Abracadabra by DrTaylor
Summary: Harry dreams about Dumbledore, and discovers something disturbing. My first fic. Be gentle, please.





I know everyone says it, but please review! I love to see them!





Sheeee's back! And she's better than ever because her story is already complete!
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Character Death, Violence
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 13 Completed: No Word count: 20801 Read: 38457 Published: 11/28/05 Updated: 06/26/07

1. A New Dream by DrTaylor

2. Goodbye to You by DrTaylor

3. Hogwarts by DrTaylor

4. Disagreements by DrTaylor

5. Amateur Psychology by DrTaylor

6. Return of the Broom Shed by DrTaylor

7. The Wedding to End All Weddings by DrTaylor

8. Slytherin by DrTaylor

9. Coming of Age by DrTaylor

10. Godric's Hollow by DrTaylor

11. Seventh Year by DrTaylor

12. All Hallows Eve by DrTaylor

13. The Wait by DrTaylor

A New Dream by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Harry dreams about Dumbledore and is forced to ask some very disturbing questions.
Ha! It's mine, all mine! I will own the Harry Potter characters and use them for my own evil ends!




No, wait, I won't.

When we left off, our hero was in the horns of a dilemma. Left alone in the world, without any of his former protectors, Harry is faced with the biggest challenge of his life – finding and defeating the four remaining Horcruxes and, of course, Lord Voldemort.





The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Ravenclaw’s or Gryffindor’s, Harry thought to himself, as he had, constantly, since the death of Albus Dumbledore. The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Ravenclaw’s or Gryffindor’s…





He needed to sleep, but could not. Dreams didn’t bother him, but he sat up all night, wondering about the locations of the objects he had to find.





In the sleeping bag on the floor next to the bed, Ron Weasley grunted in his sleep. Ron, not having to do what Harry would soon have to be doing, could sleep just fine with no problems. Harry, however, was kept awake by his own plans – or lack thereof. The truth was, he had no idea what to do after this time was over. He had slept occasionally, but he knew that remaining in Privet Drive would not be an option much longer, because he honestly couldn’t stomach the concept. He had eaten there every day, spent time with Ron and Hermione, visited Mrs. Figg, and hexed Dudley (with two overage wizards living in his home, the Ministry hadn’t been able to suss out who was responsible, nor did they really care once they met Dudley.)





But in truth, he was more lost than he had ever felt before. Ron’s brother Bill’s wedding was only a week away – Harry knew they would have to leave the Dursleys before then, because he couldn’t stand it anymore. Then where would they go? Not to Godric’s Hollow – he wanted to save that particular trip for after the happy times. Not the Burrow either – living in the same house as Ginny Weasley, the girl Harry would do anything to be able to be close to, would be torture for Harry right then. He didn’t have any other close friends in whose homes he would feel welcome. The only other option was the house he actually owned – number twelve, Grimmauld Place – and he couldn’t stand the thought of living there, where Sirius had spent his last
year cooped up.





So, instead, he focused on his mission. The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Ravenclaw’s or Gryffindor’s…





But if he let himself think about this mission for too long, he kept thinking of all the reasons behind his mission, all the deaths and torturing he had failed to prevent. Harry felt guilty about quite a few things these days. He felt guilty for the deaths of those near to him: Sirius, Dumbledore, his parents, and Cedric Diggory. He felt guilty for the danger he was putting Ron and Hermione in, and the fact that he had left Ginny behind. He even felt guilty for planning to kill a fellow human being, even if it was just Voldemort.





Intellectually, Harry knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for this. None of it had been caused by him, after all. But he hadn’t ended the war in time to save some of the most important people in his life, and it was beginning to get to him. Harry suspected some of his depression came from being cooped up in this house, again, knowing what he needed to do, but being unable to get started for his own protection, watching the Daily Prophets pile up with the names of new victims of Voldemort appearing every day. It was enough to make anyone insane.





All in all, this was still the best summer of his life so far. The Dursleys were all so terrified of Ron and Hermione that the house bent to their wills, and it was the last time Harry would ever have to be there. Voldemort was on his way to defeat, and Harry had plans for his future afterward.





Ron grunted again.





Harry looked over at his best friend and smiled slightly. Having Ron and Hermione here was a mixed blessing at best. He delighted in having his friends nearby and in the reactions of the Dursleys to their presence, but he also feared that they would be mistreated by his “family,” or that keeping them close to him would put them in greater danger than they already were.





He had to stop thinking about this. It would only bring nightmares…and Harry was sick of the nightmares. Sometimes he thought that he would rather die than have another one. Then he felt guilty for that, because his nightmares had occasionally proven useful.





As exhaustion overcame him, he drifted off to sleep….





Severus, please… echoed the voice of Albus Dumbledore. And then a blast of green light, and the graceful arc Dumbledore’s body had made as it fell from the tower… Severus, please… again, the scene of Dumbledore’s death played in Harry’s brain. He lay still, forced to watch, over and over… until finally, he knew it by heart, the sound of Snape crying, “Avada Kedavra!” and the way Dumbledore had stared into Snape’s cold, hate-filled eyes…





Suddenly, the dream shifted. Dumbledore froze in place, but Snape turned to Harry, and though he was on the Astronomy tower, he was also in his dungeon, lecturing about techniques involved in Occlumency. “Eye contact is often essential in Legilimency,” he told Harry. Dumbledore began moving again, and the scene continued.





And Harry suddenly understood. As he understood, he saw it¸ something between the two combatants, almost like a visual echo, a line of light between Snape and Dumbledore.





He awoke with a start. He could only think of one reason why he would see what he had just seen, but it was absolutely bizarre. Could it be true? Did Snape act on his own, or by a command from Dumbledore? For the first time, Harry examined his memory of Snape that night, looking for a hint of Snape’s motive, forcing himself to consider Snape’s look of hatred in light of his own emotions, remembering how it had felt to tip the potion down Dumbledore’s throat, asking himself how he would feel if asked to kill Dumbledore… and realized he was at a loss.





The evidence supported either conclusion, but Harry knew that he was missing something about that night. And he decided, then and there, that the place to begin looking was not Voldemort’s old haunts or the records Dumbledore had left behind, but with Severus Snape and the events surrounding Dumbledore’s death.


Back to index
Goodbye to You by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
What was in that letter Dumbledore left for the Dursleys, anyway?
I do not own this. It owns me. And JKR owns it. Does that mean JKR owns me?



The next morning was as dull as every morning had been since Voldemort went public. The sky was clear, but the day was cool and a bit of fog was clear on the ground. Harry went downstairs when he heard his aunt and uncle wake up. He followed the sound of their voices downstairs, and paused outside the door – he had reached the decision the night before.



He was leaving.



Ron and Hermione would, of course, be going with him. He didn’t know where to, but he knew he could not remain here, in this nonhome, another night. He had stayed here for more than the amount of time he had over the last summer – according to what Dumbledore had told him, he was protected from Voldemort until his birthday. His time in this place had served its purpose.



And now it was over.



He opened the kitchen door. The familiar sight of his aunt and uncle greeted him. I wonder if I’ll ever miss them. “Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon? Can we talk for a moment?”



Vernon Dursley turned his beady eyes on Harry and scowled. “I suppose your…friends will hex me if I say no? Get on with it, boy!” Vernon was fairly distraught because Harry had hexed Dudley in front of him a week or so ago. Harry had decided on a Jelly-Legs Curse long ago. Dudley, who was a little on the dim-witted side, had thought it was another Dementor attack. The screaming had been well worth it, especially since Uncle Vernon had avoided Harry like the plague whenever possible ever since.



As painful as this conversation would be, it had to be done. “I wanted to thank you,” Harry said, “for taking me in. I know that by doing it, you saved my life. If you had sent me to an orphanage, I would have been killed long ago. I owe you for that.



“So, I wanted to thank you before I leave for good. The protection my mum left in my blood won’t last much longer, and I have things to do. I’m grateful to you for saving my life, and I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience.”



Harry turned to leave, but…



“Harry,” Aunt Petunia said, “there is something you should know.” Harry was shocked. Aunt Petunia was speaking as though she liked him. “Your mother and I were not exactly the Muggles you always thought we were. Our parents were both Squibs. I think, deep down, they preferred her because she was everything they had failed to become – she was a very powerful witch, you know. They were killed years ago, before Lily got married, in a car crash – as I told you your parents were killed – and since I was your mother’s closest living relative, I got you. But that…Dumbledore…was your great-uncle. I think it’s time you saw the note he left me with you. She walked to a cupboard and pulled out an envelope. Turning to Harry, she said, “Good luck,” and then touched his face briefly. Then she returned to the now-burning breakfast on the stove, and Harry knew he would never see any affection from her again. With a last, silent, goodbye, he left the kitchen.







Petunia,



As sorry as I am to resort to these methods, I cannot allow this issue to proceed through the proper legal channels. This is your nephew, Harry. He was born to your sister and her husband on July 31 of last year, a month or so after your own son. I know that what I ask will be difficult for you, but your sister and her husband died last night at the hands of Lord Voldemort, and you must care for Harry now.



Your sister sacrificed herself for her son and left a certain protection in his blood. Only your blood, as your sister’s only competent relative, can save him now. While my brother and I are also relatives, my own connection is too weak to keep him hidden and my brother would be incapable of caring for a child. You are not. As the last close relative, I know that only you can protect Harry until he comes of age. I only hope that, given your tenuous relationship with your sister, you can find it in your heart to treat Harry as your own.



I hope that you will tell him everything in due course. You may contact me through Muggle post on the address on the front of this envelope if you need to ask me anything.



Sincerely Yours,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore



Harry sat on his bed, in shock. He had a living relative other than his aunt?



Ron was sitting up now, looking groggy. “Wazzzamadder, ‘Arry?” he yawned.



Harry blinked at Ron, trying to decide what to tell him. Dumbledore wanted me to confide in Ron and Hermione, he remembered.



“A letter from Dumbledore to my aunt. I guess he left it when he left me here,” he replied listlessly, handing the parchment to Ron. “She must have found it when she found me on the doorstep. I went downstairs to tell them goodbye, and she just…handed it to me.”



Ron read the letter, and then looked at Harry in shock. “You have another relative? He didn’t have to leave you here?” Ron asked in a wondering manner. “Someplace else in the world you could have gone and he left you here? But…why?”



“Well,” Harry responded, “we heard him mention a brother before. Something about improper charms on a goat and not knowing how to read?”



“Oh.” Ron frowned. “That could be bad, I guess.”



Harry nodded vigorously.



Hermione chose this moment to pound on the bedroom door (Dudley was still asleep but Hermione and Ron had spent a great deal of time finding ways to torture him, such as making as much noise as possible in the hallway.) Harry was glad to have her there – he had been waiting for her to arrive to tell them about his dream. Ron spoke first however, as soon as she walked into the room.



“Hermione, guess what! Harry’s got another loony relative! I guess we don’t have to be here after all!” he told her.



Hermione reached for the letter, almost dropping it when she pulled away from the slight contact with Ron’s hand. She scanned it, but all she could say was, “Wow.”



“I know,” said Harry, “but I actually have something more important to tell you. I dreamed about the Astronomy Tower last night.”



Ron and Hermione frowned. Hermione had often been known to wonder, in their daily meetings about their plans, why Harry had not dreamed about this particular topic yet. Ron, like Harry, had just been glad Harry had been spared so far (especially since they shared a room).



Harry continued carefully. “There was some kind of connection, in my dream, between Snape and Dumbledore. And then I remembered what Snape said to me about eye contact in Legilimency…we need to find Snape, and we I need to learn Legilimency so we can question him properly.



Hermione looked at Harry appraisingly. “Do you think Dumbledore told Snape to kill him?”



Harry sighed, putting his head in his hands. “He begged for something. I remember him asking for Snape when we arrived in Hogsmeade that night, and now I wonder why. Did he have a reason to die? We don’t know what the potion he drank was, but I remember at one point; he started shouting for someone to kill him.”



“It could be that he was hoping for an antidote from Snape. Or maybe that was what he wanted from Snape all along, to have Snape kill him. This is too many ors. We need to do some good solid research. I’m sorry, but we need the Hogwarts library,” Hermione told them.



“Okay, so that’s our next stop. Hogwarts, or maybe Hogsmeade,” Harry replied. He decided to tell them. “I want to leave today. This is exactly the number of days I spent last summer, and that should leave me pretty well protected until I’m seventeen. I’m just so sick of living here, and since I don’t have to anymore…we’re going.”



“Can we do something nasty to the Muggles first?” Ron asked.



“Let’s pack!” cried Hermione.



Harry grinned. He was glad to be going.

Back to index
Hogwarts by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Harry, Ron, and Hermione get a surprising offer from an old friend.
MMMM....yummy....new fanfic for JKR to own....



Having showered and packed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved downstairs before lunch. The Dursleys were in the living room. Harry considered for a moment, then decided not to say goodbye again. Ron moved over by the stairs for a moment, and Harry opened the door. He could have sworn he heard Ron mutter something. Sadly, at this point, Dudley swaggered into the room.



“Leaving, are you?” he asked, “Why’d you wait so long?”



Harry slowly turned to Dudley. “Dud, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.” And he punched Dudley in the nose, grabbed his trunk, and walked out of Privet Drive forever, Ron and Hermione following him. Dudley’s howls could be heard from inside the house. Harry walked to the curb and held out his right hand. The Knight Bus appeared. Ron groaned.



“Hogwarts, please,” he told the conductor. They loaded their bags and were off to the school.

~~~~~

An hour later, the bus stopped at the gate of Hogwarts. Ron looked slightly sick. They walked up the path to the school and arrived at the front doors.



They were locked.



Hermione sighed. “I suppose we could wander down to Hagrid’s? We haven’t seen him since…the funeral. He said he’d stay here no matter what.”



They could hear Fang, the dog, barking as they approached the hut. Ron knocked and they could hear Hagrid cursing inside, and the sounds of him stumbling toward the door.



“Wuzzit?” Hagrid called blearily through the door. “Wazzamadder? Yeh need me? I’ll beare righ’ quick.”



The door opened. “Ron? ‘Arry? Herminny?” Hagrid blinked drunkenly. A few empty wine barrels were scattered around the hut.



“Erm…Sorry to bug you, Hagrid, but we couldn’t get into the school.”



“Of cours’ nah, ‘Arry, M’Gonagall kips it locked,” Hagrid replied. “I’ll let you in, I know th’ passwor’.” He set off across the grass.



As they returned to the castle, however, Harry was startled to see Minerva McGonagall, the new headmistress of Hogwarts, running across the grass. “Potter!” she yelled, “Weasley! Granger! Get inside, quickly! I need to talk to you, and I’m very busy at the moment. Hagrid, get up to the school, please, the meeting’s about to start. Potter, I’ll meet the three of you in Gryffindor Tower. The password is unchanged.”



They walked up to the Tower silently and entered the Common Room. Harry scowled. “I really didn’t plan on coming back here,” he muttered. It was hard to be here, where he had so many happy memories from the only real home he had ever known. He desperately wanted to return to Hogwarts, but he knew he could not: he needed to be out in the world, looking for Horcruxes, and he wouldn’t be able to get the information he needed in order to do that here. He wouldn’t be able to leave the school easily if he stayed here longer. He turned to Ron. “What do you suppose is up with Hagrid?”



Ron shrugged. “He’s probably upset about Dumbledore. I mean, it always seemed almost like Dumbledore was his father. He’s just upset.”



Hermione looked like she was going to cry. Ron put an arm around her. “We should go see him soon,” she sniffed.



They sat there for what seemed like hours. Finally, Harry began to get up and pace. He paced for a while and then flung himself back down on his chair.



The portrait hole reopened, and McGonagall returned. She took a chair next to Hermione and asked, “How have you been?”



Harry decided on total honesty – up to a point. “Lousy. We need the library; I have some doubts about what I saw on the Tower; Dumbledore, once again, didn’t tell me the whole story about something that directly impacts my life; I officially have nowhere to live; and I can’t return to school next year because of…because I can’t,” Harry finished dully.



McGonagall sighed. “I will give you access to the library. Tell me why you doubt what you saw on the Tower and I swear we’ll get to the bottom of it eventually. You can live here for the rest of the summer, and the school will reopen next year with a much – altered program of studies. If you have to leave, I will accept that, but…I need you here, Harry.”



Harry was floored. “Why?”



“Because instead of classes and assignments, we’re going to have a more individualized approach. If you want to learn something here, and it’s not Dark Magic, we’ll find a way to teach it. There will be no real classes. It’s more work, but we’re going to have to get the students trained in the best way possible. Only a quarter of the students are returning this year, and we’re going to use the decreased population to have each of them teaching each other, individually. We want to have a faculty member supervising each of their subjects, but we have a very noticeable vacancy in the staff.”



“Defense Against the Dark Arts.”



“Quite right. We thought having you here would allow the students to have their own leader for the coming battles. Basically, we want you to reform the D.A. as a training ground for the Order of the Phoenix, and to help the students who don’t want to join you with their Defense anyway.”



Harry blinked. “You want me to WHAT???”



McGonagall sighed. “The D.A, Potter! You are a leader to the students! You can prepare them for the coming war better than anyone else can! There are not going to be any more O.W.Ls or N.E.W.Ts until the war is over, it was decided yesterday, because they can’t count on an unbiased testing environment. The school will be new and improved, and we will be running the Order straight out of the school. We are opening membership to all students over seventeen – which will soon include you. I am prepared to offer you, Weasley, and Granger membership in the Order as soon as you turn seventeen, Potter. I know you can’t reveal your mission, but you can be a help to us, and we can help you. Please, let us help you.”



It was the please that threw Harry. He smiled. He felt like laughing. “You’re offering me the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, aren’t you, Professor? This new method of running the school you’re talking about…with all of us running around teaching each other skills…do you realize what a disaster this could be?”



“Yes,” replied the headmistress. “But I believe it to be the right thing to do. We need less predictability in school as the world outside it becomes less predictable. Continuing as normal is pointless: there will be no Ministry-improved tests to study for. You will all be teaching each other. We aren’t really offering you a teaching job, but we can’t find anyone who’s willing to take it, and if you’re here working with the students, it should appease many of the people who are worried that their children will not be trained in Defense.”



“Harry…” whispered Hermione. It was the first thing she had said since McGonagall had started talking. Harry looked over at Ron, who merely shrugged. He turned back to McGonagall.



“Will you give us a minute, Professor?” McGonagall nodded and headed to the portrait. “I’ll be back later.” She disappeared.



Harry looked at the other two. They looked as shocked as he felt

Back to index
Disagreements by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
How do you decide the path of your whole life in twenty minutes?
Someday, when I'm all growed up, I'll write a story about my own characters. Until that day, I'll just borrow JKR's.



“I knew she was kissing up to us,” said Ron, “but that was bloody ridiculous!”





Hermione scowled. Apparently teachers never “kissed up.”





Harry stayed silent, content to let Ron and Hermione argue it out for a while.





“We cannot be teachers!” Ron shouted. “She’s gone completely mental! We’re not ready for this! It’s not just fighting You-Know-Who; it’s something we’re just not ready for!”





“So, basically,” Hermione said, “what you’re saying is that you’d rather fight Voldemort – oh, for crying out loud, Ron, don’t whimper! – than help teach a bunch of kids to defend themselves against him.”





“Yes! You understand perfectly! I knew I could count on you, Hermione.”





“I think that it’s a good idea to change the curriculum of the school if the Ministry isn’t going to be able to conduct the testing anymore,” pointed out Hermione, “but I’m not sure we ought to be a part of it. Of course, everyone will probably say that at first, before they get used to the idea. But I think it might be a good idea to stay here temporarily until we have a better idea where to look for the next Horcrux. We can use the library to plan our next move, and since we have no idea how to destroy them once we find them, some research wouldn’t hurt us at this point. And don’t forget that once Harry’s had his birthday, we can all come and go as we please, and the teachers won’t really be able to say anything about it.”





Harry decided right then that if Ron and Hermione ever agreed on anything from the start, he could be absolutely certain that it was a bad idea.





Predictably, Ron was still arguing against remaining in school. “We have a mission! McGonagall wants us here under her thumb, so we won’t get in the Order’s way while we carry it out, that’s why she asked in the first place!”





Hermione jumped in at this point. Apparently teachers were never guilty of this kind of manipulation either. “Does not!”





“Does too!”





Harry decided to intervene before they continued on this vein all day. “Don’t forget, he said, we do need the school right now. It might not hurt to stick around and see what’s up until term starts. We can always take off if we have to.”





Ron and Hermione stopped arguing.





“Hermione needs the library if she’s gonna solve any part of the mystery of what was in that potion, unless, of course, either of you have a better idea of where we can do that kind of research.” He waited, but neither of them responded. “Ron, I swear I won’t let McGonagall use us in that way. We will be able to come and go as we please, and if our staying here doesn’t work out we can go. And I think we need to acknowledge the possibility that in the future we may need to tell some other people – the ones we know we can trust. Not the Order, but some of our friends. Dumbledore was specific about who he wanted to know about this mission, but we’ll need them before the end, I have a feeling. And we’ll need the information the Order has about Voldemort and his followers to finish the job.”





Harry rose, and paced around the Common Room, running his fingers through his hair.





“I realized while she was talking that, aside from killing Voldemort, I’m rather useless to all this. I don’t have the skills to do this really at all. I’m terrible at research, I don’t think I’ll be able to come up with any kind of battle plan. I’m going to need you both, and I’m not going to be able to spend all my time on this project because I honestly don’t have much to contribute right now. I will need to keep my skills sharp, I’ll need to keep moving, and for that, I’ll need people to practice dueling with, somewhere to look up spells, and a good place to practice, all of which I would have here. If I don’t do something with my time while I’m waiting to make a move against Voldemort, I’m gonna burn out before we reach the end, and I don’t want that. I want to finish this. And to finish it properly, we’re going to need to know what the Order knows. I suppose we might be able to get that from someone else, but I’d rather not try unless we have to. We just need to make sure we have an exit strategy before we join up.”





Ron was scowling, Hermione smiling. Excellent, thought Harry, they still don’t agree.





“Well,” Ron said at last, “I wouldn’t mind staying for a while. But I still think that we should have the option to leave at any time, and that McGonagall shouldn’t necessarily know that we might not stay. There must have been a reason Dumbledore didn’t want her to know about the Horcruxes.”





“Yes,” said Hermione, “I would like to stay too, but I don’t think we need to worry about McGonagall. And how do we know she doesn’t know, anyway? We’ll leave if we have to, but I don’t think the Order will give us any problems, and Harry’s right. Their resources will be very helpful.”





“Okay,” Harry decided. “I know you don’t like the change in plans, Ron, but right now it’s the best we have, and the Order really can help. In the meantime, I want to know what you guys think about telling a few of our friends about the mission.”





They set about deciding who they should invite into their secret, if and when it became necessary. There were really only three names of their fellow students put forward, and in the end, they decided that any one of them would be acceptable, although they wanted to wait until it was necessary. Ron wanted to tell his parents, and Hermione wanted to tell McGonagall, but Harry wanted to wait until he needed someone before he could tell them what he was doing. Harry felt that, as the one entrusted with the mission after Dumbledore’s death, he was doing the best thing he could by deciding who to turn to for help now rather than later. He knew, somehow, that he would need some help before it was all over.





In the end, they decided to keep Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom as options for whom to tell about their mission. These were the three people who had gone to the Ministry with them in their fifth year, the three who had showed up when Hermione used the contact Galleons to round up the D.A. when it was needed a few weeks before. Harry felt that Luna had a knack for finding the solutions that no one else would believe, and that she might provide some much-needed random theorizing as well as the fact that she was loyal to the cause. Neville was the one that Harry was adamant about, because of his connection to the prophecy – the other potential Chosen One – and Harry felt that Neville had suffered enough to earn a place in the mission to kill Voldemort. Just because Voldemort had gone after Harry first was no reason to leave Neville out of it.





Ginny was the final arguing point. Harry wanted her nowhere near the danger, but he had to admit that she was exceptionally powerful for her age, loyal, and had her own score to settle with Voldemort. Harry also felt, deep down, that he would need her, although he said nothing of this to Ron or Hermione. She was a steadying influence on him, and he felt that he would need that in the coming months even if they couldn’t be together. Ron grumpily relented in the end, and Harry, although he had his doubts; felt that he should do the same. Now he felt horribly guilty for considering including her in their plans instead of guilty for leaving her behind.
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Amateur Psychology by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Hermone explores her potential psycological career.
I would like to thank Peter David's book, The Rif for the title of this chapter. And JKR, for giving me something to write about.



Professor McGonagall returned three hours later with Hagrid in tow. “How are you doing?” she asked them. “We were hoping to talk to you. I want to tell you a little more about my offer.”



Hermione glanced at Harry, and then said, “We just can’t be anywhere else right now. Hogwarts is the only place we know of that has the books I need to read to help us complete our mission.”



“And that is?”



“Ours,” Harry said, “to share when we choose to. The time may come when I need to tell you everything, but the fewer people who know, the better it is. If Voldemort ever found out what we were doing, it would be disaster. Actually, don’t even tell anyone I said that…he might guess.” Harry sighed, thinking of the danger anyone who guessed what they were doing would be in.



McGonagall smiled. “I understand completely, Potter. Do you three want to join the Order?”



Harry was floored. He understood that he might be able to work out an invitation to join when he turned seventeen, and that Ron and Hermione might be able to join now. But an offer for him to join now was completely unexpected. “I can’t!” he told her. “I’m not seventeen yet!”



McGonagall merely shrugged. Harry was struck by how tired she looked. “I know you aren’t, but you will be in a matter of weeks. You have proved many times that events will not leave you alone. You are central, for some reason, to this fight, and you have no relatives who would object to your joining the Order…no fit guardians….” She frowned then, as if trying to rid herself of an unpleasant thought. “Harry…I did try to stop Dumbledore from leaving you with those…people.” She spat the word out.



Harry sighed. “He had a good reason. My mother died to save me. Living with her sister made me impossible for anyone associated with Voldemort to find. It was the best protection he had for me. Sleeping in a cupboard may not have been particularly comfortable, but it got the job done.”



“And who else would I have had so much fun with this summer?” Ron asked.



McGonagall and Hermione suddenly looked stern. “Ron,” Hermione asked timidly, “what did you do to them?”



“I…erm…put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the door to the cupboard Harry used to sleep in.” Ron said matter-of-factly. “Now it’ll never open again.”



Hermione looked like she was holding back a laugh. McGonagall, however, gave Ron a fleeting smile before she continued. “Do you three want to join the Order? We just had a meeting, there was a vote. You’re all in if you want to be. This is the new headquarters, since Grimmauld Place has been rendered unavailable to us, so you’d have to spend some time here, even if you weren’t living here full time. But you could be privy to everything we know about what’s going on with Voldemort, and we think it’s quite a lot.”



Hagrid spoke for the first time. “Please,’ Harry,” he said, “We need you.”



Harry realized then that this was one of the times when he would have to make a decision for Ron and Hermione. In the end, once again, it came down to him.



He looked at McGonagall. “We’ll try it.”





Living at Hogwarts as an active part of the Order was one of the best things that had ever happened in Harry’s life. The next day, they were taken to their first meeting. Apparently, the Order met at three o’clock every day in a small room on the seventh floor, which was available to the Floo network (although the members all had small portkeys that they could put in a pocket, shaped like a small metal bird). The other members of the Order talked about their various projects, and Hermione took several rolls of parchment notes which were magically concealed as notes on the Goblin Rebellions (Ron swore to her that no one would ever want to read them, although she had her doubts). Tonks and Kingsley were working on recruiting members from the Ministry (an activity that was no longer forbidden). Tonks was also doing some spying in pubs frequented by Death Eaters, since she could change her appearance at will. Most of the other members of the Order were involved in various spying missions, keeping track of known or suspected Death Eaters. Whenever a new Death Eater was identified, Kingsley would tell the Auror office he had received an anonymous tip and the person would be thoroughly investigated by the Ministry, and then arrested.



After all the other members had reported, McGonagall turned to Harry. “Potter, what can you tell us?”



Harry had decided what he could and could not say the night before. “Before Dumbledore’s death, he told me the specific way to defeat Voldemort. He told it to me because Voldemort believes I am a threat to him, and will never stop hunting me until one of us is dead. He told me I could tell Ron and Hermione for some reason. And now that Dumbledore is dead, we are the only ones who know about this weakness of Voldemort’s.



“So our plan is to exploit it. We don’t want to tell you what it is. Apart from Dumbledore’s instructions, we know what would happen if this information ever got out. As far as I know, Voldemort doesn’t know that we know. Our only chance is to catch him off guard. We may ask you questions about Voldemort or the places he goes that sound a little strange. But our goal is to defeat Voldemort, and I move that the Order prepare to attack Voldemort as soon as we’re done. If we attack before that point, Voldemort cannot be killed.



“There is one other thing. I had a dream a few nights ago. In it, I recalled the scene of Dumbledore’s death and I saw a kind of connection between Dumbledore and Snape – I wondered if any of you have experience identifying the signature of Occlumency or Legilimency? I was hoping to find out if it’s possible that Snape got some kind of message from Dumbledore before he…” Harry trailed off.



The other members looked shocked. Then Tonks said, “But, Harry, it can’t be. Why would Dumbledore order what you’re implying he ordered?”



“He was weakened that night,” Harry said. “We were working on the mission he charged me with, and he was weakened. He kept asking for Snape after we got back to Hogsmeade, and then when we heard about the Dark Mark we just rushed right over here and he stopped talking about it, but of course, we did find Snape that night. It just…made me wonder if I was missing something.”



No one had any answers for him.







After the meeting, Harry cornered Remus Lupin. “Professor?”



Lupin smiled. “It’s okay, Harry. You can call me Remus.”



Harry smiled. “Remus, I need a favor.”



“What do you need?”



“I need to know how to get to my parents’ home in Godric’s Hollow, and I need to know how to find their graves.”



“When did you want to go there? And why?”



“I just feel like I have to. Will you tell me how to get there?”



Remus sighed. “No. But I’ll take you there myself. When did you want to go?”



Harry was relieved. He had wondered if Lupin would say no. “After the wedding.”





Life continued on like this for the rest of the week. They would eat breakfast; look up potions to find out what Dumbledore might have drunk and spells that might help them later on for the morning, eat lunch, take a break, go to the Order meeting, and then study until dinner. After dinner, they would spend some time chatting with whatever Order members happened to be around – Remus and Tonks, who seemed almost obscenely happy together, Ron’s parents (The night his mother had found them in an Order meeting had not been enjoyable.), Fred and George Weasley (also newly inducted), and, occasionally, Hagrid. Hagrid was moody, and usually did not stick around long. Harry made a mental note to spend some time with Hagrid after the wedding.



Bill Weasley was getting married that weekend, and they were going to go to Ottery St. Catchpole for the occasion, which was to be held in the Weasley garden. Harry was nervous about the idea of attending the wedding, mostly because he was afraid to see Ginny again. His plan was to try to pump the brains of everyone there that he trusted about the mission he was soon to embark on without drawing attention to himself while avoiding Ginny as much as possible. He had managed to spend the last three weeks not thinking about her as much as he was capable of, because every time he did he felt worse. More guilt was not what Harry needed right then.



But the day before they were to leave for the Burrow, Hermione cornered Harry in the common room after Ron had gone up to bed. “Harry,” she asked him, “what, exactly is going on between you and Ginny? You told us you two broke up, but you never said why, and she is going to be living in the house we’re going to stay in, so I just want to know exactly what to expect.”



“Well,” Harry said, “she said she understood why I had to do it. Ron talked to her, and since he didn’t hit me afterward, I think she’s probably doing okay. I know that it hurt her, and she probably cried-” Harry hated the thought of making Ginny cry. He ran his hands over his face, and then continued. “I doubt she’s cursing my name. She understood why I had to break it off.”



“And that was?” Hermione asked.



“Well,” Harry thought it would be obvious. “It’s dangerous.”



“Harry, Ron and I are in danger! Do you care about that?”



“I just don’t want her to be any more of a target than she already is. I won’t take that risk.”



“We’re targets too. You should be shedding all of us if that’s the case you’re trying to make.”



“Well, first of all, when I broke up with her, that was kind of the plan. I was going to go look for Horcruxes and you and Ron were going to stay in school. Remember? But you’re the ones who decided to come along.”



“So,” Hermione responded calmly, “let me get this straight. You’re going to let Ginny suffer alone because you’reafraid she might die if Voldemort finds out you love her. Your best friends, who you also care about, are coming along with you, and that’s okay?”



Harry said nothing, but inside he was a combination of things. Angry had its place, as did annoyance. He was frustrated, and he was afraid. But, more than anything, this conversation was making him miss Ginny, which he had avoided doing all week by not thinking about her.



Finally, one of them had to say something. “It’s too much of a risk to her.”



“Harry,” Hermione responded, “it’s her risk.”



“Don’t think I haven’t thought about this, Hermione! For ages, it was all I could think about. But, the most important thing to me is that she’s alive. I don’t care if she’s cursing my name; I just want her to be alive. And it’s just different with you and Ron. We’ve been through so much together, and you started it all when you got under that cloak in first year. Ginny’s never done that.”



“So, just because she happens to be a year younger, she doesn’t deserve to come along? You know she would have been with us if she’d been there. Or even know that you might be back for her someday?”



“Of course I can’t tell her that! What if I don’t come back?”



Harry and Hermione both froze. Neither of them had mentioned the idea that Harry might die on this mission, or really thought about the idea that Ron or Hermione could die too.



“I won’t leave her alone, Hermione. I can’t. If we’re together, and I die….I won’t do that.”



“Harry, do you think you deserve love?”



“What kind of question is that?”



“I was just curious. You don’t remember the love of your parents. You were never loved by the Dursleys. You lost Sirius before he had the chance to do much for you. All the love you’ve known in the world has been taken from you except for me and Ron and his family, and the first chance you have to know real, true, romantic love, you break up with Ginny. And you may have had a good reason, but that doesn’t make it quite right, because she wants to take this risk for you, and you’ve obviously considered that this could be the end of your life, in which case one would think you’d want to be with someone you love. So I’m asking if you feel you deserve her love?”

Back to index
Return of the Broom Shed by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
The showdown between Harry and Ginny.

Author's Note:I have decided that I cannot wait for J. K. Rowling to finish her book so I have decided to hijack her characters and (purely for my own entertainment) make up my own version of how the events should unfold.









The Burrow was completely decked out for the upcoming wedding. Harry felt like he had walked into a gauze factory. The couch and all the chairs in the living room were covered in bows and hangings and other girly things that Harry didn’t really care about. It seemed like about twelve Molly Weasleys were running around shouting orders at whoever happened to be standing nearby. The (freshly de-gnomed) garden was filled with chairs and the kitchen was full of food with preservation charms put on it.





Fleur was also in her element. The house bent to the bride-to-be’s whims, apparently simply because she was the one getting married. She was constantly running between getting fitted for her dress, opening gifts, reviewing decisions Molly had made about decorations or food, and receiving firecalls responding to the invitations that had been sent out.





The men and Ginny mostly tried to stay out of Molly and Fleur’s ways. Mr. Weasley told Harry and Ron that nothing they did would be judged competent by his wife, and she would just end up doing it herself anyway, so they might as well lower her stress by not making her yell at them. Charlie was trying to plan a bachelor party for his brother without the twins’ help (much to their annoyance) and was therefore “busy” enough to satisfy his mother.





The wedding would be in two days in the back garden. Harry and Ron spent much of the first day in Ron’s room, avoiding everyone, until it was time for the bachelor party. They set off for the local pub, Harry wondering vaguely if it would be like the bachelor parties you heard about in the Muggle world or if it would be some unique wizard tradition.





The party took place in a Muggle pub, so it couldn’t be too obvious that they were using magic. There was drinking (Harry was glad Hermione had not been allowed to come along), stories that seemed to make Bill blush more and more furiously every time they were told, and a dancing girl that seemed to dye Ron’s ears permanently red.














The next morning, they all got up bright and early. Ron had to be fitted for his groomsman’s robes, and Harry and Hermione couldn’t sleep through all the yelling and running around. They went outside (avoiding the chairs that had been set up) and watched the commotion from inside the Burrow as Fred and George apparated around the house, transfiguring everything that Mrs. Weasley had decided was essential to the wedding into Muggle artifacts of dubious importance to any festive occasion. Hermione seemed antsy.





“I’m sorry if I was out of line the other night, Harry,” she told him. “I just think that you and Ginny should be together. I know you love her, and I think she loves you. Why won’t you just let it be?”





“Fine,” Harry told her. “I’ll tell Ginny how I feel about her if you tell Ron how you feel about him.” He felt some vindictive pleasure about the blush that was creeping up Hermione’s cheeks at this statement. “Not as easy as it looks, is it?”





“I just don’t understand why you can’t just apologize and move on. You should have some happiness, Harry.”





“Remember what I said, Hermione? What if I don’t come back? What if you don’t come back? Or Ron? I can stand the idea of me dying. I’ve been living with that for years. I can even stand the idea of the people who have been with me through it all dying, because I know that you’d never let me go alone and it’s your choice. But Ginny…I couldn’t take that. If she feels the way I do, she won’t have a choice. Voldemort wouldn’t even have to try to kill me if she died – there wouldn’t be anything left for him to kill. I need her alive.”





“I know this is like beating a dead horse, Harry, but she’s hurting. You should at least tell her all of this.”





“She doesn’t need that burden.”





“You never told her about the prophecy, did you?”





Harry was now feeling genuinely insulted. “Of course not.” His voice took a distinctly sarcastic turn. “I can just see that now: ‘By the way, Ginny, even though we just got together and I mistakenly ignored your existence for years, you should know that I’m fated to kill the most evil wizard in the world before he does me in, hope that doesn’t make you have second thoughts about this.’”





“I swear, Harry, you’re worse than Ron is! She knows something’s up, it’s obvious. She’s aware the prophecy exists, remember? Just tell her, you’ll both feel better and I can stop hounding you about it.” Hermione stomped off toward the burrow, which was nearly shaking with the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s yelling as she berated the twins for turning Fleur’s tiara into a rubber duck.














Harry didn’t know what to do about Ginny, but Hermione gave him the rest of the day to think about it. Privately, Harry thought Hermione was starting to act a little oddly, but he pushed the thought aside. Hermione was Hermione, and she was always right. When the rare occasion occurred when she wasn’t right, it only occurred because she was missing a key piece of evidence that she could never have obtained on her own that made her not right. This meant, since Ginny confided in her, and she was therefore not missing any key pieces of evidence, and Hermione was always right, that Harry needed to have a conversation with Ginny.





He didn’t know how he was going to do that; however, with Ginny now ignoring him (although, to be fair, he knew that she was justified since he ignored her first). With all the activity that had been going on in the house, no one had really noticed that they weren’t speaking, and Harry was not planning to stay at the Burrow much past the wedding. Still, he privately admitted that he was not ready to just let Ginny go, and if it meant that he would have to change his plans a little bit to get her to listen to him, he would do it.





Surprisingly, his opportunity presented itself that night.





Harry was unable to sleep. He had found it harder and harder of late; his mind was too full of things clamoring for his attention. He remembered before Dumbledore had died, in his fourth year, never having felt this way before, being unable to conceive of it when Dumbledore had talked about it. He knew what it felt like now.





He was standing at Ron’s window, looking out into the garden, when he saw a figure leave through the back door and head for the broom shed across the yard. The figure was wearing a cloak, and he couldn’t tell who it was, but after a moment, he realized exactly who would be going for a nighttime flight: the only Weasley who had ever felt the need to sneak onto a broom, Ginny.





He crept downstairs, being careful not to disturb anyone, and followed her outside. He walked toward the shed, and stopped at the door. It was closed, but he could hear her moving around inside. He paused for a moment, and then knocked.





She opened the door, and looked at him appraisingly. For a moment, neither spoke, and then:





“So, you decided I exist, did you?”





Harry thought that this was not going at all well. “Yeah, well, you see, I always knew you existed. If you hadn’t been there, I would have been able to look in your direction.”





She scowled. “So you just came out here to be a jerk, is that it?”





Harry sighed. He felt an inclination to thump his head against the wall, and instantly regretted what he had said. “No! No, I came out here to tell you something.”





“What would you possibly have to tell me, Harry? There’s nothing else you can do to me.” She pushed past him and began to walk away, but Harry followed.





“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…” Ginny stopped walking as he quoted the prophecy. She stood still, her back to him. Harry could only take it as a good sign. “I wanted to have something normal. Something Voldemort could never touch. But it didn’t work out that way. Dumbledore is dead, and now I have to end this war before anyone else I care about gets hurt. I have things to do, Ginny. I can’t just up and kill him; I have to make him mortal again first. It’s going to take time, and when I’m done, he might kill me. You have to know that.”





“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.





“I wanted to be happy with you. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. You deserve better than to live wondering if this is the day I die at the hands of Voldemort, Ginny.”





“But you told me anyway.” Ginny turned to face him.





“Hermione said that you have the right to choose if you want anything to do with me. She’s right. You should have all the facts I can give you.”





“Will you take me with you?” Ginny asked.





This was the question Harry had most feared. Luckily, during his day of thinking, he had come up with an answer. “Sure, once you’re of age, of course I will. But we’re going to be spending some of our time at Hogwarts, and you can help us then, if we need you.”





“But not all the time.” She sounded angry.





“Ginny, I know I will need you. But I need you to wait. I want you to be happy for a while. Dumbledore gave me a great gift last year. He gave me the year off. I was in lessons with him, I knew about the prophecy, and I had things to worry about, of course, but I got to play Quidditch, and be with you, and deal with Ron and Hermione’s problems – it was almost like being back in third year, before that Triwizard Tournament incident and everything went to hell. It was a good year. Things were happening, there was plenty going on, but Dumbledore managed to let me know enough that I wasn’t constantly worrying about it. I can’t get out of my mission anymore. Dumbledore took it for me, as far as he was able to, but now that’s over. He’s the one who said to tell Ron and Hermione, they know all about it and they can’t let it go now any more than I can. But you don’t have that burden, and I won’t tell you until the time when I need you.”





“Why did you break up with me, if you’re not leaving and you’re not going on this mission alone?”





“Because I want you safe. I was scared you could be targeted if we were dating. I still am. But I realized something today.”





“And that is?” She asked coolly. Harry couldn’t tell how she felt by her voice.





“I kissed you in front of a whole crowd of people in the common room. We were a hot gossip topic for weeks, and Malfoy must have heard about us. Rodmilla Vane probably told everyone you told her I have a Hungarian Horntail tattooed on my chest, and Voldemort must know that his diary kidnapped you by now. He already knows about us, whatever we do.” Harry sank against the broom shed. “God, Ginny, I’m so sorry.”





She sat down next to him. “For what?”





“I might have gotten you killed by going out with you. I should have been more careful, I should have started a row with you and told you I hate you. Anything to keep him from finding out…” Harry couldn’t finish the thought.





“Finding out what? Harry, for crying out loud, the suspense is killing me!”





“Finding out the truth.”





“Which is?”





Harry was fighting a huge internal war with himself. He wanted to tell her, but he knew that if he did she would never let him hold anything in. If he told her what he had been dying to tell her, he would never be able to keep her away from him or his mission – not that he really wanted to, but he had a duty to keep her safe, didn’t he?





The beast in his chest stirred at the thought of saying what was on the tip of his tongue. He felt his control slipping. Of course she should know. No one was around to hear. It could be a secret. And Voldemort already knew he had dated her. Harry’s fear of the consequences lessened.





“I love you,” he told her.





She looked at him so intensely he thought she might be able to see all the way into his mind. “You do?” she asked, “I didn’t know that. I love you too.”





Harry smiled his first true smile since the death of Dumbledore. “Good.” He sighed. Just for a moment, his burden had been lifted, and now it crashed down upon him again, everything he had to do. “Ginny, when this is over, I promise it’ll be different if you still want me. But for right now, can we just try to concentrate on staying alive and finishing the job? I can’t be distracted. This war has to end.”





She leaned into him and he put an arm around her. “What are you working on right now?”





Harry kissed the top of her head, relishing in the smell of her hair. “We have a few things. Mostly, we need to know the identity of a certain wizard with the initials R.A.B.”





Ginny looked up at him. “Why do you need to know that?”





“It’s a complex story, and it’s one of those things I don’t want to tell you yet. R.A.B. was a Death Eater, he or she stole something from Voldemort, and was probably caught by Voldemort and punished at some point. I don’t know when or where. It could have been during the First War.”





“Harry, I think you’re looking too hard,” said Ginny. “The answer’s kind of obvious.”





“Who is it?” Harry asked in confusion. How did Ginny know the answer to this puzzle?





“There was a Death Eater with the initials R.A.B, which you know of, who did something to anger Voldemort seventeen years ago,” said Ginny. “Regulus A. Black.”







Back to index
The Wedding to End All Weddings by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Here comes the bride!

Well, as much as I enjoy doing this, I don't get paid for it. Sad, huh?







Ron was most unhappy.





“How could you! You told my only sister she can go with us to find the first Horcrux! You said you’d protect her, you broke up with her to protect her, and now all of a sudden you’re dating again and she’s going with us! How could you?”





“Ron,” Hermione said patiently, “everyone knew they were together. Voldemort already knows. Harry’s not doing her any good staying away from her, and it might put her in more danger if she isn’t with him as much anyway.”





“I don’t care! She still can’t come with us to find the first Horcrux! I won’t let her.”





“She’s not,” said Harry. “We’re just going to Grimmauld Place to check and see if we can find some clue to the location of the first Horcrux. That’s all.”





“So why is it so important that she goes, then?”





Harry rolled his eyes. Sometimes Ron could be a bit stupid. “Because she’s the one that came up with the clue we needed that led us to Grimmauld Place, which is more than we came up with on our own.”





“So you’re basically saying you told her everything. After we agreed to wait until we need her.”





“No, I just told her we were looking for the name of a dead Death Eater with the initials R.A.B. who might have gotten on the outs with Voldemort. She came up with a name, and I decided to ask her to come along in case she remembers something else, which is more than we’ve managed. Actually, I haven’t even asked her yet. I just told you I was going to ask her and you jumped down my throat.”





“Oh.” Ron looked at the clock. “We might want to get dressed soon. The wedding’s in an hour.”





Hermione gasped. “Oh no! I’m supposed to be doing Ginny’s hair right now!” She ran from the room.





“Mental,” Ron muttered. “It’s just hair.”





They put on their dress robes in silence, and went downstairs. They could hear the girls giggling behind Ginny’s bedroom door, and Harry plainly heard Hermione’s voice saying, “He said what?”





Harry had a pretty good idea what they were talking about.





Downstairs, he found an empty chair in the living room to wait until closer to time for the ceremony. Ron was outside, escorting various relatives to their seats. Harry was enjoying the privacy, it gave him some time to think about the night before, and the time he had spent with Ginny outside by the broom shed, until…





“So, mate, what’s this Ginny was telling Hermione?” asked Fred, apparating onto the couch. Something you said to her, what was it? Oh, yes. Now I remember!”





Suddenly, a large amount of confetti appeared over Harry’s head, all of it bearing what seemed to be…





“Guys?” Harry asked, “Why make confetti with tiny pictures of your sister on it?”





“Well,” replied George, “we actually didn’t. We enchanted the confetti so that it would show a picture of whoever the person we cast it on was thinking of. We were looking for a way to test it…this was perfect.”





“We can’t allow you to go saying things like that to our sister without a little payback,” said Fred.





“Besides, the girls are up there mooning over you,” said George.





“Bit revolting, really,”





“But, it doesn’t matter, we just wanted you to know, you’re not getting away with this. If you want to tell Ginny you love her, you have to deal with all of us now.”





“What George is trying to say, is, you’re doomed, mate.”





The twins grinned. “Fred,” said George, “don’t you think that we need to be testing our new chair cushions right about now?”





“Why, yes, dear brother, I do,” replied Fred. “Bye, Harry. Don’t do anything we’d have to kill you for!”





“And don’t tell Mum, she’s gonna be revolting enough for the next month, ‘my little baby’s getting married...’”





The twins left the room, leaving Harry alone again. He glanced at the clock: the wedding was due to start soon. He left the room to go find a seat with Hermione.














Harry supposed that weddings were very emotional times, but he didn’t understand why every woman present needed to leak like a hosepipe. Since Ron and Ginny were both in the wedding, Harry and Hermione were seated together close to the front of the ceremony. Hermione was sobbing onto Harry’s shoulder as Bill and Fleur said their vows. Harry, himself, was distracted during the ceremony, although only a complete idiot would fail to notice the ever-larger stain on the shoulder of his dress robes.





The thing that was distracting him was Ginny.





Fleur had, as she had been constantly saying, dressed the bridesmaids in pale gold, and Harry thought that this was especially flattering on Ginny. She was standing behind Fleur’s sister, Gabrielle, and looked magnificent in her gold robes, carrying a bouquet of flowers. Hermione had arranged her hair in ringlets, and although Harry didn’t understand why girls bothered with their hair so much, he was able to appreciate the end result: Ginny looked gorgeous.





The wedding continued, the little old man who had performed Dumbledore’s funeral talking about love and commitment and how wonderful those things were, Hermione sobbing on his shoulder, Ron trying (and failing) to not fidget during the ceremony, and Harry still had eyes only for Ginny.





Abruptly, the music started again and all the guests rose. Fleur and Bill walked off down the aisle followed by their various siblings. Hermione looked up as Ron passed them, and then promptly started sobbing into Harry’s robes again. When the music stopped, guests began to file towards the food, and the dozen or so tables set up in the yard. Harry followed; Hermione, still crying, in tow.





They reached their seats and were about to sit when something clicked for Harry. “Wait!” he told the Weasleys. “Don’t sit! Where are Fred and George?”





Mrs. Weasley looked suspicious. “Why?”





“I heard them talking about the chairs before the wedding. It didn’t click then, but…”





Someone screamed. The Weasleys all looked over. Someone, likely a friend of Bill’s, had sat down in his seat, and was now wearing a white wedding veil on his head. Fred and George could be seen near the food giving each other high fives and grinning. Harry looked over at the others at his table. Mr. Weasley was looking at his chair as though he was dying to collapse into it, but clearly wondering if he dared. Mrs. Weasley was looking at the twins as though she wanted to kill them. Bill was laughing, Charlie was poking his chair suspiciously as though testing it, and Ron was heading over to Fred and George with an inquisitive air about him. Hermione looked simply annoyed. Ginny, however, sat down in her chair muttering something about “wimps” as a wedding veil popped onto her head. She sighed and removed it, then took off her high heeled shoes before heading for the food herself.





The festivities carried on all day and into the evening. First there was food, then the band started playing, more food (Mrs. Weasley’s mission to fatten Harry up had been slacking of late, but she was making up for it today), and toasts made by each member of the Weasley and Delacour families. Harry listened as Fleur’s family broke into sobs one by one, and then as the eight Weasleys had their turn. Mr. Weasley told a few anecdotes about Bill’s childhood and how proud he was. Mrs. Weasley also broke into sobs in the middle of her toast: “my little baby’s getting married!” she wailed. Charlie told the assembled guests how brilliant this was because Bill was in need of someone to tell him when he had his shoes on the wrong feet (“I was five!” yelled Bill, pretending to throttle his brother).





Fred and George stood up next, and Mrs. Weasley looked a little pale. They made a traditional (and uncharacteristically low-key) toast, but just before sitting down, launched a small firecracker that, instead of shooting sparks, sprinkled their enchanted confetti on Bill and Fleur. They each reached out and snatched a piece off of each of them, examined the pieces, and declared, in one voice, “just testing!” before sitting back down and holding up a sign that read: “Confetti of Love: 10 knuts a bag!”





Ron’s turn was next, and then Ginny’s. They both spoke about how Bill had usually been their favorite older brother when they were growing up. Bill finished up with a toast to his new wife.





The band started playing again, and, surprisingly, Ron led Hermione onto the dance floor. The Weasleys drifted away until Harry was left sitting alone with Ginny. He sighed. There was only one thing he could think to do, and although he didn’t want to do it, some battles just had to be fought. He turned to Ginny.





“Dance with me?”





She grinned. They made their way onto the dance floor, and he took her in his arms. He had danced with Parvati Patil at the Yule Ball, but he felt much less self-concious here, with Ginny. Until, all of a sudden...





"Harry, your shoulder is wet."





Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, that was because Ron had the inclination to seat me next to a human geyser."





Ginny giggled.





They spent the rest of the evening dancing, eating, and talking, enjoying themselves to the fullest. Harry knew, that night, that for him, the war would truly begin tomorrow, but Ron had been right, when he said, after Dumbledore’s funeral, that they had to go to the wedding. Harry was now quite sure, as he watched Fleur and Bill cut what had formerly been a beautiful cake but was now squashed all over Bill’s face, that all he wanted to do was make sure he survived to have this for himself someday.


Back to index
Slytherin by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
The first encounter with a Horcrux. Who will survive?

You know, if I was JKR, it’d be really cool.
I would have so much fun being JKR.
I would buy a ton of DVDs and books and I would know how this story would end.
But instead, I’m just a humble fan, making my own story up because I don’t want to spend two years guestimating for nothing. So enjoy.



The next morning dawned cloudy and misty, and Harry felt the change inside him. He still felt the cheer from the day before, but there was also a restlessness, and a desire to end the war, so that he could get back to his life. He wasn’t sure what that would mean, but he knew that he had never had any part of his life untainted by Voldemort, and he desperately wanted it.



He had arranged with Remus the night before that they would go to Godric’s Hollow in a few days, but for now, Harry was going to go to Grimmauld Place with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The house had been vacated, because no one was quite sure how Dumbledore’s death would effect the Fidelius Charm that had been placed on it, but the Order had kept it under surveillance and no Death Eaters had been there, so Harry was willing to take the risk for this important mission. He was, however, taking certain precautions, such as the fact that Ginny had to remain in physical contact with one of them at all times and that the three Order members would all have their Portkeys.



The plan was to go to Grimmauld Place and collect everything they could find that had belonged to Regulus Black, shrink it small enough to fit in a pocket, and then return to sort through it in the relative safety of Hogwarts.









The four of them lined up in front of the fire with their Floo Powder as Harry went over the plan, again.



“We’re looking for anything that might be connected to Regulus. Just get it out of there and we’ll sort it all out here. Ginny, remember, you can’t let go of us for an instant.”



He turned to the fire, threw in his powder, and called, “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!” then stepped in and was whisked off to the kitchen of the house he had been avoiding for a year.



The house was dark, but Harry was able to see that the kitchen was more or less unchanged. He had time to look around, noticing that the cupboards that had once held the heirlooms of Black family treasure seemed to be empty. He sighed. Just then, Ginny appeared in the fireplace, and Harry grabbed her as soon as she had stopped spinning. Holding hands, they examined the room as Ron and Hermione Flooed in, looking for anything that might have belonged to Regulus, but all the cupboards were bare. Finally, it was Hermione who spoke.



“Mundungus.”



This was the thing that Harry had feared: many of the treasures of the house were in the possession of Mundungus Fletcher, who was, incidentally, in Azkaban for various petty crimes at this moment. If Mundungus had gotten his hands on a clue about Regulus, who knew where it could be?



Harry sighed. “We need to decide what room to search next. Any ideas?”



Hermione rolled her eyes. “I made a list last night, and prioritized it. First, we are going to search Regulus’s room, which is untouched. Then we’re going to look in the attic, where a large number of the Dark things we found were stored, and then we’ll check for hidden compartments in the main rooms where he might have hidden something. Remember, try not to talk, and keep your minds clear for any hint of Dark magic – you should be able to feel it if you’re concentrating. If you get a hint of anything, don’t touch it, and alert all of us, we’ll take the whole container of whatever it is straight to Hogwarts. If anyone sees a locket, it’s possible we might have found what we’re looking for, so don’t touch that, either. We’ll levitate it into a box and take all the lockets back to the school with us. Clear?”



The other three nodded. Quietly, they headed up to Regulus’s room and began their search.







Harry had never before appreciated Grimmauld Place. The house was big and spacious, and now that it was almost entirely decontaminated and Kreacher wasn’t wandering around all the time, it was almost pleasant. Except, of course, for the only bedroom that had been left untouched.



Harry knew that Sirius had disapproved of his brother, but, apparently, there was just enough fraternal love left to keep his brother’s possessions intact. Except for the fact that the room had obviously been rid of dark creatures, there was no sign that anything had been moved. This made their work much easier.



Regulus’s stuff was certainly interesting. There were all the things that you would expect to see: clothes, books, and mementos. But most of it was in a rather disturbing category: books about eliminating Muggle-borns from the Wizarding world, a predominance of dark colors among the clothing, and even a few pictures from Hogwarts that showed Regulus and his Slytherin friends tormenting Muggle-borns.



Ginny was the one who found the notebook. It was hidden inside the mattress of the bed. The notes it contained were about the Dark Arts: rumors of various spells or potions or ideas that Regulus had heard of around the house. It seemed that he had been trying to learn as much as possible about the forbidden knowledge of his parents as he could. There was a page devoted to Horcruxes. Harry wordlessly handed the book to Hermione, who scanned the page and gasped.



“This is it!” she said, “Right here! He writes:



I have found the information I seek, in the halls of Hogwarts.

The Dark Lord has, indeed, found a way to split his soul

I know that he will have powerful protection on the Horcrux, and judging by the work he has had me doing on ways to defeat Capturing Potions, I believe I know what that is.

I no longer know where my loyalties lie; I only know that Sirius was right about one thing: Voldemort is evil. And I am not prepared to follow evil

I know there is nothing I can say to win back the respect of my brother. Now is the time for action. I will steal the Horcrux, but until I get my hands on it I cannot know how to destroy it, nor will I know if I will have the time. Therefore, if anyone should find this notebook, I can only hope that you, too will have the courage to do what is right.



“That’s it!” Hermione said. “This is proof that Ginny is right, and that we are on the right track. And, he said Capturing Potions…there’s pages and pages of notes on those in here. We can finally get to the bottom of that other question, later. For now, let’s concentrate on the locket. We know he got it from the cave.”



“He knew he might not have time to destroy it,” said Harry. “But Voldemort never knew what Regulus had done. The Death Eaters killed him.”



“Why, though?” asked Ginny. “He wouldn’t if Voldemort didn’t know what he’d done?”



“Doesn’t matter,” said Ron. “The important thing is that he died. But the Death Eaters didn’t know what he had done. So his body, and everything he had with him, would have been returned to his parents. That’s how it works.”



“And his parents would have put the things he had with him somewhere,” said Harry. “They collected everything else.”



“You’re sure it was a locket?” asked Ginny.



“Pretty sure,” Harry told her.



“Then, what about that locket we found two years ago in the cabinets in the drawing room, the one that wouldn’t open?”



The other three looked at her, amazed.



“Of course!” said Hermione, “that locket has been right here the whole time! R.A.B, Regulus, in his home, it all fits. That cabinet had a bunch of trophies of dead family members, including what Regulus had on him when he died. But where is it now?”



Harry had a sudden thought. It was not a pleasant one.



“Kreacher,” he said, and a house – elf wearing a tattered loincloth appeared in the room. “Master has summoned Kreacher?” it asked, muttering, “filthy master is not fit to be in Master Regulus’s room, oh no.”



“Kreacher,” said Harry, “did you take a locket from the pile in the drawing room two summers ago?”



“Kreacher did as he had to,” replied the elf evasively.



“Did you have to take the locket?” asked Harry.



“The locket was all my mistress had to keep from her beloved son after he died,” said Kreacher, muttering, “Master is not fit to touch such an item, no he is not.”



“Where is the locket now?” asked Harry.



“Kreacher put it away, in the attic, where it will not be disturbed,” the elf told him.



“Go and get it,” Harry told the elf, “and bring it to me. Don’t go anywhere else, contact anyone in any way, or make any noise in the process, clear?”



“Kreacher must do as Master asks,” the elf muttered angrily. He disappeared with a pop and then returned to the room carrying a locket.



“Thank you, Kreacher,” said Harry. “Now, put the locket on the bed, return to Hogwarts, and don’t tell anyone you were here or that we spoke. In fact, never mention this to anyone again.”



“Kreacher set the locket down, glared at Harry, and vanished.”



Harry smiled, then reached out with a piece of blanket over his hand and grabbed the locket, then nodded to the others. They all grabbed their Portkeys and were swept away, Ginny pulled along with them.







In the Room of Requirement, the four of them sat and stared at the locket.



“We did it,” said Hermione. “We found it. It’s over.”



“It’s not over,” said Ron. “We don’t even know how to destroy it.”



“Yes we do,” said Harry. “At least, I do. We have to open it.”



“How do you know that?” asked Hermione. “For all we know, that’ll make it worse.”



“I just know, like I did with Riddle’s diary.”



Harry immediately knew he had said the wrong thing. Ginny looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “What?!”



Harry turned to her. “Well, I destroyed it, didn’t I? So, think of this like the same type of thing. I can do it again. Just…I’d rather not use Basilisk venom this time.”



Ginny glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me Riddle’s diary had something to do with all this? How could you hide that from me?”



“Because,” Harry told her, “you’re taking some time off, remember? You are going to live what you can of your life while you still can, and the diary is gone. It no longer has anything to do with Voldemort. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, it just hasn’t come up. So now you know, okay? It was important. Without Riddle’s diary, Dumbledore might never have figured out what we needed to do to kill Voldemort. But the diary itself isn’t dangerous any more. And I don’t think this can hurt you.”



“Why wouldn’t it be able to hurt you?” asked Ron.



“Because the diary was a weapon and the ring was a trap. But the last four would be for protection, so they’ll be hidden and guarded against being stolen, but not meant to do any damage themselves. He wouldn’t want anyone to fight back.”



Ron seemed satisfied with this explanation.



Hermione examined the locket. “The obvious solution,” she said, “would be to open it with the catch. But that doesn’t seem to be working right now,” she continued, trying it. “So, maybe we could take the screws out of the hinge, and open it that way, or pry it open somehow…”



Meanwhile, Ginny had gotten up and moved over to a table at the side of the room. When she returned, she carried a heavy-looking metal lump in her hand. She raised it above her head and smashed it down on the locket before anyone could stop her.



A green glow surrounded the pieces of the locket, and then faded away. The shattered locket was now just that: a shattered locket.



Ginny looked very satisfied with herself.

Back to index
Coming of Age by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Harry turns seventeen.




I would love to be able to say that I own Harry Potter. I wish I could tell you that I know what will happen in the future of the story. But I can’t. I’m just a humble fan, and I don’t know how it will end.







I can predict, however. And this is my nonprofit prediction.








Ginny was a little irate once they returned to Gryffindor tower.





“How dare you not tell me Tom Riddle’s diary was mixed up in all this!” she yelled. “I have a right to know if what he did to me is in any way related to what you’re doing now! I cannot believe you would be so foolish as to think that you have the right to just not tell me something like that.”





“I didn’t mean to not tell you,” Harry told her. “It just isn’t that important. I wiped everything Voldemort left in that diary out of it four years ago. I think the Malfoys have it now. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but it really doesn’t matter now. The diary cannot hurt anyone again. And now, no one will be hurt by that locket either. The battle’s half over. Three more of those and we’re home free.”





“So what are we looking for now?” she asked.





“A cup that used to belong to Helga Hufflepuff. Any ideas?”





Ginny scowled. “No.”














The next day was Harry’s birthday.





He had almost forgotten, with everything that had happened, but he was startled, when he got down to the Great Hall for breakfast, that the entire Weasley family, except Percy (who was still not speaking to them) and Bill (who was still on his honeymoon) was there waiting for him, under a banner that read, “Happy Birthday, Harry.”





They sat down to eat, and Harry enjoyed the conversation immensely, but he knew he had work to do and couldn’t allow the mere fact of his birthday to disrupt it. Before he could bring that up, however, Ginny spoke up.





“Now,” she said, “I know you have things to do, so we decided to make it a short party. But we brought you presents…” Mr. Weasley waved his wand and a large pile of gifts appeared… “and we’re telling you to take the morning off. Have some fun. We brought brooms!”





Harry frowned. He really wanted to have a break, play some Qudditch…but could he allow himself to take that kind of time? Voldemort could do so much damage before he had the chance to do anything about it, and he wanted to keep looking. Ron and Hermione seemed similarly hesitant.





“Harry,” Ginny told him, “you’ve earned a break after yesterday. A little one will help you work faster.”





Harry nodded. “You’re right. Let’s play!”





He started to open his presents. There were all kinds of things there. Ron and Hermione had given him a case for his broom, and Bill and Fleur and bought him a wand holster. Charlie had given him a dragon hide jacket, and Fred and George had brought him a box containing at least one of every item in their shop. Ginny gave him a picture that Colin Creevy had taken of them the year before in a gold frame. Lupin had sent him a letter, with instructions on the outside not to open it until he was alone. All in all, however, his best gift was from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.





He opened a small, thin package to discover a clock hand with his name on it. It matched the other hands on their family clock perfectly. Mr. Weasley took it from him. “I’ll put it on as soon as we get home this afternoon,” he said.





Harry didn’t know what to say. “This is just…too much,” he told them. “You didn’t have to…”





“And also,” said Mrs. Weasley, “I’ve had just about enough of this ‘Mrs. Wealsey’ business, understand? You can call us Molly and Arthur, or Mum and Dad, it’s your choice, but after all this time, it’s ridiculous to expect that we would want to be so formal.”





Harry couldn’t answer her without getting choked up, but he was spared in immediate response when the twins’ box of goodies set off a firework that released a cloud of Peruvian instant darkness powder. The whole family grouped together and groped their way to the exit, laughing.











After a game of Quidditch (in which he, Ron, and Ginny flattened Fred, George, and Charlie) Harry was feeling very good indeed about his decision to take a morning off from work. That afternoon, however, they went right back to it. Hermione had drawn up a list of things they needed to know:


1. What was in the potion Dumbledore drank?


2. Why did Snape kill Dumbledore?


3. Where is Hufflepuff’s cup now?


4. Did Ravenclaw leave any artifacts behind?


5. Did Gryffindor leave any artifacts other than his sword behind?


6. How is Harry supposed to kill Voldemort?


7. Where is Voldemort’s stronghold located?





Harry felt that starting with the first one was a good place to begin. Hermione agreed, since they had Regulus’ work on Capturing Potions to work out of, they began by opening his notebook and reading his notes on the subject.





Capturing Potions


Purpose:


To imprison the drinker and put all his knowledge under the control of a single individual.





Key ingredients:


Moonstone


Monkshood


Asphodel





How it works:


The potion will force the drinker to relive his darkest fears. Depending on the strength of will of the individual, it will, over time, eat away at their mental defenses until it makes a virtual slave of them. The potion also drains the drinker of magical power, meaning that only the most rudimentary spells will be available to him, and then only for a short time. By the time their mental defenses are overridden, the drinker is as a Squib. At this point, the drinker will then seek out the one who made the potion, who is their new master. There is no antidote to this potion.





There followed a complex, many-paged set of minor ingredients, instructions on how to make the potion, and cautions on how not to screw it up.





Harry scowled. “This is it,” he said, “but how do we apply it?”





“Well,” Hermione responded, “we know that Dumbledore was about to be enslaved, probably by Voldemort. We know he had very little power with which to defend himself, and you can see that by the way he only used very rudimentary spells at all after he drank the potion. Petrificus Totalus…we’ve been able to do that since first year. Dumbledore didn’t use anything fancier because he couldn’t. Think about it – if he’d been able to, he could have disarmed Malfoy, then run downstairs and stunned all the Death Eaters if he wanted to. And if everything he knew was about to go to Voldemort, he would rather have died. I think we can present this tonight, and decide where to go from there.”











That night, the Order met as usual. The same reports were given about the same things as always, and then it was Harry’s turn. The other members turned to him, no doubt expecting the usual “everything’s good” line, but they were all about to be surprised.





“Since we were last at a meeting,” said Harry, “we have accomplished one of the things we needed to do before Voldemort can be killed. Three more remain, and if anyone knows anything about objects said to belong to one of the Hogwarts founders, especially a cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, it would be appreciated.





“We also have come across information about Dumbledore’s death that sheds new light on exactly what Snape’s motive might have been. The night he died, Dumbledore drank a potion that weakened him considerably. He was unable to Apparate by himself, and when we arrived at the tower, instead of Disarming Malfoy, he Petrified me. I believe it was because he drank a Capturing Potion and was unable to work that spell.”





This announcement was greeted with silence by the rest of the Order.





“But, Harry,” interjected Tonks, “you can’t mean that Dumbledore wanted to die. Why wouldn’t he just let Malfoy kill him, if that was the case?”





“Dumbledore believed Malfoy could be saved,” said Harry. “He never would have doubted it. That’s what he did. He believed in people. He trusted Snape. Maybe we should trust that, at least until we know otherwise.”





Harry knew that this was unlikely to go over well. He had not even mentioned that he planned to say this to Ron or Hermione, partly because he couldn’t believe that he would say it. But he knew that this, more than anything, was what Dumbledore would have wanted, and that it was finally time for him to learn that lesson, once and for all. He could think of no better way to honor Dumbledore’s memory.


Back to index
Godric's Hollow by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Apparation tests take place and Harry goes to Godric's Hollow.

Not mine, blah blah blah, I didn’t come up with it, blah blah blah, I don’t claim to own it, blah blah blah…broken record much?

After the Order meeting, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their routine. Their work felt easier, somehow, with the partial answering of their questions.

Hermione, in particular, seemed more cheerful. She began to worry about the Hogwarts house-elves again (“Ronald! It won’t kill you to put the books back yourself, you know!”)

A week after Harry’s birthday, Professor McGonagall stopped him n the corridor. “The next Apparation test date is in three days,” she told him. “Do you think you can be ready?”

An image of cold sea flashed into Harry’s mind. “I am not worried…I am with you…” “Sure, Professor,” he replied tonelessly.

She looked concerned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he replied more firmly, “I am.”

“Good. You and Mr. Weasley may meet the other testees in Hogsmeade at three o clock on Tuesday.” She walked away.

Harry, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to be excited at all, wandered back to the library.





Tuesday was another cold, dreary, and foggy day. Harry and Ron left the castle after lunch and wandered down to Hogsmeade. The first person they saw when they got to Main Street was Neville Longbottom. He was deep in conversation with Ernie Macmillan.

“And then,” he was telling Ernie, “Gran told me I had to join some Order just like my parents and I told her that I wouldn’t be taking any more orders based on what my parents did. So I packed up and moved into Mum and Dad’s old house, since I’m seventeen now anyway.”

“You mean you won’t be fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” asked Ernie, sounding scandalized.

“Of course I will,” said Neville. “I’m just sick of Gran wanting be to be my dad all the time.”

Ernie looked slightly mollified.

“Speaking of fighting You-Know-Who,” said Ron, “the D.A. is starting up again.”

Harry glanced at Ron. They hadn’t planned to tell anyone it was a training ground for the Order yet. Ron shrugged.

“Excellent!” said Ernie. “I knew it would be worth it to return to school this year!” Neville nodded in agreement.

Just then, the small, pale Professor Tofty approached their group. “All here?” he asked. “Longbottom, Macmillan, Potter, and Weasley?” The boys all nodded to him. “Good.”

They followed Professor Tofty over to a group of their fellow seventh years outside the Three Broomsticks. “When I call your name,” said the professor, “please Apparate to the place I name and back again. Parvati Patil!”

Parvati stepped forward. “Scrivenshafts, please!” called the diminutive professor. Parvati vanished and reappeared down the street, then returned. Tofty looked her over carefully, then tapped his paper with his wand. “Pass!”

The test continued. One by one, the students took a turn. Most passed. Ron’s test went very well, although Tofty seemed overly concerned with the state of his eyebrows. Neville passed, although he took longer to complete his Apparation then normal.

When it was time for Seamus Finnegan’s test, Professor Tofty looked nervous – however, Seamus passed easily.

One by one, the list of students to be tested grew shorter until: “Harry Potter!”

Harry stepped up to the professor. “Please pop up to the front of Madam Puddifoot’s and back again,” said Tofty.

Destination, thought Harry, determination, deliberation.

The last time he had apparated popped into his mind. “I am not worried, Harry, I am with you.”

For a second, the memory threatened to destroy his concentration, but he pushed it away. He would do Dumbledore proud.

Pop! An uncomfortable squeeze and he was in front of Madam Puddifoot’s. Pop! Another squeeze and he was back in front of the professor.

“Well done!” cried Professor Tofty. “Pass!”

In the end, only four of Harry’s classmates failed their tests (Ernie Macmillan, Padma Patil, Crabbe, and Goyle). The whole group stopped in at the Three Broomsticks for a drink – Harry took the opportunity to have a chat with the D.A. members.

Dean Thomas was still angry with Harry for the previous year’s events and unwilling to talk to him. Seamus, on the other hand, was enthusiastic, as was Neville. All three were eager to return to school in September.

Parvati and Padma Patil were both cautious about the idea. Parvati, in particular, seemed repressed; Harry eventually got her to admit that Lavender Brown, her best friend, would not be returning to school. Ron was unable to repress a look of relief when he heard that news.

When they approached Susan Bones, who was in the middle of a fervent conversation about Terry Boot (unsure about continuing) she was enthusiastic. She also informed them that Hannah Abbott, who had left school the year before, was seriously considering coming back.

Feeling good about the responses he had received, Harry returned to school in time for he end of a very uneventful Order meeting. After dinner, the twins bullied him and Ron in to a game of Exploding Snap. Hermione returned to the library.

As the days went on, Harry was more and more anxious to hear from Remus Lupin, but he did not seem to be available. Professor McGonagall had told him that Lupin was undercover, watching magical creatures (although his cover with the werewolves was blown) and not always available he turned up when he could.

More than two weeks passed after Harry’s birthday before Lupin appeared at an Order meeting. Afterwards, he took Harry out onto the grounds and handed him a slip of paper.

“I found this at Peter’s house after he vanished,” he told Harry. Harry looked down at the paper. It read:

The Potters can be found at

#7 Godric’s Way, Godric’s Hollow

“The charm is still in place,” Lupin told him. “You, of course are still under that charm – you will be able to find it. But Ron and Hermione will need to read that if they’re coming along – which I assume they are?”

“If I’m still under the charm,” asked Harry, “how is it that anyone can see me?”

“The charm is only effective in the city of Godric’s Hollow,” Lupin told him, “The spell was set up so everyone in town could see your family, but not talk about you.”

“How?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert on these things, Harry. It’s very complex. Magic exists to do almost everything – It’s almost always somewhere in the wording. As Professor Flitwick says, ‘never forget Wizard Barruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.’”





The house was a wreck.

A huge field of charred wood was really about all that remained of what had been Harry’s first home. Walking through, it was obvious in some places that this might have been a dining room or that might have been a kitchen, but anything that was worth anything had rotted away long ago.

“The nursery was upstairs,” Lupin told them, “about here. They found your father here,” he pointed to a spot near what had once been the front door, “and your mother in the nursery – of course, you knew that. When Voldemort was defeated, somehow, the house must have been destroyed.”

“How could Harry have even survived the explosion?” Hermione asked.

Lupin frowned. “The wall fell over his cot intact. He wasn’t hit by any debris.”

Looking around, Harry had to agree. He had been very lucky.





The Cemetery wasn’t much better.

A light rain was now falling, and the wind was cold. Harry, Ron, and Hermione pulled their cloaks tighter around themselves. They walked up the hill toward the highest part of the cemetery. At the top of the hill, under the shade of a tree, was a large gravestone, bearing the words:

James and Lily

POTTER

1969 - October 31, 1981

“The More Difficult the Task,

the Sweeter the Victory.”

Harry hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this.

Deep down, he knew, he had hoped that by coming here he would be able to unlock the answers to questions he hadn’t even thought to ask yet. He wanted to solve all the mysteries of the universe, or at least have his parents solve them all for him.

But instead all there was was a big rock with some words carved on it. It was almost funny.

Once again, instead of finding solace, he found nothing. It was really quite depressing.

“We’ll give you some time,” said Remus. Harry could hear the others walk away. Not even Ron protested.

Harry sat down in front of the grave. Just then, he noticed, for the first time, what was carved at the top of the massive headstone: a pair of antlers cradling a lily.





When he walked back down the hill, Harry felt better. “Thanks for coming with me,” he told his friends. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” Together they turned in place and Apparated away.


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Seventh Year by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
School begins, but who will return. I apologize for the long hiatus - I had login problems. The story is complete, so I'll have it up as soon as humanly possible.

If a fan writes fanfic in the middle of the forest that doesn't belong to her, and she never tries to claim it is, does anyone care?



Hermione woke them up the morning of September the First by running into the room and jumping onto the foot of Ron’s bed. Harry was gratified to see this: it meant that Hermione was in a better mood than was normal for her lately, even if it was odd for her to be this chipper. Ron merely groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

“I just got the list of confirmed students returning!” she told them excitedly. “Well, it’s a little smaller than we thought, but we can start planning better for the next term – especially the D.A. And the subject’s we’re going to study. You can take Arithmancy now!”

Harry couldn’t get himself too excited about this. “Who’s coming back?” he asked.

“Dean, Neville, and Seamus,” replied Hermione, “along with Parvati and Padma Patil; Pansy Parkinson, the cow; Crabbe; Goyle; Terry Boot; Susan Bones; Hannah Abbot; Ernie Macmillan; and Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

“Just the seventh years are coming back?”

“No, there’s a few more. Ginny. Colin and Dennis Creevey. That Derrick kid from Hufflepuff, the fifth year. Oh, and Luna, of course. But there aren’t any more Slytherins.

“Wow,” Ron said, emerging from under the covers, “McGonagall’s right. It’s barely worth keeping the school open.”

“Well, it’s a good thing they are,” said Hermione, “or we’d be sunk, Ronald, don’t forget. You’re the one who wanted to run off and leave school, remember?” She stomped out.

“Wow,” said Ron. “Bit touchy, isn’t she?”





Hermione’s mood, thankfully, seemed to have reversed itself by the time she got back to the common room after breakfast. Neither chipper nor angry, she seemed about normal. Harry had to repress a nasty surge of guilt – he was sure her odd moods were a result of the stress he had her under.

The students were due to arrive around dinnertime as usual, which gave them plenty of time to prepare for school to start the next day. Since there were only going to be enough students there for one tiny class, the teachers had decided to use an independent study approach. Harry was given a personal timetable, showing weekly appointments with professors McGonagall, Slughorn, Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra, as well as scheduling time to have D.A. meetings.

Ron had been the one to propose having the D.A. meet in two groups – one of the students they thought would make good Order members (This was the group they called Dumbledore’s Army) and one of the students they just wanted to train in Defense (This was the Defense Association). They had decided to have both groups meet together as well on Fridays, when everyone had free time.

It came as a bit of a shock to Harry when he was offered a choice of classrooms to hold practices in, but there was really only one room he needed – the Room of Requirement. Of course, after a while, he realized he didn’t want to automatically tell everyone in the castle the Room existed – just on the off chance someone didn’t know about it by now – so he decided to hold the Defense Association meetings in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.





The students arrived around seven o’clock and filed into the Great Hall. All eighteen of them. For a school that was usually home to as many as eight hundred students, eighteen was a sobering thought.

After everyone sat down, Professor McGonagall stood up. “If everyone will please come to attention! I have a few announcements. First, all Hogsmeade visits are cancelled whilst He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is still out there. Second, all students will note that Defense Against the Dark Arts has been cancelled. In its place will be a student-run club known as the Defense Association.” There as a slight murmur among the students at these words. “Third, due to a lack of students, there will be no inter-house Quidditch cup. And, finally, as we have no first years, there will be no Sorting this year. Thank you.” She started to sit down, then changed her mind and spoke again. “I am sure that if Professor Dumbledore were here, he would have something inspirational to say right now. I wish he were here, because, honestly, I wish I could hear it too. All I can say is that we can get through this, so long as we stand together. I am counting on each of you to do your best. And now, let the feast begin!”

The food appeared on the table and, predictably, Ron dug in right away. Hermione, after a short interval, began piling food on her plate as well. Harry just sat for a minute before he joined them, enjoying the last Hogwarts Welcoming Feast he would ever participate in.

That evening, Ginny joined him in the Common Room. “Any luck yet?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he told her, “but we’ll get there. Just a matter of time.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m going to bed – long day. I’m glad you’re here. See you in the morning?”

As he headed up the stairs, he heard her mutter, “Wimp.”





School was almost unrecognizable. There were almost no essays to be written, just a lot of practical work and discussing theory with teachers – at least for Harry and Ron. Hermione, who had a long history of learning spells just by reading about them, was still writing essays and spending her time behind tottering piles of books, but even she spent much more time doing the spells than she had before. One thing was clear: the teachers wanted them ready to do magic at any time, not just be able to look up the spell in a book.

Silent spellwork, Harry’s nemesis, was proving as difficult this year as last year. But as time wore on, Harry was able to do better – in large part, he thought, due to Occlumency and Legilimency training. He wasn’t sure if it was because Snape wasn’t the teacher this time or maybe if it was because he was trying harder, but lessons with Professor Sinistra were rapidly improving his ability to both block and receive the thoughts of those around him. He could almost always tell when Ron was lying to Hermione about his homework now, and he was beginning to truly appreciate just how devious Ginny could be. Hermione, however, remained a closed book.

September passed into October, and things remained the same. Harry was beginning to seethe with impatience. His D.A. students were progressing well, Ron and Hermione were helping him research artifacts left by Ravenclaw (there weren’t many) and life was so passive that Harry felt he was going mad.



A/N: I stole the part about McGonagall wanting to hear what inspirational thing Dumbledore would say from a line written for William Riker in an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Everything else came out of my own imagination.


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All Hallows Eve by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Hallowe'en is always busy when you're Harry Potter, and this one is no different. A rude awakening, the capture of Severus Snape, and a clue to the next Horcrux await.

Can't I just pretend to own it for a minute or so?



On Halloween, however, Harry wished he could just go back to the way things had been. His day began earlier than he would have liked when Ron had an idea.


“Harry, I've just had the best idea ever! We can keep the Quidditch teams going after all, if we just form two teams out of who we have here instead of the four we're used to!”


“Fine,” said Harry, “but can I sleep now?”


He was tired. He'd been up reading half the night. Ron, however, ignored this. “We'll need members. Can I count on you?”


“Sure.” Shielding techniques. It had been shielding techniques. Boring enough to put anyone's brain in a permanent shutdown. And Harry had no desire to get up after only the four hours of sleep he had gotten.


“Hey, Harry,” said Ron, “can you help me get some new members? We can't have the same team as last year, of course, but...”


Harry got up and headed down the stairs to the Common Room, where he had the displeasure of running into Dean Thomas. Dean had hardly spoken to Harry since their return, and Harry was glad – less fighting had to be a good thing. Before Dean could do more than glare, Harry ducked through the portrait hole.


He climbed stairs at random, thinking he might go up to the Room of Requirement and try to sleep longer when he passed Professor McGonagall hurrying down a corridor.


“Oh, Mr. Potter!” she cried, “I was hoping to find you. Come with me.”


Clad in only his pajamas, Harry followed.


“The guard has spotted what they think might be Severus Snape entering his home,” McGonagall told him as they turned a corner.


“What?” asked Harry, flabergasted. Snape. This was a good day.


“We know he hasn't returned to Voldemort since...since he left the castle,” McGonagall told Harry. “Just a few minutes ago, a cloaked figure was seen entering his home by one of the spies we placed there. The Order is going to have a look, and that includes you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger.”


Harry nodded. “I'll run upstairs and change, Professor. Give me five minutes?” She nodded, and Harry ran.


~~~~


When he reached the dormitory, Ron was drafting copies of a notice for Quidditch Club tryouts. “Ron!” yelled Harry, “Snape's been spotted! Get Hermione and let's go!” Ron abandoned his posters and ran out of the room. Harry dressed quickly and followed him. They met Hermione in the Common Room and together they raced to the Entrance Hall.


When they arrived, they found most of the Order waiting for them.


“Very well,” Professor McGonagall said when they arrived, “Now that you're all here, this is how we are going to do this. We're going to reduct our way into the house, wearing anti-charm clothing” – she gestured to the rack of Shield Hats and Cloaks in the corner - “and we are going to stun anything that moves. We'll make sure to sort it all out later.”


Harry nodded along with everyone else. Professor McGonagall produced an old teapot from her robes, and everyone touched a finger to it. A yank behind the navel carried them away.


~~~~


They landed on a street. It was still dark, and a cold wind was blowing. McGonagall indicated a dark, dreary-looking old house on a nearby corner and said, “Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus, and Tonks back there please. I'll send up green sparks – blast in and stun anything that moves.”


They nodded to show their understanding, then sneaked around to the back of the house, keeping clear of the windows. They stood by the door, waiting, until the green sparks appeared and then -


“REDUCTO!!!!!”


All four shouted it – the door blasted away and they entered the house.


All was dark and dank. Harry could see only faintly, but didn't want to give away his location by lighting his wand. He crouched in the entryway to the next room, looking for a sign of movement, trying to open his mind as he had been practicing..


Stupefy! He heard in his mind and he ducked an instant before the jet of red light would have hit him. All the practical study hadn't hurt him at all – he instinctively and silently cast a shield, then a disarming spell, and then whispered “Stupefy!” - he couldn't quite do the Stunning Spell silently yet.


The first spell missed, but the second one hit it's target, and a second later he heard a thud from someone collapsing to the floor.


In a nearby room, he heard the voice of McGonagall yelling, “That's it!” and then Remus Lupin lighted his wand.


The figure on the floor came into view. He was a tall man, with greasy hair and a hooked nose – Severus Snape.


~~~~


As if the capture of Snape wasn't enough, upon their return to Hogwarts he was met by Susan Bones.


“Harry,” she said without preamble, “you know how you're always telling us in the DA to tell you if we ever think we see something in Voldemort's plans? Well, I think I've noticed something.”


Harry, had, indeed, been telling the DA to do exactly that. However, right then what he really wanted was some breakfast. “What's up?” he asked her.


“I have sort of an inkling what he's doing,” said Susan, “but I couldn't tell you why.”


“What is it?” Harry asked, pulling her into the empty Great Hall and sitting down.


“Well,” said Susan, “You know my family stretches back to Helga Hufflepuff? It's always been kind of fascinating to me, and, genealogy is kind of my hobby. Anyway, I was reading through an old book about the legacies of the founders of Hogwarts, and it mentioned a cup passed down Helga Hufflepuff's family line. I guess the closest family member to Helga gets the cup – not that anyone's that close any more, but still – and they can activate a spell to obtain the cup for themselves at any time.”


Harry immediately knew that this was the right track.


“That's not even the weird part,” continued Susan. “Most old families have herilooms with something like that attached to them – it was kind of a fad for a while. The weird part is that lately, the members of my family who have access to the spell always seem to get killed.”


“Killed?”


“Yes. My parents are next, and then me.”


“Madam Bones...she was your aunt, right?”


“And there was an older brother who was killed with his whole family during the first war. And Dad always said he was nutty for old spells – he worked for Gringotts as a treasure hunter.”


Harry thought very rapidly. “Come with me. Now.” He ran upstairs to McGonagall's office. She was just outside.


“Professor! You have to get Susan's parents here, now. They are in danger.” When McGonagall hesitated, Harry looked right into her eyes. “Do it! I can explain, but not until it's done.”


“Return to your dormitories,” McGonagall said. For a moment, Harry panicked, and then she continued, “I will come for you when I'm done.” She swept off toward the stairs.


“Thank you,” said Susan.


“No problem. When you can, will you ask if your dad will meet with me?”


“Of course. I'd better go – she wont' be able to find me if I'm not in my common room.” Susan ran off.


Harry decided to skip breakfast and head back to bed.


~~~~


The feast was a typical gathering for Hogwarts, if somewhat smaller than normal. And the addition of Mr. And Mrs. Bones – who, it was announced, would be staying at the castle indefinitely, was the main subject of gossip.


Although the food was excellent, Harry's mind kept wandering to that afternoon.


He and Ginny had been playing chess when McGonagall arrived in the Common Room. She pulled Harry aside.


“Mr. and Mrs. Bones are here. Why?”


“They can get the cup I've been looking for,” Harry told her. “Voldemort's killed everyone who can get it eventually – probably because they kept getting it from him, so he killed them to take it back. They're next in line.”


“Will you tell me why you need it?”


“Just that Voldemort has a – a weakness to it.”


“That will do for now. Now, about Snape -”


“What now?”


“He has been awakened, and given Veritaserum. However, when we tried to question him, it was obvious that he has created and taken an antidote. Professor Sinistra has declined to examine him with Legilimency, but I was wondering if you felt comfortable.”


“Not yet.” Harry wasn't sure he could ever do that with Snape.


“Very well, we will hold him for now. I shall see you tonight, Mr. Potter.” She nodded to Harry and Ginny, then left.


~~~~


At the feast, Harry was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Bones. Mr. Bones told Harry he was unaware of anything to do with the cup, but he promised to look into it.


That night, Harry lay in bed, finally able to sleep without worrying he was getting nothing done. It was nice to be able to rest.

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The Wait by DrTaylor
Author's Notes:
Sorry for the long delay. Two reformats and a huge login problem later, the story has been finished for ages. Anyway, review review review, and I'll update regularly.

While we're waiting, I'm gonna play.


It's just play, not high-tech robbery.


A/N: In Harry Potter circles, this is known to some as Whodunit Thirteen. I have, in trying to keep with JKR's tradition, made the main mystery make an appearance here. Also in keeping with JKR's tradition, I doubt anyone who spots it for what it is will see it. If you think you do, please let me know so I can make it harder.


Things didn't proceed in quite so orderly a manner after that.


While it was true that Mr. Bones could obtain the cup whenever he wanted, he had no idea how to do it, and Harry's own research wasn't leading to any clues, either.


To make matters worse, his work was beginning to drive him mad. Hours spent in the library reading auction inventories and “tell all” books about the Founders written by grandsons of cousins of their children that held only vague hints about Gryffindor's possessions all being destroyed – except his sword, thought Harry – but him leaving behind “a possession more precious than any mere thing.


This statement was more confusing every time he read it.


The most frightening thing about the confusion was how pervasive it was. It seeped into everything he did. When he studied, it distracted him. He dreamed of the fates of ancient artifacts and of destroyed Horcruxes coming back to haunt him. Once he dreamed of drowning Snape in his cauldron.


Only two things kept him going – Ron's Quidditch club, and the D.A.


Ron had ended up organizing two teams out of the eighteen students, with himself captaining one and Luna, of all people, captaining the other (She had told them, quite seriously, that playing Quidditch was an excellent way to avoid being accosted by eblefrigles. Although no one knew what an eblefrigle was, no one questioned this statement either.) Ron's team held practices twice a week, and they played twice a month. It wasn't the same as it had been, but it was a good distraction.


The D.A. Was also busy. The students were all learning defensive magic, and his select group (Neville, Luna, Ernie, Susan, Ginny, Colin, and Dennis) were working on offensive spells as well. Most of Harry's “free” time was spent plannign their lessons, but he didn't mind – it was the one place he felt hew as truly making a difference.


It was mid-November when Neville heard Harry and Hermione arguing about their next step.


“Harry, you know what it means!” Hermione was saying, pointing to a large book. “It means the Lestranges had...” she trailed off when she saw Neville. “Er...hello, Neville.”


Harry braced himself for what he knew would happen next. He wasn't disappointed. “Neville...” he trailed off, unsure if he should proceed.


“What about the Lestranges?” Neville asked.


“They have some information we need, that's all,” replied Hermione.


“Oh,” said Neville, “Glad to know I'm not out of the loop.”


“Listen, Neville,” said Harry, “you can't help us with this. Best to just let it be -”


But Neville was having none of it. “They ruined my family!” he yelled.


Harry and Hermione couldn't think of anything to say to that. Finally, Harry did the only thing he could – he told the truth.


Partly.


“Voldemort wanted to collect a trophy from each Hogwarts founder,” he told Neville. “The Lestranges had one since...well, it was an heirloom that had once belonged to Ravenclaw. Anyway, we want the book, just because...we do.”


He knew Neville could be trusted, but it still seemed like the wrong time to tell him what was going on, and Harry had learned to trust those instincts.


Neville glared at Harry. “Glad to know you're not hiding anything. Now that I know the whole story, I don't feel like such an idiot,” he said.


Harry didn't know what to say – not that it really would have mattered. Neville was irate.


“I trust you, Harry,” he said, “but I have the right to know.”


“I know you do,” said Harry, “but it's awfully damn convenient. I don't know anything.” Hermione tried to interrupt at this point, but he silenced her with a look. “I'll tell you when I know something we can actually use,” Harry promised.


Neville still didn't look happy, but... “Okay.”



November turned into December and nothing new was found. Voldemort and his followers attacked fifteen more times, at least twice a week. Stories circulated that raids were being conducted on the homes of Ministry workers, and the Weasleys were forced to move into Hogwarts for their own protection. Bill and Fleur were at the school most of the time, too.


One day, about a week before Christmas, Harry showed up at an Order meeting with Ron and Hermione only to find that they were the only ones there. Just when they were beginning to worry, Arthur Weasley Flooed into the room.


“Hi, kids!” he said cheerfully. “I just came to let you know there was another attack today.”


Harry couldn't see what he had to be so cheerful about.


“No one on our side was hurt,” continued Arthur, which explained the cheerfulness. “Just a few destroyed porking meters. And no Muggle wittnesses. We repaired the porking meters already and now we're just imprisoning the Death Eaters that were captured. I asked the Order to come help, but Molly wouldn't hear of you three being involved. I just came back to tell you that Amycus and Alecto Meers are dead, and so is Garfield Goyle. Oh, and that snake of Voldemort's.”


“Nagini?” asked Harry.


“Exactly,” replied Mr. Weasley.


Ron broke into a grin.


“Well, said Mr. Weasley, “I need to get back. We'll have the meeting tomorrow.” He flooed away.


“Excellent!” cried Ron, “That's easy – goodbye to Horcrux Number Two!”


“But why was the snake even there?” asked Hermione.


“Doesn't matter,” said Ron, “it's dead. We should celebrate. Quidditch, anyone?”


Neither of them noticed Harry's momentary frown.

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