him and knew that he would love her even more for it.

Remus looked into her eyes. He knew he would need to be completely open with her if he ever wanted her to understand. He dreaded the pain he was about to inflict upon her but there was no other way.

“Nymphadora, you are the woman that makes my heart feel glad and light. You make me feel like the man I should have been if circumstances were different, a man that is whole and decent and honourable. But I am not whole Tonks. I never can be. I will always have to suffer through periods where my mind is not my own, nor can I control how I act, or indeed who I hurt. Please, let me finish,� Remus said quietly as Tonks tried to interrupt.

“I have had many years to accept this other side of myself. I have also had many moments in which I have emerged after a full moon, wondering what I did and who I may have hurt. It is a feeling that is intolerable, and so, I take potions to make me safe, I hide myself away under lock and key to keep others safe, and yet these measures may not be fool proof.�

“When I change, I do not know my own strength, my mind becomes cunning in the art of escape and hunting, elements that my human mind knows little of. No one can guarantee that I will not attack, we can only assume I won’t. It is a burden of knowledge that I have lived with all these years, and one that drove me to make an oath to myself a long time ago.�

Tonks was looking at him frantically, trying to get an opening or a lull in the conversation so that she could begin her counter-attack, but there was none. Remus had a determined look in his eyes that she didn’t like. It was a look that brooked no argument and as she looked into his eyes she found all her well-rehearsed answers to what he was saying dissolved into nothingness as the full pain of heartache and rejection came to the fore.

He continued in the same quiet, calm tone, “The oath I made was to protect those that I love. Do not have any doubt Nymphadora that I do love you. Perhaps I love you too much. It sometimes makes me careless with regards to others. It is the fact that I love you that sustains me through everything that we have gone through. It is the fact that I will strive always to protect you from all harm that gives me a reason to get up everyday and keep going. It is the fact that I love you so very much that allows to me to be able to let you go and to turn around and walk away now. Please, don’t cry and don’t think that I am trying to cause you pain, nothing is further from the truth. It would be a lie to try and protect you in this war everyday and not afford you any protection from me.�

“It is a dream Tonks, one that has no future,� Remus finished in a whisper, “when life gets hard, and all looks bleak, at those times I will remember you in my arms and will have the courage to fight on.�

He gently raised her tear-stained face and softly kissed her. “Goodbye Nymphadora,� he whispered as he turned and left.

It was barely a whisper but Lupin heard it all the same, “I love you too Remus.�


He had gone. He didn’t hear her sobs growing louder as she was left feeling bereft. He didn’t feel her utter desolation that comes with love without hope. Had he looked into her eyes at that moment he would have seen it all too clearly. Maybe it would have caused him to change his mind. Maybe it would have led him to take that chance on her and on him. Maybe. But Remus had gone, he had turned and left her alone and desolate. She knew there would be no more discussion, no more persuasion. She had seen it in his face, and knew that to try and change his mind would cause them both even more pain. Tonks slowly pulled herself together, reined in her emotions and hid her heartbreak. Slowly she turned to face the pathway back to the hospital, a desolate and lonely figure.

It reminded Harry of the feeling you get when you get when you press your hands to your closed eyelids tightly and then let go. Little shoots and jets of light seem to radiate as your pupils readjust from the sudden darkness into the sudden light. The difference in this case, was that those little jets of light were short-lived to be taken over by darkness relatively quickly.

However the period of light triumphing over dark in Harry’s head seemed to be lengthening. He still couldn’t find the energy to communicate vocally. His senses recognised the feeling of someone’s hand in his every-so-often and he would try to gently squeeze that hand whenever he had the energy, wanting that someone to know that he was there, just below the surface, still in the dark, but yes, he was there.

Ginny squeezed back. Delighting in finally receiving any kind of response from Harry. The first time he had squeezed her hand, she had practically bounced out the door to the corridor to tell the others, delighting in how Dumbledore’s face had brightened considerably at the news. She left them immediately to return to Harry’s side.

Ginny was allowed to spend several hours at the hospital, usually intermingled with a trip back to Grimmauld Place in the afternoon with her mother. Despite Harry’s progress, her mother would not allow her to maintain a 24-hour vigil by his bedside, sensibly suggesting that Harry would benefit from some uninterrupted rest, as would Ginny.

Mrs Weasley never made any reference to Ginny’s feelings for Harry. She felt selfish and guilty for wishing and hoping that it was just a teenage infatuation. She could not bear the thought of Ginny subjecting herself to any more risk, and being close to Harry Potter, was like playing with fire when it came to risk. While Molly and Arthur had discussed this, they knew better than to mention it to Ginny. They all knew what Harry had done to protect them countless times, in fact Mrs Weasley considered him to be one of the family, but Ginny was her only daughter and the idea of losing her….

Ginny had made sure never to mention her feelings for Harry to anyone. What they guessed or surmised from her attentions to him was their own prerogative as far as she was concerned. She was not prepared to either accept or deny that she had feelings for him.

Sometimes Ginny’s age belied just how intelligent she really was. She didn’t need to be told that she was an active target if she was Harry’s friend. Obviously the stakes went up considerably as Harry’s girlfriend. She had watched her parents in their obvious anxiety over Ron and wondered how they would cope if something were to happen to her. She thought of Harry, and how he too, would cope if something were to happen to her.

She already knew that as soon as he came back to consciousness and regained his strength, he would push her away, in an effort to protect her in the only way he knew how. She knew too, that she would let him do so, in an effort to protect herself, and by doing so, her family from any further pain and loss. Ginny didn’t like to think about that and so instead she allowed herself the luxury of being close to Harry everyday, while he was still unconscious, knowing that she was living on borrowed time.

It hurt her to think about it, ‘but,’ she reasoned, ‘wasn’t she just a teenager after all? Wasn’t there a very good chance that what she was feeling right now was just a teenage crush? But hadn’t she got over that crush years ago? Didn’t that mean that what she was feeling now had to be a little more?’

It was circular thinking with no obvious way out. Ginny didn’t want to have to think or worry about things that seemed far too old, too grown up for someone of her age. Anytime she wanted to forget the questions swirling around in her brain, she forced herself to remember – Harry was alive, he was alive and he was getting better. She found that thought tended to fill her with relief and contentment and push the nagging questions to the background for a time.

Ron was to be allowed home the following day. There had been a rush of cleaning and tidying done in Grimmauld Place to prepare for his arrival. The twins had even pitched in. They too had matured, while still being up for a laugh at all times, they took pity on their mother’s shattered nerves and were well behaved while they helped.

Ron still wasn’t saying much, he seemed content and at his happiest when Hermione was at his side. No one needed to ask what was going on there, he usually had a firm grasp of her hand whenever she was sitting by his bed which left no one in any doubt that they were a couple.

Both of them had gone to see Harry, together and separately. Dumbledore had requested it, saying he wanted to see Harry’s reaction to their presence. Harry had merely squeezed Hermione’s hand in acknowledgement of her being there. However when Ron visited him and spoke to him, he became agitated, tossing from side to side in his bed. Ron had worried, thinking that he had done something wrong. Dumbledore gently explained that Harry was probably still unaware that Ron had survived the Dementor attack unscathed. After Ron heard that, he went back to Harry and talked to him some more, reassuring him that he was fine and had suffered no lasting effects of the attack. Harry had seemed to quieten after that.


Ginny popped in later that same evening on her evening visit. She sat on the edge of his bed, leaning in to give his cheek a quick peck, before putting his hand in hers. She proceeded to tell him about all the happenings at Grimmauld Place. Ginny reasoned that Harry should be fully up to date when he awoke and that their conversation, well, her conversation should be as normal as possible.

She scolded him about the fact that they were going to Diagon Alley the next day to get all their books and that she and the others were going to have to carry all of his and Ron’s stuff. Mrs Weasley still didn’t think Ron was up to too much exertion. When she finally ran out of things to talk about she simply sat holding his hand and staring at his sleeping face. She felt a well of sadness build up in her, knowing that he was going to wake up eventually, bringing an end to that special time they spent together. Immediately she felt ashamed and angry for thinking that way, knowing how worried everyone was and how much they were longing for him to wake.

She couldn’t deny though that a little part of her wanted to just sit here holding his hand forever. She sighed slowly, brushing his hair back from his eyes. If was so unusual to see Harry for such a long period of time without his glasses on. The little indentation that they made on the skin of his nose from the prolonged contact had completely faded at this stage.

She let her fingers wander from his hair to his face, gently tracing the outline of his lips. She whispered goodnight, and bent to kiss his cheek, but changing her mind, instead gently brushing her lips against his. She heard his sudden intake of breath and began to worry that she had made a mistake, remembering how he had reacted last time they had kissed. However he didn’t wake or seem disturbed, so she slowly unwound her hand from his and turned to leave. However she stopped in her tracks, frozen as a soft croaky voice assaulted her senses “You’re killing me Ginny. How am I supposed to concentrate on anything after that.�

Ginny was almost afraid to turn around in case it had been her imagination, but she forced her self to do so. She felt a powerful swell of emotions building up inside her as she watched Harry struggle to keep his eyes open and focus on her. She rushed back to the bed, picking up his glasses from the bedside table and gently putting them on him.

She carefully hooked them behind his ears and as she withdrew her hand, Harry reached up and captured it in his own, he held it gently, before bringing it his lips and gently kissing her open palm, all the while staring deep into her eyes. It was a simple gesture, yet deeply sensual. Ginny’s senses were reeling yet again. Harry was fighting sleep once again, the last of his energy spent. Ginny gently caressed his hair while his eyelids fluttered closed and he allowed a normal, deep and restful sleep to claim him once again.

As soon as Ginny was sure that he was fully asleep, she quickly went to locate the others in the hospital café. She found Remus sitting quietly on his own, staring into his cup of steaming coffee, lost in his thoughts.

Ginny gently dropped into the chair opposite him and pulled one of his hands into her own. “He woke up Professor. He only stayed awake a moment or two but he woke up and spoke,� she said quietly. She watched the play of emotions across his tired face.

“Thank God, “ he whispered giving Ginny’s hand a squeeze, “You’ve been fantastic Ginny, you’ve been a tower of strength for Harry and for us all. He is a very lucky young man to be able to count you among his friends.� Ginny nodded and blushed, grateful for Lupin’s kind words. She loved the way that he treated her as an equal, not as the youngest Weasley, the baby of the family.

“I need to go tell the others Professor, do you want to come with me?� said Ginny standing and motioning to another table in the café. Remus rose from his seat, looking around to the table that Ginny was gesturing to, but then sat down again, seeming to change his mind.

“That’s okay Ginny, you go tell them yourself, and Ginny, thanks again,� he finished, looking at her sincerely. She nodded and smiled at him before continuing to the other table. Almost immediately Remus could hear the delighted reaction of the others to Ginny’s news. He turned his head to watch them. Ron was hugging Hermione, both looking immensely relieved, Mrs Weasley was just breaking away from Tonks sniffing loudly as she beamed at the others. Tonk’s looked relieved but a little distant, her smile not lasting very long. She quickly resumed her seat at the table and happened to glance his way. He tried to summon a reassuring smile but was only barely able to lift the corners of his mouth. She looked at him for the moment, giving him the briefest of smiles that didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes, before looking away.

Remus sighed. He had hurt her so much, and yet there was no alternative. He was hurting too. If Remus had cared to investigate his feelings fully, he would have appreciated the fact that he was suffering from nothing less than a broken heart.

Over the next few days, Harry managed to stay awake for longer and longer periods, and was even able for visitors as long as they kept their visits short. Dumbledore had called to see him and had explained the parts of what had happened that Harry still didn’t quite understand.

Now Harry realised that the vision he had seen of Sirius, had been a manifestation of his inner fears and guilt combined with his subconscious reacting to being back in Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore was of the opinion that Harry had become affected by the malevolent feelings in Grimmauld Place that had been exacerbated by Hermione’s activities and all of these things had combined to produce the vision Harry had experienced.

Dumbledore was adamant that Harry should understand that Sirius would never have relayed such feelings. He told him once again how much Sirius had loved him and would have done anything for him. Harry had found his tears coming to the surface during that particular conversation like never before. He finally confided in Dumbledore his fear of not being able to complete the enormous task that had befallen him.

Dumbledore had calmly reassured him that time was a great healer, and that he would do all in his power to delay the moment when Harry would have to confront Voldemort. Harry appreciated once again just how much Dumbledore cared for him and he allowed himself the luxury of time to heal and grow.

Harry had dwelt deeply on what Remus had told him about Sirius and Darcy. He didn’t allude to the fact that he had heard every word of that conversation even though he had been unconcious. Somehow, he had the feeling that Remus knew that Harry remembered it all, but was waiting for Harry to be the one to ask any questions, if indeed he had any questions to ask.

Ginny still came to see him daily. Harry knew that all too soon he would have to push her away and concentrate on becoming a wizard with the ability to finally confront the Dark Lord. If he wished to do this, he knew instinctively that he would have to do it on his own, not with his heart torn in two with worry for Ginny.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that by pushing her away he would cease to care for her or anything. He wanted her to be there for him when it was all over, even if he had to sacrifice their time together in the interim. However, for now, he took Dumbledore’s advice and allowed himself to heal and just be.

Now when Ginny came to see him, Harry found it hard to keep his hands to himself, his mind was currently free to wander in the same way as any other teenager, and wander it did! On the third day after he had woken up, Ginny came to visit. Harry had found himself looking forward to this visit for the last number of hours. They talked as always, Ginny sitting curled up on his bed by his knees, Harry sitting up in his bed against a lot of pillows. They found their eyes wandering over each other repeatedly, only to both blush and look away.

Harry finally had had enough, his teenage hormones couldn’t bear the sight of Ginny absentmindedly playing with her hair for one more minute. Before he knew it, he had sat forward in the bed, putting a hand at the base of Ginny’s neck and pulled her towards him. He briefly wondered what vision he would see when they kissed and realised that he didn’t care.

Closing the distance between them quickly, he kissed her intensely, deepening the kiss. No Visions, no thoughts, in fact, Harry felt like his head was full of fog and that the only thing he could see or feel was Ginny.


He felt her respond in kind, moving herself so that her body was pulled closer against his. As their kiss deepened even further, Harry was surprised when Ginny gently pushed him back against the pillows and let her body cover his, as her hands meandered through his hair.

Harry could feel all control slipping away. Crazy feelings were coursing through him, the most obvious one was causing him to feel slightly uncomfortable that Ginny was lying on top of him. Slowly he broke their kiss, not really wanting to but for once trying to listen to the tiny part of his brain that wasn’t starved for blood and contained his last vistages of common sense. They were both panting a little and were both a little red. Ginny looked at him slowly, her eyes slightly closed, her lips swollen from the intensity of their kisses.

She smiled slowly, leaned in to kiss him deeply allowing her tongue to flick along the inside of his upper lip and whispered, “Concentrate on that Mr Potter,� before easing herself off the bed, straightening her clothes and waltzing out the door. Harry lay back and shook his head smiling. Being a teenager wasn’t all that bad really.

As the days passed, Harry’s strength returned, both physically and emotionally. He now had the energy to stay awake for longer and longer periods of time, and used this time to chat with his visitors, or if left alone, to sit back and think about everything that had happened. After he had returned to the Dursley’s for the summer, Harry had been too numb and too hurt to think clearly about his future and about what was expected of him. In the fleeting moments in which he had allowed himself to do so, he had not held any dreams for his own future. All he knew he wanted was to have this terrible burden lifted from him. That was his endgame. He didn’t care for a future of his own. If he managed to defeat the Dark Lord, then all he really wanted to do was disappear permanently from public scrutiny. He saw himself returning to a normal Muggle life, leaving his wizarding side behind him.

A Muggle life could provide him with the anonymity that he so craved. He fantasised about having a normal life, a job, a house to finally call his home. That was where Harry’s dreams for his future ended. It was a dream that did not necessarily contain any happiness for Harry. Harry wasn’t looking for happiness. He was looking for peace of mind, and to his sore and grieving mind, to remove himself from the Magical world seemed to be the only way to achieve that goal.

Now on hindsight, sitting in his hospital bed after all his visitors had left for the day, Harry began to realise that he wanted more. He wanted more for him. He felt an ache within him when he thought of all the love that he should have experienced in his life but which was sorely lacking. He should have known the security of the unconditional love of his parents, and if not them, then the love of the guardians entrusted with his care. Both had been sorely lacking in his young life. Harry felt a deep emotional scar from the sheer neglect of his relatives. It was a scar that had finally begun to heal when Sirius had bounded unexpectedly into his life.

Finally Harry had access to an adult who obviously cared about him and would go to any lengths to protect him. More importantly, Sirius was someone Harry could actually trust enough to talk to. Sirius would have been the one that he could have revealed all his fears about the prophecy and have been sure that Sirius would have comforted him in a way that would have instilled belief in Harry that he could achieve this seemingly insurmountable task that had been dropped into his lap.

More than anything else, Sirius had somehow allowed Harry to unfreeze those emotions that let him love another person as he would have done a parent. His emotional scarring had been ripped right open when Sirius had died, it bled and festered on a daily basis ever since, and Harry wondered would he ever feel like a normal person again, capable of loving without the fear of loss.

Harry knew he needed to talk about things. Not necessarily about the prophecy, but about Sirius, and his life that Harry had known so little about. Lupin had seemed to guess that this was on Harry’s mind, and had made himself available to Harry when no one else was around so that Harry would have the opportunity to ask questions should he wish. Lupin could see the questions burning in Harry’s eyes, but knew that to push Harry into talking would possibly do more harm than good, so he patiently waited until Harry himself felt ready to begin the discussion.

He had been sitting quietly by Harry’s side one afternoon quietly reading the Daily Prophet. The others had returned to Grimmauld Place for a few hours rest, allowing Harry and Lupin to spend some time alone. Lupin had noted from the corner of his eye, Harry’s constant fidgeting and regular glances he was throwing at Remus. He was trying to build himself up to say something and Remus knew he needed to wait quietly until Harry managed it.

“Why, Remus. Why didn’t you try to convince him to love again?� The words had burst forth from Harry mid sentence as if the conversation had been going on in his head, but midway through, his mouth had involuntarily sprung into action. Harry seemed almost surprised to hear the words coming from his own mouth.

Remus had looked up sharply on hearing Harry speak. He didn’t need to ask what Harry was talking about. Thoughts of Sirius and his life had been swimming around in Lupin’s head for days now, and he found himself asking the same question at times.

He sighed, slowly folding his newspaper before giving Harry his full attention. “Harry, could you ever see me managing to convince Sirius of anything? He was stubborn and independent and pig-headed and obstinate and the best friend I could ever have asked for,� he finished quietly.

“He pushed me to expect more from myself, never allowing me to sit back and hide because of what I am. He CONSTANTLY berated me for not allowing anyone close, while seeming to be blind to the fact that he was doing the very same thing himself.

“Believe me Harry, I did try to convince him. Darcy’s death occurred about a year before you were born. James and Lily got married soon afterwards. Obviously I wasn’t going to push him while he was still grieving, and we both know that a year isn’t a long time when you are trying to deal with that kind of loss.

“Before I knew it, another year had slipped by, you were now a bouncing baby, and the apple of your godfather’s eye. The war had reached dangerous new levels, and survival, not finding love was the main objective. Of course then Sirius was sent to Azkaban,� Remus sighed rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Love, it seemed would have to take a backseat for an even longer period of time. When finally Sirius returned to Grimmauld Place, he and I finally had a chance to sit down and talk about everything. His feelings on the subject of love had not changed unfortunately. I couldn’t even broach the subject without him tensing up. I tried to make him see, tried to make him understand that he wouldn’t always be on the run. Someday he would have the opportunity to make a life for himself, a normal life, complete with wife and kids. Something that I could never have.�

Harry watched the pain in Lupin’s eyes with sadness realising for the first time just how truly alone Lupin was.

“However, Sirius was unmovable on the point. It was perhaps his greatest weakness. Harry, Sirius was unable to open himself up to the possibility of hurting like that ever again. He should have been able to let someone in, but couldn’t.

“The only one that freely claimed a piece of his heart after Darcy died was you, Harry. I can still picture Sirius holding you when you were a baby, telling you all the plans he had for you… all the scrapes you were likely to get into together,� Remus said, laughing gently.

“I remember just how proud he was of you when he heard from Mundungus about you having founded an illegal Defence against the Dark Arts Group. He sat at the table at Grimmauld Place while Mundungus reported back on the meeting he had overheard between you and the other students in Hogsmeade. He had this immense look of pride on his face. It wasn’t just then, Harry. Every conversation that we had about you, about the simple things like Quidditch and what a great flyer you are. It filled him with pride. He was proud of you and was honoured to call you his Godson. He may never have managed to love another woman, but don’t think that Sirius wasn’t capable of love, Harry, because he loved you. He loved you with all his heart.� Sirius finished quietly, his voice filled with emotion.

Harry smiled through the wall of tears coursing down his face. He understood completely why Sirius had pushed away from love and closed his heart. Slowly Harry began to understand why Remus had told him the story of Sirius and Darcy. The parallels were too obvious to ignore. Harry felt a little panicked, wondering if Remus was going to force him to stay close to Ginny.

Harry roughly dried his tears looking at Remus, “I’m not Sirius. I can see why he did what he did, but I’m not him. I don’t want to not have love in my life Remus, but right now, its just too hard, “ he whispered shaking his head.

“I need to be able to focus on defeating Voldemort. It’s hard enough worrying about all of you to begin with. Right now Remus, I can’t let myself love someone. But unlike Sirius I want to be able to do so when this is all over.�

Remus leaned over, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You will, Harry. You will have love and happiness and a home to call your own. Everything that life has denied you so far. We are facing into dark times, Harry. More will die, death may come to some of those we know and love, but you will triumph. Light will overcome darkness and you will know the meaning of happiness.�

Harry looked at Remus through his tears, “I don’t know how to ask you this Remus, you have done so much for me already. I was wondering would it be okay to come to you if I have any questions, or…well…. things I need to talk about? It’s just, Sirius, well I could talk to Sirius and now I feel like I have no one. I need someone, an adult to trust to help me through this,� Harry finished in a whisper, his head hanging not daring to meet Lupin’s gaze.

Lupin forced Harry to look at him as he answered, “Harry, I’m honoured that you trust me. Anything you ever need to talk about, I wont be far away.�

Harry smiled weakly. Remus nodded, and said quietly, “I understand your inability to get close to someone at the moment, unfortunately there are more pressing matters that must be brought to a close before your life can really begin. However, be warned, Ginny will not take it lightly. She will not want you to push her away, even though I believe she expects you to do it. Therefore you must be gentle, Harry, and honest. Talk to her, just like you talked to me. Give her the belief of that light that will come at the end of the darkness.�

Harry nodded slowly, wondering once again at Remus’s ability to say just to the right thing, to understand him so well. Then again, Harry realised they weren’t that different in many respects.

“Any what about you Remus? Will you let her in?� Harry asked looking at Lupin shrewdly. Lupin’s eyes widened at the question, but he could see from Harry’s look that denial was pointless. Somehow Harry had managed to discern from his hospital bed what all the others hadn’t even noticed.

Lupin shook his head slowly. “I let her in already, Harry and in those few moments she captured my heart and took it with her when I pushed her away. Some say that the risk would be worth it, they obviously don’t understand what it is like when the ‘risk’ in question is an out-of-control werewolf. She has my heart, Harry. She always will. However she cannot share my life,� Lupin finished quietly, his voice laced with determination.

Harry just shrugged, “Perhaps not now Remus, but maybe when the darkness recedes, you will rethink you decision.�

Remus stood and shrugged on his cloak, he turned and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Perhaps,� he whispered almost to himself and he turned to leave the ward.

The days that followed Harry and Lupin’s discussion were some of the most relaxed that Harry had enjoyed that summer. His mind still strayed constantly to the prophecy and to how he would ever broach the subject with his friends.

However Harry made the decision to stop worrying about it, he felt that when the time was right he would just know and until then, there was no point in worrying about it. His friends had ensured that everything he would need for the coming school term had been purchased in Diagon Alley and now lay neatly stacked in his trunk in Grimmauld Place. As the time drew closer to September 1st, Harry found himself looking forward to it with trepidation. He was now fully recovered but had stayed at St. Mungo’s as the Order had judged it easier to safeguard him there.

He didn’t like the thought of leaving the safety of the hospital. He would miss the feeling of security the quiet hospital ward had given him, but knew that it was time to start training for the battle in earnest.

Dumbledore had been to see him a number of times. They had sat down and discussed the best way for Harry to train in order to gain the necessary strength and knowledge that would be needed to face and defeat the Dark Lord. Harry marvelled at Dumbledore’s quiet trust in his ability. It filled him with a self-belief that he was sorely lacking. He started to believe that with Dumbledore and Remus’s support, he might just stand a fighting chance.

Ginny had been conspicuous by her absence of late. The others told him that she was busy getting ready for the return to school, but Harry knew exactly why she was reticent to come and visit him. Ron and Hermione had not questioned him about what was going on between himself and Ginny. Ginny’s absence from his side over the last number of days had been obvious even to Ron. But Ron and Hermione were happily oblivious to most things these days and didn’t question it. Only Remus and Dumbledore seemed to truly realise that there was much more between Harry and Ginny than the others realised. But they kept this knowledge to themselves, knowing that Harry wouldn’t welcome the questioning that would arise if the others truly knew.

Harry was up and about, fully dressed, sitting in a chair on the ward reading one of his course books. It was the 30th of August and something told him that Ginny would have to call and see him today. He had been attempting to study his new charms book for an hour now, but found himself staring at the door more often than staring at the book.

Eventually after an hour, he gave up and walked to the window to look out. It was a beautiful sunny day, but didn’t do much to raise Harry’s spirits. The thought of having to hurt Ginny, even if it was truly necessary was plaguing him. He stared into the blue sky spotted with clouds and let his mind wander. He never heard the ward door open and close quietly as he stood there lost in his thoughts.

It was the hair standing up on the nape of Harry’s neck that first alerted him to someone else’s presence. He didn’t need to turn to know that the presence was unwelcome. Stealthily he withdrew his hand from his pocket without turning around, his fingers tightly grasping his wand. Harry hadn’t done any magic since the Dementor attack, while everyone told him that there would be no lasting effects, he still felt rather weak and the Healer had recommended he take it easy to let his magical reserves build up.

Now Harry knew that if his magical levels were depleted that this fight wasn’t going to last any length of time. Thoughts flashed through his mind in those milliseconds of time Where were the Aurors that were guarding his room? How had someone just slipped in unnoticed? What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Time was up, Harry knew he wanted to be facing whatever was coming. No spell was going to hit him in the back. He was going to fight. Wand raised, he whipped around, coming face to face with the tip of a long dark wand, his eyes travelled slowly up the wand, along the fingers and arm and shoulder of the person wielding it, finally coming to rest on the dark, insane eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.


Harry felt like time had slowed, he felt strangely removed from his surroundings as though he and the Death Eater in front of him existed in some strange bubble, invisible and removed from the hospital ward. Harry was almost tempted to look around him to confirm that they were still standing in the middle of a ward at St Mungo’s but he dared not take his eyes of the woman in front of him.

She stared at him intently. She seemed to be drinking in every detail of his face, his very presence.

Neither moved nor spoke. Harry had the vague impression that Bella had never imagined getting this far and the fact that she had done so, seemed to throw her a little. She did not seem sure of what to do next. ‘She could have killed me six times over by now,’ Harry thought. ‘What is holding her back?’

For some reason Harry felt calm and centred as he stood facing the woman who had murdered Sirius. It was as if a deep well of power seemed to be building within him. The sight of Bella and flicked a switch in his brain, lighting up all his happy memories of Sirius, causing them to replay over and over again in his mind. Unlike previous times when Harry would have felt all the pain and sorrow of Sirius’s loss begin to overwhelm him causing him to want to avenge that loss, the memories now seemed to be fuelling his calm, allowing him to think and plan easily despite his precarious situation. Harry didn’t want revenge. Harry wanted justice.

Bella seemed to be rousing herself from her initial surprise and began to laugh, that hard biting laugh that Harry remembered so well from the Department of Mysteries. She did not seem to be bothered with keeping her voice down, and Harry suspected that the room had been placed in a Silencing Charm. He assumed that she had also charmed the door to prevent it being forced from outside. He could tell from her face that she wanted this play to go through uninterrupted. This was between Bellatrix and Harry and there would be no last minute rescues.

Rather than panicking him, that thought seemed to steady his nerve even more. He could feel the power continue to build within him, he could feel it radiating through his fingers. Harry was ready to fulfil his promise to Sirius.

“Did you think you would never see me again Baby Potter? Little Baby Potter. Did you think that after everything that happened I would walk away and let someone else deny me the pleasure that is rightly mine? The pleasure to watch you scream in agony before you die?� Bella asked, moving away from Harry slightly, her wand still trained on his heart.

Harry had winced slightly at her words. It was the way she pronounced them. She would indeed feel pleasured in meting out pain to him.

“I couldn’t let that happen Baby Potter,� she continued, “you were mine, mine to deal with and play with and dispose of. I will not be disappointed.�

“I dunno Bella, you might want to double check with Voldemort, “Harry said, thinking on his feet, trying to buy himself some time. “ I think he has first pick when it comes to me, don’t you agree? Or maybe he doesn’t know you are here. Maybe Bella decided to do things her way without her master’s approval. Tut, tut, I don’t think he is going to be very happy with you Bella, now is he? Shall I let him know you are here? I haven’t tried before, but this,� Harry said, pointing to his scar, “allows me to connect to his mind sometimes. How about we give him a little update of your current whereabouts Bella?� Harry asked calmly circling around Bellatrix, his wand never wavering from hers. She turned slowly to keep him in front of her. He could see her waxy skin pale even more on hearing his words, and it confirmed to Harry that Bella was working independent of Lord Voldemort.

This was both good and bad news. It meant that he was not likely to be swamped with any more death eaters at the moment and dragged off for a final show down with the Dark Lord, however it also meant that Bellatrix would have to ensure that she finished the job. The Dark Lord may forgive her disobedience, if it meant the death of Harry Potter. Anything less would mean Bella would be punished perhaps even killed. Harry knew it and so did Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Silence, Baby Potter. You are a slow learner. I will just have to try and teach you to behave once again won’t I? She snapped in a hard voice, raising her wand a little higher.
Crucio.�

Harry’s reflexes were good, but a little rusty from his time in hospital, he didn’t manage to duck and roll fast enough to avoid the curse. The familiar feeling of every nerve being snapped and torn from his body overtook him mid-roll. He could hear the screams coming from his body, unable to stop himself, his mind lost in the agony of the seemingly ever-lasting Cruciatus curse.

It must have been three, four, five minutes before she lifted her wand, her eyes were half closed, a look of ecstasy and pleasure etched on her waxy face. Harry had never endured if for so long, his mind was reeling from the pain, his body racked with shakes and trembles. He struggled to roll on to his hands and knees, desperately trying to enforce calm on his tortured mind and body. A few deep breaths and he felt that well of power seeming to pulse deep within him. Harry had no idea where is came from. His wand had rolled away from him to the feet of his torturer yet this didn’t seem to worry him.

Bella was still revelling in the pleasure that the torture had brought her. Harry quickly opened his hand and whispered, “Accio Wand.� It soared into his waiting fingers, eliciting a gasp of surprise and anger from Bellatrix.

“Diffindo,� she roared in anger, causing Harry to roll away again in the hopes of missing the curse, he felt it slice along his side, from neck to hip but didn’t wait to see his injuries, he quickly stood, vaguely aware of the warm liquid pouring down his side. He had had enough.

With his wand in his left hand he quickly raised a shield to protect himself and instantly felt the pressure as spell after spell hit it and rebounded away. The power seemed to seep through him to his very finger tips, without even considering what he was doing Harry raised his empty right hand, his open palm facing Bellatrix and pushed at the air between her and him.

Instantly Bell was lifted of her feet and flung against the wall. She shrieked in surprise and she slid down the wall to the ground, quickly getting to her feet and throwing another slashing curse at Harry. The combined effort of wand and wandless magic caused his shield to flutter and die, the curse hit him along his chest, causing him to scream in agony as his chest was slit open and began to ooze blood. Once again he was thrown to the ground, his wand disappearing over one of the beds as he fell.

He found it hard to breathe and began to weaken from the prolonged battle. Every nerve, bone and fibre ached. His glasses were cracked and smeared with blood. He desperately looked for a means of escape but found none. He could hear Bella’s ragged breathing as she slowly approached him, her wand aimed directly at his heart, and he knew that this was it.

As though time had slowed, Harry let the pictures of his parents and Sirius come to his mind and flood his memories. He remembered what Lupin had said about how much Sirius cared for him, how he had loved and played with him when he was a baby. He remembered telling Lupin how he wanted more from his life, how he wanted to love and be loved. How he wanted desperately to be normal and not be hunted.

The power bubbled deep within Harry, a deep magical force combined and made stronger by his yearning to survive and live a normal life. ‘Their sacrifice will not have been in vain,’ he thought. He raised his bloodshot face to face his torturer and felt the power surge from deep within him down to his palms. Without moving he looked Bella in the eye and said calmly “It ends now Bella. This isn’t your destiny. Finish it now, give up and turn yourself in.� His words had barely died in his throat as her harsh laughter filled the room, bouncing and echoing of the walls.

“Baby Potter, I do believe you are a lot crazier than even I! I stand here before you, with my wand trained on your heart. You lie there bleeding into the carpet and tell me that it is not my destiny to finish you off? That it is not my destiny to give my Master the Ultimate Gift? Who on earth is going to stop me?�

“I gave you a chance Bella, but you refused to listen. You give me no choice,� Harry finished in a resigned tone.

Without saying anything else, he raised his empty right hand and pushed once again and the air between them. Bellatrix was raised high into the air and slammed against the wall, the force causing the plaster to crack and splinter. Harry heard the sickening crack of bone on stone. He did not move his hand, holding Bella in position against the wall. He watched her eyes lose all emotion and life as they continued to stare openly at him. Slowly Harry lowered his hand, sliding Bella down the wall to the floor where she lay silent and unmoving and unmistakably dead.

The moment her life force had left her, a cracking sound was heard, the sound of the spells she had placed on the ward being broken. Harry held consciousness long enough to register the people who dashed though the door, wands raised. He held consciousness long enough to look down and note the large red pool of blood spreading out beneath him. He remained conscious long enough to feel Ginny take his face in her hands and stare into his eyes as her tears fell. He raised a bloodstained finger to her cheek before finally letting darkness claim him.

Harry felt himself slowly return to consiousness. If he could have laughed he probably would have, at the irony of having a battle to the death just feet from his hospital bed. ‘At least The Healers were on hand,’ he thought wryly. He could hear voices and struggled into a state of greater alertness so that he could make out what they were saying.

“Professor, it could be days before he wakes up. He lost so much blood. I honestly don’t know how he managed to continue the fight at all. I think it will be weeks before he is fit to return to school. You can’t expect him to just go back as if none of this had happened. You just cant,� a voice said.

“Remus, it is imperative that he returns there as soon as possible. You know this as well as I do. Today Harry nearly died. He cannot be protected outside of Hogwarts. He must be returned there,� another voice said, one that Harry recognised as Dumbledore’s.

Harry heard it from a distance, only one part of it making any impression on his brain and that was the word ‘Today’. At least he knew he had not lost any time. It was still the 30th of August. He forced his weary eyes to open, despite the protests of his mind and struggled to focus on the room in front of him.

He heard the audible gasp that his sudden consciousness caused and was relieved when someone had the foresight to place his glasses on his face so that he could focus. He looked up to see that it was Remus who was gently adjusting his glasses behind his ears, his eyes full of worry and concern. Harry could feel the rippling of pain barely contained throughout his body but forced his mind to look beyond it and focus instead on the people standing around him.

He could sense their despair and helplessness at what he had just endured. He sensed that they didn’t understand just how momentous the events of the day had really been. His friends and guardians merely looked at this as yet another battle that Harry had faced alone A battle that he should have been spared had they all been more vigilant. But they could not have been more wrong.

He wanted to ask for help to sit up but at first found it hard to get the words out. Remus seemed to notice his distress and moved immediately to help him into a sitting position in the hospital bed. Harry couldn’t help the hiss of pain that issued from him on moving but felt rather surprised and relieved that it was bearable.

He waited a moment to catch his breath and allow his heart rate to level off, all the while taking in the worried glances of his friends gathered there with him.

“She is dead,� he stated, his voice husky and dry from his recent lack of consciousness. Dumbledore nodded slowly. Harry sighed in acceptance. “I’m not sorry. I’m not the only one she hurt. Neville lost his parents. Who knows how many more people suffered at her hands But still, I offered her a chance to surrender,� Harry said quietly, not meeting the eyes of his audience.

“I offered her a chance and she laughed at me. She was consumed by hate and by Voldemort and nothing was going to change that. I don’t want anyone feeling guilty or feeling responsible for her gaining access to me here. She was determined and nothing was going to stop her,� he said.

They still remained silent, waiting for Harry to continue. Mrs. Weasley desperately wanted to hug him and settle him down under his blankets with a dreamless sleep potion, but one look at the blazing determination in his face told her that now was not the time. To her, he seemed to have aged an inordinate amount in the last few hours. It was as if the last remnants of childhood had been shed, replaced by a young man who looked driven with purpose. The others had noticed the change too. His injuries were severe, but already he looked like someone who had been recovering for a number of days, not merely hours.

Harry finally finished perusing the blankets on his bed and raised his eyes to look at his friends. He desperately needed them to understand. “I did not kill Bella out of a need for revenge. I would have avoided killing her if at all possible. But it was going to be either her or me. Just like it will be either me or Voldemort. We both can’t survive.� At this, Ginny, Ron and Hermione looked at each other but didn’t interrupt.

Harry continued, “I have always worried that I wouldn’t be able to successfully use the killing curse against Voldemort. But today, when my back was to the wall and the only option I had was to kill or be killed, I found a way.�

He looked slowly from Remus to Dumbledore, to Mrs and Mr Weasley, Tonks, finally resting his eyes on his three friends. When he spoke, his voice was calm and full of confidence. His eyes burning with a belief that fuelled confidence in those who heard him speak. “I’m going to fight. He’s not going to win easily.�

He stood at the window, in an almost identical position to that in which he had stood the previous day prior to Bellatrix Lestrange’s attack. His posture was not as straight as it had been then. He seemed to be holding himself carefully, his arm resting protectively over his bandaged side. He was dressed and looked better than he ought to, for someone who had almost been killed less than 24 hours earlier.

Ginny stood watching Harry quietly. She took in his stance, no longer looking defeated but thoughtful and focused. She liked the way that his messy hair seemed at odds with his mental focus. She knew she would probably need to explain why she had not been to see him. She felt annoyed with herself that she had chosen the coward’s way out by avoiding coming to see Harry.

She felt slightly awed at the boy standing in front of her. He had fought to the death literally and now stood waiting to go back to Hogwarts, just like any other normal student. To an outsider, he merely looked like a teenager that had suffered some illness or accident and was preparing himself to leave hospital and return to his school, ready to tell his friends the tale of the misadventure that led to his stay in St. Mungo’s. To an outsider who didn’t understand and know of the history of Harry Potter, this would seem like a reasonable surmission. Only to an Outsider would a normal explanation of why Harry Potter found himself once again recovering from grievous injuries be acceptable.

Now that she was there, she wondered would he notice if she turned and tip toed from the room. Some small part of her mind liked to think that if she didn’t give him an opportunity to push her away, then everything would be okay.

Another part of her knew that she would eventually have to speak to Harry about what was going on between them. She now had an opportunity to do so in private, something that would be sorely lacking once they returned to Hogwarts.

She slowly moved towards Harry, snaking her arms around his waist and hugging him gently from behind. She felts his hands intertwine with hers, then he turned and pulled her into his arms, hugging her to him, allowing himself to feel her close to him for one last time. She knew the pain he was feeling, both physically and emotionally. Ginny had never planned on making it easy for him to push her away. But as she gently held him to her and breathed in the earthy smell that was so Harry, her resolve melted.

She slowly pulled away so that she could look into his eyes. “You already know, don’t you Gin?� he whispered. “You already know that I can’t be with you, that I can’t let this continue?�

His eyes bored into hers, it would have been easier to look away, it might even have made saying what he was saying an ounce less painful. But Harry didn’t take the easy way out. He looked deep into the eyes of the young girl before him and allowed himself to feel the pain that he was putting her through, mingling with his own grief at having to push away his one source of comfort.

Ginny looked at him, she knew that her eyes had begun to fill with tears as the heartache of hearing those inevitable words began to fill her soul. She nodded slowly, blinking another few large teardrops down her cheeks. She had not moved away from him but knew she would need to do so soon, if she were to stop herself from remonstrating with him, but not yet. She needed to be close to him just once more, to ingrain upon her memory the feeling of Harry’s arms around her, the feeling of his hair on her fingers.

She pulled him close, lowering his head so that his forehead rested against hers. “I know Harry,� she whispered, “just hold me once again, for the last time.� He acqueised without an argument, pulling her gently once more into his embrace, kissing her forehead before lowering his head and kissing her gently one last time. He had not realised he could feel such an acute sense of loss at the thought of releasing Ginny Weasley from his arms, and the feeling frightened him. He held her like that, feeling her fingers gently course through the hair at the nape of his neck. There was no need to talk.

Neither of them noticed Mrs.Weasley and Remus, slip quietly from the room. Slowly, Harry released Ginny, and moved back a little from her. He knew the pain he was causing to both of them and it took all his willpower not to change his mind. Ginny looked at him through tear leaden lashes. Leaning towards him she whispered in his ear, “Until the final battle is over.� Her final kiss lingered against Harry’s lips, when she parted she turned immediately and left the room, finding herself unable to look in those eyes, not until she had got control of her emotions.

Harry waited for the lump to recede in his throat. He waited for the tears to dry on his cheeks and waited for no more to leak from his eyes. He waited for the burning grief to settle into a more regular pattern in his soul. As he gradually reigned in his turmoil of emotions, he stood a little straighter, and raised his eyes from their perusal of the hospital carpet.

Then leaning down, he picked up the cage containing Hedgwig and muttered an incantation to levitate his trunk. Taking one last look around the room that had been both his refuge and his battlefield, Harry turned and walked away. Platform Nine and Three Quarters beckoned. It was time to begin another year.

Remus watched Harry saunter slowly and carefully towards the wall between Platform’s Nine and Ten and could already feel his shoulders sag with a welcome relief as he disappeared onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

September had begun. The security that Hogwarts offered was second-to-none. While he would be taking up a post in Hogwarts once again, and would be able to personally keep an eye on Harry, it was still a relief to know that Dumbledore would be close by should the need arise. Lupin knew that the more eyes that were trained on Harry’s welfare the better.

He imagined Sirius’s reaction to what Harry had endured during the summer. Sirius would have kicked his butt for not preventing Harry from going through all of that and Remus knew it. He knew he wasn’t to blame for all that had happened but still wished he could undo it somehow.

He still felt proud every time he remembered the conversation he and Mrs Weasley had overheard between Harry and Ginny. Remus had been amazed at just how eloquent and honest Harry had been. He knew for a fact that when he had been Harry’s age he was by no means as mature as Harry seemed to be. Then again, he had not had to endure as much as Harry had in his fifteen years. Harry had been forced into maturity at such an early age by such tragic circumstances.

As much as he didn’t like to admit it, he had been forced to take several deep steadying breaths after witnessing that particular conversation. The lump in his throat had prevented him from doing anything more than silently comforting Mrs. Weasley as best he could. Mrs. Weasley wasn’t angry with Harry or Ginny. She was upset by the blatant proof that her little girl was growing up and was old enough to love a boy with all her heart. She finally had to admit that she couldn’t protect Ginny any longer. She would have to accept that Ginny was now well on her way to becoming a young woman.

Remus secretly wondered if even now, he were that eloquent. He still found himself wincing when he though back on his conversation and rejection of Nymphadora, and he wondered yet again had he handled the whole situation well? Had he made the right decision?

Ron and Hermione stood hand in hand after they had said goodbye to their parents. They could see the tension on Harry’s face as he watched for Ginny’s appearance through the barrier. They watched the play of emotions on his face turn from tension, to relief, to sadness before being masked deep within his green eyes as he watched Ginny’s progress through the crowd towards her mother and brothers.

He had deliberately separated himself from the Weasley’s in order to spare Ginny any unease. Instead he had wandered over to where Rupin stood alone. Together they watched Mr and Mrs. Weasley’s emotional and affectionate parting with their children in silence.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t comment on what she had witnessed between Ginny and Harry. The only sign that she knew was the way in which she hugged Ginny to her for longer than any others at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the way she had unquestioningly brushed away Ginny’s tears and comforted her in the way that only a mother could.

Fred and George had accompanied them to the train station as well. They added a certain amount of chaos, amusement and general noise that was necessary to relieve the tense atmosphere generated by the separation of parents and children at a time of war.

Lupin watched for Tonk’s appearance. She would be accompanying them on the Hogwart’s express. He tried to look disinterested when she did appear, but on catching Harry’s eye, he knew that he had failed. Harry smiled, sighed and shook his head at the older man. It was pointless arguing the point. Remus would need to realise in this own time that you can’t push away love. Even if Remus didn’t know it, Harry did and so he didn’t despair for Remus and Tonks, if it were meant to be, the stubborn ways of a certain werewolf weren’t going to stand in its way.

Mrs Weasley had waited for Ginny to climb on board the Hogwarts Express before turning to Harry. She could see the confusion in his eyes as he struggled to think of a way to explain everything to this woman what he had done and why he had done it. She could see the pain in his eyes of having hurt Ginny and himself by finishing their budding relationship.

Without a word she pulled the boy into her arms and hugged him tightly. As she released him from her embrace, she whispered, “I know you wouldn’t hurt her intentionally Harry, so stop worrying. You did what you needed to do.� She didn’t need an answer from Harry. The look of relief on his face that she understood was worth a thousand words.

Slowly Harry turned and climbed the steps of the train after Ron and Hermione. He turned to watch Mrs Weasley, sandwiched between Fred and George wave them away from the Platform.

The train chugged and smoked and whistled it way out of the station and onwards to yet another year of magic and memories. Harry kept looking out the window and back towards where the platform was, even though it was no longer visible and the view had turned into a wide expanse of open countryside and trees. He allowed the tears, which had been threatening to overcome him to dry in his throat. Bit by bit he locked away his memories and feelings for Ginny. He knew they would be kept safe in his mind and in his heart. Safely locked away until the war ended and he would be safe to love again. Once the key had been securely hidden in his soul, Harry turned and walked into the nearest carriage to join his friends.